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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@jamborina
My favorite genre of self-portrait is cartoonists being bothered by their characters while trying to draw
Bill Watterson – Calvin and Hobbes (1986)
Hergé – Tintin (1947, Tintin Magazine)
Jeff Smith – Bone (1993, Bone Holiday Special)
Walt Kelly – Pogo (1950, Maclean's Magazine)
And a bonus:
Berkeley Breathed – Bloom County
for the reverse, take this image of Tove Jansson about to murder the moomin characters
One of the best parts of reading Batman and The Signal was the banter between Duke and Jason based on their districts in Gotham. And I think it would be hilarious if we saw more of that.
Duke: Why are you slowing down? It’s straight on.
Jason: I’m trying to figure out if this is the turn or if these co-ordinates are off.
Duke: It’s literally down there. Look, big sign. Can your Crime Alley ass not read?
Jason: At least we can read the street signs.
Duke: You don’t have street signs. You have arrows spray‑painted on trash cans.
Jason: Better than the Narrows. You get lost and you fucking pray Killer Croc jumps up from the sewers and fucking eats you just so you don't have to spend another second on those streets.
Duke: At least we have streets. Crime Alley is just a string potholes holding hands and one burning trashcan.
Bruce, over comms: Signal, Red Hood, table your conversation or you can get your asses back to the Cave.
Steph, over comms: Get a load of this Crest Hill bitch.
Jason: Stand your HOA ass stand down, Spoiler. Widow Creek isn't that great.
Steph: At least we have running water and flushing toilet, Park Row bitch. And before you even start Drake, your Bristol ass is on thin ice.
Tim, not even working that night: The fuck did I do??
cruelty is so easy. youre not special for choosing it
"The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist; a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain."
-Ursula K. LeGuin, The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas
"Evil is boring. Right? I kinda believe in the banality and mundaneness of evil. Evil is just selfish impulses, which at the end of the day are really easy to understand. It’s easy to understand why people do bad things. It’s like “yeah, ok, you’re selfish and scared and cruel, I get it”. Being good is complex and beautiful and hard." - Brennan Lee Mulligan
"How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerors have been: how gloriously different are the saints." --C.S. Lewis
whether they're Good Media™ or whatever aside, I think mainstream liveplay ttrpg shows have been a fucking disaster for the hobby. it's hard to imagine anything that could have fucked the expectations:results differential for people more than having celebrities do college improv with dice (and an entire media production team behind them) and telling a generation of new players that's what tabletop gaming is like
liveplay ttrpg shows are not 'professional gaming', that's the whole problem I'm talking about. they're entertainment products which make format, content and form choices that would be nonsensical or obstructive at an ordinary table. it's not just "oh if only 'hobbyist' gaming groups (🤮) could pay for all that kit and lighting and professional writers and voice actors".
liveplay production involves story meetings aimed at making the narrative maximally entertaining to a watching audience (not the players, who are also professionals who are there to entertain that audience!). It involves editing (trimming out downtime, uninteresting mistakes, technical issues, moments where the vibe is wrong or there's friction in the room). it involves a room full of production crew watching every move the GM and players make, sensitive to wastage of their time and effort if things don't go to plan. and not for nothing, it involves an entire team of people who need to keep game publishers happy by playing and displaying their products correctly and certainly never criticising them or openly adapting around their shortcomings for the sake of the group's enjoyment.
I've played at tables where we've been lucky enough to have fun props and miniatures and printed maps and sound systems and even a bit of lighting, and where everyone in the group was a seasoned player with writing and performance backgrounds, and the experience was still full of normal natural constructive frictions that are largely if not completely absent from entertainment liveplay shows. player disagreement is normal. stopping mid flow to argue about a rule and look it up and help each other with system technicalities is normal. the music just not working today is normal. the party choosing a direction the GM didn't prepare for and having to adjust their in-character choices a little and tolerate some hastily cobbled together fluff to meet them halfway is so normal it's a running joke. someone finding a scene a little too much and asking for a break or redirection is normal. someone saying something a little ill judged in the moment and having to walk it back with as much grace as possible is normal. storylines not going to plan and petering out without major dramatic resolution, or npcs being ignored and cast off with a shrug is normal. all this shit and more is normal because a normal table is structured around the organic decision-making of a bunch of players who are primarily in it for their own fun and sense of transport, not for an invisible imaginary fandom slash consumer market. which are all the things that make ttrpg play inherently a pretty bad vehicle for storytelling, incidentally!
someone else in the tags expressed their frustration at these shows 'professionalising' the hobby, and while I do recognise and sympathise with the feeling that these shows normalise a level of polish and commercial buy-in that's destructive to the diy culture of tabletop gaming, I still have to push back on the idea that these shows are representative of 'professionalised gaming'. they're not. they're sports anime.
To give a non-D&D example, in Remember the Titans, the big climactic match was a very close call where the Titans barely eeked out a win.
The actual players and people who were there for the actual match were very verbal and tried to sue for defamation when the movie came out, because the real Titans fucking stomped the other team, 67-0 or some shit.
But the makers of the film felt like the story of one of the first non-segregated american football teams was not dramatic enough if they just flat out won a match after a teammate got hospitalized. So they rewrote it, negating a rather major historic accomplishment from the public memory in the process.
Which is all I see whenever a player rolls a die the camera never pans to while screaming "NAT 20" while the rest of the cast cheers. Just more writing rooms deciding what would be cool and interesting rather than just letting random things happen, even if random things happening is literally the point of the fucking dice.
A master to his action-hero trainee says, "Your movements are sloppy. You lack awareness of your body when you fight. Your hands move and yet you do not hold them in your mind's eye. Come. We will remedy this."
And then the master paints his trainee's fingernails and orders the trainee to complete a series of complicated tasks without smudging the nail polish.
Trainee grumbles that this is stupid when the first set of tasks is just cleaning the dojo. Within two minutes he reaches for the dustpan and knocks the edge of his pinky nail against it in a way he's never noticed before. He's staring at the baby blue smudge and suddenly he understands things differently.
There's a montage of days passing as he fetches water, chops wood, hoes crops, washes clothes. His nails are a different color during each cut. He's sprinting up the mountain with a fresh wet pedicure and the master is nodding in approval. The master's nails are flawless tech art.
He's reached his final assessment and it's a sparing match against his master. The air smells of acetone. His and the master's nails are all freshly painted. He must land a blow on the master with his mani and pedi fully intact.
Suns and moons pass. Streak in the ring finger. Smudge on the pinky. A full-handed block at the cost of three nails of paint. A hit on his master, and he hoots in delight until the master points out the unguarded toe whose polish is now streaked across the master's robe.
Days pass in frustration and exhaustion. By day 40, he has every digit of his acutely in his mind's eye. He senses the master's attack, ducks, dodges, all fingers all toes all himself, aware, and he strikes with his wooden sword.
It connects with the master. The master pauses. The trainee raises his left hand into view--5 digits of flawless sunflower yellow. His left foot. His right foot. And finally his right hand, raised in triumph.
The master smiles. "You have passed. I have just one more technique to teach you."
The technique is how to draw little flowers into the nail art. So really this one is optional.
These posts contain 146 horses (49.1% of the post)
🍎 @phantomrose96
A master to his action-hero trainee says, "Your movements are sloppy. You lack awareness of your body when you fight. Your hands move and yet you do not hold them in your mind's eye. Come. We will remedy this."
And then the master paints his trainee's fingernails and orders the trainee to complete a series of complicated tasks without smudging the nail polish.
🍎 @phantomrose96
Trainee grumbles that this is stupid when the first set of tasks is just cleaning the dojo. Within two minutes he reaches for the dustpan and knocks the edge of his pinky nail against it in a way he's never noticed before. He's staring at the baby blue smudge and suddenly he understands things differently.
🍎 @phantomrose96
There's a montage of days passing as he fetches water, chops wood, hoes crops, washes clothes. His nails are a different color during each cut. He's sprinting up the mountain with a fresh wet pedicure and the master is nodding in approval. The master's nails are flawless tech art.
🍎 @phantomrose96
He's reached his final assessment and it's a sparing match against his master. The air smells of acetone. His and the master's nails are all freshly painted. He must land a blow on the master with his mani and pedi fully intact.
Suns and moons pass. Streak in the ring finger. Smudge on the pinky. A full-handed block at the cost of three nails of paint. A hit on his master, and he hoots in delight until the master points out the unguarded toe whose polish is now streaked across the master's robe.
Days pass in frustration and exhaustion. By day 40, he has every digit of his acutely in his mind's eye. He senses the master's attack, ducks, dodges, all fingers all toes all himself, aware, and he strikes with his wooden sword.
It connects with the master. The master pauses. The trainee raises his left hand into view--5 digits of flawless sunflower yellow. His left foot. His right foot. And finally his right hand, raised in triumph.
The master smiles. "You have passed. I have just one more technique to teach you."
The technique is how to draw little flowers into the nail art. So really this one is optional.
Posts are selected by humans, processed automatically and queued to post. Click the link for more information about each horse. You can send a link or text to be counted to my ask box.
oh my god........................ the hornses.......... 🐴
I think that if you had enough daughters AND played your cards right you could spring Mambo Number Five out at the EXACT right gathering and shatter your entire family's trust forever
The secret is to name them out of order with the lyrics so by the time anyone catches on it's too late
For me personally the ideal gathering would be my funeral
Here's how Jason and CK (Superboy Prime) can plausibly meet:
Someone is threatening the cape community. Maybe a virus has been developed, maybe civilian identities are being leaked one by one, maybe it's aliens again. Regardless of the specifics, the most important thing here is is that it can in no way be Red Hood, not his MO, no connection to him whatsoever, so, obviously, the bats (Bruce, Dick, Tim and Damian in particular) go "It's gotta be Red Hood!" The other heroes believe them unquestioningly and join their hunt on Red Hood. Since this is not Jason's first rodeo, he evades them until the actual culprit is found. Maybe one of the capes kills him accidentally, but because Jason pops back up, perfectly intact, the bats think he faked his death and get pissed at him for putting Bruce through this again.
Jason does not get a single apology.
Fed up with this shit, Jason has one of his soliloquies where he tentatively feels he's trapped in a narrative due to the sheer absurdity he has to deal with without actually coming to the conclusion that he's a fictional character. Instead, he finally decides to figure out what it is that keeps bringing him back to life so that he can stop it.
And here's where the All Blades come in! Jason emulates his trial where he was in the stream of past, present and future by submerging himself under water in his bathtub in the hopes of catching a glimpse of what actually happened. The reason why he hasn't done this before is that it's extremely dangerous. His soul might shatter, but at this point, he's willing to take the risk because he's losing bits of himself slowly as is in this limbo.
He gets a vision of Superboy Prime punching reality, which is an extremely confusing picture without the context readers have, so while Jason is trying to make sense of what he's looking at, SP in his vision suddenly freezes and looks RIGHT BACK AT JASON. His facial expression shifts from that of a cornered animal to a confused one, like he's just woken up, but it's clear he sees Jason too. This startles Jason so much, he gets kicked out of the vision and comes back up for air. Overwhelmed, he gets out of the bathtub, gets dressed and goes to the kitchen to get a cup of tea. Or a bottle of whiskey. He hasn't quite made up his mind yet.
And who's floating outside the huge ass window of Jason's living room but Superboy Prime himself! How long has he been there? Who's to know? Jason can't hear him through the glass, but he can read his lips: "I just came to talk." Ok, sure, at this point, why not? He just saw this guy alter reality with his fist, but whatever. On the other hand, SP could just break through reinforced glass, and Jason doesn't want to have to install new huge ass windows on whatever floor he's on, so he lets him in.
SP is freaked out that Jason is poking into his resurrection. He's never done this before, why now? Dear Reader, are we addressing the narrative implications in this one?
Unphased by SP's reluctance to explain what he saw in the vision, Jason decides "If you're the one who brought me back, you probably have what it takes to kill me off for good. Let's try!" So SP, horrified, has no choice but to explain that they're in a comic book universe as gently as he can muster. He gets C+ for effort, but again Jason doesn't even blink. "Was I just not a lucrative character, or something?"
SP has gotten used to his fourth wall breaks being dismissed as him being crazy, but now someone is listening to him and actually considering what he has to say, so he lays it all out:
"There was a poll on killing or saving you. It was rigged."
"So, the writers just don't like me?"
"Some of them do."
"I take it, most don't. Why would I wish for death if I was loved?"
"Readers love you!"
"Must be painful for them to read about me all things considered."
"It is. But no matter how many times writers try to make you unlikeable, you still come out sympathetic. Heroic. That's what keeps us reading your issues."
"Is that why Bruce is so different? There was a reason I loved him. Before."
"I'm sorry."
"You won't kill me, will you."
"I've just had my redemption arc. I don't want to be the villain again."
"I'd say it would stay just between you and me, but apparently we always have an audience."
"Nothing stays a secret in a story. Chekhov’s gun and all."
"Pfft, I've got plenty of secrets. No one has connected the dots that I'm functionally immortal - it's not like I go out of my way to hide the scar on my throat. They don't care."
"It's because you're intentionally isolated from other heroes. And the repercussions to my character aside, I don't want to kill you."
"Who are you to decide whether I get to stay dead or not?"
"I'm a fan, Jason. I'm sorry."
you know that thing where younger siblings get away with things older siblings never would've at the same age?
that poll going around of the guy who thought "people only eat tofu as a bit because they're deranged vegans" or whatever really crystalizes something that i have never been able to precisely say - which is "a nonzero fraction of people who start picky-eater discourse just happen to precisely hate those foods which are not from north america and refuse to introspect on this whatsoever"
In contrast some people say "there aren't any picky eaters in Asia 🙄" but this is laughably untrue. I have a cousin in India who refused until his 20s to eat anything in a sauce. as you can imagine in India this was difficult. he basically had to pick things out of curry and wipe them dry
what if we all explode
This very production of Orpheus & Eurydice is now available to stream, free, for the month of June.
if you vote me for president i vow to make everything the ocean again. no more land only ocean. this will solve all of our problems and replace them with new, far more interesting problems
so when i was a teenager i did some work for a house painter one summer. easy shit like spackling and scraping while the dude was off on other jobs, it was just a way to get some under-the-table cash for a few weeks one summer. i remember very little about this guy except that he was a) obviously on steroids, and b) intensely homophobic.
this was in Colorado in the early '90s, this was "the hate state" era, so everybody was intensely homophobic. there were nice normal families putting homophobic bumper stickers about gay sex on their minivans. but even in that environment this guy stood out, because he wanted to tell everybody about his... brother-in-law? i think? a gay man in his family who he refused to call by his name. let's say that name was Joe. and he would only call that man Auntie Joe. he would tell stories about Auntie Joe just so he could call him that. he had told his kids to call the man that. he thought this was both the sickest burn and the funniest joke imaginable. Auntie Joe! get it! he repeated it every chance he got, with the expected limp wrist gesture and lisp and everything.
anyway i think about that guy every time i see somebody in fandom decide that a slender, fine-featured, pretty, potentially queer man is definitely wants to be submissive and penetrated and coddled and have lots of babies, but earnestly claim that's not homophobic or misogynist, no, it's not at all the same thing as demanding gay couples tell you who's the man and who's the woman, it's totally different, it's subversive, you swear.
i'm not the fandom police, you can do whatever the fuck you want, but maybe sometimes take a moment to look at your assumptions about romantic couples and think about why you so very desperately and insistently want to recreate the early '90s american homophobia and misogyny of people like mr 'roid rage just to reinforce rigid gender roles inside your imagination.
real exchange i overheard between two of my bosses. ????
why is this getting notes again everyone STOP talking about white collar & rich guy shit i am a BLUE COLLAR DYKE!!!! THIS IS A JANITORIAL COMPANY!!!! i will NOT let you make this about white collar businessmen the poors are funny too ok
Random thing for people to consider is that since Laika is the saint of one way trips should Felicette be known as the saint of safe landings since she did make it back to the ground safely
tu LANCES félicette ? tu lances son corps comme la fusée ? oh ! oh ! prison pour les scientifiques ! prison pour les scientifiques pendant Un Mille Ans !
You can understand the French perfectly fine with only context but the English translation I got still had me floored
ancient sumerian little girl kicking her legs up in her bedroom imprinting images of gilgamesh and enkidu kissing on her cuneiform clay tablet and then taking it to her mom to bake and preserve it
OH OKAY......
accidental wife acquisition
