#flint rap

[y3kmagazine]

Music Video: G.T. - 'Big Head'

You see them every year, marching down Woodward Avenue in all their glory during America's Thanksgiving Parade. Detroit star 'G.T.' has nearly 100k views in 4 days on his new music video 'Big Head.' G.T. has made serious moves all 2023, excited to see what he does 2024. Money Counter music

[comicwaren]

From Amazing Spider-Man Vol. 6 #060

Main story by Zeb Wells (W), John Romita Jr., Scott Hanna and Marcio Menyz (A)

“Doctor’s Orders”, by Zeb Wells (W), Ed McGuinness, Mark Farmer and Marcio Menyz (A)

“Team-Up: Part Two”, by Zeb Wells (W), Todd Nauck and Rachelle Rosenberg (A)

“Bubs”, by Zeb Wells (W) and Paolo Rivera (A)

“Same Spider-Channel”, by Zeb Wells (W), Patrick Gleason and Edgar Delgado (A)

“Ride’s Over”, by Joe Kelly (W), Mark Buckingham and Edgar Delgado (A)

[c16h14n2o]

[kushblazer666]

bitch pussy was talking too loud i had to pipe it down

[aktionpak]

Rio Da Yung Og Story

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C31k4UkHWiA

[theonegod420]

Ghetto Free !!!! 💯

[freshthoughts2020]

🔥🔥

[pilesofbooksandbeats]

Yet another album that’s not for everyone,that’s for sure! This album is recommended for people who like that underground sound! No club songs,no love songs,just that uncut raw reality rap!

[royaltyrules816]

Happy Birthday Mc Breed

[hackeyog]

New music every Friday. Sub to the Youtube & follow me on Spotify to stay plugged! For everything Hackey OG, follow this link -

https://tap.link/HackeyOG

[gebbzsteelo]

Motëm - Reality Bytes

[phoenixblair666]

When It Rains It Pours

|Logan Howlett/Wolverine X GN!Reader|

This is a headcanon about Logan x GN!Reader, set during the first X-Men Movie. Reader has similar powers to Storm, having the ability to control water and rain. Logan doesn't exactly appreciate their power during this particular moment, but it's okay because it's you.

Word Count: 761 (I haven't written in years, gotta start somewhere)

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Very Light Mentions of Smut if you squint real hard

You stare out of your window watching and listening to the heavy pitter patter of the large drops against the roof. You watch as droplets of water race down the glass.

The weather must have been caused by a certain X-Men. Just this morning the forecast called for clear skies and sunshine, but now it's absolutely pouring. At the moment the rain is mainly above the gardens at the school. You assume the professor asked Storm to give the vegetation some care.

You're pulled from your thoughts when three heavy knocks rap upon the old oak door that connects the hallway to your room. You scooch off of your queen-sized bed, shuffling to the door quickly, brushing off your clothing, making yourself look more presentable to your unknown visitor.

You gently pry the door open, earning a creak from the slightly rusted hinges. Once fully open a tall bulky frame looms in the opening. To anyone else, this figure might be intimidating, but it makes you smile instead. Standing in your doorway is a soaking wet Logan.

"This you?" he asks pointing to the ceiling, a serious look on his face. He must be referring to the ongoing downpour outside. He looked annoyed, but it was cute in your opinion. The way his heavy brows furrowed together and the small downwards pull of his lips. You loved seeing this big gruff man pout like a child. It only made you adore him more.

"No, it's not me. There's lightning and thunder out there. You know I can't control that. I can only pull the water from the clouds." He takes your observation into account, seeing a strike of lightning outside of your window.

"Must be Storm then. She should really warn a guy before she unleashes a fricken' tsunami." he scowls, only making your smile grow. His eyes meet yours, and his hard exterior begins to soften. You had always had a soft spot for him, and him you. Often, he would come to your room to catch up, talk about plans for a mission, or sometimes do other things. You never officialized your relationship with him, though. As far as you knew, you were still just friends even if more intimate matters occurred on occasion.

You take his hand gently into yours. The size of his completely engulfing yours. His skin is freezing cold, and you can feel the wetness meet your palm. "Come in. Let's dry you off." You tug his arm, and he follows behind without hesitation.

He stands in the middle of your room, thick drops of water falling onto the old wooden floorboards. You chuckle to yourself at the sight. His clothes are drenched, and his once peaked hair is now flat. You can see small droplets of water beaded in his beard. At your amusement, he raises an eyebrow. "You bring me in here just to laugh at me?" he asks. His tone wasn't harsh, but almost amused. He could never be truly mad at you. You were just too sweet to be mad at.

You shake your head and hold out your palm, gently wiggling your fingers in an upwards motion. The water on his clothes and hair begins to float right off of his body. As it floats above his head, a growing ball of liquid is formed, each drop making its way to the rest. With a flick of your wrist, you fling the ball of water to a large empty glass that sits upon your nightstand, filling it almost all of the way to the brim.

You turn back to Logan, watching as he checks himself for any residual dampness. To his surprise there was none. You smile at him as your eyes meet, a flint of appreciation washing over his features. "Thanks, sweetheart." He begins to take long strides towards you.

He places one of his large, calloused hands on your hip, while the other makes it to the nape of your neck. He towers above you, leaning down mere inches from your face. "Don't know what I'd do without you." You giggle in response, not something he expected. "You'd probably melt." you joke, making a small smirk appear on his lips. "Probably would." he agrees, now smiling down at you.

You lift yourself on your tiptoes, meeting his lips in a soft kiss. Nothing is better than this moment. You don't know if you'll ever be official, but right now none of that matters. All that matters is that he's here with you, and you're here with him.

[nightunite]

Yes I know I’m literally talking to you via our DMs about this, but what do you think Konig’s first first impressions of Maid Reader is? Does he fully register the new personnel at the manor, or is it more of a “yes new people to be a good employer too”

Hello my little secret agent, thank you for sending in an ask. This is how I imagine their first interaction to go.

Konig can feel a headache brewing, his grip tight on his pen while he massages at his temple with his free hand. It's barely past noon, and already he has had more social interaction than he cares for. If it weren't for these damn papers, he would be free from this stuffy office to roam the chilly woods. He glares with disdain at his filing shelves, the only piece of furniture not built with him in mind, the muscles in his back between his shoulders protesting at the thought of being hunched inwards, squinting at the documents while bent lest he smack the back of his skull into the hanging cabinets again. He glances down at his feet, a sturdy bag resting under his desk. Inside are rations packed by the cooks, a bedroll, some matches and a flint, a canteen, and the various hunting gear he requires. Enough to last him several days, free from the burdens and expectations of the nobility and their incessant need to gossip. A gentle rap on his door forces his gaze from the bag, a grunt signaling for his footman, Felix to come in. When he sees him enter with a shaky young woman whose face he did not recognize he represses the urge to groan, headache kicking in fully. It doesn't help that Felix has an amused expression on his face, not even making an attempt at hiding his smug grin while escorting her into his presence. Once again, those pesky rumors plague him. He had recently had several of his staff retire, having been with him for over a decade, following him from his homeland to this new place. Close companions over those years, an understanding between them regarding how he would like the estate run and the boundaries concerning privacy. Yet they were already into their years when they followed him, and he could not bear to keep them here when they desired to return to their true home and be with family.

Word spread of his estate needing workers to step in, and it's true he did need new individuals to help, but not the way the rumors had exaggerated; mostly it was errand runners and cooks that he needed, with space for maybe a single maid or two to step in. For all that he was a large man, he wasn't fond of mess and clutter, and beyond the habitual cleaning the estate didn't require much upkeep. Yet in came what seemed to be half of the workforce's maids, each claiming to want to work for him yet looking at him as though he were going to force them to sign their names in a black book. He has no desire to keep staff that are terrified of him, and even less desire to feel uncomfortable in his own house. He looks towards this hopeful woman and pauses, taking her in. He is used to people being frightened by him, but this is something else. Her body is thinner than he suspects it should be, like a tree choked by mistletoe, something leeching the life from her bones. Skin pallid as though she's fighting off something and being left empty as a result. Eyes that are focused yet tired, not yet able to rest...

"Name?" He asks, watching her jump slightly before she responds. "Business?" He keeps his questions short; if she has a problem with it she says nothing, which is good. He hates having to try and string together long sentences around people who do not know his native tongue. "I'm a maid, sir" Ah, he was right. This should be over quickly then. "Employer?" "Duke-Duke MacTavish, sir." He watches her bite her lip, strained smile falling while rubbing her fingertips on her skirt. Ah, MacTavish. His lips purse under his shroud. He'd had the...pleasure of seeing the man for the first time at a gala the previous summer. The man had been quite boisterous, making his rounds to chat with most everyone before settling amongst his friends. Throughout the night Konig had watched everyone, and found himself tired of Duke MacTavish's need to fawn and fool with the ladies that evening, both courtly and common alike. He glances back at the maid in the chair in front of him, observing how she fidgets, before the idea comes to him.

She bears resemblance to a deer. Like a doe, stark against the white snow, eyes taking in everything as though readying for an escape at any moment. A prey animal spooked from its den by something, running from a greater threat than he. Something close to home perhaps, that left her under duress in such a way that she could not help but show signs of wearing down. An endurance predator, running her into the ground, a feeling he has caused hunting both man and beast. The concealed look of panic in her eyes is not something he caused, given the startling way she looks him in the eye as she waits for his next question, and he finds himself less put-upon than before. "Skills?" It does no good to take in someone if they cannot earn their keep. "Sweeping, dusting, washing of both laundry and dishes, polishing, folding, and mending to name a few" Good. Very good. He stands, letting out a sigh as he feels his back pop slightly. He makes his way around the desk, extending a hand to her to help her up. She takes it gently, not with hesitation but with care to be soft with him. It's enough to make his lips quirk a little, someone so small and fragile compared to him worrying about causing him harm. She keeps her head down as he gently ushers her out of the office and towards the front door, steps slow and shoulders drawn inwards. Once she reaches the door though, he speaks. "Next Monday" "Sir?" She asks, staring up at him, brows pinched in confusion. "Start next Monday. Come at 9. Bring all things, Annika will show you everything." He watches as she realizes that she will in fact be employed, escaping whatever he's sure haunts her at the duchy. The relieved smile she gives him makes something in his chest twitch, her face lighting up and shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you, my Lord! I will be sure to be on time!" She gives him a curtsy which he inclines his head at, and then she's off down the cobblestone path towards a waiting carriage. Once the door shuts, he groans and rolls his neck, hearing several of the bones pop. He marches back into the office and hooks the bag with his fingers, long strides taking him towards the mudroom and the sprawling expanse of woods beyond. The papers can wait, he's earned some time to himself.

[monarchthefirst]

stubborn whumpee/sickfic asmr

Caretaker stood at the bedroom door with the tray. They lifted a hand to knock, but hesitated and blew a long breath.

Whumpee had not been cooperating. True, they pretty much NEVER cooperated with anyone in any situation, but add that to them being injured, feverish, and cranky and one ended up with a near insurmountable situation on their hands. 

But Caretaker was stubborn too. And Whumpee was sick. In any case, the odds were in Caretaker’s favor. They rapped firmly on the door with their knuckles. “Whumpee? It’s me, Caretaker. Can I come in?” They loved the irascible creature too much to let them starve anyways. 

“Go away.” The voice was muffled and weak, but clearly annoyed. 

Caretaker rolled their eyes with a huff and pushed the door open. “I have some broth for you, you poor wretch. At least you could—oh my GOD!” 

Whumpee sat hunched over on the bed, the white bandages around their chest and abdomen stained all over with bright red. Flinching in pain with every movement, they glanced up at Caretaker with wide, lethargic eyes before looking away in shame. There was enough guilt in their face to wash away Caretaker’s sudden burst of frustration. 

Sighing, Caretaker placed the tray on the nightstand and approached carefully. “I told you not to try getting up,” they scolded in as gentle of tone as possible. “Those sutures were badly done anyway. Here let me—”

“I’m fine!” Whumpee snapped, waving Caretaker’s hand away. “I got this. You don’t have to worry.”

Caretaker’s temper rose. “Well I’d sure love to see you take care of yourself, Whumpee. Look, half of the lacerations are too far back for you to reach. Stop being a fool and let me help.”

“Not happening.” Face set like flint against the pain, Whumpee hauled themselves farther back onto the bed, careful to not get blood on the sheets or pillow. “I’ve found ways before. I sure as hell can do it again.”

Caretaker rolled their eyes and ran a hand through their hair. Why?! This was way worse than any two-year-old tantrum they had ever dealt with. Ten little siblings had not prepared them for this level of stubborn idiocy. They turned around for a moment to get ahold of themselves. Then they said in a calmer voice: “do I have to forcefully sedate you like last time? Trust me, I hated it every bit as much as you did. But it didn’t have to happen.” They turned to see Whumpee watching them with death in their exhausted eyes. “Lay a hand on me and I’ll—” Whumpee broke off into a agonized coughing fit, their whole body shaking feebly. 

Caretaker made the decision. They patted Whumpee’s hair and reached into the drawer of the nightstand for a small syringe that had been prepared earlier for such an event. Before Whumpee could recover, Caretaker grabbed their arm and slid the needle in, holding them while slowly depressing the plunger. Whumpee fought and twisted, their breath coming in hoarse gasps. Caretaker tossed the empty syringe away and pinned them down on the bed as the sedative slowly began to take effect. After a few minutes, they relaxed their hold and let Whumpee flop back onto the sheets. Whumpee’s eyes were half-open and regarding Caretaker with tired annoyance. “Fuck—you…” they mumbled.

“Gotta admit that that was easier than last time. And yeah, fuck you too.” Caretaker let them go and ran to the bathroom for fresh bandages and other supplies. “You can pass out anytime you want,” they said cheerfully when they got back. “Gotta restitch the mess you made.” 

Whumpee groaned and buried their face in the pillow to hide the blush that crept into their pale face. Caretaker caught the movement and studiously ignored it. It must have been awful to be in this state when one was so strangely ashamed of depending on another human being. The thought made a rush of sympathy rush through Caretaker. “Don’t worry,” they murmured in a more serious voice. “I promise, I’ll finish this up and leave you alone.”

There was no response. Caretaker sighed and went to work. 

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

Part 2:

Caretaker didn’t know exactly what had awakened them. They lay there in the dark, listening to the silence in the house. Grunting, they turned over to look at the clock. 3:24 AM. At that moment, there was the soft thump down the hall, near Whumpee’s room. Oh crap. Caretaker dragged the covers off and turned on the lamp. Feet bare, they opened their bedroom door and peered down the hall. A dim light was coming out of the cracks around Whumpee’s door. Bathroom light? Maybe. Caretaker crept down the hall and into the bedroom. 

The bed was disheveled, sheets tossed aside in a twisted mess, pillows on the floor. The bathroom light was on and Caretaker approached as quietly as they could to find Whumpee hunched over the toilet, their forehead resting on their folded arms. Caretaker wondered if they had fallen asleep, but Whumpee shifted suddenly and threw up, their whole body shaking with fatigue. It looked like they had been there for hours. 

Deciding to disregard the promise they had made earlier, Caretaker entered the bathroom and squatted down beside Whumpee, supporting them as they retched and threw up again. They noticed with relief that the stitches were still in place, although Whumpee was still clearly in a lot of pain. Unable to rub their back or shoulders due to the multiple lacerations, Caretaker gently cupped the back of their neck with one hand, massaging with their thumb. After some time, Whumpee slumped in exhaustion. They made no move to push Caretaker away so Caretaker stayed. 

“You want some water?” Caretaker asked carefully. Whumpee shook their head and Caretaker was alarmed to hear a sharp sniff. No way. Whumpee was crying?!

They were. Their pale face was twisted strangely and tears were streaming down from bleary eyes. Any efforts to stop was apparently making them feel sicker. They seemed too miserable to even be ashamed anymore. Caretaker stared for a shocked second before recovering. “It’s ok,” they said reassuringly. “It’s ok, I’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Whumpee sobbed brokenly. “Please don’t sedate me again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that.” Caretaker grabbed a tissue and wiped Whumpee’s face carefully. “Especially since you asked so nicely. Would you mind telling me what happened?”

Whumpee sniffed again. “Bad dream…” they managed to croak, then seemed to realize how childish that sounded. “I’m fine.”

“You crying on the bathroom floor at 3:30 in the morning is NOT fine.” Caretaker got them another tissue. “Is your back sore?”

Whumpee nodded and their face twisted up again as more tears came. Caretaker sighed and patted their hair. This was going to be a long night. 

They turned the shower on low and helped Whumpee out of their T-shirt. They carefully removed the bandages. “You ready?” They asked. Whumpee nodded, and Caretaker helped them up and into the shower. Whumpee sat on the tiled floor of the shower while Caretaker ran warm water over their back and shoulders. They rested their forehead on their knees and tried to stop crying. Caretaker stroked their hair gently. “It’s ok to cry,” they told them. “No need to be ashamed. Just let it all out.”

Afterwards, Caretaker dried them off and helped them dress. Soon they had Whumpee back in bed, lying on their stomach while Caretaker rubbed salve over their stitched wounds. Deciding that it would be too much of a hassle to bandage them up again, Caretaker spread a light cloth over their back and pulled the sheet up. Whumpee’s eyes were still open, but they seemed much more relaxed than they ever had been before. Caretaker stood by the bed for a moment, remembering their promise. “You want me to leave now, Whumpee? It’s fine if you want to be alone.”

Whumpee glanced up at Caretaker and shook their head weakly. “Can you stay?” They asked. 

The feeble voice went straight to Caretaker’s heart and they took Whumpee’s hand and knelt by the bed. 

“Yeah,” they smiled. “Yeah, I can stay.”