Realistic or Modern #𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆𝗠𝗲 // Dystopian AI Matchmaking IC

[Find it Find it]

Vivian's eyebrows raise. She burned with resentment that this toned barbarian did not confirm that he listened nor cared about what she'd said whatsoever, yet she could not help but feel enlivened at his response. They sneer, not just out of anger, really, but conflict; They'd had their time in the locker rooms and beds of gym boys before and found them equally dull as they were, ultimately, unattractive; They'd never quite met a gym bro who could meet the archetype with all of the disgustingly excessive machismo suave that Chad was foolish enough to display. It was grotesque.

Suddenly, their hand is underneath Chad's chin. It lands gently, like a mosquito coming to rest upon a pond; Their long index finger and thumb suddenly grip into Chad's jaw. Vivian can't help but grin a little bit; This man is weird and it's making her act weird, she tells herself.

"But I can get very cold if my life is not on my terms." With their next sentence, they nod condescendingly. "If you want anything from me, make it very clear you understand that."

Their eyes flick towards the clock, and then flick back, a little disappointed. "Now kiss me. It's obligatory."

 

[IceCave]

CARLOS WESSON

He watched the black device travel from Hank's grasp to the chest pocket. Mindlessly stared at the neat seam of the expensive jacket. It should have felt different. Odd or scary. To give another human access to such intimate knowledge about himself. For a moment he wondered why it didn't.

Carlos lifted his puppy eyes scarred by grief. Meeting Hank's gaze as the man touched his hands again and gave the promise. That easily speared the broken shield around the officer's wounded heart with the tone of conviction in Hank's voice. Protect. Maybe that's all the officer needed. Someone to hold him and protect.

The depth of the moment shattered. Carlos flinched with his helmet instantaneously unfolding over his head and his trembling hand shooting down for the grip of his pistol as his head swung between two threats. No. No threats. Just MarryMe guards standing in the newly opened doors. Fuck. Get a grip.

His exhale wavered and he slipped his hand off the gun. Glancing back to Hank with the cracked visor detecting face and providing citizen information, confirming the name and occupation. Carlos looked to the box on the counter. Trying to stay in the moment. So on edge but trying to keep it together. He picked the thing up, heart fluttering with nerves as his fingers slowly forced the spring open. The immaculate rock sitting on the top of a golden ring gleamed in the artificial moonlight. Officer's HUD didn't fail to zoom in on the object and gave its stats in the corner of Carlos' vision. 1.0 carat Diamond and a 18k white gold band. Too small for him. But it didn't matter. The meaning behind it…

"The event is over." One of the guards spoke in a monotone voice. "You have 60 seconds to leave the room through your designated-" Carlos sprung up with the sharp hiss of the exosuit. Snapping his vision to the guard like he was waiting for a reason to get violent. "Or what?"

He didn't realise he just crushed the box, clutching it in the fisted exo-hand.

THE COP

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

He read the subtle signs, the crests in their face, the shift of light reflecting in their eyes. But there was nothing to bounce off of for Vivian. Other than that blunt smirk stretching guy's lips.

The flash of movement followed by the delicate touch didn't take him off guard, only adding fuel to the game when Vivian showed their teeth in what looked like a derisive grin. He didn't mind. The attitude, the words. He was entertained so far and that's what usually mattered.

Chad's body braced and he climbed to his feet in front of the other. Equally tall but powerful compared to them with his wider frame. Face to face. His expression painted by amusement, bright green eyes mirroring the dare from Vivian's tone.

His instinct would be to get a good grip of the blond hair and tug it to the side to smash their lips together and fuck other's mouth with his tongue.

But instead he put his broad palms to each side of the narrow hips and carefully pulled Vivian's body closer. Running his thick fingers up their spine without breaking eye contact. He slipped them to their thin neck and gently cradled it before closing the space between them. Tilting his own head and giving the other the most staged yet passionate kiss anyone could offer under such ridiculous circumstances.

 

[SteepVision]

A bright, surprised laugh hummed from Connor's chest."Thats grim." His smile split wide, it creased the corners of his eyes. But he could read the way Vixtor retreated from his own remark. The gleam of humor that peaked on the shorter man's lips gone too quick. Like Vix had spoke out of line. "M' pleased you ain't no HouseMate." Looking a little closer. His head tilted in curiosity.

Maybe Vix was shy? The way he stood, a little closed. Something tight in his smile. Or maybe he was uncomfortable. Connor couldn't blame him for that. This weren't exactly a normal situation, and he knew nothin' about this man. Didn't look like they were gonna get the time, neither. Glancing at the woman still stood to one side, her face pinched as she checked her watch.

His gaze returned to Vix, he took a step closer. The soft, green coloured curls a distraction, but not a disguise from the dark shadows under Vix' eyes. Might be a city boy, didn't mean his life were easy. Hesitating, before he reached out and placed a palm on Vix shoulder. Warm and wide, softly squeezed. "You okay?" What a dumb question, Connor. "Listen. I know this ain't exactly normal. I ain't wake up this mornin' thinkin' I was gonna meet the man I marry… Are you okay-" He gestured between them, concern creeping into his brow. "-with this?"

 

[spacepirate]

Making that murder joke was a mistake, something that Vix couldn’t afford, but hearing Connor laugh, seeing the smile spread across his face, made the whole thing a bit less regrettable. Almost. Though the next comment got him to shake his head. “Well, I certainly spend more time around HouseMates than anyone else lately,” he murmured, trying to get the sentence to come out with as little bitterness as possible. After all, he was supposed to be happy with his new life- with his new food bank, and now his new husband.

Isn’t that what they wanted from him? To be happy with all the procedurally-generated cards the algorithm threw his way?

That’s why he thought Connor’s question was meaningless- was he okay with this? Sure I am, he wanted to snark, I spent the last fifteen years of my life busting my ass and putting millions of lives in danger just so I could give it all up and play HouseMate, and now housewife! What more could he possibly want from life? But doing so would break years of cover, so instead he offered the taller man a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course I’m okay with this,” the volunteer lied, “why wouldn’t I…” Vix steeled his resolve, but ultimately let out a deep breath, rubbing at his temples with one hand.

When he picked up from where his words left off, his voice was low. He didn’t dare lean into the man’s face or get any closer than he needed to. This man was probably a spy, but on the off chance he wasn’t, Vix felt horrible for dragging them into his mess. “Look, you seem… alright,” he conceded, taking his handsome fiance in once more, “if you can get out of this somehow, then do it. Because what I’m dealing with right now is-“

Before he could finish, a ping rang out from their phones. Like clockwork, Vix flipped out his phone and read the notification. Time’s up. Realizing he’d most certainly said too much, he shook his head a bit more. It had been so long since someone had spoken to him like a fucking person, he’d almost messed everything up.

When he addressed Connor the final time, it was like he was an entirely different person. “Alright then, see you at the wedding!“ Then he recalled the notification reminding them to lock lips. Hm, well it had actually reminded them to kiss. in one swift motion, Vix took the other’s calloused hand in his own, before briefly kissing the man’s knuckle. See that, computer? He wanted to shout, now that’s romance! “Alright, bye again,” he all but saluted, already trying to put the notifications out of his mind.

 

[SteepVision]

Spoiler

His shoulders tensed, rigid as the LEO's helmet snapped shut and his hand dropped to his gun. Those softened eyes hidden behind the hard matte frosting of his helmet.

Unease, cold and heavy, slithered into Hank's gut. Face creased into a frown. This wasn't safe. Carlos wasn't safe right now. He'd seen more than once how volatile trauma could make a man, and this wasn't the place for it. He needed to be treated. Properly. He needed people who knew and cared for him. Swallowing tightly when he realised… that would be him. Husband. Whatever the fallout was, it had become Hank' s responsibility. He'd meant every word he said, but it had some fucking gravity to it. Fucking Affinity. "Carlos-"

He was cut off. Standing when Carlos did. The strength, the speed of the black exoskeleton- Even the guards flinched. Shit. The small room, suddenly oppressive. Hank' s breath shuddered. "It's-" Faltered. Tried again, stronger this time. "It's alright." Stepping around the table, towards the hulking, metal clad figure so difficult to connect with soft black eyes. He reached out, his hand contacted armour. "I'll see you at the wedding." He didn't force himself to smile. "And then… we can get to know each other." His touch fell away, and Hank retreated. The guard moved aside to let him pass from the darkened room into a long, empty corridor. His stride gained pace as he walked away.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Pierce

Hank

His shoulders tensed, rigid as the LEO's helmet snapped shut and his hand dropped to his gun. Those softened eyes hidden behind the hard matte frosting of his helmet.

Unease, cold and heavy, slithered into Hank's gut. Face creased into a frown. This wasn't safe. Carlos wasn't safe right now. He'd seen more than once how volatile trauma could make a man, and this wasn't the place for it. He needed to be treated. Properly. He needed people who knew and cared for him. Swallowing tightly when he realised… that would be him. Husband. Whatever the fallout was, it had become Hank' s responsibility. He'd meant every word he said, but it had some fucking gravity to it. Fucking Affinity. "Carlos-"

He was cut off. Standing when Carlos did. The strength, the speed of the black exoskeleton- Even the guards flinched. Shit. The small room, suddenly oppressive. Hank' s breath shuddered. "It's-" Faltered. Tried again, stronger this time. "It's alright." Stepping around the table, towards the hulking, metal clad figure so difficult to connect with soft black eyes. He reached out, his hand contacted armour. "I'll see you at the wedding." He didn't force himself to smile. "And then… we can get to know each other." His touch fell away, and Hank retreated. The guard moved aside to let him pass from the darkened room into a long, empty corridor. His stride gained pace as he walked away.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

.

coded by reveriee.

 

[IceCave]

The tall, double wing doors opened on each side for the marriers to take in the sight. The yellows and pinks coming from the floor and ceiling lit the ambiently dim ballroom and the little crystal lamp statues of happy couples illuminated the center of each long table. Whole room was adorned by silk, gold, and glass, all of which appeared iridescent when reflecting the lights.

"Welcome!" The woman in the extravagant dress waved from her pedestal, sounding exactly like many would imagine Affinity would have sounded if she was a human.

All of them followed the yellow line on the floor that showed them where they should stop in a row in front of the lady.

"It's my pleasure and honor to welcome you on the day of your wedding. My name is Cintiah and I will be your officiant tonight!" She smiled, sweeping the couples before her with unwavering, fake smile. "Shall we."

She fixed her gaze on just the two of them and the silver shine of a spotlight streamed down on the chosen couple. "Vida and Stephen. Repeat after me, please."

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

The wedding Ceremony was quick to follow after their first meeting and Stephen still felt slighted. Right after his first meeting with Vida he had looked at her profile since he had access. As soon as he read the line that she'd rather avoid physical contact till she got to know someone. So he was forced to be with a prude.

He wasn't even looking forward to the wedding night. They were getting married he didn't see why she would be so cold. Walking into the ceremony he had already slung back more than a few drinks. Enough to be drunk to make it through this shit show that was about to happen. Though he hid it well, it wasn't outwardly visible, the man held his liquor well and had plenty of practice in maintaining a normal personality even when drunk. That could very well change the more he drank into the night.

The ballroom was some of his least favorite color pairings. He noticed there were others clearly dressed for the formal event. Guess those must be other poor souls who were subject to this fucked up app.

It didn't help because his new marriage was getting finalized his old marriage was forced to end by the government. His ex got part of his company and he was pissed. Stephen felt cursed going from one failing marriage to another that he felt was failing before it could even happen and he couldn't stop it.

He stood in line dressed in a jet black Gucci suit that had golden accents. It fit him well and made him look very attractive. In his suit top he hidden a flask on an inner pocket, had to he prepared.

The officiant greeted them and he took a deep breath he was glad he had liquor in his system to tolerate this whole scenario. The forced vows that Cintiah started he pressed his lips together. He took a deep breath before he was forced to speak "I......Stephen-" another deep breath" take you....vida-" her name felt so poisonous to say "to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life." The rest of the words he rattled off with no intent of sincerity or honesty. How could he love and honor a woman who wouldn't even kiss him? He couldn't be sure if she even liked him. He kept his eyes forward barley looking to Vida. What would even happen at the required kiss? He couldn't even know.

 

[carrlavoie]

Vida was pretty sure she was going to throw up.

Affinity and the government really didn't want her to have her feet under her for any of this, it seemed. The notification that she'd been matched with a life partner had come only hours before their first "date" together - though Vida herself had only had about 30 minutes to process it by the time she'd seen the notification on her way to work. Then they'd had only 30 minutes to create some sort of foundation for this life they were supposed to share together, and now, only a few days later, she stood outside the door to the grand room where she was supposed to swear her love and loyalty to a man she didn't know until death to they part.

In classic Affinity fashion, Vida's wedding dress had been chosen for her. It wasn't like she'd have had enough time to pick her own anyways, and, really, they did a good job. It was just her style and fit like a glove, though a part of her had to acknowledge that it was uncomfortable that the government knew her that well. They really were watching, it seemed. The dress was a simple slip with thin straps and a low back, a slight cowl neck that showed off her - ahem - assets, and a slit in the skirt that left nearly her entire left leg up to her thigh exposed as she walked. No embellishments or lace, nothing to draw much attention to it at all. She could have been a bridesmaid if it weren't all white. But Vida was grateful that it was so simple. She would have felt very uncomfortable and out of place in a glamorous ball gown of a dress when this entire relationship was so rushed. Even something lacy would have felt like too much.

Vida's attention was drawn back to the present as the great double wing doors before her opened. In, once again, classic Affinity fashion, she'd had no time to interact with Stephen before this moment, and now they were about to say their vows. She had been prepped and dressed in a separate room and led to these doors what felt like only seconds before they had opened. Stephen had already been standing there, along with several other couples who would be married alongside them.

She swallowed down her nausea as the "chapel" was revealed to them, all gold and glass and iridescent gleaming. At least wait until the vows are over to puke, she grimaced, though she was pretty sure her heart was going to beat out of her chest before then. Vida followed the yellow lines on the floor to her place in front of the dais where an extravagantly-dressed woman greeted them. The beaming lady gave her game-show host vibes, which honestly felt pretty on par with everything that was happening. "It's my pleasure and honor to welcome you on the day of your wedding. My name is Cintiah and I will be your officiant tonight!" Yeah, definitely game-show host vibes. VIda would laugh if she didn't feel so sick.

"Vida and Stephen. Repeat after me, please."

Vida jolted. Right into it, I guess, she thought, turning to face Stephen. It was the first chance she had to really take him in. He looked magnificent in his all-black suit, but the look on his face didn't match the occasion. She stared up at him, a slight wrinkle appearing between her brows. She was pretty sure he was staring at a spot behind her, avoiding her eyes. A curl of uncertainty and fear wriggled in her gut. Why would he do that? He's probably just as nervous as I am, she told herself, trying to shake off the discomfort. If she didn't stop herself now she was going to start second-guessing and overthinking every little thing and would only end up anxious and miserable. Or, more anxious and miserable than she already was. She had spent the last several days reading and re-reading his profile and already felt very intimidated by the fact that he had been married once before. And a little concerned honestly. Why had his first marriage failed?

With another small jolt, Vida realized it was her turn to say the vows. "I, Vida, take you, Stephen, to be my husband," she began, relieved that her voice came out a lot stronger than she felt. She felt no small amount of pride that she did not puke all over Stephen's polished (and surely name brand) shoes by the time she finished her part. The feeling did not last long.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride!"

Fuck! Vida had forgotten about the kiss. There's no way she'd get away with shirking it again, much less at their wedding. With no time to think, Vida went for it. She took a step closer to Stephen - her skirt falling to the side to show a scandalous amount of leg - and reached up with her right hand, curling it firmly behind Stephen's neck to pull him down towards her as she rose up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to his in a not-so-humble embrace.

 

[Find it Find it]

Vivian, surprisingly, relaxes at the touch. Dear god in heaven, the last thing they wanted today was to enjoy anything, let alone enjoy something that she found comparable to a barbarian. However, she was admittedly impressed with his already modified his approach; His touch became rather tactful, firm not to force but to guide and share with her the movement he would like to create. She bemoans herself for romanticizing the moment; An assigned marriage was an immoral act of violence imposed upon her by a fascistic society. She would forever hate herself if she came to enjoy the partner assigned of her, particularly one which was so opposite to her on first glance that it was practically satirical.

Maybe this algorithm has more of a sense of humor than anyone would like to admit, they wonder. I believe I'm the center of some joke.

Before they can respond, the doors have flung open to a next stage of the event. Their spine tenses from skull to tailbone as they realize they are peering into the officiating chamber. The liminal fuzz of the dinner together fades from their senses; They feel their skin boiling off their body from the heat of the sun ten inches in front of their face.

Their body tries to freeze before they can enter but it is to no avail. She approaches the sanctum with all the grace of a zombie. The tiny couples dancing over the tables look like sugarsweet shrink-wrapifications of reality that tumble down her throat like unchewed pez tablets and gives her the urge to gag. They take small, short, swift steps; Their shoulders are lagging behind their body just slightly as they resist walking into the claws of destiny. She would, from here on out, spend the rest of her life managing a fucking caveman.

She turns towards Chad, looks him dead in the eye and speaks with a harsh whisper. "You are on thin fucking ice with me. You are very lucky to be on ice at all."

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

As Vida took her turn to say vows his eyes wondered to the other poor souls waiting to get married. He wondered if they were as unhappy as him. It was definitely an odd group, some guy with green hair who seemed on edge, a guy who looked like he was probably on some muscle enhancing drugs, another redhead who looked like he'd break if the wind blew the wrong way. Two of the men looked normal, though one he was actually familar with. Though he wouldn't admit to knowing this man as they knew each other through Stephen's job. A cop getting married he wondered who he was paired with. The last one his eyes landed on was someone who looked older than him, actually looked distinguished. He wondered what the man did. Did it really matter? He wasn't sure. It seemed like the matches were all destined to eventually have to adopt since the rest appeared to be men.

He was pulled out of his thoughts first by the officiant declaring them married and ordered them to kiss. He hadn't moved not about to get rejected again infront a group of people. So when Vida pushed forward planting a kiss, and a passionate one at that. Stephen could help but kiss back. He hopped he didn't taste like the whiskey he had been drinking. He certainly wasn't going to not kiss back. Had to keep up with appearances.

"Alright lovely!" Cintiah clapped her hands. "Stand aside and soon we'll enjoy some cakes and socialization." She guided them so she could get to the next couple. What an efficient steril process. He did as ordered stepping off the small little stage and went aside with Vida. He was still very confused at this woman's motives. Was she just some tease? Stephen didn't know how to feel about that currently. For now he had to wait through a few more marriages before he could get more to drink.

 

[IceCave]

CARLOS WESSON

09:23 AM
Wave of silence washed over the office when he stepped inside. All the familiar faces of his colleagues turned to watch him. Carlos faltered, breaths freezing. Struck by the flicker of phantom red and blue lights dancing over the black body bag laying in the path in front of him. A heartbeat later it was gone.

Get a fucking grip, Wesson.

He moved, avoiding their pity filled eyes that judged every bruise and mark on his battered, casual clothes-covered body. But some of them didn't let him pass without a comforting pat on the back or a sad smile. He didn't reciprocate with much of a reaction. Their behavior a testament to something final, something that he still didn't accept.

Carlos knocked on the door and pushed it without waiting for an answer. "Sir. You wanted to see me."


10:11 AM
The slanted scrim of dustlight bisected the cab of the cruiser with the late morning shine and shadow. It whirled wildly when he jerked the driver's door open and ducked inside. Inhaling the heat and familiar smell of their second home. It made him shiver.

Carlos took his time just watching the interior. The dark cockpit, the steering wheel with a saggy airbag hanging loose, and a lost chicken drumstick peeking from the floor of the passenger side. Nobody touched a thing yet. Just left the vehicle in the police parking lot waiting to be fixed.

Sheen of sweat gleamed on Carlos' forehead, building up in his eyebrows. Wet stain grew on the back of his white shirt pressed to the seat that Dimitryjev occupied during most of their patrols. The officer felt hazy from the stifling air inside, letting his eyes hood when a gust of wind tumbled through the wide open door, cooling his wet face and body.

What the hell is wrong with you, Wesson? He smiled, hearing his partner's voice in his head. Get your brown ass out of that sizzling wreck. Go get a drink. Or a girl. And stop acting like a sentimental fool. Carlos wondered what Dim would think of his MarryMe match. A snobby prude is what I'd think. Now get the hell out of here.

Wesson got out and went to the back to collect everything from the boot. Then he plopped back to the driver seat sideways with his feet on the ground, reaching for the glovie to throw the contents to one of the bags he brought. He was ready to leave once done but he halted. Sitting on the edge he stared at the door compartment.

Hesitant, like he wasn't ready for what he'd find, Carlos reached into the pocket and felt the thin stick with his fingertips. And a lump in his throat as he pulled out a bright red lollipop. Cherry or Strawberry. He hoped for a Cherry one when snatching it from a bowl in the Hospital. He knew it was Dim's favorite flavour.

Carlos didn't know if it was him overheating or something else in that moment but he couldn't stop the tears. They streamed down his sweaty face. Just a dumb lollipop. A stupid fucking lollipop.

He folded, hiding his face in one arm as he sobbed like a little boy. Clutching the candy in his shaky palm as if it was the only thing he had left after years of sharing duty with the man he called brother.


12:48 PM
The door chimed when he exited the new Chinese place on the corner of Rogers and Christ The Saviour Ave. Carrying a pile of plastic containers wrapped in a rubber band he stopped by the sports bike illegally parked on the pavement and began strapping the meals behind the pillion. The city bustled around him. After all, it was a festive weekend. He would have been working nights again, watching the night gatherings, but the Captain put him on the mandatory, two week leave. Wesson wasn't going to let it get to him, though. Fuck it. He had a new objective and he was going to stick to it.

The man hopped on the machine and buzzed the electric motor to life with an artificial vroom before putting on the helmet, wearing no protection otherwise. Just the sweaty white tee, dark blue shorts, and sneakers. Carlos leaned over as the visor lit up with the stats of his bike, the weather, and the traffic in the area. But as he joined it after tossing a glance at the holo-mirror he requested a different information.

"Hey Mamacita."

Hey Sexy, what can I do for you?

"Doctor Hank Pierce." He weaved between cars as the AI articulated citizen's details in his ear. "Workplace location." He saw it pop up on the little map in the corner of his eye and he smirked to himself. "Set as destination."

He followed the directions, heading to his future spouse's Hospital. It was against the MarryMe regulations to meet Hank before the wedding but Carlos was never a fan of rules. He did enjoy surprises though, and hopefully Hank would enjoy the surprise lunch with his soon-to-be husband.


06:35 PM
"Nah, I'm good, thanks papi. I got my bike here." Carlos patted his fellow officer's back and motioned his head at the bright green and silver XR Gen8, styled like Suzuki Hayabusa from the early century. He was a sucker for the retro stuff and it seemed to make a comeback these days too.

After a short wave to another departing cop car Carlos glanced one last time at the pile-up crash site. The mess on the metalgun bridge they were on contrasted with the inlet's subtle waters shimmering vivid pink and yellow as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

The St.Helen's Bridge led to the part of the city where Hank's Hospital was located. But it took hours to secure all the civilians, rescue those trapped in the vehicle hanging in the air, and help resume traffic in at least one direction. So Wesson never made it to the 'second date' as he happened to witness the massive accident and assisted from the start when on his way there. He looked to one of the fire trucks readying to leave and ran to his bike. "Hol' up!"

He was with them moments later, giving the food containers to the crew. "Best new Chinese place in town, guys! Enjoy."

They looked at him in a different way. Or at least it felt like they did. Because they knew. They knew what happened. They knew Carlos lost something that would break a lot of men.

The cop ended up eating the cold dinner alone at the viewpoint overlooking the city. Sitting on his bike and munching on an egg roll dipped in sweet chilli sauce. He licked his lip and set the open container down, pulling out his phone.

I wanted to see you today. No, he deleted it.

Wanna go get a beer? He stared. Then delete it.

Finally he sent the text, feeling his heart beating a little faster. Hey, man. I've been thinking about you.

THE COP

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

Chad put his arm around Vivan's shoulders to prompt them to move as they froze in the doorway. But he didn't push. He didn't force it. It's like he was a wild dingo that could still learn new tricks as quickly as a trained service dog. Handling Vivian in a way the King Kong knew to handle a delicate human.

The two of them stopped in their marked spot in the row of strangers who would share not only that pseudo elevated moment with them but also the honeymoon trip. But Chad wasn't staring at the new faces, he'd have the time to do that later. Now he was solely focused on the person beside him, facing Vivian as they spoke with a warning. His dark green eyes traced their expression like a curious cat watching a mouse he was pinning by the tail. Or was he going to be the one pinned by that peculiar persona?

"I don't do figure skating but I can play some mean hockey, Birdie." The spotlights shot down at them, showering them with a silver stream of light that dipped the rest of the room in the ambiguous shadow. Like suddenly the world was just a void and there was nothing else around them but the man in front of Vivian.

Chad didn't take his eyes off his prey as he took their thin palms in his thick-bone fingers and said with a smirk. "Game on."

 

[spilledcoffee]

There was a latecomer to the party.

As the first pair finished their vows, the doors to the room quietly swung open, revealing a petite figure swathed in white lace. Taking a step forward, a woman came into sharper view, approximately 5’6”, with delicate features and lithe limbs coated in a soft olive hue. Her face was framed by a dark bob the colour of polished mahogany, and complimented by a heavy fringe that rested just above her eyes, which were wide, inquisitive, and like molten chocolate. She was dressed to match the others in the room, wearing a lace Prada wedding gown with a plunging neckline and open back. She wore minimal make-up; winged eyeliner, a hint of blush on her cheeks, and a deep cherry-red lipstick.

Anya took a step forward, head held high, and waited for a beat to give her comrades-in-marriage a chance to take in the unexpected interruption. Was it just her imagination, or did the officiant’s eye twitch ever so slightly? Good. They deserved it for this humiliation.

“You’ve been matched!” And yet she hadn’t, had she? Her partner - her apparent future spouse - was away overseas, and would likely not be joining her for the ceremony. The text had instructed that despite their absence, she was still expected to attend, to mingle and support the other couples. Anya had no issue with this, but why did she have to take part as an uncoupled bride rather than a guest? It was uncomfortable and it was embarrassing and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, other than plaster on a smile and play the game. So play she did, but resentfully.

There was an empty space for two at the end of the thin yellow line. Swallowing down her rising nerves, Anya strode towards her cue, heels clicking and the train of her dress unfurling in her wake to reveal a continuation of the beautiful lace pattern. It was the dress of her dreams, and yet was completely wasted without her partner there. There was no one to gawk at her, no one standing at the end of an aisle frozen in shock; there was just a group of people with their backs to her, likely already loved-up and distracted by their newly-found bliss. If only she could have that too.

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

Tara got her outfit ready, it was finally time to start her mission that she was assigned to. Marry a politician's daughter and gain government secrets. Simple enough right? It all started years ago when she joined a rebel cell group who was bound on taking down the government shortly after all the cameras got installed. She saw first hand how the government could fail its people and she wanted to take action. She had the perfect knowledge since she was into technology so joining was simple but working her way up was harder.

Now she wasn't sure if she regretted that. A few weeks back they found a politician's daughter was signed up on the infamous Marry Me app. So of course the group had a big opportunity, Tara was the one who successfully broke into the app forcing the algorithm to match her profile with that of Anya Clément. Though Tara had no interest in the mandated date nor wedding so they helped her formulate a plan. An unexpected family death, not for real though. Just looked real to fool the government. Yet she planned on making it to the reception. She did have to eventually meet this girl so she could get to the information she wanted, the group wanted.

After fixing up her long black hair she looked to herself one last time. She wore a red velvet suit top with pants to match, under it a simple black blouse. It fit her slim 5'5" figure well and definitely would make her stand out. She looked to the time figuring the reception should be starting soon. Marry me weddings were fast and efficient. The thought of such an arranged process that was once supposed to be something so loving an intimate made her sick. Which is why she opted out of the date and ceremony.

However she had go face Anya eventually so their plan could go into action. Why not show up for some free food and drinks? Once she was satisfied with her appearance she went She left her small apartment with a motorcycle helmet in hand. Outside waited her Ninja bike, all blacked out. It helped her get around for her day time cover job.

Once on the bike came revving to life and she got her black helmet on. She then took off to where the ceremony and receptions were. Showing up fashionably late she parked her bike leaving her helmet with it.

She headed in sure she was about to have all eyes on her. Tara could handle this or at least that's what she told herself. She walked into the building hearing muffled music until she opened the big doors to the reception hall she looked around remembering her match still wouldn't have seen her own profile even if Tara saw the hacked version of Anya's. So she had to play dumb for a moment as she continued into the room. 'Here goes nothing' she told herself.

 

[SteepVision]

The words out of Vix's mouth, "Of course I'm okay with this." and the look on his face,"why wouldn't I…" didn't match up. Tight lipped and reserved. Con's optimism faltered. There was a problem here. One he couldn't gauge from Vix' words alone. Confirmed when his match dropped his tone, and told him to get out.


It drained the warmth from Con's gaze. Why exactly would Vix say something like that? Even if Con had wanted out, you needed money, or friends in high places. It didn't take a degree in astrophysics to see he probably ain't got neither. Dirty clothes and steel toed boots didn't exactly scream government elite. No. What Vix was saying sounded a helluva lot like: its not you, it's me.


His laugh was suddenly uncomfortable. Retracting his hand from the mechanical kiss to tuck into his back pocket. "Aight." Voice tight. The sting of rejection fresh. He weren't used to being told no. This was obviously his timely sign from God to sit down, check his attitude, and be humble. Watching Vix go with a frown.

 

[SteepVision]

The penguin suit made him look like private security detail. Bow tie, tight at the neck, reminding Con how much he hadn't missed dress uniform. It had to be some sick sense of humor, that he was dressed like a waiter while the next guy wore tailored designer. Whose ass had he licked to get a suit, and a bride, like that? The pretty girl in China blue tats looking not half pleased to be there.


Seemed like Vixtor might have felt the same. Con had half expected the green-haired volunteer not to show. The rubber gloves made sense after reading his profile, and still had Con second guessing exactly what he'd meant. "If you can get out… do it." But it looked like he'd have the opportunity to ask.


He stood facing Vix, at ease, even if his face belied some of the questions that played his mind. The green suit was… sweet. It fit him well and matched the green cloud of hair. But all of MarryMe's work couldn't hide the circles under Vix's eyes. He looked tired.


Their vows were nearly up. Gucci getting a passionate kiss from little blue. The whole show kinda reminded him of enlisting. Signing his life away, and no real clue what he was getting into. He just had to hold faith, and belive in the plan. Swallowing the sudden undertow of nerves that took him by surprise. Dark eyes soft, his whisper quiet. "Hey." He offered his hand, palm up. "M' glad you made it. I weren't sure…"

 

[upscalerat]

In under a week, the government had managed to turn Sona's life completely upside down.

Back on Friday, Sona hadn't even been thinking about a wedding. She had been finishing up her week at work. Not that Friday evening had to be the end of her week; she was able to set her own hours, and her own deadlines when she wasn't under contract- which she wasn't, now, even though she should have been, now- but over the years, the thirty-two year old game developer had realized the convenience of keeping her working hours at least somewhere in the realm of what the rest of the world did. She couldn't not work on her projects, but she still wanted to be able to see her friends on occasion; sometimes, this meant becoming nocturnal for a spell, or working on weekends.

Currently, though, it was more in line with everyone else's life. Friday, in blissful ignorance, Sona had gotten dinner with her two friends; Davina, a friend since college and the person in charge of all of the sound in her games, and Zubair, the artist behind her and her favorite coworker from her first job. This had been one of those weeks where the three had managed to practically avoid each other, catching glimpses perhaps as they passed each other in the hall that led to their shared, one room office. There was no question then, when their schedules all aligned, that they were getting dinner together.

It was a fun time. And, more than that- there was a chance they'd land a contract the next night. Sona was more than eager to share the details with her friends; she would be getting dinner the next night with some high rollers at Sony. It was a rather last minute arrangement- only put together that very day- and it wasn't a guarantee, but there was a solid foundation for hope. Passion was fine and all, and none of the trio were struggling to make ends meet, but that didn't make security any less alluring. It was something of a shame that Davina and Zubair were both going to be out of town for the weekend; they would have loved to join, but had no reason to complain.

When dinner had finished up, they proceeded to the bars. Sona had even scored a date; a lovely person who gave her all sorts of interested signals. When Sona had asked for their number, they practically jumped to give it to her. Even then, Sona found herself texting them well into the night- and well into Saturday morning, until they had met up at the weekly artisan market.

After that, Sona brought them to a matinee; and despite the desire, her date had to leave her, then- they had to get ready for their mother, they explained, but they would let her know when they were free. And if kisses weren't reserved for second dates, they would have given Sona one in farewell; she would just have to look forward to it next time.

Which left Sona with plenty of time to prepare for her important business dinner. When the driverless car came, Sona thought nothing of it- until the turns were going every wrong way, and the woman finally took a look at her schedule. Did she mix up what restaurant she was going to...?

No. No.

She wasn't going to a restaurant- she was going to a MarryMe facility. A notification from hours ago was sitting, as unassuming as could be, alerting her that things had changed; congratulations! She had been matched! Affinity was kind enough to cancel her dinner- not even reschedule it! Just cancel it! There was no hope she could salvage things now- and updated her appointment to 'meet her true love'. The AI even went as far as to reroute her preordered ride to the MarryMe facility.

That had been bad enough on its own; sitting through the whole half hour segment, and being stood up had just been salt in the wound. When the friendly facility guards had come to escort her out of the room, her elapsed time up, Sona stopped at the receptionist; so she lost a huge work opportunity for nothing? Correct, the robotic woman told her. It turned out that her spouse-to-be was sick, and that Affinity would keep her updated, and Sona was escorted out of the building.

Having to text the person she'd been so happily dating that morning that she was no longer available, as well as having to update Davina and Zubair on how she'd managed to completely miss out on the job were hardly pleasant tasks. If being stood up was salt, this was rubbing it in and keeping a smile on her face. It was awful.

As was the lack of updates- until Wednesday. "Turns out today's my wedding," she told her empty office. Zubair was still with his family, and Davina had said she wouldn't be in until later. There was... No one to commiserate with. Getting herself back to the MarryMe facility was like walking through a dream; she was just... Suddenly there. The same receptionist was there to offer directions as had been on Saturday- "So I finally get to meet them, mm? I haven't even been able to see their profile," the jilted woman complained.

The receptionist blinked. "Of course you can't see their profile. You haven't completed you first date!" Her smile would have looked more genuine if drawn on by a child. "We have an assistant here to prepare you for the ceremony. Your spouse is still listed as sick, but you must still proceed with the ceremony." There was a note of finality to her voice- like talking to an ancient AI that was finishing its response, Sona thought. The receptionist had already disengaged with her, so Sona didn't protest; what good would it have done her, anyways? Maybe she'd be able to annul the marriage. One party not being present had to be a good enough reason to, right?

Robot and human employees alike directed her to a dressing room, to a dress, through makeup and hair, and finally to the ceremony hall. Sona had practically blacked out the whole process until the doors were opening in front of her, revealing sickening saccharine hues of pinks and yellows from her grandmother's childhood, and other people in standard western wedding wear. Not that Sona was in a sari herself, or anything, but did no one really have any culture of their own to bring into this wedding? Were they all just... Puppets of the government?

Was she?

Her thoughts of doom and gloom were cut short when her eyes followed the yellow brick road ahead of her, to see a lone bride standing at the altar. She blinked, confused- wasn't her spouse sick? Then, who...?

Sona stepped forward, then scurried along the line, towards the altar, her tongue suddenly thick in her mouth. This- this wasn't fair. Sona had convinced herself that there was no way that the AI could accurately match her; hell, she had done her best to make her profile as undesirable as possible- the inconsistent hours, the blasé tone, the blatant mention of her sexuality when there were still people prejudiced abound bisexuality for being other too closed or too open- and yet, standing in front of her was a stunning vision of beauty. If she'd had the choice to herself, Sona couldn't see herself picking anyone else; at least, not if she was picking on looks alone.

She approached, and took the other spot at the altar with no thoughts resounding in her head. "This spot taken?" Sona asked, her eyes fixed on the bride there the whole time.

 

[spacepirate]

The day of the wedding was somehow worse than the first date.

At least on the first day, all he gave a shit about was how the powers that be were fucking his life up more than they already had, but after reading through Connor’s stupidly wholesome MarryMe profile, the real problem was clear. Vixtor was the fucking problem here, second only to the sadistic AI that had matched the poor fella with him. The way Vix saw it, he had two options: faking his death, which was already ridiculously hard to pull off when you weren’t in the government’s marriage spotlight, or try to suck it up for someone else’s sake. Someone that might just be a government spy, but a someone nonetheless.

It was easy enough to procure what he needed for the wedding. They’d taken a lot from him when they’d assigned him his current lot in life, but there were small things he was able to save. A postcard from a country that didn’t really exist anymore, a faded polaroid from a happier life, and the green suit he was wearing on that special day. There were cameras all over the facility, but there was nothing illegal about keeping old mementos in a plastic bin under your cot. The suit wasn’t custom made or anything, but he’d worn it out often back then, and it nearly fit the same way.

Of course, those bags under his eyes wouldn’t pack up so easily.

As bizarre as the group wedding was, Vix admitted to himself that it was almost… nice, to be standing there with other people. His suit‘s color was off, though, and he couldn’t help but wish that he’d just found a way to take out a rental so he’d blend in more. Not just to lower suspicions, but because… well, didn’t his ‘future husband’ deserve someone who tried a little harder to fit in?

Connor looked handsome, if a little uncomfortable, in that suit and bowtie he was wearing. Vix noticed how he looked at the other couples, and let his eyes rest on the same stunning woman with inked arms and a blue dress. There was the blonde individual he’d been mistakenly matched with as well, and Vix tried to avoid eye contact with both the poor victim of his temper and the boisterous personality they’d matched with.

He took his own fiance’s hand easily, griping it firm, eyes steady. He scoffed a little at the man’s comment, and fought the urge to snark back. “Yeah, well... I’m surprised you’re here too,” he admitted, speaking softly under the vows of the ceremony, “after the profile I wrote, I mean… they were either going to match me up with a pscyho or a…” Angel maybe? Someone who didn’t think that good deeds were just for show? God, for the first time, Vix caught himself hoping that Connor actually was a spy of some kind.

The actual vows were easy, even if Vix couldn’t hold Connor’s gaze for very long. How could he, knowing that the poor guy was matched with him of all people? “I, Vixtor, take you, Connor, to be my husband.“ It wasn’t hard to imagine that in a different life, they might have fallen in love for real. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Vix’s end.

 

[spilledcoffee]

Anya’s eyes surreptitiously flickered down the row of couples as the vows continued, as if uninterrupted. She took in the beautiful blonde with China blue tattoos paired with – Anya blanched momentarily – Stephen from Sentinel; the man decked in green standing by the seemingly gentle giant; the tattooed hunk of meat in a snapback matched with the slender man with delicate features; and finally the somewhat cheeky-looking guy with eyebrow slits stood beside the stern-looking silver fox. Everyone was...annoyingly gorgeous, causing a wave of envy to settle in the pit of Anya’s stomach. She folded her arms across her chest defensively and looked down at her feet, praying for the ceremony to be over already.

And then the tell-tale sound of the double-doors swinging open hit her ears, and she reflexively turned around, eyes flickering up until...oh.

A woman was walking towards her, dark-haired and lightly tanned, wearing a full-length champagne dress which hugged her curves and showcased her slender limbs. She was breath-taking, an absolute vision in lace and tulle, and everything Anya hadn’t realised she’d wanted until that very moment. Could this be her match? Could the MarryMe system actually work? But no - her future spouse was away overseas on business, and Anya hadn’t been provided with an update, no matter how much she had complained. This couldn’t be them. Could it? Anya was helpless to stop the hope bubbling up inside of her as the woman stopped at her side, dark eyes fixed on hers.

“No.” Anya’s mouth had run dry, her brain turned to cotton wool. She licked her lips, tried again. “I mean, I guess it is now. Hi, I’m – I’m Anya. And you’re...?” My match? It was too good to be true. Hands dropped from across her chest, her fingers fiddled nervously with the edge of her sleeves, tugging at a strand of loose thread. Perhaps the dress would unravel like she was.

 

[upscalerat]

At least Sona wasn't the only one here who was nervous. Though if the dark haired woman in the lacy, floral dress in front of her was simply the nervous sort, or if she had hopes or disappointments about her new partner how that they'd seen each other, Sona couldn't say. She hoped that her bold approach had made a good impression- but what if it had been too forward? What if her apparent bride blamed Sona for their not yet meeting? The woman didn't look as though she had recently recovered from a sickness, but maybe it had just been a cold? Or there had been a bug in the system? Oh- but if there had been a bug, then were they even really supposed to be matched...?

Sona's breath caught in her mouth, just behind her teeth, as she heard the other bride- her bride- speak. Certainty had dug in its claws; no one's words but her soul mate's could have that sort of power in them. No one else's voice ought to have been able to make her knees weak. Anya. Sona could already feel the sweetness that the name would give her. She blinked, and swallowed, and came back with an easy smile. A natural one. "Sona." She bent herself down in something of a quick bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, and I'm sure it'll be even more to marry you."

As she rose, she faced her body to the officiant- her eyes were still stuck on Anya. The silver light made the details of her dress shimmer and sparkle- or maybe that was just an effect of her own natural beauty? But when Sona could tear her eyes away to look at the officiant, ready to begin, she was surprised at what she saw. Rather than the hollow facade of joy that she should have been seeing, there was a crack in the illusion. The officiant was looking down, at the altar, her brows scrunched. And that- that wasn't the shadow of a frown on her face, was it?

The officiant finally looked up, her mask settling back in as she did so. "I'm afraid you two are mistaken. While you are both getting married today, you are not getting married to each other."

A cramp formed in Sona's stomach, as though she had been punched. "Excuse me?" That couldn't be right. No- no- no, Sona was sure- this was love at first sight. Their damn algorithm had worked. The stars were aligning and shining on Anya and herself, and this marionette was going to tell her that they were wrong? "That's absurd, come on." It wouldn't do any good to throw a real fit in front of Anya- that was no way to make a good impression- but if she hadn't been there, Sona might have forced herself behind the altar to take a look for herself.

 

[SteepVision]

Spoiler

The tag, magnetized, locked into the tray. Unsteady body-cam footage flickered onto the screen. He could hear heavy breathing. Every rush and pant from Carlo's lungs. His hand tensed, clenched into the arms of his seat. Never squeamish but- Covering his eyes. Fingers spanned wide not to spare himself the sight of blood, and the sound of shock. Pain.

"I'm not letting you die!"

Dragged, straight from the scene, to Affinity.

Tension creased his brow as he re-watched their meeting from a new point of view. Contextualized. What he saw on screen enriched with the memory of Carlos' dark eyes. Was it ethical? No. Carlos had not been in any state of mind to trust Hank with what he had. It wasn't like he hadn't fought himself but… this now became his life. Their future. Of which the past was inextricably a part.

He scanned forward through time. The images racing through Carlos day. Until he broke down in the cruiser. Childlike sobs of private pain. And had to hit pause.

Hank’s shoulders bowed, rubbing at stress lines on his face. What a goddamn mess. The sudden sharp rap of the door shaking him from self pity.

“Doctor.” The paramedic, his tattooed hand rested on the door jamb, was watching. Clever gaze flicked between Hank and the image suspended above him. “You got a minute?”

“Of course.” How long had he been watching? Hank stood, the tag snatched from the tray and tucked into the breast pocket of his scrubs. “What do you need?”

…

Hey, man. I’ve been thinking about you.

Hank checked the time stamp on the message. Sent over four hours ago. An eight car pile up on St. Helen’s bridge had turned A&E into chaos. Two dead, two transferred into intensive care, and three stable. Hank leaned his shoulder into the wall, a tight ache across his back and neck, and paused with his thumb above the keys.

What did he say? That he’d watched the footage, that he knew what had happened? That he’d got up at midnight after sleepless hours and started pushing furniture around the house, planning for his space to become theirs? His sigh, deep and heavy. A flutter of nerves filling his chest. Typing back.

I haven't been able to think about anything else.

…

Hank clasped his hands to keep from fidgeting. Resiting the urge to check his breast pocket for the small identity plate, tucked next to a dark gray pocket square.The tag was waterproof, blast proof, fireproof. The tag would last if his body was turned to ash and dust. Did not mean it wasn’t easily lost. An appropriate metaphor, he supposed, for the vows they were about to take. A few small words that weighed a helluva lot more than the vowels they took to say.

Pierce

Hank

The tag, magnetized, locked into the tray. Unsteady body-cam footage flickered onto the screen. He could hear heavy breathing. Every rush and pant from Carlo's lungs. His hand tensed, clenched into the arms of his seat. Never squeamish but- Covering his eyes. Fingers spanned wide not to spare himself the sight of blood, and the sound of shock. Pain.

"I'm not letting you die!"

Dragged, straight from the scene, to Affinity.

Tension creased his brow as he re-watched their meeting from a new point of view. Contextualized. What he saw on screen enriched with the memory of Carlos' dark eyes. Was it ethical? No. Carlos had not been in any state of mind to trust Hank with what he had. It wasn't like he hadn't fought himself but… this now became his life. Their future. Of which the past was inextricably a part.

He scanned forward through time. The images racing through Carlos day. Until he broke down in the cruiser. Childlike sobs of private pain. And had to hit pause.

Hank’s shoulders bowed, rubbing at stress lines on his face. What a goddamn mess. The sudden sharp rap of the door shaking him from self pity.

“Doctor.” The paramedic, his tattooed hand rested on the door jamb, was watching. Clever gaze flicked between Hank and the image suspended above him. “You got a minute?”

“Of course.” How long had he been watching? Hank stood, the tag snatched from the tray and tucked into the breast pocket of his scrubs. “What do you need?”

…

Hey, man. I’ve been thinking about you.

Hank checked the time stamp on the message. Sent over four hours ago. An eight car pile up on St. Helen’s bridge had turned A&E into chaos. Two dead, two transferred into intensive care, and three stable. Hank leaned his shoulder into the wall, a tight ache across his back and neck, and paused with his thumb above the keys.

What did he say? That he’d watched the footage, that he knew what had happened? That he’d got up at midnight after sleepless hours and started pushing furniture around the house, planning for his space to become theirs? His sigh, deep and heavy. A flutter of nerves filling his chest. Typing back.

I haven't been able to think about anything else.

…

Hank clasped his hands to keep from fidgeting. Resiting the urge to check his breast pocket for the small identity plate, tucked next to a dark gray pocket square.The tag was waterproof, blast proof, fireproof. The tag would last if his body was turned to ash and dust. Did not mean it wasn’t easily lost. An appropriate metaphor, he supposed, for the vows they were about to take. A few small words that weighed a helluva lot more than the vowels they took to say.

.

coded by reveriee.

 

[IceCave]

CARLOS WESSON

Colorful lights glinted in his eyes. Idle and glossy from depressant cruising in his veins. Relaxed at the back of the cab with his head lulled back, Carlos stared at the buildings flicking past. Shapes, clear-cut and ambiguous, built of carbon-fibre concrete. Reinforced with neo-plastics like 2DPA-1 and covered in black or silvery coats of biochar cladding. Enlivened by advertisements and government propaganda twinkling on the holographic glass.

Wesson knew it was just that. Indoctrination. But was it wrong? Didn't seem wrong in the times of crisis from a decade past.

He remembered his childhood, though. Without such tight restrictions. Without MarryMe. He remembered his parents and their kind of love. The type he secretly dreamed of but never dared to fantasize about out loud. Romantic and overwhelming. Dulling rational thought and squeezing your chest nearly too hard. The forever kind of love.

Carlos looked down at the white shirt he was wearing. His dark uniform jacket was opened and almost dry by now. The shirt unbuttoned by the collar. He didn't remember where he left his tie. Dismissing the thought he focused on the chain underneath the fabric. Black like the tag hanging on it, accompanied by something else.

He pulled it up and the round, polished shape glistened with the lights they drove past. They reflected in the diamond in all the colors of the prism. It was the too small wedding ring he was carrying on the chain since the day Hank gave it to him. And something stirred in his belly at the sight. At the thought. Husband. His lips curled upward and the soft smile made it to his hazy eyes. He was getting married.

It didn't matter that it was an algorithm not love. It didn't even matter that Hank would probably never want to be intimate with Carlos. He was going to commit to his future spouse. He was going to open his battered heart and hope that despite stark differences, Hank would like it there.

"Sir."

His gaze skipped to the rear view mirror as the driver continued, gesturing at the MarryMe wedding services facility. "We're here."

"We are?" Carlos tucked the chain back under shirt, and straightened up a little. Not realizing his hair was mussed on one side he drunkenly grinned. "How do I look?"

THE COP

 

[IceCave]

Chad and Vivian were the second couple to last that sealed the generic vows with a kiss. But as the spotlights moved to Anya and Sona the officiant hesitated. Soon explaining the situation and visibly unamused by the protests. She shot a big, fake smile. "You'll meet your spouses in due time. Now." She looked up at the rest and gingerly clapped her hands.

The spotlight disappeared and the golden shine flooded the whole room, shimmering in the reflective confetti showering the marriers from above. The lively cinematic music assaulted them all from the speakers and the lady on the pedestal opened her arms.

"Ah, I'm so happy for you! Wonderful! All of you! Now go." She turned her hand upward, pointing at the lengthy table at the back that just now lit up to expose the delicious contents. Snacks and treats alike. And an impressive, four-tier wedding cake in the middle. Plates and knives set aside.

"Go and slice some of that sweetness for your spouse. Feed them with it like you will feed them with your precious love. Now and for eternityyyy!" She ended her theatrics throwing her hands up in an exaggerated gesture and then left, accompanied by the two armed guards.

Now, in the bright light, finally all of them could properly see each other. It was time to share the cake and get a drink.

 

[spilledcoffee]

I’m afraid you two are mistaken.

Well, fuck. Anya’s dark eyes flickered between the officiant and Sona, disbelief evident on her face. Finally, she thought this whole process had turned a corner, that they weren’t really pushing her to her limit, that it was all just some big misunderstanding - except it wasn’t. Anya’s nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm as her hands curled into fists at her side, and there was no small amount of relief when Sona seemed just as disappointed as she was, yet had the bravery to speak up. Was this not another sign that they were meant to be matched? Daringly, Anya reached out to gently clasp Sona’s wrist, shooting her a grateful smile.

“Let’s just get this over with and talk after. Okay?” Match or not, Anya felt desperate to get to know the other woman, seemingly the only other individual left out of sea by the government without a life raft.

Anya quickly removed her hand from Sona’s arm, clasping both in front of her, and watched quietly as the other couples said their vows. At a second glance, not everyone seemed quite as happy as she had first thought - some clearly had a burgeoning connection, whereas there was a hesitancy between others, an air of tension fizzling between them. As the ‘I do’s’ made their way down the line, Anya found herself more and more intrigued by the group she had been placed within.

Now and for eternity! Puke, but at least the worst part was over, probably. Anya exhaled a sigh of relief, only then becoming aware of the tension stored in her shoulders and upper body. She took a step back from the yellow line as she rolled her shoulders and neck, eyes immediately returning to Sona, the only beacon of hope in that place. She took a half-step towards her, closing the distance enough to make their own little bubble, but not so much that it would be a breach of personal space.

“What a shitshow, huh?” She murmured softly, conspiratorially, to Sona, red lips quirked in a smirk. “Let me guess - your future spouse is also awol, yet you were forced to join the circus nonetheless?” At that moment, the doors to the room were again flung open, and another vision of a woman stepped into the room, this time wearing a well-fitting red velvet suit. This was torture, pure and simple. Not willing to get her hopes up yet again, Anya simply looks the woman up and down once before turning her attention back to Sona.