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tikificTitle: Lazy Lord Liam and the Rather High Transom (Mythklok interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Angel baby madness again
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing
Notes: In case you were wondering....
"You know, it is quite possible, Lady Raziel, that Liam simply will not manifest a winged Form."
"Oh, he's got wings. He's just too lazy to show them. Aren't you?" Lady Raziel addressed her child, who sat, merrily sticking his tongue out at her as if in reply. "We'll send you to the Lazy Baby Farm, that's what we'll do!" she averred, as the lazy infant in question sat merrily giggling.
"You do realize, don't you, that there exists no such destination as a lazy baby farm?" Ganesh politely inquired, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck.
"Well, he's a baby, so he's too silly to know that," Raziel explained. "I still think he's gonna manifest. We just have to find a motivation."
"I may just have an idea in that regard...." Ganesh told her.
They exited the room, closing the door behind them, and leaving three angelic babies to their own devices.
"Wrlaaaaaa!" called out Elias, who tended to be a ringleader at these sorts of things.
Baby Abby responded by popping little dark wings out of the convenient wing holes her Mommy now insisted be included on her onesies. She was wearing a particularly awesome outfit today: it appeared as if she was playing a tiny Gibson Flying V complete with a baby-sized guitar strap. It had been a gift from Unky Toki, probably intended, as much as anything, to annoy Unky Skwisgaar, who only muttered about how "dat ams craps guitars."
"Braggle?" Abby inquired of her brother, who promptly stretched, rolled over, and dozed off, much like a very tiny beached whale. Abby frowned, extended her wings, lowered her mass, and flew over to where Elias was perched on a table, his silvery-tipped wings fluttering like a mad bumblebee. After a moment's consultation, the two mobile children made for the nursery window, which, despite much pulling at handles with chubby little fingers and babbled spells, remained stubbornly closed.
The children headed back to sit on the table, seemingly mocked by the pretty spring sun, easily visible outside. Abby huffed, but then pointed to the nursery door. It was firmly shut, but there was a transom window, propped open a few inches, over the door. The children, fixing looks of determination, barreled towards it. As if by signal (in fact, quite by signal, as they were babbling in Baby Angelic), each gripped the lip of the transom and gave a mighty tug....
They crashed to the floor with a very amusing, if painful, splat. They both soon rose, flapping and furious.
Liam, who had been roused by the sound, was giggling furiously. "Frrabble," Abby told him, which only made him grin. He yawned and drifted back tom sleep.
Elias had fluttered back to the top of the door, where he nosed around for a bit. Then he actually peered through the window glass, and dive-bombed down to where Abby was still looking baby daggers at her brother.
They gabbled, and both flew back to look through the window to what lay outside. They looked at each other. A plan appeared to form.
"Eeeeeeeaarggh!" squealed Liam. He had been napping peacefully when two sets of chubby hands had gripped him under his own flabby little arms and he found himself pulled worryingly skyward. Abby and Elias now had him hovering by the transom window, both beating wings furiously, as Liam was, even at this tender age, already the biggest by far of the three. His abductors babbled and pointed to the window,
He looked, catching a tantalizing glance of what lay outside his terrible nursery prison.
And then they were all three on the ground, Abby and Elias huffing and puffing with the considerable effort.
Liam looked up.
It seemed a very long way. It was maybe the tallest door in the whole world.
He looked at them sadly. It was just so far up.
"Glaaarb," he said apologetically.
Abby gave him another baby glower, and then she and Elias were hurling upwards to pry again on the stubborn transom again. They gave a couple of ineffectual tugs.
But then there was a third set of little hands on the transom. They belonged to a larger angel with a fine set of red-gold wings that matched his curly hair.
They gave a mighty heave.
Freedom!
"Well, I'll be damned!" said Raziel, grabbing up am extremely sticky Abigail. "Angel baby pie!"
It definitely looked that way: on the table just outside the nursery room door sat the hollowed out remains of what had once been a pie, and three extremely sticky angelic infants.
"Strawberry rhubarb. It always works for his father," Ganesh told her, raising a critical eyebrow at his filling-encrusted son.
"Do you have a tissue?" Raziel asked.
Ganesh pulled a tissue from his pocket, and Raziel, using the universal Mom solvent (i.e., spit) attempted to make a clean spot on her own son's wings. "Hmm. Looks red-blond."
"Isn't that a bit of an unusual coloring?"
"Yeah. He'll be a heartbreaker. When he isn't gooey."
"Shall we get them to the sink?"
"Ah, no. It's sunny today. I'll just put on a swimsuit and get some buckets. It's how we do the wolves."
Ganesh grinned. "You really ought write a book on modern parenting methodology, Lady Raziel."
"Well, I'll be damned. So you are a red headed angel!" Wotan marveled as his son gleefully hovered overhead.
"What the fuck are you guys supposed to be doing?" Sariel demanded.
"We're letting their little wings dry in the sun'" Raziel told him, as the three infants flew overhead and giggled.
"Really? 'Cause you look a whole helluva lot like you guys are sunbathing and reading Vogue."
"Hey, we cleaned off your kid after he got sticky!" Raziel protested, sipping on her tiki drink.
"Uh-huh. And how exactly did my kid get sticky?"
"Eh. You know how kids are."
"Come on, Sariel!" Wotan urged, clapping him on the shoulder. "My son has wings! This calls for a cigar, wouldn't you say?"
"Wotan. You realize you're now living with THREE angels?"
"Yes, there's going to be no end to the mischief!" the king laughed as they headed for his humidor.
"Or the sticky," Sariel noted as the door slammed behind him.
"Sariel seems in a bit of a mood today," Raziel told Ganesh.
"Well. Then probably oughtn't tell him the infants ate all our pie," he grinned just as Liam's large baby bottom landed in the center of his Vogue.
"Eh, he'd only get goo in his wings," Raziel laughed. Ganesh reached out to tickle Liam, who screamed and flew away laughing. "Goofy kid!" Raziel told him. "We'll send you to the goofy baby farm!"
"So," inquired Ganesh, "is this a different institution than the lazy baby farm? Or perhaps an affiliate?"
"Oh, no, completely separate."
"Well. That's good information to have."
"Yeah. I should write a book," Raziel noted.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Angel baby madness again
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing
Notes: In case you were wondering....
"You know, it is quite possible, Lady Raziel, that Liam simply will not manifest a winged Form."
"Oh, he's got wings. He's just too lazy to show them. Aren't you?" Lady Raziel addressed her child, who sat, merrily sticking his tongue out at her as if in reply. "We'll send you to the Lazy Baby Farm, that's what we'll do!" she averred, as the lazy infant in question sat merrily giggling.
"You do realize, don't you, that there exists no such destination as a lazy baby farm?" Ganesh politely inquired, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck.
"Well, he's a baby, so he's too silly to know that," Raziel explained. "I still think he's gonna manifest. We just have to find a motivation."
"I may just have an idea in that regard...." Ganesh told her.
They exited the room, closing the door behind them, and leaving three angelic babies to their own devices.
"Wrlaaaaaa!" called out Elias, who tended to be a ringleader at these sorts of things.
Baby Abby responded by popping little dark wings out of the convenient wing holes her Mommy now insisted be included on her onesies. She was wearing a particularly awesome outfit today: it appeared as if she was playing a tiny Gibson Flying V complete with a baby-sized guitar strap. It had been a gift from Unky Toki, probably intended, as much as anything, to annoy Unky Skwisgaar, who only muttered about how "dat ams craps guitars."
"Braggle?" Abby inquired of her brother, who promptly stretched, rolled over, and dozed off, much like a very tiny beached whale. Abby frowned, extended her wings, lowered her mass, and flew over to where Elias was perched on a table, his silvery-tipped wings fluttering like a mad bumblebee. After a moment's consultation, the two mobile children made for the nursery window, which, despite much pulling at handles with chubby little fingers and babbled spells, remained stubbornly closed.
The children headed back to sit on the table, seemingly mocked by the pretty spring sun, easily visible outside. Abby huffed, but then pointed to the nursery door. It was firmly shut, but there was a transom window, propped open a few inches, over the door. The children, fixing looks of determination, barreled towards it. As if by signal (in fact, quite by signal, as they were babbling in Baby Angelic), each gripped the lip of the transom and gave a mighty tug....
They crashed to the floor with a very amusing, if painful, splat. They both soon rose, flapping and furious.
Liam, who had been roused by the sound, was giggling furiously. "Frrabble," Abby told him, which only made him grin. He yawned and drifted back tom sleep.
Elias had fluttered back to the top of the door, where he nosed around for a bit. Then he actually peered through the window glass, and dive-bombed down to where Abby was still looking baby daggers at her brother.
They gabbled, and both flew back to look through the window to what lay outside. They looked at each other. A plan appeared to form.
"Eeeeeeeaarggh!" squealed Liam. He had been napping peacefully when two sets of chubby hands had gripped him under his own flabby little arms and he found himself pulled worryingly skyward. Abby and Elias now had him hovering by the transom window, both beating wings furiously, as Liam was, even at this tender age, already the biggest by far of the three. His abductors babbled and pointed to the window,
He looked, catching a tantalizing glance of what lay outside his terrible nursery prison.
And then they were all three on the ground, Abby and Elias huffing and puffing with the considerable effort.
Liam looked up.
It seemed a very long way. It was maybe the tallest door in the whole world.
He looked at them sadly. It was just so far up.
"Glaaarb," he said apologetically.
Abby gave him another baby glower, and then she and Elias were hurling upwards to pry again on the stubborn transom again. They gave a couple of ineffectual tugs.
But then there was a third set of little hands on the transom. They belonged to a larger angel with a fine set of red-gold wings that matched his curly hair.
They gave a mighty heave.
Freedom!
"Well, I'll be damned!" said Raziel, grabbing up am extremely sticky Abigail. "Angel baby pie!"
It definitely looked that way: on the table just outside the nursery room door sat the hollowed out remains of what had once been a pie, and three extremely sticky angelic infants.
"Strawberry rhubarb. It always works for his father," Ganesh told her, raising a critical eyebrow at his filling-encrusted son.
"Do you have a tissue?" Raziel asked.
Ganesh pulled a tissue from his pocket, and Raziel, using the universal Mom solvent (i.e., spit) attempted to make a clean spot on her own son's wings. "Hmm. Looks red-blond."
"Isn't that a bit of an unusual coloring?"
"Yeah. He'll be a heartbreaker. When he isn't gooey."
"Shall we get them to the sink?"
"Ah, no. It's sunny today. I'll just put on a swimsuit and get some buckets. It's how we do the wolves."
Ganesh grinned. "You really ought write a book on modern parenting methodology, Lady Raziel."
"Well, I'll be damned. So you are a red headed angel!" Wotan marveled as his son gleefully hovered overhead.
"What the fuck are you guys supposed to be doing?" Sariel demanded.
"We're letting their little wings dry in the sun'" Raziel told him, as the three infants flew overhead and giggled.
"Really? 'Cause you look a whole helluva lot like you guys are sunbathing and reading Vogue."
"Hey, we cleaned off your kid after he got sticky!" Raziel protested, sipping on her tiki drink.
"Uh-huh. And how exactly did my kid get sticky?"
"Eh. You know how kids are."
"Come on, Sariel!" Wotan urged, clapping him on the shoulder. "My son has wings! This calls for a cigar, wouldn't you say?"
"Wotan. You realize you're now living with THREE angels?"
"Yes, there's going to be no end to the mischief!" the king laughed as they headed for his humidor.
"Or the sticky," Sariel noted as the door slammed behind him.
"Sariel seems in a bit of a mood today," Raziel told Ganesh.
"Well. Then probably oughtn't tell him the infants ate all our pie," he grinned just as Liam's large baby bottom landed in the center of his Vogue.
"Eh, he'd only get goo in his wings," Raziel laughed. Ganesh reached out to tickle Liam, who screamed and flew away laughing. "Goofy kid!" Raziel told him. "We'll send you to the goofy baby farm!"
"So," inquired Ganesh, "is this a different institution than the lazy baby farm? Or perhaps an affiliate?"
"Oh, no, completely separate."
"Well. That's good information to have."
"Yeah. I should write a book," Raziel noted.
