#Sings My Generation

[rastronomicals]

2:53 PM EDT May 15, 2024:

The Who - "A Legal Matter" From the album Sings My Generation (April 1966)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

US title and US release date. You can see the British cover below

File under: Maximum R & B

--

[muffinlance]

Read "Suki, Alone". Liked it in general. But can they please, please hire someone who knows both the show's actual events and how to follow through on a character arc? Because guys. Guys. That comic is not implying about Suki what they meant it to be implying, and all because of literally one line.

So like. From a writer's standpoint:

What they meant to do: show Suki as a community-oriented person who cares for her people, and believes in everyone succeeding together.

As opposed to (spoilers): the thief girl they set her up in contrast with, who's pretty upfront and consistent on primarily looking out for herself. She betrays Suki for one (1) corn chip to improve her own life at the prison, no surprise.

But the problem is: they give Suki an inspirational line to the effect of "we're all working together and we'll all break out together"

You know

The thing she does not do in the show

So if both the show and this comic are canon, then instead of setting up a compare/contrast with the thief girl, they've just set up a comparison. One were Suki is arguably worse, because she's been leading a significant number of prisoners on with her "we'll all fight and win our freedom together!" business, only to straight up cut them out of the escape loop and abandon them, whereas the thief is only leading Suki on in the sense that Suki keeps telling her what it's morally correct to think and confuses snide replies with agreement

My dudes. My fellow writers. You people actually being paid for this. There were so many ways to fix those awful implications against our girl's character, the simplest of which would be to not include that line. Or they could have, you know, made it canon compliant with what actually happens in the show, so that this comic doesn't set Suki up as a betrayer instead of a community builder. Like... just send all her good prison buddies off to other prisons in the wake of the warden finding out they're colluding. Have it timed to be right before the next new prisoners arrive, thus setting it immediately before the Boiling Rock episodes, so Suki didn't have anyone left in the prison she'd want to take with her on a breakout. For bonus points, include a page or two of her and her Kyoshi warriors opening up the cell of one of her prison friends post-war, thus implying she's tracking down and actually fulfilling her promises. Maybe even show her doing the same with thief girl, who was established as being imprisoned on false charges anyway, and also showing that Suki is A) the bigger person, and B) willing to acknowledge her own role in mistakes (because I cannot emphasize enough how much thief girl was not hiding her own priorities, and it was Suki who approached HER with all this, not the girl ever doing anything special to weasel her way in) (this would also open up an opportunity for paralleling Suki's earlier in-comic mistake of not listening to one of her friend's very valid thoughts and feeling, which lead to the girl leaving their island alone pre-canon; a "seeing people as they are, not what you want them to be" moment)

Anyway yeah enjoyable enough for a quick read but another one for the "this can't be canon or the characters are So Much Worse than they were in the actual show" pile

At least Aang didn't promise to murder anyone in this one

[notbecauseofvictories]

My best friend and I had a call recently---she’s back with her family for a bit helping out with some hometown stuff. As part of the stuff, she’s been going through a (deceased) relative’s scrapbook, compiled in the American Midwest circa 1870-1900 and featuring mostly cut-out figures from the ads of the day.

She talked about how painstaking this relative’s work was. (Apparently the relative was careful to cut out every finger, every cowlick; this was by no means carelessly or hastily assembled.) But she also she talked about how---the baby on the baking soda ad is ugly, it is so ugly, why anyone would clip this heinously ugly illustrated baby and paste it into a scrapbook? Why would you save the (terribly told, boring) ghost story that came with your box of soap?

(Why include these things in the first place? we asked each other. ”There’s a kind of anti-capitalism to it,” she mused.)

And we discussed that for a bit---how most of the images, stories, artists, and ads were local, not national; they’re pulled from [Midwestern state] companies’ advertisements in [Midwestern state] papers, magazines, and products. As a consequence, you’re not looking at Leyendecker or Norman Rockwell illustrations, but Johann Spatz-Smith from down the road, who took a drawing class at college.

(College is the state college, and he came home on weekends and in the summer to help with the farm or earn some money at the plant.)

But it also inspired a really interesting conversation about how---we have access to so much more art, better and more professional art, than any time in history. As my bff said, all you have to do to find a great, technically proficient and lovely representational image of a baby, is to google the right keywords. But for a girl living in rural [Midwestern state] of the late 1800s, it was the baking soda ad, or literal actual babies. There was no in-between, no heading out to the nearby art museum to study oil paintings of mother and child, no studying photographs and film---such new technologies hadn’t diffused to local newspapers and circulars yet, and were far beyond the average person’s means. But cheap, semi-amateur artists? Those were definitely around, scattered between towns and nearby smallish cities.

It was a good conversation, and made me think about a couple things---the weird entitlement that “professional” and expensive art instills in viewers, how it artificially depresses the appetite for messy unprofessional art, including your own; the way that this makes your tastes narrower, less interesting, less open.

By that I mean---maybe the baby isn’t ugly! Maybe you’ve just seen too many photorealistic babies. Maybe you haven’t really stopped to contemplate that your drawing of a baby (however crude, ugly, or limited) is the best drawing of a baby you can make, and the act of drawing that lumpen, ugly baby is more sacred and profoundly human than even looking at a Mary Cassatt painting.

And even if that isn’t the case....there was this girl in [American Midwestern state] for whom it was very, very important that she capture every finger, curl, and bit of shading for that ugly soap ad baby. And some one hundred years later, her great-something-or-other took pains to preserve her work---because how terribly human it is, to seek out all the art we can find that resonates with us, preserve it, adore it.

It might be the most human impulse we have.

[staticstratosphere]

all alone on a friday night? never again!

[plant-ago]

An original work written for The Wizard, the Witch, and the Wild One (@worldsbeyondpod).

Refrain:

Oh, my roots, grow gentle Oh, my words, go free Go where the world is simple Cross o’er the farthest sea

Sail away, my little darling To a place that will be kind; May the waves and currents guide you May you bloom in your own time

There will come times of sorrow, But my darling, do not fear Though you’ll learn to make your own way When you call, I will be here

May your spirit ne’er be broken And your judgement always wise; And your heart and garden growing All as free as wind and sky

[cutekoala1001]

POV: You’ve been drawing for clients all week, and you finally decide to stop and draw something for yourself. Wyd? 👀

Anatomy practice

That present for your brother

Backgrounds

Hands

♡✨BUSTER MOON✨♡

[thelostmoongazer]

sighs wistfully........... i wanna be more active in the vocaloid community....

project sekai girlies where are you

[whereismyhat5678]

*Climbs out of my cave*

Guys HEAR ME OUT for a second okay?….

It’s giving Hexxus- 👀🪭

ALSO THEY GAVE HIM SO MUCH ASS LIKE-

So in general, I did do a second version of it cuz I had used two pallets for him, and I REALLY liked both. So I did the second one as well 👀 I decided to show the top one since it looks more cleaner I think(?), but I couldn’t help myself 😅

Here’s the second version!

[cerise-on-top]

Singing Price a Lullaby

Reusing one of my favorite ideas! I actually put in the names of all the characters I write for into a random picker and I got Price! Lovely, he's earned it!

Looking up from your phone, you gazed through the window, looking at the few stars and clouds that were visible. The sun had kissed the planet goodnight a while ago. And yet, here you were, all alone still, lying in your bed as you awaited your lover to finally finish his work for the day. A torturous time, really. Although he may have been so near, you dared not disturb him in what he deemed so important. And thus you were left to your own devices for hours now, asking him whether or not he had desired some food from time to time. Truthfully, an empty stomach was the only thing to make John abandon his oh so important work. And even then, conversation was sparse, he merely thought about work, not paying you much mind. While there may be the occasional answer were you to ask a question, it was short. He may have been the captain of a prestigious force, but that didn’t mean he should neglect you like that. Even you, with your understanding nature, had your limits. But it wasn’t John unintentionally ignoring you for the majority of the day that got to you, no. What really irked you was how few breaks he took. Yes, what he had to do was indeed of utmost importance, but you’d rather have him take care of himself either way. You brought him tea and water, incentives to get away from his paperwork for a few minutes at a time.

Looking at your phone yet again, the clock read 21:23. Had it been up to you, you would have dragged John from his desk and into bed. While you may not have been as strong as he was physically, you would hold him down until sleep would take him. If you needed to, you would learn to tie knots as well, anything to get your boyfriend to rest. With a sigh, you turned off your phone, deciding that you, and him, had had enough for the night. Your bed may have been a bastion of comfort, but it was incomplete without him. And thus, yet again, you sought him out in the one place he could almost always be found.

You knocked on the door to his office and, to no surprise, John invited you in, not bothering to open the door himself, however.

“Evening, love. Can I help you?” It was late, he had been working since the morning. Evidently, he was tired, his speech a bit slower than usual. John even had the gall to stifle a yawn around you. Had you been stronger, you would have picked him up, thrown him over your shoulder and carried him to your shared bed. But alas he was too heavy. The sentiment was still very much there, though.

“John, don’t you think it’s time to head to bed? It’s half past nine pm already, you’ve been at this since ten am.”

Turning back to his paperwork, he tapped the pen against his papers. “Just a little bit longer, then I’ll stop for the time being.”

Those few sentences made you irrationally angry. ‘Just a little longer’, that usually meant he’d be at this for another three hours or so, which was unacceptable. You took a deep breath and gently closed the door behind you. However, you could not pretend to be calm any longer as you stomped over to John, taking his papers from him and scanning them over. “Spelling error. Spelling error. Did you doze off as you wrote this? Wrong use of ‘than’. Spelling error.” You put the papers down with force, it was a surprise none of them had flown off the desk. “John, you’re dead tired and mentally exhausted. I think it’s time you call it quits for the night.”

Putting his pen down, he sighed. “Love, it’s alright. This is important and the deadline is coming up soon enough. I can go to bed later. I’m not tired just yet either.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you a bit closer and resting his head against you, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ll join you soon enough, don’t worry.”

“Stop shitting me. You’re leaving this room right now.” Grabbing his arm, you pulled him up. You had expected otherwise, but he put up no fight as you dragged him off the chair. It seemed as though not even he wanted to really work anymore this late. No one was going to burn him at the stakes for heading to bed for the night. Or stopping for any other reason. “And if you’re not tired, fine. We’ll do something else until you are tired.” What a liar. You were sure if you forced him to bed and wrapped a blanket around him he’d be gone in roughly ten minutes. Maybe even less. His eyes were only half open, and he was, yet again, stifling a yawn. “Come on, we’re heading to the living room. I have an idea for what we can do.”

For a moment he hesitated, refusing to go along with you as you were halfway through the door. John looked back at the documents on his desk, barely moving as you tried to drag him through the door. His gaze seemed almost empty as he stared off into space. He was half asleep, even while standing there. Eventually, he relented, turning off the lights and following you into the living room.

Holding onto his wrist still, you sat down on the couch, patting your lap as John simply stared at you. Raising his eyebrow, it was clear what he wanted to convey. ‘I’m too heavy for you, I won’t be sitting in your lap.’ But that wasn’t your intention either.

“Lie down, put your head on my lap.” Although he may have been a captain, he obeyed your command, no complaints from his side either. It was adorable how he looked up at you, barely conscious. You were certain he’d fall asleep eventually. However, maybe, just maybe, you could convince him to go to bed without him actually falling asleep in your lap. You wanted to sleep in your bed as well, after all. All of this could have been avoided if only he would take better care of himself. You’re going to scold him for that, but it could wait until tomorrow. For the time being you ran your fingers through his hair.

“What are we going to do now? Watch the telly?”

“Quiet, my dear. I’m thinking.” What you were about to do was kind of embarrassing. You were only really used to singing to yourself when no one was around. But you always found your voice to be quite soothing. In fact, you could sing yourself sleepy with certain songs as well. It was a blessing and a curse. You hoped you wouldn’t start yawning throughout it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as unlikely as one would think. Still, you’d give it your all. But what to sing? You wanted to go for something a bit nicer.

Eventually, you settled for a song, looking away from John for a bit before starting to play with his hair again. He never looked away from you, taking in all of your features, regardless of how many times he had seen them.

Your voice wasn’t overly loud, it wasn’t overly high pitched either as you sang. Still, you felt a bit embarrassed, avoiding John’s gaze. It seemed almost humiliating to you, singing in front of someone else after years of not doing so. But it would take John’s mind off of things, you hoped. Your little performance was nice, you could feel yourself relaxing a bit as well.

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

Searching until my hands bleed

This flower don't belong to me

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

Searching until my hands bleed

This flower don't belong to me

This flower don't belong to me

Why can't she belong to me?

Slowly, you could feel your eyes getting a bit droopy as well, a yawn coming along with the feeling. Still, you ignored such for the sake of continuing to sing. John shifted in your lap, laying down on his side as he nuzzled into your stomach. You couldn’t tell if he was actually enjoying this, anxiety building up in your chest. However, you had already started, it would be a shame to stop now.

Every word, every thought, every sound

Every touch, every smile, every frown

All the pain we've endured until now

All the hope that I lost, you have found

He wrapped his arms around your middle and sighed contently. Maybe your anxieties were unfounded after all. It wasn’t often he’d sigh like that, only when he was really comfortable. For a moment, you dared to look at him. His eyes were closed and he seemed happy.

Every word, every thought, every sound

Surrender

Every touch, every smile, every frown

Surrender

All the pain we've endured until now

Surrender

All the hope that I lost, you have found

His breathing was shallow and calm. Has he fallen asleep already? You would have preferred it if he had fallen asleep in your shared bed, but you supposed this was better than nothing. You could always just take a nap tomorrow.

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Your little performance was over now. You had found yourself to be quite tired yourself, but dared not to move in fear of waking John. Yet, eventually, he stirred awake, in spite of you not moving a muscle. His slumber didn’t last very long, if he had even slept in the first place.

“Beautiful, love. How come you never told me you could sing like that?”

“Well, it is a bit embarrassing. Even though I really do love singing. Anyway, go to bed, you stinker. It’s late and you’re tired.”

John sighed, but got up reluctantly. Having pulled you up with him, he linked his arm with yours. You were ready to hold him given how he swayed from left to right as he walked. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. You should sing more often. I’d love to hear you sing again sometime.”

“W-well, I’m sure that could be arranged… We’ll discuss that tomorrow. For now we’re heading to bed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else at this hour.” What a jester. Had you not intervened then he’d still be working away at some boring papers. But you were proud of him for complying. He needed that rest, after all.

You weren’t sure how long it took for him to actually fall asleep, but you could have sworn you heard light snoring the moment he hit the bed. In fact, he wasn’t even moving anymore, it was you, who had to drape the blanket over the both of you. But you didn’t mind. With a gentle kiss to the top of John’s head, you settled down for the night yourself, nestling into the blankets and getting comfortable. Eventually, you, too, fell asleep, tired from singing the lullaby.

[steakcreature]

Hmm I'm thinking that this AU could be a video series that looks like a visual novel. This is a picture of what it might look like.

[plulp]

This implies Sydney the bully (preppy privileged rebel rich boy with teacher dad) and Whitney the pure/fallen (poor church boy. Idk less ideas 4 him) - Separate Anon.

OKAY SEPARATE ANON. NOW WE'RE COOKIN.

[rastronomicals]

6:33 AM EDT April 22, 2024:

The Who - "Please, Please, Please" From the album Sings My Generation (April 1966)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

US title and US release date. You can see the British cover below

File under: Maximum R & B

--

[pawzofchaos]

if we don’t get a heaven-hell Cherrisnake duet in s2 I think I’m going to lose my mind

[myriad-rainbows]

so I know we talk a lot on here about Tamsyn Muir's plotting and characterization (which is 1000% justified) but another thing that GETS me is her descriptions. Like,

[T]hrough the glorious wreck of the smeared and vaulted ceiling light streamed down in such quantities it made Gideon halfway blind again. There were deep couches and seating benches, with cracked covers and the stuffing coming out, with broken armguards and backs. Embroidered throws that clung to the seats like the skins of mummies, piebald where the light had touched them and dank where it hadn’t. Everything in that room was beautiful, and all had gone to seed. It wasn’t like back in the Ninth where unbeautiful things were now old and ruined to boot—the Ninth must have always been a corpse, and corpses putrefied. The House of the First had been abandoned, and breathlessly waited to be used by someone other than time. The floors were of wood—where they weren’t of gold-shot marble, or a rainbow mosaic of tiles gone leprous with age and disrepair—and enormous twin staircases jutted up to the floor above, spread with narrow, moth-eaten rugs. Vines peeked through in number where the glass of the ceiling had cracked, spreading tendrils that had since gone grey and dry. The pillars that reached up to support the shining glass were carpeted thickly with moss, still alive, still radiant, all orange and green and brown. It obscured old portraits on the walls in spatters of black and tan. It hung atop an old, dry fountain made of marble and glass, three tiers deep, a little bit of standing water still skulking in the bottom bowl.

!!!

[jccreates923]

Can we talk about Dawn’s Christmas song? I mean she’s basically singing “I am hot for Wickie Roy” right?

[babbimetal]

MOMOKO SINGING LEAD VOCALS FOR META TARO AT LEGEND MM - NIGHT 21 (DAY 2)🍑