jessiec-writes-fantasy

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

write a new scene → realize it contradicts something from chapter 3 → fix chapter 3 → now chapter 7 makes no sense → cry → repeat

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

writing advice: never italicize words to show emphasis! if you’re writing well then the reader will know and you don’t need them!

me: oh really??? listen up, pal, you can just try an pull italics from my cold, dead fingers

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

I assure you: somebody, somewhere, is on the exact same wavelength as you are.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

Reblog if your art project has not, does not, and never will make use of generative ai at any point in your creative process.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

Chapter 15 - Comfort

It gives me great pleasure to announce the release of Chapter 15 for Iridensia: The Aspect War!

If you've never heard of Iridensia before you can find Chapter 1 right here and embark on Lissandra's tale as an interplanar threat turns her life upside down forever.

Tag List:

@paeliae-occasionally @an-indecisive-nerd @thelovelymachinery @mysticstarlightduck @illarian-rambling

@thecomfywriter @letterboxd-in @sennasanthia @ominous-faechild @madelinerosales

@aether-wasteland-s @leahnardo-da-veggie @gravesmistake314

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

When a Character Is Grieving Someone They Never Got to Say Goodbye To

✧ They talk about the person in past tense… then correct themselves. Then stop talking entirely.

✧ They touch things that belonged to the person like they’re fragile, sacred, about to disappear.

✧ They hoard the last voicemail, last message, last anything. Play it. Don’t play it. Just knowing it exists hurts enough.

✧ They leave something untouched, an empty seat, a half-packed bag, a coffee order that isn’t theirs.

✧ They get irrationally angry when someone else seems to be “moving on.” As if forgetting is betrayal.

✧ They don’t let themselves cry all at once. It comes in pieces. Like they’re afraid too much grief will drown them.

✧ They over-apologize. For being quiet. For being distant. For not being okay.

✧ They become hyper-aware of time, dates, anniversaries, time zones, the exact moment everything ended.

✧ They get superstitious. Ritualistic. As if doing things "right" might reverse something.

✧ They smile when they talk about the person. But it’s brittle. And it never quite touches their eyes.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

WRITEBLR - ASK GAME

an ask game based on my magic system! no knowledge or context needed!

AIR - What's the first thing you ever wrote, and what inspired it?

BEASTS - Do you have any original characters that are just normal animals?

BLOOD - Have you ever killed off the main character at the end of the story?

CHANGE - What genres do you write?

COSTUME - What's harder to describe: settings or clothes?

COURAGE - What is the first piece of writing you ever shared publicly?

CREATION - What drives you to create?

DARKNESS - Which of your original characters is the most evil?

DEATH - Do you enjoy killing off characters?

DESIRE - What would be your writing-related dream come true?

DESTRUCTION - What's the hardest criticism you've ever received?

DISEASE - How would your characters react if they met you?

DREAMS - Do you dream of your stories at night?

EARTH - Do you prefer worldbuilding or character creation?

ENERGY - How much do you usually write every week?

ENVY - Who is your favourite author?

EYES - What's the best compliment you ever received for your writing?

FATE - Planning or pantsing?

FEAR - What's your greatest writing-related fear?

FIRE - Do you prefer to write stories that are contemporary or fantastical?

FLESH - What's the grossest scene you've ever written?

FORCE - Would you rather write about superheroes or about an apocalypse?

GLUTTONY - Do you like to describe food?

GREED - Would you rather be a rich author or a famous authour?

GRIEF - Do you grieve characters that you've killed off?

HOPE - Are you a good writer?

ICE - What setting do you write most?

ILLUSION - What superpower would you want most to help with writing?

LIGHT - If you write fantasy, have you invented your own constellations?

LOVE - Do you love writing most over every other aspect of your life?

LUST - Would you kiss any of your ocs?

METAL - What do you use to write?

MIND - If you could snap your fingers and have your favourite story idea completely written... would you? Do you love the result or the process more?

MUNDANE - Who would you be if you were in your own book?

PAIN - Fluff or angst?

PAST - Do you have a complex backstory for every character you have?

PLANTS - Do you use symbolism?

PRIDE - Are you a good writer?

ROT - How many abandoned ideas do you have?

SILENCE - Do you write with sounds or silence?

SLOTH - What's your best writing hack?

SOUL - Do you view your ocs as your children?

SPACE - What font do you write in?

STORMS - Do you prefer your hero, love interest, sidekick, or villain?

STRENGTH - Rank your writing skills on a scale from 1 to 10!

TIME - Are you a quick writer?

TRUTH - Are any of your main characters based on you?

WATER - Mermaids or fairies?

WRATH - What's your biggest writer pet-peeve?

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

A Weight that can't be Escaped

Summary: Meredith gets a visit from the last being she ever wants to lay eyes on. Unfortunately for her, Ionah has a few hard truths to share.

Words: 677

Tags: @druidx, @asher-writes , @ashirisu ,, @lexiklecksi, @philosophika , @the-down-upside-finch

Warnings: angst and manipulation tactics

Notes: Blame this song for the inspiration. Also, I will never turn down the opportunity to have Meredith face her trauma.

Archlector Bloodvein sighed as she washed her face, chancing a glance into the mirror, only to freeze when a face that was not her own stared back at her. Grey-blue eyes narrowed and thin lips curled into a satisfied sneer beneath glossy black hair,

You really thought you were so clever trying to erase my existence from the history books, didn’t you?

Meredith Gruksdottir stepped back, fear momentarily gripping her heart at the sound of the all too familiar, imperious whisper in her ear. She scowled at the image in the mirror,

“Better for the knowledge that a mortal woman became a Demon Prince to be lost to history than for others to follow in yer footsteps.” she snapped. The woman in the mirror smirked and lazily looked down at her fingernails,

Oh, and how is that going right now, hmm? From where I’m sitting every attempt you’ve made at stamping out my followers entirely has failed and you didn’t exactly ask the goblin to not add in that little detail to his reports.

“Aye, but it’s not like anyone’s reading them.”

An elegantly raised eyebrow was all that met Meredith’s retort, causing doubt to grip her chest. Her scowl deepened into a glower as she reached for her Holy Symbol. Ionah simply chuckled,

Aw, it’s adorable that ye think abjuring me’s gonna work. Sorry hen, but I’m not that easy to be rid of. Especially when I’m partially just a reflection of yer own guilty conscience.

The glower on Meredith’s face didn’t lift as she snorted, pulled out her Holy Symbol and dangled it in front of her,

“Ye always were a terrible liar, Ionah. I honestly dinna ken why ye bother.”

Ionah simply clucked her tongue,

Half-truths aren’t lies, love. Besides, the only reason I’m managing this new little party trick is ‘cause you invited me in.

The glower lifted slightly into worried confusion,

“Why in all the godsdamned Hells would I invite you in?” Meredith growled. Ionah simply smiled languidly at her,

Oh I don’t know; maybe because ye’re finally starting to realise just how badly you failed as a mother? I’m just here as the pot finally calling the kettle out for being just as black.

A shot of phantom pain ripped through Meredith’s heart, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She fought down the impulse to shatter the mirror,

“I am nothing like you.” she ground out, “One mistake does not a monster make.”

You’re right, it doesn’t. A pity, then, that you made enough of them to make Llachlan believe that he is. The same way my own family did when I was his age, come to think on it.

Ice flooded through Meredith’s veins. Of course. Sorcery was an inherited trait. The Archlector swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat,

“Aye, well, at least there’s still time for things to be made right with Llachlan.” she retorted. Ionah’s smile turned to ice,

I am looking forward to seeing you try, she purred, In the meantime, I’ll just be over here reminding you exactly how and why you failed. And reminding you time and again that we’re truly more alike than you will ever want to admit to yourself.

Ionah cackled as Meredith’s temper finally boiled over and she let loose a bolt of magic into the mirror, shattering it. Ionah’s cackle reverberated in her ears even as the demon’s image faded from the mirror, leaving Meredith to stare forlornly at the fragments of her own face in the cracked glass that now littered the floor. She shuddered as she tried, failed, to contain the guilt and grief that gripped her, choking out a sob as she slid to the floor. Her Holy Symbol fell from her hand, the faint glow that had suffused it while she had held it guttering then fading slowly back to dull, grey metal as the Archlector of Moradin – the holiest dwarf in the entirety of the dwarven kingdom – finally allowed the dam she’d been trying to build around her heart to crumble.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

An Ode to the Sacrifice

For Day One of Writecamp by the lovely @agirlandherquill !

For today's piece, I used this prompt:

A mossy castle

Below is a conversation between Namon and his father when he was 12, when they were hiking in the woods one day.

Word count: 547

—

A choir not for this solemn hymn. Hummed alone by a father on this trail.

Namon trudged an uphill climb on a path gnarled by gravel and roots. His father climbed ahead of him, his wiry figure obscured by the fog.

"Not too far more." His father had a grace to his footsteps, one with the path's uneven nature. Stones slipped beneath Namon's feet, a near acquaintance with the ground.

To his left, he veered under a stone arch blotted by ivy. Saplings sprouted from the ground, reaching towards a sky betraying hints of blue between the clouds. The four walls suffered degrees of crumbling, the remnants held by green, fluffy moss.

"Son," his father's voice echoed behind him. "Ah, you're there. Don't venture astray now."

"I won't." He went under one of the arches, taking a foothold on the narrow steps beside him. He latched onto the wall and pulled upwards, his steps careful and calculated.

The top of the stairs brought him to a withered wall. He breathed, gripping onto a larger stone.

On the other side, the brush of woodland descended into a veranda of fields and more forests far away. In the far distance, a few mountains provided the backdrop, the name of which he forgot. But his father's warnings, a stronger imprint, alleging the presence of an ancient Helindian court hated by Helinda itself. "Hey, Dad, come look at this for a view." He waved his father up, beckoning him.

The man smiled and shook his head. "I'm sure it is. It had to be, considering that ruin was once a watchtower. It's a blessing it's gone to waste."

Namon tilted his head in curiosity. "Why so?"

The man had a tendency towards philosophy, his musings a frequent subject matter.

He descended the steps, sitting on them, following his father's beckoning as he rejoined him at the foot of the old tower.

"Back in my youth, times were different. See that graveyard over there?" He pointed to the nearby plot of statues, stone visages of those long gone. "All those people and more devoted themselves to keeping Seldaika off our shores. For years there would be nary a day we would not have to watch our backs."

"Did they win?" Namon asked. People died there, at that exact spot. A tribute to a story he didn't know. The thought gave him chills, a cool silence hollowing his mind.

"They didn't lose." His father's face told a tale of its own, neutral in expression yet his brown eyes glassy and sombre, focused. "Violence bears no winners, everyone suffers from it. In part from their efforts, we don't have to speak Seldaikan."

"Do you think they'll come back? The Seldaikans, I mean."

An idle question, causing his father to flinch. The silence permeated through both of them, father and son, stood over an ode to the sacrifices made.

The look in his father's eyes made him wonder if he should've asked.

"If they ever do, consider it a dark day for us all — the entire continent." A breath, and a gesture, the latter which Namon repeated.

His father put a hand on his shoulder, firm but assuring, distilling determination in a squeeze. "Whatever you do, make sure the watchtowers never go back in use."

—

Tagging the General taglist for this (ask/comment/reblog etc if you'd like to be added or subtracted): @mr-orion @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart-deactivated20 @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @honeybewrites @ashirisu @drowsy-quill @oliolioxenfreewrites @seastarblue @gioiaalbanoart @rae-butter @corinneglass @oros-ash3s @rainbowsnowflake @fourwingedwriter @oddcryptidwrites @ark-inkweaving @bardic-tales @agirlandherquill @wyked-rebellion @unriding

(Also, I'll be trying to do these Writecamp prompts for as many days as I have the time, so if anyone wants to be tagged for those, let me know :D)

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

if you’re stuck, add a meal scene. nothing brings characters together like emotionally fraught soup.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

Random Character Thoughts

tagging: @druidx and @asher-writes because you two will definitely get a kick out of this ramble and a bit.

On the note of Chrackle being the Best Character, apparently, I've been listening to the playlists again and have come to the conclusion that Chrackle is That "Pet" when it comes to Selene.

You know the one. The pet that seemingly hates everyone that comes onto their master or mistress until The One shows up that they either tolerate or absolutely adore themselves, and that just leaves everyone who knows said pet utterly confused and befuddled.

Chrackle, being a mostly wild bird, doesn't understand the nuances of human attraction. All he knows is that Selene does not care for this romance malarky, and does not like it when other people fail to understand this. So he's probably been pretty hostile to anyone that's tried to court Selene during her tenure as Grand Magus, if only because he's getting bombarded by Selene's feelings of 'ew, wtf?!' through their empathic connection and the suitor in question is totally ignoring those vibes.

Now imagine everyone's, bar Dwena's, surprise when Edwin shows up, is extremely obviously in love with Selene and basically not hiding that attraction and Chrackle does nothing about it. Ok, so Edwin, being the utter cinnamon roll gentleman that he is, doesn't make any moves on Selene at all, which is already a big plus. However, I think there were probably other men and women who, likewise, made no moves but were not subtle about their attraction who, nevertheless, were chased away from Selene's vicinity by Chrackle anyway. If Chrackle didn't like the idea of Selene getting into a relationship at all, Edwin being a close friend of them both would not stop him from being protective, though he might be a little more subtle about it than with everyone else due to said friendship.

I dunno, I just like the idea of half the wizard's tower noticing that Edwin isn't being divebombed every other visit and clocking that the bird actually Approves of this one.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

*very emblematic of disney sanitizing the fuck out of stitch.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

question for authors: what if the plot just. didn’t. didn’t happen. what if their world just stayed normal. what if they didn’t need to suffer the way a plot demands, grow the way their current arcs dictate. yk. what if nothing happened.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

A/S Project excerpt posted for Discord

Apathy

Iggy's back hurts from keeping it ramrod straight, but the nun is walking the aisle with her ruler. Moments ago, the slap of some other boy's hand and his instant, muffled howl made Iggy feel like his insides were slamming against his outsides like a TV cop putting his shoulder into a door.

It isn't the first time he's been this tired in his eleven years. There's familiarity in the popping sensation under his skin in response to every sound, in staring hard at his paper to keep his gritty eyes open, in looking at the scars on the backs of his hands to will his head not to nod.

He doesn't dare turn, but from the corner of his eye he can see the gray of the sky and a smear of black-streaked snow on the windowsill.

"You wouldn't be falling asleep again, mister Savonafrescoe?"

Her breath wafts across his face with the smell of ashes. It reminds him of his mother. "No, Sister Helena."

"You're certain?"

"It's just the winter," he says, feeling his body contract, knowing he should pull the words back but unable to stop them, hands twitching like chickens on a chopping block, "I think it makes me--" then the whipcrack sound before the room goes white, nothing in it but a red slash blooming across his hand like blood in the snow.

"Don't talk back. Sit up straight. Finish your test."

He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the scream of his hand to dull to a roar. From behind him, a whispered giggle:

"My mom says his mom is a whore."

"Piggy-Iggy, son of a whore," someone giggles back.

He opens his eyes and the room fades back in, walls of black walnut, corners full of spiders and the squirming things they are saving to eat later.

He looks at the sister, sitting at her desk now, staring back at him. She hears the stage whispers, but she sits, and she stares. "Hurt people hurt people," she says, glancing away.

She must have been hurt more than most people.

"Offer up your struggles as sacrifice," she says, thin lips curling at the corners, bony hand clutching her beads as she rolls her eyes towards the ceiling.

[jessiec-writes-fantasy]

Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

Medicine

A Study In Physical Injury

Comas

Medical Facts And Tips For Your Writing Needs

Broken Bones

Burns

Unconsciousness & Head Trauma

Blood Loss

Stab Wounds

Pain & Shock

All About Mechanical Injuries (Injuries Caused By Violence)

Writing Specific Characters

Portraying a kleptomaniac.

Playing a character with cancer.

How to portray a power driven character.

Playing the manipulative character.

Portraying a character with borderline personality disorder.

Playing a character with Orthorexia Nervosa.

Writing a character who lost someone important.

Playing the bullies.

Portraying the drug dealer.

Playing a rebellious character.

How to portray a sociopath.

How to write characters with PTSD.

Playing characters with memory loss.

Playing a pyromaniac.

How to write a mute character.

How to write a character with an OCD.

How to play a stoner.

Playing a character with an eating disorder.

Portraying a character who is anti-social.

Portraying a character who is depressed.

How to portray someone with dyslexia.

How to portray a character with bipolar disorder.

Portraying a character with severe depression.

How to play a serial killer.

Writing insane characters.

Playing a character under the influence of marijuana.

Tips on writing a drug addict.

How to write a character with HPD.

Writing a character with Nymphomania.

Writing a character with schizophrenia.

Writing a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Writing a character with depression.

Writing a character who suffers from night terrors.

Writing a character with paranoid personality disorder.

How to play a victim of rape.

How to play a mentally ill/insane character.

Writing a character who self-harms.

Writing a character who is high on amphetamines.

How to play the stalker.

How to portray a character high on cocaine.

Playing a character with ADHD.

How to play a sexual assault victim.

Writing a compulsive gambler.

Playing a character who is faking a disorder.

Playing a prisoner.

Portraying an emotionally detached character.

How to play a character with social anxiety.

Portraying a character who is high.

Portraying characters who have secrets.

Portraying a recovering alcoholic.

Portraying a sex addict.

How to play someone creepy.

Portraying sexually/emotionally abused characters.

Playing a character under the influence of drugs.

Playing a character who struggles with Bulimia.

Illegal Activity

Examining Mob Mentality

How Street Gangs Work

Domestic Abuse

Torture

Assault

Murder

Terrorism

Internet Fraud

Cyberwarfare

Computer Viruses

Corporate Crime

Political Corruption

Drug Trafficking

Human Trafficking

Sex Trafficking

Illegal Immigration

Contemporary Slavery 

Black Market Prices & Profits

AK-47 prices on the black market

Bribes

Computer Hackers and Online Fraud

Contract Killing

Exotic Animals

Fake Diplomas

Fake ID Cards, Passports and Other Identity Documents

Human Smuggling Fees

Human Traffickers Prices

Kidney and Organ Trafficking Prices

Prostitution Prices

Cocaine Prices

Ecstasy Pills Prices

Heroin Prices

Marijuana Prices

Meth Prices

Earnings From Illegal Jobs

Countries In Order Of Largest To Smallest Risk

Forensics

arson

Asphyxia

Blood Analysis

Book Review

Cause & Manner of Death

Chemistry/Physics

Computers/Cell Phones/Electronics

Cool & Odd-Mostly Odd

Corpse Identification

Corpse Location

Crime and Science Radio

crime lab

Crime Scene

Cults and Religions

DNA

Document Examination

Fingerprints/Patterned Evidence

Firearms Analysis

Forensic Anthropology

Forensic Art

Forensic Dentistry

Forensic History

Forensic Psychiatry

General Forensics

Guest Blogger

High Tech Forensics

Interesting Cases

Interesting Places

Interviews

Medical History

Medical Issues

Misc

Multiple Murderers

On This Day

Poisons & Drugs

Police Procedure

Q&A

serial killers

Space Program

Stupid Criminals

Theft

Time of Death

Toxicology

Trauma