[AN: Why not both?]

Time can make the world strange. Taako could have sworn that when he hugged Angus goodnight, he had been able to rest his chin on top of his curly head. This morning, With Angus limping about the kitchen, their cheeks touched when he gathered his miserable boy up in his arms.

“Should I call Merle?” he asked.

Angus made the ‘I dunno’ noise. Sitting and rubbing his legs with a grimace. “It’s just growing pains, sir. Not a lot to be done about it.”

“Y’know. Apart from stopping with all the growing,” sniped Taako. He cooked up a nutritious meal that could cure anything from a bad mood to a near death experience.

“Don’t think that’s possible, sir,” He audibly winced before snorking down his hot meal like he hadn’t eaten in three days or longer.

“Slow down before you choke, Agnes…”

“Sorry, sir. I’m kind’a hungry. Actually, I’m real hungry.”

Taako rolled his eyes. Humans and their growth spurts. He got his Stone of Farspeech out and called his sister.

“Painful embrace of death,” she answered. “How can I inflict your call?”

“Yo, sis. Got us a growing lad with longer, empty legs to fill. You up for an epic cook-off?” And then winced and pulled away as Lup shrieked down the connection.

“HELLFUCK YEAH! THIS BEATS THE FUCK OUTTA PAPERWORK BRO!” She lowered her voice. “Gimmie ten, I gotta sneak away from Bird Mom.”

“Yeah, you just fucked your stealth check, sis. I’ll give you twenty.”

And while he was waiting, he could fry up something with lots of protein and calcium. Eggs, salmon, some spinach for iron, a spare dash of cheese. Hopefully it would hold his boy over until Lup dropped by and things went really crazy.

–Some Decades Later–

The Raven Queen had hundreds of children. What she never expected was grandchildren. Or great-grandchildren. All of that came from adopting The Twins.

She had made the mistake of calling Lup daughter. Where one twin went, the other was bound to follow. She was mother to two living creatures. And when one adopted Angus McDonald, he counted as her grandson.

And now, there was another generation.

It had been the shock of her… existence… to discover that she had a great-grandchild. This was a first. But then… there were lots of firsts with the Seven Birds in the mix.

She was currently manifesting as a black-robed elderly woman. Naught but a raven tattoo on one cheek to identify her as anything other than mortal.

“Her name is Agnes,” whispered Taako, looking down at the very small human asleep in the crib. “My son named her on purpose. He’s such a little shit.”

Coming from anyone else, those words would be disparaging. Taako, on the other hand, sounded prouder than punch.

The sleeping infant flexed her tongue in her sleep, but otherwise remained unaware that Death was so close. This child was hers by laws written by the hearts of two aliens from a different realm of reality.

A welcome change from the children that ill-advised necromancers sacrificed to her. This child would have a genuine life in the Prime Material Plane. And she was one of her guardians.

“She will have a long life,” said the Raven Queen.

“Good to know,” whispered Taako. “Not gonna stop anyone checking on her while she’s this little though.”

“Of course not,” she cooed. “No decent parent would do less.” And the Goddess reached down to gently stroke Agnes’ head.

Agnes wouldn’t know it for years, but she was the first Human infant to know the touch of Death and be able to tell the tale.

Insomnia nights were hell. Taako slipped out of the dorm he shared with the meat shield, the pervert, and the drug addict to catch some fresh air out on the Bureau quad. Well. Fresher than the dorm’s air, anyway. Less filled with farts, for certain.

He’d always felt slightly more secure when he was close to nature. None of it was Elven nature, it was one hundred percent knowing that he’d got away from the people who were after his head. Or his ears. Or any other body part. Cities were food security. Forests and greenery were personal security. And the twain had not really met on a permanent basis for ninety years of his fucking trainwreck of a life.

But here? On manicured grass and near sculpted trees, Taako was wondering if he’d set off any alarms by lighting up a little dandelion. On one hand, Madame Director turned a blind eye to Pringles and his potions, and let Boyland smoke those horse-ass cigars… On the other hand, people never really smiled on an Elf high on weeds.

“Dad! Daddy! No!”

Taako slipped the tiny clay pipe back into a pocket before someone caught him and whirled to face the very young voice of a boy detective in distress.

He knew that look.

There was no time to ponder how he knew that look. He just knew it. Night terrors plus disassociation plus one stinker of a nightmare lead to running around and not seeing reality, just yet. And the kid was headed right for one of the edges of the base.

Fuck.

Taako flying-tackled him before he could run right off the gods-damn thing. Suffered elbows and knees to places he much preferred a gentle caress from a willing adult. Rolled them both a little further away from the sheer drop.

And purred. Like a parent to a fussy child.

It was all he could think of to do for the boy. And if anyone heard it who knew anything about Elves, then they’d get a message that Taako wanted nobody to know. That he, Taako -you know, from TV- felt a familial protectiveness with this tiny, fancy lad.

It was entirely the kids fault. Lying about having a family and running a con on everyone around him so that he didn’t wind up in Fantasy Child Services and horseshit foster homes until he aged out of the system and they kicked him out. It was exactly the sort of thing that Taako had done when he was a kid. Taako had him clocked in a cold second with all that, “My grandpa forgot his name,” malarky.

And not wanting to admit he was concerned at all, because that went against his brand, Taako took the brat under his wing as a student. Which gave him a perfect excuse to make sure Ango went to bed on time and got himself some decent meals and had time to just enjoy himself and all that other crap.

And that now gave him an excuse to drag him backwards out of one rip-snorter of a fucking nightmare, by the looks of things.

Ango relaxed in his arms.

“There, now, meldavó. Ssh-ssh-ssh…”

Angus stiffened. “Sir?”

If Taako was good at anything, it was the nine-hundred-yard backpedal. “You had a nightmare and nearly ran right off the fucking moon, dumbass. I can call you anything I like.”

He was still staring into his dreams. “No! Don’t burn me!”

Fuck. “Hey. Hey now. This is another lesson. Breathe deep. Tell me five things you see.”

He blinked, seemingly looking at two Taakos at once. Though that was a good thought, a definite improvement on the world, one was a nightmare and therefore intolerable.

“Come on, Agnes. Five things you can see. Names. Chop-chop.”

“Uh. Sky. Other moon. You. Grass. Oh shit, we’re so close to an edge, sir.”

“Good, good,” Taako cooed, now focussing on carrying them both away from a five billion yard drop to certain doom. “I need you to name four things you can hear, now.”

“Um. Your voice? My voice? The levitation spell keeping us up. Um. And. The night pumps, sir.”

“Very good. You’re doing great. Three things you can feel. Name ‘em. And try for sentences, this time.”

He was shaking less. Breathing easier. “I can feel… you. I can feel the cool night air. Andum… I can feel your Umbrastaff vibrating, sir. It kind’a tickles.”

Huh. He swore he left that thing in the dorm. Yet there it was, hooked on his right arm like it belonged there. And it was vibrating a little bit. “Don’cha dare set fire to anything,” he muttered at it. There was a bench. He set them both down. “You’re doing fantastic, Pumpkin. Now open up those nose nostrils and name me two things you can smell.”

Angus sniffed. “I can smell petrichor, it’s just rained. And… I can smell the cafeteria warming up for the breakfast rush.”

Taako slipped him a candy. “And finally, one thing you can taste.”

“It’th one of your potht party peppermintth, thir,” said Angus around the sweet. “The one you take when you don’ want Madam Director knowing that you’ve had a few drinkth.”

And the other reason he wouldn’t admit he loved Angus was that the kid could be a right little shit at times. It made Taako’s black and icy heart melt a little. “That’s called a grounding exercise, kiddo. Sometimes, the ole noggin can run away with ya. When things seem to unreal to be real, that’s what you do. Five senses. Five, four, three, two, one. Last one’s always taste. First one’s always sight ‘cause the eyes can lie and y’ need more proof, dig?”

“You get nightmareth too, thir?”

“Fucking howlers,” Taako said. “That exercise helps. That, and pocket pudding.” He pulled out a handful of butterscotch flavour. “Want some?”

“Euw, thir. That’th grothth.”

“More for me,” he chirped, and started licking it off his hand. “If the night terrors are a regular thing, get’cherself a sleepy sack before you fall off the base. Not that I care, but it’s bad for the brand if my first apprentice jumps off the fucking moon.”

Angus, who no doubt read him like a book, said, “I’ll get one from Fantathy Cothtco ath thoon ath poththible, thir.”

“Great.”

Angus started chewing the hard candy.

“And remember to brush your teeth. Can’t have an apprentice with cavities.”

He picked at his teeth for a bit. “I know what meldavó means, sir. And I won’t tell.”

Taako didn’t say, “You better fuckin’ not.” Just sized him up, one small-time villain to another. Little shit had himself a bunch of better chances just by being so fucking nice to everyone. He knew the kid was playing him just as much as the kid knew that Taako knew it.

“Good,” Taako said eventually. And then, “Also don’t tell Herself that I’m smoking.” And, alarms or not, he lit his pipe.

[AN: meldavó - “beloved son” thanks to https://www.elfdict.com/]

In honour of the day Griffin made us all cry…

I may have later one-shots. The day is young. But I thought I’d share a scene I wrote for a very long whump fic in which Angus is a Taagnus baby and nobody finds out until MUCH later… It’s under the cut because some of y’all might not want to read that.

[CUT HERE. Mobile users scroll to the next post if you don’t want to read this thing]

Keep reading

[AN: An Ango kidnapping would probably end the same way as Killer Instinct with a traumatised Ango being cradled by a bloodstained Taako. I’m probably torturing my beautiful magic boy in another fic enough, so…]

The redolent smell of Ginger Garlic Chicken Soup filled Casa de Taako. For all that there were medicines, potions, and Clerics to help with any given illness, Taako still insisted that his ginger garlic chicken soup was all that anyone needed to recover from any disease known to intelligent life. Doctors everywhere hated him because he was more often right than wrong.

Taako had five humanmen going down with the seasonal sniffles, so he made sure he had the big pot all but overflowing with chicken meat, ginger, garlic, and assorted vegetables, and simmering gently for anyone who wanted to drag themselves towards the soup and help themselves. And he kept three bowls at optimal temperature under Covers of Preservation for the smaller ones in his house.

Something… snapped. Like a switch being flipped inside Taako’s head. Soup was not enough to feed his babies. They needed tasty, good, good food. Almost in a dream state, Taako started baking and cooking all the best tempting foods in handful-size servings.

One of the babies had found his leg. Poor baby. Poor baby needed comfort. Taako scooped them up and, using Mage Hand to keep the food going, cuddled the small humanman and purred for him.

Amber was more likely to come and seek help. Aloe was more likely to hide and cry. Taako got them both into the cuddle cote before he finished up the treats for the babies.

His Baby still needed his sleep. Safe with mate. Taako left supplies on a handy table and under a magic cover and went back to the babies. They were warm and miserable and needing.

They needed cool. They needed clean. They needed good, good food and all the comfort Taako could provide.

Even in the throes of Luume, Taako wasn’t a barbarian. He did not lick these babies clean. What he did have was an abundant supply of cool, clean water and plenty of towelling.

Keep babies comfortable. Keep babies safe. Keep babies fed.

Check on his baby too. Sleeping. Cuddle baby’s babies. Purr. Comfort. Coo.

*

Angus felt like shit as he dragged himself out of the guest bedroom. Taako’s soup and tasty treats had helped rally his resources, but now he wanted a large beverage and he really needed to pee.

The house was dark.

Ominously quiet.

And a lot more food than normal waiting under assorted covers.

Uh oh… Knowing Taako as he did, Angus checked the Cuddle Cote.

The fairy lights were on. And inside were Agnes, Aloicious, and Ambrose. Or, as Taako referred to them, Aglet, Aloe, and Amber.

All of them tangled up in each other and all stripped down to their underthings. There were still moist towelling washers scattered around them all. Agnes had intricate braids in her hair. Aloicious and Ambrose were spread across their ‘grandfather’.

Taako was distress-purring in his sleep.

Angus crawled up to him and felt his brow. Feverish, and not just the feverish effects of Luume. But the feverish effects of the latest winter flu.

“Hachi machi, you’re going to be feeling this one,” he whispered.

Luume knocked Taako sideways at the best of times. The flu was going to knock any remaining piss out of him.

Angus arranged his kids into a cuddle pile and ferried some of Taako’s panacea soup into the cote. Best not to move him. He might get snarly. The most he did was arrange Taako so that he could eat and drink without moving very much at all.

And then it was just a matter of waking Taako up every half hour and feeding him as much soup as he could take.

*

“Is grampa better yet?”

“C’n I tickle him?

“Let grampa sleep,” said Agnes. “He’s had a rough time.”

“Did he have a silly again? He had a silly when we were born.”

Taako, feeling like he’d been dragged backwards through a hedge that was somehow simultaneously on fire and frozen solid. His head hurt. His joints hurt. His fucking hair hurt. “Much though I love you all,” he croaked, “either shut up or fuck off. Pick one.”

“Grampa’s sick…” said Aloe.

Someone wiped him down with a damp piece of terrytowelling.

“I have some of your soup, sir,” said Agnes. “If you want, I can feed it to you.”

Taako cracked open an eye. Light hurt. Even the dim fairy lights of the Cuddle Cote. “Good baby,” he sighed.

smithersmitherson:

@cancerously commissioned the sweetest, stupidest thing I ever drew in my entire life and that is Taako and Lup as tiny elf larvae, just being terrible. Enjoy this gift.

This drained my Will Save to Resist Writing Another Kiddie Twins fic.

Thanks a fuckbunch.

Third one from the top is like, “Koko! Get outta that soup! Lulu! Don’t eat that soup!” #SteamPoweredGiraffeReference :D

Reblog if y’all need yet another Tiny Terrible Elf Larvae fic.

(Source: r00ib0s)

Free Scene for TAZ Ficcers

[BC I don’t have a whole story to go with this]

He saw his sister carrying a bunch of empty platters on his way to the Multiversal Ship Designing Think Tank.

“How’d it go?” he asked, knowing full well that he was using Bigby’s Hand to hold seven baskets full of assorted treats.

“They thanked me very much and told me to screw off in the nicest possible way. They even shaved a few inches off the bathroom, but it won’t do any good. I even told them I would sleep on a box on the floor if it would get us a bigger kitchen, babe. No soup.”

Anyone else would have said ‘no soap’, but this was a family quirk born out of going without and running for their lives for so very, very long.

“We’ll see where the ol’ Taako charm gets us, sis,” Taako breezed. “It’ll finally be proof that my cooking is, of course–”

“Horseshit?” suggested Lup.

Taako snapped his fingers. “Of course. I forgot to add the horseshit.” He laughed. “Gotta try it, right?”

“I’m seducing the captain, next,” said Lup.

“Don’t squash him,” cheered Taako. And sauntered onwards to the Think Tank suites. Where he found someone already willing to whine about his offerings before he got the chance.

“Oh gods, did the two of you have to try the same tactic on the same day?” whined the administrator. “And oh gods, you made pastries…” She slurped back drool. “My diet is shot to hell.”

“Chill, you can have these whenever. See, I’ve wrapped them all in a little invention of mine. Taaako’s Utilitarian Preservation and Protection Envelopes. Everything in them stays as fresh and warm as the moment they went in. How’s TUPPEware suit you as a marketable thing? Copyright Taako.”

“It still won’t do you any good. We have to design a humane interior for seven people and weight is an issue. The bond engine…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard the lecture from Doctor Whatsisface. Always wears blue jeans. Looks like Tom Arnold. You know the dude.”

“Yeah, we know him. He’s in here every other day telling us not to listen to people like you.”

Taako thought hard about blowing up her ass. Nope. Diplomacy. “Just for that little dig, I won’t tell you where I hid the cheesecake.”

“Caramel?”

“Saltwater taffy.”

“I’mverysorry, youcangorightinandnegotiatewitheveryoneontheteam.”

Taako handed her a large TUPPEware box on his way through.

“I love you forever, but my dietician hates your ass.”

“I get that a lot,” he chirped.

Inside the labyrinth of desks and drawing boards was less successful than Lup’s. Not even trying to sell them on TUPPEware was worth anything.

He propped up a support column and watched someone carefully inking the profile of the future multidimensional ship with care whilst he munched on some “I failed, oh well” cheer-himself-up cookie dough balls.

And he came up with an innocent question. “Hey, real quick, I gotta know. What are the masts for?”

“Huh?” said the inker.

“What are the masts for? Everything that moves the ship goes through the bond engine, right? All the helm shit goes to the ring in the rear. So… what are the masts for?”

The person doing the inking stared at their work in horror. Then slapped their tools down with an aggressive slap.

“I am going to need,” he said, “The biggest, richest, gooiest, most luxurious piece cake you have with all the fucking cream, because…” he gestured at the work in progress. “DAMNIT!”

The entire office flinched.

“WE DON’T NEED FUCKING MASTS, GUYS! START GODSDAMN OVER. AND GIVE THESE MOTHERFUCKING ELVES THEIR FUCKING KITCHEN.”

Taako gave him his best fucking cake and an entire box of his deluxe coffee fudge. Poor fellow needed it.

Random TAZ thought

Susan is actually Susan Sto-Helit. Aka Susan Death from Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld.

Of course they don’t get along.

YAAAASSSS…

I pre-ordered before I found out about all of Amazon’s bullshit. Please don’t hate me. OTOH I am so glad my copy is on its way. I get it in early August if I’m lucky.

And I can watch it crawl all the way from the US to Queensland, Australia over the following firkin WEEKS it takes to do so.

Ah, postal systems. Run by tortoises. All of them.

If y’all haven’t seen this yet you should.

So I was researching medaeval kids’ clothes because reasons…

And alongside this:

I found this:

So Angus’ fancy lad gear could have just as easily been a silk or velvet dress, braies [imagine that knickerbockers and pantaloons had a baby] and vividly dyed hose. [source] With lace, because lace was conspicuous consumption.

If you headcannon that Ango is Jewish, then he would be in dresses until his Bar Mitvah, when he officially becomes a man.

…so kindly stop drawing Ango in Victorian-era lad gear.