Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by King, Jul 13, 2015.

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  1. TimeStamp

    Newcliff, NY, USA.



    Name // Soulmate // Player

    Mason Phoenix // Nicholas Keahi // King
    Natasha O'Connor // Kimmie Lou Wong // King
    Jonathan Seele Hill // Salem Grant // Mad Magus
    Gabriel Laughly // Carissa Knight // Mad Magus
    Carissa Marie Knight // Gabriel Laughly // nikki.13
    Circe Kensington // Nate Burchett // WishfulNemo
    Dorian Storme // Xiomara Castillo // King
    Nate Burchett // Circe Kensington // nikki.13
    Nicholas Keahi // Mason Pheonix // Polystical
    Xiomara Castillo // Dorian Storme // Polystical
    Salem Jay Grant // Jonathan Hill // Justaddnutts
    Erika Carmella Sanchez // Sam McClelland // Justaddnutts
    Kimmie Lou Wong // Natasha O'Connor // Justaddnutts
    Sam Aiden McClelland // Erika Sanchez // nikki.13
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  2. [​IMG]
    M A S O N P H O E N I X

    00/00/00 - 01:43:23

    That was it, just under two hours. Mason hadn't looked at his Timestamp for days, he had tightly wrapped it up under bracelets to prevent himself from looking. It worked pretty well, until he got completely smashed the night before. He went out drinking with a couple of friends, and ended up in his bathtub, ripping off his bracelets to see what was up. Less than a day. Mason was terrified.

    What if she didn't like him? Eugh, Mason had the thought just as he lay in the bathtub, his neck in pain from the awkward position he had slept in. The hangover was just appearing in his head too. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, he may as well get ready for work, and his soulmate. Mason stumbled out of the bathtub and into his room. In his draw, there was various different hair dyes. It had been a while since he had dyed his hair, so it was a murky blond. Time for a light green, he thought.

    After dying his hair and covering up with his beanie, Mason put on a graphic tee, shorts and long socks. He grumbled as he found his phone. Mason considered texting his friend Salem about last night, he couldn't even remember if Salem was even there last night, but he couldn't find his favourite snapback.

    "U seen my hat?"

    Mason texted Salem, hoping he was there. It would be awkward if he wasn't. He collected his keys and got on his way out of the house.


    Mason kept checking his stamp through the millions of bracelets, watching the time tick away. In an hour, a girl would walk through the door and greet him as his soulmate. The thought made Mason nibble on his lip nervously as he sketched away ideas for new tats. He'd been doing this for ages, apparently he had the job of cover-up artist for the next few weeks since the other one had gone on holiday. Mason was nervous, on top of all of this.


    T A S H O ' C O N N O R

    00/00/00 - 10:23:01

    The number was constantly watched by Tash. She was more worried about Jason seeing it than actually meeting her soulmate. Hopefully when she actually met them, she would be able to explain her marriage then get out of an awkward situation. Not to mention Jason was excited to renew their vows.

    Tash sat in the bath, using it to avoid having to talk to Jason until tomorrow. She felt awful, but Tash didn't want to hurt Jason one bit. Nor did she want to leave him. She earned a lot of money and spent a lot of it, finance wasn't the issue. She depended on Jason emotionally. He cuddled her every night and she was used to him cooking and cleaning as she worked. Without him, she'd be lost.

    00/00/00 - 4:22:54

    She sat at her desk, typing away. She dressed up to the max; diamonds everywhere, black designer clothes, Gucci bag. Tash loved looking this good. Her manicured hands typed numbers up as she ignored her own. After work, Jason was gonna pick her up and take her to get the vows renewed. All the time, she worried about him seeing her stamp. In fact, she was amazed that he hadn't seen it already. Tash told him again and again she didn't actually have one, which seemed to work. So far.

    D O R I A N S T O R M E

    00/00/00 - 03:02:45

    Even though his stamp was ticking down, Dorian was making his way out of work and straight into the bar. His number didn't bother him. He'd have to tell his soulmate 'Good luck!' Because Dorian tried faithful once, and it didn't work. The man couldn't help himself, he wanted to be a free man, no soulmate in the world could stop him from being himself.

    Some people would tell him it was too early for a drink, but Dorian pretended it was never too early. He left his briefcase and jacket at his office, making it easier for him to pick up people at the bar. He ordered whiskey and downed it quickly. Work stressed him out; People's problems on top of his made him nervous. Drink and sex was a perfect way to make things easier for him.

    Within one hour, the bar had filled up. Dorian found himself with a drink on one hand, and the other on an attractive mans thigh. Being a ferocious flirt, Dorian found it easy to get his way into other peoples pants. He noticed the male he was flirting with had a number in its months. Easy. Dorian wasn't looking at his, but now he could sleep with this guy with no guilt.

    00/00/00 - 00:05:34

    Dorian's tongue was deep in said guys mouth as his clock drew closer. He had the man pinned up against the wall of a corridor as they made out heavily. Dorian tugged on his tie as he got into it. The only reason he left this happy place was to get another drink.

    He staggered towards the bar and sat down, "Hit me with another baby." He slipped his money onto the bar as he waited for his drink, anxious to get back to his new partner. It didn't even occur to him that his number was dangerously close to buzzing. ​
    • Nice execution! Nice execution! x 1
  3. Circe Kensington

    00/00/00 - 00:10:00

    Was this watch for real? Circe grumbled at the numbers it flashed, hoping that it was a lie. Tapping on the glass the girl hoped that it would jump back to one hour or so, maybe a few years. The girl wasn't ready yet to meet her soulmate and especially not so before a job! Letting go of a frustrated sigh the woman ordered another round of drink and willed it down her throat. Of course, it was just her fantastic luck to have her watch go off right at the moment that she was supposed to meet up with a client. Another one of the many old geezers she was to date and to flirt around with for a night. She just hoped that she wasn't unlucky enough to have this old geezer as her actual soul mate!

    Ten minutes, well counting nine now that she finished her inner monologue, but it didn't matter too much. Approximately ten minutes she had left before she was supposed to meet this soul mate of hers. Who could it be? Turning her eyes around in the bar which was the meeting spot of her client Circe found a few appealing faces in the crowd. However none that screamed out 'soulmate' or 'perfection' towards her. How was she to recognise the man anyway? Blazing horns and angels singing? The woman was very unsure on how this vague concept of soulmates actually worked. And though she might be unwilling to tie herself yet, wishing to play around for a little while longer, Circe was a bit curious with who fate had setted her up with.
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  4. Cris Knight


    Cris shot up in her bed at the sound of her alarm, her hair a tangled mess. Christ, what time was it? She couldn't be late again. Her manager had already told her that she was borderline getting fired, and she needed the job more than anything. Although she was a part-time student and had no plans of staying a bartender her whole life, she also didn't have plans of becoming anything else, either. The bartending paid for the small apartment she lived in, and it also helped out with her tuition in addition to the loans she'd received. But one or the other wasn't enough, and she needed to keep the job. Too bad she had a knack for sleeping in.

    Miraculously she got there on time. Her hair was a bit frizzy from the quick shower she'd taken, but at least she wasn't late. The familiar scent of stale cigarettes, sweaty men, and alcohol filled her nose as she walked behind the bar and took her shift. Sneaking a shot of tequila behind the bar for herself, Cris prepared herself for the day.


    Cris ignored her timestamp. The last time she'd looked at it had been weeks before, and it had been an accident. Unlike half of the city's freaks just merrily waiting for their perfect matches to prance into their lives, Cris loathed the damn thing. She didn't believe in fate or destiny, and she certainly didn't believe in the kind of love the timestamp promised, so most days she outright refused to look at how long she had left. But today, as she was wiping up the counter, she caught the time again and her breath stopped.

    Holy shit. She stared dumbfounded at her wrist for a moment, but then quickly recovered as a man began walking close to the bar. Please not him, not him, not anyone but Jesus Christ, please not him--

    "Hit me with another, baby," the man said and tossed money at her. She stayed completely still for a second, waiting for her wrist to buzz. Thankfully it didn't and she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the timestamp was wrong. After all, there was no one in the bar she would even consider glancing at twice, especially not the man in front of her.

    "You sure about that?" Cris mused, though she began pouring the man's drink anyway. She glanced at the man's wrist and couldn't suppress a hard laugh. Anger blossomed in her heart as she realized that his time, too, was ticking down. And by the looks of the flustered man he'd left in the corridor, he certainly enjoyed his freedom. Cris gritted her teeth and felt a pang of sympathy for the man, sliding his drink across the counter to him. "This one's on the house, buddy. Looks like your time's almost up."

    She then turned to face away from the man, her eyes tightly closed. And so is mine.


    Sam McClelland

    "Sophocles once said that 'fate has terrible power. You cannot escape it by wealth or war. No fort will keep it out, no ships outrun it.' So, do you agree? Is fate unstoppable?"

    Sam addressed his class, leaning against the front of his desk. Today's topic had been about tragedies, and the class had been all too receptive. It made Sam wonder what sort of tragedies these kids were dealing with themselves.

    "Yes," a boy in the back spoke up. "Fate is something that's been decided from forever ago, whether you believe in a god or not. Sometimes things are just meant to happen."

    "Unless it's luck," another girl replied. "People can get lucky, and in that case fate doesn't have much to do with it. It's just circumstance and coincidence."

    "It doesn't matter how lucky you are,"
    the boy shot back. "Whatever is supposed to happen will happen, and you can't stop that. Like these fucking ridiculous timestamp things everyone's always crazy about; there's no telling who you'll end up with, but once your time is up, your future is decided."

    "Do you believe in fate, Professor M?"
    the girl turned to Sam without replying to the boy. "I mean, has your timestamp decided your future?"

    Sam smiled slightly, though his heart ached in his chest. Yes, yes it had. The woman he loved was buried six feet under because of the timestamp, and as far as he was concerned, his future was bleak and gray without her, no matter who else was supposed to be his soulmate. But his students didn't need to hear his story.

    "I believe our time is up for today," Sam said simply. "Remember, your papers are due tomorrow, first thing. Have a good one." He nodded to his students as they packed their things and began exiting the class. He had another class in about twenty minutes, but the talk about fate left him spinning.

    Sam sat down in his desk with pursed lips. For the fourth time that day he lifted his wristwatch to examine the time stamp.


    Damn thing wouldn't stop ticking down, and he was powerless against it. You'd think he would care more, but all he could do was carry on with his day as normal. There was only one person in this world he loved, and she was dead. No matter who walked into his life in the next fifteen minutes, all he would be able to associate with them was that they were the reason Marcy had jumped. So as far as he was concerned, he hated them already.

    Sam shook his head to clear it and began to grade the stack of papers on his desk.


    Nate Burchett


    It was really just like any other day for Nate. He woke up with two nameless, naked women in his bed and a mild hangover. There was a slight rocking in the room that let him know he'd partied on the yacht last night. And fuck, where were his pants? He glanced around him, trying not to disturb the girls; once they woke up, they would be asking when they could see him again, and the good Lord knew that was never going to happen. So he quietly managed to get off of the bed when he located his pants across the room.

    He zipped up his jeans and threw on a button-down shirt before walking upstairs to the deck. There he handed a large wad of cash to one of his attendants. "Make sure they don't know where I live. You know how the blondes can get." Nate winked at the man before joining his personal butler Clancy at the head of the boat.

    "You're meeting with Circe Kensington in a little more than an hour, sir,"Clancy informed him. Nate chuckled at the unusual name. "You said she's a hot piece of arm candy, right? Because I'm gonna need a lot of fine ass to get past that name," he said. It wasn't his first time choosing a woman to pamper for the night in exchange for her company, but it was the first time she actually mattered; there was a charity event his father had asked him to attend tonight, and the woman on his arm needed to be as beautiful and pristine as she could be.

    "Yes sir, she's certainly beautiful," his butler replied. "But if I may be so bold; your time seems to be going down, so perhaps tonight isn't the right time for this--"

    Nate started as he clasped the older man's shoulder. "Whatever babe is destined to meet me an hour from now will just have to wait in line. I've got people to please, and the most important one is myself. I'll see you at home, Clancy."


    Nate had returned to his mansion, showered, and changed into a high-end suit. He was adjusting his tie in his mirror when he caught sight of the time on his wrist. Clancy had been right, the numbers were going down. Huh. Maybe the night wouldn't be such a bore after all, and he'd end up with two sexy ladies in his bed just like the night before. If his soul mate expected him to be loyal, she was out of her mind. Nate smirked at the idea of him falling head over heels for a stranger and abandoning his lifestyle; that would never, ever happen. So as far as he was concerned, whatever pretty fine thing pranced into his life tonight and tried to claim his heart would also have to claim the heart of Cici- no, Cecilia- no, no, Circe. Yeah. Circe.


    He'd told Clancy to tell her to meet him at a bar. There was still an hour or so before he had to be at the event, and Nate figured he would take the time to really get to know the chick and everything she, ah, liked to do. He'd forgotten about the time on his wrist, and by the time he walked into the bar, it didn't matter. He spotted Circe immediately, remembering her by the picture Clancy had shown.

    Nate grinned widely, loosening his tie a bit as he sauntered over to the bar to the pretty woman. This was going to be a fun night indeed. "I believe you're waiting for me, doll," he said as he approached her, offering his hand. As soon as he made the gesture, he felt a strong buzz at his wrist. Nate grew completely still as the realization dawned on him. Holy fuck.
    • Nice execution! Nice execution! x 1
  5. ⊆⊇​

    Lovebird Problems

    Gabriel had a hard time believing the world had anything for him but a life to live. He assumed that living life was all he'd get out of his surreal journey through being born and dying, and that it would be that simple. He thought life was simple. He knew emotions could complicate things but all those he experienced didn't really make life seem less simple. You live and you die. People live and they die. You try your hardest to live the longest you can... but then you die. Simple right?


    Gabriel was in full hipster denim, rocking black converse, smooth as fuck hair, everything was perfect. The bastard hadn't seen his Timestamp in awhile because he just didn't pay attention to it... he was too busy feeling good about being weird.

    It was a weird almost fetishlike thing for him to make people look at him funny. His life was simple, all their lives seemed confusing to them. People often think you're weird when you see everything as simple... cause everything can't just be simple right?

    Simple was the way Gabriel walked into the bar that he had meant to get a drink with his boss at. Simple was the way he smoothed his hair and fixed his bowtie. Simple was the way he took a seat at the bar and whirled around a bit like a child before putting his elbows on the counter and smiling at the waitress. Simple was the way he waved and spoke up to the waitress. "Bloody Mary, heavy on the blood please it's been months since I've fed myself." he said jokingly, as if he was cool or something.

    Simple was the way he didn't notice his wrist buzzed as his Timestamp when out. Simple was the way he couldn't place the look Cris had on her face. Simple was the way he just plain barely gave a fuck.


    00/00/00 - 00/00/59​
    The S&G grocery was rather quiet today since most people went to larger named stores to buy their food, not like it cost that much. Jonathan was flitting around putting food on the shelves with a placid smile on his face. Completely oblivious to his current situation concerning his Timestamp.

    He hadn't taken a look in months really. I mean it was there, but he never really LOOKED. Being so gosh darn apathetic bout it half the time meant his attention just never focused on the damned watch thing. It'd go off one day and he'd meet someone he was supposed to fall in love with right? Well when it happened it would happen and then fun would be had... right?

    Jonathan took a break from putting Chef Boyardee up on the shelves to go grab some water for a tickle in his throat when he caught glance of his hand. He looks at it for a moment and brought it up closer to his eyes and gradually drifted his vision to his Timestamp peaking out from under a bracelet. Jonathan put his wrist up in the air and shook it a bit so the bracelet went up his arm. He looked back at the timestamp and turned ghostly white and feeling his knees buckle.

    This couldn't be happening. Not here. Not now. Not today. HOW was this happening? HOW had he missed the time? WHAT WAS HE THINKING NOT CHECKING IT.

    A moaning noise rose in his throat as he let out the groan of a lifetime, a giant "ugh" filled with every bit of angst he had left from his teenage years that he roared to the ceiling like some kind of cell phone signal saying "HEY SOULMATE I'M RIGHT HERE". Jonathan proceeded to rip a line of Chef Boyardee off the shelf in some weird sad rage before he span around and fell with weak knees into an innocent passerby just as a vibration shook his wrist.

    They had just met and Jonathan was already listening to his soulmates heartbeat and for a brief second he was absolutely fucking terrified of what that meant.

    Oh hey it was a dude. Their parts fit for the moment.​
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  6. [​IMG]
    Nicholas Keahi

    Nicholas' day started with the ringing of his phone. As he lay in bed listening to the damned thing trill and trill over and over again, he thought about what would happen if he just didn't pick up and went back to sleep. His boss would probably yell at him if it was in fact a work related thing. And on the other hand if it was Gabe, then he would forgive Nick for not picking up.

    But really. He couldn't risk it if it was a work thing.

    "'Lo?" He murmured, still a bit groggy hence the informal greeting.

    "Nick, I screwed up." A boy's voice whispered into the phone. Nicholas nearly shot out of bed and began searching for a clean pair of pants and shirt before even hearing the rest of the message. "I was doing real good, with you know not getting mad at my mom when she yelled at me, but I just lost it today. Nick, I'm really really sorry." The boy blubbered.

    "Hey, hey, Shawn, calm down. Tell me exactly what's up and where you are and we'll figure it out, okay?" Nicholas said, in a soothing tone. He heard a big sniffle on the other end and he could just imagine the stocky boy in tears on the phone. Shawn had anger management issues but only when he was yelled at, and his mother who was a working woman, was always stressed and tended to take her frustrations out on him. When Nicholas had first started counseling the kid, he had tried to push for the boy to live with a less aggressive relative, but Shawn had pleaded with him to allow him to remain with his mother. Not wanting to upset the boy too much, Nicholas had relented, but he'd never liked the kid's mother. She was a real piece of work.

    "I'm a the s-station, and I-I threw a vase and when it broke some of the pieces hit her, and she c-called the cops." Shawn whispered between sobs.

    "Shit...Okay, hang tight buddy, I'll be down there in less than thirty." Nicholas said and hung up after hearing the boy respond.

    This wasn't good. If his mother called the cops that was a definite sign that she didn't want him. And if she decided to have him sent to juvie... Nicholas knew that Shawn would only end up worse in a facility like that.

    It took Nicholas less than twenty minutes to get to the station, so he surprised the cops who had Shawn handcuffed to a chair and where gathered around him. Nicholas could tell by their uneasy expressions that he interrupted their attempts to prod the kid into admitting to something he did do. Nicholas glowered at the handcuffs and then at the cops. "Is that necessary? He's not a runner." He snapped.

    "Kid would stop struggling when we got to the scene. It's only 'till he settles down." The first cop grunted. Nicholas cocked an eyebrow at Shawn, who hung his head.

    "...was just trying to apologize to my ma." He mumbled and Nicholas sighed.
    It took awhile but at the end of it, Shawn was released into the custody of the Youth Counseling Organization and taken to the group home in the suburbs. He wouldn't be sent to juvie, but his mother didn't want him living with her anymore so they had to contact his grandmother, but Nicholas had a good feeling about that. He had met the old woman and even though she had a tendency to overfeed people, she had a good heart, unlike her daughter in law.

    After saying goodbye to Shawn, Nicholas set out to do what he had planned to that day--Get his ex-wife's name off of his back. Well, not really. He didn't have money for a tattoo removal, but he was hoping that this tattoo parlor that he was heading to would be able to turn it into something--anything else.

    As he drove to the parlor, Nicholas hummed to the song on the radio and tapped his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. Something caught his eye and he nearly drove right into a telephone pole.

    00/00/00 - 00:45:37

    "Oh my god." He whispered, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation. And as he drove the numbers kept ticking down, and he began to get a little worried. What if his soulmate didn't like him? What if he wasn't impressed? Should he go back home and change into his best suit? Should he get a haircut? He shook his worries away, and gripped the steering wheel tight. No. He shouldn't try to be someone else. His soulmate just had to accept him the way that he was.

    -- -- -- --
    -- -- -- --

    Xiomara Castillo

    "My wife is probably wondering where I am. I was supposed to be home an hour ago with the eggs..." The dorky looking man with the box frame glasses and pimply face stammered. Xiomara pursed her lips and ran her fingers down his chest. "Oh hun. We both know that if you really wanted to get back to your wife, you'd be at Safeway getting a dozen and not here with me sipping a bourbon flip." She purred and a bead of sweat trickled down the man's face, teetered on the tip of his nose and dripped on to Xiomara's upper lip. She cringed inwardly and resisted the urge to wipe it, instead she let it stay there and eventually run down her face. The man's gaze followed the droplet, where it landed between her breasts.

    "Come on, let's dance." She said, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him onto the dance floor. She gyrated and grinded her hips against him, while he awkwardly shuffled in place. But suddenly, he let out a startled gasp and grabbed her wrist. "Hey! What's the big deal?" She snapped as he practically brought her wrist to his face and then showed her.

    00/00/00 - 00:02:56

    "Oh don't worry about that hun, it's nothing." She said, moving in to dance with him again but he backed away.

    "That means your soulmate is nearby. I shouldn't--we really shouldn't--"He stammered glancing around nervously as if he 'soulmate' was going to jump out and punch him. She rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't? Your timers been at zero for weeks and we've been doing this longer." She laughed. "What so now mines close and you don't want to 'dance' anymore?" Dorky man, shook his head vigorously. "I have to go!" He squeaked and pushed his way through the crowd leaving her alone. Xiomara pursed her lips and regretted the day she got the stupid timer. This was actually the third time the thing had cock blocked her. Damn hypocrites. She thought, before striding over to the bar where a man who had been eyeing her for the past few hours, was standing.

    "Hey cowboy, wanna dance?"

    #6 Mundane Monster, Jul 14, 2015
    Last edited: Jul 19, 2015
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  7. Circe Kensington

    00/00/00 - 00.00.10

    Anxiously counting down her seconds Circe wondered what her soul mate would be like. Her imagination, and her dream soul mate, would be someone who was the whole package, the real deal like she was. Handsome and rich, with a bright and promising future, one who was going to make it and take over the world if they just had the ambition for it. It would be even better if that someone was someone of her age, not too old and wrinkled, but neither so innocent that it would pain her eyes just to stare at their 'holy pureness'.

    It was clear that it was none of the men Circe had ever been with fitted that description. Albeit all of them were rich, and surely at one point handsome as well, they had all withered and wrinkled tremendously. It would be a shame to put her beauty at waste next to them if she already had two of the three simple, for her simple, requirements. Handsome, rich and young, it was all she asked, but alas, she had no luck of meeting such a man yet. It made her fear that they might not exist and that her soul mate thus ended up to be one of these boors inside of the bar she was waiting at. Unfortunately her fears were about to come true as her watch was slowly ticking down to zero, making her fidget anxiously.

    "I believe you're waiting for me, doll," a smooth voice spoke behind her. Cocky and deep, Circe immediately judged them to be male and her client, so probably old as well. Turning around the woman planned to smile seductively at him, but just as they were about to face each other her timer went off, vibrating against her skin. Zero count had been reached.

    Freezing the female's face turned into one of surprise as she stared at the face of her supposed soul mate. Not to mention this supposed soul mate of hers was a client as well. Feeling her eyes twitch a little the heiress couldn't believe what was happening to her. Was her fate, Circe Kensington, envied by all because she had it all, was she paired up by fate with this old man?! A look of disgust crawled over Circe's face as she couldn't hide her contempt of the thought that she had him as her soul mate. This must be a joke.

    "Circe Kensington," the woman drawled as she forced herself a smile. "And you, grandpa, must be my client, no?" she continued, feeling that her confidence was flooding back again. Yes, this must be a joke, it was just a morbid joke. Even fate couldn't be that cruel, right? Circe pushed the thought of her timer away, blaming its new technology that it carried for being 'young'. It still had it's children's diseases that it needed to work out. All she had to do was go back to the company, ask for a refund and then demand a new one tomorrow. For now she was the muse, the sugar girl of this old man.

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  8. Erika

    Well, do you agree? Is fate unstoppable?

    To be honest, up until this very point in her life, she had never thought to completely on fate. Sure, she decided, something must pull the strings. Or these little things on their wrists wouldn't make much sense, would they? Then again, did one have to let a little mark on their wrist decide everything. Or even more, did one have to let something unseen, something uncontrollable, something they couldn't even prove existed, map the path of their whole life. That just didn't seem to practical to her. Besides, she had heard a saying before... 'We decide our own fate.'

    You know,

    She decided.

    I do believe in fate.
    I believe I can chose mine.

    Do you believe in fate, Professor M?

    ...She always was to curious for her own good.


    She waited just outside the lecture hall for those inside to clear out completely, as she had been sitting in the back and had been one of the first out. She didn't want to just sit there and wait, that would have been weird. But, when she thinks about it, hadn't standing just outside been pretty weird too? Either way, it was a little to late to change things and it was time to make her move. She shook out her hands and eyed the professor sitting at the bottom of the empty lecture hall for a moment, before she started down the stairs to join his at the bottom of the sloped room. She tried to step as lightly as possible before she was standing dead in front of his desk in all her bright colorful glory. She opened her mouth and a soft, almost gentle voice came forth to ask,
    "Well professor, do you believe in fate?"

    Her wrist buzzed, it seemed fate had arrived just in time to tell her that while she may have a choice.
    It decided the choices.



    It figured "Drunk-Salem" would pull something like this.

    He wasn't even surprised by the shit he did when drunk anymore, really he wasn't. Though, he was kind of impressed by the damage he had done to his own place. He had taken a sharpie to his bathroom and made the toilet a face. Why "Drunk-Salem" would make the lid the mouth he'll never know, if anything it was just disturbing. He'd at some point decided opening a window and cleaning out his fridge by tossing everything out it was a good idea! He was the tiniest bit miffed by that, he wasn't going to lie. He had even managed to go about turning everything in his bedroom upside down! Which, while a big problem, wasn't the one he was going to take care of first. He was quick to wiggle close from his wrong side up dresser, before showering and getting dressed, in an attempt to make himself presentable in public. He needed to head out to replace the contents in his fridge.

    When left the house, however, he realized that would have to wait.
    He had teepee'd his own tree, using his buddy Mason's hat as a star on top.


    "what hat"
    "i have never seen a hat b4 n my lyf!"
    "what even is a hat?"

    Oh yeah, those texts will convince him.


    He had sent the text, de-toilet paper the tree, and risked his life for the dumb hate in just over and hour. A half hour later you could find his mildly grumpy self wandering about the store carrying a basket full of foods, staring at food facts on the back of a jar of pickles with blurry eyes. Why in the world was this crap so bad for you? Right as the thought crossed his mind a strange noise came from the employee just down the way from him. Turning to face him he sees the boy knock stuff down and fall into him. He drops everything to grab and steady the stranger.

    The containers break.

    Their wrists buzz.

    He can smell rather nice shampoo.

    "...Clean up on aisle us."

    He made a dumb joke. Kill him.



    "Hello! This Is Kimiko Wong, Bridal Consultant. Can I help your dreams come true?"

    She answered with an overly enthusiastic tone, even if she was trying to keep down, what was the worst headache she's ever had, all week. She could afford to answer grumpy and lose business. That absolutely wouldn't do...

    "I have a consultation any moment now, ma'am. May we set up an appointment to speak face to face? ... Yes, ma'am! Is the 24th ok? Absolutely! Thank you for considering me as your consultant!"

    She hung up and reached to rub her temples before glancing to check the clock, she reached out to press a button on her phone to get ahold of her secretary.

    "Williams, is my four o'clock here?"

    "No, Ms. Wong."

    "Keep me posted, Williams."

    "Yes, Ms. Wong."

  9. Cris Knight

    Cris turned back toward the bar to continue her work as a man clad in denim walked through the doors. She smirked at his appearance. Cris' one and only favorite thing about working at the bar was analyzing every customer that walked in; she would have bet anything this guy was laced on some freaky shit, not to mention his demeanor implied he thought that he was the shit. He was probably in here to show off that hair (even she had to admit his hair looked gorgeous) or grace the people with his ever-so-fabulous presence. This was going to be a hell of a long day. She rolled her eyes and braced herself as he approached the bar and sat down.

    "Bloody Mary, heavy on the blood please, it's been months since I fed myself." Cris rose an eyebrow and was about to reply with a snark comment when her wrist buzzed. She dropped the bottle of alcohol she was holding, it shattering all over the floor. The man in front of her looked too preoccupied with his bowtie and seemed to not understand what was happening. Her heart beat ten times faster than normal as her eyes slid down to his wrist; his timestamp had reached zero, and he was buzzing too.

    No. No no no no no for God's sake no. Cris immediately dropped to her knees, pretending that she was cleaning the mess behind the counter. In actuality she was freaking out and taking deep breaths. The man seemed to have not noticed that his wrist was buzzing. Hers wouldn't stop. She clasped a hand over the zeros on her wrist and grit her teeth so hard that her jaw began to ache. She could still bolt. He hadn't noticed, he hadn't said anything, she could still run. Cris looked up and was about to crawl toward the back exit when a pair of legs stepped into her line of vision.

    "Cris, what are you doing on the floor?" Amanda, one of her co-workers, said and took her hand, pulling her up before she could protest. Amanda noticed the zeros and buzzing on her wrist and then glanced at the hipster at the bar. Cris ferociously shook her head, begging for silence. Instead, her co-worker squealed and clapped her hands. "We've got the meeting of two soul mates on our turf, folks! Drinks on the house!" she announced to the whole bar, pushing Cris out from behind the counter. A few people hollered while others ignored the exclamation. "I'll tell the manager, Cris, you can take off early tonight. Go and enjoy yourself!"

    Before she could comprehend what was happening, she was sitting next to the denim-clad man. If he hadn't noticed before, he had to know now. And now she couldn't run. Cris swallowed, her lips in a straight line as she ordered her own drink, "Vodka cranberry. Heavy on the vodka." She then breathed deeply through her nose before turning to face her "soul mate."


    Nate Burchett

    "And you, Grandpa, must be my client, no?"

    Grandpa. Grandpa? That was a first. Nate had been called quite a few things in his thirty years on earth, everything from "sweetheart" to "jackass" to "fucking bastard." The closest thing to Grandpa he'd been called was "Daddy", and, well, the girl had screamed it more so than just spoken it. That had been a first too, but not nearly as wounding and surprising as Grandpa. Nate rose an eyebrow as he took a seat next to Cecilia- Cici- whatever- and pursed his lips. "Yes, but no need to get hasty, sweetheart," he started slowly, clasping a hand over his wrist.

    By a single once-over he could tell she was a spoiled, rich, arrogant bitch- or, in other words, the most exciting kind of conquest. Nate couldn't tell if she was stupid, though, because she seemed completely unfazed by the buzzing of her timestamp. By the sparkle in her eye he could tell that she wasn't dumb, though; she was just in denial. Huh. He could have fun with this. "Because apparently I'm your soulmate too." He extended his hand and moved his Rolex so that she could see the zeroes on his wrist.

    "Nathaniel Burchett. But a pretty face like you can call me Nate," he said softly with a smirk on his lips as he extended his hand. Already he knew she was going to be difficult, but damn, the government or fate or God or whatever had done him a favor because she was stunning. Now all he had to do was convince her that threesomes were healthy for a couple and all of his dreams would come true. Or, you know, convince her he wasn't actually an old wrinkled man who smoked cigars and slept with anything that moved.

    He was a fit, sexy 30 year-old man who smoked cigars and slept with anything that moved. There was a very big difference. "And here I was thinking my night was going to be boring."


    Sam McClelland

    "Well professor, do you believe in fate?"

    Sam looked up just as his wrist began to buzz. He froze as his eyes met the wild head of hair standing in front of him. For a long moment there was dead silence as he stared at the woman, his throat drying up, though not because she was beautiful. She was his student. He'd noticed her a couple of times in the back during today's lecture (because really, who could miss her?), and now...now she was the reason his timestamp had reached 00:00:00. This couldn't be happening to him. Sam closed his eyes for a brief moment, remembering a moment that occurred a little over a year ago.

    Today was the day. He was going to tell Marcy about his timestamp. He'd been hiding it for too long, and he just couldn't do it anymore. A marriage was nothing without honesty, and there was nothing in this world he treasured more than his commitment to his wife.

    She was walking out of the bathroom, her brunette hair loosely tied back. There was a flush in her cheeks, and Sam fell in love with her all over again like he did every morning. She was beautiful, more radiant than the sun, and she had to know.

    "I need to show you something," he said softly. She smiled and walked toward where he was sitting on their bed. "Yeah, what do you need to show me?" she said with a small smirk, straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Her skirt was riding up on her thighs, and Sam had to grit his teeth to stay focused. He painfully leaned away from her touch, and when she recognized the solemn look on her face, she frowned. "Sam, what is it?"

    His arm was shaking as he rose his wrist and rolled up his sleeve. Marcy looked at the numbers, her face completely blank for a moment. She glanced back at her own zeroes before looking back up at him. Her eyes were glassy, and in that instant his heart shattered.

    Sam opened his eyes before the memory could go any further. The subdued, silent hatred he'd felt toward his blank-faced soul mate for the last year suddenly uncovered itself. She now had a face, and a voice, and a mind, and she was asking him if he believed in fate. And his wrist was buzzing, and her wrist was buzzing, and the air around him was turning red. A deep, fiery anger blossomed in his heart as his lips thinned and he looked straight into the eyes of the woman he loathed most in the world.

    "No, I don't," he said coldly. "Your paper is due tomorrow morning." He stood up, gathered his things, and walked past her without a backwards glance.​
    • Love Love x 2
  10. "Cheesus Chrusto she's the Hen"​

    Gabriel got a very dumb look on his face after the bartender dropped the bottle of alcohol she was holding and fell to the floor to clan it up. Did she actually believe him? Nah she couldn't have, nobody was that superstitious... but still... something scared her and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He scratched the back of his neck as he watched her with a small, kind-hearted smile, hoping she wasn't embarrassed or anything maybe it just slipped out of her hand right?

    Gabe was about to give her some kind yet ambiguous words of encouragement when the other bartender picked her up, seeming to give the girl a fright right before the bomb was dropped.

    "Wait what the devil?!" He said, dumbfounded as she furiously tried to keep her composure as she ordered a drink and sat next to him. Something about this moment electrified him but words wouldn't come out of his mouth as he was trying to say something. "I-I uh. Well uhm... Hello there Princess, looks like we're stuck like hot tar to an invader huh?" he said, immediately biting his tongue. NOW WAS NOT THE TIME TO BE WEIRD GABE! he kept thinking to himself as he realized he wasn't getting his drink anymore and he really wanted some strawberry and liquor but he couldn't really say much now could he? It'd be kind of rude.

    "So... Vodka... nice choice, sounds like you wanna spend the night drunk." He said in a happy-ish tone. "Want me to get drunk too? We can have embarrassing drunk sex and run off to Vegas to get married next week." He suggested before adding. "That was a bad joke... forgive me I never thought about what I'd do in this situation."

    "Well... other than embarrass myself."


    "I...I... WHAT?!" Jonathan yelped, suddenly propelling himself off of his new soulmate and taking a few deep breaths. "I-I-I'm sorry, I figured this would be different. I'm a mess, I haven't had my daily shower, I just screwed up this isle... oh fuck my boss is soooo going to fire me." Jonathan rambled, turning around and around to look at the mess around him and try not to vomit from the sudden amount of stress welling up inside of him.

    Then he stopped. He stopped still, closed his eyes, took one more deep breath and suddenly everything was calm. He looked back at his new found... love(?) and gave a small almost non-existent smile as he looked the stranger up and down. Good looking, nice hair, probably recovering from a hang over from the way he carried himself. Actually... the guy seemed pretty rugged and that kinda worried Jonathan. Was this guy okay? Yes, he had to be okay.

    "I'm Jonathan Seele Hill, I'm a guy and I have lady parts." he said with a slightly bigger smile. "I'm the guy who's gonna fuck you up." he joked sarcastically trying to keep his laughter at bay. "Your name is?" he asked, kicking a can of Chef Boyardee away from his foot as he saw people on both ends of the isle look into it with eyebrows cocked, seeming to understand what had just happened.
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  11. [​IMG]
    M A S O N P H E O N I X

    Literally ten minutes left. Mason had stopped sketching as he watched the number tick down to zero. He stared wide eyed at the number, feeling slightly nauseous. Everyone talked of Mason as such a chill guy. And he was, nothing exactly bothered him except for himself. He got insecure everytime love or soulmates were mentioned, and now he had to meet his own.

    "Hey Mas!" His co-worker bobbed his head from the main desk, "We're gettin' some guy who needs a name covered up. Poor fella', I bet the stamp fucked him up..." The co-worker shook his head as he went back to typing something up.

    Oh God... Mason laughed awkwardly before swallowing. Recently he had covered up a lot of names, but today was different. The man began working up ideas for cover-ups on paper as he heard the little bell over the door ring. That could be her.

    "Yeah man, we do hourly-" Mason heard the voice coming from the front desk, "I tell ya' what, I'll pass you over to my main man Mas. Hey Mason!" Mason looked down at the seconds left on his clock, this was it. "Coming!" He called back as he walked out.

    Mason stood out and stopped in his tracks, "Hey, I'm Mason." He smiled, just as he felt a buzz.

    But... This was a man?

    T A S H O ' C O N N O R

    Jason had picked her up from her office, in his best suit. She smiled at him forcefully. It upset her so much that he wasn't her soulmate. Tash cared so much about him but just, wasn't in love. Her time slowly ticked away as she walked next to him. She undid her hair and put on sunglasses as they drove to the place.

    No matter how much she breathed slowly, her heart was bursting against her chest. Today was the day she meets her soulmate. Would she break it to Jason? No. She wanted to be with Jason, even if she wasn't in love with him

    The couple strutted into the building, the secretary greeted them happily, "O'connor's! Please, Ms. Wong is waiting for you." Tash smiled happily as she put her sunglasses onto her head as she followed the secretary. She wasn't brave enough to check her clock, but last time she checked she didn't have long.

    Jason looked over to her, "It's like we're getting married all over again."

    D O R I A N S T O R M E

    The bartender was a young woman, who obviously was not too happy with him. Why was that? He frowned as she chucked his money back, drunkingly attempting to figure out what he had done. Ladies usually loved him. He glanced at her wrist, recognizing she might of mistaken him as her soulmate, "Don't look so offended." He gave her a joking grin. It didn't buzz, so he assumed it meant nothing.

    The time meant nothing to him either, his soulmate was gonna have to understand he was not interested in commitment, whatever the time told him. When the drink slid down to him, he picked it up, "To Timestamp!" He laughed as a joke before completely downing the drink and turning around.

    Oh, Dorian pouted when he noticed his new partner had left the corner they were in. Oh well, Dorian turned to go into the crowd, but a beautiful young woman stopped him. Did he wanna dance? Hell yeah he did. Dorian grinned, about to say something, when he felt a buzz.

    "Oh shit." The words probably weren't complimentary, but he looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights, "Still wanna dance?" He forced a smile. Hopefully she wasn't expecting a knight in shining armour. Dorian was more like an idiot in tin foil.

    #11 King, Jul 16, 2015
    Last edited: Jul 16, 2015
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  12. Circe Kensington
    Scoffing a little Circe knew exactly what was going through his head. He was confident all right. Confident, handsome and most probably rich, for he wouldn’t be able to afford her company otherwise. However, that was where it stopped, he was too old for her, too old for her taste and that was how far Circe really wanted to think about their relationship. This was purely business, no matter whether their watched had buzzed at the same time or not.

    “Oh, lucky me,” the female sang, but she rolled her eyes as to show that she meant it sarcastically. What was he getting excited about? Surely he must have believed that he hit jackpot, and he surely did with Circe, however the woman felt far from it. This was a degradation, a humiliation, a pie shoved into her face by fate. A special delivery and irony. How many of these men had she dated? The woman didn’t bother to remember each one of them, as long as they had money. They were the same anyway, all of them were. Rich and arrogant, thinking that they could buy everything and anything they wanted, though this as partly true. However, above all, these men also shared a common sin with each other. They all lusted for young girls like Circe and she, just like these young faces, abused this fact. After all, she knew that her looks weren’t going to stay forever and she was forever short on money.

    “And here I was thinking my night was going to boring,” the male mused at her, checking her out from head to toe. A look and examination Circe had grown accustomed to. Smirking a little, her slim hand hit some loose strands of hair to the back. “You aren’t as promising as you look if you’re already this excited,” she replied curtly, ignoring the fact that he had shown her his watch, that it had also reached the zero count. No, surely this was a defect, she believed, and for so long as she hadn’t gained confirmation yet that it was otherwise Circe was going to believe such.

    Taking the arm of her client to cross her own, Circe then lifted her chin up to the male. Silently she commanded him to lead the way to whatever party it was he wished to have her presence for. For whatever reason he had hired her for the night. “Now, grandpa, don’t play cheap and behave as a gentleman should do,” she told him mischievously, a twinkle in her eyes. She knew these type of men, they were all out for one thing, all lusted for the same. However she wasn’t going to give it to them so easily. No, Circe knew that they were desperate enough to pay up. That if they had it in their pocket. The female smiled at herself as she wondered how far she could go before she had milked this one out.

    #12 Nemopedia, Jul 17, 2015
    Last edited: Jul 17, 2015
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  13. [​IMG]
    Nicholas Keahi
    When he arrived at the tattoo parlor, his stamp had reached ten minutes and the seconds were a blur as they changed. With each step the minutes slowly decreased. He felt like doing the whole '5, 4, 3, 2, 1 Blast off!' that astronauts did before they were launched into space. He took a moment before entering the shop, fixing his hair in the windows reflections and popping a mint into his mouth just in case his breath stunk a bit. When he stepped inside he had a momentary freak out because he really really had no clue what he was going to say, but when the front desk receptionist/tattooist started talking to him he found that he could carry on a normal conversation. Okay, this is going to be fine. This is going to be o-kay. He thought, a bit relieved when his stamp didn't buzz upon coming into contact with the receptionist. He wasn't that ready. And he didn't want to stare at his soulmate and then run back out the door.

    He glanced down at his stamp and saw that it was at only three minutes. Three minutes! Less than five minutes until he met his true love! The man he was going to spend his life with! Or woman...Oh God, what if it was a woman? He didn't know how he would deal, he was pretty sure he was gay after all, but he'd known a lot of gay guys who had ended up with women.

    He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the guy calling for the other tattooist until the buzzer on his wrist jolted him out of his mind. He stared wide eyed at the green haired man standing in front of him--Mason--who looked just as surprised as him.

    Nicholas stepped forward quickly wanting to reach out and hug the guy, but not wanting to freak him out.

    "Hi, I'm Nicholas." Was all he could muster.

    Xiomara Castillo

    Xiomara remembered the exact moment when she had gotten her TimeStamp. She'd been with her ex-best friend, Aimee and she's been saying that she didn't really care for the stamp, and that she'd just wanted it to help her in her quest to find a loaded guy. She'd said that as soon as she felt that buzz she would hook her claws into her new 'purse' and begin the princess treatment. She'd said she'd give him the lowdown about how that they definitely weren't exclusive and that the TimeStamp didn't mean shit...
    When her stamp buzzed in that bar in front of that guy, she froze. One minute she was on a roll, a little tipsy but sober enough to stand upright and feeling giddy. The next minute all the sounds and people around her sounded muffled and she couldn't think of a thing to say. That is until some drunk idiot careened into her and jolted her out of her stupor. Her lips curled back into her trademark smirk and she fixed the guy with an expectant look.

    "That depends on what you are. If it's anything that required less than a masters get lost." She sniped.

  14. Erika

    She freezes. Oh no. No, no, no! She wasn't having this. There was no reason for this.

    She whirled around in a blur of golden curls, "Wait, sir, oh my goodness, please wait! I do! I believe in fate; I believe fate gives us choices, and what defines us isn't fate itself but what we chose to do with the choices it gives us. And right now your making the choice to walk away and i'm making the choice to ask you not too! I'm not asking you to like me, of course. But I'm asking you to not walk away from me! These marks on our wrists say were soul mates. And I intend to give it a shot, sir! I'm not asking you to fall in love with me, honestly I don't see myself falling in love because my wrist tells me to. But it tells me there, there, well diddly darn it I don't know! But it says there is something. So, so I'd like to talk to you. To be friends! At least. So, please, sir. Don't walk away from me. Give me a shot." She's already preparing to sprint after him if he doesn't turn around, to be completely honest.



    He blinks slowly like processing this, but with in a blink of an eye a charming grin lit up his face. "Hello, Jonathan Hill the guy with the lady bits. i'm Salem Grant the guy your going to fuck up." He glanced at the floor. "Also the guy who helped make a bigger mess of the floor." Without a second thought he dropped down to his knees and started to pick up unbroken cans and placing them on the shelf just to get them off the floor.

    All the while the little voice inside his head is throwing the biggest pity party of it's life. Who the hell was this guy? This wasn't Emily. Why couldn't it have been Emily? He didn't Want a soul mate he wanted her. His mind began to supply day dreams that it had in fact been her he bumped in to. She'd smile and laugh saying it had all been one mean joke gone to far. And he'd forgive her.

    He shook his head violently to try and clear his head before peeking up and this Hill guy. ...He was cute, he supposed. Not overly manly, but not necessarily feminine. A happy medium that at one point in life Salem would have admired for it's beauty. He supposed their were worse soul mates to have, at least he seemed to be good humored.



    Right as Kimiko shook two Tylenol from a little bottle she had retrieved from the locked drawer in her desk the phone on her desk buzzed. Her secretary, Williams, spoke in a cheerful voice. "Your 4'o clock is here, Ms. Wong. May I send them up?" The sudden arrival (though planed and not to sudden) made her curse silently to herself, before dry swallowing the pills. Reaching over she cleared her throat and pressed the button, "Yes, please. Thank you for good work today." She let the button go and checked her reflection in the window. Patting down her hair she lowered herself back into her desk chair and fished out a over stylized, almost girly, notepad. She then raised from the chair and headed to the door to greet them there.

  15. [​IMG]
    M A S O N P H E O N I X

    So his soulmate was a man? Mason blinked as he stared at the older guy, who looked just as shocked as he did. He had been dreading meeting his soulmate and now it was actually happening. The way he imagined it obviously was not correct.
    His eyelashes fluttered as he looked over to the receptionist, who hadn't noticed with his earphones on. "T-This way then..." Mason turned around and looked down to the zero's on his wrist, tapping it lightly just to check.

    "So, uh... Wanna show me this tat..?" Mason tried to pretend it wasn't happening. His eyes were wide as he looked over his soulmate. He was tall and built, kind of intimidating to the shorter male. Mason sat down back to his desk chair and pushed away a lot of pens and paper, to get a new sheet. He saw he had a couple of messages from Salem. Wait until I tell him about this, Mason thought. He kept his eyes fixed down, confused and downright scared, too much to try to confront his problem.

    T A S H O ' C O N N O R

    As they made their way through the doors of the office, Tash looked at the pristine woman sitting in her desk chair. She looked classy and neat, kind of like herself. Jason strided over with his hand out to shake her hand and Tash followed. Jason began to introduce himself and Tash stood docile next to him. She smiled at the ground before Jason sat down, finishing his speech. He was always so forward with people, unlike Tash who was a little more conserved.

    "Hello Ms. Wong, I'm Natasha." She gave a bright smile as she leaned over to shake her hand. Then, a buzz. No way. Tash coughed loudly over the sound of the buzzing, terrified Jason would hear. Tash eyed the woman, almost harshly as to tell her to keep quiet. God, who placed her with a woman? Tasha had no issue with being with a woman. But the woman who was renewing the vows of her and her husband? That was an issue.

    Tash sat down quickly and stared at the ground, only forcing a smile when she had to.

    D O R I A N S T O R M E

    When his new soulmate remarked on his status, his face lit up. An usual reaction to such questions, but Dorian was both rich and carefree about it. If she wanted money then he didn't mind spending on her, as long as she realized he wasn't gonna be her one and only. He was more of a one and two more sort of guy.

    "How does P.hD and M.D sound to you?" Dorian asked with a grin. His job made him seem awfully prestigious, which was an easy way to get the people with their pants off. "Good? Good." He had to shout louder as the people at the bar started screaming, "Looks like we're not the only ones. Eugh.." He slurred before turning to her, "Dr. Dorian Storme." ​
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  16. Cris Knight

    Her drink quickly arrived, thank God. She took a large gulp as the man next to her began to speak. The alcohol burned her throat on the way down, and she was thankful for the distraction. His words became a buzz in the air as she closed her eyes tightly and tried to magically teleport back to her house. Please, just let this be a fucking nightmare. When she opened her eyes she was still sitting at the bar, the man with the bow tie going on about hot tar and sex and marriage. She stared at him, unable to form words for a moment.

    Really? This is what the fates had decided to stick her with? He was attractive, sure, but if she had to have a soulmate, couldn't he have just been...fucking normal? Cris glanced at the door, wondering what would happen if she still ran. She didn't want this. She hated this. She couldn't do this. Not with him, not with anyone. She moistened her lips, about to tell him that the government had made a terrible mistake when he apologized for his jokes.

    I never thought about what I'd do in this situation. She smiled softly before she could help herself. The truth was, she'd never thought about it, either; she'd thought about the numbers ticking down and her time running out, but she'd never actually considered what she'd do when she and her soulmate came face-to-face. Maybe the guy was rambling because he was nervous, but it didn't particularly matter; Cris didn't want a soulmate. It was just a simple as that.

    She took a deep breath and another sip of her drink before turning to the man at her side. "You're not embarrassing yourself. You're just...look, I don't want...this," she stammered, making a strange hand gesture between them. "I don't want to have drunken sex with you, and I don't want to get married ever. I don't want you." Cris shook her head, realizing how she must have come across. "I mean, not just you- anyone- I don't want- anyone. I don't want a soul mate." Honesty was always the best policy, right? The guy seemed harmless enough, and she hoped he would just back away and leave her alone. "So I'll get you your drink, but that'll be it, okay?

    Nate Burchett

    His eyes narrowed as she began to speak. Well, she was a bitch, wasn't she? Usually the women he hired were only pretending to be bitches and were just as desperate for him as he was for them; but this Circe girl was something entirely different. "You aren't as promising as you look if you're already this excited." That made him chuck humorlessly; she certainly had a quick tongue, and he could picture a thousand scenarios in which she used it to benefit him. Insulting him wasn't one of them.

    "Baby, you've got no idea what's coming for you," he said in a sultry voice, lowering his eyebrows. The smolder always worked on brats like her, but Nate was left dumbfounded as she remained unfazed and simply crossed her arm under his and called him grandpa again. He pursed his lips, suddenly at odds with himself. There wasn't even a hint that she was interested in him- unless she had some strange "old man" fetish- and it boggled his mind.

    He stood up and began walking back outside toward the limousine waiting for them. "Is there something I'm missing? Since when did 30 become the new 75?" he mused, glancing over at her. She had to be over eighteen, though Nate had already forgotten her age. "What should I call you- little girl? I mean, I'm not into roleplaying that much, but if that's your kink..." he trailed off, smirking broadly. Maybe she was just testing him, trying to get under his skin. Still, he couldn't let go of the fact his timestamp had run out, and both of their wrists had buzzed. If she thought she could live in denial about it, she was wrong.

    "After all, we're going to have to learn how to please each other. Considering--" he abruptly stopped once he reached the limo, taking her hand and spinning her so her back was against the car. He leaned in close to her neck, breathing down her skin while his hand took hold of her wrist. Nate brought it up to his lips and kissed the zeroes on her skin. He rose his eyes up to meet hers and finished his statement, "The fates have paired us together. You and me, me and you...us."

    Sam McClelland

    She should have just left him alone.

    Sam stopped walking, though he did not turn to face her when she began speaking at a million words a second (at least that's what it felt like). It was his ingrained politeness, courtesy of his Southern mother, that made him stay although every nerve in his body wanted to run out the door. This girl...she didn't get it, did she? He wasn't in denial, he wasn't scared, he wasn't sad; he was angry. And she was just spewing bullshit about wanting to get to know him but not falling in love with him even though their wrists said they were soul mates and it was all just so ridiculous.

    So, please, sir. Don't walk away from me. Give me a shot.

    Sam let out a hard, humorless laugh at her words. He spun around to face her, the briefcase in his hand dropping to the floor. "Do you hear yourself? 'Sir, give me a shot, my wrist tells me there's something here with you, sir, diddly damn fate, sir, just give me a fucking shot.'" He scoffed, not knowing whether to laugh some more at the character in front of him or start yelling. This was a cruel turn of events for many reasons, and he absolutely despised it with every fiber in his being. He blinked, and suddenly the golden-curled student of his was his wife, and he was zapped back into the past again.

    "Why didn't you tell me?!" Marcy wailed, knocking over a lamp.
    "Because I was trying to avoid this! It changes nothing for me, Marcy, nothing!" Sam shouted back. He walked toward his wife and grabbed her by the shoulders to calm her down. He shook her whole frame, cupping her face in his hands so she had to look him in the eye. "You are the love my life. I don't give a damn what some numbers say. I want you, and I will always want you."

    "You can't stop fate, Sam. You can't change it," she whispered. Tears were streaming down her face nonstop, as they had been for the last half hour. He wished he could take it back, he wished he hadn't told her. Marcy placed her hands over his and swallowed. "You're meant to be with someone else."

    "No," he said roughly. "I'm meant to be with you. And you're meant to be with me. Don't doubt that for one second." She opened her mouth to protest once more, but he kissed her with all the passion he could muster before she could. She froze for a moment but then she kissed him back, and they both fell onto their bed.

    He was going to be late to work.

    Sam blinked again and suddenly realized just how torturous his 'fate' was being. Marcy had been classy, sophisticated, mature, a lady...And this, this girl in front of him was anything but. She had to be at least ten years younger than him, and clearly she hadn't learned to mind her mouth. The world had taken his beautiful, graceful Marcy away because he was destined to be with this clown? Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit.

    "Let me make one thing very clear to you," he said softly, walking forward so his face was but an inch from hers. "You are my student. I am your teacher. And that's all we are ever going to be. You don't get to know me, you don't get a shot with me. Never try to speak to me again about this." He stood back and picked up his briefcase once more, pointing toward the door. "Now are you going to walk away, or am I going to have to kick you out of my classroom?"
  17. [​IMG]
    Nicholas Keahi

    Okay so he knew that not all TimeStamp meetings were fireworks and kisses but he'd kind of expected more. More enthusiasm. More smiling. More 'Oh my god's' or even just a blush or an 'eep'. But nothing. His true love. His one and only, was giving him nothing. Maybe he was just very professional? Maybe he was waiting until they were alone to let everything out? Nicholas hoped that was the case as he follow Mason to his desk. He wanted to say something--anything but couldn't. So when Mason asked to see the tattoo, he silently took off his suit jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. He wished that this wouldn't be the first time his soulmate saw him shirtless, but Fate's a funny woman.

    He started to turn around but then froze, feeling like he needed to explain why he had a woman's name etched onto his back in cursive and accompanied by hearts. "I um--I got this when I first got married to my ex-wife. Some stuff happened and we got divorced." He explained, not wanting to bring up the whole 'I'm an ex con' thing until later. "Just so you know. Are you um--are you seeing anybody?" He asked, as he finally turned around. He didn't know what he would say if Mason said that he was dating somebody. Nicholas knew a few people who despite what their stamps said remained with their significant others or spouses. He'd never had any qualms with that but he didn't know how he'd deal if Mason had a boyfriend--or a girlfriend--that he didn't want to part with.

    Xiomara Castillo

    A wider smirk spread across Xiomara's face as Dorian lived up to her expectations. A doctor! Me oh my, has she caught herself a big one! Well the TimeStamp did, but whatever. Now to drop the real bomb. He hadn't seemed to care about her occupation conditions, but telling him that he was just to be her daddy warbucks/trophy boy was something completely different. Although his reaction to the idiots shrieking over another match was promising. "Dr. Storme, I'm Xiomara Castillo and it looks like we're going to get along very well." She purred, and moved forward to order another drink. "A subzero citron nix the garnish." She said, giving the bartender a smile. Said woman stared at her stamp then at Dorian and winced before going to make the drink. Xiomara rolled her eyes and turned back to Dorian.

    "You seem like a sensible man, Dr. Storme. But then again, most men seem like sensible men until this thing," She pointed at her TimeStamp "turns them into raving maniacs. So how are we going to do this? I'll tell you right now, that I want a fancy wedding." She wasn't a complete floozy, and plus she always wanted a fairytale wedding and she would be damned if she didn't get it. "No honeymoon though and definitely no kids." Her mom treated her like shit and that was the only parental figure that she knew. No way was she going to have her own kid and screw it up like her mother did to her. "And I want my freedom to do whatever and whoever I want. Any questions? Comments? Concerns?" She sniped, holding her hand out for the drink the bartender was reluctantly handing to her.

    #17 Mundane Monster, Jul 20, 2015
    Last edited: Jul 25, 2015
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  18. [​IMG]
    M A S O N P H E O N I X

    The shirt came off as Mason looked up. He saw an amazingly built, tanned body. It made his cheeks redden a little as his eyes searched for the tattoo. But he wished his soulmate had tits, really. When Nicholas turned around, he saw the woman's name. Nicholas explained himself, Mason nodded. So he was straight? Or is he bisexual? Mason decided he better start asking some questions if this was his soulmate. "Let me get a um- Picture." He picked up the camera so he could get the tattoo to his lightbox as he was asked the question.

    Well, he better open up. "No." He stood up, focusing the camera on Nicholas's back, "I uh, have only ever had one girlfriend... But her stamp, ran out..." He still got down about it, his girl really was who he wanted to be with. But now, he was faced with his apparent 'real' soulmate. A man.

    "I uh... I don't usually, see men." He looked at the pictures he took quickly then sat back down, biting his lip as he made it clear he wasn't gay. Well, Mason knew for sure he liked girls. Guys were another matter entirely.

    D O R I A N S T O R M E

    "Hit us with another whiskey." He slurred at the bartender before turning back to his newly found soulmate. Hot and non-commital, oh how lucky was he. His smile was short lived when she mentioned marriage. Just as Kimmie told him, he was not build for it. He let her finish before picking up his drink, "Yeah we're not getting married." He said with a stern face, gulping down his whiskey, "I tried that once, turns out I am seriously not husband material." He cocked an eyebrow as he looked back to her. His last wife was disgusted when she found out Dorian was sleeping with men and women left, right and center. But who knew, if he married the female version of himself, what could go wrong?

    "As for freedom, you'll have it totally." He shrugged, blinking heavily as the drink was deepening in his system, "Because I need mine too." Dorian grinned at her, good job TimeStamp.

    "If that works for you, then by hell it works for me." Dorian grinned, setting the glass down, "Now how about that dance?"​
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  19. Circe Kensington
    "Baby, you've got no idea what's coming for you,"

    Letting go of a scoff Circe subtly rolled her eyes a little, craning her neck up to the male. “Circe, call me Circe, and besides from your wallet I’m not expecting anything from you.” She sounded triumphing, honing, almost as if she had already determined that she was the one winning tonight. Though then again, she had never lost before. Certainly not from someone ten years her senior.

    When the man sounded almost hurt at her ‘grandpa’ calling the female smirked again, turning her face a little away as her eyes flashed something of disgust. “Ever since the big three-o' is still a decade away from me,” she teased back, her hand reaching up to Nathaniel’s face as she brushed his cheek a little. “And no, unfortunately you will have to pay me a lot more if you wish to go beyond a pretty doll to show off,” her voice sounded serious as she said this, almost business-like as she then released his arm.

    They had reached a limousine and assuming that it was of the male Circe was about to step into the vehicle when she felt herself be pulled back. Feeling how she was pressed to the car as Nathaniel nuzzled into the crane of her neck. Freezing up Circe’s eyes narrowed a little, not liking how this guy was thinking that he could just own her like that. The agreement was escort to the party and nothing beyond that. That the watch happened to run out while this agreement was ongoing didn’t mean that Circe was going to let herself be jumped on.

    “Whatever fate has decided for you, me, or us,” Circe started to spit in venom, her character turning for a change into the worst. Pushing the male off her the female brushed the wrinkles out of her dress, huffing to herself as she couldn’t believe that this man dared to touch her without consent. Papa was sure to hear of it. “May wait,” was her demand as she straightened herself up. In no way was she going to let herself be dominated by some self-made rich boor who couldn’t keep his belt strapped. She was the boss, the leader and she demanded to be treated as such. Cocking her chin up the female heaved a breath before she opened the door of the vehicle herself and took her seat inside of it.

    “Come and sit,” she commanded the man outside as if it was she who owned the car. However she and he knew both that it wasn’t the case. However, Circe wasn’t about to show herself submissive as she gave the male an arrogant look in the face, one that didn’t tolerate any protest. “While we are on our way we might as well discuss the rules,” she continued, a low growl hiding under her breath as she said this. The Kensington heiress was about to show who was the boss here. Confident that soon this man would be under her thumb the female pushed herself to the side a little so that room was made for Nathaniel to step in.
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  20. [​IMG]
    Nicholas Keahi

    Nicholas was kind of delighted to hear his one and only had only been with one person. But when he uttered his next statement, is soaring heart plummeted. He was..."Straight. You're straight?" He asked, his voice cracking a bit. He knew about people who thought they were straight or gay only to end up with someone of a gender they weren't attracted to. Some of them made it work, but some of them refused to acknowledged the validity of the TimeStamp's judgement. He didn't want Mason to be one of those people. He couldn't...He didn't know how he would be able to deal.

    When Mason finished taking the pictures, Nicholas turned around, debating on whether to put his shirt back on. He did still need to get the tattoo altered, but if things went the way he was thinking they would, he didn't think he'd be able to stay. "So...What do you--what do you want to do about this?" He asked softly, gesturing at their stamps.

    Xiomara Castillo

    Xiomara didn't like to be told 'no'. In fact, 'no' was her least favorite word after 'poor' and 'STD'. But Xiomara was smart, and she knew that to get what she wanted, she would have to be patient. And if that meant letting Dorian think he was in control, she would back off. For now. At least the guy wasn't going to be a sap about the sexual freedom thing and demand to be 'exclusive'.

    "Alright. Let's dance." She said, downing the rest of her drink and leading the way to the dance floor. She began to shake her hips to the beat and make use of those belly dancing classes she had taken. As she gyrated her hips and moved closer to Dorian, she smiled wickedly. "So, Dr. Storme, how about you tell me some things about yourself? What kind of doctor are you, exactly?" She inquired.

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