#pennys anniversary event

[penny00dreadful]

And They Were Roommates!

Part 2 AO3

Steve didn’t hate him exactly.

He was just… vastly irritated by his very presence.

When they’d fallen into being roommates with Eddie, Steve and Robin were just happy to have anywhere to live. 

They’d spent a few weeks living in the ageing BMW after they’d gotten booted by their previous landlord when the rent had spiked again and they couldn’t afford to pay it anymore.

Then Dustin had come to them saying he had a friend that had a spare bedroom that he needed to fill and they had jumped at the chance. 

It wasn’t a terrible apartment, all things considered. 

The bathroom needed a bimonthly mould clean out and the water pressure was nonexistent. It was almost always colder inside than it was outside, no matter how hot the weather got and the front door had clear signs of being broken down before, with a new lock haphazardly slapped over where the old one had been but it was shockingly quiet and secluded. 

A small and unassuming building that people tended to glance over sitting close enough to the city centre so that everything was within walking distance. It was twice the size of the place Steve and Robin had lived before, an open plan kitchen and sitting room with enough room for a dining table creating a barrier between the two. 

A nice dining table too. 

One that could fit more than two people.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom. 

Eddie had apparently wrinkled his nose at the idea of sharing with a couple but Steve and Robin weren’t about to correct him. He was a completely unknown person who seemed to make it his mission to look mean and scary, no matter what Dustin said about him. 

So Steve refused to feel bad about making assumptions.

But the guy was less mean and scary and mostly just annoying.

He left his shit everywhere, like he’d never heard of fucking organisation before. And he was so loud and exuberant all the time. Like yeah, they guy could enjoy his passions or whatever but that didn’t mean Steve had to like being an unwilling participant in it.

When Robin moved out, Steve stayed even though it was clear Eddie would have preferred if he'd gone too. 

He wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate was a lot. 

And he certainly wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate kept dropping hints he wanted his special someone to move in and Steve to move out.

Steve would show Eddie the meaning of stubborn.

They bickered like an old married couple constantly and Steve couldn’t exactly say that he hadn’t risen to the bait or caused his own fair share of problems between the two of them either.

Things had only marginally shifted once Eddie had proudly stuck up a flyer advertising the set list for the Pride Parade After Party that his band had somehow been signed to perform at.

When he caught Steve looking at it one morning he’d levelled him with his smuggest smile, like he’d just won some kind of argument. Like he was just waiting for Steve to go on a homophobic rant and run out of the apartment, never to return.

“Got a problem there, Stevie boy?”

Eddie crossed his arms loosely over his chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter with a feral look in his eyes, itching for a fight.

Steve had just turned to him with his sharpest, most cutting grin and lifted open the zippered side of his bomber jacket, revealing his bi pride flag patch sewn to the inner pocket.

“No.”

Eddie had glared at the patch like it had personally offended him before storming off to his room with a scowl.

After that, the barbs thrown at each other had gotten a little more… queer.

After one particularly frustrating argument, Steve had snapped at Eddie “I know how to keep a fucking shower drain clean, Mary.” before snatching his keys up and slamming the door behind him.

When Steve had finally seen fit to talk to Eddie again, nearly two full days later, huffing at him to hurry up in the kitchen, he wanted some coffee, Eddie had turned with the most exaggerated face of surprise and his hands thrown up in shock as he proclaimed, “She speaks!”

Steve had rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Jesus, you’re such a queen.”

Eddie had levelled him with his own cutting smile and responded, “That I am, darling.”

After that their arguments were full of a lot more condescending and patronising ‘Mary’s and ‘sweetie’s and ‘oh, honey’s.

It gave Steve the strangest feeling of companionship. Not only with Eddie, loathe as he was to admit it, but also with the culture and with the queers of old who were still around, who’d had to kick and spit and fight just to be seen.

Eddie had been buzzing around the apartment all day. 

It was A Big Date Night™ apparently. 

He was gonna ask the boyfriend to take a road trip with him back to Indiana to meet Wayne, a big step that he’d never made with a partner before.

Steve liked Wayne. But he liked even more how irritated Eddie was that they spoke. Wayne had called the apartment one day looking for his nephew and when Steve answered he heard the sounds of a game in the background and asked about it.

It was over forty five minutes later Steve turned to find Eddie staring at him with a horrified expression on his face and Steve couldn’t help the evil glint in his eye as he continued to debate Wayne on their favourite players.

But Eddie had left hours ago now and it was getting… late.

Really, really late.

Like four in the morning late and he hadn’t come home yet.

He was supposed to, he needed to be up the next morning for his shift at the nerd shop he worked at and he loved that job. He wouldn't miss it for anything.

Steve wasn’t like, worried or anything.

Not that Eddie needed to be babied, he wasn’t one of his kids. 

He was just… looking out for the safety of another human being.

The only light in the dark apartment was coming from the low glow of the tv and it was so quiet there was barely a sound coming from the speaker. Steve was curled up on the couch, swaddled in a throw and his mind kept drifting. 

He couldn’t pay attention to whatever was playing, his brain just kept catastrophising about what the fuck could have happened to make Eddie so late. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin and simultaneously felt his body unclench when he heard a key in the lock and recognised Eddie's wild head of hair coming into the apartment.

But that didn’t last long because Eddie caught the door before it could close with a loud snap like it usually did, shutting it slowly and softly behind him.

It was alarming because Eddie never remembered to close the door quietly, no matter how much Steve bitched at him. And it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose, Steve knew that, it’s just that his mind was most often somewhere else, focused on some other thing so that he simply… forgot.

Eddie cursed low to himself as he slumped into the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open and rummaging around for a bit before pulling something out.

He kept his head low, hair spilling out around his face as he jumped up onto the counter and sat. 

He still hadn’t noticed Steve sitting there, watching the whole exchange under the dim flickering light of the television.

It looked like Eddie had snatched up a bag of Steve’s frozen peas. And they were Steve’s. Because Eddie didn’t eat anything green unless it was artificially coloured and covered in sugar.

Eddie squeezed the peas in hand hands, considering, before he muttered to himself, “so fucking stupid” and brought them up to rest on the side of his face.

That kicked Steve into action, unfurling himself from the couch, keeping his throw around his shoulders because it was fucking cold and he padded over to the kitchen in his fluffy socks.

“Eddie?”

Frozen peas scattered, skittling across the tiled floor, landing in the sink, ricocheting off the cupboard doors and clattering off the walls as Eddie jumped violently at the sound of his name, softly spoken as it was. 

He’d snapped his head up and Steve could see, in the dim light of the tv behind him, unusual darkness spreading over Eddie’s face, like a stain on his pale skin.

Eddie tightened his hands again around the now mostly empty bag, looking back down at it. 

“‘M sorry about your peas.” He mumbled.

Steve could only blink in response. 

Eddie wasn’t supposed to mumble. 

He wasn’t supposed to be quiet and subdued and wilted. 

He was supposed to be loud and brash and tawdry and bright.

“I’m gonna turn the light on, okay?” Steve tried to keep any rising panic and worry out of his voice, tried to keep himself calm and level. He could barely just make out the small nod Eddie gave after a beat of hesitation.

The light was harsh and painful after so long spent in mostly darkness and Steve had to squint through his glasses waiting for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he felt his stomach drop.

Eddie's face was scrunched up as he tried to blink through brightness but that wasn’t what caught Steve’s attention. 

Because there was blood crusting on the side of Eddie’s face, settled around his eye and in his hair from a gash over his eyebrow. His lip was split and puffy and swollen and his cheek was slowly blooming from red to purple.

“You should see the other guy.” Eddie grinned with a wince, when he noticed Steve cataloguing, but his eyes stayed distant and sad.

“What…” Steve stepped closer, hovering his hand over the injuries, over his hair. “What happened?”

Eddie shrugged, dipping his eyes back down to the melting bag of peas in his hands. “We had a disagreement.”

Steve looked down too and gently took the peas out of his grip, placing the bag in the sink next to them. 

It was only then that he noticed Eddie’s knuckles were bloodied as well, split and starting to swell.

He had to swallow against the sickening anger coiling in his throat as he closed a gentle hand around Eddie’s cold fingers and he tugged it over to the sink, turning the tap on. 

“Your peas-”

“Fuck the fucking peas, Eddie!” Steve snapped before trying to reel himself back in when Eddie flinched, nearly pulling his hand away but stopping himself at the last moment.

With the softest movements he could manage, Steve got Eddie’s fingers as soapy as he could before slowly working his rings left and right, pulling them off his fingers.

“What are you doing?” It wasn’t quite a whisper but the question was low, almost like a hum.

“Your fingers are going to start to swell soon. I can leave them on if you’d rather have them cut off later?” Steve looked up to see Eddie watching their hands working together under the dribble of the tap. 

He shook his head.

“Well okay then.” He tugged the last ring free and examined them, silver and wet and heavy in his palm. 

There was still some dried blood in the grooves. 

“Did you at least get him good with these?” He gestured to them before placing them carefully to the side and gently towling Eddie’s injured hand dry.

A smirk tugged at the uninjured side of Eddie’s mouth. “You’re damn right I did.”

Steve gave a short sharp nod, placing Eddie’s hand back in his lap. “Good.” 

He moved over to the freezer, pulling out his own cold compress which Eddie hadn’t chosen for some reason and tugging the first aid kit from on top of the fridge.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” He said, trying to keep his voice even and his posture lighthearted as he laid the stuff out next to Eddie’s leg. He pulled their second drawer open and took a clean dish towel out, running it under the tap.

“Why, Stevie? You worried about me?” Eddie tried to grin but it quickly turned into a grimace as Steve pressed the damp cloth against the cut on his eyebrow, his lips turning down.

“Don’t be precious about it, honey. Just tell me. I’ll never stop pestering you until you do.” He pulled the cloth away and started gently brushing it across Eddie’s skin, trying to remove as much of the dried blood as he could.

“Alright, alright, keep your wig on.” Eddie huffed and pulled his mouth into a frown before shrugging again. ”Well I’m single now.”

Steve managed to keep his hands working, only halting for just a second as the words hit him. “Rick did this?”

“Yep.” Eddie said with a pop. “Everything was going good, you know. Standard date stuff, whatever. Then I asked him to come meet Wayne and he looked at me. Said, and I quote; ‘What exactly do you think this is?’”

Eddie snorted and shook his head. 

Steve was forced to pull the cloth away to stop tugging on the broken skin. “Wait so-”

“So apparently I’ve been seeing this whole thing as more serious than it was. Apparently I’ve been putting feelings where there were none. And get this,” he grabbed Steve’s hand, stalling his movements again and forcing him to look into those giant deep brown eyes, “he’s married.”

Steve felt his mouth drop open in an indignant stare. “No.”

“Yeah. I know, right? I’ve been the other woman this whole time.” He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “Just a bit of fun.” He tongued at his split lip. "And it's my problem, my fault that I didn't figure it out, according to him." He shook his head, forcing Steve to retract his hand from around his eye. "The fucker took his wedding band off every time we met, so…"

Rather than grabbing Eddie gently by the chin, which he was really, quite horrifyingly tempted to do, he instead said, "Be a dear and stop moving."

Eddie levelled him with a glare but there wasn't much behind it, it was all performative even as he tutted and started twisting the chain on his jeans around in his fingers. But he stopped moving his head.

"So how did that lead to this?"

Eddie scoffed. "How do you think, Mary? I got mad."

"Well good. You should've been mad. Did you throw the first punch?"

"Technically?" Eddie hummed in consideration. "Yes. But he had his hands on me before that soo…"

Steve froze, he couldn’t help it. 

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

"In what way?" He kept his voice light but the bright white concern underneath was like a foghorn. 

Eddie shrugged again and turned his head, giving Steve more access to the blood crusted above his ear and into his hairline. 

Then he leaned forward just a little bit more until his forehead was resting against Steve's shoulder.

Steve reached back to pull Eddie's hair out of the way, over the back of his neck so he could clean up his hairline.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, the silence wasn't tense but it wasn't calm either. It was anticipatory. Eddie was building himself up to answer.

"He didn't see a problem with the situation, I mean obviously he didn't see a problem with the situation so he just wanted to… continue, I suppose. We'd been… experimenting with switching before this and he tried to go full dom on me. Kept trying to get me to submit." Eddie's voice had started to shake even though he tried valiantly to keep it down and it made Steve wonder just how long he'd been keeping it down already. 

Steve dropped the cloth off in the sink and brought a hand up, resting it on the back of Eddie's still bent head, making sure not to cage him in, making sure to keep his touches light and gentle but still there if he wanted them.

"I didn't- I didn't want to anymore but he just kept going and I told him he wasn't asking my consent, he was demanding it. He said I had to do what he wanted because he was in charge and that’s how it works-” 

“Eddie, that is not how it works-”

“Yes, thank you, darling. I know that. I told him that wasn't what's done, no matter the dynamics and he was just getting more and more pissed off, like I was ruining his fun and he wouldn’t get off of me so I just… fucking decked him." Eddie laughed, a terrible broken thing. “I thought… I thought we had… it had been so good while… why can’t I have… why does it always have to end like this?”

His voice had become harsher, more defeated as he went on, cracking and pitching along the words until the end. Until a heart wrenching choked off sound was pulled from his throat.

Eddie was weeping softly into Steve’s shoulder and his hands were twitching in his lap, like he wanted to reach out, like he wanted some comfort but didn’t know if he was allowed. 

But he must have decided he didn’t care if he was allowed or not because the next second he’d thrown his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in tight, sniffling openly and freely into his neck.

Steve took the tiniest of steps closer and wound his arms around Eddie’s middle, bypassing his leather jacket and battle vest, snaking his arms underneath until there was just the threadbare band t-shirt between them.

He ran a hand up and down Eddie’s back as he shook, while Eddie just clutched on tighter.

“Why does it always have to be… why can’t I… why…” a terrible little sob broke out of Eddie’s throat. “Why does no one ever want me the way I want them?”

Steve had to pinch his eyes shut against the pure heartbreak in his voice, coming out halting and thick and so small. 

He just held him tighter, whispering little placating words and small shushes that he felt more in his chest than he did his throat. 

He hesitated for just a moment before placing a light little kiss to the side of Eddie’s head, into his hair. The same kind of kiss he’d give to Robin or one of the kids if they were in the same situation. 

That was all.

“God.” Eddie muttered, pulling back and scrubbing his hands roughly over his eyes and nose, apparently uncaring of his injuries. “Your shirt is fucking disgusting.” He eyed the stains and wet patches and no doubt little traces of blood he’d accidentally left there. “What makes you think that’s an appropriate state to appear in?”

Steve just rolled his eyes, taking the lighthearted jab for what it was, a want to move on, to start snarking again and cracked open the first aid kit. 

“Your face is disgusting.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the one who’s been cleaning me up, sweetheart. So, who’s fault is that?”

He glanced up at the cut over Eddie’s eyebrow. 

“That might need stitches.”

“No stitches, can’t be bothered with stitches.”

“Stitches not punk enough for you?”

Eddie did glare at him for that.

“Don’t even. You know I’m not a punk.”

Steve grinned at him. “No?”

“Steven.”

Even through the heavy talk, Steve relished the sight of the slight smile that had appeared on Eddie’s face and his return to bitchy banter.

“Edward, is there a difference?” Steve shrugged as he fished for supplies in the kit. “Doesn’t seem to be.”

“To you, maybe.” Eddie flicked at a piece of his hair. “God you’re such a… you’re such a jock.”

“Wow,” Steve raised his eyebrows, “let’s add observant to your list of positives.”

“Assho-ow!” Eddie shrieked as Steve pressed a butterfly bandage over the wound.

“You’re a giant pain in my ass.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Eddie growled at him, irritated and snappy, “you perpetual bottom.”

“Excuse you,” Steve snapped back, “I switch it up. I have versatility."

“Uh-huh.”

“But you gotta admit,” Steve flashed his most charming grin, “it’s a lovely bottom.”

Eddie scoffed but there was a red flush starting to creep up his neck. “S’not like I pay much attention to your bottom.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Steve gave a disappointed sigh, “everyone pays attention to my bottom.”

He didn’t get a response, just a bitchy roll of the eyes.

“You gonna call out of work tomorrow?” He dropped the cloth into the sink and crossed his arms as Eddie leaned back on his hands.

“Why? So you can mother hen me all day? No, thank you.”

“Oh sweetie.” Steve regarded him with mock sympathy. “You think you’d be lucky enough to get my mothering?”

“What if I die in my sleep tonight? You’d be inconsolable.”

“Yeah. Simply devastated.” He said as he all but pushed Eddie off the counter and herded him back to his room.

Part 2 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut (I remember you showing interest for this one but I won't tag you again unless you ask! 😘)

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

Divider by firefly-graphics

[porcelainseashore]

They Don't Make Them Like Her Anymore - VTM Bloodlines 20th Anniversary

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: I wrote this to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines and for a Gallery Noir server event by @vampemoqueen and @bigswordenergy.

Step into the shoes of our favorite sick freak, Vandal Cleaver, as he ruminates on the recent happenings in his life. Pliers and blowtorch included. Terms and conditions apply.

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, self-harm, body horror, mild gore, mild sexual content, obsessive behavior, blood bond, Hannah Glazer and Therese Voerman mentions, murder.

Hannah, Hannah… oh, Hannah. They don’t make them like her anymore, do they? It was sad actually—tragic—well no more tragic than another dead hooker found in a soulless apartment Downtown. Nothing that would make the headlines, not even worthy of a back page obituary in the local paper. Heh, I may be a sap for saying this, but she was good enough for me.

You see, they don’t make them like her anymore. No shit. The new girl? She can’t quite do the job like Hannah did, but since when were beggars choosers? Yeah, I know my place in the pecking order. At least she has the stomach for what I request of her. Doesn’t outright scream, “You fucking freak!” in my face, leaving me high and dry. I need my fix afterall, like the rest of you… Hiding dirty little secrets to dig out between your sorry sack of bones with a scalpel—do you know what a skilled hand can do with a scalpel? Have you ever run your finger across the edge of a blade? Any blade—come on, don’t lie to me now, we’re friends, aren’t we? Everyone’s done it once in their life, lost their innocence as blood blooms from the vulvic slit like a bouquet of roses. Sometimes it gushes like a torrent, depending on how deep you sliced. Shh, it’s okay to get carried away. Your secret’s safe with me.

Anyway, she does as I ask, like a good enough girl, then pukes her guts out—politely—in the bathroom next door. I know, because I hear it. Her chest concave and hollowed, heaving, organ crushing against organ as she squeezes her lungs, gagging on saliva and air. They don’t make them like her anymore, you get what I’m saying?

Earlier, I watched as the flimsy fabric of my skin peeled away, acid pink flesh melting from bone, and the charred layers curling under the blue flame like burning plastic. What remains blisters and festers. I’ve done it so many times I think all that can be salvaged from me are deadened nerves and an empty husk. I like being empty though. Sprawled out on the floor, naked and clean as a newborn while the world around me spins in circles. For a moment, everything feels attainable and unattainable. 

My queen… queen of all queens—

And just like that, it’s gone. I’m left with the chick who has a blowtorch in one hand and her nose in the other, pinching it as though the fumes are toxic. Her hands are always trembling, like an addle-brained patient, maybe because I don’t know whether I’m laughing or screaming half of the time.

My body is already mending at twice the speed when she brings out the pliers. I am a god and a shitty mistake all in one—not quite like the bitch goddess who owns me, but almost. Give it another hundred years, and I’ll be standing in this exact room, cutting myself open with my bare hands, alive and kicking to see the process. Imagine tucking my fingers under the sagging flaps, flaying skin from tissue as I pull it apart. Wet, stinking clumps of flesh and its sinewy tendons will stick between my nails, overstaying their welcome, yet impossible to scrub out. And that smell—mmm, that smell! A putrid, cloying tang of filthy pennies, assaulting my senses like a hammer to the head. I want to untangle my entrails like the wires in my brain that got crossed somewhere, just to check and see if they’re the same as everyone else.

Oh, so the new girl needs a bit of encouragement, does she? Lingering there slack-jawed and taking her sweet time. The missus—no, I mean, Hannah never needed to be told twice. Deep down, I think she even enjoyed it, the sick fuck. They don’t make them like her—

“Do it,” I hiss, saliva drooling from my lips like a rabid dog.

I hear bones snapping before the pain hits me, rattling my teeth as an excruciating jolt shoots up my arm. For a split second, I’m blinded by a searing white light. My thumb is dangling at an awkward angle and I must be howling, because the look on that girl’s face… well, what wouldn’t I give to have a picture as a keepsake? Frame it up on the wall like a goddamn Picasso.

Sometimes I feel the hairy legs of spiders skittering around my skull. It tickles like the high strings of a violin being plucked—faintly, daintily, as if it were never there. Sometimes I say things, but my words aren’t my own. And it’s happening right now. The girl before me is no longer a girl, but the queen bitch herself.

“Therese,” I weep and moan. It’s lewd and urgent like a fever prayer falling from my lips. I swear I could cum from her name alone, and I hate myself for it.

“What did you just call me?”

Therese in body and blood, spirit and flesh. Therese in all her unbearable glory. The cold metal clamps down on my trigger finger and her grin is so wicked I can only grovel and lick the dirt off her boots. She’s inside of me. When I hurt myself, she hurts too, and I enjoy it.

“Yes, please! Oh, mistress, oh fuck—”

My eyes shut as I throw my head back, mouth in the shape of an “O” that’s simply ridiculous. I try not to imagine how it looks like one of those snuff tape suckers in post-coital, or should I say, post-feast bliss. Disgusting and vile. I remember mocking them with Phil as I forced him to watch every single Death Mask film in that dingy basement of the Santa Monica Clinic.

When I come to, my balls are no longer heavy and aching, like an oppressive, shameful need. Semen trickles down my leg, pooling in my pants as though I wet myself. It smells of rotting fish and I’m trying not to cry. I wish it were the Nectar of the Gods instead.

A flash of anger rears up in my chest and I tear my eyes open. Therese—no, the new girl lies like a crumpled doll on the floor, mouth agape in that stupid “O.” Good enough like a pair of single-use gloves to dispose of in the trash without a second thought. Except, I used mine again and again. What’s the point if they break apart so easily? They don’t make them—

I yank her face towards me. The whites of her eyes loll back as I squash the fat of her cheeks within my bloodied hand, and her lips mime a fish sucking in breath.

“Tell me I’m good enough! Say it!” something that sounds more akin to a pig squealing explodes like a burst tap.

The stumps of my fingers move her mouth like a ventriloquist, but she says nothing. Blood smears across her dull skin. She doesn’t wake up. That can only mean one thing: useless. They don’t—

I let her body fall to the ground with a thud. Whipping a phone out from my back pocket, what’s left of my fingers fly over the keypad, punching in a line I’ve rehearsed a thousand times.

“A special order for the mistress.”

Tears cloud my eyes as I hear my quivering breath. It’s shallow and erratic. I still can’t tell if I’m laughing or crying half of the time.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[indigowallbreaker]

In before the update tomorrow

Here are my predictions/wishlist Stardew Valley 1.6 update! These range from "could happen" to "just let me dream":

Children aging past toddlerhood; gain ability to change their outfits

Another set of romanceable NPCs (eyeing Sandy and the Wizard particularly)

More post-marriage dialogue/events. Like an anniversary date

Festivals changing as the years go on. For example: after getting 8 hearts with Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian, maybe their band plays at the Stardew Valley Fair; the governor brings his wife to the Luau the year after you make the soup taste Delish

The ability to properly befriend certain NPCs like Marlon and Gunther

Separate screen to keep track of farm animals, similar to villager screen in the menu (helpful to me when I play a file I haven't logged into in a while and discover after 3 in-game days that I have sheep)

Non-binary farmer option

Please let me interact with the stuff in the community center I spent my whole file trying to fix

NPCs will repeat dialogue to you after you've spoken to them already during a festival to avoid the creepy situation of wandering around an event and not being able to speak with anyone like they've suddenly become statues and you're the only living thing left in town

Other bachelors/bachelorettes getting together after you're married (little bit of the old Harvest Moon rival system)

More NPCs that move to town the longer you live there, like Kent arriving in Year 2

Morris shows up every once in a while after you complete the Center just so you can appreciate how much you ruined this man's whole life. Or he experiences Growth from being in the Valley, whichever

Heart events occurring more than once. For example: replaying Abigail and Sebastian's gaming/RPG heart events; Leah can hold more than one art show to sell exclusive art; Elliot will have a new book for you to hear an excerpt from every year or so; help Penny teach the kids again; etc.

More ways to increase max health

Could I have a birthday please Mr. Ape ;_;

Fix the "Leek Surprise Gift" cutscene unlocked after Evelyn's special request so that I don't wanna crack George over the head afterwards just because I picked the dialogue option that would give his poor wife credit

Make George Nice To His Wife Every Once In A While patch

Option to fist fight certain villagers, either instigated by them when their friendship gets too low or instigated by you if you've just always hated them and wanna do something about it

At 10 hearts Jodi runs away to travel with Emily and Haley's parents because apparently no one on that street actually wanted to be a parent

Give me ten good reasons Willy can't adopt me

[pacthesis]

our vietnamese tea ceremony

some may or may not know i just got engaged to a weird guy i met in college that (to put it lightly) i wasn’t too fond of but after like 2 years of snubbing him he somehow won my heart i guess

i scribbled a comic about it cause whenever people ask how i met him they sometimes get invested haha

some people also may have seen him on america’s got talent or cbs news or jimmy fallon or on tiktok doing his pizza man shenanigans lol

people often ask if he pulled me with his dough skills and i have to clarify i didn’t even know about the dough spinning hobby until after we started dating and he didn’t do the tv/media appearances until like 6 years into our relationship 🤣

my parents were both boat refugees from vietnam (they fled during the war when they were teenagers and met as adults) and i’m american- but we’re not really that ��traditional” i guess

i think many viet people don’t get married or commit without having a tea ceremony haha

a hetero buddy asked who were my bridesmaids and when i told him i don’t have any he asked why and i just said “i like my friends” 🤣 (my childhood friends were there as guests though!)

i also didn’t want/ask pizza man’s family to bring the customary gifts cause i didn’t wanna cramp my style

basically the purpose of this event was for people to witness us getting engaged and be an opportunity for our families to meet one another!

5/23/2015 is when we started dating

for our first anniversary i got our initials and anniversary date stamped onto a penny and pizza man still carries it around 🥺

so 8 years later we got engaged on 8/5/2023

8 for august (8 years later)

5th of august (5 for the month we began dating)

year of 2023 (23 for the day we began dating)

i think people often go to a fortune teller or someone who knows what they’re doing to schedule important dates using the stars and other factors but my grandpa doesn’t believe in that and the rest of us aren’t really superstitious

we wore áo dài- it’s a vietnamese ensemble consisting of a tunic with a long front and back panel that is worn over pants

áo means “shirt/clothes” and dài means "long"

a lot of the time the bride wears red and the groom wears blue i guess but i wanted my outfit to look bridal when i imagine an american bride or a vietnamese bride!

i also wanted to wear a gold khăn đóng headpiece and to incorporate pearls to resemble what my mom wore when she got engaged to my dad

sunflowers are also my fav

(after we started dating i thought pizza man was tall and sunny like a sunflower haha 😭)

my makeshift shoebox altar- or as i like to call it: my “spirit pager” 😤

the double happiness symbol is two copies of the chinese character 喜 (xǐ) which means joy/happiness and red symbolizes luck for the couple

my mom asked if we should put up pictures of our deceased and i was like i don’t wanna make pizza man’s parents go out of their way to bring photos 😭

i think we were supposed to ask our ancestors for permission to get engaged or married or whatever but since my mom raised me to believe my life is mine to live i just announced it to em

as far as i know it’s not really a buddhist thing- ancestor worship is more of a vietnamese thing apparently

my mom said vietnam is a country with a lot of war and death in its history- so imo it makes sense how they incorporate the dead into their culture and traditions

after introducing each of our family members and friends- we lit a couple of incense to (casually) announce the news to our deceased grandparents and relatives

apparently burning incense is an invitation to ancestral spirits and to deliver wishes to predecessors

smoke from the burning incense guides people to safety or safe passing when they die- it also guides em back home on days like these

the spirit(s) depart when all of the incense has burned

next month is my grandma’s "deathiversary” (giỗ) so we’ll be paging her again soon

we used a tea set that was used to celebrate my 1st birthday to pour and serve (my pick) of vanilla caramel black tea to my grandpa and our parents

pizza man’s mom doesn’t like tea so i was happy i picked something she did enjoy!

but when my mom brought her family to america from vietnam- she asked them if they could bring a tea set specifically for me

my mom said it’s meant to be used to celebrate any of my special occasions

then me and pizza man said some nice words to each other and exchanged rings

my ring was pizza man’s grandma’s- his grandpa initially proposed with a smaller diamond but after he saved up enough he got her this bigger one

i don’t listen to any comments that suggest or imply this carbon rock is not humongous 🤣

pizza man paid to get it resized and to repair its prongs (it was well worn by grandma mercedes 🥺)

also found out my ring size is 3.25 (US) haha 😭

he also decided to get his grandpa’s ring resized and to wear it too!

my mom put this necklace on me- she says it reads “happiness” (i can’t confirm lol) but she received it from her mother-in-law when she got engaged to my dad

my mom was too scared to wear it after their tea ceremony cause it’s 24 karat gold and she didn't wanna wreck it

she said 24 karat gold hasn't been combined with other metals so it’s soft

i guess couples at viet tea ceremonies often get 24 karat jewelry- the idea is they can quickly sell it/melt it down for hard times

my mom also passed down her favorite jade bracelet and my grandma’s favorite diamond earrings to me 🥺

and on my 1st birthday my mom got a special ring made to celebrate my birth- she put it on a chain so the person i marry can wear it close to their heart

my mom also got a special ring necklace made to celebrate my sibling’s birth and gave it to their fiancée during their tea ceremony

it’s just the two of us so no more shiny token trophies up for grabs! 😤

i laughed when pizza man had to squat down so low so my mom could put the necklace on him 

after the ceremony i asked him if he wanted me to help him take it off (my sibling's fiancée keeps theirs in a safe cause she’s too scared to wear it daily) but pizza man was like "no i like it 😄" and wore it to sleep and showered with it and hasn’t taken it off since 😭🤣

at the end of the ceremony we lit the candles on the altar to represent the union of our families!

then we ate lots of food haha

my parents both cooked! egg rolls, fried rice, lo mein, bột chiên (fried taro rice cake)

my mom was excited because she knew many of our guests weren’t very familiar with vietnamese food and wanted to share that with them 🥺

and my dad was just so excited for me and pizza man and had so much fun getting the supplies and decorations 😭

my aunt and uncle and sister-in-law brought vịt quay (peking duck), heo quay (roast pork), gỏi tôm (shrimp salad), bánh hỏi (rice vermicelli), xôi gấc (sweet red sticky rice topped with coconut, peanuts and salt)

and pizza man’s mom and family brought lots of desserts

we have always been so amazed with how good their sweets taste and look! 🥺

we also got an ice cream cake

i wasn’t thinking and asked em to write “nicholas and amy lễ đính hôn” and they called me and were like wtf is this and i was like oh no it’s ok haha don’t worry about it! 😭🤣

we had some photos displayed but my sibling took lots of nice pictures of the whole thing!

i was happy i actually got the chance to spend time with and talk to everyone who came!

it went so well and we had so much fun that we’re thinking of doing something similar for our wedding- probably a backyard wedding haha

i was telling pizza man apparently some tea ceremonies have the first half take place at the bride’s home and then the later half is at the groom’s home 🤔

anyway reminder that leftover egg rolls can be reheated in the toaster

[thap1nkblog]

[★] ᵈᵒʷⁿˡᵒᵃᵈ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ!

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ᵐᵉᵗᵃᵈᵃᵗᵃ: keith powers [male!oc] x saweetie [female!oc], 18+, third person ᵈᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵒᵈⁱᶠⁱᵉᵈ: 8/18/22 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 10,937 ᵖ¹ⁿᵏʸ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ: i had an idea of a spinoff/au for one of the books i was writing at the time. i wrote this in 2022, practicing writing in third person. originally posted on wattpad, lol.

❝𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐦𝐫. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧.❞

❝𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞.❞

The energy tonight was potent, thick with the seductive, sensual energy that filled the club. Blue and silver confetti, and green dollar bills rained from the sky, covering the floor while lights flashed across the club, bathing everybody in hues of blue, while the crowd swayed unpredictably like a tsunami wave. It was fierce, tugging at you as you entered, beckoning to rope you into the cesspool of sexual tension and lust that was only fueled by constantly flowing drinks, given to patrons by scantily clad bottle girls who rushed from table to table with big bottles of various alcohols, while dancers dressed in next to nothing, and even nothing at all, spun about the poles on the main stage, luring men in just like a siren’s song. 

This kind of activity wasn’t unusual for Club Crystal - but tonight was different. To those tucked away in the comfort of their homes, eyes shut peacefully away from Atlanta’s fast-paced nightlife, it was any regular Friday.  It was the end of a long work week, and the start of a shorter weekend filled with relaxing and running errands. But depending on who you asked, tonight as a special occasion, one for the history books, a complete blowout. 

Tonight was 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥. 

Not to be confused with any fairytale, it was the fifth anniversary of the day Club Crystal officially opened its doors to the public. The Crystal Ball wasn’t just any regular Atlanta event - each year, it got bigger and better, and each year, the theatrics doubled, tripled in size. Beyond the double doors of Atlanta’s newest strip club, right on the old soil where Follies once stood, cars were doing burnouts in the parking lot, and if you paid a pretty penny, you could get what they called “A Crystal Flush” - where you and your car could come out squeaky clean - if you held onto your morals and dignity once you made it out on the other side. If you made it out on the other side. 

And in the middle of it all, surrounded by the smoke, reverberated, bass boosted music and buzzing, energizing sensation that seemed to drip and ooze from the four walls of the club was 𝐓𝐲𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧. 

And the friends that had dragged him along tonight. 

“Ooh, I love this shit!”

Sipping - or in his brother’s words - babysitting the Don Julio reposado that filled his glass, he slouched back against the couch, the black leather supporting his back, giving way for his shoulders to sink in. Terrell was like a kid in a candy store, flinging money over the balcony, the crisp, thin sheets of blue faced, hundred dollar bills slipping through his fingers, raining money down on the people below them. With the force and speed that he kept throwing, Tyree would’ve figured his arm would’ve popped out of socket by now. 

Tyree sighed, checking his phone, looking for any signs of life from his fiancee. It was probably the tenth time he had checked his phone already, and he had nothing to show for the hour that had passed aside from the picture on his lock screen that stared back at him, and wasted time. His battery was dying - his phone and his social battery, but the party around him continued on, his friends blowing through stacks of money without a care in the world. 

From where he was sitting, he could see the hosts for tonight’s event - Future and 21 Savage -  throwing racks of their own, surrounded by an entourage of security guards, who enclosed them like a human cage - dressed in all black and ready to go if something unsavory was to happen. Bottle girls dressed in black glitter leotards slid in between the security guards, bringing over bottle after bottle for Atlanta’s own royalty. 

“Oh my god, nigga she’s not gonna text you back, she’s doing her own shit.” 

RC plopped down next to him, tucking a stack of ones into the front pocket of his olive green Chrome Hearts hoodie. He peeked over Tyree’s shoulder, kissing his teeth at the blank lock screen that illuminated their faces. He attempted to pull the phone from Tyree’s hands, but Tyree tilted his wrist just out of reach from RC’s hands. 

“I’m just checking on her.”

“You in a club full of bad bitches, sitting mere feet from Future, and you worried about Michelle? Damn, Terrell was right.” 

“The fuck you mean Terrell was right, Julius?” 

Tyre scrunched his face up, which only made RC grin, practically from ear to ear. RC leaned in close so Tyree could hear him, the sounds of Future’s Freak Hoe thumping from the speakers, making it hard to hear the person next to you - let alone hear yourself think.  

“That you one pussy whipped motherfucker. You changed, nigga.” 

“I’m not listening to a nigga who’s still out here chasing hoes.” 

“At least I’m having fun. You over here checking your phone like you waiting for some STD results or some shit.” 

“You the last nigga I’m finna let talk to me like that. Didn’t you have the clap? Twice?”

“It was once! And fuck you, I told you that shit because I trusted you, you Ronnie DeVoe looking bitch.”

RC’s not-so subtle British accent rolled off his tongue, his words like daggers, piercing the surface of Tyree’s emotions. Any other time, Tyree would’ve been able to ignore it. But this time was different. He felt different. 

Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebrations, yet Tyree was stuck. Trapped. He was supposed to be happy, yet all he could think about was how time was ticking down for him. He was venturing into unknown territory - the hours counting down, leading up to the inevitable moment where he was no longer a boyfriend, a fiance. He was going to be someone’s husband. Tonight was supposed to be his last hurrah before he had to buckle down and get his mind on straight. Yet, his mind was completely elsewhere. And RC’s playful teasing wasn’t making it any better. RC didn’t know, or maybe he did, but all it did was make Tyree think about what he was walking into. 

Like he wasn’t thinking about it enough, already. 

The hours were counting down, leading up until the moment where he was going to be walking down the aisle, but the more he thought about it, the more the nagging voice in the back of his head picked at him. The more the nerves set in, the more his stomach twisted in knots, and the knot in his chest only grew larger. He didn’t know exactly why he felt like that - I mean it was natural to feel nervous right? To feel like you’d fall to pieces? 

But for some reason, Tyree couldn’t shake that it was a symptom of something bigger. Way bigger than just nerves. Bigger than just “cold feet”. Shit, he was feeling frigid. Like a sheet of ice floating in the Antarctic Ocean. Ice fucking cold. 

And he didn’t want to think about that. 

“Nigga, you still got that damn glass in your hand?” 

Leaving his spot at the balcony, Terrell sat down next to Tyree, the expensive, yet popular scent of Dior’s Sauvage cologne following behind him. Dressed to impress in a white and navy blue designer polo shirt, his brother’s heavily tattooed arms were exposed, his brother’s flashy style only amplified by the gigantic, diamond, two-tone cuban link chain around his neck, and the diamond Rolex watch that reflected the lights that flashed above them. From the moment they walked in, Terrell had all eyes on him, gathering attention from everybody they walked past, his personality and demeanor attracting them like moths to a flame. As bottled girls flooded their section with what seemed like endless rounds of drinks, they made sure to be extra nice to Terrell, his charismatic personality and the money he flashed making them swoon. 

“No, this is my-”

“Oh cut the cap nigga, you been sitting there like one of them bronze ass statues for the past hour.” 

Reaching for a drink glass of his own, Terrell poured himself a drink from the slender, tall bottle of 1942, clinking it against Tyree’s glass. 

“For a nigga who’s getting married, you sure acting like you going to a funeral instead.”

“This just isn’t my kind of scene, and you know that.” 

“So? Michelle ain’t here - the fuck is she finna do? Besides, this is your last blowout, man. You already know Michelle’s gonna keep you locked down once you tie the knot.”

Tyree watched as Terrell brought the glass to his lips, tossing back the liquid in the glass without even a second thought. He didn’t even wince as he placed the cup back down on the round, glass table, amongst all the other bottles of liquor and empty cups and glasses that took up space on the small surface, surrounding an ice bucket that sat in the middle of the table. 

But even though Terrell was putting on a larger than life, excited persona for everybody else, Tyree could see straight through it. It was in the way he was looking at him - worried, confused. Apprehensive. 

But that wasn’t new, especially from Terrell. He had been against Tyree marrying Michelle from the moment he saw the forty-thousand dollar engagement ring on her finger. 

 “I can’t believe you’re getting fucking married.”

And in all honesty - Tyree couldn’t believe he was getting married, either. It wasn’t that he had anything against getting married, no, never. He wasn’t afraid of commitment, shit, he wanted to settle down. He already did all the late night hookups, spending thousands of dollars on women he knew it wouldn’t work out with. He had been the boyfriend, the ex boyfriend, the side nigga, friends with benefits - and he was tired of the drama and mess that had came with it. And in his line of work, you needed a partner to keep your secrets. Someone that you could trust. 

But even with all of that, he never saw himself getting married so soon. It sounded good on paper. Perfect, actually. Something that would be the final puzzle pieces to his life. 

But he was only getting older, and his hand was practically forced due to the revelation that Michelle thought she was pregnant. The two of them had been talking about having kids lately, but he didn’t think she was completely serious. And with the way things were going, a better time for things didn’t seem to be stretching over the horizon for him. This was as good as it was going to get. 

But if you asked Terrell - it was a bunch of bullshit to him. He had always been critical of Michelle, even more so now that she was going to become part of the family. The two of them never really got along in the first place, so it wasn’t surprising to Tyree that Terrell was overly critical of their relationship. Michelle thought Terrell was an asshole, and she wasn’t afraid to tell him what she thought about him - which never failed to start all their arguments. And since Terrell wasn’t one to back down, he’d come in quick with telling her how she was a “stuck up, judgemental, spoon fed -” which by then Tyree would usually step in and break them up. 

“Well believe it, cause it’s happening.” 

Terrell rolled his eyes, nudging Tyree’s arm. 

“Well if you’re gonna leave me by myself, the least you could do is drink. You know how expensive all this shit was?”

“Again, I ain’t ask you to do this.”

“Fuck you. It’s a celebration for you. The least your stone cold ass could do is try to enjoy yourself.”

“I’m sick and tired of hearing y’all niggas’ mouths. Fine, whatever.” 

And with a little extra peer pressure from his brother, Tyree finished the drink in his glass, and gulped down the next shot Terrell had poured for him. He downed the next round of shots they all had prepared when Dominic rejoined the group, covered in glitter and lipgloss. And while Tyree decided against asking what mess he had gotten himself into, RC made a toast. 

 “To Tyree, that nigga is all grown up!”

And as the the dark liquor coursed through his veins, Tyree couldn’t help but find himself sucked into the enticing, sexual ambiance that radiated throughout the club, slowly tugging, perminating on his mental. His friends were right - this was his last night before he had to buckle down and fly straight. They were celebrating him, and who was he to refuse? His brother didn’t do all of this for it to go to waste, and it was all in the name of “celebration”. 

That’s what he was supposed to be doing, right? 

All of his worries and the barrage of thoughts about his upcoming wedding, and the pressure he was feeling seemed to fade away with a few drinks, beautiful bottle girls flooding their section with overpriced bottles of liquor, topped off with sparklers while strippers dressed in hues of pastel blues and white danced against them, money beginning to litter the floor beneath their feet. He could feel the booming, fast paced beats in his chest, the melodic tune of Lil Baby and Gunna’s Never Recover echoing throughout the club as the DJ and patrons below them recited the lyrics on time and without missing a beat. 

“Throw that fucking money! We know y’all got it!”

Turning his attention from the conversation he was having with Dominic, the DJ’s loud voice in his ears announced the next set of dancers on the stage, only catching one of their names before the horns and explosion sounds gave way to the next song in the queue.

“Shit..these bitches ain’t no fucking joke!”

As Dominic threw fistfuls of money with no rhyme or reason, Tyree found his eyes glued to the girls that twirled around the pole, the duo dressed in matching, soft blue monokinis. The strappy, barely there outfits stretched over their curves, the rhinestones that adorned the straps twinkling as the light as they spun around, their bodies gliding around the pole. His eyes followed their movements, bouncing between the two of them as they put him in a trance. Mimi, a beautiful girl with long, blonde hair in layers that framed her face, garnered his attention initially, his eyes catching the vibrant colored floral tattoo on her thigh. 

Money burned a hole in his pocket, the intensity of the flames only getting hotter as the other girl on stage caught his attention, his eyes and head following her movements as she climbed up the top of the pole.  The other girl, with caramel skin and curly, black hair that flowed over her shoulder ascended the pole with ease, the platforms of her heels flickering with white light as she contorted her body around the sleek, silver metal pole. Her hair slightly obstructed her face as she spun around upside down, approaching the bottom of the stage quickly, but stopping short before she hit the floor, dangling upside down. Her precise, but graceful movements were hypnotizing, complemented by the money flying in her direction, and hands reaching out from her from around the stage. 

“Go on, throw it. You know you want to. I know you see something you like.” 

Like a devil on his shoulder, Terrell egged him on, squeezing his shoulders as the two of them watched the mystery girl captivate her audience below. Terrell tossed his own stacks of money towards her, and soon Tyree followed suit, the bills slipping from his fingers, raining down on the people below. First went one thousand, then another, and another, free falling throughout the sky, the four men’s bankrolls blanketing the club like a flurry of rain. It just kept coming, and the more Tyree drank, the more money left his pocket - and he didn’t give a fuck where it was going. 

As far as he was concerned, he had already spent a shitload of money on a wedding - funding six college tuitions wasn’t going to put a dent in his pocket. 

“Aye, Tyree!”

Getting Tyree’s attention was Terrell and RC, who dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. The two of them were well past drunk - well at least RC was anyway, who swayed from side to side like a pendulum, slurring his words. Julius stumbled over his feet as he walked past them, bumping into Tyree on his way to the couch, where he dove face first into the cushions. One of the dancers, who he recognized as Mimi, sat down next to him, propping his face into her lap as she handed him a cup of water. 

“That nigga is done for.”

“You think? Anyways, I got someone I want you to meet.” 

He watched as Terrell waved over a beautiful dark skin girl, dressed in a similar outfit to all the other dancers Tyree had seen running around tonight. Terrell wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and the woman introduced herself as Fancy, whose voice was smooth, and sultry, with a pretty smile to match. Her burgundy red hair complimented her skin tone, and she looked him up and down, her eyes lingering on the Audemars Piguet watch that adorned Tyree’s wrist. It was almost like she was analyzing him, and even though he stood taller than her, she kept consistent eye contact with him. 

“You ready for your dance?”

“Uh, I didn’t order a dance.”

Tyree’s face twisted up in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. Fancy kissed her teeth, rolling her eyes as she looked between the set of twins, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah you did, remember?”

“I-”

“Well someone paid five stacks for a dance - either of yall finna let that go to waste?” 

Tyree already knew that this was Terrell’s doing, judging by the stupid, slick grin across his face, and the laugh that came from him. It was just like Terrell to set him up like this - he was always getting the two of them in trouble, and this was just another one of the tricks Terrell kept up his sleeves at all times.

“Five?”

“Pocket change, really.”

Terrell shrugged, unbothered that he just spent someone’s down payment on a car in record breaking time. 

Before Tyree had time to object, Terrell was already pushing in the direction of the stairs, Fancy grabbing the front of his white Heron Preston shirt, the fabric pinched between her well manicured index finger and thumb. With Terrell following behind them, Fancy grabbed his hand, leading them through the stuffed crowd of people, packed in together like sardines, nearly taking up all the space and breathing room available. Tyree couldn’t even run if he wanted to - there was nowhere for him to go, and with the firm grip Fancy had on his hand, she definitely wasn’t going to let him get away. Not a chance.

They finally came out on the other side of the crowd at the private rooms, which was a long hallway with a set of doors fixed into the walls on either side. An LED sign hung overhead, reading “The Jewelry Store”, in bright blue, cursive letters, and underneath stood two security guards that blocked the entrance. Dressed in all black, they both stood tall, with their chests puffed out, and stoic, frigid expressions across their faces as their eyes scanned everybody that walked past them. 

One was dressed in a black shirt and vest, with a gun holstered to his hip, while the other had a well detailed scorpion tattooed on his neck, white light that briefly swept over their side of the club allowing Tyree to see the intricate shading and linework of the ink. They looked Tyree, Fancy, and Terrell up and down, giving their sole attention to Fancy who leaned up on her tip-toes to speak to them. 

While they talked, Tyree looked around, feeling a wave of uneasiness wash over him. Sure, he had been in strip clubs before, dragged along because of Terrell, but never had he done anything like this. This spelled out trouble, big trouble, and he knew that if Michelle knew what he was doing, he'd never hear the end of it. 

But deep down, way deep down inside, part of him was curious. Where this curiosity came from, he didn’t know, but it kept him from walking away, keeping his feet firmly planted in place. 

With one last, analyzing, throughout stare before unhooking the gate, the guards gave their approval to the group, one of them joining the walk as Fancy led the way down the hallway, which seemed to stretch on forever to Tyree. The music was much quieter, and subdued in this part of the club, and Tyree could hear their footsteps as Fancy brought them to their destination, her heels clacking against the concrete floor, the shimmery silver tassels on her heels shaking back and forth as she walked. 

“Here you go.”

“What?”

Pushing him towards the door, Tyree went bursting through the door, nearly sent flying into the room by Terrell. 

“Have fun. She won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Terrell-”

Tyree could feel the wind from the door closing against his face as he stood there in complete confusion, reaching for the door before it swung back into the door frame, leaving him alone in the room - or so he thought. 

“First time?” 

Caught off guard from the sudden voice as he stepped further into the room, he spun around, his eyes settling on the large mirror that was fixed to the wall. Standing in front of the mirror was the mystery woman he recognized from the stage, who fluffed out her hair, making eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. She smiled softly at Tyree, unfazed by the baffled expression that had washed over his face, trying to process what had just happened. 

“Yes? Wait - no, no!” 

Tyree shook his head, tossing his hands in front of him, unsure of why he was reassuring her, and what he was even reassuring her of in the first place. A soft laugh came from the woman, who gestured for Tyree to take a seat on the couch. Not wanting to be rude, he obliged, slinking into the soft, fabric couch beneath him, watching her step up onto the small stage in front of him. 

Michelle was going to absolutely kill him. 

The thought of Michelle finding out was sobering. How would she find out? He didn’t know, but the mere thought of that kind of confrontation sent his mind reeling. He might be able to get away with going to a strip club - you know, stretch the truth a bit about what he did for his bachelor party when she asked - but there was no way he was going to be able to spin getting a lap dance. She was going to be able to smell the club on him, he just knew it. It was practically undeniable. 

“What’s your name?”

Pulling him from his obsessive thoughts was the mystery woman, who stood leaning against the pole in front of him, her arm wrapped around the metal. He tried his hardest not to look at her, wanting to avoid the reality of his situation. He looked all over the room, grasping for anything, something but the woman standing in the middle of the room to grasp his attention. The plush, gray couch spread out across the wall, simple, black paint covering all four walls. The light above bathed the room in a soft shade of blue, while along the floor was lined with white light strips. 

And no matter where he looked, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, slowly twirling around the pole, her attention locked on him. 

“Tyree.”

Wiping his sweaty hands on the denim fabric of his khaki, Jacquemus jeans, he accepted his fate, looking at her. She smiled at him again, Tyree subconsciously taking note of her warm, inviting smile, and her sweet, calming voice. 

He didn’t know why he gave her his name, but then again, he didn’t know why he was in this room. He didn’t know why he was here, period. As the alcohol began to catch up to him, his brain was practically screaming at him to get up, to leave, to be anywhere but here, that this situation screamed trouble - yet his feet stayed firmly planted. 

He could feel his nerves peaking, rushing to the top as the room filled with an uncomfortable, awkward tension. The subtle scent of weed and perfume hung heavy in the air, while silence overtook them, neither one of them opting to say anything further. Or rather, Tyree didn’t say anything further. 

Yet, the mystery girl didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she acted like the tension didn’t even exist.  

“So Tyree, how old are you?”

Was this what all the dancers did? Ask for your personal information? What’s next, she would ask what for the last four of his social security number?

“Twenty-seven. You?”

Yet, he still surrendered an answer to her question - Tyree unable to not notice how pretty she was, or rather, a voice in the back of his head acknowledged her it. He tried to ignore the new series of thoughts springing to life in his brain, breaking eye contact with her to reel his focus back in. 

“Twenty-four, but my birthday is in two weeks. I’m a Cancer. What about you?” 

“You believe in that zodiac stuff?”

“Yeah. When’s your birthday?”

She waited patiently for his answer as she twirled about the pole, the flashing white lights in her shoes beckoning for his attention. Even with his back pressed firmly against the couch, he could see the details of her outfit as she moved, giving him a full 360 view of how her outfit clung to her curves, stretching out over his hips, the thong seemingly swallowed between her ass cheeks. He wasn’t supposed to be noticing these details, and he swallowed hard, feeling his throat go dry. 

Just keep talking, Tyree. It’ll be over in no time. 

“August twenty-second.”

As if they weren’t already close enough, stifled by the stuffy, thick, tensioned air between them, she stepped down from the stage, standing in front of him. His heart thumped with each movement she made, his pace quickening as she leaned over, placing his hands on his knees, bringing her face close to his. He felt the smallest of shocks by her unexpected movements, glancing down at her hands. 

He didn’t know how, but her nails were the exact same shade of her outfit, adorned with gems and jewels, twinkling in the overhead light. Her long, manicured nails stretched over her fingers, gently grazing his knees. 

“Of course you’re a Virgo. I bet you’re a real critical person, huh? Always think you know better than everybody else?”

She spoke softly, almost whispering, ending her sentence with the same, nerve inducing smile she kept giving him. He rolled his eyes, knowing that she was right - but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“But isn’t that everyone?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

The two of them fell silent, but the tension before them had seemed to disappear, melting away in the matter of a few questions. In their silence, Tyree was finally able to get a good look at her, his eyes dropping to her lips, which were covered in a pink, glittery shade of lipgloss that made her plump lips stand out. Body glitter decorated her exposed, honey colored skin, and he noticed the beauty mark on her shoulder. Thoughts about how soft she looked slowly took over his mind, his eyes wandering down to her cleavage, before he realized what he was doing. 

A lurking, ruminating thought in the back of his head kept questioning if she was as soft as she looked, tempting, beckoning him to make the move. He couldn’t shake it loose, the thought holding on for dear life, taunting him as she invaded his personal space - not that he was complaining. That’s all he had to do, right? She wouldn’t mind, right? They were already this close - 

But what about Michelle? 

Michelle - his beautiful fiancee. The one he was about to get married to. The girl of his dreams. His best friend. 

He kept trying to jog his memory of her - visualize her face in his head, yet that all became a distant memory as the woman before him climbed into his lap. His common sense begged him to get up and go - take him as far as his legs could take go, but yet again, his feet stayed firmly planted, another side of Tyree taking over, one that was fully falling into the trance that seemed to be taking hold of him. 

Taking his larger hands in her delicate ones, she placed them on her waist, the voice in the back of his head finally getting its answer. 

She was soft. Real soft. 

And she smells good. Real good. 

But pushing to the forefront of his mind was his fiance, Tyree unable to control the word salad that spilled out of his mouth. 

“I’m getting married in two days.”

He licked his lips nervously, his eyes searching her face for a response. He was sure she had her fair share of men that came through that were in his position. “Celebrating” their marriages by spending their last few moments gawking over other women, as if a ring and some vows were supposed to prevent a wandering eye. Tyree couldn’t help but wonder if that made her think about him differently. He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about her opinion in the first place, but maybe it wasn’t really about her opinion, as much as it was about his. He couldn’t shake the lingering, overwhelming feeling that he was a bad person. He knew that he didn’t belong here, that this wasn’t his scene, that situations like this only invited drama, like his relationship wasn’t already rocky enough. 

His engagement ring catches his eye, the black, titanium band wrapped around his left ring finger, inset with matching black diamonds. It felt like only yesterday when Michelle and him were picking out rings, yet here he was, with his hand resting against a stranger’s asscheek. One that he only exchanged names with moments ago. 

But if she did have any ill feelings to what Tyree had admitted, he couldn’t tell, judging by her blank, unbothered expression. He half expected her to scold him, to get up and tell him to get his ass out of here, to ask him what the hell he was doing here. But she did none of that.

She just..continued their conversation, not missing a beat, breezing past his announcement like he had just told her that the sky was blue. 

“Marriage is a big commitment,”

She told him as she guided his hands along her body, the pads of his fingers sliding along the curve of her waist as she moved her body to the beat of the music. She maintained eye contact with him, Tyree opting to focus on her almond shaped, dark brown eyes, instead of how smooth her skin felt against his hands. Fuck. 

“You ready for that?” 

“I don’t know, it seems like the right thing to do.”

That was a loaded question - yet it wasn’t one that he hadn’t asked himself a thousand times before. In fact, it was all he thought about recently. In between planning an elaborate wedding, picking out cakes and decorations and finalizing guests lists, the deep seated feeling of reluctance continued to set in. He thought that by now he’d be over it, able to push past it. But as the hours ticked on - the worse he felt. He wasn’t able to shake it off. 

“But is that what you wanna do?” 

But that’s because the feeling wasn’t going anywhere. No matter how bad he wanted it to. No matter how many times he forced himself to smile through fittings for his tuxedo, or the countless times he had looked through venues and talked to planners, and put down all these deposits. The feeling in his chest only continued to grow, threatening to consume him if he didn’t do anything about it. 

And her innocent, well meaning question only answered his worst fears. Planted the seeds of feelings he had buried deep down, had convinced himself that he didn’t mean it. That it was just a phase. 

Dropping his hands to his sides, he sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. He couldn’t hide from the truth anymore, and the fact that he was in this situation confirmed everything. He was drunk, unhappy, and lonely, feeling more connected to the pretty girl sitting in his lap than the girl he had known since they were teenagers. And he was beating himself up for feeling that way. 

Michelle and him were the perfect love story. They were supposed to work out. They were supposed to be together forever, and live happily ever after. 

But he couldn’t fake it any more. Even though he really wanted to. 

But he couldn’t break things off. Not now. It was too late. For fuck’s sake, they were about to get married in less than seventy-two hours! It wouldn’t be the right thing to do. 

But what about how he felt?

That was something he hadn’t given much thought to until she had asked. 

“You know, you’re the first guy I’ve seen who feels bad about it.”

He leaned his head back up, meeting the sad expression on her face. 

“About what?”

His words slurred together, the syllables falling against each other due to the alcohol that washed over him, along with his feelings. It was like a wave crashing against the shore, the feelings he had pushed away, compartmentalized in the depths of his brain were rushing in with full force, ready to wipe out everything in its wake. It oozed out of him, out of his thoughts, dripping from his words. 

“About not being in love with a girl who loves them. Most guys don’t care.” 

“Or does that mean I’m an even worse piece of shit?”

He tilted his head back, feeling tears sting the back of his eyes. Tyree wasn’t one for crying, and he wasn’t about to cry now. Not here. Not now. And damn sure not in front of a stranger - regardless of how sweet she seemed to be. He wasn’t going to be one of those cliche niggas who poured their heart out to a stripper, when they really needed a therapist. Not that he needed a therapist, either.

He felt a gentle hand reach at his face, her fingers caressing the side of his face, gingerly tilting his head back down to make him look at her. 

“You’re not a bad guy, but sometimes you gotta live for yourself. Not for what someone else wants you to do.”

She spoke as if she had been in a position like that before - but the pessimist in Tyree made him wonder if she was being genuine, telling him that her wisdom had only come from the amount of guys who had probably told her the same thing before. She had no real reason to be nice to him - aside for money, yet something was telling him that she meant that for real, and was only trying to empathize with him. But then again, she was getting paid five grand for this “dance”. 

She was getting paid to be nice. 

But he didn’t want to think about that. What was he thinking? He didn’t mean any of that. Of course he loved Michelle. He wouldn’t stick around if he didn’t. If the feelings between them weren’t genuine. If their relationship didn’t mean anything to him. Michelle was the only woman he felt close to, that he could trust with anything. It was just cold feet. Everybody felt that way before they got married, right? 

And to avoid answering that, he did what he knew best.

Deflect. 

“Why are you here? You don’t seem like the kind of girl who would be in a place with this.”

She grinned, like she knew he was only asking about her so that it would take the heat off of himself. She didn’t call him out on it, and he was grateful. He was desperate to talk about anything else. 

“And what kind of girl do you think I am?”

He wasn’t expecting her to flip it back on him, though. 

“I don’t know, I’m just talking-” 

He stammed over her his words, falling flat on his attempt to get out the hot seat.

“I don’t know, you’re just being nicer than you have to be to me.” 

“You must think I’m paying for school or something. That’s what all you guys think, right?”

Tyree shook his head, squirming underneath her, which clearly amused her. She took her teasing a step further, continuing to playfully pick at him.

“You got a fantasy about saving a girl from the club? That turns you on?”

“N-No, I was just-”

She burst into laughter, interrupting his messy explanation, tossing her head back. She swept her hair over her shoulder, almost doubling over with laughter, the sound of her laugh just barely echoing in the room. She was laughing so hard she almost fell out of his lap, Tyree’s hands instinctively pulling her against him before she fell to the floor. The quick motion caused her to grind against the seat of his pants, a jolt of electricity running from his fingertips throughout his body. 

Her laughter stopped almost instantly, a heavy blanket of tension falling over the both of them. It lingered in the air, almost stifling the breaths Tyree took. Did she feel it too?

There was no denying it - he was definitely attracted to her. 

If Tyree wasn’t already in the middle of it - he was definitely approaching the danger zone. And the alarm bells that were firing off in his head were telling him that. Unfortunately, the sound of them was only subdued by the alcohol in his system, the same alcohol that was filling his mind with inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts about the pretty girl in his lap, when he should’ve been thinking about his future wife. 

But the thought of Michelle is so far away with this girl in his face. 

“I’m just a regular stripper,”

She leaned in close, her breath tickling his neck. She spoke in a soft whisper, pressing her body against his, the scent of her vanilla and brown sugar perfume filling his nose, her hand caressing the back of his neck, her fingers dragging along the chain around his neck.  

“But I do think you’re kinda cute.”

Her soft voice against his skin made him twitch in his pants, something deep, deep down within him stirring awake. She guided his hands over her hips and ass, his hands lingering in that position as she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in close to him. 

The inappropriate thoughts only continued in his mind, this time stepping to the very front, ruminating over the endless possibilities that seemed to race through his mind. She smelled so good, and her skin felt so good, he couldn’t help but hopelessly wonder what if she felt even better. His mind poked and prodded him with suggestive thoughts, fantasies forming in the back of his mind - wondering what she looked like without the outfit. What she sounded like. Even better - what she sounded like saying his name. 

It was just the two of them in this room - they could do anything. They had enough time to do whatever they wanted, and nobody would ever know. Not Terrell, not the security guard, and damn sure not Michelle. It could be their little secret. That wasn’t so bad, right?

Their faces inched closer to one another, Tyree’s breath catching in his chest, while the sexual tension between them bubbled over, approaching a crescendo. Could she feel it too? Or was he just crazy? 

But he’d never get the answer to that question. 

Loud, forceful knocking on the door cut straight through their moment, and she pulled away, Tyree exhaling sharply. 

“Time’s up.”

Tyree felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders when she stood up. His breathing returned to normal, the pressure that was building in his chest seeming to disappear as he snapped out of her trance. When he stood up, he swayed slightly from side to side, trying to gain his bearings. The room was spinning, his head was spinning, and so was his stomach. Why’d he drink so much?

As if she noticed, she took his hand, guiding him out of the room and back down the lengthy hallway. With each wobbly, drunken step he took, he tried to match her decisive, smaller steps. The music was pounding, reverberating through his body, almost like a breath of fresh air from whatever situation he had gotten - or almost got himself into in that room. 

He wandered over to the bar, not noticing that the mystery woman had left his side until his brother appeared in his face, sliding a cup of water in his direction. 

Any other time he might’ve been relieved to see Terrell, but after the shit he pulled, he didn’t even want to look at him. It was like looking into a mirror - a mirror that reflected his fuck ups and bad decisions right back at him, and reflected his own stupidity. Fortunately, it wasn’t like Tyree could see his face clearly, anyways - his head was swirling. Swirling with alcohol induced confusion, beating him up about his even more confused perceptions about Michelle, and his attraction to a scantily clad stranger - who represented temptation thinly veiled behind invasive questions and well intentioned advice. 

He couldn’t believe he actually considered cheating on Michelle. His future wife. The woman he had been with and pined over on and off since he was eighteen. His family. The future mother of his kids. 

Even if it was just a kiss - how far could it have really gone? He wanted to lie to himself, tell himself that he was stronger than that, better than that. He wasn’t a cheater. He didn’t want to throw away his relationship for just a moment of weakness. A moment of pleasure. If he was so strong, why couldn’t he stop replaying that blimp in time? Why couldn’t he ignore that feeling of her breath on his neck, the way her fingers lightly danced across the back of his neck? The way her voice sounded like a melody in his ears? 

What was he doing? What was wrong with him? He was going to marry Michelle and that was it. He was going to fix things. Fly straight and erase this night, and her, from his mind. He loved Michelle. He wanted to be with her - he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her - even though that seemed like a long, fucking time. Then what was the issue? Why was he so hung up on some girl he didn’t even know? He didn’t even know her name!

Because - he didn’t really want to get married. 

Hell, he didn’t want to have kids now. Not where he was at in his life. Not with what he did with his life. He didn’t want to bring a child into this world with the dirt he did. It would be putting too much at risk. 

More importantly, he wasn’t happy. 

“You alright man?”

Terrell shook his shoulders, his face flushing with worry, while the array of lights overhead bathed his face in hues of blue and purple. Tyree weaseled out of his grasp, putting some distance between them, nodding his head. 

“I’m good, I just need some fresh air.”

He doubted Terrell could hear him over the music, but he assumed Terrell got the hint when he didn’t follow him outside. 

Greeting him as he pushed through the set of black, double doors at the entrance was the muggy, humid air of Atlanta’s nightlife. Planes flew overhead in the sky, the stars obstructed from the bright, white and yellow toned lights that decorated nearly every building and street corner around the club. The line outside was still long - people still packing in, hoping to get a taste of the party inside, itching to cross the threshold into endless fantasy. The parking lot was full, folks posted up near their cars, some of them taking pictures while others played dice games or shared liquor from bottles they knew they couldn’t bring inside. 

Overhead was the sign for Club Crystal, the striking bright blue sticking out like an eyesore among the other buildings surrounding them. 

Tyree exhaled, leaning against the wall, pulling out his phone.

It was three fifteen exactly, and the club was scheduled to close in about forty minutes. He was surprised his phone was even still on - the battery on five percent, hanging on by a thread, much like how he was feeling himself at this moment. 

Even fresh air couldn’t shake the feeling Tyree harbored in his chest, his heart beating rhythmically to his breaths as he contemplated his next move.

There was only one move to do, honestly. 

And he was dreading taking the first step. 

In the back of his mind, way deep down - which was inching closer to the front little by little, taking giant leaps - he knew that the dancer was right. You can’t live your life for others. You can’t go along with someone else’s plans just because they love you. It would be selfish of him to continue a life with Michelle that he wasn’t happy with, just because it made her happy. Her happiness meant a lot to him, so why didn’t it make him happy?

But he didn’t want to hurt Michelle. 

And even though she would hate him, he knew she’d hate him even more if he followed through and couldn’t keep up the facade. It would absolutely crush her, and the thought of having to “fake it to make it” was going to crush him too. It was too late to get his deposits back and refunds for everything he had paid for already, but he had the money to not have to worry about that. And even though he’d never get that back, it was never too late to get peace of mind for his decisions and needs. 

Staring down at the text message thread between him and Michelle, his fingers hovered over the keyboard. The last time they had talked was hours ago, right before they went their separate ways for their parties. Cutesy, sugary-sweet exchanges of “I love yous” flooded in between their regular conversations, with Michelle’s last message telling him to have fun, but not too much fun. 

Tyree wasn’t one to be dumbfounded, or just draw blank - but for the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to say. For once, the overworking, clanking and crashing together gears that symbolized his brain were paralyzed, like someone threw a wrench dead center in the middle of it all. 

“You think that wing place will be open?” 

“It’s Friday, it might be.”

“I’d rather have Waffle House - they got them big ass chicken wings at that spot! It be making me feel like I’m really eating an animal.” 

“That’s cause it's..really a chicken, Mimi.” 

“I know, but baby chicks are so cute..I feel so bad for eating their parents.” 

Tyree looked up briefly from his phone as the three women exited through the doors next to him, engrossed in their conversation about what they were looking to eat. Dressed in sweatsuits and carrying stuffed, duffle bags on their shoulders, a security guard came out trailing behind them, escorting them through the parking lot. Tyree recognized two of them as Fancy and Mimi, watching them as the security guard pushed past drunk party-goers who stood outside, hoping to make a move on them, hollering a variety of obscenities. 

Although their faces were relatively familiar, the third woman was who he recognized the most. 

And here she was, approaching him from across the parking lot. 

Separating from her group, she dragged her feet beneath her, adjusting the pink bag on her shoulder. She walked slowly, walking through the line of cars that were trying to get out of the parking lot, and he noticed she kept constantly looking back and forth with almost each step. Almost like she was looking for someone, something. 

Tyree could feel his heart quicken in his chest, and by the time they were face to face, he felt like it was about to jump out of his chest and fall flat onto the ground between them. His hands were clammy, sweating, and he tightened his grip on his phone, finding himself anticipating her words, feeling himself slowly falling into that trance. The temptation. 

“You okay?”

Was all she said, keeping the distance between the two of them. Her demeanor had shifted, and he noticed she looked withdrawn, shrunken into herself, completely different from the woman who seemed to be in control of the situation between them not too long ago. Dressed casually, the black, cropped tank top and brown flared sweatpants were a stark contrast from her previous outfit, having exchanged her tall, platform heels for plain, black Crocs. Her hair framed the soft, beautiful features of her face, her arms and chest sparkling with shimmery, body glitter. 

“I don’t know,” 

He sighed, trying to shake loose the knot forming in his chest. 

He just had to take the first step.

Nothing major, right?

But the first step was always the hardest step. 

“But shit, I will be.”

Sending off a quick message to Michelle, telling her that they needed to talk, he locked his phone and pushed it back into the front pocket of his jeans. He gave his full attention to the woman before him, who tilted his head at him, her eyes analyzing him, seeing the slightest hint of a pitying, sympathetic look tugging at her features. They were quiet, taking each other in, an uneasy, weighted tension inching in between their lack of conversation. 

It was clear she didn’t know what to say, and neither did he, but it seemed like she understood what he meant without him having to explain it further.

She looked over her shoulder, at the black, Dodge Durango where her friends were waiting, hanging out of the window. They had been watching their exchange for the past few minutes, and the driver flashed their lights, signaling for her to hurry things up. She looked back at him, something lingering in her eyes, like she had something to say, but was unable to piece it together. 

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

She sighed, adjusting the bag on her shoulder again, looking him over, like she was savoring the moment between them.

“Well good night, Tyree.” 

“Yeah, good night-”

“Yaya.”

He nodded, finally able to put a face to the name. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he didn’t expect it to be so simple. So easy, slipping from her lips smoothly. He found himself repeating it in his mind, bouncing back and forth between the two syllables like a metronome. 

“Good night, Yaya.”

Smiling at him, she spun on her heel, and with a slight bounce in her step and a subtle switch of her hips, she headed back to her friends. 

But something in Tyree wasn’t just going to let her walk away so easily. 

And Yaya only made it halfway across the parking lot before Tyree’s own footsteps trailed behind her, the last bit of liquid courage flushing through his bloodstream. 

“Yaya!”

“Hm?”

She stopped in place, watching as he closed the distance between them. He towered over her smaller frame, and she looked up at him, a ready listener for whatever he decided to say next.

“Can I get your number?”

“Ain’t you finna get married?”

Yaya knitted her eyebrows together, her face scrunching up in disbelief. She crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her head sideways, the stern, stiff look she gave Tyree leaving him to pick up the pieces of the waning courage he once had. He could feel himself sobering up by the second - kicking himself for his forwardness. 

“I uh..”

Rolling her eyes at him, she turned back around, starting to walk away from him. Yet, Tyree followed, calling her name again. 

“It’s Amaiyah.”

“Huh?”

She shook her head, her arms still crossed over her chest. They stood a few feet away from each other, and Tyree could see the security guard that stood at the hood of the car, eyeing him. It was the same security guard from earlier, with the scorpion tattoo. Time was ticking, and if Tyree was going to make a move, he needed to do so sooner rather than later. And judging from the expression written across her face, Tyree’s time was about to run out at any moment. 

“My name. I’m not a stripper twenty-four seven. Call me Amaiyah.”

Uh-mai-yuh. His brain savored it, just like it did with her dancer name. Pretty name for a pretty girl. It suited her. 

“It suits you.”

Come on, Tyree. You got to have something way better than that. 

“Why should I give you my number?”

Amaiyah stepped towards him, Tyree trying to figure out what to say before he was staring down at her face again. 

And he couldn’t come up with shit.

She snickered, knowing she had caught him off guard, staring up into his eyes again. She stared long and hard too, like she was trying to get a clear read on him, debating if he was well worth the risk. And for the first time in a long time, Tyree felt like a high schooler, the look in her eyes reminding him of how a parent would over analyze someone coming over to take their daughter on a date. 

But then her eyes softened, and a wave of relief flushed over him. He passed her checklist. Good. 

She held her hand out, and he didn’t hesitate to slip his unlocked phone into her hand. He watched patiently as typed her number in, adding herself to his short list of contacts. The bright light from his phone reflected in her face, and she locked it back before she handed it to him, pushing it into his hand. 

“Figure your shit out and then come see me again.”

“How am I supposed to know the next time you work?”

The cynic in him told him that it was just a ploy to get him back in the club, back in that cesspool of sexual tension and lust, clouded with free flowing alcoholic drinks. She thought he was a sucker - that she’d get him to spend every last dollar he had on her-

“I work every Wednesday through Saturday,”

She broke his rapid train of thought, bursting the bubble of negative thoughts that tried to balloon up. 

“Don’t text me if you change your mind. I’m not a homewrecker.”

He nodded, listening intently as her subtle accent popped at the end of her words. She sounded like she was from out of town, her accent covered by a thin blanket of that familiar, southern, Atlanta twang. Her face was serious, and her words told him she meant business. 

And Tyree was all about his business. 

With an unspoken understanding between them, and a feminine wave, she turned on her heel, heading back towards her ride. Fancy and Mimi eyed him as Amaiyah climbed into the SUV, and he could hear them teasing her, their voices being drowned out by the low rumble of the engine, the car’s headlights shining against his legs.  

With her number in his phone, and a confident pep in his step, he headed back in the direction of the club. People spilled out from the doors as people filtered in, stumbling over their own feet as they walked. One woman nearly fell to her knees, but caught herself just as a fountain of throw up spilled out from her. Gross.

As people avoided the woman - who had to throw up again - Tyree scanned the crowd for his friends, meeting them halfway as he saw them split off from the people wandering out to their cars. Leading the group was Terrell, with RC and Dominic following close behind, Dominic practically being dragged out by RC, who was holding him up. 

“I was wondering where you went.”

Terrell wrapped his arms around Tyree’s shoulders, the two of them watching RC struggle to help Dominic stand on his own two feet. RC had since sobered up - but Tyree could tell he was still pretty drunk, judging by the way he staggered back and forth. If a relatively strong gust of wind came through, Dominic would’ve ended up right on the ground.

 It wasn’t a surprise to Tyree that Dominic was wasted - that was typically his thing whenever they all went out. Dominic was the only grown ass man he knew that would purposely go past his limit and end up blackout drunk. This was no exception, in fact, the fact that tonight was so special only gave Dominic even more of a reason to get that drunk. 

“Who’s that?”

RC pointed past Tyree, which made Terrell turn his head to look behind his brother. He knew RC was referring to Amaiyah and her friends in the car behind them, and he could still hear the rumble of the car, and see the headlights that shined straight in their direction. Tyree shook his head, waving his question off, keeping the events of tonight close to his chest. It was already tossed in the metaphorical lockbox in his head, wiped clean from the rest of his brain. He played into the facade, however, glancing over his shoulder briefly. 

“I don’t know. Nice car though.”

“Can we get food? I’m fucking starving.” 

Domonic spoke through his slurred speech, the words coming out all at once, sounding like his mouth was filled with water. He groaned as RC shifted his weight, Julius rolling his eyes as he dragged Domonic in the direction of the car. They joined the crowd of people, walking to Terrell’s forest green Lamborghini Urus at the far end of the parking lot. 

Behind them, the Durango eased around them, cutting into the flow of cars that were formed in a line to leave. It rolled to a stop in front of the twins, the Toyota and several other cars behind them beginning to honk as the line halted. Tyree and Terrell exchanged glances, the limousine style window tints reflecting their image right back at them. The driver side window rolled down slowly, revealing the driver to be a brown skin man with face tattoos, an ankh tattooed under his right eye. He looked them up and down before leaning back, Tyree realizing that Fancy was in the passenger seat. She leaned forward across her seat, her eyes locked on Terrell, a smirk stretched across her face. 

“Bye Terrell.” 

A goofy smile danced across Terrell’s face, a smile Tyree had seen one too many times. He didn’t even have to ask to understand the picture being painted in front of him, and he shook his head at his brother’s antics. 

“Bye Fancy..”

With their goodbyes exchanged, the driver rolled the window back up, giving the two of them an acknowledging nod. He sped forward, disregarding the people honking behind him, swerving around a group of people walking across the parking lot. The Durango cut to the front of the line, Tyree watching as it pulled out onto the street, heading in the opposite direction of the club, the crackle of the car’s engine fading out into the distance.

“So,”

Terrell turned to him, a sly grin replacing the smile on his face. He could already tell what he was thinking, and Tyree refused to give into the excited, expectant look in his brother’s eyes. Tyree wasn’t saying a word. What happened tonight was between him, Amaiayah, and what happened in the private room inside Club Crystal. And that’s exactly how he wanted to keep it - private. 

Too bad Terrell was already one step ahead of him. 

“You get her number? Don’t lie to me, nigga.”

Tyree couldn’t fight the smile he had, and Terrell grinned, shaking him back and forth, laughing. And knowing he was caught, Tyree unlocked his phone to show him proof. The screen opened right back up to Amaiyah’s contact information, where she left her name with a pink heart next to it.

“Yeah, I did-”

With newfound confidence and all the cockiness in the world, he handed the phone to Terrell, only for his face to fall flat when Terrell burst out in laughter, practically doubling over onto the ground. 

“What? The fuck are you-”

Snatching the phone back, Tyree looked over the screen, trying to figure out what was so damn funny all of a sudden. Terrell was still laughing, wrapping his arms around his stomach as deep laughs escaped from his chest, ones that left him gasping for air and unable to form a clear sentence. 

Then he saw it - right there - staring back at him, were the nine digits of Amaiyah’s phone number. Not the normal, required ten. 

“Looks like she got you-”

“You got makeup on your shirt.”

Stopping Terrell’s laughter in his tracks, Tyree pointed at the big makeup stain on the front of his shirt. Terrell’s face dropped, pulling at the hem of his shirt, getting a clear look at the well defined makeup stain. He kissed his teeth, sighing harshly, and threw his hands up into the air, Tyree half expecting him to start throwing a tantrum. 

“Fuck, this shirt was Prada!” 

“And now it’s nada.”

“Nigga, fuck you!”

[the-fiction-witch]

Let's Play P2

Media - The Maze Runner Series AU Characters - Newt Couples - Newt X Reader Rating - 18 + death / Saw movie Word Count - 2787

As I made my way to the car, I reached for the last bag of groceries. Carrying it inside, I was greeted by the familiar scene of toys, skirts, and glitter scattered everywhere in the house. As I set my heavy bags down on the spacious granite kitchen island, I took a deep breath and embarked on the familiar routine of unpacking the groceries.

"Ooh that you sweetie?" Newt called from the living room couch where he sat feeding little baby Penny,

"Yep, and I brought chocolate mini rolls," I answered,

"My god do I love you," he chuckled, "Penny, shall we go see mummy, shall we? yeah." He cooed as he took her bottle away and slowly pushed up coming to the kitchen with a bit of a wobble where the joins of his prosthetic needed adjusting again, "Hi," He smiled as we shared a soft kiss,

"Hi," I smiled back, "how's our littlest lady?"

"Little and lovely," he chuckled rubbing her nose on his,

"Good, how are the other two?"

"Lilly's bus should be here any minute, I picked up Alice from school earlier and she is in bed resting up with her tummy ache."

"Good, I'll take her up some soup in a bit," As I gently cradled little Penny in my arms, I couldn't help but shower her with soft kisses on her sweet blonde head. At that moment, the door suddenly opened, and Lilly rushed in, as she always did, throwing her bag carelessly on the stairs. Without hesitation, she made a beeline for Newt and embraced him tightly.

"Whoa, hello there. How was school?" he asked,

"Bad."

"Oh, why bad?"

"My tummy hurts," she whines,

"Ohhh, I had to pick your little sister up from school at lunch cause she wasn't feeling well,"

"Why didn't you go to the nurse Lilly?" I asked,

"I thought I would be okay till I got home,"

"Okay, well have a glass of water and go lay in bed, I'll bring you and Alice up some soup okay?"

After nodding in agreement, she gave Newt and me each a warm hug before she headed upstairs. I finished putting away the groceries and let the soup simmer on the stove, releasing its savoury aroma into the air. I then joined Newt on the sofa, where he gently rocked baby Penny in her bassinet, soothing her with a sweet lullaby.

"You think it's those fish fingers from last night?" He asked,

"Maybe, but then we'd be sick," I shrug,

"True," He nodded, "... the bread for their sandwiches maybe? we did get it reduced."

"No, I had it today I feel fine," I shrug, "Plus you picked Alice but before she ate her lunch,"

"Good point," He agreed, "Maybe there's just something going around, you've been to that school place is always sticky,"

"I know," I sighed leaning my head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around me, "I just worry is all,"

"Of course you're worried, you think I'm not worried about our little angels?" he chuckled, "Anything serious first call to the doctor okay?"

"Okay," I nodded giving him a small kiss,

"Good, now let's pop the telly on while dinner cooks and maybe we can have a little cuddle up in bed tonight?" he asked with a sly hopeful look in his eyes,

"Newt..." I rasied an eyebrow playfully,

He pouted, "Please."

"I'll think about it."

"Yes!" He celebrated,

He grabbed the remote and began to flip through channels as usual we didn't find much so just put the news on while we relaxed,

'Today marks the ten-year anniversary of the apprehension of the notorious serial killer Austin Ledwik, widely known as 'The Game Master.' Ledwik was responsible for orchestrating a series of horrifying and elaborate events in which unsuspecting individuals were abducted and trapped in intricately designed murder scenarios, forced to compete for their lives. Throughout his criminal career, Ledwik hosted a total of sixteen of these deadly games, resulting in a devastating death toll of over one hundred victims. His final grim spectacle, themed around Valentine's Day and dubbed the "Love Games," culminated in an unexpected victory by one of the contestants, ultimately leading to Ledwik's capture by law enforcement before he could escape-"

Newt quickly turned the TV off,

"Thank you," I smiled,

"You're welcome, not exactly something either of us need reminding," He sighed,

"Come on dinner time,"

"Umm your delicious feel-better soup, I shall take a whole bucket if you please," He cooed,

"No buckets only a bowl available today,"

"Ohh well, I suppose it'll do," After exchanging a tender kiss, I made my way to the kitchen to prepare a meal. Gathering four bowls, I carefully portioned out servings for each of the girls, as well as for Newt and myself. Abruptly, without any warning, a deafening, echoing BANG shattered the quiet, and everything around me plunged into darkness.

When I regained consciousness, I felt a shiver course through my body. As I slowly opened my eyes, I found myself sprawled on the floor of what seemed to be the dimly lit, cobweb-filled attic of an old farmhouse. To my surprise, I was surrounded by a diverse group of individuals - a young girl in a dishevelled pink dress with bright blonde hair and smudged makeup, an older man wrapped in a bulky coat, a woman sporting a long ponytail and dressed in workout clothes, and a muscular man donning a police uniform. Newt lay next to me unconscious still, and an unsettling sensation gnawed at my gut.

"Not again..." I gasped, "Newt... Newt wake up!" I begged,

"Umm?" He groaned, "Ohh bloody hell my head-" He complained before his eyes cleared, "Where the fuck are we..." He asked his tone strangely calm but deeply serious,

Slowly others began to wake we all had the same questions,

"What is this place..." The older man asked,

"AHhhhhhh I'm like so Claustrophobic! Let me out!" The blonde woman whined,

"How did we get here? Mike, what's going on?" The other woman asked the officer,

"I don't know Grace." he told her, "Who are you to?"

"Y/n and Isaac Newton," I answered,

"And you?"

"Uhh Franklin James." The older man nodded,

"Mercedes Prance," The blonde girl whined,

"Okay... okay, Officer Grace Wilson." The woman nodded,

"And Officer Mike Smith. Everyone just remains calm." Mike answered, "Anyone any idea how we got here?"

Everyone shook their heads,

"It's gonna be that game freak!" Mercedes screamed,

"That was ten years ago you dumbass!" Franklin glared at her,

"It can't be Austin Ledwik, The Guy hung himself after two weeks in prison. I know I checked the body myself." Grace explained,

"Copycat?" Mike asked,

"Well, Well, Welcome Everyone!" A voice cooed,

A TV in the corner of the room showing a very joyful man with bright blue hair,

"I know we all love a little drama but I think it's time for a little exposition!" He chuckled, "Let me introduce myself, I am 'The On Air Assassin.'" He smirked swirling on his chair,

"I think so," Grace nodded,

"Now, this is a little anniversary show to celebrate ten years of my beloved inspiration 'The Game Master' he taught me so much, and I miss him every day, to today we celebrate his legacy. In a Game, I'm calling... Revenge Six ways." He laughed,

"No... no no no." I gasped already tears flooding down my face,

Newt wrapped his arms around me even if he too was shaking,

"And what better contestants to have, Than these." He smirked, "Presenting. Officers Grace Wilson and Mike Smith! The very Officer who arrested Austin Ledwik. Franklin James! The Judge who sentenced Austin to his life sentence and his death. Mercedes Prance! The Sweet little stepdaughter who ratted Austin out during his trial. And Finally... Isaac and Y/n Newton! His last Contestants, his only survivors and the reason he was arrested."

I couldn't hold back my tears, clutching Newt tightly so afraid of what this man was going to do to us,

"Shut up her crying I can't hear him!" Franklin yelled,

"Fuck you!" Newt yelled, "You don't know... none of you went through what we did... so shut the fuck up! and let my wife cry!"

"Now, now plenty of time for that," he smirked, "There are three floors, make it through all three and you'll be allowed to leave and you'll even get a prize." He smirked, "Let's show off what you're playing for,"

The camera moved inside this dark grey room, showing an older woman in a long grey dress,

"Martha!" Franklin yelled, "My wife! Bastard has my wife!"

The camera moved again to another area where a small dog sat,

"Tiddles!" Mercedes yelled,

"Who gives a shit about your dog he has my wife!" Franklin yelled,

The camera moved again showing an officer struggling against the restraints,

"Sargent Jacobs..." Grace gasped,

"Shit-" Mike complained running a hand through his hair,

"And our final grand prize, da, da, da, da!"

The camera moved and there they were...

I crawled desperately to the screen,

"No... no no no no! MY BABIES NOOOOO!" I screamed, "Lilly! Alice! Penny!" I cried out, "Please! Don't hurt our girls! PLEASE!"

"Y/n take a breath," Grace tried to console me,

"No... no. Please give them back!" I screamed,

"They will not be harmed, and if you survive they will be returned to you." The man explained, "There is a key somewhere in this room that shall unlock the next. Let the games Begin!"

Grace and Mike dragged me away as the screen turned off,

I cried in hysterics until I saw Newt.

And my blood ran colder than I had ever known it to.

He sat there, his only motion his sharp jagged breaths that caused his shoulders to move, his eyes on the screen squarely, and they darkened. In a way I had never seen, In fifteen years of marriage I had never seen him like this. There was a rage inside him, a rage that no man, or god could stop.

"He... has... my... daughters..." His voice was cold, calm, and full of brimming rage,

"Mr Newton just try to-" Mike tried to calm him,

"HE HAS MY DAUGHTERS!" He screamed his tone animalistic, and then he began to laugh, an intense maddening laughter that filled the room, "Ohh you made two mistakes there, Mr on Air Assassin. You took my daughters. our little girls. And you showed your face... Now we both know... there's not a single chance of you getting out of here alive."

Newt got to his feet and marched to the door.

"He said there was a key to open the door!" Mercedes yelled,

But before anyone could even start looking Newt shoulder thrusted the door and it immediately busted open leading to a stairwell,

"Fuck Keys. I make my own doors." Newt glared at her,

Newt grabbed my hand and we shared a look of understanding, the same one we had shared ten years ago, we both knew we were ready to do anything, and matching him my sadness turned to rage.

We marched down those stairs like we were on military orders, we arrived at a room with a large old pizza oven,

"Revenge is a dish best served Hot some say, now let's see how much heat you can take?" The man smirked,

We didn't even say a word to each other, we searched the room and each spotted something. Newt grabbed a rusty metal pipe and I grabbed an old wooden board.

The others slowly followed but Franklin and Mercedes sheepishly stayed at the back,

Mike and Grace were completely with us, letting us go fueled by rage.

No one even checked the fire or the rules,

Mike kicked down the door and he and Grace headed out into the hallway filled with various doors, they moved through each door kicking them down and checking them,

"Clear." Grace nodded as she kicked down the last door and turned to the stairs,

Newt and I marched down the stairs and found a room with a set of keys inside a block of ice,

"Now... we uhh... we have this test where uhh ... where revenge is a dish best served cold." The man explained,

"You fucking hack!" I yelled, "At least Game Master had ideas beyond Google."

Newt went up and grabbed the ice slamming it down on the floor which broke it open,

"Keys. Get them out." He handed them to Mike,

Mike immediately went and opened the door to set them free from the house, Franklin and Mercedes ran out desperate for their freedom, Grace bolted out to the nearby road where a payphone sat to call for help,

"There's another door," I said as I saw the door leading to the basement,

"Let's get out girls." Newt nodded, breaking the door open with his pipe,

We ran down and immediately saw him.

The man from the Screen, as he desperately fumbled for a gun, holding Lilly in his arm as he cried,

"Stay the fuck away from me!" He yelled, "It wasn't meant to go like this... you were supposed to die!"

"Plans change." Newt growled, "Let her go. And I might let you live."

"How about I shoot her? I shoot all of them! I wanted death, I wanted my show but you had to go and ruin it."

"You took our daughters... did you think we would lay down and die?" I asked,

"Back away," Mike demanded as he followed us down,

"No. This is us. get the others out." Newt told him,

Mike nodded and worked to get the other hostages out,

Newt walked his pipe dragging along the floor as he walked closer without a single fear in his eyes, "Let. Her. Go. Now." He demanded,

"Or what!"

"You are nothing but a shitting imitation. A copycat. Austin was a bastard and I will curse him as he rots in the deepest pit of hell for all he did to me. My wife. And the people we used to call our friends... all of which died at his hands. You are nothing compared to him... Not even worth the foolish games you tried to make. So I will ask you again. Let her go."

"I am not an imiatation!" He screamed,

I heard the gunfire and I screamed, I grabbed Lilly by the arm and pulled her from him checking her over and finding she was okay.

"Ohh my darling," I cooed holding her close,

"Lilly's okay?" Newt asked so I nodded,

"Upstairs now," Mike called as he helped carry Penny,

"Take them," I told him leading Lilly with him as they went upstairs,

"Wha... what the fuck- how did you?" The man asked his gun shaking in his hand, he had shot Newt's leg. His Prosthetic leg.

"That's the mark your predecessor left. And you didn't even have the balls to do what he did." Newt answered, "I hope there is a hell. I really do. Becuase I'm sending you to talk with the man you adore so much. And one day... After I have lived a life with my gorgeous wife, my beautiful children, maybe even some adorable grandkids." he explained as he tossed the gun from his hands and backed him into a corner, "I'm coming for you. Both of you. And trust me You. Will. Pay." He said before hitting him with the pipe hard and fast,

Newt hit, over and over and over until nothing of the man remained by a bloody mess,

Once he slowed I wrapped my arms around him and calmed him down,

"It's okay. It's okay. It's over. It's over." I cooed,

"Let's get out of here," he nodded dropping the pipe as we headed up to meet with the others,

Newt and I sat on the grass holding our girls as tight as we could, When Mike came over sitting beside us,

"You know what happened in there?" Newt asked,

"I do." Mike nodded,

"Am I being arrested?"

"... You saved their lives. All of them." Mike nodded, "He shot himself when he saw his plans went badly."

Newt and I nodded,

So Mike patted Newt's shoulder and returned to Grace,

"You did a good thing Newt," I told him laying my head on his shoulder,

"I don't care." he shook his head, "I'd have killed all of them if I had to. For you girls. You are my world. My Everything. You. Lilly. Alice. Penny. I- I would rather die than be without you. And I mean what I said, there is no man or god that will ever take you girls from me." He said as he gave a kiss to each of our heads, "I love you, Y/n, with all my heart."

"I love you too Newt." I cooed,

"And I love you girls." He smiled,

"We love you too Daddy," Alice and Lilly both smiled giving him a big hug,

"Da-Dada..." Penny giggled,

And all of us gasped,

"Her- her first word."

"Dada." she giggled as Newt took her in his arms,

"Aww my littlest angel," He cooed,

Just as the Police pulled up to the house,

"Come on, let's get you girls safe."

[mogai-headcanons]

genderfluid bluey | aquarigender eridan ampora | genderfluid jade harley genderfluid: penny fitzgerald | nimona | julie joyful

day 5 of my 5-year anniversary event, genderfluid | genderflux | fluidflux | etc.!

dni link

[jmdbjk]

Bangtan Weekly Report...

So a lot happening in here in the last 24 hours. Joon's appointment took everyone by surprise. Seems legit significant and I wondered if this will affect his military service... not in the fact that he would be exempt because of it... not implying that at all. What I'm wondering is after he completes his basic training, would he just go ahead and shift into some kind of position where he is also associated with this particular activity in the military? Stationed at whichever areas are doing this activity and such...

I think for sure it will definitely add to his future opportunities and influence in the public arena. It’s so exciting for him!

Also: Yoongi headed to Japan. I love that shirt, vacation vibes. I hope he was able to rest a little bit and get something to ease his coughing though. I know he keeps saying don't worry, he's not sick, but something is up because you don't hack up a lung like that after walking a few hundred yards for nothing.

Also today: Tae headed to Japan Spain! He looked dressed for an island party. It's been a while since we've seen him wear earrings. Or, I should say an earring since its only one. AND THE HAIR! I'm not a big fan of the frizzy perm but he is squeezing all he can out of his 20s before enlistment with the ash blonde hair moment again!

How does he even see where he's going? How did anyone recognize him? That hat reminds me of a woven straw basket I used to have in my dining room.

TAKE TWO!!! A new OT7 song coming!!! Soooo excited!!! Maybe we'll get a teaser! Produced by Suga and written by RM and Hobi!!!!!

!!!!!!! NEW GROUP MUSIC!!!!!!!

Also today: someone now pointing out that Kookie discreetly moved a small object out of camera view during his garbage disposer repairman live on Feb. 27 ...

How did I not notice him doing that when I watched the live... so now someone is saying it resembles a car key fob... for a Porsche...hmmm, who do we know that drives a Porsche? ... ummm.... I don't know... it could be, or not? It's got a reflective chrome button looking area on it. It's white and car key fob shaped...

Of course, it could also be a vaper or his own car key fob or something else... a tube of lube (Kookie... please put stuff away after you use it, I know its handy there but still... TMI you know?) ... I need more visual info.

Also today: I see people grumbling (outright bitching) about the commercialization of Festa/BTS... commercialization = selling out...

This is my take on all of that (and probably an unpopular opinion, but anyways...):

People are all for their "sold-out" king when a random t-shirt or shoes they are wearing or an insulated mug sells out, but our guys don't see a penny of that.

And now you're saying official BTS merch would be somehow unsavory... a money grab... even though money from the sale of THAT DOES go into their pockets?... please think through what you are saying...

And commercialization in the form of sponsorships is not good? How is it not good?...Sponsorships are great!

Here's the deal... money makes the world go round... so that exact thing is what will help perpetuate the longevity of BTS, those sponsorships will give BTS a shit ton of money in return for licensing/promotion and underwriting big ticket projects.

It keeps BTS alive in the public eye and keeps the income coming in order for them to do first class work and endeavor to promote themselves and give us great events. Fabulous purple fireworks shows are not free. Sponsors help underwrite the cost of that. And because these events are happening will also indirectly help the many small businesses in those areas because of the influx of visitors to these events.

Turning the city purple creates excitement about BTS and reminds locals that BTS are global cultural ambassadors. Army should be hella proud of that.

What other kpop group is getting news coverage for their 10th anniversary? None.

Deep pockets allow BTS to book stadium tours, so the more chance more of us can see them in-person.

The day the money stops flowing will REALLY be the day BTS retires.

If we are who we say we are and intend to support BTS no matter what happens... IF WE ARE IN THIS BANGTAN SHIT FOR LIFE ... and what we are given right now is merch and purple corndogs, then I will buy a keychain or a book or eat purple tteokbokki, or whatever, along with whatever music is released. If you really are against it, then don't buy anything but don't act like what they are doing is disgusting.

Anyway, its been a full day. We are headed into Festa season for the next two weeks and beyond. The timeline seems focused on positive things. Or maybe that's my imagination. I am going to enjoy it while I can.

[theofficersacademy]

Happy August! TOA is now officially five years old. None of the mods had this milestone in mind five years ago, but now that we're here, how about another five years?

Housekeeping

Current Month in TOA: Lone Moon

This month is event month, so there will be no new mission board! But like last year, the June & July Mission Board will be extended to run through the end of August. The Unaffiliated requirement remains in effect for the Unaffiliated & Faculty-specific tasks.

The event will run from August 1st to August 31st. Signups are now closed - stay tuned for more information tomorrow at noon EST!

Our monthly submission limit on the site that hosts our event signups has been reset so everyone is free to take the quiz for fun now.

We will be announcing a second 5th-Year Anniversary activity on August 4th and another on August 8th. This will not require IC participation. Stay tuned for the details.

Please don’t forget to leave feedback on our feedback poll for this month! We do check the responses regularly, so if you have concerns during the event, the feedback poll is an appropriate place to pop in. Alternatively, the mods’ DMs are always open. We're wiping the Wanted List this month so our character wish list will be fresh for the new year.

Speaking of the event, stay tuned for noon EST for more information!

Important Updates

The requirements to master a lord class acquired for participation in an event have been updated. You cannot master the class with the same event that you acquired it, but any official event afterwards (Arena, Ethereal ball, etc.) can count for its mastery

We are changing our event schedule for all subsequent years: there will now only be ONE Arena event per year, not two, and it will be held in November. Originally, the biannual Arena design was implemented to rigorously test the combat manual, which was brand new at the time. Now that the manual is more or less stable, we've decided that two Arena events is no longer necessary. Because we already had an Arena event this year in June though, the next Arena won't take place until November 2025.

TOA runs a lot of events, and it makes it difficult for our members (and the mods) to have a life outside of TOA or reply to regular threads in a timely manner. Many of our members also have great ideas of their own and have expressed interest in running their own mini events during the year, but there just hasn't been a good time for them when TOA has a big event every other month. We hope that removing the second Arena will give everyone some breathing room.

Other

BIRTHDAYS

August Mun Birthdays: Axl (1st), Arden (9th), Penny (19th), Ren (20th), Harrow (25th), Maxie (28th), Kuno (29th)

August Muse Birthdays: Ephraim (1st), Eirika (1st), Natasha (6th), Laslow (7th), Alfred (8th), Patty (10th), Yuri (12th), Ares (14th), Dheginsea (14th), Edward (15th), Kliff (19th), Shiro (22nd)

MUN ANNIVERSARIES

1st year: none

2nd year: Kano (3rd), Havoc (30th)

3rd year: Birdie (4th), Vio (5th), Vivi (6th)

4th year: Soji (7th), Maxie (8th)

5th year: Ree (3rd)

MUSE ANNIVERSARIES

1st year: Naesala (4th), Henry (6th)

2nd year: Linhardt (3rd), Seliph (10th), Camilla (23rd), Lloyd (30th)

3rd year: none

4th year: Marth (7th), Farina (8th)

Muses who have been in the group for a solid year will also be granted an Academy Brooch to put in their inventory. It doesn’t do anything. It just lets others know your character has been around the block. These characters are also granted a new opportunity to change houses if they wish to do so.

- The House Leaders

[putschki1969]

【Penny Candy】 Introducing Snacks I Bought with my Pocket Money

Hello, this is Hikaru. Thank you for watching! This time, I would like to introduce you to the snacks I used to buy at candy stores when I was a child! They might not be what a child would usually pick *laughs* I’ve always been more of a salty person than a sweet person 😋 Do you have any nostalgic candy or candy that you recommend? 🍡 I am always looking for video suggestions so please leave a comment📝

Tweet by Hikaru | Instagram post by Hikaru

Hikaru on FM Toyama's "Anime Dawn"

Hikaru will appear as comment guest on the FM Toyama radio show "Anime Dawn" to talk about her solo activities Date: December 8; Time 20:00~ Official Instagram | Official Twitter

Details on Broadcasting Schedule of “NHK WORLD – JAPAN MUSIC FESTIVAL”

Below is the information on when Yuki Kajiura's part of the “NHK WORLD – JAPAN MUSIC FESTIVAL” program will be aired. The event was filmed back in October and can be viewed in 160 countries and regions around the world on the official website or in the app. Yuki Kajiura performs a special medley, including the main theme of Kimetsu no Yaiba, and (!!!)Magia(!!!) [featuring Hikaru!], the theme song to Puella Magi Madoka Magica, along with SOUKYUU NO FANFARE, the 10th anniversary theme song for Sword Art Online featuring special guests ASCA and ReoNA.

■NHK World JAPAN Part.2=> 2023/11/26 9:10～9:59 (JST) Check the website to see the broadcast slots in your time zone ■NHK G TV 2024/1/3 22:35～24:35

[penny00dreadful]

Before He Cheats

AO3

“Munson Home for the Recently Deceased, you stab ‘em we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds before a light chuckle crackled through the speaker.

“Is that really how you answer the phone?”

Eddie smiled to himself. “Got you to laugh didn’t it?”

“Suppose.”

“Plus, no one calls the landline anymore unless they’re trying to sell something. You trying to sell me something?”

“No. No, I uh… I’m looking for an Eddie Munson?”

“Only an Eddie Munson? Only one? What a terrible fate. Well you’re in luck, my good sir. This is he. What can I do you for?”

The voice on the end of the line gave a light laugh once again but went silent almost immediately after. 

Eddie stared at the wall in his apartment, waiting for something to happen. In the quiet he could hear the guy letting out little nervous breaths before one big inhale.

“I um. I’m sorry to have to tell you like this, I’d prefer to do it face to face but I don’t know where you live and you probably wouldn’t even want me at your house afterwards and I did find you on social media but it’s not something I wanted to do in DM’s, you deserve better than that-”

“Okay, hold on, slow down.” Eddie tried to ignore the panic starting to kick around in his heart. “Is someone dead? Is someone injured?”

“No! No, Jesus, I’m sorry. I told Robin that I’d be terrible at this but I couldn’t just let it go on without saying anything-”

“You haven’t really said anything. You’re just rambling.”

“Right. Sorry. Again, blame Robin. I’m around her too much. But… okay. Do you know Rick Lipton?”

Eddie felt the panic leave him, replaced only by irritation as he sighed through his nose. “What did he do now?”

“He… um. I’m sorry to ask this but are you his partner? Like, romantic partner?”

Eddie scowled. “And if I am?”

There was movement against the line, almost as if the other guy was nodding. 

“Shit.” He muttered before picking back up in volume again. “Listen, I didn’t know. He told me he was single and I only found out because Robin lives in the same building as you and she saw him with you and asked the neighbours and they said you’d been a thing for like two years and you have to believe me if I’d known I wouldn’t have touched him, I don’t fuck around with cheaters-”

“How long?”

Eddie had expected to feel betrayal or sadness, devastation or heartbreak and they were there. 

They were just lost under a tidal wave of anger and indignation. He was even surprised at himself that he didn’t feel more caught off guard. 

Rick had never cheated before (that Eddie was aware of) but he had always had a wandering eye and a few off-colour jokes about 'going to find someone more his speed’. 

They’d never really felt all that funny.

Maybe it was because their relationship had felt dead for the last few months. 

They barely talked, they just existed around each other. The sex had all but dried up as well and whenever they did have it, it was completely impersonal. Get in, get out, move back to separate parts of the apartment if either of them even bothered to stay over. 

More often than not one of them would make a quick exit back to their home.

Eddie had been thinking a breakup was on the horizon for a while. 

But that was no excuse to cheat. 

At least have the fucking decency to end the relationship first before going out and chasing tail. 

“Um, like four or five weeks." The guy on the phone muttered, clearly ashamed. "I’m so sorry Eddie, I swear to god if I knew I would never… I have- I have proof if you need it.”

“If it’s a sex tape I don’t think I want to see it.” Eddie was trying really hard to maintain his calm and not snap through the phone. 

If what the guy was saying was true, then he was an innocent party in this.

Didn’t make it hurt any fucking less though.

Didn’t make him any less pissed.

“If- no it’s not a sex tape.” The voice sounded scandalised. “Fucking hell, do people actually do that?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as though the guy was waiting for Eddie to continue but Eddie just let it hang in the air. He wasn’t ashamed. 

But he was definitely going to have to purge those files now.

“Okay well… It's just a photo. I posted it to my insta a week ago but he was really weird about it being up, which in hindsight makes a lot of sense, so I took it down.” He said, quiet and sad. “I can send it to you if you want.”

Eddie pursed his lips. 

“Please hold.”

He unceremoniously dropped the phone with a clatter, leaving it dangling from the cord, bouncing against the wall and probably blowing the guy’s ear out. 

Maybe in the morning Eddie would feel a little bad about that, but for now it just felt very satisfying. 

He rifled around in his bedsheets for his phone before making his way back to the landline. 

“Still there?”

“Yes. Ow, by the way.”

Eddie just shrugged, well aware the guy couldn’t see him but whatever. He wasn’t in the mood. 

“Send it on.”

Only a moment later his phone pinged with a notification and Eddie opened the photo.

Well. 

Shit. 

There was Rick, in amongst a crowd at some nightclub, plastered to the side of some pretty boy who looked like he had a regular workout routine. 

Ugh.

Eddie couldn’t handle gym bunnies, the amount they could bench or whatever was all they ever talked about. But this must be the guy on the other end of the phone. 

@King.Steve.Of.House.Hair

Rick had King Steve’s earlobe in between his teeth and from the angle of the selfie Eddie could see his hands were wandering.

It looked like some kind of Halloween night, if the teeny tiny little sailor outfit was anything to go by.

God damn.

But even so, Eddie still wanted to be sure that what he was seeing was… well. What he was seeing. 

“Steve, is it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t realise I hadn’t given you my name yet.” Steve let out a nervous laugh, like he was expecting Eddie to jump through the phone and strangle him.

Eddie was fit to strangle someone but Steve wasn’t in his crosshairs.

“Don’t worry about it. Tell me, what does Rick have tattooed on his ass?”

“Uh…” Steve paused. “He doesn’t have a tattoo on his ass? Not that I’ve seen anyway. But I can tell you he does have his taint pierced. For some fucking reason.”

Eddie gave a quiet laugh at that, despite the monumentally fucked up situation and the final cracking piece of his heart breaking away. Rick had that piercing by the time Eddie had met him. He insisted he’d gotten it because it was sexy. Eddie was pretty sure he’d just lost a bet.

Eddie was no stranger to intimate piercings himself. He had his frenum done a while back. 

That one he’d definitely done because it felt sexy.

He looked back down at his phone, idly flipping through Steve’s profile and all of his other photos. 

He probably shouldn’t be thinking about how hot Steve was, how it was juxtaposed with a soft cuteness that almost felt like it didn’t belong to someone with such broad shoulders and defined arms. 

He hated himself for thinking about Steve’s attractiveness. 

It felt wrong.

Even though he was pretty much single now.

Even if Rick didn’t know it yet. 

But fuck him. 

He’d find out.

One way or the other.

And Eddie was nothing if not a drama queen.

But he wouldn’t do anything tonight.

No tonight he would just… hurt.

And smoke.

A lot.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice came through to him. “You okay?”

Eddie swallowed, finding it a little more difficult than he expected it to be and realised he’d just been staring down at his phone in silence. 

The screen had gone black.

“Yeah.” He answered, his voice thick. “I’m fine.”

Steve hummed. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Eddie laughed. It was wet and sniffly and vulnerable and horrible. “What are you gonna do from over the phone far away… wherever you are?”

“I dunno. I could just… talk to you I guess? Help you plot Rick's murder?”

Eddie laughed again, a little brighter this time. "Yeah, that could be good. But if I'm plotting murder I want to be a little more comfortable." He unlocked his phone and hit the follow button on Steve’s account. “This conversation requires lounging, not standing by the landline.”

“Oh-”

“How do you feel about a video call?”

A notification popped up on his phone, letting him know Steve had followed him back.

“A video call is fine.”

“Great.” Eddie paused. He wasn’t even sure how to end this call with the guy his boyfriend of two years had been cheating on him with and who he’d just asked if he wanted to video call so Eddie could smoke his feelings away. 

He just didn’t want to feel alone right now. 

He could have called Chrissy or one of the boys to come hang out with him but that would require explaining everything over again and he really didn’t want to do that right now. 

Before he could think much more on it Eddie said a quick “Okay bye,” and hung up.

Steve knew the story and Steve had been wronged too and maybe they could just be mad and sad together. 

He unlocked his phone again as he walked back into his bedroom and hit the video call button, not even bothering to turn his light on, leaving himself and his room shrouded in darkness. He propped his phone up on his desk, angled towards the window where he sat on the sil and started to roll, using the streetlights streaming in the window to see.

Steve picked up only a moment later and Eddie got his first good look at the guy live in action and not through a photo online.

He was sitting at what looked like a kitchen table fully lit by the overhead lights, a pair of wire framed glasses perched on his nose and his hair messy and dishevelled, like he’d been stressfully running his hands through it, which he probably had been. 

Eddie didn’t know how stressed he would be if he had to make a call to someone to tell them their long term partner had been cheating.

He was leaning forward, elbows on the table in a cosy yellow sweater with a slight worry between his eyebrows. 

He looked so soft. 

Nothing at all like the nautical sea queen look he’d been giving in those photos. He looked comfortable and gentle and a little worried.

“Eddie?”

“Mm-hm?” He hummed, bringing the joint to his mouth and lighting it up before pushing open the window a little more and exhaling out into the dark rainfall outside.

“You okay?”

He shrugged. “I will be.”

“I’m not asking about whether you will be, I‘m asking about now.”

Eddie looked over and watched Steve as Steve watched him through the screen.

“Alright, then no. I’m not okay.” He took another drag. “I’m fucking pissed. I’m sad, I’m upset, I’m hurt, I’m angry, I’m disappointed and I don’t know if all of that is directed more at him for doing this to me or me for not expecting it.”

“How were you supposed to expect it?” Steve shook his head in disbelief. “No one should have to expect to be cheated on.”

“Dunno.” Eddie shrugged, looking back out the window. “Relationship was dying anyway.”

“Okay, and? That doesn’t make cheating okay.”

“Suppose not.”

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. For my part in it.”

Eddie glanced back over, taking in the downward tilt of Steve’s mouth and his big sad eyes.

“S’not your fault. You were wronged too.”

“I guess, but…” Steve bit his lip and looked up from the screen, casting his eyes around his kitchen like something was going to pop out and answer whatever question was running through his head. 

Eddie waited. The guy had been very gracious so far and he seemed to genuinely feel bad for all the mess he’d been wrapped up in. 

“I…” Steve continued. “I know how this thing usually goes. You find out you’ve been cheated on and you still love your partner so you tend to focus all your anger towards the person they cheated with rather than the person who actually wronged you.” He looked down, fiddling with some kind of flash card on the table in front of him.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Eddie stubbed his joint out, happy enough with his current buzz. He was sufficiently mellowed, he hadn’t cried yet though that would probably come once he was in bed, but his anger had simmered down to a level where he didn’t feel like putting his fist through a wall but still angry enough to plot.

“I am, I guess.”

Eddie nodded. “This happened to you before?” 

That was probably rude. His filter malfunctioned at the best of times but when he smoked it was all but gone.

“Yeah.” Steve stared down at the cards in his hands. “My mom had to put up with my dad’s infidelity a lot. And my ex-girlfriend cheated on me a while back.” Steve paused before taking a deep breath. “Rick was actually my first attempt to get back into the dating world so…”

“So we can both be sad and angry together.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled and Eddie stood up, plucking his phone from his desk and settling it on his bedside table, switching his lamp on and throwing himself face down on his bed, probably barely visible to Steve.

“We can be sad and angry together.”

Eddie glanced up. Now that he was closer to his phone, he could better see exactly what Steve was fiddling with, he could read some of the text on the card.

“Stevie.” Eddie sat up, moving closer to the phone and unable to stop the smirk running over his face. Steve’s eyes snapped up towards him. “Did you write out flash cards for when you called me?”

Steve’s eyes widened before he unceremoniously swept all the cards off the table in front of him, his cheeks turning a terrific shade of red and he leaned his face on his hand, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. 

“No.”

It was adorable. Incredibly dorky and adorable.

Eddie laughed, full on braying belly laughs, collapsing backwards onto his bed. When he peeked back up to look at his phone through his giggles, Steve’s face was somehow even redder. 

“Oh my god.” Eddie breathed. “That’s darling.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no. It’s really very sweet.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes but was still smiling, still had a blush lighting up his cheeks.

Eddie settled himself back against his headboard. “Actually, listen, let me ask you something.”

“Okay?”

“Does Rick know? Does he know that you know? Or that you told me?”

“No.” Steve answered, finally relaxing his fake nonchalance into real relaxation, folding his hands on the table and propping his chin up on them. “I figured if anyone had the right to rip his balls off it would be you.”

Eddie nodded. 

That he could understand. 

“I get that, but there’ll be no ball ripping from where I stand. No, I want to hit him where it hurts.”

“Woulda hurt me plenty.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But the only thing Rick loves more than his own balls is his car.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he’s like, obsessed with that thing. It’s weird. It’s not even that nice of a car.”

“I’d love to say he has bad taste but considering he picked the both of us, I’m pretty sure his tastes are actually immaculate.”

“Just his decisions are bad.”

“Exactly.”

“Well.” Steve sighed. “I’d love to help any way I can. I hate that I was involved in this, in what he did to you.”

“To us, Stevie. To us.”

“Right, so what’s the plan then?”

“When are you due to see him next?”

Eddie pulled his van into the parking lot of the bar. It was halfway across town and a place that he never frequented if he could help it. Rick liked it though, always had. Eddie just liked other places around town more.

But it could be cute, he supposed. A small little country and sports type place that had a rainbow flag behind the bar and a small number of regulars who, according to Steve, wouldn’t do anything unless you got between them and their drink. 

He knew that Steve was inside with Rick, playing up the flirty angle and acting tipsier than he actually was to put him at ease.

Steve had mentioned one of his signature moves involved pool, bending over the table and wiggling a little bit to keep the attention on him. Pulling out a little pout whenever he missed a shot or asking for help to line up his cue.

Eddie would be more upset by the fact that he was missing the sight of it if he didn't know he'd have the opportunity to see it himself at some point in the future.

They had talked for so long that first night, long enough that the sun was starting to come up by the time they'd both dragged themselves away from their phones to sleep.

They’d talked about their families, their friends, what they were doing in life right now as opposed to what they had hoped they would be doing when they were teenagers. They talked about their school selves and their dating lives and as the conversation wore on Eddie found himself thinking again and again about how long it had been since it had felt so easy to talk to someone like that.

It had been a very long time since Rick had put any effort into getting to know him as he grew through their two years together, like he expected Eddie to stay the same person as he was at the start of the relationship.

After that first night where they’d figured out their master plan, he and Steve had just… kept talking. Throughout the rest of the week up until tonight, they were in almost constant contact, only really taking a break to sleep and work.

Eddie felt connected to Steve and in some roundabout way he was thankful to Rick for bringing him into his life.

He’d even met Robin in passing one day, living two floors below him, holding the door open for him as he tried to wrestle with grocery bags. 

She was so weird. He kind of loved her the second she opened her mouth. Honest, but with the sharpest tongue he’d ever met on a person. 

She had knocked on his apartment door later that evening to tell him Steve was calling over to visit and asking if he wanted to come around to meet him. 

Steve had apparently delegated the asking to her because he was too nervous to do it himself.

Again, adorable.

Steve was somehow even sweeter and even saltier in person than he was over the phone and Eddie tried hard, he tried really hard not to look too much or let his fucking horomones run away with him but Jesus. H. Christ it was difficult. 

The sweetness of his soft sweaters and polos, his gentle smiles and understanding words matched with his salty mean girl attitude that would slip out every so often and the bitchiest of eye rolls that made Eddie’s heart jump.

Eddie was also trying to feel bad about what was happening but honestly, he was losing reasons to care that much.

He hadn’t texted or called Rick once in the last week and Rick himself had never reached out which all at once made Eddie realise he was the primary communicator in the relationship and it hadn’t been reciprocated in a long, long time. 

Adding onto that was the knowledge that Rick was still fucking cheating on him and was in regular contact with Steve left Eddie only half heartedly feeling bad.

He and Steve would go over the screenshots of the conversation together every night and every night Eddie found it harder and harder to hang up the phone.

He was pretty sure Steve was feeling the same way. 

They kept just catching each other staring. Or smiling or, pulling back from touching too much and he was almost sure that as soon as Rick was out of the picture for the both of them, something was going to blossom.

Even now, with Steve inside, flirting up a storm with Eddie’s ex-boyfriend who didn’t know he was an ex yet, they would be ending the night together. 

Robin was waiting back at her apartment with an alibi ready if Eddie needed it though he suspected he wouldn’t.

Neither he nor Rick had a great track record with the police and it would be more trouble than it was worth to get them involved.

Speaking of, Eddie spotted Rick’s car, some souped up four wheel drive monstrosity of small dick syndrome sitting in the shadows and away from the cameras of the bar where Steve had convinced him to park with a suggestion of something happening in those shadows later on. 

He hopped out of his van and threw open the back doors, grabbing his bag of goodies before sidling around Rick’s car to wait.

When the chords of some Shania Twain number started to leak through the walls, the signal he’d been waiting for, the sound loud enough to drown out what Eddie would be doing, he dropped his bag to the floor.

Curling his keys into his fingers and with almost a skip in his step Eddie began to carve a stripe through the immaculate and expensive paint work. Working his way around to the drivers side, he lifted the key up before bringing it back down.

With a little bit of sickening glee, he hacked the word CHEATER into the side of the car, the side that would be immediately visible from the bar door and the side Rick would have to see every time he wanted to get in and get out of the driver's seat.

At least until he paid a bomb to get it fixed.

Eddie had connections in this town. Working as a mechanic here for years would do wonderful things to extend this pain. 

Rick knew fuck all about cars. 

Tucking his keys back into his pocket, he sidled back around to his duffel bag, unzipping it and pulling out his Stanley blade.

Unsheathing it, he gripped it tight in his hand and punched it down into the nearest tyre, listening with satisfaction as the thing slowly deflated before moving onto the other three.

A second Shania song had started up. 

He could hear Steve crooning out from inside, getting louder and Eddie knew he was running out of time. 

He pulled Steve’s baseball bat from the duffle and gave it a little twirl, the same one he’d seen Steve do when he’d first handed it off and he had tried so hard not to be attracted to it. 

He’d failed miserably. 

Maybe Eddie could deal with a gym bunny if that gym bunny was Steve.

With an almighty swing, he brought the bat down, shattering one of the headlights with an almighty crash that wasn’t quite drowned out by the karaoke inside.

Rearing back Eddie swung again, smashing the other headlight and while the music didn’t cut off, he could clearly hear Steve inside calling out for Rick to “Wait!”

Okay, only a few seconds left.

Pulling the bat back and letting the anger and betrayal and indignation flow through him, he brought the bat down hard into the windshield where it embedded itself, the spider cracks of the tempered glass making the thing practically opaque.

The bat was fucking stuck.

Eddie knew that if he was able to pull hard enough he would be able to release the whole windshield from the car but he didn’t even have the strength in him to budge the bat.

“What the fuck?!”

Eddie slowly released his hands from the bat and turned, looking at Rick standing in the doorway of the bar, his mouth hanging wide open in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Steve was standing just behind him, with one hand over Rick’s chest.

To anyone else it would look like a comforting gesture, maybe. A show of support. 

But Eddie could tell the hand was there to hold Rick back if he decided to lunge. 

Both Steve and Rick dragged their gaze over the flat tyres, the word carved into the side, the bat stuck in the windshield.

“Hey sweetheart.” Eddie called across the distance, feeling comfortable enough to turn his back to pick up his bag, trusting Steve to at least shout if Rick was about to tackle him.

“Eddie,” Rick breathed, still open-mouthed somehow. “What in the god damned hell has gotten into you?!”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and held his hand out.

Steve patted Rick twice on the chest and stepped out from behind him. 

Rick watched him walk away looking even more bewildered than before.

With one hand Steve took Eddie’s and with the other he grabbed the bat, wiggling it a few times before pulling it free. 

They broke apart as they reached Eddie’s van, Steve climbing into the passenger seat and Eddie throwing his bag in the back before starting up the van from his position in the driver's seat.

He leaned over Steve to shout out of the window, “Have a nice life, asshole!”

As the van tore out of the lot, Steve stretched both hands out of the window, two middle fingers extended until Rick, still frozen on the spot, was out of sight.

When he pulled himself back inside, Eddie saw him glance his way, a huge grin on his face.

Eddie had a smile to match, whooping into the night as they sped down the road.

AO3

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

[fort-cozy-mcblanket]

Happy Shamy Anniversary! It's been fourteen years since Sheldon and Amy first met. Can you believe it?

Here's my little fic to honor the event this year. This topic was actually requested by an anonymous ask a number of months ago (and so it has nothing to do with the Young Sheldon finale). I hope whoever sent it is still around to see it finally happen. Sorry it took so long!

Thank you to my beta reader Stark and also to all you lovely readers out there. I hope you enjoy!

This is also available on AO3 and FF.Net if you prefer.

“I hereby call this emergency State of the Relationship meeting to order.”

Amy rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as she settled in on the couch beside her boyfriend, but it was mostly for show. She couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. Normally she never liked these meetings, but this time she knew there was a good reason for it.

She and Sheldon had finally, officially moved in together.

It had been a long road to get to this point, with a lot of bumps along the way, but now finally they were there. Where she had wanted to be for years. And she could safely say it was worth the journey. If Sheldon needed this meeting to settle all the details, Amy was happy to give him that.

Once they had made the decision to make this a permanent arrangement, it wasn't long before the settled on staying in Penny's old apartment. It was a reasonable compromise, one that allowed both of them to move into a new place together without it being an overwhelming change for Sheldon. Amy supposed in some ways it could be considered a downgrade for her—4B was slightly smaller than her old apartment and there was the issue with the elevator—but she hardly thought about that. She was much more focused on being able to come home to the man she loved every night, and having him come home to her too. When she was lying in bed with her boyfriend at the end of the day, happy and secure, she knew that this feeling more than made up for the missing square footage and inconvenient extra steps.

“I trust that you've spoken to the landlord about the lease?” Sheldon asked, introducing the first issue to be addressed at their meeting.

“Penny and I visited his office yesterday. We'll be subletting from her for the rest of this month and I signed paperwork to take over the lease next month.”

Sheldon nodded his approval. “And your old apartment?”

“They're letting me break my lease with no penalties because of the burst pipe. I gave notice that I'll be out by the end of the month.”

“Very good.”

Sheldon proceeded to go over some of the other intricacies with their utilities and other bills, all of which he had carefully organized. She assured him that she registered her car at the landlord office as well and received her tenant parking pass. They discussed which of their belongings would need to go to storage. Everything seemed to be in order and nothing that came up was unexpected, until the very end.

“There's one final order of business,” Sheldon said while reaching out for a small pack of sticky notes on the coffee table. He began writing on the top note.

“What's that?”

“This,” he answered, pulling off the note and passing it over to her, “is my Netflix password.”

“Really?” Amy looked at him in surprise. She knew how serious he took his TV shows and movies, and it never even occurred to her that he might want to share his account. Something about it seemed almost too intimate for him.

“Well, we're members of the same household now. It doesn't make sense for us each to pay for a separate account, so if you have your own please cancel it. The money we save can go towards the Comic-Con fund.”

“No.”

“A life-size Batman statue for the apartment?”

“Try again.”

“Fine, the extra money can towards date nights or some such nonsense.”

“I'd like that,” Amy said, purposely ignoring his jab. She knew he didn't really mean it.

“I'm sure I don't have to tell you how important this is,” Sheldon said, bringing the topic back to the password in her hand. “Once you have it memorized, please swallow it to ensure no one else will gain access.”

Amy looked down at the note, which read 2halF0Forearm1Awry0! in Sheldon's neat script. Then she looked back up at her boyfriend and grinned.

“Well, I'm not going to swallow it, but I can take it to the confidential shredders at work tomorrow morning,” she told him.

“Really? You've memorized it already?”

“Sheldon, it's an anagram of my name, the year we met, and an exclamation point. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?”

Sheldon looked down at the floor, and she saw the tips of his ears turning red, which just made her smile more.

“You weren't supposed to,” he mumbled.

“You've lived with Leonard too long, you're not used to having another genius for a roommate,” she teased him. “Do try to keep up.”

Sheldon stared at her, mouth slightly agape, and she watched his pupils dilate. It sent a small thrill through her body, and she took that as her cue to stand up. If she didn't leave now, she might not be able to stop herself from jumping him.

“I trust that our meeting is over?” she asked as she began retreating towards the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“Yes,” he answered. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away. “And Amy, while I don't mind you knowing about the password, I do mind if you mess up my recommendations, so I'm going to ask that you either create a separate profile or keep your viewing to only science fiction and documentaries. If you find yourself in need of something to watch on Girls' Night, I trust you'll use Penny, Bernadette, or Raj's account for that.”

Amy laughed to herself, not bothering to turn around or answer him as he continued to call after her. She had already pulled out her phone and was signing into his account on the app, already looking forward to browsing the available movies with no regard for what he just said.

This cohabitation thing just kept getting better and better.

[the-al-chemist]

The Smallest Victory

A/N: today was Artemis’ 50th birthday, and to celebrate I decided to publish the story of her 27th birthday, and someone else’s birth. It also fits the theme of @hp-12monthsofmagic: Victory! Hope you enjoy. Warnings: mentions of childbirth and war.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more bored in my life.”

Charlie looked up from the copy of Which Broomstick? that he was currently thumbing through and regarded Artemis from the corner of his eye.

“You could still go out,” he said. “Chiara or Penny might still be free.”

“Penny won’t be able to get a babysitter at this short notice, and Chiara’s working here tonight. She might even be with Fleur,” Artemis exhaled heavily, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “No. I’ll stay here. I should stay here. I just didn’t think there’d be this much waiting, that’s all. Do you reckon it’ll be much longer?”

“I dunno, Artie. I’ve never had a baby before. I don’t know how long it takes.”

“Ages, apparently.”

Artemis let out another huff of air, and slumped against the back of her seat with her arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently. Charlie closed his magazine.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

“Why? You’re not the one having a baby.”

“I know, but this wasn’t how you wanted to spend your birthday.”

That was true. Artemis had intended to spend her birthday at Bill and Fleur Weasley’s cottage in Cornwall, with sand and sea and a crackling bonfire. Unfortunately, her best laid plans had been scuppered earlier that evening by the arrival of a lion-shape Patronus, which had spoken with Bill’s voice and informed her that his wife had gone into labour, and that the pair of them were about to go to the hospital. Both she and Charlie had also gone straight to St Mungo’s hospital, where they had taken seats in the waiting room and waited. And waited. And were still waiting, even now.

“It’s fine, Charlie,” she said. “I mean, I’ve had worse birthdays.”

Another truth, albeit an unpleasant one. The previous two years, her birthday had been overshadowed by the battle that had taken so many lives, including those of her friend Tonks and Bill and Charlie’s younger brother Fred. The battle had broken out in the evening of her twenty-fifth birthday, and her twenty-sixth then became the first anniversary of the event.

This year, though she would turn twenty-seven on the eve of the victory and memorial, the fact seemed to linger less heavily on her mind now that yet another year had passed. Still, at her words, Charlie’s jaw tensed slightly. Artemis shook her head and unfolded her arms, guilty that she had accidentally caused harm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Before Artemis could continue further, the doors of the waiting room swung open, revealing a middle-aged couple, a tall wizard with glasses and a plump witch in a knitted poncho, both with red hair; Bill and Charlie’s parents. Behind them trailed a much younger witch with a face almost as freckled as Charlie’s and her hair - also red - pulled up into a messy bun: their youngest child and Charlie’s only sister, Ginny.

“Oh, you’re here already,” said Charlie’s mother, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement. “Any news?”

“None yet.”

“Oh, well. These things can take time.”

“Don’t we know it,” Artemis muttered. Mrs Weasley turned to her, beaming.

“And happy birthday, Artemis, dear,” she said. She removed her bag from her shoulder and pulled out a box of small triangular sandwiches. “Your present is at home, but I thought there was no point in the party food going to waste. Unless you had dinner before you came here?”

Artemis took the box of sandwiches from Mrs Weasley’s hands and wrenched it open. “No, I’m starving. Thanks.”

“Neither of us had time to eat anything,” Charlie explained, also helping himself to a sandwich. “We both came straight here after Bill sent his Patronus.”

“Really? But that was almost three hours ago!” Mrs Weasley shook her head. “I don’t know why you rushed. The baby was unlikely to arrive before now.”

“But it should come soon now that you’re here, right?”

“Maybe. Could be in the next half an hour-”

“Thank Godric,” said Artemis.

“- or it might be another three hours.”

“What?”

“Or longer, who knows?” Apparently oblivious to the look on Artemis’ face, Mrs Weasley clapped her hands together. “Oh, it’s so exciting, isn’t it? Now, where did they take Bill and Fleur? We should make sure they have eaten something, the food here is terrible, after all.”

Once she had been told where to go, Mrs Weasley and her set off to deliver refeshments - presumably more sandwiches - to their eldest son and his wife. Ginny Weasley remained in the waiting room, flumping herself down in the chair on the other side of Charlie, who had returned his attention to his magazine. Ginny leaned forward to talk across him.

“Do you think she’s done it on purpose?” she asked Artemis, who frowned.

“What? Who?”

“Fleur, obviously,” Ginny shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “I mean the baby wasn’t meant to be here for another two weeks, and now it’s coming on your birthday, when she was supposed to be having everyone over.”

“So, you think she’s having a baby to get out of having people over for dinner?” Artemis asked. Beside her, Charlie gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, still looking determinedly at his open magazine.

“Maybe,” said Ginny. “And it’s just the sort of thing she’d do, isn’t it? Steal your thunder by having a baby on your birthday.”

“No, she wouldn’t… She… I mean, could she?”

Artemis directed her question at Charlie, who did not even lift his head to look at her as he answered:

“I really don’t think that’s how it works.”

Ginny clearly thought otherwise, for she mouthed ‘I bet she did’ at Artemis before leaning back in her seat so that she was out of sight. As Mr and Mrs Weasley returned from seeing Bill and Fleur, Artemis returned to her sandwiches. She was still bored, but now that she was being fed, she at least felt less annoyed.

But, as eight o’clock became nine, and nine became ten, then eleven, both the sandwiches and Artemis’ patience dwindled. Beside her, Charlie had managed to drift off into a slumber, but she was only growing increasingly restless. After her fidgeting reached the point that it had roused Charlie from his sleep, the two of them decided to find some sort of entertainment, and roamed the hospital corridors in search of somewhere where they might do just that.

When they returned to the waiting room, they found it completely and eerily empty, void of any people or noise. The flickering light of a candelabra on the wall was the only movement to be seen.

“Where did everyone go?”

Before Artemis’ question could be answered - or indeed, in answer to her question - Bill appeared from the direction of the wards. His face was pale and tired looking, but his eyes were bright and his smile was broad. He strode straight across the waiting room towards them and pulled each of them into a hug.

“There you are! Where did you go?” He did not even wait for them to reply before continuing, “Never mind, you’re here now. And so is she. The baby.”

“That’s great, mate,” said Charlie, hugging his brother again. “Is Fleur alright? Is she-”

“Fleur’s fine, so is the baby, she’s… She’s perfect. Come and see.”

Bill beckoned them through to the wards, where the entire Weasley family, Fleur’s parents and sister, and Artemis’ Healer friend Chiara were gathered around a hospital bed. Lying in the bed was an exhausted looking but still irritatingly beautiful Fleur, a small bundle of cloth in her arms. Bill sat on the bed and took the bundle from her, and everyone leaned in to see the pink, wrinkly, and slightly crusty baby inside.

“We haven’t decided on a name yet,” Bill said, his voice gentler than Artemis had ever heard it before. “We thought we still had a couple of weeks left to make up our minds, but this little one had other ideas.” He looked up at Artemis. “Sorry about your birthday.”

“If it’s any consolation, I enjoyed it less than you did,” muttered Fleur wryly, a comment that was met with a few quiet chuckles.

“And what better gift is there than the gift of life?”

“I dunno, Molly,” Artemis shrugged at Bill’s mother. “I asked for a new camera.”

There was another round of soft chuckles, but Bill merely shook his head.

“Well, you’ll have to make do with a goddaughter instead,” he told Artemis, whose jaw dropped open.

“Goddaughter? Really?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Bill shared a glance with his wife. “Why not?”

Artemis turned to Charlie. “You owe me a Sickle.”

“No, he doesn’t. You’re both godparents.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind sharing,” said Artemis, as much to Charlie as to their goddaughter’s parents. “I’m going to have to get used to sharing my birthday anyway.”

“Actually,” Chiara looked up from the clipboard she held in her hands, “she was born just after midnight, so her birthday is the second of May, not the first.”

The clock on the wall confirmed Chiara’s words. It was past midnight. It was exactly two years after the battle that had ended the war. The entire family was still, silent, and solemn.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think it’s rather lovely,” Chiara said softly. “The idea that this day will be one of happiness in the future, rather than one filled with bad memories. It’s a small victory, but…”

“It is a victory, just the same.” Bill’s father nodded slowly. “Perhaps you should name her something to reflect that?”

“You could call her Joy!”

“That’s so old-fashioned, Mum,” said Ginny, with a noise of derision. “How about Hope?”

“Or Victoria?”

“Well,” Bill looked from his wife to his in-laws and back, “we were hoping for something French…”

“Victoire.”

“Sorry?”

“Victoire,” Fleur repeated. “It is the French for Victoria. It means victory.”

“It’s pretty,” her husband said. He looked down at the baby in his arms. “It suits her, don’t you think?”

“I do, yes.”

“Then that’s settled,” said Mr Weasley. He pointed his wand at a carton of pumpkin juice on the nightstand, which turned into a large bottle of champagne. Chiara frowned.

“Um, you can’t actually drink alcohol in here,” she said, but her voice tailed off as Mr Weasley continued to conjure fluted glasses from thin air. She sighed. “Oh, never mind.”

Once the glasses had been distributed, Mr Weasley raised his in a toast.

“To our own very small victory.”

“To the smallest of victories,” his son George chipped in, smiling at his tiny niece. Mr Weasley inclined his head.

“To Victoire.”

One by one, the others raised their glasses.

“To Victoire.”

[pennybloodfanficweek]

What is Penny Blood?

It has come to my attention that perhaps throwing a fanfic challenge out there for a very new IP without any sort of context on the IP itself was not a good idea. Well, I'm here to fix that now! So, what is Penny Blood, you ask? Penny Blood is a dark/horror JRPG IP created by the team behind the Shadow Hearts series, more dark/horror JRPGs that released on the PS2 between 2002 and 2006, themselves having spawned from a survival horror/JRPG hybrid know as Koudelka, released on PS1 in 1999.

Penny Blood itself is a spiritual successor to the Shadow Hearts series, and was successfully Kickstarted in August and September of 2022 alongside a Wild ARMs spiritual successor, Armed Fantasia. (The week of the event actually starts on the anniversary of the Kickstarter's opening!) Since then, updates have been rolling out, giving backers and anyone else interested a look into the characters, world, monsters, and mechanics planned for the game. As of 2024, Yukikaze Ltd. and Studio Wildrose have been having trouble securing a publisher for Penny Blood, but are working to find one, as well as creating for other Penny Blood projects.

In December of 2023, Penny Blood: Hellbound was announced and a close beta phase was opened to Penny Blood backers. Penny Blood: Hellbound is an action roguelike set in the same universe as Penny Blood, with the main game's villains, the Hellhounders, as playable characters. As of March 2023, the game has been released on Steam Early Access, with a full release planned for the Summer (Northern Hemisphere) of 2024.

Relevant Links and information: - Armed Fantasia & Penny Blood Kickstarter (The Kiscstarter can no longer be backed, but updates are still being posted monthly for both games.) - Penny Blood Official Website (Contains information on the game and dev team, trailers, archived Kickstarter updates, and press kit.) - Penny Blood on Youtube (Trailers, interviews with the creators, Creators' Radio, and Hellbound trailers) - Penny Blood: Hellbound on Steam - Penny Blood Wikia (Run and updated by the same lovely people as the Shadow Hearts Wikia!)

[hotchs-bitch]

Fluffy Feb Day 25- Gift

Warnings: established relationship, some lying & insecurity, this is a little angsty and I'm sorry it's just because men are stupid, thoughts of infidelity (not like that, calm down), wedding vows, reassurance

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1915

A/N: Bonus points if you can figure out what Taylor Swift song I was listening to when I wrote this

On the day of your fourth anniversary with Aaron, you wake up excited. You can hardly believe that it’s been four years since you married the perfect man; four years that you’ve taken on life together.

You’re in the mood to celebrate- maybe make him breakfast, or go out to dinner and a movie tonight after you exchange gifts- but the universe has other plans. “Good morning, honey!” Aaron calls out when he hears the bedroom door open. 

It sounds like he’s moving around the kitchen- maybe he’s beat you to the breakfast idea- and you’re just starting to open your mouth, the ‘Ha-‘ of ‘Happy anniversary’ on its way out when he says, “I’ve got to get going. I’ve got an early meeting with Strauss. Have a good day, okay?”

On the day of your fourth anniversary, your husband gives you a kiss on the cheek and hardly a second glance before he’s out the door. Great. Your excitement has mostly deflated now, and you busy yourself with getting ready for work. At least you can still go out to dinner and celebrate then, right?

You’re mostly excited to exchange gifts. You’ve managed to find an antique coin collection- one of Aaron’s favourites from his childhood (he’s complained more than once about how if he had just found one last penny he would have had the whole set)- and his favourite Scotch. His gifts always blow yours out of the water, though. He’s thoughtful and observant, a lethal combination.

Your excitement for dinner and gifts wanes down to nothing when he texts you that afternoon.

Aaron: I need to stay late and figure out these budget cuts. Not sure when I’ll be home, don’t wait up.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond. Has he forgotten your anniversary completely? It’s so unlike him, but so is this behaviour. He always tries to be around during special events. Finally, you text back after re-reading your text three times to make sure it won’t come across as annoyed.

Me: Okay. I love you

Aaron: I love you too. Don’t forget to eat.

And you don’t hear from him again that day. 

The next day, you wake up early. Aaron is snoring in bed next to you, his alarm not set to go off for nearly an hour. You’re sleepy, but you’ve officially got the jump on some late anniversary celebrations. As quietly as possible, you creep into the kitchen and start to prepare breakfast wraps for the two of you.

The eggs are sizzling in the pan when Aaron emerges from the bedroom, wearing a suit and a face full of guilt. “It smells great in here, honey.” He pulls you in for a quick kiss, and when he pulls away he still looks guilty.

Finally, he’s figured out that he missed your anniversary. Or so you think. “I’m really sorry to do this- breakfast looks delicious,” he murmurs, and there’s a familiar twist in your gut when you realize what he’s about to say. “I’ve got to get to work right away. This budget issue, it’s just impossible to get ahead of.”

“Oh.” The lump in your throat feels tangible, makes it hard to breathe, so you inhale deeply and avert your gaze. “You should get going.”

“Thanks for thinking of me, though.” He presses a quick kiss to your temple as he fills up a coffee traveller. “I’ll cook for us this weekend, or something.”

The door closes behind him, and it’s like a nail in the coffin. He forgot.

That day, he sends a similar text to the one from last night. He’ll be home late, he’s so sorry, and it’s so predictable that you don’t text back. Instead, you call Emily that night to complain about how her job is costing you your husband’s presence. 

“He’s been too busy trying to figure out this stupid budget that he forgot about our anniversary! I mean, what does that say for us? Or our future kid’s birthdays?” You complain.

Emily whistles under her breath. “Another budget issue already? Him and Strauss just finalized this year’s financial restrictions last week,” she comments. It’s so casual that she obviously doesn’t realize what she’s implying until she hears your sharp intake of breath.

You don’t know how to feel now; either the BAU is so screwed that Aaron will be in budget meetings for the rest of his life, or he’s lying to you. “What if he’s cheating on me?” You blurt out.

“Hey. Hey, keep your head on straight. He thinks you hung the sun,” Emily reminds you firmly. “Hotch doesn’t have an unfaithful bone in his body.”

It’s too much, too overwhelming; you’re too far gone to listen to her, and that’s when you hear a key turn in the door down the hallway. “I need to go,” you mumble, and then you hang up on your friend even as she tries to protest. You can apologize later.

By the time Aaron turns the corner into the living room, your eyes have blurred with tears. They make it so that you can’t see the broad smile on his face, or the parcel tucked into his arm that he sets aside with his briefcase. 

Or the smile being wiped away as soon as he sees your face. “Sweetheart? Honey, what’s wrong?” He asks.

“Are you cheating on me?” You demand more than ask, and he visibly blanches.

To say that Aaron looks blown away by your accusation is an understatement. He looks hurt, and shocked, and concerned. Concern is what radiates off of him when he rushes over to you, gathering you in his arms even when you make a half-assed attempt to push him off.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, and you jerk your head away to avoid making eye contact. A tear spills over at the motion, and he wipes it away with a hand that gently guides you to look at him. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“You didn’t even answer the question!” You’ve got no idea where this is coming from. There’s never been a single indication of Aaron cheating, even with the long hours and time away from home. You’re spiraling now, and he’s the only person who can help when you get like this, but it’s all his fault.

“No,” he says firmly, his tone erasing any trace of doubt in the air. “I’m not cheating on you. I don’t… What's going on? Why would you think that? I wouldn’t- I could never…”

“Emily told me the budget thing was resolved a week ago.” As though you can save a shred of dignity, you wipe furiously at your cheeks to erase any evidence of tears. “You lied to me. I’ve barely seen you this week, and you forgot our anniversary, and- And you lied!”

This is the big point, and you both know it. Aaron has never lied to you, and you’ve always been honest with him. If he’s lying now, staying away from home when he doesn’t need to, what changed?

When you meet his eyes again, he looks upset like you’ve never seen him. The weight of your accusation has rattled him, you can tell. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” he whispers, holding you a little closer. “I would never cheat on you. I’m crazy about you, come on.”

The reassurance helps a little, one side of your mouth lifting before it drops just as quickly. “You lied to me.”

“I know I did. I felt terrible about it, you have to believe me.” He lets you go, then goes to retrieve the parcel you’ve hardly noticed until now. “It’s- Your anniversary gift came late. And I didn’t want you to think I didn’t get you anything, because you always give me the perfect gifts.”

Your eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of what he’s telling you now. “You forgot our anniversary.” Whether you’re reminding him or yourself, you aren’t sure.

“I would never forget it,” he vows, walking back to the couch with the brown paper package in one hand. “I was just… I don’t know. I was an idiot. I thought that if you thought I was busy with work, we could push back on celebrating until it arrived, and you wouldn’t know.”

“I wouldn’t know? You didn’t even acknowledge it yesterday!” Your voice raises, and Aaron pushes the package into your hands.

He sighs at that, a self-decreprating sound that hurts you as much as it hurts him. “I messed up. I know I did. I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t care, or didn’t get you something, and it backfired. I’m so sorry, honey.” The remorse on his face is real, written into every line and shining in his eyes. “I’ll never lie to you again, I promise. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

As though your hands have a mind of their own, you open the paper packaging without responding to him. “What is this?” 

“Pull it out,” he encourages, and the picture frame inside the packaging slides out into your hands when he pulls the paper.

“Oh…” You breathe out, taking in the image in the oak frame that matches the rest of your furniture. “This is…”

Words fail you; None can describe the gift. It’s a framed picture of you and Aaron on your wedding day, his arms around you while you both beam at the camera. The picture is cropped within the frame, and the words surrounding it look familiar.

“They’re our vows.” He breaks the silence tentatively. “I know I made a mistake. I never want you to think that I could so much as look at someone else. You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

Now, the tears blurring your vision are from some twist of happiness and relief. The vows have been tucked away since the wedding, out of sight, even though the promises you’ve made to love and support one another unconditionally have been realized every day.

It’s in writing, and when you look closely you realize that it’s in Aaron’s writing. He’s handwritten the vows for this, copied them all down. Every promise to love each other through the good and the bad, every pledge to be faithful in sickness and health and when work and life gets in the way, every assurance that you love each other more than you could ever bear to love anyone else; he wrote them all down, copied them out, because they’re still true. Truer than ever, maybe.

You cover Aaron’s hand with your own as he speaks again. “I am… devoted to you. I would worship the ground you walk on, if you would let me. And I vow to never lie to you again.”

When you turn your head and capture his lips in a kiss, you’re reminded of your wedding day. The spirit behind each promise you had made, and the love in your heart that’s only ever grown and flourished in the last four years.

“I love you,” you whisper, and it doesn’t feel like enough, but neither did the original vows when you said them. There are no words, nothing in any language you could learn that could begin to explain what he means to you.

The words that you’ve got in front of you will have to do.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his. “Happy anniversary, my love.”

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Fluffy Feb tags: @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb @iammirrorball @hausofwhores @allthefandomstogether @myweepingangel @hotched @spacecowboyhotch @chibsytelford @honeybrowne @formulapierre @nd264 @hotchnerxnegan1017 (send me a dm or ask to be tagged!)

[kerkosims]

Meet Bo Keiser and Ellyn Rosewell. Ellyn is a San Myshuno native, who grew up in a humble two-bedroom apartment with her single mother and a nonexistent father. She was an only child and dreamed of having a career in the arts. She freelanced while she went to university, however, realizing it was too expensive she returned home and began her career as a painter. Currently, she sells her paintings online to make ends meet while building her reputation in the arts field. Bo Keiser, a Tomarang native who dreamed of making it big in the city as a performer, soon realized he did not have what it takes. He became roommates with other struggling artists and living in the city became affordable, and fun. He is just trying to figure out his life and does not have a specific plan in life. The pair met at the romance festival, Bo as usual was at the karaoke bar nearby and Ellyn was dragged by her best friend Penny Pizzazz. They made a new year resolution to build their careers more by being seen in public, meeting newcomers, and hopefully, love will come around. It so happened that Ellyn and Bo met, and their love story blossomed. It was love at first sight, the pair became inseparable and soon were spotted together at every social event. Would they make it or would this romance fizzle out just like Ellyn’s previous relationships? A year later, the pair went to the romance festival to celebrate their one-year anniversary, they had no idea what would come next. Next.