[AN: This happens before the toothbrush incident]

“So-o-o-o… you got a type or what?”

They were on stake-out, with little to talk about any more, so of course the conversation turned to matters of the heart. Avi was very happy with Johaan and wanted to see that kind of happiness spreading around.

“Stop trying to set me up, Burnsides…” Sno peeked through the binoculars. No movement from the guy they were staking out. He was having a quiet night in. Apparently.

“Hey, if anyone deserves some happiness with a special someone, it’s you, buddy.” He added a mock punch. “You’ve been through more than your fair share of shit. You deserve happiness. You deserve love.”

“I can find it on my own. Thanks.”

“At least tell me about your dream date.”

Sno could see him every time she blinked. “Tall. Dark. Nerdy. He’s got this weird laugh and a sorta… skewiff smile. Kind’a awkward, but… honest awkward. The nice guy that doesn’t advertise, you know?”

“Thirty guys at the precinct just lost a bet that you’re a lesbian,” said Avi. “Nerdy types, huh?”

“Yeah. I like me a man with an astonishing grasp of Klingon.”

Avi laughed at that, and the discussion devolved into some areas of nerditry that Avi - a born Jock - was familiar with. But that was the moment that lead, inexorably, inevitably, to one of the most excruciating evenings of Snocoun Ton’s life.

Avi had set her up with a nerd from Miller Labs, a favour he had managed to wrangle after solving some case involving volatile chemicals, smugglers, and a rare species of parrot. Sno had gone along because she thought her partner had somehow found out about a completely different nerd who also worked for Miller Labs.

For a fleeting moment, Sno daydreamed about not having to come clean because the other man in her life had already figured things out for her.

Then Mukaara bowed Lucas fucking Miller into the restaurant seat opposite her and took a seat at a group table with a bunch of other executive assistants. He made sure he had a good view, the rat bastard.

“Wow,” said Sno, glaring at Avi. He was gurning and making positive hand signals through the window like the over-eager puppy he had to have been reincarnated from. “When he said he had someone high up in Miller Labs, I didn’t expect anyone this high up.”

Mukaara, over at the assistants’ table, was watching her over his menu with a devilish gleam in his sky-blue eyes.

“I… thought I’d be getting someone a little further down the totem pole. Like an assistant…”

Lucas Miller spat a little as he talked. “Yes, well. I understand your shock and awe. It’s rare that I meet a lady who’s of the right calibre to date someone like me. I mean. You can’t get much higher in the Miller Labs internal structure without going to my Mom and -haha- that’s my job. Haha.”

“Haha,” echoed Sno, deadpan.

In the window behind Miller, Avi was using his fingers as antennae and attempting a Vulcan salute. He rolled ones for his skill check on the latter. He blatantly mouthed, Talk nerdy nerd stuff.

“But seriously,” said Miller, “I’m a nice guy and -to be humble- one of the top ten geniuses of our time. I’m more than a little particular about the kind of girl that gets my attention.”

Oh shit. Red flag. Abort! Abort! Sno looked to the window for Avi, and only saw the tail end of his scarf as one of the restaurant staff shooed him away from the exterior. Mukaara was talking to a waiter and couldn’t get any of her covert signals.

And worse, she’d paid in advance for the table. She’d better eat here or the deposit would have been spent for nothing.

“What kind of girl might that be?” she cooed, playing nice. Maybe if she played all her cards wrong, she could escape this travesty and never have to contact Miller again.

Miller started waxing lyrical about the women he’d had crushes on since childhood. All of them, Sno noted, owed their existence to cell animation. The few she recognised were all the same type - big-busted, addle-brained, cutesey-wutesy doormats.

Gods, please get me out of here…

*

To think, Mukaara pondered, he had been worried that Sno might start falling for his boss. He should never have been so concerned.

Lucas Miller had a type, and it was generally found printed on a cover for a body pillow. Despite that, he expected any flesh and blood woman to pass a trivia test in order to qualify for his attention.

So far, Sno was passing. When she was allowed to get a word in edgewise.

Mukaara watched the disaster unfold. Lucas had already completely failed to notice Sno’s severe lack of interest in him since three seconds in. Sno’s face was a rictus when she wasn’t desperately mouthing, Help me! in Mukaara’s direction.

Entrees had been survived. The main course arrived with -oh gods- Lucas’ opinion on Elves.

“It’s all well and good saying that terrible things happened in living memory,” he was lecturing, “but Elves live for a million years or more. You guys should take a joke or two.”

“Seven hundred and fifty,” corrected Sno. “Eight hundred if they manage clean living.”

Lucas didn’t appear to hear her. “So what if the Xenophobia wars were in living memory? That could mean a thousand years ago! They ended four hundred years ago.”

“They ended forty years ago,” corrected Sno. “They started four hundred years ago.”

“They need to let it go.”

“Millions died. Elf kind were almost wiped out.”

“Yes, yes, yes… But it happened so long ago. The damage is repaired. The population is back to normal. Almost beyond normal. There’s no more need to keep crying about it.”

Mukaara flinched. Nope. She wasn’t going to hit him, but it was a close thing.

“Trouble?” said Rinnu.

“Almost. If he keeps talking about the Xenowars, there’s going to be.”

“Yeah?”

“Her mother was one of the last casualties of the Xenowars…”

Winces, hisses, and whistling backwards. Something expensive was doomed to happen.

“What about your opinion on Steampunk?” said Sno rather desperately. A safe way to move things to something Lucas loved to do - deliver his opinion.

Sno’s expression ranged from relief through boredom, to being ten thousand percent done with everything that came out of Lucas’ mouth.

On the plus side, that particular classification would not include -say- his teeth.

On the minus side… poor Sno was suffering for a fancy dinner.

He’d have to make it up for her at a later date. Perhaps a marathon session of bad food and worse television and a good, solid session of Mock That Movie.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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If there was any day that would be the worst one for a surprise inspection visit by the Fantasy CPS, it would have to be the day that Taako was sliding inexorably towards a full-on Luume rampage.

He was currently cooking everything in the kitchen whilst Angus, Agatha, and Carey flipped rapidly through reference material, desperately searching for something that would prevent Taako bonding with all the babies in the house. Carey and Killian liked Taako just fine, but not as a co-parent to their own daughter.

Both Orc and Dragonborn had rougher hides, and couldn’t finesse an Elf’s ‘off switch’ like an Elf or a Humanman could. The only other option was one of the children, and by the time he got near one, he would want to grab the other.

“Here it is,” Carey found the passage. “Co-parenting of a child by a more authoritative figure can prevent a parental bond forming in an Elf suffering luume’irma. This is it. One of us goes with and does most of the parenting stuff instead of letting Taako do it all.”

“Or I could just hide,” suggested Agatha.

“No, hon. He’d scent you out,” said Killian. “We’ve seen this sort of thing before. Unless Kravitz turns up to really distract Taako–”

“Gross,” said the kids.

“Yeah, we figured that wouldn’t be an option,” said Killian. “And I don’t wanna disinfect my kitchen again.”

“Babies eat,” singsonged Taako, bearing an overloaded platter of nutritious and delicious treats.

Someone knocked as they barged in. “Fantasy CPS inspection.”

Sniff? Snort. SNARL!

“Oh shit,” said Angus.

Taako quickly put the tray down and leaped over the couch to scoop up the kids, growling at the representative from the Fantasy CPS, and one of the staffers from the very orphanage both kids had come from.

If there was anything that was a worse threat to those children, it would be the slightest hint that they were going back to that horrible orphanage.

Taako lifted one kid in each arm, hissed defiance at the representatives for their alleged welfare, and bounded off towards the backyard, where he had built a cote some years prior.

“Agatha, go limp,” Angus advised.

“Luume?” said the Fantasy CPS representative.

“Luume,” said Carey, lifting up the tray. “I gotta go make sure he doesn’t adopt our kid. Okay?”

They let her go off with a wave of their hand.

Killian, attempting to remain calm, made tea. “So,” she said. “How does your organisation feel about moments of bad timing?

Meanwhile, up in the cote…

Taako sniffed at the entrance. Food. Friend? Friend. Yes. Let friend in. Babies scared. Babies hungry. Babies in danger.

“Bad people near,” he said.

“Ye-e-es,” cooed Carey-friend. “Bad people are near. This is the safe place. This is a good place.” She handed Taako a cake, and gave one to Agatha. “You feed your baby, I feed mine. Okay?” She urgently whispered, “Don’t let him feed you. Always look to me for that ‘kay?”

Agatha nodded, taking the cake from her Dragonborn mother’s hands.

Taako knew he could groom both babies, that was good. He could sniff and worry and guard. That was… allowed. He could feed his baby and keep him arm and comfortable and that was very good. He could purr up a storm for the three of them. And if he saw even the slightest hint of the dangerous outsiders, he would occupy the entrance and threaten them until they went away.

That was excellent.

*

Agatha stayed glued to Mom’s lap or wrapped around her arm if a lap wasn’t available. The passages she read had said she had to make the belonging clear to a being whose mental capacity was diminished at best. Mom was cool with it, always keeping at least one limb wrapped around her.

The cote was comfortable, Agatha knew. She used it as a treehouse once or twice. The food was great - of course it was, Taako had made it. Much though she loved Mama Killian’s cooking, Taako was the best chef in one hundred worlds. He did actually make the best stuff. Even when Int and Wis were his current dump stats.

She got to chatter - quietly - with Angus about how their home lives were so much different now that they had a home. How worried they were about Fantasy CPS and the orphanage taking them back.

At that point, Taako wrapped himself around Angus and groomed him towards calm, purring as soothingly as he could. Mom Carey had her own Dragonborn purr, too, and rocked Agatha in her arms as she singsonged, “We burned the receipts, you can’t be returned, it’s going to be okay… Mom’s gotcha. Mo-om’s gotcha…”

Agatha held hands with Angus as the conversation turned to whispers. Finally, as the moon shone between the woven branches, Mama Killian strolled into their yard. “They’re gone. You’re all safe now.”

Taako sniffed the air, snorted, and murmured, “Danger…”

In the end, it was a sleepover and campout. Mama brought up pillows and blankets and some fairy lights, and snuggled with Mom while they both held Agatha safe between them.

Angus curled up safe in his Papa’s arm, with Taako purring in his ear.

It was a good night.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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…in another reality, a fragment of the one we know…

Growl… Taako rather insisted that Mrs McDonald remained upright.

“None of that nonsense,” said Mawlitt briskly, levering Mrs McDonald’s feet out from under her. Or at least, that’s what he tried to do. There was a blur and a snap, and a sharp sensation of pain in his left shoulder. And a blood-soaked Elven face in his.

“Need. Safe,” Taako growled.

“Sir…. sir… deep breaths, sir. Dr Mawlit is here to help.”

The growling continued like a burning fuse. The sort of growl that starts in the back of one throat and ends in someone else’s.

Mrs McDonald shrieked. “It’s… coming!”

Grrrrrrrrooooowwwwllllll…

“Sir, it’s okay. I won’t let the doctor hurt her.”

The baby was out before he could think of dressing his own wounds. Something Mr McDonald was there to help for. The important part was hale, hearty and crying.

“Baby eat,” was even more disturbing with the slow fuse of growl underneath it. 

Mawlitt let that distract the Elf in the room and got out the forceps and special scissors. “Now to cut the cord…”

There were sharp, Elven teeth in his wrist this time, holding forceps and his hand away from the trailing cord. The growl intensified with flecks of foam. Mawlit was close enough to see murder in those suddenly-thin slits.

“Sir, no!” Mr McDonald put himself between Taako and Mawlitt.

“Ba– baby? Threat! Threat! Babies. Threatening babies!”

Mawlitt figured it out. No bladed instruments. Right. He moved his more imposing obstetrical arsenal well out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

“No threat,” he assured. “Help babies.” He bandaged his right wrist. “I’m using the clean hand, to help with the afterbirth. Okay. No hurt. No threat.”

Taako yielded grudgingly, growling the entire time and poised ready to strike if the slightest hint of trouble glimpsed his way.

Whoops. That’s a second baby… He got the kid oriented the right way with a gentle shove. “Ms McDonald,” he said, “You’re going to have a twin.”

Taako was suddenly happier about life in general. “Babies,” he preened. Then returned to growling slightly softer at Mawlitt.

“He is going to be intolerable,” she complained between pushes.

“He is never going to shut up about this,” agreed Mr McDonald

Twin number two entered Mrs McDonald’s arms and Mawlitt found himself pushed forcefully towards the exit by a pissed-off Luume-addled elf. Just as those sharp, sharp teeth drew closer to his neck, rescue came in the form of Kravitz Reeper. “Hello, Dove. Don’t bite the doctor.”

Agatha squirmed past squeaking, “Babies! Babies! Grampa was right! There’s twins!”

Mr McDonald stage-whispered, “We don’t need to encourage Grampa…”

Mawlitt would be grateful when civilisation reasserted itself. Fortunately, he was plenty distracted by the husband cleaning blood off of his face.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

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Lucretia had just turned five when the Event happened. She had a few words that she would use when there were no alternatives, but this was not one of them.

“Mom!”

The twins came running, so did Gramma La’ming, who Lucretia secretly called ‘Gramming’ in her occasional playful moments. Not that she said that out loud. She rarely said anything out loud.

Her extended, adopted family were careful to circle around so she could see who was coming even when all her attention was transfixed on the TV, and the news it contained.

Her adopted mother was on the TV. Slowly approaching some house in suburbia and she had her vest on and her hands empty. Lucretia could read the crawler. She could read all of it.

Hostage situation in lower east end, was the main one. There were also words that zipped by like gunman, and drug bust gone wrong, and possible fatalities. The twins knew what was up.

“You need a hug?” offered Koko.

“You need a Sammich?” said Lulu. It was family shorthand for both twins holding her like comforting brackets.

“Sammich,” she nodded. She didn’t close her eyes as the twins squeezed in, keeping her eyes on the screen for any hint of what her mom was doing. Gramming patted her lightly on the head as if to say, I will be right back with what you need.

In a moment, she heard the dryer going and smelled the special hot chocolate. Therefore, in just a few minutes, there would be warm beverages in all hands and a warm blanket tucked around all three of them.

“Aunt Sno knows her suff,” said Lulu. “She’s gonna be okay.”

The words zipping across the screen said, Armed gunman allegedly high on Bad Dreams, a dangerous new drug on the streets of Neverwinter. Lucretia couldn’t listen to any of the words that the people were saying, no matter how clear their speech nor piercing their voices. Her attention was fixed firmly on the scrolling words and the tiny blue figure in uniform, whenever she turned up in the shaking camera’s view.

She was glas of the hot chocolate and the warmth of the blanket when her mom stepped inside the building.

“She’s got this,” repeated Koko between slurping at marshmallows. “She’s got this sewn up…”

“It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna all be–”

The popping noise sounded clearly above the on-scene commentator. The camera view shattered into a flurry of blurs and incomprehensible movement. The twins had hands over her eyes and over her ears, but it was too late.

Shots had been fired.

Every cop’s kid knew what shots fired could mean.

Lucretia clawed at the twins’ hands, screaming, “No, no, no,” over and over. She was screaming. The twins were screaming. Gramming was screaming. Even Aunt Mak’arune was screaming. They were all so loud that the Pithons came down from upstairs, one of the Montlings in their arms, to see what the ruckus was.

They let Lucretia hold the baby instead of the hot chocolate. Something about a small and helpless being in her arms provided an oasis in a sea of emotions. The TV was showing the house, at an even worse distance than previously. The words, Shots fired! crawled across the screen. Endlessly.

Some more people in uniform rushed in. There was no sign of anyone for too long. Koko’s hair had frizzed right up out of stress and Lulu’s wasn’t far behind. Lucretia knew, without a doubt, that if it wasn’t for the little Montling in her arms, she would be a total wreck.

Then, like a miracle, a blue figure in uniform walked out. There was a human-sized bag on a stretcher, and some other people with blankets around them.

Lucretia paid all her attention to the blue figure with blue hair. “Mommy… mom…”

“She’s okay,” Lulu cheered. “She’s okay, she’s all right!”

Someone - probably Uncle Avi - leaped on her from amongst the wall of uniforms keeping the public at bay, landing in a hug.

Mom gave him a noogie and shoved him away in the way that she always did for Uncle Avi.

Then they cut away to a Porky Pig cartoon.

It was over. Mom was okay.

When Mom came home, she was mobbed by family. Lucretia wrapped herself around her legs, and the twins only added to that burden. Gramming and Aunty Mak’arune all but tackled her in the doorway. There were a lot of tears.

The news, much cut down to a five-minute segment about drug violence in Neverwinter, had everything boiled down to the essentials. It held no horrors for Lucretia. Not any more.

Mom held her on her lap, that night, feeding Lucretia because she wouldn’t let go. Just like it had been for the first couple of days in Mom’s care.

Mom kept holding her, kept kissing her forehead, kept purring, and kept saying, “It’s going to be okay. The Chief has seen to it that I shouldn’t be in that much trouble any more. We’re going to be okay.”

Tomorrow, she might believe it.

Two days after that, she learned that there had been a kid at the scene. A tiny scrap of a boy who had also run afoul of the Foster system and had been found in a literal doghouse after all the news cameras lost interest.

His name was Magnus, and Mom was pulling some strings to have him fostered with Uncles Avi and Johaan.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

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It had taken Angus an entire year to talk freely to his dads. When he did, he expressed his worries about his one friend in the entire, dingy, dismal, depressing grey coldhouse that was the orphanage.

Her name was Agatha Tremaine and she was maybe a year older than him. She smuggled the outdoors inside for Angus, much to the horror of the nurses and the consternation of Mr Thud. They never could prove that she was the source of dandelion flowers, stick insects, or grasshoppers that managed to turn up in Angus McDonald’s presence and he never ratted her out, no matter how much time they made him sit in the Quiet Room.

This caused Papa some immediate concern, and the rest of the family some Stone calls. There were a lot of Stone calls.

There were more than a few moments when Angus feared he had done something wrong. A feeling that was quickly dispelled by one or more of his new family scooping him up into a reassuring hug.

Then came the Trip.

Papa and Dad and Aunty Lup and Uncle Barry all piled into the cart with him and Garyl took them on a whirlwind trip. But they weren’t taking a trip to Neverwinter.

Angus fought past his elective muteness. “Sirs. This isn’t the way to the orphanage…” He pointed the way they should have been going. “We’re headed the wrong way.”

“Right and wrong, baby,” said Papa. He wrapped an arm and part of hus ruiana around Angus. “Yes, this is not the way to the orphanage. But no, we are not headed the wrong way.”

“This is the way to the Aunties Fangbattles’ place…” said Angus.

“Correct again, little buddy,” said Dad.

“You said we were going to see Agatha.” Just like that, the pieces slotted into a bigger picture. “Did Agatha get adopted by my Aunties?”

Uncle Barry handed Aunty Lup five gold. She laughed and said, “I knew you were a smart little cookie, kiddo. You got it in one.”

The Aunties Fangbattle - also known as Team Sweet Flips - had a little country cottage with a neat little garden that always seemed to be full of flowers. Angus liked the times he got to stay with them because he could help out with the chickens and play with the butterflies and birds that were too bold to fly away from his careful touch. They always had warm bread or a gooey sweet pie fresh out of the oven.

This time, the cottage looked quiet and still. Even the birds refused to coo or call from the branches of the fruit trees. No butterflies spread their wings in the sunshine. Therefore he feared knocking on the door.

Dad did it instead.

Aunt Killian opened the door. “Oh great. You’re here.” She turned and called, “Agatha…”

There she was. Hiding under the table and clinging to furniture legs like a prisoner at the bars.

Angus was over there before he could blink. “Hey, remember me?”

Her dark eyes were fearful. “Angus? They said you died.”

He knew who ‘they’ were. The bigger kids. The mean ones. “You know they lie.”

She crawled out to hold him, and this was the first time Angus remembered being bigger than her. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I’m glad you got a family,” said Angus.

“Are you kidding?” she whispered, “That’s an Orc and a Dragonborn. They’d eat me if I fatten up…”

Angus detected the not-so-subtle influence of Them again. He joined her under the table and had a hushed conversation while the grownups talked grownup things literally over their heads.

“They’re careful with you, aren’t they?” he asked. “They’re not rough or mean.”

She had to agree.

“They’re kind, right? They try to make things right by you.”

Another nod.

“They keep making better food so you can have enough to eat?”

“They wanna fatten me up…”

Angus had to think his way around that one. “You know… if you’re strong, you can run off if they start measuring you for a basting pan.”

She snorted at that one. “I gotta admit their pies smell delicious.”

“So have some, pumpkin,” Papa had a small plate with a slice of rich, glistening pie and a fork. “This one’s one of my recipes, so you know it’s great.”

“Yeah, and it’s my herb and spice mix that makes it even better,” said Aunt Carey.

“Excuse your scaley ass, it’s the gravy recipe I got from my mother,” objected Aunt Killian.

Angus giggled. “Anyway. If they’re going to eat any kids, they’d be after my marbled flesh, not yours.”

Agatha relented, and started to eat without fear.

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[AN: Oh, I could kill y’all with so much angst on this, but nah. We can pretend that Elven biology actually accommodates the horseshit I put into the preamble of Warp and Weft. Let’s go with that.]

Five Months After Story and Song (ASS)…

Taako was wiped the fuck out. This business of his was exhausting. Worse than exhausting. All he ever wanted to do was sleep.

Unfortunately, one of the chucklefucks he’d spent an entire century with and then some, was attempting to batter down the door.

“Taako,” bellowed Magnuts. “Come on, we got a mish!”

“Open up, glamour boy.” Oh shit, it was the alleged cleric.

Taako fought the gravity well of the couch. It would be so much easier if he could use magic, right now. “Fuck off,” he hollered, barely hauling himself up into a sitting position. “Your glass cannon’s out of fucking order.”

Now both of them were using all available fists to thunder on the door. “Taako, stop dicking around!”

Taako growled and levered himself up from the couch. These assholes wouldn’t take ‘fuck off’ for an answer. He shuffled up to the door and opened it between peals of fist-driven thunder. “Your glass cannon,” he repeated, “is out of fucking order.”

“WOAH!”

“Holy shit, you’re pregnant?” Magnuts reached for the bump, but stopped when Taako took a step back.

“Yeeah keep your grubby paws off the alleged precious cargo, there, bullmoose. I’m off adventuring for seven more months and prob’ly more than that. You know pregnant Elves shouldn’t do magic.”

“But… you’re a dude, dude!”

“Yeah, not all dude. It happens with Elves. Not so much with Humanmen.” He didn’t exactly let them in, just shuffled away from the door towards the most convenient privy because getting up meant he needed to pee.

The little nugget within decided to help add pressure on his bladder by dancing on it. On one hand, painful. On the other, sort’a helpful in a way.

When he got back to his nest, Magnuts had some reheated nutritious treats and Merle had some pungent tea.

“I know. It smells like ass,” Merle began.

“Your ass. After an arbour ardour sesh,” said Taako.

“Think of it like medicine,” said Magnus. “You need your natal vitamins.”

Taako growled audibly this time, ears flicking right back. “You’re almost as bad as my actual family.” By which he included Lup, Barold, and Krav. “All three of them are on my nuts twenty-four sev.”

“Looks to me like someone was on more than your nuts,” said Magnus.

Merle waited until Taako was trapped in a chair before he urged a cup of the tea on him. “Drink the ass tea or I’ll tell you all about my sordid affair with a philodendron.”

That fuckin’ worked. Taako shuddered at the aftertaste. Already reaching for the tasty treats to clear his palette. The next thing he knew, he had four grubby chucklefuck hands on his spreading middle.

Magnuts had tears in his eyes. “It’s kicking…”

“Yeah, the little nugget does that a lot,” grumbled Taako. “Please tell me you washed your fuckin’ hands before laying them on me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Antibacterial and all that shit,” said Merle. “You’re fine.”

“Apart from the bit where I got you two idiots groping me…”

“Did Krav help make this?” said Mango.

“No, I held a fuckpile and you weren’t invited. Of fucking course Krav and I…” He had to giggle. The baby was tickling him. “My other name for the nugget is ‘Serendipity’…”

A happy accident.

They hadn’t meant to make this life, but they wanted it.

“So… actual names?”

“I get to name any girls, but Krav gets to name any boys. So… Angus or Lulu. I already got checked out by a competent Cleric and… uh… it’s the first single birth in like a hundred generations of my family, so… It’s the ultimate coin toss.”

“You’d really name your baby after your sister?”

“Shyeah! She’d fuckin’ kill me if I didn’t.”

Mango insisted on talking to Taako’s baby bump. “Whoever you are, I will protect you.”

Merle, a little more grumpy about it, said. “Yeah, I’ll even learn to be a competent Cleric so I can heal it.”

Taako muttered, “You two get any more cute about this and I’ll throw up on you.”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

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Something… missing. Something wanting. Something gone. Something he had to search for. Something he had to find. Need. Needing hurt. Want. Wanting hurt worse.

Scent. Track. Find. Find baby. His baby. Taako crept closer. Baby sleeping. Quiet. Baby needs sleep. Sniff…

Baby sick!

Taako crept right up to his baby. Sniffing and carefully feeling. Much bad. Hot baby. Exhausted baby. Bad bed.

The thing people forget about the simplified form of the three classes of Luume - fight, fuck, or feed - is that ‘feed’ includes every form of nurture…

Taako lifted Angus - his baby - off the Humanman bed and, stripping most of the boy’s clothes off as he went, carried his baby (a young man, now, but that didn’t matter to Elven instincts) to a cote with a nice through-breeze in the summer.

Careful lips to his boy’s forehead. Still too hot. Need cold magic. Need good food baby will eat.

Ray of frost chilled off the ceiling and sent coolness drifting down on his baby, and Taako purred to hear the sigh of relief from his boy.

Not done yet. Good food. Soft food. Soup! Plenty good things. Ginger. Garlic. Chicken. Vegetables. Herbs. Lots and lots of herbs. Good food makes for better baby.

Poor baby.

Baby needed him.

Taako took a healthy portion into the cote, to a nook charmed to stay warm where at least one cat usually nested. Taako hissed at the one there to drive it off and make room for the soup. From there, smaller bowls of it would be used to tempt baby into eating.

“…sir, please, I’m not hungry.”

Taako didn’t have many words. Not at the moment. “Baby eat,” he cooed. “Strong baby. Good food. Strong food.”

“Sir?” Angus blearily peered into Taako’s eyes, then slumped back and sighed, “Oh no. Not this again…”

“Baby eat?” It was a very small bowl. No trouble for baby. Mostly liquid. Nothing too hard to chew.

Sigh. He accepted the cup and sipped. Carefully. He winced when he swallowed.

Taako pressed his lips to his baby’s brow. “Too hot,” he complained. He found water, found a cloth, and washed down his child. “Poor baby… Sick baby…”

“I just want to sleep, sir.”

Taako uged the contents of the bowl on his baby. Stayed close, but not close enough to crowd or overheat him. He purred a soothing rhythm as he watched and waited for his baby to stir on his own. From there, he would offer another bowl of soup.

In between times, he would wash his baby and purr and maintain the chilled ceiling. Once or twice on the half hour, Taako would press his lips to Angus’ brow to check on his fever.

A fever that broke sometime before Kravitz returned from his work.

Taako purred a little louder the instant he saw his chosen mate.

“Hello, Dove,” his mate murmured. “What’s happened?”

“Sick baby,” Taako cooed. “Won’t eat.”

“I’ll help. You rest, love.” Kravitz ran his chilly hands over Taako’s face, then rested one on Angus’ still-warm brow.

“Th’nk you sirs,” Angus mumbled.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 5]

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

They were having a parents’ day in the park. Merle had custody of his kids for the weekend and La’ming… La’ming was learning to be a decent parent by studying others.

Most of the others here at the play park were nannies who didn’t speak the best of Common and used playtime as an excuse to gossip.

Merle… Merle wasn’t much better, but at least he knew something about parenting. Something - even a bad something - was better than nothing. FOr example - Merle sunbathed while Mookie threw himself around the climbing gym like a dervish and Mavis took turns on the swings or the monkeybars. His parenting involved occasional interjections involving the word "don’t”.

“Don’t wrassle kids below your weight class, Mookie…”

La’ming, using his example, kept an eye on the twins and was ready to bolt straight for them if there was the slightest hint of trouble. She also had all the approved snack foods so they’d have plenty to eat.

Food security was still a big thing for them.

Right now, though, the twins were building a sandcastle with one of the smaller, younger children. One would invariably defend the pile of sand from Mookie and other kids who liked to stomp on sandcastles.

That was when she’d need to step in and mediate. Get all involved parties to talk it out instead of fighting it out. Assuming they didn’t talk it out without prompting.

“First kids always make for an anxious parent,” said Merle, apparently from his coma. “You’re always worried about being a failure. Trust me. Kids aren’t that delicate.”

Yes they are, she thought. “I abandoned my first kid with my parents when I was Seventy-two. These are the first kids I’ve actively tried looking after. That I haven’t given up on.”

“Seventy-two? Isn’t that like… way too young to have a kid?”

“Yeah. Like a Humanman sixteen or something.”

“No blame on that one, then,” said Merle.

“Tell that to my daughter. My parents are assholes.”

There was an extended silence between the two of them. Not absolute silence, since they were seated by a playground, but they were quiet. The kids continued shrieking and yelling at each other as they expended all their energies in assorted games.

“Sorry about that,” said Merle. “I assumed…”

“Many do. I don’t talk about it a lot.”

“She doing okay, now?”

“Yeah. We’re almost on speaking terms.” She twitched as Lulu fell off a swing, but relaxed as she rolled and recovered her feet. She’d intended to do that, the little daredevil. “I know how bad it can get. What I need is… how to not get there. You know?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know that one. Their mom and I never got along, and… The last straw was Mookie crying because we were whispering at each other. Can’t wake the baby, y’know? So we fought in whispers so the kids…” he sighed. “Didn’t work. So after we got him settled again, I asked, Would you be happier if I left? And she said ‘yes’ and we tried to handle the divorce like grown-ass people. I send her what I can spare and I live in this little room in the loft to save money and… The kids are the most important part. You do what’s best for them.”

At Seventy-two, that had been leaving her baby with the only people she could rely upon to care for her. Now that she was two hundred and thirty… it meant doing everything in her power to make sure something like that never happened again.

“I can make sure they have what they need,” she said. “I got that covered.”

“See? You’re already doing better than like half of the other assholes out there.”

“I already love them to bits.”

“Now you’re up to seventy percent,” said Merle. “Most parents I get in the Bodega? They treat kids like a chore. Something they gotta do and something they gotta put up with like they’re obligated. Not a lot of love.”

Mookie took a tumble off the high bars, landing sort-of okay, but scraping his leg on something under the sand. He stood up and blood started snaking down his leg.

“Duty calls.” Merle got up and cheered Mookie for not breaking his fool neck, and ran a minor healing spell over the injury. “No battle scars for you, champ. But let’s find that sharp thing so nobody else gets hurt.”

Mookie started digging like a dog and making vroom noises while Merle was a little more sedate and cautious. It was a sharp rock, not a piece of glass or a needle, thank the gods.

La’ming toured over to where Koko was helping another kid with their sandcastle. She said, “There’s sometimes sharp things in the sand, so you make sure the littles use their tools so they can play safe.”

Koko said, “You can stop fussing, mom. We’re fine.”

She almost floated all the way back to the bench. Mom. He’d called her Mom.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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

Elven reformation projects are a great deal more effective when there are actual, decent Elves involved. At minimum, survivors of worse reformation projects are vital.

Which was just one of the reasons why Lup and Taako were running a Teaching Kitchen just off from the Le’Vine Reformatory. The Elf in charge, named Schadoq, had said that it was an excellent training opportunity. He said a lot of things. Things like “protecting virtue” and “moral backbone”.

It put Taako’s hackles up, but, after an inspection of the facility, he hadn’t found anything untoward.

The inmates were quiet and reserved. Lup expected that. They had been quiet and reserved after they’d got out of Saint Vingo’s… for all of six months. The key was to be quiet and kind and gentle until the kids got bold enough for some lip. That was how you could tell they trusted you.

They each had a bracelet that -on an arcana check- was a health and welfare tracker that took note of all their biosigns and reported to some office somewhere.

It seemed above board. It seemed nice enough.

Until the day that one of the kids, Roshi, started panicking as his bracelet started beeping. “No, no, nonononono… It’s too soon! Don’t put me in the dark!”

“What the shit?” said the Twins together.

Taako put his work down, wiped his hands, and gathered the kid up. He was only seventy-five. “Hey, hey, homes. Take it easy. What’s the fuss?”

“That’s the Luume-alert,” said an older kid. Closer to Ninety. “They take us away to somewhere we can’t hurt ourselves. So we can stay pure. It’s hell.”

Taako fought to purr for this stranger-child. Reaching for the kid’s ‘Off Switch’. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he crooned. “We’re outside of the spells, here. You’re okay. I got’cha…”

Lup subtly got out her Orb of Recall and said, “So Kaar… this place they send you to when you’re in Luume. What’s it like?” she tried to stay casual, but memories of Citron and the horrors of Saint Vingo’s kept bubbling into the back of her mind. It was really hard not to let her anger out.

She wasn’t angry at these kids. She was angry at the situation they were in.

“It’s nothing,” said Kaar as Taako showed Syr how to use the massage points to soothe another Elf into a happy torpor during their Luume.

“It’s okay. We won’t narc,” said Taako.

“No. It’s literally nothing,” said Kaar. “There’s no light, no heat, no cold, no feeling. No sound, nothing. It’s pure nothing. And we stay in there until the Lull hits.”

They knew it immediately. Citron’s Malevolent Sensory Deprivation. She had used it in Saint Vingo’s to punish. Now it looked like Schadoq was using it to ‘save’ these kids from their own biological necessities.

Taako was on his Stone. “Hey, Luce, did you know that scumfuck Schadoq was using a Vingo’s spell on kids in Luume? No? Let’s send some teams down like the vengeance of the gods…”

“Koko?” said Lup. “How about we teach these kids some creative use of level-appropriate spells…?”

It had been quite some time since someone last trashed a place like Saint Vingo’s. It would be quite some more time before anyone else would get the opportunity.

Vengeance was a dish best served cold, that was true. It also went well with generous sides of flames and tentacles.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

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

[AN: As part of April Fools’ (which was yesterday here in Aus), @dualityandsuch and I swapped roles. She was the writer and I was the artist. None of y’all noticed so I guess that was a flop]

They called the Snocoun Ton from another reality Alter-Sno. It saved everyone the fuss and bother of saying “Sno from another reality” all the time. Alter-Sno had come from a vastly different Faerun, with vastly different technology, which she had in her possession.

The operative word, here, being ‘had’.

Because Taako had managed to filch her peculiar Stone of Farspeech and was now twiddling around with it and figuring out how it worked.

“Uuuh, Taako? Maybe you shouldn’t be messing around with that,” Magnus worried.

“Eh, if she wanted it kept away from us, she wouldn’t have kept it in her pocket like that,” murmured Taako. “Ha! What a loser passcode. Who the fuck uses 1-2-3-4?”

“I gotta change my luggage lock,” said Magnus.

“Don’t bother, I only take what I n–” The rest of his thought went unspoken. He had found something… interesting. Or, by the expression on his face, horrifying.

Magnus peeked. “Holy shit…”

On the screen was a six-year-old Taaquito showing off a gap in his teeth, next to someone who looked remarkably like La’ming Ton, over in the Dirty Tricks Department.

“Aaaw, you’re an adorable kid,” said Magnus.

Taako moved his finger across the Stone, showing an image of Merle being carried Fantasy Yoda-style across some finish line by a sweaty and triumphant La’ming. There was another swipe, and Avi with what looked like a six-year-old Magnus. Another, and there was a miniature Lucretia in a sailor-suit school uniform.

Another, and Merle was on a platform, clad in skin-tight exercise shorts, his hairy back to the camera and flirting over his shoulder at the person taking the shot. Kneeling beside him was La’ming, looking suitably proud of herself whilst presenting Merle to the viewer.

La’ming was in track pants and a loose shirt. Merle was wearing the aforementioned shorts and a criminally short sleeveless top.

“That is more hair than should be allowed on a humanoid,” noted Magnus, who had seen far too much of it on various occasions.

There was another. Little Taaquito photobombing Merle as Santa and La’ming as a Candlenights Elf. He was wearing a shirt with the legend, Where the Elf are my presents?

“Holy shit,” they said together, stopped in the middle of the quad and looking from the Stone to Merle, and back to the Stone again.

“Something horrible had to have happened to Mak’arune…” murmured Magnus.

“Fuck her, something horrible must’a happened to La’ming…” said Taako. “How the fuck else could she stand to be near such a horrible misshapen joke on the rest of the Universe?”

“Worse than that,” said Magnus. “He’s your dad, dude.”

Taako’s hair frizzed right up from stress shortly before the Elf himself fainted dead away.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 5]

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