There are many names for it. The paddy wagon, the come-along cart, the chunderbox… Whatever it’s named, it’s usually used to haul masses prisoners to incarceration, and its use is mandatory in City Watch pre-nuptual parties. Stag night, hen night, bachelor parties, spinster parties… they have many names too.

Sno expected the SWAT gear, and the wagon, and the blindfold. She did not expect to emerge in a sort of picnic area and what looked like giant, colourful blocks. They suited her up in some armour and safety goggles. Half the precinct’s officers were wearing blue armbands. The other half were wearing red. She had a red armband.

Avi had a red one, too. It was the lower ranks against the higher brass. Including their captain.

Then he handed her a paintball gun and they all filed onto the range with the colourful blocks.

“You’re telling me that we’re to shoot at our commanding officer?” she said, seemingly appalled. “Avi, I couldn’t possibly - SNEAK ATTACK!” Pow, pow pow!

The games were on. They were really more fun than they should have been.

The only worrying part was the gigantic cake lurking incongruously near the range. In plain view like the Eiffel Tower was in plain view in Paris. Avi had to have something planned, but she knew it wouldn’t happen until they had all finished shelling the living piss out of the senior brass.

It was more fun than should have been legal, and the Chief was all colours of the rainbow when they all staggered off the range to crack some cold ones.

Sno wasn’t far behind the rainbow parade, having got as good as she gave, but now that the safety goggles were off, her eyes kept drifting back towards the gigantic, fake cake.

Following that, and a wash and a change of clothes, it was back in the wagon for another blindfolded trip to somewhere far more intimate, with friends and family. Or so Avi said.

“I know you have something planned with that cake, Burnsides,” she managed, losing track of the turns they took. “It didn’t pop off at the range… what’s going on?”

Avi, annoyingly, said, “Spoilers.”

Sno stewed on that for all of five minutes before she said, “This is about the stunt I pulled for yours, isn’t it?”

“Spoilers…” This time, there was a breathy giggle underneath the noise of the engines.

The door opened to Koko in white tie and tails, “M’lady, this way to the extravaganza…” He offered his elbow and handed her down out of the wagon as if he were handing royalty out of their armoured car. He was the very image of picture perfect grace and style.

The facade of the place he was leading her into had a palatial feel, and there were other friends and family playing the roles of entourage for this part of her journey. Lulu became her personal assistant, and Sno was sure she spotted her Mom as one of the makeover assistants, but it was hard to tell because they kept blinding her with cucumber slices.

On one hand, the spa and makeover sesh was exactly what she needed to unwind after the looming cake on the range. On the other hand, she still had no idea what the hell Burnsides was up to.

They dressed her up in the frilliest, fanciest, faberge meringue of a Princess Dress, replete with enough bling to sink a barge. Gave her a few lessons on how to behave like a Princess, including how to walk in unfamiliar heels. Then they turned her into the Grand Banquet Hall for the “Suitor’s Ball.”

There were definitely a few Fantasy Chippendales in the mix. Orc, Dragonborn, Humanman, Elf, Tiefling… even an Aarakocra. All civil as hell when she danced to the orchestra’s tune. Yet, lurking in a corner off to the side of the buffet… there was that damned fake cake again. Sticking out like a baboon’s buttocks. Taunting her.

She almost didn’t notice Mukaara taking her hand.

“It’s not a proper Princess Experience without your Prince, right?” he said.

Well. At least he was going to share in the mortification when the inevitable happened. “You are my best nerd,” she whispered. “Where’s Mom and her -uh- ‘work friends’?”

“Being paparazzi?”

Utter confusion. “What? All of them?”

“Yahuh.”

Suspicion. “Where’s Burnsides?”

“Dancing with his grandkid on his feet. Why?”

“See the cake on your ten?”

Mukaara looked. “Oh shit. This is about the thing with the nuns, right?”

“Yeah. I thought he’d forgiven me, but… yeah.”

It was a mostly enjoyable night, if it wasn’t for that fucking cake, it would have been perfect. The glitter, the glamour, the chance to be as girly as she liked without judgement… Sno loved it.

She just couldn’t forget about the cake, though.

Burnsides, when she could catch a glance at him - or a murder glare at him - was loving every inch of the evening.

All good things still came to an end, with Magnus dragging Mukaara off for an overdue bucks’ night, and Sno catching a pumpkin-shaped carriage all the way back to her flat with an evilly-smirking partner in the other seat.

“Okay, Burnsides. What the fuck?”

“Revenge,” he said. “I had you dreading that cake all night, didn’t I?”

“Who was in there?”

“Nobody. It’s empty. A dummy. A blank.”

“YOU GOT ME ANXIOUS OVER A FUCKING BLANK CAKE?”

He laughed. “Revenge served cold, Nono-dear.”

“You know I’m gonna owe you big time for that.”

“True, but you can’t fault the artistry of it.”

She had to admit. He had her on that one. “This wedding better go off without a snag. And without a certain cake.”

“Aw, but Barry was gonna jump out of it for the Reception…”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 1]

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Bad news: My flash fiction prompt thing is over here.

Good news: I added this prompt over there and it will turn up as a story in the fullness of time

[AN: I can certainly try]

Every day, Barclay had a good reason to curse the name of Ned Fuckin’ Chicane. That good reason was Agent “up your ass” Stern. Hanging out at the lodge, investigating things. Asking questions. Being underfoot.

“What does everyone do around here?”

(Try to pretend to have everyday lives.)

“What’s with the menu? Is it normal to have this much variety?”

(So many Sylphs had special diets, it was easier just to have those options available.)

“Man, I love those springs. I feel so energised whenever I’ve used them. What’s the secret?”

(Barclay made up some bullshit about trace minerals.)

So, in desperation, Barclay was taking Agent Stern around Kepler for a sightseeing spree. The active waterparks, the inactive ones where some of the kids went to skate. The local all-in-one takeout place. The general store. The stores that weren’t so general and were -generally- a place for the local hobbyists to keep their completed works.

And, of course, the Cryptonomica.

Barclay knew damn well that the “unedited footage” in the Cryptonomica - available for a fee - was heavily edited to remove any footage that could be plausibly used forensically. Kirby had added digital ‘snow’ to the cuts so that they looked like something hit the camera and caused a flaw.

Stern watched it four times.

Barclay couldn’t stand to watch it once. He hated being photographed even with his Seeming on. Being caught as Bigfoot, even with Ned’s shaky photography, was worse than excruciatingly embarrassing. Worse, there was only so much time he could spend staring at all of Chicane’s fake bullshit exhibits.

Stern finally emerged. “Amazing. Amazing. That has to be the best footage I’ve ever seen.”

Barclay kept his voice low. “You know it’s all fake, right?”

Stern frowned. “I know most Bigfoot films are faked,” he allowed. “This is the most realistic footage I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, costumes are amazing, these days. Ned’s quite the artist. Look at this,” he pointed to the mummified remnants of some mythical creature in a case. There were no other rubes around, but he still kept his voice to a whisper. “Looks real, right?”

“It is impressive…”

“Chicken bones, A little plaster. A lot of toilet paper, and some latex. Paint and low light does the rest. I can show you how to make ‘em.” It was a good thing he knew, too. He could make a very convincing copy.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can even show you how he turned a cheap-ass Star Wars costume into that realistic-looking Sasquatch you were just drooling over.”

That was a beginning of something interesting. Something… Barclay might have regretted if he’d had the foresight to see it.

Barclay had a little workshop in an out-of-the-way space off the beaten path of Kepler proper. In it, he had all sorts of things that the old team had used to use for disguises and suchlike. He had absorbed most of the skills by osmosis and, in a pinch, could claim that it had been a few years since he’d applied those skills.

He never anticipated Stern having fun with it.

There were two projects, to begin with. The Sasquatch from Wookie, and the Mummified Thing. They were weeks at it. Adding convincing fur to the wookie costume, retooling the feet and adding extra internal structure to add height.

The Mummified Thing involved gathering or making interesting bones, and destroying any joints that might give the game away. Building up the layers of fake anatomy had them pressing their heads together over the fine details and finding things to laugh about.

He never expected to bond with the man. He certainly hadn’t expected to fall, ever so slowly, in love.

Every day, Barclay had good reason to bless the name of Ned Fuckin’ Chicane…

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 1]

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Magnus honestly did not mean to perv. He had successfully avoided glancing at Elven anatomy for three adventures, so far. It was here in this tiny space, changing into their null suits, that his gaze drifted onto what Taako happened to call underwear.

Those were not Fantasy MeUndies. They were panties. Definitely panties. Frilly, lacy, expensive-ass panties.

Well sure, he knew Taako was gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide, but still… panties were a little bit of a shock, all things considered.

“Checking me out, there, lugnuts?” Taako teased.

Magnus went redder than his null suit. Nevertheless, he fought to maintain some kind of composure. “Aw come on. Y’all’ve seen me with my dick out.”

“Much to my regret. You’re furrier than the gorillas in the Fantasy Congo.” Taako, still wrestling with getting his suit open, turned around, revealing that there was a printed lipstick kiss over his crotch and -yes- little satin bows with zero purpose. “See anything you like, there?”

Magnus couldn’t help himself. “I gotta have a pair of those for the next Midsummer Fair. Complete the look from the skin out.”

Taako pretended to retch whilst Magnus helped him open up his null suit. “Puh-leez. As if I’d assault my complete aesthetic with your hairy ass.”

“You didn’t mind my hairy ass in Goldcliff.”

Merle, fighting with how to do his suit back up, said, “I thought we agreed we were never going to mention that again.”

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 2]

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[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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I would have to listen to Amnesty at least a couple of times so I can get the ‘voice’ right. And get the continuity cemented into my noggin.

Like: right now, I have headcanons based entirely off the teaser portion of the Amnesty arc and plotlines that DO NOT MESH with the extended version. Like… I could likely do it, but the result might be a lot more wobbly than my Balance fics.

[I actually did a crossover with the Stolen Century that ‘returned’ Elves to the Amnesty worlds and had other shenanigans, like a talking Dr Harris Bonkers, PhD… and I do believe Tumbl Into TAZ has exactly one Amnesty fic]

That said - I go where my prompts take me and I try my best regardless.

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.