#emotional scene

[sdrose93]

THAT HUG 😭❤❤

[brittanyearnestauthor]

Crafting Emotional Scenes: A Writer's Guide

Writing emotional scenes can be intimidating for several reasons. For one, delving into sadness isn't always pleasant. Additionally, building a convincing emotional scene involves many layers. Since there is no universal method for this, each character should handle their emotions uniquely. Here’s a handy cheat sheet to help you create impactful emotional scenes that resonate with readers.

Tips for Writing Emotional Scenes:

1. Develop Unique Characters:

- When a character experiences loss, be it through death or a significant departure, they may feel a sudden heaviness in their chest. This sensation is often accompanied by difficulty breathing.

- Depending on the context, they might feel upset, betrayed, or as if their world is falling apart, struggling to envision a future without the person they've lost.

2. Ensure Relatability and Authenticity:

- Your characters should react in genuine ways, similar to real-life experiences. They might lose interest in activities they once enjoyed and experience a loss of appetite.

- To cope, they may immerse themselves in activities to distract from their pain, constantly staying busy to avoid thinking about the loss.

3. Capture the Pain of Memories:

- Insomnia may plague them as they replay memories of how things used to be. Every little reminder of the person they lost can make moving on seem impossible.

- Visiting familiar places to feel close to the lost person or even hoping to encounter them again can be a common coping mechanism.

4. Reflect on Love and Grief:

- Many people hope their loss is just a bad dream and struggle to accept the reality. As the truth sets in, they might reflect deeply on how much the lost person meant to them, realizing the irreplaceable value they had in their lives.

- The final understanding that they must move forward despite the pain is heart-wrenching but crucial for character development.

Following these guidelines can help you create scenes that deeply move your readers. Remember, writing is about experimenting and finding your own voice, so feel free to add elements that enhance your storytelling. If you think of other details that can add depth, don’t hesitate to include them. Writing is a journey, and each step helps you grow as a writer.

[galleryofart]

Arab Horseman Attacked by a Lion

Artist: Eugène Delacroix (French, 1798–1863)

Date: 1849–1850

Medium: Oil on panel

Collection: Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago, IL, United States

Description

Man and beast intertwine to form a single writhing body in this emotionally charged depiction of a lion attacking a horse and its rider. Through short, energetic brushstrokes and carefully manipulated contrasts of light and shadow, Eugène Delacroix imbued this imagined scene with action and drama. While many artists of the period explored the theme of man versus nature, depictions of Arab men entangled with wild animals served a specific propagandistic function, justifying the brutality of French colonial rule by depicting its subjects as violent and inhuman.

[underestimated-shadow]

What I’m listening to:

What I actually hear:

*Thunder clasps* I have come home, Master. This is no longer your home. And I’m no longer your master. Oh, yes, you have a new favorite. So, where is this Po? *chuckles* Did I scared him off? This battle is between you and me. So, that is how it’s going to be. That is how it must be. *growls* *fighting grunts* *breaks palace doors* I rotted in jail for 20 YEARS because of your weakness! Obeying your master is not weakness! You knew I was the Dragon Warrior! You always knew. But when Oogway said otherwise, what did you do? What did you do? Nothing! You were not meant to be the Dragon Warrior! That was not my fault! Not your fault?! Who filled my head with dreams?! Who droved me to train until my bones cracked?! WHO DENIED ME MY DESTINY?!! *fighting grunts* *growls* *blade hits the ground* It was never my decision to make! *snarls* …It is now. *grunting and fighting sounds* Give. Me. The scroll. I would rather die. *Oogway’s staff breaks* *more grunting and fighting sounds* *roof cracks* thunder clasps* *Tai Lung shouting* *Shifu hits the ground* *Tai Lung growls in slow motion* All I ever did, I did to make you proud! Tell me how proud you are, Shifu! Tell me! TELL ME!!! *punches* (…)*Shifu recovers* I have— I have always been proud of you. *sighs* From the first moment, I’ve been… proud of you. And it was my pride… that blinded me. I loved you too much to see what you were becoming. What I… was turning you into. I’m s… I’m sorry. (…) *snarls* I don’t want your apology. I want my scroll! What? WHERE IS IT?! Dragon Warrior has taken the scroll halfway across China by now. *strains* You will never see that scroll, Tai Lung. *claws unsheathe* Never. *strains* Never. HEY! *breathes heavily* Stairs. Who are you? Buddy, I am the Dragon Warrior. You? *chuckles* Him? He’s a panda. You’re a panda. What are you gonna do, big guy? Sit on me? Don’t tempt me, haha. No. I’m gonna use this. Haha! You want it? Come and get it.

[lapetiteceinturesworld]

Hi folks! I come today with a long, emotional and painful scene. ❤️

There was no emotion on Tommy's face. He didn't even have to bother pretending to be impassive. It was not isolation and not detachment. It was what it looked like: he had torn off the feelings as if they had never existed. As if he were not a human being. As if he knew himself not to be, that he could never be fully that again, and now he was showing it to her. He wanted her to see him through his transformation, Grace realised in disbelief. To make her disgust by it.

"The Germans. Soldiers just like me. The same toys on the blackboard, the size of which can never be comprehended by reason. Among them was the boy with the green eyes. They found their way out of the tunnels, through the mud, through the filth, took me back into the darkness, no matter how I fought with them. I looked down at my hand. It was covered in blood." His eyelids fluttered as if he wanted to look down at his hands resting palms up. Finally his gaze stayed where it was. By then the nihil of destruction had reached him. Everything was happening in his eyes. "I thought: whose hand is this? It cannot be mine. I can’t exist in a reality, where these hands belong to me just as any other parts of my body. A terrible, burning wave of pain washed over me from my shoulder. I was shot. I thought: finally. Finally I can lie down on the ground and die. All it need was a little bit more. But that little suddenly become too much." Hollowed-out, frozen dread, and burning fright like the fire that heats the blast furnaces of factories. "I opened my eyes, I was there again. Just me, Danny and Freddie. We fight for our lives like rats for the last piece of raw meat. I was writhing on the ground, in my nose a mixture of ammonia, gunpowder and some sludgy, sticky, disgusting mass, crawling to the ladder. Danny screamed, Freddie… I had no idea what had happened to him. I couldn’t make out anything in the darkness, not the shapes of people or the walls of the tunnels, I could only hear the voices and smell the smells. It was as if I had become blind. I begged with the last shreds of my faith for someone to gouge out my eyes, to save me from the ability to see this… I kept crawling and crawling, after a while I began to think that my legs were torn off, that I had no body anymore, but even then I didn’t give up. I clung to the pain, digging my nails into it through the darkness to stay conscious. Ever since Greta’s death, I’ve had this tainted, bile-tasting smell of sickness and death with me. "He shuddered, his face contorted in disgust. "I wanted to vomit. I think I did. I opened my mouth and then some hideous, unnamable taste filled my throat. I couldn’t breath he gasped. My shoulder was on fire. I wanted to die. All my prayers were for a German soldier to plunge his bayonet into me and bring me death. I wanted to give up, yet I dragging myself forward, because somewhere nearby was a ladder. If I could take my hand on it, I could climb to the surface and get out. In the end I never reached it" he breath out the last words.

Before Grace was aware of what she was doing, she was already observing that she had started a determined protest.

"Yes, you did! You left the tunnel behind. It feel’s like you still there, like you’re being swallowed up by the darkness, but you’re already here with me, in this actual, concrete reality." Both her hands were on Tommy's cheekbone, causing Tommy to blink rapidly. "Can you feel that? Because I feel you." Resisting the demand in her blood to put Tommy's face on a level with her own, to give him no choice but to look into her eyes. The words rolled from Grace's lips with a wild freedom. "You are warm and alive. The pain is gone. The bullet wound is here without looking," she traced with her fingers the bruised skin behind his shoulder, its jagged unevenness reminding them both of its origins. Tommy sucked in air, his chest rising. Grace's palm found its way back to his face. "This is real, Tommy. The tunnels, the suffering, the heat, the taste in your mouth, the green-eyes soldier boy can’t touch you. Those things can’t hurt you anymore, because I’m here. You and me, this place is real, safe and constant. We made it that way. You can touch it, you can feel it," she said urgently. "Everything else is in the past. Memories and fears."

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head. "They'll come for me again. I know they will," he repeated, his voice hushed. The shaking of his head stopped, his eyelashes fluttered open. "Whenever I close my eyes, they are already there."

"And I am here!" Tommy stared at her in bewilderment, and as she glanced into the irises surrounding the dilated pupils, Grace took the opportunity. She locked their eyes commandingly, blocking the chance of looking away from her, he couldn't even try. Her hold tightened on Tommy's cheek. She leaned toward him with a blazing glare. "In front of you, in your arms. If they want you, they'll have to ended me first! I will not give you without a fight!"

Tommy stared at her in a dazed stupor. "Would you fight them for me?"

Any other time the question would have left his lips with a hint of mocking, making it clear that the irony was as much his own as Grace's. But now it sounded as if it freed in him genuine hope, yearning, trust and fear. He didn't believe anyone would fight for him, Grace understood that early on. He knew that there was no one in the world who would dare to go with him to the field littered with the dead. Until now.

I'd fight the whole world for you, Grace thought. She managed a smile.

"No one's scarier than me when I'm in a rage."

The sound Tommy made was the equivalent of a snort and a sniffle. "My personal experience compels me to confirm this." A brilliant light flickered in his eye. His gaze warmed, but Grace kept her belligerent expression. She replied in an undertone of intimidation.

"Anyone irresponsible enough to hurt someone I'm trying to look after will learn very quickly, at the cost of a hard lesson, why that would be a terrible idea."

A shadow of a smile appeared on Tommy's lips to match his sparkling eyes. Grace relaxed against her will. The convulsive force of gripping Tommy's face in the palm of her hand was no longer tense in the joints between her fingers. Released from the grip of tension, she was still a little afraid that her gratification was premature. Caressing the skin of Tommy's cheekbone, her hesitation disguised as self-control.

"Do I enjoy your protection?" Tommy questioned. Curiosity accompanied the enquiry.

"I am your captain." The sentence followed the announcement included a raised eyebrow. "Do you dare question your superior officer, Sergeant Major?"

Without real devotion, Tommy smiled faintly. He stopped his rising hand in the air between their faces. He eyed Grace with reservations, concerns. Whatever he saw in her, and Grace really couldn't tell what it might be, she supplemented with a nod of agreement.

Tommy ran the back of his hand over her chin. On her cheek, he continued the endearing strokes inspired by kindness, affection and gratitude.

"I wouldn't do that. It is forbidden by military protocol. However, allow me to make an observation. Since you hold the rank of captain, shouldn't it be the other way around? The differences between our ranks dictate that my duty and purpose in life is your service and protection."

Grace had a more flexible view than that.

"No one in my jurisdiction can lay a hand on my people. Unconventional leadership is combined by peculiar principles." She lowered her voice and, tilting her head to one side, motioned toward the other side of the room. "Come back to bad!"

Tommy paused between stroking motions. "You say that like a commander to a member of her team?" There was something about the way he handled the words. It was as if he was testing the limits of this new formation, with which he had made friends at first sight.

Grace projected a seriousness worthy of it.

"I ask you as a woman who wishes to embrace her lover." Then, after a moment's thought, with half-lidded eyes, she approached Tommy. Her hand trailed down the side of his neck, evaded his mouth, touched her lips to his ear. "I miss your warmth," she murmured softly, invitingly.

Tommy's eyes closed. His resigned sigh had an amused theatricality that made them chuckle quietly.

[mazeppafanart]

My version of the ending

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Music when Korvo, Yumyulack, Jesse, Pupa, Cherie, Sonya, Ms. Perez and their Friends Call Out and chastise Beverly for Lashing Out at Terry over his Mundane Form and telling him everyone is better Off Without Him and that she said to him He’ll Always be a Monster, which Made the Solar Opposites gang disgusted and furious over What She Has Said and For Own Selfishness

For @avaveevo and @crazychanuwu77

[haleviyah]

You Can't Keep Me Here!

Commission for "CasterWay"!

This is actually part of an intense character arc that CasterWay is working on with his oc. Best of luck with the writing, and to be honest this is probably one of the most emotionally driven pieces I have done this year so far.

[infohub27]

Summary of “Verity”

Colleen Hoover’s Verity, a psychological thriller that has you questioning everything until the end! It follows Lowen Ashleigh, a struggling writer who is tasked with completing the remaining books of Verity for publishing. Brought in to finish off the final series of books from now-deceased bestseller Verity Crawford, Lowen walks into a spider web of psychological twists and turns.

The story starts when Lowen, a once successful yet currently struggling writer is approached for an impossible task. When she signs at a book store, an offer arrives so unanticipated that it would only be the conclusion to end all conclusions: end the untold series written by famous but now-bedridden Verity Crawford. Verity has been in a car accident and can neither write anything properly nor communicate effectively.    Read More…

[heartspin2023]

------------------ "I just don't want to be forgotten! " I hadn't intended to use my warped voice as my hands fluttered about, chest heaving as if weighted by more than just exerted breath. It was as if I was finally coming to terms with something that had been tormenting me unnamed for quiet some time. "Is being remembered all so important?" He was too calm, too serene. How could he be, in a time such as this? The memory of a door echoing shut reverberated within my soul, of my father laying to rest one final time- a mangled offering of what he once was -only a disfigured husk laid out for ceremony. "How- how can it not be?" For some reason I wasn't feeling as fired as a moment before, but that weight increased on my chest and I breathed all the more while I willed myself to fall into the space across from him. Firelight created deep shadows across the crags of his face, but it caught a glint in his almost sorrowful eyes. "It is not being forgotten that is important to us upon our passing," he nodded then, still not fully turning to me. He kept his eye to the mouth of the cave, and I considered maybe he was no longer fully talking to me," but too often. . .far far too often. . .do people try to instill themselves in the memory of the wrong people." I wasn't certian how to respond to this. What? The wrong people? Thankfully he didn't seem to be of few words, and continued on as if responding to the confusion that must be etched into my face. "Fame. Fortune. Even for honorable change. It is not the type of memory one really lives on in the hearts of others." He turned his eyes to me and I gave a gesture of confusion. "It is those who know you most, and love you in the best of ways that keep your memory pure." I swallowed hard, a pressure behind my eyes. He nodded, looking to me gravely," So now, you see how you and I are alike. I, too, have none who could lay such a claim to my soul."

------------------------

I had to write this scene really quick, since it will be some time before we are able to see it in Ascension. But we are getting the gears going on Wattpad, and there is already quiet a bit out- go check it out!

Thank you!

--Heartspin <3

[stargirl230]

thanks for the light

I was just trying to figure out how procreate works but then the op brainworms got to me and 35 hours later here we are! can you tell I miss home-cooked meals :')

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[thejournalofsoulsearching]

A girl sitting on a bed turned back and looking at the moon.

[lotus-pear]

11/20

[skramzwannabe]

Bracelets 😼

Xx

[khywren]

I'll be your mirror. What do you want to know?

[criiitter]

find me in the future.