[AN: Sure. I’m completely fooled. 9_9 Rather than explain Kintsugi, I started posting it on AO3. Read the beginning here. More chapters as time and availability dictates]

Sometimes, you just need a break. A chance to get away from it all and chill. This place… This place looked perfect for that. Beautiful white sand, perfect blue ocean.

“Aaaw yeah. I could really use a beach day,” cheered Magnus.

“No need to tell me twice, broski,” Taako was already in his fantasy swim trunks. He took to the water like he’d been born in it, and was soon almost out of sight in the waves.

“Any chance he’ll drown?” grumbled Merle, the group’s unofficial Grumpy Grampa.

“Not likely, sir,” said Angus from inside the caravan. He was still changing. “Papa’s pretty adept at the water stuff.”

Mak’arune emerged in a neck-to-knee number with a superfluous peplum and stripes made out of flowers. Angus’ were floral trunks. “Big water,” she said.

Merle, too, was already in his trunks. “That’s the ocean. One of Nature’s true wonders. It won’t bite, but it can be tricky. You see that part where the waves won’t break? That’s a riptide. Stay the fuck away from that.”

Mak paddled with Angus in the shallows, staying the hell away from the riptide. Merle went in deeper.

Magnus shrugged and stripped down to his Fantasy Meundies and rushed into the water. He didn’t go out as far as Taako, who was using the waves to sort of push him towards the shore without ever completely coming in. Magnus kept his eye on Mak and Ango, making sure they were safe. They didn’t go in further than Ango’s waist and had a great deal of shrieking and splashing around.

Merle came to shore with a fish, which he stuck on a stick up by their campsite. He strolled back into the water and ducked under as soon as he could. He seemed to be having fun with it, whatever it was.

Taako emerged from the waves to show Mak and Ango how to make Dribble Castles. He watched Merle wander past with a collection of shellfish and other creatures, and washed his hands in the salty water. He set up the cauldron, but didn’t do anything to cook. He gathered firewood and put some water in the cauldron, but after that, it was giving instructions to Merle.

Magnus kept watch on Mak’arune and Angus. Their dribble castle was getting ridiculous. He waded ashore and said, “I think Papa Taako needs more help. Let’s wash our hands.”

Sure enough Taako and Merle were having their four PM argument.

“Your hands aren’t broken, and you obviously know your shit. Why aren’t you doing any of this shit?”

Taako said, “I won’t do it. I can’t let it happen again.”

“Let what happen again.”

Magnus, walking in on it all, said, “Glamour Springs.”

[Prompts remaining: 1]

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[AN: Holy shit I missed this for so long AAAAAHHHH please don’t hate me, Nonny]

It was late, and Papa wasn’t home. Dad had kept Angus’ mind off it for this long, but the clock still ticked and the hours mounted up.

“Papa’s not back,” Angus worried. He had grown used to accepting the idea that new parents weren’t permanent and still feared that these ones would somehow vanish.

“Papa’s going to be fine,” said Dad. “I’d know if he was in danger. It’s way past your bedtime now. You’re in your pajamjams, you’ve heard your chapter…”

Angus couldn’t sit still, and couldn’t make himself be sleepy. He’d already had some of Papa’s guaranteed apple pancakes and better-than-a-sleep-potion hot chocolate, but he still couldn’t make himself rest. “Papa kisses me goodnight,” he managed, voice trembling. “He’s not here t’ kiss me g’night…”

“I know, pet. I know. Some missions take longer than a day, love. Papa loves you to bits, and he’ll be back as soon as he can. Uncle Barry and Aunty Lup are going to help him if he’s in danger… It’s okay…”

Sniffle. Sob. “…’m scared ‘nyway…”

Dad held him close and started humming. Rocking gently as he swayed back and forth. “Au clair de la lune,/ Mon ami Pierrot,/ Prête-moi ta plume/ Pour écrire un mot…”

Angus didn’t understand Fantasy French, but the melody and rhythm were gentle enough to remind him that his tummy was overful of warm carbs and at least some of his family was here. He blinked… longer and longer… every time he opened his eyes or woke up a little, Dad was still singing. Softly. Gently. Calmly. If Dad could be relaxed about Papa not being home yet, Angus could certainly try.

Blink… most of the lights were out, there was just enough light to give shape to the darkness.

Blink… one of the cats was making biscuits in Angus’ leg.

Blink… the same cat and three of its fellows were curled up on him and Dad.

Blink… Gold and green light in the dark. The familiar shape of Papa in the night lights. “Hey, pumpkin… I head you missed me.”

“…’s worried ‘bou’chu…”

A warm smile. “I literally can’t die, baby. Not for a whole lot more years. Papa’s safe. It’s all okay.” Warm hands in his hair. Warm lips on his brow. “Wanna get tucked in now?”

“Five more minutes?” he begged.

Papa settled down with him and Dad and about five cats. “Sure thing.” His purr was the secret ingredient, and the next time he opened his eyes, it was dawn… and both his parents were still wrapped around him.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 0]

[AN: First, I’d like to apologise for taking so dang long with this. It’s been a busy week]

Angus shivered in his bed and dreaded opening his eyes. He was cold and soaked and terrified that, if he could breathe in through his nose, he would smell someone else’s pee. It certainly felt like he was huddled in a bunch of lumps that wanted to dig holes in his skin.

He could hear jingling jewellery and someone singing. “Good morning, starshine, the earth says ‘hello’… you twinkle above…” the singer trailed off, and a too-hot hand seared into Angus’ forehead. “You’re not okay, little man.”

The shadow above him glittered and gleamed. He managed to focus on golden hair and dusky skin that was mottled like a fawn and sprinkled with gold. He wasn’t in the orphanage any more, but it sure felt like he was in an orphanage bed. “…hurts,” he croaked.

“Hmm…” said Papa, who scooped him out of bed and into a thick, fluffy dressing gown. “Looks like Summerfaire Sniffles, there, buddy. Caught something from someone durin’ the holiday.” Papa was comfortingly warm, whilst Angus felt like his entire body was a loose sack full of snot.

“…’m sorry, papa…”

“Not your fault, hon. ‘S why the schools give people a whole month off after Summerfaire. Get all the viruses outta the system before they can recirculate.”

“…’r you mad at me?”

“Naw… It’s nothing some soup won’t cure. Cream of chicken soup with ginger, garlic, and all the fixings. All your favourite ingredients.”

“…’m n’t h'ngry…”

Papa cooed and juggled him around as his Mage Hands filled a hot water bottle and wrapped it up. “We’ll find something to tempt those tastebuds later on, punkin. Anything you need, you’re getting. Just say the word.”

“…cuddl’s…”

“M’kay,” Papa curled up with him, the hot water bottle, and a lot of blankets (the cats came to nest on them later) on the big cuddle couch and turned the fantasy television on to something that required no brainpower to appreciate.

Dad looked in on them in an hour or two. “Everything all right, babe?”

“Summerfaire Sniffles,” said Papa. “Some fantasy tylenol, a lot of cuddles, and some chicken soup and we’ll be fine.”

Dad’s touch was a little chilly, but welcome all the same. “Nothing to worry about,” he said.

When he said it, you could be sure.

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They took a few years to begin. Having the actual legends available in real life, in the newspapers, in the bookstores, tended to quell those of a cultish mind. Nevertheless, they began all the same.

There was the cult of Jeffandrew, which fizzled for the most part and lead a secluded life in the cracks when it did find a rare foothold. It was always covert. It was always discrete. It was always unreliable as a faith.

People could really get to Believe in the Seven Birds. They were real people. Real people with extraordinary abilities, granted, but real people all the same. The Twins wrote a series of books about their exploits: before, during, and after their hundred-year mission to strange new worlds and new civilisations.

For the most part, the Seven Birds had had enough of adventuring, and that was perfect for creating… cults.

Altars sprang up inside the first decade. Not just to the Seven Birds, but to those heavily associated with them. Those who came to The Twins prayed to be re-united with lost family members. Those who came specifically to Lup’s altars hoped to resolve a long-lasting crush. Those who came to Taako prayed for resolutions to great wrongs.

People came to The Lover to reaffirm long-held vows, to swear new ones, to ask for true and lasting love, and to beg for more time.

People asked The Protector for strength in battle, for the power to keep their loved ones safe, for help in dire straits.

Those who prayed to The Lonely Journal Keeper prayed for fortitude to endure, as Lucretia had endured. They prayed for a dissolution of writer’s block. They prayed for a third option when the initial two were abhorrent.

Nevermind that it was Taako who saw it, the people Believed, and they Believed that Lucretia was the one who gave it to the entire world.

Those who went to The Peacemaker never went there for healing, which was probably just as well. They came to ask for a means to end conflict, and some for bountiful crops… though it was better not to investigate what those crops were.

The ones who prayed to The Wordless One prayed for successful journeys, for clarity of mind, for clarity of speech… for success at cards. For restoration of memory. For restoration of that which was lost.

They weren’t always successful prayers. That wasn’t the point. The point was that people prayed. In prayers, in belief, there is power.

They prayed also to The Detective, to The Bard, The Wedded Warriors… they prayed to The Artificer and The Deals Warlock and The Reaper and The Inventor’s Son. Some even prayed to The Bugbear.

Time ran out for living legends, as time inevitably does. Some lived their full span of life, some more than that. Some had far less. What mattered was the prayers, the Belief.

It’s quite a shock to wake up dead. It’s even more of a shock to wake up dead and deified.

A new pantheon made of people who once were flesh and blood. Given power, given elevation. Given a place in the Celestial Plane. All through Belief. New gods and goddesses, with new powers and responsibilities… and new dumb-ass followers they had to look after.

Just like all the other gods.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 0]

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Originally posted by rosiitea

Thank you, Nonny. I’m glad I made your day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…’s so smol…” he whimpered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babies every gods-damned where…”

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

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

“Jealous?”

“…oooh they’re so tiny…”

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

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

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

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

“Istus should’a given me one, too.”

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

“You didn’t have a body at the time.”

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

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

Angus smacked his tongue and remained asleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]

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

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

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

Neat.

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

None of it made an impact on Koko.

“So what were you out doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…no reason not to,” he mumbled.

*

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

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

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

They had no idea.

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

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

He couldn’t care, anymore.

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

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

He was a shell.

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

Talking dust.

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

Now?

He couldn’t connect with why.

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

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

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

…miles to go before he could sleep…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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“Da-a-ad…”

“He’s your dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tree shape it or something, I dunno.”

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

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

“So…” prompted Taako.

“Yes, grampa?”

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

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

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

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

In spite of how they were feeling, Lugnuts laughed.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The things I do for love…

*

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

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

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

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

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

“But…” Kravitz prompted.

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

“Everything he knew was wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Dove.”

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

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

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OK thanks for that. I’ll get rid of that post until I trip across better info.