#EmotionalWriting

[shannyhere]

pockets are empty, dreams on hold

bills stack high, and the nights feel cold i chase the hours, but they slip away working for pennies, day after day

i need the money, it’s all i can see freedom’s a price that’s too high for me counting the minutes, waiting for more but the struggle’s the same as the day before

[s-soulwriter]

Writing Angsty Scenes Without Making Them Cringe

Alright, so we all love a good angsty moment, right? That scene where everything feels like it's falling apart, emotions are running high, and your character's world is just burning around them. But… writing those scenes without slipping into "oh no, not this again" territory? Yeah, it can be tricky.

Angst is powerful, no doubt, but it can get cringey fast if you’re not careful. So, how do you make your readers feel the hurt without rolling their eyes at the drama? Here are some thoughts (because we’ve all been there)

1. Keep It Real No one—and I mean no one—has perfectly poetic, life-altering thoughts while they’re in the middle of an emotional meltdown. If your character’s going through it, make sure their reactions feel raw, maybe even messy. Show us their confusion, anger, and fear in a way that makes sense for them. Don’t just throw in a monologue about the meaning of life or have them collapse in a rainstorm. (Unless it’s really necessary. Then, okay, fine, but be careful!)

2. The Little Details Hit Harder Sometimes, it’s the small, unexpected details that pack the biggest punch. Instead of a dramatic sobbing fit, maybe your character’s hands shake as they try to make a cup of tea or they notice a tiny crack in the wall that they never noticed before because they’re spiraling. It’s those little, relatable moments that make the angst feel real, not overdone.

3. Embrace the Quiet Moments It doesn’t always have to be yelling or crying to show that your character is struggling. Silence can be loud. Sometimes it’s the things unsaid that carry the most weight. Maybe your character withdraws, or they’re stuck staring at the ceiling for hours. A pause in the conversation, a long sigh, or a blank stare can be just as gut-wrenching as full-on breakdowns.

4. Avoid the Obvious Clichés (If You Can) Okay, this one’s a bit tricky. It’s not that you can’t ever have rain scenes or broken mirrors (I see you, “symbolism”), but if you’re gonna go there, give it a twist. Maybe instead of staring out a window during a storm, they’re in a brightly lit, overly cheerful room that just doesn’t match how they’re feeling. Play with contrasts. Make the environment work against their mood rather than mirroring it perfectly.

5. Let the Angst Breathe Don’t feel like you need to dump all the angst in one scene. Let it stretch out a bit. Give your characters space to process (or fail to process) over time. A lot of times, readers will feel more for a character who’s quietly unraveling over several chapters than one who explodes all at once. It makes the eventual breakdown hit harder when it does happen.

6. People Are Weird When They’re Hurting They joke at the wrong times. They say things they don’t mean. They shut people out, or they get way too clingy. Don’t be afraid to make your characters react in unexpected or contradictory ways—people do that when they’re feeling too much. Let your characters be complicated, because real people are.

7. Subtle Can Be Stronger Not every angsty scene needs a screaming match or someone running away dramatically. Sometimes, a single line of dialogue or a character’s slight change in expression can hit like a freight train. Try letting things simmer. Hold back when it feels like you should go big, and you might surprise yourself (and your readers) with how much more intense it feels.

[athenanfaymont]

A Peek Into My Latest Superbat Fanfic: Secrets, Emotions, and the World I’ve Built ✨💫

I’ve thrown myself completely into my latest Superbat fanfic, and I’m not sure how to explain just how deep I’ve gone into this. I’ve entered this world so fully that it feels more like I’m living it than just writing it. The clarity with which I see it—it’s like reading a comic, but it’s not just any comic. This one’s mine, and it’s unfolding in front of me, frame by frame, with details so sharp I can almost touch them. And it’s alive: a film, a memory. 📖🖤

In my mind, Bruce isn’t just Bruce Wayne. He’s wearing the most incredible brands—luxury suits and watches, expensive tastes in illogical cars. His life feels so full of wealth, privilege, and sophistication. But also? Alfred is there too—tending to his garden, knowing every flower’s meaning like it’s a secret that only he understands. He cares for the plants as much as he cares for Bruce. There’s so much heart in this place, even though Alfred doesn’t even show up there.

And Clark? Clark is so much more than the superhero I knew. He’s got this calm, gentle smile—tired but full of love—and he’s the type to place a hand on the Robins’ shoulders, grounding them, offering support even when he’s carrying the world on his own. When he’s Clark, there’s this quiet strength that is almost... fragile. He lets himself be small in those moments. He’s human too.

I’ve even gone so far as to map out Wayne Manor, down to each room, each door. I can feel the space. I can smell Alfred’s cooking—the rich aromas of comfort food that fill the halls. Seasonal vegetables, fresh bread, the smell that tells you it’s safe. It’s the kind of world I can’t help but want to live in.

The emotional moments hit hardest. I get nervous as I struggle with Bruce’s silence when he can’t find the right words. I feel Clark’s fear, because sometimes he is fragile. These scenes, these moments, they mean so much to me. Every word matters. Every breath feels like it weighs something.

And here I am, sharing this with you. A little secret about what goes on in my mind when I’m writing. I hope when you read it, you’ll be able to see this world the way I do. I want you to feel the weight of every emotion I’ve poured into these pages. To see the luxury, but also the vulnerability. To understand the bond between these characters, to feel everything I feel as I write.

This isn’t just a fanfic. It’s a world I’ve built with my own hands, and I can’t wait to share it with you.

[monthlywritingchallenges]

🎵 Coming Soon: January Song Challenge! 🎵

Start the new year with creativity and inspiration! Different song will guide your stories, drabbles, or poems, focusing on themes of new beginnings, hope, and growth.

✨ Prompts inspired by meaningful lyrics and melodies.

✨ Open to all genres, fandoms, and original works.

Stay tuned for the song list and get ready to kick off 2024 with creativity! 🎶

You want a song on the list? Send it via Ask!

[uncle-keg]

Untitled Love Poem

Pulling you closer to me, as we melt away in each other's arms; where I could spend– all day.

You make me feel so at rest with your hands caressing my chest...

Looking up into those eyes of rich dark chocolate, puts me in a trance– making me love being alive.

My smile in their reflection never seemed so radiant, credited all to your affection.

[tejwriter1206]

'The Weight of Love'

Stress is mine, happiness yours—

I am the storm’s reluctant heir,

Carrying tempests in my chest,

While you waltz beneath a sunlit sky,

Unburdened by the clouds I cradle.

Pain is mine, joy is yours—

I bleed on the thorns of sacrifice,

While you cradle the bloom of bliss.

My hands bear the weight of ruin,

So yours remain light with dreams.

My nights bleed into an endless abyss,

Where shadows whisper my name,

Yet your days shine like a hymn,

Each moment kissed by golden hues.

I am the fractured string,

Muted and forgotten,

While you are the melody

That dances beyond the silence.

My heart is a battlefield,

Its silence deafening, its wounds unyielding.

Yours, a garden of serene whispers,

Where peace blooms in every corner.

If love is measured by giving,

Then I have poured rivers into your hands—

Yet why do I remain a barren sea?

Perhaps love is not a balance,

But a beautiful burden,

Where one must break

So the other can soar.

~Author S.S.Teja

[the-feral-quill]

The Comfort of You

Thank you for being there when you're busy or unwell, For listening to my rants, my stories to tell. Thank you for taking my feelings to heart, For showing me care right from the start.

Thank you for making me feel safe and secure, For effort and time that makes me feel sure. Thank you for being yourself, nothing more, It helps me feel comfy, lets my own heart soar.

Thank you for smiles on the days I might cry, For laughter that lingers when tears won't dry. Thank you for always just being you, For all that you give and all that you do.

[s0ftplacetoland]

Congratulations to those who can walk through life without falling in love with the idea of falling in love— who don't need to taste every fleeting thing until it lingers like a favorite perfume you can never quite forget.

How must it feel to float through a day without the pull of something half-formed, half-remembered, yet entirely irresistible, without your mind gathering loose threads and weaving them into a story you know will break your heart before it’s finished?

I envy you, though I won’t admit it aloud. You who don’t turn every passing thought into a full-scale obsession, who don’t set up camp in the middle of a moment and refuse to leave, no matter how long it takes to untangle yourself from the mess you’ve made.

But then again, maybe it's lovely to live lightly, without giving your soul over to something that will ask for all of it— like a lover who promises the moon and delivers only silence.

But I don’t know that life, and you, I’m sure, don’t know mine.

[amandaannotates]

[echoesofnothing26]

A Story Unwritten

There’s a quiet ache that lingers in the spaces where I thought something more might grow. I keep revisiting moments like turning pages of a book that never quite ends, hoping maybe I missed a line that would change the story. But there’s no twist, no hidden revelation—just the quiet truth that I knew all along but somehow tried to rewrite in my head.

It wasn’t her fault. It never was. She never promised anything more than what we had for that brief time, and I can’t hold her responsible for the parts of me that decided to stay behind, lingering in memories that feel heavier now.

I told myself I wasn’t hoping for much, that I could settle for her presence, even if fleeting. But the truth is, I wanted more, even when I said I didn’t. I can’t blame her for not stepping into the story I built without asking if she wanted to be part of it.

I keep thinking maybe I should have waited, let time soften the edges, but the words felt too heavy to carry alone. And so I spoke, knowing the risk, and now I’m left in the quiet aftermath.

There’s no villain here. Just two people, crossing paths for a moment, and one of them holding on a little longer than the other. I won’t apologize for feeling the way I do, and I won’t ask her to apologize for not feeling the same.

Maybe, in time, this weight will lift. Maybe I’ll look back and simply feel grateful for what we’ve shared. And maybe, just maybe, in time, we’ll find each other with new eyes—eyes that can rewrite the story of us and choose to move forward.

For me, that door will always remain open.

[shannyhere]

i became a crybaby after you died

the grief hit hard, and i couldn’t hide every little thing made me break and weep memories of you cut deep in my sleep

but tears, they heal in their quiet way slowly, i’m learning to face the day though you're not here, your love still remains guiding me gently through all of the pain

[sunnyanddumb98]

The day I moved to Santiago, my sister was diagnosed with HPV 16. I’ve seen her cry before, but this time she was broken, convinced beyond any reassurance that she’d never have kids again. What was supposed to be a big change for me suddenly became all about her. I dropped my things and cooked dinner, but the new place, the new city, the new world—everything was in the back of my mind. I guess that’s how change works. You keep going, and maybe in a month or six, it’ll hit me: those beach days feel so far away, like another life altogether by then Fernanda will be either just fine or in treatment and will be my time to move again and cook dinner in a whole new place.

[jubz0]

Embers at First Light:  A Child’s Rage

Inspired by Dylan Thomas’ “Do not go gentle into that good night”Personal adaptation of Dembe Zuma’s Final Monologue

A shared destiny. With silent certainty, death awaits us all. Death’s significance is inherently dissolved by the inevitability of fate’s call. What truly matters? Our relentless search; what we pursue, what we discover. how to heal, how to love, how to grow.   How we Live. We cherish these children, more than anyone will ever know. Their remarkable refusal to go quietly into that good night. Their  fight  for  life. A  fight  in  spite. Imposed by dusk in countless ways, yet fiercely committed to the day’s embrace. When confronted by the silence of twilight, they defy in rage.  The  rage  of  life, To rage against the dying of the light. A blaze to capture moments of peace, play, and joy. Their journey—an innocent and curious endeavour to explore life with an unwavering passion—is perhaps the most profound path one can take. Inconceivable that their spark would fade—freed of wake, into that good night. Our time with them, our time together, is never about an ending. It is always about the odyssey, about discovery, about a child’s everlasting reminder—showing us, imploring us; to rage. Do  not  play  gentle  in  this  fight. Rage. Tend  the  embers  of  their  bright  light. Rage,  rage  and  ignite—

[shadowsfromtheheart]

Abyssal Descent

Beneath the water’s veil, I am trapped,

A prisoner of an unseen force,

Grasping my throat with spectral hands,

Choking, silencing my breaths.

I am engulfed in a paradox,

Feeling nothing yet everything at once,

Sinking in a weightless realm,

Where limbs turn leaden,

And vitality ebbs to shadows.

A primal awareness stirs within,

Instincts whispering of the dire need for air.

Eyes flutter open, limbs begin their desperate dance,

Legs thrashing like rudderless sails,

Arms flapping in futile mimicry of flight.

I grasp for the surface,

Yet each thrash pulls me deeper,

A relentless tug of gravity’s embrace.

My chest tightens,

Breathe a fading whisper,

Water seizing my mouth and lungs in a cold embrace.

Pressure mounts, a vice on my heart,

My screams emerge as mere whispers,

Lost in the watery abyss,

Strangled by the unseen chokehold.

My final cries for help dissolve

Into the crushing silence,

A fight against the deep,

Heard by none.

I am submerged,

A soul trapped beneath the waves.

[elysianwing]

Rough Draft

I know this place. I know it well… It is where…when left alone, my ideas go to die. Their haggard bodies litter the ground here conceived while showering, or doing busy-work… or just before I fall asleep only to dissipate like most all dreams do. It’s only been a few days since I last wrote something new, but already I can feel the words trying to slip away from me falling between my weary fingers like grains of sand sliding through an hourglass. Taunting me as the seconds grow, one by one until they morph all at once into an endless silence, enveloping the space around me and stealing away all but the sounds of my breath as it echoes softly. Audible, yet still saying nothing like this damnable blinking cursor on my word-pad. Were it only so easy, as making this cursor move. I could let myself fall asleep and lie my head down on my keyboard spilling my dreams onto the page as the weight of my skull is cradled by the soft pillows of depressed keys. Tearing the white away one drooling, snoring, tossing and turning letter at a time. Written 9/8/2024 @ 10:12pm by Alexander Learmont https://www.patreon.com/Elysianwing

[bigfeelinghuman]

Haunted

There was a version of myself That existed  when you didn't 

I search for her  in vain

my mind  has walled her off, Deemed her a foreign entity

and instead,  the version  That knew you has engulfed  my being 

I sense you  In everything:

The cool breeze  That mocks me  With memories of your warm embrace

The cruel trick Of memory Fills the still air  With your scent

Every object  you have touched Every word  you have spoken

All tainted  by your essence

But you are gone.

You have been  laid to rest I watched as  Your body was lowered Into the depths  Of the earth  Then sowed flowers Surrounding Your hedge, Guarding your rest

Yet you are anything  but resting in peace As your shadow  Looms over my mind

Is it because I Constantly visit your grave?

By my own fault  You have been tethered  To this realm of thought

Have my tears  Supplied you with life And allowed you To take supernatural form?

Because it seems your ghost Has found its home, Haunting me, In the unused corners of my mind