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 Posting a reply to post #3365

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3365 No.3365
So yeah. I am trying to get better at sexual tension and working it naturally into a story. I'd love some feedback.

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"Robin? I am worried about the Cyborg." Starfire had been feeling domestic that day, equipped with a bright blue apron and a how-to guide for making pie.

"Well, gosh, Star, what is it that has you upset?" And when, Robin thought, did he start smoking a pipe? Well, a bubble pipe.

"He has occupied his chair of shame for some time now, and I fear that his grief over his cousin's choices in life is starting to affect him." Starfire reasoned rationally, ignoring the prickle of annoyance that she felt as Robin did not put down his newspaper to talk to her.

"...he has been vegging for a whole, yeah." Robin admitted, a concerned expression on his face. "It'd be rude to disrespect his privacy, though. If he wants to talk about it, he will."

"Again with the privacy." Starfire groused, crossing her arms, huffing, and quickly trying to put out the small green fire her huff of stellar breath caused. "Would you let your brother starve simply because he is too proud to acknowledge his hunger?!"

"Maybe I don't want him to choke on it." Robin parried, looking a little moody himself, his teeth clutching the toy pipe viciously.

The kitchen trembled, a little, when Starfire slammed her mighty fist into the counter top. "This is not about you, Robin!" She commanded, her hair fluttering behind her as though she were in a mighty wind.

Robin raised an eyebrow in momentary confusion, and decided on Plan: Alfred. "No. It's not." The Boy Wonder agreed in a frozen, polite tone, gently turning a page of his newspaper with a distinctive snap of dismissal. The action lost some of its bite, however, when bright green eye lasers left Robin's paper a smoking ruin. Robin only had time to widen his eyes before being caught in Starfire's iron grip, finding himself a foot above his chair, held fast by the strong right arm of the warrior princess of Tamaran.

"Your lack of concern is..." Strarfire pulled him closer, presumably to show off her teeth-strong enough to tear metal plating, if necessary. " irritation."

"So you're..." Robin would later admit to himself that the forced calm in his voice and expression was solely to further irk Starfire. "...frustrated."

She reacted predictably; eyes glowing with stellar might, Starfire gripped him with both hands and bellowed, "I am triumphant! You are defeated and you shall obey the will of your conqueror!"

This brought, as Robin had reasoned before Starfire lost her temper, the perfect moment to detach his cape, grab Starfire's wrists, and kick backwards rapidly, allowing a sudden flip up and over the princess, allowing Robin to rapidly press his knee right against the small of her back. This forced Starfire forward, causing his cape to cover her face and letting him tug her wrists over her head just as she landed on the table, her knees more than strong enough to support the two of them. Well, he hoped. Praying the princess did not sense his hesitation, the Boy Wonder forced himself to close the distance between them, almost whispering into her sensitive ear, "What was that?" He relished the shudder in her shoulders and the tensing of her neck. "About...defeat?"

Lingering hesitations were dulled (but never entirely dismissed!) by the unmistakable quiver of hunger on Starfire's lips as she breathlessly spoke, "You remain a clever enemy, earth man. It seems that..." She softened her stance, somehow inviting while remaining restricted. "...for now...I am at your mer-"

"-cy mercy me!" Cyborg boomed jovially, as he was wont to do after sulking for too long in his chair, "I gotta fever, and the only prescription is: more waffles! Star, Rob, you crazy kids want..." The half-man half-robot trailed off; the position wasn't exactly compromising, as there was a nun's ruler worth of space between the two, but gosh Robin and Starfire looked awful flushed, "A-am I interrupting something?"

"...I was just showing Starfire some submission holds." Robin calmly explained, internally groaning at his choice of words. "As there has been a twelve percent increase in meta-offenders potentially capable of using her alien strength against her."

"It has been an aducation!" Starfire chirped enthusiastically, as though the fact that she was on her knees and her arms were being held behind her was a perfectly normal sort of thing. "That is, an adventure in education."

Cyborg raised a finger, largely so that his quick check of the tower's crime files would not be obvious. "In the kitchen?"

"Crime knows no boundaries, Cyborg." Robin grimly observed in his best 'lovably obsessive leader' voice.

This, paired with his statistic being accurate, unnerved Cyborg enough to convince the big man to leave things be. "Okay! Good. Good luck with that. I'm gonna go to Chicken and Waffles to get some chicken and some bout I just pick you two up the usual?"

"Works for me." Robin forced a grin, but all of his grins looked a little forced.

"An accord has been reached!" Starfire's smile was just a little too wide, even for her usual jubilant nature.

And Cyborg? It is to his credit that he walked, rather than ran, to the door.

"...we've got to get more locks in this tower."


Freudian slips work, specially if they are intentional.

>I'm gonna go to Chicken and Waffles to get some chicken and some waffles
why did I lol

I thought the same thing while I was writing it.

Presumably Chicken and Waffles has a whole plethora of artery clogging foods available, sort of like how you can get a salad at Burger King.

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So, yeah, another day, another failed pitch.

Thinking that it'd be a good time to try and get a Mario cartoon going, I worked up a couple ideas I thought were pretty okay and was as successful as usual, though I did learn the importance of finding an art dude before spending a weekend writing up a character bible for the mushroom kingdom.

In retrospect, kind of obvious. ANYWAY, bitching aside, I thought some of the stuff was good enough to be worth looking at. I can throw up some of my notes if it seems of interest, but basically I was going for a mix of adventure and good old fashioned rubbery comedy; the first episode was going to be devoted to the brothers trying to unclog a key warp pipe, and the first story arc was going to involve a villain subtly poisoning the mind of one of the heroes so that he could escape from the prison he was sealed in.

Okay, yeah, not exactly super original, but there you go.

>another day, another failed pitch.

I didn't know you were going for TV writing. Can I ask who you pitched to? Or planned to pitch to, as the case may be?

No one specific. Basically I took a shot and went about it the wrong way, no big deal.

Anyway, some notes on monster designs for another project. (Other note: Maybe have Jenny write these in character as a fun thing.)

Goblins: Live in the forest and just on the outskirts of town. The goblin men range from three to five feet tall, and are a haphazard collection of thrown away or stolen clothes. They may or may not be where the left socks go. No one's seen what an unclothed goblin looks like...and lived...but the have a vaguely humanoid outline, fangs, horns, and spikes. Their leaders wear the best hats, which are usually bright red, and sometimes dyed with the blood of victims who made the mistake of trespassing on goblin land.

Dollfaces: Theorized to be former humans, the dollfaces are stealth operatives, often working for more powerful spirits on a contractual basis. There are apperently "brands" of dollfaces that occasionally fight over territory and resources. Dollfaces are made of sapient plastic that can imitate a human almost perfectly; the only way to discover a dollface when disguised is to pick up on the subtle, rigid tells they give, or find the brand mark somewhere on the thing's body.

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(Dollfaces? Really? Uh, plastiques? No, too french. hrm.)

Gonna try this off the cuff writing thing.


"Really?" The man in the bright red cape asked the pale, heavily muscled form that was hunched over, struggling with concrete foundation buried in the ground. The foundation held up a large metal pole, at the top of which was an overweight man-child winking at the universe and clutching a giant churro. In some way, Superman could sympathize.

Churros Grande was something of a Metropolis landmark, famous for being one of the few themed snack stands to survive the horrific winnowing known as 'The 80s"-until recently, that is, as leaner, better managed chains slowly pushed store after store out of business. All that was left was the original, which the owners were trying to get declared a historical monument in order to keep the bulldozers and wrecking balls at bay. Unfortunately, the local Latin American community didn't see Churros Grande as one of the few early toeholds of Latino culture during the turbulent middle of the 20th century, instead seeing the cartoonish El Churro Vato as something embarrassing and ugly, to be forgotten as soon as possible. Clark knew some of this because he had been conned into covering the story by the oh-so-wonderful Lois Lane, and after the sixteenth hour of hearing the same argument sputtered in a slightly different way on both sides, well, some part of Superman wanted to just let whatever was going to happen happen.

Letting out a sigh, the Man of Steel strode towards the figure, tapping it on the shoulder. "Excuse me? Sir? I'm afraid this is a public street, meaning that even if you can, ah, lift the building ou-" Superman's speil was cut off by the sudden introduction of if a powerful force("a fist") to a vulnerable position of his exterior("his jaw").

"ow." Clark muttered to himself, kicking in the sky and struggling against the force of the blow. Finally, Superman just took a swing forward, atomizing an innocent cloud and causing enough of a jolt to his body that the Man of Steel could regain control of himself. Kicking through the air, Superman's form starts to blur as he calculates the safest path to plow this mysterious invader through.

This train of thought was unfortunately derailed by another projectile flying through the air; shocked that he didn't sense it coming, Superman barely twists to the left, and watches as the silver sliver rockets towards the pale goliath below...

...who Clark now recognizes. "Shoot."

"I'd say I ain't got no beef with you, Big Blue!" Lobo, intergalactic bounty hunter and professional jackass howled out over the din, leaping into the air and grabbing onto his hover-hog with frightening dexterity. "But I know how much you hate when people fib...!" Eyes gleaming with sinister intent, Lobo hurls his meathook at Superman's position, hover-hog ripping through the air to try and impale the Man of Steel...!

well, within my limited sphere of experience, I'd say there's a few things you could do to improve your writing.

1) Try having a paragraph or two at the beginning that describes the scene and characters. As it stands you have a lot of action following speech, and sometimes speech interrupting action. All well and good in moderation, but generally the action happens in a paragraph and while speech and action can happen at the same time, it looks better if the speech and actions are not a paragraph in and of themselves. Speech should only have a simple action following it, an action that is performed in the time it took to speak. Description always belongs in its' own paragraph (unless you drop the odd adjective or adverb into the action).

2) >who Clark now recognizes

This should be recognized. Be careful about past and present tense. Actions occurring at the same time should always be in the same tense.

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1) I do need to work on my description, but these are scenes taken from a broader work, just FYI, which is why they might seem a bit abrupt. I'd show you something longer but I don't have anything finished that's worth reading-I've got three chapters of a half decent Evangelion fic.

Could you clarify a bit on the action thing? Like, should I be shooting for more paragraphs, or fewer?

2) oops.

Well here:

>"Robin? I am worried about the Cyborg." Starfire had been feeling domestic that day, equipped with a bright blue apron and a how-to guide for making pie.

>"Well, gosh, Star, what is it that has you upset?" And when, Robin thought, did he start smoking a pipe? Well, a bubble pipe.

>"He has occupied his chair of shame for some time now, and I fear that his grief over his cousin's choices in life is starting to affect him." Starfire reasoned rationally, ignoring the prickle of annoyance that she felt as Robin did not put down his newspaper to talk to her.

Each part after the speech is a long, descriptive sentence. This is generally bad. The rule of thumb in writing is the less commas the better. The general idea is to get the point of something across as quickly as possible.

Here's a creative writing rule that might help a lot: "Show, don't Tell". This means that emotion and thought should generally be conveyed without writing exactly what it is a character is thinking (hint: this is best done through actions). It also helps keep the comma count and the long descriptions down. So for example:

>"He has occupied his chair of shame for some time now, and I fear that his grief over his cousin's choices in life is starting to affect him." Starfire reasoned rationally, ignoring the prickle of annoyance that she felt as Robin did not put down his newspaper to talk to her.


>"He has occupied his chair of shame for some time now, and I fear that his grief over his cousin's choices in life is starting to affect him," Starfire frowned at the raised newspaper.

This is also why its' generally good to have a descriptive paragraph or two removed from the dialogue: it sets the scene and it sets the characters in motion, and lets the dialogue be set up for shorter actions. The short actions after speech convey the same idea as long descriptions, plus they're easier to read.

Don't worry about paragraph count. Paragraphs, I find, are generally for when there isn't a lot of talking. Dialogue is quick and fast, which is why the sentences are short and fire back and forth. When nobody's talking though, then it's a paragraph.

Grammar Time: when 2 characters trade dialogue very rapidly, you can just leave the dialogue as is once you've established the order of speech:

"Fine," Jack said.
"Good," Jill sneered.

And the reader will know that Jack said "great" and Jill said "fantabulous".

However, when only one character is talking, and the speech translates into an action, then the speech and action are separated by a comma and parenthesis:

>"That so," Carl asked, shuffling the cards.

you've been using a period and parenthesis.

Also, poetic devices can be used to further condense information and ideas; metaphor, simile, etc. Re-examinig the Carl example:

>"That so?" the cards thwacked into order.

Presumably, we know Carl is the one speaking here because of the order of dialogue. I included the question mark because Carl is the one talking, not the cards. The cards "thwacking" into order is the action Carl is performing, but it also implies that Carl is reasoning things out himself, without writing as much.

I hope I wasn't too obtuse with all this.

I would argue against using the "Show, don't tell" too much. It is useful in some cases, but not so in others. Use it with moderation.

Though I suppose it might be a personal preference, I usually detest the "Show, don't tell" approach. It makes things more confusing and less palpable. You might argue that it is more engaging to the reader, as he has to figure out things for himself, but this may lead to a situation where the reader simply does not understand what is trying to be communicated. But then, if you assume the reader doesn't understand anything, other problems arise. So, moderation.

I don't quite get this. I mean, I personally think that Fang's version looses some characterization and the prose isn't as fun to read, but he's right in that normally just having some dude say what's happening isn't as exciting as something happening.

Keep in mind that my examples kind of suck because I came up with them on the spot.

Good point. "Show, don't tell" leads more towards the poetic side of things, as people do have to figure out just what you're saying when they're reading it. Sometimes you can make it simple, and they'll get it. Sometimes it'll require a certain piece of knowledge the reader might not have. And sometimes it may just not have meaning at all, and will be left up to reader interpretation.

But it can quite easily make the point more obtuse. Which is why nobodys' given two shits about poetry except the music world for a while now (and their poetry is relatively easy to interpret).

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>So yeah. I am trying to get better at sexual tension and working it naturally into a story. I'd love some feedback.

This is my definition of good Romantic tension.

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That is definitely a man about to rape a nun.

but she is totally asking for it for dressing like that.

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So what do you guys consider the line between "Aggressive tension" and "lolrape"? What are common red flags for the average reader?

Also, trying script writing.
Monday, The Bus Stop

Open to a crisp fall day; Hank is at the bus stop, enjoying a rare, peaceful moment in his life. The scene is almost bucolic, until Jenny shivers by, rubbing her arms for heat and glaring at anything so uncouth as not to be as miserable as her.

Jenny: Shut up.

Hank: Didn't say a word.

Jenny: Your face speaks volumes.

Hank just smiles(a touch smugly) as the bus approaches; karma makes an early payback as Hank's mother, one Natalie Dubois, a small, lively woman, runs out to the stop. Hank is shocked, Jenny is some odd combination of uncomfortable and amused.

Natalie: Henry!

Hank: M-mom!

Jenny: Um, hi, Mrs. Dubois...

Natalie: Hello Jennifer. Henry, you forgot your lunch again -!

Hank: Mama, I told you I just made my own...

Hank holds out a modest but neat brown paper bag.

Natalie: Oh no. Your mother is making your lunch young man!

She stuffs a considerably sloppier bag into Hank's hands

Hank: Uh...thanks...

Jenny: Your mom makes hot pockets?

Natalie: I supervised. -you will WAIT for me to say goodbye to my son properly. Sakes...

The bus driver, normally as easy to deter as an active volcano, is shut up by the ferocity of the glare from Mrs. Dubois.

Hank: Mama, we've got to...

Hank is quickly silenced by a Look from his mother, who may be trying to teach him a lesson about being a doormat. He appeases her with a reserved but sincere kiss on the cheek.

Hank: Love you, mama.

Cut to the bus door closing, and Hank choosing not to look at Jenny directly.

Hank: Shut up.

Jenny: Didn't say a word.

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That was Romantic Tension, this is Rape.

The difference is in the reaction, Hotpants and Johnny in the earlier pages were both clearly interested in each other, but were unable to break the built up tension because they have goal.

THIS is Rape, Lucy Steel clearly resisting and struggling while President Valentine forces himself on her.

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It's not that difficult. Replace "enjoys it mentally" with "wants it" for more accuracy.

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Yeah, I was just trying to get the thread back on topic smoothly.

Let's try something else. Sonic! Specifically, a Metal Sonic equivalent for Amy. I was thinking, "Rubber Amy" because most mallets are made of industrial rubber, if I recall correctly. That sound cool? I vaguely remember something about "rubberizing" being a fetish but, fuck, what isn't.

Also, I dig the idea of Cream being Amy's sidekick, ala Sonic and Tails. The two have an interesting personality mesh, and the idea of little Cream floating around with her ears and a big clipboard, gently reminding Amy that she has an appointment to beat the crap out of <villain goes here> in fifteen minutes is kind of awesome. Am I high?

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>"Rubber Amy"
>The images that come to mind.

I'm not saying to not go with it, but yea... leaves a lot to the imagination.

>rubber amy

Thanks, I appreciate the honesty.

...saaay, that's not bad.

Go on a cybersex binge

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>this thread

op is appalling. i hope your hands necrotise and fall off

May I ask why?


Beard. Whenever Senor opens his mouth it's best to just smile politely, nod and treat it like you're being bad-mouthed by a 5 year old.


This is Bob of Bob's fault.

Roberta Gulliman's Day Off

Tappity tappity, tappity tap. Delicate fingers danced across the keyboard, text pouring onto the screen; Roberta Gulliman pursed her lips pale lips(Colorful lipstick was vanity at best, and a waste of money at worst.) as she considered her concluding argument. No, it wasn't right. There was some merit to comparing the Nixon presidential campaign to the unification wars of Bronze Age China, but the specifics were eluding her, and she was supposed to be finished an hour ago. A whole hour. She hadn't fallen an hour off schedule since she was eight; an organized, scientific way of attacking your day was the way to get the most out of life, after all. Still, its not as though she'd be missed, Roberta reflected, staring up at the ceiling so as to ignore the slight pang that caused. After all, it wasn't true! Father might be gone all week at those peace talks with Commander Farsight, but, well, who else would take the notes at the Student Government meeting? Except for Faith, or maybe Miranda if they could get her to come in, or maybe, Roberta's studious features melted into a shy smile at the thought, Isis could get off of her perfect ass and actually...

"Bobbi!" The boisterous voice of Regina Dorn echoed up from the downstairs hall, knocking Roberta out of her distressingly unmutual thought pattern. Father would not approve. Roberta listened to her cousin tromping up their stairs, stomp stomp stomp stomp whoosh bang! Just like always, Roberta reflected, and just like always she would never even entertain the possibility that the accident was her fault...

"You've got to fix that middle step!" Regina enthused(Roberta mimed the old saw to herself, but did not have the courage to say it alloud.), "Bitch is a killer. Come here, genius, I'm desperate for..." Regina, much like her father, was anything but stupid. Her mind was, however, best compared to a freight train; it tended to move very decisively in one direction and it made a lot of noise trying to turn around. All this ment was that she was halfway through the traditional mid-morning noogie before noticing the impossible right in front of her face. "...Bobbi, are you still in your pajamas?"

"I suppose so." Roberta managed, looking down at the prim blue and gold outfit she slept in. "I must have lost track of time. Why don't you go to school without me? I would not want you to suffer for my mistakes."

Honestly worried-the girl didn't even yell at her!-Regina put the back of her hand against Roberta's forehead while checking her pulse with the other. She had been there the one time Roberta had fallen this far off schedule; it was her fault and the younger girl had yet to entierly forgive Regina for the slight. "...honey, I'm not the most sensitive gal in the grim future, but did you really think I wasn't going to notice this?" Irritated at Gulliman's lack of response, Regina grabbed the sides of her best friend's face, forcing eye contact. "...oh honey..."

Tears were silently flowing down Roberta's unflinching face. "I can't finish my paper."

It took some doing, ("You really shouldn't spoil your academic record over this..." "SHUT UP I AM MAKING YOU BREAKFAST BITCH.") but Regina had finally coaxed Roberta downstairs. Alone for a moment except for the coffee maker, the younger Dorn indulged in a sigh. Her friend had always been a bit...structured in her thinking, but a total breakdown over a tricky paper seemed much more like a problem Victoria or that great cow Petra would have. Roberta was always so...tame. Reserved. Dependable.

"Oh." Regina slapped her forehead in realization. Of course the daughter of a man who pre-planned 23 hours of his day would have trouble figuring out how to let off a little steam. "Well, let not be said that REGINA DORN backed down from a challange! Hoo ah!"

Kicking her way out of the kitchen, promised breakfast totally forgotten, Regina collapsed into a chair next to Roberta(Whom, having anticipated Regina forgetting, was nibbling on a piece of toast.), throwing her arm around her friend and relishing the younger girl's discomfort at the physical affection. "Bobbi, I had an idea so crazy, it just might work. Wanna hear?"

"Not particularly. I should really get to canceling those college admissions and start working on my resume for the Shoot-and-Fry..." Roberta did not struggle against Regina's grip, however.

"Good." Regina plowed past petty annoyances like 'consent' or 'zoning laws', just like daddy taught her. "So here's my thought. You've gotten so pent up, that you've actually made yourself sick. Rather than call your best friend and ask for help, your crazy head has decided that sitting in your pajamas and glaring at a cogitator monitor for a week is the best way to deal with this." There was a little real hurt in there, so Regina gave Roberta a squeeze to show that there were no hard feelings. "All this adds up to one thing:"

"Its only one thing." Roberta noticed, "What are you adding it up with?"

"ONE THING!" Regina insisted, as though Roberta had not spoken. "We, my friend, are cutting school. You are going to have the best day of your life, or die trying!"

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