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@starryeve88 / starryeve88.tumblr.com

"Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over." ◦ 18 ◦ ENFP ◦ @sunsoffline on Instagram ◦ read my work on Storybird ◦ asks are open!
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writeblr intro ✧・ﾟ

Heyo, so I’ve had this blog for a while but I didn’t decide to convert it into a proper writeblr until today, and I think I’m due for an introduction!

You can call me Star or Eve, whichever you prefer. I’m a sixteen year old girl from Hong Kong in love with all things creative, especially words and music. I’m fluent in English and Chinese, and I can speak enough Spanish to survive if you dumped me in the middle of Mallorca. My hobbies include fantasizing about OCs, doodling OCs, taking personality quizzes as my OCs, or creating OCs on Artbreeder during class… it’s OK I’m not delusional. Just passionate. And pumped to get to know you all!

I’ve roamed around the writeblr community for a while now, and can I just say yall are the most supportive, creative, inspiring bunch I’ve seen?? Never in my life have I seen so many like-minded individuals in one place; it’s awesome to discover that there are people out there as hyped about their WIPs as I am!

In my blog, I’ll be posting original content from my WIPs and OCs, as well as writing prompts, resources, and advice. I’ll also do a heck ton of reblogging and participate in tag games!

I’d love to get to know you guys, so feel free to add me to your taglists or pop up in my ask box/messages.

Some concepts I’m weak in the knees for:

  • elaborate heists/escapes, especially when the gang has to use their unique talents and work together !!
  • disguises (bonus if this is combined with the above)
  • found family.. 😳when they’re chaotic and dysfunctional but have each other’s back no matter what it’s just *chef’s kiss*
  • ENEMIES TO LOVERS. period. 
  • those romantic subplots that are so subtle you need to hunt for signs.. but the hints are everything!! aah
  • regency era; there’s something so utterly captivating about the aesthetic of that time.. also, the social hierarchy was insanely strict--> makes for some good storytelling
  • time/space travel!! space colonization? plundering the garbage heaps of outer space for raw materials to sell...
  • relatable cultural&racial&LGBT representation.. not some fake woke token character without a story.
  • traditionally feminine women that are strong and heroic!!! (the world needs more of this plz)

I’m new to this so I’d love to get to know people! If you write any of the above (or if you write anything, really) comment or reblog so I can follow you and we can hopefully support each other! Thank you guys :)

#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writeblr intro#new writeblr#writing#writeblr introduction#writeblr community#new to writeblr#introduction#introduce myself
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smileypeachh

the signs as moms

aries: the mom that is on the sidelines during her child’s every sports event, screeching her child’s name and waving banners. a mom that constantly finds new topics that fascinate her (e.g. quinoa in salads, or astrology), then loses interest after a day or so. the type of mom to say im vegan “from now on”, and a day later, is found scarfing down a plate of steak.

taurus: the type of mom that lets her kids skip class when they want to sleep in, and sleeps in with them. an introverted mom that’s happy to spend the weekend gaming on the couch, and books extra-curricular activities for her children just so she can watch That 70s Show in peace.

gemini: a mom into neighborhood gossip (and IS most of the gossip), who has a personality like a mask. one moment she’s chatting someone up and the next, she’s trash talking them. she’s the best hostess for her children’s friends - when she approves of them. this is the mom you do not mess with.

cancer: the most caring and intuitive mother on the spectrum - the type of mom that will cry with her children when they’re upset. a mother that is extremely family-oriented, one that organizes barbeques and family outings, and slips loving notes into her children’s packed lunches. probably will have a hard time seeing her kids leave the nest.

leo: the type of mom that aggressively promotes her child during conversations - “yes, just last year janice got an attendance record award! yes! MY daughter!”. keeps a lot of fancy furniture in her home, and is the type of mom that invites guests over just to show off her antique lamps. a mom that carries a sense of regality, and never lets her children forget it.

virgo: the type of mom that keeps a colour-coded calendar of all her tasks and her children's’ events, never misses a single birthday party or soccer game, and sends her children to tutoring because she knows it will benefit their futures. a mom that functions like clockwork wrapped in flesh and affection.

libra: a mom so outgoing and well-liked she gets invited to every social event, but still manages to spend time with her children. a woman that can commonly be found befriending strangers while in line for groceries, sparking conversations so fluid and vivid nobody would guess she spends hours in the bathroom each morning getting ready to go out.

scorpio: a mom that can be found curling up on the couch with a glass of wine on friday nights. a conservative, amorous woman that sometimes feels sentimental when she picks her kids up from school and is reminded of her childhood.

sagittarius: the type of mom that shows up to pick her kids up from school with spontaneous movie tickets in hand, and takes them on spur-of-the-moment excursions on the weekend. a mom that has souvenirs from all over the world cluttered on the house shelves.

capricorn: a high class woman with big bucks and more than one shiny car, that dresses in organic colours and expensive shoes. the type of mom that sends her children to cotillion because their dining manners are too rambunctious for the household.

aquarius: a mom that constantly misplaces her car keys, glasses and whatnot. an offbeat, unconventional woman that enjoys debates and dirty jokes, often introducing her children to concepts and content they shouldn’t know at their age. the type of mom that uses a creepy alien theory as a bedtime story.

pisces: a mom youthful and pure, commonly found learning the new slang and so-called “new hip dance moves” from her children. a mom that probably grows flowers in a tiny patch of soil in the backyard, and would rip her children’s limbs apart if they so much as touched one of the petals.

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WHG 17: Night One

Tagging: @concealeddarkness13 @written-in-gold @whgmasterofceremonies

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Night One— Meilan Liu

The winds are merciful tonight, so building a fire is a much easier task than usual, especially for a wilderness novice such as myself. I suppose my newfound companion's ability to shoot flames out of her palms helps too.

Chess raises her arms and a plume of flame wells up from the kindling. Amara and I gasp in the blast of heat. Amara's still holding the bottle of alcohol she pilfered from the Cornucopia. I'm assuming she intended to use it for fire-building. Maybe she can throw a cocktail party instead.

Chess turns back to us and grins, her lime-green hair dappled by the orange firelight. "All in a day's work."

Amara tosses her the groosling while I fish out the foldable tripod I found in Dep's tent today. Chess suggested we build the fire at the base of a large oak to escape detection. Seeing the smoke disappear into the foliage, I'm quietly impressed.

We settle around the fire as the groosling sizzles on the spit. The flames make my eyes water but I stare into them anyways. I don't dare look up.

Unfortunately, both Chess and Amara seem morbidly accepting of the colossal holograms of the dead that flit across the night sky. Chess, I'm sure, is familiar with the sight.

"I knew Zazu," says Chess, and her voice is impassive, the voice of a veteran fighter. "Nice kid. Always hungry, but I guess we all are, back in Twelve."

I hunch a little more, my cane digging into my side. I've never slept on an empty belly for a day in my life.

"Everyone's hungry," mutters Amara. "If not for food, then maybe for wealth, or power."

"Or revenge," Chess mutters. At this, I slide her a glance, but her violet eyes are still roving the sky, as if searching for a divine message. I've never seen her look so subdued. Back in training, Chess was the type of girl to dole out punches like playing cards, then blow you a kiss as your nose meets the mat. Here, under a sky that flicks through the faces of the dead like some grand, somnambulant blooper reel, her usually coy expression has melted into sorrow. I wonder who, or what, she's thinking about.

"I guess it's called the Hunger Games for a reason," I say finally. The others murmur their agreement.

The fire crackles. The groosling has turned a mouth-watering shade of golden brown. We don't even bother with cutlery; we just dig in, the meat piping hot between our fingers. After a few bites, my hunger dissipates, and I realize just how bone-tired I am. I could stretch out on the earth right now and sleep for days. But I know we're not staying here tonight. After dinner, we'll kick soil over the fire and steal away somewhere, perhaps to a copse of trees with branches thick enough to sleep on. By dawn, I'll be setting off alone. I'm not planning to make lasting friends here.

"I wonder what tomorrow will bring," I mutter, more to myself than to the others. By nightfall tomorrow, how many more faces will join the Capitol's vile exhibit? How much of their blood will linger on my knife? Will I see Amara's face up there, still smiling and resolute, even in death? Chess, with locks of green hair still staging an anti-gravity mutiny? And Safia, my old friend Safia, who once mistook a lotus-shaped hairpin for a bug and ended up gashing her hand trying to kill it, how is she faring? She's probably built another ridiculous contraption, the genius that she is.

Then my thoughts turn to someone else. "Have any of you heard news about Kito Faraji?" I say on impulse. A knowing smile quirks on Amara's lips and I immediately want to high-five the fire with my face.

"He elbowed me in the nose in the Cornucopia," says Chess with a shrug. "He grabbed this massive bag of fishing gear and just took off, leaving me with a jar of bait. Now neither of us can fish."

Amara snorts. "I had a tentative alliance going with him earlier today. But we split up to search for resources and afterwards, he just disappeared. Probably got mauled by a bear or something. Bleeding out in a ditch somewhere, too weak to cry for help."

I only observe them silently, but the other two burst out laughing. "Aww, Meilan, I'm just kidding!"

Suddenly I'm really thankful for the red firelight over my face.

"Would you save him if you could?" Chess asks.

I clench my cane a little tighter. "Why would you ask such a thing?" I can sooner sprout wings and fly than change how the game works. Only one of us, at most, will make it out alive.

Chess only retrieves her waterskin and takes a long swig. "Here, I've purified it." She presses it into my hands, and I'm about to tell her I'm not thirsty when I notice the tiny black script she's etched into the lining. Writing this here so the cameras don't see— maybe we don't have to play by their rules.

#writeblr hunger games#whg#whg 17#au
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tlysni-rose asked:

Hi there, your OC stabbed mine in writeblr hunger games.

Rip Charlie 😔👊

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😭😭 Utter condolences, Safia mistook him for a fowl!!

^ I realize that this isn't particularly comforting... so maybe it's better if you heard it from Safia herself...

Night One— Safia Sauda

TW: Violence, murder

Michelangelo is my spirit animal. Why? We both have terrible fashion taste, a talent for ticking people off, and the minds of visionaries. Michelangelo saw the angel in the marble and carved until he set him free. I saw a speargun in the pipe I nabbed from Buzzkill's tent, and tinkered around until I had myself a straight shot at dinner. We're practically the same person.

I'd never built a weapon before, not in my eighteen years as a human nor my ten years as an inventor. But, thanks to the bounty I scored at the raid today, it was pretty smooth sailing. Who knew Buzzkill had a whole toolbox to herself? All I had to do was weld the pipe into a horseshoe, shove in chips of a spanner, then loop it with a rubber tube as a release mechanism. By late afternoon, I had my spear loaded and ready to fire.

Unfortunately, a loaded speargun can't make hunger go away by itself. The forest is empty of game, and the waters haven't been generous either. I've been wading through the marshes for half an hour already, and the only thing I've managed to accumulate is the disposition of a wet rat. I wonder if Caide is watching me from home, laughing at how stupid I look. He has a knack for making light of the worst situations.

I cut a glance at the deepening sky. In ten minutes, I won't be able to see a thing. Mama would probably have a stroke if I dunked my face in slimy river water my first night in the arena. Caide would probably take pictures of my sodden face and make a profit circulating them across the whole District. I'm contemplating just calling it a night and going hungry when a rustle sounds nearby.

I have to turn up my hearing aid before I find the source of the sound: a dark, hunched blot scurrying through the reeds to my right. A fowl, finally. Salvation.

I dive into the reeds behind it. It's fast, slipping and sliding through the swampland like one of those jerky, lopsided marionettes from the old commercials, but I gain ground pretty quickly, thanking morning-me for dousing my soles in traction spray. My speargun clanks against my shoulder but I'm too preoccupied to even notice the weight.

The sky is darkening quicker now, bloated and purple, and the marsh writhes with shadow. I veto my frail heart's protests and force my feet to pump faster.

Finally, the reeds part. We've stumbled onto a clearing. I spot the fowl resting by a nearby tree, shadows lengthening across its figure. Seizing my chance, I hoist the speargun to my chest and fire.

I think I hear a faint "waitwaitwait—" but my spear has already struck its mark. And there I go, sprinting towards the tree, barely containing my pride, plucking out my spear and dragging my catch out of the shadow, into the dregs of light that linger in the ripening dusk.

My speargun hits the ground with a wumph. That's not a fowl.

#whg#whg17#writeblr hunger games#hunger games#au
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WHG Prompt 7: The Interview

"Next, we have the songbird of the season— Meilan Liu of District One. Please welcome her to the stage!"

Oh, and what a beautiful, opulent stage it is! Wide and gold-wrought, its border starkly contoured in glittering white lights; and then across, the stadium keening with people, rabid spectators in their coiffures and wine-coloured gowns, as colourful and unwieldy as the bulbs of rock candy Mama used to buy me after a particularly taxing surgery.

Caesar Flickerman is no different, decked head to toe in blazing orange. He gallantly offers me an arm. Even though I don't need his help, I let him lower me onto the cushions and lean my cane against the armrest. "Thank you, Mr. Flickerman."

"Anything to accommodate you," he replies, with a vague gesture that I instantly understand.

I shift ever so subtly and a slip of emerald fabric parts, revealing my right foot. Gasps resound throughout the stadium.

To those who haven't seen it before, my clubfoot might be the biggest novelty since spray tights. When people come upon it, some instantly recoil, some lunge to coddle me, but none of them ever look away. Humans have a morbid fascination with the things we deem beneath us.

"That's right, everybody, the Games will no doubt be especially daunting for young Meilan here." Caesar Flickerman leans forward, brows squirming sympathetically. "Tell me, Meilan, how does it feel for a physically..." He sifts through his words. "...disadvantaged person such as yourself to go up against such ruthless competition?"

The audience holds their breath. I let my shoulders sag by a hair, musing for a while before I speak. "You know, the pressure is certainly on. I don't have the gym build or motor skills of the other contestants. I definitely can't outpace them, and I probably can't outwrestle them, either." A soft murmur slides through the crowd. "But, I truly believe that times like these bring us all together. And I know that as long as I keep sharing my vulnerabilities with you all, showing you that you don't have to be ashamed of being the underdog, your support will give me all the courage I need to keep on fighting."

The audience dissolves into searing applause. Some even launch their gumdrop-shaped hats into the air in solidarity. I can't help but smile.

In the flatscreen suspended above them, I see myself, quoted within the sheaves of my gown like a bird roosting in her bough. Although, it's not me, really— it is me in my game face. Fragile, heart-rending, Songbird Me.

Then my gaze pans further and I catch the glint of two brown eyes from deep within the wings, narrowed and resentful. I can practically see the twitch of his skeptic's brows, the loosely folded arms, the ramrod-straight back. Kito Faraji can see right through me.

Pressure mounts in my chest. I tear my gaze back to the contortionist apostrophes that are Flickerman's brows.

Idiot. You play to win. You've known this ever since your name was drawn from the glass.

I close my eyes, just for a brief second. And still you sustain yourself with intimacy, the very fodder for your undoing.

#writeblr hunger games#whg#hunger games#au
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westywrites

The Corvine - master post 2.0

In an unending, star-speckled sky, ravens keep watch. There is a tear in the barrier between realms. There is a prophecy about the children who might seal it.

When they turn sixteen, they’ll be adults. They’ll lose their jobs and the room they share at the factory in Herenzen - a city where dreams never reach higher than the looming smokestacks. Cambridge believes things will work out, but it doesn’t matter what she, Ivory or Avenir think, Lennox won’t wait that long.

He has an idea. A witch saved his life once, she could do it again. After all, she is Corvine. And Lennox believes magic like hers could change the world.

His plan to save his friends will lead them to a crossroads of destiny, with their freedom and the fate of two realms dangling at their fingertips.

Genre: YA fantasy // coming of age feat. magic // alternate history Setting: an alternate history/version of Earth with an additional (mostly Dutch) colonial country in North America POV: third-person limited, multiple povs Status: draft 2 completed, (93k words/prologue + 50 chps) Themes: the meaning of family // magic & power // hatred & anger vs love // destiny vs choice // the nature of humanity

photo transcripts, links, taglist, etc. below the cut. Thanks to @incandescent-creativity for reblogging all those cool wip presentations and giving me the idea to do this in presentation form

#please i am absolutely in love with everything about this aaaah#really checks all the boxes and more for my taste personally#wowie
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whgmasterofceremonies

WHG 17 - Official Reaping

The stage is set, and our performers get ready for their show! Gaze one last time at the full cast. Who will make it to the curtain call, and who will last be seen getting chased by a bear? Will technical difficulties derail the show before we can even get to the action? Let’s hope all goes well for us and goes spectacularly for the tributes.

May the odds be ever in your favor!

District 1

District 2

District 3

District 4

District 5

District 6

District 7

District 8

District 9

District 10

District 11

District 12

#ahh so excited#catch my babies meilan kito n safia#districts 1 2 n 3#writblr hunger games
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diphthongsfordays
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saintshigaraki

im so enamored with stories that portray love as something soft and kind because i do think that love at its core is an act of kindness. its part of the reason i prefer the idea of growing into love instead of falling in love because when i think of growing into love i think of a garden, like love is something to cultivate, to tend to daily, a steady progression of growth with some setbacks, a few dying leaves here and there, having to move to a bigger pot and a spot with more sunshine, but it’s still something that at the end of the month, or a year, or a decade, or a lifetime you can look at and see the product of your dedication, see exactly what it means to pour your heart into something. i just! love reading about kind love!

#i love this idea#it just makes me so happy ?? like ahh#am changed
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[Image description: a banner image of the Boston skyline, mostly comprised of buildings and trees. In the middle is a drawing of the sun in white. The bottom half of the sun is covered by waves. Overtop of the drawing, in all-caps cream serif font, is text that reads "The Boy From 5th Avenue". /end description]

The Boy From 5th Avenue | WIP intro.

Logline: Having just dropped out of college, a wayward soul finds himself alone in a new city until a family heirloom connects him to a boy from another world.

Genre: New Adult, Contemporary with speculative elements.

Setting: Boston, Massachusetts. USA. Modern Day.

Content Warnings: thoughts formed out of depression and anxiety, smoking, alcohol abuse.

Summary: In the summer following his departure from college, Avery del Rosario moves to Boston with only a bag of clothes, enough money for three months of rent, and an old portable radio that his father gave him before passing away. Struggling with his newfound sobriety, Avery finds himself in good company when his radio mysteriously connects him to Emile, a violinist living in New York City.

Together with Mickie, an enigmatic barista who lives in the apartment right above Avery's, Emile seeks to remind Avery of the beauty of living. As Avery and Emile get closer and eventually fall in love, the question of when they can meet in person becomes less and less hypothetical. It isn’t until multiple failed attempts that the young boys discover something so absurdly heartbreaking.

They aren’t just in two different cities. They’re in two different worlds.

Mostly told in third person, this book features sections in second person that tell of a life so beautiful you can tell it's just an illusion. Your early 20s can be so lonely, so full of grief and longing for something - anything - more grand than what you're actually facing. I wanted to capture those feelings and work through them with you.

The Boy From 5th Avenue stars two main characters -

  • Avery del Rosario: “You”, the wayward soul. A half-finished portrait; Avery, you are more than what your past paints you to be. Your life has only just begun.
  • Emile Richmond: “Him”, the butterfly prince. Handler of a white violin; Emile, your symphony includes more than your own breath. Have confidence.

And one side character -

  • Mickie Moore: “Her”, the divine companion. The torn pages of an unfinished memoir; Mickie, abandon shame and fear. It’s time to rewrite history.

If themes are more your style, this project includes a slow-burn romance between two trans characters (nonbinary x transmasc), nonlinear storytelling, a critique of American higher education, and lots of art metaphors.

Excerpt, from a dream you had once:

You have begun to write things down, because otherwise you’ll forget them later. Nothing pressing or urgent; to write those down instead of dealing with them immediately would be disastrous. Instead, you write down things – thoughts, memories – that make you happy. The neighbor’s daughter smiles like your mother, her lips slightly parted. The grapes you bought taste so sweet they make your mouth hurt. The sheets, fresh out of the dryer, are so warm that you almost doze off trying to fold them.

It’s been 55 days since your last drink. The boy reminds you. He reminds you because he knows you’re afraid to write it down, and he reminds you because he loves you.

And you love him back. You don’t write that down. You want to rediscover that, over and over and over again.

twitter // discord server // general taglist (I only have one!)

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starryeve88

my heart is preemptively broken </3

your prose is killer btw!!

#other people's wips
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ashen-crest

Announcement: pen name, website, & short story release!

Just what it says on the tin!

✨I’ve got a pen name now! It’s R.K. Ashwick.

✨I’ve also got a website! Right now, it has synopses, artwork, and a newsletter sign-up.

✨If you sign up for the newsletter, you’ll get Aspen, a free short story all about your favorite forest spirit!

The newsletter is honestly way less spam-y than it sounds. I won’t email more than once a month, and it’s a great way to keep up with my stuff if you leave Tumblr or if/when Tumblr goes down. Plus, you’ll get content there that won’t hit Tumblr until later! We’re talking snippets, artwork, book cover reveals, release dates, book-related recipes, a whole bunch of cool things. I’ll keep the emails short, too. Promise :)

[ID: a short story cover that’s a watercolor of an aspen branch. The text reads “Aspen” and “R.K. Ashwick.” end ID]

By the way, here’s the official cover for Aspen! You may recognize it from my watercolor a few months back. A big thank-you to @theramwrites for helping edit the story, and a big thank-you to everyone who beta-read it. Your feedback was immensely helpful. 💖

Would really appreciate it if you boosted this! Thank you to everyone who’s supported my writing this past year!!

Both TSS and RPS taglists under the cut, since the website pertains to both (ask to be +/-):

Keep reading

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starryeve88

yes yes 100% yes!!! already signed up for the newsletter, can't wait

#other people's wips
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Anonymous asked:

Heyo!

I'm your writeblr secret admirer (sorry that i'm a day late).

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I love your blog so much! You post a lot of really cool stories and thanks to you I feel a lot more connected to the community as a whole :D

I also am really grateful for how many new WIP's I've been able to find by perusing through what you've gathered. That was something that really made my day.

Anyway, I hope you have a really lovely valentine's!

Woo thank you so much <3 I really appreciate this, I hope you have a beautiful day

#sorry i replied so late!!
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writing-is-a-martial-art

I've been around writeblr for a few months now and never really made a proper intro, so here it is, something of an intro/re-intro mixture.

About me:

Hi, I'm Oleg! 17, they/them, ace. The rest I'm still trying to figure out myself. My native language is Russian, but I mostly write in English. Dog person. Cat person. Obsessed with learning languages. I try to be funny a lot more than my sense of humor can allow me.

About my writing:

I frequently write and post short stories, sometimes poetry, and I'm currently working on three bigger projects. I normally write fantasy and/or sci-fi, always with a touch of comedy. I love cosmic horror and I'm trying to explore the comedy-horror genre, even though I lean heavily into comedy.

My current projects:

Just Your Typical Fantasy Story is my main WIP. It's a fantasy/comedy/adventure that focuses on the adventures of Mary Chang, or Mary Sue, as she's called, as she becomes the Chosen One and has to defeat a Dark Empire. Heavily sarcastic. A lot of subverted tropes and subversion of expectations.

WIP Intro here

The Foolish, Foolish Stars is a fantasy/comedy/sci-fi story about Irik, a court jester, that has been abducted by aliens to rule an intergalactic empire, and Magician, their friend that's finding her way to space to rescue them. Ft. dragons, space pirates, and a lot of tomfooleries.

Masterpost here

An Inn at the Very End is a short sci-fi story about a mysterious place at the very edge of the universe and an Innkeeper who is trying to understand themself, their work, and their origin.

WIP Intro here

Sidelined projects:

A Tale of Daggers and Cupcakes is a fantasy/coming-of-age/adventure/romance/dark comedy retelling of the events in the life of Shikimalut, a female assassin from a culture where only women are allowed to kill. Set in the same world as JYTFS.

WIP Intro here

Cozy Little Horrors is my attempt at the comedy-horror genre, a rural fantasy that is slowly becoming the story of a vampire couple running a magical academy, with a side of tea parties, Eldritch Gods, and student loans.

Masterpost here

What to expect from my writeblr:

Original writing (sometimes), writing advice (mostly reblogs, but sometimes original), lots of worldbuilding/conlanging-related posts, and of course, writing memes.

Feel free to tag me for tag games and your writing, I'll try my best to respond and check out your work!

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starryeve88

All your projects seem so cool! I love the unique angle you take on these tropes; although I personally don't write satire, I'm a sucker for it. Would love to be added to the taglist for The Foolish, Foolish Stars :D

#other people's wips
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little-boats-on-a-lake
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secondlina

Here is “Knot”, a short comic I drew to sell at Mocca and TCAF this year. The printed version is going to be SO PRETTY. I’m in love with the cover (which I will post later).

I just wanted to do something fairy-tale-like that talked about doubts and frustrations and how to deal with them. I’m really happy with how colorful and adorable the story turned out to be. 

If you enjoyed “Knot”, please consider reblogging it and/or checking out my ongoing webcomic Namesake! HUGS TO ALL OF YOU!

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starryeve88

this comic made me so happy and afdjghsglkfj heart swell feelings

#other people's wips#other people's art
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ashen-crest

[ID: a digitally drawn banner. On the left, a man with light brown skin and dark, curly hair holds a lute with glowing flowers coming out of the sound hole. On the right, the text reads “The Stray Spirit.” end ID]

WIP Re-Intro: The Stray Spirit

Struggling bard Emry Karic has only one path home: impress the Auric Guild, join the ranks of the elite musicians therein, and return to his family with his honor in hand.
Difficult to do on a good day. Impossible to do with a possessed lute.
Just before the biggest performance of his life, a talkative forest spirit named Aspen traps themself in Emry’s lute. Emry swears the spirit to silence on stage, in exchange for a favor: he will help Aspen investigate the magical earthquake that forced them into the instrument.
But Emry is a bard, not a scholar, and their research leads them straight to the person who resents him the most: Cal Breslin, his academia-entrenched ex-girlfriend. As they delve into the forgotten mythology of spirits and gods, they uncover an ancient folktale. The tale recounts an earth-shattering quake, one whose magical energy consumed all living things as it swept across the country. The story’s details echo what Emry and Aspen experienced the night before.
And as the apocalypse looms, the Auric Guild taps Emry for a callback, throwing his family’s ultimatum into conflict with their very survival.

🌱The Basics 🌱

Light-hearted NA/adult fantasy with a romantic subplot, self-publishing this year! Recommended if you’re running in the opposite direction of grimdark. Think blankets and hot cocoa, Diana Wynne Jones and Tamora Pierce. I specialize in soft and emotional.

🌱Characters 🌱

Emry Karic: mid-20′s, anxious bard just doing his best. For better and for worse, he’s a man of his word.

Cal Breslin: mid-20′s, brilliant and slightly snobbish Academy student. Not thrilled that her ex-boyfriend is coming to her with a major metaphysical discovery stuck in his lute.

Aspen: 140 going on 14. Childish, curious, energetic, naive. Just wants to protect their grove.

🌱Themes & Tropes 🌱

Prodigal son, exes to lovers, self-esteem, luck, facing fears, truth within myths, Friendship™, found family of the “I am adopting myself into this family” flavor

🌱More Info! 🌱

My pinned post will have links to character posts, the WIP intro page, side drabbles, and a list of the WIP’s main tags.

I also have a taglist! If you want to get notifs (~once a week, likely less) for upcoming character posts, snippets, artwork, and release updates, please ask/DM/reply to join.

TSS Taglist under the cut:

Keep reading

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starryeve88

i love this re-intro!! :D

#reblogging till i die#other people's wips
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reblogged
writing-with-melon
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heywriters

Building/Architectural Terms for Writers

Trying to find a good word today and found these bookmark-worthy sites! Hope they help other writers with their descriptions.

#this might be useful hehe#writing ref
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