#our hollow our home

[metalshockfinland]

OUR HOLLOW OUR HOME Release New Single 'The Worst In Me'

Photo Credit: Oli Duncanson Southampton metalcore juggernaut Our Hollow, Our Home have released their newest single ‘The Worst In Me’, another glimpse of their upcoming album – their last – Hope & Hell (27th September, Arising Empire).  The latest single returns to their roots with a dynamic and intense sound, spotlighting the raw emotional depth and technical prowess that the band is known…

[crmsndragonwngss]

Oh, If I could find a way to rewrite fate or turn back time

Then I would trade your life for mine

I swear to God, I'd do it every time, every time

Now I burn with anxiety, I let the guilt be my gasoline

If I could trade your life for mine

I swear to God I'd do it every time

(Every time)

[gbhbl]

Single Slam: Nails, STESY, Gravemind, Hats Off Gentlemen It's Adequate, Seven Years After Violet, Hands of Attrition, Scarlet Rebels, Mushroomhead, Enumclaw, Thotcrime, Rising Insane, Eville, Clay J Gladstone, Avalanche, Vulvodynia, Rok Ali and The Addiction, Our Hollow, Our Home, Void of Vision, JD Power Trio, and Winterfylleth!

Today’s single slam features Nails, STESY, Gravemind, Hats Off Gentlemen It's Adequate, Seven Years After Violet, Hands of Attrition, Scarlet Rebels, Mushroomhead, Enumclaw, Thotcrime, Rising Insane, Eville, Clay J Gladstone, Avalanche, Vulvodynia, Rok Ali and The Addiction, Our Hollow, Our Home, Void of Vision, JD Power Trio, and Winterfylleth.

Today’s single slam features Nails, STESY, Gravemind, Hats Off Gentlemen It’s Adequate, Seven Years After Violet, Hands of Attrition, Scarlet Rebels, Mushroomhead, Enumclaw, Thotcrime, Rising Insane, Eville, Clay J Gladstone, Avalanche, Vulvodynia, Rok Ali and The Addiction, Our Hollow, Our Home, Void of Vision, JD Power Trio, and Winterfylleth. You can read our thoughts about the latest singles…

[renafucka]

“LIVE映像” Our Hollow, Our Home 元メンバー時の映像

since 2010/6/9

“ここは基本的に俺が聴いた音源を勝手にレビューする所です。 Tweet #Ren_AfuckingA

“あくまでも俺が思った事を書いて行くだけですパクリ等についてはネタとしては扱いますが批判はしません”

スクリームをフューチャーしたメタル音楽を総称して"エクストリームメタル"と呼んでいます。

ポスコア/メタルコア/デスコア/スクリーモ/など等もちろんエクストリームであることと同時にメロディアスであることも重要です。

ここではそうした音楽を紹介していきます。”

最近クリーンボーカル兼ギター以外のメンバーが脱退し新たなメンバーで活動中のイギリスのポストハードコアバンド” Our Hollow, Our Home “のライブ映像です。

脱退の理由は”家庭を持つ人になった為ちゃんとした収入が欲しいから仕事するらしい”

別に辞めなくてもよくねえか？って思いますしはっきり言って怒ってるほんまに才能の塊のメンバーだったから残念ですあとリスナー側の気持ちも考えて欲しいわ…

🎧 Setlist:

1) 01:15 - Monarch

2) 04:57 - Better Daze

3) 09:00 - Loneshark

4) 13:21 - Remember Me

5) 17:34 - Hartsick

6) 22:40 - Wraiths

7) 27:17 - Shatterdome

8) 32:03 - Karmadillo

9) 35:35 - Overcast

10) 40:08 - Seven Years (Shine a Light On Me)

11) 44:05 - Burn in the Flood

[ripfoghorn]

Just don't let go Keep your eyes on the road We're in this together You're never alone I know it's hard But you've gotta trust me

[beginagain--]

Our Hollow, Our Home Release New Single, 'Idlewaves'

Our Hollow, Our Home Release New Single, ‘Idlewaves’

Ahead of their forthcoming European and UK Tour, Our Hollow, Our Home have released a new single, “Idlewaves”.  The brand new track showcases the heavier side of OHOH’s eclectic yet balanced contrast of sounds, combining a wide array of blistering breakdowns and technical guitar work with a classic, infectious sing-along chorus. Check out ‘Idlewaves’ below.

[athen0910]

Taylor Swift Songs

Enchanted Siren x Kappa

Style scream Buddy x Chase

Red scream Keith x Lance

Love Story scream Harumi x Akihiko

NO ONE CHANGE MY MIND

[scattered-winter]

.

[lesbiangummybearmafia]

We're killing our planet everyday. We're running out of time to fit what we can. Yet governments all over the world hold summits speak hollow promises to fix or change this or that by 2030, it's always 2030... I doubt highly any of it will be done by then. Huge companies and corporations who are the largest problem are not being rained in. The powers that be try to drop it on us like using metal straws is going to stop the climate crisis! Humans because of what are doing to our one and our only home... we're vermin, we're a plague!

[tatoasting]

Hehe, I really like them <3

[13thpythagoras]

Graze Or Massive Impact? Our Moon's Formation | Neil deGrasse Tyson

Neil deGrasse Tyson on the moon and its core: 

“It’s got no iron core; it’s got nothing.” 

May be a Fruedian slip but it’s true that the moon is hollow, the apollo 12 mission’s seismic survey, as well as subsequent lunar seismic surveys, have confirmed that the moon, if you drop a 10 lb weight (i.e. a bowling ball) on it from over a thousand feet up, the moon rings for over an hour, possibly multiple hours. This is only physically possible if the moon is hollow, it’s one of science’s most odd and best-kept yet nigh-disputed secret facts

[metalshockfinland]

OUR HOLLOW OUR HOME Release New Single + Video 'In Reflection'

Photo Credit: Oli Duncanson Southampton metalcore juggernaut Our Hollow, Our Home have released their newest single ‘In Reflection’, another glimpse of their upcoming album – their last – Hope & Hell (27th September, Arising Empire).  The brand new single offers a departure from Our Hollow, Our Home‘s usual sound with a calm acoustic track that highlights their versatility. Known for their…

[crmsndragonwngss]

Will you remember me

When my bones are cold and six feet deep?

Cause I'm holding on for you

So say you’ll remember me

On the tip of your tongue not a distant memory

I’m still holding on for you

[alnilaem]

you buy a second-hand laptop from a dodgy craigslist user only to make a carnal discovery hidden between the files.

cw for anal sex, face fucking, pet play, choking, masturbation, noncon filmed sex, overall dubcon, reader is fujoing out

ghoap (x reader)

-

You saw it in a flitting advertisement. Used Acer Aspire V5, female buyers only, and didn’t hesitate to contact the poster.

Ghost was his screen name. Macabre, but not something to dwell on because he’s selling the only affordable hand-me-down you can find. He insisted on meeting at a hole-in-the-wall pub, beneath a metal sheet awning. There’s a cigarette pinched between his lips as you approach, an overripe mask rolled over his broken nose.

“You’re our bird?” He asks in a Manchester hint, exhaling a plume of off-white smoke.

You stifle over that operative word—our—but push through it and meekly nod, preening at his feet.

Beneath the predatory glint of his eyes, you realize you’ve gravely miscalculated the calibre of this situation. Meeting a complete stranger in a gritty alleyway and waiting to pick up his scrap-metal laptop, all because it satisfies your budget.

“Yeah…” you mumble. Try to make yourself invisible even though it’s redundant—he already towers over you, his shadow eclipsing your body, his heat drinking you in.

“‘ere it is,” he grunts. “You’ve got our cash?”

You hand him the crumpled wad of paper, squirming as he passes his thumb over his tongue and folds through the money, counting it with a mean curl of his lips.

“That’s– is everything alright?”

He stuffs the money into his jacket and expells a deep prusten sound, like an idle predator. “Fine. Pleasure doin’ business with you, bird.”

Ghost turns on his mud-clogged boot and strays off, letting the shadows swallow him whole. You hold the bulky laptop to your chest and wield it like a weapon on your way home, finally settling into bed, ready to examine your new purchase.

The hinges creak as you pull it open. A grimace splits your cheeks at the dust crusted in the margins, the rings of juice gummed to the mousepad.

A few letters from the keyboard are missing, and a few strips of tape look dog-eared, peeling from the corners, exposing the laptop’s internal wiring. Gossamer-like, spiderweb cracks work across the edges. The screen is a blotchy eyesore, striated with horizontal lines.

You have to beat your knuckles on the laptop to keep it from jamming. You navigate the desktop with simmering irritation, invaded by the inkling that you’ve been utterly scammed. Nothing matches the photos advertised on Ghost’s account, and just as your annoyance is about to ripen into white-hot anger, something catches your eye.

It’s nestled into a nook on the desktop. It’s an unnamed folder that stares back at you, unassuming, the icon already half-opened and waiting to be examined.

You double click it, more like triple click, actually, since the mousepad decides to cramp, and squirm as the folder flares over the screen. It’s a collection of videos, their thumbnails all spotty and dark, eclipsed by the thumb of whoever’s holding the camera.

Their titles are as cryptic as their photos.

wet.avi; tail_plug.avi; no_prep.avi; with_price.avi.

You find yourself scrolling lower, your fingers working against the mousepad like a rapidly unfurling spool of thread. You decide to investigate one of the videos, one with a foggy, filmy thumbnail, and carefully heed the title before poising your finger above the open function.

johnny_leash.avi

The video is grainy, as if it was imported from a camcorder rather than a phone. The first few seconds are a blurry with grey-scale strobes running across the screen, radiating an aura of seediness that makes a hint of discomfort sink like sediment in your stomach, adhering to your viscera. A deep, damp squelching sound peals out, tempered with the sticky noise of something being broken in, hollowed out.

The camera ebbs, settles, then focuses all at once. You think you’re going to faint.

It’s someone’s puffy ass getting stretched out on a fat cock. It puckers and tightens with each piston-paced thrust, red.

A large hand belonging to the person recording enters the frame. Their hand tattoos stretch as they split their palm across the hind of their spine, the cameraman’s fingers digging sickle-shaped scratches into their back, clawing them down on their battering ram of a cock.

“Quit whinin’, Johnny,” the voice behind the camera loudly grunts.

The one getting split open, Johnny, snivels into the pillow. His spine is curved into the mattress, his ass pert and sticking in the air, rippling with the force of the cameraman’s hips.

A plume of dust travels over the screen, fleetingly concealing the image. When the soot thins into the air and bares the salacious material of the video, you gasp.

There’s a glint caught on something silver from the feeble lightning. It’s a chrome-plated chain, you see, connecting to Johnny’s throat. A leather collar cutting into his ruddy skin. The leash is wrapped around the cameraman’s hand like a reel, and each time he tugs, pulling his hand back as if winding up for an attack, Johnny gets peeled off the bed, his back arching so deep you’re sure it’s close to snapping.

“Shit, Simon—!” He squeals. “Can ye… slow down?”

The aforementioned Simon grunts. Animalistic, like a rabid predator. The camera whirls, the unromantic colours of the room they’re in bleeding into each other, and when it focuses, you see Simon’s large palm splayed against the back of Johnny’s half-shaven skull, gripping his hair, pushing him into the bed.

The man flails like a fish out of water, struggling under his hand. It prompts an emergency response out of you—the way he’s being fucked into the mattress, no doubt pressing a Johnny-shaped chalk outline like the ones at crime scenes into the bedding. Alarm seizes you, and the thought of submitting this to the authorities trumpets like strobe lights in your mind.

The video is written with inept non-professionalism, reeking with the sentiment of a found-footage horror film that it’s not the authenticity that rattles your bones like a wind chime, but the morality.

You tell yourself to stop the video, but as the thought squeezes itself between your ears, Johnny’s hoisting his neck back and peering into the camera, his striking-blue eyes flaring in all-encompassing horror. His lips pop open and wrap around a soundless scream, warbling.

“Yer recordin’ me?”

“Smile for the camera, Johnny,” Simon pants. “Who knows who might see this, right?”

Simon shoots his hand up and bullies his fingers past Johnny’s lips. He sinks his nails into the round of his mouth, stretching his cheek back into a repugnant curl. It’s paradoxial—how Johnny’s mouth is pulled into a smile, but his eyes are wide and wet, wordlessly begging.

Your body betrays your moral plight.

Your rapt ocular vein, the signals rushing to your mind, your nipples stiffening in your shirt. You feel as though you’re made of livewire, not matter, as you watch Johnny’s ass get spread open on Simon’s cock, his eyes rolling like unruly billiard balls to the back of his head.

His ass is red and patchy, burning up. Simon’s hand swats through the air and makes the sound of a whistle, flaring into a booming crack of thunder whenever he brings it down on Johnny’s ass. It makes you jump. Makes you feel as if your ass is being abused by proxy just by sitting, and watching raptly.

Instead of inching your hand towards the button that exits the video, your hand dips below your waistband and moves to cup your cunt.

The gusset of your panties is already hot, clinging to your dewy core. It sticks to your pussy, baring your puffy lips and swollen clit. You give it a few slaps and rub your fingers languidly, pace quickening.

But the video abruptly ends before the ascent to your pleasure is able to materialize. You yank your hand from your pussy, smearing your arousal on the mousepad as you search for another video.

You don’t heed the title—face_fuck.avi—before clicking it and readily spreading your legs, flushing at the sound of your lips parting.

The video starts, and you swear it feels like you’ve been hit with a brick.

Simon—or Ghost, you now recognize—is a behemoth. Huge would be an understatement for him. The camera is set up this time, somewhere across the room, but Simon still just barely fits within the margins. He’s folded over Johnny who sits on his knees with his back against the wall, his neck hoisted up at him.

Simon’s cock is fat and heavy. He’s hard—this, you’re sure of because of how red his balls are—yet still, his cock droops with weight, the bulbous tip scarcely teasing Johnny’s lips.

“You want your snack, boy?”

Johnny nods. He darts his tongue out and tries kitten licking the slit, but Simon isn’t having that. He grips the base of his dick and swats it against Johnny’s cheek, slapping him, the noise so thick and resounding it sounds like a palm that breaks his skin, not a cock.

“Greedy bitch,” Ghost snarls—you decide that name is more seemly for him—“Can’t wait when it comes to dick, huh?”

Johnny’s lips part, a response poised behind his chattering teeth. However, his reply gets snuffed out and shoved to the back of his throat as Ghost feeds him his cock, slamming into him with one, slick motion.

Johnny’s head hits the wall, his face puckering as pain blooms behind his skull. The action makes his jaw clench, clamping down on Simon’s cock, but Simon is quickly gripping his hair and puppeting his head back, sliding his cock deeper, until the tuft of steel-wool hair on his pelvis brushes Johnny’s nose.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ghost grunts. “No teeth.”

The only mercy Johnny is afforded is when he sinks his nails into the sinews of Ghost’s thighs, scratching him striated, trying to offset the burn in his jowls. The back of his head thumps dumbly against the wall with each of Ghost’s jackhammering thrusts, his smaller cock springing up and slapping against his navel.

You keen. Rub your clit a little faster, tease your forefinger around your winking hole as spit and precome sticks to Johnny’s chin the same way your juices strings your fingers together. Johnny goes lax and the video abruptly ends, and you almost feel yourself going crazy, hastily exiting the video because you miss the phantom sensation around your cunt getting stretched. You click on another video that has your heart jumping to your throat.

It’s dated from just yesterday, two days after you placed the order with Ghost.

breeding_my_boy.avi

Your panties are completely soaked through at this point. The image of Johnny folded like origami under Ghost, eclipsed by his body, makes you gush. His knees are pressed against his ears and his ass is in the air while Ghost tugs his cock, towering over him and pressing his tip against his hole, slowly sinking into him.

Simultaneously, you hook two of your fingers up your cunt. Your arousal seeps out and pools into the divots between your knuckles, hot and wet, making a sucking sound as you draw your fingers out and thrust them back in, pawing your walls.

Ghost pulls his cock to the tip before driving himself back inside. He’s deeply-seated, knocking the air out of Johnny’s lungs with each stroke. Ghost draws his thighs close for leverage and sinks his fists into the bed, on either side of Johnny before snapping his hips, feeding him his whole cock.

You sink your other hand below your pants and blindly sweep at your clit, watching with keen eyes as Johnny gets pounded into the mattress, his legs thrashing dumbly with the force, his hands twisting into the moth-eaten sheets because he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands and according to Ghost, he’s “not allowed to touch his cock.”

You can barely see Ghost’s sweat in the coarse-grained, gritty video filter. It comes out as glistening dew, dribbling down his neck and onto Johnny’s cheek, to which he swiftly laps up.

It’s the same thing for Johnny’s tears—sparkling in the soft smoulder of light, smearing like spread as Ghost works his rough tongue against his cheek, licking up his brine.

Johnny’s whimpers and the crack of flesh against flesh emanate out of the janky laptop as tinny, thin. However as Ghost lowers his head, grumbling against the hull of Johnny’s ear, whispering, the thin sound travels out of the speakers and punctures your stomach.

“Wish I could breed you, pup…”

Pleasure gyrates in your belly, frothy. You curl your toes into your mattress and buck into your fingers, feeling your orgasm beginning to crest. You pinch your clit the same way Ghost snakes his hand low, trapping the tip of Johnny’s cock between his fingers to squeeze.

“Smile a’ the camera, dog,” he mutters. Takes him by the jaw and dimples his cheeks as he makes Johnny look into the lens, his eyes glossed over.

“Y’reckon she’s touching herself?” Ghost growls. “Watching you turn a mess?”

Your orgasm is on the edge now. Ghost looks at the camera, his eyes glowing like predators do on trail cams, a swill of molten rushing through you. He looks like he did beneath the awning—animalistic, as he seems to stare directly at you, snapping into Johnny’s ass.

“m gonnae come…” Johnny whimpers.

Ghost chokes his hand around Johnny’s cock, sliding his hand up and down to the pace of his thrusts. And with what happens next, your body girdles, throwing itself into the throes of your panoramic orgasm.

It’s Johnny. Bending his back off the bed and squeezing his thighs. He moans your name—your screen name—the one used to purchase the laptop. He treats it like something to bite on to defer the pain of his orgasm, trembling.

Thick ropes of come shoot from his cock just as an off-white liquid escapes you, splattering over the screen. You’re quivering as Ghost fills Johnny, watching as his balls tighten and breathe like a pulse as he comes inside.

The three of you are miraculously synchronized. Your laboured breaths simmer, thinning into nothing, as the two of them turn to look at the camera.

You undertake the decision to keep the laptop.

And a week later while browsing Craigslist’s homepage, you stumble across a familiar username.

Posted by Ghost 32 minutes ago.

Looking for a flatmate in Manchester. Two roommates. Three bedroom. Females only. Serious inquiries only.

A second doesn’t pass before you’re writing up your application.

[palms-upturned]

Nothing feels transgressive or even important anymore. Everything feels so hollow. So much of queer and disabled theory and labor activism is about bodily autonomy but what autonomy do we truly have? What kind of autonomy do the tens of thousands of newly disabled people in Gaza have? Those who were already disabled and died because they couldn’t access care? What kind of autonomy do queer people in Gaza have when their occupiers are flying pride flags over stolen homes? What kind of autonomy do laborers have here when collective actions that don’t directly pertain to their contracts aren’t legally protected? What does anything we’ve ever fought for and won here even mean if we can’t be bothered to fight alongside our colonized siblings? I think about Rachel Corrie and I wonder how can even we in the imperial core ever claim body autonomy if our bodies and lives are forfeit the moment we put them between a bulldozer and someone’s home? But it simply doesn’t matter to most people because so few of us would ever put ourselves in that position. We don’t care about liberation beyond the point where it directly affects our comfort. How can we ever call anything we do revolutionary or transgressive? Isn’t the point of pushing boundaries and crossing lines to push until all of us are together safely on the same side? I saw footage today of a Gazan man crawling on his belly to retrieve the body of someone who’d been shot and killed by a sniper at the gate of a hospital. Anything short of that is nothing to me now. We have to be willing to cross that line out of safety before I’ll call anything radical.

[fly-sky-high-bug-games]

Text in image:

The Hollow Knight Wiki has a New Home

We would like to announce that the Hollow Knight Wiki has been moved from hollowknight.fandom.com to hollowknight.wiki.

We and a lot of our readers have been frustrated over the year with Fandom's aggressive ad campaigns, the lack of freedom in customization, and having a little say in their increasingly restrictive implementations. Because of this (and more), we decided it was time to move from Fandom.

All content from the Fandom wiki has been copied to the new site and we will abandon the former wiki. The new wiki offers WAY fewer ads, faster load times, improved design, and more independence in what we can show in our articles. The new wiki will also be the only one updated with Silksong information once the game is released.

Since the Fandom wiki can't be closed, we recommend not visiting or editing it any longer. Update your bookmarks and delete your browser history with links to the Fandom wiki. You can also try out the Indie Wiki Buddy browser extension, which will redirect any Fandom wiki links to the new wiki. We aim to overtake the Fandom wiki in search results, but we can only do it with your help.

We hope you will join us in this turning point. Share this news and make more fans aware of this development, so that new wiki can gain the attention and momentum it needs. And, as always, our pages will be open to editing. By helping out, you can improve the wiki for everyone, which is something we will greatly appreciate. Together we can build a better wiki for both Hollow Knight and Silksong.

-Hollow Knight Wiki team