• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Realistic or Modern #𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆𝗠𝗲 // Dystopian AI Matchmaking IC

Characters
Here
Other
Here
"Woah. Vida?"

Did Carlos know the girl? From the tone of his voice, Hank could make three guesses how. Curiosity edged into the glance he threw at his new husband.

From the way Carlos had looked at him, the warm touch to his face and the gaze that lingered on his lips, he knew the ceremony kiss to his cheek had been a compromise. For his sake. The idea of… intimacy with a man not one he was ready to tackle. A pickle of nerves in his gut at the thought. But it was shallow to assume Carlos' only interest was the same sex.

Vida was undeniably pretty, fine blonde hair falling past her shoulders to graze an elegantly minimalist dress that fit her slight figure like a glove. Something demure in her tenure despite the splay of tattoos inked across her arms and the way she threw back a shot, passed to her by a man in a branded suit.

The two looked attractive, side by side. But the match didn’t sit like it were made in heaven. What had affinity seen that he didn’t? What had it seen when it paired him with Carlos… The agenda behind their marriage so far above his pay grade it wasn't a joke.

“Hank Pierce.” He offered the girl, Vida, his hand. Likewise for her husband. “Pleasure to meet you.” Paused with a critical eye on Stephen. Something about him, his name and his face, rang bells. Distracted when a wait person passed carrying a tray of water.

Hank scooped one from the platter, Carlos' hand grasped lightly to fold the cool glass into his grip. Hank's question, blunt. "Did you use protection?" Nothing out of place to ask in the hospital, but at his wedding reception? Christ, Pierce. There was a reason he became surgeon and not a psychologist.

Pierce
Hank


"Woah. Vida?"

Did Carlos know the girl? From the tone of his voice, Hank could make three guesses how. Curiosity edged into the glance he threw at his new husband.

From the way Carlos had looked at him, the warm touch to his face and the gaze that lingered on his lips, he knew the ceremony kiss to his cheek had been a compromise. For his sake. The idea of… intimacy with a man not one he was ready to tackle. A pickle of nerves in his gut at the thought. But it was shallow to assume Carlos' only interest was the same sex.

Vida was undeniably pretty, fine blonde hair falling past her shoulders to graze an elegantly minimalist dress that fit her slight figure like a glove. Something demure in her tenure despite the splay of tattoos inked across her arms and the way she threw back a shot, passed to her by a man in a branded suit.

The two looked attractive, side by side. But the match didn’t sit like it were made in heaven. What had affinity seen that he didn’t? What had it seen when it paired him with Carlos… The agenda behind their marriage so far above his pay grade it wasn't a joke.

“Hank Pierce.” He offered the girl, Vida, his hand. Likewise for her husband. “Pleasure to meet you.” Paused with a critical eye on Stephen. Something about him, his name and his face, rang bells. Distracted when a wait person passed carrying a tray of water.

Hank scooped one from the platter, Carlos' hand grasped lightly to fold the cool glass into his grip. Hank's question, blunt. "Did you use protection?" Nothing out of place to ask in the hospital, but at his wedding reception? Christ, Pierce. There was a reason he became surgeon and not a psychologist.

coded by reveriee.
 
Last edited:
Tara noticed Anya almost went to the aid of the now lonely woman that she noticed her with when she walked in. The two seemed to have some connect and she couldn't help but wonder if that would be a problem.

Though she saw Anya turned on her heels when Tara expressed concerned by the man who was dumped by the meathead. However when the other didnt respond to either of them seeming fixated on something that didnt exsist. Was he on something? Or had this whole process mentally broke him down? She didn't know.

"Um...." she looked to Anya not a hundred percent sure what to do. "Maybe we should sit him down." She decided carefully guiding Vivian to the nearest seat offering a water. She may be a rebel but she did care about others at the end of the day. Once she got Vivian set up she looked to Anya "I'm not quiet sure what to do...maybe get his um match back over to him?" She asked not really caring to talk to the tattooed muscle man but she would if she had to.
 
Screenshot_20221025_090218_com.android.gallery3d.png


Chad Burton

The plate with cake and utensil clinked when casually placed before Sona. Chad relaxed back in his seat, watching Vivian with an amused expression. "Mine too." Physically Vivian was there but mentally not really. Would it be the same during sex? His spouse zoning out like that? Nahh, no way. Not when Barlow was behind the wheel.

The guy folded his arms back and entwined his fingers behind his neck. Staring at the other marriers he introduced himself as "That crazy dud." Then he looked over with a wry grin. "Check my insta and our YouTube channel." Refocusing on Vivian he added. "We do all the wild shit average folk can only try in the VR."

He chuckled at the question. "Naaaw, I don't know the guy. But 's fine. He won't bother me much. And he plays hard to get so that's fun." His lips curled into a wolfish smirk.

Then he abruptly looked over, lowering his arms. "Wanna get out of here? See how far we can get before the guards stop us?" He asked with the excitement of a naughty kid sparking in his bright eyes.


 

Cake? The lines across his brow eased. Way t' make a fool of yourself, Connor. What was it about this man he just quite couldn't put a pin on? Even his smile were layered, that spark in hazel eyes bright one moment, screened away the next.

"Naw." Connor shook his head. The Marry Me profile hadn't said shit about his career. He'd spent long enough on it to know. Had Vix been doing his homework, or was it just a picture that spoke a thousand words? "But you ain't wrong. Marine Corps." He let his wrist be lifted by deft hands. Curious. What was he looking for? His fingers loosely curled, the cuff of his shirt rising with the movement to reveal the web of veins under sun-tan skin and faint, white dot that was his haptic scar. "At least I was, but-"

Snapped heels and a hesitant greeting were an unwanted interruption. The shadow of Connor's smile dropped so fast, dark stare swung to the suited woman in the corridor. A swank suit and ink, near as tall as him in those heels with city girl swagger. He had to swallow the heated flare of irritation. The first chance he got for moment of genuine connection with Vix, and it were walked all over. But the truth weren’t for her to know. Annoyance suppressed in a short breath. "Get out while ya still can." A weak joke, with a weak smile. "I aint recommend the cake."

"Hey!" A sharp voice cut down the corridor. A guard, dressed in black and blue uniform, sauntered towards them. The tread of steel capped boots deadened by thick rubber soles. He turned a bat in hand, the look on his face ain”t nothing for Con to like. Trouble.

"You're supposed to be in the ballroom." The guard hooked a thumb into a heavy utility belt. Dull gleam of a service pistol holstered at his hip. Connor met his gaze, jaw tight, only for the man’s eyes to slide from him, to the woman. His whistle, low. "Sweetheart! Sure you wanna go through with it?" Then to Vix. "An' you." Derided. A smirk stitched into one cheek. ”What poor bird they pair you with?” The bat extended, metal pole jabbed sharply into Vix’ ribs.

"That would be me." Connor grabbed the end of the bat, his arm slipped around Vix's shoulders to draw him from harm's reach. And into his side. His stare on the guard a stonewall. What a coward. Ain't got no power in the real world, so tried to feed his limp ego by walkin' all over the little people. "Kindly. Don't do that again."

"Let it go." Yanked, the guard tried to rip the bat free. Con's tight grip unshaken. He could take it from 'em. Like candy from a baby. Ain't nobody gonna like the things he could do with it. A stalemate when two more guards rapidly approached. "The hell's goin on here!?"
 
Anya intuitively reached out to hold Tara’s champagne glass as she began to guide the man over to an empty table, feeling grateful towards her partner for taking the lead. They were all out of their depth in that room, every single one of them, and yet Tara seemed to be the one to most easily take it in her stride; feeling the fear, yet doing it anyway. It was a very attractive quality to have.

Sliding into the chair opposite Vivian, Anya furtively glanced over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Sona. What she saw made her heart sink: the tattooed man leant back in his chair, head casually resting in his hands and a cocky grin spread across his lips. His arrogance, his easy overconfidence, made her want to hurl. Knowing there was nothing for it, however, made Anya refocus on the pair in front of her.

“I won’t lie, I don’t like the look of his match,” She replied softly, voice barely above a whisper. “He seems…slimy. And clearly neither of them want to be around each other, otherwise he wouldn’t have abandoned him, and he wouldn’t seem so out of it. But he’s also not our responsibility.” Anya was back to fidgeting with the sleeves of her dress, long fingernails picking at the delicate fabric and waiting for it to unravel. She wanted time alone to get to know her partner, her future spouse - but she wasn’t about to deliver this guy back into the jaws of a lion, not when he’d just escaped.
 
Haru’s eyes dart between the two men, all too late realising that she had interrupted at a sensitive time. The intensity of Connor’s initial glare combined with Vix’s complete and total disinterest was the verbal equivalent of being roasted in a scorching fire, then suddenly submerged into a pitcher of ice. A shudder rippled through her, gooseflesh licking at her arms, but her lips spread into a cheeky smile nevertheless.

“Definitely late. I’ve never been early for anything in my life,” Her eyes switched from Vix to Connor, and she chuckled. “Why? You mean we’re not all chock-full of glee to be here?” The sound of echoing footsteps brought Haru’s sarcasm to a halt, and she whirled in time to see the guard pause before them, hips thrust forward and a dangerous look in his eye.

“No, I’m not sure - but what I am certain of is that I am most definitely not your sweetheart. Or anyone’s, for that matter.” Her smile was sickeningly sweet, a cocktail of sugar and spice and all things nice that was guaranteed to bring you regret. She rested her hand on the middle of the baton, eyelashes fluttering.

“I think this has all just been a big misunderstanding. I was late, you see, and these two gentlemen were on their way back from the bathrooms and were offering to escort me to the reception. It’s just so easy to get all turned around in here, you know?” You small-dicked prick. This was a performance Haru had put on a thousand times, a mask that was more of a second skin than a mere prop; life was too short and far too full to let altercations with jumped-up idiots get in her way. She raised a hand in greeting to the two additional guards coming to join them.

“Just a small misunderstanding! We’re on our way back to the reception. Aren’t we, boys?”
 
The confusion on Connor’s face as soon as the military was mentioned shone clear as day. Before the larger man clarified he was indeed marine corps, Vix wondered if he had misinterpreted the uniformed photo on the other’s profile. There were probably a few other professions that donned the camo greens… “Marine corps… I had figured you were a soldier. Either that or you were a s-“ Woah! That was a close one. Calling the suspected spy a spy was beyond moronic. What other S word could he use instead?

“Strip-a-gram.” Vix said plainly, dark mischief glinting in his eyes, before reining in the twinkle just as quickly. “I mean, not that I would know. Just, some friends from college, they ordered one as a joke for the…” It was lucky that they were interrupted, before Vix could talk himself deeper into a hole.

They’d only just met, so any concealed annoyance in Connor’s voice was lost on his husband. After having seen the telltale white haptic mark on the man’s wrist, though, he couldn’t help but try to parse Connor’s words for slurs or odd consonant pronunciation. It was all conjecture of course- Vix was a chemist without his license, and for all he knew, their military didn’t even use the same stimulants and synthetics that populated just about every horticultural lab he’d worked in.

Well, whatever his husband had been injected with, Vixtor could only hope that the trials were run properly.

The conversation between his new husband and the latecomer might as well have been miles away. It was so much easier to get caught up in his own thoughts than to listen too closely to the woman’s words and attitude. Not that there was anything wrong with her! It was only that her self-described habitual lateness and biting sarcasm caused his chest to ache a bit. He didn’t even know her name but she reminded him so much of the man he used to be.

Fighting the urge to smirk at Connor’s cake quip, didn’t have time to add a snark of his own before a booming voice cut through the hallway. His neutral gaze quickly tensed at the scowling guard barreling towards them. Withdrawing more into himself, the volunteer said nothing as Haru was openly ogled, merely following the guard’s lecherous gaze with his own bit of longing. Not so much for her, but… damn. There was no doubt she had her own problems- they were all summoned to marry strangers, first of all- but when you had that kind of devil-may-care confidence, even proponents of their police state had to stop and stare.

Life used to be good. Fuck, it used to be great!

As the metal baton was jabbed into his rib, Vix stumbled back some, eyes to the linoleum tile. So this was his life now. Even on his wedding day, Vix had to be reminded that he’d lost everything. This other person waltzes up late and is still seen as something to desire, to cater to, and he gets treated with all the care and tenderness of a piece of gum stuck to an old shoe. For years he’d been a good little drone, hadn’t he? It would be ridiculous to blow it all over jealousy. Over pride. A low growl started to form in his throat, cheeks hot. Even as every muscle in his body prepared for danger, though, Vix let out a soft, surprised sound as Connor wrapped his arm around to pull him close.

Well, this was… different. There wasn’t much time to think about the fluttering in his stomach or the rage that was slowly boiling over towards the guards. Instead, Vix was paralyzed as he watched both Connor and the newcomer bravely put their hands on a guard’s weapon. Wasn’t that an infraction of some kind? Didn’t anyone else read the MarryMe terms and conditions? Maybe it was his willingness to live under the boot that had made him such easy prey for the guards. Maybe that’s way Connor saw him as a burden he’d have to protect, why even the late newcomer was taking more agency in the situation than he was.

Then she prompted him to speak, just as the two reinforcements walked up, batons at the ready. If there was any time for him to prove he had any self respect left, now would be the time to do so. Come on, a voice rang in his head, tell them they can shove it up their shiny metal asses. Or even just spit, threaten to escalate, something!!

“Yeah, we didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Vix intoned, not picking up his gaze from the floor. “My husband and I are headed back to the reception now. Don’t wanna miss out on that cake.” Even through his own failure to stand up for himself, Vix silently reached his own arm around Connor’s waist, squeezing slightly, as if for reassurance.
 
CARLOS WESSON
Wesson seemed to miss the tone that carried Stephen's question and he grinned at Vida's answer.

"I waited two hours for you to finish your shift, right?" He looked her up and down and shook his head in disbelief.

"Look at her man." He beamed at Stephen. "Look at us!" He spontaneously sprung to hug the man. "We're lucky bastards!" He briefly squeezed the other and pulled back to see Hank offering him a bottle of water. Right. Smart.

He took a gulp right when his new husband spoke up… Almost bending over and spurting his water at the question, Carlos burst out laughing. It was a quick cackle before he looked at Hank with moist, upturned lips. "I'm clean, hubby. Don't worry about that." He winked.

He wouldn't be that playful. Not so soon and not to a straight man. But he felt good, his head swam and his gaze cruised back to the other couple. Then his eyes narrowed at Stephen. "Wait…don't I know you from somewhere?" He was a cop so there were many options. But he couldn't put his finger on it.
THE COP
 
The interaction was getting worse and worse by the moment. Between the older man coming in asking about using protection to Carlos pulling Stephen into a drunken hug. He pushed the man off feeling the anger hit him more. It wasn't just because Vida had slept with someone in the past it was because he knew Carlos wasn't a relationship person, well till he was forced to be. Yet his now wife had given him the cold shoulder. Her profile also lead him to believe she wasn't some one night stand type of woman. "Lucky?" He scoffed having to try to remain some composure. The cameras were always watching.

Stephen gritted his teeth which was apparent by his stiff jaw, wanting a second or even third shot. He was glad someone found the question of using protection funny cause he certainly didn't. He grabbed for the flask that was on the inside of his suit jacket. He quickly opened it chugging down the high end whiskey inside of it. His throat burned but he didn't care.

He almost choked some of it down when Carlos asked if knew him. That wasn't good at all. He quickly cleared his throat to dismissthe claim. "I did modeling for some magazines back in the day. Probably why I look familar" he insisted. It wasn't a full blown lie. He quickly took another swig realizing the flask was empty. He looked to Vida "I think we should talk" he said looking to the two men "alone. " He needed some answers from her and needed them now.
 
Vida stiffened as Carlos threw himself at Stephen, wrapping his arms around the man with a boisterous laugh. Judging from his profile, his clothes, and his general attitude so far and she was pretty sure Stephen was not the hugging type, especially when it came to strange drunk men. She struggled to keep her face neutral as the smartly-dressed man shoved the cop off of him, though Carlos didn't seem to notice. His grin never faltered.

"Vida Cara," she introduced herself, taking Hank's handshake. She briefly wondered if her name was actually Vida Everfield now, but her foggy head didn't want to think too hard on that just yet. This situation could not get anymore awkward as is - which Hank, of course, decided to prove her wrong. She felt her face heat up as the man asked if she had used protection. Sober Vida would have been mortified, and while she still was the emotion felt subdued by the alcohol already running through her system. Instead of rushing to defend herself or change the subject, which she should have done, Vida felt a giggle burst out of her throat at the same time Carlos nearly doubled over with a laugh. "Yeah," Vida agreed, backing up Carlos's statement, "No babies or STDs here."

Vida blinked in surprise. I should not have said that, her brain backtracked immediately, casting a wide eyed look at Stephen beside her. She had no idea what his sense of humor was like yet and that statement may or may not have been a big misstep. She watched her husband pull a flask from his jacket, his jaw stiff. Yeah, he definitely wasn't happy. Vida had half a mind to snag that flask from him and chug it herself. She couldn't decide if after her comment that she had drunk enough, or if she wanted to drink more and try to forget this embarrassing situation. But Carlos's question distracted her, and she glanced between the two men, curiosity momentarily making her forget what had just happened. Normally she wouldn't put much weight on the mind of a drunk man, but Stephen's reaction - faltering in his drink, body tensing - made her think they did know each other, somehow. And she didn't think it was because Stephen used to model.

Her husband lowered the now empty flask and Vida frowned, realizing she'd missed her chance to drink whatever had been inside. He looked her way and she forced herself to meet his serious. He was not at all amused.
"I think we should talk. Alone."

Vida was pretty sure she was in trouble.
 
Tara took a seat next to Anya while they decided their next best step. "I don't like his match either. Definitely men like him are one of the reasons I don't fuck men" she said a bit crudely but it was true. Anya was right though the out of it man wasn't their responsibility nor her focus. The stranger who she didn't even know the name of was just another victim of the marry me app.

The other girl seemed to be holding her own so Tara decided not to step in unless she felt needed. She wouldn't let anyone get openly harassed. She took her campaign back drinking it down. "I guess we could just sit here and get to know each other." She suggested since the red haired man seemed not to be paying any attention. She took in the room one more time seeing a few of the others group together with the blond girl and the cop laughing. At least the cop seemed visibly drunk so not an active threat but Tara have to keep that in mind.

Her attention went back to Anya "though if mister slimy gets to be too much over there I don't mind stepping in." She looked to the food not too hungry due to nerves. "I wonder how they will handle our last names" she said lightly trying to change the tone of the conversation.
 
As the meat- as the new groom sat by her, his gaze returned back to Anya and her new wife. Or rather, he was looking at the blonde guy spacing out by them. Sona looked back and forth between the pair, just a couple of times, looking for anything that might explain the match. On the surface, at least, they seemed like they would have been polar opposites. Actually, with the palpable discomfort in the room, everyone here seems to have been mismatched- maybe this was all just some sort of elaborate prank? Surely even the government understood that two people needed more than half an hour to get to know each other...?

The more likely story was that she was just projecting her own feeling of being left out onto everyone else. Again, she refocused on the cake destroyer next to her. He certainly didn't seem lonely, or out of place. He seemed to be having fun in his own way. Maybe this was just what she needed right now. That crazy dud? Her interest was piqued, at least, but the crazy dud didn't have time to wait for her to form polite interest. There he went, onto his spouse- and asking for her interest in a jailbreak.

Sona blinked; he wasn't serious, was he? No... No, he definitely was. She took a glance at her dress; it was hardly a track suit. But a glance at the door told her there were more latecomers who might be able to serve as a distraction. Could her spouse be out there? But, better yet- was this really an opportunity to get back at them for leaving her at the altar? She looked back to the man, a grin growing on her face as she spoke. "Think we could make it outside before they caught us? I think there are mre people coming who might take the guards' attention, so we might have a shot at it."
 
Anya found her lips splitting into a smile at Tara’s crudeness, her brutal honesty refreshing. And wasn’t that what she had asked for on her MarryMe profile? Someone who would cut through the bullshit? Anya nudged her chair closer to Tara’s, heart stuttering for just a second.

“I fuck men - or, I guess, fucked men,” She blanched, realising the implication behind her words. “Not that I’m suggesting we - I’m not expecting any kind of - I realise I wasn’t chosen by you, was picked by an algorithm, so intimacy isn’t…fuck.” She raked a hand through her hair, its careful styling momentarily forgotten in the wake of her flyaway mouth. She waved her hand in front of them, a physical dismissal of the conversation.

“Forget I said anything. I’ve heard that we don’t have to change surnames, not if we don’t want to - but I’m not against it. What’s yours? I didn’t, uh, get to see your profile so I don’t really know anything about you. Tell me about you.” Anya raised the glass of champagne to her lips, draining the remainder of its contents in one quick swig.
 
Carlos' laughter was bright and surprisingly open, twitching a smile onto Hank's face. At least the two of them found it amusing. Even if there were nothing funny about VD.

Unofficial theory amongst medical professionals was that the MarryMe initiative had been a government effort to stymie a viral Herpes-96 epidemic, amongst other things. But pushing an agenda of abstinence before marriage and good ol’ family values had proved ineffective on a liberal society without enforcement from the surveillance and security sector.

Stephen did not look impressed. His wife’s abashed smile faltered in the face of obvious displeasure. Had Hank struck a nerve? Or was it Carlos? …Or was this the type of man the blonde had been consigned to? Demanding. Short-fused. Humorless. A twinge of concern tightened beneath his diaphragm. What could he do? Fuck all. Slip her his card if the opportunity came up? Tell her to call if she needed help? Or just break the tension.

“Let’s get a photo.” Hank didn’t wait. Catching Carlo’s waist to tug the LEO closer, the four of them in the frame as he extended his arm, translucent device outstretched. Teeth flashed in a tight smile.

But facing the room, his attention faltered. Drawn to three people sat nearby. Two women, with their focus on a slender, pale-faced man. Something was wrong. The glazed expression and gray color to his skin, stark against the sharp formal outfit he wore. Unresponsive to the pair that hovered in concern.

Hank squeezed Carlos' arm. "Be prepared to call an ambulance." His tone suddenly stern. "Excuse me." Steps rapid as he crossed to the table.

Intoxication. Blood pressure. Arrhythmia. Stroke. Aneurysm. Any number of things could produce a catatonic state. Grabbing the back of a chair, he dragged it around to face the individual and sat. "I'm Doctor Pierce." Gentle but firm as he took their hand and squeezed. "Are you alright?" Non-responsive. Seeking out the pulse point in his wrist to find it frighteningly low. No dilation in his pupils, but no normal movement tracking either. Shallow breathing. All indicative of autonomic hypoarousal. "Have you taken anything?" Serious gaze swung to the women to demand answers. Unapologetic of the interruption. “What happened?”

Pierce
Hank


Carlos' laughter was bright and surprisingly open, twitching a smile onto Hank's face. At least the two of them found it amusing. Even if there were nothing funny about VD.

Unofficial theory amongst medical professionals was that the MarryMe initiative had been a government effort to stymie a viral Herpes-96 epidemic, amongst other things. But pushing an agenda of abstinence before marriage and good ol’ family values had proved ineffective on a liberal society without enforcement from the surveillance and security sector.

Stephen did not look impressed. His wife’s abashed smile faltered in the face of obvious displeasure. Had Hank struck a nerve? Or was it Carlos? …Or was this the type of man the blonde had been consigned to? Demanding. Short-fused. Humorless. A twinge of concern tightened beneath his diaphragm. What could he do? Fuck all. Slip her his card if the opportunity came up? Tell her to call if she needed help? Or just break the tension.

“Let’s get a photo.” Hank didn’t wait. Catching Carlo’s waist to tug the LEO closer, the four of them in the frame as he extended his arm, translucent device outstretched. Teeth flashed in a tight smile.

But facing the room, his attention faltered. Drawn to three people sat nearby. Two women, with their focus on a slender, pale-faced man. Something was wrong. The glazed expression and gray color to his skin, stark against the sharp formal outfit he wore. Unresponsive to the pair that hovered in concern.

Hank squeezed Carlos' arm. "Be prepared to call an ambulance." His tone suddenly stern. "Excuse me." Steps rapid as he crossed to the table.

Intoxication. Blood pressure. Arrhythmia. Stroke. Aneurysm. Any number of things could produce a catatonic state. Grabbing the back of a chair, he dragged it around to face the individual and sat. "I'm Doctor Pierce." Gentle but firm as he took their hand and squeezed. "Are you alright?" Non-responsive. Seeking out the pulse point in his wrist to find it frighteningly low. No dilation in his pupils, but no normal movement tracking either. Shallow breathing. All indicative of autonomic hypoarousal. "Have you taken anything?" Serious gaze swung to the women to demand answers. Unapologetic of the interruption. “What happened?”

coded by reveriee.
 
Screenshot_20221025_090218_com.android.gallery3d.png


Chad Burton

Chad flashed his teeth in a dubious grin and got up, offering his open palm like a boy asking a girl for a dance at a prom night. "We gonna find out." He grasped Sona's hand in a firm, rugged grip and nearly flung her off her seat. But his arm was there to catch her if she'd stumble.

"Oh shit, wait, I got an idea." Chad let go and jogged over to the cake. He bumped to giddy Carlos who was just pushed away by Stephen but he swiftly waved around the intoxicated obstacle and as blatantly as before he thrust his hand into the cake. This time to the highest tier with the groom and bride figurines. Once the whole tier, like a trophy, was stuck over his broad palm Chad jogged back to Sona, putting his free hand to her back to prompt her to hurry out with him. "C'mon!"

They made it through the door and saw the trio arguing with the guard on one side. Exit was on the other. Chad glanced between the distant door on the right and the four people in the corridor on the left. But it seemed he didn't think about it for long. He left Sona and with hasty steps approached the other marriers.

"Yo, stiffy." He spoke to the guard and as the man turned to look at him the adrenaline junkie shoved the pink gateau into the man's face. Smearing it all over the guard's angry expression.


 
CARLOS WESSON
Carlos chuckled at Stephen's words but his smile wavered. Was the guy one of those controlling assholes? Carlos banged Vida just once but he knew the girl deserved someone better than— Wait, now he remembered where he knew this guy from!

Feeling Hank's arm around him made Carlos dismiss the thought though and focus on the moment. It was his wedding and he was going to enjoy himself dammit. The officer hugged Hank and Vida over shoulders on each side and, not touching The Sour Face, he shot a slanted, toothy smile. But as the flash caught in his eyes he was no longer looking at the lens. He was gazing at his husband's face.

His husband. Carlos liked the way it sounded in his head. The way it fluttered in his chest. But as Hank's tight expression changed, Carlos frowned. "What's wrong?" He asked, letting go of the two.

He glanced at where his arm was grasped and watched Hank go as his drunk mind tried to process. "Ambulance…"

And just like that everything changed.

The tall man by the table with two girls who didn't originally react to Hank began to writhe and shake. His eyes rolled back, showing whites and his mouth hung open with saliva dripping from the side.

"Shit!" Carlos instantly pulled out his phone and turning his casual, half-drunken slur 180 degrees he spoke to the emergency services. "We request immediate medical assistance. There's a man having a seizure." He didn't have to give the details, his personal information as well as his exact location was already being sent to the closest ambulance.
THE COP
 
The liquor was fueling a burning put of rage in his gut. He was almost ready to grab Vida's arm but before he could even move a muscle he heard something about a picture. Before he could even fake some expression on the picture was taken. His rage now on the older man who seemed suddenly distracted.

He was going to demand for it to be deleted but the man rushed off towards some others. He didn't care to know why but now they were alone with Carlos he sighed. Before he could ask Carlos in the nicest way to fuck off the other also seemed distracted by whatever the older man was doing. Seemed to him some poor soul drank too much. He didn't really care even if he heard something about calling an ambulance. He turned to Vida wanting to speak his mind now they were alone. So he faced the blond taking a deep breath.

"After seeing your profile I understood why you didn't kiss me. Yet between the kiss at the alter and now knowing you've apparently been into hookups I can't help but feel shorter maybe even slighted. " He went with the second best option trying to make her feel bad for upsetting him so much.
"I was ready to give this a genuine good but now I hardly feel there's a chance if I continue to get these mixed messages."
 
Tara watched as Anya stumbled through her words. She didn't mind at all. "Um okay" she said when the other girl asked her just to ignore what she said. "I agree no pressure to do anything" she assured. When Anya asked about her she realized she got to see the profile of Anya's due to their hacking.

"Oh yeah I haven't seen yours either. Hence why I walked in so confused." She laughed to get through her lie. "So my surname is Yung. I currently am a delivery driver and like to work on computers as a hobby."

She paused noticing that the stranger who wasn't responding seemed to be worse off. Before she could even check in on him again another older man rushed over introducing himself as a doctor. Maybe she should have found a way to do more research on the other members. Too late now. "I um don't know what happened. He was dragged over here by the big buff guy and hasn't said word...." she said honestly seeing the worry. She overheard the cop contacting for an ambulance. Was it really that serious and she had missed something? She couldn't be sure. He was breathing so she hadn't thought of asking for help. Maybe she should have.
 









scroll








@mjcha_renee



renee













mood

hungry











outfit

t-shirt and sweats + apron











location

her apartment











interactions

none











tags

none















Eyebrows scrunched in concentration, Renee carried out the finishing steps of the new recipe she was trying out for the night, sighing in satisfaction at its completion. Sushi-making was an art form, and since she hadn't had the resources to take an actual class, she had to settle for watching many, many videos to learn—the result looked pretty appetizing, though.

She picked up a phone and shot off a quick text to her cousins, and was just starting to rinse a knife when Cody came bounding into the kitchen-slash-dining-room.

"Is that sushi? Renee, you spoil us,"
he said, beelining for the plates cabinet.

"Sushi?"
Hera echoed, coming in seconds after her brother.
"Renee, you shouldn't have! And I don't mean that. Please do this more often."


"I definitely foresee more sushi-making in the future,"
Renee grinned.
"I can't guarantee the quality of this one, though, so if it's not the best, keep it to yourselves."


They sat down and began to eat, with Cody and Hera offering both compliments and feedback. Then Hera asked,
"How was work today, Renee? I heard you come home pretty early—is that a good or bad thing?"


Renee swallowed her food before answering.
"Oh, I'd say good! We finished work on the latest patch, so my supervisor gave us the go-ahead to take off early."


"Latest patch, huh?"
Cody quirked an eyebrow.
"Will this patch maybe be the one to finally pair you up with someone?"


Renee shook her head amusedly.
"That's not how it works and you know it."


"I don't know,"
Cody raised his hands in mocking defense.
"I'm just the art guy. I don't know anything about patches or whatever."


Hera chimed in,
"You should just hack the system and give yourself the hottest guy. Or smartest. Or whatever you're into."


"Hack the system? How dare you!"
Renee held a hand to her heart in mock outrage.

In all honesty, though, Renee would never even contemplate the notion of doing such a thing. After all, the AI was meant to pair them up with the best possible choice. And wasn't the best possible choice, well, the best?


♡coded by uxie♡
 
He could feel it. The prickled rush of adrenaline through his blood. Heat flushed beneath his skin with the surge of a well hidden savagery, the shadow living in his chest, that bared its teeth in hunger and greed at the sight of - prey. Burning into the glower that did not twitch from the guards face. His grip twisted tighter on the baton. Connor wanted to rip it free, turn it on his target and show ‘em what it meant to be humbled.

But the woman’s slender hand fell halfway on the baton. Her voice filled with reluctant reason. And Vix wrapped an arm around his waist. “My husband and I-” Connor’s exhale slow, letting the tension slide with his breath. He let go. Darting a glance at the other guards who approached. There weren’t no battle to be won here. He’d just be stroking his own ego. “Yeas, Sir. We were just headin’ back. No trouble here.” His soft squeeze at Vix’ side a silent thank-you. For bringing him back to measure.

Only to hear the smack of shoes on tile. Turning in time to see YouTube sensation Chad Burton ready to launch wedding cake into the guards face. “Wait, no-” Arm up too late. Pink icing and vanilla crumb satisfyingly splattered across uniform and the floor. Asshole did deserve it. The man’s mouth opened in shock. “Mother fucker!” The other guards broke into a run. Service weapons pulled and leveled. “Get on the ground! Now!”

“All of you, on your fucking knees! Hands behind your heads!”

Connor’s jaw clenched, palms up and open. Slowly raised above his head. No thinking. When he stepped a little ahead of Vixtor, keeping him out of gun sight. The look he shot at Chad Burton one of warning. “Everybody just- cool it. Ain’t no need-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Cake-face spat, pistol whipped from the holster. Black eye of the muzzle aimed at Connor, rage in the twist of his mouth and his finger hovered over the trigger, before the weapon was swung on Burton. “On your knees!”
 
Between her intervention and Vix's less-than-convincing agreement, Haru thought the trio had at least a one in four chance of escaping the guard situation with little more than a sharp glare and rebuttal. At least.

But then a random couple come bursting through the double doors, with one of them - hot, but clearly a fucking piece of work - swaggering up to the guard and shoving what looked to be a piece of cake in his butt-ugly face. She might have laughed, if it hadn’t put every single one of them in jeopardy. As the security guards' guns rose to train their sights on their foreheads, Haru turned her dark gaze to other newcomer, lips twisted in a grim smirk.

"They paired you with a real good one, huh? Rather you than me. Good fucking luck with that." And she was back to focusing on the guards, bare arms half-heartedly raised in the air and swaying every so slightly on her heels.

“I’d rather not kneel, if that’s alright with you? I’m wearing white, and the ground is dirty.” She paused, alcohol dulling her cognitive functioning. “Oh! And my spouse is still waiting for me. So if we could hurry this up…?
 
It didn't take much prodding to set the man in motion. He wasted no time pulling Sona out of her seat, t just immediately let go and make a bee-line back for the cake. Is he for real? Again with this shit? But something about his confidence was so captivating; the woman found herself staring after him, curiosity eclipsing anything else. It had gotten Anya out of her mind, at least, and Sona had to admit there was a bit of a thrill to it; a part of her felt like she had been let in on some secret.

He came back with his prize of another handful of cake. A hefty handful of cake. Wait- that wasn't just a handful- that was the whole top tier- her hand was grabbed and tugged along into the hall, but her mind was still at that table, comprehending. He'd taken the whole top tier of the cake? No one stopped him? Her mind trailed its way through the reception to meet up with her again; and then, there they were in the hallway with a handful of others, and a guard with cake on his face.

A guard. With cake on his face. Who looked less than pleased. She gasped, if only to stop herself from laughing; this had been his plan? Not that they'd had much time to prepare- but didn't this call for stealth? If she wasn't sure that she was about to be arrested as a conspirator, Sona might have admired her new friend's confidence. Bumbling, unwarranted confidence, but confidence nonetheless.

Still- a moment later there was a gun in play. Sona mimiced the other newlyweds putting their hands up, and found her attention stolen by one of the three that had already been in the hall. A woman in a white pantsuit, with luscious hair and a handsome sleeve. She seemed amused at it all, really; Sona's eyebrows shot up at this one's casual attitude. Well, she seemed a worthwhile last person to meet, at least. "I'm just taking him for a joyride," she muttered back. "Not my full-time job. My spouse..." But she'd lost the woman's attention.

Spouse was still waiting for her? Someone had already come for Anya, so... Sona gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. "You're my wife! Where the hell have you been?!" Her tone was flavored with disbelief, rather than anger; the guard seemed to have been easily forgotten.
 
There seemed to be commotion all around them, but Vida's wide eyes were trained on Stephen's, the alcohol dulling her surrounding awareness. She stared at him uncomprehendingly, blinked a few times. Her brain was really struggling to process what he was saying. Slighted? Chance? Mixed signals? She continued to blink slowly while her emotions slogged up a liquor-slick hill in her mind. She swear she could hear them arguing, like those little people in Inside Out, about who was going to take charge when her thoughts finally caught up to her. "What?" She said, then understood what he was saying. "Oh."

Sober Vida would have panicked and blubbered and apologized, but she was pretty sure that was anger hog-tying everything down and stepping into the spotlight instead. Her eyebrows furrowed, annoyance flickering in her gaze. "Hold up-" she said, raising a hand between them in a pause, voice low. "You're telling me that in the entire hour total that we have known each other you have decided to pass judgement on what little you've gone ahead and assumed about me based on our meager interactions and a dating profile. And instead of, oh, I don't know, having a normal conversation like an adult to clear up any confusion that you're feeling, you want to jump straight into guilt tripping cause your feelings are hurt?" Vida fumed, her voice steadily raising in tone to not quite a yell. "No wonder you last marriage failed, Stephen, if you're telling me that this one will too because I didn't kiss you after 30 minutes."

Vida had the urge to get into Mr. Gucci Belt's face, so she took a step back instead, placing her hands on her hips and cocking one to the side. "Yes, I have been giving you mixed signals. I am 26 and my government-mandated husband - that's you - is my very first romantic prospect, so excuse me if I'm still trying to navigate what that means to me and what the fuck I'm supposed to do. And yes, I've fucked Carlos. You wanna know my hook-up history? He was one of only two people, Stephen, that I have ever slept with, and I never did it again because that was all I needed to know that hooking up was not for me. Which is also how I know that being so physical right off the bat gives me major ick, and since you and I are stuck together I wanted this to work."

She was ranting. Vida knew she was ranting, but it was like word vomit and she couldn't get herself to stop. "And don't talk to me about mixed signals when you were Prince Charming at our first 'date' and a brick wall for our vows. Not to mention you brought a fucking flask with you, Stephen! What do you think that says to me about all of this? You decided this wasn't going to work before you even showed up today in that stupidly handsome suit. Not when I kissed you at the altar and not when you found out I wasn't a virgin."

Her chest heaved with her breathing as she finished her tirade, glaring daggers at the man in front of her. A beat of silence, then... oh no, that was real vomit this time. Her heightened emotions combined with the several drinks she had chugged caught up to her and she bent at the waist to throw it up, all over Stephen Everfield's ridiculously shiny shoes.
 
Stephen hardly looked pleases with Vida meeting his anger back. He stood stunned for the moment even at her response. "I was trying to have a normal conversation Vida about it" putting emphasis on her name. "You're the one who dodged it." He referred to earlier when he had casually brought up the kiss at the alter but she had decided to chug champagne instead.

"This flask" he patted inner breast pocket where it rested hidden. "Was for us to celebrate together....emotions yes got in the way of that idea. But it was for us." That was a lie however Stephen unfortunately for Vida could be a liar and a heavy manipulator, these qualities much worse when he was drunk and not getting the responses he wanted.

"So excuse me for being rightfully confused-" before Stephen even contiue his own verbal assault Vida hunched over quickly throwing up on his expensive leather shoes. His face went pale with shock. The only words able to escape his mouth were simple "what the fuck?!"
 
“Yung? Hmm…Well, my surname is Clément. We could go with Clément-Yung?” Anya stared forlornly at her empty wine glass, the belated realisation of her error slowly dawning on her. These kinds of conversations required alcohol, and a lot of it. She was about to rise from her seat from a refill when the man with the silver hair - Doctor Pierce - appeared at their table, voice laced with professional concern as he shook at their guest’s wrist. His tone made Anya refocus on the redhead just in time to witness the beginning of his convulsions. She shot up from her chair with mounting horror.

“I - I don’t know! His husband just sat him with us, told us to keep an eye on him-” Which they had clearly done a terrible job of. “-and disappeared! We tried to speak with him, but he didn’t respond. We thought he was just in shock and needed a moment.” She shook her head, hand instinctively shooting out to clasp Tara’s shoulder, as if she was her only lifeline. “He seemed fine! We didn’t check his vitals but…” Her voice trailed off; no matter the excuses she gave, she should have been paying closer attention, and not so caught up in the woman who would be her wife.

“What do we do? Tell us how we can help and we’ll do it.”
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top