#tacomarsh

[numberonetacostan]

I wanted to ask what ships you have other than Tacomic (& Tacopad but that doesn't really work here)

It was about fankids since I was kinda curious which ships you'd think would tell them about being made by Mephone4 and all of the deletion stuff and just the past in general.

If this is an okay question yk? Since you might not want to use fankids (this isn't being explained well) or anything (and some parings I can see just not having kids or how they do is another question)

But my main question is which ships would tell any kids they had post-canon about everything that happened before, especially that they're not technically real.

Hello there!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in your question!!!! :) This is a perfectly okay question to ask, no worries!!!! :D The only asks I will not answer are sexually explicit ones. I don't tend to make fan kids on my own, but I don't mind them at all!! They're very fun.

As for the characters not technically being real, I have to say that I disagree with that notion entirely. It gets rather philosophical to have his whole discussion, but whether or not they were created by Mephone or born normally or whatever, they still have real feelings and real experiences, which I think is enough to deem them as real people, regardless of the circumstances of their birth. Like that one Mewtwo quote.

Okay here are all my Taco ships and how they would tell their theoretical child(ren) about being made by Mephone.

Tacomic (obviously): I see these two as more of a pair of wine aunts than a couple with children of their own, but they'd probably be pretty honest with it to their kid. If the child were to ask about their parents/extended families they'd tell them that they don't have any because they were born a different way. simple as that. They could go more into depth when the kid was older but they wouldn't hide it.

Tacopad (I'm still including it bc i love them): They'd also be pretty honest to their theoretical children. I mean, Mepad wasn't...organically born either, or however objects reproduce, so they could just say that they were both created by separate people, but those people aren't really their family.

Tacocase (I think they're cute): They'd be more gentle about it, giving more ambiguous answers until the theoretical child is older and they can give them the entire story at once.

Tacocandle (rarepairing time): Candle would give a full philosophical discussion on the meaning of life and reality, and Taco would let her speak. They run through that they'd been made by Mephone, and then Candle would continue her philosophical discussion to help their theoretical kids understand that they're just as real as anyone else.

Tacomarsh (ii show haters yuri <3): They would speak of the show in a very derogatory manner, but tell their child when they're on the older side. It would be a bit of an awkward conversation with their kid but they'd get it after one or two tries.

Tacopep (gay new relationship needers): Probably the most casual about it, they'd be honest with their kid from a pretty young age that they were made by Mephone, but be very clear that they're not defined by his plan for them and that they as well as their theoretical child can be whatever they want.

Tacobox (taco did not play with box's corpse so box would automatically like her more than most of the cast. bonding ensues.): Taco would do more of the explaining since Box wasn't there for most of everything, but I see them also being pretty honest about it. I know I've said honesty for a lot of pairs which isn't Taco's forte but keep in mind that this is years post-canon, she'll have changed a lot and also have her partner to help her, yeah?

[steeltwigz]

tacomarsh fic wip inspired by uhhhhh. that one by sage SORRY SORRY i forgot the title... :( 1700 words, give or take. not proofread.

Throbbing pain was the first thing Taco felt as she woke up, slowly, groggily. A headache. Perfect. It was the kind that rose through her sinuses, up into her forehead, beating against her skull like a death march. She was sick. She was definitely sick. It was the last thing she needed, considering how the mansion was still only half-built, most rooms in the west wing being more akin to the skeletal ribcage of some wooden titan than a home. It must have been the cold, Tco figured. Or all the sawdust that seemed to float permanently though the air. She took a long sigh, rubbing her eyes and scowling distastefully at the scent of wood shavings. Then she caught something- something in the air, warm and sweet- breakfast. Taco’s stomach growled suddenly, despite herself. She usually wasn’t around when the others all ate together, preferring to wait for the others to have their fill or take her portion back to some isolated corner of the yard and eat it while sitting on the floor like some cryptid. She wasn’t used to being near so many people still, and especially not when most of them didn’t even know what manners were, much less how to exercise them. Her stomach growled again and she ruefully wrapped her arms around herself. Still, she listened closely, letting some time pass. Beside the distant sound of someone, presumably Marshmallow, alone in the kitchen, the house was still. No one else had woken up yet. Taco glanced around her sleeping quarters- the recently constructed library. From the far corner of the room, shielded from view by Microphone and Soap, she had a pretty good vantage point of the full area. The shelves were barren, mostly holding tools and extra pillows. Nothing was out of place, and no one had moved. She took her chance and rose, dropping her blanket by her side and onto a softly-snoring Mic, carefully stepping around sleeping forms until she was able to slip seamlessly out into the hall. 

The first thing that hit her was a sudden rush of cool air. Even in the morning, the mansion was dreadfully cold, somehow trapping even the smallest breeze in it’s walls and holding the chill for hours beyond its intended lifespan. Most contestants complained, not that Marshmallow could really do anything about it. Taco grit her teeth. The disrespect was agonizing, what did they want Marshmallow to do about it? She couldn’t instantly build a new wall, and she was already strung up enough as it was, what with cooking for everyone, sketching out floor-plans, giving out tasks and making sure everyone had somewhere to sleep. And the mansion floor was still leagues better than the forest. The blankets were old and cheap, but warm, especially with having to share a few rooms between the whole group. She shook her head- it wasn’t her problem. And it wasn’t like Marshmallow didn’t stand up for herself, and her… roommates certainly didn’t hesitate to jump in to protect her either. She wrapped her arms around herself, rounding the main staircase and stepping into the kitchen tucked just behind it. It was one of the first rooms they had rebuilt, so they could at least have warmth and food, and stuck out of the rest of the unfinished home like a beacon. The warmth beckoned to Taco now that she was close enough to feel it, and she pushed through the door silently. Marsh turned slightly but continued her work. She was frying something on the stove and from the smell Taco could tell it was probably pancakes. Marsh hummed. 

“Good morning,” She said, voice soft and light and adoring. Taco pulled out a chair at the small bar, heart leaping for a moment and the unexpected softness- Marsh hadn’t- She couldn’t- Oh. Right... Apple or Bow were always the first ones up, weren’t they? Taco cleared her throat and Marsh jumped a bit, turning fully to face Taco now. She blushed slightly, but smiled all the same. “Oh! Taco, good morning,” her voice dropped into its usual tone, though to be fair it wasn’t much different. Kind of tired, with a forced sweetness Marsh had adapted to keep the peace, before she inevitably kicked everyone out once the mansion was finally itself again. Not that Taco blamed her, she didn’t exactly enjoy the thought of having to live with everyone else either. Still, it left a lingering feeling in her, something painful that she couldn’t quite grasp. She swallowed it down and hummed. 

“Good morning,” She replied. Her voice was low and coarse, from sleepiness or sickness she couldn’t tell. 

“You’re up early,” Marsh said. Her voice was still soft, as if she was afraid of waking anyone else. Taco liked it. It made the moment feel dreamy and personal. She scoffed. 

“Yes, I know, you’re just delighted to see me.” 

Marsh’s shoulders hunched, and she glanced up at the ceiling briefly. It was so cartoonish Taco couldn’t help but smirk. Marsh turned around. “I didn’t mean it like-” She stopped, and shut her mouth with a click. Her eyebrows narrowed and she squinted at Taco. “You look like death.” She said. Taco rolled her eyes. She was sicker than she thought. Great. Her head throbbed again and she adjusted herself, holding her head up slightly. She had her pride to think of, dammit! 

“And I suppose you would be the expert, wouldn’t you?” She leaned her head on her knuckles, propped up by her elbow on the tabletop. Marsh rolled her eyes visibly this time, but snorted all the same. 

“Oh, har har. Just for that you get the burnt ones.” She said, turning back to the stove. She flipped a pancake in the air gracefully, and Taco watched its arc, mouth watering. Her stomach growled again and she huffed, turning her face away. 

“Fine by me…” 

Marsh looked over her shoulder, then sighed softly and pushed a bowl of fruits in front of Taco. She reached into the fridge and pulled out a glass of water, placing that next to the bowl, then turning nonchalantly back to the stove. Taco’s chest fluttered and she took the glass, muttering a quick, awkward “Thanks, dear,” before taking a sip. 

“Don’t mention it,” Marsh said, still facing the stove. Taco hummed, popping a few berries in her mouth. They were a bit tart if she was being honest, but they exploded in her mouth satisfyingly and she had to restrain herself from scarfing the rest down like a hungry wolf. They coexisted in silence, the only noise pancakes sizzling and Taco occasionally placing the glass on the table. Taco traced the lip of the glass with her finger, lost in thought. She inhaled softly after a moment, and Marsh turned slightly to acknowledge her. 

“Is it…usually like this? Peaceful, serene…” 

Marsh’s shoulders twitched and she inhaled, then huffed a laugh. “Oh, barely.” She said, voice amused and lilted with care and admiration. She fidgeted with the pan handle and sighed. “But it’s nice. It’s really, really nice.” Her voice trailed off wistfully. She turned then, facing Taco, and nodded slightly. “So uh- thanks. For helping rebuild. I know it probably seems silly to the rest of you, especially since none of you really know this place when it’s…” She waved her hand in the air, extrapolating. She pursed her lips, then sighed, failing. “Normal,” she settled on. Taco understood what she meant anyway. “But it really is my home. This place means the world to me, and even if our histories are… mixed up, there is nothing I could do to show just how much I appreciate you all for this.” She smiled at Taco, small and genuine. Taco noticed that her cheeks dimpled and felt herself flush, turning away at the sheer breadth of Marsh’s admission. She shrugged her shoulder, leaning back to assume some kind of cool exterior. 

“Don’t mention it…” She muttered. 

“Oh! But I guess maybe this could help.” She moved to throw open random cabinets, digging through jars and random boxes, before pulling out a small pill bottle and shaking one out, placing it in front of Taco. An ibuprofen. Taco sighed dramatically. 

“Yes, thank you!” She popped it into her mouth and swallowed it dry, making Marshmallow’s brows shoot up. 

“Taco!” She said, voice amazed, amused, and horrified. Taco took Marshmallow’s hands into her own and gripped them tightly. 

“Thank youuuu…” She said. Marsh flushed, then snorted before full out laughing. It made Taco’s head pound again, but her heart soared and she watched attentively. 

“Okay, okay! I get it, seriously! If you need help, you can just ask. It’s nothing. I don’t mind.” 

Taco swallowed and turned away. She let Marsh’s hands go, and waved her own nonchalantly. “Oh, please. You’re the one who needs help here! This place is… is apocalyptic!” 

Marsh squeaked. It made Taco turn, right as Marsh’s cheeks started to get flushed. Embarrassed? Shit… Taco hadn’t meant to offend her! Marsh just covered her cheek with her hand and rolled her eyes, swatting the air with her other hand. 

“Oh, please, it’s not that bad.” 

Taco snorted. Not one to know when to quit, she doubled-down only slightly sweating. “Darling, please. Delusions aside, this place is catastrophic! It’s a miracle we even have a working kitchen and electricity.” 

Marsh huffed and turned away, now properly offended, Taco guessed. Even still, she was blushing and Taco admired the way it looked, despite guilt fighting her. This was how it was supposed to be- admiring from the sidelines, but never in the picture! It was familiar. The thought was a little comforting, at least. A plate slid in front of her, breaking her out of her thoughts. It was a stack of pancakes, one slightly charred, but the others perfectly cooked. Marsh huffed anyways. 

“Told you! Burnt. Just for you. Hah.” 

Taco couldn’t help but smile and snort, rolling her eyes. “Okay, yes, burnt. Woe is me. I should have learned my lesson… Drats.” 

Marshmallow nodded and sat down on a stool across from Taco. They sat in silence, Marsh stealing a few leftover berries as Taco ate her pancakes. The burnt part wasn’t even that bad, thought she didn’t tell Marshmallow. She hummed in satisfaction, swallowing.