#poorly drawn jane

[poorlydrawnjane]

Get caked stoner.

[spiralingemptyness]

I need to actually do digital shit 😑😑😑

[poorlydrawnnancydrew]

What happened the first time Jane did the ritual? She's got that perfect pour down by the time Nancy sees. But did she miss the hole that first few times and slosh oil everywhere? She just has to be a little bit off-center with that pitcher and we've got an oil slick all over the great hall.

No key without toil, no mop without oil

[snake-spire]

Alright, I’ve now finished a page in my sketchbook with Lilly! Specifically that for Bella!Verse and she’s already become my new favorite character.

So to explain some things: She transfers from Harper’s Hills to the soup kitchen/homeless shelter that Oscar is the head of where she meets Bella again after the months she went missing after her coma. I have a short comic about their reunion that I’m itching to draw, but I have so many ideas already.

Oscar is technically still around but Bella doesn’t meet him until what would be the end of season 4 in this au. He and Lilly have a very sweet relationship with each other: Lilly is aware of Oscar’s drinking problems and does her best to take care of him after and Oscar is like a mentor figure to her.

And of course, Jane/John is very happy to see Lilly again, but his opinions of the nurse sours because of her jealousy.

Lilly goes to the worm house with Bella and gets attacked like Oscar, this time, the worms go to her leg and it’s cut from the knee.

(Poorly drawn worm in her leg below +the aftermath)

The only time Bella meets Oscar would be just outside of Marie’s house when he delivers Lilly’s letter to her.

[julieverne]

Maura and Frankie headed off to The Dirty Robber well before Jane had finished her mandatory firearm discharge paperwork. She stewed, simmering as she typed out the incident she'd attended. The warning shot she'd fired to get the hostage clear.

So when she walked in, finally, she was even more irate to see Maura without Frankie in attendance. Giovanni was there instead, and even from the door she could see Maura eyeing him with interest. Even after everything, Maura really did have a type. She crossed the room in a couple of quick, easy steps, slid her arm over Maura's shoulders and tilted her face up so she could kiss her.

Then she froze. She hadn't thought this through. Jane acted on impulse more often than not; it was why she'd spent her evening on paperwork. She hadn't quite meant to kiss Maura. Just remind Maura that Giovanni thought they were together because Maura found his personality not as attractive as his body.

But Maura melted against her, her lips open and accepting Jane like she'd anticipated this poorly-thought through plan. Like she'd expected Jane to kiss her and had been waiting all this time. The same way she accepted and went along with any of Jane's impetuous plans, Maura sold it. For a woman that couldn't lie, she was a remarkable kisser. Maura's lips were soft from the lip balm she used - familiar to Jane, since she borrowed it frequently, tasting peach and something uniquely Maura beneath it, her chest tightening even when she borrowed it as her lips moisturised. Maura's familiar hands found Jane's waist and skirted around the scar tissue Maura knew all too well, grasping Jane's waist as she tipped her head further back, allowing Jane better access to her. And Jane found her own hands resting on Maura's cheek, sliding down her jaw until her thumb could brush over a scar a serial killer had left there, Jane's touch impossibly soft in apology for putting her in arm's reach of him.

Jane didn't want to pull away first. She knew Maura had rejection sensitivity, and that was part of it; she didn't want to hurt Maura's feelings. But she also very much didn't want to pull away for her own sake as well. She hadn't - she carefully hadn't - thought about kissing Maura, hadn't wondered what it would be like to have that curvaceous body pressed to hers like this, to have Maura's lips brushing so softly against her own. She was lost in a sea of sensory bliss. Jane was never still, never stood still, never stopped moving, but she'd been pulled to a halt by this thing between them. It wasn't even a proper kiss; it was just a greeting, the same as Nonna had insisted the Rizzoli kids give her. But Maura didn't feel like Jane's Nonna. Not even a little bit.

She couldn't deny it. Not now. The attraction between them had been there all along. She'd tried to ignore it, tried to pull away, but Maura had been so hurt and confused that Jane had been drawn straight back in.

Maura pulled away first, slowly, her eyes closed but slowly opening, blinking up at Jane. She looked worried, and Jane would do anything to keep that look from her face, would do anything to appease her.

So she leaned in and gave a quick, slightly more appropriate kiss for the public place they were frequenting. She smiled, her eyes anxiously scanning Maura's, one hand cradling Maura's head, the other resting on her chest near her collarbone, the bare skin warm against the scar on her palm. She swallowed, and Maura took mercy on her.

"I ordered for you - ah, they saw you come in." Maura took the beer from the bartender and held it out to Jane, who pushed her luck and kissed Maura's temple as she took it, taking a big swig.

"Youse two are so cute together," Giovanni said, a little wistfully. He'd stopped asking, a few years back now, if they were looking for a man. He'd stopped seeing them as available women and started seeing them as a couple, the way a lot of other people seemed to for reasons unfathomable to Jane.

"Thanks," Maura said, tucking herself in against Jane's side. Where she fit perfectly. Where she'd always fitted perfectly. She gave Jane a shy smile, then turned back to her drink, talking about motorbike engines with enthusiasm as Frankie returned from the bathroom and joined in, not even giving Maura and Jane's proximity a second glance.

Jane could feel her heartbeat going crazy, could feel the thrum of longing in her veins. Maura laughed, and there had never been a more beautiful sound or a more beautiful woman or a more beautiful moment. Jane drained her beer and dragged Maura outside, heading for her place on foot as she dragged Maura by the wrist behind her. It wasn't until they entered the vestibule that Maura reclaimed her hand.

"What kind of women do you think we'd like, if we liked women?" Maura asked as she followed Jane up the stairs, and the question felt familiar somehow.

"I'd like you," Jane said, with her condo door finally closed behind them. "I'm sorry. I should have thought that through. I just saw you smiling up at him. The way you smile up at me. And I didn't want - you said you don't like him. And that you don't want me either. But it just seemed - easier."

"Oh." Maura took off her coat, and Jane watched hungrily as more skin was exposed to her gaze. Maura seemed lost in thought. "So you're sorry you kissed me, but kissing me revealed somehow that I would be the kind of woman you'd like if you liked women?" Maura's brow crinkled and it was adorable and she was adorable and Jane turned to the stove, filling her kettle awkwardly to fill the silence.

"I don't like women. I mean, I like women just fine, but not to date. You know what I mean, don't you?" Maura nodded, and Jane set the kettle on the stove. "But I do like you," Jane whispered, turning on the hob. "I mean. I don't need to like more than one woman to like you, do I?"

"I've always been exceptional," Maura mused. "I don't typically find myself attracted to women either, but I would very much like to kiss you again without everyone we know watching us."

"No one is watching us now," Jane pointed out, her fingers running over the scar on her right hand, her teeth worrying her lip. Maura nodded and stepped forward. She tilted Jane's chin with her thumb as she leaned in, and she was twice as soft as Jane remembered, her lips gentle and knowing as they sought Jane's, her tongue smooth and slow, her hands subtle and pervasive.

When the kettle whistled, Jane blinked. She was shoved against the counter, Maura pressed completely against her. Jane's belt was on the floor, her button down was on the lamp, her undershirt was pushed up and her bra was pushed down. Her pants were unzipped and Maura's eyes were a dark brown that Jane had never seen before. She leaned over and turned the stove off, swallowing hard. Maura smiled, a gloating, satisfied smile, before dragging her teeth down Jane's throat.

"I need -" Jane gasped, as Maura's fingers found her, pressing tight circles against her. Jane tried to hold onto that train of thought. But it came crashing down as she did, with only Maura's body pressed against her own to keep her upright on her unsteady legs. "I need to send Giovanni a thank you basket," Jane finished after she'd finished. And Maura laughed, a sweet, delighted chuckle, pressing a kiss against Jane's throat again.

"Peppers," Maura agreed. "But I need you to never think about Giovanni again when I'm touching you."

"Not even if it's about how grateful I am that he's such a weirdo that you don't want to sleep with him? Not even if it's about how grateful I am that you decided that pretending we were dating was the best way to get rid of him? Not even if it's how without him I never would have been brave enough to kiss you?"

"Not even," Maura laughed. "The only person I want you thinking about is me."

"You are all I think about," Jane admitted. She kissed Maura slowly and tenderly. "And I want to do more than just sleep with you. Since that's all you wanted to do with him." Maura was somehow fully dressed and perfectly coiffed. Her lipstick hadn't even smudged as she'd dismantled Jane, and Jane had been too distracted to fumble with the elaborate system of zippers Maura's dress contained. Maura smiled a little sadly, as though she'd heard something that had touched her deeply.

"Are you sure? It's a big change. People will treat us differently if they know we're together." While Maura's concern was sweet, it was misplaced. Everything clicked into place now; the precinct already believed they were dating. As did both of their families. Well. Both of Maura's families, and Jane's as well.

"You're the only thing in my life I've ever been sure about. If I have to marry you to prove it, so be it." Maura stepped back, flustered, and Jane panicked. "I mean, let me prove it." She stepped forward and kissed Maura with all the tender longing she'd kept inside these long years, tugged carefully at concealed zippers. Part of her was aware that Maura deserved this to be happening somewhere more comfortable, on her own terms, in lingerie after a fancy date at a museum or something, with someone far richer and smarter than Jane. But Maura had no complaints, sliding up onto the counter when Jane pushed her there, spreading her legs for Jane, who revelled in the space between them so thoroughly that she didn't notice Maura's nails tight against her skull until she was kissing her way back up to Maura's mouth.

"We were already sleeping together," Maura said, when she could form a sentence again. "But this is much, much better."

[xhylin]

hi hello I have been so silent. as an apology, have my very poorly drawn Jesse and Jane fanart from school. I love u guys I'm sorry I was just INCREDIBLY unmotivated.... also this is old.... from may....... euagh..

im currently working on a VERY detailed piece of Viktor from Arcane which I will be definitely posting once I'm done, but idk when that'll be tbh

REQUESTS ALWAYS OPEN!!!!!!!

anyway have a nice day u guys and happy gay month 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈❤️

[cto10121]

Stupid piece of shit, Twilight literally caused so many myths & misconceptions about Native & Quileute people that the Quileute tribe had to put up an entire site dispelling the shit Stephanie Meyer caused. I literally cannot begin to explain how insanely racist Twilight is as a series with the number of bullshit that happens to not just the Native characters, but other characters of color (but Stephanie Meyer targeted Native Americans specifically). Twilight is an incredibly mediocre and poorly written series created by a fucking Mormon, go read Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, or Dracula.

You mean that same Quileute people that has come out with their support for the series, talking about how the series garnered tourism, attention, and economic wealth to their reservation? The same Quileute tribe who credited Twilight for their success in moving their reservation to higher ground and even getting that northern boundary approved after 50 years of no progress?

You literally cannot explain how racist Twilight is a series for a reason, anon. Because if all of it boils down to Meyer changing their legends for a whole-ass fantasy AU, then that’s not good enough, anon. Hell, it provided a great opportunity for the Quileutes to educate tourists on their real-life legends, so it’s a win-win for them.

And of course they aren’t offended by the series’ portrayal of them either. The Quileutes have it good in these books overall: They have wolf superpowers but with none of the downsides of actual bloodlust, need to kill, or sociopathy. In fact, they are framed as protectors in the narrative and their power is deeply rooted in their communal blood ties and their positive relationship with nature. In the books the Quileute legends have them be spirit warriors who had a wolf consent to share his body with one of them. And of course all the bad guys, save a typical internecine power grab, are the pale, evil, sociopathic bloodsuckers.

And that’s not counting the fact that a Native male character—drawn complementary with the male hero—is the secondary love interest of the romantic heroine, and so strong a contender he even has passionate fans arguing for his ship to this very day. And that’s not counting the fact that the author personally loves that character, to the point where she could not bear to end the series with him not getting a love interest/happy ending.

Also, I’m literally an English major a hairsbreadth shy of becoming an actual English teacher at some point. And if you think the likes of Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and freakin’ Dracula don’t have very similar themes or even their own issues even on the writing level, then I’m not the one who must read them, anon. I think a re-reading is in order.

[jasminewalkerauthor]

Trope chats: Love triangles

The love triangle, a recurring narrative trope, has captured the imagination of readers for centuries, adding layers of complexity to stories of romance and interpersonal relationships. This essay delves into the appeal, evolution, pitfalls, and use of the love triangle as a literary device, exploring its enduring popularity, the challenges it presents, and its impact on both literature and societal perceptions of love.

The love triangle holds a timeless appeal rooted in the exploration of complex emotions, interpersonal dynamics, and the tension between desire and duty. It introduces a dynamic narrative element that can elevate the stakes of a romantic plot, adding intrigue, conflict, and emotional depth. Readers are drawn to the ambiguity and unpredictability inherent in a love triangle, as characters navigate conflicting feelings and moral dilemmas, creating a potent emotional experience.

The love triangle trope has ancient roots, evident in classical literature such as Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" and the Arthurian legends. However, its prominence increased in the 19th century with the rise of romantic literature. The classic novel "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Brontë exemplifies the early use of the love triangle, introducing the conflict between Jane, Mr. Rochester, and St. John Rivers.

In modern literature, the love triangle has evolved beyond traditional heterosexual relationships to include diverse representations of love and desire. The trope has been adapted to explore LGBTQ+ dynamics, reflecting changing societal attitudes towards love and relationships.

While the love triangle can be a powerful narrative device, it is not without its pitfalls. A poorly executed love triangle may fall into clichés, relying on predictable outcomes and superficial character motivations. Authors must carefully develop the characters involved, ensuring their emotions and choices are authentic to avoid a reductionist portrayal of love and relationships.

Furthermore, the love triangle trope may reinforce certain stereotypes, such as the notion that romantic relationships are inherently competitive or that one's worth is determined by romantic pursuits. Writers must be mindful of perpetuating harmful ideas about possessiveness, entitlement, and the objectification of individuals within the context of a love triangle.

The love triangle serves various literary purposes beyond merely creating romantic tension. It can be a vehicle for character development, allowing protagonists to grapple with their values, priorities, and personal growth. The love triangle may also serve as a thematic exploration of societal expectations, cultural norms, and the complexities of navigating love in different contexts.

The love triangle trope has a profound influence on societal perceptions of love, romance, and relationships. It reflects and shapes cultural attitudes, contributing to popular ideas about passion, fidelity, and the pursuit of happiness. The portrayal of love triangles in literature can impact how individuals perceive their own experiences and navigate the intricacies of romantic relationships.

The love triangle trope remains a captivating and enduring element in literature, offering a lens through which authors explore the multifaceted nature of human emotions and relationships. Its evolution reflects changing societal norms, and when executed thoughtfully, the love triangle can enrich narratives, challenge stereotypes, and prompt readers to reflect on the complexities of love. However, authors must be vigilant to avoid pitfalls that can lead to cliché or reinforce harmful narratives. As literature continues to evolve, the love triangle remains a dynamic tool for writers to probe the depths of the human heart and offer readers a nuanced exploration of love in all its complexities.

[poorlydrawnjane]

oh hello jane. you should wear a redglare costume :)

[elleashling]

so i watched the fnaf movie and i have some thoughts. mostly not good but certainly some thoughts!

(FNAF MOVIE SPOILERS. DO NOT READ BELOW IF YOU DO NOT WANT THEM)

unpopular opinion but the fnaf movie was frustrating to me because i didn’t feel like it followed the lore at All. like i appreciated all the references (kicked my feet and scream whispered in the theater to my mom when i saw the racing game print on the shirt of the guy who dies in the kitchen) but like the overarching plot made no sense to me. here are some rambling points. long post incoming

Plot Fails IMO

why did afton kidnap garrett (who is nonexistent in the games afaik) from a Campground? this is completely unrelated to the typical afton kidnappings and seems like a major stretch

why is vanessa his (afton’s) daughter? this feels like they tried to smash steel wool lore and scott cawthon lore together and failed worse than steel wool failed at making security breach have a point

why do we care about the mike schmidt namedrop if it isn’t an alias for afton’s son like in the games? why does afton recognize the last name and specifically get mike to work the job, then say he didn’t want mike to even get involved. my brother in christ YOU INVOLVED HIM

yet another piece of media where afton randomly dies. except Different. i don’t understand what is going on here this isn’t how it happened it’s a literal rewriting of the canon lore

the drawings thing was also very odd. the whole point of the animatronics coming to kill you originally in 1 and 2 was BECAUSE they knew an adult had killed them and they thought mike was william. there was no special drawing mind control. felt once again like a steel wool lore transplant, extending control over vanny (vanessa) to the animatronics

Springtrap For Fanservice™️. god im so tired of this stop jamming him in places he wasn’t in to start with

when would this take place even? i estimated somewhere between 1 and 3, clearly fazbear’s shut down but it’s obviously not to the point of fnaf 3 yet? why do they need a guard then? idk

abby schmidt? who

Other Odd Stuff

there was a weird split between horrifying fates and drawn out gore and people being cut in half in impossible ways and….. cutting the tension in half by building a table fort and tickling a child to death. really? every single climatic buildup in this movie felt like it was followed by comedy

my mother pointed out watching this movie that it continues a trope “autistic child provides key help through special connection with main plot problem, and then is immediately cured”. i have to say i kind of agree because why else call her mentally ill at the beginning? go out of the way to show her being by herself drawing (which is FINE! it’s OKAY!!) and then socializing with other kids after the ghost deal is over?

mike schmidt dream plotline. why

what was the point of aunt jane???

vanessa throwing the pills away was probably illegal in multiple ways lmao

sigh… as a long term fnaf fan i really wanted to like this movie but it came off as a whole lot of fanservice and diluting the story for mainstream while blending the new owner’s lore in poorly. i liked fnaf when it ended at fnaf 6!!!!!!!!!! aaaaaaahhhaggagah!!!!!!

if you want to contradict anything i said here (or if ur another big fan and you know smth i said is wrong lol) absolutely feel free i love lore and talking about it and if you love lore like me come chat and talk abt this w me!!!

tldr don’t get me wrong i enjoyed it for the references and the little details, matpat and cory and the living tombstone made me giggle, but i really thought they messed up the plot a Lot..

might add more in reblogs as i think of it

yeah anyways ill probably make another post rambling about all the references and stuff lol

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Tag Game - Fandom Edition

thanks for the tag @ashesandhackles!

Your Name: Celeste (a pen name)

First Fandom: As a writer: Jokingly, Twilight. Intentionally, Harry Potter. As a reader: I think that if Tumblr/fandom spaces existed when I was younger, Little House on the Prairie/the Little House series would've been my first fandom.

Current Fandom: Harry Potter and Pride and Prejudice

How did you first get into fandom? A reread of the HP series and the need to consume more Remadora. I hadn't read fanfic or engaged in the fandom before that point.

How long have you been engaging in fandom spaces? Almost two years.

How often do you read fanfic? Depends. Sometimes it's daily, other times it's every now and then. These days I'm reading fic almost every day.

Top three characters from your current fandom? From HP: Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Andromeda Tonks. From P&P: Elizabeth Bennet, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet.

Have you ever written a fic for a fandom and if so, shout it out! Yes! I've got 80 published works on AO3 for HP, with another 5-6 on their way. I've got 2 underway for P&P.

Have you ever drawn fan art for a fandom? No but I want to. I'm terrible at art and self-teaching is going poorly.

Share a personal headcanon that you feel strongly about: Tonks was really close with her parents and had a good, positive relationship with them 95% of the time.

You’re trying to convince a friend to get into your current fandom(s) with you. what episode, clip, or scene are you showing them? Hum. For HP, the scene where Harry's in the forest and uses the Resurrection Stone to see his family. For P&P: either the world's worst proposal from Darcy, OR, if we're going by the movies or tv show, Darcy coming out of the pond wet or that super charged raining bad proposal scene.

And finally, what does fandom mean to you? Friendship! It's the best kind of ship!

Tagging @in-love-with-remus-lupin, @messrmoonyy, @leesielou, @prospering-carnations, @darkbiwriter, @youllstillfindst0ne, @timeandpixiedust

[heybobbygirl]

More OC drawings because I am obsessing!!! (minor blood warning but it is very poorly drawn and hard to see so I don’t really think you need to worry)

(Featuring lyrics from The Ballad of Jane Doe because they just fit really well)

Neither of these really came out how I wanted but they get the point across. I guess.

Oh yeah that’s Matthew and Xavier btw (left to right)

[justforbooks]

Jerry Lee Lewis, who has died aged 87, achieved dazzling early success as a defining hero of rock’n’roll, when he muscled in among Elvis Presley, Little Richard and Chuck Berry, creating rock’n’roll piano from honky-tonk and hymn, as if doing so were as natural as breathing, and commandeering rhythm and blues with a casual authority achieved by no other white performer except Presley. With Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On, Great Balls of Fire and High School Confidential, he made three of the genre’s indispensable classics.

These hits, plus unbeatable versions of Mean Woman Blues, Berry’s Little Queenie and many more, shared an immediately identifiable style, an alchemy of the “Sun Studio sound”, fluid vocal brio and a pounding yet lyrical piano. Both hands were crucial in his playing, his striding left hand the foundation of the rhythm, even with a bass guitarist behind him.

Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On was his second single. Widely banned for lewdness, it sold poorly until Lewis shook up Steve Allen’s national TV show in July 1957, after which he was a star, undertaking nationwide tours while the record sold more than a million. The glorious Great Balls of Fire followed, then Breathless and the title song of the film High School Confidential, in which Lewis performed. All stormed the pop, country and R&B charts.

However, it was all to change in May 1958 when Lewis arrived in Britain. The press discovered that the 13-year-old girl with him was his wife of five months, Myra Gale Brown (who was also his third cousin). His tour was cancelled, Lewis was deported and his career under threat. Jerry confessed his whole hillbilly history: “I was a bigamist at 16 … My wife Myra and I are very happy.” The public were not.

Born in Ferriday, Louisiana, to Mary Ethel, who spoke in tongues, and Elmo Lewis, a labourer, Jerry had two sisters, Frankie Jean and Linda Gail. His elder brother, Elmo Jr, was killed by a drunk driver when they were boys. His father, imprisoned for bootlegging, was brought to the funeral in chains.

Jerry was raised in the Pentecostal church, on family gospel singing and country music by Jimmie Rodgers, Gene Autry, Hank Williams and the state’s singing governor, Jimmie Davis. He taught himself the guitar, drums and fiddle as well as the piano, and hung around a local club, Haney’s, where he claimed he heard top black performers from Duke Ellington to Muddy Waters.

At 12 he made his first paid appearance, moved on to Radio WNAT in Natchez, Mississippi, and at 13 played clubs there, while his cousin Betty Jo Slamper taught him to “smooch”.

Hired as a pianist by a travelling preacher, in February 1952 Lewis married the preacher’s 16-year-old daughter, Dorothy Barton. Jerry Lee, too, was 16. The following year he attended the Pentecostal Bible Institute in Waxahatchie, Texas. Expelled for playing gospel music “like coloured people”, he told them, rightly, that they “might as well accept it, ’cause some day that’s how it’s gonna be”. Back home in September 1953, a month before his divorce from Barton was finalised, he bigamously married a pregnant Jane Mitchum after three days’ jail for store-breaking and stealing a gun. Whether or not this second marriage was ever legalised, it ended in 1957.

In Shreveport he made two country music demos, and in Nashville sought work from Slim Whitman. But rock’n’roll was erupting across the south, and like others drawn to Sun Studios, Memphis, by Presley’s success, Lewis auditioned there. In December 1956 Sun issued Crazy Arms, which sold well despite Ray Price’s version having long been on the charts and despite Lewis sounding almost diffident (not something that would recur). The B-side, End of the Road, one of Lewis’s few compositions, was an authentic dark howl, a perfect expression of its name and place.

At year’s end Lewis played on the sessions for several other artists’ rockabilly cuts, among them Carl Perkins’s Matchbox and Billy Lee Riley’s Flyin’ Saucers Rock’n’Roll. Days later, Roy Orbison asked him to play. Lewis replied: “I don’t do sessions any more.” Later, pressed by a discographer as to who had played on Jerry Lee’s own records, he would offer one of the all-time great ripostes to the collector mentality: “I played on ’em: what the hell else d’you need to know?”

Live, he was an explosive performer in the early years, genuinely close to the edge. And uninhibitedly competitive. Resenting lower billing than Berry on a date at the Paramount Theater, Brooklyn, New York, in 1958, the rumour is that Lewis ended his act by setting the piano on fire. As they met in the wings, Lewis challenged Berry: “Follow that!” Whether or not it happened, it is a rumour Lewis himself perpetuated with glee.

Two 1964 live recordings show his genius. On a tawdry, humdrum date at the Star Club, Hamburg, playing to what sounds like about 50 people, and using, in the tradition of visiting American stars, an English backing group he met mere minutes before showtime, Lewis suddenly rose to a transcendent Your Cheating Heart, with exquisite vocal phrasing and unsurpassable piano, coursing with understatement and grace. In front of an audience of 50,000 in Birmingham, Alabama, he threw down a Hi-Heel Sneakers of shuddering, majestic excitement, stealing the song from all previous occupants.

Following his rise and fall, Lewis remained at Sun, its heaviest star, making rock’n’roll A-sides and wonderful country B-sides of the immaculate Hank Williams kind, years before country became an established new career for ex-rockers. Lewis would be a main player in opening up this route.

He regained the UK Top 10 once, in 1961, with a superb version of Ray Charles’s What’d I Say, its sumptuous thunder Sun Records’s last golden moment. Lewis left in 1962.

On record he lost direction for a time, but toured with an arrogance burnished into art, wilfully infuriating audiences of Teds by dwelling on slow country songs while provoking country crowds with unabashed rock’n’roll. In mid-song he would order a musician to “Play it, son!” only to prevent his doing so with a piano solo no one would interrupt.

For a while he joined the rock festivals circuit, including appearing at the 1969 Toronto Rock and Roll Revival, but by the 1970s he had cracked the mainstream country market with a succession of hits such as What’s Made Milwaukee Famous (Has Made a Loser Out of Me) and the impeccably wily She Still Comes Around (to Love What’s Left of Me). A rangey, muttering Me and Bobby McGee in 1971 was made “to show that damn woman [Janis Joplin] how it should be done”.

Ten years later, his skin waxy and his gait old, he combed his greased hair for the Wembley Country festival crowd, put on filthy sunglasses and delivered a consummate Over the Rainbow: the mic still placed to show off how stylishly his right hand could steer around it, his vocal control sublime. He continued to switch between the two genres for the rest of his career and, as late as October 2009, Lewis opened the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 25th anniversary concert at Madison Square Garden in New York.

He proclaimed himself for ever a rock’n’roller, through his remaining decades of turmoil, lurid tragedy and farce. His son with Myra, Steve, drowned in their swimming pool in 1962 aged three; one of his two sons with Jane Mitchum, Jerry Lee Jr, died in a car crash at 19 in 1973; Myra divorced him, citing mental cruelty and physical abuse; in 1983 his fifth wife, Shawn Stevens, took a fatal overdose 10 weeks into their marriage, a year after his fourth wife, Jaren Pate, drowned in another swimming pool. Rolling Stone published The Strange and Mysterious Death of Mrs Jerry Lee Lewis, accusing him of murdering one wife and abusing and/or hounding to death several others.

In 1975 his plane was seized with cocaine and 11 kinds of amphetamine on board; in 1976 he was arrested outside the gates of Graceland, drunk in possession of a gun; the IRS seized his property in 1979 and 1983, and he filed for bankruptcy even as Dennis Quaid was making the 1989 Hollywood film of his life, Great Balls of Fire! A short, tax-avoiding emigration to Ireland with his sixth wife, Kerrie McCarver, and their young son, Jerry Lee Lewis III, followed in 1992.

The marriage to Kerrie, remarkably, lasted 21 years, from 1984 to 2005; in 2012 he married for the seventh time, to his former “caregiver”, Judith Brown. There had been decades of medical catastrophe, including a collapsed lung, gall-bladder removal, bleeding stomach ulcers, spinal surgery and car-crash injuries. In 1984 he was twice brought back to life in an ambulance, and had half his stomach removed in 1985, a year his wife said he also spent shooting up methadone, tranquillisers and speed. In old age he also suffered from arthritis, pneumonia and shingles, in Rick Bragg’s 2014 book Jerry Lee Lewis: His Story.

Lewis embodied pinched obduracy, brooding, malevolent ignorance, violent unreliability and borderline madness. He abused women, played with guns and shot at men; he drove the highways of the south blind drunk with his loaded pistol on the dashboard. Yet in the vivid contrast between the meanness of the man and the grandeur of the artist, the common denominators were his phenomenal energy and admirable, all-conquering self-belief.

He will be remembered for his lifetime of hillbilly delirium, but he will be renowned for his seizure of the musical moment at the dawn of rock’n’roll, when an incomparable talent was his intoxicant and ours: when he shot up the old order and played out his defiant dramas on the keyboard, in the studio and on the stage.

He is survived by Judith, and his children Ronnie, Phoebe, Lori and Jerry Lee III.

🔔 Jerry Lee Lewis, singer, songwriter, pianist and guitarist, born 29 September 1935; died 28 October 2022

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[gettingreallyintobeatlesyaoi]

Day 4 of reading Beatles RPF

On our way back home by Kathleenishereagain || 4/56

Taking a break from recording a few podfics to read some Beatles fanfiction.

I've got two things to report with this chapter, and the I promise, I'll get out of your hair.

Number One: I'm realizing, very quickly, that I'm far too American for their location. Or, to be more clear, I have zero idea where the hell anything is. This hasn't been a problem, but this chapter made a point to mention a few locations. Such as Liverpool, where Paul's dad lives and where he went back to visit him.

(Brief side note, but I did find myself tearing up, just a little, at this. Maybe just at the notion itself, of going back and sitting in a long dead parent's kitchen, eating breakfast they made for you. That some things never really change, that they will always be your parent, even if, as Paul is, you're a time-traveling 77 year old.)

But, locations. There's a bit where Paul says he's in Liverpool, John says he's in London, and I, American, just sort of nodded along with zero idea what any of those names meant. I have no idea what the distance between those places is, but I should probably find out. Actually, having some kind of map might be useful for future chapters. I'll remember to bookmark one, so that I can reference any other locations they go to.

The second thing that stood out to me in this chapter was the contrast between Paul's ex-girlfriend (current girlfriend in 1965, but ex to him? Time travel shenanigans.), Jane, and John. The way he reacts to seeing both of them is so vastly different, despite by his own admission, both of them not being people he was on the best of terms with when he saw them last. (mentions Jane being his ex-fiance as well, so I imagine that went poorly. and obviously there's the fight with John that broke up their friendship for a long while.) He doesn't want to speak to Jane, can't bring himself to even say that he loves her back over a phone call, but upon even hearing John's name, he "perks up". It's a small thing, but as someone who has a hard time getting drawn into romantic narratives of any kind (and this is the Beatles yaoi page, so we'll be getting some kind of romance, god willing,) I enjoyed picking up on it.

(Oh! One last thing! There was a meeting at the beginning of the chapter, glossed over because Paul has more important things to worry about, but it briefly mentioned a "future movie". There's a Beatles movie??? The amount I don't know about these people...)

[re-readingcomics]

Comics Read 07/01-15/2023

A little over a year ago I did a post about reading two comic book biographies of Artemisia Gentileschi back-to-back. I wrote some lines about how the inclusion of them in my collection helps makes the act of collecting semi-autobiographical. Consider this a sequel to that post.

Over the two weeks I am writing about I read Glass Town written and drawn by Isabel Greenberg and The Brontës Infernal Angria written by Craig Hurd-McKenney and art by Rick Geary. Different takes on the same subject, how the Brontë children had a shared alternate universe which they all wrote stories about. I have owned a copy ofThe Juvenilia of Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë from when I was a child, but I never read it. I probably should. The names of Angria and Gondal were familiar from reading about the Brontës. But because of not actually reading the Juvenilia, I first encountered Glass Town by name in Die, where it was treated as a proto-multi-player role playing game. Which, seems fair enough. Die wasn’t much interested in the subject of their writings, so this is all new to me.

Greenberg’s art in Glass Town is crude in the same way ND Stevenson’s and Gus Allen art work is. If anything it’s more childlike and inconsistent. I don’t love it, but I like how the lines work the limited pallet with a lot of dark, cool reds. It hints at the early industrial feel of their time period as well as the harsh climate of their surroundings. 

The narrative starts in the aftermath of the the eldest Brontë sisters, Elizabeth and Maria, deaths. The creation of Glass Town is an escape from the trauma of their final illnesses at a poorly kept boarding school.

Charlotte narrates her tale of Glass Town, to a minor character from her stories who appears as her imaginary friend. They talk through the plot she worked on, which as presented here seems more related to Wuthering Heights than Charlotte’s actual novels. The story includes how while the children started sharing Glass Town, they split with Charlotte and Bramwell writing about Angria while Emily and Anne created Gondor. (Less of Emily and Anne’s writing on Gondal survives to the modern day than Charlotte’s work on Angria, hence why less of it is included in either of these accounts.) Probably because of this shared fantasy world with her brother, Charlotte is shocked by his decent into alcoholism while Emily catches early warning signs. It’s a rumination on the building of escapist fantasy in the face of tragedy and the creation of art. I don’t think it entirely works, but it makes me want to get back to reading the Brontë’s and writing about them. 

Infernal Angria takes the shared fantasy world and creates an actual portal fantasy. The Brontës literally go between worlds and get used in political machinations in an alternate world’s monarchy. I hated it. The text is something of an apologia for Bramwell for being such a failure. He didn’t really fail, he was manipulated by much more mature people from a world he loved. Also it takes the “artists don’t die, they live through their art” to the extreme of the Brontës didn’t all die at shockingly young ages, they relocated to the other side of a portal. It’s silly and also unclear. It shouldn’t be both. The end had the author talking about his long love of the Brontës as well as a suggested reading list. Everyone in a while you find someone who has some shared enthusiasms but seem to take it in a direction that rubs you wrong.

At first glance, I would think that Geary’s art style is more my type than Greenberg's. But eventually I hated it because the shading was made with a crosshatching that got too easily confused with paterns used for fabrics or wood grains. It’s the shorter of these two books and the one that felt more like a chore to read. 

The contrasting treatments of the the worlds of Angria/Glass Town is pretty interesting. The character in both have essentially the same back story, but as presented in Infernal Angria I didn’t feel like the narrative came off as a rough draft of Wuthering Heights. Glass Town treats the alternate world as a reflection on contemporary colonialism, while Infernal Angria approaches it as a pastiche of Medieval fantasy. It makes me wish I had read the source material even more. 

Despite finding these books lacking, there will be more comic book takes on the Brontës in my reading future. 

[gendertroublemaker]

If you’re still up to requests, perhaps Rich and Jane taking turns holding baby John?

OMG YESSSS!!!! Sorry this is so poorly drawn.. it’s just a silly doodle also I gave up on drawing babies LOL

Rich would be EXTREMELY nervous and scared.. like he’s afraid he’d drop him on accident or that John would explode if he held him the wrong way LMAOOOOOO. Jane on the other hand would be very calm and relaxed. She knows what she’s doing!