Vices: A Race **Chapter 003**

All of them ran on coffee. The thing practically almost ran in their veins, save for A who was struggling to get the alcohol out of her bloodstream.

Peters always drank an Americano. True to his North American (the Bronx!) roots, he didn’t want any bullshit with his coffee. Sugar was for sissies and creamer made him roll his eyes. Just give him a steaming cup of espresso diluted with hot water, and he’d be set. Give, drink, done. That was how he did it.

Meanwhile, A liked hers with a bit more flavor. Bitterness repelled her, the tart taste making her want to throw up. It was like her taste in alcohol – give her some flavor, and she’ll relent. This was why she preferred either a Café Mocha or a Macchiato. As long as there was some flavor (sweet, most definitely) she’d take it and drink. When worse came to worse, she’d add in some whiskey or vodka in secret.

And then there was Touta. If Peters wanted it straight and A liked flavor, he’d just step between the two of them and ask for whatever the hell they had. Coffee was coffee – whether you liked it or not didn’t matter, as long as he had his own fill. Others at the office would take a whiff of him and comment that today was a different kind of coffee, a few jokingly saying, “Ah, it’s a Monday so he’s drinking it black.”

He personally didn’t mind, often laughing along as he drank.

Fast forward to the current day. Both A and Touta were patiently (A rather the opposite) waiting for Peters to arrive, both of them knowing that he would always be the last due to intense laziness, wanting an extra large cup of coffee, or cursing the morning traffic. More often than not, it would be the last case.

“He’s late again.”

“Calm down, A.” a slight smirk made its way to Touta’s face, “He’ll be here soon.”

Ari Rants/Reviews: Divergent (2014)

Good evening, dear readers!

I just got home from hanging out with a friend and watching Divergent – but this post isn’t going to be about that. I’ll share next time. However, this is going to be a babble/rant/review on Divergent. I’m not exactly sure where this fits in, but most likely it’s going to be some kind of rant + review thing, you know?

What frustrated me about Divergent, however, was the incredibly fast pace. In all seriousness, I like it when movies are fast. They give details and move on without lingering on other senseless plotlines. As for the film, however, it seemed to fast for me. They gave the details and did move on – exactly how I like it. Sadly, we weren’t really given the time to understand and accept what had just gone on.

Example being the death of Tris’ dad. He goes, shoots, dies. We, the audience, are given minimal time to grieve. Granted that all-out battle and whatnot is going on and that the story requires Tris to move quickly to stop the bad from happening, the fact that he’s merely ‘forgotten’ at the end of it makes me frown. I remember mentioning to my friend, “Oh hey so they defeat the baddies and then Tris seems to forget that outside the room, her dead dad’s lying there. Okay.”

Another thing I really didn’t like was the seemingly lack of connection between actor and character, specifically Four and Tris. Before anything, let me just say that Shailene Woodley’s actually a great actress, and that I bet Theo James is just as great. But…I just didn’t feel it, man. Between Four and Tris, Four seemed to be the stiffer of the two. (Did anyone laugh…no…just me? Okay.)

The romance seemed incredibly rushed, building up too fast, while in the book, you could practically feel the tension running through your veins. One of the finer scenes was the knife-throwing one where Four wounded the bit of Tris’ ear, but aside from that…it didn’t seem much. Even the tattoo-sharing scene was lesser than I expected.

Four’s portrayal was mildly disappointing; it was like he was a blank and cold stone with great tattoos, snark and a hidden personality that would have been great. Granted, the script could have played a role in this and Theo must have done his best to live up to it. Tris, on the other hand, I have less problems with. Shailene did a better job in my opinion, and at least I was able to feel her much more than I felt Four. That, and: damn, girl. I want your hair.

Another thing I feel is that the rules of the Divergent-verse weren't as well-defined and explained. I explained after to my mom that if she watched the film without knowledge of the book, she'd be pretty confused. Well. There was a girl behind me who was explaining a lot to her friend...whether it was plain curiosity or confusion, I wouldn't really know. 

Things I Would Have Appreciated:

·        More emphasis on the Will-Christina relationship

·        More emphasis on the Christina-Tris friendship

·         Edward getting his eye taken out by Peter
·         The other parts of Tris’ aptitude test
·         The Dauntless initiates who actually die on the first train ride
·         Uriah.

Things That Make Up For It:

·         Four’s fear landscape
·         Tris’ fear landscape (especially the water scene!)
·         Tris standing up to Erik
·         Occasional feels during Tris and Four’s scenes
·         The beauty of the tattoos showcased
·         The soundtrack, which is pretty damn amazing.

Overall verdict: As great as the action and romance gets, it doesn’t quite make up for the lack of emotional connection with the characters. However, this is the first out of three, and it can’t always be perfect. I hope that Insurgent will be nicely done (and keep up on the great soundtrack)! Here’s to next year’s Insurgent, and I hope that it’s going to be better. 

Vices: A Race **Chapter 002**

A yawn escaped the chapped, rough lips of a man as he packed away his things, shrugging off his white coat and putting it back inside his bag. The day, he thought, had been rather rough. Things pouring from here and there, and he felt as if the workload over here was just like the workload given in college. Except, of course, with tenser deadlines and whatnot.

The man hummed, running a hand through his dark, brunette curls. Forensic science was shit – not in a bad way, but Macmillan Thomas tended to ponder over his other options. He could have been a businessman, but fuck that, really. Math wasn’t this thing. He was more…scientific.

The lights were too bright. He squinted and fumbled around, dimming them and exhaling a sigh of relief. If that continued, he’d have to register as someone legally blind. But that would be great – the first blind forensic scientist who worked closely with HQ. Hm. Mack wondered if he’d earn more…

Sliding on his jacket and grabbing his large bag, he shuffled out of the office and made his way to the elevators, pressing a button and waiting for it to open –

“Thomas! Oi, Thomas!”

He groaned internally.

‘Please, God. Not another fucking OT.’

“You’ve got the worst timing,” Mack grumbled, turning to see Touta there with a ziplock in his hands. The ziplock screamed death and work and OT. “What now, eh?”

“I came from a new crime scene,” both men heard the ding of the elevator and stepped inside, Mack pressing the button labeled G, “And got this.”

Vices: A Race **Chapter 001**

Touta Matsuda makes his way through the crowd, flashing his ID to the onlookers and seeing them scurry away. Other policemen try to make the crowd leave, others staring with disgust and others taking pictures. The Japanese doesn’t mind this; all he had to do was check out what the hell the commotion was about.

After many years of travelling and investigating, arresting and watching as they were shut away, it almost felt like a routine at this point.

And there it was – the body.

The tape had already been lined around, the chalk carefully there, forming the shape of this newest victim – a woman in a black dress that reached her knees, her eyes wide with shock. She didn’t appear to have any external injuries at all.

“Ah, Matsuda. Pleased to see you here,” Sawashiro greeted him. Touta gave a bow and looked at the victim once more, “Asked my men to get the crowd away. Called you here because this one looked peculiar.”

“Don’t they all seem peculiar, officer?”

“Hah – good one. Take a good look.” He handed Touta gloves and all the gear, the man sliding them on with ease before moving closer and observing the victim’s body. “See anything of use?”

“She doesn’t have any bruises or anything. A few wounds, yes, but because of the ground.” He looked at the pavement, the faint smell of blood rising to his nostrils.

“Keep looking, Matsuda. I’ve fetched the medical team, stuck in traffic they must be…damned bikers and shit taking advantage of the blocked roads.”

He nodded at this and kept looking. Bleached blonde hair, eyes staring widely into space. He closed the eyes of this woman and kept searching, not hesitating to look much further. No bruises, no anything.

An Overindulgence in Drink

Stressful investigations usually prompted her to drink. The bottles could be found anywhere - she had a large number at home (located inside the topmost cupboard in the dining room) with the glasses to match, she hid a few in her office in the hidden nooks and crannies of her desk. She knew it was against protocol, but hell. Peters nicked two one time (and gave the other to Olsen), and Touta nearly told on her for drinking during work hours, even if she locked herself inside the office.

She tried to stop before it would turn into an addiction. She had Touta's eyes on her, Peters casting looks whenever he spotted her with circles under her eyes and no make up on her face. It had been months, long and extremely agonizing months of trying to control it. Even Matt had decided that it was enough. 

Shots were limited to two. Wine was heavily guarded. Even going to bars was to be supervised. As grateful as she was for the help, she couldn't help but feel frustrated. She attempted to smoke to rid of the itch, but goddamn. Those things were terrible and didn't taste how they tasted when Matt would kiss her. 

(He knew that she nicked one. That coughing fit didn't come from nowhere.)

She managed, at least. 

The Better Good

Peters wasn't sure why he kept being assigned to all the gritty things. Drug busts and robberies tired the hell out of him, he was actually shot at a robbery (but at least he was able to save a kid's life) and Peters just wasn't the type. You wanted an actual badass officer? Call on his father. That guy was a veteran. 

But amidst that, Peters had to admits that it felt nice. Servicing the public for the sake of justice was something he liked to do. The reward was great, the feeling of pride was better. Having kids wave at him with large, goofy grins made his manly heart warm. When he was younger, he didn't quite know why his dad would always go to work, except on other special occasions. Hell, he was even out on his and Jake's birthdays, but the two brothers grew used to it eventually. 

One day, he got the nerve to ask his dad why. 

Nathan Peters merely smiled, took a sip of his coffee (black, no sugar) and ruffled his younger son's hair. 

"It's all about doing it for the better good, Sammy."

The better good. He liked the sound of that, many years ago. 

But now, he formed his own reason - his own philosophy, maybe. 

At the end of the day, people go to bed feeling a little safer.

It was a start. 

Ari Reviews: Anna and the French Kiss

Anna is forced to pack up and leave her home, her friends and her cute co-worker Toph - all for a year's stay in the School for America in Paris (or, SOAP). It's Paris - the city of love, bread and art. Who would say no to this opportunity? Sadly, for Anna, it wasn't quite what she wanted. 

But when the smiley-and-apparently-English Etienne St. Clair appears, Anna starts to think otherwise. With nine months in Paris and Etienne driving her nuts (read: he's got a freaking girlfriend!), will Anna get what's right for her?

Hello and good evening, dear readers! Tonight, I'm going to review Stephanie Perkins' book entitled 'Anna and the French Kiss'. I bought it recently along with Trese (which is equally as great!) and was able to read it all in one day. The read more button is there if you'd like to dwell on my review even more!

Small spoilers lie ahead. Please read with caution!

The Foolish Veteran

Years ago, Touta Matsuda was the clown. He wondered how he was able to survive the madness that was Kira, but he figured that it was simply his lucky stars keeping him alive. Prior to the fateful day, he had never shot a man. Others taunted him and called him 'weak', but he didn't have it in him to kill, shoot, or cause harm to anyone else. It went against his moral code. 

Things changed. He eventually did shoot a man (and countless others), got promoted and stopped fooling around. Matsuda - no, Touta - smiled wryly and welcomed new recruits, occasionally taking them out (and eventually taking them home because a certain one of them was in a constant state of drunkenness. He wasn't sure what he did to deserve it.) He led squads and went on investigations often to the north, put in charge of busting drug deals and smuggling, prostitution and all the gory details that went on behind Japan's seemingly calm exterior.

He had one hell of a story. He just wasn't sure if he was ready to tell the tale, even though years had passed and bodies had rotted. 

Matsuda, the fool...now Touta, the veteran. 

He wasn't sure which one he liked less. 

He'd rather stick to Touta Matsuda, thanks. 

Summer Joy + Updates!

Hello, dear readers! I've been posting a lot as of late, and the reason why is... *drumroll*

Say hello to Mr. Ben Whishaw, ladies and gents.

So, yes. It's already the gracious, ever-anticipated summer here in the Philippines, which means I can rest up, write and post as much as I want to. I've been watching the Game of Thrones since two days ago, and I'm already hooked. (Team Tyrion, Daenerys, and Jon!) 

There may be a post about that coming soon, as well as a post regarding female characters and complexity. Aside from that, I've got a few ideas for shorts up my sleeve (one for a TSP AU most especially), and if you've noticed, there's a new page right below my banner. 

A new page? Hell yes.

To put a little backstory, I've just finished the amazing Filipino-made comic series entitled Trese, which I may be posting about sooner or later. Trese was just the thing I needed. Because of its brilliance, I was just able to generally plot the whole skeleton of this new project of mine, entitled Vices: A Race.

There are already graphics I've posted, and two Preludes so far. The Preludes are merely tales and short bits of what has happened before the events of Vices. When I start posting the chapters on here (yes, I'll be doing that) the shorts shift and will be entitled as Interludes. The Interludes will be like mini-stories inbetween the events of the actual story. 

Vices is something that I really want to accomplish. A new member of Squad A is going to be introduced (and his FC is none other than the gorgeous Ben Whishaw), and there's going to be a new case. That's all I'll be spoiling for now. 

Updates about other stories:

• Royal Flush: Total revamp. I'll be rewriting this baby - and with a major twist. After weeks of thinking and writing and plotting, I've decided that the new Royal Flush won't be integrated with the Hetalia Cardverse anymore. Everything will be original.
• Hysteria will be on a small hiatus for now, while I arrange the other stories.
• I'll still be working on the Shoujo Parallels universe! Expect something big in the near future...
• And of course, I won't abandon the Death Note AU that I've been so attached to. 

That's all for tonight! As a bonus, here's a gif that conveys my feelings about the Game of Thrones so far:

But as a friend told me, there is no happiness in that show.

Prelude: Another Day

The sound of a motorcycle roaring outside their home made him smile. Matt sat on the couch, cigarette in his mouth and game in his hand, setting it down and removing the cigarette before blowing smoke in the air. Rats. His girlfriend would chew him out for smoking again –

“Do we have dinner – and why the hell does it smell like nicotine?” the ginger could hear the exasperation in her voice and he quickly disposed of the cigarette, A removing her coat and hanging it by the door. A warm pair of arms wrapped around him, and after she kissed his cheek, she frowned and gave his cheek a poke.

“Sorry, darling. Couldn’t help it…Matsumoto was being hard today. There’s dinner on the table, I made some pasta for us.” She walked to the kitchen to get some, and Matt switched the channel from comedy central to the news. When he heard her coming back, he moved for her and she sat down, setting her glass of OJ on the glass table. Once he heard her start to eat, he began.

“Too much work, I swear. Even I admit, I need a break. He made me do a lot, and…” he bit his lip, “You don’t have to do that.”

She shrugged, having just set her plate down and put her hands on his shoulders. “I want to.”

“Okay. So he,” he sucked in a breath once she started massaging, “is being a big prick. Doesn’t know the meaning of rest. I’ve been running on less sleep, and – please continue, darling – his solution for that is to chug down a mug of coffee or two and continue. Bloody hell. It makes me want to tear my hair out.”

“Can you ask him to bog off a little?” that made him chuckle.

“I’d lose my job if I did. We’re friends, yeah, and we joke around…but this month hasn’t been good for him. Stocks going down a bit. He’s trying to get it back up. You might have noticed the lack of Gatsby-esque parties.” She nodded, and he made a little noise when she got to the more tense areas. “Enough about me. It’s nothing. What happened with you?”

“Finished the report on the last case, pretty much. I had to organize some files, though. They’re a mess.” She held back a shudder and worked on his back, “From 2010 to 2014. If they don’t get someone good sometime soon, I might have to file them myself. I hope I get paid double,” she added, and he grinned.

“You deserve it – and should eat.” She finished up and he kissed her cheek, watching as she picked up her plate and continued eating. “Does it taste good? Tried new spices, lessened the pepper because I know you hate it – and that you like white sauce more than red.”

“You’re sweet.” She smirked and took a sip, “I prefer salty more than sour or whatever.”

“So, more salt?”

“Nah. This is just right.” 

The Science of Realization

It was getting late. Mack had to get home soon enough. 

They had asked him to look up more on the small bottle they had given him, which was still inside the ziplock that frequently hounded his table. It didn't make sense at first - why would the killer have that useless thing inside? What was the purpose, really?

But then, it clicked. A simple snap in his head. Of course.

He analyzed it, looked for pictures and took measurements - everything that he could to identify the object. It was a small bottle, obviously. But what was it for? Why was it there, what would it hold?

His first thought was poison, but he discarded that. There were no traces, no scents, nothing. So he searched deeper, did a little digging and noticed the lightest traces of whatever-the-hell-it-was on the surface. The American put on his gloves and touched it, attempted to scratch it off, even. 

And indeed, it scratched off. He realized what it was - paper. 

Freaking paper. 

It all made sense.

"A. I'm going back home for the night."

"That's fine. Did you find out what it was?"

"Of course I did. Could have taken me ten minutes, but I only got it now." 

He paused for dramatic effect.

"It's a fucking medicine bottle."

Prelude: A Matter of Vice

“An amazing job on the drug bust, Peters. This is going to look nice on your record,” commented A, who looked at Peters with a somewhat proud look in her eyes. Instead of replying in a sarcastic manner, the American had the decency to look a little humbled – maybe a little embarrassed, even.

“Sure hope so. Nearly got shot and almost got my face stuffed into a pot of marijuana.”

“The fact that you just used two common names for cannabis in the same sentence doesn’t fail to amuse me,” snorted the female. “But in all seriousness, good job. It might just clear up your record of assaulting the Dough boy around the corner…but then again, everyone would love to pummel him.”

“Hey, hey – he touches what’s mine, he gets what he deserves.”

“While I do not appreciate you claiming J like an object, I might have to agree.” She stretched and Peters sat on the chair in front of her desk, watching as she yawned and glanced around her office. “Pete, you grew up in Bronx…how were you raised, exactly?”

The American blinked. “You’ve heard my story a million times.”

“I know, I know. The jock gets overshadowed by the council president who moves on to become a doctor. But what I mean is that, did your parents raise you in some kind of faith?”

“You mean religion?” She nodded. “Christian, but I was never the Bible-thumping kind who stuck to the rules. Neither were my parents – they gave the general facts, but never touched on it as I grew up. I’m more of the type of person who believes that all gods are one and the same. Why ask?”

“It’s something that’s been ringing in my head ever since,” she admitted.

“Do tell.”

“So you know the seven vices, right?”

“Deadly Sins? Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

“Right. Pride, envy, gluttony, sloth, lust, greed and wrath. Here’s the main question…which one is the worst?”

This rendered Peters silent.

She always asked the big questions.

“It’s got to be greed.”

Track and Field

"You're worried about being tailed. Again. It's the third time this month."

"Shut your hole, Matt. You're speaking to the CEO of the KM Corporation."

"And who's keeping you alive? I am."

"I'm making sure that your darling keeps breathing. Now shut up."

Speed Limits: An OTP Challenge Prompt

Whenever she had her riding gear on, Matt knew that A had to let off some steam.

So when he glanced up from the newspaper and saw her in full leather, he cocked a brow and allowed himself to smile at the sight of her. “Going for a run?”

Her green eyes flecked towards him and she nodded, briefly looking down to readjust her boots. “Yeah. Work was a bitch. It’s taking me a lot to not physically consume every single bottle of liquor right now.” She was laughing, yet the tense note in her voice made him realize that she was dying for a long ride. Matt nodded himself and set the paper down, rising from the couch and pocketing his phone. “You going out with Matsumoto, baby?”

“No.” a wolfish grin appeared, “Take me with you. On the ride.”

“What? No,” she shook her head and pocketed the keys, “I can’t. That makes two people to worry about now. You should stay.”

“But darling,” A could practically hear the whine, “I want to go with you.”

“J was honestly terrified when I stopped in front of HQ just to pick her up.”

“But that’s J. Under the tough exterior, she’s as soft as cookie dough. I’m harder than she is.”

“Yeah, right.” The Englishwoman rolled her eyes and took the sleek, black helmet. “I’m not kidding you. When it’s dark out – like now – I go out there and abuse the fucking traffic laws…well, at least when the speed limit is pretty high. I ride twenty minutes away and just let go.”

“I can take you.”

“You can’t.”

“No stopping me,” he walked to her and picked up another helmet – her spare – and tucked it under his arm. “I’m going to ride with you, whether you like it or not.”

His girlfriend gave a hard stare. Despite her slim frame and five foot four inches, she could stare anyone down and seem like a six footer. Finally, she heaved a sigh.

“Fine. But you’re going to have to change into something darker and wear that leather jacket I gave you.”

Warning: Delta

"I needed to talk to you, Eridanus."

"Regarding what? I've heard of you. You bring disaster wherever you go."

"This isn't going to hurt your kingdom, I assure you."

"I will haunt you seven times over if you even hurt Costellum, Watcher."

"I have eleven women haunting me already. I can say that I'm used to it."

The Most Badass of the Beta Belt

"Oi, assface. Quit staring and actually make eye contact.
Or these gauntlets will go straight up your system."

"There's some wood over there - get some.
Now, build a bridge and fucking get over it."

Flying High: A Shoujo Parallels AU Short

“That’s not fair. I got my picture of OTP number one,” Elaine Rivers’ finger pointed at Maxine Ride and Liam Edevane, “I need OTP number two.”

At that, the rest of the group turned to Arzen Venura and Mathias Angelo. The ginger just gave them all a stare and took Elaine’s camera, making the smaller girl protest.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “Blondie and Rivers, move closer so I can take a picture of both of you.”

“Hell no, Ginger.” Elaine swiped back her camera, “I meant you and Venura. Now move.”

“E-Elaine–” the rest of the group began laughing as Arzen tried to ‘escape’, “I don’t think–”

Cianna gave a smirk and lifted her own SLR. “Rivers is right, Venura. Get closer to the ginger before any of us does it for you. And by that, I mean push you two together.” Liam began chortling in the background, Maxine just rolling her eyes – and grinning.

“Yeah, before the crowds get in the way,” Gabrielle gestured behind them, where crowds of students were getting hugs and whatnot from the teachers. “Get your asses together! The bus might leave the majority of us bus riders, freaking basic private riders.”

“I won’t–”

Mathias grabbed her from the waist and pulled her closer, making them laugh even harder, some of them (Liam and Daniel) catcalling from the side. “Just hold still for five seconds,” he muttered to her, turning to smile (or smirk) at the cameras. Arzen could only make what seemed to be a pained or embarrassed smile, and once they flashed, he let her go and she smacked him with her thick notebook.

“That was uncalled for!”

“It got them off our backs–”

While the two ‘argued’, Elaine took out the film and squinted at it as the image developed. “How’s your shot, Alrada?”

“Very nice,” she commented, the rest of them peeking at the screen. “I’ll be posting these later. If I’m not that lazy,” and Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

“Knowing her, she’ll do it maybe tomorrow or next week.”

“Hell yeah.”

Caffeiene-Powered

She works herself too much.

Four nights with less than five hours of sleep. When I wake up, it’s the immediately clicking of the keys that fill my ears, and no longer the soft, slow breathing that accompanies the feeling of warmth wrapped around me. Instead of that same warmth, only the cool of the blanket against my skin provides a false comfort.

Coffee lingers on her skin, the slightest hint of vodka mixed. This makes me wrinkle my nose. 

She never took alcohol with her coffee at all. Hunched over her laptop and folders containing papers scattered all over the table, the look in her eyes is almost an exhausted kind of weary that resembles her sleepless, occasionally slumber-lacking nights. Pictures and reports litter the place, a paper stuffed under her coffee mug and a plate of unfinished toast lying on top.

Her immersion with her work is too much – too much, in fact, that when I wrap my arms around her, she doesn’t even move until I kiss her cheek, arms tensing and body stiffening in silent shock until she recognizes that it’s me. At that, she relaxes. I smell the coffee – much stronger, more caffeine than milk and sugar and creamer. The vodka isn’t so prevalent, but I could detect it in the way her fingers twitched, high on caffeine and alcohol.

She doesn’t speak. Neither do I. I just close my eyes and she doesn’t move her fingers, not daring to type another word or sentence or anything else. We stay there, her an ideal image of her profession and me just doing what I had to do. It was unsettling. She occasionally forgot that she was human, that she had needs and needed to fulfill them. When she forgot, she turned into a machine. And when she remembered, she had a hard time transitioning back to human.

Sleepless nights.