#that’s maybe a P-SOP record

[pkmn-smashorpass]

We really passing on the tentacled guy? Where my kinksters at

No wonder it went extinct :c

-🦀

Poor little guy

[hyuny-bunny]

skz + types of p*rn they watch (w/links) pt 1. hyung line

MDNI (+18) content warning: p*rn, nsfw links, mentions of rough sex, use of female anatomy, breeding, spanking, choking, fingering, oral (f receiving) most afab reader terms.

a/n: i'm a firm believer in x/twitter p*rn so for the sake of this they all watch twitter p*rn

pt 2. maknae line

chan: he's definitely watching twitter/x porn. as for what side of x he's on all depends on the mood. he definitely seems to stay on a more "vanilla" side. probably has a keen interest on size kink and breeding videos. but what they all have common is riding. it gets him so riled up seeing ones shot in cars because the next time he sees you it's all he thinks about. he'd love nothing more then to have you riding his dick, his hands holding your hips in place, eventually snacking a hand to lightly you choke and bunching your skirt in the other hand while you sloppily bounce on his cock. maybe he's taking you out to a nice dinner & movie but once your back in that car he's practically begging you to sit on his cock.

"baby, i need you so bad. come here, ride me, need to feel this pretty pussy on me."

breeding

riding

minho: there's so many things i could say about him. i don't think he necessarily needs porn to get off or actively looks for it, but i do think he loves being able to send you links that either remind him of the both of yours sexcapades or things he wants to do to you. i feel like he watches a lot of overstimulation, spanking, BREEDING, and just a sprinkle of voyeurism. i think he gets really turned on by the ones of girls in pretty lingerie wearing collars with bells, so every movement makes the bell ring. he almost collapses to his knees when he gets home one day to see you wearing the collar he bought, the one he'd been hiding and waiting for the right moment.

the only thing on your mind is the feeling of your sopping wet cunt being suffocated by minho's cock. he's got a fistful of your hair in hand, pulling you up from your pillow before landing a hard smack on your ass, never letting up on his thrusts.

overstimulation

spanking

changbin: another one in my books that loves size kink porn. not because i think he likes someone smaller, but more so the fact that he likes the feeling of being able to make someone feel so small. in seo changbins biceps, we trust. i think this one in particular will have him pleading with you to let him try it. you might feel reluctant because of any underlying insecurities at the though of feeling like you're "too heavy" (there's so no such thing to him) . it isn't till he's got you lifted up against the wall with no holding you either than his arms & shoulders, his mouth lapping away at your pretty cunt, any worries you ever had dissipated along with your ability to use your words.

"bin-binnie please i-i can't hold on much longer" a string of whines follow suit. he's been at it for a while and you've already had two orgasm but he's relentless. all you can hear are his groans and the squelching sound of his tongue abusing your cunt. he lifts his head up from between your thighs with you hand webbed in his hair, mirroring your worn out lustful look.

size kink

making you feel small

hyunjin: to me, i think hyun goes either of these two ways. he's the most depraved man known to walk this earth that loves it sloppy, messy, wet and downright lustfully filthy. the latter also leads me to believe he's not big on porn, prefers either his imagination or his OWN videos. one he's recorded (with your consent + encouragement) while you've done it together. he needs the passion of either love or the passion of wanting to make the either cum so hard they've gone to heaven (preferably both). if he's watching videos, his favorite ones always have the girl shaking and crying in pleasure by the end. he needs to see the passion, lust to be able to get off. when it's you, it's different, if anything it brings him back to those moments to fully remember the need between the two of you. that being said he's heavy into breeding/cumplay and semi restraining. he loves seeing the hands held behind the back and holding someone in place while they fall apart in his lap + cock.

it was supposed to be a quick kiss, which turned into heavy petting, and now he's brought your leg over his hips. the panties you were wearing discarded somewhere in the room, one arm is wrapped around you holding you tightly to his chest while his other hand is at work. his middle & ring finger are knuckle deep thrusting into you and he's groaning into your neck sucking hickies in all your favorite spots.

semi restraints

playing w you in his lap

[fidothefinch]

Paranoid

For Whumptober, Day 18: paranoia

Warnings: swearing, derogatory language, trapped in a room, Damian might be a little depressed but it’s not stated explicitly here

The rain pouring over the city lifted the smell of hot asphalt and stale urine to the roof Robin stood on, but it wasn’t bad enough for him to consider pulling his hood up again. Yet.

He needed his peripheral vision.

Damian scratched behind his ear. His neck was bothering him; a tickling feeling like hairs standing on end. He scanned the streets around him, he didn’t know for what, but found nothing to suggest anything was off.

Still. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched.

It was ridiculous; he was alone on patrol, alone in this sector of Gotham. Batman used to be more cautious of him being by himself, but lately. . .

He pressed the comm in his ear. Released it again, before the static caught up with the signal. He didn’t know who to contact. Father didn’t trust him. Timothy wished he were dead. Richard was. . . gone. And Alfred.

Alfred was gone gone. And it was Damian’s fault.

No. It only took one flash of the disappointment in his father’s eyes to harden his resolve. Robin would deal with this alone. He set his jaw, straightened his spine.

“I know you’re there,” he said. “Reveal yourself.”

The only sound that met him was the quiet hum of the rain. Damian swiveled his head, eyes narrowed, searching the shadows for any movement that would reveal the watchful figure. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.

“I know you’re out there,” he muttered. “And I’m going to find you.”

He took a running start and leapt off his roof, heading for a place he knew to be more secure. If anybody were following him, they would be forced to leave him alone, or else expose themselves.

When he sprint past an office high-rise, he thought he caught a glimpse of somebody following him in his reflection in the tinted windows. But when he turned, there were only the pigeons he had disturbed.

When he pivoted and grappled off a roof onto a fire escape, a shadow blocked out the light of the moon. But when he looked up, there was nothing there, the moon a dull yellow eye watching him from the low clouds.

He was being paranoid.

Once, when he had gotten several blocks away, he stopped long enough to catch his breath.

Somebody laughed.

He whipped around, unsheathing his sword in one smooth motion and bracing it in front of his body. “Show yourself!”

He waited, holding his breath for an answer. His hands tightened their grip rhythmically with his racing heart. He looked to the right and left, near and far.

The night air was still. Nobody was there.

Damian warily sheathed his sword. He was just being paranoid. The events of the last week had him on edge.

Even if his team didn’t trust him, Robin had been recruited for the last mission. A science experiment had gone wrong, in the Batcave, opening a portal. They hadn’t though anything of it at first, but after several minutes a figure had stepped through.

Batman had stepped through. Except it wasn’t Batman. It was a version of Damian’s Father with colder, calculating eyes. He wore sharp knives on his belt, and when he leapt to attack them, he aimed to kill. He had called himself Owlman.

It had taken them days to track him down and figure out how to send him back to his universe. Days spent questioning themselves. Questioning each other.

The memories left a sour taste in Damian’s mouth. Nobody had questioned when Timothy had offered to drug Owlman to keep him down while they figured out how to get the portal to open. But when Damian had tried to set a plan for the villain’s capture?

“No, Damian.”

“But—”

“I said NO.”

Damian wasn’t sure what had changed.

No. He did.

He reached his safe spot in record time, watching his back for every move. After his earlier outburst, his pursuer had given up on tracking him, it seemed. Still, it didn’t hurt to hang around and check things out.

No sooner had he found a comfortable place to settle than an arm wrapped around his neck from behind.

Damian let loose a squawk, more from surprise than hurt. He hadn’t heard a thing. He clawed at the hand around his neck, but after a moment of panicked fumbling, realized the arm was loosening.

And someone was laughing, behind him.

“Really got you good, huh?”

Damian froze.

That voice. . .

“Hey, Dami.”

He held his breath. It couldn’t be real.

The arms didn’t let go completely for another second, but when Damian was able to turn around he couldn’t find words.

It was Nightwing.

It was Richard.

Without a second thought, Damian leapt up and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s you.”

Richard laughed. It sounded slightly different, but Damian dismissed it. ‘Ric’ had smoked, right? Or something? That would change it.

Richard stepped back and gently peeled Damian off of him. Damian felt a twinge of hurt, but when he saw the smile on Richard’s face, it washed away.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Richard was beaming. Damian wished he would flip his lenses back so he could see his eyes. “Wow, I can’t believe you reacted like that.”

Damian stepped back at the words, ears heating in embarrassment. “I haven’t seen you in so long. I apologize for my behavior.”

Richard flipped a hand back. “It’s no problem.”

“You’re really back.” Damian looked up and down the Nightwing suit, his heart clenching at the lost familiarity of it, even if he couldn’t make out smaller details in the dim light of his hiding spot.

Richard held his arms out to the side, showing off the blue stripe running down his arms. “Yep.”

Damian cocked his head to the side. “Do the others know?”

Richard’s smile was lopsided. “Nope.” He popped the ‘p.’ “I wanted to tell you, first. You’re so special to me.”

Something in Damian’s chest loosened. Richard was back, and that meant at least one piece of his life was falling back into place. “I will notify Batman—”

“Wait.” A hand shot out and closed around Damian’s wrist, where it was poised over his comm unit. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Damian’s wrist flexed in Richard’s hold, but the fingers only squeezed harder, hard enough to pinch the small bones in his wrist together.

“Nightwing—”

Abruptly, the man let go. Damian tried to subtly shake his wrist out. Whatever he had been doing as ‘Ric’ must have made him stronger. He would never—

“Why don’t we head back to my place?”

Damian instantly forgot his worries. “In Blüdhaven?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Should we not head back to the cave? So you can see Batman?”

A hand landed on top of his head, a little too hard, and ruffled his sopping-wet hair. Damian pouted, reflexively lifting his hand to pat it back into place. Richard only smiled again, lifting his chin in an unfamiliar gesture he must have picked up as ‘Ric.’ His canines were sharp. “Sorry, Robin, I don’t really feel like seeing him right now. You get that, don’t you?”

“I suppose—”

“I just wanted to spend some time with you, before everyone else got involved.”

A warm feeling spread through Damian’s chest at the words. Richard wanted to spend time with him. It was a soothing balm against the burns of the last months’ torture. The ache caused by every barb from Ric and his family, the ache of lonely days sitting in the manor, was overshadowed by a few simple words.

Richard was back. And he wanted Damian.

Damian nodded. “I will come with you.” The words filled him with a giddiness he stamped down. No need for Robin to act irrationally. (Richard would see it, anyway, he was sure.)

Richard’s smile was wide. “Follow me.”

“I should tell—”

Richard rested a hand against Damian’s lips and hushed him. This close, Damian went cross-eyed noticing the differences in his hair and the light wrinkles around his eyes. He looked younger, like somebody who worried less. Maybe some time off really could help with healing.

“Don’t tell anybody,” Richard whispered. “It will be our secret.”

Something about the words sent a little warning bell off in the back of his mind. Damian leaned back, away from the hand. He and Richard had spent plenty of nights together before, sure, but the circumstances were different. “Batman will worry if I just disappear.”

Richard cocked his head to the side. His next two words fell like stones in Damian’s gut.

“Will he?”

Damian opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. The circumstances had changed. He wasn’t sure Batman—father—would even notice if he didn’t make it home.

He puffed up his chest. “Let’s go.”

  Ric’s apartment had been small, a mess of magazines and trash, clear of the clutter of pictures and sentimental knickknacks. An apartment clear of a lived life.

They took a motorcycle to a nicer part of town—Ric had insisted on living in the cheaper areas, despite Damian’s distaste—and they climbed a fire escape to the top floor and entered through a window.

This new apartment had all of the markings of Richard’s old life. The bookcase in the corner of the living room showed off frame after frame of pictures. One of Richard’s old sweaters, one that he had borrowed from Bruce and never returned, was slung over the back of his couch, obviously well-worn.

Something felt. . . off about the clutter. Everything looked freshly-dusted; the trash can was empty. Damian couldn’t put a finger on it. Richard had grown neater since his time as Ric, but maybe that was because he had cleaned up in preparation for Damian coming over.

The sound of a lock clicking shut made Damian jump. He turned around to see Richard pulling the window shut and reattaching an alarm wire from the inside. “I installed some new security here,” he explained. He flashed Damian that pointed smile again. “Nothing gets in or out of here without me knowing.”

Damian tracked the wire in the window along the wall. It, and the doors, and the other windows were all connected to several small alarms. “You have grown more cautious.”

Richard shrugged. “Getting shot in the head will do that to you, I guess.”

Damian flinched at the reminder. But, just like his hair had grown out long enough to completely hide his scar, Richard seemed unaffected by his own barb. “Great. I’m going to hit the showers.”

Damian turned around again. He was dripping onto the carpeting. “I need to change.”

“There’s a change of clothes that I think will fit you in the other room. I think Ric kept them around just in case.”

Damian stopped. “Really?”

Richard shrugged, not revealing whether he realized the impact his statement made. “Yeah.” He walked through his bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. “You can put your uniform in my safe. Nobody will look for it there.”

Damian nodded as the door shut. The sound of running water filled the room a moment later.

He found the clothes sitting out on the bed already, simple black sweats and a faded GameFriend t-shirt. He changed swiftly, not wanting to waste too much time on his Robin gear when there were months of time to make up for. He threw it into the open safe—under the bed, which was rather obvious, but it was only for the night so he didn’t worry about it—and shut it, happy to hear the click of it closing.

The clothes were soft and warm, and he made himself comfortable on the couch when he noticed that there was a video game console hooked up beneath the television. A stack of games sat next to it.

Because there was nobody there to see it, Damian smiled. For the first time in months, he actually looked forward to the night ahead of him. It would be just like old times; he would wait for Richard to return, and they would bet against each other on their video games, and Damian would tolerate the bad music that Richard played in the background, and Richard would listen to Damian complain about the rest of their family and the new team and understand what he really meant.

Damian missed being understood.

He made himself comfortable on the couch, tucking his feet up so his knees were bent under his chin. There was a throw over the back of the couch, and after only a moment of hesitation Damian slid it down and wrapped himself in it. He left enough room for Richard, of course.

It was taking longer than usual for Richard to get out of the shower, so Damian went ahead and set up the video game console. He looked through the games, too, pleased to find several of his favorites had made it to the cut.

His comm dinged at some point, and Damian cursed. He must have forgotten to turn it off in his haste to change, which seemed silly, now that he had so much time to fill. His comm dinged again, and Damian tutted, sliding to the carpeted floor silently and padding back over to the bed and the safe beneath it. It would keep them up all night, otherwise.

He mechanically entered the numerical code Richard used for all of his vigilante gear, but was struck when the lock’s screen flashed red. Wrong code.

Frowning now, he entered it again, assuming he had mistyped. But the screen flashed red again, accompanied by a loud buzzing sound.

Damian sat back on his heels. Richard had always used the same code, before. This was probably another symptom of the brain damage.

His comm beeped again, a series of chirps that told him somebody was trying to call him directly.

He huffed at the noise and at the safe keeping him from stopping it. But when he looked closer, he recognized a small fingerprint scanner set into the side of the safe, a lock you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it. A clever trick, to help hide his Nightwing gear in an obvious place.

Only Richard could open the safe. Damian would just have to wait.

He settled back on his heels, but suddenly realized the sounds of the shower had ceased. Now that he thought about it, it had been quiet for several minutes.

Richard never took that long to change, before.

The uneasy feeling he had had on the rooftops earlier returned full-force. Damian quietly rose to his feet and went around to each window, checking to make sure the locks were in place.

They were. He knew because he couldn’t open them from the inside.

He tried the front door of the apartment. The knob wouldn’t turn.

When he tracked the electronic locks to their beginning, he found the same fingerprint scanner as the one on the safe.

Richard was just being careful.

No.

Something was wrong.

Just as he had finished inspecting the lock, the bathroom door finally opened. Richard was silhouetted in the light, a black figure against the clean interior of the room.

Damian’s comm was still beeping. “Richard,” he called. “Open the safe so I can turn it off.”

Richard’s head tilted to the side. “I don’t think so.”

Damian froze. “What?”

Richard stalked forward slowly, at ease, and Damian took only one step backward before deciding to hold his ground. “Are you alright?”

“I am great.” But there was something implied in that sentence, a threat left hanging.

Damian stepped to the side, putting the couch between them. “I don’t understand.”

Richard laughed. “It was so easy to get you here, did you know that? Like offering crumbs to a dog.”

Damian’s hand flew to his hip, where his scabbard would be. But he had changed clothes, and in his trusting state he had locked all of his communication, all of his weapons away. “Richard. You’ve been compromised—”

“Oh, Damian,” and the word was drawn out in a sardonic way, “I guess you never had a chance, not with the way that bitch over at the League trained you.”

Damian flinched at the language. Richard had never—“Do not address my mother in that manner.”

“The Talia in my world was too soft to make a baby. When Owlman told me there was another one of us, I thought you would be a nice addition to his collection.” He sneered down. “But Talia’s goody-two-shoes rule-following was a mercy. She must have known what a pathetic mutt you would be.”

A sharp pain glanced through his chest. One of Damian’s hands rose to the spot, but there was nothing there. Just his heart, beating frantically under his fingers. He shifted backward, away from the looming threat, but his back met the couch.

Richard had him cornered.

“Willing to follow anybody home for a scrap of attention.”

“You don’t—” Damian cut himself off.

Because as Richard leaned down, his eyes, no longer covered by his mask, flashed gold.

“Hello, Damian.”

[voidendron]

The Outside: Chapter 55

Series Ask Blog: @asktheoutside

Chapter 55: News Chapter Warnings: Swearing POV: Chase Brody

March 23, 2031, 5:30 PM Los Angeles, California

“Look,” Chase said, “you two just need to… I don’t know, man. Just—stay away from each other? We’re all sick of your arguin’, and one of you’s gonna get hurt.” He didn’t turn to face the android as he scrubbed at a pan they needed for dinner.

The Septic could hear annoyed beeping from behind him as the only response.

Adjusting to two others now living in what had already been a crowded household was certainly a challenge. Sleeping arrangements had been enough of a hassle to figure out. They’d had to raise their budget on groceries, too. Nine people instead of seven? That was a lot of mouths to feed. Then there was the schedule for the bathroom in the morning, which was a whole different story entirely. They weren’t sure Anti could ever safely find a job due to his glitching, and Jameson likely wouldn’t unless he either perfected sign language or went to speech therapy—which he’d refused with an annoyed glare. It had taken some adjusting, to say the least.

The water in the sink sloshed when Chase dropped the pan; spilling lukewarm water and yellowed suds over the counter and floor. The Septic cursed when it landed on his bare feet to immediately soak his socks. At least that brought a snort from Bing that he very poorly covered up.

“Gross…” the father muttered as he leaned down to pull his socks off. He tossed them aside, grimacing when one almost slid under the fridge.

“Dude,” Bing’s boots squeaked over the now-wet tile as he went to retrieve the sopping socks, “the washer’s literally right here.” He was laughing as he dropped them into the top portion of the stacked machine that was way too close to the fridge for Chase’s liking. They couldn’t put anything on top of the fridge because of it! If the washer got off-center (which it did a lot when the kids tried doing laundry) it would knock against the other appliance and make anything on the fridge just. Fall off.

Chase just shook his head and tossed a grin over his shoulder.

“You’re hopeless, y’know that?”

“Yep!” He emphasized the “p” by slapping the water, only to splutter and reel back when it and suds flew up at his face.

“The Twins make less of a mess than you.”

“Yeah right.”

“They do!”

Chase made a distressed sound when his hat was pulled off from behind. He was sure it was Bing! That is, until he heard the android’s confused laughter. The Septic twisted around as best he could while keeping his hands over the sink.

Sophie grinned triumphantly up at him while the oversized snapback nearly fell over her eyes. Hadn’t she just been upstairs? He grinned at his youngest regardless.

Shaking his hands over the sink, Chase reached for the towel hanging on the oven handle to dry them. “Need somethin’, Sophe?”

She nodded so fast the hat about fell off. “Ky got a text. Jackie’s been trying to call you, and it’s important I guess?”

Chase’s brows furrowed at that. “You know what it’s about?”

“No. Seán just said it’s important and you gotta call Jackie like. ASAP.”

He hadn’t needed to say anything for Bing to take over finishing dishes, while Sophie had scampered right back up the stairs with the snapback still on. Chase had to wonder what they were doing up there. They were all quiet aside from the occasional laughter.

Running a hand through his hat-head, he pushed his bedroom door open. He had to squeeze between the two twin-beds now within to reach the nightstand where his phone was hopefully done charging, grumbling when he tripped over Anti’s shoes and the Velcro momentarily stuck to his sweatpants. It really was crowded.

Chase grimaced when he pulled his phone off the charger and saw a whole lot of missed calls from Jackie and all within the last few hours. Wasn’t it after midnight in Brighton? He carefully picked his way out from between the beds and seated himself at the foot of his own.

Finding Jackie’s contact, it barely rang once before the hero answered. “Chase?” The way his voice cracked made Chase’s breath catch in his throat. Had Jackie been crying? Was he still crying? “It—it’s Marv—oh god, Chase—”

“Hey, hey, easy!” He swallowed. Jackie’s voice was raw and raspy, and Chase could hear him choke on a sob on the other end of the line. “Jackie, easy. Y’said Marv. Everything okay?”

“N-no. He’s…he’s not—not doin’ well.” A shaky breath. “Please find a way here? Please? We don’t…we don’t know if—if he’s gonna make it.”

The phone nearly fell from Chase’s hand. He…he hadn’t heard that right, had he? He swallowed, choking on his own spit. There was no way he’d heard Jackie right. Absolutely no way. “J-Jackie…what do you mean?”

“I mean he might die!” Jackie tried so hard to yell, to drive it into Chase’s head, but his voice broke at the end as he sobbed into the speaker. “Y’don’t…h-he…”

“What…what the hell happened, man? You c…you can’t be fucking serious?” Chase had to blink away his own fearful tears. Marvin? Dying? He couldn’t…how could that… “What happened?”

Muffled sounds came from the other end, and the voice to speak up wasn’t Jackie’s, “This is Bim.” He sounded tired, but not as though he’d been crying like Jackie. “Marvin had an accident with his magic.” Bim’s voice was soft, sad, but far too even. How could he be so calm? “He was trying to track Schneeple,” Chase’s heart clenched at that, “and something happened. We don’t know what, just that it involved fire and he’s badly burned. We just know he’s not doing well. I…” Bim paused; Chase could hear him sigh softly. “I’m surprised he even made it to the hospital. He’s in surgery now, but we don’t know if he’ll survive to morning.”

“But…” His breath shuddered as he scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “He can’t be…”

“I’m going to contact Wilford. Seán and Jackie want you and Jameson here. They want Anti, too, but…we can’t risk him glitching something at the hospital. I’m sorry, Chase.”

The call ended, and Chase found himself shaking as a sob wracked his body. That…it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be true. It was just…some bad dream. He was imagining it, he had to be! He’d just…he’d fallen asleep on the couch, surely! He’d sat down for a moment, only to take an unplanned nap. He’d wake up and call Marvin in a panic, only for the magician to be fine, if annoyed at being woken up at three in the morning.

He didn’t know how long he sat there before Bing came rushing into his room. Had Bim told him?

The android didn’t say anything as he sat down and looped an arm around Chase’s neck. He leaned into Bing’s chest, uncaring that his tears left a spot on the Iplier’s shirt. Bing didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t need to. Instead, his core rumbled softly; a deep hum within his chest that Chase shut his eyes to. It was always such a calming sound. Chase tried to focus on that as he evened his breathing.

“What if—what if he—”

“Don’t.” Bing combed his fingers through Chase’s hair. The father couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “He’s survived as long as he has ‘cause he’s not human. Just keep believing he’s gonna make it.” He ruffled Chase’s hair and stood. “I’m gonna go talk to James and Anti. Why don’t you pack a few days’ worth of clothes? Wilford’ll be here when he gets off work.”

The silence to hang in the living room was suffocating after the news had been delivered to the others. Sophie had curled into her dad’s side with tears staining her cheeks while Chase wrung his cap in his hands. The Brody kids would be staying with Bing, Yan, and the Twins, and Chase wasn’t sure he liked that notion. He’d never been away from them for long, but he also didn’t want them seeing whatever shape Marvin was in.

“How long are you gonna be gone?” Kyler asked. His eyes were red, but he’d stopped crying before going downstairs to join the others.

“I dunno, buddy.” Chase leaned back into the couch and ran a hand through Sophie’s hair. “Maybe a week? Few days? And I’ll call every night, and keep you updated on…o-on Marvin,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, “okay?” Both kids could only nod.

It wasn’t long before Wilford appeared in a cloud of glitter in the kitchen. Chase wanted to be shocked by the brown mustache, and frustrated at the glitter Bing and the Twins would end up trying to clean up, but he couldn’t find it in himself to so much as glare at the Iplier. He just wanted to get to Brighton.

“James, c’mon.”

The younger Septic stood, and the two of them shouldered their bags. Poor Jameson didn’t even have it in him to speak, and his aura kept pulsing around him to leave him looking like an old film. Chase placed a hand on the back of the younger’s neck, and the look Jameson gave him about broke his heart.

Wilford’s aura made Chase’s stomach churn as the two stepped close to the Iplier. He already felt sick, like he’d throw up from all the crying. He didn’t need the too-sweet smell of the bright aura assaulting him to make it worse. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the nauseating weightlessness of teleporting, reaching to hold Jameson’s arm to ground both of them when their feet hit solid ground.

They were in Seán’s dining room when Chase opened his eyes again. Both dropped their bags and ran for the living room, practically tripping over one another. Their creator was on his phone outside what used to be his recording room, Bim pushing past them to speak with Wilford. The King was nowhere to be seen, but Jackie lunged to his feet as soon as he saw them. The hero was shaking when they pulled him into an embrace.

“Seán’s talkin’ to someone from the hospital,” Jackie murmured. His voice was so muffled against them that Chase barely heard him. The hero had one hand closed into such a tight fist that his knuckles were white, and Chase grabbed that hand; squeezed it like Jackie had done for him so many times before. “We ha-aven’t heard anythin’ s-since they took ‘im away. What if he…what if he didn’t—”

Chase tucked the hero’s head under his chin. “Just…just keep hoping. C’mon.”

With Jackie there, it was odd to know Chase was the one taking the lead into bringing the other two to the couch. From there, there really wasn’t much they could do but sit and wait. Chase felt helpless. More helpless than he had for a long time.

Marvin was in surgery. What if he didn’t make it? If he did, what sort of recovery process would there be? It couldn’t be easy, whatever it was. Not when the damage was as extensive as it had to be to make them fear for his life.

Keep hoping. That was…all they could do. Chase swallowed and leaned his head against Jackie’s; twitched his fingers when Jameson’s aura touched them and turned them gray. The father could Feel the fear, the sorrow, the anxiety, permeating the room; even from Bim when the former host returned to take a seat when Wilford left. The Iplier seemed so calm, but Chase could Feel his worry for the magician. He even Felt guilt around him. Was it from Jackie, or their creator? Perhaps both.

Keep hoping. Think about the process of recovery for Marvin; not his funeral. Be right here for Jackie, Chase thought. Be right here, to hold him for whatever news came.

Chase glanced up at a change. Relief, mixed in with all those other emotions, as Seán tucked his phone away and entered the living room. He sat heavily next to Bim; hair disheveled and bags under his eyes, but the relief was from him. Chase could see it in his creator’s eyes.

“Marv’s stable. In bad shape, but h-he’s gonna make it! We can see ‘im in a few hours, when the hospital’s open for visitin’ hours.” Seán smiled, tired and strained, but smiled nonetheless. “He’ll be there a while, but he’s alive.”

[vidaspinkevicius]

Yesterday In the morning I shared a report about the day before. After breakfast Aušra recorded a lot of melodic dictations to her YouTube channel and I worked on my blog and Patreon uploading Allemande in C Major by J.L. Krebs. Then I helped her to create mass-edit the videos and create different playlist for different level dictations. After lunch I recorded Courante in C Major by Krebs and shared with my Patreon supporters. Published Hilf Gott, dass mir's gelinge, BWV 624 with fingering and pedaling. Received news from Thomann online music store that my MIDI pedalboard and organ bench have been shipped today. In the evening Aušra and I watched Stranger Things on Netflix. This series is starting to captivate us more and more. My YouTube channel views has grown 18% percent in the last 28 days. I think it’s a healthy trend. If this growth rate continues after a year I could be earning around $50 per month fro YouTube. Also I received a notification from Twitch that my channel has been promoted to affiliate status meaning I could livestream and start earning some additional revenue. Not sure if it’s a path for me though. Already too many things on my plate. Maybe I should concentrate more on things that are already working for me (YouTube, Patreon, Creary, Steem, Hive, SOP, Amazon affiliate program) than chasing additional avenues. https://www.instagram.com/p/B-JQLIaApbs/?igshid=uvftni1bk0bl

[reuxben]

This was our MTGinktober for “Ship,” starring Precinct Captain and its corresponding Soldier Token!  Yes, I totally ship them--I have seen it. Seen the end, seen the beginning, the beginning of the end--and I have the photos to back it up, which I collected over the years during my time in the Boros Legion.

Relax, spare me the “thank you for your service” stuff, I was just a Legion photographer.  I never saw combat.  Though I did get a papercut once, which technically qualified me for a Purple Core signet--and don’t get it mindtwisted, “technically qualified” is the best kind of qualified, though I grant you that paranoia’s all I got left on that theory.  Look, I wanted to go to photography school, but figured it’d be smarter to do the Boros work-study program in the Arts and Propaganda (A&P) department, since I could study photography, do nominal but obligatory (and minimal) soldier stuff, get out after my term was up, and then use that sweet, sweet Boros bonus to start my own studio.  They were desperate for recruits back then (no idea what it’s like nowadays, don’t really keep up), so they just threw money at unguilded chumps to enlist. 

I should note this was during the disastrous “Feathernomics” period of exorbitant deficit spending on recruitment and propaganda, which is why I had it so good as a new enlistee in the A&P department (our nickname was “Twinkle Toes Company.”  Other companies did that “OOH-Rah! OOH-Rah! OOH-Rah-Rah!” chant you always see in the spectacles, but they’d shout “OOH-Lah!” at us, as in “Ooh-la-la.” It was stupid.).  So I wasn’t exactly Agrus Kos, ok?  Just a photographer too cheap to go to a proper art school and aware enough to take basically free money for the inconvenience of doing all that idiotic marching and saluting nonsense while having to dress like 80,000 of my closest friends. 

But today is a salute to just two of these fellow marching enthusiasts.  I can’t believe it never really clicked until I was going over some old photos from back in the day as research for an upcoming project (I’m doing a pictorial book on daily Boros life, plug plug plug), but I kept seeing these two doofs together in photo after photo, so here’s what I remember:

I wasn’t terribly close with anyone in the service, (again, just there for the [essentially] paid education), but my staffbook confirms the guy’s name is Sten Scott, the girl is Tev Pres.  I was embedded in the Ravnica 254th Precinct Corps to cover them for one training cycle to simulate wartime conditions, so I had to be a fly on the wall and they had to pretend I didn’t exist, meanwhile I was popping up out of bushes and from under eaves, snapping photos like a filthy Hazoret. These guys were part of the newest wave of recruits and the earliest photo I found of them was right after they presumably first met at the orientation party for new enlistees in the Noble 254th, which is why they’re in their full cadet uniforms.

Scott was nervous because he didn’t know anybody and wasn’t really gelling with anyone, but Pres was super outgoing and forged a fast friendship.  She was the life of the party, especially a party of two, so that’s why I remember wanting to follow her around at the party because she got all these great reactions from people, which made for great candid shots--I hate static, posed shots, is there anything more pointless? 

Scott was from a higher up family, but I gather he was running from his roots since the 254th is known for being comprised of, shall we say “less financially-secure” families?  He definitely didn’t talk about his family life, that’s for sure.  For my own curiosity one night, I do recall pulling his file for “research” (Twinkle Toes credentials has its perks), and yeah, his family was pretty loaded.  He should have been in Champagne Company like all the other snots.  His file says he was indeed placed there originally, but filed a transfer request before he even arrived on campus.  And they granted it.  Curious.

Pres came from a larger family, according to her file, so that’s probably where she got her more outgoing personality, necessarily screaming over siblings to get a word in, and being generous in her affection for those close to her.  254th families are famously close-knit because for many of them, they need their families jealously looking out for each other in order to survive their rougher districts.  That’s why they call it the “Noble 254th,” there’s so much pride in that Corps: their motto is Fogi di Pesn to Nobus di Regi, “The fire of peasants and the nobility of kings.” 

So Pres was like your best friend set to eleven, everything was amplified with her, like she didn’t want an ounce of life wasted.  She obviously sticks out in my memory more than Scott, but as a “professional,” I tried to maintain my impartiality in my daily rounds of covering the 254th, but judging by my catalog, I invariably found myself gravitating towards photographing her and by extension Scott since these guys were like two shells in a Mortarpod ever since that orientation party.

I’ll briefly address here that there was always that controversial aspect of the Noble 254th.  Honorable in conduct, but always with that iffy aftertaste of perpetuating the cynical cycle of the poor fighting rich men’s battles, who would rather send their kids to various Azorius schools for legal training, or if they must enlist in the Legion, then they’d cut straight to higher-placed officer training, like the aforementioned “Champagne Company,” which of course had the widest outbreak of “bone spurs” you’d ever come across.  Those poor, delicate orchids.  Yeah, I’m one to talk, twinkle twinkle.  Regardless, I never heard of anyone rejecting Champagne placement before--nor did anyone else since Scott conveniently never brought it up. 

Anyway, the photo under the one from orientation is from boot camp.  You always went on IPT (Independent Physical Training) with a buddy to spot you, and these two randomly got paired that first week--pairing was random the first three weeks, after which you elected your buddy having had a breadth of experiences with fellow Legionnaires--I do respect the Boros embrace of the perfect balance of randomness and order, as dealing with these factors is a necessary life skill they make sure you master, even we Twinklers. 

I remember this day of IPT pretty well because I love the rain and we all got entangled in this one, despite my otherwise stellar ability to stay out of subjects’ ways.  Pres got caught in a sudden downpour during an IPT session, but fortunately Scott had brought an umbrella for that day since, unlike his more spontaneous colleague, he had actually heeded the morning’s weather intel.  She promised to pay more attention next time and gave a hug of relief to her trusty backup “fuddy-duddy-in-chief” (I believe was the rank she ascribed him, even addressing him in written communications as FDIC Scott rather than his proper rank).  He sheepishly brushed off all credit to the umbrella, as if it were only randomly packed in his supplies that day, and he only perfunctorily lectured her about compromising the rescue mission by getting him just as soaked as her when she rested her sopping wet head on his shoulder. 

We were all packed under an awning or something when I snapped this photo, and this is where I got the impression they might have something going on, looking back on these old photos, though to be fair, most people I talked to think it was just her being naturally more tactile, and him being over-prepared as always and being unable to handle *Solemn Simulacrum voice* hu-man e-mo-tions (he definitely chilled out the more they were together, though, and these photos certainly capture how comfortable he felt around her).  I dunno. I do know they became pretty much inseparable after that, and were always on the same squad, obviously did their future elected IPT together, everything. Again, easily just that “spirit bond” soldiers get, but come on.  Look at them.

I mean, during Rec Day, the 254th’s annual mid-bootcamp morale festival, they of course hit up the photobooth and snapped all these cheesy buddy shots.  Before you ask, I processed the photos, so I have a copy in my records--I didn’t mug them for these like a Bramble Creeper, all right?  Anyway, again, I guess you could flip a coin on this photo-roll as evidence, pro or con.  They were pretty close by then, half-way through bootcamp, spending bloody, sweaty, and teary hours upon hours together, so maybe it’s just them being pals, having achieved dat soulbond doe. 

Real talk, though, that’s how the Boros gets you.  They lure you in with some attractive benefits package, you build these absurdly strong bonds with your partner or squad, and then you end up re-upping after your term is up, signing longer and longer contracts, and before you know it, you’re off fighting for some rich, bloated Orzhov oligarch who doesn’t even know who you are and would without hesitation send you to die to secure him a greater tax cut or clear out unguilded protestors who figured out what’s up, etc. The house always wins if you play long enough.  Twinkle Toes Company is full of artists and diva creatives, so the turnover is higher, thus we don’t suffer from that unfortunate development of blind obedience.  Besides, who would ever trust an artist on anything worthwhile? Seriously. 

The last photo is from their commencement ceremony afterparty, I was on photography duty of course, so all photos got that dumb, overly formal, commemorative dressing at the bottom.  As meh as I am about the Boros, or the guilds in general--it’s all a scam, man, every guild is just out for your cash in the end, yes, even the Gruul (if you think Bobo ain’t gettin’ paid, wow, I’ve got a Planar Bridge I’d like to sell you)--regardless of all that, I thought it was cool to see them in their formal uniforms at long last.  Even I get a little emotional seeing companies finally don their fray apparel, ok?  It’s the spectacle of it, I guess.  I’m a photographer, I appreciate visuals.  But I mean, who doesn’t get caught up in all that?  Be human.  Or whatever. Goat people, whatever you call them.  You know what I mean. I just had the good sense to get out when my contract was up.  I shredded my guild card and have been living just peachy out here unguilded, though I do collect my vet check every month. Thank you for your postal service.   

The last document...I won’t tell you how I got it.  I won’t tell you who wrote it.  I will say though...how many letters do you write to mere friends like that?  It turns out that commencement party photo was the last time they ever saw each other because, as far as I know, one of the two found this letter slid under-door the next morning and meanwhile the other was already off on a separate assignment on a totally different plane.  No transfer requests in the file, nothing. Silence.

Even if you know you’ll never see them again by virtue of the sheer time and space imminently separating you...Do you ever tell your friends you love them?  Ought you to?  Am I just an emotionally stunted photographer living vicariously through my subjects, being unable to live life myself, and can only rely on the fantasies I invent about the vivacious people I cover to bring me any semblance of a satisfactory life? Don’t answer that.

Love,

Thanks,

Click this post’s Source link for this piece’s Making-Of.

More MTGinktober here.

Daily art updates on Instagram and Twitter.

Not normal,

Reuxben

[superdwightandnicoleblogus-blog]

Learning Hip Hop With Instrumentals

What has happened to hip hop music? I have seen a disgraceful turn for the worse on my tv screen, but let's review some real hip hop music.

We will stick to only albums dropped recently. Needless to say, I highly recommend of all of these albums. I am not going to criticize any of those albums. Simply because there's already a million people who have done so - with or without justification.

Let's get started with the "Conscience Rapper" Common. I wish we didn't need to use that specific terminology to categorize the rapper because all rappers should be conscience. It's basically the definition of hip-hop.

Common - Finding Forever

From the incredible "unforgivable" all the way to the radio smash hits, "The People" and "The Game" (no similarity to the west coast rapper at all) ", this album is worth your purchase.

Common puts together rhymes like a puzzle. Each piece being essential as the last. He uses intricate rhyme schemes, but still gets his point across in the most immaculate manner.

Frequent exchanges punchlines with Kayne West on "Southside". My favored collaboration between the two; up until this point. Kayne also produces this track as he does most of the album. West spits at the top of his game while spitting lyrics e.g. "I know you must be thinking its armorall flow because it never gets rusty". Common on the other hand spits amazing lyrics himself, for example: "Your career was a typo, mine was written like a haiku."

Though Common never comes out and blames the south for hip-hops decline ( that he mentions a multitude of times) the following lyric from "Start the Show" could be subject to misinterpretation, "You sing along wit it, inside you knowin it's wack, Young who? I don't need a openin act". Common never backs down from a fight. In addition, he mentions the lack of hip-hop spirit in the song "The Game".

Is this Common's best work? I don't know. I personally like it better then his final album. Be had a very different ambience to it though. I guess, we should give credit to Kayne.

I understand this album could be perceived to have a few lackadaisical songs. Unlike fox news, I do give the other side. A counter perspective is available at Nobodysmiling [http://www.nobodysmiling.com/hiphop/album_review/87760.php]

Talib Kweli - Ear Drum

Talib's recent effort has sixteen tracks that will fulfill any fans need for one more album from the rap superstar.

He spits some of his most intellectual and deep thinking lyrics to date in "Ear Drum".

Electrify one of the most soulful tracks on "Ear Drum" is perfectly branded as it will electrify you. Notably your mind as the majority of the record does.

The guests help the momentum of the album more than they hurt it. Demonstrated in songs like "Hostile Gospel" with Bun B and Pimp C, who seem to fit in very well in the banger by Just Blaze.

If Talib had to take it back to square one. I'm speaking about the hip-hop classic "Reflection Eternal". He definitely took a couple of paces in the right direction.

I'll complete the review by saying that the album isn't perfect, but perfection is in the beholder.

Brother Ali - The Undisputed Truth

Brother Ali probably would get his mic cut off by Bill O Reilly with his very open minded views on America. Actually more times than less, pessimistic views.

A "Letter From The Government" basically denounces the whole war. Ali blatantly states in the chorus, "I got a letter from The government that the other day I opened and read and burned that guy, The way that I live don't concern that guy, We gon' need to settle this way". I guess he might also be talking about any chance of a draft and his response. Maybe just a letter asking him to join the military. Nevertheless, one of the most intriguing songs that's been released this year.

The underground artist doesn't stop there with his attitude towards America. Yes, his home country. On the track "Freedom ain't free". He annihilates our foreign policies. Especially when it comes to people that are starving in other countries. "So I use blood and sweat to butter my bread, Cos this cold world couldn't give a fuck if I'm fed".

If you are a liberal, you will most likely take well to this album. He doesn't like the war, he doesn't like our foreign policies, and he doesn't like how Muslims are being treated. He claims to be a devout Muslim in a few tracks.

If this album doesn't force you to sit back and think. You may want to get your brain examined.

El P - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

Honestly. What can I say about this album that hasn't been repeated a million times. This is a monster underground album. Among the biggest in the history of hip-hop. You haven't heard of it? Funny, isn't it? If you like Mike Jones, I recommend you don't check out this album, if you're a real hip-hop fan, it's a must!

Nas - Hip Hop Is Dead

I don't think anyone else has said this, but hip-hop needed this album. Not because it has the best work by my man Nas, but because we needed the history lesson. I learned a lot from this album, I didn't even know.

In addition, it gave me the motivation to go back and play a few of those old albums. How much dust does your "Mc Shan" records have on them?

We need to remember our roots, which is a perfect segway for my next album.

The Roots - Game Theory

The Roots put together an album that flows together like Rakim and Eric B.

You won't skip a track on this cd. I can guarantee you that. Black Thought isn't even on top of his game. Am I the only one who finds that unbelievably scary?

The Roots are breaking ground in hip-hop. Although it's underground in general, It's ultimately refreshing.

Ghost Face - More Fish + Fishscale

I am absolutely exhilarated to get all this new Ghostface material. Though he has never been type to Hip Sop Songs have a break from rapping. He comes back, probably full fledged with these two near classic albums.

Still spitting as mean as you would expect. If you would like to learn to be an emcee. Study every move of Ghostface.

Killah Priest - The Offering

Although the album isn't officially out. It did leak. I have heard nothing but positive reviews. I think this might be his very best work to date.

The album also includes some fantastic artists like Canibus, Ras Kass, Kurupt, and Immortal Technique.

Canibus - For Whom The Beat Tolls

I might take some heat for including this album in my list, but Canibus returns to his previous self. I couldn't be happier. He's still one of the greatest lyricists in the game. Never demonstrated better than on his 400 bar track, "Poet Laureate Infinity

Free rap music is everywhere online nowadays, providing hip hop fans a chance to really explore the genre like never before. In this article I'll show you a whole slew of places you may discover free rap and hip hop tracks online that will keep you up to date with the freshest music out there today.

The first place is an excellent site named Pandora, which allows you to personalize your own radio station based on your preferences. For instance, you can make a radio station based on Jay Z, and Pandora serves up a list of tracks that are similar in style to Jay Z. When some tracks will be familiar, there'll also be those moments where you enjoy a monitor from a group you've never even heard of before.

That is possibly Pandora's greatest accomplishment: it offers free rap music that may not have been heard otherwise. Pandora also allows you to vote for songs since they're played and adjusts its recommendations accordingly. I'll run Pandora in the background while at work or at home, and absolutely love the service.

Another excellent resource for rap tracks is Jamendo. This website allows you to search by genre and license. So if you're looking for royalty free rap music, this is a great place to get started. If you aren't searching for beats to rap over, you could always just surf the website for new tracks. Jamendo can also be used in conjunction with Pandora. If you discover a rapper on Jamendo, you can seek out related rappers on Pandora (or vice versa).

A buddy of mine started using YouTube as a radio station. Last time I was at his house he had a whole assortment of Outkast songs- some with videos- going on in the background during a party. As you do have to manually switch from 1 song to the next, YouTube has a massive database of rap tracksthat can be used indefinitley. Additionally, it provides you a chance to see videos for songs (most of which never get any airplay on TV).

These 3 sites are certainly the resources for hip hop fans searching for free tracks. They also give fresh content regularly, which helps listeners stay current on where hip hop is headed. I highly recommend you get online and start seraching these websites for some killer free rap music.

In the early 1970s, the cultural movement of hip hop music was born. Hip hop's fast paced music style is made of two parts; the rhythmic delivery of rap and the use ofinstrumentation by a DJ. Hip hop music also brought with it a fashion of its own, the fashion helped to represent this newly created music.

Hip hop music has its roots from West African music and African-American music. The first rap song to be put on a vinyl record was, "Rapper's Delight", a song by the Sugarhill Gang back in the 1970s. This is when block parties started becoming the norm in New York City, which gave hip hop and rap the chance to explode in popularity. Hip hop's instrumentation came from funk, R&B, and disco, when combined together make this dynamic type of music. When the DJs at these block parties learned what the people liked, they began mixing these vinyl records and created music that played continuously with amazing transitions between

songs. Hip hop was actually created by a DJ named Kool Herc, a Jamaican that had moved to the United States of America with a style that consisted of mixing music by using two Copies of the same record. Many of the poor Jamaican's in the town couldn't afford vinyl records, so huge stereo systems were set up so that many could here the rhythmic beats. These stereo systems were the kick-off for the beginning of the

evolution of block parties. So with the musical talent of these amazing DJs, by means of vinyl record mixing, the culture of hip hop and rap music was born.

History of R & B

R&B, which stands for Rhythm and Blues, was the greatest influence on music around the world for the majority of the 20th century's second-half. Rhythm and Blues is a term with a wide sense, but typically recognizing black-pop music. This type of music was introduced to the world by artists' combining the music styles of jazz and blues. R&B is actually what was later developed into what we know as rock and roll.

In the 1970s, the term R&B was being used to describe soul and funk music styles, which today we know that it describes Rhythm and Blues. Along with being influenced by jazz and blues, R&B also had influences from gospel and disco music. Disco's downturn in the 1980s opened the door for R&B to truly take-off in popularity.

Learning how to make hip hop beats isn't an easy process. It is often quite convoluted and complicated. But if you have patience and a desire to learn, then let me tell you, nothing can keep you from succeeding. All it takes is passion and a desire to learn. As you would like something passionately, then nothing can stop you from pursuing to discover some more.

Learning the Ropes

The first thing that you will need to remember while learning how to make hip hop beats is that there are no rules! Yes, you got that right; there are no rules to making fantastic hip hop beats. You need to run wild with your imagination and you'll have a excellent bit of music just like that. Also, you need to begin developing your listening ear. Look at the most mundane things for inspiration - kitchen sounds for example! Nobody appears to notice the most ordinary humdrum these days because most individuals are busy chasing the grand. Then it is time to refresh and experience for the first time what you always hear daily.

A useful tip when it comes to figuring out your beat is to start with the drum track. Why? Simply because it provides a frame of reference around which you can work and since drums are such an essential part of hip hop beats, what better instruments to start with? Thereafter you can build on that.

If you're a beginner learning how to utilize your beat making software, before you begin anything, understand how the program works really well. This saves you hours and hours of time and also helps you make better music. Hip Hop is basically based on loops so pay special attention to the loop features of the program.

It's also wise to remember, while figuring out your beat that most hip hop beats are around 4/4. This usually means that there are about four beats per bar, but beats with 2-8 beats per bar can also sound great. Like I said, there are no rules, so don't do what your best friend is doing, simply to fit in! Do something experimental, something no one has done before. Express yourself while you develop the beat.