#commentary to follow...

[itsbasil]

this literally never stops being funny like dog they made starship troopers with the Baby's First Satire cranked up to 11 and these people are still fucking dumbfounded that the creators don't share their politics

[senipsenipsenip]

Eventually, the scrapbook ended. The sun had fallen beneath the horizon hours ago, and some nagging part of Stan's brain was telling him kids shouldn't be up this late. Unless they're breaking into a mini golf course. He jerked his head back, furrowing his brow. That was...oddly specific.

"Grunkle Stan?" a little voice - Mabel - questioned. He looked down at his knee to see where his great-niece was sitting, eyeing him with no small degree of concern. "Are you okay?"

He ruffled her hair. "'Course, Pumpkin. Just trying to shake some of those memories back in the right place, huh?" He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, smacking the side like he was trying to get water out his ears. "Got a straggler! Hup! There we go," he grinned, lowering his hand. "Good as new!"

Whatever he said must have been the right thing, because Mabel's eyes had lit up like he'd told her he was turning the Mystery Shack into a cotton candy emporium and Dipper had a sudden death grip on his other leg.

"Geez kid, you're clawing through my pants here," he grumbled, making no move to take away his nephew's hand. "Haven't you chewed your nails off by now? How're they so sharp?"

"You called me Pumpkin," Mabel whispered.

"You remembered I chew my nails," Dipper said in awe. Then he frowned. "Hey, how come Mabel gets a nice one and I get a gross one."

Stan shrugged. "'Cause she's nice, and you're gross."

"Ha! Zoom!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air before collapsing back into Stan's lap in a fit of giggles. Dipper rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he settled back against Stan's other side. Ford stayed perched on the arm of the chair, smiling fondly, but eyebrows still drawn together.

"What's the matter, Sixer?" Stan frowned as Ford grimaced at the nickname. "What?"

Ford waved off Stan's concern. "It's nothing. It's..." Ford sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not nothing. I just don't want to..." He pursed his lips.

"Don't leave us hanging." There was a shake in Stan's voice, and Mabel shifted closer to her Grunkle.

"I'm glad this has been helpful to you," Ford muttered. "But...you don't remember everything. Not really."

"Whaddya mean?" Stan asked. "I remember you, the kids, Soos. The freeloading jerk who steals my sandwiches." Stan glared at Waddles who simply oinked and started trying to eat his shoelace. Whatever. Free pass for jump starting his memories. He better not get used to it.

Dipper sat up. "Yeah, what do you mean, Great Uncle Ford?"

Ford frowned. "I just... Hm." He seemed to be weighing something in his mind before turning to Stan with some resolve.

"Stanley," he began slowly. "I hope you appreciate what I'm about to do for you."

"That's not terrifyingly ominous," Stan muttered, glancing around at the available exits.

"Do you remember my - " Ford cleared his throat. "My first kiss?"

Stan froze. "What?"

"My first kiss, do you remember it?"

"I was there?"

"Yes. Unfortunately a lot of people were."

Mabel squealed beside Stan. "Ooo! Romance memories! How old were you? Was it high school? Was it a high school romance? Was it star-crossed love between the nerd and the cheerleader?"

"Mabel, I think Grunkle Stan is supposed to figure that stuff out."

Mabel sat up and stared at Stan expectantly. "Come on Grunkle Stan! I need details!"

Stan shook his head, nose wrinkling like he'd smelled something rotting. "How should I know? Who asks their brother that sort of thing?"

"Precisely." Ford spoke with the same air of professionalism he adopted when explaining his theories, despite the alarming shade of red his face was becoming. "So far it seems that your memories are returning based on external stimuli, whether that be Mabel's scrapbook or our own prompting."

"So, wait, you're saying I won't get all my memories back?"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying," Ford held up his hands. "What I'm saying is we can't expect them all to come back at once. And at the risk of turning the Shack into the set of the Johnny Carson show, we'll keep asking you questions."

Stan frowned. "What if I don't wanna remember my brother smooching some babe?"

Ford turned redder. "You do."

"I do? Geez, I was a perv."

"In the meantime," Ford pressed. "It's important to take note of any stimulus you experience that makes you remember something. Even if it doesn't paint the whole picture for you, we can fill in the blanks. Or prompt you to remember more details."

Dipper grinned. "And then we get to learn more about the secrets you've been hiding, old man."

Stan lifted his hand to give Dipper a well-earned noogie, but paused before he could make contact. "Old man...did you...did you tell me to shut up one time and then punched me?"

Dipper balked. "What? No I - "

"YEAH no WAY that'd be CRAZY!" Mabel interjected a bit too loudly. "Anyway let's get back to that kissing story, huh?"

"Actually Mabel, I don't know if I want to hear about Great Uncle Ford kissing anybody either."

"Oh come on, Dipper. Are you jealous that The Author got someone to kiss him and you didn't?"

"What? No!"

"Some girls like nerds."

"Mabel I don't want to think about anybody in this room kissing anybody."

"You could learn from him Dipper! Figure out how to wield your nerdish charms. Soon you'll be like a kissing machine!"

"MABEL -"

The twins were silenced by a sudden gasp from Stan. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his jaw hanging open as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"Holy - " he choked out softly.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper sat up fully. "Are you okay?"

Stan didn't acknowledge him, eyes darting around minutely.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked softly. "Did you remember something?" Moisture had begun to gather in the corners of Stan's eyes, one of his hands covering his mouth as he began to shake.

"Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper turned to Ford, worry stitching his brows together. But Ford didn't look worried. If anything, he looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor. His face was an alarming shade of red, nearly identical to his sweater. Stan let out another choked sound.

"Are you..." Mabel trailed off. "Grunkle Stan are you laughing?" He was quaking now, his hand falling from his mouth to reveal a wide, open-mouthed smile. He began slapping the arm rest with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut and tears rolling down his cheeks. Dipper and Mabel shared a look. Sure, they'd seen Stan laugh before, but it was usually a loud guffawing thing. They'd never seen him like this. They shared a tentative smile. Either this was the hardest they'd seen him laugh, or he had really snapped.

Ford seemed to pick up on their worry. "He's fine," Ford offered. "He's just...remembering my first kiss." At Ford's words, Stan let out a loud cackle, burying his face in his hands.

Mabel cocked her head. "But what's so funny about -"

"You children must be exhausted," Ford blurted out, standing abruptly. "Come now, go wash up then head to bed!"

"Oh no you don't!" Stan shouted. He wiped tears from his eyes, still smiling. "You're not getting out of this one, pal!"

"Stanley, this conversation is hardly appropriate for children -"

"You brought it up!"

"And now I'm putting a stop to it."

Stan grabbed his head. "Ooooo ow," he gave an exaggerated groan. "My poor head. The mean man won't let me share my memories so they're all going away!"

"Stanley, please don't joke about that."

"I'm fading away - "

"Stanley."

Stan crossed his arms. "You know, you really know how to take the fun out of amnesia."

"Yeah! Come on Grunkle Ford," Mabel pouted. "You can't just leave us hanging!"

"Yeah!" Dipper joined in. "If it's a funny story I want to hear it."

Ford spluttered, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater and looking around for an exit.

"Come on, Sixer," Stan chimed in. His eyes had gone soft around the edges. "I think the kids deserve a funny story."

After today went unspoken. Ford met Stanley's gaze, already feeling his resolve melting before he even turned to his grand-niece and nephew's inquisitive smiles.

"Alright," Ford conceded. "But to maintain the integrity of the exercise, Stanley will be the one to tell it. Whatever he doesn't remember, I can fill in."

Stan rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy, this'll be good."

"I regret this already."

"It's alright Great Uncle Ford," Dipper patted his shoulder. "We have a whole summer's worth of stuff we get to make fun of Grunkle Stan for. This just gives us stuff to use against you now. Levels the playing field."

Ford frowned. "Is that meant to be comforting?"

Dipper shrugged.

"Alright you two, enough yapping." Stan grinned, leaning forward in his seat and spreading his hands out in front of him. It was the same way he started his campfire tales. Mabel and Dipper met each other's eyes and smiled.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Kiss-Bot..."

[taradactyls]

So I could be totally wrong but, I believe it was sort of expected that men/gentlemen lose their virginity before marriage in regency times. But I also there’s some fandom ‘debate’ about whether or not Mr Darcy would’ve had sex before getting married. So I was just curious about what your canon for Mr Darcy in T3W is. Is he a virgin or not?

I knew someone would ask me this eventually, haha. I've actually had really long conversations with my beta reader about this trying to figure it out. It sounds like this might all be stuff that you’ve already seen discussed in the fandom, but I’ve never thought about it deeply before and so these are new thoughts to me.

I keep going over the historical real-world likelihood, the authorial intent, and the text itself but I’m still not 100%. I’ll explain my thinking and what I find most likely, but here’s your warning that it’s not a clear cut yes/no.

Because on one hand, at that time period it was most common for men in his position to have seen sex workers or have casual encounters/mistresses with women from their estates. Though I do absolutely believe not all men did that, no matter how much wealth and power they had. To go back some centuries, William the Conqueror seemed to be famously celibate (no hints of male lovers either according to the biography I read) until his marriage, and there's no evidence of affairs after it either. The best guesses as to why are that it was due to his religious devotion and the problems that had arisen from himself being a bastard and not wanting to recreate that situation. Concerns over religion and illegitimate children would certainly still have been applicable in the regency to men who thought that way. And in modern times I've seen sex workers say that when an 18/21yo is booked in by his family/friends to 'become a man' often they end up just talking and agree to lie about the encounter. After all, it’s not like every man wants casual sex, even if they aren’t demisexual or something in that vein. But, statistically speaking, the precedent of regency gentlemen would make Darcy not a virgin.

On the other hand, just how aware was Jane Austen, the very religious daughter of a country rector, of the commonness of this? There’s a huge difference between knowing affairs and sex workers existed (and no one who had seen a Georgian newspaper could be blind to this) and realising that the majority of wealthy men saw sex workers at some point even if they condemned the more public and profligate affairs. The literature for young ladies at the time paints extramarital sex - including the lust of men outside of marriage - as pretty universally bad and dangerous. This message is seen from 'Pamela' and other gothic fiction to non-fiction conduct books which Jane Austen would have encountered. Here's something I found in 'Letters to a Young Lady' by the reverend John Bennett which I found particularly interesting as it's in direct conversation with other opinions of the era:

"A reformed rake makes the best husband." Does he? It would be very extraordinary, if he should. Besides, are you very certain, that you have power to reform him? It is a matter, that requires some deliberation. This reformation, if it is to be accomplished, must take place before marriage. Then if ever, is the period of your power. But how will you be assured that he is reformed? If he appears so, is he not insidiously concealing his vices, to gain your affections? And when he knows, they are secured, may he not, gradually, throw off the mask, and be dissipated, as before? Profligacy of this kind is seldom eradicated. It resembles some cutaneous disorders, which appear to be healed, and yet are, continually, making themselves visible by fresh eruptions. A man, who has carried on a criminal intercourse with immoral women is not to be trusted, His opinion of all females is an insult to their delicacy. His attachment is to sex alone, under particular modifications.

The definition of a rake is more than a man who has seen a sex worker once, it's about appearance and general conduct too, but again, would that distinction be made to young ladies? Because they seem to simply be continuously taught 'lust when unmarried is bad and beware men who you know engage in extramarital sex.' As a side note, Jane Austen certainly knew at least something about the mechanics of sex: her letters and literature she read alludes to it, and she grew up around farm animals in the countryside which is an education in itself.

We can also see from this exert that the school of thought seems to be 'reformed rake' vs 'never a rake' in contention for the title of best husband, there's no debate over whether a current rake is unsuitable for a young lady. And, from Willoughby to Wickham to Crawford, I think we have a very clear idea of Jane Austen's ideas of how likely it is notably promiscuous men can reform. This does not preclude the possibility that her disparaging commentary around their lust is based more on over-indulgence or the class of women they seduce, but it's undoubtedly a condemnation of such men directly in line with the first part of what John Bennett says so it's no stretch to believe she saw merit in the follow-on conclusions of the second part as well. Whether she would view it with enough merit to consider celibacy the only respectable option for unmarried men is a bit unclearer.

I did consider that perhaps Jane Austen consciously treated this as a grey area where she couldn’t possibly know what young men did (the same reasoning is why we never see the men in the dining room after the ladies retire, etc) and so didn't hold an opinion on men's extramarital encounters with sex workers/lower-class women at all, but I think there actually are enough hints in her works that this isn’t the case. Though, unsurprisingly, given the delicacy of the subject, there’s no direct mention of sex workers or gentlemen having casual lovers from among the lower-classes in her texts.

That also prevents us from definitively knowing whether she thought extramarital sex was so common, and as unremarkable, as most gentlemen treated it. But we do see from her commentary around the consequences of Maria Bertram and Henry Crawford's elopement that she had criticism of the double standards men and women were held to when violating sexual virtue. Another indication that she perhaps expected good men to be capable of waiting until marriage in the way that she very clearly believed women should. At the very least, a man who often indulges in extramarital sex does not seem to be one who would be considered highly by Jane Austen.

She makes a point of saying, in regards to not liking his wife, that Mr Bennet “was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice.” This must include affairs, though cheating on a wife cannot be a 1:1 equivalent of single young men sleeping around before marriage. However, the latter is generally critically accepted to be one of the flaws that Darcy lays at Wickham’s door along with gambling when talking about their youth and his “vicious propensities" and "want of principle." Though this could be argued that it’s more the extent or publicity of it (but remembering that it couldn't be anything uncommon enough that it couldn't be hidden from Darcy Sr. or explained away) rather than the act itself, or maybe seductions instead of paying women offering those services. I also believe Persuasion mentioning Sunday travelling as proof of thoughtless/immoral activity supports the idea that Jane Austen might have been religious enough that she would never create a hero who had extramarital sex.

So, taken all together this would make Darcy potentially a virgin, or, since I couldn't find absolute evidence of her opinions, leave enough room that he isn’t but extramarital sex isn’t a regular (or perhaps recent) thing and he would never have had anything so established as a mistress.

I’ve also been wondering, if Darcy isn’t a virgin, who would he have slept with? I’ve been musing on arguments for and against each option for weeks at this point. No romantasy has ever made me think about a fictional man's sexual habits so much as the question of Darcy's sexual history. What is my life.

Sex workers are an obvious answer, and the visits wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows. Discretion was part of their job, it was a clean transaction with no further responsibilities towards them, and effective (and reusable, ew) condoms existed at this time so there was little risk of children and no ability to exactly determine the paternity even if there was an accident. It was a fairly ‘responsible’ choice if one wanted no strings attached. In opposition to this, syphilis was rampant at the time, and had been known to spread sexually for centuries. Sex workers were at greater risk of it than anyone else and so the more sensible and risk-averse someone is (and I think Mr Darcy would be careful) the less likely they would be to visit sex workers. Contracting something that was known as potentially deadly and capable of making a future wife infertile if it spread to her could make any intelligent and cautious man think twice.

Servants and tenants of the estate are another simple and common answer. Less risk of stds, it can be based on actual attraction more than money (though money might still change hands), and is a bit more intimate. But Wickham’s called wicked for something very similar, when he dallies (whether he only got to serious flirting, kissing, or sleeping with them I don’t think we can conclusively say) with the common women of Meryton: “his intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family.” And it isn't as though Wickham had any personal duty towards those people beyond the claims of basic dignity. Darcy, who is shown to have such respect and understanding for his responsibilities towards the people of his estate and duties of a landlord, would keenly feel if any of his actions were leading his servants/tenants astray and down immoral paths. Servants, especially, were considered directly under the protection of the family whose house they worked in. I think it's undoubtable that Mrs Reynolds (whose was responsible for the wellbeing - both physically and spiritually - of the female servants) would not think so well of Mr Darcy if he had experimented with maids in his youth. It would reflect badly on her if a family entrusted their daughter to her care and she 'lost her virtue' under her watch. Daughters/widows of others living on the estate not under the roof of Pemberley House are a little more likely, but still, if he did have an affair with any of them I can only think it possible when he was much younger and did not feel his duties quite so strongly. Of course lots of real men didn't care about any of this, but Darcy is so far from being depicted as careless about his duties that the narrative makes a point of how exceptional his quality of care was. Frankly, it's undeniable that none of Jane Austen's heroes were flippant about their responsibilities towards those under their protection. I cannot serious entertain an interpretation that makes Darcy not, at his current age, at least, cognizant of the contemporary problems inherent in sleeping with servants or others on his estate.

A servant in a friend’s house would remove some of that personal responsibility, but transfer it to instead be leading his friend’s servants astray and in a manner which he is less able to know about if a child did result. That latter remains a problem even if we move the setting to his college, so not particularly likely for his character as we know it… though it wouldn’t be unusual for someone to be more unthinking and reckless in their teenage years than they are at twenty-eight so I don’t think having sex then can be ruled out. Kissing I can much more easily believe, especially when at Oxford or Cambridge, but every scenario of sleeping with a lower-class woman has some compelling arguments against it especially the closer we get to the time of the novel.

Men did of course also have affairs with women of ranks similar to their own, though given Jane Austen’s well-known feelings towards men who ‘ruined’ the virtue of young ladies we can safely say that Darcy never slept with an unwed middle- or upper-class woman. Any decent man would have married them out of duty if it got so far; but if he was the sort to let it get so far, I think it impossible Jane Austen would consider him respectable. Widows are a possibility, but again, the respectable thing to do would be to marry them. Perhaps a poorer merchant’s widow would be low enough that marriage is off the table but high enough that the ‘leading astray’ aspect loses its master-servant responsibilities (though the male-female ‘protect the gentler sex’ aspect remains) but his social circle didn’t facilitate meeting many ladies like that. Plus, an affair with a woman in society would remove many layers of privacy and anonymity that sex-workers and lower-class lovers provided by simply being unremarkable to the world at large. It carries a far greater risk of scandal and a heavier sense of immorality in the terms of respecting a woman’s purity which classism prevented from applying so heavily to lower-class women.

I think it’s important to note here that something that removes the need to think about duties of landlords towards the lower-classes or gentlemen towards gentlewomen is having affairs with other men of a similar rank. But, aside from the risk of scandal and what could be called the irresponsibility of engaging in illegal acts, it’s almost certain that Jane Austen would never have supported this. For a devout author in this era the way I’m calculating likelihoods makes it not even a possibility. But if you want to write a different fanfiction (and perhaps something like a break-up could explain why Darcy doesn’t seem to have any closer friend than someone whom he must have only met two or so years ago despite being in society for years before that) it does have that advantage over affairs with women of equal- and lower-classes. I support alternate interpretations entirely – it just isn’t how I’m deciding things in this instance.

I keep coming back to the conclusion that, at the very least, Darcy hasn’t had sex recently and it was never a common occurrence. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jane Austen felt he hadn’t done it ever. Kissing, as we can see from all the parlour games at the time, wasn’t viewed as harshly, so I think he’s likely made out with someone before. But in almost every situation it does seem that the responsible and religious thing to do (which Jane Austen values so highly) is for it to never have progressed to sex. I also don’t think it conflicts with his canon characterisation to say that he wouldn’t regard sexual experience as a crucial element of his life thus far, and his personality isn’t driven to pursue pleasure for himself, so it’s entirely possible that he would never go out of his way to seek it. So, I’m inclined to think that the authorial and textual evidence is in favour of Darcy being a virgin even if the real-world contemporary standard is the opposite. (Though both leave enough room for exceptions that I’m not going to argue with anyone who feels differently; and even if you agree with all my points, you might simply weight authorial intent/textual evidence/contemporary likelihoods differently than I do and come to a different conclusion).

Remember that even if Darcy is a virgin this wouldn’t necessarily equate to lack of knowledge, only experience. There were plenty of books and artwork focused on sex, and Darcy, studious man that he is, would no doubt pay attention to what knowledge his friends/male relatives shared. Though some of it (Looking especially at you, 'Fanny Hill, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure') should NEVER be an example of appropriate practice for taking a woman's virginity. Darcy would almost certainly have been taught directly or learnt through exposure to other men talking to make sex good for a woman – it was a commonly held misconception (since Elizabethan England, I believe) that women had to orgasm to conceive. It would be in his interests as an empathetic husband, and head of a family, to know how to please his wife.

Basically, I’m convinced Darcy isn’t very experienced, if at all, and will be learning with Elizabeth. But he does have a lot of theoretical knowledge which he’s paid careful attention to and is eager to apply.

[mala--draws]

ss redraw :p

(the aftermentioned commentary for 1992)

[msue0027]

Matt Smith would make a terrific and terrifying Master.

[loverrrrrr17]

Can we talk about how America Ferrera delivered this insanely beautiful and impactful monologue about the hardships of being a woman. One of which is the fact that women have to be accountable for men’s actions which she says herself is insane.

And yet.

Here we are. Having to explain to men that the Barbie movie is not anti-men or sexist or meant to make men hate themselves.

We have to, yet again, be accountable for what men feel, and explain that, oh no we don’t hate you! We didn’t mean to upset you! Because the whole point was lost on them.

And now instead of my dash being filled with the magnificence of Barbie and the discoveries she’s made or even just the fact that Ken starts taking control of his life, I am instead somehow subjected to discourse after discourse of people needing to break down the movie so men will stop complaining about it.

I just. Wow. Being a woman. It always comes back to this, doesn’t it. And I hate it. Because we deserve more honestly.

[eulaliasims]

Queer people have always been here and we always will be. Happy Pride.

[linddzz]

Idk if you've talked abt this before, but how did u think the jayvik divorce was gonna go pre s2? Because I thought i kinda knew were this was going, with Jayce getting involved in politics and Viktor getting sucked into dark magic; and the ominous line "Jayce will understand" (I thought this was an obv setup and that he wouldn't, of course) and then SEASON 2 CAME AND PULLED THE RUG OUT FROM UNDER ME, like whatever i expected it was NOT WHATEVER THIS WAS

I think I've just mentioned it offhand when ranting about how fucking nuts they went but yeah I don't think anyone expected what happened??

My expectations were pretty similar to yours. I figured the attack would get Jayce more radicalized and would build on the growing fear based prejudice he displayed on the bridge, and hextech weapons would be their breaking point. With shimmer being what made Jinx more powerful, and Viktor using shimmer on himself...yeah I also assumed the "Jayce will understand" line was going to become tragically ironic. I actually kind of dreaded season 2 because I liked Jayce, couldn't see things playing out any other way for him, and didn't want to watch him go down a path of embracing weapons and reacting badly to Viktor's self experimentation! I didn't want to see the rift they had just started to repair get torn apart again!

I couldn't guess at all about Viktor though. I had some ideas of how he would end up as the machine herald by increasingly augmenting more and more parts of his body with the shimmer and hextech combo, but couldn't see how he could get there. At the end of Season1 he seemed pretty resigned to death and fully against using the hexcore. I just couldn't figure out how someone as resolute and firm in his principles would change on that decision.

Which ...I guess means I understood Viktor as a character way more than I understood Jayce lmaoo. Turns out I was right! Viktor wouldn't have changed his stance on using the hexcore on himself to save himself! Even with all my jokes about how Jayce couldn't stay out of Viktor's personal space, I did not anticipate "Jayce will understand" being CORRECT and that Jayce would understand so much that he would use Viktor's own notes.

Technically, Jayce making hextech weapons was why Viktor left I guess??? But it took a second attack to make Jayce break on that stance, which made said decision more understandable, and you'd only catch that the weapons were part of why Viktor left if you noticed that he was staring at their blueprints before he said that he needed to leave.

Tbh every act of season 2 had me going "ok I think I know how this divorce may play out now" only for Arcane to go "champ, you have no idea how insane they are about each other"

[owl-bones]

it will come as no surprise but my favourite pokemon is darkrai

[aaanyaajpg]

HE IS PISSED, AS HE SHOULD RIGHTFULLY BE!

And the amount of “Ferrari fired the wrong driver,” glazing is insane

[krazieka2]

Comic done for the Hapi zine on twitter! I'm not sure if tumblr likes links so ummm look up Hapi Zine on bigcartel, leftover sales are still going. Check out the merch there's some cute stuff there!

[hannahssimblr]

Afterwards, my parents call. Obligatory. Happy Christmas, son, kind of thing. Tap. Camera. Their faces show up on the screen, heads uncomfortably close to one another, as though they are trying to create the illusion of happiness. For who? I think. I already know your marriage is fucked. 

“Is it late?” My mother is saying, and I tell her no. Just an hour difference. It’s past eleven.  

In the background, granny complains about a stain in the tablecloth. Ah, I think. That’s for who. Playacting happy families to please a woman who has never experienced pleasure in her life. 

It is one of those calls with a lot of pauses. Dead air, where nobody knows what to say. All waiting for the minutes to tick down, to reach an acceptable time to hang up. 

“You’ll get our gift when you get back to Berlin.” That’s dad, speaking in that way where he doesn’t open his mouth all the way, can’t be bothered moving his jaw. 

“Thanks. What is it?”

“The 4S,” he says, at the same moment mom says, “it’s a surprise.”

“Nice, thanks.”

“Your iPhone working out okay?”

“Yeah, could be better, though. Could be the 4S.” 

Nobody says anything. Sounds in the background. The television on. Running ads. 

“You were missed this year,” says mom. “When are you coming home?”

“March, I think.”

“Do you think you’ll bring Astrid?”

Glancing now at her, reading her book at the head of the bed. She looks up and pulls a face. 

“I’ll ask her.”

“I know Ivy wants to meet her.”

“Yeah, I know that. It just depends on our schedules and stuff.”

“Are you being respectful to her family?” That’s dad, out of the blue, like he’s been holding that one in.

“No,” I say.

“I know how you are with grown-ups. If I found out you’ve been rude or ungrateful towards them… It’s generous of them to take you for Christmas, and I hope you’ve been gracious.”

“Yeah, dad, I’ve been literally so nice. What did you think I was going to do to them? I’m an adult, like. You don’t need to talk to me like this anymore.” 

“Well, I know some things don’t change so easily. May I remind you of the calls we got about your behaviour from other parents and your teachers?”

I heave out a sigh. The insanity of his idea that Gitte might phone him in Ireland to complain about the behaviour of his twenty-year-old son. “He didn’t thank me for the Rødkål,” she’ll say somberly, and he’ll be humiliated, forced to apologise on my behalf, promising to discipline me appropriately at the end of term. 

“See? You act this way, sighing like a teenager, and then wonder why I worry about your behaviour. When you grow up and consider the impact this attitude has on the reputation of this family, then—”

“Ivy’s gone to bed, has she?” I continue conversationally and force him to stop talking through my favourite tactic, pretending he is not there. Mom nods. “She was up early opening her presents.”

“Mad that even when there’s no Santa anymore, she’s still doing that.”

“Yes.” Her mouth twitches like she thinks she’s smiling. “Not as early as a couple of years ago.”

“Yeah, the four o’clock wake up call was not ideal. Did she like the polaroid camera?”

“She loved it. Already ran out of film taking pictures of a cat in the garden.”

“Classic.”

Silence. “How are your finances?” 

Irritation blooms in my chest. The urge to hang up the phone. “Fine, I think. I don’t know.”

“You’re being careful with your money?”

“Yes.”  

“Ivy would have been happy with something worth ten or fifteen euros. She doesn’t need expensive things from you. Just a token would do. One of those Pillow Pets.”

“It’s fine. I’ve enough.”

“Okay, because you know when it’s gone, it’s gone, Jude. We’ve agreed–”

“Yes!” I cry. “Yes, I know. It’s fine. I have money.”

“Okay. I hope you didn’t spend more than you needed, is all I’m saying. It’s natural to want to impress people with gifts, you know, especially when you have a girlfriend, but if she really cares for you, then she won’t expect–”

“I have to go. She’s calling me.”

Astrid looks up, frowning. 

“Oh,” says mom.

“Yeah, sorry, she needs me to do something. I have to go. Thanks for the iPhone, or whatever. I’ll thank you again when I get back to Berlin. Tell Ivy I was asking after her. Bye.” End Call button. They’re swallowed by the home screen. 

I fall sideways onto the bed while Astrid’s mouth curls up. “Your phone conversations with your family are quite stressful.”

“Mostly because they don’t know how to be normal.” I wriggle my head toward her lap. “What are we reading?”

“My new book.”

“From Mia? You haven’t sacrificed it?”

“She has good taste, unfortunately.”

“Hm.”

Her hand comes to my scalp, stroking it with her nails. I love that. Let my eyes close as tingles cascade down the back of my skull. “That is the first time I’ve heard your father’s voice.”

“Oh, yeah, he and I don’t really talk except on special occasions.”

“He sounds highly strung.”

“Hmph,” I chuckle. “Understatement. He thinks his life is on the precipice of catastrophe at every moment. He has the central nervous system of a man being hunted by a charging bear.”

“He doesn’t think very much of your manners, does he?”

“Doesn’t think much of me in general.”

“That’s a shame,” combing my fringe back from my forehead, looking at me with a gentle expression. “I think there’s a lot to love.”

A fluttery feeling in my stomach, like how I felt before we were together, when I’d still only touched her in my imagination. I want to trust her. Betrayed her earlier, with Mia in the study. Should have been loyal, knew she’d tell me about her past when she was ready. Times like this when her face is soft and open, I feel I could tell her anything in the world, but it’s only fear, I don’t know, habit, even, that prevents me. Always coming close to saying something about myself, but never doing it. Since when am I like this? This is who I am to people in Berlin. Was in Dublin, too, I suppose, but it’s worse now. I don’t want it to be worse.

“He basically told me I was shit my entire life,” I say. Oh God, a confession. Lingering there. Astrid's face doesn't change. No shock or disgust.

“As a child, too?” She says.

“Yeah, he… well, he didn’t really raise me. That was Maureen, in America. She did all the actual work. He’d visit some weekends at college and hang around the house acting completely bored, like, obviously, just waiting to leave again. All the pictures of us together, he’s not even smiling or anything. Kind of trying to, maybe, but his face always looked so strained. I dunno. I think it was that he just didn’t want a kid yet. He would have, later, but I tried to ruin his plans, being born and all. He had this rigid life plan. He’d go to college, become a dentist, have a lot of money in the bank, then he’d meet a woman, get married, and have a baby. It all happened upside down for him, and it freaked him out on a cellular level. If you knew him it’d make sense. He gets agitated when things aren’t done the right way.”

“Too bad your mother seduced him, then.”

I smirk. “That’s probably what he’d say, yeah. It was all her fault, or whatever.”

“She was just too sexy to resist.”

“Ugh, please.”

“She is beautiful, your mother. You can tell she was even better when she was young. Not that she is old, I suppose. No wrinkles that I have ever seen.”

“She’s thirty-nine, and she gets injections in her face.”

“So what?”

“Well, whatever. She ruined his plans then. We did, the two of us. I had the power to ruin his life from within the womb, which is pretty cool, actually. He was so mad at me, it was like he refused to form a bond out of stubbornness alone. He knew how to do all these things, like fish and sail and shoot, but never taught me how. Maureen was always on at him to take me on trips.”

“And he didn’t?”

“No, he did, like, about twice, but I always ended up doing something that annoyed him. Like being frightened by dead animals, which was obviously unforgivable. He was going on then all the time about how soft I was.”

“Being soft is okay.”

I glance up at her. “I’m not that soft.”

“If you say so.”

“Well, anyway, basically he just doesn’t respect me, and I don’t respect him, and we kind of barely tolerate each other and always have, and were forced to exist under the same roof for like, eight years after we moved to Ireland. He thinks I’m fundamentally stupid, and lazy, and lacking foresight and follow through, no backbone, weak, stupid, rude, a pathetic excuse…” I break off, sudden horrible sensation, like I might actually cry. Sad. It’s only Christopher, but being in Astrid’s lap while she touches my hair like this has me in a vulnerable condition. A six-foot-three baby, upset because his dad didn't pay him attention. 

“You’re not those things,” she murmurs. “He’s wrong.”

What I want to hear. She doesn’t do that a lot, reassure me. She assumes I don’t need it, and sometimes, it’s what I prefer. Getting to feel a bit invincible. Could be the influence of her environment that has her like this, surrounded by the memories, old photos, Nicklas’ mother, earlier, saying hello to her in the long grass like a ghost from simpler times. Whatever it is, I like it. I like her here. Even the ugly things.

“I like talking to you like this,” I murmur. “It’s nice.”

“Mm, yes.”

“We should feel okay doing it more, I think. You can tell me things if you want to. I’ll never judge you.”

“I have nothing to tell you. Nothing is important.”

“Okay.” Sleepier. The world taking on a dreamy, surreal feeling. “If you want, you could come to Ireland with me in March. See where I grew up.”

“Oh, you make Ireland sound so boring.”

“You said the same of Denmark, and here we are. I think it’s grand.”

“That is only your perception.”

“You really wouldn’t come? It will be even more boring without you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ivy will be so sad.”

“Ivy will survive.” Her hand moves to my face, skimming her nail gently down the bridge of my nose. Mystical finger shapes cross my vision. “Tell me what you will do there.”

“Play by play?”

“Mm.”

“I’ll meet Jen,” I say. “And maybe we’ll go to the pub. My friend Shane might join. Lives in Dublin now. They meet up sometimes. His girlfriend, too. She’s nice.”

“Mm.”

“And, I dunno. I suppose I might take Ivy to the cinema. Get her out of the house. Get pizza. She likes taking the train into the city together, looking out over the bay and all. Maybe we’ll–” a yawn escapes me, “maybe we’ll go up the coast. Cliff walks. Dead cold in March, mind, but so nice. Seagulls are villainous, there. Ravenous for chips, they rip them out of your hand.”

“Yes, mm,” she’s not really listening, but I don’t mind. Talking just to talk. It’s about being together more than anything. The importance of just touching, laying against the other, fingers intertwining lazily as white tufts appear, drifting outside the window. 

“Snow,” I say, interrupting my own monologue. “It’s snowing.”

Hardly looking up. “It won’t stay.”

“I’ve never seen snow on Christmas before.” Magical. 

“It’s just a little. Not proper snow.”

“A white Christmas.”

“No, another grey one.”

Suddenly, it’s all wonderful. Her, and me, and here. Love as a concept. And the snow coming down in little flurries, the quiet space between one year and the next, where time is slow and nothing is urgent. Not knowing if you’re supposed to wish on the first snow, but wishing anyway, for more of this, her, us, for a peaceful year. 

“Will you kiss me?” I whisper, so quietly she doesn’t hear me. 

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

She does. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[spagheddiesquash]

jawfizz doodles… actually maybe ill work on that ship name idk if i like the name i said.. anyway i mentioned before that my plan was to ship fizz with jawbone and so thats what i did!! never drawn anything like this before but im really liking how it turned out :^DDD

liked this? maybe u want to see more?? i dunno. but anyway if you liked it feel free to reblog!!

tracked time + kinda crappy bonus doodle under the cut

tracked time:

(do keep in mind this is elapsed. it really took me the past 3 days, on and off)

bonus doodle:

(i used up all my good art juices coloring the doodle sheet so unfortunately this one is noticeably not as good of quality. i at least got the idea down tho!!)

[channelslam]

tennis sorely needs better commentators like im convinced this is keeping this fuckass sport from hitting mainstream media

[masterfuldoodler]

wait guys actually! I have a great idea! Instead of feeling bad for reblogging our own art why don't we do a thing where we reblog older pieces/art that didn't get much attention/whatever you want and give commentary on it! Talk about what was fun to draw, what was hard, any interesting stories surrounding the making of it! Behind the scenes! pls guys that would be so fun to read I would LOVE to see that let's do it!

[satanfemme]

[alert sent out the evening of feb. 26th 2025]

myreps.datamade.us

full story