Find your tribe in a Sea of Creativity
Number Five - Blog Posts
Umbrella Academy Crash Course
You can probably tell which one of these disasters is my favorite lmfao
(It’s Klaus)
A high contrast poster that I started on in my computer graphics class while school was still in session
Reginald’s toast during the wedding episode
Three words: diego deserved better.
i am going to fucking destroy netflix
I don’t know if anyone has done this yet. But this is like Luther anytime anything happens in the show.
P.S I’m obsessed with the Umbrella Academy
When your siblings are being stupid^^^
Yet again more unrealistic beauty standards popping up on my feed. I can’t anymore🙎
compilation of my personal faves
Just watched the trailer for The Umbrella Academy season 4, and honestly, congrats to Netflix for finally finishing a series and not cancelling it!! (I am so excited for this to come out)!!!!!!!
Chaos
[Part I] [Part II]
[Five Hargreeves x Reader]
Summary : A very chaotic reunion.
Warning : None.
Chaos isn't something Five Hargreeves would choose willingly. Ever.
He wants a break.
From being a child superhero, to getting stuck in the apocalypse, then the journey of being an assassin, and proceeding to prevent the aforementioned apocalypse.
Him and his mind have been on a never-ending marathon.
So pardon him if he wants to take a step back and just relax.
This road trip was supposed to be the first step.
Was. Because Klaus derailed his plan.
Although, he'd admit that it hasn't been entirely unpleasant, as he waits for Klaus by the car, he concurs that this trip so far is nice.
The green field stretching around him, the subtle caress of sunshine, the gentle breeze, the complete absence of Homo sapiens. It's all very relaxing.
There's a sound. The distinctive sound made by cows. A cow's moo, to be precise.
His gaze trails over towards the sound— cattle grazing peacefully. He smiles, taking a deep breathe—
And promptly chokes.
Chaos isn't something Five Hargreeves would choose willingly. Ever.
But that doesn't mean, Chaos would show him the same courtesy.
Because Chaos, it seems, has a taste for him.
Deceptive in the appearance, well mixed among the shades of brown, black, and white. There, amid the serene creatures, stands chaos incarnate—
You.
Don't, his mind warns.
And of course, he won't. This is supposed to be his retirement. Why would he want to turn that upside down? Ridiculous notion, really. He would not—
His mouth has a mind of its own because it has already parted and yelled your name.
His voice echoes. Your name echoes. And if he must be dramatic, then the time has come to a standstill.
In a blink, your head snaps in his direction.
You blink. Once. Twice.
A grin spreads across your face—and he's startled by the confusing thought that whether it's really the sun that's shining or it's just you.
"FIVE!"
And you're running. Hands wide open. His eyes widen—feeling like a man standing before a bull, red cloth in hand—You're running, running towards him.
You are closer. And closer. Closer—
You trip.
Five sighs. In a few long strides, he closes the distance between you two.
Hand gripping you above the elbow, he hauls you up. "Are you okay?"
"Okay? No, I am not!" You reply, though your expression remains ecstatic. "I am—I am—I am," your brows crinkle in thought.
"Are you—"
"Phantasmagorical!" You exclaim. Fingers curling around his arms, you shake him a bit. "I'm phantasmagorical because I've met you. Been soo long."
Squealing, you hug him.
His palm is on your back in an instant, supporting you as you stand on your tiptoes.
He breathes in, willing his muscles to uncoil. It takes a few seconds before he lets himself rest his chin on your head.
All too soon, you release him.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, lest he did something stupid like draw you back again.
"What are you doing here?"
"Where?" You tilt your head, nose scrunching in a way he has always found adorable.
"Among the," gesturing towards the surroundings, "Amish."
"Ah yes," you nod, in a sage voice, "For peace."
He quirks a brow. "Really?"
"No."
A smile threatens to curl at his lips. "Then?"
"So there's this husband-wife duo, and they were my neighbours in the city. And then they stole stuff from my house. So, they're not husband-wife duo but thief duo, which honestly I kinda respect—"
"So you came back to get your stuff back?" He queries, cutting off what would undoubtedly be a long ramble.
You nod in an absentminded fashion, before snapping out of it. "What? No!"
He exhales in exasperation. "Then why?"
"I came here to get Lila's kraken plushie—"
"Wait, Lila is here?"
"Yeah, we came together—"
"What's she doing—"
Your fingers snap his lips shut together. Literally.
"No Lila. Pay attention to me. I'm here." And as if to prove that you are indeed here, you start jumping in front of him, hand open like wings, chanting, 'eyes on me, eyes on me, eyes on me.'
As if his eyes are even capable of being anywhere but at you when you're near him.
Rolling his eyes, he grips your 'wings' and pulls you closer.
"I'm never not looking at you," his mouth seems to have found a mind of its own.
There's a flush rising on your cheeks, and he feels a twinge of pride at extracting such a reaction.
"As you should," you say.
His confidence abandons him in a sudden manner when you peer up at him through your lashes.
He looks away, stepping back. Clearing his throat. "Need any help retrieving the stolen item?"
"Oh, I got it back on the first day I arrived here."
"Then why are you still here?"
"Having a bit of fun with the thief duo."
"So, antagonising them, and being a general chaos," he surmises.
"Haven't I told you, the thing about chaos is that—"
"It's fair, yeah, you have."
"You know what's not fair?"
"What would that be?"
In response, you settle your hand on his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair on the nape.
He suppresses a shiver.
"Having figured out that the more the love, the more the chaos. And then not being able to confess, for almost two years. Because, you see, it happened after I caused a bar fight after telling a man that this other man was making goo-goo eyes at his boyfriend. And then a brawl started, and I thought, 'huh, look what chaos love can cause.' And then I realised that If I'm chaos, then love is you—"
"What?" His voice is a whisper.
"You are the fuse of my chaos. And I would really like to be the fuse of your love, which is only fair—"
"What?" His brain is lagging.
"I love you!"
"What?" White noise.
You huff, standing on your tiptoes, face dangerously close to his—his heart is travelling all around his body in a frenzy—and his eyes close.
His nose stings.
You… You bit his nose.
His eyes flutter open, fixing on you. Rubbing a hand over the ache. "You absolute menace."
"Your menace."
Well, that's just unfair. Especially that impish smile of yours. "My menace are you now?"
"No."
Oh, for fuck's sake—
"But I want to be," you continue. "Will you let me be?"
Maybe his response is a bit too quick when he says :
"Yes," relief apparent in his voice. Tugging you near him, enveloping you in an embrace.
"My menace, mine." He words it out loud to solidify this moment, sealing it in the space-time continuum by pressing a kiss against your temple.
You both sway lightly, finding a middle ground between chaos and calm.
But of course, being the magnet for all things chaotic that you are, it doesn't last long.
In a flow, the cows explode and then Klaus is shouting, Amish people chasing him down.
And you?
You are giggling in pure delight. "Oh, isn't this fun?"
He says nothing as he puts you over his shoulder, blinks into the car, and promptly deposits you on the passenger seat.
And as he drives, he glances at you and Klaus— rambling and laughing and causing a ruckus.
Chaos isn't something Five Hargreeves would choose willingly. Ever.
But, if it's you, he'd make an exception.
..................................................................................
A/N :
And here is part two.
Hope you guys enjoyed this.
Thankyou! ❤
[ @slut4fictionalcharacters28 It's here. ]
Stay
[Five Hargreeves x Reader]
Summary : You are hopeful, you are exhausted, and you want Five to stay.
Warning : None.
Is this how it will always be?
This constant tug of coming and going, but never staying.
"Can't you stay for a little longer?"
Five sighs. Tired gaze settling on you. "You know I can't."
Can't or won't? You bite the retort back.
You met Five in a coffee shop a few months back. A conversation over black coffee was the start of it all, and now here you are, stretching at the seams of what you want and what he can give.
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright. I understand," you reassure.
And you do. His father, the academy, his duty, his family, you understand it all.
You just wish there to be a small corner in his heart for you.
You hope, with time, he will stay.
•••
"We have talked about this," Five argues.
No, we haven't. You talked about it and I listened.
"Is ten minutes more, asking for too much?" Frowning, you peer at him.
"I can't," he states, voice curt.
"Can't or won't?" You retort sharply.
You both aren't who you were when you met over coffee. It's been…you don't even remember how long it's been since you've known him. But you know, it's been long enough to hurt.
"You think if I'd the choice to stay, I wouldn't?" he fumes, glare infusing into his eyes as he stalks towards you.
You've never done it before, what do I know?
"I—"
His hands grip your shoulder, firm and unyielding. "I would."
He says it with such conviction that you believe him.
Desolation wraps around your lips and curls up. A smile bitten out of your heart, you offer it up to him on a platter.
And when he leaves, you hope the next time he will stay.
•••
"I can't do this anymore."
Your whisper is a proclamation. A despairing sound crossing over the chasm of silence between you and him, carried across by the bridge of shattered hope and bleeding love.
It's been years upon years of you consciously hiding behind the carefully crafted walls of ignorance and delusion. No more can you muster the strength to hold them up.
"Don't say that," the crack of his voice mirrors the one in your heart.
"I can't keep doing this," exhaustion slips past your lips, you hope it drains him.
"Just give me—"
"No," you cut him off. "Give, give, give, that's all I have been doing, that's all I have ever done. Don't you see?"
He walks around your bed, towards where you stand— by the window.
Once he's near enough, he lifts his hand to touch you, or embrace you, or calm you, but you turn away, so he thinks better of it.
"I'm sorry."
He's always sorry.
When you used to spend all those late nights or afternoons with him, listening to him, you'd deduced that apology wasn't something he was a master of unlike all other subjects.
You'd thought that apologies were a delicacy when it came to him. How wrong you were.
"Please, I can't do this without you," he's pleading, and yet it's not enough to stir the sympathy within. You want to cry all the same.
"No, Five, I can't do this. I can't let you do this to me anymore."
You keep gazing out of your window, so you don't have to see him.
Nature is a contrast of you. The air is dry, your eyes are not, the leaves aren't rustling, but your being is, the moon is full and yet, you're waning.
The night is the only comfort, reflecting the endless abyss you've fallen into.
He shakes his head, and with it all the semblance of acceptance. "No. Look me in the eye and say that."
So, you do. And you see.
In the depth of his eyes you see an unsettled ocean, oh how deep have you been drowning in them. The more you hold his gaze, the more you realize.
You cannot breathe.
You look away, if you keep looking into those eyes you'll surely suffocate.
"You can't, can you?" It's not a question. An observation. A declaration. It's Five Hargreeves arrogance.
"Your eyes suffocate me." You hope it hurts. "Your presence suffocates me." This time, when you look at him, you hold his stare.
"You don't mean that," the pain that invades your ears snaps you back. Not entirely. No. But just enough for the string tying his heart to yours to burn in agony.
The bridge of shattered hope and bleeding love is in ruins, and ruins rot, and you can't let them destroy you alongside. Ruins must burn.
"I do."
You burn the bridge.
The hush that falls after your decision is one that consists of broken shards, sharp enough to cut, to draw blood.
And they do. There's blood in your ear, copper in your mouth. Seconds tick by and in the torturous quiet you and Five both bleed together.
This is how the moon must feel—hopeless and splintered and wholly caged—when gazing down at those who cry under moonlight.
"I should leave."
The air near him shifts closer to you for a fleeting moment and then draws back.
"Five?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't come back unless you plan to stay."
He doesn't reply. Makes no promises. Just leaves.
And you?
You hope and you hope and you hope.
•••
When you come home, the first thing you notice is the air.
The air feels more welcoming, more mellow. As though the stagnant rust that had dried over the molecules has finally been stripped ; renewing everything.
Your eyes linger on the open door of your bedroom.
Breath in. Breath out.
Giving yourself a moment or two, to let the overwrought heart still, and the agitation in nerves to abate.
Silent are your steps as you tread across the living room towards the open door.
And there he is.
Five Hargreeves does everything in the proper way, cannot fathom doing anything in a way he considers less than perfect.
His presence isn't a surprise.
How could it be? When he'd announced it in bold calligraphy over rose-scented parchment saying, "I'm coming home."
Your gaze sweeps over to him.
Leaning against the open window, with his head tilted up and eyes closed. The afternoon sun shines down on him in sublimity, golden rays weaving through the lining of his skin.
He looks like home.
"It's been eight months."
The silvery thread of your voice tugs at him, unfurling the ocean of his eyes that you used to drown in.
"I know."
You fold your arms. "Bit arrogant of you to presume we could just pick up right where we left off."
"I don't presume." He shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I know."
"Oh?" You raise a mocking brow. "Is that so?"
"I have lived your love." His words are laced in nostalgia, it splashes on your face. "I have known your love. I know your love. And maybe, maybe I'm being arrogant here, but this arrogance comes from confidence, from belief in your love."
"I am tired, Five." So is my love.
There are more words you wish to say, however they are a jumbled mess. It doesn't matter because the softness of his eyes says that he understands.
"I have always fallen back on you, known that no matter what you will always be there. I'm here so that, you know, you can fall back on me now."
You sway on your feet. Warm tears eclipse your eyes. You step closer to him.
"And you won't leave?"
"I'm here. I'm here to stay." He extends his hand, the curl of his lips, the shine of his eyes, everything left open and raw for you to see.
And what you see is the promise of comfort and rest. Of peace and love. Of him and you.
So, you take his hand. And he pulls you in an embrace.
You meet him like the first rain after a dry spell. Like the cold droplets falling over the burning earth, soothing and mending the cracks. Except you both are the drought and the rain— you're his drought as he's yours, and he's your rain, as you're his.
I'm home, you think, as his hands envelop you entirely, while your come to rest upon his chest.
Heart sagging as it lets go of exhaustion. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds shelter in the nook of your shoulder.
Together, you succumb into each other.
Melding and merging with every breath, the essence spilling over. A game of hide and seek without the need to seek because you've already found each other. But you are hiding, somewhere near the core of your respective beings, finding solace by the soul.
There's much to talk about. But not now. For now, you're tranquil beneath the mirage that there's no one but you and Five in the world.
Sighing, you nestle into him.
Is this how it will always be?
You hope and you hope and you hope.
..................................................................................
A/N :
This one was inspired by the exhaustion I felt. Some abstract exhaustion that made me want to just succumb into someone.
And then I remembered this quote by Kafka— "I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us anymore."
And I thought, well there's no one to hide face in other than the pillow, but let's create something out of it! So yeah channelled all that into this.
It's a bit heavy on the prose...yeah I think the Sandman fic I'm working on has something to do with that.
Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this.
Thankyou! ❤
Stain
[Five Hargreeves x Reader]
Summary : You Paint Five.
Warning : None? But feels like there should be. Romanticism?
"I want to paint you."
The words escape past your lips like a shot. Swift and precise.
You have been sitting in his room for the past two hours. The two of you are next to the window, on the floor, reading. Or trying to anyway, considering you cannot focus on anything apart from him.
Something about the sunlight filtering through the window, casting shades of warm hued colors— mixed in a way you couldn't decipher one from another, made him look like a real life painting.
Your hands itch with the need to capture it. To hold this moment in your hand and spill it on a canvas. The thought loads in your mind, and before you know the trigger is pulled.
And here we are.
Five staring at you, confusion etched across his face. As though he's not quite sure what you said.
"What?"
In any other instance, you would have changed the topic. But now, now that you've expressed your wish, you don't want to back down. If anything, it has your desire intensifying.
"I want to paint you," You repeat, this time soft. A plea.
"Wh—"
"Shhh."
He has questions. He always has questions. Right now, you can't see past your desire to paint him. So, silencing him is the best option.
"Please," a whisper.
He considers you, gear turning behind his eyes, contemplating, weighing the pros and cons. By the end of his thought process, his eyes soften, and he nods.
"Alright."
You smile. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. "Could you blink into my room, and bring my supplies?"
He huffs in exasperation. Yet, the curl of his lips has a shadow of fondness to it.
30 mins in and you find yourself losing concentration.
It's not that you don't want to paint him anymore. Not at all.
The certain craving you had has subsided now that paint covers your hands. But not entirely, there's still something beneath the surface, a hidden ache of sorts.
That, and Five cannot seem to sit still.
"Stop moving," You order.
"I'm not," he retorts, as he leans over slightly.
Exhaling in annoyance, you decide to take matters in your own hands.
Shifting closer to him, your free hand closes around his jaw in a soft grip.
It works.
He's stiller than a statue, you muse, continuing with your task. A few moments pass before you notice thinking, I would say he's barely even breathing—
Your gaze snaps towards him.
You realize the gravity of the situation.
Lost in your painting, you shifted close to him. Far too close to him. Like closer than appropriate. Oh, you get the breathing thing now, you are on the same ground.
If you were to lean in just a bit, your nose would brush his.
The paintbrush falls off your hand.
You gulp. Eyes flickering between his.
Then something happens. Something magical, like a spell cast.
In a languid manner, he lifts his hand and covers yours—the one holding his jaw—in a grip similar to yours.
Eyes locking with you, holding captive, he makes your hands slide from the corner of his jaw towards his opposite cheekbone. Smearing the pale flesh in the shade of vermilion.
Your breathing quivers. Heart stuttering.
He lets go of your hand.
And said hand, seemingly on its own accord, trails down in a slow move—from cheekbone to jaw before stopping near his carotid artery. The pulse flutters against the tips of your fingers.
He lets out a shaky exhale. His eyes scan your face. You wonder, if they leave stains of blue in their wake. Imprinting you in a way unseen.
Your gaze peers into his. And you find yourself losing touch with everything, as though the world has gone blurry, and it's raining down upon the two of you.
You are lost. Lost in the sun dipping in the ocean of his eyes. Lost in shades of crimson. Lost in this honey glazed moment. Lost. Lost. Lost.
Blinking through hooded eyes, you watch him lean into your left, cheeks a breath away from touching.
"What are you doing?" you hush. Too afraid to speak louder, lest the noise disturbs the tranquility of stillness.
He presses his cheek against yours ever so slightly, the presence akin to a feather's touch. Yet, you feel the paint, from him to you, it seeps through your skin into your bloodstream and sings.
"Painting you," he whispers, voice strained as though the words escaping without his permission, leaning back—cheek against cheek, tendrils of warm crimson.—he spills the color from his being to yours, "in my color."
The words inject euphoria in your heart. It beats wildly inside the cage of your ribs, wishing for nothing more than to break free and surrender itself to him.
This is what you were craving, you realize. The ache dissolves. His confession. His admission.
With him, you wanted the colors of your essence to merge. Mixing the shades until one couldn't recognize him from you, and you from him.
Perhaps, you didn't want to paint him so much as be painted in him.
..................................................................................
A/N :
This feels so unpolished but I'm so tired that I cannot edit and stuff. So, sorry about that. Maybe I'll edit it later.
Out of context gif because using Five's gif felt wrong.
It's not even something like that or anything yet it feels like it. I went through the motions of, should I post it or not. But considering any review helps me improve my writing, I decided to post. Damn maybe I'll delete it later 😭
Still hope you guys like it.
Thankyou! ❤
From the Shadows
[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]
[Five Hargreeves x Reader]
Summary : The fact of the matter is, unrequited love sucks.
Warning : None.
“A mighty pain to love it is, And ‘t is a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.”
Ain't that the truth, you think. Gaze running over the tattered pages of your journal, reading the poem over and over again— as though it might soothe the sting.
Unrequited love sucks.
Your eyes dart up from your journal, fixing on the subject of your thoughts.
Five Hargreeves.
Sitting a seat forward on your left, next to the window. Head tilted down, scribbling away, wholly oblivious to your stare.
It'd caused such a ruckus in the school when 'The Umbrella Academy' started attending. Whispers and wide-eyed stares followed them, like they were stars—which fair they kinda are. It took months before things settled down.
Not that the stares and whispers stopped, mind you, they are still the apple of everyone's eyes, the students just got less starstruck and more subtle.
As for you?
After being paired for a project with Ben in literature class, you'd gotten closer to some of the others, emphasis on some.
Luther had shown clear disapproval at your appearance—something about you being an outsider. Diego too prickly, and prefers to brood. Allison too busy with theater, although you still exchanged polite greetings.
Klaus, Ben, and Viktor, on the other hand, had welcomed you with warmth. Ben and Viktor share your love for literature, and Klaus brings along an impulsive kind of fun with him, which you are all too eager to participate in.
Which brings you back to— Five. You still don't know how you became friends with him.
All you know is one afternoon you were waiting for your friends in the empty library, only to receive a text that they were bunking. You remember saying—
"Damn you, Klaus!"
"I share that sentiment," a voice spoke, startling you.
You turned around, eyes settling on the culprit. Five Hargreeves. He stood, leaning against the bookshelf, hands shoved in his pockets.
You'd talked to him a handful of times, during class, or when with his siblings. Acquaintances at best, still you both never tried to initiate a friendship or conversation.
"Seems someone was ditched," he continued, an easy smirk on his face. "I feel like I should ask you to join me," the smirk grew, "out of the goodness of my heart."
"And why, exactly, am I being showered in such kindness?" You retort. Lips curling upwards as you stepped towards him.
"Haven't you heard?" He tilted his head, a brow rising. "I'm a superhero. Benevolence is kinda our thing."
"Is that so?" you asked.
He gave a nod, mirth gleaming.
"How will I ever repay for such generosity?" Eyes widening dramatically.
"Well," a mocking frown, he pursued his lips. "You can promise to stay quiet as I work? Not too much, is it?"
You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped past your lips. You looked at him, taking note of the tiny curl of his lips.
"Lead the way."
And that was that. After that, talking to him became a routine, and before you knew it you'd grown much closer to him than Ben, or Klaus or Viktor.
It's been two years since you both became friends. Almost a year since you realized you're in love with him.
It feels like it happened all of a sudden and simultaneously, as though every second and every moment spent with him led to it.
Everyone knows. Your best friend. Ben, Klaus, Viktor. You have a suspicion that even Diego knows. And yet, it's a secret.
A secret that protects itself. Only from him.
You are a coward. You don't—can't fathom confessing to him. So, you stay in the shadows. And your love stays there with you.
You and your love.
From the shadows.
Your gaze clears at the thought—stepping out of the reverie—and locks on him again.
The sunlight filtering through, tracing his skin, making him even more mystical. A blue hue in his eyes as he concentrates on whatever he is working on. The furrow of his brow, the twitch of his nose.
Him in his entirety. Extraordinary.
You sigh. Extraordinary sounds like such a beautiful compliment, but not to you. To you, him being extraordinary means he's that much out of reach. Your reach.
Like, no matter what, there's always going to be an invisible line between you two. Separating you.
"You are staring," a voice cuts through. "Again."
Tell me something new.
You turn in the direction of it. Peering at your best friend. "Yes, Lila," you deadpan.
Lila, your best friend.
"It's pathetic."
Lila, your childhood best friend who has no filter.
"Yes, Lila," you agree. Honestly, at this point you're devoid of shame.
"Seriously, what do you even see in him?"
You open your mouth to question what she sees in the brooder, but your attention diverts.
Gaze narrowing at the feminine hand that has curled around Five's hand, to draw his attention. And yours inevitably.
Dolores.
You almost dismiss her. Almost.
It's Five. He'll brush the girl off. It's what he does. Has always done.
Not this time, it seems.
Because Five smiles.
A seed of dread plants itself in your stomach.
You look between the two of them. The smiles on their faces resonates a sinking feeling in your heart.
Yeah, unrequited love sucks.
..................................................................................
A/N :
Hello!
The poem at the start is by Abraham Cowley. Beautiful isn't it?
I really wanted to write an AU like this tbh, unrequited love kinda one. Angsty. So here it is. This one will have more parts btw.
Also for those who're waiting for Ballerinas & Brellies, I'm working on the chapter it's taking a bit longer, sorry about that.
I'm considering making a taglist, so like if you guys want to be added let me know.
Hope you enjoyed this.
Thankyou! ❤
Guys
WHY IS NUMBER FIVE/VEE LOOK SO CUTE RIGHT NOW! And second of all
The portal looks so derpy and weird but it has 2 eyes and not one, but it does look funny though and kinda like a timer with sand in it 😂😂😂😂😂
Is anyone gonna talk about the fact Aidan was 19 when they filmed...and Ritu was 34
barf....
I think they both hate mondays
That awkward moment When you’re trapped in your 13 year old body and have to save the world from ending
EMO HAIRCUT FIVE I LOVE YOU
TUA S4 TRAILER TMR BABY!1!!1!
The frost, it looks like dust has settled on the world
After everyone’s long been gone
But me, I was hidin’
Or forgotten, the only one left
Five screenshot redraw
