#hes like a bichon frise to me

[yardsards]

my fav thing abt mithrun is he's a traumatized grizzled warrior in the elf equivalent of his mid-late 30s, who spends his free time doing one-armed pushups and training to kill god. but also he looks Like This

[matoitech]

warmup i had ideas ive never drawn them b4 tho <3 fanart for anything is pretty rare from me. averi gets credit for the schnauzer idea and at least half the poodle idea bcuz i went w labradoodle i liked their coats more than a standard poodle (poodles dont naturally come in their silly cuts obviously but i liked the texture and look of a labradoodle more).

i was gonna do a gordon setter w him but i didnt think he felt like a black and tan dog. irish wolfhounds r coach potatos and dr coomer just straight up looks like a bichon frise to me. i have no comments on the golden retriever it wouldve been cheating not to. most of these were pretty instantaneous choices. also using their shitty low poly models as refs was great cuz i was just like idk how ppl choose to color them so im doing whatever and hoping its right

[weirdmorefics]

LOL I totally can imagine Crowley teasing Aziraphale about his doppelganger being Y/N's dog! GHCJNCFZZHGNCGKCNJGDSJ

Aziraphale's Secret Twin

Pronouns- They/Them

Word Count- 742

Summary- The reader's dog sitter cancels last minute so they are forced to bring their bichon frise to the bookshop.

Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Y/n was running late for their job at the bookshop which wasn't all that unusual because they always stopped for coffee at Give Me Death Or Give Me Coffee first. However, this time was a little different as they had everything ready to go just anxiously waiting for the dog sitter to pick their baby up. Unfortunately, the sitter called just minutes after their usual arrival time that they had the flu and could not make it. Y/n assured them it was fine and wished them a quick recovery.

Y/n squatted down to their dog's eye level, " Now what are we going to do with you today Mr." They ruffled their dog's fluffy head of the dog as the dog smiled widely back.

Y/n only saw one option they would simply bring their dog with them but hide it in their bag. Y/n couldn't possibly leave the pupper alone all day not with the dog's major separation anxiety and tendency to get into the trash.

Y/n tried to walk into the bookshop as quietly as possible but of course, the bell on the door immediately alerted Aziraphale to their presence.

"Good morning, Y/n" He smiled and welcomed them in. "I was thinking the bookshelves could really use a good dusting today," He says motivated and annunciating the word dusting by swinging his arm up.

Y/n felt the dog go to peek its head out of the bag at the new voice and they quickly try to settle the dog lower into the bag with their hand. Crowley who was sitting on the sofa observing your entrance made note of this action.

"Y/n?" Crowley questions you slightly tilting his sunglasses down his nose.

"Yes," Y/n blinked up at Crowley innocently fluttering their eyelashes.

"Did something just move in your bag?" He continued to question despite your cute efforts to distract him.

Y/n chuckles and makes an awkward excuse, "Maybe you need some prescription sunglasses."

Crowley and Aziraphale can always tell when Y/n is lying well most everyone can tell when they are lying because simply put Y/n is the worst liar in the galaxy. Aziraphalee gives Y/n a questioning look and Crowley slowly stalks towards Y/n like they are a deer that will spook at any sudden movements.

Y/n is quite literally back into a corner due to backing up into a wall due to Crowley's advances. Y/n yelps in shock when their back hits the wall and their dog instantly peeks its fuzzy little head out of the bag to check on their owner. Y/n facepalms at themselves how did they seriously think they were going to hide a dog from an angel and a demon for a full workday.

"Y/n, what is that?" Aziraphale points to the dog.

Y/n profusely apologizes, "I am so sorry! My dog sitter last minute canceled and I couldn't bear leaving my little baby at home all day." Y/n then lifts the little snowball dog from their bag and rubs it against their cheek.

Crowley rubs his chin in thought, "You know what Angel the little thing looks remarkably similar to you."

Aziraphale looks a tad offended putting a hand to his chest, "How does a dog look like me?"

Y/n nods looking between the dog and Aziraphale, "You know what I see it!"

Aziraphale's eyes narrow, "You do not Y/n!"

Crowley looks at Y/n, "I think it's the hair."

Y/n nods vigorously, "It's the fluffiness and curly cues! Now that I think of it they even act alike! My puppy is a true food connoisseur who only likes fancy expensive food. My puppy is super upbeat and always smiling like Aziraphale!" Y/n seems to get more and more excited as Crowley and they come up with more similarities.

"Fine, I must admit the hair is similar but do not compare my smile to a dog's smile." Aziraphale sighs.

Crowley smirks, "Don't worry angel no one has as cute of a smile as you."

To the untrained eye, no one would notice Aziraphale's slight blush and look to the side but Crowley who had known Aziraphale from the beginning, and Y/n who caught on quite quickly from working daily with the pair noticed instantly. Both had to fight back the huge smirks on their faces but both failed miserably.

[solargeist]

Do you think is that Nun Grian is, to the Watchers, like putting your toddler or your dog in little costumes? Like a baby dressed like a little office worker, or a bichon frise as a firefighter. I'm imagining his mom Watcher getting him the outfit, and he thinks that means he's finally being recognized as an adult, as a Watcher himself... but then the other Watchers see, and they all laugh and coo and pat his head. And he realizes it was just a costume, because he's just a pet to them. It hurts.

I’m not gonna lie that’s exactly the reason I’m doing it but ur last sentence hurt ME 😭💀 grian im sry I’m just as bad AKSJSJSO puppydog costume….

The nun uniform is not exactly canon, but if it were, it would be just because she thought he’d look so cute, ~and he does !!

Howeverrrrr the Watchers do wear a lot of loose fabrics, hoods, scarves, big shirts and dresses, etc. So when Grian wears a proper cloak, usually for outings to different servers, he gets doted on.

It was probably just awkward the first time he’s cooed at over his Watcher clothes, he thinks he has to just earn his place here, but after several times it becomes more and more disappointing

[calciumdeficientt]

I love your headcanons! I would like to see your headcanons about Lefty ToT please please 🩷🙏

LEFTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY by far the best greaser imo despite not being in a single cutscene (as far as I’m aware) hes just… hm something about him. My silly little kitty.

LEFTY MANCINI HCS

The fact his name means lefty left handed is really fucking funny to me. He is, naturally, one of the only if not THE only left handed greaser. His left handedness come on account of a vision difference in his right eye, so when he was little, he gravitated towards the left side because that was the eye he could properly see out of. Neil hates the fact he’s left handed and is quick to make assumptions that Lefty is sub-normal and is working with the illuminati to destroy his life. Crazy conspiracy theorist, yknow, but its enough to get Lefty to try using his right hand in shop class. After a couple of years he got the hang of it, so he’s a mildly ambidextrous student. Only in shop though, he can barely write with his left, let alone his right.

This boy is ITALIAN, like as Italian as they come and its a fact he holds as the core of his identity. His father is an Italian American Rhode-Islander, and his mother is from Southern Italy. He’s fluent in both Italian and English but chooses to speak in English more often, even around the other greasers, all of which are more than acquainted with the language. Not only does English make him sound tougher, but it makes his use of Italian at home feel all the more special and intimate.

Definitely sneezes like a girl. He’s allergic to dust so when they’re in the tenements the poor boy gets whaled on for his delicate little kitten sneezes. He’s done everything in his power to chasnge the noise, but to no success. His mother calls him her “gattino che starnutisce” (sneezing kitten) and he absolutely hates her for it, especially if she says it when he has his buddies over. It’s emasculating.

Gets the shit kicked out of him by the bullies all the time, more specifically by Wade, who doesnt take kindly to him courting his sister. The beatings actually have the polar opposite consequences, the more beat up he looks, the more Christy wants to make out with him. A far cry from the desired effect.

The scar on his face was from a dog attack when he was a kid, it was only a small dog, but he was a runt of a kid, it really got to him. He’s still a little wary of dogs to this day, the sound of barking puts him on edge. He’s got more scars than the one of his face, mostly around his hips and legs. He’s not self conscious about them, he thinks they make him look tough, but he is self conscious about the story. If anyone (especially ladies) asks him about them he makes up a fake story like a motorcycle accident or something more masculine. Not that an untrained bichon frise broke into his yard and started chowing down like it’d never been fed.

Consistently flunks out of gym class, not for a lack of trying either. He’s an asthmatic smoker, he’s not exactly cut out for it. Lefty tries to give it his all throughout class, especially if there’s cheerleaders watching, but he always seems to end up lagging behind with the nerds, blue faced and one wrong move away from dying there on the football field.

[thistransient]

Halfway through July, and I have neglected to write my yearly birthday introspection, although it did occur to me that between my birthday and the new year I was in fact doing two introspections a year anyways.

For certain reasons I've been waffling about it, but it's also quite nice to be able to look back and compare with the previous year, to see what's changed (sometimes unexpectedly) and what's still the same. Last year I mentioned I "made a close friend [...] and disentangled myself from a draining relationship", but in the end I had been drawn to said friend because he was the polar opposite of the person I was disentangling myself from, and while a different extreme might have been refreshing in the moment, that too was unsustainable in the long run. I think what finally dragged me out of the cycle of too-clingy/too-distant nebulous just-friends-but-what-if sort of relationships was twofold: I started going to counselling with a goal (not the usual "I feel like I'm having a breakdown so I'll see a therapist for 3-6 months before ditching"), and also got into a communal hobby such that I was able to make casual friends and attend regular and diverse events with a time limit (rather than laser focusing on one person and relying on them for all my socialising).

A year ago I said I was feeling adrift, goal-less, and filled with the sort of summer malaise inspired by the scorching Taipei weather this time of year. Unfortunately we are still rather scorched. The temperature and UV levels somewhat put a damper on my usual practice of walking around outside looking at things. On the positive side, I did struggle through the adrift-ness and applied for one (1) grad school program over the winter, which I didn't get into but I did learn that I feel better when I'm working on something, and I was also motivated to finally take Taiwan's Chinese proficiency exam to open up my options for the sort of programs I could try for in the future (I passed a level higher than I expected to, and it was great to feel acknowledgment of my competence at something I'd really put long-term effort into). After the grad school rejection I started planning the trip to Ladakh, which allllmost felt like it involved a similar level of paperwork and fuss- and actually pulling that off in the end (ok, even tho this was after my birthday) despite all my fears and anxiety (particularly around travelling post-transition) was also a great confidence boost. (For a week after I also had this frantic urge to drastically change my life, and I can't tell if it wore off with time or if the heat simply drained out all ambition beyond staying out of the sun and sitting in front of the fan eating cold dragonfruits.)

I have at least two proper goals now, and although one may require starting over entirely from an educational standpoint, as they say, "the time will pass anyways". On my bike rides at night I do tend to start pondering what shall become of me, creeping along in the years but being no closer to permanent or even temporary residency status than any other time I write about it either wistfully or with well-intentioned but otherwise ultimately futile determination, nor feeling like I am useful for any sort of capitalist pursuits. (I suppose this is the part of reflection wherein things have stayed the same, and we must stay tuned for next year.) But I also believe I have made some progress in deflating a little the omnipresent catholic guilt at simply existing, not to mention the adjacent notion that enjoying life a bit and not being maximally miserable at all times is a SIN. By this I mean I have gone twice now to a nice hair salon to let a beautiful woman shampoo, condition, and also give me a haircut that doesn't bear a strong resemblance to a bichon-frise immediately after.

All in all, I would say the verdict is incremental improvement. (Okay maybe I'm also racking up incremental nerve damage from all the shibari but you win some you lose some.) My housing/employment/visa-running status hasn't changed dramatically but I feel more hopeful and kinder with myself. I think my Chinese reading speed has kicked up a notch. I've managed to keep the instant noodle consumption under control. I've sent a lot of postcards on my quarterly trips, which are generally well-received. I have taken great delight in growing many plants in the window cage (whether they survive is another thing, RIP to the tomato plants while I was away, bravo to the basil that miraculously rehydrated from what seemed to be a completely unsalvageable state, sorry to the lemon tree sprout that was apparently doing fine on its own before I came back and over-watered it to death). Things feel kinda okay, and I used to be quite suspicious of this because surely they were only going to get worse again, but these days I figure hey, even so, might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

[twothpaste]

earthbound old man tier list

S Tier: Doctor Andonuts. idc what anyone says, he is a fascinating bewilderful tragic morally dubious rubiks cube of a character, and if i think about him for longer than 10 seconds i get so emo i wanna dye my hair black and run away into the woods. he is also very funny. i would squash him like putty.

A Tier: Wess. mother 3 wouldn't be mother 3 without Wess and i'm not kidding. i love how he is written as both a terrifying abusive father and also a genuinely wise antifa ally, the duality of humanity or whatever. a bunch of his lines still give me chills to this day. especially [ this one ]

Leder as well. absolute fucking real one. imagine taking a vow of silence for the rest of your life to protect your beloved community, none of whom even can remember the sacrifices you've made for them, singlehandedly bearing a lifetime of unfathomable trauma to spare them theirs. he is atlas with the planet earth on his shoulders. yet another character who turns my brains into spaghetti-os.

B Tier: George is one of the most intriguing characters in the series. Boy, I wish Itoi took the time to actually Write him!!! so many questions, so little canon material, but my imagination does drive me a bit to madness with this guy I fear.

C Tier: the fuck do you mean Geldegarde Monotoli was super wicked evil under Giygas' influence, kidnapped Paula, took over Cartoon New York with sheer capitalist ruthlessness - then as soon as you break the Mani Mani statue he's like -tiny bichon frise sneeze- "ouuugghhh goodness gracious i'm so sorry, i don't know what came over me, i am so harmless and frail and made of pudding also" -little pekingese cough- and Paula is like "don't worry ness 👧 he was just a sweet old man all along lol!!!" nvm it's pretty funny actually

Grandpa Alec goes in C Tier too. imo he's well written in chapter 1. his reaction to grief feels really off-kilter in a strangely human & believable way, like?? he is snapping at Lucas and immediately feeling remorse, cracking jokes to try and assure Flint (and himself) everything is ok when it clearly isn't, kooky silly and also unsettling at the same time. i think people forget that he's also a messy clumsy maladjusted grieving dad, just like Flint. but after chapter 1 he kinda falls off, doesn't have much interesting to say or add to the story. i find myself kinda wishing Lucas had a closer relationship to his grandpa implied post-timeskip… oh well.

is Jonel old? his sprite doesn't look ancient but considering his attitude & his adult kids I imagine him to be in his 60's probably. i like that he's a bit of an asshole, and his moment at the prayer sanctuary implies a religious aspect to the village that's super intriguing… iirc he has a line all the way in New Pork where he trash talks Flint for still holding out hope & tryin to find Claus, and it's like?? damn, Jonel, a cunt to the bitter end!! gotta love that.

likewise Mayor Pusher is one of those Tazmily villagers who really highlights how fake & callous some of these people can be. i love the part toward the end of chapter 7 where he blabbers about how much he hates this hick town and he's so eager to leave already, and when he catches Lucas eavesdropping iirc he's rude as ever to him. what a douchebag! no wonder his son is so depressed ❤️

Nippolyte is a benign real one and I like him, even though there's not much to him.

wish Scamp did or said literally anything of note before dying. oh well

D Tier: yeah fuck Mr. Carpainter though. i don't believe for a second he was solely driven to become a cult leader by alien brainwashing alone, dude's gonna be on some MLM shit within a year mark my words

??? Tier: i don't consider Mother 3 Porky an old man, i consider him Very a forever thirteen year old trapped in a sickly grotesque disproportionaltely aging body. but if you do consider him an old man, he's in the stratosphere tier blowing up the moon

[channieskies]

The Perfect Storm [HJS]

Pairing: Non-Idol|Han Jisung x Pet Groomer|Reader (She & Her pronouns used)

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: The storm brings in more than one unlikely companion to help you weather it.

Warnings: MC may suffer from some form of anxiety, more than likely, social.

Word count: 1,900 + [Reading time 8 minutes]

A.N: I wrote this a very long time ago for a friend and decided it was time to revamp it and put it out there. Thanks, @infamouskem , for letting me redo this.

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To quote Sophocles;

"Laziness is the mother of all evils."

At least, that's what she told herself as she worked tirelessly. After spending two years learning a language, she finally worked up the courage to move to another country- South Korea. She had been there six months and had secured herself a job she loves and an apartment that served its basic functions at least. I mean, who really needed a stove when food delivery service was just one click away? 

There were only a few more hours before closing time, then she could go home to bask in the comfort of her plush hoodie, bearded dragon, Mushu, and very her comfortable fuzzy socks. The bell above the door rang, indicating a customer had arrived. The owner greeted them, which meant she didn't have to, making her sigh out of relief. But she still watched the interaction through the large picture window that gave customers a look into the grooming area.

“I'm dropping my dog off for the first time. This place was recommended by a.. friend of mine.” The customer placed the dog on the counter. It was a cute little bichon frise with a red hoodie on. She couldn't help but smile at how it sniffed around, wagging its tail happily. She was in it for the pets and not so much for the human interactions. She was shy and mostly anxious, so being in the back made her comfortable, which is why she and her boss had come to an understanding. She groomed the pets, and her boss took care of the customers.

Once the cute bichon Frise, whose name she found out was Bbama, was checked in, her boss brought him back for her to attend to. “His owner should be back in two hours, and since we don’t have any more appointments, I’m going to head out with my son.” She said as she placed the cute dog into her employees' hands. “He says I never have time to do stuff with him, so I’m taking him to a movie. But don’t worry, I’ll be back before the customer comes back to get Bbama.” She put a reassuring hand on the girl's back before turning and leaving out. She locked up the front, leaving the girl and the dog to themselves. 

Y/n put on some music before moving back over to the little dog. She took off his cute little red hoodie and put it someplace safe. She started with clipping his hair and nails before moving to wash and dry him. Before she knew it, time slipped past. She had easily bonded with the friendly dog, his presence making her miss the pets she left back at home in her country. “You're really cute, you know that.” 

It was as if he really understood her as he stood up on his hind legs, his short little paws on her chest as he licked her face, giving her a kiss. She chuckled only for her time with him to be interrupted by a knock on the front door. Her music was low enough for her to be able to hear when her boss came back, so that's who she expected it to be. She grabbed Bbama and carried him in her arms to the front, but it was not what she was expecting at all. 

She stopped dead in her tracks at the midway point between the swinging door that led to the grooming salon and the fence that was next to the front desk. She began to panic. Usually her boss took care of things like this, but here she was alone, her boss nowhere to be found even after two hours. It was pouring down outside, and she felt so bad for the young man who was trying his best to stay under the small awning. 

She sighed, pushing all her anxieties to the back of her head and heading to the door to unlock it. He rushed in with a charming smile on his face. “For a second there, I thought you weren't going to open the door.” He laughed as she bit down on her bottom lip. “Is he ready?” He asked, nodding his head towards Bbama, whom she was still carrying around. 

“A-ah yeah.” She nodded, handing the slightly damp man his dog. “I’ll check you out.” Her words resounded in her head, making her rethink them. Yes, he was very attractive, but she wasn’t trying to let him know she thought that. “I-I mean, I’ll… uh… I’ll help you cash out your bill.” She swallowed the large lump in her throat as she scrambled to the cash register.

“Cute.” He spoke under his breath as he leaned against the counter, putting Bbama down on the surface. Her face heated up, though she was skeptical if he was referring to her or his pet. She looked over his paperwork and quickly inputted the information into the computer, but just as she was about to press the checkout button, the lights went out. She left out a scream as the room went dark. The whole block was powerless. “Are you okay?” He asked. His smooth melodic voice somehow managed to comfort her, though she was scared out of her mind. 

“I-I’m fi-fine.” Her shaky voice revealed her true feelings. She and the small dog were both rattled.

“I don't want you to take this the wrong way… but you don’t sound fine." There was still a little light outside, making it easier for him to scope out his surroundings. "How about we get away from these big windows, I don’t think they are helping you.” Lightning stuck as he talked, lighting the small store front of the salon. Normally she would object, but she was too scared to stay up front, she couldn’t send him and Bbama into a storm like that, and she didn’t know his owner well enough to just leave him in the front with valuable merchandise. 

“Follow me.” She shuffled to the door with the help of her phone's flashlight and held the door open for him. She took him to the employee break room where the windows were small and up high so they would know when the rain stopped but wouldn’t have to deal with seeing so many strikes of lighting. He kept his dog close as he made himself comfortable in one of the chairs at the break room table.

“I guess I should introduce myself, I’m Jisung.” He chuckled awkwardly. The light of her flashlight kept the room from being pitch black. It also helped her to see him avoiding her eyes as she did the same.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” She mumbled, finding a spot and keeping her eyes focused on it.

“Bbama really took to you. He usually isn’t that trusting of strangers. But he seemed like he almost didn’t want to come back.” He spoke softly as he rubbed th dogs' freshly washed and dried coat. She smiled to herself. 

“He’s a cute little guy.” She admitted softly. Jisung's presence was surprisingly comforting. He seemed almost, if not, equally as awkward as she was. He just had a better way of hiding it. "I've taken to him too." She reached out and rubbed the dogs fur, her soft touch causing him to wag his tail.

They talked for a while about Bbama, how he came to adopt him, how long he'd had him, and ao on. Then, they found out they had similar tastes in a few other things like games and their love of Japanese rock and anime theme songs. Though she wasn’t normally talkative, she found it easy to converse with him. Her attraction to the beautiful young man just kept growing. 

There was a loud and sharp lightning strike nearby that caused the corpuscular room to go white, the whole building shook with the loud thunder that came right after. She whimpered, scared to even open her eyes at this point. Jisung reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. Bbama cowered into a ball, hiding himself in Jisung's sweatshirt.

“It’s okay, just focus on the sound of my voice.” Jisung started off humming, filling the space with a soft melody. But slowly, he started to get into it, noticing just how much she seemed to relax. He changed songs, giving words to whatever random thing he was singing. His mellow voice flowed into her ears, and his voice made her feel as if there were no other singers in the world. There was only Jisung and his beautiful voice. He scooted closer to her, now taking both of her shaking hands into his. 

With their knees now touching, it made it easy for Bbama to move from Jisungs lap to hers, where he found just as much comfort. “It’s okay, Y/n. You aren’t alone.” It was like her fears slowly melted away from the presence of this man and his cute little dog. If you asked her, there was no way this random guy visited her store and was able to make her warm up to him like this. 

No, Jisung had to be an angel of some sorts. He drew closer to her, his face mere inches away. “See it’s not that bad. It’s just a little storm.” She didn’t know what came over her, but she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. He made an attempt to wrap his arms around her, only for her to pull away quickly, flustered.

“I’m so sorry!” 

He paused, almost failing to process the abrut exit from his personal space. He started into her eyes, getting lost in them. "Please forgive me. I was startled, and I- you were just so comforting that I kind of lost myself for a second. Oh gosh, I hope you don't think Im some kind of weirdo that hugs randome guys who sing to her. Im so sorry." She covered her face as she stopped her rambling, her mind running at the speed of light. He didn't say anything. He just pulled her hands away, his lips quickly covering hers in a quick, dreamy kiss. 

She was so shocked she looked like a fish out of water as she blinked wildly at him. She often made fun of the clueless girls in drama’s but now she had joined the ranks of the girls she had made fun of over the years. He pulled back with a shy smile on his face. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” She shook her head, feeling just as shy about what just happened. Silence took over the room, the storm soon dying down. 

The lights flickered back on, but the silence still remained. Soon enough, her boss came rushing in, apologizing for being caught up in the storm.

Too embarrassed to move, Y/n sat there while her boss saw Jisung and Bbama off. She soon came back in the back with a small piece of paper in hand. “Here, he left this for you.” Y/n looked at it confused before opening the small folded paper.

 “Maybe next time we can have a date before we kiss? Bbama’s dad, Jisung.” His number was scribbled right below his name. She squealed, not believing something like that had happened to her. She tucked the paper away safely, looking forward to the day they would meet again.

FIN

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A.N: Please reblog or leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

[Rewrites, Reposts, and Translations are Prohibited]

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[cinnamonsly]

thinking about HMS as dog breeds

soul being a vizsla, mind being a doberman, and heart being a bichon frise

reasoning:

soul just reminds me of a vizsla. he gives me those vibes. they feel like a very regal breed to me and i always associate those vibes with soul so

dobermans have a threatening aura but are actually not very threatening when you get to know them (in my experience at least) much like mind

bichon frise’s are extremely non threatening as well as very cuddly and innocent looking, which are vibes heart tries to give off. but i imagine heart would be an especially feral bichon and use his innocent looks to his advantage to get the other two to pity him (he’s manipulative af)

[freakartack]

How do you think Orbulon would react to the insects and arachnids of Diamond City specifically? They look kinda similar hehe

HEHEHEHE he is a bug

Racking my brain for bugs but the only Diamond City-exclusive arthropod I can remember right now is Scratchy? Am I losing my touch. Let me know if there's any obvious bugs I'm missing (game bugs notwithstanding)

But, as far as standard bugs in general go, I think Mona has really won him over on them. Prior to Mona's influence he didn't really think much of them (he regarded them the same as any other Earth creature, and parasites like ticks and mosquitoes want nothing to do with him), but Mona's extreme love of hairy bugs kind of rubbed off on him, and now when he sees a house fly land on poop or something he thinks of her fondly.

That being said, I think he is not immune to being offput by certain Earth creatures. I could definitely see him getting attacked by dogs - not people dogs, but the regular kind - maybe like a bichon frise? In any case, he might be a little wary around Kat & Ana's for a while. Similarly, I think that were he to go on a vacation to Antarctica (to enjoy the refreshingly subzero temperatures of course), he would immediately get attacked by penguins. I'm realizing now that this post has devolved into "list of animals that would attack orbulon", but it's fine. Bugs are not one of them!

Also, that reminds me: I did actually draw him getting attacked by nondescript birds as well! Enjoy!

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

147 my god!!!!! This is over 1000 words

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It feels as close to the experience of a hospital waiting room as probably exists anymore. 

Bobby nods. “It’s resolved. Not to worry.”

“The radio?” Athena asks.

“No longer transmitting. We don’t need anyone else finding this place,” Bobby explains. “I’m just glad it was you and not someone we don’t know.”

Athena nods. “The end of the world brings out the worst in people.”

“Enables the worst in them, certainly,” Bobby agrees. 

“Though I suppose not everyone,” Athena adds. “Look at what you’ve done here.”

Bobby smiles, gesture feeling slightly forced. “Thank you. We’re getting by.”

“Looks more like thriving, compared to some of what I’ve seen.”

Well, that’s fair. Bobby hasn’t seen as much. He’s happy not to know. Happy not to be part of a larger, more dangerous world. He can’t risk losing another family. 

Before Bobby can reply, Hen and Chim walk out of the utility closet where they’ve been treating May. 

“How is she?” Athena asks, rising to her feet. 

“She has an infection,” Hen says. “But not the infection. Likely, something got in the wound. Or, the zombie that scratched her had something gross on its hands.”

“We’re doing what we can,” Chim says. “If it gets worse, we’d have to take the leg.”

Athena gasps. 

“We’re not there yet, Athena,” Hen assures her. 

Athena takes a deep breath. 

“I trust you, Hen. Do what you have to do to save my baby. She’s more than a leg.”

Bobby swallows. His mind can’t help drifting to his own kids. He feels a desperate, nagging need to prevent her from experiencing his agony. He doesn’t know her kids at all, but he wouldn’t wish that loss on anyone. It’s completely unnatural. Completely soul-changing. So very hard to survive. 

“It’s a waiting game for now,” Chim tells her. “You and your son should rest. We’ll keep you updated, and you can see her.”

Athena sighs. “I can’t rest now. I have to go check the old house. See what I can crab. See if there are any signs of Michael.”

“Town’s not so bad for zombies anymore,” Chim tells her. “They’re mostly all dead.”

Bobby still feels a pang of anxiety at the thought of her going out into it alone, anyway. 

“You want backup?” He offers. 

Athena smiles a little ruefully. “I never did work with a partner, captain.”

“We’ve got an electric vehicle,” he shrugs. “Don’t waste your gas.”

Pragmatism often wins out over ego, he finds. Or just a desire to be alone. 

She nods. “Well, alright then. Thank you.”

▪️▪️▪️

Before the outbreak, Bobby had been a truck guy. Maybe that was just familiarity with the battalion trucks at work, maybe it was a lifetime of driving on snowier, rougher roads. The immediate halt of gasoline production changed that, of course. Hard to appreciate a gas guzzler when each refill is a chore. Siphoning is one thing. Locating gas to be siphoned? Another. 

Luckily for them, the community center already had one of the town’s only public EV charging stations. And a few of the more affluent residents, all of whom died fairly quickly, left behind their expensive cars. It was Karen who proposed they take as many as they could. She could work with their computer systems, and the rest of them were handy with vehicles on account of the job. So now Bobby finds himself driving a Tesla, covered in looted bumper stickers from the dollar store that Denny has artfully arranged. There’s a number of absurd slogans. I love my Bichon Frise. My kid is an honor roll student. Who rescued who? Coexist. Go green - go vegan. Athena reads them all as she climbs in the car. 

“We’re more pescatarian at this point,” Bobby says when he catches her eyeing the last one. “Buck catches a lot of fish.”

“You don’t strike me as a bumper sticker guy,” Athena smirks, climbing in the passenger seat and buckling up. 

He appreciates someone who uses their seat belt even post-apocalypse. It had been an argument with Buck until Chim made him watch a DVD copy of Zombieland. Not as funny of a film when it’s your reality. 

“That’s all Denny,” Bobby replies, chuckling. “We had to draw the line at someone’s NRA sticker.”

Athena laughs. “I’m guessing he didn’t understand?”

“No. We took the guy’s guns, left his agenda.” 

“Fair enough,” she chuckles.

“Where am I headed?” Bobby asks.

“Montalvo Drive,” Athena says. 

Fancy neighborhood. Damn. Not something she’d afford on a police salary. 

“You got it.”

A quiet falls over the car as Bobby drives. He knows very little about what happened between Athena Grant and her husband, Michael. A man Bobby has never met.  Hen knows. Karen knows. But they’ve never said. There wasn’t a reason to, after the outbreak. And before, it was a private matter. One day, they were called to an motorist accident, a different sergeant was at the scene who Bobby didn’t recognize, and Hen quietly told Bobby and Chim that Athena had taken the kids and gone to her parents. He found he missed seeing her at calls, as strange as that is to say. She has an energy about her, maybe. 

“What did your husband do?” Bobby asks finally, after five minutes, when they pull onto the street. 

“Architect,” Athena explains. 

Well that accounts for that. 

“He was - is, I don’t know - good at it, too.” Athena continues. “Successful.”

He’d have to be, to buy the home she ends up directing him to. Ocean view. Two stories. Big gates and a pool. Athena probably didn’t have to work at all. Let alone a dangerous, demanding job. Which just goes to say, she’s the kind of person that needs to. He understands that. 

Bobby parks outside the gate. He grabs the shotgun he brought with them as Athena checks the gate codelock. You never can be too sure. 

“The batteries in these things are supposed to last years,” Athena mutters as she punches in the code. 

The gate clicks open. 

“We can leave the security company a testimonial,” Bobby tells her. 

“Customer reviews are everything,” Athena agrees flatly. 

They slip through the creaking gate. It doesn’t have the power to automatically open. From there, it’s a short walk up to the front door of the home. The walkway is that flat, river stone look. It must once have been polished and beautiful. Now, it’s growing through with weeds and a little dusty. Athena sighs when she looks at it. 

[mousemilf]

i love when redditors use a throwaway account and then provide a a bunch of potentially identifying information anyway.

theyre like "throwaway because my friends are redditors and theyd kill me if they found this post. my friends "wenjamin" (24m) and "batherine" (22f) and i all work at a bespoke cheese shop owned by my stepdad, "jamuel" (41m) in a city on the west coast that ends in a vowel. "wenjamin" is 5'6" and bald and "batherine" has just graduated from a small liberal arts college with a degree in sports journalism. they both own bichon frises.

"EDIT: apparently wenjamin found this post and somehow he could tell it was about our situation. if i dont update within the next 12 hours will someone please contact the police."

[nancydrewwouldnever]

The Infamous Jenny Vulture Interview

So, I keep losing access to the infamous Jenny Vulture interview from March 2017 because of caps on access they have on their website. So, in case anyone else hits the same problem, I'm cut and pasting it here, to have an easier to access copy of it.

The Year of Living Publicly

Jenny Slate’s got two new films and a new home and, oh, by the way, she’s fresh off a breakup with Captain America. 

By Jasa Yuan

Published March 2017

Most pillows are just pillows, but for Jenny Slate, the floral-print puffs arrayed on her pristine white linen couch in her freshly rented apartment in L.A.’s Silver Lake are metaphors. For a bright future. For a new life. For freedom. The Obvious Child star and her bichon frise, Reggie, just moved into this sunny one-bedroom in February, and every time she looks at those pillows, she gets so excited because she remembers how she’d bought them while still married to editor-director Dean Fleischer-Camp, her husband for three years, but had to stow them away because she realized it felt like they were living in a box of tampons. Now she and Reggie don’t have to run their decorating decisions by anyone. “I’ve never lived on my own, because I really did go from one relationship to another my whole life, so I’ve never had a chance to go really girlie,” she says. “And I had my ex-husband over last night and he was like, ‘These flower pillows look great. But they’re just for you.’ I’m like, ‘Yeah! That’s right!’ I love them so much. I just love them for what they represent, which is that all my choices are for me.” She turns around. “I’m gonna pee really quick.”

The bathroom door doesn’t quite close — she’d warned me of this. “You can snoop around if you want,” she shouts. “It’s just a little mouse house. It’s fucking perfect for me.”

I have been in her presence for about two minutes. The first thing she did was offer to loan me a T-shirt because I mentioned I was hot. Slate used to do a stand-up routine about how her mom refused to sew her name into her shirt in elementary school, “because she was like, ‘You’re too friendly, and some stranger would just be like, Jenny! Come into the van!’ ”

There’s an obvious person missing so far from this tale of pillows versus patriarchy, but she’s not hiding anything; we just haven’t gotten to it yet. “When I moved in here, I’d been through my divorce and a breakup,” she says, returning from the bathroom and referring to the ten or so months she spent dating Chris Evans, best known as Captain America, and her much more famous co-star in Gifted an upcoming film about a family struggling with a young girl’s genius affinity for math. The internet went wild over their apples-and-oranges compatibility: a brash Jewish comedienne beloved for oversharing about her bodily functions on talk shows and voicing Marcel the Shell With Shoes On, a tiny stop-motion conch with a single eye and feet who talks about being so small he can hang-glide on a Dorito, in a series of YouTube shorts she made with Fleischer-Camp — and a world-famous Marvel superhero, who also happens to be a Massachusetts momma’s boy with one of the most insanely ripped bodies on the planet. “We used to talk about what kinds of animals we were,” says Slate. “Chris said it’s like I’m a chick riding on a St. Bernard’s head. We’re an odd match.”

Paparazzi tried to snap them, bloggers scrutinized their Instagrams, tabloids obsessively covered their one appearance together on a red carpet. Slate didn’t read the coverage, but it was extremely kind, with most articles praising Slate for taking a chance on Evans, or noting that his coolness factor had jumped several notches because of his proximity to her. Maybe this crazy thing could work out! There was something beautiful, in a year marked by division, to think of these two opposites finding common ground. He was 35; she was 34. They’d grown up half an hour from each other. They were both outspoken liberals. They’d said really adorable things about each other on Anna Faris’s podcast.

And then, a few weeks before I met Slate, news broke that it was over. In her life, though, she’d already spent several months dealing with that loss and having to find a place to live, crashing with friends in Venice Beach in January. “I watched You’ve Got Mail so many times, it was unbelievable,” she says. Was she weeping most of the time? “Yeah, I did it right.” Eventually, she found this new apartment and purged everything she owned except for a few clothes she loves, books, precious objects, and a velvet chair once belonging to her great-grandmother. “I was like, ‘You need all new things. You are a working woman. Maybe this is an indulgence, but just start over,’ ” she says. “It’s like, Fuck.”

The other night, she tells me, she was sitting at a bar by herself, reading a book about the Holocaust, and finally sent an SOS text to her friend Mae Whitman. “I was just like, ‘Can you please help me? I’m so lonely.’ And she came and we got shitbombed, and I woke up the next morning and saw my headphones on my neighbor’s yard. I have no idea how they ended up there.”

As Slate gives me the tour of her place, Reggie trails her every move. “He’s like a little soul mirror of me. We’re a lot the same,” she says. How so? “Needing closeness. Despair when left alone. But also he’s very excited to misbehave when left alone. So he doesn’t know what he wants.”

Ever since she was a pip-squeak at Camp Tapawingo in Sweden, Maine, Slate has known what she wanted to be: an actress, like Amy Irving or Gilda Radner or Madeline Kahn. That or “Jewish Felicity,” taking over Manhattan, like in the TV show. In the aughts, she came up in the alternative-stand-up-comedy scene in New York, where she garnered attention for a one-woman show as different characters eulogizing an eccentric millionaire, got cast on Saturday Night Live, and wasfired one season in after accidentally cursing on-air in her first sketch. That ego blow hurt a little less when she made the awards-circuit rounds for Obvious Child, a low-budget romantic comedy about two people navigating an abortion after a one-night stand, and she’s built a devoted fan base through her outrageous characters on the Kroll Show and Parks and Recreation, not to mention her great voice work with Marcel, Bob’s Burgers, The Secret Life of Pets (as an anxious Pomeranian), and Zootopia (as a villainous sheep). In 2012, she relocated from Brooklyn to L.A. Her relationship with Evans is easily the most Hollywood thing she’s ever done. She shows me a photo of her aura on her fridge, taken in New York’s Chinatown. There’s a thick concentration of “productive energy,” which is good, since she has a lot of work coming up, and a giant cloud of worry and overthinking, which seems to be dissipating. By the sink are potholders she made as a kid on a little loom and a drawing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg that Fleischer-Camp brought her as a housewarming gift. “We’re good friends. That’s why we got divorced,” says Slate. “If we didn’t get divorced, we wouldn’t be able to be friends and we wouldn’t be able to do our work. We had just grown apart, and we love each other. It wasn’t easy, but not bad.” She pauses. “No, it was bad. But not essentially bad.”

Her mother, a ceramicist, and father, a lauded poet, are still married; she wrote a book about her childhood home in Massachusetts with her dad this year. Her younger sister, Stacey, a mental-health counselor in Brooklyn, had come over on the previous weekend and helped her put up pictures. (Her elder sister, Abby, is a nurse-practitioner in Massachusetts, and Slate is convinced her middle-child need for attention is what nudged her toward showbiz.) Covering the top of her dresser are snapshots she hasn’t figured out what to do with, such as the one of her in a revealing tank top at Columbia University, where she went from high-school valedictorian to pothead almost instantly. “This is me when I was a slutty virgin,” she explains. “A virgin but trying to act like I knew what was going on.”

Somewhere beneath a pile of half-read books is her bedside table. She hates computers so much she doesn’t keep one in the house, and she often turns to books when scrolling through Twitter on her phone stresses her out, which it always does. Current favorites include The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, and Emma, a children’s book with Barbara Cooney illustrations that she bought on Etsy and loves so much she put it on display so she could see it when she wakes up. “It’s about an old woman who doesn’t love how she’s alone, and then learns to make herself not alone through art, and draws people into her life through art. It’s the fucking best thing.”

The instinct other young actresses have to keep every interesting thing about themselves under wraps — or the toughness that female comics often give off — wouldn’t be very useful in Slate’s case. Her brand, if you can call it that, is built on vulnerability, whether she’s revealing her innermost insecurities through an animated shell or telling Seth Meyers on TV that she was so stoned in college she accidentally signed up for an astronomy class thinking she’d learn about astrology. Not to mention that she and Evans met while playing love interests in a movie that is now coming out and that she needs to promote. That’s hard to get around.

“I don’t mind talking about him at all. He’s a lovely person,” she says. “I don’t know. It feels like such a huge thing. Last year was a giant, big year for my heart. I’ve never, ever thought to keep anything private because that’s not really what I’m like, and now I’m learning those things, and they’re weird, kind of demented lessons to learn.”

She didn’t set out to have a tabloid-­fodder romance. She’d fought hard for her part in Gifted, as a teacher who falls for Evans’s character, a working-class guy trying to give his prodigy niece (Mckenna Grace) a normal childhood. Slate’s part is not huge, but it’s a big studio picture. It got her in the room with director Marc Webb and Fox Searchlight. She liked the script, but more than that, “I was just like, ‘I want viability as an American film actress. I want to find my own seat at the main dinner table, because I want to do this forever, and I want to show that it doesn’t always have to be a bikini model opposite Captain America.’ ”

Evans and Slate met at her chemistry read — the audition in which it’s determined whether two romantic leads play well together — and they instantly got along. “I remember him saying to me, ‘You’re going to be one of my closest friends.’ I was just like, ‘Man, I fucking hope this isn’t a lie, because I’m going to be devastated if this guy isn’t my friend.’ ” The first time they went out to dinner, as co-workers getting to know each other, she remembers insisting they split the bill over Evans’s strenuous objections. “If you take away my preferences, you take away my freedom,” she says she told him. “Then I was like, Oh, man, is this dude going to be like, ‘Ugh, this bra-burner.’ Instead, he was like, ‘Tell me more.’ ” They drew from that friendship for their flirting on film, but the time when they jump into bed together in the movie felt as awkward as you hear all love scenes do. “It’s one of those scenes where you bust through a door making out. I’ve never done that in my life,” says Slate. “I remember apologizing to him after. I’m pretty sure I kneed him in the balls.”

Slate was in a weird space at the time. Her marriage was dissolving, and she was working only two or three days a week, and spending her days off wandering around Savannah’s many parks and doing yoga and writing that book, About the House, with her dad. (Which, incidentally, the publisher gave away free with any donation to any charity.) Every weekend, Evans would organize a game night for the cast and crew — usually something called “running charades,” which sounds like high-speed pantomime — that she begrudgingly went to, even though all she wanted to do was hang out on the porch and drink beer and smoke cigarettes. “At first I was like, ‘What a fucking nightmare,’ ” she says. “Chris is a different speed than me — I think he really did just jump out of a plane for an interview. And so when he was like, ‘Game nights,’ I was like, ‘This is annoying. This guy’s like a sports guy. He’s the kid that likes P.E.’ ” But finally his enthusiasm won her over. “I first really liked Chris as a person because he is so unpretentious,” she says. “He is a straight-up 35-year-old man who wants to play games. That’s it. I was like, ‘I’d better not discount this, because this is purity.’ ” It also helped that she’s so competitive she constantly won.

As they got to know each other, she learned he’s still close with people from his childhood, and his best friend is a woman. “What’s the same about us is not just that we’re from Massachusetts, which was such a delight, but Chris is truly one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, to the point where sometimes I would look at him and it would kind of break my heart,” she says. “He’s really vulnerable, and he’s really straightforward. He’s like primary colors. He has beautiful, big, strong emotions, and he’s really sure of them. It’s just wonderful to be around. His heart is probably golden-colored, if you could paint it.”

They didn’t fall for each other on set. “To be quite honest, I didn’t think I was his type,” she says. (Evans has dated Jessica Biel and Minka Kelly). “Eventually, when it was like, Oh, you have these feelings for me?, I was looking around like, Is this a prank? I mean, I understand why I think I’m beautiful, but if you’ve had a certain lifestyle and I’m a very, very different type of person — I don’t want to be an experiment.” Evans never made her feel that way, but it was hard to get past how so many people seemed to feel some ownership of him and view her as an interloper. “If you are a woman who really cares about her freedom, her rights, her sense of being an individual, it is confusing to go out with one of the most objectified people in the entire world,” she says. Especially when she’s aware that in Hollywood, she says, “I’m considered some sort of alternative option, even though I know I’m a majorly vibrant sexual being.” And especially when random ladies would come up to her at CVS, “being like, ‘Oh my God, is that Chris Evans? He’s so hot!’ You’re like, ‘How dare you? That’s my boyfriend. But yes, he’s so hot.’ ”

Every time Slate mentions Evans, it keeps coming back to the same thing: As much as they loved being with one another, she says, “we’re really, really different,” with different social circles and different lifestyles. Slate comes from a DIY comedy scene, and most of her friends are fellow comics and gay guys. “Chris is a very, very famous person,” she says. “For him to go to a restaurant is totally different than for me to go. I sit in my window and I say ‘Hi’ to people on the street. I have more freedom because I’m not Captain America. I’m mostly a cartoon.” She kept waiting for everything to feel normal, but it never did. “This is what I needed to do to feel normal. To be alone.”

That meant day-to-day they mostly stayed home, “which was really nice,” she says. But it was also one of the most anxious years of her life. She fretted over the “psychos” on the internet who turned her relationship with Evans into a pissing contest with Fleischer-Camp. And she struggled seeing the person she was in love with deal with the side-effects of fame. “The stress that I saw him be put under, I’ve never seen that before, and he handled that really gracefully,” she says. What she wasn’t taking into account was that he’s used to it. “He’s not stressed,” she says. “I was the person that was stressed.”

She’s also aware in hindsight that she hadn’t processed her separation before she got together with Evans. It wasn’t as scandalous as tabloid reports made it sound — as with any long-term relationship that splinters, they’d been on the rocks long before it was official. But, she says, “When Chris and I started dating, my husband and I had only been separated for a couple of months.” The divorce actually went through while she was at the Sundance Film Festival, after she and Evans broke up. “Even though we had an amicable divorce, I think that’s still something that you need to mourn. When you get separated from somebody that you actually care about, it is the destruction of a belief system. That is really, really sad.” Throughout all of it, the divorce, the new love, she says, “I just didn’t have the tools. And I didn’t think very hard about that, to be honest. I wanted to step into the light. Chris is a sunny, loving, really fun person, and I didn’t really understand why I should be prudent.”

Are she and Evans on good terms? “We’re not on bad terms, but we haven’t really seen each other, spoken a lot,” she says. “I think it’s probably best. I’d love to be his friend one day, but we threw down pretty hard. No regrets, though. Ever.”

Slate introduces me to the mascots of her new home, two cute mice figurines in jaunty outfits who look like they’re off to travel the world. “The way I feel now is I’ve stepped out of the woods and I’m a forest animal and I’m standing on the lawn,” she says. “And if anybody tried to approach me right now, they’re seeing a creature that’s just trying to figure out what the lawn is like. All I’m thinking about is the lawn. I’m not thinking about whether or not they are going to be a fun person to be on the lawn with, because I am just trying to be on the lawn.” And what or where is this lawn? “It’s just where I am,” she says. “I like the lawn. It’s filled with air, freedom, sunlight, and I’m alone.”

Slate wants to step out in the sunlight now, with a walk around the Silver Lake Reservoir. She bids good-bye to Reggie and turns on the TV to keep him company. “I watch Twin Peaks, but Reggie watches Frasier,” she says. That morning, while Slate was walking him, a woman got out of her car and stopped in her tracks. “She was like, ‘Oh, are you Jenny Slate?’ And I said, ‘I am.’ And she said something nice to me and I said, ‘Thank you so much. I need a lot of encouragement,’ which is usually what I say because it’s true.”

Dating Evans actually, weirdly, spurred her to double down on her career, because, she says, “I don’t want people to ask me more about my love life because of him than they ask me about my work,” and in order to ensure that, she’d have to produce a lot of work. She does stand-up in small clubs whenever possible and had two films at Sundance this January, just as the paperwork for her divorce came through: The Polka King, the true story of a polka-world Ponzi scheme, opposite Jack Black; and Landline, a story of two Jewish-Italian sisters and their parents having life and love crises in ’90s New York City, with Obvious Child creators Gillian Robespierre and Elisabeth Holm (out July 21). Soon she’ll be heading to Vancouver for a road-trip movie with Evan Rachel Wood, Alison Pill, and Cynthia Erivo, which is also Wood’s directorial debut. She and Fleischer-Camp are also at work on a feature-length Marcel the Shell movie, which she says will be “a character portrait much like Billy the Kid or Grey Gardens.”

Today, she’s leaning in to International Women’s Day by wearing a sundress covered in red roses and made by a company, Day Space Night, that’s run by women. She even canceled her one meeting with a man, an appearance on Snoop Dogg’s podcast, so she could have an entirely penis-free day. And she’s planning on ending the day by going with her girlfriends to a 90-minute seminar on fertility and reproductive rights.

A vocal supporter of Planned Parenthood, Slate credits Obvious Child not just for allowing her to prove she’s a legitimate actress, but also for turning her into a women’s rights activist. Back when she signed on, she says, “I still felt embarrassed of the word feminist.” Then one day discussing a costume fitting with co-star Gaby Hoffmann, Slate jokingly apologized for showing up with “crazy bush,” she says. “And Gaby did not take it as a joke. She was really serious and she looked at me and she was like, ‘I didn’t know we were supposed to apologize for that.’ I was like, Oh, I’m being a fool. I need to learn this shit right now.”

And now that she’s got a financial cushion from Zootopia and Secret Life of Pets, she can act on what she’s learned and say “no” more often. Specifically, she’s drawing the line at any movie that, she says, “makes it okay to laugh about things like women’s bodies after birth, like when women who’ve just had babies are referring to their vaginas as all ruined. I think it’s really rude for someone to disparage a vagina in the female body after it’s just fucking created and exploded a baby into our world. It makes me furious and I will not change my opinion on that.”

Also a no-go are any roles she’s offered that “seem like a weird stereotype version of me. Like Quirky Best Friend: ‘She doesn’t have a filter! She talks about poop!’ ” She thinks it’s worth it to hold out for roles with nuance, that will allow her to lean into humor and tragedy equally, and get to the heart of the human condition. In the meantime, she has plenty of personal-growth goals. She wants to learn Norwegian this summer. She wants to spend time with her family on Martha’s Vineyard. And she wants to find a farm she can help on so she can be around animals.

Eventually, she’ll try dating again, too. “I am inclined toward partnership,” she says. “I’m like a mallard, definitely looking for my other duck. But I’ve been in love in very strong ways enough times now that there are just some compromises maybe I won’t make.” He has to know who Gloria Steinem is, for one thing. She’s thinking maybe a scientist with a sense of humor. But definitely someone who’s sure enough in who he is to accept that she’s had a past without him. “Whoever is the next person is going to have to respect that I had a husband who I loved and this boyfriend who I loved so much, and I don’t want to have to act like they weren’t important.”

We’re back at the apartment and Slate is overjoyed that Reggie hasn’t peed on anything. Speaking of pasts, she’ll also soon be hitting the press tour for Gifted with Evans. “I feel pretty relaxed about it right now,” she says, sounding not entirely convincing. “That’s because I know Chris and he’s a very nice man. And we’ve gone into our separate lives. But that doesn’t also mean that I’m going to sleep well the night before, you know?”

First, she’s taking her parents to Cabo San Lucas to celebrate her 35th birthday. I suddenly have a horror flashback to a similar trip to Cabo I took years ago and warn her not to drink the water or brush her teeth with it, or to have ice or eat anything raw, or maybe to eat anything at all.

“Oh God,” she says, laughing, “having raging diarrhea is just a real on-brand nightmare for me.”

She thinks for a second. “But, you know, it would be such an icebreaker. If I showed up with, like, a spray tan and a blowout, he’d be like, ‘What happened to Jenny?’ But if I was able to say, ‘Aw, man, I have diarrhea,’ he’d be like, ‘It’s you. I remember you.’ ”

*This article appears in the March 20, 2017, issue of New York Magazine.

[jidamystery]

RegularShow guys as dogs lol

Watch me autistically combine what I currently like(Regular Show) with other stuff I like(Searching up Animal species/breeds) lol ⚠️Info: Those numbers are the average shoulder height of the dog breeds(mostly males') that I researched/searched up and I made these for fun or for my future references of my choosing/view on the characters as dogs if I wanna draw them, feel free to share yours if you guys have your own! 👀

Mordecai: - German Shepherd(60–65cm [24–26 in]) - He really has that feel

Rigby: - Tanuki[Common Raccoon dog](38-51 cm [15-20 in]) - Raccoons are different family species(Procyonidae), so a near similar species for the choosing due it's in Canidae family [make him comically runt lol]

Benson: - Poodle(Mid size; 35–45 cm [14–18 in]) - Versatile working dog breed, that ppl put them in weird color and the Lion/Continental-cut looks suits him - Shiba Inu(35 to 43 cm [14 to 17 in]) - Cat-like dog breed, Squishy round face and, "The Shiba Inu is using the scream to make sure you can hear this communication LOUD and CLEAR."

Pops: - Bichon Frise(23–28 cm [9–11 in]) or Poochon[Poodle x Bichon Frise hybrid] - Perfect breed, wished it wasn't small tho[make him comically large; see Poochon]

Skips: - Great Pyrenees(70–80 cm [28–31 in])- Big, all-white, mountain working dog - Wolfdog mix(Large) - Mysterious and 'man's best friend' intertwined. Why not?

MuscleMan: - Bulldog(31–40 cm [12–15 in]) - "His tenacity and resolve mean that it's difficult to change his mind once he decides to do something."

Hi5 Ghost: - West Highland White Terrier(25–30 cm[9-11 in]) - "Alert and active, Westies exhibit traits of a plucky and self-reliant ratting terrier."

Thomas: - East(55-66 cm [22-26 in]) / West Siberian Laika (56–61 cm[22–24 in])- Native to [Northern] Russia doggos

---Added Gene for Geneson ppl cuz ily---

Gene: - Alaskan Malamute(61–66 cm [24-25 in]) - "An immensely strong, heavy-duty worker of spitz type, the Alaskan Malamute is an affectionate, loyal, and playful but dignified dog." - Akita Inu(64–71 cm [25–28 in]) - "They're deliberate, strong-willed dogs who make loyal companions"

[finniestoncrane]

finnie can i please get a puppyboy mark chibi. a little one that i can keep in my purse like a shih tzu or perhaps a bichon frise. thank you (wagging tail

he strikes me as more of a spicy little mongrel BUT one that would be more than happy to hop into your purse and live the life of luxury 💚

[thistransient]

It's that time again...yes, the 90 days is nigh.

In celebration of choosing a completely new destination that I've been wanting to visit for years (but never came to pass largely on account of covid), I went for a haircut. After much research as to where might be able to handle curly foreigner hair properly this time, inevitably I went again to a random salon in a side street near home. A female hairdresser looked at me like I was an alien, and then passed me off to a guy who faithfully obeyed my request not to cut it after he blow dried it. This did not prevent me from looking like a bichon frise post-blow dry anyways. He was blissfully silent during the whole process (I hate having to chit chat while captive) and only asked briefly at the end why I could speak Chinese. Later I wondered if his silence was actually an unspoken commentary on my style choices. I had asked him to leave me a rat tail, but we were both too ambitious on the thickness, and when I looked in the mirror at home I realised I had perhaps the most resplendent mullet to exist outside Australia. Thankfully sleeping on it wet flattened everything back into something more like the shape I'd originally envisioned (which was simply what my hair looked like last winter).

I had the smoothest, shortest check-in/security/immigration e-gate experience at Taoyuan ever, and discovered my memories of a 7-11 somewhere near the gates was false, or at least wrongly attributed. At least I have a banana, and something that claims to be

I think I'll survive.