Archive by Author
24 Feb

Do yourselves a favour, everyone, and check out this cosplayer. She is seriously amazing.

I mean, look at this thing. She made this entirely herself. Go check out her stuff. It’s awesome.



All the tree puns

14 Feb

So a webcomic I’m reading updated a page that involved using a magical acorn against the villain, and… well, this golden conversation happened.

If anyone ever needs a tree-related pun, here’s a hefty collection of them.

(I must admit, I’m pretty proud of myself on that last one xD)


all the tree puns xD


12 Dec

I know this isn’t really writing-related (but it is, because we’re all nerdy), but I found this recently and thought it might be appreciated. Good luck with finals everyone!


Character building

14 Oct

So, for anyone who was asking about questions to ask about characters in order to define them better, here’s a link to one spot i found at NaNoWriMo. It’s not the same one I found last time on that site, but it’s probably a good place to start:


30 Sep

Hey guys,

So I’m basically learning how this blog works and how to post stuff, haha, so I’ll post part of the world-building prompt we did today. My main hat topics were the two colors we got, and pigeons. What I’m describing is part of a world I’d already created, and it’s told from the protagonist’s perspective. There are a few invented words in here, but bear in mind that this is an Elf with a Scottish highland accent in an alternate fantasy world.

–The walls were green, the streets were brown. That was Ardaley, in a sentence. Of course, Rist had a flair for poetry, so he called the flat grey-green of the village houses “afternoon nap”, and the dark dirt-brown roads “vintage satchel”. But that was just Rist. The walls were green, the streets were brown. That was it.

It was quaint, even so. From the short little entrance arch at the foot of the hill, a well-marked dirt road wound its way around houses and shops. Around them, not between them. Just for fun. The houses themselves–greenish-gray– adapted to the shape of the landscape, as Elven houses were prone to do. And because the population was mostly Elves, the houses just couldn’t go without a little flower bush here, a stout sapling over there. And again because it was Elves, no doorframe or windowpane went without swirls and carvings and braided designs snaking their way along the wood.
It was a quaint little place.

The only problem? It was packed-filled with pigeons. Blow the little buggers. They were everywhere. Nesting in the chimneys, loitering on fenceposts, slopping on the windowsills. And people’s hats.
Spring was especially bad. Those nutcase birds would come by the hundreds and mob the village. One would trip on them on the way to the bakery, or have to hop off the wagon to shoo them out of the horses’ way. And they wouldn’t budge, the rascals. In fact, one could say that they considered themselves the lords of this town.
And if outsiders observed that the townsfolk of Ardaley were more keen-awared than most, it was because of the pigeons. One had to always be on guard. Many an unwary chap had been thonked in the head by an intrepid bird on a mission. Dangerous, pigeons were.–