TFDC: Day Five -- Camaraderie

Matt and A’s Home
Tokyo, Japan
December 2014
Christmas Day

“Are you honestly sure that it’s alright for me to bring her along, Mack?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. A doesn’t mind guests as long as they aren’t serial killers or those wanted by the law,” the man answered lightly. Jian gave a (tight) smile and glanced around him, Mack noticing that the man was often looking around to see if someone had arrived. “Who’s it, anyway?”

“A dear friend of mine – don’t give me that look,” Jian chastised. Mack had made a face and the Taiwanese other had smirked in reply, “She’s someone I met a few months ago. And no, she isn’t as interested in men as to women.”

Mack gave a mildly guilty smile, his eyes softening. “Right. Be here in thirty?”

“I will. See you.” The call ended and Mack looked up, pocketing his phone soon after. The festivities were in full swing in the living room, the scientist hearing the eager chatter of the rest of his friends.

Touta was watching as A tore open his gift, the Englishwoman gasping in surprise. (“Oh my God, you didn’t have to–” “No shut up, you’ve been pining for that for weeks!”) Kenichi and Peters were talking sports while drinking from their beers, laughing and arguing here and there. Away by the window, J and Matt were having a quiet conversation. Matt had been relaying what had happened to him since he left the Wammy’s, and J was listening while giving input here and there.

Mack, at first, thought of their ‘group’ as rather odd. After all, they comprised of four police agents, one forensic scientist, two businessmen, a bartender and an ex-model. And hell, Mack didn’t even know who the ex-model yet except for the fact that she was a (most likely bisexual) female and an old friend of Jian’s.

“Mack, when’s Jian arriving?” A asked. She and Touta had walked up to him, the former wearing the latter’s gift; a cream-colored cardigan with gold-colored buttons. “So I can prepare a few more drinks for him and his guest.”

“Give it thirty minutes. Nice cardigan by the way,” he added, and A gave a twirl. Touta merely smirked. “Was that the one you spent an hour searching for, T?”

“Might have been the one,” he shrugged. “But it was easy to acquire. Can’t blame me, the store was huge.” A made a face at him and walked off to the bar, taking out a few bottles as well as two glasses. The threesome proceeded to talk while A prepared the drinks, Touta retelling his tale in great detail.

In the living room, Kenichi took an easy drink from his beer and listened as Touta told him all about baseball. “So wait a minute – who do you support?”

“New York Yankees. Nearly sobbed when Jeter took his final bow,” the brunette replied, memories of Derek Jeter’s play throughout the years coming to mind. “The family’s been supporting the team since I was young. I’ve got all kinds of merc,” the American laughed.

“Yankees. I think I watched a game of theirs when I was in the States a couple of years back, in the stadium itself. Can’t remember against who. It was a good game,” he said, and Peters nodded enthusiastically. “…huh – so that explains why A’s been asking me if I have connections with those merc sellers in the States.”

“Connections?”

“Mhm. Oh well. You’ll see it in your gift,” Kenichi replied cheerfully, watching in plain amusement as the six footer gaped and scrambled for his gift, which he had left on the other couch.

TFDC: Day Three -- Forgiveness

Peters’ Apartment
Tokyo, Japan
December 2014

God, the idiot was obstinate.

(But could she really blame him? She had been away for months.)

She had told him to get over her and find a new person and move on; besides, who could want a messy-haired, slowly-recovering, sharp-tongued lady? J had been a hundred percent ready to detach from the American, as much as it would hurt. She had prepared herself for coming back to a changed lock and merry laughter from within the apartment; laughter than came from him and laughter that came from an unknown other.

But, no.

J came back to an unchanged lock and an empty apartment which smelled lightly of food and laundry. From that, she could arrive at three conclusions.

1. Peters hadn’t changed the locks at all. He was either too lazy or too stubborn to change them.
2. Peters was still at work, even at this time.
3. The lack of clothes strewn on the floor and the fact that only a single pair of utensils had been discarded told her that he was the only occupant. 

J hadn’t returned her things back to the respective cabinets and such, not really. She definitely wasn’t sure if Peters even wanted her back. Nonetheless, she stayed seated there, on his couch, flipping through the channels and sipping from a cup of coffee she had brewed only moments back.

She was never the type who would be easily surprised. Everyone who knew her knew that this was pure fact; surprising J was nearly an impossible feat. So when she heard the door creak open, she jumped – and felt irritated at herself for jumping at such a simple thing.

“Really, J? You’re jumping at a fucking opening door?” she grumbled to herself, attempting to calm the storm raging in her heart. She felt her heard thud wildly in her chest, threatening to fight its way out due to the intensity it was experiencing.

Deep down, she knew that if it had anything to do with Peters, then she would be jumpy.

Fashion Mishaps: A Request Prompt

“No.” Peters’ face fell.

“No? But – why not?”

He didn’t understand, really. Peters thought he was doing well with J. He had the flowers, made sure to not smoke in front of her, opened the doors like he usually did. The man peeked at his armpits. Maybe he was sweating heavily or something. Figures. When you were asking the most amazing lady on a date, the sweat glands would really get down.

“Peters, I refuse to go on a date with someone who wears that,” J snarled.

He spluttered, “But what the fuck’s wrong with wearing ombre?”

That question alone irritated her more. He cringed as she turned a slight red (not quite suitable with her pale complexion) and opened her mouth to speak, spitting venomous words at him a mile a minute.

“Those things are so goddamned ridiculous. You left me in permanent disarray because I wondered if you were stupid enough to wear a shirt that was half-wet to work today. Do you know how distracting that thing is?” she growled, and Peters gulped upon seeing the intensity of her glare. “Dark grey and light grey. You’re such a fucking idiot for even buying that – the thing looks wetter than–”

She stopped upon having him cover her mouth, J realizing that they were outside the offices. But she bit his finger and he yelped, she continuing her rant as if nothing happened.

“Disgusting – wetter than a beer soaked in condensation, you pig-brained shit!” She glared at the American who cradled his finger and folded her arms over her chest. “So, no. I’m not going on a date with you at all.”

“Just because of the shirt!?”

“Figure it out,” she snapped, and retreated back inside. Peters stood in the middle of the area, looking confused (and feeling confused, most definitely) as well as irritated just because of a petty reason like that.

Because of the shirt.

The Beginning: A Caffè Americano Challenge Short

“Happy birthday, Peters!”

He turned around in surprise, spotting A rushing to him with Mack and Touta on her heels. She smiled this time (which surprised him – since when did she smile?) and shoved something into his hands, something large and heavy and bottle-shaped. He threw the woman a look.

“Is this alcohol–”

“No take backs. This is *good* alcohol.” Mack clasped Peters on the back and handed something square, this time wrapped in red paper with a golden ribbon affixed on top.

“Enjoy this, assbite.”

Peters said nothing. Touta came forward next, holding something small this time, smaller than the square parcel. “I can’t believe you’re twenty-six,” the Japanese said in disbelief. “You don’t look that old.”

“Drinking from the fountain of youth,” he replied with a smirk. A rolled her eyes.

“Or actually eating healthy and working out on a regular basis.” She poked his arm.

“That too. Thanks, really – I told you not to get me anything,” Peters defended. It was true – he had specifically requested for no gifts. He wasn’t the type of person who would hold a grudge if he received nothing on his birthday. Mack shrugged.

“Touta and A wanted to, so I tagged along. Wasn’t supposed to get you something to make you happy, but I found that,” he nodded at the square, “And thought you’d like it. So accept them. No take backs, as A said, or she’ll skin you alive.”

Him: Her :: Whiskers: Tiger

Character Facts: Samuel Peters

Metanoia (Part II)

Tokyo, Japan.
2010.

She was thankful to go home early for once.

Leaving the lollipop wrapper in the other seat, a black-haired lady kept driving as she ate the apple-flavored sweet, removing her sunglasses and keeping her eyes on the road as she continued driving down the road, away from the office and closer to where she lived. The lights of Tokyo eventually faded away, trees greeting her and calming her down in the slightest.

“Jean Onix, you better have some drinks for me by the time I get back,” a woman complained as she drove home. A woman’s voice came from her phone and she rolled her eyes, ending the call and tossing the phone into the other seat. The black sports car zoomed across the roads of Tokyo, the woman taking sharp turns until she reached the street where she lived.

The red apartment looked like it was waiting for her presence. After smoothly parking into her usual spot, the woman turned off the engine and got out, locked the car doors and swept her streaked green hair into a high ponytail.

From the outside, she could hear rock music playing. A low chuckle left her lips and she entered the house, taking off her coat and hanging it by the door.

“Lock the fucking thing, I don’t want to wake up next to a murdered body when I rise in the morning,” another person yelled from the kitchen. And she did so, dropping the keys into a glass bowl and removing her heels right after, carrying them as she walked in.

A tangled mess of black curls greeted her, the other woman finishing up on her drinks. Jean smirked as she walked inside, pointing down at the rather tall glass she had prepared for her roommate.

“Something new I devised at work. And the idiots still don’t know that I was the woman fortunate enough to escape the bastards.”

“To be fair, you’ve changed your appearance a bit,” she replied easily, sitting on the bar stool and letting her shoes drop on the floor with a soft thud.

Kalon

He wasn’t perfect, and she knew that.

Jinx knew what she fell in love with: one of the cockiest men in the entire world with an ego that could rival her own, possibly. A man who constantly smirked and poked fun at anyone anytime, a man who threatened to spray her with men’s cologne while they were in New York. She loved a previous womanizer who could drop her at the quick drop at a hat, who could leave her for better, blonde-haired and tanned female who wasn’t afraid to show off some skin. She loved a smoker who had a few beers stuffed into his fridge, who loved baseball and stuck with her as she spluttered and shielded her eyes from a mature scene they stumbled across one day on his television.

But then again, she loved the man who risked his life to protect a child. She loved the man who made up with his family on that same trip to New York, who wore spiderman pajamas as a child. She loved the man who talked about cookies and warm milk in his sleep, with the man who stood in the rain and kissed her impulsively (though panicked and ran away before anything else). She loved the man’s stubble and was surprised to see that he shaved it off and decided to grow his brown hair back. And she loved that he refused to leave her, even while she was on medication and threatened to cut off his balls often.

Besides, that was Peters. Peters was an arrogant piece of shit who prided his looks, who constantly flirted around with women and took them home for a one night stand. He was the type of person to carry her up a few flights of stairs to the top of a building, the man who introduced her to root beer and watched as she admitted to liking it. That was the man who admitted to her his reasons for playing around, the man who she fell on at that time in the park after they ate some Chinese food.

He wasn’t perfect, and she knew that.

Hell, she was far from perfection and she wondered how he was able to see even a sliver of perfection in her. But she chose not to doubt him, because that was him.

If Peters knew that she saw him as perfect, he’d most likely grin and waggle his eyebrows suggestively, and then claim that he was the son of Apollo and pretty much related to Aphrodite, which wouldn’t make sense because a. he was not a Greek god, and b. this was not a Percy Jackson book.

But then again, he’d eventually stop and get that look in his eyes, and then he’d tell her that he wasn’t perfect at all.

And then she’d snort and tell him, “Well that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you, of all people.”

But that would be a joke. Although he was a cocky little shit on the outside, he was pretty deep on the inside, which surprised her at first. Initially, her thoughts of Peters was some womanizer who didn’t really care for his work and lived some kind of YOLO–themed life. She had encountered him around the office, but her first real experience with him was running into him over at a restaurant, where he had just finished from a date, judging by the red kiss mark on his collar. Why the woman would even kiss his collar, she didn't even want to know.

She never really thought that she’d be doing the same.

(Not the collar-kissing, though.)

Jinx never thought that she’d be like A, in a relationship and happy, constantly blushing and blooming whenever she got into work each day. But Jinx didn’t want to be blooming and blushing all the time that she’d look like a glowing tomato. She still wanted to be Jinx – the one who wouldn’t take any bullshit and rolled her eyes at any ridiculous thing that happened. She wanted to fight for cases and kick Williams’ ass to the curb, she wanted to continue thinking that Touta was a man with issues regarding society and she wanted Olsen to see her as Jean freaking Onix, not Jean Onix with an additional Peters on the side like some kind of sub they served over at Subway.  

Not that she didn’t want to be a Mrs. Peters, hell. But that was for some other time.

But at the same time, she didn’t want Peters to be her attachment, her hubby, her little boy toy. She wanted him to be Samuel Peters at the office and not Whiskers, because it was work and the workplace and home were two totally different environments.

And he understood that, at least.

But that didn’t stop his winks or his warmer-than-usual greetings.

And it’s not like she minded, actually.

She just wanted him to know his limits, and for her to know hers. And they knew.

At this stage, she was comfortable with the American. She knew his daily routine and he knew hers, he knew how to make her coffee and that she preferred he smoke outside rather than in. And she knew which closet was hers, that beers would be split evenly between them, and that he was a man who spent a long time in the shower, compared to other guys who jumped in, washed, and then jumped out.

Which was fairly disgusting, so thank God he washed well

Jinx knew him in and out, which spots he liked and which part of the body he prided the most. And aside from that, she knew that he was smart, that he was protective, that he cared for his family more than he let other people know. And she knew that he was afraid of deep waters because of an incident from when he was younger. (And it amused her, to be honest.)

Overall, Jinx loved Peters. Yes, there were times in which she wanted to rip his hair out and sell his organs on the black market, there were times where she wanted him to pay for the renovations in her office, and there were times where she had wanted for him to piss off.

But amidst that and what they had gone through, she wanted no one else but him.

A Red String in the Cage of Fate

A multitude of realities. It’s like flipping a coin to decide either heads or tails, except that coin has a lot more sides to it, and has more of an effect rather than letting it decide who goes first or whatsoever. The flipping itself has created two distinct possibilities, heads or tails would lead to those, and the decisions made after the result of head or tail would then create more. These realities are tightly compressed and bound, some carrying few changes and others carrying much more. One reality can have a slower passage of time and the other can have people in the sky. Despite all of this, all people who have and are existing are all present in the other realities. Some may be cut short and others may live longer, and yet some others may just have the same lifespan throughout. If one is born into a reality, then they are born in another reality. It doesn’t matter when or where, just as long as the said person serves the said purpose given to them in life.

With that given, fate controls one thing as well aside from the existence of all people: the endgame. Earth may disintegrate from the sun’s heat in one world, but it may also wither and die in another. But what they have in common is that in both worlds, the Earth died. This is the endgame. John Smith may win a million dollars and die the next day in one timeline, or would live in poverty yet die happy in another, but their endings are one and the same: death. Fate doesn’t stop and give free passes to anyone nor does it quicken the passing on from one life to another. Fate is a schoolteacher you refused to understand in your younger years, yet have learned to appreciate as time went on. 

Aside from this, fate puppets another.

In exhibit A, John Smith weds Mary Jane.

In exhibit B, John Smith weds Betty Doe, divorces her, and then ends up with Mary Jane.

Fate controls the connection of souls. No matter how separated one may be from their destined other, they would always carry on in the end. The souls who refused to marry would live with themselves, and fate would let them do so happily. It does not press this upon the undeserving, but puts this on the people who would grow best with the given situation.

Plato discusses that humans were made to have four arms and legs, but were split apart by Zeus, who willed them to roam the Earth in exchange for their significant other, the one who completed their soul. Argumentatively, those who would end up with no significant other would find themselves their own soul mate – they would fit themselves best and would be able to take care of themselves well enough just like a husband would care for his wife, etc. Mother Fate interfered once more, ensuring that this would happen. She conjured up the strongest of strings and colored them red as a symbol of love. With the strings in her hands, she scattered them amongst the realities in such a way that one would end up with the same other. Those who were not hit by the strings would live happily by themselves.

In the future, this would be perceived as the theory of “The Red String of Fate”. People of different cultures and races would make their own folklore of this, believing what they did. Somehow, they were able to get the idea that people had their own soul mate they would always reach – but that was as far as they got.

Tiger&Whiskers

1. Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

I know we
Ain't got much to say
before I let you get away, yeah!
I said, 'are you gonna be my girl'?

Well, so 1,2,3, take my hand and come with me
Because you look so fine 
and I really wanna make you mine.

2. True Love

Why do you rub me off the wrong way?
Why do you say the things that you say?
Sometimes I wonder how we ever came to be
But without you I'm incomplete

3. The Walk

Tell me why, why do you turn the blues skies cloudy grey
You know why I can’t let you keep treatin' me this way

4. Misery

You say your faith is shaken
And you may be mistaken
To keep me wide awake and waiting for the sun
I'm desperate and confused
So far away from you
I'm getting there, I don't care where I have to run

Why do you do what you do to me, yeah?
Why won't you answer me, answer me, yeah?

5. Cold Coffee

She's like cold coffee in the morning
I'm drunk off last nights whiskey and coke
She'll make me shiver without warning
And make me laugh as if I'm in on the joke

And you can stay with me forever
Or you could stay with me for now

Tell me if I'm wrong 
Tell me if I'm right
Tell me if you need a loving hand
To help you fall asleep tonight

6. Don't You Forget About Me

Tell me your troubles and doubts
Giving me everything inside and out and
Love's strange so real in the dark
Think of the tender things that we were working on

Slow change may pull us apart
When the light gets into your heart, baby

7. Edge of Desire

Don't say a word
Just come over and lie here with me
'Cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see

I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe
There I just said it
I'm scared you'll forget about me

8. If It's Love

I digress

I confess you are the best thing in my life

But I'm afraid when I hear stories

About a husband and wife

There's no happy endings

No Henry Lee

But you are the greatest thing about me

9. Locked Out of Heaven

Never had much faith in love or miracles

Never wanna put my heart on the line

But swimming in your water is something spiritual

I'm born again every time you spend the night

10. My Love

See, what's the point of waiting anymore?
Cause girl I've never been more sure (that baby, it's you)
This ring here represents my heart
And everything that you've been waiting for (just say "I do")

11. The Way I Was

I can't make the same mistake
If you lose my love
It was yours to take
Break down your door
Take a little more
When I need you around.