Magnus honestly did not mean to perv. He had successfully avoided glancing at Elven anatomy for three adventures, so far. It was here in this tiny space, changing into their null suits, that his gaze drifted onto what Taako happened to call underwear.

Those were not Fantasy MeUndies. They were panties. Definitely panties. Frilly, lacy, expensive-ass panties.

Well sure, he knew Taako was gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide, but still… panties were a little bit of a shock, all things considered.

“Checking me out, there, lugnuts?” Taako teased.

Magnus went redder than his null suit. Nevertheless, he fought to maintain some kind of composure. “Aw come on. Y’all’ve seen me with my dick out.”

“Much to my regret. You’re furrier than the gorillas in the Fantasy Congo.” Taako, still wrestling with getting his suit open, turned around, revealing that there was a printed lipstick kiss over his crotch and -yes- little satin bows with zero purpose. “See anything you like, there?”

Magnus couldn’t help himself. “I gotta have a pair of those for the next Midsummer Fair. Complete the look from the skin out.”

Taako pretended to retch whilst Magnus helped him open up his null suit. “Puh-leez. As if I’d assault my complete aesthetic with your hairy ass.”

“You didn’t mind my hairy ass in Goldcliff.”

Merle, fighting with how to do his suit back up, said, “I thought we agreed we were never going to mention that again.”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]

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[AN: To save on archive trawling, that one is this thing.]

They came the day after someone else had cleaned up all the mess. The nice thing about putting a new being into the world was that nobody expected much out of you for, like, weeks. On the other hand, hachi machi, it fuckin’ hurt.

Yet all of that was worth it for the incredibly tiny bean nestled in the crook of his arm. Sound asleep and unaware of everything but his Apa’s scent and heartbeat. At least until the invading horde came in.

“Please be quiet. If you wake the baby, we will literally kill you,” warned Krav.

Magnuts entered first, followed my Merle “plantfucker” Highchurch. Tailing behind them was Lup and Barold. All on stocking feet, all in breathless wonderment.

“Oh my gods…” whispered Mango. “Is it baby Angus or baby Lulu?”

Taako was still wiped out, but being catered to hand and foot was helping him rally magnificently. “Meet baby Angus, literally born yesterday.”

A little hand stretched outwards and Mango intercepted it with his finger. That tiny new hand couldn’t reach around Magnus’ meaty digit. Amazingly, this caused the big lug to cry.

“…’s so smol…” he whimpered.

“Yeah, that’s completely normal,” growled Merle, barely remembering to keep his voice down. “What, you expected him to come out instantly ten years old?”

“Oof, gods no,” mumbled Taako. “This was more than enough of a job to get out. I still feel tender.”

“Everyone goes gaga for babies,” Merle complained. “Or should I say ‘googoo gaga for babies…”

Lup just crawled up on the bed with them. “Aaaw… lookit those stiff little half-Elf ears… Do they wiggle and jiggle when he has a little drinkie?”

“What’s the point? There’s babies born every day. Thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands…”

“You’re not stealing my baby, Lulu. You and Barold can make your own.”

“Babies every gods-damned where…”

She glared at him, in between careful strokes of that exposed arm. “How the fuck did you manage to do this before I could?”

“And every single time, oooh, they’re so small…”

“Jealous?”

“…oooh they’re so tiny…”

Lup looked away from him, but couldn’t stop looking at Angus. “…yes.”

“Like you’d want a Fantasy Green Bay Linebacker to pop out?”

“Well… both of us thought it wouldn’t happen, so precautions went out the window and… you know how everyone was in a mood after we won the war…” He shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t attached to the arm holding his baby. “It happened anyway. Will of Istus, I dunno.”

“There’s only so much room, up in there, what the fuck do you expect?”

“Istus should’a given me one, too.”

“Why is it so Pan-damned surprising every single time?”

“You didn’t have a body at the time.”

Angus whimpered. Just a single note of complaint, but it was enough to make the whole room freeze. The whole room except Krav, who got to do the changing and, if things were particularly messy, the bathing as well.

He zoomed in and hovered, watching their son intently. “Is it almost time for Daddy to come to the rescue?” he cooed. “Does my little baby boy want some Daddy cuddles?”

Angus smacked his tongue and remained asleep.

Krav did not deflate. “I made a beautiful baby,” he said, apropos of nothing. “All that hard work was worth it.”

Taako glared at him. He’d been like that for Angus’ entire life so far. “You know,” he said, “as I recall, bone daddy, I was the one doing the hard work. You were just… circling like a vulture.”

“And taking you to prenatal checks, and making sure you had the right nutrition,” Krav added. “And giving you massages and looking after you and taking care of the catbox so you didn’t have to. And I bought us all that baby stuff.”

Taako sighed. “You did, but I still maintain that that wasn’t as much hard work as growing and birthing this little nugget.”

Angus released Magnus’ finger and let out a more determined whimper. Magnuts almost leaped away and said, “I didn’t do it.”

“Now he wants Daddy,” sighed Taako. He helped with the transfer and slumped back into the pillows. He looked imploringly at his sister. “Are you sure you want your own? It’s a rough gig.”

“I’ll take two dozen like that one,” she insisted. “Poop, crying, and territorial husband boasting included.”

Barold, so far quiet and out of the way, turned bright red. He had been married to Lup for fifty worlds, in love with her for over a century, directly in her aura for literal decades, and he still blushed like a choirboy every time her lust was pointed in his direction.

“Good luck,” said Taako. They were going to need it.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]

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You can’t pay for your heart’s desire with your heart. – Lois McMaster Bujold.

Sunlight peeked through the rainclouds, but it was the rain that made Koko aware that he’d survived the spellcasting process. His hand hurt from the bloodletting, and the concrete of the roof had sucked all the body heat out of him. Not the most comfortable sleeping surface.

He sat up, and saw that the sigil he’d drawn in blood and chalk was still steaming a black vapour where the chalk and blood had crossed. It had worked. Every being connected by love would have the same lifespan as an Elf.

Neat.

Maybe.

The spell gave the signs it was supposed to, but he had no actual way to tell if it had worked, despite watching his best Humanman friend age into decay before Koko could legally marry any given sweetheart.

Okay. So that thought didn’t hurt like it usually did. That was… a sign.

It was a sign that the sacrifice was taken, anyway.

He crept back down the fire escape and into the bedroom he shared with Lulu. She was already awake and working on something for Elf Practice. She saw him in her mirror and turned. He saw it in an instant. Her worry. Her fear. Her concern.

None of it made an impact on Koko.

“So what were you out doing?”

“Just an experiment. Dunno if it worked,” he said. He felt no need to conceal the truth from her. His fear about that was gone. “Got into some interesting dark magic, but… There’s nothing to show for it yet.”

Lulu sighed. “You shouldn’t go to classes, today. You got blight on your neck. And… don’t joke about dark magic? It’s not a good goof. That shit’s hella dangerous.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Barry Bluejeans says this. Barry Bluejeans says that. Blah, blah, blah. He’s not gonna last.” Last night, words like that would have stabbed him, through and through, with pre-emptive sympathetic sorrow for his sister. None of that was there now.

“Crass, Koko. Knock it off. Get some rest. Gods.” Some Elves hit their Turbulent Twenties by going edgelord and dark, like Koko had. Lulu met hers with a relentless determination to enjoy every possible instant. Her clothing was bright and shiny and edging towards fluffy glitter princess. Her wardrobe was almost garish. Anything that glittered. Anything that shone brighter than it should. Anything, in brief, that was ultra girly.

Koko, deep into edgelord territory thanks to that asshole Sazed, had an entire wardrobe of blacks and very, very dark greys.

Lulu kissed him as he tucked himself in. It felt like living meat touching living meat. “Just look after yourself, okay?”

“…no reason not to,” he mumbled.

*

The news that everyone could live eight hundred years didn’t spread. Koko was the only one who knew it for weeks. Months. Then little things started happening.

Humanmen on the brink of death, especially dying of old age, started to rally. Started to regain some of their vigour. Humanman children started ‘Slowing down’ as they approached their twenties.

Baby Agnes, now nineteen, was complaining that she’d be an inch shorter than her mother ‘forever’. The twins Ambrose and Aloicious were also complaining that they weren’t growing up as fast as they should be.

They had no idea.

Koko didn’t see any reason to tell them. He didn’t have any real reason to do anything, really. His ability to care about doing stuff vanished with his ability to love. Now… he did things because it was easier than not doing them. He ate, washed, and dressed because it was easier than giving Mom and Lulu a fight about it. He went to Elf classes because it was less hassle than not going. He spoke up about what Sazed did to him because it was less bother than letting that scumbag out on the streets.

He did, however, stop dying his hair. Stopped cutting it, too. It was less bother to do nothing with it than maintain a look. He stopped wearing makeup, too. Stopped giving a shit about the hands-off aura he had once worked so hard to maintain.

He couldn’t care, anymore.

He had nothing left to care with. Emotion was just… out of his reach.

Sure, he could hang out and talk and do all the other things. Pretend to be someone who gave a shit. It was all a farce. He could be friends with Magnus and share jokes with the Pithons and do all the neighbour stuff and even taunt Bluejeans, but…

He was a shell.

A fake, outward play at being normal. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like… nothing and nobody mattered. It was a big old void, and everyone around him was just…

Talking dust.

Everyone was going to live, just like he wanted. His sister could laugh and love and enjoy the company of Bluejeans for as long as she liked, and that… that had been so important, once.

Now?

He couldn’t connect with why.

Every time he tried to feel, all he could reach was… static. Emotional static. Like his heart was just a muscle to move his blood around and keep his brain alive and that was it. He let it. It was less fuss than the alternatives.

Nevertheless, he kept looking over edges, whenever he was near. Like it would be so easy to go over them and, after a brief moment of pain, never be anything ever again.

He always had stuff to do. Arrangements to make. Appointments to keep.

…miles to go before he could sleep…

Besides, he had to live a long life to be certain the spell stuck. If he died of old age at seven hundred and fifty plus, so would the rest of the entire dang world. No further consequences, because love kept growing and spreading. It was just him in a living hell and that was fair.

He suffered, so no-one else would have to.

It was one morning like any other. The sun was turning the sky some neon colours and Koko was idly watching the river from on top of the bridge. Wondering if the spell was truly worth it. If it really would unravel if he stepped off the edge. If it was really worth going to that party like he promised.

Some stranger approached. Tall, elegantly sartorial. Koko would have lusted after him, once upon a time, but his lusting days were over.

“Oi beg yer pardon, young sir,” he said in a ludicrously fake cockney accent.

“Post office is straight down that way,” Koko pointed, “and then hang a left at Nonesuch Street. Can’t miss it.”

“Sorry, Oi’m not lookin’ fer the post office. I want to ask you about somefin you did…”

Koko glared at him. “If it’s about that fucking photo of me sweeping the street, you aughta know that the scumbag who took it is guilty of sexual assault on a minor. I’m the fucking minor.”

“Actually, I’m trying to track down someone who’s violated the laws of the Raven Queen,” he said.

“Necromancy? In this day and age? I didn’t know there was a death police, m’man.” Actually, tracking down death criminals sounded like something vaguely interesting. “Is the horrible accent part of the job description, handsome? ‘Cause that might be a deal-breaker.”

He had a nice laugh. “I know you’re the sacrifice, Koko Taaco-Ton. What I need to know is… was it forced? Or was it voluntary?”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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“Da-a-ad…”

“He’s your dad?”

Nono rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he adopted me years back and–”

“Who told you that you were adopted?” Merle was playing the fool rather well, but this was an old joke from way back.

Nono sighed as the other two chucklefucks took up the goof. This, she decided, meant something approaching war. It did not take long for the opening volleys.

“Hey. Hey. Druid… whatever your name is…”

“Yes, honoured elder?” Ooh! That one made him twitch. He had the signs of someone who’d lived through Saint Vingo’s and that was one phrase she could turn like a knife. Best to keep it for special occasions, then.

For the rest of the time, she taunted him with ‘grampa’ and senility jokes at his expense. She knew damn well that he just didn’t want to bother remembering anything, and therefore didn’t keep track.

“Can you do anything about that big door?” said Magnus Burnsides, big dumb lug and meat shield for everyone else.

“I could play ‘shave and a haircut’ on it,” Nono offered. “It doesn’t have any locks. No handles. Nothing. There’s nothing for me to do on it.”

“Tree shape it or something, I dunno.”

“Yeah, you don’t. Thanks for pointing that out, Lugnuts.”

It was later, Chaos had happened. They were scooped up by the Orc lady and ferried to the moon. Well. Not a moon. A cleverly-made secret base in the sky. Hiding the best that advanced science had to offer. Also people in uniforms and a truly gross feeling in her inner ear.

“So…” prompted Taako.

“Yes, grampa?”

“Use whatever your ninja skills are and find out some shit.”

“Oh, but Papà forbade me from talking to strangers, good gentle sir.”

Glare from Merle. “You can’t be feeling that terrible, you’ve still got a mouth on you.”

“You know they’re not detachable, Papà.”

In spite of how they were feeling, Lugnuts laughed.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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If there was anything Kravitz was certain of, it was two things. He loved Taako with a power beyond his comprehension… and he didn’t want to become his own father. Standing over the sleeping forms of his husband and adopted son just… cemented that into his soul.

He just had very few ideas how to do that. As in, at all. 

Kravitz had been dead for at least two thousand years, and he’d come from a fairly xenophobic culture to begin with. He only had the shakiest knowledge concerning Elves. For two thousand years, he’d only ever met individuals with a life expectancy of only a few more minutes past their introductions.

He hadn’t had to worry about caring for anyone for so long, that he had almost forgotten how to do it at all. Loving Taako was easy. That Elf had made Kravitz do more than feel alive. Taako could talk about what made him happy.

Angus, sweet little half-Elf still scared of speaking his mind… was not that comfortable with making his wants known.

Kravitz decided that he was willing to do anything to help his little family, so he went looking for something to give him more than a little bit of a clue. Which was what had him in one of the greater libraries still existent in Faerun, following the Hunger War.

He found a book, and judged it by the cover, which had How to Care for Elves on there in large, friendly letters. He purchased a copy and immediately portalled back to the home he shared with husband and child and got to studying.

Elves have good reason to be paranoid. Large portions of their history include persecution from other races. Do not allow your Elf to be startled by Humans, Orcs, Dragonborn, Dwarves or Gnomes.

Okay. That explained Taako’s rule of Call First. Kravitz skipped ahead to the cookery section, Popular Elven Comforts. There were some involved recipes in there, true, but the book said Elves had the time to complicate literally everything they did.

The things I do for love…

*

Taako stretched and yawned and smooched his little boy on the forehead. Something delicious was cooking and Taako let his nose lead him to…

Kravitz, with a plethora of scientific-looking equipment, measuring herbs against carob seeds.

It was so adorable that Taako had to watch him for a while. Finally, when Krav stopped to stretch his back and wipe his brow, he said, “What’cha doin’ there, handsome?”

“Um. Showing you I care?” He failed at hiding a thick book under a tea towel. “You already have a secure cote or five and all the safety you could eat, so…” He gestured at some of the completed dishes. “I thought I’d try for some proper Elven nutrition.”

Taako couldn’t not kiss him. Cooking, love, and a certain amount of exertion had made his man nice and warm. His kisses were always sweet. “Babe,” he said, “You know I love you…”

“But…” Kravitz prompted.

“What fucking book were you even reading?” Taako had to giggle. “Half of this shit is festival food, and the other half are jokes we played on the Humanmen, back in the day.” He found the book. “Oh boy.” Flip, flip, flip… “Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy howdy…”

“Everything he knew was wrong?”

“Ninety percent,” said Taako. “That, and I’m literally from a different planet. Most of this don’t even fuckin’ count.”

Angus stumbled into the kitchen, following his nose. “Wow, sir. This is an amazing spread.”

“Everything sweet has been sweetened with honey or maple syrup,” said Kravitz. “I at least knew better than to use sugar.”

Taako still flipped through the pages. “You got a head start on this dude, Bone Daddy.”

Angus had selected something from the ‘joke’ section of the menu. He had half his little mouth full and was busily chewing. “I like this one, sir,” he managed.

“I know five ways to make it much quicker,” said Taako. “I’ll teach you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Dove.”

“For the rest of today, though… I gotta show this book to Lup and Barold.” Of course he had to. They hadn’t had a decent Family Roast sesh in years.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

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It was so late it was early. Merle didn’t mind so much. Late shift was always the interesting shift. He could sleep in the early morning when one of his employees took over. Some time in the afternoon, he’d ferry some homegrown pipeweeds to the dispensary down the road.

For now, though, he was watching customers in the liminal hours going about their business. Like La’ming Ton, fresh from a late-night shoot and looking rumpled from some hard effort as she traipsed through the aisles, filling in orders on a list written by her kids.

The one Merle was keeping his eye on was “Young” Jason Hakniid. A kid who should have got his act together a decade ago, and seemed to be living in an eternal puberty where he got all the breaks and none of the consequences. According to his mother, Susan, he was going to be an Internet star just as soon as someone gave him a break.

Merle figured he was more likely to gain fame as yet another ratbag who caused immense devastation to an entire group of people or tried to blow up a building, rather than finding stardom. For the moment, he was more concerned about the twenty-something Humanman brat helping himself to something he was never going to pay for.

La’ming didn’t notice, but Jason was creeping on her. So Merle got in his way. “Help you with something, there, son?”

Typical of his family, Jason decided to stir trouble. “You better watch that [SLUR], m’man. Dirty [CURSE] like that’ll rob you dry.”

“Seems pretty clean to me,” said Merle. “What makes her dirty to you?”

Jason laughed. “Are you kidding me? I browse through hours of porn starring her ass. She’s a filthy [OH BOY].”

“If your looking at her ass made her dirty, maybe you shouldn’t look at her ass,” said Merle. He held out a hand, “And I’ll be having those three phones you put in your pockets or I’m calling the cops.”

The phones came out and so did some interesting words to turn the air blue.

“You’re on tape, bucko,” said Merle, waddling back to the counter. “Find everything?”

“Finally,” said La’ming. “I never knew I was adopting gourmets when I took them in…” She ferried stuff up to the counter, adding a few things she’d added to her pockets, then checked all her pockets and her bag to be certain. “Yeah, that’s it.”

In the shelves, Jason was carrying on a mumbled diatribe about dirty women and whether or not they should be trusted with children.

“He has neither,” Merle whispered. “Ignore him.”

“Already done,” said La’ming. “Sometimes, I wish I could ignore the whole world when they find me out…”

“…mumblemumble shouldn’t act like a [WHOOPS] on the daily mumblemuttermumble…”

“You have a good night,” said Merle.

“Give my love to Mavis and Mookie.”

“..muttermutter give your love to everyone with two dollars, ya [CRIKEY] grumblegrowl…”

Possibly prompted by this, La’ming added a kiss to Merle’s growing bald spot before leaving for the remains of the evening.

Jason wasn’t far behind. “Frigid [GODS],” he rumbled.

“Empty your pockets and learn to tell the difference between sex workers, there, Junior. LIke, if you got the money, a [GODS] will hand over the honey.”

Jason went on a half-hour diatribe that boiled down to his bemoaning the fact that he never got near a lady’s anatomy, and all the pretty ones thought they were too good for any decent fellow.

“Show me a decent fellow,” said Merle. “You? You’re the next best thing to pond scum.”

Insert half an hour for the how-dare-you rant.

“I apologise to pond scum,” said Merle, ringing up the purchases. “You got no right to complain, pal. You’re paying her rent, you’re paying for her clothes, and you’re filling up her retirement fund. If she wasn’t doing what she’s doing, you’d have to find something else to do with your hands.”

Half-hour opinion about how he should ‘get some’ if he’s paying for everything, then.

“Pal. She doesn’t owe you jack. You choose to pay for what she makes. That’s the product. That’s your fair exchange. Anything else she does is her business.”

Of course, he had another opinion in regards as to women going for assholes rather than decent folk.

“Son,” said Merle, “if that were true, you wouldn’t need the porn.”

“I’m never shopping here again!”

Merle wished him a good evening. Then muttered, “I wish you wouldn’t…”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 5]

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Every intelligent being has milestones of development. Humans have the Terrible Twos, when babies learn that the word ‘no’ has power that they can weild. Elves… have the Turbulent Twenties, when a young Elf learns about the different paces that others, and how very, very long Elven lives are by comparison.

It’s an upsetting time for many young Elves. No less so for Lulu and Koko, who left the standard avenues of education for exclusively Elven ones at the tender age of twenty-five.

Magnus, their best friend and partner in crime, was going to college and spending his free moments talking about some girl named Julia. Hee was making plans for the rest of his life.

…it was depressing as hell for Koko to realise that he had like eighty years left if he was lucky. He was slowly gravitating away from the Scene Look and towards a lot of black and a lot of smoky-eye makeup when he and his twin were selected for special tutoring.

Not only because they were Elves, and had to take their education at a slower pace, but also because they tested high and showed signs of true genius. Their mom was appropriately proud, but… Koko approached the special classes with morbid hostility.

Especially when it turned out that they were going to be taught by a Humanman.

Professor Hallwinter was a stout man, not fat, but definitely stout. He had some muscle under his seemingly permanent blue jeans. He was fresh-faced for a Human, which meant that he was younger than the twins. Except… developmentally… he was miles ahead of them. Humanmen were grown-ass adults at twenty. Elves… were closer to children than adults.

He looked over to Lulu as Hallwinter stammered his way nervously through a formal Elven greeting and an introductory speech about the expected curriculum.

He knew that dreamy look.

He’d had it once before, whenever he looked at… him.

Koko fought to keep him mind on the lessons, the how and why of experimental spell forms. It was difficult with Lulu at the neighbouring desk focussing exclusively on whatever she found attractive about the dude.

He made it all the way to first break, then pulled his sister aside and said, “You know it can’t work, right?”

“What?” she demanded.

“You and Barry Bluejeans. One - he’s your teacher. You really shouldn’t be making sweet with a teacher… Two - he’s a twenty-year-old Humanman. By the time you’re an adult, he’ll be dying of old age…”

Lulu punched him. “Just because you had a bad time doesn’t mean you have to share it with everyone else, goofus. Gods! Lemme have a daydream.”

Koko boggled. “How? You know Humanmen never last. Shit, I’ve been counting the days until that asshole fucking dies since age sixteen.”

Now she shoved him, tears in the corners of her eyes. “WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THINGS?”

“I’m not tryin’a ruin nothin’. I’m tryin’a save you from breaking your heart…” He could feel the weight of it crushing his own. He could see his sister mourning a love that could never happen. He could see Magnus’ eventual grave. He knew… he just knew… he’d live to see the ends of everyone he loved. Avi and Johaan and Magnus and Angus and Agatha and even baby Agnes, and all the Montlings and old Merle from the Bodega and…

Tears were ruining his eyeliner. Everything hurt. The whole world hurt. “It’s not fair,” he complained. “This whole thing isn’t fair. Why do some people only got eighty… or less… and Elves live to like eight hundred… Why?”

The hurt he had never wanted to pass along reached Lulu’s mismatched eyes, too. “Oh, Koko…”

Then Barold ruined it even more by asking, “Hey, are you kids okay?”

Kids. They were just kids. Kids who would live to see their whole world die.

It wasn’t fair.

Something had to be done.

Between one week’s advanced class in magic theory and the next, Koko went budget Goth. He stopped buying the bright, holographic, glittery stuff and went for cheap and black. When he re-coloured his hair, he coloured it a simple black. A common colour from the bargain bins. He bought discount eyeliner and eyeshadow. Common black. One by one, the less than robust Scene clothes vanished from his wardrobe.

Every other spare scrap of money he had went into his studies. Research into obscure and ancient magics. Throwing himself into finding out what had happened to give Elves such a huge lifespan when so many others just… missed out.

He found an answer in legend. After four years of solid effort. Lulu was still crushing hard on a teacher she would inevitably outlive. Barold was headed inevitably towards the age where he would find someone to marry and then have babies with.

Magnus had already married Julia - a woman large enough and muscular enough to bench press him without breaking a sweat - and they were talking about raising their own babies.

Even Baby Agnes was growing up. Flirting at people and getting into fashion and… No. It wasn’t allowed to happen.

Koko put it all together. The legend, the spell… all he needed was the right thing to sacrifice. Something that would last forever. Something that would feed itself. Something he wouldn’t need.

Well. He knew one thing that he would never need to use again. One traitor emotion that had hurt him too hard and he’d sworn off ever using again.

He could sacrifice his heart so that his sister’s would never be broken. It felt… almost poetic. Noble. Perfect.

Now all he had to do was gather the spell ingredients…

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

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Magnus was in a comfortable pocket of warm and, just for a moment, he had to wonder how he got it. Then his noggin caught up with his waking senses and he remembered. He had a room of his own. He had a bed. He had a new family.

…and speaking of…

Dad Johaan was singing. “…the world says hello… you twinkle above us, we twinkle below…” some notes happened thanks to the pots and pans in the kitchen.

Magnus stretched in his bed just because he could. He dislodged his plushie dog in the process. That tore it. He had to get up. Not that that was a horrible thing any more. There was no more yelling. No more being bad.

He padded out to the bathroom and enjoyed free access to facilities that were once rigidly controlled in the foster homes. Soap. Warm water. Kind people who talked about how he made mistakes and how they could all work to make the next time better. He had hit the big time.

Dad Johaan was mixing up stuff in the kitchen as he sang. Magnus joined into the song. “…sabba sibby sabba, nooby abba nabba, le le lo lo…”

Dad Johaan smiled, snagging out the helper stool with a foot and putting the batter bowl down before handing the whisk to Magnus. This was the best, keeping the goo moving while one of his dads worked on the next bit.

“What do you reckon, little man? What’s the best pancakes this morning?”

“Bacon pancakes, makin’ bacon pancakes,” Magnus sang.

“Take some bacon and ya put it in a pancake,” Dad Johaan joined in.

Papa Avi emerged, all rumpled and hanging on to his PJ bottoms, “Bacon pan-caaaaaaakes…” He found the drawstring at last and did it up. “I have to say that there is such a thing as too much bacon, short stuff. You gotta have two berry pancakes for every bacon pancake you eat, buddy.”

“You need vitamin C,” added Dad Johaan. “I didn’t go to a nutrition course to have you, only to feed you bacon twenty-four sev.”

Magnus said, “I can eat like twenty-one pancakes,” as if he really could. He knew what his dads were going to say, so he joined the chorus. “One at a time, little man.”

“I gotta shower, you okay, babe?”

“I think I can survive,” said Dad Johaan. The instant Papa Avi left his sight, he play-acted at growing weak. “Oh no. The love of my life is gone from my sight. My vitality… fading…”

A voice from the bathroom, “Oh give over!” Water started running and Papa Avi started rendering I Will Always Love You. In this case, render, as in to tear asunder. Papa Avi had a terrible singing voice.

That didn’t stop Dad Johaan smiling goopily at it anyway. Magnus was allowed to help with the pancakes, but not the bacon. It spat and neither of his dads wanted him getting fat burns from that. That didn’t stop Magnus hovering like a vulture as the bacon fried inside puddles of syrup.

When Dad got stung, all he had to say was ‘ow’. Magnus had only wondered out loud, once, how much it could really hurt. He’d made the mistake of saying that it couldn’t hurt more than the cigarettes had and Dad had cried almost all day. When Papa came home, he’d heard from Dad and then there had been hugs all night.

Magnus decided not to mention what the old foster homes had done with him, any more. His dads were happier that way.

The bacon pancakes were slightly smaller than the berry ones, and Magnus wanted to complain about that. Bacon was his favourite food group, after all. He wanted to complain, but he wasn’t brave enough to do that yet.

Papa came out again, this time crisp in a fresh uniform and messing with his tie. He looked at the yield and said, “Those bacon pancakes are a little small. Better let him have an extra one when he’s nearly done, eh?”

“YAAAAYYY!” Magnus jumped at the news. Any morning with extra bacon was a good one.

Dad had a travel mug of coffee and a breakfast burrito for Dad, and the lunchbox they had all packed that night. It had some special envelopes inside, with messages from Dad and Magnus each.

“Go get the bad guys, Papa.”

“Try my best, squirt,” Papa ruffled his hair and picked Magnus up for the best bit of every morning. The squish.

Dad and Papa hugged, with Magnus squished in the middle and the world was going to be wonderful for a whole ‘nother day. The only thing that made it better was making sure all the cheeks were smooched, which was another morning ritual.

Breakfast and school and all the other stuff was okay, but this? This was the best.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]

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

[AN: You did read the same story I wrote, right? I can’t cement that kind of Lucas with Sno. However…]

She wasn’t his type. He knew it. She was a ‘column’ while he preferred an ‘hourglass’. Even then, the ones in meatspace were never ‘hourglass’ enough for his fancy. If only he could make animation real… But that was still beyond his scientific grasp.

In the meantime, real women confounded him. They never had the same rule set from girl to girl. They never followed The Game, they never acted like they should. They were never predictable.

Especially this one. Snocoun Ton. She was the exact opposite of everything he wanted in a woman. Flat where he expected shape. Tall where she should have been short. Possessing opinions where she should have been agreeable.

Yet he could not stop thinking about her.

That low fire in her eyes, like a wild storm. Energy waiting to be unleashed, and held back by the thinnest of facades. She exuded unresolved tension and he could sense that it was aimed at him.

He tried to take his mind off it by watching some previews on his computer. She’d never call him back. They never did, and he never minded. Usually, a good half hour’s exposure to proper women - animated women - would scour his brain clean of even thinking about the lady he had been with that night.

Not this time.

This time, the previews included one about history. Sort of. Historical fiction about the xenophobia wars and a Beach Elf torn between two or more loves. The dates couldn’t be right. The Xenophobia wars ended four hundred years ago, but this was set four hundred years ago and was about how they started.

Lucas did some googling and journeys through an extended wiki walk and learned…

She had been right.

She looked just like the maiden in the anime…

The producers had done a lot of homework to set this one in a plausibly accurate time and place. Where things could have taken a different path, if only…

In this show, Fires in Elfington, they bragged about how it was the first Humanman drama to cast Elves in a sympathetic light inside of five hundred years. Lucas absorbed all the extra material they had around on the internet and even managed to catch the premier episode.

He was even more enraptured than before. All they had to do was change the heroine’s hair from deep plum to a fiery red and she would be the spitting image of Snocoun Ton.

Inspired, Lucas decided to see what was available online about her. Just to sate his curiosity and realise that she was not an animated girl come to life.

Oh shit. She might be.

She fought injustice at every turn. Just like the animated Syn’amon. She struggled against oppression and prejudice, just like Syn’amon. She did everything she could for lost, abandoned, or orphaned kids. Just like Syn’amon. She let opportunities for advancement slide by for the greater good… just like Syn’amon.

By three AM, Lucas had seen the second episode of Fires in Elfington, and had developed a raging crush. Not just for Syn’amon, but also for her true flesh doppelganger, Snocoun Ton.

The next dawn saw him scouring the internet for material - any material - about episode three. He was so desperate that he was trawling through the fanfiction already springing up about the show.

Then he found an interesting article. The show creators had looked to real world examples for their characters and… there was a picture of Officer Ton with a small child carried in her coat right next to a picture of Syn’amon nursing a bear cub in a similar pose.

He read every word and saved it into his growing fandom file. No wonder Officer Ton looked like Syn’amon. She was Syn’amon.

When he finally went to sleep, he dreamed of her. Skipping through the mangroves like her animated counterpart, fighting evil. Righting wrongs. Rescuing him and falling in love…

It was a glorious dream.

It was so influential on him that he felt he had to make amends. A big bunch of flowers, for sure. Ladies loved flowers.

He tracked down her precinct offices and asked to see here as soon as it was convenient. She was likely out, busy being a hero. Whilst not exactly rescuing bear cubs from forest fires, she was certainly rescuing the weak and helpless from the forces of terror. Even if they were the more mundane ones, like domestic abuse or fights between different adults. Or saving them from gangs or kissing some guy by the vending machines - what?

He was a stringbean of a fellow. Dark grey skin, pale, pale blond hair.

She looks so different when she smiles like that… he thought. Then, as his brain caught up with current events, Is that my executive assistant?

Officer Ton noticed him, and the smile fell off her face. In an instant, a professional mask was in the place of genuine emotion. It was an expression eerily similar to the one she had worn on their date, the previous evening.

Realisation hit him like a bucket of cold, stale vomit. Oh… He offered the flowers anyway and said, “I came to apologise for being a jerk,” he said. “You were right. You were right about everything. I’m sorry.”

“Uh. Thanks,” said Officer Ton.

Mukaara was wearing casual nerd, instead of the suit he wore on the job. His T-shirt said, I’m not stupid, I’m not expendable, and I’m not going. The jeans he had on were headed slowly towards being disreputable. “Is there a problem at the office, sir?” he said.

Lucas fought with his newfound ethics. He could make one up that would keep Mukaara busy for hours on end, and therefore gain some time with Officer Ton, but… She would not appreciate the ruse. “No,” he said, realising that she could also plausibly kick his ass as well. “I just… I just came to say sorry. I’ll be… working on some stuff by myself. You know how it goes.”

“Have fun, sir,” said Mukaara.

Lucas spent a moment in heartsore agony watching his assistant kiss his crush. Her ears actually flirted with being veretical when she was with him. At all other times, they were pointed down. She was happy. With Mukaara. Not him. “You too,” he said, and meant it.

It was a strange creature that shambled back to his lab to noodle on his random projects. He looked like Lucas Miller, he answered to that name. In all ways but the metaphysical, he was Lucas Miller. Except…

Something enormous had changed. Something profound had altered his soul.

He had found… courtly love; and he was going to use it to change the world.

But first… he just had to order that Syn’amon body pillow cover from Geeklord dot com.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]

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

[AN: *stimming, not stinking. Three Bronx Cheers for autocorrect]

Angus McDonald, fresh adoptee of the Fangbattles, skipped into his new class as if he was walking on air. When he walked out, it was under a metaphorical raincloud and the hunch-shouldered attitude of someone who would much rather be condemned to death than go back into that one room again.

Of course the twins noticed in a cold second, homing in on easy tells like a sudden stillness and quiet in a formerly exuberant boy. Gone was the happy, infodumping chatterbox and in his place was a sullen doppelganger. A ghost that the family had thought they banished with love and encouragement.

Koko and Lulu took him in between them and made an Angus Sandwich with each twin as half of the ‘bun’. They tried purring for him. They tried gently twining the curls of his hair. They tried Being With him. They even tried getting him to blow on dandelion puffs or thistle seeds.

It was no use. Angus had become a block.

It was worse than when he’d been a ward of the orphanage. He’d retreated into himself, there, too… but they expected a modicum of interaction. This time, he’d shut off from even the safest and friendliest interactions.

Koko, the more sensitive of the twins, had tears spilling from his eyes. Fat, thick, plentiful ones that wouldn’t stop. Lulu twirled a lock of her hair and recited the silly name rhyme that used to make him giggle.

“Ango McDango dance the fandango, eat up a mango and tango with me…” she singsonged. “Your coat we can hango up over the frango, this song we have sango for you and for we…”

Not even the vaguest twitch of a smile. This was bad.

They pulled their coats up over their heads and made a sort of coat tent that shut out a lot of light and petted his hands and whispered validation into his tiny, cute, round humanman ears.

“We love you,” and, “It’s going to be okay,” and, “We want to help,” and, when it all got too frightening, “Please come back to us?”

Angus didn’t pet their hands, or say, “I’m okay,” even when he wasn’t. He just sat there and breathed and stared at nothing. Occasionally, he would blink, but he otherwise showed no further signs of coming back out.

Not even 'painting’ his skin with the tips of their braids would lure him back into the world.

Someone tapped Koko on his shoulder. He emerged from their tent and so did Lulu. They were both in tears and beside themselves with worry. It was Miss Mak'arune. Thee nicest, friendliest teacher in the entire world.

“Did you miss the bell? It’s time to go into class.”

Angus moved. He picked up his hands from his knees and interlaced his fingers and squeezed his hands together so hard that the skin went white.

Koko put it together in two seconds. “Did you tell our Angus to have Quiet Hands?”

Lulu had her hands over her mouth. It was like finding out that the Erastide Hare ate unwary children instead of hiding colourful eggs for the spring festival. Or that Father Candles stole the toys of poor children to gift them to the rich. It just could not be possible. “You didn’t,” Lulu felt like bursting into tears and running all the way home. “Please tell me you didn’t. I thought you were nice…”

Miss Mak'arune crouched down so she was on their eye-line. “It’s policy. Noisy hands distract the other students and we have to keep everything in line so everyone can learn. It’s a simple process and it doesn’t hurt…”

Koko was on his feet in instants. “WHY DON'CHA CUT OUT HIS TONGUE 'CAUSE HE TALKS TOO MUCH?” he screamed. “IT’S THE SAME THING!” Then he scooped up Ango into his arms and ran and ran and ran. He knew Lulu would be close behind. That was the way the world worked.

They only got a mile away from the school gate before their legs flagged and the stress of everything overwhelmed them. Lulu found a pocket in the briars where they could hide and at least plot their next move or, like Koko did, just kind of fold up and cry about everything bad that had just happened.

Lulu tried to plot their next move with Koko going to pieces and Angus just… not present. They clearly couldn’t go back to school. Not with a Quiet Hands policy. They couldn’t go home. Principal Davenport would have called their Moms by now. Which meant that they couldn’t go home.

Koko cried himself out and sighed. “Well, it was a nice home while it lasted,” he said. He must have reached the same conclusion far, far sooner than Lulu had. He always went with the worst alternative first, as it saved time. “Where next? Phandalin? Halverdale? North Haverbrook?”

“Home would be nice,” said Mama Carey. Of course she’d found them. She was a Rogue, and knew every trick. Including, as evident, how to sneak up on all of them and listen in to what there was of the conversation. “But I get you’re upset. I’m listening if you wanna talk.”

Angus was still a block, and the twins babbled out everything they knew. It was just as bad as the first days, Mama. Remember when he shut down? Like a whole week and he was just… he was block Angus. Not doing nothing, you remember? It’s happening again 'cause of how they made him do Quiet Hands. It’s evil, Mama. That school is straight up evil.

Lightning briefly crackled behind her teeth. Mama Carey took ten deep breaths and walked off to make a few Stone calls.

“Mama’s here,” Lulu tried. “She’ll keep you safe like last time. Remember? Mama and Mom kept you outta the bad place.”

Angus’ eyes moved, very briefly. He was hiding deep inside, and that was his first peek back into the outside.

Mama came back. She said, “Okay. We’re all meeting up with the Principal, Miss Mak'arune, and Mom, back at the school. We’re going to sort this out for the good of all. I won’t let you get hurt again, okay?”

*

Angus rocked gently in his seat. Lulu and Koko were on either side of him and Mom and Mama were on either side of them, helping him feel safe. He still clutched at his elbows when Miss Mak'arune entered the room and whimpered a little. The twins closed up around him and Koko growled a little.

Principal Davenport sat on a desk and tented his fingers. “Let’s talk,” he said. “I understand that young Mr McDonald has had a significant upset in regards to… quiet hands…”

“It’s despicable,” said Mom Killian. “It’s teaching autistic kids that they can’t express themselves. It’s the worst of oppression.”

“We’re gonna need a week of Intensive Interaction just to get him back to normal,” said Mama.

“Intensive…?” Miss Mak'arune echoed. “I’ve never heard of anything else other than ABA… it came highly recommended in all the papers…”

“Yeah, highly recommended by all those who hate autistic kids,” said Lulu. “It’s people who believe that kids like Angus are burdens who think that that sort of stuff is actually good.”

“Look what it did to him,” said Koko. “He’s blocking the world. He’s scared to say or do anything with anyone or anything.”

“They used to do something similar when he was in the orphanage,” said Mama. “It was horrible. Horrible.”

Miss Mak'arune had gone red. Her eyes were overflowing. “Ohmygoodness, ohmygoodness,” she whimpered. “I had no idea, I’m so sorry. Angus, sweetie, I never meant any harm… I swear. I thought I was doing good. I know I was wrong. Sir. We have to learn better ways. Now.”

Principal Davenport was a man of few words. He listened to all of this with tented fingers and an intense expression. He finally said, “I agree. Let’s listen to the people who know the most about this issue. All of them.”

*

It took a month. One week for Angus to come back into being himself. Three weeks for the moms to gather some experts, books, and evidence, and create a special presentation for the teaching staff at Miller’s.

Angus was a willing participant in some of the Interaction methods. Education about what Stimming was, and meant, and how it was a means of expression for some. How to read an Autistic kid, when they didn’t always show the best of emotions or show them consistently with neurotypical means of reading.

The most important lesson, the best lesson, was that an Autistic kid didn’t have to be a burden, if one was willing to take a journey into their world.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

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