f you people who post porn in the tags "sfw interaction only" like wtf that is not what it means?? please stop rubbing your body with your hands i dont want to see that i seriously searched the tag "sfw agere" and porn came up??? im going to cry cuz im scared im gonna get in trouble cuz that's on my search history but i did all i could to not see that stuff?? tumblr KNOWS im a minor yet they do this shit to me im really scared guys im gonna get in trouble because they thought i was looking at naked girls NO!! naked girls appeared on my screen and it's not my fault!!!!!!
fuck you in particular if you post nsfw with absolutely no or one tag or put "sfw only" in the tags intentionally
small rant about 5 seconds of a silly kids cartoon from the 60's and a ship
I'm having emotions. George sounds so sweet idk why. That adorable little chuckle. i want him. Also Ringo looks so.. enamored!!!! like they would just kiss right then and there lmaoo
no like they're so in love. people talk about mclennon all the time but i don't see enough starrison rants
yeah this cartoon was a shitshow but it's my shitshow and it actually kinda provides comfort for me in a weird way. like. ringo gives kitty cat vibes and george gives kitty cat lover vibes (not in a zo0philic way lmao)
starrison gives me a weird itch in my brain idk why. i just really really enjoy this dynamic. yeah yeah they (probably) weren't like that irl (i dont watch much of them irl someone fill me in if i lost details) but in this show, chemistry is there. maybe they could be queerplatonic like john and paul or sumthin idfk
idk they are just my blorbos and i project a lot of things on them i guess
This is a blog post I’ve been meaning to write for several years, but it’s one that’s fraught with difficulties, because I’m going to attemp
Just some food for thought via Andrew Hickey, who also happens to be the writer/music historian responsible for A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs, one of the only podcasts I can stand to listen to:
The thing that clued me in to Elvis’ neurodivergence, that unlocked this for me, was Sam Phillips talking about signing Elvis. Phillips is often quoted as having wanted “a white man who can sing like a Black man”, but when you listen to the earliest recordings of Elvis, there’s no sensible way anyone could have thought of him that way. What Phillips *actually* said was that “his insecurity was so markedly like that of a Black person.” In particular, in the South at that point, Black people didn’t look white people in the eye. Nor did Elvis.
Both Phillips and Carl Perkins said that Elvis was the most introverted person ever to enter a recording studio, in more or less those exact words.
As a young man, Elvis had very few real friends. He was extremely close to his parents, especially his mother, with whom he almost had a private language and could communicate in a way he couldn’t with anyone else, but had difficulty making friends his own age. He would often hang out with people like Johnny and Dorsey Burnette, who lived nearby. They would bully him, but they’d let him stand on the edge of the group and sing when they were singing.
Later in life, Elvis would surround himself with the “Memphis Mafia”, a group of people to whom he was intensely loyal, even though they were mostly taking advantage of him.
Elvis was known for being constantly in movement, fingers twitching and legs tapping all the time.
He was extremely poor at emotional regulation, and could swing wildly in mood.
He was a very naturally talented actor, who could lose himself in a role (though he was never given the chance to grow).
Before becoming a singer, he worked for a time as an electrician, but he was very bad at it. He kept giving himself electric shocks, and once said it was a miracle none of the houses he worked on had burned down.
He was very into martial arts, which he liked because it allowed him a sense of control over his body.
Some of his stage costumes in the seventies were patterned on his favourite comic-book character, Captain Marvel Jr.
He was a voracious reader and would bring three trunks filled with books on tour with him.
His famous hip-shaking actually started as nerves — he was trembling the first time he was on stage, and it made his baggy trouser legs shake, which the audience took as intentional.
He watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail thirty-five times, and could quote it from memory. He was also a particular fan of Peter Sellers.
He had a highly restricted diet, and had specific issues with textures — food had to be prepared a particular way, with bacon almost burned and eggs hard, and he would eat particular combinations of food many other people found disgusting. People to this day mock him for his taste for peanut-butter, bacon, and banana sandwiches.
He had real problems with sleeping — he was naturally nocturnal, and often had to rely on medical help to get onto a somewhat-diurnal schedule. Even with pharmaceutical help he rarely slept more than three hours at a time.
He had bad skin — the thing people note most about him as a young man was that he had terrible acne on his neck.
He had a near-photographic memory, and would learn and retain a song after hearing it only once. He had an encyclopaedic knowledge of music.
And perhaps most importantly, for much of the last few years of his life he was chronically ill but didn’t present that way. The prescription drug use for which he became notorious after his death was a combination of things to treat his sleep problems, and pain medication. The thing that eventually killed him was not his lifestyle, as reported — he had a variety of genetic, stress-related, inflammatory and autoimmune conditions which made him put on weight, including the hypertension that led to his eventual heart attack. These seem to have been inherited from his mother (who also died in her forties). Again, it’s not a formal diagnostic criterion of autism that one has autoimmune problems, but anecdotally the *vast* majority of autistic people have them (there’s a reason the average life expectancy for an autistic person is fifty-four).
But the pain medication… Elvis told his doctors, for years, that he was in a huge amount of pain. They thought he was faking, because he didn’t “act like” someone in pain — they thought he was after drugs. So sometimes he was prescribed real opiates, but other times he would be given placebos, made to look like the drugs that worked. When those didn’t work, he took more of them, so when he got the real stuff he took more than he should, which made the doctors believe he was just after drugs…
After his death, when those same doctors re-examined X-rays of him, it was obvious he had arthritis, and had really been in unspeakable agony for years. But he’d just not seemed like he was in pain to the doctors. He didn’t act how a person in pain “should” act.
Again, nobody who isn’t neurodivergent will read the above and be convinced. But I think if you’ve any experience of the neurodivergent community, you’re going to read that, and come to the same conclusion as me.
I actually think this is interesting that Elvis might have had autism cause I heard David Bowie might have had autism too so it’s a possibility that Elvis might have had autism. This is very interesting I’m glad I read it.
Imagine us just holding little E on our lap and bouncing him like we're "playing horsey" with him.
Oh gosh! He LOVES being bounced. If he laughs too much he sometimes spits up if we play right after he's had a bottle but usually it doesn't bother him
Okay, just...imagine us taking baby E to a little-friendly pool or splash pad. He'd just love the water.
I'd see him being a little unsure of it at first but as soon as we splash him a bit and get his hands wet, he realizes it's just like bath time but with a lot more things to play with! he's pretty clingy to us in the water but he'd be happy and giggly all day
jeeeeerrrrrryyyyyy jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry cg jerry jerry jerry jerry he's the love of my life jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry love jerryyyyy
i need cg jerry
i have a burning urge for cg jerry pleaaasseeee cg jerry i dont care what it is make sure it's cg jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry jerry
jerry is so bbg pleaaaseeeee cg jerry please please pretty please with whipped cream and chocolate syrup and rainbow star shaped sprinkles and a cherry on top and one of those plastic rings in those cupcakes you can get but it has tcb on the ringgggg please cg jerry
cupcake for a sweetie pie | little reader x cg!jerry schilling (wc: 604) - A/N: this was an adorable ask, so i decided to run with it. also keep in mind that i am literally jumping into this completely blind, as there is no info about jerry on the internet or in fics. so, enjoy my shitty first attempt at cg!jerry :-)
Elvis knew you before Jerry did.
He had originally spotted you with the intention of dating you, but he quickly saw your kind nature and knew that he couldn't end up breaking a heart as sweet as yours. Enter Jerry.
You lived at Graceland with Jerry, Elvis and the rest of the Memphis Mafia and their wives. While you liked never being alone, it could also get annoying because you were, well...never alone.
It so happened that this little adventure started because Elvis had told your papa that he intended on "letting go" of some of the Mafia members, and he didn't want you in the house to hear the commotion. Throwing his wallet and jacket at your very confused caregiver, Elvis ushered the two of you out of the mansion.
Rather than wandering around aimlessly, Jerry decided to take you to a quaint little mainstreet, lined with small shops and cafes. It was a delightful day; sunny, but not sticky, and bright without being too unbelievably hot. The sun (quite literally) shined as the both of you walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand, you tucked into Jerry's side. You'd stop and peer into a window display every now and then, but nothing caught your eye. That was, until you spotted a small bakery called Kutie Pies. The outside was pink and yellow, with mint green details that reminded you of the Cadillac Elvis had gifted you…even though you didn't drive.
As you halted dead in the middle of the sidewalk and let go of your carer's hand, Jerry exclaimed, "baby, you can't just sto-"
"Papa, can we please, please, PLEEEEASE go in? Look at all those yummy treats! I wanna get somethin' for Uncle Elvie and the girls! Maybe some of your friends would want a treat too!" Jerry paused, and gave a quiet laugh under his breath. You looked adorable, bouncing on your toes, doing what looked like barely-contained jazz hands, and literally jittering with excitement. He wanted to say no for fear of not having enough cash to pay for all of it, but then remembered that he had his boss' wallet. Free reign!
"Alright, jitterbug. We'll go in. BUT, you have to pick out something real nice for papa. Can you do that?" You nodded your head, grabbed Jerry's hand, and whipped around into the shop.
You bounded up to the counter, practically dragging your poor papa behind you. Standing on your tip-toes, you looked over the high glass counter. The older woman on the other side, with rosy cheeks and big glasses, gave you a smile.
'"Hey honey! What can I getchya?" Surprisingly, she didn't recognize either of you. Mildly disturbed by this, you looked to Jerry, who encouragingly responded "go on, and tell the nice lady what you want."
You decided to order a few different kinds of cupcakes for the Mafia, some fancy cookies for their wives, and a lunchbox cake with a pretty flower on it for Jerry. Then it came time to order for yourself. Jerry had left you to your own devices, and was instead looking at every single pastry the bakery had to offer. In your best manners, you asked, "could I also please have a extra big chocolate cupcake with whipped cream, chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles, with a cherry on top?"
Jerry, overhearing your order, speed-walked over to you.
"Little, don't you think that's a lot of sugar for one cupcake?" He chuckled as he shot a nervous glance to the baker, who gave him a small smile and a shrug. "Nope!" You responded, popping the P. "You can never have too much sugar!"
…Proving yourself wrong, you spent the next 24 hours running around Graceland, hopped up on sugar.
didn’t like any of the font options. anyway, ti prisento calla del rey🧸
(all photos taken by me, with the exception of 1 & 2)
photo 3: shrine of the virgin mary at st. patrick’s cathedral in new york
photo 4: a snow day shot from my bedroom window
photo 5: me and a mural of elvis, taken at my favorite diner <3
photo 6: my wedding ring, designed by EPE🤭
photo 7: walter, my TTWG sock monkey, that comes with me on every adventure
photo 8: the vinyl-blutooth-radio-casette-cd record player that has my heart
photo 9: my personal favorite pair of saddle shoes :-)
(tagging cause i wanna see y’all’s take on this: @kiankiwi @arianatheangel-girl @mooodyblue @lookingforrainbows @hooked-on-elvis @karel-in-wonderland @alienelvisobsession @ash-omalley @bunnydexterloveselvis )
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