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the taste of stories

@ink-flavored / ink-flavored.tumblr.com

annika (he/him & she/her) / 26 / writer of many genres

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hey there!! i’m Annika and welcome to my writeblr! feel free to navigate your way around using the handy links below this is a sideblog, so all likes/asks/follows will come from my main, @livingthedragonlife

General

Writeblr Intro - Get to know me!
#annika talks - My tag for every original post I make!
Like what I do? Consider donating to my Ko-Fi!
I do writing commissions too! Check out my request sheet.
Want to get on any of my tag lists? Check out my Google form!

Original WIPs

Prose
Pride & Justice
The God-Dragon’s Wife
Unnamed Dream WIP
Tales from Athendrolyn
Athendrolyn After Dark Space Cruise WIP
Firesoul
Out of the Park
Poetry
My Poetry tag
Magnetic Poetry & Magnet Monday series

Fanfiction WIPs

come visit me on Ao3!
Cut Off (Completed)
Whiskey, No Chaser (Completed)
Haunted House Sweet Home (Completed)
Angle of Approach (In-Progress)
To Gift the Divine (Completed)
AU-gust 2022 Series (Completed)

Additional Links

Writeblr games I’ve made
Neocities Website
Portfolio Site
Script Formatting Guide Series
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#1 for Spotify wrapped

(Or if you e done it already then 86)

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“Will disappeared in front of me. I could have done more.” Astrea frowned up at the towering Antor. He flinched at her rage-filled guilt, comparable to his own. But hers, louder, “You trusted me with him!” Her lips trembled, and her voice cracked in desperation. “I should have tried harder and thought faster—like you taught me!” The moonlight shone on her, and moon bugs erupted around her like cinders rising with her grief. “What were those lessons for? What were they all for if I couldn't save him?”  His surprised red eyes met hers. Grief weighed on equal sides, one unable to topple the other.  “They shouldn’t have done this to us,” she grimaced, red-hot anger foreign on her face. “They grow fat in the capital, happy to be separated from the turmoil of hate and war.” She growled, shaken by the fresh grief and anguish of all they had lost. “They wish to destroy a people that they dont even know! And for what?” Astrea begged. She tried to stop the trembling as she watched Antor step towards her. Red hot tears streamed down her face as she continued, “This wretched nation has become terrorists! For a cause that will only ruin them more! It will only separate them from the world more! For what? For what?!”

Bloodless Heir. Book 1. Chapter 8.

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find the word

tagged by @writingrosesonneptune, thank you! my words are reach, turn, held, and crack. since the final chapter (!!) comes out tomorrow, these are all from The Perils of Wanting.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

reach

Rizeth glanced to where the wagons and all their occupants sat and talked and laughed and ate, and Ashenivir wanted them gone, all gone. Why did it matter if anyone saw them simply touching? He started to reach out, but his hand stuttered to a stop before it reached Rizeth’s arm, fingers curling uselessly into his palm.

turn

The light domestic clatter behind him was bitterly wonderful; the warm scent of ginger mixed with the faint sound of Ashenivir humming idly under his breath made his heart turn over in his chest, and if he closed his eyes he could pretend, for a moment, that this was real. That Ashenivir would bring him tea with a light touch to his shoulder, kiss him without either of them asking for it. Be as much his in this quiet moment as he was in any scene. It wasn’t going to happen. He opened his eyes and focused on the runic deviations in front of him without really seeing them. If Ashenivir was going to find domestic bliss with anyone, it wouldn’t be him.

held

“You could get him what I got Cain for his last birthday,” River suggested. “Would he wear cuffs like that?” Ashenivir thought of the metal bands that always adorned Cain’s wrists, and transposed them to Rizeth’s. Silver to match his collar, glinting in the candlelight of the bedroom as the hands that wore them held him down and— He cleared his throat. “I think so.”

crack

The storm seemed fixed in place, refusing to budge from above the inn. Every sky-rending crack of thunder rattled the room, every lightning strike illuminating Ashenivir’s fear in awful, flat brightness. His fingers dug painfully into Rizeth’s leg—his turn to leave bruises tonight, apparently.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

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i was gonna see if someone tagged me in anything recently to have an excuse to post this bit bc i like it but i don't feel like scrolling through my activity so im just gonna post it anyway

“i am the black death that eradicates filth.” the wolf’s voice is much deeper than sjaak’s; a cavernous rasp that shudders the foundations even of the house that still dares to stand amidst their trial. “i need not a reason to ferry your soul to The Devil.”

writing in the middle of the night is always such a gamble. who knows what I'll come up with? a masterpiece, so gut-wrenchingly beautiful that it'll leave you questioning the meaning of life? indecipherable gibberish, sentences so oddly structured that there's no way to tell where tf I was trying to go with them? best of luck to future me, she's gonna have one hell of a time finding out.

a scene can start wherever you want it to

writing isn't real life. You don't need to set up a character walking into a room or two characters greeting each other and talking about the weather or what-have-you in order to lead into the conversation you actually want them to have. just start at the conversation.

hell, start in the middle of the conversation. you could even start at the end and then have one of them leave and the other one left behind to reflect back on what just happened.

writing gets easier when you open yourself up to writing the parts that are interesting, to starting where it's easy instead of where you think you should start.

if it ends up not working? that's okay. you tried it, and sometimes just getting something out of your head is a necessary first step to getting the words right

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heads up seven up

tagged by @zmwrites, thank you! final Perils of Wanting chapter on FRIDAY so here’s some good good lines from the fic so far, ft Classic Rizeth Pining Behaviours (this bit is from Chapter Two)

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

He did pick up a few shards of the crystal that proliferated on the cavern ceiling from her—if nothing else, the fact that it continued to glow after it had been harvested made it useful, and he thought perhaps Ashenivir might like it. He realised afterwards that what he’d just done was buy Ashenivir a souvenir, and debated whether throwing himself into the geyser might not be the simplest cure for his idiocy. A long, distracting walk seemed the second-best solution, and one considerably less scalding, so Rizeth went wandering. He spent a good few hours taking in the small town and the svirfneblin ingenuity prevalent throughout. Not a speck of magic in the machines that harnessed the heat of the springs; all of it was pure engineering. Ashenivir would be fascinated, he thought, then winced. So much for a distraction.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Mature content

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Anthology Blast Prompt 8: Come In, The Water's Fine

for the Athendroyln After Dark Anthology Full prompt list for the Anthology Blast Tips are appreciated! Contains: orgies, outdoor sex, anal sex, oral sex, naiad/magic holes, magic refractory periods, marathon sex, threesomes, platonic sex/friends-with-benefits

Admit it, Ceki. We’re lost.”

No, we are not lost.”

“Then what, exactly, are we doing?”

Ceki smacked a branch out of his face, cloven hooves crunching under grass and leaves. Their fairy lights bobbed overhead, lighting the path through the darkened forest. “We’re going,” he replied, annoyed at his friend’s annoyance, “to the naiad’s lake.”

“You keep saying that,” Aimar sighed, trudging along with his arms folded over his chest, “but I don’t see a lake or naiads.”

“We just have to follow the river!” Ceki gestured to their right, where the rushing current of Parelia River flowed downhill to Athendrolyn and into the sea. “It’ll take us right to the lake and then we’re golden.”

“We’ve been following the river for half an hour. Don’t you think we should have gotten there by now?”

 “I don’t know, I’ve never been this deep into the forest.”

“Wait, hold on.” Aimar threw his tawny arm out to stop them from walking. “You’re telling me you’ve been leading us by guessing the directions?”

Ceki smacked him away. “You have any better ideas?”

“I do actually. Going home.”

“We haven’t even made it to the party!”

No party is worth this—we can go to any dorm party!”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, my pointy-eared friend.” He threw an arm over Aimar’s shoulders, lightly nudging him with his long, curved horns. “We’ve both been in this city long enough to hear the stories, right? Naiad ‘parties’ where there’s nothing but sex and magic until the sun comes up? Everyone from anywhere can join in? They’re made of magic water so they can go all night? Come on, man, you know this is worth it.”

“You know what else I’ve heard, Ceki?” Aimar shifted his weight out from under his arm. “I’ve heard about the magic illusions naiads use to mess with people who get too close.”

“We haven’t seen a single one!”

“How do you know? We could be walking in circles thanks to one of them!”

Mature content: Sexual themes

This post may contain content not suitable for all audiences.

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Anthology Blast Prompt 3: How to Train Your Dragon Trainer

for the Tales from Athendrolyn Anthology Full prompt list for the Anthology Blast Tips are appreciated! Contains: mentions of vomiting, performance anxiety, sibling teasing

“Welcome back to the final day of the 345th annual Holawynn Den Club Dragon Show, and folks, it is going to be a real nail-biter this year.”

Bula stared wide-eyed up at the TV from her living room floor, her tusks almost close enough to touch the screen. She was too excited to stay on the couch, even though it was harder to see this way. She had even dragged the family dragon, Modra, down with her. He didn’t seem to mind, coiled up in her lap and snoozing through the whole affair.

“After this weekend, I can’t believe the judges have narrowed it down to just three final competitors for the acclaimed title of Best in Show,” the first announcer continued, a cardinal harpy with a perfectly coiffed crest.

“I’m having trouble believing it myself, Theleano,” the second announcer agreed. They tongue-flicked before continuing, a rat snake naga with black and yellow scales. “I’ll be honest, it’s hard to believe any one of these dragons can beat out the other.”

“Well, Lana, the rules here at Holawynn dictate there can be only one winner. That is, until the committee stops ignoring my letters.”

“I’ll tie my tail in a knot before that happens, but more importantly, let’s get back to the show floor.”

Bula sat up, smugly superior to the announcers. She knew which dragon was going to win. When the finalists were announced the previous night, she could tell from the line-up alone which dragon was the best competitor.

The camera transitioned from the announcers’ box to the arena. Thousands of people gathered in attendance to see the most prestigious dragon show in the country, from one of the oldest-established den clubs in elvish dragon husbandry history. Bula had read at least a hundred books about it. It was probably a hundred—that’s what her mom always said about her book collection. She bounced up and down in excitement, jostling Modra in her lap. He didn’t move.

“Our first competitor doing a fly-by to start us off,” Theleano said.

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The shadows of Neverland

Chapter 2 — face your demons, or fight them

James is desperate to figure out just what the hell is happening to him, and why it seems that nothing makes sense. The shadow from the cave has other ideas, and much more interesting tricks up its sleeves.

Mature content

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Anthology Blast Prompt 6: Artificial Pollination

for the Athendroyln After Dark Anthology Full prompt list for the Anthology Blast Tips are appreciated! Contains: human/dryad, misunderstandings, accidental indecent exposure, accidental public sex, muffing, fingering, handjobs, tree/flower/non-genital sex, magic sex toys, first time (with each other), fondling, explaining sex and genitals Dysphoria warning: There is a trans woman in this story. Her genitals are referred to as: clit/clitoris, hard/erection, ball(s), testicle(s), inguinal canal(s), inguinal ring(s), cunt(s). Please use discretion if these words will trigger any dysphoria.

Candice stumbled off the train with the few other passengers who took the Athendrolyn Public Transportation rail this far out. Arborbend was the final stop on the line, and compared to the other APT rail stops, it was falling apart at the seams. The metal-framed wood structure was rickety and weather-beaten, A few planks squeaked under her boots in a way she was particularly uneasy about, considering the river was only one unfortunate accident away.

She shook herself, traipsing down the stairs. There was no way this place wasn’t magically reinforced—she hoped. It should have been.—and if it was really that structurally unsound, they wouldn’t run the train on it anyway. Besides, there was no point in letting something so small bother her today. She was meeting Maggie for plant shopping.

Candice had never been to Arborbend before, but Maggie insisted it was the neighborhood with the best plant nurseries in the city. Which made sense—being so close to the edge of town and therefore the local forest, Arborbend was the unofficial dryad population center of the city. Stepping out from the rail stop and into the midsummer sun, it was obvious.

The roads were completely dirt. No streets, no pavement, not even any wheel tracks from anyone who dared try to drive or bike. Instead, dozens of dryads glided right through the uncovered soil, almost floating as they pushed themselves along by their roots. Some planted themselves in the middle of the path, standing motionless to soak up the afternoon sun.

The buildings were all wood, some using fully grown trees in their design, and every single one had a garden. Whether it was a neatly tended window planter, or vines climbing up the walls, not a house or business crossed her eye without one. They were taller, too, and so were the doors. They reminded Candice of the “nested doors” in more populated parts of the city, but there were no alternate doors for shorter creatures here. She didn’t mind that—she had to use the taller nested doors to avoid banging her head on the “human sized” doors that were just a little too short for her. Dryad doors would be a welcome relief.

The one thing this neighborhood did not have was any street signs. Candice bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to figure out where she was going.

“Over here!”

Mature content: Sexual themes

This post may contain content not suitable for all audiences.

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Magnet Monday Week 87: Warm

i'm using this poem to manifest a single week that's over 60 degrees. the whole week. please. it's almost april.

If you’re interested in being able to choose the topic of the next poem, make sure to vote in the weekly Magnet Monday polls! Or if you want a commission just like it, check out my pricing sheet!

Transcript under the cut!

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