#rhythim is rhythim

[djevilninja]

Rhythim Is Rhythim - Strings of Life

[radiophd]

rhythim is rhythim -- it is what it is

[grrl-operator]

Rhythim is Rhythim - Emanon

[cepheusgalaxy]

Poison's first dance: The chains dragging Angel at every step, his facade failing every now and then and having to smile for Valentino

Poison's second dance: His dance, his stage, a scenario in his head for coping with what's actually happening right now

[catgirl-catboy]

Does anyone wonder where the gore pics antis sometimes send us come from? did they get consent before using them? It could be going against the photographer's boundaries.

[jiosoull]

Just A Prank Bro

"What are those squishy noises I hear in the background, Doctor Zayne?" You furrowed your eyebrows, focusing on the wet sounds echoing faintly into your ear. It sounded like someone was prodding into some thick plastic— or maybe it was flesh.

A gentle and cringing squeak caught your attention. Must've been wheels rolling on the tiles. And if you focused a little harder, you could make out a soft and rhythimic beeping from the call. That sound must've come from a monitor.

Was he attending to a patient?

"I'm holding a kidney right now." Zayne answered coolly, emphasizing it as he brought the squishy thing closer to the phone. And squeezed it.

Your eyes blew wide open as you flinched back from the screen with shock, and a bit of concern. And a bit unnerving.

"Th-That sounds..." You hesitated, but shook your head firmly and cleared your throat awkwardly, "You know what nevermind. You sound pretty busy and I don't wanna disturb your work. I'll call you later, Zayne!" You quickly hung up on him.

Zayne on the other hand, stared at the end call screen where a picture of your lovely face was displayed on his phone wallpaper.

He stifled a dry chuckle and smiled. A ruined small slice of orange in his gloved hand.

The little girl on the bed stared up at the doctor throughout the whole conversation. A blood bag hanging beside her with a small tube connected to her arm.

"Why'd you crushed it?" She pointed at the squished remains of the small piece of orange in his hand.

"Just proving a point." He added smoothly in a sly tone.

🙈

I don't think he'd risk taking a phone call while he was doing surgery buuuuuttt he can be a very convincing actor. Based on this! 👇 @pumpkin-patch-cat tq op for tickling my 🧠 lol

[eth4nsknife]

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. friday night. [jack champion x reader]

── "thank you, my love."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

summary: with jack’s busy filming schedule, it was hard for you and him to spend time together. you missed his cute brown curls, his soft cuddles, his perfect smile. you missed him. but you had a great idea.

warnings: none, just fluff! 💞

a/n: this is my first time doing this so i'm sorry if it's bad or contains any errors 😅

jack’s phone buzzed in his pocket. his face lit up when he saw your name show up on the screen. he picked it up on the first ring. 

“hi, my love!” he exclaimed. 

“hey! how are you?”

“i’m doing great because you called” he said gleefully

you blushed and let out a giggle at his comment. “you’re so adorable. are you busy right now? i have something in mind for us.”

“i’m free for like..” he paused. “2 minutes.” he chuckled awkwardly. “tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“that’s alright. ok so i know you’re pretty busy nowdays and i barely see you, which i really hate because i miss your dorky face.”

he chuckled.

“sooo how about this friday night, we just stay at home and watch our favorite movies or something? we can take turns picking. i could buy your favorite snacks and candies, maybe we could have some popcorn—“

“i’d love to” he said softly. he did a little happy dance until he heard someone call his name. “aw i got to go, love. i wish i could talk to you more.”

“it’s ok! you’re busy i get it. i’m so excited for friday.” you smiled widely. ”alright, i’ll let you go. love you! text me when you can alright?” you blew kisses to the phone.

“love you more. i promise i’ll text you. bye!” he said as he hung up. although he was sad that he had to go, jack loved hearing your voice even if it was just for a second.

——— ——— 

you had just finished setting up when you heard the rhythimic knock that jack made up when you guys first started dating on your apartment door. you jumped up with joy and ran to the door. as soon as you opened it, you jumped into his arms. 

“i missed you so much, sweetheart.” you mumbled. he lowered his arms to wrap them around your waist and squezzed you tight. 

“me too, love” he kissed the top of your head and you smiled softly.

“cmon let’s go! close your eyes though, alright?” you said as you grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. 

“wait w—“ but before he could finish, you covered his eyes with your hand as you guided him to the living room. slowly removing your hand, jack opened his eyes and gasped at the room. fairy lights hung across the ceiling and around the tv. his favorite snacks and candies placed carefully and neatly in a tray. a blanket fort in the middle with a ton of pillows inside. 

“lately you’ve been working non stop and i know you’re super tired, so i figured you needed a break.” you blushed. jack picked you up and gave you a huge kiss on your lips. 

“i don’t even know what to say. thank you so much, y/n.” he kisses you all over your face, which tickles you. 

“j-jack stop!!” you say while you bust out laughing. 

he puts you down and he gives you one more kiss before you let go and run to your room. you return with a cute pair of matching hello kitty pjs. 

“look what i bought us..” you smile mischivelousy. 

jack sighed and said “i’ll wear it just for you.” you jump up in joy, run up to him and hand him the pjs. 

“go change out of your dirty clothes.” you giggle as you walk to your room

—————— 

after you both changed into your pjs, you sit down in the fort and choose a movie to watch. “i’ll let you pick a movie first” you say. 

“you sure? you should pick since you’re the one who planned all this.”

“you’re the guest of honor though” you said. he paused for a moment, then let out a big sigh and shook his head. “finee.” he took the remote from your hands and searched for something to watch.

after about 10 minutes or so, jack finally picked a movie. star wars. you placed your head on his shoulder while he was munching on some snacks with one hand, and holding on to your waist with the other. he started rambling about star wars lore for almost half the movie, but you weren’t complaning. you loved when he rambled. you thought it was cute.

“y/n?” jack said as he turned his head towards you. you didn’t even realize that you had fallen asleep. “oh i’m sorry” you mumbled as you rubbed your eyes. you felt so bad for falling asleep on him like that. “no no, don’t be sorry love. you must be tired after doing all this.” he cupped his hands on your cheeks. “thank you for everything. i loved it” he gave you a soft smile and kissed your forehead. he layed your head on his lap, and you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“i love you forever and always, y/n.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

THIS WAS SO BAD OMG 😭

[kaimaciel]

A scene involving baby Lulu.

Afonso looking for the strange little boy that had been spying on him and would run away whenever he came closer. He gets deep into the forest and stops when he sees a vine placed horizontally. He chuckles at it

"oh wow, let me guess, once I stumble on this something will hit me right? Nice try kid." He avoids the vine and takes a few more steps before falling in a hole covered by foliage, luckily the only thing that gets hurt is his ego.

He looks up and there's a little head watching him from above. Alright, maybe the kid is smart enough.

Afonso looks up at the little face peeking from above.

"Olá, amiguinho. You have trapped me, fair and square."

The little boy remains where he is, Afonso can see the tip of a spear on his hand.

Afonso sits down on the hole, his pistol secured and hidden around his waist just in case. He stares at the little boy and smiles.

"So... what now? Are you going to stab me? Take me prisoner? Or wait until my strengh gives out?"

The little head frowns but remains silent and still, brown eyes fixed on Afonso's face.

"While you decide what to do, do you mind if I sing a little?"

Since the little boy remains quiet, Afonso starts singing.

"Ó malhão, malhão, *clap clap clap*

que vida é a tua? *clap clap clap*

Ó malhão, malhão, *clap clap clap*

que vida é a tua? *clap clap clap*

Comer e beber, ó terrim, tim, tim,

passear na rua. *clap clap clap*

Comer e beber, ó terrim, tim, tim,

passear na rua." *clap clap clap*

With the last clap, Afonso realized the little boy had clapped along with him and was now waiting having figured the song's rhythim.

Afonso sang the rest of the song and the little boy clapped along with him, first with a very serious expression on his face and then with anticipation.

As the song ended, he stared at Afonso expectantly. Could it be that he was sad the song was finished?

Afonso never had time to ask because the sounds of his men grew closer and the little boy gasped before disappearing back into the forest. As they pulled Afonso out of the hole, the older tan looked at the trees, wondering if his amiguinho was watching.

[laufire]

WRITING WOES: MARCH

in general

a few things conspired to slow down my writing (online course, sprained wrist that thankfully is alright now), but I'm still keeping up with my habit goals (get your words out in dreamwidth).

original fiction

I wrote ~3k words of Underground Elysium's first act (it'll have five acts total, though this doesn't say much as the lengths won't be consistent lol). I'm following Freytag's Pyramid for this one, Because of Reasons, so this is the "exposition + inciting incident" and I took a bit from this teaser I already had, but that's basically all of Act I complete (its first draft, at least; there's still a lot to be done in rewrites), so I'm proud.

I also set to finish with the drafting process for Petal Decay for this April's Camp Nano. I want to get that short story to a place where all I can do is get some outsider perspectives on it, before I know what to do with it moving forward.

fanfic

l wrote the first drafts of the first three chapters of my Young Justice WIP. I definitely have to go over them -this is the "introduction" part, where I'm practically rushing to get The Actual Story started lol, and some additions will be needed so they don't feel like I'm just eagerly jumping from point A to B to C etc. in order to get there. But I'm keeping up the rhythim I set for myself, which rn matters more. First I get the skeleton of the story out, then I add the rest.

I also wrote 5 out of 6 chapters of my Immortal Jason WIP (it's a 5+1 fic). The sixth one is resisting me smh. The premise shows various Bats finding out that Jason doesn't die, and the final chapter is, of course, Bruce's. So it's where everything comes to a head and I've built it up in my head as this... Thing. I'm going to let it rest for at least a week, maybe two, and then see it with fresh eyes.

Those (continue with the young justice wip as I've been, finish Immortal Jason & publish it) are basically my goals for this month, fic-wise. I also want to make more detailed outlines (although still leaving room for improvisation) for fics I'll tackle after I'm done with Immortal Jason and Petal Decay, like the Delena Marriage of Doom wip, or Journalist Dick. AND I want to write at least one of the scenes from my 5+1 Chalant one-shot (which is a "companion" to the young justice wip, so I want to have it ready when that's done).

[tainbocuailnge]

mesmerised by the rhythimic tail swinging. he keeps it still and close to his body in his default look

[clubatsumu]

Half filipino iwaizumi hajime who serenades you - harana - and would give you flowers and would court you no matter how long it takes just to hear you say 'yes'

definitely identifies as japanese more than anything -- and no one really knows he's half, really -- but sometimes he comes home to the insistence of his mother and grandmother, finds himself wishing he were staying for a few more days. starts to remember summer visits when he's nine years old. he's sullen at first about having to spend an entire summer away from oikawa, even though oikawa is annoying -- and having to spend it with other people he barely knows, which is, he tells his mother, even more annoying.

he meets you in the middle of their welcome home party. it's full of food he doesn't like, people who don't know the concept of personal space, a lot of jumbled words he doesn't understand. he's in the middle of a whirlpool, spinning on, and on, and on, bodies surrounding like water, when you come in: shoved, rather unceremoniously, in his direction. the rules that govern it are simple, really. ages? close enough. have you seen each other before? when you were toddlers. all is good, your mothers say. you've met each other before. go play with each other for at least two hours so the adults can drink and gossip.

you ask him, why is your name like that? saying it in english, because they ordered you to talk to him that way.

he answers, it's 'cause my grandpa is named hajime, in english too, because he's just following your lead here. yours is a tiny bit better than his, but you understand each other well enough, in that the-goal-is-to-play way kids do, and by the time you've invited him for a game of tag (which he knows, and is good at), then chinese garter (which he kind of doesn't understand the concept of when you bend your ankle that way, but gets it after you and the other kids on the street help him out), then luksong baka (which he takes to like fish to water, and remembers oikawa immediately, and promises himself that he'd ask him to play this the moment he got home).

you share an icepop from the tiangge, blue, because the red tastes like medicine, you say; you buy him gold coins, and his teeth get chocolate-stained by the time four o'clock rolls around, and a confetti of gold wrapper lays around your slippers, on the pavement; spits out his first-ever yakee, after the first bite, face contorted so much at the taste that you laugh, blowing out a bubble with your own.

he learns a new word that summer, retains one out of all the hundreds. his mother asks him who packed it on the plane back to miyagi, this word to bring back. he answers it was you. his mother smiles so largely, goes on a tangent about how she and your mother were high school classmates, and would get into all kinds of trouble together, which she isn't allowed to tell you about (they would steal flowers from the church, when they were younger, you said to him conspiratorily; then when they were older, would get drunk on tuba from someone's grandfather; you know this, you inform him, because of your amazing detective skills-- your aunts told you), then altogether forgets what his word was. then she remembers to ask him, just before their plane lands. tangina, he says proudly.

you told him it means good luck.

then the summers come and go. sometimes he comes back, sometimes he doesn't, until a rhythim falls. he visits every two years. the year he's twelve: you become shy, not at all like when you were nine. he becomes ... brash, in a way that covers his overly-gentle nature, the need to nurture people. he sits near you on the sofa, party in full swing, and the two of you don't talk for at least 30 minutes until he says, did you forget about me? and you answer, no, and everything is as it was, as it's supposed to be.

the year he's fourteen: you meet him about a week into his vacation. you were on vacation yourself with some of your dad's family, a couple of hours away. the moment you return though, you're at his house, knocking on his door, asking to see him. that year, he asks if they can stay for a week longer.

the year he is sixteen: you see him at a computer shop, those connected headphones that stick twined around his head, at seven in the evening. you know the guy behind the counter -- was a couple of years ahead of you in school, his mother was your teacher, his father's the second cousin of the sister-in-law of your third cousin -- so it's all really just one big happy family affair when you yank the (confirmed, stinky) headphones from his head and say, and not in english anymore, your mother was looking all over for you. she's out of her mind, and your grandmother is going to spit out a lung if she sighs one more time --! he knows what you mean well enough, from tone alone. the guy behind the counter sniggers, man, you shouldn't have paid for open time.

he refuses to be dragged out of his seat, though, because he fixes you with the most scathing glare you've ever come across, and says, says something you don't remember, really, but you can feel is him asking for five more minutes in the game. so you wait, hands across your chest, your hip on the counter. the game ends, and he reclines, -- i told them i'd play with my friends for a while.

your japanese friends? you ask.

i’m japanese, too, he reminds you, and you scrunch your nose, murmuring about how he’s never taught you any of the words—

he reminds you that his mother still doesn’t appreciate being called a son of a bitch, on that first plane ride.

give me your email, he commands. you lean into his space, replacing his fingers on the keyboard, as you click in your address. you’re not going to email me, probably, you tell him, bitter. he scowls even more.

you get a message from him a day after he returns home. the subject title reads, you’re wrong, and within it is a few pictures of a landscape entirely unfamiliar to you — clean air, winding pavements, a haze of cherry trees and cold colors.

you shoot him an email back. pictures of your school uniform, your dog, his grandmother in the middle of a game of mahjong — she’s swimming, you caption, look at her hands.

he returns: this is oikawa. he’s a shit.

you send a picture back of your friends, telling him, they all know about you. you’re kind of a legend here, hajime.

the exchanges are in contrasting in light. japan, to you, seems like such an ideal place, without discomfort. not at all like this island, where everything is hot and sticky, and dust keeps clinging to the windowsill.

you send him a link of a blurry youtube video, one of your surfing tournaments, you disappearing into the tunnel of a wave — look at my form! you say.

shiiiiiit, he replies, that’s so fucking cool.

your mothers don’t know you’re talking, still, exchanging emails and bits and pieces of places so far from each other, but by the time the summer of 18 comes, it’s like the two of you have never known separation. there’s something correct about it, about talking to each other — like talking to someone without fear of lack of understanding, like no matter how odd the topic, so removed, it would turn out all right.

you take him out to a bar, kind-of makeshift, with a karaoke machine at the center and plastic seats and laminated menus with dirt clinging to the edges, order a six pack of redhorse. he looks at you sourly when you take out your cigarettes, but he turns overly hostile when you scatter the ashes into the bottle, watching it fizzle to the bottom, he all but growls, you trynna die?

i can only afford six, you tell him, so we gotta get drunk quickly.

aren’t you supposed to be conditioning, he asks you.

tomorrow. promise. you cross your fingers. i’ll start tomorrow.

you spend the whole of tomorrow hugging the toilet seat, hajime with his arms on his hips, all smug at the back.

he makes your training his responsibility, and you’re driven to new heights of suffering, it takes a whole lot of self control to stop yourself from shoving his face into the sand. you dunk his head, and groan in frustration when it doesn’t budge.

he turns out to like isaw to an unhealthy degree, but would give you all his sticks if you asked for it. you consider kissing him in front of the sidewalk stall that sells barbecue, under the sizzling haze of smoke and oil clinging to shirts. you don’t though, but there’s a look on his face that tells you he wants to, too. but then where would it lead you? there’s no path for this, and the two of you are too active individuals to allow yourselves to be in a relationship made passive by the distance.

that summer is the last. he goes to california for college, the emails dwindle — you go to college, keep competing in tournaments, but never allow yourself to go pro. the mandated two-year visits stop. you get news about him from third-party sources, and all you do is respond politely. you get a nursing degree and start shifts at the local hospital, and sometimes you remember a childhood sweetheart you’ve never kissed, but by the time you sigh there’s another thing that occupies your mind.

by the time you’re 26, hajime’s cousin gets engaged, and family trickles back down to the roots to attend the wedding. you don’t expect him to come home — he’s too far removed, and his home and your home are not synonymous, but on your walk back home from a shift in the early morning, there he is, sitting on your doorstep.

did you forget about me? he asks, unsure, handsome and older, hands clasped together with his elbows at his knees.

you reply, smiling, no.

[cynthiaandsamus]

"Guh..."

"Guh!"

"Guh! Guh! Guh! Guh! Guh!!"

Rhythimic Guh-ing continues.

"GUUUUUUUUUUUH!!!"

"...okay she's done, let's go in."

[sounds-right]

Intervista a Steve Tosi: il mondo funky house di Acetone, etichetta in ascesa mondiale

Qual è il segreto del successo della vostra squadra, quella di Acetone, label in ascesa mondiale?

“Lavoriamo duro, con passione. Acetone punta a diventare un’etichetta con dei party dedicati, ed una identità ben definita. Dove il pubblico sa cosa ballerà durante quella serata. A dimostrazione che la funky house è un genere trasversale e che funziona alla grande, non solo nei club”.

Partiamo così, come i pezzi di Acetone, ovvero forte. Partiamo così intervistando Steve Tosi, uno degli artisti di punta di Acetone, etichetta creata circa 2 anni e mezzo fa da Maurizio Nari e Jens Lissat, a cui lo stesso Tosi dà un contribuito fondamentale. Riminese, classe ’63, il suo lavoro per Acetone si focalizza sulla produzione in studio. Con lui tra gli artisti di riferimento tanti talenti, tra cui Sandro Puddu, Giorgio V e Max Magnani... ognuno col suo sound. E c'è la costante crescita di Acetone radio show, che sbarca adesso su altre 200 radio in tutto il mondo. 

Ma come ha iniziato un vero esperto come Steve Tosi? 

La Riviera Romagnola negli anni ’80 come dj, “anzi, fine anni’ 70 – precisa Tosi – in pieno periodo afro, con la Baia Degli Angeli e il Cosmic”, poi tanta tribal nei primi 2000, e l’EDM col progetto Space Men. “Con Acetone – spiega – siamo concentrati su un suono funky house che funziona e porta risultati in termini di supporti, soprattutto all’estero”.

In Italia, invece, cosa succede?

“l’Italia fa poca ricerca, le sonorità sono sempre le stesse, e i locali hanno perso la loro identità. Noto una frammentazione eccessiva”.

Da quanto tempo è così?

“Da quando l’industria non fa i numeri di un tempo. Col digitale tutti suonano la tua traccia, ma solo una piccola percentuale l’acquista. E quel poco lo devi investire per far crescere il tuo progetto, cercando di tenere qualcosa per te. Ma è dura, con un numeri così piccoli. La musica cresce se c’è un investimento importante”.

Credi nel talento dei giovani, a differenza di altri.

“Conosco ragazzi, che si stanno unendo ad Acetone, con idee chiare e aperti alle contaminazioni. Sentono un pezzo e provano a migliorarlo. Penso ai bootleg, che oggi si possono realizzare semplicemente a casa, rispetto a quando, noi, dovevamo ingegnarci con i vinili. Non capisco perché molti veterani non si adeguino a ciò che fanno i più giovani. Con Acetone cerchiamo di essere vicini alla loro visione e alle loro idee.”

Con Nari hai da poco pubblicato, tra gli altri, “Set Me Free”, che si ispira a sonorità pop

“Maurizio Nari lo propone da qualche tempo nelle sue serate ed ogni volta il consenso è grosso. Siamo felici di questo. Pescando del passato, cerchiamo di proporre brani che siano ancora attuali, trasversali. E li rivestiamo con le nostre idee, col nostro gusto, in modo tale possano essere proposti nel club e piacere. Riprendere un pezzo del passato e cambiare giusto 2 o 3 cose non ha senso”.

Il pezzo house della vita?

“L’ultima volta che sono rimasto sorpreso è quando ho sentito, alla fine degli anni ’80, Rhythim Is Rhythim – ‘Strings Of Life’. Quella volta capimmo che la house aveva una marcia in più”.

E la house del futuro, come sarà, per Steve Tosi?

“C’è la afro house, un’evoluzione della latin tech, che sta prendendo piede in America. Ma il mondo è grande e fai fatica a prevedere cosa andrà tra due mesi. Quando produciamo con Acetone cerchiamo di essere sul pezzo, divertendoci”.

[mondoradiowmse]

01/24/24 Mondo Radio Playlist

Here's the playlist for this week's edition of Mondo Radio, which you can download or stream here. This episode: "Program Terminated", featuring classic Detroit techno and more. If you enjoy it. don't forget to also follow the show on Facebook and Twitter!

Artist - Song - Album

Cybotron - Cosmic Cars - Enter

Cybotron - El Salvador - Enter

Rhythim Is Rhythim - Strings Of Life - Innovator: Soundtrack For The Tenth Planet

A Guy Called Gerald - FX (Mayday Upgrade) - Automanikk

Rhythim Is Rhythim - The Beginning - Innovator: Soundtrack For The Tenth Planet

Reese & Santonio - The Sound - Faces & Phases: The Kevin Saunderson Collection

Inner City - Whatcha Gonna Do With My Lovin' (Def Mix) - House Masters: Frankie Knuckles

Pet Shop Boys - Go West (Kevin Saunderson Trance Mix) - Go West (Single)

BALL - My T.V. Is Broke - Period: Another American Lie

Jeff Mills - Changes Of Life - Waveform Transmission, Vol. 1

Jeff Mills - Jerical - Waveform Transmission, Vol. 1

Mad Mike - The Force - Death Star (Single)

Claude Young - Time Distortion - One Complete Revolution

Mad Mike - Death Star - Death Star (Single)

Underground Resistance - Riot - Revolution For Change

Octave One - Siege - The Collective

DJ Spooky Vs. Carl Craig's Innerzone Orchestra - Live Jam - Under The Influence: Mixed By DJ Spooky That Subliminal Kid

Hugh Masekela - The Boy's Doin' It (Carl Craig Remix) - Verve Remixed 3

Carl Craig - Suspiria - More Songs About Food And Revolutionary Art

FUSE - A New Day - Dimension Intrusion

Mickey Hart & Planet Drum - Umayeyo (Slakked Plastik Remix) - Supralingua

Drexciya - Habitat 'O' Negative - Neptune's Lair

Infiniti - Higher - Skynet

Eddie Flashin' Fowlkes - Move To Detroit - Black Technosoul

Electric Soul - X² - Techno Bass: The Mission

Aux 88 - The Countdown - Is It Man Or Machine

[cotidianom]

Techno detroit

[peysk]

Kyuukurarin, the song about a depressed girl who has to give up on getting with the person she loves, can't cope with the pain and kills herself has been added to Project Sekai, the mobile rhythim game, and its fans think it sounds just groovy ♬♫♪♬♫!