Jax Wolff Writes
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jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Jax Wolff Writes
@jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
3.7K followers 1.1K following 9.7K posts
Queer fantasy writer smashing words together.
Any pronoun | Ace of Hearts

Current project: The Nameless Song, hopepunk fantasy/romance with dragons (and bee people). Draft 6 in progress.

Newsletter: https://jaxwolffwrites.beehiiv.com
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jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
#WIPSnips A bit rougher this time and from the same chapter I've been sharing a lot of snips from lately, but listen. Bees in mine carts.
Far below, Mick could see the problem. First, chains of small figures formed a net around the center of the crystal leading to the Lume. Crowds of dragons hovered around the crystal, many already in their war forms. Second, there was a canal going through the city now. A tendril of earth, extending from one of the rock walls almost to the Lume. The longer he watched it, the more Mick could see it crawling with zizzun too, including a cluster at one end raising rock pillars to add to the track while others rode a small cart carrying crystals along its length. It almost looked like a primitive mine cart system, but for what purpose, Mick couldn’t quite tell. He landed and sensed Eleanor approaching. “Did you know about this?” he asked slowly. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to wait until you were fully awake.”
November 25, 2025 at 2:30 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Holiday markets are in full swing in NYC! Braved the crowds to window shop in preparation for gift buying. Managed to find a pocket of space to show Beenjamin the festivities.
Beenjamin (a plush bee) poses in front of a decorated Christmas tree.
November 23, 2025 at 6:10 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
#WIPSnips "Direction" also pops up quite frequently in this draft, but I'm going with a vibe/using "east" here instead because BEE PEOPLE WAGGLE DANCE.

(Yes, this is a snip I've shared very recently in my WIP's tag. But BEE PEOPLE WAGGLE DANCE.)
Mick sighed, then turned on his heel and started back for the throne room . . . . . . just as a zizzun in a dress and babushka zipped over his head and into the room first. As Mick jogged to the door, he watched the newcomer drop an armload of space crystals in front of a group of waiting zizzun. Then, she began to dance. Angling herself to the east, she shook herself and took two large steps forward, before looping back and repeating the maneuver. Three times, she looped and vibrated in a figure eight, while her compatriots picked up the crystals and examined them. That is, until a dragon came over and plucked her off the floor by her collar.
November 21, 2025 at 3:14 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
I realize now that there's no decent way to show this, because if zizzun use their stingers the way bees do, that means their tails go between their legs. Still, this is a rough sketch of what gave Mick a warning stab (minus the wings):
Pencil sketch of a zizzun (bee person) in a dress, babushka, and boots. She's holding her hands tight against her chest, and her knees are up, as her tail is pointed upwards with a very long stinger exposed.
November 20, 2025 at 7:54 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
"Special" pops up a number of times in this draft, but honestly, I just wanted to share a vibe. So for today, have a bit about why Mick and Eleanor are special to each other:

#WIPSnips #NamelessSong
Mischief was something Lady Eleanor de Lepaute, youngest daughter to the wealthiest family in Southwind and the actual ruling gentry of the Southern Reach, was known for. That and rebellion against her father, which is why no one seemed to question her when she roamed about her father’s seat of governance without a chaperone. Or, for that matter, why she chose a commoner—a man, no less—to be her closest confidant. Not that Mick minded that last part. See, he would do anything for Eleanor. Perhaps not court her, least of all because he wasn’t sure if he was interested in everything that courtship entailed, and anyway, he knew his place in society and hers all too well. But if Eleanor asked him to jump, he would ask her how high and which bridge. Anything to put that sly smile onto her face.
November 20, 2025 at 3:16 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
A lot of politics happened in last night's writing session, but tbh, I think my favorite bit was the part where the adorable four-foot-tall bee that communicates mostly in dancing showed Mick why the dragons are letting the bees do whatever.

(Remind me to doodle this.)

#NaNoWriMo #NamelessSong
“Okay,” he announced, “I know you’re all angry, and I intend on addressing all of your concerns, but we’re not going to treat the ziz—” Something sharp jabbed itself past his ribs, narrowly missing stabbing any part of his flesh. Peering down, Mick saw the zizzun’s tail curled tight, and against his side rested a long stinger—black and crystalline, the size of his forearm, jutting from the tip of the zizzun’s tail to just past his armpit. Suddenly, his head swam, and he looked to Eleanor for help.
November 20, 2025 at 2:25 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Beenjamin is very excited that the beeple are now in the dragon book, clearly. Want a preview? Just looking for somebody to cowrite with?

Join us at 8:30 PM ET for NIGHT WRITES, our weekly writing stream! Link opens at 8:30; word sprints start at 9. Doc up always.

#writingcommunity #writesky
Beenjamin (a plush bee) is attempting to grasp a purple and blue dragon egg that's sitting on a black table. In the background is a keyboard and a computer screen, the latter of which is open to an instance of Scrivener.
November 19, 2025 at 7:40 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
I feel like it's important to let you all know that the bee people do, in fact, perform waggle dances to let each other know where resources are.

And it's as cute as it sounds.

#NaNoWriMo #NamelessSong
Mick sighed, then turned on his heel and started back for the throne room . . . . . . just as a zizzun in a dress and babushka zipped over his head and into the room first. As Mick jogged to the door, he watched the newcomer drop an armload of space crystals in front of a group of waiting zizzun. Then, she began to dance. Angling herself to the east, she shook herself and took two large steps forward, before looping back and repeating the maneuver. Three times, she looped and vibrated in a figure eight, while her compatriots picked up the crystals and examined them. That is, until a dragon came over and plucked her off the floor by her collar.
November 19, 2025 at 7:03 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
#WIPSnips The Dead God gives Mick a vision that explains why the dragon refugees he was expecting never showed up.

Namely, the chosen one of the goddess of night *had*. In the form of a giant wolf. With armed guards assisting.

(CW for violence, blood, and character death.)
The elves before him exploded into action. One turned to run, only to be met with a rain of bullets to the back. Another swooped low and scooped the air with hands glowing the color of honey, and the earth beneath the Queens’ Guardsmen right in front of him cracked and tore apart until vines erupted beneath him and tore him apart with a blink. The third swooped back and enveloped themself in violet light. Their feet left the earth— But the wolf leapt next, jaws closing hard around the half-formed dragon. Mick only heard the squelch before all went black.
November 19, 2025 at 3:09 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Quick dialogue sketch of the scene I'm about to write as a warm-up.

Context: Mick woke up less than an hour ago with the worst hangover he's ever had and yet another new body, and now he's navigating politics with a city full of dragons and a swarm of bee people.

#NaNoWriMo #NamelessSong
[As the dragons threaten to tear down the comb, the princess cell included, Mick leans towards Eleanor and whispers:] Mick: “Eleanor, what’s it mean when the zizzun smell like . . . ?” Eleanor: “Bananas?” [Mick nods quickly.] Eleanor: “They’re angry.” Mick: “Ah.” [straightens; with the tone of someone who knows his entire afternoon is going to be a joy:] “Great.”
November 19, 2025 at 1:11 AM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
#WIPSnips In an underground temple flooded with the corpses of monsters, the Dead God gives Mick one really good reason to agree to be his chosen one.

Namely, that Eleanor's about two seconds from dying if he doesn't.
Cracks laced across the ceiling. Not the ceiling of the temple, as that was already destroyed, but rather the ceiling of the cavern. Every crystal that had been up there had exploded, leaving craters across the cavern’s walls like holes in lace, and where there weren’t craters, there was loose rock, just a nudge away from falling into the city. There would be a cave-in. Soon, no less. The Dead God shifted Mick’s attention downward, to the edge of the temple, and there was Eleanor. She was screaming Mick’s name, but Mick couldn’t hear her. He watched as she dodged falling rocks and bobbed along the edge of the temple, looking for a way in. What was she doing? She had to run! “Would you abandon her if the roles were reversed?” the Dead God asked.
November 16, 2025 at 5:11 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Early chapter fun: Eleanor wants banter, and Mick wants to ignore the problems that he should probably seek therapy for because everything is FINE.
She softened and pulled her gaze to the tracks in the distance. The train had disappeared into the borders of Faelenvale by that point, and the only thing worth looking at now was the row of telegraph lines sticking up like a fence across the horizon. Eleanor frowned at these. “Mm, worrywart as ever,” Eleanor sighed. “One of these days, I’ll get you to relax.” Mick smirked as he beheaded another sunflower. “Another one you’ll train out of me. How many bad habits are we up to? Thirty-four?” “Thirty-seven.” She turned that frown onto him. “You’re not a hopeless case yet, but you are quite a considerable work-in-progress.” She didn’t know why he worried or why he lied just now, he kept telling himself. She didn’t know about the underground current of wanting so badly to be enough for her but knowing, ultimately, that he wasn’t. She didn’t know that the worry was a resignation, an understanding that the best he could do was protect her and make her happy for the time being. All she could feel was the constant buzz of nervousness, intermingled with the fact that he was absolutely trying to play things off as if everything was fine when it wasn’t. He cut off another sunflower’s head and forced himself to smile.
November 15, 2025 at 8:54 AM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Oh sweet, another chance to share the absolute horror my MC went through to turn into a dragon. :D

(CW for body horror and mutilation/death by fire)
Fire. All Mick could see and feel at first was fire. At first, it was outside, burning away the troll and driving Eleanor to hide behind one of the arches. He could smell the searing of troll flesh, the odor of cooked meat. He could sense it pouring out of him and down the steps, and he could hear the popping and screeching of thousands of mosskin dying by flame. But then the flames turned inward, onto his body and deep into his bones. Every nerve, every fiber of his being screamed all at once as he melted away, broke apart, pulled back together into something else. His back hit the rainbow-flooded floor, and electric lumina flooded him and sent him unfurling outwards further than his body should have allowed. His fingers stretched into claws. His mouth opened wide for fangs too big for his skull. Something burned at his shoulder blades and shredded his flesh to emerge, flapping wet and cold against the floor. At last, his world went dark, save for a pinprick of light hovering far above him and a nearly inaudible melody somewhere in the distance. My apologies. I thought I had you.
November 14, 2025 at 10:22 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Context: Bill is Mick's older brother and, more importantly, the owner of the family restaurant. As such, he could definitely do something about two of his customers going at it over his headwaiter/younger brother before it escalates into a magical fistfight.

Keyword: *Could.*

#WIPSnips
“Oh, yes, grand,” Lord Albert sighed. “What if he comes across a great mandrake? Or perhaps a highwood bear?” “He would shoot it, I’d imagine,” Eleanor said. “Yes, but would that be enough?” “Fine. He’d shoot it twice.” A peal of laughter erupted from the other table. Mick winced and glanced into the restaurant for any sign of Bill and Matthew. They were standing side by side in the door, Bill leaning his slender frame up against the jamb. His green eyes twinkled in the summer light, and his manicured hands were slipped into the pockets of his pressed trousers. He and Eleanor really were cut from the same cloth. The only difference was that Mick wasn’t related to Eleanor, nor did she pay him every week. Ergo, Bill was a dick.
November 14, 2025 at 2:54 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
I wrote this at 2 am, and I am definitely revising it, BUT. Maybe it's just my sleep-deprived brain, but there's just something deadpan funny about having Mick stand there and be like, "Ah. The bee has a gun."

#NamelessSong
Levi bowed low and stared into the zizzun’s eyes. Mick couldn’t see what he was doing, but whatever he did, it seemed to convince the guard to move. He retreated into the church and buzzed at something inside. A second buzz responded, followed by a choir of buzzes. And then, the guard opened the door fully. “Come in,” he said. He stood aside, and Mick could finally see what the guard was holding: a gun.
November 14, 2025 at 2:39 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Scratch that—NOW he's fully bloomed!
Close up of a red and white Christmas cactus flower, with stigma/anthers exposed. Beenjamin examines the flower up close. He wishes he had a proboscis to take full advantage of this opportunity.
November 14, 2025 at 7:23 AM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Flower update: Fully bloomed! And a second bud appeared!

Beenjamin: "That's great, but how do I gather nectar???"
Beenjamin (a plush bee) examines a bright red flower on the end of a branch of a Christmas cactus. A smaller bud is forming on a branch next to it. A Christmas cactus sits in front of a window. Its bright red flower is in focus. The same Christmas cactus in front of a window. However, most of the shot is taken up by half of Beenjamin's face.
November 14, 2025 at 2:56 AM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
What I meant to do: Just write as much as I felt like tonight. No pushing myself or anything.
What I wound up doing: An entire chapter consisting of 3226 words.

To be fair, Mick just had his "oh I'm biromantic" AND his "am I poly?" moments.

Like.

#NamelessSong #NaNoWriMo
Locking his eyes onto Mick, Reuben . . . lowered himself to one knee. Mick stood straight, eyes wide, heart thudding against his chest. “R-Reuben?” he breathed. “What are you doing?” “On the honor of my clan and in the name of the God of Creation,” he said, with zero trace of that backwater accent he’d been using that entire time, “I swear my loyalty to you above the speaker and offer myself to you as your guard. I swear I will carry out your every order and uphold your word above all others in Sanctuary. I grant my own hands to you, to act as you see fit, or to slay me shall I fail.” Mick wanted to look away. He really did. But the more Reuben went on, the more he fell into Reuben’s sapphire gaze, into his rumbling words, into something. He felt his face burn as his heart continued thundering within him, until his ears rang with a mixture of the song and his own blood.
November 13, 2025 at 7:16 AM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Beenjamin's checking in on your writing month goals. Need a little boost? Join us TONIGHT at 8:30 PM ET for NIGHT WRITES. Word sprints to start at 9 PM; link to be posted when the stream starts.

#writingcommunity #writesky
Beenjamin perches on a journal, which is open to two pages full of blue ink. He is, specifically, standing on his for front legs.
November 12, 2025 at 8:13 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
Sebastian (my Christmas cactus) has a tendency to produce only one bloom every few weeks during the winter, and this week, he's sprouted his first.

Of course Beenjamin had to see it.
Beenjamin (a plush bee) hovers over two potted Christmas cacti. One has a single pink bloom growing from it. On a windowsill in the background are various gardening implements, including a bottle of succulent plant food, a trowel, and gloves.
November 12, 2025 at 3:19 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
FFXIV but steampunk
OR: Rolling nat 20s on persuasion for fun, profit, and avoiding divine wars.
⭐Ace/bi friends-to-lovers
⭐Answering destiny with YOU'RE NOT MY DAD
⭐Art/music as defiance
⭐Hopepunk + art nouveau vibes
🐉Dragons!
🐝Bee people!
#Hopepit #hopepunk #WIP #F #NA
Moodboard of eight images. Top left: A figure plays a violin in a dark room. The image is shot in such a way that only the violin and one of the player's hands is visible. Center left: A man stands in darkness; his head is on fire. Bottom left: A wireframe of a dragon against a bright orange background Top/mid center: Alphonse Mucha's Emerald, featuring a woman staring intensely at the viewer as she leans against the head of a snarling serpent. A white line is drawn straight through the image to neatly divide the woman's head from the serpent's. Bottom center: The Lovers, from the Art Nouveau Tarot deck, featuring a couple just about to kiss. The card is lying on a white space, surrounded by red/white roses. Top right: A figure in white robes wanders through a very green forest. Center right: A bolt of lightning arcs above a mountain range in a very violet sky. Bottom right: A black hole swirls in a sea of violet stars and nebulae.
November 9, 2025 at 7:01 AM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
All Mick wanted was to keep his best friend Eleanor safe on their first adventure. But when fate binds him to a dead god and transforms him into a dragon, Mick's forced to rise from sidekick to king before a divine war wipes out the people he's been chosen to protect.
#Hopepit #hopepunk #WIP #NA #F
Three-panel moodboard consisting of three pieces by Alphonse Mucha. Left: Emerald. A serpent snarls at the viewer from amidst green lilies. Center: The Moon. A woman wearing nothing but a navy blanket covered in stars stands against a backdrop consisting of the night sky and a crescent moon. She covers her smile with one hand. This image is noticeably lower in quality than its neighboring panels. Right: Salon des Cent. A woman conceals her mouth with a hand, her index finger curled down. She's glaring intensely at the viewer. A golden filigree lines the bottom and frames the sides, partially covering the left and right panels.
November 9, 2025 at 7:01 AM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
#WIPSnips *slaps hands on table and chants* Beeple beeple beeple beeple BEEPLE BEEPLE. 8) 🐝🐝🐝

(Our first look at the honey bee people of TNS, the zizzun.)
With an uncertain nod, Mick followed her to one stall and stopped. There, behind baskets of breads and sticky-looking cakes wrapped in wax paper, beside a temporary wooden shelf containing rows of honey jars, stood three shopkeepers. They were a little taller than the diminutive gnomes, but the resemblance between these shopkeepers and anything Mick was familiar with ended there. Three little merchants—one in a dress and the other two in button-down shirts and slacks—stared up at Mick and Eleanor with a pair each of large, solidly black eyes set in heart-shaped faces. They twitched black antennae at their two new customers; these antennae, the mops of fuzzy hair atop their heads, and their large, pitch-black eyes were the only features adorning their tea-brown faces. The one on the left, the one in the dress, fluttered a pair of gossamer wings at their back, and a buzz filled the stall. The other two buzzed in response, and the one in the middle raised one of their four black, three-fingered hands in greeting. “Good afternoon!” they said in a high-pitched voice. “Would you be interested in trying our cornflower honey? Provides a quick jolt of water lumina for hot summer days!”
November 8, 2025 at 2:21 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Newly transformed, Mick struggles to control the apex predator he happens to be living inside of at the moment.
A deafening crack shattered the stillness of the forest. Mick flinched hard, then swung his head around, into the heavy scent of cooked meat and ozone. “Eleanor?” he hissed. He caught her scent first: jasmine and pear threaded underneath the cooked meat of whatever she had apparently electrocuted. His ears pricked, and he could feel his eyes adjust to scan the brush before he realized he was watching every leaf of the underbrush for the slightest movement. Claws digging into the earth, he willed his muscles to relax. Easy. It was just Eleanor. Not prey.
November 7, 2025 at 2:10 PM
jaxwolffwrites.bsky.social
NaNo, day 5: 1870.

Short-eff chapter consisting only of a conversation between the Dead God and Mick, but we *do* get:
1. A glimpse of one of the big bad antagonists.
2. Consequences!
3. Foreshadowing!
4. The Dead God, who is a delight, ngl. *motions*

#NamelessSong #NaNoWriMo
“People,” the Dead God prompted. “You’re good with people, whether you wish to acknowledge that or not.” He lowered his hand. “Eleanor was right about you. Perhaps you should listen to her more often, rather than treat her like something to protect.” Okay, that stung. Mick shut his mouth and felt his glare dissolve into a fuzzy, weak something. The Dead God gave him the ghost of a smile. “She’s a person, Mick, not a goddess. It would be best to see her like a person. It may be vital for your survival,” the Dead God said. Mick blushed. “I-I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating here. I’ve always seen Eleanor as a person.” “Yes. More so than most other people. I know. So you say.” The Dead God waved a hand in the air. “And yes, I realize you think you have more important things to worry about, but perhaps the message is less about trivial matters and more a hint about your best path forward.”
November 6, 2025 at 5:51 AM