There were many differences between Snocoun Ton’s home dimension, and the one she found herself currently trapped in. The ages of her friends and family varied wildly, which had made for a very unusual Luume. 

This dimension also seemed to lack cell phones for some reason, which is why Sno was surrounded by a crowd of BOB employees who had seen her tapping at the small rectangle in her hands. THB followed Sno around trying to glance at the screen anytime she took it out of her pocket.

It didn’t take long for her to snap at them, “If I give you fifteen minutes to look through my phone, will you stop this?”

The boys nodded.

Sno sighed, “I’m watching you the entire time, no deleting my shit!”

The boys nodded and stuck their hands out, awaiting the small rectangle of mystery. Sno considered taking back the offer. What if they saw Lulu? She begrudgingly deleted all photos of both twins just in case, but like fuck would she delete all of Lulu.

On the other hand, they were bound to see all the happy photos. They might trust her more if they saw their baby-selves with her.

She handed them the phone.

Taako grabbed the phone first, going through the photos at a rapid pace with Magnus over his shoulder and Merle yanking his wrist down so he could see. Sno stepped behind them to watch. There was nothing risque or secret on her phone. Family photos, grocery lists, the occasional gourmet dinner to post on instagram.

It was a shock when Taako stopped scrolling at a picture of Merle and Ming. Ming was lifting Merle onto her shoulders, probably from the last family fun run.

“Fuck Merle, how did you end up with her?” Taako asked, disgusted, but intrigued.

Merle smiled, “I have a certain effect on women.”

Taako continued to scroll, finding a picture of Merle in a pair of juicy sweatpants, with Ming gesturing to his ass.

Oh right, Sno had saved that eyesore to show Avi that her mom literally bought the local bodega owner sweatpants to match hers.

“…Are we… married?” Merle asked.

“I didn’t know anyone could tolerate being that close to his ass,” Magnus added

“Just… how? Did, did you blackmail her?” Taako asked.

Sno tuned out their conversation while they continued to ogle pictures of Ming and Merle before stumbling onto a photo of Ming, Merle, and a baby Taako. 

Taako went wide eyed and dropped the phone.

“Whatch it! I don’t know if your Lucas can fix this!” Sno grabbed her phone. “No more phone time!”

Merle and Magnus groaned, but Taako stayed frozen. Sno waved her hand in front of his face, “Koko! Come on, wake up!”

Magnus began shaking his shoulder, Merle jabbed his knee, but his entire body remain rigid. Taako could only think one thing, was Merle his… dad?

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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[Short answer: Where do you think the twins Ambrose and Aloicious came from?]

Waking up half-clothed from an episode of Luume is nothing new to Elves or half-Elves. Waking up in a guardian position was something new to Angus. Agatha was fast asleep and purring and he knew Agnes was staying with Gram’pa Taako.

He still scanned the area for potential threats. He had to keep his mate safe. Even though his senses were currently addled from Luume, the wording of his back-brain caught his interest.

Angus threw on a robe and shuffled into the kitchen. They’d had quite the feast for their sync’d Luume, but their instincts always make them over-buy supplies in the week before. Which was great because he wanted to cook his lovely wife something nutritious and delicious as a post-Luume pick-her up.

Something good for the baby…

Wait. What?

Angus snorted and got on with cooking. He was probably thinking about Agnes. Luume hadn’t been necessary to make their firstborn. It didn’t always result in young when it did happen. Though… fertility increase was one of the things that occurred.

*

Five months later…

“It’s going to be twins,” crowed Gram’pa Taako. “They run in the family, you know.”

Papa groaned and rolled his eyes. “We’re not genetically related, Papa. Twins run in your bloodline. Both Agatha and I come from a long line of single births.”

“Never argue with an Elf’s schnoz,” countered Gram’pa.

Agnes giggled. Papa had just told her that she was going to have a baby sibling soon, and it was growing inside Mama. Gram’pa was being silly and insisting that there were two sibs coming up. Agnes loved it when Gram’pa was silly. He was so very good at it.

He was absolutely over the moon when there were twins. Two baby brothers looked so tiny in the big crib Agnes had outgrown. They slept a lot and cried real loud and were stinky sometimes, but they were fascinating.

She didn’t believe that she used to be that small.

She also couldn’t believe how Gram’pa never stopped talking about how right his instincts were.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

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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]

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“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]

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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]

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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]

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Merle used to be a night manager for a convenience store near the Neverwinter Community College. He got fired from there because… well… because of this.

It was getting so late that it was nearly early. Mak’arune, working on her degree, prowled the aisles for any and all over-the-counter pick-me-ups. Coffee, Monster, some pep pills, anything with guarana in it, and anything with taurine in it.

“Late night hitting the books, huh?”

“Worse than that, said Mak’arune. “My laptop imploded and now I have to do my entire thesis from scratch.”

Merle whistled backwards. “Tell you what. I know a little something-something that can help you out. It’s pretty strong stuff, so you gotta go easy on it. But it’ll definitely give you energy to do all that thesis stuff.”

“Anything,” said Mak’arune, tears in her eyes. “I need this degree. I need it so bad.”

“Cool your jets,” Merle grumbled. “Just wait there.” He clambered down from his tall chair and waddled on all the way into the back room. Moxes rattled, curses uttered, and after a few minutes of this, he waddled back with a small bottle with no label and an eyedropper lid. “Here it is. One of my little extracts. It’d knock a Dwarf or a Humanman out so hard they could sleep through the apocalypse, but you Elven types? Wired to shit and back.”

The bottle, contents and all, couldn’t weigh more than two ounces. That such a small thing could be so important.

“Will it really?”

“Yup. Big-ass energy boost,” he said. “Now you gotta be careful with this shit. It’s distilled, so it’s extra potent. No more than one drop per drink per hour, even if you’re not mixing it with the rest of that noise. If your sternum starts to feel like it’s gonna shake apart, you fuckin’ quit, got it?”

Mak’arune nodded. “M’kay. And I can stay awake all night with this stuff?”

“Miss, you could probably stay awake through a sleep dust storm. One drop an hour. You’ll be fine.”

Mak’arune handed over her money and took the entire bag of legal uppers back to the residence where she was attempting to salvage the unsalvageable.

Two hours in, Mak’arune yawned and, in a complete panic about one yawn, sank the entire little brown bottle in one go.

On the plus side, she got her thesis reconstructed.

On the minus side, the campus security had to fish her out of the main Quad fountain, where she was (a) dressed only in her underwear, (b) yelling about things coming out of otherwise solid objects, (c ) sending misfiring magic all around the area, and (d) doing all of the above during a tour of potential donors of wealth and privilege.

It took some major league tranquillisers to get her to even chill. Even then, she was in something of a torpor for the majority of the next day.

Mak’arune would never touch anything stronger than a cola ever again.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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[AN: You were expecting kink, weren’t you?]

Two thousand and something years before what we know as the present day…

Kravitz woke before the alarm went off, silencing the bell and, in the dark, tidied his bed so that it didn’t have so much as one wrinkle. He washed his face with the ewer and basin and put on the clothes he had left out the night before.

Daddy said, “Early to bed and early to rise…”

Shoes in his hands, he tip-toed downstairs and to the back door. He sat on a little stool to put on his shoes and went out to the privy. Always sure to bring back three logs from the log pile. Almost more than he could carry. After that, it was splitting them into firewood to stock the kitchen and feed the oven.

Of course he was careful to dust off his clothes and wash his hands. That, and remove his shoes because shoes were for the outside only.

His next destination was the one mirror in the Dressing Room. Move the sheet over it just so and make certain he was well-presented.

Daddy said, “Children should be seen and not heard,” and, “A well-presented man is a well-respected man,” and, “Vanity is the root of all sin.”

Therefore, the one mirror was always covered, and Kravitz only checked his appearance in it once, to be sure of his hair. He covered it again and went back into the kitchen.

Ham. Eggs. Sausage. Butter. Into the frying pan and onto the hob, waiting to get a good sizzle. No bread for Daddy, he said bread was for children and dogs, to make them hush. Kravitz filled the kettle from the pump and set it on the hob, too.

The one other clock in the house rang seven. Time for all goodly souls to be awake, Daddy said. Time for practice. Kravitz turned the breakfast and re-entered the Dressing Room, taking the cover off of the piano and turning over the hourglass.

Fifteen minutes of scales. In the keys of C major, D minor, E, F, and G minor.

Five minutes in, the kettle started boiling and whistlng, providing an insistant monotone to Kravitz’s scales. Any minute now, Daddy would come downstairs and make his pot of tea, and serve his breakfast.

It was the way it had always been. It was the way it always would be.

E… up and down. F… up and down. G minor… up and down.

Breakfast was starting to burn. Kravitz started to breathe faster. Daddy would be angry if he let breakfast burn. He would be angry if he stopped playing. He would be angry if he didn’t have his tea…

C major… up and down. The kettle still sang. The breakfast still burned. Daddy’s footsteps still didn’t come down the stairs.

Kravitz snatched the hourglass off the piano and lay it carefully down on the floor. He would play the greater amount of time to make up. He dashed into the kitchen despite Daddy insisting that running around was for gadabout neer-do-wells and never, ever indoors.

Pan off the hob, kettle off the hob. Laying safe and out of potential harm.

No yelling from upstairs. No threatening stomp of feet. Silence there, and nothing more.

Perhaps Daddy was sick. That could be it. Sick in bed and therefore unable to get up and be angry. Listening for every sound, he crept upstairs. Tip-toed all the way to Daddy’s room, and very timidly knocked.

No man was going to hear that knock. Daddy said that a man would announce himself with confidence.

Except… he was a boy of eight.

Five deep breaths. Ratta-tat-tat. “Father. You are late for breakfast. Is anything amiss?”

In the following silence, the tick of the clock sounded like thunder.

Kravitz knocked again. Nothing. He tried the doorknob. Locked. There was a key, but it was on the other side.

He knew what to do about that one, even though he would get a drubbing for acting like a thief. Sheet of paper under the door. Poke the key out from the other side, then drag the sheet back to the side he was on, key and all. Then, he used the key to unlock the door and enter.

“My sincere apologies, Father, but I grew overly concerned,” he said. “You’re late for breakfast and you’re never late for breakfast.”

There was such a scene. His bedclothes were in disarray and Daddy had stripped out of his nightshirt and bedcap. There were pools of vomit on the floor.

“Father?” Careful of the noxious pools, Kravitz tip-toed about to reach Daddy. He was panting like a dog in the sun, and burning hot to the touch. He was also unable to be roused.

Further thievery was necessary now. He opened Father’s bureau and stole a sheet of paper and a modicum of ink to write, Dearest Father. I found you ill after you were late for breakfast, and therefore found it necessary to borrow the horse. I have gone to fetch the town Cleric and should return in good time. I’m well aware that I am overdue a good drubbing for my sins, and will await your earliest convenience.

Signed, Your loving son, Kravitz. He blotted, sanded, and blew the ink dry, sealing the inkwell and cleaning the pen before setting everything else in the bureau to rights. He left the paper where Daddy would see it and hurried out towards the stable.

He almost forgot to put on his shoes.

Kravitz could hear the clock ticking like thunder as he brushed down the horse, added blanket, saddle, and tack. Made certain the girth strap was tight before he mounted. Then he was off at a steady, but rapid, pace.

Daddy always said, “A steady pace is oft faster than racing. You whip a horse, you might as well shoot the thing.”

He was light and Double-Dash was eager enough to run. Kravitz wasted an illogical handful of seconds wondering what it might be like to let Double-Dash run and run wherever he wanted… but that was not the purpose of a horse.

Cleric found, Kravitz had to explain things three times. Once to him, once to his wife, who translated, and once more to him. He had to come. Daddy was very sick. Yes, he has a fever. Yes, he’s thrown up. No, Kravitz couldn’t wake him. Yes, he was still breathing. Yes of course we need to hurry, that’s what Kravitz was telling him! Please!

Kravitz rode with the Cleric. The wife rode behind. Nothing made a horse run faster than another horse running, Daddy said. The Cleric’s wife ran her horse hot and hard, so Double-Dash did his best to catch up. All the way home.

Where Kravitz caught his breath, took a drink of water, and sat back at the piano, setting up the hourglass where it belonged, with the most sand on the topmost side.

C major, up and down. D minor, up and down. E, up and down. F, up and down. G minor, up and down. Check the sand, start again. C major…

Around and around until his elbows ached. Kravitz paid no heed to what the Cleric and his wife were doing. Daddy said, “Let the professionals be professional and don’t pester them with questions,” so that was what Kravitz did, until the sand ran out.

Daddy always had work for him at this point in the routine. Daddy wasn’t here to give Kravitz something to do.

So he sat. Waiting. Stomach rumbling. At the piano.

He had to keep Daddy happy.

That meant doing everything Daddy wanted him to do. Which meant doing what he was told. When that something was absent, he sat. Waiting. Perfect posture. Perfectly still.

For a father’s smile that would never come.

The Cleric’s wife eventually fed him the cold ham, sausage, and eggs, and gave him a slice of fresh bread and a big glass of milk. She said words that didn’t make sense to Kravitz. Inheritance. Estate law. Regency. In loco parentis.

He said, “Father will sort it out. Father will sort out everything. Once he is done, I will receive the drubbing I am overdue. I have acted like a criminal, even though it was for a good cause.”

The Cleric’s wife snatched him off the chair and hugged him tight and said, “You don’t worry about that. You don’t worry about that ever again.”

It would be months before he realised that his father was dying at that very moment, upstairs.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 10]

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“I mean… yeah. Sure. We always argue about stupid stuff. It’s a thing.” Lup shrugged. Trying to act casual about just… not having her brother there. These interviews had to be conducted one on one. Captain evaluating potential crew. She hadn’t thought talking to a rather young Gnome would be intimidating, but there she was. Nervous about talking to a man who needed a booster seat to see over his desk.

“So. Why do you need Taako to be part of this crew? What does he bring that can’t be supplied by any other crewmember?”

His right hand in my left, she thought, but couldn’t say out loud. That was too brief. Too glib. Too easily missed by such a stern and dour man who looked like he’d never had a friend nor a happy thought in his life. He hadn’t had anyone like Taako, that was for sure.

He’d never had…

The someone who was always there. The rock of reliability in seas of uncertainty. The one person she could always turn to. Even in the living hell of Saint Vingo’s, he had been there for her. Always.

He’d never had…

A brother at age five, usually timid of anyone else, shielding her from Mr Bingbong as he drunkenly capered about in the Tre Llew-Ddion streets. Picking up a chunk of hard, mouldy cheese that had been thrown at them mere moments before, and flung it towards the drunk clown with the sad umbrella. She’d followed suit after three such throws, laughing as Mr Bingbong turned and squeaked miserably away.

He’d never had…

Instant acceptance at age ten, when she told him in secret, and then told the world when she defended her identity against some bigger, older kids. When the news had reached their mother, he was an eager font of ideas on how to scratch together one thousand gold pieces worth of gemstones when they could barely keep a copper piece between them. He’d never had someone who worked so hard for so long to help when there was pain like that for every day of existence.

He’d never had…

Someone else purring in her ear to ground her when the nightmares came. Someone to gather herbs and medicines when it was just them on the road. Someone’s shoulder to cry on. Someone’s warmth to share. Someone to warn her of a bad idea. Someone who could sell pig dung to farmers like it was precious gems…

Lup thought long and hard about everything she loved about her brother. How he could sell ice to frost giants. Thought hard about what he’d say to sell her to this stern and stoic man. Then she thought about what he’d want her to say about him.

She took a deep breath. Began with his favourite word. “Listen…” she said. “I may say the words ‘dumb baby brother’ about Taako, but that’s like, a joke on the universe. You’ve seen our test scores, you know he’s not an idiot. Hell, I’m not even sure if he made mistakes on purpose ‘cause he knew I wanted to get in. He’s–” my entire heart. If you take him away from me, I will be a soulless shell. No. Don’t say that. “There’s been entire decades when Taako’s the only reason I got up in the morning, you know? He– We’re twins. You know what that means for Elves?”

“I’m familiar with the superstitions. It’s bad luck to separate twins. They’re two bodies with one soul… all that nonsense.”

Gods it was a fight not to get angry. “For us… it’s almost true. We’re…” Deep breaths, and don’t incinerate the nice man with his finger on the button of your future, Lulu… “You’ve got all our records. You know we didn’t always wash up in nice places.”

“Saint Vingo’s stands out,” he said. “It always does.”

He knew. He’d read all about it. Yet here he was, giving them a chance. “Places like that… have a lasting effect. Without Taako by my side, I’d…” wither away to nothing… “He’s like… all of my impulse control, now. Saint Vingo’s is where I lost the last of my patience for anything. I’m… I’m his sense of restraint. Like, sometimes, he’ll go off on a really terrible idea, and I have to stop him because - he won’t. He stops me. We’re each other’s brakes.” Well. That was this job down the tubes. “He’s my up when I’m down. I’m his warmth when he’s cold. We have a joke, together. As a pair? We make one functional Elf. We’re a team. We’ve been a team since forever.”

He was taking notes. “Mm-hm…”

“We were born holding hands. We’re a team. We’re unit. We’re a package deal. Double or nothing, Captain. And if you need me to tell you how good he is or why you need him and me?” All or nothing. Do or die. There were no grey areas any more. She’d had enough of grey in Saint Vingo’s. “You can just fuck right off to hell.”

She marched right out of there without giving him any form of comeback opportunity. Only imagining her entire future burning to ashes. All the way back to the little place she shared with her brother. Head high, as if she hadn’t just destroyed every single hope she’d had of every having her best dream come true.

She kept her appearances up all the way in to their pokey little living room, where Taako had baked a cake. It was shaped like the ship still under construction, sailing off towards the sky. A tiny fondant likeness stood on the prow, one arm raised and pointing the way. There was a banner across the wall that red, Congrats Captain Lup!

That was when she broke. He hadn’t even put a fondant Taako on that ship. He knew. He fucking knew… He knew they were angling to leave him out of the expedition. Already. That was when she broke.

Taako was wrapped around her in instants. Listening to her incoherent howling about how she’d fucked it up for both of them. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, “I’m the debbie downer in this duo. Stop stealin’ my act. We always knew you were goin’ and -hey- it’s just two months. I’m sure I can survive that long. Taako’s good out here.”

She sighed. “Nah. I fucked it for both of us.”

Taako leaned over the cake, turning the fondant figure around and then changing her hand to giving the entire ship the finger. “Eh, so you get to be captain of the next one. I get to be two eye see. Who needs those losers, right? Remember whats-her-face? Didn’t know we were twins for like two months?”

Lup snorted, pushing him away. “You butt-waffle.”

“If I’m a butt-waffle, you’re an ass-erole.”

He was her ability to laugh when she was feeling her worst. They had cake anyway. And the biggest surprise of their lives when the captain put the both of them on his short list the next morning.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]

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Patience is a virtue, tho’ it makes you jump through hoops,
Seldom seen in Humans, and never seen in Lup – A Taako Original.

Life was rarely fair for the twins. Take birthdays. Lup always managed to have hers celebrated, but -thanks to a small matter of forty-five minutes edging into the first four minutes of the next day- Taako inevitably missed out. Lup, as the first-born, was legally entitled to whatever their missing family could provide her. If an inheritance had ever really been in the offing, Taako would have got the scraps.

He was ninety percent of her impulse control, and the harbinger of doom who had always managed to pull her out of some situation her usual recklessness had got her into. He was her back-up, her confidante, her loyal second… her entire heart. She might have been the smart and outgoing one, but Taako always managed to form the bonds with the most meaning. He had the keenest eye and the shrewdest mind for finding new directions to take. That brother of hers could salvage a con gone sour with very little in the way of warning.

Which was why she was leafing through Taako’s cookbooks while he was out looking for interesting ingredients. Looking for a recipe to help add a balm to his battered soul.

They were one hundred and forty-seven. They had been one hundred and forty-seven for thirty years so far, and it showed no sign of coming to an end. He had put up with so much shit in that time, not the least of which was watching her die so often. The first time that happened, he’d just… collapsed[1]. He hadn’t dealt any better with it the other six times.

Not like she’d done any better, watching him die twice during those years. The first time, she’d gone on a rampage of vengeance. Literally blazing a path of destruction across that suck-ass reality that, only in retrospect, she had not been proud of. The other time… The other time she’d followed him into the metaphorical grinder, not seeing a worth to her life if he wasn’t in it.

Which was just one reason upon thousands why she was searching through his recipes. She wanted to surprise him with one of his favourites. Cooked by her own hand. Because food was one thing they had in common, because it was his birthday, because she wanted to apologise for the last time she’d died, because food was one of the thousands of ways of saying ‘I love you’. Good food, especially, between the two of them.

She owed him much more than that, of course; but this was a good start.

The best way to find the best-loved recipes in any cookbook was to look for the one with the most stains. She knew Taako had a whole mouth full of sweet tooths -sweet teeth?- so picked out some of the stickiest pages in there. Sure, many of the ingredients of the original recipes weren’t around any more, but Taako was thorough. In every dimension, he insisted on finding the best substitutes he could and jotting them down. Thus, the books became a near-indecipherable mess that Lucretia attempted to sort out once every decade.

Heer dear, darling, paranoid obsessive brother had one clear favourite that didn’t involve trucking around half of this reality to get the ingredients. He called it a Fruity Tuity and it was somewhere between a figgy duff and a plum pudding. Typical Taako, it involved four kinds of sweetening and -yikes- Fifty-seven steps. Sixty, if you included the time spent soaking it in rum or honey mead, and putting unfinished steps into the cold box to chill.

Two days prep? Fuck that noise.

Surely, there’s a few steps I can skip to speed this thing along a smidge…

*

It had been a long, tiring, and somewhat fun day. Taako returned with his prizes - ninety percent ingredients, ten percent fashion, and some weird shit that was probably unique to this particular reality that might be useful at some later date. He ignored Maggie complaining behind him.

“…why I have to be your beast of burden,” he was whining. “I mean, it’s not like any of it is really heavy, so much, as it’s… awkward…”

Taako sniffed the air. There was sugar, and rum… and… “Dragonfruit?”

Lup appeared with the multiverse’s fakest grin on her face. Which was smeared with flour, syrup, and something looking remarkably like soot. She was wearing an apron that was similarly besmirched. “Taako… You’re early…”

“It’s getting late, actually.” He sniffed the air again. Charcoal? “Lulu, have you been fucking up my kitchen?”

“Me? Fuck up your kitchen? Hahaha! I know better than to make a mess in our kitchen, brother-dear.” Oh shit. Something had gone mega terri-bad. That ‘brother-dear’ was a dead give-away. “I was just tryin’a -youknow- arrange a little surprise for your birthday…”

“Uh… why’d you borrow my apron, there, sis?”

“So I thought I’d just whip up one of your faves…”

“That ain’t aromatic smoke in the air, goofus.”

“…and I might have had a few technical issues…”

“What the fuck did you do, Lulu?” Taako dumped his share of the shopping bags on the handiest patch of floor, sailing down the spiral stairs that lead into the mess.

In this case - the literal mess. This was three times worse than the last time they’d done a fuck-it-let’s-cook-literally-everything gourmet extravaganza because Merle owed them a month of washing up. It was worse than the time Barold attempted to cook the whole crew dinner, which was -by no co-incidence at all- the last time anyone insisted on sharing duties on the Starblaster.

It was worse than the time Maggie burned the Spaghetti and attempted to make up for it with pancakes. Which he also burned. And got stuck to the ceiling.

“Oh my sweet merciful gods…”

“It isn’t as bad as it looks?” said Lup.

“YES IT FUCKING IS!” Taako gestured at the wreckage. “What the fuck were you trying to make?”

“I thought you might like a Fruity Tuity?” She edged past him to release the valve on the pressure cooker.

“…in the presh-pot…”

“I figured it didn’t need to be as complicated as you set it out if I approached it with logic and science on my side–”

“…oh gods, no…” Taako moaned. “The nerdlord’s infected you.”

“Nonsense, Koko. It’s going to be fine. So I was a little bit more creative than usual. So what? No progress without experimentation and this–” she opened the lid at last and took a peek. “–is… not… what I expected.”

Her face said it all. All her best-laid plans, attempts at improv, and possibly five pounds of wasted ingredients had come to naught. Taako peeked anyway.

“Yeesh. Looks like the results of the last time Merle tried to cook.” And by that, he meant the diarrhea. “Is that one of my good pudding cloths?”

Lup was aghast. She knew the ships’ rule. You fuck it up, you’re eating it. “I’m so sorry, Koko…”

“Maybe next time follow all the instructions, hm?”

Maggie, meanwhile, had taken a spoonful to sample. “Mmm. Crunchy.”

“It’s not s’posed’a be crunchy!” Lup wailed.

They were gonna have to send out for pizza and ice cream before they even thought of cleaning up after this one.

[1] See The Worst Year, as chronicled by yours truly.