#Also-Rans

[mywifeleftme]

343: Bruce Woolley and the Camera Club // English Garden

English Garden Bruce Woolley and the Camera Club 1979, Epic

Bruce Woolley was one third of the original Buggles trio, and cowrote their eventual massive hit single “Video Killed the Radio Star,” but split from partners Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes during the recording of their debut The Age of Plastic. I can’t figger it: guy quits the band, takes the two most promising songs they wrote together (“Radio Star” and “Clean, Clean”) and puts them out on his own album a few months before the Buggles can… and there’s no blood feud here? If you’re the Buggles in this situation, you’re like, hey, that guy fucked us! If you’re Woolley after the Buggles hit it big, you’re like, hey, I fucked myself, which is even more cause for pissiness. But everybody seems to have remained amicably detached in a perfectly new wave way, and within a year or two Woolley and Horn were even once again writing together.

Age of Plastic (and specifically its versions of the songs Woolley worked on with the Buggles) was a great success; meanwhile, Woolley and the Camera Club’s English Garden (self-titled for the North American release) became an instant footnote. Well, it’s no lost classic, but there’s plenty to like for new wave freaks. You can kind of think English Garden as a missing link between the superficially “futuristic” sound rock acts like the Cars flirted with and the fully synthesized pop the Buggles would soon codify (essentially “inventing the ‘80s”). A lot of it’s quite hard rocking in the general vein of the deeply underrated Sweet, but there’s also plenty of Gary Numan-esque knob twiddling (courtesy of a young Thomas Dolby). For what it’s worth, I actually like Woolley’s delicious power pop rendition of “Radio Star” a lot more than the Buggles’ landmark smash—it sounds like one of those treasured-by-fans demos that nails the sound more satisfyingly than the polished final product.

343/365

[windwenn]

‘You were my new dream’ or however the fuck that scene went

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

So earlier in art class today, someone drew a characters hands in their pockets and mentioned that hands are really like the ultimate end boss of art, and most of us wholeheartedly agreed. So then, our teacher went ahead and free handed like a handful of hands on the board, earning a woah from a couple of students. So the one from earlier mentioned how it barely took the teacher ten seconds to do what I can’t do in three hours. And you know what he responded?

“It didn’t take me ten seconds, it took me forty years.”

And you know, that stuck with me somehow. Because yeah. Drawing a hand didn’t take him fourth years. But learning and practicing to draw a hand in ten seconds did. And I think there’s something to learn there but it’s so warm and my brain is fried so I can’t formulate the actual morale of the lesson.

[za1ka]

The Great Mouse Detective screenshot redraws! 🐁🔍🐀

[vonspe]

(Kind of) continuation to this 😅

[vmkhoneyy]

“People are inherently terrible” no!!! Have you ever seen a child wait for their friend while they tie their shoelaces? Have you ever known someone who would bring hurt squirrels and rabbits and mice to the nearest vet just so it doesn’t suffer? Have you seen someone grieve? Have you ever read something that hit your heart like a freight train? Have you looked at the stars and felt an unexplainable joy? Have you ever baked bread? Have you shared a meal with a friend? Have you not seen it? All the love? All the good? I know it’s hard to see sometimes, I know there’s pain everywhere. But look, there’s a child helping another up after a hard fall. Look, there’s someone giving their umbrella to a stranger. Look, there’s someone admiring the spring flowers. Look, there’s good, there’s good, there’s good. Look!!!!

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[chloesimaginationthings]

This is Scott Cawthon’s biggest regret in FNAF..

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo learns something about himself 🏳️‍⚧️

Based roughly on this old post.

Bonus:

[Leo is taking the fact that he was born biologically female simultaneously very well and also not so well but overall he’s mostly coping with the fact that it was Draxum that just essentially gave him the turtle equivalent of ‘The Talk’.]

[drawerbread]

truly my comfort ship

no skull paint ver:

[thethunderthedragonfruit]

i was REALLY surprised i hadnt seen anyone animate over anything from the prevenge script reading yet, so i took matters into my own hands. i thought this bit was hilarious

audio from here

[bittsandpieces]

you are my truest feeling yet (i love you so much, it's just like oxygen)

[kayawolfhorse]

Discuss

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

None of our hands are clean

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[captain-flint]

Tommy 'my priority is Evan' Kinard

[teruri-ruri]

Haitanis and their eyesight problems.