#elvis on the 21st century

[hooked-on-elvis]

FRESH NEWS. ✨ WHO'S THE GOAT?

Published on Forbes, Dec 28, 2023,08:00am

Read article here:

Impressively, “Blue Christmas” isn’t Presley’s only hit on this week’s Rock Streaming Songs chart. He also sits at No. 12 with “Here Comes Santa Claus (Right Down Santa Claus Lane).” That tune has previously broken into the top 10, and this frame it lifts from No. 23, improving considerably as people get into the holiday season.

♥

[beatleslegend]

'Now And Then' officially tops the UK charts, setting a new record for the Beatles

The Beatles' latest song, "Now And Then", has officially topped the charts in the UK, setting a new record for the Fab Four.

The composition debuted in the charts at 42nd place - after only 10 hours of single sales. Within a week, she soared to first position.

The Beatles' first number one single came out in 1963 ("From Me to You"), which is 60 years ago - the longest gap between the first and last number one songs by the same group.

It was also the Beatles' 18th number one hit. This is a record for British artists on The Official Charts Company charts. Only Elvis Presley has more (21 hits).

"Now And Then" also became the fastest-selling single of 2023 to date and the best-selling vinyl single of the 21st century.

Another achievement is that they are the oldest group to reach number one in the British charts.

“This is a very emotional moment for me,” Paul McCartney commented on his new achievements in the hit parade.

[2000s-music-tourney]

Here are all 72 songs we are entering in the tournament

Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles

Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane

Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues

Sweet Caroline By Neil Diamond

All along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix

Pinball Wizard by The Who

House of the Rising Sun by the Animals

California Dreamin’ by The Mama's and the Papa's

People are strange by the Doors

Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones

Mrs. Robinson By Simon and Garfunkel

Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival

Good vibrations by the Beach Boys

What a wonderful World by Louis Armstrong

21st Century Schizoid Man By King Crimson

Space Oddity by David Bowie

You really got me by the Kinks

Spirit in the Sky By Norman Greenbaum

Respect by Aretha Franklin

Feeling Good by Nina Simone

I'm a Believer by The Monkees

White Room by Cream

Piece of my Heart By Big Brother and the Holding Company

Season of the Witch by Donovan

Like a rolling stone by Bob Dylan

Be my Baby by the Ronettes

Son of a Preacher man by Dusty Springfield

She's not there by the Zombies

Complication by the Monks

Heroin by the Velvet Underground

Ain't Too Proud for Beggin by the Temptations

I want you back by The Jackson 5

Alice's Restaurant Massacree by Arlo Guthrie

Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

Eight Miles High by the Byrds

Come A little bit Closer by Jay and the Americans

So Long Mom (A song for World War III) by Tom Lehrer

Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash

Suite: Judy Blue Eyes by Cosby, Stills and Nash

Change is gonna come by Sam Cooke

You Can't Hurry Love by the Supremes

Happy Together by the Turtles

Tainted Love by Gloria Jones

Dream a Little Dream of Me by Mama Cass

Maybe This Time by Liza Minnelli

Don't Rain on My Parade by Barbra Streisand

Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul and Mary

Good Times, Bad Times by Led Zeppelin

Ain't no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

This boots are made for walking by Nancy Sinatra

Sitting by the dock of the bay by Otis Redmond

Cactus tree by Joni Mitchell

Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells

I Got You (I Feel Good) by James Brown

Georgia on My Mind by Ray Charles

River Deep Mountain High by Ike and Tina Turner

My Way by Frank Sinatra

For What It’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield

Fire by Arthur Brown

Blackberry Way by the move

The Girl From Ipanema by Stan Getz And Joāo Gilberto

Can't take my eyes off you - Frankie valli

Green onions by Booker T. & The M.G.’s

Stand by Me by Ben E. King

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows By Lesley Gore

Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett

Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell

I Say a Little Prayer by Dionne Warwick

Aquarius (Let the Sunshine In) by the 5th Dimension

The Impossible Dream by Jim Nabors

Return to sender by Elvis Presley

It's not Unusual by Tom Jones

[izzasecretredacted]

btw I've seen a couple posts that lean a bit against the idea that the Kendrick/Drake beef is just some petty drama by two bitter and kinda problematic famous people, and this opinion is just so disconnected from what this means in it's greater context that I honestly believe its plainly disrespectful to the culture. So I wanna try to get ahead of that narrative real quick.

No one is claiming that Kendrick is a flawless role modal. Mr. Morale has brought up tons of questions in terms of Kendrick's view on women. There's also a line in Meet the Grahams that's very blatantly SWERF rhetoric and that, at some point at least, could serve as part of a greater point about him as a whole. That said......

Drake is not 'kinda problematic'. He's a child star that hid behind being bi-racial as an excuse to abuse several black artforms for his own benefit. When Kendrick calls Drake a colonizer, that's not just an edgy way of saying that Drake isn't 'cool enough for the big boys', he's calling him a fucking colonizer. This is something that was ignored for over a decade because he was a successful musician that made money. He is the Elvis of the 21st century.

On top of that, there are the allegations that Drake is running an actual Epstein level human trafficking ring. I get that there's not technically any of that precious proof of that and sometimes rappers will just throw allegations at a wall and see what sticks. But this is a man who already finds himself caught being very inappropriate around underaged girls. In a post #metoo world are we really just gonna let these slide as just some random gossip?

So no, there is no 'both sides' in this situation. Kendrick is flawed, but Drake is a colonizer, and now that that fact is finally unavoidable, it is not okay to just brush it all of as 'petty drama'.

[arcsystemworksofficial]

Plz talk about leo whitefang guilty gear

He doesn’t talk about it much these days but Leo Whitefang used to be in an amateur barbershop quartet. Of course, he was the baritone. None of the other members of the quartet are important to the world of Guilty Gear but they're all living pretty comfortable lives and they meet together once a year on principle.

Leo Whitefang isn’t the only Guilty Gear character with a musical history.

After the outlawing of electronics, there was a shift in musical culture - it took a while for magical instruments (see I-No's guitar) or the public magic radio to be created, so for a period after the dawn of the 21st century, there was a rise in the popularity of both acoustic music and “music that can be performed anywhere”. Acapella and barbershop groups started forming to perform in public places in place of radios and radio stations (which had yet to be replaced at this point). This also led to the rise in popularity of vocal-heavy genres (think Gospel or Doo-Wop).

It didn’t take long for the radio to be replaced however, along with magical versions of electronic instruments, so by the time Guilty Gear takes place, musical genres have shifted back to what you would expect (with just a little more Rock than before). But acapella and barbershop groups occasionally go through a cultural revival, especially for festivals and celebrations - so you wouldn’t be hard pressed to find a couple more Guilty Gear characters who at least dabbled in it.

Ky Kiske was in a choir group for a short period (although he's not a very good singer by his own admission). Johnny briefly tried out an indie music career, trying to do “An Elvis thing”, which didn’t last very long. And to this day Kum Haehyun can be found putting on impromptu performances in music shops when she finds an instrument she likes.

But back to Leo. While most of his former barbershop buddies don't really matter, he did meet his best friend through them. Singing lead in their group was a wannabe superstar with a passion for mixology. Though they’re not important to the story of Guilty Gear, they are still to this day Leo Whitefang's best friend - and help him work on definitions for his dictionary. This man is known as Gem. Short for “Guilty Gear Eminem”, which is his full name.

[searchingwardrobes]

I'm back!!! After months and months of creative exhaustion and writer's block, this story came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. It's just a little one shot of pillow talk in Camelot that's a little fluffy, a tiny bit angsty, and a whole lot of tenderness. I hope you all enjoy it!

Rated T

               Killian wished for the first time for those garish artificial lights of Storybrooke. As Emma said, he was becoming a 21st century man, and he had come to enjoy the ability to see his beloved in all her glory, even after the sun went down. Here in Camelot, however, he had to rely on his sense of touch alone to map the marks on Emma he had come to know so well.

            “You and I, we understand each other,” Emma had said once, and the longer they were together, the more they saw it to be true. Though many a woman had warmed his bed, he still felt self-conscious the first time Emma saw the scars that riddled his body, yet she had smiled in that knowing way she had, and had cheekily said, “let me show you mine.”

            His thumb now grazed the puckered one on her shoulder, a form of punishment by a foster father using the tip of his cigar. He nudged her hair aside with his nose, then lightly brushed his lips across the faint white line behind her right ear, caused by a broken beer bottle.

            “I thought I ducked in time,” Emma had chuckled when she told him the story, “until I felt the trickle of blood dripping down my neck.”

            He knew what it was to make light of a person’s past, as if childhood slavery was just one of those things that happens sometimes. There was nothing normal about it, however, just as there was nothing normal about Emma living in an alleyway at the age of ten ducking from beer brawls.

            Emma shifted in his arms with a contented sigh. He wished she could sleep, but since the darkness wouldn’t allow herself that reprieve, at least she could find solace in his embrace. “You silence the voices in my head,” she had told him, pressing her nose to his collarbone. If that was the case, he would not leave her side, though the sleeping arrangements hadn’t made her father very happy at first.

            Killian’s fingers danced along the jagged scars along her upper back, the newest ones, from when a skip she was chasing pushed her into a plate glass window. That story elicited a shrug and bragging rights that she only missed a few days of work. Bravado – he understood that defense mechanism as well.

            They really did understand one another.

            Emma reached around for his arm and pulled his hand down to lace his fingers with hers. She pressed their joined hands to her chest, and he noticed the slightest change in her bearing. An almost imperceptible stiffening, and did her pulse just kick up a notch? She shifted again, this time as if she were uncomfortable.

            “Are you alright, love?”

            Emma released his hand, and using her magic, she lit the candles in the room. Then she rolled over to face him, her hands fluttering, as if she didn’t know whether to touch him or not. She finally balled them up in the sheet that covered her, pulling it up to her chin.

            “Do you know the song ‘Brandy’?”

            Killian chuckled. “You know my only knowledge of this realm’s music is you and Henry. Right now your lad is educating me on something called punk? Apparently, it was a favorite of his father’s.”

            Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, Neal loved that stuff. I prefer the classics.”

            “Like those beetle people?”

            “The Beatles, Killian, and yes. Also Motown, Elvis, Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don’t know why, I just always liked the old stuff.”

            “And this song? ‘Brandy’? Is by one of these singing groups?”

            “Uh, no, but it's kind of the same genre, I guess. I don’t know even know who sings it, actually. I thought maybe you’d heard it at Granny’s or something. It’s about this girl and a sailor, so . . . “

            “Ah.” He nodded, encouraging her to go on. He was glad she’d lit the candles, though he still couldn’t see her well. Well enough, however, to see the furrow of her brow and the way her lips turned down. This was obviously about more than a song. “Most sailors I know prefer rum, though. Brandy is a little high brow for our modest tastes.”

            Emma rolled her eyes, which was precisely what he’d been going for. “Brandy is a woman. She lives by the sea and serves drinks to sailors. In a tavern, I guess.”

            “Aptly named.”

            Emma adjusted her pillow beneath her head and rolled over. She continued the story gazing up at the ceiling instead of looking at him.

            “The song tells the story about her and the man she falls in love with. He’s a sailor, and he loves her, but always leaves her.”

            Killian is beginning to see where this is going. He shifts closer to her, propping his head up on his blunted arm so he can look down at her as she speaks. With his hand, he strokes her arm gently.

            “The chorus,” Emma continues, “is what the man always says to her: Brandy, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be, but my life, my love, my lady is the sea.”

            There are many things Killian could say. The first thought that comes to his mind is that the man in the song is either an idiot or a complete cad who most likely has a girl in every port. He’s known the type. People probably assume he’s the type, but he was always careful that his one-night stands had the same expectations he did. He actively avoided women who would be a “good wife.” Not every sailor had good form, however. He could explain all of that to Emma; tell her that the song is unfortunately a common tale, but it’s never been his.

            He knows, however, that none of those things are what Emma needs right now. So he waits, without moving, his hand still caressing her arm. Emma releases a puff of angry breath before speaking again.

            “I’ve always hated that song.”

            “Emma, love,” Killian says gently, shifting onto his back and reaching for her, “come here.”

            She comes to him a bit shyly, and he smiles at her gently as he cups her face with his hand. In her gaze, he can see hesitation. Fear. He doesn’t know if it’s the darkness whispering doubts, or if it’s her same old insecurities, but this is one battle he knows how to help her fight.

            “My life,” he says, kissing her cheek, “my love,” he kisses her nose, “my lady,” he kisses her forehead, then pulls back so he can gaze into her eyes, “is you, Emma.”

            Her eyes well up with tears, and a hesitant smile teases the corners of her mouth. “The Jolly Roger was your home for so long. You had nothing holding you back. Nothing tying you down.”

            Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?”

            “A home,” Emma breathes without hesitation.

            Killian nods, then kisses her fiercely, pulling her to himself, his hand tangling in her hair, pouring into his kiss all his hopes and dreams for their future. When they part, breathless, Emma presses her forehead to his, her smile finally full and joyous.

            “So I didn’t freak you out when I mentioned that white picket fence?”

            Killian tucks her against him, wrapping his arms fully around her. As he kisses the top of her head, he thinks of the real estate ads he and Henry have been looking at, one house in particular that looks fit for a princess, with a view of the sea.

            “Not at all, love. I want that too.”

            Emma snuggles further into his embrace, her hand splayed on his chest, right over his heart.

            “Good,” she says, with that edge of smugness he’s always found so endearing.

            He tries to stay awake, for her sake, but the warm, flickering light of the candles, combined with the softness of her in his arms, lulls him more than the ocean waves. Just as sleep pulls him under, he murmurs against her hair.

            “You’re my home now, Emma. My life, my love, my lady.”

Tagging: @snowbellewells @jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateherokillian @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084

I don't even know who is around anymore, so let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list!!

[unknowntoyou2205]

1960's love

Info: Y/n and Steve meet when they were teenagers before he became Captain America, now in the 21st Century the two say their long awaited vows after overcoming it all.

Relationship: Steve Rogers x reader

Y/n smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing the white dress she had on. This was the moment she was waiting for, her and Steve's wedding day. She had dreamed of this from the moment they had met back in 1963. The two were at a gathering when they bumped into each other. Y/n had fallen for the blue eyes that she made eye contact with from the moment they left, and she couldn't believe the life she now lived.

Why can't we go back to '63? To sit in those old drive-in seats And listen to Elvis sing While we kiss in the backseat When we'd both make it home past dark From watching the moon hug the stars You'd hold my hand tight As we part for the night

Young y/n giggled as she allowed Steve to lead her back to his dads car that he had borrowed for the night. She waved goodbye to her mother who stood at the front door, watching her youngest enter the car of her new lover, apparently ‘the one’. There was a love hate relationship between Steve and her parents since they started courting, and y/n could only smile watching the awkward silences between her family and boyfriend. It didn’t take much for Steve to be awkward, hell he was awkward for weeks after they begun hanging out. It had taken Bucky to get him to ask her out in the first place.

“Where are we going tonight?” Y/n asked, smiling at Steve as he started up the car. “I thought we might go for a outdoor cinema tonight. Hang out in the car.” Steve stated, glancing at his girlfriend before watching the road. “How romantic.” Y/n joked, causing Steve to smile slightly. “What’s on.” “Elvis performance.” Steve spoke with a grin, knowing how much y/n loved Elvis’s songs. “You’ve won me there.” Y/n stated, grinning from ear. “I thought as much.” Steve mocked her causing her to giggle.

Steve parked near the back of the cars parked and turned off the ignition. Y/n smiled as they moved to the back of the car. Steve grabbed some drinks for them before the movie started, and y/n cuddled into his side, feeling his hand on her back. But neither were them were paying attention to the movie, for all they could hear was the breathing between them. Wanting to be closer, Steve brought his hand up to y/n’s cheek, and caressed it gently before moving her chin up to face him. Y/n smiled up at him before moving closer to bring her lips to his. Both smiled into the kiss as they forgot about the movie, melting into each others embrace.

It's when you pull me close Scrunch your nose Whisper in my ear Nice and slow You'd say you're my 1960s, baby Never leave my side We can fall asleep Under the stars or sneak out tonight

Steve drove y/n home after the film was over. Their night had been filled with love and laughter, yet both wouldn’t allow themselves to get carried away, instead opting to enjoy being together instead. Y/n was half asleep as they neared her house, and Steve could only admire her, with her head leaning against the car window, eyes half shut. Bringing the car to a stop, Steve opened his door and got out as y/n pulled her head up, looking around in confusion.

Y/n allowed Steve to open her door and take her hand, helping her out of the car. Kissing his cheek in thanks, y/n moved towards the pathway up to her house as Steve closed the car door. It was late by now, and all the lights in her house was off, but y/n knew that her father was no doubt up in the back kitchen, nursing his nightly brandy.

“Look.” Steve whispered in her ear, pointing up to the sky. Y/n looked up to see the night stars and half moon up above them. “It’s beautiful.” Y/n whispered in awe. “Come on.”

Steve tugged at y/n’s hand and moved towards the steps of y/n’s house. Sitting on them, Steve pulled y/n to sit beside him before wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. Y/n sighed in content and curled into her boyfriend, enjoying each others company.

“I want my life to be with you y/n. Everything I do will be for you.” Steve whispered, placing his head on her shoulder, kissing it gently. “I believe you are the one for me, never let me go.” Y/n stated, looking at him through her lashes.

Steve scrunched his nose a little and y/n giggled as he peppered kisses along her face.

Our parents may worry But we both know that we're fine They say teenage love don't last but I got hope for you and I

Y/n came home crying after her night out with Steve. They had spent the night with Bucky who had joined the army, and Steve had announced that he had applied to possibly join the army. Steve came to her door, and stepped in but didn’t dare enter the house as y/n’s parents came to see what was going on. Seeing his daughters state, y/n’s father glared at Steve and stalked towards him.

“Dad no.” Y/n stated, glancing at her father. “Y/n..” Steve started to say but y/n put her hand up. “I don’t want to talk to you right now Steve. Please leave.” Y/n stated.

Steve glanced at y/n’s mother who nodded at him to leave before moving to comfort her daughter. Looking at his girlfriends father who still stood with a hard look on his face, Steve sighed and hung his head as he left for the night. Y/n allowed her mother to guide her to the living room, sitting down on the couch before her mother left to the kitchen. Soon there was a warm cup of coco in her hand and her mother sat beside her, rubbing her back as her father sat opposite them, brandishing his brandy.

“I told you he was no good for you.” Y/n’s father started. “y/f/n” Your mother scolded him with a harsh look. “Well he is. Young timid guy like him is no good for her.” “He’s joining the army.” Y/n sniffed, causing her father to get an outburst of laughter. “Maybe it’s best that you guys ended it then, hmm.” Y/n’s mother stated, tucking some hair behind her ear. “End it?” Y/n asked, scrunching her eyes in confusion, “We haven’t ended anything mum.” “Young love doesn’t last love, it’s okay for it to end. There’ll be others.” “I still love him mum, and he loves me. I just , don’t know what I’ll do if he gets in. I worry about him mum.” “Tsk, love. What do you know about love at this age.” Her father commented.Y/n glanced at her father and could only cry more at the remark that she would normally laugh at. Y/n’s mother sighed and wrapped her arms around her daughter, not wanting to listen to her cries.

Why can't we go back to '63? To seat on those old diner seats And you'll make fun of me but I don't mind it When the roads are bare You speed to make me scared But then you'll stop 'Cause you know I'm a good girl at heart

Y/n and Steve sat together opposite Bucky as they chatted about how life had been back home. It had been 2 years since Steve had joined the army and y/n couldn’t of been more proud of him. While at first she had been hesitant about her boyfriend joining the army, she managed to oversee her worries, and despite nothing but fear being present when Steve told her that he was going to take part in a new super soldier serum experiment with Mister Stark, her fears became nothing but bubbles that evaporated in the air. Steve had grown great success from his time in the army. Besides, she wouldn’t lie that the serum lead to certain eye excitement.

“So what have you been up to y/n? Any fellas we need to watch out for?” Bucky winked at y/n as Steve shifted in his seat, his arm around her shoulders tightening. “Now Bucky you know I only have eyes on one man, even if I rarely see him.” Y/n joked back, placing a hand on Steves thigh. Steve looked down at y/n with a smile and kissed her cheek . “But to answer your question, nothing much. Still working away, nothing special.” Y/n shook her head, leaning it on her lovers shoulder. “Little bookwork here, never away from them.” Bucky joked causing Steve to laugh. “Well at least the worst thing she could get is a papercut.” Steve joked back and y/n fake laughed at the soldiers humour. “Very funny guys.” Y/n smiled, allowing a yawn to slip out. “Someone’s getting tired.” Steve stated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No I’m not.” y/ denied, not wanting the night to end. “Why don’t we call it a night. We’ve early call tomorrow anyway.” Steve stated, looking at Bucky to avoid seeing y/ns look at sadness.

Bucky smiled back at y/n softly before reaching over and squeezing her arm as the group of three stood up from their booth. Y/n and Steve greeted Bucky goodnight before leaving in different directions. Steve still drove his fathers car, not wanting to spend money on something he would rarely be driving. Y/n often kidded with  him calling hi a cheap skate, but Steve also knew that he would need his money for other things, particularly something for a certain someone.

Driving back to y/n’s , Steve looked over at his girl wit ha childish grin on his face. Knowing what was about to happen, y/n gripped her chair as Steve began to press his foot onto the gas pedal. The road way to y/n’s was straight and quiet, and Steve had gotten into the habit of racing down it, knowing how y/n would react. As usual, y/n pressed herself into her seat before gripping Steve’s arm, a signal that she had enough. A small part of y/n loved his antics since he would never push it too far, but the adrenaline was enough to make her body grow with fright. And as they reached y/n’s house, Steve would move towards his girls car door, and open if for her. In return, y/n would give him a brief kiss before pecking his check and running to her door, waving Steve off as he drove down the road.

It's when you pull me close Scrunch your nose Whisper in my ear Nice and slow

Steve had collected y/n from work and was now heading towards her home. Y/n could tell he was nervous, but refused to ask as she knew it was most likely to do with the mission he was starting this evening. Every mission regarding flying left him uneasy, as he knew the risks that came with it. So did y/n, but she refused to acknowledge them, for being a soldiers girlfriend had risks. If they were married than she could live on army grounds, but neither of them were in a rush, being only 22 to them meant they had years.

Goodbyes before a mission were always emotional. Y/n could never stop the tears that fell, and Steve was always left with a sinking feeling in his chest, knowing he was going to be away from his love for a while. The two had a strong relationship so he knew she would never stray, but leaving her was always something that left the two of them in a bubble of loneliness. So stepping out of the car, Steve patted his pocket before walking over to y/n’s side, opening the door for her.

“How are you gone this time?” Y/n asked as he helped her out, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist. “A week, I’ll be back before you know it.” Steve stated, pecking her nose, causing her to smile a little. “But I have something for you.” “For me?” She asked, watching in confusion as he stepped back slightly with nerves visible.

Steve hands shook slightly as he dug into his pockets, grabbing the box he had been carrying for the past week while he tried to find the right moment to ask. Eyeing his movement, y/n’s eyes widened when she seen the small box.

“Steve…” Y/n started, knowing it was something expensive. “Y/n, please let me talk before I stop myself, again.” Steve spoke with a slight laugh. “Sorry.” Y/n giggled. “Y/n y/l/n, these past few years with you have been nothing short of amazing. I have enjoyed every moment with you. I won’t drag this on in fear of choking up so I will just say it. Y/n my life will not be complete without you, would you do me the honour, of becoming my wife.” Steve asked, opening the box in front of him. “You know your supposed to get down on one knee.” y/N JOKED to try stop the tears, and Steve looked down before starting to move. “No, no Steve, it’s okay.” Y/n laughed again, grabbing his arms to prevent him from moving. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Steve couldn’t help the grin that came to him as y/n threw her arms around him, hugging him as the tears of happiness fell down her cheeks. Kissing her head, Steve pulled back and laughed, taking y/n’s hand before sliding the ring on her finger. Y/n looked at it in awe before looking at Steve. Bringing her hand behind his head, she pulled him into a kiss, and Steve melted into her, bringing her towards him.

“I love you Steve Rogers.” Y/n stated, bringing her hand through his hair. “I love you too, so much.” Steve smiled, kissing her cheek and burying his head in her shoulder.

'Cause you're my 1960s, baby Promise me, you'll never leave my side Stay with me forever 'Cause I can't live without you tonight

Y/n sat at the dinner table admiring her ring. Her mum was telling her the story of how Steve had asked her father for her hand in marriage, and it was a funny story to say the least. It nearly with Steve having bruises and her father having a sore hand had her mother not walked in. But her mother knew Steve made her daughter happy and that was all that mattered to her.

"I think a small wedding would be best. Have family we love and friends we care about. No need to over complicate things." Y/n said to her mum as she finished making the dinner. "I couldn't agree more." Her mother replied, straining the water from the veg. "Or maybe even just Y/n stopped talking as she heard a knock on the door. “Get that love will you?” y/n’s mother asked her daughter as she placed plates on the table.

Y/n sighed but got up, moving towards the door. She scrunched her eyes as she opened it, seeing a woman dressed in military style suit and a man in a suit beside her.

“Hello?” She asked, eyeing the two in front of her. “Hi, y/n l/n?” The woman spoke. “Yes?” “I’m Peggy Carter, this is Mr Stark. We work with Steve within the army. I’m afraid we have some bad news.” “No.” Y/n begged, her mind turning to the worst. “Unfortunately Steve Rogers aircraft took a hit, we lost contact with him about 3 hrs ago.” Mr Stark spoke, clearing his throat. “Steve has been lost on mission. He died during impact.” Peggy stated, watching as the woman in front of her froze in shock. “No, please no.” Y/n begged, her legs growing weak. “He asked me to tell you that he loved you, and he’s sorry that he couldn’t be your forever.” Peggy spoke, placing a hand on y/n’s shoulder.

Time stopped as y/n could only scream as she feel to the floor. Hearing her daughters cries, y/n’s mother came to the door to see what the commotion was about. Seeing her daughter on the ground she took one look at the man and woman at her door before putting the pieces together. She heard a car pull up as she bent down to comfort her daughter.

Mr l/n looked at his front door in confusion as he got out of his car. He could only see the back of the two guests as he walked up, but as they turned to look at him he seen his wife comforting their inconsolable daughter. He greeted the two with a nod before they turned back to the two women.

“Again, I am so sorry.” Peggy stated, before the two left. “He’s gone, he’s gone.” Y/n cried out, gripping her mothers arm as she weeped.

Her mother could only shush her as her father watched on.

You're my 1960s, baby Never leave my side Stay with me forever 'Til we die

Y/n smiled as she felt arms wrap around her waist, Steve coming into the mirrors picture as she hummed, leaning her  body back to rest against his chest. The two never spoke about how y/n had come to be in this generation, but that never mattered to Steve. Steve never knew fully what had had happened to y/n, and y/n didn’t see a reason to tell him. All he knew was that y/n’s family had witches in the past, and somehow it had remained dormant for many years before y/n was born. But none of that mattered to them, all they cared about was that they had found each other, and now they could spend forever, just as they had promised.

“Hey you.” Steve smiled, nuzzling into y/n’s neck. “Hey.” Y/n breathed, giggling as Steve pecked her collar. “I was wondering where you got to.” Steve said, looking at her through the mirror. “Just came for a quiet moment, remembering everything.” Y/n sighed, looking down as she started playing with Steve’s hands. “Y/n, love.” Steve sighed, he always hated the thought of the pain y/n could have had after Peggy came with the news of his loss. “Hey, it’s okay. I wouldn’t change a thing when I got you back in the end.” Y/n comforted him, placing a hand on his check as she looked at him through the mirror.

Y/n sighed in content as he melted under y/n’s touch. There was always something about y/n that made him feel at ease. Every mission forgotten once they were in each other’s arms. The worry of  each other’s lives left in the back of their minds. Y/n could only smile as she moved her head to kiss his cheek, and Steve shifted his head to catch her lips.

“They’re waiting on us for the first dance.” Steve spoke, deciding to part their heated kiss. “We’ve waited nearly 100 years for it, they can wait a little longer.” Y/n joked as Steve spinned her around to face him fully. “Yes well, I think Tony is lacking patience.” Steve joked, and y/n giggled, knowing how impatient their friend was. “Well than let’s not keep them waiting any longer, my husband.” Y/n stated, grinning at the new title. “My wife.” Steve joked back, offering his elbow as he moved away from her.

They say young love never lasts But we'll prove 'em wrong tonight 'Cause you're my 1960s, baby Tonight

Their first dance song was one that y/n had fallen in love with when she first heard it. It told their story perfectly, even if very few knew it. Their young love lasted beyond many years, far more than people expect. Y/n couldn’t get rid of the smile on her face as Steve led her across the dance floor. Her eyes caught an old woman who sat in a wheelchair in the corner. The woman who had once told y/n that her love was taken from her now sat watching them get married. It became a full circle, and y/n couldn’t be happier.

“Your my 1960’s baby, tonight.” Steve murmered under his breath as he twirled y/n one more time before dipping her. “I love you Rogers.” Y/n spoke, running a hand through his hair. “I love you too, Rogers.” Steve grinned as he brought her back up, pulling her in for a kiss.

[ab4eva]

‘Tomorrow Will Be Too Late’

Part 2

Summary: Elvis Presley x Reader / For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved two things - Elvis Presley and time travel. After seeing the 1968 Comeback Special for the first time, you decide to try and get back to him for one incredible night, by any means necessary.

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Language, sex (good ol fashioned p in v).

Word count: 3886

TWBTL Masterlist

-

You circle the hotel room at a frantic pace, a battle of reason and emotion waging war in your mind. You’ve had the past two hours to sit alone and think about everything - where you are, what you’re doing. And lord help you, what you’re about to do. Scattered thoughts slam back and forth at an impossibly fast rate, bouncing around in your head until you can’t think straight anymore.

How did I get here? Like how did I actually get here? Am I really about to try and seduce Elvis Presley? But has he already seduced me by sending me to his hotel room? What if I mess up my timeline? What if I mess up Elvis’s timeline?

What if, what if, what if.

You had a plan. A solid plan. Spend one incredible night with Elvis, a night you could look back on and re-live forever. And now that it looked like that plan was on its way to actually becoming a reality, you were freaked out. You weren’t a prude, far from it. You were a 21st century woman - empowered, enlightened and ready for almost anything. But faced with the stark truth of your present circumstance, you were failing to keep a grip on your mental and emotional state.

Adrenaline is pumping hard and fast through your veins as you convince yourself you couldn’t possibly go through with the thing you had come to do. It was too much. HE was too much. How did you ever think you were supposed to be alone in a room with him, talk to him face to face, and keep it together? Not to mention…others things? Your thoughts become more and more frantic. Your fight or flight instinct is kicking in and before you know it, flight has taken hold. You have to get out of this room, if only just to breathe a little, clear your head. Grabbing your purse you practically run to the door, throw it open and bolt out without even looking. Only to run smack into Elvis for the second time that day, colliding with him harder than the first time. He lets out a grunt at the impact and his arms instinctively wrap around your waist as he struggles to keep you both from falling.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, honey,” he huffs out as he finally balances you both on your feet, gripping you closely to his chest. “Leaving so soon?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head as you look up at him, absorbing him. Your senses are in overdrive being this close, all your synapses firing at once. The way he smells (spicy with a hint of smoke), the way he feels (hot - like a furnace, lean and solid), the way he looks (sleepy bedroom eyes - curious and tired, hair mussed and soft, sharp jawline as if carved by Michelangelo himself). And the intangible things - the calmness (even in your current state) that settles over you as he cradles you, his powerful magnetism unlike anything you’ve ever felt (it rattles your brain a little) and the need that radiates off him. Not sexual, just…needy.

You start to shake a little, knees feeling weak. If he didn’t have such a firm hold on you you're sure you might slide right down to the floor. His body pressed so tightly against yours has you flushing with heat, your heart rate increasing every second you’re trapped in his embrace. You want him to let you go. You want to stay in his arms forever. You can feel every inch of him, hard and soft at the same time in a delicious dichotomy. His blue eyes are playful as he waits while you drink your fill of him.

“You gotta name, or shall I just keep callin’ ya honey?” His smile is cheeky and irresistible, those cheekbones deepening to impossible sharpness, a dimple peeking through in his left cheek. His arms are still gripping you like a vise and you can barely breathe being this close to him.

“Y/N,” you say, but it comes out as more of a whisper than you intend. “Y/N,” you say louder, voice more steady this time. “And you’re Elvis Presley.”

His laugh is deep and rich with a hint of gravel, it vibrates in your chest, shooting through your body like lightening, down to your toes and back up again, settling somewhere near your core.

“Yes I am, darlin’, for better or worse.” He finally unwraps his arms from around you and lets you go. The sudden feeling of loss is so powerful, all you want is to be back in those arms again. He steps into the hotel room and you follow like a lost puppy, all thoughts of leaving vanish into thin air. “I know you, don’t I? We’ve met before.” It’s not a question.

“No…never,” you shake your head. “Believe me, I’d remember meeting you.” You can’t help the wolfish smile that transforms your face, your cheeks tinting pink, the dirty thoughts in your head surely readable on your face.

He laughs again, eyes sparkling and amused. He hums in thought a minute, eyes narrowed and concentrating on your face, biting his pouty bottom lip. He shakes his head, black hair flopping slightly over his forehead.

“I know you. I’m certain of it. I never forget a face. Y/N…Y/N. I just can’t….I can’t remember from where,” he insists. “It’ll come to me later, when I’m not so tired. Been a helluva day. Been a helluva couple weeks, actually.” You don’t argue the point, it’s not important. He stifles a yawn as he moves to the couch, grabbing an acoustic guitar on the way, and plopping down unceremoniously. He rests the guitar on his knees and leans his head back on the couch, his tan neck exposed and inviting - you feel your stomach flip flop at the thought of your mouth on his skin there, sucking and biting, and a shiver runs through you. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, long lashes dusting his cheeks, before popping open when he realizes you haven’t followed him to the couch.

“Well sit down, darlin’. Don’t hover over me like a bird that can’t settle.” He’s teasing you, the irritation he projects only put on. He watches as you sit down on the opposite end of the couch, desperate to be near him again but wanting to keep a clear head as much as possible. Satisfied to finally have you fixed on the couch with him, even if it’s not as close as he’d like, he starts strumming on his guitar, playing a pretty little tune you’ve never heard before.

A thrill runs through you and a thought pops into your head. You want him to sing to you. And only to you. You’d hoped the opportunity might arise but you hadn’t planned on it. But here it was, presenting itself to you. You wonder if it’s too much to ask of him, this man who sings for a living, who gives his heart and soul to the audience he loves so much. Who has been running ragged with rehearsals and filming. But this is your chance, you may never get another one. You scoot a little closer to him and one side of his mouth curves into a smile without looking up at you as he finishes the song he’s playing.

“Elvis,” you say, a little hesitantly. He looks at you expectantly, his beautiful face a combination of soft little boy and strong masculine features. “Would you…will you…?” You stop, embarrassed. You’re not sure why this is such a hard thing to ask. It feels too intimate, too personal. His eyes are curious now, fixed on you, and you see heat behind them. It’s hard to breath, knowing that he’s thinking at least some of the same things you are.

“Go on,” he murmurs, biting his bottom lip. "Whatcha wanna ask me, Y/N?"

You cut your eyes down, unable to meet his as you mumble out quickly, "Will you sing for me?" You hold your breath as you wait for his answer. You're not expecting him to laugh. But he does and it fills you up again, because it's genuine and sweet. You look at him and see that he’s surprised and pleased that you asked, boyish grin on his face, like he just wants to make you happy.

"You want me to sing to you? Honey, that’s not what I thought you was gonna say. Most women...they...well… they want me to...,” he trails off.

You blush deeply, unable to to keep your thoughts from running rampant. He notices and a slight flush creeps up around his neck, his only tell. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and he starts to strum his guitar again.

“Any special requests?”

You’ve thought about this a lot. Too much in fact. You settled on the perfect song long ago. It was always going to be Can’t Help Falling In Love. The first Elvis song you ever loved. The song you’ve always wanted at your wedding. The song that IS Elvis to you. When you tell him, he rolls his eyes playfully but you can tell he approves of your choice, and he starts to play the chords, fingers moving deftly across the strings. And the earth stops spinning and you stop breathing when he sings the first words and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You can’t help it. It’s the most surreal moment of your life…for an instant you can’t tell if it’s a dream or reality or a mix of both. You start breathing again at some point as the tears fall down your cheeks but you don’t care because this is it. This is something you’ll carry with you forever. And this moment is just for you. Only for you.

You try and wipe your tears away discreetly but he chooses that moment to look at you, as the song ends, and you can tell it does something to him, the fact that you’re so moved by him, by this experience. There’s something different about you that Elvis can’t quite put his finger on. You’re bold and confident yet shy and unsure - all at the same time. You carry yourself differently and speak differently and look different from other women. You’re unlike any other woman he’s ever known, and he barely knows you. Part of him sent you to this hotel room because he wanted to be with you tonight but part of him wanted to figure out just why you were so intriguing, such a study in contradiction. And now here you were, sweetly requesting he sing you a song. Most women were only interested in sex, practically throwing themselves on him the moment they were alone with him, asking him to take their virginity, among other things. The fact that you didn’t puts him off balance and makes him want to tread carefully, treat you tenderly. Plus, he’s certain he knows you from somewhere and he’s not sure why you’re denying it but he aims to find out.

You take this opportunity to inch closer to him on the couch. He opens his arm for you to snuggle into as he sets his guitar down. You hesitate just a moment, suddenly shy. Trembling, you scoot close as he envelopes you into his side and pulls you in. You’re practically on his lap as you settle against his warm chest, his heartbeat thumping softly in your ear.

He tucks you in tighter and rests his chin against the top of your head. It’s so cozy in his arms, with his chest rising and falling steadily, your breath and his combining into the same rhythm. Your eyes are heavy, you’re so tired from the events of the day and you know you should be making the most of this time with Elvis but you just can’t seem to keep your eyes open. You blink heavily again and sigh, trying to stay awake. You feel Elvis yawn against your head and you bring a hand up to his chest, running your fingers through the soft hair there before grabbing a handful of his shirt, holding onto him as if he’s a life raft on an open sea. It’s here, snuggled up with Elvis Presley, that you fall into the best sleep of your life.

—

You open your eyes into darkness. You’re freezing cold and you struggle to breathe as you sit up. Your head is as light as a feather again and your heart is pounding, tears springing to your eyes. Oh no, oh no, no no no no no, you think. Not yet, I didn’t get enough time. You don’t realize that you’re speaking out loud as you begin to cry, softly at first and then harder, your heart squeezing with pain.

“Honey?” Someone says in the darkness. “What’s wrong?” Elvis. At the sound of his voice you begin to cry in earnest, relieved you hadn’t lost him, that you still had more time. A soft light flickers on somewhere in the room.

“Hey, hey, hey, little one, don’t cry, don’t cry.” Elvis moves across the bed and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and rocking you back and forth. He strokes your hair as you cry into him, clinging to him. He makes gentle shushing noises and rubs your back and kisses you tenderly on the forehead, but he lets you cry it out. Slowly your tears subside and you take a shuddering breath. Once again, Elvis has comforted you as you fell apart. What must he think of you?

“You wanna tell me what’s got you all worked up, little one?” He speaks into your hair as he holds you to him. You’re still coming down from being so upset, taking in unsteady breaths. A hand squeezes your shoulder, encouraging you, letting you know it’s ok, whatever you have to say.

“I thought…I thought I was alone. That you’d gone and…I was scared,” you finish lamely, trying to get away with a half-truth.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, not convinced but not wanting to push you further. His fingers gently grip your chin and tilt your face up towards his.

You can see the glint of his azure eyes, the outline of his features, the white of his teeth and he smiles as he leans his forehead into yours.

“Ain’t gonna leave you, baby. Not tonight. So you don’t need to worry bout that, ya hear?”

You nod your head, and suddenly your heart rate increases as you realize his mouth is inches from yours. You’re breathing in his warm breath and before you know it, you’re closing the distance between you, finding his mouth, your hand moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s stunned for a fraction of a second before his lips move against yours to return the kiss, urgent and impatient. His delicate tongue slips into your mouth and traces your lips teasingly. His thumb is pulling at the corner of your mouth and you can’t resist breaking the kiss and taking it between your teeth, running your tongue over it and sucking so hard he hisses. You’re still sitting on his lap and you feel him harden beneath your hip. You kiss him again as his hands find the zipper on the back of your dress and he slowly unzips it, fingers caressing the bare skin that’s exposed, inch by inch. You shiver and feel your nipples stiffen into hard buds, already aroused and needing more. You shift up onto your knees and turn to straddle him, as he lifts your dress up and over your head and tosses it aside. Your nimble fingers move to unbutton his shirt, already halfway undone because he’s Elvis and that just how he wears it, damn him. Your hands slip over his shoulders, smooth and warm beneath your touch, and push his shirt off.

You lean into him and lay your head on his shoulder, your breasts crushed against his bare chest as he wraps his arms around you and holds you there. His fingers are gliding across the skin of your back, tracing shapes and making you shake, as his lips ghost the skin of your neck. Your fingers reach into his hair and gently massage his head, scratching and tugging. His head falls back, heavy in your hands, mouth parted and breaths shallow and every now and again you feel his stomach muscles flex and contract. You tilt your head and lick a stripe along his jawline, tasting his salty skin and repeat it on the other side, his long sideburns tickling your nose. You press wet kisses down his neck and lightly suck and bite at his skin, drawing a strangled moan from him. Elvis’s hands grip your back more tightly and you relish the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin.

His long, delicate fingers find the hard pebbles of your nipples and he twists and tugs and pinches, making you gasp sharply. Then he’s leaning you back slightly and dipping his head to take your nipple into his warm, wet mouth, teasing it with his tongue before sucking it between his teeth and teasing it some more, wrenching desperate moans from your mouth. He pays the same attention to your other breast and it has you almost coming apart from the pleasure of it. You grind down on him, needing some friction to ease the ache between your legs. He lets your nipple go with a pop and slides his hands into your panties, over your ass, as you fall back onto the bed and help him slide them off. You lay there for a moment, just looking at him, your feet planted on his shoulders as he runs his hands up and down your smooth legs. His tan skin is flushed the prettiest pink, black hair messy and falling over his forehead, a look of pure sin on his gorgeous face. It feels like your insides are crashing together, like you can’t get a proper breath, like you’ll die if you don’t fuck him right now. You sit up quickly, suddenly unable to wait any longer, and fumble with the clasp on his pants. He swipes your hand away as he easily undoes it and shoves them down over his hips and off completely.

You straddle him again and grab his cock, pumping it a few times before lining it up with your slick opening, guiding it to the right angle and spreading your lips gently to ease his entrance. He’s panting slightly from the effort of control as he kisses you again deeply, waiting just a moment before he slowly pushes you down onto him, inch by inch. You gasp into his mouth as he fills you, stretches you. You cling to his shoulders, your fingernails digging in and leaving half-moon crescents on his skin. He’s still kissing you to distract you from the pleasure and pain, the stinging that has your tight hole clenched snugly around his considerable size. His tongue finds yours and he sucks on your bottom lip. Just when you think you can’t take any more, he thrusts his hips up as he forces you the rest of the way down onto him, fully impaled. You stop breathing altogether, squeezing your eyes shut, arching your head back, your mouth falling open into a silent cry that never leaves your lips. Elvis’s forehead drops to your shoulder and you vaguely register him clenching and unclenching his jaw. You’ve never felt this full before, never been spread this wide, never felt like you were going to come apart at the seams if he moves just an inch.

“Open you eyes, baby,” you hear him rasp out. You inhale a shallow breath but your eyes remain, literally, screwed shut.

“Come on, look at me,” he coaxes, running a thumb across your eyelid, resting it on your cheek. “I want to see how your eyes look when I’m all the way inside you.”

Your eyes flutter open as you struggle to focus and meet his gaze, his pupils blown wide and his blue eyes now a shade darker. He searches your glassy eyes and finds them much the same, blown out with a hint of wildness. Slowly you adjust around him and start to move up and down, hips undulating, his own thrusting up to meet yours. He grips handfuls of flesh at your hips, so hard you’re sure they’ll leave a mark, and you secretly hope so. You want to be marked by him, claimed in some way, even if only for a brief moment. Sweat is beading in the hollow of his neck and you run your fingers across his chest, through his chest hair, down his shoulders, touching and exploring and kissing. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth again and your hands find his hair as you hold him to your breast as he teases and sucks. Little whimpers leave your throat as the fire grows in your core, bringing you ever closer to the edge. The drag of his velvety hardness inside you is more than you can take and suddenly you’re clenching tightly around him, coming so hard you’re seeing not only stars but a whole galaxy. He groans at the feeling and lets out an “Oh goddamn, honey,” and through your haze you watch as he comes undone, biting into your shoulder as his cock twitches inside you and fills you with his hot seed. You see the vein along the left side of his neck popping out, the one you’ve always noticed appears sometimes when he sings or gets angry. It thrills you to see it in the flesh, knowing you had something to do with it. You place a tender kiss there as the sight of it has you clamping down around him again, milking him through his high.

Elvis falls back against the headboard of the bed and takes you with him, arms wrapping around your back and waist, his cock still buried deep inside you. You nuzzle into his neck, both of you breathing hard, and slightly trembling. You feel him start to giggle but you’re too spent to look at him to figure out why.

“What’s funny?” You whisper as you feel the laughter rumble in his chest, deeper and deeper.

“I was just thinkin’ bout how you nearly ran out on me earlier and I’m awfully glad you didn’t,” he says, “else I wouldn’t have just had one of the best lays of my life.”

You blush and for once are thankful he can’t see you. You don’t know how that could possibly be true but decide to take the compliment and return one his way.

“I’ll do you one better, baby. You are the best lay of my life, Elvis Presley, and god help me if I’m not ruined for other men now,” you say, and mean it. You’ll need all the help you can get if you plan to have a normal life now. Fuck.

-

@meladollsims

[just-shower-thoughts]

The further we get into the 21st century, the less likely it is that Elvis will be discovered working overnights at a rural convenience store.

[stylecouncil]

“And yet the indie crowd and much of the media still slam them. Many critics can’t accept a bridge that unites the seemingly incompatible kingdoms of Morrissey and Bruce Springsteen, and therefore an incredulous, bullying tone follows the Killers everywhere. There’s the implication that frontman Brandon Flowers’ Mormon faith and apparent lack of self-destructive tendencies makes him unfit to rock; it’s the 21st century, dudes have been wearing eyeliner since Elvis, and yet even Pitchfork has called the band’s stage presence “prissy.” Their lyrics are shot full of holes, yet if Animal Collective had come up with “Are we human, or are we dancer?” they’d be hailed as cryptic geniuses. Rarely do the Killers get credit for being one of the few working-class bands with the temerity and talent to achieve populist yet defiantly arty rock stardom at a time when even middle-class musicians with better educations don’t dare dream of transcending the Brooklyn boho ghetto.”

- Barry Walters, SPIN Magazine, Battle Born Review

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Extremley Rare A Beautiful Elvis Presley Unseen Till Now! Studio Promo Publicity Candid Photo Taken In 1963 Love the Red Jacket He's Wearing Here By Designer Sy Devore Man! This Man Had Class On And Off Stage Elvis Presley Was A Trendsetter In Music Fashion And Culture He Was A Cultural Icon From The 20th Century And Even Now! Today In The 21st Century In 2024 And Beyond In The Future.

[roxannepolice]

Again thinking of how it made no sense that Simm!Master needed to dress up because people would recognize him as a former UK PM. That said, I can see a messy haired history nerd trying to convince everyone the hospital janitor is a one day PM from 21st century getting shut down with the eye roll that the cook is Elvis Presley (the cook is in fact Elvis Presley).

[denimbex1986]

'Content Warning: Reference to homophobia and suicide

Music serves a distinct emotional purpose within films, and the song choices in All of Us Strangers are a perfect example of music choice done right. All of Us Strangers is a beautifully tragic film detailing the intimate relationship between protagonists Adam and Harry, who are brought together by the prevailing loneliness and longing they feel for deep connection and affection. The storyline itself is heart-breaking as it is without the addition of music, but the two songs featured prominently as part of the story are undeniably responsible for nurturing a devastating vulnerability in the film’s characters, and eliciting a raw emotional response in its audience. The themes of connection, isolation, and the unsaid in All of Us Strangers would not be anywhere near as impactful without the masterful and purposeful use of historically relevant and politically charged music.

[Warning: there are spoilers ahead!!!]

The first of the two significant, featured songs in All of Us Strangers is Always on My Mind by The Pet Shop Boys. It is a bitter-sweet ballad first sung by Elvis Presley, widely regarded as an apology to his wife after their divorce. The Pet Shop Boys transform this melancholy song into a synth-pop upbeat track, suitable for the dance floor, while also retaining the sorrow of the song’s lyrics. Always on My Mind is used in a pivotal scene roughly half way through the film marking Adam’s true acceptance by his parents. The scene is a reimagining of Christmas with his parents where they are decorating the tree together, as they did when he was a child. His mum turns to him tearfully and sings the lyrics of this song at him, admitting how “maybe [she] didn’t treat [him] quite as good as [she] should” but that she’s so happy he is hers. Using this song for such an emotionally charged scene was a masterful choice by Andrew Haigh because of the unspoken, retrospectiveness of the apology. They do not force an open, 21st century conversation, but portray a quiet moment of vulnerability between a mother and son that is far more impactful. The brilliance of this song choice works on multiple levels: firstly, it was the 1987 Christmas UK number 1 so would have had plenty of air time and so does not feel out of place in this scene, and secondly, The Pet Shop Boys’ musical and performance aesthetics promoted queer visibility, so the song acts as a crucial reminder of the elephant in the room being addressed in a scene where no words are exchanged. Whilst Adam’s mother does not outrightly say, “I’m sorry”, her rendition of these lyrics seems, in Adam’s imagination, the most realistic way to achieve such an apology. We can see how much this moment means to him, and so it is perhaps not right to demand more. The film explores his struggle to heal his childhood trauma and find familial acceptance posthumously, so it is natural that he would seek such acceptance rooted in the memories of his parents that he has. His reimagining of this Christmas scene reflects his still-childlike need for love and approval from his parents, and this vulnerable, discreet rendition of Always On My Mind is, in my opinion, the perfect, most beautiful, way to achieve this.

The second featured, significant song in the film is The Power of Love by Frankie Goes To Hollywood. It is a sombre, melancholic song performed by a hugely influential band in the music scene of 80s Britain, and the movement for gay rights and visibility in Britain. Fronted by an openly gay lead singer, Holly Johnson, Frankie Goes To Hollywood created a distinct moment in which the top of the charts was led by an unapologetically gay band using queer and openly sexual aesthetics, for example fetish gear, that led them to be banned by the BBC for a period of time. Frankie Goes To Hollywood can be credited with successfully representing queerness on a large stage and opening the door for more LGBT artists to achieve commercial success. The significance of The Power of Love being featured in All Of Us Strangers is tragically not made apparent until the end of the film where it is revealed that Harry, Adam’s lover, has been dead the whole time. This revelation makes sense of the reference that Harry makes at the beginning of the film, saying “there’s vampires at my door”. This retrospective epiphany intensifies the already intense sadness that his suicide evokes, because it links his potent loneliness to the uniquely isolating experience of being gay in a heteronormative world. His reference to the vampires at his door is a desperate final call for love and connection, for the kind of devotion and care that Frankie sings about in The Power of Love. The film explores the loneliness associated with being gay through the perspective of an older and younger gay man, detailing the way that culture has shifted in the last 40 years, yet the loneliness still prevails. The final scene of the film is where The Power of Love is heard in its entirety, providing a heart-breaking, intimate contrast to the depths of aloneness that Harry feels in his final moments. We see Adam comforting Harry’s spectral form, providing him with the comfort and love he aches for, and echoing the plea that Harry voices at the beginning of the film. Adam quotes the opening lines of the song, reassuring Harry, “I’ll protect you from the hooded claw, keep the vampires from your door.” We then see the bed get smaller and smaller until they become a star amongst a sparkling sky of stars. This scene is done so beautifully it is, in my experience, impossible not to sob at the intimate and loving conclusion of the tragic events that precede it. The ending is open to interpretation, and does not answer any questions that the film poses about temporality and imagination. How I prefer to deconstruct the ending is through the final image of stars in a vast sky, with The Power of Love playing overhead. It does not matter really whether Adam continues a ghostly relationship with Harry, or whether Adam has been dead all along too. I don’t think we should be concerned with finding the answer to every ambiguity the film fosters, but we should instead sit in the emotion that the film has elicited. In my view, the final scene references the millions of queer relationships across the world that are battling against violent persecution, alienation and isolation, and the queer relationships and individuals who have died before progress has been achieved. Adam and Harry are just one couple amongst that sky of stars, and despite the tragedy of their lives on earth they have managed to find comfort and acceptance in each other’s arms. I think that the final image in the film manifests a hope that all the other stars in this sky will be able to do the same.

Without these two songs, All of Us Strangers would not be able to achieve the emotional vulnerability and deep impact that it unleashes on its viewers. Both songs are part of a rich and important history of queer identity and visibility within British music and culture, serving a beautiful and heart-breaking purpose within the film. They are a reminder of the mostly unacknowledged impact of queer musicians on the British and global music stage, as well as how the fight for queer visibility in mainstream media and culture still prevails today. The film itself adds to and is part of a long history of queer films and the slow growing appreciation and representation of queer love stories in the media. These two songs also serve as a reminder of the significance of music within film to create a distinct emotional response in the viewer, and it must be acknowledged that All of Us Strangers would not be in any way as emotionally devastating if it did not feature the beautiful lyricism of Always on My Mind and The Power of Love.'

[2000s-music-tourney]

Round 1 match ups!

People are strange by the Doors vs Alice's Restaurant Massacree by Arlo Guthrie 

Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul and Mary vs House of the Rising Sun by the Animals

Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison vs Respect by Aretha Franklin

Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash vs Heroin by the Velvet Underground

Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane vs Pinball Wizard by The Who

My Way by Frank Sinatra vs She's not there by the Zombies

Green onions by Booker T. & The M.G.’s vs Georgia on My Mind by Ray Charles 

Return to sender by Elvis Presley vs The Girl From Ipanema by Stan Getz And Joāo Gilberto

Aquarius (Let the Sunshine In) by the 5th Dimension vs Ain't Too Proud for Beggin by the Temptations

Change is gonna come by Sam Cooke vs What a wonderful World by Louis Armstrong 

Come A little bit Closer by Jay and the Americans vs Ain't no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

Don't Rain on My Parade by Barbra Streisand vs Season of the Witch by Donovan

Good vibrations by the Beach Boys vs I'm a Believer by The Monkees

Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell vs Stand by Me by Ben E. King

Cactus tree by Joni Mitchell vs Can't take my eyes off you by Frankie valli

Tainted Love by Gloria Jones vs Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett

Mrs. Robinson By Simon and Garfunkel vs Happy Together by the Turtles

I want you back by The Jackson 5 vs Space Oddity by David Bowie

Spirit in the Sky By Norman Greenbaum vs Son of a Preacher man by Dusty Springfield

This boots are made for walking by Nancy Sinatra vs Eight Miles High by the Byrds

Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells vs Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival 

Maybe This Time by Liza Minnelli vs You really got me by the Kinks

Sitting by the dock of the bay by Otis Redding vs Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues

California Dreamin’ by The Mama's and the Papa's vs You Can't Hurry Love by the Supremes

Like a rolling stone by Bob Dylan vs The Impossible Dream by Jim Nabors 

Complication by the Monks vs Sweet Caroline By Neil Diamond

Suite: Judy Blue Eyes by Cosby, Stills and Nash vs Piece of my Heart By Big Brother and the Holding Company 

White Room by Cream vs 21st Century Schizoid Man By King Crimson 

I Say a Little Prayer by Dionne Warwick vs It's not Unusual by Tom Jones

Be my Baby by the Ronettes vs For What It’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield 

Fire by Arthur Brown vs Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones 

River Deep Mountain High by Ike and Tina Turner vs Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows By Lesley Gore

Blackberry Way by The Move vs Feeling Good by Nina Simone

So Long Mom (A song for World War III) by Tom Lehrer vs All along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix 

Good Times, Bad Times by Led Zeppelin vs Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles 

Dream a Little Dream of Me by Mama Cass vs I Got You (I Feel Good) by James Brown

[blackswaneuroparedux]

There are things known and there are things unknown and in between are the doors.

- Jim Morrison, Letters from Joe

Jim Morrison was an enigma and to this day is considered one of the most influential figures in rock and roll history. Morrison’s music - like him - was revolutionary and influenced some of the greatest musicians, artists, and poets of the 20th and 21st Centuries. A rebel and a nonconformist who took the world by storm, Morrison was mysterious but had no qualms about letting out his glorious wild side for all to see, and he believed that in order to create, one must first destroy, a motto that led him to his premature demise.

Many viewed Morrison as a reckless force of nature and a bad influence (we’re talking parents and concerned grandparents). He actually had an IQ of 149 and developed a profound interest in poetry, devouring the romantic works of William Blake and the contemporary Beat verse of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac while composing his own poems.

Jim Morrison became a legend despite having died at the age of 27, a striking and unique figure who remained in the annals of rock forever. Morrison thus became part of that fateful 27-year-old club that includes his peers Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin. And to which Amy Winehouse or Kurt Cobain would later join in the later decades. Jim Morrison’s death shook the world on 3 July 1971.

There are two different stories behind Jim Morrison’s cause of death. Both of them are tragic. The most commonly told tale involves Jim Morrison going to the cinema in Paris and returning to his apartment to listen to music after dinner and being found dead in a bathtub.  He is said to have died of a heart attack. Chosen to be laid to rest quietly, no proper investigation was performed to find the main cause of Jim Morrison’s death.

Another more harrowing story has received more traction in recent times. It highlights a darker picture of his life, one in which he had died of an overdose and was hauled back to his apartment by drug dealers. Jim Morrison’s final hours are a mystery because France did not require postmortem examination at that time. His girlfriend, Pamela Courson told the police that she had found him dead in the bathtub at about 6 am. She also battled drug addiction and died of a drug overdose three years later.

To many, his death seemed like the result of a downward spiral. Fans knew that Jim Morrison struggled with addiction and fame. After the trial, he was found guilty of profanity and denied the charges. Stardom had taken a toll on Jim Morrison and he tried to find peace in Paris. During his time in the city, he wrote every single day. People thought that he was finally healthy and happy. Some of his last pictures capture a young, fit man. The news of his death shocked everyone even though it was not as surprising. Jim Morrison and Pamela Courson have been accounted for indulging in old habits. They used to frequent Parisian nightclubs, the last thing he did before his death.

Living in Paris one of the first things one does is to make the obligatory visit to Père Lachaise Cemetery where Morrison is buried alongside other iconic artists such as Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, Marcel Proust, Frederic Chopin, Isadora Duncan, Sarah Bernhardt, Maria Callas, Rossini etc. He’s not of my generation obviously but there is no question that the music of my parents generation was way cooler than anything today. That’s just my opinion. Listening to The Doors seemed like the perfect sound track to a misspent youth in boarding school.

A musician and a group considered among the most influential and innovative in rock history can never cease to be topical. Jim Morrison with his voice and antics brought drama to rock and roll. If Elvis Presley embodied the rock of a shameless performance if the Beatles and the Beach Boys gave the genre an almost symphonic dimension, and if Bob Dylan transferred more literary content to electric format then Jim Morrison of the Doors took the drama.

The first great attribute of the Doors frontman Jim Morrison was his voice and the charisma of his presence. The man that started shy on stage, with his back to the audience, would become an omnipotent monster, breaking down the limits of performance, even if doped by the effects of acids. With him, rock has never been so dangerous and rebellious, without ever losing the jazz of his voice.

Critics then and today have said that Morrison wasn’t a great singer because he had limited range. It’s true he had a limited range as I don’t think he ever wandered out of his range, which was on the low side. I think Jim Morrison was very shy about singing and didn’t quite know what to do at first … he was a lover of words in the first place, and managed to hear melodies that would be a good vehicle for the words but he sang very carefully at first, careful to enunciate clearly and make his voice heard. I think for him it was more important that the words were heard by the audience than that his voice should sounds cool. Later he started coming on stronger, risking some screams and weird voices, but I think he was more comfortable reciting words rather than singing them.

To me it’s irrelevant if he was technically a good or a bad singer. Morrison had a powerful dramatic voice that connected and a great rock and roll scream. Is there anything more important than those things in rock music?

As I listen more albums by The Doors I am taken in by the hypnotic quality of his speaking voice, which is partially just genetic and partially learned through his involvement in the theatrical arts makes even the most silliest of lyrics sound profound and powerful. Of course he wasn’t an opera singer, or even your typical pop singer - he had wavering tone sometimes, and, especially as his voice deteriorated from substance abuse and other life-style related choices, his range drastically shrunk.

To me Morrison didn’t need to have a pretty voice with the type of stuff he was singing, and his unique style made Robbie Krieger’s conventional pop or folk-rock songs sound deeper, more profound. He was a brilliant all around front-man. He may have frustrated some of his bandmates with his behaviour, and I don’t blame them but we would not be talking about The Doors today if it weren’t for Jim Morrison and his voice. I think as a vocalist he was true to his own natural voice and didn’t try to develop it as an “instrument”. I think it’s the conviction and truth in his voice that makes him easy to listen to.

[ereshkigal0240]

Taylor Swift has now entered the Top 20 best-selling artists of all time (CSPC), becoming the sole representative of 21st-century artists. 1. The Beatles — 423,215,000 2. Michael Jackson — 338,180,000 3. Elvis Presley — 321,042,000 4. Queen — 279,270,000 5. Madonna — 247,803,000 6. The Rolling Stones — 244,151,000 7. Pink Floyd — 238,182,000 8. Frank Sinatra — 229,411,000 9. Elton John — 208,169,000 10. Led Zeppelin — 207,042,000 11. Eminem — 206,224,000 12. AC/DC — 201,639,000 13. U2 — 201,117,000 14. Celine Dion — 199,144,000 15. Rod Stewart — 191,208,000 16. Mariah Carey — 177,084,000 17. Eagles — 176,119,000 18. Eric Clapton — 175,522,000 19. Metallica — 167,314,000 20. Taylor Swift — 164,132,000