#Emerald Expositions

[physalian]

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3

Crazy how one impulsive post has quickly outshined every other post I have made on this blog. Anyway here’s more to consider. Once again, I am recirculating tried-and-true writing advice that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice and isn’t always applicable when the narrative demands otherwise.

Part 1

Part 2

1. Eliminating to-be verbs (passive voice)

Am/is/are/was/were are another type of filler that doesn’t add anything to your sentences.

There were fireworks in the sky tonight. /// Fireworks glittered in the sky tonight.

My cat was chirping at the lights on the ceiling. /// My cat chirped at the lights on the ceiling.

She was standing /// She stood

He was running /// He ran

Also applicable in present tense, of which I’ve been stuck writing lately.

There are two fish-net goals on either end of the improvised field. /// Two fish-net goals mark either end of the improvised field.

For once, it’s a cloudless night. /// For once, the stars shine clear.

Sometimes the sentence needs a little finagling to remove the bad verb and sometimes you can let a couple remain if it sounds better with the cadence or syntax. Generally, they’re not necessary and you won’t realize how strange it looks until you go back and delete them (it also helps shave off your word count).

Sometimes the to-be verb is necessary. You're writing in past-tense and must convey that.

He was running out of time does not have the same meaning as He ran out of time, and are not interchangeable. You'd have to change the entire sentence to something probably a lot wordier to escape the 'was'. To-be verbs are not the end of the world.

2. Putting character descriptors in the wrong place

I made a post already about motivated exposition, specifically about character descriptions and the mirror trope, saying character details in the wrong place can look odd and screw with the flow of the paragraph, especially if you throw in too many.

She ties her long, curly, brown tresses up in a messy bun. /// She ties her curls up in a messy brown bun. (bonus alliteration too)

Generally, I see this most often with hair, a terrible rule of threes. Eyes less so, but eyes have their own issue. Eye color gets repeated at an exhausting frequency. Whatever you have in your manuscript, you could probably delete 30-40% of the reminders that the love interest has baby blues and readers would be happy, especially if you use the same metaphor over and over again, like gemstones.

He rolled his bright, emerald eyes. /// He rolled his eyes, a vibrant green in the lamplight.

To me, one reads like you want to get the character description out as fast as possible, so the hand of the author comes in to wave and stop the story to give you the details. Fixing it, my way or another way, stands out less as exposition, which is what character descriptions boil down to—something the audience needs to know to appreciate and/or understand the story.

3. Lacking flow between sentences

Much like sentences that are all about the same length with little variety in syntax, sentences that follow each other like a grocery list or instruction manual instead of a proper narrative are difficult to find gripping.

Jack gets out a stock pot from the cupboard. He fills it with the tap and sets it on the stove. Then, he grabs russet potatoes and butter from the fridge. He leaves the butter out to soften, and sets the pot to boil. He then adds salt to the water.

From the cupboard, Jack drags a hefty stockpot. He fills it with the tap, adds salt to taste, and sets it on the stove.

Russet potatoes or yukon gold? Jack drums his fingers on the fridge door in thought. Russet—that’s what the recipe calls for. He tosses the bag on the counter and the butter beside it to soften.

This is just one version of a possible edit to the first paragraph, not the end-all, be-all perfect reconstruction. It’s not just about having transitions, like ‘then’, it’s about how one sentence flows into the next, and you can accomplish better flow in many different ways.

4. Getting too specific with movement.

I don’t see this super often, but when it happens, it tends to be pretty bad. I think it happens because writers feel the need to overcompensate and over-clarify on what’s happening. Remember: The more specific you get, the more your readers are going to wonder what’s so important about these details. This is fiction, so every detail matters.

A ridiculous example:

Jack walks over to his closet. He kneels down at the shoe rack and tugs his running shoes free. He walks back to his desk chair, sits down, and ties the laces.

Unless tying his shoes is a monumental achievement for this character, all readers would need is:

Jack shoves on his running shoes.

*quick note: Do not add "down" after the following: Kneels, stoops, crouches, squats. The "down" is already implied in the verb.

This also happens with multiple movements in succession.

Beth enters the room and steps on her shoelace, nearly causing her to trip. She kneels and ties her shoes. She stands upright and keeps moving.

Or

Beth walks in and nearly trips over her shoelace. She sighs, reties it, and keeps moving.

Even then, unless Beth is a chronically clumsy character or this near-trip is a side effect of her being late or tired (i.e. meaningful), tripping over a shoelace is kind of boring if it does nothing for her character. Miles Morales’ untied shoelaces are thematically part of his story.

Sometimes, over-describing a character’s movement is meant to show how nervous they are—overthinking everything they’re doing, second-guessing themselves ad nauseam. Or they’re autistic coded and this is how this character normally thinks as deeply methodical. Or, you’re trying to emphasize some mundanity about their life and doing it on purpose.

If you’re not writing something where the extra details service the character or the story at large, consider trimming it.

—

These are *suggestions* and writing is highly subjective. Hope this helps!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Guide: 3-Act Structure

ACT I

EXPOSITION

Establish your protagonist, their everyday life, and their "desire"

Sample Synopsis: Young Dorothy Gale lives in rural Kansas and dreams of something more.

Your Synopsis:

INCITING INCIDENT

An event forces a change in your character, setting their adventure in motion.

Sample Synopsis: A tornado whisks Dorothy away to the magical land of Oz, ripping her from the comfort of her everyday existence.

Your Synopsis:

PLOT POINT 1

Your protagonist crosses the point of no return.

Sample Synopsis: Realising that her only way back is by finding the Great and Powerful Oz in the Emerald City, Dorothy sets off down the Yellow Brick Road.

Your Synopsis:

— 25% through your story —

ACT II

RISING ACTION

The protagonist encounters roadblocks on the way to achieving their goal.

Sample Synopsis: Dorothy befriends the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodsman, and the Cowardly Lion. Together they encounter minor obstacles (e.g., apple-throwing trees).

Your Synopsis:

MIDPOINT

The hero faces their biggest challenge, which threatens to completely derail their mission.

Sample Synopsis: Dorothy discovers that the Wizard is a charlatan.

Your Synopsis:

PLOT POINT 2

The protagonist — who has so far been reactive — makes a choice to become proactive.

Sample Synopsis: So that she may have a chance to go home, Dorothy and her friends decide to take on the Wicked Witch by themselves.

Your Synopsis:

— 75% through your story —

ACT III

PRE-CLIMAX

As the protagonist faces their final challenge, it would seem that all is lost.

Sample Synopsis: On the way to the castle, Dorothy is captured by the witch who reveals her plans to kill Dorothy.

Your Synopsis:

CLIMAX

The protagonist manages to overcome whatever is holding them back. They triumph over the antagonist.

Sample Synopsis: Dorothy defeats the wicked witch!

Your Synopsis:

DENOUEMENT

Our hero returns to their previous life, having changed. Loose ends are tied up and tension is released.

Sample Synopsis: Dorothy waves goodbye to her new friends and returns to Kansas, grateful for the life she has there.

Your Synopsis:

Note:

Use this outline to define all 9 of your story's major plot points.

You can then use the 'Scene-by-Scene' guide below to plot out your entire story.

As you write, revise, and edit, return to this guide and update the structure to reflect your latest draft.

Scene-by-Scene Guide: 3-Act Structure

Scene Number (1, 2...):

Act (I, II, III):

Plot Point (Exposition, Inciting Incident...):

Location:

Date/Time:

Characters in Scene:

Synopsis (What action takes place in the scene?):

Changes (How are the characters or situation now different?):

Note: Not every scene features one of the major plot points.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Worksheets & Templates Writing References: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding

[matt0044]

What we can learn from “The Jaune Arc Discourse” (TM).

Well, to start with, people are really resistant to being corrected on lies at worst or overstatements at best.

Like if nothing else, the Does RWBY Like Women poll was illuminating in how it showed me that a veeeeeery weird myth about Jaune Arc has persisted beyond its true relevancy.

Volume 1 of RWBY features Jaune Arc in the spotlight for… what? Four episodes? The minutes of each adding up to roughly twenty minutes, the length of an average TV episode?

While he was featured in the previous storyline where we are given an eight episode arc introducing us to our eight main protagonists, he was a lot more… ancillary as comic relief. A discount Lavernius Tucker with Felix’s voice if you will.

He's Vomit Boy in episode one. Episode two has him introduced more formally as somebody who helps up Ruby after a bad first impression on Weiss. He later appears more prominently pining over Weiss and catching Pyrrha's attention before falling to bracing himself in being catapulted into the Emerald Forest.

He's bailed out by Pyrrha and it's set up that he's in over his head by not knowing what Aura is or at least wanting to know how it works. An exposition sponge as I heard on fan call it. I could go on but the point is that all signs pointed to a Butt Monkey Ron Stoppable sort who was likely there for cheap laughs.

Amusing enough but I worried if that's all he'd be personally. Lord knows that some movies give the Comic Relief character too much comic relief and, well, not enough character. But after Ruby and Weiss have their leader/lance headbutting, the four episodes that followed reassured me that there'd be more to Jaune than meets the eyes.

But to circle back to the main thesis, it's actually fascinating that the myth of Jaune hijacking the narrative for himself is this pervasive when the offending story in question... is very much a self-contained character piece. It's way less about the wider story involving Ozpin, Roman Torchwick (at the time) and the White Fang.

It has relevance in how Pyrrha starts mentoring Jaune after he deals with Cardin and gets over himself (for now) which trickles down into future stories. Even then, the next story arc right back with Team RWBY with nary a sign of the everyman in question. A story arc that does deal with elements of the main plot, leading directly into Volume 2.

And in Volume 2, Jaune trying to woo Weiss and being ignorant to Pyyrha's advancements was just a subplot scattered in the first half of the story. It very much piggybacks off of Team RWBY's whole deal.

Volume 3 has what I consider to be a reversal of what's been known as Trinity Syndrome.

Namely the sort where a male character goes off the square off with the main villain mano-e-mano after shoving the female character/his love interest away so she won't get hurt. An egrigious example being when the love interest CAN FIGHT and back him up.

However, Pyyrha instead shoves Jaune out of the way after kissing him and goes off to face Cinder in a very fatal battle. It was honestly a brilliant (as much as the term may be disliked these days) subversion of the cliche.

And it’s Ruby who sees her death and gets the trauma induced power up. Jaune only has a scene of angst before that and was the one to call Ruby to have her try and back up the one he just realized he loved.

Jaune from that point on is an Everyman Protagonist who is forced to remember that he’s not THE protagonist. Yet the myth persistently proclaims that he hijacks the narrative from the titular Team RWBY despite only four episodes being wholly dedicated to him and his head space.

How did we get here?

Well… there’s the fact that not everyone finished Volume 1 and that not everybody, well, watched RWBY. And that would be fine on its own. You gave it a shot and it wasn’t your cuppa joe. You saw the trailer but clicked on something else.

I get it. That’s fine. Contrary to popular belief, nobody in the FNDM will really fault you for it. Less fine is when you spread faulty readings of RWBY and from those heavily biased against it no less.

It cannot be emphasized enough that tearing into RWBY is a cottage industry on YouTube. Hbomberguy might have the biggest platform but you’ll find multiple channels with lengthy series on “RWBY bad, here why.” And they are actually amongst the FNDM. They know how the YT Algorithm game is played, how it rewards engagement above all else. And sadly, negativity and rage pay more bills.

It’s why there are few positive videos or at least few that are pushed into the recommendations. Many often borrow the same points from each other born from the V1 days, namely that Jaune is allegedly given favoritism by the writers while we somehow “don’t know who the main girls are.”

From four episodes.

I also think it’s also to do with how it’s not that he actually did steal screentime… so much as many anticipated he would. A lot of shows and movies I grew up with would have strong female characters but any potential they had was hindered by the male lead and his hero’s journey. See the above Trinity Syndrome I referenced.

But Jaune didn’t do that. Even when he was central to an event like his semblance being awakened, it’s a healing/power boost that he gives to others. Weiss getting skewered might’ve brought it out but it lead to her getting back into the fray while he was largely to the sides.

Seems more like he shares screentime if anything.

People cling to these myths despite legit fans actually pointing out, “Hey, that’s not true actually and here’s why,” because that hate being told they are wrong more than being wrong. And because there are many around these who reinforce this “truth,” they feel content with it. No need to challenge it when it “feels” right.

So Jaune Arc stole screentime. Because that’s what “everyone else” is saying. By you need to question popular opinions. You need to realize that sometimes… a fan community is based on lies.

”Trust me, bro” is not the gotcha you think it is.

[secondary-colorentimy]

Love the implication that Lilia is either giving exposition about the Chaos Emeralds or is giving one to Sonic, judging by the body language.

thats cause he is straight up just giving him one :P

[joannasteez]

with me, the world is yours

pairing: roman reigns x black reader authors note: i wrote all of this late summer/early fall and after breaking away from it for so long, i've kind of lost the drive to finish the story in the original way i'd intended to write it, BUT, i am willing to add to it in small ways with little drabbles and such. so whoever reads this, please consider it as background/exposition and or a prologue to whatever gets added to it. if anyone wants to see something added to this specific story please drop me scenarios in my inbox!! word count: 8k

he liked to walk the floor

carpet smooth beneath the expensive drop of his heel and toe. hubris a limitless force, the broad width of his chest swelling. pride, unsullied, raw and ever simple in its existence. it was a deep elegant staining streak along his being that refused to leave him, unless of course he willed it so. and the casino floor of The Summer Isle Hotel, his hotel, filled with this great thundering of rage and joy and desperation. tiny drops of poker chips like small striking claps. the flipping of cards giving that easy slipping swoop against padded black jack tables. the hum of the room was loud, because the room itself seemed, to his eye, to never end. a tenacious buzzing that simmered his blood quick, excited. 

the night was young. restless. ruby red suede heels moving, clever and seductive. the color of champagne at every corner his eyes took him, bubbling rich in flutes and set in the sweet form of silk dresses. pearls sitting tempting over cleavages and diamonds dressing the sturdiness of fingers that roamed the figures of excitable women. emeralds, jades and sapphires, taking every shape against the skin that would have it. 

earrings, anklets, rings, bracelets......

whiskey and brandy swishing in glasses......

dry champagne hitting the tongue just right......

bodies hugging, lips kissing, eyes glazed over and just so damn greedy......

this...this ceaseless atmosphere. the un-quelled need to have. to take hold. to win. 

roman loved to walk the casino floor of his hotel. 

but he hated, absolutely hated cheaters. fucking thieves, cunning-less and eager. their tact lacking just as much as their ambition. roman figured, if their schemes were anymore complex, then he'd feel somehow better about their stealing. he'd at least respect their finesse before using their heads to shove them out the entryway doors of the establishment. and what a fine establishment it was, built off the sweat of his brow, his, others, blood and many tears. owning a hotel on the vegas strip was no easy feat and he'd be damned if someone disrespected it. disrespected his work. his vision. 

...so then why?...

your eyes flit over to a table just some feet away. 

...why did he let you play your games?...

a man in muted clothes gives you a signal. many silent signals, ones roman was once oblivious to, but now overly familiar with, as if he created them himself. 

...four seconds of a stare. one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four. four meaning spade, given they were following the alphabetical order of the suits. 

the man, face more punchable by the minute, touches his nose. meaning, the spade is a face card. 

and the fucking dealer is young, flips up his card too easily, exposing just before he deals.

roman wants to do many things. to the man, the dealer, and the other pairs around the other blackjack tables following the same system. his fingers curl, ball inward till his palm pains him but his eyes remain as they always did. fiercely void, teetering delicate on some fine line of violence, until you move. speak. 

"blackjack", you call. with just enough disinterest that prides the flow of his blood. makes him smirk.

"they've all been at it for days", paul bristles. 

"end it", roman calls, walking away. 

---

you despised most men, despised their presence, looking at them, unnecessarily speaking to them, breathing the same air as them. they'd bred more trouble than they were ever worth and always, without fail, served up to you, on some disgusting dish, half baked and ill formed, the least discreet of charms, to win even slivers of your attention. it was the usual lousy song and dance, artless and heavy handed. you despised most of them, because they led you to places like these with promises too alluring to ignore. all you wanted, want still, is the money. its all you need. 

and they'd all but manhandled you from the casino floor to a room. two men, one barely distinguishable from the other, but then again...they donned shades that matched their disapproving looks. lips turned in scrutiny. but what the fuck did they know anyway?... fuck them and this...this room. a holding of some sort. walls white, chairs black, a purposeful minimalistic touch crafted to intimidate. and it was working...even if just slightly. 

your chair creaks, wooden and anxious. you hated this, always would. this forceful feel of surrendering. 

and you don't speak first, but because of that neither does he. 

grey's scattered about his beard, scarce but still there. slight face lines...stress maybe?...and tawny specks living as freckles. he's groomed to perfection but still there's something about him, a flare in his eye that lends itself to a buried ruggedness. a meticulous sort of brutality. 

and he's just sitting there... 

...close to you but not too close. enough to open you with his eyes, but not enough to leave you breathless...

he's practiced in this. patient. 

...he can't do this all day... you think, till his body sits more comfortable than before. he will if he has to, and he will. to prove a point. to win. 

the room is cold. sterile. you shiver some, the first to say anything. 

"i didn't do anything wrong". 

"then why so defensive?"

you felt some ways away from lethal and the reasons for such a feeling mounting more every second. forming knots in your belly, heat and pressure. guilt and a sickly intrigue. his voice was rich and deep. smooth and commanding. if in another place, at some other time, you could see yourself falling for that voice, lulled and taken by it. you hate it, the hot twinge it drives into your skin. you grow sharp, words throwing like daggers. 

"if you were me, sitting where i am, you'd be defensive too". 

"i could have you brought up on charges", he presses. toying really. flip and flopping between seriousness and sarcasm. the heels of his shoes click the floors, and you fall slow into the creak of the chair, pulling away from the size of him as he approaches. he bends, levels with you, but even this feels like a looking down upon. "cheating and swindling. maybe even restitution". 

"what?" you start. you cant help your self. "not nice enough for a little jail time". 

you see his jaw shift. "smart mouth". 

you move in with a sudden spell of boldness. "fuck you". your lips twist to spit against the floor. "and fuck your casino". 

it's quick. harsh. his fingers long and curling at your jaw. he's warm, grip steady despite the push of your hands. he feels the fight in you, regardless of how soft you are to the touch. skin tender, like untouched feathers. 

but still... that damn mouth of yours. 

"you tried remember", mirthless but not. 

"don't fucking touch me", you rant. hitting at him harder. attempting without end to pry away his fingers, until finally he lets go. 

and it's rather shortsighted but brave nonetheless, the way your feet carry you to go at him. to do what exactly? you're not to entirely sure. but it doesn't matter much anyways, not when he's this mountain of a man. herculean and spiting. resolute in fucking with you a little for whatever enjoyment he can get out of the situation, and you know this to be true when your momentum to him is soured, a scream bleeding coarse through the walls. 

the dense walls block most of the action, but the scream of pain is undeniable. the faint crush of bone breaking through to where you are, fixing you to the floor where you stand in some sickly mixture of fear and surprise. 

"the money or their fingers i asked them". his stare is heavy. daunting. "some of them chose money, but of course they get to keep neither". he walks to the single entry-exit door. body taking up most of the frame. "paul, escort the young lady back to her room". 

you scoff on instinct. hating the condescension his tone takes. you shift by them both in a way that knocks your shoulders into their arms. paul's chalky, round face as amused as his boss. 

"i can escort myself". 

---

amongst the other's lining the vegas strip, The Summer Isle Hotel is the second largest. and where the floors lack that bold blood red carpeting, there is laid instead a fine marbling, in the endless halls and walkways, polished enough to see even the faintest of facial details. the ceilings venture high, littered with crystal chandeliers and in the walls and on ceilings are engraved these renaissance inspired paintings. there is this rhythm to the place, something archaic and forever far away, that is meant to always be desired. as people sip champagne, drunk and more verbose by the second, bleeding their pockets dry to their hearts content, the artistry of the hotel leaves them wondered and greedy. that even as they eat the finest food and drink the oldest wines, there is more to indulge in. more to have, to reach that unreachable place of pure luxury.

it was extravagant and all consuming, and pieces of you wondered what it all felt like. to never want or lack for it, because it was just simply there, at the edge of your fingertips. 

the hotel was big enough to get lost in, big enough to lose others in, so when paul sits himself at your table for two, security detailing not too far, just at the edges of the bar, you grow weary and annoyed. he'd been looking for you. 

you swirl your drink with a cocktail straw. feeling the pressure of his stare. "im being babysat now?" 

his hands fold with an instinctive diplomacy. 

"just call it reassurance". 

reassurance...that was bullshit. you didn't need to be told things more than once, especially when the talk was as loud and showy as it was earlier. "he made it pretty clear what can happen. i'm a cheater, not stupid". 

"there isn't always much of a difference between the two".

you hum, sipping what's left of your drink. "if you're gonna chat me up, buy me another drink then". his brow raises, as if in waiting. you sigh, annoyed at having to perform niceties. "please". 

its expert and concise, a look and just under a handful of gestures to the bartender, but his awareness never wavers from the already empty cocktail glasses where vodka-cran once filled. three to be exact. this fourth, he hopes, would be your last, as it was now that the glazing over of your eyes was coming underway. and he'd originally been an advocate for roman's earlier display of brutish prowess, and still is in all honesty, but seeing you, it did unsettle him in very few but poignant ways. he knew enough to know that you were attempting a drowning of frenzied nerve. sitting here, he hopes you understand, like everything else on the strip... its just business. 

paul shifts. bringing his chair slightly closer. "the system you use on the blackjack tables, how long did it take to come up with it?" 

"not long, maybe a few minutes", you start. sipping and thinking on whether to indulge him or not. but it seems to you now that the whole trip has gone to complete shit so why not. "it's all about assigning basic signals to cards but it's the memory part that fucks people up. memory and performance anxiety". paul chuckles at the absurdity and you grin, slightly pleased at his interest. "practicing in a warehouse versus being on a casino floor, at a table. it's different. anything can happen". 

you push away the drink. satisfied. paul's eyes turn soft, with what you think is relief. why relief?

"and then theres the whole finding a weak dealer situation", you continue. "no offense, you guys have a better looking hotel but the venetian runs tight security". 

"noted". 

its your turn to shift in your chair. asking the question you've been wanting the answer to since the moment happened. "why didn't he break my fingers?" 

"who knows. maybe he's waiting for you to get stupid", paul jokes. 

"you either are or you aren't. no in between". 

"that means you'll stay put then?" 

you scoff. "what, i'm on lockdown?"

"the boss says you're free to do as you please. just no stealing".

you smile coy, standing to leave. "you wouldn't mind covering the tab then? can't seem to find my wallet". 

---

thief. cheater. schemer. you've heard many names and resented none of them, because at their root, the truth remained what it was. it was artistry. and if you're clever enough, sharp enough, quick enough, finessing could be masterful. the constant putting together of a challenge, a game. and it was practical to love games, because good players win. 

but this? this was not practical. he was not practical. 

he seemed to be playing a different game entirely. you figure solely to spite you. a figurative spitting in the face if you will. 

every waiter of every bar in every corner of the hotel knew your cocktail order. vodka-cran with lime, extra ice. a splash of club soda. 

the security detail seemingly doubled overnight and each of them never failed to greet you. a smile and a head tipping nod. 

casino floor personnel, always with a subtle but sudden direction, pointed out to you the slots that paid out the biggest and the most often. 

the restaurants you dined in refused to give you the check and when you asked why, flustered and confused, they gave the same answer every time. 

"because the boss said so". 

complementary goods in your hotel room. aged wines and sweets. 

tickets to shows you neither wanted to attend or cared for.

if you were a different woman, who lived a different life, you figure she'd find this every bit as enticing as it was. enchanting even. grand gestures made out of some sickly sweet distant admiration. but you were not her and most men you knew or had known only did things; provided, loved, cared, with condition. so only one questioned remained. why? and after days of guessing games, a stomach turning foreboding shifted swiftly to irritation. he'd upped the ante finally, moving from these fairly small gestures, which to you were not small at all, to something a little bit too much for you to take. 

and you wonder now if he knows that he's reached your end, knocking hard at the ceiling of your limits. body simmering hot with this slow to finish unraveling feeling. as if at any moment unknown to you, you'll break in some uncontrolled fit of rage. he was becoming more persistent, silent still but more persistent and the affects of such persistence were all around you. soft wool carpeting where marble floors ended, a detailed fretwork spanning every corner of the ceilings, and french sliding doors connecting you to a wide stretched pool looking over the vegas strip. 

"the boss sends his regards", housekeeping said after it was all said and done. 

from the 6th floor straight up to the 39th, he'd gotten them to move everything you'd bought with you. your clothes, shoes, purses, from a studio room you could just barely pay for, to the penthouse suite. 

all of this, and a tiny note atop the dresser. 

enjoy your stay - roman

"roman", you try aloud. 

it isn't till the next day that you realize he's quite fond of leaving these little letters. words thin and cursive. messages brief enough to never reveal even a semblance of his thoughts. 

friday morning his words scribble a small card stuck to the center of a bouquet of white roses. 

white desdemona's. enjoy the roses - roman

you struggle for sometime in the bright silence of the morning. the busyness of the vegas strip bleeding a hum in through the sliding french doors. it wouldn't be hard, indulging him. cling fast and easy to soft petaled gestures, quelling finally that wayward need for a romantic sort of fascination. buried so long ago but clawing upwards tirelessly still, begging for relief. but it would be more sensible to deny yourself, which in the same breath meant denying him. tearing that pristine white card in two and setting the roses out to sit just in front your suite door. to send a message, simple but strong, enough for him to understand. 

a sudden knock urges you to settle into a resolution quickly. quicker than you were prepared for. the white card now in your hand tearing into two pieces with a twist of your wrist as you go to open the door. 

its house keeping. 

you place the torn paper in their hand before stepping out of the suite, furthering more down the hallway to the elevator by the second. the roses themselves were too lovely to get rid of anyways. 

"tell your boss i send my regards". 

---

would you believe them?

a less than modest woman from the north east, standing above the illustrious wonder of the vegas strip. and from your glass flute a slow, smooth sip, along with some restless awakening of a dream, even if it last only for a moment. an imagining from this high place, that with a deep sure breath like some figure from beyond with a vast primordial power, you gave life to this idle desert, and with sun and sand, birthed from pure will what they call fabulous las vegas. but this must be what he feels, day after day, night after night, standing above the rest, the staunch rush of pride, like something simmered well into the run of his blood. for you it was this endless day dream, the money, the power, the access, but for him, it seemed real. it was real. 

and still the question remains... would you believe them? a cunning woman, wrapped strapless in leather fine enough to please even the most marred skin, and heels that extend the vicious form of your legs. 

just tuesday you were cursing the good name and fortune of this place with your dna splat just mere inches from his shoes, and now here you are friday, waiting for him. 

if they, whoever they are, told you sometime ago that you'd be here, you wouldn't have believed them. 

he'd done well to send another card, and with it, another gift. 

the rendezvous. 7pm - roman

he'd gotten house keeping to do more of his dirty work, the poor bastards, but even their precision was daunting. the placement of the card, and the gift, and the complementary wine, and a single blooming stargazer. the petals dainty and blushing. it'd left you standing deep in a well of emotion, finding everything he'd left, and your bed taken by a box. the lid pulled off quickly by that gnawing urge to indulge him. and despite his initial brutish behavior and persistence, it was safe to say that the man was not void of taste. 

but it would be more sensible to deny yourself,  like a chant, it'd echoed, and your fingers ran over the plains of something silky. a dress, cool raven color, strong and subduing, but the fabric was so fine to the touch it'd felt criminal to hold. and with it had lived perfumes, bottle after bottle, as if he feared you'd somehow go without. and... fuck... sitting, waiting really, in a satin pouch... two pairs of goddamned diamond earrings. one pair smaller than the other, but both far more delicate than most things you'd ever owned. and soon the short warm swell of excitement had grown cold and hesitating. why was he doing this? what did he want from you? 

they were questions you intended to get answers to and it seemed if they weren't answered now then who knows when, unsure if you'd ever see him again. 

"you didn't like the roses"

your heart takes to some quick instinctual beating. a ragged fraying of nerves just off the simple sooth and strength of his voice. before, in that silent white room, you were sharp, aware of him but the power of his aura did nothing to sway your wanting to see him pained by your indifference to him. now though... it was so damn different now it seemed, as you were a small ways away from a purely formed nervousness. 

you turn just enough to give him your profile, sipping slow at the flute, steeling one buzz under your skin away with another. "i'd like them more if they were red". you face him finally, staying leant up against the balcony railing of the restaurant. "but it seems i don't have much option or choice here". 

"no need to choose when everything is the best". 

"that doesn't sound self important at all". 

"doesn't make it any less true". 

champagne has never tasted so good, you think, sipping and fighting the impulse to look away from him. his eyes softer than before but still lying in them are traces of searching for some unspoken truth. it was a much more subdued attempt compared to before, every pass his eyes made about your own, short flickers to your lips, the way you clutched the glass, your hair, your jewelry, the dress you were wearing, like a gentle pealing back of a layer. less scrutiny out of a short bout of anger and more of a learning. he'd come to the conclusion after watching you leave the white room all those days ago that he wanted to learn you. 

here now, watching you sip champagne, he wondered if you'd let him. 

"listen", you start. taking a closer step to him, with some new found form of resolution, and its hard to keep this will strong and steeled away when he's this close. scent heady and soothing to your senses. "i don't know what you're thinking, but i do know that you got me a lot of fucked up for just hauling my shit-"

"the suite is yours for as long as you want it" 

"i'm not paying for it"

his grin is warm. inviting. long fingers slipping the flute from your hold after its been emptied to set it down at a nearby table. "it's yours anyways". 

your confusion is palpable, lives in the way you retreat closer to the banister again, for fresher air void of him. in hopes to think more clearly. "just the other day you practically had me hemmed up and now you're-"

"that was different. it was business". 

you scoff. "business my ass, fuck you-"

"and fuck my casino, i know". 

it's your go to insult it seems, this time having less of an affect on him, but still there is something there. a small stinging pain bruising the very large stain of ego. 

you look to him with searching eyes of your own. "so the wine... and-and the roses and just... everything, i mean thats?..."

"gifts. just gifts. not to be payed back ever". 

your face fixes in a fashion similar to the first time you spoke to him. eyes defensive and unsure, brows pulling in for a full measure of scrutiny. "why?"

"have dinner with me". 

you press again. "why?" 

"because", he starts, with a streak of vulnerability. "all of my attention is taken up by a casino resort on the strip of one of the busiest places in the world but for some reason, for the last 72 hours or so i've only been able to think clearly about you".

your eyes roll off instinct despite the flutter feeling in your gut. "am i supposed to be flattered?"

"its the truth". 

roman hadn't been a man who lent himself to believing in chance or possibility for sometime. if he wanted something, or hell even someone, it simply happened, because thats the way it had been, since the first burst of the resorts success till before this very moment. when he spoke, the world of the resort opened and bent, twisted and curved till it formed to his liking, so much until the effects of his wants rippled through the whole of the strip till they echoed miles away, through the rolling of nevada desert dust. but you...

the click of your heels, the soft sway of your hips, the way words twisted from your lips comfortable because you knew yourself well enough to know that regardless of his capabilities you'd do something drastic and a bit ways away from reckless before ever letting him get the best of you. 

that bravery, an unflinching flame, new and unpredictable and different and more exciting than anything he'd seen in sometime. 

whether you were leaving or staying, he follows you and savors even the cut of your eyes. it's quick and fierce, unsure of its power but stripping the resolve of him all the same. and of course a curt look is all you give him, as he opens the door to the rendezvous and follows you in, not a word to him as waiters and well off patrons pass the both of you by. a leisure walk around pristine white cloth dressed tables and velvet chairs, each of your steps like some small conquering of a widely secured territory. his territory. you move more sure of yourself by the second and it rushes his warm and wanting. 

with no real hurry, roman pulls out the chair you've picked to sit in just before you can make to do it yourself, finding himself closer than he needs to be, just some inches from your face. each breath in, sweet and tempting. the perfume he bought you...

you sit without a word, not even a thank you, and he finds himself more drawn in by the second. 

it isn't until he sits himself that roman realizes you've chosen a seat at the center of the restaurant. and whether it's purposeful or not, it's damn sure fitting. 

a trivial orbit of faces and voices. 

"you don't take no for an answer do you?"

"when you're where i am, after a while, you stop asking and getting asked. you never even have to hear no". 

its arrogant, eye roll worthy even, but you don't miss the truth in it. the pull of his brows together, lending themselves to a pure honesty. and it's hard, quelling that pull up of envy. to be so well off, so rich, never having to answer to any one. i wish, you thought. i wish

your finger trails along the fine table cloth. "i must have you so out of sorts then, how rude of me". 

"it's fun", he grins. a single finger signaling someone. " 'm learning my manners again". 

and there was this fidelity to his words ......everything is the best because i am the best...... a quality that spilled over into everything that he touched, spoked to, looked at, and did. it was this undeniable thing, a force, that caused such a natural hesitation in you, but also this impulse to fight. you wanted to struggle against him, war with the easy diligence of him till he folded. cracking under the weight of his hubris till large fragmented pieces ground to dust. but you would not win that battle today, no, not as waiters execute their level of precision, plate after plate set atop the table in such a meticulous manner that it seemed to be planned. a well thought scheme with the intent to impress. dish after dish, revealed, one after the other smelling more divine than the one before it. 

the waiter, an adorably eager young man, falls into a spiel about the wine you can't be bothered to care about. his work of a perfect pour all for nothing. it nearly pains you. "i'll take a water please". 

the waiter flattens. a curt nod as he hurries away. 

"it's vintage", roman says. seemingly unaffected by your disinterest in old aged wine. 

" 'm sure it is". eyeing him. the sip his lips take. "seems you've had things all planned out. what if i'd said no?" 

"someone else's lucky night then. a free meal on the house".

"do you have a ready made answer to everything?". 

"i am who i am. it's impossible not to".  the cut of your knives into plated steaks reveals this smooth buttery finish. the meat tender against the blade and more so to the taste. and it takes everything in you not to moan or go cross eyed, not when he's watching your every move. seemingly studying and committing your eyes and lips and words to memory. no, you simply chew. sip at your water and live as quiet in your delight as possible. till of course it hits you, not as hard or sudden as one would expect, but it's more of a washing over. a stilled piecing together that quickens your pulse and frowns out the apathy on your lips. 

you stare down at your plate. a short ways away from dumbfounded. "you know how i like my steak".  even the way he chews is perfect. measured and steady. a luxurious sort of etiquette steeped into the make of him. but you find that his manners are selective, as he doesn't even bother to meet your eyes. low sitting and accusing. he chews as you did, but with more leisure. the slice of his knife and the clink of his fork fighting against the waiting you do in the silence. even when he works to indulge you, he abides in his own time, lets you wrestle with the trivial chatter of the room the way you did not so long ago with the abundance of his gifts. 

he wipes his mouth with a cloth. a feigned unawareness about him. 

"the chefs know how you like your steak".

you scoff. maybe your tenth eye roll of the night. " and the bartenders so conveniently know how i like my cocktails too". 

he sips his wine easy like he would water. "they have an eye for detail, thats why they work here". 

"or maybe", you start. fork an obnoxious clinking at the plate as it drops dramatic from your fingers. "just maybe it's someone else's eyes they're looking through. someone else's words they're following". 

"maybe". 

...so fucking goddamn frustrating... you think. eyeing the full table of food. and it's less anger and more confusion, that slow to finish fraying of nerves. these things that he does, says, that leave you emotionally inconvenienced. 

"you don't know how insane it feels, night after night, trying to pick up a check for dinner and the waiter refuses your money. it feels like stealing". 

he chuckles. "something you should be used to then". 

"fuck you. i only steal out of necessity". 

and this was it, the thing from which his curiosities where born, feverish in his fingers. an ache to flex broad and wide, to do and make till need was just a distant word laying dead at the recesses of your mind. necessities were strange, and if it became flesh and bone with legs and the will to speak it too would be a stranger to him. roman had not wanted for anything in some time, and if he felt in himself that he needed something, the readiness by which it came to him revealed only that he did not need it, but that he wanted it, in that covetous way that a man wants another mans woman. and so it became natural, that others around him would not need for anything either. 

the way he's settled into the velvet of the chair becomes less leisure, leaning in slightly with a more focused determination. "what do you need?" 

your smile is wry. unconvinced. "like you care". 

"if you could have anything, what would it be?"

the list was endless it seemed, a question you'd asked and answered thousands of times and then thousands of times again. cars, houses, shoes, clothes, jewelry, yachts, boats. trivial and obnoxiously expensive things even, if it meant that you could feel the freedom of just being. it was an easy thing to answer, but so hard still when all the answers were far away from you, never even brushing faint at your fingertips. 

and he thinks in this moment, your eyes softening, this is the most serious he's ever seen you. 

"i wanna be comfortable. enough not to worry about anything". 

"and why aren't you there yet?"

"i tried", a finger of yours slipping against the grip of the cutting knife. "but you stopped me". 

but how could he question you? was your drive, your diligence to get what you wanted not legitimate because it was not legal? and with this, the question forms clear again, why the fuck were you here? 

"a man at the top asking me why i'm all the way down here", your head shaking in this sly build of indignation. he had some nerve. "you don't see how shitty that is?" 

roman feels something in him lessen. a deep pulling away that reflects in the flare that takes to your eyes. an edge that leaves the room a bit cooler than before. how could he have been so stupid and blind? judging you for the very thing that had left him in this whirl of curiosity and admiration. 

" 'm not tryin to offend you". 

"but here i am. offended". 

he shifts, reaches the wide stretch of his palm to lay open against the table. an olive branch close enough for you to reach out and take. "let me make it up to you". 

you consider him. the outstretch of his palm. fingers strong and waiting. the way his eyes settle into this mild sort of kindness that still lends itself to something not so pleasing. the warm lights amongst the crystals of hanging chandeliers casting along his face in such a way that it shadows his eyes some but still shines against his features. speaking so clearly to the deepened well of his hubris, always revealing and hiding itself in his own time. he is a sure man, wanting only what he wants, but seeks it in such a diligent way that it suffocates the things, the people that he desires. but maybe, just maybe, if you leave him wanting, challenged and needy, he would give you everything. 

your finger tips move to tease at his. this faint dancing along his palm. "if you're gonna send me gifts, make sure it's things i like". touch a sly caress at his wrist. "i'm not a wine girl, and i hate seeing flowers die". 

he lets your touch play along his skin. revels silent in the rush it sends, a jetting stream into his blood. 

"what do you prefer?"

you slip off a ring that shines against his pinky. fitting it onto your middle one. your stare is this rapturous thing. hypnotic and breath taking, and he understands why you've probably gotten away with so much till now. 

"i have a sweet tooth". 

"i can work with that".

you hum into a sigh, considering still. your hand balling his own to close that reaching opened palm before you settle back into your chair. more eased now than you've been the whole night. 

"i hope so for your sake". 

and roman does not hesitate often, certainly never out of fear. he doesn't mind the manner of his words much, or their phrasing and the life it breathes into his expression. he doesn't suffer much to care for the thoughts of others and their own words, unless of course it somehow seeks to exist against his money, the resort or the greatness of his name. roman wasn't fearful, no, but being here with you, caution takes him all the same. like those tentative seconds where the lucky struck gambler is suspended in possibility, waiting for the dealers reveal. 

his words take to a mindfulness, as if each word is brought out selectively. "has anyone ever offered, to take care of you. buy you things. take you places". 

you laugh in that small uncontrollable way, when something, after so much confusion, becomes clear. because of course this is what he wants. of-fucking-course. 

"some have. i always told them no".

"why?"

to think of it, even if just slightly, annoyed you. "conditions. restrictions. rules. you can't go there, you can't do this. that's not care". 

"control is an acquired taste". 

a grin slips into the seam of your lips. curious. "is it yours?" 

his tongue peaks, a short run against his teeth, and something deep within, this buried and slow to rise feeling tightens at your core. maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a taste of wine.

his grin matches yours. "not if it ain't yours". 

"out of all the woman everywhere, why me?" 

"you try to steal from me, you spit on my casino floor, and you ain't missed a chance yet to tell me how you feel". 

"we're into degradation i see", you joke. and it gets a laugh you think not many have experienced. it's something sincere, crinkling for some seconds the corners of his eyes. and despite the short bout of fondness that forms at hearing him laugh, he's got to be joking right? pulling your leg hard for an even bigger laugh. "i'm a thief roman". 

"a very transparent thief. i don't meet people like that a lot". 

it's a losing fight but still, it's hard not to push back. 

"you barely know me". 

"i could know you, if you let me". 

"what's in it for you?" 

sex, you think. when he's given you enough of his money and access, he'll ask for sex. 

"your company". 

---

riverside, california was not the vegas strip, and by all intents and purposes did not claim to be the notorious sin city. the breeze here was something warm and patient. a soft flowing about, satisfied only by its own directionlessness. but in a small whispered taunting way, it was unadulterated. the vegas strip was loud, this harsh numbing sort of droning that buried the more subtle, truthful noises and those skittish undercurrents in the skin that lent to fervent thoughts and ideas. the silence of riverside and the quaint rooftop air of antonella's was this exposing thing. and you'd come west to unashamedly connive your way into some money, but now you were here, unsure of the minutes, hours and even days to come, with him. sipping at coffee, and picking gentle but anxious at his diamond ring, feeling as aimless as the riverside wind. 

and then, seemingly from no where, his shoes click against the cobblestone, steps slow and uniformed, a pace all his own. and as he sets down a fine spread atop the table; meats, cheeses, fruits, and small cakes, he can sense rather acutely this refusal to acknowledge him. from you, an amusing fight; one leg crossed over the other, a fidgeting in your fingers and this far away look else where, feigning indifference. 

antonella's at noon - roman

he'd written as he liked to do, and yet it was a little passed two in the afternoon. the drive over to riverside lengthy and unknowing. 

"you're late"

" 'm sorry?"

roman is amused but taken a back all the same. in the years of his success, lateness was not something to treat with avoidance or fear but just another trivial idea. something purely subjective. or maybe it was because things just ran on his time, started and stopped when his desires had not been met or when they'd exceeded his expectations. it was new to think that something like that was so bothersome for you. 

he sits in the empty space of a double seated chair beside you. the wood fine and stripped, carved with intricate designs. his arm falling against the top. your bodies closer now than they've ever been. 

"if i'm-", you shift to face him. eyes taken by the tan of his cheeks, sprinkled with freckles. lips full, and beard thick. his eyes softer than normal but still traces of an intensity to them. he's beautiful, even in his arrogance and persistence. "if i'm gonna do this. whatever this is, you have to be on time. i'm not a woman who likes to wait". 

his eyes drop to the plump of your lips. existing there this thin tempting line of gloss. "yes ma'am". 

and his stare lingers, a gentle taking in of the slight pout forming into the line of your lips and the soft round out of your cheeks. your eyes under the cast of the sun, more ethereal than not, but guarded some still in this impatient game of waiting for something that will quell that burden of unknowing. the small tells of your anxiety live in the way you play aimlessly at that ring you took from him, or rather the ring he let you take. even with your demands that fight against his own desires and your quick wits and your curt looks and your own bouts of teasing, you still hesitate for fear of the feelings that come with great disappointment. he wonders now if his words for you are not enough, and that though it had been enough for mostly everyone, you are not them. you are new and different and he'd have to treat you as such. 

roman cuts a piece of cake easy, and on a fork it waits for you to indulge in it. 

"taste this", he gives, handing you the fork. 

"what is it?" 

"panettone". his voice deep and delicate about the shape of the vowels, taking on a slight accent in reverence of the treat. italian?, you wonder. 

the cake is buttery and sweet, a taste of fruit with each pass it takes over your tongue and theres something there as you sit with the taste of it that tells you that it's homemade. its a perfect mixture of everything, as if the baker had made it a thousand times, and then a thousand times more. 

he reaches to pick off a piece of fruit with a slim pick, sleeves loose and revealing the beginnings of what you think is a full arm of connected tattoos. you wonder how far they travel, and where they possibly might end. 

the strength of espresso wafts against the flow of a simple breeze as he takes to refilling the teeny size of your cup and then a splash of his own to taste. 

he sighs, satisfied at the warmth of it. "you like it?". 

"mhmm", you give. a sincerity lining your lips as you give him a small smile. it's something new, relaxed. an earnestness lacking that natural wary look you wear when you look at him. "you're taking my words to heart. i like a man who listens". 

"i aim to please". 

you slip the ring back onto your finger, less fidgety with it now. an easy settling of the tensity in your shoulders that allows your body to rest closer to him. facing inward so that the cross of your leg touches his. and it's this innocent, dainty step towards intimacy. where the gentle quiet of the day fills the air with a more tender possibility. guards are fallen away, more than before if anything, and your eyes shimmer warm and a little more accepting. i'll try, you think to your self, to believe him even if only for a moment. i'll indulge him. 

"you like that ring?", he asks. staring at the way it shines against your finger. 

at the mention of it, you twist the band about your finger. 

"my mother thought the best thing a woman could do for herself was have jewelry. it's the only thing that doesn't disappoint". nostalgia a fine thread in your words. remembering the woman that taught you everything. and he sees the soft way your cheeks turn up. feels a need to keep them that way, but even more so when you look at him. "it's a little big, but it goes with my earrings". 

my...my earrings. claiming fully the things that he'd gifted you. 

his longer, stronger fingers reach for yours, for the ring, seemingly possessed by memory. and his touch is a light caress. featherweight and reverential. a shiver strums your skin there. teeming with the want for a heated relief found only in another pass of his finger, till it folds, along with the others, his over yours, to lock in an embrace. 

"i had it made ten years ago", he tells you. "about a month after the resort opened. a gift to myself". 

his thumb dances with a sweet brushing along your skin, with nothing particularly amorous, but there is comfort here, in your touch, a stranger. the way skin passes slow and steady to feel the other, lax and patient. 

"it's still beautiful", your hand dropping to your lap, locked with his still, and the pull brings him just that much closer. a comfortable leaning in that gives way to him taking in more readily the heady sweetness of your perfume. his eyes and his mouth something like a foot away, but feeling so very close, so much so that it steals breaths. kickstarts that harsh beating in your blood, a drumming pulse in your fingers. you wonder if he feels it. 

"it doesn't disappoint". 

you smile. interested in him. "how old were you then?"

"28. you?"

you can see him at 28. untainted by the burning pace of vegas. his eyes ever intense but in them more of a smolder. his hair longer, with no flecks of grey. more unsure and less persistent. grasping at things that come to him so easily now. 

"24". 

and he'd love to meet 24 you. maybe not as quick witted but clever still. fast in your schemes with a maybe not so predictable temper. but still, a covetous touch to the things you wanted. needed. 

"causing trouble where?", he chuckles. 

"new york". 

he looks at the ring. loose on your finger. 

"ill have the ring resized to fit".

you shake your head. unsure. "it's something special. i don't wanna take that from you". 

"you don't ask and you don't say thank you. if i give it, it's yours. simple". 

he is as serious now as the day you first met him, and beyond all of your own doubting, there's this burden to believe him. the quiet fervor of his words and his touch, the warm glow of him amongst the day light and the unwavering hold his eyes take to yours. and his thumb runs a simple caress over where your pulse quickens harsh at the inside of your wrist, from surprise and need. a soft lulling that only seems to stoke the flame of a slow but sure to rise desire. it's yours, words promising and unfazed by the endless unknowns of tomorrow. so much so that he proves it, slips an envelope from his pocket till it finds its way into your hand. 

and the envelope is mere trash compared to whats inside. a sleek black card, engraved with his own name. 

your fingers slip at it. failing somewhat to hide the growing excitement. but there is disbelief here also, coming alive quick but dying quicker the more you feel the fixed weight of his decision, heavy in his eyes and warm at his touch. his intensity is a power all on its own, working well to lull you in. to subdue. a twinge at your core tells you that you are not immune. "is there a limit?" 

"why would there be?" 

you chuckle. "you're serious?"

"dead serious". 

there's that twinge again, lingering hot and teasing. scares you away from his eyes and the tender hold of his touch, but he doesn't falter, even when your fingers leave the tangle of his. and then, caution breaks against the luxurious sort of excitement teeming quick, tightens into your fingers so that the card feels heavy. too fine to hold in your hands. but still, he remains, sitting with an endless patience, sure that he will win you over fully. if not today then soon. 

the moment still seems too good to be true for you. 

you sigh. "this all isn't just some round about way of trying to fuck me is it?" 

but he doesn't hesitate. amused even. 

"that only happens if you want it to sweetheart". 

and it takes courage not to imagine it. the details of a daydream where his lips slip against your skin, hands strong and leading as they push and prod to his will, till you're just how he wants you, playing in these fast to leave flashes in your minds eyes. you think though, under his heavy gaze, that it's something to wonder about when he's not this close and determined to commit your every expression to memory. so you steel your face, fingers grabbing his cup to sip at his espresso, the curiosity of your daydreams attempting with a desperate sort of vigor to run away from you. they barely succeed. 

with roman, you were in for something interesting. 

[phantobats]

If it's not too much trouble, could you share how you write your first drafts/outlines for your stories/fics?

You seem to have so many fascinating ideas, and you manage to word them in ways that almost seem cinematic and summarize your plots so efficiently. So, as someone struggling to summarize all my ideas into an outline to begin writing my stories, I wanted to ask you if you had any tips on that particular issue?

I will admit that I do have a peculiar work ethic when it comes to typing up outlines for my stories, but I find it's something that helps me more than just typing up a list of bullet points on what happens in a scene. I will also add an example from the current Batfam fic I am working on to better show you what I mean, but first some theory:

When I write a first draft/outline, I write it in the format of a movie script.

Writing outlines in the form of a movie script is incredibly effective because it forces you to focus on showing, not telling, by emphasizing visuals and action.

It tightens dialogue, ensuring every line has impact, while also honing scene structure and pacing. Script format reveals character through behavior and subtext, making emotional undercurrents clear without relying on exposition.

It drives conflict through concise, tension-filled dialogue and helps you create scenes with immediate emotional impact.

By stripping away unnecessary details, scriptwriting makes storytelling efficient, clear, and easy to visualize, naturally sharpening your narrative and maintaining momentum.

As an example, I offer you an outline written like this from a fic that I am currently writing:

EXT. JASON TODD'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

The sky opens up, rain pouring in sheets. TIM DRAKE stands outside a rundown apartment building, shivering as the cold bites at him. His clothes are soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He takes a deep breath, his body shaking, his eyes locked on the chipped, weathered door in front of him.

The door swings open.

JASON TODD stands there, casually leaning against the frame. A cigarette hangs loosely between his lips, smoke curling up around his face. His emerald green eyes take in Tim’s drenched, disheveled appearance. A beat passes, then Jason blows a cloud of smoke directly into Tim’s face. Tim coughs, looking irritated but unsurprised.

JASON (deadpan) “You look like shit.”

Tim laughs bitterly, tugging at his soaked clothes, trying to pull them away from his skin. The wet fabric clings to him, suffocating. His frustration is evident.

TIM (mutters) “Thanks. Are you gonna let me in?”

Jason smirks, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the ground, eyes sharp as they study Tim. He leans against the doorframe, casual but predatory.

JASON (mocking) “Let me guess—His Highness finally replaced you?”

Tim barely flinches, but Jason notices. He always notices. Those green eyes catch every small twitch of vulnerability, every crack in Tim’s resolve. Jason grins, and it’s infuriating—like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Jason takes another slow drag of his cigarette, turning his head to exhale away from Tim. His voice drips with sarcastic sympathy.

JASON “Finally threw you away, huh? Gotta make room for the new, shiny model in his collection?”

Tim's shoulders hunch, his face contorting into a mix of hurt and frustration. Jason’s words hit too close to home, and that self-satisfied grin plastered on Jason’s face only makes it worse. The unspoken ‘I told you this would happen’ lingers in the air between them like a challenge.

TIM (hissing through clenched teeth) “Just let me in, asshole.”

Jason flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. He steps aside, the grin still lingering, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something unspoken.

Tim hesitates for only a moment before stepping inside.

And Cut!

Now, you have a wonderful and imaginative draft to work off of. It does take a bit of getting used to, but thinking of your writing as establishing shots in a movie generally helps with getting into the flow of what you are writing.

[big-cheesy-productions]

SXSG SPOILERS

Okay, I finished Shadow's story. And I have thoughts. Mainly:

More thoughts below:

Overall, I enjoyed it. I think as a way to catch everyone up on Shadow's story and who he is as a character, it did great. It was heavy on exposition, but it's assuming most people haven't played SAB-Heroes-STH '05. Fair enough.

It just felt short. I just wish the cutscenes were longer, and I wish there was more Maria and Gerald and Shadow. The interactions we got with Maria were very similar to what we got in Dark Beginnings. It felt more like a refresher rather than a much awaited closure, but I'll take the closure we got and the reestablishment of Shadow's character.

I think I just would have liked if the story had a few more cutscenes dealing with Shadow, Maria, and Gerald's relationships rather than them trying to figure out what was going on and Maria repeating things said in Dark Beginnings. But that's just me.

I think Dark Beginnings was so amazing and it set my expectations very high, set a specific tone, and had threads that Gens wasn't planning on continuing. I think Gens also set up threads that it dropped too though, like, you know, the whole "maybe I can save them from their fate" thing that got mentioned, forgotten, and mentioned again that was only otherwise minimally discussed in the little snippets of conversation in the over world.

Why was Big there and those two robots? There weren't any other characters relevant to Shadow that could be there? Like Abraham? Or, hell, toss Silver in since he wasn't in the original.

Gameplay wise, it was super fun. It felt very clean. I like the direction Frontiers has set for future gameplay. I think it was a little easy, but maybe that's just because I'm an adult and just played a bunch of old games that have old game jank lol.

Would have loved to see more Rouge and Omega, but I'm glad they're setting up for Team Dark to return in future installments. I'll fucking take that.

I've said it already, but the use of Radical Highway and the symbolism of it was probably my favorite part. I don't know why they had Frontiers level though??? Like, why not one from HIS GAME? Instead of one from a game he's not even in??? Odd choice. Maybe they could have done one of the flashback ARK levels? That could have given us some juicy cutscenes.

Also just want to appreciate the fact that the first time Shadow defeated Black Doom it was as Super Shadow. This time is was all Shadow, no emeralds required.

I also like the confirmation that Shadow was not meant to be a weapon originally. I don't think that's always been super clear. Doom wanted a warrior of course, but Gerald going insane was the nail in the coffin. I would have liked to see more of Shadow's feelings towards Gerald on that, though I did like when Shadow first sees Gerald up close he backs away, and almost looks a bit frightened, until he realizes this is Gerald from before the ARK incident.

I think they could have added a bit more. I think that's my overall opinion. Hopefully DLC will add a smidge more? Maybe?

I really did enjoy it. I just wanted to jot down all of my thoughts!

Edit: I don't want this to read as super critical! I think I had very specific expectations for it and I'd like to replay it without those expectations now. I really think it's great overall!

Anyway, SEGA, remaster SAB2, Heroes, STH '05, and Sonic '06 and my life is yours.

[biggie-chcese]

concepts for kurumi wendy gumshoe gabs because why the fresh fuck did they not give her any like actually hey kodaka can we talk-

(rain code spoilers btw)(also gab will stop sounding like a word to you)

im gonna try to structure a kurumi gumshoe gab set but i will not be writing the conversations out bc im sorry girl but 1. im not obsessed with her enough to basically write a fic and 2. i think the conversations would still be comparatively dull due to yuma's function being "the normal one" to contrast the rest of the kooky cast and kurumi's function as essentially the same thing but also as a love interest and exposition dropper. but i still wanna at least give a model of what her conversations would be like for funsies. I'll be mixing what i think would realistically happen if they gave her gabs and also what i think should happen. alright let's get started

first off, obviously they shouldnt be available until after ch 2. maybe in ch 3 you get a new gab page and yuma can start finding new gabs out in the overworld (what sort of gem color would she have??? jade? is that too close to vivia's emerald? i dont wanna say some shit like rose gold). im not coming up with locations and hints sorry idc that much.

GAB #1

the first gab is them jumping over the hurdle of "wait we don't really have much interaction besides investigating murders and blushing dumbly" which is primarily what irks me in the game's efforts to push her as a love interest. at least let us watch yuma spend some god damn time with her holy shit WHYYY doesn't she have any fucking gumshoe gabs I'm going insa-

erm anyway let's make em have a casual talk abt something. yuma would probably start off like "this is the first time ive really been alone with kurumi ahh i dont know what to say this is awkward ahhhh" and shinigami gets rightfully annoyed with his cuckly behavior. but in an effort to save the awkwardness yuma asks her about her work as an informant. i think she'd enthusiastically spout off about it and how her grandfather inspired her (though keeping it vague because i think she could save more talk of missing family members for later). maybe she talks about her first forway into her informant work and a certain mishap that occured, yuma has to guess what happened bc she's a little embarrassed about it (this is whwre the dialogue options come in). but it's completely harmless. maybe she got spotted by the person she was tailing and then got a slap on the wrist and sent home. yuma finds it a little endearing, shinigami gives the bond level up message, and there. solid conversation. next

GAB #2

yuma asks her what exactly got her so interested in detectives. did she read heroic novels about them? did she see their noble efforts in the headlines? was she personally saved by one? the possibilities are endless and could all be answered here. actually lets have her teasingly make yuma guess here. poof, there's your dialogue options.

maybe she can even have a little kookiness as a treat and accidentally let the true nature of her admiration for detectives slip for a moment where it pretty much crosses the line of "that's a bit creepy". not towards yuma but still something a bit off putting like obsessively keeping track of her favorite detectives' activities or having information about their personal lives she absolutely shouldn't have (informant + proud participant in WDO stan culture is a dangerous combo) but she also misses doing that because now kanai ward is isolated. yuma could also be like "wait isnt what you were doing then a bit too much?" but it gets dismissed by shinigami telling him they levelled up their bond

Threeeeee!!!

this one should be about aiko methinks. yuma catches kurumi in a down mood and asks what's up and it goes from there. she gives us more detail into her friendship with aiko and maybe she could even actually acknowledge the deaths of those theatre club girls and mention how chillingly quiet the club has gotten. she tells yuma that she tries not to think about it, but the empty space they left behind is immense... yuma's dialogue choices may be to try to cheer up/comfort her. thank you, next

4

perhaps now she can talk about her grandpa (and also maybe drop how that home situation is cause girl where are your parents). she could talk about her mission in finding him cause he must be out there!!! somewhere!!!! this shit could be sentimental or smth. she could say something about kanai ward's nearly extinct species of people who are still fighting for the truth and how even when things are dangerous she remembers that no one else will do it so she's gotta step it up. she'd pivot that over to saying how glad she is that the master detectives are here bc of that, and yuma could have dialogue options where the correct choice is basically saying he admires her for that. idk. next

The Fiverrrrrrr

final gab. i was gonna be funny and say "probably another love confession like fubuki's and then yuma hits her with the nuh-uh" but due to the nature of the epilogue i actually dont think it does exactly that. maybe kurumi is stuck on a small, separate thing she's investigating and she summarizes what's up. i think it could potentially be a more personal problem or at least something she can connect to (another girl in school missing a family member? idk) so that it's a bit obvious she's more frustrated in not finding any leads. yuma helps her out a little in finding a lead (this is where the dialogue choices come in) and after thanking him, kurumi is like "y'know, we make a pretty great team" (flirting, but yuma doesnt read it that way.) shinigami groans and maybe even fusses about how she's yuma's partner but this goes ignored. and of course yuma's dense ass is like yeah i think you have the makings of a great informant and detective and he essentially coworker-zones her. kurumi then asks about how they could still maybe possibly work like this together perhaps maybe 👉 👈 🥹 after solving kanai ward's ultimate secret and yuma happily agrees. this will make his choice in the epilogue to fuck off to florida without much of a goodbye even funnier.

anyway thats it for my kurumi gumshoe gabs thanks for reading

[peijizerojournal]

issues and inconsistencies in "khaos reigns" [part 1, probably] :

i already have a post speed-reviewing/critiquing ‘khaos reigns’ and i touched on the sektor parable via a reblogged post, but grrahh, i still have tons of thoughts, questions and comments about the narrative and i need to excise them from my soul so here are some of them. apologies for any spelling mishaps or inconsistencies i may have missed. spoilers below, of course :

- the new era being — essentially — a multiverse, totally cancels out the idea of kronika being THE titan of TIME itself. her timeline was the ONLY one. i know that they tried to explain this away by saying that the fight between liu kang and shang tsung for the hourglass in mk11 was apparently so powerful that it broke the space-time continuum, but still! the way mk1 ended and how ‘khaos reigns’ continues the story basically takes away from the gravity of her position, and the weight of what it means to be the keeper of time. kronika painstakingly tinkered with the realms to achieve a golden balance, but now, since basically everyone and anyone can be a titan, liu kang's sacrifice seems moot. everyone just opens a portal to anywhere and everywhere and does whatever they want to his timeline. he may be reluctant to touch the hourglass out of fear of going insane or mucking things up, but the writers sure don’t mind i guess lol!

- according to titan havik, ‘time crystals’ come from geras (because he’s the only one to exist in all timelines), and they function in a similar way as jinsei (only jinsei is the 'essence' of the realms). so does that mean jinsei isn’t a thing anymore? or are the time crystals the ‘jinsei’ for the alternate timelines? what do they even look like? the needles in geras' back look like they are holding the same fluid that was injected into bi-han, so i'm confused by how they were extracting anything from geras at all...

i wouldn’t really care about this normally, but since they went to the trouble to bring back the kamidogu and insert a weak explanation from havik about the usage of these phenomena, then why not give us the proper exposition? i guess they didn’t bother because the kamidogu are essentially just infinity stones (‘the avengers’) or chaos emeralds (‘sonic the hedgehog’). hm, veryyy creative plot device…

- the scene with sub-zero and havik talking about the time crystals and kamidogu should have been longer. noob saibot's transformation was too rushed and havik’s motivations for corrupting him aren’t there. why didn’t we get sub-zero’s final stand fight scene either? it would have made sense to show that: giving havik a reason to actually keep sub-zero and turn him into a henchman (because of his formidable kombat skills and cunning to follow him into the portal, perhaps) and it also would have helped flesh out bi-han’s dimensionality, too (i.e. jumping into the portal to go after geras).

- geras and sektor should not have stopped noob from attacking liu kang at the end. bi-han needed to fight the fire god. it's such a long time coming. the pressure between the two of them has been building, bi-han’s frustrations have been surmounting and in that moment, he was ready to implode.

would he have lost the fight? yes of course, but that’s the point. bi-han needed to be humbled. maybe after liu kang defeated him in kombat, he might've cooled off a bit and been more accepting of help and willing to go to the temple of the elements instead of having to be sedated and taken there against his knowledge/will. and sektor being the one to break him out and tell him that liu kang 'abandoned' him and left him to rot -- while his last memory of being awake is his failed confrontation with liu kang -- does his redemption arc no favours. no wonder he went back to being 'bad.'

- i believe that sektor is not only bi-han’s enabler, but his full-blown sycophant. i don’t necessarily think she is 100% a manipulative mastermind, but if we ignore the bad storytelling going on, it’s plausible that she is a ticking time bomb of her own, and in her obsessive infatuation with bi-han, she is -- perhaps unknowingly -- sabotaging his opportunities to grow and confront his flaws and frustrations. and to be honest, they don't really seem 'romantically' involved to me, but rather have developed a strange codependency toward one another.

bi-han in mk1’s normal story mode clearly sought to be respected, maybe even revered, and acknowledged for his efforts, as well as exhibiting a keenness to take on more proactive role in leading earthrealm. to go from that to: “better to be feared than respected!” hmm… that doesn’t seem like the same man to me.

sektor’s constant smirking/lurking in the background of the cutscenes, however, makes me think that she’s been planting certain seeds in his head: encouraging him to embrace his negative traits (likely not even on purpose, just out of adulation), be the villain that everyone has already been painting him to be, and continue to isolate himself from everyone who might have ever stood up to his shenanigans or help him find a better path.

whether or not she actually has ulterior motives, it's clear to me that sektor prefers bi-han to be "bad," or unchanged, based on his presented mk1 persona. for her to be the first voice bi-han hears and the first person he sees when he wakes up after his mind is fixed... that's something poignant.

the man has been -- more or less -- 'lashing out' because of the departure of his brothers, and because for sometime now, he's been frustrated by his strained, untrusting relationship with liu kang. so, sektor is quite literally the only one he trusts and feels that he can trust.

but, this sort of 'all-in' attitude is, of course, toxic. when she says to liu kang that she stopped bi-han from attacking him because he 'would have gained nothing' from the challenge'.. uh, who is she to decide that? of course she wants bi-han to be restored: as in, made human again. but not redeemed. a 'redeemed' bi-han would be a different one than the one she has known, and a version of him that has been humbled (like if he fought liu kang at the end and neither her nor geras stopped him), or cannot be controlled (noob saibot) is probably not the one she wants.

she gives off: ‘i’m the only one that understands you’ vibes, but if he remains as noob, or if he were to be redeemed and healed as a better sub-zero, she cannot continue her power fantasy with him. to be honest, i think that would've been an interesting direction to take her character in: where in her mind, she has built up this idea of the lin kuei and the grandmaster, but in bi-han's fall from grace or in realizing her ambitions have diverged from his, she sees her disillusionment and in her delirium, proceeds full-force with the cyber initiative. THAT would have been one hell of a tower ending!

(side note: i also -- like many other people -- was almost certain that she would have looked down on bi-han in her tower ending, the same way she did with cyrax and kuai liang, and thus turned to embracing machinery and going full-on insane with her aspirations for the lin kuei. unfortunately, though... the writers introduced it only to then promptly throw it away.)

there is definitely more than meets the eye with all of this that is worth further exploration and analysis, as there are plenty of examples of her warped fanaticism (think annie, from ‘misery’ by stephen king), but it’s best saved for another post.

- there are too many contradictions between mk1’s base campaign and this dlc, INCLUDING tower endings and intro dialogue. i don’t know what is ‘canon’ and what isn’t anymore because technically, all of it is, if it’s in the game, right? but, it makes no sense for liu kang’s new era. what’s the point of introducing all of these plot twists when they don’t apply to the current timeline? from an ‘easter egg’ standpoint, it is what it is. but from a a lore/storytelling standpoint, it’s confusing and utterly inept. it seems silly to rewrite the lore while constantly referring to the 'old story' at the same time.

- NRS really do hate sub-zero and bi-han… but why? it’s clear that even in mk1, bi-han is shown to be a rather complex, emotional character that is grossly misunderstood and certainly not irredeemably wicked. i have a hard time believing that the guy who wanted to help lead earthrealm, who wanted to use his father’s teachings to guide him, who wanted to lead the clan alongside kuai liang first and foremost…. is suddenly a supervillain? who enjoys lying to his supposed ‘second-in-command’ (cyrax)? this contradicts mk1’s story mode so much (among other things) and it’s WILD. yes, he is extremely flawed, but it's clear that there is more under the surface than is being said. since it was a noob saibot-focused dlc, we needed more info about his upbringing, maybe; more insight into the bond with his brothers and even his subordinates, into his role as grandmaster... but it's clear that NRS can't wholly decide what they want to do with him. they villainize him in 'khaos reigns' except for his story chapter, and even that is nullified by his tower ending. another storytelling fail.

- another conspiracy theory i have is that this dlc seems like it was supposed to be longer and larger, likely including noob’s full character arc, too, because so many things are missing. some of the leaked dialogue from last year was not in the dlc at all, and lots of the lines in the cinematics seem to not really fit… almost as if there were cutscenes that used to be there but were hastily edited out at the last minute or something. also some of the audio mixing and animations are a bit off, if you pay close attention.

- in his first moments as noob saibot, bi-han is literally more human than he’s ever been throughout mk1. strange, considering in the beginning of ‘khaos reigns,’ he is SO out of character and almost comically villainous, but yet… after having his mind broken and then freed from havik’s mental corruption, he is forthright with liu kang, shows distress towards his situation with his hubris on full display, and then he fights alongside the allies to protect the timeline without claiming ulterior motives.

despite the khaos magic still coursing through him, he does his due diligence. but then… all of this gets tossed away when sektor frees him in his tower ending. what was the point in the vulnerable moment where he showed visible concern for how his actions compromised the timeline? or when liu kang lets him know that his desires for a different future aren’t an issue, it’s the ‘methods for achieving them?’ (that scene needed to be longer too, tbh) in short: why introduce the concept of bi-han potentially being salvageable if at the end he’s just going to continue being bad, if not worse off than how he began? the whole dlc was like a flat circle in terms of progression; that's how little happened in it.

- the hand on noob’s hip was supposed to be explained. in the last kombat kast (and i think in that xbox article, too) they said its purpose would be revealed in the actual dlc but… that never happened. aside from the missing fight scene with sub-zero and havik, we didn’t even get a glimpse at his transformation, either. he was just suddenly there… with the hand on his hip and all of these new powers. it would have been nice to get a teeny bit of info as to how exactly khaos magic works for noob, like imagine a scene where havik explains to noob what he can do now, how the hand and the shadow work in tandem and how much more powerful he is compared to how he used to be? it would also have been a chance to explain the random telekinesis, too.

- smoke really, really, really needed to have a chapter in 'khaos reigns'. i have a feeling — as i mentioned earlier on — that the dlc was originally going to be a bigger expansion, but some characters/scenes/dialogue were cut along the way; likely to drip-feed the whole story back to us in a trilogy of dlcs instead (taking notes from BUNGIE i see… ahem ‘destiny 2: lightfall’).

but i digress: smoke having a chapter maybe just before noob’s would have been amazing. it would have been nice to see his visceral response to bi-han’s transformation, as he has claimed to have idolized bi-han in the past and was/is hoping for reconciliation between the brothers. i personally think the brotherly bond between the three of them is the most interesting part of the lin kuei story in mk1, and it sucks to see this angle being completely abandoned when the dlc focuses around bi-han.

we needed MORE BACKSTORY! more info about their parents, their upbringing, bi-han’s obvious long-standing conflicts with his life's purpose, the true nature of their father’s death (what actually happened?), etc. and the dynamic between the three of them with bi-han as noob would have also been really interesting. smoke was absolutely necessary as a the vessel for the more compassionate approach to bi-han’s downfall and ensuing redemption (instead of sektor, who is obviously evil) and bridging the gap between scorpion’s mercilessness and bi-han’s malevolence.

- it's not havik, but liu kang who was the real hypocrite here, and it breaks my heart. first of all, stopping bi-han from killing titan havik in order to ‘save innocent lives’ is such a weak, oxymoronic explanation from liu kang. let’s not forget that he wiped out two timelines in the base game: titan shang tsung's and quan chi's. a bunch of other titans died at the pyramid battle too. liu kang even says himself that without shang tsung to ‘hold the timeline together’ it would collapse! the actions of the final chapter of mk1 were already enough to kill BILLIONS of innocents, yet havik is somehow an exception. actually, leaving havik alive would have been worse, considering he didn’t want to destroy or merge the other realms, but have them tumble into anarchy and khaos instead. bi-han was 100% correct when he said that they were 'not safe until he dies.’

- another problem i have with liu kang is that says he cannot leave his timeline to go help get geras (which by the way… geras is his closest companion and confidant, another powerful being like him who has been at his side for EONS). that left me with a huge, glaring question: where is liu kang’s urgency?

it is so unlike him to be this 'laissez-faire' (but that’s a discussion for another post). he says that he cannot go with them because the timeline would be compromised without him, but that is a silly excuse because:

1) his timeline is tainted anyway, because 'damashi' already messed with it, and the fact that concurrent timelines exist negates this idea that his new era can ever be truly 'safe' again.

2) titan havik leaves his timeline all the time with his cronies… he’s been collecting every geras and kamidogu, so why can’t liu kang? havik said he'd be back to inflict khaos after taking geras, so it wasn't like he needed to wait in earthrealm and twiddle his thumbs. it was GERAS, for god's sake. he should have been right behind bi-han going through that portal, the way they built up the bond them in the main story.

3) liu kang literally DID leave his timeline in the base story mode… the first time, he went to look for titan allies to fight shang tsung, and the second time was when he went to the pyramid to defeat him. he is essentially repeating the former raiden’s mistakes with this sort of approach to protecting earthrealm.

on one hand, raiden was slightly too impulsive and tried to intervene a bit too frequently, causing a negative ripple effect to those surrounding him. i get that liu kang does not want to repeat his — or kronika’s — mistakes, but doing absolutely nothing until your hand is forced and trying to evade all conflict by letting [terrible] events play out is not the way to be doing things. defend your timeline, liu kang!!! get up and get moving!!! just as raiden 'jumping the gun' had its own consequences, so does remaining overly-passive and slow-to-react.

- i like the character of liu kang and i was initially excited at the idea of a timeline reboot with mk1. liu kang is known to be humble, kind, genuine, understanding, compassionate: all of those hero-like qualities that we know and love him for. but that being said, why claim to reset the timeline if everything is going to turn out mostly the same, if not worse?

from a development standpoint, i understand needing to have certain things remain static, no matter what game or era we’re in. for example: raiden must always have lightning, mileena/baraka must always be tarkatan, sub-zero and scorpion must always exist, etc. fair enough.

but having bi-han not even make it a whole game without becoming noob? having shang tsung, shao and quan chi continue their plotting? how come some characters got a pleasant rework (reptile, sindel) but others are thrown so far under the bus and are poorly-utilized/represented (sub-zero, smoke, havik).

constants are needed, of course, but variables are also important too. and there are not enough variables in mk1 for it to feel like a 'new era,' and cheap, low-risk 'changes' are not an effective way to reflect it. at this point, the game should have just been called ‘mk12’, full stop.

- cyrax deserved better. she starts off as what we expected of her, based on her new character bio, anyway. she is loyal, but inquisitive. ‘free-thinking.’ she has no problem pushing back on bi-han a little bit about his explanation for kuai liang and tomas’ departure, and she obviously doesn’t get along with sektor and doesn’t mind talking back to her, either. she is defiant, but noble, as presented. but then…

she spends the rest of story mode groveling to scorpion: following him around like a lost puppy and begging for his forgiveness and receiving the brunt of his anger and spite (which was completely unwarranted and undeserved.)

kuai trying to hold her accountable for something that had nothing to do with her is crazy and really out of character for him, and because of this, her story arc was thwarted by her constant seeking of his approval and validation. the same way sektor’s reliance on bi-han takes away her arrogance, genius and austerity, cyrax’s sudden flip from being honourable but discerning into being manipulated by scorpion is just so, SO unfortunate. both ladies deserved better than to simply be portrayed as the unsung loyalists to a pair of capricious, irascible men.

some insignificant [mostly nitpicky] honourable mentions :

- this was an observation made by gaming youtuber mike hollow who pointed out some telltale inconsistencies regarding believable power balancing: sektor’s camouflage, scorpion’s fire teleportation and rain’s ability to turn into water were all missing in this dlc. it’s like they forgot to include the characters’ defining abilities in the story at all. why weren’t they taking advantage of the cybersuits in the maze? using camouflage to hide from havik’s minions? where was scorpion’s kunai climbing rope? why did rain not turn into water to escape his crushing death? again, it's not that deep in the grand scheme of things, nor is it new to the franchise, but it's definitely something i noticed, as well.

- in that same vein: geras’ time freezing abilities could have stopped him from being kidnapped by havik’s minions. why didn’t he stop them? he casually stopped bi-han at the end from lunging at liu kang, and he had plenty of time to do it since sektor stalled the attack.

in sindel’s throne room, havik was going on a big, illustrious speech about how he was only here for him. isn’t geras on par with being a kind of divine being, considering he himself is a construct of time (i.e. made of the sands)?

perhaps his lack of reaction in that scene can be chalked up to just 'shock', but this is just another example of poor power balancing in mk1's story mode (and i say mk1 and not the other games because the current timeline has all kinds of titans and divine beings that are all fair game). another example of this would be: empress tanya being able to defeat noob, but noob easily defeats titan, kamidogu-powered havik. and -- if the khaos magic had something to do with it -- they should have shown that somewhere in the campaign.

- how come titan havik’s limbs suddenly stopped regrowing when noob fought him? is it because noob has khaos magic in him and thus, he can be defeated by his own powers, therefore stunting his ability to regenerate? they don’t actually explain this whatsoever, unless again: it is another misrepresentation of power scaling in the story, but it is what it is. (seriously though, we should have gotten a scene where havik explains to bi-han his new powers!)

- if bi-han and sektor knew that cyrax wouldn't go for the wedding attack (hence the pointless lie they told her about liu kang 'capitulating to outworld'), then why take her along in the first place? why even include her in their plans at all? this doesn't seem like the same cyrax that kuai liang was referring to in mk1's regular story mode when he said she would 'sooner abet' bi-han's corruption than follow him.

um... as soon as we meet cyrax, she is already weary of bi-han and it seems like she has been for a while, enough so for he and sektor to already suspect her lack of fealty. at that point, she shouldn't have even been given that suit.

(side note: AS SOON as they arrive at the wu shi academy, cyrax is already fighting against the lin kuei and going against bi-han's orders. when she comes down from the roof, she immediately eliminates two of her fellow lin kuei warriors before harumi is even captured. she was already over it even before learning about what really happened.)

it doesn't make any sense and does not corroborate kuai liang's observations from the main campaign. i feel like once more, this is another example of something being changed in this dlc somewhere between the initial leaks last year and the trailer drop this past july. it seems like there might've been more planned for 'khaos reigns,' but they got rid of it, or they're saving it for the next dlc (which i'm almost positive is the case, at this time.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

there are a million more things that are running through my mind, and if it comes to it, i'll make a part 2 to this post. there is still a lot to be said about the dlc on a corporate/business level that may be worth touching on.

that being said: the game design, stages, animations, cutscenes, characters, etc. are all absolutely gorgeous! you can tell the ground-level developers really care about their work and that's amazing. c-suite and the 'narrative department' however...

in addition, i've still got some conspiracies regarding liu kang, kuai liang and also... the khaos magic! has anyone out there played batman: arkham asylum? does anyone remember the TITAN VENOM? yeah, i have a feeling that the writers are doing some borrowing from other IPs beyond the obvious comparisons to the avengers (because, of course). the rabbit hole gets deeper and deeper.

i will leave the bi-han analyses to the experts in the community. there is already a lot of discourse out there about what happened to him but all i'll say is this... he deserved his comeback, redemption and victory lap. but... he was bastardized. again. bi-han 1000% deserved his moment. JUSTICE FOR SUB-ZERO!

anyhow, if you made it this far, thank you for reading! xo

[w4t3rl1lli3s]

I’m not sure if a lot of people have discussed this but a really key concept in saltburn is the idea of appearances vs reality. What we see isn’t what’s the absolute truth.

The mirror motifs (like Oliver appearing in a fractured reflection or him appearing upside down, or even him punching the mirror) are a huge indicator of his manipulation. The fractured reflections represent his sort of ideas on how he’s going to manipulate (creating different identities for himself based on each person he interacts with; a helpless lamb for Felix, a gossip girl for Elspeth etc). Inverse mirrors also work in representing how he’s flipping the “natural order” of Saltburn as well as the class divide/capitalism. This might be a reach but I suppose you could link Oliver shattering the mirror to him shattering his appearance as the son of addicts living in squalor, idrk.

ALSO THE ROCK THING WAS SUCH DRAMATIC IRONY. When Oliver lies about his dad dying and they throw that rock for him but it lands ON THE BANK!!! what appears does not coincide with what is real and the rock is a veiled exposition for the audience!!!!!!!!!!!!

emerald fennel was insane for this. truly.

[inawearyworld]

free if you truly wish to be: chapter i

florence fickelgruber, the famed chocolatier's idealistic young wife, ponders her past, her regrets, and her longing for a change. guess what? she finds one.

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~1.7k

chapter one is a shit ton of exposition for the character, but i promise you, dear timothee fans, the content you're here for is coming. i tried to capture the dahl style of storytelling (without, yknow, the racism and fatphobia and all that) which was so fun. this character essentially popped into my head last night, and the story will follow her development through the plot of the movie. after i left the theater, i realized i'd painted my nails to match mat’s costumes without realizing, and then suddenly WHOOM there she was. almost like magic. :)

enjoy!!

(also. even if the cartel’s offices don’t actually have balconies, THEY DO NOW.)

part two fic masterlist

"Free if you Truly Wish to Be", or, "the Chronicles of the Songbird", being a Tale of She who is Truly one Wren Matterson, but More Widely Known-at the Start of our Plot-as one Florence Fickelgruber.

Things were…fine.

In a world such as this one, there was very little luxury for a girl such as herself to hatch, nurture, and follow a dream. It would spark up in the purest of fashions and launch onto its way, glittering with promise of a life’s hopes fulfilled, only for the world around it to force it down a path of compromise and disillusionment until the dream’s poor follower found it nearly unrecognizable.

Such was the lot of Mrs. Florence Fickelgruber’s passion for performance. Long before either of these names were attached to her, she knew she longed to spend her life swept up in poetry and music, creating a better world through the arts she loved.

That dream, she often swore to herself, had not died.

It had simply…not turned out as planned.

For now, at least.

For a little over the past two years, more specifically.

It would have been nice to have the means and time to try to make her own fortune, to experience a sweeping romance with someone her own age, to live in a world fair enough that allowed her to both support her now-faraway family and live according to her ideals; it would have been nice indeed.

But for now, life was not quite nice, but fine. The sleekly fonted Fs that monogrammed nearly every surface in the mansion in which she lived had stood during the beginning months for her husband’s, and now her own, alliterative names. Now, she only saw them as golden signifiers of things being nothing more than Fine.

She was currently perched on an emerald-colored fainting couch in her husband’s office that, despite its plush craftsmanship, had lost any semblance of comfort long ago. She sat, and she considered the striking portrait of the two of them that hung over the fireplace, which they’d posed for when she’d still thought this was a good idea: a self-satisfied smirk rested on his face, and her emerald-manicured hand rested on his chest (intended by her to show her devotion, intended by the artist to show her ornate ring). She sat, and she looked into the hall, and she sat, and she stared out the window for a time, and she sat. Eventually, she picked up a set of paper and an emerald-set quill.

“What’s that you’re writing, darling?” came Felix’s voice from across the room, and she nearly sighed in annoyance, a direct contrast to the way her head snapped toward the sound.

There shouldn’t be a melody to that voice, she thought. Not when he only seems to initiate conversation at the exact moments I’ve decided to do something for myself.

“To the opera house,” she responded as he entered the room.

“Again? I thought they’d rejected you.”

“On the grounds that they were scared to hire me, they said, lest they write my role not fully to your liking and lose their concessions wares because of it.”

“Pish, posh.”

“Do you think, my love,” she asked, standing and moving to him, “that…well, would you dictate something I can write here, to reassure them? They’ll take your word over mine.”

“There wouldn’t be a point,” he said flippantly. “Besides, they’re right. Just keep singing for my radio commercials, darling; the customers love it. I can’t imagine you needing anything else. They’re installing our new grand piano next week, you can have all the little fun you’d like on that…”

Throughout this speech, he’d been digging through the pockets of his impeccably tailored blazer, eventually producing a cigarette.

“Give me a light, pet?”

She gritted her teeth as she lit his cigarette, and he brought it to his lips with a smile. She hated when he called her that.

It used to make her feel…wanted, wanted when nobody else did.

Now it just felt…

“I want to share my work,” she said, pushing aside the previous thoughts and pushing forward the previous conversation. “I want to have a genuine impact on the world.”

“And you will, I swear it. Once Fickelgruber Chocolate’s advertisements started using your voice, sales went up nearly twenty percent, and they’re only growing; if that’s not impact, what is?”

With that, he kissed her before she could give an answer-there was a time I would have romanticized that taste of cigarette smoke-took the half-finished letter, folded it so crisply it nearly ripped, and tossed it into the gold-leaf wastebasket.

“Felix-”

“Just wait until the new radio spots are released. It’ll be marvelous, darling.”

She should have known this was how it would be.

It had seemed too good to be true in the moment. To receive, after a performance in her home city, not only the praises of a world-famous chocolatier but also an offer to travel to and perform in his world-famous city, and later a proposal-albeit more businesslike than romantic-to be set for life, to provide for her struggling family; although, she’d come to learn, her husband would have wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her if he had known of her humble origins.

He’d just never bothered to ask.

Well, save for once-

“I assume you come from a good family?”

“Oh, yes, they’re the warmest souls you could ever-”

“Wonderful.”

I grew up nowhere near those obsessions with reputation; how was I to know he meant “good” in that sense?

Before she truly knew him, she had liked him. Felix was undeniably smart, and not unhandsome; she thought him to have a solid wit and an intriguing way of speech, with eyes and hands that would have been attractive on a kinder man. The clean lines and deep green hues that seemed to follow him everywhere suited her well, and she used to have reason to believe that association with him might give her a platform to create positive change, that he saw her as an equal in ambition and intellect.

Once they were married, once she’d seen him with the rest of his Cartel and realized the depth of his disdain, arrogance, classism, and general apathy for anything that was not himself, that reason to believe had dwindled faster than a sweet drop of hot chocolate on a waiting tongue.

…Not to mention that I could practically see him almost rescind his proposal when he learned I’m lactose intolerant.

But she’d suffered through the resulting throataches and occasional days of less-than-stellar singing that came with the barrage of dairy-filled sweets as she was announced to the world as the famed chocolatier’s fiancee, telling their story (which Felix embellished quite often) to the press over and over again.

“Yes, that’s right,” she remembered him saying on the television broadcast that announced the engagement, “my little songbird has finally found her golden cage.”

She had winced, forced to make it seem like a smile in the face of the blinding sea of flashbulbs. That had been the first moment in which she couldn’t ignore the deeper feeling that this was wrong, and she wondered if anyone watching would notice her flash of pain.

What she didn’t know was that, thousands of miles away, in the middle of a far-off ocean, a boy on a ship had been holding a tiny transmission screen (assisted somewhat by magic in order to obtain a stronger signal), eager to see the news about one of his idols, and that, despite his core tendency to give the benefit of the doubt, that idol lost a bit of his respect that day.

I shouldn’t have done this.

But if my family was still starving, all because I wanted to wait for someone kinder, someone who’d support my dreams, I couldn’t forgive myself.

She was startled from her thoughts by a shout calling from below the office, followed by…

A song.

Felix discarded his cigarette and went to the window, posturing into a lean against its frame, and Florence followed. His arm slunk around her waist, so her hand found its way to his chest; it was the portrait pose again, the frozen frame, the unspoken understanding.

I do love acting.

But I don’t know how much longer I can take a life of…offstage performances.

The boy in the center of the Galeria, though, seemed not to be putting on a persona for the crowd, but rather infusing his entire soul into his song to them. He was indeed meaning to sell something, but his passion for it shone brightly in a way she’d never seen from a businessman, present company included. The people that were starting to surround this young man hailed from all walks of life, and he beamed at them all with the same sunlit smile.

With a flourish, he opened the lid of the jar of candy that he held, and-

Oh!-

Each piece of chocolate had flown from its container and flitted into the air, leading to a gasp of delight from the crowd. Florence was able to suppress her own squeal, but couldn’t stop a flex of the hand, involuntarily causing her to grasp her husband’s tie.

“Don’t worry, pet,” Fickelgruber said, clearly misunderstanding his wife’s reaction, and with the tone of his voice clearly opposite of his words. “His charm over them will be…short-lived. Our business is perfectly safe.”

The boy finished his song to rapturous applause, and it took every ounce of Florence’s theatrical training to keep from joining it. She felt a shift next to her, and looked to the side to see her husband making pointed eye contact with his colleagues in their respective offices. The smirk that used to set her soul aflame-before she’d learned what it could mean-formed slowly across his face.

“Florence?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Go home.”

“I-”

“We’ll take care of him. Go home.”

Saying this, he left her side and swiftly went out of the office, presumably to join forces with the rest of the Cartel in terrorizing the poor young man.

The moment Felix’s presence could no longer be felt, Florence let out a breath.

Turning back to the window, she considered the boy, who was wholly wrapped up in the joy of his work having an impact on those who witnessed it.

Tentatively, and with the slight smile of a small rebellion, she turned the window’s handle and stepped out onto the office’s balcony.

She wouldn’t let his light be dimmed in the same way she thought hers was.

And she would certainly not go home.

[elodiah]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Sunday once more… by mere minutes, but whatever. 🤷‍♀️ A bit of dull-ish expositional dialogue from the next instalment in my Patience-verse series. What scrape have Lokius gotten themselves into this time?

“We won’t suffocate in here though?” Mobius asked, trying his best to keep his voice level as he glanced at the emerald-hued shell of energy surrounding them.

“No, not if this world has a breathable atmosphere,” Loki replied, then shot Mobius a sharp look, “Please tell me it does!”

“It should, yeah. Tempads are programmed to only allow passage to planets that do, unless you enter a manual override.”

“But your tempad is clearly not completely functional, currently,” Loki pointed out, with an accusatory glare flung at the offending device.

“Relax, Loki, the initial atmospheric readings I got on here checked out,” Mobius reassured, “I think we’d know by now if it wasn’t breathable anyway, wouldn’t we?”

“Most likely,” Loki agreed, but nonetheless appeared barely placated.

Tagging @kcscribbler , @in-my-loki-feels , @lokimobius , @loki-is-my-kink-awakening , @mystic-voyager , @mirilyawrites , @thosegayoldmen and @silentxsymphony

[bestworstcase]

Rwby beyond March 30th, any theories? What are you hoping gets explored? Please let me see team OREN, 🅱️lease

given how directly salient RH was to neo’s arc in v9, i expect the same to hold true for the CFVY novels in regard to the vacuo arc, and i think making that backstory more accessible to general/casual audiences is one of the core purposes of rwby beyond—giving cliff notes in a brief animated short is a lot less of a barrier than asking viewers to read two entire novels, even if the novels in question are quite short. a succinct recap of what went down with the crown’s insurgency prior to the broadcast and arrival of refugees from atlas + character-focused shorts giving some sense of what’s been going on with the vacuo coalition in the aftermath so that v10 can hit the ground running seems the most likely. a sort of after-credits “where are they now” for v8 but with the intention of setting the stage for v10 as opposed to tying off loose ends.

i anticipate it’ll be in a similar vein to the epilogue animatic—like a more narrative-driven world of remnant-esque series where it’s in-character exposition over a sort of slide show. (what i would ideally really like is if we got the same basic story told in a different ways by different characters, rashomon style, as a way of elaborating on the story’s themes about storytelling and the nature of truth.)

i am not holding my breath for anything to do with salem or cinder or summer, but i would be over the moon to get even the tiniest crumb of what’s happening over there given that they are Clearly Not in vacuo.

given the description of “untold stories happening in remnant during v9 and even beyond” i am wondering if the series will like, end around where the storyboard epilogue does—ie with the reunion after rwbyj return—again for the purpose of easing the narrative burden at the top of v9. i could even see it going as far as settling rwbyj into the New Normal in vacuo (as in, establishing up to the equivalent of where they’re at in rwby x jl pt 2), although that depends on how important the Explanations are narratively (the more important they are, the less likely they’ll be in rwby beyond bc you want to reserve critical scenes for the show proper)

the other possibility is that “and even beyond” means in the past, in which case we might get some “missing scene”-esque shorts set during previous volumes. which i think would be pretty neat.

i would love it if we got a spot or two focused on civilians rather than the main cast—for many reasons, vacuo is the ideal point in the narrative to start breaking down the hard boundaries between huntsmen and civilians and the CFVY novels focus quite a lot on non-huntsmen experiences, so i’m pretty optimistic that this will happen generally but i’d be stoked to directly get a glimpse through the eyes of an ordinary vacuan citizen or mantelian refugee with no connection to the plot whatsoever, and the relative low-stakes of an ancillary “untold (short) stories” series is the perfect place for that. fingers crossed.

in addition to the CFVY novels recap, i’m placing my bets on a short centered on qrow, oscar+ozma, ren, nora, emerald, winter and/or the schnees, robyn and the other happy huntresses, pietro+maria and whoever else is involved with converting amity into a battleship, arrival of aid from vale and mistral, glynda, (possibly) mercury+tyrian, and raven. plus tai if he’s left his cabin. that’s assuming like WOR-length shorts; if they’re longer then these can and probably will be combined more efficiently. but broadly speaking those are the important narrative gaps to fill in.

[the-heart-of-a-monster]

I’ve been gone for so long but I have so much to say and idk how to say it so please be prepared for an absolute mess of an ask lol

First, I just really wanna give appreciation for Super Emeralds (The comic creator) and their dedication to THOAM. I’ve been on Tumblr for just a little more than a year at this point, and I only joined in the first place because of this comic. I got into it way back in… What was it, 2020?? 2021? And I fell in love immediately with the concept! Sonic feeling insecure about his new Werehog form? Chip being an active member of the team and a great friend?? TEAM DARK??? SONADOW DONE RIGHT?????????? Ohohoho! You can bet I was completely on board! I tried my best to comment on every page, because I just love giving positive feedback for things I enjoy, and took note of how Super Emeralds evolved their style as the years went on. I wasn’t there during the beginning, and I really wish I was, but the time I’ve spent following this fun little comic has made me feel so much appreciation not just for Super Emeralds as a person, but for the entire Sonic art community as a whole! Art is a creative endeavor, a passionate career, and sometimes it’s really hard to just. Draw. Comics are especially hard as I’ve discovered. So just… Good job to Super Emeralds for sticking around all these years and for giving us such an incredibly thought out and beloved series. And thank you.

…

ALRIGHT ENOUGH OF THAT MUSHY GUSHY STUFF AND LET’S TALK ABOUT THE BLUE BOY HIMSELF THAT IS NOW NO LONGER JUST BLUE MUAHAHAHAHASHEHEHEKEFHEOFHFFPWEHFLFHD

I’ve been a bit absent from Tumblr for the last few weeks due to sickness and lack of interest so I am undoubtedly missing a page or two from the equation but OH MY GOSH. POOR SONIC. Bro wakes up from like a 2-day long nap and the first thing he sees is his little brother screaming in his face at 3AM. He’s so confused haha! I noticed he isn’t as insecure or he isn’t really freaking out as much as I assumed he would way back during the exposition pages. This is obviously due to the confusion and whiplash after waking up as his “Normal” self again, but I feel like it’s just him putting on another fascade around his friends. To an extent, at least. He isn’t aware of the new pink markings all over his body and he isn’t aware of just how worried all his friends were. All he knows is that they know about his new form and they for some reason aren’t acting weird about it, so he’s likely just playing along to make sure nobody gets overly concerned. It just seems like something he’d do. Or maybe I’m just grasping at the angst straws, idk.

OMEGA IS FIXED BY THE WAY I DO NOT WISH TO GLOSS OVER THAT FACT. THE BOY IS BACK!! THE ROBO BOYO IS BACK!!! I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE ALL THE CRIMES HE’LL BE ABLE TO COMMIT ONCE TAILS GETS THOSE ROCKET LAUNCHERS WORKING AGAIN HEHEHEEE

Also let’s not gloss over how Omega doesn’t care that Sonic mauled him to death. Let’s not gloss over the fact that Omega clearly cares for the others because of his ignorance to Sonic’s rampage.

Yeah if you couldn’t already tell I’m a sucker for this kinda stuff-

Uhhhhh I don’t really have much else to say, honestly. Maybe I will later, but right now I’m on a time crunch so I gotta keep this all pretty concise. Thank you so so much for reading all the way through, I know this was a really really long one. And again, thanks to Super Emeralds for being able to last this long and not losing motivation for the comic. I know I would’ve given up after just 5 pages! (I actually tried to make a comic of sorts and I literally gave up after 5 pages I am not kidding.)

Aight I gotta go now bye bye!! 👋

ur gonna have a field day in 2-3 weeks depending on when u decide to go on rampage haha

[cosmicheartzone]

((Alas, poor Emerl is still forever gone. Cosmo being a recurring character was not enough to save him. At the very least, Cosmo might have been able to provide a little more exposition potentially about the Gizoids based on Seedrian research but she probably wouldn't have had the foresight to realize what happened to him could happen. They all assumed he would be fine after he had gotten all the emeralds and established a connection with everybody. If it weren't for that damn Final Egg Blaster...))

[Sonic Advance 3 true ending rip from Furs the Fox]

[filmbrokiller]

Recently Watched: Saltburn (2023) Dir. Emerald Fennell

This movie was probably the most polarizing of the year, most either hating it or loving it and while I am VERY sympathetic to the criticism I am apart of the "love it" crowd.

Yes, the most talked about moments were purely for shock value despite still being pretty tame. Yes, the writing was predictable and messy. YES, IT WAS NOT PERFECT! However, what this film has that many other lack is full commitment to the vibe. Every actor is fully in it, and they are delivering performances that keep you entertained and engaged despite a very underwhelming screenplay. Even despite the lackluster class commentary what really stands out is the exposition of human desire and the depravity of desperation and I feel like thats where it finds its footing.

It is shot beautifully and the soundtrack rocks. Barry Keoghan is dedicated to being a little freak, Rosamund Pike is fully a bitch, Jacob Elordi is sexy! WHAT ELSE COULD YOU ASK FOR??!! This was a fun time, it was fierce and it introduced me to Murder on the Dancefloor with one of the most iconic scenes in recent memory. I really think there is merit in a good time!! Similar to my love for Showgirls, I think the fearlessness of the performances and the sheer sexiness and fun of it makes this great!! But hey, this very well may be shit and I simply want Jacob Elordi in a crazy way 🤷‍♀️