#was it to be festive? was it to challenge me?

[togglesbloggle]

I've got to say, it's a very strange feeling, becoming the sort of person that is in the exact target audience for Buttercup Festival.

Like, this thing has been running for decades, since 2000 if you believe wikipedia, and it got around without ever being really discussed explicitly by people I know. The strips always drifted past me every now and then without incident- neither offensive nor inoffensive, a bit puzzling at times.

And then... something? Something in me, not in the strip, that much is clear enough. But now I just love these little things to death, on a good day it's competitive with Calvin and Hobbes or something else really top-tier.

And it's just bizarre, you know? They certainly don't rely on what you'd traditionally call humor, and even when there's a belly laugh it's not because there was anything like a joke per se. But if I try to explain to people what it is that makes the strip work, I just come up with all these ridiculous sentences that may or may not mean anything.

So I went from not getting the strips at all, and just walking past them without registering their presence, to really enjoying them and considering them one of my favorite comics ever, without once passing through a moment in time where I understood what made them so poignant. Just bouncing between two very different kinds of ignorance.

And that's interesting in itself, no? One kind of wants to reason through one's aesthetic preferences. I know I do. I suppose, on the grounds that I want to reason through everything. But my experience with Buttercup Festival seems determined to resist that treatment, at least so far.

Jokes as an art form are rather interesting- they get a laugh out of us before we know why they're funny, and discussions about humor tend to be unsatisfying after the fact. Explaining a joke doesn't make it any funnier, and the experience of 'funny' itself can't really be explained. Most forms of art, you can develop a deeper appreciation of the form by breaking it down in to specific shapes and methods and styles, and find new layers of beauty as you explore the structure of it. But it seems like laughter doesn't follow the same path, exactly.

Jokes aren't necessarily the only thing with this kind of structure. The koan, also, is supposed to open something to the student without any intervening explanation or analytical framework. Like a good joke, a koan often don't seem to make any damn sense at all, and like a good joke, a koan is often quite short. So that's two examples.

So there's this tricky thing where there's a class of experiences that seems to resist explanation, and we mostly encounter it through humor, but it's not actually limited to humor per se. I don't think I have the slightest idea where the contours of that thing are, or how to explore it, even though it's quite beautiful.

I don't think it's meaningless either, even though it sort of challenges the usual ways we define that term. I don't know how deep it goes, though it's much deeper than I expected. And you can grow in it over time, either because of certain experiences or certain insights or... I don't know. It wasn't signposted. I just kinda woke up here one day.

[occamstfs]

Talismen: Beginnings

Nicky emerges with an arcane artifact after a bewildering trip through an impossible shop. In wishing his boyfriend was more confident in himself Nicky performs irrevocable and accidental magic upon the world, building his new form and dulling his mind.

And I'm back! Here's the first story of my planned CYOA series, a little long but I love how it turned out! I'll be posting the poll for Part two on Sunday, the 1st of December, the planned options are at the end of the story and it'll only last a day so if you want to take part be on the lookout! At any rate, hope you enjoy and happy to write for you once more! -Occam

It was barbarian weekend at the renaissance festival. Nicky was dressed as a wizard and his boyfriend, Simon, had long planned to go on theme and dress as a barbarian. Though as the day neared and Simon anxiously stared at his decidedly standard figure in the mirror, he instead opted to just throw on a cloak and call it a day. Arriving at the fair the pair, as expected of the theme, find themselves surrounded by burly men clad in kilts with faux fur draped atop chests beyond impressive.

Gawking at hot men is of course par for the course of this kinda event but Nicky can’t help but read the shame and embarrassment creeping into Simon’s expression as he takes in the festivities. When they eventually step into a tavern for a breather Nicky checks in, “Heyyy babe? Everything good? Seem kinda down-” Simon shakes his head and forces a smile, “Don’t worry about me B, I’m aces!” He tosses a wink out for good measure before pointedly changing the topic, “So what was it you said you’re looking to grab this year?”

Nicky narrows his eyes for half a moment wondering if he should push or challenge his clearly sulking boyfriend before deciding to let the sleeping dog lie for now, “Mmmm, I don’t know actually? Probably just an accessory for the costume? Oh! Or maybe some dice?” Simon’s expression changes into a more genuine smile as he grabs at Nicky’s arm and massages it, “Well here’s an idea. We’re right by the dice shop yeah? Howsabout we split up. I’ll grab us some beers and you go check out the offerings. Meet back here?” 

Wordlessly agreeing, Nicky leans in for a kiss and relaxes at Simon seemingly perking up. Heading off with a nod, Nicky exits the tavern, preventing him from seeing his boyfriend’s facade fade once more as he contemplates getting a drink or two ahead of his partner before his return from the shops. 

Under the impression that Simon has cheered back up, Nick is off to the races. Dice shop just across the way he begins his short trek when suddenly there’s a buzzing in the back of his mind. The sounds of the crowd around him eerily fade as if his ears are waterlogged, he shakes his head from the sudden discomfort and takes a moment to see if anyone else seems to be affected. Before he’s able to inspect his fellow festival-goers he is shocked to see a strange shop he’s never seen before.

Nestled in between a printing press and some soap store Nicky furrows his brow and wonders how he’s possibly missed the shop before now. He’s been coming for years and knows the layout of the festival like the back of his hand. After waiting a few seconds to see if anyone else is entering he takes a cautious step forward and trips as his body tries to take another without his intent. Nicky blushes as he bumps into a brawny barbarian who laughs him off and ruffles his hair, “Watch where yer -urp goin dude huhuh!” Nicky nods an apology and reflexively takes another backwards step towards the apparently new shop. In a sudden need for an expedited retreat from embarrassment, Nicky quickly rushes towards the door and away from the man bumped who eyes him taking a large swig from a tankard. 

He hasn’t the chance to notice that each step towards the shop that should not be there is quicker than the one that came before. In no time at all he tears open the door and is inside the quaint cluttered shop. While his eyes adjust from the bright fall day behind him, he takes in the scene as well as he can. The small space is filled with some bitter herbal scent and the air seems to crackle with something similar to static. Nicky of course attributes the strange prickle on his skin to nerves and continues browsing the curious shop.

There’s no real discernible theme to the shop, really it seems to be more of an antique store than anything else. In any normal situation Nicky would have already dipped back out, but something in the back of his mind keeps pulling him in deeper. Walking past strange dolls and stranger bottled liquids, the almost ticklish sensation continues to assail him with unconscious step forward. His spacial awareness tells him he has wandered further than should be possible but it’s almost as if he has no option to continue forward. Coming up on a curtained doorway Nicky’s hands move as if possessed to part the blinds and his eyes finally lay upon what supernatural, impossible thing must be drawing him inward. 

It would be the perfect accessory for his costume. It would be the perfect accessory to put on and never take off again. It will be perfect. It will be his. He needs it more than anything. His eyes shine with the ruby tinges reflecting off the talisman as he inches towards the pedestal it lies upon. His hand reaches towards the object of his desires and burns as the prickling sensation comes to a head. He grimaces as it turns to an almost boiling heat before his fingers touch it and the impossibly intense sensation instantly disappears. Nicky jumps due to the sudden almost atmospheric change and before recovering he almost has a heart attack as who must be the shopkeep shouts from behind him, “HELLO HELLO YOUNG NICHOLAS!” 

Nicky scrambles to hide behind the pedestal and inspect the mystery man, his vision momentarily tinged scarlet. As the twinges of whatever static sensation filled him moments ago begin to fade totally, he finds himself suddenly able to realize how strange everything about this is. He gulps as he sees a man dressed as a campy wizard adjusting his glasses, “Well it seems you found what you were looking for eh old sport?” Nicky looks down at the still shimmering necklace in his hands, stuttering incoherently as his mind races to understand. 

In the half second his eyes were off the wizardly shopkeep, the man has crept up behind once more. Now throwing an arm around Nicky he helps him to his feet and begins leading away from the curtained room, “Hup hup- Now you must be very careful with your words now young Nicholas. Do tell Simon I said hello hm?” Nicky again looks at the necklace in hand and, hanging to the rational world by a thread, inquires, “P- Pay? Did I pay for this?”  The wizardly man laughs and pats him on the back, “Oh don’t you worry ah ha ha! Hah.” The wizardly man winks, though even doing so there is an after image of a red eye staring into and through Nicky. The younger man opens his mouth to question the clearly mystic magus of the artifact and his intentions though before he gets a chance the wizard shouts.

“Do have fun at the festival my boy!” with that he brusquely pushes Nicky forward and he finds himself outdoors by a printing press and soap shop. Fearful of turning around to see there is no store there Nicky looks down to find himself wearing the talisman. Grabbing at it he finds the same sensation that filled him minutes ago, though muted. Pleasant. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he is again bumped into, this time by someone whose vision is clearly obscured by a mask, “Sho- Shorry!” Nicky sighs and apologizes, though the physical sensation and awkwardness brings him back to reality. Shaking off anxiety and pushing down whatever it is just happened he heads off to meet his boyfriend at the tavern. 

Returning to find Simon housing his third ale, Nicky quickly downs his own to distract from the strange anxiety that remains persuasive in spite of their reunion. Wishing for distraction, it comes swiftly and in short order the pair are out and about enjoying all the festivities that the faire has to offer, various sloppy meats on a stick, bird shows and jesters, and a firework show to cap it all off. The day soars by in short order and Nicky, wanting to forget about his encounter in that place that wasn't, does just that with shocking, almost supernatural, ease. In fact anything Nicky seems to desire almost falls at his feet. With but an imperceptible red shine in his eyes Nicky finds himself wanting for nothing. The same could not be said for his boyfriend.

After sobering up, his dour jealousy for the superior male form returns and as much as Simon tries to hide it from Nicky, the long day has dulled his ability to disguise anything from his boyfriend. On the long walk back to the car Nicky initially avoids bringing it up, but after an eventful day of getting just about everything he desires, he can’t help but try and get to the root of Simon’s sour attitude. “Can you just tell me what’s up babe?” Groaning as he unlocks the car door the weary man answers, “It’s nothing Nick. I’m just- UGH! I wish I wasn’t so self-concious or had actually gone to the gym or-” turning to see Nicky’s puppy dog eyes for not realzing his discomfort Simon groans and apologies, “Don’t worry it’s fine, I um, I had fun!”

Mind flashing back to the barbarian costume that Simon ultimately decided not to wear, love for his boyfriend overwhelms him and he reaches out to hold his lover’s free hand. Hidden underneath his own cloak, Nicky’s talisman flashes red as the sticky staticky sensation returns stronger than it had been even in the shop. He doesn’t whisper or even coherently think the words as he immediately drifts off to sleep in the passenger seat, but the intention is more than enough for the die to be cast. I wish Nicky had more confidence. I wish he was less self-conscious. I wish he was proud of his body. 

Subconscious wish made Nicky’s ruby red eyes remain closed as he falls into an incredibly deep sleep, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts. He squirms slightly behind the wheel as he suddenly feels warm. Mind too muddled to wallow he feels every inch of his body suddenly buzzing with energy, as if an espresso was being dripped into his veins. Looking at his sleeping boyfriend his thoughts shift immediately from self-criticism and body dysmorphia to a lustful, almost primal hunger for his mate. Nicky’s hand still burning hot on his own despite the blaring aircon, he fights the urge to bring the sleeping man’s hand to his cock as it begins to stir. 

Before they’ve even left the parking lot Simon is overwhelmed with a lust for his partner stronger than anything he has felt in some time. Hitting the open road he chews his lip to distract from his cock doing its best to pop the seam in his pants, constantly he’s choking down horny grunts and groans to prevent the sleeping Nicky from waking up. Arriving at their shared home, he struggles to gracefully exit the car with his rod standing firmer than he assumed it could. Eventually making it out, he goes to pick up his still sleepy passenger. 

With a great deal of effort, Simon successfully stills his hips and quiets his lusts to pick up his sleeping suitor. Baring the urges of his body he realizes that the task is far easier than it should be, Nicky’s not heavy but- Any further inquisition is stilled as he reflexively takes a deep breath of his sleeping lover and is promptly overwhelmed. Nicky’s floral shampoo and deodorant mix with b.o. from an unseasonably warm day in the sun and Simon doesn’t have the strength to quiet the grunt that erupts from him as his cock throbs and prods Nicky in the back. 

Eyes blearily open as the sleeping wizard stirs and stretches in the arms of his lover. “Wha? Si?” The self-conscious Simon, embarrassed at waking up his boyfriend quickly puts him down. He blushes as Nicky steadies himself on his arms, still yawning he chastises his boyfriend for letting him fall asleep, “You didn’t *ahwn* didn haf to do tha babe, *awh*” Rubbing his ruby-tinged eyes he can’t quite make out the finer details of his boyfriend, but he would swear he’s looking further up than he usually does to make eye contact. Simon waves him off, “It’s fine, I’m not even tired really.” 

Leaning down to give him a hug, Simon angles his head into Nicky’s nape he takes another deep breath, this time not even trying to mute the groan that spills forth, “MMmhm, y’know now that you’re up the night’s still young…” Nicky tilts his head before understanding as Simon’s cock throbs once more into his abdomen, shaking off the sleep Nicky’s own package begins to stir as he leads his partner into their home, “Well now that you mention it~”

Nicky starts disrobing when Simon grabs his hand, some small amount of discomfort hiding in his expression as he asks, “Would you mind if I, um, topped? This time?” Nicky tilts his head before nodding cheerily, “feeling frisky huh?” Nicky performatively poses before seemingly doing some mental math and continuing, “it’s been a minute haha! Let me just hop in the shower real quick and then we’ll have some fun!”

Already feeling like he’s overstepping Simon doesn’t mention his desire for Nicky to not shower. Something feral need within him forces forward an urge to tackle and fuck then and there but he pushes such thoughts down and waits as patiently as he can. Preparing to bottom on such a short notice, Nicky quickly strips and his eyes land upon the talisman hanging from his neck once more. Pursing his lips he goes to take the necklace off, though as his fingers clasp the chain he shivers as it sends a sensitive pang searing through him. Why would he take it off. Feeling immediately more alert and needy, Nicky swiftly hops in the shower to prepare for some fun.

Outside the bathroom his boyfriend taps his foot anxiously, sending a deep, impatient echo through the room. Irritated at the sound he stands and quickly disrobes himself. After getting the cloak off, the room is filled with slight groans of effort as he struggles to get off his shirt. It’s almost stuck to his skin? Probably from sweat he thinks but each time he wrenches it up it only frees about an inch more room. His irritation prevents him from noticing how it decidedly hugs new weight on his chest or cuts into apparently thicker biceps.

The sound of the shirt straining fills the room and he grinds his teeth as the prospect of being stuck in the top any longer is unbearable. His hands stretch longer and strain shifts to tearing as he rips the tunic off with a grunt. Exposed to the open air is a sweaty body far more impressive than when the man struggled to get ready that morning. Looking at the torn shirt in his hand he blushes as his eyes trail up his forearms and stare at a bicep that’s begging to be flexed. 

Stepping out wearing only a towel and his talisman, Nicky smiles as he stares at Simon appreciating his arms, “Couldn’t have waited for me to put on the show huh?” Simon turns to see his boyfriend drop the towel and he loses control. Any sign of intelligence in his eyes vacates as he manhandles the man onto the bed. For his part Nicky assumes this to be roleplay, almost giggling from delight as the typically meek man ragdolls him onto the bed. Drool leaks from Simon's maw as he grunts and groans, struggling to free the throbbing package still trapped in his shorts.

Being straddled, Nick takes the chance to carefully observe his boyfriend’s body, appreciating the view that he seldom gets. For the life of him he doesn’t understand why Si got so worked up, with arms like that and a chest- or? When did he start working out actually? Nicky frees a hand to touch the man’s powerful torso and Simon shivers, reflexively rutting into him as his cock growing even harder sends the sound of fabric straining through the room. He’s decidedly firmer, heavier. Nicky sees hair begin to grow on the man’s chest and his mind for half a second hears the echoing laughter of a man he wished to forget. Though there’s no time to think as Simon goes for the tried and true method of just ripping his clothes off.

Eyes wide with wonder, Nicky watches as biceps bulge larger with each tug, shoulder span expanding as his hands yank and tear. His mouth falls open as he sees a cock clearly larger than the one that he knows Simon to have. Gulping as he realizes he’s agreed to take this dick that stretches up to his sternum, Nicky blushes and Simon smirks as he leans down to snarl or whisper something in his lover’s ear. 

Nicky feels pre dripping onto his chest as the larger man leans down, his arms land to either side of the man exposing pits dripping with sweat and just before he speaks or growls, the talisman flashes red. Eyes focused on each other neither man sees some shard of light go from the charm into Simon. His eyes roll back and close before he falls down onto Nicky. Immediately concerned for his love, Nicky struggles to shift the man off him and call for help before he hears Simon begin to snore. His body feels like a furnace atop Nicky’s, a cock still erect continues to throb into his stomach and gush pre in between the two of them. He feels patches of hairs thicker than Simon typically carries scratching him. Nicky tries to force the sleeping oaf off him before quickly tuckering himself out.

It was a long day after all. Nicky yawns as he sees the back of the man lying atop him. It’s not right, too wide, too heavy. His ass is not that large his- ughh. With another shove to wake or move Simon, Nicky feels weariness truly overtake him and his scarlet eyes flutter. The sleeping man moves his arms to hug Nicky tight and the seemingly smaller man has no recourse but to give way, his sides tickled by patches of pit hair dripping with sweat. Nick’s head tips forward a few times as he struggles to stay awake though the sound of his lover’s new snores lull him to sleep.

In the morning Nicky wakes to find himself free from Simon’s grasp, though the man’s sweat stains leave a clear outline around him on the bed and his torso remains sticky from pre. His head aches with a hangover though after the faintest wish that it end, so it does. Groaning he gets to his feet and heads off to shower once more, en route he finds a note from Si: “heyyy babe woke up w so much energy!!! gonna go for a run or to the gym idk :) c u soon thooooo<3”  Nicky  rubs sleep from his eyes and reads the short note a few times over, “hmmm. Weird.” Shrugging he goes about his day as usual, cleaning up, brewing coffee, doing the crossword. Something in the back of his mind says he usually does this with Simon, but that can’t be right? He’d never want to do that. His eye twitches as unbeknownst to him, with each step further away his love has truly begun to change from his unintentional intentions into a man who will never feel shame again.

Simon doesn’t know why he feels so compelled to get up and at ‘em. For years he has given himself ultimatums, scheduled gym sessions, dieted and done his best, but there has not been a moment in his life where he has felt more drive, more purpose than his flight from their shared bed. It’s like he’s a new man with nothing on his mind but getting some meat on his bones. He barely had the wherewithal to leave a note for his lover, as is clear by the lack of eloquence.

Nor is that the only aspect askew from Simon’s typical self. As his anxiety at being perceived shirtless may suggest, the man is always conscious of how he looks. Rarely does a day go by without Simon giving himself a painstaking once over in front of the mirror, be it applying makeup or designing an outfit. To simply throw on a tshirt and leave without even rinsing his face is anathema, and yet after doing just that and throwing on his boyfriend’s sneakers, finding his own far too tight, he’s out the door well before the sun begins to rise. 

His feet fall heavy on the sidewalk as his shabby outfit soon enough finds itself straining. Grimacing at the constriction it becomes clear that these clothes are far too tight and getting tighter with each step it seems. Nevertheless he presses onward until there is stinging pain from his feet struggling against their binds. While he’s been content to ignore or misinterpret the sounds of his own tshirt beginning to fray, as well as the pain that such constriction entails, he doesn’t want to ruin Nicky’s shoes. And so scrambling for somewhere to sit down he hops on a bench and begins to struggle with the laces.

Simon’s toes struggle against frontal fabric while the shoes’ tongues press into laces that simply must be cutting into the tops of his feet. Simon’s mind is clearly slowing down as he takes a few seconds too long to simply watch his feet expand beyond containment before, with a gasp, pain jogs him into action. At first he goes to untie them before he’s unable to recall precisely how to do that. Immediately switching to the task already begun by his growing feet he reaches in and simply tears each shoe in two.

His arms bulge with the effort involved in splitting them in twain, biceps that never were begin to appear and push his short sleeves to their limit as new muscle presses onto his chest. Looking down at his hands, decidedly more masc, the man can do nothing but observe his new form as it begins to extol an untenable price on his mind. With each new manly aspect so too will the cogs of his mind continue to slow.

Looking at his boyfriend's shredded shoes, Simon is immediately guilty though he releases a contented sigh as his feet flex free from their confines. His newly one track mind is then thrown off-course and his eyes narrow at the feet bare on cold concrete. They were not simply chafing or something reasonable of the sort, they are too big. They’re larger than his shoes and seem to still be growing larger. And wait- Why did he leave the house without wearing socks!? 

Simon shakes his head to try and focus on one question at a time, though before peace comes there is a searing pain from his legs as his changes continue upward. Calves burst from his bony legs while athletic shorts are clearly strained by thighs that any man would kill for. Thick, perhaps barbarous, curls begin to issue forth from any pore exposed as he clutches with his newly thicker hands into muscle still hardening, still pumping larger. 

Grunting loudly, Simon falls off the bench as ever spreading changes spread towards his glutes. His pert ass hardens and grows to a size that would attract attention no matter what he wears to try and hide it under. His whole lower body cramps with growth as his legs extend, wider feet scratching into dirt as calves and thighs lengthen while his pulse continues to race from the shock of this impossible transformation. Struggling with the new weight of self, his rougher hands pressed into the ground his duller mind is unable to reconcile what is happening to him with reality. The sound of blood rushing through his ears mutes the world around him and at the slightest lapse he simply forgets.

“Why am I on my hands?” Through bleary eyes he stares at hands too wide, fingers longer and thicker. He trails upward and almost scoffs as he sees forearms and biceps not nearly as defined as they should be, after another moment mouth agog he guffaws as he presumes to have put one and one together, “Oh ahuhuh- I must be workin’ out here?” Licking his lips as he is filled with an otherworldly surge of energy, Simon gets started following one of the most common impulses that is to evermore make itself at home in his mind. He starts doing some push ups.

Immediately do his biceps burn with effort as they put on weight at an impossible rate. Simon grunts with the effort of taking the wheel and commanding his body to be more powerful. His heart pounds in his chest as, just like every piece of fabric before, his shirt quickly gives way outright to the progress of growth. To the strengthening of self. With each dip towards the earth his pecs come closer to touching the cold soil before bouncing as his powerful arms rocket him back upwards with precision. 

Simon continues exercising until his arms burn as numb as his new, slower mind. Not only does muscle continue to pack on with every punch upwards, but his impressive form is just as quickly patterned with burgeoning body hair. Sweat drips down onto a chest rapidly peppered with curls and steams off a back which holds hair slowly rising from his lightly furred ass. Sweaty steam trails upwards from widening shoulders and bulky traps into the cold autumn air as heavy breath mists from behind gnashing teeth. Nowhere does the hair grow thicker than under his powerful arms as a jungle of hair grows outward from his pits and sends distinct trails of sweat down his trunk like biceps and across his hulking pecs.

Body hair and brawn are not the only decidedly improved aspects of the man either. Just as he continues to pack on muscle with each thrust upwards, so too is his crotch pulled closer to the ground with every descent. His briefs struggle against a package rapidly growing beyond any tenable containment. Balls bulge larger to supply his impressive form with the hormones required for the growth he demands of it, pubes cascading upward and outward as they strive to assert that Simon’s masculinity shall never be in question. 

So too does his cock throb and push against the confines of his underwear enough to be plainly visible. Not only from growing erect as his heart races, but from expanding to be the most impressive rod either he or his lover have ever seen. With the slightest glance down to see his new cock, he smirks and shivers as he imagines topping Nicky with that beast. 

This of course sends such a powerful surge of lust through him that the bulging cock immediately bursts free from the briefs outright, leaving him clad in nothing. His cock, now free, drips pre onto the earth as he continues working out a few moments longer in the buff, plain for anyone to see were the streets not thankfully empty. Guffawing to himself after thrusting his new cock into the ground a few times in the process of pushing up, Simon’s new bovine mind eventually realizes he’s fully nude and public and quickly stumbles to his feet. “Oh shit huhuh-” He stands and scratches the back of his head and tries to plan some form of escape, in the process he flexes his bicep and can’t help but smirk as he sees the veins bulging along its impressive length.

Feeling his still turgid cock bounce with every slight movement, he continues laughing before looking down to see shredded clothes scattered at his colossal feet. Seeing the pile of clothes outgrown, Simon does everything short of drooling as he for the first time takes in his new form. Massive hands trail across padded muscle as the urgency of covering his dick fades from his mind. 

When his sweaty pecs begin to glimmer from the rising sun he is immediately thrown back into awareness of his active criminal behavior. Checking the coast is clear once more, he pauses for a moment wondering what the big deal is about public nudity before being chastised by some internal Nicky. Simon turns back to the bench and laughs dumbly as he sees his gym bag lying discarded.

Pouncing like an animal, he quickly tears into and retrieves shorts that will surely leave nothing to the imagination. Nevertheless he throws them on and grimaces as they tightly hug his ass and package. Seeing shirts thrown to the side he scratches his face and his face quivers as he feels stubble grace it for the first time. He purses his lips just to feel a moustache scratch his nose and absolutely disregards the idea that he needs a shirt. Why would he cover up anything beyond what is necessary. Surely the world would be more than grateful at the chance to see his form he asserts, bouncing his pecs and chuckling as he does so.

Finding himself with nothing to do besides appreciate how built he truly is now, Simon uses his phone as a mirror to inspect every angle and uses whatever sparing space in his mind to keep track of the best ones. The massive man shivers as the sweaty steam rising from him briefly glimmers red, making it clear that Nicky’s will has been enacted on his lover and announcing the fulfillment of his will. Nevermore will he be self-conscious, quite the opposite in fact. As morning commuters begin their grind many offer a passing glance to the by all accounts himbo drooling at his own reflection, and never does one escape without receiving a wink or flex from the man.

When a pair of jocks eye him with jealousy on the way to class he holds back laughter, the idea that not twenty-four hours ago he was just like them, smaller even, is inconceivable to the new man. Though to be fair, much now lies beyond the realm of conceivability for the man. He thinks about offering some tips to the pair though refrains as something needles him far, far in the back of his simple mind. There was something he was supposed to do yeah?

Furrowing his brow in as deep a concentration as he can muster, Simon’s eyes close and his hands clench at his head as he tries to think. Laundry? Huhuh as if- Meal prep? Then why would he be out here? Simon starts groaning in frustration and tapping his larger, still bare, foot on the sidewalk. Ephemeral ideas he might have latched onto in a life before this one drift past before he gives up and sits down, crossing his arms. The bench creaks under his new weight as he almost petulantly reclines, head back and eyes blank.

Suddenly he jolts up and almost hits himself for not doing the obvious straight away. Obviously Nicky’ll know what to do! His clumsy hands struggle to get his phone from the pocket of his shorts and he smiles at the lock screen, a picture of Nicky being smothered by his massive arms. Simon then squints and bites his tongue in concentration as now even this requires some degree of effort. Quickly enough he dials up his beau and almost vibrates from the excitement of hearing his voice. 

Back at home Nicky is playing a game though squeezes the phone in his headset as he sees Simon calling, “Hey baby? What’s up, early start today huh?” Would that he had a tail to wag, Simon laughs and answers, “ha uhhh, yeah somethin’ like that- uhhhhh. Yo did you uh, know what I was plannin’ on doing this morning?” Nicky tilts his head, for a moment he swears something is off with his boyfriend’s voice. Then his eyes go blank and his vision flickers red before, no it’s always been like that? Nicky swears something about his long hours at the gym over the years made him drop a few octaves but that’s neither here nor there. 

Nicky shakes off this small stupor, “Yeah Si, you said you were going to the gym no?” an eye twitches, “y’know, like usual?” Excitement once more sets fire in Simon’s veins as he nods and laughs at himself for forgetting such a simple routine, “Ahhh what would I do without you babe huhuh!” He kisses his cellphone and winks at a woman walking her dog who was giving him a side-eye. “Well you have fun dude! Gonna go get a MASSIVE pump in!” Nicky wryly grins and rolls his eyes, “you too, you too b, see you later-” With that he gets back to the game, intentionally ignoring the crimson buzzing at the back of his mind as both men set off to tackle the obstacles of the day, totally unaware of the lives they are to unintentionally change evermore. 

Potentialities: (Poll on Sunday the First at 12 AM CST)

Gonna keep this one limited as a test run! If you have any suggestions on where you'd like me to go do please shout! Happy to get real wacky with it if there’s an interest!

Nicky Routes:

Grow up you asshole: Getting flamed in game Nicky’s clapback  teaches a gamer to be a real man (Bear/Dilf TF) 

Man you always play him: Well intentioned words bring his gamer friend far closer in mind, body, and spirit to his favorite character- Fictional character TF (Would prompt another poll for sure, haven’t done one of these before but if there’s a demand we’ll see!)

Simon Routes: (More standard faire jock/himbo tfs)

Sorry for the backwash bro: Accidentally sharing a drink causes his himbofication to spread 

Let’s get pumped: Simon finds work as a personal trainer and is far more effective than he has any right to be 

[pinkslipxox]

ahhh i love the one where the twins were sick could you do something similar but when like it’s near Christmas and like they can’t stop throwing up🥲

omg thank uuu, hope you like it 🥰🫶

——————————————————————————

The soft glow of Christmas lights twinkled delicately throughout the living room, casting a gentle warmth that filled the air with festive cheer. However, inside the cozy space, things felt more somber. Almost Christmas, but not quite as magical as the O’Connell household had envisioned. The twins, Ava and Mia, were huddled together on the couch, clutching their blankets like they were the only comfort in the world. The past few days had been a blur of sickness as the little ones fought off a nasty bug, and they were weary, their usual laughter replaced with pitiful whimpers.

Billie Eilish, in her favorite oversized sweater, moved about the room like a guardian angel. Her green hair fell softly around her face as she filled a bowl with ice for the twins and prepared ginger ale—a simple remedy meant to ease their stomachs. Every movement was deliberate as she tried her best to create a soothing atmosphere amidst the discomfort.

“Hey, my pretty girls,” Billie cooed, crouching down beside the couch. She brushed a lock of hair behind Mia's ear and kissed her forehead, then did the same for Ava. “How are you feeling, babe?”

Ava looked up, her eyes glossy, her little face scrunched in discomfort. “I don’t feel good, Mommy,” she confessed, her voice thin and shaky.

Mia, cuddling closely to her twin, sniffled softly. “Me neither…” she murmured, her voice laced with fatigue.

Y/N, their sweet and caring partner, settled beside Billie, wrapping her arms around the girls. “It’s okay, my loves,” she whispered, her voice a soft balm against their distress. “We’re here for you. You’re safe.”

Billie joined in, curling around both daughters, creating a protective wall of warmth. “And Mommy’s got two special mamas taking care of you,” she added, her tone both comforting and playful. She brushed fingers along Ava’s arm, trying her best to soothe the little girl.

Ava leaned her head against Y/N’s shoulder, seeking a refuge that only she could provide. “Cuddle…” she murmured, her eyes fluttering against fatigue.

Y/N smiled softly, adjusting her position to accommodate both daughters. “Of course, sweetie,” she said, throwing a blanket over them as Billie nestled in on the other side, forming a snug little nest.

“Just breathe, alright? And if you need to throw up—or if you need anything at all—just let us know,” Billie reassured them, her eyes filled with an unwavering tenderness that Y/N had fallen in love with since the day they met.

Just then, Mia looked up at Billie with her big, watery eyes. “Can you sing to us, Mommy?” she whimpered.

Together, Y/N and Billie exchanged a knowing glance; something about that request felt like a lifeline in the clouds of sickness.

“Of course, little one,” Billie murmured, and as she started to hum a gentle, slow melody—one of their favorites from years past—the atmosphere shifted. Y/N held the girls tightly, her heart swelling with love as Billie’s soft, silky voice filled the room. It was a lullaby infused with maternal love that echoed through the confines of their home, wrapping around them like the warmest blanket.

As Ava and Mia listened, their eyelids began to droop, their little bodies relaxing against their mothers. Billie leaned in closer to Y/N, and in that moment, as the twins fell asleep in their embrace, the chaos of the world outside faded away.

Billie turned to Y/N, her beautiful eyes shining with love. “You’re my rock,” she whispered, gently brushing her fingers along Y/N’s cheek and leaning in ever so slightly to place a tender kiss on her lips. It was soft and full of appreciation, a momentary escape from the sickness that surrounded them—reminding Y/N of the warmth of their love amidst the challenges.

Y/N smiled against the kiss, pulling Billie closer as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “And you’re the best mother,” she replied, her voice laced with emotion.

Billie grinned, her heart swelling as she looked at their daughters, now peacefully sleeping between them. “This Christmas might not be what we planned, but as long as we’ve got each other, we’ll make it magical in our own way,” she said, her words dripping with optimism.

In that moment, cradled on the couch with their sweet girls by their side, Y/N and Billie felt the true meaning of family wrapping around them like the gentle embrace they shared. Sickness would pass, but the love they had—their bond—would endure, making every Christmas unforgettable, no matter the circumstances.

[zsakuva]

Hiya! Wishing you well during these colder seasons! Autumn festivities are on their way soon so what is something you're thankful for in your VA journey since these past few years of voicework, creativity & storytelling?

I think one thing I'm so incredibly thankful for is the amount of fellow voice actors that have worked with me and have helped bring my characters and stories to life.

I have met so many great people in this VA sphere, and we all have a similar goal of providing an immersive experience for our audiences. We do this out of passion and a need to share our stories with others, and it never gets old because we have a drive to create.

The VAs in this community are so talented, creative, and singular in their own ways. If my counting is correct, 29 voice actors have lent their skills and free time to my stories thus far, and that number will hopefully grow as I experiment and expand for future productions.

It is a very close-knit community, and I think it's amazing to be a part of something that is so collaborative in nature. It's because of this niche bubble that I can write scripts the way I do, knowing that VAs are down to accept roles and work with me. I have also lent my voice to other VAs' audios, and it's a wonderful learning experience. My abilities have been challenged in various ways, and each story/character is so different that the novelty of voice acting will likely never fade for me.

Without the other VAs, I wouldn't be able to write the way I do, experiment with storytelling, challenge myself with audio engineering, and I will never be able to thank them enough.

[queenvidal]

Chapter 1: Flattering Of The Heart

Chapter Summary: In the Red Keep, dignitaries prepare for a big Tournament and the royal family's impending birth. The princess greets the guests dutifully, unaware of a secret guest, who is waiting for her.

Wordcount: 2056

The Red Keep is buzzing with noise. More and more lords, noblemen and other dignitaries arrive in King's Landing, preparing for the fast approaching festivals. A big tournament will be held and the King called all important houses of the realm to join the royal family in celebration of the impending birth of the son. Maids and servants bustle along the hallways, taking care of everyone's needs.

You ascend the stairs of the castle, the long skirts of your dress held in your hand, preventing you from tripping over them at your fast pace. The urgency to finally remove yourself from the chaos after the long day quickens your steps. Once at your destination, you let the dress fall and catch your breath, before opening the big wooden door.

“Mother,” you announce your presence with a bright smile, the tension off the day already easing.

Queen Aemma looks up from the book resting on her lap. Her tired eyes soften in an instant. “Y/N!” She calls you warmly. “Come, my dear. Come, sit with me.”

You’re already half across the room. With a soft smile, you carefully sink onto the plush lounger opposite her. Your eyes flicker for a brief moment to her rounded belly before swiftly focusing back on her face. With genuine concern, you ask, “How are you feeling, Mother?”

The queen exhales deeply, closing the book before shifting to get a bit more comptable. “I’ll manage, dear.” Her faint smile can’t hide the exhaustion in her voice. “But I cannot lie, I’m looking forward to the end of this most unpleasant pregnancy.” 

Your brows knit with sympathy. It has been her most difficult pregnancy by far. Everyday has been a battle with overwhelming sickness and the relentless fatigue bound her to her bed more times than not, her usual vitality sapped. You’ve tried to help where you could, though your mother’s stubborn independence often made it challenging.

“How are our guests, dear?” she asks, shifting in her chair again for comfort. “Have you greeted them?”

Now it’s your time to sigh. “Yes, mother.” Hosting guests from so many noble houses had been exhausting. The endless pleasantries had been draining. “My cheeks still ache from all the forced smiles.” This elicits a faint chuckle from the Queen. You glance at your hands, hesitantly admitting, “I wish Father had let go of the idea of the tourney.”

Aemma raises an eyebrow at that. With a teasing grin tugging at her lips, she says, “You sound like you’ve been sentenced to some dreadful punishment. This tourney is in celebration of your brother, dear. Surely you don’t begrudge him that?”

Your head snaps up at the accusation. “Mother, no. Of course not.” Leaning forward, you take her hand in yours. “I am worried, mother. My little brother has yet to be born, and with all the stress surrounding the pregnancy and the preparation for the tournament... I can't help but to worry for him but especially for you.” 

“I’m lucky to have such a devoted daughter,” she smiles warmly at you before brushing her knuckles against your cheek. Her hand moves to a loose strand of your hair hanging in front of your face, slowly her eyes wander to your hair. “Your braids are coming loose.”

“It’s been a long day,” you admit, shifting slightly to give her better access. The Queen changes sets, coming to sit next to you. She undoes one of the braids, her fingers carefully running through your hair. A soft sight escapes you. “The sons of Lord Baratheon were relentless.” You let her know, looking at your hands. “They spent the morning showering me with compliments and little gifts. If I’d taken a drink for every time one of them called me beautiful, I’d have passed out before noon.”

Aemma chuckles softly, shaking her head. Her fingers weave your hair with care when she asks. “Ah, to be admired by young men. Surly it’s been flattering, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose.” You shrug nonchalantly. “But their compliments felt hollow, forced. I’d prefer sincerity.”

Aemmas hands pause as she is leaning slightly to the side to see your face. “But Y/N, what makes you say that? You are beautiful.” 

You turn your head around, looking over your shoulder to meet her eyes. With a slight hint of suspicion in your voice, you tell her. “Even so. It felt like they were saying it not because they meant it, but because they had to.”

Aemma’s eyes travel through the chambers, looking at the servants walking through the room. Her attention turns back to you before speaking to you in your ancestors' tongue. “You are a smart girl, Y/N. You knew this tournament was not just for your brother.”

The weight of her words makes your shoulders sag slightly. Unable to hide the disappointment in your eyes, you look back at your hands again. “I assumed as much, but I was still hoping.”

Aemma continues with the braid, her voice soft as she says, “You’re of age, dear. In only a few moons, we will be celebrating your twentieth name day.” Your eyes fall to the ground while you force yourself to stay quiet. “Your father and I invited houses from all the Seven Kingdoms. We want your husband to be someone of your own choosing.”

A bitter snort escapes you. “So I get to pick my own cage?”

Aemma sighs deeply, her hands stilling again. When you turn to meet her gaze again, your heart clenches at the hurt you find in her eyes. “Mother, I’m sorry. I… I just wish you’d give me more time.”

Aemma ties off the braid, her fingers lingering briefly before laying it over your shoulder. “We’ve given you time, Y/N.” Her voice is gentle, almost wistful. “Nine years more than your father and I ever had.”

“I know, Mother,” You reach for her hand, holding it gently in yours. “And I’ll always be grateful for every single one of those years.”

Your mother caresses your hand, not meeting your eyes. Slowly, her knitted brows are easing as a soft grin. “Am I right to assume you haven’t greeted all of our guests yet?”

You blink at her, your brow furrowing in confusion as you quickly run through the names and houses in your head. “No, Mother. I don’t think I’ve missed anyone.”

“Oh, my dear, you most certainly have. You’d be in much higher spirits if you hadn’t.” She huffs a small laugh, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Would you do me a favor, my sweet?” 

You nod, waiting expectantly. “Of course, Mother.”

“The dragons seem rather restless today,” she says, her grin widening. “Why don’t you visit the dragonpit?”

“The dragonpit?” you repeat, puzzled. “What kind of guest would—”

But your words trail off as realization dawns.

Your mother chuckles, clearly delighted by your reaction. She gives your arm a playful tap. “Go, dear. Don’t keep him waiting.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The afternoon sun is slowly dipping behind the horizon, painting the sky bright red and orange when you are descending the Red Keeps halls. Your heart races as you hurry through the corridors. It’s been months since your uncle left for the Vale and thought he'd be gone for even longer.

Hiking up your skirts, you make your way towards the dragonpit. The guards recognize you as once and step aside, letting you through without questioning. Your heart takes on speed as you near the pit. Your ears catch Caraxes before your eyes do.

There he is.

“Daemon!” You call out, your voice ringing with joy. Ignoring all etiquette, you break into a run.

The rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen stood near his beast. His Blood Wyrm is roaring loudly, as if announcing the prince's return to the court. Daemon's hand glides along the dragon's scales, calming it. But his attention shifted immediately when he noticed someone approaching him.

When his eyes find you, his expression softens in a way reserved for no one else. With a wide grin on his face, your uncle lets go of his dragon. At once he closes the remaining distance between you. “There’s my princess.” His voice carries across the courtyard. He opens his arms just in time to catch you as you flung yourself into him.

His arms wrap tightly around you, lifting you from the ground as he’s spinning you in a wide circle. Your laughter fills the air as you cling to him. When he finally sets you down again, his hands linger on your waist. His purple eyes drink you in as if he’d spent a lifetime away.

“How is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom feeling today?” The prince asks in a playful voice.

The warmth on your cheeks spreads, your heart’s skipping a beat at the way he looks at you. With mischief in your eyes, you tell him. “Mother is doing better these days.”

Daemon arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into an amused smirk. “And what about the most beautiful princess?”

While smiling from ear to ear, you say. “You should ask that Rhaenyra.”

Daemon’s laughs loudly at your games. The sound only intensifies the fluttering in your stomach. “Well done, Y/N.” His thumbs rub small circles on your waist. “And what about you?” 

Finally you answer his question. Still holding his arms lightly, you smile softly at him. “I’m well, Uncle. Better now that you’re here.”

His expression on his face falters momentarily, the playful edge melting into something deeper. He lifts a hand to brush a strand of your hair back, his touch lingering just a moment too long. “Good,” he murmurs. “I’d hate to think I’d left you in misery for too long.”

“Oh, you overestimate your importance,” you tease, your voice carrying humor and no bite.

Daemon let out a deep chuckle, “Do I?” He asked you with amusement in his voice. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitches slightly at the intensity of his gaze. Eventually releasing his arms, you clasp your hands in front of you and step back, giving yourself the space to breathe. “And what about you? How was your journey?”

Daemon shrugged his shoulders, his softened demeanor changing back into his usual confident charm. “Tedious. Dull. But all worth it to see you again.”

You roll your eyes at him, though you can't suppress the need to tease. “You’re hopeless."

“Hopelessly devoted, perhaps,” Daemon shots back, the corner of his mouth moving upward. “How was the court life during my absence?”

“Dreadful,” you admit truthfully. “If not for Lady Rhaenys Velaryons visits every now and then, I might have flung myself off the Keep.” Your eyes drift to Caraxes, the beast's eyes are also on you. His head moves closer, his snout almost nudging your arm. You accept the invitation to pet him. A low growl of approval rumbles through the air. 

“Without you stirring up chaos, it’s all pretense and pleasantries.” You recall, "The same empty conversations, the same dull faces. No scandals, no rumors, no uproar. Just endless monotony.” 

Daemon huffs a laugh. “So you missed me for keeping the court on their toes?” He holds his hand to his cest in feigning offense. “Not for my charm or my wits?” 

“Oh, of course, Uncle,” you tease him with your voice in a soft mocking tone, “The most charming prince there ever was.”

“You wounded me, dear niece,” he exclaims dramatically. “But I’ll take the compliment, even if it’s buried under mockery.” 

You two look at each other for a quiet moment. His eyes carry a softness you barely recognize. A small smile grows on your lips, you’ve truly missed him. Daemon takes a step towards you, offering you his arm and you take it without hesitation. “Come, walk with me to the Keep, princess.”

As the two of you move towards the gates of the dragonpit, the stablehands approach Caraxes with caution. They share a knowing glance, not daring to speak, saying the obvious out loud. The bond between the Rogue Prince and his niece has always been close but for a long time now, the air around them seemed even more intimate.

The rumors the princess wished for will spread faster than she anticipated. 

[pigeonsage]

for the vrains colour pallete, #177 and blue angel? no worries if the request is too late, absolutely no pressure, have a lovely day :)

Tysm!!!

[juckalope]

Linktober Day 17 & 18 - Dragons x Shopkeeper 🏮

[lithth]

what’s crazy to me is the fact that kusuo and kuusukes family are aware that they have shitty relationship but don’t do anything abt it

[suguwu]

bridgerton au with diluc yes sure fine

but bridgerton au with kaeya...renowned but beloved rake who is—as you come to learn—a true romantic underneath it all...

[mobirights]

In The Limelight - wolfstar

A snippet from a wolfstar fic I'm working on based on my experience in the American high school thespian society (level: impossible. -1000 aura for long-lasting trauma). Theatre kids unite!!! There are so many terms in here that only a theatre kid would know, and I will define them when the fic is published, but right now... I'm lazy, just look them up lmao.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus hates One-Acts. 

Well—that’s not entirely true because he’s literally in Godric High's this year and it's always his favorite experience. He just hates watching them, especially at Districts. And he admits some of them are really good. He’ll never forget that production of Sorry, wrong number from Sophomore year. Literally on the edge of his seat that entire show. 

One-Acts in general, however…

He’s fallen asleep during at least 60% of the One-Acts he’s watched in his four years of high school. His final year is no different. That is why he has noise-cancelling earbuds, James’ shoulder, and his comfiest pair of vans. 

“One Act nap?” Lily asks from his other side just as he lays his head on James. 

Remus looks forward as the EmCee walks on stage in a bright green hat and announces the third One Act performance of the day (first for Remus and everyone at Godric because they arrived late).

“Good morning, District Six! Our next performance is a production of Love’s Labour’s Lost by William Shakespeare.”

He rolls his eyes and turns to Lily, sighing. “One Act nap.”

The thing is, Remus loves Shakespeare as much as the next drama nerd. His first show at Godric was a production of As You Like It and it’s probably in his top five experiences at this God-forsaken school. But for a One Act? Come on. There have been some good ones, but more often than not, schools don’t know how to properly cut shows to forty minutes without losing a lot of integral plots and meaning that Shakespeare intended. He still shivers remembering that one production of Taming of the Shrew in Sophomore year. 

“Stage Managers, are you ready?” The EmCee calls back to the curtain, met with two voices shouting back “Yes!”

“Troupe 228, your time starts now.”

The house lights dim. Just before everyone goes quiet, Remus manages to whisper, “Which school is this?” to James on his left who smiles brightly and mouths Salazar as the troupe’s crew starts to set up their stage in the semi-dark. 

Remus huffs and turns his music high enough to drown out the noise, but low enough to go unheard in the silence of the PAC. 

Salazar Northern Preparatory Academy. SNPA for short. Godric’s rivals, naturally. Remus tries not to be concerned with school rivalries and petty feuds, but everything about SNPA just grinds his gears. Technically, their real rival is Rowena High School because it was built after Godric in the 80's and stole half their student body because of zoning changes. Salazar, though? Their rivalry and hatred for each other dates back to before the schools were even built.

But Remus would rather not think about that. He just wants to take his nap and ignore SNPA like he does every year, James’ alleged long-lost friend from there be damned. 

He’s about to close his eyes when the stage lights turn and a group of girls and boys walk on stage in the most ridiculously modern teenage outfits. He assumes one of them is the Princess of France, and the others her attending Ladies and Lords.

Huh. Interesting way to cut the show, starting with this scene. 

The boy playing Boyet starts the opening monologue, and Remus is surprisingly entranced, his head half-way to laying on James’ shoulder. As the scene goes on, he somehow gets engrossed in the story. He doesn’t remember when he turned off his air pods, but the voices on stage are now clear and not muffled. He finds himself genuinely enjoying the show. The girl who plays the Princess's comedic timing could rival James—and he will never know he said that because as much as he loves his friend, Remus will not be fueling James’ football-field-sized ego. 

James wraps his around him and Remus leans into the touch. He might just watch this all the way through.

Then—and this will be documented as the moment Remus lost all sense and reason—the King and his Lords walk on. If it wasn’t obvious before, this is a very modern rendition. From the way James and Lily literally cover their mouths, he’s sure the modern costumes for the King and Co. are hilarious, but Remus is only focused on one thing.

Person.

Front and center is the most beautiful man Remus has ever seen in his life. Maybe he’s exaggerating because a younger version of him would have said the same thing about James (don’t judge him, he was repressed and the boy was nice to him), but this is different. 

“Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.”

Holy shit. Yeah. Way different. 

The beautiful man in question has shoulder-length jet-black hair that looks softer than silk. His skin is like a porcelain doll’s, almost eery in its pale complexion, but so enticing. The only thing Remus can imagine is how bright his face must flush in the sun. Not only that, but this man has the voice of an angel—No, not an angel. A devil. It’s raspy and soft all at the same time. Smooth vibrato that steals all the attention on stage. The voice of a true singer, no doubt. 

As beauty in human form continues to talk, Remus feels lost. He’s seen and read this play more times than he can count, but with a voice like that, he can’t even follow the story anymore. All he hears is the honey-sweet voice of sin incarnate.

Yeah, he’s fucked.

[lizhi-studiies]

10/03/2023 - tuesday

079/200 days of productivity

spent today holed up in a starbucks with a friend of mine. luckily i'm on break this week, so i'm able to rest up with plenty of time to knock out the work that i have <3 a much-needed rest! the next print cycle starts next week, so i'm also preparing story ideas and page design concepts in advance. also, i can't believe i forgot to say this earlier, but 中秋节快乐，大家！！

[born-to-lose]

I <3 tote bags. What would I be without them

[turn-to-me]

Let's celebrate Luca! Happening today Jan 19 at the Opening Night Sundance film fest! 🖤🥳🏆🎥 🎬 🎞 ✍

[amelikos]

Friede's dynamics with Zeiyu reminds me a bit of some elements in Friede and Amethio's rivalry.

[wicked-remarks]

WICKED'S SUMMER FESTIVAL

A writing event based on summer as its main theme!

Hello! I’m hosting a little writing event to bring some inspiration to those who may want to write something new!

Here's a little FAQ if you aren't familiar with writing events (or at least mine!):

What’s it about?

For a lot of people, summer is almost there! Try to write something with what can be considered a "summer topic." EX.: the beach, a vacation, sundresses, swimsuits, a date in warm and sunny weather and so on.

Are AUs allowed?

Yes! Though of course they aren’t mandatory. Mob AU, Modern AU, Royal AU… whatever fits best the narrative you’re looking to do! Here are a couple I’m able to think of right now:

Coffee shop AU

Flower/tattoo shop AU

College AU

Historical AU

Fairy tale AU

Roommates AU

Dystopian AU

Modern AU

Some more questions you may have…

“Event time?”

From June 1st to August 31st! It’s summer where I live during that time and it made me want to organise a fun challenge for fic writers all around to participate in.

“Can I write about any fandom?”

Of course! I am tagging some fandoms though it is obviously not limited to only these!

“One shot or multiple parts?”

That is up to you and where your imagination takes you! I think the event time is long enough to do multiple parts should you want, but a one shot is already wonderful! You can even do multiple one shots if a couple of subjects interest you!

“SFW or NSFW?”

Both can be done! though not mandatory. You can write the fluffiest fluff, the smuttiest smut, or both at once! Even angst if you feel inspired!

Here’s a list of tropes, situations and even quotes that may inspire you along with the summer theme!

Tropes:

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

mutual pining

rivals

Arranged marriage

crossover

fake relationship

Hanahaki disease

Sex pollen

Fake dating

Situations:

“there is only one bed and neither wants to let the other sleep on the ground”

“now is clearly not the right time to express their feelings but they both feel like they’ll never do it otherwise”

“saw the other in a swimsuit/specific outfit they never wore before and they are currently slowly losing it”

“person A invited B to a festival, fair, crowded event and using it as an excuse to hold their hands as to not lose them in the crowd”

“person B asks to go swimsuit shopping to A and A is feeling blood rush somewhere from person B modeling swimsuits to them”

“There’s a firework show going on but person A is looking a person B instead”

Quotes:

“Gimme a sec I’m not drunk enough to listen to this”

“Take another step, and I can’t be held responsible for my actions”

“After all this do you really think I don’t love you?”

“Look at how far I would go in fear of losing you”

“I thought I lost you”

“Let me show you how much I love you”

“I wasn’t sure which flowers you liked so I got one of everything they had”

“Is there a special reason as to why you’re wearing my shirt?”

“I have a name, and it’s not sweetheart”

“I’ll do it. If you do something for me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep”

“I can’t help it, you’re fun to mess with.”

“If I could, I’d kiss away all your scars”

“prove it.”

“Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?”

“Show me how much you missed me.”

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?”

“Shall we put that mouth to better use?” I hope this brings you some inspiration! you can use #Wicked's summer festival 2023 and I shall reblog (or at least try to) your fics here!

Taglist: @moonyslove78 @rae-gar-targaryen @papaya-047 @drew-garfi @fallensilencefics @petcr3 @squiddtheekidd @albatrossandivys @mortwig @withahappyrefrain @lilacvine

[meat-fr]

the new gene is not at all what i was expecting, but i like it. and it gives me some ideas for a new breed pair :3c