#cartoon guide to physics

[historysurvivalguide]

Holiday Science Book Recommendations

Looking for science books for the holidays for yourself or others? Here are some that I’ve loved that I don’t see often recommended

Basic Optics and Optical Instruments By Naval Education and Training Program Development Center

Might not look like much but this is perhaps the single best book I’ve ever read about optics. If you have even a passing interest in lasers, rainbows, lens, telescopes (or submarine maintenance) I’d highly recommend giving this book a read. It definitely the best written book I’ve encountered for the topic, significantly better than most textbooks on the topics

A lot of books written by and for the navy are some of the most comprehensive and well-written books on a given topic

Get a copy

The Cartoon Guide to Physics by Larry Gonick and Art Huffman

A book for all ages, I read this book when I was in elementary school and again recently and it remains as charming and informative as ever. Great for children or just anyone more inclined to learn visually

Get a copy

A Man on the Moon by Andrew Chaikin

America has landed on the moon not once, but many times with multiple Apollo Missions. Ever wonder what the astronauts were doing up there?

Get a copy

Have a lovely holiday season! ❄️ ⛄️

[assbouncer34]

guy from a physics book i got as a present who looks really cute

[glossykissies]

yoga!reader guiding clark through some moves and his pants get too tight bcos of the way you look in your workout clothes with your ass practically in his face

“so you really think this is gonna help me? you know, with all the… stress?”

it was honestly adorable the way you nodded with a smile, so sure that something as simple as yoga could ease clark of the constant earth-shattering nature of his life — but in your defence, you were none the wiser to the fact he was super human. he’d brushed it off as ‘parent-troubles’ and you’d been too polite to prod further.

“mhm! yoga has helped me through some really hard times, clark. trust me, a little bit every day goes a long way.” you grin, all bubbly and sweet as you lead him to the mat in the empty home gym of your garage. your parents were never home, and he was starting to think you were just happy to have someone over.

he looks around, strolling casually behind you as you set up his little station— hands casually in his sweatpant pockets as he tries to avoid staring right at your ass when you bend over to smooth out his yoga mat. baby pink, so he knew it belonged to you.

“plus, yoga is good for lots of things.” you continue on, intent on filling the silence. “practicing every day has made my body super flexible.” you brag cutely, dusting off your yoga pants as you stand once more.

“oh yeah?” his head whips over to you, which was meant to be innocent but he later realised how eager he might’ve sounded to hear about what positions you can get into.

“yeah! but those kind of things are more advanced. comes with practice. i’d probably start you with some breathing exercises, sitting cross legged. something as simple as that can be yoga too, you know?” you chat, glancing over your shoulder as the two of you take a seat, you slightly infront of him so he could watch and copy you. “or perhaps downward dog? that’s a classic.”

“downward dog?” clark chuckles in amusement at the silly name and you share his confused giggle.

“i know, sounds weird. but it’s easy!” you chirp, spinning on your knees and assuming the position - which happened to quite literally be presenting yourself to clark. you hold the pose, impressively at that — and he finds himself entranced for a moment, eyebrows slowly raising as he boyishly stares at your painted on leggings, snapping himself out of it just as he began to swear he could see the outline of your puffy pussy through the fabric. he clears his throat, physically shaking away the thoughts. he was raised better than that — besides, the loose sweatpants he wore would be anything but forgiving if he let himself get carried away.

“eheuhm— yeah! that’s uh, that’s pretty impressive.” he smiles in his usual friendly way and you spin back to him like a puppy who’d just performed a trick for its owner, looking totally happy with yourself beneath his praise.

“yeah? it was one of the first things i perfected.” you shrug, trying to feign humble now. when you turn to grab your water bottle, clark subtly pulls at his sweatpants to adjust himself as well as he could in such short time. you’re none the wiser. “is there anything specific you wanna learn? i’m not sure how familiar you are with yoga…”

“oh! well, uh— hey. you’re the teacher here. i’ll be grateful for any kind of tips.” he presses his lips together humbly, eyes earnest as he places a hand over his white-tshirt clad chest. that strong chest you kept glancing at.

“hm.” you push your mouth into the corner and tap your chin like a cartoon character. his lips twitch up some more because he finds it adorable. “well i’ve always wanted to try two person yoga… never had a partner to do it with though.” you look down, shy at the suggestion and he sits up a little bit — jumping to reassure you. he couldn’t stand seeing a pretty girl doubt herself. maybe he was also slightly jumping at the notion of touching you. not in a creepy way of course — well, he’s not sure now.

“that sounds like a great idea.” he speaks intentionally, as if trying to convey the reassurance he felt you needed, eyes locked on you until you reciprocate the eye contact. there’s that smile again.

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x Afab!reader

PART FIVE

NSFW

Well! Five parts later and here is your bee-smut! There will be other parts to this, and part six will probably be up by later tonight, since I'm on a roll rn. tw: breasts WILL be mentioned lol

When Rena finally stopped flying, you were outside of a large structure. You’d always imagined the hive itself as a sort of large cartoon beehive, but instead found something that looked more like a gymnasium. The outside coating looked almost like a gray paper mache, no sharp edges in sight. The “building” stood four stories tall and seemed to form itself around the impossibly tall trees of the ancient wood. It stretched impossibly wide, and you couldn’t tell quite how long the building stretched on.

There were several guard bees at the entrance. You recognized one of them as a bee-men you had met at the music festival. They saw you and Rena and immediately moved aside, Rena pushing you through the door. She eventually grabbed your hand and started to guide you through what seemed like tunnels.

The ceiling shone with a faint light, much like the inside of the shed you had visited once. You weren’t able to do much. You were out of breath from your running when you eventually made it to a large room with a high ceiling. You could see about thirty bee-men, scattered around this way and that. Many of them met your eyes, looks of pity, and despair settling in the ridges between their eyebrows and noses. You kept on, until Rena brought you through another tunnel, passing room after room. Finally, it seemed you had made it to where you were supposed to be and you saw a figure slumped down in a small alcove in the wall. You’d recognize these those wings anywhere.

“Lyith!” You yelled, running to his side. You turned him over, and you were taken with a strange forbidden feeling  pulsing its way into your head. It was like a current was pushing at the dam of your mind, waiting to break. Lyiths usual, lemon-grapefruit sent had turned sour, like he was rotting. He was pulling in breath after breath, like his lungs couldn’t hold onto any of it. His limbs shook and twitched. He didn’t seem to be aware of anything going on in the room.

“He smells like decaying magic. Whats going on Rena.” You knew what she would say, but refused to believe it.”

“Lyith can’t handle his own mana right now. It's not compatible with his body anymore.” Rena’s eyes were filled with tears.

“But that only happens when you guys are starved for magic right? Haven told me! You guys have been able to get more magic from my honey, why is he…” Your face was hot and your mouth was dry.

“He was very weak before he started getting nutrients. His body didn’t build strength quick enough to adjust to the influx of energy..”

“But you guys were descended from gods right? You're like demigods! Can’t you heal him?”

“The problem isn’t his physical body, it’s his magical one. The structure around his magic is too weak. Listen, Little One, there is still something we can do. You can do.”

Leith let out a gargling buzz. It sounded almost like he was choking.

“You can use your magic. I don’t know how it works, but your mana is very compatible with ours.” She took your hands and pulled them around Lyiths, pressing down firmly.

“There are two forms of magic when it comes to us. Our own magic, and our hives. His magic can’t handle the hives so its burning itself up trying to keep up. If you use your magic and join it to his for a while, you might be able to give him enough strength to endure for a time. But if you do this wrong, and add your magic to that of the hive…”

“It’ll overwhelm him. I’d kill him.”

“He’s already dying, (y/n).” This was the first time Rena had ever called you by name.

You stared out at Lyith’s face, wincing at how he was contorting in pain. It was just like Haven had described. His magic was burning him up.

You didn’t know if this would work, but you had to try. You carefully shook yourself from Rena’s grip, placing your hands onto Lyith’s cheeks. You concentrated on the feeling of magic. Immediately, your vision went starry. You were overwhelmed with white pulsing hot magic. It overtook all of your senses. It took everything you had to mentally claw and pull yourself up enough to be, let alone see. There was so much there. You immediately recognized the feeling of Rena’s mind, then Haven’s then that of so many others who had shared their feelings with you overtimes. You could feel their astonishment. The horror, the joy, the disturbed and the hopeful. You had to pull yourself out of it. This feeling must be the magic of the hive that Rena had been talking about.

You reached your awareness out further, concentrating on Lyith, but it was so hard to find him over the rushing current of magic. You eventually found his pain first, and followed it back to a racing, burning hot feeling. You grasped onto it with all of your might. You reached around and tried to feel out where Lyith began and the rest of the hive began, but it took time. Too much time.

You eventually grasped him, using your magic to form a barrier around his consciousness and the magic that surrounded him. There was no physical realm in your eyes, just magic, and you slowly started to piece your own mana out to his, watching it trickle around him. You could see it then, the structures, the geometry that made him up, like he was a log cabin and his wooden beams were burning. 

Yes! That was it! You saw it now. 

Slowly, you pushed your magic into his structure, fortifying it, adding layers of concrete to his wood. That little pool of energy inside you became a well, and you added it to the weakest parts of the house. A wall had already collapsed so you concentrated on building that up again, using the ash that had already been burnt. The fire, the fire burning the house was trying to consume you too, it hurt, almost forcing your mind back into your body. 

“Little witch please be careful.” Lyith whispered in your ear. But you didn’t have a body, you were a well. The voice had been weak. Too weak. You needed to heal him, build him up again. You continued to work, fueled by your desperate need not to see him die. You gave your magic over to him, and suddenly he wasn’t a house anymore but a garden. LIke your garden! You could feel him completely around you. His breath was your wind, his body the soil.

But his garden was decayed. His flowers were wilted, the stalks browning. You couldn’t leave him like that. Not your Lyith.

“Slow down.” You heard him hiss, from somewhere you couldn’t quite see. A part of you was happy, he was finally awake somewhat. But you were not done yet, you needed to heal him. You took that pool of energy that was inside of yourself and got to work. It was easy, you had done this so often, building up the flowers and letting them grow. Letting them heal.

It felt good. A warm excitement filled your consciousness, urging you on. There was no pain here. Usually when you expel your magic it weakened you. But this. This felt good. Like that ease in your muscles after a good walk.

You continued to build up the garden. You could feel Lyith everywhere. He could feel his strength returning as you worked. The burning fire had turned to a warm summer heat, perfect for growing. 

“You know not what you do little one, I am well, you have to--” He let out a moan. Something within you stirred. He had told you to stop but you could feel him. Feel his mind and his truth. He didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you to stop. You pushed your mind further against him, like a cat rubbing their head against their owner. There was a building of the summer heat coursing through him, through you, and you wanted more. 

You pushed at him, mushed your magic into his garden, totally invading his senses. All you wanted him to think about was you, feel you. And he did. The more magic you channeled into him, the more the excitement built, searing hot pleasure flooding all of your senses. You weren’t sure if it was his or yours. You wanted more. You pushed against him again. You didn’t stop, all you felt was pleasure mounting. Hot needy pleasure. The garden you had made was healed now. His magic was sturdy, strong, healthy. You had done it! You had healed him, and you were together and--

The pulsating, beating heat crescendoed and you cried out, he cried out, and then all you felt and all you two were was ecstasy. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you rode out your high. It was amazing, delicious and your body ached. Your body.. Slowly, your senses came back to you. You had a body. You could feel it now. Toes and fingers and eyes. You could see. And what you saw was Lyith under you, his beautiful eyes glazed over, drool trailing out of his mouth. His skin was hot under your fingertips. During your work you had straddled him. Your underwear was warm, wet, and you could feel a bulge pushing up against your clothed entrance. Your awareness finally pulled away from his and your mind was your own again.

Except it wasn’t wasn’t exactly yours anymore. You felt the ghost of a bond in the back of your head. A bond that trailed back to Lyith. You had done something that couldn’t be undone.

You felt Lyiths large sturdy hands squeeze your thighs. Affection and and loud, resilient devotion. You could taste it on the air, as you focused on it, it overwhelmed all your senses.

“My Queen. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He breathed out, his voice still ragged.

Queen?

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You pulled back, pushing your body off of Lyith and against the wall of the cot. Your tired, sore body was weakening, as the realization of what you had just done crashed upon you.

“I… I only meant to heal you.”

Lyith looked at you with soft eyes, before pulling himself up to face you.

“And you did. You did it perfectly. But it worked a little too well. You shouldn’t have been able to do that. Not like this.” He reached forward and cradled your hands.

“But it happened.” He pulled your hands to cup his cheeks. He stared at you, his expression complicated. You knew if you pulled on the bond it would all be open to you, every little complicated emotion. There was a tickle in your mind. He wanted you to feel how he felt.

There was sadness, for causing you pain. Ache and relief, to finally have you, pride, to be able to call you his, and for you to call him yours. Bewilderment, that your power was such that you could ensnare him in such a way, and curiosity of how the two of you would maneuver through this. And there was an instinctual part, buzzing and excited to finally have a queen to serve, to breed-”

Okay that was probably a little too far! You pulled back enough for a bit of embarrassment to pass across his face. But he held your gaze. He had shown you all of his truth and you loved him for it. 

“Well, this has been a really wild afternoon.” Rena said, loud enough to break up your scene.

The horror of realizing Rena had just witnessed everything and probably felt it too, made you choke on the air in your throat. Your already hot face charged up to a solar flare.

She was sitting down, leaning against the wall. A feral smirk on her face, both pairs of arms crossed around her chest. One finger was slowly, meaningfully tapping against her arm.

“Well, um-- you see-- it was an accident!” You sputtered, pulling away from Lyiths grasp to the end of the bed. You didn’t look at Lyith, only tried to explain the words of what happened but not finding them.

Rena suddenly stood up, her stance strong as she purposefully stalked towards your end of the bed. Her gaze was burning, a hungry smile on her face as she leaned down, and tilted your chin up with a black finger.

“Little One, only Queens can bond to a Bee-men like that. For a Human, we would have to spend weeks prepping you before you could even manage to attempt what you have done.”

She moved forward, putting both of her knees outside of yours, leaning over you with a fire in her eyes.

“I knew there was something different about you. I want to know what, and I want you to do that again.” Her bottom set of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush to her. Her other hand gripped your shoulder.

Your heart was roaring now, and you looked to Lyith for help. He was watching with amusement, leaning back against the headboard wall of the cot. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in his features or his mind.  Whatever was going on, he was definitely down for it. 

You swallowed thickly.

“C-can’t we t-take a moment to think this over?” 

She ignored you, her gaze straying to your lips. The hands at your waist started to roam, gently moving up and down, one wandered to the hem of your shirt, the other cupping the curve of your ass and rubbing through the fabric.

You tried not to let your arousal show, starting to tremble under her ministrations, as she watched you with her triumphant, molten gaze.

“Lyith may have been yours first, but I won’t let him have you to himself.” She leaned forward and gently bit down on the curve of your ear. Your breath hitched and you had to keep yourself from mewling.

 “I’m yours too, you know?” She said this part gently, an earnestness made its way into your mind. It felt like how she smelled and you leaned into it. 

If you were truly a Queen now, there was no going back. Things had changed since you had bonded with Lyith. Rena was someone you treasured too. She was arrogant and sweet, and she had always been kind in the ways that mattered.

Well. What was one more anyway? You thought, closing your eyes and leaning your body into Rena’s. She let out a triumphant trill, Then slowly started dragging her impossibly long textured tongue up your neck. 

“I’m going to show you how we normally prepare a human queen.” She purred. Her arms moved to pull up your shirt as you felt the cot move under you. Lyith had moved from his spot from the end of the bed, and had situated himself behind you, his own arms curling around your hips, playing with the edges of your pants.

“While this looks very fun, I’m not the type to just sit and watch.” He sang out in a low voice. Rena huffed and rolled her eyes. But she continued to undress you, long fingers hitching around your bra and freeing your breasts. She leaned back and looked at them, purring the whole time.

Well. It looked like you were in for a long night.

Part Six (Beware NSFW)

[the-kr8tor]

Autumn Shopping

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: A late afternoon shopping with Hobie.

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is taller than r), CW food mentions, reader loves autumn, BF! Hobie, FLUFF.

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Octobie 🎸

You both prefer to shop at the local grocer that has been passed down through generations. It's cozy and homely without all the harsh white fluorescent lights that whir, and the god awful brutalist corporate designs. Instead, the place smells of freshly baked cinnamon bread, and the interior feels like it's been well loved and taken care of through the years.

Hobie comes here ever since he was a kid, he practically grew up in the place and even worked in it when he was younger. And so far, you've made it your home too. Everyone knows you by name, and you know everyone. But every time you accompany him to the store, he needs to corral you away from buying things that are definitely not in the list. Mostly its sweets, or a glass cleaner that looks awfully like pink lemonade. He lets you indulge of course, who could say no to you whenever you flash those puppy dog eyes at him? But this time, there's no winning the battle nor the war with all the autumn themed merchandise on display.

He knows the moment you step into the double doors that you'll be whisked away towards the decorations in front like some old timey cartoon character who floats in the air with hearts in their eyes when a pie is near.

His hand holds your own in an attempt to guide you away from the soft orange and browns of the display, but there's no winning when there's a free taste stand right next to it.

“Hobie!” You tug him towards Cynthia, who's wearing an orange apron with a pumpkin on it. She immediately smiles and waves you over, gloved hand already procuring a sample of whatever cinnamon smelled sweet she has. “They brought it back for the season!”

“It's not goin’ anywhere, love.” He can't help but chuckle at your determined face as you continue to practically drag him on the floor. His boots add weight, you know.

“They might run out of them!” You sniff at the tray full of sweetened tiny pieces of said pastry. It's still warm, and the melting sugar on top makes your mouth water. “They look so good.” You gasp, hand still holding Hobie's.

“Remember, love, we only came for toothpaste and bread.”

“This is bread, Hobie.” You smirk, and Hobie sighs in endearment at your excitement. “Besides, it's free! Right, Cynthia?”

“Absolutely, if you like it gramps is baking a new batch right now and it'll be finished in just a few.” She answers, already giving you a couple of samples to share with Hobie. “Hey, kid, how's the band going?” She addresses Him with a bright smile.

“They’re good, Ned wants to say thanks for the tip with the mechanic.”

“No worries.” Cynthia waves him off while you munch on the pastry. Hobie eyes how you eat both samples with gusto. “Flash is a dick anyway, he needed a reality check with his prices— careful, sweetheart, you might choke.” Chuckling, she hands you a napkin and you promptly wipe your lips free of sugar and crumbs.

“‘Hanks!” You mumble while still chewing. Turning to face Hobie, swallowing, you smile at his amused grin. “We need a box of these right now or I'll eat the whole tray.”

Wiping cinnamon dust off the corner of your lips with his thumb, Hobie rubs it on your shirt collar teasingly. “That's for eatin’ my sample.”

You shake your head with a lopsided grin, “Wasted opportunity, Hobs.” Hobie raises his brow questioningly. But before he could ask what you meant, you're already thanking Cynthia while you whisk him away towards the whole aisle that contains all the autumn and Halloween decorations.

Hobie pulls you mid stride, your trainers squeak against the tiles, and your back meets his chest. “What did you mean by that, hm?” He whispers in your ear as you hobble towards the aisle with his warm arms around you.

“Nothing.” You say in a sing-song tone.

“Nothin'?” He nudges your temple with his nose, and you ignore him as you take a pumpkin shaped pillow, squeezing it in your hands. He snatches the pillow from you and places it on the top shelf where you can't reach it. “Nothin' isn't just nothin’ with you, lovie.”

“Hey!” Huffing, you tilt your head back, facing him as he looks at you with softness akin to the pillow you were just holding. You look at him through your lashes, smile getting wider every time his eyes narrow at you accusingly. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Tell me and I'll let you buy one thing in this aisle.” He jokes with a ghost of a smile.

“Let me?!” You scoff, twisting around to face him properly. With your palms on his chest you pat him to the rhythm of the pop song that's playing in the speakers. “You know damn well that I will buy this entire aisle just to spite you.”

He chuckles as he cups your cheeks. “You'll go bankrupt.” He got the right reaction from you.

“I don't care, I'm supporting a family business.” You raise your nose at him, and he squeezes your nose in between his fingers.

He bets that if he kisses you right now he'll be able to taste the cinnamon on your lips. “C’mon, what did I waste?”

You grab his wrist to pull his hand away from your nose, giggling at his stubbornness. “You really want to know?”

“No, I don't.” He says sarcastically.

“Fine,” you mimic his tone. “What I meant back there was that, you should've tried the frosting when you wiped it from my lip.”

Hobie's smile widens, and he guffaws so loudly that it echoes around the whole store. There might not be a lot of people shopping right now but you still put your palm on his mouth to quiet his laughter even though you love his laugh to bits. You practically did it against your will so you two don't get kicked out like what happened a year ago. You still cringe whenever you remember it.

“Stop laughing!” You say while giggling. His laughter is muffled under your hand. Arms wrap around your waist, and he leads you towards the autumn scented candles further down the aisle. “Where are you taking me?” Looking over your shoulder, you smile affectionately at his wordless gesture.

“Or you could've fed me my share of the sample instead of eatin’ it all.” Hobie moves his head back to remove your hand away from his mouth all without taking his hands off of your waist. “You read too many romance novels, love.” He teases, he loves it when you read it to him whenever he wants to fill the silence.

“Apparently not a lot.” You lean closer to peck his jaw chastely. “It got you weak in the knees though, right?”

He can't deny how his heartbeat quickened ten fold when you suggested it. He'll tuck that idea you gave him in his mind and maybe he'll do it when you least expect it. “Go sniff your bloody candles.”

“Such a romantic.” You pat his cheek before you turn towards the glass candles. As you sniff at a pinkish candle, you hear shuffling from behind you. “You know that I have to get that pillow, right?”

Something soft and orange hits the side of your face, “and we still need toothpaste or we'll start brushing our teeth with your candles.” He says as you squeal and cuddle the pumpkin throw pillow all the while wanting to kiss him right in the middle of the aisle.

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[kunaigirl]

Long post ahead, but I really want to talk about this...I think? Oh lord here we go, lol. Anyways, confession time!

I struggled with illiteracy and learning to read for a chunk of my life. I've mentioned it (in passing) in this post that I made about my experiences with having epilepsy, but I decided to make an whole post just for this for a change.

Somewhere around when I was in the second grade, I lost my ability to read and write due to a bad seizure I had. (That combined with the medications I was given too.) A lot of my memories are blank from that era, except for a very few instances I remember clearly. What I do remember though, has nothing to do with the seizure or even what lead up to it, all of that's still gone to this day.

I had lost my ability to read, and also was diagnosed with dyslexia during the quest to re-learn from scratch. (On top of already being diagnosed with ADHD when I was about 6.) I remember very vividly how HORRIBLE everything felt. I couldn't remember the names of things, and I had to re-learn, from preschool up, both reading and writing from scratch.

Somewhat luckily, I didn't lose anything else besides those chunks of memories and my ability to read, and I still remembered who I was, what cartoons I liked, my favorite music, etc. But suddenly, I couldn't read the CD titles anymore. I couldn't read the VHS covers. It was gone, ripped away from me very suddenly, and I knew it was missing. I knew that I already learned how to read and write, but it was forced out of me by a malfunctioning brain. I was home schooled because of it from grades 3rd-5th. (2003-2005)

In the third grade, I had made just enough progress to get books for 5 year olds. Everyone around me acted so proud, but all I could do was cry. I was humiliated. I felt so incredibly stupid, as being illiterate leaves you with no choice but to feel stupid. I threw those baby books around my room and sat on the floor crying. It wasn't fair, I didn't do anything wrong, it was my damn seizures. I had no control.

When I went back to public school for 6th grade, I got called stupid, the r-slur, illiterate, slow, basically every name in the book. Both kids and adults, all throughout those years while I continued to re-learn in real time. In middle school, my reading level was still low for my age, and I had to be in a special program with extra assistance and teacher accommodations. As soon as word got out, the kids were RELENTLESS. It was 06-07, nobody cared about bullying/etc, especially for a public middle school. The bullying never stopped.

I kept working and studying, slowly making progress. Years of struggling, learning to cope, inventing my own short-cuts to help read a little easier, using rulers and paper edges to help guide my eyes, everything. I was still in "special" classes with accommodations all through high school too. My senior year of high school, I graduated on the honor role list. Did that make me happy? It felt nice for sure, but better? Not by much. I knew how hard I still struggled, and still felt very embarrassed by it all. I'll never forget.

As a kid, the pain I felt was so intense. Physically from the seizure, and in every other way with having to re-learn how to spell t-r-e-e. Starting over with pre-K toddler books at 7. Kindergarten level at age 8, and a first grade level as a 9 year old. The feeling of having my memories ripped away just enough to leave me unable to recognize the symbols that decorated everything from posters to TV to book covers. Being told by a room full of doctors and neurologists what had happened, and being quizzed and tested to see what I still had left.

I have never forgotten those long nights. Even though I was a child, the shame and guilt and fear I felt were VERY real and very tense. And the jokes/remarks from both kids AND adults, the notebooks filled with raw squiggly anger, the uphill climb to regain what was taken from me. I will NEVER forget it. Even in college, I struggled with those heavy textbooks and their tiny fonts. I did well enough, but no one else struggled the way I did with them. I did my work and wrote my essays, but it would take full entire days. It still does.

At times, as an adult, I still get stuck on words. I can obviously read and write again, as you can see with this exact post, but it's not over. I struggle with certain fonts, and some books are just to difficult. I still work at it and still try as hard as I can even to this very goddamn day. It never truly ended, all these years later, 20 years later, I still sometimes fight to understand. I feel like an angry and humiliated kid again in those moments, but I'm not that kid or teen anymore. I lived thought it somehow.

I had a dream back when I was 17, where I'm standing in from of my 9 year old self and that pile of baby books. She's crying and looking at me, desperately. I walk over and hug her, proudly telling her "We read The Great Gatsby in high school, and we understand it."

To anyone who has struggled with illiteracy at non-toddler-points in their lives, I see you. To anyone who's struggled with reading comprehension, I see you. To anyone who struggled with writing, I see you. We don't talk about it enough, and I want to change that. I don't want to hide that side of my life experience anymore. Fuck shame, we climbed out of it.

And to this day, a copy of "The Great Gatsby" is still on my shelf. Because I read it in high school, and 9 year old me would've thought that was the coolest achievement ever.

[mclalan]

What art program do you use? sorry if you already answered something like this but im so mesmerized by the techniques you use in your art.

Thank you. No need to apologise; I don't mind answering this question because it's an excuse to walk through my latest image!

The concept for this piece is based on being perceived online through interpretations of posts and artwork, yet how artificial this can be. The relationship the viewer forms is more with the narrative of the work, and any insight into the artist through this feels highly awkward to me, which is precisely what I want to explore with this piece.

In this example, I wanted an attractive sitter to look like someone out of a new romantics music video or like an Enya video, because this genre and era of media is very aesthetically pleasing and nostalgic for me. I hold it as an unobtainable ideal— a hauntology. So, as wonderful as it is, it equally feels shameful and perverse because it's an aesthetic object of desire that I am contriving.

The sitter is holding one of my cartoon characters, Lauren Ipson, the protagonist of my Ersatz world project. A trope in writing is when a character acts as a self-insert of the author, and I'm conscious to try and avoid that with Lauren. I try to write Lauren as dry and sardonic yet also fun, dramatic, and friendly. I don't think of these as personal qualities of my own, but I imagine personal qualities bleeding into fictional characters is inevitable.

Yet Lauren Ipson feels much more alive a character to me compared to any attempt at self-portraiture or self-expression that I've done, which is very little because I'm not interested in constructing a perceivable identity. (I'm aware this text itself can be interpreted as self-expression; however, to me this is just another construct.)

So Is the sitter meant to be me, controlling Lauren? I'm definitely baiting the viewer to think this, and you can interpret it that way if you want, but really I don't think of the sitter as me at all. My intention is to show how it's all a facarde. The sitter is basically just as much a doll, a puppet, a mannequin as Lauren Ipson is, if anything more so.

There's a deliberate irony between Lauren's cartoon rendering and the sitter, who I wanted to render with more detail and evoke a modernist style. I'm inspired by Hans Bellmer and Dorothea Tanning with their work with dolls. However, despite that implied visual hierarchy, the more detailed sitter shares a similar, stilted vector construct to Lauren. They're both born from vector drawing after all. And it's further undermined with the way Lauren the doll looks directly at the viewer, as if she's alive, while the sitter looks to the side with a blank, almost dead-in-the-eyes expression.

Anyway, with that in mind, almost all of my work starts as a thumbnail sketch. Although I often draft digitally and am fine with doing that, I feel more confident doing it freehand on paper. Digital rendering feels more like a refinement process to me. Funnily enough, although I often prefer to sketch with physical materials, I'm anxious of refining or rendering with them.

I like my designs to be very direct and conceivable, so a solid silhouette, pose, negative space etc. I often create a quick digital sketch with this in mind, either by tracing or referencing the thumbnail, although sometimes I skip this step and go straight to the rendered drawing. The aim is to establish a visual guide, dividing the drawing into various shapes for digital airbrush rendering later on.

With this composition, I made a second draft with more attention to details such as the face, hands and feet. Sometimes I'll use photo references if I'm struggling with posing or anatomy. These drafts are often blue because it's easier to render the black linework over a transparent blue sketch.

The chair took some time but was relatively simple to render. It uses the line tool set to magnetic anchor point, following two-point perspective vanishing points. I like two-point perspective because it feels sort of digitally native to me to have these impossibly perfect vertical lines. I also know the horizon line should be at eye level or something, but I just like the idea of the top of the chair to be perfectly horizontal.

Here I'm drawing the final rendered form. I use the stroke tool with it set as smooth as possible. Often I'll redraw lines over and over if it means getting certain curves to look right. Once the lines are drawn, I'll fill them in and remove the stroke, leaving just the solid vector shape. The shade of grey I use is done to simply denote the shape. It does not represent any kind of shading or anything; in fact, when I bring it into Photoshop, all these shapes are set to the same shade, but if I had that here in Animate as I'm drawing, it would be impossible to see what I'm doing. The red background is just for clarity.

Once it's all drawn, I'll make sure every shape is clean, overlapping nicely, and divided into its own layer. A composition can often be comprised of hundreds of separate shapes.

Each shape will be its own layer in Photoshop, which will operate as a clipping mask. The clipping masks act like masking tape or shielded off areas for soft brush opacity rendering, similar to the soft atomised rendering from an airbrush, just done digitally.

I follow very rudimentary painting techniques of simple shading, lighting, and bounce-back highlights. I follow a simplified Grisaille technique, focusing on strong values in greyscale before adding a wash of colour with a color gradient map set to layer style color. Sometimes my values can be a little off, but as long as the values are all consistently acting together, I can correct them with transparent washes or color curves. If the greyscale looks harmonious with all the forms clear, colour will likely work.

Proper digital painters will say this is an amateur process, with results that look mechanical and stiff, as colours in the real world all bounce together off different surfaces, resulting in colour harmonies. However, I don't mind the inharmonious nature of the colours, as I find the values give the composition enough harmony. I'm working digitally, so why go to all the effort to make it not look digital? It's interesting to me to have the red chair look blindingly red, the green skirt look blindingly green.

Colours can look boring without some form of harmony though, so I will add in blue-greens with the darker areas, more turquoise greens towards the highlights.

Skin tones are far more complex, however, as it's something that's more informed by realism. This is why kigurumi dolls with their plastic flesh look so artificial to the eye, because we're familiar with how light passes through flesh and skin and all the subtleties of colour that it picks up. This piece is the first time I've explored flesh tones, as typically I avoid all this by rendering skin as grey porcelain.

I needed to really up the contrast, with shaded areas becoming purples and highlights verging on washed out. Areas with more blood, like feet and cheeks, appear more orange and red. Areas closer to bone and cartilage, like the bridge of the nose, can look almost blue and green. Exploring these colour values and tints in the aim of natural tones was fun to do, and ironic given how blank the face is.

Although in the moment I feel very much like I'm rendering a realistic reality, when I step back, I'm reminded how stylised and unrealistic the painting actually is. It looks kind of insane, like everything is so uniform and overtly saturated. It doesn't feel present in a real space, despite the shadow and form implies one. But I'm not consciously thinking of these things, of style, as I'm working. To me, it's a process of world-building and problem-solving.

[leportraitducadavre]

Ino and Sakura

It's often said that Sakura cut off her ties with Ino for more reasons than just Sasuke. For some fans, she even did it because Ino was pushing her down purposefully in order to be always on top.

In that sense, and while this post has been written in another response, the other one will soon become a monster too huge to control, so I'll leave this here for better access and to better expand their relationship for those who are interested.

A warning you should know: Many images are shown while others are linked (pay attention to the underlined-bold words, they'll guide you to the image analyzed).

Despite the claims introduced before, on the panels we were shown their previous relationship during their childhood at no point did Ino seem to downgrade Sakura -either physically or mentally-, on the contrary, she's constantly shown trying to lift her spirits, like when she complements her looks:

Let the world see that pretty face!! Strike a pose!

At no point did Ino downgrade Sakura or put herself above; telling Sakura to show confidence doesn’t automatically put her in a higher position in their friendship.

To explain myself further: providing help when someone needs it isn’t the same as putting oneself in a morally or physically superior position. Their relationship is of equals regardless of Ino supplying emotional support. The fact that Sakura inwardly elevates Ino's relevance in their dynamic isn’t Ino’s responsibility as everything Sakura thinks of Ino is never expressed (translated, Ino isn't aware of her position inside their friendship, as she's never told her relevance). Furthermore, Ino never states that she considers herself attractive or prettier than Sakura herself, every time they speak on the matter Ino tells Sakura to be more confident as she has a "pretty face".

Him! Hah! He just struts around, acting like he’s so cool.

At no moment does Ino seem upset at Sakura for liking the same boy, in fact, she chooses to lie about how she feels for Sasuke in order not to start a conflict. This is, of course, not specified in canon, but since Ino doesn't display her feelings for Sasuke and, quite the contrary, she criticizes him, it's safe to assume she lied about her feelings.

And even if Ino is upset about Sakura liking the same boy as her, something that is neither expressed nor shown, she doesn’t act around it.

Furthermore, Sakura engages in conversations with Ino about Sasuke (Hey, Ino! Sasuke seems to like girls with long hair, so I’m going to grow mine…) and it doesn’t seem as if Ino dismisses the subject out of jealousy.

Everyone says you’re after Sasuke too, Ino…

I'm aware that some fans, specifically S//S and Saku-Ino fans, claim that Sakura assumed Ino liked Sasuke and Ino, in retaliation, started to like him back to make Sakura jealous (?), however, unlike those fans who think Ino's whole character revolves around Sakura (she is, indeed, a supporting character of her, but she outgrew her role to the point where she's barely seen with Sakura after the Chünin Exams) I do believe that Ino truly liked Sasuke and that she was indeed surprised by Sakura having equal feelings for him.

[I will here say that, personally, those who diminish Ino's feelings for Sasuke to use that "lesser" type of love (there's nothing like a "lesser" type of love, there're different ways to love someone. Caring for someone romantically doesn't reflect equally on each individual), as a justification why Sakura "deserved" Sasuke are carrying a sexist view inside their reading of the manga: Cartoon or not, Ino is still a representation of a woman yet, for them, she isn't as valuable as Sakura because she loved Sasuke in a different manner she did.

They're measuring Ino, Karin, and even Sakura's value by the way they display their respective feelings for a man.

In the same manner, Karin, who shows more sexual desire for Sasuke (I will not deny her romantical feelings, but she is clearly more driven by her sexual interest in him), is not less of a woman or less deserving of being with him because of the nature of her feelings.

There's no such thing as a "suffering-meter" that determines which character suffered the most out of love and, therefore, who deserves a happy ending with the object of their affection. That not only links love's nature primarily to suffering but also measures a person's romantic value in terms of how much pain they can endure (either for their significant other or provoked by their significant other).]

Again, Ino doesn’t act around her feelings for Sasuke (in the next flashback Ino -despite knowing Sasuke likes girls with long hair, keeps her own hair short) nor around her friend's attraction.

It was Sakura the one who decided to break their friendship because someone (unspecified) told her Ino liked Sasuke in the same way she did.

This is how we learn about their breakup:

Chapter 53

If it's true... that makes us rivals!

Keep in mind that, until then, we only knew Ino was Sakura’s rival, it's Shikamaru the one that introduces the idea of Sakura and Ino being best friends once, and we have these panels to understand a little bit more about their prior relationship.

This rumor is, in fact, truthful as they do become rivals -so why would Ino allow this break-up if she truly didn't like Sasuke? It makes absolutely no sense, meaning that this theory of Ino faking her attraction to Sasuke is completely false, as she canonically is infatuated with him. Furthermore, when confronted, she chooses not to lie about her romantic interest in him to Sakura. The expression of Ino when hearing Sakura’s words is “uh-oh!”, which means she was keeping her feelings secret from her friend.

In chapter 54, we have a sneak peek at Sakura’s development as a ninja: After Naruto and Sasuke fight Orochimaru (and pass out), and Lee sacrifices his well-being in order to save her from the Oto team, Sakura cuts her hair as to free herself from Kin’s hold. Up to this point, we know this part is significant because of what Sakura thinks before doing it, but by Ino’s reaction, there’s something far deeper going on (Hey, Ino! Sasuke seems to like girls with long hair, so I’m going to grow mine…).

Her attack against Zaku isn't successful and, after barely hurting him, she has no more energy to continue (so she bites him). And here's when we have Ino’s flashback:

Chapter 54 - The flashback continues but all have been addressed previously.

The rivalry was started solely by Sakura. There’s no denying that Ino took up on that rivalry and started to act consequentially, but she wasn’t the one initiating it.

"I noticed your hair is lot longer, Ino" "What is it to you, Sakura?!!"

Let's acknowledge something, in this specific panel, it was Sakura who started their interaction (in a hostile manner, also) because she wanted to tell Ino about her position in Team 7.

She assumed Ino grew her hair long because of Sasuke -it isn't clear when was their fallout, but it must have been years prior to their graduation, so either they didn't see each other as much (or at all) since they went their separate ways, or Ino grew her hair long shortly after the beginning of the show, so there were at least a few years after their breakup when she still has her hair short.

It's safe to assume Ino did, in fact, keep her hair long for Sasuke's sake, yet it's not confirmed she did so to appeal to him, as she keeps growing it after his departure and it's shown how most people of her clan have their hair in a ponytail style, including her father.

So Ino, you'll never beat me now.

Despite some translations stating that Sakura said “I won’t lose to you anymore” (we were shown at no point in the manga how Sakura exactly lost against Ino), the official translation states otherwise -Sakura never exactly “lost” against Ino, nor Ino against Sakura.

Sakura's statement is based on Sasuke being on the same team as her, therefore, for this fact alone, Ino will never "win". Their whole rivalry is based on Sasuke. Now that Sakura is assigned to the same team as him, she has a better chance of winning his romantic reciprocation, therefore, Sakura's prospects are better than her rival's, which makes her the sole winner.

Yet, regardless of their mutual hostility, Ino still jumps to save her former friend, which means that she still has a deep connection with Sakura. Her face when remembering their childhood was a deeply troubled one, perhaps even mournful. In addition, by this point, Sasuke is unconscious: He isn’t able to see Ino’s heroic act, something Ino is aware of yet acts as if that is the sole reason why she jumped in.

After the fight, we have these panels:

To put some context: Naruto asks Sakura who “these guys are” when seeing Shikamaru, Chöji, Lee, and Ino; and after Sakura “thanks them”, Ino thinks that she’s selling herself short. Ino is shown constantly either telling Sakura or thinking of her as someone pretty and capable yet still self-conscious, even tho Sakura would have likely died had Ino and Team 10 not intervened, as Sasuke awoke after their tactic failed. Ino and Team 10 were saved by Team Gai and Sasuke, not Sakura.

During their fight in the preliminary rounds (CH 71), Sakura is particularly cruel:

First of all, she claims control and power of decision-making over a boy who has rejected her advances twice and who's not even present at the moment (he could, and honestly would, easily deny them both of the romantical reciprocation they sought). She starts their fight by trying to downgrade both Ino’s self-esteem (physically) and status in their “rivalry” (which she claims is now non-existent, as Sakura is the "winner" by being in the same team as Sasuke) -Ino’s words are a response to Sakura’s attitude.

[Kakashi saying that Sakura isn’t mean doesn’t make it automatically true -first, Kakashi doesn’t know Sakura that well as to claim she wouldn’t bully a person just because (she often displayed such an attitude towards Naruto during their first interactions, particularly when she told Sasuke that Naruto was annoying because he was parentless, Kakashi saw and knew none of that). Second, what he knows about Ino and Sakura’s relationship is what he read on a piece of paper -he knows nothing about how they actually interacted, nothing about their “power imbalance”, and, furthermore, he does nothing about Sakura’s insecurities -he hoped that Sakura would come around when the Chünin Exams came, but the whole reason she did so was because of Sasuke’s support.]

Sakura internally acknowledges Ino’s relevance in her life (1 and 2) yet none of that is actually told to Ino -who’s left in the dark. The last impression she possesses of Sakura is about her not being good enough to maintain a friendship outside their respective crushes on the same boy. Sakura, even without them being friends, still seeks Ino’s acknowledgment -the only one who is then made to do something for their relationship is Ino.

Personal opinion: Sakura hasn’t surpassed Ino. Much less at this point in the manga.

It’s Sakura the one who makes their rivalry just about Sasuke (here), while Ino states that she will not allow her to “show her up” (thus, for her, it seems to be more than just their shared crush on a boy, even during Asuma's last speech he tells her not to allow Sakura to win in "ninjutsu and love"), Sakura solely focuses on being on the same team as Sasuke as a signal of superiority; something she did absolutely nothing to gain as it was mere luck:

The teams are to be balanced and that’s why they put the dead last (Naruto) with the Rookie of the Year (Sasuke), there’s no canonical mention of Sakura’s part in the matter. The belief that she was put there because she was the “brightest” is a fanon belief (x). Furthermore, according to the Report Cards in the First Fanbook, Ino was behind Sasuke; making her the second-best overall and the best kunoichi amongst them (x).

Furthermore, Kakashi specifically visits Naruto's house alongside the Hokage who introduces him to the team he'll be leading, and at no moment do they even mention Sakura.

Meanwhile Ino, canonically speaking, would never be put on the same team as Sasuke, as she's the Yamanaka heir -her destiny was always to be with Chöji and Shikamaru.

Here

I’m not your little tag-along anymore Ino

Sakura says this in order to gain an emotional reaction -Ino is shocked by the words because she's never shown to consider Sakura to be what her former friend claims she used to be. Sakura is then painting the memories of their relationship in a negative light, downgrading it. What for Ino was a real friendship, to Sakura was a relationship of power.

[This is not a negative thing per se, Sakura needed a support system that Ino provided as she was too shy to socialize with anyone. What she's saying now is that she doesn't need Ino in order to interact with others. For Sakura is a positive thing, as she probably hated being "Ino's tag along", however, that doesn't change the negative impact that it has on Ino who never saw Sakura as a burden.]

Sakura's views of their dynamic diminish its relevance in her life and put Ino in the wrong (almost making her the abusive side of the relationship). Ino never reached for Sakura in order to make her her “tag-along”, Sakura was the one who put herself in that position.

I'm not blatantly denying Sakura's views on their former friendship, but from what we can see in canon, those views are either a lie she tells Ino to emotionally drag her during their match (stated before by Kakashi, she wants Ino to take her seriously), or a twisted version of the events transpired.

Much like with Sasuke, the fact that Sakura puts the weight of her well-being on another person’s shoulders means that she’s not responsible for the outcome or what her actions might entail: That’s why she makes Ino responsible for their fallout -hadn’t Ino liked the same boy, she wouldn’t have ended their relationship.

Sakura calling Ino a witch.

At the end of their fight, is Ino who -again, reaches out to Sakura and waits for her to wake, and, again: She gives her support.

We have a new interaction between them in CH 93 -where we see both of them visiting Sasuke in the hospital and bringing him a flower, there, we get to see them talking outside a ninja setting and inside Ino's flower shop.

1) It's established Sakura doesn't visit the flower shop until then.

2) They still bicker over Sasuke, the basis of their relationship hasn't changed after the Chünin Exams, but they seem to get along better.

3) Sakura learned the flowers' meaning in order to compete with Ino.

They even sit together in CH 99 to see the one-on-one fights of the last round of the exams, and while both Ino and Sakura are equally concerned about Sasuke, it's Ino the one who tells Sakura to cheer Naruto on during his match. How is Ino this "bad person who diminished Sakura" when she shows nothing but concern for her crush (Sasuke), her former friend (Sakura), and her rival's teammate (Naruto)? Furthermore, in CH 105, Ino realizes Sakura's change in mood when she admits (internally) to being somewhat jealous of Naruto.

After Shikamaru's match, once Sasuke appears, Ino compliments Sakura's team, praising both Sasuke and Naruto; Sakura's reaction isn't shown as the main focus is Lee -who hears Ino speaking-, but it amazes me how many people try to paint Ino's character as "shallow" and a "bully" when she has done nothing but encourage and praise those around her even when they're not close enough to hear her.

Then, after Sasuke's Retrieval Arc, Ino even goes as far as to look for Sakura once Shimamaru's team returns (x), and she even prioritizes Chöji before Sasuke (who they don't know actually left, x). How is Ino such a shallow, careless monster (who doesn't truly care for Sakura) if she goes out of her way to find her and inform her of their friends' return? Wouldn't have she taken the opportunity to visit Sasuke by herself? Wouldn't she have chosen to visit her crush first rather than Chöji if she was that obsessed with him and against Sakura?

In a way, and this is not to diminish some of the writing problems the author has, Ino is a nice representation of how Kishimoto is actually capable of writing a girl with a simple crush on a boy, who still prioritizes friends and comrades above the man she likes. Sakura's behavior, therefore, can't be attributed to Kishimoto not "knowing how to write women", but to him giving Sakura specific characteristics that just happen to be disliked by the fandom. In retaliation, her stans decide to blame such personality traits on his "incapability" to write female characters before giving them the actual relevance they have over Sakura's character.

[babydolls-writing-space]

˚₊‧꒰ა [ 𝑨𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒕: 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕 ] ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

A = Affection (Are they an affectionate caregiver?) 

- Yes, Angel is a very loving and affectionate caregiver! He loves holding his little one in his arms and talking to them in a sweet baby voice 

B = Behave (Are they strict? What kind of warnings do they give before punishment is needed?)

- He isn't to strict but he dose give a bunch  of warning before doing anything. He doesn't believe in harsh punishments, the most you will get is no sweets, nap time or the timeout corner 

C = Clothing (How do they dress their little?) 

- He tries to match the style they love but he loves to dress his littles like him (soft colors yes still stylish). He loves when the two of you match  

D = Defense (Are they protective caregivers? Maybe overprotective even?) 

- I would say he is protective but not overly protective- like yes he keeps you away from gross people and out of harms way in general but he isn't overbearing.  

E = Express (How do they express their love?  What's their love language?) 

- I feel like angel has words of affirmation, gift giving, and physical touch. He loves making things for his little one such as deco pacis and little outfits. He also love holding his little one in his arms while praising them in a baby voice and just making sure that they are ok  

F = First (How was their first experience as the little's caregiver?) 

- It was a little bit of an experience to say the least. The first time he ever was a caregiver was when his little baby was sick with the flu. He made soup and got some juice for his little as well as medicine. After he was done he would wrap his little one in a blanky as he would rock them and try and get them to take a nap. 

G = Guide (Would they be a good teacher to their little? What would they teach them?) 

- I would say so, he would teach you how to love youself and accept that things happen that we cant control

H = Health (How do they make sure their little is healthy?) 

- They make sure that there eating well with planned / accessible snacks, bathtime,drinking lots of water,etc 

I = Intuitive (Can the caregiver feel when their little is regressing?) 

- Yes he can tell when you are regressing with little signs giving such as if you are watching your cartoons or if you have a stuffie with you.  

J = Jealous (Are they the jealous caregiver type?) 

- Honestly, he is a little jealous sometimes but i wouldnt say he is overbearing with it. It dose hurt him if you get another caregiver that he dosent really know or like. 

K= Kiss (Are they used to kiss their little? Where?) 

-  He loves to give forehead kisses and he will kiss your boo boos if you get hurt  

L = Listen (Do they enjoy listening to their little?) 

- Yes! He loves hearing his little one ramble on about there favorite cartoons or how there stuffie could rule the world if they really wanted to 

M = Moment (What's one of their favorite moments being a caregiver?) 

- He loves seeing how happy his littles get when he makes them something such as a deco paci or a piece of clothing  

N = Nurse (Could and would they nurse their little one? Or would they rather bottle feed them?)

-  I have a feeling if he could I would say no and he prefers to bottle feed anyways 

P = Pet Name (What pet name do they call their little? What pet name their little calls them?) 

Q = Quirk (Talk about a funny caregiver-quirk of them) 

- He knows how to throw the best little dance party ever! 

R = Rough (How do they punish their little? Is it rough or gentle?) 

- Gental always, he hates being mean towards you so if u do something bad he tries to talk to you about it first before anything or anyone  

S = Seasons (What are their favorite season to play with their little and why?) 

- Probably spring because its not to hot and not to cold and he can find more things to do such as play in the rain or go look at flowers 

T = Toys (Are they used to spoil their little with toys? Or they'd rather play with their little most of the time without toys?) 

- He dose tend to get his little quite a bit of toys but he also loves playing without them because it gives him and his little a chance to be more creative  

U = Useful (Is there anything they learned before becoming a caregiver that is *really* useful while caring for their little?) 

- He learned how to be patient with his little and to tell them that they are strong and that they are loved 

V = Vulnerable (Would they show vulnerability around their little?) 

For him i feel like it would be allowing his little to be in his lap and letting them play with his hair ( i feel angel would have a hard time with touch because of his job ) 

W = Weep (What is their reaction when their little starts crying?) 

- He runs over and picks his little one up and rocks them to try and get them to stop crying while also asking them what's wrong 

X = Xtra (Write the headcanon of your choice) 

One time when angel had gotten off his work and went back to his room in the hotel he saw his little one on the floor surrounded by paper and art supplies as his little got up and showed him all the pictures he made for them 

Y = Yummy (Do they know how to cook? Do they enjoy cooking for their little?) 

- Im sorry but angel dose not know how to cook for the life of him- you get a lot of snacks and meals made by husk 

Z = Zzz (What about naptime and bedtime?) 

- He loves putting his little one because he loves giving them a bath and playing with the toys or when the lights are off but there is a nightlight and he hums while rocking you  

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

Tag:

[howlingday]

Jaune: Guess the series is over now, huh?

Blake: Mhm, though I can't say I saw the ending coming the way it did.

Jaune: Kinda wish there was a big bang finale at the end.

Yang: Those bombs made a pretty big bang, especially when The Brothers showed up.

Jaune: Yeah, but I thought maybe you guys would be fighting and struggling at the end there, and you'd start getting beaten down, but then I'd show up at the end to help and cut off Salem's hand, freeing you and allowing you the time I gave you to use the power of teamwork and a simple soul to seal her away for good.

Jaune: (Sighs) I could have been a good character for once...

Weiss: Jaune, what are you talking about? You already did that! Don't get me wrong, that finale does spund fucking dope and probably would have been the best fucking climactic showdown of the entire series, but it still would have just been a big flashy metaphor for something you've already done.

Ruby: We've all fucked up, Jaune. I was suffering from depression while Weiss fought cartoon physics and Blake and Yang got... either hooked up or fucked or something?

Weiss: (Coughs) Fuckingfinally (Coughs)

Ruby: The fate of the world was literally at stake and not once did you break under the weight of it all, never did you turn your back on your friends, and despite all the hate people might still have for you even after all how much you've proven yourself, and you have proven yourself, YOU were still the one who hung on to the end, Jaune. I fucking cracked, and in my darkest hour, YOU were the light that helped guide our friends to me simply by being the voice of reason and compassion. And sure, quiet fortitude might not be as entertaining as over the top anime showdowns to the most butt-rock of songs, but most people can't have those things anyway.

Ruby: But they can be like you, though, and I hope they try because there's no place in this life where humility, self-reflection, and resilience won't serve you well. You're a top-tier character, Jaune Arc,

AND YOU FUCKING EARNED THIS

[winstonsns]

hii! can u do johnny scenario w f reader whos head over heels for him and whos love language is physical touch?

head over heels (request)

authors note: sorry i’m posting this late!! i love physical touch so much :3 sorry if this isn’t good enough, i’ll try to make it longer next time. i hope you enjoy though 💗

johnny x reader

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none

you were in your room upstairs, reading a book about the tudors history that had just came out. being very interested in the book and all the new information you had just learned, you almost didn’t hear the doorbell.

but the noise had pulled you away from the book, you sat up from your bed and walked to the window, pulling the curtains away and peeking out. you saw your boyfriend, johnny, standing on your front porch, waiting patiently for someone to answer the door.

by the time you opened your door and ran downstairs, your parents had already welcomed johnny into the house, and were chatting away with him. your parents stopped talking to him and walked away, leaving the two of you alone.

your boyfriend smiled at you, you walked to him and trapped him in a hug, both of you feeling the comforting warmth from each others bodies. no words being said yet, you looked up at him and put your hands on his face, giving him a long kiss.

the two of you had missed each other after not seeing one another in so long, which was actually three days. when you both pulled away from the kiss, you both looked at each other other lovingly.

“i missed you, johnny…” you mumbled, him replying with, “i missed you too, y/n…” still looking at each other with love. you smiled at him and grabbed his hand, guiding him to the kitchen, asking him, “do you want anything, hon? we have a lot of food, snacks, drinks, actual meals…”

he questioned, “do you have cherries? and um, water?” you replied and smiled, walking to the fridge and grabbing cherries, rinsing them as your mom had taught you. you then dried them off and put them in a bowl, grabbing a napkin with it. you took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, holding both the glass and bowl, stating, “we can go up to my room now!!”

as the two of you walked upstairs into your bedroom, johnny had thanked you. he gently grabbed the bowl of cherries from your hand, holding your hand with his instead. you blushed, knowing that he knew you always loved being physically close to him. he noticed you would always try to get as close as possible to him, always having a hand on him wherever the two of you went.

you opened the door to your room, you put your hand on johnny’s back, leading him in. he sat on your bed and placed the cherries on the nightstand next to you after you had sat down. you put the glass of water on the nightstand next to you, it not being far out of johnny’s reach.

getting up from your bed, you turned the television on and flipped it to a channel both of you liked. it was a funny cartoon the both of you enjoyed watching together whenever both of you were together. you then walked back to your bed, crawling up next to your boyfriend.

you had loved him so much, so much that not even words could explain. you only knew how to show it through touch, and he knew that. he was fine with it, rather leaned towards it than not.

but you could sometimes have the words to express and describe your love. you would talk to others about him constantly, sometimes them getting so annoyed to the point of leaving mid conversation. but you didn’t care, because johnny wouldn’t do that to you.

he was someone who you had loved dearly, you talked about him so much that almost everyone knew every single little detail about him. but little did you know, he was as head over heels for you as you were for him.

the both of you were obsessed and in love with each other. whenever the two of you were seen by others, including the gang, they would always see you as the perfect couple. they might not have believed in love if the two of you weren’t together.

authors note: sorry this is so short lmao i’m disappointed in myself but didn’t have many ideas 😭

[changingplumbob]

Struck By Love: Nov 19th, Post 4

CW: Cartoon nosebleeds, Mentions of Violence - Guide to content warnings

As fights go it was pretty tame mercifully, although they both ended up with bloody noses.

Byron: The hell is wrong with you?

Kerry: Ow dude. Oh great, the popo is here

And indeed the principal was coming for them. She pulled them in to her office where she gave them a strong talking to before suspending them for the rest of the day, further consequences to be decided. Elena who was Kerry’s guardian for the day came over to collect her and instantly Kerry turned to a sobbing blob seeking solace from Mama Martinez. Byron hadn't realised she could cry. Then it came time for Byron.

Byron: Wait, Mrs Barbosa, you can’t call my mum

Margaret: Really? Did I miss her death? You were in a physical fight Byron. It is my legal obligation to inform her, especially as you are suspended for the day

Byron: But do you have to inform her just this second

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Shichigosan (a Physical Paradox extra)

I wanted to write something for shichigosan (aka seven-five-three, celebrated on or around November 15) since Eiji would be 5 this year and the twins would be 3!! I hope you guys like it and would love to know what you think!!

Just something a lil short and sweet for our Physical Paradox Goinko and fam!!

Kiko's Masterlist | Buy me a coffee ☕️ | AO3

2024

Rinko’s heart melted at the sight of Eiji when he stepped into the room, fully dressed and ready for the festival.

“Don’t you look handsome?” she cooed, unable to keep the grin from her face when he puffed his chest out proudly.

As if she needed more reasons to adore her son. The hakama paired with the patterned haori fit him perfectly. It made him look like a little man instead of her little boy. She couldn’t believe they were already celebrating his shichigosan. Her sweet boy was growing up way too fast.

All of their kids were.

She half-expected Maki or Mai to inform her that they were engaged any day now. She just hoped that they didn’t tell her at the same time.

“You look really pretty, momma,” Eiji stated matter-of-factly, stepping closer and tugging on her kimono. “So do you, Yumi.”

Yumika giggled, reaching for him once Rinko had secured the hifu around her.

“Nii-chan look hantom,” she replied, her hands clutching his haori.

“He does,” Rinko agreed, chuckling as she straightened, adjusting her obi as she did so. “Where’re your daddy and Shirou?”

“Shirou didn’t like his hakama,” Eiji muttered, fiddling with the green cords fastening his haori. “He said it felt funny, so Daddy’s talking to him about it.”

It didn’t surprise her. Shirou didn’t like being uncomfortable, and traditional clothes were practically the definition of uncomfortable.

Nodding, she released a quiet sigh before motioning for them to move.

“Go downstairs with Yumi, then,” she said, smoothing her kimono. “I’ll go check on the others.”

Eiji nodded dutifully, grasping Yumika’s hand tightly and guiding her out of the room.

“Can we watch cartoons while we wait?” he asked, and Rinko smiled.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

She heard him asking Yumika what she wanted to watch as they descended the stairs, and she pursed her lips as she approached the twins’ room, hearing Satoru’s quiet voice, the frustration just beginning to bleed into his tone.

“–don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to–”

“I wanna match!”

“Then you gotta put ‘em on, buddy,” Satoru replied, sighing. “I know they’re uncomfortable, but–”

“Itchy!” Shirou exclaimed, and Satoru released a heavier sigh than before. “Don’ wanna!”

“Then how about you and I match, yeah?” Satoru reasoned. “What if you and me wear–”

“Wanna match Nii-chan!”

Satoru stayed silent, and Rinko furrowed her brow as she assumed he tried not to let the exclamation hurt his feelings. But it probably did, anyway.

“Darling,” she called gently, stepping inside and trying to suppress her chuckles at the sight she was met with.

The situation felt so much sillier when she saw Shirou sitting half-naked on the floor, his arms crossed and features scrunched on his little face. Satoru, still clad in his sweats and t-shirt, knelt in front of him, pinching the bridge of his nose. Seeing his frustration sobered her instantly, and she moved to his side.

“Wanna match Nii-chan,” Shirou pouted, jutting his bottom lip out. “But don’t wan’ tose.” He pointed a tiny finger to the hakama neatly folded on his bed, a scowl causing his brow to furrow. “Itchy!”

A dilemma, to say the least.

They’d let Eiji choose his own attire, and he’d picked the traditional clothes without hesitation when he realized that he’d get to wear the same haori that Satoru had worn to his shichigosan. But Shirou’s clothes were new, so he had little motivation to wear them beyond wanting to be like Eiji. Which was clearly the issue at hand since he didn’t want to wear them while wanting to wear them.

Satoru ran his hand through his hair, his brow twitching as he clearly tried to remain calm.

“He’s been saying this since Eiji finished getting dressed,” he explained, his jaw ticking slightly. “We’d decided he wouldn’t wear the hakama and haori because they weren’t comfortable until he saw Eiji, so now we’ve been going back and forth because he wants to match.”

His eyes stared straight forward, jaw clenching and unclenching. Shirou remained thankfully oblivious to how upset his father really was, too busy glaring daggers at the itchy clothing on his bed. 

“Darling,” Rinko began quietly, placing a hand on Satoru’s bicep to get his attention. He turned his head to stare at her, the hard lines of his face relaxing slightly when she just smiled. “Why don’t you go get dressed while I help Shirou? And then you can go see how pretty your baby girl looks in her very first kimono.”

Relief flooded his face as she spoke, and she lifted her hand to run it through his hair, watching his eyes slide closed when her nails scraped his scalp.

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding reluctantly before pushing himself to his feet. His gaze shifted quickly, taking in her appearance and pausing when he saw her obi. “New sash?”

She’d seen it when she took Yumika shopping for her kimono and couldn’t resist when she realized it would match her own, and Satoru’s, perfectly.

“Maybe,” she replied slyly, smirking at his narrowed eyes. “Thought it’d be a nice touch. You like it?”

He stared for a moment longer before releasing a heavy sigh and leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

“‘ll give you a nice touch,” he muttered, his tone drawing a smug grin to her face. “You look beautiful. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Rinko watched him ruffle Shirou’s hair quickly before retreating from the room, his footsteps echoing quietly as he trudged back to their bedroom to get dressed.

“Sweet boy,” she murmured, pulling Shirou into her arms and snuggling him close. “I’m sorry your hakama is itchy. If you don’t want to–”

“Wan’ match–”

“I know you do,” she soothed, carefully repositioning so her kimono didn’t crease while she rocked them back and forth. “But I want you to have fun today, and you can’t do that if you’re all itchy.”

“But– but Nii-chan,” he whined, clenching his little fists and pounding his lap. “And Yumi.”

Humming quietly, she rested her chin on the top of his head as she debated their options. She knew he wanted to match the others, and it wasn’t exactly ideal for him to be the only one not dressed like the rest of them, but there had to be a compromise of some kind. Eiji and Yumika were already dressed. Not to mention that they’d both chosen their clothes. Technically, this shichigosan was for Eiji and Yumika, so she wouldn’t ask them to change now, anyway.

“What if you only wore them for the pictures, then?” she offered. “You can match for the pictures, and then–”

“No!” he cried, tears forming in his eyes now. “Wan’ match–” he cut off as he hiccupped, and Rinko rubbed his back slowly.

“I know, sweetheart,” she murmured.

That complicated things further, but she wasn’t surprised. He didn’t care about pictures. He cared about being like Eiji and Yumika for the festival. It didn’t help that he clearly wanted to wear the hakama, and he just seemed upset that it was itchy.

She scratched his back, humming absently as her eyes drifted to the hakama. He didn’t want to be itchy–

“What if you could wear something comfy and match Eiji and Yumi?” she asked, picking the hakama up and then looking down to see Shirou wiping his eyes. “What if we make it so the itchy can’t get you?”

“No itchy?”

They’d gotten his clothes just a bit too big just in case he hit a last-minute growth spurt before the festival, but he hadn’t. So maybe he could wear something underneath them.

“Mhmm,” she agreed. “Do you wanna wear your favorite pants under them?”

His favorite joggers were starting to thin, anyway, and he was also beginning to outgrow them, but getting him to quit wearing them was a meltdown to deal with another day. He still loved them and didn’t want to quit wearing them, but that also meant he might be more willing to deal with the extra fabric. Plus, it was supposed to be a bit windy, so this could also be a way to ensure he stayed warm.

“Pans?”

She hummed in agreement again, grinning as he blinked rapidly, his excitement growing at the thought of wearing his favorite joggers.

“It’ll be like a little secret,” she whispered, leaning closer. “You can wear them under the hakama so you still match Eiji and Yumi, but the itchy can’t get to you. How’s that sound?”

He scrambled out of her lap, digging through his laundry hamper until he found his prize. There was a small stain on them, but the hakama would cover it anyway.

Chuckling, Rinko caught him when he tripped as he tried to yank them on as fast as possible. Tugging the hakama up over the joggers, she pressed her lips together to keep from giggling when the stiff fabric bunched up in some places. It didn’t matter to her if he looked a bit silly as long as he didn’t mind.

“Better?” she asked, grinning along with him when he just offered her a toothy grin. She held the haori up next, helping him slip his arms through and then fastening the green haori himo. “You look so handsome, too.”

“Like Nii-chan?” he asked, his brows pulled together. “Hanshom like Nii-chan?”

“Just like Eiji,” she agreed, kissing both of his cheeks and then lifting him into her arms as she stood. “Let’s go show the others, hm?”

“Leave it to you,” Satoru whispered in Rinko’s ear as they watched Eiji grasp each of the twins’ hands while they stood in line to get their chitose ame, “to think of something like that for Shirou.”

“It works, doesn’t it?” she replied defensively, quickly snapping a picture of their kids holding hands. “He’s comfortable, and he matches. I know you’ve been dying to say something about the little bulge from his joggers.”

They’d done their best to make sure it was hidden in the family picture, but she’d noticed Satoru barely containing himself every time he caught sight of it again. At least she knew that side of him hadn’t changed a bit.

His grin now said everything she needed to know. But she would take it over the dejected look he’d tried so hard to hide when Shirou had aggressively rejected the idea of only matching him.

“I wasn’t gonna point it out, but he is my son, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s–”

She cut him off with an elbow to his gut, rolling her eyes as he snickered wildly. A few other parents shot them disapproving looks, which prompted Satoru to smother his laughter with his hand.

“You’re the worst,” she deadpanned, fighting the smile as he pulled her closer to his side so he could wrap his arm around her waist. “Just awful–”

“You love me,” Satoru replied simply, pushing his shades up his nose. “But what I was saying a minute ago was that you’re so good with him. I dunno what I’d have done if you hadn’t come in when you did.” He paused to grimace. “Probably would’ve ended up just forcing him to wear the clothes because I didn’t know what else to do. I was just getting so frustrated–”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she countered quietly, nudging his shoulder with her own. “You were doing fine.”

“No,” Satoru grumbled, “I wasn’t. And I should’ve made sure the hakama would work before I bought it, anyway–”

“He picked it out because it matched Eiji’s,” she reminded. “You couldn’t have known it’d be uncomfortable.”

“I just didn’t know what to do–”

“It worked out,” she cut him off. “You were stressed because you wanted to have him dressed before you got ready, and he hurt your feelings, too.”

“He didn’t–”

“Darling,” Rinko chided, nudging him again. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“I know he didn’t mean he didn’t wanna match with me,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “S’not a big deal.”

She just hummed, leaning up to peck his cheek.

“I’ll let you tell yourself that for now,” she relented. “I know we’ve joked about Eiji being like you, but I think Shirou might just be your exact copy.” Pausing, her lips pulled up into a smirk. “S’what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, yeah?”

Her chest fluttered when he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Which am I?”

“Neither,” she replied instantly, giggling when his grasp on her waist tightened so he could dig his fingers into her sides. Gasping quietly, she tried to stifle her snickers when she noticed other parents once again sending them nasty looks. “We’re in public, darling–”

“Then quit bein’ a brat in public,” he growled under his breath in reply, loosening his grasp. “You’re still such a tease. And your new sash is beautiful.”

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see what else is new later,” she murmured, grinning when he stiffened and sucked in a quick breath through his nose. “Come on. Looks like the kids got their candy.”

AN: Thanks for reading!!

I was researching Japanese holidays a while ago and came across shichigosan, or seven-five-three, (November 15), and thought it would be perfect to write something for Physical Paradox since Eiji and the twins are 5 and 3 this year. I know I’m a tiny bit late, but it sorta works because the festivals are usually held on weekends, anyway!

Fun notes that I didn’t make explicitly clear:

The kids’ haori himo (braided cords) matched their eye color. So Eiji and Shirou’s were green, and Yumika’s were blue.

I’ve been asked before about their kids being neurodivergent, and I just felt it made so much sense to have a lil piece of how they’d deal with something related to that. Shirou’s preference was inspired by a problem I had when I was little with how clothes fit and felt. If they felt itchy or scratchy or made me feel out of place, I would lose my mind, and it would be worse if I was still forced to wear them. So, Shirou’s thing with not wanting to wear the itchy clothes but not wanting to be left out or the only one not wearing the matching clothes not only felt realistic to me but fit something a toddler might struggle with even if they weren’t neurodivergent. Rinko’s solution is likely very unrealistic given Japanese culture, but I feel it fits her as a character because she is aware of these little brain nuances on top of the fact that sometimes, as a parent, you just have to roll with the punches as best you can even if it’s not what you wanted.

Also, I tried to keep the way Yumika and Shirou speak as accurate as possible without going too far down a rabbit hole researching toddler speech patterns otherwise, I would never have finished this.

I’m probably forgetting something, but I wanted to get this done before the weekend is over.

[kintatsujo]

I can't actually overstate how popular Yugioh was in the 2000s you guys it was on par or moreso than the TMNT phenomenon in the 90s

Mai was on the cover of TV Guide-- Mai, a supporting female character, was on the cover of TV Guide. There were magazines. There was cereal. There were dumb little dogtags that I wore the entire first year I worked at my first real job. There were tie in games and even 20 years later they considered it worth making dsod and releasing it in theaters.

Yugioh is probably the entire reason the Naruto or One Piece mangas got translated, because interest in Yugioh was why Jump tried out a physical monthly release in English in the first place.

Yugioh helped mainstream modern anime.

I need you to understand that. Pokémon absolutely had some influence there but there was a time period that Yugioh was more of a mainstream anime than Pokémon. They did it together.

And the only reason any of you thinks otherwise is because when you're young you just kind of weigh all the cartoons you watch on the same scale. YOU didn't realize that it wasn't normal how Yugioh kept completely taking over the Saturday morning broadcasts. That wasn't normal! The only other shows that they ever did that with were Pokémon and Digimon! And those were always special occasions!

Toward the end of Yugioh DM they were airing something like ten episodes a week, all Saturday morning, for months at a time.

That, my dears, is absolutely bonkers.

Yugioh fandom isn't small, it's just old and exists in pockets and that makes it SEEM quiet.

[the-kr8tor]

Hiii!

I don't request often, but I had this idea in mind and I absolutely NEEDED to see it in ur writing style 😭

a fic where Hobie and reader both work at the daily bugle, and they both take photos of spider-man for hte newspaper. except obviously Hobie's going to have the better pictures because he literally is spider-man and reader absolutely despises him for it

he loves beating her in this little competition but what he doesn't know is that she's only a few pictures away from being fired because at the end, there can only be one photographer for the bugle

and she really needs this job

hopefully this made sense!!

Hihi! Thank you for requesting! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, co-worker! Hobie, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie acts like he's making coffee, the coffee table is conveniently placed in front of JJJ’s office. Where said man is currently screaming his head off at you, hell even laughing at you occasionally. Hobie can't hear what he's saying or why he's screaming, the sound proof glass walls seem to do the trick. But because of the glass, he can see everything.

JJJ is so mad that Hobie can see the veins on his temple pop out, and face turning into a giant tomato. Hobie's sure you're about to break your composure by how you grip your expensive camera on your lap. He's kind of proud of you that way, the way you don't break your resolve and eye contact even though your infamous boss is screaming his head off and looking like a character in an old 90s cartoon about a cat and mouse.

Hobie watches on, he tells himself that he only does just in case one of you gets physical. If JJJ gets hurt, and he will get hurt based on your searing glare, then no one's gonna pay him if the boss is injured. If you get hurt then who is gonna push his buttons down at the bullpen? Who's gonna push him to do a better job and take better pictures when you're gone? It's definitely not because he fancies you or anything like that. Or so he likes to lie to himself so he doesn't actually act on the feeling lest he gets called to HR and have the most uncomfortable talk of his life since the birds and the bees conversation.

JJJ seems to finally cool off, fixing his obvious combover, he sits down on his leather seat, sighing, eyes still aflame. Hobie wonders what you've done to get him all riled up like that. He hasn't seen him that mad since the doc ock debacle.

Everyone in the office seems to have the same curiosity as him, some blatantly watch in their seats, ignoring their own paperwork. Some hide the fact that they're watching the car crash right in front of them. And you're in the middle of the road.

Right when JJJ dismisses you, the entire office returns to their work as if nothing happened. You open the door with hidden anger, knuckles shaking on the doorknob, eyebrows knitted together. Hobie can feel your restrained anger from where he stands on the doorway of the break room. You pass by him and he swears that he felt heat radiating from you.

You close the microwave door that someone left open with a slam. Huffing over the sink, hands gripping the sides, you want to punch something but at the same time you don't want to break company property.

“What did the poor microwave do to you?” Hobie jokes to lighten your mood, but it lands wrong over to you.

“Not in the fucking mood, Hobart.” You turn to leave but he blocks your way. “What? You here to goad?”

“No,” he almost sounds offended. “I was gonna ask if you're alright.” With his tone sounding genuine, you sigh heavily, hand rubbing across your tired face. Hobie guides you towards a chair, sitting you down gently, you crumble immediately on the old chair.

Head in your hands, back curled, you refuse to cry especially in front of a co-worker who you've grown fond of over the years of working together. A cup of cold water is placed in front of you, ice clinking inside the mug that has your name scribbled with a red marker.

“Here, figured coffee wouldn't be good for you right now and we ran out of the tea you like so much.” Hobie sits across you, eyes scanning you for distress.

“Thanks.” You murmur, taking a small sip. “You know what tea I like?” For some reason, you calm down from his stare, when it's someone else it would piss you off more.

“Who do you think buys it? J? Fucker won't even shell out for two-ply toilet paper.”

You smile, now remembering all the times he has brought you tea whenever you're both at the field hunting down the latest scoop. “I remember now, it's because I always had the label out.”

“Yeah,” he nods, even though he knew about your favourite from the first time he saw you make it on your first day. Which was also his first day.

“He's gonna fire me.” You blurt out after a few beats of silence. “My photos were, he said and I quote, ‘fucking horrible, the worst pictures of Spider-Man I've ever seen!’ for someone who hates Spider-Man he's awfully obsessed with him.” You scoff.

“You're not gettin' fired over that. You're a better photographer than me.”

You chuckle softly, “I am,” he shakes his head with a ghost of a smile on his pierced lips. “but your Spider-Man pictures are much better than mine. And a photo of him sells more than a picture of some new public park.”

“Don't belittle yourself, love, he's hard to shoot. Anyway I loved those pictures of yours. Nice angles and lighting.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better, Hobart.” You take a gulp of water when you feel the tremors start again. “I can't get fired. I have so much shit to pay, I'm behind on rent, utilities and I haven't even bought my own car!” Hobie wants to scooch his chair closer to try and calm your shaking. So he does.

Standing up, he picks up the chair, plopping it right next to you. Sitting down, arm casually draped on the back of his chair, silver chains on his neck in full display thanks to the two buttons undone on his work shirt that you know he hates so much. You watch him with curious eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you have no idea why. Knee to knee, he ducks down to meet your downturned eyes.

“How behind?”

“You gonna pay my rent for me?” You joke, eyes flicking away from his chest.

“Nah, even better.” You tilt your head, wordlessly saying, ‘go on’ “want to know my secret?” He pauses, trepidation behind his eyes. “On how I get those pictures of Spider-Man?” Hobie's nervous, you can tell by how he taps his index finger rhymically on his jean clad thigh. A tell you've come to be endeared to.

“Yeah, you're gonna tell me?” Your eyes widen. Will he finally tell you what you've pieced together years ago?

He leans closer, you can see every speck of green in his hazel eyes, a detail you take note of in your mind. He whispers lowly. “...he's a mate of mine.”

You take a deep breath, “oh, that's cool.”

“I just told you I'm best mates with Spider-Man and all you can say is ‘cool’?”

You straighten up in your seat, eyes warm for him. And in turn, he copies your movements. “If you put it that way, then yeah.” Chuckling, your worries are pushed aside for now. He has that effect on you. “I'm impressed, Hobart. I guess it makes sense that you both run with the same crowd. Are you in the same band or something?” The last comment was to throw him off the scent that you already know of his alter ego.

“Fuckin' Hobart,” he clicks his tongue but his own smile betrays him. He has a brilliant idea. “If I can convince him to meet you somewhere so you could take his pictures, will you finally stop callin’ me Hobart?”

You grin, heart full and eternally grateful. “Yeah, okay, it's a deal.” Reaching towards him, he takes your hand and shakes it. Your thumb rubs softly on his knuckles, so gentle that he can barely feel it, but he does. While his warmth practically consumes you, he drowns in your own. “Thank you, Hobart.”

“Oi—”

“You haven't arranged it yet, so until then, I'm going to keep calling you that.” You both don't notice how your hand is still clasped in his. Or maybe you two chose to ignore it.

“Cheeky,” He has no idea what he's in for.

[davesbigwhirlwind]

My forced formal transformation story - the things we do for love...

Sam was the love of my life. She was more stylish, more cultured, more intelligent. I had a reasonable job and was a fairly popular and trendy guy, but I was punching above my weight and I knew it. But we clicked. There was a connection and it just worked. I'd do anything for her. 

We'd been going out for about 5 months when she suggested I should move in to her family home. She lived with her father in a large house alongside their 2 staff. Now her father was a traditionalist, and, like her, was very well educated and informed, and I liked the fact he was very direct. He was a successful business owner and by default seemed to be in business mode, and always wore a somber suit and a serious expression on his face. His wife had sadly passed, but I respected the great job they had done in raising Sam into the fine woman she was. 

He told me that he'd be glad of me to move in - separate rooms of course - but as our relationship was clearly serious he wanted to help us, but emphasised that he wanted to help me develop both intellectually and physically, and while he would take things slowly, he would require me to embrace both the learnings and recommendations he made to help guide me towards being a good husband, should we reach that point. 

I readily agreed. 

A month later and I moved in. Stephen started straight away teaching me much of his knowledge on everything from etiquette to literature, and the art of being a good partner. He explained the man's place was not about fashion, beauty and flamboyancy, but, rather about masculinity, dependability and stability, and being understated, while allowing Sam to take the limelight. He explained that the correct appearance was every bit as important as how you act and how would help guide me through these factors over the months ahead. 

The first change came the following Monday. I woke to find in my wardrobe that all my t shirts had been replaced by good quality white formal shirts, and accompanying white vests to wear under them. And I was gutted to see that my entire trainer collection had disappeared and been replaced by 3 pairs of, very traditional, formal lace up black leather Oxford shoes. Even when selecting my smartest dark jeans, they still looked very out of keeping with the formal white shirt, and pulling on the shoes the leather creaked as my feet adjusted to being wedged into the pointy toes. I tied the laces and saw my face reflecting in the incredibly highly polished leather uppers. Walking in these shoes was a challenge, as the smooth soles meant I had to walk much more slowly and with poise, in order to not skid. 

I would never have chosen these clothes but went along with it, with Sam encouraging me. I got a few wise cracks about shiny shoes at work but that was about it. I worked in IT so it had a fair variety of oddballs, from geeks wearing cartoon t shirts, to goths, so while my change in style was out of character for me, it wasn't a major issue. 

I also needn't have worried about the jeans not looking right, as, by the end of the week, these had all been removed, to be replaced by heavy, pale grey wool trousers, tightly tailored and with razor sharp creases that hung straight down with just a small break above the seam which grazed the top of my Oxfords. A shiny black formal belt was also provided. 

This became what I wore every single day. It felt particularly strange wearing this at weekends when seeing friends, and the wise cracks at work focused on it being my school uniform, but Sam kept me up, telling me how handsome I looked. If she was happy, then I'd cope. I no longer worked out at the gym, and I controlled the time I spent with friends to ensure I committed the time to my new family and to this process.

The following Saturday Stephen announced we'd be making a trip to his barber. 

I was straight into Anthony's chair, and with a glance on the mirror I got a last look at my prized hair. Everyone loved my hair. I got lots of great comments about it. it was long, luscious, tousled and framed my face beautifully being roughly parted to drape down and across my forehead and feel flowing to lying on my collar. 

There was no discussion as Anthony combed through my hair. For years my shoulder length hair has been roughly parted above my right eye, but now a very severe straight part was created on the far left side of my head with the hair scraped to either side of this stark white line. 

Without ceremony the clippers were powered up and ploughed up the left side of my head towards the part, while Anthony used his comb to angle out the hair so that the clippers left a slightly longer length at the top, but otherwise a fine pelt of military length hair was left three quarters of the way up. This continued round my head as my ears became uncovered for the first time. And boy are my ears massive. Alarmingly so. Jug ears without a doubt, and definitely having benefited from the hair that had very satisfactorily covered them for over 20 years. Next Anthony took his scissors and was cutting the top down with massive chunks. Nothing longer than an inch and a half remained. The next shock was just what a big forehead I had. With so little hair, my facial features were really standing out. A razor then took off the hairs at the back of my neck, that had never caused an issue before, but were now clearly too scruffy to remain, while my sideburns were removed to the top of ears.

Pomade was then rubbed into my hair and a comb carefully pulled the hair across my head, while Anthony styles a small quiff at the front and showed me how to re-create this. 

He showed me in the mirror the remains of my hair. The uniformly clipped hair ran over half way up the back of my head before tapering to a slightly longer length leading to a small ridge ran round my head at the point that the clipped hair met the wet-looking slicked hair on top. This ridge dipped slightly at the back, but still remained high up my head, allowing the virgin scalp to shine through across most of my head. This was very much a short, no-nsense business man's haircut

I went to sit with my cold - and much lighter - head, while Stephen got a trim. I realised he had an identical cut. Same left part, clipping, ridge, slicked quiff. Though Stephen wore the cut far better as he had far less expanse of clipped scale due to having a much lower hairline and smaller, rounder head. While my head was very clearly very elongated and egg-like. He also had small ears that sat neatly tucked into the side of his head, unlike my satellite dishes. I ran my hand down the back of my head, which sent a shiver down my spine from the bristles that were an alien feeling. 

Sam looked genuinely shocked when she saw me. I couldn't blame her as my features seemed to have moved round my face from this brutal cut. My massive pale gleaming forehead and giant ears exposed for the first time, and the brutality of the cut showing the elongated oval shaped head that had been hidden for so many years. I felt shell shocked, but Stephen offered a rare word of encouragement by saying how positive it was that the men of the house were now setting a clear standard on grooming. I truly hated this haircut and how it made me feel and look, but a part of me also really felt proud that Stephen wanted me to take on part of his style. This really was a defining moment of moving from fashionable to formal. 

Friends and colleagues either looked in horror or laughed but told me it would soon grow. However I very much doubted this would be allowed to happen. It was the second haircut 2 weeks later that got the worst response, as no one could begin to fathom why I would inflict this same style on myself for a second time. But this became routine that ever 2 weeks we'd both be shaved, trimmed and slicked to ensure the stubble remained short enough to pass muster. 

I think even Stephen realised I needed to get used to my new look as the next few weeks were more about using my new skills, such as Sam and I attending small dinners at home with close friends and associates of Stephen.

Then, an upgrade came. A plethora of very sombre ties in shades of navy, burgundies and dark green appeared alongside a navy double breasted blazer with rows of gold buttons running down the front sides. This became standard attire, as my heavily starched shirt collars now became buttoned to the top and digging into my neck, with a Windsor knotted tie, together with tie clip as standard from morning to night and the blazer whenever with company, and fully buttoned whenever I wasn't seated. I now looked like an off duty naval officer, but it did too make me sit up straight and hold myself taller as a result. 

A couple of other hurdles came over the next month. First I was taken to the opticians for the fitting of my new glasses. It was a surprise to me I was getting glasses, as I lived constantly in contact lenses, having only a small pair of rimless frames for emergencies. However the frames that had been chosen for me were big gold framed aviator glasses that filled the width of my face, and the frames glinted in the light as I moved. However as I was so myopic the lenses were extremely thick, and the lenses shrunk down my eyes (one of my best features, which now looked weirdly small and watery and hidden by these large rectangular fishbowl lenses, with strong reflections) as well as creating a very visible cut in the side of the lenses meaning my head looked like it had had chunks taken out of it. My contact lenses were removed and these became a daily dominating feature on my face, as the world now saw me as a bespectacled man for the first time. Due to the weight of the large panes of glass that now sat across my face, they kept sliding down my nose. They were adjusted, but the result meant the arms of the glasses dug into the side of my face, creating permanent creases in the temples of my head.

I also had my tattoo on my arm removed by Lazer. It wasn't appropriate. It was a painful correction. Both in the emotional loss of something I loved and the physical agony of it being eradicated. 

This was me now, this was my daily uniform. I didn't now need to spend time thinking about what to wear or what to buy, as it was already a given. When I stood beside Sam, she looked radiant and beautiful as ever, while I remain dependable and reliable beside her. Ultimately I was grey. Yes I looked very smart and could be very charming, but no one would give me a second look beyond my formal and traditional appearance. I admit that the old me used to like the glances I'd get from women checking me out, and I would flirt with women and preen myself to be as attractive as possible. Now no one I would have found attractive would give me the time of day, and if people stared, it was now for very different reasons This was me now. Formal, nerdy, a bit ugly. From my smartly quiffed hair and geeky big glasses and smart outfit. But I was fully committed to Sam, as it should be, and that was what mattered.