#Tumblr Novels

[1indigoisles]

Chapter 4 - Excerpt 1

“Oh, Scarlett Raynott, you are about to deeply regret your life decisions,” Jolene said, lowering into a fighting stance even though she had no weapons.

The Shadow was huge and ghastly in it’s size and girth, bigger than any I had ever seen, which wasn’t very many, sure, but still. It towered over all of us, so much so that we needed to lift our heads to see above its neck. The room itself was just high and spacious enough to encase the Shadow, floored with cracked, dusty cement and crumbs hither and tither. It contained a number of boxes and crates stacked upon each other and pushed away to the sides, leaving a bare middle where Scarlett stood, pale and gaunt as a black-and-white painting, wearing dark jeans and a black tank top with thick straps on the shoulders, looking positively minimalistic stationed right in front of her Shadow. And strangely, they both kept carefully within the bounds of the wide circle of shiny charcaol-like substance.

“Where the hell did you get nightglass from?” Jolene asked, jabbing a finger at the boundary, which I now knew what it was made of.

“It was the only thing I could think of,” Scarlett said in a restrained sort of tone. “And look around you. This is a storage room for nightglass. The Chambers, they’ve been lying to us. Said that there wasn’t much of it left. But here-”

“Not now, Scarlett,” Rowan interrupted, eyes scanning the rest of the room. Jolene kept her eyes trained on the Shadow.

Nothing in the room suggested the existence of the aforementioned element, however. No marks, signs or large banners that said ‘NIGHTGLASS’ existed where anyone could see them. The crates so messily pushed to the sides could contain anything from air to poisonous snakes kept under sedation to any other witchy element exclusive to these parts for all they gave away. One of the crates closest to the witch-circle was half open, its lid sticking out, balancing unevenly and dangerously to indicate where Scarlett had gotten the nightglass from.

I latched my line of sight back on the Shadow, fully expecting for it to maim a surprise attack.

But the Shadow didn’t do anything except hover behind Scarlett like a pet behind its master, its head even a little bent towards the ground, as if expressing submission. Scarlett stood arrow-straight in front of it, intimidating in her stance, unwavering. The expression on her face could have been ice or stone or iron, or all three. The master and her pet. But no, they both were trapped within a circle of dark crystal, slaves to it. The Shadow was no longer the largest thing in the room. Scarlett wasn’t the largest thing either.

The nightglass was.

“How did this happen?” I asked, directly addressing Scarlett.

Jolene glared menacingly at the other girl and crossed her arms against her chest. “Yes, Scarlett,” she said, “tell us.”

“Well, fuck if I know any more than you do,” Scarlett replied. “This,” she gestured expansively behind her, “wasn’t exactly a prearranged tea-party.”

“But it’s morning,” Rowan said, puzzled, “how could it even escape? Scarlett, you need to tell us if there is something-”

“Is Desiree all right?” Scarlett cut in, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from Rowan’s question.

“Desiree can lick her own wounds fortunately,” Jolene snapped, “no thanks to you.”

“You think I wanted this to happen?” Scarlett snarled. “It’s a Shadow. It’s my Shadow, sure, but it still does what it wants, so I don’t know what it’s doing here in broad daylight. And why did you bring him, Jolene?” She jabbed a finger in my direction, not bothering to grace me with even a glance. She took a sharp breath. “If you want me to tell you why this is happening, I can’t.” She gave me a once-over. “But I can fucking guess, and so can you.”

Something hot as molten lead shot through my system like a bullet, lighting a fire deep inside my chest, burning my ears and my thoughts. Ash gathered in my brain. The tips of the flames licked my throat. Anger.

I glared at Scarlett. We were there to help, I was there to help, and already I was reconsidering my decision to come along with Jolene and Rowan.

“Hey,” I said firmly, addressing all of them in part, “stop pretending as though I’m not even here, and say what you have to say to my face. Also, do not assume to assign me blame for your mess. Apart from a crackpot prophecy written hundreds of years ago, you don’t know the first thing about me, so all of you, stop acting like you do. I have no part in this, and even if I somehow do, well, I can’t control it better than you,” I looked at Scarlett, “can control your Shadow, so please, save yourself the hypocrisy.”

Scarlett levelled an infuriatingly cool gaze at me, as if absorbing my anger and putting it in the freezer, and asked somewhat randomly and curiously, “what’s going on over there, Teigen?” She was looking at the hand I’d recently punctured, which hung loosely at my side.

My mind stuttered to a stop for a moment before I looked down myself to find a small ball of light swirling in the gap between my index and middle fingers. Rowan and Jolene stared. I stared too; I hadn’t even noticed the strange sphere forming there.

I raised my hand, inspecting it with some curiosity. It was white, bright, and hurt to look at for too long, like the sun, although that was more in comparison to the pitch-black background that was the Shadow than a nod to it’s actual glow. I then looked past the thing, at the Shadow, wondering.

I arched my arm back.

Rowan, seeming to catch up first, interrupted with some alarm, “Kenneth, don’t do it.”

I lowered my arm a fraction. “So what do we do, exactly? We can’t just wait around and expect the thing to vanish on its own, or do Shadows just do that if you leave them alone long enough? Because if so, I have to say it didn’t seem to be the case when they came for me.”

“You’re going to make it angry,” Rowan said, ignoring my sarcasm. “And if something happens, and it gets out of the circle, it’s game over for us. The nightglass binds it to where it is, and it knows; that’s why it isn’t struggling. But if it gets out... either it kills us or it escapes with Scarlett or both. We need to be careful.”

“Back to my first question, Rowan,” I answered, still not completely lowering my arm, still aiming to fire. “Enlighten me, would you?”

Rowan pursed his lips. A moment passed.

“Thought so too,” I said. “I’m not-” I stopped, unsure whether what I was about to say next was entirely true or not. “I’m not acting unreasonably. My... power or ability or whatever killed a Shadow. Now, I may not know much about this town and these creautures and you people, but I do know that that’s supposed to be a big deal. And this,” I held up the still-swirling ball of light, “is nothing in comparison to what I did a few days ago. Best it’ll probably do is just tickle.”

“This thing isn’t something to be experimented with, Kenneth,” Rowan said, frowning. “There is a way to subdue the Shadow, but Scarlett here,” he glared at her, “has made that impossible.”

“What exactly is it that we would need to do?” I asked.

“We would have to get the Shadow to come out of that hell-space, and we would have to fight it off long enough until we could push it back inside Scarlett,” Jolene answered for her brother with a sick look on her face, as though the words had tasted like bile in her mouth. “The Shadow comes out when it wants to, and up until now, we’d assumed that it came out only at night. Obviously, it has somehow gotten stronger.”

But I was no longer listening. Suddenly, I could feel the ball of light, more than I’d felt it before, as an actual weight between my fingers. It was taking my concentration, begging me to let it go and see what happens.

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting. As the ball hit the Shadow somewhere off the center of its chest, I thought the worst possible thing that could happen would be a contact-explosion, a burst of white light that would be sure to wake up everyone in Knightville, like it had some days ago. The implications of that possibility were just hitting me then, and I felt like an idiot for not listening to Rowan. It was an annoying feeling because the rational thing to do would have been to follow Rowan and Jolene’s lead, but I had completely overlooked that choice and instead put all of us in a dangerous and life-threatening situation.

But that feeling soon evaporated as the ground began to shake steadily, like an earthquake. It was clear and precise and terrifyingly real. The ball of light had disappeared and lost its way in the cloudy expanse of the Shadow’s body, and the Shadow crouched due to the impact, looking surreal in its existence.

What was not surreal was the terror. Rowan and Jolene looked deathly scared and at each other, eyes wide, breath shaky, reacting in the most teenager way that I had ever seen them do, feeling something akin to surprise as I watched them. It was then I realised how much had changed already, just for knowing the truth. For knowing differently. Because before they told me, they’d seemed normal enough; almost everything had seemed normal at the time. But when three days ago happened, and then they had to, it was as though nothing much could touch them; they’d been scornful of my confusion, because that was how they’d been raised, born without the right to be scared. And I’d thought that that was how they really were.

It was also then that I realised how much they hadn’t dealt with at their age, and how much they had.

And right now, they didn’t know what to do.

There was a crash. The lid of the box where Scarlett had gotten the nightglass from had already been dangerously teetering, and now the shaking ground had made it choose to fall directly on top of the nightglass circle, disturbing one-fifth of it in the process.

A wide door.

The room suddenly stopped shaking, and before I could open my mouth for a shout, the Shadow made a sharp, terrible sound like cackling and whooshed out in a dark mass, twisting, turning, forming, promising black things. It rang in my ears, the sound it made, along with the terrible words, your fault.

Scarlett, who’d been standing still as a statue all this time, standing as if a twitch of a nerve could set everything rocketing into hell, existing with the restraint of staying still, immediately darted out of the circle and ran to the corner of the room, where the normal shadows were the darkest.

Darkness manipulation.

Although how Scarlett’s powers could help in this situation I didn’t know, since light seemed to be the Shadows’ repellant, and darkness their friend. I didn’t wonder for long. The Shadow was the problem, and while Scarlett Raynott had the potential to be a bigger, more particularly annoying problem, this was obviously first priority.

I felt power rush through my veins, and explode out of my palm as I held it up and bolted my feet to the floor. I gripped my arm with my other hand to keep it straight, and felt as a beam of brilliant white light hit bullseye.

The Shadow had been lunging for me, but now it was thrown back as the surge of light hit it right in the middle. I squinted. Something was wrong. I didn’t feel the immediate give that I felt a few days ago, when I’d killed a Shadow with my bare hands; rather, I felt an immense pressure, a hard and persistent push. As far as I could see, the Shadow wasn’t blasted across the room – it was stuck mid-air, trying to fight against my light, my power. The only effect it seemed to be having was in holding it back, which was worrying. I later wondered exactly how powerful Scarlett’s Shadow was.

I heard Jolene shout something at me, but I couldn’t hear it over the ringing in my ears. Nor did I even turn to look at her and Rowan, keeping my focus solely on the Shadow. I had absolutely no idea what they were doing.

I could not tell how many minutes had passed since locking myself and the Shadow in this position – our forces seemed matched somehow – and it was like pushing a wall. I wondered how long I could stay like this, a beam of endless light, an extension of my self, protruding out of my hand and in an arrow-straight line, direct and unmoving.

I didn’t have to wonder for long. The Shadow, with a sudden surge of energy, gave a loud push as it moved forward sharply and in a flash, catching me completely off guard and skidding me off-trajectory, my beam of light flying helter-skelter before disappearing entirely.

I hit the ground on my right arm, sending a prickly, bruising pain all over it because of the crumbs of cement digging into my skin like rough pebbles on the ground. I didn’t even give myself time to think or be surprised before shrugging it off, and immediately trying to get back on my feet. As soon as I did, however, the Shadow extended a large, black, taloned hand a little more than two-thirds my size, and swept me aside with an inhuman sort of strength, making me fly into a couple of large crates stacked next to each other, some sitting on top of others on the ground.

As I crashed into the whole structure, my head banging and my limbs knocking, I saw dark spots dance in my vision. My body shoved some of the crates off their pedestals with successive crashes as I landed on two of them, slipping and sliding on my back, my arms and legs and sides throbbing and my head hanging. The pain struck like lightning in what felt like every square inch of my body, terrible and forbidding and impossible to shake. I felt like lying there and letting myself lose consciousness in the blackout I knew was coming, but no, there was still things left to do, and I couldn’t just forget that, as much as it felt like I needed to. I forced my eyes open (I hadn’t even realised how close I was to shutting them) and while it hurt the back of my neck to lift my head, I did anyway, and I tried to regain fine motor control in my limbs. Clumsily, I got down from where I laid, barely being able to keep my balance as I tried to stand, leaning on the crates as I did. The Shadow was coming at me again, claws outstretched, but I barely registered it. I barely felt any fear either, despite looking from my angle like it was the end of the line for me. I was in no shape to fight, I thought, as the clawed hand, instead of tearing me to shreds, twisted around my leg and gripped it tight, as if meaning to fling me across the room like a rag-doll.

I gasped at the feeling of the Shadow’s hand on me. It was the cold air on a winter night in December when the clock had just struck twelve, it was like a vacuum that would take whatever it could get, it was like slow poison, draining my life and energy. I could feel it sucking at my power like it was a mosquito an I was a blood-bag. I could feel my vision beginning to blur around the edges, darkness waiting to claim me once more. But the feeling of getting the life sucked out of me didn’t last long, since my own body instinctively rebelled too, a flash of bright light erupting on the leg encased in the Shadow’s grasp. Light escaped in slits between the Shadow’s fingers as it immediately jerked back, like it was burnt. I couldn’t tell at that exact moment, but I was pretty sure I was grinning at it.

Not even a second had gone by standing in that position, however, when Scarlett Raynott leapt out of the shadows, clutching a long, simple blade like a sword. The blade was made of a smoking material darker than night, and somehow I couldn’t help but think that Scarlett had created it herself, out of nothing but shadows.

She was running to the Shadow, the lower half of her top whipping around her frame as she did. When she was close enough, she slashed straight through the cloudy part of it’s body, although what good that would do, I didn’t know, since the only defined parts of the Shadow were the head and arms, and striking there seemed smarter. Regardless, the Shadow seemed to recoil sharply, or an inhuman, ghastly version of the action anyway.

Scarlett continued swiping viciously at it, slashing and nicking and stabbing, twisting her body into a fast-paced dance as I struggled to be of use. Scarlett was going too fast for me to be able to properly track her exact movements, but it seemed to me like she was trying to confuse the Shadow, trying to make it knot itself up instead of directly killing it, which confused me.

But the Shadow was getting angry at Scarlett’s toying. In a fit of rage, it swung wildly around, half-twisting it’s body, and while I wondered what exactly it was trying to accomplish by doing this, I had no time to figure it out, since one of it’s hands swatted my aching body aside like a fly.

I skidded off-balance once more and landed on my hands and knees, my face missing the ground by mere inches. Pain shot through my palms as the rough, crumbled ground dug into my skin to get at the blood underneath. I felt the breath get knocked out of me once more as I tried to get up, to forget the pain, to do something, but my body simply refused. I was in a crawl, and my hands stung so much I was positive I would see blood if I turned them.

But I didn’t turn them; instead, I looked up. Above my head existed the still-glowing light bulb, whose existence I had entirely forgotten about, emanating its steady gold-yellow light, bathing the ground that I was scrawled upon with it.

And I looked at the light beseechingly, questioning, wanting, looking at it as though it was hope, asking it for something although I didn’t know what it was, just filled with the desperate yet unmistakeable need to fight back. Otherwise... otherwise I feared we would die, and I didn’t want to think about what would happen if we did.

And as I lay there, looking at the ground, not really seeing anything, I felt something form underneath the palm of my left hand.

Light manipulation.

I held it up. It was a short sword.

It looked ethereal in my hand, although it felt solid enough. It had a very basic design, as though crafted by a beginning blacksmith, but design wouldn’t be needed to make it noticeable. In stark contrast to Scarlett’s blade, the core of mine was pure white light, with yellow and gold framing the sides. Looking at it, I somehow couldn’t shake the feeling that I had created this myself, out of nothing but light.

I got to my feet in an instant and turned back to the fight.

Now it seemed the fight had flipped itself. The Shadow was toying with Scarlett as it tried to back her up against a wall. She was trying hard not to falter, trying not to let pain or exhaustion show, but it was evident that she couldn’t hold it for much longer.

If I was weaponless, I would wonder where the hell Jolene and Rowan could possibly be that was keeping them for so long. But I was not weaponless; I had something that had a sure possibility of working, and while at any other time I would be slightly bemused at having to wield such a medieval and dangerous thing, there was no time to worry about it now. I ran at the Shadow from behind, and instead of directly stabbing it, I slashed at it the way I’d seen Scarlett do, diverting its entire attantion from her to me.

It turned one hundered and eighty degrees, bending its head to look discompassionately at me. Maybe it was the lack of facial features that did it, or maybe it was the fact that it was a demonic creature trying to squeeze the life out of the two living beings in the room, but it suddenly looked ten times more dangerous to me than it had before. Fear gripped at my stomach, forcing me to take a step back. The Shadow raised it’s black hand to make a killing strike.

But it never came, because Scarlett had attacked again. She had taken a deep swipe at the Shadow, and it flinched as if stung and half-turned to Scarlett. I retreated another step.

“Raynott,” I called, grateful that my voice was still steady, “what do we do?”

Scarlett went at the Shadow again. “You,” she replied, swinging her long, pointy blade at the Shadow; it flinched again, “are going to stay,” she swirled and slashed away the Shadow’s attempts at a counter-attack, “out of my way.”

The very first thought that formed in my brain after her command was, Rude.

I glared at her. Now a part of me just wanted to follow her clear instruction, even if things get bad, just to spite her. But I ended up tracking her movements instead, trying to figure out exactly what it was she was trying to accomplish. Scarlett looked like she was circling the Shadow, trying to get it to hover in a particular place, and I saw the particular place being the curve of nightglass.

Then it clicked.

Of course,I thought, how did I not see it?

Now, I didn’t know what this nightglass-thing could do – I didn’t even know if that was how it was even spelt, but one thing I knew for sure was that the Shadow obeyed it. When Rowan, Jolene and I had first walked into the room, it had seemed trapped within the circle, carefully making sure the very fumes from its cloud-like figure were kept away from the element. It had seemed, at least the closest definition of it for something like itself, scared of it.

The nightglass wasn’t a trap; it was torture, and it could hurt and maybe even kill Shadows.

I still had the short sword in my hand.

Well, Scarlett Raynott may not want or appreciate my help, but then again, she couldn’t tell me what to do.

I ran at the Shadow, which had it’s back to me and turned just in time for me to get a good swipe at its arm, and although I suspected I was wielding my weapon poorly, it got the job done.

The forearm of the Shadow, including the elbow, separated itself neatly from the rest of the arm and fell to the ground, but just before it could hit, the arm fell apart and dematerialised itself into thin, fine, black smoke.

The Shadow let out a feral shriek meant to tear the skies. Behind it, I could see Scarlett, gazing glassily into space and swaying a little as though I’d chopped off her arm too, which I didn’t understand at all. She didn’t seem to even be present in the current situation, like she’d been caught in a bad daydream.

There are some Shadows that form... attachments with particular Diaforians.

But how?

“Scarlett?” I called, not fully returning my gaze to the Shadow.

Scarlett seemed to snap out of whatever daze she’d just been in. She levelled me a furious glare. “What part of ‘stay out of my way’ don’t you understand?” she snarled.

It took a certain amount of self-control not to snap ‘you’re welcome’ right back at her.

The Shadow seemed to be vulnerable now, now that it had lost a limb. It was shrieking and shrinking to our size and holding its body together in a huddle as if finally willing to accept defeat, and it was hovering close enough to the nightglass that one small push could mean the end of it all. Just a small action.

But I wasn’t taking my chances, and neither, it seemed, was Scarlett.

We both ran to the Shadow at the same time, locked gazes, came to an understanding, and pinned the Shadow right to the ground on top of the nightglass, our blades piercing either shoulder.

The Shadow stopped moving entirely for a second as though it was surprised, and gave one last shriek before disintegrating entirely, head and neck and shoulders and all, into a feral black cloud, twirling slowly around Scarlett’s skin, her arms and legs and upper body, into her eyes and ears and nose. It then enveloped her completely, such that I couldn’t even see Scarlett for a few seconds, before it seemed as though her skin had absorbed the Shadow entirely, while still looking entirely pale and bloodless as ever.

We’d been standing in a crouch; we straightened now, our weapons hanging loosely in our hands.

But then, as if it understood that its purpose had been fulfilled, my short sword gave a short tug as it flew out of my hand and went back to its source, dissolving into shimmering light on the ground. I didn’t even have it in me to twitch a brow as Scarlett's blade did the same, only it was the shadows that the weapon retreated back to.

And then it was over.

Taglist: @jeahreading, @damn-this-transgirl-hella-gay, @mayaheronthorn

[damn-this-transgirl-hella-gay]

Tumblr Story Time - Land of Magic, Prologue: Story by @1indigoisles

[hayatheauthor]

10 Non-Lethal Injuries to Add Pain to Your Writing

New Part: 10 Lethal Injury Ideas

If you need a simple way to make your characters feel pain, here are some ideas: 

1. Sprained Ankle

A common injury that can severely limit mobility. This is useful because your characters will have to experience a mild struggle and adapt their plans to their new lack of mobiliy. Perfect to add tension to a chase scene.

2. Rib Contusion

A painful bruise on the ribs can make breathing difficult, helping you sneak in those ragged wheezes during a fight scene. Could also be used for something sport-related! It's impactful enough to leave a lingering pain but not enough to hinder their overall movement.

3. Concussions

This common brain injury can lead to confusion, dizziness, and mood swings, affecting a character’s judgment heavily. It can also cause mild amnesia.

I enjoy using concussions when you need another character to subtly take over the fight/scene, it's an easy way to switch POVs. You could also use it if you need a 'cute' recovery moment with A and B.

4. Fractured Finger

A broken finger can complicate tasks that require fine motor skills. This would be perfect for characters like artists, writers, etc. Or, a fighter who brushes it off as nothing till they try to throw a punch and are hit with pain.

5. Road Rash

Road rash is an abrasion caused by friction. Aka scraping skin. The raw, painful sting resulting from a fall can be a quick but effective way to add pain to your writing. Tip: it's great if you need a mild injury for a child.

6. Shoulder Dislocation

This injury can be excruciating and often leads to an inability to use one arm, forcing characters to confront their limitations while adding urgency to their situation. Good for torture scenes.

7. Deep Laceration

A deep laceration is a cut that requires stitches. As someone who got stitches as a kid, they really aren't that bad! A 2-3 inch wound (in length) provides just enough pain and blood to add that dramatic flair to your writing while not severely deterring your character.

This is also a great wound to look back on since it often scars. Note: the deeper and wider the cut the worse your character's condition. Don't give them a 5 inch deep gash and call that mild.

8. Burns

Whether from fire, chemicals, or hot surfaces, burns can cause intense suffering and lingering trauma. Like the previous injury, the lasting physical and emotional trauma of a burn is a great wound for characters to look back on.

If you want to explore writing burns, read here.

9. Pulled Muscle

This can create ongoing pain and restrict movement, offering a window to force your character to lean on another. Note: I personally use muscle related injuries when I want to focus more on the pain and sprains to focus on a lack of mobility.

10. Tendonitis

Inflammation of a tendon can cause chronic pain and limit a character's ability to perform tasks they usually take for granted. When exploring tendonitis make sure you research well as this can easily turn into a more severe injury.

This is a quick, brief list of ideas to provide writers inspiration. Since it is a shorter blog, I have not covered the injuries in detail. This is inspiration, not a thorough guide. Happy writing! :)

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[charbroiledchicken]

"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.

[tomcruisingthroughlife]

[literaryvein-references]

Writing Notes & References

Alchemy ⚜ Antidote to Anxiety ⚜ Attachment ⚜ Autopsy

Art: Elements ⚜ Principles ⚜ Photographs ⚜ Watercolour

Bruises ⚜ Caffeine ⚜ Color Blindness ⚜ Cruise Ships

Children ⚜ Children's Dialogue ⚜ Childhood Bilingualism

Dangerousness ⚜ Drowning ⚜ Dystopia ⚜ Dystopian World

Culture ⚜ Culture Shock ⚜ Ethnocentrism & Cultural Relativism

Emotions: Anger ⚜ Fear ⚜ Happiness ⚜ Sadness

Emotional Intelligence ⚜ Genius (Giftedness) ⚜ Quirks

Facial Expressions ⚜ Laughter & Humour ⚜ Swearing & Taboo

Fantasy Creatures ⚜ Fantasy World Building

Generations ⚜ Literary & Character Tropes

Fight Scenes ⚜ Kill Adverbs

Food: Cooking Basics ⚜ Herbs & Spices ⚜ Sauces ⚜ Wine-tasting ⚜ Aphrodisiacs ⚜ List of Aphrodisiacs ⚜ Food History ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Literary & Hollywood Cocktails ⚜ Liqueurs

Genre: Crime ⚜ Horror ⚜ Fantasy ⚜ Speculative Biology

Hate ⚜ Love ⚜ Kinds of Love ⚜ The Physiology of Love

How to Write: Food ⚜ Colours ⚜ Drunkenness

Jargon ⚜ Logical Fallacies ⚜ Memory ⚜ Memoir

Magic: Magic System ⚜ 10 Uncommon ⚜ How to Choose

Moon: Part 1 2 ⚜ Related Words

Mystical Items & Objects ⚜ Talisman ⚜ Relics ⚜ Poison

Pain ⚜ Pain & Violence ⚜ Poison Ivy & Poison Oak

Realistic Injuries 1 2 ⚜ Rejection ⚜ Structural Issues ⚜ Villains

Symbolism: Colors ⚜ Food ⚜ Numbers ⚜ Storms

Thinking ⚜ Thinking Styles ⚜ Thought Distortions

Terms of Endearment ⚜ Ways of Saying "No" ⚜ Yoga

Compilations: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ For Poets ⚜ Tips & Advice

all posts are queued. will update this every few weeks/months. send questions or requests here.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing References: Character Development

50 Questions ⚜ Backstory ⚜ Character-driven Story

Basics: How to Write a Character ⚜ A Story-Worthy Hero

Basics: Character-Building ⚜ Character Creation

Types of Characters: Key Characters ⚜ Literary Characters ⚜ Flat & Round Characters ⚜ Morally Grey ⚜ Narrators ⚜ Allegorical Characters ⚜ Archetypes ⚜ Stereotypical Characters

Worksheets: Backstory ⚜ Character ⚜ Kill your Characters ⚜ Antagonist; Villain; Fighting ⚜ Change; Adding Action; Conflict ⚜ Character Sketch & Bible ⚜ Protagonist & Antagonist ⚜ Name; Quirks; Flaws; Motivation ⚜ "Interviewing" your Characters ⚜ "Well-Rounded" Character

Personality Traits

5 Personality Traits (OCEAN) ⚜ 16 Personality Traits (16PF)

600+ Personality Traits ⚜ 170 Quirks

East vs. West Personalities ⚜ Trait Theories

Tips/Editing

Character Issues ⚜ Character Tropes for Inspiration

"Strong" Characters ⚜ Unlikable to Likable

Tips from Rick Riordan

Writing Notes

Binge ED ⚜ Hate ⚜ Love ⚜ Identifying Character Descriptions

Childhood Bilingualism ⚜ Children's Dialogue ⚜ On Children

Culture ⚜ Culture: Two Views ⚜ Culture Shock

Dangerousness ⚜ Flaws ⚜ Fantasy Creatures

Emotional Intelligence ⚜ Genius (Giftedness)

Emotions (1) (2) ⚜ Anger ⚜ Fear ⚜ Happiness ⚜ Sadness

Emotional Universals ⚜ External & Internal Journey

Goals & Motivations ⚜ Grammar Development ⚜ Habits

Facial Expressions ⚜ Jargon ⚜ Swearing & Taboo Expressions

Happy/Excited Body Language ⚜ Laughter & Humor

Health ⚜ Frameworks of Health ⚜ Memory

Mutism ⚜ Shyness ⚜ Parenting Styles ⚜ Generations

Psychological Reactions to Unfair Behavior

Rhetoric ⚜ The Rhetorical Triangle ⚜ Logical Fallacies

Thinking ⚜ Thinking Styles ⚜ Thought Distortions

Uncommon Words: Body ⚜ Emotions

Villains ⚜ Voice & Accent

Writing References: Plot ⚜ World-building

[writerthreads]

How to avoid White Room Syndrome

by Writerthreads on Instagram

A common problem writers face is "white room syndrome"—when scenes feel like they’re happening in an empty white room. To avoid this, it's important to describe settings in a way that makes them feel real and alive, without overloading readers with too much detail. Here are a few tips below to help!

Focus on a few key details

You don’t need to describe everything in the scene—just pick a couple of specific, memorable details to bring the setting to life. Maybe it’s the creaky floorboards in an old house, the musty smell of a forgotten attic, or the soft hum of a refrigerator in a small kitchen. These little details help anchor the scene and give readers something to picture, without dragging the action with heaps of descriptions.

Engage the senses

Instead of just focusing on what characters can see, try to incorporate all five senses—what do they hear, smell, feel, or even taste? Describe the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, or the damp chill of a foggy morning. This adds a lot of depth and make the location feel more real and imaginable.

Mix descriptions with actions

Have characters interact with the environment. How do your characters move through the space? Are they brushing their hands over a dusty bookshelf, shuffling through fallen leaves, or squeezing through a crowded subway car? Instead of dumping a paragraph of description, mix it in with the action or dialogue.

Use the setting to reflect a mood or theme

Sometimes, the setting can do more than just provide a backdrop—it can reinforce the mood of a scene or even reflect a theme in the story. A stormy night might enhance tension, while a warm, sunny day might highlight a moment of peace. The environment can add an extra layer to what’s happening symbolically.

Here's an example of writing a description that hopefully feels alive and realistic, without dragging the action:

The bookstore was tucked between two brick buildings, its faded sign creaking with every gust of wind. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of worn paper and dust, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a corner café down the street. The wooden floorboards groaned as Ella wandered between the shelves, her fingertips brushing the spines of forgotten novels. Somewhere in the back, the soft sound of jazz crackled from an ancient radio.

Hope these tips help in your writing!

[curatorotl]

I think one of the weirdest side effects of being a writer is that while I'm reading, I'll just start subconsciously editing the book. Like, if a sentence sounds odd or off to me, I'll fix it in my head and continue reading as if that were how it was written.

Does anybody else do this?

[literaryvein-templates]

Writing Worksheets & Templates

will update this every few weeks/months. alternatively, here are all my tagged Writing Worksheets & Templates

Chapter Outline ⚜ Character- or Plot-Driven Story

Death & Sacrifice ⚜ Magic & Rituals ⚜ Plot-Planning

Editing: Sentence Check ⚜ Writing Your Novel: 20 Questions

Tension ⚜ Thought Distortions ⚜ What's at Stake

Character Development

50 Questions ⚜ Backstory ⚜ Character Creation

Antagonist; Villain; Fighting ⚜ Protagonist & Antagonist

Character: Change; Adding Action; Conflict

Character: Creator; Name; Quirks; Flaws; Motivation

Character Profile (by Rick Riordan) ⚜ Character Sheet Template

Character Sketch & Bible ⚜ Interview your Character

Story-Worthy Hero ⚜ "Well-Rounded" Character Worksheet

Worldbuilding

20 Questions ⚜ Decisions & Categories ⚜ Worksheet

Setting ⚜ Dystopian World ⚜ Magic System (AALC Method)

Templates: Geography; World History; City; Fictional Plant

Writing References: Worldbuilding ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character

all posts are queued. send questions/requests here.

[manincaffeine]

when the teasing goes from cute and innocent to ‘oh that turned you on, didn’t it?’

[1indigoisles]

Chapter 2 - Excerpt 4

This excerpt and Chapter 2 - Excerpt 5 aren't going to be so action-packed, but Chapter 2 - Excerpt 6... well, that's when Land of Magic really begins. That is all I'm saying.

“Lila!” I called as I ran down the stairs. “Lila!”

Lila ran to the foot of the stairs completely clad in yoga attire, headphones on her ears, and a high ponytail on her head. And was that... was that a sweatband?

“Cassidy just called,” I informed her.

Lila went rigid, and I very nearly groaned aloud. I’d completely forgotten that Lila thought her sister still hated her. “What did she say?” she asked.

“Nothing about you,” I said, trying to sound as gentle as possible, “but a lot about Knightville.”

Lila’s shoulders relaxed for a small second before tensing again. “What about Knightville?”

And so I told her everything Cassidy told me, showing Lila the maps of Rhode Island. I myself had spent half an hour looking through these maps, one by one, and not a single label on any of them read ‘Knightville’. Cassidy had even sent me screenshots of Google searches on Knightville, where, sure enough, the only item was a ghost town in Utah. And I was pretty sure that if she had had the time, she would have sent every file of every well known geography book or atlas there was. Cassidy had known what she was talking about.

“B-but I-” Lila seemed to be at a loss for words. “what-how, I mean... I-if Knightville,” she breathed in, “doesn’t exist, or-or if the world doesn’t know Knightville exists...? Then where are we? No, how are we here? I-I... none of this makes sense!”

“Lila,” I said patiently, “you’re right; what Cassidy told us makes no sense, and I am just as confused as you are, but right now, I need you to be calm, or at least as calm as you can be right now, please.”

Lila, still breathing hard, looked at me, really looked at me for the first time, and gave a small smile. “You’re being so calm right now.”

I smiled back. What Lila didn’t know was that I wasn’t, in fact, calm. There was a tangled mess of questions, confusion and bewilderment at the back of my brain that I couldn’t afford to look at right just then; if I did, I would lose it completely, and losing it wasn’t an option. I would have to think logically.

And so I said the first thing my brain’s logic could think of: “We should leave Knightville.”

Lila opened her mouth and froze, as if she’d forgotten something entirely and my statement had just triggered her memory.

After a full ten seconds, she said, “we can’t.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

Lila looked at me, slightly dazed with horror. “Because we can’t. We couldn’t even if we tried.”

“But,” I protested, “you went out of town today, remember? To check out a bookstore for me?”

“I lied,” she said simply, “I wanted to, sure, but I just... couldn’t.” She suddenly steeled her posture, grabbed at my arm in a death grip, and started walking me out of the house, saying, “I can’t explain it. You need to see it for yourself; it’s not far.”

“What’s not far?” I asked as I followed her.

Lila didn’t respond as she opened the front door, dragged me out into the chilly night, and left it open. She was walking briskly, with purpose, and every step she took seemed to be a warning of what she was about to show me.

We walked along Scarlett’s house. It was dark, and almost invisible in the shadows, it’s age and overall shabbiness managing to make it look even creepier than Bleak House. I almost wouldn’t have even noticed it, if I didn’t know it wasn’t there.

We crossed it before I could think about exactly what that meant.

And that was when I started to feel it. The strangeness. The discomfort. It was like walking around in a room you’d never been in before when you’re blind and it’s dark. It was the chilly feeling of being in the very place you’re not supposed to be.

Foreign air on foreign ground with foreign soil.

Why was this feeling so exactly similar to the one I’d had when we came to Knightville?

********************************

Lila

We were nearing the end of town. Kenneth still looked oddly calm – a little uncomfortable, maybe – but still composed, the way he almost always did, as though he was the grown-up and I was the kid he needed to take care of. But the fact remained that I was still 19 years older than him, and that I wasn’t supposed to mess up, but I did.

It had been a mistake to move to DC in the first place. We were supposed to detach ourselves from family of any kind. We’d stayed there too long, and I knew it.

And here we were, me and my son, in the one place we weren’t supposed to be.

As we walked, the silence stretched miles long. Kenneth wasn’t asking any questions, which was a relief; I couldn’t answer any right just then. If I was in a normal state of mind, maybe I would’ve wondered why, considering what Cassidy had told him.

But what I needed to show him was important, if I could just find it.

The place was easy to find. It just went along the road, no turns, no tricky lanes. Just a straight path to the end of town. The exact place was marked by a tree, and that was also easy to find, because there were no other trees there.

I stopped when we had finally arrived, and turned to look at Kenneth, who was gangly like his father. He looked at me questioningly.

I breathed in, and gestured for him to take a few more steps.

And he did just that, slowly, for a few seconds... until he stopped. He couldn’t go any further.

And neither could I.

He frowned, and held his hand up in the air, which pressed against something invisible, like a wall.

His eyes widened in transparent shock, as he slammed both hands against it, slowly first, and then faster, more desperately.

“Lila...” he turned to me, and the look on his face washed me in guilt, “what-”

“This is why we can’t leave,” I said, my voice clearer than I thought it’d be, “there’s this... this Wall surrounding the entire town. I’ve spent the better part of half-an-hour trying to find a way to get out, but there isn’t any.”

Or at least, I had been told beforehand that there wasn’t any.

Kenneth combed his messy red-brown hair back with his fingers, trying to breathe measuredly, eyes closed and face turned to the cloudy sky, so I knew that he was trying to think.

I myself refused to think, instead just listlessly staring at what lies beyond the border; the continuation of the path, the sun, the people, the world. I had brought us here; had trapped us. This was my fault. I had told myself I would not think even then.

But then one single, solitary, mournful thought entered my head nonetheless.

Why, oh, why hadn’t I listened to David?

Enjoy!

Taglist: @jeahreading, @mayaheronthorn, @damn-this-transgirl-hella-gay, @margareturtle, @tys-kitty. The only ones who ever like my posts.

[carameatea]

Transmigrating sure is quite a hassle 💦

[hayatheauthor]

10 Flaws to Give Your Perfect Characters to Make Them Human

If you're tired of the usual vices like arrogance or impatience, here are some unique (or at least less basic) character flaws to give your perfect characters: 

Pathological Altruism

A character so obsessed with helping others that they end up doing more harm than good. Their inability to let others grow or face consequences creates tension.

2. Moral Narcissism

A character who sees themselves as morally superior to others, constantly justifying selfish or harmful actions because they believe they have the moral high ground.

3. Chronic Self-Sabotage

A character who intentionally undermines their own success, perhaps due to deep-seated feelings of unworthiness, pushing them into frustrating, cyclical failures.

4. Emotional Numbness

Rather than feeling too much, this character feels too little. Their lack of emotional response to critical moments creates isolation and makes it difficult for them to connect with others.

5. Fixation on Legacy

This character is obsessed with how they’ll be remembered after death, often sacrificing present relationships and happiness for a future that’s uncertain.

6. Fear of Irrelevance

A character-driven by the fear that they no longer matter, constantly seeking validation or pursuing extreme measures to stay important in their social or professional circles.

7. Addiction to Novelty

Someone who needs constant newness in their life, whether it’s experiences, relationships, or goals. They may abandon projects, people, or causes once the excitement fades, leaving destruction in their wake.

8. Compulsive Truth-Telling

A character who refuses to lie, even in situations where a lie or omission would be the kinder or more pragmatic choice. This flaw causes unnecessary conflict and social alienation.

9. Over-Identification with Others' Pain

Instead of empathy, this character feels others' pain too intensely, to the point that they can’t function properly in their own life. They’re paralyzed by the suffering of others and fail to act effectively.

10. Reluctant Power

A character who fears their own strength, talent, or influence and is constantly trying to shrink themselves to avoid the responsibility or consequences of wielding it.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! Instagram Tiktok

PS: This is my first short-form blog post! Lmk if you liked it and want to see more (I already have them scheduled you don't have a choice)

[charbroiledchicken]

reblog if you're a writer but would rather drink straight cyanide than show any of your family members your work