[AN: That’s chainmail under the tail, not anything hinky]

“Since you’re such loyal customers,” said Garfield, “I can name the favour you have to perform in order to win this bad boy practically for free!”

“Cool…” said Taako.

“I want you to go to Neverwinter and eliminate my mortal enemy - Nermal the Bargains Warrior.”

Tres Horny Bois snorted simultaneously.

“Seriously?” giggled Magnus.

“Either you want the thing enough to do this, or… it goes to someone who will…”

So now they were in Neverwinter, facing the lair of the so-called enemy.

Fantasy K-Mart.

The shelves were narrower, the lighting dimmer, the carts wobblier and the prices… the prices were rock bottom. Everything was on sale. The bargain bins had bargain bins.

“Holy shit,” Magnus breathed.

Taako dotted on to the Seven Birds merchandise in the toy aisle. It was off-brand and insultingly off-model. “Who’s responsible for this shit? That’s a violation of copyright, right there.”

“On da contwawy,” said a voice belonging to a debatably Tabaxi shape inside a conglomeration of pick-and-mix armour. “It’s factowy seconds and thewefowe a bawgain.”

The consensus of opinion was, “Eurrgh…”

Nermal was cute. Undeniably so. He was also a level infinity warrior and capable of taking down grown-ass Dragons all by himself.

“Don’ be awawmed,” said Nermal. “I’m Newmaw, de bawgains wawwiow. I fight de fight fow bettew bawgains.”

“This has to be the shittiest store I ever set foot in,” muttered Merle.

“Of couwse it is,” said Nermal. “We keep de ovewheads low so we can pass de savings on to you.”

It was already too late. Taako had steepled his fingers. He was taking a deep breath. Doom for Fantasy K-Mart was incoming. “Listen…” he began.

*

For a change, they returned to Fantasy Costco without much in the way of injury or a maligned state. They did, however, have a huge cart full of random shit.

“Hail the victorious heroes!” Garfield cheered. “What the fuck is all that?”

“Taako talked him down to one copper for the entire inventory,” said Magnus.

“We already went through it for anything we could find useful,” said Merle.

“You can have anything you like outta the rest of it,” said Taako. “For store credit.”

“We’ll take that macguffin now,” said Magnus.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

“I’ll be back late, so you two go stay at Aunty Mak’s, okay?” La’ming kissed each of the twins on their foreheads. “It’s not a school night, so you can stay up late and watch shitty television and eat shittier food if you want.”

Koko rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry.

Lulu elbowed him and said, “Gourmet pizza exists, dingus.”

“If it can have pineapple on it, it’s not gourmet,” grumbled Koko[1].

“Don’t worry about me, okay. I’m fine. It’s just a really long session at the studio.” She spared a word for Makarune. “Don’t let them cook anything extravagant, okay? They should be kids. It’s burgers and popcorn kids crave, not pate du foi gras or whatever.”

“You try to cook a decent Pappardelle one time…” grumbled Koko.

“Don’t let ‘em run through your budget,” La’ming whispered. “Common, everyday ingredients, only.”

Makarune saluted. “I honestly don’t mind having a couple of little gourmet chefs in my kitchen. Go. Do your thing. It’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t.

Most of the day went well, but all it took to ruin a good day was a slick patch on a polished floor and a bad fall.

The twins didn’t know about any of this until the next morning, when they checked their emails.

It was a simple, brief message from a ran.som@gmail.com and it said, Got your mom. Email back 4 deets.

The screaming happened exactly five seconds after the message sank in. The twins ran for Makarune. They ran for Angus, on the top floor. They raised fifteen colours of stink and nobody could get a word in edgewise between the two of them. Not that either of them were making much in the way of sense.

The words ‘ransom letter’ and ‘mom’ surfaced a lot, but since the twins were talking over each other the entire time, it took a few moments to unriddle.

By then, Makarune had dosed them with the special sedative apple pancakes and hot chocolate. The emergency meeting of friends of the family had to happen on the rooftop garden, since it was most of the apartment block by then.

Avi was there with Johaan, hand in hand. The Pithons were there, as were the McDonalds. Then there was Makarune desperately trying to keep the twins at least on something resembling an even keel. So far, the Pithons were assisting by wrapping the twins up in their tails, Avi was attempting to coach them through some breathing and memory exercises, Johaan was playing Calm Emotion, and the McDonalds were analysing the shit out of the email.

“What kind of kidnapper sends a CC?” wondered Agatha.

“Or uses Gmail?” pondered Angus.

“Whaddathey want from us?” Koko snivelled. He had his hands wrapped around a big mug that almost dripped marshmallows and cream. “We’re kids. We don’t got shit…”

Lulu wiped her face. “I been savin’ up my pocket money, an’… I got… almos’ twenny dollars?”

Agatha elbowed Angus, pointing to something on the screen. Angus peered at it, lifting his glasses up. He said, “Oh, shit.”

Koko started out-and-out bawling again. “It’s the curse! It’s the cur-hur-hurse… I hurt our mo-o-o-om…”

Lulu wrapped herself around him. “We’re not bad luck, doofus. Our stupid father didn’t know anything about anything. We’re not cursed.”

“Indeed you’re not,” said Angus. “This isn’t a ransom email. It’s an email from someone who’s name concatenates into ‘ransom’. Specifically, ran dot som.”

“I think it might be from one of your mom’s… co-workers. Ransei Somner.” Also known as Hornee D’Lite to a select crowd. “I’ve emailed her back. Your mom took a tumble and broke her arm. She’s in recovery and I have the ward details.

Koko gulped down the hot chocolate. Lulu did the same. Together, they said, “Is she okay?”

*

La’ming surfaced from a cloud of dandelion extract. Her left arm really hurt. “Ma’am… There’s a large crowd of people here to see you. They say they’re your family.”

She looked over to Ransei. The large, thickset tiefling said, “I only emailed your kids,” and shrugged.

“Wanna see m’ babies,” La’ming slurred, deep in the valley of the dandelions. “They’ll be worried about me…”

The nurse pulled aside the curtain enough so that La’ming could see the entire fucking crowd of worried residents from her apartment block.

“Heeeeyyyy,” she crooned. “Th’ gang’s all here… Where’s my babies?”

Twin golden streaks shrieked, “Mom!” and then she was covered in family. Not so skinny, any more, but still so small and so light and very, very wet.

“Din’ wanna make y’ cry, m’ poor babies…” It was very important to kiss them. She couldn’t kiss them enough. “It’s okay… they got me onna good stuff.”

“Ease up,” said Ransei. “Careful of her left arm.”

“Is this your family, ma’am?”

La’ming squinted at the mob. “Yeah, they is m’ fam’ly. We all ‘dopted eachother…”

Ransei introduced herself to the family as a ‘co-worker’. She had had the foresight to get into some street-passable clothes before climbing into the ambulance with La’ming.

Those who recognised her as Hornee D’Lite kept that knowledge to themselves.

She was a thickset, russet-coloured tiefling with an enormous set of horns. Everything about her was thick.

“You didn’t tell me your babies were this cute,” she cooed. “Hey, there li’l darlin’s. I work with your momma. Can I cuddle you?”

Lulu looked to La’ming, who slurred, “Rans issa ver’ gen’l frien’…”

She was also, the twins discovered, soft and warm and the kind of comfort they needed at that exact moment.

The assembled crowd of well-wishers decided to wait until La’ming was sober before telling her about the upset, that morning.

[1] Opinions expressed by characters are not necessarily that of the author.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 10]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

They promised to stay in touch, and they didn’t. Avi did remember to keep an eye out on the papers for her mention, but… there wasn’t any. There were a small amount of Elven police officers in the NWPD, and it seemed like all twelve of them were taking turns being a figure on the front page.

The closer they were to looking Human, Avi noted, the more prominent they were likely to be. Sno, with her blueish skin tone and seemingly unnaturally red hair, wasn’t going to be in the papers unless she did something spectacular.

Which was kind of horrible, when you got down to it. Sno had to be one of the most driven officers in the NWPD, and they were likely wasting it all with her being a meter maid. Something like that.

Fellow officers called him an Elf Lover, and taunted him about it. Started more than a few fights that Avi refused to finish. They also tended to abuse the fact that he knew Elvish whenever an Elf was wont to panic in their native tongue.

Then Tre Llew-Ddion happened.

A small ghetto of Elven treehouses struck with a dismal disease that wiped out most of its population. The entire place had been conceived as an ideal community for Elves so that they could be separate yet equal. There were schools and meadows and a minimum model of what the Humans thought an Elven civilisation should look like.

It was too crowded and a fungal infestation from improper irrigation was just the nail on the coffin. Hundreds of Elves died. The survivors were almost universally the criminally young. Babes in arms, toddlers, and very small children. Everyone over the age of seventy had perished.

The Neverwinter City Watch were reassigned to the case files of all those young Elves. Which was where Avi met Sno once more.

She was in full uniform. She’d all been in full uniform before, but this was full uniform with a point to prove. Every crease was knife-sharp. Everything obeyed every single letter of regulations, including the way she sat and the way she wrote. She even had her uniform hat on, something that most officers doffed within seconds of being in the office.

She also had a mountain of paperwork that she was methodically working through like anyone would work through any odious task.

She looked like she’d never smiled in her life.

He tried to lighten her up. “Hey, maybe you could adopt one or two.”

She looked up and shook her head. “Not allowed. We’re here to see to their safe rehabilitation with family or foster homes.”

Avi tried again. “Okay. Then how about a few brews after you knock off to lighten that mood?”

This time, it was a pained yet patient glare. “I’ve been racking it on this shit since day one, Burnsides. There’s no time. These kids need help.”

Wow. That was her first empathic moment since their illicit rooftop beers back at the academy. Avi took half of her inbox and took a station in a neighbouring desk. “Okay, then. So I’ll help, then.”

*

Patrons to the Starlight Hotel had complained about their things going missing. Small items that wouldn’t easily be missed. Small items that turned up at an all-night pawn shop within three blocks of the hotel. Obviously, it was an inside job.

The manager, one Fritaada Starlight, captured Sno’s attention. She asked about his family and got introduced to Leverpalt, his wife, and their four kids, Mem and Coco, the older twins, and the infant ones, Trip and Tort.

Realisation dawned when Sno said, “What about Lulu and Koko Taaco? The twins added to your care?”

“They… ran away,” Leverpalt lied. Blatantly.

Sno kept her nat twenty insight check to herself. As did Avi. They continued with their alleged investigation into the small thefts, but the instant they were alone… she buttonholed Avi. “Listen. They’re going to be watching me like dire hawks, but they’ll think you don’t give a shit. Don’t let them think otherwise and find those twins. Make sure they’re okay.”

Sno never forgot a case file. She did her utmost to check, annually, on any of the hundreds of kids she’d seen into other homes. She was especially paranoid about those who remained in the system. The Taaco twins had effectively dropped off her radar despite being in family care. She was upset and obsessed at the same time.

He found evidence that the Starlights were cashing the cheques meant to go towards the Taaco twins’ care, but there was no evidence of those twins in the Starlights’ penthouse suite. One room for the older Starlight twins. One infants’ room for the others. No hint of little Taacitos.

He found them in a basement maintenance closet that had been refitted to be their bedroom. Two cots almost too small to let them sleep comfortably. A bucket for a bathroom and only an exterior lock. No windows, little circulation and, by the looks of things, little in the way of food.

Avi called it in as a clear case of neglect and Sno carried them out of there and into the flashes of some avid press.

She finally made the papers, half-obscured by two adorable, nearly-identical faces and the NWPD blanket wrapped around them both.

*

Avi knew he was allowed to be reckless with the bike the Watch gave him, sidecar and all. So long as he drove, he could pull whatever idiot stunts he liked. And he frequently did.

Sno preferred it that way. She could - off the record - egg him on to some stunts that inevitably needed a little magical assist to survive. Featherfall came in very handy when it came to hot pursuit of a criminal.

Then came the Clarke family case. Two parents expired of the Neverwinter Summer Flu - it had been bad that year - in combination with an outbreak of the same mould that had seen to the end of Tre Llew-Ddion. They had remained where they died while their three-year-old daughter continued to eke out an existence using available cash, and then her parents’ credit card. Her name was Lucretia and she was almost terrifyingly clever.

She was also electively mute and had selected Sno as the one person in the world she felt safe with.

Avi kept his distance as they sat in the lounge and waited for someone higher up the chain to come and attempt communication. Lucretia stayed bundled up in Sno’s big, winter coat and wouldn’t come out. She communicated exclusively through a series of nods, head-shakes, and pointing.

“I don’t know what to do,” Sno whispered as Lucretia apparently slumbered on her lap. “Why the hell did she pick me?”

Avi shrugged. “Guess she likes you. Somebody has to, right?”

That earned half a smile and a snort. She’d had to grow a tough, tough shell to make it to where she was in Precinct 42. Especially since their commander kept giving her the shittiest beats he could. “Thanks.”

“So… I can fill out all the forms you’d need for emergency foster care status,” he offered.

“They’re gonna wanna know the last time I had luume’irma and who was involved,” she sighed. That was two years ago, and Avi had known about the Off Switch. “There’s all kinds of invasive questions on the Elven forms.”

He got them anyway. Yikes. Those were nasty. When was the last Luume, how regular was the cycle, precise dates of the last ten, if applicable. Who was involved in every instance. Was there sexual intercourse and did any family result…

Things that nobody needed to know. 

Sno, like her mother, had gone through early Luume in the company of her grandparents at age seventy and had since gone through… eight of them. Regular as clockwork to the day. Rough as guts, too, since they put her through the wringer for forty-eight hours of metabolic hell.

After the last one, there was a memo in her file about being allowed time off and chemical sedation for the duration. Avi only knew this much because she’d bitched about some asshole laws people were looking at that may well have criminalised luume’irma.

He spared her as many details of the form as he could. CPS could try something in eight years or less when her next Luume was due to flare up, but… perhaps things might have changed by then. He could only hope.

“What do Humanman babies like her usually eat?” Sno worried. “Are they on solids, yet? Do I still give her milk?”

Avi snorted. “She’s got teeth, she can chew.” He remembered some words he’d heard a neighbour saying as she trooped the Taaco twins towards the bodega. “Never had a kid turn down the nugs,” though when she’d said it, she was complaining. “Some kids are lactose intolerant, though. Ask her what she likes to drink when she wakes up. I think they have juice boxes down in the kiddie room. I could get a sampler. And there’s always water.”

Sno took a deep breath. “My mom wasn’t ready for me when I was born. She left me with her parents and it took me years to learn that they’re some–” she stopped herself just in time. “You’ve met them.”

“Unfortunately,” agreed Avi.

“So I’ve got that as a starter kit. I know what CPS fffff–fudging hates, what their standards are for foster care. I know the schedule they’ll expect for improvement… but I got no idea how to start on that steep slope. I need help, Burnsides…”

“Well,” he said, ticking some checkboxes. “You know what not to do thanks to your grandparents. You know the lowest bar thanks to CPS. You know redemption is possible, thanks to your mom. Considering some of the places we had to let off with a warning? I think you’ll be fine.”

Lucretia Clarke stirred and stretched in Sno’s arms, causing her purr to kick up a notch. Sno carefully arranged some flashcards on the table. People, mostly, but there were other things. One card had a toilet on it and the word ‘bathroom’. Nothing was left to chance.

The larger portion of the flashcards were in a stack, should Lucretia ever decide to interact with them.

“Hi again,” Sno cooed. “Get enough sleep?”

Nod.

“I need to know if there’s anyone we can look up,” she said. “Anyone you’d like to stay with.” The cards had ‘grandmother’, ‘grandfather’, ‘aunt’, ‘uncle’, ‘cousin’, and ‘friend’ on them.

Lucretia very delicately picked up the ‘friend’ card and tapped it meaningfully on Sno’s badge. She wedged it partially under there, just to make the meaning clear.

The look she gave Avi was clear to anyone. It said, Help! and conveyed more than a modicum of, I’m out of my depth, here.

Avi had been the one studying early childcare in the hopes of being a dad, one day. He and Johaan had been talking optimistically about children. “Okay,” he said. “She wants to stay with you, she gets to stay with you. I can help with the fine details, but for now… do you have any relatives with a criminal record who could harm a small child?”

“Gramgram and Peepums don’t count,” said Sno. She was smiling. That was a joke. “Mom’s been cleared of that kind of wrongdoing, and the twins are too young. So… no.”

She was going to be fine. Avi could tell. Solid determination to do better than everything she knew had to be a clear indicator that she was going to be fine.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

The Xenophobia wars ended less than two hundred years ago. If you asked any random Human, they would claim the time to be closer or longer than four hundred years. They liked to pretend that the only Elves who remembered the atrocity of yesteryear were the ones who were behind the times and therefore easier to ignore.

Two hundred years after the wars came to a close, there were other evils. Segregation, separation of children from families. Sno was lucky that she’d only read about some horror-shows. Saint Vingo’s, for example, always came to the surface of that particular kettle of bad fish.

That one had given her nightmares for weeks.

The last generation of Elves had grown up more or less incapable of forging families. They had reproduced, and government ‘help’ had produced yet another generation of runaways and half-breeds flocking the ghettos and eking out existence out of whatever they could grab.

La’ming had nearly been down that deep dive. Right into the darkest gutter. She’d had a close call. A very narrow escape. Yet she still gained a majority of her income from… less than socially acceptable avenues.

The rise of dragon dens, Elven gangs, and trade in weeds had caused a lot of (Human) wowsers to generate fuss over how this sorry state of affairs could possibly have happened. They often did this whilst trumpetting about recreating horror-show reform schools that were exactly like Saint Vingo’s… which had caused the extant problem in the first place.

In an effort to pay lip service to action, the Chief of Police came up with a phenomenal stroke of pseudo-brilliance that was destined to bite people in the ass long after he’d retired. He outlawed being underage and unmarried on the streets if one was also Elven.

In an effort to reduce incidences of prostitution, and in an epic display of ignorance, one law stated that it was now illegal for Elven maidens to walk the streets of Neverwinter without the escort of a parent. Elven women had to be married in order to have the freedom to go where they whist and act under their own mental power.

It was bullshit.

As the only unmarried Elf maiden on the force, Sno felt obligated to do something. Not just for the children roaming the streets, but for any other Elf maidens everywhere who may have to deal with these asshole laws in the future.

Since the genetic donor responsible for fathering her couldn’t be assed with her existence, the only parent she had to escort her on her job in the streets of Neverwinter was none other than La’ming Ton. Her mother.

Her mother, who had had Sno at age seventy-one. Her mother, who had abandoned her to her grandparents at age seventy-two. Her mother, who had a criminal record longer than a Goliath’s arm. Her mother, who had earned her most stable income through being a cam girl. Her mother who had recently become emergency foster mother to the Taaco twins. Twins who were also gathering a long record… or at least a very thick case file.

As far as civil disobedience was concerned, this was fucking perfect.

Snocoun Ton, on patrol with her partner Avi -who had been briefed- with her mother in tow and, because minors couldn’t be left at home unaccompanied, the twins. All three of her immediate relatives had been told that, as a proper Elf maiden, Sno could not upbraid her mother or assist in the parenting of her adopted siblings.

Which meant that all three of them had automatic license to commit any and all minor crimes whenever Avi’s back was creatively turned.

It was only a matter of time before the Chief turned up to see what the hell was going on with them. They had been patrolling some of the better neighbourhoods, filled with the aforementioned wowsers, with La’ming wearing some of her flashier outfits and the twins… just being their adorable hyperactive little selves.

Half the golden street numbers in Elysian Heights had gone ‘mysteriously missing’ inside of the first week. The twins were most upset when they learned that they weren’t real gold. Nevertheless, polished brass still had some interesting-for-children resale value. Which was why the very same walled estate frontages were now gaining a layer of small, sticky, Elven handprints.

The chief arrived in his rolls (the hubcaps would be gone in less than a minute, the figurehead on the bonnet would vanish in another minute) and left its secure confines to talk with his most promising Elven officer.

“Ton! Sno! What the hell is all this?”

Sno had a carefully cultivated air of innocence. Nobody could ever guess it was the cleverest of forgeries. “Chief! What a pleasant surprise,” she saluted. “You’re always saying how officers of the law should follow the law, sir. As an example to all others, I’m following your most recent law, sir.”

“What sort of law makes you drag along creatures like that–” he pointed to the twins, who were using the back of his rolls as a trampoline. “–while you’re on duty?”

“No unmarried Elf maiden may go unescorted through the streets of Neverwinter,” she quoted. “Escorts must be characters of good repute and blood relatives, for example, the maiden’s parents.”

La’ming handed the Chief his wallet back. “You need to be more careful where you put this, sir. There’s light-fingered people everywhere.”

The wallet was, no doubt, lighter by a decent percentage of whatever he had in there.

“Chief, allow me to introduce my mother, La’ming Ton,” said Sno. “And these are her wards, Lulu and Koko. You remember that child abandonment case? Tre Llew-Ddion?”

The Chief’s face was an open book with large print and the current page said, Oh, shit… “The children don’t need to be here.”

“Oh, but they do, sir. My mother is their only recognised legal guardian, and therefore the only figure of custody. Leaving them in the care of unauthorised babysitters would be irresponsible, sir.”

“Daycare places. Exist.”

“Sir! Surely you remember the case file you yourself inspected before passing to me… The twins have had numerous bad experiences with official institution. Leaving them there could scar them for life, sir. They’re best in the care of someone they know who cares.”

The twins, bored of attempting to take things from the Chief’s rolls, started climbing the Chief. Sticky handprints and half-chewed sweets appeared all over his crisp uniform.

“You do have a father somewhere,” he growled.

“My father has never been involved in my life to date, sir. Asking him to get involved now would be pointless.” She faked a bright and vacant smile. “Fun fact, he’s one of the people in the council who helped you write this law.”

“But he’s…” the Chief trailed off. The math came out in his head and the full story was not something he wanted to air. Evidently, an older man could make a baby on an underaged girl and still be a gentleman of standing while the girl herself was criminalised.

“Yes,” singsonged Sno. “And not a penny paid for child support.”

The Chief got back on track. “They’re your family. Remind them of the law!”

“Why, sir… for shame. A daughter has no business correcting her own mother, sir. I’m a mere maiden. I have no authority over my younger siblings. Further, I have no legal hold over what they do.”

Lulu had reached the Chief’s shoulders and took his hat for herself. Koko, soon after, confirmed that the Chief did indeed wear a toupee.

Sno may have won a prize for keeping a straight face under those circumstances.

The Chief wheeled on La’ming. “Madam! Control your brats.”

La’ming took offense. “You mean horrible man, how dare you try to suppress my sweet little baby angels.”

Nobody could cause a scene like La’ming Ton. The twins, of course, fell to the street level, sat down, and started bawling their eyes out. Now any wowsers watching from behind their lace curtains would see the Chief as the bad guy.

That law was going to be stricken from the books in less than another week.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

Half-Elves were “reformed” in the same manner as the full-blooded Elves, but with a generous heaping of “you’re not worthy” type brainwashing on the side.

They were, unfortunately, usually sold off as servants to less than ethical peoples.

Saint Vingo’s was a blot on history for many, and left some lingering scars. Like a lot of lingering scars. An unconscionable amount of lingering scars.

“Miller labs is fine and all, but this Obscura image recording device is kind of… it needs fixing.” Agatha pointed out the blurry pictures that it took normally. “You have to keep it in place for way too long with normal light levels.”

This was when she added what was obviously an adjusted flash bulb. “But with this baby, I can capture all the light in seconds.”

“That… isn’t a Nova Flash,” noted Angus.

Agatha handed him a pair of darkly smoked safety glasses. “You’re going to really need these for my Big Bangs.”

Angus put them on, and experienced total darkness.

Whoomph.

Angus could see the world in a single flash of light. “Holy shit,” he murmured. “Miss Agatha, that’s practically a weapon in and of itself.” He raised his goggles, looking at the shadows lingering on the wall.

“Nova Flashes cause temporary blindness for ten turns. This… lasts an entire hour.” Agatha grinned. “I’m still working on the antidote. Overclocking a flash is easy. Overclocking a potion… not so much.”

“Have you tried a pinch of ground red stone? I saw that in some notes somewhere…” Angus trailed off. Turning towards the doors of Agatha’s lab.

In one, Agatha’s moms were peeking around the doorframe. In the other… Taako and Magnus were having math circulate their heads.

Oh no. Please no.

“Something wrong?” said Agatha.

“Your parents have noticed us,” he whispered. “So have… my crew.”

Agatha looked. “What’s bad about that?”

“You’ll find out,” sighed Angus.

*

All Hearts Day.

A day that celebrated love in all its forms. Familial love, friendly love, lustful and companionable. Couples were wont to pair off and spend the day together.

Angus hadn’t been expecting Taako to make a housecall. He had a rather pretty box and a cultured air of disinterest. “You’re such a nerd you probably don’t care what day it is,” he said, thrusting the box into Angus’ arms. “Here. Share this with your little friend and thank me later.” He was wearing some of his flashiest clothes. 

“Good luck with your date, sir.”

Taako didn’t say anything as he sashayed off.

Angus found out that the Ton family had been equally as insistent towards Agatha. Perhaps more so.

She, too, had a pretty box, but her usual wear of tough canvas pants, hefty boots and protective leathers had been replaced with a frilly pink confection that was overloaded with lace.

“Now I get it,” she said.

Angus sighed and parked himself on the grass of the quad. “Yeah. They’re embarrassing.” He opened the box and looked aghast at the contents. Of fucking course Taako had made Sweetheart cookies. He felt his face heat up. At least the icing didn’t go into realms beyond PG.

“Mine made a cake,” said Agatha. It had icing heart swirls and fresh strawberries and curlicues of chocolate on it. “Gross.”

“They’re the worst,” agreed Angus.

*

Makarune, watching the two on the quad, squee’d. “They’re bonding,” she cooed in a whisper.

Taako, leaning over her, added, “You realise they’re bonding over how gross we are about them, right?”

“I don’t care, they’re bonding.”

“They’re ten. How bonded could they get?”

“It’s still so sweeeet…”

Taako tutted and groaned. “Whatever. I got a hot date. Don’t wait up and don’t get in their business.” Which was as close as Taako was likely to get to openly caring about the proceedings.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 10]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

Still Tumbl'd, Still TAZ - Chapter 68 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

Twins… meet your new brother… Terry “turkey boy” Ton.

Every parenting book written by parents insist that quiet children were automatically getting into trouble. Every parenting book - according to Snocoun Ton, officer of the Neverwinter City Watch - was wrong. There were two states of Lucretia being quiet, and they were: asleep, or reading.

Needless to say, the school had trouble with this.

“She doesn’t talk,” complained her teacher, with the principal as backup. “Her class participation scores are terribly low.”

“She talks to people she feels safe with,” countered Sno. “She’s been through a lot for someone so young, and… if she feels more confident being quiet, perhaps you could find ways to participate that don’t include making her talk when she doesn’t want to.”

The principal, leaning against the wall, said, “I’m not entirely sure she’s reading… exactly. It looks like she’s just… flipping through the books.”

“You haven’t watched her eyes. She’s really reading them.”

Mz Tutta sighed and steepled her fingers. “For her age group, we have to hear her reading out loud for her to advance into later classes. Talking is not only necessary, but also vital for her further education.”

“That’s not fair for mute people,” noted Sno. “Nor any deaf ones.”

“She’s capable of talking,” said the principal. “Therefore, she has to talk.”

Sno did all her grumbling about ableist horseshit before she was within hearing range of the little shelter where Lucretia preferred to sit and read. She had a two-inch-thick tome from some epic sprawling fantasy, and paging through it with her normal rapidity.

She approached with just the right amount of noise. A heavy enough tread to be detected, but not heavy enough to threaten. She stopped just out of arms’ reach and dropped to a squat, waiting patiently for Lucretia to finish the section.

Little brown fingers politely added a bookmark to the places. Beautiful deep, brown eyes paid Sno cautious attention.

“Bad news, Lucretia… They’re insisting you talk. They say they have to keep you in that class until you do.”

Lucretia huffed in exasperation and sighed disappointment.

“The good news is that if you can read out loud for them, they might bump you up to an older class.”

Lucretia’s skeptical glare said that she didn’t think that was good news.

“I know. It’s all horse apples. Unfortunately, it’s all horse apples that we have to put up with. Sorry. How about… I read to you and then you can read to me, tonight. We can cuddle up in the cote and stop whenever we’re ready.”

Nod. This was a good deal.

*

Sno liked thinner books than Lucretia. She read a good section of Wee Free Men for Lucretia. She opened her tome to her bookmark and read, “Teach the ignorant as much as you can; society is culpable in not providing a free education for all and it must answer for the night which it produces. If the soul is left in darkness sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness…”

She read very softly, but she was clearly reading. Competently. Capably. Ably.

If anyone wanted to claim that a four-year-old child had somehow memorised the entirety of Les Miserables, then Sno would have immense fun watching them trying to use this as a reason why Lucretia should stay down with her age-mates.

Sno cuddled up with Lucretia as she read, checking over the little Humanman girl’s shoulder as she read. Her purr started, of course, as she helped steady the tome in Lucretia’s tiny hands. After that began, Lucretia started smiling as she read.

When she finished with the chapter, she leaned into Sno and said, “You tickle.”

“Good tickles?” Sno worried.

Nod. She squirmed further into their embrace.

Sno automatically petted her. “Don’t ever think you’re stupid just because they say so. You’re a clever little girl, and the whole world should believe in you.”

Lucretia took a deep breath and did her best imitation of an Elven purr.

It would be a long time before she would speak freely, but when she did… she would be strong.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

It should have been yet another day in the markets. Taako got distracted by some of the latest gizmos from Miller Labs and buttonholed the salesperson about how exactly their pastry roller could save time and effort when it required three times the messing about than the original pastry.

It had been going on for some time before Market Security turned up.

“Sir,” said one of them. “Your son has been in an altercation with a local gang.”

He never expected his heart to drop like it did. “Where is he? Is he all right?” after half a second to actually think, he added, “Did he win?”

One of the guards handed the other two gold.

“Come with me, sir,” said the winner of the wager.

Taako was wont to walk a little faster than these particular members of the Watch, anxiously looking for any sign of a big trouble.

Burned bunting. Frozen bunting. Some upturned planters. Something had gone down here. Five guys bigger than Ango each were being seen to by Clerics whilst under the hairy eyeball of bigger, burlier Watchmen.

There, in a seat purloined from a nearby furniture store, was Ango. Bruised, battered, a little frost-rimed, but whole.

“Hello, sir.”

Taako felt like he could breathe again. “There’s my beautiful magic boy,” he said, and lunged.

“Oof! Sir… I haven’t had my turn with the local Clerics, yet.”

“Ah, what’s one point in grapple damage?” Taako breezed, pretending to not care but easing up all the same. “What happened, genius?”

Ango cast Mending on his glasses, which were a little warped. “I bumped into their leader as they were lifting some jewellery off the displays, thus revealing their ruse, sir. They took umbrage to that.”

“I’ll take my Umbrastaff to their asses if they try that shit again,” mumbled Taako.

“I don’t think that’s at all necessary, sir.”

“Horseshit,” said Taako, automatically.

“I mean… I did trounce them sir.”

“Sir?” said a Watchman. “The Clerics are ready for your son.”

Ango looked to Taako, who merely deferred a place of access for the priestly sort. He said, “Uh. He’s not my dad…”

“For shame,” Taako mock-sobbed. “Disowned by my own flesh and blood! Why are you ashamed of your old man? Is it because I remarried after your poor dear mother…”

“Sir…” Ango chided.

Taako faked more tears.

He cleared his throat. “Da-a-ad…”

Taako instantly recovered. “I forgive you,” he allowed. He leaned close to that cute little Humanman ear and whispered, “Nice job on the other two chucklefucks, but do not for one instant think I’m that easily gulled.”

They looked each other in the eye. One apprentice villain to an old master. Both were smiling, but in a calculating way.

Ango won, though, with upraised arms and, “Carry me home, daddy?”

Oooh. He was getting good.

At some point down the line, he’d have to explain that the Elven words for ‘apprentice’ and ‘child/descendent’ were one and the same.

Ango was damn heavy and awkward to carry. Despite that, or maybe because of it, Taako caught himself purring for the damn brat. Then he caught Ango’s sly smirk.

Damn kid already knew.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

Angus was allegedly helping Merle with Earl business in Bottlenose Cove. What he was actually doing was essentially imitating Radar from Fantasy MASH. Working out what the Cove needed for its assorted rebuilding projects, making a note of them, and telling Merle a fraction of a second ahead of Merle telling him to do the exact same thing.

Mavis, also trailing in his orbit, was detailing the guilds who could help with everything that needed organising. Meanwhile, Mookie was… just being Mookie.

“Sir you should really warn Mookie about–”

“GET DOWN OFF’A THERE BEFORE YOU FALL DOWN OFF’A THERE I ONLY HAVE SO MANY SPELL SLOTS FOR HEALS, PANDAMNIT!”

“Didja thee how far up I climbed, pop? That wath like two thtorieth or sump’n, wazinit?”

“Yeah you’re a regular Fantasy Sir Hillary. Knock it off before you kill your old man from fright, okay?” He paused for the seemingly mandatory wrestling match with his rambunctious son. “Keep it to heights you know you won’t bust your skull open from, okay?”

Construction sites were a semi-natural playground for Mookie. It seemed like a busted skull would only mildly slow him down.

Mookie took off again at Fantasy Warp Nine, up on the scaffolding with an innate hubris only ever reached by small children who had no idea of how badly the world could hurt, sometimes.

“Maybe you should quit–”

“I aughta quit casting Shield of Faith on the kid,” Merle grumbled as he cast Shield of Faith on the kid. “Teach him a lesson, maybe.”

Anyone and their kid brothers’ dog could tell he’d never go that far. Hekubah would fucking kill him if he did.

A newcomer tapped Angus on the shoulder. An Elven merchant, apparently, leading a camel that was seemingly chewing three bars of soap. “Young sir, can you remind your father that he has an appointment?”

Angus, inlined to his own brand of mischief, smirked and said, “Oh father, dear…”

“What? I ain’t your fuckin’ daddy.”

Right in front of strangers. Angus cried on cue. “How could you be so mean to me, daddy? Is it ‘cause I can’t grow a beard like you?”

Merle caught up with things. The Elf judging him hard, the way Mavis was hiding giggles behind her hand. The distant snorts of Taako, who had an over-the-horizon radar and instant approval for this kind of horseshit. “Aaaah, shit,” he muttered. “He’s not a Dwarf.”

“YOU MEAN I’M ADOPTED, TOO?”

Somewhere, he was sure, the twins were laughing their asses off. In fact, he could hear them. That high-pitched cackle of theirs carried.

Merle took him by the shoulder and glared up into his eyes. “Kid,” he said. “No matter what happens, I still got Li'l Smoosher.”

Angus cut the act cold. “In-joke amongst the crew, sir. I’m actually a humanman boy and no relation to Earl Merle, here.”

“Kids these days, anh?” said Merle. “Ango, you go practice casting Featherfall on Mookie before he hurts himself.”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]