#math t shirt printing

[customprinting]

Guide to the Best Colors You Should Use on Custom Shirts

Designing bulk custom t shirts is a fun process! Personalized shirts are an excellent way to unify people, create memories and show off your team or company pride. But before you can experience all that, you have to settle on an amazing design.

The sky's the limit when it comes to personalization. It's up to you to design what graphics and text you use.

Beyond that, you also need to select the right colors. We have you covered if you're struggling to settle on a palette. Here are a few tips on choosing the right colors for your custom shirt order.

Limit Your Palette

Throwing every color under the rainbow in a custom design is tempting. However, it's best to keep things simple.

Adding too many colors to your design can create a messy look that's torture on the eyes. You want your shirts to stand out for the right reasons. They need to be sleek, stylish and creative.

Generally, incorporating one to three colors is the best approach. A limited palette looks better and will make ordering bulk custom t shirts much more affordable.

Stick to Existing Aesthetics

Do you already have branding? If so, stick to the colors you already use.

Maintaining color consistency across your branding can make a big difference. This tip applies to more than businesses. Sports teams can choose official school or team colors. Meanwhile, non-profits can turn to their logos for color inspiration.

Consider Color Theory

Color theory is more powerful than most realize. Certain colors can evoke specific emotions. It's a subtle science that leaves a lasting impression. Use it to your advantage.

For example, you can incorporate red into your design to stand out and create a sense of urgency. Alternatively, using green evokes feelings of nature and tranquility. Meanwhile, blue is all about security and trust.

Consider what you want your shirt to do and what message you want to send.

You can also use the color wheel for inspiration. Use it to find high-contrast or complementary colors that will evoke the mood you're after while creating a visually pleasing design.

Read a similar article about personalized t shirts here at this page.

[planetaryartist]

New sale happening now on Redbubble!

Select shirts are $16.07 when you buy any 3+

Check out my shop here :)

[4pfsukuna]

Friday night N. Kento

Debrief: It takes a special kind of woman to get the calm reserved nanami kento acting slightly feral.

Warning: this was suppose to be soft fluff yet here we have smut, the fluff is there if you squint… and imagine.

You were no stranger to Nanami's music choice, jazz. He would listen to it to start his day and after a long day of overtime. But he secretly loved the oldies as well so you make sure when he strolls in Friday evening at 6:46pm as he does every time you meet him at the door dark curls falling from the bun you placed it in until your hair appointment tomorrow.

Oldies playing.

“Hi ken” you greet standing on your tiptoes capturing his lips in a soft kiss as you loosen his tie. 

“Mmm hello sweetheart” he purrs, trying to steal a longer kiss, his guard weakening enough for you to steal his briefcase from his grasp. He takes you in, dressed in one of his t-shirts and by the way your breast and ass is jiggling he knows you're completely bare under. His brows furrowed though when he notices your holding the animal print tie he was wearing. Looking down he chuckles seeing you had removed it off of him AND loosened the top three buttons of his navy blue shirt.  

He listens to you ramble about your day as he follows you to his study, placing the briefcase on his desk and clicking it open replacing the worn down pens and pencils. His brows furrow when you pick up a cup of whiskey with ice and hand it to him.

Routine, everything was so routine. He smiled once you placed the napkin on the desktop after watching him glance for somewhere to set it. You had everything thought out down to a napkin. To be loved is to be known and you knew him oh so well from the things he needed replaced in his briefcase, to how he unbuttoned his shirt after work down to the minute he arrived home.

Oh he was bricked up and he was trying so hard to listen through the haze but your soft lips are the only thing he can focus on. He leans in, cutting you off, pressing his lips against yours as he pulls you in close.

Setting you on top of his large cherry wood desk as he takes a seat in his seat urging you to continue. Theres a few scattered papers but other than that theres not a single thing out of place. He just can’t focus as he finishes his cup grinning lazily when you pour a second cup. Not a full one just half…just like he always does.

“—girl math. Isn’t that great love” and his heart flutters at the pet name you knew exactly how to pull his heart strings. Twirling the cup in his hand he lets his other hand that’s resting on the arm of the chair reach out for you.

He hisses when your foot presses into his crotch not in pain oh far from it, you knew just how to rile him up and you did it so…subtly. 

“Aht aht tell me about work first kento” and he leans back in the chair watching you with the same smirk you had on your face plastered on his. He’ll play your game.

“Alright sweetheart,” he begins taking a sip of his drink pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose before his hand wraps around your calf not removing the pressure. 

As he begins giving you the small little details of his day his hand glides firmly up and down your calf running over the golden anklet that matches his favorite cufflinks.

“Did you like the little note I left on your lunch?” You grin tilting your head to the side, more of your curls spilling from its bun.

“Loved it” and you almost missed the way he's inched closer to your thick brown thighs but the closer he gets the more his smile widens. 

“I can show you just how much” his warm honey voice speaks as he places the first kiss of the night on your thighs he goes to place a second and a third getting closer to the hem of the shirt when your fingers tangle in his hair pulling his head up. He makes a noise not of pain but frustration, the ever patient man losing his cool demeanor when it comes to you.

“Darlin— oh” and you're gently taking his glasses off, opening the engraved glasses case that sits on his desk, placing them inside and gently closing it back with a singular finger.

Earlier at work he heard one of the interns, his favorite one actually, itadori talking about something he seen on twitter where people were talking about the nerdiest thing theyve done.

And this? 

This just might take the cake for the nerdiest thing he's ever gotten hard over but he sees the mischief in your eyes, knows that twitch of your lips so when you jump down off his desk talking about some damn bread recipe you baked and want him to try he nearly loses it. 

One because he fucking loved bread, knew how much time went into baking it and the fact that you did it for him? Went into the second reason he nearly loses it. He was rock hard, tip leaking and fucking needed you so bad right now.

So when he has you on your back on his desk legs wrapped around his head feasting on the wet heaven between your legs ignoring the way you try to push him off. The pleasure was too much and while he may be a gentleman any other time right now he was eating your pussy for his pleasure. It was the sloppiest he has ever done it ignoring your orgasm and licking you into your next. 

“K-ken” you moan out, back arching off the desk as he sucks on that bundle of nerves, a finger slipping in your core and curling deliciously against your g spot. He starts a steady pace that has your mind turning to mush before adding a second finger. He didn’t care about that damn bread he wouldn’t be able  to eat it anyway with the way he was about to eat your pussy until his jaw locked up.

“I love you” he moans into you pushing his fingers further and a bit rougher into you loving the way you tighten around them. Your hips rock back as your moans get louder and more high pitched which is music to his ears as he pins your hips down to the desk.

“Thank you my love” he praises before angling his fingers up with a particular curl that has you squirting wetting up the front of his shirt, chin and mouth lower half going limp as you try to catch your breath.

Through a lidded gaze you watch as he eyes you peeling off his shirt revealing nothing but muscle and a prominent 6 pack that dipped into his pants covering that perfect v line of his.

Just when he thinks his evening couldn’t get any better you push him back down to his chair climbing into his lap he makes quick work of shimmying down his pants to his ankles. As you kiss down his neck leaving little purple marks, you suck perfect little hickeys thatll be hidden directly under the collar line of his button ups only there for you two to know of.

He cups your face pulling your lips to his letting you taste yourself on his lips along with the taste of whiskey as his tongue tangles with yours. Playfully biting his lip he groans into your mouth, his dick twitching under you reminding you why you were in his lap in the first place.

Through the kisses you reach down grabbing his thick length, swiping your thumb over the tip as you do and positioning it right at your core before sinking down the two of you releasing moans simultaneously.

“H-hold on sweetheart” he stutters, grabbing your hips not prepared for your soaking wet and warm pussy to welcome him like this. Squeezing your core as you twist your hips his buck up into your earning another giggle.

“Oh, My love, you deserve…Fuck… deserve all good” he slurs purely rambling as you raise your hips and slam back down into his lap earning a loud moan from both of you. Raising your hips to repeat the motion except a lot smoother your hands find his shoulders nails sinking in when his hips meet yours.

The loud squelching music to his ears, you were so obscenely wet the sounds were so lewd and your moans… the way you moaned his name was sooo fucking sexy.

Grabbing your hips he begins grinding you on his length watching the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite so hard on your bottom lip to hold in those moans. His grunts become more obvious to you and you’re made just aware of how lost he was becoming in you.

“Soooo good….sooo mmpphh tight” he nearly whimpers as your jaw drops the minute his thumb finds your clit again.

“I am so in love with you” he admits, large hands spreading across your back and hips pulling you closer, your breast bouncing up against him. For a second you think he’s babbling just pussy drunk until he leans his forehead against yours forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You are so damn perfect for me,marry me” he moans… dare you say begs angling his hips up his curved tip

“Ken ken ken ken k—nngghhhh” you nearly scream his name, your head falling into his shoulder as you feel the pressure building up in your belly. He was close too— all of your faces, your pretty moans hell even the way you cried his name had him on the edge. When he starts losing rhythm his grunts sounding needy and little curses begin to slip out you know he's close. 

“Cum for me baby” he grunts in your ear snapping his hips into yours groaning when the wetness gushes out of you he releases right after the creamy white building around the base of his dick a mix of the two of you as he keeps pumping until you’re both sensitive.

Your lips find his once more leaving long passionate kisses as if you two were trying to engrave your taste in another. He releases a contempt sigh, smiling down at you when you pull back slightly.

“Were already engaged,ken” you smile full of bliss and he tilts his head in confusion as you hold up your hand the rock sitting on your finger beaming when it catches the reflection of the light.

The look of confusion lets you know that he has no idea that he asked you to marry him again and you adjust yourself in his lap a loud squelching sound rings out and his thigh twitches.

“A minute ago, when you were balls deep,” you tease watching as his cheeks go red amusing you, “you were telling me how perfect i am and that we should get married” you yawn your body growing weak. He pretends to think before shaking his head watching your amused expression.

“You give me more reasons every day to wanna marry you” he sweet talks pulling you so your head is on his chest, the smile growing on your face. He was perfect.    

An hour later you’re still perched in his lap, leaning down slightly to place a kiss on your temple every few minutes skimming over the newspaper. His pants have been discarded along with his shoes and his shirt is hanging loosely on your body as your head rests against his chest soothed by the sound of the 80’s r&b music.

You knew he was truly satisfied when you saw his foot that was kicked up on his desk, swaying to the beat of the song and his occasional sighs of contempt as your nails gently raked over his spine. 

He flips to the next page of the newspaper murmuring about a new restaurant in town that was opening soon before setting the cigar down in the ashtray you'd made in a pottery class. Along with a plate that the bread you baked for him sat on a few slices cut a cup of cinnamon butter next to it.

Relaxed Nanami kento was a sight to see, cigar between his lips, his blonde hair tousled and unslicked but that was more so your doing Its when he begins humming along that you know he's truly relaxed…and that he loves listening to oldies after a long day of overtime.

[bananaagos]

‎♡₊˚ 𝗕𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗿. . . ・₊✧

𐙚 ─── ꒰ 𝘚𝘍𝘞. 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘱𝘰𝘷, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘕𝘰 𝘛𝘞. ꒱ ‧₊˚

It felt like hours.

You, a fellow student, had recently become friends with Summer Sanchez—a girl from the type of crowd you never quite clicked with. Being the good, dependable person you were, you figured the friendship would last about as long as it took her to copy a few homework assignments. But six months later, you were still hanging out, and now you found yourself in her bedroom at one of those dreaded "girly" sleepovers. Not your scene.

Staring up at the ceiling, you waited for something—anything—to happen. But nothing did. Just the steady sound of Summer's loud, rhythmic snores filling the room like a broken engine. Giving up, you sighed and rolled out of the makeshift bed on the floor, still in your 'pajamas,' which was just a band T-shirt, bunny slippers, and no pants. You didn’t even bother putting them on as you tiptoed to the door, the creak of the old wood matching the mood. Downstairs called to you—anything was better than listening to Summer snore.

It was 3 AM, the house blanketed in a stillness that felt almost eerie as you crept down the stairs. The dim living room was lit only by the glow of the TV, casting odd shadows against the walls. Empty bottles and cans littered the little table—Rick’s doing, no doubt. You knew he drank, but seeing this much booze was unsettling. The mess practically screamed his name.

Rick Sanchez, Summer’s grandpa. He was cool, in his way. Helped you out with math once or twice and didn’t seem to mind you being around. The thing was, when he got drunk and lonely, he was clingy. And clingy Rick was a whole different animal.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of heavy, stumbling footsteps—familiar, disjointed. You groaned internally. Here he came, Rick, in all his drunken glory. His disheveled figure loomed in the doorway, swaying slightly, flask in hand. His lab coat was crumpled and stained, and his eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were now hazy with alcohol. He barely managed to stand upright.

“Ki-kid… there ya are…” he slurred, stumbling toward you. He reeked of booze, his steps uneven, like he was puppeteered by someone as drunk as he was. His grin was crooked, an attempt at his usual smirk, but tonight he was just a wreck. Whatever genius lurked behind those glazed eyes was buried deep under layers of alcohol.

He collapsed onto the couch next to you, the flask clinking against the armrest as he sighed heavily. The smell of whiskey hit you full force, making your nose twitch.

“Y-you like the sh—show? Installed the antenna… ‘s called interdimensional TV…” Rick pointed weakly at the screen, where an ad featuring a man with ants crawling out of his eyes played. You raised an eyebrow, half watching the absurdity unfold on TV. For Rick’s sake, you nodded.

"Of course you do, princess," he muttered, trying to smile through his drunken haze. "Y—you know how to ap—preciate my work." His hand reached out, ruffling your hair awkwardly. It was clear he was seeking something—approval, connection, maybe just someone to sit with him while he drowned in his misery. And honestly, as uncomfortable as it made you, you didn’t mind giving him that.

You shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of your lack of pants, pressing your thighs together, trying not to look too stiff. But Rick, lost in his own world, didn’t seem to notice. He kept mumbling about the show, about how it “sucked” and how he could do “so much better.” His bleary eyes landed on the print on your band shirt, his finger raising as he poked the logo clumsily, inadvertently pushing against your chest.

“Hey! I—BURP—I know that band.” he slurred, his finger lingering too long before he pulled it away, embarrassed. “I—I had a band once… we—we were the coolest… I mean, I still am, right?” Rick leaned in closer, his drunken smirk widening as he stared at you, clearly expecting some praise. You rolled your eyes and looked away, not willing to feed his ego tonight.

Rick didn’t take the dismissal lightly. “Oooh, I’m so—so sorry!” he mock-whined, raising his arms dramatically. “Didn’t know I was talkin’ to miss ‘I roll my eyes 'cause I’m soooo cool’ instead of my—my BURP—precious girl.”

Before you could react, Rick’s lanky arms wrapped around you, and in a surprising burst of energy, he started tickling you. His fingers poked and prodded at your sides, sending you into fits of helpless giggles.

“Don’t even think you’re gettin’ away with bein’ all bratty with me,” he teased, his fingers dancing across your stomach. You squirmed, trying to escape, but his movements were quick, despite his drunken state. “I repeat—BURP—I’m the coolest, don’t I? Huh?!”

As his hands found their way under your shirt, tickling your ribs, your laughter turned breathless, tears pricking your eyes. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Rick’s eyes softened. He stopped, his hands now resting on your bare skin, fingertips tracing light circles absentmindedly. He seemed to realize just how close the two of you were, how you looked flushed, your hair a mess, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath.

For a moment, Rick’s expression changed. His eyes, usually half-lidded in a lazy smirk, softened, his face tinged with something almost… tender. His voice was low when he spoke again, and the words came out with a sincerity that felt foreign coming from him.

“So pretty. . .” he mumbled, as if the words were strange in his mouth, it felt right. His arms slid around your waist as he pulled you closer, resting your head on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, hear his breaths slowly evening out. The warmth from your body seeped into his, the alcohol-induced haze seemingly lifting just a little.

You didn’t say anything. You just lay there, enveloped by him, the chaos of the night slowing to a gentle calm as his hold loosened, his eyelids drooping until he drifted off to sleep.

And then you knew, this night wasn't really a waste.

SO!!!!!!!! this is the second time i write a 'long' fic, so please excuse me if i have grammar/spelling errors here, hope you enjoyed (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[yeostars]

I Hate You, I Love You.

-kang yeosang<3

○ pairing- yeosang x reader ○ genre- academic rivals to lovers! early relationship scenario, basically a snippet into the times when two rivals get into a romantic relationship after finally confessing their undying love to eo (ahem, they still hate eo too, though) ○ warnings- none? slight 18+ scenes but they don't actually do IT haha ○ synopsis- sooo this one is the epilogue for my rivals to lovers yeo fic (down bad, but at what cost?) . basically this one is a study session turned into a pillow fight turned into an intense makeout session ;) i've tried my best to write this one even better than the actual long fic so i really hope y'all enjoy reading this. likes, reblogs, comments and follows are always immensely appreciated <3

"Huh, to be honest, your room isn't half bad. Really." You admit, peering at every little thing your eyes land upon, in this giant, spacious room.

"If that was meant to be a compliment, thanks." Yeosang snorted, right behind you, watching you take everything in.

This was your very first time visiting your boyfriend's slash academic rival's room. Infact, it was your first time coming to his house itself. Saying that you were nervous was an understatement, but somehow you seemed to be relaxing in yeosang's presence by now.

The fact that no one except the both of you were present in his house right now, also relaxed you quite a lot. Yeosang's parents had gone shopping and his elder sister was hanging out with her friends. Yeosang, being the smartass he is, grabbed this perfect oppurtunity and ideal day to invite you over, to get your assignments done.

Yeah. to get those damn assignments done. nothing else, probably, right...? although you wished you were lying, as you thought about how amazing it would be, to make out with yeosang on his bed.....

It had been roughly a month since the both of you started dating now, and it seemed like neither of you wanted to rush things. But if either you or yeosang made the first move, the latter would passionately reciprocate it.

"I mean it, your room is much more spacious than i imagined it to be. And also, so clean.... bet it isn't normally this clean." You said, chuckling, as your hand gently patted and felt the soft matress bed sheets.

"Well, not gonna lie, i did clean it up cuz you were gonna come over, You should be grateful." He joked, carefully picking up your bag and placed it on one of the extra chairs around his study table.

"Should i touch your feet or something? Geez, thanks for cleaning your room, i guess." You let out, suddenly stopping in your tracks to stare at the mini posters stuck at the wall.

Yeosang noticed you staring at those posters at the wall and stood right besides you. Good thing it wasn't something embarassing- or else he would've torn all those posters than bear all the teasing from you.

"Seriously, yeo? Math symbols, geometry shapes, equations and formulas..... you know what, i am not even surprised, you math freak." You grinned, turning to look him directly in the eye.

"So what? I am working to be the best mathematician of the next century, Gotta make sure to look like one." He replied, sounding quite proud.

"Might as well wear printed t-shirts with mathematical formulas all over it, My anti-math ass could never. I might throw up if i stare at those posters again." You said, giving those posters one last glance.

"You and your dramatic ass, y/n.....well, take a seat, if you're done exploring, and lets get these assignments done." Yeosang murmured, taking hold of his own bag, as he bought it towards his huge study table.

You sat at the chair farthest to the window, where sunrays seemed to be shining beautifully at the ends of the study table. Yeosang sat right besides you, eliminating the third chair and reduced any distance present between the both of you.

You ignored your heart beating loudly in your chest, quietly placed your books and pens on the table, and peered at yeosang doing the same.

"Well then, lets get started? As we promised each other, you're gonna help me if i have any difficulty in maths and I'm gonna do the same for you in science. Hope that offer still stands." You said, not quite maintaining eye contact with him, choosing to stare at those books in front of you instead.

"Hmm, alright. Lets get this done as quickly as possible." Yeosang said, already getting started with his work.

Around 40 minutes passed, the both of you working in peaceful silence, and even if you asked each other about a certain question or concept, the atmosphere between the both of you was still, peaceful. calm. not chaotic- and that's where is started to feel slightly...wrong? This had to be the longest time you've both spent in each other's presence without teasing the hell out of each other or bickering.

You couldn't help but steal quick glances towards yeosang's direction, admiring his concentrated self, how unbelievably hot he looked even when he was literally just, studying. When he furrowed his eyebrows cuz he probably didn't understand something, or when he mindlessly spun his pen as he read content, you wondered how you even managed to have a boyfriend as attractive as him.

You stretched your arms quickly, leaning back toward the chair, stifling a yawn. You were quite tired now, but you still had one topic left. You glanced at yeosang, and he looked quite tired himself, too.

And besides, things felt too boring, between the both of you, right now. You wanted to spice things up a bit, get him to kiss you or something.... but how?

"I'm taking a quick break." You announced, getting up from your chair, heading towards the giant bed, sitting comfortably at the edge.

Yeosang spun his chair to face you, and just blankly stared at you as you scrolled through something on your phone.

"What, tired already?" He asked, having the audacity to ask you this while looking much more exhausted than you.

"You look like you're about to pass out, right now. Take a break along with me." This wasn't a request, it was an order. You wanted both of you to feel fresh and relaxed before you started working on the final topic to finish your assignments.

Yeosang didn't argue further, simply closed his books and joined you, on his bed. He mirrored your position, sitting quite distant from you, but you could still feel his feet brushing yours..

You sat there, feeling extra comfortable because of the giant, soft pillows behind you. Yeosang suddenly grabbed one of those pillows behind you and you glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow and met his gaze, which looked quite mischievous and playful...typical yeosang.

"Ever been in a pillow fight?" Yeosang asked, pulling the pillow close to his chest.

"Umm....no? I might have once, with Jia, though." You replied, registering the fact that he probably asked you out on a pillow fight. you, his girlfriend, into a pillow fight.

at such moments, you realised how yeosang was truly, yeosang. no one could ever be like him..

"Then accept this challenge. Whoever wins gets their favourite snack as a reward." Yeosang snickered, coming closer to you.

"Oh, ITS ON. Y-" You almost screamed, and you didn't even get to finish your sentence as Yeosang approached you and hit his pillow skillfully at your arm. You groaned, gaining your consciousness quickly and attacked him with another pillow, aimed right at his head.

Here you were, the both of you fighting each other in an impromptu pillow fight, laughing, giggling and screaming like little kids. Just when you thought you couldn't fall deeper for yeosang than you already were, you were proved wrong when you met his soft and playful gaze, him smiling at you, the reason for his laughter being you. You wished this moment could last forever..

Your bodies brushed again each other's quite often, but the both of you tried to ignore that fact, too caught up in adrenaline and playfully fighting each other.

With a well-aimed swing, you managed to knock the pillow out of Yeosang's hands, grinning proudly. "Gotcha!"

Before you even knew it, yeosang lunged forward and tackled you gently onto the bed. You both landed in a heap of tangled limbs and pillows, your breath hitching as you realised that you were pinned beneath him onto the bed...

For a moment, everything stilled. The air, filled with laughter and giggles and screams just a minute ago, was now intense, and all that could be heard was your breaths.

You gazed into each other's eyes, your faces mere inches apart, You could feel yeosang's warm breath forming goosebumps on your skin. Every single cell in your body seemed to be aware of your current position, you could feel yeosang's strong arms wrapped against your sides, as if you had no choice to run away,,,

Yeosang's eyes softened, his playful smirk replaced by something more tender. "Y/N...." He trailed off, not bothering to complete his sentence. Just hearing your name from his lips, him being so damn close to you, you could've sworn your heart was going to beat right out of your chest.

Your hand, which had been gripping a pillow, slowly lifted up to touch his shoulders, to touch those strong biceps... that got you thinking just how buff your boyfriend was.

He leaned down, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away, his eyes never leaving yours. But of course, you didn't. Why would you? You were waiting since ages for this to happen..

You lifted your head slightly, closing the distance between you. Your lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and electrifying, a perfect blend of softness and urgency.

Until, it was no longer soft, no longer sweet- just mere urgency, passion and roughness arising, as yeosang's palms reached forward to cup your face and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

You pulled apart just for a second, you asking him hurridely if the door was locked (as much as you loved kissing yeosang, you were not prepared for the utter embarrasment if his parents walked in.) and he just hummed in reply, wasting no time and bought your lips to his again.

The makeout session seemed to be unending, and you weren't complaining in he slightest. The next second you broke the kiss to catch some freaking air, you could feel yeosang's gaze strongly fixated on you, and you couldn't quite comprehend what he was feeling.

"God, you're so hot." He said, in such a low voice, you would have almos missed it if you weren't so damn close to him.

"What?" You asked, blushing, although you had clearly heard him. You took in the sight of his cheeks heating up so furiously that your shyness was now replaced with a proud smirk.

"Say it again. I didn't quite hear you." You said, grinning.

"H-hell no. You didn't hear anything." He said, now tearing his gaze off you, just to be met by your smirk yet again as you grabbed his chin softly to make direct eye contact.

"What, THE kang yeosang getting all giddy and shy because of me? Yeo, if you don't say that again, i WILL tease you about it for the rest of your life-"

"I hate you. Y-you're so hot." He said, and before you could say anything, he quickly sealed his lips with yours, once again. You hummed in pleasure as his thumbs lightly massaged your cheeks, and you felt so damn good in this moment, you wouldn't dare to stop.

That was, unless you had to, to catch your breaths once again.

"Have you kissed someone before, um, me?" You asked, looking quite shy now. He blinked, not believing that this was the kind of question you'd ask him in the middle of a makeout session.

"I did. What about you?" He asked, shrugging, his eyes curious for your answer to the same.

Something familiar settled into your stomach. Bitterness. Jealousy. That would explain how yeosang kissed you so damn well. He was experienced, someone had already felt those wicked, soft, irrestible lips before. And of course, they did. Have you looked at the guy? It would be impossible to believe that he hadn't dated before.

"Y/N?" He asked softly, after noticing that you didn't reply quickly.

"Uhh...well, you're my first kiss." You said, not adding anything further. Yeosang seemed way too shocked at that, smirking soon after.

"Are you being serious? You're telling me, your arch nemesis, your rival, the person you quite literally hate, ME, i'm your first kiss? Insane, if you ask m-" He didn't get to complete his sentence this time, as you bought your lips to his, again. and again. and again- until the both of you were completely satisfied- which you weren't, not just yet. You kissed in perfect sync, perfect harmony- you tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your tongues hungrily meeting each others, the unending bites and teasing making you even more desperate for each other.

You opened your eyes to be met with a pleasant, calm, flushed yeosang. His plush lips were now red and glossy and slightly bruised because of you biting them so many times (he did too, so that was only fair) and he just, looked so fucking pretty, so handsome, so ethereal. and you were just so damn lucky.

"You are my first kiss too, by the way." He confessed, now looking quite serious. You nearly choked on air.

"WHAT?? You lied to me before...?" You asked in disbelief.

"Yea, i just wanted to witness you being jealous. You are so cute, the way you were pouting when i said that, i wanted to bite you." He said, caressing your cheek softly.

"Shut up. I hate you." You let out, pouting yet again and yeosang looked at you with such endearment and adoration, one would have never thought that you used to be at each others throats.

"Nah, you love me." He chuckled, intertwining his fingers with yours. You smiled softly.

"That, maybe i do."

[moonblossom7]

(Aged up) Percabeth as your parents headcanons

Genre:fluff/comfort

-reader is adopted

-gender neutral reader

A/N: this is rlly kinda stupid but it's cute I think.

🍼 Toddler years(~1-4)

- Percy is great with kids, obviously, but he's rlly worried that you'd get into something while his back was turned so he's CONSTANTLY watching you. Can't get away with anything.

-stay at home dad Percy is so real, actually

- Annabeth likes reading you bedtime stories, even though she struggles with it

- they're both of the opinion that Disney has gone down hill, but they take you to the cinema every time a new movie comes out.

- Annabeth gets stressed out a lot about whether or not they make you feel like you belong, since she knows how much it sucks to feel alone within your own family, and she thinks it's gotta be even worse since you're adopted (that worry never really went away)

-  Percy made "monster spray" for when you're scared of the dark.

🖍️ Little kid (5-8)

- Annabeth takes you on museum trips a lot. It's important for kids to experience things, and of course she has to pick something the both of you like

- Percy cried like an actual baby when you lost your first tooth. He didn't expect something like that to effect him, but how could it not? You're growing up and it's happening a lot faster than he thought it would.

- loyal customers at your imaginary restaurant. (Yk those play kitchens with the plastic food? Those.)

- very emotional about the little art projects you bring home from school. They can rarely bring themselves to throw any away,so they have a little tote to keep them in when the fridge gets too crowded.

-speaking of school, you are very much THAT kid. The one with the character pen cases and the sparkly folders and notebooks with that Lisa Frank dolphin on them. (I WANTED ONE SO BAD!!) Percy and Annabeth decided you could only have the absolute best stuff.

- around this time they explain the whole gods, monsters, demigods thing. You had already met Grover and Tyson and some of your parents' demigod friends,so you knew some of it, but up till now they'd never fully explained.

🎮big kid (9-12)

-at this point, Percy is officially banned from helping you with homework. He's one of those "math is math, that's still the right answer!" dads, so when you got to the age where you had to learn and use different methods he noped out. Annabeth takes over from that point.

- if you get into sports, obviously they're your biggest fans. They show up to every game, they give your friends a ride home from practice, they probably wear those cringey T-shirts with shit like "soccer mom/dad" printed across the front in mismatched fonts. Percy's probably even an assistant coach. (Bonus for my softball girlies: Annabeth is totally the type to give you cool braids with the team colors weaved in)

- Again Percy cried over you loosing teeth. But this is your last baby tooth! You aren't little at all anymore! (It's even worse for him if you don't believe in the tooth fairy anymore by then)

- alas,the time has come. The last Christmas you believe in Santa. You told them they didn't have to put the elf up that year, that's how they found out. It caught Annabeth totally off guard. She'd tried to be very sneaky and very clever about maintaining the Christmas magic.

- you're having a Minecraft phase rn(everyone does at this point, don't fight it) and Annabeth is THRILLED. she doesn't play many video games, but she does like Minecraft and Animal Crossing,so she was so excited to have that in common with you. She gets especially excited about all the houses you build even though they're really basic at first.

📱Teen (13-19)

-went very all out on your 13th,16th, and 18th birthday. So much food, and confetti and probably invited all of their friends on top of everyone you invited. (For my summer birthday friends: paid for you and your friends to go to the water park for at least one of those,on top of everything else they had planned)

- very chill about your first partner, actually. I know that a lot of parents aren't, but I honestly don't see Percy and Annabeth being the track your phone and shotgun prom pictures type. As long as your partner was respectful and treated you well, they had no reason to be upset.

-coming back to the sports thing, Percy would be upset if you got to be embarrassed by them going to your games and stuff now. It happens for some kids, obviously (and him and Annabeth have gotten a lot more excited and a little obnoxious about everything the better you got), but he'd be upset that he's not cool anymore.

- proms and homecoming dances are such a big deal. They never really went to any school dances, unless you count when they were trying to find Nico and Bianca, so they're super interested in yours. They want you to have a good time, but they definitely might be projecting a little bit.

- On that note, for my long haired friends, Annabeth totally does your hair for you for those events. I personally think most Athena kids are good at doing hair, since weaving is part of Athena's whole thing and like doing complex hairstyles definitely requires that, and  Annabeth would really enjoy that bonding experience.

- Percy originally wanted to be the one to teach you to drive, but you scared him so many times that he couldn't be alone in a car with you for a long time. Everyone makes mistakes while they're learning, and he's usually a brave guy, but it's a million times scarier now that it's you. Maybe he's just worried about you getting hurt.  Maybe he doesn't want to have to pay for any repairs. Could be both.

- your graduation was so emotionally devastating for them. Gods, they're just so damn proud of you. Highschool isn't as easy as some people make it seem,and even if it was, it's still such a big deal. And it was also so bittersweet because you really aren't a kid  anymore, and they're so excited for you to experience the adult world, but they also miss their little baby.

-also,if you go to a school that lets you decorate your cap,I just know they'd want to help. Obviously they'd follow whatever your idea was but I could see y'all being an arts and crafts family, y'know?

- I don't wanna say that Annabeth has earned a reputation that could get you into any colleges without much effort because I don't think she'd let you get away with not trying, but like...if she wasn't like that, you could.

-also, they'd be really chill if you didn't want to go to college,as long as you were doing something safe and that makes you happy. They know that extra school isn't for everyone and they also know there's a lot of jobs that don't need any degree that can make more money than jobs that do (not that money's all that matters, but it's a good motivator.)

A/N(number 2):Lord I love thinking about Percy and Annabeth getting to have a nice normal-ish life. Let me know if u guys have any specific scenarios you wanna see with parental Percabeth,I get such a hit of nostalgia and happiness from this dynamic

[box-life-hermit]

A lovely person on tiktok with the username @/ goodboygutz has made a series of videos talking about various "animal coded things" that people do, and as a therian, I love this shit

So allow me to make a list of more animal coded things! There may be overlap between animals

He may have done some of these animals, or he may not have, but I just wanted to contribute <3

If anyone else wants to add things that are [insert animal] coded, go ahead!

Animals in this post: Shark, Dolphin, Crocodile/ Alligator, Bear, Kangaroo, & Spider.

Ik a spider is an insect but shhh

🦈Shark-coded things:

Getting oral fixations / a need to chew on things

This one feels kinda obvious, but you like to swim

This is very specific, but when you go swimming, you like to swim under water and then shoot up above the surface of the water (this can also be whale-coded and dolphin coded)

You're always busy and on the go

Wearing jewelry that has shark teeth on it seems like something a shark would do if it became human

Seeing how long you can hold your breath under water

Liking to wear sleeveless shirts seems kinda shark coded to me idk

Having bad vision is shark-coded to me like have you seen greenland sharks?

If you like to just make the chomping sound just to hear your teeth clink together

If you're really flexible, that's shark coded- bending like u got no bones & shit

Shark coded behaviors are like the himbo version of dolphin behavior but anyone can be a shark

Wearing those hoodies that zip up at the hood feels very shark-coded to me

🐬Dolphin-coded:

The jumping out of water thing mentioned in shark coded things

You're a stoner

Being into ballet / figure skating

If you like to eat seaweed

When you go swimming you like to go diving for things (if you've ever dropped something purposely in the bottom of the pool just to go and dive for it)

Again if, when you go swimming, you like to see all the different tricks you can do (making bubbles under water, doing flips under water, different ways to jump into the water)

If your laugh kind of sounds like "ha-a-a-a-a-a-ah" iykwim

When you get excited or happy, you just start squealing

If you like collecting seashells

Idk why, but being good at math or science seems dolphin coded to me

🐊 Crocodile/ Alligator-coded:

When you're in a body of water, if you like to just sit there and float in the water instead of actually swimming / you know how to float on your back

Wearing jean jackets seems very crocodile coded to me

Liking denim / jean material in general tbh- alligator skin clothes just feels too obvious but ig that too

Having long nails, bonus points if they're uneven

When you go to a restaurant afterward, you ask for toothpicks. Alternatively, you like cleanings at the dentist. Fr just those birds cleaning out ur silly little gator mouth

Your color metal jewelry of choice is black metal, OR wearing jewelry with that like string/ rope material

Wearing pants that have a lot of pockets / genuinely liking camo print? Alligator/ crocodile coded

You can go a really long time without blinking

Adding this for the shits and gigs: you are a Crocs wearer.

🐻 Bear-coded:

You like crocheted things

Youre a honey over sugar person (seems obvious)

Wearing any kind of ugs but especially ugs boots

You drink hot tea- bonus points if you put honey in it

Having a hammock in ur room is bear coded but its also ferret coded

People think you're intimidating at first but you're really nice

In the winter you curl up under your bed with a bunch of stuffed animals and warm blankets

Not being a morning person is bear coded imo

Liking smores but specifically liking MAKING smores

This seems kinda obvious too but if you like to go camping

When you "nap," it's over 3hrs / you are a deep sleeper. Bonus points if you snore that is suuuper bear coded.

When you're mad, your go-to thing is to just grunt or yell

If your bed has a lot of blankets on it- bonus points if theyre soft / fuzzy throw blankets

Wearing oversized hoodies / wearing those hoodie blanket things (oodies?)

Your love language is aggressive affection

You like wearing fingerless mittens

You like climbing trees (also feels a little obvious)

When you're really excited/ hyped, you jump up and down. Also, you like trampolines (feels obvious) (can be rabbit coded)

🦘Kangaroo-coded:

(Will be overlap with bunny coded things)

When you need to get somewhere in a hurry, instead of running, you might start skipping

You need to have pockets on the clothes your wearing (similar to alligator/ crocodile coded)

If someone asked you to hold a cat or puppy/ small animal, you would hold it by cradleing it like a baby

Wearing big boots? Kangaroo behavior imo

Wearing sunglasses? Idk it's kangaroo coded bc I say so 🤷🏽‍♂️

When you go out, you have a million things in your bag - you're the type of person to bring a bunch of things "just in case"

Youre the type of person to furrow your brow when you get confused / focused

🕷Spider-coded:

Not exactly that you're someone who likes WEARING crocheted things, but that you're someone who does crochet / knit (can also be bird coded)

You were into rainbow-loom as a kid

Sewing/ any type of skill like that seems super spider coded

If your bed has a million random items in it like your phone, a water bottle, airpods, ect.

Having long but even nails seems spider-coded

This seems obvious, but if you're into areal arts with silks

If you're someone who wears a lot of fishnets- fishnet tights, fishnet top, fishnet gloves

When you have a straw wrapper / when you pick off loose strings on your clothes you roll them into a ball

You're someone who likes round-shaped foods; like a rice ball, a cake pop, donut holes, cheese balls, etc.

Wearing lacey clothes feels spider-coded

Follow for more!

[violettavonviolet]

Batman Podfic Rec's

These are my podfic recommendations for DC, most are Tim Drake Centric bc I am a stan at heart <3

the length goes up as you scroll, go show the podficcer and author some love!

(if you want some more specific recs for a ship & co, send an ask or a dm, I probably have something!)

[podfic] Acquired Taste

reena_jenkins

Summary:

Gotham can be finicky about some things.

9 minutes, Tim Drake centric

[podfic] A Story With A Capital 'S' (Or Two)

reena_jenkins

Summary:

Dick could understand why Tim slept in a Superman T-shirt sometimes. Because, Superman, right? But this...

15 min, TimKon

[podfic] Birdwatch11

reena_jenkins

Summary:

Tim hadn’t actually meant to start a popular Batwatch blog.

He hadn’t meant to start a blog at all honestly but by the time he turned eleven he’d accumulated hundreds of pictures of Batman and Robin on his Nikon DSLR and it had just seemed inefficient to go through the trouble of printing them and storing them in a box under his bed when BlogSphere had a perfectly adequate platform.

16 minutes, Tim & Bruce

[podfic] Road Rage Robin

reena_jenkins

Summary:

"I'd be doing humanity a favor." Tim grinds out, "And I would get away with it. I could totally get away with it. I've done worse."

18 minutes, Gen

[podfic] Glorified Babysitter

reena_jenkins

Summary:

"Is this a cult?" Tim asks, "Because I don't really want to run around in spandex. I have dreams that require a decent eight hours of sleep before school. Ivy League dreams."

20 minutes, Gen

[podfic] Choices, They're Difficult

reena_jenkins

Summary:

"As much as I love your statistics," And Tim does. There is some drool-worthy math going on, here. "I don't see why you're talking about me and Roy and Jason like I'm going to marry one of them someday."

21 minutes, JayTimRoy

 [podfic] Raising Robin

GeneratorCat, reena_jenkins

Summary:

Sometimes Tim thinks, what would Jason do? Usually the answer is violent, such as punch the fucker in the face.

(Red Hood is protective of Robin, Tim questions his morality, and Bruce is emotionally inept.)

1 hour 30 minutes, Jaytim

[podfic] 1-800-ROBIN

Annapods

Summary:

“Gotham Youth Mental Health Hotline, this is Jason speaking. Can I ask who I’m talking to?”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and then a small voice says, “I, um. Sorry, I don’t know why I called. This was a mistake. I’ll just hang up now.”

“Hey, wait.” Jason drops his feet to the floor, sitting forward in his shitty cubicle. Suddenly his heart is racing and he’s not sure why, but he can’t let this kid hang up. “You don’t have to tell me your name. That’s okay. Just – why don’t you tell me why you’re calling?”

1 hour 30 minutes, Tim & Jason

[podfic] Bird by Bird

laceymcbain, reena_jenkins

Summary:

Bullets, knives, a three story fall, even a fucking crowbar hadn't managed to keep Jason down permanently, but Dick Grayson (and the rest of his "family") was going to kill him with kindness.

2 hours 20 minutes, Gen

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 26/?

Prev | Next

The first back-to-school meeting happened a month after school started. Jason decided to attend. He wanted to be on top of Danny’s education and ensure everything went smoothly. Parents were encouraged to bring in snacks for the kids.

Jason made chocolate chip cookies. He even made gluten and nut-free ones in case any of the kiddos were allergic.

He entered the school with the cookies and sat them on a table, making sure the labels were correct. Danny ran off to find his friends. Jason smiled. He was glad his son had people to talk to.

Jason turned around and came face-to-face with a blond woman. She was in her mid-thirties and wore a prim suit. She wore a pearl necklace. Three more women dressed similarly were behind her. She looked Jason up and down. He had worn his best pair of jeans, a clean T-shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Hello, my name is Avril Dubois. I’m the president of the PTA. I’ve never seen you here before, are you lost?”

Jason gritted his teeth at her question while she and her cronies laughed.

“No, my name is Jason Nightingale. I’m Danny Nightingale’s father. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said while putting out his hand. Avril ignored the hand and gave a look of distaste at it. So what if he still had grease under his nails? Her ignoring the handshake was rude.

“Right, I’ve heard about Danny from my little girl. Where’s his mother,” she asked while looking around. Wow, nosy much?

“She died while giving birth to him. It’s just me, Danny, my sister, and my niece.”

“That poor boy doesn’t know the touch of a mother’s love. It must be hard for you, especially since you’re so…young,” she sneered at the word young.

Judgmental to boot, she was the whole package.

“Don’t worry, I give my son enough love for two people.”

“Still, being a single must be tough. Well, I’ll talk to you later. Or maybe not. Ta-ta.”

Jason was glad to see the women leave.

He looked for Danny and saw him talking to a group of kids. Jason smiled once more, feeling how happy Danny was, which made Jason feel so much better about his decision to send him to school.

“Say goodbye for now, Danny. The assembly is about to start, then we can go to your classroom, and you can show me around.”

“Okay, daddy. Bye guys, see you later.”

Jason sat through the meeting assembly. It was a bit boring, but he was glad to see how the school operated. Danny was busy playing with a 6x6 Rubik’s cube. After the assembly, Jason went to Danny’s classroom, where he officially met the teacher.

Mrs. Duma was a friendly, middle-aged teacher who had been teaching for seventeen years. She spoke about how well-behaved and smart Danny was. His best subject was math, and Mrs. Duma had to print 12th-grade-level worksheets to keep him entertained. Well, that made sense.

 Jason couldn’t help but preen at the compliments Danny got.

Then Avril Dubois came up.

“Mrs. Duma, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Mrs. Dubois, what a pleasure to have you as a parent to one of my students again,” Mrs. Duma said through clenched teeth. Aw, it wasn’t just Jason who didn’t like the woman.”

“Excuse me,” Jason left the two women and looked for his little boy. He was showing a little blonde girl with glasses his Rubik's cube.

“Daddy, this is my friend, Sarah.”

“Hello, Sarah, I’m Danny’s dad, Jason.”

“Hi,” the little girl said shyly.

“Wanna see our drawings, daddy?”

Danny showed Jason his paintings. They were good. Then he showed them the models he had built. He knew his little boy was talented with his hands, but some of the things he had built looked very advanced. Hmm, maybe Jason should invest in buying Danny more things to build.

Seeing the models, he knew Danny would love working on the car with him.

“Mommy, look what I drew,” Jason looked up to see Sarah talking to Avril. The little girl was being ignored by her mom as she talked to a group of moms. Now that Jason paid attention, the little girl looked like a miniature version of Avril. The poor girl was shooed away from her mom without getting any acknowledgment.

His heart went out to her.

Danny went to Sarah, “Is everything okay,” he asked.

“Yeah,” the little girl answered, “mommy is just busy.”

“Can I see,” Jason asked. The little girl brightened at having an adult’s attention. It was a good painting.

“Wow, kiddo, that looks great!”

The little girl smiled, showing her missing teeth.

“Sarah, what have I told you about speaking to strangers?”

Avril took her little girl’s hand, ignoring the squeak of surprise she gave.

“Listen, I don’t know what your game is or how you were able to put your child in this school, but I would appreciate it if you don’t speak to my child.”

“Lady, Danny is Sarah’s friend. He was introducing me to her. Maybe if you paid more attention to your child, she wouldn’t be talking to strangers.”

The woman honest to God clutched her pearls, “How dare you? Come, Sarah.”

“Bye, Danny,” the little girl said while being dragged along.

“Is everything okay, daddy?”

“Yeah, ignore her. She’s a b—not a nice person.”

Thankfully, the rest of the parents weren’t like Avril and her little clique. They all seemed to welcome Jason.

At the end of the meeting, Jason went to sign up for the PTA.

“Are you sure you want to do this,” the woman scoffed, “We meet every two weeks. I’m sure you’re busy doing other things. We also engage with the school and teachers. Fundraisers, school activities, things like that.”

Jason smiled at the woman as he signed his name, “When’s the first meeting?”

Jason had a new nemesis. Her name? Avril Dubois.

Someone suggested that Jason has a PTA-style rivalry, but I cannot for the life of me find the comment to give the credit. So, to whoever suggested this, thank you! Anyway, now that we have Avril, does anyone want to see anything between the rivalry between the two?

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

[slutforaemond]

What if modern! Aemond was your tutor?{Pt 2}

Link to Part one.

He would take on the job seriously at first; seeing it as an academic experience. But then he would actually see you in your tight tees and shorts, with stray strands of hair which escaped from your carelessly tied bun, sweeping across your face as you would look up at him with eyes which somehow managed to be the most innocent as well the as the sluttiest at the same time.

One look at you and he would know that his endeavours with you would be far from academic if anything.

Even though all he wanted to do was bend you over the study table and destroy your ass whenever he saw you walking ahead of him as you lead him to your room. His manhood couldn't help but spring to life as his eyes would fix on your jiggling ass which was barely covered by your flimsy shorts.

The moment he would enter your room, your feminine scent would hit his nose making him lose his mind to depravity.

But he would controlled himself, albeit with much difficulty. He wouldn't wanna scare you off at the very first meet. He would take his time to seize you up, to drive you mad till you couldn't take the sexual tension anymore. He knew that you tried hard to conceal your lustful glances towards him, but would fail adorably.

He wouldn't let you know that he could clearly see the hardened nipples and perky breasts through your swear soaked t-shirt, or the way you would clench your soft and supple thighs together every time he would purposely flex his forearms.

He would pretend to not notice your laboured breaths each time he would praise you, and to his delight even when he reprimanded you. It only made him fantasize just how much of a coverted freak you would be once he got you to open up in bed.

Even though your mind would race with dirty thoughts, you were still quite innocent, at least in Aemond's view. Because you wouldn't recognise the most obvious signs of a man who is mentally preparing to fuck your brains out.

He would train his eyes on the way you would nibble on your lips as you would try to concentrate on a math problem. His cock would twitch every time you would perk up in your seat or lean closer to him to peer at the book.

He would internally smirk at how you were so oblivious to his raging boner creating a tent in his pants, or how he would pretend to accidentally brush his arm against your pebbled nipples, or how his eyes raked over every curve and crevice of your body.

But you would know that soon, for he knew he won't be able to hold it in much longer. He knew you were your edge too as he could practically smell your arousal each time.

"Soon." He would think to himself or rather make a promise to himself, as he would pacify his painfully hard cock by fantasizing about you on your knees, in just your cute printed panties, and firm boobs peeking up as you would look up at him with the expression of the most innocent vixen; something that only you could pull off.

-------------------------------------------------------

There you go! The Aemond's pov is here. I hope you liked it.

Let me know if you want a full length smut of this trope.💜

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Character Profile - America

Character Name: USA, Murica, Alfred, Alfie-come-lately, Al. 1585-1775 - Alfred F Kirkland. 1775-???? - Alfred F Jones.

Age: 16 as of 1775, 18 in 1789, 21 mid 19th century. 25 by WW2 and still generally in that range.

Height: 6'0/183cm in 1775, 6'2/189cm after 1850ish.

Physical Description: This child was born a tungsten cube and grew into an adamantium adult. He's tall, broad-shouldered and strong. USDA Grade-A corn-fed BEEF right here. He's muscle as fuck with a good inch of fat on him every which way. Really putting the dough in doughboy. He's athletic, with the shoulders of a linebacker but is shockingly graceful and easy in his body. Arthur loved him enough that the confidence and good nature he exuded in his posture and looks are 100% genuine 80% of the time. He was an absolute cherub of a baby and grew into the kind of good looking that would really be described as more beautiful than handsome if he wasn't as broad as the baptist definition of sin.

Eye colour: Pacific, deep water navy, NASA mission blue. Dark, dark blue. Almost black, if not in good light.

Hair colour/style: Amber waves of grain. Two or three shades darker than Matt's and less red than Matt's or Jack's. Imagine all the wheatfields of America at the reaping, find the average tone, and that's Alfred's hair colour. Rich, harvest grain gold. It has a good amount of wave to it that shows even with its being short. He's generally worn it short and to one side to show off the wave he can get. Had some wicked curtain bangs in the 90s tho.

Other distinguishing physical traits: He has never worn a beard in his life, but it tends to come in redder than his hair. Aunt Bridgie's genes really start flexing there. He's got a mostly faded scar over his heart from Matt's pyromaniac-ass burning down DC. And probably more I'll have to add here later.

Personal Appearance/Style: Alfred loves looking good. The first thing Francis taught him was how good he could look and he's been following it ever since. He prefers blue suits, but he'll wear warm greys and black. He knows he looks like a ten-course meal in just grey joggers and a NASA t-shirt against those golden guns of his though. Also, the uniforms he picks are the ones that look good on him. Does he look like shit in one shade of olive drab? He's swapping it out. He showed up in Japan on the Black Ships in the most flattering cut of the Navy officer's uniform there was and it looked fucking good on him, all that dark blue with gold accents. He likes brown leather over black because the warmer colour looks better with his golden boy looks, and he knows it.

Verbal Style: He uses a neutral American or a less broad New England accent when overseas but slides in and out of any possible American accent at home. He got shot at during the Civil War because even in blue the whole goddamn time, he would slide into his original Virginia accent and have to duck rifle fire. Fucker probably sounded slightly transatlantic for a while in the 20th century. He doesn't purposefully code-switch from culture to culture; it's just automatic. He speaks several languages fluently and without an accent if he wants to, but he uses a southern accent speaking Japanese or a Kennedy Accent when speaking German. He knows it's not a jelly doughnut, Deutschland, promise! The more Arthur annoys him, the thicker his American accent gets.

Level of Education: Arthur educated him at home, got him, tutors on literally anything that Alfred fancied, apprenticed him out to any trade that interested him; printing and gunsmithing were the big ones, and then sent him to Harvard when he got bored with that. He graduated from West Point just before the Civil War and personally shot a few of his classmates who sided with the south :) but turned more to engineering, commerce and math after the war. He didn't reappear in the east until the 1880s, so he did a lot of mail-order books and self-study during that period. He also got another degree from The University of the Pacific in that period out west.

Occupation: The government is always trying to rope him into shit, but the boy's heart is in the stars, and something the government did has to be a big deal before he gives a flying fuck. His main squeeze is NASA, but he occasionally shows up to DC to steamroll some favours out of congress, especially when he has the urge to fly something experimental or a particular issue has been bothering him.

Past Occupations: Soldier, sailor, airman, astronaut, gunsmith, printing press operator, mechanical engineer, heiress, physicist, chemist, biologist, anthropologist, archaeologist, mechanic, railroad engineer, cowboy, blacksmith, cook, construction worker, gamekeeper, welder, a gold miner. The boy has some restlessness, okay? He's had many jobs.

Skills, Abilities or Talents: Alfred, even amongst nations, is quite freaky. Super strength, damage resistance, resurrection power that's faster than almost anyone. He can fly, drive, handle or otherwise operate any vehicle without training. He knows how they all work. He's also highly gifted in math and physics. He has been known to make California tremble a wee bit when he's genuinely well and fucking pissed. He'll get his ass lost on a boat or on foot, but in the air, he's possibly the best navigator on the face of the earth. But literally, he can do almost anything he sets his mind to. It's unnatural.

Admirable Personality Traits: Optimistic, idealistic, brilliant, generous, confident, fair.

Negative Personality Traits: Self-righteousness, recklessness, thoughtlessness, arrogance,

Sense of Humor: Silly, slapstick, observational.

Physical/Mental illness or affliction: He's sometimes just shy of narcissistic but usually pulls himself off the brim. Arthur's sons might be eligible for an ADHD diagnosis, but I did that on accident before I got diagnosed rifp. He's not the anxious or depressed type. He has had periods of pretty acute PTSD.

Hobbies/Interests: Computers and tech, filmmaking, archaeology, camping, hiking, adventure sports, surfing, paleontology, working out, protein foot products, star gazing, listening to audiobooks and podcasts. But, like, literally everything interests this kid.

Favourite Foods: BBQ; he can't pick a favourite style tho. Burgers, cheese fries, pizza, strangely flavoured novelty chips. Apple pie with ice cream and blueberry maple ice cream is his and Matt's favourite. Paw-paws are a very rare treat. Huckleberry-flavoured anything will make him absolutely grin.

Most important personal item: He expected to inherit Arthur's pocket watch like other sons did their fathers in the 18th century, so in 1976, when Arthur did give him the pocket watch and a very expensive wristwatch because the pocket watches had gone out of style, he has worn it everywhere since. To Mars and the Mojave, he'll wear that thing everywhere and get it repaired if it takes any damage.

Person/friend close to character: Matt's his best friend. He and Maria are also close but belligerent. Arthur is also in his top 5. Kiku, Ludwig, Tolys, Romano, Mai, etc, are all on his very close friend list. Of older nations, he and Brighid are very close, if complex.

Brief family history: He was born in 1585 or so in Virginia. Arthur said, "finders keepers," From that moment, he was the man's firstborn child. In his childhood, he mainly had Arthur and Rhys, and Alasdair and Brighid, somewhat less until later. He's never met his grandmother or her ghost. He was an only child for about 20-30 years and spent a lot of his childhood functionally an only child with Matt in Francois' care. The two youngest 'siblings' he's got he's not quite sure what to do with them. The relationship isn't precisely sibling-like, but he's pretty fond of them, and he has some trauma from being ditched in New England during the British Civil War, so he saved their asses in 1941.

Most painful experiences in the character’s past: I don't think anything can top the Civil War because he represented the Union, i.e. the United States. It took him years and years to recover, especially because he was living a rough out west lot of the post-war. He got consumption while personally marching to the sea to burn the fucking shit out of the Confederacy. :)

Their Song: Babylon by Barnes Courtney.

[wormmilker]

The PS5 has been out for three years and Chris Dunne deserves one by now he deserves a PS5 the universe owes him one all of this is still this is the text this is all on the shirt the universe owes him a PS I did the math Will I did the math its it’s I did the math if if we made if we fuckin profit 10 dollars a shirt I I give you half of that I get five dollars a shirt I gotta sell 80 t-shirts in order to get a PS5 94 t-shirts if I’m including a copy of Baldur’s Gate 3 that’s doable that’s totally doable that’s all on the shirt all of this is on the shirt including this including this it’s doable I could sell 80 shirts that’s on the shirt too right this is all on the shirt okay this is all going on it’s all on the shirt that’s the shirt that’s my idea for some new merch that’s great that’s a great shirt yeah and the fun thing is that it could also be a poster or that’s true or like a mug or a drink or fucking anything I don’t know just who cares wait can you do that can you setup on the bigcartel like 12 different items all with right the same block of text on it yeah and the plan is to price all of those items I will profit enough enough to purchase a PS5 that’s a lot of items and the second I make 400 dollars they’re gone they disappear because this is a terrible thing for me to do I shouldn’t do this its so funny that’s no that’s such a good idea I just I’ve been thinking about just putting up a fucking PayPal link I’m done I need a PS5 dude that’s dude I I like I want I was just I’m fucking sitting at home just like ahhh here’s the thing I’m not gonna like fuckin I’m not gonna I I I I I don’t I don’t want to beg for money uh huh I didn’t think I wanted to beg people for money but then I took a long hard think about how badly I want a PS5 and I think I might be okay with it. I’ve been having fantasy’s about just going to target and looking at them ya know just fantasies about looking about just I just been maybe I’ll go to target or Walmart today and just look at the ps5s just to be like I could get that I could I could have one I could take it home I could take it I could just buy it today what’s stopping you then because I PS5 the price point its at right now its very dangerous because its an exact price point where I could buy it and it wouldn’t immediately ruin my life but it would make it so that my life gets ruined quicker a couple months down the line okay right which still makes it a bad purchase right yeah you know what I mean that’s kinda where I’m at okay so I say we do the t-shirt thing we make a t-shirt a mug a poster all the specific niche things that the drop shipping company that we work with prints on yeah do’m all all the printful stuff just the entire printful catalogue 50 items yeah the whole catalogue this huge block of text make socks fucking fill out the entire bigcartel page mousepads with as many items as they’ll let me put on thermoses just canvas prints every single possible literation on of it and if that bothers you there’s a very quick to get me to stop doing it just buy them you just need to be the 80th person to buy these fucking t-shirts that’s amazing can we give a prize to the 80th person who buys one uh well how much is the prize uh its its its um its you get a little sandwich kiss you and me each take a cheek and give him a little smooch alright well I’m just going to round and say its going to 40 bucks for travel expenses so that’s 8 more t-shirts we have to before we do that but then yeah sure ya know well then we just increase yeah exactly we just increase the number of t-shirts I have to sell right exactly

[spicysix]

now i don't hate California after all

“They arrived at the beginning of fall, and yet California was sunny, hot, and colorful. Jonathan saw it all gray. He hated the sun, the heat, the dryness. Hated how he was always sweating, bothered about the weather, about the place, about the people. Everyone was so nice, and cheerful, and happy. He hated it. He was miserable. Argyle was nice and cheerful and happy. He was sunny and warm and colorful. Jonathan hated him at first.”

rating: T

warnings/tags: it's a Jargyle fic, friends - there's weed. jonathan's POV, bisexual king johnny-boy byers, black cat VS golden retriever energy. he's just a lil grumpy guy :)

word count: 4k

author's note: HAPPY JARGYLE JURSDAY! and happy pride! 💛🏳️‍🌈 this is the first of a few fics i have planned to write and post this month, all with queer relationships. absolutely random note: I based Lenora Hills off of Barstow-California, based losely on the location shown on Murray's computer and the overview of the town. fic based on a song of the same name by my queen of queens, Carly Rae Jepsen. hope y'all like this, and hope i made justice by my dearly beloved stoners! 💛

↳ ao3

Jonathan hated it at first.

Of course he hated it. How could he not? It was his whole world changed from night to day. Seventeen years of his life packed in a single morning into a few boxes into a truck across the whole country. Away from the few friends he had, away from the girlfriend he loved, away from all of the only things he ever really knew.

Jonathan feared it at first.

Of course he feared it. How could he not? His mother was alone, no husband, no boyfriend, no friends. His sister was alone, no boyfriend, no friends, no father. His brother was alone. He was alone. All they had was each other. What if it wasn’t enough? What if they were alone forever, thousands of miles away, and each others’ companies didn’t suffice?

But he also understood. How could he not? It was safer. A fresh new start, away from the dangers that haunted them, the ones that found them and the ones still lurking. Far away enough, hidden enough that they wouldn’t be found again. His mom would figure it out, Joyce always did. They could adapt, they could find new friends, they could still call and send letters to the old ones. They could go back for spring break, or for summer, or the ones left behind could come visit. It could work.

Doesn’t mean Jonathan liked it. Jonathan hated it, actually.

They arrived at the beginning of fall, and yet California was sunny, hot, and colorful.

Jonathan saw it all gray.

He hated the sun, the heat, the dryness. Hated how he was always sweating, bothered about the weather, about the place, about the people. Everyone was so nice, and cheerful, and happy. He hated it. He was miserable.

Argyle was nice and cheerful and happy. He was sunny and warm and colorful.

Jonathan hated him at first.

Saw that guy, first day of school, wearing a ridiculous shirt with more colors than the human eye can capture. The baggiest shorts Jonathan had ever seen, and they had a different psychedelic print on each leg. Fucking rainbow socks with hideous square-print Vans. He attracted all the attention around and yet, somehow, people didn’t seem to care about him one bit.

He was everywhere, too. Not just at Jonathan’s Math, Science, English and History classes, but at his woodworking elective as well. He shopped at the same grocery store that sold the snacks El loved, at the same farmers’ market Joyce got the best fruits, at the same craft store with Will’s favorite items, he worked at the best pizza place in town. Jonathan couldn’t escape him if he tried.

It took them a while to share their first words. Woodwork elective, Argyle needed someone to help him with a big project he had — it didn’t work, at the end, and he cut the huge wood plank into smaller pieces and made smaller things. For some reason, he saw Jonathan with a scowl on his face, pure disdain of how colorful and cheerful Argyle was, and decided to ask for his help.

Jonathan might’ve hated the guy, but he was raised well and polite. There was no actual reason for him to hate the guy too, so he helped. And hoped to never have to talk to Argyle again after that.

Of course that didn’t go as he hoped.

Argyle, who was once just a dude in the background of every scenario Jonathan walked into, was now purposefully centering himself in front of Jonathan’s lenses (his metaphorical lenses, because his actual cameras were kept in his bedroom. He couldn’t find it in himself the desire to take pictures of Lenora, its dry hot deserts and cheerful colorful people). Argyle talked to him, constantly, sat by Jonathan’s side at every Math, Science, English and History class, chose Jonathan as his woodworking partner from then on. Was Jonathan’s shopping buddy at the grocery, called out to Jonathan at the farmers’ market, gave Jonathan tips on what to buy for Will, delivered the Byers’ pizzas personally every time they ordered.

As they reached the end of the year, the weather cooled down a little — nothing compared to what they had back home in Hawkins, of course. But it was easier for Jonathan. It rained a little too, which helped with the dryness. People went for neutral tones and colors, and the sun didn’t bother his skin as much.

Argyle was still just as colorful, warm and sunny. Jonathan hated him. No one else seemed to notice him.

Will and El still didn’t seemed to have find friends too, which didn’t help with Jonathan’s anxiety and hatred. He was worried all of the time. About himself, about his siblings. His mom was doing fine at least, it’s been a while since Jonathan had to worry about her, thankfully.

“My man, you gotta chill a little,” Argyle said one day as they were leaving their woodwork elective, somehow noticing Jonathan’s tension.

Jonathan didn’t talk a lot, Argyle did most of the talking. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Have you ever tried smoking?” he asked.

“How would nicotine help besides getting me an addiction?” Jonathan countered.

Argyle clicked his tongue, “Not regular smokes, man. Nature’s goodies,”

“The devil’s lettuce?” Jonathan asked, and Argyle cackled loudly. Jonathan had never seen him laugh so hard. It wasn’t even that funny. Jonathan smiled just a little at the sound anyway.

“That’s right, man! Have you?” Jonathan only shook his head. “You wanna try? I bet it’ll do you some good, you look so pent up all the time, man.”

Jonathan didn’t know how Argyle knew that. Not like he had seen Jonathan in any other state if not pent up to know the difference. Jonathan’s small, rare joyful moments always happened at home. When Will was excited about something at school, when El was excited about a letter from Mike, when his mom was excited about a sell. When he was excited about a letter from Nancy. Those have been scarce.

Jonathan shrugged as an answer to Argyle’s offer.

“Well, if you ever feel like it, I can set you up.” Jonathan liked that Argyle didn’t pressured him.

They parted ways at the parking lot. Argyle was always driving the Surfer Boy pizza van. Jonathan’s car was dying a slow agonizing death, and he had been fearing the day the car would stop working.

That day had arrived.

Jonathan tried to ignite the car while waiting for his siblings to show up from wherever they were. But it wasn’t working, the car wasn’t starting and Jonathan hit his head on the steering wheel a few times with all that pent up anger inside him.

“Jonathan, you’re gonna get a hole on your forehead,” Will spoke as he knocked at Jonathan’s window.

“The car won’t start,” Jonathan complained, leaving the vehicle and checking his wristwatch. “Mom might be able to come pick us in between calls, maybe. This piece of shit.” He turned around and kicked the front tire. El giggled behind Will, Jonathan didn’t think it was funny.

“Hey man, I can get you and the younglings back home. I know where you live,” Argyle showed up from somewhere, Jonathan hadn’t noticed he was still in the parking lot.

“You know that sounds creepy, right?” Will asked. “Who the hell are you?”

Jonathan almost laughed, “He’s the pizza delivery guy, and he’s also in my year. Argyle, these are Will and Jane, my younger siblings.”

“You don’t look like a surfer boy,” El commented, noticing Argyle’s Surfer Boy visor. He’d probably head to work after school.

“And I am not one, little friend. Couldn’t hold myself standing up on a board, not even for a miracle. Maybe sitting down, on a pool, not on the ocean with the waves. But then it wouldn’t be surfing, now, would it?” Argyle said, that cheerful happy huge smile of his. Jonathan huffed, El seemed amused by the answer. “Shall we?” he asked, already heading for the pizza van.

“I should get the car towed first. I’ll call from the public phone over there,” Jonathan said and did as he said.

Argyle entertained Will and El as Jonathan called and waited for the towing, and as he talked to the towing guy when he arrived. He asked for the car to be taken to his house instead of the garage, because Jonathan didn’t have the money to pay for a fix. He’d have to save up, or try and do the fixing himself.

 He sat at the front with Argyle in the Surfer Boy’s van, Will and El went in the back and asked Argyle all of the possible questions to ask someone who works at a pizza place. He didn’t seem to mind answering them all. They also asked a lot about his hair, and Argyle told El he’d give her tips to grow her hair long and pretty like his. She looked radiant at the promise.

Jonathan kept it to himself all of the way back, but all of the rambling from his siblings and his colleague didn’t annoy him. They seemed to like Argyle, and that made the dude ease his way a little further into Jonathan’s own heart. That’s how it worked, isn’t it? The way into Jonathan’s heart was always going through his family first.

When Argyle stopped in front of the Byers’ house, Jonathan’s old Ford was already there, and he paid the towing people as Will and El entered the house.

“I can come pick you guys up tomorrow if you want,” Argyle offered when Jonathan went back to the passenger window to thank him for the ride.

“I don’t wanna bother,” he said.

“Nah, man, don’t worry, it’s all good. I’ll be here tomorrow then. See ya, dude,” he said and just took off.

Jonathan stayed there a little while longer, staring at the street where the van had rode by, confusion all over his face. That guy was the weirdest guy he had ever met. But he wasn’t so bad after all.

And then began their new routine. Argyle would always pick them up — most days on the brink of being late — and they would have all their classes together, and Argyle would drop them off after school. He kept easing his way in, and at some point Jonathan started easing his way out of the cave he had dug for himself, and Argyle wasn’t the one talking all of the time anymore. He didn’t seem to mind listening.

Jonathan talked about Nancy, and how she wasn’t sending letters that much anymore. Their plans to go to college together, and how Jonathan wasn’t feeling it as of lately.

Jonathan talked about his dad, and how he was an asshole.

Jonathan talked about his mom, and how she was working all the time, and how he had to be a responsible figure for his siblings.

“They’re twins, are they?” Argyle asked once.

“No, Jane’s my… well, sort of half sister. Her dad was a close family friend, and my mom adopted her when he passed, it’s… a long story.”

Jonathan didn’t talk about the Upside Down.

“They kinda look like twins, though. Wonder twins.” Argyle said, smiling. He didn’t ask. Jonathan was thankful for it.

Jonathan took Argyle’s offer for some weed one day, and after that it was… well, conservatives would call it ‘downhill from there’, but Jonathan finally felt at ease. He liked getting high, liked how his mind wandered away, how his fingers felt a little numb, how the bright colors didn’t bother him for once. How he started seeing some beauty in them.

Argyle’s clothes were still just as colorful, and he was just as warm and sunny. They smoked together, they laughed together, he talked to Jonathan and most important, he listened to him.

The worst of it all?

Jonathan didn’t hate him anymore.

Well, maybe not the worst. Maybe it was for the best.

Nancy and Jonathan broke up through the phone late November.

They didn’t call each other a lot. There were a bunch of reasons. Joyce worked on the phone, so it was busy most of the time. When it was free, either El or Will wanted to talk to Mike, and they could go on for hours. Bills could get expensive. And Nancy preferred the letters anyway. Jonathan thought the letters suited her well.

But they broke up through the phone. Maybe it was for the best. Not to taint the beauty of their past love letters.

Jonathan could hear the frown in her voice, and the tears. She could probably hear it just the same in his voice. He loved her, he did. But long distance was hard. And she wanted to go to Emerson, and Jonathan didn’t. His dream has always been NYU, and that dream might be all the way across the country very far away from him, but he could still dream about it. And Lenora Community wasn’t that bad, and Argyle would be there, and so would Joyce and Will and El. And god knows Jonathan couldn’t leave them, his family. Not even for the girl he loved. Not even for his dreams, much less for hers.

Argyle took him to an old junkyard and they smoked more weed that they ever had and they played ‘golf’, aiming the tiny balls into the old cars’ windows and whoever shattered more glass would win. Jonathan had a feeling Argyle let him win on purpose.

Argyle took him to Surfer Boy’s and baked a pie just for him and paid for it with his employee discount and sat across Jonathan on the table and told him insane stories about the kitchen staff and Jonathan had to hold his laughter or he would choke around a slice of pepperoni.

Argyle took him home in the van — Jonathan hadn’t fixed the car, because he didn’t have the money and because he didn’t have to, because Argyle picked them up and dropped them off and the kids liked him and Jonathan didn’t hate him either. As Argyle parked by the Byers’ house, he placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, looked him straight in the eye and said:

“Plenty of other midwestern fish in the midwestern sea, man.”

Jonathan wasn’t so sure what to answer to that, so he just chuckled, left the van and went inside the house. Peered through the window as the Surfer Boy’s van took off, some weird dancy reggae loud coming from the stereo. He smiled to himself.

Christmas came, no colorful lights hung up on the Byers’ house.

Argyle gave him a coupon for a month’s worth of Surfer Boy’s pizza. Jonathan didn’t think they’d exchange gifts, but he ran as soon as he could to the little shop he knew Argyle got all his weed items from and brought him a new bong. Argyle loved it and they debuted it together on the back of the van, looking down on the town from the desert.

Some pine trees were decorated and the colorful lights on them weren’t as scary as they would be at Jonathan’s house. He didn’t hate them as much there. Argyle’s shoulder was pressed to his as they shared the bong, and his skin was warm and Jonathan tried not to think too much about how his lips were touching the same place as Argyle’s lips did when pulling in the smoke.

New Years Eve came, and Joyce wasn’t too mad about Jonathan not spending it with the family, not once he told her his plans. Him and Argyle traveled to Santa Barbara, to a New Years Eve Luau, of all things. Argyle had a bunch of friends there — Jonathan was his only friend back at Lenora. He wasn’t bothered by that. He could use some other friends too — Argyle was his only friend back at Lenora.

They smoked, of course, and they listened to music and Argyle even danced with a few other guys. He wasn’t too terrible. He tried to make Jonathan dance too, of course that didn’t happen, but Jonathan was content to just watch. It took him by surprise, that realization: he was content. The moon was in her full glory, it was weirdly cold for a night in California, the sound of the waves were soothing, Argyle’s dark brown hair flew around him and his dark brown eyes twinkled by the fire, and Jonathan was content to just watch him.

Some friend of Argyle lived there and he and Jonathan crashed at the dude’s living room pull-out, heater on blast and Argyle’s back pressed to Jonathan’s back helped too, because the guy was always so damn warm.

Argyle let Jonathan put on some of his cassettes on the ride back to Lenora, and Jonathan sang out loud along with The Clash and the Sex Pistols, and Argyle bobbed his head to the rhythm even though he didn’t seem to like that genre of music, and he said: “These dudes are kinda pissed at stuff, man. They suit you, and all that pent up anger of yours.”

Jonathan reassured him: he wasn’t as pent up, or as angry anymore. Argyle smiled wide at that.

School started again and even their woodworking teacher noticed Jonathan’s change of demeanor and came to tell him how happy he was that Jonathan was finally adapted to the move. The teacher kinda hated Argyle — well he was a menace in class, and his projects were always terrible ideas — and Jonathan wanted to tell the teacher he should thank Argyle for that. He kept his quiet, though, but Argyle seemed to understand the funny look Jonathan threw his way after the pep talk.

Jonathan took his camera — that same one Nancy had given to him on Christmas of ‘83 — out of its box for the first time mid January. Some biology project, and he decided to take pictures to illustrate his work about the local low desert shrubs. Lenora High also had a photography room, and it was better funded than the one in Hawkins High, and once Jonathan revealed his photos and showed them to Argyle, he looked incredibly admired, and asked Jonathan to take some pictures of his mushrooms — of course his project was about mushrooms. He payed Jonathan back in pizzas, of course. Jonathan didn’t mind.

Apparently Argyle gushed about Jonathan’s photos at work because later that month he had a gig with Surfer Boy Pizza’s marketing team. He was also booked for the opening of that roller skate rink downtown. And some early-thinking students hired him to take graduation pictures for them when the time came. Word ran through school and he joined the Yearbook staff, and oh god the school paid well. He could even fix his car if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He liked the van.

He used the money to buy more film, and he used the film to take pictures for himself like he used to. His passion was back, and suddenly he saw so much beauty in the California sun, deserts, colors. He saw beauty in the junkyard, broken, abandoned cars with windows crashed. He saw beauty downtown, the colorful storefronts and the busy colorful people passing by. He saw beauty in the suburbs, kids with their bikes reminding him of home but in a nostalgic way instead of the heartbreaking way he used to miss Hawkins when they had just arrived in Lenora.

Argyle, who was once just a dude in the background of every scenario Jonathan walked into, was now purposefully centered in front of Jonathan’s lenses — his actual camera lenses, and Jonathan was the one centering him there.

He saw beauty in the way Argyle chose his ice cream flavors by which one looked more colorful that day. He saw beauty in the way Argyle’s body would twist when he made a powerful throw with the gold club, strong enough to hit the furthest car in the junkyard. He saw beauty in the way the sun would hit Argyle’s long hair as El braided it for him when they went on a picnic for Joyce’s birthday. He saw beauty in Argyle’s wide laugh when Will said something snarky about a teacher, and he saw beauty in Argyle's soft smile when he noticed Jonathan was taking a picture of him.

“Gonna want to see that one, man,” he said and Jonathan only nodded. Argyle didn’t seem bothered to be his muse, and Jonathan somehow didn’t feel embarrassed to be caught on the act.

He did show Argyle the picture later when he reveled it. He showed all of them, and Argyle looked at them with fondness and looked at Jonathan with even more softness and something warm was happening inside Jonathan’s body that he could name if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He just let himself feel it.

Jonathan took couples' pictures on Valentine’s day, and with the money he and Argyle went to Santa Barbara again on the weekend, and Jonathan took pictures of Argyle sitting in the sand, of Argyle with only his feet dipped in the ice cold sea, of Argyle pointing at something beyond the horizon line from the pier, of Argyle lit and glowing by another luau’s fire.

They slept on the beach that time, because that other dude’s pull-out was booked already, but someone lent them a tent and theirs was just one of many, like a big beach sleepover, and Jonathan never felt hippier, and he never felt happier. He laid on his side and faced Argyle’s profile as he snored softly laying on his back, and Jonathan wanted his eyes to be a camera so he could picture Argyle’s face as he slept peacefully. And Jonathan never felt sappier, and he never felt happier.

As Jonathan woke up the next day he was the one being stared at.

“I’ve seen you taking pictures of me, man, but I have none of you,” Argyle said before even bidding good morning.

“I’m more of a behind the cameras kind of guy.”

“Well that has to change at least for once, because if you’re gonna keep a loving portrait of me in your wallet I want the same honor.” Argyle was smirking, which wasn’t common, and Jonathan laughed loudly, which wasn’t common. He felt high, and he hadn’t smoked since yesterday afternoon.

“I don’t keep a loving portrait of you in my wallet, Argyle.”

“Now I’m just offended. You gotta.” They both laughed again before settling.

The sun was high in the sky already, its light peering through the tent fabric and illuminating the inside, but it was like a refrigerator lamp because it was still too damn cold. Argyle’s body heat was comfortable, though. Jonathan was content.

“I’m not reading wrong into this, am I, man?” Argyle asked after a while.

Jonathan could lie or pretend not to understand the question if he wanted to — but he didn’t.

“You’re not,” he answered. “I’ll let you take a picture of me when I look more presentable.”

“You look pretty enough,” Argyle said, and that warm feeling inside Jonathan’s body creeped up to blush his cheeks, but he was still smiling. “You’ll let me keep it in my wallet?”

Jonathan could answer with actual words if he wanted to — but he didn’t. He just reached forward, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against Argyle’s.

He was warm, and sunny, and even his pajamas were colorful, and all that color bled into Jonathan’s life and painted his gray off. Jonathan hated it at first. Of course he hated it. How could he not? Pack all his belongings into a few boxes in just a few hours, take him out of his comfort zone, change his entire view of the world.

But as Argyle’s hand cupped Jonathan’s face, he was warm. He made Jonathan warm, from the outside and from the inside. Jonathan didn’t see it all gray anymore, no, he had an explosion of colors and he didn’t hate them.

Jonathan loved it. Of course he loved it. How could he not?

[cinderbuck]

Death Save Bargain Bin, Page 08

Should've planned ahead for exactly what I wanted in the Bazaar. It was gonna look fabulous. But instead I spent way too long drawing Greetings' boots, and ended up kinda winging the marketplace. In the next page, the one I'm currently working on, I spent more time on the background. Probably too much, as I've been working on it all day, and have just started with the coloring.

I think the *involuntary pirouette* is kind of hard to read. I didn't realize when I was drawing the page last week. I'll keep it in mind for future pages.

The text appearing around Greetings in two of the panels say "be kind", both in English and Infernal. I went with "be kind" instead of "be nice" for the sole reason that "kind" is the Icelandic word for "goat" (or possibly "kid", as in a baby goat, I'm not entirely sure. My Icelandic is terrible.) And Greetings is kind of goat-like, so I simply had to. I recalled a t-shirt my bf had a few years ago with "be kind" on it, and a drawing of a goat. It was lovely, but unfortunately the print kinda just faded away and is now just a blue tee. A reference only I will enjoy.

I do have a conundrum though. As I believe I've mentioned, I'm officially out of finished sketches, and I'm currently working on the page for next week now. Hasn't been a problem the last few weeks, as I haven't really had any Saturday plans, and could spend the entire weekend working on pages, but if I'm busy for just one Saturday, I'll be immediately off schedule. I'll keep trying my best to keep up, but I do know a math quiz is coming up soon, and might have to skip a week around that time.

This was another rather uneventful page, revising-vise.

Previous page, Page 07:

Next page, Page 09:

[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.

[piranya]

10, 18, 22 GO

10. What is a fact about you that nobody would believe? ouu ok i guess one could be that ive got a 6x grammy award winning artists personal cell phone number !! and not in a creepy stalker fan way he gave it to me on purpose i promise 18. What is something you're really bad at? math. remembering things. paying bills and taxes. doing passport/id related things. making phone calls. remembering things. making friends with people who arent secretly toxic or using me. eating healthy consistently. remembering things 22. What is your most prized possession? t-shirt mitch grassi screen printed by hand 🥺🥺🥺