✩

She's everything we were told as kids that princesses are meant to be. Friendly, graceful, wanting to be there for and protect children. She is a princess in need of rescue who tries over and over again to rescue herself while waiting for her knights. She is just as abused under the corrupt system in place, if not more so. Yet she still fights to protect the people who are trying to save her when she is broken. The surveillance system used by the corporation over it's citizens is something she uses to fondly remember the children she befriends.

I just love that despite how scathingly and rightfully this show criticizes Disney as a company, it never points the finger at the audience for loving princesses and wanting to indulge in fantasy, and the creativity that brought these fantasies to life were done so out of genuine love.

Add a second problem that won’t stay in its lane. While the main conflict grows, introduce another issue that keeps interfering and making choices harder.

Give every victory a cost. Let each solution create a new complication instead of clean relief.

Turn side characters into sources of pressure. Their needs, secrets, or mistakes should actively affect the main plot, not sit politely in the background.

Reveal information at the worst possible time. Timing alone can make a simple twist feel devastating.

Force the protagonist to choose between two things they want. The plot thickens when there’s no option that feels “right.”

Let past actions come back ugly. Consequences that arrive late hit harder and deepen the story’s layers.

Complicate the antagonist. Give them leverage, allies, or a point that almost makes sense.

Change the stakes midway. What the story is about shifts, even though the conflict stays connected.

Introduce a secret that reframes earlier scenes. Not a random twist—one that makes the reader rethink what they already know.

Let the character’s inner conflict sabotage the plot. Their flaws should actively make things worse.

KEEP READING!

Bad dialogue explains everything. Good dialogue trusts the reader to pick things up between the lines.

Bad dialogue sounds the same for every character. Good dialogue reflects personality, background, mood, and power dynamics.

Bad dialogue says exactly what the character feels. Good dialogue circles around the feeling, avoids it, or contradicts it.

Bad dialogue exists only to deliver information. Good dialogue reveals character while moving the plot forward.

Bad dialogue feels too polished or “perfect.” Good dialogue has interruptions, unfinished thoughts, and subtext.

Bad dialogue answers every question immediately. Good dialogue creates new tension, confusion, or curiosity.

Bad dialogue tells us relationships directly. Good dialogue shows relationships through tone, silence, and word choice.

Bad dialogue ignores conflict. Good dialogue lets characters want different things in the same conversation.

Bad dialogue sounds like a script being read. Good dialogue feels like people talking with something to lose.

Bad dialogue stays on the surface. Good dialogue is about what’s not being said.

It’s not about darkness. It’s about a precise use of habits and small things, their behaviour both when acting the villain and not.

1. Give them a contradiction.

Villains are scariest when they’re almost human. It's alot harder to harm, or even kill, when you can the part of them that is kind.

“He always apologised before hurting someone.”

2. Let them think they’re right.

No moustache twirling ('mustache twirling villain' is often used as a pejorative to describe poor antagonists/bad guys, usually they in comedy) — just conviction. Their ideals and values should stem from something important to them. Doesn't have to be important or make to others, just them.

“I’m not saving the world. I’m correcting it.”

3. Give them a normal habit that becomes unsettling.

• humming off-key

• straightening objects mid-argument

• collecting people’s abandoned pens (this was something I got from primary school where I watched someone collect them and i thought it was evil they were stealing pens😭)

4. Make their kindness selective.

Kind to dogs. Cruel to friends.

Kind to children. Absent to their own.

This really adds to their character and backstory, even if you don't elaborate or tell it.

5. Make their presence change a room.

Not with theatrics — with tone.

“The laughter thinned when he stepped inside.”

Making antagonists who aren’t evil (but still hurt you emotionally)

Some of the best antagonists are just… people.

1. Give them the same goal as the hero — different methods.

Hero wants peace.

Antagonist wants peace.

Hero uses unity; antagonist uses control.

2. Let the antagonist be right sometimes.

That stings.

3. Make the hero almost agree with them.

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “But you’re not right either.”

4. Show glimpses of softness.

“He tucked the child’s drawing into his coat.”

5. Let them break their own rules.

Instant complexity, villains change the rules to fit their momentary desires and whims.

(Edit: ive written this up from a book that ive been filling with writing tips and tricks from classes, im putting here a few pages from it

So I get it, I need to change how I format things 😭)

Updated 19th October 2025 More writing tips, review tips & writing description notes

Dialogue Tags

Facial Expressions

Masking Emotions

Smiles/Smirks/Grins

Eye Contact/Eye Movements

Blushing

Voice/Tone

Body Language/Idle Movement

Thoughts/Thinking/Focusing/Distracted

Silence

Memories

Happy/Content/Comforted

Love/Romance

Sadness/Crying/Hurt

Confidence/Determination/Hopeful

Surprised/Shocked

Guilt/Regret

Disgusted/Jealous

Uncertain/Doubtful/Worried

Anger/Rage

Laughter

Confused

Speechless/Tongue Tied

Fear/Terrified

Mental Pain

Physical Pain

Tired/Drowsy/Exhausted

Eating

Drinking

Warm/Hot

⇰ the pause. THE PAUSE. like “are we doing this? oh god we’re doing this.”

⇰ looking at each other’s mouths like it’s a life-or-death decision

⇰ someone whispering “can I?” or “just once” before going for it and RUINING ME EMOTIONALLY

⇰ hands. gripping shirts. cupping faces. hovering like “do I touch?? I WANNA TOUCH”

⇰ breath hitching?? yes. shakiness?? absolutely.

⇰ that stupid moment where one of them pulls back a few inches like “wait are you sure” and the other just goes for it again

⇰ kissing like they’re scared it’ll be the last time

⇰ kissing like they’ve been waiting ten goddamn years

⇰ teeth clashing awkwardly and both laughing about it but STILL FEELING IT

⇰ one of them freezing for a second mid-kiss because the feelings just hit

⇰ the post-kiss moment of “uh. so. yeah.” where neither knows what the hell just happened

Tears are powerful, but do you know what's more impactful? The struggle to hold them back. This post is for all your hard-hearted stoic characters who'd never shed a tear before another, and aims to help you make them breakdown realistically.

The Physical Signs of Holding Back Tears

Heavy Eyelids, Heavy Heart Your character's eyelids feel weighted, as if the tears themselves are dragging them down. Their vision blurs—not quite enough to spill over, but enough to remind them of the dam threatening to break.

The Involuntary Sniffle They sniffle, not because their nose is running, but because their body is desperately trying to regulate itself, to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to take over.

Burning Eyes Their eyes sting from the effort of restraint, from the battle between pride and vulnerability. If they try too hard to hold back, the whites of their eyes start turning red, a telltale sign of the tears they've refused to let go.

The Trembling Lips Like a child struggling not to cry, their lips quiver. The shame of it fuels their determination to stay composed, leading them to clench their fists, grip their sleeves, or dig their nails into the nearest surface—anything to regain control.

The Fear of Blinking Closing their eyes means surrender. The second their lashes meet, the memories, the pain, the heartbreak will surge forward, and the tears will follow. So they force themselves to keep staring—at the floor, at a blank wall, at anything that won’t remind them of why they’re breaking.

The Coping Mechanisms: Pretending It’s Fine

A Steady Gaze & A Deep Breath To mask the turmoil, they focus on a neutral object, inhale slowly, and steel themselves. If they can get through this one breath, they can get through the next.

Turning Away to Swipe at Their Eyes When they do need to wipe their eyes, they do it quickly, casually, as if brushing off a speck of dust rather than wiping away the proof of their emotions.

Masking the Pain with a Different Emotion Anger, sarcasm, even laughter—any strong emotion can serve as a shield. A snappy response, a bitter chuckle, a sharp inhale—each is a carefully chosen defence against vulnerability.

Why This Matters

Letting your character fight their tears instead of immediately breaking down makes the scene hit harder. It shows their internal struggle, their resistance, and their need to stay composed even when they’re crumbling.

✦ first rule: don’t over-explain. once you give me the monster’s exact height, weight, claw count, and dental record, it’s not scary anymore. it’s a pokémon. mystery is the muscle. a shadow that almost looks human will always hit harder than a full description of a swamp beast. leave gaps. let the reader’s brain fill them in with their own worst fear.

✦ physics should not apply. horror monsters are terrifying when they break the rules of the world we think we understand. a body folding in ways it shouldn’t. joints bending the wrong direction. silence in a place that should echo. footsteps that sound like they’re coming from the ceiling instead of the floor. once you warp reality, the reader doesn’t feel safe in their own.

✦ chasing is fine. but waiting is worse. scarier than claws, scarier than snarling—try a monster that just stands in the corner and watches. even scarier? it smiles. because predators don’t smile unless they know something you don’t.

✦ let it act like it knows you. a growl is scary, sure, but a whisper of your name in the dark is worse. a hiss of your birthday. a laugh in your mother’s voice. monsters are no longer “other” once they feel personal. they’re invasive. they’re inside your head.

(How your character defends their soft core and what could shatter it) Because protection becomes prison real fast.

1. Slow down at emotionally important moments.

Big emotions need space to land. If a scene feels rushed, pause the plot briefly to show how the moment affects the character.

2. Add reactions, not explanations.

Instead of explaining what a character feels, show it through physical responses, hesitation, or small actions that reveal emotion naturally.

3. Ground every scene in the senses.

If a scene feels thin, add one or two sensory details—sound, texture, smell, or temperature—to make the moment feel lived-in.

4. Let thoughts interrupt action.

A line of internal thought can deepen a scene without slowing it too much. Thoughts show stakes, fear, longing, or conflict beneath the action.

5. Expand consequences, not events.

You don’t need more things to happen—you need to show what matters. Focus on how events change relationships, decisions, or self-perception.

6. Strengthen setting where emotion peaks.

The environment should echo or contrast the emotion of the scene. Setting is not decoration—it’s emotional reinforcement.

7. Add specific details instead of general ones.

Underwriting often relies on vague language. Swap “they argued” for one sharp line of dialogue or a specific breaking point.

8. Let dialogue breathe.

Short dialogue exchanges without pauses can feel flat. Add beats—silence, gestures, interruptions—to give the conversation weight.

9. Show transitions between scenes.

If scenes jump too quickly, readers feel disoriented. A brief transition helps establish time, mood, and emotional continuity.

10. Clarify stakes early in the scene.

If readers don’t know what can be lost, scenes feel empty. Make sure the character wants something specific and fears losing it.

11. Use the “what are they feeling right now?” check.

After each major beat, ask what emotion is dominant in that moment. If it’s missing on the page, the scene is likely underwritten.

12. Expand scenes that feel “too clean.”