Reader Request #73

Lucretia decides she wants to look more regal and glamorous after her year alone on the judges planet and goes to the twins for help – missdreamgirl32

The white light re-wove itself into all the crew. As it always had. All in the position they were in when they breached the barrier between realities.

Magnus let go of the railing. Lup and Taako let go of each other. Barry let go of the railing. Merle let go of Davenport and Davenport let go of the wheel. Every single one of them was wondering how they made it out of that reality alive.

Then Lucretia let go of her books. Just… fucking dropped them onto the deck where she had been cringing when their world ended. She wasn’t cringing any more.

There were still more than a few hints of her usual timidity there, of course. Changes so profound weren’t always so obvious in mere seconds.

Lucretia set down her pen and ink, more careful about those than the books that had slammed onto the deck. All around them, they noticed that the Starblaster was in worse shape than they remembered.

“I did it,” she whispered. “It worked…”

Three months into their next reality, she came to the kitchens where Lup and Taako were where they belonged. Together, and cooking, and arguing in their friendly manner.

“If you’re looking to document my macaroon recipe, you can fuck off,” said Taako.

“No. It’s not that,” said Lucretia. “Um. I’d… like your advice in your other area of expertise.”

“You’re not getting my hachi-machi hot Hades Heartburn recipe either, babe,” said Lup.

“No, no. I mean.” She forced herself to stop her usual submissive huddle. “You. Both of you… Always find ways to command respect. You always look so… magnificent.”

“Natch,” said Taako.

“It’s in the genes,” said Lup.

They were currently both in ratty old clothes that were almost worn to a whisper. A garish combination of three different worlds’ full of disparate fashions. They still looked fucking amazing.

Taako’s hair hadn’t been brushed since he put it up in braids the evening before, and he still looked like he was runway ready.

“I… want to look better. I want… I’m tired of standing in the shadows and fading into the background. I’m tired of my own crew running perception checks so they don’t bump into me.” She took a deep breath. “I want to stand out.”

The twins got that speculative look they always got before pulling one of their epic pranks.

“Without looking like a fool,” Lucretia amended.

Taako blew a raspberry.

Lup sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Take all the fun out of it.”

“Nah. She’d tell everyone we told her to dress like that. It’d ruin our rep.”

Lup vented a long, anguish-filled groan. “Fiiiinnne. You, us, and all the trade goods we can wrangle. We’re going to the markets and giving you some kick-ass style advice, dear.”

“You’ve already failed step one,” said Taako, “which is, ‘be an Elf’, but we’re willing to work with that handicap. We’re magnanimous like that.”

The twins, of course, paid more attention to their usual look than they would have a month into a mission. Full uniform for both of them with all the stops pulled. Taako had even bothered to shine his boots.

They were representing the Starblaster, Elven kind, and whatever transformation they wrought upon her during the day.

There was a lot of walking. There was a great deal of either twin holding up things against her form and humming a lot. There was a lot of checking jewellery against her.

“Blue,” they decided before their mid-morning break. “Blue is definitely your colour.”

“Shades of blue,” said Lup. “Trim of white. Maybe small amounts of orange if you want it to pop.”

“Very small amounts of orange,” said Taako. “Little details. Fine trim level or less.”

“I see silver, I see sapphires, I see little bits of gold, maybe some amber… Heels f’r sure.”

“Lulu, she’s taller than both of us.”

“Yeah? So? She would fucking slay in heels.”

Lucretia took notes. They eventually found a plethora of clothes that gave her some regal aplomb. Some that would take her some years and a lot more courage to wear. Many that she would never wear for various reasons.

Some… she would rename later into calling them her “full business regalia” and use to command respect in her role as Madam Director in the Bureau of balance.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 10]

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The pace of the bride, the pace of the groom, tell all watching the measure, how much love bein’ true – Ancient Faerun saying.

Some arrangements had to be made. Johann didn’t have much in the way of family who claimed him, though he had made a plethora of friends who were far, far better. The entire ranks of the Precinct and some members of the Neverwinter City watch from outside of the Precinct were there. Sno’s family could not be stopped.

Well. The rowdy side of her family could not be stopped. Which meant that Lulu was there as a flower girl and Koko as a flower boy in a dress because why should his sister have all the fun of pretty dresses with fairy wings and flower crowns? La’ming Ton, Sno’s mother, was in amongst the ranks of Watch officers with her girlfriend. Another half-Elf by the name of Makarune.

She had been the seamstress who had seen to Johann’s outfit for today.

Avi, Sno, and all the other officers of the Watch in attendance had a much easier choice of wardrobe. Or rather, a lack of choice. Formal ceremony meant formal attire. End of discussion.

Dress blues, knee boots, dress sword, capelet, white gloves, and the plumed hat. On Sno, it looked crisp and vaguely menacing. Avi, on the other hand, couldn’t help feeling like a bit of a knob in the whole get-up.

His heart was in his mouth. This was it. This was the big day. This was where his life changed for the better for sharing it with Johann.

Soon to become Mr Johann Burnsides.

“Teeth,” said Sno.

He bared them, and she checked for anything embarrassing stuck in there. There shouldn’t be. He hadn’t been able to eat anything since he woke up and fought off the hangover thanks to the McDonald Family recipe for Gator-aid.

“Your teeth aren’t green either. Excellent,” she noted.

“Yeah, despite Andy’s best fuckin’ efforts.” They shared a laugh. “Ready as I can be.”

Sno stepped outside the door, made certain her sword was clear and clean and saluted the Chief of the Watch with it before returning it to her scabbard. Across the way, one of La’ming’s co-stars -unrecognisable in a crisp black suit- exited the opposite chamber and gave the signal.

Buglers played a fanfare. The door opened. Avi barely remembered the formalities because -oh sweet gods- Johann was resplendent in full Bard’s Motley. Deep lapis. Stark vermillion. Vibrant saffron.

The hose. The long, scalloped sleeves. The slashed pantaloons. The fucking codpiece. And the brocade. My gods, he looks magnificent.

Johann’s magnificent curls were trained into ringlets behind his lovely pointed ears, and sailing on top like a ship in the storm was a feathered cap with a peacock’s eye in amongst all the other finery.

Avi didn’t remember what pace he set but witness statements after the fact stated unanimously that both he and Johann took off running to collide in a hug and kiss combo where they both took turns dipping each other. Much to the enthusiastic applause, cheers, and hoots of the audience.

The celebrant officiating had to remind them both to “save some of that for later.”

He took off his gloved and tucked them beside the sword. Staring at Johann and holding his hands as the celebrant went through all of the usual palaver.

He remembered sounding soppily goopy when he said, “I do,” and loving hearing it in Johann’s voice when he said the same.

Tears might have been shed. Sno would never admit to it in her lifetime.

While they were sharing the official kiss, the twins had a competition to see how many flower petals they could get in the new couples’ hair. They were extremely lucky that they were small and cute and could get away with those kinds of shenanigans.

They both had indelible smiles on their faces for the rest of the day.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 11]

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Sno was going to be Avi’s Second in his wedding to Johann. It was a choice that was beyond automatic. It was almost instinctual. They’d been best friends since the Academy. Of fucking course she was going to be the next best thing to the Best Man. It also, kind’a-sort’a, solved the problem of what they were going to wear to the ceremony.

It also presented a heavy problem.

As Avi’s Second, it was Sno’s duty to run the Stag Night. The Bachelor Party. The last hurrah before a life of domestic bliss. Him, her, and the boys on a pretty standard evening of drunken revelry, pranks, and possibly a stripper. Sno knew about the theory, but…

That was pretty much all she knew.

She was his partner. He loved her like a sister. But gods damn it, Sno had all the social capability of a house brick.

“Hey, pard’. I can get my mother to jump out of a cake.”

Case in point. “What?”

“Family discount. Mom jumps out of a cake, does a few dirty dances, everyone has fun and we have like, a hundred spare for more booze.” She looked up from the clipboard. “It’s win-win.”

She was genuine. Sweet Fantasy Jesus, she was genuine. “It’s. Your. Mother.”

“Yes?”

“That’s fifteen levels of inappropriate.”

“Weird. ‘Cause twenty of the guys have her pinups in their lockers, and–”

Avi put his fingers in his ears and started humming. He only stopped when she stopped talking.

“It’s cool,” said Sno. “I’ve known she’s been doing this for years and she has like three ready-to-steal-’em babysitters for the twins and–”

“Your mother had twins?” Avi panicked. “You have baby sibs?”

“She found ‘em by a dumpster and is in the middle of upcycling them. Chill.”

“Wait. Stop. Someone abandoned twins by a dumpster…”

“No, they were kind’a living there themselves. You remember the Taaco case out by Tre Llew-Ddion?”

“Those twins?” Oh, this was not good. Orphaned at three, shuffled between assorted asshole family members and shitty foster homes for a year. Runaways who dropped off the map at five. A chain of suspicious fires, horrible accommodations, peculiar deaths, and murders most foul. And now they resurfaced in the illegal care of an internet stripper who was also his partner’s mother. “This couldn’t get any worse if the kids were boosting cars, Sno.”

“Believe it or not, mom’s cleaned up her act since she had me in her seventies. She’s… she’s actually better care and providing more of a stable environment than anywhere official. I’ve checked.”

“Your mother. Who played Busty Juggs in Tug Rats.”

“Yeah?”

“A better care provider.”

“She doesn’t do any hinky stuff when the kids are home. Gods. She’s a train wreck, not a monster.” Sno started ticking off the checklist on her fingers. “The apartment’s clean. Her studio’s always locked, the kids have proper food, good clothes, and they’re going to school. She makes sure they have good babysitters when she’s livestreaming. They’re even seeing some doctors about the malnutrition and parasites they picked up both on the street and via official channels. She’s… she’s actually being a halfway decent foster parent.”

Avi forced the conversation back on track. “And you want her to jump out of a cake for my Stag party.”

“The kids need books. They’re voracious readers.”

*

Of course a couple of the guys dressed up in SWAT gear to haul him away from his apartment. That was pretty much SOP for a City Watch Stag Nite. Instead of the come-along wagon, there was a party bus and Sno had stocked it with Redcheek cider. Avi’s favourite booze, besides the microbrews he made himself.

The party music was fairly typical. Nothing overtly offensive even though little of it was his particular jam. He could dance to it - more and more as he imbibed - and have a modicum of fun.

Then they arrived at the bar that was the actual party venue. A bar that had a stage with poles on it and a suspiciously huge cake.

She didn’t, Avi begged the universe. Please, gods, tell me she did not…

“Oh no,” said Sno with blatantly fake sincerity. “They delivered the wedding cake early and to the wrong address…”

Just then, half a dozen nuns entered the bar.

“Whoah, whoah, hey. This is a private party, ladies. Sisters.”

“Oh we won’t be here long,” singsonged the lead nun. “We’re gathering funds for orphaned and abandoned children. Just a five minute song and dance and we’ll be on our way.”

Waitasecond… since when do nuns wear heels? Avi had just enough time to ponder that before some heavy Eighties synth started pounding out of some small but powerful speakers. Bananarama’s Venus started pounding and a well-endowed figure burst forth from the cake.

Sno’s mom did not jump out of the cake. The stripper in the cake was none other than Hornee D'Lite, a Tiefling co-star in Tug Rats and regular feature in the local brand of direct-to-disk porno.

No. Sno’s mom was the lead nun. She had managed to gather together the entire fucking cast of Tug Rats for a one-night-only live performance.

This could not have got more mortifying if Sno had been trying. That was the regrettable part. Sno had honestly been trying to make this a night to remember.

Well… she wasn’t wrong…

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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