#Voltage Fan Fictions

[chirp-a-chirp]

Court of Darkness: Untamed

Couple: Roy and MC (MC named Carla)

Other Characters: Sherry, Rio, Fenn

Description: Why does Roy, the consort who strives to obtain the “perfect prince” image, have a hairstyle that can only be described as an “elegant mop top”?

Alternate Description: @aide-falls I finally finished your “hair-raising” Roy story request! AKA why is drawing this 2D man’s hair so difficult? @x-daedalus-x @jaysquid @daegupaksu you might appreciate this too 🙂

Tags: Fluffy crack? Crack-filled fluff? And partial innuendo because Fenn’s in it.

…

Carla, Sherry, and Rio make their way to the entrance of Roy’s room. The group are meeting for a picnic on the rooftop garden. As Sherry pushes the door, they hear an exasperated cry.

For Creator’s Sake! For once, do as I ask!

Carla opens the door further, alarmed at Roy’s rare outburst. Sherry exchanges a fond look at Rio and closes the door, leaving a small crack to peer inside Roy’s room.

Sherry: Ah, dear brother is at it again.

Rio: What’s he using this time?

Sherry: Looks like some kind of enchanted gel from Luxure.

Carla: What are you all talking about?!

Sherry gestures for Carla to look through the crack in the door. Carla sees Roy’s back as he’s standing next to a floor-length mirror. Through the mirror’s reflection, Carla notices that Roy’s lips are pursed in a tight line as he slathers copious amounts of gel in his hair to try and slick it back. At this point, his hair looks as if it’s been electrified and licked by numerous cows.

A frown appears on Carla’s face. She loves Roy’s hair. It’s soft, warm, with golden highlights among the light pink strands; it reminds her of pink and yellow wildflowers that blossom in all directions, seeking the sun. With its many layers, subtle waves, and upturned tips, Roy’s hair is as elegant as a mop top can be. But mop top it certainly is.

Carla sighs, understanding in an instant. Hair reminiscent of wildflowers is NOT princely, or so Roy thinks. Crisp white jackets; finely embroidered capes; golden buttons with the Invidian crest tailor-fit to his clothes; and, of course, an ever-present smile—these are the successful pieces to the princely image Roy tries to project in public. It never occurred to Carla until now that his unruly hair is the one part that never fit that self-imposed prince perfect persona of his.

Sherry: *Turns to Carla* Roy’s hair has always been messy. About once a year, he gets it in his head to try and tame it. Magic, enchantments, gel, hairspray—nothing’s worked.

Carla: Not even S:Rank magic?

Rio: Lynt tried magically styling Roy’s hair once, but it looked more like a birds nest perched on his head.

Sherry: Then the headmaster got involved. But Lou ended up styling Roy’s hair to be an ACTUAL nest. A few birds made Roy’s hair their home for weeks.

Carla: WEEKS?!

Sherry: Why yes. A pair of rare exotic birds nested there. And these are birds that, once their eggs are laid, can’t be disturbed without harming them.

Rio: Roy got used to sleeping sitting up pretty quick. He was very gentle with them.

Sherry: And now the birds reside in the Invidian royal gardens!

Carla: OK, I wasn’t expecting THAT. Has Roy ever tried just cutting his hair?

Sherry: Yes, but for every strand of hair he cuts, two new ones appear in its place instantly. So there’s little point in doing so.

Carla: So my paramour has a magical hydra in hair form on top of his head?!

Rio: Yeah! But at least his hair doesn’t grow beyond what it is now!

Carla: Is there ANYTHING ELSE I should know about Roy’s hair?

Sherry: When Roy stands out in the sun long enough, his hair smells like strawberries!

Rio: Carla’s hair also smells like strawberries!

Carla: That’s my shampoo Rio. Not magical pheromone hydra hair.

Fenn: Well, well, well! Is there a reason why we’re all admiring Roy’s assets like this? *Points a finger through the cracked door at Roy’s backside as Roy continues to glob gel on his head*

Rio: Roy’s trying to gussy up his hair again. He seems super focused so we didn’t want to distract him.

Sherry: That gel brother’s using appears very expensive. Did you gift that to him Prince Fenn?

Fenn: Ah, yes. I owed Roy. He recently helped me with a situation involving an Akedian diplomat’s daughter that was—alas, I can’t say anymore for the Princess’s sake.

Sherry: I have a very active imagination. I can fill in the details!

Rio: I’m sure you were a great help Fenn, even before Roy stepped in!

Carla: *Sigh* Maybe you should give some of your imaginative powers to Rio, Sherry?

Fenn: *Continues peeking through the cracked door* Our dear Roy looks as if there’s a wet mop on top of his head! It’s quite the look.

Carla: Yeah, well, Roy looks GREAT wet.

Sherry: …

Rio: Aw, have you both gotten wet walking in the rain together?

Carla: *Claps hands over her mouth* Oh God, forget I said that!

Fenn: You and Roy do seem VERY devout when you take baths together. Oh God, Oh Vane…

Carla: Roy’s room is soundproofed! How would you know what we—

Fenn: I live next door to Roy remember. And my imagination is much more active than Sherry’s. Not that I need to imagine, Treasure. You and Roy are loud enough to pierce through ANY sound barrier.

Carla: S-stop joking Fenn!

Fenn: Oh Heartspell, sweet Heartspell, just like that…

Sherry: I wish my imagination weren’t QUITE so active now.

Rio: Why not Sherry? Walks in the rain are fun! Though Roy doesn’t seem the kind of chap to like that sort of thing.

Fenn: Roy and Treasure engage in a very different water activity Rio. Rather enthusiastically, in fact—

Carla: ANYWAYS…Fenn, is the gel you gave Roy special?

Fenn: Not sure it’s special, but it has to be better than the gel Jasper and Guy gave Roy that one time.

Carla: How so?

Fenn: Guy’s gel MAY have caught on fire while Roy was teaching a potions class…

Carla: WHAT?!

Fenn: Hmmm, the gel had some black market ingredients Jasper failed to mention were present. But don’t worry. Roy’s fan club doused him with lots of water! They were VERY excited about that.

Sherry: Poor Roy was positively mobbed.

Carla: So that answers the question “Has Roy participated in a Wet T-Shirt contest”…

There. It is finished!

Fenn, Rio, Sherry, and Carla crowd the door at Roy’s words. For a brief moment, Roy’s hair is successfully slicked back, not a strand out of place, his hair the very picture of a fairytale prince. Roy smiles in satisfaction.

Sproooooooong!

As if the hair had a mind of its own, the gel leaps off of Roy’s head, flying in all directions. Gobs of gel land on the mirror, walls, tea cups, and nearby tables. One gob splatters on the front door, narrowly missing the four people watching.

Roy hangs his head slightly and removes the remaining gel from his hair. With a poof, his hair reverts back to its usual mop top shape. His arms fall to his sides, hands clinched in tight fists.

I just…wanted to look dashing for Carla. Just once.

Carla’s heart clinches at the sad tone in Roy’s voice. His hair obsession is not just about the prince persona—not now. He wishes to look good for her. Carla turns to Sherry and Rio.

Carla: Please go on without me. I’ll bring Roy along in a minute.

Rio: OK then. Fenn, come join us mate! There’s enough food for us all.

Sherry: Good luck Carla.

Fenn: Sorry the gel didn’t work. At least Roy’s hair didn’t catch fire! Feel free to douse him with water though since Roy clearly likes it when you do it Treasure! *Wink wink*

Carla rolls her eyes as Fenn, Rio, and Sherry leave. She opens the door and walks in, grabbing a single-stemmed pink rose from a nearby vase. Carla approaches Roy from behind; she wraps her arms around his waist and places the rose in Roy’s right hand.

Carla: Roses are not the only flowers that are beautiful, you know.

Roy: *Surprised* Oh?

Carla: Roses—they’re refined, elegant, radiant. When I see them, I instantly think of Invidia—and you.

Carla: *Turns so that she’s facing Roy, standing on tiptoes as she runs her fingers through his hair* But, you also remind me of wildflowers.

Roy: *Laughs softly* Really? Pray tell why.

Carla: Like your hair, there’s an aspect of you that yearns to be free. That part is a little wild, a little unexpected, untamed. And I love it. Please don’t hide it away. Please.

Carla’s words pierce Roy’s soul. A winding affection grabs Roy’s heart and refuses to let go. His arms wrap tightly around Carla as he holds her close. He whispers in her ear.

Roy: So, which do you prefer—roses or wildflowers?

Carla: *Hovers her lips just above Roy’s and whispers back* Both.

[drama-glob]

Sparks Fly

Megan interviews Juniper as part of a report to hopefully reduce prejudice against reformed criminals.

The teenager sat back in her chair as she gazed around the large area, noting a couple young adults on the computers in the corner, a black-haired girl about her age reading a textbook while doing her homework and an elderly man who appeared to work at the library as he was pushing a cart of books down the aisle. Megan then pulled out her phone and decided to text a quick message to Hiro about seeing if they could hang out at Joe’s Diner tomorrow. As soon as she hit send, she heard a female voice say, “Excuse me, are you Megan Cruz?”

The brown-haired individual looked up from her device almost immediately and was greeted to the sight of a taller, young blonde about a year or so older than her. She was wearing a purple top with a cute bunny on it along with white capris, but she also appeared to be a bit nervous as she stood before Megan. It had been over six months since the reporter had last seen her in person, but instantly recognized her as Juniper of High Voltage.

The supersleuth gave a short “Oh” as she scrambled out of her seat to stand up and properly greet the reformed dancer. “Yes, I am Megan Cruz and you’re Juniper, right?” she inquired as she politely extended her hand.

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” the taller of the two lightheartedly quipped as she shook the offered appendage, her apprehension melting away a little.

Here is the link on AO3:

@spyrkle4 @enbydemirainbowbigfoot Enjoy the fluff! ^_^<3

[shinonometrash]

The Dapper Wolf

Court of Darkness Fan Fiction - Short Story

Rating: General

Main Characters: MC, Lance Ira, Robin (MC’s familiar), Grushia

You can check out other content that I’ve written/made by clicking here!

~~

One day in the forest–

Lance is lounging under a tree as usual when MC and Robin appear.

MC: Hi Lance!

MC waves, wearing a warm smile.

Robin: Master Lance!

Robin, seeming especially energetic, zooms over to Lance.

Robin:  Look! Look what milady gave me!

He flies around in excited circles, eager to show off.

Lance: Hm? What am I looking at?

MC: Oh, I bought him a bow tie while I was out shopping today. He absolutely adores it.

Robin: Doesn’t it look just dashing against my fur?

Lance: Haha, very cute.

Smiling, Lance scritches Robin gently behind the ears.

In response to hearing Robin’s animated voice, Grushia trots over curiously.

Robin: Master Grushia, look at my new bow tie! Milady bought it for me!

Grushia sniffs at the new accessory around Robin’s neck when MC suddenly exclaims.

MC: Oh yeah! Grushia, wait there! I have something for you, too!

Grushia: Aroo?

Grushia’s ears perk up in anticipation as he eagerly waits to see what MC brought him.

After a moment of rummaging, MC produces a slightly larger bow tie from her bag.

MC: I got you one too! Now you and Robin can match!

Grushia: Arroo!

Lance: What, no, you're not giving him a bow tie!

Before MC can put the bow tie on Grushia, Lance exclaims this.

Unlike Grushia, he is very clearly not enthusiastic about the idea.

MC: Why not?

Lance: Because! He’s a wolf.

Ignoring him, she slips the bow tie over the wolf’s head.

MC: So?

Lance: Wolves don't wear bow ties.

MC:  Says who? Look, he wants to wear it!

Grushia wags his tail excitedly as she adjusts the bow tie around his neck.

Lance: Oi, Grushia, you’re a wolf, not a blasted lap dog!

MC: There, perfect!

Now sporting a fetching bow tie, Grushia sits down in front of Lance, staring up at him.

MC: Haha, I think he wants to know what you think!

Lance: …

MC: You don't want to hurt Grushia’s feelings do you?

Lance: …

MC: Lance, look, you're making Grushia sad!

Grushia: *whimpers*

MC: Aww, come here Grushia. Don't listen to big ‘ol meanie Lance. I, for one, think you look very dapper in your bow tie!

Grushia sits down next to MC and she wraps her arms around him protectively, throwing a glare towards her paramour.

Grushia’s ears droop as he looks at Lance with a sad expression.

Grushia: Arroo…

Lance: Come on, don’t you think this is a bit much?

Lance looks exasperated as he watches his paramour and wolf companion, who is now laying on the ground, resting his head in MC’s lap pitifully as she comfortingly pets him.

MC: Really, you look very handsome! No matter what Lance might say!

Lance: Don’t put words in my mouth-

Robin: Yes! I think you look very dashing too, Master Grushia!

Hovering at MC’s shoulder, Robin also throws an angry kitty glare towards Lance.

Lance: For Creator’s sake…

Lance’s exasperation quickly turns to irritation at the melodramatic display everybody is putting on.

MC: It’s okay Grushia, even if Lance won’t accept you, I’ll ALWAYS accept you for who you are. I’m sure he’ll come around eventually…

Lance: Stop making me the villain here!

MC: Then say it.

Lance: Say what?

MC: “Grushia, that bow tie makes you look very cute and handsome!”

Lance: …

Everybody stares at Lance expectantly.

Lance: …

MC: Well?

Lance: I-I don’t think you look bad in that bow tie, Grushia.

Grushia whines, sounding disappointed as he returns his head to MC’s lap.

Lance: Wasn’t that good enough?

MC: Nope, you have to say it word for word.

Lance: Dragon’s teeth…

Lance curses under his breath before resigning himself to his fate.

Lance: Grushia, that bow tie makes you look v-very…cute and handsome…

Grushia: Arrooo!

Immediately perking up, Gruschia wags his tail happily and begins prancing around, proudly displaying his new accessory.

Lance acts exasperated as he shakes his head, but is unable to completely hide the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Robin: Come on Master Grushia, let’s go show all the others in the forest!

Grushia: Arroo!

MC and Lance watch as the two animals disappear into the forest.

MC: Oh my gosh!! I just remembered!

Lance: What?

MC: They had matching bow ties for people too!

Lance: …

MC: Darn, I should've bought it while I was there! I'll have to go back into town tomorrow and buy one…

MC: Just imagine, you and Grushia, wearing matching bow ties! Ahhh, that’d be SOO cu-

Lance: NO.

The End.

~~

If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging! It’s one of the best ways to show support for content creators since Tumblr doesn’t rely heavily on algorithms and things easily get lost in the tags.

You can check out other content that I’ve written/made by clicking here! 

[fang-and-feather]

Recovering my Star's Shine

Fandom: Star-Crossed Myth

Rating: Gen

Categories: F/M

Pairing: Zyglavis/OC

Words: 1231

Prompt(s): Starting with preparations way too early and "Okay, maybe I DO need help putting the star on top of the tree.", from the "’tis the season for love" content creation challenge hosted by @xxsycamore and @voltage-vixen

Summary: Zyglavis return to the mansion to find his girlfriend decorating the house for Christmas a little too early and he worries, both about her reason and her methods but does his best to help her through it.

(Fang and I planned to do at least three fics each for the challenge, one for each of our favorite otomes and the last one for a new one of our choice that we wanted to write for but hadn't the courage to yet. I don't know if we'll manage, though, but I'm glad I at least finished this one.)

Among all the things Zyglavis loved about his girlfriend, she was hardworking, efficient and many times thought ahead of things, but she could exaggerate these things.

That afternoon, in the beginning of July, when the god of Libra returned from the heavens, he found Rinka alone in the living room, atop a ladder, putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree, the rest of the room already decorated.

“Zyglavis!” she called out when she saw him enter. “I wasn’t expecting you so early. When I arrived and found nobody home, I thought something had happened.”

Her smile was bright and genuine, but her eyes darted around, her posture was more lax than usual, especially for her precarious perch, and while she held to the ladder with one hand, as she stopped her task to talk to him, her other hand played with the little keychain dangling from her belt.

“There was an incident, but we already dealt with it. Is it not too early for Christmas?”

“Maybe,” Rinka returned her attention to the decorations and Zyglavis stepped closer when she bent dangerously to pick something from the box on the sofa, “but I received these earlier than expected, and they would be more of a clutter with the box in my apartment, and I already have a list of so many things to do in December, maybe a little of November too, and it’s not like these are getting in anyone’s way.”

She said it all in one breath and then let out a weary sigh.

They hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks and it was obvious something happened during that time.

“Do you want help?” It would be easier to get her attention if they finished it, rather than trying to convince her to stop.

“It’s okay. I’ll finish this in a minute.” Rinka reached for another decoration from the almost empty box when her body swayed and she had to hold tighter with both hands to the ladder.

“You better step down from there.” It was an order, not a warning. Rinka would try to play it off otherwise.

“Fine.” Rinka conceded with a sigh, but as she took the first step when her foot slipped and Zyglavis had to catch her.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, debating where to set her on the ground or on the sofa.

“I’m fine, thanks to you. You don’t have to worry.”

“Of course I have to worry, because you seem to love to make me, too.” Zyglavis sighed, setting her down, a little relieved to see his girlfriend could stand on her own, but he still hugged her from behind, maybe afraid she would try to climb again if he let go. “Your sisters told me you were busy with work, but it is clear you haven’t been sleeping properly. And, on top of it, you decide to decorate the house for Christmas, months early, on your own. What is happening?”

The others would say he worried too much about her but, with Rinka, sometimes he had to, because she didn’t worry about herself.

“I’m really fine.” Zyglavis gave her a little room when she tried to get away, but Rinka only turned to face him and give him a kiss. “Give me a couple more days and I’ll start recovering.”

“A couple more days is when you will finish your recent work project? Is there anything I can help with?”

Rinka lowered her head, then closed her eyes tight and her body almost collapsed against him again. She sighed, then looked up at him.

“Maybe I DO need help to put the star on top of the tree.”

She was smiling again, but Zyglavis knew she was trying to hide something.

“Right, but afterward you will rest for the rest of the day.”

“Zyglavis! You know I…”

“I’ll accept no complaints. I won’t ask what you are hiding for now, but you will do as I say. Do you understand?”

He didn’t like having to be this forceful with his girlfriend, but sometimes that was the only way to protect her.

“Fine. I understand.”

She looked down again, and Zyglavis caressed her cheek, making her look up again.

“I am only worried about your health. Work or not, you shouldn’t push yourself so hard. You have always been good at doing your work efficiently and taking care of yourself.”

“I know. It had nothing to do with work. I just had an awful week. The Christmas decorations cheer me up.” Rinka nuzzled his chest and Zyglavis hugged her tighter once again. A part of him wished they could stay like that, but not only it was obvious his girlfriend needed sleep, also someone could walk in at any moment. It was a surprise they hadn’t. “I’ll rest if you stay with me.”

His girlfriend’s voice was no more than a whisper, but there was a tremble in it. Such a sign of vulnerability was unlike her and only served to make him more worried.

“I will be by your side for as long as you need me.” Zyglavis kissed the top of her head and Rinka chuckled.

“So, about that star…”

There was an excited glint in her eyes when she looked at him again, that he smiled back.

“Here.” He picked it from the box and put it in her hand, Rinka’s expression switching for one of surprise and she turned to look back at the three. Then he held her tighter.

Almost immediately, she looked down and noticed what he had done.

Flying just high enough and holding her with a hand, he took the hand she was still holding the star on with the other and the two placed it on the three together.

“Thank you, Zyglavis. But that’s not how I was expecting you to help.”

“I know. But you are my beloved, and I would do anything to make sure you are happy and safe, so you can rely on me for anything.”

Back on the ground, he gently spun her around and kissed her.

“I would love nothing more than to keep you in my arms for the rest of the day but, right now you really need to rest.”

With an arm around her shoulders, Zyglavis started guiding Rinka to his room.

“But…” Zyglavis just stared at her and Rinka laughed instead. “Fine. But I’ll probably wake up in time for dinner, anyway. Can we continue after that?”

“If you are not having any more dizzy spells.”

Rinka nodded, but the movement made her flinch. He helped her the rest of the way and into the bed.

“Can I have at least a goodnight kiss?”

It was also a chaste kiss. Not enough for either of them, he knew, but it wasn’t time to tire her more.

“You can have more later if you at least stay quiet until dinner.”

“But you’ll stay by my side, right?”

There was a hint of fear in her eyes now, and Zyglavis held her hand.

“Always.”

And that was a promise. Zyglavis thought he understood a little better than what was haunting her. It was something in her mind rather than something concrete, something that his godly powers probably couldn’t do much about. But he would do the best possible and always be by her side, because he loved her more than anything.

[hislittleraincloud]

Your Dirty 🏳️‍⚧️Grandpa Storytime because I'm still high from those pods

As I was telling fic wife, there's a significance to Boris' hobby of 'biscuit making' for me since whisker biscuit is one of my favorite euphemisms for the quim/vulva, yet she hasn't heard it before. Maybe it's a Gen X thing, but yeah, this is a layer of the storytelling maybe everyone missed.

Or maybe it was that I lived and grew up in my own special pod with equally perverted friends -- we were children who were preoccupied with sex -- one of which I am still FB friends with. This is 42 years of it for her, a little longer for me because my mother would always turn my first grade ass loose in Waldenbooks and instead of reading kiddie books (I uh...I learned to read really early) I would find the filthiest shit like the "Tasteless Jokes" series (I collected them ALL and they were full of politically incorrect (racist, homophobic, misogynistic, dead baby, etc.) jokes that would make you all blanch)...and my mother would just pay for it without even bothering to look at what I was getting (it's how I got my beloved "Story of O" around 9 years old 🫠). Bitch owed it to me, she never cared more than what was necessary. And she was fucking mean to me.

Anyway I DIGRESS.

Boris 'makes biscuits'. Winnie has one. Mmhmmmm I smell Fill It Black puns and fic coming my way...now that I'm home I can work on the MG fic and make more cuties and shit. Jesus...that post earlier. I'm still kind of in that headspace, but now I'm safely at home. Can't wait to write on this shit. It works! And I'm a huge stoner.

This was basically me, but I was sweating and had my big Wednesday tote choking my neck

I was seeing things all the way home. 😵‍💫✨

Also my pup carrier is a front pack that allows her to stay seated, but AI can only do so much. That is what she looks like.

[kbtbb-soryu]

Queen of Ice [Ryota x OC] Chapter 8

Covered in sweat, I walked through the front door the next morning. I shuffled into the living room and saw Mr Mochizuki in the kitchen. He stared at me, wide-eyed.

“Were you... at the gym?” he asked, eyeing my clothes.

“Dance studio, technically. But same principle I guess.” I shrugged. 

“You must have been up pretty early, then,” he mused, a small smile playing on his lips.

I blinked. “Don’t tell me you’ve never even realised.” 

“Realised what?” He cocked his head to the side. 

“I go to the dance studio every morning.”

“Except when you oversleep.” The grin he gave me was playful.

“No, actually, I went that day. I just fell asleep again after I got back.” I shrugged. Then I noticed what he was doing. “What’s with the pancakes?”

“Figured something a little more breakfast-y would be nice for a change.”

I eyed the pancakes. “Kind of elaborate, but okay.” With the pancakes, there was a light salad, soup and fruit cups. Even café au lait.

“I call it the Mochizuki Special. Now pull up a chair, and eat my special.” 

I chuckled. “Can you give me a minute to change first?” I didn’t bother waiting for an answer before going to my room to change out of my sweaty clothes. 

“Slather my special delight in my jam, too. That’ll make it even better!” he said when I sat down at the table. I pulled up my nose.

“Hard pass.” I found him scratching nervously at his nest of tangled hair. “What?”

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday.” I looked down at the food. 

I sighed. “I’m not interested in empty apologies,” I replied coldly.

“Haruka.”

I slowly looked up at him. “I’m not trying to be rude. I’m sure you’re sorry about the way you handled it, but you’re not sorry about what you said, because you were right. I forgot myself. It wasn’t my place to inquire about your personal life and your past.”

“It’s cool. Water under the bridge.” I didn’t answer as I picked up a fork. 

“So, what would you like on your pancakes? Honey, maple syrup? Jam?”

“How about all of the above?”

“Good, because that’s what I was gonna do, anyway.” He smiled in an attempt to make the atmosphere lighter.

“I was being sarcastic. I’m not rearing to get diabetes, thanks.”

He chuckled. “I thought you’d say something like that.”

I shrugged. “So? What are your plans for today?” I asked before shoving a piece of pancake into my mouth. 

“Video games,” he replied.

“Didn’t you play games all day yesterday?” I asked.

“Yeah, and I want to do it again today. I’m not even close to being done. Wanna join me?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I have plans with Eito today.” I finished my breakfast and put the plates in the sink. “Thanks for the pancakes. They were really good; not too sweet.” 

After school the next day, I stared at the mark on my practice math test. I had only scored a sixty. No surprise there, I supposed. I could barely concentrate and I didn’t finish the test in time. I remembered what Mr. Mochizuki said before the test.

“If you can’t score high enough on this test, it’ll be tough to pass the midterm with a ninety.”

I reviewed the test, but I didn’t take anything in. Then I heard a thud from outside the classroom. I looked up. Eito was the only one with me. 

“What was that?” I asked. Eito shrugged. I stood up and exited the class to see what was going on. In the hallway I found Sato and Mr. Mochizuki talking. I arched an eyebrow at them, but went back into the class.

“What was it?” Eito asked quietly.

“Dunno. Just found Sato talking to Mochizuki,” I said, my voice flat.

“Sato, huh…” Eito mumbled. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Why is Sato taking remedial classes?” Eito asked. 

“How the hell should I know? Why don’t ask him?” 

“He’s always staring at you,” Eito said. I shrugged. I wasn’t particularly bothered by things that happened all the time anyway. 

“I bombed that test today,” I muttered as soon as I got home that day.

“Because you didn’t manage your time properly. That bad habit of yours rears its ugly head once again,” Mr Mochizuki told me.

“It never happens on other tests…” I said.

“Look, if you don’t want to give up, then you’ve got to suck it up and push through. Med school is gonna kick your butt if you’re not driven. You’ve got a dream to realise, so there are only two options: go big or go home.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing. What, you think I haven’t been trying?”

“Then you’re not trying hard enough.”

“How can you say that?” I stood up, fuming.

“Hey. Can you honestly say you’re giving 110 percent? Can you?”

I snorted derisively and sneered at him. “Like I want to hear that from someone who gave up in his so-called dream. Sorry I can’t be oh-so perfect like you.” I lashed out, my voice carrying an icy edge to it I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. I stormed into my room and slammed the door shut.

 I ran my hand through my hair. Talk about being an ice queen. He didn’t deserve that. I was angry because he was talking the truth, and I hated it. I was the one who wanted to fight the odds and aim for med school. He was only trying to help. I hadn’t been working as hard as I knew I could. It wasn’t his fault. Unable to sit around any longer, I headed for the kitchen for some water when I noticed light seeping through Mr Mochizuki’s door. I poked my head in and found him preparing for his lessons tomorrow. He was up late working… He was working so hard, doing everything he possibly could… How could I have said something so cruel to him? Gave up on his dream? He wasn’t someone who would do that for no reason. Attacking something like that… 

He wouldn’t be the teacher he was if he didn’t work hard. Always thinking about his students, staying up late to prepare for classes. I owed him an apology. I remembered how he played to his strengths when he wanted to apologise to me, and I decided to do the same. I brewed some cocoa and took it to his room.

“Hey,” I said softly as I knocked on his door.

“You’re still up? Get to bed or you’ll sleep right through your alarm tomorrow,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m… really sorry about what I said earlier. I lashed out and that was unfair of me. You did nothing wrong.” My lip quivered and I bit it.

“Felt good to get all that off your chest, though, didn’t it? We can’t carry the weight of those kinda feelings around with us all the time.” How could he be so cool with this? Not only did I yell at him, but I also attacked something that was obviously very fragile to him. He was always so understanding, so accepting… Felt good? No, it didn’t. It felt like crap. I didn’t say anything that I really felt. I looked down and noticed some clump in his hands.

“What are you doing?” I cocked my head to the side.

“Oh, this? Just a charm I’m making for the soccer club. It’s nothing special… Just a little prayer to help them win.”

“That’s… kinda sweet, actually.”

“I was gonna make each of the guys a soccer ball, and stitch their number on it.” My eyes widened. “What?”

“Don’t tell me that’s supposed to be a soccer ball.”

“That was the plan, anyway, yeah?” I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t see it? You’ve got the black and white bits here, and then you sew them… Erk! Damn it.”

“Prick yourself?” I walked over to him and put the mugs down on his bedside table.

“No, just grazed it.” He looked away.

“Don’t even bother trying to hide it. I see right through you.”

“Psh, I’m a man… and it takes more than a little needle prick to hurt me. Here, now look. Doesn’t that look like a soccer ball to you?” He held up his shoddily sewn black and white monstrosity.

“No, it looks like a rice ball.”

“There are rice balls shaped like soccer balls, I’ll have you know.”

“That isn’t one of them.”

“Just, look with your heart, not your eyes.”

I sighed. “Give me that, Pocahontas.” I snatched it out of his hand.

“Hey! I can sew just fine.”

“The state of your project speaks louder than anything you could say.”

“Right, sorry. I think I’ve met my match with this sorta stuff.”

“You need to be more precise about cutting. Soccer balls have a very specific pattern.” I spoke as I tried making a decent soccer ball for him. “A 3D one may be a little tough; I can do it, but it takes a lot of time. If you’re good with a flat charm, this ought to do it.”

“Wow, colour me impressed.” I shrugged. “Haruka… Would you, uh, mind helping me? If I were left to my own devices, I’d end up making a bunch of rice balls.”

“What did you think I was doing?” I asked, brushing off the astonishment I felt at him turning to me for help.

“You’re a lifesaver. Seriously.”

“Can you iron the number patches on?”

“I can do that much.” He smiled broadly. Together we continued making the little soccer charms.

“We only have three more to go,” I said.

“We might actually be able to get through all of ‘em tonight.”

“If only you’d come to me sooner.”

“I couldn’t have asked you to help; you’re not part of the soccer team. Besides, I just…” He stopped himself from saying more.

“Don’t like relying on people?” You’re just like me.

“Well, yeah. I’m a never-say-die kind of guy. But…” he trailed off.

“But?” I urged him to go on.

“Working with you has been pretty fun.” The iron in his hand, he turned a big smile on me. My stomach somersaulted, despite myself. “Can’t even remember the last time I stayed up late with someone, chatting… Probably not since I was in high school myself, working on the school festival.” That big, innocent smile was one I’d never see in school. I was happy that he was enjoying hanging out with me. We continued working for several hours after that and before I knew it, I was asleep on his couch.

 When I groggily opened my eyes the next morning, I found my teacher fast asleep next to the table, cheek resting in the crook of his arm. It was a bit of a thrill thinking how I spent the night in his room with him. My eyes fell on him once more. Sleeping like that, he was going to wake up with the worst bedhead. I was reaching for his hair when he shifted, his head finding my shoulder. I froze, unsure of what to do with this new, sexy weight. I could feel his heat through the thin fabric of our clothes. For a moment, I imagined what it would be like if I could snuggle with him, his arms wrapped around me. The thought made me want to slap myself. I poked his forehead.

“Hey. Wake the hell up.”

He opened his eyes drowsily. “Hm? Oh, sorry about that.”

“Hmph. Be thankful I didn’t push you to the floor.” Realising what I just said, I raised a finger. “That came out wrong.” He snapped back from me, to sit up straight in his seat.

“What’re you staring at?” he asked.

A mischievous smirk spread over my face. “You’re cute when you sleep.”

“So I’m ugly awake?” He jabbed a finger into my forehead. Damn, he wasn’t even frazzled. “I don’t think you’ve got the time to be clowning around right now.” I looked at my watch. “Alright, let’s hurry and get ourselves ready.”

“Don’t forget to take the charms today. I don’t want all that hard work wasted,” I said.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll make sure to bring them.”

“Mind if I keep this?” I pointed to his disaster of an attempted charm.

“If you want it, it’s all yours,” he said.

 I arrived at school bleary-eyed and sleep deprived. After lunch, I stepped outside for some fresh air and watched the soccer team from afar.

“Mochi, you made these charms?!”

“More or less…” Mr Mochizuki said.

“Damn, Mochi Stewart over here!”

“There’s no way we’re gonna lose our next game, now!” The players were elated with his gift.

For a moment his eyes met mine. Don’t tell, he mouthed to me. I smiled slightly, and I swore I could make out a smile on his face too. I found a charm dangling in front of me.

“You made these, didn’t you?” Eito asked.

“What makes you say that?” I asked nonchalantly.

“I know your handiwork.”

I smiled wryly. Eito knew everything about the stalker and my living with Mr Mochizuki. My teacher would probably throttle me if he knew I told someone, but there was no one I trusted more in this world than my cousin. 

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[nihilnovisubsole]

i think i followed you Back In The Day, seven years and seven blogs ago, for something related to mass effect (zaeed? maybe? who could say) and it's wild to come back to this site years later and find you thriving, surviving, growing-- playing ffxiv! love that game. curious how you'll feel about some side characters in shadowbringers, but i won't spoil which ones.

i do have real questions, though; writing tools. not pens or software, but personal structure tools and/or guidance. what does a beat sheet look like, for you? do you have a favored way of outlining or note-taking on your own thoughts when putting a story together?

and... i'm really curious how you hold a big story together in your head while you work on it in pieces, especially for something like dangerous crowns. there's this larger story i've been chasing around for a while, and I can't quite wrap my head around how to write the political/espionage plot for it without feeling like i've actually written a children's pantomime. the best i've got so far is "research real life events and use those as my outline" but after a point it becomes hard to keep track of all the variables of who knows what about whom, who is planning x when y, etc, etc. the characters don't need to know all that-- and may never know some things-- but i feel like /I/ need to understand what's happening on the macro level so i can move the world around them appropriately.

short version: how do YOU wrap your head around writing complex plots?

hey, anon! i started endwalker this week after a long... uh... glamour detour, so don't worry about spoiling things. i spoil myself for a lot of stories on purpose anyway. let's just say i've been attached to one too many characters who got killed.

anyway. writing. i've always handled plots the same way: clear documentation. if i don't note it down, i'm not going to remember it. i've used the same table outline since around 2014. it varies in detail for different projects, but the core format stays. i know it's kicking around in my blog archive somewhere, but it's worth reposting once in a while because people like to ask about it. here's what it looks like, featuring plot points cribbed from an endeavour episode:

i used this format for an outline at work a while back, and the team found it easy to follow, which was a big day for my ego. keeping track of plot structure is even more chaotic at work because we have multiple writers who all need to stay on the same page. we have very meticulous notes on what the player should know at which point, when we're introducing new information, and what we know, but shouldn't tell. we're also not above leaving notes like "this character has to convey X," "this character has to learn Y here," or "this is a clue that they're planning Z." it can be super on-the-nose. all that matters is that it makes sense to you. because you're right - if you get too lost, you can write yourself into logic holes of tremendous proportions. ask me how i know!

[as a sidenote, researching real-life events as a starting point has really grown on me in the past few years. my lead on coh3 had me do it. he said we were dealing with real people's history, so we couldn't be cheap or play fastball - we had to be accurate to pay it respect. even if you're not writing historical fiction, it just gives you insight into how people behave.]

i would argue that the plot of dangerous crowns is actually not that complicated, maybe to its detriment. there's kind of a genre struggle going on. at voltage, we were taught romance fans came for the relationship beats and valued them above all else. in fact, leadership told us players got irritated - which meant less sales - when the plot was too complex and took time away from the making out. political thriller fans, by contrast, expect relentless twists, high stakes, and harsh consequences, and sometimes see the relationships as superfluous.

but whatever. the point is, when you look at dangerous crowns' structure, it's a pearl necklace: a chain of anchoring events. the "pearl" scenes are where Big Plot happens. they're the reason you want to write the story, and probably the ones you have the most vivid daydreams about. the scenes in between are the string. not flashy, but important because they connect the pearls. they build tension and add logic, cohesion, and context. take the opera and hector's failed assassination. those are pearl scenes. that's a burst of drama i really wanted the story to build up to. i also had other flashbulb visions. livia by the fountain questioning herself, marcus' macbeth moment, the temple riot, things like that. so the question was, how could i believably travel between these pearl scenes? how could i make these big showcase moments connect smoothly?

if you're having trouble holding the story together in your head, i would ask, "what are your pearls?" what are the anchor points? outline those. it might not look like a necklace yet, but you'll sort of see it taking shape. and then, once you can see where your heart's-desire milestones are, you'll have a clearer idea of what can't fire until you set it up first. two other neat things can happen here. you could find the rhythm of your pacing, or realize you have a lot more plot meat than you thought you did. even if you don't, you have some road. and if you can't think of the string, sometimes you just have to start writing the pearls and see what comes to you.

good luck!!

[gryphon1232]

DRS Universe Info Post

Hey all! This is going to be a long post, and it's going to break down a lot of my work on the universe!

🛑What is the DRS Universe?

The DRS Universe is a connected fictional Formula One-centric universe. The history of the sport generally follows the real world counterpart, and for the most part, the world is kept as similar to the real world as possible, but things such as sponsors, drivers, teams, wins and events throughout the history of the sport are brand new.

🛑General Info/Q&A:

🛑Why does the DRS Universe Exist? I'm a very big fan of F1 and of Writing, and I wanted to mix those things together and write an F1-Based novel. I'm also a fan of creating OC's and having more control over what I write, so it was only natural that I'd make my own teams and drivers. That expanded to stuff like sponsors and some brands and companies in the universe, etc. I tried to keep the broader strokes of the sports history accurate to the real world as well, but I made new, fictional historic drivers, events, dates, etc. 🛑What is the current season? The current season as of the novel I'm currently working on (shunted) is 2023! 🛑What is Shunted about? Shunted focuses Lance Adams and Alexandre Lareaux, enemies-and-rivals turned teammates. It follows them as they navigate the 2023 season, and even worse for both of them depending on how you look at it, their newfound friendship and possible romance. 🛑Why are there 11 teams? Because more teams + more drivers + more cars on track = more fun. Also, because I wanted 11 teams, and it's my universe.

🛑What are the teams?

(This is a list based vaguely on each teams' performance throughout the 2022 season.)

Delphi Voltage Racing

Aurelia ABM F1 Team

Scuderia Rossetti

McGrath Racing

Hayworth Moore F1 Team

Cautiline-Aimé

Reinvoire GP

Pearsons Racing

Scuderia AltairShock

Modena-Roth

Hurst F1 Team

🛑Who are the drivers for the 2023 season?

(Drivers names are listed, followed by their driver number, nationality, age, birthdate, height, and first season in F1. If something hasn't been decided yet, there will be a "TBD" in that section, if a driver has won a WDC, there will be an "🏆" following their name.)

Delphi Voltage Racing:

Felix Akerson 20 • Swedish • 23 • TBD • TBD • 2020 Kennedy Grant 14 • American • 20 • TBD • TBD • 2023

Aurelia ABM F1 Team:

Annika Becker 🏆 33 • German • 37 • TBD • TBD • 2006 Émilien Rousseau 6 • French • 41 • TBD • TBD • 2001

Scuderia Rossetti:

Alexandre Lareaux 11 • Monégasque • 25 • 8/26/1998 • 5'9 • 2017 Lance Adams - 🏆 5 • British • 25 • 12/29/1998 • 5'11 • 2016

McGrath Racing:

Noah Landvin 8 • Belgian • 23 • 6/4/2000 • 5'7 • 2019 Jack Palmer 47 • Kiwi • 21 • TBD • TBD • 2022

Hayworth Moore F1 Team

Scarlette LaRosa 50 • Spanish • 22 • TBD • TBD • 2022 Beatrice Camelio 88 • Italian • 21 • TBD • TBD • 2022

Cautiline-Aimé

Connor O’Riley 77 • Irish • 26 • TBD • TBD • 2016 Owen Lancaster 76 • American • 20 • TBD • TBD • 2023

Reinvoire GP

Benjamin Accardi 4 • Australian • 32 • 5/24/1991 • 6'0 • 2013 Mateo Vassallo 44 • Mexican • 24 • 5/17/1999 • 5'8 • 2017

Pearsons Racing

Giang Mai Linh 99 • Vietnamese • 25 • TBD • TBD • 2018 Vincent Fortin 28 • Canadian • 25 • TBD • TBD • 2017

Scuderia AltairShock

Matthew Coleman 16 • British • 19 • TBD • TBD • 2022 Toru Kajima 81 • Japanese • 18 • TBD • TBD • 2023

Modena-Roth

Cláudio Amaral - 🏆 21 • Brazilian • 43 • 8/17/1980 • 5'7 • 2000 Marco De Caro 61 • Italian • 24 • 1/19/1999 • 6'0 • 2018

Hurst F1 Team

Martijn Van Hall 24 • Dutch • 36 • TBD • TBD • 2009 Charles Stafford 58 • British • 42 • TBD • TBD • 2001

I leave you with this little piece of art/graphic design I did to introduce my drivers!

The Results of the 2023 Formula 1 Chronex Australian Grand Prix:

[zimulacrum]

I of course had to do this, as Monster High has been an important part of my life for... yeah, over 10 years now. As a queer, disabled (mental and physical), arab, nonbinary ghoul who’s lived in Texas my whole life, this brand has been #1 in helping me accept myself and learn to love those around me. As my class ring reads, "be yourself, be unique, be a monster" has been the words l've lived by for a thrilling 13 years, and if my school did senior quotes, mine would probably be something like: “and for the very first time, they finally liked who they were looking at”.

Identifying myself so close to Frankie Stein has helped me as well, especially in these high school years. When I was younger, I always thought I’d become Jane Boolittle or Robecca Steam (surprisingly), but as I got into my freshman year, I realized that Frankie was who I wanted to be. Though many people may not like her (G1 referral), she was a happy, science-loving ghoul who was nice to everyone no matter what, even those who did not take her seriously. She always kept a smile on her face and wanted nothing more than to help her friends, have fun, and be herself. That’s what I wanted to be, and that’s how I made it—even with all the negative energy in my electric brain that I can not fix.

And it’s not just the fab fictional creatures that have helped me, it’s also the voltageous friends I’ve made along the way because of it. I’ve made friends in cosplayers online, fans in my theatre class, and even the members in the subreddit have been some of the NICEST people I’ve ever met. And in fact, because of posting about Monster High online, I’ve met my future roommates, and the best boyfriend I could ever ask for; hell, he was a Jackson cosplayer. Perfect, isn’t it?!

So with me graduating in my freaky fashion, and Garrett Sander himself conbatulating me on doing so, this is Frankie Z, taking their limb-dropping bow from “V” High School—but never will I be leaving Monster High! ⚡️💚

[mrszeoxin]

About Me/Why Did I Make This Account

I started playing otome games when I was fairly young (around 13 years old). This was one of my biggest hobbies and obsessions for almost four years of my life.

All of my birthday and Christmas money went towards these games, but they were also a sort of secret that I only told those closest to me about. Looking back I don’t understand why I was so scared to tell people I like otome games, even though I told just about anyone about my love for anime, manga, vocaloid, books, and fan fiction. Maybe it’s because I was worried my parents would find out and be horrified, but I really don’t think any of them were too bad.

In my peak of playing as a teen I had spent well over $400 on mobile otome games, although I mainly tried to find free ones since I was young and broke. I play just about every free otome game I could get my hands on from 2013 to late 2017. My favorites were ones from Voltage Inc., I loved them so much that I spent majority of that $400 on these games. I also ruined my already pretty pathetic sleep schedule in high school to play Mystic Messenger for about a year straight.

However, around that time I slowly stopped playing. It wasn’t because my love of the games and these stories faded, but rather I finally got a irl boyfriend to obsess over in real time, so I naturally just played less and less. Because of this I missed the memo Voltage was deleting all their individual apps to instead have one mega app (Love 365). So when I tried logging in to show my boyfriend my “hidden hobby” only to find my $400 worth of games gone forever because I was just shy of the deadline, it broke me and I gave up on them for a long time.

This brings me to the present, I’m 22 about to be 23 in a month or so, and that first boyfriend is now my husband. I’m happy, but I really started to miss the otome games of my youth. They brought me so much joy and comfort in my darkest and most awkward years. It was sad to think I hadn’t played these games I loved so much in years, and I just wanted to relive the games that got me through so much. It’s so comforting and nostalgic. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a story and some romance. If I can watch romance anime and read romance novels, why can’t I play these games again? Especially since I’m actually the age of the target demographic now!

So I picked it up and started slowly getting back all the games I had lost. I started playing again and it felt amazing, it was like running into an old friend who you’ve missed for years, but could never seem to reach out to.

With all that said, I really wanted a place to share my thoughts as I revisit these games I used to love, as well as for ones I’ve never played. I’m so excited and just wanted a place to share. If you are interested feel free to follow, otherwise I’ll just post here to the void.

[nicklloydnow]

“I finished “Heat 2” the other night and then couldn’t sleep a wink afterward. Perhaps this has happened to you, where you’ve read an intense book or watched an intense film or TV show and your mind wouldn’t let it go. Didn’t want to let it go. Had to stay IN the story, even when you were pleading with your mind to not do that. I sailed through the final chapters of this novel and absorbed, through sheer proximity to its driven characters, a surge of my own. An inner voltage. Rest was impossible. I wanted to get up. Rob a bank. Rob all of the banks. Rob a mint. A treasury. Invade entire countries and then deftly help myself to the entirety of their riches. I wanted to do a lot of crime, and I still do.

I also wanted to become a different writer entirely.

(…)

So it was only natural that Mann, no stranger to rehashing his own material, would want to dive back into this particular world. Where this turns audacious is with Mann deciding to make his sequel to “Heat” not as a movie, but as a novel. His FIRST f—king novel, no less. He may have had bestselling author Meg Gardiner as his co-author for this book (I will now commence reading all of Gardiner’s work), but it still takes a lot of balls to make a sequel to a movie you made 27 years ago, do it in an entirely different form, and give it the straight-up title “Heat 2,” as if this is the most natural franchising move one could make. You’re flirting with fan fiction when you attempt this kind of stunt.

And indeed, the opening of “Heat 2” almost had me concerned that this stunt would leave Mann a wet spot on the bottom of a canyon floor. The prologue is a somewhat clumsy synopsis of the 1995 film. The prose is in present tense and reads very much like the stage directions in a screenplay. It’s clear Mann is doing this for the first time (“I have no idea how to write a novel, OK?” he told the New York Times).

(…)

If that sounds complicated to you, it doesn’t read that way on the page. This is because Mann breaks a lot of cardinal rules in “Heat 2” — “show don’t tell” being perhaps the biggest one of all — to give you a crystal clear idea of who these men are and how they’re maneuvering against one another. At first, this comes off as simplistic. But once you get into the rhythm of the language, those concerns fade away and the prose feels necessary. Active. In fact, nothing in “Heat 2” feels superfluous. In terms of story, it’s the rare sequel where both the original and the follow-up enrich one another. Consume both together and you know it’s the product of the same auteur. The same vision.

(…)

Most of all, you see the work. Mann, like our best artists, is so dedicated to authenticity that he does the research of a Pulitzer-winning journalist (as did Gardiner) to nail the exact details of the story: which guns the characters use and how they use them, which cars they drive and why, which stash houses they use and what those places look, sound and smell like. That work is on the page. The dialogue and details all feel real because they are real. Everything that feels fake or needless, including the word “and,” is left on the cutting room floor. What you’re left with is pure, 100% uncut story.

(…)

I have read a small number of novels in my life that left me saying “I need to write like this.” It’s a predictable list of titles for a prep school kid: “Catch-22,” “Confederacy of Dunces,” “Ulysses,” “World War Z,” etc. But “Heat 2,” more than any of those, showed me what it takes to write a story that’s unlike any other. You focus. Observe. Concentrate. Absorb. Then, only when you know as much as your characters know, are you ready to rock and roll. That is where the nuts and bolts of inspiration are to be found. Slap a WWMMD bracelet on my wrist, because “Heat 2” shows you how this is done. It’s not easy work, but the payoff is enormous.”

“Like Heat, the novel’s narrative unfolds in the labyrinthine spaces of post-industrial global capitalism: in the cracks and detritus of modernity, in the non-places.

This is a world where high-tech consumer products sit alongside covert military weapons in the marketplace. Where shopping malls proliferate like airports, with private armies – and where the internet is just one part of a logistical infrastructure forever greasing the wheels of capitalism.

Legal or illegal, it makes no difference, the novel suggests. Only the players change. They seek investment and profit wherever it comes, supported by security and communications systems and informational flows. Mann and Gardiner are clearly awed by the ethereal, electric brutality of this thing, this hyper-object called “free trade.”

(…)

The most important medium-specific aspect of any narrative is, of course, its style. Style is the thing that converts the presentation of information into art – the expressive dimension of a work foundational to its aesthetic qualities.

There have been some exceptionally written, stylistically idiosyncratic popular novels that have been perfectly translated into film. Thomas Harris’s Red Dragon is a great example, made by Mann as Manhunter in 1986. The pop, neon-lit prose of Harris is adapted effortlessly into Mann’s high modernist aesthetic, so that reading the novel and watching the film become strangely similar experiences.

An equivalent thing is at play in Heat 2. Mann/Gardiner’s style perfectly translates the style of Heat into a radically different medium. This is no small feat.

We read prose that interweaves vivid and precise description with expressionistic, existentially charged passages. We are awed, as in the film, by the starkly drawn genre characters, by the melancholic, romantic images of solitary figures battling for survival in a sparkling but meaningless universe of complex and overlapping forces.

(…)

Mann has always been an auteur interested in what it means to be American. He studied in London, and has approached the question throughout his career with an internationalist sensitivity across multiple films and genres – from his kinetic adaptation of the The Last of the Mohicans (by the godfather of American action novels, James Fenimore Cooper), to the biopic of American boxing icon Muhammad Ali.

This continues in Heat 2, with the literary medium giving him more opportunity to explicitly think about and theorise this Americaness.

(…)

Is this as good a novel as Heat is a film? Probably not. Heat routinely features in top 50 critic lists and enjoys enduring popularity. Heat 2 is excellent, written in lightning prose with flashes of brilliance, but it probably wouldn’t make anyone’s top 50 list of novels.

That said, its near seamless continuation of the story world of its antecedent makes reading it an incredibly pleasurable experience. And many of the touches that define Mann as an auteur – a hyper-real sense of place, an interest in the brutality and efficiency of global capitalism, a sense of character through surface details – are present in Heat 2.”

“Over the course of his long career, Mann has amassed untold amounts of research into various niche topics, from serial-killer psychology to cybercrime to 18th-century hunting techniques. The world of Heat offers him a big enough canvas to contain nearly all of those obsessions, and part of the fun of Heat 2 lies in watching its authors pull ideas and tiny details from across Mann’s entire filmography. A Thief-esque vault heist early in the book foregrounds the kind of process-oriented details that Mann fans rejoice over, such as which specific drill bit cuts best through poured concrete and how to bypass the relocking mechanism on a safety-deposit box. In the post-Heat timeline, a subplot involving malware recalls Blackhat, while a segment in Ciudad del Este, a free-trade zone in Paraguay, allows Mann to utilize a setting that was originally intended for the ending of Miami Vice (2006).”

“Each new Mann project shares a similar quality: it’s almost always simultaneously aesthetically of its time, but also way ahead of things. The whole idea for Miami Vice, for instance, can be summed up as “cop show plus MTV”: a formula tailor-made for its release in the ‘80s, but that, seen from today’s vantage point, seems the epitome of retro. There’s always this long strange gap, between when a Mann movie feels perfect and when it feels perfect again: being very closely tied to a specific time means you run the risk of feeling dated when that time has passed. I recall rewatching Miami Vice 20 years after it came out and thinking it looked so 1980; Heat similarly felt extremely ‘90s a decade after its release. And, somewhat tellingly, Mann’s 2006 film version of Miami Vice, starring Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx, was a box office success—but the critics weren’t as into it. One wrote, “Unlike the TV series, Miami Vice takes itself too seriously to be trashy—and too seriously to be much fun either,” while another felt, “It can look cool. But more often, as we wait for the lightning that never arrives, it frustrates.” At the time, people felt the movie was too post-9/11 gloomy and somber.

But the thing about Mann’s work is that, while it initially ages horribly, over the long run it matures into something spectacular. A decade and a half later years later, critics are writing about how Miami Vice went from “Misfire to Masterpiece,” quite possibly the only “cult favorite” I can think of that also happened to debut at number one and make $164 million at the box office. He has always had an eye (and an ear; the soundtracks are always top-notch) for details, the things that make scenes pop. All the blue light bouncing off of white marble or glass in Heat, the blinking lights of 1980s Chicago shining off of James Caan as he leans up against a beam in Thief, Don Johnson and Phillip Michael Thomas pulling up a Ferrari Daytona Spyder 365 GTS/4 to a phone booth under a neon sign as Phil Collins sings “In the Air Tonight.” These were all very specific choices and have left a lasting impact for a reason.

Heat 2 doesn’t have to contend with that. A film version might, but as a book that’s out in 2022 and set in both the late-1980s and mid-1990s, it’s basically Michael Mann historical fiction. That’s not something I ever thought I’d type, but given the opportunity, I wish there was even more of it now. It gave me a better understanding into how the creator of Heat saw an even bigger world, but also made me appreciate a guy whose work I’ve literally grown up on. That sort of thing doesn’t happen very often.

There are plenty of other directors who have great vision, who understand the style of a moment and how a certain song can truly capture the mood. But Mann’s whole thing is a trust in his own vision and an absolute belief that little details are a must. The guy seems to operate on a creative level not dissimilar from the one inhabited by some of the great fashion designers, who know that new seasons require new trends, but that good taste is timeless. Being able to turn that into a great story, whether Heat on the big screen or Heat 2 in a book, is a trick few besides Mann can pull off. There’s sex, violence, cool cars, bright lights, and a whole lot of grit. It all works together. When a character is at the Beverly Hilton—where “everything gleams,” including the “Lamborghini and the Bugatti parked outside the entrance, placed like ornaments,"—I kept thinking, Man, I can see that…in a Michael Mann movie. I want to see that in a Michael Mann movie. And if that doesn’t happen, then I’m happy I read it in a Michael Mann novel.”

[drama-glob]

Cutscenes #29

Breakout Stars

“What is it, Mama?” Juniper inquired, sitting up too in curiosity.

“I’m not sure darling,” Barb responded with a slight head tilt, now sliding off her mattress to stand up. It was then that she heard something like a gasp and a low thud, making her and her daughter stay still as they waited and stared outside their cell to see what happened next. A moment later, the sound of shuffling and footsteps came as an unknown figure came into view.

“Oh good, you’re still awake. I was worried I’d have to be rude and wake you,” the intruder in disguised charmingly spoke, flashing a pleased smile. The two women looked at each other, then back at the man just outside their cell; they continued to watch as they saw him grab the bars and easily swing it open, much to their amazement. Chris then stepped in and quietly showed that he had their outfits before informing the dancers, “These will be returned to you shortly once we’re free of this place. Congratulations ladies. I’ve been tasked by my boss to present you with an extraordinary opportunity at freedom and potential employment, but we must move on now or else their will be…undesired consequences.” His tone was polite and enticing enough, but the underlying threat of trouble, either from the guards or this man’s boss they weren’t sure and that was enough to make them go with him.

Here’s the link for AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37997185

[kamyru]

hi!! for the emoji ask, could you do👖, 🎀, 🍰 and🍧 for all 3?

btw i love your writing and i hope you take care of yourself <33

Hi! Thank you for requesting this! I had so much fun writing them. I hope you'll like the result. Enjoy and also take care of yourself. ❤️

P.S. If anyone wants to send me more asks, you can find the list with the emojis in here.

Sua Hasunuma

👖 - What is their go-to outfit?

Sua can style everything. When she has time, she transforms her old clothes into something new. Her style resembles a lot of "the light academia" aesthetic, with vintage influences and layers. As a former idol, she still knows how to look comfortable even in the most troublesome outfits.

🎀 - How would they fit into other worlds / aus? What aus would you like to try out? What fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

If we talk about Voltage Inc, I think all the games are because many are from the same universe. And this is true for all my OCs. 

🍰 - Favorite cake flavor? Are they specific about types of cakes?

Sua isn't a big fan of sweets. However, she can't refuse her father's homemade Japanese cheesecake. She is afraid that if she refuses him he will cut all contact with her. The man had asked his in-laws to teach him how to do it for too long to be turned down.

🍧 - Do they still have any objects from their childhood? What significance does it have to them? What would their reaction be if they lost it?

Sua has some objects from her childhood that are in her parents' house. However, there are some gifts from her fans from her k-pop era. Her favorites are handwritten letters. Once, she even thought about answering them but decided that they already forgot her. Sua always smiles when she reads them. If she loses them, she'll probably try to find them for a very long time and get nostalgic when remembering them.

Shirayuki Kiba

👖 - What is their go-to outfit?

Shirayuki had been skating for 21 years. She is now immune to cold weather due to the coldness in which she worked. So, she has no problem wearing light dresses even during Winter. She has shoes for the cold season that resemble skating boots. However, there's also a big chance that you can see her in sports clothes on her days off.

🎀 - How would they fit into other worlds / aus? What aus would you like to try out? What fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

I may sound dramatic, but let her die after her third accident and put her in "Death Parade". I think she and Chiyuki would have a lot to talk about. (I understood just now that Chiyuki and Shirayuki's names have something in common.)

🍰 - Favorite cake flavor? Are they specific about types of cakes?

During her skating career, Shirayuki was sure that her favorite cake was Tiramisu because it was very caloric, and she barely ate it. However, after her relationship with Kuranosuke started, he once tried to impress her by preparing that one cake, famous for being popular among ballet dancers - Pavlova cake, and for the first time in her life, Shirayuki appreciated it. So now her favorite is Kuranosuke's Pavlova cake.

🍧 - Do they still have any objects from their childhood? What significance does it have to them? What would their reaction be if they lost it?

Shirayuki doesn't have a lot of things from her childhood because the last time she was at home was nine years ago, and the last time she spent more than a few weeks per year was fifteen years ago. When she and her brother moved to Tokyo, she was only 12, and they didn't have enough space to take things from home. And after she and her parents went no-contact, she had never visited her home. Shirayuki has no idea if her things are still there, but she knows that her brother's things are because her younger sister sometimes brings them to her. Mostly, they are books. At first, Kuranosuke complained about her taking too much space, yet after finding out about her family situation, he let Riyuki bring as many of Ansetsu's books as Shirayuki wanted.

Noemi Daimon

👖 - What is their go-to outfit?

Half of this girl's family is from a country that mostly consists of mountains, and the other half is from one of the coldest regions in Japan. Noemi is genetically resistant to cold. So, most of the time, she'll be in thin clothes. Also, she likes to integrate clothes from the men's department in her outfits ("definitely" not because she's tall). So, there's a big chance to see her at the office in Togo's shirt, with a short skirt and a large blazer. Speaking of how tall she is: this girl wears heels. She can pole dance, so walking on heels is a piece of cake for her. However, outside the office, she can wear even her PJs while running errands, assorted with heavy boots. Konan finds his sister's style outrageous, Shirayuki - funny and cute, the youngest Kiba expects everything from her.

🎀 - How would they fit into other worlds / aus? What aus would you like to try out? What fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

Probably everything dramatic with childhood traumas, you name it.

🍰 - Favorite cake flavor? Are they specific about types of cakes?

Give her something chocolaty, and Noemi's Swiss half will melt, even if life made sure to temper her already. But don't tell her Swiss part of the family that her favorite cake is Sacher (which is Austrian). Let them think it's the chocolate cake roll.

🍧 - Do they still have any objects from their childhood? What significance does it have to them? What would their reaction be if they lost it?

YES! Noemi has a lot of precious things from childhood. They aren't expensive. Young adult Noemi sold nearly everything expensive to help her adoptive family. However, she still has her parents' wedding bands, some of her childhood toys that are now her siblings', photo albums, and blueprints from projects her parents worked at. The things that can't be used by her siblings are in a special box. This box is the material thing she will save first, in case of evacuating the house. If something happens with it, she'll most probably have an emotional breakdown. Noemi won't be mad, just extremely sad and devastated.

[fang-and-feather]

Sweet Heat

Fandom: Star-Crossed Myth

Rating: Explicit

Categories: F/M

Pairing: Zyglavis/OC

Words: 2437

Prompt(s): Christmas treats sugar rush and "A kiss under the mistletoe doesn't have to be where we stop.", from the "’tis the season for love" content creation challenge hosted by @xxsycamore and @voltage-vixen

Summary: Zyglavis didn't expect his girlfriend's sugar rush from the Christmas treats she might have overindulged into would turn into a new intimate experience for them.

This is a loose follow-up to Feather's Recovering my Star's Shine but is also an independent fic

Busy as Feather was with a multi-chapter crossover, she's finished her main plans and I'm just now fnishing my first... But at least I finished it

Not many people thought sugar could be worse than alcohol to make people go crazy. Zyglavis knew that his usually calm girlfriend could become quite electric at times. He’d seen her so full of coffee that she threw herself at work and, when forced to take a break, decided to decorate the house for Christmas in July, all to escape the nightmares plaguing her. He’d also seen her drunk, becoming clingy, and a bit tired, but he wasn’t prepared to deal with Rinka so full of sugar, though.

Maybe he shouldn’t have left her under the ‘supervision’ of the others when it was obvious the other girls were too busy to pay attention and the other gods didn’t think Rinka needed to be watched over unless she spent more than five minutes talking only to Ichthys.

But it wasn’t like he could have left his work aside for longer than he already had. He had promised to accompany Rinka to the charity event she had gone to in the morning, so he had to finish his work in the afternoon before their date.

Zyglavis should have known something wasn’t right when the volume of the songs went up, or when he found Rinka playing cards with some of the other gods and Reina. She wasn’t fond of playing games that relied partly on luck instead of pure skills and, although occasionally noisy, she was never that loud. But how could he have imagined the amount of sugar she had consumed in a couple of hours? He’d only made sure she hadn’t been drinking.

Through their date, though, he began noticing the other differences in her behavior. Rinka was extra giddy, speaking faster and laughing louder and more affectionate than she ever was in public.

Which led him to ask, while they were walking back to the mansion, what she had eaten or drank before they left, mostly trying to figure if someone had handed her something they shouldn’t, or from someone he wouldn’t have trusted such generous behavior from. Her answer, though, was a long list of the sweets she had prepared the day before to share and, apparently, she had eaten more than her own share of it.

There was no problem, though, right? She hadn’t done anything stupid or too embarrassing. And it wasn’t like she was drunk, either. Rinka was still on her rational side, just a little more energetic and open. They were going back and she would run out of that extra energy soon, or she would have an overdrive and shut down, like when she was drunk.

With that mindset, Zyglavis was shocked when they opened the front door of the mansion and Rinka stopped, briefly looked up and, giggling, pulled him towards her. When he, in surprise, didn’t resist, she kissed him, hard.

Rinka was never both this proactive and aggressive, especially where anyone could walk in on them. So, when she released him, Zyglavis also looked up, to see someone had hung a mistletoe over the door, and he remembered one of the other girls telling someone about how human couples had the tradition of kissing under them.

“The others should be back by now. Are we joining the party?” She asked him. That would be hard with the way she hugged him and nuzzled to his chest. “Because your scent is making me crave a different kind of celebration that may not be entirely appropriate for Christmas.” She looked up at him with glossy eyes and a very seductive smile he’d never seen before. “So… if you want…” she looked down for a moment, releasing him and one of her hands immediately went fidgeting with the keychain on her belt for a few seconds, before she looked at him again, with a softer smile and flushed cheeks. “A kiss under the mistletoe doesn’t have to be where we stop.”

As she reached for him again, he held her with one hand around her waist and was the one to kiss her, while, with his free hand, he snapped his fingers, transporting them to his room.

Rinka felt the world spin, and when it came into focus, she was trapped between a wall and her boyfriend’s body. When she kissed him back, Zyglavis seemed to relinquish control, letting her dominate the kiss.

She would have shied away from such behavior if the extra energy from all the sweet treats she’d eaten wasn’t making her body respond to her brain faster than she could asses what it was telling her so, instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and, on her tiptoes, with the wall supporting her, deepened the kiss..

There was a snap and the click of a lock as Zyglavis made sure no one would bother them. Feeling more confident with the security, one of her hands slipped under his clothes to touch his back, feeling his body shiver under her touch. The other hand moved to unbutton his jacket.

“As hot as I find you in your uniform,” she whispered, trailing kisses over his face, “especially with it a little loose, clothes like this are so much easier to take off.”

They had to part a little for her to remove the rest of his clothes, but as soon as they were off her hands were back on him, exploring his skin, her mouth trailing right behind in tracing the lines of his muscles, sometimes with soft kisses, others times leaving small marks. A low, almost imperceptible groan escaped Zyglavis when Rinka teased his side with the tip of her tongue while her hands worked to undo his belt.

Rinka would have liked to take it slower, but the extra energy in her system and the sight of the bulge in his pants were making her quite impatient. The winter clothes she was wearing were growing uncomfortable with the increasing heat radiating from inside her, but she insisted on using her energy to please him.

While she struggled, in her haste, with the belt’s buckle, Zyglavis stopped her, holding her wrists with one hand, the other caressing her hair, then her cheek, before cupping her chin and making her look up at him.

“Aren’t you eager?” His tone and expression were teasing, but his touch was gentle. “I love the enthusiasm, but I have other plans for now. You can have whatever you want later, if you behave.”

“Behave?” She chuckled, standing up when he gave her wrists a gentle tug. “I’ll try. But if behaving includes staying still and following orders, I can’t guarantee much.”

His only answer was once again pushing her against the wall and kissing her, taking charge this time. One of her hands once again explored his back, while the other reached to release his hair from its usual ponytail, combing through the soft locks afterward. Zyglavis, usually quiet, nibbled at her bottom lip, stifling a louder moan. He would probably deny it if she pointed out how sensitive he was to her touching his hair. It usually made him relax, but when he was already heated, Zyglavis seemed to find it quite pleasing, in the more intimate sense.

Zyglavis removed her upper layers rather fast after that, leaving only her bra and tights, for which Rinka was very grateful. Her clothes had been getting quite suffocating. Despite his own haste at that part, Zyglavis’ next kiss was as gentle as his touch that mimicked the position of hers, with a hand gently tangled into her hair and the other sliding down her back and teasingly pulling at the band of her tights.

“Zyglavis…” whatever she tried to say got lost in a moan when le let go and the band snapped back in place. It stung, but not enough to be displeasing.

“You are quite loud already.” He whispered, placing kisses along the shell of her ear. “Do you want me that much?”

“You are just teasing me on purpose.” Rinka protested.

Zyglavis chuckled, pulling back to stare at her, but she refused to look at him. One of his fingers traced her lips, and Rinka noticed she was pouting.

“Forgive me, my love. But you are acting so different and look so lovely flustered. Don’t worry, I won’t tease you for longer.”

Kissing her again, Zyglavis picked her up and Rinka warped her arms around his neck and lags around her waist while he carried her to the bed, laying her on the mattress without breaking contact. When she didn’t let go, Zyglavis chuckled and snapped his fingers again to get rid of the rest of their clothes.

Rinka tried to stifle a moan at the sudden contact of their bare bodies but, failing to do so, ground against him playfully, getting a low groan out of him. In response, Zyglavis ran a hand up one of her thighs, letting his nails graze her skin, which made her arch further against him.

He tried to pull away, but she still had her body wrapped around his. Zyglavis stopped touching her as much as he could, though.

“I told you to behave, didn’t I?”

“But you also said you wouldn’t tease me!” Rinka was sure she was probably pouting again, but unwrapped her body from his.

“I am not. As long as you behave.”

“Why? Do you dislike when I am like this?”

“Dislike it?” Zyglavis kissed her, rougher than he’d done all night, until she was out of breath. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you? I love you in every way, but when you provoke me like that, I feel like I’ll lose control and demand more from you than your body can take.”

The mood had gone from hot to purely romantic, but that wasn’t a problem. Solving things like that before they got into anything would make sure that, when they were done talking, they could start again with lighter hearts and minds and focus more on each other.

Zyglavis laid on his side and hugged her to his chest. Rinka reveled in his warmth for a moment before looking him in the eyes.

“I know that I’m only human, so I don’t have the same energy that you have, as a god, not only for this. I know I need much more to take care of myself. Food; sleep; more frequent breaks from anything mental and physically exhausting, but I’m not that easily damaged either, Zyglavis. You can demand as much from me as you need. Maybe not every time, but once in a while and especially in especial days like this. The things we do shouldn’t always be about me, my comfort or my pleasure. So,” Rinka pulled back a little with a playful smile and started tracing random patterns on his chest with ghosting touches, “how about tonight you take advantage of my sugar rush and think about what you want from me? I could handle twice as much of what we usually do and am a little less prone to being nervous if you want to try something different. I promise you I’ll tell you if I ever feel it is too much. It will be my extra Christmas gift to you.”

Rinka moved her other hand to his thigh, close enough to notice his cock still hard despite the interruption. Good, because she was warming back up fast, too.

“Are you certain of your words? I would rather not start something if we’ll have to stop in the middle because you are too tired. Although I will listen if you need to.”

“I am.”

The moment she nodded, Zyglavis pulled her into another heated kiss, one hand holding her, the other first cupping one of her breasts, then moving to tweak her nipple, making her moan into the kiss.

Then she tried to pull away, but the hand holding her moved to the back of her head, holding her in place. He changed from deep kisses to little pecks and occasionally softly biting her lip, both shutting her up whenever she tried to talk.

If both his hands were on her, who did the third hand parting her legs and the fourth that soon found her clit belong to? They didn’t have the warmth of a human body or the texture of one. Neither could she feel the body they belonged to. Except for something that occasionally poked at her from behind that, if she knew it was another male, could have been a cock.

When Zyglavis finally pulled back, he was also the first one to speak, his hand only resting against her chest now.

“You know I would never do anything to upset you, right?”

The hand teasing her also stopped and Rinka couldn’t tell where it had gone to or even if even existed at all while it wasn’t touching her.

Of course she knew. That’s why she wasn’t angry or afraid, just confused. If she had to guess and her boyfriend wasn’t right before her, she could have said it was him touching her, because this new touch felt like him, except that, even as a god, Zyglavis’ touch felt human enough.

Without either of them testing her, though, her mind cleared enough to connect the dots. It felt like Zyglavis because it was him. In a sense, at least.

He had taken her words ‘twice as much’ a little too literally and was using his shadow to create a threesome opportunity without the need of another person in their bed.

“I guess there can’t be anything more different than a threesome of two people?” Rinka laughed before kissing Zyglavis again.

The last thing her mind registered was a little surprise at him being able to make his shadow solid enough for this, before both pairs of hands were touching her again. She tried touching him back, but the double sensation of having her boyfriend in two places at once, four hands all over her body, his shadow’s cock between her thighs, sometimes rubbing against her entrance without going inside, made it even harder for her to focus on anything but the quick building pleasure.

But she wasn’t the only one. Zyglavis’ real touch faltered. He closed his eyes, breathing deeper and faster, groans escaping him a little louder than usual. It was obvious he could feel both the sensations of his real body and these of his shadow’s.

Rinka smiled, before a rougher touch to her clit made her moan louder and lose herself back into the pleasure.

Both of them had a Christmas night they would never forget ahead of them.

I also originally planned a longer and very different scene, but it seems I'm still a little burned out from my kinktober attempt for proper sex scenes... I like the results, though. Rinka (Amy, Linet other of her versions) is hard to write smut about because I imagine she is the most sexually shy and very vanilla of all Feather's OCs, even more than Hana, her younger sister, so I particullary love rare events that let me draw out a different side of her naturally

[nayablog2]

Tracing the beauty in the chosen work of Denny Ja 15: Balada Aneta

In the world of Indonesian literature, Denny Ja is known as one of the famous writers with his works full of beauty and meaning. One of the chosen works that should be listened to is Denny JA 15 essay poetry: Ballad Aneta. In this article, we will explore the beauty contained in the work. 1. Background Ballad Aneta Balada Aneta is a fiction essay poem written by Denny JA. In this essay poem, Denny JA tells the story of a woman named Aneta who fought against the limitations and difficulties of life. This story has a background during the war of Indonesian independence, where conflict and suffering became a part of everyday life. 2. Drawing Aneta Character One of the beauty in the Ballad Aneta is the depiction of the main character, Aneta. Denny Ja managed to describe the figure of Aneta as a strong, brave, and enthusiastic woman. Although his life was full of difficulties, Aneta never gave up and continued to struggle to achieve his dreams and goals. This character provides inspiration and motivation for readers. 3. Conflict and struggle in the story Aneta Balarades also showed the conflict and struggle faced by Aneta. Denny Ja carefully described Aneta's struggle in dealing with life difficulties, war, and discrimination. This conflict provides an attractive voltage for the reader and makes them continue to want to read more to find out how Aneta overcomes these obstacles. 4. Beauty of language and writing style Denny Ja is famous for its beautiful and flowing language and style of writing. In the Ballad Aneta, he uses a simple but captivating language, so that it makes the reader easily connected to stories and characters. The descriptive writing style also helps the reader clearly imagine every scene and atmosphere in this essay poem. 5. Themes and meanings in the Ballad Aneta The theme of loyalty, courage, and resilience is clearly visible in the Ballad Aneta. Through the story of Aneta, Denny Ja teaches important values such as the courage to face difficulties, loyalty to values and love, and resilience in facing the test of life. Aneta ballads provide valuable lessons to readers about the meaning of life and the importance of maintaining noble values in the midst of difficulties. 6. Conclusion Balada Aneta is one of Denny Ja's chosen works that shows the beauty in the stories, characters, languages, and themes raised. Denny Ja managed to present a story that inspired and inspired the reader's heart. Through this essay poem, the reader can feel the life and struggle of Aneta, and learn about important values in life. Aneta ballad is a concrete proof of Denny Ja's expertise as a writer who is able to bring beauty in each of his works. In tracing the beauty in the chosen work of Denny Ja 15: Ballad Aneta, we can feel the strength of the story, character, language, and theme raised. Aneta Balada is one of the works that are worthy of fans of Indonesian literature. 

Check in full: Tracing the beauty in Denny JA 15: Ballad Aneta Ballad

[kbtbb-soryu]

The Wild Rose [Tomoki x OC] Chapter 11

“I’ll follow your lead. Play with your left hand like you always play it. You don’t have to think about anything else.”

I kept playing. The second I removed my right hand from the keys, Tomoki’s replaced it, and together we finished the song without me having to stop. I felt happier sitting next to him, playing with him, than I have in a very long time. There was a smile on his face as he played. His passion; the enjoyment he felt. I felt it course through me. I smiled too. For the first time, in a long time. My eyes stung. It wasn’t too long before I felt the tears running down my cheeks. It was like we were the only ones in the world. For the first time in a long time, I felt alive.

We finished the song. Tomoki immediately got up, bowed and walked down the steps. I wanted to go after him, but I saw my dad make his way over to me. I inconspicuously wiped the tears from my face and walked up to my dad.

“Daddy!” He picked me up by the waist and twirled me around before setting me down.

“Hotaru. I couldn’t have asked for a better present.” My dad was positively glowing.

“I agree. That was unbelievable,” Ran smiled as she stood at my side.

“Aunt Hotaru!” Lauren leaped at me and Ran had to catch her. “Mooom!” she whined.

“Your aunt Hotaru’s hands are tired from playing the piano, sweetie. She can’t pick you up right now.” Ran winked at me.

“Awww!”

I stroke my niece’s hair and told my dad I needed some air. I didn’t want to leave Tomoki alone. I finally found him buying a water from a vending machine outside the ballroom.

“Tomoki,” I called out to him as I glided across the marble floors to join him.

“Come here.” He led me to a bench and we sat down. “Give me your right hand.” I did as he said and held out my right hand. He wrapped a handkerchief around the water bottle and pressed it to my hand.

“You didn’t get that to drink?” I asked curiously.

“No,” he said. “Does it hurt?”

“Not as much right now,” I looked down at my hand.

“Your hand is hot, and it could start hurting more later.”

“You worry too much. But, thank you for what you did back there. You didn’t have to.”

“You couldn’t play to the end with that hand,” he said, his tone gentle. “Miss Ichinomiya. Give me your left hand.” I didn’t even hesitate and he dropped a piece of candy in my hand. I stared at it. “You didn’t give up, and you came all this way.”

“If I was someone who’d give up so easily, I wouldn’t be fit to be Akira’s daughter. I’d never give up, not even in the face of adversity. But…” I looked up at him. “Thank you.” Tomoki’s eyes were so kind as he looked at me. A single tear spilled over my cheek.

“Why are you crying?” he asked. I gasped. Unable to bear looking at him, I turned my face away. “I’m not mad. You know that, right?” I could hear the distress in his voice.

“Why do you sound so flustered?” I asked, still looking away.

“Because, you suddenly burst into tears. That would throw anyone… Could you hold the water bottle?” I wordlessly took the bottle with my left hand. Then I felt the soft touch of his fingers on my chin. I startled, and looked at him with wide eyes. With a new handkerchief, he softly wiped the tears from my eyes. My lip quivered and my eyes narrowed. I covered my face in my hands. “Miss Ichinomiya?”

“I’m the one who’s thrown,” I muttered, my shoulders trembling. I took a few deep breaths and sat up again. “I was surprised, though. I didn’t think you’d come to my rescue. Not after you vowed to never touch the piano again.” Tomoki looked at the hand he used to play the piano. His expression looked happy, but somewhat complicated. I figured he must have felt very conflicted. To give up something you love for the sake of something else… I couldn’t do it, so I sacrificed something that I didn’t care much about anyway.

“Tomoki, there you are.” Yukari walked up to us, looking relieved. “I was looking all over for you.”

“I’m sorry I left without saying anything,” Tomoki said as he stood up. He looked down at me. “Miss Ichinomiya, keep the cold bottle on your hand. Don’t put it down.” I nodded. “We’re going to go. Goodnight.”

As soon as they left, someone else plopped down on the bench next time. There was no grace or class in the way she sat down, and I smiled.

“Yukino.”

“Men, am I right?”

I shook my head and looked at my best friend. “What are you talking about?”

She waved dismissively. “Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”

That weekend Tomoki gave me a dress and jewellery and told me to wear it. He wasn’t wearing his uniform. I had raised an eyebrow at him, not pleased with the way he was bossing me about, but humoured him nonetheless. He proceeded to take me to a concert hall.

“A piano concert?”

“Yes. You’ve been to places like this before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but it’s been a while.” The words spilled out of me before I could stop them, “At the party, you looked so happy when you were playing.” When he didn’t respond, I glanced at him from my peripheral.

“Once, I won the top place at a piano competition held here. I quit after winning. Playing at the party the other day was the first time I’ve played since then.” He looked at his hands and squeezed them into fists.

“You love to play…” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but I did.  

“It’s starting. No conversing during the concert,” he said. I smiled wryly. There was such a gentleness to the look on Tomoki’s face as he listened.

“I wish you could say you like something if you like it, without obligations,” I whispered, my words carried off by the gentle music in the air.

The concert ended, and Tomoki took me to a French restaurant.

“So you are human after all. Glad you’re not a robot,” I remarked.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you eat. You don’t run on gasoline.”

“No, I run on electricity.”

“What?!” I made a show of being shocked. “Then you really are a ro—”

“I’m kidding. Obviously, I’m human.”

I chuckled. “I know.” I grinned.

“You…”

“Thank you for today. I hadn’t been to a concert like that in such a long time. Listening to the piano was very soothing.”

“Actually, it really is supposed to help you relax. They say it can help lower blood pressure.”

“I heard about that,” I mused. “I used to listen to it before I went to sleep at night when I was younger.”

“It’s not only the piano. Listening to music has a variety of effects on the body.” Tomoki was animated during our conversation. We shared a deep passion for music, and I loved talking to him about it. The time flew.

“Desert was nice. Not too sweet,” I said after we finished.

“You make it sound like you don’t like sweet things.”

“I don’t.” Tomoki’s eyes widened. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to say that. “Well, maybe it’d be more accurate to say that I try to stay away from them as much as I can for various reasons. I drink it more than I eat it. Like in coffee and tea, and if I really have a lot of work to do, I drink energy drinks.”

“Those are worse than desert.” He looked at me like he really wanted to scold me.

“If I need energy, I need energy. Balancing it out is what you get paid for.”

Tomoki sighed, and I grinned.

 After dinner, Tomoki took me home. He praised me on a job well done, to which I playfully rolled my eyes. Just as I was about to go inside, the alarm of the tablet beeped loudly. I took it out of my handbag and saw the words Etiquette Lessons Complete flash on the screen.

“Finished, huh…” I muttered.

“It would be more correct to say that the lessons are finished for me.”

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” I asked.

“You’re right. This is my last day as your butler,” he replied.

I nodded, my expression calm. “Let me guess, the wedding?”

“Yes. I’m getting married in 10 days.”

“I… see. And then you’ll be working for someone else. Abroad.”

“Yes. This was decided a long time ago. My time has been limited, and because of that, I asked a lot of you. For that, I am truly sorry. I didn’t want to phone it in. For Mr. Ichijo, I wanted to make sure you’re someone who anyone would look at and say, ‘That is a fine lady’. To perfectly honest, at first I thought it was hopeless; you were so defiant. But… today I understood. You are a fine woman.” He softly placed a candy on my hand. Clutching the candy in my hand, my arm hung limply at my side. “At first I was doing this for Mr. Ichijo. But as I watched you apply yourself with such determination… I realised that at some point, I was doing it for you, too. You already know how hard it is to belong to an industrialised family. I know I can’t change your mind about Mr. Ichijo, but if I could ask you just one thing… Please give him a chance.”

“I’ll go to the party and meet him. But I can’t promise you anything.” I looked away.

“I understand.”

I looked back at him, a wry smile playing on my lips. “Also, you’re wrong about me, Tomoki. There’s nothing ‘fine’ about me. There are things about me and my past you don’t know. That nobody knows. Because if they did, I’d never be able to set foot in high society again.”

“Miss Ichinomiya…”

I shook my head. “Never mind. It’s not important. The point is, I’m likely not what you think.”

“I don’t think. I know.” My eyes widened. “I don’t know what happened to you, but I do know you.”

“I… see.” I looked down so my bangs would fall in front of my eyes. “I knew you had a fiancé, so I figured this day was coming,” I murmured.

“Miss Ichinomiya… Would it be wrong of me to think… that your performance back there was for me?”

I didn’t answer, instead opting to open my front door. “Thank you for everything you did for me… And, Tomoki?” I looked up. “Be happy… okay?” I didn’t wait for an answer before going into my apartment and closing the door behind me. Pressing my back against the door, I sunk to the floor. I rested my head against the cold wood. I was getting left behind again… No, that isn’t what this is. Tomoki… I love you. I didn’t think it would be possible for me to love anyone. Not like this. When did it happen? When did he become so important to me? I didn’t have an answer.

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