#Black Sabbath Influence

[sonic-emporium]

Well you talk to me in circles as you’re hanging from your strings So blinded by the poison of your lies Slide in through the back door They led you by the hand We never seemed to see it in your eyes

And all the love you’ve lost, the dreams you cost a thousand lives Won’t even start to slow our fall, not this time And all the blood we spill, our sons who’ve died ten thousand times Won’t see the eyes behind the wall Don’t wanna see the eyes behind the wall

Told you from the first time you even tried to crawl That you were born to save us from ourselves White sheets and red crosses Broken skulls and bones They chose you to deliver us from Hell

And all the love you’ve lost, the dreams you cost a thousand lives Won’t even start to slow our fall, not this time And all the blood we spill, our sons who’ve died ten thousand times Won’t see the eyes behind the wall Don’t wanna see the eyes behind the wall

Please Mr. Nightmare Won’t you take it all away?

[vanalex]

Nice read 💚🖤

[demonsatmidnight]

This is Part 8 of DEITIES/DEMONS OF INFLUENCE THAT MAY BE CHANNELED THROUGH U.S. BANKNOTES AND COINS

Make Somebody Find You Attactive

This is meant to be a love ritual or used to gain power over others. If someone else is exercising power over you, making them find you attractive is undermining that power.

Works best at the Fifth Hour of the Day on a Thursday, during a waxing or full moon.

Demons/Deities to call upon: Great Angel Nouphiair and Typhon.

Preform purification and protection rituals.

Say:

I call on you, great angel Nouphiair of this hour. By the words ENPHAN COUPH I call on the great God Typhon to watch over this ritual.

Then say:

I call to you, great angel Nouphiair. I ask that ________ is enflamed with attraction for me.

Tell Nouphiair how you want the person to think and feel about you.

Finally, say:

Great angel Nouphiair, I give thanks for your help. As you came in peace, go in peace.

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 4

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: missing child trope, description and mention of murder, language, crawling in a narrow vent (I’m sorry my fellow claustrophobic loves), being held captive, being kidnapped

A/N: While proofreading, I realized my subconscious was probably influenced by @zepskies ’ S.I.N.G. (Beau Arlen x reader) fic — even with the different Jackles character. So, I want to give her credit for the first part of this chapter. 🤍

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 3 here

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

You couldn’t stop the giggles, even as Russell held you firm, your back flush against his chest, his hands pinning yours effortlessly. The whole thing was just… well, kind of hot, really.

“Y/N” he sighed for the hundredth time, clearly on the edge of his patience. “You can’t giggle your way out of an actual assault. Try to focus, will you? What would you do if I were someone else?”

“But you’re you” you teased, half-joking, half-distracted. “And anyway, self-defense is kind of pointless. We live in a safe neighborhood. Nobody’s going to lay a hand on me.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, his grip tightening slightly as he paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Look, sweetheart… you’re a young, attractive woman” he said finally. “It’d just make me feel better if I knew you could handle yourself if… anything happened when I’m not around.”

At the time, you had no idea what he meant by that.

“Can you hear that?” you whispered, your ears straining in mock suspense. Russell’s brows knit together as he shot you a confused look.

“Hear what?”

“Paranoid by Black Sabbath. Pretty sure it’s coming from over here,” you said, playfully poking your finger at his temple.

He deadpanned as he repeated your name once more. It sounded almost… pleading. You didnt miss that, and though you still thought he was being over-the-top, you decided to give in.

“Fine…” you sighed “show me these life-saving moves, oh, mighty master!”

Russell cracked a grin, but his expression quickly shifted to that serious trainer look he was trying way too hard to pull off.

“Alright. First rule: break their grip. Grab my wrist… Come on, like you mean it.”

You reached out, gripping his wrist, and he showed you how to twist and pull back, making it surprisingly easy to break free. “See? Leverage, not strength” he explained.

“Okay, fine. Not bad” you admitted, trying not to let him see you were actually impressed. It was kind of cool.

He moved on, showing you a move to throw off an attacker.

“Step in close, get low, and drive your shoulder up under their chin” he said, positioning himself as the attacker. You gave it a try, and he stumbled back with a laugh.

“That’s the spirit!” he said, straightening up. You didn’t miss the small glint of pride in his eyes. “Alright, one more. This time, if someone comes at you from behind.”

Before you knew it, his arms were around you from behind, pulling you close. It was very déjà vu to the way he’d started this whole lesson. “Now, if you were actually in danger—”

“Danger, yes” you teased, leaning back into him just a bit and looked up at him through your lashes. “How’s a girl supposed to focus with such a handsome teacher breathing down her neck? I’m kind of having trouble concentrating, you know.”

He shook his head, a grin slipping out as he loosened his grip. “Laugh it up, sweetheart, but I’m serious here. You’ve got this. Just remember what I taught you, alright? What’s the most important rule!”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “When in doubt… aim for the balls.”

Russell chuckled, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “That’s my girl” he said, pulling you into a kiss.

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

A sharp throb pulsed through your skull, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in your chest. The cold floor beneath you felt like concrete, but you couldn’t be sure. For now, you kept your eyes closed, trying to piece together what the hell had happened.

The last thing you remembered was the warehouse — those two men ambushing you and Russell.

It was a trap. All of it, carefully set to lure Russell back in, and you along with him.

Your thoughts turned to Russell. He had to be here, somewhere… Somewhere close. The thought pushed you to crack one eye open. Dim light filtered through, casting shadows that made everything look warped and surreal.

You sat up slowly, feeling your muscles protest as you took in your surroundings. The room was small, cramped… more like a cell than a room.

The smell of mildew filled the air, mingling with the unmistakable metallic scent of rusted metal and something else. Blood. Your pulse quickened as you took in the details, every instinct screaming that escape wasn’t an option here.

Your gaze drifted to the far corner, where a dark shape slumped against the wall. Heart pounding, you squinted through the low light, hoping beyond hope that it was him. “Russell?” you tried to call out to him, but it was more of a whisper than anything.

A soft groan answered you, and relief mixed with dread flashed through your veins. You crawled forward, ignoring the scrape of the rough floor against your palms and knees.

As you got closer, Russell’s face came into view. It was uncharacteristically pale, smeared with a hint of dried blood. It wasn’t that bad, but still… it looked like his. His breaths were shallow, his eyes half-closed, and a few small bruises bloomed across his face and arms, telling you he hadn’t escaped this unscathed.

“Hey, Russ” you murmured, reaching out to touch his shoulder gently. His nickname felt both foreign and natural falling from your lips. It’s been a while since you called him that.

His skin was cold and clammy, but at your touch, his eyes fluttered open.

“Y/N…” he rasped with a voice that was both hoarse and somewhat defeated. He took a few moments to compose himself, but he quickly took in his surroundings. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have brought you with me.”

Your heart twisted, but you forced a small smile. “Not like I gave you a choice.”

He attempted a smile, but it faded rather abruptly, leaving a shadow of worry on his face. “Where’s Colter?”

“He— he’s not here” you replied scanning the cramped cell. “Do you think they’ve added him to their collection of ‘missing persons’?”

“I don’t know. I can only hope he’s busy slapping some sense into our captors while we’re stuck here” he said, as he tried to stand up.

As the weight of the situation settled in, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway.

You exchanged wary glances, instinctively stepping closer together.

The door to your cell creaked open, revealing a man in a brown suede jacket, sunglasses — mind you, it was inside a semi-dark room — flanked by two guards. Your heart raced as he stepped in, a self-assured smirk playing on his mischievous lips.

Behind him, a small figure shuffled into view, clutching a foreign stuffed toy anxiously.

Emma.

“Look who’s here” the man said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Emma’s wide eyes scanned the room, filled with confusion and fear. “Mommy?”

You felt your heart stop. “Baby girl”

As those words left your lips, Russell seemed frozen in place, his mind momentarily shutting down. It was the first time he was face-to-face with her, his daughter. He took in her small figure, the way she clutched a stuffed toy she probably got from these men tightly, and the wide green eyes that reflected the fear of the days spent in captivity.

His face shifted from pure shock to something that looked like it hurt, like a dam just burst inside him. For a second, all the chaos, the danger, everything melted away, leaving just the connection he felt for her.

But the moment didn’t last long, quickly swallowed up by the harsh reality. You saw the pain flicker in Russell’s eyes as he processed it all. “You’re okay, sweetheart” you assured Emma, stepping closer —only for Mr Douche’s goons to block your path with a grunt. You shot him a look, then turned back to Emma. “We’re getting you out of here.”

The man in his Aviators chuckled, sounding like a cold, amused cacophony. “Isn’t this all so touching?” he said with a mocking smile. Then, his face turned serious. “Shaw, it’s good to see you. Been what? Five? Six months”

Russell didn’t answer, clearly not falling to his little tricks. The man spoke up again. “But let’s not forget why we’re here. You’ve got a decision to make. And this time, it’s not just about you.”

You shot a glare his way before leaning closer to Russell. “Who the hell is this guy?” you whispered.

Russell’s answer was dry as his eyes stayed fixed on the man. “The greatest jackass of all time.”

This was James Rourke, head honcho at Horizon, the very top of the food chain in the world Russell once belonged to. Rourke looked out of place in his fancy brown suede jacket, like he’d wandered in from some luxury lounge instead of a prison cell. And his mustache — a perfectly trimmed little fucking pornstache, practically begging to be mocked — did nothing to make him look any less ridiculous.

Rourke’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the tension. He glanced over at Emma, who clutched her stuffed toy tighter, her little eyes darting between you and Russell. “Sweet girl” he said, his voice soaked with fake warmth “you must be wondering what’s going on. Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense soon.”

“Leave her out of this,” you snapped.

Rourke tilted his head, smirking like he found your defiance cute. “Oh, sweetie,” he drawled, flashing that irritatingly smug smile. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands.” He glanced at Russell, his eyebrows lifted with mock surprise. “Come on, Russell. Did you actually believe you could just walk away?”

Russell’s jaw tightened. “I’m done playing by your rules, Rourke.”

Rourke’s eyes lit up with that twisted, almost playful glint, like he was savoring every second of Russell’s resistance. “Oh, Russell, you seem confused. There is no choice here. You either come back… or things might get, well, complicated.” His gaze slid over to Emma, who instinctively shrank back, catching the meaning immediately, even if not completely.

Your heart hammered in your chest. “You wouldn’t dare” you hissed.

Rourke laughed, sounding genuinely amused this time. “Oh, wouldn’t I? Let’s just say I believe in incentives.” He shot a dark look at Russell “So, either you get back in line… or your little girl here learns just how persuasive I can be.”

The room went ice-cold. Russell’s fists clenched as he glared at Rourke. “You leave her out of this. She’s got nothing to do with your mess.”

Rourke shrugged like he was discussing the weather. "Then stop pretending you’re free to leave. You knew the fine print when you signed up.” He stepped back, giving the guards a nod like they were his personal fan club. “Think it over, both of you. And just a heads-up… I don’t make empty promises.”

As Rourke strode out — with Emma being pulled by her tiny hand, crying out for wanting to stay with you — he shot a final smug look over his shoulder, and the guards followed, slamming the cell door shut behind them.

You sighed as the lock clicked, trapping you both in again. But Russell wasn’t about to throw in the towel. Staying put? Not a chance. Not with you and Emma tangled in this nightmare, and definitely not with Rourke trying to pull the strings.

His gaze swept the cell, then froze on something up high: an air vent, nearly hidden behind a stack of old crates.

“Perfect” he muttered, a hint of determination lighting up his face.

He grabbed one of the crates and slid it under the vent, then looked at you with that familiar spark in his eye. He hauled one of the crates over and tapped it, motioning for you to step up. “Give me a hand up, sweetheart. If we can get the screws loose, we’re gone.”

The nickname caught you off-guard. It fell so easily from his mouth, yet, it seemed so bittersweet now. “Sweetheart?”

He flashed a quick grin, already reaching for the vent. “Old habits die hard. Now, help me with this, yeah?”

You nodded, steadying him as he climbed up and started working on the vent cover. Using a rusty nail he pried from one of the crates, Russell twisted at the screws, working them free with grunts of effort.

With the last screw finally out, you both heard voices echoing from the hallway. Adrenaline kicked in as you climbed up and squeezed into the narrow vent, praying this actually led somewhere.

You hated this. Your claustrophobic ass was kicking you from the inside. How did you end up in a mess like this?

“How are you holding up?” he asked in a whisper, but the concern in his voice was unmistakable. Right. He remembered.

“Stop talking, continue crawling.” you said hurriedly. The less you acknowledged the suffocating surroundings, the better.

YYou crawled along, knees scraping, until you spotted a grate at the end. Kicking it loose, you dropped into a pitch-black storage room. Quietly, you slipped into the hallway beyond, letting Russell lead — his sure footing somehow both reassuring and a little unnerving.

“You know this place?” you whispered, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice.

“Nah” he muttered, casting a glance around. “Just following my instincts.”

“Oh, good. And what do your instincts say about where Emma is?”

Then, like something straight out of a scripted movie, you heard it: a small voice that was unmistakably hers. “Mommy?”

You turned the corner, and there she was, standing behind a closed door with a small window, clutching her stuffed toy. No guards in sight felt like a miracle. Relief and desperation flooded you all at once. The door was locked tight, and there was no key laying around, for obvious reasons.

You watched with a continuously racing heart as Russell pulled a paperclip from his pocket — of all things — and straightened it. “Can’t believe they missed this little bad boy” he murmured, working it into the lock. His gun and knife hadn’t been as lucky; those were gone in an instant. But the paperclip? Somehow, it had slipped right past their search.

With a quiet click, the lock gave way, and Russell shot you a quick, triumphant grin.

You threw the door wide, scooping Emma into your arms as her tiny hands clung to you like a lifeline. She was trembling. Crying.

“Shh, baby girl” you whispered, holding her close. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Russell debated to reach out, but decided now was not the time for a great family reunion. His eyes darted down the hall. “Alright, let’s get out of here before Rourke’s even had his morning coffee.”

“What about Colter?”

“I don’t know if he’s here. And the sooner we get her and you out of here, the better chances of… this ending good.”

He knew Colter could be in hot water, but he told himself he could handle it. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself to suppress the guilt. So far, there were no signs of Colter being around, and Rourke hadn’t mentioned him at all, which made him hope his brother was safely hiding somewhere.

And his priority right now was standing in front of him.

With Emma safe in your arms, you took a breath, steeling yourself for the final sprint to freedom.

You three tiptoed down the hallway when you turned a sharp corner and spotted a guy in black standing there. No visible weapons, which was a small victory in itself.

Your heart skipped a beat, but Russell quickly pulled you back next to the wall. He weighed his options, knowing he had to act fast.

“This ain’t going to be pretty. Just—“ he said as he motioned for you to turn around. You knew well what he was planning. And that indeed wasn’t going to be pretty. You nodded with a leaping heart and turned your back to him, clutching Emma’s head close to your chest, desperately trying to muffle any sounds that might come soon.

God, she's going to need a mountain of therapy after this. And maybe that puppy she’s been talking about.

Russell shot you a quick squeeze on the shoulder, a silent promise that everything would be okay. Then he stepped forward, moving with the kind of focus that made you hold your breath. You pulled Emma close with your heart racing as the seconds felt like goddamn hours.

There was a muffled thud.... and then silence. Russell’s hand on your back signaled it was safe, and you turned to see him standing over the guard, dusting off his hands with a grim, almost satisfied look.

“Alrighty” he whispered “no more interruptions, yeah?”

You let out a shaky breath and nodded, tightening your hold on Emma. Step by step, the three of you crept down the hallway, avoiding every echo and shadow, your goal almost within reach.

Then, up ahead, an exit sign cast a faint glow. Freedom was close enough to taste, and you exchanged a quick glance with Russell. You fult that tiny flicker of hope.

You took a deep breath, squeezing Emma a little tighter. Her small arms wrapped around your neck, a reminder of why you were risking everything. You need to stay calm.

Well, seemingly calm, at least.

You and Russell exchanged a look. Words weren’t necessary; you both knew exactly what was on the line here. Funny, you thought, how his combat skills now felt like a strange kind of comfort.

Just a few more steps down the hallway, and you ended up in a large, warehouse-style room, crates stacked high, lights flickering like something straight out of a bad action movie.

“Really? A crate room?” you muttered.

Russell scanned the area, eyeing a side door. “That might be our way out.”

“Oh yeah? Is that your gut talking, or do you actually know?”

Before he could shoot back, footsteps echoed down the hall. Russell hissed a quick curse and signaled for you to duck behind a stack of crates.

You crouched down, holding Emma close as the door creaked open and two guards strolled in, giving the room a once-over like they had it all under control.

“Think they’d make it this far?” one guard muttered.

The other chuckled. “No way. Shaw’s decent, but those two he’s with? Dead weight.”

Russell sized them up and he leaned in close. “Stay low.”

You gave a small nod, clutching Emma tighter.

Russell edged closer to the guards, blending into the shadows like a pro. In one smooth motion, he slammed the first guard into the second, and they both crumpled to the ground like a pair of falling dominoes. Before they could even register what was happening, he struck with quick punches and a perfectly timed knee, leaving them both out cold and wondering what just hit them.

Once they were on the floor, Russell wasted no time. He crouched down, quickly rifling through the guards’ gear. “We’re gonna need these” he muttered, pulling a pistol from one guard’s holster and a knife from the other. With practiced ease, he tucked the pistol into his waistband and handed the knife to you. “Think you can handle it?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked you over.

You raised an eyebrow at the guards' bodies, really, desperately trying to convince yourself they’re just sleeping. As you gripped the knife, you tried to motion your position to cover most of the scene from Emma. It worked, she was only focused on you. And you were only focusing on the difficulty of keeping her close with one hand.

Man, she is getting big.

“Well, my self-defense teacher never covered how to use a knife” you quipped.

Russell chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Just use it on instinct. Don’t hesitate when it counts. And remember to—”

“To aim for the balls” you finished with a smirk.

“I’d really like to meet your teacher. Must be a real pro” he said with a smirk.

You shrugged. “Eh, he was handsome, sure. But turned out he kept secrets.”

“Sounds like a total douche” he muttered, though you caught the guilt in his voice.

“Yep. Was a major douche.”

“Was?”

You gave him a teasing glance. “Well… I’m still trying to figure out what he’s like now.”

With a small smile and a quick glance at the guards, he pocketed extra ammo and anything else that might come in handy. Armed and ready, he led you both to the side door.

With Emma snug in your arms and a renewed sense of determination, you stepped into the night together.

For a second, the three of you standing there almost looked like some offbeat family photo… bittersweet, and about as far from normal as it gets.

But the moment you took in your surroundings, you felt a chilly sensation. This sure as hell didn’t look like Idaho Falls. Nor the rundown warehouse you’d started in.

You had no idea where you were.

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

Next on Tuesday’s Gone (Sneak Peak from Chapter 5)

Emma tilted her head while her expression turned adorably thoughtful. “You’re hairy. Like grandpa.”

Russell chuckled as he ran a hand through his beard. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s my pirate look.”

Her eyes lit up at the word pirate. “Are you a pirate?! Can I be one, too?”

“Absolutely” he replied. “But we have to be sneaky pirates, okay? No one can know we’re here.”

Your heart did a little flip at the sight. The way he talked to your daughter — his daughter — his voice surprisingly soft and sweet, even in this situation. Emma’s reaction wasn’t a shock, though. She had a habit of linking beards (like the one your dad rocked) with safety and familiar love.

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

Whoa, we finally got that wonderfully chaotic family reunion! Can’t wait to dive deeper into Emma and Russell’s relationship in the upcoming chapters.

I hope you enjoyed reading.

Read Chapter 5 here

🤍Taglist🤍

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01 @kmc1989

[uglypastels]

Corroded Coffin, Corrosion (1988)

Corrosion is the debut release of heavy rock band Corroded Coffin. Taking influence from Black Sabbath, Metallica and Judas Priest, this up-and-coming act throws heavy punches with their instrumental skills.

"We write of what we know," explained band lead guitarist, Eddie Munson, "and what we know is that the world is fucked, unjust and terrible to anyone that doesn't fit the narrow mould that society's created. We grew up in a place that would have rather seen us dead than achieve anything."

With tracks like "Don't Panic", "Delight in Me" and "Circus of the Damned", the band expresses their critique in a not-at-all subtle manner on the ideals and expectations of upper-class suburbia. Their lyrics cut deep into the trauma of being unwanted in your own community and what seems to be a national prosecution of social outsiders.

"Freaks," Munson clarified, "that's what they call you, and once that label sticks, you're stuck with it for life. At first, you don't take it personally; try to wear it with pride, but that shit just slowly eats away at you from the inside. You just have to live your life everyday knowing everyone around you is waiting for you to become the monster they already think you are."

The record, however, showcases both sides of the coin, along with the struggles, and there are plenty of references to what brought the band members together as a group. It is the problem as well as the solution. The songs hit you with the deep, unnerving truth but give you the getaway to escape from it right after.

"For us it was games. Video games as well as tabletop. People called us satanists because we played games with dice instead of balls. Make that make sense."

The album is as tragic as it is energetic and lively. Although the band members have yet to perfect their sound, they know what they are doing and possess the potential to gain a seat amongst the artists that inspired them in the first place—and this status might come sooner than we think.

Their single, "Silverlined Black Cat" has topped the Rock charts since its release at the beginning of this year, with the entirety of the album following it's lead just as well. The band announced their debut nation-wide tour dates earlier this month and all shows are already being close to sold out, with additional dates being added to the schedule any time now.

With the undeniable critical and commercial success, it is easy to say, that '88 will be, without a doubt, Corroded Coffin's year.

- the Corroded Coffin Archive (Source: The Rolling Stone)

[quirkwizard]

Hi. Why do you think Hawks chose Tokoyami to join his agency? How did he know he could keep up with him? What about Shoto and Bakogo? Don't they have the potential, too? I ask because I think their quirks had the most influence on his choice.

So there are a few reasons why Hawks took Tokoyami under his wing. First off, fifty percent of the reason was that Hawks wanted someone from Class 1-A to get some info about the League of Villains and wanted a first-hand account, likely for personal curiosity. Keigo knew Tokoyami could keep up since he was in the top three of the class in the Sports Festival. As for why he didn't pick Shoto or Bakugou, that comes down to the other fifty percent. First off, they were both birds. Yes, this was a joke, but Hawks does confirm that is at least twenty percent of the reason. Hey, sidekicks with the same gimmicks are good for branding. Then there is the other thirty percent: potential. Yes, both Bakugou and Shoto had potential, but they were already using their powers well and were amazing students. They could be exceptional heroes, regardless of where they went. Tokoyami could have been an exceptional hero, but he was wasting it. Tokoyami was relying way too much on Dark Shadow as it is and wasn't using it anywhere nearly as creatively as he should have been. And with Hawk's encouragement and teaching, he saw marked improvements and changes, such as his Black Abyss and Sabbath.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 839: Judas Priest Stained Class

The AOTY-list season serves as a reminder that I haven't checked out nearly as much new music in 2024 as I have in years past.

I feel a little guilty about it. Being a musician, I'm a big believer in staying connected to current artists and their work. At the same time, it's impossible to keep up with the constant stream of new music, and I can't help but feel that one of the ways we're failing artists in this current age is by only giving their work a single cursory listen.

It's fleeting fandom. There were no shortage of great albums that came out this year that I streamed once online and thought "this is really good... I need to listen to this more" and then promptly forgot about. Buying vinyl has always been my way of making sure I dedicate time to REALLY listening to an album, but with as much as I've toured these last two years, I've had to scale my purchases back because I'm simply not home enough to listen to my collection and I'm already slacking on investigating records I bought in 2023.

So I didn't buy many albums that came out in 2024. But that doesn't mean I wasn't listening to a lot of music. In particular, I listened to A LOT of early Judas Priest.

My Judas Priest fandom is a relatively new thing. I've sat on a copy of Screaming For Vengeance for ages, but it wasn't the right entry point for me. But starting sometime around late 2022, I started falling for Sin After Sin. This was the combo I was lacking in my life: good riffs, '70s production, a dash of prog-rock ambition, some sinister undertones, and big choruses. Rob Halford's vocals had always been a bit of a dealbreaker for me as I'm not much of an operatic metal guy, but reading his memoir opened my mind and ears to his approach.

Stained Class is Judas Priest's fourth album, released in 1978. Much like their other '70s albums, there is still an obvious debt to Sabbath and Zeppelin (check out the "Whole Lotta Love" riff in "Saints in Hell"), but Halford out-sings both Ozzy and Plant. Maybe it's because Halford was still a closeted gay man and trying to fly under the radar, but he never seemed to have the larger-than-life persona of Ozzy and Plant. Instead, he put all his effort into treating the voice like a third guitar, helping steer the musical direction of the band while hitting the growling lows of a power chord and the squealing highs of a pinch harmonic.

While I still put Sin After Sin at the top of my Judas Priest list, Stained Class isn't far behind. While never quite hitting the same heights as tracks like "Sinner," "Raw Deal," and "Dissident Aggressor," Stained Class also doesn't lose its momentum with ballads (barring the possible exception of "Beyond the Realms of Death," which is such an obvious influence on Metallica's "Fade to Black" that I think we can safely disqualify it from the ballad designation despite it's delicate verses and slow build). It's a solid record from start to finish, best played at a high volume, but also completely satisfying on a phone speaker while you're barbecuing in your backyard.

Whether it's the amphetamine-fueled hard rock of "Exciter," the sleazy strut of "White Heat, Red Hot," the galloping angst of the title track, the anthemic power of "Invader," or the sinister '70s Sabbath riffage of "Saints in Hell," Stained Class is entertaining from start to finish, and reveals more nuances and embellishments with every listen.

I can't even say how many times I listened to Stained Class in 2024, but it's yet to grow stale or boring. If anything, my appreciation for it has only grown with every spin. And while I could've arguably held back on it and carved out more time for new artists with new albums, I like to think that finding a 46-year-old subversive rock album and latching onto it with an obsession bodes well for any freaks and weirdos that put out records in 2024 hoping their music has a shelf-life beyond this December.

[shares-a-vest]

@flufftober Spring Edition Day 7: Giving someone a present

wc: 886 | Rated: T for Canon-Typical swearing, some suggestive language | cw: None

Tags: Pre-Birthday, Eddie Munson is a Menace, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Cuddling, Spoiling Presents, Wayne Munson Takes a Pottery Class (it's only a throwaway line, but it's a headcanon I have rotting my brain rn)

Note: I just want to shout out the lovely comment @withacapitalp left on my ficlet from yesterday. It definitely influenced today's fic, as Steve reflects on the life he has in this AU. Thank youuu so much Liam for recognising an underlying theme/nuance in this universe.

‘The Best Present of All’

“What’s got you all giddy?” Steve asks, watching Eddie practically strut across their bedroom as he heads for his side of the bed.

He looks ridiculous – like a headbanging, scruffy chicken. Eddie pauses by the side of the bed and rips off his loose, cut-off Black Sabbath shirt. He hurls it halfway across the room, the discarded almost-terrycloth fluttering to the floor as he jumps on the bed and lounges across Steve’s legs.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow, precious,” he coos, rolling awkwardly on his back and grimacing.

He brushes it off as if Steve doesn’t know the telltale signs of his partner twinging his back – never one to exactly take it easy after almost dying in the Spring of 1986. Eddie puffs out a breath to blow hair from his face and giggles.

“I bought you the best present,” he continues, looking at the ceiling.

“That so?” Steve teases, knowing all too well that whatever said material item is, it will be nothing compared to the mischief Eddie surely has cooked up.

And Steve is going to love every minute of it. He loves every birthday he gets to have with Eddie by his side – and that’s something that can’t be bought.

Eddie turns his head and grins.

“I’m going to gift-give so hard,” he quips, scrunching his nose and clenching his jaw.

Steve supposes it is meant to come off, well... seductive, or something – but Eddie simply looks like an utter lovesick dork with those glee-filled eyes peeking out from under his unruly bangs.

“Did you help Joanie with something, at least?” Steve chuckles.

“Of course,” Eddie says, tenting his fingers together, “Prepare for a macaroni-encrusted card and the wobbliest, most unusable coffee mug in human existence.”

“Wow,” he laughs and swipes at his partner with his pillow. Eddie splutters away, spitting like a cranky kitten as Steve chides, “You cannot keep a secret.”

“I blame Wayne for the mug idea.”

“Stop making fun.”

He tugs on Eddie’s bare arm – if he has the man shirtless in bed, he at least wants to cuddle (and stop his legs from being crushed). Eddie goes limp, forcing Steve to all but pull his dead weight upright and into his arms, mussing and twisting their oft-abused bedding into a crumple – the blue patterned lines now a wavy swish.

“But the old man is taking a goddamn pottery class like he’s Demi fucking Moore,” Eddie cackles into his chest.

Steve shushes him and presses a kiss to the top of his head just to be safe. He holds Eddie close, breathing in the smell of fruity shampoo. Feeling the warmth of his skin against his own – the touch of flesh under his fingers.

He shifts on the spot and bites his lip.

“Eds?”

“Mmmhmm?” Eddie hums and Steve can feel his mischievous smirk.

“Since you’re spoiling presents…” he wonders aloud, removing his hand from his partner’s shoulder so he can attempt to flick back the blankets, “What if I got one of my presents now?”

Eddie untangles himself and bolts upright, scrambling with the bedding instead.

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

They make quick work of slipping under the covers, righting their bedding as much as possible – even if it all somehow ends up on a forty-five-degree angle in their haste. But once they get settled, all cozy and warm and impossibly close as they roll into each other’s embrace on instinct, Steve feels his heart skip a beat.

“Eddie…” he whispers, letting his partner’s name linger on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Eddie whispers back, his big brown eyes glistening from the reflection of the light on the nightstand.

Steve shuffles closer, closing the already tiny gap between them and loops his arms around Eddie’s middle. He simply holds his partner for a moment, looking into those beautiful eyes – watching as Eddie breathes in and out and blinks. He leans in and presses a kiss to his lips, clinging to Eddie tight as he begins to kiss back. It deepens almost instantly and Steve hums, stifling a gasp as tears begin to prickle up.

Over the years, he has turned into a total sap, the waterworks turning on so easily sometimes that it worries him.

But he just feels so much – so much love – with his family. With their silly cats, first in Chicago in their tiny apartment, then in their slightly bigger but nonetheless cramped apartment and now in their home. A four-bedroom house with plenty of room to live and build. A house with a yard, a garden and a garage big enough for Eddie to jam with Freak on weekends.

The best gift life could have given him.

He used to be scared that he’d be stuck in Hawkins forever, working for his father and trying to please his mother all the while failing and remaining lonely.

But all that changed with Eddie. Even if it first started during that awful Spring Break back when he thought they might not even survive long enough to see where things could go.

“I love you,” he whispers when they break apart and come up for air, “Love you and Joanie so much.”

“I love you too, Stevie,” Eddie says, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, “Happy birthday.”

[ahummingbirdwitch]

FOR FANS OF GHOST!

Desperate for new Ghost songs and looking for music that captures a similar feeling and energy? Check out these bands! (And some recommended songs by them)

Vexing Hex — slow-paced occult rock, VERY reminiscent of the Opus and Infesstisumam albums

“Thy Will Be Done”

“Revenant”

Year of the Goat — doom/occult rock with similar Satanic storytelling

“I’ll Die for You”

“Superbia”

Lucifer — classic metal sound reminiscent of Ghost and Black Sabbath, religious themes and imagery

“Cold as a Tombstone”

“Bring Me His Head”

Green Lung — fun psychedelic rock with some doom aspects, frequently references witches/Lucifer, singer even sounds a little bit like Tobias!

“Maxine (Witch Queen)”

“Reaper’s Scythe”

Unto Others — gothic metal/rock band with playing that evokes a strong Ghost feeling even though the singer has a unique voice

“Summer Lightning”

“Over Western Shores”

Mountain Witch — classic-sounding psychedelic rock reminiscent of Blue Öyster Cult

“The Dead Won’t Sleep”

“The Cold Hands of Fate”

Blood Ceremony — psychedelic rock, witchy/Satanic themes and imagery

“Goodbye Gemini”

“Witchwood”

Haunt — fast-paced heavy metal with a slight thrash influence, playing is very similar to Ghost at times

“Face of Danger”

“Windows of Your Heart”

Candlemass — the OG doom metal band from the 80s and one of the biggest inspos for Ghost!! Heavy, sludgy sound and operatic, dramatic vocals

“Bewitched”

“Sinister and Sweet”

Witchcraft — alternative rock/psych rock with a Ghosty playing style

“Democracy”

“By Your Definition”

Khemmis — doomy classic heavy metal with powerful vocals and playing that brings Ghost to mind

“An Empty Throne”

“Isolation”

And of course, don’t hesitate to check out the bands Tobias has been a part of in the past, plus music some of the Nameless Ghouls have made!

Magna Carta Cartel — alternative rock band Tobias used to be a part of and some members of MCC were even Ghouls at one point! Very atmospheric music with a melancholy feel

“Counting Down the Days”

“Blue Hour Gate”

Subvision — pop rock/alt rock band that Tobias was a singer for; fun, slightly punk sound and great if you wanna hear more of Tobias singing

“Room 611”

Jutty Taylor — Swiss Ghoul; makes great vibey rock music

“Dogs”

“Pushing My Love”

Cos Sylvan — Rain Ghoul; killer bass music

“The Damned”

Katatonia — heavy gothic metal band that Dew/Per Eriksson used to play for; hard, atmospheric music that evokes strong emotions

“Behind the Blood”

“My Twin”

Mad Gallica — Cumulus Ghoul; absolutely amazing vocals and synth/piano playing

“Souls on Fire”

I know there’s music by other Ghouls I haven’t touched on, but everything listed above is just the stuff I’ve listened to personally. All of these artists and songs can be found on Spotify!

[nancy-laura-spungen]

Richard Allan "Ricky" Kasso Jr. (March 29, 1967 – July 7, 1984), also known as The Acid King, was an American murderer who killed his 17-year-old friend Gary Lauwers in Northport, New York on June 19, 1984. Two other teens, Jimmy Troiano and Albert Quiñones, were present at the murder, which took place in the Aztakea Woods of Northport while all four were under the influence of what they believed to be mescaline, but was most likely LSD.

The murder became sensational news in New York City and across the nation due to the alleged torture of Lauwers and supposed occult aspects of the murder. The murder took place during a period known as the "Satanic panic" when there was much public concern over the effects of Satanic and occult content in heavy metal music and in role-playing games. Kasso was wearing an AC/DC T-shirt at the time of his arrest and was a fan of groups such as Black Sabbath, Judas Priest and Ozzy Osbourne.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

That music take got me thinking about which other characters would like dad rock, and man... if I'm gonna call myself the classic rock nerdlord, I best flex a bit, so -cracks knuckles- here we go. This is gonna be a long one. I'm gonna focus on non-lords for this

Ashe. His dad was into a lot of 70s rock and it rubbed off on him. Same for Lonato, which just makes the whole genre that much more special to him. Putting on a classic rock record brings him back to happier days. There's a lot he enjoys like Eric Clapton and Journey, but a special place in his heart is reserved for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers [and by extension, the Traveling Wilburys]. Favourite song: I Won't Back Down

Inigo/Lazward. Come on, take one look at him and tell me he's not a Beatles fan. I dare you. Guy's practically in love with John Lennon. Subsequently, he also loves John's post-Beatles work. Favourite song: Love Me Do

Frederick. I dunno, something about him screams Jackson Browne fan. He'd also be into the Eagles and Steely Dan. There is no doubt that his music taste influenced Chrom's to a substantial degree. Is that a good thing? You decide. Favourite song: Doctor, My Eyes

Rodrigue. To the surprise of absolutely nobody. What we call dad rock now used to be fresh top 40s hits to Roddy, of course he likes the shit. The first time he heard the Byrds on the radio, he fell instantly in love. He's also a big fan of the Who. Favourite song: My Back Pages [this is a Bob Dylan cover]

Takumi and Leo. This is a two-in-one and yeah I'm breaking the non-lord rule, but hear me out here. These two are bona fide metalheads, but like old school metal. I'm talking Black Sabbath old school with a huge helping of 80s thrash metal. That said, both do enjoy some typical classic rock. Takumi has a soft spot for the Eagles while Leo is a closet Fleetwood Mac fan. Favourite non-metal songs: Lyin' Eyes [Takumi] and Dreams [Leo]

Oboro. Alright, I admit I'm projecting here with this one, but I can't unsee her being a Def Leppard fan, and these days the Leps would be considered dad rock. She's also into David Bowie. Favourite song: Lady Strange [I'm trying not to project too hard here]

Griss/Gregory. Technically a two-in-one, but for all the ways they are different, their taste in music is 100% identical -- or rather, 99.99% identical. Both are huge fans of Alice Cooper, but they have different favourite songs. Favourite songs: Teenage Frankenstein [Griss] and Billion Dollar Babies [Gregory]

Leonie. This surprises a lot of people, but she's not into modern music. I dunno, she just doesn't vibe with it. Older music, however, is a different story, and it turns out she really likes Kiss and AC/DC. No one's quite sure what drew her to those bands above everyone else and she doesn't feel inclined to share. Favourite song: Black Diamond

Lewyn. He didn't have that much of an opinion on the genre before, but traveling on the road resulted in a lot of classic rock getting stuck in his head and he finds he enjoys it. The Allman Brothers Band and Electric Light Orchestra are the ones who take up the most free real estate in his head. Favourite song: Midnight Rider

Tsubaki. There's debate as to whether this is out of left field or completely expected of him. Not that he knows this debate is even happening because nobody wants to get involved in that discussion with him. Like Lazward, he also enjoys the Beatles' post-breakup work, but while Lazward loves John Lennon, Tsubaki leans more towards Paul McCartney, especially the Wings years. Favourite song: Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five

Xane. One might think he wouldn't care for music, but no, he actually likes music. His taste in music is quite varied and isn't limited to classic rock, and of the classic rock he's heard, honestly he wouldn't be able to pick a favourite group out of anyone. He just likes it all. It's really interesting. Favourite classic rock song if he had to pick one: Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival

I'll be here all day if I keep listing out more so I'm gonna stop there

.

[sneakyfordethklok]

Murderface Headcanons

Appearance, backstory, and other related hcs for my favorite stinky scrimblo.

He's 5'11", surprisingly tall. He's about a quarter of an inch short of 6 feet. Though, honestly he would look taller if he wasn't around Skwisgaar and Nathan all the time.

He's quite heavy, over 200 lbs. However, despite his physique, there's an surprising strength to him, especially in his arms. He worked outside for most of his life before joining Dethklok, and he retains some of that muscle to this day. However, he lacks the stamina and determination to ever really defend himself, and can't fight worth a damn.

He's around 28 years old.

He deals with eczema, specifically atopic dermatitis. He is unfortunately very bad about genuinely taking care of it, even though he has creams for it. He's just very stubborn.

How I draw his hair is more closely inspired by Geezer Butler, the bassist of Black Sabbath, whom Murderface is based off of. Dense dark brown curls, but Murderface as usual takes poor care of himself. His hair is dry, his scalp oily and rife with dandruff, and he rarely brushes it. As a result, its quite matted and frizzy, with lots of dead ends and uncontrolled curls.

Speaking of taking poor care of himself... He's a bit stinky.

Seriously. He doesn't shower enough. And rarely wears cologne or deodorant. Though, rather than necessarily being a gross slob, it comes from him never being taught to look after himself as a child. He was quite neglected, and so he never even was taught how to properly wash his hair or himself.

He grew up in the deep south, but his parents were living in Jersey before their demise. His grandparents' house is a simple one-story property, with white siding and a green roof. The windows were always covered with thick blinds, and the porch had a ramp up the three steps for Stella and Thunderbolt. An ancient porch swing that didn't exactly look safe anymore sat on their porch for as long as he could remember.

Stella and Thunderbolt Murderface were terrible hoarders. Really, the whole house was a maze of trash and rot. The second you stepped inside, you could smell the piss and shit from Stella's yappy little dogs that William always despised. How much of a fire hazard and generally unsafe environment it was influenced his interest in fire safety as an adult.

His grandparents abused and neglected him frequently. Murderface was never given affection, positive reinforcement, encouragement of any kind really, and not an ounce of acceptance or interest in who he was. It was always expected that he do whatever they say without question.. else his grandfather would get The Belt.

Murderface lived in the basement of the home, which was surprisingly one of the least cluttered parts of the house. He had his own bathroom and living area down there, on top of his room, and he spent most of his youth in that cellar. He picked up his first guitar, acoustic, at age 13, and bought a bass at 15. He's been playing ever since.

His internalized homophobia was heavily fueled by his abusive upbringing, and generally unaccepting environment. Murderface knew there was something different about him, but he always overcompensated for his bisexuality by fixating on perving on women. His childhood room's walls and ceilings were plastered with cut outs from nudie mags and the Victoria Secret and Sear's catalogues by the time he was 15.

He was a chronic bedwetter until he was almost 10 years old, and the ridicule and beatings as punishment didn't exactly help him improve. Part of his fixation on urinating in inappropriate places may be fueled by this trauma.. not to mention the cause of the bedwetting itself stemmed from the abuse he suffered at their hands to begin with.

He joined Dethklok a few months after he turned 18, and was almost 19 when Toki joined af 16. They've been close friends since Toki joined, being the two youngest members of the band. Despite their arguing, it's a beneficial relationship.

Personally, I like to think the band is in a big polycule, but Murderface and Toki (Warface) is one of my main pairings.

NSFW BELOW THIS

LAST WARNING

His main kinks are BDSM, degradation, humiliation, impact-play, pet-play, bondage, edging, masochism, and body worship.

He can get overly excited from the smallest things. Just a gentle touch on his arm, looking at him a certain way— it all gets him going. He's big on physical touch, though he would never admit it, and not only desires affection but gives it constantly. He caresses, touches, and kisses at any chance given. In general, he's very needy. Especially during sex, he wants all of your attention and affection and gets very upset when he's denied.

Mostly the submissive type, but he can get in a mood sometimes where he just needs to fuck. And he can be very aggressive about it. Because he's likely much bigger than most partners he'd have, he can overpower easily and be pretty rough if he's in the mood for it. Spanking, choking, hitting, biting, etc are all on the table with him.

When he's in a subby mood (which is usually), he's a total brat until he's pushed to the edge. Defiant, snarky, and mouthy. He'll disobey orders, talk back, and generally be a disobedient slut. That is, until he's edged, teased, and overstimulated enough. He'll go from complaining to begging pretty damn quickly.

When it comes to his downstairs... William is excessively hairy everywhere, but especially in his pubic area. There's a thick nest of hair above the base of his dick, so dark brown its almost black. He's about 6 or so inches in length, but he has a pretty.. well, girthy one for lack of a better word. It has to be big enough to play bass with, after all.

Yea. He has calluses. On his cock. Its Murderface idk what you expected.

He won't admit it, but he loves being on bottom with male partners.

[demonsatmidnight]

This is Part 7 of DEITIES/DEMONS OF INFLUENCE THAT MAY BE CHANNELED THROUGH U.S. BANKNOTES AND COINS

To Convince a Group Easily

This is a simple way to make a group likely to accept your message and become more convincing. This one relies on the spoken word and your physical presence in the room.

Deities/Angel to Call on: Orbeth and Kanum.

Preform protection and purification rituals. Then say:

I call on you, great angel Orbeth of this hour. By the words OUMES THAWTH I call on the great God Kanum to watch over this ritual. I call to you, great angel Orbeth. I ask that you give me the power to convince _______.

Name the group and describe the meaning to the angel.

Then say:

Great angel Orbeth, I give thanks for your help. As you came in peace, go in peace.

[forestdeath1]

Hopelessness

@prongsfoot-microfic

It turned out that this microfic is 1600 words long, so if it's more convenient for someone to read on AO3, here's the link.

It's jilypad.

---

Sirius kisses Lily’s belly, stretched by a muggle T-shirt with Black Sabbath on it, his gift. The air's filled with the light scent of jasmine from the open window, letting in the cool June breeze. Lily isn't really into Black Sabbath, but Sirius hopes the band's symbolism might somehow influence Harry’s musical taste, since he’s got no hope with Lily and James. As Lily recently said, she wears that T-shirt solely because it features a "handsome vocalist" who reminds her of Sirius.   Sirius is quite pleased with that outcome.

They're sprawled on a wide sofa under a soft blanket, Sirius snuggled up beside Lily. The quiet of the Potter home, only interrupted by the ticking of antique clocks, always puts Sirius in a peaceful state. Lily gently strokes her rounded belly, while Sirius, with his arm around her waist, draws patterns on her skin, occasionally leaving soft kisses in response to the baby's sharp kicks. James, sitting opposite in a battered chair once favoured by Fleamont, reads the newspaper, his eyes scanning the pages gloomily.

"Oh," Lily exhales lightly. "He's been kicking all day. Extra lively today."

"Harry," Sirius murmurs softly, amazed at the depth of feeling he has for a child not yet born. "My handsome, smart boy."

"When did you get so sentimental?" James asks, not looking up from his paper.

"Since you married this incredible woman and started your own amateur production of 'Tiny Humans.' Even my frostbitten heart had to defrost for the premiere."

"Oh, my love," Lily, smiling softly, reaches out to gently ruffle Sirius's hair, "sometimes I think, what if I'd married you instead of James? How much prettier would my child be?" Lily's light, carefree laughter makes Sirius smile.

"Hey," James perks up, pretending to be offended. "There’s a lot of Blacks. And only one of me. Harry's gonna have the most unique hair in all of Magical Britain."

"And the dullest sense of humour," Sirius shoots back, still focused on the belly, speaking in a teasingly sweet tone as if talking to Harry. "Hopefully, you’ve got a better one. You got a bit short-changed on the genes from one side, but I promise to teach you."

"At least my humour doesn’t make people want to off themselves," counters James.

"You adore my jokes, don't kid yourself."

"Haven't heard one yet."

Sirius flicks his middle finger at James, who just chuckles, then removes his glasses and rubs his nose bridge in mock exasperation.

"Everything alright?" Lily asks him, concern in her voice.

"Yeah," James replies, trying to mask the worry in his voice. "Just going to make some tea."

Rising from his chair and heading to the kitchen, James leaves a trail of unspoken thoughts behind him. Sirius watches him go, and Lily, with a soft sigh, shakes her head.

"He's like this all day. Lost in thoughts about the war. Sticks to me like glue. Fancy taking him out somewhere? Hit a pub? Even stay out all night. He needs to get out more. He can't keep guarding me from God knows what," Lily adjusts a stray lock of Sirius's hair, a simple, familiar gesture.

"Alright, but not tonight," Sirius responds tenderly, kissing Lily's belly one last time before gently running his hand over her soft skin and carefully standing up from the sofa to not disturb her.

"Patrol?"

"Yeah," Sirius glances at the old wall clock, "and I'm already late."

"Why don't you move in with us?" Lily stops him with the question she poses every month.

"Don’t start," Sirius says with a light reprimand. "I'd end up covered in old people's dust here, sipping teas and reading newspapers. Tea? Seriously? When was the last time I drank tea?"

Her laughter, bright and full, fills the room, reflecting off the warm glow of the candles. She could easily shift from a pensive mood to mirth, and really, it took nothing to make her laugh. Lily was always so light, Sirius adored that about her. Like an autumn maple leaf playfully dancing with the wind – always ready to soar at the slightest breeze.

"Come here," she extends her arms, and Sirius leans in, allowing Lily to plant a tender kiss on his lips. "I love you," she looks at him, her gaze filled with care and tenderness, "Be careful."

"You too," Sirius smiles and ruffles her hair. "Look after Harry."

Stepping into the hallway, leaving Lily resting on the sofa, Sirius grabs his jacket from the coat rack and pulls it on, whistling a tune he caught in some noisy muggle café.

"James! I’m off."

James peeks out from the kitchen, holding a pack of tea.

"Not staying for tea?" he asks, knowing the answer already.

Sirius isn't much for tea, yet James has been offering it to him for years. In an attempt to make the drink more appealing, he once even started spiking the tea with Firewhisky. That gimmick worked for a while, but soon not even Firewhisky could dispel Sirius's irritation with the whole tedious, monotonous process.

"No, got patrol."

James looks slightly disappointed, tosses the tea pack onto a table cluttered with books and newspapers, and approaches Sirius.

"Lily suggested we should hit a bar," Sirius mentions.

James shrugs, adjusting his glasses absently.

"I can't leave her alone. Every time I go on patrol, you know it’s torture for me. I keep thinking something might happen, that they might attack our home, and…"

"I know," Sirius cuts him off. "That’s why I’m not inviting you. Just passing on Lily’s words."

James gives a soft smile, tilting his head slightly.

"You’ll come over on Friday?" he asks.

"Yes."

"And stay the night?"

"Of course."

James nods and hugs Sirius, pressing his face to his neck. Sirius leans into his ear, kissing it and breathing in the scent of earthy moss and the morning forest. James's scent always carried the notes of their moonlit adventures, as if his skin had absorbed the essence of those nights. They stand in silence for a moment until the soft hum of an old radio playing a vintage jazz tune Lily adores drifts in from the living room.

"Everything will be alright, James, hear me?" Sirius whispers, probably a bit too roughly patting James on the head as his movements have grown more abrupt lately. "I promise. Everything will be alright. With Lily, with you, with Harry."

"Yes," James says, rubbing an eye then running a hand through his hair. "Of course. It'll be alright. With you too."

"I'm not that important."

"Don't talk like that," James responds in a strained voice.

"I’d do anything for you, whatever it takes," Sirius says in a matter-of-fact tone, as if they’re discussing a Christmas dinner menu, not talking about things people usually don’t say to each other when everything’s fine.

James steps back, looks up at Sirius, and smirks, chasing away the worried shadows from his face.

"Have I mentioned you’ve become sentimental?"

"I've spent too much time around a mushy sod like you," Sirius grins, shrugging. "Bad influence."

James laughs, shoving Sirius's shoulder then pulling him in close, as if wanting to hide away in Sirius's broad embrace.

"I love you, you idiot," he kisses him, fingers threading through Sirius’s hair, tousling it. "Don’t be late on Friday. Lily’s making your favourite blueberry pie."

"I won’t," Sirius breathes out huskily.

James nods, and Sirius steps out the door. The June air hits his face, a warm breeze flicking a lock of hair from his forehead. The scent of night flowers mingles with the smell of fresh paint – someone nearby decided to give their fence a fresh coat.

Sirius moves a few meters away, casting one last glance at the Potters' house. James stands in the doorway, leaning on one shoulder against the frame. Sirius catches his worried gaze and nods subtly in response.

A moment later, Sirius apparates, but James's troubled face lingers in his mind like an echo. Usually, James's face brings peace, but this time it leaves a quiet itch, a reminder that Sirius is missing something, yet can't quite grasp what it is.

The war makes everyone nervous, anxious, and lost, and Sirius knows better than to succumb to these draining sentiments. But seeing those feelings in James – the person who made Sirius believe that even in the coldest winter, there's an unbeatable summer living inside him – Sirius realizes things are grim.

Of course, Sirius will come over on Friday. Perhaps he'll stay for the weekend, and they'll spend it together, like old times, before the threat of war knocked so clearly on their doors. They'll wake up to a late breakfast in the garden, reminiscing about school under the rustling of green leaves and birdsong, and perhaps even making plans for the future where the war is just a distant memory—a future where Sirius already knows exactly how to raise Harry and what gifts to give him from the very first months of his life.

A future where they're together.

After breakfast, they'll apparate to the lake, where James will set up broom races, beating Sirius yet again.  Lily, always rooting for Sirius, will put on a theatrical display of disappointment and spend the day cheering him up, recounting for the hundredth time the tales of James's rare Quidditch misplays at Hogwarts—as if Sirius didn't already know each one by heart.

After dinner, James will suggest a game of wizard chess, and Lily will pick out a book to read aloud by the fireplace. Soon, she will head to bed early, as has become more common since she got pregnant, and James and Sirius will go out to the garden, lie on the grass, and spend the night forgetting all worries, remembering that it's moments like these for which they're fighting and ruthlessly suppressing the hopelessness that seeks to consume their souls.

[chris-cornells-uneaten-poptart]

dr2 music headcannons

Chuck Greene

You can just look at him and tell he used to be a huge Guns N' Roses fan back then when he was younger.

Pink Floyd

Metallica

Aerosmith

Led Zeppelin

Black Sabbath

AC/DC

he's very vanilla when it comes to music

Leon Bell

I feel like he used to listen to next to near the same stuff Chuck listened to before he gained his big, murderous grudge against him...

Megadeth

- he is a RAGING Dave Mustaine fan

Guns N' Roses

Mötley Crüe

Velvet Revolver

Poison

Stone Temple Pilots

KISS

Tyrone "TK" King

Doesn't like to admit it, but he's influenced by Amber and Baileys music taste because he's with them all the time

He's not very open about it...

Ke$ha💔

Amber Bailey and Crystal Bailey

Adele

Lady Gaga

Britney Spears

Sabrina Carpenter

Spice Girls

Blondie

Crystal likes Billie Eilish, and Amber likes Taylor Swift, and they both hate each other's choices...that's probably one of the only things they argue about, honestly.

Dwight Boykin

Linkin Park

Godsmack

Creed

Staind

A Perfect Circle

Stone Sour

Primer 55

TOOL

Brandon Whittaker

Rage Against the Machine (he genuinely thinks he's so hardcore because of it...💔)

The Beatles

Dead Kennedys (see ratm...💔)

Bob Dylan

Björk

Jimi Hendrix

Elton John

he also probably listens to the zombies groan and grumble or some sht like that

The Hunters

oh brother

they probably unironically listen to tom macdonald...💔

just about any country band/singer that they don't deem "woke"

Randall "Randy" Tugman

Mindless Self Indulgence

- if you even think about insulting his glorious king Jimmy, he'll throw a fit

Deftones (he only knows like 4 songs tho)

Korn

Rob Zombie

Marilyn Manson

Nine Inch Nails

Limp Bizkit (only a select few songs)

"heh...my music taste is so controversial...🤪" aah😭🙏

Carl Schliff

claims that he doesn't like to listen to music because it distracts him from doing his "postal duties"

might catch him listening to R.E.M. every once in a while with a walkman hanging on by 12 pieces of duct tape and at least 2 stamps. only on Sundays though.

Antoine Thomas

He enjoys classical music, nothing too specific

Actually fan of Italian opera

I think he used to be decently good at the acoustic guitar when he was younger and before he went on to become a chef

Bibi Love

Courtney Love

Hole

Honestly she probably can't listen to many other artists without getting super jealous, so she just mainly listens to her own music.

Brent "Slappy" Ernst

Weezer...just look up what his face model looks like, he looks like your average Weezer listener.

Oasis

Blur

Foo Fighters

Gorillaz

Car Seat Headrest

Raymond Sullivan

he doesn't get to listen to music, i don't like him

i might of forgor some, sorry💔

[rhapsodynew]

#Music and Musicians

The greatest

rock keyboardists (Part 1)

The 100 Greatest Rock Keyboardists and Pianists according to the Digital Dream Door edition

Criteria: These keyboardists were chosen for their skill, creativity, influence, expressiveness, musical depth and enduring popularity in rock music. (Keyboards include organ, synthesizer, mellotron, electric and acoustic piano).

A post about the top 25 musicians in the ranking. At the end there will be a list of those who took places after 25..

Keith Emerson

(Emerson, Lake & Palmer, The Nice)

Keith Emerson is just a wizard of synthesizers, Hammond organ and piano! He shocked listeners first in his band The Nice, and then in the supergroup Emerson, Lake & Palmer. Emerson is the most unusual keyboard player in rock music. His sound is often different from other musicians, and he goes beyond the usual standards.

Keith Emerson succeeded in everything: a rock adaptation of classics from Mussorgsky, and a reinterpretation of the works of Aaron Copland. And even your own compositions. The most important thing is that he always added something of his own, special, so that each of his songs becomes unique. If you listen to "Pictures at an Exhibition" or "Tarkus", you'll realize that it's all thanks to Keith Emerson.

Rick Wakeman (Yes)

Wakeman is a true creator from the keyboard world, a genius who came up with his own approach to playing the synthesizer and thus paved his musical path. Rick's undeniable technicality combined with his innovation in combining electronic keyboards and orchestra and eventually resulted in an unforgettable musical extravaganza.

Rick Wakeman started out playing keyboards on early David Bowie songs, then for the first time vividly demonstrated his talent in the band Yes, recording three albums with it, not counting a couple of others after his return (one, "Fragile", not from the very beginning, and the other two - the gigantic and monstrous "Close to the Edge"and "Tales From Topographical Oceans" - from beginning to end). However, Rick stayed in Yes for a short time, as he did not get along with the rest of the characters, preferring to eat chicken more on stage during their long concert losses. Around the same time, Wakeman even managed to record a couple of synthesizer parts for the Black Sabbath album "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath". However, he revealed himself most fully further during the period of his solo work, each time never ceasing to surprise with more and more new discoveries.

Jon Lord (Deep Purple)

It is simply impossible to imagine Deep Purple music without John Lord's keyboards. Together with Richie Blackmore, they seemed to represent two independent musical principles, which were closely intertwined in almost every song and competed in the performance of their parts. But if Richie pressed with the pressure of riffs or the ferocity of solos, then John struck with the sophistication and ornateness of his Hammond organ playing.

The sound of his keyboards is definitely the benchmark for the sound of an electric organ in hard rock. Throughout his career (most of all, of course, during the time of the first Deep Purple line-up), Lord masterfully interweaved classical elements into his music, but also worked on his own unique style. And he did it more than successfully. It is unrealistic to listen to a song that Jon Lord took part in recording and not recognize his characteristic keyboards, even for those who are superficially familiar with music.

Ray Manzarek (The Doors)

Jim Morrison once said in an interview about his friend Ray Manzarek: if you want to see the main character in this band, then this is this guy; he is the real musical brain of The Doors. Indeed, if Morrison was the face of the band, its main poet, then Ray Manzarek was definitely the musical engine.

All the band's music was based on his keyboards. Not on guitar (with all due respect to Robbie Krieger), not on drums, but on keyboards. With his playing, Manzarek riveted from the very first seconds, and in terms of electric organ sound, he was probably the brightest figure of the 60s. His parts cannot be confused with anything else, moreover, there was no such unique keyboard player either before or after. His diverse playing could include both acid-psychedelic organ passages, about an eternity long, and light airy piano losses.

Ray's virtuosity is evidenced by the fact that at concerts, in the absence of a permanent bass player in the band, in addition to his main parts on the electric organ, he also led the bass part on the electric piano with his other hand. And this fact does not fit into my head.

Manzarek's long solos are generally a separate conversation. With their beauty, melodiousness and a certain hypnotic appeal, they have forever entered the golden fund of rock music heritage.

Later, the great improviser Ray Manzarek also played the Hammond C-3 organ.

Richard Wright (Pink Floyd)

The famous Pink Floyd keyboardist himself said to himself that he was self-taught and played the piano incorrectly, as it is "impossible" to play in professional circles. But what you definitely can't deny him is his own unique style. Probably, it was the lack of templates and frameworks that determined the formation of the sound characteristic of Rick Wright.

After all, who's to say that his musical contribution to Pink Floyd's work is bad? Yes, maybe Wright somehow interpreted the rules of keyboard playing in his own way. But his exquisite piano parts and beautiful synthesizer ripples are truly stunning! Not to mention that they have become an integral part of Pink Floyd's music.

Tony Banks (Genesis)

Genesis founder and keyboardist Tony Banks was behind many of its hits, playing in various genres such as progressive rock, pop and even classical music. Banks is known for using instruments such as Hammond organs, mellotrons, synthesizers, and pianos, each with their own distinctive sound, when Banks wanted to apply a different technique in his recordings and performances.

Starting with the first albums in 1969, he began using Hammond organs L-122 and T-102.

Billy Preston

Billy Preston is deservedly considered one of the greatest session keyboardists of the 1960s. American keyboardist, member of many solo and session projects with the most famous pop and rock artists since the 60s (with Ray Charles, Little Richard, Everly Brothers, The Beatles, George Harrison, John Lennon, Ringo Starr, The Rolling Stones, Joe Cocker, Eric Clapton, Mick Jagger, Elton John. Billy also took part in the recording of the legendary Beatles album "Get Back". Billy Preston was one of the first to use the Hammond B-3 organ, playing soul, funk, rock, rhythm and blues and gospel styles. He has released 23 solo albums since 1963.

Rod Argent (Zombies, Argent)

Rod Argent founded the English rock band The Zombies in 1962, and after its breakup five years later founded his own band Argent. He was one of the creative collaborators of "Zombies", playing an important role in the lyrics of their songs. Argent is known for his preferences in choosing instruments, including the mellotron, harpsichord and organ.

Prefers to use the Hammond B-3 organ. Rod Argent's Hammond playing in the 1972 composition "Hold Your Head up" was rated by Rick Wakeman as the greatest organ solo in history.

Steve Winwood (Traffic)

To be continued....