anonymousalchemist:

anonymousalchemist:

anonymousalchemist:

your mother was a saint and your father was a criminal, your mother was a no-name vagabond and your father was a prince, your mother is a dead woman and your father is a dead man and there’s no point in speculation. here’s the truth of things: your sister is a liar and a cheat and a firebrand and she’s the only good thing in your life, and you’re a liar and a cheat and a skulking thief, and you’re going to be famous and rich if you have to turn the entire world to gold to make that happen.

you can do it, see. you’ve been learning transmutation.

things that are hard: chopping wood, carrying water, smiling when you don’t want to smile.
things that are easy: the way that one thing flows into another, the alchemy of cooking, how you and your sister switch places because no one looks closely enough to see that you do not have the same face.

magic is just change, and you’re good at change, because half the time you answer to lup and she answers to taako — which is different from when the grownups in the caravan referred to lup as “he,” but the two of you sorted that out right quick. magic is just the application of the fact that everything is everything else, and you get that, because you’re taako, you’re half of lupandtaako, you’re the kitchen boy, you’re whatever anyone needs from you because you need to eat.

the kids in their fancy schools ain’t got half as much motivation.

Sometimes you imagine being rich, going to school. Not having to read textbooks written in half-a-dozen dialects, borrowed from libraries on three different continents, getting tutored by roving mages who more often blow themselves up than not.

You imagine not sharing a bunk with Lup. The two of you bunk together in shitty bunks in shitty caravans — it’s not a question, two half-grown scrawny elves, space is at a premium, and you dream of being able to sprawl out. You love your sister and the two of you are a package deal and she’s the only person in the world who cares about you — but you would like to sleep through the night without getting poked by her pointy elbows.

You imagine a sunlit apartment with two bedrooms and a full kitchen. You imagine a mansion with seventy four rooms and crystal chandeliers. Both of these things seem equally out of reach — you can’t imagine permanence, is the thing, you can’t imagine belonging somewhere, having something belong to you that isn’t: clothes on your back, your secondhand wand, your hat that you stole two summers ago. Whatever Lup keeps in her pack — you know what she keeps, her wand, her clothes, a lighter.

Lup’s fire thing should worry you. it doesn’t. She puts out matches with her fingertips. She always volunteers to start the campfire. She’s learning evocation magic from books even though everyone says she should cool it with the destructive stuff before she blows you both up. You nick salve for her blisters and don’t say a word. 

you think about: grown ass adults, people yelling at you, threat of no certain future. you dont like fighting, see, fighting means its your skinny ass against someone twice your size and there’s only so much cleverness can help you with, and someday you’re gonna be grown but here and now you’re a nobody with a wand that only listens to you half the time, a hat that falls over your eyes. 

if lup can turn the flicker from her lighter into a fireball, more’s the better, you figure. 

you’ve got your own tricks too, and you’re halfway done with figuring out magic missile. then no one’s gonna mess with you. someday you’ll be out of here, you think, sleeping under the dusky sky during the summer, someday the two of you will be somewhere else. an apartment, a boardinghouse, jobs in the city. no more caravans, no more dusty roads. 

soon as you’re old enough to be legally employable – soon as you look legally employable. 

ruffboijuliaburnsides:

@weatheredlaw said a thing in WDA chat and then this happened.

“Keep him out of the way. Just make him peel potatoes or somethin until we can off load him,” the caravan master grunts at Taako and Lup, shoving a scrawny, scraped-up human boy at them before walking away.  They stare at the child blankly, and he stares back uncertainly.  Sure, they look like adults, but they’re not cut out for fucking parenting.  

“Can they talk at that age?” Taako asks Lup, not entirely joking.

“Um,” says the boy.  “Yes!  I can talk!”

“Cool, cool,” Lup says.  “That’s something at least.”  She tosses a potato and a peeler in the kid’s direction.  He fumbles both of them, dropping them in the dirt only to quickly pick them up and rub them clean with a shirt that looks barely cleaner than the ground.  “So, what’s your story?”

“Um,” the boy repeats, awkwardly trying to think and put peeler to root vegetable all at the same time.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Taako comments dryly.  The kid sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth and slides the peeler unevenly across the potato, one flake of potato skin falling to the ground.

“My mom and dad died,” the kid says matter-of-factly, slowly trying to get the hang of peeling.  “And the Sisters couldn’t keep me any more ‘cause there weren’t food for the little kids if I stayed.  They said I could work for the caravan, but I guess they’re getting rid of me too.”

“Mmm,” Lup hums, not quite looking at the kid as she cleans the meat for the stew.  “Sounds rough.”

The kid shrugs.  “It’s okay.  I’m kind of used to it by now.”

“What’s your handle?” Taako asks, purely out of boredom, definitely not slicing the onions with more vigor than strictly necessary.  The kid looks confused, so Taako sighs deeply and repeats the question.  “What’s your name?”

“Magnus,” the kid said.  “Magnus Burnsides.”

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jumpboy-rembrandt:

“Taako!”

Barry instinctively froze and Lup started laughing.

“Sounds like someone’s in trou-ble,” she sang at her brother, perched beside her on the arm of the couch. He scoffed.

“You’re only in trouble if you get caught,” he said as their captain stormed into the room. He held up a sticky, purple hand.

“What is your definition of ‘caught’, Taako?” he growled. “Because there’s nobody else on this ship who could  – or would – cast a spell to make all the doorknobs to transmute into jelly upon contact.” Taako fluttered his eyelashes at Davenport, his face a perfect mask of innocence.

“I am but a simple idiot wizard,” he said. Davenport was halfway to rubbing the bridge of his nose before he remembered the jelly.

“Yesterday, we all watched you make a Candlenights feast out of bark, one fish, and expired milk.” Taako hummed.

“I don’t remember that,” he finally said. Davenport sighed and headed for the door.

“Well, in that case, you won’t be able to stop me from sending your entire room to a pocket dimension.”

This time, even Barry cracked up as Taako yelped and ran after the captain.

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barryjaybluejeans:

I already had gathered  a rec list of works featuring these two for a friend, so I’m sharing it for #FicRecDays. All stories are rated Teen or General.

• Unfilled Gaps by blueshine. “Taako had this feeling. He never had a name for it, he never spoke of it, and did everything he could not to think on it.“ Post-Stolen Century. Much angst, very cry.
• Basil and Thyme by Newt. “Sometimes, you have to take things into your own hands. And sometimes, those hands are little and lonely and covered in dirt.
  This is the story of the twins’ first night on their own.” Slightly angsty, but sweet and hopeful.
• the most fragile people by pandabrite. “lup and lucretia come up with a plan to try and help taako, who is being
  slowly drug into apathy by their never-ending mission. taako does some
  magic. the gang cooks a wonderfully horrible meal. lucretia learns what
  lies beneath taako’s facade.“ Angst, angst, angst, hurt/comfort, feat. some Taako and Lucretia bonding. During The Stolen Century
• Taako and Lup’s Master Chef Cook-Of Challenge by Newt. “The twins gather the crew for a blind taste test, to settle a score once and for all.“ Funny shenanigans on the Starblaster.
• On the Road Again by InterNutter. “Some things change, some things remain the same. As always, a little kindness can go a long way.“ Hurt/Comfort of the two on their own, before their time with the caravans.
• Remain Nameless by Newt. A pretty funny and absolutely in-character explanation for the “Taaco” last name, set just before the IPRE days.
• right past wrongs by taakofromtaz. ““Come with me.” “I could never leave you behind.”“ AU where Taako goes with Lup. Short, but oh-so good.
• Something That Worked For a While by a_big_apple. “There’s a bright moon outside the open window, and the light limns the
  unfamiliar room. He can’t get comfortable. The cot is too small, or too
  big, and the house is too quiet when everyone’s asleep. He’s never slept
  alone before, and he suddenly feels like he might never be able to
  sleep again. “I think I made a mistake,” he whispers to the pillow, and
  pretends his sister can hear him.“ Just a taste of angst. Another short one, but also good.

tazdelightful:

tazdelightful:

In Barry’s coin monologue he says that his father died before he knew him and his mother had gray hair when he was a baby. So it’s possible they were nearly too old to have kids when he was born? And that makes me think of various fairy tales where there’s a couple who believe they are barren but pray and pray for a child until finally a witch or a magic being of some kind is like, “do this repetitive ritual on this time of day for this long of time, and eat this thing, and blah blah you will have a child.” And then they do and the child is born with some kind of weird destiny.

So what I’m getting at is what if Barry is a magic baby and maybe was deposited under a cabbage leaf by a fairy for his mother to find, THOUGHTS?

Hey I thought about this more.

Gregor and Marlena settled into their farmhouse with a plan to fill it with children, but nearly three decades later, it seemed that the universe had other plans. Every few years Marlena chose a new deity to bring offerings to, inevitably moving on to the next when her prayers went unanswered. She thought she had run out of temples to frequent when she noticed a small, overgrown shrine off the main road into the Holy District.

Few people ask favors of the goddess of death. They fear that the consequence will be the prevalence of death in their own lives. But the Raven Queen does not trade in souls (all souls return to her in the end). She requires service.

Marlena left her tribute at the shrine, whispered a prayer, and returned home. That night she had a dream of a woman in black robes, the skull of a raven in place of her head, and a voice commanding but gentle.

Many forget, it is the ebb and flow of life with which I concern myself. You will have a son, but he will devote himself to me when he is grown. This is my first condition.

My second is this: You must bring him to my shrine and that is where you will name him.

I do love babies. No one ever lets me see their babies.

When Marlena woke, she told her husband, who was skeptical, at best. But nine months later, they had a son, and they took him to the shrine and named him Barry.

Growing up in the Bluejeans household, there was a black feather which hung over the doorway in the kitchen. A neighbor child once asked what it was for.

“That’s a token of the Raven Queen,” Barry told him. “My mom likes her for some reason.”