[AN: Well, now I owe y’all an Ango purring fic. It is continuing on from the last Young Angus fic. The morning after the nightmares before. Tomorrow’s tale will be happening in AO3 just FYI]

Angus yawned as he lay in Mr Taako’s arms. Let Mr Taako finger-comb his hair. His eyes kept wanting to close and the bedding was soft and warm and he felt safe, which was a big deal for him.

Mr Taako had called Angus ‘our boy’. That was a big deal, too.

A soft rumble began in his chest, an echo of the contentment that he was only just now starting to realise he felt. He’d never purred before, not that he could easily recall. For a moment, his purr stuttered and faltered.

Mr Taako kept petting his hair. “It’s okay,” he cooed. “It’s okay. It’s all natural, and it’s always allowed.” As if to demonstrate, he, too, purred. Soft and relaxing and reassuring.

Angus let himself relax. Let all of the trepidation he usually felt evaporate. Let the sensation of safety and security fill him up like one of Mr Taako’s delicious meals. The rumble came back with a vengeance.

Mr Taako gripped him tighter for a little bit, and Angus suspected that more liquid joy was leaking out of his eyes. That thought made him purr even louder. Him and the cats and Mr Taako and the laziness of a relaxed morning when nothing urgent needed to happen.

Eventually, the purring slowed as morning discomforts made themselves known. A full bladder and an empty stomach made rising from their nest a necessity.

As always, Mr Taako offered him choices on how to start his morning. Shower or bath? Cereal, pancakes, or a fry-up? Mint or raspberry toothpaste? Somewhere in the middle of all those choices, including his choice of clothing, Mr Taako got dressed and organised the ingredients for the breakfast of Angus’ choice.

“Sir?” Angus asked in the middle of consuming his scrambled eggs. “Why are you soft and I’m loud?”

Mr Taako chuckled. “Oh, I can purr real loud from time to time,” he said. “Loud purrs are what happens when Elves feel totally safe and content. Let their family know by purring as loud as they can. You got yourself quite the engine, there, by the way.”

Angus didn’t want to think that something was causing Mr Taako to not feel safe and content. “So… you don’t have much of an engine?”

Mr Taako bit his lip. “It’s… uh… It’s a little different when an Elf is feeling parental, the purr… it gets softer. To help the child feel… well…”

“More content and secure?” prompted Angus.

“Yeah,” said Mr Taako. “That.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t have an easy time saying things, sometimes, kid. Angus. ‘Specially three small words like… I and love and you. In that order.”

“It’s okay, sir,” said Angus. “I noticed.”

“I don’t care what the judges in all of this say, sweetie, you’re my kid. The purring proves it.”

The rumble in Angus’ chest started up again with that statement.

[AN: I am now coining the word Angstus. Both portmanteau of ‘angst’ and ‘Angus’ and a combo of the words “angst us” which is kind of appropriate for the topic.]

Of all the foods in all the world, the one least expected to be allergic to was the one Angus discovered on his third day on the moon. He didn’t discover this by logical deduction nor a greater perception check. He didn’t even discover it by solving a hideous murder.

No. Angus discovered this one by the dumbest of dumb luck: by nearly fucking dying.

The realisation had dawned on the boy detective that, as a fellow employee of the Bureau of Balance, Angus McDonald had nobody telling him what to do. No parents to yell at him about a complete breakfast. No mandatory requirements for breakfast. No necessity of porridge and no insistence on bran.

Angus dished himself up a sampler from the buffet bar. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, quite a lot more syrup than should be rational because he was a ten-year-old boy. He put a little bit of everything that he hadn’t been allowed to have, including one of the fashionable new bread rolls with the seeds on top.

“Good to see you branching out, Mr McDonald,” said Madam Director. She was evidently feeling picky, since she usually sent Davenport to collect some fried fare and a large mug of coffee. “Do try to remember that fruits and vegetables exist.”

Angus blushed a little and said, “I’ll get some next time, ma’am. It’s just that I’ve never had any of this stuff before.”

“Pace yourself,” she said, scooping herself a bowl of something gelatinous and greasy-looking with bits in it.

“Yes’m.” Angus found a table next to his heroes, the Reclaimers, so he could listen in to what passed for their morning conversation. There was gradually more of it as Taako surfaced from his early morning stupor, and Magnus gradually ran out of bacon to cram into his mouth.

Whilst his heroes were returning to full consciousness, he had plenty of flavours to explore. Sweet and savoury and so tasty and he had to wonder why his parents insisted so hard on limiting his diet. This was all wonderful.

It was all wonderful. At least until he took a single bite of the sesame seeded bun.

One bite was enough.

His mouth felt funny. His face felt weird. He started having trouble breathing in at all. His mouth and lips and throat started to feel like they were burning. The hand holding the bun was swollen up like a fantasy balloon.

People were yelling. Some were running around, but Angus couldn’t focus so much on that because his entire body was burning and he couldn’t breathe and the world was fading away and his heart was racing and he was so scared…

Someone knocked him flat on the floor.

Someone stabbed him in the thigh.

Someone said the word ‘tracheotomy’, but by then, something else was working. Breath came easier. The fires in his veins were dying down.

Taako was leaning over him. Pressing something into his leg.

“Thur?” he managed, tongue feeling like an old tennis ball. “Wa’th goin’ on?”

Taako was looking like he was reliving an old nightmare. “That was one shit of an allergic reaction, my dude. You almost went into anaphylactic shock there.” The thing jabbing into his thigh was a special crystal. Very thin and pencil-shaped. A blue cap at one end dangled loose and Taako’s thumb was pressed so hard against that end that the flesh was white. It took him a will save to remove it at last from Angus’ leg. There was a small trace of blood at the sharp end. “You’re real lucky I carry my own, little man.”

Magnus helped him sit up. “If you wanna throw up, aim away from the people who helped you.”

The quenching fires came out in a cold sweat. Angus felt shaky all over. Parts of him were still swollen, but they were going down. “Whad ith tha’ thur?”

“Fantasy epi-pen. Gives your bod what it needs to fight off a severe allergic reaction.” Taako very carefully placed the spent crystal in with the trash on his table. He dug an unused one out of a handy pocket. “They’re one charge wonders, unfortunately.” He showed Angus how to use it, but did not expend the spare in the process. “Red to the thigh, blue to the sky,” he repeated. “Press and hold for as long as you can.”

Finally, the Bureau Clerics turned up to cast Cure Poison and analyse what went wrong. Given the speed of the reaction, the only suspect was the sesame seeds on the new rolls.

“You took your sweet damn time,” grumbled Merle.

“You didn’t even try healing the kid,” complained Magnus.

“Yeah this literal child was almost killed by a fucking garnish,” complained Taako. He was suddenly staring into a very bad memory. “…a fucking garnish…”

“…’m okay now, thank you, thur,” Angus rasped.

“We’re going to take him off for a full allergen test,” said the attending Cleric. “The diagnostic warlocks should have no trouble detecting any other allergens that young Mr McDonald should steer clear of.”

“Uh… maybe that should be done first in future?” said Magnus.

“A garnish…” Taako kept repeating. “The garnish… garnish…”

Angus was more worried about Taako than he was about himself. Something about garnish really disturbed his favourite wizard. That, alas, had to be a mystery for another day.

Today was going to get eaten up with tests and scrying and, eventually, some results. He had to sit put and fight boredom and watch his swellings gradually deflate back into their normal configuration.

He wasn’t alone. People from all over the Bureau stopped by to see how he was doing. Avi, Johann, Magnus, Carey, Killian, Merle… even Davenport and Madam Director. They came with puzzles and little tokens.

Towards the end of the day, Taako arrived with a book. Caleb Cleveland and the Sinister Chef. “This one’s based on something that actually happened. Looks like it’s your favourite.”

“I’m feeling a lot better, sir,” Angus said. “Would you like to sit and read with me?”

“No,” Taako turned and made for the exit. He stopped just on the threshold. “Thanks anyway.”

[AN: You skipped a few words there, but I can see them. “His arms” right?]

For the first three overnights, Angus was nearly mute, very rarely expressing himself with words. For the first week away from the orphanage, he gradually got bold enough to speak in complete sentences. That was when prospective parents decided that he was too much work and went looking for easier children to adopt.

Therefore, it was the second week-long stay with Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz that Angus started having nightmares. Vivid ones that didn’t always go away when he woke up. Or ones that continued when he woke up, and woke up, and woke up again.

Mr Taakko clued on inside of two nights. “Never got this far, huh?” he said, his hands busy with something pastry-based. Mr Taako cooked his emotions and stress always made for the airiest desserts. He wasn’t stressed because of Angus, he explained, he was stressed about Angus. No small child should have to endure this horseshit, he had said. Frequently. “Scared we’ll throw you off for a better model, trade you in or whatever.” He exchanged one bowl for another, whipping and whipping and whipping at some cream. “No matter how often I tell you it ain’t happening, it’s still hard to believe, right?”

“You hit the nail on the head, there, sir.”

Mr Taako nodded, his hands never stopped working. Putting his stress and worry into frothing up assorted batters or rolling flat assorted doughs. The hands moved on their own as Mr Taako thought out loud. “I gotta tell you, kiddo. I hardly went through that. I always had my sister to show my I wasn’t alone, that I always had someone on my team.” Fold, fold, fold, went his hands, then dish, dish, dish as he filled folded pastry with something he’d literally whipped up. “You need someone who’s just… there.” He said. “Up for a potential-family sleepover in the cuddle cote tonight?”

Angus understood most of those words, but in context, together, they sounded like nonsense. Especially ‘cuddle cote’. “What’s a cuddle cote, sir?”

Mr Taako showed him, once he was finished putting the latest chain of creations in the oven. It was a rounded space with a low ceiling. Made for crawling through but mostly designed for laying down or cuddling up in. In the wayback times, a whole family would take up one cote and cuddle and snuggle together. Babies would be in the trundle-pods, off to the sides, never far from someone who could look after them, and never endangered by larger bodies in the cote.

Angus noted that he could fit in some of the larger trundle pods, all scrunched up and secure in his own little bubble. Once he evicted two or three cats, of course.

“If you wanna curl up in there, that’s your prerogative, Ango, but Krav and I will be right here if you need us. Guaranteed me, though. Krav sometimes has to scootch off on Bird Mom business.”

That was… a slightly unnerving wrinkle in things. He could count the Raven Queen herself - a literal goddess - as an adopted grandmother. The chain of illogic evaded him, but it seemed to fit Mr Taako like a glove.

Just like this old Elven farmhouse. Just like all the irregular insanity that seemed to be Mr Taako’s facts of existence.

That night, Mr Taako showed Angus and Mr Kravitz the whole workings of the cuddle cote. How to plump up the mattresses and how to use all the cushions and pillows and blankets. Where the exits were and where they lead to, and how the entire space lit up with fairy lights whenever anyone was awake, or how the whole cote was protected from the worst and messiest of accidents by recently refreshed runes.

Not that Angus had ever had a bed-wetting accident since he was two years old, but it was nice to know that the facility was there. Just in case.

The sleepover included snacks and drinks and quiet talk and funny stories until Angus curled up with one of the cats in his pre-selected trundle pod. Mr Taako tucked them in and then snuggled with Mr Kravitz as the lights got dimmer and dimmer and sleep came naturally as breathing.

Unfortunately, so did the nightmares.

The same ammonia-scented nightmare as always, that he was back in the cold, damp, unfeeling halls of the orphanage. That he’d never left. That his life with Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz was all a fever dream. That he was sick. That he was dying. That nobody cared…

“Angus… Angel. I’m right here. Papa’s right here, honey. You’re having a bad dream. Come on. Come on back to us.”

The fairy lights, subtly glowing runes, and organic curves of the cuddle cote didn’t mesh well with the industrial bareness of the orphanage. Angus was never happier to see Mr Taako’s luminescent mismatched eyes in the half-light.

There was no need to think about it. He just lunged out of the trundle pod and threw his arms around Mr Taako. He smelled of safety. Which, in this case, was of baked goods, cinnamon, and his slightly floral cologne.

Mr Taako returned the embrace, producing a soft and comforting purr. “I gotcha, baby. I gotcha. You want up and out?”

Angus nodded.

Mr Taako lifted him out of the trundle pod, taking the blanket with and sort of rolling Angus between two adult bodies. One dead to the world, so to speak.

“Mrnh?” said Mr Kravitz, sort of rolling over.

“Bad dream. Baby needs cuddles.”

“Mm-hm…” Mr Kravitz scootched up and put an arm around them both. His even breathing and Mr Taako’s gentle purr and both their arms around him made him feel safer than he ever remembered feeling. This time, when he slept, no nightmares could break through.

His next awareness was Mr Kravitz moving and wiping some tears from Mr Taako’s face. “Tears, love?”

“Liquid happiness,” said Mr Taako. “Our boy’s starting to accept us.”

Angus didn’t protest. This was, after all, the reason he was having the nightmares in the first place; because he feared all this wonderful being taken away.

I fucking love fanart. If you make a fan art from anything I’ve written, I will most likely:

* instantly reblog it

* rave about how wonderful both it and you are

* follow your blog (unless it’s a porn blog)

So art to your hearts content. I will love you. Tag or @ me when you post so I can know it exists, okay?

[AN: More on the Young Angus Verse, or YAV for short!]

Some times, it was hard to remember that he was part of the family forever. Times like this, in the middle of the night, when his throat was scratchy and he kept being both too hot and too cold. When he had to get up to pee and almost ralphed with the flashbacks.

He kept smelling pine. He kept seeing grey. He kept feeling the eternal cold and damp of the boys’ ward.

Sick again? Really, Mr McDonald… what are we going to do with you?

Angus drank water, because nobody complained about him needing water, and changed into his warm winter pyjamas and huddled in a tight ball under his blankets. If he just got enough rest, if he was quiet enough, then nobody would punish him for being an ordeal.

If he could pretend it was all normal, then nobody would be rough with him in forcing him to get better.

He woke up with the alarm. Filing out in step with the other boys, to the kludgies where his toes burned in spite of how cold the floors normally were. From there, to the bathroom where he waited to be called.

“Angel? Angus, sweetie, do you need me to get your shower ready? It’s a school day, hon.”

Angus turned and nearly screamed. Mr Thud was talking with Mr Taako’s voice. He looked so angry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rasping. “Did I miss the nurses call?”

“Nurses?” Mr Thud knelt and a jingle happened when he moved his arms. “Angel… You’re not okay…”

“I’ll be fine,” he rasped. “Don’t keep me away from the sunshine? I didn’t mean it.”

“Ooohhh kay…” Mr Thud’s image crooned. “Tell me five things you see, okay sweetheart?”

Five things. He could see five things. “I see a floor mat. I see a… bathtub…” it wasn’t tin. It was set into the glittering cream tiles. “I see a sink basin. I see… a shower stall…” Mr Thud wasn’t there any more. “I see you, Mr Taako.”

“That’s good, that’s good. I’m gonna put my hand on your noggin, okay? Just real gentle. You go ahead and tell me all about four things you can hear.”

Jingle jingle jingle, went his bangles. “I hear your jewellery. I hear… Mr Kravitz feeding the cats.” He closed his eyes. “I hear the kettle boiling. And I hear the upper branches creaking.”

“That’s very good, Angus. I’m gonna touch you on the side of your jaw and neck. It’s okay to let me know if it hurts. If you can, tell me about three things you can feel.”

Angus reached out. “I feel th’ glass of the shower stall. It’s nice an’ cool. I feel your hands… ow…”

“Sorry, baby.” Mr Taako got way more gentle.

“Your hands are nice and soft.”

“Uhuh. One more thing you can feel. You can do this.”

He rubbed the fabric of his pyjamas. “I can feel soft, warm flannel.”

“Excellent. Give me a big sniff and tell me two things you can smell.”

“I can smell your cologne… and… there’s jam cooking? Strawberries?”

He wasn’t Mr Taako. He was Papa. He’d been Papa for some time, now. “That’s great,” he cooed. “Can I  pick you up?”

Angus nodded, leaning into the hold. His world felt so much safer with Papa holding him. Especially when Papa held him between Dad and himself.

“Last thing. What does your mouth taste like, now?”

Angus flexed his tongue in his mouth. “Morning funk. I didn’t brush my teeth.”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart.” They were headed towards the big cuddle cote, where it was always a nice temperature and half the cats spent their nap times.

“‘S a school day. I’m s’posed’a go t’ school.”

“Not any more. Change of plans.” Papa stopped. “Krav? Can you call the school? We got a case of swellneck here. I think the modern name is mumps?”

“On it, babe,” said Dad. He started dialling a frequency on the nearest Stone of Farspeech.

“I got mumps?” Angus croaked.

“Yeah. Not your fault. I blame Susan and her anti-vax friends. You were going to get your boosters next week, but…” Papa sighed. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

It was nice in the cuddle cote. It was always nice in the cuddle cote. Room enough to sprawl out and laze around with up to ten adults. Angus picked a space where the household cats weren’t napping and got as comfy as he could.

Papa used Prestidigitation to heat one piece of towelling and cool another. Angus got to pick which one felt the best around his swollen neck. The warm one made him feel better.

“The bad news is, you’re out of circulation for a week or two,” said Papa.

“The good news,” said Dad, entering with a tray, “is you get all the ice cream, custard, and jelly you want.”

“And soup,” said Taako. “Can’t forget soup.”

Angus had a smile despite how horrible he was feeling. This wasn’t the orphanage any more. It would get easier to remember that as time went by.

Luume’irma belongs to @interstellarvagabond and I just ran off with a good idea like a true rogue.

It’s a physically taxing ordeal which is almost designed to (a) increase the Elven family (b) protect the family, or © re-enforce the bonds within the family. [aka: “Fight, fuck, or feed” the three F’s of Luume’irma]

Whilst gestating, such an ordeal would logically tax the body, and probably endager the kid-in-potentia. Therefore, pregnancy hormones just shut Luume the fuck off. Pregnancy hormones continue until like a few days after delivery, which is why postpartum depression happens. It’s unlikely that Luume would switch on during labour. Depending on the severity.

If it did, it would be much milder and the unlucky Elf in the process would have to roll will saves to resist the urge to bite the doctor/midwife/any non-family attendants.

If the originator of this particular thing would like to weigh in on this, pay attention to them, not me.

They were visiting the beach, so of course Taako busted out his surfboard. He cut an interesting figure, gliding across the waves as if it were magic. Angus, still learning how to swim, was distracted by the spectacle.

He almost didn’t hear Magnus yell, “Watch out for the riptide!”

Angus had just enough time to say, “The what?” Before the water yanked him under. There was swirling, and he couldn’t tell which way was up, and rough coral cut him and something hit his head and then all was darkness.

“SHIT!” Magnus bellowed. he took a deep breath and dove into the riptide, trying to at least be there for the kid.

Taako saw the whole thing, including a very small figure zipping underneath him. Followed not closely enough by the big lug with the minimal perception score. He flicked the surfboard around and rode away from the cresting wave he’d been riding, paddling with his hands to get extra speed. He cast Water Breathing on Angus and Magnus, and hoped that he was in time.

Under the water, Magnus felt gills grow. His vision cleared in the briny deep, and he could see Angus floating limply in the water. He had gills, too, but they didn’t seem to be working. Blood plumed out from some wounds. He started swimming towards the kid, hoping he got there before the shadows in the depths.

Taako summoned his new pet from his pirate adventure, bidding it to look for those humanmen and bring them to Taako. Magnus freaked at the sight of a giant octopus. He wasn’t that great about anything with eight legs. Taako had his eyes on the kid, Mango could look after himself.

The Octopus was gentle, of course, bringing Angus carefully up to the surface.

Angus wasn’t breathing.

They were far from the shore and Angus wasn’t breathing.

Taako got Magnus on the surfboard and said, “Take this back to shore.” He stepped onto the octopus and used that as a steed to get most of the way back to shore. For the last twenty feet, he got the octopus to throw them.

He landed near Merle, who was ready to cast Spare the Dying. Both of them together wrestled air into Angus’ lungs.

Taako only breathed when Angus recovered from coughing and spitting up water. “I told you he should’a gone swimming in the lagoon.”

“No you didn’t, I did,” argued Merle. “You said he’d be fine.”

“Can’t prove it,” said Taako.

Angus shakily sat up. “Thank you, sirs. I thought I was a goner for a second there.”

“Take it easy for a few,” advised Taako. “Not everyone can be a wizard of the waves like Taako.”

Somewhere, out in the ocean, Magnus yelled, “Taako! How do you make it go?”

[AN: I got good news for you, Nonny! I’m planning a longer version over in my plot kittens file. So I’m doing a much briefer version here.]

It started on the first Candlenights after the Hunger War. The only time he had had to chill out, snuggle down, and watch Fantasy Television with his main man, Kravitz. Everyone was nearly asleep thanks to the Candlenights feast, and the evening news was playing because nobody had the energy to reach for the Fantasy Remote. Besides, one of the cats was probably sleeping on it.

They were up to the puff pieces. Orphanages receiving Candlenights’ toys. Taako was particularly struck by the faces as they pretended to smile. He knew this ruse. They all had to cluster under the Candlenights Tree and pretend to enjoy opening presents that they had spent all day wrapping before the Fantasy News people stopped by. They all had to smile and pretend that these were the best presents in the world. The ones who actually got on the news got extra favours for a month.

There was a tiny boy in the arms of a gigantic teddy bear, with tears in his eyes. The smile on his face was fake as, but that didn’t matter because he was cute.

“Aaaww…” cooed Krav. “Poor little mite’s overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed that it isn’t real,” mumbled Lup.

“We spent some time in places like that,” said Taako. “Babe? I wanna rescue one of those kids. Give ‘em a chance.”

Krav chuckled. “Sure thing, babe. You bring me the paperwork and I’ll sign it. I’ll even come to any interviews you arrange.” He was probably thinking that this would be yet another pipe dream that Taako would soon dismiss as too much work.

He was so very, very wrong.

Four months later, he was attending inspections with Taako to make sure that the eventual home of a child they hadn’t met yet was up to snuff. Considering that this was the twins’ grandfather’s old farm, there was a lot to fix. Starting with the old-fashioned kludgie-holes that they were gradually installing proper toilets over.

Two months after that, they were walking around what looked like the shittiest orphanage in Faerun. Taako kept muttering ‘typical’ over and over again. The clothes were grey. The walls were grey. The linoleum was only black and white by way of a technicality. Heat avoided these places. The boys’ wards always smelled of pee and pinesol. The former because the nasty ones literally pissed on everything they could aim at.

Their tour guide was patiently explaining that things were sterilised with ammonia. Lying through her teeth. Taako kept walking until they were shown the sun room, where the babies were adopted by heteros and the sickly kids were allowed to stay so they’d be warm and moderately healthier.

There, the world’s tiniest child was seated in the window and reading a very thick book. Taako ignored the bloviating about the babies to creep up and see what the kid was reading.

Caleb Cleveland and something-or-other. It had been heavily censored. All the action scenes were left up to the imagination.

This one, he thought. I’m taking this one into my family.

This was a kid who had given up, so he was mostly silent on the first handful of visits. Nervy kid. Terrified of doing something wrong. He saw largesse from Taako as more of the usual glitter that would -to his mind- inevitably get taken away.

Taako spent most of their bonding time in the kitchen. Helping Angus to cook up some delicious shit. Helping him get used to making mistakes. Not being overly concerned when the kid inevitably messed up, as kids could do. Even when he dropped a bowl, Taako’s first concern was that those bare little feet and soft little hands weren’t cut by the sharp china fragments that had scattered around. He hadn’t even noticed it until Angus pointed it out.

Krav bonded with the help of Caleb Cleveland. They bought the entire set so far and Krav used his adorkable Bard skills to do all kinds of character voices. Taako brought in snacks and drinks and took a few turns reading as well.

Visit by visit, little by little, Angus started to believe that he was wanted. Smiles started appearing on his face. He started growing more open to hugs. Thanks to Taako’s cooking, the general prognosis started to look more positive.

It took well over a year, but they finally signed the last piece of paperwork. Angus was his. Theirs. Whatever. He was family.

They would be having a welcome-to-our-home party on the soonest Tuesday. The one day that everyone had off.

“Brace yourself, kiddo,” said Taako. “Now you’re mine, I wanna try kissing your face off.”

Angus giggled. “You can certainly try, sir.” He threw his arms around Taako’s neck for a very successful grapple roll.

Taako, for once, didn’t care who heard him purr or who saw the happy tears in his eyes.

They’re gender neutral pronouns. Some time ago, there was an infographic with, IIRC, six different sets of agender pronouns including the singular form of ‘they’. The combo of ze/hir was the only set I could make stick into my noggin on a permanent basis.

[eg: “Ze went to fetch hir coat.”]

I’m not gender fluid/agender/bigender/etc. but I do wish to be judged on the power of my writing rather than the contents of my underpants. I suspect that there is a gender bias in the literary world, especially in the field of speculative fiction. Therefore, I’m not revealing my true identity until I get to a top ten best-seller.

After that, we’ll see where the bias is, or if there is one.

Meanwhile, we can all normalise gender identity by adding our pronouns to our profiles, and trying to respect them. For instance - if you can’t conjugate ze/hir, I’m perfectly willing to accept the singular ‘they’.

[AN: Autistic!Angus so very much fits with the (s)mother and father I wrote yesterday]

“But sir,” Angus was arguing as he trailed along behind Tres Horny Boys on the moon, “There’s no reason why anything would be called ‘updog’, ‘bofa’, or ‘parfa’. If you could just explain it, I–”

Something else got his attention. The empty lot right beside the Fantasy Costco had an ‘Opening Soon’ poster and the logo was for B&N. Books and Nerd Shit.

Angus failed his will save. B&N was the best store in the world! They were always the first to have any Caleb Cleveland books and any of the merchandise, too. The fact that there was one coming onto the moon was the best news in his life.

He screamed in delight, jumping up and down and flapping his hands in a joy so pure that he completely lost awareness of where he was, what he was doing, and who was watching.

“What the shit?” said Magnus.

“Fuck!” Taako squawked.

“Whoah,” said Merle.

Angus froze, going from the heights of delight to the depths of terror in less than a nanosecond. He shrank into a defensive curl, arms wrapped around his head. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” cooed Magnus. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you. We promise.”

“You scared some jelly outta me, li’l man,” said Taako. “What the fuck?”

Angus was already crying. “I’m sorry. Please don’t put me away…”

Even Merle had an expression of confused pity, but Angus couldn’t see it because of the tears. “What the hell is going on?” he wondered.

Angus was holding himself and rocking in place. “They’re gonna be so mad… They’re gonna send me away… I’ll never see any of you again…”

Taako, awkward at this sort of thing at the best of times, laid an awkward hand on Angus’ shoulder. “Cool your jets there, Ango. None of us know what the hell is going on, here.”

“Deep breaths, kid,” said Merle. “No fainting on the moon.”

“Do you need a hug?” offered Magnus.

Angus fell into the rowdy boy’s arms, shaking from head to toe. “They said never be loud. They said never jump around. They said I had to have quiet hands. Or they’d put me away in an institution and I’d never see anyone again.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” said Magnus.

A shuddering, indrawn breath. “…m’ mother ‘n’ father…”

“He has parents?” said Merle.

“Not any more,” said Taako. “Shits that treat a kid like that don’t deserve a kid like this.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Angus, feeling so much better about his place in the world.

“Don’t mention it,” said Taako. “Ever.”

He sank down again. “Oh. Yeah. You have a brand.”

“So…” said Magnus, still hugging the boy detective. “What the hell made you do that?”

Angus pointed. “There’s B and N moving in, sirs. It’s only the best store in the whole wide world. I got so excited I forgot myself.”

Magnus let him go, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Sounds to me like you remembered yourself.”

“Yeah, autism is nothing to be ashamed of, kid,” said Merle.

Angus frowned. “Is this another updog thing?”

“You. Don’t. Know…?” said Taako. “There’s a library right fuckin’ there,” he pointed out the enormous library dome. “Look it up. It’s no goof.”

Angus took the time to look it up after he had settled down. It wasn’t a goof. It was the exact thing he had in his noggin, but the best news of all was one simple fact.

There was nothing wrong with him.