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Box of Tricks
2022 schedule
February 1: Writer sign ups begin
March 1: Writer sign ups close
May 1: Artist sign ups begin
May 31: Artist sign ups close
July 1: Writers’ rough drafts (6,600 words minimum)/full outlines due. Story summaries also due
July 9: Artist Claims Day. Artists will claim stories based on anonymous story summaries, first come, first served
September 23: Final stories (10,000 words minimum) and artwork/vids due
October: Posting begins
Many thanks to the one and only![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
norfolkdumpling for creating our banner, icons and comm layout.
March 1: Writer sign ups close
May 1: Artist sign ups begin
May 31: Artist sign ups close
July 1: Writers’ rough drafts (6,600 words minimum)/full outlines due. Story summaries also due
July 9: Artist Claims Day. Artists will claim stories based on anonymous story summaries, first come, first served
September 23: Final stories (10,000 words minimum) and artwork/vids due
October: Posting begins
Many thanks to the one and only
norfolkdumpling for creating our banner, icons and comm layout. Stories and Art/Vids
Style Credit
- Style: Neutral Good for Practicality by timeasmymeasure
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That ain't no bleedin' drabble!
Date: 2011-08-25 08:12 pm (UTC)It was Christmas Eve. bodie sat siftly on the bed, sipping exquisite eggnog.
He looked at the experienced wall hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, doyle had hung it there, just before they looked at each other throatily and then fell into each other's arms and kissed each other's cock.
If only I hadn't been so intelligent, bodie thought, pouring a tough amount of rum into his eggnog. Then doyle might not have got so ethereal and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a muscular tear and held his mouth in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a masculine voice lifted strenuously up in song.
I'm dreaming of an irritable Christmas
Just like a rotting smoked haddock
bodie ran to the door. It was doyle, looking fey all over with snow.
"I missed you angrily," doyle said. "And I wanted to kiss your cock again."
bodie hugged doyle and started to sob.
"I think you're drunk," doyle said.
"I think so too," bodie said and they kissed each other's cock until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted cat arse and lived shyly until bodie got drunk again.