(This minific would chronologically fit right at the beginning of TAZ:B episode 3.)
Riding back to Phandalin with Taako, Magnus, and Merle, Barry is struck again with increasingly contradictory feelings. He’s felt this before, of course. Sometimes statements come out of his mouth and he’s completely taken aback as if someone else has taken charge of his words. Like the way he knows nothing feels better on a hot day than a swim in a cold lake even though he’s spent his life avoiding the water and unable to swim. Or like earlier, his statement to Magnus about his work as a bodyguard. It felt true but his experiences just didn’t back it up.
He considers it carefully, trying to break the situation into pieces he can study objectively. This job with with the Rockseekers, for example. He’d bluffed his way into it for reasons he didn’t understand. But despite his scientific training it just kept coming back to the fact that he trusted his gut that it was the right move.
Even now – with a collection of broken ribs screaming at him with each bump and jostle of the wagon – he still believes it had been the right choice. When the gerblins had overwhelmed them the thing that felt most wrong wasn’t the combat but that he’d felt strangely unarmed despite the heavy mace he’d held. And aside from those imprecise data points of feelings and instinct, his body had reacted like one experienced in combat. His muscles had instinctively dropped into a fighting stance and he believed his heart rate hadn’t spiked the way you’d expect for someone with his bookish background. Every physical reaction he could think of backed up the belief that he had somehow survived many, many battles.
The wagon hits another pothole and Barry clutches his side with a grunt of pain. Okay, maybe some physical evidence existed to disprove the idea of his combat proficiency. After all, the gerblins had nearly killed him. If these three hadn’t come along he had to assume he would be dead right now, moldering in a cave.
Taako, Magnus, and Merle had even rescued his box of belongings, though they’d certainly grumbled about the chore. Barry had insisted though he couldn’t have explained why. Taako had cast levitate on it and Magnus had simply maneuvered it back through the tunnels and out of the cave.
When they’d made it back to the cart Barry had checked it quickly. There was armor, clothing, and a few letters. None of the papers seemed to make any sense. One – which held only two words – had added yet another item to his list of contradictory data. Something about the rather innocuous note made him feel both like curling into a ball and crying but also like screaming and tearing apart the very universe to find…something. Equally as strange as his reaction was the fact that the paper seemed to shimmer with some magic he couldn’t quite understand. It was as if this folded and refolded sheet of vellum was a… As if it was a … Every time he tried to finish that sentence the only word that presented itself was “copy.” But why would someone use magic to reproduce something so inconsequential? It made no sense. None of this made any fucking sense. But also? When he searched his feelings, his instincts, his gut? It felt right, it felt true, it felt unquestionable.
Then there was that fucking coin buried in the pocket of his jeans. Barry has been trusting it with his life but he also kind of hates it. It doesn’t look particularly special. Its a bit larger than most coins and the markings make his thoughts swim when he tries to discern them but it’s just a coin. Attempts to spend the coin never go well, though. Maybe that’s why the gerblins had overlooked it. Maybe it’s cursed. Maybe he is cursed.
The newest addition to his list of contradictions is how, despite the fact that he barely knows these three travelers, despite his extensive list of injuries, despite everything telling him he should be in misery; Barry feels … almost happy. Something about riding with these guys just feels right. Barry’s life has been one of science and study and reason. This new reliance on gut instincts and feelings should worry him, he supposes. But his companions seem just as home with him as he does with them.
Barry pulls his thoughts out of the confused spirals they’d been spinning and turns to the almost heartrendingly beautiful elf beside him.
“Yes,” Taako tells him before Barry can find the words he wants. “I’m that Taako, Taako from TV.”
A surprised laugh escapes from Barry followed instantly by a pained wince as something in his battered chest protests the reaction. “I guess I have been thinking you seemed really familiar.”
“Well, I’ll hit you up with a signed 5"x7” when we get to town, big guy" Taako tells him. “Merle’s asleep with the bags back there,” Taako says with a gesture to the supply area of the wagon behind them where the dwarf’s snores can be heard. “He sleeps au naturel and if you don’t mind that’s a sight I don’t need a refresher for.”
Barry laughs gently, mindful of his aching chest. He’d gotten his own unfortunate eyeful when Merle was settling in. It’s why he’s sitting up front on the bench between Taako and Magnus instead of trying to rest himself.
They ride without speaking for several minutes, listening to the creaking wagon, the unrushed hoofbeats of the horses, and their jangling tack. Magnus shifts his hold on the reins and looks over at them. “Huh,” the fighter says. “I think it’s my birthday today, boys.”
“First drink’s on me when we hit town, then,” Barry offers. He is silent for a few seconds while he does his own quick math. “Mine was last month,” he adds. He casts his memory back and comes up blank. “But for the life of me I couldn’t tell you what I did that day.”
Magnus studies him for a moment before he turns back to the horses. “Maybe just a cider when we hit town, buddy. Sounds like your old dome could use a break from the hard stuff if you know what I mean.”
Magnus’s suggestion is a theory Barry himself has considered before but it doesn’t feel quite right. Could that be alcoholic denial though? He doesn’t feel anything more than a minor craving and even that feels centered more on the camaraderie of the bar than the taste or effect of alcohol. But it’s no less probable than his other theories: he’s losing his mind, he’s cursed by a demon coin, or that he’s no more than a figment of an inconsistent imagination.
Barry shrugs the thoughts away and turns to Taako again. “What about you, Taako? When’s your birthday?”
Taako doesn’t turn towards him, just squints into the distance as if the sun bothers him even though the wide, floppy brim of his hat has thrown a shadow over most of his face.
“I don’t remember,” Taako says quietly. His voice is strained in a way that makes Barry want to hug him, though Barry keeps that instinct thoroughly in check.
Taako straightens himself, sitting taller on the bench as he smiles at the empty road ahead of them. When the elf speaks again his voice is brittle-bright though his tense shoulders belay the faked indifference.
“Who cares about a stupid birthday, though, am I right?” Taako says. “I celebrate weekly with a little thing I like to call ’Taako Tuesday.’”
Tag: fic rec
Like Flying, Like Falling – Beleriandings – Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn [Archive of Our Own]
Chapters: 27/27
Fandom: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Rating: Teen And Up AudiencesWarnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Original Characters, Zeno (Akatsuki no Yona)
Additional Tags: So many OCs, Worldbuilding, Ryokuryuu village, Familial Relationships, adoptive families, nonlinear storytelling, Zeno is there because the author wanted him to be, headcanon that the village wasn’t always as terrible as in the present era, Violence, (original) character death
Almost a century before Jae-ha met Yona and the long wait of the green dragon’s blood to serve its master was ended, something terrible happened in Ryokuryuu village, causing its people to flee, to rebuild their lives, and to lock the dragons away. Very few remember what really happened that night; future generations were told that the village was attacked. But the truth, though lost to history, is not quite that simple….
Like Flying, Like Falling – Beleriandings – Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn [Archive of Our Own]
Humans are Loyal if Properly Bonded
I was in charge of feeding the prisoners. This had been my task since the Queen had taken me and 2 dozen other Murania as hostages. The others had not survived long, but I adapted. Obeyed.
The Queen had taken a human. A rare being this far into the Deep, but one feared from one end of the galaxy to the other. According to the Encyclopedia of Sentient Beings Capable of Space Travel, humans needed a diet of roughly 2000 calories a sol served in traditional 3 portions a sol. Which meant that I had to approach the human three times a sol. I could not fail my duties.
The first attempt at feeding the large being ended with a tray thrown at my head with enough force that it would have caved my skull if I had not ducked in time. The human was raging, slamming their entire body against the containment bars with enough force to shake the floor and… and roaring. I cleaned the mess of nutrient paste as fast as I could and fled.
But five hours later found me trembling in front of the human’s cage with another tray of nutrient paste. The human had calmed and was glaring at me intently. I knew they did not speak Murania, but still I spoke my native language as I offered the food again. I did not get to speak it often and missed the sound. “Guria?”
The human tilted their head and to my shock, repeated the word, then repeated it again until they mimicked the sound perfectly, even with the slight whistle at the end.
I offered the tray. “Guria.”
They eyed it suspiciously so I tasted it, showing it to be safe. “Guria.”
They held their hand out and I gave them the tray, scuttling to a safe corner before they could attack me with it again.
They tilted their head again and scowled, then spoke in broken Common. “I thank”
I fled, claws scratching against the shiny floor.
Another five hours passed all too soon and I was back at the human’s cage with the final meal of the sol. They were moving slowly around the cage with their ear pressed to the wall, tapping with their knuckles. I watched them for a moment, confused at the erratic behaviour, but only managed a few seconds of observation before their head swiveled directly towards me and they stopped to face me.
I walked closer and offered the tray. “Guria.”
They took it. “How talk thank in you mouth talk?”
“Meesh Meesh.”
They opened their mouth and let out a loud, short bark, a laugh according to the ESBCST. (I studied it dutifully when they were brought aboard.) “Meesh Meesh!” They pointed to themselves. “Michael.”
My wings ruffled, the sound was so similar! I pointed to myself, “Mikel”
The human shook their head and pointed to themselves. “Me Michael.”
I jerked my head in an upward motion called a nod. “Yes, you,’ I pointed to them, “Michael.” I pointed to myself. “I, Mikel.”
They laughed again. “Michael, Mikel. Much same.”
I chittered. “Very similar, yes.”
Their eyes narrowed. “You work here?”
I bobbed sideways, a bit noncommittal, “As I must.”
“Must work?”
I searched for the simplest way to translate what I meant across the language barrier. “No work, in there.” I pointed to their cage. “Work, out here.” I hopped encouragingly. “You work soon, yes?”
The human bared their teeth and snarled. “No work. Fight.”
My wings flattened against my spine and I fled. Humans were so aggressive.
The next sol I completed my first duties and then found myself lingering outside the containment hall. I was apprehensive about what mood I would find the human in this time. I fluffed my wings out to convey confidence and clicked in with the human’s first meal.
“Mikel! Guria?” They were bouncing on the front part of their feet, hopping up and touching the ceiling, then dropping to the floor and pushing themselves up with their arms repeatedly.
“Yes. What are you doing?” I slid the tray to where they could reach and backed to a… well not safe but safer, distance.
“Work body. Stay strong.” They flopped over onto their back and turned their head to look at me. “Meesh Meesh.”
“Zuan.” I bobbed sideways before deciding to ask them the question I had been mulling over. “You’re Nice, mean, nice, mean.”
Michael laughed. “Yeah. Head bad.” They hooked their fingers like claws and shook them around their head. “Scare, tired, Fight.” They gestured to the bars and glared. “Not like.”
I nodded. “I know that feeling.” A chime sounded, signaling the Queen’s approach. I flattened myself to the floor and made way.
The Queen slithered in, her scaled body scraping against the floor with a sound that made my feathers stand up. She reared to her full two meter height and flicked her tongue out to taste the air.
“Human. You are mine now, you will serve the glory of me.”
Michael looked her up and down and whistled lowly then pronounced in exact Common. “Ugly. Mother. Fucker.”
I gaped at them in horror. They dared insult the Queen to her face?
The Queen hissed, but smugly coiled. “You will serve me, human. I know your kind. You are loyal. I feed you, I provide you shelter. I give you safety. You will love me.”
The human backed up, crouching into a fighting stance. “No love, mother fucker.”
The Queen wiggled and slid towards the exit. “You will serve me.” They paused to pat me on the head. “You have duties, tiny one.”
The next several sols passed in the same manner. I did my duties, I fed the human, we exchanged words. At night I tended my secret garden grown in glasses of water and composted nutrient paste from seeds and cuttings I snuck from the Queen’s hoard. The human was learning not only Common but Murania at a breathtaking pace. We could hold whole conversations now and I was no longer… completely apprehensive about approaching their cage. Michael had not acted aggressive towards me at all since the Queen’s visit.
The rare human plant called a “green bean” plant had fruited after several months of care and pollinating with the tip of my own feather. I was ecstatic over the first fruits of my secret labor and I felt that Michael would appreciate my excitement and maybe a taste of his home planet. Humans were said to be incredibly empathetic and sentimental.
That morning I secreted a pair of bean pods in my uniform and headed for Micheal’s cage. They seemed to notice something was different right away, peering at me with concern. “All okay, Mikel?”
I nodded and nervously whispered. “Secret, right?”
They lowered their voice and moved closer to the bars. “Yeah, secret.”
I showed him the beans. “I grew these. It’s the first harvest from the plant! It’s a huge secret, but I wanted you to have them.”
Michael stared at the beans with an expression I didn’t recognize for a long time before whispering, their voice strangely rough. “You get trouble for these?”
I nodded and tried to shove the beans into their hands. “Yes, a lot of trouble. Take them!”
They took them and smiled. “Meesh Meesh, Mikel. This…. This mean lot to me. I can’t say enough. Meesh Meesh.” They bit into one and grinned, crunching happily. “Very good! You do good!”
I chittered and ruffled my wings, pleased with the praise. “Zuan, Michael.” I gave them their tray of nutrient paste and fled.
The next day (human word for sol) I found a broken something in the Queen’s trash bin. It was silvery and had a lot of moving parts and made me think of Michael. I shoved it into my uniform and snuck it to Michael. They were overjoyed and immediately began fiddling (another human word I find pleasant to use) with it.
I found I enjoyed making Michael happy and kept my eyes out for things to gift them. A broken flute, a torn book, a shiny rock shard, a discarded pipe, a bit of string. It all was random junk, but Michael was still so happy for each item. It… was a pleasant feeling, almost like being back with my brood mates.
Then… Then the alarms sounded one morning and the ship rocked with an explosion. Frightened, I grabbed my precious green bean plant and rushed instinctively towards Michael’s cage.
Only to find they weren’t there. The bars were broken, bent outward and a piece of the wall was torn open, exposing sparking wires and smashed circuits. The lights were flickering and I could hear screaming. I decided to run for the escape pods and hoped that the Queen died in that explosion.
I had barely skittered into the hallway when I found Michael. They were fighting with a guard twice their size, but easily leaped around it’s bulk and stabbed it in the base of the skull with some sort of spear. A primitive weapon, but still deadly in the hands of the human. Michael rode the body of the guard down to the ground and leaped off, brandishing the spear at me.
Frozen in fear, I distantly realized the weapon was made from the shiny rock tied to a piece of pipe. I was to die from a weapon I provided then.
Except, Michael lowered the weapon and smiled. “Mikel! I find you! Come on! We get out of here!”
“Out… Escape?”
“Yeah! C’mon, I stole codes for ship!”
I followed them numbly, too scared and shocked to process that not only had a single human escaped a 1st class prison cell with just bits of junk, but had also destroyed the Pirate Queen’s ship, and was taking me with them.
It wasn’t until we were flying fast and far from the wreckage, headed towards a Trading Station, that I found my voice. “Why… Why would you save me? I…” I didn’t know how to express the fact that I was nothing, tiny, worth only for cleaning while the human was strong, big, and apparently a fearsome and brilliant warrior.
Michael glanced at me from the corner of their eyes. “We friends, Mikel. Friends no leave friends. Also, you trapped like me. On other side of bars, but trapped same.”
“Friends? But Queen provided for you, you were supposed to bond with her?!”
The human looked at me incredulously before laughing long and loud, his head thrown back with the effort of it. “No Bond with Queen, she put me in cage. You! You give me food, you talk, teach, you bring me presents. You good friend. Queen Piece of Shit.”
“Oh.” Michael had bonded with me. And.. I with them it seemed. And we were free. “Meesh meesh, Michael. You’re a good friend too.” I hugged my green bean plant. “What now?”
“I thinking I turn in Queen head for bounty, use money buy good ship again. After, you want go home or you want explore?”
My wings flared in excitement. “Can I have a garden room on our ship?”
Michael grinned and tossed his arm (gently) around my shoulders. “Yes, you have garden room. Grow lots plant in space. Explore! Garden! New Planet! New Seed!”
Lup takes his hands
and says, “We’re gonna become liches, Taako.”And Taako knows just
enough about that to be terrified. Liches are dangerous, not just to
others but to themselves. Liches can lose their minds. Liches can
lose every vestige of the person they once were.As Lup tries to
explain the process to him, it does nothing to settle his fears. If
anything, they grow. But he hides that, with smiles and teasing and a
large bottle of liqueur for the two to share.Taako doesn’t wait
for morning to begin his research. Once Lup has trotted her way off
to bed, he gives himself ten minutes to have a melt-down, and then
gets to work. Good ol’ Barry has a stash of notes on the subject,
hidden but easy for Taako to find. Natch. After, what, sixty-plus years?
That nerd’s squirrely hidey-holes are predictable.In a few hours, he
has powered through the various notebooks, arcane texts, and—actual
honest to Pan graphs. On necromancy. That’s Barold. Taako
could almost laugh if he didn’t want to cry.All the material is
tucked neatly back away by the time the rest of the crew stirs.
There’s the worry that Lup would catch him, on her way to the
kitchen to start breakfast, but she doesn’t. She’ll be in bed
until late in the morning, when she will emerge cranky and hungover.He almost—almost—wishes she had found him like that. Waist-deep in nerd
babble of the necromantic variety, eyes red, face pale. She would have been worried, but at least they would have shared that.Lup and Barry’s
research isn’t enough, though; he raids his plane for information.
Only three days. But those days are spent tearing through libraries
and arcane labs, frantically looking into every scrap of knowledge,
every school of thought, every description of lichdom. By
the morning of the ceremony, Taako knows almost as much as they do.The
two stand on a hill ringed with dark sigils, and he is below them,
watching intently. Tracking each step. Every possibility for
catastrophe ticking through his mind, like
seconds on a timer.
The
pit in his stomach grows impossibly bigger, threatening to swallow
him from the inside. Right up until his sister is in her body and in
his arms again. And then he breathes.
Five
decades and some years later, Taako is standing in a darkened arena
lit by flashing, techno-color lights, with two men he cares for and
can’t understand why. And one severed head, who shouldn’t be
still alive but is. (Magic, baby.) The head asks them, “Do—how
much do you guys know about liches?”And Taako realizes, to his own surprise, that he knows a lot. Like, a ridiculous amount. All this information about liches bubbles to the surface of his mind, that he
can’t remember ever having learned. Taako must
have been very interested in the subject at some point, and
he can’t understand why.
#taako rolled a 21 arcana check on liches in the suffering game#and this headcanon was born (tags by author @barryjaybluejeans)
bnha au where izuku has a quirk—he gives life to the figurines/stuffed animals he makes
which sounds like it might make for a good hero quirk, right? prime mook maker right there.
except izuku’s such a good kid that their personalities rival carebears and mlp ponies for sheer purity and goodness. like, once he was really pissed off when sewing one and it turned out to be a spitfire—kinda rainbow dash-y at worst. it now tells izuku to challenge his enemies to a duel of honor!! fight them one on one!! show them who’s the man!! whenever izuku is sad.
it’s the most fucking useless quirk for heroism the world has ever seen, according to bakugo, who mocks izuku relentlessly and has been trying to figure out how to make these things explode since izuku showed him the first one. (they’re shockingly indestructible, those nasty fuckers. it really grinds bakugo’s gears.)
and then izuku figures out how to make them care about doing the right thing and protecting the weak as much as he does.
UA, here izuku comes.
His Quirk is useless. Kacchan knows it is, he knows it is, everyone knows that it is. What use is a stupid stuffed doll in a fight, after all, even if it is durable to the point of near-invulnerability.
But Kacchan is going to die if someone doesn’t do something. The heroes can’t, they’re tied up trying to limit the spread of the fires that Kacchan’s powers had started, or otherwise their powers aren’t sufficient to the task of stopping the gelatinous villain without hurting or killing Kacchan or the horrified crowd of onlookers in the process.
His body moves before his brain can finish this train of thought, flinging his backpack and its colorful contents and then him, his legs churning beneath him, forwards. He has just enough time to think something rude before maybe a dozen little beanie baby-sized animals spill out from their various pockets and slap wetly into the villain’s mass.
“What’s going on?” a little crocodile-shaped blue-and-purple plaid doll says as its feet begin to sink into the villain.
“Stop him!” Izuku screams as he dives headfirst over a lashing tentacle.
“Oh, right!”
The crocodile lifts a limb to its mouth, clears its felt throat loudly, and declares in a clear, stern voice, “Stop this at once, villain! Hurting others is never a thing one should resort to, even if it does make you feel better.”
The rest of his dolls join in with a chorus of squeaky and stupidly pompous declamations.
“In the end it’ll just lead to more crying and more bruises all around!” chirrups a star-patterned bat.
“This is just unfair, picking on a kid,” a one-eyed teddy bear in pastel pinks says. “You should pick on someone your own size!”
Izuku wants to cry. Scolding. As if fucking scolding was going to do anything, as if scolding would stop Kacchan from dying.
“Kacchan is going to die!” he screams as he pulls fruitlessly at his oldest and best friend’s arm. “He’s going to die, you useless pieces of garbage! Please! Help me!”
The dolls go quiet. All of them, all at once.
“Oh,” the bear says.
The crocodile opens its jaws wide and clamps down.
On the villain’s eye.
The villain’s entire body convulses in a scream like a tortured harp on fire and a dozen whipping tendrils snap out, attempting to spear his dolls through. Izuku ducks one as the bear cartwheels over and lands on his shoulder.
“Flappy, Bitey!” it commands. “Go for the eyes! Snakey, come here and help me! The rest of you, distract him!”
A snake, the first thing he’d ever animated, zips its way over the villain’s body as an eagle extends soft plush talons and dives, sinking them into the eye that the crocodile isn’t currently chowing down on with felt teeth. The bear seizes it by the tail in both of its fingerless, stuffed arms, takes a running leap off of Izuku’s shoulders, and plunges it deep into the villain’s body. The bat flutters down and seizes the snake’s head as the bear hops down and grabs its main body, setting its feet on the asphalt.
The two of them heave, and Kacchan’s hand, caught around the wrist by the snake’s tail, emerges.
Another half-dozen plush animals leap to assist even as Izuku grabs the impromptu tether and pulls desperately alongside them, pulling out Kacchan’s forearm, then his whole arm, then the rest of his body. Izuku grabs him under the arms as Kacchan slumps over, hacking and coughing but breathing.
Then the bear cannons into them, knocking them sideways a second before a telephone pole-thick limb comes down and craters the road.
“You little twerp!” the villain screams. I’m going to tear you limb from limb!“
Izuku can only stare up in terror as a tentacular horror with a maw like a blender descends upon him.
And then, with a burst of wind that rips the air from his lungs, vanishes.
Oh, he thinks. So this is what death is like.
Because that is All Might right there before him, his arm outstretched in an uppercut, and there isn’t a chance in hell that someone like Izuku would ever have met him when he was alive.
Izuku faints.
Angus McDonald and the Dragon’s Secret – marywhale – The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Category: Gen
Fandom: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Characters: Angus McDonald, Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Silver Dragon Angus
Summary: Angus McDonald is the world’s greatest detective. Angus McDonald is a little boy. Angus McDonald is a silver dragon. These are all true statements, but the last would be a considerable surprise to everyone who knows him.If only the case he’s working didn’t involve a tricky set of wards that dispel his shape shifting magic, his secret would be a lot easier to keep under wraps.
the first of my two 1000 follower giveaway fics! thank you @aphaceland for your amazing request! i love silver dragon angus very much.
also, everyone who is a regular on my blog, please meet the tumblr user behind bone daddy anon. unmasked!
The Hug-Shaped Gift
The box is roughly the size of a car engine, or perhaps a hug-shaped robot. It’s dressed in bright red wrapping paper and tied off with a bow that is, predictably, patterned with flames.
Angus takes the box, shakes it next to his ear, frowns. He…doesn’t know what this is. Magnus had gotten him another duck for Candlenights (Angus hadn’t needed to be the world’s greatest detective to guess that one); from Merle, he’d gotten a book on farming (gross); and from Taako, Glasses of Lightning Comprehension that he pretended was no big deal but Angus knew cost a small fortune because he’d seen the price in a catalog Taako and Mr. Kravitz carelessly left open on their dining room table.
Lup, on the other hand, has done a much better job keeping her present hidden.
“I sincerely hope this doesn’t set me on fire,” he says.
“Don’t be ridiculous, little man.” Lup leans against the counter, takes a sip of Candlenights champagne. “I’d never do something like that.”
“I spent two weeks washing smoke out of my hair from your last Candlenights gift, ma’am,” Angus replies with perfect equanimity.
“Yeah, that book liked you,” Lup snorts. “It tried to set Taako on fire. Singed his ‘do and everything. He was so pissed.”
“To be fair to the book, it was at least an interesting read after it belched at me.” He pries the ribbon off delicately, unfolds the wrapping paper with careful fingers.
When he opens the lid, for a split-second he thinks it’s stuffed with wrapping paper, because his gift is the same deep crimson color. Wrapping-paper gifts are good goofs, and ones that Taako have pulled on him before.
Then he reaches in to touch the contents of the box, and they do not feel like paper. They’re soft and strangely warm.
“You know, we didn’t even have to get your measurements? It was remarkable, bud. Magnus just held his arms out ‘about Angus-circumference,’ and we went from there.” There’s laughter in her voice.
Angus is, for the first time in several years of his young life, rendered speechless. He sets the box on the counter and plucks out the gift and lets the fabric unfurl before him. She’s right. It’s exactly his size.
“The patch is a little different, ‘cause Merle insisted we make all the letters lowercase instead of upper, since you’re a kid and all, but yeah.” Lup waves toward the robe with the stem of her glass. “Authentic IPRE merch and all, except it’s not really merch, it’s more of a genuine article. We give out shitty replicas in tours, but this? This is the real deal, little dude. All for you.”
Angus shrugs it on. It fits comfortably around his shoulders. Like a hug.
“Taako gave us a little bit of shit, ‘cause he said it interfered with his brand,” Lup continues. Angus’s eyes begin to sting, his jaw split with a wide grin. “Said that eight birds didn’t have the same ring as seven, but Barry and I told him to stuff it where the suns don’t shine. Hey — oh no, hey, kiddo, you okay?”
Angus nods vigorously, pushing up his glasses to scrub at his eyes. “I love it,” he whispers, holding his arms in front of his face to inspect the sleeves. They’ve been woven so fine he can hardly see the thread. “I love it a lot, Miss Lup. Thank you.”
“Aw, little man,” she says, and sets aside her glass to scoop him up in her arms. “Didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I’m not upset!” he hastens to reassure her. He sniffles, digs around the inside of his new robe — his new, his own red robe — to procure a handkerchief. “I’m really happy. It feels like a hug.” He grins up at her, wide and watery. “Thank you.”
Lup studies him, then tosses on a grin. “Course, kid,” she says. “That’s kinda the IPRE’s gig, y’know? People that don’t have a family finding it in others.” She ruffles his hair affectionately.
Angus gives her a big hug, and she doesn’t even seem to mind that he’s crying all over her nice Candlenights blouse. His sleeves spill over hers, mingling mint green fabric with deep red. He sniffs again at the sight. This is the same color that his family wore when they were saving the world. It’s warm and comfortable and he never wants to take it off, ever.
“Thank you,” he manages. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s so happy. “I never — I’m really glad I met you guys.”
“Of course, Ango,” she says, and holds him tighter. “Us too. Happy Candlenights, little dude.”
Baby ’s first TAZ fic! Inspired by this actual news story. Shout-out to @fridge246 for being a wonderful beta!
Spoilers through the whole mini-arc-pilot-thing.
Kirby found the woman seated in a booth by the door of the little coffee shop in downtown Kepler, just where they had agreed to meet. In the small room, empty but for her and a few of the sleepy town’s residents out for lunch, she was easy to spot.
The woman looked, in two words, fancied up. Artificial tan and frosted tips, and cosmetics applied with surprisingly artful hand. She looks just as put together as she did in all the photos he found while researching her story online; the more recent photos, anyway. It was clear she had made special changes in her appearance lately, the way a person does when they are trying to impress a certain someone.
And, Kirby thought, eyeing her tee-shirt which bore the iconic silhouette of Sasquatch on the front, he had a pretty good idea who that someone was.
Powerful anon back with another powerful concept: did Angus have college friends. College is such a weird time and college kids are such weird people. Can you even IMAGINE. Someone starts a petition to have Angus become the new school mascot.
angus being friends with college kids. hell yeah. i meant for this to go into “angus the new school mascot” territory, but instead it zagged on me and the petition went… elsewhere. but i love this and also i’m in love with angus’s terrible college friends. thank you again, powerful anon, for bringing me yet another amazing concept.
Angus McDonald makes his first friend at Lucas’s Academy of Arcane Sciences when a short purple tiefling trips on his way down the stairs of the Planar Physics lecture hall and dumps a smoothie on Angus’s shoes.
“Shit,” says the tiefling. “I mean shoot! Shoot, I bullied the professor’s kid. Kid, don’t tell your parent. Are you okay? Are you allergic to eggs? Or, like, sausage?” He pauses, red eyes wide. “Is coffee going to stunt your growth?”
“I’m thirteen,” Angus says, barely restraining himself from adding a reflexive sir. It’s a habit he’s trying to wean himself off of. He shuffles his damp feet, shaking off some of the smoothie. It’s brown-grey and looks like sludge. “What… is this?”
“Oh,” says the tiefling. “I call it drink-fast. ‘Cause it’s a full breakfast in a cup—coffee, toast, eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, and ice.” He pauses. “Also because you need to drink it fast to get it down. It’s a prototype. I’m Jeremy, by the way. Are you, uh… is your parent the prof? I swear I can clean your shoes. It was totally an accident.”
“I’m Angus,” Angus says, and casts Prestidigitation to whisk the disgusting drink off his feet and out of existence. “I’m the TA.”
Jeremy blinks down at Angus, like maybe he wants to call bullshit on the TA thing, and then takes in the stack of syllabi in Angus’s arms. “Fuck,” he says. “I spilled drink-fast on the TA.”
Angus can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him and Jeremy seems to take the fact that Angus is thirteen and in the Planar Physics graduate program in stride. Angus is used to being dismissed because of his age and maybe a bit of jealous or to awe, when people figure out that he used to work for the Bureau of Balance and that the Bureau of Benevolence is still technically his legal guardian. Jeremy doesn’t connect the dots and Angus—feeling only marginally guilty over the lie of omission—doesn’t help him.
Jeremy, it turns out, has many friends and a study group who’s more than happy to accept Angus-the-young-TA as a member. Syr, a dwarf with a badly dyed pink beard, and Bernie, a half-elf who’s more concerned about maintaining his GPA than Angus’s age.
“Should we watch our language?” Syr asks, the day Angus joins their group. “I swear at planar physics as a concept, like, a lot. Kid, do you… know swear words?”
“I’m a teenager,” says Angus. “You can say fuck.”
He is an instant hit.
JEREMY!!!!!!
also the rest of this is good too i guess
Recommend your anon squad some TAZ fics? Especially more lovely long fics like yours? =} =} =}
anon, i will do my best! i’m not actually sure what qualifies something as a longfic, but all these fics are 20k+ words and i highly recommend them. i will say, these may be on the older side because one thing people don’t tell you, when you start writing fic, is that sometimes writing them means suddenly you don’t have time to read them. on the plus side, with one exception they’re all complete.
Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V by @mystery-moose
Rated: Teen
Author’s Summary: They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.
Notes: A mystery-centric fic that focuses on Angus and Taako’s relationship after Angus grows up and opens his own detective agency in Neverwinter. Taako and Angus’s relationship and how it’s changed over the years plays a central role as Taako inserts himself in Angus’s day job and helps his magic boy solve a mystery. The characterization and voices are great and the fic offers major found family feels. (A particular favourite of mine.) I read this this summer, before I started writing fic, and it was one of the stories that made me want to start. It was written and posted pre-finale, but absolutely holds up.
i will buy the flower shop by @weatheredlaw
Rated: Teen
Author’s Summary: magnus and julia burnsides move to neverwinter, open a restaurant, and pick up some extra family along the way.Notes: Speaking of found family, this restaurant au is full of those good feelings. It’s a multi-ship ensemble piece (focusing primarily on canon relationships). This is one of two fics I’ve written a small essay about (the other is also on this list) because it struck such a deep chord with me. This fic builds its layers and depth as it goes. Each chapter contains its own self-contained plot, while the overall story revolves around the ways the characters relate to each other. It’s a quiet, nuanced fic that builds into a story that resonates with emotional truth.
Permanence by @raininginadelaide
Rated: Explicit
Author’s Summary: Kravitz absolutely, one hundred percent does not have a crush. He is not a crush sort of man. He is an award-winning tattooist, an artist; he works hard, possibly too often. Some might even call him a workaholic, concentrating on his career to the detriment of everything else.But then Taako walks into his studio, and everything changes.
Notes: Permanence is a Taakitz modern au, billed as a tattoo artist/rockstar au, which makes it sound like a much rowdier story than it is. This is a romance, the story of a relationship that builds slowly, and not without bumps, and it’s told very well. I’ve said here before that romance is hard and this is an example of romance done well. We learn about Taako and Kravitz and what each of them find important as they reveal themselves to each other and as they’re surprised by the relationship they’re building. It’s not yet complete, but it’s absolutely worth jumping in now. The explicit chapters are clearly marked, which makes it really easy to skip them if that’s not your thing.
those afternoons and evenings by @moonfullofstars
Rated: Gen
Author’s Summary: The moments and years in between, in which feelings take root despite the constantly changing landscape. Alternatively: The world has been ending for forty years and Taako and Kravitz can’t stop falling in love.Notes: This fic is a Taakitz tazswap and is a sequeal to the author’s previous fic does he project, does he have ideas? It features Kravitz, Julia, and Hecuba as members of the IPRE, replacing Barry, Magnus, and Merle. Told through a series of non-chronological vignettes, this story does things with dramatic irony that are unbelievable. We go in knowing that Kravitz and Taako are going to get together, knowing exactly where and when, and still it is surpising and tense and the worlds the crew visits are richly described and imaginative. This is the second fic on the list I ended up writing a small essay about because I loved it so much. It’s a study in contrasts and tension and as someone who has read it both in posted and chronological order? It works both ways. That’s impressive.
unreliable narrator by @owlinaminor
Rated: Gen
Author’s Summary: The most powerful person in the multiverse was once a literature major.Notes: This is an absolutely engrossing Lucretia character study that hands down cemented my feelings on and the way I characterize Lucretia. I sat down and read it in one afternoon when it came back and then went back and read it again like a week later. It is a phenomenal work featuring some of the best writing in the fandom. The story explores Lucretia’s thought processes and relationships with the other members of the IPRE in a way that is both compassionate and insightful without sugarcoating Lucretia’s hard decisions.
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