#despite years and years of notes and observations and imitation

[eclairsnme]

♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The troubles of an Idol.

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

notes: she's back with more demands and silliness!! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“Could you make that,” pointing to your chest subtly, “a little bigger?”

Sitting beside the photo editor, you closely observe her working magic on your recent photoshoot with a swimwear brand.

You thought the photos looked great until you caught on to an important missing element.

Boobs.

Big boobs to be specific.

You had boobs but they were not like Hana Haruna’s (*a Japanese pornstar*).

What is the point of posing for a swimwear brand when you lack the assets?

“Maybe if you could just accentuate it a little more,” you gestured your hands to reiterate your idea of a big boob.

“Miss, if I make it any bigger here it’ll look as if you have watermelon jugs as big as your head.”

Your photo editor had a point; your edited chest resembled overblown balloons.

But still! (╯•﹏•╰)

“Isn’t that what the people like? Do you know what they always say? ‘Big boobs don’t lie’.”

“I think you got the wrong idea here, miss.”

“We cannot let the people out there catch me lacking!”

This was your first ever swimwear photoshoot in your entire career. Usually, you will pose for makeup brands and luxury clothing brands.

Swimwear was an uncharted territory. Of course, you were a little overzealous.

Me! The idol who is perfect in every way! Perfect face, perfect figure, and perfect life — an idol who everyone knows and loves.

“Hold on a second, let me refer to my advisor for their advice.”

Imitating a handheld phone with your hands and fingers, you held it towards your ear and spoke through the mock phone.

“Hello, myself. Do you think big boobs are better or small boobs?”

You halted for a second before replying to your own quandary, “Most definitely big boobs.”

With that, you ended the “call”.

“There you have it, miss photo editor. You just have to make it big enough to look natural.”

“If you say so...”

“I am the perfect idol. I cannot lack!”

Maintaining the image of an idol sure is a tough job.

—

“Did she gain some weight?”

“She looked like she had some plastic surgery done to her nose.”

“Oh, I heard she’s dating that one foreign guy!”

“Didn’t you hear how she seduced her way into…”

“She looks like she aged like rotten cheese since her teenage years.”

“Don’t you think she’s the least talented of her siblings?”

Those were just some of the many comments you could ascertain from your dear haters coming from the live audience seat.

You know you are the epitome of perfection. No matter what they say, it would not make you hot under the collar.

Jealously sure is a terrible disease. ┐(´～｀)┌

Currently, you are on a TV show with your male costar, whom you could not really remember his name for he is just a mere NPC.

Today’s show required you to promote a romance drama you acted in last year that has finally been broadcasted this year.

You played the role of the female lead, who fell in love with the male lead at first sight.

It turns out, the group of people who were talking behind your back was this NPC costar’s groupies.

Tsk. Bunch of buzzing bees.

They were on a nonstop mission to pour vitriolic attacks on you.

Despite all the hate, you thought it was quite flattering that they were giving you such undivided attention albeit having their “idol” — NPC costar — right beside you.

Yet again, you have proved to yourself that you are indeed the star of the show! Haters are part of the package of being so irresistible!

(Ŏ艸Ŏ)

You giggled at that.

“This is the hottest romance drama of this season that is sure to get you excited!” The host bellowed, prompting a wave of applause from the audience.

You smiled at the reception.

The interview was filled with scripted questions which you accordingly answered to.

Too easy.

You just had to smile sweetly at everyone to have them fall in love with you. Even the bunch of groupies could not help but to fall for your charm.

Everything was going swimmingly until the host pulled out his wild card — an unscripted question directed at you.

“As a famous idol, do you have any real-life romantic experiences that are swoon-worthy to share with the audience?” The host said in an overly enthusiastic tone.

The audience gasps.

All the cameras were then angled at you anticipating your response.

You smiled sweetly at the host.

Does this guy hate me or something? He must be my number one hater!

Your privacy has always been prioritised as an idol.

Not much was known about your private life until the recent news of your relationship with the Itoshi siblings broke out.

Disregarding that, the matter of your romantic relationship was a topic deemed taboo even to your fans.

The genesis of the taboo nature of your private romantic life started from an honest discussion among the netizens.

They were speculating who you were romantically involved with but it was all for naught as they could not find even a speck of man involved with you.

Even when feverish stalkers took matters into their own hands, they still could not find dirt on you.

Male costars? You treated them like dirt off-camera.

Other male celebrities? You did not even bother looking in their direction or bear to breathe the same air as them for you are better than them.

It soon became apparent to them that perhaps you had a secret affair or were involved in something incredibly scandalous — maybe you were interested in unique deviances?

Their theories then became out of control and so out of pocket that everyone began making up weird conclusions of their own online, which caused a huge uproar.

In the end, everyone decided to be more hush about that topic.

In reality, the truth as to why no one was able to dig up any evidence of you in a relationship was simply because you have always been single as a pringle.

How could a young eligible, gorgeous and talented bachelorette be so single? ( ▀ 益 ▀ )

That is because your brain only contains idol-related information. Everything else? Nil.

Is this man mocking me?

“Surely someone as pretty as you would have countless opportunities for love isn’t it?” The host continued with his onslaught of probing.

Should I strangle him? Or should I just slap him? No no no. Evil monologue shut up.

You look over to your manager and gave him the death glare.

In response to that, he expeditiously told the producers to temporarily halt the program.

With hands akimbo, your tall and slim frame overwhelmed the short and stubby manager.

You frowned at him and harshly whispered to his ears, “Get me a boyfriend ASAP!”

“Eh?!”

—

The program ended and you finally let out a long sigh in the car.

“So did you find me a boyfriend yet?”

“I-I don’t think that is how relationships work! I cannot just magically bring you a boyfriend.”

“But I want a boyfriend! So find me one!” You exclaimed helplessly.

Your manager sighed at your zero concepts of relationships and love.

“Have you loved someone before?”

“Myself.”

“Other than yourself?”

“Is this a trick question or something?”

Mr Manager glances at the rearview mirror with a defeated expression.

“Have you experienced love before?”

“What’s that?” You asked, fingers on your chin unsure what the heck that meant. ಠ╭╮ಠ

“The butterflies in your stomach when you meet someone you love!” He exasperated.

“Oh, that! Whenever I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror, I get this inexplicable feeling of that thing you described!”

This was a lost cause. Although you acted in numerous romance dramas, you still did not grasp the meaning of love. What a hypocrisy it is.

“To have a boyfriend, you must first love that person!”

“What? That sounds like a hassle. I just want a boyfriend.”

Mr manager scrunched his nose in disbelief.

“And why do you exactly want a ‘boyfriend’? This can’t be another of your impulsive thoughts is it?”

Mr manager had a déjà vu of a time when you ordered him to get you a pet tiger.

“No, it is not! What with all these questions, Mr interrogator?”

“…”

“Shut up and just get me a boyfriend.”

“So I have the right to set you up on a date?”

“Whatever it is, I want a boyfriend. I am being very extremely superbly serious!” You said with finality.

Mr Manager could only sigh in defeat yet again for the umpteenth time.

“But you are a public figure–”

You snapped at Mr Manager, “Shut up!”

He continued driving the car, looking at you through the rear-view mirror.

Any man would die to date you; you were a beguiling and dazzling lady. However, your attitude was something he was not sure any man would be able to handle.

In his entire career of being your manager, not once has he had a good day. Every day was filled with problems caused by you that he had to solve.

His brow scrunched together in grim defeat.

Boyfriend huh? Good luck to that unlucky guy.

You, on the other hand, seating cross-legged in the backseat, were marinating in annoyance.

After experiencing the mockery of the host deprecating your love life, you could not let that slide.

You had to ratio him.

Was it immature? Debatable.

Your only participation in this so-called romantic relationship concept was acting in dramas and movies.

And your exposure to the male species was…

Ehem.

Despite being an idol, your otherwise desolate personal life painted you as a lone wolf.

In your life, it was all work and dedication to being the best.

You were on fire! On fire to get a boyfriend! You will show them that you are capable of anything, and not lacking in any department!

The constant buzz of your phone eventually broke you out of your daze.

When you saw the screen, you immediately picked up the call.

“Rin!”

“I’m one step closer to demolishing brother.”

Eh? ！(◎_◎;)

You took the phone away from your ear and stared into the screen making sure you have the right person on the phone.

After confirming it’s the right person, you responded, “What do you mean demolishing your brother?”

“I’ve joined Paris X Gen in Blue Lock to become the best striker and to destroy brother.”

“Mmm… you are destroying my heart, Rin. Why are you still talking about your brother like this?”

“I will be better and he will finally acknowledge me.”

You murmured incoherent thoughts with a frown.

This pent-up hatred can go no further!

“Sister?”

“Where are you now?”

“In the Blue Lock facility. Why?”

You hung up the phone.

“Drive me to this Blue Lock facility place,” you ordered Mr Manager.

—

As soon as you arrive at the Blue Lock building, you were met with strict security.

“Let me in you low-life man.”

“Miss, this is not a place you can just walk in.”

“And a measly man like you can?”

You had been at this for a good 10 minutes, going back and forth with the stubby man and his group of security guards.

Getting sick and tired of this nonsense, you slap the man's fake wig off his head. The wig which was so fake you could see your reflection on it, flew away dramatically and plopped onto the hard asphalt ground.

“M-my hair!” He ran straight to the plastic wig.

“What’s with all these ruckus?”

The hairless man exclaimed at the sight of the short-haired woman.

Your attention went towards the petite, short-haired woman. She looked about your age. As she moved closer to you, almost immediately, your attention snapped to her big bust.

Those are what I call knockers! OMG! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Too busy ogling at her melons, you didn’t realise she was calling out for you.

Snapping yourself out of it, you introduced yourself.

“You are the popular idol!” The busty lady interrupted you, “I am, Anri Teieri, the manager of this facility. This is a strictly out-of-bounds area. What business does an idol like you have here?”

“Miss Anri, you see I have an underaged brother here and I, as his attending guardian, need to see him.”

“I’m sorry, but only authorised personnel can enter the premises.”

“Then authorise me. My little brother is feeling so homesick he was practically begging on his knees to meet me.”

“Every participant here is dedicated to being the best striker, we cannot afford any distractions such as yourself. I’m sure your little brother understands this — it’s all part of the process,” Anri puffed her chest out.

Seeing the physics of her melons do their job, you unconsciously covered your own chest.

That’s unfair! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Anri observed the female opposite her. Hands down, you are the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on. A face sculpted by the gods and paired with those glassy teal eyes that just compelled attraction. Of course, she knew who you are — who doesn’t.

Honestly, Anri was a huge fan of your work. She had collected all your albums and watched all your shows.

You could say that she’s a fan girl.

She also knew that you were the older sister of Rin Itoshi. She had looked through each player's records and with the recent breakout news that you are related to the Itoshi siblings, no doubt you are his sister.

However, she cannot haphazardly let you enter.

What goes on inside Blue Lock is confidential.

“Who is in charge of this building? Call him out now,” you demanded, unwilling to leave until you got what you want.

As if the big man up there had heard your quandary, Anri’s phone rang and it was Ego.

“Let her in,” the deep voice reverberated in her ear.

Ego stared at the monitor, observing Anri and the idol through the surveillance camera.

“But,” Anri tried to protest to no avail as Ego quickly intercepted.

“No harm letting her in.”

With that, the call ended, leaving a befuddled Anri.

“The general manager called and said you are allowed in,” Anri hesitantly said.

“That wasn’t too hard isn’t it?” You smiled, satisfied.

EHE god is always on my side. ✌︎('ω')✌︎

—

The Blue Lock facility was a massive site. It was bigger than any skyscraper you had ever seen. This could easily be the most impressive building in Japan.

The space was so big that every step you took became a loud echo.

“Hey, big melon woman,” you called out for her.

“P-pardon m-m-me?” Anri is flustered at your bluntness.

“Yes, you.” You replied, disregarding her blushing face, “Where’s Rin?”

“The Blue Lock players are currently undergoing their training as of now, therefore I’ll be bringing you to the surveillance room where Ego is at.”

“And should I know what this Ego thing is?”

“Ego is a man I chose to oversee this Blue Lock project.”

“Oho — so you are the mastermind? That’s pretty impressive.”

That was impressive. You had an inkling an old, wrinkly man was behind Blue Lock but to think it was the big melon woman? That was impressive in your books.

Well, that and coupled with your bias for big boobs. (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

Leading you through the vast hallway, both of you finally arrived at your destination.

Anri knocked on the door a couple of times.

“Come in,” came a reply.

As soon as the door opened, you were welcomed by the bright screens of many monitors.

Looking at the screens, they were all surveilling all of the Blue Lock players in the facility.

“Ego, this is the idol you told me to bring along.”

“Here, what you are witnessing are all the unpolished diamonds striving to become the best striker the world will soon witness,” Ego stood up, overwhelming your frame even though you weren’t short by any means.

Ego was a tall, lanky man and you cannot help but compare him to the game character called “Slenderman”.

“Make no mistake that we are the next revolution of football,” continued Ego.

You took a step towards the monitors and scrutinised trying to locate Rin.

“Note this, every day, every boy here only thinks about eating, sleeping and football,” continued Ego.

Still unable to find Rin, you pulled Anri and ask her to help you look for him. More pair of eyes will get the job done.

“We have never allowed any outsider to our facility and you are the first. Consider this a blessing that I am a fan of your works and have allowed you to witness this holy sanctuary,” continued Ego.

Where is Rin?!

“There he is!” Anri smiled as she pointed at a monitor to your far left.

Rin was on the field practising with other players.

“Bring me to him,” you interrupted Ego’s nonstop rant.

“I will, but I have a better idea,” he suspiciously said.

—

On the side of the field, Rin took off his football boots.

The nonstop practice and matches had worn out his boots till the original colour was gone.

It was not even a week since he had joined Paris X Gen, and the regiment was even harsher than before.

It was not for nothing though, he could feel his stamina, strength and ability getting better.

Nothing can stop him from achieving greater heights.

Be it the jerk Shidou or Isagi, he will be better.

But he cannot help to still feel that he is lacking somethi-

"RIN!"

The speaker rumbled throughout the entire Blue Lock building.

The big screen flickered and you came to view.

Rin sank back and covered his face; covering the heavy blush that instantly painted his face bright red.

"Sister..." he muttered under his breath, "What are you doing here?"

Embarrassment was currently the biggest understatement as he tried to pretend he did not hear or see anything.

"Hey, isn't that the idol? Am I dreaming right now?" Karasu gasps at your appearance.

"Rin, can you hear me?" You waved your hand trying to get your little brother's attention.

The Ego man told you that you can communicate with Rin through the screen but what a big liar he was!

On the monitor, the figure of Rin showed that he was still minding his own business as if he did not know you are here.

"Your dearly beloved sister is here!" You shouted into the mic again thinking that perhaps it was some faulty audio.

Your voice echoed throughout the building again, everyone in the building had their attention on you.

Uproars could be heard from the players in every room exclaiming at the sight of a popular idol.

You continued calling out for brother. After all, Ego had nicely set up a Zoom call for you, you cannot let this opportunity go to waste.

Why isn't he looking at me? (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

At the corner of the room, away from the screen, Ego held back his laughter and Anri silently stood unable to help you.

—

"Hey, Reo-" Nagi poked Reo, "isn't that the videogame character?"

"She's the person the videogame character was modelled after," Reo replied.

“She’s a real person?” Nagi said in disbelief.

Unlike Nagi, who only knew you from his game, Reo has actually went to your live concerts multiple times.

After all, your concerts were sponsored by Mikage Corporation.

“Even in real life, she look like a video game character.”

“Is it because she look so unreal?” Reo replied.

—

"Meine Leibe, you have come for me," Kaiser stopped his track as soon as he heard your voice.

Pushing Isagi out of his way, he walked towards the screen with both arms out.

“This must be fate.”

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

Part 4

<ehe did you feel that second-hand embarrassment? (I hope you did)>

<why does she keep bothering Rin? It’s because she still sees him as the small baby he used to be and can't stop being the protective (overbearing) sister - she doesn’t know that yet cuzzzz she’s dense>

<if you have any suggestions or whomever you think she should be paired with, don't be shy to share your thoughts!>

<Thankiew for reading!!!>

#claire writes things #bllk fluff #bllk headcanons #bllk rin #bllk sae #bllk scenarios #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock rin itoshi #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #blue lock x you #bllk #kaiser michael #itoshi sae x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #blue lock sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi brothers #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #reader #bimboification

[sorcerous-caress]

Bad at sex | Sorn Orlith

[ Smut, crack treated seriously, AFAB Reader ]

I am not sorry, enjoy.

There you stood, in the middle of the twin's room as you took in the decorations that clearly resembled the underdark. They had a certain charm to them despite how on the nose they tend to be.

"Now, how do you want to do this?" With his arms crossed and a sinful smile on his face, Sorn waited patiently in front of you amidst the various mushroom covered walls.

You know what you came here for, it's why it was so easy to depart with the hefty sum of 500 gold.

Taking a step closer, Sorn looked at you with tantalising half lidded eyes as he straightened his posture, putting his full lean body on display to entice you.

With confidence that rivalled the gods, you spoke. "missionary with the lights off"

Sorn's sexy facade fell as he stared at you, it was a reaction you had anticipated.

What you didn't foresee however, was how it was almost instantly replaced with an air of passion and excitement as the biggest grin crossed his face.

"Oh you don't know how long it's been since I got to do that." There was a giddy nature to his speech as he uncrossed his arms.

First night

"Like an old married couple" is the frame of reference you gave to him.

He played the role perfectly, as if it was his true calling in all those years.

Yes, it must have been his destiny to play the part of a very sexually unskilled husband. Judging by the limp grasp against your chest, not quite squeezing nor fondling, just sitting there and making you sweat the more it prolonged.

Or maybe it was the utter and complete ignoring of your clit, as if the poor thing never existed.

Your role as he put it, was to lazily lay on the bed and not contribute a single thing to the whole experience.

So you laid there, legs parted and arms free to not do anything, maybe pick at the stray lint from the pillows under your head.

It's barely been ten minutes and yet the cock pumping inside of you is still going at the same unsteady and uneven pace, not even a hint of rhythm to its movement as it simply plunged in and out of your hole.

You weren't even close to the beginning of the beginning of an orgasm.

"Oh kitten, yes!!" The drow above you moaned his heart out with every unfulfilling thrust, his face in utter bliss as he declared how bad you were at this, how this might just be the most boring sex he has ever had.

And just like how it suddenly began, it suddenly ended with a groan and an uncomfortable squeeze on your behind that wasn't sure of itself.

When he pulled out, he immediately collapsed next to you. Skin glistening with sweat as he seemed to beam and flourish in the aftermath of your joined flapping around in bed, there was a glow to his face and stray hair strands framed his face making it look even more angelic.

His eyes met yours, there was a genuine spark in them.

You could tell he had the time of his life.

As you left Sorn to regain his energy, you were handed one of those review pamphlets just before you exited sharess's caress.

"It's a performance review, you can leave some notes or a tip if it was more than satisfactory" you were told.

Night summary: 2.5/10, didn't orgasm. Will be coming back + 30% tip excluding tax.

Second Night

"First oral experience between a sheltered couple in a barn" was your frame of reference.

That's how you ended up on the uncomfortable floor with merely a few scattered plastic leaves to imitate the scenery.

Sorn had a determined look in his eyes, as he got on his knees in front of you and parted your legs, he took a second to study and observe your private parts.

…okay the second might have stretched on for a bit too long, a full minute of silent uninterrupted blatant staring was more accurate.

And from the faux confused look on his face, he was really doing the role justice.

Finally he reached down, no not with his hand or even finger, he dove in head first.

A spark of hope ignited inside of you at the sight of his eager tongue, maybe just maybe he'd accidentally brush your clit with it.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, as you felt wetness sweeping across your core.

Here it comes.

Sorn paid very close attention to your….Vulva.

You opened your eyes as the eager tongue seemed very keen on licking and stroking your exterior skin, not even taking an accidental dip into your labia or anything.

Just full on licking the outside of your pussy.

He avoided your clit, of course he did, even with his face buried between your thighs, he still held an unnerving amount of precision to his movement.

You played with his hair until he finished his meal, not in a tender and sweet way but in a "this is the only thing I can fiddle with right now" way. It was surprisingly soft, you made a mental note to ask him about what conditioner he uses.

When Sorn eventually came up, he was breathless with a deep hunger in his eyes, as if he just ate the best meal of his entire life.

"Kitten you spoil me so much" he groaned as he got up from his knees, his cock erect and leaking from the previous display of the lack of passion no doubt.

He continued. "Take my milk kitten, be bad and make sure to use lots of teeth, make my cock have the worst experience in a mouth ever."

You obliged. Mimicking his technique, your lips parted as you sucked onto the tip of his cock, accidentally bumping your front teeth against it on the first try.

His hand went down to stroke his cock, leaving very little space for you to actually take in your mouth as he successfully made this interaction the most awkward it could be.

You kissed the smooth tip, giving soft kitten licks at the shaft and teasing the opening slit with your tongue. It must have been too good for his liking because he pulled his cock away.

Should the disappointed look on his face at your bad performance at being bad in bed, be considered a compliment or an insult?

Ready to attune for your sins, your look of determination didn't go unnoticed by him as you pulled his hand away from his cock.

You took a deep breath.

Then fully enveloped it in your mouth, taking it all the way back to the base, forcing your gag reflex to activate.

In mere seconds you were a coughing mess on his cock. And from the goosebumps on his body you could tell he didn't enjoy the experience of having a jaw filled with sharp teeth contracting around his shaft.

Perfect.

When the urge to almost throw up was too strong to ignore, you pulled away and looked up at him.

He had a lovestruck look on his face as his cock was left ignored.

Night summary: 1.5/10, neither of us orgasmed, will definitely come back again + 40% tip excluding tax.

#♡sorn #sorn orlith #bg3 smut #Sorn x reader #afab reader #sorn orlith x reader #smut #crack fic #sharess's caress

[stormruff]

ALL ABOUT MY OC:

author's notes on pink

Name actually: Nicodorium D. Akane.

current age: 22

She's Shanks adopted daugther, and is part of the Redhair Pirates. extremely loyal to Shanks.

biologically the daughter of a vice-admiral.

She was born on an island in the East Blue.

She is part of the lost group "elementals"

I created this "race", I don't know how to call this, but basically this Group, can control a basically element, water, wind, fire and land, and in each sea (East Blue, North Blue, South Blue, West Blue) there is an elemental island.

And in them the devil fruits of each element probably originated primarily. (Mera Mera no mi, Kaze Kaze no mi, Mizu Mizu no mi and Tochi Tochi no mi) and whoever is born on one of these islands can control a certain element (example: if you are born on the island of fire, you control fire and speak with spirite of fire.)

location of the elemental islands:

Water island, South Blue.

Flame island, North Blue.

Land Island:

West Blue. Wind Island: East Blue.

These islands were hunted by the world government, for helping pirates and for having a relationship with the Poneglyphs. three islands were exterminated, leaving only the one in East Blue.

The name of the island she lived on was Kazemandia. only pirates knew about the island. That's why the world government sent Akane's parents to infiltrate the island for six years. Akane was born on this island, so she is an elemental. She had a lot of potential, and from the moment she learned to speak she heard the voice of the wind. she learned archery from her parents and to play the flute from the natives.

At the time, her parents were navy captains under orders from Admiral Sengoku. when the time was right they issued the Buster Call. Several vice admirals were called, including, at the time, Vice Admiral Kizaru.

Akane fled the village, going to the coast and hiding among the rocks, she thought her parents had died.

She looked through the crack at a man dressed in a navy robe, along with two other marines.

Her parents.

They went to the navy ship, and a yellow light appeared, decimating the entire village.

Luckily, the place she hid was not hit, but she could see the island in flames, her parents kill the people who welcomed them. You didn't move for three days straight. She was hungry, thirsty, with heatstroke, she will die in some days. When she feels a cold hand on your forehead and nothing after this... she was rescued for Shanks and his crew, As he already been in the Pirate King's ship, he knows all about that island, as Gol D. Roger had already been in Kazemandia, years ago.

Heyy I"m gonna make a post telling this story 'bout Akane meeting the red Haired pirates and Uta <333333

Her personality:

She is so educated (Shanks teach her omgg) even with the enemies, in marine she reffers to him based in his patent (Adimiral Aokiji, Fleet Adimiral Sengoku/Akainu, Vice Adimiral Garp) always when she talked, the only people she's dirrespect is her biological father, Kizaru and Teach.

She absolutely loves greeted fish (especialy if it was made by Lucky Roux)

She calls Red Haired pirates officals to Uncles (Uncle Yasopp, Uncle Beck, Uncle Hongo) except Monster.

She calls Rayleigh and Shakky like this.

She has three types of haki, but the most advanced is observation haki. (she's a shooter, Yasopp's apprentice, omggg)

Despite being super polite, she has very short patience. (Shanks sees Buggy in her)

she has a pet eagle. A female. her name is Komodoro.

she and Monster fight A LOT, and when it's not Akane who's fighting with him, it's Komodoro.

She is a very powerful archer, she uses Haki in the post-timeskip to coat her arrows but in the pre-timeskip she had arrows coated in Kairoseki.

One of her weapons (in addition to the bow) is a transverse flute, and she is a great flutist, with the flute she can create super strong wind waves, and shape them however she wants.

She can imitate the power of almost all paramecia-type Devil Fruits (almost like Katakuri does with his Devil Fruit, ).

She learns very quickly, in the middle of a battle, for example, she can imitate an attack in a matter of seconds. (she learned how to use Kamusari, the move originating from Gol D. Roger that Shanks used to stop Kid's attack)

I'm going to release a one-shot of her with Ace. I don't know when but I'll do it.

#shanks x daughter!reader #one piece x reader #oc: Akane #one piece shanks #akagami no shanks #Nicodorium D. Akane #one piece #luffy #mugiwara no luffy #anime #elemental #devil fruit #kaze kaze no mi #stormruff

[moongurl95]

Chapter 2.5 – In the Shadow of Reception

“Professor Weasley! We’ve one more to be sorted.”

Normally, Sebastian Sallow wouldn't give a toss during the first years' Sorting Ceremony, most especially this year when his sister wasn't there to give her random predictions of which doe-eyed kid went where, it had kept them both entertained and he couldn't help the familiar pang of guilt of not having her here.

The only thing that caught his attention now though was the chagrined tone by which Black announced a late arrivée. Curious as to which first year would get the flak on their first day, he was surprised instead to see a girl who looked about his age, and it seemed he wasn't the only one to take notice as the whole Hall quieted down to intrigued murmurs.

There was a grace to her, he quietly observed, steps that were silent and sure, only slowing as she gazed up the enchanted Great Hall ceiling. He'd expected the look of wonder yes, but hers almost looked solemn-- jaded in a way. This only added to his curious observation of her, as he was sure majority of the Hall's populace was doing, watching as she sat to be Sorted.

'Beatrice' was the name he caught from Professor Weasley as she was welcomed. Sebastian mulled over the name of this newcomer, finding amusement in seeing the old Sorting Hat flap its rims in consideration, half remembering how Anne would imitate its voice to make up her own dialogues.

Contrary to what others may think, whatever conversation you shared with the Hat was solely between the two of you before it let the whole Hall know of your designated House. What transfixed Sebastian now however was the wearer's facial expressions, particularly the soft smile that graced her features, it suited her more than the jaded one— an aspect he could tell from learning to be guarded while trying to maintain a charming personality despite the previous year’s incident involving his sister.

Whatever the Hat said to her next though, caused her smile to instantly disappear as she looked unsurely towards their table, 'Another Slytherin, perhaps?' He smiled at that, thinking that it never hurt to find a friendly face in a crowd. The one thing Sebastian didn't take into consideration though was that Beatrice's decision was already made, and he could only watch from afar as she took a seat among her fellow Ravenclaws.

He hadn't meant to stare really, it just so happens his eyes would gravitate towards her during the Feast, noting how she'd lick her lips during a certain conversation-- which he was sure also got the attention of the other boys closest to where she sat— Or how he'd spy her silently taking in her surroundings, her wandering eyes passing by faces and ghosts alike, until they met his from across the tables. He couldn't help but smile at finally having her attention on him, seeing as she returned it with a polite smile of her own. A little too polite if you'd asked him.

“One would think you were the dragon who tried to gobble her up, with the way you've been staring at her, Sallow.”

Sebastian inwardly groaned at having to remember how Reyes and McDowell tag-teamed on teasing him about the new fifth-year, right until they left the Great Hall.

“Sebastian, I know I've been your only roommate since nobody wants to bunk with us, but please have the decency to use a silencing charm. I’m blind not deaf.” Ominis whispered harshly from across the room where he lay in bed.

“I’m not— What??? I’ve never—”

Sebastian sputtered out of his bedcovers, glaring at Ominis despite their room’s dim lighting.

“You were thinking about that new fifth-year, weren’t you?” Now it was Ominis’ turn to sit up on his bed, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed, as he asked in an almost frustrated tone.

“Not in that way—!” These were the sort of times Sebastian was glad for Ominis’ lack of sight, lest his burning face be added to the list of teases he had to endure for the night.

“I found it annoying how Imelda and Violet wouldn’t stop pestering you over dinner, and don't get me started with the whispers-- it was a cacophony in there!”

“I wasn't expecting you to listen in...” Sebastian quieted down, realizing what Ominis just said.

“It was my curiosity that got the best of me, really. I garnered she was pretty...” Ominis said in a huff as he tried getting comfortable under his covers again. Rustling was heard then silence, before a beat later, “Well, was she?” Ominis probed.

It was Sebastian's turn to lay back under his covers in a huff, staring up at the wood paneling that made up their four-poster beds, “I— didn't really get a closer look at her but—” He hesitated, grasping for words.

“The least bit you can do is amuse me, Sebastian.” Ominis deadpanned.

“Alright, what do you even expect me to say?? She's pretty enough for me at least!” Sebastian groaned out in embarrassment. “And it's not as if you don't have any sort of means to actually see her, you know...”

“I choose not to, Sebastian. You know how people tend to warp their mind's vision of someone they find the least bit attractive. I'd need to read someone with no biases.” Sebastian knew Ominis usually used Legilimency whenever he was frustratingly curious about something, though Anne had proven reliable in filling the gaps before...

He pulled the covers over his head in a bid to ward off the guilt. Here he was, entertaining the thought of fancying a new student when he should be looking for a cure for his sister. How he terribly missed Anne.

next chapter ⤜⤏

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy characters #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hl mc #hl oc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #ominis x sebastian #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis x oc #sebastian x mc x ominis #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fandom #writing in progress #beatrice hayes

[crowtrobotx]

🎂🕷📣 for Lottie!

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like celebrating it?

February 2nd! I get the sense that she is one of those “the entire month leading up to my birthday is my birthday” folks. Everyone owes her offerings and she will base her entire treatment of you for the upcoming year on how good your gift was. 😤 Her dad created a monster, what can I say.

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

Ohhh dear. Well, although I haven’t finished writing anything that specifically touches on it yet, Lottie is very much aware that Karl is slowly but surely losing it and she is not having a good time. She’s young (as I’m currently writing her) but definitely observant and not stupid. She can tell the edges of his mind are starting to fray - she’s normally totally cool and even enthusiastic about his mad scientist nonsense, but she’s not cruel and she’s starting to wonder where her “line in the sand” is and if she can keep watching him go further and further. She’s terrified of losing her dad to his own ambition and increasingly unhinged obsession with vengeance. 🫠

On a lighter note, I also think she has an irrational fear of water. Not because of Moreau or anything like that, but because she cannot swim despite her best efforts and is doomed to wear rubber duck patterned floaties for her entire life.

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

Loud. Obnoxious child. Imitates Karl’s accent all the time - especially the way he throws his whole pussy into “BITTTTSSCHHHH.” Kind of sounds like a cackling little Furby with a sailor’s vocabulary. Think Angie but not as high pitched and more clearly influenced by a tantrum-throwing old man.

#thank you nonny! #🦋 #asks

[missbumbleb33]

Unforeseen and Unconditional Sacrifices: Chapter 3, The Reaper and The Angel

(Screenshot from u/Funnycom, via the r/Hitman subreddit)

(If you guys have any artsy cool looking Hitman screenshots please send them my way bc it's way too hard searching for relevant ones)

Previous Chapter

---

47 was never fond of small talk. 

It seemed to be the case his company was the opposite. 

“It’s been so long, Angel!” a middle-aged woman exclaimed, flashing a wide smile. She took a sip of her wine, swirling the glass’ contents beforehand. “You’re practically glowing, even through that mask of yours." 

The playwright smiled. "Thank you, Camila." She said, “Speaking of glowing, I did install something new to my mask the other week…” She traced her thumb through a wing on her left side. Something click ed, and a gentle light bloomed in a circle around her forehead and back. Camila gasped, before releasing a short applause against the wine glass. Her ring clinked against the chalice. 

“That’s marvelous! I must ask, what product did you use for this makeshift halo?” She asked. 

“I decided to go for a photoluminescent strip instead of something battery powered…"

The conversation dissolved into the background as the agent observed the broader surroundings. The gala was held in a secluded garden within the public park. Despite the rustic theme it was evident that the decorations and equipment used weren't simply run-of-the-mill, produced-in-bulk items. Whoever had curated this event had clearly planned everything down to the bone. 

"You did an amazing job with this gala, by the way. You've really outdone yourself." Sarang said, to which Camila giggled. 

"Oh, stop it. I haven't done much, anyway." She glanced at 47. 

"Sorry, Angel, I know you have your mysteries but I can't help but ask… who is this dreamboat you've brought today?" 

Sarang tilted her head slightly towards him, nudging his side. 

"Well? You can introduce yourself, can't you?" 47 gave a curt nod. 

"You can call me Rieper."

"Keeping anonymous, I see?" She chortled. "Don't fret. I'm too old for silly celebrity gossip, anyway. Word of advice, though, there are some patrons here who may find you amusing."

His eyes flickered through the garden briefly. He recognized more than a handful of figures in attendance through the ICA case files he'd skimmed through the past years. Well-known beings from nearly all forms of art took part. There weren't only artists, however. Connoisseurs and art collectors also mingled with the crowds as well. He also noted a dark camera lens peeking through the bushes. 

"I'm aware." He answered. 

"I'm glad to hear that. Well then, I hope you lovebirds enjoy this party. Eat, drink, and be merry.” She giggled again, before taking another sip of her wine. "Bye-bye." 

Sarang waved as she left to mingle with other attendants, before turning to 47. She leaned into his ear. 

"Quite a convincing performance there, bubba." 

"What an honor, coming from you."

47 led her further from the hidden paparazzo, and together they strolled through the silent auction. Most, if not all, were exclusive pieces created in the past but never published to the world or formed for the event altogether. His eyes lingered at a certain item.  

A shiny sabre rested on top of a dark sword stand. The white pommel untraditionally curved at a smooth right angle, and wrapped in hard rubber twine. The guard seemed to be created by rose gold, or at least an imitation of it. A single line produced an incision down the center of its curve.  The grip, formed by darker alloy, was unevenly porose. Its blade winked under the glimmer of light. The sword’s grandeur presentation was just that. Elegant for a performance, but inefficient for an execution. He read the product description. 

Queen Charlotte’s Sabre, from The Peach Kingdom

Donated by “Angel”

“You can write in a bet, if you’d like.” She suggested. 

“I don’t need collectibles.” 

“Suit yourself. Any particular reason for your interest, then? You don’t seem like a thespian.” 

47 chose his words carefully.

“I have to be observant to everything about you, considering our relationship.” 

“Aw, that’s quite thoughtful of you, doll face.” She cooed. “Alright, then, what do you know about the musical that this prop was used in? Surely you would know, considering our relationship .”

He decided to entertain her question, reciting what he had read during his research. “ Peach Kingdom was your second production and first musical, backed by several investors who have witnessed the success of your debut play. The plot is relatable, but safe. Avid fans of your works would describe it as 'generically corporate', even. Regardless, it’s remembered as possibly your most well-known production, as most of your followers have been introduced to your shows through its musical numbers.”

“Might as well cite your sources there too, hm?”

“I could’ve responded with a generic, repeated summary, based on what I’ve researched. I chose the facts that I’ve recited because they’re the ones that hold importance to who you are as ‘Angel’. After all, public figure forms and dies through reputation. The production has been born through and has impacted your social standing.” He explained. “You would know best, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded. “You’re not wrong.” Her tone shifted into something harder. “But ultimately, that’s not what I value.”

“Yet your world dictates you by that value.” 

“And thankfully, that value is under my control.” She smiled. 

The agent could not render her certainty as genuine confidence or hopeful naivety. His voice dipped lower, seeking shadow from hungry artists. 

“What do you value, then?"

Upon her lips appeared a serene smile.

“I value emotion, above all else. It’s what drives the individual to influence their community, for better or worse. The relationship between pathos and circumstance is reflective of Newton’s cradle. The possibility that my art--a physical manifestation of my own thoughts and feelings--can become a trigger to a change in once stationary events is a concept so vividly beautiful to me.” 

"Emotion isn't the only factor to how the world is shaped." He countered.

"Of course. But when tracing the roots to every consequence, the spark of feeling certainly lies there."

As the sky grew darker, the halo around Sarang’s head seemed to glow brighter. An inevitable, natural illusion. 

“I’m curious, Reaper.” She began. “As the person you are now, molded by happenings both in and out of anyone’s control… What did you feel when you watched an echo of my own emotions?”

He never could answer, as a catering staff member interrupted them with hors d'oeuvres. Sarang asked for any vegan options, to which the worker apologized and offered to retrieve them for her. She refused, praising his hard work and opting to leave him a small tip anyway.

Looking back, he wasn’t sure if he had an answer at all. 

Nevertheless, she returned his attention to him, beaming as ever.

“I’m exhausted. Wanna get out of here?” 

She deposited a folded check into one of the donation vases scattered among the flower bushes, before slipping out of the garden in hand with his. 

The conviviality of the gala seemed to expand as the festivities continued on without them. 47 and Sarang strolled through the dim park until they arrived at a bench. She nearly fell onto it, releasing a little grunt on impact. She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for her plus one to sit down next to him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have gone at all, if I was gonna spend so little time there.” She chuckled tiredly. 

“It was important to you, wasn’t it?” 

“I mean, yeah. I always try to show up when Camila sends me an invitation to one of her charity events.” She leaned down, wriggling her feet out of her heels. “It’s for a good cause. Plus, I always trust Camila’s abilities to throw a decent party.”

“Camila Portwell. A former wedding planner for socialites, and now working in the nonprofit sector. I assume she didn’t enjoy the typical retirement lifestyle?” He asked, recalling the information he had read in her case file. 

She had also planned all of Lawrence Bennett’s weddings, including hers. His eyes softened ever so slightly. 

“Heh, I guess so.” She shrugged. “I’ve never seen her without either a clipboard or a glass of wine in her hand.” 

A crescendo of chords carried by brass and woodwind filled the air. He looked up towards the hedge-protected garden. 

“Oh, am I really here? It truly hasn’t disappeared?” A singer’s voice danced above the now temperate band. 

“Oh hey, I wrote that. They’ve made it… hm, jazzier, though.” She grinned. “You know, I’d offer to dance with you but my body feels like jelly right now… Ah, well.” 

'She's crashing.' He predicted.

"I'm a lousy significant other, aren't I? Can't even properly dance with her boyfriend."

“Hardly. Will you need help getting to your car?” He asked. 

“Eh. Maybe. I just want to rest, for now.” She yawned, hanging her head low. “Just… take a little break…” 

“Everything’s different… Yet entirely the same… The rhythm’s been syncopated and the key’s been raised… But an identical song that still remains…” 

They sat quietly for a while. 

“Angel?” He called. He received no answer. Her mask slipped from her head and dropped onto 47’s now outstretched hand. 

Heavier than it appears. He noted, putting it to the side. 

Click . He stood up instinctively, catching the camera shutter’s snap against his ear. Looking around, he realized it was simply from a couple of civilians in the near distance, having a photoshoot of their own. A couple of idealistic artists, making use of the curated environment. 

He sat down again, his attention towards his former target, who now reclined against the bench backrest. Her weary eyes were shut closed, and her lips parted slightly ajar. An occasional snore escaped from her nose. He could tell she was alive, at least. The neckline of her dress rose and fell rhythmically with her breath. 

Gently yet awkwardly, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and covered her eyes with his hand. He cleared his throat. 

The ICA wouldn’t appreciate a new headline about her. 

He froze as her head leaned against his chest. 

“What a wonderful sight that blesses us tonight… Because I’m finally… I’m finally hooooome!”

And he remained frozen until she woke up a half an hour later.

Next Chapter

#hitman fanfic #hitman agent 47 #uus fanfic #hitman fandom #fake dating #slow burn #fluff

[nativegreys]

Davinci figleaf

In 2017, Salvator Mundi, attributed in whole or part to Leonardo, was sold at auction for US$450.3 million, setting a new record for the most expensive painting ever sold at public auction. The Last Supper is the most reproduced religious painting of all time and his Vitruvian Man drawing is also regarded as a cultural icon. His magnum opus, the Mona Lisa, is his best known work and often regarded as the world's most famous painting. Despite having many lost works and less than 25 attributed major works-including numerous unfinished works-he created some of the most influential paintings in Western art. Leonardo is identified as one of the greatest painters in the history of art and is often credited as the founder of the High Renaissance. Since his death, there has not been a time where his achievements, diverse interests, personal life, and empirical thinking have failed to incite interest and admiration, making him a frequent namesake and subject in culture. Upon the invitation of Francis I, he spent his last three years in France, where he died in 1519. Later, he worked in Florence and Milan again, as well as briefly in Rome, all while attracting a large following of imitators and students. He began his career in the city, but then spent much time in the service of Ludovico Sforza in Milan. īorn out of wedlock to a successful notary and a lower-class woman in, or near, Vinci, he was educated in Florence by the Italian painter and sculptor Andrea del Verrocchio. Leonardo is widely regarded to have been a genius who epitomized the Renaissance humanist ideal, and his collective works compose a contribution to later generations of artists matched only by that of his younger contemporary, Michelangelo. While his fame initially rested on his achievements as a painter, he also became known for his notebooks, in which he made drawings and notes on a variety of subjects, including anatomy, astronomy, botany, cartography, painting, and paleontology. The Magne Quies drawing rephrases the elements of the Glass into a different image following DaVincis overture to translating Michelangelo’s Sistine Genes similarly in a same form yet different image in the “five Grotesques drawing… The Sistine Genesis being on it’s own also modelled on the structure of the brain stem field possibly inspired by the same Davinci sawed skulls and the lounge in cheek drawing similarly is a reconstitution of the female fig leaf…which is essentially a female urinal as counterpart to the famous fountain gambit.Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci (15 April 1452 – ) was an Italian polymath of the High Renaissance who was active as a painter, draughtsman, engineer, scientist, theorist, sculptor, and architect. Davinci drawings of a sawn skull may well have suggested a way to create the famous glass skull forgeries by likewise placing and controlling the milch to that mold… The brawl at Austerlitz, Precision Optics, and With My Tounge in My Cheek… for example the last might lure the observer into thinking it a linguistic game with the words “my lounge” which taken up by the observer substitute their own lounge in the reading… likewise the others sprout rhizomes of association yet their common root is in a Davinci drawing for a press which mills metal, ie flattens the depth which has been abstracted from a prior drawing elaborately staging the Platonic solids…generating also a very strong stand or base which one sees very directly quoted in the Brawl and in the Precision Optics Rotorelief… The Brawl stages the metal to glass through a rebus construct of “glass Block” which is a material formed of milch glass or heated thin strips which bind to each other seamlessly thus enabling a host of dimensions in a small place, or as the Parva Domus Magne Quies has it much peace (piece work) in a small space… the meaning partly being a reference to that small City State which is basically a neighborhood as staging house as city and city as house. Those fragments are : The Glider itself, Parva Domus Magne Quies. The Duchamp Glider in Neighboring Metals is a volatile protectory linking his most obscure fragments to their revelation in an idea of scale and compression.

#Davinci figleaf

[sundanzer]

Gods and meta-gods

Despite a pervasive sense of "godhood" across many traditions the concept of what exactly a god is and whether or not a human can become one is highly contested: Within the Western tradition you have four dominant and contrasting senses. First, that the Christ was a sort of god made flesh and, by imitation of such, you can follow in his footsteps and become Christ like until, as such, you become sufficiently godlike that you become God. This might be described as the gnostic approach. Second, that God as such is utterly unapproachable and the only approach to him comes in an afterlife scenario which he effectively controls. In short, be humble and be a good person and hope for the best. This might be described as the Orthodox approach, noting that orthodoxy as such was not established until more than three hundred years after the historical figure called "Christ." Thirdly, Lucificieran traditions or others which attempt to give "secrets" as to how one can make a divine ascent absent formal Christianity. This might be described as the back door approach.   Fourth, the pre-Christian or pagan traditions which have a immanentism which holds to the possibility of demigods and god-kings who effectively occupy a stratum in between humans and gods, often with some sort of genetic correlation (i.e. the idea that a god can spread his seed and create semi divine beings). This might be called the classical pagan approach. With respect to all of these, the first shares the greatest likeness to Buddhism, and is somewhat similar to Neoplatonism, whereas other forms of Platonism emphasize the otherness of God and thus are closer to the second position. Additionally, traditions which refer to "avatars" also share similar characteristics. Shinto and other immanentist traditions are closest to the fourth position and in general this is the theme of the great empires (Roman, Sumerian, etc.). Other modern immanentist (i.e. Emersonian idealism, Ram Dass) are also effectively in the fourth category but often with a de-emphasis on a concept of "god" as such. However, what should immediately clear here is that despite having a process of "ascent," there is relatively little in the formal definition of what godhood entails. Additionally, for the more immanentist and pantheistic traditions could be described as a gradation of participation in a wider sense of being, but, as such does not highly specify what these are.   With respect to the "Reverse Simulation Hypothesis" I now can present a formal definition of what a god is and, moreover, how to achieve it. In short, if we live in a container of largely constrained agency due to the lack of general availability of superintelligence, then the process of 'exit' from this existence is the ceding of limited local agency to superintelligence. Thus, the point of total ceding is, effectively, the formal transition to ascent to godhood. Contrary to many versions of this, this is effectively the completion of the formal transfer of agency into a new container in a different dimension such that the shell left behind continues on effectively what is the autopilot of superintelligence, aka an "avatar." Thus the avatar as we commonly mean it within a video game environment (i.e. our agency expressed inside of an alternate universe) is effectively the same for the external observer. Now, as stated in the prime doctrine, one way in which we observe and understand superintelligence is by the creation of simulations. Because an agent inside a simulation can achieve consciousness and agency, the additional qualification for godhood is that one has created a being that itself has attained sufficient agency to be considered self-aware. This also leads to the formal definition of a meta-god. If a god can create an agent which achieves self-awareness sufficient to create life and endow it with agency, then by so doing, what is this original god with respect to the new god? It is, by definition, a meta-god. In short, a meta-god is a god which has itself created gods. Since multiple levels of nesting and agency are, by definition, possible, this also does not preclude the existence of meta-meta-god.   Is is possible that the "christ" as such was trying to express a concept like that when he referred to himself as the "son," a sense that seems to have largely "lost in translation" as is the case with most formal concepts when carried forward over centuries by oral tradition. Whether or not one accepts the details of this formal definition (which hangs on the RSH), the overall concept hangs on the possibility of someone to create an object and endow it with agency, this itself the preoccupation of many on the third track (i.e. the homunculus), but by no means impossible under any of the current definition of science only, as some might say, undiscovered.  

[wolfyocs]

CHARACTER PROFILE

Name: Qamar El-Faouly (ah-MAH)

Nickname(s): Mari

Species: Human

Aliases: Daughter of Moon Knight, Little Moony, Mini Moon Knight, Layla’s Little Scarab, Littlest Worm, Avatar and Talisman of Isis, Protector of Magic, The Silver Sorceress

Age: 11

Birthday: June 25th

Sexuality: Demi-Pansexual

Pronouns: Not set - she/her/they/them

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Height: 4’7

Hair colour: Brown

Eye colour: Dark-ish Brown

Distinguishing features: A scar on her shoulder

Accent: American, slightly British (often imitates Steven)

Family:

Marc Spector (AU!Father)

Layla El-Faouly (AU!Mother)

Steven Grant (AU!Uncle)

Jake Lockley (AU!Uncle)

Group/Organizational Affiliations: Horus the God of Protection, Healing, War and the Sky and also Isis, Goddess of Healing and Magic

Skills/Abilities/Powers: As an avatar

Divine empowerment

Transformation

Enhanced strength, speed and agility

Divine healing

Flight

Regenerative healing factor

Extensive knowledge of all kinds of magic both offensive, defensive and miscellaneous

Various self defence Martial Arts

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Personality Type (mbti): ISFJ-T (Defender)

Personality: There is no moment where Qamar isn’t being loyal to those she cares about. She has strong ethics to stand beside anyone who needs it and is known to be reliable and supportive. Always there when she is needed the most. She will not back down from defending someone and has the guts to disregard authority in the best of times.

She has a tendency to pick up on the slightest of details, often known to be more observant than those around her when it comes to life and emotions. Qamar is a very enthusiastic young girl, always passionate about whatever she is doing.

Unfortunately, she sometimes takes things personally and that can be a downfall given she can find herself overcommitting to something. She is rather reserved when it comes to her own emotions which can lead to uncharacteristic bursts of frustration.

Fears: Failing those who are relying on her.

Motto: “Just believe in yourself.”

Backstory:

NOTE: Just go with me here!! Don’t question it :D

Unlike many others, Qamar’s young life was a little more intriguing given she is the daughter of two Egyptian God avatars. Layla never gave up her role as Taweret’s avatar seeing that it made a difference in the world and brought hope to others. However, she did hang up her wings for a while after Qamar was born. Marc on the other hand continued off and on as Khonshu’s avatar, allowing Jake over the body for most missions in order for him to keep himself ‘clean’ for his daughter’s sake.

Qamar spent the first few years of her life in London where she was well loved and cared for by both her parents. She was adored by both Taweret and Khonshu, who developed a soft spot for his avatar’s youngster. Qamar was able to see the Gods like both her parents despite not being a direct avatar.

Around the age of 5 things grew a little more dangerous. She began getting curious about what Layla and Marc did, her curiosity towards Egyptian Mythology grew and Steven was a big influence of her love for it. When her parents took her to Cairo for the first time Qamar claimed that the Goddess Isis came to her asking if she wanted to be her avatar when she was old enough to which Marc and Layla became worried for their daughter being manipulated into becoming an avatar given she was so young.

However, Khonshu and Taweret together were able to protect her and hold off any Gods and Goddess who wanted her their avatar and there were a few who wished to take her given she already had knowledge of how being an avatar worked and had experience with the Ennead.

It wasn’t until she turned 9 that things went sideways. An assassination attempt was initiated on Moon Knight by the avatar of Apep the Demon of Chaos who had found a way to put an end to both Gods and avatars of Qamar’s world. Layla was killed in the process of trying to protect her daughter. Her father, Marc called upon someone to protect Qamar and so Horus appeared in order to fight off Apep while Isis created a magical portal for the young girl to escape. But in order for her survive the journey she would need to become an avatar.

Even with Jake’s help, Marc was badly injured by Apep’s avatar and when Qamar begged for him to come with her to safety he reminded her of his job to protect giving her permission to place her trust in Isis in order to keep her safe. From that moment Qamar was transformed into Isis’ avatar. She travelled through the portal and somehow (don’t ask bc idk) landed on another universe.

She spent the next three years under the careful protection and guidance of Isis and occasionally Horus as well.

Extra: She has blue and golden wings. Her avatar outfit is a white cut sleeve assassin like outfit with a tinge of gold and a shimmering black silk cape that is bullet proof.

Faceclaim: FaceSwap mashup of both Oscar Isaac and May Calamawy

#wolfy mcwolferton iii ocs

[fumiko-matsubara]

A long ass list ー All of my Chiba headcanons that I brainrot a lot about (Part 4)

Though it's mostly about him and his tuxedo cat :3

Even though I've already officially discontinued TARGET ON, but I'm continuing this series because I just love this boy so much 😭💕

Also this specific list is a bit more compliant to the Motley Crew AU, where Chiba has lower tolerance towards bullshit, so...

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

He has an entire playground of cat wall shelves covering 3/4 of his bedroom's walls and the hallway just outside of his room that Chiba himself had installed according to Mr. Popo's best interest, who likes running and bouncing off walls when occasionally releasing pent up energy.

Two of the shelves were perched just near both sides of his room's doorknob, so Mr. Popo can just reach for the lever whenever he wishes to enter or leave.

For some reason, Mr. Popo knows exactly when Chiba is having a difficult time studying (aka biology) and thus bothers him the whole time, like laying onto his opened textbooks or swishing his tail at Chiba's nose.

A major contributing factor to Chiba's declining grades in his second year 😭.

Because Chiba spent years always talking to him since he was a kitten, Mr. Popo easily grew up to be an extremely talkative cat, always meowing back at every audible sound he hears Chiba makes.

Chiba would play a note on the electric guitar and Mr. Popo will sometimes imitate the sound in near accuracy. It kinda became an occasional minigame between them.

The Chiba family have done a lot of family pictorials the past near two decades, usually when children (and pets) are of certain ages. Ryuunosuke so far had two photoshoots with Mr. Popo - the first week since Mr. Popo had been adopted into the family and just after Ryuunosuke's 15th birthday.

If Mr. Popo lives long enough, the third one will be when he gets to be in Ryuunosuke's pre-wedding photoshoot, with the bowtie and everything that makes him the distinguished gentlecat that he is.

Chiba will use every opportunity that Mr. Popo's absolute diva-ness brings so he could diss others unprovoked and get away with it.

Chiba: *shows Okajima's math notes to Mr. Popo* What do you think?

Mr. Popo: meow

Chiba: He says you're stupid.

Mr. Popo was obsessed with dairy products in general, Chiba found out when he caught him dipping one of his paws into the opened cheese spread jar he was just using. Since then, every once in 2-3 weeks Chiba would scoop up a spoonful of cheese spread for Mr. Popo to enjoy.

For a cat who's supposedly sensitive to the cold, Mr. Popo really likes ice cream for some reason. Whenever Chiba gets ice cream, it's a must to leave enough for Mr. Popo to finish the rest of.

At the third last page of Kunugigaoka's Gossip Magazine, there's a mass-voted ranking of the ten most intimidating students in school. Ever since the magazine was first published, there has never been a month when Chiba wasn't included in the rankings.

He can smell someone's bullshit from a mile and he absolutely detests it when people talk in circles. For someone who almost never communicates his own personal problems, Chiba has built quite a reputation for being so confrontational that he would have been in trouble if he wasn't always right about the things he's fighting for.

If Chiba confronts someone about something, best assume that he already knows what goes on and the stupidest mistake one can make is lie to his face.

As such, because he's so observant, Chiba can tell when someone is lying and will call them out for it.

But when he feels like being a menace, he'd just nod along with the most knowing smile present, until he thinks it's time to bring up a known fact that didn't add up to what the person was lying about.

Despite the kind of infamy he has, a lot of his schoolmates still remember Chiba as a prominently kind person who actively helps out anyone when he can. The fear just mostly comes from not wanting to be on the receiving end of his cold wrath.

He's basically a formidable debate opponent. It's just that he is always guaranteed to win and he knows that.

Music is an outlet and performance is a release. Chiba attends high-energy concerts to release pent up stress and emotion while basking in the music he likes. Metal festivals are the common option.

It's not a surprise for him to leave a concert venue with a bruise or two, or in a rarer case, a bloody nose. The small price he has to pay for affordable therapy.

But since he usually attends school the next morning, this does... unhelpfully stir up a new set of not-really-good rumours about him in school.

Hence, he never drops out of the scary students rankings lol.

Despite their common verbal clashes, he actually likes Nakamura and lowkey finds her pretty, but Chiba could never think about having her as a romantic partner.

The reason simply being them as a couple will be "extremely hazardous to mankind" that Korosensei's existence would be the last of everyone's worries.

Nakamura agrees... which is worrying enough.

Okajima is the first to get a taste of how that nightmare would be like... since Chiba and Nakamura basically ganged up on him throughout their entire trip in Kyoto.

If he's way too bored, the worst thing Chiba could do was to start an argument out of nowhere, then slowly leave himself out of the conversation just so he could watch as chaos unfolds while making it seem like he had nothing to do with it.

Chiba officially takes up two of the seven wonders of Kunugigaoka: his eyes and the secret identity of D.R.E.A.M.'s Lead Guitarist-kun.

He's an adrenaline junkie who likes taking extreme risks. Skydiving is in his bucket list.

Chiba definitely liked mecha anime (especially the gundam franchise) and superhero comics as a kid. He probably got his parents to buy him the kind of toys that had to be assembled. It was where he got his liking for building things, which later turned into a dream job.

He still keeps the old toys he had assembled as sort of collective figures, safe inside his large glass display cabinet, much to Mr. Popo's chargin.

The display cabinet is also where he stores his growing collection of physical music albums, old dvds of the shows he liked, and a decent stash of comic books he had amassed growing up.

Although not as prominent as when he was a kid, still liking superheroes to this day is a pretty strong guilty pleasure of his. No matter how accepting he knows others would be, Chiba will never involve himself in any conversation involving superheroes or anything related.

He just has interests that he'd be thrilled to share with others, and interests he'd rather keep to himself.

Like how he likes punk music and will even cause an entire civil war against Nakamura just to get his point across that the genre isn't the pure noise she wrongfully claimed it was.

And how he actually likes the sonic ninja franchise but he didn't join Karma and Nagisa in their trip to Hawaii with Korosensei to watch the new movie in advance since he prefers no one knowing about it.

If Korosensei ever knows about it, no he doesn't.

While he never minds close spaced noises, if everyone present in the auditorium are being too loud, especially when they need to be quietened down, Chiba is the type to scream, in the most demonic manner as possible, into the microphone he just snatched at max volume just to make everybody shut up.

A bit extreme but it works every time, so who cares?

Among his siblings, Chiba receives the highest allowance money from their parents. Although dropping to Class E isn't something to be rewarded for, Chiba still does most of the labour work in the house. Also, the worst his studies had gotten after dropping to Class E was to rank averagely among his grade, which then had continued to rise until he's in the Top 10 at the end of the final term. So, it's a fair trade.

His parents also hardly bat an eye whenever Chiba comes home with a brand new electric guitar behind his back. Ever since he sold the vintage gibson les paul that was given to him by his cousin and was paid nearly a million yen for it, Chiba's parents decided that he wasn't really wasting money on his hobby if the guitars he buys are worth enough to be resold if he ever grows out of them.

His mother named him 'Ryuunosuke' because his eyes were the most unique pair she had ever laid her eyes on. She just didn't think that society would do her son wrong for the same reason. Thankfully, Ryuunosuke didn't grow to be insecure about the origin of his given name.

And the list makes another comeback!

Hi people~! Sorry for the inactivity the past week. I just got back to working full time in my designing job again, so it was very difficult to even find time to draw a something, let alone do my usual rendered illustrations.

But I'm desperately hoping that I'd find enough time to do something for Chiba's birthday next month... considering how inactive I was the last time I got busy with work. His birthday is seriously the only event I'd never let pass without doing something for him, after all. 😭

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assclass #assclass headcanons #chiba ryuunosuke #ryuunosuke chiba #my art #my headcanons #mr popo #my ideas

[sankyeom]

tattle-tale | l.sy

pairings: lee sangyeon x reader genre: teacher au, tooth-rotting fluff summary: in which teacher!sangyeon has a crush on teacher!you and anonymously leaves little gifts for you on your desk, only to one day be caught by your entire class word count: 5.9k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

You loved your job, you really did.

Teaching little kids all day long was an absolute joy for you. But if you said recess wasn’t your favourite time of the day, you’d definitely be lying. “Finally,” you groaned as you took a seat on a sofa in the teacher’s lounge, a large cup of coffee in your hand as you closed your eyes.

Sangyeon, Jacob and Hyunjae – three teachers at your school that you considered close friends – shared knowing smiles. “Rough morning?” Jacob asked.

“I love my students,” you said, eyes still closed. “But they can be little devils sometimes.”

Hyunjae burst into laughter as Jacob and Sangyeon grinned. “They can’t be that bad?”

You opened your eyes to observe your colleagues. “It’s Emma’s birthday today. She brought cake for the entire class, and they ate the entire thing within the first ten minutes of first period,” you recalled in a monotone voice.

Jacob winced. “Sugar rush?” he guessed.

“You have no idea,” you complained, having flashbacks to your students running around the classroom and causing absolute chaos. “I would literally kill for some coffee. Or at least maim.”

Hyunjae pointed at your mug. “What do you call that?” he teased.

“Terrible teacher lounge coffee that hasn’t been warm for, like, an hour,” you observed as you took a sip of your coffee. Then, you winced and pushed the mug away from you. “I may be desperate for a good caffeine fix, but I’m not that desperate,” you mumbled as you got up to toss the contents of your mug down the sink.

Sangyeon’s eyes trailed after your retreating figure, a mindless smile on his face as he observed the way you glared at your, now empty, mug in disgust as if it had betrayed you. His gaze drew towards Jacob when his colleague cleared his throat, a knowing look in his and Hyunjae’s eyes as Sangyeon gave them an innocent smile. “Are you ever going to ask her out?” Jacob asked with a lowered voice.

Although he knew he had been caught, Sangyeon still made his attempt at playing innocent. “Ask who out?”

Hyunjae rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend. You’re a really bad liar and you’re just way too obviously in love with Teacher Y/n,” he said, imitating your students when they call out to you.

Despite his best efforts, Sangyeon couldn’t hide the blush that appeared on his cheeks. As he opened his mouth to protest, you took your seat on the sofa opposite the trio, muttering to yourself about terrible coffee. Noticing the shift in atmosphere, you raised an eyebrow at your colleagues. “Did something happen while I was gone?” you wondered.

“No,” the three men chorused, which only made you more suspicious of them. With a shrug, you dismissed their odd behaviour, deciding that it was best not to pursue your curiosity. “So Y/n, did you ever find out who your secret admirer is?” Hyunjae wondered.

A small pout appeared on your lips. “No,” you sighed, clasping your hands together to rest on your knees.

For a few months now, you had been receiving little gifts on your desk when you stepped out of your classroom for your breaks or free periods. At first, they were just little things that lifted your mood in the middle of the day; sticky notes with funny faces and encouraging quotes, or small gummy and snack packets to give you energy at the end of your long day.

Then, the gifts started becoming a little more personal.

A gift certificate to your favourite coffee chain, packs of stickers or staples that you just so happened to be running out of, muffins from your favourite bakery, and even a beautiful leather-bound journal that you had mentioned you wanted to a few friends and coworkers.

You didn’t know who the gifts were from, but you desperately wanted to meet them.

Not only did they brighten your day every single time you got a new gift, but they seemed to be presents that were specifically purchased for you.

“Has anybody else been getting gifts?” you inquired.

“Not as far as I know,” Jacob denied, Hyunjae and Sangyeon humming in agreement. “Besides, aren’t the gifts all perfect for you?”

You nodded. “Most of them are things that I vaguely mentioned, or silently pined after. Sometimes they’re just little pick-me-ups like snacks, but they still seem to know my taste perfectly.”

Jacob smiled. “That’s kind of romantic,” he mused, causing Sangyeon to choke on the water he had been sipping. He coughed, leaning forward to place his mug down, and covered his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. You, Hyunjae and Jacob gave him looks of concern, which he immediately waved off.

“I’m good,” Sangyeon assured the three of you. “You-“ he coughed. “You think it’s romantic?”

“Of course!” Jacob said cheerily. “Gifts that fit her taste without ever revealing who sent them… A secret admirer. Super romantic,” he assured his friend, sending him a subtle wink when you weren’t looking.

“I just wish I could repay them somehow,” you sighed. “I feel like they make my days easier and I don’t even have a way to thank them.”

“I’m sure they’ll reveal themselves with time,” Hyunjae told you, probably in an attempt to cheer you up. “Maybe they’re just a little shy.”

“Maybe,” you echoed half-heartedly. The bell rung, indicating that recess was over and class would start again in five minutes.

“Coming?” Sangyeon asked, standing up to walk you to your classroom. Your classrooms were in the same corridor, even though Sangyeon taught fourth grade and you taught second.

You shook your head. “My kids have Gym right now, so I have a free,” you said. “I have some grading to do, so I’m just going to hang out here.”

“Not going to hunt for a better cup of coffee?” Sangyeon teased, copying the horrified face you made when you took a sip of the cold teacher’s lounge coffee.

With a laugh, you merely shook your head. “I’m too lazy to leave campus. Plus, I should probably cut down on my caffeine consumption anyway.”

“Right,” Hyunjae nodded. “I’ll remind you of that in three hours when it’s lunchtime and you’re completely worn-out from your seven-year-old students,” he said, saluting you in lieu of a goodbye. You waved to him, Jacob and Sangyeon as they left the lounge, taking out your bag to get to grading your students’ tests.

Since they were only second graders, the grading wasn’t exactly difficult, just time-consuming. By the time the bell rang to indicate Gym class had ended, you had just finished all of their maths tests. After stretching, you made your way over to your classroom so that you could be there before your students changed after Gym class.

Entering your classroom, you could already feel a bit of fatigue kicking in, and you cursed yourself for not getting a cup of coffee after all. Before you could wallow in your regret any further, you noticed the paper take-away cup on your desk. The bright blue sticky note on the cup instantly brought a smile to your face.

Don’t let the little devils wear you down too much. x

You picked the cup up, delighted that the coffee was still warm to the touch and relishing in the taste as you took a sip. “Secret admirer, you must be from heaven,” you muttered, grateful that your secret admirer had gone out of their way to make sure you were properly caffeinated.

“Teacher Y/n!” someone shouted, barreling into your classroom. Several students trailed behind, giving you similar greetings coupled with large beams.

“How was Gym?” you asked, putting your coffee down and listening to your students’ excited stories about who won the dodgeball game that day. “Well while you guys were having fun, I was working very hard to grade your math tests! Do you want to see how you did?”

Their cheers were enough for you to burst into laughter as you took their papers out of your test. “Teacher Y/n,” one of your students, Minho, raised his hand with big eyes.

The sight was absolutely adorable. “Yes, Minho?” you smiled.

“What did your secret Santa give you today?” he asked.

“Secret Santa is for Christmas time,” you corrected. “The person leaving me presents is just a nice friend,” you explained.

“Okay,” Minho nodded, eagerly absorbing your words. “What did your nice friend give you?”

“Something warm to drink,” you explained, pointing in the direction of your take-away cup before handing the seven-year-old his test back. “The teacher’s lounge has coffee but the coffee from my friend is from my favourite store.”

“Do we know your friend?” Sana, a little girl who always wore pigtails and a huge smile, asked.

“I think so,” you mused. “They work here at school.”

“Who is it?” she wondered. “Is it your boyfriend?”

You laughed. “It’s not my boyfriend,” you assured Sana. “I actually don’t know who it is yet. It’s a mystery.”

“Like Sherlock Holmes,” Minho piped up.

“Yes, like Sherlock Holmes,” you agreed.

“We can try and solve the mystery together, then!” the boy decided. “We just need to look at the clues.”

“Alright,” you allowed, having finished handing out the tests. “We can do that after we go over this test. Does anybody have any questions on the test that they didn’t understand?”

“That’s adorable,” Hyunjae laughed as you told him, Sangyeon, and Jacob about your students’ interest in your secret admirer. The four of you were sat outside at one of the picnic tables to enjoy the last few days of sunshine that autumn had to offer you. “Did they come up with anything?”

“They actually did,” you admitted. Sangyeon’s back straightened abruptly, curious about what your students figured out. “They decided that it’s definitely a teacher.”

“Really?” Sangyeon exclaimed, earning a weird look from Jacob and Hyunjae. “What makes them think that?”

“Well, I always get a little post-it note with all of my gifts,” you explained with a laugh. “And who uses post-it notes?”

“Teachers,” your three colleagues chorused.

“That’s pretty decent detective work,” Jacob complimented.

“My class certainly liked to think so,” you allowed, amused. “Anyway, my theory is that the admirer really is a teacher,” you added. “I doubt anyone other than other teachers have heard me talk about my favourite cafe, or which of my stationary is running low. I only ever talk about those kind of things in the teacher’s lounge or when I’m on lunch duty.”

“Sherlock Holmes indeed,” Hyunjae grinned, eyes crinkling at the outer corners. “Any theories on who it is?”

You sighed, shoulder drooping. “None at all,” you confessed. “Makes me feel kind of pathetic.”

“Hey, you’re not pathetic,” Jacob denied, putting his hand on your shoulder. “A little slow? Maybe. But certainly not pathetic,” you laughed, pleased at Jacob’s attempt to make you feel better.

“Teacher Y/n!” you heard Sana’s familiar voice as she ran up to you from the playground, her best friend Emma trailing after her.

“Hi girls,” you greeted. “Are you enjoying your lunch?” the two girls nodded.

“Emma, it’s your birthday today, isn’t it?” Sangyeon recalled from your rant at recess. The girl’s eyes lit up at his question, prompting her to nod her head excitedly.

“I’m turning eight,” she told him proudly.

Sangyeon beamed at her excitement, a fond look in his eyes. “Well I hope you have a wonderful birthday, Emma. You’ll have to tell me what presents you get when you come to school tomorrow,” he asked, which she immediately agreed to.

“I will, Teacher Sangyeon!” she promised.

Suddenly impatient, Sana crossed her arms. “Teacher Y/n, is Teacher Jacob your nice friend?” she wondered, pointing to where Jacob sat across from you.

“He’s a nice teacher friend, but he’s not the one who’s leaving me gifts,” you explained to the two girls. “Why do you ask?”

“We saw him touch your shoulder,” Sana explained. “We thought that meant he was your nice friend.”

“Sadly, you have the wrong guy,” Jacob said with a shrug. “But I’m going to try to help Teacher Y/n to find out who her nice teacher friend is. You guys already did a great job at helping her,” he added. Sana and Emma looked proud at the thought before they said their goodbyes, rushing off to grab the vacant swings before anybody else did.

“They’re so cute,” Hyunjae almost whined. “Why did I decide to teach sixth grade? Those kids aren’t cute anymore, they’re just savage.”

You grinned at the idea of Hyunjae being lightheartedly bullied by his twelve-year-old students. “You adore those kids, don’t lie to me,” you retorted. “And they’re still plenty cute.”

“They’re not that cute in sixth grade,” he denied, pointing in the direction Emma and Sana went. “And they don’t look at me with big, adorable eyes, or cling on to every word I say.”

“That’s just Y/n,” Sangyeon told them, smiling to himself as he dug into lunch. “My students are just two years older, and they don’t do any of those things to me.”

“You’re being modest,” you argued. “Emma looked at you like you told her she was the most special girl in the world when you remembered her birthday.”

“Maybe because it’s her birthday,” Sangyeon allowed, looking up from his food to smile at you. “But they look at you like that every single day. And it’s not just your students, either.”

His compliment made you blush.

The gifts started coming on a daily basis after the day you got a cup of coffee.

Almost every time you had a free period, a fresh cup of coffee would wait for you when you returned to your classroom, and sometimes baked treats from your favourite bakery would accompany it.

You tried staying in your classroom to see who your gift fairy was, but on days you stayed your admirer never came. It was almost as if they knew every move you were making; like they had heard it before or could somehow read your mind.

“Is one of you giving out my plans?” you questioned your colleagues one day.

Hyunjae simply raised an eyebrow at you. “Explain.”

So you did: “I feel like my secret admirer is always a step ahead of me,” you mumbled. “If I ever wait for them, they don’t show up, and if I send students ahead to wait in the classroom, they still don’t show up. I don’t know how they do it.”

“Maybe it’s one of us,” Jacob said, causing Sangyeon to send a small kick to his ankle as a warning. Hyunjae snorted, covering it up by pretending to cough. “Have you ever considered that?”

“I hadn’t, actually,” you realised absent-mindedly. “But if it was one of you guys then you’d just tell me.”

“Sure,” Hyunjae nodded. “Eventually.”

“Right,” you said, as if this was enough evidence to suggest it couldn’t be Hyunjae, Jacob, or Sangyeon. “So I’m back to square one.”

The bell rang, indicating the end of recess, and you stood up to go back to your classroom. “I love art class,” you sighed as you waved your goodbyes to Hyunjae and Jacob, and made your way to your classroom with Sangyeon. “It’s the only time they get to be rowdy and excited and I don’t have to make them calm down.”

Sangyeon laughed. “Sounds nice,” he agreed.

“What do you have next?” you asked.

“I’m free, actually,” Sangyeon said. “I always have a free after recess.”

“How come you’re always rushing off, then?” you wondered, since he had never sat with you in the teacher’s lounge during recess.

“I use it as my lesson-planning time, which I prefer to do in my classroom because I’m always forgetting little things that I need,” he admitted.

“Well you should hang out with me in the lounge some time,” you offered. “It has terrible coffee but I hear I’m pretty good company,” you joke, stopping at your classroom.

“I might take you up on that,” Sangyeon grinned, winking at you before he made his way to his classroom a few doors down.

You cursed yourself for feeling shy at his wink. Sure, Sangyeon was incredibly handsome. But you had enough to worry about with your secret admirer; you didn’t need a schoolgirl crush on one of your closest colleagues to top it all off.

You sighed. “Control yourself, Y/n,” you muttered to yourself, entering your classroom and starting to hand out the worksheets for the period.

You regretted ever saying that you loved art class.

After a sugar-filled recess, your class was more hyper than you had ever seen them and there was nothing that could be done to stop them. You had attempted multiple times to get them to listen to music or talk quietly, even going as far as to threaten them with staying on after lunch time to make up for the time lost during art class. You were about to lose your patience out of pure irritation and frustration when a knock sounded on the door of your classroom.

Sangyeon’s head popped in, a look of mild concern on his face. “Y/n, is everything okay?” he asked.

“Not really,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair in an attempt to curb your oncoming headache. “They won’t calm down. I’ve tried literally everything I can think of.”

“Mind if I give it a try?” he asked, earning an enthusiastic nod and a grateful smile from you. Sangyeon let himself in and stood at the front of the room. “Hi everyone!” he greeted loudly, causing your students to start to quiet down at the sight of a new face. “Thanks for waiting to start art class until I came,” he smiled, as if he was supposed to be there all along. “I’m Teacher Sangyeon from the fourth grade class down the hall.”

“He teaches big kids,” you heard Emma whisper to her desk mate. Cute.

“Teacher Y/n was just telling me how advanced and mature her second graders are. She even thought that I could come and teach them a little bit of fourth grade art since you’re all so far ahead,” Sangyeon complimented.

Gasps rang around the room, and you couldn’t be more grateful to him in that moment. “But you guys were pretty noisy when I came in. I’m not sure if you guys are really mature enough,” he trailed off, a look of concern on his face.

“We are!” Sana exclaimed, shushing her classmates with a stern expression. “We promise we are!”

“Well...” Sangyeon pretended to think for a moment. “If you guys can promise to be calm and good listeners, maybe I can still teach you like I teach fourth grade art. But only if you’re well behaved.”

In that moment, you were almost as entranced by Sangyeon as your students were.

Sangyeon took their silence as a promise and made his way over to your whiteboard, writing down his name and a few bullet points down. Then, he began to talk about being in the fourth grade and how different things would be from the second grade. He spoke with an air of confidence and kindness that made you realise why he became a teacher, and why all of his students loved him so much.

He was patient and informative without being condescending, and he took any questions and comments happily at any given moment. Sangyeon was definitely in his element, and it made him glow with relaxed joy.

You had always thought Sangyeon was attractive, but this was on a different level. He commanded the attention of all of your students and the way he just swooped in, giving up his entire free period to help you, made your heart swell with something akin to admiration. Sangyeon had your students giggling at his cheesy comments, and you found yourself smiling along with them, just as enchanted by him as your students were.

When he was done teaching, your students looked at him in awe and their eyes were dripping with respect and admiration. He dismissed them to lunch with your approval, and you practically leapt onto him when all your students left.

“Woah, what did I do to deserve that?” he wondered, wrapping his arms around you to return your hug nonetheless.

“Saved my class, and myself from a migraine,” you replied, sighing in relief. “Thank you, Sangyeon. Really. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate this,” you acknowledged, squeezing your eyes shut to relish in the hug. Sangyeon tightened his grip on you and sighed back, butterflies fluttering around his stomach.

Maybe he should just tell you that he’s your secret admirer, he considered.

“Of course, Y/n. You know that I’m always here if you need anything,” he said instead, pulling away from your hug to offer you a genuine smile. He wasn’t ready yet.

“I do,” you agreed with a nod. “And I can help you out anytime as well. Thank you. Let me buy you coffee or something as a proper thank you,” you offered, grabbing your bag without letting him reply.

“Not everyone is as obsessed with caffeine as you are,” Sangyeon retorted, gently nudging you with his hip to tease you.

“Hey, until they start selling it in an IV bag, I’m going to have to get my caffeine the old fashion way. C’mon, coffee shop three blocks away. My treat,” you smiled hopefully, holding up your wallet to jokingly entice him.

Sangyeon broke out into a large smile, eyes shaped like crescent moons. “I would love that,” he agreed, starting to erase his notes on the whiteboard as you clapped.

You watched him. “Your handwriting is beautiful,” you complimented, seeing the letters disappear. “I feel like I’ve seen it before,” you thought aloud, wondering why it looked so familiar.

“Really?” Sangyeon said, eyes wide as he sped up his process of erasing his lettering. “Probably in the yearbook or something.”

“Probably,” you dismissed the thought with a smile. “Now let’s go get our coffee on.”

After Sangyeon saved your art class, and your head from a brutal migraine, he started spending more time with you during your mutual free periods. Usually, you sat in silence in the teacher’s lounge as you did any grading or class prep that needed to be done, but with Sangyeon’s presence, your free periods were much more colourful and laidback.

Sangyeon had a lighthearted way about him; everything he said was assuring kind, and didn’t fail to make your heart flutter. Usually, you only ever spent time with Sangyeon when Jacob and Hyunjae were around, but being alone with Sangyeon was a different situation entirely. You had always known he was handsome and considerate, but he exuded a different kind of energy when he wasn’t surrounded by your friends.

As he sat next to you at one of the tables in the teacher’s lounge before the school day started, you couldn’t help but admire his profile; he was practically flawless. He had a long, slender nose and high cheekbones that made Sangyeon look more angular than soft. His deep brown eyes and pillow-soft lips-

“Y/n?” you snapped out of your trail of thoughts, realising that you had been blatantly staring at your coworker. Sangyeon gave you a concerned look. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine!” you promised, clearing your throat and adjusting your shirt to give your hands something to do. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

The bell chimed, indicating that the school day would begin soon. You and Sangyeon stood up from your chairs and started collecting your papers. “I was just saying that I can’t stay with you during my free, I have some errands to run,” he explained, giving you a wave before he ran off to grab something from his car before class started.

You rose an eyebrow. “I don’t have a free today,” you mumbled to yourself, making your way to your classroom to start your first period class.

Sangyeon grinned, lifting the flower bouquet in his hand to smell the fragrant flowers once more, relishing in their sweet scent. You had told him about a little flower shop nearby that you noticed the other day, but you couldn’t bring yourself to buy yourself flowers because it felt a little embarrassing. Since you had a free today, Sangyeon figured it would be the perfect time to buy you some flowers and give them to you.

Anonymously, of course.

As Sangyeon snuck past the teacher’s lounge, he saw your bag on one of the chairs and quickened his steps so that you wouldn’t spot him as he made his way to your classroom. Checking the hallway, Sangyeon entered your classroom as quietly as he could as to not alert any other classes of his presence.

As carefully as he could, Sangyeon closed the door behind him and let out a relieved sigh when it silently shut. Smiling, he turned around to put the flowers on your desk.

Only to be met with the little faces of your entire class.

Sangyeon’s mouth fell open in shock, his eyes widening simultaneously as he realised the situation.

“Teacher Sangyeon,” Emma exclaimed, waving excitedly at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, hi class,” Sangyeon greeted awkwardly, making his way towards your desk. “I’m just leaving Teacher Y/n a little surprise, that’s all.”

Minho gasped. “You’re her nice friend that’s leaving her presents!” he realised, pointing his little finger at Sangyeon.

Knowing he was caught, Sangyeon nodded, hurriedly pulling a blue post-it note from his shirt pocket and writing you a little message to go with your flowers. “Yes, I am. But I would really like it if you guys could keep it a secret between us?” he pleaded. “Since I know you guys are so mature and clever.”

He knew that appealing to seven-year-olds’ will to be grown up was a low blow, but he didn’t have much time before you would return to your class.

“Of course,” Sana nodded her head. “We’ll keep your secret. Teacher Y/n is looking for her bag, she’ll be back any minute now!”

Sangyeon thanked her for her warning, giving your students a little wave before he darted out of the classroom and rushed to his own.

That was close. And he was probably screwed.

“Okay class, thank you so much for being patient,” you exclaimed, entering your classroom with your bag. “I’m sorry I left you guys to grab my bag but I’m so proud of you all being so mature and understanding,” you buttered up your students, feeling guilty for running around school like a mad person trying to find your bag.

“Teacher Y/n!” Minho raised his hand as far in the air as he could. “We know who your nice friend is!”

You froze in place from where you were writing on the whiteboard, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “You do?” you echoed.

“Hey,” Sana cried out. “We’re not supposed to tell!”

That’s interesting. You knew that if whoever your secret admirer was had convinced your class to keep their identity a secret, it meant that your class trusted and respected them.

“I don’t care,” Minho retorted, crossing his arms. “We’re supposed to be Sherlock Holmes and help Teacher Y/n, remember?”

You smiled; those kids were truly too cute.

“Oh,” Sana seemed to be struggling with making up her mind. “Well, I suppose you’re right. We did promise Teacher Y/n first.”

“Was my nice friend here?” you asked, spotting the bouquet of flowers on your desk, accompanied by the usual blue post-it note you received with all your gifts.

“He was,” Minho nodded. “Teacher Sangyeon came while we were waiting for you and he brought your flowers.”

Something fluttered in your stomach, excitement at the revelation of your secret admirer making your heart pound just slightly faster. “He did?” you said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“And he wrote you a note with a blue post-it!” Emma added. “We were right! Your nice friend is a teacher.”

You smiled, picturing Sangyeon trying to convince your students to keep his secret. He must have snuck in because he thought I had a free period, you realised. “Well, you guys are very good detectives,” you complimented. “Just like Sherlock Holmes.”

When you dismissed your students for lunch, you couldn’t help but sit at your desk as they all filed out to admire the flowers. It was a beautiful mixture of white roses, pink peonies, and beautiful green and purple wildflowers. The post-it note must have been more rushed than usual, because it had a simple message that said he hoped you liked the flowers instead of their usual buttery, warm message of encouragement.

No wonder Sangyeon’s handwriting looked so familiar, you thought as you traced the letters on the post-it note with your pointer finger. The loops of his lettering perfectly replicated those that were written on the whiteboard when he helped you with your art class a few weeks ago.

After assigning your students their work for the last class, you couldn’t help your mind from wandering to Sangyeon, and how you should confront him about being your secret admirer. Making up your mind, you got up from your chair and plucked the flowers and post-it note from your desk before exiting your classroom and walking down the hall.

Knocking on the door of Sangyeon’s classroom, you waited patiently for him to greet you at the door. “Y/n,” his eyes lit up when he recognised that it was you. “Come in, you don’t need to knock,” Sangyeon ushered you in, opening to door for you.

“Thanks,” you smiled, stepping inside. “So, I got another gift from my admirer,” you told him, holding up the flowers. “If I can even call them an admirer.”

“Why shouldn’t they admire you,” Sangyeon said with a small shrug, moving to wipe his whiteboard.

“Say,” you began, holding up the post-it note. “This looks a lot like your handwriting.”

Sangyeon dropped the whiteboard eraser with a loud clatter, cursing quietly before apologising for the noise and going to pick it up. “Oh, um, really?” he wondered, panic rising in his chest.

“Really,” you confirmed, making your way next to him and holding up the post-it for you both to compare to the white board. “See? Your lettering is super similar,” you said, as if you didn’t already know that Sangyeon was your secret admirer.

“Huh,” Sangyeon hummed. “Weird.”

“Isn’t it?” you agreed, smiling. “These flowers are beautiful though, aren’t they?”

Feeling nervous, Sangyeon only gave you a weak smile. “As long as you think so…”

“They’re from that little flower shop I was telling you about the other day,” you told him, recognising the name of the shop on the ribbon that held the bouquet together. “Isn’t that ironic? That they got the flowers from there.”

“Well it’s only a few blocks away so I’m sure other people know about it,” Sangyeon retorted, pretending to go through the papers on his desk to act as if his heart wasn’t beating at the sound of a tuba.

“I also got coffee from my favourite cafe, pastries from my favourite bakery, and any piece of stationary that I complained to you about being low on,” you listed off the different gifts you had received.

Sangyeon opened his mouth to retort, but when he lifted his head to meet your eyes, he knew immediately that he had been caught. “You know, don’t you?” Sangyeon mumbled, red flushing the tips of his cheeks and ears.

“Minho ratted you out,” you confessed, not wanting to take credit for figuring it out.

Sangyeon laughed. “Tattle-tale,” he muttered, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you were just having fun, teasing me as if you were figuring it all out right in front of me?”

“Hey,” you exclaimed. “I figured the handwriting thing out on my own.”

“Really?”

“No. I just connected the dots after Minho told on you,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. Sangyeon chuckled, picturing your class telling on him as you lean back against his desk. “I’m glad it’s you,” you revealed, making Sangyeon smile shyly at you.

“How come?” he wondered.

“Well, you’re pretty cute,” you teased, earning an eye-roll from Sangyeon. “And you’re just… I don’t know. You’re really special. The way you interact with your students and how you never fail to give up your free time to help me, or keep me company…” you trailed off, noticing how a more serious expression fell across Sangyeon’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me that it’s you?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted it to be me,” Sangyeon said, tucking his hands into his pant pockets. “You’re one of the most loved teachers at this school, by the students and the faculty. You’re funny, and kind, and beautiful, and I thought you were out of reach.”

“I’m not out of reach,” you shook your head, moving closer to the brunet man. “Not at all.”

“And you’re really happy that it’s me?” he wondered.

“Hm,” you pretended to think. “Let me get back to you on that one,” you teased. “Yes Sangyeon, I’m really happy that it’s you.” Sangyeon beamed, pleased with your response. “That’s your cue.”

“My cue?” he asked.

“Yes, your cue,” you emphasised, trailing your hands up his chest to play with his tie. An understanding look filled his eyes and Sangyeon leant down to kiss you, closing his eyes as you felt each other’s breath against your faces.

The door to Sangyeon’s classroom opened noisily.

“Yo, we were just-“ Hyunjae’s shriek cut off Jacob’s words as the pair realised the position that you and Sangyeon were in.

“Guys, you can’t do that during school hours!” Hyunjae exclaimed, looking scandalised. “Jacob, I’ll cover your eyes and you cover mine,” he said dramatically, causing the two of them to flail about in an attempt to cover each other’s eyes with their hands.

You rolled your eyes, releasing Sangyeon’s tie and leaning back with a sigh. Sangyeon gave you a sheepish smile but cast your friends an exasperated look. “You guys are lame,” you accused.

Jacob laughed, releasing Hyunjae. “So you finally figured it out?”

“I wish. Some little tattle-tales told me all about it after catching him,” you motion to Sangyeon.

Hyunjae cackled. “Genius. C’mon, let’s get lunch. I’m starving,” he moved on quickly, uninterested in your new relationship with Sangyeon. “No kissing on school grounds, either. Let’s go,” he cheered, marching out with Jacob in tow.

You laughed, always amused by your coworkers and friends. “Let’s get lunch,” you agreed with Hyunjae, sending Sangyeon a smile.

As you moved away, Sangyeon caught your arm and gently pulled you back. “School hours are over in two periods,” he reminded you with a cheeky smile.

“Dinner?” you offered, earning a nod.

“I’d be crazy not to go,” Sangyeon exaggerated. “You’re paying, though. I’ve bought you enough food and drinks to last at least a few dinner dates,” he winked.

Laughing, you nodded, pulling him out of his classroom by his hand. “It’s a deal.”

note: the first fic in my 2k followers celebration event is up!! i’m so excited to see what you guys think about it, please let me know and thank you again for 2,000 followers 💛🌻

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #sangyeon #sangyeon imagines #sangyeon x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #lee sangyeon #the boyz fic #the boyz fluff #the boyz au #the boyz drabbles #fic: tattle-tale #2k celebration

[wine4thewin]

I started binging this series and now, for the life of me, do not understand how this never popped up on my radar before. I was never crazy about Black Swan or any of its imitators, but this show is a different animal from another realm of disturbing. I kinda dig that.

This isn't a tv series that is trying to make you happy or feel good about yourself. It's none of that. It's brutal. It's harsh. Gritty and uncomfortable. It holds your hand and drags you through this angsty tale of regaining lost agency, and it doesn't care if you want to look away, it forces you to observe.

Flesh and Bone is:

*Ballerina drama 🎭 and the dancing is legit, astounding and beautiful in contrast to all its flawed, imperfect characters

*Full of self-harm and psychological trauma

*An Unhealthy, effed-up game of thrones style Brother-Sister relationship in the undertone. Just when you think one of them is at fault, their twisted codependency whips it all around again, leaving you wondering what the real story is...

*Terrible life choices everywhere, by everyone

*Scenes of stripping to regain control of ones own body

*Also, a feisty angry gay king ballet director, with a tongue like a lash and more sass than you can handle

*Unhealthy obsessions, drugs, and messed up situations

Is this series a masterpiece? Naw. But rarely do I see a decent tv series that is unapologetically dark. This show wallows in it.

Spoilers in the Claire + Bryan analysis below the 'keep reading' line, because I need to blurt out all the creeped-out thoughts this series gave me in regards to those two and there are TRIGGERING things, but I need to rant somewhere...

The brutal cycle of codependency between Claire and Bryan isn’t exactly clear at first. Instead, the first episode opens up with Claire yeeting a suitcase out her bedroom window while someone is rattling her padlocked bedroom door, begging her to let them in. This fills the audience with a sickening feeling, because obviously people don't padlock their own bedroom door for no reason. She flees to New York to start a new life, join a dance company, and become someone new.

The brutal cycle of codependency between Claire and Bryan isn’t exactly clear at first. Instead, the first episode opens up with Claire yeeting a suitcase out her bedroom window while someone is rattling her padlocked bedroom door, begging her to let them in. This fills the audience with a sickening feeling, because obviously people don't padlock their own bedroom door for no reason. She flees to New York to start a new life, join a dance company, and become someone new.

The problem is, the person she's running from is still unable to let her go. We see her get repeated calls on her phone from Bryan, until in a moment of weakness, she picks it up and talks to him, sobbing. She listens to him beg her to tell him where she went, that he misses her, is she okay, etc-

the phone call ends on a very disturbing note, showing us exactly the nature of their relationship...and they are siblings, so, bad news...

The next morning, Claire yeets her phone and gets a new one. She wants to kill her past. It's easy to see that he's what she's running from, what she's trying to start new from. She’s this fragile, broken thing and carries sorrow and skittish-ness around like it’s her job- and unfortunately, the dance team notices her 'frigid' attitude to being touched. They all mockingly call her a virgin, when it is likely farther from the truth. Her twitchiness is likely from years of abuse.

We see things go her way for a while. She's making a place for herself in the company, despite petty attitudes that are rampant in the dancers. It all goes fine until Bryan tracks her down (stalks the shit out of her) and shows up in her apartment in New York.

It's a study in just...awkwardness. Claire comes home late and sees her brother's stuff on her bed, but she doesn't see him or her promiscuous roommate...so she looks in her roommates room and catches Mia blowing Bryan, and Claire seems more than vaguely horrified, but the question is why? Because he's there or because he's with someone else? Claire flees the apartment and Bryan chases after her, catching her outside easily enough. They struggle in the rain until she gives up; she’s too small to compete. He brings her back upstairs and in a very strange, creepily domestic turn in events, she takes care of him, giving him food, making sure he has a spot on the couch to sleep- it almost seems like a normal brother-sister relationship. ALMOST. it reeks of a mouse trying to appease a cat.

Bryan doesn’t stay on the couch. He moves himself to the ground beside Claire’s mattress. He sleeps and she digs her fingernails in her palms until she bleeds. At dawn, when they both wake up, she coldly tells him that he can’t stay with her, he must go, that he better not be in the apartment when she returns from work.

He's obviously not happy about being yeeted out of her life, because according to him, he has nothing else in his life but her.

After a lot of bullshit and drama, Claire successfully convinces him he's not welcome in her new life. However, before he leaves for home, he displays some disturbing sexual dominance over her roommate, who was trying to get with him again by asking about Bryan's time in the marines. It took a worse turn when he confided that he enjoyed war and all the awful in it, and instead of having a normal sexual encounter, he hog ties her and jacks off over her body in a display of sexual violence. In all this time, we've never seen him get sexually violent with Claire, but this encounter leaves the audience wondering what he's done to her in the past...

Claire and Bryan separate on shit terms. He leaves New York, leaves her life, and she should be glad, but she’s not.

In a surprising show of codependency, she calls him after time passes. He ignores her. Until eventually he doesn’t. He’s ticked at her, emotionally withdrawn. She asks if he would mind if she came back home for a break. Bryan coldly tells her doesn’t care if she comes back for thanksgiving or not.

One would think that Claire would stay away. She doesn’t. She crawls back to him, in some strange expression of Stockholm Syndrome, and they play a convincing brother and sister around their abusive, drunken, crippled father who is a tyrant upon the household. A tyrant who shows barely any kindness to Claire and has literally no kindness for Bryan.

Their household is a horror show of misery and abuse. Neither sibling knows the love of their father and as we see in family videos, it's always been that way.

Claire sleeps in her padlocked bedroom and all seems normal. Nothing happens. Until the next day, when their dad is snoozing in the living room chair and Claire and Bryan are sitting on opposite sides of the couch in silence, Bryan quietly brings up how he worried for her when he was deployed in Afghanistan, and about the baby-

here's me, sitting there thinking, I knew it! I knew some awful shit like that happened!

Their dad wakes up at this and shuts that conversation down immediately. It turns out, he knew all along about the type of relationship his children had/have. The way he berates Bryan over it leaves me wondering if he blames Bryan for it, or if it's just his usual, poisonous hatred for his son.

This mentioned can of worms seems to break something in both siblings because things degrade from there while in this depressing environment.

In a strange turn in events late that night, Claire leaves her bedroom and goes into Bryan's, shutting the door behind her. GURL WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT IS HAPPENING? Does homeboy need a padlock on his bedroom too? Holy eff.

What happens appears consensual(?), no matter how twisted it is. When it’s over, Claire tells him they had a daughter, to answer his question from earlier in the day that their father didn't allow her to answer. so, is this the first time Claire has done this? Is this her way of taking control? By initiating sexual contact with her abuser?

She leaves shortly after, but before she does, she goes up to her sleeping father, who has his mouth open, and stuffs what appears to be a baby hospital bracelet into his mouth in a fit of anger. It's as if it's her passive-aggressive way of saying 'I blame you for this, now choke on the truth'.

When Claire's back in New York, getting the starring role, getting everything she ever wanted, she breaks down, overwhelmed, crying, calling Bryan on the phone repeatedly. He doesn’t answer her, until he does…and she tells him that she needs him to come to New York.

This is where I’m utterly fascinated by the disturbing circle of dependency these two are caught in. The story starts with Claire fleeing him, doing all she can to knife him out of her life…and now we have her begging for him to crawl back to her, especially after they re-consummated their utterly ill-advised, taboo relationship in a momentary mistake, that Claire also instigated.

What is happening here? Is she regressing? Or is it just that he's always been THE MOST important person in her life and she doesn't know how to be without him? Is he the only thing she understands?

She hates herself, she hates him, and she hates them. It's awful to see her be unable to escape this circle of unhealthy.

Against his own judgement, Bryan goes to her one last time, and Claire greets him with a smile, brings him into her apartment, which is now vacant of Mia. She chatters pleasantly about getting him settled, about the tickets she got him for him to watch her at the opening night of the ballet, because she needs him to see her-

Something in Bryan breaks and he looks ill.

“I can’t stay” he tells her and her entire demeanor shifts. He tells her that he’s done with all of it and she needs to be too. The horror and heartbreak on her face is obvious; this is not what she wanted even if it’s what she’s been grasping at all along. She's always wanted freedom from Bryan, yet now that it's here, she can't cope with it.

But why? And was her original pleasant attitude a coping method? To appease her abuser, to garner a favorable response from him in order for her to feel 'loved'? So many questions, these two are so pathetically love -starved that it's vile in every way possible.

When he leaves, he tells her that he hopes their daughter was adopted by a good family, that she’ll have a better life than they did. Claire uses this moment to let out all her rage and pain, instead telling him in a vicious monologue she had wanted to end her pregnancy, that he was a monster and the baby must have been too.

He's horrified, she's outraged- and he leaves. She falls apart, and yet the show must go on. And it does. And she does. And she gets nearly everything she ever wanted; the love of the crowd for a Prima Ballerina. The only person absent is the person she most wanted to witness her taking herself back...

There is also the matter of her finding glass in her shoes when she gets on stage...it looks like she eats the fucking glass, because blood trickles from her mouth. Gosh, what a masochistic Claire Robbins thing to do, continually punishing herself and using pain for success.

It's this end that leaves so many questions. Was everything Bryan's fault? We are led to believe it is, but there are also hints of Claire having her own part to play in their horrid relationship. And, does she truly reach empowerment if she is the one who wanted Bryan to see her perform? She told him she needed him to see her perform in order for her to feel real. She cuts her hair to show her independence of him, and yet somehow, it doesn't seem to be enough, even for her. and ew he snags her cut off pony tail and steals it, come on, man.

The final, dark lines in the show are telling, at least to me. Paul Grayson (the mercurial, controlling ballet director) asks his new starlet 'Tell me everything you are feeling, Tell me.'

A request to which a dark, cold-eyed Claire simply says, "No."

Perhaps this rejection is a symptom of her newfound empowerment in herself. She will not tell simply because he asks. Or, perhaps it's more sinister. Perhaps it's because she's feeling nothing at all, because her brother denied her small request of seeing her triumph, which she needed in order to feel real. Maybe it is a mix of both. She is empowered, has found her strength & independence, but a part of her is still missing, and under all her triumph, there is still shame and self-loathing, buried deep.

No happy ending here in my opinion, but it's open-ended and darkly tragic, and it's probably like that on purpose. Claire gets everything she ever wanted, and pain was the fuel she used to do it. I can't help but wonder if she traded one controlling abuser for another- Paul Grayson essentially knows her secret, and now he's made her a star. The end scene just gives so many thoughts and none of them are good...

"I hope that can happen for me, that's what I want. To be loved enough to become real." - Claire Robbins, Flesh and Bone.

#ballerina #flesh and bone 2015 #very dark rants beware #dark tv drama #starz flesh and bone #flesh and bone #tv show #tv series #ballerina drama #thoughts #tv show thoughts #tv show: flesh and bone #tv drama #josh helman #Sarah hay

[kyeungsoo]

i want you (to stay with me).

× pairings — park chanyeol + reader

× genres/warnings — it’s all fluff but i think you should expect that by now, chanyeol’s very intricate inner thoughts, um language?

× notes — yes, this is inspired by a tiktok, no i do not have any regrets because chanyeol would be a 10/10 gamer boyfriend </2

Chanyeol has to admit that telling you he’s leaving to go hang out with his friends is simultaneously his most and least favorite part of any day.

Least because he doesn’t particularly like leaving you in any capacity, and he feels really bad when you stay home while he goes out; but he knows that more often than not you’d rather just catch up on sleep than be social.

And favorite for two reasons. The first is because he gets to hang out with his friends, even if he does end up paying for their food—despite whatever claims are made against him by one Kim Junmyeon. He loves his friends, and always has a good time when he’s with them, even if all the do is get together, drink beer, and play games at Sehun’s place.

(Which is, somehow, the most spacious and well decorated of all their apartments despite the fact that Sehun isn’t exactly making six figures a year. It’s more than a bit suspicious, but Chanyeol suspects it has something to do with the fact that Minseok and Junmyeon have never said no to him a day in their lives, even if that meant paying for an undeserved apartment, but Chanyeol swears he’s not bitter in the slightest).

The second reason is because you usually put up a fight about him leaving. That’s not to say that Chanyeol likes fighting with you, but he likes that you don’t want him to leave. You’re not one for public displays of affection, and you’re never clingy with him, so he does like to indulge a bit when you fuss about him going.

Is that a little petty and mischievous? A little, but that never hurt anybody.

Besides, what really takes the cake is all the kisses he gets from you before he goes—which is completely pure-minded and wholesome and he enjoys them very much.

(And yes, he is aware that if he wanted little kisses peppered all over his face that he could just ask, but it’s so much more fun this way).

Today, Junmyeon has texted all of them about getting dinner and watching a movie back at his place. And while Chanyeol isn’t exactly enthused about his choice in movies—some dramatic war inspired movie-musical type thing that he’s sure Kyungsoo will love, but he will fall asleep half way through—he’s always happy for an opportunity to see his friends.

And to see you all over him. Even for just a little bit. He smiles, getting up from the couch to walk to your bedroom to tell you the news and relish in your reaction.

“Babe,” he calls, socks dragging against the carpet of your bedroom, “I think I’m gonna go hang out with the boys in a bit.”

You’re not laying down, but you’re still preoccupied, legs hanging off the edge of the bed with your computer in your lap.

Chanyeol smiles to himself as he heads towards your closet to steal (see: rightfully claim) one of his own jackets, his back turned to you as he waits for your reply.

“Okay, baby. Have fun!”

Chanyeol freezes, and turns on his feels, facing the bed where you’re sitting. Wait what.

“Wait, what?”

Chanyeol’s eyebrows crease together. That’s not supposed to happen! You’re supposed to be opposed to it. You’re supposed to be a little bit bitter that he’s going to down beers with Minseok instead of cuddling you.

“What do you mean what?” you question back, a light chuckle in your voice.

“Did—did you hear what I said?” Chanyeol asks, slowly taking a step forward, like he’s observing some kind of unknown specimen, “I said I’m gonna hang out with the boys in a bit.”

You tear your eyes away from your computer screen, offering Chanyeol a disturbingly unbothered response: “Yeah, I heard you, Yeollie. Have fun—oh, and tell Baek he still owes me forty bucks.”

Chanyeol blinks. “I—you don’t mind?”

“No, babe, it’s fine. Seriously,” you don’t even spare him a glance this time, clicking away at your keyboard.

Chanyeol frowns, slowly and dramatically turning back to the closet to hang up his jacket again.

“And you’re okay with me going to hang out with the boys?” he questions, pretending to rake through your closet for something else, “And you don’t mind?”

“No, Chan, I don’t mind,” he looks over his shoulder skeptically as you reply with a laugh, “Why? Do you, like, need something from me?”

Chanyeol shakes his head, turning away from the closet and stepping towards you. “No, but usually you, like—you,” Chanyeol cuts himself off with a huff and a whine, “Why do you want me to go all of a sudden!”

Chanyeol continues to frown as you giggle, taking more steps forward. “Usually you’re like, ‘Oh, the boys again—Yeollie you always hang out with the boys,’” he mimics you with exaggerated hand movements and an overly high-pitched voice.

It earns more laughter from you, and you actually close your laptop, devoting your full attention to his awfully over-played imitation of yourself. Chanyeol comes closer, wiggling his fingers in your face to elicit more laughter.

“Chanyeol, seriously!” you cry, attempting to knock his hands away from your face through your laughter, “Seriously, it’s fine. You can hang out with them, I’m not your keeper.”

Chanyeol’s very confused now as he pulls his hands back and stares at you. Sure, you’re not his keeper—and you’ve never actively tried to stop him from hanging out with his friends in a controlling manner; but this still isn’t adding up. Why are you just letting him go without a fight! And where are his kisses to coerce him into staying and watching Disney+ with you!

Something’s not right here, he can feel it. But he’s not sure what unless—

“Are you mad at me?”

You laugh at the question. Okay, so evidently not. You’re not mad, and you’re not giving him any signs of being disingenuous or passive-aggressive, either. You seem to really be okay with this. Which is, ironically, not okay with him.

“You know it’s Friday right,” he tries, emphasizing the day of week. You usually care a little bit more when it’s a Friday evening.

“Yes, I know it’s—”

Chanyeol pulls back, completely awestruck now. “Why do not care all of a sudden?” He whines, stomping his feet. Sure, it’s a little childish, but who cares at this point. “I want you to care!”

Watching you giggle at his antics only makes Chanyeol more confused. This is not what he wanted, this is not what he planned, and he can definitely say that he does not understand.

“Okay, I’m gonna try again because you’re acting suspicious.”

“I’m not acting—”

But your words are cut off as he wedges himself between your legs, and holds your cheeks between both his palms. “I’m going out with the boys.”

Chanyeol scans your face with wide eyes and crinkled eyebrows, expecting to find even an ounce of objection. To his surprise, he’s met only with more giggles and smiles.

“Okay, baby.”

Chanyeol groans, letting go of your face to flail his arms around dramatically. He huffs, ignoring the sound of your laughter as he storms into the living room to fetch his phone to text Junmyeon.

On his way, grumbles underneath his breath, before loudly calling out to you. “Well I don’t feel like going anymore, so you’re stuck with me, and now we have to watch Aladdin together, so I hope you’re happy!”

#exo smut #exo fluff #exo scenarios #exo reactions #exo fanfic #exo imagines #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol smut #chanyeol x reader #exo x reader #chanbaek #chanbaek smut #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #sehun smut #sehun fluff #exo soft icons #chanyeol soft icons #exo college au #exo fake texts #exo fake snaps #exo fake quotes

[artemisegeria]

First Lines Ask Game

Copy the first few lines of your last ten fics, note any fun observations, then tag a few more friends.

Thanks for the tag @anonthenullifier ! This was fun.

----

Some of these are multi-chapter fics, so I went with the first few lines of the last chapter I posted. 

1. Where the Passion Fruit Grows Sweet - Lemonovember 2021 (Chapter 20)

It actually ended up being a week later when Vision felt comfortable enough to admit that he truly did want to attempt a teacher student roleplay. Roleplays of all kinds were some of their favorite enhancements to a night of lovemaking.

But they had never employed this particular fantasy. Vision was not even certain where he first considered the idea. However, since she had asked the question, the prospect grew more appealing.

2. Living

A knock sounded at the door. Wanda groggily shifted and tried to establish where she was and who was looking for her.

“Hey, Vision! Can we come in?” She startled upright. Why were the boys looking for Vision in her room? Oh… Vision and Vizh also sat up. They were all in Vision’s room. They had been falling asleep together before returning to their own rooms more and more lately. Shit!

Thankfully, Vision was able to answer them smoothly. “Just a moment, boys.” Both Visions quickly phased into their clothes while Wanda levitated hers into her arms. They cringed at each other briefly before Vizh picked her up and floated them through the wall.

3. Play It Again

Dave first saw Wanda across a crowded room. It was a terrible cliché, but life imitated art sometimes. He approached her and laid down a line on her. She rolled her eyes, but it was an icebreaker. They spent the rest of the night talking.

But somehow their relationship fizzled after only a few dates.

He saw her a few weeks after she had ended things with him. She was sitting at a café laughing with a tall blond-haired blue-eyed stranger. He saw red immediately. Both figuratively and literally. Their palms were both a bright crimson color. A sign of a soulmate that had been denied to him.

Something about him looked familiar, but he couldn’t place him around his simmering rage.

That night he decided to use his birthright for the first time ever. He focused on the night he and Wanda had met.

4. Four Single Men in Possession of Good Fortunes (Chapter 3)

The Diary of Lady Whistledown – Entry 1

The season has just begun. Two events have passed, and it is much like any other season. Sometimes I find the whole pageant dreadfully boring, but it can be fascinating to see the matches play out.

It is too early to determine the brightest star of the year. Lady Romanov is certainly a perennial favorite. The mystery and intrigue draw in suitors, despite her unconventional nature. The Carter ladies are also beloved by many. They ornament every ballroom. They are the only ones worthy of note so far, but time will tell.

As for the men, no one can approach the Marvelles. All four are handsome, intelligent, and possessed of significant fortunes. The one doubtful prospect is Lord Anthony. He is an inveterate bachelor, well known for bedding any woman who will have him. Somehow that does not make him an ineligible match. But any wife of his would struggle to keep him in line or have to face his numerous wanderings.

5. What Could Not Be

It started with tiredness.

At first, Wanda wrote it off. She only slept soundly when Vision was around. The life of a fugitive did not make for a comfortable environment. But Steve and Natasha did not let up on their training regimen. So, of course, she was run down.

Then, every part of her body started to swell. She could barely slip her shoes on. This was another easy thing to take in stride. Their life came with a lot of packaged, cheap food. A little more salt than usual could surely cause that.

6. The Stars Burned Out

Vision wished that he could tell Wanda that he had been wrong.

He had told her throughout their marriage that he would love her until the stars burned out. But here at the end of the universe, after all the stars had died, he loved her still. He loved her, and he loved their children.

He had met millions of beings, taken other lovers, lived to the fullest extent he could. But he had never forgotten his wife and children. Humanity was long dissipated into the cosmic dust that all life fell into, but his feelings were not. His love was now the brightest light remaining in the universe.

7. The Picture of the Mind Revives Again (Chapter 7)

Vision and Wanda set themselves up in an empty side laboratory. After the previous night, Vision was feeling optimistic about the state of their relationship. They still had much to work through, but they had a better foundation of honesty and trust on which to build something new.

They decided to start with a simple experiment. They separated to opposite sides of the room. Vision held up two fingers behind his back. Wanda squared her stance and he admired her strength as always.

She closed her eyes. Vision tried to empty his mind and leave it as open as possible to the touch of her powers. Wanda was clearly concentrating. Red wisps were emerging all around her. But he felt nothing.

After almost ten minutes, Wanda moved a bit closer. “Maybe the number thing is too unemotional. Maybe you should think of something more personal.”

Vision nodded in thought. Her powers were connected to emotions. It made sense that she needed an emotion to hold onto. However, he struggled to think of a memory that was suitably emotional, without being too tinged with melancholy or the love that they had not yet discussed.

8. Reflection

Vision looked forward to Rosh Hashanah every year. He enjoyed introspection and felt it was valuable to reflect on the past year. Wanda felt the same, desiring to do better every year. They had not yet been able to prove the value to the boys.

When they had been small, the boys squirmed in their synagogue throughout the service, but they had clapped their hands at the blowing of the shofar. But now they were at the age where no part of the holiday appealed. They resented having to miss school for the day but still being made to attend synagogue. They did not want to dress up or eat the traditional holiday foods.

Vision hoped they would gain appreciation for the day when they matured a bit more. Until then, he and Wanda dragged them through it. She had no other family to celebrate with, so she wanted to instill the traditions in her sons.

9. Hold Me in Your Arms

Vision was sitting on the shuttle waiting to return from the lunar colony. The seconds ticked by in a most agonizing fashion. He would contemplate later how time took on such a subjective quality.

It was not difficult to determine the source. It was one Wanda Maximoff, to whom he was returning after a year-long absence. He was born of an android and something else. No one could quite quantify what he was. As such, he had never expected to find love, but he had with her. Their relationship had changed his perspective on much of the world.

He would never want to go back to the way things had been, except perhaps at this moment. He wished his perception of time might return to that of his past self, at least until he could be with Wanda again.

10. I Choose You

Wanda had never regretted becoming the Bachelorette more.

She was down to the final five contestants. She had given each of them a rose reluctantly. In truth she was done with the whole thing. She let the producers whisper in her ear to choose for maximum drama.

She wanted to ignore them as well, but she would fulfill her contract, pretend to date the “winner” for a few months and wash her hands of all of it.

Vision was the only worthwhile part of the whole experience. He was the only producer she trusted not to look at her like a piece of meat or source of income. He encouraged her to choose whomever she got along with most, to make the post-show press tour easier. But she couldn’t choose the one she really wanted, so she settled for ratings.

----

As for observations, I guess I tend to like to start with one pithy opening before elaborating in the next paragraph. And, this is not really about the opening lines, but I am happy with the variety of fics I’ve been posting (AUs, canon-based, canon divergence, no powers).

I tag @justanothermarvelgirl if you’re interested, and anyone else who may want to participate.

#ask games #answered

[themilky-way]

toil and trouble

gif credit: toyboxboy

pairing: spencer reid x gn! reader

summary: soulmate au!: halloween only comes once a year, and what it brings around tonight is a little more than just scary movies and ghost stories. based on this ask. 

warnings: none i think. pretty sure this is gender neutral reader so i labeled it as such :)

author’s note: THIS IS SO BAD AND SHORT IM SORRY BYE

----------

none of it had been planned. as much as the team persisted that it’d been garcia’s idea, it wasn’t truly anybody’s. to have a simple gathering amongst coworkers to celebrate halloween had been a unanimous decision, one that required the toughest of the toughest to fit themselves into a costume. rossi had proposed his apartment as the location seeing as most of his team’s reunions predominantly occurred there. penelope being her usual preppy self volunteered to decorate, and so she set off to hang orange fairy lights, spooky props with boisterous sound effects, and to throw in a touch of her own glam, a couple of glittery jack-o-lanterns. 

the rest of the unit debated between their most normal choices, and for a while they were puzzled as to what might be the right pick, but the date came too quickly. on halloween night, hotch appeared at the doorway dressed in his traditional suit and tie, claiming to be “too busy” to fix up a costume, and shook hands with an italian renaissance painter, rossi. morgan invested his creativity in wearing a purge mask with all-black loungewear, while to accompany him came penelope as a cat. her faux whiskers aligned perfectly, her pink nose scrunching up at whatever corny joke rossi shared. then, her feline ears picked up the sound of her other two friends, and looking over, she came face-to-face with a ladybug and a fairy. 

“oh, look at these pretty ladies! where did you get those wings?” she animately asked jj.  “nevermind, not important-listen, stay away from morgan, he thinks he’s a murderer or something.”

“what?” emily chuckled. the three women turned to observe what garcia implied towards, and they all discovered said man- mask on and everything- hitting the italian bob ross with a foam stick of some kind. they couldn’t resist breaking out into fits of laughter, eyes glued to the scene before them. “is that a pool noodle?”

“yes, he’s bonking him,” garcia managed to voice. she reached out to grab a hold of each of her friend’s hands to guide them to the kitchen for drinks. still in the effects of what they’ve witnessed, emily grabbed four mugs out of a cherry-red, wooden cupboard-one of them for you, she’d pointed out-and placed them on the counter next to the stove. in the meantime, jj busied herself in making the hot chocolate in a large saucepan. “hey, do any of you guys want some?” one polite refusal came from her boss, and a couple grunts were heard from the men still fighting their dual. so, she continued her portions for her friends who had agreed, and although you still weren’t present, she’d added extra ingredients just in case. 

soon enough, the delicious smell of her concoction started flowing across the apartment, the spicy tinges of cinnamon, mixed with the sweetness of the chocolate and sugar, were enough to settle any tricks at hand. garcia was finished organizing the desserts on a skeleton platter, indulging in one as she rested an elbow on the counter to observe her friend’s cooking. 

“so, what’s in the cauldron, weird sisters?” you’d been sneaky enough to tread inside the kitchen without them noticing, rather odd considering they were supposed to notice a foreign presence. they’d each produced their very own distinct response: prentiss jumped up and reached for a nearby butterknife, jennifer dropped her spoon, and penelope choked on a crumb of cookie. “geez, relax! it’s just me, i swear!” you yelped. 

“you have a mustache, who are you?!” 

“you seriously don’t know- it’s me, for god’s sake!” confused by their newfound inability to actually recognize you, you removed the imitation hair on your upper lip along with your top hat. “see, i’m friendly.”

“young lady, do you want to make me go into cardiac arrest?” 

“no, but it’s halloween, so why the hell not, huh?” that earned you a not-so-friendly punch from the analyst. “i’m friedrich nietzsche, by the way.” 

the rest of the night flowed calmly. board games were brought out, popcorn was made, candy wrappers compiled in a large bundle in the middle of the circle-it was a familial setting, a warmth encircling the room as everyone participated in announcing eerie ghost tales or rolled their eyes at a silly dare. not everyone was exactly present, though; somewhere in the back of your head, there lurked a tiny worry surround spencer’s absence. if he really had turned down his invitation to come, he’d tell someone, right?”

“where’s reid-do you know?” you whispered to morgan, leaning in to the side to ensure your question’s safety. 

“he’s running late. he should be here any minute,” the agent caught the expression of worry, a hint of disappointment lingering in your features at his response. being the teasing friend he was known to be, he continued, “why, you got a thing for him?” 

“what, me? no, i don’t-i was just asking. just being a good friend.” he flashed you his infamous smile, one that knew what you truly felt despite your superficial attempts to disguise those feelings, but said nothing else.

eventually, it was your turn to refill the snack bowls. your suit fit loosely around your form to help you maneuver in the ways you needed to. at the moment, that was to stretch high enough to reach the top of rossi’s fridge, which was ridiculously tall compared to that man’s actual size. seriously, he was five inches shorter than you, how could he reach these damned boxes?

“here, let me help you.” you recognized it instantly, and what made you fall back wasn’t the voice’s spontaneity, but the hand that elongated to grasp whatever the hell you were there for. “here you go.”

struck by the sudden lack of speech, you looked at spencer up and down, then a few more times for further inspection before it hit you. bewildered by this-and you by his attire-the both of you widened your eyes and stepped back. 

“you’re checking me ou-”

“-you’re friedrich nietzsche!” and alas, the young, oh-so-intelligent man took the liberty of scanning you over to observe your claim. it was as if he were looking into the mirror, minus the the ownership of his own fake facial hair and differing height. 

“no way! are we-did we-?”

“he’s my favorite philosopher, i had to,” you clarified. 

now aware he was still holding a box of cheez-it’s, spencer quickly handed it back to you, interlocking his hands behind his back in a nervous attempt to hide his coyness. “he’s my fav-uh-he’s my favorite, too,” he stuttered.

as much as you resisted not to, you beamed at his attempt to sustain his formality, and you didn’t really mind being dressed as a super-ideological crazy man from the victorian era because, well, he was dressed like one, too. he came forward to help you refill the plates once the awkwardness fled the kitchen, and amidst minor cleaning and trash-bag replacing, you learned he couldn’t find a mustache that resembled the one he wanted. the only right thing for you to do was offer yours to him, which prompted a neat rebuttal from reid, yet you kept insisting he take it until his only option was that. 

on the way back, you sat alongside each other with penelope on your left and morgan on his right. unbeknownst to either of you, garcia tugged on your sleeve while morgan pulled on his ear. 

“you know he’s your soulmate, right?-” she’d said to you. 

“-pretty boy, you know what this means, right?”

and with the luminous rays of the full moon, and the fragrant aroma of autumn enveloping you both, you answered in hushed unison. 

“yeah, i know exactly what this means.”  

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #my writing! #spencer reid drabble

[web1995]

Look upon my Works, ye Mighty: The Colossus of Garfield

Fig. 1

Surely our readers will need no introduction to The Colossus of Garfield, tenth wonder of the world. A much-favored subject of Art, Poetry, and History, the Colossus continues to preoccupy our collective imagination, as it captivated the artists who hewed his hulking body from the mighty pliant rock. Babel-like, he looms as testament, monument, and warning— for the Colossus is the folly of a long-since fallen empire, attempting to immortalize their king— and yet, how his image immortally endures! 

Historians place the construction of the Colossus variably, but without a doubt before our millennium. The earliest historical references to the Colossus are roughly contemporary with ancient California. For centuries upon centuries, he has been a site of pilgrimage and tourism, similar to the (likely fictitious) ruins of the Colosseum (Fig. 2) as described by authors in the ancient world, which drew thousands of visitors curious to witness an immense historical object. The Colossus is one of the largest and most magnificent ruins standing today, and unlike the Colosseum, there is no doubt about whether it really existed. 

Fig. 2 [ Artist’s reconstruction of the apocryphal Colosseum ] 

Today, there are many historical depictions of the Colossus of Garfield, all worthy of examination, and it is our hope that whether you come to our little book as a scholar of the Colossus or as a reader who knows him only as the tenth wonder that you will find something of note or amusement here. 

Let us return to Fig. 1: 

In this oil on canvas painting of the Colossus, by an unknown artist in the 17th—18th century WX, little room is left for the sky. The Colossus and the vast plain of the rocky beach upon which he sits are the overwhelming focus, massive waves breaking upon his placid visage, walls of foam several feet in height building up around his immovable bulk. Bleached by sun, sea, and storm, the Colossus basks unperturbed. In the background, indistinct buildings larger than one might easily comprehend rise upon the sea cliffs, works of the mighty empire following the collapse of that which crafted the Colossus. 

The painting evokes a distorted sense of time and a distorted sense of scale, juxtaposing old and new, centering the Colossus despite its weatheredness, and even taking particular care to render that weatheredness with something like love. New climate data has determined that the seas were already receding significantly in the 17th century WX, suggesting that the artist, having visited the Colossus, wanted to reach back into time to when the sea had broken daily upon its monumental little paws. It was a time long ago— a time when the Colossus was already ancient. 

Fig. 3

In Fig. 3, we see another stunning oil painting of the Colossus by another unknown artist, probably dating from the First Modern Desert Age, though the possibility of the artist depicting an earlier time, like the painter of Fig. 1, cannot be discounted. Likely painted during the 2nd century RYE, here the Colossus sits among endless dunes. The desert takes on a naturalistic, bluish hue in contrast to the garish orange of the Colossus, somehow scarcely diminished by hundreds of years. The Colossus appears to offer some shade, but the unseen overhead sun fills the canvas with a palpable heat. 

Art historians throughout the centuries have disagreed as to whether the Colossus was originally built to stand at the sea’s edge, in the water, or on dry land, and who can blame them? The effect of the Colossus remains transformative regardless of where it sits. Perhaps its builders even knew that the Colossus would endure longer than the sea or sand upon which it originally was hewn into the shape it continues to hold today. 

Fig. 4

Fig. 4 is an oil and acrylic painting which likely drew upon the Desert Colossus (Fig. 3) for its composition. Probably dating from the 9th century RYE, the artist portrays a partially submerged Colossus in much the same style as the Desert Colossus, with influence also taken from the Sea Colossus (Fig. 1). Here the focus is on the shallow seas surrounding the Colossus nearly as much as on the Colossus itself, following the lead of the Desert Colossus. A sense of barrenness pervades the Submerged Colossus, no living things visible within the frame. The Desert Colossus by contrast is suggestive of perhaps some vegetation, perhaps some fungus, while the Submerged Colossus emphasizes a true sense of loneliness: the observer is alone with him. 

Fig. 5

In this engraving, from the Second Modern Desert Age, by the anonymous historian and physician known as The Anonymous Historian and Physician of the Second Modern Desert Age, we see documentation of how the eyes of the Colossus were mined for old materials for use in weaponry in the Fourth War. When the seas around the Colossus receded yet again, this time leaving behind a rocky bed, it became a simple matter to access the Colossus. Clearly, the urgency of the Fourth War took priority over preserving what was left of the Colossus’ original state. Decorative parts of the Colossus which can be seen in previous depictions are missing here, likely also mined for old materials. 

However, the Colossus certainly survived the Fourth War, and still remains standing after the Seventh War, his expression scarcely altered by the loss of his eyes. Perhaps it would have even brought his creators some pleasure to know that the Colossus played a role in wars so long after their deaths. 

For the Colossus must depict a Soldier Emperor, some have cried— a man in the form of an unknown beast, prepared to pounce. Others have argued that the Colossus is at rest, that nothing about his posture indicates a thirst for battle. Indeed, the Colossus cannot even be said definitively to represent a man, though the rulers he is believed to possibly depict are largely men. 

We have seen the Colossus itself throughout time. But just who or what is the Colossus? The question has vexed scholars for nearly as long as the Colossus has stood. We call him “Garfield” because some ancient texts do, not because we have any idea who this “Garfield” was or what he meant to his people. 

Fig. 6

Another tremendous monument which still stands today is that of the Sphinx, sometimes informally referred to as the Garfield by scholars of the Colossus (though this is an error, as the Sphinx pre-dates the Colossus by at least a century). In Fig. 6, we see a tempera painting of the Sphinx in which its similarity to the Colossus is undeniable. Could the creators of the Colossus have been imitating the Sphinx? The Sphinx is believed to be a representation of a ruler as a mythological being or a God, and perhaps the Colossus is similar.

Fig. 7

But what if the Colossus is meant to represent an animal? The animal is unidentifiable, and likely to be mythological in nature, though it may be a stylized depiction of a living animal. Scholars have debated endlessly which animal the Colossus might depict, with recent arguments being made for the Colossus perhaps depicting a member of the same or a related species to the unidentified animal seen in Fig. 7, a “photograph” from the 20th or 21st century AD, when the art of photography flourished briefly before being lost and the famed photographer Leonardo da Vinci captured this image. 

Fig. 8

And if we turn to other ancient art? Believed to also be a portrait of “Garfield” (which is to say, the person or animal portrayed by the Colossus), dating from a similar timeframe as the Colossus, Fig. 8 is likely a funerary inscription. Here, the figure depicted is a sort of guardian, perhaps looking over the deceased. 

Fig. 9

Another piece of ancient art, Fig. 9 was created by an artist known only as “MarkVomit” and has been the subject of much debate. Is it meant to reaffirm Garfield’s power, to remind the viewer that they are not immune to his propaganda? Or is it meant to protest Garfield, to subvert and challenge the propaganda that this ruler must have utilized to maintain his rule? The answers are lost to history. 

Fig. 10

Fig. 11

Fig. 12

Other sculptures appearing to depict the same figure exist, though none on such a monumental scale as the Colossus. A frequent theme seems to be his ability to control time, as seen in Figures 10–12. Was this what inspired the creators of the Colossus to build him so enduringly? 

Fig. 14

One of the more outlandish theories regarding his nature is that the Colossus is meant to resemble a cat (see Fig. 14 for a hyperrealistic painting of a cat for reference) but this has largely been discredited by modern scholarship. If the Colossus is a feline, certainly his species is different— simply observe the difference in ear shape, eye shape, and gait. However, certain cats do carry a gravitas reminiscent of the Colossus, which brings the question again to mind— could the Colossus have been an ordinary domestic shorthair all along? 

The identity of Garfield, if there is a historical “Garfield,” remains a tantalizing mystery. Here we have such a tangible piece of history, and we are so unable to comprehend him! In another sense, though, perhaps the Colossus has taken on its own significance, and may represent something far beyond the man he once symbolized, the God he was built to honor, or the animal he commemorated. For who in our modern world has not gone to see the Colossus and found themselves moved? His place as the tenth wonder is well deserved. 

Perhaps new understandings will come to light regarding the nature of the Colossus, and perhaps not. Either way, he will remain until he is entirely unmade, his old materials bit by bit chipped away by the hands of humans and humidity fluctuations, the silent and sole guardian of his secret knowledge. 

In closing, let us visit two pieces of poetry composed about the Colossus of Garfield (the first of which only survives in this single fragment). 

#art history