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kumkaniudaku · 5 months ago

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At Last: Part Two

Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Richmond make their union official.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: None

Part One

Under two Spanish moss trees, the two that towered highest above the rest like gods watching over their creations, Patrice and Terrence were due to share vows and declarations of love with a small crowd of family looking on as witnesses in less than twelve hours.

Her mother referred to the quick turnaround between engagement and nuptials as a “small miracle” as she and her elder sister meticulously planned details that even Patrice had overlooked in the haze of the evening.

Truthfully, after all the fuzzy feelings and congratulatory bubbly had worn off, she was left with a gaping pit of confusion deep within her belly. Terry had promised one year to prepare for a life together. That amounted to 365 days to learn, grow, and get ready for eternity. A calendar year to decide if the eagerness of fresh love could bloom into something everlasting. Three hours ago, she didn’t need any more convincing. Now, having 365 days cut nearly in half with a wedding occurring on the other side of the sunrise had suddenly become suffocating.

They hadn’t taken a traditional road, one paved with tangible milestones on the journey to name changes and legal titles. There was no high school sweethearts storyline to follow. They hadn’t awkwardly fumbled over kisses after a first date or met each other’s parents at a Sunday evening dinner. Terry never officially asked to be her boyfriend and she never really treated him as a man to date on the way to some serendipitous revelation that he was, indeed, the one. In her mind, they’d always existed as lovers, time moving in a flat circle back to him as the only man at the altar when she envisioned jumping the broom with a new last name.

But, even with all roads leading back to Terrence James Richmond, the cotton sheets beneath her tired body provided no refuge. She was restless in the dead of night, head pounding with uncertainty and throat raw with questions. She kicked at the thick duvet for some relief from the stifling heat in the bedroom of the tiny guest cottage she and Imani were forced to share for the night.

Because, even if she and Terry didn’t adhere to tradition, the women of her family held strong.

Next to her, Imani grumbled into her pillow before flipping the bedside lamp on with a huff.

“Damn, Petey, what now? You must wanna look like Frankenstein at the altar tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t get comfortable.”

“What I gotta do? My arms ain’t big as his but I can be the big spoon. Turn over.”

Imani jokingly cuddled up to Patrice, pretending to be Terry as she spoke to her in a dramatically deep voice. “I love you, girl. You the only woman in the world, girl. Kiss me a hundred times so I don’t melt away, girl!”

Patrice couldn’t hold back her laughter at her cousin’s silly imitation of a man she’d only just met in person but managed to get his mannerisms down to a science. She was good like that. Always able to break the ice and calm Patrice with a joke, even through troublesome storms.

Turning in Imani’s arms, Patrice faced her cousin to feel less alone in the world. Imani adjusted her bonnet and looked back with a faint smile.

“Tell me what’s wrong. You nervous?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Anxious?”

“Not that one either.”

“Worried.”

Patrice nodded and chewed her bottom lip before answering. “That’s the one.”

“Spill. You already got me awake. Might as well make it interesting.”

“I wish I could but, I don’t know what exactly I’m worried about,” she started, shifting to her back to search for answers on the vaulted ceiling. She found nothing. “You think this is all moving too fast? It’s only been a few months. We said we’d wait a year at least.”

“A year? Three months? Who’s countin’. Those rules are made up.”

“Yeah, but what about the courting? The whirlwind romance? Being held close while you dance in an empty jazz club tasting champagne on his lips while Etta James plays in the background? What about all that?”

Imani watched her cousin jump from the bed, waltzing in circles with her head thrown back, treating the empty space between the bedframe and dresser like a palace ballroom. An amused smile tugged at her lips as she sat up to get a better view.

“Girl,” she exclaimed, laughing and shaking her head to Patrice’s dismay. “None of that shit is real! You watched the Brandy Cinderella one too many times during the pandemic.”

“Only four times. Five. Six if you count the time we watched it on FaceTime.”

“That’s why it’s rotting your brain now. How many times you been in love?”

“Once,” Patrice answered, her mind drifting to Terry and what he might be doing all alone in that room upstairs.

“It’s been three times for me. And guess what?” she questioned, not expecting an answer. “None of them had a formula. Love is illogical, girl. There are no steps or rules or movie scripts to guide you through this shit! It’s about the willingness to give yourself over to something incomprehensible in hopes that you found your person for as long as you can hold on to them.”

Imani’s rant floated around the room until it began to burrow itself deep into Patrice’s ears in hopes of reaching her brain. She stood there, taking every word in, eyes intently focused on her wise older cousin, knowing she was right yet having a hard time turning that insight into something she could fathom for herself.

She’d always had a plan that she followed to the letter. She thrived in logical next steps and absolutes. The black and white kept her organized. Routine was her center. But love with Terry? That was different. That was whimsical. That was girlish pining and a botched kiss when they pretended to be a couple for one night during senior prom. It was time away wondering what their bond had become amid infrequent communication and eventual radio silence. Their love was reuniting as adults and running so fast into dizzying passion that she hadn’t time to wrap her mind around what had happened over the last seven months. Their love was intense and scary, beautifully abstract with no rhyme or reason. Nonsensical even. But it worked.

Scooting to the edge of the bed and standing to her feet, Imani mimicked a chivalrous prince, pulling Patrice into a silly little waltz around the room. “Create your own fairytale, P. Everything doesn’t have to make sense.”

“You think he misses me?” Patrice asked, her voice so tiny and meek that it almost surprised Imani. “Think he’s thinking about me like I’m thinking about him right now?”

“Only one way to find out.”

A mischievous smile spread across Imani’s face as she dashed for her phone. Patrice chased after her, calling for her to stop what she was doing at such a late hour.

Ordinarily, Terry would be asleep. He was never one to stay up too far beyond the early hours of the night, often dragging Patrice away from a good book to force her to sleep beside him.

Peaceful slumber, however, had been elusive all night. The moon was too bright. The room? Too hot. He could complain about the bed being a hair too soft or the floorboards creaking too loud whenever someone would sneak down the hallway for a late snack, but all of those would be a deflection from the true issue - he missed Patrice.

Just as his longing was reaching a tipping point, his phone buzzed against the solid oak nightstand. He had half a mind to ignore the sound. It was likely his mother confirming details yet again or one of his twin sisters finally responding to the engagement video, he thought to himself as he lay on his back staring at the constant revolution of the ceiling fan.

Then another buzz came accompanied by several more to let him know this was a phone call and only people with emergencies call at that hour.

He answered without looking at the screen to verify the caller.

“Hello?” He answered, slightly annoyed by the interruption.

“Terry put some clothes on and come to the cottage. We got an emergency.”

“A what?”

“Boy, just come on! Skip the third step from the bottom and go out of the side door by the kitchen.”

Terry wished that sneaking around his fiancée’s family home was among the silliest things he’d done in the middle of the night for a woman.

He carefully slipped into a hoodie and sneakers before tiptoeing his way down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out of that side door like Imani instructed. The moonlight provided the only guidance down the cobbled pathway leading to a tiny shack at the edge of the property with a little light flipped on in the bedroom.

Imani watched through the peephole with Patrice hot on her heels, peering over her shoulder as if she could see too.

Moanie shrugged her away with a harsh whisper. “Girl, get off my ass. He’s coming!”

Patrice backed away with her hands up in surrender. The wait for his eventual appearance felt like forever. She fiddled with the hem of her nightgown, wondering if he would care that this was all a half-baked scheme to circumnavigate their forced separation.

Terry ambled up the dirt path with his normal scowl and fists pushed into his pockets to shield his hands from the wind chill. Imani timed his arrival perfectly, swinging the door open before he created a disturbance by knocking.

“Everything good?” He asked, one eyebrow hiked high as Imani pulled him into the cottage by his arm.

She stepped back and gestured toward Patrice who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“I just wanna sleep,” she sighed. “Take her, go in that room, and do whatever y’all do until the morning. Then you gotta dip because I’m not getting in trouble for y’all. My mama will still hit me.”

Terry’s eyes drifted from Imani to Patrice, catching how she looked nervous under his gaze. He smiled and extended his hand for her to take.

“C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

His voice, honied and soothing to her soul, gave Patrice her first rush of comfort in what felt like forever. She placed her palm in his and trailed behind him as he led the way.

Imani called behind them. “Please, don’t have sex on the bed. I gotta sleep here until Tuesday and I don’t really need that image in my head.”

“Can’t make any promises but, thank you. I’ll make sure you get the bouquet.”

“Hard pass. Give it to Moon’s desperate ass. I like to let my fairytales unfold organically.”

She winked at her cousin just before Terry could close the bedroom door to block them from the outside world.

Wrapped in the midnight hour, they’d finally found peace.

Patrice watched from the bed as Terry stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his hoodie to expose bare skin to the night air. He slowly crawled in beside her, brushing his fingers against her midsection to guide her against the mattress the way he liked. He pulled her close to his chest to rest his nose in the crook of her neck for a deep inhale of her unique scent. She sighed and pressed even closer, at ease once eyelashes painted butterfly kisses where his warm breath fanned against her skin.

“How’d we get like this,” he laughed once they were settled. “Can’t even fall asleep without each other.”

“I still think you put a spell on me in that bathroom. I loved sleeping alone before then.”

“Had to pull out all the stops for you, baby.”

“I’m just that fine, huh?”

He chuckled and closed his eyes, already feeling slumber's clutches coming for him in the darkness. His grip around her waist tightened. She trailed her fingers up and down his forearm with her focus on the soft rustle of the linen curtains against the window. Her mind quieted. The room fell silent save for steady, deep breathing and the crickets making music outside.

“You wanna know something?”

Terry blinked himself awake to answer. “What?”

“They call me Petey because I had a big crush on Tobey Maguire as Spider-Man one summer,” Patrice admitted in the darkness. “I figure if you’re gonna be my husband by this time tomorrow, you should know.”

No answer. Only the smack of his lips pulling away from the skin behind her ear in another kiss. He knew not to interrupt her fleeting moment of vulnerability with the silly joke on the tip of his tongue. So, he joined her confessional.

“I used to think Roxanne from A Goofy Movie was fine.”

“The animated dog?”

Terry scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know being attracted to a human spider was better.”

Their shared laughter reverberated off the walls, uncorking the bottled-up pressure to be present as perfect beings to the world. Terry felt Patrice’s ribcage expand and contract in his embrace as she took a deep breath to release pent-up nerves, silently thanking God that he was the one allowed to mold himself into the curves and contours of her body every night.

“I want to know more about you.” she requested, sounding like a child asking for a bedtime story. “Tell me something else.”

So he did. With no hesitation, he told her secrets that seemed so daunting to share until she was the one listening. Anxieties about the future fell from his lips freely, receiving no judgment on the other side. He told her about his fear of clowns and felt his first dose of validation when she agreed that expressionless mimes shouldn’t be around children. The backstory of the small scar on his upper lip was followed by a giggly recollection of the time she put her brother in the dryer to see how long he could spin without getting sick which made him laugh until his abdomen ached. Together they shared uncomfortable memories that introduced intense insecurities, weird theories about the existence of intergalactic forms, and wondered if LeBron James was secretly an android. An elementary game of 21 Questions created a crash course in the entire history of one another.

They lay there together in a pitch-black room drunk off the jagged, imperfect pieces of each other until their eyes burned with exhaustion and sleep was no longer an option.

The last thing Terry whispered into Patrice’s ear was a promise to never stop learning about her, to never stop being curious about her likes, dislikes, hopes, and dreams as long as they both lived. She could barely mumble out a worthwhile response but hoped that her gentle hum served as an oath to do the same.

By morning, he was gone. Out into the breeze by first light, leaving only his scent on Imani’s pillow and the fleeting memory of his fingers making a home between Patrice’s legs with whispered praise on his lips as evidence that his presence wasn’t an apparition in the witching hour. Patrice couldn’t resist burying her face into the sheets, squealing and kicking her feet beneath the duvet in elation.

She was getting married.

“Y’all are so cute,” Imani swooned, leaning against the bedroom doorframe as she watched her cousin hold a pillow close to her chest like an actress in a romantic drama. “We gotta get you ready, sis! It’s your wedding day!”

People whisked around all morning like busy worker bees, each one darting off to a new place around the estate to fulfill a purpose. Some balanced stacks of white chairs under their arms like magicians to turn a portion of the backyard into a wedding venue. Others hustled through the kitchen’s service door with mounds of ingredients for what could only described as a feast fit for royalty. Women giggled on their way out of the backdoor to meet Patrice and her small entourage to prepare her for a day she’d planned as a girl, but never saw coming together in a dizzying whirlwind such as this.

In the cottage, women laughed and sipped tea in porcelain cups to go with their fancy hors d'oeuvres on fancier china. The soothing purr from an antique sewing machine placed careful stitches in a beautifully plain satin gown gifted by Imani and Rosalyn to ensure that the garment was made to Patrice’s exact proportions. She was a princess for the day, the world bending to her every whim.

Terry wasn’t so lucky. The bedroom was still too hot and growing even hotter with each unwanted guest moving in and out with more questions than he thought he needed to answer. He wanted a moment to write out heartfelt vows with pen and paper but found himself so frustrated with the whole production that he slammed his writing utensil against the writing desk in the corner and cursed at the wall.

Another visitor tsk’d behind him. “Boy, you better not let Mama hear you talkin’ like that.”

”She’d pull that ear clean off the side of your head!”

Equally raspy voices made Terry sigh with relief before he stood to his feet. As two almost identical copies of their mother, Zorah and Zanah were Terry’s first loves. He remembered the day they entered into the world. So precious and honey brown with striking chocolate eyes that could make him bend to their will without a word. He watched them mature through the world like their hired security, never letting harm come to a single hair on their head. He wiped tears, kissed scrapes, and played with dolls like a third parent. When they went their separate ways to grow into adults with individual hopes and dreams, he cried in secret like he’d been the one to birth them.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged his baby sisters but he knew he’d never needed their embrace quite like he needed it in that moment. They hugged him back, two sets of arms wrapping him up in a quiet group hug until he’d had his fill.

“How is this supposed to be the happiest day of your life and you’re in here cussin’ and breathing all heavy,” Zorah, the oldest of the pair, asked as she cleared her brother’s face of invisible debris.

She’d always acted as his surrogate mother despite being six years his junior. The everpresent pillar of stability, she left home as soon as she could to explore the other side of the country at UCLA in hopes of studying the ins and outs of music performance. Tall and athletic with long dark locs, her voice became her calling card, but her big brother knew her as a young lady that was once too afraid to sing in the children’s choir at church.

“You know how Terry is. He think he Obama. All serious for no reason sometimes.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re right,” she conceded. “You never gon’ be fine as Obama.”

Zanah was the hell raiser. Loud and full of energy with an afro big enough to block the sun, she lived to tease her older brother. A zest for bold flavors that could bring even the worst enemies together for a good meal sent her in search of the best culinary school their parents could afford. If you could dream it, she could make it appear in the kitchen with little effort. Terry admired her for her gift, but couldn’t stand her poking and prodding at his expense.

He kissed his teeth and broke free from their short-lived period of civility. “Treece and the girls are out back. She’ll be happy to see y’all. Zo, get the rings from Daddy as soon as you can. You know how he gets.”

The twins rolled their eyes at each other while watching Terry pout on his way back to the writing desk for another crack at his speech. Zorah was the first to move with Zanah bringing up the rear.

She stood over his shoulder to take stock of what he’d managed to write in his time alone. Half sentences and scribbled words scratched through several times over littered the page as if a madman had gotten ahold of his journal. Something about how much he cherished her but with far too much Shakespearean language to be sincere made Zanah giggle behind him.

She sat on the edge of the desk, pretending to judge his work. “Are you writing your vows or the sequel to Romeo and Juliette?”

“Zanah, please. Pick with me after all of this is done. I can’t deal with the stress right now.”

An invisible weight seemed to push Terry into a defeated hunch, forcing his head into his hands as he angrily rubbed at his eyes. His stress tick was back and more ferocious than ever. Zorah flanked his other side and gave her twin a look of concern before looking back at him.

“Wanna pretend we’re Patrice to practice?”

He sighed. “No, not really.”

“Don’t be like that. We won’t tell and you gotta get a move on these vows. It’s a win-win.”

Terry sat back in his chair to mull over their proposition. A practice run couldn’t hurt. At worst, he’d rid himself of the useless mass of words clogging his brain.

“Fuck,” he conceded, pushing back from the desk with a loud scrape across the wooden floor. “Look, be nice. If I say something stupid or too mushy just let me finish, alright?”

“It wouldn’t be nothing we ain’t heard you writing poems about before,” Zanah laughed along with Zorah.

Terry showed her both of his middle fingers with a smirk as he walked to the center of the room. His days as an amateur poet were a well-kept secret that only his family was forced to witness. One day, when he and Patrice were old and grey, he’d reveal a shoebox full of terrible musings in her honor.

Taking a needed inhale through his nose and long exhale through his mouth, Terry prepared to ramble through his feelings.

“When I try to imagine my life without you, my mind goes blank. It’s kinda like when you get an error message on a computer or something. No images, no search results, nothing. Empty.” Terry began to pace, finding inspiration in the back-and-forth motion.

Zorah pressed for more. “Why?”

“I’m not supposed to imagine life without you, Patrice. I don’t want to experience another birthday or Christmas, Earth Day, Juneteenth, shit anything if you’re not there. I prayed for you.” Terry didn’t anticipate getting choked up until the sensation brought with it a lump in his throat. All of the instances he’s asked God for guidance in matters of the heart came rushing back to his remembrance with only one answer at every turn. “Trying to imagine an existence without you feels like I’m telling God that bringing you back to me wasn’t enough.”

His eyes flashed up to his sisters, finding them in the throws of emotion right along with him.

“Keeping going. Bring it home,” Zanah encouraged. “Give her the fireworks, loverboy!”

Terry laughed through misty vision. “I’m excited to spend the rest of our days together. Tonight, I’m promising you a lifetime of my protection, my devotion, and my desire to show up every single day to make our time together worth the wait. Thank you for choosing me, baby. Let me work on making sure you never regret that decision.”

A slow clap took over the room, first from two sets of hands that Terry expected, making his shoulder slump from relief.

“Shit, now I gotta remember all that.”

“Don’t worry, we recorded,” Zorah assured.

But there was still applause. He whipped his head around to investigate the extra spectators and found his parents beaming from the room’s threshold.

Diedra spoke up first as she made a beeline for her son. “Oh my God, oh my God! This is really happening. My baby is about to be somebody’s husband.” She claimed his face with her hands, distributing doting kisses on both of his cheeks. “Beautiful vows. Remind me of your father’s.”

“Not nearly as eloquent,” Marvin laughed, joining the conversation. “Matter of fact, I don’t think I got past the to have and to hold portion without stuttering. The pastor had to move us along because I was so tongue-tied.”

“Yeah, but the feeling is the same. Your heart’s in the right place.”

“Not right now,” Terry laughed before kissing her forehead. “My heart is in my ass, Mama. Stomach too.”

The Richmond family laughed harmonious laughs, providing the first bit of ease Terry had felt all morning.

Marvin reached out to grab his boy’s shoulder for a small squeeze. In all his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined a better man than Terrence had become. All the rearing, the man-to-man talks, the tough love, and every stern redirection had become another foundational brick in not only a worthwhile man but a spectacular human.

He looked around the room at his girls and wife, trying to hide the overwhelming rush of emotion tightening his chest. “Can you ladies give us a moment?”

Zanah released a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, here we go. They about to cry a river in here. Come on, y’all. Patrice says they’re opening another bottle of champagne and you know I don’t like to miss hearing a cork pop.”

“You honestly need to talk to somebody about that.”

“We talk all the time, Zo!”

Time winding down turned advice into a hot commodity, transcending social groups as the sunset drew closer. Everyone had an opinion, an unsolicited tidbit on how to navigate the peaks and valleys of marriage. A hodgepodge of dos and don’ts thrown out like casual information whether Patrice wanted it or not.

Don’t go to bed angry. Have sex every night. Make sure there’s a separate account for personal emergencies. Keep the kids out of your bed. Some were helpful, others mostly nothing but projections and special circumstances veiled as some sage secret that Patrice and Terry should offer special thanks for receiving.

Nerves were turning into embers of annoyance. By late afternoon, they’d both requested for rooms to be emptied and questions to cease. They’d had enough. No more information. No more guidance. Anything left to learn was up to the test of time, not a bunch of people who meant well, but would ultimately return to their own lives with no say so in what went on between the newlyweds.

Reprieve came when the white chairs were in perfect rows on either side of a flower-lined aisle, ties were neatly draped underneath starched button-up collars, and dresses were pressed to perfection. The sun had begun to dive behind the clouds, leaving the sky full of pink and orange hues. A half-moon hung high in the sky as if it were invited to witness a show made especially for the cosmos. Guests took their seats without care given to which side belonged to the groom or bride. They were all family now. A beautiful mix of lineages and temperaments bonded for as long as Patrice and Terry saw fit.

At the altar, Sybil stood under two Spanish moss trees towering high above the rest, her gray hair pulled up into an ornate headwrap that matched her dress. She smiled up at both trees as if saying hello to living, breathing beings before asking stragglers to take their seats.

From the kitchen’s sliding door, Terry bounced on his toes, waiting on his cue to step into the early autumn chill. A tailored suit hugged him close, finally fulfilling its duty to carry him down a path lined with his love's favorite flowers to forever bond himself to the woman handpicked for his unwavering fidelity.

This was the moment. Fate had willed it so. He wouldn’t turn back for any reason. Destiny had come knocking and he welcomed her in with open arms.

Dreamy chords from a baby grand piano served as the soundtrack to his final walk as a single man. Measured steps carried him forward, his chest puffed with pride and his shoulders rolled back in the type of relaxed confidence only afforded to people who had no doubt that they were on the exact path they’d been ordained to traverse.

Candles and soft, white light from paper lanterns hanging nearby provided romantic theatrics to accompany his every step. Voices whispered, some calling his name, others leaving comments as he passed. In his periphery, he caught a glimpse of his family. DeeDee’s eyes welled with happy tears as Marvin rubbed her back for comfort. His sisters, both beside themselves with excitement, flashed Terry a look at the wedding bands as a final check-in on their whereabouts.

At the altar, Junior waited for his arrival as his best man. Terry had requested his presence during a surprisingly heartfelt conversation where Junior had all but lifted his brother-in-law off of his feet to show his appreciation.

“I love my sister, man.” He repeated over and over under the spell of brunch liquor. “I’m happy it’s you, T. I’m happy it’s you for my sister, man.”

Junior tapped his right hand over his chest and nodded at Terry, jumping right back into the masculine display of affection that had escaped him when no one else was around.

Patrice watched it all unfold as she carefully made her way into the kitchen at the tail end of a secret mission to hide her from her husband. Imani trailed her with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas in one hand and the train of her dress in the other. If not for her heels clacking against the black and white tile on the floor, Patrice was sure that her cousin could hear her heart thudding against her sternum.

“Alright, girl, this is where I leave you,” Imani spoke, a small smile forming as she took another look at Patrice. She tucked a stray curl back into place and presented her with the flowers. “You look beautiful, P. Stunning. My friend is all grown up. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Imani. For everything. Let’s not allow too much time to pass before we see each other again, okay?”

“Of course. I’ll be back for Christmas. But, don’t focus on me. You gotta get down the aisle, Mrs. Richmond.”

Patrice sighed and grinned at the mention of her new last name. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it, baby! It’s time.”

A final hug connected the two before Imani was out of the door and comically announcing the bride’s arrival before taking her place as maid of honor.

She stood behind that glass door, beaming as all in the area stood in anticipation of her entrance.

You fix your makeup just so

Guess you don’t know that you’re beautiful

Try on every dress that you own

You were fine in my eyes a half hour ago

Terry had mentioned the song in passing once, commenting on how he heard it in a department store and found John Legend kind of corny. What he didn’t mention was that he was in the department store getting fitted for the very suit he wore as he watched Patrice walk toward him and how he took the song as a sign that he was doing exactly what God intended.

That cheesy song from a cheesier artist was the reason he was dabbing at the corners of his eyes with his knuckles to stop the incoming tears.

In a lovely satin dress with a high halter neck, Patrice was the center of attention. Imani had specifically chosen a white dress without any reverence for outdated tradition. If her girl was to be wed, she’d be in the appropriate color, no doubt. A split in the front was a personal gift to Terry, a peek at her oiled legs with each step immediately catching his attention.

Her bantu knots were unraveled, leaving behind shiny, bouncy curls that framed her face just right. Soft makeup enhanced ancestral facial features. Minimal jewelry kept the look tailored to her flare for the understated.

When she waved at Terry, he waved back with a smile so wide that it made his cheeks burn. In all of her glory, every perfect inch from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, was his to cherish.

And this evening, I won’t let the feeling die

I never wanna leave your side

Before the music could fade to make way for the ceremony, Terry had already found himself unable to hold back emotion. His fingertips were damp with tears as he assisted Patrice onto the low platform.

“Sorry,” he whispered while she pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to clean his face. “Think they got all this in the photos?”

“I hope so. Might get a couple wallet-sized prints to carry in my purse.”

Patrice chucked as she tucked the pale blue fabric behind her bouquet’s stem and smoothed Terry’s collar. He captured her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

Sybil cleared her throat. “We aren’t at that part yet, but I love the enthusiasm. Should we get to the good stuff?”

Patrice hoped the good stuff was captured in ultra HD on a camera somewhere. She couldn’t bring herself to care about the flowery words and intricate language. She tried her hardest to listen for her name to avoid embarrassing herself in front of everyone hoping to see something movie-like unfold in front of their eyes. But seeing the light etch beautiful reflections and shadows on Terry’s skin was all she could lend her focus to in the moment.

Luckily, she made it through her vows without stumbling, even managing a joke that garnered a communal chuckle.

“Honestly, we’re lucky this is happening now instead of at 18 like you said you wanted. I got to see Juicy J at homecoming one year and that wouldn’t have happened if I was chasing behind you in my 20s. You cute but not miss a Juicy J concert cute.”

She listened to Terry sniffle his way through heartfelt lines, occasionally wiping under his eyes to clear his vision. He gripped her hand tight and bathed her in a gaze so intense it sent a shiver down her spine.

What she was present for, however, was the grand finale.

“Do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” Sybil asked Terry though she was already sure of his answer.

His top lip almost disappeared from being stretched so wide in his smile. “I do.”

Sure as he knew his first name, Terry affirmed his decision with two words and all of his teeth on display. Sybil looked to Patrice, finally seeing her niece as a woman and not the little girl that kept her on her toes every summer.

She took a deep breath and then laughed. “Lord, now I’m crying!” The family laughed, some using the moment to wipe away their own tears. “Okay, I’m back. Do you take this man to be your husband -”

“Yes! I do! I mean you can finish if you need to, but that’s my answer. One billion times, yes.”

There was no need. Under the twinkle of ancestors acting as stars and God showing his splendor in the marvelous brightness of the moon, man and woman became one. Mr. and Mrs. Richmond, free to jump hand in hand over a small, decorated broom to honor the folks that had come before them.

Well wishes came in abundance. Gifts big, small, and monetary spilled from a small table onto the rug beneath. Toasts became the preferred way to start a conversation. Buttons and ties had come undone from tight collars. High heels swapped for sensible shoes. Couples already squarely in the mature stages of partnership rushed to slow dance in the center of the communal area between tables. Pictures memorialized a wondrous occasion. They’d sign official paperwork another day. Tonight was for celebration.

While the party raged on, Patrice and Terry sat in the center of the table wrapped up in one another. His chin rested in the palm of her hand as he watched her lips move in time with the lyrics to a line dance song her parents led on the makeshift dancefloor. Her fingernails gently scratched at his jaw, an absentminded habit she’d picked up recently. He nudged her temple with his forehead like a cat begging for affection.

“Hmm,” she hummed, not looking in his direction. He repeated his actions to receive the attention he craved. She finally looked over and giggled. “What, baby?”

“Nothing. Just wanted you to look at me.”

Patrice pressed her nose to Terry’s before placing a soft kiss on his full bottom lip. “Let’s get away from here for a second. Follow me.”

Without question, Terry allowed Patrice to tug him along, past the throngs of dancing guests, away from music blasting out of jumbo speakers, down a shallow hill, and to a small lake shimmering in the night.

He held her steady when she stopped short to remove her heels, saying something about needing to feel the grass between her toes. She jogged the rest of the way to the lake with Terry holding her shoes and taking long strides to catch up.

She carefully lifted her dress before stepping into the water, only allowing it to cover the sides of her feet as she tilted her chin to the sky. Terry watched her with a placid grin and low eyelids.

“You having fun,” he asked as he placed her belongings on a tree stump and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Mhm. You?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

He watched her for a few seconds more, admiring the way she seemed to salute every piece of nature in the vicinity.

“You know, we didn’t get a first dance.”

Patrice stopped creating ripples in the water with her toes and looked over at Terry. “Oh shit, we didn’t, huh? Wanna go back and do that? I don’t even have a song picked out. Slipped my mind, I guess.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” he answered, still smiling. “We can dance right here.”

He presented his hand for her grab, pulling her from the lake with care until she was up against his chest. They swayed to nothing for a second while Terry fiddled with his phone to find something worthy of their time. Patrice closed her eyes to listen to the breeze, more content with the wind as a soundtrack than she expected.

Soon, Etta James came rolling through his phone’s speakers.

Terry dropped one hand just above Patrice’s backside, the other wrapping around her back to lead them in a slow dance. A waltz of sorts in the blue moonlight.

Her hands snaked up to the top of his head and pulled him as close as he could be, his nose so tight against her neck she could feel the slight suction and release from every breath.

They stayed there, moving side to side under Etta James’s sweet song of found love until all distractions faded and left them in the fullness of each other.

Patrice angled her head upwards as Terry kissed along her collarbone. Then her ear. Her cheek, her nose, and, finally, her lips.

As he said I love you without words, Patrice tried to place the sweet taste of citrus and apple on his tongue. Was it dessert? Maybe her lip gloss or the fancy compote from their dinner plate?

No, none of those.

She closed her eyes tighter to taste more. There it was. The ghost of her fantasy. The secret marker of her one true love.

Champagne.

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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uzumaki-rebellion · 1 month ago

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A little snippet of "A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues" Part 15

A.N.: I'll have this finished after I complete one more fic for another fandom by the end of this month if not sooner!

Celeste left the house early the day after bringing Gadreel home with her.

Curiosity got the better of her, so she pulled out her bicycle from the sewing room. Gadreel sat dormant in his statue-state in the far corner where she made space for him. She offered him a pile of blankets to make a pallet on the floor, but he only squatted on his haunches and she watched his skin harden into stone at the first light of dawn.

He looked just as terrifying as a hunk of rock as he did as a living breathing being. She tapped his shoulder to test the hardness of his transformation. A small bud looking like the tip of a twig sprouted from his wing-less shoulder. She shuddered to think she had a gargoyle as a roommate.

Heat rested around the crown of her locs and swept around her in lazy hot drafts as she rode to the church. She had to see for herself what became of the remains of Father Mbenga.

She dropped her foot on the sidewalk, halting her bike.

The church looked normal.

The roof was covered in a dark blue tarp with roofing materials stacked neatly. She stared at the doors, tempted to walk over and open them. No…it was better to pretend she knew nothing. There were no police, no caution tape to keep spectators away…nothing. Perhaps Micah’s contacts cleaned up any evidence of vampires and gargoyle’s scuffling.

She spent the day pedaling around Jackson Square watching buskers, fortune tellers, jugglers, and random street performers entertain tourists. Celeste tried to mentally align her life with the new world she had to function in once more. She was going to be a mother. In order to save her child she had to kill Terry. An eight foot gargoyle told her a fantastical creation story that she believed. Regular humans enjoyed their day all around her not knowing that horrors surrounded them the moment the sun went down.

But she was safe.

She touched her stomach.

The baby kept her safe. Gadreel kept her safe, even with its injuries.

It? They?

The gargoyle technically wasn’t a male without gendered body parts that humans were used to. Calling him a him felt okay because it had a deep voice associated with masculinity to her ears.

“Alright Strawberry, your mother has to figure shit out,” she murmured.

A fifty-ish looking Black woman with fluffy, newly-dyed auburn hair shuffled a deck of tarot cards in front of a portable table and empty folding chair. A small whiteboard with red marking listed her prices and types of readings. What stood out to her was a Vodou veve drawn with orange chalk decorating the cement next to the table. It looked like two sideways crosses with upside down hearts and squiggly lines. Celeste recognized the same marking from the window of a little storefront on Rampart that sold oils, candles, and charms.

“You look like you need a quick reading, young lady,” the woman said.

“I need more than a reading.”

“A consultation then?”

“I need to find someone.”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

The woman spread the five-inch high blue cards out in a half circle on her covered table.

“Not here, though. Can I make an appointment for later?” Celeste asked.

“Sure.”

The woman handed her a gold card.

Madame Patrice Varte.

“Thank you,” Celeste said.

She pushed her bike away and pocketed the card.

Tag List:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

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@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

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#A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues #vampire!terry richmond #terry richmond #rebel ridge #terry richmond fanfiction #rebel ridge fanfiction #aaron pierre #aaron pierre fanfiction #aaron pierre smut #terry richmond smut #uzumaki rebellion #black fanfiction

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sprintingowl · 1 month ago

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Changed Stars

More TTRPG reviews!

DieselShot sent me a copy of their big full-featured scifi TTRPG Changed Stars, and it was both polished and modern and a trip down memory lane to the mechanically robust heartbreakers of the 90s and early 00s.

I'll put the full review below, but if you like stuff like Farscape and Mass Effect and the Expanse, you should give this a look.

Changed Stars is a space opera TTRPG about a universe where humanity tried to colonize the galaxy and got quickly set to rights by the other reigning powers of space. Instead of simply backhanding humanity into their home gravity well, these powers took on humanity as a project---could they make us less like violent children and more like proper citizens of space?

The PDF is 306 pages, with small, dense text in a professional layout. This is an old school style full featured TTRPG, and it packs in information and art and mechanics. Everything is bookmarked and hyperlinked, and it feels relatively easy to navigate.

Writing-wise, both the ideas and execution are solid. The text feels compellingly told, and the geopolitical situations the book sets up feel chewy and interesting. Most of the conflict comes from humans falling back on old human atrocity-doing, and I think Changed Stars get a lot of mileage out of positioning us as the galaxy's work-in-progress disaster.

In terms of character creation, things are decently granular without being overcomplicated. There are four stats, twelve skills, quick and slow hp, and a decent spread of species to choose from. Classes are loose, and come with some attribute and skill bonuses, a couple feats, and a unique gimmick called an Edge Break where you can go all out in a class-specific way and then fall into a coma. To round things out there's a robust equipment section and a big chunky drones and vehicles chapter. Ships are quite detailed, and come with a wide range of things for crew to do in combat and while exploring, hitting a very gameable sweet spot in between "5e spelljammer" and "this game is now entirely about ships."

Mechanics-wise, Changed Stars uses a d6 pool. Sixes are hits, one hit is enough to succeed, additional hits can be used to "yes and" the success. Players have decent control over the dice with Edge, that same thing from the Edge Break I mentioned earlier. You can use it to nudge regular rolls too, taking smaller consequences in exchange for goosing the dice a little. Combat, survival, healing, and other tabletop staples are all at about the same level of complexity, but feel fully fleshed out. Violence feels dangerous, and its consequences feel life threatening, but you can absolutely go loud and have a hero moment without dying.

For GMs, there's a huge worldbuilding section plus general advice, safety tools, a bestiary, and a starter scenario. Nothing feels missing, but also I don't know that anything in here will fundamentally change the way you GM if you've been doing it for a while.

For visual readers, the art by Patrice Danielle Long is excellent! It's a mix of black and white and color, and it does a very necessary job of anchoring the descriptions in the text to something immediate and tangible. The xenofauana looks nice, and the playable species have a lot of charm to them.

I think the folks who might bounce off of this game are those who are looking for something mechanically simple. Changed Stars isn't complicated for the sake of being complicated, but I'd also say it's at about Shadowrun complexity level. A 4--6 player group that's been doing TTRPGs for a while should be able to tackle it with ease.

Overall, I'm glad games like this are still being made. A GM who clicks with the setting can spin a robust tale inside Changed Stars' universe, and a group who plays in it will get to make detailed characters, get into space hijinks, and more than likely shoot their way out.

#ttrpg #ttrpg homebrew #ttrpgs #ttrpg design #indie ttrpgs #rpg #indie ttrpg #tabletop #dnd #rpgs #changed stars #space opera

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hp-abandonshipfest · 1 year ago

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Abandon Ship [A HP Gen Fiction Fest]

⚓️ This fest was created to celebrate general fiction, also known as "gen" fiction in fandom.

⚓️ Gen fiction, for the purposes of this fest, refers to any work that does not centre around a romantic or sexual relationship between two or more characters. (e.g. casefics, character studies etc)

⚓️ You are free to include any kind of pairing you want in your work so long as it is not the sole or primary focus of your creation. We know that this definition of gen fic is somewhat open to interpretation, but as a rough guideline, we'd request that you only submit fics that can reasonably be tagged Gen and/or Gen+Pairing.

Important Dates

⚓️ January 10th: Opening For Prompts ⚓️ January 31st: Closing For Prompts ⚓️ February 1st: Claiming Opens ⚓️ May 1st: Claiming Closes ⚓️ May 30th: Submissions Due ⚓️ June 10th: Fic Reveals Begin

Important Links

⚓️ Abandon Ship Fest Rules + FAQ ⚓️ Abandon Ship Fest Prompting Form <- submit your prompts here! ⚓️ Abandon Ship Fest Prompt Gallery <- check out our prompts here! ⚓️ Abandon Ship Fest Claiming Form ⚓️ Abandon Ship Fest AO3 Collection

Your mods are: @nanneramma, @uncannycerulean, @sleepstxtic, and @patrice.

#abandonshipfest #harry potter fanfic #gen fiction

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sweetdreamfallx · 5 months ago

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Who remembers Night Terror AU?

Okay so looking at my old arts, I found art about Vince and Darren from this AU. I felt nostalgia. This AU was a great thing. I still remember when I was reading stories about it and was waiting for a new comic. So I drew something today.

Meet Patrice the Jester.

In my story, she would be like a DLC (side story) to main one. She is a human in jester costume. (More info below).

Story:

So she got sended away to her family from far away (which is uncle Michael and Faith). She is troubled adult in her 20's. She causes toubles to be seen by the others. Something like painting on walls or upside down trashcans. Michael don't really like to save her from her own doings, but he feels like it's his duty. One day, a spark of light went from Dreamscape world to real one (it was magic of creation). It landed on random face mask that was on ground. She saw it thinking it was cool. So she putted it on. Magic from the spark within the mask, gave her Dreamscaper symbol on arm. So one day she woke up in other world, scared and confused. Vince welcomed her in the team. She got her own costume and deck of cards. She didn't had any element tho so her cards were her main defence. Her ultimate was called "mimicry" which by booping someone with a power, she can mimic it for a limited time. She also got physical strength which gives her ability to do acrobatics (like in circus). She can go to Dreamscape world and normal one.

Endings:

True ending - she gave Boogyman a chance to change his ways. After it she got back to her real world to show others that she can change too.

Good ending - she gave Boogyman a chance to change his ways. After it she joined Dreamscapers for a full time.

Neutral ending - they defeated Boogyman and everything was good from then on.

Sad ending - she defeated Boogyman, but lost Vince (because he turned into phobia). After it she gave up being a hero and went back to her world. She couldn't bear the loss, because it prooved Boogyman right.

Bad ending - she got turned into phobia (Coulrophobia - fear of clown).

Worst ending - she blindly trusted Boogyman (because they both were being outshined by their own brothers), betrayed Vince and others and turned everything into Nightmarescape. All of this for an empty revange.

#five nights at freddy's #night terror #quick sketch #nostalgia

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carinavet · 6 months ago

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And while we're on the topic of Bioware being deeply uninterested in the religion they wrote/ throwing in lore and then never exploring its implications...

Chantry doctrine says that the Maker abandoned creation.

A populous that believes it's been abandoned by its Maker should look VASTLY different from a Catholic Church stand-in written by people who don't unstated Catholicism at all.

So they threw in the bit about "the Maker will come back when the Chant of Light is sung in all the corners of the world" to explain the missionary drive. Okay. Good so far. (Mostly. We're also ignoring that nobody knows if Thedas is the only continent in the world, or even what the western part of the continent looks like.)

But like... literally everyone who claims to speak for the Maker is a heretic. Including the Divine. The Maker doesn't see. The Maker doesn't care. He's GONE. Leliana, you weren't chosen. Cassandra, nobody is watching over you. Patrice... actually, fuck, you might be on to something just because the fate of the entire world is dependant on one-way conversion.

Okay, okay, I'm over simplifying: yeah, spreading the Chant of Light also implies living by it, and there's a lot in there about charity and kindness and crap. The whole reason the Maker left is because He was horrified about setting people on fire and stuff. But even so, that doctrine is going to bring out nihilism in more than a few people. Most people are NOT going to be praying consistently, because their own priests tell them that nobody is listening. People aren't going to be looking for guidance from an absentee god. It just... It SHOULD be an entirely different way of looking at religion and the world and I'm so disappointed that that just isn't a thing that's explored ever.

#dragon age #meta

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blueiscoool · 2 years ago

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Rare Ancient Stamps Found in Denmark

In the center of Falster, southeast of Denmark, a man with a metal detector has made an important discovery. The discovery is so important that it could help write a few chapters for Danish history or at least the local history of Falster.

While Lennart Larsen was out on a rainy day and searching for anything of historical value, he suddenly heard a faint beep in his equipment, and when he checked the ground, he discovered small, interesting objects, unlike anything he had seen before.

A faint beep has indeed revealed a special stamp in the ground – a so-called Patrice – that was used to make gold images, which are believed to be gifted to the gods.

The Museum Lolland-Falster has been informed. The only two-centimeter-long object in Falster’s soil may be a trace of a former royal power on Falster, the museum said.

“This indicates that we are standing in a place that has meant some trade and probably also had some form of cultic activity. And although it’s a bit wild to say, it could also indicate that it was once a center of power on Falster,” museum inspector and archaeologist Marie Brinch from the Lolland-Falster Museum said.

She emphasizes that the discovery was made in an area with names dating back to the Viking Age or even earlier and that the marshland was discovered in an area that had been sacrificed to the gods in the century preceding the stamp’s creation.

Archaeologists have before come across several signs of activity from the Iron Age and the Viking Age have been found, including an enormous shipyard and a large castle from the Viking Age at Falster. However, only a small number of discoveries have been made that can demonstrate where the island’s wealthy elite resided in the years prior to the beginning of the Viking Age. The new find may help to shed light on that.

Researchers have determined the tiny objects are stamps from the era just before the Viking Age. They were created between the years 500 and 700.

According to Margrethe Watt of the National Museum, who collects and researches ancient gold coins and stamps, these are extremely rare. There have only been 28 stamps discovered in the entire Nordic region, including the one from Falster, and it is a very unique stamp. South of the Baltic Sea, no stamps or gold coins have been discovered.

“The stamps are all very special. We only find them in the most important places of residence – those that we call the central places in the technical language. These are the places that we associate with the greatest magnates or kings. That’s the league we’re in here. And this stamp is at the same time very much for itself in its style,” she says.

“On the stamp from Falster, you can see a person in fine clothes, standing with their hands at a very special angle. The hands are down, and the palms are visible. It is something that we know in both Christian and pre-Christian cultures as either a sign of submission or a revelation. It is also a symbol that we see in many churches today, Watt explains.

Neither the god nor the king were shown as weak or flawed in any way. And you don’t see that on the stamp from Falster either. “This means that it is either a royal figure who submits to a god – or that it is a god who reveals himself to a human being,” she says.

“It is actually difficult to see if it is a man or a woman who is depicted. You would see that by the fact that there is a tuft of hair on the back of the piston. But it may well appear that there is, she says, and emphasizes that it requires further investigations to determine whether this is the case.

As there may be more finds in the ground at the site, Museum Lolland-Falster does not yet want to publish where the find was made – but states that it was made in central Falster.

By Leman Altuntaş.

#Rare Ancient Stamps Found in Denmark #Falster Denmark #patrice stamp #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #Iron Age #viking age

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lecoupdepatrice · 1 year ago

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#buying original art online #french art and design #online art websites #patrice's creations #online gallery art

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black-arcana · 9 months ago

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EPICA's SIMONE SIMONS Releases 'R.E.D.' Single From Upcoming Debut Solo Album

EPICA singer Simone Simons has released the music video for the song "R.E.D." from her upcoming debut solo album. Due on August 23 via Nuclear Blast Records, "Vermillion" is a collaboration with Simone's longtime musical partner Arjen Lucassen (AYREON).

Simons and Lucassen comment: "'R.E.D.' deals with the rise of artificial intelligence, imagining a future where the creation begins to outpace the creator. It reflects on the A.I.'s growing self-awareness and its unfulfilled desire to experience emotions, something that its synthetic nature makes impossible to ever realize. The song also looks at the double-edged nature of technological advancements and the profound existential questions that are becoming ever more important to address."

In a recent interview with El Cuartel Del Metal, Simons was asked how long she has been planning her debut solo project. Simone said: "Well, actively for, I guess, one and a half years, or one year even, with Arjen. We started, yeah, last year, I think springtime or so. But I talked to him about working together, I asked him if he wanted to work with me on my solo album already years ago, if he would be interested. And he was, but we were both just too busy. And last year, we also did the AYREON shows together; I was part of that. But already before those took place, we met up because he already started writing songs, and he always kind of wrote two, three songs and then I would come over to him to record vocals. And then a couple of months later he would have more songs. So it was not that all songs were there all at once. But we did it in a couple of sessions. And, yeah, EPICA was not touring a lot. And writing a new record for EPICA was kind of a little bit like at the end of the last vocal recordings for 'Vermillion'. EPICA was also in the studio, or writing camps, writing albums. So, for me, I guess this was the freest I could get my calendar, but I still had things going on. And in the past we were just touring too much. So the wish was always there, but not the time, also for Arjen because he's very busy as well. But now we were both motivated and had the time. The time was right now."

Regarding the first two singles from the LP, "Aeterna" and "In Love We Rust", Simone said: "Well, 'Aeterna' was the idea of Arjen to release as a first single track, because it is a little bit of a perfect blend of AYREON and EPICA; there's quite some similarities of both our music career, I guess. So it would be kind of a soft introduction to both our fans, to get warm with the project. But it's definitely not an indication of how the whole album sounds like; it's still very, very different. And 'In Love We Rust' is one of both Arjen and my favorite tracks of the album, and it's a beautiful ballad. Who doesn't like a ballad? And this month, there will be a third single, which will be a very heavy song. So I'm curious to see what people are gonna say about that. But all songs are brilliant and I like 'em all. They're like all babies in a way. But 'Aeterna', I felt a little bit sorry for Patric [Ullaeus] who did the video because it's a long song to do a video for. Nowadays singles are always three, max four minutes, and EPICA is always surpassing that, but, yeah, six minutes of supernovas, planets and many dresses. [Laughs]"

Simone and Arjen previously stated about "Aeterna": "'Aeterna' is the big, epic opener of the album and it comes with this amazing video too, directed by Patric Ullaeus. It definitely sounds the closest to EPICA and AYREON, blending powerful Latin lyrics with a touch of an oriental feel. We've tried to strike a balance between the mighty, bombastic sounds and the more atmospheric parts. Since it's the first track people will hear from this album, it's super important to us and we're really excited for people to hear it!

"'Aeterna' takes the point of view of a star about to go supernova to explore how everything in the universe is interconnected, like a cosmic web made from stardust. It deals our deep emotions, consciousness and other mysteries of life that science still can't fully explain. Essentially it's a reflection on our place in the vast universe and the connections that bind us together, as we're all, to quote Carl Sagan, 'made of starstuff.'"

About "In Love We Rust", Simone and Arjen said: "The video was filmed in just one take to keep it as pure and raw as possible. We opted to keep it in black and white so as not to distract from the song or the performance.

"'In Love We Rust' is quite different from our first single 'Aeterna', which shows how diverse this album is. This is one of our favorite songs. We hope you love this as much as we do."

For more than 20 years, ever since she was a teenager, Simons has been carving her own path as a woman within the world of metal. As a lead singer, icon, and role model for a whole generation of female metalheads, the EPICA lead singer remains one of the most prominent key figures in all things metal. After eight albums and countless global tours with her band, Simone Simons finally found the time to release her first solo album — a moment 15 years in the making. Her breathtaking debut "Vermillion" is a stunning feat chronicling her storied past as well as her rise to fame, and showcasing her many different influences ranging from prog rock to film scores to metal to electronic elements.

Of the timing for her eagerly awaited foray into the realms of a solo career, the Dutch singer says with a disarming grin: "EPICA has my priority and I always have the liberty to do other musical projects besides my career in EPICA. Yet I never had the time to dive into a project to this extent."

"Vermillion" track listing:

01. Aeterna 02. In Love We Rust 03. Cradle To The Grave (feat. Alissa White-Gluz) 04. Fight Or Flight 05. Weight Of My World 06. Vermillion Dreams 07. The Core 08. Dystopia 09. R.E.D. 10. Dark Night Of The Soul

youtube

#simone simons #r.e.d.#vermillion #Youtube

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j-patrice-chocolate-studio · 5 months ago

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Custom Chocolate: A Personalized Touch for Every Occasion

In today’s world of luxury gifting and culinary experiences, custom chocolate has become a unique way to add a personal touch to gifts, events, and even corporate branding. From weddings to corporate events, personalized chocolate creations have risen in popularity, allowing chocolate lovers to go beyond the standard flavors and packaging. In this article, we’ll explore the appeal of custom chocolate, how to create it, the various customization options available, and why it’s the ideal choice for special occasions.

What Is Custom Chocolate?

Custom chocolate goes beyond simply choosing a flavor or type of chocolate (such as milk, dark, or white). It allows individuals or businesses to personalize everything from flavors to packaging, shape, design, and branding, making each piece of chocolate unique to the person or brand it’s designed for. Custom chocolate can include initials, logos, special messages, unique fillings, and even specific colors.

At places like J Patrice Chocolate Studio, you’ll find the art of handmade custom chocolate that combines quality ingredients with a tailored experience, ensuring every piece meets the highest standards of flavor and design.

Reasons to Choose Custom Chocolate

1. Personalization Adds Meaning

One of the main reasons people choose custom chocolate is the opportunity to make the gift meaningful. Whether it’s for a loved one’s birthday, a wedding favor, or a corporate gift, adding a personal touch to chocolate shows thoughtfulness and care. Customization turns the chocolate into a memorable experience rather than just a treat.

2. Great for Branding and Marketing

Custom chocolate is an innovative way for businesses to promote their brand. By adding a logo or a unique design, companies can create an impression that goes beyond the ordinary. Custom chocolates are often used at events, tradeshows, or in gift baskets for clients. The presentation of branded chocolate elevates a company's image, making it both memorable and professional.

3. Special for Events and Celebrations

From weddings to baby showers, custom chocolates have become a staple at various events. Personalized chocolates make for unique party favors or centerpieces. Hosts can match the chocolate designs with the event theme, colors, or motifs, adding an extra layer of cohesion to the celebration.

4. Experimentation with Unique Flavors

Custom chocolates allow for creative flavors beyond the typical offerings. This could include specific ingredients that hold meaning for the gift recipient or match a theme, such as spiced flavors for the holidays, fruit infusions, or exotic ingredients like lavender or chili.

Types of Customization for Chocolate

1. Chocolate Type The base of any custom chocolate is the type itself—milk, dark, or white. Depending on your preference, you can choose single-origin or blended chocolates to create a specific taste profile.

2. Shapes and Molds For custom chocolates, choosing shapes and molds adds a unique touch. Custom molds can create chocolates in the shape of hearts, initials, corporate logos, or anything that reflects the theme of the event or the recipient's personality.

3. Unique Flavors and Fillings Another exciting aspect of custom chocolates is the ability to choose special fillings. Popular fillings include ganache, caramel, fruit, and nut combinations, but the possibilities are endless. For instance, mint, raspberry, or coffee fillings can elevate the taste of a custom chocolate, offering something beyond the standard.

4. Personalized Packaging Packaging is crucial for custom chocolates, especially for gifting purposes. You can opt for boxes that feature your brand logo, event theme, or the recipient’s name. The outer packaging plays an essential role in making the chocolate gift look luxurious and thoughtfully designed.

5. Add Messages or Logos Custom chocolates often feature messages or logos that are imprinted or engraved on the chocolate itself. For personal occasions, this could be a message like “Happy Anniversary,” while corporate chocolates might display a brand logo, a thank-you note, or even a hashtag for social media campaigns.

Creating Custom Chocolate: The Process

Making custom chocolate is an art that involves careful planning and creativity. Here’s a look at the typical process:

1. Consultation Most chocolatiers offering custom chocolate begin with a consultation to discuss the customer's needs, preferences, and any specific ideas they have. This is a time to choose flavors, fillings, packaging, and shapes.

2. Flavor Selection and Experimentation Once the general concept is decided, the chocolatier works on flavor combinations that suit the client’s taste and theme. During this phase, some chocolatiers provide samples to ensure the client is satisfied with the flavors.

3. Design and Branding After the flavor selection, it’s time to design the molds, if needed, and create branded packaging. This might include digital mock-ups of the packaging or samples of the molds to ensure they match the client's expectations.

4. Production After all details are approved, the chocolate goes into production. Handcrafted custom chocolate requires patience and precision, especially when incorporating detailed designs or complex fillings.

5. Quality Check and Delivery Once completed, the chocolates undergo a final quality check before being packaged and sent to the client. Many chocolatiers take great care to ensure every piece meets their standards of taste and presentation.

Why Custom Chocolate Makes a Memorable Gift

1. Thoughtful and Unique Custom chocolates show that you’ve put thought into your gift, making it unique and personal. Rather than a generic gift, customized chocolates reflect your care and appreciation for the recipient.

2. A Versatile Gift for All Ages Custom chocolates are versatile enough to be enjoyed by people of all ages, making them ideal for various occasions. Whether it’s a holiday, corporate event, or personal milestone, custom chocolate is sure to be a hit.

3. Indulgent Experience Handmade custom chocolate from reputable chocolatiers, like J Patrice Chocolate Studio handmade custom chocolate, offers an indulgent experience. Each bite is crafted to provide a rich flavor profile, showcasing the quality and skill of the chocolatier.

Conclusion

Custom chocolate is more than a sweet treat; it’s a creative expression that enhances the gift-giving experience. By choosing specific flavors, designs, and packaging, you can create a gift that is as thoughtful as it is delicious. Custom chocolate is perfect for adding a personalized touch to any occasion, from personal milestones to corporate events. With its luxurious presentation and endless customization possibilities, custom chocolate offers a memorable and indulgent experience for every recipient.

FAQs

1. How do I order custom chocolate? Most chocolatiers offering custom options require a consultation. It’s best to reach out directly to discuss your needs, including flavors, shapes, and any branding or packaging requirements.

2. Can custom chocolate include unique flavors? Yes! Custom chocolates often include unique or exotic flavors, depending on what the chocolatier offers. You can experiment with fillings like fruit, caramel, nuts, or spices to create a one-of-a-kind taste.

3. How long does it take to make custom chocolates? The time needed to make custom chocolates depends on the complexity of the design and the quantity ordered. Typically, it may take anywhere from a few days to several weeks, especially for large orders.

4. Are there vegan or allergen-friendly options for custom chocolates? Many chocolatiers offer vegan or allergen-friendly custom chocolates to accommodate dietary preferences. Check with the chocolatier to ensure they can meet specific dietary needs.

5. What occasions are ideal for gifting custom chocolate? Custom chocolate is suitable for nearly any occasion, including birthdays, weddings, corporate events, holidays, and anniversaries. Its versatility and personalization make it an ideal choice for celebrations of all types.

Whether you’re looking to celebrate a special occasion or promote your brand, custom chocolate offers a unique, memorable experience that goes beyond the ordinary.

#Custom Chocolate #Personalized Chocolate #Handmade Chocolate #Chocolate Gifts #J Patrice Chocolate Studio #Custom Chocolate Gifts #Unique Chocolate Flavors #Chocolate Party Favors #Personalized Chocolate Bars #Corporate Chocolate Gifts #Special Event Chocolate #Wedding Chocolate Favors #Custom Chocolate Packaging #Customized Chocolate Shapes #Chocolate with Custom Logos

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kevinsreviewcatalogue · 6 months ago

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Review: Terrifier 3

Terrifier 3 (2024)

Not rated

Score: 4 out of 5

With Terrifier 3, the little indie splatter horror franchise that could has entered "franchise mode". On top of its advertising, its merchandising, its tie-in single by Ice Nine Kills, and its staggering box-office success, the movie itself makes Art the Clown as much the main character as its returning heroine Sienna Shaw, with nearly every kill now a horrifying set piece of explosive carnage and Art's sidekick from the last movie, the ambiguously demonic Little Pale Girl, upgraded to a co-villain in her own right as she possesses somebody and joins in on the action herself. The best comparison I can think of is A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master, though I'd argue that this is the better movie of the two by a wide margin, one that not only cleans up the biggest flaw that held back its predecessor but also manages to be a twisted, explosive celebration of practical effects work unbound by the MPA (as in, they just up and released this unrated knowing damn well it would've gotten an NC-17 the second they showed up at the MPA's offices). It's a big, swaggering splatterfest that's as bonkers as its killer clown villain, and while it does unfortunately introduce some new flaws that leave me wondering if Damien Leone, the writer, director, and main visionary behind this series, is getting lost in the weeds a bit with his creation, this is otherwise one hell of an experience.

Set five years after the events of the last movie, our protagonist Sienna Shaw, who has spent her time in and out of psychiatric care thanks to what she experienced in her last encounter with Art the Clown, has just left the hospital to live with her aunt Jess, uncle Greg, and little cousin Gabbie. The idea of a slasher sequel focusing on how traumatized the final girl has become is not a new idea (all the way back in the '90s, Scream 2 and Halloween H20: Twenty Years Later built their heroines' arcs around it), but this movie does it well, in its characteristic fashion. Lauren LaVera gets another great opportunity to play Sienna as more than just the "tough chick" horror heroine, somebody who can undoubtedly still kick Art's ass but has also been left a psychological wreck by all the things she's witnessed. She has visions of her dead friends blaming her for their deaths, the last movie's implications that she was going insane all but spelled out in the text now, and she recoils when Gabbie goes snooping in her diary and reads about some of the things she described in there. We get a flashback to Sienna's childhood, her father played by Jason Patric in a cameo, illustrating how she loved him and driving home how much his decline and ultimate death broke her. I find it amusing how the Terrifier films, with their in-your-face violence and lack of subtlety, are sometimes seen as a rejoinder to the "elevated horror" boom of the last ten years, particularly how many such films use their monsters and demons as metaphors for some trauma in the protagonists' pasts, because Sienna's arc in these movies treads very similar waters -- and, for my money, more or less pulls it off. In two movies, Sienna Shaw has become one of the all-time great horror heroines, and LaVera is central to why.

It also helps, of course, to have a real monster for your heroine to face off against. And here, we have not one, but two of them. I've already sung David Howard Thornton's praises for his performance as Art the Clown before, and he largely sticks to what worked in the past, combining great physical comedy with a mean streak a mile wide to make for a sick, sadistic villain who treats everything like one big joke and is clearly enjoying himself as he hunts and torments his victims. At times, Art feels almost like a silent slasher version of Deadpool, a guy who's in on the joke and feels like he wants to let everybody else in on it too. The Little Pale Girl also makes a return, in a sense, this time possessing the first film's lone survivor Victoria Hayes, who begins the film institutionalized after Art had mutilated her face and driven her insane only for Art to break her out. If Art is a slasher version of the Joker, then the possessed Victoria is his Harley Quinn, a female counterpart who is not only just as vicious and terrifying but also serves as his "voice" throughout the film, being the one who directly taunts people through words as opposed to just gestures. Samantha Scaffidi is playing a character almost wholly different from what she was in the first movie, unrecognizable both literally due to her mangled face and figuratively as she partakes in the violence rather than trying to survive it, and she turned out to be the film's secret weapon, somebody who kept the scares grounded even as Art takes the Freddy Krueger route of becoming a more overtly comedic killer. Victoria brought most of the film's genuine scares here versus Art's more cartoonish carnage, and she proved to be a very welcome addition to not only the lore but also, more importantly, the movie as a whole.

That's not to say that Art isn't scary anymore, though. As I've said when discussing the prior films, sheer visceral excess has a weight to it all its own, and when paired with the more comedic elements of his character, that lends him the feeling of a sick, degenerate troll for whom nothing actually matters except his own amusement. This is a movie that happily crosses lines that other slashers wouldn't dare tread near, a gross display of viscera that offers Leone another chance to show off his special effects craftsmanship with the kind of set piece kills that feel like they were concocted by a schoolyard full of kids in a contest to come up with the sickest ways to die. We get a guy getting the skin on his head ripped off, liquid nitrogen being used to freeze a man's flesh before it's smashed off with a hammer, live rats being shoved down a woman's throat and then eating their way out through her neck, a shower scene to rival the infamous bedroom scene from the second film (...who says that doesn't fit there?), beheadings, dismemberments, the works, as well as Art actually "going there" when it comes to one of horror's biggest taboos. These movies are being hyped up at this point as gauntlets for seasoned horror fans to run (and shock others with), and while the tone is too lighthearted for it to really hang with the grossest examples of splatter horror, make no mistake: the warnings that theaters are putting up for this are there for a reason.

The pacing is tighter this time around, showing that Leone has learned from one of the main criticisms of the last movie. It's still just over two hours long, but it moves a lot quicker than before, each hour respectively feeling like the first two acts of a movie that's setting up for a smashing finale but still delivering the goods where it matters. The plot builds on the second film's implications that there was something more cosmic going on than just a simple slasher story, explicitly naming the Little Pale Girl as a demon and strongly implying that Sienna too has an angel in her corner, ultimately ending on a cliffhanger and leaving a lot of open questions that the fourth movie promises to answer. The added lore did a lot to flesh out the story, put some fun twists on a lot of slasher tropes (the final girl, the killer coming back from the dead), and got me interested in seeing the next one. That said, not only does it create a risk of continuity lockout for people who haven't seen any of the other films, especially with how the opening hinges so much on characters and events from the second film, it also naturally means that this movie's own story is incomplete. A lot hinges on whether the fourth movie sticks the landing, and right now, all I can say is this: at least they didn't try to expand on Art's backstory the way the Nightmare sequels did Freddy's or the Halloween sequels did Michael Myers'. His whole deal boils down to the fact that he was such an evil fuckin' bastard in life (which, if you've seen any of these movies... yeah) that the forces of darkness took a liking to him and revived him as their champion to keep killing. It's a simple explanation that preserves his mystique and doesn't detract from what makes him so enjoyable to watch, the kind of thing you'd expect a slasher fan to come up with if they were asked to develop the lore around a slasher villain, and I appreciated it.

The Bottom Line

Terrifier 3 isn't without its flaws, but it's still the best film in the series thus far. If Art the Clown isn't a bona fide horror icon at this point, then it's only because he's still fairly new. Check it out if you've got the stomach.

#terrifier #terrifier 3 #horror #horror movies #slasher #slasher movies #supernatural horror #damien leone #lauren lavera #sienna shaw #david howard thornton #art the clown #daniel roebuck #jason patric #chris jericho #samantha scaffidi

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