Sharon - Tumblr Posts
Lock the door next time; one of my brothers could have walked in and saw you in this form
I won’t want anyone else to see what is mine
👀
Send 👀 to walk in on my muse in their underwear
[Squeaks.]
Kyahー!
...R-Reiji-san!? Um...I’m kind of in the middle of getting changed right now!?
[She would panic a little, looking for something to cover up.]
mmm not bad
🗣reiji
Send 🗣 + a character’s name and my muse will do an impression of them.
[Pushes up her glasses.]
Good grief, you lot never fail to disappoint me with your sheer idiocy.
I suppose it is time I teach you all some manners?
How pathetic, I told you to always be prepared
[*gives you an extra clothes*]
Put them on now, hurry before someone else comes
*comes again and grabs off Sharon's bikini bottoms too, leaving Sharon n a k e d as a wee little baby*
[Shrieks.]
T-This isn't funny...!! What if somebody sees me like this...!? I can't even hide in the water because I can't swim...!
It’s not my fault that people go into my lab without permission, if they don’t stop who knows what will happen
Can someone please tell Reiji-san to be a little more careful with his potions and such…?
First it was turning people into children and now it’s gender-swapping…!? What’s next!? Turning into animals!?
*Cries for hours after watching the TFATWS season finale*
Hale and Totta cosplaying as Slayer and Sharon from Guilty Gear
Poor Hale, he hates wearing fancy clothes
Steve rogers is a pure human being
But he can fight you all day. Except if you are Bucky, he can't do that.
small spy x family theory
remember in the simpsons how milhouse's parents looked like him (and as a concequence they looked each other) because they needed an audience shorthand to indicate that they were related (obvious I know, right).
Now go back to SpyxFamily, think of Sharon from the mean girls office trio. We've never seen her husband on screen yet. Her child yes, but her husband no.
Which lead me to my theory, using the presence of the first paragraph above, that the the black-haired cow lick scientist from Anya's backstory might be her husband. The scientist and Sharon do look similar: black hair and circular glasses.
So far my only additional evidence (the explaining excuses kind) is that Sharon, and therefore her husband, haven't seen Anya in person yet (though there was that school photo where the Forger family were squinted into the corner).
This is not a strong theory but it is a theory.
The Avengers
They were seated in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating , though they each had a tray of food infant of them. They weren't gawking at me unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them. But it was none of these things that caught my attention.
They didn't look anything alike.
There were three guys; one I could tell was strong, he looked like he might be the captain of the volleyball team, and I was pretty sure you wouldn't want to get in the way of one of her spikes. He had short black hair parting to the left.
Another had hair hanging to his shoulders; there was something intense about him that made him look edgy. It was kind of weird, but for some reason he made me think of this actor I'd seen in an action movie a few weeks ago, who took down an entire army with a machete. I remembered thinking then that I didn't buy it—there was no way the actor could have taken on that many bad guys and won. But I thought now that I might have bought it all if the character had been played by this guy.
The other guy looked taller than the others, he had short dirty blonde hair. There was something kind about this guy, kind of like the guy you'd expect to see volunteering at an animal shelter.
The two girls there looked like total opposites. A blonde and a red hair. The blonde one looked like the schools prom queen, her hair was on a ponytail and she had a slight fringe covering her forehead. The red hair was the smallest in the table, she looked younger than the other four, who could easily be in college.
Totally different, and yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes—from here they looked black—despite the range in their hair colours. There were deep shadows under all their eyes—purple shadows, like bruises. Maybe the five of them had just pulled an all-nighter. Or maybe they were recovering from broken noses. Except that their noses, all their features, were straight, angular.
But that wasn't why I couldn't look away.
I stared at their faces, so different, so similar, were all insanely, inhumanly beautiful. The girls and the guys both—beautiful. They were faces you never saw in real life—just airbrushes in magazines and on billboards. Or in a museum painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to believe they were real.
I decided the most beautiful of all was the smaller girl with red hair, though I expected that half of the student body would vote for the blond prom queen girl. They would be wrong, though. I mean, all of them were gorgeous, but the girl was something more than just beautiful. She was absolutely perfect. It was upsetting, disturbing kind of perfection. It made my stomach uneasy.
They were all looking away; away from each other, away from the rest of the students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. It reminded me of models posed oh so artistically for an ad—aesthetic ennui. As I watched, the short dirty blond haired guy, with the kind face, rose with his tray—unopened soda, untouched apple—and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. As he glided though the back door he past another girl that shared the exact same features as the rest. She also had blonde hair and was significantly shorter than the guy who walked past her. I followed her as she made her way to the others, who hadn't changed.
"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten.
As he looked up to see who I meant—though he could probably guess from my tone—suddenly she looked at us, the perfect one. She looked at my neighbour for just a fraction of a second, and then her dark eyes flickered to mine. Long eyes, angled up at the corners, thick lashes.
She looked away quickly, faster than I could, though I dropped my stare as soon as she'd glanced our way. I could feel my blood rush to my face. In that brief flash of a glance, her face wasn't interested at all—it was like she had called her name, and she'd looked up involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.
My neighbour laughed once, uncomfortable, looking down at the table like I did.
She muttered her answer under her breath. "Those are the Avengers," She had a quick glance towards their table and continued, "There's Tony Stark, James Barnes, Pepper Pots, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova and the one who just let is Steve Rogers. They all live with Dr. Vostokoff and her husband."
I glanced sideways at there perfect girl, who was looking at her tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with thin, pale fingers. Her mouth was moving very quickly, her full lips barely opening. The other four looked away, but I still thought she might be speaking quietly to them.
Then I finally remembered that my neighbours name was Maria.
"They're all very . . . good looking." What an understatement.
"Yeah!" Maria agreed with another laugh. "They're all together  though—Tony and Pepper, James and Steve. Like dating, you know? And they live together." She snickered and wagged her eyebrows suggestively.
I didn't know why, but her reaction made me want to defend them. Maybe just because she sounded so judgmental. But what could I say? I didn't know anything about them.
"Well if they're not related then it doesn't matter." I said, wanting to change the tone but not the subject.
"Oh, Yelena and Natasha are sister but the others aren't related. Dr. Vostokoff is really young. Early thirties. All of them are sort of adopted."
"Sort of?"
"I'm not sure if they are adopted or some kind of foster kids."
"They look old for foster kids."
"They are now. Pepper and James are both eighteen, but they've been with Mr. Shostakov since they were little."
"That's actually kind of amazing—for them to take care of all those kids, when they're so young and everything."
"I guess so," Maria said, though it sounded like he'd rather not say anything positive. As if she didn't like the doctor and her husband for some reason . . . and the way she was looking at their adopted kids, I could guess there might be some jealousy involved. "I think Dr. Vostokoff can't have kids, though," she added, as if that somehow made what they were doing less admirable.
Through all this conversation, I couldn't keep my eyes away from the strange family for more than a few seconds at a time. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.
"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. How could I never have noticed them during my summers here?
"No. They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."
I felt a strange wave of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were still outsiders, not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only new comer here, and definitely not the most interesting by any standard.
As I examined them again, the perfect girl looked up and met my gaze, this time with obvious curiosity. As I immediately looked away, I thought that her look held some kind of unanswered expectation.
"Which one is the girl with reddish hair?" I asked. I tried to glance casually in that direction, like I was just checking out the cafeteria; she was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other kids had today—she had this frustrated expression I didn't understand. I looked down again.
"That's Natasha. She's hot, sure, but don't waste your time. She doesn't go out with anyone. Apparently nobody here are good enough for her," Maria said sourly, then grunted. I wondered how many times she'd turned her down.
I pressed my lips together to hide a smile. Then I glanced at her again. Natasha. Her face was turned away, but I thought from the shape of her cheek that she might be smiling, too.
After a few more minutes, the five of them left the table together. They all were seriously graceful. It was a strange thing to watch them in motion together. Natasha didn't look at me again.
I sat at the table with Maria and her friends longe than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I didn't want to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who politely reminded me that his name was Clint, had Biology II with me the net hour. We walked to class together in silence. He was probably shy like me.