#The ballad thunder road

[big-mayo-official]

Modern country music: I abuse my wife / I love my new truck /let's go down to the racist baaaaar / some guy brings a knife / I don't give a fuck / I have a new AR

Old country music: ooooh the mines killed my father / prison killed my brother / prohibition killed my cousin / so tell me please (tell me please) / why do I even botherrrrrr

[thisdayinfiction]

On This Day in Fiction: April 1, 1954

Lucas Doolin makes his last bootlegging run

"The Ballad of Thunder Road" - Robert Mitchum (1958)

[blizz4rd1203]

I CAN TELL THE STORY, I CAN TELL IT ALL

[cjbolan]

Does this mean Billy is Odysseus? He stops her singing from killing everyone present.

Agatha Harkness is lowkey like the Sirens. Her song lures people to their deaths.

[frost-queen]

Witches road// part 2 (Fem!reader x Agatha Harkness)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic,@alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @erikasurfer, @slythetic , @p0nycurtis , @quailbagutte , @fantasticcroissantpandagarden, @lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

Summary: Summoning the witches road, you are met up with the first trial. Being close around Agatha once more breaks unfamiliar things out of you. Can you overcome your fears and get a sense of what is becoming of you. [Witches road series]

Gather sisters fire

Water, earth and air

You quirked your eyebrow intriguingly up when you entered the house. Hand sliding on the doorframe whilst entering. Making a loud hum sound, looking around. – “What?” – Agatha asked entering behind you. – “Nothing.” – you responded looking over your shoulder to her. – “It’s just not you.” – you gestured at the clean suburban lifestyle, something unlike her.

“Well I didn’t have it to the picking Y/n.” – Agatha responded annoyed. Chuckling amused, you walked to the living room. Seeing another witch already present. With wide eyes, she looked at you. – “Are my eyes deceiving me?” – she questioned. – “They are not.” – Agatha responded walking past her. Your familiar jumped on the sofa making Agatha hurry over.

“Uh-uh no pets on the couch.” – she started clapping her hands to scare him away. Your familiar hissed back in defence, making her pull her hands back. – “Fine then sit.” – she replied bothered. Jennifer’s gaze went from you to Agatha, keeping a close eye on it. Trying to find something subtle in her behaviour.

She got quickly disrupted when the other witches walked in. – “Let’s summon the road.” – Agatha said happily, clasping in her hands. You started humming the tune of the hymn, going towards her basement. – “Is… is she alright?” – Alice asked with a point at you.

Agatha waved it away, going after you. Down her basement you all came to stand in a circle. Agatha came standing beside you. You glanced down at her offering hand, humming in disagreement as you went around taking Jennifer’s hand. Agatha narrowed her eyes with a soft glare.

Your familiar meowed near her feet, startling her. Looking down at the black cat, she showed him her clawed hand. It made your familiar hiss back at her, hairs up straight. Agatha straightened her posture. A sudden thundering made her freak out. – “Let’s get a move on.”

She grabbed their hands, readying themselves to sing the witches ballad.

Seekest thou the road

To all that's foul and fair

Gather sisters fire

Water, earth and air

Darkest hour, wake thy power

Earthly and divine

Burn and brew with coven true

And glory shall be thine

Your gaze went upwards sensing the hauntingly arrival. Their presence carried by the screeching wind. Like a banshee’s cry sending a wave of crumbled leaves with them. The pressing hour of the witches road nearing. Only one chance to succeed for else the seven would devour her.

Your familiar jumped on your shoulder, laying his tail around your neck. Squeezing your newly sister’s hands, you sang along. The words you had carved in your head for centuries. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road. A pulsating force made you move your chest a bit back. Taken back by it’s intensity. The seven had entered the house. Having stepped over the boundaries.

Your gaze went to Agatha in front of you. Seeing her sing with fear in her eyes. Very well aware of the troubles waiting upstairs. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road.

The chanting became louder and louder. Overpowering the rumbling from upstairs. The ceiling shuddering with snippets of dust fluttering down. Squeezing their hands tight, you felt the primal force of a coven brewing down deep. Gaze fixating at Agatha with a hard stare. Maiden, mother, crone. An ominous sound seeped through the house.

Thundering with an ominous omen. A path one should not take. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road. Roared through the basement. Chanting loudly with every might from your lungs. Elevating with the brewing hymn. Looking up, you let the chanting fully consume you. To glory at the end.

Hands were released as all looked breathless at each other. For an eerie moment, everyone wondered if it worked. Emptiness. Whilst Agatha and the others were bickering. Knowing what was at her doorstep, you lowered yourself. Kneeling down to touch the cold ground. Your familiar jumped off your back, meowing soft.

You started to hum the hymn once more, brushing your hand over the ground. Closing your eyes briefly. When your hands felt roughness, you opened your eyes once more. Thundering rushed down the stairs as the teen appeared out of breath. – “Is that the door?” – he asked breathless. All looked at him before looking down at the ground. You were smiling wickedly at the door. Agatha immediately knelt down to pull the slots open.

“Help me!” – she yelled out with urgency. All came to her help. Revealing a set of steps. Stone and cold. You whistled brief as your familiar jumped on your shoulder. – “Down, down, down.” – you whispered taking the first step. Others quickly followed, going down. Letting the road consume them. Agatha closed the doors before the seven could claim her.

Following the glowing bouncing off the walls, you lead them down. A smile curling up when you met with the woods. Taking a deep breath, you let it consume your lungs. Letting it take over every breath of you. The teen came standing beside you, smiling excitingly at you. You smiled back at him as your black cat stuck his head out to him. The teen looked wonderous over to you.

With a simple nod of yours, you accepted. The teen reached out to scratch your cat behind the ear. – “May I ask you something Y/n?” – he dared to ask, lowering his hand. You hummed softly with a nod. – “How… why… why… were… you?” – he started, stumbling a bit over his words. Unsure how to phrase it. – “Buried?” – you responded knowing where he was going with it.

Staring off into the distance, your mind got pulled back a memory. Standing frozen as the teen tried to get a reaction out of you by waving his hand before you. – “Crawling all the way…” – you said numbly. Your cat meowed in your ear, making you shake your head awake.

Plastering on a smile, you looked back at the teen. Tapping his nose with a playful shrug. You then hummed loudly to hop after the others. – “Is… is she alright?” – Alice asked Jennifer lowly. Jennifer moved her gaze onto you. – “I’ve only heard rumours, but she was betrayed…” – Jennifer responded. – “By whom?” – Alice wanted to know. Jennifer only looked in Agatha’s direction as it said enough.

Alice nodded nervously as it made a bit more sense. Agatha came to a stop, turning round to everyone. – “We will be tested at every possible given.” – she explained. There were some uncertainties amongst the sisters. Unsure how they would be tested to find glory at the end. – “Shall we?” – Agatha exclaimed, clasping her hands together. She noticed your gaze was fixated on the ground. 

Staring lost at it, almost like in trance. Agatha chuckled nervously coming over to you. She came standing behind you, taking you by the shoulders. – “Y/n, let’s go.” – she whispered to you, her lips close to your cheek. You numbly rocked your body wobbly on your heel. – “Let’s go…” – she repeated tugging on your shoulder to follow her.

When Agatha turned around she noticed Mrs. Hart… uhum Sharon had taken off. It made her groan loud needing to search for her. All of you started to run, hearing screams. Screams filling the witches road like an embrace. Familiar and known. Your eyes widened seeing Mrs. Hart trying to pull her purse out of a puddle of mud. Slowly devouring her purse. Making it one with the earth.

You rushed over to her, grabbing her by the ankles, ready to pull along with Jennifer as your eyes fell on the mud puddle. Seeing how it was swallowing the purse whole. It made your whole heart empty, waiting for the beat to come out. – “Y/n! Y/n!” – Jennifer called out as you weren’t helping.

Agatha noticed the trauma reflecting deep in your eyes as it made her come to assist. Grabbing the ankle with your hands around it to assist in tugging. Mrs. Hart got pulled back, making you fall down. Blinking rapidly, you crawled on top of Agatha. A distant look in your eyes, as you held a stick against her throat. Pushing it slightly into her skin.

Cheeks trembling with fury as a part of you wanted to jab it through her throat. Agatha had moved her hands up, seeing you were miles away. A darkness deep in your eyes. – “Y/n.” – the teen spoke approaching you. – “Lower the stick…it’s alright…” – he said calmly, reassuring you. – “Y/n… it’s alright…” – he came kneeling beside you.

“Let Agatha go Y/n.” – he spoke softly reaching for your hand. Panting loud, your hand trembled. Once the teen moved his hand over yours, it seemed to steady. He slowly moved the stick away from Agatha’s throat. Taking your other hand to help you off Agatha and up your feet. Agatha touched her throat for a pinch.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” – you told the teen, not sure what overcame you. – “It’s alright.” – he responded with a soft smile. Your familiar came brushing against your leg, making you look down at him. Kneeling down, you picked him up, letting him snuggle against your chest.

The comfort of him brought you back to reality. Not sure what had overcome you. – “Has that always been there?” – Jennifer asked after some silence. Making you all look at the house in the distance. Agatha smirked coming nearer. All of you followed her towards the house. You remained in the back, feeling out of yourself. Like you had no idea who this person was.

This person that seemed to keep trying to crawl her way out. Been in the darkness for a very long time. Chained and shackled. The house was warningly welcoming.  Looking at the others, you saw there had been a change in appearances. It made you rub your hands nervously together. By the diner table, you stood holding the glass of wine up.

Mrs. Hart drank the wine in one breath, making you raise your brow at her. – “Shall we take the girl talk to the sofa?” – she said tipsy making you all return to the living room. You took a deep breath, feeling a shiver up your spine when Agatha stroke her finger up your arm.

“Do not drink it.” – she whispered to you with a witchy smile. It made you stare down your glass. Seeing the wine swirl around like blood. Glaring at her, you moved the glass up. – “I stray not from the path, I hold death’s hand in mine.” – you told her before emptying your glass down your throat. Down, down, down it went. Agatha’s gaze widened. With a beckoning look, you threw your glass against the ground.

Shattering into a dozen pieces. It made her jump back to avoid the shatters. The first symptoms appeared with Mrs. Hart. Her face all swollen, you could barely recognize her. Then it consumed the others. Taking each and one witch. Poison. The wine was poisoned. Your cat meowed soft at the first trial. Counting down till the hour of death. Waiting patiently at the door for unsuccess.

For the only wakening to keep death at bay was an antidote. Jennifer send everyone off. You went with Lilia and Agatha. Haunted by the hour of death and it’s testing. For a witch would be tested greatly.

The chime of a bell made you stop in your tracks. Lilia and Agatha continuing. Another bell chimed as it send a shiver down your spine. Feeling the room turn, you slowly turned around. An ominous sound grasping you when you stared down at an empty grave. A bell chiming twice.

A banshee’s cry carried by the wind as crumbled leaves fluttered over your feet. Down. Down. Down. The empty hole in the grave seemingly enlarging till the very crust of the earth. A gaping mouth ready to swallow you whole. Your body started to shock a bit. Feeling a cough come up. The bell chimed for a third time. Trying to hold in the coughs. A thickness in your throat.

Coughing loud, you coughed up earth. Dry earth, coughed out like powder. Seeping out of your mouth as it made you sink to your knees. Kneeling at the bed of the grave, the bellowing emptiness below. Down. Down. Down. Coughing more, the earth from your mouth fell in the empty grave.  

Feeling yourself choke on the earth and sand in your mouth. There seemed to be no end. Thy breathing woven to earth. Trying to grasp for air, you grasped your fingers down your throat. Body wobbling as you felt yourself nearly tip down the gaping mouth of your boundness. All that gravel. Chained and shackled.

Body releasing gravity as you felt weightless. Tipping forwards, ready to meet your earthy bed. A sudden grip on your shoulder made you gasp awake. Blinking rapidly at the vast ground. No more cemetery. No more grave. Touching your mouth, it was clean of any earth. – “Y/n?” – Agatha asked concerned.

She came kneeling beside you as you teared up. Letting yourself fall against her chest, you cried soft. Agatha shushing you soothingly. She placed a sorrowful kiss at the top of your head.

Gaining your senses, you pushed yourself off her. Returning to Jennifer to assist her. She noticed the spooked expression on your face. – “You too?” – she asked, making you nod. One of the side-effects of the poison you weren’t keen on. Your black cat jumped on the counter, purring loudly as you stroke his back. – “Is it true?” -Jennifer asked making you look up at her. – “Did you truly get betrayed?” – she wanted to know.

“It's my whole heart. Weighed and measured inside.” – you responded as it sounded like a riddle to her. – “Deemed and delivered a crime.” – you went on, staring into the distance, still petting your familiar. Not wanting to engage in it further, you picked up your cat, moving away from Jennifer. Jennifer nodded respectfully. The others returned all with their ingredients for the antidote.

You held on close to your familiar, watching Jennifer brew the potion. Your cat jumped onto your shoulder when you held hands to change the potions colour. Needing it to be teal. With the teens blood it reached teal. Letting a fallen hair drop in. The hour of death at your shoulder, breathing down. Trying to outrun it. To escape the hour of death, you drank the potion.

“Hurry!” – Agatha shouted as the glass had broken. Sending a flood of water inside. Your cat jumped into your arms as you ran with it to the open oven. Jennifer crawled through it first. You followed with your cat as the others were behind you. Jennifer’s scream was loud when she went down the slide. Followed by laughter. Cackling with pleasure down the slide till your body bumped against hers. One by one, they went down the slide. All getting up but one. For Sharon was dead.

---------------------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[klikandtuna]

Hey :)

Random question: are there any existing songs that bring FTL!Crowley to your mind? You know, the way Time Stand Still makes you think of the SCB boys? Or, alternatively, any songs that you had in mind / were listening to when you wrote FTL!Crowley? Or any that you feel resemble his music (not necessarily Pondwater)?

Putting this in your asks instead of DMs bc I thought some other people might be curious as well :D

Ooooooh this is an excellent question…without a definitive answer 😆 I’ve honestly never thought about it before!

In my head/heart, FTL-Crowley’s music is a mishmash of most of what I was into back in high school and college.

— Rush, absolutely, for their quirkiness, fantasy-centered themes and imagery, and an absolutely KILLER guitar (think “Distant Early Warning,” “Mystic Rhythms,” and obviously “Time Stand Still”);

— Kansas, for their huge power ballads, more fantasy stuff, and odd time signatures (think “The Pinnacle,” “Icarus II,” “The Wall” — I actually named one FTL chapter after this song!);

— Springsteen, for his storytelling (“Thunder Road,” “Radio Nowhere”);

— Led Zeppelin for their blues roots, more fantasy stuff, and another killer guitar, and sheer POWER (“The Rain Song,” “The Battle of Evermore”)

Iiiiii don’t listen to much current music, so I’m afraid all the comments asking if FTL-Crowley is Hozier are lost on me 😅 I will say that while Crowley loves to write about his favorite things, Pondwater is by far his most autobiographical song; most of them are glorious tangents about anything that catches his internal eye with a sparkle of silver.

THANK YOU for the ask, I love discussions like this!! 💛💛

[dogdaysareover365]

@ailesswhumptober day twenty-eight - Internal bleeding/needles and stitches/“I didn’t think the wound was that bad…”

Title: The Ballad of Thunder Road

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Category: Gen

Fandom: Ghostbusters - All Media Types

Relationship: Gary Grooberson & Callie Spengler & Phoebe Spengler & Trevor Spengler

TW: car accident, near death experiences, major character injury

Summary: Trevor drives the Ecto. He wishes he didn't. Maybe then things wouldn't be so bad.

[ch4singchase]

THE BALLAD OF MOTHS, ch. 3 | SNIPPET

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the backseat of my mom's car—an old black Impala that carried the lingering aroma of spilled coffee. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the steady motion of the vehicle hinted our journey.

Before fully waking up, I stole a glance at the front seat, where my mother navigated the route with a map by her side. The details of our destination eluded my groggy mind, another day unfolding in the tapestry of our lives.

"Is everything okay, ma?" I asked, rubbing my eyes to dispel the remnants of sleep.

Caught off guard by my voice, my mom turned to look at me through the rearview mirror, weariness etched across her face.

"Yes, mausi," she attempted a smile, though it failed to reach her eyes. "Sorry if I woke you up; you can go back to sleep."

"No, no, I'm good," I stretched my arms, shaking off the fatigue. "I woke up on my own."

"Good to hear that," my mother nodded, redirecting her gaze to the road while stifling a yawn. "We still have a fair distance to the hotel—probably another hour or so."

Surveying the quiet highway, devoid of much traffic except for the occasional weary traveler, I suggested, "If you want, I can take over for a while, and you can rest."

My mother cast a puzzled look at me through the rearview mirror. "This isn't a parking lot."

"I know," I pressed my lips together, "But you're tired, and the road is nearly empty. I can follow the map until you feel more rested. I've been observing you drive, you know…"

Mrs. Gaumont sighed audibly, as if seeking approval from the powers above for her impending decision. Whatever doubts she harbored, she decided to proceed.

"Okay," she relented, pulling the car over to the side of the highway. "But if anything goes wrong…"

"You come back to the driver's seat, got it!" I grinned, hopping out of the car, prepared to switch places.

Mrs. Gaumont wore a frown as she settled into the backseat, where I had been. Observing me carefully, she watched as I adjusted the rearview mirror to keep an eye on her and the road behind, and positioned the map in a way that allowed me to glance at it without distraction. All the little rituals she followed before hitting the road—she noticed that I wasn't kidding when I mentioned I had been watching her.

Her smile this time was genuine, reaching her eyes. It might have hinted at the wish that someday, I could navigate life on my own. I'll never be sure, but I like to think that's what her smile meant.

"You can rest now, ma!" I called out, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror as I merged back onto the highway. "I've got this."

And deep down, she knew I would. My mom always knew that I was capable of taking care of myself without her constant guidance. Perhaps, that's why she let go so willingly.

So peacefully.

“You’re really good at this,” Luke finally commented after a while, snapping me out of the reverie.

Glancing at the backseats through the rearview mirror, I noticed Thalia trying to stay awake by gazing out the window, while Annabeth observed my actions with keen interest—from the way I alternated my gaze between the road and the map Luke held for me or shifted gears in the car.

Swallowing hard, I met Annabeth's eyes for the umpteenth time. Unlike before, I wasn't frightened; instead, I was taken aback by her genuine interest in my presence.

But who could blame her? According to Thalia's explanations, they had been traveling together for a considerable time.

“Let me see if I understand,” I furrowed my brows, recalling everything the trio had shared with me. “You’re also connected to these Greek gods…”

“Yes,” Thalia muttered from behind, narrowing her eyes at me, mirroring the curiosity of her smaller companion.

“You're the daughter of the thunder god, one of the Big Three, and because of that, you're pursued by a plethora of monsters,” I reiterated their explanation word for word.

The three of them nodded, awaiting my next words.

“You’re the daughter of Athena…” I turned my gaze to Annabeth. I chose not to delve into the more peculiar aspects of her origins—born from an idea of her mother as a gift; the more I tried to comprehend, the stranger it sounded.

“And you,” I looked at Luke, who raised a brow at me, “You're the son of Hermes, which makes all of you like me, as I'm also the daughter of a god. Everyone inside this car is a half-blood.”

My last statement carried a hint of uncertainty.

“Or demigods,” Luke shrugged, brushing a black curl out of his eyes. “More commonly, we're called demigods.”

“Got it…” I squinted my eyes, doing my best to concentrate on the road rather than the knot forming in my head from all this information.

Once again during that journey, I caught the gaze of the boy with black curls alternating between my face and the leather wristband I wore. I couldn't discern if he was equally intrigued by my magical weapon or if he still found amusement or confusion in the fact that it took me more than a minute to transform the sword back into the wristband.

Honestly, I hoped it was the former. Yet, given the number of times he repeated the same eye movements and subtly moved his lips, it seemed to be the latter.

“Where are you from?” Thalia inquired, her voice betraying a hint of weakness that she tried to conceal.

“Hmm,” I frowned, glancing at the map again, “I'm not sure, maybe Missouri?”

“You're American?” the girl with two electric blue eyes asked, her surprise leaving me bewildered.

“As far as I know… Yes? I’m American.” Seeking an explanation for the sudden question, I looked into the eyes of the others, but each of them appeared surprised by my responses.

Here we were, children of Greek gods, fleeing from monsters that sought to harm beings like us, yet what surprised them was that I identified as American?

Noticing my confusion, Luke snorted, shaking his head.

"You have a different accent, that's all," he answered simply.

But that only deepened the crease in my forehead.

“Well, most states have different accents,” I tried to explain. Since when did I have such a strong accent?

“Yes, but we had been to most of the states,” Thalia reasoned, raising her brows. “Yours doesn’t sound like any accent from here.”

I remained silent, trying to remember if my mother had already commented on anything. When I asked her about my father for the first time, she had told me that she had met him in Missouri, so I ended up deducing that both she and I were also born in Missouri.

But if she met my father here, then I was born here. Which meant that maybe my mother wasn't American. Maybe that explained why I had never met or seen my grandparents. They might not even be here in the United States.

It also explained the many times that my mother had to show her passport to a guard or police officer in addition to her ID. There were also some curious looks that I had recently noticed every time I opened my mouth.

Did my mother have an accent? Probably, because I grew up with her presence always present, hardly talking to other people, I never found it strange. For me, it was normal.

In fact, everything in my life before, at the time, seemed normal to me.

This was just another detail at the tip of the iceberg.

"I didn't ask badly, I was just curious." Thalia commented due my silence, "Sorry"

“No, it’s alright” I shook my head, “I just hadn’t-”

Noticed. But I was interrupted before I could say that.

Thalia squeaked in pain, her face retracting into a grimace and her hand instinctively went to her leg.

“Hey, Thalia,” Luke shouted, looking back from his seat, “Stay strong, we’re almost there. Take the next turn.”

I followed his order, watching Thalia quickly, she was way paler than before. I had no idea what I could say or do to help them, so I just continued to drive.

Viola’s pale skin tainted with her own blood jumped into my mind.

[probably-a-plant-thing]

Anon, Mathew, and Marshall will have a playlist song leaked or else 🔫

Alright alright, put the gun down !

Anon: Redmageddon

Not only is it a voice claim thing, but its very much the vibe of one of the songs they'd write about a ghost that they're trying to help out.

Matthew: Audit

Is it a walten files song? Yes. But I blame this song for quite literally being Matthew's backstory blocked out for me. I just added a dead wife n son and Marshall.

Marshall: Ballad of Thunder Road

Same story, I found it and went "whoops that's his backstory for his fucked up back now"

Theres a vocaloid cover on youtube thats really good too

[olafsings]

Music History Today: February 24, 2023

February 24, 1962: Actor Robert Mitchum entered Billboard's Hot 100 with "The Ballad of Thunder Road." Mitchum starred in the movie "Thunder Road."

[frogndtoad]

playlist: songs for kestrel..... :)

kestrel i send YOU those ALSO...... actually going thru our messages and my album log i guess :/ if only because i forgot about crocodile rock for long enough to get started :/

1 - Ezra Furman - Calm Down aka I Should Not Be Alone 2 - Tegan and Sara - Northshore 3 - Matt Heckler - Haw River Ballad 4 - Bruce Springsteen - Thunder Road (this is a song for me actually but you're in my playlist world) 5 - Ska Cubano - Tequila 6 - Elton John - Crocodile Rock

[blizz4rd1203]

Oh you didn't get my reference to Robert Mitchum's 1958 classic The Ballad of Thunder Road? Well I can tell the story, I can tell it all.

[biscuits-of-bagend]

DnDoc, The Loch o' the Lowes #7 - The Mission

Content warning: graphic depiction of violence (and some implied previous violence too)

Part 1 Part 6

Previous stories: DnDoc, Coming Home DnDoc, Space Band DnDoc,A Man's a Man DnDoc, The God of Rock 'n' Roll

---

Rogue nodded and turned to go. He waded quickly, lifting his legs high like he was doing a military march. His laser gun was back on his ship, which was cloaked away over on the other bank of the loch. As he barrelled across the shingle and away from the loch, he tried to focus on where he was going, and not on the feeling of giant, beady cow eyes boring a hole in his back.

   Okay, no gun. But that was fine. The Doctor never had a gun and he still managed to get things done all the time. The Doctor had his sonic screwdriver, though of course they were down a sonic cloud now and they were all going to have to readjust to that. Rogue scrambled up a high-grassed verge and found himself at the side of a road. It wasn't too busy just now, with the afternoon starting to creep into evening, but there were still cars every so often, as well as a lot of motorbikes.

   The Doctor and Ruby caught up with him as he waited for a bike to pass.

   "You okay?" the Doctor said.

   "Yup." Rogue nodded. "Just doing some mental inventory."

   When the road was clear, Rogue led them to the right, along towards the second loch. They passed a second small car park on their right, as well as the path that led up towards the Hogg statue on the other side. All the words and images Rogue had heard and seen over the course of the past twenty-four hours slid through his mind as he looked at the statue - the review of the waterfall, the temptation, the soldiers, the girl running into him, the person behind him, the voice of the 'water-cow' - and he wondered if it was Hogg himself that had done this somehow. He'd been so wrapped up in his own fear, and his worry that he was losing hold of his training, that he'd barely given a thought to the origins of all this sorcery.

   He veered to the right and thundered down the lane to the cottage.

   "Oh… that cottage," said the Doctor over his shoulder. "I can see it now."

   "Me too," called Ruby.

   In front of Rogue, about fifteen yards away, the girl in the nightdress ran down towards the cottage, somehow wildly out-pacing him despite their difference in size. Rogue supposed you could move faster if your feet weren't actually corporeal. But then he blinked and she was only fifteen yards away again, speeding away from him once more. It was like she was beckoning him, an arm gesturing over and over again to try to get a dog to hurry up and come to heel.

   When they arrived at the door, she was nowhere to be seen. There was nobody outside, no soldiers trying to break in or bring the tempted priest to task. But through the windows there blared a warm yellow-ish pink light. Something was afire in there. A thick sulphurous stench poured out.

   "Are we going in?" said Ruby.

   The Doctor put a hand on her shoulder but spoke to Rogue, "Are we, Rogue?"

   Rogue knew what he was doing, and he felt slightly patronised, but he appreciated it. He was letting Rogue run this like a bounty-hunting operation. He must have a bounty-hunter-mode facial expression.

   Rogue faced the Doctor. "Okay, I'll do some reconnaissance. You remember everything you can about Hogg's story."

   "It's not actually Hogg's story," said the Doctor. "Not like 'A Man's a Man' was Burns's song. It's an old ballad, and he put down a version he liked. He may have been a bit inventive here and there too."

   Rogue closed his eyes and tried to get out of his bounty-hunter mindset. "That's interesting, keeping the ballad tradition alive. Maybe it's a bit too alive."

   "Sorry, you didn't need a Scot Lit lecture right now. You do your recon," said the Doctor. He stepped forward and kissed him on the forehead.

   It was hard to stay stressed around him for long.

   Rogue walked over to the window and looked in.

   "Fucking hell," he muttered.

   Inside, there were two figures. One was a white man about Rogue's age with his eyes glued to a large wax figure which he poked and prodded as he saw fit. The other was not a frightened young girl as Rogue had expected. It was an enormous, hulking red devil, crouched over the priest's shoulder and whispering instructions, hellish inspirations. The devil cackled as a youthful scream rang out in the cottage. The girl was here somewhere, or at the very least her spirit was.

   Rogue darted back over to the Doctor. "Screw recon. Let's go save that girl."

   The Doctor nodded and zapped the lock on the cottage door with his sonic screwdriver. Rogue still didn’t have a weapon though. Maybe the Doctor was such a force for good the devil would cower before him? Was Rogue dating an angel?

   The three of them piled through into the bedroom where all this was taking place. Of course it was the bedroom; Rogue wanted to vomit. The room was a mess of laughter, fire, screams, way too much for living mortal eyes to take in. But he did manage to locate the priest, who upon seeing the travellers jumped to his feet and threw the wax figure to the floor. A child-like whimper drifted from the floor into Rogue's ears.

   Rogue advanced on the priest. The devil rose up behind him, glaring down at Rogue. The power of the devil made Rogue take a step back, wrapping a chain of terror around his chest and around his feet.

   Mind over matter. Motion over mind.

   All Rogue had was his body, but that was all he needed. He sprang forward and grabbed the priest by the neck, knocking him down onto the bed. He pinned him with his knee, watching his eyes bug out. He hadn't done this before, not ever. He'd used a gun on his bounties before, but he'd never been this close to death. It was terrifying.

   "Rogue!"

   The Doctor was at his side, his hand squeezing tightly around the top of his arm.

   "Yeah, yeah, I know." Rogue panted. He took a deep breath and released his grip on the priest's neck. He thought about putting his hand over the priest's mouth instead, to stop spells, but from the strangled cough of the priest upon being let go, Rogue figured that probably wasn't too big a concern.

   "What do we do with him?" Rogue said. "I usually have a client to hand him over to, alive or dead."

   "Rogue," said the Doctor, gently pushing his leg off the top of the priest. "Rogue, it's a story. You finished the story."

   Rogue's leg thumped down onto the bed as the priest disappeared. Then the bed disappeared and he was sitting on the floor of the cottage. Then the cottage was gone too, and the three of them were huddled on the ground. They were in the far reaches of a tree's shade, looking out at St. Mary's Loch. No devils, no wax dolls, no voices in his head or screams swirling around.

   "The end," Rogue whispered, then collapsed into the Doctor's arms.

---

Part 8

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse @monster-donut @randomwholocker (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)

[revelisms]

Copia grows up in the shadow of so much music, so much magic, so much life.

Copia, little blue-eyed ruddy-haired Copia, in shoes too big and coat too baggy and breathing in the cool, damp air of the gardens. Led by a gentle hand, bony hand: cold as death, but loving. Much as it can be, in its jadedness.

"You see these ones, here?" their eldest says, the words rasped and ashen, like he's spent a lifetime drinking down the soil his hands have tilled. "They are beautiful, no?"

Copia stares hard at those white flowers, his little fingers pinched at his palm.

They are beautiful.

Tall and beautiful and strange, like the ghoulish creature looming above him, with eyes pale as moonstone; one who is more a mother than a brother, is a beacon, a beam of light in this dark place he fears ever losing.

"You'll have to try planting some, one day," Primo continues. "Won't get a green thumb otherwise, eh?"

Copia will never get a green thumb. But he'll try.

And he'll be older. Only a little—enough to grow into gangly legs, a nose too big for his sullen face, freckles smattered across his cheeks and hair unruly. Older, but not as old as the hand burning as coals, rough as rock, squeezing slow at his shoulder.

"Not like that," his brother gristles, patient as his nonexistent patience can manage. His fingers flick off him, point sharply at the lane stretched ahead. "Eyes on the road, little rat. Now—easy. Second gear, you remember?"

Copia, white knuckled on the steering wheel, huffs. "Yes, yes, I know—"

Secondo spits a breath through his teeth. "I was driving the old bastard's Ferrari, at your age," he grouses, more to himself. "Alright. Easy, now—you've got it—Hell beneath, the clutch—"

"Sorry, sorry—"

Copia will never be a good driver. Puttering away in his go-kart of a Fiat, dingy and denim blue, that they'll tease him endlessly for. But he'll try.

And Copia will be older, still. Not quite a man, not quite a boy, not quite an Emeritus—not quite anything but a rat listening in on everything, sticking his ear where it never belongs.

(Where has he ever belonged?)

It winds him towards misplaced conversations and snarking gossip, plucked guitar strings and crashing drums—and often, so often, to the old music room on the second floor. The one with the chipped black piano Terzo favors.

Terzo, with his midnight clothes and midnight hair and midnight nails, his hand-poured coffees black as tar, books upon books of stained lyrics and notes. Terzo, hazed with the morning's gloom: paintless and beautiful and bone-tired, always, since his oath-taking.

And Copia envies him. Resents a brother who can swoon men and women and demons alike with nothing more than a crook of his finger. Who needs only to tuck the half-tamed waves of his hair behind his ears and flash a smile to look impeccable.

Whose fingers melt across the keys like a lover. A symphony of emotion that is powerful, hateful, all-encompassing.

He dances between two set of melodies: two songs at war with each other. Eventually, they will become ballads of their own. One, Copia will find the ink-scrawled pages for, years after his brother's soul has been thrown back through the Gate, and claim.

Another triplet of feather-light notes, climbing a dissonant ladder. His voice soft from his chest, haunting in its echoing, deep and light at once.

"I can feel the thunder that's breaking..."

A pause. His nose crinkling. A waterfall, slow-stroked fingers and thumb, repeated like a skipping record.

"With flesh, and blood, and bones, I...mnh...Did no one hear the distant...no, no, no—"

And he'll smack out ripples of classical adagios, crescendos: broken, jazz-chorded flails: snarling in frustration, before slumping. Slowly, sighing, tracing back to those lovely notes. An effortless bleeding of his soul over the keys, over and over and over again.

Copia will never be a good pianist. Saints, never like him. But he'll try.

He'll try—in his unevenly-spaced flowerbeds; in his father's battered, beat-up cruiser; in the white-glossed grand piano he has them drag up on stage, just to pluck out a sea of chords that are only partly his own.

That is home, for him. Where he belongs.

Glittering in those suits, grinning in the sweat of it all, flipping microphones with sightless ease and dancing circles over those checkerboard floors, as though they were meant for only him.

And, in a way, he supposes, they always were.

Metal squeezed in his palm. Armor draped off his shoulders. The paints of the dead claiming him, above all else.

His people. His stage.

His music, his magic, his life.

For all of them, in their own ways, they always were.

copia / stages

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

'Gone Ridin'' by Chris Isaak, from his debut album SILVERTONE, 1985...

I like Isaak's stuff when he really leans into the '50s-style rockabilly, which matches up perfectly with the bike riding theme. I can picture it: Being out on the road, on a Harley, middle of the night, only my headlight illuminating everything around me...

... probably somewhere in the wilderness... A desert, perhaps? In a sea of complete darkness...

Almost a lot like... This level... From CRASH BANDICOOT: WARPED:

Honestly, the Chris Isaak song I think syncs up perfectly with this level, and the other motorcycle levels really. Being a time travel game, CRASH 3 brilliantly made the biker levels these '50s Midwest highways, with diners and retro gas stations and such. All the cars are designed to look like they're from that period, too, which is neat. Both the police cars and the hot rods, the latter of which were prominent at the time. So prominent, that there was a whole subgenre of rock n' roll dedicated to these vehicles and the fellas using them to race, outrun the cops, etc.

In fact, I think of a few other songs that could match up well with one of these levels, like 'Hot Rod Lincoln' (particularly the uptempo cover by Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen, from 1971):

Robert Mitchum's 'The Ballad of Thunder Road', 1958:

Jimmy Dolan's 'Hot Rod Race', 1950:

And plenty more, just a few examples off the top of my head.

[thebandcampdiaries]

Fist of Five presents: “Sparrow Road”

Fist of Five has just unveiled a new work named “Sparrow Road.” This release is all about setting the bar higher in terms of genre definitions and sonic aesthetics, making for a great combination of alternative rock influences. The EP features six songs, and there is room for the band to explore different textures and ideas. The first song, “The Dance,” sets the flow in motion with a touching and extremely beautiful piano part, which leads into a heavy rock song with a powerful touch. “Can’t Be Over” shows another side of the band. The acoustic arrangement has a timeless quality to it, and the guitar is beautifully articulate, matching the emotional intensity of the vocals. The title track has an epic rock ballad twist with 6/8 feel that makes the rhythm feel hypnotic and unique.

The song “Imperfections” will fire up the listeners from the very first second. The clap ostinato and the vocal chant are infectious, and the intro part leads into a deep and brooding verse with growling bass and thundering toms to match the vibe of the vocals. The electric guitars kick in, making the chorus lift beautifully and adding an extra lift. “Can You Hear Me” offers another nostalgic acoustic moment. The stunning orchestral arrangement and crescendo leading to the full band arrangement are immersive and cinematic, making this one of the most emotional tracks on this diverse EP. The closing number is aptly titled “Farewell My Friend.” It kicks off with a beautiful section featuring electric guitar and vocals. The sound is sparse, yet rich and far-reaching, before eventually allowing the song to open up as a huge full-band arrangement, serving as a massive coda to the EP.

This release comes highly recommended to fans of artists like Incubus, Dead Rituals or Velvet Revolver, among others. Still, Fist of Five has a very personal sound that escapes easy comparisons.

Find out more about Fist of Five, and do not miss out on “Sparrow Road,” which is now available on Spotify and other streaming platforms.