Koko had frozen halfway through putting his costume on. He was staring off in a particular direction with a lovelorn expression on his face.

“Focus, dear,” said Lulu, yanking the leotard all the way up to his shoulders. “We’re on in five.”

“I can’t help it, he’s gorgeous,” Koko sighed.

Lulu tweaked the piece of tarpaulin so that it blocked his view of this particular circus’ knife thrower, Kustaad the Magnificent. “He’s straight as an arrow and knows you’re underage, Koko. Give up.”

“But he’s gorgeous…”

“Everybody knows, Koko. Including his wife.” She made faces at him so she could fix his makeup. “You might have a chance with his son…”

Koko murmured uncertainly. “I know they’re unhappy, I heard them fighting…”

“That wasn’t fighting, bro-bro.”

“Three minutes, wonder twins! Goggles on or Harkin’s gonna scrag you!”

Because Harkin believed in Witch Eyes and so did a large portion of the audience. Lulu put his on because Koko wasn’t focussing on any damn thing but the wants of his own groin.

Lulu grabbed his face. “We are going to be jumping around at each other thirty feet off the ground, brother-dear. I need you to focus on the most important people - us.”

He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers. “I know. I know. Mind on the job.”

“Good,” she breathed easier. Just in time for them to wow the audience with glitter and dazzle.

*

There he was! The most beautiful man Koko had ever met. He was sweaty and out of breath from his part of the show and Kustaad just stole what little breath he had left. He still had a smile for the man. “Did you see?” he panted. “Amazing, right?”

Kustaad said what he always said, since he was literally old enough to be Koko’s father. “You did good, kid. If I was your dad, I’d be proud of you.” And he petted Koko’s head like a loving parent might.

Of course he did. He had a kid Koko’s age. That hurt.

At least Koko had the sense not to share the acres of bad poetry he’d written about being painfully in love with an older man who wasn’t even aware that gay people existed.

Meanwhile, there was Kri. Kustaad’s son who was a mere handful of years Koko’s junior. Sure, Kri could mature to be just like his father, but he was a weedy Elven junior of about Seventy.

Who was definitely in adoration of Koko, and might have a baby crush. “I saw you,” said Kri. “You were amazing! You’re always amazing. When you did that flip and swapped around to leap backwards? I swear my heart stopped.”

It wouldn’t be fair to lead Kri along when he was so badly in love with Kustaad. And it wasn’t fair to Kri to not at least be friendly. “We got us a situation, huh?” he said.

“Huh?” echoed Kri.

“You got a thing for me. I got a thing for… someone else. It kind’a hurts, right?”

Kri sighed, pain in his eyes. “Yeah. It does.”

Taako took a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know exactly how much this hurts.”

“Wish it didn’t,” said Kri.

“Your mouth to the gods’ ears,” said Koko.

That night, he would spend three hours waxing lyrical to Lulu about the great sacrifices he had made in the name of love. Making friends with a younger kid and bonding over how painful love can be when it wasn’t returned.

All so Kustaad could be happy that his son Kri had a reason to be happy.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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The flat was dark when he returned. This was nothing new. What with the frenetic activities of two super-genius nosy busibodies, there were many times that their flat was dark and empty when one of them returned to it.

Nothing new on the noticeboard, their chief way of non-facetime communication. Not even an encoded dirty limerick. There were only shelf-stable ingredients in the pantry, of course. They weren’t in long enough or often enough to trust things like eggs and milk to last long enough between uses. Taako would flip at the dehydrated eggs and the long-life milk cartons, but… he never had to know about this flat and he liked it that way.

What gave Angus pause was the bag on the hatrack.

Agatha’s bag, and her bandolier of useful things. Hung on the hook like they always were when she was in.

He followed her usual path from hatrack to bedroom, finding her shoes kicked off and laying where they’d fallen. She must have had a long and tiring day, then collapsed into bed for a short nap.

She was curled in a ball on top of their bed. Clothing tossed off in brief fits of uncomfortable consciousness. In the grey light of darkvision, Angus could see a sheen of perspiration on her beautiful skin.

And hear…

thrrtt… thrrtt… thrrtt…

The soft, barely audible, broken purr of clear distress. He didn’t need to touch her to know she was sick, but when he did, she was burning hot. Her feet were ice cold and her brow was hot enough to cook soup on. When he added a gentle, questing hand to her belly, she moaned in protest, but didn’t wake.

Right. This was bad, bad beans.

He left a note for her on the board, just, Gone out for supplies - G. and hurried to where he could get some fresh stuff at this hour. Taako always insisted that fresh and as natural as possible was always the best. Ginger. Garlic. Chicken stock. Chicken. Vegetables. Cinnamon. Honey. Lemon. Socks of Comfort. Compress of Cooling. Seven different things that promised to soothe an upset stomach and enough painkillers to cause concern in the clerk.

“Sick wife,” said Angus. “We’ve only been married a couple of months.”

“What’s she got?”

Angus listed off the known symptoms and asked if there was anything else that could help her out. Unfortunately, the answer was negative.

He rushed back and got the tea started and carefully wriggled the socks onto her cold feet. Then equally as carefully eased the compress onto her fevered brow. Next - soup.

Taako had indeed taught him everything he knew about cooking, including the bare basics and variations of his nigh-famous ginger garlic chicken soup. Good for anything that ailed a body except maybe death. Even then, it had been known to warm literally the coldest heart.

Tea ready, Angus got together some painkillers - ones also good for easing a fever - and a few stomach remedies and brought them to Agatha.

She was resting a little easier, which made it horrible to wake her up. She complained with an inchoate groan.

“I know, love,” he cooed. “Got some stuff to help you feel better, babe.”

“Thanks babe,” she croaked, fighting to attain an upright position. Painkillers and stomach meds, then slow sips of tea. “…dunno what this is, but it hit me like an ogre.”

“Clerk said it’s going around. The good news is, it goes through quick. The bad news is, it’s hell.”

“Don’t catch it?”

“Trying not to.”

He let her rest for the two hours it took for the soup to be done. Sleep was her ally in this battle. Then it was time to wake her and feed her as much as she could stomach.

Good thing half-Elves could meditate just as well as the full-blooded ones. He’d need that little trick to stay fresh whilst Agatha needed care.

It was hell. And it was over inside of four days. Agatha was left weak, wrung out, and wan, but she would get better from there. Which was just as well, because he had been incredibly worried for those four days.

The best thing in the world was being able to snuggle up next to her without a worry in his head. It was also the best sleep he’d had in a week.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

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A bunch of line-only sketches of the Starblaster Uniforms according to my headcannon over here.

Not shown on the hat sketches - where I forgot that it was PROFILE and not BACK - pig, poufy feathers at least decorating the Captain’s hat. Mostly because I chickened out.

I probably fucked up how the jacket-as-a-half-cape thing went. I don’t know from textiles and I tried my best. I could find literally zero references.

….at least I now have something so I can work on the crew pix at an undefined later date.

Tumbl Into TAZ - Chapter 82 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

Memory recovery is a tricky, tricky thing.

[AN: (Still Alive playing in the background) Taagnus isn’t my favourite but I can see how they’d be FWB during SC]

Magnus was used to being strong for Taako. That was how it worked. Then Taako was feeling weak, lonely, or emotionally tired. It happened more often when Lup died. He really had to be strong then, because Taako was most likely to go off the rails when his sister was dead.

Today, though, some random virus had managed to assault him. Something that had killed Barry and was close to killing Luce… and now had got to him despite their best efforts to prevent it.

He felt like dog shit that had been dragged backwards through a hedge and set on fire. He felt weaker than a newborn kitten and less able to focus on the world outside his bed.

Hot soup and cold water kept appearing by his bedside. Cold compresses and hot water bottles eased his discomfort. He was dimly aware that someone was sponge-bathing him.

It was a sweat-soaked and uncomfortable time, but someone was invested in his survival and, given that Merle was shitty at that sort of thing. The weight he sometimes sensed on his bed was too heavy to be Cap’n’port. He hadn’t thought anyone else was even bothered with his continued existence. He’d be back next year like nothing ever happened to him.

Why should they care?

His name was Magnus Burnsides. He was eighteen. He’d been eighteen for twenty-five years. As time slipped out of his grasp, he didn’t know whether to curse this attempted saviour or bless them. It all depended how shit he felt whenever consciousness wrestled with him and won.

Blink.

Retching into a tub. Someone’s hand was stopping him from falling out of his bunk and into his own puke. Soaked in sweat and down to his undies under a sheet that had been tossed on and off.

“Let it out,” said a voice on the edge of his awareness. “Don’t hold back i’morko.”

A glass of water. Cool and fresh. Pressed to his lips. “Rinse. Spit.”

He did that.

The form that leaned him back on the mess of pillows was a blur in the reds and golds of the mission uniform. Couldn’t be Taako. Taako always ditched the uniform at the first opportunity.

“…who?” he croaked.

“Don’t sweat it. Here.”

A concoction of milk, herbs, and honey. Comfort-warm and a blessing on his ravaged throat. The stabbing in his stomach eased.

“Just rest.”

Blink.

Shivering in the darkness. So cold. A presence leaning over him Snuggling up close. Whoever they were, they were a furnace. Someone moved around the hot water bottles. Someone brushed his face. Calloused hands.

“Sssh. Sshh-shh… Deep breaths, now. Deep breaths.”

He tried his best until he sank back down again.

Blink.

The soup had chunks in it. “You remember how to chew, right?”

He did that. The meat was spicy and soft. The liquid around it was warm and comforting. The blur in front of him was a little clearer. Darkish skin with lighter patches. Golden hair tied up in a red kerchief. He couldn’t focus on the eyes and easily tell which twin had the tonic.

“…lup?”

“Guess again, homeslice.”

Blink.

It might be daytime, but he was alone. Sprawled out on his bunk and unable to lift a finger. Running footsteps coming towards his position and he couldn’t even move his head.

The red blur was back, fiddling with his button fly and muttering under his breath. “…stoopid-ass fashion designers, those assholes never had t’ pee in a hurry in their lives…”

Magnus smiled. He knew that complaint. By heart. His voice was a rough and ghostly rasp. “…hey taako…”

Taako finished wrestling with is upper buttons. “Hey. Feeling better yet?”

“I feel like wrung-out laundry after it’s been beat on a rock.”

“Yeah, that’d about get it. Luce said that’s how she felt when she beat it. You’re on the way back up. So there’s that good news.” He made to feel Magnus’ brow.

“You wash your hands?”

Now he could focus on Taako’s mismatched glare. “No, I stuck both hands up my ass and came straight to you.” His hands were damp and smelled of the lavender soap they made on weekends. “Fever’s broken. Want help getting into the shower? ‘Cause you smell like boiled ass.”

“You’d know what boiled ass smells like,” quipped Magnus. Which was a cue to the usual joke.

“Of course I do, I boiled your ass the last time you died. Stank up the ship for two weeks.”

He laughed so hard he fell to fits to coughing.

“Easy, now. Easy. No joking for another week.”

“What? No sponge bath?”

“Naw, ya gotta try an’ walk as soon as you can. You got some atrophy going on, and -uh- don’t look.”

Given how weak he felt just sitting up, he decided not to look at how bad he’d got. The crew had taken to covering any mirror on board when disease or injury ravaged the survivor’s bodies and faces. There was already a cloth over the mirror in the bathroom.

Close to, Taako also looked like hell. There were signs of Blight up his neck and his eyes were hollow. He had a kind of boiled ass aroma to him and his hair was kind’a greasy.

“Were you looking after me the whole time?”

Taako rolled his mismatched eyes and scoffed. “No…” which was Taako-ese for ‘yes’.

Magnus didn’t argue with his horseshit. He just said, “Thanks,” and added, “Maybe you should help me stand in the shower.”

“Eh. Whatever.”

Which was Taako-ese for, “Sure, but don’t make a big deal out of that.”

They showered together with a few more hugs than necessary. Just two people surviving the disaster together. He didn’t say a word about them sharing a bed to rest. He didn’t say a word about how often Taako actually showed he cared during his recovery.

That was how they rolled. That was how it worked. For them.

[TAZ Prompts remaining: 5]

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Tumbl Into TAZ - Chapter 80 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

There’s nothing like new math to make old mathematicians angry.

This is going to take some unpacking for the initiates reading this. See, @dualityandsuch and I have been egging each other on via Discord for some time. They give me Plot Kittens, I give them Art Bunnies. And Plot Kittens.

Recently, we’ve come up with the Baby Birds AU, which includes a Modern High School variant but I’m sticking to Fantasy like a limpet.

The long and the short of it is that there is Horrible Fantasy Racism because of the Xenophobia Wars and people continuing to be dicks after it’s over. To add to this melting pot, because we both ADORE angstus, we’ve invented Fantasy PETA.

I give to you: the Vegan Organisation for Respectable Ethics.

Which is equal parts PETA, speciesist dickholery, and assorted less-than-ethical practices happening in the real world like… testing medicine on kids in foster homes and orphanages. [Disgusting News Here] Which sounds to me like EXACTLY something that PETA would do because unwanted humans are less important than bunnies or actual informed volunteers.

Needless to say, this is rapidly accelerating towards some doom point where I get another Plot Kitten to rehome into a brand new fanfic.

VORE is basically a melting pot of the following:

• Horrible things PETA has actually done
  
• Horrible things government agencies have done
• Horrible things people are STILL doing
• Horrible things racists have/are done/doing
• Horrible things anti-vaxxers say because why not

Chief amongst their crimes is testing alchemical medicines on Elves and half-Elves left in orphanages, and then covering up the horrifically bad reactions in Technicality Snow. Because angst is life.

Susan, of course, is the soccer/antivax/wine mom that everyone loves to hate, so of course she volunteers to be a tester for VORE and insists it’s good for everyone because it’s “more ethical.”

We’re still egging each other on as I write this. It’s gonna be fun when it turns into a story.

He said he’d be back soon. Ango was the most honest kid in the multiverse, and Taako hadn’t doubted him at the time. Soon, to Taako’s mind, was something within a week or two.

He was concerned by the end of week one. Outright fretting by week two. So worried that he couldn’t rest at all by week three.

“He’s still okay, right?” Taako asked Krav, Lup, or Barry whenever they came home. “He’s still alive, right?”

By halfway through week four, just ‘alive’ wasn’t enough. Taako took his best long-distance Deer, his most thorough spellcasting ingredients, and all his spell focii and gadgets, Angus’ duplicate Book of Transcription, and took off.

He had refined Locate Creature to a greater range and could narrow down a general direction if within ten miles of his targets location. He extrapolated most of a path from Angus’ book. He forgot to eat. He didn’t sleep. He was too disturbed to meditate.

Four days out from the farmhouse, Krav appeared while Taako let Dh’ondahr[1] grazed and took water. He was seriously pondering magecrafting a crystal storehouse for the beast while he used Garyl to keep moving when his husband appeared through a rift.

“He’s still alive, right?”

“Yes, Dove. He’s still alive.”

Taako could breathe. “Istus says he’s going to be okay?”

“Dove… I came because you’re not okay. When was the last time you ate?”

“I’m good. I’ve got lembas.”

“Dove…”

“I haven’t been hungry,” he said, unable to deny the love of his life. “For… four days.”

Krav took the lembas Taako had waved around and broke it along its pressed fault lines. “Eat, Dove. For me? For Ango?”

It was one of his best recipes, but it tasted like ash as he ate mechanically.

Krav brought his hurdy-gurdy out from his personal hammerspace.

“Oh fuck you,” grumbled Taako.

“You know I have to, Babe.” He sang, “Sleep, Taako, sleep, you’ve worn yourself to shreds/ Tomorrow come on back to tearing up Faerun’s green breast/ There’s no-one you can blame, just circumstances threads…” He did not cast Sleep, as Taako was naturally immune to that. He cast Calm Emotion. Which had the same net effect that Sleep would have on anyone else.

Taako was conked out before the last line.

Krav was still watching over him come the dawn. He had made coffee and a servicable breakfast on the campfire.

“I hate you,” said Taako without any conviction.

“No you don’t,” said Krav with every ounce of confidence. “You needed this. One day, you may even admit it.”

Taako mumbled, “I have to find our boy,” into his eggs as he bolted them down.

“I’ll try to stop by,” Krav soothed. “Look after yourself, okay? You can’t look after Ango if you’re falling over.”

“Sure,” said Taako, but he was already up and making ready to go. “Wish you could zero in on not-death-criminals.”

“Same, Dove. Same.”

Three days later, Taako found Angus in Ravensroost. The entire town was in the middle of reconstruction and apparently belonged to dogs. Well. Mostly dogs. All of them were happy to see him and would eventually sit when told. Magnus. loaded down with rebuilding materials, waved. “I got your kid,” he hollered.

Taako, in no mood to argue about Angus ownershio, bellowed, “WHERE’S MY BABY?”

Ango was laid up in the Ravensroost hostel with a broken leg in traction. It was telling that he somehow found an issue of Caleb Cleveland to read. Someone had given him a bowl of stew and a bell.

“Oh. Hello, sir. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Of course he knew Taako had been fretting. Signs like the Blight were hard to obscure. Plus he hadn’t applied his usual glamour since… three weeks ago.

Taako fell across him in a very out-of-character hug. “Don’t do that to me again,” he said, holding his boy close. “Don’t do that to me ever.”

He barely heard, “I won’t, sir. And next time, I’ll take along the Stone of Farspeech. So you can contact me when I’m on a case.”

He was out of it before any further explanation reached his pointed ears.

[1] A traditional Elven name for deer.

Tumbl Into TAZ - Chapter 78 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

Feeblemind spell used in this chapter. Those disturbed by this should know that I tried to remain respectful with it.

[AN: I mean… he can…]

“Sir, there’s an Orc claiming that he’s family, wanting to see your baby,” said the nurse. “If you want him escorted from the premises–”

“Neosemo?” Angus started up from his chair. “My boy is here?”

The nurse looked startled. Agatha and Agnes were sleeping, but Agatha opened one eye and mumbled, “Cool it.”

Angus gingerly toured around the bed as he murmured, “I can verify his identity if I can just see him…”

Neosemo was waiting politely near the ‘no admittance’ sign. He saw Angus through the window in the door and waved.

“There’s my boy,” cheered Angus, speeding up to greet his adopted son with a hug.

“Hey Dad,” said Neosemo. “I got here as soon as I could.” To the nurse, he said, “Can I see my baby sister now?”

Angus made much ado about insisting that all remained quiet, because newborns needed their sleep to grow. Agnes was two days old and Agatha was still recovering from getting her out into the world.

Thusly, Neosemo entered the ward on tip-toe.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, “Elf babies are fucking tiny…”

Agatha opened one eye again. “You try pushing one out, sometime.”

Neosemo gave her a tusky grin. “Yeah, okay. I won’t complain again. Can I hold her, yet?”

Agatha scooted over. “Come beside me. You know how to be gentle, right?”

“Medical degree. Yeah.”

It was still an exercise in whispered tutorials. The infant Agnes complained about the transfer, and blinked at Neosemo.

“Hi there, little one,” he cooed. “I’m your big brother.”

Agnes frowned at him, then set up a howl. Much to the amusement of all around her.

“She’ll get used to you,” promised Agatha. “That, and she might be hungry again.”

“She has a stomach the size of a walnut,” said Angus, who had been studying this sort of thing. “She can’t help it.”

Neosemo was grinning. “It’s still a story I can taunt her with for decades to come,” he chuckled. “Long after I’m a famous and well-travelled Cleric.”

Of course he would. There was no such thing as a sibling who didn’t have ammunition against their brothers and sisters.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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