An image loaded in the chat—a wedding invitation. Elegant cursive letters spelled out an invitation.
United in love, Vincent and Malakai request your presence at their wedding Friday, August 3rd, at 5 o’clock in the evening at xxx Hotel, xxx Island, Fiji. Dinner and dancing to follow.
The chat exploded with conversation.
TeenDad2: OMG OGM OMG
TeenDad2: *OMG
KnotMyProblem: Well, I’ll be damned. xV, you are the hero us Single Dads need. A triple x hotel on a triple x island? Sign me thefuckup. Pants are optional, right?
xVerity: @KnotMyProblem, unfortunately, there won’t be any triple x hotels involved. Mal and I are using xxx as a placeholder until we figure out the details.
Gwynning: This August, xV? That might be too tight for me…
LoveHarley: No matter what year it is, I’ll be there. Evie’s schedule is going to complicate things, but I’ll work around it 100%
xVerity: Next year. It would be too tight for us, too.
TeenDad2: Um, do you think you guys’ll have enough time off to attend two weddings? I mean, I’m going to Fiji for xV and Mal, no questions asked, but Aaron and I were kinda talking September of that year, maybe. It’d be on a weekend.
KnotMyProblem: I can swing labor day as long as it’s somewhere in the States. I won’t be able to head back to Fiji a month after I leave
TeenDad2: It’ll be in Aurora! We’re, um, well, we were talking about having another baby, so we wanted to have something close to home in case we get pregnant a little too fast, but we’ll hold off now that there are Fiji plans in the works!
KnotMyProblem: TD, your latest baby isn’t even a year old yet
TeenDad2: And??
TeenDad2: We’re just talking about it
TeenDad2: And practicing haha
KnotMyProblem: Omg, this is as bad as the…
KnotMyProblem: I’m not even going to say it.
Gwynning: What?
Gwynning …Do you mean…
KnotMyProblem: Don’t say it, Gwynn. Don’t you fucking say it.
Gwynning: …Placenta?
The placenta-bot, loyal to Gwynn’s wishes, populated an image of a placenta in the chat. This one featured a long stretch of umbilical cord that was coiled around itself, stark white against the dark red organ. Harlow wrinkled his nose. While he wasn’t as averse to placentas as Knot seemed to be, it was kind of gross.
KnotMyProblem: You thought your wedding was bad, Gwynn? You thought a glitterbomb was where it ended?
KnotMyProblem: No. Not even close. You and me. Fiji. The biggest glitter war that has ever been waged. You will find pieces of my fabulous superiority in unsuspecting places all over your body, your clothes, and your living space for decades to come. It will be the little things… things you take for granted now. You’ll be eating soup on cold winter morning and notice it glistening in the dip of your filled spoon. Or maybe it’s summer, and you strip down to hop in the pool when, oops!, when did you become a fucking vampire, glittering in the sun like a goddamn disco ball? And all of it, all of it, will be because of the absolute annihilation you will suffer the next time we see each other face to face.
Gwynning: I’m sorry that placentas upset you so much, Knot. I promise, in the future, I’ll be more careful about using the word placenta in the chat.
Two images loaded in rapid succession, each of a new placenta. How many images had Gwynn loaded into the bot’s queue? So far, none of the images were repeats.
Harlow grinned. This was going to be good.
KnotMyProblem: I declare that an act of WAR. Bring it, bitch. I’m ready.
