how to write a scene

anonymous asked:

gratitude O

O: the stars or space


The Reach fleets didn’t spend as much time in space as some may have thought. Although it varied from fleet to fleet, the majority of the time the ships would be stationed on world. It was easier to get their test subjects on board that way (and easier to hide the fleet, if necessary).

So Yalut found herself somewhat mesmerized by the sight of clear, unfiltered space when she passed by one of the hallway’s windows, her particular fleet on route back to Reach Homeworld after their latest invasion. It would be the same routine: after arriving on Homeworld and presenting the results they had made, the fleet would be granted a brief reprieve from duty, and then a new invasion would begin when they were sent to a planet that was determined to best suit the fleet’s strengths.

But at this moment, there was little for to do other than keep an eye on the test subjects, and that was more of a job for her technicians. Overall, her work was done, and so Yalut allowed herself a moment to stop. To breathe, and just take in the sight.

The white specks of stars glimmered, some in groups, others far apart, surrounded by hues of pink, purple and blue cosmic dust that clustered together, becoming thinner as they spread out, splotches of color against a pure black backdrop. From the view from the window, space panned over slowly as the ship moved past, new designs and patterns appearing from one end and vanishing at the other.

Although Yalut was largely neutral on something like space, after being stuck on a planet where the sky was a mass of red gas clouds and black ash that got everywhere for months on end, the sight of the pure vastness of space was a welcome change of pace.

She had only meant to stop for a few moments, but every time Yalut decided it was time to move on, she found something new to admire about the scene.

Yalut had become more lost in the sight than she had realized, because when she finally became aware of the presence behind her, two black armored arms wrapped around her and pulled her back against a broad chest. She couldn’t help the small noise of surprise she made, brief panic shifting into mild annoyance when she realized what was going on. She didn’t need to bother looking up; there was only one person in the fleet with armor like that (or who would dare hold her like that).

“Did I surprise you?” Dawur asked.

“Wouldn’t your scarab be able to tell?” she replied, still annoyed with how he had caught her off-guard.

“Actually, I was able to tell well enough from your reaction.”

“Then why do you need to ask?”

“Just wanted some verbal confirmation,” said Dawur, laughing a little when Yalut tried to dig her elbow into his side (why she continued to do that, neither of them knew, as it always hurt her more than it did him).

Yalut huffed, leaning back against him when it was clear that he wasn’t going to let go. She still didn’t look up at him, bringing her attention back to the view outside the window.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just space.”

Dawur hummed, resting his chin on top of her head as he looked out the window as well. The clusters of colored dust were becoming more frequent, clumping up together and almost blocking out the black of space behind them. There was more blue showing up now, and the clouds seemed to be drawn downwards, as if they were being pulled by something.

“The remains of a dead star,” said Dawur.

“How do you know?” asked Yalut.

“The way the clouds have been formed,” he answered. “Most likely a few thousand years ago the star exploded, and the debris has been spreading through space ever since.”

Yalut hummed in thought, then turned her head to look back at him, looking at him for the first time since he had arrived.

“Is that something you knew, or something the scarab told you?” she asked.

Dawur’s eyes widened a little, and he opened his mouth to respond before shutting it, looking away from her. He then glanced behind him, his eyes narrowing into a glare.

“I’m going to guess that it was the latter,” said Yalut.

Both of you be quiet,” Dawur mumbled.

Yalut laughed, and settled back against his chest.

They stood there watching for a while after that.

Anon asked: “I get all these plot ideas in my head, but I really struggle with writing them down in words, to sit down and actually write, partly because I usually think too much whenever I try to write (like how the grammar is and how it sounds etc) and I always think it all sounds so slow and boring when I write my ideas down… which leads me to just “write” the story in my head instead of actually writing it :/. Do you’ve any advice on how to stop doing that? Because it’s really frustrating!”

Originally a question for It’s a Writer Thing, but it was decided that answering it on this blog would be better for the less technical answer and the more actionable answer!

This answer will cover two reasons why my suggestion works, and one alternative if you don’t like the first piece of advice.

-       You Need to Stop Caring So Much

Your main problem is you’re overthinking things, which is natural, because you want this scene to be perfect. As perfect as it was in your head, and every moment it doesn’t do that, you become more frustrated and your creativity is more stifled.

Those grammar and word choices worries aren’t about grammar or word choice – it’s your mind battling with the cosmic issue of scientists not getting off their butts and creating a device that projects thoughts onto paper yet. There’s nothing wrong with your writing. You have created an impeccable scene in your head, and the more impeccable it is, the more dissatisfied you’ll be with writing it.

-       So, the solution:

Drink wine. No, seriously. Carve out an evening to yourself, put on some music that inspires you to write or that serves as the background music of a scene you want, get a glass of wine (or three), and sit down.

Drink the first glass of wine.

Play the music and start brainstorming the scene. Let it play out in your head. Let yourself get a little crazy in the details because you’re not writing yet, you’re brainstorming.

If you smoke, have a cigarette, and start on the second glass of wine.

Now start writing.

-       Why This Works

Wine takes the edge off. Stronger alcohol can work too, because it’s called liquid courage for a reason. It makes you stop CARING so much if it’s perfect, so that your mind can relax enough to actually write the scene as good as it can be. If you drink too much, then you’ll have problems with the keys, so know your own limit and drink just until you just have that nice buzz that makes you not so upset if this draft turns out less than satisfactory.

Trust me, when you look at it later, it will be 80% better than you thought it’d be.

-       The Sectioned Off Evening Itself Does Wonders

Knowing that you are just messing around with the scene for the next few hours – that it doesn’t have to be perfect; that it doesn’t have to be really anything, since you’re just having an enjoyable writing session – will take half the edge off.

You’re not here to do miracles – you’re here to chill out with a nice glass of wine and enjoy yourself! Even if you just brainstorm it in your head and write down notes to fill out later, that’s for later! You accomplished something. Good for you.

-      If You Don’t Drink

That’s fine. I’m not telling anyone to start drinking if they don’t like it, or encouraging alcoholics to fall off the bandwagon for the sake of a scene. … unless it’s a really good scene.

I jest.

The key is to chill out. So whatever makes you relax, calm down, and cast off the more anxious side of yourself, do it.

If you smoke, have a cigarette. Or five.

If you like a warm bath, get a notebook and try your best to keep it dry, or if you have nerves of steel, take your chances with the laptop.

If chocolate eases your nerves, get a bag of Hersey’s Kisses and go for it.

Just remember that you have to not only kill that usual tension that life brings, but you have to go one step further to make your inner critic decide to quiet down for the night.

-       To Wrap Around

The key is to calm down. Then calm down some more. Calm down clear to the point where your “give a damn” function is disabled for the night. You can accomplish some pretty amazing things when you don’t care so much. Then the scene at least has words on it – and you can always work with a bad scene, but never a nonexistent scene.

Hope this helps!

The 7 Elements of a SCENE

There are few things as soul-crushing in the writing process (at least to me) than getting a bunch of characters in a room with the intention of something happening, then the characters proceed to stand around and stare at each other.  

Or worse, look at you like this. 

My characters didn’t know why they were there. I didn’t know why they were there either. I had no clue what they were supposed to be doing, so I’d start throwing random instructions at them: “Fight, characters! You guys should fight now! Maybe fighting will make this event have a purpose!” Which inevitably resulted in characters going through the motions of battle for no apparent reason, like they had all lost their minds.

What was the problem? I didn’t know how to write a scene. I didn’t know what a scene was. I had a vague definition that it was something about changing scenery, or just “something happening”.

It’s not. And once I learned what a scene was, my characters got to stop pummeling each other, while wishing they could pummel me. 

So what is a scene? 

The definition of a scene is kind of like the definition of a story. Story is change, a massive change in the life of your main character. A scene is change too, but much smaller, and part of that huge story change. You couldn’t have the BIG change without these tiny changes. Thus, a scene is not switching scenery. It’s not flipping to a new Character’s POV. It’s one segment of change, which triggers the next change, which triggers the next, which gradually build into sequences, which build into Acts, which build into story. 

So what goes into a scene? How does it work?

1. Alternating Charges

If a scene opens positive, it will turn negative by the end. If it opens negative, it will end positive. Simple. 

2. Character Goals

Everybody in a scene wants something. If they don’t want anything, they shouldn’t be in the scene. And these characters, with their often opposing goals, are going to employ different tactics on each other to get what they want. Which creates …

3. Escalating Conflict

Conflict is created when one character wants one thing and another wants something else, right? So the characters in the scene are each pushing for something different, each new tactic increasing in determination. And what are these actions called?  

4. Beats

The beats of a scene are exchanges of action and reaction. One character does something, another character reacts. All exchanges (beats) are pushing the scene onward, building tension and conflict, until finally …

5. Turns & Revelations

The scene turns. The positive has changed to negative. Something has been discovered. The story has spun in a new direction.

6. Connection to Story Objective

Every scene must be connected to the BIG goal of the story, the main character is taking small actions to reach that big goal. If it isn’t obviously connected to this big plot, it won’t make sense. Your reader won’t know why the heck they’re reading the scene. Which brings us to … 

7. Logic & Necessity  

Every scene must be necessary. It must be able to be linked with the previous scene. “Because that happened in the previous scene, THIS must happen in this scene.”

So! To see how that all works, let’s break down a scene from Tangled. (Because I used it in the last post to map out how a premise works, and my little writer heart can’t resist symmetry.)

Which scene? The one right after this happens: 

Opening Charge: Positive. She’s realized everything. 

Rapunzel’s Goal: Rise up against her mother – finally. 

Gothel’s Goal: Regain control.

Escalating Conflict: They’re fighting over who controls Rapunzel, and this battle causes them to go from “mother and daughter” to “enemies”. The conflict builds nicely in this scene, causing the story turn.

Connection to Story Objective: Throughout the movie, the big thing Rapunzel wants is freedom, she wants her life to begin, she wants to have a new dream. This is the moment she figures out how to do that; it’s not escaping the tower, it’s escaping Gothel’s control over her.

So! Here’s the scene.

Beat 1

“Rapunzel? Rapunzel, what’s going on up there?”

Ignores her. Still processing the tremendous implications of this revelation. 

Beat 2

“Are you alright?" 

"I’m the lost princess.” (Dumbfounded. Almost whispering it to herself.)

Beat 3

“Oh, please speak up Rapunzel! You know how I hate the mumbling.” (Bullying.)

“I am the lost princess! Aren’t I?” (Fighting back. She will not be bullied anymore.)

Beat 4

Gothel stares, stunned. She’s rendered temporarily speechless, because her secret’s been revealed finally, and her victim is actually fighting against her.

“Did I mumble, Mother? Or should I even call you that?” (Accusing. Drawing herself up taller. Looking down on Gothel and glaring. She’s seeing her clearly for the first time in her life.)

Beat 5

After a pause, thinking up a tactic. “Oh, Rapunzel, do you even hear yourself? How could you ask such a ridiculous question?” (Laughs. Ridicules. Attempts to make her feel childish, dumb, worthy of being mocked. Tactics which have always worked. She even begins to hug her.)

Rapunzel pushes her. “It was you! It was all you!” (Still accusing and angry, but pain is beginning to show. It’s almost like she’s giving her a chance to explain herself.)

Beat 6

“Everything I did was to protect you.” (And Gothel doesn’t say anything redeeming. She’s holier than thou, regal, bestowing kindness on an ungrateful, stupid child. Trying to control through guilt.)

Rapunzel rams her out of the way. 

Beat 7

“Rapunzel!” (Shouting. Now trying anger.)

“I’ve spent my entire life hiding from people who would use me for my power …” (Leaves her.)

Beat 8

"Rapunzel!” (Still trying the anger angle.)

“But I should have been hiding from you.” (Throwing the truth at her.)

Beat 9

“Where will you go? He won’t be there for you.” (She’s tried everything else. It’s time to attack her heart.)

“What did you do to him?” (Fear)

Beat 10

“That criminal is to be hanged for his crimes.” (She’s keeping up the disapproving mother act, but striking her right where it will hurt her most.)

“No.” (She’s stopped. Shrinking in on herself. Staring, horrified. And Gothel thinks she’s won.)

Beat 11

“Now, now.  It’s alright. Listen to me. All of this is as it should be.” She goes to pat Rapunzel’s head, a gesture symbolic of her superiority, her physical, mental, and emotional control over her victim.

Rapunzel grabs Gothel’s wrist. “No! You were wrong about the world. And you were wrong about me! And I will never let you use my hair again!" 

Beat 12

Gothel wrenches free, stumbling backwards in shock and anger, breaking the mirror in the process. 

Rapunzel walks away. She’s escaped Gothel emotionally now.

Beat 13

"You want me to be the bad guy? Fine. Now I’m the bad guy.” (Well, now emotional control is over. It’s time to start stabbing Rapunzel’s boyfriend.)

This action has no reaction, interestingly. It leaves us hanging, a cliffhanger created with only beats. 

Closing Charge: Negative. She’s now a full-fledged villain, the motherly persona shed, and she’s determined to get what she wants whatever the cost. 

Turn: It changed from positive to negative,  and now we’ve got a Flynn-stabbing witch to deal with.  

Revelation: She’s always been evil. She has always been the bad guy. The motherly act was just that, an act. 

Logic & Necessity: This scene fits with the previous scene, and the one that follows.     

Though I’ve seen these concepts in many books, the place I first learned about it (and the best resource for scene design in my opinion) is the book Story by Robert McKee. It’s helped me countless times, is one of my favorite books on storytelling, and I highly recommend it if you write anything.

I realize that these definitions were a little vague, so I’ll be explaining things more thoroughly in subsequent posts. 

How to Write Kiss Scenes

So an anon asked us to give some tips for kiss scenes…and I’m gonna give it a try!

Rule #1: Before

What happens before they kiss. Is there a conversation going on? An emotional reunion? An intimate moment? Describe what the characters are doing to lead up to the kiss or to them wanting to kiss.

Rule #2: Eye Contact

What are they looking at? Each other? The ground? The sky? Eyes are the gateway to the soul, remember? Use that to your advantage. How are they looking at each other. What do they feel when they do?

Rule #3: Body Language

How are they moving? Describe what character is doing what. Are they jittery or calm? Happy or sad? What emotions are showing through their body language? Who leans in first? Where are their hands??

Rule #4: The Kiss

Now for the big thing. How do they go into the kiss? Is it fast or slow at first? Does one grab the other’s face or is it mutual and they both lean in till their lips touch. Explain how their lips meet then show what kind of kiss it is! Is it awkward? Sloppy? Romantic? Fierce? Angry? Sad? DESCRIBE is the most important thing in this because you want to let the reader know what is going on and what is happening. Are they making out? Is it a peck? How long does it last, but don’t make any kiss too long and too detailed. We don’t need gross stuff guys…Well let’s say we don’t need three whole pages of just these two making out.

Rule #5: Afterward

What happens now? The kiss is done. It’s happened. How have they reacted? Are they shocked? Angry? In love? Explain what they’re feeling after this. Are they feeling exposed in a way or awkward? Is there sexual tension or any tension at all? Do they say anything or does one run away. This is an important step just like the others because it is still full of feeling.

After this you have succeeded in making two characters show some affection :) not every kiss scene is the same but for big ones I usually focus on those rules and they’re pretty helpful.

Hope I helped! Happy writing!

Kiss Scenes 101: How To Write The Perfect Kiss

Anonymous said: Hey there. Not sure what kind of questions you accept but…here goes. Do you have any tips for writing kiss scenes? Not fluffy kiss scenes but really passionate ones. Thanks!

I was hoping to post this on Valentine’s Day, but I got a little busy so it got pushed back. Happy (late) Valentine’s Day, and enjoy!

|| 1 || Detail. Remember that describing a kiss means including more detail than just what is happening and when. Be sure to include description of how the protagonist’s five senses are being affected, as well as some other elements such as:

  • What the protagonist smells
  • What the protagonist tastes
  • What the protagonist hears
  • What the protagonist sees
  • The inner monologue of the protagonist, if the point of view in your story allows it.

|| 2 || Make the kiss(es) realistic. Situational details are a key factor in making the scene more satisfying and memorable. Pay attention to details like the character’s physical characteristics, such as glasses, braces, messy hair, etc. and incorporate those tiny details into the scene.

She turned her head to the left, leaning in to brush her lips against her partner’s, but was interrupted when their noses bumped together, making them both giggle, and the awkwardness fade away.

I mean, sure, that’s not the best example, but at least it’s better than:

Their lips collided, and they made out flawlessly, as if they were in a Nicholas Sparks novel.

Little details like bumping noses, giggling, grinning like an idiot, stumbling, hesitating, etc. can make the scene so much better.

|| 3 || It doesn’t always have to be a full on make out session every time two characters kiss. A lot of the time, kisses are short and sweet and that can be enough to send a substantial spark to the fingers and toes, and send the reader out smiling. Pecks, if only on the cheek, can be more than enough and are extremely underrated.

|| 4 || Pay attention to what your characters do with the rest of their bodies. Kissing is in no way just about the mouth. Keep in mind that most of the time, people don’t just lean forward and mush their faces together. Grab the face, caress the lower back, hold their hand, hell, sweep them off their feet and carry them into the sunset! Don’t just stand there!

|| 5 || Lastly, but not VOCABULARY. Using the right wordage can improve your kiss scene-no, scratch that- ANY SCENE a million times better. I’ve made an entire post on vocabulary and synonyms to use for your sex/kiss scenes {shameless plug} and you can find it: 


|| 6 || Read kiss scenes as a writer would. Read kiss scenes that you’ve enjoyed and nitpick them to find what you do and don’t like about them, adding the good things to your own scene and being wary of the bad. 

And now, here are some extra tips to get you going:

 I. Practice - If you’re in a relationship or have a really great friend {;)}, practice the act and take notes on how it actually feels! A lot of people who read these kiss scenes take it as the reality because some have never kissed anyone, so teach them how it’s done!

II. Know your characters - Would they actually bite their partner’s lip like that? Would they actually go as far as caressing the majestical inner thigh? Think about it.

III. Add elements of the setting - Are your characters standing in the middle of a crowd? In a high school hallway? Elevator? Include details like sounds and smells and lighting to give the reader a more full-sensory experience.

IV. Dialogue can be fun to play with - Kissing doesn’t always have to be silent. Maybe they break for a second to say “You’re so beautiful” or “Did you pop a mint when I wasn’t looking, oh sneaky one?”. Include those little mutterings or comments because they are some of the best parts.

V. Have someone you trust read it - If you’ve got a good friend who will be honest, have them read and suggest edits. Google docs is fantastic for having your friends read and help you edit your work, because you can change the setting to “suggest edits” and you can see everything they’ve suggested without permanently altering the scene.

Another Phone Call
  • Molly: *rolls over in bed to grab and answer her ringing mobile* Hello? This is Dr. Molly Hooper.
  • Sherlock: Molly, it's me. I'm using a different phone.
  • Molly: *sighs heavily* Right, what now?
  • Sherlock: I just need you to do something very easy for me.
  • Molly: *clenches her jaw* Are you trying to be funny, Sherlock? When you said that earlier today there was nothing easy about it.
  • Sherlock: Yes, but now I mean it. Because all I need you to do now is listen. Can you do that?
  • Molly: Well...yes.
  • Sherlock: Good. *exhales* You count to me, Molly, so very much. And I trust you. I trust you with my work, with my secrets, and with my very life. You matter more than most of the other people that inhabit this entire planet. You are unique, intelligent, brave, and puzzling to me in the best sort of way. And you're beautiful; so very beautiful in every way a person can be. And...I love you, Molly...I love you.
  • Molly: *speechless*
  • Sherlock: Molly?
  • Molly: Y-yes I'm here.
  • Sherlock: Good.
  • Molly: *her voice unsteady* And...was that it?
  • Sherlock: Yes, that was all I needed you to do.
  • Molly: *softly* Ok.
  • Sherlock: Well...goodnight, Molly.
  • Molly: Wait! Sherlock, can you do something for me now?
  • Sherlock: Anything.
  • Molly: *pauses* Come to my flat please.
  • Sherlock: ...right now?
  • Molly: Yes, now please. Because...I'm not saying it over the phone this time.
FanFic Ask Game

A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

C: What member do you identify with most?

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

H: How would you describe your style?

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

Q: How do you feel about collaborations?

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

X: A character you enjoy making suffer.

Y: A character you want to protect.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

Joker x Harley Quinn: Bye, Bye Birdie

Harley Quinn sat in the Joker’s lap. They both had their arms linked around each other’s bodies, still addicted to the other as Harley was only a week old. They were in the Joker’s office, across from Mr. J was a giant crocodile man and Harley was told to be quiet while he worked. She had tuned out the conversation and instead was admiring the Joker’s fit body.

“Boys,” Mr. J called to his henchmen suddenly, “Would you kindly escort Mr. Croc out? He looks a little clammy he might need to return to his swamp.” Joker laughed, wrapping his other arm around Harley’s waist and pulling her closer. The henchmen left the room with crocodile man, as soon as the door shut Joker angled his face up towards Harley.  

“You were so good during my meeting.” He purred close to her lips, “Daddy’s so proud.”

“Thank you, puddin.” Harley blushed, “Can we go back to bed now?”

He purred her name, “My baby is so eager for me.”

“Can you blame me?” She opened her mouth and bit down into a smile right to his lips.

“No, but there is something that I want to talk to you about.” He said pausing to kiss her neck. “Harley, baby,” The Joker purred after his lips left her skin, “I have an important mission for us. It’s something I’ve been planning for months and daddy decided that it would be the perfect way to introduce you to the world! To the Bat!” He laughed, running his hands over her legs.

“What is it puddin?” Harley bounced in his lap, excited to finally meet the Bat. She had heard great things.

Harley fastened the brunette wig and took a few steps back to look at her outfit in the full length mirror, scowling. Black pants, a long-sleeved purple blouse, and black combat boot heels. Harley gagged, it was so normal. Mr. J wouldn’t notice her in a crowd with this on. She had to turn away from the mirror. Disgusted by her boring outfit, she walked into the bathroom to put bronzer on her exposed chalk white skin. She had to make it look like she hadn’t fallen into ace chemicals. She was just getting done with her makeup when the Joker walked into the bathroom.

“How’s it going, baby?” Mr. J asked, energy radiated off of him. He was so excited for this day.

“Puddin, these clothes are so boring!” She pouted, motioning to her outfit. “And look at my skin! I don’t even look like I belong to you!”

Joker looked her over, walking closer and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“No tantrums. This is a very important day. I will not let it be ruined by your fits.” He hissed at her, “Listen, I don’t like them either. But you want to make daddy proud, right baby?”

She sighed, “Yes, puddin.”

“Good girl.” Joker looked down at her clothes again, “After this is all done,” He leant in to speak in her ear, “I never want to see you in these plain clothes again.”

Harley giggled, throwing her arms around him, and kissed him, “I second that.”

“Remember, my dear,” Joker purred in her ear, “This is your introduction to the world. So scream loud and make daddy proud.” He laughed in her ear at his rhyme.

An hour later, Harley walked through the crowd. There was a celebration today, at Gotham town square. The city was thanking Batman and Robin for their years of bravery with a life-size statue of both of them that would live outside of town hall. How nice of Gotham. Harley grinned from ear-to-ear as she saw that there was already a large crowd when she walked up to the middle of the city. She saw news reporters and paparazzi, get your cameras ready, they’d be getting much more than they originally thought. Harley pushed and flirted her way up towards the front of the crowd, ending up in one of the best spots for the action she would soon join in on.

A few minutes later, the mayor of Gotham stood up to speak. The crowd was lined with policemen, crime was very common in Gotham and with such a special day for the Joker’s most favored play toy the police weren’t taking any chances. The mayor went on and on about Batsy and his sidekick for minutes and minutes of painfully dragged out minute. Harley checked her watch many times, the Joker would show up in five minutes. Batman was supposed to show up in ten, but Batman would be a ‘no show’ today, he was too busy fighting off crocodile man in Midway City, Batman was not apart of Joker’s plan. Not yet, at least.

The guest of honor today was Robin.

Harley was exciting. Knowing she was the only one that knew what was going to happen today. She looked at the people around her, men, women, kids, all would be dead by the end of the hour.

The chaos started quick. One second the mayor was still talking and the next gunshots rang out, people were ducking, the mayor and the other men on stage were dead. It took all of Harley’s concentration not to explode with laughter. She knew exactly what just happened. The Joker’s henchmen had replaced the police officers and were shooting everyone in sight. A bullet hit the man next to Harley and he fell to the floor, blood splattering on his kids faces. Screaming. Crying. Bullets whizzing through the air. Harley felt so alive.

A familiar creepy laugh sounded and the Joker was on stage, brilliant purple suit shining, holding his own fancy white and gold gun.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Gotham! I have an important presentation for you today!” Joker announced, speaking over the bullets from his henchmen. “Would anyone like to volunteer to join me on stage?”

Harley was to busy watching her boyfriend in his natural element to see if anyone volunteered.

“What? Stage freight? That’s too bad! Looks like we’ll have to play a game! Eeny meenie miny mo.” Joker looked through the crowd and pointed at Harley, “You. Come up here, beautiful!”

“No, please!” Harley remembered her role, she shook her head and backed up a few steps. Trying to cover her smile with her hands on her face.

Two henchmen appeared on either side of her, each of them grabbed on of her arms and lifted her up off her feet walking her to the stage. Harley watched Joker’s eyes as he glared at the henchmen’s hands on her arms. But the glare was gone as Harley was brought close to him, Joker’s smile was bright as he held a hand out for Harley.

Joker wrapped an arm around Harley’s waist, holding her towards the crowd and  against him. Harley managed to work a few fake tears out of her eyes. Joker was laughing, shooting bullets in every direction.

Joker moved his lips to her ear, whispering only for her, “Scream louder, baby. You’re a hostage.” Harley screamed and tried to shake him off feebly, “Yes, that’s it.” He purred in her ear.

Harley was having trouble focusing on her hostage act as she felt his warm, fit body behind her. His purrs in her ear and his words of encouragement. His heavy breathing and the way his hand on her waist had moved to the exposed skin at her waist and his callused fingers were lightly stroking her skin inconspicuously. Harley tried to make a moan sound like a terrified sound.

“It fills my heart when I get such a willing volunteer!” Joker spoke loud enough for the steadily dying crowd to hear. Joker kept laughing.

Harley looked over the dying crowd. The henchmen were spraying bullets like febreze and the crowd was a bad smell. Blood was everywhere, pooling in the streets and on the stage. All Harley could hear was the Joker’s laughter. The violence, the screaming, the chaos, everything was perfect. Harley looked up at Joker’s face through her fake tears. She’d never seen him so happy.

“Ah, there he is!” Joker laughed harder, shooting his giant gun at the figure swinging from the top of a building from a grappling gun. “The guest of honor!”

Robin landed on the street, punching and kicking the henchmen as he worked his way to the stage. Robin was an expert fighter, he was clearly prepared in his red, black, and yellow armored suit. His giant, muscled arms and legs made his job with the henchmen much easier and quickly he was on the stage with Joker and Harley. The henchmen all on the ground and twitching. Harley improved on her sad face as Joker turned them to face Robin.

Joker’s laugh and smile had grown since the caped man flipped onto the stage.

“Joker, let her go!” Robin demanded in a deep commanding voice.

“No, no, no!” Joker laughed quickly, moving his fingers to Harley’s chin and shaking her head, “I admit I was jealous when I heard you and Batsy were getting honored today. I just had to drop by and file a complaint!” Joker laughed loudly again.

“Joker! This is between me and you. Let her go!” Robin yelled, slowly inching forward.

“I don’t think so, birdie. This is my welcome back party. Haven’t you missed me? I’ve certainly been missing you alone in those cold cells at Arkham!” Harley screamed again, “Isn’t she beautiful?” Joker moved his head to look at Harley, “I think I might keep her!”

Harley let out another scream, trying to squeeze a few more tears out.

“Oh the screams, I love it!” Joker laughed, “She has perfect creamy skin and smells so good too.” Joker purred in her ear. Harley tried to make her scream sound terrified and not excited.

Robin locked eyes with Harley, “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.” It took all of Harley’s concentration not to laugh, it won’t be for you.

At once, Harley realized that Robin had been slowly inching towards Joker and ‘his hostage’. Robin was now in arms length of them and with a move that only a trained warrior could achieve Harley was out of the Joker’s arms and Joker’s gun had been knocked away. Robin punched Joker’s smiling face and Joker responded by elbowing Robin in the neck. The fight escalated until they were just a matter of flying limbs.

Harley watched horrified as Robin punched her boyfriend’s nose and it started to bleed. She looked around, forgetting all about her damsel in distress act, and saw Joker’s discarded gun. She dashed towards it.

“Get off of him!” Harley yelled pointing the gun at them both.

She had to yell a few times for them to even hear her, but then both of their heads snapped toward her comically. Joker laughed as he saw her with the gun. To anyone looking, Harley with her brunette wig and her plain clothes seemed to be pointing the gun at the Joker. But she was really trying to hold her anger in to not kill Robin right there. Mr. J had a longer, shorter death for Robin planned.

“Get off!” She yelled again. Joker, who was on top of Robin, still smiling stood up and rose both of his hands to his head as if he were being arrested. Once Joker was out of the way, Harley pointed the gun at Robin. Robin’s face, who had been etched in appreciation at Harley’s help, morphed into confusion.

“Gotcha!” Harley giggled as she shot Robin in the stomach.

Thanks for reading! 

losing you is a process (don't make me)

02x06: IRON SISTERS - -

raphael santiago, head of the ny clan and over all charmer of concerned mothers worldwide is in simon’s room. he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst gaming and band posters in a way that a finger painting would if it were displayed next to the mona lisa.

he’s sex personified in leather pants that simon swears he wore just to get him worked up. not a single hair is out of place and he smells amazing. had it been any other time, simon would’ve taken a moment to enjoy the view but this is a crisis. his mother is in the hall, hoping for raphael to ~fix~ her son, waiting for a call from a doctor he’s had since childhood.

when raphael brushes past his fledgling, he makes sure to bump into him, arm to chest and he’s an awful awful man. he knows what effect he’s having and is savoring it.

he props up against the desk, palms splayed on it’s surface and yeah this looks familiar. like a magazine simon once hid under his mattress that featured a teacher doing naughty things that he should ~not~ be thinking about right now, oh god.

raphael mentions consequences, calls simon amigo as if nothing has changed for the worst as of late. friend. no longer reluctant enemies. it’s a start. lazily, raphael walks toward him without breaking eye contact and all simon can think of is, ‘I’ll take this punishment any day.’

a hand lands on his shoulder, gentle and soft unlike so many rough touches lately. raphael is close enough for simon to smell the woodsy cologne he wears, the sweet tangy blood in his veins. he knows the taste of that kiss, has spent too many sunny afternoons waking from a dead sleep, panting. but the worst part is this: knowing he had it all but chose to torch it.

his eyes close on instinct, waiting.

— raphael passes him by and simon freezes like an idiot hoping for a second, third, fourth chance.

no dice.

he turns at the sound of raphael’s voice at the door, knees weak and mind fuzzy. his eyes remain sealed and it takes his brain an extra second or two to process the words raphael is saying.

he opens them and wishes he hadn’t because there he goes again, losing raphael again. watching him walk away is torture and keeps happening like a wind up toy on repeat. the pain burns hotter, brighter every time. “what?”

the older vampire speaks, explaining about simon’s mother as if his dropping in at the lewis household is nothing out of the ordinary.

when he leaves, simon gives his mother a kiss on the cheek and closes the door behind him. he stares at the space raphael occupied and his chest aches something awful.

you look good in my room, he thinks. in my life.

(have I dodged a bullet or lost the love of my life)

Feyre: How long have you known that I’m your mate?

Rhys: Feyre.

Feyre: How long have you known that i’m your mate?

Rhys: You… You ensnared the Suriel?

Feyre: I said you don’t get to ask questions.

Rhys (in his mind):

Originally posted by morganmhancock

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

If you want to make me laugh OR cry then do one, not both!

This is a reassurance post for anyone else who felt just the general tone of last night’s episode was completely off the wall and wrong. I’ve written before about the idea of an intentional parody, and I think the scene before the drone detonates in 221B really demonstrates this.

Honestly, taken separately, you have some really gripping ideas. A bomb being left at Baker Street and Mycroft, John and Sherlock having limited time to figure out a plan before it goes off? Great, sounds thrilling, I’m in.

But instead of this dramatic tense scene (we KNOW how capable they are of writing on the edge of our seat stuff), it’s suddenly thrown off by a cut to Mrs Hudson hoovering. If you really want me to appreciate the gravity of the situation then yeah, show me her tidying blissfully unaware while mournful music plays, but don’t me her rocking out to a tune? 😂 We’ve seen in The Lying Detective that they CAN WRITE tension with great humour so well, see Benedict and Una in The Lying Detective! We can still laugh at the ridiculousness of the Shakespeare monologue while appreciating how seriously Sherlock is being affected by drugs.

And that brings me back to The Final Problem. Mrs Hudson aside, this is a perfect opportunity for you to really make me CARE about the possibility of 221B being blown up. You could have Sherlock’s wide eyes roaming across the walls, lingering on his and John’s chairs. You could have razor sharp dialogue from Mycroft, John and Sherlock but instead we have a non-conversation about Lady Bracknall that falls flat, and Sherlock saying “Good luck boys”?! It sounds false and cheesy and just doesn’t ring true.

At this point, I still feel it’s a deliberate farce. I have no idea if whatever I hope they’re planning will pay off (and I’m still rooting for it to do so because they have a true chance of creating the most iconic, meaningful John and Sherlock to date), and I again totally understand the frustration and anger at this decision! This post is basically to show that we KNOW what great storytelling is, as do they, and the fact that The Final Problem abandons the idea of making the audience care, something they’ve been able to do so well before, seems deliberately off to me.

PSA for writers

Recently I discovered some awesome YouTube videos about movies and screenwriting, but I think the lessons from those videos are a great resource for aspiring novelists and short fiction writers as well. So I’m going to share a few that I liked :)

1) The Darjeeling Limited: How Brother’s Communicate

2) Let’s Discuss Horror

3) Andrei Tarkovsky - Poetic Harmony

4) Opening Shots Tell Us Everything (I think this would be super useful for writers to understand how to write opening scenes in their stories.)

5) Dialogue in Film: How Should Characters Talk? and The Social Network - Designing Dialogue (These are REALLY good for dialogue, definitely my favourites.)

I’ve found that the best way to write a death scene is to make it saddest when it shouldn’t be. The funeral is rushed, the realization of death isn’t spent too much time on, and the characters mourning is more of a blank space filled with hums and a need for endless nothings.

But then Person A finally gets to be alone and gets to their room and looks at the bed and realizes that it’s suddenly a lot bigger. And they’re too short to reach the blinds to close them, and that was always Person B’s job. And they’ll never fold clothes for someone else again, never need to ask someone to turn off the light, never try to stop them from snoring. And then moving away from it all, trying to forget, holding back tears in the kitchen cradling a cup of tea they realize that Person B will never drink tea with them again. And they’ll never help them reach their mug. And when they drop it to the floor, shattering it into millions of helpless individuals there is no one there to tell them not to move, not to step on the glass, not to cut themselves. That the mug has no worth because it’s worth was in the adventures of cleaning up the pieces and remembering it as it was. 

There is no one to stop them from hurting. And there is no one to drink tea.

Tragedy comes in the little things. I just wanted to remind you of that.