#toy record player

[houseofcatwic]

Beatles Fan

[helena-bottom-farter]

[thylacines-toybox]

Elderflower goes for a spin!

[vintage-tech]

The Show 'N Tell is a toy combination record player and filmstrip viewer manufactured by General Electric from October 1964 to the 1970s. It resembles a television set, but has a record player on the top. Records and slides were sold for it in combination (known as Picturesound programs). The slide strips, a flat plastic key 11 inches long containing a strip of 16mm color film, are inserted into the top of the device. As the record played (typically telling a story), the slide strip, through which the images were projected on the screen, automatically advance to illustrate it. The mechanism by which the slide advanced is purely mechanical, and was based on the rotation of the turntable, so proper operation required manually spinning it a few revolutions before beginning the presentation. The original selling price of the unit was $29.95 and Picturesound programs sold for 99 cents with "a library of five programs" selling for $4.95. By 1965, there were 140 programs available. Each program moved through 15 color slides and ran approximately 4 minutes.

[m00nb04rd5]

Let’s see you do a moodboard for Soundwave.

Soundwave (Transformers Cybertron)

[squishsquishy]

Stacy Q - Two of Hearts

x/x/x x/x/x x/x/x for day 2 of deadboystims’ event

DAY 002 : make a stimboard based off your favorite song / album

[90s-2000s-barbie]

Lamb Chop Cassette Recorder (1995) 🎤

[whats-in-a-sentence]

By the 1960s luxuries that had not even existed a century before – radios, televisions, record players, cars, refrigerators, telephones, electric lights (and, what I remember best, the plastic toys) – were everyday items in the Western core (Figure 10.9).

"Why the West Rules – For Now: The patterns of history and what they reveal about the future" - Ian Morris

[dddemigirl]

The books still need to be sorted but I’m finding more of my stuff and putting it out.

[a-typewritten-blog]

Three important things.

[misforgotten2]

My record listening evolution started with a family’s cheap 45 rpm plastic record player, then to a portable Zenith stereo and then a big jump to a counsel color TV & stereo. Then on my own I had a component sound system (many elements I still use) to cassette tapes, CDs and now mp3s on my computer. Now if only I can get my Sony sound cancelling headphones to connect to Bluetooth more than half the time I’d be all set.

Lionel: Trains / Raceways / Phonographs  catalog   1966

[kralmajales]

I feel so bad because I do really love animals but I’ll be honest . I do NOT like my roommates’ cat. He really likes me and I know he just likes to play but I hate how he plays sooooo much .

[gorgynei]

fascinating parts from this brennan interview about downfall

downfall was recorded in one week and brennan described it as "one of the most intense roleplaying experiences [he's] ever had"

if avalir was showcasing the age of arcanum, downfall will showcase the actual calamity

even though avalir and aeor seem similar on paper, brennan says the stories could NOT be more different. the themes, player motivations/briefings, and genres are completely unique

downfall embraces the nuance and complexity (moral and otherwise) of the gods and digs into the idea that the gods "called a truce" to fell aeor and what that actually means

brennan says aeor actually has a large population of refugees from the calamity by the time downfall takes place. however, they didnt have a large impact on the city's architecture and so by the modern era their cultures and presence in aeor (and wider exandria) have been almost entirely lost

overall downfall seems to focus on the ways that small errors in history can change a lot

brennan describes his experience with dm'ing in exandria as "going into a sandbox and creating the toys you're gonna to play with there"

the population of aeor is "demographically meaningfully different from who was living in aeor at the height of the age of arcanum," according to brennan. basically, not every aeorian will have bolo's accent (sad)

aeormatons will be in downfall in some way

setting, plot, and character backstories were worked on in tandem

on a scale of 1 to 10 in terms of tragedy, brennan said downfall would need an entirely new axis. there is a "different kind of horror" in downfall, something that is distinct from "xenomorph chasing you horror"

brennan said "there are moments in downfall where i could feel my stomach wanting to drop out of my body"

[ccccatttta]

“every magic spell ends when the caster dies”

sirius has always known that. it was one of the first things his tutors told him when he was barely a toddler, and it was mentioned in some hogwarts' classes once or twice.

he sometimes ponders about it, how certain magic wasn't everlasting.

he witnessed it once, in his seventh year. the war had already started, and with each passing day, more and more students got black letters delivered, all of them mentioning some recently deceased relative. it was a third year ravenclaw girl he doesn't quite remember, but who always carried a fairy doll that her uncle enchanted to act like a living one. she always carried it in her pocket and let her out when she was bored or to show it to other students.

the day she got her letter at breakfast, she frantically searched her robes and took out the little doll, and it looked just like that, a doll. no more flapping wings, tiny giggles and fairy dust, just a toy. she burst into tears then, and was inconsolable for months.

it's one of sirius' most vivid memories.

it seemed so bizarre.

he prayed something like that never happened to him, because it would hurt. it would destroy him.

he was only given enchanted things by the people he loved the most, so he would know immediately if any of the different trinkets were to just go dull. the second it happened, he would know he has to face a reality without one the fundamental beings of his very self. it terrified him.

it was one of his biggest fears.

and it happened to him.

it was a thursday afternoon.

they had a rare free day. no fights, no funerals and no war in his and remus' flat, not for that day. james and peter were there too, an 'afternoon with the lads' they called it. they were laying on the living room, sprawled all over, bowie on the record player and cards on the table along with some beers.

he was on the way to the kitchen when he felt his hair falling out of the messy bun he did in the morning.

and, with a little clink, there was a metal star hairpin on the ground.

he knew then.

it was a secret, how he kept that hairpin. well, not a secret per se, but no one knew where it actually came from. only sirius.

no one knew he had the most horrendous time trying to tie his hair when it was long enough to do so. his hair was just as temperamental as him, which meant that they usually didn't get along. he suffered for months until that hairpin was gifted to him.

sirius didn't quite know how it really worked, just that it was charmed to make everything easier. he just had to think about the hairstyle he wanted for the day, and the hairpin would do it, shrinking or getting bigger if it was necessary, securing his hair perfectly and without much fuss.

no one knew that except sirius.

and regulus, who gifted it to him in his third year.

regulus.

his baby brother.

“every magic spell ends when the caster dies”

[augustinewrites]

“what’s on these?” megumi asks, holding up a box of memory cards.

cleaning day always unearthed all types of lost and forgotten items. sometimes it was clothes long forgotten in you and gojo’s closet, other times it was the kid’s old books or toys. you knew every inch of your little apartment, so most times you could identify any mystery items that came up.

“i don’t know,” you hum, plucking a card from the box to inspect it a little more closely. the only hint as to what’s actually on it seems to just be a date.

2006

…and it’s in gojo’s handwriting.

curious, you pop one into the video player and turn on the tv. the kids join you on the couch, clearly eager to entertain any distraction from your cleaning crusade.

when the screen flickers to life, a familiar courtyard comes into view.

you can’t help the gasp when haibara comes into focus…but then you see satoru standing standing across from him, arms spread out.

“who is that?” megumi asks, pointing at haibara.

you think of the bright smile of the boy still lingering in the edges of your memory and tell him, softly, “an old friend.”

“suguru!” gojo shouts, looking towards the person holding the camera. he’s all messy hair and wide smiles, exactly how you remember him in his youth. “make sure you get this one!”

geto grumbles about how he’s paying attention, and suddenly you remember exactly what this is.

“ah, these are from when yaga would make us record ourselves practicing cursed technique application,” you explain as a haibara lines up a shot with a pencil.

the pencil hits gojo in the face, gifting him a small cut on his cheek. “ah, shit!”

behind the camera you can hear nanami and geto laughing as haibara apologizes profusely, and shoko comes over to practice her healing. you come over too, holding a cloth.

“don’t pout,” your younger self says, reaching up to wipe a thin trail of blood from his cheek. “you’ll get it next time.”

as soon you turn away, you hear geto snicker and the camera suddenly zooms in on gojo’s face.

he’s blushing.

“ugh,” you hear him groan behind the three of you, finally finished cleaning the bathroom. “are we done cleaning yet?”

“we’re taking a break!” tsumiki tells him, as megumi pops another card in.

gojo ignores megumi’s protests, stealing the spot on the couch next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders with a smirk. “move your feet, lose your seat.”

tsumiki, angel that she is, moves over so her brother can sit on your other side as the video starts.

this time, gojo is the one recording, holding the camera out so it’s pointed at his own smiling face. “haibara versus nanami, round one!”

you feel your boyfriend stiffen beside you, looking over to see an odd look on his face. “oh, fuck—”

“jar,” megumi says flatly.

he glares at the kid, and is about to get up when you stop him. “wait! i want to watch this!”

he slumps back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he groans dramatically. ignoring him, you watch the fight play out, which ends with haibara whining whilst in a headlock.

you hear geto’s murmured commentary off camera as nanami releases his classmate, expecting the video to zoom in on the victor.

but it drifts a little to the left, where you’re laughing with shoko on the sidelines.

“so obvious,” geto scoffs. the video wobbles for a moment before being pointed directly at the tips of satoru’s shoes, then ends abruptly.

when you glance over at satoru, he’s pulled his sunglasses over his eyes as if they can hide his pink cheeks.

the next videos are similar. memories of your past viewed through a different lens, showing you things you’d never picked up on when you were living them.

some moments you watch with an aching heart. like when suguru leans close to you and makes a joke at satoru’s expense, or when you reach up to ruffle haibara’s hair.

(moments with cherished friends proving that the grief of losing them never got any lighter as you moved forward with your life, but at some point you’d just gotten used to carrying the weight.)

but what might be most interesting is seeing yourself in satoru’s eyes.

his focus, whether he was the one holding the camera or not, always seemed to drift to you. for all the times he’d denied crushing on you in your early years, the camera proves otherwise.

the way he peeks at you shyly as you fix your hair before a fight.

the way he reaches out instinctively whenever you’re knocked backwards.

the way he smiles brightly whenever you laugh at one of his jokes.

the way your gaze would occasionally meet his, and his smile seemed to come naturally.

“okay, that’s enough for tonight,” satoru announces, shutting the tv off and shooing the children away. “go clean your rooms, you freeloaders.”

you stand, looping your arms around his neck before he can run away. smiling, you gently pull his glasses off, tossing them onto the couch.

“hey! those are gucci—”

you shut him up with a kiss, feeling the way his lips curve upwards against yours. “i love you, you know that?”

blue eyes meet yours, the pensive look he’d been wearing melting into something a little softer. something reserved for you. “you’re obsessed with me, i know.”

you simply laugh, letting him dip down to give you another kiss.

(because you’d had his heart in your pocket long before either of you had realized.)