#love this photo of cilla

[valkaryah]

Priscilla Presley photographed by Oscar Abolafia

[get-back-homeward]

Ringo's Love of Jive Dancing

Playing skiffle with Eddie Clayton introduced a welcome way out from the street-corner existence Richy Starkey had known more than a year. It would take a long time to remove himself completely, but being with a group was an alternative to “walking” with the gang, and when he and Roy weren’t doing one or the other they were often dancing. Both were athletic and acrobatic jivers, accomplished rock and roll dancers able to flip, flop and fly their female partners, hold them up in the air and send them scooting through their legs.

Richy was a good jiver and so was I. We used to go to all the hops, to the Rialto and the Cavern, and girls liked to dance with us because we could do it. We had denim suits and denim jackets so the lads and girls in the Cavern called us “the Binmen.” We had regular jiving partners and loved it. But we were seriously threatened in the Rialto one night. Some feller got stabbed in the face with a pair of scissors and I was told, “You and your mate are next.” We were out of there like a shot. We didn’t like that at all. That was me and Richy—out the door.

—Tune In (Ch. 7, July 15–Dec 15, 1957)

A jukebox pumped out records when the Hurricanes took a break and [Ringo] was easily the best jiver in the group, never short of a dance partner. Margaret Douglas, on holiday here from Liverpool, says, “Ringo was a brilliant rock ’n’ roll dancer. He knew all the moves.”26

—Tune In (Ch. 15, May 31–Aug 15, 1960)

[sissylittlefeather]

Role Play Part 4: Hello Soldier

A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long!! I don't know what I was thinking trying to write two series at once with one shots and Elvis movie characters too! Blame it on the ADHD. ICYMI, this is the series between 1971 Elvis and a fem!reader who like to experiment in the bedroom with different role plays.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and infidelity (Elvis is definitely married)

Word count: ~2.3k

Leaving you the last time was harder than Elvis expected. He's very glad to have the photos that he took of you, but it's not enough. Still, he doesn't want to give you the wrong idea, so he doesn't meet up with you. It's also not easy to find time alone with Priscilla there with him. Periodically, she leaves for a short spell and he's able to look at your photos. A couple of times he actually breaks down and calls you just to hear your voice.

Your conversations always last longer than he intends and he usually ends up hanging up quickly when he hears the front door open. It surprises you that he calls, especially after he was so adamant about not being in love with you. But the fact remains that you're in love with him and you know it. It's hard to turn away any amount of attention or time that he gives you. You probably should end it, for your own good, but you just can't. Finally, in the beginning of April, about 6 weeks after the last time you were together, he calls on a Friday afternoon and the excitement in his voice is obvious.

"Hey, baby. Are you busy this weekend?"

"For the whole weekend? No, I didn't have much planned."

"Good. You're coming to Graceland. Cilla went to California for the weekend and took Lisa Marie with her. We have the house to ourselves." The fact that he wants to spend a whole weekend with you is not lost on you. Your heart flip flops at the thought.

"Okay. When should I come over?"

"As soon as you can. And don't forget it's your turn to pick the role play."

"I have an idea." You say playfully.

"I can't wait, honey. I'll see you soon." He hangs up and you get up and pack a bag with a few outfits and toiletries. The last thing you grab is an old nurse outfit you wore for Halloween one year. Before you pack it, you try it on just to make sure it still fits. You look at yourself in the mirror and smile. He's gonna love this one.

******

Elvis is pacing the floor in the living room, every once in a while walking to the piano and sitting down. But he never settles enough to play anything. When you finally pull up, he's smoking a cigarillo and looking out the window. Normally, the house is full of activity, but he's made sure that all of his guys knew to be somewhere else this weekend. The thought of spending two whole days and nights with you is intoxicating. He tries to convince himself that the sex is just that good, but he worries that there's more to it than that. Still, he misses you so much that he can't waste the opportunity to see you.

You walk up to the front door cautiously and knock. The big house is a little intimidating and you don't love that it's where he lives with his wife, but you understand that this is where he feels safe from the prying eyes of the public. And to be honest, at this point you'd go pretty much anywhere just to be with him.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself and then opens the door. He can't let you know how excited he is; it might give the wrong impression.

"Hey, honey. Come on in." He takes your bag from you and then ushers you into the house. Closing the door, he drops your bag on the floor and wraps himself around you affectionately and kisses your hair.

"Did you miss me?" You ask, half-kidding.

"You know I did, baby." He breathes you in and a sense of calm settles in his chest. Why does being around you impact him like this?

******

After a late dinner, you sit at the dining room table talking. It never ceases to amaze you that there always seems to be something to talk about with him.

You finally come to a lull in the conversation and he looks at you and smiles. He's pulled your chair over close to him so he can put his hand on your knee as you talk. He leans over to your ear and whispers.

"I think it might be almost bedtime. What do ya think?"

"Mmmm. Y'know, you're not looking so good." He backs away and gives you a confused look.

"What?"

"I think you need a checkup. I'll call a nurse to come check on you." You wink at him seductively and he catches on.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, I better get upstairs." He feigns illness and you both make your way upstairs. As you walk up in front of him, he smacks your ass.

"Hey! You're supposed to be sick."

"Well, I can't help it when you look like that." At the landing, he grabs you and pulls you into a deep kiss. You push him off you and usher him into the bedroom. When you get in there, you instantly flash back to the first night you were together at the wedding reception. You can't believe you're here again. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, setting his chin on your shoulder.

"Are you thinkin' about the gun lesson?"

"Maybe. Or about the handcuffs." He smiles and kisses your cheek.

"I still have 'em."

"Mmm, you're getting me all distracted. You better go get in that bed and let me call the nurse." He reluctantly pulls away from you and makes his way to the bed. You pull your outfit out of your bag and go in the bathroom to change.

When you open the door and walk towards him, his mouth drops open. Then he sits up quickly.

"Wait! That's an army nurse outfit. Hang on a second." He jumps out of the bed, goes in the closet, and shuts the door. You stand there dumbfounded, not knowing what to expect.

After several minutes he opens the door and it's your turn to drop your jaw. He's fully decked out in his army uniform, complete with hat. The only thing he's not wearing is the boots.

"I can't believe you still have that."

"I can't believe I can still wear it." He puts his arms out and spins around. You feel something in your stomach flip flop. He looks incredible. You consider ditching the role play and just fucking him senseless, but you don't.

"Come get in this bed, soldier. I need to check you out."

"Yes ma'am." He sits on the bed with his back up against the pillows and takes his hat off. You're pretty sure this role play won't last long with him looking as good as he does, but you walk up next to the bed and pick up his wrist.

"I need to check your pulse."

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. It's hard to find on that side. You'll have to use the other wrist." He holds up his other arm for you, but doesn't move it towards you, so you have to lean across his body. When you do, he uses his other hand to grab a handful of your ass.

"Sir!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Proceed." You finish pretending to check his pulse and take the fake stethoscope that came with your outfit from around your neck. As you put it in your ears, you make the mistake of looking down at his body. He has a massive and very obvious erection. You clench your thighs together, but it's hard to ignore the wetness there or the way your mouth waters. You're not going to make it much longer.

When you bend over to listen to his heart. He looks down at your cleavage and grunts. He's so ready to have you naked and on top of him. Why did he have to have the grand idea to put on the army uniform? While you listen, he moves his hand to his cock and touches himself just a little bit.

"Sir, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry nurse, it's just, I'm having the most intense feeling down here and I'm not sure what to do about it."

"Would you like me to take a look?"

"Please, nurse." He smiles coyly and you roll your eyes playfully. You move down his body to his erection and touch it gently, slowly rubbing your hand up and down.

"Does this feel better?"

"A little, but I can hardly feel it through my pants." He licks his lips and tries to smile innocently. You begin to undo his pants and free his cock so that you can take the whole thing in your hands. "Mmm, that's a lot better."

You begin to stroke him, moving his foreskin back and forth. He whimpers and his hips buck up into your hand.

"I have another idea to try and help. Do you mind if I try it?"

"Baby, you can do anything you want to me." You lean over and put your mouth around him and he groans loudly. As you move on him, bouncing up and down slowly, he reaches out and touches you between the legs. When he realizes you're not wearing panties, he runs a finger up your slit and gathers the wetness. "God, you're so wet, honey."

"Mhmmm." You hum as you take him into your throat. At the same time, he pushes one finger into you and begins to pump it in and out. After a few more seconds of this, he pulls his finger out and you whimper a little. He smacks your ass softly.

"Baby, come here." You pull off of him a little, holding him in your hand, and he grabs your ass and guides your hips onto the bed. He scoots down so that he's laying down fully and situates your hips above his face. Then, he pulls your pussy down to his mouth and starts licking your clit. You moan and shudder as the pleasure washes over you and then go back to sucking his cock. You bounce on him quickly as he licks fast circles over and around you. He grunts and you moan as you both approach a climax together, but he pulls back.

"Honey, stop. Focus on what I'm doing. I want you to cum first." You make a disappointed sound, but obey and stop sucking him. He goes back to licking your clit with a new fervor and you lay your forehead on his hip. The sensation of his tongue moving over and around your sensitive bud is almost overwhelming. You feel the blood rush to your core and in just a few more seconds your orgasm slams into you like a freight train, pushing electric ecstasy out to your fingertips.

"Oh, fuck, Elvis, yes!" You cry out as he licks you through your body high. Once you come back down, you climb off of him and both of you sit up and tear at each other's clothing frantically. You can't get naked quick enough and the pieces of his uniform are discarded in a heap next to the bed. He pulls the nurse costume off of you so intensely that he actually tears it in at least one place.

When you finally are naked, he crawls on top of you and drives into you passionately, filling you in one shot and then pumping in and out fervidly. You wrap your legs around his waist and hold onto his shoulders, trying not to dig your nails into his back while he pounds you. There is a desperation and intensity in the way he fucks into you that makes you feel wild. You cry out with each thrust and he lets out a guttural grunt. The sounds are primal and animalistic and they match the pace of his hips slamming against yours. Your skin is hot and wet and you feel like you're on fire in the places where you meet. He kisses your neck and your cheek and your mouth and you bite his bottom lip. He responds by nipping at your neck and the two of you are caught up in each other and the moment so much that you forget anything else exists. There's only you and him and the shared pleasure of your connection. After what feels like an eternity but also not quite long enough, he ruts into you one last time and groans loudly.

"Fuckkkkk yesssss, y/n, yessss." He shudders and pumps weakly a couple more times and then collapses on top of you. You both lay there covered in sweat and trying to catch your breath.

"Goddamn, y/n. You're incredible." He's so lost in you right now that he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life having this kind of sex.

"You're not so bad yourself, soldier." You respond playfully, but there's a depth to what you're feeling that scares you a little. He pulls out and rolls off of you onto his side. You roll over to face him and push his sweaty hair back off of his forehead. He runs his fingertips down the side of your face and then swipes his thumb over your lips gently. His affection for you is undeniable at this point and he starts to worry that he might actually be falling in love with you. That was not the plan. This was supposed to be a fling that would last a month or two and be nothing but sex. He decides he'll tell you to go home in the morning. He'll give himself one more night to hold you and then it's over.

It has to be.

******

Until Part 5

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican

[mooodyblue]

any day now | part one.

summary: after a flight back from cali to memphis, elvis finds himself somehow stuck in your apartment in 2022.

warnings: time traveler!elvis, mentions of his death, priscilla doesn't exist, elvis (2022) exists without the cilla scenes (i know! sorry!), mentions of pill usage & insomnia

wc: 3.1k

a/n: please refer to this post before reading (unless you've never read my other don't fly away stories, you should be fine that case!). turning my first ever post on here into a full, chaptered fic. i'm a little nervous, but i hope you all enjoy! i know this is one of my most loved series. i've been working on this for awhile now so i can't tell you how happy i am to finally have this out for all of you to read!!! the first chapter is a little corny, but i assure you it will get better 🙏🏼

fresh off his final performance, sweaty and decked out in black leather. god, he felt good. more than good actually, he felt incredible. he missed this–performing the music he loves and in front of an audience, he wanted to do more. he was elvis presley, he should be making good music and not these silly films his manager had him filming the last few years.

of course, the colonel wasn't too ecstatic about the special. it was supposed to be a christmas special for christs sake. all elvis did was cover one christmas song and call it a day. and in black leather? what was going to be the outcome of all of this? the special would sure fail; it's not what the fans wanted to see. at least that's what he thought, elvis and steve binder would think otherwise. but elvis knows when he's pleased an audience, he had a good feeling about the special and couldn't wait to watch it.

there was a party set in place once filming was done, elvis was still reeling off the energy from performing much earlier. after coming in, greeting everyone with a loud ‘my boy, my boy!’–he’d had a few drinks, chatting it up with a few crew members and constantly thanking steve for his hard work. he only wished his momma were here to see how far he'd come, she'd be so proud of him. it almost made him a little sad. he shook himself out of his thoughts, getting himself another drink before going off to talk to more people.

he was ready to go home, to curl up in his bed and sleep for a few days. he had a couple more movies left to film due to his contract, but not before he gave himself a little time to rest.

he got himself on his plane back to memphis and went up to his bedroom immediately, plopping himself face first on his bed and letting out a small groan. it felt so good to be home. he missed his bed, the coldness of his bedroom.

but something was off.

elvis lifted his head, looking around the room. his room was….not his room. the walls were a plain white with photos he'd never seen before in his life, the bed was slightly smaller and there was a strong smell of….flowers? it was like someone had a candle burning. this wasn't his room at all. he jumped up quickly, “what in the hell….” he muttered. he wandered out of the room, gasping. he was not in graceland. he was in someone else's house. but how did he even get there? he walked around, looking at framed photos and all the different pieces of clutter laying around.

now, looking through other people's mail is a crime. it's illegal, however he needed to know where he was and who this place belonged to cause it sure as hell didn't belong to him. one glance out the window made him dizzy–this was not memphis and it was beyond anything he'd ever seen. for starters, he was in an apartment. maybe the fourth floor. the view was the city, but everything looked so….off. it didn't look right. it was like a different dimension. there was a billboard across the street that changed after a minute, promoting things he'd never even heard of.

he closed the blinds, backing away slowly. “this ain't right…..” he rubbed at his head, trying to figure out what to do. right, the mail. he went to the kitchen, rummaging through everything till he found a letter with an address and name on it. he was in california…again? beverly hills? what the hell was he doing in beverly hills? he just flew back home, how did he end up back in california?

he sat down at the counter, rubbing his temples trying to process everything. elvis was in someone else's home and he was positive he didn't break in. you can't just break into an apartment on the fourth floor, it's impossible. there were no signs of him breaking in anyway, so how did he end up here? maybe it was just a really weird dream. but where was the person who lived here? oh god, were they dead? is that why he's here? is he dead? he couldn't be.

there was a rattle at the front door along with the sound of keys. elvis jumped up quickly, frantically scanning to find a place to hide. you'd see him if he ran to the bedroom, he couldn't fit in any of the cabinets–this was it. he was going to prison. that'll be a fun headline. his career is definitely over. he watched as you wandered into your bedroom, not even giving him a glance. this was his chance to escape.

he quietly snuck his way to the front door, turning the knob slowly.

“what the fuck?”

oh, he was done for. elvis gulped, turning around slowly with a nervous expression on his face. “um….”

you reached for a butter knife lying on the counter, pointing it directly at him. elvis couldn't help but snicker at the idea of you stabbing him with a butter knife of all things. “who are you? why are you laughing? w-why are you dressed like a cheap elvis impersonator?”

“are you tryna murder me or make yourself some to-cheap?! who are you callin’ cheap?” he put his hands on his hips. “look, i-i-i don’t know how i got here. i’m not here to hurt ya and i swear i-i didn't break in.”

you scoffed, “i’m calling the police.” you took your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it and getting ready to dial the number.

“no! no, no, no–please! i-i-i swear-i’ll leave. i just don’t know where to go. i don't know where i am.” he begged.

you looked at him confused, “what's your name?”

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “elvis. i’m elvis presley.”

looking him up and down, you couldn't help but laugh. you burst out with laughter, clutching over and shook your head. “okay-seriously. what's your name?”

“i’m not being funny! i’m elvis presley!” he defended.

“prove it.”

his jaw went slack, almost looking defeated. he checked his pockets and every part of his body for some form of id–he had nothing on him. there was no way to prove that he was who he said he was. “look i-i don't have anything on me. i came back from filmin’ and then-” you got closer to him, examining his face, staring right at him as you circled him. “what are you doin’?”

“you speak exactly like him.” you got closer to his face, “what year is it?”

“y'know honey, i was about to ask you the same question.” he sneered, backing away from you.

“it's 2022.” you said, crossing your arms.

his eyes widened, backing farther away. “you're lyin’ to me. it's not-what? i-it should be ‘68….” he held his head, leaning into the wall.

none of this felt real to either of you, especially elvis. you googled a photo of him from ‘68, holding the phone close next to his face as a comparison. “holy shit.” you muttered, “you're….you're not an impersonator, there's no way.” and thank god for the people who got incredibly good photos of elvis in the 70s.

“i’ve been tryin’ to tell ya!” he groaned, “god, my head hurts.”

“i’ll get you some water, here.” you helped him to your sofa, fluffing pillows behind his back. he watched you get him a water from the fridge, everything just looked so..different. you handed him the small bottle, taking a seat next to him. “what do you remember? did you hit your head?”

he twisted the cap off, taking a swig then raising a brow at you. he shook his head, “no. not that i know of. i was on my plane back to memphis and i swear i went home and went straight to bed. i’m not dead, am i? or is this a weird dream?”

you didn't know how to answer his question. in a way, he was actually dead. except he's not dead, he's in front of you. it felt like a dream to you too. your eyes scanned his face. elvis just looked lost and confused, nervously fidgeting with the label from the water bottle you gave him. it was such an odd situation–almost something straight out of a movie. he could have showed up anywhere but the universe picked you. there had to be a reason for it.

elvis on the other hand, he had so many questions. many more than you. him being here, that means he didn't exist in this timeline. unless there were two of him, which didn't make much sense to him. “i’m dead, aren't i?”

you shifted awkwardly, clearing your throat. the silence gave elvis the answer he was looking for. “when?”

“‘77.” you answered lowly.

“christ.” he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “how?”

you stood up quickly. “are you hungry?” you chirped, trying to change the topic. “i-i can order something. what are you in the mood for?”

elvis watched you pace around the room, “uh-i mean….”

“oh! you like burgers, let's get you a burger. you'll be amazed at what they do with burgers compared to your time!” you nervously laughed, pulling up a delivery app on your phone. “there's even burgers named after you! they're all pretty much the same-”

“honey-”

“-i’ve had my fair share of elvis inspired meals but honestly-”

elvis pulled you by the arm, causing you to fall back onto the couch. “we don't have to talk about it. a-and i’m sorry for askin’.”

“there's just…so much you don't know.” you mumbled, looking down. he took one of your hands, holding it in his. “you're just getting started in your other life.” his touch was soft, the feeling of him rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand bringing you comfort.

“see, i told them that special would be a hit.” he joked. “look, i don't know what the hell happened. none of this is right at all, maybe i ended up here for a reason. but we'll figure it out, even if it's just for today.”

it's funny in some way, you always wondered what it'd be like to go back in time to meet elvis or see him live–now here he is, somehow traveling to the future. his presence is just as sweet and calming like you imagined, perhaps even more. even if you were to wake up tomorrow with him gone, you’d make his time here worth every second. you had so many questions, so many things to show him, proof that he was still loved after all these years. maybe you were the perfect person to do all of that for him.

you nodded, squeezing his hand. “i just can't believe you're here.”

“crazy how life works out.” he laughed. “now, you said somethin’ about a elvis burger….”

with a laugh, “oh, are you kidding? it's beyond burgers. you've got milkshakes too. hell, there's meals that have nothing to do with you named after you.” you pulled up a few for him to look at.

“you're kiddin’.....” he gasped, “and what's..what this thing you're showin’ it on?”

never in your life did you think you'd be sitting next to elvis presley, explaining what a phone was. how ordering food was just a few taps away and how easy it was to access all sorts of information, even showing him his wikipedia page but quickly avoiding the ‘death section’. you helped him pick out his order along with yours then went onto show elvis photos of himself you had searched for on pinterest. you did your best to filter out photos from the 70s, you knew he'd have questions and you weren't exactly sure if you were ready to have that conversation;not on day one.

“so…this means that lil’ christmas special i just filmed–it's out right? you can just pull it up on that tiny thing?” he asked, pointing at your phone.

you grinned, “even more than just the special. all your movies, concert films, concert footage and documentaries. people have even made movies about you!”

he groaned, “don't tell me you've seen my movies.”

“oh, absolutely. i really enjoyed clambake.”

“don't ever say clambake again.” he said sternly.

before you could respond, there was a ping on your phone and a knock at the door. elvis widened his eyes at you picking up the bags from outside the door, “that fast?” he said, surprised.

you held the bags up proudly and gestured for him to come to the dining table, setting out his food and yours. while eating, he caught up with you about what he was doing before he ended up with you. the things going on in his life and the movies he had planned to film soon, movies you had already seen. elvis was happier when discussing his music and how much he missed performing, he was happy to hear he does manage to get out there and perform in vegas. you just skipped the part where he was overworked and unhappy. seeing him so excited made you feel bad. you dreaded having that conversation with him. as much as you didn't want to admit it, you hoped he'd return to his life before you'd ever have to explain his future.

unless, you could do something to stop it. to make him change his ways. you've read the books, you know what's going on at this point in his life. what about the pills? was he still on those? he doesn't even know about the colonel yet. god, so many things he doesn't know. it's killing you that he doesn't know.

you make a plan. if you wake up and he's still here, you'll tell him everything. you'll answer any questions he might have. you needed to keep him away from a phone and from a computer, which you hadn't introduced him to yet. worst case scenario, you get him a phone but set a child lock so he won't have access to google. he can't learn all of this on his own.

“i really hate to ask this. i’m not one to ask favors, is there anyway i can sleep here tonight? i-if i’m still here tomorrow i-well, you can help me find a hotel room. i-if that's okay with you, of course. i didn't really mean to intrude.” elvis finally asked, almost embarrassed to be asking for any sort of favor. he was normally asked for favors, not the one asking for one.

“you don't even have to ask!” you replied a little too excitedly. the idea of elvis presley sleeping in your apartment was almost a dream come true. “i can lend you some of my ex’s clothes, he should still have some here somewhere….”

“oh, an ex?” he wiggled his eyebrows. “who'd wanna break up with someone as pretty as you?”

you blushed, fiddling with your sleeve. glad to see he didn't lose his flirtatious charms during his trip. “i’ll um…find you something to wear.” you stuttered out as you got up quickly, rushing off to find him something for the night.

elvis let out a small laugh, getting up and wandering around your apartment, taking in all the photos and books you had lying around. he picked up one from the shelf, shocked at the sight of his face on the cover. he read the back and opened the front cover, curious to find out what his future holds.

and thank god you walked in when you did. you ran over to him, snatching the book from his hands and replacing it with clothes. “they're not really your style but i’m sure they'll still fit!”

“i’ll make it work, thanks hon. bathroom?”

you pointed across the hall, giving him thumbs up as he walked away. as soon as there was a click of the bathroom door, you immediately took all the elvis books from your shelf and ran to your room to hide them somewhere. you opted for shoving them all in a box in your closet.

he came back out, looking down at himself. “i don't look awful.” he shrugged.

you turned around, “if you're here tomorrow maybe we can buy you some clothes somehow.”

“what if i’m not here tomorrow?”

you'd be sad. “well–then you're not here.” you replied as confidently as you could. “so, the bed situation…..i can sleep on the couch. you can take my bed.”

elvis rolled his eyes, “why can't we sleep in the same bed?”

you laughed awkwardly, shuffling your feet. “that's-that's not happening. sorry.”

elvis looked back at your room then back at you, a concerned look on his face. it was almost like he was afraid to sleep. but oh, you've read about this. you know what he's worried about.

“i don't have anything for sleep, if that's what you're concerned about.”

he looked at you sadly, “i’ll just….figure it out. it's fine.” he wished you didn't know about that. it made him wonder what else you possibly knew.

“you're welcome to any of the books on my shelf.” you pointed back, “they may not be up your alley but…i know you love reading.”

he nodded, “appreciate it.”

there was an awkward silence between the two of you. standing there uncomfortably, waiting for someone to move or say something. there was no way to say good night. you both knew you may not see each other in the morning but it was obvious neither of you wanted to bring it up. “soo….” you shoved your hands in your pockets, rocking on your feet.

“well, thanks. good night.” elvis finally said, giving you a small smile. you watched as he headed to your bedroom, wondering if that would be the last time you'd ever see him. he turned once more, “thank you for bein' so kind to me. i’ll be prayin’ for you.” he gave you one final nod and shut the door behind you.

you tossed and turned on the couch all night. not because it was uncomfortable, because you couldn't stop staring at your bedroom door. was elvis still behind that door? you wondered if he was able to fall asleep–especially knowing his history with insomnia. he was without his pills and you had nothing laying around the house, he must have been tossing and turning all night too.

regrets were playing through your mind too. there were things you wish you could have said to him, to warn him and maybe show him how loved he still is. maybe he could have changed his ways if he knew it all before he went back. his ‘i’ll be prayin’ for you’ was on a loop in your head the entire time. he was just so kind, even throughout this weird situation he was in.

you weren't much of a spiritual person but for the first time in a long time, you prayed too.

[forabeatofadrum]

Hello and happy Sunday to you all. Thank you @confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for the tags, and a tag back to @aroace-genderfluid-sheep.

My Klaine fic is still being written. Toffee the hamster has been found, but it's taking a while to finish it. An anon did give me a title idea, namely The Class Menagerie, and anon, I love you for it,

In other fic related news, I started posting Dancin' on that bamboo ceiling, the fic series that explores Asian identity and racism through Glee, while also trying to find a way to place glee's own racism towards its Asian characters. I was quite nervous to post it and a bit stressed. So stressed that I straight up confused Mike and Wes in one of my summaries and in the series' summary I accidentally wrote that Mike moved to China, not from China. Oops. It's been fixed. Five fics are posted and I am not at all surprised that the Klaine-centric one has the most hits, since people still prefer shippy fics over gen fics. I just hope these Klainers (hi!!) are encouraged to also read the others.

I am also nervous because I don't want to come off as if I am speaking for everyone yada yada. I did add the disclaimer that I am one sole person writing this and I am also alway open for more feedback, but it feels so nerve wracking. I usually write for me and me alone, but not this time, I guess. And even so, I am one Chinese person and damnit China is big. Catch me frantically googling whether people in Hubei speak Mandarin or something else etc. (Which I knew the answer to, cause my sister is from Hubei, but I'm just so nervous!!!) (This is also why I remember that Mike's family is from Hubei.)

Also some things in Glee are so fucking stupid. I am already thinking about changing something in Blaine's chapter so it lines up with canon, but I am still trying to explain why Tina's last name is Cohen-Chang.

Writing this fic is uhhhh A Lot, since I am delving deep into the racism that I have experienced and also the stories of other Asian people who I have spoken to about this. (JY, Todd, I haven't seen y'all in literal years, but you're in this fic.) (I do still talk to Cilla regularly.) (And a shout-out to my sister who constantly has to deal with people saying "she is too pretty to be Chinese"!). I am excited to explore this and I keep thinking about things I can add, but it is heavy, as you might expect. I do try to keep some humour and joy in it, because unlike Glee, I also want to show that being Asian can be fun and can lead to connection. I am looking forward to Mike, Tina, Wes, Blaine and Yu-Jin being friends! Here's a more upbeat part of the sad shit that I shared recently:

"Yes, yes, yes!" Yu-Jin cheers when Mike and Wes step inside the bedroom, both wearing a tangzhuang. "God, if only my grandparents could see me now," Wes says as he studies himself in the mirror. "Tina's making photo's," Blaine says. Tina's new phone has the best camera of them all and she'll send the photos to the others later. She definitely wants to save the mirror selfies that she made with Yu-Jin. Tina's hanbok has become to small and it's straining her in places, but she loves the way she looks and that's what matters.

And now, the weather: @quizasvivamos @blurglesmurfklaine @coffeegleek @esperantoauthor @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @captain-aralias @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @moodandmist @whogaveyoupermission @bookish-bogwitch @ionlydrinkhotwater @1908jmd @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen ​ @artsyunderstudy ​ @martsonmars ​ @facewithoutheart ​ @shrekgogurt @boyinjeans @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites @blackberrysummerblog @whatevertheweather

[thestarsarecool]

Cilla Black, London, 1964. Photographed by Paul McCartney

[Paul looks at a photo of Cilla Black] “Cilla, oh my gosh! Of course, when you get to my age now, so many of the people who feature in the book have passed away. And I would never have thought one of them would be Cilla. She was a little cloakroom girl in The Cavern, so for some reason I just thought she would easily outlast me. In my head, she's still just a young woman, you know?

But people have passed. They have sadness in their lives, they get ill and stuff. But it's still lovely to see her again: there she is, our Cilla. She was a great, fun character with a lovely distinctive voice.”

— Paul McCartney, “You Gave Me The Answer – ‘Eyes of the Storm’ Exhibition and Book Special,” Published June 18th 2023.

[lindszeppelin]

So I have a *thought.* Feel free to delete if you aren't interested in this type of discourse, but:

I think all the people who claim that Austin Butler looks nothing like Elvis aren't giving credit to the fact that in the movie, he actually does. I'm not just saying this because I love Elvis and I think he did a great job in his portrayal, but I think in the movie he really does look quite a bit like him. Now, in real life, he obviously doesn't. However. However. I think if Austin Butler looked in real life the way he does in the movie, people wouldn't complain that he doesn't look like Elvis. Does that make sense? Like, if he rolled out of bed with the face and body he has in the '68 Special, people would be like, "Yeah, that guy looks perfect." I'm not discounting the work that he obviously put in to transform for the movie, or saying that looking exactly like someone is a requirement for playing them in a biopic (I don't think Joaquin Phoenix resembles Johnny Cash THAT much, but he's very good in Walk The Line). But I feel like a lot of the social media complaints come from people looking at a photo of him from a red carpet or something, deciding he doesn't resemble Elvis, and then discounting his performance because of it. Which was great. I'm mostly an Elvis fan and had no idea who he was before the film, so I wouldn't have loved it if he hadn't been great in it.

I guess I'm a little disappointed that there was finally a really amazing film about Elvis, and now people are going back retroactively to complain because everyone else is doing it. Like, I feel like a lot of them weren't complaining about it last year. I don't know, just my vaguely annoyed two cents.

I think it's also important to remember that Austin had a few years to get into character, and he had an outstanding prosthetics team. Elordi does not look like Elvis, just because he's a white guy with dark brown hair people wanna say he does. Idk if this Priscilla movie had the actors wear prosthetics of any kind, but considering this film wasn't given the extensive amount of prep work and dedication that Elvis 2022 did i would probably say there wasn't prosthetics.

and mind you, the prosthetics in Elvis 2022 were subtle. but hell, back when Austin was doing early prep and they had him dye his hair black you can see on the Once Upon A Time carpet that he looks incredible. And that's just with dyed hair. Both men on their own don't look like Elvis but Austin with the black hair and in the movie is outstanding.

and i'll finish by saying that even his own family like LMP and Cilla had a hard time deciphering whether a scene in the movie was Elvis footage or if it was Austin. So there we go, if the Presley family is so impressed by Austin then there's really nothing else to say lol.

[elvisabutler]

Caught In A Trap ( 2/10 )

Fandom: Elvis (2022)

Relationship: Elvis/Living Past 42, past Priscilla/Elvis, current Priscilla and Elvis loving each other too much always

Word Count (this chapter): 2360ish

Rating: R, honestly this isn't gonna move below that rating I don't think.

TW: Talk of drug use for pain, pain in general, mention of character death, brief implication of self injury, it's sort of a blink and miss situation, drinking. Honestly it's all in the movie for the most part.

Author's Note: This is probably gonna be 10 parts or lower, I think. I have it plotted out, it's really just how I get to all the parts. Also apologies for the wait, literally have spent like the past week ish sick as a dog between me and my family. As always ask box is open, y'all know the drill.

Elvis is sure Jerry was not prepared to have him leaning on him as much as he is both on the way to the car and inside the car. Truth be told, Elvis himself hadn't really planned to lean as much as he was on the other man but his legs couldn't quite carry him in the way he needed and his body in general felt too heavy for him to lug around or sit up any straighter than he was. Still, it makes it easier for Elvis to listen to the other man as he explains everything in the letter he received.

Goddammit his mama had been right, they couldn't trust this Colonel. He should- everyone's warnings and even his own gut telling him something was off and every damn time he fell right back in snowed in and trapped like only a true Southern boy could be by that snow.

Elvis found himself squeezing the bridge of his nose and exhaling, "we could have done this back in '68. Or 69 or 70. Could have taken 'Cilla and Lisa to see Paris."

Might have helped smooth over some of the dumb things he's done. Could have reminded her that he was her husband and she was his wife- his gorgeous spitfire birdie.

"Yeah," Jerry shakes his head, "honestly, we could have done those dates in half the time we've been here in Vegas and the States. Probably had more money too, even with the deal."

"Don't remind me, Jerry." He spits the sentence out with a little more force than he means to. He knows he's a fool when it comes to business and letting the Colonel get away with what BB's told him time and and time again is highway robbery but he hates dealing with all those details now and he always has. Maybe now he ought to try and see what's going on.

Or not if the flash of pain slicing through his head causing him to roll his head to the opposite side. He should have had Dr. Nick give him something for his head at least. Maybe once they get to the hospital they'll give him something. They always do even if he has to make new pain to get something.

"Lay back, EP." Jerry mutters while looking out the window to see if any photographers are trying to catch a photo. He spots one but with Elvis' tilted the way he is, he's pretty sure they're safe. "We'll talk about it later. Can't have you passing out again before we get you inside. Not that sure I can hold up all of your weight."

If Elvis was a little more coherent and a little less exhausted, he might have punched Jerry in the arm for that- defended his eating habits and told the man he wasn't that much of a feather either. He isn't though and all he can muster up is a light kick to the shins and a mumbled and mildly slurred, "I know ya didn't just call m' fat."

The only response he gets is a deep laugh as they start to pull into the hospital. "Wouldn't dream of it. Priscilla might though."

It's hard to get Elvis into the building without anyone noticing but they've had to play this song and dance so many times that by now it's beginning to be an old hat to everyone and Elvis finds that he's always a little more thankful everything but tonight especially. His filter is gone and his temper is barely in check that he doesn't think he could handle a question about why he's here asked by someone with a camera shoved in his face. Why else would he be here? What dumbass question is that?

The ride up to his room is slower than he's used to but maybe it's just his perception of time feeling off. After all, they have to be moving faster than this goddamn snail's pace with him. What if it was something big that's got him this tired? Having them move like this would get him killed not that it mattered right now, he thought, because he's not dying he's just- he needs a break, one that he hasn't had for such a long time. Maybe he'll just go to sleep now, just until they get him settled in.

He hears The Colonel before he sees him in any capacity. His eyes barely open up at the tap of the cane and he knows he needs to sit up, get up and get the man out of his room but the idea seems like an impossible task. Jerry's voice sounds muffled but Elvis thinks he hears him say something about him being asleep and leave him be.

"Nonsense! He's being overdramatic! The showman never stops, hm?" Elvis can feel both the Coloniel's presence in body and feel his breath far too close to his face for comfort in the moment. The shiver that escapes his body is a mixture of disgust and actual chill and he tries to will his arm to move while mumbling.

It fails miserably and Elvis curses his own body for betraying him in the moment he needs it to be with him. Any other time was fine, but right now when he needs to be in fighting form to get this leech of a man away from him the betrayal just slices a knife right through him. Thankfully he hears the door open and a voice he's never heard- a new doctor he thinks- speak before is pulling Parker away with more force than is probably necessary.

"I know you're his manager, Mr. Parker, but he's not going to respond right now. I'll call security on you if you don't leave Mr. Presley be until tomorrow morning."

He hears the Colonel grumbling something about being a Colonel and trying to put up a resistance before blissful silence. He had almost forgotten what that sounds like.

He wakes up in Graceland- or at least what Graceland was a decade and a half ago. Right when his mama had been there and- he loves decorating his home, he does but there was something to be said about how his mama made it look. He can't actually be in Graceland, he's sure he was at the hospital in Las Vegas before he opened his eyes but seeing everything around him settles something in him, lulls him into believing this is real. He wants it to be real, wants for at least a moment to pretend he's this young again and his mama is still here and he can still fly away like he should to the Rock of Eternity.

He forces himself out of bed, trying to see if the whole house is looking like it used to and he finds himself almost immediately going to his mother's closet. He knows he shouldn't, remembers how he broke down leaning against her dresses as if the feel of them would bring her back but it's been so long and he still misses her. He misses all his girls, but his mama is the only one that isn't just a plane ride away. God, he should call Priscilla, have her bring over Lisa Marie. It feels like it's been an age since he's seen them.

"Elvis, is that you?" Elvis hears his mother's voice clear as day the moment he steps out of her closet and his knees just buckle underneath him. She's not real, this can't be real and yet that's her voice.

"Mama?" His throat feels as if there isn't a single drop of water in it and he swears he feels his eyes watering his vision is getting blurry enough that he hopes he's crying. He forces himself to swallow when he looks up to see her looking older than he remembers. "It's me."

Her smile lights up almost every fiber of his being, it's almost the same feeling he gets when little Lisa grins and giggles at him but somehow just different in the most subtle of ways. "You know you're not supposed to be in my closet. If you needed to find me you know where I am."

At home, six feet under and dead for longer than he likes to admit is his first thought before he let's out a huff of a laugh, "the kitchen, I know, Mama. Just wasn't sure about it today."

"You know better than to lie to me, boobie. You know I can tell." She moves her hand out to touch his face and Elvis leans in quicker than he thought he was capable of moving. He can feel the tears on his cheeks now, knowing that this isn't real and his mama isn't this old but if this is what his exhaustion is dreaming up he'll take it. He'll be this exhausted for just a little while longer just to see her and feel her comfort. "Get up off the floor, I can't give you a hug like that."

His bones protest the movement, creaking in ways they probably shouldn't and he sways just a little too much to where he stumbles just momentarily into the wall. Gladys is there to catch him though and the look on her face brings such a rush of shame in his body that he feels like a little boy getting in trouble for something major. "You shouldn't be moving like that."

"I'm older mama, pushing 40. My body just-" He finds himself being shushed and cut off all at once.

"That's nonsense, almost 40 or not my strong boy wouldn't be stumbling like that just from getting up. You haven't been drinking have you?"

There is an irony that isn't lost on Elvis and he has to bite his tongue to not back talk at his mother but he can't stop the way his lips purse just a bit and his upper lip inches toward a bit of a snarl before he answers her. "No, mama, you know I get mean when I drink anyway. I'm just tired and I'm in some pain."

A lot of pain, but he figures he was due for something that Dr. Nick would give him so that was to be expected even with his exhaustion- can't escape parts of his own body from acting up.

He feels her arms wrap around him. "You mean that pain they've got you on all those pills for, boobie?"

In the back of his mind he can hear himself singing that he's caught in a trap as he pulls away from her embrace to touch at her face and look at his mother. This isn't right, she shouldn't know about that, shouldn't know how bad it's been getting. This isn't real but he's so tired, who's she gonna tell?

"Yeah, mama, that pain. I've got it handled though-"

"For God's sake, boobie, I wish you wouldn't take all those pills, they can't be good for you." His mother pleads looking at him straight into his eyes. Hell, into his soul for all he knew.

He remembers telling her not to drink so much, how it wasn't good for her and he can't help the bark of a laugh that exits his throat with such ferocity that it startles him. Mama didn't need the alcohol, but he's pretty sure he needs at least some of these pills.

"Mama-"

"No, boobie, you know I'm right, you're losing yourself and I don't like seeing you like this."

His eyes narrow who did she think she was saying that to him of all people after she drank herself to death leaving him with his daddy and making it so he couldn't introduce her to Priscilla and her granddaughter. "I didn't like seeing you dead, Mama."

Her face looks hurt for a moment before she exhales slowly. "I was worried. I'm still worried. Promise me you'll cut back, Elvis. You might have the strength of two men but Jesse can't save you forever."

He wants to deny it but there's a part of him, small as it is that knows she's right. That Jesse might have been saving him all these years but the full moons are getting harder and harder to catch so to speak. Still, he doesn't know if he can, because it's hard- everything is starting to bust on him and he just wants a break. If he could just rest and reset he'd be fine, but he's gotta pay for Graceland and the Mafia.

His breath leaves his body in one swoop when he looks up at his mother through his lashes and he nods his head. "I'll try. At least a little."

Will he is the real question, but what's the harm in lying to his dead mother? It's not like she could be mad at him for it or hit him for it.

"Good, now let's head to the kitchen, boobie, I made your favorite." Gladys smiles and motions for him to follow her.

It's then that Elvis feels the pull of real life yanking him back against his will. He knew this was a dream but it was so nice that he just wanted to stay for a little while, just rest for a little while. Maybe if he just shuts his eyes it'll stay put just a little while longer.

He thinks he feels his eyes shut and feels his body become weightless as a bird before-

"What the hell?!"

[headfullofpresley]

on a similar note to your discussion about twitter i keep seeing the SAME tiktok where the girl is doing ‘dirtbags with teenagers’ - which is imo completely valid to call out but i find it wildly frustrating that she uses a photo of Elvis + Cilla’s wedding and labels them ‘14 and 24’ - i absolutely think that it was borderline creepy of their relationship to start - her moving + living at Graceland and still attending high school does give me the ick BUT in practically the same years my grandmother was also married + pregnant at 17 to a man quite a few years older than her and it was absolutely completely normal - it just WAS a different time then sorry 🤷🏼‍♀️- and it’s so frustrating for it be misconstrued as though they MARRIED at 14 + 24 when all of their own comments about it make it clear the relationship wasn’t like that until later. It just feels unfair when he can’t defend himself and when priscilla tries it’s dismissed - and if you DO try to defend them in the comments you get completely shut down! saw the similarity with the twitter convo and just took the chance to vent - sorry!!

don't be sorry, you're welcome to vent :)

personally, their age gap never bothered me or gave me the ick or whatever, because it was consensual. priscilla was in love and people oftend tend to forget that not every girl in a relationship with someone older was/is being groomed. i've been in a similar relationship when i was younger so i would be a hypocrite if i would sit here and say that such a relationship isn't okay.

this is why i'm never on tiktok either LOL. i go on there very rarely and when i do, it's to watch dumb videos of people doing dumb things when i need a good laugh. when i come across elvis edits, i don't even open the comment section because i just know it's a mess in there.

i truly hate the internet sometimes. people need to go outside and get a hobby.

[rodeoromeo]

So I've looked into George's friendships with women a bit and there def were limitations for various reasons. 1. A general lack of women in these spaces bc of the male domination of the time. Female musicians and comedians in the areas George liked were also more likely to be American. 2. The cultural aspect of the guys hang with the guys and the ladies hang with the ladies. 3. A mixture of George's friendships being intense and him being a whore, making platonic relationships with women tricky.

But! He did have some lovely female friendships. Astrid ofc, Freda Kelly, Chris O'Dell, Lakshmi Shankar, Cilla Black, Ronnie Spector, Mary Wilson, Beth Chatto (gardener), Yvonne Innes (gardener and wife of Neil Innes), Carinthia West (photographer), Vicki Brown, Jenny Boyd, and Pattie, Maureen, Linda were always close. He was also super close to his sister-in-law Irene and there's this interesting story of a Russian lady named Natalya Sazanova who taught him Hindi in India: harrisonstories /post/187842182188/in-this-photo-natalya-sazanova-is-on-the-far

Anyways, obvs not the *same* as what he had with men but I feel like in a way George might've had more female friendships than John and Paul bc they were so invested in their wives and he and Olivia were friends with a bunch of other married couples. O'Dell's friendship with him is particularly interesting bc she refused to sleep with him out of loyalty to Pattie. She had potential to be one of his deeper friends but unfortunately had her own issues to sort out.

Sorry for the essay lmao but in case anyone was curious!

very interesting research!!!! thanks for sharing!!!!

[justasmallbloginabigklainefandom]

Library!!! It’s been a while. There is a separate photo for Midnights cause I only had it for 3 days. And uhhhh sorry to my friend Cilla, but I didn’t like the album so I am not missing it.

I finished Queer Up and I need to mention that RTD’s afterword shook me to the core. The rest of the book was just fine, so his chapter hit me like a gutpunch and I made everyone at my local Queer HQ depressed. I also finished Easy Asian Cooking and Illegal. Illegal was another gutpunch. Little Women is done too. It was fine. I am around idk 70% into In het licht and I like it a lot.

I am very eager to read A Marvellous Light/A Restless Truth. I didn’t know my library had them. I have had my eyes on them for a while, so hooray. Yet I want to read One True Loves first, since I need to hand that in earlier. Also ALSO the Tosti book and the graphic novel of The Titan’s Curse are finally here! I reserved them back in January, I think, so it’s been a while.

[babblingstacey]

So after putting down my BabblingLegacy for (checks calendar) 7 months, I picked it back up again this past weekend because I'm at least a week ahead in Yvette's story and wanted to wait to see what the patch fix was before going further. I decided to age up the girls to teens - that's Maeve on the left, Cilla on the right.

Unfortunately, Ciara's house that I lovingly built was corrupted - probably from deleting a bunch of CC I guess. So I just decided to move them over to a new save because I was dying to play in @ratboysims's gorgeous new save, which means the the family tree is lost but I at least could move the graveyard over so I have all of the graves & photos. I spent a lot of Ciara's work revisiting all the old houses so it was a nice goodbye.

So I decided to build them a new house, trying to copy my original one.

I think my first version is better on the inside but I also spent less time on it this time(and have less CC to use on it)

To catch up on the family, Ciara (Evil, Cheerful, Snob, Self-Absorbed, Self-Assured) is nearly complete with her goals - she just needs to reach the top of her Secret Agent Villain career. She is married to Jerome (Kleptomaniac, Geek, Music Lover, Evil, Hot-Headed) and owns Loki (Clever, Territorial, Lazy). Ciara's half sister Ebony (Cheerful, Family Oriented, Maker, Loves Cats, Paranoid) lives with them - she was a nanny to the girls when they were younger and is looking for love but hasn't found it yet.

More about the girls in the next post.

(ETA - my draft posted before I could edit it. Ugh)

[septembersghost]

I honestly can’t wait for the Priscilla movie. It’s going to ruffle feathers but it’s the perfect subject matter for Sofia and I don’t see her blowing it. The set photos didn’t look great lmao but I hope it translates better on film. I also hope it finally clears up the misinformation re Elvis and Priscilla!

it's hard to judge by set photos, especially with a smaller film like this that isn't having extensive (intentionally pleasing!) photography taken, because nothing is really complete/finished the way that it ought to look. it definitely could translate far better on film. sofia tends to have such a strong handle on perspective and female experiences, so that should come through here. it's neat too since cilla wasn't a focal point of the luhrmann film (as lovely as olivia was, that wasn't the central relationship they focused on. i'd have liked more of her tbh! but then again...where is my four hour cut baz? i'm never letting it go), so having her pov and the experience of that whirlwind is a story entirely unto itself. i'd like to see it tackle and clear up some of the widespread misinformation about them too, i really hope it achieves that and lends sympathy to them both.

[carlyscilla]

hi everyone!! wanted to do a little introduction of myself with one of my favourite outfits i’ve done so far!! the honeymoon look!🤍

for the ones who know me from my instagram, you’ve seen all the other looks i’ve done so far on there so if you aren’t following, make sure you follow @carlyscilla on instagram! i would really appreciate it loves!🤍

anyways, remembering this iconic look that priscilla wore on the plan to her and elvis’s honeymoon getaway!

wanted to share this spooky story, this picture right here (first slide) is the one that has the “orb” looking shape in it. as it is on the right of me in the picture and believe it or not, is the only picture it appeared in. then looking at the one of elvis and cilla in the second slide, it is shown that elvis is on the right side of her. wow what are the chances!!👼

i have the original photo in the third slide as well as it’s in its original colour. no matter with the filter or not….it still appears. anyways loves, wether you believe in it or not i just wanted to share this special moment with you all!!

i have had this spiritual gift ever since i was 4 according to my parents, that i am able to feel when a spirit is around and sometimes who they are!! as well as getting signs!! i’ve received many signs from many different spirits in my life but sometimes when they are noticeable at specific times…that’s when it hits close to the heart.🫶🏻

could it be? is it ep? possibly!

#priscillapresely #priscillapreselytribute #priscillahoneymoon #sixtiesfashion #elvistok #honeymoon ##priscillapresleyinspired #priscillapresleyhair #priscillapresleymakeup #elvisandpriscilla #elvisandpriscillapresley #thepresleys #priscillabeaulieu #memphistennessee #countrymusic #countryandwestern #memphistennessee #tupelomississippi #sunstudios #sunstudio #bealestreet #vivalasvegas #elvispresleyforever #elvispresleysgraceland #visitgraceland #elvismovie #elvisfans

[sherifftillman]

💌

cilla! fellow ben schwartz sister wife (gn x2) <333

i love how talented you are!! with your gifmaking and your photo editing. and your taste in celebrities is impeccable ;D

mutuals send a 💌 and i'll tell you what i love about you!

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison with Alla Rakha (photograper unnamed), Carl Perkins (screenshot from the Blue Suede Shoes TV special), Julian Lennon (photo by Richard Young), Paul McCartney (screenshot from Living In The Material World), Ringo Starr (photo © UPPA/Starstock), Damon Hill (maybe - AP didn't specify; photo by Nick Wilson), Tom Petty (photo by Reed Saxon), Olivia (photo by Terry O'Neill), and Dhani (screenshot from Living In The Material World).

“I went to the Cavern and saw the walls wet with condensation, but not very often because I was at home with the baby. But I remember George Harrison coming around to our house a couple of times to keep me company when The Beatles weren’t playing because he knew I was left out. That was nice of him.” - Lil Evans, Mal’s wife, The Ray Connolly Beatles Archive, April 2005

“I liked him because he was down-to-earth. After Brian [Epstein] died, he was particularly comforting to me.“ - Joanne Petersen, Brian Epstein’s secretary, PomsinOz, 20 August 2007 (x)

“George Harrison comforted Harry Nilsson’s widow [at Nilsson’s funeral] by expressing to her his belief, his fervent belief that life does continue, that physical life may end but there is a spiritual presence. I remember how Harry Nielsen’s widow was genuinely comforted by this serious and passionate belief that George had.” - Martin Lewis, CNN, 1 December 2001

“[George] sought me out in the paddock at the British Motorcycle Grand Prix at Donington Park some eight years ago. My wife Beth, a big Beatles fan, had died of cancer two months earlier. Somehow he had heard the news, and he wanted to say how sorry he was. I was astonished he knew, and that he had made the effort to find me. It lifted my spirits at a very difficult time.” - Andrew Marriott, F1 Supporters Association, 6 December 2001

“[George had] sent me a book and a mantra [when Bobby died]. It was a rather personal mantra, so I’d rather not say what it was, but he suggested I say this to myself during the funeral to comfort me. I must admit, it got me through the day. He also put a note in with the book saying, ‘From your old mate George’ and in brackets he’d added 'Harrison.’ Which was rather funny — as if I might not know it was from him!" - Cilla Black, The Mirror, December 2001

“[Kirchherr] last saw George Harrison in mid-2001, months before he died, when he invited her to [Friar Park] for a last weekend with his family. ‘I remember we had a little walk in his park, and I was so full of love and joy to be with him that I cried,’ she says. ‘He said, “You must not cry, I will always look after you.” He had no fear. No fear whatsoever. I miss his presence, but I’ve got the feeling he’s still around me.’" - Peter Fetterman Gallery, Artists: Astrid Kirchherr

“George was the kind of guy who wasn’t going to leave until he hugged you for five minutes and told you how much he loved you.” - Tom Petty, Rolling Stone, 17 January 2002

“I miss George very much, he was a person I had a great connection with. When he was in hospital undergoing treatment, which was making him physically ill, he was still cracking jokes to make us feel better.” - Olivia Harrison, Liverpool Echo, 5 March 2003 (x)