#they reblog other artists too that you can go check out

[backofthebookshelf]

It's not a controversial take necessarily -- it's just that the particular environment of AO3, where you can see how many times your fic was loaded in a browser window and where the little heart button has a different meaning than it does on every other social media site, is uniquely bad for the human brain.

For the VAST majority of history, both the history of making art generally and the history of writing fanfiction in particular, you did not get to know how many people gave your work a cursory once-over, or how many people checked your book out from the library and never read it, or how many people overheard a line of poetry and thought "huh, neat" and never did anything else. These interactions were, as they should be, completely anonymous and uncountable. Even in the pre-AO3 days of fanfiction, there was an understanding that page hit counters were kind of crap (for one thing, they would count you every time you loaded the page, and you had to load the page to check the counter, so that was incentive not to look at it that much).

Even in other artistic contexts where you do now have page hit counters on everything, they're contextualized through marketing research, not consumed as a raw value. Marketing talks about conversion rate, which is the % of people who saw something who then went on to do the thing you wanted them to do - for a business that's probably buy the thing, for a nonprofit it might be donate or sign up for a volunteer session, for a fanfiction writer it's leave a comment. At work I work with multiple major companies you have definitely heard of who spend half a million dollars and 1-3 full time employees every year on something that increases their conversion rate by 1-2%. They do this because the conversion rate on our emails is 5%, which is INSANELY high.

And yes, leaving a comment doesn't cost money, but it does cost time and energy. Writers overestimate how easy it is for people to write comments--my coworkers are out here using chatgpt to write boilerplate work emails, I can't imagine ANY of them ever leaving a comment on a work of art they enjoyed. Verbally, yes--and "in a friend discord is much closer to verbally than in a comment form--but in writing? Absolutely not.

As for kudos, I can't help but think that the "likes don't do anything, you have to reblog" culture of social media like twitter and tumblr affects that too (and yes, by the latter days of twitter I was seeing people saying that on there, because the algorithm was so broken). Kudos is essentially a like button, and like the like button on twitter that used to be a favorite button before they changed it and some people never stopped treating it like one, it has meanings for people you'll never understand. "It's just a click!" It is a symbol with vague connotations but no specific universally agreed upon meaning; it tells you how many people clicked on that button, and that's all.

So yes, actually, I guess I am saying that as a writer, you are supposed to assume that many more people liked your fic than you will ever hear from or even know about. And that's a good thing! You have the chance to touch someone's life even though they have no idea who you are and don't think of you as a person so much as a semi-mythical figure called "the author". And that's part of the magic, to me, of creating things. You pour yourself into a thing and then you set it loose into the world and you hope it means to someone else as much as it meant to you. Sometimes, very rarely, someone will tell you so, and that's amazing, I'm not going to pretend it's not, but you have to have enough faith in yourself to believe it happens whether you hear about it or not.

I really don't understand how "without getting kudos or comments a fanfiction author is going to assume that people who clicked their fic didn't like it" became a controversial take.

I don't know why some people think an author should imagine, or guess that people who click their fic enjoyed it it when nobody is telling them that.

If you're re-reading a fic constantly, or leaving it up in your tab so that it re-loads every day for a hundred days the author is not going to know that unless you tell them. They'd love to hear it. It would make their day.

And if you don't tell them you liked their fic, there's no reason for them to assume you did.

[corrodedcoffinfest]

Corroded Coffin Fest: May Mayhem Bingo

Come experience the mayhem. The reverse tropes. The other side of the coin. The no good, very bad days. The headaches in the making. The absurd.

Complete any vertical, horizontal or diagonal line of 5 prompts for a bingo. Complete all 25 for a blackout. Prompts cannot be combined on the card. You can combine them with prompts from other blog events, that's totally fine! But to get a bingo for this event here, you'll need to complete prompts separately.

All entries must be posted between May 1st-31st, 2025 — in full. You can connect them in a universe, if you wish, but it all needs to be posted by the end of May.

(I know we have other events that will happen before this one, but with so many possible prompts, I wanted to get this one out early, so everyone that wants to take a crack at it would have plenty of time to work. Plus, the prompts for our 2nd Annual Corroded Coffin Fest main event that takes place in July will drop next month! I didn't want to hit you with two large sets of prompts at once.)

You can interpret the prompts any way you'd like, as long as you've focused on one or more members of Corroded Coffin of your choosing. Just read the guidelines below and have fun!

GUIDELINES:

Please tag us here at @corrodedcoffinfest when you post your entries so we can reblog them!

The word count guidelines for this challenge are fics with 300+ words.

You'll get a comment from this blog with a "❌" when it's been checked and added to the queue.

Submissions can be connected to other prompts from the pop-up, but they should still be able to stand alone.

Feel free to use the ao3 collection after you've been reblogged here!

Anyone that completes at least (1) bingo will get their own masterlist post w/completed card. You may also do individual prompts, without working towards a bingo, if desired. Those entries will be included in the full event masterlist, as always!

All submissions should include any pairings featured, a rating and any content warnings (CW) or tags that you think are appropriate. All explicit material needs be under a cut. All ships are welcome, as long as they include at least one member of Corroded Coffin: Eddie, Jeff, Gareth & Freak. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well, just to keep things straightforward. A sample could look something like this:

Prompt: Idiot Ball | Word Count: 1315 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Relationships: None | CW: None | Tags: Misunderstanding, We Could Solve This If We'd Just Talk

For the artists! Art is definitely welcome! Any entries for the prompts must be Corroded Coffin focused, using any combination of the guys, together or solo. Of course, other characters can be included, too! But you need to have at least one of the CC band members in it for it to count for this pop-up event. Thank you!

Please submit your entries between 12:00 AM EST on May 1st and 11:59 PM EST on May 31st.

SPREADSHEET:

I've made a spreadsheet to help keep track of the prompts and your progress towards any bingo(s) you might want to complete. If you'd like to use it, just go to File>Make a Copy and you'll get a version you can edit in your own Google Sheets.

I also put a little blurb about each prompt, and if there's a TV trope page or something similar, I've linked to that, in case you need jumping off points. But it's totally up to you how you'd like to interpret them!

If you keep track of which prompts you've completed by ticking the Finished? box on the "CCF" sheet, it will populate into the next "My Bingo Progress" sheet, as seen here:

And you'll see what percentage you've currently finished of each possible bingo and/or blackout. (Note: Don't change the sheet names or you'll break all the formulas that make it work!)

Enjoy the mayhem! 💥

[boredzillablog]

If you guys want to see more Hinrigh, Lynch and Zakuro content I suggest going to the Japanese Twitter! There are lots of nice fanart

[2neaky]

🎤 Thank U 4 The Dono! 💿 P.2

12k words! 𝑹𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝑶𝒏𝒚! ♡ 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝑶𝑪! | 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 -> 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: size k*nk, or*al (m recieving), p in v s*x (use of a condom), tricking/“paying for p*ssy,” power-imbalance (financial), dr*g use (w*ed), heavy drinking, drunk s*x, morally grey ethics concerning modern-day s*x work and “buying” one’s consent, basically pr*stitution, objectification, egotistical Onyankopon, body mods (n*pple piercings), specific descriptions of body types, use of n-word (characters & writer are Black), roughly edited

Part 1

Finally, the last part! Warning, this fic isn’t the most ethically sound and I, as the writer, can recognize that. I don’t necessarily condone all concepts portrayed in this fic, but it’s just for the plot. Sometimes, I like morally grey shit. If you unable to separate this fictional story from real life, I advise against reading this. Enjoy & reblog! <3

“Right this way! Please follow the signs!”

Standing in a dimly lit corridor, the attendant is dressed in a prim suit as they shout directions to the attendees. 

Echoes of sound check bounce off of the walls of the large stadium. At times, there are minutes of silence before they’re interjected by brief clips of music or even someone speaking into the mic.

This place is massive, built to house thousands of screaming fans at a time.

All of it piques Bliss’s interest as she’s guided along by security. Some part of her wishes she could stay and watch the onstage preparation up close.

However, she forgets about all of that as she travels up a steep flight of stairs, away from the stadium’s general seating. 

Tiny lights, embedded along the sides of each step, light the way through the dark staircase. Kitten heels click softly as she slowly climbs, in line behind another guest. She neglects to hold the railing, preferring instead to latch onto her phone. 

Her other hand grips the wooden baton handles of her newest purchase: a Goyard Saïgon mini bag. 

Truthfully, it was an impulsive purchase made with just a fraction of the money she received from her Halloween Stream—and, speaking of, her bank account has never been healthier. 

That stream has upped the quality of her life, undoubtedly. Not that she wasn’t living comfortably before, but her world has been opened to new experiences. 

For instance, premium seating at a concert of her favorite artist. She’s in a space where she can afford this experience probably three times over. Yet, she didn’t even have to spend a dime to get it.

She can hardly contain a tiny grin with the flash of a memory—a conversation between her and Onyankopon over messages. Just a casual discussion, going in-depth about this entire arrangement.

Anyway, as the little quirk disappears from her face, a burst of light washes over her. She’s finally reached the top of that long staircase. Just a few feet away is the enclosed balcony, cased off behind glass so clean that she’s sure she would’ve walked right into it.

A “Luxury Box” is what they called it—an exclusive lounge, secluded to a balcony room above the stage. There’s a different attendant at its door, greeting each guest as they enter. 

“Good evening, enjoy the show,” the young woman greets with a pleasant smile and gentle nod.

Bliss can’t help but to show teeth, the apples of her cheeks even aching. “Hi, thank you.”

As she spills into the room with the other guests, her eyes are everywhere. The Luxury Box is spacious, considering that there are about thirty people here.

Her first observation is that this place is comfortable. Cushioned chairs positioned before a large glass—it’s the perfect seating arrangement with an excellent view of the stage from its left. 

The floor below the seats is glass, too. The sight gives way to a sea of empty chairs, hundreds of feet below. Soon, they’ll be filled with excited fans.

To the right of the viewing area is the bar, decked out in expensive, unopened bottles. There’s already a bartender behind the counter, wiping down the dark marble. 

And by the looks of it, they’re fully stocked: wine, champagne, beer, juice, water—anything a patron could desire. 

That’ll be the first spot she hits up.

On the room’s opposite side is an array of food spread out amongst a long, cloth-covered table. From hors d'oeuvres to dessert, they have everything. Behind the table, caterers attend to the food, ensuring its presentation is on point.

She needs no more convincing. Whipping out her phone, Bliss is quick to record the sights surrounding her. She slowly pans the camera, trying to catch everything in the video.

She hadn’t known what to expect before coming, however, Bliss had to give herself props. She managed to dress perfectly for the occasion, blending seamlessly with the lounge’s modern chic decor.

Jean Paul Gaultier hugs her body tonight as a black maxi dress with small grey dots that outline the feminine shape. The dramatic curves and slopes of her body stretch it out in a way that elevates the dress. 

No doubt, it’s a wonderful look. However, it’s also a rather sheer piece, as its material is comprised of a thin, but tiny netting. Several times throughout her journey here, she’s had to pull her bundles to the front, having them fall over her chest.

It’s her fault she hadn’t tried on the dress before packing it, she realizes. If she had, she would’ve known to buy some pasties beforehand.

Peering around the room one more time, Bliss seems to recognize a few faces—well known influencers, and even a couple of celebrities.

Be calm, she reminds herself. She’s blended in so far. 

A nervous tick, she glances at the time on her phone. She exhales with the realization that it’s only about an hour and a half more before the show is scheduled to start.

She’s closer to seeing Onyankopon live. Closer to meeting him in person for the first time. The thought has her queasy and excited all at once. She presses a manicured hand to her stomach.

God, she wishes she knew someone here, just so that they may distract her from the “what-if’s” and “maybe’s” running through her mind.

But, really? Who needs friends when there’s a bar just a few feet away? 

Especially when there’s a cute ass nigga behind it?

She just found her newest distraction to take the edge off of things.

•

The stadium’s lights have lowered to pitch-black, darkness, allowing the stage’s to shine. Shades of purple bleeding into white beam brightly. 

The DJ, propped farther back on the large stage, plays tracks that only hype up the audience.

Below the balcony, through the glass flooring, Bliss watches fans flood the stadium. They almost perfectly resemble waves of the sea. Even their cheers can be heard from up here.

As it gets closer to that time, they grow louder. They almost compete with the music.

Nursing her second drink of the night (if she doesn’t count the shot she has in between this and her first), Bliss sits plum in her seat. There’s a pleasant buzz running throughout her, and obviously it’s the liquor.

Just a little bit tipsy, more and more things seem to catch her attention as her body and mind ease up. So many distractions around her, she almost didn’t realize that someone’s come onstage if it weren’t for the screams of the fans beneath them: the show’s opener—Connie Springer.

She makes a quiet gasp around her straw, eyes wide as she leans forward in her chair. 

Bliss has a couple of his songs in her rap playlist. He’s not nearly played as much as Onyankopon is in her household. Still though, the support is there.

She actually found Connie through him. Seeing as they’re closely affiliated and under the same label, his music was recommended after Ony’s. 

Even in a couple of Ony’s Instagram posts, she can spot the other man in the background. She must admit, the rapper keeps a couple of fine ass niggas around him—hence why she follows Connie, too. 

She only hopes Ony doesn’t look too deeply into that.

But, coming back to reality, Bliss can see why Ony had picked the man to be his opener. 

He’s getting the crowd hype, and they’re rapping the lyrics right along with him. By the time his set ends—an unforgettable forty minutes—the audience is even livelier than before.

It’s astounding, really. She didn’t think they could get any louder. And the energy is coming off of the crowd in waves. She can’t be the only one in the lounge affected by it, her skin covered in goosebumps.

“I appreciate y’all tonight!”

The crowd cheers after Connie. His image is blown up on the Jumbotrons, giving every onlooker a view of his gemmed smile.

“I know y’all loud for me, but I’ma need y’all to be even louder for my brother, Onyankopon!”

Deafening shrieks fill the stadium. And Bliss is sure that if she were on the ground, her eardrums would’ve been ruptured.

Even the other guests in the lounge cheer loudly. And she’s thankful, knowing that she won’t have to hide her excitement when the time comes.

As Connie leaves the stage, the crowd chants: “Ony! Ony! Ony!”

With the stage now empty, its lights dim and the music almost completely fades. For a moment, everything seems to still.

The fans grow quieter—even if it’s just by a fraction. But, it’s safe to say that everyone in the stadium is watching the stage closely with bated breath. Waiting for something—anything—to happen.

Then, music strikes with volume that reignites the crowd. 

Almost everyone around her shows their enthusiasm, tempting her to do the same. So, Bliss cups a hand near her mouth, letting out a resounding “wooh” from her seat. 

“ATL, you ready?”

The voice, deep and amplified by the mic, sends a chill through her. For about ten seconds, the music is completely drowned out by the fans’ screams.

Her eyes scour the stage, not finding a single soul on it. It’s still dark, too.

Then, there’s another sound: a low chuckle. 

Her stomach drops. She never thought she’d be so attracted to the sound of someone’s laughter. She’s sure that there are at least a thousand other fans that are sharing the very same experience. She can’t be the only one.

“Nah, I’on think y’all heard me—“

Purple streaks of light shoot down onto the stage. Flames, rigged at the perimeters of the platform, burst out as the man of the hour runs out onto the stage. 

Any music is drowned out by the fans.

The stage’s backdrop illuminates the entire platform as a spinning graphic of the letter “O,” wrapped in barbed wire, displays on the screen.

“Y’all niggas ready?” 

She finally sees him as his image is blown up on the Jumbotrons. It’s not the clearest resolution, but she can tell just how fine he is.

Mic held to his lips, the lower half of his face is hidden. A baggy, black zip up covers his upper half. He’s even got his hoodie up, sadly, obscuring the rest of his face. 

But, as she stares at his image, she notices the flashes of light catching on the cloth. Squinting just a little, she catches sight of the tiny crystals dotting the dark fabric.

As Onyankopon moves about, he glitters underneath the stage lights. Tiny, rain-bowed streaks of light are caught by the cameras, projecting his image.

But that isn’t the only thing on him that shines. Coming around his neck and resting on his chest, is a tangle of thick, heavy looking chains.

His microphone picks up every clank they make. They don’t even need light to shine, his diamonds still dance in the dark. It’s almost blinding.

Large, baggy black cargoes cover his strong legs. However, it’s only the base for the shiny, silver and purple, jeweled buckles strapped all down the length of the fabric.

“Y’all turnt up in here, tonight!”

There’s a slight breathlessness to his voice, and it makes her body clench. If she could bottle up the sound and keep it to herself, she would.

Or is that the liquor talking?

As Onyankopon pulls the purple mic away from his face, a camera picks up on him. The closeup of his face is blown up all over the Jumbotrons.

As the crowd cries out for him, he shows them a perfect smile. His bottom row of teeth covered in VVS diamond lined, opal grillz. 

It’s almost too much, the sight threatening to turn Bliss into a puddle right in her seat.

He lifts the mic to his mouth again, just as laughter tumbles out past his lips. “Y’all right up there with Chicago! Think you could do better than ‘em tonight?”

Fans are going ballistic, jumping and cheering even louder. They begin to chant again, repeating his name over and over.

All of these people, screaming his name, are here to see him. She can’t fathom how he does it.

But watching him, seeing how his smile stretches wider and the apples of his cheeks swell, she sees that he’s in his element.

“Yeah … y’all niggas some real competition!”

More screams. She almost wishes she was amongst the crowd, free to go as crazy as the other fans.

“Do me a favor: keep this energy the whole night! Nothing less—only up from here!”

Those were his last words as the beat to one of his songs begins, and the stadium dissolves into madness. The heavy base punches through every body filling it. 

Bliss can feel it in her chest. Even the luxury box’s glass has the faintest tremor to it.

Ony runs down the middle of the stage, where it stretches out into the crowd. Mic to mouth, he’s on it, rapping over the track with passion.

A nasty mug contorts his face as he performs, clearly feeling the lyrics. And the fans are rapping right along with him. 

One in particular, a young, scrawny man with big glasses, is caught on camera. His body is pressed to the metal barrier, he’s leaning over, gazing up at the rapper as his mouth moves along to every word.

Stepping closer to the area, Ony points a gloved hand at the young fan, making sure everyone—even the cameras—are paying him close attention.

Bliss’s heart swells at the sight of the endearing moment.

Running back to the main stage’s middle, Ony jumps up and down with the song’s beat. The pyrotechnics go off once again as the song’s hook comes up.

The energy consuming this stadium is too powerful to ignore. Bliss loses herself to it. After the first two songs, she can’t even find it in herself to care how crazy she looks—losing herself to the energy of the performance.

Halfway through the show, Onyankopon loses his hoodie. 

She remembers it so clearly, when he had unzipped it. The dark fabric parted and gave way to shiny, deep brown abs, littered with tattoos of all sizes.

Her fingers itched to run down the rigid surface of abs. 

Free from the heavy material, his head is fully visible. His typical inky black waves are sheathed by an equally black, velvet durag. And she’s almost 100% sure that it’s real velvet—none of that suede shit.

What catches her eyes the most is his nickname, “Ony,” spelled with beaded gems in Old English font on the back of the fabric.

One of the cameras, currently projecting his image onto the Jumbotrons, shows the audience the glistening skin of his back as he walks back to the main stage. His tattoos only continue to bleed into the expanse of the dark skin. Strong muscles ripple beneath the smooth skin.

She pulls out her phone, recording yet another clip of the shirtless man as he performs on the stage below. Without a second thought, she posts it to her Instagram story.

He just looked too fucking good for her not to capture. Without a doubt, Onyankopon is putting on a show. 

Bliss can die happy right now…

Except, she can’t. 

Not when the starting melody of her favorite song, catches her ears. She gasps, freezing in her seat.

At the center of the stage, Ony’s pacing slows to a stop. He stares out at the jumping crowd, a smile slowly climbing onto his face. The crowd is in a frenzy.

“What y’all know ‘bout this one?”

They roar louder as he continues to search the stadium, not looking for anyone in particular. Not yet.

“Wasn’t even gon’ perform this one, I ain’t gon’ hold you,” he chuckles.

He begins to pace again, thinking with amusement of just how much shit he makes his DJ put up with—what with him prolonging this track just to speak to the fans.

Bringing the mic to his lips, Onyankopon finally looks up at the large luxury box to the left of the stage.

“But, I know you like it.” 

A camera catches a closeup of him just as he shoots a quick wink. It’s all over the Jumbotrons, and the crowd goes wild. 

As the song finally begins, Bliss’ body catches a chill. She has no choice but to get up for this one, it is her favorite song after all. 

It’s definitely a turn up song, and she does just that. Rapping along, she earns the attention of others around her. So entranced by the music, she doesn’t even realize how they begin to hype her up. And she doesn’t miss a word.

Without a thought, Bliss kicks off her short heels. Holding onto the back of her chair, she bends over and throws her ass in a circle. 

Hoots and hollers from a few of the women around her goad her on, she sticks her tongue out. One or two of them even give her a couple of taps.

There’s lights shining on her, and she’ll have to remember to ask them for the videos. The dress is doing absolutely nothing to constrict the way her body moves, despite how tight it is.

Standing up straight, she does a full body whine, mouthing her favorite part of the song. Without a doubt, this is a highlight of her concert experience.

Sadly, just as quickly as the song had started, it ends. But, Bliss is only smiling, laughing too hard with the other guests.

Now she can die happy.

•

Three hours of performing—it was a dream to witness. And to think, that after all of that, she’s going to meet the artist.

How this can possibly go, she’s can’t imagine. Well—realistically, it can go one of two ways. 

He flew her out for tonight’s show, put her up in one of the best hotels in the city, and even assigned a personal driver to her for the time being that she was here—a big bodied, black truck, of course.

So, there’s only one thing he wants. Bliss knew that coming into this. And she agreed, didn’t she?

The attendants assigned to this luxury box had made the announcement minutes ago to follow the signage for a swift exit, seeing as the show’s over.

Of course, there were a few stragglers—her included. Head buried in her phone, she swipes through the videos she was able to get from the other guests of her “mini performance.”

She’ll definitely have to post these later.

With a ring-dressed middle finger, she’s trimming one of the videos, far too focused to notice the two men approaching her.

“Ms. Bliss?”

Blinking, her head shoots up as her inky black inches fall over her face. She pushes the strands out of the way.

“Yes?”

“Onyankopon’s ready for you.”

Her face blanks as she looks back and forth between the two. Her tongue fumbles in her mouth. So, she remains wordless as she nods.

Coming to her feet, she pulls down her dress and smooths out any wrinkles. Swiping up her mini Saïgon, she follows after the men as they take her to the performer.

•

“Another city finished,” Connie smirks, dapping him up.

Slumped in a chair of his own, Ony laughs. “Yeah, and I’m ‘bout tired as Hell.”

Connie plops down on the futon pushed against the wall of Ony’s dressing room—just a few feet across from the man himself.

“You definitely gonna crash after this,” he laughs, pulling out one of his phones from his pants pocket.

“Nah,” Ony shakes his head. Licking his bottom lip, he tries to conceal a smile as Connie glances at him. “Actually … I got shit to do after.”

Raising a brow, Connie looks at him fully this time. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They both share a knowing look, which only makes this all the more funnier.

“How you meet her?”

Glancing away, Ony bats him off as he sucks his teeth. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Nah, it better not be ole’ girl—“

“Chill,” Ony quickly looks his way. “Told you I was done with that. This a new vibe. Trust.”

Connie looks him up and down, ultimately deciding to trust his friend. “Alright…”

“Yeah, and speaking of—you gotta get the fuck up outta here.”

Connie makes a face. The question “why” is on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall from his lips, when a knock sounds at the door.

“Shit,” Ony mumbles, slowly getting up on sore feet.

Connie chooses to laugh this time. “Guess that’s my cue to leave.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting the doorknob just before pulling it open.

“Ony,” Mitch, one of the security guards on his team greets.

“Wassup, man,” he nods.

Quietly, Mitch shifts to the side to allow him to see the short woman behind him: Bliss.

Ony’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. Like he’s just been served the tastiest looking platter in the world; The finest piece of steak from STK Steakhouse.

“Hey.” The corner of his lips upturn.

“Hi.” Bliss had seemed to breathe the word out.

Without thinking, Ony outstretches an arm to pull her in for a side hug. 

“‘Preciate it, y’all,” he says to the guards. 

The two men turn away, returning to their stations at the end of the hallway. 

Ony opens the door wider, allowing Bliss to slip past him and into the comfortably sized room. As she makes her way past him, he doesn’t stop his eyes from falling below her waist to check out her body.

Her ass moves like water in that dress. And the perfume wafting off of her, mingled with her body’s natural scent, is rich and warm. Luxurious, even. An expensive one for sure.

“Hey,” Bliss waves shyly, meeting Connie’s eyes.

The man with the bleached, shaved head makes a strong effort to keep eye contact. And if Onyankopon weren’t watching him closely from behind her, he would’ve broken it. If only to admire how her body stretches the fabric out—and how terribly it hides her nipples. 

“Wassup, how you doing?” Connie smiles kindly. Standing up, he pockets his phone while outstretching a hand to her.

Politely, Bliss gives him a gentle shake before letting her hand fall back to the wooden handle of her purse.

“Ony,” Connie moves over to the man, dapping him up.

“We talk soon,” he nods.

As soon as the door shuts, with Connie’s departure, it’s like all of the air in the room has been sucked out.

Slowly, Bliss turns to face him. He’s already staring her down.

“It’s good seeing you in person.”

His voice is low, but soft. 

Her body is covered in goosebumps within seconds. She gives a shaky smile, showing off that cute gap between her two front teeth.

“You, too,” she says.

“You nervous?” He smiles as he heads over to the room’s large vanity.

It allows her the space needed to breathe as she watches him retie the loosened strings of his durag.

“I am,” she giggles, wanting to cover her mouth. “The show was really good, though. I had fun.”

“I’m glad.” He turns back around, leaning against the vanity to stare at her. “Hope you appreciated the song.”

Her smile only grows. “I did, thank you. You don’t even know, I was dancing and everything.”

“Oh yeah?” He raises his brows, watching her beam.

“Yes, it’s my favorite!” She remembers telling him in their DMs that it was her favorite song of his.

However, that definitely isn’t how he learned that fact.

Almost bowing her head, Bliss looks up at him through her thick lash set. “Thank you for performing it.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He looks her up and down. 

He might be exhausted, but he can definitely squeeze out one more performance for the night. 

After all, his body is still running off of the adrenaline from the show.

“How was everything? The hotel good?”

She perks up at that. “Hm? Oh—yes!” She nods. 

He thinks it’s cute.

“The hotel is very nice, and thanks for the driver.”

“Anything to make you comfortable.” He licks his lips. His eyes flick down for half of a second, catching a peak of her pierced nipples through the dress.

Of course, she notices.

“I’ma ride with you back to the hotel, take a quick shower, then we out for dinner. That’s cool with you?”

Her matte lips roll into her mouth and she nods. It’s a weak attempt at hiding an excited smile. They discussed this before—spending the night out together. Yet, Bliss still finds herself unable to really believe it.

His well-groomed brows lift just an inch. “That’s not a answer.” 

She breaks into laughter, feeling silly. “Yes, Ony.”

“Aight. Lemme grab my shit and we could leave together.”

She nods, heading over to the vanity on her own accord as Ony moves about to gather his items. 

As he packs his black, Margiela backpack, she tweaks her appearance in the brightly lit mirror. Smoothing down flyaways, fixing her lip combo—she does it all.

Being the great multitasker he is, Onyakopon sneaks glances at her from behind.

This view is everything: The only thing “covering” her ass in that dress is a tiny, black G-string that disappears between the globes of her cheeks anyway. Her honey-brown skin is dimpled but mark-free. And her narrow waist tempts him to grab it from behind.

If tonight goes as planned, backshots are definitely going to be on the agenda. Now, he’ll eventually flip her over on her back, because that face and those titties are too pretty for that position alone. 

The mental imagine is enough to make his dick twitch. If he didn’t have any sense, he’d fuck her raw. Just to make her feel every inch and vein, and for him to feel the wet heat of her walls. 

But before he gets too carried away with his own thoughts, Onyankopon blinks them away. Slipping into his jacket, he throws his backpack over a shoulder. 

“Aight, let’s go.”

Nodding, Bliss returns to his side. Ony is quick to hold out a hand, which she takes.

“When we leave, it might be some fans and paps outside. I can’t control that, I’m sorry. But, I got my people with us, so you should be good.”

Bliss nods, only able to quietly take it all in. She’s never been in the spotlight before. She only hopes that they aren’t too crazy.

“Oh, wait—“ 

Quickly, she drops his hand to search through her purse. A couple of seconds later, she’s pulling out a pair of designer shades. They’re huge with blacked out lenses, perfect for hiding her face.

Ony laughs. “You got it.”

•

As they’re just a few feet from the exit, body guards at all of their sides, Bliss anticipates Ony dropping her hand, just to keep anymore rumors at bay. 

However, as they pass through the threshold of the stadium and the cool, outside air hits them, her hand is still heavy with his.

“Ony!”

“Onyankopon, look this way!”

“Who’s this that you brought out tonight?”

“Is that your girlfriend, Ony?”

Using her purse, Bliss blocks the other side of her face, hoping the cameras don’t catch anything. Her lips tremble as she tries to keep from laughing at the obscene and invasive questions.

Their driver plucks the back door of their car open—a Rolls Royce. Ony lets go of her hand to let her in first. 

Just as he climbs in, the driver shuts the door behind them. The second his security backs away from the car, paparazzi and a few fans close-in on the vehicle, trying to snap pictures through the tinted windows.

“Wow,” Bliss laughs, breathlessly. She pulls the large shades off of her face, allowing him to seeing her beautiful face.

“My bad ‘bout that. Should’ve prepared you more.”

“It was actually tamer than I thought,” she smiles.

“Shit, my bad. Ain’t know you had it like that.” 

She only laughs at his joke, and he can only think about how much he likes the sound.

As the driver pulls off, heading towards Onyankopon’s hotel, Bliss opens up her camera. She records a couple of clips here and there of herself in the car, careful to keep Ony out of it.

It’s cute, he thinks, how she doesn’t try to take advantage of such a moment. Even more, it allows him to worry less about putting a guard up; He pulls out his phone.

On Twitter and TikTok, he catches posts of his concert, liking and reposting his favorite ones. All of the love from his fans makes his chest swell with pride.

ATL definitely showed out tonight. A contender with Chicago, for sure.

Shutting his phone off, Ony drops it into his lap and leans back in his seat. His gaze is attracted to the woman beside him.  

In the low lighting, she’s gorgeous. As the driver narrowly avoids the greater part of a pothole in the street, the car is unstable for a second or two.

In that time, his eyes fall to her chest, seeing how it bounces even under the confines of her dress.

It triggers multiple images in his brain—memories of her past streams.

Finally shutting off her phone, Bliss does a quiet sigh as she pushes her hair over one shoulder, exposing more of her upper half. 

Blinking, she finally takes a look at him, and they make eye contact. Off of instinct, she laughs nervously.

“Hi.”

He smiles, showing off his grills. “Hey.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head lazily. So oblivious to just how impatient he is for her.

A date with Onyankopon.

She, Bliss, is on a date with The Onyankopon. Never did she think that would be her reality.

Before they arrived, he did just as promised—stopping by his hotel to get ready. He had her stay in the car, yet he definitely didn’t make her wait too long.

When he got back into the car, keeping his backpack at his feet, he smelled heavenly. His cologne was arousing—something about a good smelling man really just does it for her.

His outfit seemed to match the vibe she had went for: a brown Miu Miu leather and sheepskin jacket with snakeskin and flowers over the shoulders. His pants are a basic black, baggy fit jean with chains dangling from a pocket. His jewelry, of course, is silver.

And without a durag, his shiny waves were out for all to see.

There’s no doubt, he’d chosen the fanciest restaurant out here. It was a two-level establishment, and they have the entire second floor to themselves.

Just three of Ony’s security personnel guard the entrance and exit to the staircase. It’s quiet up here, yet peaceful. However, Bliss feels quite awkward, as all of the attention is on her.

They had gotten through appetizers before the real conversation began. Well, really Ony had gone through it. After a show like that, it’s no wonder that he’s worked up an appetite. 

Bliss picked at the food here and there, careful not to get full too fast. She also is still nervous.

“What you do earlier today? Before my show.”

Swallowing her sip of the mixed drink she had ordered, Bliss presses a hand to her chest.

“Just some shopping. This is my first time in Atlanta, so I wanted to take advantage of the malls.” She laughs quietly. “I hope your driver didn’t mind.”

Rubbing at his chin hairs, he glances at her purse set off to the side of the table. It’s crisp and the color is well saturated. There’s not an inch of the bag frayed or faded.

“You got this today?”

She follows his gaze. “Yeah,” she says nervously.

He hums. “How much you pay for it?”

She shrugs. “About 6k.”

He smirks to himself, still eyeing the bag. “That’s light … you want it in cash?”

Her eyes almost bulge out of her head. “What? I don’t—“

“If you don’t take the cash, I’ma find a way to get it to you. So quit all’at stuttering, humble shit.”

His voice is calm, quiet too. Which only astounds her, because there’s nothing calm about someone offering her six grand.

But, she’s not slick. Even as her mouth hangs open, he spots the hint of a smile on her stretched lips.

“It’s … I don’t need it, Ony.”

“Shit, I know.” Huffing out a breath of amusement, he smirks down at her. “But you want it, so just take it.”

She looks off to the side, her hair falling in her face before she pushes it over her shoulder for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Y’know, I knew ‘bout you for a minute.”

That stops her in her tracks. 

Her Instagram profile is that of the typical IG model—sponsorships, the occasional risky photo, but overall, pretty moderate.

How long had he known about her page? Was he stalking her profile like she’d done his? Why only now say something?

Her heart races. All of these questions she wants to ask—she opens her mouth to do so.

“Yeah, you cute on ‘em live streams.” He continues rubbing at his chin, still eyeing her.

And as those words left his mouth, her own closes.

Her career as a cam-girl isn’t in the spotlight. It’s no well-kept secret, nor is her page really even hard to find. Still, it’s always jarring when she has to come face-to-face with that in reality.

“W-what?“

Her voice is quiet. The shock on her face is quite apparent, too.

“I catch ‘em when I can.” He sits back in his chair and shrugs.

She knows it’s greedy, but if that’s how she gets her money, then so be it: her streams are only accessible to those subbed to her highest tier on her cam-girl page.

“Oh … my God,” she whispers, putting a hand over her mouth. 

He cracks a smile, a small chuckle falling out past his lips. 

“How long did you—“ She stops herself, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Couple months,” he says, like it’s no big deal. 

Her stomach drops to her ass. And as a new thought emerges in her head, her stomach threatens to fall out of her body.

“What’s your username?”

She almost didn’t even want to ask. Onyankopon can only laugh.

“C’mon, now. Y’know who I am.”

She fears she does. He doesn’t need to say it:

onLyONE1

Falling back in her chair, Bliss covers her face as she groans into her hands.

“Shit was obvious, too—“

“Stop, please!” She laughs, shyly. Pulling her hands away from her face, she reveals a soft pout on her lips. “I can’t believe you saw that,” she whines.

Is it crazy that his eyes seem to sparkle as he smiles? “What? Your body?”

“No! Well—kinda. I mean me crushing over you!”

Now, he’s practically cackling. And Bliss’ face burns with embarrassment.

Calming himself down, Ony sighs. “Relax, I thought it was cute.”

She gives him a weak glance, immediately looking away. 

“I can’t believe this.” She groans. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shakes his head. “That’s federal. I wasn’t even gon’ say nothing, ‘til I found out you was a fan—“

“Ugh,” she looks away, a scowl on her lips. “Don’t do that.”

“You right, my fault,” he chuckles. “A supporter,” he corrects.

“Thank you.”

He hums. “But, that shit was sexy, though.” He shrugs. “So, I had to fly you out here, see you in person.”

When she regains the courage to look him in the eyes, she feels small in her seat. His eye contact is unwavering.

“And get you all to myself.” He scoffs as he runs his eyes over her upper body. “Couldn’t stand you paying attention to all them broke ass niggas.”

His lips frown with thinly veiled disgust. It almost makes her laugh. On the other hand, the statement as a whole makes her tummy flutter.

She hates to admit it, but a possessive man will always be her weakness.

“I’ll double what I gave you, just to get you for tonight.”

“I … Ony…“ 

The offer is tempting, real tempting. But, can she really do this? The whole 'pay-for-pussy' thing?

He senses her apprehension. Wordlessly, he reaches down by his foot.

The low whine of a zipper catches her ears. Before she can question it, three, fat stacks of rubber-banded hundreds are dropped onto the table. Right before her widened eyes.

He pockets his hands, leaning back in his chair once more. “I matched you for the bag, too.” He nods to the stack.

She’s breathless. All of this money, it’s making her head spin. “O-Ony—“

Her resolve is cracking, he can tell. And this has got to be his favorite part about having money—the power it gives him. He widens his legs underneath the table, feeling himself grow stiff already.

“I’ma selfish ass nigga. I know that. And if I see something I want, I’ma get it. All I really need is one night … but, if you fucking with me, I’ll keep you put up.”

Her brain attempts to formulate a coherent thought, yet nothing comes up. This sounds too good to be true.

But, her mind can’t deny what’s in front of her. And, the idea of him spending so much just to have her—even for a night—only gets her wetter by the second.

He stares at her, patiently awaiting an answer he already knows he’ll get.

But, just to get it out of her faster, he turns up the heat: reaching back into his bag, Onyankopon pulls out another fat stack, placing it on top of the others.

Like magic, Bliss finds her mouth moving before she can even really think twice about it.

She’s giggly off the drinks, but she isn’t the only one. As Onyankopon continues ordering more and more alcohol to the table, she can see that he, too, is loosening up.

He’s talking more, a tad bit more touchy, and even bolder in his flirtatiousness.

She likes it.

Another thing about her and alcohol; She gets talkative. Part of her brain is screaming at her to put a sock in it, judging by Ony’s demeanor:

He’s sat back with an arm thrown over the back of the chair, slowly chewing as he stares at her with low eyes. In his hand, his fingers slowly twist a balled up napkin.

But, she just can’t stop talking. Her mouth is running a mile a minute—she doesn’t even remember what she’s talking about. 

However, all of her spouting comes to a stop when Ony finally sits up. Looking elsewhere, he throws the napkin down on the table.

Her eyes dart around. “What happened?”

Pulling out a crisp, black card from his wallet, he snaps it down on the cloth-table. “Ready to go.”

“Oh…”

Oh shit.

It takes almost no time at all for the waiter to take Ony’s card. In the blink of an eye, they’re standing on their feet, ready to leave.

“Don’t forget your cash.”

For a split second, Bliss is confused. But, when she follows the direction of where he points to, she’s quickly reminded.

Those large stacks of cash he’d pulled out for her earlier were sitting so casually to the side of the table, next to her purse. Like it wasn’t money itself. And a lot of it.

She slips her purse over her wrist before scooping them up in her arms.

“Yeah, there you go,” Ony nods, smiling at her.

They follow his security team to the elevator. All the while, he’s got an arm thrown over her slender shoulders.

Only two of his staff follow them into the moderately sized shaft. As the two, burly men stand in front of them, hands clasped before them in similar fashion, Ony’s arm remains around her neck, keeping her back pressed against his front.

And, boy, does it make her dizzy. Not only that, but her body buzzes with a renewed sense of energy. 

Everything about him, physically, is all encompassing. His cologne is so strong that it’s all she smells. The weight of his body isn’t stifling, but grounding. Even keeping her warm. 

And as her body practically melts into his, the fat of her ass is smushed against his front. 

The press of his print, which happens to lie perfectly between both cheeks, is impossible to ignore. She won’t even bother shifting around to get comfortable. Instead, she succumbs to his hold—too easily—and releases a shaky sigh.

Turns out her guess was right, he is big.

When they step out of the restaurant, yet again do they have to shield their faces from the barrage of cameras and flashes surrounding them.

This time, they run to the car, hopping in as silly laughter pours from them. God, they’re so drunk.

“C’mere … so fuckin’ far.” Ony seems to breathe out the words.

Even in the darkness, the look of lust is written all over him. It’s even swimming around in the air. Her eyes do a full sweep of his body, noting how wide his thick legs are spread. 

Like a minx, she slinks over from her seat and right onto the one he presents to her. 

“Mmh,” he hums, immediately snaking his arms around her small waist and dragging her up higher into his lap. 

She giggles, feeling all of him beneath her.

“You smell good.” He mumbles the words into the warm skin of her neck.

Bliss bends her head down and even sweeps all of her hair over the other shoulder to give him more access to her.

The kisses he lays there are hot and wet, pressed into her warm and soft skin. She shivers. One of his hands press into her lower stomach, keeping her from moving too much.

The pulse between her legs has grown into an ache. Every clench her pussy does is almost painful with how strong it is, even worse now that he’s hard beneath her.

God, why did she pick such a long dress? 

Without thinking, she grounds down onto him, weakly. Onyankopon’s other hand travels upwards the middle of her abdomen. 

She doesn’t focus on his lingering touch. She can’t. Not when he’s sucking a pretty bruise into the side of her neck. Her breathing quickens, and slow, tiny pants leave through her parted lips.

His traveling hand slides up between the valley of her boobs and anchors around her neck just as he lifts his mouth off of her. She bites down on her bottom lip, yet another giggle slips through her teeth.

“Thin-ass dress.” He tightens his grip around her neck. “Might as well have not worn anything.”

His deep voice and his rough hand has her pussy leaking into her panties. He lifts his hips by a fraction, and it pushes a small moan from her.

“Freaky ass lil’ bitch. Got ya titties all out—who’s it for?”

Her eyes flutter shut and she swallows thickly. 

He squeezes another moan out of her. “Hm?”

“Y-you.”

He chuckles. “Got my dick all hard, starin’ at ‘em.”

His hand finally moves, and the skin on her neck is cold. She misses it. But, that’s forgotten when both of his hands cup her heavy breasts.

Bliss arches her back, pushing them further into his warm hands. And, never one to refuse a gift, Ony squeezes them. 

Her body is weak as he plays with them, damn-near juggling them in his hands. And as he laughs, clearly amused by her body’s reaction, she can only try to keep her moans at bay.

“So pretty,” he mumbles before pressing a a kiss to the side of her face. “Pretty ass titties.”

His hands still, only cupping them. Then, his thumbs begin slow circles her pierced nipples through the dress’s thin fabric. Its tiny netting does nothing to shield her body against the gentle caress.

She turns her head to the side, her mouth open and desperate for something to plug it before an embarrassingly loud moan leaves it.

And like her knight in shining armor, Onyankopon indulges her in an open-mouth kiss. He wastes no time, sucking on her tongue.

Around her piercings, his fingers pinch and pull at her nipples. Bliss can’t help it, moaning into his mouth. Her hips rock against his, desperate to finally get on his dick.

When he finally pulls back, they can both breathe. And it’s the first time that they notice music playing through the car’s speakers. 

“Mmh, fuck,” he sighs. Ony sits back in his seat. 

Breathlessly, Bliss fixes her hair, trying to distract herself from the way her body was lit on fire from just kisses and fondling.

Ony looks around the back cavern of the car, quickly finding just what he was looking for: his bottle of Don. It’s stuffed in the side pocket of the car door, calling out for him.

Securing an arm around her waist, Ony leans forward to pick it up out of the car door’s side pocket. When he’s sits back, he pulls the top off the bottle and wastes no time taking a sip.

Busying herself, Bliss grabs her phone from its spot in the cupholder. She opens up Instagram and holds her phone up to snap a couple of clips of herself.

The near darkness of the vehicle is perfect, showing not too much nor too little for the camera to see. And every last clip stays in her drafts.

Still, she’s careful not to get Ony’s face in it, only doing close ups of her face as the music plays.

When Onyankopon finally pulls the bottle away from his face, he sees what she’s doing.

As she records another clip, she zooms in on her body, caressing herself and even showing off her pierced nipples through the dress.

A quick thought puts a smirk on his face. He interrupts, bringing his hand into frame as he squeezes one of her boobs. The ring on his pinky finger glistens under the cameras low flash.

With a surprised gasp, she cuts the clip short.

“Keep recordin’,” he says in her ear, gruffly.

“Why?” She chuckles. “You wanna be seen?”

He scoffs quietly. “That’s cute.” Shifting his hips, he pushes his dick harder against her, just for a bit of spite. “This just for you, though. Don’t post nothing.”

His nose and lips to her neck, his voice in her ear, his hands on her body—she shivers.

Pressing record again. She zooms in on his hand as it gropes her yet again. Very soon after, it slides up and wraps around her neck. She stops the video.

With a giggle, she saves it to her drafts. “Should I send it to you?” She questions, tapping away on her phone.

“Nah, keep that,” he mumbles. Turning his head, Onyankopon peers out of the window, watching the city zoom past them. “Got some other shit planned.”

Thankfully, there’s no paps around. No need for them to rush into the hotel or hide their faces.

As they take their time to get out of the vehicle, Ony’s security surrounds the car.

“Wait—the money,” Bliss worries. 

She’s halfway out of the car, a hand in Ony’s clutch as he’s the one helping her out.

“Don’t trip, I’ma have my people get it for you.” 

As her feet land on the concrete ground, Onyankopon laces an arm laces around her waist, pulling her in close.

“Okay,” she hums, bringing a hand to his chest.

As she looks up into Onyankopon’s low eyes, the lust in them is undeniable. She practically shivers with excitement.

“You cold?” He chuckles, cracking a grill-decorated smile. His perfectly groomed brows even pull together.

God, she’s never noticed how perfect his face looks up close.

Dumbly, she nods, her lips stretching into a wide smile. She watches his eyes flick downward to glimpse at her lips.

“I’ma get you warm soon, right?”

“Mmh, okay.”

Shaking his head, he allows himself to smile wider as he follows his security team into the hotel. 

As he said, two men stay behind to clean up the money at the back of the Rolls Royce. Just for Bliss.

Onyankopon’s room is on the eleventh floor. Normally, one would think that the commute from the hotel lobby to his room—by way of elevator, of course—wouldn’t take much time.

Five minutes, max.

But to Bliss, those five minutes are feeling a lot like thirty, at the very least.

While they waited for the elevator, Onyankopon was all over her. Large hands pulling her in and keeping her close—gripping her ass, too.

She’d whine his name, pushing her face into his chest. Because with the little bit of stragglers lingering in the lobby, there were still wandering eyes.

And he’d tell her, “Let ‘em watch,” because that’s the type of nigga he is. 

‘Rapper’ seems like a fitting title for him.

Oh, but when they finally get in the elevator? Not even his security being there was enough to keep him off of her.

He traps her against the back wall of the elevator. His large hand grasps the junction of her neck and jaw.

There’s tongue involved, far sooner than she thought there would be. But, she’s not complaining. Their heads twist as they suck on each other.

She finds herself moaning into his mouth as he applies pressure around her neck.

Bliss is barely able to pull away with the inch of breath that she was able to escape with. Both their lips are glossed over with spit—slimy and sticky. Their rushed pants quickly dry it, however. 

Before either of them can say anything, the elevator dings with the announcement of their arrival to the eleventh floor.

Only once the door to Ony’s suite shuts, is when they finally lose his security for the night. 

Bliss remains near the door, her first thought to take off her shoes. She keeps a hand on the nearby wall as she unhooks the back of her kitten heel from her foot.

It should take only ten seconds to get both shoes off. Yet, she lingers in that spot well after the time is up. Why?

Well, she’s watching him. 

Watching Onyankopon shrug that heavy jacket off of his wide shoulders and throw it down on the mini bar table. Watching him kick off his shoes. Watching him take a seat on a short leather couch, positioned in the middle of the circular shaped living room.

She isn’t quick enough; He catches her staring.

Her second heel finally drops to the ground. It makes a muted thud against the tiled floor—which is cold against her perfectly manicured feet.

With a tired sigh, Ony leans back against the couch, refusing to break eye contact. “Come.”

A faint smile makes the corner of her lips rise, and an amused scoff leaves her.

This time, Onyankopon watches her.

Watches the way her hips seem to perfectly sway—if even unintentional—with each step. Watches how her boobs bounce softly beneath the tight dress. Watches her land softly on his open lap, throwing an arm around his neck, too.

She throws her purse and phone down onto the cushion next to them, completely disregarding the objects.

Softly, he kisses his teeth, his eyes running over her body. 

“When you gon’ take this fucking dress off?”

She laughs. “When are you gonna take it off me?”

He licks his lips as he reaches behind her to slide a hand up her back, searching blindly for—he found it. 

At the top of her back, at the base of her neck, his fingers collect the small zipper and pulls. He drags it all the way down her spine, until the track stops, right above her ass.

“Now you want me to pull it off or you got that?”

Rolling her eyes, Bliss tugs at the tight sleeves of her dress, pulling her arms out. As she drags the constricting fabric down her body, her boobs spill out. 

The piercings immediately catch his attention. He resists the urge to reach out for them and touch.

Pulling back her hair, she tosses the bundles over a shoulder, allowing him to see everything. For a moment, she stands, only to pull the rest of the dress down.  

When she finally steps out of the pool of her own clothes, the only thing that covers her is that tiny ass G-string.

“Wish I could’a seen you at the show,” he tells her as she comes to sit back down on his lap.

Bliss licks her lips, looking down into his eyes. She hums, gazing at him. “I was dancing and everything.” 

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is soft and hushed, like hers. “Show me how you was dancing.”

She bites down on her lip, trying to stop her smile from growing.

He shifts beneath her, if only to pull out his phone. It’s a seamless process, how he was able to connect his phone to speakers that seem to be connected throughout the entire suite.

She almost laughs, if it weren’t for how serious he is; It’s one of Ony’s songs from his recently released EP. 

“Be my dancer,” he says in her ear, smiling wide.

She almost shivers. 

Wordlessly, she turns her back to him and puts hands on his spread knees. Leaning forward, she starts a slow whine. And Ony is all too happy to watch her ass move in circles right on his lap.

Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulls out a rubber-banded stack, just a bit thinner than those he had at the restaurant. He pops the elastic binding all of the bills together.

The beat changes, and Bliss shakes her ass side-to-side. Ony stretches an arm over her. The quick flick of his thumb pushes fifties and hundreds fluttering over her.

Entranced by the way the fat of her ass moves, he palms one cheek with the other hand.

As he begins to rub, Bliss returns to a slow whine before dropping it in his lap, earning a grunt from him. When she lifts her ass to do it again, Ony smacks it, gripping her immediately after.

Every time, she bounces her ass harder against him. She fights the urge to stop dancing and just solely grind against him, because at this point it’s getting hard to ignore the way he’s poking through his jeans. 

Her bounces grow shorter. The pressure and friction threaten to make her eyes roll back. She’s close to moaning out.

“Shit…” He bites down on his lower lip as he grips the fat of her hip. “Sexy ass lil’ bitch,” he groans.

In all this excitement, he almost forgot what they were doing. Picking the stack back up, he resumes the money shower, allowing the rest of his bills to rain down on her.

She looks back at him over her shoulder, noting the hand in his lap, holding his belt.

Biting down on her lip, Bliss fluidly turns around to get on her knees between his legs. The fallen bills keep her skin from touching the cold tiles.

One hand is positioned on his knee. The other snakes up his other legs, heading towards the buckle of his belt.

“Oh, you wanna get nasty?” His smile is full of mischief.

She nods as she focuses on opening his pants.

“Shiiit, go ‘head.”

And he didn’t need to tell her again. 

Manicured hands pull him out of his boxers. Bliss has to take a minute to cement this moment in her brain. Her heart is pounding in his chest.

He’s heavy in her hand. The very tips of her acrylics just barely touch as she’s wrapped around him. His thickness makes her tummy stir. She can’t wait to take him.

All of those nights she’s spent in bed, imagining him buried deep in her guts—now, it won’t be a toy doing the work. It’ll be the real thing.

Leaning forward, Bliss presses a kiss to the underside of his head. Quickly, she stretches out her tongue and laves it. 

“Don’t try to be cute,” he says through gritted teeth. Immediately, a hand swabs around the back of her head to gather her bundles in a messy, yet tight ponytail. “Suck me up like you do with them toys.”

She opens her mouth wide. Carefully tucking her teeth, Bliss engulfs his entire tip. She keeps him between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, sucking.

Her pace isn’t necessarily slow, that wasn’t even her intention. But, she’s not fast enough, either.

The hand in her hair guides her, encouraging a smooth push-and-pull of her head.

He sucks in air through his teeth. “Oou, just like that. Yeah—relax that throat.”

Her hands stretch across his denim-dressed knee caps, squeezing tighter as she struggles to keep up.

There’s a soft clinch in her face, eyes watering, as she gently gags.

“M-make sure you get that shit wet—mmh. Get it messy … just like that, get my dick messy.”

His voice softly coaxes her on. The firm grip on her hair paired with his commands has her doing everything he wants, and probably more.

His pace picks up, his force getting rougher. And even beneath the thick fans of her lash extensions, he can see her eyes rolling back.

Her gags are heavier, louder. His dick stabs her throat, causing wet clicks every time he touches the back of it. 

He groans out, his stomach clinching, as he feels her tighten around him.

“Sshit!” He laughs, her choking music to his ears. With a hiccup, a large rivulets of spit leak from her puckered lips and drips down his dick. “Yeaaah, just like that!”

As he chuckles over her, her pussy bares down on nothing. Her body is obsessed with the way he sounds.

It’s messy—so messy. Frothy bubbles of spit and cum gather at the rounded corners of her mouth. Thick globs hang from her lips, some of it even rolls down her neck. But all of it drips onto her bare chest, sticking to smooth skin.

And she doesn’t intend to do anything about it. The only goal she aims to accomplish at the moment is taking this dick without throwing up all over it.

Ony hooks a hand on the underside of her jaw as the other only tightens around her hair. All movement of her head is halted and the brief moment of stillness allows her to breathe properly—through her nose, of course.

“You gon’ swallow?”

“Mhm,” she nods eagerly. The fragile hum crackled as it left her.

Ony gazes down into her tear-filled eyes. He notes the mess clouding the bottom of her pretty face

“Sure?”

Her muffled ‘yes’ almost makes him laugh. She can hardly speak around his dick.

“Aight then.”

This time, he’s driving his hips forward, face-fucking her. Bliss lurches forward, hacking as he drills her throat. Yet she doesn’t tell him to stop. Nor does she pull away or even tap his thigh.

“C’mon,” he grunts, the deepest scowl on his face. “Take this dick, take this … f-fucking dick.”

Her body goes pliant as she allows him to use her face like a toy. However, her lips remain tight around him. She doesn’t even try to keep the spit from falling out of her mouth.

The longer he continues, his dick glides in and out of her lips. It’s all so slippery, she gags less and less with every thrust.

There is no announcement of his arrival. Only one more brutal thrust before he presses his hips to her face. They occasionally twitch as he shoots thick ropes of cum down her throat.

She almost chokes. Almost. It’s difficult to swallow his load around his dick, she lets out a gag or two.

When he finally drags himself out of her mouth, webs of spit and cum stretch between his tip and her swollen lips. She heaves, his hanging dick still in her face.

Too focused on gathering her breath, Bliss doesn’t see as he pulls his shirt off.

“Lift ya head,” he says, a soft hand cradling the back of hers.

Bliss looks up, staring into his eyes as he uses his Coogi shirt to wipe the muck off of her face.

His brows are furrowed as he concentrates on cleaning her off. “Yeah … can’t have all this shit drying on ya skin.” He even goes as far as to get her neck and chest. “Aight … there. You good now.” 

He pats her cheek with a smile, earning a giggle from the woman on her knees.

“Thank you.”

He outstretches a hand, helping her up on her two feet.

“It’s nothing,” he says softly. Using his soiled shirt, he wipes down his dick and inner thighs. And when he’s done, he tosses it aside.

As Ony is pulling up his pants, his dark eyes roaming her bare body, he gets an idea—eager to have her participate in it.

“You tryna smoke?”

•

The blunt shakes between her unsteady fingers. She doesn’t get a good inhale in—can hardly even pass it back to him.

Onyankopon does her a favor, taking the blunt back as he pushes his dick back in.

“Oou—shit.” Her shaky groan is music to his ears.

Holding the thick blunt between his lips, he takes his time bottoming out, both hands on her hips.

Her pussy flutters around him, her stomach stirring. This is the deepest he’s gotten, feeling his tip smushed against her cervix. Her head’s dizzy.

“Fuuuck, Onyy—“ A weak hand, hesitant in nature, cradles her lower tummy,

“I’m deep?”

“Mh—yes.” Her breath hitches.

He lifts a hand from her skin to pluck the blunt from between his lips. A thin cloud of smoke puffs from his nose.

“You could handle it,” he rasps. 

The slowly burning blunt dries his throat out, almost makes it scratchy. And yet the wetness between Bliss’ thighs makes it easy to forget the minor discomfort.

A shaky gasp slips from her mouth as he begins a slow stroke. It’s no surprise to her when—even as he’s the one fucking her—he pulls her back by the hips. The quiet clap of her ass against his pelvis and thighs cheers him on. It encourages him.

He wants her to be louder. He wants to hear more.

One minute he’s delivering slow, deep strokes, letting her body sing. Her pussy’s got a vice-like grip around him as it creams around him. Before long, she’s gripping the sheets tight and her legs tremble. 

Blunt be damned; Onyankopon drops it onto the floor in favor of focusing on the woman below him.

Her moans are loud and guttural as his dick punches her stomach from the inside. Even as they’re loud, the bed’s pristine, white sheets weaken the sounds.

And that just isn’t doing it for him.

“Nah, c’mere—“

Fingers grip her hair to yank her face out of the sheets. Her neck strains as her head is angled so far back, that she catches sight of something she’d been too horny to even see before: the mirror above the bed.

She’s got a clear eye-view of herself getting fucked as roughly as she’s always dreamed. It makes her clench down on him harder, she even whimpers seeing it. In such a fucked out state, it’s a drug seeing the way her body ricochets against his.

A small part of her is embarrassed seeing the faces she makes, she’s out of it. Yet, she loves it all the same. With Onyankopon as another set of eyes, she loves it even more—being watched while he turns her out.

Moan after moan pours from her lips until her throat is sore, and even then she still continues to yell at the top of her lungs about how good his dick is.

“Yes—yes! So … fuckin’ big—oh fuck!”

It’s impossible  to keep her grip on reality. Her knees can barely hold her up. The sweet pain in her lower stomach has her eyes rolling back. Ony tugs at her roots harder.

“Know you see yourself,” he grunts. “Know you see how I’m fuckin’ you.”

His smirk and breathless voice is just the cherry on top—she trembles as she squirts on him. But her release doesn’t make him slow down. In fact, Onyankopon goes harder.

“Mhm … cream on my shit. Squirt on my shit—drown me.”

Every time she tries to look at their reflection her eyes either crossed or she just can’t keep them open. All of her strength is reduced to nothing.

Onyankopon’s strokes, which hold an ungodly amount of force behind them, shakes the woman to her core. It knocks the air from her chest. 

A choked noise followed by heavy breathing is all that her body can muster. Seeing his response, Ony does it again, loving how it leaves her breathless and with no sound. 

He does it again. And again. And again. The clapping of skin is deafening to Bliss’s ears. Her vision blurs and all her body can do is focus on one thing at a time. All sounds begin to fade out. She can only spotlight the repeating jabs to her insides.

Every time she tightens around him, he finds it harder to hold back. But he keeps up. The faster he goes, the more sloppy and less accurate he becomes. 

As they continue on it doesn’t matter, Bliss is so close to another release, that it would only take a couple of these blind thrusts for her to cum again. 

“Shiiit!”

“What? It’s not enough?” He pulls out, and quickly thrusts back in, feeling triumphant when she yelps out.

“T-too mu—much,” she hisses.

He pulls out and she gasps, her body clenching around nothing. He takes himself in his hand, rubbing the head against her lips. He smears her cream around with his latex-covered tip.

She’s been stretched open, making it all too easy for him to see the creamy pinkness typically hidden behind brown lips. It’s a sight for sure, one that he can’t look away from as she pushes out some of her previous release.

However, he hadn’t realized that he was pressed for time; Bliss whines out, pushing back on him. Even her cunt clenches down, like it missed the fullness.

“C’mon,” she mumbles into the sheets.

He laughs. “You was just crying it was ’too much.’”

A brief moment of strength strikes her as she pulls her head out of the pillows to look back at him. “Put it in, Ony!”

With little to no effort, on account of how wet she was, he slips right back in, granting her that satisfying feeling of being stuffed. 

She moans sweetly and drops her head into the sheets, a long groan moving past her lips and he rolled his hips. The feeling of him stroking her insides, so good, better than good. 

It was great, and her eyes rolling back were evidence of that. He pulls out and pushes back in, repeating that movement at a fast pace. She sank her teeth into her lip, trying to stop herself from being too loud.

Bringing her hips up higher, Onyankopon achieves a better angle. She was getting drunk off his strokes, as well as the sound of him blowing her back out.

“Oh—oh… God,” she drawls.

The pleasure is overwhelming and she scoots up, trying to lessen the hits to her guts.

“Oh, so you runnin’? I thought you wanted me to beat it up?”

He pulls her back and holds onto her shoulders. Applying pressure, he uses that leverage to repeatedly bring her back on him, his thrusts hitting harder and deeper..

“Oh fuuuck,” she groaned and gasps, shutting her eyes to stop them from rolling back.

“You confusin’ me, mama.”

He’s reveling in the tight, warm and wet hug her body offers. He looks down, noting how her her body coats his dick in her cum.

“Shit, shit, oh fuck,” she whines.

He smacks her ass and keeps going.

“Oh shit…” he groans. “So… fuckin’ good,” he says under his breath, closing his eyes and getting lost in the feeling.

Bliss’s whimpers bring him back. Her thighs shake and her arch comes undone. 

In a flash, the desire to see her face again hits him like a freight train. And what other choice does he have but to do something about it?

It’s hard, but Onyankopon pulls out. Using what’s left of his strength, he flips her over on her back and drags her body to the edge of the bed. He’s wordless in his actions, she’ll see his point very soon. 

But, for now, Bliss sits up on her elbows to watch with tired confusion as he moves her.

Strong hands grabs her thighs and pull her flush against his front, eliciting a yelp from her. Instinctively, she wraps her legs around his waist, giving him the perfect opportunity to lift her hips completely off the bed.

“What the fuck?” She laughs, her fatigue so apparent in her hoarse voice. 

She has to make a great effort to hold herself up. Of course, Ony holds her, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t doing some type of work. 

“Trying something different. You good with this?”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been in such a position. It excites her, makes her giddy. It even brings a renewed sense of excitement and energy to her body. Her hair falls in her face as she gives a loose nod.

The muscles in his bicep flex as he transfers all of her weight to one hand, busying the other as he grabs himself. Just like this, she’s like a five-star meal placed before him, ready for him to demolish. 

He gives himself two quick tugs before aligning with her weeping center and slowly pushing back in.

The stretch is wonderful every time, evidenced by the way Bliss throws her head back.

He fucks into her, holding onto her hips so tight that his thumbs press against her hip bones. She writhes, and her legs damn near squeeze the life out of him as he hits spots in her that she didn’t even think to be possible.

“Keep squeezin’ me like that—yeah,” he groans out, throwing his head back as well.

Her moans seem to have run out despite her mouth hanging wide open. She’s completely silent, unable to scream as he digs her out.

“Uh—fuck, I’m ‘bout to c-cum—” Ony’s resolve seems to be cracking as his voice waivers with his moans.

Her legs tremble and her pretty toes curl so tight that her feet almost cramp up.

A burning heat flashes throughout his body as his orgasm catches him by surprise. His mouth drops open and his muscles tense before he leans down, dropping them back onto the mattress as he pushes his face into her neck. 

Senselessly, Onyankopon ruts into her, riding out his nut until he stops filling the condom. The overstimulation pushes Bliss over the edge as well. 

Her orgasm comes crashing down around them as her pussy clenches down on him, only wetting his dick further. She hugs him close, keeping him from pulling out too soon.

“Awe fuck,” he mumbles. As his lips had moved against the skin of her neck, it tickles her.

She giggles.

“Fuck you laughing for?” 

She can hear the smile in his voice.

“Tickles,” she breathes out. Shifting beneath him, she can still feel him inside of her, softening by the minute.

His chest rumbles with a deep sigh. “This shit got me … wantin’ to pass out.”

She hums in agreement, slowly dragging a hand up and down his back. His body is hot, a bit sweaty, too. She doesn’t doubt that hers feels the same way to him.

Movements filled with fatigue, Onyankopon pushes himself up to look down at her. Her makeup is definitely fucked up, courtesy of tonight’s events. And yet, he can’t stop himself from smiling when he stares at her.

“What?” She laughs, growing just a little bit shy.

“You better than a fuckin’ blunt after a show.”

She breaks into a full on laugh, giving him a much clearer view of her cute gap. “Thanks?”

“Nah,”  he says, shaking his head. “I definitely gotta keep you around.”

And even if he didn’t want to, Bliss doesn’t think she’d let him go.

…

Taglist -> @wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @nova2kss

Visit the Google form linked in my pinned post to be added to my tag list! Reblog if you enjoyed!!!

[n30n-l1ghts]

Okay, I need to rant. Fuck AI. And I mean seriously. FUCK. A.I. I know I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but more people need to be talking about this, and there’s no point in me saying that if I’m not willing to talk about it too. AI has done nothing but ruin our communities and defile the art that millions of hands have spent millions of hours creating. Fanfiction is a work of passion. Drawing is a work of passion. Voice acting IS A WORK OF PASSION. AI has no passion. It takes the soul out of the things we love and cherish. It steals what we as a collective community have lovingly crafted, and it shatters it to a thousand pieces, spits on it, curses its family, and throws it in a flaming dumpster to be eaten by rats. It is despicable and disgusting.

I won't lie, or pretend I’m a perfect saint. I myself was a user of Character AI until somewhat recently. And as ashamed as I am to admit that, I feel it’s necessary to own up to my own faults. But after seeing the damage it causes, I can’t in good conscience even consider touching that site. Many of us write because it is our passion. Many of us because it is our job. And many of us because it is our *friend*. AI steals the writing of your favorite creators WITHOUT PERMISSION and mashes it together like Frankenstein’s fucked up monster to create storylines that aren’t even fucking coherent. Not only that, but Character AI uses whatever you respond to it with to teach itself as well, which means that the company has access to whatever you chat about, and free reign to do whatever they want with it. They also make absurd amounts of money from it, which in comparison, fanfiction writers, who spend countless hours writing stories for our favorite characters, more often than not charge nothing. And the ones who do charge, tend to have reasonable, if not highly lenient prices for their labor.

Which leads me into another side rant. SUPPORT WRITERS THAT YOU LIKE. It’s really not that hard, it takes two fucking seconds of your time and it makes someone's day. Reblog. Share with your friends. Like. Comment. Just let the writer know that you saw it, and that you liked it. The amount of fanfic writers I have seen get completely discouraged from writing because of lack of engagement is astounding. I’ve seen several posts on Tumblr or Twitter or Bluesky talking about creators that were incredibly popular but never knew it due to lack of engagement is appalling. If you can rant about your love for their work on Discord, you can rant about your love for their work in the comments. Just fucking copy paste it. Tell them how much you love it. Show them support. Especially the ones that don’t charge. Because for those of us that don’t, our only payment, is your feedback. Even constructive criticism is greatly appreciated by damn near every writer I can think of. Because even that shows that you read it, absorbed it, and thought about it enough to have something to actually say about it.

The same thing goes for artists and voice actors. You see a drawing or animation you enjoy? Comment. Like. Share. You see a character in an anime or a game and you love their voice? Go check out their voice actor, maybe they do some other cool stuff, and you might just discover your new favorite series or streamer. A perfect example is Alejandro Saab. I became a fan of his through his astounding performance in several series dear to me, and lo and behold, he’s also a streamer I enjoy. Same story with Aleks Le, or Ray Chase. Yuri Lowenthal, Lizzie Freeman, Landon Mcdonald, Zeno Robinson, the list goes on. But seriously, it’s not that much effort to just show a little love to the creators you enjoy. The people who breathe life into the series’ that we all hold dear. AI does not breathe that life. Using AI, and supporting those companies, will destroy those pillars of our community. And if that happens, the AI would crumble too, it would have no new information to use. SO really, what’s the benefit? I’ll tell you. There is none.

Stop using AI. All it does is bring harm and slowly kill our community. It’s disgusting, appalling, and downright fucking egregious.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[bhaalest]

god this is so overdue. im finally making a bg3 side blog

for a first post i wanted to list some of the artists i've been (mostly) refraining from reblogging to main for many months at this point. i meant to only do my favorite few but then i couldn't decide who my favorite few were so... here you go

@meanbossart draws absolutely beautiful art of his absolutely beautiful du drow, and also has an amazingly well-written and well-characterized story about what he, astarion, and shadowheart get up to post-game

@kawareo goes deep how his durge strike suffers from both the urge and orin's attack, and into strike before orin's attack. i love the standalone art and comics, so when i say his writing is my favorite thing he's done that's high praise

@velnna's tav staeve is another very pretty man and i don't know how to describe what i like most about his art other than "very pleasantly textured", it catches the eye in a very pleasing way

@lucklessrat has incredible dramatic and comedic timing in their comics of lethean, and i love what they do with leth being old. you don’t see that often

i have a soft spot for half-orcs and paladins so naturally i think about @everchased's finch constantly. they have several of my favorite bg3 comics ever but the SMITE one is... just gonna say i agree with astarion there

there is so much to say about @jeeaark's tav greygold, from the jokes to the relentless optimism to the visceral (in a very good way) art style, but my new favorite thing is the dark urge (godsdammit) companion series, it's really fun to see DUG and greygold interact and i can't wait for more. also, another half-orc!

@ejoym's durge devlin is wonderfully deranged, i love the dark humor in the comics, the art is really crisp, and the artist makes really great use of colors. i love how pointy everyone is also

@ohpsshaw's durge typhus is going through it at the moment. love his expressive face (and the expressiveness of the whole art style) and puppydog vibe, i can't wait to see how much he... enjoys... the rest of the game as daddy's chosen. also check out the artist's entertaining commentary on her main(?) blog

@taygra5shaon's big scary durge jacq somehow can do adorable and terrifying equally well, sometimes at the same time. this is another artist who has great timing in her comics. i especially like the young jacq ones.

@angiemaniac's tavella and durge companion au presents durge from a different and very interesting perspective. and she does a great job including every companion into the story, while tavella is still a compelling character on her own!

cae is the most beautiful durge you've ever seen and @hellothisisangle's art does such a good job of making him feel dangerous. it's incredibly beautifully rendered, the poses and fashion are always amazing, and on top of it all cae's lore is fascinating too

@wellen-katze's comics are really in a league of their own. their comics vary but my favorites are the ones that hurt to read. my favorite series is this one with ascended astarion and a nameless durge dealing with the tragic aftermath of the story. their comics hurt in an incredible way that i can't get enough of.

ghost, aka niro, by @oathbreakerapologist is wonderfully fucked up. he has a really upsetting presence (/positive) and i can't look away from his relationship with orin. this is probably the least sfw blog i'm linking, which i hope comes off as a complement

with @mistercrowbar's aldiirn it's hard to pinpoint specific things i like because the art and comics are so well-rounded, but if pressed i would point to aldiirn's visual design and the skill with which the artist makes his desire for approval and will to break the rules mesh together. i'm not sure if i want to be his friend or study him like a bug

i love @crocodiller's pining dumbass (affectionate) rowan so much. there's a lot to like about the comics but my favorite is rowan's supportive friendship with karlach. they're also very well-paced and some of the crispest art i've ever seen

i found @ryvenarts and sullen literally yesterday but i'm already very interested and excited to see if there will be more

another recent (to me) discovery, thirkuir by @jayfitzmaurice. i really like his design and the expressiveness of all the characters

@quess-art has an adorable baby durge who still has a compelling backstory i'm excited to see more of. plus the wagging tail is just perfect

@3eefstud's durge Einar is really nice to look at, with amazing colors and gradients. i'm surprised i didn't find them until very recently

i thought @panksage's Ebony Darkness D'urge was just a joke at first but no, the comics are sincere (and also funny) and just beautiful, especially the colors!

i do not know if @arianiziolek's durge has a name. catty little murder lizard (affectionate). has some of the funniest comics but more importantly the best durge facial expressions

@bajablast666 is double dipping with durges kaethan and kelrath. both their art and writing have an intensity that i love (the red outlines they use often are so good) and their writing in particular conveys emotion and visceral feeling so well

karl by @beltart is another on the surprisingly long list of people i initially found from their art, then read their writing and was blown away. i don't think i've seen anyone else depict the weight of the urge as intensely as this and i love it

and finally, a palate cleanser from all the durges, @wirywyrm's tav arthur who's in a sitcom as opposed to a horror story. i really like the texture and detail of their art and also how much of a dork arthur is. least smooth bard(adin) in the realms

incredibly i did leave out a few people, mostly people who draw companions rather than their tav/durge because i sort of locked myself into this format, so i may come back and update this later!

[empty-movement]

Chiho Saito’s 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection

IT’S HERE. IT’S DONE. IT’S FINISHED. NOW…IT’S YOURS. Happy Holidays, my friends.

Vanna here! I have posted some already about this project, and the responses I got, public and otherwise, have been absolutely incredible. Y’all have been reblogging and hyping this before it even finished…I haven’t felt so encouraged about an Utena project since the musicals! (Yes, streams soon, I promise.) You can read the other post to get more details, and catch my post here with more details about the process if you’re interested. The long and short of it?

This is the first artbook I ever scanned. I did it in 2001. In Photoshop, using multiple scans per page that took hours to process. But it was 2001. A half megabyte file that was 1250px wide was considered extremely hardcore and impressive. That’s just always been the business I’m in when it comes to Utena art, you know? 

It’s now the latest artbook I’ve scanned, and so much of the process, and effort involved, is unchanged. What has changed, is the result. Welcome to your new desktop background. Your new phone background. Your new poster print. 

What I’ve done here is attempt to create definitive digitized images of Chiho Saito’s work as offered by this book--I have removed the print moiré of the original scans, and used my literal decades of experience to try and tease out as much information from them as possible. Without being physically in front of the original artwork (which is a thing I’ve had the great fortune to get to do) this is The Most Chiho Saito you are ever going to get. I’ve tried my best to make sure there is a way to get it that works for everyone:

Do you just wanna scope 'em out? Look at some disaster gays? Grab your favorite one or two? This is the path for you! Check out the ‘compressed’ (not very) 10k ‘web friendly’ (not really) copy at the Bibliothèque, the media archiving wing of the Something Eternal forums at Empty Movement*. All the following links are also available from here. Do you want these copies? All of them? Don't just grab them individually, friend. This batch is 375MB and can be downloaded as a zip of the individual files here on our Google Drive.

Do you like digital archiving? Are you looking for a copy that preserves the archival quality of the effort but sits nice and comfy in a single file? This is for you. A minimally compressed 10k, 513MB version worked into a PDF is now up, shiny and chrome, on the Internet Archive. Do you like the idea of the minimal compression, but want the individual files in a zip? Yep I did that too, here's the drive link.

Are you looking to print these in a larger size? This is probably the only reason on Earth you’d ever want them, and yet a bunch of you are going to go straight for these. Here are the zero-compression JPG full size copies, most of them are 15k across, like simply a ridiculous size. Pick your fave and download it from our Google Drive! 

I am genuinely really proud of this work.** I was able to tease out so much new detail from these…her incredible layering techniques, the faintest brush of her highlights, and the full range of her delicate hand at whites and blacks… details commonly lost in digitization. I sincerely hope you find something here that you’re looking for, as an artist looking for inspiration, as a weeb looking for a desktop, as an archiver excited to see incredible 90s manga artwork saved forever in the digital realm. I feel like I have already said so much about them, and could keep going, but you know what? This work speaks for itself. Enjoy, use, explore, and definitely tell us what you think!

We love y’all. ~ Vanna & Yasha

* AHEM ASTERISK AHEM

You might be wondering what any of that is. Something Eternal? Biblewhatawhat??? EmptyMovement.com? You might even have done a double take at the word ‘forum.’ And you should!!!

I have a confession. This artbook was my ‘side project’ as I worked on this, *the main project.* For a couple years I’ve been banging around with a new domain, and originally I had other plans for it, but Elon Musk ruined my Twitter and Discord is well along on its way to enshittification, and well….we joke on the Discord a lot about ‘reject modernity, embrace forums’ and you know what? We’re right. So Yasha and I are putting our money where our mouths are once again, and doing something insane. We are launching, in 2023, a website forum. Obviously, this is not the official ‘launch’ per se, but I cannot announce the artbook without directing you to the forum, since it sits on the attached very cool gallery system. Oops! Told on myself. Another post more focused on the forum will be forthcoming, but if you are just that motivated to get in right away, you absolutely can! (This will help stagger new arrivals anyway, which is good for us!) If you would rather wait for the ‘official’ launch, by all means that’s coming, including a lengthy screed about how and why we’re doing this. In either case, remember: this is a couple weebs trying to make internet magic happen, we are not website developers by trade. Give us grace as we iron things out and grow into this cool new website thingie…hopefully along with some of you! :D

If you do join up, naturally, there is a thread about this project!

** If you like this kind of content, consider helping us pay for it! We do have a Patreon! If you’re wanting to use these in some public-facing distributive way, all we ask is for credit back to Empty Movement (ohtori.nu or emptymovement.com, either will work.) 

I would like to say ‘don’t just slap these files on RedBubble to get easy money’ but I know that saying this won’t effectively prevent it. Y’all that do that suck, but you’re not worth letting it rain on the rest of this parade. :)

[zelphin124]

SeasonTale Creative Challenge (2024)

PLEASE REBLOG SO EVERYONE CAN SEE THIS!

Art and Design by Aoi-Kanna

Greetings, Artists! It is I, Zelphin, and I am back with the annual SeasonTale competition! Welcome back to the second year of the SeasonTale Creative Challenge!

There are going to be a few changes from last year. One, there will be no voice acting addition to the competition this year, and writings will receive short story prizes, not cash prizes like the artists.

DEADLINE IS NOV 15th, 2024, 12:00 AM (GMT-4)

Winners will be announced no later than December 1st!

Updates are in #scc info

Scroll down for details!

Rules

It must be any character from SeasonTale or IroTale. You can find all of their designs here! (For IroTale: here)

You MUST tag #SeasonTale Challenge and @zelphin124 in the post so I can see it! Or DM me on Discord!

You CAN do more than one submission.

You CAN do the SeasonTale characters interacting with OCs or popular Sanses, get creative!

DIFFERENT/SIMPLER OUTFITS ARE ALLOWED! I know they are a pain to draw...

You CANNOT steal/copy from other creators!

You CANNOT submit something you submitted last year.

Please keep all content PG-13

Payments will be made via PayPal (unless negotiated otherwise)

Prizes

All prizes are in USD currency!

Artists

First place: $60

Second place: $40

Third place: $20

Note: There MUST be at LEAST 20 submissions from different people in order for me to hand out prizes, so make sure your friends participate too!

Check out the Past Winners for some inspiration!

HAVE FUN! I'm so excited to see what you all come up with!

[writtenbyan-aries]

jake and girlfriend reader where they’ve been together for awhile now and he gets a tattoo of her bite mark?

Bite Me | Jake Webber

Warnings: biting, mentions of needles and other things related to tattooing, mainly fluff

Word Count: 619

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“You never told me what tattoo you were getting, J.”

Jake glances back at you from the tattoo chair, “It’s a surprise.” You roll your eyes with a laugh, “Oh, I see. Alright.”

You walk up to stand next to him, watching as the artist finishes setting up his station.

Jake rests his arm on the arm rest, laying his head back as the cap of his shoulder gets prepped. You go to sit back down, but Jake reaches out, “Don’t go far, babe, you’ll be needed in a second.”

“Needed?” You question, walking back over, “For what?”

The artist lays a piece of clear wrap on Jake and gives him a thumbs up.

Jake looks up at you, “Bite me.”

“Bite you?” You laugh, “What do you mean?”

“I’m getting your bite mark tattooed on me.”

Your jaw drops slightly, “Are you serious?”

Jake nods his head, “I am.” He smiles, laughing, “Now come on! Do it!”

“You’re going to want to bite kind of hard, enough to get the marks to stay so I can map them out, ya know?” The artist says as you walk around, and you nod, “Okay.”

You take a deep breath, pulling your hair back as you bend down, “Like right.. here?” You point and Jake nods, “Yeah, that’s perfect, babe.”

You smirk, shaking your head before you open your mouth and sink your teeth into the plastic wrap on his skin.

Jake watches, taking a deep breath as you stand back up straight, “Good?”

His eyes move from you to his shoulder and he nods, “Fuck yeah.”

You walk back over to the other side, pulling up the chair and sitting next to Jake, “I see why you kept this from me.”

He laughs slightly, “I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Jake. I have your initials you drew, tattooed under my boob, why would I say no to this?” You laugh, “I think it’s kind of hot.”

“Yeah?” Jake smirks and glances over as the needle runs over your teeth marks, “I can agree, probably my favorite tattoo ever.”

“You’re just saying that.” You roll your eyes, giving him a smirk. He sighs, tilting his head, “Am I?”

You slide your hand to his and squeeze, “No, I know you’re not.” You smile and lean over to see, “It actually looks really sick.” You nod, “I think that might be my new favorite one, too.”

The tattoo didn’t take long at all. Once he was finished, Jake walks over and checks it out in the mirror, “Sick as hell.” He pulls his phone up to take a picture of it, “Okay, now y/n, come here.”

You walk over and he spins around, holding his phone up to take a selfie of you, his tattoo, and him.

“Thank you so much, dude.” Jake gives the artists a fist bump and he nods, “Anytime, Webber. You know you’re my favorite client.”

“See, now he’s just saying that.” Jake laughs, “Nah, I’ll be back for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Jake’s tattoo and you tilt your head, “What if.. I got one of yours?” You look up at Jake’s face as he spins around, “Huh?”

“Yeah, like, on my hip or something?”

You can tell the wheels in Jake’s brain were turning as he tried his best to keep himself.. calm, “Now that.. would be hot.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading! I love you so much! Catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[elllisaaa]

MAKE IT BOUNCY - K. YEOSANG

KINKTOBER DAY 2 - VOICE KINK

SUMMARY : going through your ovulation week when you were a manager for ateez was hard enough to not have to deal with yeosang deep voice too. it did things to you, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to keep all of this professional.

-> pairing : idol!yeosang x manager!reader

-> words count : 1.7k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : fem!reader, teasing, semi-public sex, voice kink (obviously), dirty talk, office sex, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, making out, swearing, a sprinkle of fluff towards the end.

+ the way i'm depicting yeosang does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist | kinktober 2024

Most of the time, you loved your job and you were aware that many people would envy you for it. However, there were still some downsides, even when you were a manager for Ateez. One of these disadvantages were part of the fact that being around such attractive men all the time was sometimes difficult. And it wasn’t even Wooyoung constantly flirting with you or Yunho being too gentle for its own good that fascinated you, it was Yeosang’s voice. 

Strangely enough, the way his pitch could go so high and yet so deep at times was what messed with your head the most. The first time you came to a recording and you actually realized how deep his voice could go, you were blown away - and also a little bit excited, you had to admit it. But you needed this job, and you were not going to lose it only because Yeosang’s voice made your panties wet. Usually, it didn’t cause any problems - you were often surrounded by the other members, stylists, makeup artists and so on. 

But today, life seemed to have decided to pull a not so funny joke on you. If working with Yeosang was sometimes hard, it was even harder when you were in the middle of your ovulation week, and that he was wearing a fucking compression shirt on top of it all. And as if it was not enough, his voice sounded very good too, a little hoarse and raspy for some reasons. 

“- Uh, Y/N ? Did you listen to me ?”

You snapped out of your daze as Yeosang called out to you. With burning cheeks and a sentiment of shame washing over you, you tried to concentrate again on the details you had to go over with him. As fashion week was coming, you had to plan every event each member had to attend, and that meant individual meetings - which you would’ve gladly refused to do but you were the head manager and you had no other choice. 

“- What’s going on with you today, you’re distracted, it’s not like you. Are you sick ?”

Yeosang’s gentle eyes dove into yours, and the fact that he was so worried about you paired with his deep tone made you gulp down loudly as you shook your head, trying to look away from his delicious biceps which were perfectly molded by his compression shirt.

“- N-No, I’m okay, I promise, just a little tired. Don’t worry about me.”

You smiled at him as best as you could, turning another page of your notebook to not miss any important information. It became even more difficult to stop yourself from staring at him when he got closer to you to look at the outfits the stylists had proposed. He was standing behind your chair, bent over your shoulder so he could look at the photos, leaning on his hand that was resting on the desk and making his muscles bulge even more. 

“- You’re definitely not listening to me.”

He seemed a little annoyed at you, and you felt even more embarrassed as you apologized again, but your lies didn’t seem just as convincing as before, unable to look away from him for too long because he was just that mesmerizing.

“- I’m really sorry, I’m just very exhausted lately and it’s been a long day. We can finish this tomorrow morning, if that’s okay with you ?

- Really ? Isn’t it because you were too busy checking me out ?”

You could feel his hot breath crashing against the back of your neck, your cheeks becoming an even deeper shade of red. You had to stay professional, but Yeosang was making it really difficult. 

“- W-What ? No ! I wasn’t, I’m your manager.”

It was as if you needed to remind him - and mostly you - of your status and the relationship you were supposed to have to not make an even greater mistake. But Yeosang only chuckled in a low tone behind you, doing nothing to help your heartbeat calm.

“- That doesn’t mean I can’t see how you’re staring at me Y/N. You think I’ve never noticed ?”

You shivered as Yeosang’s nose brushed against the side of your neck, teasing you and drinking in every one of your reactions. He loved how easy it was to rile you up, how easy it was to break you down. Because he would be lying if he said that he had never thought about you in an inappropriate way before, he would be lying if he said that he had never checked you out before. 

“- You’re not as discreet as you think. I can always tell when your eyes are on me. Now, what made you so inattentive today ? I wanna know what you were thinking about, please.”

The low rumble of his words had you biting down on your lips, goosebumps all over your skin as you could feel his fingertips gliding from your shoulders to the limit your tank top drew in your back. 

“- Your compression shirt. And…

- And what ? Tell me, please.

- Your voice…”

Yeosang giggled as he spinned your desk chair around, a playful smile on his face as he leaned in close to your face, his eyes flickering down to your lips as he talked.

“- My voice ? What about my voice ?”

You were still a little embarrassed, but you couldn’t deny that the situation was turning you on, and the way Yeosang was staring at you couldn’t be mistaken with anything other than lust. 

“- I… I like it when it’s deep like that, it’s… It’s really sexy.”

Your confession brought another smile to his lips, and without saying anything else, he finally crashed his lips against yours. It felt even better than anything you had ever let yourself dream about. You closed your eyes as you let Yeosang tongue dance with yours. 

“- I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The way he was whispering against your lips in that same low tone had you pressing your thighs together, and Yeosang didn’t want to lose any more time. It wasn’t like him to be so impatient, to do such a thing at work. He never did that before, but he had never craved the touch of someone more than yours at this moment. He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him until he could sit in his own chair, you on his lap, where you could clearly feel his boner pressing against your core through the material of your flannel pants. 

“- Is the door locked ?

- No, I didn’t think we would stay here for long…”

Yeosang seemed to think for a few seconds, his big hands helping you rock your hips against him, little sighs of pleasure escaping him now and then as you got bolder in your grinding. 

“- Fuck it, I-I need you, right now.”

His admission made your heart beat even faster if that was even possible. And this time, you were really focused when it came to unbuttoning your pants and helping Yeosang pull his cock out of his sweats. As you were sinking down on him, you closed your eyes shut, your ears invaded by the way Yeosang let out a weak, trembling moan, your body overwhelmed by the feeling of having him fill you up so nicely, of having his hands clasped tightly around your waist. And when you looked into his eyes again, it was like time stopped for a moment, like the both of you understood that there was nothing you could do to go back to normal after all of this. But as you started to roll your hips on top of him, and that Yeosang used that strength of his to help you take him, you didn’t regret it. 

“- Talk to me, please, I wanna hear you.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, feeling the tensed muscles under your fingertips as you used it as a support to increase your pace. 

“- Don’t stop, please don’t stop, it feels so good…

- Yeosang…

- Shit… You say you like my voice but my name sounds so good in your mouth.”

You bit down on your lips, trying to conceal your whines and whimpers as you admired him. His face was flushed, some strands of his black hair falling in front of his glazed eyes, his red lips parting to let out some airy moans here and there - and he had never looked hotter to you.

“- T-The night we went out to celebrate the comeback, I couldn’t look away from you… You were… Breathtaking.”

You remembered that night very well, remembered how much effort you had put into your makeup, hairstyle and outfit, remembered how you thought you had felt his eyes on you at some point but you had brushed it off because you thought you were being delusional. 

“- I… I’m close…

- I’ve got you baby, cum all over me, please. You look so pretty like this, just use me for your pleasure, yeah ? Make yourself feel good on my cock.”

His words were what pushed you over the edge, throwing your head back as you were trembling on top of him, the clenching of your cunt around his dick bringing him to his release too. Choked and drowned out moans escaped from the both of you as you tried to keep your noises down. As you came down from your high, you chuckled when you locked eyes with Yeosang, still a little dazed from your orgasm. And a soft smile took over his features as he leaned down to capture your lips in a much tender and loving kiss. 

“- Come with me to Paris, I want to be away from everyone else, far away, just you and me.”

You knew it was probably not a good idea, knew that you wouldn’t be truly alone, knew that you were going there for work. But still, the way Yeosang looked at you made butterflies swirl in your stomach and you nodded at him with a small smile on your lips. 

“- Okay, I’ll come with you.”

And this time, a bigger smile brightened his face as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“- I’ll make it worth it, I promise. And you can listen to my voice all you want.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

ateez masterlist (fill in this to be added) :

@sharonxdevi @hann1bee @lil-kpopstan @heevllog @lichyuu @foxinnie8 @lovelyuyu @lala-----------lala

kinktober taglist (comment or dm to be added) :

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @anxiousskylar

[romana-after-dark]

Dirty Old Man

Dark!Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

Follow @romana-updates and click follow, join my tumblr community or ask to join the tag list to keep up!

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: Logan is your driver, and one day he gets tired of keeping his hands to himself. Logan's POV.

Warnings: NON CON! DDDNE!!!!! Alcohol consumption, breeding kink but reader is on birth control. slapping. big, girthy, throbbing, rock hard age gap. crying, dirty talk. Absolutely wild slut shaming and misogyny in Logan's head. Seriously yall he's bad here. Theres nothing redeeming about him.

1.5 K words

Minors DNI, DEAD DOVE!!!

Support writers and artists, reblog and leave comments

He’d been watching you for longer than you realized.

Logan was used to taking odd jobs, having just enough to get by and when he tires of one place or another, he quits and finds somewhere else. But this right here? Yeah, he was sticking around for a bit.

You were a stupid little thing, silly and bubble head with a great pair of tits and a niave view of the world. He was your driver, taking you all around the streets of New York, anywhere from fancy gala’s to Sex and the City style luncheons -wait no it’s called brunch-, Sex and the City style brunches, to sleepovers with friends. Every time you hoped in the pretentious car, you slid in the back with a hello, and hopped out with a goodbye and a thank you. Today was no different.

A little crisp out for such a small dress, don’t you think?

Fall was coming, even if it grew later and later every year for the leaves to turn yellow and the wind to cool around you. Still, it never stopped dumb girls like you from dressing in the skimpiest little things, just tempting nasty old men like him, testing, teasing, until there was a consequence. You really needed to learn a lesson, didn’t you? One by one, Logan dropped off your slutty little friends, all dressed in an aray of orange and red and black and all the fall colors that were fashionable for bimbo’s like them to pay attention to. This wasn’t all your friend he’d driven to the club, some of them probably went off to get railed by some horny college student who just had to compliment them once or twice and they were sliding their underwear to the side.

You weren’t like them. You were wearing white, as pure as the day you were born, your sweet little head too filled up with thoughts of sunshine and flowers to be someone who’d let a man touch you like that. That’s why Logan wasn’t going to be ‘let’, he was going to take.

Drunk like your father every evening trying to drown out your nagging mother, you babbled on about the evening to him after your last friend left, filling him in on all the innocent fun you had at the club. You weren’t like the others, you didn’t grind on men or kiss your friends for attention or snort coke, you were happy with a several drinks and a good time.

“Back home, bub?” He asks you, looking through the rearview mirror.

“Yes, please, Mr. Smith.” You replied with his alias. He wanted to make you scream Logan, Logan, Logan. A pause. “Where are we?”

Logan had pulled into an empty alley, smirking at the knit of your eyebrows in confusion. “Gotta check the back tire, bub. Seems off.”

You were too drunk and stupid to question him. Naive girl, so trusting. He went to the back right tire, near wear you sat, and bent over pretending to look, knowing you well enough to know you’d open the door and peek out.

“Wha- *hiccup* what is it, Mr. Smiff?” 

He chuckles at you slurring his faux name. 

“You can just call me Logan, kid, I told yuh that.” Logan stands, bracing his arm over the car frame, leaning over you. “Everything, I’m afraid.”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Everything?”

“Yeah baby, looks like we’re gonna have to kill some time.” He makes his move, pushing you onto the leather seats and shoving you down. For a moment, you don’t struggle, just a yelp of surprise but Logan can see the realization of what's happening dawn in your eyes. Then, you slap him.

“Big mistake, kid.” Two slaps, one after the other in quick succession, are delivered to your sweet face, letting you know that however you fight, you’ll be punished. “Won’t help yuh to fight, sweetcheeks, only gonna make it worse.” He watches the tears well up in your eyes, your pretty lip quivering, but you don’t fight. You give in. He chuckles. “Well that was easy.”

Logan spreads your legs, grinding his clothed erection over your white underwear, making you whimper. “P-please don’t… I’m sorry, I-I I don’t-”

“Shhhhh, princess…” Logan wipes a tear from your face, nuzzling his beard against your neck. “Just be good for me, this will all be over soon, okay? But be that sweet girl I know you are.”

A dizzy, tired ‘okay’ and Logan leaned back to undo his pants where his crisp white shirt was tucked in. As expected, you simply stayed laid back and didn’t fight or try to get away. Such a good girl. “Take your panties off for me.”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me…”

All he had to do was narrow his eyes at you and you were scrambling to do as he said, making you complicite. 

“See? I knew you wanted this.”

Sliding into you was heaven, feeling you clench around him in fear, the tension of your body manifesting in squeezing him cock even as you got wet around him. He was your first, he knew that. Inside himself, he knew that, even if you hadn’t said. Because of course you hadn’t? Who would share that with her driver?

“Fuck princess, look at you…” Logan grunted as he began to thrust, watching your tits in that braless dress bounce. “Taking this old man cock so good, aren’t’cha? Yeah, just look at you…” He grabbed your hair harshly, yanking you up so you were bent over. You scream in pain, but quickly quiet yourself with little sobs instead as he forces you to watch him violating you, entering and withdrawing and entering again until he lets go, letting you flop back once more.

Logan’s cock slams inside you, and Logan bets you can feel him inside you, feel him prodigy at your womb, ready to be bred like a good girl like your deserves. 

“Are you on birth control?”

“Y-yes” You cry, covering your face in embarrassment. Are you lying? No, no he can see the little rod in your arm. He grab your tender flesh, and you cry out briefly again as he feels the stupid fucking implant in you, thumbing over it as he growls in frustration. He wanted to get you knocked up, make sure you were the stupid girl who got herself pregnant after he ditched town, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He gropes your tits through the dress, slapping at the side to make you yelp before moving on downward. You were awfully wet for someone who was crying. 

“Poor girl… is the mean old man taking your virginity? I know, I know, I’m the worst.” He swirls a finger over your slicked up clit, making your body jolt. “Fuck, such a sensative girl around you. Been years since I fucked someone so sweet and innocent, you’re -fuuuuuck, princess- you’re every dirty old man’s dream, you know that?”

He felt your cunt tighten at that, and he barks a laugh. “Ha! Don’t think I didn’t feel that, sweet cheeks. That make you hot? You like knowing old creeps think of our naked body while fisting their cocks?”

You cover your face. “No!”

“Princess, don’t fucking lie to me. Come on.” Logan touched your body, knowing he could bring you pleasure, wanting to feel your first orgasm gushing on his cock. “Give it to me, come on this old man cock, be the dirty whore I know you wanna be.” 

Your cry into your hands as your body betrays you, orgasming hard enough it pulled his own climax out of him. Even though he knew you wouldn’t get pregnant, Logan loved knowing that he was pumping load after load of his hot seed into your virgin pussy, knowing it would leak out of your for days. Morning after morning you wake up to his cum sliding out of your, reminding you that you’re nothing but a dirty old man's whore.

The whole ride to your penthouse, you laid in the back of the car, never moving from where he left you. When Logan pulled up to the building, he put his arm on the other backrest, looking down at you. “You tell anyone about this,” He let his claws fly out of his fisted hand. You could only flinch, your eyes drooping heavily. “I’ll end you, and whoever you tell. Got it?” Logan waits until you nod. “Good. Now get the fuck out of my car.”

Later…

You lay in bed, staring at your phone though the tears in your eyes. A shower couldn’t wash off the feeling of him in and on you, so you just gave up, stumbling into bed with your most comfortable clothes.

Your screen showed a message your forgot to respond to before getting drunk.

Remy Boo <3: Bon soir, cher. Text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe.

 You couldn’t tell him. Logan said he’d kill you and whoever you told… but if you didn’t respond, Remy would pull up to the penthouse and check on you. You did give him a key, and you owed him a response. He was your boyfriend, after all.

You: I’m home!!!! Had a great night with the girls. Im tired. Ttyl.

*************

Thanks so so so much for reading!!!! I might do a part 2 IDK. I kinda wanna see remy finding out what happened and that it was logan of all people.

If you like dark logan, check out my masterlist!

Our Gentle Sins is my logan series rn! I also wrote a lot of joel miller if thats your thing!!!!

Every single like, reblog, and comment means the world o me!

if you want to be tagged in my dark logan, check out my tag list!

If you want more logan bt not dark, check out @romanarose for my normal stuff.

@del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @oldloganslittleslut @shybluebirdninja @hornystan

[unforth]

Alright not to like liveblog my breakdown on main but yesterday was a really bad day after a really bad, like, 4 months, and I've hit a bit of a breaking point and one of the only things in my life that can give is running @mdzsartreblogs , @tgcfartreblogs , @svsssartreblogs , @erhaartreblogs , @tykartreblogs , and @cnovelartreblogs , so that is what has to give. It's been a 99-out-of-100 days thankless job. A small number of people do say thank you and yall I appreciate you so much (HUGE shout-out to the artist I met at Flamecon who gifted me a zine when I said I ran these blogs, @bonesblubs you rock) but I have never done an act of fandom labor simultaneously this labor intensive yet this invisible before and, uh. It sucks. I spend an hour or more a day on this every day, if it's under 2k hours since I started the first of these in September 2020 I'd be shocked. And I do it because I love it but doing it means I don't have time or energy to do other things I love. And I really don't want to just quit, but I can't keep this up.

In a last-ditch effort to try not to just give up, I'm making the following changes:

1. Only watching one tag per fandom for the MXTX fandoms. I am going to check *only* #tgcf, #svsss, and #mdzs. Artwork posted to any other tag, I will not see unless a mutual reblogs it.

2. Reduced tagging (even more). I'm only going to tag characters and maybe overarching au type (eg, "modern au," "fantasy au"). I'll no longer tag creatures. I will continue to tag the same common trigger warnings I already tag.

3. If a work's appearance doesn't make it obvious what it is AND the tags aren't clear, I'm not going to reblog. I can't keep spending 5 minutes or more trying to figure out what I'm even looking at, scared that if I guess wrong the artist will get mad at me for mistagging their work. If I do reblog, I'll tag only the artist name and/or whatever else I can identify for sure.

4. I am no longer going to follow #link click. The fandom is just too big. I've started dreading checking it. If I was more into it and less busy I would make another spin off just for it but neither of those is true. (The art is so good, I hate to do this, but. If you love link click, highly recommend the main tag, lots of great stuff there.)

5. I will no longer tag any non-cnovel content in the art/post. Like, if someone draws, idek, Xie Lian and Marinette from Ladybug, I'm not gonna put any tags for Marinette, just for Xie Lian.

6. Basically if I run into something hard to tag or confusing or unclear, my new policy is I'm not gonna fricken bother.

I think those are everything but idefk, I cried for 3 hours last night and got 4 hours of sleep so I'm mostly fueled by exhaustion and desperation right now and my memory is even more fried than usual.

How artists can help. This is obviously all optional. You do you. But since some people might want to know what would make my life easier, I'm sharing. I'm not claiming I feel entitled to dictate how people fandom or anything like that.

1. Put the tags for the character(s) and ship(s) early in the tag list.

2. If you make art for a fandom that isn't one of the big ones (right now the only big danmei fandoms on tumblr as far as I can tell are the MXTX fandoms and maybe 2ha) I am begging you to use my tracked tag #cnovelartreblogs

3. Do mdzs art? Tag #mdzs. Do tgcf art? Tag #tgcf. Do svsss art? Tag #svsss.

4. Not only artists, but everyone, *please* stop tagging fandoms not discussed and/or depicted in your post. It's gotten to be stupid common for people to blanket the danmei fandom tags with posts only about one fandon (like, svsss-only works also being tagged mdzs and tgcf and 2ha for some damn reason). This isn't about just my sideblogs tbh this is just fandom etiquette that seems to have been forgotten or never learned by many. Tagging unrelated fandoms isn't "reach," it's annoying. People go into the #mdzs tag to see mdzs, not whatever not-mdzs stuff people have decided to tag for ~reach~, and seeing the same post in 8 tags, none of which it's related to, is so damn irritating, and makes scrolling the tags looking for content that IS relevant take that much longer. Knock it off.

Okay. I think that's as much as I'm prepared to meltdown where everyone can see. Thanks in advance everyone for your understanding, and apologies to everyone about to see this 8 times as I reblog it to each sideblog.

At least I'm not tagging it to everywhere. 🤣🤣🤣

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: told myself to slow down, didn’t.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You finish your cocktail before you go into the concert hall. Roxie grabs a third and you pass, not wanting to run back and forth to the bathroom. Besides, you don’t really like the way the vodka stirs in your stomach and little behind your eyes.

The band is decent. You don’t know any of the songs and only vaguely heard of the artist they are a tribute to. Still, you enjoy the live show; you focus on their instruments and how they use them. You always wanted to be musical but never had a sense of tone or melody.

By the end of the set, you’re yawning. Your sister is on her fourth drink and you can’t tell if she’s swaying to the music or if it’s more than that. As the rows empty, you shuffle out with the rest of the concert goers. The bright lights of the casino greet your squint and your ears pulse slightly from the noise of the strumming and crashing show.

“Mm, so, what’d’ya say?” Your sister makes almost every word into one, “how do we spend this?”

She fishes out the chip and you give a sheepish frown. You almost forgot about it. You still think you should turn it in. You don’t feel right spending someone else’s money. You do that often enough, much too old to be living off your mom.

“Don’t be boring,” she warns, “jeez. It’s just cards. Odds are, whoever dropped it, would’ve lost it to the house anyway.”

She claps her hand around your shoulder. You pull back the sleeve of your cardigan to check the time. It’s after ten! You haven’t been out that late since... ever.

“I’m not boring,” you cross your arms and shrug her off. “I just... am different than you.”

“Boring,” she repeats. “You can’t spend all day in your room.”

Yes, you can. And you do.

You don’t argue. When she’s like this, it’s only bound to become a scene. There are too many strangers around for that.

“Black jack,” she declares and spins the coin. It slips from her grasp and falls between her feet. She bends over shamelessly in her dress to pluck it up. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

She struts ahead and you shuffle after her, nervously wringing the strap of your purse. Hopefully she loses it quickly and you can just retreat home in defeat. You catch up to her as she reaches the stairs. She giggles as she leans on the railing and you take her other arm, trying to support her wobbly steps.

“Want another drink?” She asks.

“No, think we’re good.”

“We?” She scoffs, “I’m fine.”

“Please, Rox, let’s just find a table,” you peek around as her voice rises a bit louder than you like.

“Pfft, fine, but if I win, I'm getting a drink.”

You nod. Go along to get along. That’s what your mother always told you when it came to your sister. She’s more like your father than she cares to admit.

You get to a table and she sits easily on the high seat of the tall stool. She lays down the single chip and the dealer offers to break it into smaller ones. She nods and shrugs. You envy how smoothly she just breezes through things.

You stand behind her. You don’t want to take up a seat and the stool is too much of a climb for you. You can see it wobbling as you attempt to hitch yourself up with the crossbar. You’re good, you shouldn’t get comfortable.

You listen to the shuffle of cards as your sister murmurs something you can’t make out. You can only hear the low drone of voices as you stand back. You sidle out of the way as a man claims the empty stool beside your sister. He buys in and another hand is dealt. Hasn’t she lost yet?

The man leans into your sister and you grimace. She turns her head to listen to him and she giggles. Your cheeks blaze hotly and you cross your arms and rock. Neither seem to notice you as they get closer and closer.

As the game progresses, you can only really make out what the dealer says; the different numbers that have grumbles coming from other players. You bring your hand up to pick at the button on your cardigan. The man puts his arm around your sister’s back, his hand on her hip as wiggles in her seat coyly. What about Tom?

You peer around awkwardly. Do you stop her? Remind her of the boyfriend that got her the tickets for tonight? You bounce in your flats and pause as you find someone else staring back at you. Or are they? Just as quickly as your eyes meet, the stranger’s eyes flit away and he’s back to chatting with another man. It’s the very same man who gave you the chip. Maybe her forgot you. That’s not a surprise.

You return your attention to your sister. The man has moved his arm between them and your sister squirms. You watch his elbow as he pulls his hand back. He’s touching her leg. She’s wiggling and suddenly, she shoves him away and screeches.

“EH! I got a boyfriend, perv! I said stop.”

Her voice carries along the high ceilings and you cringe. You back up, cowering away as she stands and the stool teeters dangerously. She fists her hand and you think for a moment she might just hit the guy. He scoffs and turns in his seat.

“Babe, just wanted to buy you a drink.”

“Whatever. You fucking creep!” She hollers.

“Ma’am,” the dealer calls from the table, “is there a problem?”

“Y-yeah,” she hiccups, “this dude had his hand up my skirt.”

“She’s drunk,” the man shakes his head, “listen to her.”

“I’m--” your sister’s denial catches in her throat, “doesn’t mean he can just touch me.”

“Ma’am, if you’re drunk, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m fine. I'm not that...” She slides off the stool and stands, grabbing the chips in front of her seat and tossing them across the table. “You’re all a bunch of crooks.”

Her ankles tangle as she spins and she barely gets her balance before she storms away. Her strides are uneven as she bobbles drunkenly. You watch after her with wide eyes before you follow. She leads you into the bathrooms as she growls and grumbles. She slams into a stall and you stand outside.

You wait until she comes out. She’s quieter and her eyes are hazy. She washes her hands and applies a new coat of lip gloss.

“What a bust,” she pouts and rolls her eyes, “one more drink and we’ll go.”

“Maybe we should just leave now.”

“That guy was such a pervert,” she sneers at you, “you saw where his hand was.”

You nod, “yeah, I did...”

“So, you know I wasn’t being dramatic.”

“Yeah, but... everyone heard.”

“Oh fuck off,” she pushes your shoulder and stomps past you.

You feel bad. It’s not that she shouldn’t defend herself. You admire that she can, but she didn’t need to be so obnoxious. You trail after her into the casino. She heads directly for the bar. You hang your head and wait behind her. This time, she doesn’t offer you a drink. She’s mad at you now so it’s the silent treatment.

“Honey,” another man approaches, “how about I get that for you?”

“Huh?” She babbles, “oh, sure, baby, that’s sweet.”

The man offers his card to the bartender and orders a highball. He leans his arm on the tall bar top as he faces your sister. She bats her lashes at him and giggles as she pulls her drink closer.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” He asks.

You blink. It’s like you’re not even there. You watch awkwardly, wishing the floor would swallow you up. Instead, you find an empty stool one seat away.

“Roxie,” she answers as you struggle up onto the seat. “And you, handsome?”

“Sam,” he returns, “what’re you drinking then?”

You notice him touch her glass along the brim but can’t see much else around your sister. She replies and his own drink is served. You shrink down and sigh. She’ll get her free drink and then you can just leave. You hope. You hold your chin as you dread another scene.

“Can I get ya something?” The bartender approaches.

“Er, water, please,” you choke out. He seems disappointed but gets you a glass.

You try not to overhear your sister and that man. It’s awkward and you hate this. It’s not the first time she’s done it either. The few times she’s brought you along, you’ve somehow become a third wheel. It reminds you of when you were kids and your mom forced her to take you with her somewhere. She doesn’t actually want you around, she’s genetically obligated.

“Woah, baby, you okay?” The man raises his voice and your sister’s body slumps. Shoot. No.

You barely get off the stool as the man clings to her drooping body. She giggles wildly as you tweak your ankle and rush over. That man, Sam he called himself, seems somewhat calm given the situation.

“Slow down, babe,” he chortles, “Jesus.”

She’s drunk. You knew she shouldn’t have had another drink. Your eyes meet Sam’s and he squints.

“You know her?”

“My sister,” you murmur.

“Oh, right, well...” he clears his throat and looks around, “you can take care of her then.”

“Wait--” you barely keep her up as she leans on you as she’s almost sideways on the stool.

He’s just leaving you? What the heck? You guess if he can’t get anything out of her, she isn’t worth the effort.

You sniff and struggle to slide your sister down to her feet. She’s heavier than you expect and her height makes her difficult to balance. You glance over as the bartender nears.

“Everything okay?” He asks sternly.

“We’re leaving,” you assure him, “sorry.”

“Five minutes,” he taps his watch face, “or I call security.”

You nod and move your arm around your sister’s back, “please, Rox, gotta work with me.”

She laughs again, “hey, where’d that cute guy go?”

“Please,” you beg again, “don’t...”

“Oh, hi,” she touches your faces and squeezes your cheeks, “baby sister.”

You hate when she’s like this. She’s always been a drinker, ever since high school when her friends would sneak out bottle from their parents’ stash. What was once an act of rebellion as a teen is now concerning as an adult.

“Excuse me, everything okay?” The timbre makes your heart drop and you nearly let go of Roxie as she leans in the other direction.

You look up. Oh god. It’s him. That dark-haired man in his expensive suit.

“I’m just... we’re on our way out--”

“She alright?” He points at your sister.

“Tipsy,” you utter.

“I see,” he pushes his hair back as it slips forward, “can I help?”

“Uh, you don’t--”

Before you can answer, he has your sister’s other arm. He almost lifts her entire weight off of you as he supports her against his shoulder. Your entire body is emblazoned in humiliation. You refuse to look above the floor as you’re certain you must have an audience.

You get your sister across the floor and into a hallway. There's an exit sign ahead but you're all turned around. The man stops you and Roxie.

"Where'd you park?" He asks, "this leads to Lot 5."

"Oh, uh..." you blanch. You hadn't thought of any of that. You slouch under Roxie's weight and try to see around her. "I'm not sure but... I don't drive. She was supposed to."

"Ah," he clucks, "and now she can't."

"Right," you agree glumly, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Why?" He asks.

"I didn't think... I let her--"

"Did you let her drink or did she make that choice knowing she was supposed to get behind a wheel?" He challenges.

"I guess... yeah. Sorry."

"Really, doll, no need to keep going on like that," he dismisses, "well, it's late and I can't in good conscience let you wander out with her like this. Especially if you don't have a way home."

"I could..." you begin. A taxi? You'd have to ask your mom to pay the driver when you get home. "Why would you... care?"

"Well, as the owner of this establishment, it won't look good on me if two pretty girls left and went missing," he chuckles then stops himself, "sorry, that's not funny. I just... we overserved your sister obviously so it's on us."

"Owner?" You gulp. You didn't think this could be any more humiliating.

"Bucky," he reaches around you sister.

You hesitate. You can't shake his hand properly as yours is around your sister so you just sorta grab his hand briefly and squeeze two fingers, retracting with another raze of embarrasment. You barely squeak out your name.

He repeats your name before he continues, "I'll get you two a room so she can sober up."

"What? No. That's... too much."

"It's late," he insists, "here," he pulls Roxie away from you as her head lolls and she snorts. He lifts her against his chest, carrying her easily. "I know a back way, just follow my lead, doll."

"Ummmmm," you drone and he waltzes back the way he came, hardly detered by the drunken body in his arms. You can only kick yourself and scramble after him. This night could not have ended any worse. Well, you guess it could if it went the way he suggested.

[custom-emojis]

Well! Just when you think things can’t get worse huh….

While I’ve been trying to get money for my boyfriends arrival and wasn’t trying to take donations— our utility bill has gone up Again and I am at my wits end as I literally can’t even afford my phone bill let alone the rest of the bills and food money. I really don’t know how the hell im expected to survive to live in this economy … I’m currently trying to get on disability but it costs money I don’t have to fill the forms out so… ugh.

So if you’d like to support a queer disabled artist survive this month— you can check out my KOFI SHOP or COMMISSIONS (both of which have a 21% off sale going rn. Use code SETH for the shop and SETH21 For the commissions)

Otherwise you can donate to my PayPal @ paradoxproductions (or just use my kofi to pay with Apple Pay and other methods) and cash app is $137islands

I’m fully willing to work for $$ creating art , stickers, prints or whatever you like. I just need to be able to get enough to pay my bills. I don’t have a set goal amount because I feel like my bills are too high to expect them all to get paid by donations— but for transparency my utility is ~ $280 and my electricity is ~$110 and my phone bill is ~ $28 which are the most pressing issues, so truly anything helps. Thank you so much for understanding and any reblogs to spread the word would be appreciated

[eupheme]

FALLOUT - 2024 FIC RECS

a rec list to share and support all the gorgeous fics I read this year. please check these out and support these writers, they are all incredible! 💖

COOPER HOWARD X READER

— a tale of two cities by @studioghibelli

you’ve been kidnapped by the Big Man. a certain bounty hunter comes to rescue you.

— animal instinct by @ghoulbrain

When you're both ambushed by raiders, Cooper comes to understand the lengths he'll go to keep you safe.

— close quarters by @ghoulfuckersincorporated

— howdy partner by @ghoulfriends-and-tin-cans

— it's always the quiet ones by @ghoulphile

We can see that Cooper tends to go for good girls, but what if he ran into a seemingly innocent - or at the very least kind - person… but they dirty talk like a sinner in the sack?

— it's only fair by @spatialwave

you hadn’t expected to see a celebrity at your nephews birthday party, let alone america’s most recognizable cowboy star. luck seemed to be on your side when cooper howard’s attention landed right on you.

— janey's dad by @/ghoulphile

“We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

— nighttime affairs by @cys-fic-library

You and the Ghoul, Cooper Howard, have a complicated relationship with each other. One which involves him paying you some nightly visits when he passes on by that little home of yours out in the lonesome wasteland.

— not my first rodeo by @/iwritefandomimagines

the tension between you and cooper had been palpable for ages, and he was beginning to struggle to deny his attachment to you — despite his reluctance. he’s certain you’d never really be interested in him like that, until he finds out he’s not the first ghoul to enjoy your company.

— red lips by @spatialwave

“could you write something where the reader is his makeup artist on a new movie. Theres an Automatic connection they really click and have some sweet sweet sexual tension and after working together for a while during the movie the tension keeps growing and they get steamy in the makeup trailer. ”

— run rabbit run by @/ghoulphile

"think about coop calling you bunny from the start bc he clocked that you were always a down for it and you not getting it until he after you fuck for the first time"

— saddle up, sweetheart by @ghoulbrain

The Ghoul—Cooper, as you know him now—does not make himself an easy man to get to know. 

— take the damn shot by @moonlitdesertdreams

A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you’re covered in another person’s blood. Honestly, it’s just typical.

— the rebound by @bubonicc

It’s been a long time since Cooper has felt a loving touch. Perhaps a little too long because he’s not entirely sure what to do with you.

— there is a heaven, lets keep it a secret by @cockslutpadalecki

The owner of the brothel you were sold to only offered you to the ghoul in the hopes it would frighten you. To stop you from trying to run away. You weren’t meant to actually like it.

COOPER HOWARD X READER X JOHN HANCOCK

— regret by @iwritefandomimagines

you finally head to goodneighbor for a well earned rest… but hancock’s jealousy (and cooper’s possessiveness) might get in the way of that.

if you haven’t read these, you need to! and please support these amazing fics & writers by reading, reblogging & commenting! 💕

[corrodedcoffinfest]

Welcome to Corroded Coffin Fest!

This is a fanworks challenge/event that is all about Corroded Coffin. It will take place from July 1st thru July 31st.

Thanks so much for showing interest in this event during this post! If you have friends that you think would like to participate, please considering reblogging this announcement!

The calendar of prompts is located here:

Since there are so many events going on (and we love to see it!) we've decided to set a word count range for this event, so the love can be spread around to more events.

GUIDELINES:

Ideas for works include: fic, art, gifsets, fanvids, moodboards, edits, playlists, or anything else you can think of to celebrate Corroded Coffin!

For fics, there is a word count minimum/maximum of between 300-1000 words per drabble. We'll use wordcounter.net to check the word counts before reblogging, so make sure you stick to that range!

Do one prompt, do them all. Hell, do them all twice! It's totally up to you. You can pick and choose what you're interested in. And we're not going to police how you interpret the prompt. Just use them as a jumping off point to be inspired by the boys of Corroded Coffin, and then share that inspiration with us! (Not everything has to be band related, we encourage you to explore other parts of their lives, too!)

Submissions can absolutely be connected to other prompts from the event, or even past works, but should still be able to stand alone each day.

Every morning a new prompt card will go up, reminding everyone of what that day's prompt will be.

All submissions should include any pairings featured, content rating and any content warnings (CW) or tags that you think are appropriate. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well, just to keep things straightforward. A sample could look something like this:

Prompt Day 9: The Hideout, Word Count: 666, Rating: M, Pairing: None, CW: Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Tags: Corroded Coffin, First Gig, Partying, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, Freak, The Hideout

Also, please consider putting any explicit material under a read more cut, because anything rated E that's not hidden under a cut will not be reblogged.

For the artists! Your art submission must be posted on the same day as the current prompt in order to be reblogged by this blog. Your piece of art (or other creation) must be Corroded Coffin focused, using any combination of the guys, together or solo. Of course, other characters can be included, too! But you need to have at least one of the CC band members in it for it to count for this event. Thank you!

All ships are welcome, as long as they include at least one member of Corroded Coffin: Eddie, Jeff, Gareth & Freak. (Who I look forward to learning the name of from you all, time and time again!)

Please tag us here @corrodedcoffinfest when you post your work for the day so we can reblog it!

Be respectful of your fellow participants and readers. We're all here to have fun and share the love of all parts of Corroded Coffin.

Definitely feel free to ask me anything if the rules weren't clear in places, or if I straight up forgot something (or if you just have anything else you'd like to ask). You can send an ask/message to this blog or reach out to @thisapplepielife.

Please submit your post by 11:59 PM EDT on the day of the prompt in order to not be missed for reblogging.

 If posting on AO3, please feel free to use the collection associated with this event: Corroded Coffin Fest AO3 Collection after your submission has been reblogged by this account.

Most importantly, have fun! We can't wait to see what Corroded Coffin fanworks come out of this new event!

More info below, including full prompt list with jumping off suggestions, the warm-up rounds for April, May & June, and a spreadsheet you're free to use:

PROMPTS:

JULY 1ST - FIRSTS

First gig, first check, first award, first...anything.

JULY 2ND - IN THE BEGINNING

How did Corroded Coffin come to be?

JULY 3RD - BEST FRIENDS

Who are the best friends in the band in your head? Let's find out.

JULY 4TH - EDDIE

We all know Eddie. Let's hear some more about him today.

JULY 5TH - ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Get them out on the road, in any way you see fit.

JULY 6TH - HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG

Let's have some romance. Any pairing(s) that tickle your fancy.

JULY 7TH - CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES, C'MON

Let them celebrate! Maybe that's a birthday/holiday/celebration show. Maybe it's a wedding, etc.

JULY 8TH - BAND POLITICS

Fight! Fight! Fight! Not everything goes smoothly all the time.

JULY 9TH - THE HIDEOUT

Catch them there, every Tuesday, playing for five drunks.

JULY 10TH - PRIDE

Let's see them celebrate Pride! Or let's see them be proud, etc.

JULY 11TH - JEFF

Let's spend some time with the guitarist of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 12TH - OW!

Injuries happen. Tell me more.

JULY 13TH - SEX, DRUGS & ROCK N ROLL

Tell us about the seedier parts of being in a band! 18+ for adult content, please!

JULY 14TH - AND THE WINNER IS...

It's time for awards season. Do they win? Lose? Let us know.

JULY 15TH - LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT

Press Tour/Interviews. Sometimes they need to promote themselves.

JULY 16TH - STRUGGLING

They're working their asses off, grinding it out, but they haven't hit the big time yet. Or they're struggling in other ways...

JULY 17TH - "THIS ONE'S FOR YOU"

Dedicate a song to someone special.

JULY 18TH - FREAK (GRANT, FRANK, GOODIE, ETC.)

Whatever name you given him, let's all focus on the bassist of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 19TH - IN THE GARAGE

Get them in the garage. Band practice, fixing the van, etc.

JULY 20TH - UNDER THE COVERS

Let them cover some real songs. Or, you know, get under the covers in another way...

JULY 21ST - HATE THIS TOWN

Hawkins. How was it dragging them down? Or, maybe they hate LA...

JULY 22ND - ALTERNATE UNIVERSE (AU)

Use your imaginations and put them into a whole new world!

JULY 23RD - UP AND COMING

They're finally gaining a little traction. Or maybe they're up...and coming. *wink wink, nudge nudge*

JULY 24TH - BEHIND THE SCENES

What's it take to get this show on the road? Or, what are they really like, off-stage? Let's get a peek behind the curtain.

JULY 25TH - GARETH

Bang them sticks! Let's catch up with the drummer of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 26TH - TOUR DATE

Let's focus on a specific show.

JULY 27TH - YOU'LL BE IN MY HEART

Navigating love while on the road.

JULY 28TH - BACK TO INDIANA

Let's go back to Hawkins and/or Indiana. Send these boys home.

JULY 29TH - BEHIND THE MUSIC

You know there's drama. A story. Probably enough for VH1 to come knocking.

JULY 30TH - FAME & FORTUNE

They've made it big! Now what?

JULY 31ST - YOUR SONG

A Corroded Coffin song? A work inspired by a song? A song that makes you think of Corroded Coffin?

WARM-UP ROUNDS:

Let's get a little practice before the full event in July!

Here's a prompt each month leading up to the event to work out the kinks and get in the rhythm of it all!

APRIL 15TH - TAXED

It's tax day. Do they need to pay their taxes? Is this a write-off? Or, are they just taxed from being on the road? Tax them.

MAY 15TH - GET A JOB

Put 'em to work. First jobs, side hustles, etc. Surely they've had some other jobs besides being in the band. Tell us about them.

JUNE 15TH - BAND ON THE RUN

Are they late for a gig? Running from monsters in the Upside Down? On a tour from hell?

Same guidelines as the full event will apply.

SPREADSHEET:

If you'd like a spreadsheet to help you keep track of the prompts and your progress, here's the one I personally use for other events, and will be using myself for this event. If you'd like to use it yourself, just go to File>Make a Copy and you'll get a version you can edit in your own Google Sheets.

Thanks for showing interest in having a Corroded Coffin event this year! ❤️🦇🖤 - @thisapplepielife (and thanks for the help and adding to the prompt list, @wormdebut!)