part of tvd and marvel rp since late 2012
writing fanfiction (mostly)
kind of very intimidated by tumblr
all images are created using procreate
https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiven/profile
6 Quick Writing Exercises to Wake Up Your Imagination
We all hit those blah writing days. Your fingers are ready, your doc is open... and your brain goes static. That’s where writing exercises come in — small creative boosts to shake off the dust and get back into your story flow. Here are six to try when your words feel stuck in traffic.
1. The 5-Minute Word Sprint
Pick a random word (use a generator or close your eyes and point at a book), set a 5-minute timer, and write anything involving that word. No stopping, no deleting.
2. Dialogue Without Context
Write a short convo between two people. No descriptions. No setting. Just back-and-forth lines.
3. Rewrite a Scene in Another Genre
Take a scene from your current story and flip the genre. Drama becomes comedy. Fantasy becomes sci-fi. Romance becomes horror.
4. Describe a Place Using the Five Senses — No Sight Allowed
Can’t mention what anything looks like. Only sound, touch, smell, taste, and intuition.
5. Character Swap POVs
Write a paragraph from the POV of a side character reacting to your main character. Bonus if the POV is brutally honest or completely wrong.
6. One Line Story Hooks
Write 3 one-sentence story starters that make you want to keep writing. (Example: “I woke up married to my enemy, and worse — he knew it before I did.”)
You don’t need to write a masterpiece every day. But showing up — even for a silly exercise — keeps the creative part of your brain warmed up. Try one of these before your next writing session, and see where it takes you. 🍒
✦ People don’t always cry. shocking, I know. sometimes someone just sits there like a polite zombie, nodding and saying “okay” while their soul quietly packs a bag and moves out the back of their skull. They might want to cry, but also they might just go numb and stare at the salt shaker for ten minutes. Both are valid guys.
✦ Most breakups aren’t a single moment, they’re a slow unraveling that ends in a conversation, so even if your character feels blindsided, it should still carry that surreal “I should’ve seen this coming” haze. Because breakups rarely just drop out of the sky.
✦ The dumbest details stick, like seriously, no one remembers the whole speech, but they’ll remember the scratchy napkin, the weird buzz of a light, that their ex had mustard on their cheek and didn’t notice.
✦ You can always feel a breakup coming. no one says “we need to talk” out of nowhere, because people act different right before. overly nice. extra distant. weirdly cold or weirdly warm. characters should notice that, even if they can’t quite name what it is yet.
✦ Sometimes people still love each other. like, actually still love each other. it’s not always about the love being gone, no. It can be timing, fear, baggage, a hundred other things that get in the way. let your characters say “I love you” and still not stay. It hurts and it’s real.
✦ Closure? lol. most people don’t get it. a lot of breakups end with “wait, that’s it?” or a message that never gets sent or that one thing you almost said but didn’t. There’s rarely a satisfying ending.
✦ No one speaks in perfect sentences mid-breakup. people ramble. they say sorry three times and mean something different every time. Someone’s trying to keep it light. someone else is cracking. sentences trail off. someone forgets how to use words entirely.
✦ After it’s over, people don’t always sob into a pint of ice cream. Some people shut down, some go out and party, some clean their entire room, rewatch a comfort show, or post a spicy selfie with “new era” energy. Everyone breaks differently, so let your characters be weird about it.
✦ And if your character is the one doing the breaking up, let them feel complicated... just because they’re ending it doesn’t mean it’s easy. They might feel guilty and relieved, or they might cry after. Maybe they might mourn the version of the relationship that only existed in their head.
I am not a "content creator" I am a writer and artist. I do not make the works that an audience demands, or that I think will be popular. I make the works that I'm passionate about, when I'm passionate about them.
Writing characters who almost say “i love you” (but never do)
(until they do, eventually, maybe.)
Some characters don’t fall in love quietly, not really. They fall in love loudly but refuse to say it, and not because they’re playing hard to get, but because they’re scared. Of messing things up, of not being loved back, or of saying too much and not being able to take it back. So instead, they almost say it. Over and over...
✶ They get close, like, painfully close.✶
It’s always on the edge of their tongue, but something stops them.
“I need to tell you something…”
“I’ve been thinking about you...about this.”
“You’re… important to me.”
They pause too long, they chicken out, the moment passes, and then they pretend it didn’t happen at all.
✶ There’s always something in the way ✶
Timing, fear, a phone call, a joke that kills the mood. One of them looks away and the moment slips through their fingers. And it’s so frustrating, and not just for the characters... for the reader too. Because it keeps almost happening, and then it doesn’t.
✶ They practice it in their head ✶
“I love you.”
“Has anyone ever told you how much you mean to me?”
“You’re it. You’re the one.”
They imagine saying it in the car, or on a walk, or at midnight when everything’s quiet. But when they’re actually in front of the person? It feels impossible.
✶ The other person knows. kind of. ✶
They feel it and hear it in the way they say their name. They see it in the way they look at them like the sun just walked into the room. But they’re scared too, so they wait... And wait, and wait. No one wants to be the first to fall without knowing the other person will catch them.
✶ When it finally happens, it’s never perfect ✶
It’s messy, blurted out, and maybe during an argument. Maybe after something awful happens and everything’s too raw to hide.
“I can’t keep pretending I don’t care.”
“You matter to me more than anyone else.”
“I love you, okay? I’ve been in love with you for forever.”
5 Tiny Writing Tips That Aren’t Talked About Enough (but work for me)
These are some lowkey underrated tips I’ve seen floating around writing communities — the kind that don’t get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.
1. Put “he/she/they” at the start of the sentence less often.
Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of
“She walked to the window,”
try
“The window creaked open under her touch.”
Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.
2. Don’t describe everything — describe what matters.
Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2–3 objects that say something.
“A half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the table”
sets a way stronger tone than
“There was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.”
3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.
Instead of:
"I'm fine," she said.
Try:
"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.
It helps shows emotion, and movement.
4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.
No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird — future you will thank you for at least something to edit.
5. When stuck, ask: “What’s the most fun thing that could happen next?”
Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesn’t have to stay — but chasing excitement can blast through writer’s block and give you ideas you actually want to write.
What’s a tip that unexpectedly helped with your writing? Let me know!! 🍒
Chapter 15: A Night at Cresswell manor is out for for The Art of Deception on AO3.
Three years after the war. The society of wizarding Britain is on the edge of another collapse. Birthrates are dwindling and the Ministry of Magic is struggling to contain the panic. Thus, one of the most invasive decrees in modern wizarding history is born. Marriage becomes law in all but name, binding couples under the Consumator to secure the survival of wizardkind. Old prejudices are replaced by new oppressions, and women bear the brunt of a society desperate to control them.
Faced with the grim realities of this new world, Hermione Granger finds herself cornered. That is, until Draco Malfoy unexpectedly offers her a way out.
She takes a breath. “You think I should marry someone?” His reflection holds hers and for a moment the only sound is the hum of distant conversation beyond the corridor. “No,” he says at last. “Not someone. Marry me.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
🕳️ What to Write When You Have No Idea What Happens Next
aka: you’re staring into the creative abyss and the abyss is not only staring back, it’s asking for a rough draft
hi writer. welcome to that fun little liminal space in your project where ✨absolutely nothing✨ makes sense. you wrote the last scene. you know you’re not at the end. but suddenly your characters are just standing there like NPCs waiting for a quest marker and your brain is doing the spinning beachball of death.
so. what now?
let’s break down some actually useful strategies for when you hit That Point™️. not vibes. not ✨manifest your way out✨ energy. not the “just keep writing” slog. here’s what to do when your story is refusing to tell you what happens next:
———————————————
zoom out: do a “scene audit”
———————————————
you don’t need a full outline to do this. take five minutes and sketch a bullet list of every scene that’s happened so far. not just what happened, but why it mattered.
like this:
MC lied to their boss (sets up stakes re: trust/power)
antagonist shows up at cafe (establishes tension + location crossover)
best friend gets suspicious (emotional complication, adds pressure)
this gives you a birds-eye view of what you’ve set in motion. often you’re stuck because you’ve lost sight of the threads you were pulling, your own story has momentum, you just need to feel it again.
open a doc. start typing what would happen, if you were writing. super casual. something like:
“okay i think the next scene is maybe them at the train station?? or wait--maybe we need to see the fallout of the argument. i don’t really know what x character wants rn but i think y might be planning something…”
this trick works bc it removes pressure. no fancy prose, no perfect structure. it’s literally you telling yourself what might happen. and weirdly? your brain will often finish the scene for you without asking. (the number of times I’ve ghost drafted myself into 800 usable words… witchcraft.)
——————————————————————————
pin your characters to a corkboard and interrogate them
——————————————————————————
not literally. (unless you're into that. i don’t judge.)
but seriously: when you’re stuck, it’s often because your character has no immediate goal or emotion. pause and ask:
what does this character want right now? like, in this moment?
what are they trying to avoid?
what’s keeping them from getting either?
character-driven scenes are rarely static. even if it’s just an awkward dinner or walking to the store, someone’s always trying to do or hide something. if everyone in the scene is just reacting or waiting, you’ve got fog. bring in the fire.
—————————————————
don’t skip the “boring” stuff--weaponize it
—————————————————
sometimes we’re stuck because we think the next scene is dull. like “ugh i guess they just… travel to the manor” or “they regroup at the safe house.” but these slow beats are GOLD if you embed purpose.
try giving the “boring” scene:
a time limit or interruption (they’re hiding but someone knocks)
a secret (someone is lying about something small but important)
a reversal (what they expected is the opposite of what happens)
even if it’s a quiet scene, layer it. conflict isn’t just yelling or action. it’s discomfort. it’s misalignment. tension between what’s said and unsaid.
—————————————————————
when all else fails: write the next emotional beat
—————————————————————
strip it back. forget plot. forget pacing. ask yourself:
then write that. a monologue. a journal entry. an outburst. a line of whispered dialogue.
sometimes it’s not that you don’t know what happens next. it’s that your character hasn’t processed what just happened, and until they do, the story can’t move forward.
✨✨✨
the void is normal. getting stuck doesn’t mean you failed or picked the wrong idea or that the muse packed up and left for a better writer’s house. it just means your brain needs space to regroup.
writing isn’t linear. stories aren’t built in perfect lines. they loop. they stall. they circle back. and that’s okay.
if you’re in the middle of nowhere, here’s your sign to sit on the side of the metaphorical road, open your weird little notebook, and write anyway. write wrong. write messy. write ghost drafts. the path shows up when you start walking.
🕳️ you got this, writer.
tag me if you end up crawling out of your stuck scene with a little victory paragraph. i’ll bring snacks for the next one 🧃✨
P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:
✦ A free (and actually helpful) guide to leveling up your first 10 pages ✦If you're unsure whether your opening is ✨doing enough✨ to hook re
Chapter 14: Blur is out for for The Art of Deception on AO3.
Three years after the war. The society of wizarding Britain is on the edge of another collapse. Birthrates are dwindling and the Ministry of Magic is struggling to contain the panic. Thus, one of the most invasive decrees in modern wizarding history is born. Marriage becomes law in all but name, binding couples under the Consumator to secure the survival of wizardkind. Old prejudices are replaced by new oppressions, and women bear the brunt of a society desperate to control them.
Faced with the grim realities of this new world, Hermione Granger finds herself cornered. That is, until Draco Malfoy unexpectedly offers her a way out.
She takes a breath. “You think I should marry someone?”
His reflection holds hers and for a moment the only sound is the hum of distant conversation beyond the corridor.
“No,” he says at last. “Not someone. Marry me.”
When a Character Feels Like They’re Losing Control
(Emotionally. Mentally. Internally. Completely.)
There’s a quiet kind of horror that comes with realizing you’re not okay and can’t fix it. When a character starts unraveling, it doesn’t always look like screaming or smashing things. Sometimes it’s the slow, subtle slipping of the reins...
╰ They overcompensate. Suddenly everything needs to be spotless, perfect, hyper-organized. Their planner is full, their schedule is packed, their smile is pinned on too tight. It’s not control, it’s panic dressed up in structure.
╰ They talk faster, louder or stop talking at all. They dominate conversations so they don’t have to think. Or they fall silent because words feel too risky. Either way, their voice is no longer safe territory.
╰ They get weird about small decisions. Choosing a sandwich becomes a full-body crisis. What should be easy isn’t, because nothing feels certain. It’s not about the sandwich. It’s about everything spinning too fast.
╰ They feel detached. Like they’re watching their life from a distance. They float above the room, disconnected from themselves, and laugh at things they don’t really find funny.
╰ They lash out in ways that don’t fit the moment. It’s never really about what triggered them. They explode over the dishes, or cry because someone asked if they’re okay. Their emotions are no longer matching the moment.
╰ They start avoiding mirrors. They don’t want to look at themselves, because they know. They know something’s off. They know their smile doesn’t reach their eyes. And they can’t face that truth yet.
╰ They apologize too much or not at all. They either spiral into guilt, overexplaining everything. Or they shut off and go stone-cold, too afraid that acknowledging the damage will make it real.
╰ They miss things. Conversations. Appointments. Easy tasks. Their brain is overwhelmed, trying to hold it together, and things slip through the cracks. And when they realize it, they panic more.
╰ They crave control but trust no one. They don’t delegate, don’t ask for help, because what if that help makes it worse? Trusting someone means letting go, and that’s the scariest thing of all right now.
╰ They feel like a passenger in their own life. There’s a version of them who used to be present. Who felt joy. Who wasn’t this… numb, terrified shell. And they don’t know where that person went, or how to bring them back.
beautiful words and phrases with "blood" for your next poem/story
Blood rain - rain colored red by dust from the air
Bloodbath - a great slaughter
Bloodberry - a tropical American herb (Rivina humilis) with racemes of red berries resembling those of pokeweed
Bloodcurdling - arousing fright or horror
Bloodguilt - guilt resulting from bloodshed
Bloodhound - any of a breed of large powerful hounds of European origin remarkable for acuteness of smell; a person keen in pursuit
Bloodlessness - deficiency in or free from blood; lacking in spirit or vitality; or in human feeling
Bloodletting - phlebotomy; bloodshed; elimination of personnel or resources; severe criticism
Bloodline - a sequence of direct ancestors especially in a pedigree
Bloodlust - desire for bloodshed
Bloodroot - a plant (Sanguinaria canadensis) of the poppy family having a red root and sap and bearing a solitary lobed leaf and white flower in early spring; also called: sanguinaria
Bloodshot - inflamed to redness
Bloodstain - a discoloration caused by blood
Bloodstock - horses of Thoroughbred breeding
Bloodstone - a green chalcedony sprinkled with red spots resembling blood; also called: heliotrope
Bloodstream - the flowing blood in a circulatory system; a mainstream of power or vitality
Bloodsucker - an animal that sucks blood; a person who sponges or preys on another
Bloodthirsty - eager for or marked by the shedding of blood, violence, or killing
Bloodwealth - an indemnity for murder paid in some African tribes to the family of the victim
Bloodworm - any of various pink to red worms
Bloodwort - a plant of the family Haemodoraceae the members of which contain a deep red coloring matter in the roots
Bloody bread - bleeding bread (i.e., bread containing reddish patches produced by a bacterium, Serratia marcescens)
Bloodybones - (archaic) hobgoblin, specter—used especially in the phrase, "rawhead and bloodybones"
Lifeblood - blood regarded as the seat of vitality; a vital or life-giving force or component
Oxblood - a moderate reddish brown
If this inspires your writing in any way, please tag me, or send me a link. I would love to read your work!
(Emotional meltdowns that don’t look like meltdowns, but absolutely are)
The “Smiling Too Much” Grief
Your character’s entire world is on fire, and they’re asking if anyone wants more wine. That’s not denial, it’s an effort to hold the damn pieces together. Smile like a glue gun. Watch them crack.
The “Not Crying At the Funeral” Breakdown
They don't shed a tear. They organize everything. Perfect speech. Perfect outfit. But a week later, they scream into the laundry basket over a missing sock. That’s the moment. That’s the eulogy.
The “Silent Dinner Table” Fight
No yelling. No slamming doors. Just chewing. Clinking silverware. The kind of silence that tastes like metal. Let the reader feel the air shrink.
The “Polite but Dead Inside” Apology
They say “Sorry” because it’s expected, not because they’re ready. Their voice doesn’t crack. Their eyes don’t meet yours. This isn’t healing. This is a peace treaty with no peace.
The “I Don’t Want to Talk About It” Detour
The one where they ask about your day mid-sob. Redirect. Deflect. “Let’s not talk about me.” That’s rage choked by shame. Write it like it’s shoving itself into a smaller box.
The “Obsessively Productive” Meltdown
New projects. New hobbies. Suddenly they’re running marathons, baking sourdough, fixing the garage door. Because if they sit still for one second, they’ll break. Keep the camera on them when they finally sit.
The “Unsent Letters” Grief
They write it all down. Every damn emotion. Then burn it. Or delete it. Or hide it in a shoebox under their bed. It’s not for closure. It’s to let the ghosts know they were seen.
The “I’m Fine” That Echoes
Delivered too fast. Too sharp. You could bounce a quarter off it. “I’m fine” isn’t fine. It’s the dam cracking. Listen to the echo. Let another character hear the hollowness.
The “Hyper-Logical Rant” Rage
They argue with spreadsheets. With perfect bullet points. Cold rage—like ice, not fire. “I’m not mad, I’m just saying…” But that’s a lie. They’re volcanic under that clipboard.
The “Laughing in the Middle of the Breakdown” Moment
That bitter, hysterical laugh. The kind that sounds more like sobbing with teeth. Let it come at the worst time. Let it shock even them. That’s emotion refusing to stay boxed in.
basically, it's the mixing formal and informal language.
1. Breaking Tension with Absurdity
Imagine you’ve just written an emotionally intense scene. Your character is standing on the edge of a cliff, contemplating life, death, and stuff.
Formal/High Register: "The cold wind lashed against her skin, as though nature itself sought to strip away any last remnants of warmth, of hope. She could feel her heart, beating erratically, a frantic drum echoing through her veins."
And then, right when the tension is at its peak, you suddenly drop in...
Informal/Low Register: "She tugged at her boot, cursing under her breath as it got stuck. ‘For god's sake, now’s not the time for this,’ she muttered."
Now, instead of dragging the reader down into despair, you’ve briefly punctuated the seriousness of the moment with absurdity. This not only lightens the mood but also heightens the emotional gravity when the serious moment returns. The levity makes the stakes feel more intense because, even in a life-or-death scenario, life keeps going—and sometimes, that’s just really annoying.
2. Creating Dramatic Irony with High Register in Stressful Moments
Another way to use this technique is by throwing high register language into moments of extreme stress or fear. It’s like when a character uses overly formal, eloquent language at the worst possible time.
Low Register: He was cornered, backed into a dark alley with no way out, the sound of footsteps closing in. His pulse pounded in his ears, fingers trembling.
Then, in a panic, he might say something way too formal for the moment:
High Register: As it appears I have reached an impasse. Might I inquire as to the purpose of this most precarious encounter?
The use of high register here creates a sense of disconnection—the character’s formality feels completely out of place in such a visceral, dangerous moment. The tension is amplified because it’s clear that the character doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation—or maybe they’re so overwhelmed they’re overthinking their response.
TL;DR: Mixing high and low register in your writing isn’t just a fancy stylistic choice—it’s a great way to mess with emotional tension, highlight the absurdity of serious moments, or show how someone is struggling to maintain control in the face of fear.
I’ve run into this so many times in books before, but it’s only now that I realize there’s an actual name for it.
