#also I think I did the speech bubbles wrong but whatever

[velvet-games]

vox needs to go to bed

[crepes-suzette-373]

I might be overthinking again, but Ichiji being singled out in a panel with that "..." speech bubble right after Judge was saying "Don't do anything stupid" is... a little suspect.

That panel is being presented as just transition panel showing the siblings standing up from the chair and walking away, but "..." speech bubbles always gives off the sense of "unspoken thoughts/feelings". Especially with Sanji also having a "..." bubble in the panel right next to it.

We can't know for certain if he really was plotting anything and, if he was, what it was unless Germa comes back for real, but the various suspicious points about Ichiji suggest that he's not a yes man who is in full lock step with Judge. He's either playing along to make sure Judge doesn't find out his sneaky plans for the time being, or he's just trying to not "rock the boat" in this Big Mum situation because she is not someone they can take on if anything goes wrong.

Assuming this theory is right, then, maybe what he's trying to do is preventing the Germa ships from being sent out for whatever reason.

The text that I marked with blue says "You should be aware of our mobility (機動力)" in the raw. 機動力 refers to the mobility of armed forces, with an implication of high speed. Maybe Ichiji's panel there affirms that this is no empty threat and if Sanji did try to do anything, ships will be sent out.

Maybe he's planning something that requires them to get over with the wedding first, and Sanji doing something wild that gets the Germa ships mobilised to attack the hostages can ruin his plans. Or he thinks they need to have all their army on hand just in case something did go wrong because he already doesn't trust Big Mum.

Or, for a more generous interpretation, maybe he actually doesn't want hostages killed and was trying to save them. Who knows.

[salteytakesonmanga]

I know it's rare for ANY translation to do so, especially English to/from Japanese since the languages are so dissimilar, but can you think of any time where a translation added to a scene, or made it better in your opinion?

Oh plenty of times! There’s even one in this chapter. I try to call them out when I notice them because I appreciate them myself. I don’t have a specific tag for them, though.

The thing is…

Sorry, Anon. You accidentally triggered one of my rants. If you just wanted an answer it's up there ⬆️

Good translations are not rare. Good translations aren’t even rare in manga anymore. The reason a lot of people think of all translations as bad is because people used to not take translations of manga seriously. They wouldn’t give it any care or attention, they’d just whip off whatever sounded close enough, and if they got whole-ass words wrong here or there then it didn’t really matter. Because it’s just comics, right? Who cares about that kiddie crap.

Translation - good translation - is HARD. It’s not just understanding two languages. Linguistic differences between source and translated language are not the reasons translations turn out bad. It’s cultural differences. You have to understand the literature and art and history of both languages, because that informs the environment that the author wrote in and the environment the readers are reading in. You have to make sure someone can just pick it up and read. Giving people cultural context in asides and footnotes and a glossary is great and all, but the experience of reading should be about the TEXT, not about the language. A good translator has to know about cultural and regional backgrounds and tensions in both languages.

Turning a Kansai accent into a Southern accent is a great example of what NOT to do, because the two regions have vastly different cultures that aren’t comparable. An easy illustration is that the stereotype about Southerners is they’re very polite and gracious and charming and speak slowly, while the stereotype about people from Kansai is they’re blunt and aggressive and outgoing and speak fast. But it was the industry standard for years to just slap a “funny accent” on any character speaking with a dialect.

On top of all of those concerns, comics has the additional limitation of space. The translation must meet all of the previous requirements, and also fit into a speech bubble. There is no getting around that. You have to sacrifice meaning somewhere in situations like that, and in an ongoing series with as many twists and late reveals as One Piece it can be hard to guess which word is the one that is crucial to the plot.

There are times I definitely think the translators did a great job, it's usually most noticeable with wordplay and puns, but I'm not sure "better than the original" is how I'd describe that. I think it’s very risky for a translator to try to make the work “better.” The original Swedish translation of Dracula did that back in the day and what they wound up publishing was basically fanfic. (It’s supposed to be really fucking good, though. It just has no more than a passing resemblance to Dracula.)

What does “better” look like? Is it when everything makes sense and is easy to read? But maybe the author wanted this scene to be challenging so you’d slow down and think about it. Is it when you take that random joke out of the serious scene? But maybe that joke was there to balance out the tension of the scene. Is it when the characters always act the way you expect them to? But characters, like people, have contradictions and inconsistencies, and if you take those out the character will be flat and boring.

That’s why I think a good translation is one where the translator is invisible. If they’ve done their job right, you should never think about them. But then, if they’re that good, it’s easy to forget how hard they work to get the product that good. And that’s when people start to think we don’t need translators, we have language learning models and machine translation… But that’s a different rant for another time.

Side note, Viz still pays actual human translators for their work. So do Yen Press and Seven Seas, last time I checked. I’m not about to tell you to NOT pirate shit, but if you buy one of their books you’re actually paying for a person to translate it.

Anyway, sorry/thank you for giving me an opportunity to rant about this. As you can see, it means a lot to me.

[jamorbital]

Mailbag ✉️

@the-andyeah:

A long time ago, years before I started posting, a German artist by the name of GagSnob did a piece showing a series of heads with a step-by-step multi-layered gag. AFAIK that was the first and only instance of anything like that before I showed up. (Please correct me if I'm wrong.) I'm not even sure when it was originally from—I'm guessing early 00's, maybe even earlier. I wish I could find it now.

I didn't see it until some time later, but that was what started it for me. I was like "Wow, this is hot! I want to try!" Then over time, some other artists and I gradually took it further and further and it just kind of became a thing.

Sometimes I wonder who first came up with the idea of layering gags. This is the earliest reference to the concept that I'm aware of. 1994!

@sinknighteye:

Mostly no! At this point I feel pretty free to just do whatever I like.

However, I've long had this very specific idea in my head for a scene with... (more below)

...a character bound, gagged, and bent over a table, getting gangbanged by a group of big mean girls (with dicks!) like the ones from this.

One girl would be ramming her from behind, bent over her, with one hand against the back of her head and the other clamped over her gagged mouth. The rest of them would be standing around the table and stroking themselves, maybe making some lewd, dominating comments in speech bubbles.

I tried drawing it once, but it was a mess. It's pretty hard to get it the way I'm picturing it. Even if I could pull it off, I don't know if my audience would go for something that raunchy, and I'm pretty sure it would violate the rules of most platforms I post on anyway. Maybe someday though!

@maidmarble:

Thank you! It's a weird little point of pride for me when people tell me I gave them a new kink. Hope you enjoy what you find here!

@somespicycheese:

Put that on a piece of paper and I will sign it 💯

@laza-2:

Wow, that's hard. Umm...

Cyndi Lauper - Time After Time Black Flag - Rise Above Breakfast Club - Never Be The Same Nujabes - Luv(sic) pt.2 Mariah Carey - Fantasy

Also, I know most people probably think of it as a meme, but Plastic Love is genuinely such a perfect song. (Oops, that was 6.)

@gayest-of-spuds:

Wow, that's great! I'm really glad you like her. (For people who don't know Dahlia yet, here she is.)

Thank you for the kind word! Hope you have a good day too!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Cursed Cards - Part 3

So, here is the last part of this...

It was an honour and a pleasure to collaborate with @sauroff on this silly slice of pure happiness.

Thank you for all those who were with me on this ride.

-> Part 1 -> Part 2

Fingon's POV ⬇️

Maedhros' POV ⬇️

Cursed Cards - Part 3

Words: 3,2 k

Warnings: Russingon (still half-cousin incest in canon)

Context: Continuation and final instalment of this!

As promised, Maglor organised a merry get-together soon after. His allegiance to his oldest brother, as it turned out, was only too easily undermined by the chance to kill two birds with one stone.

Hence why he sat, smug and trembling with anticipation, on Fingolfin’s very own armchair and waited for the avalanche of haphazard greetings to ebb off. He was particularly proud to have gotten his whole family – minus his indisposed father – to visit Fingon’s in a post-Christmas massacre of warmed-up leftovers and piping hot gossip.

“Oh, mum,” Fingon squeaked upon seeing the picture he had entrusted to his mother in confidence prominently displayed on the dining room table. “Russo won’t like it.”

He was right; Maedhros blanched at the sight and backed away into Caranthir to bar his way and – if possible – his line of sight on the offending cliché.

“But…” Anairë started, seeking Nerdanel’s gaze and then whirling around to stare at Maglor who – in turn – only grinned and shrugged lightly.

Ever the showman, the second-born son of the suspicious mother of seven who was now also narrowing her eyes at him had evidently not been able to resist a dramatic reveal of the photograph he had secured through charm and graceful nagging.

“It’s so nice that you and the children could come,” Anairë chirped; she didn’t comment on Fëanor’s absence though and waved Nerdanel into her living room enthusiastically.

“It was ever so good of you to invite us,” Nerdanel replied in the same cheerful tone. “Few people are willing nowadays to put up with all seven of my bra…erm, sons.” She winked.

“You’re family after all,” the other woman said good-humouredly and handed Nerdanel an elegant glass filled with a bubbly, sweet-smelling cocktail. “My husband’s latest concoction,” she explained with a fond smile thrown at the man standing in a corner as if he was surrounded by rabid dogs.

“What is he up to?” Nerdanel muttered under her breath as her eyes were inexorably drawn back to Maglor; she knew her children well and could always tell when one of them was about to cause a ruckus. “That smile never bodes well.”

“Oh Nelyo, brother mine,” Maglor called in a singsong voice across the room when he realised that he had to act quickly before his mother could somehow foil his great master plan. “Come over here; I have a gift for you, my dearest sibling.”

Maedhros flinched violently; being dubbed Maglor’s favourite brother always meant that one was his next victim. A quick glance at the others only confirmed this: Moryo was backing away slowly while Tyelko drew nearer with a bloodthirsty smile.

“You’re done,” one of the twins hooted and then both went to perch on the armrests of Maglor’s throne to be certain they’d have front-row seats to whatever bloodbath was about to take place.

“What is going on?” Turgon – still hovering by the door as if ready to take off at the drop of a hat – asked warily. “’Rissë?”

“Hey! I’ve got nothing to do with this, I think, do I?” She turned to her mother who merely gave her an encouraging, indulgent smile.

Anairë would not have said so out loud, but she did enjoy the tremulous anticipation in the room.

“Ah, you do me wrong and wound me deeply,” Maglor exclaimed and put the back of his hand to his brow in a gesture of mental torment. “It is a token of my love and respect that I am about to hand over to my esteemed older brother.”

As the last notes of his dramatic speech echoed in the sudden silence, he whipped out a little piece of paper and extended it to Maedhros who was advancing cautiously towards that outstretched hand.

If Maglor had expected amusement or even mockery from him, he was sorely disappointed though for Maedhros’ eyes grew round and glassy with some deep, unspoken emotion.

“What is it?” Fingon stepped up behind him; unlike his boyfriend, he immediately broke into merry chuckles. “Oh yes, I remember that one. Don’t be fooled by the picture, Argon is a biter and my sister is actually having the time of her life.”

Maedhros’ eyes flitted over to Aredhel who had schooled her face into a mien of perfectly innocent maidenhood.

“Finno, my love,” he then whispered, “why did you not try to restrain your siblings? I dare say Turgon was not enjoying himself!”

Fingon’s face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to cast his mind back to the exact moment that picture had been taken; he remembered his mother’s sundress and the smell of the forest as if it had been yesterday, but other details were slower in returning to him.

“I must have seen something,” he muttered, gazing into his own eyes – huge in a face he barely recognised as his – as if to find the truth in their shining febrility.

“It was that boy,” Turgon grunted acidly from his vantage point. “Tallish kid, kept mostly to himself…We all saw you stealing glances at him whenever you got the chance. You are not discreet, Fin.”

A pensive, shrewd light came into his eyes as his own sharp mind raced back through time.

“Wait a minute,” he whispered and stepped closer to the group huddled around a smirking Maglor and looked from Fingon to Maedhros meditatively.

“I don’t remember,” Argon said quickly; he didn’t like the way his two older brothers were staring at each other intensely. Whatever mischief they had buried in the past, he wanted no part in it.

“’Rissë had taken away Argon’s bow and they were fighting,” Fingon started to reconstruct the scene in the picture. “I can hear their laughter and the threatening clacking of their teeth in my mind.”

His mind was piecing together the fragments of memory diluted and washed away in the ocean of time and his brow creased in concentration; this had been an important summer for him, he knew, but the specifics escaped his fumbling brain stubbornly.

“I was elbowed by that creature pretending to be our sister,” Turgon supplied readily, tapping his finger at his own pained face in the photo. “And you were staring at that other kid. I remember thinking that he was a most unfortunate-looking creature on account of his complexion. He was also…”

“Covered in kids,” Fingon finished his sentence in a hiss. “He was a rare sight because he was running after other kids all the time. Did he work there?”

“No,” Maglor cut in with a feline grin. “He was the oldest of 7. His complexion is still deplorable, as is his fashion sense.”

Ever since getting the picture, he had talked to both his own mother and Anairë in search of the reason for Fingon’s obvious distractedness. Moreover, he had stared at it in private as well, trying to remember these children.

The crux of the matter had finally come to him in a dream; he had at least seen Fingon before, usually standing at the edge of his field of vision whenever Maedhros had come to hound him about one thing or the other.

“What?” Fingon exclaimed in alarm and amazement.

“Tall, skinny dude, copper-haired, milk-skinned, always dragging around at least one feral youngster, ring any bells?” Maglor enumerated complacently, ticking off his arguments on his fingers. “The red shirts, the haunted look in his eyes, the overabundance of clinking jewellery he didn’t take care of half as well as he should have? No? Nothing?”

Fingon turned his face up to Maedhros, his eyes huge and wet. “You…YOU? My first real crush? My first heartbreak?”

As his eyes closed in slow-motion, everything rushed back like a deluge of colour and sound.

“Of course,” he croaked. “I had never seen anyone half as beautiful; you were the very picture of poise and consummate grace.”

Maedhros guffawed, thus breaking the spell of Fingon’s tender recollections.

“I remember this day as well,” he admitted. “I was everything but graceful.” He shot a withering stare at his youngest brothers and – touching his fingertips to Fingon’s hip as if to make sure he was really there – he gave a deep, heartfelt sigh of embarrassment.

“Go on, dear,” Anairë prompted; after all the sleuthing she had done with Maglor, she couldn’t deny that she was curious as to how that scene she and her husband had laughed about privately many a time over the years had looked like from the other side. “Tell us!”

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Maedhros banned his brothers from Maglor’s armchair and sat down heavily himself.

“It was family day, as we have established,” he then started narrating in a strained voice, “and I had lost the twins. In my defence, I had managed to get all the others somewhat clean and ready, but the twins were nowhere to be found. Your kind nature deceives you, Finno my love, for I was running around like a headless chicken – sweating, dishevelled, and blotchy with stress – in search of that demon spawn, forgive me, mother.”

He shot a pleading, apologetic look at Nerdanel and passed a pale hand over his gorgeous face at the memory of his helpless turmoil.

“My father even reprimanded me later for looking so badly put together,” Maedhros went on, seeking his mother’s eyes for confirmation.

“We’re sorry, Nelyo,” the twins chimed unisono. “We were still young and thought it was funny.”

“You’d still think it funny,” Maglor murmured under his voice but didn’t interrupt his eldest brother in his reminiscence of the chaotic past.

Fingon’s eyes were wide and open as he took in the man he loved and his wicked brothers arrayed around him like guardian angels or hungry wolf pups.

“No wonder you never noticed me,” he joked in what he wanted to be a light tone, but a sliver of pain still stabbed through the airy cloth of his melodious voice.

“Oh,” Maedhros groaned, “I did.”

“You did?” Fingon almost yelled, elbowing Celegorm out of the way – a perfect imitation of his sister’s childhood crime – to kneel by Maedhros’ feet and look up at him, spellbound by the confessions that might well heal his heart.

“Of course I did,” Maedhros laughed, a little strained. “You hung around a lot, you know? Thrice I wanted to go talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“The first time, as I had brushed my hair and tucked my shirt into my shorts to look less like the gangly ghost I apparently was, Tyelko decided to throw Moryo’s best clothes into the lake.” Maedhros grimaced.

“Oh…” Fingon could not see why that would have kept Maedhros from pursuing his own plans.

“I was wearing said clothes when they took their fatal dip,” Caranthir supplied in a dangerously flat voice.

Nerdanel sucked her teeth disapprovingly at that; she then nodded at her oldest to go on ratting his brothers out.

“You were bullied a tad that summer, I remember…” Maglor interjected in mellow accents of casual empathy.

“Thank you for reminding me, yes,” Maedhros stage-whispered and jabbed his long, narrow index into his brother’s ribs with punitive force. “I was led to believe that my looks were cause for considerable distress amongst my fellow campers; hence why I endeavoured earnestly to present myself in a soigné fashion. Not that I could hold up that state of neatness for any prolonged period of time, thanks to some people in this very room.”

“The next time,” he then returned resolutely to his tale of woe, “this one screamed bloody murder. Turns out, his harp string had snapped, and he was out of new ones. That was all. I raced across the compound in a blind panic to find that ass lamenting one of five instruments he had brought.” Another vicious poke followed which Maglor accepted magnanimously.

“In the end,” the so-blighted musician then added his own dramatic conclusion to his part in this sordid recounting, “I just played on the strings left to me.”

Fingon was enthralled by the developments and revelations unfurling before him; he barely dared to breathe for fear of disrupting the magic.

“After thus being called names by other campers all summer long,” Maedhros picked up his tale again when Maglor had finished his aside, “I understandably took special pains to look as nice as I could in hopes of making a new friend. And then there was a fire in Curvo’s hall.”

“Good dramatic pacing,” Maglor praised under his breath.

“It was,” Maedhros continued in an imitation of old taletellers’ ominous voices, “Curvo’s fire. He had set his own building aflame.”

“Oh no,” Fingon squeaked.

“What?” Nerdanel expostulated.

“Ooops,” Curufin breathed and immediately started mobilising his puppy eyes to disarm his mother’s ire.

“By the time family day rolled around, I had given up on making new friends,” Maedhros finished and bowed his head to his mother. “I commend you, mother, for I spent that summer dirty, unkempt, and constantly miserable on account of those creatures you claim as your progeny.”

Nerdanel gave a little chuckle and stepped forward to cup his flaming cheek lovingly. “You’ve done well, my beautiful boy,” she whispered as she kissed the top of his head, “and both your father and I are so thankful to you.”

Maedhros’ eyes returned to the photograph in his lap and his tense mien relaxed into boundless fondness.

“I shall cherish this,” he sighed, “thank you Káno for getting it.”

“Auntie and I have done our best.” Maglor crooned, basking in his victory.

“Auntie?” several people exclaimed.

“My brother’s mother-in-law,” Maglor smiled suavely, “is almost my auntie, no?”

“A pleasure, I am sure,” Anairë reassured him, ignoring the choked sputter coming from her husband’s fortification in the far corner. If Fingolfin decided to retreat even further, he’d end up stuck behind the armoire, she was quite sure, but there were too many children in the room for her to worry about her spouse on top of everything.

“I am sorry that we didn’t get to be friends that summer,” Maedhros then said softly to Fingon. “I am now sure that we would have gotten along splendidly.”

He got up and pulled his beloved to his feet as well.

“You were so very handsome too,” he breathed into Fingon’s ear, darkened with embarrassment and emotion. “I quite enjoyed your joyful attire and bright smile. I still do. The crocs are a very nice touch, I dare say!”

Fingon groaned and tried to snatch the picture out of Maedhros’ hands; unfortunately, his own attempts at petty thievery had schooled and honed Maedhros’ skills and he turned around in a flash of copper and red.

Burying his face in that broad, strong back he had seen once too often during that accursed summer, Fingon let the shame wash over him. Not only had Turgon – and probably Aredhel – been aware of his crush, but it had also been revealed tonight that he had inadvertently ended up dating the very same boy he had not even dared approach back then.

"Was I very foolish? Following you around like a lost pup?” he mumbled into the thick, fragrant sweater of his one true love.

“Not at all,” Maedhros swore, his eyes drinking in every detail of the photograph still. “You were tantalisingly out of reach.”

He felt a mix of humility and deep tenderness at the sight of that young boy, staring wistfully into the distance; those expressive eyes and the curve of that sensual mouth – quick to smile and delicious to kiss – were as familiar as his own face to him and yet, this photograph seemed an invaluable treasure, a slice of an irretrievable past, which he’d honour and guard forever.

“I should have known,” Fingon groaned.

“I…did not make the connection either,” Maedhros admitted, “until I saw the picture and it all came back to me.”

Louder then, he called Maglor out for staging a whole production and exposing them to ridicule and familial jeering.

“It would have been less funny if we couldn’t witness the moment the extent of your combined idiocy dawns on you,” Maglor replied, unabashed and not in the least contrite.

“We’re the prisoners of these creatures,” Maedhros sighed. “Until my dying day, I shall keep, defend, and amuse them, it seems.”

“You and me both,” Fingon said gently, slinging his strong arms around Maedhros’ waist and giving him a comforting, strengthening squeeze.

“Actually,” Caranthir said after clearing his throat and exchanging a cold, efficient gaze with Turgon, “we have another Christmas gift for you.”

Wary, Maedhros and Fingon spun around, still holding on to each other tightly, to face the catalysts of chaos and mayhem that were their collective siblings.

“As we have ruined Christmas,” Celegorm jumped in.

“And Summer Camp,” Aredhel chirped.

“Family Day,” Argon muttered.

“Several dates,” Curufin added with a perfect imitation of repentant innocence.

“Most of your carefree days, I admit,” Maglor cut in; he was an accomplished, compelling orator and loved to hear himself sway an audience. “We thought we’d make it up to you.”

“Also, nobody really wants to see you two in shorts ever again,” Turgon commented, sharp-tongued but not without affection.

An envelope was handed to Maedhros who opened it with trembling fingers and gasped.

“Having that many siblings has its perks,” Maglor babbled with uncontained enthusiasm. “It means that we could all chip in and buy you a truly nice holiday to a destination far, far away. A week at the beach, without any of us, doesn’t that sound nice?”

Spluttering, Maedhros burst into laughter as he and Fingon were overwhelmed with frantic hugs and sloppy kisses from their siblings.

“Happy Holidays!”

“You deserve it!”

“Ey,” Aredhel smirked, “we do like you two fools, you know that, right?”

“Don’t miss us too much,” Maglor grinned as he bathed in the light of his brother’s boundless joy. “You’ve done much for us, Nelyo, and we are aware of it. Take this with our compliments; dive into your memories in the privacy of a beach cabana or so.”

“Wear those terrible clothes where nobody can connect you to us,” Caranthir hissed, reaping an approving nod from Turgon.

“That’s incredible, thanks gang!” Fingon was the first to thaw out of his shock; he had never resented his siblings for their natures and needs and so, he was deeply touched by their secret collaboration with his in-laws to come up with such a beautiful gift.

Maedhros’ arms were solid and warm around his shoulders, and he could barely wait to feel them skin-on-skin in the blazing sun of a tropical island while they swam in a deep, blue ocean.

It would be wonderful, he was sure.

“Hmmm, what a surprise,” Maedhros whispered into his ear; he was flushed with wonder and happiness and looked so much more like the boy Fingon only dimly remembered. Past, present, and future blended into a kaleidoscope of red and blue, of copper and black, of marble and ebony and Fingon was afraid he’d burst if he tried to contain the sheer beatitude thrumming in his chest.

“We’ll miss them though, won’t we?” he asked under his breath.

“Just a little,” Maedhros replied and kissed his brow in a rare moment of impulsive tenderness that promptly elicited hoots and groans from the brood of their younger, truly childish siblings.

“Son,” Nerdanel interrupted the brouhaha of thanks and jibes, “send us some pictures, yes? For the next Christmas!”

So, that was that! Thank you for indulging me and make sure to show @sauroff your love and appreciation.

Best wishes for the end of 2022 and - of course - for 2023 as well!

Lots of love!

[linesonscreens]

Let's Read Peanuts (Yes, all of it) - October 1951

There are lots of great strips I just don't have room to comment on. I strongly encourage everybody to read the full month at the official GoComics page. Today's month starts HERE.

Oct 2, 1951

In case you were wondering if Schroeder every plays normal pianos.

Oct 5, 1951

As a former Barnes & Noble employee I take comfort in knowing that this is a problem as old as the written word. Ancient Mesopotamian priests would find copies of the Epic of Gilgamesh scattered all over their temples and would periodically have to remove the chairs to keep teenagers from loitering after the harvest. Such is the natural order of the world.

Oct 9, 1951

What are they singing? Wrong answers only.

Oct 10, 1951

First "Schroeder loves Beethoven (possibly in a romantic sense)" comic!

Oct 13, 1951

Pictured: Me and my friends last night trying to figure out what Steam game to play.

Oct 16, 1951

What did you do, Chuck!?

Oct 17, 1951

The quicksandbox was actually one of the safer toys kids had in 1951.

Oct 24, 1951

You can really tell that Schulz grew up with dogs as a kid.

Oct 26, 1951

Yup, mudpies sure are still a thing.

Oct 31, 1951

“DID THAT DOG JUST FUCKING TALK!?”

Thoughts:

Happy Halloween everybody!*

Did you notice that backgrounds are becoming more common? They don't really start to shine until Sunday strips become a thing but I think they're already pretty good. I particularly like how effectively they convey the mood of a location despite being incredibly simple.

Which isn't an accident if you stop and think about it. Peanuts was used as a filler strip of sorts and would often be used in non-comic newspaper sections when they needed to fill just a little bit of space to make all the text fit correctly. Because of this it would often be printed at a fairly small size which meant that if Schulz used too much detail a strip could easily become an incomprehensible mess when it actually reached readers. As a result Schulz developed a style that's incredibly efficient in how it communicates information. You can see this in the way he draws backgrounds but also in how he draws characters, props, speech bubbles, and just about everything else (big heads, simple features, as few words as necessary, and a heavy emphasis on using value and composition to create visual interest). It's really damn impressive if you know what to look for.

"The art is good so pay attention to it" is my point, I guess.

Or don't. Whatever. I'm not your dad (no matter what the courts keep saying).

*Please bookmark this post and then read it on the next available October 31st for the maximum emotional impact. TIA.

[zetathedraconequus]

A small rambling mess of a speech for Lucky

Whew ok ten years. Should of like planned for this given I've known this is going to be his tenth year since like February. Got no art. Got no party. Man I suck huh? But uh. Anyways. It's luckys 10th birthday. Well technically the 10th anniversary of us meeting. Hes 26 now. Which meant he was 16 when we met. I was 10. I've either had his plush for ten years or just under I can't really remember. His eyes have uh, darkened because my dumbass keeps rubbing him against the oilest face known to man kind. His skin has like more of a grey-bluish tint compared to a new plush. I want this plush to last forever but I'm also not ready to replace or alter him. Got off focus there. Right. Lucky. He's been through three main generation-changes. The latest one and the one people probably know the best is Gen 3, which is like 8 years now? 6th grade, yeah that'll be 8. I'm kinda just writing this as I'm thinking but I just don't really have anything. Everything that's been known has been said already by me many many times. He's my best friend and family. He's been with me through everything. From small shit like falling off a bike, to going through my parents divorce and going to the mental hospital. He's always protected me from danger, shouting out or pulling me back from cars or alerting me of something just *wrong*. When I've had nightmares he'll stand there just watching me to make sure I feel safe. If I'm cold he'll try to wrap me in his wings or share his sweather. He wipes my tears away and gives me the strength to pursue on. He sits by me when I'm sick and even if he doesn't say anything or do anything I just know that he's always there. Even if sometimes I can't see him, I just know if I call out he'll respond and be here. He really is my everything, and that's not even including the adventures I've had with him. Spiders and slime and one time he got covered in honey which attracted a lot of bees and well...

I've helped him as well..or at least I like to think so.I know that sometimes he feels as If he can't come to me for whatever reason or that I wouldn't understand. Sometimes I don't. We live different lives so I can understand that. Maybe he's afraid that I'll think less of him. Buddy I've seen you passed out in the alley and I still love you. I'll drag your ass out of there over and over and over again and never think less of you. I know you're listening somewhere, you're always listening in, I can't have a single private thought to myself. Even if you won't exactly tell me what's going on I just know that your silence speaks volumes, especially when its connected with a bottle. You've been through so much shit. You've done so much shit. You're not the Saint or the angel and I don't expect that from you. I love you and hold onto you with all of your problems. Your baggage. Your addictions. Your attitude. Because I know that you would do the same for me. Even if I call you out on your actions, you've done the exact same shit for me and so I don't want to hear that you think I'll think less of you.

I'm rambling and got off task there.

You're attached to me. Literally. You did some shit, yes I'm blaming you, and now we're stuck together through life and death. I know you're going to haunt me, if not then I'm haunting you. I can't imagine a life without you because I truly don't think I would have one without you. That's not really being metaphorical either. I want to create to *be* closer to you. I picked up drawing so that way I could look at you. I picked up plush making so I could hold you. I started cosplay so I could be you. I try new foods because you're glaring at me and calling me a bubble blowing baby if I don't. I picked up drinking tea because you really liked it. Surprise I like it too. I don't think people understand that we are a package deal. Even if the bond isn't nearly as close or they don't understand really, If I like them then I want them to know about you. They don't have to love you or understand Who you are or what you do for me and with me, but they don't have to. They just have to know that you exist and you're important. That's all I ask. If they can't accept you then I just can't have a true bond with them. Simple as that. There is no way around it. And if they do accept and understand then it's even better. I wish more people could come to your birthday besides those just kinda in the dome, but I guess we gotta make it work. Who knows. Maybe in ten years we'll have more people.

I love you. All variations. All iterations. Lucky. FTL. El. Even the bad ones like Evilous and Foyzur. Because they're all different sides of you and I would be a hypocrite to not accept one of them. I still find it so silly how you, yes you Lucky, fight with the rest of them. You really all got that superiority complex don't you?

This is all of yours birthday. We're making the cake to reflect that. Maybe I'll make a better art piece then the silly cake doodle I made. But anyways I'm running out of words and thoughts. You've been quiet today, I'll wait for you to speak. I will say there is just one question.

Why are you British.

I did not make you like that, dummy.

Love- ZetaTheDraconequus

[radiantlyrey]

Doctor Who Review: S1/S14E05 - Dot and Bubble

Note: this review is a little all over the place. I tried to cover the important stuff. Please let me know if this comes off as self-centered or whatever. Please.

Something is wrong in the city of Finetime. People are going missing, but the disappearances aren't really noticed. Lindy Pepper-Bean hasn't noticed, and it's only when she's contacted by the Doctor and Ruby Sunday that she begins to peek outside her bubble and find out what's really going on. Slug-like creatures are eating the people of Finetime, and it's up to the Doctor and Ruby to get as many people out as they can before the entire populace is devoured.

SPOILERS (and also discussion of my white cluelessness) AFTER THE CUT

At first blush, “Dot and Bubble” seems to be slightly preachy in tone, exhorting the apparent evils of living in a social media bubble (in this case, a very literal one) and relying on technology to the point that one's self-reliance disappears. From what chatter I've seen online, these parts of the story are meant to be a sort of riff on the usual Black Mirror plot of "technology bad". (Having never watched Black Mirror, I'll have to take the internet's word on this.) It turns out that this is a feint, because the episode is actually about racism.

It's at this part of the review that I have to be frank and honest with you: I did not realize this episode was about racism until I saw people talking about it online afterwards.

I'm white, and I didn't notice that everyone in Finetime was white until someone else pointed it out. And it's funny, because I do usually notice and am pleased when a show or movie I watch is diverse. But as "Dot and Bubble" has revealed to me, I don't usually notice when a show or movie I watch is populated entirely by white people, which means I've got some internal biases I've got examine.

In fact, me not even realizing what this episode was really about until someone else pointed it out says a lot about me. It says that, just like the people of Finetime, I live in a bubble. And I do! I live in a largely white town, and my few friends are white, and I mostly live in this bubble of whiteness and don't question it or try to expand my horizons! I like to think of myself as progressive, and I try my best to not be actively racist--but racism isn't just an activity! It's also, for a lot of people like me, a passivity. I benefit from racism every day as a white person! And I've never really stopped to examine this and what it means for me, nor have I thought about what I've got to change about myself and my thinking in order to let go of these internal biases and prejudices. “Dot and Bubble” called me out very effectively, and it left me with the realization that I have to do better.

And that's what Russell T Davies is trying to say with this story. Lindy and the other people of Finetime live in bubbles that are both literal and figurative--the digital bubble that holds their social media, the actual bubble that protects their city from the "Wild Woods", and the bubble of whiteness that permeates their entire society. On a rewatch, the racism throughout this episode becomes obvious. Lindy reacts with disgust when she first sees the Doctor, and she thinks everything he says to her is condescending. She thinks the Doctor is a different person when he reappears later, saying that she "thought [he] just looked the same". While she's much more lenient with Ruby, Lindy is still aghast when she realizes Ruby and the Doctor are in the same room. This plays into her speech to the Doctor in the final scene, when what has thus far been subtext becomes, all at once, text.

Part of what makes this episode so effective, I think, is in the way that it doesn't overtly focus on the racism. It doesn't make it into A Thing at all. Instead, the script and the visuals lay it out for us without drawing overt attention to it. The racism is there, but the episode waits for the audience to discover it. Compared to how previous episodes of Doctor Who have dealt with (or outright ignored) racism, it's a refreshing strategy, not least because it asks the audience to be aware of how their biases make them perceive things.

Another thing I found interesting about this episode is the way it positions Lindy (portrayed by Callie Cooke in an excellent performance) as the de facto main character of the episode. It uses her position within the narrative to obfuscate the primary theme a little; I know I was more inclined to forgive her shortcomings because of that. At first, Lindy just seems overwhelmed about her situation and maybe in denial that anything is wrong, but as the episode continues, that mask starts to slip a little, and then a lot. We learn that Lindy and the people of Finetime are, in essence, the rich kids of their homeworld, which explains a lot of her general attitude of snobbishness (repeatedly calling Ruby "stupid" for example). But when her Dot loses power and she's on her own, we start to see a little of what she's actually like. She thinks meeting Ricky September makes this the greatest day of her life (even though, as Ricky points out, thousands of people are dying horribly all around them). As the Doctor and Ruby figure out the methodology of the slug creatures, Lindy's overall self-obsession becomes clear. She wails that the creatures are coming after her, rather than realizing that she's just the next person in a very long list of people.

But the final nail in the coffin comes at the episode's climax. Lindy's Dot has gone rogue and is trying to kill her. Ricky fights it off, but it knocks him in the head to slow him down and comes after Lindy. Without hesitation, Lindy tells the Dot that Ricky changed his last name, and that the Dots and their creatures should have killed him much earlier in their alphabetical rampage. While Ricky is summarily killed, Lindy escapes and walks away to freedom. She lies about what happened to Ricky, and that, apparently, is that.

Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't talk about the final scene. The people who escaped from Finetime have decided to strike out for the wilderness. The Doctor offers to take them to safety in the TARDIS, but Lindy and the others reject him for no other reason than that he's Black, and that's unacceptable to them, and against the "standards of Finetime". Ncuti Gatwa has been a powerhouse thus far this series (excepting "73 Yards", which he was barely in because of prior filming obligations), and his performance in this scene is electric. The Doctor desperately tries to get the Finetime group to come with him, but they walk away, taking their boat down the river. He laughs in disbelief that turns in an instant to anger. He leaves in the TARDIS with tears on his face. He could be mourning the people of Finetime, but it seems more likely to me that he can't believe they care more about maintaining their prejudice and racism than their own survival.

This ending is what cements the greatness of "Dot and Bubble" as an episode. It doesn't end happily. There is no fanfare of success. The Doctor couldn't save the people of Finetime from their intolerance. It's a bit of a bummer, but it needs to be to drive home the primary theme. Racism is insidious, but it's also a choice, and people like me have to choose to be better if we're all going to survive.

[feekins]

no purple highlighter today bc no spoons, but here are my thoughts and things and whatever translation weirdness I find as I re-read ch 2 of Trigun Maximum vol 7!

(NOTE: I'm reading the Dark Horse [physical] and the Overhaul [online] translations side-by-side)

(Dark Horse on top, Overhaul on bottom)

o hello, painfully accurate depiction of a panic attack 🥲

(also more nuance with the Overhaul's "There's only us")

again, nuance! ty, Overhaul!

idr whether or not someone's already talked about this, but...this has me thinking back to that panel in Trigun Maximum vol 2 ch 4 - where Wolfwood has Vash holding a gun to his head, and Vash says (quoting the Overhaul) "No matter what you do...you give up all hope so easily."

like...obviously, Vash has been there. but it's hitting me especially hard this read-through that Rem has likely been there, too.

(also, it's interesting to note Dark Horse's passive wording in "let go of everything" VS the Overhaul's more active "throw away everything")

I like the way the Overhaul handles the "flow" of these speech bubbles - it feels very natural to how someone might speak (in English, I mean - I imagine this is another place where Dark Horse went with a more literal translation). I also find the Overhaul's wording choice of "kept having"...idk, more compelling? 😮

(Dark Horse on left, Overhaul on right)

"nothing had happened" VS "nothing was wrong" - same general idea, but given the context...again, the Overhaul's is more compelling to me here. same with them using "I felt like"

this part, too - hitting particularly hard rn 🥺

(for the past several months, I've been dealing with p bad depression, struggling to come to terms with/overcome deeply-ingrained past trauma + trust issues + fear of the future/uncertainty, so...this re-read couldn't have come at a better time)

also, Dark Horse's translation has "Even if you're in darkness now" - idk why that sticks out to me;;;;;

I like how the Overhaul uses "throw away" again - nice consistency with what Rem says to Vash as she's holding the knife back. and I REALLY love the Overhaul's translation of that last panel! aaaaa the nuance of "[the world]'s not just full of worthless people" 🥹

"looks like" VS "I must have"

and you've gotta wonder - did Knives hear any of Vash and Rem's conversation? or was he truly out cold up until this moment?

[daisyachain]

HXH vol 1-3 notes

Every line is snapped to a curve. Every shape is filled to the brim with whatever hatching or ink it’s meant to have. The tightest manga you’ll ever see. And then the lizard is so beautifully watercoloured that you can feel the scales

The hand-drawn backgrounds make it apparent how much of backgrounds in current manga are 3D modelled/photo edits. This is not a bad thing for modern manga. I like to see a beautiful quotidian setting that a poor overworked assistant did not die to produce. It’s also so so cute to have the simple cartoony bushes

Gon is (: a treat to have for a main character. He’s so interesting! A little boy who is not all there

First time around HXH I loved it and it stuck in my brain but only Kurapika, and I was still so hung up on Yorknew that I didn’t really register or understand the rest of it. Downsides to HXH basically being 2 totally separate arcs quilted together (they did say it had a JJBA influence…)

Poor Aunt Mito. More evidence that Gon is a little…

I had 100% forgotten Kite got introduced here

Leorio is 19????? This makes sense…

Different stories exist on different planes of reality and disbelief. HxH exists on the single top plane of disbelief. The tone and content are impossible to reconcile so you just have to let go of any kind of expectation and be free!

The Hunter Exam arc lasts longer than expected

How on earrrtth can they run that far. That is 2 marathons. And then summer camp starts (see aforementioned disbelief)

Body count is Mad High (see aforementioned disbelief). People just keep dying!

This may be my chance to separate Hisoka entirely from anime/Heaven’s Arena ver. and see why he’s my sister’s favourite

The ♦️unique speech bubbles ♣️ are certainly ♠️ a charm point ♥️

Imagining voices to go with the characters is a challenge. They are all so big-eyed and squeaky in my head. At the same time I remember being 12 and what the 12-year-olds in my class sounded like

My youthful Kurapika obsession hasn’t faded. Sorry mutuals. He’s well-spoken.

Culinary challenge minigame is a bit weak

Midnight game is v fun. Bonding time.

HxH is the most video game a thing can get without being a video game. The blobby shapes. The simple backgrounds. The vivid green of a Pokémon or BotW. The levelling up. I don’t know enough about games to be sure but I want to say that it consciously steals Pokémon’s look

The hunt is on!! Great tension in Gon’s pursuit. I was waiting with bated breath

‘197’ <- I did chuckle

Leorio is the failed main character who never actually gets an arc, but the role he plays is to bring everyone else together. He can’t do it himself. We have to help him together. He needs to stick around or else they’d all shake hands and never again see each other. He is a babysitter not much older than a baby himself

Gon and Kurapika’s bond is so sweet! Underrated axis of character relations. Kurapika always has an answer to Gon’s questions (even if it’s wrong) while Gon opens a whole new world of problem-solving for a vengeance-fixated teen. They care about each other very much, even if it’s just because Gon cares about everyone and even if Kurapika isn’t going to let it go beyond casual cooperation

Hiss-o-ka. Feel sorry for the guy who was just trying to get his license (see aforementioned disbelief)

I don’t know what roles Illumi and Hisoka play with respect to one another and at this point I’m not going to ask. Drinking buddies.

Killua time! Eat your heart out, everyone else

Leorio almost solved his puzzle in a remarkably clever way. Rip.

HxH has a world you should never think about for more than 5 seconds

Off to be final…

Another remarkable blast of tonal dissonance. Yay! Hanzo broke his arm for the greater good (?). The creepiness of the situation does heighten Gon’s wrongness so it works

Killua and Gon’s relationship is the bedrock of the story. I do not remember it being so explicitly stated or so early

‘There has to be something you want in the world that is strong enough that you will break away from us’ well.

Zoldyk arc! A classic. Silva is despicable. I feel like this one went a little better in the animation with the dark colouring and the saturated hues.

Killua breaking out of the dungeon is the scene in so many ways. He can leave, he just needs a reason

Gon HxH and Oz PH have some similarities and Gon HxH and Alice PH have some similarities

Alluka already exists. Illumi- Milluki - Killua - [REDACTED] - Kalluto

Most of what I am feeling during the read is sad for Killua

There’s a bit of a balance of power between narrator characters and main/protagonist/active characters. Narrators are aware of the consequences of the protagonist’s actions as well as where they fit into an overarching narrative, narrators can rationalize and contextualize the seemingly random events around them. Because Gon doesn’t understand any of this, he needs a narrator (Kurapika or Killua). Killua is doomed to be aware of what Gon is doing to him and what is happening to Gon. He can’t tell him, he can’t escape it, he doesn’t want to, his role is to Observe and Know the way his entire self is being warped, and he legally can’t do anything about it because he is not the protagonist

Off to Heaven’s Arena…

[kurisus]

Noragami reread: Volume 21 & 22 thoughts

The closer we get to the final chapter drop, the bigger my feeling of dread grows, and the more I have to say in terms of thoughts. So, let's talk about this helping of pain.

I honestly can't figure out the deal with Fujisaki's sister and her kids. So, like, she puts the kids in her car and drives all the way to Tokyo to visit (? take care of??? they didn't really say why she was there) her missing brother, but she can't find him. Because he is missing. She leaves these young kids in the car and goes to look for him, but the kids get bored and wander off. They run into their uncle, who's chilling in a park nearby, and he's like "hey kiddos I have a really fun game for you. Play a prank on this kid that's gonna come by. Pretend you're lost [except they really are lost] and lure him into this tunnel it'll be funny." How did he know Yukine would be there either? Because Yukine was following him? Then the mother finds her kids and loads them back in the car...I guess to go back to the countryside...and doesn't believe her kids saying they met her brother. Like, the whole thing doesn't make sense. I guess Adachitoka just wanted to bring back the sister and kids, but the setup is so weird. If anyone else has an answer, please let me know, because this stumps me.

How I would rearrange this scene is that the sister is there to take care of Fujisaki and brought her kids, but while their mother is out shopping or whatever he takes the kids out without telling her, notices Yukine tailing him, and gets them to prank him. The mother finds them in the end and scolds her brother for taking off while he's sick. Since he's not really sick, she decides to go home the next day.

Moving on, Yukine's struggles really resonate. Poor kid thinks he has a loving family waiting for him, and doesn't understand why Yato refuses to tell him anything. Nora tries to tell him off, but he dismisses her too. So when he finds Yato with Kazuma, he realizes Yato was serious about cutting his lifeline. After all Yukine did to protect him in the previous arc, as well as Kazuma being there, this feels like a personal insult. Combined with his existing insecurities about being good enough, his PTSD from the box, and the agony of his past just out of reach, he just kind of...explodes. Just like how I want to explode reading this!

On a lighter note, obsessed with how angles and speech bubbles are used to disguise Kazuma's clothes while he argues with Yato, and then Yato points out those were the clothes he'd just changed out of. Hysterical. This goes well with the scene where Yato is wearing Hiyori's old uniform, but you don't see it till Yukine calls him out.

Okay, so, the thing with Hiyori. After Kazuma told her to fuck off, she tried to convince herself to stay home, but this resolution ends when she spots trash dad flying around and smiling. Thanks to this encounter, her cord is damaged, leading to it being broken later and enabling her to become a shinki. Upon the reread, I can see why it was important for her to be injured here--so that she doesn't run after Yato--but I'm still grumpy about the cord thing...and then she just runs after him the following volume anyway. Maybe if she was just injured, and the cord was intact...not sure. Like I said, grumpy.

Rereading volume 21 also made me realize another minor hangup I have with the ending is how much time we devote to Yato and Kazuma training together, and later fighting together, only for Kazuma to ultimately not to be the one to bring Father down. He weakened him, sure, but this partnership didn't amount to much outside of additional angst. I may adjust this feeling depending on how the remaining volumes go, but like I've said I don't like the Hiyori shinki thing so maybe Kazuma should've been the one to kill him. idk. He wronged Hiyori more, but [thrashes]

Nora saying to Yukine "your god is not your dad" pains me because he follows this by saying "if I was his actual kid, he wouldn't have left me" and then learning his parents DID abandon him--combined with projecting Yato as his father figure, this leads to him turning on Yato. His father is the one who leaves him, no matter who it is, no matter the reason.

There is also the fact that because of Nora (and Father telling her to), Yukine knows that gods know their pasts. Yato won't tell him anything--and hey, there's someone right here who's promising to do just that! Surrendering your name is fine, because the one who gave it to you betrayed you. The writing around this is so layered and complex and also I am deeply pained.

Switching gears to the Hiyori chapter. The conversation between her and her grandma takes on an interesting new context in light of recent events, and I wanna talk about it. The grandma is ready to die, but Hiyori doesn't want her to, because she'll never see her family again. Her grandma says that's a good point, but she'd rather be with the one she loves most, and urges Hiyori to do the same, before it's too late. But what's interesting is...Hiyori doesn't follow her advice. She does go off after Yato, because she knows her presence is needed to resolve things between him and Yukine, but what's crucial here is that at the funeral, seeing her crying mother reminds her that no matter what she has to come back home. So she's running off in a reckless move, but it's not because she has a death wish. She ALWAYS intended to come back, after helping with something very important. Plus, it was her grandma's time. Hiyori is young.

Overall, chapter 85 really highlights the foil between Hiyori and Nora. Here we have a "fake little girl" who was never given the chance to be a real human, and here is a real human girl who has a loving family, yet isn't doing things that most human girls do. The scary, scaly water creature is jealous of the ailing human girl, who is so unwell she can barely walk. Crying forever

Nora tells Hiyori that Yukine must have been killed before he was put in the fridge, because she has a more charitable view of his end, but Hiyori knows the truth--that he was buried alive. She puts it into words as we gaze at the empty coffin, and I just...god. god. Top 10 most gutting moments of Noragami.

In general reading about Yukine's past makes me want to die. The way his hope gets gradually crushed, all thanks to trash dad.

Discord reactions:

[In the last screenshot, the speech bubbles on the second panel read "So he leaves me masterless, or he throws me out. What's the difference?"]

[usuallydyinginside]

Apologies for long addition ahead, but I wanted to make sure to give @leikeliscomet the attention they deserve for this incredibly important post before I gave any thoughts.

I've been thinking about this episode off and on all weekend, and haven't been able to pinpoint quite why it sits strangely with me until I read this. My first instinct was to like the episode, and in some ways, I still really do! I think it brought back some classic Who feels in a fun way, I love a good "twist," and I'm a sucker for episodes that mix silly and serious subjects.

All that being said, when we got to the "twist" I was a lot less sure. As one of the whitest whites ever to white, I could tell immediately that it was a twist written by a white person for other white people. It felt like it was meant to be a gotcha for other white people and honestly, one that is probably needed and helpful to some people.

However, it felt like a huge disservice to take an early episode of the first Black Doctor, as well as the first to address racism, and to make it entirely about a lesson to white people from other white people.

Let's be clear - the incredible Ncuti did an INCREDIBLE job and that has to be some of the best acting of Doctor Who. Every time I think he can't impress me more as The Doctor, I am proven wrong.

That being said, there was something so, so deeply uncomfortable to me about the way they went about this.

From a character perspective, I totally see how a white writer looked at The Doctor and went "this is how he'd react because he's The Doctor." The Doctor saves people, even people who don't deserve it. That's his big thing.

Except.

EXCEPT.

He doesn't always.

Like, yes, he almost always offers the bad guy at least one chance to not die, but he doesn't do it in a way that is demeaning. He has faced any number of alien races bent on some form of sci-fi "racial supremacy" and he always calls them out on it. When he's faced racist humans in the past (against sci-fi alien race or human understanding of race), he has also made a point of calling out they were wrong. As the OP notes, he literally punched someone as 12.

But what happens here? He doesn't just coldly offer mercy like he might have in other episodes. He doesn't tell them they're shit but say he'll save them anyway.

No, he literally BEGS THEM to let him save them.

For those who need a refresher, the lines are literally, "I don't care what you think, and you can say whatever you want. You can think absolutely anything. I will do anything if you just allow me to save you."

"But I can save your lives."

The acting of this speech is so, so good that it's almost enough to distract from the words.

Almost.

Though they did an okay job weaving the microagressions and racism hints throughout in a way that will feel like a surprise to (*cough* white *cough*) fans, something about it still felt like the racism was being used as a sorta cheap twist to me. Then I came across this article revealing that this episode was initially pitched 15 years ago for a white doctor and white companion and it all made more sense. Because it wasn't about racism initially. I honestly think this sort of "twist" could have been accomplished with something like classism just as easily without cheapening such an important topic.

Basically, I think OP said it best when it comes down to the fact that there need to be Black writers on Doctor Who in general, but especially when it comes to writing a Doctor played by a Black man. I looked it up because I was curious, and the first Black screenwriter for Doctor Who was Malorie Blackman in 2018.

2 0 1 8

Honestly, it makes a lot of sense when you look at how Black characters have been written and treated on the show up until now.

I looked up this season's writers and directors, and there are no Black writers or directors among them. I don't even have words for the sort of mistake that is.

TLDR: Dot & Bubble was an episode written by white people for white people, and OP is 1000% correct that 1) you should not and cannot tell Black people (or anyone) how to respond to this episode and 2) DOCTOR WHO NEEDS BLACK WRITERS.

(Reposting from twitter)

My POV as a Black fan that thinks Dot and Bubble's racism commentary is trash

Rewatched Dot and Bubble and I'm gonna break down from my POV as a Black fan why this episode didn't work for me & why it's an awful racism commentary. Long arse post incoming:

The whole "You should've noticed the cast was all white except for fifteen ha your bias is showing" doesn't work for a show that's been predominantly white for 60+ years. D&B casting has been the default for most of the show so its not abnormal enough to be a racial litmus test. An example is the Matt Smith era The only reoccurring character of colour in s5 (2+ appearances) is Liz 10. Artie n Angie in s7. 0 in s6. RTD's own era isn't fully safe either. For many eps Martha or Mickey are the *only* Black characters. Most POC are side characters or extras.

White fans should be aware of the predominantly white casting of the show but this late in the game feels cheap. Most of the show has gone through 100% white episodes including fan faves and it was never an issue back then bc it was beneficial. This is so hollow. Representing racists as cartoon caricatures SEVERLY underestimates the danger of white supremacy irl. White supremacy is system designed and constructed and rebranded over centuries. It is not accidental. People aren't racist bc they don't know they're racist because they *do* They know the system that oppresses POC, Black people especially, benefits them socially and financially and that is why they participate. Its not stupidity it's intention. That should've been the Finetime core not Lindy goofing around bc the arrows are gone or some shit.

Human Nature showed us racist young people that exercised this power bc they knew this. They may be children but they are still dangerous bc of their views. Martha knew this. The silly tech obsessed gen z angle erases this danger and that of actual gen z white supremacy

Instead of the camp goofy tone we could've gotten a serious focused episode. The slugs and millenial/gen z social media silly distracts from what could've been the main theme of colonisation instead of saving it for 10 mins of exposition at the end & scattering microaggressions. Saving Fifteen's racism scene for a goofy episode was a horrid idea. Spending 30 mins on representing racism as silliness then giving a dramatic dangerous score is the definition of tonal whiplash. Representing his oppressor as a blonde bimbo again does not take this seriously. Fifteen went to 1960s BRITAIN & got through it unscathed. Finetime is a fictional futuristic land but the racism of 1960s Britain was real. If anytime was right it could've been Devil's Chord. Distancing yourself from a panto villain is easy but addressing your history is hard.

The scene itself is incredibly performed so I'll give Ncuti his flowers but what he used this skill for could've been so much more. Having his FIRST SCENE begging to save a racist is disgusting. It isn't Black people's responsibility to show compassion to people that want us dead. Yes the Doctor helps the baddies bc they care. But they're aren't ignorant to prejudice. The liberal anti racism of who is so jarring and why I still think Thin Ice is performative. When white people are angry at injustice it's radical. When it's Black people we're aggressive.

Respectability politics is a tool of white supremacy. That if one pleads and is nice enough they can earn liberation. What would white fans think of Fifteen if he DIDN'T beg Lindy? If your allyship with Black people depends on showing kindness to racists you are NOT an ally.

Next up is Ricky. It was established ALL Finetime citizens have white supremacist views yet Ricky September stans refuse to see him in any negative light. Just like Joan Redfern white dw fans refuse to see racism if a character is likeable. If nice guy Ricky's a racist, then anyone no matter the niceness can be racist too and that's a pill white fans aren't ready to swallow. If racism is systemic and not about individual character, then what's keeping them safe? What happens when YOU are under the microscope.

THIS is why we NEED Black writers in Doctor Who. The nuances, depth and complexity of the Black experience can only be told at it's best by Black creatives and not guessed, assumed or spoken over by white fans and white writers. It's okay to put ego aside and say you don't get it.

"Im white but I loved the Doctor's reaction" "I'm white and i thought the racism commentary was great" "I'm white but i-" Yet again, we have to sit through another round of white and non Black fans of colour dictating Black representation for us. I'm so fucking tired man. AGAIN IM YELLING FROM MY HILLTOP TO WATCH SHOWS BY BLACK WRITERS. Almost EVERY single theme in Dot and Bubble and frankly most of the show has been done WAY better in other media. RTD is not the authority on Black stories. We are. Always have been and always will.

Tl;dr Dot and Bubble is an unserious and tacky racism commentary. It's core message is drowned by more RTD Who camp. Don't tell me this episode was good at representating my own experience. It wasn't. S15 having Black writers isn't a need it's a must. Goodbye.

[tryingahandinholdingapen]

one thing I'm currently finding v frustrating is that I'd like to know more about canon dc but I am just....not good at reading comics.

I often somehow manage to read speech/action bubbles in the wrong order or even entire panels sometimes and I'm completely terrible at recognising people/characters so if I read one comic, and then read another with a different artists/colourist/etc I will NOT recognise the characters and will have to painstakingly try to guess via context clues which may well take me like 20 pages. And then I'd have to reread the whole thing whilst trying to remember what character from the second comic matches with the same character in the first one

My ability to comprehend different continuities and like, what belongs to what continuity, is fuck awful and tbh I'm continously confused by how the hell you distinguish between various comics series etc within dc??

For some reason I also really struggle with comics in that like...I don't know, for some reason my attention span and memory are both far worse with reading comics than reading a book ot watching TV. I have no idea what's up with that? But I just...can't read much of a comic before my attention span says "okay nah we're done now" and then my ability to remember what had happened in that comic so far when I come back to continue reading later is so fucking spotty

All that's without considering the fact that like. I don't particularly have money or storage space for physical copies of comics (and any sort of online version of any comic ever is even HARDER on my ability to understand and remember shit, again, idk why) and I also frankly have little idea how I'd get access to comics anyway?? Like. I rarely see them to buy and the library has some comics but I don't think many if any of those are dc and I can't remember seeing any I recognised or liked the look of...

I'd really like to get more into dc canon because sometimes I'll see something really interesting in a fic or a post from someone I follow and go "!!! that sounds so awesome how did they come up with that!" only to find out it's actually canon and thus immediately want to consume the relevant source material. But I just? Don't know how to? I don't get on with comics :(( and idk how else to get around that? Like I know theres movies and animated series or whatever but as far as I know those have different canon material/continuity/?? than some of the comics (which are also different to each other I think) so that's not really the same thing

[rosetyler42]

hi. the whole mcr post thing from yesterday has crossed my dash today. I don't know you at all, but I would like to say, on behalf of the mcr fandom. they are assholes. you did literally nothing wrong. even if you had known it was an mcr post this is fucking tumblr - stealing other fandom's posts is a time-honored tradition. mcr is all about being yourself, no matter how unpalatable that may be to someone else. you hurt 0 individuals in the making of that post, so you have nothing to be sorry for. be yourself. be unpalatable. be ungovernable. <3 hope you have a great day and keep posting vampires.

That's part of what's honestly so weird about all this. Like, I get them having high emotions about this, but it's still kind of funny that they're freaking out about a post being derailed on the same site that spawned such classics as Color Theory, KUNG POW PENIS, having a Supernatural gif for everything, the Harry Potter houses Toasting knife post, speech bubble post gags, and more. And then there's the whole "cringe" fandom angle. (Not that I think HT is cringe myself, but I know many do.) Which again...this is Tumblr. Even if Cringe culture weren't dead, this is the Cringe Fandom website. I mean, I remember being on here around the time of Superwholock back when I was in my Doctor Who phase. Very few of us are cool on here. I post largely for myself and things I find funny, relatable, fun, cute, whatever. As well as showing friends and other people in the fandom(s.) I've met, such as @broppyhater16 the one you probably saw in the post commenting on my meme.

Thank you, though, my fren. Your understanding and support mean alot. I don't really go here, but the ones who have reached out to me have been great, and I wish you all the best. We also agree on many things: the important thing is being yourself and doing what you like, no matter what the rest of the world says. Don't worry, I'll keep on keeping on when it comes to my interests, be it HT, Doctor Who, Laika, BATIM, KP amd anything else regardless of those that call it cringe. And I wish you the same confidence. :)

PS: I might suggest you send some love to Broppyhater16 too. I'm not sure how they're taking this, but I mostly got into this fight because I felt it was wrong for them to have gotten yelled at (It was mostly "THIS ISN'T ABOUT A CHILDREN'S FILM, IT'S ABOUT MY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ON MCR") Not anything particularly rude/threatening, but they were still yelling at them for something they didn't do.

[common-grackle]

hi!! snoopy infodump ahead :D disclaimer i am just me and did not grow up on peanuts either :( also my dates are either super right or astronomically wrong. sorry

so. 50s snoopy is a small guy. he does dog things. he walks around on his 4 lil dog legs and boops people with his cold nose (source: aug 01 1954 peanuts comic strip)!! notice in the strip he has speech bubbles. that is a weird quirk from earlier strips :D he thinks w thought bubbles in later strips (maybe 1956 ish onwards!)

then there was a Bright Idea aka snoopy character development. you know how snoopy’s known for being the WW1 Flying Ace or like. world famous author who has a typewriter. or whatever. this is hypothetically all in his imagination BUT SHH we don’t talk about that. well this started around 1960. ish. around that era. and he developed a vivid inner world sort of thing where he, i guess, indulged in behaviour that is not dog. he and lucy bully each other i guess (/hj

so snoopy is a bastard (affectionate) now :D

SNOOPY !!!! HE IS THE BEST EVER THANK YOU FOR THIS INFORMATION

the spectrum of littol guy to bastard (affectionate) .. i love you snoopy

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Nothing happens for a while. No scientists coming in to give a speech to explain why he’s here, no noises outside the disgusting sound of the green liquid bubbling and circulating in the tank, no movement except the floating infant that also appears unconscious.

Tim tries the bonds of course but without any of his equipment or anything sharp, the straps didn’t budge. The tubing from his own arm and the other boy’s was concerning. They seemed to converge into a machine that then connected to the small child.

It must have been hours before he noticed the change in breathing from his neighbor.

Unsurprisingly it was blue eyes that blinked open and immediately focused on the baby, checking over the tiny form obsessively. It reminded Tim of Bruce when one of them is injured. The assessing gaze of a parent.

The boy sighs when he sees what Tim assumes to be no changes. Then those blue eyes find him, widening in surprise. They two stare at each other for a moment before the boy checks the rest of empty room for anyone else. Tim already knew they were alone.

He turns back to Tim, licks his lips in thought.

“You’re awake,” the shaky voice says. It’s quiet but the echo in the room makes sure he hears.

“How long have I been asleep?” Is his first question.

“Since they brought you in.”

“‘They’? Who’s they? When did they bring me in?”

The boy takes a deep breath at the questions.

“I’m Danny,” he says instead. “What’s your name?”

Right. This is probably a lot. How long has this guy been here? Alone?

“Tim. I’m Tim.”

Danny smiles. It’s small and cracked, but still a smile.

“Hi, Tim.” Danny takes another deep breath and focuses back on the baby. “I haven’t decided on a name for him yet. Do you… do you wanna help pick? He’s- he’s ours. I know that sounds weird but he’s made from both of us. No BS.”

Danny tries to grin but it falls flat. Tim’s attention is back on the baby. Not that he didn’t come to that conclusion when he first became aware of the situation but he had hoped to be wrong.

“How long have I been here? Danny?”

“Well… there isn’t a clock in here but I think it’s been a few days. Week, maybe two.”

Tim flicks his eyes back to Danny.

“He’s at least a few months old. Maybe a year.”

“Five. He’s five months old.” Danny turns to stare at the ceiling. “He was created a bit unstable. My fault really. They thought the ectoplasm would help but it’s just stabilized him. They brought you in for fresh sample. Transfusions or something. He’s been doing better already. They think he’ll be good as new within the next week or two.”

Danny smiles like this is ecstatic news. Tim files away the different name for the Lazarus waters. And that for whatever reason, Danny thinks the instability of their child is his fault.

“Have you been here the whole time?” He asks cautiously.

Tim is now very aware of the paleness to the boy’s skin. How starved he looks, to the point he can see the bones in his hand from here. The dark bags under Danny’s eyes.

Danny licks his cracked lips again.

“Longer,” he admits with a shrug. He tries to appear casual but the presentation gave the opposite result. He turns back to Tim again. “What’s the date? When you were- I mean, the last time you remember.”

The question is asked with such fragility Tim is afraid to answer for a minute.

He tells him. He was taken after a boring board meeting, coming out of Wayne Enterprises and then a prick to his arm before darkness. Tim’s memory is almost always reliable.

Danny is quiet for a long time after that.

Too long for Tim to keep silent.

“So what names have you thought of? Personally, I was thinking Haden or maybe Tyler.”

Danny’s glazed eyes focus again and the corner of his lips lift as they start going back and forth about baby names.

They’ll discuss more information later. Tim already has about three escape plans working in his head, they just need to make sure their child is stable and healthy before making a move. He can wait. Patience is one of his strengths.

Dp x DC crossover

Tim wakes up in an unknown laboratory strapped down to a table next to an unconscious teen who looks like a batfam adoptee, also strapped to a table.

In between the tables is a tube containing a Lazarus green liquid and a infant.