#elvis salvation

[flojocabron]

05/09/23: Thrift store media extravaganza! A lot of music cds got donated to the Salvation Army store today. Plus some movies too. A lot of music from the 50s to the 80s were in milk crates. But I ended grabbing these. Some Santana, Doors, David Bowie, ZZ Top, Beatles, Elvis and more. I found dvd series too; three seasons of X-files and others I'm a fan of Bruce Campbell, so picking up his Western Series The Adventures of Brisco County Jr was a no brainer. The previous owner must have liked Westerns. As there was a lot of them. I grabbed a few for me. All together, the lot cost me about $40 plus tax.

[no-144444]

the disgraced pop princess

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summary: oscar is your salvation after things go horribly wrong

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! reader

warnings: TALK OF SA and cyberbullying

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comments

user13: WHAT THE FUCK

user15: This is all her fault. She's a bad person

-> user16: Where did you get that from? An anonymous twitter account?

user14: I AM A CHILD OF DIVORCE

Alexy/l/n: ❤️❤️❤️

CharlesOBrien: the end.

DarrelBowser: fin.

user82: WTF.

user45: how could she ruin this? doesn't she care about the fans?

-> user38: you have no idea what happened? stfu

oscarpiastri: GUYS I'M FREAKING OUT RN WTF.

-> user55: WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

-> logansargeant: he's been a WINGS fan since he was a teenager. He's been in love with Y/n Y/l/n name since he was like 15.

-> landonorris: Can confirm he's having a breakdown rn.

-> alexalbon: It's all too much for little oscar piastri

->zbrown: Zandvoort is fucked isn't it? @/landonorris @/oscarpiastri

-> landonorris: Sadly, yes.

-> oscarpiastri: VERY MUCH SO, YES.

user90: oscar piastri being a WINGS fan was not on my 2024 bingo card tbh.

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BREAKING NEWS! POPULAR MUSIC GROUP ‘WINGS’ HAVE ANNOUNCED THE END OF THEIR WORLD TOUR, AND THEIR BAND! 

Speculation has been flying for weeks due to various sources giving people an inside look into popular music group ‘Wings’. Many fans have been left wondering in recent weeks as the band has been seen arguing on stage, not speaking to each other off-stage, and even some of them have been refusing to go on and perform. Many people have been trying to point fingers to who’s at fault for the end of this historic music group, and  various pieces of evidence against the front woman Y/n Y/l/n, the singer, songwriter, and lead bass guitarist of the group. Many pieces against her have been posted to the popular anonymous twitter account  ‘@/anonymousmail’, detailing how she has been treating the rest of the band badly, by not letting them write their own music, becoming too controlling over the band, and even going as far as to threaten other members of the band. 

Late last night after their last of 5 shows in Las Vegas at the historical Westgate Las Vegas Resort & Casino, where rock and roll legend, Elvis Presley played for years, the front woman Y/n Y/l/n posted a photo of her hugging her brother (and fellow band member), Alex Y/l/n with the caption ‘the end of it all. 12 year old me is crying. so is 22 year old me. bye for now and ever.’. On stage, they announced they were parting ways and were all in tears as they left. 

This looks like the end for the group, and this publication is sad to see them go. We wish them all good luck, and we will keep our readers posted on any drama from the unravelling group. 

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BREAKING NEWS! ‘WINGS’ LEAD GUITARIST SPEAKS OUT AGAINST Y/N Y/L/N!

In a new-deleted instagram story, the lead guitarist of the band called out Y/n Y/l/n with this statement 

‘Good f*****g riddance to that b***h . F******g fame-hungry c**t who could never sing for s**t. Good f**k tho’

This left fans shocked, as Y/l/n has said in the past that they were ‘all friends and would always respect each other, even if the band broke up’ (2021 interview with Vogue). Many people have shipped the two online due to their flirty stage-presence and good banter in interviews, but they always vehemently denied the claims that they were together. In other shocking news, it seems the rest of the band Charles O’Brien (lead guitarist), Alex Y/l/n (new lead singer, ‘Wings’ second guitarist), Darrel Brown (drummer), and Axel Smith (new bass guitarist) will be continuing on with ‘Wings’ as this was posted to the band social media account just days after their announced split. 

Y/n Y/l/n has refused to comment and all her social media accounts have gone dark. We’ll keep you updated!

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comments

user12: ZAK BROWN IS WILDIN

user59: HE GETS US, BRING BACK THE REAL WINGS

landonorris: bro plz don't jump wtf

alexalbon: we're here for you buddy :)

logansargeant: he's crying in my driver's room rn. he's unconsolable.

-> user90: bro is DOWN BAD.

mclaren: Please don't crash the car Oscar. We'll bribe you.

-> user47: this is insane.

User58: hey so you're crazy.

georgerussel: We're here for you mate :(

lewishamilton: Missing WINGS rn.

user83: i feel bad that oscar just found out his celebrity crush is a bad person :(

-> user33: phone down. NOW. it's an anonymous twitter account with no credibility.

user55: what Charles said about her was mental.

-> oscarpiastri: AGREED. I ALWAYS HATED HIM.

-> landonorris: PUBLIC ACCOUNT.

-> WINGSfanno1: ur right, my b. AGREED. I ALWAYS HATED HIM.

-> user88: no way oscar piastri has a WINGS fan account 🤣🤣🤣

hater66: I hate Y/n, oscar should too.

hater36: she's a slut and an awful person.

hater22: Y/N Y/L/N HATE CLUB!

->hater82: me too!

->hater100: me too!

->hater3792: me too!

->hater38: me too!

->hater202: me too!

->hater26: me too!

->hater77: me too!

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BREAKING NEWS! Y/N Y/L/N IS SET TO BE ATTENDING THE DUTCH GRAN PRIX THIS WEEKEND!

According to anonymous sources, Y/n Y/l/n will be attending the Dutch Gran Prix this weekend. This comes as a shock since she's deactivated her instagram, most likely due to the break-up of her band. The rest of WINGS will also be in attendance, all as guest of McLaren, whereas Y/n is a guest of Sir. Lewis Hamilton, in the Mercedes garage. They have been seen in public recently and have been sparking dating rumours, despite their age difference. Many fans are now speculating that another reason the band broke up is the supposed cheating rumours. Y/l/n was apparently dating lead guitarist Charles O'Brien, but cheated on him with 7 time World Champion, Lewis Hamilton. Their paparazzi photos certainly seem to paint a picture...

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You woke up puffy-eyed and angry. 3 days ago, you were on tour living your life to the fullest, singing and touring with your best friends, and your chosen family. At least, that's what you thought they were. It turns out they'd all been trying to get you out of the band that you started, for a couple of months now. They'd been lying to the press about you, making every little thing you did seem worse than it was, and your 'best friend' Charles O'Brien decided it was time to get you drunk enough to sleep with him.

You felt used. Every time you four went in for a record session, a new contract, a new show, you were told that you were the only reason the band was famous. You were the real talent.You were the moneymaker. You always brushed it off, telling them that you were so good, because the band was so good. You didn't give a fuck about people telling you to get out before they swindled you and felt you in the dirt. Now you wished you had listened. Now you wished you hadn't seen so blind to their blatant disregard for you. Now you wished you'd broken off from them years ago, even your brother.

Charles had been the backbone of getting you out, that you knew. He'd always hated how you got credit for making the band popular, when it really was you who made the band popular. It had been your idea to start a youtube channel at 12 years old, it had been your idea to enter your schools battle of the bands at 13 years old, and it was you who took the risk and trusted a manager for the first time, even going as far as being the only one to sign the contract, so they could always get out of it. You'd always been so considerate, so protective, so blind.

Today was the Dutch Gran Prix, and Lewis had decided it would be best for you to get out of the hotel room you'd been rotting in and come visit him for the race. You'd been to Gran Prix's before, but mostly when you were younger and not in the middle of a world tour, like you had been for the past year and a half. You left your room looking better than you had in days, you'd done your makeup, worn your favourite outfit, and you'd finally stopped crying. Small victories, right? You hadn't checked social media in days, you knew what you'd find, and you didn't want to know what everyone thought of you. You just wanted it all to stop.

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liked by nicolepiastri, charlesobrien and 772,922 more.

comments

alexalbon: Ok this is becoming pathetic now

-> logansargeant: YOU ONLY THINK IT'S PATHETIC NOW?

georgerussel: Poor kid :(

maxverstappen: 🤣🤣🤣🤣

danielriccardo: I'll swing by with some food. We can cry together brother

-> oscarpiastri: the only real one on the grid 💔💔💔 love you daniel

-> logansargeant: mate I held you when you cried last night.

-> oscarpiastri: and you're still complaining about it. Daniel doesn't complain.

nicolepiastri: Kids these days...

hattiepiastri: please take his phone away from him @/logansargeant, I can't handle anymore embarrassment.

-> logansargeant: I'm trying, I promise.

user67: can we talk about zak brown, wtf?

-> zbrown: he's too sexy to die (and crash my car)??? what don't u get????

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As you walked into the paddock beside Lewis, you felt the cameras on you. He was trying to shield you, but it wasn't exactly working.

"Y/n, how do you feel about what Charles said about you?!" "Y/n, are you and Lewis together? Did you cheat on Charles?"

What? How could you cheat on Charles when you weren't even dating him? That made no fucking sense. He'd assaulted you. You were going through the motions of suing him. How could anyone think you'd willingly have sex with the boy you'd seen as a brother for the past 22 years of your life?

"Follow me," Lewis whispered, leading you further away from the McLaren garage. "Don't worry about them, they're not going to talk to you."

You nodded, trying to put on a brave face as he led you to the Mercedes garage. You were used to the paddock, Lewis had known you since you were a young teenager embarking on your first tour with a new record deal, he'd shown you around as you stood nervous, just trying to do everything right, make yourself and the band look good. He gave you an important piece of advice that day.

"You don't need to worry about the cameras or the press, be yourself and the rest will come naturally."

A piece of advice you'd followed through your teenage years, and now into your 20's. You were scared again, but this time, you were alone. No band behind you, your brother wasn't there to protect you, and everyone hated you, for no good reason.

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As you sat down in the paddock, Toto gave you a look of pity.

"How's my favourite popstar?" He smirked, trying to cheer you up.

"Disgraced," you groaned, and leaned your head against his shoulder. Mercedes had been like a second family to you, you'd met everyone back when you were 14, just about to start a tour after a song you posted online went viral. Your first stop was Silverstone, playing for so many people made you want to run and hide instead of play, but Lewis and Toto had helped you out, calmed you down, and you'd smashed it. It skyrocketed your fame, and got you an extended record deal.

He sighed. "Not for long. Don't let the boys win, it's always a boy's world."

You chuckled. "Thanks Toto."

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Oscar jogged out of the McLaren garage as WINGS walked in. Logan had promised to let him stay at Williams if the band were too much for him, and he'd just had to listen to Charles O'Brien talk to his race engineer about how it was to fuck you. He felt sick to his stomach, and he didn't have anything else to do ahead of today, so off he went.

"Oscar!" Lewis's voice rung out and Oscar stopped in his tracks, turning to see where it was coming from. "Come here!"

Oscar walked over, confused by the sentiment. Lewis and Oscar didn't often speak before races. He walked over all the same, and there you were. Standing beside him looking gorgeous and flawless, and he knew he was fucked.

"Hi, I'm Y/n," you held out your hand to be shaken, and he did so with vigour, almost squeezing too hard.

"I'm Oscar," he smiled, then dropped your hand.

"See, I am a miracle worker," Logan's voice appeared out of nowhere, and Oscar whipped his head around to see him smirking. "I'm Logan," he introduced himself to you with a handshake which you reciprocated. "Oscar is basically in love with you and your music-"

"Mate!" Oscar tried to cover his mouth, but Logan was already in a laughing fit, as Lewis laughed with him. "I am so sorry about him, he's-"

"It's alright," you smiled. "It's honestly just nice to know that not every WINGS fan hates me now."

He frowned. "I'm really sorry about the break, it must've been awful."

You shrugged. "It was what was best for the band."

"I seriously doubt that. You were like, more than half the reason anyone ever listened," he chuckled. "You're amazing."

You felt yourself heat up. "Thank you. I think you're a pretty amazing driver."

"You watch F1?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, Lewis would kill me if I didn't," you chuckled. "It's also just really interesting, and congratulations on being like, the best rookie of all time."

He blushed and smiled. "Thank you."

You heard a camera snap and the small moment you two were having was ruined. Lewis and Logan had left you two to chat, and obviously now it looked... strange to say the least.

"God, I'd better go, sorry. You probably don't want to be seen with me-"

"I'd rather formulate my own opinion on you, rather than listen to what everyone else is saying. Do you want to go for a walk?"

You smiled, a real, genuine smile. "Yeah, that'd be lovely."

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"So... how are you?" he asked as you walked through the crowds of people.

"I'm alright," you answered hesitantly. "Charles isn't making anything easy."

Oscar sighed. "He's definitely not an easy person to be around."

"You met him?"

"For about 5 minutes before I had to leave so I wouldn't punch him," he chuckled.

You laughed. "He's good at first impressions."

"Evidently," Oscar smirked.

"Yeah it just sucks that he aired all that shit out y'know? It's just... so unfair, especially when the court case is still being pieced together by our lawyers-"

"Wait, what? What do you mean 'court case'?"

"I'm suing him, he assaulted me," you shrugged.

"Holy shit, I'm so sorry," he stopped and took your hand. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

You stopped for a moment. In the last 72 hours, no one had apologised, no one had checked in, and no one had been so heartbroken for you. Did he have to be perfect?

"T-thank you," you sniffled. "I'd better go, it was nice to meet you, b-bye Oscar."

Oscar was left standing outside Ferrari as you walked off to the Mercedes garage. He felt awful, no one should have that happen to them, and you were so sweet and kind, he almost couldn't believe someone would take advantage of that. He knew one thing though, he needed to see you again.

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comments

hater56: why is lewis still hanging out with her....

hater52: LEWIS RUN

hater79: lewis get away from the slut plz

oscarpiastri: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

-> lewishamilton: out of my comment section now.

-> y/nyl/n: stfu lewis

hater67: how is she still famous?

alexalbon: PLZ LET HER SWING BY WILLIAMS

-> logansargeant: I SECOND THIS ^^^^^

-> y/ny/l/n: omw rn

-> oscarpiastri: same. (just a conincidence)

-> logansargeant: 🧐🧐🧐

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comments

hater77: she's so annoying, why does he like her?

-> oscarpiastri: girl. have you seen or meet her? THAT'S WHY

user66: This is insane.

alexalbon: nurse he's out again! -> logansargeant: he's scoping out Williams to find her. come back soon plzzzz

lewishamilton: it was embarrassing...

georgerussell: good luck with keeping away from you @/y/ny/l/n !

-> y/ny/l/n: 👍👍👍👍

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Oscar walked into Williams with one objective, to see you. He needed to talk to you again. As he was searching, he finally bumped into you.

"You found me," you smiled.

"I did," he smiled. "And I was wondering if you'd want to talk more."

"Well, right now I have to get to Mercedes," you explained and he deflated slightly. "But I can give you my number and we can get dinner sometime?"

He was elated.

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Months of texting and dating, healing with Oscar, getting into the studio, and finally, your next single was ready. It was called 'Labyrinth', and it was about how Oscar had turned everything around for you. He was perfect. Kind, a gentleman, funny, sweet, everything. You loved him. He loved you.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[elvisabutler]

one night of sin

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( priest au ) x female reader word count: 3003 warnings: priest kink. religious talk. cheating ( reader is technically cheating on her boyfriend ). minor implications/ideas of entrapment. minor breeding mention ( like blink and you miss it ). cum swallowing. boot riding. oral ( male receiving ). an obscene amount of the words father presley used. elvis ia a catholic in this because that's my specific flavor of priest. improper confessional. author’s note: welcome to day 15 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, religious kink/priest kink with 68/69 era priest elvis presley x reader. so. long time no see? i got no excuse but to simply explain that when you need the us government to go fast, it'll go slow as molasses in january in yellowknife but when you need it to maybe go a little slower you end up concluding what has been a nearly 5 year long adventure in less than two months. america y'all. BUT. i'm back with a new shift, a sleeping pattern that enables me to not pass out every hour and a priest fic for the smut summer ( that's now just smut last half of the year ) to tide y'all over while i finish up spark and other shenanigans. pick your poison the elvis though to be honest.

"A woman like you should know better," Father Presley murmurs in your ear as he pulls you in for a hug. Unlike most Fathers the congregation has had, he's always been more of a tactile person. He's always joked that it came from his Pentecostal upbringing even as other there were always titters about how it came from actually being a Baptist. Father Presley would turn the other cheek though, a true sign of how he was a good godly man. A man who truly was meant for the cloth.

Yet, your body craves him, and you desire to be on your knees, praying to God and him for salvation. The Lord wouldn't allow the devil to tempt you so viciously with Father Presley. There had to be some good in this temptation. There had to be a plan you were yet to be privy to, but perhaps perhaps the Father might be.

"What did you mean by a woman like me?" You ask after the service legs crossed at the ankles in a plush chair, long after you should have left to spend time with your significant other. He was a boyfriend you had been steady with since college, and yet neither of you had decided to marry. Neither of you had decided to walk down that aisle despite both of your parents insisting on the union. You ought to be spending time with him, but more and more, you found yourself in the rectory with Father Presely discussing any number of topics. He was intellectually stimulating in a way those around you weren't, and you found yourself drawn like a moth to a flame to Father Presley's light.

Father Presley looks up from the papers he had been scribbling on, and you feel a shudder pass through you at the heat in his gaze. The Father shouldn't be looking at you like that. Your boyfriend barely looks at you like that, and yet here the Father was with eyes that set a fire ablaze inside you and underneath your skin. A part of you wants to hang your head in shame, to hide your face as if the Father is stripping your purity with every second he looks at you. If you were being honest with yourself- he already had been. A woman like you should know better than to fantasize about the man who God chose to lead the congregation you're a part of. You always found yourself in the late night hours before bed or the early morning hours before daylight, wondering how his plush lips would feel against your neck, sucking marks on your skin. You wondered how the occasional beard he grew would feel between your thighs and against your most intimate parts. Against your will your thighs clench at the thoughts that float unbidden to the forefront of your mind.

His eyes dart down to your clenched thighs and you see his nostrils flare before he speaks. "A woman who believes in God and who cares about how he sees her. You should know better than to fall for tricks the devil puts in front of you."

Tricks. The word feels like a joke bouncing about your head once it leaves his lips. Was that Father Presley confessing to you that he wasn't a force of good in the world? That he was sent by the devil himself to tempt young women such as yourself to the side of the dark. No, no, Father Presley wasn't that sort of man. Maybe he wasn't perfect but he loves God so much and the mere idea sends a shiver down your spine and through to your soul.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you swallow. "And what sort of tricks are those, Father?"

If you weren't paying attention to his face, you'd miss how his jaw clenches and miss how his hand tightens on a paper he's holding. You are paying attention. Rapt attention as you always do for Father Presley and you can't help the smile that crosses your lips. He may not be sent by the devil to tempt young women but maybe you were sent to tempt him. And it appears that it might be working. You're playing with fire though, hellfire and damnation you could joke but but something in the way Father Presley stands up from his desk and makes his way to the front of it has you willing to risk even more.

"You ain't naive, lil one," his voice is pitched so low you almost don't hear him but the words are there, just barely. "You're so innocent, so pure n' righteous but I know ya. Ya ain't the least bit naive. Ya know better than this."

To play with hellfire like this. Perhaps that was the point, perhaps you knew better and yet you also knew this was what you wanted. You wanted to see how far you could push Father Presley, you wanted to see if he would finally break and join you in having a mind swirling off and on with images of the two of you entwined together. Lips pressing against one another and against every body part. Your clit throbs at the memory of your dream from last night.

With a shaky exhale, you try to respond with something witty and charming and expected. "I'm only a woman, Father Presley. I- I'm not- I'm not as innocent as I once was."

You watch as something shifts in Father Presley at your words, how his jaw tenses and he finally moves the front of his desk to right in front of you. He's always been a bit taller than you, than most of the congregation, and yet you've never realized how overpowering that simple height difference could be. You've never quite realized how his broad shoulders and thick arms could cage you in with an ease until you found yourself in the position. Your breath comes in short pants as you swear Father Presley steals them from your chest. His eyes roam across your body, beginning at your open mouth, gliding down your neck and chest and down, down, down until he stops at your thighs.

The thighs that are clenched together so tightly he reckons you'd be able to form a diamond out of coal from the pressure. He can hear the whispers of the Lord telling him he shouldn't do anything. That this is a test the Lord wants him to pass. Yet the longer he looks at you, the longer he sees your chest rise and fall with shallow breaths of desire the louder the voice of the Devil is in his ear becomes. You want this, you need this. You deserve this for being such a pious young woman. You weren't like some other girls who thought they could throw themselves at him, no, you stayed pure and so very inviting for him.

He moves a hand to under your chin, grasping it lightly in an effort to have you look at him. His words leave his mouth in a murmur. "Have ya done somethin' ya need to confess?"

A burning fire rolls through his veins at the idea, threatening to envelop the two of you in hellfire from the Lord smiting you where you both sit. He watches as you open your mouth to speak only to have something akin to a low whine leave your lips. "Lil one, I asked you a question. Have ya done-"

The words are cut off by your answer, a measured response where you drag the words out. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

He's heard so many people say those words through tears and with husky breaths yet the way you say it has him needing his own confession. The way your eyes look up at him with desire and pure unadulterated need have him exhaling heavily. "When was your last confession?"

It was last week, he knows because you were always so dutiful in admitting when you had done wrong. The glint he sees in your eyes tells him you hadn't admitted this before, hadn't dreamed of putting this sin into words for him and for the Lord. That devilish voice becomes just a bit deeper, a bit more pronounced.

"Last week. But- Father, I- I've been keeping this a secret. From you and the Lord." Your voice shakes even as your gaze on Father Presley is steady. "I've- I've-"

"It's alright, lil one, this- this ain't any different than the other times you've confessed, you can jus' see me now. The Lord is forgiving if you're truly repentant, darlin'. are you?" His thumb brushes against your chin and it occurs to him that if he moved it just enough he could run his thumb over your lower lip, could coax them open like he was going to feed you a wafer. "Tell me what it is."

"I've thought of you sexually." You whisper quickly and quietly, your face and body heating up as if you've caught it on fire. Is this the Lord smiting you for finally admitting what you've done? Putting into actual words your desires and wants? "I've touched myself to the thought of you, Father. Touched between my legs and cried out for you to help me."

It's not that you mean to utter such filth so quickly and with such fervor but the more the fire burns within you the more you can't help it. Father Presley's gaze is unwavering even as his jaw tightens more and more with each passing word. You swear you see his eyes becoming hooded, a dangerous glint forming as his pupils start to widen and his nostrils flare. Against your better judgment, your hand sneaks up to his jaw.

"Don't," he growls, his grip on your chin tightening as he does. "Don't touch me like that. You- you know better."

The cracks that had always been there, miniscule as they were are widening with every second the two of you are in this room. His clerical collar is choking him, tightening like a vice grip the longer your hand stays on his jaw.

"Father Presley. Forgive me, but I want to. And I think you-" Stopping yourself, you take a deep breath. "I'll repent if I can just have one time with you."

A moment is all you have to regret the words that come out of your mouth before he backs away from you like he's been burned. Shame runs through your body infecting every inch of you as you start to get up, ready to run from the room. Hiding would be an acceptable alternative than seeing the look on his face become one of pure disappointment and distaste. So busy with the thoughts in your head, you don't realize that he's moved back in front of you until his hands grab your hips.

"One night," he commands with a tone that offers no questioning. The tone he uses at the pulpit, the one that forces everyone in the church to hang on to every single word that passes by his lips. A shiver runs through your body as you start to drop to your knees despite the way he tries to keep you from doing so. "Don't- Get back up here."

A head shake is the only response he gets as your hands move to the front of his slacks, shaking as you fumble with the button and the zipper. His cock is warm to the touch and firm as your brush against it and you wonder how it's supposed to cool the fire between your legs. If anything you worry it'll stroke it even higher and higher until it burns the two of you to ash and takes the church down with you. You've gone far to back down and once his pants are finally undone, his cock springs from its confines. He hadn't worn underwear, his bare cock had been so close and yet so far from you. You've never seen one before, not up close and personal but you know from the way his thighs tighten there's something different, something that makes him nervous as you lick your lips, admiring the head of his cock trying to peek out from the skin that surrounds it like a casing.

As your hand moves to grasp at his cock, Elvis grabs your wrist and holds it tight for a moment. "It's different, I know, lil one. But-"

If the ache between your legs didn't make you want to cry from sheer desire and if you had something to truly compare it to, you're certain you would have wanted to defend Father Presley's cock, tell him that you haven't seen anything more beautiful in all your years of living. Instead you allow yourself a tentative lick, looking up through your eyelashes to see Father Presley's head lean back, eyes looking up as if to pray for salvation.

His hand drops your wrist and moves to your shoulder, clenching and holding on for dear life as you play with the slit, unsure of how to move the skin around. You mouth at his cock, spreading your spit and his not small amount of precum around it. Noises you've only ever dreamed of ripping from his mouth exit in an unending stream as his hand moves to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you off as much as he can, even as your teeth graze at his cock. "Darlin' you- You gotta move up the skin, let 'im in your mouth fully."

His grip loosens the moment your hand slides his foreskin up and without missing a beat your mouth is back on him, tongue playing with the slit of his penis, and trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. What you can't get into your mouth, your hand grasps, trying to make sure every moment of this is something you can remember all those nights when you won't have this, won't have him. A hand makes it way to your hair and you whine around his cock, wanting him to do something with it. The chuckle he lets out, low and practically devilish is all the warning you get before his hand yanks at the ends of your hair. If your mouth wasn't full, you're certain you'd have cried out as you grind against the floor. As it is, he still hears you, still understands what he's done and yanks again, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.

"Takin' me so well, such a good woman. Saved your mouth and everything just for me, haven't ya? Been achin' wit' no relief from that boyfriend of yours. Jus' wanted a forbidden fruit like Eve, didn't ya?" He knows the words he's saying don't make sense, that it's murmured and muttered as he focuses on the warm heat of your mouth and the feel of your tongue against his cock and tracing the veins. "Lord's pushed us too far. Couldn't- Shoulda- Been wanting to taste ya for too long. Needed ya for too long."

He shouldn't admit this, shouldn't tell you these things but it's as if the devil himself has taken over his body and filled his mouth with every sinful thought he's had of the two of you. Your thighs clench and he moves his foot in between them, trying to give you something to grind down on proper. And grind down you do, whimpering and groaning around his cock, almost seeming to bounce as you chase a release while bringing him to his own.

"Devil put us in front of each other- tempted us till we broke but this- we'll get it outta our systems. Gonna forget all 'bout this after tonight. No one but us and the Lord'll know. Won't have anythin' to 'member tonight wit'."

You nod, even as your mind tells you that's not what you want. Even as your mind tells you that you want to remember this and that you want to beg him to give you something to remember this by. That's not what you're supposed to do, what either one of you are supposed to do and yet it doesn't stop the desire and need you have for it. It doesn't stop your mind from picturing a life past tonight with him as his grip tightens once more when he yanks and your clit brushes against the toe of his shoe. You feel your orgasm slam through you at that simple brush, already overstimulated and aching and you worry you're going to stain the carpet or the leather of his shoes but looking up, you realize he won't care.

"Gonna have ya swallow, lil one. Gonna be good for ya," he groans, even as his minds supplies an image of your face and hair painted with his cum. At another drag of your teeth along the underside of his cock, your mouth fills with the salty tang of his cum. Your mouth fills with it and you have to force yourself to start to swallow quickly to avoid choking. Your eyes burn from the effort but it slows quicker than you expect, leaving you exhaling through your nose heavily and inhaling the full musk of his pubic hair. His grip on your neck is the first thing you feel as you start to come back to yourself and you let him pull you off his cock, opening your mouth when you feel his thumb against your lower lip.

"Didn't waste a drop," he whispers, patting at your neck and motioning for you to stand up. Your legs are shaky but he helps, even as you fall against his chest, so warm and inviting.

"Father-" You start to speak only to be silenced by a finger to your lips as he starts to walk both of you back to his desk.

"For tonight, it's Elvis. Let me take care of you."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour @butlersxbirdy, @precious-lil-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @doll-elvis, @whatstruthgottodowithit. i literally think i used spark's last tag list. lord help me i don't even know.

[hooked-on-elvis]

"And The Grass Won't Pay No Mind" (1969)

Written by Neil Diamond, Elvis recorded the song during the American Sound Studio sessions in Memphis, Tennessee, on February 17, 1969. It was released on October 14, 1969 on Presley's double-album From Vegas To Memphis/From Memphis To Vegas, on the "Back In Memphis" LP.

MUSICIANS ON THIS TRACK: Guitar: Reggie Young, Elvis Presley. Bass: Tommy Cogbill. Drums: Gene Chrisman. Piano: Bobby Wood, Elvis Presley, Ronnie. Organ: Bobby Emmons. Harmonica: Ed Kollis. Trumpet: R.F.Taylor, Wayne Jackson, Dick Steff. Sax & Trombone: Jackie Thomas. Sax: Glen Spreen, J.P. Luper. Trombone: Jackie Thomas, Jack Hale, Gerald Richardson. French Horn: Tony Cason, Joe D'Gerolamo. Vocals: Elvis Presley, Mary (Jeannie) Green, Donna Thatcher, Susan Pilkington, Mary Holladay, Dolores Edgin, Hurshel Wiginton, Joe Babcock, Millie Kirkham, Sonja Montgomery. elvisthemusic.com

Here's the original Neil Diamond recording, released on April 4, 1969 on the album Brother Love's Travelling Salvation Show.

OTHER VERSIONS

Mark Lindsay released his version of "And The Grass Won't Pay No Mind" on his Silver Bird album, in 1970.

[marinas-drafts]

I imagine a (really) quick tour basically consisting of Elvis going there's the kitchen, you know the outside, I'll give you a proper tour later lil girl and ushering her up the stairs to a guest room. Where Gigi ofc would get teary eyed and insist on "being with you and taking care of you Daddy".

So they head to his bedroom and he excuses himself to the bathroom only for her to get anxious / worried about idk a grunt or something she hears and she barges in. Look, it's Gigi the girl who has no boundaries in that respect I think anyway. So, she finds him mid-enema and just moves to help (sorry? Can probably be glossed!). He ofc is Very Hesitant and Shooked she's this… Doing this… Being his salvation when he's utterly exhausted and worn out from the day's events.

Gigi just does the things necessary, gets a damp cloth to wipe his sweaty face and sideburns and no she does not at all REVEL in the fact that she gets to do this and care for him and shower him with the affection we all know he deserves.

Once they settle into getting ready for bed Elvis is shocked again by her insistence in either a) sleeping neckid or b) being the bigger spoon cause she knows he's tired and can't handle pressure on his stomach right now. Actually probably B. As she soothes him to sleep, he murmurs to her that he "I'll get even with you Little" or whatever sounds good and drifts off. Gigi is left with all these feelings running through her of needing to take care of E and simultaneously needing to feel him Everywhere.

Hope this helps!

I AM ACTUALLY GOING TO PASS AWAY FROM THE FEELING OF BEING SO SEEN.

It’s like you read my most harbored wants for this chapter but I thought no one else would want to explore the less fluffy aspects of caretaking and then BAM -there’s you with this. Oh gosh, this is very emboldening, thanks babe. …and being the big spoon! I need to be his little jet pack and let his the back of his head rest on big tittys and have him be cradled by arms that can barely reach around his bulk. 🤧

[septembersghost]

Rules: pick a song for each letter of your URL and tag that many people.

tagged by @wickedhawtwexler, thank you!!! ❤🥰 i took these from songs that were upcoming on shuffle in my playlist, which was fun!

salvation - gabrielle aplin

erase me - lizzy mcalpine

psychedelic switch - carly rae jepsen

there's a ghost - fleurie

elvis song - maisie peters

moonlight serenade - ella fitzgerald

bells in santa fe - halsey

embraceable you - frank sinatra

rhiannon - fleetwood mac

star maps - aly & aj

ghost towns - radical face

hold me like a grudge - fall out boy

outta time - orville peck

since we're alone - niall horan

try to remember - harry belafonte

no pressure tags!: @thebohemianbelle, @joons @saulwexler, @ab4eva, @jennifersbod, @freakwiththeknifecollection, @takeawaythepain, @aurastiel @maddenedbythesstars, @isitcasualnow, @the-castle-ruins, @desireearmfeldt, @kendalroys, @wildeyedsapphic, @nerdfaerie, and if anyone else would like to do this and hasn't! 😘

[cy-gogglin]

Welcome to Johnny Cash’s world of whiskey, sin and lyrical doom

Johnny Cash is a Mount Rushmore figure in American music. He had a voice as deep and ancient as the wellspring from which his folk and country heritage sprang, and a face that might well have been carved from a mountainside. Across seven extraordinary decades as a recording artist, from his debut single Hey Porter (1955) to his 67th and final album American IV: The Man Comes Around (2002), Cash wrestled with love, hate, crime, punishment, forgiveness, redemption, death and salvation. He was the God-loving sinner who could deliver his most famous line, “I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die”, with the same conviction he brought to a gospel spiritual.

“I have a feeling for human nature in difficult situations – don’t know why, but I always have,” Cash told me during an interview in 2003, the year before he died at the age of 71. We spoke via a transatlantic phone call, and I can still recall the thrill of hearing him come on the line with the four words he’d uttered at thousands of concerts: “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.” That famous gravel voice was instantly recognisable, if a little shaky with age. When I asked him whether, looking back over his long life, he had any regrets, he laughed. “None that I’d really like to publicise. I don’t cry in my beer – or milk, for that matter.”

Cash was then in the midst of a late-career flourish, releasing a series of stripped-back albums produced by Rick Rubin. More than just a coda to a rollercoaster career, the American series framed Cash as an immensely complex figure, embodying and embracing the many contradictions of being human. “Truth is what ties it all together,” he told me of his vast recorded output, almost all of it featuring sparse productions that made no concessions to fads. “I never thought about doing it any other way except the simple, straightforward bare-bones way that felt right in the beginning. It carries my message in the song without a lot of adornment. I try to keep it down to earth – play it as it lays and say it as it is.”

Standing 6’ 2”, and with an incomparable gravitas, Cash was a big man in every sense of the word, and it takes a big book to do him justice. The Life in Lyrics is a proper doorstopper, a large-format hardback of 374 pages that weighs in at 4.5 lbs. Structured partly chronologically and partly thematically, it attempts to tell a life story in songs and pictures, packed with 125 lyrics – from the 600-plus Cash composed – plus hundreds of photographs, handwritten letters and memorabilia from his personal archive.

Cash with his son John Carter Cash in the mid-1970s - White Rabbit

The photos are glorious. In shots from 1969, a year in which Cash saw off the challenge of Elvis Presley, The Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel to be named the biggest-selling recording artist in America, his hands are bony and rough-skinned, testament to a poor childhood spent picking cotton and fights. His face looks whip-thin and dust-blown, brow deeply furrowed, eyes sunken and haunted. Those were his wild, mean days of amphetamines and whiskey. “I always thought somebody was trailing me,” he told me in 2002. It may have been the ghost of his beloved older brother Jack, who died, aged 12, in a horrific chainsaw accident. “I probably never did get over it,” Cash admitted.

But he certainly worked through it. Among the classic songs that Cash composed, and are reproduced here, were the deathless romantic ballad I Walk the Line, the bitter confessional Folsom Prison Blues, the epic Big River, the tragicomic flood narrative Five Feet High and Rising, the careworn lament Don’t Take Your Guns to Town, and the stark protest song All of God’s Children Ain’t Free. At their best, Cash’s lyrics are carefully wrought, with the basic structures and rhyming schemes of folk poetry underpinned by rough-hewn wisdom, sharp observation and quick wit. His signature song, The Man in Black, from 1971, remains an enduringly powerful statement of empathy for his fellow man: “I wear black for the poor and beaten-down / Living on the hopeless hungry side of town.” 

These songs were written to be sung, however, and in The Life in Lyrics, without that inimitable voice to sustain them, their essential simplicity can appear trite. The accompanying text, written by authorised Cash biographer Mark Stiepler with dewy-eyed contributions from Cash’s son John Carter Cash, is informative but hagiographic, with a tendency to exaggerate achievements and gloss over failings. Cash’s brave 1969 anti-Vietnam war song, Route 1, Box 144, which describes a dead American soldier being returned to his family, may offer genuinely touching commentary, but is it really “the greatest argument for peace ever devised”?

There’s also an unfortunate tendency to brush over or excuse the darker elements of Cash’s life, the drug addictions, infidelities and appalling behaviour – despite the fact that these gave his music so much depth. The 1964 hit Understand Your Man is a song of spectacular bitterness directed at his soon-to-be ex-wife Valerie while he was already having an affair with future wife June Carter, yet it warrants only a brief, glib paragraph. I could have done with fewer stories about the deeply pious impulses behind Cash’s gospel hymns, and more tales about, say, the time he smashed every crystal chandelier in a hotel lobby in a drug-fuelled rage over his amorous rejection by a friend’s widow. The Man in Black accepted the darkness within him: it’s a disservice to try to whitewash his image now.

As well as being a songwriter, Cash was an interpreter who could make a song completely his own, but this aspect of his art is inevitably missing from a book of his lyrics, so there’s no commentary on such Cash hits as Ring of Fire, A Boy Named Sue, The Ballad of Ira Hayes, Highwayman or his definitive cover of Hurt (originally by the industrial metal group Nine Inch Nails). We do, however, learn of the genesis of one of his last and finest songs, the mysterious, apocalyptic The Man Comes Around. Composed in 2000, it was apparently inspired by a dream about Queen Elizabeth II, who told him: “Johnny Cash, you’re like a thorn tree in a whirlwind.”

In the last song Cash wrote, Like the 309, he imagined being carried away by a heavenly train, and viewed it with anticipatory relish: “Take me to the depot, put me to bed / Blow an electric fan on my gnarly old head.” As we reach the end of this mighty book, with the cumulative impact of Cash’s sincere words, the photos of his creased face changing over the years, his clear and consistent love for June and family and, indeed, his fellow man, the final pages become incredibly moving. Blind and weakened, Cash awaits his inevitable end, still embracing life with humour and pathos. 

When I spoke to him that day, he was stoically suffering ill health, and in such constant pain that, having kicked his pill addiction, he was required to take painkillers just to function. Yet, when I asked what was the best advice he had ever received, he didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t sleep with your whiskey bottle by the bed,” he said, laughing deep and low. “That’s a piece of advice that has probably kept me alive this long.”

Johnny Cash: The Life in Lyrics is published by White Rabbit

Story by Neil McCormick || The Telegraph

[darlinhutchence]

Michael Hutchence INXS B-Sides, Bonus Tracks, + Rarities

Aside from INXS albums, Max Q, and Michael's posthumous solo album (1999), here are INXS demos featuring Michael's vocals and some solo rarities.

INXS - Telefone (1979) - Breakaway (1979) - Simple Simon (1980) - We Are the Vegetables (1980) - Scratch (1980) - Lacavocal (1981) - Space Shuttle (1982) - Here Comes II (1982) - Long in Tooth (1982) possibly Andrew, unsure - Move On (1987) - Move On (Guitar Version) (1987) - Do Wot You Do (1987) - Different World (1987) - Jesus Was a Man (1987) - The Trap (1987) - Everybody Wants U Tonight (1990) - Salvation Jane (1990) - Deepest Red (1990) - Shining Star (1991) - It Ain't Easy (1992) - The Answer (1992) - The Indian Song (1992) - Tight (1992) - Heaven Sent Waltz version (1992) - it's beautiful, trust me - Born to Be Wild - Steppenwolf cover (1994) - Keep the Peace (1994) - Deliver Me (1994) - Bang the Drum (1996) or Hangin' On (1996) - Laugh/Cry (1996) - Coming Up (1996) - Nothing's Free (1996) - Get it Right (1996) - Tuesday Weld (1996) - Waiting to Be Free (1996) - Let it Ride (1996)

Michael Hutchence (Solo) - Speed Kills (1981) - Forest Theme (1982) - Jackson ft. Jenny Morris (1985) - Sex Symbol backing vocals - Flame Fortune (1985) - Jungle Boy backing vocals - Flame Fortune (1985) - Dogs in Space (1986) - Golf Course (1986) - The Green Dragon - spoken (1986) - Rooms for the Memory (1986) - Take You Higher - Noiseworks (1992) - Red Hill (1993) - Under My Thumb (1994) - Baby Let's Play House - Elvis Cover (1994) - The Passenger (1995) - Spill the Wine - Barb Wire Soundtrack (1996) - The King is Gone (1996) - Friction - Standing on a Rooftop - Let the People Talk - Kick it Around (became One Way) - Be a Giver - Save My Life - Temptation - snippet - Nail It - snippet Michael Hutchence Filmography - Dogs in Space (1986) - Frankenstein Unbound (1990) - Limp (1999)

[nakedmusicscore]

Teenagers praying for Elvis Presley. After Reverend Gray said Elvis Presley had "achieved a new low in spiritual degeneracy," teenagers in front rows lead Trinity Baptist church in praying that salvation be granted him. August 1956, Jacksonville, Florida.

I'm betting most of those girls were praying for Elvis to get inside their panties!

[tomorrowedblog]

Friday Releases for November 3

Friday is the busiest day of the week for new releases, so we've decided to collect them all in one place. Friday Releases for November 3 include Divinity, Invincible S2, Blanket, and more.

Divinity

Divinity, the new movie from Eddie Alcazar, is out today.

DIVINITY centers on two mysterious brothers, who abduct a mogul during his quest for immortality. Meanwhile, a seductive woman helps them launch a journey of self-discovery.

Quiz Lady

Quiz Lady, the new movie from Jessica Yu, is out today.

“Quiz Lady” is a hilarious and heartfelt comedy starring Awkwafina, Sandra Oh, Jason Schwartzman, Holland Taylor, Tony Hale, and Will Ferrell, about a dysfunctional family and the game show which just might be the key to their salvation. In the original film, a brilliant but tightly wound, gameshow-obsessed young woman, Anne, and her estranged, train-wreck of a sister Jenny, must work together to help cover their mother’s gambling debts. When Anne’s beloved dog is kidnapped, they set out on a wild, cross-country trek to get the cash the only way they know how: by turning Anne into a bona-fide gameshow champion.

Showdown At The Grand

Showdown At The Grand, the new movie from Orson Oblowitz, is out today.

A proud movie theater honors action star turned recluse “Claude Luc Hallyday” with a retrospective of his illustrious career but when real estate developers show up to ruin the party, the two new friends must fight off corporate greed in the name of art.

Fingernails

Fingernails, the new movie from Christos Nikou, is out today.

Anna and Ryan have found true love. It’s been proven by a controversial new technology. There’s just one problem: Anna still isn’t sure. Then she takes a position at a love testing institute, and meets Amir.

Priscilla

Priscilla, the new movie from Sofia Coppola, is out today.

When teenage Priscilla Beaulieu meets Elvis Presley at a party, the man who is already a meteoric rock-and-roll superstar becomes someone entirely unexpected in private moments: a thrilling crush, an ally in loneliness, a gentle best friend.

Rumble Through The Dark

Rumble Through The Dark, the new movie from Graham Phillips and Parker Phillips, is out today.

Golden Globe nominee Aaron Eckhart stars as a desperate, bare-knuckle cage fighter battling for the only thing he has left in Rumble Through The Dark, a riveting action thriller based on Michael Farris Smith’s celebrated novel The Fighter. Bella Thorne shines alongside Eckhart in this gripping film about one man’s last-ditch effort to save his family home against the strongest of foes and the longest of odds.

Helen’s Dead

Helen’s Dead, the new movie from K. Asher Levin, is out today.

Upon discovering her boyfriend, Adam (EMILE HIRSCH), is sleeping with her cousin Helen (MATILDA LUTZ), the aimless Addie (DYLAN GELULA) goes to a dinner party to confront them, only to discover Helen is dead and everyone is a suspect. From “canceled” influencer Leila (ANNABELLE DEXTER-JONES) to her shady, older husband George (BRIAN HUSKEY), to wannabe actor Garrett (OLIVER COOPER), and even her own lover/ex-con Henry (TYRESE GIBSON), Addie must find Helen’s killer before it’s too late.

Squealer

Squealer, the new movie from Andy Armstrong, is out today.

Tyrese Gibson (Fast and the Furious) and Theo Rossi (Sons of Anarchy) star in a terrifying thriller inspired by real events. When young women begin to disappear across a small town, a police officer and a street-smart social worker follow clues to a remote pig farm and discover the local butcher has been bringing his work home. Enter the world of a serial killer and experience the blood-curdling horror of a film bound to take your breath away.

All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt

All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt, the new movie from Raven Jackson, is out today.

A lyrical, decades-spanning exploration across a woman’s life in Mississippi, the feature debut from award-winning poet, photographer and filmmaker Raven Jackson is a haunting and richly layered portrait, a beautiful ode to the generations of people and places that shape us.

Invincible S2

The second season of Invincible, the TV series from Robert Kirkman, is out today.

Based on the groundbreaking comic book by Robert Kirkman, Cory Walker, and Ryan Ottley, the story revolves around 18-year-old Mark Grayson, who’s just like every other guy his age—except his father is (or was) the most powerful superhero on the planet. Still reeling from Nolan’s betrayal in Season 1, Mark struggles to rebuild his life as he faces a host of new threats, all while battling his greatest fear - that he might become his father without even knowing it.

Blue Eye Samurai

Blue Eye Samurai, the new TV series from Michael Green and Amber Noizumi, is out today.

Driven by a dream of revenge against those who made her an outcast in Edo-period Japan, a young warrior cuts a bloody path toward her destiny.

The Tailor S3

The third season of The Tailor, the TV series from Cem Karci, Rana Mamatlıoğlu, and Bekir Baran Sıtkı, is out today.

Peyami’s feelings for Esvet intensify, forcing him to make the difficult choice between their love and his lifelong friendship with Dimitri.

Fashion Dreamer

Fashion Dreamer, the new game from Marvelous (XSEED), is out today.

Fashion Dreamer is a creative-focused game where players can express their unique styles using their avatar, called a Muse. Create iconic looks from cozy casualwear to chic couture, choosing from hundreds of available options that can be customized to be a truly one-of-a-kind look. Once players find their signature style, they can show off their latest outfits across different areas, called Cocoons. There, they can also explore inspiring new fashions from other Muses whether playing on- or offline or display them in their showroom to garner even more attention and Likes for their brand. Players can also increase their influence by completing design challenges, unlocking even more customization options to elevate their brand. Featuring asynchronous multiplayer, the world of Eve is inhabited by Muses from around the globe, allowing players to find inspiration or earn Likes for their most iconic fit virtually anywhere!

WarioWare: Move It!

WarioWare: Move It!, the new game from Nintendo, is out today.

Pack your bags for the wackiest vacation ever in WarioWare: Move It! Get ready for movement-based microgames, Forms, extra stages, local multiplayer, and more!

Blanket

Blanket, the new album from Kevin Abstract, is out today.

Flying High, Pt. 2

Flying High, Pt. 2, the new album from The Alchemist, is out today.

[sheetmusiclibrarypdf]

Remembering Jimi Hendrix (1942-1970), born on this day

Remembering Jimi Hendrix (1942-1970), born on this day.Jimi HendrixJimi Hendrix: a painful childhood, an extraordinary talent and the deadly cocktail that included him in the 27 Club.Best Sheet Music download from our Library.Please, subscribe to our Library.A life marked by success and excessHis lovesA violent side and tragic endingLaden Sie die besten Noten aus unserer Bibliothek herunter.The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Voodoo Child (Slight Return) (Live In Maui, 1970)Jimi Hendrix, Like A Rolling Stone LiveBrowse in the Library:

Remembering Jimi Hendrix (1942-1970), born on this day.

Jimi Hendrix

Jimi Hendrix: a painful childhood, an extraordinary talent and the deadly cocktail that included him in the 27 Club. The guitarist who managed to become one of the most influential figures in Rock and Roll in four years, lived his first years of life in a violent environment, under the care of alcoholic parents who could not cover his basic needs. The arrival of music as his salvation and the path to his tragic destiny. Few artists manage to revolutionize their art like Jimi Hendrix did with his electric guitar. His unique style, which combined a technique achieved by his self-taught learning and inexhaustible creativity, broke with everything established at his time. In his hands, the guitar found new expressions. Hendrix played with distortion, feedback and other unexplored territories. His playing, considered an extension of his free spirit, electrified audiences with high-energy solos and theatricality that could include playing with his teeth or behind his head. Although his professional career lasted only four glorious years, he managed to seal his name in history in that short time. Jimi Hendrix is ​​considered one of the most influential musicians and guitarists in rock history. Johnny Allen Hendrix , as he was registered at birth, came into the world on November 27, 1942 in Seattle, in the midst of World War II and a deeply segregated society. Son of Lucille Jeter, a 17-year-old teenager, and James Allen Hendrix, known as “Al”, his childhood was marked by poverty and family instability. His father was drafted into the army three days after the wedding and did not meet Jimi until he was three years old. He was the eldest of five siblings, Leon, Joseph, Kathy and Pamela. The problems between their parents were generated by a lack of resources, since they could not find permanent employment, and were aggravated by alcohol consumption and domestic violence . Due to the tenor of the fights, little Jimi hid inside a closet, according to his stories. In that dark time it was common for them to move all the time, for Jimi to be sent to his grandmother's house in Vancouver and for his brother Leon to go in and out of foster homes. The three younger siblings were eventually put up for adoption by their parents. The youngest, Pamela, was months old. Jimi was 9. Together with his brother Leon, they remained in the custody of their father. Six years later, his mother Lucille lost her life to cirrhosis. Life had been merciless to Jimi from the beginning.

At the age of 15 he got his first guitar, which had a single string, and he quickly made it his inseparable companion. It was a ukulele that he rescued when a woman was throwing it into a container. From that instrument he got his first notes inspired by rock and roll figures such as Little Richard, Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley. Months later he got his first acoustic guitar for $5, with which he played for hours and learned to play by ear. Hendrix never learned to read music. His fascination and innate talent set him apart from the beginning, although his energetic and experimental style was not always well received in his first attempts to play in public.

His father gave him the electric guitar in mid-'59. The acoustic guitar was barely heard among the other instruments when he formed his first band called The Veltones. In November 1961 , the future star was 'discovered' by a fellow soldier, Billy Cox , while playing guitar at an Army club. Intrigued by his ability, Cox joined Hendrix in a musical jam, marking the beginning of a collaboration that would lead to the two playing clubs on the military base on weekends. This stage of Hendrix's life took place while he was serving in the United States Army, which he joined to avoid a prison sentence for driving stolen cars. Hendrix entered the Army on May 31, 1961, after being arrested twice before turning 19. After completing eight weeks of basic training at Fort Ord, California , he was assigned to the 101st Airborne Division - a division of elite air assault - and moved to Fort Campbell, Kentucky . In a letter to his father, the young man described his experience as a period of intense physical training, harassment and highly demanding.

During his time at Fort Campbell, the musician asked his father to send him his guitar, a red Silvertone Danelectro , which he had left at his girlfriend's house in Seattle. The guitar, on which he had written “Betty Jean,” became his obsession, which led him to neglect his chores. This behavior caused his classmates to make fun of him and hide his guitar from him to listen to his pleas. Despite completing his paratrooper training and receiving the Paratroopers' Eagle Badge on January 11, 1962, Hendrix's behavior began to worry his superiors. He was described as an unskilled marksman and was caught sleeping on duty. On May 24, 1962, his platoon leader, James C. Spears , wrote a report stating that Hendrix showed no interest in the Army and recommended his departure. Now free of obligations, in Tennessee , in the 1960s, Hendrix began to forge his musical career on the circuit known as the Chitlin' Circuit , a key space for African-American musicians of the time. In September 1963 he moved to Clarksville with Billy Cox , where they formed the band King Kasuals . In Nashville , the band found a home on musical Jefferson Street , the epicenter of the black community and rhythm and blues in the city. There, the guitarist perfected his style and techniques, to the point of playing the guitar with his teeth, a trick that he had observed in other musicians and that he adopted so as not to be overshadowed. “The idea to do it came to me... in Tennessee. There you have to know how to play with your teeth or they will shoot you,” Hendrix once said. After years playing on the “Chitlin' Circuit,” a group of venues dedicated to African-American music, the guitarist traveled to New York in search of new opportunities. There, he met Chas Chandler , former bassist for The Animals, who recognized his talent and convinced him to move to England. It was in “Swinging London” where Jimi found an audience willing to appreciate his innovative style. With his band, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, he captivated musicians and audiences alike, leaving even giants like Eric Clapton in awe of his skill. His debut single, Hey Joe , and his album Are You Experienced catapulted him to stardom and cemented his place as a key rock figure. A life marked by success and excess Jimi Hendrix's meteoric rise to fame had a strong impact on his personal life. In just four years, between 1966 and 1970, he went from being an unknown musician to becoming one of the most influential guitarists of all time . This transformation came accompanied by big problems. The sudden popularity and dizzying pace of concerts, grueling recordings and world tours put a lot of pressure, previously unknown. So his new life introduced him into a spiral of excesses, which he was unable to control. In May 1966 , Jimi Hendrix was in a difficult stage of his career, trying to stay afloat on the R&B circuit . At one of his performances, he met Linda Keith, one of the women who played key roles in his life. She was the girlfriend of The Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards , who was fascinated by seeing him play. This meeting was an important step on his path to stardom, as she played a key role in introducing him to influential figures in the world of music. When Jimi Hendrix arrived in London in 1966, accompanied by Chas Chandler , the former bassist of The Animals who would become his manager, he found fertile ground for his music. Hendrix quickly earned a place in the music scene. From the first performances with The Jimi Hendrix Experience , made up of bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell , he captivated both the public and his fellow musicians. His debut single “Hey Joe” was a resounding success, climbing to the top of the British charts and the beginning of an extraordinary career.

One of the unforgettable moments of his rise to fame from this period occurred when Eric Clapton , the “God” of the guitar, invited Hendrix to come on stage during a concert by his band Cream. 's “Killing Floor” On that occasion, Hendrix performed Howlin' Wolf with such virtuosity that it left Clapton and the audience speechless. That night he reaffirmed his reputation as a new rock star. Established artists such as The Beatles , The Rolling Stones and Pete Townshend were impressed by his skill and creativity. This recognition within the British musical elite, combined with the commercial success of his debut album Are You Experienced , positioned Hendrix as an icon in Europe and marked his meteoric rise. His loves London also gave him his longest romantic relationship in his short life. This is Kathy Etchingham , an English hairdresser who shared with him the peak years in Europe. Kathy would remember Hendrix as a loving and fun person, capable of tender gestures like buying a toy, a small pony, for a friend's baby when he barely had any money for himself. However, their wild lifestyle, which included long trips, worked against the relationship. In an interview with the British Dick Cave on his famous show, he was seen exhausted by the dizzying pace of life. “I'm quite tired. I'm recording a lot. "I didn't sleep last night because I'm recording an LP," he told the driver in a monotone and lethargic state. The last three years of his life gave him no respite, he said. Casual relationships were rife, mostly with groupies, many of whom claimed to have had children with him. One of the most notorious cases is that of James Sundquist, who was legally recognized as Hendrix's son by a Swedish court in 1975, although his relationship with the guitarist remains a subject of debate. Another supposed daughter, Tamika Hendrix, was not officially recognized, and her mother's attempt to claim a share of the inheritance was rejected in 1972.

A violent side and tragic ending Jimi Hendrix is ​​remembered for his musical talent, but also for his untimely death. In September 1970 , few show business figures were as linked to drug culture as Jimi Hendrix , according to biographer Charles Cross. This bond had intensified since 1967, when Hendrix began using marijuana , hashish , amphetamines and LSD on a regular basis, especially during his tours. Before that year, his drug use had been sporadic. His interest in LSD manifested itself in 1966, in a meeting at Linda Keith 's apartment , when a friend offered him acid. According to the biographer, Hendrix showed “naivety and complete inexperience with psychotropics,” which marked the beginning of his closer relationship with these substances. According to journalist and friend Sharon Lawrence , the guitarist recognized that the consumption of high-proof alcoholic beverages transformed him, leading him to a state of fury that he did not experience otherwise. Even worse when he combined it with other substances and ended up generating episodes of violence, those that had terrified him when he was a defenseless child.

Herbie Worthington , a close friend of Hendrix, once told how the musician, who could be tender and loving, became a completely different person under the influence of alcohol. Worthington claimed that Hendrix simply couldn't handle the alcohol consumption, leading him to behave aggressively. Jimi Hendrix's last days were marked by tension and exhaustion. In August 1970, Hendrix opened Electric Lady Studios in New York, a project of his own that symbolized his desire for creative independence. This innovative facility was the space he had always dreamed of to experiment with his music. However, the constant touring, the media pressure and the wheel that did not stop turning plunged him into a state of physical and emotional exhaustion. In the weeks before his death, Hendrix traveled to Europe to perform a series of concerts. He played at the Isle of Wight Festival , where, despite technical problems and delays, he managed to rock an audience ranging from 300,000 to 600,000 people. His last festival appearance, on the Island of Fehmarn in Germany, was remembered, but not for his talent. The rain and the long waits made the audience lose patience and boo the guitarist before going on stage. In any case, the American once again did magic with his guitar. On September 17, 1970, Hendrix returned to London, where he spent the night accompanied by Monika Dannemann , a German figure skater, his partner at the time. According to Monika, the next morning they shared a simple meal accompanied by wine in their room at the Samarkand hotel. The musician, unable to fall asleep, allegedly swallowed several Vesperax pills, a powerful sleeping pill. The dose, between eight and nine pills, was significantly higher than recommended and, combined with alcohol, was fatal.

The exact circumstances of his death were the subject of numerous speculations and contradictory versions. Monika claimed to have found him unconscious and called for help. Some versions claim that Hendrix was still alive when he arrived at the hospital, while others did not make it, that he died on the way. The official report determined that he died from “inhalation of vomit due to barbiturate poisoning,” that is, he choked on his own vomit. And that would have happened due to the incompetence of the staff who gave him first aid by placing him face up. Hendrix's death, at age 27, added to a series of tragedies of the 27 Club, the select group of stars who lived intensely and dangerously and died at the peak of their careers.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Voodoo Child (Slight Return) (Live In Maui, 1970)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFfnlYbFEiE Live in Maui, 1970 - "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)" by The Jimi Hendrix Experience, withMitch Mitchell on drums and Billy Cox on bass.

Jimi Hendrix, Like A Rolling Stone Live

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amZdiTpvRtY Read the full article

[myastrouniverse]

April/2024🌖♑️Stand off.

🌖▪️ ♂️I need to stay. Please. I really don’t want to move around right now. I need to feel safe and comfortable for as long as I can. I hope I can just stay here until all this shit gets sorted out. Please.

🌖🔺 ♀️Tricking myself into thinking you are alive must mean I NEED a good joke.

🌖▪️ ♆︎ I am scared, alone and without much hope for a future. Yeah, I have to entertain myself with crazy ideas to make me happy. You being alive would make me happy. It’s just a joke on me. All the other jokes on me are bad. I need to laugh.

🌖🔺🦚 I’ve experienced days where I felt like I was in synch and connected to everything. I must have been maybe 15 yrs old? I was walking around the Waterfront. It was a special event. The Green Peace, Rainbow Warrior boat was giving tours. What a treat to walk on board for a bit. The music coming from the Saturday Market. The scent of good food in the air. There was a band playing in front of The Church of Elvis. I was really happy that day. I wasn’t in love with anyone. I was in love with life. I was in love with the city of Portland back then. I felt connected to my community. That was an enlightening experience. That is what it means to feel enlightened. Happy.

🌖< ♅︎ Continuing to force me to be unhappy ALL the fucking time, is only going to fuck things up for EVERYONE. I HATE my parents, but I HATE my Dad especially, because he is such a creepy disgusting ignorant misogynist. I don’t give a fuck what delusions you entertain yourself with. My business isn’t your fucking business you filthy RETARDED ape. Burn in hell. I’m happy to stab you to death if I ever see your stupid fucking animal face. Hopefully you are already dead with your fucking parasite cancer. You have no soul. My forgiveness is not necessary for your salvation. I don’t care if you are crying like a fucking baby. You don’t know WTF pain is, you pathetic piece of narcissistic shit. All I request is that YOU GROW THE FUCK UP, LEAVE ME ALONE AND MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS.

🌖< ♃︎ You wished death upon me, so uh, don’t be surprised if death fucks you up. Death is my bitch. Okay? I AM a ‘Deathly Hollows’ initiate.

🌞 ☸︎ 🦺 The Egyptian meditations are really potent stuff. I think I might hang out in that energy more.

🌖🔺🌞 I don’t have any answers to my questions. I’m always left in the dark. Ignorance is evil, disguised as bliss. Tell me the truth, or I am going to STAY ANGRY. I refuse the comfort of ALL these fucking lies.

Heatmiser - Still

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Magician's Nephew" - C. S. Lewis

[elvisabutler]

watch the smoke pour out the doors

summary: elvis presley, the real elvis presley, not whatever they like claiming is the man should be dead. at the very least he should be looking about two decades older than the man in front of you. and yet. elvis presley wishes the las vegas hilton- formerly the international- was a pile of rubble or ash. he enlists your help after a chance meeting. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) | austin butler rating: m pairing: elvis presley x female reader word count: 8012 warnings: major character death! choking. stalking behavior. the colonel being the worst. being trapped in one place. general depression. elvis is an asshole in this. fade to back sex ( p in v ). kind of yandere elvis? blood. vampire bites and general vampire shenanigans. mention of burn scars. fire in relation to buildings. excessive use of nicknames like lil bunny and spitfire. author’s note: heed that first warning y'all. this does not have a happy ending. i've had this brewing since september/october of last year and it's partially based on @venus-haze's vampire elvis headcanons seen here. so what really stuck with me in her comment about the fact that she took "I’ve been playing this mausoleum for 1,000 years" and ran with it. i took bits and bobs from her headcanons and ta da. also the fire i reference happening in 1981 did actually happen. i hope y'all like this even if this ending is a doozy. y'all know the drill real elvis or austin elvis can be imagined- if the moodboard didn't clue you in. also for musical vibes i have literally only ever really truly listened to meant to be yours from the heathers musical. also i did not add a tag list because this is- this is a fic and i was not about to make any of y'all tumble into it without wanting to.

Las Vegas is hot and is so sun filled that you hate it. You've always hated it but that might not have been the city's fault. Once upon a time you thought it would be your salvation but isn't that always the joke with everyone when it comes to the city. The salvation away from LA, because if you fail there Las Vegas will welcome you with open arms and remind you that what happens there stays there. It keeps you from going back to Memphis with your tail between your legs and being forced to tell your parents that you failed at your big dream. The dream that they supported you on but always figured you'd fail at. Your job pays the bills and you keep your clothes on, which considering the amount of bills you have, well that was a feat for you to achieve.

Working the front desk at the Las Vegas Hilton was challenging, mostly due to the customers with their requests that occasionally bordered on silly and nonsensical but you could handle it. It was nothing too horrible and there was certain pleasure in learning that you managed to pull off keeping some of the higher class- the celebrity clients happy. Of course, nights like this- busy nights with half your staff gone because of any number of problems- made you want to set fire to the building so that you didn't have to deal with this job. Your boss has you running around in what you swear is every direction until she physically stops you with her hands, gripping your shoulders and forcing you to stay put for just a minute.

"Elvis wants a delivery to his room." She says, her face twisting into one of sheer displeasure.

You raise your eyebrow and shake your head. "You mean the Elvis impersonator up in the penthouse. Why does everyone insist on calling him Elvis? We all know it's not him him- like-" The look she gives you is one you've realized means you need to shut up right in that exact moment because if you didn't you were liable to get yourself in a whole lot of trouble so you swallow the rest of your sentence and roll your eyes. "Got it, me and penthouse and his delivery of whatever to his room. Got it."

Your boss mouths a quick thank you before pointing to the kitchen area. It doesn't take you very long to reach there despite your heels and aching feet but it does take the kitchen staff a minute to realize you're standing there all gussied up ready to take whatever it is Mr. Presley wants. What he wants is apparently a feast befitting of a king- heh- and more packs of cigars than you thought one human being capable of smoking in any reasonable time frame but you remember those pictures of him back in the day. The pictures you'd see in your parents' house, in your grandparents' house of him smoking something. Maybe it was just someone who was honestly committed to the bit even if it meant wrecking their lungs and their voice. Once you actually manage to get everything, it's a surprisingly quick walk to the elevator and to the penthouse. For once your heels don't wobble as they have an annoying tendency to do so when you get this much stuff needing to be carried and you easily make it to the door of the penthouse and knock only to realize that your series of knocks have made the door open all on its own.

The room itself is dark, the curtains drawn so not even the light of the strip finds its way into it. It feels not like a tomb, you reason, with the temperature reaching levels that feel almost as if you've entered one. The cold wraps around you and has you shivering in your light blouse and work pants as you look for a free space, a table really to set down the items he requested. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the lack of light but you manage to avoid hitting anything and set the tray onto what you're mostly positive is a table- be it an end table or an actual dining table. You straighten up after you set it down and something feels off to you, feels as if you're being watched. That can't be though, yes Elvis- or whoever it's supposed to be up here had requested the items but that didn't mean they were stalking you from the dark.

Except the feeling doesn't go away and you know so very well that you ought to move, that you should get out of the room and back downstairs where it's busy and you don't feel the faint sensation of worrying that you'll be murdered. You don't though, it's as if your feet are firmly planted in that spot, like you want to see just why you're feeling this particular way. After what feels like an eternity you feel the air around you shift, a small gust of warmth pass by your back and that is the cue for your body to finally turn around. What you see when you turn around shocks you to your very core and makes you think you've got to be hallucinating.

It's like you've seen a ghost when you realize who you're staring at in the darkness of the room. There's always been whispers that Elvis is actually still alive, that he's alive and the person who's been recording the music and performing shows was still him. After all, despite so much information about his relationship with his manager coming out there was no lawsuit coming from the family and that had to mean he was alive. Looking at the man in front of you, looking at the parts you can see of his face that aren't obscured by a half mask over his face- you think they might be right just not in the way everyone assumed. After all, if you take off the mask, the man in front of you looks like he hasn't aged a day since about 1972 or maybe 1974.

Your parents had pictures of him plastered among the walls of your childhood home so you're familiar with the shape of his jaw, his nose and those eyes- those stunning blue eyes. You're familiar with all the facial features that make up one Elvis Presley and seeing them up close and personal as opposed to on stage? There's no mistaking who's in front of you. It's Elvis fucking Presley in the flesh, looking nowhere near the almost 60 he should be. His eyes though- the eyes you're looking at are just as stunning as the blue ones you've always heard about but you can see a hint of what looks like red in the pupil. It confuses you enough to have you moving closer to him to investigate. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head.

"That's new. Most of ya jus' hide and run away like scared cats." He huffs, allowing you to step closer and peer at his eyes.

"Do I seem like most people, Elvis?" You ask, you accent thickening as your hand against your will finds its way to his mask-covered cheek in an effort to pull him closer, only to have him practically snarl at you and grab your wrist.

"Do that and I'll rip your throat out with my teeth." His warning is accompanied by his eyes narrowing and his canines finding themselves on full display, showing you just how dangerous he could be. Yet, you find yourself raising your own eyebrows.

"Ya mean like you've done with a lot of my former coworkers?" It's suddenly making sense, how a lot of the times girls who went up here wouldn't come back and would suddenly have family emergencies. "Ya said it yourself, most of us jus' hide and run away. Do I look scared?"

The laugh that leaves his mouth sounds downright evil and sinister, like he truly is a devil waiting to ruin anyone who comes near him and you can't help the rush of arousal and fear that shudders through your system. His grip tightens on your wrist. "Oh, darlin'. Ya don't look it but that heart o' yours. Oh, she's betrayin' ya like nothin' else. Tellin' me you want to bolt like a lil scared bunny."

You hate how you swear you can feel your heart jump at those words, proving him right in the worst sort of way. You want to argue with him, want to tell him that his hearing must be going off and he's hearing someone else's heartbeat but you know better- you know from the glint you see in his eyes that there isn't a chance for that lie to fly. Instead you purse your lips and move to pull your wrist out of his grasp. "I haven't yet. And ya haven't tried to kill me yet."

His grip loosens but he takes the opportunity to pull you closer just enough so when he leans forward his lips are brushing your ear as his whisper is practically a short brush of air against it. "Yet." Finally, he lets go of your wrist and steps away from you, his eyes darting to the tray you brought. "All in one piece. You are better than the rest of 'em."

If anyone else were to say that, if you had heard it from an Elvis that looked the age he was supposed to be and didn't look like Dracula you might have preened, enjoying the compliment for what it was. Hearing it from him? Hearing it from a man who you feel will murder you the second you turn your back? All that accomplishes is making you shiver in fear. When you look at his face you see a grin that tells you that's exactly what he wanted to see.

You realize in that moment that you need to leave, you don't know if Elvis is planning on trying to hurt you or if he's just toying with you. Either way it's- it sets you on edge enough that your feet that had seemingly forgotten how to move manage to remember how as you turn away from Elvis, not bothering to give him a response beyond what your body had already inadvertently done.

"There we go, there's that runnin' I'm used to." Elvis chuckles, allowing you to move further away from him slowly inching to the door. "Even if ya practically movin' slow as molasses. Scared but bein' smart 'bout it, ain't cha?"

An answer dances on the tip of your tongue, a joke or a quip about how you'd be a fool to turn your back on a predator or to bolt from a predator. Either way you'd be seen as his prey and arguably easy prey at that. The answer dies on your lips as you feel a rush of air by you and see Elvis opening and holding the door to his room open for you. His grin looks full of promise and is all teeth in a way that sets you on edge.

"Go on, darlin', I'll let ya go. Ain't like I can't find ya 'round here." His eyes rake over your form and you'd think you'd be disgusted as you normally are when someone looks at you like that. Instead you have to suppress the shiver of something that passes through you. "'Specially if ya do that."

You don't dignify his words with a response as you exit hearing some whisper of the word fun and a dark laugh. If the speed of your steps increase once the door shuts. Well, that was your own business between you and whatever God saw fit to abandon you just a bit ago.

As it turns out Elvis is a very persistent man- a fact not tempered and instead heightened by the years he's lived. True to his word, he did know exactly where to find you though actually meeting up with you seemed to be beyond his reach. No, instead you found yourself being bombarded with gifts. Gifts you'd think Elvis couldn't provide and yet there they were. You wondered just how he was getting these things to you but the thought didn't fill you with any sort of delight so you chose not to dwell. It all comes to a head when before your shift one night there was a new outfit on your doorstep. A simple red blouse with a black pinstripe skirt. That in and of itself wouldn't be a problem and yet the true issue was the note.

Took a guess on your size, lil Bunny. You can tell me if I'm right tonight after my show.

It is your size and you have idea how he could tell that let alone how he knew these were your favorite colors and that you favored pinstripes for your dresswear. If you dwell on it for too long some sense of fear and flattered feelings settle deep within your stomach.

The only reason you wear the outfit is because every other work appropriate outfit you have is currently in the wash. A fact that is true purely due to your own laziness and is something you want to curse yourself for. You consider actually going to the show, entirely aware that you could but you're loath to give him the satisfaction. Instead you wait until around the time the show ends to make your way to his room utilizing your ability to have extra keys of rooms to make your way inside. He's not there yet so you sit in a chair and wait in the dark. Dramatic, yes, but you figure it seemed fitting given the circumstances. Perhaps he might even respect the flourish of it, the flourish of you waiting for his own dramatic person in the dark as if he couldn't rip your throat out in an instant.

You almost doze off waiting for him but when he finally arrives he opens his door with a sigh, completely ignoring you before he walks slowly over to you, silent as a church mouse. He opens his mouth to say something as his teeth glitter in the light of the strip coming from the window but you cut him off.

"Is this all supposed to charm me?" A simple question but one that has him chuckling lowly as you try and get up only to be stopped by his hand on your shoulder.

"It working?" His eyes zero in on your skirt before he shrugs. "Fits you like a damn glove. Knew I guessed right."

"You guessed-" You try and take his hand off your shoulder before realizing it only makes him push down just that little bit harder. "I didn't ask for clothes or jewelry or- for you to even still be trying to talk to me. What do you even want from me? My blood?"

"If I wanted to suck ya dry of all your blood, I'd've done it already darlin'. Nah, that'd be a damn waste of a spitfire like ya." Elvis murmurs as his eyes trace your form. "Think we'll have more fun with you alive and me alive as I'll ever be. 'Less ya gonna tell me you've gotta death wish."

You scoff at him, your lips curling up into a sneer. "I didn't even know ya were honestly still alive, what makes ya think ya were a part of any death wish I might have?"

"The fact that your heart insists on goin' a mile a minute 'round me. Or when you shivered like ya did. Might not have realized I was 'round but now that ya do-" His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Think ya'd enjoy dyin' with me drainin' the life from ya."

You shouldn't think the idea is enjoyable but you can't help the way your legs reflexively clench together. "Mr. Pres-"

"Elvis. Lil bunny, lil spitfire of a woman. You were waitin' f'me in the dark. Could've rushed in 'n torn out that pretty lil throat of yours 'fore I realized it was you. And wouldn't that've been a cryin' shame. Waste of a woman like ya."

It's flattering the way he calls you a spitfire and the way he leans close to you whispering it to you like a long lost lover. You reason your reaction stems from not being intimate with anyone for a while but truly perhaps it just is Elvis's natural charm. A shake of your head is all you manage to do before clearing your throat to speak. "Elvis. That- That was the point not- Ya needed to be caught off guard. Startled. And-"

The laugh he lets out is low and mocking. "Oh darlin' you wanted to surprise a vampire. You- God, you're somethin' else. Maybe- Stay here tonight. Don't got plans, know that."

The unfortunate truth of the matter that he's correct. You don't have plans but spending the night and staying there with him has you shaking your head once again. That is the exact opposite of anything you want to do. "No. Find- They'll send up another girl if ya ask them to or have- I don't know, I'm not staying here tonight."

His hand that's been on your shoulder moves to your neck and traces the lines of it gently as he leans forward and lets a nail act almost as if he's going to prepare it to be pierced by his teeth. "Not even if I have somethin' to tell ya. Somethin' interestin'?"

Your face perks up for a moment at the thought of just what he might want to tell you before you frown. "Not even- I want to go home Mr-"

"Elvis. Not. Mr. Presley. Not to ya." The words are growls in your ear and involuntarily your mouth opens up and lets out a soft whimper and whine. At the noise his hand moves to stroke your clavicle. "Just for tonight. Won't- Don't plan on doing what your body seems to want me t'do. Just wanna talk."

You use the fact that his hand isn't directly pushing you down to slip out of the chair. His eyes widen in shock before he moves to pull you into his arms. He doesn't bother to move fast, more preoccupied with seeing your reaction. You take a step or two back and he drops his arms to his side before motioning to the door. "'Nother night then, Y/N. 'Nother night." A beat. "I won't stop."

Whatever you want to say just comes out as a hiss of anger almost like you're a cat before you slink out the door. Once you're in the elevator you sink to the floor and try to steady your breathing, you try to tamp down on your arousal and try and ignore the part of your brain craving to find out just what he wanted to talk to you about.

That craving doesn't leave you and if you didn't know any better you'd think it was supernatural the way it worms its way into your mind and settles in popping up at the worst possible times. It only takes a week before you find yourself waiting for him in the dark again, wearing a pinstripe pair of pants and the red blouse he had given you. You don't mean to fall asleep waiting for him this time but you do, only to wake up when you feel the presence of something staring at you. By this point his show had been over for an hour and he's in a robe that looks- soft. "Rise n' shine, lil bunny."

You scramble a bit, shocked and mortified that you fell asleep before you look at Elvis who is just sitting casually as can be in a chair next to yours. Your eyes drift over him before you bite your lip. "I'm only here to- I want to know what ya were going to tell me last week. And I want ya to stop- I want to not have a bunch of gifts every day."

His shoulders move in a shrugging motion before he shakes his head. "I got no problem tellin' ya about it, but 'less you're gonna help, ya still gonna get the gifts."

"Why do ya- I don't want- That's not how you charm someone into helping ya." You cycle through words faster than you mean to, more confused than anything else at what he's saying. "What do ya even need my help for?"

It's a valid question, you figure, after all he's a vampire and you are still very much a human but he hums, waving off the question before moving his chair to face you and to essentially pin you into being stuck in your own chair. "It's how I figure you'll be charmed." He pauses. "Lil outta practice wit' th'other one. As for what I need ya help for-" He trails off and pulls off the mask obscuring part of his face to reveal a burn scar that is noticeable enough to have you gasping. "Need ya to help me avoid doin' this again. Don't feel like burnin' up like that on the other side. Let alone anywhere else."

Several moments pass before you finally find the words to articulate your question that aren't just straight confused noises. "Are ya asking me to help ya set fire to something?" He cannot be asking you to do that. You have to be dead and this is just a very vivid post death hallucination.

For his part Elvis nods slowly, looking you dead in the eye with the most laconic face as he answers you. "I'm askin' ya t'help me set fire to this place."

"The hotel?" Your tone shifts up about 2 octaves and you swear your voice just whistles instead of actually speak. "Where I work? Where you perform?"

That same laconic look doesn't leave Elvis's face. "The one I tried to set fire to in '81 only to burn half my face? That very one, lil bunny."

You can't help but laugh though it's not something normal and sensible that comes out of your mouth. No, it's a high pitched mildly terrified giggle that leaves your mouth. He's- He is asking you to commit arson with him. To help him set fire to a place he's performed at since the 1970s. That you work at. He cannot be serious. "You're- You're joking. I- I have Elvis Presley who is apparently a vampire stalking me so that I can help him set fire to a hotel because you fucked up the first time?"

The giggle is still there before his hand darts out and wraps around your throat, tightening just slightly. "Keep laughin' lil one. Keep laughin' and I'll rip that throat clean out. Won't even be recognizable."

His hand steals your breath away from you as you try to take a breath only to have him tighten it more. He- He won't kill you, you don't think, this is just to scare you, to make you want to do what he's asking for but your vision is starting to blur just a bit and you can't help the way your eyes are starting to roll back in your head before suddenly you can breathe. You cough a little violently as air rushes back into your lungs before you glare at him, pushing the chair back in order to stand up. "You keep threatening to kill me, ya sure ya want my help? I don't- I'm leaving. This is a joke. You're a joke just like ya were-"

In a rush Elvis has you pulled tightly to his chest, his arms snaking around you and tightening like a python. "Stopped being a joke the second this happened to me don't- Heard enough of that from all those goddamn tabloids and from the reports of my death."

You're going to die, this is how you're going to die. Not by starvation or homelessness or by some madman murdering you on the streets. No, you're going to die because a man who was a has been before he became a vampire and is even more of one now despite three more albums under his belt and another Grammy for that eighties gospel album. Still you have to fight him, he's not- if he wants your help he won't kill you. You're- he's obsessed with you, isn't he? Wants your help that bad?

"Elvis, I think you're just a lonely scared little boy in a man's- excuse me- vampire's body." You snarl, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, as if you have any chance of winning against a vampire with superhuman strength. As if you'd have any chance winning against him even if he was human. Elvis Presley never had been a small man and you had never been the strongest of women.

"And if I am? Ya gonna be my salvation? Gonna save me from this hell on Earth? This eternal damnation forced on me by a Dutch lyin' bastard?" He leans closer to you, his breath ghosting over your face, over your lips as he takes breaths he doesn't need to and as he watches your eyes have a fire in them that warms him from the inside out. "Gonna make me feel better about it, darlin'? Ya really think ya good enough t'do that? That I like ya 'nough for that t'work?"

"Ya haven't killed me yet." You spit at him, just narrowly avoiding actually spitting on him. "I'm still alive and ya seem pretty damn obsessed with getting me of all the people in this town to help ya. So, yes, I think ya like me just enough."

At your words Elvis's grip on you loosens and he steps back like you burned him for a moment before he practically hisses at you. "'m only obsessed 'cause ya seem like the only person who could do it." A beat and something flashes in his blue and red tinged eyes. "And ya- yer from home." Memphis is what he means but he doesn't think to clarify. He takes a step forward and grabs at your chin even as you let out a snarl of your own. "Ya hate this place as much as I do. And think ya'd like seein' it burn down 'round ya. Don't lie. Can tell if ya do."

A quick dart of your eyes to the side is all the answer you can give for a moment as you try to compose yourself. "Doesn't mean I wanna help ya. Doesn't mean I'm gonna help ya."

For the briefest of moments, Elvis looks human and looks like a little boy when he looks at you. He's- You recognize the look, it's almost practically begging. "Please. This place- it ain't good for anyone. Me, especially but can't tell me it's done a bit of good for anyone other than who owns it."

He's right, as much as you loathe to admit it and it shows in how you purse your lips. "I'm not- I ain't agreeing to this, but tell me just what your hairbrained plan is."

As it turns out, Elvis's plan takes until the break of dawn to explain and two orders of room service delivered by one man who goes back downstairs and a woman who- well, served as Elvis's food until she fell limp in arms. There was something enrapturing about watching the act, watching how her mouth contorted into one of pleasure as she came in his arms before you could slowly see the life drain from her until his mouth came off her neck with a pop and a squelch. When he looks at you his lips are covered in her blood and he can't help but give you a toothy grin. "Sounds like you're jealous of her and me. Can't risk killing ya but maybe- maybe soon lil one."

That morning you call in and dream of his lips against your neck and of the pleasure he'd give you because- he doesn't want to kill you. You'd just get all the joys of being fed from but none of the tragedy. If you avoid him that night, you blame it on your shift. He doesn't call you out on the lie.

Planning arson between two people, one of whom has a larger bank account but can't leave his residence and the other who has a smaller bank account but can roam as she pleases is harder than one would think. Yet you both persevere, meeting up every other night to gather the items needed. What's been tripping you up for ages has been the floor plans and it shows in how you've been getting snappier with Elvis each passing meeting. He gives back in spades, somehow being worse than he was your first and second meetings but tonight- tonight he seems a little melancholy and a melancholy Elvis is a very human Elvis and one you find- one you could see a future with perhaps. A twisted one but one that flutters into your brain on nights you can't sleep or nights you can sleep despite dreams of the two of you mouths red and snarling as you feed.

"At this point ya might as well kill me." Your accent has been returning with a vengeance the more time you spend with Elvis any acting classes you had to train it out of you falling by the wayside. "We ain't gonna find a proper floor plan and without that we can't-"

"Y/N." His tone is laced with a warning- don't test him, not tonight. "I got time- wanna get this done but 'nother week ain't gonna hurt."

"Says the man who hasn't fed from me and is gonna live forever." Your eyes are blazing when you look at him before you continue. "I wanna get this over with. Wanna have- Wanna see if you'll do somethin' if we get it done."

Elvis's eyes narrow looking at you for a moment before he rubs his hand over his mouth. "Oh. That's- Lil Bunny. That's the problem? Ya want me t'do somethin' to ya? Have my wicked way with ya?"

You can feel your heartbeat rushing in your ears before you can even articulate an answer. "That's not- Ya keep looking at me. Like- like I'm someone ya might wanna- No, I don't."

"Ya do." He moves to lean over your chair, putting your face at eye level with his chest. "Ya wanna know what it's like to be in my bed. Wanna know what it's like to please me."

You do, lord above you do. You're essentially committing a crime for him and for what? For the pleasure of knowing you've set fire to a horrible hotel? That you've freed him from this place? For nothing that gives you any satisfaction. "Is that so wrong? Ya won't kill me when there's a line of bodies I can probably trace back to your first year as a vampire. Ya won't feed from me because then where's your help for this silly scheme. Ya won't fuck me because-"

"Listen darlin, honey, satnin. I- I get a lil lonely up here. I know what ya gonna say- jus' leave but you've seen how it is." Seen how he can't leave the room for fear someone's going to actually realize that he's Elvis Presley and not some impersonator. Seen how people already mock the fact that he's still around- after all hadn't you? Seen how he looks out at the view of Vegas, almost wistful when he thinks you're not looking. "I haven't killed ya but- you're- ya remind me of how I was. Always been- the way I am but not not like this. Don't feel like ruinin' it is all."

His hand reaches out to touch your face and it's so gentle that you can't help but nuzzle into it and take a quick inhale of breath. "Elvis."

He hums, noting how your eyes shut and for the briefest of moments he remembers what it was like to have someone whisper his name like that. Like a prayer you're scared will float away and fail if you say it too loud. He's missed that, he's missed so much of what it was like to be human, to be able to live freely even if back in the day his freedom still had him confined. You just look so sweet nuzzling his palm, acting as if you're the love of his life, acting as if you belong there. Maybe that's why he had been cursed otherwise he doubts he would have made it to this decade or at least made it to this decade in a state you might have wanted him in. "Y/N?"

"Why are you being like this?" You whisper, still nuzzling at his palm. "You- From the stories I've heard you're- you've never been a completely good man. I haven't seen you be a good man."

Another hand, his free hand moves to cup the opposite side of your face and forces you to look up at him. His eyes always such a stormy blue with that ring of red since you came across him have taken on a lighter hue and it takes your breath away as you feel his thumbs stroke your cheek. "Haven't had a reason t'be one. Look where it got me, satnin. Haven't pushed ya away yet, maybe you're- maybe you're the thing to settle this violent angry head of mine. So pretty- so gentle when ya wanna be. Let me take care of ya, hm?"

His hand moves away from you and you chance it almost in a trance before you look at him and bite your lip. "Take care of me?" The subtext is clear as your heart starts to race and your legs clench together.

What was the harm in treating you tonight? Maybe it would give you the right incentive to find the floor plans, to look harder than you had been. Maybe that was the real trouble you were having. You were too distracted by your desire and want for him. His hand moves down to your chest, undoing the buttons of your blouse slowly. "Take care of ya. Jus' for tonight."

That night you find yourself gasping for air, screaming his name, arching your back and snarling all at once. You find that when you leave you play with the bite mark on your breast and shudder remembering his words said against your ear more than once. "Might make ya mine if ya do well enough."

It still takes another two weeks to get the floor plans, the proper up to date ones. Two weeks of finding yourself in Elvis's bed with him teasing you and making promises about his plans for you and him. But, as it turns out someone had been wanting to get a room at the hotel and well, you did work the front desk so you could handle getting them some accommodations for a fee of course. Elvis wastes no time in opening up the plans when you arrive that night with them in your hand, holding a bottle of champagne for you and the number of someone you had met on the bus for Elvis to enjoy his own drink. After she's on the floor and you're nursing your second flute of champagne you feel Elvis behind you wrapping his strong arms around your middle and pulling you close.

"Gonna turn ya when it's all ash. Won't be stuck here any longer, can do what I want again. Take ya all around the world." He whispers against the shell of your ear, nipping once he reaches your earlobe. "You're gonna look so fuckin' gourgous feedin'. Vicious as ya are. Ya did so good bringin' me dinner too. Wish I coulda shared her wit' ya. Soon, lil Bunny, soon."

There's an alarm in your head that goes off at those words, at the way he coos them while holding you. They feel off- fake somehow and you down that second glass the moment he lets go of you. Had- You knew very well he wasn't a nice man, you've known this from the second you first spoke but he- there's no way he has any intention of changing you. He might be obsessed with you but that's because you've been the only person who can handle herself well enough to do this, hadn't it? You were going to get him to the finish line of burning down the hotel only to what burn with it yourself? Take the fall for a dead man? You file away the thoughts in your head for a later moment, if you thought about them now Elvis would know.

You smile at him almost saccharine. "Ya mean it? I'll be your vicious lil vampire queen?"

He grabs your chin and pulls you in for a kiss not caring that he still has a trace of blood on his lips. "The second it's up in smoke. Promise."

Liar.

Las Vegas in August is disgusting, better than some places in the United States, but it's still hotter than Hades and feels nearly as suffocating despite the lack of humidity. A fact you keep pointing out to Elvis as you both hold small cans of gas.

"Should've killed ya like the res' of 'em. No one would've missed ya. Jus' another lil' girl in Vegas runnin' 'round thinkin' she could make it big." You see a flash of his teeth and you figure it's supposed to scare you but at this point you like to think you know better.

"If ya killed me who would be helpin' ya right now?" The way you speak is practically a sneer but you can't help it, not with how he just somewhat threatened to kill you. "Hurry up, people are going to start coming back and I don't-"

"It's 11PM and they're in Vegas the hell are they-" He starts before he starts to trot off to the area he's most familiar with- the stages. "Meet me by the damn elevator."

An eye roll is the only response he gets as he leaves you to your own thoughts as you pour the can of gasoline in a line between the already waiting containers of it. If all goes well the walls of fire you and Elvis hope to create will have the entire building up in smoke in no time at all. It makes it so you both have to be quick on each floor but you had taken precautions for this. You knew every way to get down the floors as quickly as you could and Elvis wouldn't leave you behind. After all, he kept talking about his lil' spitfire queen. Kept cooing the words at you in between planning and buying the gas and finding yourself spread across his sheets or above him.

And yet something felt different, you had that same feeling you did when he talked about how gorgeous you'd look feeding. It felt off. You try to shake the feeling away as you two reach the top of the building, his penthouse suite and cover it in extra gasoline. He wanted every bit of this room demolished, nothing salvageable but to do that you are currently feeling faintly high on the sheer amount of gasoline in the room and wondering just how no embers from the cigar he just lit have fallen yet. You almost miss the words he says when he looks over at you. "Ready to run?"

A shrug is your only answer before you try and take a deep breath. "Get in the elevator first, then toss it."

He obliges, letting you go first with a flourish that rather than delight you has your hackles raising. "Ladies first."

Elvis Presley used to be a gentleman. Elvis Presley is not a gentleman any more.

Right before the doors to the elevator close Elvis tosses his cigar between the door and as they shut you feel the rush of heat from the roaring blast it caused. This is the only floor you have to take the elevator for and it makes each consecutive floor easier. You both light a cigar and toss before running to the next floor, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat even as Elvis pulls you in for a harsh kiss his eyes blazing in the fire he had started with his cigar, looking practically manic with delight. The fire brings out the red in his eyes. It scares you.

"Calm down, Lil' Bunny. Almost there." He shouts practically sing songing the words as you rush down yet another flight of stairs to the second floor. "One more floor and you're mine. We'll be free. I'll be free."

There it is again, that nagging feeling that you're a means to an end for him. You brush it off one final time as you start to cough, the floors of smoke and blaring alarms of a sprinkler system that hasn't produced any water getting to you. "Jus' want this done, 'Vis."

Finally you reach the final floor, the bottom floor which is the most complicated. There's an extra exit, a fire exit in the stage area so you both agree that's the last room, that's the last place to be set ablaze and Elvis finds it almost poetic when he thinks about it. He stares at the doors for a moment before he enters with you, as if he thinks he has all the time in the world. He might, he might be able to run out of there fast enough but the smoke is starting to get to you and the heat from the blaze above and around you is making the area around you sweltering. "You said you'd turn me, Elvis. Once we get outside, right?" You have to shout before you cough over the roar of the blaze and how somehow it's starting blow toward you as you shut the door to leave you and him in the lone area not on fire yet.

The cigar in his mouth is lit and he contemplates knocking off the tip, letting it start to catch everything ablaze before he stops himself and nods. "Course, gonna do it the second you get some air in ya."

Your own cigar- the last cigar is lit and you're about to toss it before you stare at him, stare at him because that tone- that tone betrays his actual plan. "Why not now? I can- I can barely breathe in here, Elvis."

Those words have him tossing his cigar and have a whoosh of fire come up behind him as he walks towards you. "You'll be fine, lil spitfire. Y/N. You don't- Patience. Don't wanna rush forever."

Your mind goes blank as you drop the cigar you were holding and have to jump out of the way as a bit of fire starts to separate you and Elvis. He glances at the fire and growls, realizing he's very quickly going to be boxed in before he wooshes to a spot next to you. "Tryin' to kill me? 'Cause I won't-"

A crash can be heard of a bit of wood falling onto the stage and you jump before you cut him off. "Because you're not plannin' on it. Ya gonna- You're plannin' on killin' me, aren't ya?"

"Eatin' ya, actually. It's what ya wanted back when ya first saw me eat. Wanted to be fucked then sucked. I fucked ya now-" His words are cut off with a slap that he allows you to do because it gives him the ability to grab at your wrist. "Loose end, lil one. Either you go down for this or ya die. Gave ya the more pleasurable option."

"While telling me you were going to change me!" You snarl half running toward the door even as you inhale another bit of smoke causing you to cough more. "You- You've been usin' me this whole damn time! I- you said you'd make me your little queen."

He's faster and he has you pinned up against a wall as he feels the flames starting to inch toward you both and as you keep swallowing more and more smoke. "Ya called me a damn has been and a joke. Darlin' ya don't wanna spend eternity wit' me, ya jus' wanna run around spending an eternity doing whatever the hell ya want to do. Ain't gonna give ya something you think is a gift."

"You- I'm- I can't breathe." You choke out as you try and take deep breaths only to realize that the room is filling with grey smoke. He's fine because he doesn't need to breathe but you- you need air.

"Shame I didn't change ya before. Didn't give ya what ya wanted to use me for. Don't care 'bout me. Lil Memphis spitfire don't care 'bout the thing everyone loves 'bout the place. No wonder your mama and daddy don't want ya to come back." His tone is mocking as he keeps you pinned to the wall, despite inching himself closer to the door. He was going to escape and you were going to die by smoke inhalation if the fire didn't kill you first.

A breath of air enters your lungs suddenly as you find that Elvis lets you go, a bit of the fire catching onto his pant leg right as he reaches the door with you. You seize the opportunity and hit at the door with your body, trying to force it open as he steps on the offending burning fabric. even as another crash can be heard on the stage and you see more and more paint chips fluttering around both of you, or maybe that's ash you've never seen a fire this big. The door finally flings open and more fresh air for your lungs and to feed the fire. Elvis whooshes over to you and attempts to block your way out but for once you have the upper hand, managing to be on the outside of the building while Elvis is still just barely in there. He realizes his mistake, realizes what you just very well might do to him in an instant.

"Lil Bunny- I'll- Don't be rash. I'll do it. I'll do what I said I would." He coos even as the fire rushes around him, his hair becoming more messed up the more he stands there. His face getting more ashes on it the longer he stands there.

"Liar. Liar." You tilt your head and move to push him inside. "Pants on fire."

His eyes look down thinking you're telling him his pants are literally on fire and you take that as your opportunity to shut the door, locking it in a way only you know how. Within a moment he starts to push at the door.

"Y/N!" He shouts through the door. "I'll do it, just let me outta here! I'm- Ya don't want this on your conscious! I wasn't gonna kill ya! Baby- Darlin- Lil Bunny, let me out!"

"Not gonna believe a lyin' dead man, Presley!" You shout, knowing that you sound insane before you start to move away because he's right you don't want that on your conscious. You hear him shouting promises you doubt he'll keep and feel the fresh bite he had made on your chest burn as you walk away but you're able to fake being a victim among the crowd, the ashes covering your face and the way you keep coughing as the building burns and as you swear you hear a series of Southern curses in the wind.

The bite scars over and aches from time to time.

They don't find his body. You try and not let it keep you up at night.

[afourthestate]

Charlie's Favorite Musical Artists (March 2024)

The Clash

The Clash is the definitive British punk band, often referred to as "the only band that matters" during the height of its success. My father raised me on this band and it is very near and dear to my heart. The Clash taught me important lessons in the importance of fighting against oppression and in becoming a more decent person. Some of my favorite songs of The Clash include "The Guns of Brixton", "Lost in the Supermarket", "Rock the Casbah", and "This is England". However, their greatest song is "Spanish Bombs" from the London Calling album. This song is criminally underrated and I encourage everyone to give it a shot.

The English Beat

This band is actually called The Beat, but goes by the name The English Beat in the States because there was already a different band holding the rights to their original name here. "Special Beat Service" is definitely their best album and is great to turn on in the background. This band is defined by their reggae style and frequent use of the saxophone. My favorite song of The English Beat is "Sole Salvation", although I love their cover of "Can't Get Used to Losing You" as well. Fun fact, the instrumental version of their song "Rotating Heads" is used in the sequence of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" in which the titular character is racing to get home before his father.

Galen & Paul

Galen & Paul is a joint venture between Galen Ayers and former bassist Paul Simonon. When Mr. Simonon joined The Clash, he had no prior musical experience, so he is a bit of an idol for me in that he has shown me that it's never too late to learn music. Galen & Paul is a relatively recent collaboration and has only been around for about a year. They have released two albums, "Can We Do Tomorrow Another Day?" and "Uno Más" (although the latter is only four songs, which I am pretty sure are tracks that didn't make the cut for the first album). Their music, for the most part, has very cozy, lonely, spooky, and damp vibes? Overall, I was less impressed with "Uno Más", but the song "One More For the Road" from the album is in contention for the title of being their best work.

Elvis Costello

If you know me well, there is a pretty good chance you have heard me mention Elvis Costello. Costello is easily my favorite musical artist of all time. He is a world class lyricist, writes incredibly beautiful music, and has one of the most distinctive voices and style I can think of. I discovered Costello through his hits "Pump It Up" and "Radio Radio" and while these are very good songs, they are not even his best. This man has four albums where I enjoy every single song. Every. Single. Song. His skill as a musician is actually out of this world. I cannot even list my favorite tracks of his here because there would be too many. I can say that his album "Imperial Bedroom" is criminally underrated and I cannot recommend it enough. "My Aim Is True", "This Year's Model", and "Armed Forces" might be more enjoyable for some though. I was fortunate enough to see Costello live in Dallas as part of his 7-0-7 tour. Please, give Costello a chance. If you like Radiohead, Tho Yorke cited Costello as a huge influence on their album "OK Computer".

Honorable Mentions

The Police, The Tom Robinson Band (Glad to Be Gay is wow), The Specials (pretty much just because of Ghost Town holy moly), XTC (specifically Mayor of Simpleton), The Cure (love you Robert Smith), Men At Work, The Smiths, R.E.M, Talking Heads, Squeeze

[septembersghost]

Different anon but who are your top5 artists ? The one's you absolutely can't live without

this is impossibly difficult because i love music so deep in my soul, and it's my truest love and passion and companion, and i try to listen to a lot of it. <3 (also because at any other point in time the first artist i'd list is someone i'm currently taking distance from...we think we can't live without something and then we keep living anyway. her music is part of the fabric of my being, i have to believe it'll come back to me someday). i also feel like if i'm completely honest, my other four would not be modern at all? and that makes me feel like i'm being weird or pretentious or something, when the truth of it is that i just really love old music. because the artists, outside of my oft-mentioned salvational lifelines in taylor and fob, that immediately pop into my head are elvis, frank, ella, barbra, and fleetwood mac. and that's probably the truest picture of me somehow!

[wutbju]

Joan C. Nowak, 78, of Milwaukee, formerly of Watertown, passed away on Thursday, June 8, 2023 at AccentCare Inpatient Center in Wauwatosa.

A funeral service will be held on Saturday, June 17, 2023 at 11:00 a.m. at Hafemeister Funeral Home in Watertown with Pastor Dean Noonan of Faith Baptist Church in Oak Creek officiating. Burial will follow at Ebenezer Moravian Cemetery in Watertown. Family and friends may gather at the funeral home from 10:00 a.m. until the time of the service. Memorials, if desired, would be appreciated to the Salvation Army. Hafemeister Funeral Home and Cremation Service is serving the family. Online condolences may be made at www.hafemeisterfh.com.

Joan Carol Nowak (a.k.a. Joanie-Baloney) was born on February 23, 1945 in Watertown to Raymond and Arvada (Jeche) Tessmann. She graduated from Bob Jones University and later received her Masters plus 30 degree. She was also a Fulbright scholar, which embarked her on her first trip of many to Germany. After that, Joan began her German teaching career for a short time in Racine and then for 33 years at Oak Creek High School. On July 23, 1993 she married David C. Nowak, the love of her life. They were married at Graceland Wedding Chapel by an Elvis impersonator in Las Vegas. They gracefully went through their mid-life crises together by purchasing a Harley and each getting tattoos!

Joan loved her grandchildren (Little Man, and Layla) tremendously and spoiled them at every chance! She had a great sense of humor and had many ‘Joan-isims’ such as ‘it be what it be’, ‘oh baby, oh baby’, ‘Colorado barking spider’, and ‘how nice’. She saw the good in everyone and was such a giving person. Joan liked music, playing the violin, and singing. She enjoyed traveling and took hundreds of students to Germany, without ever losing anyone! She loved living in Arizona and going down to Nogales, Mexico, just across the border. She took her last vacation in December on a family trip to Negril, Jamaica. Joan loved the Lord, church, and life. Her faith in Jesus and hope in the promise of heaven, kept her going, especially in her tough times with Dementia. She truly was a one-of-a-kind person and will be deeply missed by all that knew her.

Joan is survived by her two children: Nathan Paul Carlson, Amy (Brandon) Leitheiser; two grandchildren: Layla & Everett Leitheiser; siblings: Nancy (Ronald “Loop”) Spiegelhoff of Oconomowoc, Richard “Dick” Tessmann of Sterling, IL, Dave (Joanne) Tessmann of Travelers Rest, SC; as well as other relatives and friends.

She was preceded in death by her parents and husband David on February 10, 2019.