The whole gang was invited to the party. That meant snuggle-buddies were included, and some baby-mommas came too because -hey- free food. The new family seemed to just roll with it and rent a hall, throwing the doors open to anyone who was hungry.

Neosemo hadn’t been born yet, when the Story and Song flooded the world, but he’d seen enough penny plays. He knew enough to know that the Birds were formidable, loaded, and dangerous to rile.

The penny players always picked skinny actors to play the Twins, and put shining yellow wigs on with the red robes. Therefore, Neosemo didn’t expect the upholstered forms nor the bright colours they wore. Yet, they were unmistakable.

Hair like gold. Mismatched eyes of amber and green. A casual disregard for how many spell slots they had was a definite giveaway.

Neosemo was nervous about approaching them. They should have been in red robes. They should have been something more than everyone else. Yet, there they were. Laughing and joking and bustling about with trestle tables and foodstuffs. Taako from TV, who had faced down -and then married- the Grim Reaper had no business wearing a Kiss the Cook apron nor cracking what had to be a terribly filthy joke.

“…didn’t do that when I tried it,” was the punchline. Several people around the immediate area were turning red. One was laughing so hard that he was drooling.

Neosemo loaded up a plate with offerings that were already crowding the table, licking sauce off his fingers.

Taako - it had to be Taako. He was the one with the apron and the slightly duller hair than his sister. Taako turned and gasped. “Angus Taacoson McDonald… how dare you. You can’t even wait to make your own, you had to adopt?”

Neosemo stuffed his face before anyone could chuck him out.

“You’re the one throwing the family welcome party, Papa,” said Professor McDonald. “Also - you know how Uncle Irma can change a life.”

“More than one,” said Taako. “Teenaged grand-baby. I’m barely two hundred! I’m too young to be the grandfather of a teenager. I’m old before my time! Old before my time…” He struck a pose. Three poses. Languishing for want of an audience.

“You still don’t look a day over a hundred and sixty to me,” said a dark-hued man in dark-hued clothes with silver ornaments in his hair. That had to be Kravitz.

“Flirt,” chided Taako. He put down a dish of things that Neosemo wasn’t able to identify. “Okay. You’re new to the family, kiddo. This kind of thing is normal for us. C’mere. Come to Grampa Taako. Gods, I can’t believe I just said that…”

Neosemo shuffled nervously closer to one of the most powerful wizards in the twelve planes. He was aware that he had his mouth full, and sauce dribbling down his chin, and one hand full of plate, and the other filthy with sauce and food.

He fully expected this literal living legend to tear him down atom by atom. Which was why it was such a surprise to have Taako from TV sweep him up in his arms. “Welcome to the family, kiddo! You and your friends might just give me a challenge for a change.”

Professor McDonald had wet wipes. So did Taako. They both had spare utensils for Neosemo to use. They both introduced him to more family than he could remember, let alone think plausible.

The full-blood Orc who proclaimed herself to be his Aunty Killian, wrapped him up in a bone-crushing hug and told him that she could help him build up his muscles if he ever got tired of living like a wimpy, weedy Elf.

The human with the greying sideburns offered him a dog, and told him that he was Uncle Magnus.

Instant family. Just add Starblaster.

The doughy human with the horn rim spectacles and the perpetual blue jeans had to be the Barry Bluejeans of legend. He sort of sat beside Neosemo and said, “You don’t have to be what anyone else wants you to be. We can all help you in whatever you want, wherever you want to go. Education, work, a career somewhere… we got your back. Just… remember. You gotta be true to yourself or your dreams will never come true.”

He had heard people making plans for him before. People wanting to help him by getting his tusks removed. People wanting to help him by putting him into some institution designed to pump out perfect, cookie-cutter kids. People wanting to help him be what he wasn’t.

These people were just giving him offers. If you want to… not We want you to… Just one of the many differences that made the Starblaster family what it was. And better - they were just as welcoming to Neosemo’s street family. Letting them know that there were plenty of rooms in the farmhouse, if they wanted to help out, they could live there.

Angus caught up with him as the party was winding down to people lounging around with drinks in hand. “You look like you’re thinking some deep thoughts, there.”

“Old Maisy used to look after a bunch of kids when I was little. She was always coming up with these weird old sayings,” he said. “She said, home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”

“Interesting choice of wise words,” allowed Angus.

“I was just thinking… Home is where they welcome you in, whether they have to or not.” He looked out over the motley crew, where Tuff Jari was learning how to ride a deer under the guidance of two Elves and a guy who looked like he’d never exercised in his life. “This feels like it’s gonna be a great home.”

[TAZ prompts remaining: 8]

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Twelve years, give or take. All alone. Without any real senses. Without touch. Without feeling. Twelve years of being emotions and memory and trapped in a curtained hell. Air burned her lungs when she took her first breath in a decade. Weight pulled her down. She was heavy. The slimy goo was heavy. The robe was heavy and the warmth of it was as unfamiliar as the cold of the goo.

Barry had done this time and time again during the time she was trapped. Tirelessly swapping from lich to body and taking risk after risk to try and find her. He was used to this. More or less. He knew that she didn’t need or want a hand grasping her arm to help her up. He knew that that would be too much on skin that was technically mere minutes old.

He had a mirror so she could see that she’d come out right. With the right junk and all. That had been a major worry for her, while her body had been growing. Even though she could see the progress, it had still been a big terror.

She defused that anxiety with humour. “Man, I forgot how good I look.”

Barry smiled, as he always smiled. So dopey in love with her that it almost oozed from every pore.

“I’m about to smooch your fucking brains out, babe.” Of all the things she missed most, two were at the top of her list. Barry’s kisses and cuddle-puddles with her twin brother. Taako was too much into a freak-out to watch her emerge in the flesh and had elected to stay at the moon base, wrapped around his boyfriend for comfort.

Barry felt so warm against her. His hands were so rough - when had that happened? No. It wasn’t him. It was her. Skin. Organs. Even her hair was brand new. Minutes old. She had a newborn’s sensitivity to the world in an adult body that came replete with a lifetime’s worth of scars.

She had to remind herself that Barry’s skin wasn’t rough. It was her hands that were new. That the touch she had craved wasn’t the sensory explosion that she felt it as. That she didn’t need to be afraid of it.

Barry held her close as she hyperventilated, so very gently. “You can cry,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I cried the first time, too.”

She instantly had the mental image of the man she’d loved -discreetly and not so discreetly- for a hundred years, coming out of a tank like that, and onto a rough floor. All alone, with few memories, and nobody to help him. That was all she needed to tip herself over the edge.

She had spent decades of her life hiding her feelings. Putting up a wall between herself and beings who could hurt her or her brother. All she needed was permission from one of the few she could trust completely, and the concept that he had been hurt.

Lup cried like a child. Let Barry take her to a soft cot full of fluffy pillows and blankets and each other. Let herself cling and howl until the weariness of it took her down into lassitude. Let herself be looked after. Barry wiping away at tears and snot and drool. Barry gently kissing her, caressing her. Comforting her. Let herself run dry. Let herself sigh.

She finally said, “Do I have to start with baby food?”

Barry laughed. “Comfort food,” he said. “The easy stuff. You can work your way back up to wow-wow sauce.”

Breathing was okay, now. Touch was okay, now. Which was a good thing, because, “Taako’s gonna want to hug the stuffing out of me.”

“Don’t blame him,” said Barry. “I can take you there express if you want.”

She could stand, now. She could stand to stand without the feeling of the world pulling her down. Without the feeling of her clothes wanting to drag her through the centre of the globe. She could stand to feel bare earth on her feet. “I think I’m ready.”

She wasn’t ready.

Not for seeing Taako with his glamour off, red-eyed from crying and frizzy-haired from worrying. Not for seeing him so vulnerable with her own eyes. Not for hearing that little shriek of relief. Definitely not for the impact of a brother who had only recently realised what had been missing from his life for twelve horrible and long years.

Lup was definitely not prepared for that shuddering intake of his breath that meant that he was about to start bawling his eyes out. He had a death-grip cling to her. Just like she had to him. His scent was all she needed to know that she was home.

She said, “I missed you so much.”

Taako said, “I wish I had,” and then the tears fountained out of both of them.

They finished up kneeling and leaning into a huge Fantasy Beanbag, their spouses cuddled around them, and only the fairy lights to give their living room some shape.

Her voice trembled as she said, “That was more emotional than it had to be.”

Taako sniffled. “Got’cha a comfort food feast with add-your-own spices,” he offered. “I wanna watch you work your way up.”

“Sadist,” she laughed. “I’m gonna eat ‘till I creak and fall asleep with all of you around me.”

“Bold of you to assume we could let you go,” said Taako and Barry together.

Gods, it was good to be back in the flesh.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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For the first time in a long time, Angus McDonald felt safe. Nobody around him was judging him, or at least not judging him harder than the word ‘nerd’. That was just a word and wouldn’t cause anyone using it to hurt him. Nobody telling him everything he’d done wrong and never telling him what he’d done right. In fact, his time in the Bureau had been -he had to be honest- the best time of his life.

Cracking mysteries, doing the good he wanted to see in the world, being praised for his deeds, following independent studies on topics and skills that interested him and not pursuing the ones that his parents insisted on. The food was great. The people were friendly, for the most part.

Magnus kept pulling mean goofs, but Taako was actually trying to be a better person about Angus’ presence.

And now, there was Moving Scroll Nite. One of his favourites - Fantasy Labyrinth. He got to sit between Taako and Madam Director, two people he secretly wished were his actual parents. They were way more helpful about improvements on his business than his actual parents were.

In the middle of Fantasy David Bowie’s introduction, when the Goblin King was flipping crystal spheres around, IT started to happen. A rumbling vibration started deep in his chest. His parents had never liked that happening.

Angus cleared his throat, desperately running through the horrible things that stopped IT short. Grampa’s death day. Something horrible happening to his actual parents. His birth mother’s disdain in regards to his existence and the only words she ever said to him: “You should have died already.”

It was only when he imagined something horrible happening to Taako that his growing thunder instantly toned down to a subtle stutter. Inaudible to everyone around him. All he had to do was keep that image in the back of his mind and nobody would say anything rude.

Taako pressed the back of his hand to Angus’ brow. “You okay, little man?” he whispered.

Angus lied like a rug. “Just peachy, sir. If you don’t mind, I’d like to enjoy the movie, please.”

Madam Director leaned back in her seat and started making signs in the air with her fingers. ESL[1], but Angus didn’t pay much attention to it beyond that. He could pretend that they were plotting to throw him out of the Bureau if it helped keep IT down to imperceptible levels.

Taako and Madam Director were having a covert conversation literally behind his back. Good. Less cause for that thing to happen at all.

When Sara was lost in the stone part of the maze, and little goblins were messing up her marks, Madam Director put her hand to Angus’ forehead. Then gentle fingers to his neck. He deflected her hands when they approached his chest.

More signing happened. Angus scooted forwards and kept the fury in his mind so that he wouldn’t get any louder. Not that it had much reason to come out, any more. At least they left him alone for the rest of the movie.

*

“You remind me of the babe,” said Fantasy David Bowie as the owl flew off in the moonlight and the credits started to roll. Most of the audience began shuffling out, but Taako and Madam Director stayed behind. Eyes centred on Angus.

They all waited together, until Taako, Madam Director, and himself were the only people left in the Fantasy Theatre. Angus folded his arms and refused to start the conversation.

“So,” said Taako. “Who was the asshole who got on your case for purring?”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. “MY PARENTS AREN’T ASSHOLES! THEY’RE TRYING TO RAISE ME RIGHT! I’m the one who’s messing up. Every day.”

Taako reached out and tucked some of Angus’ curls behind his pointed ear. “No Elf would teach you that purring is wrong…”

“Angus… purring is a perfectly natural reaction to stimuli. It’s part of proper communication, proper emoting… withholding it is… it’s worse than teaching a left-handed person to only write with their right hand. It causes horrible and lingering emotional scars.”

“If you don’t wanna talk about it,” said Taako.

He could do this. Angus took a deep breath. “My birth mother left me with Father, and then he re-married. They’ve been making sure I grow up right.”

“Both humans?” said Madam Director. She’d seen how Angus hid the points of his ears in his hair.

Angus could only nod.

“Humanmen,” muttered Taako. He tutted. “Sure they were trying their best, but Elves need to purr, kiddo. You. Me. That nerdy library nook you like to live in. Elf Practice. Tomorrow.”

“I’ll arrange a counsellor to help with the -uh- emotional side of things,” said Madam Director. “Would you feel more comfortable talking to a man or a woman?”

Angus couldn’t dredge words out of his mouth. He shrugged. He couldn’t look at either of them.

“I’ll find a good match,” said Madam Director. She finally got up and left. So did Taako.

*

Taako was sprawled in Angus’ favourite book nook and seemingly half asleep. He opened an eye upon Angus’ approach. He yawned and stretched and sat up. “Morning,” he said. “I don’t get up this early for just anyone, so gratitude should be a thing.”

“Uh. I-I-I’m not– I dunno– Maybe– This isn’t the greatest idea?”

“Says who?” Taako pointed out a pillow in a sunbeam. “Sit. Right there.”

Only the concept that his parents would freak out about this had him hesitating. Sunbeams were so nice…

“Go on. It won’t bite.”

Well… he could easily get his teenage rebellion phase started early… Angus sidled into the sunbeam and hummed a little in delight at the warmth. The next thing he knew, there was a small plate of fat little cakes with walnut halves on top of them. They were drizzled with honey and glistening like a forbidden treasure.

“Elven sweet curd cakes. Try one,” said Taako. “I checked. You’re not allergic to walnuts or anything else in there.”

Angus gingerly picked one up and tried a bite. Just the right balance of sweet, gooey, chewy, and a little zing of bitterness to stop it being cloying. This was even better than the macarons. He was licking his fingers clean in seeming seconds.

“There’s more. Feel free.” Taako had somehow produced a hot chocolate from nowhere. Prepared just the way Angus liked it with the dusting of candied honey crystals and cinnamon on the cream.

He could feel IT start to happen.

Taako booped his nose. “Uh-uh, kiddo. Let it out. You’re part Elf. Own it.”

THRRRMMMMBLPT… He flinched out of instinct. His parents weren’t here. His parents couldn’t know. They’d never hear about this unless they heard him purr.

“That’s it,” cooed Taako. “It’s okay, now.”

Another cake. A swig of the world’s most perfect hot chocolate. The sunbeam and the comfort and the deliciousness all got to him.

ThrummmblerumblerumbleRUMBLERUMBLERUMBLErumblerumblepurrrrrr…

Taako lunged into a hug, and Angus could feel his chest vibrating in a matching purr. “There’s my beautiful magic boy,” he said. “You got this, champ.”

Angus’ next purr was so loud that the nearby window shook with it.

Taako was impressed. “Damn, son. You got yourself one hell of an engine in there.” He directed Angus to lean into the sunbeam and sort of curled around nearby so he, too, could snack on an Elven sweet curd cake. “Perfect. We’ll lounge around in comfort and safety and practice purring together.”

Angus’ voice vibrated with his ‘engine’. “How long, sir?”

“…’till I wake up again,” Taako yawned, got himself comfortable, and apparently fell asleep. Purring the whole time.

Angus ate another cake. Elf Practice was looking pretty excellent so far.

[1] Elven Sign Language.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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Taako had allegedly been teaching Angus survival skills. So far, that sort of training had involved waking up in the middle of nowhere with Taako lounging artfully on some landscape and the greeting, “Surprise, little man. Any thoughts on how to survive this one?”

Angus was getting used to it. He had set every possible alarm on his sleeping quarters, but still Taako managed to pick him out of bed, stuff him into a sleeping bag with some bare essentials, and take him off the moon and into a random wilderness. The only irritating thing at this point was that this was the third time in as many weeks.

Angus had had to admit it was effective. Taako would hang around and supply information whenever Angus stumbled. The basic rules had already been covered. Survival skills like the priorities of water, shelter, and food. Where the best places to locate all three could be. What perils to watch out for in which terrains, how to be prepared to escape them.

Never how to be prepared to beat them. These were survival lessons. Taako taught him survival. How to live another day. Getting strong enough to beat the heavy hitters involved living that long.

So far, this trip had been more pleasant than most. Fishing in the local stream, cooking over a campfire, running survival checks to forage for foodstuffs. Angus thought he was doing rather well, until he brought a handful of elderberries to his mouth.

“NO!” Taako screamed like he was watching his mother being murdered.

Angus dropped them out of reflex, but Taako was already on him, checking in his mouth, feeling him over, temperature and pulse, glaring into his eyes.

Taako was talking very quickly. “Nightshade looks like elderberries. Never eat ‘em if you can’t be sure. Watch out for sweats, light sensitivity, a high heart rate. Nausea. D’you feel nausea, kiddo? Any kind’a sick? Feel like y’r insides wanna become outsides?”

“I’m fine, sir, I didn’t even eat one.”

Prestidigitation to create a palm-sized glowing globe. It wavered back and forth in front of Angus’ eyes. Close and then further away. He kept this up for five whole minutes.

“Damn it, why’re your eyes so dark? Why’d I have t’ leave my Stone on the moon? You feeling any dryness in your mouth, sweetheart? Palpitations? Any need at all to throw up or take a dump?”

Taako’s pupils were paper-thin slits, even in the gloom of early evening. His pulse was jumping, his breath quickening. His ears lowered and his hair thickened as it curled with stress. He was panicking.

“Sir…” Angus held his hand. “I’m not dying, I promise. Let’s take some deep breaths, okay? Breathe with me.” He breathed a little slower than Taako’s panicked panting. Slowing down towards a normal rate as Taako slowed down. “I’m fine, sir. I did not eat any berries.”

“Good thing because those are night…” he trailed off, gaze jinking over all the plant. “Those are actual elderberries. Clusters, not singles. Different leaves… They. They’re… elder…” He pulled Angus close in a rare hug. His heart was pounding. “Better t’ stay away from ‘em, huh? Just in case.”

Taako was trembling, that night, as Angus made dinner. Since they were following the stream down its course, it was fish again. With safer wild herbs for seasoning. His hands shook as he wound his golden hair into its evening braids.

“Are you going to be okay, sir?” Angus asked.

“Watched a lot of people get nightshade poisoning,” his voice trembled, too. “Not pretty.” He crawled into his sleepy sack and Mage Handed the zipper closed. “You remember Hold Person, right?”

“It’s not a cantrip, sir. It’s a Second Level spell.”

“Well, fuck,” muttered Taako. “Not gonna lie, this’ll be a rough one.”

The ears of the ridiculous cartoon dog face on the chest of Taako’s sleepy sack were also restraints for the arms. To stop a person inside from hurting themselves in the middle of their nightmares. Angus had to promise three times to sit on Taako if he tried to escape the camp.

Taako didn’t lie. It was a rough one. Three separate nightmares, one of which had him bawling like a child for someone named Sazed. A different one had Taako thinking Angus was a vengeful ghost. He slept peacefully at the dawn, and Angus let him have the extra rest.

The sunlight finally made him sit up and wake into the real world. “Ugh,” he said, “Fuck. Okay. You’re you. We’re still at a camp, and headed towards civilisation. I’m good. Lemme out of this thing.”

Angus set him free of the sleepy sack. Served a decent breakfast of leftovers and packed up what he could while Taako stretched and picked at his food.

Now the mystery of the Elf’s shadowed eyes and lack of appetite was solved, revealing another riddle underneath. If he had his notebook, he could write the clues down. Pity that wasn’t in his go-bag.

Angus didn’t try to eat any elderberries for the rest of the trip.

[TAZ Prompts remaining: 10]

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“Babies! Gimmie them babies!”

“Grampa!” Agnes cheered.

The twins, Aloicious and Ambrose, squealed and kicked as Taako swept them up on his arms to cover three small foreheads with kisses. “Mama and Papa are pretty silly, giving me all you babies…” he cooed. “We’re gonna have sugar cookies… and all the popcorn you can eat… and watch all the shows that babies should never see…”

“Sir,” sighed Angus.

“I know. I’m less of a pain in the ass when I’m on Luume.” He settled the kids onto a fantasy beanbag, where Neapolitan started grooming Ambrose. The tiny boy giggled.

Aloicious rolled over and started swinging his hand at Neapolitan’s fur. “Ki’y ka’!”

“Smart little nuggets,” said Taako. “Makes me wanna re-check the baby gates on all the ways to the upper floors.”

“On it,” said Agatha. She was pretty fast, but then, having three kids under seven years old had improved her move speed and her dexterity. She could double dash around the entire ground floor, checking every single byway upstairs or downstairs for potential egress.

She had it all done -and had re-enforced some- before Aloicious could clamber off the fantasy bean bag. Agatha was out of breath, but victorious. “Ten outta ten, Grampa. They’d have to work real hard to get to where they’re not supposed to be.”

“I got distractions galore and they love me. We’re gonna be fine.”

The air tore, and Kravitz re-entered the lands of the living. “Grand-babies! Grand-babies! I wanna hug and kiss my grand-babies!”

“Not while you’re chilly, babe,” Taako insisted. “Don’t wanna give the nuggets the chills.”

“So help me warm up,” he flirted.

They kissed.

“GROSS,” complained Agnes.

“One day, you might not mind so much,” Angus deposited the kids’ travel bags and spare pile of nappies. “We plan on only taking four days on this. Tops. Team Sweet Flips has orders to come help after two.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Kravitz. Well. He would know. “Taako and I are going to have four days worth of spoiling these kids absolutely rotten.” As if to prove his point, he produced a handful of individually-wrapped Fantasy Werthers Originals.

Angus glared at him. So did Agatha. The kids, on the other hand, were ecstatic. There was no time to chide them. He and Agatha had to go.

*

Taako chuckled. Let Agnes think he was feeding these kids candy twenty-four sev. That’s what grandparents were for. That’s what he got for making Taako a grandfather. Three times. Before he was even two hundred. Little asshole.

For such a tall humanman, Ango certainly managed to produce some fucking tiny babies. These kids needed some good food to help them grow tall enough to overshadow their beanpole father.

Ha! That would be some revenge. Except for the part where they would be towering over their Grampa. He’d get pissy about that later.

Right now, he needed to make some good food for hungry little hands. The biggest problem was convincing these fussy little nuggets that it was good and not automatically yuck because of the ingredients.

Half was in the presentation. The other half was in the preparation. “Okay, my little nuggets. We’re going to make super-special fish and chips. Grampa and Popop are doing the dangerous stuff. You three get to help out with the super tasty stuff.”

“YAAAY!”

Aglet was already sold. She loved cooking with her grandparents. Krav could help the tiny twins with the stirring and watching and waiting for the timer. They were all up on their kiddie songs.

Taako got the kids to sprinkle salt and herbs on the salmon while Krav peeled and chopped the sweet potato. If they honey-roasted those, then the kids would definitely eat those vegetables. Taako cut the salmon into portions and set them with butter into the hot pans, then tumbled the chipped sweet potato through the honey.

They’d need regular interference to make certain of an even coat. Stirring the sauces - cheese or hollandaise or aioli - would keep the impatient occupied between turns.

Amber liked watching the mist drops on the glass lid of the frypan. He was smart enough not to touch. Aloe was all over the sauces, sometimes muscling his Popop out of the way so he could have his turn.

Aglet crouched by the oven door, watching the chips turn colours or the honey start to bubble. She had the patience of a proper chef. Time would tell if the other two had any such talent. They were two. About all they had the patience for was popcorn and pancakes.

Taako got down his cookbooks with the pictures in them. Readying them for the nuggets. Kids liked meals so much better if they could help make them. Giving them a choice in food always helped that sort of thing along.

Kids loved variety if they didn’t know it was gourmet… though Taako suspected at least one dish would be squid-weenies[1] in tomato sauce.

There would also be more than a few recipes that made a huge mess. It wasn’t a decently distracting kiddie holiday without an enormous mess.

He’d keep these kids so distracted that they wouldn’t want to go back to their parents. Riding deer, catching catfish, taunting the cats, and huge amounts of Fantasy Cartoons. That, and cuddles and food? They were set.

*

When Angus and Agatha returned, little worse for their adventures, it looked like the kitchen had exploded in recent history, but it smelled like something delicious had come out of Taako’s Aga.

The kids and their grandparents were in the largest cote that the house had on the ground floor. Two adults, three kids, five out of seven cats and a solid scattering of stuffed toys were tangled together in the blankets and pillows.

Aloicious still held half of a shaped cookie in one lax hand. Stained glass shortbreads. The worst combination of sugar, flour, mess, and the fun of melting hard candy in the oven.

Grampa sure knew how to keep them both hepped up and busy.

Agatha shared a telepathic look with him. He shrugged and toed off his shoes. they each crawled inside the cote, helped themselves to some leftover stained-glass cookies, and took a well-deserved rest.

There would be plenty of time for kissing babies when they were all awake.

[1] Insert spaghetti strands into cut-up cocktail franks. Boil. Consume with tomato sauce. Give Taako some time, he’ll figure out how to make that gourmet.

[TAZ prompts remaining: 6]

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Everyone knew that the Sellsnows were the luckiest farmers in the realm. At one time, entire families had lived in that gigantic, mountain Ygdrasi tree and the attached burrows in the side of the mountain. They were luckier than having that stronghold, though. The Sellsnows threw to twins. Generation upon generation. Identical more than fraternal. The family portraits were full of double images. Loaded with images of siblings born mere minutes apart.

Everyone knew that twinned Elves were good luck. Gubbroera had merely been hoping for some of that luck to rub off on him. If he worked as a live-in farmhand for the luckiest family that ever lived, perhaps he would stop having such bad luck. So many accidents that laid him up for so long because he was Saryn - one immune to magic and without any of his own.

They said that a deal gone foul with the fae had caused a maiden to choose between her infant and one crafted out of stone. She could not choose and took both home. That stone child may have looked like a child, but it had no magic, nor could magic change them. Thus it was a curse visited among a rare few to be born without any kind of Elven gift.

He hadn’t intended to fall in love with one of Tostaada Sellsnow’s daughters. But then came the accident that had rendered him almost immobile for most of autumn, through all of the winter, and well into the spring.

Memala had kept him company. Soft, gentle, trusting Memala. Who spoke no words of pity about his magic-resistant state. Who had learned medicine and alchemy just to help him recover.

They were young, barely past their hundredth year. Tostaada had forbade the union, telling Memala what a horrible life they would have because he was Saryn. Because he couldn’t be saved with magic from anything that might befall him. Because he could die early and leave any children he had without a father.

Of course, none of this stopped them. They met in secret. They talked big dreams. They stole kisses. They heard about a new, tiny colony town near the mountains, where the raids would never reach. Tre Llew-Ddion. Where there wasn’t nearly enough danger. Where they could have a small cottage just big enough for one family.

When Memala left Sellsnow Farm, her sister and her brothers followed. Each setting up a business and growing a house in that little village. For a while, everything was perfect. Gubbroera and Memala even managed to conceive without the intervention of luume’irma. Always a good sign. Always a good omen.

Gubbroera found work in a manufactory. Applying lacquer to furniture parts. A nice, safe job. Something that couldn’t cause an accident. Because of their impending family, he was paranoid about taking precautions. He even gave up strong liquor, so that he wouldn’t fall because he was stumbling drunk.

The twins were bald as eggs when they were born. Lulu, born at the trailing edge of midsummer, had screamed and screamed until their twin brother, Koko, was returned to Lulu’s tiny hand. Born holding hands. Now there was an omen of good fortune. Koko’s first dawn would be the same as his birthing day. Gubbroera took him out to see it, wrapping a small hand around his finger.

His infant-grey eyes had beheld that sight in the same way babies beheld anything, with grumpy confusion and minor complaining. He kissed his son’s brow and returned him to the infant’s cote with his older twin.

A perfect little family.

They were almost a year old when their hair betrayed something peculiar. He was dark of hair. Memala was dark of hair. By all rights, these twins should be dark of hair; but they weren’t. The fine downy fuzz on their baby heads was golden. Not yellow, not amber, not a pale brown, but the exact colour of spun gold. They gleamed in the sunlight like treasure.

They could not be his.

He went around Tre Llew-Ddion in a homicidal rage. Confronting every man in the village and even the rare traders who stopped by of sleeping with his wife and making these twin bastards on her. It had taken a Stone of Truth at the village court and Memala’s heartfelt testimony to convince him that she was loyal to him.

When they turned two, he had a different answer to why they were they way they were. The twins were witch-eyed. Lulu’s left eye was golden and the other green, while Koko’s were the other way around.

The worst of curses, wrapped inside a blessing. There was only one force that could cause that to happen.

“They’re demons, Memala,” he had whispered. “For the safety of us and everyone in this town, we have to smother them before they can bring curses on us all.”

Memala shrugged away from him, sitting up in their cote. Glaring at him with eyes that shone in the night. “First they’re bastards,” she whispered, “and now you think they’re demons? What do I have to do, Gub? They’re our babies. No curses can come to children who are raised in love.”

“They’re evil,” he whispered. “Evil will follow them.”

She said, “I’m guarding them tonight. I’m setting wards tomorrow. They’re going to grow up, Gub. They’re going to be wonderful little people. They’re going to be amazing.”

“They’re going to be the end of us,” he said.

“Only if you let it.”

Their relationship ended that night, but neither would admit it for two more painful years full of murmured arguments, his heavy drinking, and spiteful words spat at each other like poisoned darts. Memala had never threatened him with violence until they were four.

He walked away. He’d had enough.

He would never see his children again for the rest of his life.

[TAZ Prompts remaining: 7]

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[AN: I did kind’a promise that all these prompted fics would be PG, so…]

There were few things that Kravitz genuinely hated. Hate was a strong word, especially for a man who had once been a Bard in love with the world and in love with love. For centuries, the only one on his list had been the kinds of cults who sacrificed children.

It was only in relatively recent years that he had grown to hate Luume’irma. Taako. Angus. And now there was a tinny little tune coming from Agatha’s wrist.

Fuck.

She was scratching at her clothes and growling. This was looking like a Spare Robe kind of deal. Thanks to Barry and Lup’s Luume shenanigans, he kept a spare as a matter of routine by now. At least Agatha was close to regular.

On the minus side, there were no conveniently hormone-regulating mushrooms in the vicinity.

On the plus side, if there was a kid about to be sacrificed in this latest necromantic cult, then that kid would be the luckiest kid in the world. The necromancers, on the other hand, would die of natural causes.

It was perfectly natural to be shredded apart by a luume-crazed half-elf for threatening a child.

Rrriiiip… Agatha had decided her clothes were too itchy. Right down to her underwear.

Kravitz pulled the robe out and crammed it over her in one smooth move. The robe, crafted in the Astral Plane and made out of woven Night, could not possibly irritate anyone. After that, it was only a matter of helping her arms through the sleeves.

“Want,” she mumbled. “Where?”

Kravitz pointed her in the direction of the ominous chanting. Staying behind her just far enough to be able to pilot her. It didn’t take long for Agatha to classify one individual there as ‘feed’ and everyone else in her field of view as ‘fight’.

The low growl she made was their only warning.

All he had to do was gather up the freshly-ended Necromancers and push them through to the trainees on the other side. That, and help soothe the tiny Gnome now being nursed by a bloodstained half-Elf in a Reaper’s robe.

“No. Ag–” he sighed. Taako might not like this, but it was better than what was happening now. “Here.” He took a sweet cake out of the lunch Taako had packed for him and passed it to Agatha. “Feed the baby this.”

Gnomish children were tiny, and a spot of Prestidigitation made the cake and Agatha’s hands sparkling clean. The cake was enormous in those little hands. Even a baby with just four teeth knew what to do with a sweet cake.

All the crying stopped. Agatha was purring up a storm.

Kravitz took out his Stone of Farspeech. First… inform the new papa. Then, inform the new grampa. There would be hell to pay, of course. But guaranteed, this tiny new Gnome would have a family after all the arguments wore out.

“Baby,” cooed Agatha.

“Yeah,” said Kravitz, dialling up Angus’ frequency. “You got a nice baby.”

[TAZ prompts remaining: 6]

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[AN: (Looks at the two I’ve already written and the one I have planned) (sweats)]

Angus was born close to the day that Lucretia betrayed them. She had planned everything to the last detail. What she had not planned for was a certain Elf’s erratic and unpredictable cycle coming into play.

Fuck.

Lup was gone. She had to be gone, or she’d have found a way to come back to the Starblaster. She and Taako were so hard in sync that this really shouldn’t have happened, and yet… there he was. Temperature rising. Metabolism ramping up to ‘high’. Resistance to the voidfish’s slumber-spell as his memories rewrote themselves? Rising.

He started moving. Sniffing the air. Grunting and murmuring half-formed syllables when he wasn’t subtly whimpering in pain and loss. His hands attempted to reach out for someone or something.

She didn’t have much time.

Lucretia more or less dumped Taako in the Stage Coach without any kind of care or ceremony. Somewhere nearby, someone had to have left an unwanted child somewhere. It was an adjustment of Locate Creature and Locate Person that worked with the vaguest of descriptions. In this case, “new, unwanted baby.”

It didn’t take long to find one. A small bundle in a basket left on the steps of a trade house. Asleep and not alerting anyone to their presence. She burned all her slots on Expeditious Retreat, just to get this kid to Taako before he happened to anybody else.

After that, it was a simple matter of depositing the basket at the door and gently, carefully sliding it closer to Taako. An Elf undergoing Luume’irma and recovering from a voidfish mind-wipe.

Whatever divinity knew and controlled all the multiverse? They were the only ones that would know what this was doing to Taako’s brain.

*

Ten Years Later…

The inn where Barry Bluejeans was resting up was on fire. There should have been only one person stupid enough to run into an inn that was on fire. Especially an inn on fire that contained an angry Dwarf who was also on fire.

There were actually two.

“MY BABY!”

In a so-far uncharacteristic display of courage and thoughtlessness, Taako… rushed in. Ahead of Magnus. Ahead of everyone who had the slightest fragment of doubt.

“Taako!” Magnus called, but even he could not brave the flames. People were screaming and running for safety. Animals were stampeding the heck out of there.

They could hear Taako shrieking for his baby… and a small, piping voice calling for their Papa. Then Taako burst out of an upper floor window, holding something in both arms.

Magnus rolled a crit to catch them. He had a slightly singed Elven wizard in his arms, who had a smoke-stained small boy in his. A small boy of ten who looked nothing like Taako. The child was darker, and most definitely not Elven.

It was the ears. They were a dead giveaway.

“Taako?” said Magnus. “When did you get a kid?”

“Maybe we should get the fuck outta here first,” Taako pointed to the inn that was getting increasingly on fire. “That’s more’n we can handle.”

“Point,” Magnus acknowledged, and began to rush off after Killian for the well.

*

Gods… they got old, Lucretia thought. They were so much older, now, than they had ever been in the century they’d been running. Taako was the only one who showed it less, but there was still an alarming change.

Taako, once a clothes horse, had apparently been wearing that one outfit until it had begun wearing out, then subsequently patching it or darning it where necessary. Peeking out from behind his hip was the reason for the frugality and, come to think of it, the alarming weight loss from the plushly upholstered twins that she was used to seeing.

Luume’irma could do interesting things to a life. This little boy had to be the baby she had unceremoniously scooped from a Smithy’s doorstop. Three miles away from Mudwater Hollow.

His life would be so very, very different if Taako hadn’t had one of his episodes right there and then. She had changed his entire life with one, split-second decision.

The boy wore glasses, and his dark eyes jinked about, glancing at everything as if taking notes. His clothing was neat and clean, but not brand new. Something had happened to the good life Lucretia had hoped to give Taako. He should never have had a reason to start adventuring.

Yet… here he was. With a child. With a Relic and a magical artefact in his possession. Both of which, his sister had made. He’d found her. Judging by the look on his face, he had no clue that he had done so.

She had to make certain that they made it. No more families, eaten by the Hunger. No more black terror, consuming reality. No more running. No more hiding. No more of this endless war.

They couldn’t be allowed to know who they once were. They weren’t ready. None of them could know, not even the sharp-eyed child who had his eyes ticking over every clue he could see.

Lucky that she had had ten years to refine her deception skills. Even though she had to do this, she hated herself. “Welcome, the four of you, to the Bureau of Balance…”

[TAZ prompts remaining: 6]

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Baking Day was an even mix of fun, mess, and a modicum of frustration. Angus thought he was getting the hang of it and Taako was stress-testing his last nerves in watching an amateur take twenty minutes to do what a pro could do in seconds.

He had to keep casting back to when he was an amateur bumbling along under the guidance of Aunty Ques. How she had put up with these levels of horseshit. In doing so, he missed Angus just tossing the measured flour into the whipped egg whites.

“Sift it fir–” too late. “Augh!” His hands went up, bracelets jangling, to grip at his hat.

Ango went down, ducking and covering for a split second before realising that no incoming blows were going to happen.

In that time, Taako had lowered his hands and had to roll a save to stop feeling like the scum of the universe. He said, “Who hit you?”

“Nobody recently, sir. Everyone up here on the moon treats me really well.”

Taako fought for calm. “That wasn’t the question I asked, pumpkin. Someone had to hit you a lot for that kind’a reflex. Don’t matter if they’re not on the moon…”

Angus couldn’t look him in the eye. “My parents never hit me, sir.”

“So it was tutors they paid for? Nice,” he dripped sarcasm with that last word. “Or was it some shitty boarding school for fancy boys?”

“…they were s’posed to,” Angus murmured. “Discipline’s very important…”

“Horseshit.”

“Sir?”

“Horse. Shit. There’s hundreds of ways to get kids to act nice and beating on ‘em is one o’ the worst. I never knew the feel of someone else’s hand until I was out on the road and far from home ‘n’ family.” He had his centre, now, and used his new-found calm to gently pat Angus’ hair. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“There was that time you threw me off a train, sir…”

“Better than letting you stay on it,” said Taako. “Anyway, I cast Shield. You were fine.” He’d never admit it, but he also believed he’d never see this kid again. Now that he was a coworker… Damnit. He added, “Sorry.”

Angus looked stunned. “Did you… just apologise to me?”

“Don’t brag about it,” said Taako. “You were due. Make a big thing out of this and you might not hear any more. Got it?”

“No, I understand, sir. I just… nobody’s ever done that before.”

Shit. Now he felt worse. “That’ll change,” said Taako, inwardly vowing to make it change. “Get used to it.”

[TAZ prompts remaining 8]

This is going to be tricky for you and the rest of my readers. The ask is being answered a few [five days at current count] days before I get to the fic prompt that is part two. So… thanks in advance for your patience in this matter.

As is always with luume headcannon - @interstellarvagabond should verify or deny my accuracy.

Any Elf who already has sensory issues would fucking HATE luume, IMHO. I’m pretty sure the painful experiences would be dulled, since luume exists to perpetuate the species, but unpleasant ones are another story. I imagine that sort of thing would be the same level of annoying as a mosquito in the dark. Awareness plus fixation plus an inability to do anything much about it.

Symptoms of luume usually read as ‘inebriated’ to the uninitiated, and the Elven brain in question is sorting the world into one of three ways to deal with it [fight, fuck, or feed]. This leads me into thinking that a luume-addled Elf would attempt to fix whatever was annoying at the time [eg: irritating clothes? Get naked. Too cold? Burrow in somewhere warm]. This might also lead to cycling activities when the need to find a mate conflicts with the unpleasant overstimulation.

An Elf triggered by loud noises wouldn’t call/yowl to try and find a mate, for instance. One triggered by cold would never go out in the snow.

It depends how deep into Cave-Elf your character goes. One might, for instance, tear the fuck out of any scratchy blankets they find while another would focus on gathering up all the soft cotton materials so they could get comfy.

I hope this has been helpful, and may the air never harm you again.