Hey guys, sorry I've been so inactive on this blog, I'm currently trying to finish up school and find a way to get my hands on some sweet sweet HRT (I don't have it yet but hopefully I will soon), plus I have my own creative projects I've been working on, so I just haven't gotten around to drawing TAZ recently. Once school's out I should be back on track though and hopefully I can go back to posting here regularly, I just gotta get past these last few weeks. But yeah it's not much but I've been having a lot of emotions regarding my gender recently and this quote always helped me feel a bit better, so even if it's just a doodle it was really nice to just get it off my chest.
If you guys have been here a while, you saw this coming. TAZ came back and it just made a perfect storm.
cw: trans pregnancy
Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed this over on Ao3!
-------
Kravitz was used to coming home to chaos in the kitchen.
He was used to opening the door to crashing of pans, rattling of lids, bubbling that sounded like the roaring of disgruntled dragons, even the flash and bellow of leaping flames. Sometimes in different colours. He was used to smells that sent him back to other sides of the planet, even other planes, billowing out of their enormous kitchen. And above everything, he was used to music. He was used to loud, off-key singing to cheesy disco tunes or, more recently, blaring classical music after Taako had promised to listen to some of his husband’s favourites.
Kravitz was used to coming home to noise. In fact, he searched for it, reached towards it like you leant towards a fire when you were cold, back when he used to do those things. Out there, it was quiet movements, hunting and being hunted, lungs dead and heart still, the envy of any predator. Until someone pounced.
But here at home the noise was like a shield, a blanket Kravitz could wrap around himself and feel safe and human under. It was the sign that he could breathe, whether he needed to or not.
Which was why it felt so totally and completely bone-deep wrong when Kravitz materialised on his own front porch and heard silence.
Frowning, he let his robes and scythe dissolve into shadow, tucking them away wherever it went when he didn’t need it. He’d never worried about understanding the particulars of his magic, it was borrowed after all. Part of Kravitz thought that being out of his reaper form, back in the comfortable clothes, that would snap everything back to normal. The muffled music would come flooding in, he’d hear his husband’s gorgeously off key song, smell cardamom or turmeric or garlic and everything would be okay again. A silly thought, but he was still disappointed when it didn’t happen.
Kravitz could open a rift right into their home of course. But he liked the moment when he got to push the door back and call out that he was home, feeling the wash of relief it brought him and, he hoped, Taako. He certainly felt like he could see it in his eyes when his elf would come running.
“Darling? I’m back,” Kravitz couldn’t keep the slightly nervous tone out of his voice.
Already his anxious mind was coming up with scenarios to feed that sense of wrongness, everything that could be happening. And of course he kept going back to the same thing, as much as he wanted to avoid it. Please don’t let it be that.
“In here.”
Taako’s voice sounded smaller than usual, a little far away, but still from the kitchen. It did nothing to dampen Kravitz’s fear.
“Taako?” he lengthened his stride, barely noticing their living room rushing past him in a blur of knitted throws, homemade art and three cats sleeping in various places, “Is everything alright?”
All he got in response was a sigh, one that trembled at the end.
Kravitz’s eyes were wide and already searching for danger, one hand twitching to summon his scythe, the other itching for his phone to call the hospital. What froze him was- finally- the smell of home. Sugar and peanut butter and chocolate. But just sitting in bowls on the countertop, measured by eye the way Taako could do so impressively, waiting but static. A pan too, bubbling expectantly on the stove, his favourite spoon standing ready, the oven humming with heat. Their comfortable, safe evening was ready to start but stalled.
And Taako was leaning back against the counter, his hands pressed to his face, his ears down and shoulders tight.
Kravitz’s fear ignited again with a fierce roar and he rushed forward, resisting the urge to open a rift and close the distance that much faster.
“Taako? What’s the matter, can you talk? Does something hurt, you can just point, I can call someone-”
But Taako shook his head tightly, drawing his hands away. He looked ashen and ill but that wasn’t exactly new, he’d been looking like that pretty much constantly for six weeks now. His hair- blonde at the moment- was piled on top of his head in an overflowing bun, his clothes a plain sweater dress and dark leggings, making him look uncharacteristically underdressed.
More uncharacteristic, there were tears in his eyes. As much as he was keeping them down so Kravitz might somehow not see.
“Darling…” Kravitz’s voice was gentle, coaxing. Often Taako’s years of being alone, his fear of showing vulnerability, would seize him out of nowhere and steal his words. It would drive him into corners and close him off to Kravitz. And he couldn’t let that happen now, “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. We’ll fix it, we’ll be okay. You just have to tell me.”
“No,” Taako’s voice was raw, weighed down under so many negative emotions, shame quickly becoming the heaviest, “It’s not that it’s...it’s stupid…”
Kravitz gathered that this wasn’t a physical hurt, some part of him sighing in relief. A very small part, most of him still aching at the sound of Taako’s voice.
“I’m sure it isn’t, Taako. Nothing that makes you feel this way is stupid, not to me. Here…”
He opened his arms with no expectations that his husband would move into them or wouldn’t. Sometimes touch was too much, sometimes Taako seemed to need it more than air. This seemed to be the latter, long, slim but strong arms locked around his waist and soft, blonde hair that smelled of strawberry pressed against his cheek.
“It is. I’m being stupid, babe, I…I don’t know why I’m acting like this…” he pressed his face against Kravitz’s chest.
“Well,” he kissed the top of his head, “We know why you’re acting like this. Even if I still disagree with you about how stupid it might be.”
There was a heavy sigh and the arms tightened around his waist, “You’re buying me every coffee I ever have for the rest of my damn life. And I’m picking the movie every time we go. And...and I can’t think of any more stuff right now but when I do…”
“You can add it to the list,” Kravitz promised, feeling a rush of warmth and, on its heels, the desperate need to do something. To not feel so helpless.
Maybe not feel so responsible.
Kravitz’s hand came up to rest on Taako’s stomach. There was nothing to show for the weeks of exhaustion, the days started with vomiting and curse words, the fight his husband was going through with his body, a fight he thought he’d won a long time ago. And one he was doing again, for them, so they could have a family. There was nothing to show, yet, but Kravitz felt something all the same. A spark, tiny and faint now but he could tell how strong it would grow.
“Taako, I’m sorry,” Kravitz sighed.
His husband shifted, leaning into his hand, “No. If I’m not allowed to say I’m stupid, you’re not allowed to say sorry, babe.”
Kravitz had to laugh, running his thumb across the wool of Taako’s jumper. He would have slipped it under the fabric but his husband had been running cold lately and his hand wouldn’t have helped.
“So tell me. If you’re not stupid and I’m not apologetic, tell me what’s wrong and we can fix it together.”
Kravitz couldn’t help it, he paused. He had to, making sure he’d heard right. Taako of course took his surprise as something else and gave a strangled groan, ears moving down to hide him again.
“No, no!” Kravitz jerked himself to attention, taking Taako’s hands quickly, “No, of course…of course that’s upset you, darling.”
It made more sense now. The ingredients laid out but abandoned in frustration, the stalled attempt to do the one thing that Taako really enjoyed. Because how could he progress if nothing tastes right? He didn’t follow recipes, he went by his tongue, no end result exactly the same twice but always beautiful. Of course taking that away from him was like leaving him blind.
Kravitz moved so his arm was around Taako’s thin shoulders, letting him press close as he pulled up his phone, “So can you just not taste at all or…?”
He already had multiple websites and articles on pregnancy bookmarked, he’d been consulting them religiously whenever a question came up or if he had a free moment at work. Ig going from reading about cognitive development to claiming the souls of necromancers was meant to be disconcerting, Kravitz had not been human long enough to ignore it.
“I can,” Tako mumbled miserably, “But it’s wrong. Everything tastes metallic and nothing’s the way it should be. It’s like back when I got a bad tongue piercing. Don’t ever do that, babe. Non reactive metals only.”
“I’ll bear it in mind,” Kravitz gives him a fond smile before scrolling, “Ah! Okay, difference in taste is apparently a very common pregnancy symptom. Metallic taste, not liking things you used to...yes, it's all here.”
“Fabulous,” Taako’s voice was flat and unimpressed, “Does it say what to do about it? I’m a freaking chef, Krav, I can’t do nine months of this.”
“Um…” Kravitz kept scrolling, his heart sinking as he did, “Well...it’s a hormonal change thing so, uh...wait it out?”
Taako closed his eyes, looking like he was trying to count to ten and failing.
“Well fucking shit,” he eventually said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Kravitz felt something in him stamp its foot and dig its heels in and say a very firm and implacable no. No, this was not going to be yet another thing Taako had to give up because, in spite of what everyone had assumed and in spite of Kravitz’s reassurance that any decision he made was okay, he’d said yes to this. This was not going to be something he just had to endure.
Kravitz had forgotten a lot about being alive, he’d be the first to admit that. But Taako, living with him and loving him, had been slowly reminding him of these things he’d never had but had wanted, back when his heart had been beating. Now that he had them he wasn’t going to sit back on his heels.
“I’ll do it for you,” he said firmly, putting his hand on Taako’s shoulder.
Golden eyes opened a little, peeked at him curiously, “You’ll what?”
“I’ll be your taster,” Kravitz insisted, looking over the ingredients, “What are you making here? Peanut butter cookies?”
He was familiar enough with those, Taako always turned to them for comfort, he had since he was tiny. Simple, sweet and warm. There was nearly always a box of them somewhere in their cupboards and Kravitz knew Taako sent his sister a batch once a week.
“Um...babe, you don’t need to eat?” Taako was blinking up at him in confusion.
“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” he shrugged, moving to pick up the spoon, handing it to Taako, “Well, since I met you anyway.”
A smile pulled at the corners of his husband’s mouth, some of the light starting to come back into his eyes, “So what, you’re going to taste as I go along and tell me what I need to add?”
“Oh I’d never presume that much. I’ll describe it to you and you can tell me what it needs,” Kravitz put a hand on his chest in pantomimed horror, “You’re Taako from TV, darling.”
Taako’s chin jerked up and his smile grew, igniting with some of his old fire.
“You bet your ass I am. Alright then, we can make this work.”
And, as it happened, they could. Kravitz’s taste buds had been shaken back awake after he’d met Taako from TV after who knew how long sleeping. He’d been remembering old favourites, finding memories and moments in the corners of his mind that he thought he’d lost, brought back by the things his husband placed in front of him. And peanut butter, sugar, chocolate, who didn’t like those?
So Taako went through the familiar, comfortable steps, stirring and beating and sifting. Every so often, he would hold out his spoon and Kravitz would obediently catch some on his finger and taste it, describing it as best he could. If it needed more cinnamon, he would say so. If it was a little too sweet, he told him. And based on that, Taako would nod and add a pinch more salt or swap the milk chocolate for dark, before long he was never missing a beat.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, the music got turned back on, a cheesy pop number that had Taako bouncing on the balls of his feet without really realising and Kravitz singing under his breath even though he hadn’t even realised he knew the words. Taako started to dance around the kitchen the way he used to, rather than just walking, his movements looser and freer and infectious. He was smiling again, nodding his head, hands moving in the air, going through the strange gestures he made whenever he cooked, like he was doing magic as he moved.
Though Kravitz noticed that whenever the elf had a hand free, it gravitated to his stomach and rested there. Whenever he noticed it, Kravitz smiled to himself though he didn’t comment.
Eventually, they had a tray full of golden brown cookies. They smelled exactly as Kravitz remembered and certainly looked like they always did. When he bit into one he tasted that comfort and light and warmth he’d been looking for when he’d landed on his front porch just an hour or so ago.
“Want to try one?” he asked Taako, who’d gotten sore ankles and perched on the counter a little while ago.
Taako hesitated, fingers threaded over one knee drawn to his chest. But, after a beat, he leaned forward, reaching out.
“Well...guess it isn’t much of an experiment if I don’t try it out?”
Kravitz nodded encouragingly, watching as Taako bit into the cookie almost hesitantly.
After a moment, the wariness in his eyes eased and the corners of his mouth twitched up.
“It doesn't taste the same,” he admitted, “But it’s good. Different but good.”
Kravitz beamed, moving forward to kiss Taako’s cheek, letting him wind around him. “Different but good. We can work with that, yes?”
“Yeah,” he felt more than heard Taako murmur against his shoulder, “Sure we can, babe.”
Kravitz closed his eyes, moving his hand to rest over Taako’s stomach and unsurprised to find that his husband’s was already there, ready to lace their fingers together.
Kravitz got the feeling that there would be more nights where he came home and there wouldn’t be that comforting, safe bubble waiting. Change was coming, a bigger and more permanent change than they’d experienced since they first got together, Kravitz wouldn't always be able to depend on it being there for him. Sometimes they would need to build it together, him and Taako.
And that was okay. Because some nights, most nights, he would come home and there would be that noise and light and laughter, twice as much now there were two people in the kitchen.
THE TAACO TWINS ARE N O T CIS AND ILL STAND BY THIS ‘TIL THE DAY I DIE!! D:<
he’s a TRANSmutation WIZARD !!!! >:(((
hahygygy hastily drawn doodle at like 1am of an actually good joke i made in an old sketchbook bc im Bitter n nonbinary taako is the Only Way To Go :P!
