#impostors (criminal)

[m1d-45]

You know, I've been thinking. The stars in our world often look quite dim, especially in areas where there is light pollution. Suddenly, I'm imagining that in the Imposter!AU, the Creator looks at the stars at night, captivated by their brilliance. Perhaps Scaramouche or Mona (Whichever you prefer, you may also just write another character you think fits this scenario :D) find them. The Creator looks at them, then back at the stars.

"They're very lovely, you know? The stars never shine this brightly back home. It's a lovely sight..."

They smile. "I'm happy that I'm able to see them, even if it's in another world. I appreciate you letting me look at them before I die."

Perhaps the character takes pause... And sits next to them.

It's a lovely night.

in the stars

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: violence, blood, both of those in your future so technically you’re not hurt yet, not written for mona mains, sorry, didn’t work with the plot :/ also diona/klee/qiqi/nahida/sayu mains are on thin ice with this one. questionable plot. barely edited.

-> lowercase intended

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

< masterlist >

the stars never lie.

mona clutches her catalyst to her chest, wide eyes turned to the sky. she whispers to them, hoping they’ll change, shift into something she’ll understand, anything.

they don’t.

her head lowers, inspecting the book. thrilling tales, the spine reads, the cover a simplified dragon with a sword through it. she tries to read into it, to try and pick apart the motives behind the weapon, but all it returns is a simple needlepoint.

a compass. one she’d followed ever since she caved into the pull on her catalyst, one she’d followed out of the city at dusk and into the plains, hiking up starsnatch cliff at its behest. her twin tails had lost some of their curl on the journey, her hat flopping sadly. it was late, later than she’d normally be awake, and she stumbled once on a rock before quickly catching herself, checking to make sure you hadn’t moved.

you, sat at the peak of the cliff. you, surrounded by cecelias, face turned to the stars. you, who turned at her short cry.

“are you alright?”

she couldn’t bring her hands to shift her catalyst into its attack position. her hands, free from their usual gloves, dug into the cover of the book, shaking both with the chill of night and with… she couldn’t tell, couldn’t pin whether it was fear or nervousness, or something else that blurred the line between panic and excitement.

“just fine, thank you.”

her voice was harsher than it should have been. she could tell you were being genuine, the way the water in the air shaped around you like it wanted to cling made that clear enough, the stars shining down on you as if you were the only being on the planet.

the stars never lie. so why were they saying you meant no harm?

you turned back to the stars, your hands shifting back to weave into the grass between the cecelias.

"they’re very lovely tonight. the stars, i mean. they never shine this brightly back home….” against her better judgement, mona glanced up. the sky was particularly clear, constellations shining down unhindered. “it’s a beautiful sight.”

orders from the knights echoed in mona’s head, orders extended from a god she’d never met. she knew the knights wholeheartedly meant what they said, truly believing the words they were told, but you…

hesitantly, she brought her hand in a circle in front of her, scrying for your constellation. you didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, and she relaxed slightly in the knowledge that you didn’t have a vision.. still, there was something strange about the empty space where yours would have been. swapping the sigils and rotating the outer edge, mona decided to read your future.

all the air was sucked from her lungs, the images depicted in the water making her mouth dry. the water warped and bubbled a dark color, as if it itself hated to show what it did.

you were on your knees, tight steel chains wrapped around you and latched onto hooks in whatever you were sitting on. in front of you stood the favored, the creator’s most prized, their weapon drawn. their form was taught with anger, nearly seething. it was strange, so uncharacteristic that it froze the astrologist in place for a moment.

no matter how fiery the disposition, vessels of yours were calmer after being wished upon, heart stiller for being by your side. they, the most prominent on your team of them all, should be at most handling such a severe situation with a tick in their jaw and quiet fury in their eyes, not…

she watched with sick horror as the favored attacks once, your chest caving once, twice with hitched attempts at breathing before you slumped over, blood trickling from your neck. the favored stepped back, weapon dismissed, and mona closed the illusion before it played any further. she hadn’t meant to look all the way to your death, only a few-

…only a few hours.

her hands shake where they’re still clasped in front of her, the remains of her scrying circle swirling in her palms. you didn’t even have a day.

she let the water fall, sending it towards the cecelias around you, willing them to stand brighter as she approached. she couldn’t bring herself to summon her catalyst, not now that she knew what your fate held.

the grass was damp beneath her, seeping slightly into her nightclothes. you didn’t say anything, simply passing her a flower that you had been twirling in your palms. she willed it to heal, restored the color to its petals and the strength to its stem, then passed it back. she had no use for it, not when you…

you chuckled as you took it, staring down at it for a moment before turning skyward once more. mona followed your eyes up, spotting a well known constellation directly above you. nearly perfectly straight up, glowing like a beacon, was the constellation of the favored, six stars making themselves prominent against the dotted sea of night.

“beautiful, isn’t it?”

she swallowed, eyes flicking down to you. you were still watching the stars, probably tracing the shape of the constellation above you. unknowing of what it spelled for your fate, unknowing of the warning written above you.

mona settled into the grass a little more, taking her hat off her head so it wouldn’t fall when she looked up again.

“indeed, it is.”

#genshin sagau #genshin self aware au #self aware genshin #sagau #genshin #sagau impostor au #genshin impact #mona #mona megistus #sagau mona #sagau mona megistus #another fool with too many names smh #ANYWAY anon you are so right actually #and with mona? her character is criminally underutilized (i’m a criminal as well) #she can instantly tell intentions; tell truths from lies; literally just a scroll through her wiki lore page aiskksjd SHES SO INTERESTING #like…….. ugh….. i don’t have as good a grasp on her character as i’d like to because she’s so cool… so interesting and so many POSSIBILITIES #meant to post this forever ago sorry #but my mind made me write a 6k piece on the fatui harbingers soo…. :)) #yeah i’ve been. i started a new project that can’t really be posted bc it’s vvvv self indulgent so requests are even further sidelined UGH #mmmm procrastinating requests even though i have no reason to

[vikingpoteto]

You wanted prompts for drabbles so may I suggest any hurt/comfort liulao scenario, this ship is underrated qwq

Kung Lao dismisses the young students, but he keeps his smile frozen in place even after the last of them is gone. He's supposed to be responsible for the newest Shaolin now. Just another title he's fought tooth and nail to earn and he keeps telling himself that he deserves it. This is just another step on the way to prove himself.

He feels a familiar presence behind him and old doubts make his insides cold. How long has he been there? Did Lao notice because of his own skill or because he let him?

"Can I help you, Liu?" he asks, as nonchalantly as he manages.

"I believe you helped as many people as you can today," Liu replies.

Kung Lao turns around to face him. Liu Kang smiles softly at him, and his lips are so beautiful, his eyes so soft and earnest in their affection, it hurts. Everything hurts. Even when Liu Kang approaches him and loops his arms around his waist. I don't deserve him, he thinks.

"One of these days, Raiden is going to walk in on us," he says, half joking, half honestly concerned.

"Both of us would notice Lord Raiden," Liu Kang says without missing a beat.

Unlike Kung Lao, Liu Kang thinks the world of him. Would burn down the world for him. Sometimes, when Liu Kang holds him, Kung Lao stops thinking about earning his place and thinks he belongs. He forgets about rankings and legacies. It makes him worry about one day waking up and finding out this has been all a dream.

"Actually, between the two of us," Liu Kang continues casually. "I'm sure we can sneak out. Both of us completed our duties for the day, yes? It's only fair."

He rubs circles with his thumb on Kung Lao's cheek, as if he wants to erase the fake smile and allow his partner to just relax. For a moment, Kung Lao lets him. He leans into the touch and hums.

"I suppose we could. But can you keep up with me?" he teases.

Liu Kang grins, mischievous, a side of him that almost no one except Lao knows, and Kung Lao decides that he'll enjoy this for as long as it lasts.

Whether he deserves it or not... Whether it's real or a dream... It is his.

Send me writing requests!

#poteto writing #liulao #kung lao #liu kang #mortal kombat #kung lao's massive ego vs kung lao's impostor syndrome and huge expectations FIGHT #i agree this ship is criminally underrated #i hope you see this and i hope you like it #if you want more of them feel free to shoot me an ask anytime

[i-was-today-years-old-when]

i learned that in 1935, a tiger shark that had just been brought to an aquarium in Sydney spat out a human arm. At first it was believed that it was an unfortunate swimmer, but soon the police realized that this case continued.

King's arm

The shark that vomited the arm was not the same one that had eaten it. To explain, the tiger shark had eaten a smaller shark, and that was the one that had eaten the arm in the beginning.

It turned out that, despite the damage to the limb, it was possible to tell who it was, also because he had quite conspicuous tattoos, and the fingerprints were still well preserved. He had cuts all over his arm from a sharp object, a razor or a blade. This indicated to the police that it had not been an accident.

The arm belonged to an amateur boxer and criminal named James Smith, who had been missing since April 7, 1935.

The initial investigation led the police to a Sydney businessman named Reginald William Lloyd Holmes. Holmes was an impostor and alcohol smuggler who also ran a successful family boatbuilding business.

Holmes had hired Smith several times for insurance scams. Shortly thereafter, the couple met Patrick Francis Brady, a former military member and convicted counterfeiter. Their "friendship", as is often the case in such cases, ended badly.

The investigation revealed that it was Patrick Francis Brady who murdered Smith, dismembered his body and threw it into Gunnamatta Bay. There, his arm was eaten by a shark.

The rest of the body was never found.

#today i learned #facts #truth #history #news

[the-hopeless-haze]

I Do Bad Things With You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: smut. nsfw mdni

Summary: You don't feel like you're a good agent. Aaron assures you that you are. And then he fucks you. or inn other words, I think I need someone to study my brain because I did cry in my boss' office for very similar reasons to this and I am very much attracted to her but we did not fuck in her office and she has no idea I want her I just have breakdowns at work because 1) it sucks and 2) I am mentally unwell. I just truly don't know if this fic was birthed from the worst compulsory heterosexuality of all time or if I'm truly just an insane bisexual (I think it's the latter) but when I tell you I have not thought about Hotchner in years I MEAN years. I haven't watched Criminal Minds in like five years until today to write this fic. But like. He is FINE. y'all know. you're here. come for my unhinged summary stay for the smut idk

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“I can’t do this anymore,” you mutter under your breath, hating how the tears fall anyway, how you can’t stop them. “I’m not doing a good enough job. I need to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Aaron asks you. “Why do you feel that way?”

“It’s just… it’s just I feel like I can never get a grip. Like I can’t ever get everything done that needs to get done. Like I’m not good enough.”

“You’re good enough. You’re a good agent. You come in and you do your job,” he says gently. “I don’t need anything else from you.”

You were usually so put together, so stoic, even, so sure of yourself. He can’t quite believe you’re in his office like this, past the verge of tears, sitting across from him weeping.

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him.

“For the effort you put in. How you’re a new agent and you still proved yourself to my team. You’re living up to your potential and then some. We appreciate you. I appreciate you.”

“You just have to say that.”

“No. I don’t have to say anything. I’m telling you what I see and what I believe. And I’m not letting you quit.”

“But, sir, I—“

“I won’t accept it,” he says firmly but quietly. “You’re too good of an agent to lose. You know this. You know your grades were stellar and your psychology background is enviable. You know you passed every test with flying colors. The adjustment to being a full-fledged agent in the first year is tough, to say the least. It’s grueling. Getting accustomed and used to death, danger and just the pressure of the job is something that not everyone can handle. But you can. I know you can. If I lost you, I’d lose an asset. You’re an excellent profiler. It’s intuitive for you.”

There it is, though, that behavior analyst part of your brain and you noticed how he said “I” and not “we” and how his eyes softened, how he wasn’t looking at you sternly and stoically but there was more of a tenderness in his dark eyes.

He likes you. He means what he says. You know he does.

But that isn’t enough. You don’t believe what he says. You don’t believe you’re worthy. This job takes up so much of your waking hours but when you’re outside of it you have next to nothing. You’re not close to family here in Virginia. You don’t have a significant other. You’re not home enough to have a dog. And you just feel like you’ve been letting yourself go since you only seem to have time to eat, sleep and work.

You’ve always been an anxious person. You’ve managed to quell the thoughts wracking your brain with years of practice and medications to a point where you can function, to a point where you made it through school and made it into the FBI. Impostor syndrome dies hard, though. You keep trying to swallow down your tears but it’s fucking impossible when you’re like this. You dry them on the sleeves of your blazer, biting your lip nervously.

“Don’t cry. It’s okay,” Aaron says, breaking through your thoughts.

“It’s not okay,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t be breaking down crying.”

“You’re human,” he says gently. “This job is overwhelming.”

“It doesn’t seem to get to you.”

“It does. It still does. I… I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

“I just don’t think I can do this, Hotchner. With all due respect, I need to put my two weeks in,” you say, strengthening your weakened resolve.

“No,” he refuses, shaking his head. “What do I have to do to get you to see what I see?”

You sigh, leaning forward and bracing your head in your hands. “I don’t know.”

You feel him before you see him, refusing to lift your head up as the tears started streaming down your face. He kneels in front of you, taking your hands gently from your cheeks, but your eyes are still squeezing shut. “Look at me,” he orders.

“Hotchner, I—“

“It’s Hotch. You know that. Or… you can call me Aaron. Just call me Aaron. Look at me.”

Finally, you blink your eyes open, tears spilling over, and he squeezes both your hands gingerly.

“Good. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home for the night. You’re going to take your mind off of the job. And you’re going to come back tomorrow morning and everyone in here is going to talk about how much you’re missed when you’re gone. Because we all value you. But you need to take the time for yourself. You’re burnt out. You’re not a bad agent. You’re just mean to yourself and you shouldn’t be.”

It’s not lost on you, the way he’s still touching you when you don’t think you’ve seen him so much as brush against anyone else on the team. Is he…?

You squeeze his hands back, forcing yourself to smile.

“There we go,” he smiles back. “See? Do you feel better?”

“A little. Thank you, Hotch.”

“Please. You can call me Aaron in private,” he reiterates. He would have, could have, should have let you go by now. But he hasn’t.

“In private?”

“I don’t let just anyone use my first name. There’d be questions if you started using it especially since you called me SSA Hotchner for months before I got you to just say Hotchner at least. You’re a rule stickler, hm? I think that’s part of your problem.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to think rules are made to be broken,” you counter. Sure. You were a stickler. You were. Deferential to authority - that deserved it. You spoke out, and you would speak out of turn if anything felt wrong or uncomfortable. Rules made things feel safer. Still. You’d call out the unjust. And you think Aaron is the same way.

“Some of them are,” he muses.

“You yelled at me,” you say suddenly. “My third week.”

He furrows his brow, trying to recall the incident you were talking about and then he nods. “You were reckless. You put yourself and Morgan in danger. You walked straight into an ambush. It was a mistake. A rookie mistake. A mistake you learned from. You never did it again.”

“But I—“

“It’s been almost a year since then,” he says, gently. “I don’t hold it against you. I’ve had to pull everyone who works here aside for something. And I’ve been pulled aside myself. No one’s perfect. I… I raised my voice because I was worried about you. Not because I was angry with you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding. “Okay.”

“I wish you could see what I see,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I see a strong, capable, intelligent young woman who’s an amazing profiler — you can glean someone’s familial background in record time. I see a woman who holds her ground and then some in interrogations.”

“I’m crying in my boss’ office right now,” you titter awkwardly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still all of those things. I see a beautiful woman who’s passionate about her career, who wants to do the best she can…”

He trails off. You wonder if he realizes the weight of what he said.

Always walking the line of professionalism. Making any comments regarding your appearance was crossing it, even if it was as benign and modest as “beautiful”. It was still a step too far.

But you, you’re depressed and anxious, and you’ll take whatever you can get.

He’s still kneeling in front of you.

You know it would be stupid, especially when he’s a broken man himself, even if he denies it to everybody. His wife cheated on him. It was hard, with the job, to have a stable relationship with anyone outside of it. You know this. You’re living it.

He’s still touching you and your skin is on fire now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he makes no effort to move, no effort to stop staring through your eyes to your soul. Is he profiling you? Trying to see if your breath hitched when he let the compliment slip?

“Don’t be,” you say breathily.

“It was inappropriate,” he says, and he does get up then, wincing at the stiffness in his knees from crouching in front of you for so long. You miss the warmth of his hands already. “You’re dismissed, agent. Go home and take care of yourself.”

Your emotions flip like a switch, it’s just how it’s always been, and you use it to your advantage in a room full of profilers. It’s good to be unpredictable, a wild card. You don’t even mean to. You just are. You can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next. He stood up, so he’s towering over you as you sit in the seat across from his desk, but he’s looking down at you, waiting on your next sentence. And what you say is, “Agent? I thought we were on first-name basis, Aaron?”

It’s the first time you’ve said his first name, and it goes right through him. He wasn’t lying. Not many people do have the privilege to use it. None of his subordinates would be brave enough, maybe not even if he gave them explicit permission like he gave to you. It’s intimate, all these walls up in this bureaucracy that even something as simple as a woman using his first name could drive him up the wall like it would an upstanding Christian man in Regency England. Rules. Rules to be broken.

Aaron whispers your first name, and it’s barely audible, but you hear it in his low, soft baritone. Not the first time, but the only time he’s said it without your last name tacked on the end of it. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Aaron?”

You’re teasing, now, and he wonders if it’s just a reflex, trying to gain back some of the power you lost by coming in here crying, or if you genuinely want something from him besides reassurance and a couple of hours off from work. It was maddening at first, trying to figure you out. He still doesn’t know exactly who you are and he’s resigned himself to the fact that maybe he’d never be able to nail you down.

“Don’t,” Aaron says again, looking at you sternly as you stand up.

“What is it that you don’t want me to do, Aaron?” you ask, and you’re still not eye to eye but you’re closer now, and his eyes never left your face throughout the whole conversation anyway.

He says your name again like it’s a curse under his breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Stop it.”

“Use your words, Aaron.”

“Stop teasing me,” he murmurs, looking away from you for the first time, down at the floor. You never expected him to be so… shy.

“I’m teasing you?” you ask, feigning innocence. You didn’t have to be a profiler to see how he was getting tenser as you continue this conversation.

“Yes,” he says, looking back up at you, an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before. “And I suggest you stop.”

“Or else?” you say before your brain can catch up. You’re playing with fire. You know you are.

But you like him. Tall, dark, handsome, nothing like the men you’ve been with before. Other men were intimidated when he walked into the room. And you being you… you always wanted to break him down into a crying, blubbering mess, and be the only one who got to see him like that. Break the stoic wall and get to see him. Human.

And if he was this reactive to you just saying his name?

Lord help both of you.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Go home for the day.”

“Is that to help me, or you?”

He shakes his head, smiling a little. “Perhaps both of us.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the chance to get my resignation if I make things so… hard… for you, Aaron,” you say, and you move a little closer, his breath hitching audibly in his throat.

Again. He says your name like it’s the worst curse in the book, hissing it like it physically hurts him, and you know, maybe you are.

“A little selfish, maybe. I’d miss you too much,” he admits. “And I meant what I said. I’d lose an asset. You’re a stellar agent.”

You don’t really know what to say, now, but he continues.

“Profile me,” he whispers. “In this moment. What am I thinking?”

“So you don’t have to say it out loud?”

“Mm.”

“You want me, Aaron,” you say shakily, losing your resolve almost as quickly as you gained it back. “I don’t think you’d have to be a profiler to figure that out.”

“Is it that obvious?” he asks.

“Right now… yes.”

“You need me. You need me to show you how valued you really are,” Aaron says, searching your eyes for confirmation that you want this, too. As always, though, you’re unreadable. “Say it. Let me show you my appreciation.”

God. What in the world? Your brain is fuzzy with lust, and never in a million years would you have thought this is how today would’ve gone. Mondays back in the office are always the worst, piles of paperwork from the cases prior to sift through and file and the anticipation of when you’d be on the road or up in the air next always gnawed at your stomach. You fully expected to give your notice and come home crying. You didn’t foresee the prospect of being utterly fucked by your boss who very much did not want you to resign.

You know why the rules are in place. Dating coworkers was messy anyway, never mind dating someone in this line of work. Still… you thought it made sense in a way. The only person who was really going to understand your crazy schedule was someone who was working the same hours.

So you nod, giving him full permission to do as he pleases.

His lips meet yours, surprisingly soft and gentle, akin to the way his hands squeezed yours before. “I can’t believe I held myself back from doing this for this long,” he mumbles against your mouth, then he pulls you in an embrace, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck where he can reach. “I need you here. I need you to promise me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay, Aaron.”

“I’ve wanted your body since the second you walked into this building. I need you. You ground me. Make me feel better, human. Like maybe I could exist outside of the field and outside of this office.”

“Did you know I was struggling?”

“You hide it well. I knew you were frustrated, but the last case was tough and we all are a little on edge. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you to lean on, honey,” Aaron says, moving his head back to face you, eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I want you to always come to me if you need anything. Anything.”

You don’t say anything, just hum contently, pressing your mouth back to his for a kiss that starts off chaste and quickly becomes heated, his hands cupping the curve of your ass.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. “Promise me you’ll always come to me.”

“I promise,” you agree.

“Good girl,” he affirms. “You’re such a good girl. Never have to worry about you doing your job. You always get your reports to me on time, you always make brilliant deductions when we’re going over cases, you always make sure the rest of the team doesn’t need anything… such a good girl.”

You kiss him fiercely, the voice in your head screaming he was your boss and both of your careers are on the line if this goes south long silenced. His large hands on your ass pull you closer to him, and you feel his hardening cock against you as he does. “Aaron,” you choke out breathily.

“Feel me? That’s what you do to me, honey.”

You snake a hand between your bodies and palm him through his dress pants, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that to be your next move from the way his cheeks flush and he groans heavily. “This is about you,” he manages to say, taking your hand away from his clothed cock. “All about you. Go sit on my desk, honey.”

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together as he follows you and takes his suit jacket off, revealing his tasteful button-down underneath. “Good girl,” he whispers, spreading your legs with hands, kneading the flesh of your thighs as he does so, letting the fabric of your skirt ride up.

And then he digs his nails under the thin sheer of your tights and rips them. “Aaron!” you hiss in surprise.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he responds almost dismissively, easing the torn fabric down the length of your legs, kissing the swell of your calves as he takes your heels off and places them on the floor underneath the desk.

“I’m more worried about how I’m going to walk out of here,” you say, smiling.

“I sent them all out on different tasks and told them to get lunch first. They’ll be gone for a while.”

“Did you plan this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Not exactly,” he smirks. “But now you can be as loud as you need to be.”

“Aaron,” you say, almost scolding, but whatever you were going to say after that is lost in the recesses of your mind as you feel his mouth on yours again, hot and ready, tongue gliding against yours with ease. He shrugs your blazer off, too, leaving you in just a black tank top and your skirt that was hiked up to your waist.

“I believe regulations are to wear long sleeve button-downs underneath blazers,” he says lowly. You know it’s a lie. If Garcia can dress the way she does there are certainly not strict restrictions on what you can wear, even if you’re a field agent. But you’ll play along.

“I believe regulations are not to have your subordinate spread out on your desk in front of you, sir,” you retort.

Aaron chuckles deeply at that. This is how you usually were, sarcastic and snippy, even with him at times. Funny. “Rules and regulations,” he muses. “I think I’m alright with those two being broken.”

And with that his fingers of his right hand start ghosting your cunt, pressing the thin cotton of your panties, groaning lowly at how wet you are. “You’re soaked, honey,” he says. “Can I feel you? Please.”

“Yes, Aaron, please touch me,” you nod.

He pushes aside your panties, slipping his index finger in slowly, catching your lips with his in the process.

“Want to make you feel so good, so much better,” he murmurs, starting slow and building up pressure before he inserts another finger, stretching you out, making you impossibly wetter, reaching depths of you that you couldn’t reach yourself with your much shorter and thinner fingers. “Lift your hips,” he instructs, and in one swift motion, he slips your panties off, pocketing them in his dress pants. “Good girl.”

“Not fair, Aaron,” you say.

“What’s not fair, honey?”

“You’re still fully dressed,” you point out, reaching for his tie to loosen it. You were absolutely soaked, you could feel it, and you wonder if his desk will stain from your slick. You untuck his shirt from his pants and run your hands over his stomach, scars under the pads of your fingers, God, you want to lick every inch of him.

“Mm. I can help you remedy that,” he agrees, meeting your hands when you were halfway through the buttons on his pristine white shirt, pulling it over his head along with his undershirt. You reach for his belt buckle and he stops you. “Not yet. Let me do something first.”

And before you know it his tongue is on you, swirling incessant circles around your swollen clit, and you can tell he’s not taking his time now. He wants to bring you over the edge and fast, and you wonder how long it will be before the rest of the team do return from their extended lunch breaks. You’ve been eaten out before, sure, but to use a cliched metaphor for the umpteenth time in human history, you finally figured out what women meant when they said their man ate them like it was their last meal on death row. You clamp your legs against his head, and he moans, sending vibrations through your cunt, damn near sending you over the edge as you pant and whimper.

“Am I not making you feel good?” Aaron looks up in worry.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“You’re not screaming. I suppose I should try harder,” he says, furrowing his brow and then he adds his fingers back, fucking deep into you. His tongue focuses on your clit and your thighs are shaking and you gasp, no longer able to hold yourself up seated, leaning back and bracing yourself on your elbows.

“Aaron, I’m so close,” you moan, trying to fight the urge to push him away as the pressure builds. You squeeze your thighs tighter and the sudden force of it drags Aaron’s tongue flat against your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge, whining his name over and over again.

He doesn’t stop.

“Aaron,” you choke out, trying to back away from him due to the overstimulation. “Aaron. Please.”

“You can be louder than that,” he says, not bothering to lift his head, voice muffled by your wet cunt. “I’m not stopping until you reach a decibel level I’m satisfied with. And I will know if you’re faking.”

You’ve never had anyone go down on you for multiple rounds. You were lucky if you came once with previous partners. Part of the reason you never wanted to make a move with Aaron was that you figured he would ruin you for other men.

And God. Were you right.

You only hope you’re ruining him for other women.

You know you’re next orgasm will be embarrassingly close as he never gave you a chance to come down from the first one. You didn’t expect it to come on like it did though, your right hand carded in his jet black hair, just again, him flattening his tongue against your clit as his fingers continued to scissor you open and you can’t help it, gasping for air, shouting, yelling, keening his name. “Aaron,” you plead. “I can’t give you another one. Please.”

“Shh. Good girl. You can and you will. For me,” he commands authoritatively.

And you can. And you do.

The next time, mercifully, Aaron stands up, and leaves you alone to breathe. He kisses you and you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s achingly hard now, a quite visible tent noticeable in his dress pants, cheeks red from exertion, everything from his nose to his chin wet with your slick.

What a vision.

How were you ever going to get this out of your head?

“Can I be inside you? Please?” he asks.

“Yes,” you affirm.

Aaron lets you unbuckle his pants and lets them pool to the floor, helping you out of your tank top and bra, sucking and biting on your nipples and the flesh of your breasts for a few moments before he steps out of his shoes and boxers, completely bare in front of you.

“God, Aaron,” you breathe. “You’ve really been holding out on me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and his cheeks flush redder. “I could say the same for you, sweetheart.”

“How long?”

“I told you,” he says lowly, lining his cock with your entrance. “Since the second you walked in this building.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask, but it’s a loaded question if not a stupid one. There’s a myriad of reasons why you don’t tell someone who works under you that you want to fuck them stupid. That you like them. That you love them?

You frown slightly. You don’t think you could handle it if this was the only time you got to be with him like this.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, lifting your chin with his thumb. “You promised you would tell me.”

“Is this… is this a one-time thing, Aaron?” You ask tentatively.

“I don’t want it to be,” he answers quickly. “It’d be a daily occurrence if I had my way.”

With that, he grabs your hips, and looks at you for consent, then slams all the way in when you nod in affirmation. Neither of you can help the moans and groans escaping your mouths at that, you from feeling completely full and him being fully sheathed in you.

“I… I love you,” he says, pressing his sweat-sheened forehead to yours. “You don’t have to say it back. I know how dangerous and inappropriate and difficult this situation is never mind adding emotions to it. And I… I’m not good at them in the first place. I just… I just need you to know that. I want to be with you. All the time.”

“Again, Aaron, why did you never… fuck,” you trail off as he starts moving his hips, setting a slow and languid pace.

“I don’t know. I was afraid,” he chuckles.

“Of me?”

“You’re intimidating. You’re beautiful, smart, and capable. To tell you I wanted you…”

“You’re calling me intimidating?” you ask. “You? Of all people?”

“I’ve seen you interrogate. Baby-faced assassin, hm? You’ve shaken some grown men in their boots.”

“Including you?”

“Including me,” he chuckles, then softens. “Seeing you cry like that today… I… it broke my heart, honey. I never thought I’d see you break. I’d do anything to make you never feel like that again. You need to stay.”

“I already promised you, Aaron,” you say, biting your lip as he somehow angles his cock deeper in you. “I love you.”

Kissing you fiercely, he squeezes your hips, and you can’t wait to see if there’ll be bruises there tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips. “God, you’re fucking squeezing my cock, honey,” he grunts, and you feel yourself clench more at his words. You’ve never heard him swear. Ever. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”

“I’m surprised you lasted this long, old man,” you tease.

“You’d be surprised how much stamina I do have,” he threatens, rolling his eyes at you. “You’ll see tonight when I have more time with you.”

“How presumptuous.”

He scoffs, doesn’t say anything, but starts running over your clit with his thumb, kissing you deeply, fucking you faster and harder, setting a much more brutal pace.

“You just need me that bad, Aaron?” you ask, hellbent on seeing him break. “You need to fuck me all the time now that you’ve had me?”

“Yes,” he pants. “Need you all the time. Every day. Need to fuck this pretty cunt. Make you know you’re appreciated. Valued. Loved. Never want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again. Not…I’ll worship you. Kiss the ground you walk on. Fuck you until you can’t stand. Whatever it takes.”

“What about you, Aaron? How do you feel right now?”

“So fucking good,” he groans. “So fucking good. Such a good girl. You keep sucking my cock back in every thrust, you feel that, honey? So wet, so warm, fuck, I’d stay inside you forever.”

“Yeah, Aaron? Hmm? I—“ your teasing backfired on you, and before you can think of anything else to say, you come on his cock, your nails dragging down his back stalling his motions to stutters and he’s asking you, begging you, “Please let me cum inside you,” he begs. “Please, honey.”

You nod breathlessly, unable to speak, and you don’t think he’d be able to make it out of you in time completely if you’d said no because you feel his seed fill you as you’re still riding out the aftershocks of your own orgasm and he’s moaning your name in choked sobs and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever fucking seen or heard.

“I love you,” he whispers, dark eyes looking up at you from where his face now rested in the swell of your breasts. “I love you. And we’re going to make this work come hell or high water.”

“I love you,” you say back once you catch your breath. “Are you still sending me home?”

He laughs. “You look and smell like sex.”

“Do you think you look or smell any different? You did this to me,” you say, messing up his sweat-streaked hair more with your fingers. “I think your boss should send you home, too.”

“Hm. Perhaps I could convince him,” he says, giving you a wide smile.

He helps you get dressed, kissing you wherever he can reach in between and it takes much longer than it would have had you dressed yourself. You’re not complaining. But there’s no fixing your hair or your tattered tights. No fixing Aaron’s disheveled hair, either, or the sweat stains around his armpits from when you teased him for so long.

“Follow me home, honey,” he instructs. “Round two.”

Maybe you should have mental breakdowns at work more often.

#Aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner #hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotchner x you #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader smut #hotchner x reader smut #hotch x reader smut #criminal minds fanfiction

[jutenium]

Okay so basically this is JJBA and Ace Attorney crossover idea that stuck in my mind very hard

WHAT IF THE BEST CHAOTIC GOOD CHARACTERS MET!?!? UGHHHH CAN'T STOP THINKING

Just imagine how much in common Maya and Okuyasu have: (MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ACE ATTORNEY TRILOGY!!!)

🤝To lose an elder sibling, the only adult who cared about you, but to gain the most reliable friendship in your life

🤝Their last living family member tried to kill them (Okuyasu's brother and technically Maya's ant and OMG the evil spirit of her cousin Dahlia in her mother's body-- THAT'S TERRIBLE)(i know that there is also Okuyasu's father and Maya's little cousin Perl, but it's still terrible)

🤝THEIR LAST LIVING RELATIVES ARE TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER (Keicho tries to kill their father, and Maya's ant and newly discovered cousins are directly related to the murder of Maya's mother GOD, THIS IS AWFUL I'M FEELING SO BAD FOR THEM my poor little meows meows😭😭)

🤝TO GO THROUGH EVERYTHING IN LIFE AND SEE ALL KINDS OF SHIT BUT TO KEEP SHINING

🤝The two sweetest suns in the universes that could ever interact

🤝One of them is often mistaken for a criminal, and the other IS a criminal (MAYA DID NOTHING WRONG well except maybe robbing Phoenix's wallet, but even that could be considered almost consensual)(I'll describe this in more detail in the next part, with the interaction between Phoenix and Josuke)

🤝Hc on Okuyasu who can see ghosts after almost dying🤝Maya the medium

AND WHAT IF MAYA COULD CHANNEL THE KEICHO'S SPIRIT SO THAT OKUYASU COULD TALK TO HIM FOR A WHILE:

And of course...

🤝LOVE FOR GOOD ITALIAN RESTAURANTS WITH PRETTY ITALIAN CHEFS (well, one of is an impostor but that's not important)

"DELICIOUS!!"

"I told ya!!"

#jojos bizzare adventure fanart #jjba #ace attorney trilogy #maya fey #mia fey #tonio trussardi #okuyasu nijimura #keicho nijimura #crossover #неймовірні пригоди джоджо #хоч куди адвокат #кросовер #маруся відун #марія відун #окуясу ніджімура #кейчо ніджімура #тоніо трусарді (??) #украрт

[adarkrainbow]

"A Series of Unfortunate Events" perfectly translates and subverts the essence of fairytales.

It perfectly translates the essence of fairytale and despite NOT being a fairytale, fits the mold in many ways. It is the story of children who are sent into the metaphorical dark, dangerous and bizarre forest that is the world, after the loss of their parents ; they have to grow up and learn important lessons by encountering various strange situations and excentric characters, but also while fighting off villains and monsters motivated by greed or a pure desire to cause evil. Each of the Baudelaire sibling has a specific talent that serves to help them out of situations - like fairytale protagonists specific powers or gimmicks. The number three is a constant leitmotif in the story ; and Count Olaf is the perfect blend of all the various fairytale male villain-archetypes: he is the wicked stepfather/evil father, he is the greedy scoundrel, he is the impostor taking the place of the rightful hero, he is the evil wizard relying on tricks and disguises, he is the Bluebeard... There is no magic in this story, but the excentricity, absurd humor, nonsensical jokes and borderline surrealism of it all invites a strong sense of magic realism heightened by the constant mystery, vast conspiracies, unexplained references and strongly literary nature of this world. And a part of this "artificial" magic or "realist" magic at work here comes from the vast conflict between the two sides of VFD, which perfectly translates what in fairytales is this endless conflict between good and evil fairies, two incredibly powerful and bizarre groups of beings whose power ends up causing a massive influence and disastrous changes over the life and fate of protagonists, especially children that are often marked by their very birth as belonging to one side or another...

We have all the ingredients for a fairytale. And yet, the Series of Unfortunate Events subverts it all brilliantly in many ways.

The topic of morality, of the breaking of the good-and-evil, black-and-white pattern for example. The uselessness of any kind of "helper" or "donator" characters, forcing the protagonists to rely exclusively on themselves. The strong message that being nice and kind to everyone, that constantly playing by the rules or passively, silently enduring one's misfortunes will NOT help one defeat cheating villains and perverse criminals. And ultimately - the absolute refusal of any kind of happy ending - or even the refusal of any kind of complete or satisfying ending whatsoever.

Thanks to all that, the series (be it the books or the show), despite sticking to the fairytale genre through motifs, archetypes and plot devices, completely subverts and deconstructs your traditional "fairy story".

#a series of unfortunate events #asoue #fairy tales #fairytales #fairytale deconstruction #dark fairytale

[throwaway-yandere]

"No." (Yandere!Albedo/Reader)

A/n: I got sick but it just so happens I live off of spite so I finally finished this fic. Most characters are a bit/really obnoxious here. Also, the reader's state of mind and relationships with friends are unhealthy so if you're sensitive to the following CW please skip this fic. (If you're wondering why the fic is... Like this then here's me rambling here)

Unreliable synopsis: You kissed the most popular professor on campus. (Subtle yan!fic)

gn!reader

Cw: yandere, unhealthy friendship dynamics with clingy!sucrose & other characters, student/teacher relationship implications, the reader is an eccentric "class clown" with implied mild impostor syndrome, and small mentions of sexual harassment. (I'm not a medical professional so please take the impostor syndrome warning with a grain of salt– just added it in case this type of content is triggering. This isn't smut and it doesn't fully explore the last topic, but still please reach out for support if you are a victim of sexual harassment. Title IX is a very real thing.)

-------

"Does accidentally kissing someone cross a line in Title IX?"

That sentence alone makes you sound incredibly criminal out of context, and it doesn't get better with it either.

Your long-time friend, Sucrose, became fixated on setting you up with a romantic partner after the breakup you had three months prior. 

It was not a heart-wrenching tale, if anything, the entire relationship you had with Arataki Itto plays off as a major joke. You dated the man simply because you thought his impulsive behavior was entertaining, and oddly enough, he found your unpredictable temperament alluring. You just never anticipated that the idiot will buy an overpriced toy drum when you asked him to get a coke and "get something for yourself as well."

It's no surprise you permitted him to spend your money. But that wasn't even supposed to be a gamble. That was just an instruction, and he failed HARD. Arataki "I-swear-you-didn't-say-Pepsi(???)" Itto... got you orange juice. 

Breaking up was a huge relief. Instead of adopting a façade of the partner he wants, you have at last discovered the temporary freedom to choose over what you enjoy. For a while, they didn't treat you like a court jester; instead, they gave you the tender care you'd reserve for a helpless person.

Sucrose was distraught when you two decided to stop everything after Itto wasted most of your money by falling for Dori's scam. She appeared to be more affected than you two. Sucrose must have thought of you two as "the Golden pair" since she is naturally fascinated by research about personalities and relationships— more notably the 16 personality types. Seeing you two break up was an antithesis to her defense on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator test. You broke up due to (financial) differences, and there's no unreliable science needed to learn that.

Here lies the problem: Sucrose refused to give up.

You've heard concerns about her callous demeanor in person and online. Some people thought it endearing that you have a friend who genuinely cares about you, while others consider her nagging to be a burden, and rightfully so.

You felt icky after accidentally seeing her list of candidates, yet you can't bring yourself to make a strong effort to stop her. Sucrose lost two of her best friends last year in an accident, and you are essentially the only support that's keeping her sanity in check, but sometimes you feel as though you are risking your health on the line. She had written down some questionably extensive background on every man and woman she thought was worthy... You don't even want to know why Ajax is on that list.

No matter the reason, that didn't stop Timaeus from barfing out his triple-layered peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"W-WHAT on EARTH did you DO this time?!"

Sure is tough being a menace to society.

Hah... You're already on the brink of a mental breakdown and yet you still kept making self-deprecating jokes.

"WHAT'S with THE reaction?" You asked, casually copying his tone before you sank to your seat. "It's JUST a QUESTION."

"We know how you work, (Y/n)!" He knew you were purposefully trying to rile him up, yet Timaeus slammed a fist on the table in exaggerated disgust. "You did the EXACT same thing last time. You asked us 'hOw bAd woUld iT bE iF I datEd a gaNgstEr' and then you fucking did it anyways! What the hell– heck."

Timaeus's outburst was audible throughout the entire cafeteria, yet nobody seemed to care. The other people you shared the table with, Ying'er, Collei, and Tighnari all cast curious glances at you. It's not as though they have never heard of your misadventures before, frankly, whenever something happens they avidly observe it. You're all inseparable because of your shticks. However, apart from Sucrose, Dorian had been awol from your friend group, and it is no less due to the headline you're about to announce.

None of them took you too seriously, which they should have, given the nature of Title IX. As "good" friends, they should've worried over your safety and overall wellbeing. 

You could feel tears of fear and frustration swell up in your eyes.

Yet you couldn't be mad at them for reacting this way.

You're the chaotic link– the friend that didn't quite fit in– assigned to the role of being the "funny one." It started with a single joke until you unintentionally formed a false sense of confidence that you're something bigger than what you are. Everyone thinks you're hilarious, and you're afraid of disappointing them. You weren't trying to be funny most of the time, they just want someone to laugh and point at. Even though you are academically above average yourself, without your carelessness and gambles, you practically have nothing to offer this otherwise brilliant population.

Timaeus may not always deliver the right answer in his alchemy test papers, but he's never wrong about you even if he's drunk off of two bottles of Death After Noon. You recall Timaeus specifically in that instance because he was right; you have no future and you won't amount to anything.

In short, your image dilemma can be summed up by something you said high out of your mind in front of the mirror: "I think I accidentally gained an ego after joking about being hot and sexy one too many times, and now I'm being punished for my hubris." (You're never asking Lisa for philosophy book recommendations on Sundays ever again.)

And if it's true that you have no future and that you're nothing more than an insecure fraud, then you might as well come clean right now and let your "friends" break their ties. It doesn't matter, not anymore.

Ying'er laughed heartily. Contrary to her lover, she loves it whenever you act like this since it makes her normally composed and optimistic boyfriend snap and curse... You would know because she constantly divulges pointless details about how "hot" it was in private messages. And you two weren't even that close when she first did that. But now she's practically your unofficial attorney with how many times she played devil's advocate. You'll miss her.

"Why are you already accusing them? Who knows, maybe they're the victim here, babe. You're being too insensitive."

"Yeah, Tim, you should listen to your girlfriend over here." You nudged him and he glared vehemently.

"(Y/n), you're not supposed to openly agree with me, but yeah, why don't you give them the benefit of the doubt?"

You gave Ying'er a weak friendly wink and a thumbs up, feeling repulsed at yourself deep down. It's incredibly flattering for her to insinuate a professor would find you attractive rather than filing a restraining order.

She'll probably hate you once she finds out the truth, right? She did have a crush on your victim.

"This is them we're talking about." Timaeus glared. "They're bound to do something stupid. C'mon, Tighnari, say something!"

Tighnari merely shrugged and stabbed his fork into a mushroom (presumably poisonous, given its unnatural blue color). He had grown tired of dealing with your antics over the years. No lecture had ever worked in the past, and you both telepathically agreed that streak was not going to end today. You're lying about being self-possessed. He knew that whenever this happens, you were trying to be an idiot, and did not allow yourself to be an idiot. There's a fine difference between those two, and he knows which is which.

In a way, Tighnari views you in a more positive light than most of your friends. And he could sense that you have more grave matters to say.

So, he played along to help you set the mood. "I said this yesterday and I'll say it again: we're studying to become botanists. We're growing plants. Our future job isn't to help them grow a brain."

"Facts." You snapped your fingers and smugly nodded.

"Don't just agree with him!"

"You can grow plants all you want but just know my Timaeus right here doesn't need any more growing if you catch my drift~."

"Ying'er." Collei groaned.

"What? I was just saying his height is perfect enough as it is."

"I feel like we're having thirty different conversations at once." 

"Your mother is thirty different conversations at once–"

"Mx. (L/n)."

The table went silent. Except for yourself, who's still droning on, unfinished. Everyone noticed the uninvited man in the cafeteria and their lips were silenced. 

Here he is. 

"–eeegood evening, Professor Albedo." You stood up from your seat and slightly bowed your head down.

It's the untouchable Professor Albedo. The Alchemy Professor on this forsaken campus exudes a breath of freshness even if the scent of chemicals follows him like an affectionate dog. The only person that students would ogle at amid all the balding learning facilitators. Sucrose's mentor. Dorian's 32-year-old brother. The "Kreideprinz".

And the guy that might just sue you for your careless mistake.

Your circle caught the tension between you two and started watching the scene unfold like a car accident.

Professor Albedo cocked his head forward. You never claimed to be one of his adoring fans who can spot his emotions after one look, but your gut tells you that he's more than amused despite his stoic expression. He's similar to Dorian in that aspect.

"I trust that you've read the excerpt I've sent you?" He asked in almost a whisper.

You thoughtlessly lamely pulled up your library-borrowed copy of Title IX. In your perspective, nothing matters anymore, so you might as well let it out there.

Your friends jolted simultaneously, someone even dropped their utensils while Collei hit her knee up the table and hissed at the pain.

"Oh my God..." Timaeus shuddered.

Your friends had the face that collectively screamed "YOU MADE OUT WITH PROFESSOR ALBEDO?!" in all capitals, bold, italics, underlined, shadowed with thick black strokes– whatever makes it more out there. They're not in the wrong to react that way. 

In one single move, you broke 2 rules on the so-called Bro Code, one being the infamous "don't fuck my brother" and the second being the lesser known "don't fuck my professor". Not only that, but most importantly you violated a line or two in Title IX. 

Leave it to (Y/n) (L/n) to break more than three rules on the daily.

... You really should stop making jokes as a coping mechanism.

The cafeteria started to murmur, urging their seatmates for information they don't have. You released a small, clipped laugh. You should've thought that one through.

Tighnari meets your eyes with a sympathetic stare. You could tell he had more to say, but your heavy heart no longer wished to know.

"... Great work." The professor said just as nonchalantly. No doubt, he tried to salvage your reputation but you sabotaged it yourself. How wasteful. He beckoned you forward with one finger. 

"Come with me. We'll talk somewhere more private."

You walked away from your table and gave them one look.

They were incredibly disturbed to see a small sad smile on your face, rather than the wide mischievous grin that they were used to. After seeing that, they all had one emotionally detached thought in mind:

So, it wasn't a joke after all.

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

You neither like nor dislike Professor Albedo.

There are multiple fluffs about how friendly and dorkish he is as a reclusive person, but none of them sparked your interest. You often feigned reactions whenever Dorian expresses his apparent disdain for his more successful brother, and your sly smile barely reaches your eyes. If anything, hearing about the same man over and over again makes him feel oversaturated rather than entertaining. He's too perfect in those gossips that you're bored to tears. 

At least the rumors were positively right about one thing: his tastefully braided blonde hair and blue eyes make him no lesser than a portrait of a prince. But no more special than Dorian, in all honesty. You wouldn't be able to know which is which if they wore similar clothes and let their hair down. They're like clones of each other.

Albedo kept fidgeting a hand inside his pocket, and you can't hazard a guess as to what it is. A recording device, perhaps? You pride yourself on your ability to read and toy people like clockwork. That ability, however, does not translate well with Professor Albedo. 

You snapped out of your trance as the professor began reading what was on his clipboard.

"(Y/n) (L/n). 27. Graduate School. Taking a Ph.D. Botany program– though if I hadn't known that, I would've guessed you were a music major." Albedo vaguely pointed at your face without looking. "Your tongue would've fooled me."

You flinched. Is he teasing you or scolding you– you can't make sense of his tone. He's too monotonous.

"Professor, are you uncomfortable right now? If so, I could leave if you wish and we can talk via email instead about your complaint."

Professor Albedo eyed you carefully this time, even though he's squirmish. The tone you used to address him and your overall body language differ greatly from how you behave in the company of your friend group. Your professionalism does not match how the rumors perceive you. This is probably the reason why young professor Kusanali didn't believe any rumors about you. He was impressed.

"Am I supposed to be happy that you’re not giving me a moment of your time?” He said. "It's a bit difficult to achieve that state when you have yet to slip out of my mind. You did assault me yesterday–"

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of that, Professor." You cringed. "But–"

"Albedo."

"Sorry?"

"You kissed me, (Y/n). I think you can call me Albedo."

"Right." You chuckled nervously. "Like I was saying, P-Professor, it's all a major misunderstanding. I wasn't aiming to assault you."

Albedo raised an eyebrow. He did not miss the way you suavely dodged calling him by name. Other than that, assault is a strong word, and he did not expect you to use it as well. 

You thought it was a fitting word to use. Albedo barely makes eye contact, and he probably doesn't like being reminded that you stole a kiss from him.

"It's Albedo. So, you were planning to sexually assault another student?"

He is relentlessly quick on the uptake. Albedo sounded like a cop. What he said was correct, absurdly phrased, but correct nonetheless.

"I mean..." You rubbed your hands against your pants. They were a bit sweaty, and you had to accept the fact you were not faking it. You are genuinely anxious. "When you put it like that, it does sound inexcusable doesn't it?"

"It is a positively hair-raising notion, yes." Albedo deadpanned. "And if I had to take an educated guess, you were planning to assault my younger brother Dorian and you mistook me for him instead."

"..."

Figuring that out was a no-brainer. Although Professor Albedo is older than his brother, their appearance and physique make them appear twin-like. Dorian once droned about how it happened due to Albedo's poor upbringing under their aunt Alice's guidance, making his growth stunted. And his tendency to talk your ear out is one of many reasons why your intrusive thoughts often suggest that Dorian had no personality outside being the renowned professor Albedo's younger brother. Hence, you don't absorb a word of what he says. You didn't listen to gossip often cause you figured that you were not one for trivial gossip like the rest of the student botanists. 

... And based on the dilemma you find yourself in now, it appears as though you don't have common sense like the rest of your peers either–

"Please stop woolgathering. Is there a more interesting specimen to take note of on the floor? You seem to be more intrigued by what's on your shoes."

You cringed for what you felt like the 1000th milestone at that point.

"Professor, I know that I sound terrible–"

Albedo sighed. "I would never insinuate that, Mx. (L/n)." 

"But you keep cutting me off." You said in a questioning tone. It sounded a lot more polite in your head, yet the famous Kreideprinz was flustered by your reply.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean to. Carry on. You are aware that you sound like a sex offender, and?"

That came out incredibly cold. It felt like being under the cold blade of a frigid prince, and his icy stare and light complexion just adds the cherry on top. The professor said that he wasn't insulting you but his paraphrasing is exactly that. You didn't comment on it, figuring your education is more important than a harsh remark, and continued.

"... The truth is," you took a deep breath. "I only kissed you cause, well, I mistook you for Dorian, and also because I was trying to get Sucrose–."

"Sucrose?" Professor Albedo's eyebrows furrowed. "Sucrose, one of my–"

"Your student assistants? Y-Yes, sir." You nodded hesitantly. "We're best friends– not that it's unsurprising since I am a bad influence and she's a good person. I recently went through a breakup and she's worried about me. Dorian agreed to fake date and make Sucrose believe that she accidentally found us making out in a room to make it more believable but–"

"You mistook me for my brother."

"... Yeeaaahhh...."

"..."

This reminded you of your conversation with Dorian a while back. You asked if he and his brother would switch lives for a day, and he cackled and told you it happens more than the number you were thinking of. The moment you realized who you were kissing, you clung to the sliver of hope that it was Dorian wearing his brother's lab coat. It was not.

You looked down at your shoes again. It's too embarrassing and shameful that your entire lineage will probably be cursed. 

"..."

Knowing that you won't talk until he does, Professor Albedo read through his notes for a topic.

"Understandable. I presume you know my brother because you're both on the same course and are on similar schedules?"

"Yes, sir." Should you tell him the whole fake-date thing was Dorian's idea as well?

"It's Albedo to you. And to add to that, Sucrose is under the impression that we're dating."

"I think so, sir."

"That's not a question, (Y/n), that's a fact." He said. "She recently confronted me to ask if we're dating."

You gulped. Moment of truth.

"What did you tell her, sir?"

"What do you want me to tell her?"

You could hear your pulse pounding in your ears. 

On one hand, you want her to know what happened, but at the same time that would just blow you and Dorian's cover story.

But was that a smug tone you heard? Is he toying with you?

You bit your bottom lip. 

"... Yes, I think? What did you say, professor?"

"Albedo."

You tilted your head. "What?"

"Respectfully, please call me by my name and I'll tell you the answer." He smirked curtly, but it was gone before you could process it.

"S-Sir!"

Albedo shrugged. "Guess you'll have to ask her directly–"

"Sir Albedo–"

"Hmm, I don't recall having 'Sir' in my birth certificate–"

"Albedo! Albedo!" Geez.

He gave a small smile, longer this time. But he was still avoiding eye contact. You puffed your cheeks, embarrassed.

Prof. Albedo has a slightly twisted sense of humor.

None of this was professional, at all.

You felt your face growing warmer. You can't believe this is the same Albedo everyone is crushing on. 

You bit back a sharp retort. He sounded a lot more serious in campus gossip, and not the type to pull on your heartstrings like this. Your faith in that image is wearing thin.

The professor laughed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting such an enthusiastic reply. You don't have to be nervous around me, (Y/n). I figured that if we were going to do this, you could use my first name.

"I refrained from answering. But, if you wish, I can confirm her suspicions. However, I must inform you in advance that I find relationships rather... Tiresome." Albedo robotically sighed. "I struggle to maintain them, so you will have to guide me."

Never in your life have you ever considered the possibility that a professor in your grad school would ask you to fake a romantic relationship with him. 

You digressed, not wanting to make a decision just yet. "But isn't your job in danger?"

Albedo then spoke in a genuine trill of amusement. 

"Not at all. Besides, I don't care enough to file a complaint about this incident. Also, you're not my student. Suffice it to say, I've thoroughly checked the handbook and consulted the headmaster herself. Rhinedottir sees no problem with this arrangement–"

Probably because she's your mother.

"–Granted, it will not be in full effect unless you give this a go signal. Will you?"

You looked away.

"This situation... Kinda reads like some cheap Harlequin novel, doesn't it?" You muttered.

It's a great offer. But it sounds too good to be true...

... Did he say that he wasn't going to file a complaint in the first place?

The professor watched as your impassive stare morphed into something uneven and sly but unavoidably empty. You clicked your tongue as your hands slip back to your pockets. Albedo could tell you're holding back an ugly laugh.

A switch had been flipped.

Professor Albedo immediately noticed the change in your demeanor and crossed his arms. He's anticipated this much. There's no way he didn't know about your "self-destructive patterns."

How interesting. For both you AND him.

"So, Albedo." You lazily pointed at him. "Something's fishy about this, don't you think?"

"You're too eager to help. I'd get it if you have something to gain from this, like scaring off your fangirls or something, but you fend them off just fine anyways." You grinned.

"I'm flattered that you think I send them away effortlessly." He answered point-blank.

Albedo turned to you, his face dim and heavily affected by his calm resignation.

"It's incredibly taxing work. I've told you before, haven't I? I may seem calm on the surface but people can be... A considerable handful."

His smile belied the severity of his inner turmoil.

But you can't help but doubt him. You don't buy his pitifulness.

You reassessed the situation in an instant. The Albedo you're talking to acts far from the untouchable Chalk Prince from the get-go. His words did not boast his usual research-riddled speech. This act is more than just premeditated.

Sure. You're the sort who is bound by what you "owe," but you can't say you can't empathize with his problems because he didn't seem-- he ISN'T troubled in the first place. And you're almost sure of it.

You believe you're not smart enough to remain in this university. But at least you have faith that you're perceptive and street-wise. 

Still, you kept your hollow cheeky grin plastered to your face.

"Then why aren't you taking a less problematic approach? You could say you're dating Professor Alberich– you'd get some people off your back."

Translation: Can't you just bother someone else?

"By attracting other unpleasant folks pestering me about Kaeya instead, yes, seems like a sound suggestion. I'll keep it in mind for future reference."

Translator's note: He's being sarcastic. Stop trying to worm your way out of this one.

Albedo continued. "But right now that's not viable. If you feel guilty for stealing a kiss from me this may be a good opportunity to ease your conscience."

...

"That's it? But you won't report me if I didn't agree to these terms, right?"

"Of course. I have your best interests in mind and simply warned you." He gave you a faint smile, hoping to ease your nerves. "You're part of Rukkha's batch of dean's listers. I don't have the heart to file a complaint."

Rukkha was a great woman, but you don't deserve your scholarships and sponsors. You don't have any talent or skill to truly impress people, and it seems you fooled both Professor Rukkhadevata and Albedo into thinking you're something special as well.

"Professor...."

But with what he basically said just now is that there are no consequences for your actions.

"It's Albedo, and yes?"

"You seem to have reserved some very unrealistic expectations for me. You should be more distrusting."

"... What do you mean?"

"I don't see any reason to accept your offer." You honestly had no idea where this confidence is coming from. Perhaps your class clown persona had slowly rubbed off on the "real" you, and for once you didn't hate yourself for it.

Because you don't want to be in this relationship. It's legal, yes, and you're old enough, but you're incredibly wary. Albedo may be leagues better than Itto but that's beside the point: you're emotionally spent and you're not ready to get to know another person.

"Oh, understood. For starters, agreeing to these terms will make Sucrose less abrasive with her attempts to set you up, and I could help you with connections."

"That sounds as though I'll be abusing your influence..."

You paused. 

Did you tell the professor about Sucrose's disturbing attempts to hook you up with people earlier...?

You don't recall ever sharing that bit of information. You made sure to pick your words carefully so Sucrose wouldn't be seen in a bad light. Since when did he...

"What? No, it's not. It's simply a small trade for your cooperation."

"No."

"And– sorry?"

You can see the appeal. You truly do. When you are chosen by someone of greater influence and intellect, it seems almost magical. He could undoubtedly help your botany profession thrive. Most people would conclude that if Professor Albedo chose them from the crowd, they must be extremely unique in comparison to their peers. 

However, this is somewhat unethical. This is the kind of scenario you'd find in a shoddy coming-of-age novel that desperately tries to convince you that there are no other elements to consider but love. However, you must also consider your mental health, reputation, education, and other factors that influence every fiber of your being.

Albedo isn't the type of person who would jeopardize your future over a minor disagreement, but you never know with people. People change as much as seasons do. You are a living example of this. Itto would not have used that argument against you if it were untrue.

You have nothing against those who engage in lawful student-teacher relationships, but you're self-aware enough to recognize that you're not mentally fit to enter one. And sometimes the conclusion is as straightforward as that. Besides, you're sick of having others (including yourself) continually doubting your intelligence. Fake-dating a professor will only exacerbate the situation. Rumors will spread that you only earned your grades because of him and not out of your efforts. Dorian already had it rough, and you've learned what it's like through him. Simple self-preservation.

"Thanks for the offer, really, but no. If I'll date someone, even if it's fake, I want to set it under my terms as well." 

You scratched your neck, eyes lifeless.

"I'm sorry, Professor. But I genuinely can't see why this agreement will help both of us, I especially can't see why this will benefit you compared to your other options. I could just come out and say I mistook you for Dorian and it's an easy fix to my problems and in turn, you wouldn't have to deal with the stigma of dating a student. I'm sorry, Prof. I'll take a rain check on it." 

You shrugged uncomfortably. "Besides, this is still a student-teacher relationship. I'm uncomfortable being in an uneven power dynamic like that. I'd rather date Dorian instead."

...

Shit. 

Okay, maybe accidentally implying that you're open to dating his kid brother had to be the second most uncomfortable thing you subjected Albedo to.

You didn't mean to come off as THAT honest.

A test tube must've cracked somewhere around the area cause you could've sworn you heard something shatter. You flinched, but he didn't.

"... Is that so." The professor muttered. You almost didn't hear him from how silent his defeat was.

You sighed in relief so intense that you physically felt your shoulder muscles relax and your eyes roll back. Seems like he gave up.

"I promise that I'll pay you back in other ways, professor. I owe you and I'm sorry. But I must refuse for both our sakes." You said. "I have taken something important from you, and I will respectfully understand if you file a complaint for what I've done. No one should have a kiss stolen like that."

He didn't reply. Albedo stood there, eyes unblinking as he mulled over your words. At the beginning of this conversation, he barely looked you directly in the eye, but now he refused to look away. 

You waited for him to say something else and stood there for a solid minute. Nothing came. 

"Please, excuse me."

You wanted to say that you left to give him more time to consider but the truth is that you couldn't bare standing there for a second more so you left in a frantic hurry. 

It was only when you left did you realize what made you wary of him the entire conversation.

Professor Albedo wasn't breathing the entire time.

-------

Upon unlocking his door, Albedo was greeted by a boy with a face akin to his. He was waiting for him, and in turn, Albedo anticipated that he would be here, too. The boy sat idly and almost casually inside a room littered with wall to wall of red-stringed photographs and texts, and there was not a single hint of disgust or any other natural reaction on his face. Albedo's nose scrunched.

Dorian did not budge from his brother– master's office chair. He stared back with a blank expression. Most papers were by his feet, crumpled, but not discarded. How could they be, when all pictures centered around one very precious subject:

You.

You, in all forms, poses, and angles make you ineffably you. These are the candid shots that bring out the little moments that Albedo longed to study under a microscope. They didn't need to be dynamic, rather, Albedo adored the simplest pictures the most. Needless to say, images of you resting is the most popular. It's a lot more convenient and easy to take, but that doesn't cheapen the value and elation the professor feels upon holding the finished polaroid up close.

Every time he swapped schedules with Dorian, he couldn't help but be curious about you.

It doesn't stop there. Albedo clicked his tongue as he noticed the journal Dorian held. It was his dog-eared notes he cleanly put together when jotting down your schedule, private life, and other more delicate intricacies. The clipboard he had earlier is nothing more than a silly prop compared to his actual notes. There's something so breathtaking about making the "unknown" into the "known", and the same applies to every bit of your life that he was curious about. Albedo's aware that it's not something he should brag about. Retrieving paraphernalia such as worn-out gardening gloves and locks of hair from your shower drain was not something he acquired robotically. However, he didn't fancy the idea that Dorian read it and found it just as entertaining as he did. He didn't like the idea of sharing.

Maybe you were right.

Maybe he did reserve some very unrealistic and idolized expectations for you. But that was only because he can see your potential. He firmly believes that. It's an awful and objectifying train of thought, but the professor is convinced he'll be the one who can "fix" your people-pleasing issue.

He figured, if he wants to make sure you'd always be with him, he had to conduct some trial-and-error.

Albedo breathed harshly. He forgot how to do so. He never needed to breath.

"Did it work?" Dorian asked. "Did your plan work?"

His eyes went dim.

Albedo didn't answer.

He locked the door again. This time, he allowed Dorian to keep the lights on. If anything, it's a small reward for indirectly helping him. But not even his fellow creation can have what the genius professor of the century desires to attain. He has to face the truth.

Albedo pulled out a recording device from his pocket. You said no. There's nothing he could do about that. 

"No."

"No. No. No. No. No--"

He played your refusal over and over again.

He thought he did everything right. He genuinely believed he followed the right procedure in getting you to say yes. What went wrong, then? Albedo doesn't get it. He was sure that he didn't say anything wrong or suspicious as well. You shouldn't have known that he had been following you from that conversation alone. 

"No."

He practiced everything for hours.

"No."

Word for word.

"No."

He researched tips and tricks on how to let other people's guard down.

"No."

He thought not pressuring you to do it will make you more willing.

"No."

He even asked Alberich how to subtly flirt with someone.

"No."

So. What went wrong?

"No--"

Albedo slowly blinked before realizing he had thrown the device against the wall in full force. The batteries and their other internal components spilled on the floor. He didn't have the willpower to clean it up. 

It's an undeniable error. He still can't believe his approach failed.

Master was right.

"Dearest Albedo, if you can't have them in their most authentic self, then what's stopping you from making an indistinguishable copy?"

#tag: no - albedo #yandere genshin x reader #yandere albedo #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere fanfiction #yandere #yandere genshin imagines #albedo x reader #yandere male #yandere oneshot #ansy-writes

[floatyhands]

I'm so annoyed when people are like "Harvey Dent chose to go evil, he gave up on morality once the world hurt him". Bro. Since Eye of the Beholder, Two-Face at his best is when he's written as someone who has been always fighting. He had been fighting to keep a hold on that morality, to believe the world isn't rigged cruelty or heatless chance, to not let the trauma of his painful upbringing keep him down, to fight for a better Gotham. His passion for the law was him searching for order in the chaos of chance. Sure, he lost that battle, but he fought! If anything, he lost BECAUSE he fought in an incredibly self-destructive way. His attachment to the law and criminal justice only added stress to his mind and made him repress his mental scars instead of heal. The fall into villainy after the acid-scarring was not a man letting go, it was a man seeing the ledge he was hanging on by the fingernails crumble and give way. To say he chose this shit is like saying a depressed person gave up and let depression win.

This is especially annoying if you take into account Two-Face's entire comic book history, where when he initially appeared, he recovered and went on to be a completely law-abiding citizen. Except, Two-Face was too popular a concept, so first they had to bring the impostors who framed Harvey, then when that didn't stick, they scarred his face again and brought Two-Face right back. And since then, it's just been poor Harv getting dragged around the revolving door in and out of villainy, with him recovering and then some horrible thing happens to him that reawakens his, or the darker alter's, violent impulses. Or worse still, they have Harvey always be terrible. That he was always a two-faced villain deep down, and the scar simply brought it to the surface. They kill his good side off, in favour of making him a two-bit gangster with a coin flip gimmick. How could he not blame fate for his villainy? The hand of fate, the hand of the writers, always drag him back to villainy rather than let the Antihero seeking redemption idea stick.

Perhaps that's changed in recent years, I haven't been keeping up. But don't you ever say that Harvey Dent didn't fight.

#harvey dent #two face #twoface #rant #if i see one more “trauma reveals what you are” take #or someone have harvey try to One Bad Day a similarly facially disfigured good victim #or have him rig the coin toss to be a morton's fork #i will toss a coin into their grave

[lupizora]

The insanity that is the Kudou Yuusaku's Detective Show case 😆

Like I'm not sure how to process that Vermouth managed to capture KID's mannerisms towards Conan almost perfectly (the fact the line "tsundere brat" came from Vermouth, while it was so on point for KID, is kinda hilarious) or Conan letting his guard down because he thought she was KID, therefore harmless to let her in the Kudou manor, when idk Haibara is staying next door.

Shinichi, I know you trust KID with a lot of things, but seriously... He isn't the only master in disguise you are acquainted with, please?! (the fact Vermouth learned these techniques from the first Kaitou KID a.k.a current KID's dad, and no one is any wiser about this is killing me) 😩

Honestly, when and where did Vermouth acquire the knowledge of how KID and Shinichi act with each other outside of the public eye in the first place? Was this the case of playing it by ear from how Shinichi acts in general when he isn't pretending to be a child? Did Vermouth figure out it was KID who appeared as Sherry to save Haibara back during the Mystery Train arc? I have so many questions 😵‍💫

(If KID wasn't a criminal in the eyes of the law though, he could start suing for libel with so many impostors of him appearing all the time LMAO 🤣)

#dcmk #detective conan #edogawa conan #vermouth #kaitou kid #my post #text post #wolfsyapping #I still can't believe this particular 5d chess plan got past The Woman/evil Irene Adler of the series #Everything could have gotten so much worse if Vermouth wasn't fond of Shinichi and Ran all things considered 😅

[heedmywarnings]

Of all the GOLD I could've stole (1?)

"A thief? Feel remorse of what they've stole? Ridiculous... yet not impossible." - in which a criminal is guilty as accused. (True Impostor SAGAU AU)

The Jewels Shine No Longer

You cried, you bled, you thrashed and thrashed against the chains that bind you to your inevitable and cruel, cruel fate. No matter how you tried to reject it, you can't. You can't. You can't.

You cannot bite the hand that feeds you.

Why oh why? Oh why? Dear Celestia, why? Why you? Why me? Why must you be bestowed with this destiny?... if you can hardly call it that.

Jealousy? Rage? Sin? What is it? What did you do? Yes, yes it was. The lack of belief from the Gods, yes? Yes!? That must be it, the Gods are punishing me you.. yes.

Why, why can't they just kill you off? Why must you be regarded as... no. Why did they force you to steal the Creator's face? Was it to enrage them? Of all the curse they could've given... if all the power they had! They just had to force me you to sin because of a sin!?

Cut their wings off!

Destroy their halos!

Disregard their titles!

They are no Gods! They're brutes!

Why would the Creator allow this? How does the Archon perceived this as absolute truth? How are you a villain in Teyvat's history?

A punishment is meant to be cruel, to teach a lesson. This is no lesson, this is torment. Are we you all just pretty little slaves to Celestia's real ideals? Or the Creator's wishful thinking?

Does the Creator want you dead? Maybe. They've already sent their Archons after you, to kill you, to have your head roll on the pavement.

Are we really just thieves? Is that.. the truth? Just villains meant to be killed in a hero's valiant tale? Is that it? That's it? That how it's supposed to go?

...

If you use your teeth to bite rather than chew, then maybe you'll draw blood from the flesh.

#genshin impact #sagau #self aware genshin #sagau cult au #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau angst #impostor sagau au #sagau impostor #true impostor sagau au

[wizardbracket]

Round 1: Match 27 of 64

Why they deserve to be the ultimate wizard according to YOU:

Moraine:

“Hot and powerful”

Navani:

“She's a genius magitech artisan. she discovered two types of antimatter and INVENTED MAGIC AIRSHIPS”

“Navani's finest wizardly qualifications include that she is an engineer and scholar of magic, who joyfully spends her time inventing new types of magitech (for example, a device designed to lessen pain, which she has used the opposite way in a pinch).  Being a scholar is a huge part of her character, and her scholarhood is inherently centered on messing around with magic.  She's a grandma with mad scientist energy.  In her wizardly field of study, she once collaborated with, and became fast frenemies with, an immortal war criminal whose forces had imprisoned her (there were magical levels of lesbian subtext).  Her impostor syndrome might get in the way of her believing she's the ultimate wizard here, but she really does deserve the crown.”

#wizardbracket #moraine damodred #navani kholin #wheel of time #stormlight archive

[bonefall]

wait, DIShonor titles are a thing?

Yes! Yes they are!!

DIShonor Titles are pretty rare because they are a SEVERE punishment. Your name is everything to a Clan cat, it's something you earn, you carry around, it denotes your rank, status, and shows that you are a loved and respected member of your community. To have that taken from you is like being branded a criminal.

Brightheart is still getting a Dishonor Title, BUT, I completely removed the ableist part of it. Her scars are actually seen as a mark of her strength and beauty, for surviving such a grievous wound. That's highly respected in Clan culture.

Bluestar, instead, called her Swifthound. For getting Swiftpaw killed, and not stopping him from charging towards the dogs. It was a challenge to StarClan, "Take two Swifts from us, or leave her."

I don't like doing renamings (because it gets confusing fast) but here are some characters who would be eligible for Dishonor Titles;

Most of the cats under the Impostor, he should be handing these out like candy dried minnows

All ex-Dark Forest trainees

Darkstripe and Tigerstar

Under TigerClan, the halfclan cats

Any cat who botches a very important mission, displays extreme cowardice, treachery, and conspiracy could get their name stripped and be forced to wear that reminder until they have learned their lesson.

This is done VERY rarely though, I cannot stress enough that a Dishonor Title is widely considered more severe than temporary exile to Clan cats.

#better bones au #clan culture #Dishonor Titles

[aedesluminis]

Simonne Évrard's speech of 8 August 1793 in the National Convention

"I am not here to ask you the favors of cupidity that claims and craves for indigence. Marat’s widow just needs a grave. Before I get to the relieving end of my tormented life, I come to ask you for justice towards the new attacks committed against the memory of the most intrepid and outraged of the people’s defenders. These monsters, how much gold did they lavish! How many hypocritical pamphleteers were paid to put his name to shame! With such hateful rage, they tried so hard to give him a colossal political existence and a detestable celebrity, in order to dishonor the people’s cause that he proudly defended. This day, still stained by his blood, they persecute him to his grave; some other day, they still dare to murder his memory. They are even trying to depict the monster, who pierced his chest with the parricide iron, as an intriguing heroine. In this circle we see the vilest of them all, the Carra, the Ducos, the Dulaure, the shameless praises in their periodicals to encourage their peers to slaughter what is left of the defenders of liberty. I do not talk about the vile Pétion who, in Caen, during a meeting with his accomplices, dared to say that the murder was a virtue.

Soon enough the foolish treachery of the conspirators, who pretend to honor the civic virtues, will make the infamous publications grow, where the horrible murder is presented in favorable ways and the martyr of the patrie is disfigured by the most hideous convulsions.

But here it is the most wicked of their schemes: They bribed some foolish writers who shamelessly usurp his name and tarnish his principles to immortalize the empires of lies which he was victim of! Cowards! First, they flatter the people’s pain to get their praise, then they speak the language of patriotism and morality so that the people believe to still be listening to Marat; but all of this is just to slander the most zealous defenders who have protected them. It is to preach, in Marat’s name, the exaggerations that his enemies attributed to him.

I denounce two men in particular, Jacques Roux and Leclerc, who claim to carry on his patriotic papers and make his shadow talk to insult his memory and to betray the people. After spouting revolutionary platitudes, they encourage the people to outlaw the government. It is in those occasions that they use his name to stain in blood the day of the 10th of August, because his sensitive soul, devastated by the sight of the crimes of tyranny and the uneasiness of humanity, sometimes let out some rightful curses towards the people’s oppressors and public leeches. They try to preserve the parricide lie that persecuted him and made him look like a foolish apostle of anarchy and chaos. And who are these men that claim his place? It is a priest, who the day after the faithful deputies triumphed over their cowardly enemies, came to insult the National Convention through a seditious and wicked speech. There is another man, no less perverse, who is associated with the mercenary furors of said impostor. What is important to remark is that these two men are the same who had been denounced by him at the Cordeliers’ club  just a few days before his death as people paid by our enemies to create public disorder and, on the same occasion, they were also formally expelled from this popular society. What is the aim of this perfidious faction that fuels these criminal intrigues? It is to vilify the people who honor the memory of the one who died for their cause. It is to slander all the friends of the patrie, whom it has designated as Maratists; to deceive all the French people across the whole republic, who gather for the reunion of August the 10th, by presenting them their perfidious writings, in which they preach the teaching of the very people’s representative they slaughtered. It is to cause disturbance in these solemn days through some disastrous catastrophe.

God! What will become of the people? If these men can usurp their trust! What is the deplorable condition of their intrepid defenders if death itself cannot avoid them the fury of their murderers! Legislators, for how long would you endure it if crime insulted virtue? Where does this privilege come from, of English and Austrian emissaries to trap public opinion, to give daggers to the defenders of our laws and to know the founding valor of our raising republic? If you let them go unpunished then I denounce them all here to the French people, to the universe. The memory of the martyrs of liberty and the heritage of the people; that of Marat is the only good deed left to me, I devote to his defense the last days of a languid life. Legislators, avenge the patrie, the honesty, the misfortune and the virtue, striking at the most cowardly of all the enemies.”

Original in French

I personally did the translation in English. Let me know if I made some mistakes or if some parts need revision! Last edit: 31/10/23

#simonne evrard #frev #french revolution #my translations #marat

[krysmcscience]

MOGUS ART DUMP TIME

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Brown, Red, and Green raised a kid together? Probably, because there's no fuckin' way that kid would end up normal by any stretch of the word, and it would be absolutely hilarious to watch the assured family drama unfold.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if the kid they raised came from an entirely different canon universe altogether? Probably not, but that's what's about to happen in this fukken post, because in an alternate timeline, the kid these three adopted turned out to be Shio. (Yes, that Shio - the one whose canonical appearance typically requires a Body Horror warning. If you want additional context about who tf Shio is, there’s a simple summary of them in this post (some of the deets for other characters is, kinda outdated or wildly inaccurate now, ahaha, C A M), or you can read the WIP for the novel they’re from here. Although, there’s some good or bad news if you take the latter route, depending: Shio doesn’t show up until the end of chapter three, and you already have hella spoilers going in, LOL.)

That being said, get ready for some family photos of our favorite trio of gay space pirates, who have managed to accidentally adopt an impostor baby from a whole other universe, which is a totally normal and average thing to happen to anyone ever, no big deal. Pay no attention to the fact that their brand new impostor baby used to be a literal war criminal, one who attempted to rage-quit life so hard over being dumped that the creation deity of their universe took one long look at them and decided, 'Ya know what would be funny? Resetting this piece of shit back to Babby Status without any memories whatsoever of who they used to be, and then tossing them out into space for a trio of some of the biggest chaosmongers in this other reality’s existence to stumble across and adopt because they think they've just found some weird cute animal, rather than a fully sapient being that is going to molt into what looks like a human baby in a little less than two years. That would be So Fucking Funny and it needs to happen Right Now.'

'Look at how tiny and cute and huggable this lil guy is, surely they will stay this way forever~' Oh, Brown, you poor sweet naive little man. Shio's only three here, they've got plenty of time to grow. >:3c

Plenty of time to grow and decide that they're more of a 'he' than a 'they' this time around, even.

Sweet/sad fact about Brown - he refuses to allow a child of his to go without love and support because of the way he lacked those things growing up (and in general). Hilarious fact about Brown to follow that up with, though - that does not mean he will be responsible and NOT put his all into teaching his child to become a notorious space pirate just like him (with - of course - the Full Backing of Green and Red). So, Shio might not become a war criminal, per se, but, uh. He is Definitely still gonna wind up becoming a criminal. <:]

Yes, Red's shirt says 'Puppy Cannon', and it is indeed a reference to 'Party Cannon', why do you ask? Shio's shirt, meanwhile, says 'Squish Bab', whereas Brown's says 'I woke up like this (48 hours ago)', and Green's gauges have 'BlaXk HUle' on them. (Crinkle assures me it's pronounced the same as 'black hole', and while my brain understands this logically, my eyeballs still have doubts.)

'Well, Shio has gotten bigger and taller than me despite him only being 13, but surely he won't get any bigger than this, right???' Keep dreaming, Brown, this isn't even Shio's final form size.

Has Shio already accompanied his parents on several heists and raids on MIRA property while in some manner of disguise by now? Not according to any of Devon's paperwork. Which Shio helps with on a consistent basis to give his parents some alone time. And who wouldn't trust the beloved Admiral's part-time assistant~? He's such a calm, quiet, and responsible young man~ ;) Pay no mind to the fact that, against Red's wishes and to Green's not-so-secret delight, Shio and Brown have recently and very intentionally caused a full-blown society-wide panic back in Shio's old universe, thanks in part to them learning about his past life and making a series of videos on social media entitled 'Shio Survived So Get Ready For ~Kill All Humanity PART TWO~ LOL'.

In case it's not fully legible, Brown's shirt reads 'I went to another universe and all I stole was my *awesome kid* (and 50 thousand dollars) ... (and a car)'. Meanwhile, Green's 'Slutstomper' gauges are in reference to an absolutely raunchy electropop band from Shio's ex-universe. Red's shirt will be revealed in the next photo, and I can assure you, he does not understand what it means the way Green and Brown do, and it was all Green's idea because he just has, you know. So much class.

'I can't believe my son can lift and carry all three of his parents like it's nothing now. I'm so mad, yet I couldn't be prouder.' People who knew Shio before they got reset tried to warn you that they were an Absolute Unit, Brown, but you didn't listen. This is what happens when you don't listen. 23 years later, you wind up with an adoptive son who can easily pick up not just you, but both of your boyfriends along with you.

Has Shio gone back for another visit to their old universe with Brown by now to fake going on a Kill All Humans crusade for the sake of causing more mass panic? ...Maybe. Did they trick Devon into letting them borrow one of his ships for this endeavor? ...Possibly. Did Red end up so furious that he made both of them do three months of community service to make up for it afterward, and banned them from letting Green go along to help them properly socialize? Well, yes - absolutely yes, in fact - but to be fair, they both knew Green would have spent most of his time there being a slutty menace and flirting with everyone, anyway, and neither of them wanted to have to deal with that. They were already being punished as it was (by having to help a bunch of needy people with a smile), so, no need to make it worse for themselves.

Brown's 'Stabby Babby' shirt definitely features an angry baby holding a knife on it, but Shio's arms are in the way because he's Just That Massive. Also, I apologize for Green and Brown (but mostly myself) for allowing that Pupknot shirt to exist on poor innocent Red. In Shio's defense, he has crafted a very solid mental block around what the joke is and thus Also does not understand what it means. And in my own defense, after coming up with two other puppyfied metal band names, how could I resist the horrible joke that would come out of doing the same to Slipknot? (Okay, that's less of a defense and more of an outright admission of guilt.) As for Green's decals and patches, if anyone wants to see the full-size versions of them for whatever reason, let me know, because I put an absurd amount of work into them, and I want a reason beyond my own fragile artist ego to compile them all into a single cohesive image. Also, in regards to the 'VB' on Green's gauges and one of his patches, it stands for 'Video Bois', which is sort of an AU-canon term for their polycule (video cables = RGB = Red, Green, Brown).

Oh, wait, what's that eldritch creature way off in the background, you ask?

...

Don't worry about it. :)

#among us #art #fanart #original characters #only shio is mine lol #crinklytinfoil #NSFA #brown is the supportive dad #green is the cool dad #and red is the sweet dad #they are Excellent Parents and yet - at the same time - Terrible Parents XD #their child is loved and supported and taken care of #their child is also a terrifying force of a space pirate who likes to play Secret Mind Games with their targets #still better than what COULD have happened with shio tho #because i cannot stress this enough #they were a Literal War Criminal in their past life #also i actually did not realize the implicit What The Fuck in the Pupknot joke until i was already halfway done with the logo WHOOPS XD

[udretlnea]

List of AUs in SAGAU (and how I understand them):

Disclaimer: I have plucked this knowledge from my memories and observations; obviously they’re not perfect and the purpose of this is to be a shitpost.

Normal SAGAU

Acolytes: We’ve become aware of our existence as video game characters!

Player: Cool…I think.

Imposter AU

Player: Oh boy I love being reincarnated to Teyvat. I sure hope I’m not labeled as a criminal for impersonating a higher being I have no knowledge of whatsoever!

Venti: Bonjour impersonator! Readies his bow with lethal intent 

Reader: $%*&

Soft AU

Player: …So is everyone here just chill…? Neat. 

Creator AU

Acolytes: It’s you! Our beloved creator! Oh how we’ve missed you!

Player: Say what now.

EDIT: Added in a couple more. Thanks for the information y’all!

Villain AU

Acolytes: We’ve slain the impostor!

Player: Teleports in with the Abyss Order Bet.

Acolytes: Surprised Pikachu face

Yandere AU

Acolytes: Hey there, beautiful~

Player: Haha I’m in danger.

OR

Player: I am okay with this.

#sagau #sagau genshin

[purpleamethystsblog]

🪬I WILL TAKE BACK WHAT'S MINE (Part 6) 🪬

CW : Violence / Swearing / Character dead (not Reader)

Pronounce : She / Her

Gender : Female ( Cause it easy for me to write and I don't really write English fanfics often like other. )

Note : This story might not follow the original game storyline.

Tag : @khalhaimdad @akemiixx01

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<< Part 5 : Part 7 >>

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Venti know.

Mean, he ever seen you before. It's happened when you first come to Mondstadt. He thought you're just a normal traveller.

But it's turn out that you are the most wanted criminal and the leader of Rebellion. He doesn't know why. Because he didn't saw you do anything to harm peoples or Mondstadt.

He want to convince his Creator to stop, but he afraid that Geo Archon will hunt him down like he did with the peoples who didn't accept in our Creator.

Archon of war and the oldest of all sevenths. Mean that he is the strongest Archons.

“ And I should crush you in to a pieces, should I? ”

It has been reported from villagers, that they found a group of rebellion around Guili plain. And Zhongli immediately call him for back up. Most of the rebels group are Vision user. And one of them is a Fatui Harbinger too.

Zhongli is infront of him. And Venti is stand behind ready to charge at rebellion group if Zhongli... No, MORAX give him a signal.

“ Oh~ what a surprise, I thought you all died. Hmmm, what an aura? Are you tried to mimic our Creator? How amusing.... ”

You frowned your eyebrows, what an idiot he can be? You don't know why he such a stupid or too blind to realise real or fake.

“ The ages of your isn't help to develop your brains at all? I'm pity for you, Morax. ”

No, something is wrong. You think Zhongli doesn't a person who had no reason. But it might have something that corrupted his mind or his brains.

Yes, you can say that his action make you frustration. But it might be some reason to make him like this. And you sure 80% of the reason is from that impostor.

Wait....if you remember correctly. If that gods who betrayal to the Creator and got kick out from heaven to human world...

That Impostor has a chance to be their descendants, right?

You think you can piece together some stories. Although still not sure, plus there is no clear evidence yet.

“ Stop zone out! ”

You heard Flowey scream at your ear, you flinched. And turn around to scold at him.

“ Stop playing around! Protect your grace at all cost no matter what! ”

All of your acolytes stop infront you like a human wall. You close your eyes and focus on your power. And after 3 seconds, golden shield is appear on your acolytes who come to front line to protect you.

Your shield might be not strong as Morax's shield. But you sure that it can absorb some damage and decrease a chance of injured for a bit.

Remember, your power is not fully awaken, yet.

🪬

Lilith was afraid.....

She knew, someday, she might lost everything. Even though she tried her best to keep it.

Even though, she cooperate with "ABYSS ORDER". She still afraid.

To take down the "CREATOR GOD" It's not an easy thing that anyone can do.

"Your highness, we have a message that Morax is meet with Y/N."

The abyss mage is appear from thin air, now she stayed in her chamber. And doesn't allow everyone to come in.

She can't let peoples know that she had collaboration with Abyss order.

“ Are you sure that potion will have a long affect on Morax? ”

🪬

It wouldn't be wrong to say that your side is currently at a serious disadvantage. Because peoples on your side is less more than hundreds person. Different from Zhongli, who ever once is a god of war. And there are hundreds of troops as reinforcements as well.

You and Albedo is agreed to retreat, but it need a chance or some unexpected incident first.

[ If you heard me, Flowey. ]

[ Yes, I heard you. Your grace. ]

[ Find a way to delay Morax. We can't fight him! We should retreat ASAP. ]

[ Yes, as your wish! ]

Now, the first creature that you created with your own hands is showing its effectiveness for everyone on the battlefield. You believe in the living flower that you created will save your group from this dangerous situation.

“ You think that your friend little flower can save you? How pathetic! ”

You heard Morax speak contemptuously, but you didn't bother to pay attention to him. You are confident that Flowey is not powerless despite not being skilled enough to win fight. However, Flowey is capable of creating opportunities for you and other members to escape more smoothly.

As Morax was about to attack you, numerous vines suddenly emerged from the ground and intervened, obstructing both Morax and his soldiers, causing them to pause and attempt to destroy the vines.

"Now, this time!!"

You shouted, as Albedo, Diluc, Rosaria, Childe and the other adepts quickly protected the weaker ones and hurriedly led them to escape. You and the men stayed behind to cover their retreat.

Flowey continued to create vines relentlessly, some of which attacked the soldiers to obstruct them, while others wrapped around them to immobilize them. The Pyro Vision user began to launch attacks, as fire was a weakness for a plant like Flowey, and Flowey was well aware of this.

However, Flowey refused to back down, even if it meant being burnt down to ashes. It would do everything in its power to protect its master until the last time of it life.

“ Thanks for creating me, thanks for welcome me to this world. Your grace. ”

“ TIME TO TAKE OFF! ”

While you were retreating, suddenly you felt the scorching heat in the air. You turned around to see flames rising violently like hellfire. The attack with familiar wind strings was reacting with the fire, making you scream out loud with a heart that was almost shattered.

"FLOWEY!!!!"

Albedo also turned around to look back. He was no different from you in being caught off guard. But he saw that this was a good opportunity to retreat. He reluctantly pushed your plan to move forward.

"Don't let its sacrifice be in vain."

He knew that parting was painful. He himself had a bond with that flower, not much different from you, as someone who had taken care of it during the time when it had not yet to survive in this world. Albedo also saw this flower as a child of sorts.

If it can. He wanna help it too. He know that, Flowey was your first creation and you really love it.

But if he jump in to help it. Maybe, the two Archons will kill him immediately, and all your efforts may ruined because of him.

Childe could only mourn its sacrifice in his mind silently.

The important thing now is. He had to inform Fatui about this matter as soon as possible.

🪬

The battle has been going on for a long time, with the Fatui stationed nearby and in Liyue, coming to support your side to ensure your safe escape. And it coincides with the fast arrival of the Fatui's messenger carrying important order from Tsaritsa to Childe, the 11th Harbinger is fully aware of the situation and the current important mission to convince you about going to Snezhnaya.

“ Your grace, can we talk for a moment please? ”

………

“ Is Snezhnaya really welcoming me? ” You asked Childe, furrowing your brows in suspicion. It would be good if that were the case, but you know that the Fatui, known for their cunning and deceitful nature most in Teyvat.

“ How can I be sure that the Archon of your nation isn't just luring me into a trap? ”

You asked earnestly, looking into Childe's eyes for reassurance. The tension was palpable, and he could tell that even the divine creator might not believe in him.

Childe thought for a moment, and a genuine pang of pain struck his chest.

“ If you don't believe my words, I'm willing to swear on my own life. ”

Childe said with a strained voice. He didn't know what else he could do to make you believe. Clearly, his plan to kidnap you had backfired. He surely that if he do, you will hate Fatui and Snezhnaya immediately.

Childe tried his best to persuade you with his words, hoping to sway you in any way possible.

[ FATUI ] is a name that everyone in Teyvat was agrees is an enemy. Few people trust the Fatui, and it's rare for the Fatui will not deceive anyone. It's clear that all of your followers doesn't likes the Fatui, especially the 11th Harbinger. Your decision will have consequences, whether they are good or bad depends on you. And as you're discussing this, you realize that someone has been eavesdropping.

‘ I must make the right decision on this... Whether everyone's lives will be saved or lost depends on my decided... ’

You exhale softly, acknowledging that this decision is incredibly difficult.

“ You know that all my members don't like Fatui, right? ” You ask Childe for sure, want him to aware what he was doing and saying now. Childe nodded, he knew that no one like Fatui and he don't care.

“ And everyone in here is my followers, I want to tell you something, I'm not the kind of person who rules people with a dictatorship. But I will rule the people more democratically. by choosing to listen to the opinions of the majority ”

Childe know immediately what you meant in your words. His expression was obviously gloomy. Because he already knows the result of the answer.

You turn around and walk away, signaling for all of your followers to gather in front of you. You stand on a big rock, crossed arms, on your left side is Albedo and Diluc. And your right side is Childe who is still standing in silence.

“ Is anyone interested to go to Snezhnaya? If we travel to Snezhnaya, we will be protected by the Fatui, and the 11th harbinger will accompany us on this travel. What do you guys think about this? ”

People instantly whispered to each other. As you said, no one trusts Fatui.The expressions on everyone's faces were obviously worried.

“ I think. Maybe, the enemy of our enemy is my friend. Why don't we try to trust them first? ”

Albedo spoke up amidst the chaos and confusion of the members. As soon as he finished speaking, everyone fell silent.

The whispering returned again. You caught a fleeting sense that they were considering possibilities and safety, and it was an oddly reasonable survival strategy.

Childe's expression remained calm, but he could feel a glimmer of hope emerging from the negotiations. It seemed that some people were swayed by Albedo's words, judging from his gaze, some of them were thinking along with Albedo's speech.

However, there were some who did not agree with Albedo's words, and Diluc seemed to be that person. This could be because he had a worst history with the Fatui. And Rosaria, who was not an easily trusting person, just like Diluc himself.

But they don't speak, yet. They are waiting to hear your decision. For them you are their leader now. If it's not a better choice or they didn't see it fit, they will oppose to you, and they believe that you will listen their reasoning.

“ No one can go anywhere... The journey of all of you has come to an end now, especially the one who most dangerous for an eternity like you... Y/N. ”

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<< Part 5 : Part 7 >>

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When this story end? Idk, but I want to write a new one. What would you guys think about Horror!Reader or Creepypasta!Reader.

Sorry, but I like to hurt and Kill characters 😂😂

Maybe I will draft it and public to Tumblr to see y'all reactions. The one that got more notes, I will write ^^

Oh! If you want to be on my tag list, you can tell me on the comment! I will add your blog to my tag list next chapter!✨

Btw, I don't know why but I think Zhongli isn't the people who have no reason. I try to write but, nooooo I can't. I should find something more reasonable to my make sense.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #cult #reader being villainess later #reader is antagonist #reader will being killing spree later #reader will have no mercy later #sagau #sagau impostor au #purpleamethysts