#writing community

[sourdough-seal]

hyperfixation please stay with me long enough to complete the project. hyperfixation do not fade. hyperfixation finish what you started for the love of god

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

fanfic writing culture isn’t “oh dang! I wanted to write about this prompt with this character but someone else already wrote it, so now I can’t”.

fanfic writing culture is always “two cakes is better than one. the more the merrier. there can ever be enough fics of this character with this prompt!”

[melodicwriter]

[bebx]

[hayatheauthor]

100 Dialogue Tags You Can Use Instead of “Said”

For the writers struggling to rid themselves of the classic ‘said’. Some are repeated in different categories since they fit multiple ones (but those are counted once so it adds up to 100 new words). 

1. Neutral Tags 

Straightforward and unobtrusive dialogue tags: 

Added, Replied, Stated, Remarked, Responded, Observed, Acknowledged, Commented, Noted, Voiced, Expressed, Shared, Answered, Mentioned, Declared.

2. Questioning Tags 

Curious, interrogative dialogue tags:

Asked, Queried, Wondered, Probed, Inquired, Requested, Pondered, Demanded, Challenged, Interjected, Investigated, Countered, Snapped, Pleaded, Insisted.

3. Emotive Tags 

Emotional dialogue tags:

Exclaimed, Shouted, Sobbed, Whispered, Cried, Hissed, Gasped, Laughed, Screamed, Stammered, Wailed, Murmured, Snarled, Choked, Barked.

4. Descriptive Tags 

Insightful, tonal dialogue tags: 

Muttered, Mumbled, Yelled, Uttered, Roared, Bellowed, Drawled, Spoke, Shrieked, Boomed, Snapped, Groaned, Rasped, Purred, Croaked.

5. Action-Oriented Tags 

Movement-based dialogue tags: 

Announced, Admitted, Interrupted, Joked, Suggested, Offered, Explained, Repeated, Advised, Warned, Agreed, Confirmed, Ordered, Reassured, Stated.

6. Conflict Tags 

Argumentative, defiant dialogue tags:

Argued, Snapped, Retorted, Rebuked, Disputed, Objected, Contested, Barked, Protested, Countered, Growled, Scoffed, Sneered, Challenged, Huffed.

7. Agreement Tags 

Understanding, compliant dialogue tags: 

Agreed, Assented, Nodded, Confirmed, Replied, Conceded, Acknowledged, Accepted, Affirmed, Yielded, Supported, Echoed, Consented, Promised, Concurred.

8. Disagreement Tags 

Resistant, defiant dialogue tags: 

Denied, Disagreed, Refused, Argued, Contradicted, Insisted, Protested, Objected, Rejected, Declined, Countered, Challenged, Snubbed, Dismissed, Rebuked.

9. Confused Tags 

Hesitant, uncertain dialogue tags:

Stammered, Hesitated, Fumbled, Babbled, Mumbled, Faltered, Stumbled, Wondered, Pondered, Stuttered, Blurted, Doubted, Confessed, Vacillated.

10. Surprise Tags

Shock-inducing dialogue tags:

Gasped, Stunned, Exclaimed, Blurted, Wondered, Staggered, Marvelled, Breathed, Recoiled, Jumped, Yelped, Shrieked, Stammered.

Note: everyone is entitled to their own opinion. No I am NOT telling people to abandon said and use these. Yes I understand that said is often good enough, but sometimes you WANT to draw attention to how the character is speaking. If you think adding an action/movement to your dialogue is 'good enough' hate to break it to you but that ruins immersion much more than a casual 'mumbled'. And for the last time: this is just a resource list, CALM DOWN. Hope that covers all the annoyingly redundant replies :)

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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[urfriendlywriter]

25 "you've no idea what you do to me," vulnerability dialogue prompts !!

(feel free to use <333 tag me when yall write!! my favs are 5!! 10, 3 )

"God, I need you."

"I've craved this more nights than I can remember." :'')

"Would it assure you if I say.. that I'd be honored to protect your vulnerability with me?"

when you both sleep together after a traumatic event, you holding them

^ they silently whisper, "I'm scared.. That you'll leave me once you see how much I need you. that this love will consume me, make me.. clingy, and you'll see I'm just.. broken"

"Can you hug me?" By a really vulnerable you and they still at the request before one hand moves to your back, holding you against them - perhaps more tightly than necessary.

They make a choked sound, half laugh, half sob, pressing their forehead against yours, "What would I be without you?"

"Would you... would you be okay if I put my arm around your shoulders? Like, hugging you from the side?"

^ "Would u want to?" you ask but they hadn't expected you to ask if they wanted to. your question implies that you care about their feelings too, and it touches something deep within them. "Yes," they admit softly. "I do."

Cuddling but its them on top resting their ear over ur heart and listening to its beatssssss

3 am truth exchanges and both your voices are really quiet, intimate and genuine, eyes shining with lots of emotions that you both honor and hold close.

[inkofthevoid]

Whispers From The Void

Dear stranger,

If you've found your way here by fate, accident or a curios click, then hello! This quiet little space is where I share my thoughts, musings, and the soft stories that find their way to me.

This blog is a collection of letters. Not the kind seales in envelope, but ones addressed to feelings, places, people, and maybe even to you. I'll be writing anything that speaks to me such as letters, memories, a moment or a stranger that I see on the street.

Every post will be a small note to the world, shaped in ink and heart. Some of these letters may feel like whispers, others like forgotten echoes. But they're all fragments of the void captured in words.

So whether you're a frequent visitor or just passing through, I hope you find something here that makes you pause ♡

Yours in ink,

Inkofthevoid

[chekov-in-a-dress]

if you think any of these have decent vibes you can meet them in The Mysteries of Eleanor Street

reblog for a permanent +5 charisma

[angelanimedesaray]

Yes.

Soft is a tone, whisper is a volume.

Soft is tenderness.

Whisper is a secret being given a voice.

"I know adverbs are controversial, but "said softly" means something different than 'whispered' and this is the hill I will die on."

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ SUMMER MEMORIES ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Reader Who Likes To Draw

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You doodle when you’re bored. You doodle when you’re sad. You doodle when ENA’s talking about a “high-risk divestment strategy involving artificial soap and stolen cafeteria spoons.” And at some point, you started doodling her. It’s not just her whole self—though that too, many times. Sometimes it’s just the curve of her clawed hand reaching for a megaphone. Sometimes it’s her striped suspenders tangled around a heart. When ENA notices, her Salesperson side lights up like a SALE sign. “Ohhhh. What’s this? That triangle is my face! Do you find me marketable? Beautiful? Business-presentable?” You nod. The Meanie stares. “Gross. Now we’re a MUSE? Ew. I’ll be charging you royalties for my likeness.”

☆ She finds the sketchbook one day when you’re away—left on a folding chair by a half-eaten pastry and an unopened bottle of fizzy coffee. She’s not snooping, no, not at all. Salesperson insists she’s “simply browsing local investments!” The first ten pages are filled with swirled lines, nervous clutter, random eyes. But then she sees herself. Over and over. Her bent legs, her hair curling wrong in the wind, her Meanie side squished into a heart-shaped frame. She freezes. Then she flips the pages again. Faster. Slower. Backward. She eventually whispers: “I look like someone’s safe place in here.”

☆ After that, ENA starts posing. Not directly. That would be weird. And vulnerable. So instead, she just happens to linger in dramatic stances longer than necessary. Flinging her arms toward the sky like a puppet cut loose. Curling on a desk with a fake frown. Standing by the megaphone with her head tilted at exactly 37 degrees. “My right angle is better for composition, by the way,” she mutters, fake-casual. “Stop telling them that,” Meanie snaps. “You look like an expired crayon.”

☆ You doodle her in the margins of receipts. On the back of pamphlets. In the corner of forms she begged you to fill out (“Sign here to legally acknowledge the weight of our friendship.”) ENA doesn’t get mad. Not really. She just starts leaving blank forms around on purpose. Sticky notes with “FOR DRAWING PURPOSES” scribbled in all-caps. One day she hands you an envelope. It’s empty except for a note inside that says: “Put more of me inside, please. Thank you for your service to the brand.”

☆ She watches you draw one day. Quietly. Which is rare for her. You’re sitting against a wall by the noise garden, sketchbook on your knees, tongue poking out a little from concentration. ENA crouches beside you and doesn’t say anything for a whole minute. Then five. At the six-minute mark, she finally mumbles: “You only draw the good parts.” Her voice is all Meanie. Soft. Sincere. And she won’t look at you when she says it.

☆ She starts giving you feedback. “Bigger shoulders—make me more powerful! Like a tank top model with clawed ambition!” “YOU MISSED THE HAT. DRAW THE HAT OR SO HELP ME I’LL SUE.” “You made me look too nice in this one. I look like I forgive people.” Despite the commentary, she keeps them. Every doodle you give her—ripped-out pages, napkin sketches, whatever—gets tucked neatly into a growing portfolio. You caught her one night whispering to it like a bedtime story.

☆ You try to draw her when she’s upset. Not meltdown upset—just quiet. Twitchy. Detached. Her mouth stuck in a not-smile. You sketch the tension in her shoulders, the downward tilt of her hat. You don’t show her those pages. But she finds them. Of course she does. “Is this how I look when I’m breaking in half? …Accurate.” She tilts the sketch. “But you drew me like I’m still loved, even then.” She doesn’t tear it up. She folds it gently and puts it in her cap.

☆ One day, she draws you. Sort of. It’s lopsided. Chaotic. The head is too big and the hands are just rectangles. But she gives it to you proudly, declaring: “This is YOU. You’re holding a flower and a sword and a bottle of ink and also a stress ball shaped like my face.” “You look pathetic,” Meanie mutters. “Pathetically important.”

☆ She asks you what each doodle means. You explain: That one was when she made you laugh so hard you choked. That one was when she got you out of the shadow hallway. That one was after she called you “a limited-time offer worth investing in.” ENA stares at you for a long time. Then says, “So I’m…a record? A message? A monument?” You blink. “You’re a muse.” She grins. “I’m also a tax deduction.”

☆ Eventually, she lets you draw her on her. You get a marker. A red one. She offers her arm with theatrical flair. “Brand me. Immortalize my essence. Turn me into a living portfolio!” You doodle a little heart on her clawed hand. Just one. Meanie stares at it, blinking fast. “…Dumb,” she mumbles, voice like cracked glass. Then quietly adds: “…Draw another one.”

[bebx]

[pukefactory]

•☽────✧˖°˖ TAKE SOME TIME ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: You Confined In ENA After Being Trapped In Her Reality For A Long While

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Reader pronouns: Not Specified

★ Genre: Short Story, SFW

★ Word Count: 1265

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

You don’t remember when ENA first took your hand. It probably wasn’t a momentous gesture, not even a gesture at all—just something that happened mid-monologue, mid-run, mid-deal gone haywire. One moment you were flinching at the yelling sky and the stairs that ran sideways, and the next you were being tugged forward by a mitten hand and a clawed one, ENA in her stripy suspenders skipping confidently into nonsense.

“THE BATHROOM IS THAT WAY,” she’d declared, pointing at a blinking neon orb hanging in a tree. You’d learned not to ask questions by then. Or at least not ones with answers.

Now you were in some place called the Marketplace of Ephemeral Trades, which ENA explained was either:

A) a bazaar where you could exchange your current mood for another,

B) a job fair for imaginary careers,

C) a scam,

or D) “YES.”

You cradled your overpriced juice (it tasted like memories of kindergarten) and tried not to wince every time someone’s head turned into fruit or a phone began sobbing behind a stall.

“I’ve been considering investing in… wrist confidence,” Salesperson ENA said thoughtfully, adjusting her cap. “Strong wrists? Very persuasive. Not for strangulation, of course—unless I’m pitching a mob boss.”

“Or resisting an existential collapse,” you mumbled.

“Exactly! Cross-marketability!”

She was always like this. Half-interested, half-deep, half-jumping-through-sentient-hula-hoops just to get from point A to point Q. Even Meanie ENA (the one that barked into megaphones and cursed at sand) didn’t entirely know what they were doing. You were pretty sure no one in this world did.

But ENA made it survivable.

Even now, walking through this marketplace of wiggling perspectives and twitchy signs, she kept one eye on you. Not always the same eye. Sometimes it was a triangle, sometimes it blinked wrong. But she noticed when you stumbled, or when you flinched at a too-loud bell someone mistook for a baby.

“Would you like to scream into a pillow-sized coupon?” she offered helpfully. “It’s scented like meh.”

“I’m okay,” you said, lying like a badge pinned to your chest.

You weren’t okay.

You hadn’t been for a long time.

You’d been in this world—her world—for… you weren’t sure. Time made pancake flips here, randomly deciding to burn one side. It might’ve been days, or it might’ve been a second you couldn’t stop dreaming about. You didn’t exactly arrive so much as leak into the place, like a coffee spill no one cleaned up.

You remembered routine.

Waking up, brushing teeth, emails, masking smiles, fluorescent lights at the grocery store that made your spine crawl, being praised for doing things “normally” and then wondering if anyone actually knew what normal meant.

Now you lived in ENA’s pockets.

Sometimes literally. The striped ones were deceptively deep.

That night—if you could call it night, when the moon rotated between cartoon faces and equations—was the first time ENA invited you somewhere quiet.

Not funny quiet, not wrong quiet, not “we’re inside a living teacup that gurgles when we speak” quiet. Just quiet.

The “room” was a slow, dark hill that unfolded like a crumpled napkin. There were no walls. Just fog that politely minded its business. The stars above you flickered like old VCR static.

“THIS is the Department of Melancholy,” ENA whispered.

“…Is that real?”

Meanie ENA’s voice rumbled in the air beside you. “Of course it’s not real, YOU SUBURBAN SOCK MONKEY. It’s a name, not a tax form.”

But she didn’t sound angry. Not like usual.

“Why bring me here?” you asked, curling your knees to your chest. You didn’t want to be difficult. You just… always felt like a weird puzzle piece from the wrong box. In the real world. In this one too. Always.

“Because the other rooms were laughing at me,” said ENA flatly. “I required a setting that wouldn’t say snide things about my mental architecture.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. Loudly.

She turned to you, red side grinning like a birthday card.

“There it is,” she said, and leaned in, whispering like a market secret: “My favorite sound.”

The moment stretched. Not heavy. Just slow. You watched the mist blink around you, yawning in fractals. Somewhere in the distance, a vending machine wept coins.

“…Hey,” you said.

“HEY!” ENA echoed, then blinked. “Sorry. Habit.”

“No, it’s okay. Just… Can I be serious for a second?”

“Oh,” she said. “Are you dying?”

“What? No!”

“Oh. Good. Then yes, absolutely. Be serious. I’ll just… mm.” She dramatically zipped her mouth with a finger and tossed the invisible key into a puddle that squeaked.

You sighed. Looked up at the static stars. And let the words come out without shame. Without mask.

“This world,” you said slowly. “Still doesn’t make sense to me. Even after everything.”

ENA didn’t interrupt.

You swallowed, letting yourself feel the weight.

“And back home… the real world, I mean. That didn’t make sense either. It felt like I was wrong all the time. Too slow. Too fast. Too weird. Too—much. I had routines, I had ways to cope. But I never really fit.”

You didn’t cry. You weren’t going to cry. It wasn’t like that.

It wasn’t sadness. It was just…Truth.

“Not even in a sad way. Just… like I was never built for any of it. There, here, anywhere.”

You waited for her to make a joke. To pivot. To change the subject.

Instead, you felt her sit closer.

“…We are not in business with the universe,” ENA said softly. “The contract was written in invisible ink, and our manager keeps changing shape.”

“…What?”

“I’m saying,” she said, voice gentler than usual, “That what you’re feeling? That’s a reasonable response to unreasonable worlds.”

You laughed once, quietly. “You always say weird stuff like that.”

“Yes. But I always mean it.”

You turned your head.

She was looking at you with both sides now. Meanie and Salesperson. Stern and soft.

“You’re an anomaly,” she said. “But anomalies are just patterns nobody has seen enough to understand.”

“…Yeah,” you said. “But I’m tired of being an exception.”

Silence, thick as syrup.

“Then don’t be.”

“Huh?”

Her voice dropped low. Honest.

“Be a constant.”

“What, like a math problem?”

“No. Like a home.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“People think of ‘home’ as a place. A static object. A hearth, a hallway. But I’ve seen those. I’ve been inside castles made of teeth and apartments that bleed. And none of them felt like anything.” She tapped your shoulder with her claw-hand. “You? You feel like something.”

Your voice came out, wobbly and stunned. “So do you.”

She tilted her head.

“ENA,” you said quietly, “You’re the only thing in this whole twisted reality that feels like home. Not in a… weird way. Not in a way where I need you to survive or whatever. But…”

You looked down at your hands.

“When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I have to pretend. I can exist. And that’s enough.”

She was quiet.

Too quiet.

You glanced up—and for once, saw both sides frozen.

Not yelling. Not selling. Not emoting.

Just… stunned.

You panicked. “Oh god. Was that too much? I wasn’t trying to—”

“No no no—SHUT UP, YOU EMOTIONAL CAVIAR,” Meanie ENA snapped.

Salesperson ENA broke in immediately: “Wha—what she means is—give us a second. Buffering.”

“Buffering?!”

“YES, buffering! You can’t just drop the ‘home’ word in a dreamland! That’s practically marriage!!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?! That’s not what I meant—”

“I KNOW,” they both said in unison. Then paused.

And then, softer, ENA added:

“But I’m glad you meant what you did.”

[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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[waywardsou2]

Some idiot: "Why are you reading your own fic, that's shallow and stupid"

All fanfic writers and writers everywhere: "Who the fuck do you think I wrote it for?!"

[sourdough-seal]

most important part of the writing process actually is when you loop a single song on max volume and stare at the word document and imagine the characters doing things for 14 hours. this is known as getting in the zone