Gotta be honest here, the whole private angle flipped a few little alarms with me. Maybe you’re shy or maybe you’re not confident about RP’ing where everyone can see you. I don’t know.

Since you want to play Ango, my first and foremost rule is set in stone:

NOTHING SKEEVY.

I’m insisting on PG-only stuff. End of. Plus I’m 46 and I have no idea how old you are and the parent/mentor-child dynamic is heavy in the air with this pairing [though Magnus & Angus give off stronger bullying-older-sibling/bullied-younger-sibling vibes]

All that said, Angus is my sweet little boi and I would much rather cherish him and let him have nice things no matter what the canonical shenanigans have to say. I could wax lyrical about how Taako talks a big game about not caring for Angus at all but secretly stanning the boy, but… let’s not go there and pretend I did.

Speaking of not going there: Kinning.

I understand that some folks have a really strong relationship with fictional characters and that’s their thing. As long as they’re not hurting anyone, that’s fine. Mildly annoying, but fine.

Myself - I have a deliberate disconnect between reality and fiction and I have strong concerns about people who don’t separate those two. As long as we’re playing and not being, I’m okay. The instant you start looking for -say- real world Caleb Cleveland novels, I shall be very worried about you.

[One of my Wordpress Wednesdays is going to be about Kinning and Kinners and why I’m worried about them so much. I am of the opinion that there should be a divide between reality and fiction and that’s all on me]

One of our discussions should definitely be about how canon-compliant we’re being and whether or not future live shows are going to be blended into the game. What headcanons are good, what ones we’d rather ignore. All of that.

I have a Discord, but I’d rather not make it public to Tumblr. If you’re cool with all of this, feel free to send me a DM and we can go deeper.

Apologies for sounding mean, but I promise a lot of this is to protect you as well as me. Comfort and safety are important.

Very tempting. I have an interestingly disorganised life, so the time schedules would depend entirely on whatever moments we share consciousness in.

Next week, for instance, I am off to visit a friend and may not have much time to scratch my arse or do my daily Instants in, let alone gather together the mental wherewithall for the TAZ ficlets.

The week after that might be fine. Might.

All that said… if you’re fine with my headcannons, I’m fine with playing with them with you. Who would you wish to play? More important - who would you like me to play?

This was the day that Angus had been dreading. Parent and teacher night had begun. Some parents were dreaded already, like Susan, who was there to badger everyone about how brilliant her darling little Jason was and how it was discriminatory that he was kept from the halls of Miller Academy.

The other one they dreaded was Taako. Who could now blaze right through all the checks and barriers to stop him haranguing the teachers and just go off at everyone who he thought wasn’t doing their job. Angus was dreading that part.

What he hadn’t anticipated was Kravitz. Who turned up in a resplendently fancy suit, looking like he existed to be Taako’s arm candy. Angus thought he’d let Taako take the lead.

Kravitz, however, had his own concerns about modern education. “I don’t see any indicators in regards to penmanship or calligraphy in his report cards,” he said to every. Single. Teacher. “A good, neat hand is essential for everyone’s future.”

“Not since Miller Labs released the autodictator pen. Actually, since the book of transcription, handwriting has been less important.”

“When did that happen?”

“Three hundred years ago, sir,” Angus sighed.

“Yeah, I did like, half my first book with a book of transcription. The editing was hell, though,” said Taako. “Anyway, back to this bullshit alleged curriculum of yours…”

Then there was the issue of maths…

“The entire family worked on this piece of shit problem for five fucking hours…”

“You need to send more detailed instructions for parents helping their kids.”

“The Seven Birds literally couldn’t do that one, and we’re fucking legends.”

Angus was shocked. “You got Madam Director in on that one, sirs?”

“Hell yeah,” said Taako. “Delegate to the nerds, that’s how we do.”

Kravitz got their train of thought back onto the tracks. “Can you show us how this one is supposed to work?”

That took three hours, including the arguments about why it shouldn’t work.

The pinnacle of suck for Angus happened when they got to his music teacher.

“Why,” said Kravitz, edging into his Work Accent, “the fock, is Angus marked down for music? I’ve been teaching our boy everything ‘e knows.”

“Elementary music theory isn’t about improvisation,” said the luckless teacher. “It isn’t about influence… It’s about learning the rules.”

“Well, if he’s more advanced than this class,” said Kravitz, “move him up.”

The music teacher said what they said to parents like Susan. “It’s necessary to earn a passing grade at elementary music theory before moving on to more advanced classes. It isn’t me, it’s the rules of the academy. We have to be certain that students are qualified for the work.”

“Angus, sweetie, why don’t you play All For the Stars for this blatant ignoramus?”

“Sir…” Angus protested.

“Play for the man, Agnes. What’s to lose?”

My dignity, thought Angus. “This isn’t an audition, sir. It’s my fault for getting bored in class. It’s the school rules and all the playing I can do wouldn’t change anyone’s mind.”

“Your son has a firm grasp of the situation,” said the teacher, leaving the, Why don’t you? unspoken. “Playing anything wouldn’t change–”

“Play for the man,” Taako insisted. “We know you’re better than an entry-level class. Show everyone.”

“Sir–”

Great. Now everyone was looking. Taako had a piercing voice and knew how to pitch it to carry to the crowd.

“This is my boy and he can play up a storm.” Taako started a chant. “Play! Play! Play! Play…”

Angus wished he had Shape Earth so he could vanish into a hole into the ground. He shared a sympathetic moment with the music teacher who rolled their eyes; and eventually made a go-ahead gesture.

Angus, ears steaming from the heat of mortification, sighed and played. Not Kravtiz’s suggestion. Not March of the Forgotten, which was a hardy favourite, but a different composition from Johann. He’d called it, Even the Unworthy.

Angus had loved it. It was his favourite. It made him feel like he could be valued even when nobody could possibly appreciate him. It made him feel good about himself when it seemed like nobody else could harbour any kind feeling.

He sat back down when he was done, not listening to the applause or his adopted parents’ bragging. in between the hubbub, he managed. “I’m gonna try harder to stick to the rules, sir.”

“I’ll do what I can to get you bumped up as soon as possible.”

Deal struck, Angus did his best to survive the rest of the evening without spontaneously combusting from sheer embarrassment.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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Koko had frozen halfway through putting his costume on. He was staring off in a particular direction with a lovelorn expression on his face.

“Focus, dear,” said Lulu, yanking the leotard all the way up to his shoulders. “We’re on in five.”

“I can’t help it, he’s gorgeous,” Koko sighed.

Lulu tweaked the piece of tarpaulin so that it blocked his view of this particular circus’ knife thrower, Kustaad the Magnificent. “He’s straight as an arrow and knows you’re underage, Koko. Give up.”

“But he’s gorgeous…”

“Everybody knows, Koko. Including his wife.” She made faces at him so she could fix his makeup. “You might have a chance with his son…”

Koko murmured uncertainly. “I know they’re unhappy, I heard them fighting…”

“That wasn’t fighting, bro-bro.”

“Three minutes, wonder twins! Goggles on or Harkin’s gonna scrag you!”

Because Harkin believed in Witch Eyes and so did a large portion of the audience. Lulu put his on because Koko wasn’t focussing on any damn thing but the wants of his own groin.

Lulu grabbed his face. “We are going to be jumping around at each other thirty feet off the ground, brother-dear. I need you to focus on the most important people - us.”

He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers. “I know. I know. Mind on the job.”

“Good,” she breathed easier. Just in time for them to wow the audience with glitter and dazzle.

*

There he was! The most beautiful man Koko had ever met. He was sweaty and out of breath from his part of the show and Kustaad just stole what little breath he had left. He still had a smile for the man. “Did you see?” he panted. “Amazing, right?”

Kustaad said what he always said, since he was literally old enough to be Koko’s father. “You did good, kid. If I was your dad, I’d be proud of you.” And he petted Koko’s head like a loving parent might.

Of course he did. He had a kid Koko’s age. That hurt.

At least Koko had the sense not to share the acres of bad poetry he’d written about being painfully in love with an older man who wasn’t even aware that gay people existed.

Meanwhile, there was Kri. Kustaad’s son who was a mere handful of years Koko’s junior. Sure, Kri could mature to be just like his father, but he was a weedy Elven junior of about Seventy.

Who was definitely in adoration of Koko, and might have a baby crush. “I saw you,” said Kri. “You were amazing! You’re always amazing. When you did that flip and swapped around to leap backwards? I swear my heart stopped.”

It wouldn’t be fair to lead Kri along when he was so badly in love with Kustaad. And it wasn’t fair to Kri to not at least be friendly. “We got us a situation, huh?” he said.

“Huh?” echoed Kri.

“You got a thing for me. I got a thing for… someone else. It kind’a hurts, right?”

Kri sighed, pain in his eyes. “Yeah. It does.”

Taako took a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know exactly how much this hurts.”

“Wish it didn’t,” said Kri.

“Your mouth to the gods’ ears,” said Koko.

That night, he would spend three hours waxing lyrical to Lulu about the great sacrifices he had made in the name of love. Making friends with a younger kid and bonding over how painful love can be when it wasn’t returned.

All so Kustaad could be happy that his son Kri had a reason to be happy.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 3]

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The flat was dark when he returned. This was nothing new. What with the frenetic activities of two super-genius nosy busibodies, there were many times that their flat was dark and empty when one of them returned to it.

Nothing new on the noticeboard, their chief way of non-facetime communication. Not even an encoded dirty limerick. There were only shelf-stable ingredients in the pantry, of course. They weren’t in long enough or often enough to trust things like eggs and milk to last long enough between uses. Taako would flip at the dehydrated eggs and the long-life milk cartons, but… he never had to know about this flat and he liked it that way.

What gave Angus pause was the bag on the hatrack.

Agatha’s bag, and her bandolier of useful things. Hung on the hook like they always were when she was in.

He followed her usual path from hatrack to bedroom, finding her shoes kicked off and laying where they’d fallen. She must have had a long and tiring day, then collapsed into bed for a short nap.

She was curled in a ball on top of their bed. Clothing tossed off in brief fits of uncomfortable consciousness. In the grey light of darkvision, Angus could see a sheen of perspiration on her beautiful skin.

And hear…

thrrtt… thrrtt… thrrtt…

The soft, barely audible, broken purr of clear distress. He didn’t need to touch her to know she was sick, but when he did, she was burning hot. Her feet were ice cold and her brow was hot enough to cook soup on. When he added a gentle, questing hand to her belly, she moaned in protest, but didn’t wake.

Right. This was bad, bad beans.

He left a note for her on the board, just, Gone out for supplies - G. and hurried to where he could get some fresh stuff at this hour. Taako always insisted that fresh and as natural as possible was always the best. Ginger. Garlic. Chicken stock. Chicken. Vegetables. Cinnamon. Honey. Lemon. Socks of Comfort. Compress of Cooling. Seven different things that promised to soothe an upset stomach and enough painkillers to cause concern in the clerk.

“Sick wife,” said Angus. “We’ve only been married a couple of months.”

“What’s she got?”

Angus listed off the known symptoms and asked if there was anything else that could help her out. Unfortunately, the answer was negative.

He rushed back and got the tea started and carefully wriggled the socks onto her cold feet. Then equally as carefully eased the compress onto her fevered brow. Next - soup.

Taako had indeed taught him everything he knew about cooking, including the bare basics and variations of his nigh-famous ginger garlic chicken soup. Good for anything that ailed a body except maybe death. Even then, it had been known to warm literally the coldest heart.

Tea ready, Angus got together some painkillers - ones also good for easing a fever - and a few stomach remedies and brought them to Agatha.

She was resting a little easier, which made it horrible to wake her up. She complained with an inchoate groan.

“I know, love,” he cooed. “Got some stuff to help you feel better, babe.”

“Thanks babe,” she croaked, fighting to attain an upright position. Painkillers and stomach meds, then slow sips of tea. “…dunno what this is, but it hit me like an ogre.”

“Clerk said it’s going around. The good news is, it goes through quick. The bad news is, it’s hell.”

“Don’t catch it?”

“Trying not to.”

He let her rest for the two hours it took for the soup to be done. Sleep was her ally in this battle. Then it was time to wake her and feed her as much as she could stomach.

Good thing half-Elves could meditate just as well as the full-blooded ones. He’d need that little trick to stay fresh whilst Agatha needed care.

It was hell. And it was over inside of four days. Agatha was left weak, wrung out, and wan, but she would get better from there. Which was just as well, because he had been incredibly worried for those four days.

The best thing in the world was being able to snuggle up next to her without a worry in his head. It was also the best sleep he’d had in a week.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 4]

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Well if you don’t wanna plough through Unexpected Warmth over on AO3, I can give you the cliff notes of the generic version [each time I rewrite it, I add wrinkles or leave some yadda-yadda’d to maintain reader interest.

• Kravitz is, technically speaking 2000(+) years old
  
• When he was alive, it was a way more superstitious and ignorant world
• He grew up to be a bard and discovered he was gay as hell
• This was not viewed as a good thing by his fellow villagers and they blamed demons
• Would-be boyfriend, Byl, was the exact sort of shit to string Krav along whilst also dishing dirt to anyone who’d reward him for that shit. Krav is young and love-blind and kind’a stupid like that
• They had exactly one wonderful summer of sneaking off and holding hands together (aawww…)
• Enter a long-ass winter with a really poor spring and a nonexistent summer. Talk of curses abound because superstitious and ignorant.
• Finger of blame points at local demon-boy
• Byl betrays Kravitz by setting up a fairy tale near-wedding or wedding expy and Krav swallows it wholesale
• Byl literally sinks the knife in
• Enter Raven Queen, there to collect an unsworn soul
• Krav runs until spiritual exhaustion. Swaps eternal service for seeing one more summer
• Three lacks of summer pass, the village dies (Byl gets sacrificed first. Yay?) before summer finally comes.
• Krav only feels the cold of death, but he enters RQ’s service anyway and has been cold ever since until…
• Taako brings the warmth of love into his heart again (Huzzah!)

The explanation being that love for Taako is what warmed him from the heart outwards. Which is why his breath warms up his hands and face in some episodes.

[AN: (Still Alive playing in the background) Taagnus isn’t my favourite but I can see how they’d be FWB during SC]

Magnus was used to being strong for Taako. That was how it worked. Then Taako was feeling weak, lonely, or emotionally tired. It happened more often when Lup died. He really had to be strong then, because Taako was most likely to go off the rails when his sister was dead.

Today, though, some random virus had managed to assault him. Something that had killed Barry and was close to killing Luce… and now had got to him despite their best efforts to prevent it.

He felt like dog shit that had been dragged backwards through a hedge and set on fire. He felt weaker than a newborn kitten and less able to focus on the world outside his bed.

Hot soup and cold water kept appearing by his bedside. Cold compresses and hot water bottles eased his discomfort. He was dimly aware that someone was sponge-bathing him.

It was a sweat-soaked and uncomfortable time, but someone was invested in his survival and, given that Merle was shitty at that sort of thing. The weight he sometimes sensed on his bed was too heavy to be Cap’n’port. He hadn’t thought anyone else was even bothered with his continued existence. He’d be back next year like nothing ever happened to him.

Why should they care?

His name was Magnus Burnsides. He was eighteen. He’d been eighteen for twenty-five years. As time slipped out of his grasp, he didn’t know whether to curse this attempted saviour or bless them. It all depended how shit he felt whenever consciousness wrestled with him and won.

Blink.

Retching into a tub. Someone’s hand was stopping him from falling out of his bunk and into his own puke. Soaked in sweat and down to his undies under a sheet that had been tossed on and off.

“Let it out,” said a voice on the edge of his awareness. “Don’t hold back i’morko.”

A glass of water. Cool and fresh. Pressed to his lips. “Rinse. Spit.”

He did that.

The form that leaned him back on the mess of pillows was a blur in the reds and golds of the mission uniform. Couldn’t be Taako. Taako always ditched the uniform at the first opportunity.

“…who?” he croaked.

“Don’t sweat it. Here.”

A concoction of milk, herbs, and honey. Comfort-warm and a blessing on his ravaged throat. The stabbing in his stomach eased.

“Just rest.”

Blink.

Shivering in the darkness. So cold. A presence leaning over him Snuggling up close. Whoever they were, they were a furnace. Someone moved around the hot water bottles. Someone brushed his face. Calloused hands.

“Sssh. Sshh-shh… Deep breaths, now. Deep breaths.”

He tried his best until he sank back down again.

Blink.

The soup had chunks in it. “You remember how to chew, right?”

He did that. The meat was spicy and soft. The liquid around it was warm and comforting. The blur in front of him was a little clearer. Darkish skin with lighter patches. Golden hair tied up in a red kerchief. He couldn’t focus on the eyes and easily tell which twin had the tonic.

“…lup?”

“Guess again, homeslice.”

Blink.

It might be daytime, but he was alone. Sprawled out on his bunk and unable to lift a finger. Running footsteps coming towards his position and he couldn’t even move his head.

The red blur was back, fiddling with his button fly and muttering under his breath. “…stoopid-ass fashion designers, those assholes never had t’ pee in a hurry in their lives…”

Magnus smiled. He knew that complaint. By heart. His voice was a rough and ghostly rasp. “…hey taako…”

Taako finished wrestling with is upper buttons. “Hey. Feeling better yet?”

“I feel like wrung-out laundry after it’s been beat on a rock.”

“Yeah, that’d about get it. Luce said that’s how she felt when she beat it. You’re on the way back up. So there’s that good news.” He made to feel Magnus’ brow.

“You wash your hands?”

Now he could focus on Taako’s mismatched glare. “No, I stuck both hands up my ass and came straight to you.” His hands were damp and smelled of the lavender soap they made on weekends. “Fever’s broken. Want help getting into the shower? ‘Cause you smell like boiled ass.”

“You’d know what boiled ass smells like,” quipped Magnus. Which was a cue to the usual joke.

“Of course I do, I boiled your ass the last time you died. Stank up the ship for two weeks.”

He laughed so hard he fell to fits to coughing.

“Easy, now. Easy. No joking for another week.”

“What? No sponge bath?”

“Naw, ya gotta try an’ walk as soon as you can. You got some atrophy going on, and -uh- don’t look.”

Given how weak he felt just sitting up, he decided not to look at how bad he’d got. The crew had taken to covering any mirror on board when disease or injury ravaged the survivor’s bodies and faces. There was already a cloth over the mirror in the bathroom.

Close to, Taako also looked like hell. There were signs of Blight up his neck and his eyes were hollow. He had a kind of boiled ass aroma to him and his hair was kind’a greasy.

“Were you looking after me the whole time?”

Taako rolled his mismatched eyes and scoffed. “No…” which was Taako-ese for ‘yes’.

Magnus didn’t argue with his horseshit. He just said, “Thanks,” and added, “Maybe you should help me stand in the shower.”

“Eh. Whatever.”

Which was Taako-ese for, “Sure, but don’t make a big deal out of that.”

They showered together with a few more hugs than necessary. Just two people surviving the disaster together. He didn’t say a word about them sharing a bed to rest. He didn’t say a word about how often Taako actually showed he cared during his recovery.

That was how they rolled. That was how it worked. For them.

[TAZ Prompts remaining: 5]

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He said he’d be back soon. Ango was the most honest kid in the multiverse, and Taako hadn’t doubted him at the time. Soon, to Taako’s mind, was something within a week or two.

He was concerned by the end of week one. Outright fretting by week two. So worried that he couldn’t rest at all by week three.

“He’s still okay, right?” Taako asked Krav, Lup, or Barry whenever they came home. “He’s still alive, right?”

By halfway through week four, just ‘alive’ wasn’t enough. Taako took his best long-distance Deer, his most thorough spellcasting ingredients, and all his spell focii and gadgets, Angus’ duplicate Book of Transcription, and took off.

He had refined Locate Creature to a greater range and could narrow down a general direction if within ten miles of his targets location. He extrapolated most of a path from Angus’ book. He forgot to eat. He didn’t sleep. He was too disturbed to meditate.

Four days out from the farmhouse, Krav appeared while Taako let Dh’ondahr[1] grazed and took water. He was seriously pondering magecrafting a crystal storehouse for the beast while he used Garyl to keep moving when his husband appeared through a rift.

“He’s still alive, right?”

“Yes, Dove. He’s still alive.”

Taako could breathe. “Istus says he’s going to be okay?”

“Dove… I came because you’re not okay. When was the last time you ate?”

“I’m good. I’ve got lembas.”

“Dove…”

“I haven’t been hungry,” he said, unable to deny the love of his life. “For… four days.”

Krav took the lembas Taako had waved around and broke it along its pressed fault lines. “Eat, Dove. For me? For Ango?”

It was one of his best recipes, but it tasted like ash as he ate mechanically.

Krav brought his hurdy-gurdy out from his personal hammerspace.

“Oh fuck you,” grumbled Taako.

“You know I have to, Babe.” He sang, “Sleep, Taako, sleep, you’ve worn yourself to shreds/ Tomorrow come on back to tearing up Faerun’s green breast/ There’s no-one you can blame, just circumstances threads…” He did not cast Sleep, as Taako was naturally immune to that. He cast Calm Emotion. Which had the same net effect that Sleep would have on anyone else.

Taako was conked out before the last line.

Krav was still watching over him come the dawn. He had made coffee and a servicable breakfast on the campfire.

“I hate you,” said Taako without any conviction.

“No you don’t,” said Krav with every ounce of confidence. “You needed this. One day, you may even admit it.”

Taako mumbled, “I have to find our boy,” into his eggs as he bolted them down.

“I’ll try to stop by,” Krav soothed. “Look after yourself, okay? You can’t look after Ango if you’re falling over.”

“Sure,” said Taako, but he was already up and making ready to go. “Wish you could zero in on not-death-criminals.”

“Same, Dove. Same.”

Three days later, Taako found Angus in Ravensroost. The entire town was in the middle of reconstruction and apparently belonged to dogs. Well. Mostly dogs. All of them were happy to see him and would eventually sit when told. Magnus. loaded down with rebuilding materials, waved. “I got your kid,” he hollered.

Taako, in no mood to argue about Angus ownershio, bellowed, “WHERE’S MY BABY?”

Ango was laid up in the Ravensroost hostel with a broken leg in traction. It was telling that he somehow found an issue of Caleb Cleveland to read. Someone had given him a bowl of stew and a bell.

“Oh. Hello, sir. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Of course he knew Taako had been fretting. Signs like the Blight were hard to obscure. Plus he hadn’t applied his usual glamour since… three weeks ago.

Taako fell across him in a very out-of-character hug. “Don’t do that to me again,” he said, holding his boy close. “Don’t do that to me ever.”

He barely heard, “I won’t, sir. And next time, I’ll take along the Stone of Farspeech. So you can contact me when I’m on a case.”

He was out of it before any further explanation reached his pointed ears.

[1] A traditional Elven name for deer.

[AN: I mean… he can…]

“Sir, there’s an Orc claiming that he’s family, wanting to see your baby,” said the nurse. “If you want him escorted from the premises–”

“Neosemo?” Angus started up from his chair. “My boy is here?”

The nurse looked startled. Agatha and Agnes were sleeping, but Agatha opened one eye and mumbled, “Cool it.”

Angus gingerly toured around the bed as he murmured, “I can verify his identity if I can just see him…”

Neosemo was waiting politely near the ‘no admittance’ sign. He saw Angus through the window in the door and waved.

“There’s my boy,” cheered Angus, speeding up to greet his adopted son with a hug.

“Hey Dad,” said Neosemo. “I got here as soon as I could.” To the nurse, he said, “Can I see my baby sister now?”

Angus made much ado about insisting that all remained quiet, because newborns needed their sleep to grow. Agnes was two days old and Agatha was still recovering from getting her out into the world.

Thusly, Neosemo entered the ward on tip-toe.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, “Elf babies are fucking tiny…”

Agatha opened one eye again. “You try pushing one out, sometime.”

Neosemo gave her a tusky grin. “Yeah, okay. I won’t complain again. Can I hold her, yet?”

Agatha scooted over. “Come beside me. You know how to be gentle, right?”

“Medical degree. Yeah.”

It was still an exercise in whispered tutorials. The infant Agnes complained about the transfer, and blinked at Neosemo.

“Hi there, little one,” he cooed. “I’m your big brother.”

Agnes frowned at him, then set up a howl. Much to the amusement of all around her.

“She’ll get used to you,” promised Agatha. “That, and she might be hungry again.”

“She has a stomach the size of a walnut,” said Angus, who had been studying this sort of thing. “She can’t help it.”

Neosemo was grinning. “It’s still a story I can taunt her with for decades to come,” he chuckled. “Long after I’m a famous and well-travelled Cleric.”

Of course he would. There was no such thing as a sibling who didn’t have ammunition against their brothers and sisters.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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This week’s big bad was preying on wealthy newlyweds, hijacking wedding jewellery and any other valuables. When they weren’t kidnapping the most affluent member of the pair for ransom.

There were suspicions of Dark Magic happening to those who didn’t earn the ransom. They were certainly never seen again. Not alive, for sure.

This band had a type. They liked the younger couples, and the wealthier, the better. Therefore, the Bureau of Benevolence picked Angus and Agatha as the ideal team to be bait.

Agatha looked splendid - better than splendid - in the dress they had found for her. Angus rather fancied he looked spectacular in the suit he wore. Their luggage was loaded with the right kind of jewellery and they booked the most expensive Honeymoon Suite. They talked loudly of expensive plans as part of a Faerun-wide tour, as they checked in.

It was easy to act like he was ridiculously in love with Agatha, since he was. It was fun to kiss and be goopy in each other’s general direction without any comments from the peanut gallery - otherwise known as Tres Horny Boys.

The suite was amazing. Room service and wine and laughter together as they watched Fantasy Pay-Per-View together in bed.

It was the fifteenth kiss that did it for him. Angus made a decision.

“I can’t wait to do something like this for real,” he said.

“Theft and potential murder aren’t real enough for you?” she teased.

He had to laugh. “I mean I’d love it if you’d marry me, Agatha Tremaine.” He circled the fake engagement ring around on her finger. “I’ll get you a real one as soon as we’re done here. First thing.”

“Gosh, this is so sudden,” she said, quizzaciously sarcastic. “Nothing at all like the other times.”

“You didn’t say ‘no’,” he said. “You always said stuff like, ‘really. Now?’ and didn’t give me an answer.”

She leaned up on her elbow. “I’m going to have to answer you or keep facing this question, aren’t I?”

“That would be ideal,” he purred.

She kissed him. “Fine. Yes. I’d love to make our partnership official.” They sealed the deal with an extensive make-out session. Which was, unfortunately, interrupted by the hotel staff who were the theft/kidnapping ring.

Those idiots were immediately and instantly trounced.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

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