Madfox89

She/her | 21 | writer/writblr | moved to madfox892

[madfox89]

Written in Scarlet

@flashfictionfridayofficial​

The hunter lures in her most promising victim yet, and craves the familiar power he has.  Part of my WIP the Champion, this takes place later on in the story. 

word count: 658

---

Her name is scarlet.

Blood drips from it like a fresh wound, ever overflowing and warm on the skin.  If her name was any other colour before, she doesn’t remember.  Scarlet is all she knows, and all she ever will know.

Her name gets more drenched and slicker with blood every time her hand curls around a vulnerable mortal throat.  There’s a certain thrill of feeling the life drain from them, the magic of their very being becoming hers.  But most of them barely have a drip of magic in them, making them worthless.  But the few she encounters that does have magic- it is euphoric when their magic becomes her own.

And now, she can practically taste his magic on her tongue- that’s how strong it is.  It comes to her in waves, tasting of the sweetest things she can’t imagine.  It’s sweeter than her own blood dripped name on a brief lover’s tongue, than blood itself. Her fellow Elites can barely contain themselves, fidgeting whenever he strays too close to them as he enters their city.  But she stays still, using all her control to not lunge for him and take his magic.

It’s amusing how he doesn’t even suspect what they really are- that’s how well their glamour holds against him despite the sweet magic radiating off him.  He doesn’t see their skeleton like bodies or the crumbling environment, only what they want him to see.  Only their golden eyes remain unaffected by their glamour, no matter how hard they tried to cover it.  It’s the only mark of their unworldliness, and yet he doesn’t seem to even pay much notice to it.

“Please,” One of the others lean to her in a whisper, “Let us just siphon him now.”

“We can’t,” She says with a cold smile, “I must see how he can channel the power of the Helios.”

She has lost the ability to dream the moment she let the Helios change her, but it still haunts her in her waking hours, whispering her name in the silent moments.  It is the one thing she truly desires; to wield its raw power for herself.  The Helios is pure power capable of change beyond measure.  It is also their saving grace; without the magic of others they will crumble to dust but with the Helios they will be unstoppable.  Her name will be known once more, and all will tremble when they hear it.

“Does that truly matter?” He questions her.  “The Helios is here!”

“In the form of a human,” she muses.  “I wish to know how.”

The Human is escorted to their home, the glamour on it making it seem like a fairy tale.  It was once.  It was a grand castle under the earth that was whispered about among those of the surface, and they told tales of the castle’s mistress, and would whisper her name in the dark in fear of summoning her.  But those stories were erased from existence.  No one knows about them anymore, their names forgotten and worn away.  Which makes the hunt much easier, but she misses a time when she could taste the fear coming off them as she approached for the kill.

She looks over to the garden of twisted vines and dead roses that cover most of her estate, spotting a flash of white among the sea of brown and black.  She frowns, and states, “If you need to keep yourself occupied until the time is right, you can always go rabbit hunting.”

The Elite nods, stalking off to the garden glamoured to house scarlet roses, sparing one last glance at their newest victim.  The human enters their home, still unaware of what he’s just done, and she smiles as the trap is set.  

Her name is scarlet, and she’s written it in blood.

And when she’s done with this mortal who wields the Helios, the whole world will know it once more.

[madfox89]

Midnight Meetings

@flashfictionfridayofficial​

This story takes place in my WIP The Champion.  Originally I tried to write something else, but in the end this one turned out better. 

A smuggler’s morality and faith clash during her midnight meetings, but she manages to find a way to keep both in times of hardship.

Title: Midnight Meetings

word count: 705

The Captain is a woman of faith.

She was brought up by it, after her mother left her in the streets to wither away. It was the Daughters of the Church who found her and raised her, despite her slightly wild nature. But despite being faithful, she could never stay put; and she could not bear the pain of being beside the Daughters in prayer without feeling the same sense of peace they did.  So, she left, and travelled the world.

But she still carries the Mark of her God on a silver chain, even with it in her pocket she could never abandon him.  She still prays to him, visits countless Churches-from the grandest in the Holiest city in the world, to the small modest one in a fishing village.  She still prays to him, and always wonders if her actions against the Church made them void.

She hopes they haven’t. It is all she has in this lonely world.

The Eldest Daughter of her orphanage always stated that God gifted her a sense of right and wrong that no man could ever break, and the Captain should have known that even God could not break that.  Perhaps that is why he gifted her that, so she could do what was right, despite what the Church said.

She waits for her meeting at midnight, the call of seagulls and ocean waves the only thing breaking the silence.  She raises the Mark to her lips, muttering a silent prayer that all goes right, that they make it out of the harbour safely, that they won’t get caught.  She prays that this is the right thing to do, even if a part of her is afraid.

She was taught that the night belonged to witches, that midnight was the witching hour.  No respectable person of faith should ever be caught outdoors when the bell hits midnight, otherwise you become vulnerable and prone to curses of the heretic witches.  When she first had a midnight meeting, as the Rebellion likes to call them, she remembered being paranoid about being cursed and almost running away.  But she had stayed because she couldn’t leave a person in danger behind.

She spent the next week waiting to see if her skin would fall off or her eyes would rot, but to her shock nothing horrible befell her.  After that, they started to be easier.  This will be her 7th midnight meeting, and she remains curse free.  She’s still afraid each time though, and she is even more frightened than ever before.

When the three rebels approach her, two women and one man, they give her coded message, and she responds back with her own message.  When they ask if she is the smuggler, she only nods, careful to not break the calm façade she has built.  She avoids looking at the blind woman who is with them, for she knows she is a witch, a heretic against the name of God.  But she’s been told the witch is a healer and helps many people regardless of religion, and she does her best to not judge, to ignore her own fear towards the smaller, older woman.

She still prays at the helm of her ship as they leave port, asking the One God to not leave her, to not turn away as she tries to do the right thing.  It feels like she is slowly going to drown, that a heaviness sits on her shoulders threatening to push her down into the black waves.

She sighs in relief as the Fallen Mermaid heads into open water, the city slowly being consumed by the horizon.  Though the heavy weight remains, and she spots the witch standing at the bow, her rebel friends have disappeared below deck.  She reminds herself that the witch is not evil, and that the One God has safely guided them out of her harbour anymore.  She thanks the One God for  protecting her as she smuggled a witch and two rebels out of the city of Kings, and asks to protect her and her crew, along with their passengers, as they cross the ocean.

The Captain is a woman of faith, and she has not been forsaken yet.    

[madfox89]

To Become Stardust

For this prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial​, I decided to write something from my WIP The Champion.  This flash fiction takes place hundreds of years before the story begins, but this character’s actions are felt throughout the story.

To Become Stardust

trigger warning: character death, blood via stabbing

word count: 732

--

Her people were made from stardust, or so it was said. Narah always loved the stories of how the first Yuera were fashioned by the Lady Of the Dawn from stardust. How she painted their skin painted the same colour as the sky, fashioned their eyes from the flames of the sun.  It was something she was proud of, to be made of stardust.  She was part of something bigger, even before she won the Trials and donned the title champion.  

But it was also said that when you left this world, you became stardust. That was what scared her, because even though she was part of something she was still different.  If she died, she would become a small part of something, indistinguishable from the rest.  There would be no more Narah, just stardust.  She remembers her parents comforting her when she would cling to them when it got to that part of the story.  She wasn’t afraid of monsters or dark magic, but becoming stardust was a fear so still and silent it crept up on her in the quiet moments, hovering in the back of her mind.  

 It isn’t quiet now, with the wind howling so loudly in her ears they ache, her eyes stinging from the merciless burn of sea salt.  It seems like complete chaos, unfurling itself into a storm. Now she wants some peace, to be anywhere but in the eye of the storm of her own making.  Somewhere where the fear of stardust was only a dream, a dark thought, and not an imminent future.

The building storm didn’t stop, though it should have as soon as the blade pierced her stomach.  It was so quick, one moment she was all powerful, a Champion in her full glory, and the next on her knees with a knife in her hand and her blood mixing with the rain.  As Champion, she thought she was untouchable, and that line of thought made her sloppy and allowed for a completely weak man to get close to her with a small knife.

But she wasn’t dead yet, even if the Champion’s Spirit, the source of her divine power, seemed to think so and was slipping from her grasp.  There, it would wait for the next generation to come of age, where one of their own would take up the mantle she carried.  She wondered what they would think of her- would she be just another scorned woman who spelled a giant storm to cover a large portion of Viare’s coast, or would she still be considered a hero worthy of songs, Narah the Just?  

Narah could taste the salt mix with the bitter taste of blood on her tongue as she coughed violently.  Her hands were sticky with silver blood, and though she tries, again, to summon the magic of the Champion’s Spirit, all she is offered is the golden shimmer of it’s magic around her bloody hands.

Rain hails down on her, but she couldn’t tell if it was raindrops on her face or tears.  She could count on one hand the number of times she had cried, but it feels so strange to just give up.

But what else can she do?

Her magic failed her, she is dying and the storm is building, growing as if her approaching death only sealed it’s fate.  Magic is unpredictable and uncontrollable, sometimes things just happen.  There are things out of anyone’s control: magic, love, death and just life in general.  She may be called a living God, but she’s still mortal, and no matter how much magic she wielded she could never be in control of everything.  The one thing she was afraid of, the uncertainty and void of death, is coming for her whether she willed it or not. 

“In the end, we’re all just stardust,” she whispers to herself.  She really is crying, she decides, her lower lashes are wet with her own tears and not the harsh rain.  It’s surreal to be crying and dying at the same time.  She’s always considered herself a stone wall, immovable and unbending.  Now she’s broken down, and she will become fine stardust left to fill the starry sky.    

In that moment, she decides that becoming stardust isn’t as scary as she thought, and she rests her head down on the rough and jagged cliff side, waiting to become stardust.

[bleak300-deactivated20200926]

Last Stop

She awoke in total darkness. For a moment she wasn't sure if her eyes were open or not. Groggy from a deep slumber, Emily Brown sluggishly gathered her thoughts. How long had she been asleep? Judging by how dry her throat was she'd been out a good while. A tall glass of cold water was needed, but five more minutes wouldn't hurt.

She stroked her bottom lip. Not as bad as she'd anticipated. She'd expected more swelling from her first bee sting, but this probably wouldn't even bag her a day off work. Typical. This had been the fifth company picnic she'd attended and if she had her way, would be the last. She hated nature anyway. If it wasn't bees stinging you it was birds dumping on you or foxes waking you up with their shrill, alien screeching. Not tonight though. No foxes. No traffic. It was almost too quiet.

Christ it was stuffy. She had trouble drawing breath. Where had she left her inhaler? There was no getting round it, she'd have to get up and turn the light on. It was so damn dark in here. She mouthed an empty yawn and went to stretch her arms, but her elbows hit the wood. That wasn't there before. Neither was the ceiling inches from her face she found herself frantically clawing at. Confusion turned to panic and panic turned to horror. She sucked in what air she could and screamed with all her might.

The night was warm and mellow. The moonlight bathed the churchyard in its yellow glow. An owl swooped between the tombstones and plucked a nice plump dormouse from the feet of an angel, scattering glass chippings across the ground. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, then all was still.

[madfox89]

Sorry for the lateness of this post, life got in the way. Also thanks for everyone who read, liked and reblogged my first story!

For @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt, I decided to write one in the world of my WIP The Champion. This takes place a couple years before the book starts.

The Funeral

Word count: 957

Lyla has only ever known how strong magic was, felt it grow stronger each passing day, creeping like vines up the side of a house until it reached the roof. But today she understood how magic must have felt back then, how utterly powerless it was.

She had failed to choose between him and her father, and now she watched as her father was placed on a funeral pyre. The other assassins gathered behind her, here to honour their leader. The air felt thick, their tension was palpable. She knew what they wanted to know; if she would take her father’s place as Head of the Assassins.

When the last of the pyre was built, Lyla approached it. She looked at her father one last time, studying his grey skin and his near white hair. She clutched the gold encased amulet around her neck, feeling the hum of magic coursing through it and her. With a flick of her hand and a murmured spell, she watched as the green shimmer of her own magic sparked a fire that quickly engulfed the pyre, burning away her father’s flesh and charring his bones.

After a moment, she turned to the Assassins, who watched her with emotionless and calculating eyes. “My father told me that when he was a young man, magic couldn’t be used for more than mere parlour tricks that belonged in travelling acts and devious witches. He said that the great acts of the wizards and sorcerers of old were considered myth and legend. But now we know they are truth, we have seen those with magic shake the earth and move boulders and summon fire from thin air. He said magic was growing stronger every day, and I know you have all felt that, and so I have. The magic I knew as a girl when my father summoned flames in his hands is nothing to the magic we know now.”

She looked over at the pyre, where the smoke was crawling into the sky in dark angry fumes. It reminded her of how angry her father was before he passed, how his usually calm demeanour was shattered by a furious rage she had never seen before.

She turned back to the assassins. “Even though my father is dead, his rumoured successor in hiding, this is not the end. I have stood by my father’s side ever since he started training me in the art of magic, and I know what he dreamed for this organization to become- to not just operate in Convera, but also in Viare. It was his dream to have blades in every major city in the world, to influence just not the politics of Convera’s lords, but of the kings and holy men of Viare.”

She paused, spotting at the back of the crowd a familiar face. She stared at him, wondering why he was here. Esben noticed she was staring and gave her a smile that seemed to say everything from “I’m sorry” to “I love you”. A part of her wanted to smile back, but she couldn’t. How could she smile at her father’s murderer?

She tried to collect herself, aware of the silence weighing down on her. She had to continue with the speech she had rehearsed for hours before the funeral. Yet, a part of her wished to run back to the fine beaches that was home for her naive romances, to lean against him and feel his heartbeat under her fingers. Instead of the smell of smoke that lingered around them, she could smell sea salt on the warm breeze, mixing with the lingering sweetness of strawberries on her tongue.

Lyla’s hand went to her amulet her father had given her on her sixteenth birthday. It marked the beginning of her training, and she remembered how she first felt it hum with magic in her hands. It was her childhood dream come true, despite what her mother said: that girls weren’t allowed to practice magic.

It hummed in her iron grip now, and she knew she didn’t have a choice in this. She had a duty to her family, to her father and mentor. She would be sure to not fail him again. Lyla cleared her throat and continued, “I am prepared to give everything, even my life, to see this dream become reality, and I ask you to stand by me as we complete my father’s vision.”

His smile disappeared, and Lyla looked over the gathered assassins. “Will you stand with me?” She asked.

“We will,” an older man stepped forward. She smiled, recognizing the man as one of the senior assassins. “We stood by your father, and we will stand by you to see his vision completed.”

Her smile widened as more stepped forward and pledged to help her complete her father’s vision. The magic flowing through the amulet buzzed, sending a tingling sensation through her, reminding her of the strength of magic. Her father may have never been able to fulfill this dream, but she was stronger than him, wielding magic that was stronger than it was in his youth. She would succeed where he failed to remedy her previous failure.

Though she fought against it, her eyes scanned the back of the crowd once more, trying to find Esben’s face. Her shoulders slumped when she saw he was no longer there, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared.

She couldn’t smell the burning flesh or taste the ash that rained down on them. She only tasted sweet strawberries from his lips and smelt ocean salt that lingered in his hair.

The tears falling down her face was not for the dead man burning behind her, but the life she would never live.

[flashfictionfridayofficial]

What’s that just around the corner? It can't be... is it already? Yes! It’s Flash Fiction Friday!!

Grab a hot drink and charge up your laptops because its time to get writing!!

✨New to FFF? Let us fill you in!

FlashFictionFriday is a fun writer-event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!

We always do our very best to keep the prompt’s genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.

Write between 100-1000 words. It can be any genre, in any text format and 18+ is fine by us, just please tag accordingly.

Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.

Post on your Tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial​!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!

Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued (12pm CET).

And then next Friday we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before the next prompt drops.

Please post your entries as regular posts, not screenshots – or provide the text as a regular post as well. Let’s keep everything as accessible as possible!

If you have a question, check out our FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask! <3

You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list to join in. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us!

We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.

If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord: https://discord.gg/gA6sJMB

✨All your beautiful works from last week have been compiled HERE!

Go check them out and consider supporting your fellow FFF writers with some likes and reblogs!

✨And now, this week’s prompt!

[#FFF63 Creeping Magic]

Slowly taking over the kingdom? Strengthening your powers? What kind of magic is this? Where is it coming from? Is it the good kind? The bad kind? 

Get writing and let us know!

✨The Collective✨

[cirianne]

Three Simple Words

My take on @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt, LET ME GO. Highly inspired by Anna and Zella's story in my WIP Chasing Demons, but a full standalone and a style very new to me, so be gentle.

(310 words)

Three simple words.

But when to say them?

When you're laughing together, buried in your unearthly beautiful lover's arms on your way home after a long night of dancing and flirting?

When you're in bed together at night, when your lover rolls off you, both your bodies still shuddering with pleasure?

When you wake up to your lover's soft voice wishing you a good morning, while the smell of a decadent breakfast wafts through the room?

When your lover gifts you a dress so beautiful that your breathing stops and present you with the treasures of the world to pick the perfect jewelry to add to it?

When you lace your fingers together, your lover's hand warm and steady against yours, before you walk down the aisle of a ballroom in that dress, filled with people assembled to celebrate the bond between you?

When your lover steps up, there and then, to publicly declare their love for you?

"Let me go".

Your voice is a mere whisper, inaudible, swallowed by the audience's cheers and the merry music that set in after your lover spoke. Their radiant face has turned toward you, these eyes you lose yourself in, those perfect soft lips, the wide smile of slightly too pointy teeth. They hum in tune with the music, place a tiny kiss on your cheek, that holds the promise of many more.

"I can't, my beloved human", they whisper, just when you thought they hadn't heard you, and there might be a tint of regret to their voice. "I shall give you whatever you wish for and more, here, in this realm." They take your hand in theirs, and a sense of longing rushes through you at the touch.

The affection in their eyes is truthful, but now there's a rare sincerity next to it. "Yet, my love, you followed me to my home voluntarily. And there's one rule that counts above all else." Their other hand runs down your cheek as they study your face. "You shall never leave Faerie."

[madfox89]

@flashfictionfridayofficial

This is my first time participating in something like this, and the first time I’m publishing any of my writing. This is a re-imaging of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

- -

Let me go

word count: 718

“Let me go.”

He jumps at the first noise he’s heard outside of his own footsteps.  He hadn’t dared play his lyre that hung by his side, for he had strained his ears to hear her gentle footfalls.

He resists the urge to turn around to the source of the sound.  “My beloved,” he utters, fearful of even addressing her, lest it break his deal with the God of the Underworld.

“My love,” she whispers again, her voice rivaling the sweet song of the most gifted songbird.  “Please, let me go.”

“I can’t,” he whispers back.  He’s frozen, standing in the middle of the tunnel he had made deep into the earth that it reached the Underworld.  “I won’t lose you again.”

“You will, either way,” she replies.  “But I’m already dead, I do not wish to die again.”

“But you will live a full life, one with me!” He protests.  “We can have children, and grandchildren!  I can sing to you every dawn and dusk, tend to your every need.”  He tightens his grip on his lyre, his knuckles turning ghostly white.  “Please, I have traveled to the underworld and pleaded to its lord to just have you back.  Just... let’s keep going.”

He looks forward, toward the surface, where everything is buzzing with life.  Soon, they would be among them, and they’ll be able to dance among the fields Demeter had blessed.  They would give thanks to her gloomy daughter- the queen of the underworld who convinced her husband to unite them once more, and grow old together.

He clings to this vision of the future as tightly as he did her corpse when that wicked snake took her from him.

“Orpheus,” she pleads with him.  “I don’t want to go any further.”

“My love,” he steps forward, “we are close to the land of the living, I can feel the warmth of the sun.  Can’t you feel the sunlight, or hear the birds singing?”

“I can’t,” she mutters, sounding mournful.  “I may never be able to.  We may never be able have that life.  I fear that the closer we get to the land of the living, the more wrong I feel.  I still feel dead.”

“No, he promised if you followed me to the upper land without me looking back, you would live!”  Orpheus rushes forward toward the surface.  They had to make it, they were so close...

“Please, let me go,” she repeats, her voice fading.  

He pauses, greeted by silence.  The warmth of the land of the living is mixed with the chill of the underworld, though he could see neither light of the sun or the underworld.  They are so close, but Eurydice’s words weigh heavily on him- heavier than his lyre.

He moves the instrument from his side to front of him, absentmindedly plucking the strings in a song his mother sang to him as a child.  He played it often in order to find courage, and he had played it before entering this tunnel.

He remembers the lord of the dead’s words: “If you look back to look upon your bride, she shall be claimed by death once more.”

He inhales, his body shaking except for his hands, which stay true to their song. 

With heavy feet, he looks back to his greatest love- for whom he’d even give up music for.  She watches him with heavenly blue eyes, lined with thick dark lashes.  Her golden honey hair flows freely, an unusual sight for her hair was always bound.  In that moment, her beauty rivals Aphrodite- even in a half dead state, for nothing could explain the lifelessness in her eyes, the deathly paleness of her skin.  

With a trembling hand she reaches out for him.  He rushes to grab her pale hand which was bonier than he remembered, but he feels something move past him- too fast for him to see. And like that, Eurydice, his great love, disappears like a cold breath in the air.  

And now the only thing that remains in that tunnel is the remains of a smashed lyre, and a woman’s ghostly laughter that was once accompanied to a lively song.  But it is empty now, and Orpheus no longer has a song for the world of the living, but for the dead.  

[languages-georg-blog]

An Actual Writing Tip From An Actual Author

Wow holy shit I’m gonna actually give you guys an actual writing tip, being a published and award winning author and all.

Anyways, a great way to work in TOTALLY UNRELATED little details about your setting or what have you that may or may not be relevant later on is through the use of metaphors, euphemisms, etc. in character dialogue.

“This cold is terrible! I’m wearing more layers than an Aenirian bride!”

Congratulations, you now know something about Aenirian marriage customs. You might not even know what exactly an Aenirian is, but you know that their brides wear lots of layers.

See where I’m going with this?

[thievesguilding]

also even though it seems like common sense little details add so much depth and flavour to a story even and maybe especially when those details aren’t plot relevant

not everything in the real world connects neatly and seamlessly with everything else; there are TONS of loose ends in real life because there’s an entire world that keeps going regardless of one particular person or group’s drama

having proof of a world outside of and utterly unconcerned with the main conflict is such a nice touch and a really quick way to breathe life into dialogue

[languages-georg-blog]

Excellent addition!

[nimblesnotebook-blog]

Myths, Creatures, and Folklore

Want to create a religion for your fictional world? Here are some references and resources!

General:

General Folklore

Various Folktales

Heroes

Weather Folklore

Trees in Mythology

Animals in Mythology

Birds in Mythology

Flowers in Mythology

Fruit in Mythology

Plants in Mythology

Folktales from Around the World

Africa:

Egyptian Mythology

African Mythology

More African Mythology

Egyptian Gods and Goddesses

The Gods of Africa

Even More African Mythology

West African Mythology

All About African Mythology

African Mythical Creatures

Gods and Goddesses

The Americas:

Aztec Mythology

Haitian Mythology

Inca Mythology

Maya Mythology

Native American Mythology

More Inca Mythology

More Native American Mythology

South American Mythical Creatures

North American Mythical Creatures

Aztec Gods and Goddesses

Asia:

Chinese Mythology

Hindu Mythology

Japanese Mythology

Korean Mythology

More Japanese Mythology

Chinese and Japanese Mythical Creatures

Indian Mythical Creatures

Chinese Gods and Goddesses

Hindu Gods and Goddesses

Korean Gods and Goddesses

Europe:

Basque Mythology

Celtic Mythology

Etruscan Mythology

Greek Mythology

Latvian Mythology

Norse Mythology

Roman Mythology

Arthurian Legends

Bestiary

Celtic Gods and Goddesses

Gods and Goddesses of the Celtic Lands

Finnish Mythology

Celtic Mythical Creatures

Gods and Goddesses

Middle East:

Islamic Mythology

Judaic Mythology

Mesopotamian Mythology

Persian Mythology

Middle Eastern Mythical Creatures

Oceania:

Aboriginal Mythology

Polynesian Mythology

More Polynesian Mythology

Mythology of the Polynesian Islands

Melanesian Mythology

Massive Polynesian Mythology Post

Maori Mythical Creatures

Hawaiian Gods and Goddesses

Hawaiian Goddesses

Gods and Goddesses

Creating a Fantasy Religion:

Creating Part 1

Creating Part 2

Creating Part 3

Creating Part 4

Fantasy Religion Design Guide

Using Religion in Fantasy

Religion in Fantasy

Creating Fantasy Worlds

Beliefs in Fantasy

Some superstitions:

Read More

[nimblesnotebook-blog]

Here, I have some more:

Africa:

Ancient Egypt: the Mythology

Egyptian Gods

Legendary Monsters of Africa

The Americas:

Aztec Mythology

Incan Mythology

Haitian Mythology

Mayan Mythology

Asia:

Chinese Mythology

Japanese Mythology

Korean Mythology

Hindu Mythology

Japanese Folklore and Mythology

Chinese Mythology

Europe:

Encyclopedia of Greek Mythology

The Olympians

Women in Greek Myths

Greek Mythology

More Greek Mythology

Even More Greek Mythology

Greek/Roman Mythology

Germanic Myths, Legends, and Sagas

Norse Mythology

The Muse

Creepy Irish Creatures

Irish Folklore

Norse Mythology

Arthurian Mythology

Celtic Mythology

Latvian Mythology

Norse Gods, Goddesses, and More

A Celtic Pantheon

Welsh Gods and Goddesses

Celtic Deities

Werewolf Legends from Germany

Welsh Deities

Celtic Gods and Goddesses

Oceanic:

Australian Mythology

Polynesian Mythology

General:

Ancient Myth and Magic

Massive List of Mythological Creatures

Mythical Creatures

Hairy Hominids

Cryptozoology

Mysterious Beings, Monsters, and Creatures

Amulets and Good Luck Charms A - Z

Modern Monsters

Myths and Legends

Folklore and Mythology (2)

More Links

Folklore, Myth, and Legend

Names of Gods and Goddesses

Folklore Mythology

[redadhdventures]

Reblogging because wow. What a resource.

[pens-swords-stuff]

Basic Writeblr Etiquette

This is a guide of what I personally consider to be considerate and polite. While I would encourage people to follow this, it is just my personal opinion — it’s not a rule by any means, and it’s certainly not exhaustive.

Don’t add people to your tag lists without explicit permission.

Tag list  — A tag list is a list of users who will be tagged in every post that a Writeblr makes about a certain WIP. It is often included at the bottom of a post, and people are free to ask to be included, or removed from it.

I get it, we all want people to see and enjoy our writing. However, please do not add anyone to your tag lists if they have not given you permission to.

I believe that all tag lists should be an ‘opt-in’, where people request to get put on it. While you might be willing to take someone off of a tag list with no hard feelings whatsoever, it can be really awkward for people to request to be taken off. 

There are a lot of reasons why people don’t want to be on tag lists, and it doesn’t mean that they don’t like your writing. Even if someone is consistently interested and is commenting a lot, don’t add them without permission! Try asking them first!

If you reblog an ask game from someone, send them an ask.

Isn’t it really frustrating when you’re doing an ask game and about 20 people reblog it, but you only get 1 ask? We’ve all been there.

Send them an ask if you reblog! It takes like 2 seconds, and you don’t have to be particularly interested in the answer — it gives the person an opportunity to talk about their WIPs and OCs either way, and you’ll make their day.

If you want people to send you asks, try starting by sending other people some!

Use a “Read More” when you have long posts.

We writeblrs tend to make long posts, especially if we post our writing online. While that’s perfectly fine, there’s often a lot of scrolling to be done when the ‘read more’ isn’t used, especially if it gets reblogged a lot. 

If you have several pictures, or your post requires quite a bit of scrolling to get through, please use the ‘read more’.

Use trigger warnings for sensitive topics.

If you are posting about sensitive topics including but not limited to things like rape, suicide, assault, etc., please use trigger warnings. Not everyone might want to see writing involving sensitive topics, and it might catch some people really off-guard, even if they’re fine with it. It’s just considerate to give your followers a heads-up, so they can decide if they want to continue or not.

Trigger warnings should be at the top of your post, or at the very least, before your sensitive content so people can see. I also tag it as “tw: [sensitive topic]” so that people who have blacklisted it can avoid it.

Please hide your sensitive content behind a ‘read more’! I have seen too many posts with trigger warnings, and no ‘read more’s, making people who want to avoid it, scroll through and potentially see the sensitive content.

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

Someone’s writing not up your alley? Really don’t like someone’s OC? That’s fine and valid, we won’t always love everyone’s writing. Just move on; unfollow them if you have to. Don’t give people unsolicited criticism if they don’t ask for it.

It can be scary putting ourselves out there. If you’re about to say something that would bother you if you received that comment, don’t say it. Just move on.

If you like it, consider reblogging it.

We all get excited when someone reblogs our posts, and we also get a little bit frustrated if people just ignore it, or like it without leaving anything else. We can all start to foster a better community by reblogging things we enjoyed instead of just liking them — support your fellow writeblrs! Reblogging other people’s posts will make someone’s day, and more people can see their awesome writing. As a bonus, people will be more likely to reblog your work too!

If you’d like to ask me for advice on writing or running a writeblr, please check out my Ask Guidelines and FAQ first.

Ask Guidelines | FAQ | Advice Masterlist

[taptrial2]

writing an autistic character when you are not autistic - a masterpost

completely double spaced version on google docs here – this post is more blocky for the sake of people’s dashboards, but still long so people will be less likely to glaze over it. my apologies if that makes it hard to read

things to look for and avoid in an autistic character

• symptoms only manifesting as “nonverbal and rocking” • super smart / living calculator • super dumb / doesn’t understand anything • all the symptoms you can come up with for them are “awkward” and “has special interest(s)” (please do more research) • trains, technology, and/or math as special interests • acting like a child • getting treated like a baby • unreasonably cruel and uncaring about others’ reactions to them being cruel • if they’re comparable to sheldon from the big bang theory, start over • animal comparisons • a lack of feelings • please no stories about what it’s like to be autistic told by allistics

the right way to write an autistic person

• lots of symptoms, including secondary ones not included on a general diagnosis requirement list (here’s a list i rather like that was made by an autistic person – their blog is also a good resource) • having a good amount of general knowledge and actually talking about it (i cannot believe that i have to say this) • talking about things outside of special interests (again…. come on……….) (special interests are usually the default things our brains go to when theres no stimulation or we want to entertain ourselves – it isn’t literally all we think or talk about ever. if a conversation has no connections to a special interest, reconsider having your autistic character bring it up in a context that is not an introduction.) • explicitly expressed to be capable of attraction and romantic feelings – if your character is an adult, add sexual feelings to this point • capable of general functioning, just with a disability that makes it more difficult – not a walking disability (….sigh) • a wide amount of feelings and emotional turmoil (but perhaps only being able to express it in limited ways) • we’re people • just people whose brains are wired differently

things to avoid in research for an autistic character

• autism moms / autism blogs and websites not run by autistic people • any affiliation with autism $peaks means you should walk away and never look back • a scientist trying to create explanations for what autistic people do without actually asking / not mentioning asking autistic people • anything about a cure for autism • a person that “worked with autistic kids” phrased in the same way as “worked with animals” • talking about autistic people as if they are mysteries, are like animals, or are otherwise othered weirdos instead of people

things to look for in research for an autistic character

• actual autistic people talking about their experiences and symptoms • just stick to that and you’re good but it’s hard to find sometimes ngl. just look for the above red flags

things i would personally like to see in an autistic character

• less easy to swallow sadness and more destructive anger. i would love to see a canonically autistic character who was frustrated easily by small things and had trouble communicating why • not a story about being autistic, a story that happens to have a character or characters who are autistic – it isn’t pointed out or questioned, they’re right at home with the rest of the cast and not othered (a la symmetra from overwatch) • intensive sensory issues / small sounds making large reactions • clear communications about not liking x sensory thing (for example being touched) • poor motor skills / clumsiness and not being laughed at for it • walking funny (body bent downwards, walking very fast, walking slowly, big strides, shuffling, stiffness, etc)  – no one treats it as if it’s funny or something totally strange • a big personality that has a presence so they can’t be cast aside (but feel free to have quiet characters too) – if this was along with being nonverbal they would probably leap to being one of my favorite characters ever • a fear of asking for clarification on sarcasm or jokes because of past experiences and an arc about the character becoming more comfortable asking questions

>> if any fellow autistic people want to add something, feel free <<

allistics are encouraged to rb this

[madfox89]

Character Introduction: Zaina

The magic-less granddaughter of a witch, and destined at birth to bring greatness, Zaina has had a slightly unconventional childhood. With failed witch training and several failed attempts at matchmaking by her parents, she is often left alone by her family, with her parents focusing on her older brothers and her grandmother with her young sister.  Zaina has spent much of her time cultivating her archery skills and reading. With a deep love for the sea, something she has only read and heard about, Zaina is stubborn and willful and often butts heads with her family, especially her grandmother. When she matured into adulthood, she became a famous war chief in the plains of Viare, though she would eventually leave it behind to go to Convera to raise her newborn son, Esben.

A note: This is the first post about my WIP The Champion.  If you’re interested in learning more, please like and/or reblog this post, and keep an eye out as I plan on posting more soon. 

[thekeyten]

WIP INTRO / MAGIC IN THE FIRST DEGREE

title → Magic in the First Degree

genre → ya/na action/urban fantasy

POV → third (limited)

status → outline/idea dump

major themes → family; friendship; guilt; identity crisis; discovering the self; good and evil; overcoming weakness; love and sacrifice

Rory enters his local ‘Got Talent’ show to do magic. Unfortunately, the trick he ends up performing is real. 

Soon enough, suspicious people in black suits come knocking on his door claiming that he’s broken some sort of law. Something about ‘first degree magic in the presence of non-magic beings’ and demand that he go with them to some place he’s never heard of, like that’s going to work, or something.

He only has time to call his best friend Finn before the ‘Magic Police’ are busting down the door to apprehend him. 

Of course he runs, what was he supposed to do? Just let the Magic Police take him to who knows where? Of course not. 

Because that’s ridiculous. 

Magic isn’t real.

tag list: @tirashouldbewriting and @littledragon-fan (if you’d like to be added to the magic in the first degree tag list just let me know!)

[sarcasm-and-studying]

A Writeblr Introduction

Hello everyone, a new Writeblr here!

I am an aspiring writer who is fairly new to this community.  I am really excited to meet others with similar goals and aspirations to me!

I like:

Writing

Drawing digital art

Talking about myself

Indulging in self-hatred

Being sarcastic

I dislike:

Writing

Working

Not being sarcastic

Reblog this if you are another writeblr!