Schools with a choir program always went after the Elves like starving, rabid dogs after a hunk of steak. It shouldn’t have surprised La’ming Ton, new mother of two tiny, adorable, six-year-old twins that the choir program swarmed during their first day of school. Frankly, she was shocked that someone got little mister no-words Koko to string together a complete sentence.

That kid was jittery as hell around strangers at the best of times. Hell, the first time they met, he only got into her apartment because he was out cold and Lulu trusted her. The fact that she had food when he woke up gained her a minimum of trust, likewise the fact that she didn’t force them into anything.

How he had agreed to choir had to be a tale involving major intervention from the gods. Probably all of them.

Now, though, La’ming was glad.

For such little devils, they both had voices like angels. Sweet, pure voices that never missed a note. It was almost enough to sweep one away into paradise…

Blip-blip k’chow boom “HEY DO YOU WANT TO MEET HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA? MY NAME’S TAMMY AND–”

Several people were glaring at the kid in the next row forward, and slightly to the left of La’ming. Some were shushing him. La’ming politely tapped him on the shoulder. “Could you silence your phone, please?” she whispered. “Some people want to listen to this.”

“Some people can bite me,” he said.

Well. She had asked nicely. Now it was her turn to play nasty.

She focussed the spell intensely onto one person. Specifically, a much smaller bubble than the usual twenty feet. Then, blessing the fact that she took a couple of levels at Bard-dom, made a gesture behind his seat and whispered, “Pianissimo, pianissimo, pianissimo, pianissimo.”

Ha. That should shut him up for the duration. Which should be extended because of the smaller volume.

His mother had to be somewhere… but La’ming wasn’t budging until her babies had their solos. Koko’s soul-cleansing extended arpeggio… closely followed by Lulu’s irrepressible tempo change into something that made the entire audience tap their feet and burst out in applause.

Damn straight. Those were her babies. Shining like they deserved to. La’ming blew them both kisses and sidled out of her seat to have a little Word with Susan Hakniid, who was busy haranguing the talent night’s director for a slot for her idiot lump of a son, Jason.

Everyone knew Jason. If it were possible, he would be put away for wasting carbon, air, and everyone’s time… but you couldn’t convince Susan of that. She was utterly convinced that her darling little Jason was a gift to the world and only needed one real chance to show it.

If he’s such a gift, how can I return it? La’ming wondered, not for the first time. It took her three goes to get Susan’s attention.

“–and furthermore, your own school charter says that every talented student will get an opportunity to shine, I was talking…”

“We noticed,” said La’ming. “All the way through other childrens’ opportunities to shine. Or is your son the only child who matters?”

Only now did Susan notice the front three rows of parents, friends, and family all glaring in her direction.

“We have sent numerous notes about your son, Jason, and his… lack of co-operative skills,” said the director, who finally had a word in edgewise. “His only talent on display tonight is that of being a disturbance. Something he’s obviously inherited.”

“You might want to have a word with him during intermission,” said La’ming. “If he thinks he can make noise during others’ performances, other kids might think they’re allowed to make noise during his performance.”

“Assuming he can spend a semester without any behaviour demerits,” said the director in a hurried addition. “Furthermore, as per the school rulebook, any further disturbance by you or your son will force us to remove you both from the premises.”

“This is a conspiracy to hold him back,” Susan hissed. “My lawyers are going to be involved.”

Thank the gods that the courts found security footage to be more admissible than Susan Hakniid ever did. Meanwhile, La’ming got to field her babies as they came off stage.

“You. Were. Amazing,” she said scooping them up into her arms and delivering a kiss each onto their darling little cheeks. She carried them towards her vacated seat and whispered, “Wanna blow the rest of the evening off for pizza and ice cream?”

Two matching grins and four matching thumbs’ up gestures. The perfect finish to a not-so-perfect night.

Still Tumbl'd, Still TAZ - Chapter 60 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

Magnus realises some of the shit Taako’s been through and vows to be a better friend.

The Bureau of Balance prides itself in the ability to hire the best of the best. The best of Bards, the best of Fighters, the best of Wizards, the best Arcanists, the best Tinkerers… And, of course, the best of thinkers.

The three of them worked in the Dirty Tricks Department. Disguises, interesting devices, and nefarious maneuvers.

Rogues, after all, didn’t know everything.

Madam Director didn’t usually allow families on the moon. Too many opportunities for stress, angst, and other dramas. Yet there were, as for all things, special occasions. Just as Tres Horny Bois were allowed straight into becoming Reclaimers, this particular little family were allowed to be the entire brain trust and the department.

A Sea Elf named La’ming Ton was nefarious maneuvers. She spent most of her time adapting her memoirs into pamphlets concerning assorted behaviours for agents out on the field. How to confound a trail. How to mislead a tail. How to use a foe’s psychology against them. How to weigh someone in the balance and judge their character. How to de-escalate conflict. It was amazing what La’ming Ton had picked up in two-hundred and some years of her checkered past.

Her wife, Mak’arune, was chief of disguises. She was mistress of the budget, chief of alternate sources, and could tell where any given thread came from and what it was most likely to be used for with two minutes, a magnifying glass, and - if dye is involved - the ability to taste it.

The chief tinkerer of Team Brain Trust is none other than their adopted daughter, taken up by the couple in a fit of synchronized Luume’irma. Her name is Agatha Tremaine and she’s in the vicinity of ten years old. She’s also a tinkerer, an alchemist, and almost as nosey as…

Taako kept thinking of a small annoying boy on a train. They’d make a terrifying match, come to think of it.

She was ten years old, and explaining the functioning of a specific device as if she were talking to a toddler. That was more or less fine. He was still playing the idiot wizard, but… he wasn’t even trying to overdo it for this kid.

“Do you have an even nerdier brother?” said Magnus.

“Do you cross-dress?” said Merle.

Taako snorted and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that this little nerd wasn’t related to the other little nerd. An idiot wizard couldn’t say as much out loud. However, an idiot wizard could fuck things up in amusing ways…

Oooh, that looked interesting. “What does this button do?”

The orb it was attached to released a blinding flash of light. So blinding that he was concerned for his vision for a good twenty minutes.

His first vision was a condescending baby administering special eyedrops. “Have we learned something, today?”

It was the sneering that did it. He just had to play, now. “Oh, that was a fun toy. Got any more?”

She said, “Nobody can be as stupid as you’re pretending to be.”

Boo. No fun.

“Yes he can,” said Magnus.

“He really can,” said Merle.

At which point, her parents turned up. “Which one of you assholes is messing with our baby’s inventions?” demanded La’ming.

Closely following her was Mak’arune, carrying a large bag. “Is anyone hurt? Baby, are you okay?” She, unlike her wife, was half-Elven. However, like her wife, any Luume-adoption inclined the adopter to repeatedly acknowledge their adoptee as their baby.

“It’s fine, mama. Just a dingus playing with buttons. I saw it coming so I had my lenses down.” She demonstrated, flipping down what had appeared to be an interesting head decoration but was actually heavily smoked glass on a frame that collided neatly with her existing spectacles. “Even then, I can find the eye drops by feel.”

“You sneaky little shit,” cooed Taako approvingly. “I like this nerd!”

“This is our baby you’re talking about,” menaced Mak’arune, normally the shyest and most unassuming member of the Bureau.

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” said Magnus as he received the eye drops. “That’s the Taako seal of approval. (Ow, those sting…) It means he likes your daughter.”

La’ming was glaring at him. “You’re seven colours of messed up in the head, aren’t you?”

“Six, last count,” said Taako. “The new one must be my own special variety.” He dared peruse some other inventions with his hands behind his back. “All part of the brand, now.”

Agatha whispered, “He has learned,” in Elven, as if it were a minor miracle.

Taako had to pretend deafness lest he had to act offended around two very dangerous and very protective mothers.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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Submitted for your approval - Merle Highchurch, sole holder of 1999 Party Points. None can hold a candle to him at partying. Even the party gods hold him in awe. He has not held a party so huge and rowdy that he passed out and woke as the new deity of parties and partying… yet.

Nevertheless, the Dwarf knows how to tie one on.

Chesney’s is in full swing. The liquor is flowing, the music is blasting, and the nibbles are on fucking point because Merle got Taako to make them. He was insulted that Merle would dare to put on store bought pretzels and cocktail franks and therefore made his own.

Elves tend to exceed at everything they do. The Taaco twins are merely more so since they feel they have more to prove. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been surviving and proving it for the better part of two hundred years, they still have to go overboard every single time.

So, too, does Merle.

He’s had fifteen tankards of his Special Nectar Mead[1] and is dancing with anyone who can still stand after five. That list includes the Reaper crew, half of Team Sweet Flips, and (just barely) Taako, who won’t be outdone by his sister this time, damnit.

The decorative plants around Chesney’s started to dance along with the beat. Lianas and creepers spread out, wriggling like they, too, were dancing.

“Stoppit…” warned Lucretia.

“The party’s gonna come out somewhere,” he said, still jiggling. “If it ain’t the greens then…” he shrugged. 1999 party points, under certain circumstances, could alter reality itself.

“There are children present, Merle,” snarled Lucretia.

“Aight, your funeral,” Merle gestured and the plants returned to what passed for normal. It took a few more moments for different realities to assert themselves.

“AWRIGHT BOUNCE HOUUUUUSSE!” Magnus yawped, shedding his sharp corners and rushing in.

“HEY DAD, WHERE’D YOU GET THE BALL PIT?”

“HOLY FUCK IT’S AMUSE BOUCHE!”

“WHEE! FUCK YEAH! FIREWORKS!”

In ten minutes, the party would be off the hook.

[1] At this point in the game, it’s not wise to ask what the nectar is, or the exact process involved when Merle brews it. Suffice to stay that Barry invented a special, non-exploding still to brew it in within five cycles.

Agatha:

Certain things could only be learned by cohabiting. Such as the presence of a very familiar box. A cube of purple with grey features, tucked away and slightly out of normal notice. She knew that box. She used to have one just like it.

That was a Fantasy Gamecube.

She quickly investigated. There was just one game in there. Fantasy Animal Crossing. A game for up to four players.

She couldn’t help herself. She extracted her Fantasy Gamecube and her own savegame and managed to wrangle her transfer over to Angus’ village.

There. Now they could play together if they wanted.

He’d figure it out soon enough. Meanwhile, she could plant some peach trees in his orchards.

Angus:

Someone had been messing with his village. When he logged on, someone had already pulled all the weeds. There was a new house and some saplings in his orchard… and a letter in his mailbox.

_Dear Angus,_ it read, _I found your little secret and had to join mine with yours. Perhaps we can enter the fishing competition together, one day._

It was from Agatha.

Angus couldn’t help but smile. It was wonderful to know that the woman he loved also had a penchant for the drama-free meditative peace and quiet of Fantasy Animal Crossing.

Sno:

Her package had arrived! She daren’t open it at work, so she hid it behind her coat in her locker until it was time to knock off and head for home. Even then, she hid it inside her coat as she walked at a faster pace.

All the way to the tiny flat in an overcrowded apartment building with cardboard walls and neighbours who were living noise violations.

Only once she was locked inside her sanctuary did she dare take it out of hiding and open it up.

Her heart thundered, all the same, as she took the garment out of its protective packaging. Layer upon layer of frills and lace. Autumn-toned, but beautiful all the same. It was everything she’d craved.

Sno had had a lifetime of conforming to other people’s expectations. Being a refined and graceful Elf for her grandparents. Being one of the boys for the City Watch. Only when she was alone did she dare…

She stripped out of her uniform, all the way down to her underwear, and slid it on. Beautiful. Frilly. Lacy. Feminine. Steampunk skirt. The blouse was still under construction so she paired it with her Fantasy Steam Powered Giraffe shirt.

She twirled just to watch the layers flair out. Struck poses just to watch herself in the mirror and feel…

Just for a moment…

Like herself.

The curtains were drawn. The shutters were closed. The door was locked. Nobody else was going to see what was going on behind these closed doors. Mak’arune had retreated into privacy to get into her costume. La’ming retreated into her privacy, about to get dressed up in something fancy for her wife.

They’d agreed to this for their first anniversary. A quiet night in while each of them dressed up in what they felt sexiest in. It was an involved process for the both of them, taking some significant amount of time. It also required one or both of them to answer the door in concealing robes as the deliveries arrived.

Finally, all was ready. The last delivery arrived, the door was locked, and no more interruptions could happen. They set up the table, lit the candles, and braced themselves for the final reveal.

“All ready?” squeaked Mak’arune.

La’ming’s hand was so tight on the opening of her robe that it hurt. “All ready,” she quavered. “On three.”

They counted to three together. Four times. Laughing each time. The fourth one, though, was the charm. The robes came off.

“Wow,” Mak’arune said. “You look like a princess.”

“What are you wearing?”

Demure, constantly-covered Mak’arune who blushed at the word ‘underpants’ was dressed… pretty much in Fantasy Gaffa Tape[1]. There was more of Mak’arune showing right now than had ever been seen by any mortal eyes. Perhaps even on the day of her birth. “It’s a swimming costume.”

Meanwhile, normally brash, exhibitionist La’ming Ton is in the floofiest, frilliest, most ornate and concealing Lolita dress. Frilly socks, frilly pantaloons, frilly… everything. There was not an inch anywhere that wasn’t edged in lace. “It’s… Lolita. I like to feel like a princess.”

“You look adorable,” said Mak’arune.

“You look like you’re in for a lot of pain, tonight. Is that… actually tape?”

“Yes.”

“How do you take that off without removing half your lovely skin?”

“Warm oil sponge bath,” said Mak’arune. “I scent it with flower petals.”

“So on all those days when you smelled extra special…”

Mak’arune blushed as she nodded. “The day after. I had something like this on underneath my clothes.” She bit her lip. “And… on the days you were… extra bouncy?”

“I’d had a Princess Day, the day before. Yeah.”

Mak’arune wearing next to nothing, grasped the lace-gloved hands of La’ming. “We don’t need to hide this from each other, any more, do we?

[1] This is a thing. Google ‘Gaffa Tape Swimsuit’ and be amazed.

Kravitz sighed with concealed relief when he couldn’t find Taako in any of his standard places to hang around in. He had found the hidden room some time ago and, whenever Taako wasn’t around, had worked on it to turn it into his secret lair.

Taako thought Kravitz was a gentleman of quality and, for the most part, he was correct. Kravitz did enjoy the finer things in life. Wine, good music, better food, Taako, of course… but there was one little thing that he illogically loved and couldn’t get enough of. It was something not entirely great, not really. He loved it all the same but… He had to keep it his guilty little secret.

Kravitz put on his Fantasy Headphones and slid an album on the player. In mere moments, he was taken away into the rhythm and what passed for a melody. In a few more moments, he was singing along.

“…A twist of fate makes life worthwhile/ You are gold and silver/ I said I wasn’t gonna lose my head/ But then pop! Goes my heart…”

Completely unaware that Taako had found him and was listening in. The adoring smile might have showed Kravitz that Taako was loving this in a very goopy way, but… he wasn’t looking.

The smell of popcorn roused Lup from her usual night time coma. The other side of their bed was empty and she felt a vertiginous moment of terror that she was back inside her Umbrastaff. But no. The night light was glowing and there were other sense aids like the fluffy hanging on the wall and the tinkling of the wind chimes outside their window.

Enough to help ground her, he had said, in case he was on the shitter or something.

The light wasn’t on in the nearest privy. Lup got up and wrestled her nightshirt back down before stepping out into the otherwise quiet halls of their house.

No glow in the lab. Okay. Wait. The living room was alight? Lup padded silently towards it, her sharp Elven ears picking up on a low murmur of voices.

I swear to fuck, if he’s brought Death Criminals back over so he can grill them on their techniques again…

He wasn’t entertaining captured bounties. He was entertaining himself. With a big bowl of popcorn, some Fantasy Mountain Dew, and the Fantasy TV. Where some guy with hair like a half-sucked mango seed was explaining how the Starblaster and its crew was responsible for ninety percent of Faerun’s historical mysteries. With increasingly ludicrous proof.

Barry was enraptured.

Oh my gods, I can’t not love him more for this…

She smiled, watching him as he enjoyed bad food and worse Fantasy Television. Because she was who she was, though, she was also attempting to think of ways to use this to her advantage.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]

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Magnus:

Magnus put the mask on before he was out of sight of the travel orb but definitely after he had ditched the other two. Hood up, inconspicuous clothes on. Nobody need know it was him out here, headed for that place, doing these things.

In the unlikely event that anyone from the Bureau was here, they had enough plausible deniability to say they couldn’t be sure it was him.

Besides, he’d more or less earned this. Tough job, hard work. He really should have a day off like today. No questions asked. And if anyone did ask questions, he could probably flatten them.

He slunk into the side-entrance, taking all the covert byways into the heart of the business. Every city had a place like this, but this one was one of the better establishments.

“Welcome to Goldcliff Day Spa, anonymous sir,” chirped one of the clerks at the desk. “How may we ease your worries?”

Magnus hunkered up to the desk, hunching over and whispering. “I want the full body beauty treatment and that thing where ya soak in a tub of mud with cucumber on your eyes.”

“Certainly, sir. Would you like a mani-pedi with that?”

Merle:

Every now and then, a man has certain needs. It’s even more true for a Dwarf. He’d done everything he could to ditch his teammates in the thick of the crowds and then followed his nose to a discrete establishment down in the darker corners of Hunchback Lane.

Sure, these days, a Dwarf could fish or farm cattle and nobody would think less of them for it, but back in the ancient times? There were only two kinds of meat that a Dwarf could readily lay their hands on. Rat, and… call it ‘tunnel pork’.

There was something instinctual about it. Some kind of ancestral craving. Or harkening back to the remembrance festivals of his origin tribe when it was one of the tastes of his overlong childhood. Sometimes, you just had to go and get it.

They joked about it now. There was some smartass fella who had a whole book series with it as a running joke when mentioning Dwarven cuisine. Nevertheless, it wasn’t a popular joke and drove places like this -ha- even further underground.

He found it at last by the distinctive smell. Following his nose into the deeper-down of Little Khaz-Modan. On the other end of a twisty little alley that you had to know how to look for.

He poneyed up to the counter, put down his gold, and said, “One ratburger with all the mushrooms. And a large pot of mustard.”

Taako:

Nobody should ever know. Nobody could ever know. He’d evaded his teammates with superlative skill. Cast Disguise Self in order to purchase the cursed thing, and now made his way into a discrete Fantasy No-tell Motel where the rooms were rented by the hour and smelled like it too.

Fine. Fair enough. He wasn’t even planning to touch the beds.

He put the ‘do not disturb’ sign out, locked the door. Jammed a chair under the handle. Drew the curtains. Crept into the tiny bathroom and locked that door behind him, too.

Nobody would ever know…

Nevertheless, he ran a full Perception and Insight check before using his body to jam the door shut.

There, sitting on the cold and filthy tiles, he withdrew his illicit prize from his bag of holding. He was a five-star fucking chef. He could make these - and much better than these - in his fucking sleep. Nevertheless, there was something about the ones you could buy.

Maybe it was the mass manufactory. Maybe it was the way they tried to fancy it up with a fucking zigzag of cheap icing. Maybe it was the fucktons of sugar that also acted as a preservative. Maybe it was all the other preservatives.

Whatever it was, he had to have it.

The Fantasy Plastic cover cracked like thunder as he struggled with the ingenious seal. He flinched as it popped open, barely sparing it from the hideous floor.

He didn’t even peel the gigantic patty paper off the outside, just started digging into it with his manicured fingers. Shovelling it into his mouth handful by atrocious handful.

Cheap, yet rich chocolate assailed his senses. Taako moaned in pleasure, still trying to keep it down in spite of it all. The guilt of it. The need for it.

Nobody would ever know that the famous Taako from TV, five-star chef and once star of Sizzle it Up! With Taako had to occasionally indulge in cheap, crappy, store-bought, mass-produced chocolate cake.

He would eat the whole thing, and love it.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 12]

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Still Tumbl'd, Still TAZ - Chapter 53 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

A little bit of not-quite-Dadnus for the soul

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 13]

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

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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