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Oct 2020

I’m about to write a scene where my MC will, essentially, get rejected. I already have the scene and aftermath worked out in my head, but I’m always up for inspiration.

Give me passages or panels where your MC (or another character) receives bad news, gets their heart broken, or has a falling out with someone.

What did you do to prepare? Listen to music, watch movies, take details from your life?

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There are 49 replies with an estimated read time of 10 minutes.

From yesterday, a fallout after the things go bad. Apologies for raw, unedited piece


Everyone left Volya alone, just as he’d requested, apart from the two phone calls.

First, Dr. Sangha insisted that he must eat, but he refused, because he was a fool.

Second, Damir called to inform him that he was a fool. Also, that he (Damir) would break, enter and drag him to the kitchen by the ear at supper time. Not confident if Damir was joking or not—because his sensitive ears also caught Damir arguing with Marina under his breath to give the ‘kid’ some space—at dusk Volya crept through the house. He kept low and quiet, then dashed for the river, praying that Anabelle wouldn’t spot him. Two talks about her being pretty was enough for one day.

He lazed the last warm hour of the day laying on the fresh grass, watching the sky change colors and turning the bitter ashes of the day in his head over and over. Anabelle’s story, the Elder calling him a foreigner, Liam’s dashed hopes, him snapping at Liam, and Toshka pitying him when what he had wanted was to hear was the same longing that had filled his chest.

Then he counted the pinpricks of stars, or maybe they were planets, or the satellites. No matter, they were sparks in the sky, and counting them kept the dizziness at bay, as well as the kind of restlessness that welled up in him before each moonrise.

The hunger built up to a crescendo as well, twisting his guts into macrame. He was glad it did, for once, because it also distracted him from missing the moon.

But the brighter the moon shone, the greater became the urge. His chest heaved in relief after he gave in and howled, filling the air with a long trilling note, lonely and threatening at the same time.

I guess the latest The Depths fits.

David must leave Leilani on the island in order to keep her safe - despite their love for each other. :cry:

To prepare for this reveal, we had to think about past relationships we had, so that we could do a great layout and get some real emotion in the panels. So yeah, we worked from experience. :stuck_out_tongue: Love hurts

Here is a scene from Bright Morn of Issareth.

I wish I could tell you how I prepared, I can't. The best I could offer is life in general (watched my mother die in my dad's arms for one but that was a long long time ago)

I think you need to think empathetically and go with the flow.

Morn stumbled through the bodies on the battlefield, one after the other. He had a terrible gash at his hairline and his left arm hung useless, the shoulder dislocated.
He found his lieutenant first, his head barely attached to his body. Then one of his personal guards gasped his last breaths as Morn held tight to his hand.
In the distance small pockets of fighting rang out across the field but shouts that they'd won the battle and the day resounded across the multiple bodies of friend and enemy. He was joined by his sergeant. The man was wounded in arm and leg but still mobile searching for fallen comrades. One look at Morn told the sergeant all he needed to know. Jal was somewhere on the field with the fallen.
Their search was joined with what was left of Morn's personal guard as they turned over body after body. When they didn't find him Morn began to hope it was because he was alive and looking through the bodies for Morn.
Then nearby he and the men heard it, "Father." It was the softest of whispers that rang so overpoweringly loud it felled Morn to his knees. He crawled to Jal. He knew there was no hope. He'd seen wounds in battle like that before. Despite his shoulder he gathered his son to him.
Jal managed to reach up to touch his face. "Father." He whispered again. "Have we won?" Morn's tears mingled with his son's blood as he nodded. Jal smiled. "I knew we would. Tell my son about this day."
Morn nodded, unable to speak.
"Kiss him, like you used to kiss me." Jal whispered.
The sergeant gently removed Jal's helmet and Morn smoothed his son's blood-soaked hair back before he leaned down to kiss his forehead. When the kiss ended, he felt Jal's last breath as it softly brushed past his cheek into the breeze.
How could he tell his grandson about this? How could he tell Jal's wife, his mother, Pinpin, how could he tell them that his beautiful son was gone. He hugged Jal's body closer and rocked it as he cursed the fact that at forty, he would live with this pain for another sixteen decades.

https://tapas.io/series/Bright-Morn-of-Issareth

Thank you but nothing to be sorry about... life is life. I appreciate your care.
Thank you for the comments on the writing.

I hope you find the answers you need. Just remember empathy.

I have a lot of the moment that I would describe as sad in my comic, However I think it is important to know my characters and to read the entire episode to understand them because I really like taking my time to develop a situation and immerse the reader.

Those are a few episodes that contain some sad stuff.

https://tapas.io/episode/16393672
https://tapas.io/episode/16732851
https://tapas.io/episode/16993481
https://tapas.io/episode/17292481
https://tapas.io/episode/17906911

There are more, but i'll not spam to much, after all you can always go throught it if you like :slight_smile:

Katara: Let me out of here. I can't let him hurt you again.

Todoroki: He hasn't hurt me in years. Even if you win, this will only tear apart my family.

Katara: But I can't let him get away with this.

Todoroki: Where will I even go when he's not providing for me? I can't get a job, and I'm not going into the foster care system.

Katara: But I'm trying to help you!

Todoroki: I don't want your help! I told you to stay out of this! You're a fugitive now and it's all your fault. Now let me help you. Take this.

He gave her his hoodie and a pair of baggy jeans. He backed away and sat on the floor with his legs crossed over each other.

Todoroki: Endeavor has probably gone home. Leave the city. Don't try to figure out where he is. You can't.

Katara put on the clothes over what she was wearing and went to the door.

Katara: Bye todoroki. Thanks for everything.

Todoroki: Bye Katara. Mind your business next time.

They exchanged a tense look, and she left.

https://tapas.io/series/Mega-crossover

Aww, thank you. I am more of a funny writer than the lyrical one though

Aww, thank you. I've done a lyrical book before, in a similar vein as my current WIP, and I just prefer the funny/upbeat stuff.

Hmm. I don't want to share anything from my comic due to spoilers. But I've got some sad scenes.

I recently made this stand-alone picture of two baby dinos having their parent cruelly taken from them by nature though :smiley:

I don't really do anything special to prepare for sadness though. I just treat it as any other part of my creative endeavors. I just write or draw it.

There's a few sad scenes in my novel but out of the ones that have been released so far I think this one is my favourite:

Tradition satisfied, seamen returned to work and the Scavengers milled around, individual thoughts lost in the roll and foam of the waves. One by one – or two in the case of the twins – they peeled away to find some corner on this tiny floating world where they could pretend to be alone. Aina’s spot was in the hold, her hammock strung between haphazardly-filled crates that were their spoils from this most recent cruise up the coast. She found the gentle rushing of the sea this far below the waterline and the soft clucking of the caged hens – kept for their eggs rather than their meat – soothed her as she tried to sleep.

She hung up her lantern on its hook, and clambered into her hammock with a practiced roll. Swinging gently, she reached for a third time into her bag to retrieve the most precious item she had found. It was another book, bigger than The Ballad, heavy with the weight of knowledge. It was bound in scorched leather and its title was sternly embossed in blocky text “Practical Thaumaturgy – The Revised Third Edition”... by Torbeon Savonet.

One hand stroked those words, bringing memories unbidden of a serious, bearded man, who could nevertheless always seem to find a smile to spare for his eldest daughter. Aina clutched the book, holding it tightly to her chest, curled up closely around it, and wept deep wracking sobs that were lost in the rushing of water and the clucking of hens.

🥺🥺 oh no right in the feels. Another reminder that I need to read