#i get that also 2k16 was the beginning of the end times and yes that is more important than a video game

[an-exotic-writer]

jimin: sidewalk sugar (m)

[unedited - reupload - will edit soon!] ❝ you met your sugardaddy on the sidewalk? - jeon jungkook 2k16 ► 9955 words // scenario, sugardaddy!jimin ❣ one of my absolute favorites! ;w;

There are days where you love life to the end of time. Everything seemed to be a domino effect of pleasant things going your way; planned itinerary finishing on time, unexpected good news, maybe even a raise in your salary but that’s highly doubtful but a person can hope, no? It’s all the possible good emotions bottled up into a day, the span of twenty-four hours oozing with nothing but smiles and giggles. Those days are what you aim for the most, or at least, try.

Today was not one of those days.

Today was really not one of those fucking days.

Getting up late for work even though you set two alarm clocks? Yeah, those tiny pieces of shit decided to spell out fuck you in numeric because you got up an hour later. The regular bus you took seemed to be late and there was no way in hell you would make it in time for your first class. That would resort to your second class but hey, look who decided to trip you and spill coffee all over your notes? Ah, this is also a giant middle finger shown from God when a random passerby decided to help you and fuck me man, he’s gorgeous.

It’s already bad enough that the notes you’ve spent so hard had brown splotches and even if you wiggled them out, it’s going to take a ton of writing to make up for the loss. You try not to cry, simply because you get emotional when things get tough and hey you’re human, it’s normal. But when so many things are falling out of your way in just the beginning of the day, might as well set yourself on fire. The stranger that bumped into you hadn’t even had the guts to apologize just as he tries to scurry himself up and make a dash for it.

You would’ve let him go, because if you saw his face, you’d remember his face structure and made sure you’d add a little extra in his drink if he ever walked into the coffee shop you worked at. But another voice seemed to caught him down for you.

“Hey. I believe you owe this lady an apology,” At the authoritative tone, you down your guts about to throw up, tilting your chin up to see a man clad in a suit, tailored to perfection wrapped around his slim figure was the owner of that sweet, honeyed voice that sounded so powerful as each word fell from his mouth. You gape, aware of the stares you’re getting because this is a bloody sidewalk where at this time it’s the most packed that you naturally reach out to tug on the hem of this… stranger’s pants. You’re trying not to stain his attire because it looks too expensive for your ass to cover that but you give your best, “D-Don’t, it’s fine…”

The handsome stranger lets the other stranger go, growling a beat it before he lets him scramble off while you’ve gone back to gathering your notes. When you see that another set of hands help you out in picking up the sheets of hand-written notes, you realize you’re not alone. As you reach for the last one, he does the same and your hands brush against each other. He gasps and stops, only for you to snatch it before mumbling a soft thanks. He gets up, offering you help as well and where in the name of God did he come from?

He carefully hands you back your notes and smiles at you in apology despite this not being his fault, or his business to begin with. His black hair mused as if someone had just ran their hands through them, dark, round eyes disappearing when he smiles, lips soft and pink as they radiate warmth to seep in your veins, it’s difficult to keep eye contact when remembering your current state.

Your white blouse is now half brown, black pencil skirt coated with a thin layer of the remnants on the pavement and let’s not even begin with the marks on your kneecaps. But none of that is compared to the look on your face as you bite down on your lip, staring at your hours of hard work now flushed in the drain. In other words, a large cup of black Americano from an asshole.

“Hey…” His voice is still sweet, this time dropping to lukewarm as his hand graces over to your shoulder, trying to comfort you when the tears well up in your eyes, “A-Are you okay…?”

Managing to look at him in the eye, you nod and smile despite the single tear straying down your cheek. As his eyes look painfully immersed in the emotions of your own, of how he frowns and the lines crease his forehead, he intends to say something about you lying. But you soon correct yourself with the shaking of your head, hanging your head low, “No,”

Even saying a word with one syllable was hard and it makes him sick to his stomach.

He brings things to his own hands, moving the one from your shoulder to use two fingers to tip your chin up so he can look at you properly, his smile appearing once more, “Is there any way I can help you?”

With an intake of air, it fills up your lungs and your mind of what you should do but what you really do instead as you wipe the remaining tears that fall from your eyes. He acts quick, fishing out an ironed and nicely folded handkerchief that carefully swipes your tears away. He quietly tugs you to the side, to avoid walking traffic and when you’re at a safe distance by the wall, you lean against it and he doesn’t like how you look like one of those nice people who just gets shitty things happening to them.

“Really, let me help you. Whatever it is, I’ll try,”

Initially your plan was to comeback with a snarky comment like why the fuck do you care but upon meeting his eyes and seeing how genuine they are in helping, you can’t. He looks like he donates half of his earnings to charity and with that, you’re not about to treat someone else like shit because your day got started off the wrong way.

“Unless you can miraculously make my notes clean or my clothes, I don’t think so,” Shaking your head at his incredible hospitality, you gently put his hand away from your cheek, “But on the other hand, I appreciate it. Thank you,” You give his hand a light pat as it falls to his side and gather every ounce of selfesteem left in you to turn on your heels to start walking away. Not even halfway through this coffeeshop to your right, his voice that you seem to recognize calls for you with—“Wait!”

You do stop but you’re not expecting much until he jogs around you, reappearing before you again. He catches his breath and then says past a heavy exhale, “I can help. Well, only half of that but… do you trust me?”

If he’s thinking this is one of those movies where you’d just gladly accept his hand and run away to the sunsets, man he has another thing coming. Raising a brow at him, you take a step back, to which it deflates his confidence but he doesn’t let it show.

“I… I just met you. And I don’t even know your name,”

He laughs, and the way he laughs completely strikes your heart to the heaven’s at how beautiful it sounds. His head tips back because apparently, you’re a comedian and yes hi hello, you’re hilarious as fuck but no. He leans forward, stretching his arm and hand to you once the laughter dies down. He’s smiling once more, not offended or affected by your response but he is rather impressed. Many your age would be smitten by looks and grabbed by the hook but apparently, there’s still hope left in society.

“I’m Jimin. Park Jimin,” From his eyes filled with sincerity to his smile curved to kindness, you relent and manage your things in one arm, extending the other to place your hand in his. Automatically he curls his fingers around yours, feeling the grip of warmth clutching onto you as you shake his hand lightly, “Y/N. Just Y/N,”

“There, now you know me,” He lets your hand go, to which you go back to clutching onto your notes as he smiles at you widely, “Now, do you trust me?”

Oh what the hell.

With a small smile, you nod, bringing a wider one to Jimin’s lips, “Yeah.”

//

“Um… where are we going?” You only ask now, after seated in his car (which is a fucking Mercedes Benz, one of the limited editions in jet black) as he drives you downtown and once seeing high rises and luxurious lots, you’re certain this part town is none of your favor. “Just somewhere I’m regular at,” He answers with a hint of amusement, taking a side glance to notice how your eyes are glued to what’s outside of the window. The gape you have as your eyes ogle at the sight, he’s certain you’ve never been to this side before. Or you have but never gotten the chance to linger around.

He takes it as you’re done when you close your mouth at the stop he pulls in front of a boutique. Stained glass just for class, the clothes they present out by the line of the sidewalk, it scares you how expensive it must be to even stand in there to breathe. Jimin makes himself known when he opens the door for you, not knowing how to function properly until he offers a hand for you to step out. Once on your feet, you rely on him to lead you into the shop with his hand in yours.

The bells ding upon arrival, stepping in and automatically, there’s a man clad in a striped suit, similar to Jimin’s, the pattern only distinctively different from his. He’s taller, of silver hair combed back and a dimpled smile shining your way when he walks around the counter, “Ah, Min. Brought a lady back, I see,”

Jimin only chuckles, grip loosening on your hand as he steps forward to offer whoever this is a hug and—“I’m Namjoon, Kim Namjoon.”

“Y/N,” You manage softly, reaching to shake his hand and everything else that happens after leaves you in a daze. With the snapping of his fingers, there’s a lady coming out—high waisted skirt, pretty peach blouse with her hair in a nice bun with a few allowed strands by the side of her face, she takes your measurement. There are no words exchanged as you stand there, like a doll for her to dress up. As she steps away with a measuring board, she clicks away back into the curtains.

Gulping, you turn to look at Jimin, who’s seated on one of the black leather sofas and he smiles at you, motioning you with a hand to follow her. You’re about to protest, something like I can’t afford this but when he looks so confident, as if he knows what you’re thinking, you relent and stalk behind her. Past the curtains there’s already a row of clothes by the side, a mirrored wall that puts emphasis that this room might be bigger than you thought. The lady earlier smiles at you and picks out something that might match your taste and true enough, it does.

It’s a nice white dress shirt with sleeves that curl around your wrists with lace. The buttons are of gold with white thread and the pencil skirt she picks out almost looks like the one she has on but this is in your size, fitting right above your knees. She gives you privacy to change and just as you slip on the skirt, she steps around your discarded clothes to reach behind you, zipping you up before you can do it yourself. With a grateful smile, you look at her over your shoulder, “T-Thank you,”

“You’re welcome, love,” She winks, picking up what you should be and before you can take it back, she frowns at you, “Um… I don’t think this is worth saving. Even with the quality of cleaning products we have, it might not work,”

She notices how you’re attached to it because that’s my favorite… but you’re quick to shake your head, brushing it off with a small smile, “I-It’s okay, then…”

“Are you sure?” She wants to confirm she has your green light and when you nod once more, she disappears and goodbye, half a month’s worth of paycheck. You come to realize there’s no time to sulk when a voice startles you from the other end and in this case, it’s not Jimin. Smoothening your hands down on your clothes, it feels so foreign, a little too expensive but you like it. Turning around, you nudge the curtains aside and come face to face with Namjoon, who grins, “Looks great,”

Grinning back, you step out to follow him, “Thanks,”

As he leads you to the counter he stood behind not too long ago, filling out a card for you to take. “If you need any other assistance in the future, bring this back,” It has your measurements and whatever it is to tailor to your needs and you blink at it before taking it carefully, “Thank you but… I don’t think I’ll be coming back,”

Noticing it came off wrong, you shake your head and almost crush the card out of nervousness, “N-Not because the selection here is bad! Because, um… I don’t have the money…”

“Well, with Jimin, it’s off the house,” Namjoon says smoothly, folding his arms and leaning forward to eye you with curiosity that has you growing conscious with how you look, “By any chance are you younger?”

“Than Jimin?” Namjoon nods. “I guess? I’m not too sure—“

“Is he your sugar daddy or something?”

Gawking at his assumptions, you now know Namjoon’s not one to sugar coat his words. Finding your words, they fly out filter before you can hold yourself back, “I wish he was,”

“Wish who was your sugar daddy?” A voice pops up from behind and you watch as amusement fills Namjoon’s eyes, belittling you as he smirks and stalks off to the side, gone as he walks past the blinds. Gulping, you turn around carefully and offer him a crooked smile, hands behind your back, “Um…”

He steps forward, closer and closer until he’s in the personal of your space. His hand reaches up, putting strands of your hair behind your ear as he hums for an answer, “Hm?”

“You. But we were just kidding and—“

“Shame, I’d actually take it up,” He coos, finding that you’re not all as you seem and he likes it. Jimin likes it a lot. With his hand, he carefully strokes your cheek and then puts his hands back into his pockets, shrugging at you, “And, you look beautiful,”

“Thank you—thank you but, Jimin, how much is this? I don’t know how long I’d need to take but I’ll pay you back and—“

“No no, it’s my treat, don’t even talk about it.” He shakes his head, tutting at you in the process as he reaches down and holds his palm up. You quietly place your hand after a hushed thank you and Jimin doesn’t think he’s heard anything more sincere in his years of living. Once you have your hand in his, he holds onto it and leads you back out to his car. Neither of you say a word until closes the door of his side of the door and the both of you are inside the vehicle. Anxious, you don’t say anything, keeping your lips shut and only answering him when he asks where do you need to be?

After giving him the name of the university you go to, he seems to be interested, questioning as soon as you strap your seatbelt and he revs the engine, “Final year?”

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” He snorts, and after that, the rest of the drive is quiet. (but really, he managed to see one of your notes with the hint there)

//

When he reaches just a few blocks away, you manage to place a hand on his shoulder, gaining his full attention, “J-Jimin, you can stop here. I’ll get off,” You take your seat belt off, only to let Jimin hold you back when he does pull over but he keeps the door locked. Unable to open, you look over your shoulder to frown at him, “Jimin…”

“Why not at the front?” He questions, only to have you sighing as you shake your head, “I… I don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I’m sure, for a person like you to be driving a car like this, you’re in no position to be associated with me and just—“

“I don’t care,” He cuts you off, causing you to suck in a breath when he leans over dangerously close and you swallow the lump trapped in your throat, preventing any words from slipping past, “J-Jimin…”

“I’ll drop you off in the front, yeah? Take it as part of the ways you’re repaying me,”

“P-Parts?” You squeak, and Jimin doesn’t answer just yet, chuckling with that beautiful voice of his as he takes advantage at the green light, getting his car back onto the main road as he drives past the remaining blocks. Once reaching the front gates of your university, he doesn’t let you get off just yet.

“How about some dinner tomorrow night? Down at The Grand Marlin at seven?”

Trying to remain calm, you see if you’re on the same page as he is, “A-Are you serious about the whole sugar daddy thing…?”

He raises his brows and lowers them down, an act of teasing you as his voice spells out—“I am if you are,”

Biting back a smile, letting out a shy one, Jimin unlocks the door for you to open the door, in which you get out of the car without a word. He doesn’t know if it’s a good sign or a bad sign but he does know he appreciates the way you rake your hands through your hair, sparing him a grin as you murmur just for him, “See you at seven.”

//

The rest of your day had been better than you had expected. You pass the presentation with a grade that your lecturer seems to be pleased with, lunch was paid for by your friends and tonight your boss called in saying that your shift was taken over by a co-worker, so you need not come in. But this is where everything starts to sink in at the thought of Jimin when you’re reaching a friend’s dorm. Considering you live just next door, you decide to pop up because you need help.

“Wow, who the hell did you rob to get that?” Taehyung’s eyes grow wide, simply because he’s one of the few who knows of your dealings to earn money and there was no way you’d spend for another attire like that when it’s your last year in this hellhole. You laugh and step in, giving him a quick hug before you reach the sofa. He doesn’t let up on it, taking the seat beside you, looking at you dead in the eye, “I’m serious, Y/N. Who did you kill?”

“I’m about to tell you, alright? Jeez, let me breathe,”

He waits until you take three inhales and two exhales and that’s when he shakes you, “Tell me!”

“I don’t think you’re going to believe me,” Your voice is shaky, the same time you drop your bag to the side and he scoffs a laugh, rolling his eyes along the way. He brushes his brown hair back and leans against the arm of the sofa, grabbing onto a pillow to hug and tossing you one, “Please. I think after what happened with Jungkook, I believe everything is possible now. Try me,”

“I… got myself a sugar daddy. Or at least, I think so…?”

“Woah, okay, okay,” Taehyung takes in your words, the new information digesting in his system before he—“I was not expecting that. The closest I thought you would get is friends with benefits but a sugar daddy? Who the fuck begged on their knees to get fucked this time?”

Before you can answer, the hollering down from the hall has the both of you flinching, “Who got a sugar daddy?!”

Taehyung groans and tosses his head back, glaring at the face popping out and now seated by your other side, looking over your shoulder in excitement.

“Fuck off, Jungkook. She was just about to tell me!”

“Us,” He corrects, “Now proceed,”

“His name is Jimin and I met him earlier today by the sidewalk and—“

“You met your sugar daddy on the sidewalk?”

“Yes, Jungkook I met him on the sidewalk where the fuck do you think I was supposed to meet him? A five star hotel?”

“That would’ve been more believable,” Taehyung muses and Jungkook snorts, “I know, right?”

“Anyway,” Your voice is loud enough to get them to shut up and luckily, they do. “We’re going out for dinner tomorrow night and I don’t know what I should do,” Letting out a sigh, you look at the both of them, back and forth, “Help me?”

The both of them decide not to poke fun on this too much, Taehyung thinking of something to say, something not stupid but Jungkook’s faster, being the quick thinker. He places a hand on your shoulder, making you face him and Taehyung raises a brow to what he might propose, “Set rules of what you want. Like, what you’d do and what you wouldn’t do.”

“Ah, make sure he’s clean, too! Get tested. Together. Or not, up to you,”

“Make sure he signs it, too. Keep it valid and—“

“If you don’t enjoy it, call it off. The rules are there to validate what you’ve agreed to. If anything, we’re on your speed dials and—“

“Could you please the ever loving fuck stop cutting me off?” Taehyung hisses, to how how manages to smack his boyfriend over your shoulder and you bark with a laugh, leaning back on the sofa with your arm clutched onto the pillow, pressed to your stomach, “Oh my god,”

“I’m trying to make sure her sugar daddy doesn’t take her for granted! Most assholes are like that nowadays!”

“We don’t even know who he is!”

“Exactly! That’s why we need to be careful!”

“Oh, Y/N, I know just what you should wear,”

“Fuck me, why are we dating?” Jungkook groans, leaning back and giving up on saying anything while Taehyung hops off the sofa, patting your head and sparing a kick to Jungkook’s shin, “Shut the fuck up. You were the one who turned gay for me,”

As Taehyung scurries off to retrieve what he has in mind for your date, you only laugh at Jungkook’s reddening cheeks and snarky words, “Bitch! I’d turn gay for myself!”

//

There are perks when it came to having friends who are in the fashion designing course. They’d make lovely clothes with such detail that makes your eyes double over at what Taehyung had to offer you. It was one of his final projects, to which he had you model in a year ago and now, it seems like it paid off. What took him a month of planning and two weeks of execution (Jungkook almost getting a black eye for spilling soda on the fabric and him needing to reorder another roll of silk), now it fits like a glove.

You make an effort to do your make up, your hair and picking out one of your favorable shoes that wouldn’t be death to walk in. Heels are the way to go so you chose the ones you liked most. As you reach the place he’s talked off, you’re sure this is it. And boy oh boy, it’s as grand as the name itself. You’re not too sure if you know who you’re dealing with but now you most certainly do. As if yesterday wasn’t enough, this is ten times more.

The waiter smiles at you just as his co-worker opens the door for you to step through. He smiles at you and flips open his book, pen in his hand, “Hello there, miss…?”

“Y/N,” You answer, trying not to stammer and before you can mention the name you’re here for, he already gets it, “Ah, wait here. We’ll have someone show you the way,”

You try to process what’s going on, blinking at him, “I-I’m sorry?”

“This way, please,” Another voice calls for you and you try to keep up, earnestly not tripping over your heels as you walk, purse by your side (Jungkook got it during some trip, one for you, one for Taehyung). He brings you away from the big crowd, heading straight for what seems to be a private room and your heart stops when he opens the door, revealing Jimin inside looking like a fucking model that stepped out of a magazine.

He decided to drop down on his usual clothes, more for comfort but stylish nevertheless. In contrast to his black dress shirt and white coat, it’s replaced with just a white dress shirt, buttoned up to his chest, revealing enough skin and all the way down, jeans does justice to the curves of his bottom when he stands up to greet you. The waiter leaves the pair of you alone, closing the door and you step in, making your way towards him with your best not to fall over.

You reach him in time before you can make a fool out of yourself and his smile is so wide, his eyes are gone. As he puts an arm around you for a quick hug, you settle down first when he pulls the chair for you, then in as you lean forward. After a soft thank you, he’s in front of you now, on the opposite end with his eyes never leaving yours.

It’s like he’s full of surprises, much like you as a mirror and he’s not afraid to show he’s in awe with the way you look tonight. The white dress compliments your skin, the way it hangs on your shoulders and exposes a part of your back when you look around, a preview of what you have on and he knows you know when you smile back at him.

Before anything else can go on, he pulls out the menu and smiles, again, “Shall we order first?”

Taking the menu you have in front of you, this is the first time you’ve been here and you’re not too sure what to order. Blinking at the words you’ve never quite called out before, you look up to Jimin with a nervous look, “H-Hey, um… I’m not too sure what to order…”

“What do you like?” He questions, tipping his chin up, only to hear your answer of, “I like a lot of things,”

He laughs, but tries to get an answer, a narrowed scope of what he should suggest, “Any allergies?”

“No beef, no peanuts,”

“Seafood?”

“Surprise me.”

Jimin decides to do exactly that when he calls for the waiter with just a bell by the side of the table. On cue, a man walks through the door, the one that guided you here and he stands by Jimin’s side when he motions him over. Jimin orders the serving for two of lobsters, a side of oysters and what seems to be the special on the appettizer platter. He sums it all up with a nice bottle of white wine, in his favor of the year he specifies. When the door opens and closes once more, you’re left to folding your elbows on the table, keeping your eyes glued on him. He seems to take interest to do the same, raising a brow, “Yes?”

“How old are you?” The question slips out before you can stop yourself but Jimin doesn’t seem fazed. He chuckles and shakes his head, fringe brushing over his eyes as he answers, “I’m four years older than you. And you, for someone who’s quite hesitant to enter the boutique yesterday… you have quite the taste in clothes,”

Leaning back in your seat, you cross your legs and put your purse beside you, “My friend’s in the fashion design course. Considering I helped to be his model, this was something I could fit in to borrow,”

He rests his chin in his palm, finding the time to be cheeky, “With a face like yours, I would believe that you’re a model,”

“Dropping compliments now, are we?” You tilt your head at him and he shrugs, sighing, “What can I say? It’s in my nature,”

“Oh really? What do you do for a living?”

“Straight to the point, aren’t you, baby girl?” He coos, much to the pink blushing your cheeks and he chuckles as you clear your throat. “I work at a logistics company that belongs to my father—inherited and now running under my own hands. I juggle with that along with being a model sometimes, if Namjoon’s that desperate,” Squinting your eyes at him out of being playful, you tease, “Aren’t you a little successful?”

He snorts and moves his hands, resting them on his knees as he tries to remain humble, “One of the top young business leaders to enter the scene but it’s nothing, really,”

“Interesting,” You nod slowly, a smile playing on your lips and it’s his turn to flip the coin, eyeing you with certain curiosity that fills his cup, “What about you?”

“What about me…” You repeat his question, finding the easiest way to answer his question as you look up to him, “I’m currently in my final year. Scholarship on one of my two majors. Balancing two part time jobs and one side job while trying not to die halfway of finishing what I need to do to get my education,” Jimin’s mouth opens to say something, but you beat him to it, “Which reminds me,” He falls silent at the zipping of your purse and when you pull out a piece of folded paper, he only unfolds it after you slide it over and get him to read it.

It’s a typed out set of rules he has to agree with and he’s not going to lie, he’s impressed. Even with the whole ‘should I not abide by, any legal action should and would be taken upon’ and continuing on to what could happen and the consequences along with his spot to sign. He reads diligently and that’s when you know he is serious and he’s careful with everything he’s putting his signature on. Initially, there should be no flaw. But when he hands you back the paper, you notice the correction he adds in.

Frowning, you look up to him, “J-Jimin, no. I don’t need—“

“Either that or not at all. You decide,”

Seventh: Personal tutor… and gifts.

“What if I don’t want gifts?”

“What if you do?”

He sees that you’re not budging and that’s when he brings up to—“How about we leave that to be negotiable? The tutor thing, I agree.”

Biting his bait, you nod, taking out a pen to sign your name down, “Fine.”

Jimin does the same, with a smile and a fountain pen, “Great.”

Then there’s that—it’s done.

Well, and dinner is served.

//

Once full and sweetly taken in the dessert Jimin calls for after knowing your liking for ice cream, that’s when the bottle of wine comes down to nothing, empty as it clinks on the table and Jimin’s looking at you like you’re the first woman he ever saw. You refuse to let go of eye contact, a little hazy with the alcohol infused in your veins but it’s not too much where you miss the hint of arousal pooling in his eyes.

“Shall we head back to my apartment?” His voice is husky as each word grates past his throat and whether it’s him making you feel hot and bothered right now or the wine, you don’t know. You don’t care. “Yes, god, yes.”

//

During the ride back to his place, he does the little things that make your heart race even if you think it wouldn’t. He has a hand on your thigh, soft and gentle as he rubs his palm over the silky material of your dress. The low rumbling from the radio does nothing to calm your erratic heartbeat but when Jimin ever so casually spares you a glance every now and then, it seems to have an effect on you to calm down. He smiles at you and if that wasn’t enough to set your heart to a flight mode straight to the sky, you don’t know what is.

You hadn’t realize you’ve reached the destination until Jimin makes a move to give you a squeeze with the remaining hand on you. Flinching, you turn your cheek to come eye to eye with him. Since when did he lean in so close? His breath hitches but he doesn’t make a move. Instead, he gives a nudge with a light line over the tip of your nose with his own, his voice coming out in a soft whisper of air, “We’re here,”

Gulping, you regain composure and place your hand on his, giving it a nudge to have his palm slipping away and he catches the hint of skin that shows as the hem of your dress slides up. He’s certain he knows what you’re doing to him when you sway your hips with an extra twist as you stand up. His brows perk up but before he can savour the tinge of tease you’re seasoning him with, he gets a grip on himself, scoffing a laugh as he watches you get out from the car with minimal effort; standing in heels before you toss your hair over your shoulder as you look over it with a cheeky grin, as well as making his heart thrash from left to right with hard beats.

He’s following your cue to get out and he wraps his hand in yours naturally that it makes your head spin, dizzy from how tonight is filled with circles connecting one another to complete perfection. It’s more than you can ever ask for and for a brief moment, walking with him into the building with his smile curved up to please, you almost forget the initial reason why you’re here. But you can pretend for a while, right?

To be frank, you were rather nervous. Despite guidance from Taehyung (a hint of sass from Jungkook) and the preparations taken with the rules sealed down, it was hard to keep calm. Sure, you’ve had sex before. Getting paid and offering your body in return after? That was something new. Still, you keep to your youth and your will to show him you’re one hell of a surprise to begin with. And it seems like he’s on the same page without words when the both of you step into the confinement of his apartment.

From the dark walls with the pure white leather sofas lined up, your jaw drops. The chandelier hangs beautiful in the middle, dazzling lights twinkling as the moonlight glistens around the diamond carvings. The choice of white tiles is perfect with the slick, black marble tables of his choice—a square coffee table directly below said chandelier, lightbulbs hanging through the column of the corridor down to where you exactly think it leads to.

You had braced yourself for his place to look expensive, extravagant even but not to this extent as the splashes of gold compliments the black almost every corner you turn to, which is pretty much really. Jimin lets out a soft chuckle as he stares at your reaction. After putting your heels aside and closing the door, he thought you would’ve gotten used to it. But as he stands beside you, mischief eyes and a smirk, not yet, as it seems.

“I’ll take it as you like it?” He muses, velvet voice singing into your ears and it sends chills down to your spine, keeping you upright as you turn to look at him, “Please excuse my language but holy fuck this place is gorgeous,” You’re back to being in awe, much to Jimin’s laugh that echoes and bounces off the walls, into your ears that you repeat once more as your fingertips brush over the cold stone of a beautifully sculpted dragon beside you, “Fucking amazing…”

Jimin gives you a couple more seconds before he decides it’s time for you to have the stars in your eyes for something else rather than his furnishing and the interior of his apartment. He silently steps behind you, taking you by surprise when his arm is strong against your waist, yet with a certain delicacy that offers you a leeway to take charge. His fingers strum up to your hip, his other casually slipped into his pocket as he murmurs into your ear, “Let’s not get carried away now, shall we?”

You feel his chest tightening when you snicker, but he’s relaxing in an instant when you lean back, making sure the curve your back and all the way down touches somewhere Jimin’s confined for far too long since dinner. He gasps as you press yourself to him, voice breathy as you look over your shoulder, spelling them out on his lips and Jimin only wonders if he’s ever felt this hot and heavy before during his youthful years, “Bedroom.”

“Fuck me,” Jimin grunts, unable to resist the urge to twist you around, pressing his lips to yours with such urgency it’s making your stomach churn, toes curling with excitement. His arm remains against the lower of your back, right above your waist to lever you down as he parts his lips and drawls his tongue out on the seam of your lips. He feels your grin before you grant him permission to kiss you deeper and with the leg that trails up his ankle, over his calf, up to his thigh as your legs hug him closer, he stutters and his teeth clicks with yours. Chuckling, you sling your arms around his neck, tugging his collar down, revealing enough so you can attach your lips to his skin. He gasps, an arm keeping you near, his other hand raking through your hair as you start to suck and nibble on his flesh; the mix of purple and red threatening to form as you murmur in between, “C’mon, handsome. This is your apartment,”

Growling, Jimin gives a tug on your hair enough to make your stomach clench. A mewl drawn from your lips as he pins you with eyes filled with lust and need you can’t resist. “Jump,” He orders, hands already flicking your dress up, enough for your legs to move freely. His arms come around to steady you as you do as you’re told. Legs wrapped around his figure, steady hands balancing you carefully as if you’re a fine piece of china he can’t bear to break,  he’s the one trying not to break as he makes his way to his bedroom. For a moment, he goes blank and forgets how to coordinate his body when you’re doing things that makes his head suffocate in the haze of pleasure. Your tongue licks a stripe on the skin of his neck, hips rutting in his that gets him to stop walking. The slam against the cement of the wall has you whimpering, despite the material of the dress softening the impact, the exposed part of your back regrets being out in the open.

“Keep doing that and we’re going to play dirty, baby girl,” He grits past his teeth, hot and heavy breath after breath and his half-lidded eyes drives you insane. Much similar to your bruised lips and teary eyes from the pleasure, yet, fearless like your age as you lean forward to coax him out with your lips on his. He groans, pulling you off the wall, resuming his pace towards his bedroom and he signals the arrival when a door clicks shut behind the you.

Again, if he had assumed this was going down the way he wanted like in the movies, he had another thing coming.

As he settles down on the bed, seated, your hips encasing his the way it should be, his eyes snap open as your lips detach from his and you’re on your feet. His hands move faster than his mind, grasping onto your hips, “H-Hey—“

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, in a voice that’s thick as honey, smothering down his lips and over his jaw before he looks at you with a panting chest. Easing your hands on his shoulders, you give him a short massage to get him to relax, in which he does when his breathing regulates and his eyes are dark as the night as he stares at your every move. When you have him where you want him, which is now, beneath you and staring up to you for mercy, it’s where it starts; the point of beginning and there’s no going back.

One of your hand trails up to his black locks, running your fingers through them and the other snaking down to his chest; voice of pure sin as it slithers into Jimin’s ears, spelling out the meaning of eurphoria with light, taunting touches.

“So, do you remember what the rules are or am I going to have to repeat them for you… Jiminie?”

He gapes at you taking charge, daring to call him with a nickname out of nowhere despite him being older and just getting comfortable. Either way, he doesn’t seem to mind, legs propping open wider, head tipped up to match yours lingering down as he voices out what he thinks. “I believe I’ve got everything in check…” His hands trail up to your bottom, gripping onto your cheeks firmly as he smirks at your moan, head falling back. “…but a reminder couldn’t hurt,”

Oh, it’s going to hurt. You smirk, keeping your thoughts discrete with your plan as you’re quick to reincorporate with his gameplay. Balancing one hand on his shoulder, you reach back for one of his, drawing it up to reach the zipper of your dress. His breath hitches as you make him drag it down in a tantalizing pace, yet, your voice filling in the spaces between when it’s starting to get quiet. That’s the last thing that’s going to happen tonight.

“First off,” Jimin reaches the end as the words roll off your tongue and he can’t help but stare as you force his hands to follow yours, peeling the clothing off starting with the straps from your shoulders. You hadn’t notice how cold his fingertips are but they’re easily heating up when they graze over your skin, scraped off like wildfire when the lines slide off and they hang around your waist, revealing the lacy lingerie you had put on for him. He’s shameless as he stares at what you have to offer; white wrapped around the crevices and Jimin licks his lips in anticipation. He’s about to touch but just as he does, your hand grabs his chin, directing them up to your eyes as your voice is apprehensive, his dick kicking at the bass of your tone, “You fuck me and only me,”

He resumes what he has in mind, taking over briefly as he drifts his hand down, squeezing your breasts generously and it hikes up a whine of his name. “Second,” He rasps, swallowing any doubts and he’s swift with his clothes, completely removing his dress shirt; unbuttoning one and pulling it off his head when he’s gotten that out of the way. He takes pride in his body, smirking at the way your hands nimbly brush over the expanse of his chest, down to his abdomen and then to the line of his jeans. When your eyes wander a bit too far where he want you to, it’s his turn to cup your chin, nudging it back up as he lines his eyes straight to yours with a look so intense, you feel your knees buckling, “You fuck me and only me,”

The feeling is mutual when you’re nodding, dropping to your knees and guiding him to get his jeans out of the way. When he’s flicked his belt open, he straps it off and tosses it to the side, the clink hitting the floor reminding you of what’s left undone that you continue speaking. “Third,” You rise up to your feet when he shimmies his jeans off, with your guide to tug them off and to the side where it’s out of your reach. You’re about to finish your sentence but he decides to stand, maneuvering you around to push you down onto the bed and you’re having quite the view as he drags his underwear down and off, his hard length smacked to his stomach almost instantaneously after. He’s thick and with a length you know you’ll enjoy, the licking of your lips has him chuckling as he strokes your cheek with his hand, gazing into your eyes lovingly as if he’s not bare and hard for you, “You were saying?”

“G-Getting tested. Together,” Your words are barely audible but he catches the words as he hums, stalking off to the drawers and pulling out what you assume is a condom. When he returns, he drops the packet at the sight of you with your lingerie in your hands, following where the condom lies when your fingers release the lacy material. He gapes, eyes widening at your bare body glowed with the moonlight. Your eyes point at the shiny silver packet on the floor and he picks it up hastily, stumbling back to you and tackling down on the bed with his lips desperate to kiss you.

He moans when you rake your nails down his back, his lips kissing you everywhere possible when he travels down your body, worshipping almost every part as he goes. He stops at the spot where you want him but he doesn’t give it to you until you continue speaking, “Fourth,” Your breath almost gets stuck in your throat when he hums, sliding a finger into your wet heat and you’re going delirious. Jimin seems to adore the way your back arches, voice hoarse and your hand coming down to his head for support, “F-Fuck, Jimin—four…“ Your voice trails of a bit, out of track before you gain some senses to continue speaking.

“Fourth,” You repeat, just as he’s adding another finger, pumping in with ease and you cry out when his fingers glide in with minimal effort. He rises up to your body, fingers hooked inside of you as he kisses your cheek, his other hand pinning you down by the waist as he continues to prep you, sliding his fingers in and out as he murmurs, “Go on, I’m listening,”

You clutch onto his wrist, forbidding his hand from continuing just to get out in a rushed breath, past your heavily blushing cheeks and sweaty skin, “Aftercare is essential,”

“Of course,” His words are promising, actions even more when your grip loosens and he shoves in three fingers to stretch you nicely, voice pitching up through the cry of his name as you grab onto his shoulders. He circles an arm around your waist to hold you there, his fingers never stopping to get you wetter and his movements are languid, pace kicking up in speed to have you whining in his neck, thighs trembling. He slows down to let you breathe, your chest expanding as he leans to press his forehead on yours to say, “Fifth—kinks are talked of before proceeding. Consent is needed,”

Mustering a cracked okay past your sore throat, you kiss him and he gladly obliges, removing his fingers and you feel him searching around your lower region with moist fingers. You’re about to question him, or in this case, maybe state out another rule but then he touches you right there and your body surges through with pleasure. He grins when he manages to find your clit, using two fingers, the lubrication of your arousal to press tight circles and it’s making your jaw grow slack, “J-Jimin!”

“Sixth,” He ignores your pleas, the desperate clutching on his shoulders as he gets you to speak, “What’s the sixth one, baby girl?”

Your eyes clench shut when he rests his thumb on your clit, three fingers used earlier to dive in past your folds and you’re in the verge of tears as you choke on your own voice. He shows you a bit of mercy, easing his thumb movements to slow rubs and his fingers stilling from inside, allowing you to think straight. Past your blinked tears and stained cheeks, you look up to him to murmur, “A-Any day is fine, except—“

“Thursdays,” He finishes for you, maybe to showcase that he truly cares and listens but you don’t question too much on it, until he adds in, “Double shifts, I know,”

In the midst of heavy breathing and reddened skin, you manage to smile at him, the same time he does to you as if his fingers isn’t in the middle of fucking you ready, “You remember,”

His brows does that thing—raising a little out of cockiness, remaining the humble side of him when he doesn’t overdo it. He reminds you of the current situation and that’s when your hands fall to grasp onto the sheets instead (whatever this is made of, you’ll apologize for being too rough on it later). His thumb harshly digs into your clit and his fingers curl where his fingertips brush upon a spot that has your voice ragged, in contrast to his smoothly filling your ears, “I take this very seriously, don’t you know that?” He puts emphasis as he gives you thrusts with the flick of his wrists.

“Oh God,” Your hand snatches onto his, away from your folds as you look up to him, “I do know I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,”

“And what’s wrong with that?” He cocks an eyebrow, only to have it falter when you smirk because he’s not the only one with confidence to dirty talk, “Wouldn’t you want me to with your cock?”

“Fucking—“Jimin doesn’t even finish his sentence, moving around to grab onto the condom where he rips the packet apart without hesitation, the foil coming off and the latex rolling on as you taunt him by dragging your fingers on his thighs, which they flex under your touch and you gasp. He turns back to you with a gaze so lustful, your lungs contract at the lack of air, mouth agape as you grab his neck and lure him down to kiss you, supply the air you need to breathe. He steadies himself with a grip on the headboard, his other lining himself up and just as he slides in, he presses his palm down on your stomach the same time you press your lips up to his.

Moans are exchanged, tongues mingle with one another as your hands slide up his thighs to his waist, holding him there as he reaches all the way in, deep in you, lips no different as he kisses you fervently. Your hands move back up, one resting on the spot on his shoulder, the other raking up through his hair and then tugging him back so you can speak, “Seven,” You exhale deeply, trying to adjust to his size, making it seem like him being balls deep in you isn’t anything sinful at all as you try to get the words out right. His eyes widen, dilating with the need to listen when this isn’t part of the rules.

“No gifts. I just want a personal tutor,”

His hold on the headboard releases, so he has a hand to brush the hair away from your face, his hovering above yours as he says, “We didn’t exactly agree on that. What if I want to get you a tutor and buy you gifts?”

“Doesn’t work that way, old man,” You grunt, legs wrapped around his figure, using the heel of your foot to knead into his bottom to get him growling, “I’m only four years older,”

“Still older,” You poke your tongue past your lips, that like a switch completely loses humor when he tests what he’s up for with the rolling of his hips,  a little reminder that he’s in you. You whimper when he pulls out, clenching around nothing but air until he slides back in, grasping onto your chin and tilting it down so he can kiss you again. Again and again as he thrusts harder and faster, to the point where you’re about to forget everything and anything, tossed into the oblivion except for the letters of his name when they fall out from your lips like a symphony.

He holds down your wrists by the sides of your head and that slowly transitions to his hands slipping into yours, fingers coming between as you rock your body up to his, meeting each thrust halfway that drags Jimin’s jaw down to moan your name into the air clouded with sex and heat. You can tell past your half-opened eyes when he pulls away, thumping his forehead on yours, his pace relentless as he chases for your orgasm, that he wants to speak. But when you’re clenching your walls down on him, moaning his name in a voice that cracks his train of thought, he’s losing it.

But he’ll make sure you’re losing it first.

His hands pry away from yours, sweat trickling down your temples and he wipes them away before he glides his hand down between your bodies. You’re holding onto him, hands clutched onto his shoulders that escalates to nails down his back then arms around his neck as he reaches for your clit once more. You cry out when he has the nerve to lazily nudge his thumb on your clit, cursing into his shoulder, biting his flesh before you payback with a harsh clench that gets him riled up to the edge.

He picks it up, rough thrusts and rigidly grinding his thumb harder until you feel nothing but his touch, his cock thrusting in and out and him, him, him. “J-Jimin—I’m gonna—oh fuck!” Jimin seems to understand what’s about to happen; the telltales of you coming as your thighs quake, the grip around him contracting and the erratic clenches of your muscles as Jimin fucks you through to pleasure. You spill and coat him with your release and Jimin doesn’t think he’ll ever get a better sight of you thrashing beneath him, moaning his name out and the syllables travel straight to his cock as he pulsates inside of you. He stutters on his thrusts and that’s when you find the strength to flip him over despite how strong he is and from his protest, it snaps into a sharp cry when you sink down on him and get him to lose control.

With a few precise rolling of your hips, he comes with a loud moan when you punctuate your words: come for me, Jiminie, each syllable milking his release until Jimin’s letting out a string of profanities in various versions that has you chuckling as you ride out your highs. His room gathers the sound of heavy breaths and slick movements of skin upon skin that slide with the ease of sweat. Even with that, neither of you move, Jimin growing soft and a mess of residue left on his bed but he doesn’t mind.

He takes his cue to roll over on his bed, slipping out from you as he bends down to kiss you. It brings a smile to your face, lethargically kissing him back as your hands come up to frame his face with such delicacy in contrast to how you were gripping and scratching him a moment ago—and in this case, Jimin likes both. A smile forms as he pulls away, locking eyes with you and it’s hard to keep up but you do when he spares you one more kiss on your lips.

You realize he’s speaking once he gets up from his bed, removing the used condom into the bin and returning with a damp cloth after. Still, he notices how you don’t decipher his words even after he chuckles, so he decides not to speak about it just yet. He gets you clean, warm and  purring out of delight. He pulls you to the spot on the bed that’s slightly cleaner and tucks you in his arms after. The blanket comes of your naked bodies and Jimin rests his chin on your shoulder, firm chest pressed up to your back as your limbs tangle together. Your hands slide over his forearms and you look over your shoulder, finally processing his voice as he repeats what he said not too long ago.

“Eight, I’m paying whatever that’s left for your tuition fees,”

Eyes growing into confusion, lips curling to a frown, you lick your lips and turn around in Jimin’s hold, to which he still keeps his arms around you, “J-Jimin, no. No, I can’t accept that—“

“Either that or gifts. Which one would you prefer?” You forget that you’re dealing with someone who’s mighty good in persuasion and that you can’t quite argue with him even if you wanted to. Although he’s given you reasons not to reject, it’s hard. Money doesn’t fall from the sky and you’re certain Jimin’s taken quite a while to gathered up the amount he has now. Doesn’t matter if he has a mountain or a swimming pool filled with checks, you can’t.

“Jimin… I really, really can’t… The tutor was our agreement,”

“So was the gifts,” He pins you with a look, one that you pout at with hands gingerly playing behind his neck, “But the tutor was practical… gifts are not…”

“They are to me,” He speaks up, nudging you closer and planting a tender kiss to your forehead that you can’t differentiate if he did that out of affection or if he wants to make you feel better. Either way, you’re not complaining. “So here’s what. I’ll pay for your fees, limit to getting you gifts once a month and you can pay the tutor on your own. Sound fair?”

Grinning, your eyes curl up to something Jimin thinks is one of the most endearing things ever; the way they disappear when you smile too hard, your arms slipped around him tight as you lean into his shoulder. He gladly welcomes you in and kisses the side of your head. He strokes your hip with his fingers, then smoothening over your skin on your back all over as you take in deep breaths, fanning his neck. He leans back and the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is the beauty of your smile playing on your lips.

[pick3mahlord]

Anti’s Motivations: A Proposal

This theory is based in large part upon this post, which I highly recommend reading first, both because it’s pertinent to this one, and because it’s an interesting point in its own right. I’ve been thinking about this on and off for a while now.

@bayobayo I hope you’ll forgive any unintentional twisting of your words for this, because I’d like to borrow from and expound upon it in my own view, theory-wise. @fear-is-nameless​ @no-strings-puppet @rogue-of-broken-time @viostormcaller @hufflepufftrax  Idunno, maybe some fragments here will interest you?

Supposing Anti really is more or less just an antivirus/firewall-type program whose sole purpose is to protect Jack from what he perceives as harmful influences, then we could actually look at a lot of the main events in these terms:

Anti is supposed to function as an antivirus, but he’s gone rogue. He’s corrupt. Yeah, obvious point is frikkin’ obvious, I know. No.

Anti is a half-corrupt program. He performed his function quietly in the background for years, but now he goes too far. Ever since 2k16, the pressure on both of them mounted past a certain point and he’s started to tear at the seams, becoming progressively more violent and forceful and possibly even confused. I don’t think they’re on good terms with each other at all - Jack seems terrified of him, because he's attacking the egos and they are parts of Jack, they’re his friends.

It’s the same as an autoimmune disease; Anti mistakes his orders and accidentally harms Jack in trying to help him, attacking the egos and us as the source of the stress in order to make it stop, regardless of the outcome. He ignores Jack's questions at the end of Dark Silence and instead heads directly towards the camera, towards the viewer. And all Jack can do - all the *sane* parts of Anti can do - is warn us. Run. Flee. Get out. Anti as a whole has toed the mark further and further, becoming more and more unstable and violent and farther from his original coding until “Save you from threats” becomes the logical error, “I will save you by force, even at the cost of yourself.”

But as I’ve said, in this theory Anti is only half-corrupt.

The other half is still trying to go by his original coding, and he himself is split in two, fighting both for his blood-thirsty actions and to rectify the consequences of those actions again and again, without barely any knowledge of doing so. All he would see is that "something" has harmed Jack severely. To the point of death, actually. Jack died in Bio Inc. We all saw it, live in front of a studio audience. His well-meaning interference with the procedure resulted in Jack flatlining. But Anti is not outwardly bothered by this; he just picks up the pieces, blathers on with his demented speech about control, blames us as always and disappears. “Why don’t YOU save him!?” Which brings me to my next point: why is he alive but in a coma now, if we all saw him clearly dead on the table?

After Jack died, Anti went back to try and change things and bring him back. A clean slate, a full system restore. Back to the beginning of things, to the pumpkin carving video, to the point where he himself started to corrupt and it all went wrong. If Anti is a firewall, then poor old ancient JJ is MS-DOS, and he meant to use him as a sort of tool.

As a restore point.

He mutters to himself in complaint at first (”Jeepers, that’s far too early!”), but he has no other choice than to use the first thing he finds, no matter how far back it sets everything else. It should still work to retrieve Jack in an unbroken state, at least. 

But even as a small portion of himself is trying to help, the rest of him continues to corrupt, and as soon as he gets into the system files (Jack's "self," if you will), that coding kicks in to take over there too, glitching JJ and spreading further into everything else around it. Resetting time, yes, and reversing Jack’s death, but also corrupting Anti's would-be starting point and making the sickness even worse. Confusing things, sending fractures into what was already a delicate system. He's an antivirus that has forgotten its purpose and BECOME a virus.

For some reason, this change still did succeed in bringing Jack back to life, so it must have at least half-worked, even if his character file, per se, is unusable. For the moment, he basically is stuck in safe mode. A computer that still has power running to it and still retains the ability to turn on, but refuses for some reason to boot.

To wake up.

[agl03]

In The Little Moments

Well now that the dust has settled and we are now into hiatus I wanted to get this meta off my chest and out into the Universe.  

I know the fandom, myself included, were disappointed at how the Fitzsimmons aspect of last season was done.  From the record low screen time together, the ‘reward we’d waited for’ not really being the reward WE wanted or what was hyped, and then the fallout post Framework.  We already have a pile of fix it fics out there that could have made things a lot better.  

I also stand by my analysis that the writers thought it was enough.   In the past the Fitzsimmons fandom hasn’t been a hard fandom to please. with something like a handhold and sandwich sustaining us for months.   And when we go back episode by episode and we had a moment or two nearly every episode, which is amazing.  They have us tons of ‘little moments’.

We should build a place to get away, lingering hand holds, and bed cuddles.

Fitzsimmonsing in the lab/cue Jemma gasping

They both had HUGE hero moments separately and you don’t have to live in the shadows anymore.

Love Nest shopping, casual “I Love You’s,”, “The Look”, and The Lean tm with I prefer a Classical Beauty.

“The Look” pt 2 and fight

Fitz losing is crap because he couldn’t get ahold of Jemma.

Everyone ships them, everyone knows how much they mean to each other, ‘she’s out there all alone and I’m gone”, and glorious reunion hugs.

Fitzsimmonsing in the lab, working together, comforting touches (cue creeper AIDA), double shot, and couch cuddles.

Fitz made the electric bobbi pin and no one can tell me otherwise.  But yes there was a distinct lack of moments here.

Fitzsimmonsing in the lab, sassing Talbot, and The Lean tm part two with adorable flirting.  

KISS (short kiss but dang it it was the first one in forever), fight, protective get away from him Jemma with Dadcliffe.

Has to be one of my top eps.  Fitzsimmonsing in the lab, backstory, protective/supportive Jemma, face grab kisses, adoring looks, and more Fitzsimmonsing.

Fitzsimmonsing in the lab and in the field.  Supporting new step dad Mace and don’t get yourself killed hugs.

Supportive Jemma, hand holds, Davis bit (rip Davis), and more scared hand holds.

THE FEELS!  Protectiveness, more feels, oh god more feels, Fitz wants to propose, Jemma wants to say yes, more feels, I can’t think without Fitz, this is not where your story ends, and Jemma going to get her man back.  

Jemma dug herself out of the grave...and yeah we don’t talk about the rest.

His name is Leopold James Fitz and I love him.   And for good measure more feels.  

Jemma driven to get to him and AIDA driven to make sure that didn’t happen.  

AIDA pretty much confirms she’s took Fitz for herself here to Daisy.

No matter what Jemma would not say that she meant nothing to him.  

My love for will never fade, only room in his heart for her, and the most beautiful reunion hug ever.  Oh and the evil robot thought what they had was so amazing she tried to steal it for herself.

FItzsimmonsing...kinda, decoy Fitzsimmons, and AMEN!

Theirs is a forever love.

I can only speak for myself as to why that impressive list didn’t feel like ‘enough’.  And its that while those little moments would have totally done it in past seasons.  Fitzsimmons has grown, not only are they now in a relationship and I expected to see at least a little more of that.  I expected to see them actually working and being together more.  If someone had told me at the beginning of the season we’d see more kisses for FItz when he was brainwashed into a relationship in the Framework vs. Fitzsimmons I would have come up with a nice long meta as to why that wouldn’t have happened.   

It was also they hype there was over selling.  IE us and Jed have very different understanding of what words like reward mean.  

This was also coupled with they went too far with Fitz in the Framework and they grossly underestimated the toll that and the whole thing with AIDA would take on the fandom.  Nor do I feel that was their original intention.  I do think originally we were going to get more of a Dadcliffe thing where it was indeed Radcliffe manipulating him in the Framework and then they jumped tracks and went with AIDA since they were so happy with Mallory.  

As I’ve said they crossed the line between fun and frustration.  

And Season 4 is in the books all we can do now is fix it fic the hades out of it over hiatus.  

But that also means I’m going into Season 5 with a very VERY different set of expectations.  This is more for self preservation for myself than anything else but if anyone else wants to follow along that is great.

We are a very lucky fandom with tons of very talented authors.  Last hiatus was fluffy fic fest 2k16 and so far I was right and we are in the midst of recovery fic fest 2k17.   I need to be ready for the recovery arc they have set up for Fitz and Fitzsimmons won’t get the attention it does in our fics.  So just as we didn’t get kisses and cuddles all the time in Season 4 we aren’t going to get a lot of really wonderful discussions on recovery and healing in Season 5.

I am going to be careful with any and all interviews. 

The Jeff’s:  Troll us...though Loeb was not wrong with his “This young man as you’ve never seen him before,” with Iain.

Jed and Mo:  Doesn’t outright lie but will over embellish or mislead.  Also these are the ones that know their endgame.  So even though he says Marriage is something that will “come up” again it might not be “soon” (another word us and the writers have a different meaning for).

Cast:  They have to be so careful in what they say and they get the scripts right before.  For example Iain had the ‘sit down’ with the writers for his arc but Lil wasn’t privy to it.  Lil being happy could be her just happy they are filming together again not that Fitzsimmons have a Love Nest in Space and a baby on the way.

My expectations are back to pre season 4 levels where I am happy to have them in the same room, know who each other are, don’t have a ton of angst, and are not kidnapped.

Know we will get some nice moments like we did this season.  But those moments will be smaller...big ones will come out of no where.

Pray that the writing team has seen a fraction of our feedback and taken it to heart.

Essentially plan for the worst and hope for the best.

I know Fitzsimmons is endgame.  I know there will be more obstacles for us to get there...fingers crossed they will face them together.  

[fantasticfantfoursticfanworkfest]

the fantastic fantfourstic fanwork fest, also known as the FFFF, is making a comeback for 2017! 

to refresh, the FFFF is a time to celebrate (”celebrate”) the movie fantastic four (2015). I’ve run out of hilarious testimonial soundbites, so I’ll just say outright that this movie is not a very good movie. tommy wiseau wants to direct a hypothetical sequel though so at least we’ve got that going for us. moving on

the FFFF runs for nine days straight, from august 7th to the 15th. the first eight days feature unique themes (a few graced us with their presence for FFFF 2k16, but the majority are brand new!) while the final day is a chance to play around with anything you want. as always, all types of fanwork are encouraged throughout the event, and don’t feel obligated to create something for every available theme. this event is about having fun, so do whatever makes you happiest. 

here’s this year’s crop of themes!

august 7th, day one: “FIX-IT.” might as well get this one out of the way first. you know the drill - pick up the broken pieces of this movie and make something better out of them. 

august 8th, day two: “FAME.” lights, camera, action! play around in the cheeseball celebrity AU you always dreamed about, or figure out how to bring this motley gang of superheroes into the public eye for the first time. 

august 9th, day three: “FORESIGHT.” groundhog day loops, precognitive episodes, straight up time travel, or just “I have a bad feeling about this” - let’s see what happens differently on the second (third, fourth, fifth) time around. 

august 10th, day four: “FLUFF.” the triumphant return of romcom day! now’s your chance to give these kids a proper happy ending for once.

august 11th, day five: “FOOLISHNESS.” YES, @caramelton, YOU GET YOUR OWN DAY, STOP PESTERING ME ABOUT IT. audience, you’re free to choose one of caramelton’s awful, awful theme suggestions, or you can come up with a crackfic nightmare of your own.

august 12th, day six: “FLIGHT.” this one’s a trifle more open-ended. maybe you don’t know whether you’re running away or running to, but at least you’re traveling in style. 

august 13th, day seven: “FATE.” if FORESIGHT was about changing destiny, FATE is about letting it carry you, for better or for worse. anyway, where are my soulmate AUs at.

august 14th, day eight: “FOUND.” whether you’re going back to the beginning or just searching through the wreckage of the finale, at the end of the day, maybe we just need some reassurance that not everything is lost.

august 15th, day nine: “FREE-FOR-ALL.” theme open season! if you missed the deadline for a previous day, feel free to post it today. trying something new isn’t half bad, either. 

as said above, the FFFF starts on august 7th! we’re launching the theme list early this year, so there’s plenty of time to prepare. when the day comes, just remember to tag your contributions as #FFFF 2k17. if you have any other questions or comments, drop them in the askbox, or contact me directly at @kyakuuu. cheers!

[tmnt-fangirl101]

TMNT Fic Evermore 2k16 Raph x Reader

My first TMNT one shot fic ever. I hope you guys like it. I hope to write more in the future.

Summary: you’re dating the rebel Raphael. You miss home but a certain turtle is worried you may leave him and go back home and leave him forever.

Y/N- Your name

S/N- State name

Song: Evermore (Beauty and the Beast)

Warnings: none

Enjoy :)

You lived in New York for about a year now and this there were times where you missed your family. You had no friends or family in New York with you so its natural you start missing them. You went down to the lair to see a certain big, green, red clad turtle ninja who was also your boyfriend. It hadn’t been long since the two of started officially dating. You were always so happy and excited to see him when ever you went and visit but something was different about you today, you didn’t seem so happy.

“Hey tiger ya doing alright?” He asked you. You look down to your feet fiddling with your fingers for the past 15 minutes trying to think of something to say. You look back up to meet his golden green eyes as he gazes deeply in yours. “(Y/N) are you okay? You’re not your usual self..” He asks. 

“I’m fine” you say “its just…I guess i’m just feeling a little home sick is all…” you say. “Home sick?” He asks.

“Yes I miss my family from back home. I want to go visit them soon but not sure when that will be.” You turn your gaze from him too sad to look into his eyes.

Of course he wanted you to be happy and go back and see them. So he does what any good boyfriend would do to comfort you. He took your hand gently and raised it to his chest.

“Then you should go be with them..” you look up at him in shock. Did he really just say what you think he said?

“What?” You asked still a bit confused and shocked.

“You should go to them, if you miss your family, Id never want to keep you away from something so important to you.

“But-” you were about to retort then you were hushed by a giant green finger to your mouth.

“Ill be alright, but you should go be with them, that’s where you need to be ill see you when you get back.” He smiled at you reassuring you it was okay.

You took his hand and raised it to your the left side of your cheek to feel his warmth. “Alright i’m leaving in a few days, ill miss you” you said as you smiled up at him and returned one back to you before he leaned down to kiss you on your lips.

It was the next day and it was time for you to get going back to where you came from to visit your family. You were excited but nervous to see them. You missed them so much and they missed you. But you hoped the visited would be everything you hopped for. Since the boys could only come out at night to do patrolling you waited till night fall so they could see you off. Lucky for you your flight was leaving at night anyway so it wasn’t a big deal at all. Plus it would give you more time with your turtle boyfriend before you left.

“Are ya excited” he asked as he looked at you sitting on his workout bench. He just got through doing a really heavy work out.

“Yea I guess I am, just a bit nervous.” You admittingly say to him as you looked down to your feet.

“Don’t worry i’m sure your family misses you as much as you miss them.” He said.

“Yea but I cant help but feel something may go wrong. What if the visit wont go well?” You look at him searching for some for some reassurance. He looked deeply in your eyes and held you tightly in his strong arms.

“The visit will go well, I promise.” He said.

“Thanks Raph.” you say as you placed a light kiss on his cheek.

Night approached and you were all had arrived at the New York airport. Casey and April were there for support and made sure you got on the plane safely.

“Well this is my stop.” you tell everyone as they look at you with sadness in their eyes but understanding.

“Wow I cant believe you’re really leaving us” the orange clad ninja turtle says to you.

“I’m not leaving to stay Mikey i’m going to visit. I’ll be back soon I promise, the visit is just two weeks long.

“Okay well while you’re there bring me back a souvenir from there!” He gets happy again.

“Will do Mikey.” You smile and laugh a little.

“Thanks Angel cake’s.” He says as he pulls you in for a big hug.

“We’re gonna miss you while you’re gone.” Leo says as he smiles at you.

“I’m gonna miss you guys too. You’re all like my second family.” You tell him.

“Tell us all about the adventure you had back at home.” Donnie said.

“Yea we wanna hear everything when you get back.” Mikey said.

“Don’t worry guys I will.” You said giving them a smile. You said your goodbyes to April and Casey and finally went to your boyfriend.

 You both just stare at each other for a minute not saying a word. “So…” Raph finally says trying to break the silence between the two of you. “Are ya still a bit nervous?” He asked you.

“Yea I am, but I know i’ll be okay.” You say looking up into his eyes. You both give each other a big hug. Raph knew the right thing to do was to let you go back and visit your family right?

But what if you missed your family so much you end up moving there permanently and forget all about your other family at New York. Surely you wouldn’t. You made a new life there. You can’t just abandon them..abandon him. Raph was starting to think hard about the whole thing but didn’t want you to worry about anything.

(I was the one who had it all. I was the master of my fate. I never needed anybody in my life. I learned the truth too late.)

You look at him one last time as you walk inside the airport with April and Casey as the boys watch to make sure you get in.

(I’ll never shake away the pain. I close my eyes but she’s still there. I let her steal into my melancholy heart. It’s more than I can bear.)

You give Casey and April one last goodbye hug as they escort you to your plane safely. Raph climbed on top of the building and leaps on the roof making sure you get on the plane safely.

(Now I know she’ll never leave me. Even as she runs away. She will still torment me. Calm me hurt me, move me, come what may. Wasting in my lonely tower, waiting by an open door. Ill fool myself she’ll walk right in. And be with me forever more.)

(I rage against the trials of love. I curse the fading of the light.)

He watches as your plane takes off.

(Though shes already flown so far beyond my reach. Shes never out of site)

(Now I know she’ll never leave me. Even as she runs away. She will still inspire me be apart of everything I do. Wasting in my lonely tower. Waiting by an open door. Ill fool myself she’ll walk right in. And as the long ling nights begin. Ill think think of all that might have been. Waiting here forever more!)

Those two weeks had passed but to Raph it seemed like an eternity since you left. Tomorrow would be the day you finally come back from your trip and the boys were ecstatic to see you. Though you guys did communicate everyday and sent texts it just wasn’t the same as seeing you in person. Though as excited Raph was too he couldn’t help but feel you’d never come back or worse you tell them you want to move back there forever. He just couldn’t take it, so he goes to the one place he feels more comfortable at. The gym.

Leo walks in and sees his brother. “Hey aren’t you excited? (Y/N) is finally coming back!” Leo tells his brother.

Raph sits up on his bench whipping the sweat from his head. “Yea” he says not saying anything else.

Leo gave him a look of confusion. “You don’t sound too excited like the rest of us” he says still looking at Raph.

Raph gets up from his bench and walks out ignoring his brother. He did miss you he was just nervous seeing you again. What if you didn’t love him anymore? What everything wasn’t the same? What if you really wanted to stay there? He couldn’t get that out his mind.

You had just arrived from the airport and Casey and April were there to greet you and take you back to your apartment.

“So how was the trip back to (S/N)?” Asked Casey.

“It was great I got to see everyone I missed and it was just great being back there. I really needed that.” You replied.

“It must be hard being away hundreds of miles away from home like that.” April said.

“Though as much as I missed everyone back at home I did miss everyone here. You all have become a second family to me.”

“We feel the same way too.” April said and Casey agreed.

After you got settled in back at your apartment you were anxious to get over to the lair and see everyone again. Even a certain green turtle you missed so much. When you arrived you were greeted a certain orange banded turtle.

“ANGEL CAKE’S!” He says as he runs up and hugs you and you return the hug.

“Hey Mikey.” You laugh and smile up at him. “How are you?” You ask him.

“I’m doing better now that you’re back babe.” He says.

“Aww i’m glad. Where is everyone?” You ask.

“Splinters watering his garden, Leos in the dojo meditating, Donnie’s in his lab and Raph is probably working out in the gym.” He says.

As if on timing Leo and Donnie both stopped what they’re doing and came into the living room. They both rushed over to you and hugged you.

“(Y/N) you’re back!” Leo said excitedly as he let you go.

“How was (S/N)?” Donnie asked.

“It was wonderful. I really enjoyed my visit. And it was nice seeing everyone again. But I missed here it here even more, because of you guys.” You smile at them. “Wheres Raph?” You ask.

“Last time I saw him he was in the gym.” He said.

“Thank you.” You say as you rush right over to the gym.

“Raph!” You scream his name as hes still lifting weights. “Raph its me!” He ignores you and continues lifting. “RAPHAEL!” You scream his full name and you wonder if you did something wrong. “Raph why are you ignoring me?!” You were starting to get a bit frustrated. He got up and walked toward the door not once looking at you. You follow after him.

“Raphael whats wrong with you? Aren’t you happy to see me?” He stops as you get in front of him. Seriously whats gotten into him? Why was he acting like you don’t even exist? “Why are you being such a jerk? Am I not important to you anymore? Are you over me? Did I..did I do something wrong?” You were starting to get teary eyed and he instantly felt bad.

“(Y/N) no no ya didn’t I-I’m sorry. It’s just… -sigh-.”

“Just what? What did I do for you to ignore me and make me feel like this?! You made me feel like I did something completely wrong!” You yell at him and start walking away until you were pulled into big strong arms.

“I’m sorry (Y/N) I was afraid.. He said.”

“Afraid of what?” You look back up at him showing concern.

“That ya were gonna move back home and leave me fa good.” He admitted as he looked down on the ground.

You were looking sad and instantly felt bad and grabbed his hand gently. “Raph that would never happen. You’re very important to me and I never want to let you go.”

“Really?” He said as he looked up at you.

“Really.” You say. “I love you Red.” You tell him as you looked deeply into his eyes.

“I love ya too babe..forevamore”

With that he pulled you in for a kiss and you two stayed there holding each other for 20 minutes.

The End.

Well what do you all think? Kind criticism is appreciated. This is my first fic on here ever. I know I still have a lot of work to do but I only hope to get better. Let me know what you guys think thanks. :)

[cecinestpasunepizza]

If 2k16 was the year of Overwatch ruining my life than it just may be that 2k17 is the year of Until Dawn just fucking me right up 5ever

[tsaritsa]

Isabella Petersen and the job that did not pay nearly enough but turned out alright in the end

this fic can also be found on ff.net and ao3

Isabella would love to say to General Hakuro that this was not what she had signed up for – but she had, and that was why she was hiding out in some bushes outside Colonel Mustang’s apartment at 2:38 on a frigid September morning.

originally written for the fma 2k16 secret santa for @rosyoreo​

It had been a rough week for Isabella Petersen. Her landlord had decided to hike up her rent by another three-thousand cenz a week; her cat had learned a new trick where she would run and vomit underneath the couch after gorging down her food; and her boyfriend had given her a call at two in the morning to say that ‘we should take a break.’ Isabella tried to ignore the obviously feminine voice cajoling him to ‘hang up on the hussy.’

Maybe that was why she had been so quick to accept a meeting with Major General Hakuro in a seedy little bar in downtown East City. While her job at the Eastern Gazette wasn’t that awful, Isabella was sick of being shunted down to advertising management and a terrible column titled What I Heard in the Wind, where she literally had to go and eavesdrop on people and essentially shit out three hundred words every Monday morning that would keep their over-75’s as loyal readers and subscribers. Apparently real issues didn’t matter so long as Doris got her weekly fix of barista gossip and mother-in-laws complaining about daughter-in-laws. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy hearing gossip, or even better – writing about said gossip, but Isabella was tired of being overlooked in favour of more senior members who had less to contribute than her vomiting cat. She had been with the Eastern Gazette for nearly three years now and was yet to be featured as a journalist – and it wasn’t like the East was particularly strapped for news. Just last week a train had been hijacked from New Optain to East City and if rumours were to be believed, it was the East’s very own ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ who managed to subdue the terrorists and save everybody on board from a grisly fate.

Naturally, the military kept this all very hush-hush – after all, dissent from the people about the military wasn’t a great way of inspiring faith in the military, and the East had always been a bit of a rogue district when compared to the likes of the West or Central itself.  However, Isabella had a friend who worked at the train station, and if he was to be believed (and he generally was, she went through school with the man), the Fullmetal Alchemist wasn’t the only high-profile person on that train ride: Major General Hakuro and his family was reported to have as well (and he was the entire reason why the train was hijacked in the first place, Jeremy said dramatically over coffee with her earlier in the week).

So it was a couple of reasons really, Isabella thought as she walked into the bar, taking off her coat and bee lining to the first empty booth she saw. It was a monumentally awful week as far as weeks have gone, and there was the potential to put two and two together regarding the events at the East City train station. This could be my big break, she thought, stuffing her gloves into her coat pocket and signalling the bartender. Finally get noticed, and crack a story that nobody else in the papers has managed to do in a long while.

So here she sat, nursing what the bartender had described as ‘ the finest cure to a shit week’ – she was fairly certain it was just two cheap whiskeys blended together with a mint sprig added to make it look like it was a legitimate drink – but no matter. The tip-off from Hakuro had been a blessing in disguise – often the Eastern Gazette and the military didn’t get on – but hey, if the man said he’d pay for any of the drinks she ordered if she agreed to meet him in what Isabella was certain was not only a bar, but also worked as a brothel on the side, then she wasn’t going to complain.

It was almost 10 o’clock before he walked into the bar, looking agitated and a little unkempt as he entered, shrugging off his heavy coat and talking to the bartender in low tones. The man motioned towards her and for the first time that night Isabella felt that it might be possible that she was making a mistake in agreeing so hastily to Hakuro’s (almost barked) demand that someone from the Eastern Gazette meet him at the Lady 8ight at nine the next night. But there was free alcohol, and after the week she’d had, Isabella just wanted to drown her sorrows until she couldn’t remember that she had any to begin with.

Hakuro sat down opposite her in the booth she had sequestered, holding a drink that looked an awful lot like hers. “You’re the one I spoke to yesterday?” he asked gruffly, a hard look on his face.

Isabella nodded, curling her fingers around her glass. “Yes, sir. You said you wanted a story written?”

Hakuro nodded shortly, before draining his glass in one mouthful and grimacing slightly. “Yeah – kind of. Not so much a story, as gathering information for me. If you find enough to make a story of it, then maybe you can do that too. You’ll need to do your own research though – I don’t particularly care how you do that, illegal or not.”

Isabella pulled out a small notepad and pen from her bag and started taking notes. “What’s it about?” she asked, noticing a bandage on his ear that was bleeding through slightly. Hakuro ran a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding hitting his ear. Interesting.

“How long have you been out here at East?” he asked, motioning for the barman’s attention.

“I was born and raised here,” she replied. “Does that matter?”                      

“It certainly helps matters,” he muttered, as he handed the bartender a few folded bills and took the entire whiskey bottle from the man, who only responded by glancing to Isabella and sauntering back to behind the bar. “You know of Colonel Roy Mustang?”

“The…Flame Alchemist, right? Hero of Ishval?”

A sour look passed over Hakuro’s face. “Yeah, that guy. I’ve gotten word that he’s been abusing his position in the military. I need you to find out exactly what he’s been doing and how he’s been doing it.”

Isabella looked up at the man, pen poised on her notepad. “What kind of abuses are we talking about here?” she asked, sitting up and leaning back into the booth. “They must be serious if it’s come to your attention – you’re not even stationed out here.”

Hakuro crossed his arms, frowning at her. Too insightful. Dial back a bit. “Why does it matter? Details aren’t important. You just need to find evidence that they’re happening.”

Isabella put her pen down and stared at the Major General. “The man is a legend around here, General. Which means you have got to have some pretty concrete suspicions, right?”

The man nodded, pouring himself another drink.

“So tell me what you know. I can’t go in blind, General,” she said easily, taking a sip of the frankly awful cure to a shit week. “Just nudge me in the right direction. Where or who should I be looking for?”

Hakuro sighed and shrugged. “My…informants tell me it could be multiple things – he’s in charge of the finances for the State Alchemist’s out here at East so that could be one place to look – but to be honest with you, I don’t think that’s it.”

Isabella took a few more notes. “Why don’t you think so?”

Hakuro snorted. “The man is an alchemist – he could just transmute himself some gold and be done with it-”

“That’s illegal though, isn’t it?”

“They’ll revoke your licence if they find you doing it,” Hakuro replied, finishing his second glass of whiskey. “But it’s the people around him I’m more worried about. He’s in close with the Commander of East Headquaters and that certainly doesn’t help matters – there are lots of things that don’t go detected out here. I can probably grant you access to some personnel files without arousing too much suspicion but…”

“Who would I be looking for?” Isabella asked, flipping onto another page.

“His aide would be the best place to start – First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Served alongside him in the civil war so they’re closer than most, but if the rumours are to be believed they knew each other before that, as well.”

“I see,” she replied. “Are they involved?”

Hakuro laughed a little bitterly. “That’s the million cenz question, isn’t it? If you can even prove just that – it’ll be more than enough to bring any other relationships into question.”

Isabella nodded slowly. “What would be enough to accuse him?”

The General poured himself a third drink, which he finished in quick succession before answering. The man had apparently had a worse week than she had.

“She’s his aide, so it wouldn’t be seen as uncommon or suspicious for them to be at each other’s places,” he began, rubbing behind his bandaged ear carefully. “Basically anything that goes against fraternisation rules – like certain information being shared between ranks, or him abusing his rank over her. But they are good. Nothing but consummate professionals.” He stopped here, looking down at her with a hard gaze. “I can get you their addresses, but if I request what their current schedules are it will raise all sorts of alarm bells. You’ll be on your own from there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. On my own, can’t let me be traced back to you,” she responded, looking up from her note taking. “Find enough proof that’s undeniable, don’t get caught and get it back to you discreetly. I have done this sort of thing before, General. It’s why you guys don’t like us at the Gazette, remember?”

A strange look settled on the man’s face. “You seem very sure of yourself,” Hakuro replied finally, pouring another drink.

“No point in not being. This is my job,” she said briskly, putting the cap back on her pen. “Before I go and start planning how to do this – what’re you going to pay me?”

“Two hundred thousand cenz.”

Isabella was glad she had finished her drink. “Two hundred thousand?” she managed; her mind running at full tilt with the amount of rent that two hundred thousand motherfucking cenz would cover.

“You seem to think this will be an easy job, Ms…?”

“Petersen,” she supplied automatically, trying to keep the shock from registering on her face.

“Ms Petersen. I can assure you it will not be. You will not be paid until the end, when I am physically holding the proof that proves this man is not all he’s cracked up to be.”

He was angry, Isabella noticed. It wasn’t directed at her – but she could feel it simmering away underneath his words – a wrong word or even gesture here could easily take away two hundred thousand motherfucking cenz, but Isabella was a reporter (and a damn good one, in her opinion). So the question came out of her mouth before she had properly considered her phrasing.

“Is any of this to do with the hostage situation a week ago?” she began, cocking her head at Hakuro. “I don’t know all the details, obviously, but my mate works at the station as a ticket operator. He said you and your family were on that train that the terrorists attacked. Is that why your ear is bandaged up?”

Hakuro’s face turned an ugly shade of puce, and Isabella saw his hands clench on the table top, knuckles white.

Well, that answers that question nicely.

Averting her eyes from the oncoming explosion, Isabella quickly got out of the booth, collecting her coat and bag swiftly. The man looked like he would combust at any second.

“If you could send me copies of the personnel files that would be wonderful,” she began, shrugging on her coat, “and I’ll send you an update by the end of this week how I’m going.” She rummaged around in her bag for a moment, before presenting the General with her business card. There was an uneasy pause where she thought that this casual action would prove too much for the obviously furious General, but it passed and he accepted it with little more than a grunt in response. “If you need to call me, use that number. Any extra tips would be appreciated – or a warning, if you think someone is onto me.”

The General grunted again, a clear dismissal.

“Pleasure doing business with you, General Hakuro,” Isabella said warmly, walking away and pulling her gloves back on. “He’s paying for my drinks,” she mentioned to the bartender as she passed him.

“Two hundred thousand motherfucking cenz – what has Mustang done to be worth this much?” Isabella murmured to herself as she stepped out into the cold September air, shivering slightly. “Poor guy.”

The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully – Hakuro, true to his word, had forwarded a box full of personnel files about the Colonel and the subordinates that Hakuro felt were closest to the man. The Fullmetal Alchemist was amongst them, Isabella noted with interest one night as she sifted through record upon record. The kid sure knew how to go through money. All State Alchemist’s actually, if Fullmetal’s and the Colonel’s expenses were the norm for all – Isabella was certain that she had earned less at the Gazette in three years than what Edward Elric had managed to spend in a single weekend.

However, in terms of actual evidence, Isabella had yet to find anything suspect about any of the people Hakuro had supplied. Numbers matched up where they were meant to, and she could find very little on complaints made (especially regarding Colonel Mustang, the Fullmetal Alchemist on the other hand, had many angry complaints from the public about ‘damaged property’ and ‘he repaired what he broke but now it looks really ugly’).

Though Hakuro hadn’t been too annoyed last week when she gave him an update of the situation, a week had passed and she was nowhere closer to framing this guy for anything remotely scandalous or even gossip-worthy and there was two hundred thousand motherfucking cenz on the line. Drastic measures had to be taken if she wanted to keep this job.

She slumped onto her couch next to her cat, grumpy and exhausted. Work hadn’t been much fun either – Nicole from the entertainment section had been loudly talking about the recent soirée that she had managed to get an invite to in the break room for the last 6 days straight and Isabella was going positively batty with the constant shrill laughter and the never-ending stream of comments about how wonderful it was of Mrs Blackwood to extend her an invitation. Nicole had even managed to slip her a snide comment – “I could see if I could get you an invite as well, Izzy; you could come with Will- oh, I forgot, you two aren’t together anymore, are you? Oh well, I couldn’t have you hanging on my arm all night.”

Isabella hated the nickname. She hated William as well. Apparently his new relationship was going very well.

Nothing was going very well for her at the moment, unless-

She sat up suddenly, fumbling through the mountains of paper that Hakuro had delivered to her desk at the Gazette. He had written down their addresses somewhere – why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? Pictures spoke a thousand words, after all. Just a few photographs of the two and she could doctor the rest herself – a skill that she had picked up over the years. It might not be enough to indict the man, but it would be enough to have others – meaning people not based at Eastern City Command – to have suspicions and begin to investigate themselves. Hakuro had said, after all, that his informants felt there were multiple breaches of confidence happening – a catalyst at this stage was all she would need to meet his request.

Hakuro, she reasoned, wouldn’t need to know that the images were doctored – nor would he care, she considered. He seemed like the sort of man where the ends justified the means when it came to his enemies.

It was settled. She would skip work and call in sick tomorrow – if she had to listen to Nicole bragging about the haute couture dress she had acquired one more time she was going to stab something (or somebody). She’d pose as a young and naïve university student and see if she could manage an interview with the man himself, and follow him back to his house, hopefully with his aide in tow. She’d only need a few photographs of the two – if she managed one inside the house she could do wonderful things with it – and then it would simply be a matter of going to the Gazette on the weekend and producing the photos and begin the doctoring process.

Isabella stood and stretched languidly. Hopefully by Saturday she’d have all the evidence that Hakuro required and then she would have two hundred thousand motherfucking cenz. This week was turning out to be alright.

As it turned out, posing as a young and naïve university student with a paper on alchemy didn’t get you anywhere when it came to the military receptionists – but it was worth a shot anyway. She managed to find out where the car park was, so it was just a matter of waiting for the right head to be spotted in a car and she could be on her way. At least this gave Isabella a chance to people-watch – a favourite pastime of hers that had fallen to the wayside. You couldn’t really eavesdrop on people and watch them at the same time – most people were quick to catch on.

It was nearing eight in the evening now, and Isabella was onto her fourth coffee, binoculars trained on the entrance of the car park. Almost everybody had gone home – by her counting, only five or six cars were left by this stage, but she had yet to see the Colonel leave. Did he normally work such long hours?

Isabella sighed, shifting in her seat, picking at the skin around her nails. It had been a gamble to come here today – but the receptionist had confirmed he was here – and she had wasted this much time on him already. “Might as well go the whole hog,” she muttered under her breath, cricking her neck from side to side, sighing in pleasure as she felt and heard the joints crack loudly. It was an ugly habit of hers but it certainly helped her look intimidating during high school. All the cool gangsters in the magazine serials all cracked their necks and knuckles before going in for the kill.

Hours passed, and Isabella dozed a little, eyes focused blearily on the part of the street lit up by the entrance to the car park. At this rate it looked like he was going to sleeping over at headquarters – could he even do that? It was a worrying thought but then-

A car suddenly pulled out from the entrance to the car park and Isabella struggled for a moment with her binoculars before focusing on the car, which was giving way to a pedestrian. It was definitely the Colonel, with the Lieutenant driving. Bingo.

She started her car, waiting for them to get ahead to the lights before pulling out into the minimal traffic. It was nearly one in the morning, she realised as turned the radio off – what on earth were they doing to be going home at this hour?

Or maybe they fuck there after everybody else has gone home, she thought, trying to contain a snigger. General Hakuro would certainly never be expecting that.

They seemed to be following the most direct route to his house, Isabella noted. She could probably afford to lose them for a minute and come up a side street and wait for them to pass – a parked car would look far less suspicious than a moving one.

She was correct in her assumptions – her shortcut allowed her to start walking to the park that was next to his apartment building, and she had a nice view of this building’s car park too – she would just need to wait for the next window to be lit up and she could settle in for some good old-fashioned investigating. She had brought a thermos of coffee as well – though she was beginning to feel the need to pee. She could pee in a bush here. It wouldn’t be the worst thing she was doing that night.

Isabella flattened herself against one of the trees in the park as car lights shone across the ground. With luck, this would be the Colonel. Voices floated out across the park – from what she could gather – it was them. The car wasn’t leaving, and Lieutenant Hawkeye didn’t live within walking distance of Colonel Mustang’s apartment which meant-

Oh, she had definitely hit the jackpot tonight.

Isabella would love to say to General Hakuro that this was not what she had signed up for – but she had, and that was why she was hiding out in some bushes outside Colonel Mustang’s apartment at 2:38 on a frigid September morning.

She had managed to get a couple of photos of the two walking from the car park to the front of his building – it wasn’t her best work, but in her defence it wasn’t like she got the opportunity much these days: eavesdropping was definitely becoming her specialty now. But apart from those photos, nothing else had happened. Multiple apartments had lit up but nobody had gone near the windows, and by now Isabella was beginning to lose the feeling in her fingers. She was cold, and tired, and hungry and-

“Can I help you?” a male asked from behind her. She twisted suddenly, and found herself face-to-face with none other than Colonel Roy Mustang himself. She gaped for a second, before coughing and standing up. Say something say something saysomethingsaysomething-

“Shit, man! I thought you were my perp!”

Mustang looked confused. “Perp?”

Isabella stuck out her hand as a way of greeting. He accepted it, albeit warily. “I’ve been employed to investigate a man who lives in this apartment block – his fiancée thinks that he’s cheating on her – she’s right.” Isabella said briskly. “I’m a private detective.”

“That explains the camera then.”

She nodded. “Yeah, though I haven’t had much luck tonight. Do you live in this building? I- I didn’t mean to scare you. Obviously I’m not doing a great job of hiding if you saw me,” she admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. Mustang laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You might want to work on that,” he replied kindly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “But, uh, I’m not here to critique your investigating skills. I was just wondering if you wanted to come up for a cup of tea or coffee? You must be freezing out here.”

You must be kidding me. “I- I wouldn’t say no to a coffee right now,” Isabella answered, biting the inside of her cheek. This is not happening right now. “I don’t want to be a bother though,” she added quickly.

Mustang shook his head. “Nonsense – I’m up anyway. Some company would be nice – and this park isn’t the safest place after dark. C’mon,” he gestured towards to the apartment block and she nodded, picking up her bag and followed him.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Mustang said as he held open the door to the apartment building.

“Isabella Petersen,” she replied easily. If she had learnt anything about snooping about, the less lying you did made the job a million times easier. Lies were hard to make convincing – but the truth was much easier to manipulate – and a fake name was the first mistake many rookies made. A mistake she had made a long time ago.

“Lovely to meet you, Isabella Peterson,” Mustang said warmly, climbing the stairs two at a time. “I’m Roy Mustang, perpetual insomniac.”

Isabella copied his gait with a little difficulty. “Your name’s familiar,” she commented. “Should I know you from somewhere?”

Mustang laughed a little awkwardly. “I’m a…state alchemist,” he explained, turning onto the second flight of stairs. “I work at Eastern Headquarters.”

“Is insomnia a side effect of being a state alchemist?” she quipped. They had slowed to a stop on the second floor in front of an unassuming brown door. He rummaged around in his jacket pocket for a key, before looking back at her.

“I never thought about it that way,” he replied thoughtfully, fighting with the lock for a moment before it gave way. “It’ll definitely be a contributing factor.”

“What’s a contributing factor?” a feminine voice asked from inside the apartment. Mustang gestured inside and Isabella hesitated for a second, before passing over the threshold. His apartment was rather sparse for the amount of money he had available at his disposal, she though critically, noticing First Lieutenant Hawkeye curled up on the couch surrounded by several boxes worth of paper. She had changed out of her uniform, Isabella realised.

“Me being a ‘dog of the military’ might be related to my insomnia, Riza,” Mustang answered behind her, shrugging of his coat and hanging it up next to the closed door. “This is Isabella Petersen,” he said over his shoulder as he walked towards the kitchenette. “She’s joining us for a cup of tea.”

Hawkeye winked at her. “I was the one who spotted you,” she admitted, shifting on the couch slightly. “Your lens was reflecting against the light.”

“Oh,” Isabella replied, a little awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to scare you or anything.” Hawkeye laughed, her smile reaching from ear to ear.

“Believe me when I say I have faced far worse than a camera,” she confided. “But that park can be really dangerous at night – we really don’t want to have to investigate a murder in our own backyard.” She gestured to the single-seater opposite her. “Take a seat. Roy makes good tea.”

“Do you have milk or sugar?” Mustang called from the kitchenette.

“Both please,” Isabella replied, placing her backpack at her feet. Mustang came out of the kitchenette holding two steaming mugs. Giving one to her, he turned to where Hawkeye was on the couch.

“Can I not sit down?” he asked. Hawkeye rolled her eyes before shifting a box onto the ground, muttering under her breath. Mustang ignored this, sitting down next to her and passing her the other mug before clasping his hands together and looked directly at Isabella.

“So, Ms Petersen,” he began, his gaze steady, “why don’t you tell me why you’ve been following and photographing us?”

There was a beat before Isabella registered the question.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfu-

“I…haven’t,” she answered warily, eyes darting between the two of them. Hawkeye seemed completely disinterested in the conversation, sipping on her tea and reading papers.

Mustang snorted harshly. “Nice try. I do read the Eastern Gazette though – What I Heard in the Wind is one of the highlights, really, compared to the rest of the drivel coming out of that rag. But that’s not why I brought you up here. Why have you been following us?”

Her heart was beating at a mile a minute and it was difficult to concentrate – had Hakuro set her up? Mustang read her column? Mustang read her column?

I’m fucked.

“I’m writing a story,” she said finally, her shoulders slumping. “About State Alchemist’s. Whether they’re necessary in today’s political climate. It wasn’t anything personal – just business.”

Mustang leaned back into the couch, regarding her cautiously. Hawkeye hadn’t reacted to the confession: she was still reading files with no indication whatsoever that something momentous had just occurred.

“Forgive me if I don’t take what you say at face value,” Mustang replied, folding his arms over his chest. “But you wouldn’t need photos for a story, would you, Ms Petersen? You’re a writer, not a photographer.”

Isabella chewed on her lip, meeting his stony gaze. He wasn’t angry – and an angry Mustang was something she dearly wished she would never have to see. She had heard the rumours of what his alchemy could do. He was annoyed, more than anything – and tired. The bags under his eyes had a faint purple tinge to them, and all his movements seemed to suggest weariness.

Silence hung between them. Hawkeye opened up another file and kept reading.

“Tell you what,” said Mustang carefully, leaning forward and trying his best to supress a yawn. “I will tell you what I’m going to do if you don’t tell me the truth, and then you can decide what to do from there.”

She stared at him, biting on her tongue.

“Well, first of all, you’re going to be arrested right here and now because I can do that, and then I’ll get a warrant to search both your home and the offices of the Eastern Gazette – and would you believe that I can also sign for those warrants too? Then it’s simply a matter of finding enough evidence against the military to get you charged with treason-”

“Don’t forget that all her co-workers might as well.” Hawkeye mentioned, finally looking up from her file and glancing at Mustang. “They will also be investigated. The Eastern Gazette would be done and dusted before the month is out.” She looked at Isabella. “All because of you.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Major General Hakuro paid me to try and discredit you,” she finally said, squeezing her eyes shut. Goodbye cenz. Goodbye credibility. Goodbye job offers.

“How much?”

Isabella looked up. Mustang had gotten up and walked down the hallway next to the kitchenette, his hands on his face. Hawkeye looked at her pointedly.

“Two hundred thousand cenz.”

If she was shocked, Hawkeye did a very good job of hiding it. “Do you know what he was going to do with the information?”

“Take it to someone who could use it, I imagine. He wasn’t of Eastern Command.”

“He wouldn’t be,” Hawkeye muttered under her breath, shifting files off her lap. There was an uneasy silence as the older woman regarded her coolly. “Why did you say yes?”

“What?”

Hawkeye shrugged. “Two hundred thousand cenz in the scheme of things isn’t a lot when you’re talking about military brass. What was in it for you?”

“Money,” replied Isabella angrily. “It might come as a surprise to you, but not everybody gets a cushy salary. Even a hundred thousand would be more than enough to help people like me survive a little easier.”

“No ulterior motives?”

“Sometimes reasons are simple.”

Something flitted over Hawkeye’s face, before she stood up and poked her head down the hallway. “I’ve got an idea Roy,” she called out, before placing her mug on the kitchen bench and walked back to the lounge suite, shifting the remaining paperwork back into an open box. It was a few minutes before Mustang returned, looking even wearier than had had before. He all but flung himself onto the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Hakuro is going to be out for blood once he finds out. She won’t be safe.” Hawkeye answered quietly, placing the lid on the last of the boxes.

“That matters?” he asked. Isabella winced at the unconcerned tone.

“It could,” Hawkeye pointed out, kneeling beside the man. “Madame Christmas mentioned she was looking for new girls. Hakuro won’t be able to touch her there.”

“Why should I care about some bitch who tried to sell me out?”

“Because she’s got enough brains to lie well enough under pressure. Because she’s in way out of her depth. Because if you don’t help her the General will keep trying to discredit you.”

Mustang huffed, shifting on the couch so he could look at his aide. “What would you have me do?”

Hawkeye glanced back at where Isabella was sitting, fingers curling around the mug of now-cold tea. “I would protect her,” she began slowly, brushing his hair out of his eyes very carefully. “The General has more influence than you think. He could make things difficult for all of us-”

“And once girl will stop that?” he asked harshly. Hawkeye nodded.

“The General won’t protect her – it’s why he chose her. She’s disposable, easy to silence. Make sure he cannot do that.” She rose from kneeling beside him, her hand brushing his for barely a second before she walked down the dim hallway, undoing her hairclip and vanishing behind a door.

Isabella glanced at Mustang. He was staring at her, a calculating look on his face.

“C’mon,” he said suddenly, all but leaping from the couch and heading for the front door, grabbing his coat. “We’re going to the bank.”

Today’s Politics with Lizzy Peters, Central Times, 14th of November, 1914.

Since arriving in Central, dear readers, I have discovered two things – you all have an obsession with tea, and everyone makes fun of me for being from East City. You should all visit there sometime: the sun would do some good for your dour personalities!

But I am not here to convince you to have a holiday out East (though you should really consider it!) My job is to tell you all about the issues being discussed by our senate, by the different council’s here in the Central district. However, today is a little different. I was reminded recently of why I chose to become a journalist, instead of an author or tutor, or a zoo keeper (my childhood dream). I chose to become a journalist because I wanted to help people – where I grew up, there were a few military officials who would be bribed and offer bribes, without considering the very people who they were entrusted to protect. My village suffered because of their greed, because of their callousness. It was the local paper who brought the evidence of their deception and dishonesty to light and ensured that these people paid for their crimes. These journalists, who were putting their very lives on the line to protect us, did not care that they could get arrested for treason. They did it because it was the right thing to do.

It was these few brave souls who have inspired me ever since.

And so, today, dear readers, it is now my turn to inspire, it is my turn to be brave and suffer the consequences as they come. There is an issue I must bring to your attention. It is an issue that is near and dear to my heart – an issue I’m sure you can all understand. That issue is the rampant corruption in our military. Many of you have written in to tell me of the injustices you have faced at the hands of those who swear to serve us. ‘What can I, a single person do?’ so many of you ask. Week after week I read the incidents that have occurred and it pulls at my heart. One person can only do so much, after all.

I have found in my time here at the Central Times that many of you accept your rights as you are told them. From now on, this column will be dedicated to ensuring that every person who reads this paper will understand exactly how the military works in our great country – as well as what your rights are when you feel that they have not done their best to serve you. The military as an idea is not corrupt – but there are those inside who are. Together, we need to expose their lies. Together, we as a people can protect those who cannot protect themselves.

I look forward to serving you as best I can.

With all my love,

Lizzy Peters

‘Well-known’ soldier denies embezzling state funds, by Lizzy Peters, Central Times, 11th of January, 1915.

A soldier stationed at New Optain has pleaded not guilty to embezzling more than 800,000 cenz in civilian funding, the Eastern District court heard today.

Name suppression has been granted for the interim for the soldier who was ‘well-known’ in the district, when they appeared at the district court this Thursday.

Not guilty pleas were entered to the charge of stealing money and they were remanded on bail to reappear for a case review in March. 

Court documents alleged the offending took place between the winter of 1912 and summer of 1915. 

A spokesperson for the New Optain branch said the soldier had worked for the military for over four decades. 

The alleged theft was "devastating for the morale of his subordinates", she said.

“Did you know anything about this?” Riza asked, as she shrugged on a spare shirt that she found on the ground. She motioned to the newspaper on the bed. Roy groaned and rolled over in the bed, scrubbing at his eyes and blearily looking at the headline.

“Well-known…” he mumbled, tracing his fingers over the ink. “There must’ve been enough evidence if it’s gone to court.”

Riza sat down next to him in the light that was filtering through his curtains, kissing his cheek lightly. “The real question was whether it existed before or after his little meltdown at the Gazette,” she said quietly, leaning her head in the crook of his shoulder.

Roy made a noise of agreement, before throwing the newspaper off the bed and curling his arms tightly around her waist.

“Doesn’t matter,” he murmured between languid kisses. “It’ll keep him busy.”

[nazarethtravelling]

Life in India

I guess this is just an update on life. The last post was a bit of a downer but life is all about ups and downs. And life is now all about beaches, palm trees, sunshine, curry and (drum roll please) exercise!

It has all been a bit of a whirlwind and pretty crazy to think I have already been in Goa for 3 months. 12 weeks! And pretty much half the season. Where did the time go?! The villa has been busy and all the initial hard work has paid off. We are fully booked until the end of April with a few odd days lurking around. I am not sure if it was me who helped with that or whether it was just a stroke of luck. But either way it makes my life easier and the staffs lives happier as they have people to work for and things to do.

Sachin who…

One of our first guests to check-in after my trip to Malaysia was a man name Sachin Tendulkar. I of course had no idea who he was and after being told a celebrity would be checking in, I reassured the guest it would be fine and apologised that cricket wasn’t my thing. After consulting my family with a simple ‘Anyone know who Sachin Tendulkar is?’ and being bombarded with ‘Are you stupid?!’ ‘He is the most famous man in India’ I still had no idea who he was. It turns out Mr Tendulkar is God in India, and is potentially one of the best bats men in the world. Was I excited? No. Would I have been excited if it was David Beckham? Yes! So I played it cool, I shook his hand and asked how he was and didn’t give in to the requests from my family to put a cricket bat and a pen in front of him at breakfast. The extent of his fame wasn’t obvious to me and even after watching screaming YouTube videos and the warning that people may jump over our wall if they know he is here, I didn’t get it. Why would I? I had no idea who he was 2 days prior. The main indicator of his importance was the excitement of my oldest brother who seemed ask on more than one occasion – ‘what’s he doing now?’ and the frenzy that remained on our family whatsapp group for the duration of his stay – which actually became borderline creepy. The maids think I bring good luck as both our celebrity guests – Raveena Tandon and Sachin Tendulkar – arrived under my watch and seemed to take place when I was in Goa. So that’s a check for Bollywood, check for Sports, we would like a singer next please. Who I am sure, again, I will have no idea who they are.

Life in the Sunshine

Waking up to sunshine is as great as it sounds. I rarely find myself throwing my duvet backwards and forwards as I force myself to get out of bed. In fact, what even is a duvet? Mornings are bright and crisp and by 9am, the heat begins. By the afternoon, I become a local and need an afternoon nap. Which actually in India is a thing. Lunch breaks are actual lunch breaks and everything closes. They haven’t ever heard of not all going for lunch together so more than 10 times I have made the mistake of going to the bank, going to a shop or trying to call someone at this very precious hour. And as annoying as it is, it is actually a nice thing to do. To shut away from work and take that hour to yourself to eat those roti’s, thali and whatever else kind of deliciousness they bring from home.

I have to say, I don’t take the sunshine for granted now, well maybe a little bit, but I definitely don’t find myself chasing it anymore. Usually, when in a hot country I am making the most of peak tanning time, trying to emphasise my Indian roots and turn that golden brown that I know I can. Now, lying on a sunbed, sweating under the rays of this 30 degree sunshine doesn’t seem so appealing and I would rather sit on my veranda in the shade. Definite local Goan! But that is not to say if I feel myself getting a bit pasty, which is never and me just being paranoid, I will get ready for a sunshine sweat session and soak up those rays but always have in the back of my head an image of myself as a shrivelled up brown lady in 25 years! I am due a trip to London soon where sunshine is non-existent so I will be sure to un-needingly top up my tan so people can tell me how healthy and golden brown I am looking. Obv!

The Good and the Bad

Someone once told me they love Goa because it is like GTA (Grand Theft Auto). Initially, I asked when they would be stealing cars, running people over, hailing prostitutes and punching people and running (I used to do that all the time on GTA). But actually it was more to do with the fact, and the true fact, that you can basically do whatever you like. There aren’t really many rules and if there are rules, no one follows them. But Goa works, people’s lives carry on, daily jobs are completed and Goa doesn’t grind to a halt. I am not really sure what police do, other than stop Indian and foreign tourists on mopeds to check for licenses. If you broke a law in front of a police officer, which thinking about it, I am not even sure which law you could break, I don’t think anything would happen other than a slap on the wrist and few rupees handed over. But it works. I rarely see fights, arguments, trouble or aggression.

UPDATE: On the other hand, there is a big election taking place in Goa on the 4th of Feb and for the last month there have been very strict rules and regulations for all restaurants, clubs, bars and tourist hot-spots. Music and alcohol are not permitted after 11pm. This is so strict that most places will stop everything at 10:30pm. If this rule is broken and a complaint is made you may have to go to court and face fines of up to 1 lakh (£1200). Please note this has been the case for over a month now. A month! I am still trying to understand the reasoning behind a month. To make sure the elections are taken seriously? And people are researching who they are going to vote for instead of drinking and dancing? And then to top it off they have 3 days of completely dry Goa. No alcohol can be served 2 days prior and on the day of the election. Again, I assume to make sure you are in the right head space and aren’t drunk voting? But I put my hands together for Goa who as a very touristy place can actually succeed in banning alcohol and making everyone take it seriously. Can you imagine if there had to be 1 dry day in London. No way would it work! (I also won’t go too much into election details mainly because I don’t know enough but also I don’t want to say the wrong thing and have protesting Indians at my door!) 

Road rage is not a thing even though some of the road manoeuvres here are outrageous. But it’s all chill, chill, chill, an occasional toot to let you know I am there and then carry on my day. In London, it is all aggression, aggression, aggression. Some driver accidentally leans on his horn and the driver in front will probably explode. I am learning to leave this road rage behind when driving my Suzuki Swift – which again is something I could only do in Goa for the price, ease and amount of time I haven’t driven for. Cows rule the road, nobody waits, ever, and horns aren’t aggressive they are friendly and helpful. Overtaking round blind corners will however never be cool!

The food is something from a dream world. I believe North Goa is one of the most up and coming parts of India with new restaurants popping up monthly. Restaurants with menus that the edgiest part of East London would be jealous of. And of course usually with a price tag less than a standard and very average Nandos. Contrary to what many people may think, India is not just full of curry. Well Goa definitely isn’t. This of course is great for holidaymakers who are here to eat everything and talk about their next meal while eating their current meal (we all do it!) but for a supposed resident, trying not to become a Goan beached whale is proving difficult! Hence the new exercise regime that I am sticking too even in this 25 degree evening heat!

And the ‘bad’ which get to me so much are the processes of Goa. I am used to organisation, good customer service and the customer being King. This is definitely not the case here. It has taken me 5 weeks and over 10 trips to the bank to change the phone number on our bank account from the old bank manager’s to ours. Why, in the first place is the old bank managers number on our account where he receives OTP’s (One Time Password) to make and authorise transactions? I do not know. A simple apology and having the matter rectified immediately would have been wonderful and actually expected. But no, 5 weeks of back and forth’s and speaking to a man who speaks in slow motion has lead me pretty much nowhere.

Phone numbers – these seem to be hold the same importance as gold and diamonds. To set up a phone number you need about 8 different proofs of identity and 4 signatures that they will pull you up on even though you just signed the form in front of them. Once you have a number, if you would like to update any details, change contract or change your billing you must have all these proofs of identity and be ready to go back to the shop at least 3 times. Nothing is easy and nothing is simple. But no one seems to mind. People don’t mind filling out countless forms and having to make 3 trips backwards and forwards because they forgot to tell you to bring a photocopy of your passport. In fact it is expected and it is something I am trying to learn.

Money – I am not even sure I should get started on the money crisis of November 2k16. When Mr Modi decided to invalidate 2 of the highest rupee notes overnight. When suddenly life became difficult for everyone from the poor farmer to the rich beach shack owner. I will potentially save that drama for another blog but only in India could such a thing happen. Only in India could all my money suddenly equal to zero and only in India could it work.

There is no comparison between London and Goa in any way. And my life has become very different, in both good and bad ways. There is light at the end of some tunnels and others seem to be in complete darkness. But most of all, I am living my days in a way they have never been lived before. I am making stories for myself that I can hopefully tell in the future and learning from the changes in me and my surroundings. And most of all I am fulfilling my desire to chase palm trees!

My next blog will be a Chulo update. The update on the little pooch that seemed to literally run into my life!

[nordicsymphony]

Anime Review 2016

Yes, I know this is long overdue. But 2016 has been a very eventful year in anime, so this had to be done. 

All series are sorted according to season, followed by how much I enjoyed it, only applies to current shows airing at the time. To avoid the rage of the respective fandoms, series which I didn’t particularly enjoy will only be described, but you may still identify some of them.

P.S: Long Post!

Winter 2016

Personally, I feel that not much goes on in Winter, save for adaptations and the transition from one Precure series to the next.

Watched: 3

Loved: Assassination Classroom S2

This is a series that is very faithful to the manga it was adapted from and it’s a thrilling ride from beginning to end. I truly identified with the Class 3E kids and I wish for their bright futures.

Dropped: (description) An anime based on a card game which certain people contract with beings from another world to fight evil. I thought I’d get the same feelings as WIXOSS for this show, but unfortunately, while the start was great the end was terrible. Sorry.

Spring 2016

Things may perk up from here. Maybe... ...

Watched: 2, may be starting on another from that season since they have an S2 soon.

Notable: Kaitou Joker S3

It may sound and look childish, but I personally find this show very entertaining as best. Also, Joker is a cute little asshole.

Dropped: Sousei no Onmyouji (anime adaptation) (name mentioned due to one side being liked while other side isn’t)

While the manga series is interesting and the anime adaptation fun to watch, I dropped it in the Fall Season because the filler was getting to me. In summary, the same problems the original D.Gray-Man anime had, only a lot worse as some filler episodes were just plain confusing. Also, I can’t help but wonder if Sukeno-sensei actually approved of some of the filler stuff. Like the Singing Basara. What was with all that...? I’m still reading the manga, though but time will tell if I’m going to drop the series as a whole eventually. I hope not.

Planning to watch: Boku no Hero Academia

I’ve read the manga, but put the anime adaptation on hold because of S2. Now that it’s coming up, I’m going to see if I have the time to watch S1.

Summer 2016

NOW this is where the fun starts. Not only is this the season with the most comebacks, I’ve also labelled it the Despair Season.. ... for a reason.

Watched: 7

Enjoyed: Bananya, D.Gray-Man: Hallow, Amaama to Inazuma, Show by Rock! Short

Bananya: I mean, banana cats. This show is SO CUTE. It always makes my day with it’s purity. Each episode is 3 mins each, so it doesn’t take long to marathon it. Recommended if you love cats, bananas, bananas and cats, or Kenma/Hinata (because the cast is just these two).

D.Gray-Man: Hallow: The anime I have been anticipating the most out of all the 2016 animes. While the animation is choppy at worst and it takes a while for some of the seiyuus to get into their roles, it’s overall a good show with expansion that doesn’t take away from the original manga. I’d recommend the series as a whole very much, and since the manga adaptation’s back in serialization, now’s a good time to start on the series.

Amaama to Inazuma: A very heartwarming tale that also teaches you how to cook. I’ve read the manga after a few episodes and I’m glad they provided recipes at the end of each chapter, also one particular scene in the manga which has yet to be adapted into anime form made me sob. Someday, my parents are going to watch this show. Also, please protect Tsumugi Inuzuka who is a Cinnamon Roll too good for this world so pure.

Show by Rock! Short: I liked the concept, and happily went to watch this one. It’s a buildup to S2, which I’ll explain later. I enjoyed this one for the humor and brightness in the series. TBH, I wish the game will get released internationally soon. I want to play it....

Watched once, never again: 2

(description): The finale to a visual novel series about killing games and evil teddy bears. Let’s get to the point - for a series that has ‘Hope vs Despair’ as its motif, it sure has way too much Despair (some of it forced into our throats) and while the ending is sweet and all, there are still some loose threads here and there, which made it disappointing. I’m considering dropping the series right here and there after I saw the ending to its third game instalment, but I love certain characters too much to go through it.

(description): A very average boy finds a stray cat and takes it in, only for the cat to actually be a vampire and thus said kid is dragged into a war between vampires. Concept is interesting, but plot and character wise, it’s vanilla plain. The symbolism is fascinating though. 

Dropped: 1

(description): Based on a card game, 5 worlds are in danger of colliding due to evil forces and only certain girls are chosen to fight them. Just like a winter series, I picked it up hoping for a counterpart to WIXOSS. Shame I dropped it after 3 episodes, but it’s really that bad. The monsters looked oddly suspicious, and there’s too much fanservice. Once the actual plot kicked off, I left since I could see the ending a mile away. Someday, I hope to see a card game anime just as good as WIXOSS. Or maybe I’m just being plain biased.

Fall 2016

From what I know, this is where the treasure chests start popping up.

Planned: 8

Watched: 6

Enjoyed: Lostorage incited WIXOSS, Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku, Flip Flappers, Kaitou Joker S4, Show by Rock! #, plus 1 more that needs a section all to itself.

Lostorage incited WIXOSS: While it might very well be more brutal than the original, overall it’s a wild ride from start to finish. I panicked at some scenes, and heaved a sigh of relief at others. I still love this franchise, and with a S2 of the Lostorage era in the works, I hope to be entertained further as well.

Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku: It’s Madoka Magica meets Dangan Ronpa, but while the brutal scenes are worse, overall it manages to have a satisfying end. When the light novels come out in English officially, I hope to get them and someday get to the sequels. Speaking of which, will this series get a anime sequel?

Flip Flappers: While I enjoyed the animation and the character development, the plot sadly flies over my head. I may want to rewatch this to fully understand it. Overall a cute, if mind-screwy show.

Kaitou Joker S4: Despite being darker than most, it’s overall a fun ride and hopefully more people will give it a shot and a S5. Maybe.

Show by Rock! #: The music is just as good as the 1st season and the backstory for this season’s Big Bad hit me in the heart. While I want a S3, The conclusion is satisfying in itself. I hope to see more from this series.

Want to get back in as soon as possible: Chi’s Sweet Home and Udon no Kuni no Kiniro Kemari

Chi’s Sweet Home: Full of sweetness, I watched it in the hopes of getting rid of the despair from last season. While I dropped it due to lack of subs, I truly loved the series and hope to get back into it soon.

Udon no Kuni no Kiniro Kemari: It’s Amaama to Inazuma meets Barakamon with tanukis. It’s super cute, but the short segement at the end was unnecessary in my POV. Like Chi’s Sweet Home, as soon as I have the time I want to get back into it. I think I left off at episode 6/7?

Dropped: There’s this Idol anime that has an original twist in the genre, but I forgot the plot. Despite the name having to do with memories, the show is VERY forgettable. Shame, it has potential. The thing that made me drop it is the live action talk sequence, which takes up half the episode. If they did that in another form of media, I’d keep watching.

Ensemble Darkhorse: Yuri!!! on Ice

I thought I’d never get into this show due to it being a sports anime, which I avoid due to lack of interest. But then at episode 5 there were so many people talking about it on my dash, I decided to check it out. What I thought would be a one-time thing ended up as the 3rd biggest fandom on my blog (I’m sorry if you came for another fandom and don’t like this show because of it being ALL OVER THE PLACE) due to amazing character development, lovable characters, beautiful animation, fascinating plot, well thought-of sequences and a FANTASTIC ‘screw you’ to stereotypes and cliches as it gave us a gay couple that is not queerbaiting (cutest couple 2k16 and has the honor of being the ONLY OTP with a tag to itself on this blog), characters who are contrary to what most people think of their home countries and well, basically made history. God, I can talk about this show all day. Please give us a Season 2. 

I hope that 2017 will be just as entertaining as 2016 in anime, but I might end up watching lesser shows due to time and well... ... you know... ... The show I’m looking forward to the most is Season 2 of Yuuki Yuuna wa Yuusha de aru, but maybe we’ll get some hidden gems in here somewhere.