#writing fight scenes is HARD

[azriona]

So I've rewritten this scene and I'm gonna need to rewrite it again because currently, the protagonists are having a ten-minute long conversation while the Bad Guys are standing there waiting for them to finish.

Bad Guys: You guys done yet? Can we please get back to the punching and the kicking now?

Good Guys: Nope.

Good Guys: *continue talking about candlesticks*

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

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[wasyago]

uhh umm uhm random stuff

[callsign-rogueone]

love at first fight - r.g.

Ridoc Gamlyn x marked!reader the first post of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 668 🏷: no book spoilers this time! sparring and some blood. no mention of reader’s gender / pronouns. I just have a feeling that Ridoc would be super attracted to someone who's dangerous and can handle themself in combat. this will be part one of a mini-series I have planned, hehe update: sequel is out, read here!

Ridoc commits your entire being to memory the moment he sees you step out of the crowd.

How had he not noticed you before? Everything about you is stunning; the muscle packed onto your legs, the way the rider’s black looks on your skin, and your unruffled demeanor -- you’re looking Jack Barlowe straight in the eye, unflinching. You might be one of three people in the class who aren’t terrified of the guy, who is itching to fight with you.

You strip off your jacket, handing it to the tall blonde beside you whose name he can’t remember, and Ridoc’s heart nearly stops at the sight of the swirling tattoo trailing up your left arm: you’re marked.

If you’re as strong as the rest of your friends -- and you certainly look to be -- this is going to be a good matchup, but he’s still on edge. Barlowe has already garnered a reputation for fighting dirty; he’s tried to kill every one of his opponents thus far in the term, and judging by his visible disgust at your rebellion relic, you won’t be an exception.

Your friend says something to you quietly, advice or a soft reassurance, and you take your place on the mat, shaking out your limbs.

Barlowe lunges at you the second the professor says go, and you make no move to stop him. Do you have a death wish or something?

Evidently not. You kick out at the last second, catching him in the stomach, and he skids back a few feet. He quickly pushes forward again, and you land a punch directly to his jaw and another to his ribs. If he wasn’t mad already, he definitely is now. 

He tackles you to the floor, his fist catching the side of your mouth, and you hiss in pain. You grab the hilt of the dagger at his side and pull, yanking it from its sheath and pointing it at him in warning.

He wraps a hand around your wrist, twisting and pushing back at an awkward angle. Rather than struggle over the dagger, you let it fall and kick it aside, sending it spinning across the floor. If you can’t have it, he can’t either.

You kick out again, hitting him where it hurts and shoving him back onto the mat, rising onto your knees. You pull two more blades from the leather straps that circle your thighs, pressing one to his throat and the other to his side.

He yields, but everyone can tell he’s pissed, and that he won’t be letting this go anytime soon. He retreats to the other side of the gym, still smoldering.

Ridoc picks up the short blade that had landed at his feet, extending the hilt to you silently -- by the rules of the Codex, it’s yours to keep as a trophy.

You smile at him with a split lip, the only wound you’d sustained in the fight, taking it and tucking it at your thigh alongside the ones you’d threatened Jack with. “Thanks.”

He nearly falls over at the sound of your voice, soft and sweet in contrast to the hardened soldier persona you’d displayed on the mat.

You return to your squad, leaning against the wall to watch the next match. Blonde guy -- Liam? Lucas, maybe? No, definitely Liam. -- hands you your jacket, but you don’t put it back on, draping it over one arm instead.

Liam holds up five fingers, and you shake your head, holding up four: it had taken you four blows to bring Barlowe down. “New record,” you mouth, smug.

Ridoc’s eyes still don’t leave you even as two cadets start throwing punches directly in front of him. 

“I smell a crush,” Rhiannon says slyly. 

“We need to unpack why you’re only attracted to people who could kill you, dude,” Sawyer adds. “I’m legitimately concerned.”

His friends’ comments go in one ear and out the other. Deadly or not, he’d do anything to have you smile at him like that again.

[to-the-all-blue]

Sanji fending off a mind-controlled Zoro to protect the crew and ending up skewered to a building like Aizen in Bleach send tweet

[valtsv]

i guess i HAVE to finish that VALshrue fic now. both of them in fact.

[true-blue-sonic]

for the ship number game; espilver, number 20? 👀🙏

20. …on a scar.

Silver figures his chest probably doesn't look very good if Espio's distraught face is any indication.

"It doesn't hurt," slips past his lips with practiced ease. "Only right after Infinite sent me flying. My back's hurting worse."

Espio doesn't say anything in return. Instead his hands clasp one of Silver's, and the hedgehog is sure he can feel a tremble in them, for just a moment. Such worrying is not needed, he wants to tell Espio, though he knows his beloved will not listen to that. But if Silver hadn't distracted Infinite in the jungle, who knows what that monster would have done with their forces fighting a losing battle amidst the burning foliage and the relentless explosions? A whack right against his chest with claws as sharp as glass and a crash into a wall and then the ground weigh far less heavy than all the people's lives when it comes to suffering and hurt.

Except the way Sonic had winced when limping back to Silver after losing his battle with Infinite and sending his collapsed body a look clings to Silver's mind still. And the sheer panic from everyone in the Resistance headquarters when Sonic had rushed them both to their hideaway, Silver sprawled out over his back and feeling too feeble to really move much, does too.

Stupid, the hedgehog sighs. He should have just walked the final few hundred meters, or at least through the hallway of their headquarters. Now everyone is panicking about how Infinite managed to injure two of their best fighters, and Espio had been the most distressed of all.

"Those wounds might scar," the chameleon mumbles out after a while. "They're quite deep."

"They won't. I've been through worse and you can hardly see that on me," Silver retorts, shoulders squaring up; to convince Espio and himself alike. "And even if it does, what does it matter? It's just a scar. I'm proud to wear them if it means I saved people."

Espio shakes his head slowly. "I'm... glad you're okay with it. I'm glad you're okay."

"Hmhm. No worrying about me, alright? We're in the middle of a war, we've got way too much other stuff to do."

That earns him a snort, at least, the chameleon leaning closer and Silver gladly nuzzling their faces together. Infinite could never understand this, he's sure: how could the world not be made of hope if people can be together like this, protecting and cherishing each other while never giving up on their dreams? How could there not be love and kindness, if Espio exists and cradles him close like he's the most important person on the planet? "Ever practical, you. But before that you will rest, tenshi. You need it," he gets commanded, Espio's lips pressing against his cheek first. And then, ever so carefully, they move down, to Silver's mane and then the four lines carved into his flesh, a most fleeting kiss pressed just above each. "And you'll give these time time to heal," his beloved adds, pleading seriousness in his gaze. "Please."

"For you," Silver agrees with ease, because he can't say no to Espio. But with his beloved here, he's sure those wounds will recover before he knows it; and any scars that are left after this war is over, Silver won't mind at all, and he knows Espio won't love him less for it either.

They're a sign Infinite is wrong, and that alone could not make Silver prouder to carry them, and he knows Espio feels the same.

[morbethgames]

37k words into the current update and not even halfway done yet.

ilovefightscenesilovefightscenesilovefightscenesilovefightscenesilovefightscenesilovefightscenesilovefightscenesilovefightscenes

[the-woman-upstairs]

Just thinking about, in Fallout, how frightened for his life Benji is when they learn that Ilsa’s after Lane and how nothing will stop her from killing him, but Ethan promises to protect him. And then you get to the final showdown against Lane and it’s actually Ilsa that fights to save Benji’s life!

[lialox]

"ORV saved me" well it almost killed me fr.

Earlier this year, I was daydreaming about it and got into a car accident. Bad enough that the car itself was a write off.

...and my unhinged ass was literally like "oooohh I've never been in shock before, let's memorize this moment and use it as writing inspo!"

[waitineedaname]

One thing that I think muddies the water re: SQQ acting like a buffoon is that he’s much more physically expressive in the donghua? In a very comical and memorable way, like chugging the medicine he tries to give Luo Binghe when the system is about to doc him points, noticing it’s for external use only, and then visibly fainting in front of Ming Fan and Luo Binghe. He’s much more of a clown, and it’s mostly in good fun, even if it’s not accurate to the book. Thinking about it more, my ideal adaptation would have SQQ properly maintaining his immortal facade at all times, but also include an expressive chibi version of himself acting out his inner thoughts and yelling at the system constantly. Only the audience would see his flailing, and also probably SQH when he’s introduced. Also! Showing him get more expressive with Binghe as book 3 goes on and he lets out more of his real personality around him.

that's a really good point about the donghua! I'm charmed by how SQQ is in the donghua because he's such a fucking loser (affectionate) but it definitely isn't very accurate to the novel. tbh the difference between SQQ's inner monologue vs outward appearance/actions is one of the things that makes it hard to adapt from a written form! having a little chibi SQQ to express his inner thoughts is an option, or hiding his expressions behind his fan or waiting until he's alone to scream into a pillow or something lsdkjflksdjf it's tough! it's really one of those things that works best as a book, which is such a shame because GOD i want to see so much of it visually

also him being more expressive with Binghe as their relationship develops is really good :') especially post-canon! Binghe complains that SQQ smiles more at other people, can you imagine what it'll be like once SQQ starts letting more of those walls down and fully grins at him while teasing him? I think Binghe would just straight up short circuit for a second

[punch-love]

Hello!! I’m in your inbox because I want to ask of what advice you may give in writing a heated argument that sounds realistic and genuine instead of cheesy/ shallow?

I think your fic love-punch has some really amazing lines of dialogue where the two character are able to fit both a genuine hostility for each other as well as hilarious banter, and the combination of the two is just so potent and rich with character dynamics?? (Also acquired taste with the back and forth of deadpools intimidation and Peter trying to maintain his composure with deflection and jokes)

Just wanted to pick your brain on how you come up with those kind of lines since I’m always struggling with imagining good dialogue for characters

Sorry if this was confusing to read I wrote it pretty late into the night

I've been thinking on this and I think my biggest advice is make it personal. I think what makes a combative conversation sound shallow or cheesy is when the dialogue is so nondescript that you could swap out any number of characters without the audience noticing. If you think back to a fight you enjoyed on-screen, can you remember what the characters were saying? Why?

If you can, it's probably because what they were saying was personal enough to give you something of a reaction. Think of a couple fighting in public, there's a pretty typical script that couples go off of ("you're always late! you never pay attention to me! you never compliment me!") that we kind of treat as background noise, but when it gets personal (re: interesting) that's when our nosy nature catches attention. He did WHAT? She said WHAT?

When it gets personal, when it gets outrageous, when it gets genuinely fucked - that's when we lock in. Your dialogue should reflect that. When you read something, you're essentially a fly on a conceptual wall. Your job as a writer is to keep the fly in place, enraptured by the view. What would make someone stay to listen to your fictional argument?

It's also important to consider the characters and how they deal with high-stress, high-risk situations. Are they funny? Are they defensive? Do they try to psyche their opponent out? Do they get more or less talkative depending on whether they're winning/losing? Then, profile the person they're fighting and figure out where they're similar and (this is the most important part) where they're different. I like to approach dialogue as a sparring match. The opponents aren't always evenly matched, but they usually have very different approaches to the fight and when they play dirty, things get more interesting.

Also, to be transparent, I think a good sense of humor and wit helps a lot. It's important to understand tone, delivery, and most importantly - the audience. If you're not someone who tries to make people laugh , then observe people who do. If there's someone in your life you find really funny, take a second to figure out why. Is it the emphasis? The way they're able to turn anything into a joke? Humor is an intellectual practice, it takes some degree of smarts to be actually funny. If you are someone who likes to make people laugh, then consider your process and figure out how you can translate that into writing.

I think to sum up: think about what grabs your attention and capitalize on it, make the fight personal enough that you couldn't swap the dialogue out and have it be between two entirely different characters with little to no difference. Understand what makes you funny (or the funniest person you know funny) and figure out the patterns. Understand the characters approach to conflict and how it's similar and how it clashes, and capitalize on the clash.

Ultimately, when it comes to writing dialogue, I don't actually don't think too hard about it when I'm doing the actual writing. I think about it a lot during the editing process, though. If it doesn't make laugh or drive my attention, I will re-work it until it does. Don't be afraid to work at something until it clicks.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

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[s0fter-sin]

this is a bit of a what if scenario if soap and ghost met before the practice studio and the rest can be found on ao3!

before they ever try and workshop a routine, before their first dance, before johnny ever meets simon, price tells - orders - ghost to sit in on one of gaz’s classes.

“learn his style; see if yours meshes anywhere,” he says, wrist deep in an exploded camera and ignoring ghost’s stink eye from over in the corner. he’s gotten used to it after all these years.

he’ll have to pull out something new after this if price’s decided to sink to this level of petty.

and it is pettiness, no mistake; clearly he’s poked him too much about his boy recently.

“i’ve already seen ‘is style,” he dismisses with a disgusted scoff that’s only half put on. flashy, meaningless; the personification of viral with half the sincerity. it’s a laugh that garrick accuses him of stealing routines as if half his moves aren’t prepackaged and recycled from every plastic clout chaser before him.

“videos don’t live up to an in-person demonstration; you know that,” price chides and ghost rolls his eyes. “i’ve got a client making noises about choreography and if i can’t talk ‘em out of it, you’ll have to learn how to be in the same room without bein’ at each other’s throats.”

“they want a joint routine?” ghost demands, already going tense at just the idea of it.

“they want the best of the best,” price counters. “and unfortunately, that’s you two.”

he pulls out a part, friction-shiny and jagged where it’s rubbed against another piece, and flicks it over his shoulder to be lost in the mess of the garage. “you know, that breakdancer i showed you ‘ill probably be there.”

he raises an eyebrow but ghost doesn��t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. wily old man…

he asks about one dancer once and suddenly he’s all price wants to bloody talk about. it was professional interest; just looking into a style out of his wheelhouse and obviously it made sense to look at recent competition winners.

nothing more.

“i’m not asking you to join in,” price finally allows, pulling out a file and tapping off old shavings on the edge of the toolbox. “just watch. live up to that name of yours.”

“i got better things to do than haunt your little protégé,” he scoffs, chafing at the thought of wasting any more time on kyle garrick than he already has.

“and yet here you are, sniffin’ up my ass,” he shoots back wryly and ghost shoves off the wall; ignoring his snickers.

“play nice,” price adds but he’s already out the door.

if he asks later, he can just say he didn’t hear him.

[indiestsnake]

writing arti is great bcuz she essentially has borderline personality disorder and about ten thousand conflicting thoughts and emotions rattling around in her head at all times

so she is constantly both in and out of character cuz her character is very complicated

and my personal self-doubt is not having fun with that

[byoldervine]

Wow for a story that has a lot of fight scenes I really don’t know how to write fight scenes