#I think my HH brain is slowly returning

[ittybittyluci]

Oops, appearing out of the aether because Helluva Boss’s new episode dropped Satan’s new design and I had to put the blorbo next to him. I wanted his pose from that one frame but I wanted him to actually fit in the scene and not be super pixeled, so I just traced and recoloured, this isn’t actually any original art nor is it supposed to be. It’s nothing special, just wanted to put my hc size comparison out there XD.

[devilslinks]

# 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔 !

— 𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗕 𝗙𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 | 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔, 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.

wc; ( 3.2k )

synopsis; your best friend, raihan and you find yourselves eager to get intoxicated in one another's company. what better place than a night-club, dim lights, the overwhelmin' musk of the various alcoholic beverages; it's every guy pairs wet dream. that is until raihan gets shit-faced and excuses himself to the restroom while he pukes up his spiked guts. only to return to watch his sister take you balls deep, down her throat.

a/n: no brain, only nessa and her magical throat 🤝

warnings. MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT, family!au, raihan and nessa are siblings, club sex, intoxication, dirty talk, the name princess, deep throating, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, throat fucking, cum eating, flirty!nessa, jealous!raihan, exhibitionism, voyeurism.

euphoria.

that was the only word that came mind when raihan and you got involved in recreational activities like you did. galar was a go big or go home type of region, and the two of you stayed true to that motto. the itchy, messily thrown together suits that matched all the way down to the type of socks you had on— the overexcessive amounts of booze, and the loud music which just barely drowned out the fits of laughter and discussion littered throughout the packed club. as soon as the doors opened, flooding your senses with nothing but the sickly sweet, aroma of sex and other intoxicating chemicals; that's how you knew the had night begun.

the two of you had been indulging, before you arrived on the scene— time seemed to blur together with head-spinning speeds or come to a full halt at the worst of moments. you don't even know how long you'd been locking eyes with the transparent shapes and manufactured blurbs dancing across the wall a good, twenty, maybe thirty feet adjacent to your seat at the drink counter. the weight of something too heavy for your alcohol infused mind to register until the bar hostess was practically brewing with irritation at your non-compliance with her attempts to have you regain control of your dazed state; sat lazily in-between your pointer finger and thumb, respectively.

hell you don't even remember waddling over to the bar with the company you had brought with you. but you didn't mind, the painfully challenging to recall memories mattered not when there was already another drink swirling around the rim of your shot-glass. raihan's shifty frame wiggling in and out of your peripherals as you tug the half-empty cup to the skin of your lips, craning your head back to knock down whatever liquid remained at the bottom. the delicious burn of toxins coated the lining of your throat, trails of steamy fluid leaving their mark as the mystery liquor made it way down your esophagus. whatever it was, it packed a punch and wasted no time forcing your lips to curve into a bitter sneer— eyebrows shadowing your face in a sour demeanor, as you used the hem of your suit sleeve to whisk away any spilt mixture that tarnished your cherry red lips.

you hardly have the chance to open your mouth for a second time to address the swaying body, huddled closer the counter than it is to your own. raihan is a total mess, loopsy, and feverishly hot skin to compliment— he's stained a harsh, sickly green against his natural melanin tone. doubling over in either pain or the sudden flow of too many drinks pooling in his system; whatever the emotion he was enduring was, he wasted not a second longer before hustling off into the large gathering of people. disappearing before his lips could slur the final word, missing from his dialect.

“hh..h fuck- my stomach is gonna explode, i'll catch you-” his gravely tone churning into the backdrop just as quickly as he initiated the conversation; the familiar hum of lyrics to a song you couldn't quite place your finger on replaced whatever words raihan had previously gargled out before dashing off towards the public restrooms.

your head feels like it weighs a metric ton this late into the night, threatening to tumble forward as if your neck had lost any and all of it's support. your eyelids pulling down roughly over your eyes like window shades before the sudden wave of loneliness hit you like a truck. fiddling with the collar of your dress-shirt was entertaining enough to fill the void that was the now empty stool, where your best friend once resided. but that quick fix subsided rather easily and the once overwhelming presence of boredom had returned to take a seat.

and then, so did she.

“shit, rai- back so soon? you alright?” your vision was foggy and adorned with blurry bits here and there— but it was still evident enough to make out that, whoever was indeed now in your friend's seat, was not the person you had chauffeured to the club with.

“damn, do i really look, that bad? it's me, y/n. the painfully better looking sibling. what did that idiot put in your drink?” the speech is followed by a laugh. it was a warm and inviting chuckle, one that seemed to relax every muscle in your liquor tense body the moment she parted her spit silken lips. you had been in her company earlier that evening, which made it a tad easier for your incoherent mindset to process it. but nevertheless it was hard not to distinguish who the women paying you a visit was at this point, even if you hadn't engaged with her previously; nessa was infamous for those enchanting looks. and in your dumbified state, those gorgeous navy locks tied together by aquamarine highlights were one of a kind and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the room of normal presenting citizens. though your brain didn't want to pick-up any of your surroundings, you found it quite easy to fawn over her in that ebony dress and the way it hugged her curves in all the right places.

“fuck.. nes' when'd you get so.. so.” you couldn't even find the energy or hell, the words to cough up the remainder of the sentence, you were so taken aback by how stunning she was, even behind your bleary, drunk eyes. but nessa wasn't oblivious— you were sure she had picked up the hint you had layed out so bluntly, and the warm palm slowly inching up your clothed thigh secured that suspension for you.

“not even so much as a greeting? you didn't even buy me a drink first; asshole.”

her words are firm, yet so light hearted at the same time; but just enough to set your arousal over the edge. your headspace so vulnerable to teasing that you're certain she knew what she was doing to your conflicted mind and body. her sly fingers are enough to coax you to shuffle your bar-stool closer to her's— not a single word wriggled around your throat in response, instead the tangy after-tase of alcohol still heavy on your tongue distracted you and you were sure the whole bar could acknowledge your intoxicated musk.

her features held so many different emotions at once, as she pryed you for a reply— trying to tell you each one obscured behind that pretty face, way too quickly for you to decipher. her brows furrowed quizzically, one tilted slightly higher than the other as her half lidded doe-eyes stared up at you like prey at a final stand off with their predator; just humbly surrending their body to the circle of life.

“hah, you're one to.. talk, nes' just because 'm out of it- doesn't mean my numb skin can't feel your heavy hand toying with my waistband.” the both of you swiftly changed direction, heads leering down at nessa's free hand. you were infact correct, you observed as the woman swirled shapes into the expensive leather of your belt. pulling bits between her fingers now and then as she silently struggled with the metalic buckle. your groin swelled tightly, gripping your boxers closer to the fat bulge behind your suit pants; it would take an idiot not to take notice of the wrinkled fabric secured around your aching dick. her skin felt like a furnace, contrasting your slightly cooler temperature— but with her body pressing so desperately to yours, you were sure the warmth from her melted over onto your feverish flesh. the damp, sheen of anxious sweat made the fabric of your suit, dewy. sticking slightly against your hellish skin.

“mm, i guess i was wrong about the greeting part— hello there, you look happy to see me.” not a hint of shame obscured her voice, you're miserably watching nessa shift her weight as she now palms at the mound between your legs. you've seen countless renditions of this night loop in your head, but now that the scenario is a reality; it's agonizing to try to contain your primal urges, face to face. it's a chore not to profess all the vile things you wanna carry out with her, but she's already one step ahead. that glare is dangerous, it makes you feel like she's trying convey that the two of you are already in on something devious.

“let me take care of you.. y/n.”

“let me treat you, nessa.”

the both of you drawl out in what would be perfect unison if your mind wasn't foggy and running slower than usual. you had both finally voiced the elephant in the room, the one which was just positively dripping with thick tension up until this moment in time. you're still squirming under nessa's grip, she can feel you whine and pant everytime she gives your cock a light squeeze between her fingers and it's not long before the two of you are absent from the bar and clawing at one another's linen around the corner. closest to any vacant area within eye-shot. well, as vacant as a small room seperated from the bustling club-life can get.

did you think the night would come to a close with your friend's sister skillfully sucking the soul out of your sloppy cock? not in a million years, but you'd be damned if you didn't want it to end on any other note. nessa fell to her knees before the two of you even made it out of view— planting herself in-between your thighs like she was a trained professional; no flaws in her technique as her tongue slid obediently from her mouth and latches onto the moist fabric masking her mouth's destination. nessa's fingers are long and slender, as they snake up your hips and meet at the belt tangled around your waist. you can feel your cock pumping against the seams of your pants, the uncomfortable sensation making it appear as though you'd rip through the cloth if your cock was imprisoned a second longer.

with the head-splitting atmosphere of the club playlist stretching and stuffing your ears to the brim with fast pitched edm that made your skull pound and jitter. as well as the added hum of the gym leader whispering inaudible nothings against your bulge as she at last pushed your pants down, and past your ankles; material getting caught on the fancy design of your shoes. you felt like you were on the brink of death, but the enticing appeal of hooking up with your best friend's relative kept your iron-will alive long enough to rough it out and pass the irritation that came with being black-out drunk.

your storm of worries fizzled just as quickly as they sprung up, maybe it was the alcohol but you swear this girl had the hands of the divine; you were washed away into infatuation once more. nessa's teeth hike up your boxers until they meet the waistline, pulling down on the hem with a familiar aggressiveness as she relishes in the way your big dick pops to life and looms over her lustful features; all chubby 'n decorated with veins fer' her viewing pleasure.

“shit.. i'm gonna have so much fun with your cock. you wanna make your stupid slut already? my mouth is just asking for it.” the first piece is low and almost voiced as if it was meant for her ears only— but the second half is most definitely directed at you; as she tilts her head to plant a few delicate lovebites along the base of your shaft. fingers looping gracefully around your hilt as she admires the girth you carry.

“fuck..” you hiss, cock twitching violently as you pleaded with sinful eyes. she had barely started her reign over your dick before guttural groans and mewls slid past your lips. the sensation of her tiny tastebuds as they trailed over the little glob of pre-cum that drooled from your cockhead was insatiable. the sudden action sent your hips forward almost automatically, like they instinctively acted on impulse; it felt so right. merely a few inches breached past her lips but there was enough speed and prowess in your thrust to drag a surprise gag from the mouth attached to your dick.

impatience was on the horizon, the buzz from copious amounts of alcohol had knocked down a few pegs. you were now fully aware of the figure positioned at your feet like she was praying for a god, and soon you'd make her chant like she was being fucked by one as well. broad fingers clamped down, squishing both sides of her jaw while simultaneously easing your length deeper, and deeper down her gullet like your dick was her last meal on earth. you throw your head back before letting it fall forward against the wall, watching those desperate dark iris' pool with puddles of lust that seem to be neverending.

“come'on princess, you know how badly you want this-- you gonna let me ruin this pretty throat?” you thumb over her warm cheeks, eyes glossy and threatening to ruin the simple makeup she applied before she arrived. the uncomfortable stretch of her esophagus molding as your cock fills the empty gaps in her throat with every inch you have; is one that isn't unfamiliar to her. dragging your pulsating veins along the dip in her mouth, her tongue greedily laps up any and all of the skin yet to be consumed by her.

“jesus.. fuck, oh fuck. take it, nes'. shit.” your cock fully slips into her, heavy and swollen as it spears her right down the middle; eyes rolling back into her skull as it's just too fucking big. bigger than anything she's previously had inside of her, anyway. your core bleeds with spots of warmth as you take the time to bask in the way every individual wall in her mouth feels as it constricts you almost painfully. sucking you in before she slides you back out of her throat once more; repeating the tedious cylce that has the two of you in a heated frenzy.

despite all the sudden and erratic pain, nessa bobs her head in sync, coaxing you to go as deep as humanly possible. rocking your hips as they snap against her face with every good fuck you give her— watching yourself grow rapidly from the outside of her neck, the moist skin now holding a curved bump near the middle. nessa takes the initiative. removing a hand from one of your thighs, she uses four fingers to lightly push and stroke the bulge; almost as if she was jerking you off while you ravaged her inards.

she knew exactly what she was doing, and it had you riled the fuck up.

you picked up the pace, delirious from the amount of stimulation your precious cock was receiving. with your erection fully encased by her face and your dick bouncing off the gummy walls of her gullet, you could tell her throat was already forming bruises with a throbbing soreness to compliment, time come the morning. your rough hands dig behind the back of her head, hands feeling lost amongst her ocean of hair— beautiful locks just perfect for pulling. you yank her face forward, lowering yours as well to not only established authority but to get your point across to the cockdrunk slut mindlessly slobbering all over your messy shaft.

“mfph-- please, cum.. i want- all!” you can just barely string together what sounds like whines for more— i guess she can sense just how close the knot in your stomach is to bursting because she grips the back of your thighs and tugs them forward with whatever coherent muscle strength she has remaining. just in time for the tension in your core to coil tighter and tighter, the lowerhalf of your body trembling with all the signs of an incoming orgasm.

“does my dumb little girl wanna be fucked, that, bad? hah, fuck nes' what would your brother think?” you mock so cruelly, totally disregarding the fact that there is a slim possibility, raihan is searching for the lost pair. and it just so happens that nessa's poor little brother had been observing for a little over half the engagement. fist wrapped around his pathetic cock, suit collar pulled between his fangs, ocean blue eyes fixated on you; your hip strength, the way you rolled and plunged balls deep into his sibling. his body felt so empty, only riding his high off the two of yours', praying he'd finish before you caught him lurking like a sleaze. it was so unfair, why did nessa get to taste your sultry cock before he did?

you can feel the bass reverberate in nessa's throat as her lips nip at your hilt, impatiently trying to babble out a response adequate enough to your liking. her mind is flying, no correct sense of direction as it attempts to form a reply, but all that breaks past the barrier is a few pitiful mewls. her nose is burried in your pubes and she's lost all feeling in her throat, only motivating her to show off the lump on her neck even more. you watch as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth for the hundredth time that night, hands pushing down the lacy strap of her dress in a last ditch effort to find something other than her hair to latch onto for support. her scalp is on fire and she can only accept the stinging sensation as the roughness of your thrusts increase in magnitude.

the club is filled to the brim with lewd moans and needy pants; those of which included raihan's. every inch of her esophagus is being used— you happily ram your cock down her throat a few more times, your balls were quivering wildly. contracting and spasming, boiling with a fat wad of potent seed all ready to venture inside of her. nessa squeals, feeling a thick bulge travel up the length of your cock, up to the head and straight on her tongue; some spurts flowing down her neck while the rest collected in her mouth. painting her insides a translucent white that would surely stain.

just for good measure, nessa deep throats your empty dick with a few simple strokes; a white, sticky ring forming around the base of your shaft after she detached from your dick. a lewd pop, followed by a line of stringy saliva connected her lips to your bottomed out cock before she ruined the trail by letting her tongue lull from behind her teeth. letting you get a nice overhead view of her empty mouth, watching as the last bits of your load traveled down her throat and out of sight for good.

“god.. such a g'girl. you sucked on my cock so nicely, princess. wasn't that a way to end the night?” a blissed out smile creeps over your face, marveling in the aftermath you caused. you gave the right side of her face a few taps from your cock— dried tears and sloppy makeup tainting her cheeks. cum dripping from the corners of her mouth, as a cocktail of her own spit and your semen coats the back of her throat. it was all one big look of;

euphoria.

[sparklingpax]

We return to another episode of Kuni rambles incoherently on tumblr with a phone at 18%

Alternately titled, someone take my phone the f r ag away from me

Ok. I apologize if someone else has come up with this idea first and this is therefore a pale comparison to the original idea, but um, here goes. 

I want an au (?? Might have a different name based on what I'm talking about Actually, but brain Fried so I can't remember) where optimus gets to talk to his youngest self--to Orion Pax :0

Note: the times it mentions Optimus is like. from Op’s pov? Since Orion never learns his name?? If that makes sense?? Sorry this is so confusing aa a a--

so anyway Sorry for typos and grammar stuff, I'm typing this on my phone as it slowly dies Hfkdjsj hH 😳

///

Orion is pulled from his study books at the sound of footsteps.

A shadow is cast over him.

Wonder and disbelief spark in his gaze as he stares up at the rather grand figure before him.

This mech--plating a nearly exact match to his own in the red, blue, and silver coloring--seems to possess an air about him that is...neither true confidence, nor uncertain existence.

At the very least, it seems he knows who he is, and his purpose in this world. Something Orion is still working on.

Silence rests between them.

Optimus, meanwhile, feels an overwhelming sense of yearning.

Seeing Orion--seeing himself--he wishes he could go back to those days.

The simpler days of youthful naivety towards life.

When Cybertron still thrived under golden days and the silvery illumination of the moons at night.

When the buildings stood tall and beautiful and untouched.

When he could never have known the awful sight of a corpse at the end of his own sword, or the unnatural cries a bot makes as it is brutally murdered next to you, and you can do nothing but continue to fend for your own life...

"You are...studying for a quarterly exam?" Optimus asks, leaning closer to see the book. He recognizes the cover and feels a twinge in his spark.

He remembers the book.

...And that he never enjoyed Chemistry much.

"...I am.....but...how did you know?" Orion stands slowly to meet the gaze of the mech standing over his desk. His gaze turns to light worry and confusion.

Orion is acutely aware of a feeling in his spark that...a lot about this mech feels familiar.

Somehow even...intimately.

"A-actually...um...."

He stammers in the silence, fishing desperately for the words to use that would ask his question, yet still be polite.

After all, 'are you related to me?' is definitely an awkward--perhaps intrusive--question to ask a complete stranger...

Optimus continues to regard the young bot, slightly amused.

He knows what Orion is hoping to ask, but also that it would be hard to ask a question like that upfront, at least when he was a younger mech.

"Orion Pax," Optimus says, placing his servos on his hips.

"Y-yes?"

"Be careful not to stay up too late with that book. Tests require knowledge, but they also require one to be awake to take them...and sleep--"

"--helps a processor function, yes..." the smaller mech sighs, frustrated. He's heard that one before, but his mind isn't thinking about that at the moment.

Alright, so he knows my name, too. But...I've never met him? There's absolutely no way he doesn't know me somehow... but how could I possibly--

"Orion?"

He jolts at his name, almost blurting the question before pulling himself back.

The mech standing over his desk gives the gentlest of smiles and rests a firm servo on Orion's shoulder.

"I know what you are going to ask, Orion."

"You...do?"

"And I will tell you as much as I can."

What is he, inside my head now?

But he receives an answer that shocks him more than that would.

"I....am you, Orion, and beneath my title and age from my timeline....I am still you," he pauses, beginning to look a little sad now.

Orion blinks a few times, absolutely shocked.

"....but you're so....tall..." Is all he manages to murmur before realizing what he just said and instantly feeling heat rush to his face.

Optimus tightens his jaw as he doesn't wish to embarrass the archivist any further by laughing.

I was less careful with my thoughts and emotions once. If only I still knew how...

"I am a Prime, and I am fighting a war."

"A war?" Orion frowns in thought.

There's hasn't been a war since the revolution against the Quintesson oppressors.

What need had Cybertron to fight again?

"Is it an invasion of Cybertron to come? Or a resources conflict?"

And me? Fighting in that war? But...I fail every self-defense practice with Megatronus, at that's true no matter how hard I try...

Optimus feels his chest grow heavy as he remembers the pain Megatron's anger alone had caused him after the council of Halogen.

The guilt, regret, frustration at his friend's obstinance, fear, sadness...

He realizes quickly that he can't possibly unload the heavier truth to Orion--to himself--all over again.

He can't...bring himself to tell Orion that his closest friend and mentor would be the leading force in a centuries-long, gritty, bleak and somewhat horribly hopeless war against him and his cause.

So he instead offers a rather sad smile, and chooses not to answer the question.

"Orion, hear my words, even if you don’t understand them at present. No matter what happens or who around you turns for the darker path, you must never lose your spark, hope, or your character."

"My spark....and character?" He echoes, distantly. "Hope?"

"Indeed," Optimus affirms, feeling an uneasiness of his own. 

The light in his eyes has dulled, yet they also maintain a grim light to them.

One that tells Orion that this mech has seen things he wished never to have seen, and never to see again. 

A grief so strong it....scares him.

Orion feels a wave of uneasiness wash over his whole body.

Something very dark is somewhere in the future...and now he has something to do with it?

And...it involves him becoming bigger, taller, stronger? Learning to fight...to kill, maybe? 

To kill means to take a life. To end it. 

Orion swallows, at last processing the other part of what the mech had told him.

He had to become a Prime??

"I--but I couldn't...not in any dream could I..." He trails off, feeling almost too much at once. 

I cannot kill. 

Optimus senses the turmoil he's set in the younger mech and feels guilty immediately.

"Do not worry," he consoles him, reaching for his smaller servos. He then looks Orion in the eye, knowing the firmness will settle his mind. "My being here alone may be enough to stop what might happen to you, to this planet..."

Orion indeed beings to feel the pounding in his spark settle just a little.

A war would mean all kinds of devastation he couldn't begin to imagine...but this mech was from another timeline.

Perhaps we...are destined for another future.

"Above all, know that if you never lose yourself, then....whatever you become will be just as true as that," he tells him. The words are weighted with something profound. 

The archivist knows in his spark that it will be a long time before he can grasp that emotion, but he is fine with that. 

Orion blinks at him, feeling a new wave of mixed emotions he can't define. He feels himself tense as he tries to control it.

But the mech's hand reaches to his arm.

He nods encouragingly, and Orion just knows the Prime doesn't want him to pent up his emotions.

"In my eyes, Orion, you have always been a prime..."

Optimus draws back at last and slowly begins to leave.

It must be time for him to go...

Orion stands at his desk, staring, a forearm still raised.

"...Or so I am told by those around me..."

The mech adds with a mild chuckle before finally leaving the room.

Orion continues to stare at the now empty doorway ahead of him.

Was that even real?

Himself?

From another future?

And yet...there is that feeling in his spark...the gut instinct telling him to trust in what this mech had been saying, that it was all real...

He plops back into his seat, staring at the ceiling.

He is too lost in thought to try and get back into his late-night studying.

And then it sinks in.

I never asked him his name!!

He deflates a little and facepalms.

Orion, you dumbaft....

///

Nhjdjdjs I hate this, writing skils have left the chat 

bye ;w;

[whumpzone]

Can you write a story where Rowe's cleaning in the attic/closet/basement and he accidentally bumps into a shelf and made a heavy box fall on him and knock him out and Tomas comes running to check on him only to see Rowe unconscious on the ground and takes him back to his room and takes care of him, while Rowe is slowly waking up and apologizing and crying profusely and Tomas is comforting him while dabbing his face gently with a wet wash cloth.

Ohh! Now I've got whumperflies!

thank you for this lovely prompt, anon! it’s not 100% the same, but i really hope you like it!

-

“Now, you’re sure you won’t get scared? Because I could- I could go up. Instead.” Master Tomas sounded wholly unconvincing. Rowe nodded, and gave him a small smile. They both knew that the attic contained spiders.

“I won’t get scared, Master, I promise,” he said softly.

Master exhaled and put a hand to his heart. “Thank you, Rowe. I know you’re the man for the job.”

Rowe felt his cheeks flush. I’m the man for the job. He held onto the thin ladder and climbed up.

-

The attic was cramped, barely waist height, but Rowe was small, so he wasn’t overly bothered. The tapes were apparently in a box marked, well, VHS TAPES, and Master hadn’t even asked if Rowe would know how to read it. He just trusted him. It made Rowe feel very proud, although he was cautious to admit that even to himself.

He looked around, shining the small torch Master had dug out for him, and the clutter comforted him. It was empty darkness he hated. Cold, empty nothingness, with no guarantee that his owner would ever come back, would even remember to feed him, slowly losing track of the days and being too dehydrated to cry-

Rowe shook his head and pressed on, shuffling easily along on his hands and knees. He was good at this. A spider hung from an impressive web above him. Beyond it, sandwiched between half a dozen other boxes, sat the one he was looking for. Hm.

Holding the torch between his teeth, he decided to try and wriggle it out. The boxes above it looked heavy, and if he could avoid shifting them all, he would. Besides, this way Master wouldn’t be kept waiting so long. The box was wedged in tightly, so Rowe pulled on it harder, and harder-

. . .

Tomas, who had been idling on his phone, heard the unmistakeable sound of Rowe crying out, and a sickening thud.

“Rowe, pal? Rowe?” he called, not waiting for an answer before going up. He could see the torch, rolling across the dusty floor, Rowe’s body illuminated in the cold light. “Rowe?”

No answer. Tomas kept his eyes firmly on him as he made his way over; it would be too easy to follow the cobwebs up to the roof beams and see something he really didn’t want to see.

Rowe had found the tapes, then. Tomas knew Rowe enough to know that, even with him being knocked out, he’d feel ten times worse knowing he’d failed his task. So he took the one he wanted and tucked it into his back pocket, as he took Rowe under the armpits and hauled him from the attic.

Lying Rowe down on his bed, Tomas softly carded his fingers through his hair, looking for any terrible injuries, but it seemed Rowe had only suffered a bump to the head. He was already starting to stir, so Tomas nipped to the bathroom quickly to get a wet cloth- the best remedy for just about any injury, according to his mother.

. . .

Master Tomas was the first thing Rowe saw when he opened his eyes. In his drowsy, half-awake state, his mind went straight to survival mode. His Master was wasting time on him. He was lying down, when he had chores to do. He couldn’t quite think straight.

The feeling of a damp cloth pressed against his temple momentarily soothed him, but, but it was more kindness! Kindness that he would have to earn. Weakly, he tried to sit up, but his body ignored him.

“Mm, ‘m sorry,” he gasped. Master looked at him with a frown.

“Welcome back to reality, pal. What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m w-w-wasting your time, I should- I should get up,” he tried again in vain to move, but Master’s firm hand against his sternum kept him still.

“No, stay and lie down, it’s okay,” Master ordered, and Rowe went limp as he submitted. He was stretched out on his- the bed Master let him sleep on. His head was fuzzy. He felt vulnerable, and exposed, and even though all Master Tomas was doing was dabbing his forehead and telling him to stay still, Rowe still felt like a trapped animal.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” he babbled. “P-please forgive me, Master. Please.”

“It’s okay, it’s all okay,” Master said, looking deeply in Rowe’s eyes. Rowe realised he was looking back- making eye contact with Master!- far too late. He quickly lowered his eyes and hoped Master wouldn’t punish him for that, too.

“You had to- had to come and get m-me.”

“Pssh, I was fine. I was brave,” Master flashed him a playful grin. There didn’t… look like there was any malice to it. “It’s you who’s had an accident. You poor thing, Rowe.”

Why did Master care? Rowe couldn’t understand it. “I’m f-f-fine, I can still work, can still b-be useful. Please d-don’t trouble yourself over your Pet, Master.”

Master’s frown deepened. Oh god- was Rowe even allowed to speak? He could hardly remember. Master lifted a hand to Rowe’s face, and he flinched away unforgivably. All that Master did, though, was tap his forehead lightly. “You sure your brain didn’t get a bit scrambled, pal? I’m just making sure your little head’s okay.”

“Hh, n-no, please M-Master, please I h-h-haven’t earned it…”

“Okay, I think you’re a bit confused. You haven’t talked about earning things for a while now. Do you remember my name, pal?”

“Master- Master- Master Tomas.” The words didn’t want to come out.

“Okay, that’s good. Do you know where you are?”

“Home, I’m h-home, Master.”

Master’s face softened as he continued to dab at Rowe’s forehead. “Well, that’s definitely true. I’ll get you a glass of water, I think.”

Master returned with the glass, insisting he had earned it, and held Rowe’s head up as he drank. His hand felt sure against the top of his spine.

A few minutes passed, and Rowe’s head began clearing up. Master never made him earn his gentle treatment, really, did he? Rowe felt ashamed for forgetting so easily. He was allowed to make eye contact. He was allowed to speak. Master wasn’t quick to anger. He was kind, unreasonably so but still, and his kindness was always real. As the confusion left him, so did the fear. It was quite amazing, to feel it melt away so quickly. He was lying down, and Master Tomas was perched halfway down the bed, holding the half-drank glass of water. Rowe looked at him and smiled.

“Master, I tried- I thought I could get the box out, but some of the ones on top of it fell onto me, so I-“

“You didn’t manage to get this?” Master smiled, holding up the tape. “I nabbed it while I was gallantly rescuing you.”

“Th-thank you,” Rowe said, almost breathlessly. “That’s great, thank you M-Master, thank you.”

Master reached over and ruffled his hair, and this time Rowe flinched only a tiny bit. “You were still the man for the job, Rowe. You found them. Well done.”

“What’s on the tape, Master?”

“Me as a little kid. I thought it might make for an entertaining watch. I had even more impressive curls as a toddler, you know.”

Nothing sounded better. Rowe could see what it was like to grow up as a person. What a normal family was like. The thought of sitting on the sofa and watching it with Master made him feel normal, too.

-

tagging since i’ve judged this long enough to deserve it: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lave-e @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @thekatastrophic @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump

[hellishvu]

Imagine BTS (hyung line): when they are drunk

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol / drunk behavior

Author’s Note: holy moly i actually posted? me? vu? posting in the year 2020? impossible! i decided a imagine would be the best way to get back into posting. i for some reason was trying to write big stories to get back into posting??? makes no sense my brain? but enjoy this! i’ve had this idea for some time!! love you <33333

Kim Namjoon: <3

Namjoon enjoys a classic drink or two, like when you two celebrate a win but sometimes it’s difficult since there are too many wins to count. You cheered with Namjoon as you two held the glass of celebration. Thoughout the night many glasses were cheered.

“I-I am very drunk.” Namjoon slurred on his words in the fancy restaurant. It wasn’t embarrassing for you, you found it enjoyable seeing Namjoon let loose.

“I can tell Namjoon.” You snickered when you held his hand across the table, seeing him take another sip of his wine. “You’re still pretty though.”

Soon enough you saw Namjoon wide eyes teary while you sprinted to action. “Why are you crying baby?” Asking he started to cry more.

“You love me. I’m so happy you do.” You chuckle caressing his hand still. Namjoon wipes his tears, he won’t remember what happened here but it will be safe in your heart.

“C-can you give me a piggyback?” Namjoon slurrs again finishing another cup of wine. You nod before responding “Is that all you want?”

“Snacks... like chips... kisses.. and cuddles.” Namjoon pouts, seeing the billing you paid it off quickly so you can get Namjoon home.

“Let’s go home sweetheart.” You stood next to him reaching out to him to stand up. Namjoon softly on your back his breathing ragged due to alcohol in his system.

Kim Seokjin: <3

Seokjin was with the group at a local bar, they wanted to stop by get some food and some drinks before ending their busy week. At some point of the night Seokjin called you to join in on the fun but since work made you a little late you joined in when everyone was a bit tispy, more then others.

“Hey Y/N, you’ve made it.” Namjoon greets you while you put your workbag on the ground. Looking around the bar to find Seokjin. Namjoon notices telling you “Oh Seokjin? He’s wasted to put it in short terms.”

“What would you rate it?”

“10.” Namjoon quickly blurted out, you chuckled walking towards Seokjin with his empty glasses. It didnt take much for him to get tipsy so you weren’t too worried about it.

“Give me more shots! It’s on me!” Seokjin cheers his shot glass in the air before you set it down for him.

“No I don’t think-“ You dismissed the bartender. Seokjin staring at you up and down, before winking at you.

“Also more of this sexy man!” Seokjin slurrs on his words. He’s definitely checking you out, not like he hasn’t seen all of you already, passing a slow tip to the bartender for dealing with Seokjin.

“Seokjin we are literally dating.” Giving him some of your water. It wont fix the problem but it will give his system something non-toxic.

“I got lucky! Best boyfriend shot gimme!” Seokjin cheers for the bartender once again. You grab him by his hand walking out of the bar with a very drunk Seokjin.

Min Yoongi: <3

“Drunk Yoongi incoming.” You read the text message by Taehyung. The quiet late night was disrupted by your beautiful boyfriend. The nice kind of disruption, one you were happy it happen.

When you heard the knock you went to the door, Yoongi was being held by Taehyung. His head draped down and his entire body slouched.

“You definitely weren’t lying.” You grabbed Yoongi’s hand slowly transferring him from Taehyung to you. His soft groans while you held him up, praying he didn’t vomit on your shoulder. Thanking Taehyung he had left. You rested him on the bed, taking off his clothes and placing some quick pajamas.

“Hmmmm hh.” Yoongi’s long groan his arms clinging onto you. Almost like a monkey his entire body on the side of you. “Call me kitten.” Yoongi kisses your cheek.

“Kitten? That is new.” You giggle playing with his hair waiting for his heart to relax so he could fall asleep.

“Always wanted y-you to call me that.” Yoongi hick ups his face flustered from the alcohol in his system. Feeling the butterflies in his stomach he kisses you softly on the lips.

“Love you kitten.” You softly whisper returning the kiss. Yoongi smiling in the kiss till his eyes got heavy, slowly coming down from being drunk. He falls asleep resting on your shoulder.

The next morning you saw him gone, Yoongi was making noise in the kitchen. Searching for something as you saw him looking through mutiple cabinets.

“What are you looking for kitten?” You asked immediately seeing Yoongi turn his head from the name “Kitten”.

“Me?” Yoongi questions you wrapping your arms around his waist. “Yes you kitten.” Kissing his neck Yoongi doesn’t know how you knew his weakness for the pet name kitten but it will be your own little secret.

Jung Hoseok: <3

“Hoseok. You are s-so drunk!” Jimin leans on him while he giggles. Hoseok drinking another cup of wine along with a salty snack. “Wha-What time is it?” Jimin asks in his hotel room shared with Hoseok.

The last tour date was today and they surived a entire tour, months of traveling and preforming, came to this day. Relaxing and rewinding before a flight back home to Korea.

“Fu-Fuck, it’s 2am.” Hoseok sighs slouching in the hotel couch in Jimin’s room. Seeing the clear night sky being lit up by the cities light’s. Hoseok stood up slowly walking towards the door.

“Alright-t goodnight Jimin. Love you.” Hoseok does a peace sign before bailing out of the room. He later walks through the halls to your room, opening it with the spare key you gave him.

Hoseok plops himself on the bed cuddling next to you while you groan being woken up. “I’m so wasted...Y/N.” He laughs loudly snorting.

“Hoseok go to bed.” You fluttered your eyes seeing him burrying his face into your neck. Throwing some of your blanket on him.

“But I want cuddles, this is normal sober or drunk.” Hoseok pouts, you give in wrapping your hand around his waist pulling him closer still smelling the stench of wine in his body odor.

“Love you.” Hoseok mumbles softly not knowing the massive hang-over he’ll experience when he wakes up but you know you’ll be by his side every step of the way.

[emmaruthrundlesh]

Emma Ruth Rundle Interview // Rock’n’Roll Journalist

(via Rock’n’Roll Journalist) “Dark” singer-songwriter is a term which deserves an official registration based on the modern wave of talented female artists. Next to Chelsea Wolfe, there is also Emma Ruth Rundle rapidly building her space on the market. Her captivating voice and an amazing taste for cold melodies are more than addictive. If you look at her list of favorite albums, the magic of her sound suddenly makes more sense. In addition we also spoke about her gear, challenges on a tour and beauties of Prague, which is also on her current European tour schedule on 18th of October.

Would like to give some introduction to your list?

This is not so much a list of my favorite albums of all time. Much of these are rather pieces I return to over and over as they are especially significant for me.

40 Watt Sun – The Inside Room (2011)

One of my all time favorite albums, English 3 piece, 40 Watt Sun, combine a slower, heavy guitar driven washes over which Patrick Walker literally pours his heart out. HIs lyrics and voice are incredibly eloquent and beautiful. The songs are, at times, in the 8 plus minute category so there is plenty of time to be reeled into their world and taken through Walker’s emotional landscapes. One of my biggest influences in the last few years.

Kate Bush – The Sensual World (1989)

A longstanding favorite and go to listen for me. Kate Bush has a few phases and different sounding albums but there is always her at the core. I think The Sensual World has become the diamond album in her discography, for me, because of the song Love and the Anger. It’s one of the catchiest and uplifting songs I’ve ever heard. Just watch the video and see Kate dancing at the end…How can you not fall in love? Also some really tasteful world influence and killer guitar by David Gilmour on Rocket’s Tale. Love it all the way through.

Smashing Pumpkins – Siamese Dream (1993)

It’s very frustrating to wake up and look at the internet these days only to be greeted by any number of people and music blogs STILL making fun of Billy Corgan – not going to lie, it bums me out and makes me feel sad for a world of critics who can’t take it the simple fact that Billy has recorded THE BEST guitar tone of all time and he did so on Siamese Dream. The songwriting is brilliant and this is really an album that takes you to a place, especially by the time you reach Silverfuck. Sure, I jump over the hits – I don’t need to hear Today every time I want to enjoy this masterpiece but if you’re somehow not familiar take the whole trip and revel in what I think is some of the most important guitar playing of the 90’s.

James Blake – Self Titled (2011)

A groundbreaking beauty of an album. James Blake managed to write and produce this minimal pop R and B (with strong classical influences) that won him the Mercury Prize. There is nothing but pure perfection and genius on this record. Even the cover art is elegant and humble in a way. I guess there is some sense of humility in Blake’s writing that takes me in even further and I become invested in all his repetitive and disintegrated lines, waiting for them to break or modulate in any number of ways as they do on this album.

Cloakroom – Time Well (2018)

I came to know Cloakroom just by association. They had done a lot of touring with label mates Russian Circles as well as some other folks I know. I sort of disregarded this band for a time – not sure why – but when Time Well came out on Relapse earlier this year, I was completely head over heals in love with these Midwestern boys. The guitar playing and textures as well as the cleverly timed riffs (for lack of a better word, this band isn’t metal at all but heavy in a deferent way) and the bonus of Doyle’s of introspective vocal has won them a very special place in my heart and headphones.

Brian Eno – Thursday Afternoon (1985)

In his 11th studio album, Eno has fully mastered the very new world he himself pioneered and invented: Ambient music. Thursday Afternoon is just one long daydream of a song with nothing but the babbling of the synthesized (or whatever he’s employed on this) brook. Nothing “happens” on this album. There is no break or moment of great change or rhythm even… it’s just the most relaxing music on Earth which is why I find my way back to it so often. Pure peace streamed right from the source of new sound.

I’m not an ethnomusicologist

Tori Amos – Boys for Pele (1996)

Tori Amos peaked, for me, on this 18 track album. It was her first time self producing as well and there is something so fierce and desperate in her lyrics and voice. While generally regarded as a singer songwriter, which I think conjures up a picture of a subdued character sitting in a coffee shop somewhere, Tori is really more of a badass and this album rocks it ways though piano and harpsichord driven tunes. I love everything about how the record was recorded and sounds as well. Even the music videos that came from this album are great. If you don’t know, you should.

Earth – Hex; Or Printing the Infernal Method (2005)

I am not sure when I first became aware of the legendary instrumental band Earth but I am sure it was later on in life than for some other more tuned in people. Hex is an album that I listened to a lot while on tour and desperately in need of refuge from the chaos of being trapped with so many other people traveling across the globe. Hex is like a soundtrack and works incredibly well for someone who’s trapped staring out a window, avoiding conversations for most of the day. If there was ever a time to describe something as dusty sounding, this is it. Having really loved the Neil Young soundtrack to Dead Man – Hex felt like a sister album to me or in that world. It has a special ability to take you into a barren landscape and push out all your youngness which is so needed!

The Body – No One Deserves Happiness (2016)

This record came into my life at a time of physiologically shattering life change and a very hot summer in LA. Most would describe The Body and an “experimental” or harsh noise (at times) project. No One Deserves Happiness introduces female forward singing over the backdrop of the bands soul reaping sounds. Chip’s hollow screams have manifested a truly horrific creature in my mind. There is a blend of classical reverence and choral singing within The Body’s noise land and it turns on a part of my brain while listening. I feel comforted by this album somehow.

Stars Of The Lid – And Their Refinement Of The Decline (2007)

Another instrumental masterpiece – SOTL also have classical inclinations or leanings or is this contemporary classical music? I’m not an ethnomusicologist. Washes of treated instruments grip your xanaxed out sandbag body and drag you slowly and mournfully in waves under a pink ocean of wonder and obliteration of the self. I have fallen asleep in my most anxiety ridden times to this album as it swallows you like no other can.

In the heart of Europe

In late October you will be coming to Prague to very intimate club called 007. Did you ever have a chance to properly walk around Prague?

I never played a solo show in Prague, but I performed here with my previous bands already. Every time I made sure, me and my band mates have enough time to check the city. It was amazing every time and I just can’t wait to come again. I visited Prague the last time in 2010 and our tour manager was Tomáš Zakopal, who was local, so he prepared a beautiful commented tour for us.

Could you please present to us your collection of guitars? From the most recent live footages I see you are a big fan of Fender guitars and especially a model called Coronado II.

This piece actually belongs to Evan Patterson, who plays guitar in my band as well in my support band Jaye Jayle. Guitar #1 in my collection is a classic mahogany piece from Cordoba. There is also one from Chinese brand Blueridge, inspired by OM model OM from Martin…(I’m sorry, I am little bit sick)… Within electric guitars my most favorite is standard Gibson SG. It was quite cheap second hand acquisition in one music store. Another piece is Fender Baritone Jaguar special HH. Then there is Fender Stratocaster. I can’t remember the exact model, but it’s quite unique as it has two humbuckers. Next to that I also have one white model from Guild. Longer I play I realize it is very important for me to have two humbuckers within electric guitars. And finally there is one really crappy SG, which I would really like to get rid of, as it is badly made. (Laugh)

Some preferences within microphones?

I use BLUE enCORE 200 the most. Probably as it was a gift. I like its sound, as it can work very well with mids and highs. Another reason is very practical. I realized I get sick more often if I use in-house microphones. If I use my own microphone, I have bigger chances to stay well.

Life on a tour

I am sorry, you don’t feel well. Do you think it’s also because of air conditioners during this years’ crazy summer season?

Not sure to be honest. I was just getting back from a European tour and I must have caught something on a plain.

Longer I play I realize it is very important for me to have two humbuckers within electric guitars

How are you trying to stay in a good shape on a tour? There is a European tour coming up during fall and that’s quite challenging season for immunity.

One can just do maximum and hope. If I can, I try to stay warm and eat plenty of hot meals. I try to rest, as much as I can and get plenty of sleep. But it’s not always that easy, where there is so much drinking and everything else which belongs to a tour life. It is practically a miracle if you survive a tour without any harm.

Is there some European location, which you really look forward to visit during upcoming European tour? It doesn’t necessarily have to be Prague…

It’s funny, as everybody in the team looks forward for the Prague the most. Evan is practically obsessed with Prague and I just can’t wait to meet friends, which I haven’t seen for years. I am also looking forward to see Porto, Lisbon and also Madrid, as I’ve never been to Spain. In general I love to visit well known places as well as completely new locations.