#suffering wrongfully

[scripture-pictures]

[icyfox17]

Me researching murder charges: damn that's so intense, I really hope I'm never accused of murder

[amaranthinespirit]

professor!simon riley ruining his goody-two shoes student cw: teacher-student relationship (all parties are of age) inspired by this post from @ebodebo

you were a good student, an eager to please college attendee that most people couldn't stand. studious and stupidly-smart, studies wise anyway.

most of your teachers liked you. how could they not? you reached the bar in their class, hell, you even raised it. but that couldn't be said about every class you took. you had this one professor who couldn't stand you, and you couldn't either.

professor riley was lazy in your eyes, he didn't give you, the class, enough, whether it was in terms of school work or personality, the daunting man was an enigma, and the epitome of gloom. perhaps he was suppressed with melancholy, but that wasn't your issue to deal with, you just wanted him to give a damn.

but maybe lazy wasn't the right word to label him as because he certainly wasn't, in terms of physique anyway. you shook your head at the thought, disgust crossing your face whenever you caught yourself thinking as such.

he wasn't lazy, professor riley knew his stuff, but you always had to do extra studying outside of his class to even understand the material. it was like you were teaching yourself, and that was not an easy feat.

it also didn't help that when you got one of your exams handed back to you, your eyes were sparked with anticipation as the paper landed on your desk, you couldn't wait to see-

a 69%?

how could this be? you studied meticulously for hours, combing through all the material you were sure was going on the test, but you got a 'd'?

your face was knit with confusion, brows furrowed deeply as you flipped through the pages. every single question marked right, did professor riley suffer from amnesia before grading your test? or rather, when putting the mark on the front page?

you were fuming, glaring up to see that wicked smirk pulling at his lips as your eyes locked. you felt more than petty loathing, more than just not standing him.

it was later, classes are out and no students lingered in the building, but professor riley's office hours remained open, and now you took advantage of it. you grasped your wrongfully marked exam tightly in your fist, creasing the paper under your palm as you stomped into his room.

there he sat, in the dark with only a dim lamp, hunched over his desk grading more papers, wrongfully marking them most likely. he heard the heavy footsteps and the echo that followed you, glancing up at you, a ghost of a smile cursing his lips.

he leaned back in his office chair, the hinges squeaking under his weight as he set down his fancy fountain pen, "evenin', unusual t'see ya durin' m'office hours, what can I do f'ya?" his voice was gruff, heavy with exhaustion and eyes in need of sleep as they trailed over your flushed face.

your body was flushed and radiated heat, chest slightly heaving from the walk over. it didn't help with his gaze on your figure, eyes basically scrutinizing you as you stood in front of his teacher's desk, "sir, i'd like to talk to you about the exam," you spoke through gritted teeth, looking down at him as you swallowed thickly.

you were looking for answers because certainly you found the right ones on your test, but for some reason, he fucked you over. but with the way his eyes seemed to linger, maybe he was looking for more.

though his eyes lit up in realization, a grin breaking out onto his lips as he hummed lowly, looking you over, "ah, yes, was there a specific question y'were lookin' to-"

before he could finish, you slammed the test down onto his desk, the bright red pen that displayed the grade glaring up at him. you acted without thinking, impulsive and brass.

your voice was raised, without a doubt, angry and hostile, "more like the whole damn test, a 68 percent?" you took a deep breath, chest heaving as you cross your arms against it, "i know i did better than a 'd', sir."

he merely scoffed, he couldn't believe the audacity you had to speak to your professor like that. he glanced down at the test before looking back up at you, his eyes betraying no emotion, not a hint of sympathy or kindness behind the amber of his iris, "yeah, y'did." he answered simply.

you looked to him with further confusion, eyes widening ever so slightly, "so why is my grade so low?"

"felt like you needed it." he shrugged it off so casually, it made your blood boil. his audacity to mark your test so low because he felt like it? no, no, felt like you needed it?

you scoffed in disbelief, taking a step towards his desk, "riley-"

he cut you off in correction, "professor. riley." he paused between the two simple words, heavy emphasis. you wouldn't let him see the falter in your expression at his firm correction show how his tone made your stomach twist and thighs clench.

"professor riley," you adhered to his corrections as you took another breath to calm yourself from more than just anger, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. "it's not fair! you can't just give me a bad grade because you feel like it!"

he watched as you raised your hands as you spoke, slapping back down to your thighs as his gaze followed your gestures, lingering at the bare skin of your legs.

you gulped at his heavy gaze, feeling your skin crawl where his eyes seem to linger, goosebumps rising along your even skin. he seemed to notice the way your thighs clenched together, your stiff posture uncomfortable and awkward, fingers flexing at your side.

"but I did, so what do you plan to do about it?" he cocks his head to the side, a silent challenge to you as your eyes narrow. he can't deny that you irk him, such a pretty little thing practically begging for validation, validation he didn't want to give you. he also can't deny the way he fucks his fat cock into his fist, aching and throbbing angrily at the thought of you.

before you can answer his question, he asks another, "d'you touch yer'self thinkin' abo'me, love?" his tone is sly like he's got the upper hand as he leans back casually, elbow propped on his desk.

the question stuns you, renders your english useless as your jaw falls open, looking at him in silence as you can do nothing but stutter hopelessly. though, you can't deny the subtle flutter of your pussy in your lacy underwear, clenching around nothing as slick drools from your slit.

the question grinds the gears in your head, puts you back to the many late nights with your fingers plunging into your drenched cunt, small fingers, imagining they were his lengthy, thick digits, only barely managing to graze that spongy spot deep in your pussy. his name, full of loathe, falling from your lips in a soft mewl as you cum, release coating your skin.

he merely chuckles at your stutters and zoned out gaze, "guess that answers it," his shoulders shake with his huffs of laughs that he disguised as unevens breath, "you're a good student, y'know that? surely, ya do, swee'eart, or ya wouldn't be 'ere."

neither of you speak for a second after his words, letting them hang in the air as it grows thick with tension, tension that's built up since the first day of classes. unbeknownst to each other, you'd been getting off to the idea of one another for weeks, channeling your hatred into self pleasure in a form of denial.

it's weird to finger yourself to the idea of your professor, but he's hot! he's tall, brooding and tatted with a thick accent, not to mention smart. but gross, he's your professor! decades older than you, surely, and not interested in a girl like you, his student, no less.

the tension further mounts, and he decides to speak up when he realizes you aren't going to say anything, still too stunned, "tell ya what, y'can earn yer grade back by givin' me a nice blo'job."

his words are blunt, turning your throat dry, but also making you salivate at the thought, your eyes subconsciously trailing down his button-up shirt down to his slacks. you gulp at the tightness that seems to pull at the material, bulging slightly at the seams.

you don't know what to say. you should say no, and you have no clue why you hadn't yet, why you hadn't turned and ran out the door at such disgusting words leaving your teacher's mouth, but you can't help but feel excited at the thought, oh it's so wrong, but so exhilarating.

still, you can't find the courage to accept the offer, no matter how much you wanted to raise your grade, so you stumble nervously over your words, "sir, I don't know-"

"you're such a goody-two shoes, no?" he asks, eyebrows lifted in confusion. you wouldn't call yourself a goody-two shoes if it was up to you, but you knew that's how others see you, and so does he. "so be a good girl and get on your knees," he finishes, big, veined hands slowly moving to his belt, unclasping it.

the sound fills the empty class, and suddenly your heart's in your throat, and your body's moving on its own. why are you listening to him? do you seriously crave validation so much? from your professor, no less.

"atta'girl," he cooed, gathering your hair in his large hand, wrapping the strands around his palm as he held your head firmly in front of him. he watches your nervous gaze, pretty doe eyes staring up at him with uncertainty. god, you really needed him to guide you, fuelled by guidance and praise. "put yer hands on'me, swee'eart."

your dainty hands slid up onto his knees, fingers drumming against his lower thigh in an anxious outlet. though, despite your uncertainty, you seemed to be guided by adrenaline, going off the hours of teacher-student porn you watched alone in your dorm room when your dorm mate was out.

tracing along the inner seams of his dark trousers, until you reached his crotch. you felt the way he twitched through the fabric at your unsure, naive touch, his bulge tightly straining against his pants.

you felt more confident the more you touched him, especially as his breaths started to get more laboured the higher up you touched and teased him, priding welling up in your chest that only encouraged you further. a sweet smirk on your face as you slowly unzipped his trousers, freeing him from the confines of the tight fabric.

you salivated at the sight, subconsciously biting your lip as you eyed the thick veins that decorated his pretty, pink cock. the sticky pre that coated his boxers, leaking and oozing from his angry tip. he was hard, and hung.

he chuckled breathlessly as the way your throat bobbed, no doubt a nervous gulp traveling down your esophagus as you eyed the size of him. you weren't even sure you could fit your lips around him, much less your weeping pussy that gushed at the sight.

"c'mon, love, 's not a starin' contest, is't?" he joked with a breathy huff, a rough finger caressing your cheek as he eased your gaze away from his engorged cock and back to his honey irises, "tha's betta', baby, keep lookin' a'me with those pre'ty eyes."

your fingers were tentative, sharp fingernails tracing his veins, pupils growing at the sharp inhale he sucked in through his teeth as you studied his cock. he loved your eyes on him, feeding into his ego as if it wasn't big already, gaining silent validation from a girl that fed on academic praise.

and the fact that your fingertips barely met when you wrapped your slender fingers around his thick cock, his self esteem growing exponentially at the sight and blood further rushed down south.

he groaned at your amateur movements, wrist stiff as your smooth palm felt a bit abrasive against his sensitive cock. god, you were so unpracticed and nervous, he just had to guide you, "spit on y'r hand, yeah, good girl," he cooed, his thumb careeming your bottom lip, spreading your saliva across the plush pink.

he couldn't help the satisfied hum at your now slick movements, the way your thumb caught the tip of his angry cock, smearing pre along the spongy head. his head thrown back at the tentative taste you took with your pretty tongue, not missing the small contortion of your features at the salty taste. if he knew he would get you on your knees for him, he would've eaten sweet fruits in advance.

but now he knows for the future, he'll keep his fridge stocked, and maybe slip you a few smoothies to make you that pinch more sweet for when he does get a taste of what's between your thighs.

you were sure you were doing a terrible job, no way any guy would be satisfied with the uneven strokes of your tongue on the underside of his cock, but regardless, professor riley praised endlessly, "yeah, tha'sit, baby," he tugged you closer, causing your lips to wrap around his girth snuggly.

you tried doing what you had seen in porn, but then again, you were too busy imagining the main guy as your professor that now had his cock stuffed in your mouth.

it was embarrassing, downright humiliating because it was so glaringly obvious that you were trying to please him, movements hasty and unnatural as you furthered down on his lengthy dick.

his cock inched further in your mouth, his spongy tip punching the back of your throat all too quickly. it caused tears to brim your eyes and you clenched them shut, sputtering on him as spit pooled from your lips. he pulled you gently back from his dick by your hair, noticing how you'd just frozen up when you couldn't breath with his dick shoved down your throat.

he shushed you, cooing softly as he wiped a wad of saliva that bubbled at your lips, smearing it on your skin as it connected in a string back to him, "know my office 'ours don't last al'night, but surely, 's not'a race, yeah?" he cocks his head to the side, watching your bashful expression as you catch your breath, cheeks flushed and red, "take y'r time, baby, if 's too much, we'll revisit another time, hm?"

you swallow thickly. you didn't want to revisit this another time, you wanted it now. you had fantasized about him for months, even when you convinced yourself you were sick in the head for liking him. since the moment you caught a glance of him, he hadn't left your thoughts, merely convinced it was a behavior that sprung from loathing.

it didn't help that when you first locked eyes, you went back to your dorm and delved your fingers deep in your desperate cunt, clenching around yourself with the thought that they were his fingers instead of your dainty ones.

you just glared up at him indifferently, convinced you could handle it in any semblance of dignity, that you knew what you were doing after all—you didn't, but he didn't need to know. he did though.

he just barked out a harsh laugh, shoulders shaking as he shook his head. it made you want to recoil into a shell, like a hermit, or a turtle, somewhere safer than between his meaty thighs and in front of his meaty cock.

"you're so clueless, swee'eart," he calms down, his chest still rising and falling at an elevated pace, "i know ya'want to raise y'r test score, but bein' sloppy 'bout it isn't gonna help, yeah?" he speaks tauntingly, his tone coaxing and smooth.

he continued, "don't y'think a more thorough job will do the trick?" you hate that he's right. you hate that you have you spend any more time between the sanctuary of his toned legs, dusted with light blonde hairs that grew thicker near the base of his cock, though neatly trimmed, a stark contrast to his dark trousers as it sprouts out from beneath the material.

but he is the professor after all, let him teach you, yeah?

you let out a grumble through your lips, a deep frown remaining on your face as you return to his pretty, swollen cock, tentative licks along the veins as you stare into his eyes. you observe the way his lashes flutter, mumbling with your lips pressed to his sensitive skin, "i'll do it how i want." defiant, causing a rise of infuriated irritation to creep under his skin.

he growls. you just had to be a smartass about it. here he was, being so gentle, patient, and kind as well, for even allowing you to make up those 'lost' points, and all you do is bite back as if you don't want him just as much.

you squeak out as he tugs slightly at your hair, fist tightening in the strands. your eyes widen like a deer in headlights. frozen and doe eyed as you stare up at him, indifferent expression wiped from your face as his throbbing cock presses into your cheek. the warmth from his skin seeps into yours, the hand not in your hair holding the base of his dick, slapping it lightly back onto your face.

"be nice, yeah? i'm being s'generous to let y'make up these points in the firs' place," he gives a gentle nod of his head once, his expression firm and eyebrows raised as he studies you, "don't be a brat, doesn't suit you." with a final slap of his cock to your face, he loosens his grip and lets you go back to ministrations, patience returning now that you're back to the sweet and docile student you were a few minutes ago.

he hums pleasantly as you trace your pretty tongue along his veins once again, his calloused hand rough against your cheek as he smeared the saliva left from slapping his cock against your sweet face, rough enough to move and tug your face in different directions.

you just ignore his touches, lavishing on his cock as you kiss up and down his shaft, taking your time before you even attempt to wrap your lips around him again. either way, he seems to be enjoying the view, the tiny glimpse of your thighs twitching causes his to flex on either side of you.

soon, you have your swollen lips back around the tip of his drooling cock, still oozing gooey globes of pearly pre that tasted salty on your tongue. certainly an acquired taste, that is if you end up back between his meaty, muscular thighs, which you try to convince yourself you wouldn't be. this was a one-off thing, for your grades.

you aren't sure how you look in the moment, but you have a feeling you look a mess, hair frizzy, tousled and tangled around his fist, slurping on his cock with lewd sucks as drool drops to the ground with small splats. god, it really is filthy how ruined you already looked, such an innocent thing reduced to a professor-sucking whore.

his eyes stayed locked on yours, his pupils nearly blown completely as his iris is barely visible, replaced with a black void, or maybe his eyes are just that dark. you couldn't tell with your hazy vision staring back. your ears rang, but you didn't miss the way he sounded more desperate, increasingly vocal as you lavished his throbbing cock, reveling in the way it twitched against your pink tongue.

you only whined as he gently bucked his hips up against your face, cock pistoning to the back of your throat with light gags until you felt thick ropes of warm, creamy cum spill inside your throat, forcing you to swallow the salty substance.

it didn't dawn on you that you just gave your professor a blowjob until you pulled off his cock, positively ruined and lips coated thickly in saliva, now being layered with his spend as he rubs his cockhead against your lower lip. you looked frozen in shock at your actions, subconsciously licking the saltiness from your lips as you peered up at him, stroking himself a few more times for good measure, milking his release before storing his now satisfied cock back into his pants.

he just cradled your face after, pulling a handkerchief from one of his drawers to wipe your face and help you stand, cooing with praise as he did so. once you got back to your two feet, he handed over the cloth for you to tidy your appearance with, not taking notice when you slipped it into your back pocket.

your dainty fingers went to the first button of your cutesy blouse, only for embarrassment to creep up onto your face as you watched him shake his head, tsk'ing with a small huff as he spoke, "sorry, office hours ar'over, swee'eart, come see me t'morrow if ya need s'more clarification on yer grades," he pauses, a cocky smirk on his face as he glances up at you, his head tilted downwards now as he turns back to grading papers, "or if ya wan't'do more t'raise it..."

bastard.

[s-soulwriter]

Dark past ideas

A dark past can be really intresting in books .here are some ideas:

Mysterious Orphanage Escapee: A character who grew up in a sinister orphanage and narrowly escaped its dark secrets.

Traumatic War Survivor: A soldier who witnessed unspeakable horrors on the battlefield, leaving deep emotional scars.

Secret Criminal Past: A reformed criminal who once led a life of violence, but is now trying to make amends.

Kidnapped as a Child: A character who was abducted at a young age and endured years of captivity before escaping.

Tragic Family Betrayal: A character who was betrayed by a close family member, leading to a life filled with distrust and pain.

Cult Escapee: Someone who managed to break free from a dangerous cult, but is haunted by their past involvement.

Haunted by a Violent Crime: A person who accidentally caused harm to someone in their past and has been tormented by guilt ever since.

Dark Addiction: A character who battled a severe addiction that nearly destroyed their life before seeking recovery.

Betrayed by a Friend: A friend who turned out to be a traitor, leading to significant emotional trauma.

Abandoned in Isolation: Someone who was left alone and abandoned in a desolate place, struggling to survive.

Witness to a Murder: A character who saw a murder as a child and was forever scarred by the experience.

Childhood Experimentation: A person who was subjected to unethical scientific experiments in their youth, leaving lasting physical and emotional scars.

Kidnapped and Forced into Crime: A character who was abducted and forced to commit criminal acts against their will.

Betrayed by a Mentor: Someone who was betrayed by a trusted mentor, leading to a deep sense of betrayal and loss.

Survived Natural Disaster: A survivor of a catastrophic natural disaster who lost everything they held dear.

Abusive Relationship Escapee: A person who managed to escape an abusive relationship, but continues to struggle with the trauma.

Witness to a Dark Ritual: A character who stumbled upon a sinister occult ritual in their past, leaving them haunted by the experience.

Family Curse: A character burdened by a dark family curse that has brought suffering to generations.

Identity Theft and Framing: A person who had their identity stolen and was wrongfully accused of crimes they didn't commit.

[devils-little-sistaaa]

In the last Olympian Percy’s says there were 40 demigods that went fighting into battle of manhattan and later on the ares cabin joined so they weren’t even counted in that 40.

And in the end of the book Percy’s says there were only about “20 odd” demigods that survived and made it back to camp.

Roughly half of the whole entire camp perished in battle of manhattan.

And I’ve done the math and figured out who all the veteran characters are. Most of these are all characters mentioned both before and after the battle of manhattan and some of them were introduced in HoO but said to have been at camp since the titan war. These are the only known true survivors of BoM and it adds up to about 20. This is all of them. None of them are unknown. Do with this what you will

All of the battle of manhattan veterans in order of their cabin numbers :

Percy Jackson

Katie Gardiner

Miranda Gardener

Clarrise La Rue

Sherman Yang

Ellis Wakefield

Annabeth Chase

Malcolm Pace

Will Solace

Austin Lake

Kayla Knowles

Jake Mason

Nyssa Barrera

Harley

Drew Tanaka

Lacy

Mitchel

Chris Rodriguez

Travis Stoll

Connor Stoll

Pollux

Nico di Angelo

Butch Walker

Holly Victor

Laurel Victor

Can you imagine them all going back to camp together in only of those Delphi strawberry busses when they came in four busses. All of them together in a tiny bus grieving their lost siblings together.

Percy Annabeth And Nico went on a wild goose chase after Rachel who had just highjacked Black Jack and that’s how they got back to camp they weren’t on the bus.

Malcolm was all alone and might have believed Annabeth died out there in the streets somewhere or in the Empire State Building. (He’s elated to find her alive at camp later. But god that was a scary couple of hours on the bus thinking he’s all alone now)

Malcolm sits with Butch and Pollux because they’re the only other campers on the bus without siblings. Butch just because he happens to be the only known iris kid at camp and Pollux because he lost Castor in battle of the labyrinth.

All the others sit with their siblings. Or what’s left of them. Entire large cabins that used to have 10-20 kids on average now reduced down to 1-3 kids. Some died. Some joined Luke and probably died soon after.

Edit : And since I’ve seen some Titan army hate in these comments for no reason here’s something else I should have said.

If they joined Luke but somehow survived they were probably wrongfully murdered by the gods for rebelling or brutally punished somehow like Alabaster Torrington. So many titan army kids perished too. Don’t forget them. They fought for a noble cause. They didn’t die for nothing. They were just kids with dreams of making things less shitty for everyone. They suffered just as much if not more than the camp halfblood kids all at the hands of the gods and the titans and even other demigods that were higher up on the Olympus hierarchy. Nico, Ethan, any kid who’s not a child of the big 12 were not treated as equals at camp back then just because of their parentage or lack of powers or unique or scary powers. A lot of titan army kids were from minor gods who suffered because of the big 12 and their children. Camp halfblood wasn’t so nice to them in fact pretty cruel and rude and mean just because of that stupid hierarchy. Of course they felt hurt and fell into Kronos’s trap of trying to make things better. Of course Luke being their counselor at camp cause Hermes takes in all the minor god kids saw all them suffering and tried his best to help. Of course Luke fell into Krnos’s trap as well. and I refuse to tolerate any hate or misunderstanding of them.

[twosashi]

hi all! this is wendy @musashi. my tumblr blog was wrongfully terminated, i presume because i recently made a popular post that vaguely mentioned loving trans women and got sacked by the t/e//r////f mob's mass reporting campaign.

the official reason tumblr banned me was for "hoarding urls" which i very much did not do. i just had a lot of sideblogs, almost all of them active at some point or another. now no one can use those URLs because they are tied to a terminated account. if tumblr needed me to release some of the less active ones, i gladly would've.

it appears as though i was mass reported and tumblr just tried to find a reason to nix me because the ter//ve///s were clogging their pipes and i'm the easier answer to the trolley problem at their HQ.

many of these sideblogs are now gone, and i will be working to get them back up in time if i cannot get my account back.

i am putting on a brave face but i am fucking heartbroken. 14 years of my life were on that blog. that is literally half of my life on earth. countless pieces of art, memories, and snapshots of my adolescence and young adulthood just, like, gone. when i suffered from severe traumatic amnesia in 2016, it was that tumblr blog that helped me recall a TON of my life experiences & who i was. that blog literally saved my life.

with it i lose countless memories and almost 10k followers, as well as a community that i spent a very long time building up. tons of friends whos usernames i did not get, and anons who were never able to give them to me.

please share my story! my name is wendy. my old url was musashi. i liked ace attorney. i liked pokemon. i made youtube videos where i talked autistically about my faves. i liked to write, and make people laugh. i loved it here and i am sad tumblr has chosen to side with the mob instead of listening to that story. i have been here since 2010, and my blog and community meant so much to me.

please reblog this post. i am working hard to get my account back, but if i cannot, i want to find my friends and followers again.

[pruneunfair]

Tropes in manhwa are awful yet people still defend them

I'm in a bad mood right now so what better way to release all that pent up anger by ranting on what can ruin a good story.

1: Slavery being inserted only for cheap plot and slaves being demonized as obsessive/greedy monsters for "not knowing their place"

Theres nothing wrong with wanting to insert slavery in your story AS LONG as it's not just cheap plot to make your MC look "better" by buying from a single to all of the slaves because let me tell you this: there is no such thing as a good slave owner, you cannot morally own another human being. A lot of manhwa like to have slavery be a part of their plot completely ignoring that just because the MC goes "wow this is terrible" doesn't make them a good person after they buy a slave.

Remarried empress does this with its villian Rashta by pushing the notion that she's being greedy for not wanting to stay in poverty so Navier won't suffer because apparently a slave wanting what the silver spoon mouthed nobles were born into is so terrible not to mention they justify slave owners and slavery in general as a punishment for criminals (neglecting the fact that children can be sold by their parents)

The villainess has fun again justifies a child slave being bought by the lead and he becomes an obsessive shouta love interest, fans continously justify by using the ancient lolicon excuse "he may look young but he's actually 99182823 years old!"

In divorcing my tyrant husband, Robelia buys 30 slaves and the only 2 that consistently show up have no other personality other then "we love you FL we will worship you till the end of time!"

There's a damn manhwa out there literally called the order of slave breeding and even when a story tries to do this correctly such as VADTD with Penelope being portrayed as a bad person for what she did to Eckles, fans have been so deluded by the idea that FL's buying slaves is "girlboss" that they think Eckles should be grateful to be Penelopes "pet"

2: ML's murdering innocent people after one guy hurts the FL

I already made a specific post about it before and I'll say it again: all this does is make your male lead/father figure look like a horrific monster. While you could say it's because its a medieval kingdom (objectively that is true that they would do this) manhwa and OI is the same place where despite in those times taking a mistress was considered normal they still view it as cheating and "how could you pick that slut when you have such a perfect wife!? 🤬" in most stories. So yes, modern morality is still inserted within these tropes. While I can get it's a way to show that the man in questions loves the FL so much he's willing to go to such lengths to protect her I think just mutilating the guy that actually did the sin would be enough because try imagining yourself as a faithful servant who was amazing at your job getting brutally slaughtered by the Emperor because your boss attacked his daughter or lover.

Into the light once again does this with Aishas dad murdering all the relatives and close friends of a count that tried to kill Ysis and Aisha, Aisha doesn't seem to care despite being in a situation where she was wrongfully executed in her past life.

Remarried empress does this too. After Navier is nearly killed by Krista's brother, Heinrey tortures and kills the dad and slaughters the servants of the zemensias. I can't remember if he also murdered the remaining family members but I wouldn't put it past him.

3: protagonist centered morality

Protagonist centered morality is the biggest indicator that a piece of media is dealing with a mary sue FL. Whatever the protagonist says is right is immediately morally correct. This is actually used to justify the last 2 examples with "it was for the FL!" Things like slavery, murder, workplace abuse, union busting, pedophilia, and being a POS to your loved ones are all justified if the protagonist finds a cheap way to justify it and you HAVE to agree with her because her backstory is very tragic 🥺. Protagonist centered morality also ruins the chance for good characters since the FL herself never has to grow as a person so she stays the same exact thing as she was just with more enablers and random characters will be treated as villains even if they aren't actually wrong about being suspicious of the Protagonist or calling out her behavior. It twists the narrative in such incomprehensible ways that you don't even know what your reading anymore. I can't even list all of the manhwas that do this given how many there actually are so I'll just list some that are at least self aware there Protagonist is awful/morally grey or isn't even a bad person but they still have flaws that can be pointed out

Villains are destined to die

My in laws are obsessed with me

Not sew wicked step mom

Depths of malice

The villainess turns the hourglass

Beware of the villainess.

4: villains being dumbed down to make the lead look smarter

This is unfortunately another common staple often used as a quick way to make the FL look smart and witty but is that really hard to look smarter when everyone else around you is an idiot? Not only does the FL not have to put in actual effort to best her enemies but you just start to pity the villain for basically being a punching bag. Dimwitted villains aren't always bad in fact they can be some of those most entertaining characters no matter much they lose but that only works when they are meant to be seen as a goofy character that your not supposed to take seriously. Villains that are written as extremely childish and stupid but your still supposed to treat them as serious antagonists on the other hand are just annoying since you wonder how the protagonist even got killed by them in the first life if they're so stupid.

Isabella de Mare while admitly having a good reason for being dumbed down (she's a teenager in the 2nd life so it's reasonable she wouldnt be as smart as her adult counterpart) is still a joke of a villainess who keeps flipping back and fourth from a snot nosed whiny brat to a mastermind only at convenient opportunities when the plot needs conflict.

Mielle from the villainess turns the hourglass was first portrayed as extremely conniving as she arranged for Arias downfall in the shadows but in the second life she fails at every scheme she has even though she has Emma and Isis to help her out.

Ragibach is a literal demon possessing the body of another woman with the goal of setting demons loose on the word to start another human vs demon war and she succeeded in that the first time, the devastation was all there so clearly she has to be a formidable antagonist right? Well no, she's another case of being dumbed down further and further so Keira can succeed and while they do understand some plot holes such as Ludwig not trusting her as much in the second life it doesn't change the drastic character change from evil genius to bumbling idiot.

In short: dumbing down your villains so your lead can look smarter is essentially going to give the equivalent of a hydrogen bomb vs a coughing baby.

5: feminine women being demonized as basic "other girls" sluts

Okay this one isn't nearly as terrible as the others on this list because we all love the good old "a demon makes itself look beautiful to deceive humans" kind of villain, in fact as you probably know by me by now, white lotuses are my favorite kinds of character and even in media outside of manhwa I always find myself drawn to angelic villains but it seems like this is less of that and more of "Oh those are all the other girls who just want a man to save them, look at how much better my badass rich boss babe is for working for herself while taking all of their men at the time 😎" in manhwa. As soon as a traditionally feminine girl shows up, comments are already calling her a two faced bitch and half the time protagonist is already skeptical of her. This is the opposite of what being a feminist really is, a real feminist wouldn't be putting down other women just because they dress with more pink with bows and skirts and while I do think for most manhwa this is unintentional I do wish that we could have more characters like Psyche, Helena, Athy, and Jennette that prove that being overly feminine doesn't make you a backpedal on feminism. This doesn't make the badass or sexy fl's bad either, it just means they can co-exist.

An angelic villain should be treated as evil for being a well calculated schemer, not because they have a light colored color scheme

6: toxic relationships being romanticized as good

You know for a large community that claims to be about girl code a good chunk sure likes to look the other way when it comes to toxic relationships as long as the abuser is "hot" and theres always the terrible excuse such as "he has trauma!" Or "he doesn't know how to show his love normally!" No just no we aren't doing that here. Cry or better yet beg has this problem with not only the narrative claiming that Matthias graping Layla is okay because she actually loves him and doesn't know it but a large part of the fanbase also defends it, the same goes with try begging, a manhwa written by Solche who also wrote cry or better yet beg and once again despite Leon being an abuser everyone's ready to justify his actions because he's just a soft little boy who ends up falling in love with Grace awww 😍 (what the hell?) Everyones all about not justifying abusers because they had a sad past until it's the "sexy" male leads with daddy issues.

7: maid slapping

This shit isn't asserting your dominance as a boss bitch it's just work place abuse. This trope has gotten so out of hand of being justified by narratives and readers that there is an entire webtoon called this isekai maid is forming a union that's all about criticizing twisted manhwa tropes that get brushed off with maid absuer being at the biggest one. It's funny because a lot of people complain that Isekai maid union villainizes the nobles too much but they never ask the same questions when a OI is demonizing maids as greedy and lazy in order to deserve a beating. This doesn't just stop at hands either it can escalate to threats of mutilation just to assert dominice which is absolutely sick. Most of the time these leads used to be office workers or terminally ill patients, they know how terrible it is to be treated like garbage by their superiors yet they continue to absue every maid who isn't getting on their knees for them. Most maids in real history would not mistreat a noble even if they were the most hated in the house and even if they did they'd be fired without a letter of recommendation so why can't the FL's just fire the rude maid if they care about dignity so much because I'm pretty sure getting violent with a maid isn't very dignified either.

8: disgusting age gaps

Very similar to #6 but in this case while the ML/FL isn't a cruel monster to their partner it doesn't change the fact that grooming and pedophilia is still a crime worthy of life in prison. You'd think "oh no way, this can't be justified can it?" You'd be wrong. Now I belong to house of Castillo thankfully has a larger fanbase of people who think that a relationship between a girl who got groomed by her knight is bad but in cases like into the light once again a lot of people like to say "Well Aisha is technically 28 so it's fine!" When it really isn't since Aisha is still mentally 14. Taming my ex husbands mad dog is another one that does this with Reinhardt grooming a 16 year old boy and its apparently meant to be "cute".

9: claiming a character as unattractive yet giving them a perfect body and appreance

I just think this is a major cop-out since there's time where they want to make a realistic story yet also wanting a fantasy fufilment. I don't think its a coincidence that the only woman in tears of a withered flower that yout supposed to support is a Victoria's secret model body type. Even though she's meant to be an overworked exhausted 33 year old woman being mocked for losing her beauty she sure as hell isn't drawn that way, the only other women around hae soo are all women with smaller boob's and in general more common body types that are either classed as stupid or jealous that Hae soo is so beautiful that all the attractive men want her

how about we don't pit all the women against each other for once? And let's especially not villainize other women because their jealous they could never be have large boob's and tiny arms+waist at the same time?

10: the commoner protagonist actually being a noble rich person all along

Look I know most of us had loved those "the hated child is the lost princess" GLMM but we need to drop it because it's kinda disappointing that the nobody who had to work their way to the top is actually a secret magical princess who had royal blood in them all along. While I did think the villainess turns the hourglass was a pretty decent read I was super disappointed finding out that Aria was of noble descent all along. I liked seeing a commoner protagonist for once and it really felt like it was critiquing the idea that all commoners and poor people who want nice things like the nobility are greedy animals. Something similar can also happen with certain saintess manhwas that decide to twist itself into "the villainess was the true saintess all along!" And I'm just sitting here thinking "well there goes the hope that you didn't need the super duper rare power to be a strong character"

I feel way better now after writing all this.

[polysucks]

I think a lot about the stark children. I think a lot about when arya told us how when she was little and bran was a baby robb led them and sansa into the crypts of winterfell and jon dressed up like a ghost and sansa ran crying and bran cried and arya scolded the two boys for making the baby cry and jon and robb laughing and my heart fuckin breaks.

They were children.

robb cried in his mother’s arms when he approached her for advice on how to militarize his troops—the vast legions of the north he inherited only days before when his father was wrongfully and publicly executed. He felt pressured to act, despite how little he knew about what could be done. He was sixteen.

sansa told jeyne she was silly for crying, but cried when she begged for mercy for her father, begged for cersei to allow her to marry vicious predator joffrey. deep down she knew it was the safest choice for her. She was twelve.

arya watched the life leave a stable boy’s eyes, not much older than her, as he begged her to remove needle from his chest. She watched him die by her hands. He haunted her escape. She saw him out of the corners of her eyes and she was terrified of him. She killed him because she had no choice. She was nine.

jon had tears in his eyes with violent rage, launching himself over rows of tables and furniture when he attacked alistair for insulting the memory of eddard, the only father he ever knew. He brandished a dagger and wielded insults with the fury of a thousand wildlings, ready to instantly make alistair suffer a cruel death by his own hands as his black brothers struggled to hold him back. He was sixteen.

Remember that they are children.

How would you have felt if you were their ages, and this had happened to you.

[ooooo-mcyt]

Scar has SUCH a victim complex and we really should talk about it more.

In an average Scar pov of the Life Series, two things are basically guaranteed:

a.) Scar never does anything wrong. Any perceived wrongdoing on Scar's part is simply him being silly and goofy which people keep blowing it out of proportion. Or he really didn't mean to do anything wrong and people are just so paranoid and keep misinterpreting his good intentioned actions. Or he did something bad but it wasn't his idea and some outside force made him and it wasn't that big a deal anyways when you think about it.

b.) Everyone's out to get Scar. People wrongfully don't trust him because they're just blind to his inherent trustworthiness. People are always shooting down his brilliant plans because they hate fun or are just mean. People take advantage of him when he's never done anything wrong to them (if you think he has done anything wrong, see point a). People betray him so much, him, the silliest funnest most trustworthy teammate who only wants friendship.

Now, a lot of this is tactical on Scar's part, to give credit where credit is due! Scar is in fact very intelligent, and most of the time he knows what he's doing! A lot of time Scar plays innocent and dumb because playing innocent and dumb keeps working to get him what he wants and to keep him out of trouble. People buy into the facade with shocking ease. And the really clever thing is that even when people don't buy into the facade, there's no argument. Because it doesn't matter if Scar is as dumb and innocent as he pretends to be (he's not), people can't prove he doesn't believe what he says, so they don't waste energy arguing, and he gets away with a shocking amount because of it. Scar is incredible at playing with tactical facades and twisted narratives. So yes, a lot of Scar's "victim complex" is tactic, not necessarily a genuinely held belief on Scar's end.

That being said, I think sometimes Scar gets so caught up in his own false narratives that he starts to believe them, and I think Scar can be painfully, and ironically, blind to his own faults. When he says he felt abandoned and betrayed by everyone in Last Life, I believe he meant it, though I'd argue he actively pushed people away and was the reason nobody trusted him. When he says he treated Grian right and "built him a panda sanctuary" in Double Life, I think Scar actually means that, though it's factually incorrect. When he says he was "forced" to be alone in Secret Life, I'm sure he meant that too, though again I'd argue Scar had a very active role in self isolating.

While I think Scar is a very intelligent person who very much purposefully crafts narratives that benefit him, I also think Scar is a person who likes to live in those narratives, someone who uses his boundless imagination to integrate himself into the realities he builds so seamlessly that they start to feel real. I think this is a very efficient coping mechanism, in a lot of ways, for Scar to blame any genuine suffering he has entirely on outside persecution and minimize his own responsibility. It's comforting, if nothing else.

But this self imposed hand crafted victim complex doesn't actually help with the ways Scar really struggles the most. Scar consistently struggles with isolation, whether through literal distance from other players or simply emotional inability to connect. And unfortunately, most of it is a result of Scar's own behavior. Scar lies, Scar cheats, Scar pushes people away. Scar is the reason nobody trusts him. Scar is the one who consistently refuses to seek out companionship even when he needs it. This is an agonizingly fixable problem, but it's one Scar cannot see the solution to, because ironically his own cunning and creative mind has spun a web so thick it's trapped him inside, and he can't see past it to realize he has the way out!

Anyways sorry for rambling I'm just insane about Scar, he has such a brilliant mind and the tongue to back it up but his fatal flaw has always been in how his creative mind loses itself in its own false narratives until he cannot see the exit door five feet in front of him. He's sooooooooooooo !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sunlit-arrow]

the blood that pours from your scars don’t go unnoticed, my kin, for the Great Ares watches over us and I can feel His rage every time we suffer. Don’t be scared of Him, for He is not an enemy, He is a fierce protector. And when He sees it fit, His judgment will fall upon those who wrongfully mistook us for an easy prey.

Hold tightly to the shield, my friend, and He will be your sword.

[pupuseriazag]

Hey just a small reminder that saying "we should send elon to el salvador!" "we should send this other group to el salvador!" ITS NOT the view NEITHER of you gringos should have about this whole thing.

Because guess what? Before trump made the deal with bukele, we salvadoreans have been suffering this regime for THREE. FUCKING. YEARS. Women have been incarcerated for not accepting the advances of a cop, young people being arrested bc a neighborgh falsely accused them of belonging to a gang, community leaders who are fighting for their land have been arrested and placed with false war crimes from the civil war.

So any time I see any of yall say that "oh we should instead send XY and Z to El Salvador!" I see you minimizing this problem and, again, treating my people as not important. Hell I dont see any of you talk about how this is also GENOCIDE TO US SALVADOREANS.

I'm glad a lot of you care for the inmigrants being wrongfully detained and sent here, but I fucking despise how you all ignore my people and willfully ignore how this is much bigger than just your government capturing innocents and how once they get back its done and everything's nice again.

[grecoromanyaoi]

i mean this question to understand, not to offend

when you put “antizionist” in your bio, do you mean you don’t support the establishment of the State of Israel that which provided the jewish people sanctuary and safety from persecution? where they can be jewish without fear of being attacked or wrongfully persecuted anywhere else on the world?

i ask this because i’m deeply interested in Israel, Judaism and the language itself.

please don’t be offended ><;

ok so i promised ill b nice to any well meaning ppl, n the short answer is - more oppression isnt the solution to anything. the way to make jewish people safe is not by hurting other groups. the way to end antisemitism is not by more murder, displacement and oppression. and even if that did make jewish peoples lives "safer" - i dont think oppression should be a solution to anything. its not "worth" it, since jews arent more important than palestinians, n the safety n lives of jews arent more important than the safety n lives of palestinians. i think that every person who advocates for murder, displacement n oppression as a solution to any problem is incredibly dangerous n should not b given any type of platform.

n even if i was willing to entertain the idea that jewish lives r more important than palestinian lives (which im not), how r jewish ppl safer, much less "safe" at all, in israel? safe from religion based prosecution (which is. not entirely true as different forms n religious ethnicities in judaism do in fact suffer religion based prosecution, often combined w racism/xenophobia. the way ethiopian jews or post-soviet jews r treated by the state n the larger jewish community r v clear ones) definitely does not mean "safe", n not even "safer" than jews in the diaspora. i esp dont get how u can make that claim in 2025. is one safe when rockets r constantly fired at their city? is one safe when their government makes it consistently clear that theyre v willing to sacrifice them n everyone they love for their genocidal, messianic dream? when said government has led to many many hundreds of ppl being slaughtered, n abandoning many civilianw in captivity for over 500 days? when every time they leave their country theyre in danger of being attacked? when their siblings in the diaspora r constantly targeted bc of the actions of a country theyre not from? when every person at the v least has a friend or a family member who lost someone v close to them bc of the actions n consequences of their country, the country that supposedly protects them? my grandma was born in jerusalem in 1935 n died in jerusalem in 2023. she lived thru 10 wars. i dont know how many jews in the diaspora, esp in the global north, can say the same. i dont think thats "safe".

[yandere-daydreams]

It’s been confirmed by Mavuika that archons can extend people’s lives! So just imagine an archon extending their unwilling partners life. Likeee 😂

no because i saw that and my literal First Thought was 'okay how can i turn this into a fic'. ever since, i've been haunted by visions of one of the archons currently living as a human (most likely zhongli, but mayhaps venti if he's feeling silly enough) making their darling immortal despite never actually having spoken to them, only admiring you from a charitable distance. you aren't warned, aren't informed, aren't given any clue as to what's happening or who's doing it - all you know is that one day, you simply failed to grow older, and you haven't had much luck since. time marches forward, the people around you age and die, but you're trapped in amber - unchanging save for the lengths you take to differentiate yourself from what you once were. you've looked for cures, seen doctors, considered taking matters into your own hands, but you don't crave a violent death. you only want what you've been wrongfully denied.

you're scared and confused and trapped, and as far as you can tell, there's only one other person who shares your affliction - a familiar face you'll sometimes catch in your peripheral, never too distance but never too close, either. they've taken on different names as the decades slip by, but their appearance never changes, not really, and on the rare occasion that you actually speak with them, they seem just as lost in time as you are, reciting events from hundreds of years ago with the confidence and the affection of a witness, rather than a historian. you don't care for them, no more than you would any other stranger, nor would you grow more fond of them if they really did have something to do with your paralysis, but...

but, you really don't have anyone else, anymore. not really. not in any way that brings you comfort.

it's either find solace in the only other person who shares your suffering, or face eternity alone.

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Chapter II : Guilty as Sin

“If long-suffering propriety is what the want from me—

They don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly.”

series masterlist Chapter I

pairing: post prison/ cm:evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.)

summary: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

genre: slow-burn romance, hurt/comfort, fluffy angsty

cw: age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is 24), a couple y/n's (I'm sorry, I know I'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, hurt/comfort, harsh words and gossip about reader and Spence; info-dumping Spencer; pet names (angel) possibly eventual smut in later parts, female reader she/her pronouns, bad writing! lemme know if I missed anything and as always, lemme know what you think!

note: still third person pov, but this one is more from the readers perspective. Thinking maybe I’ll go back and forth between chapters if you see a quote in purple it’s readers perspective, if the quote is green it’ll be Spencer’s 🩵

wordcount: 2.1k

Of course, Penelope did not disappoint, popping a tiny confetti popper at the newlyweds as they made their way out of the conference room and into the bullpen, which felt like an awkward makeshift reception. The rest of the team offered playful congratulations, with Alvez going so far as to wolf-whistle and point out the way the couple's linked hands which in turn earned him a swift knock on the back of the head courtesy of Tara. It felt safe and joyous. Y/N tried to smile, hesitantly dropping Spencer’s hand as she collected her things, the anxiety of being away from these people, from her home and normal life, just starting to settle into her chest.

The flight to Seattle was long. Though Y/N had traveled by jet multiple times, it had never felt so massive as she and Spencer sat at the small table combing through the case file in comfortable silence. So far, three couples had been found dead in their quiet Seattle homes. Of the couples, two of the men had been professors at different colleges in the area while the third was the head of a non-profit organization. The women, were all nearly twenty years young and had worked for their husbands in some way before being married. At each crime scene, the unsub left a calling card of sorts. A feather in the hands of the woman and a beautifully written poetic line alluding to the dangers of an “unruly” woman in the hand of the man.

“These cards are beautiful,” Y/N mused, turning the evidence bag with the delicate stationery over in her hands. “Each line is poetic in nature but not quite right. See, ‘Wise men once said Wild winds are death to the candle’? And these feathers?”

“I don’t think any of these are actual published poems, more like plays at various poets' works. But the feather, by the look of it, it looks like it’s possibly from an albatross. They’re seabirds with wingspans that can reach up to nearly ten feet. There are several poems regarding that particular bird. The first one that comes to mind is Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s ‘The Rime of Ancient Mariner,’ in which an albatross is wrongfully shot down because a mariner thought it to be a bad omen. In older mythologies, the albatross was seen as good luck, bringing wind to sailors. In the poem, the mariner is forced to wear the lifeless albatross around his neck in place of the traditional cross.” There’s an excitement in Spencer that y/n hasn’t seen before, the way his eyes light up and his hand flail almost wildly. It’s endearing— cute she would almost say.

“It’s not a super common metaphor, but the albatross is also often used in association with guilt or shame,” Spencer continued, sitting back in his chair, eyes looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him. “Some authors use it to symbolize a curse…sorry.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head, his curls hanging gently around his face as he dropped his gaze back down to the file on the table.

“No-no, don’t apologize. That was all incredibly fascinating. I knew you are wildly academic, but why exactly do you know all of that about some random bird I’ve never even heard of?” Y/N's tone wasn’t teasing or harsh; it was full of genuine sincerity and curiosity, which took Spencer completely by surprise.

“My mentor… when I started at the BAU, he had a thing with birds,” Spencer chuckled, offering a small shrug as his gaze came back to meet hers. “I guess I just really wanted to impress him.” The jet fell back into a comfortable silence, except for the rustling papers, for another hour until Y/N decided she’d had enough and retreated to the small couch to rest her eyes for a bit.

The drive from the airport to the university was quick. The house they’d been assigned was cute, small, quaint, but certainly big enough for a professor and their spouse to be comfortable. There was an office for Spencer, a decently sized kitchen, and a living room that opened up to a sweet little patio. Truly, there should’ve been no complaints. As Y/N entered the bedroom, she frowned, her go-bag in hand as she shuffled around the nicely sized room, sizing up the singular king-sized bed. A knock at the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts.

Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes falling between the bed and the woman in front of him before nodding. “Don’t worry, you can take the master if you’d like. The office has a pullout, and I really don’t mind.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can sleep here—we can...” her voice going up an octave as she tried and failed to play it cool. “It’s not a big deal, Spencer. We’re both adults.” She shrugged, tossing her bag onto the bed and turning to sit at its foot, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Spencer read her like a book, seeing the young woman in front of him in the midst of a battle with herself, her pride and anxiety both fighting for control, though he knew she’d likely never admit that.

“Really, I’m okay. Thank you, though. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and a little wave before retreating down the hall.

For the next week or so, the duo did their best to make the space feel like a home. What it lacked in size, it surely made up for it in atmosphere. For a state that had a nasty rap for rain and gloom, it was surprisingly peaceful. There hadn’t been any rain yet, and the summer sun stayed up well into the night. There were moments where Y/N caught herself thinking that had it not been for work, this would be a really nice life.

When the semester started, they fell into a comfortable routine. During the day, Y/N carried the full course load of a grad student, while Spencer spent most of his time tucked away in his on-campus office, prepping lectures and reviewing assignments. At night, the real work would begin as they’d sit at their quaint little dining table with a pot of coffee or take-out containers and go over any developments in the case that the team had found back in DC. In the two weeks they’d been in Seattle, the body count thankfully hadn’t gone up.

As the weeks went on, the rumblings of the new “hot” behavioral psychology professor spread like wildfire. Those rumors were quickly followed by the fact that he was not only married, but his wife was a student. It didn't take long for people to begin connecting the dots. With every professor calling out her name and immediately sizing her up, the other students caught on fast. Of course, after that, y/n became hyper aware the way almost everyone looked at her and the whispers from professors and students alike that she was “the girl,” the reason Doctor Reid had to move out west. She’d expected it from the students; it was incredible gossip that she herself would’ve eaten up back in her first round of university. What she hadn’t expected were the comments made by her partner's new colleagues, whispers usually a little too loud as she’d make her way into a room.

“She really should be ashamed of herself. You know, I heard he only married her to minimize the scandal. I bet he’s miserable.”

On a normal day, the comment would’ve rolled right off her back, she’d file it away with the rest of the case's details. Maybe she was overtired just exhausted from the workload of simultaneously playing a grad student and an FBI agent, but today, she let the words seep beneath her skin, poisoning her mind. She hadn’t stayed for the class, instead turning on her heels, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks as she made her way back to the house. She felt absolutely ridiculous, letting her emotions consume her this way. The words weren’t true, nothing about her current life or situation was true, so why did it hurt so much hearing that people thought Spencer was miserable beside her?

Am I allowed to cry?

When she entered the house, she crumbled against the door, the tears freely flowing as she allowed herself to fall apart in the privacy of the home that was supposed to be empty.

“Y/N?” Spencer called, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors as he made his way down the hall. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” He froze at the end of the hall, taking in the crumpled form of his pseudo-wife. “W-what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The words came rushing out as he sunk to his knees in front of her, his hands hesitantly reaching out to cup her cheeks, his thumb trying to brush the tears away as quickly as they fell.

“I-I’m fine... You-you weren’t supposed to see this,” she sniffed, trying to pull away, to hide her face in her sweater, but Spencer wouldn’t let that happen. His hand staying planted firmly on her cheek, keeping her in place. “You’re supposed to be in your office...” she said, practically whimpering as another round of tears betrayed her.

“I came home to grab a book and a bite to eat... angel, what’s going on?”

“It’s silly—no, it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t even care, and none of this is real, and I—I...” She caught herself, her breaths coming short and quick, but Spencer didn’t move. He sat, patiently waiting for her to continue. “I know that it’s a story, that I am not really your wife, that you were never really my professor, and that six months ago you didn’t even know who I was.” Finally, she took a deep breath, her hand slowly taking his from her cheek and holding it in both of hers in her lap. “But it’s so awful, Spence... I’m just so tired of hearing how I’ve ruined your life, that I’m using you, that...” The last words caught in her throat as another silent sob racked through her body. “...that you’re miserable.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Do I look miserable? No, I don’t think I do and if I do, I sincerely apologize, I think it just may be my resting face.” his voice dripped the kind of sincerity that made Y/N’s heart flutter, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lip. “You’ve got a good face Spencer, not too miserable…”

Spencer chuckled, taking the compliment with a little nod, as he offered her hand a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, you’re going through this seemingly alone, and if it would make you feel any better I can have a conversation with the other professors… and though I’ve never been in your exact position, I do remember what it was like to constantly be torn down by everyone around you. You’re allowed to cry, angel, allowed to feel all of the things you’re currently feeling. And while I might only be your temporary husband, I did sign that paper, and I do promise to take care of you and make you smile and protect you from every awful thing I can’t control outside that door. Okay?”

She nodded, her gaze falling to their joined hands in her lap as the last of her tears stained her now rosy cheeks.

“I’m going to need a verbal response, angel.” His tone shifted; it wasn’t quite as delicate or gentle as his previous vows had been, but it was just stern enough to draw her gaze back up to his.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

“Y-yes. Okay.” With another nod, she took her hand from his, dragging it down her dampened cheeks. “I’m sorry about all this.” She offered him a small smile and a shrug. “I swear I’m not usually like this—”

“Stop it. There is nothing to be sorry about.” He rose to his feet, his hand immediately reaching out to help his partner up. “Now come on, I’ve got classes to cancel, and we’ve gotta get you cleaned up. I think we deserve to take the rest of the day off.”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you—are you proposing we play hooky this afternoon?” Y/N clutched her metaphorical pearls, mock shock consuming her features. Spencer rolled his eyes, a genuine chuckle passing his lips as he shook his head.

“What can I say, we’ve been here—what, going on three weeks? I think we deserve to see the sights. And besides, how else am I gonna show the world just how miserable I am by your side?” He teased, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of her head. “Now come on, seriously, up, moving. Let’s go, I’m taking you out.”

“If it’s make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?”

Chapter III: So High School

taglist: @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @herbookgarden @guiltyyassin

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 2: "Left" "Other left!"

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

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Being a new recruit in the BAU was complicated, especially when all your colleagues were so experienced and wise. Making any mistake made you feel nervous and foolish, but fortunately, they had forgiven those errors due to your young age. Particularly Emily, who had been through that before and didn’t want to cause you the same suffering.

The person you admired the most was, without a doubt, the incredibly intelligent Dr. Reid. You had had the opportunity to attend one of his lectures before, and he had left you speechless with the way he spoke. He never hesitated in a response, almost as if he knew absolutely everything.

That was the reason why you got so nervous around him, and it was why your mind often played tricks on you, making you stutter and clumsy in his presence.

That day, you had to go to New Jersey to catch the leader of a religious cult that had been causing quite a bit of trouble. Your unit chief showed no mercy and paired you with the doctor to cover a specific area. You feared asking another colleague to switch because you didn’t want him to think that you disliked him. Especially when he had smiled so kindly upon hearing your names together.

Dressed in your vest, armed, and with emotions running high, you prepared for the mission, walking toward the location with Dr. Reid's silent company. You had heard that he had been in prison (wrongfully) some time ago, and you wondered if that was why he was so serious. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t like you after all, or that he didn’t want to bond with you because you were so young...

“You're tense.”

Your thoughts were interrupted by a whisper, and you had to look at him, fearing you had misheard.

“Sorry?”

“You're tense. I can see it in your shoulders.”

Immediately, he placed the tips of his gentle and careful fingers on your shoulders to push them down. The contact and his proximity made you tremble.

“Oh, yes. Uh, I think just a little,” you said shyly.

“It’s normal to be. These are your first cases.”

“Were you this nervous at my age?”

“I’d dare say twice as much,” he murmured with a little smile, as if remembering a distant time.

You then wondered what your colleague had been through in life. He looked like a tough, mature man, unafraid of anything. But you didn’t know that that toughness had been the product of multiple traumas that had buried a part of himself.

You stared at him, perhaps a bit longer than you should have, and though he noticed, he didn’t say anything. For a profiler like him, it was easy to read the signals, which he interpreted as simple admiration on your part.

You snapped out of your daydream with a shaky sigh.

“I just hope everything goes well.”

“You’ve done well so far. You learn very quickly,” he complimented you. “In this job, you never stop learning, and the only way to do that is by making mistakes, so don’t be so hard on yourself.”

The fingers of his hand that had previously only brushed your shoulder slid down until his entire palm rested on it, giving it a friendly squeeze. It was an act that could almost be considered paternal, but it sent a chill down your spine.

The moment was interrupted by Emily’s voice through your earpiece, saying the target was about to come out.

Spencer and you took your positions while you held your breath for fear of being discovered. He had his back to the target and asked you a question with his eyes.

Which direction?

“Left,” you mouthed.

Spencer nodded, and just when you realized the mistake, he had already turned to one side.

You had forgotten that your left and his left were different.

“Other left!” you said aloud, pulling the man toward you before he compromised his position with the leader, who, by the way, was holding a shotgun.

Apparently, your voice didn’t go unnoticed by the attacker, who rushed in your direction with every intention of attacking. You had pushed Spencer behind you, and almost mechanically, you drew your weapon and shot the criminal. The bullet in his shoulder was enough to throw him off balance, and then your partner lunged at him to subdue him.

“We heard a shot! Are you okay?”

“Reid is subduing him,” you murmured, breathless, through the communicator on your chest.

A horde of followers appeared with weapons, but at the same time, the SWAT team arrived, so they had no choice but to lower their guns.

Spencer wasn’t careful when he lifted the man off the ground, who was already bleeding profusely from his shoulder, and then Luke helped him take him where he needed to go; first to the ambulance, then the police station.

Until that moment, you had never shot anyone, and the act left you slightly in shock, especially because of how quickly you had reacted. You didn’t blame yourself, of course, because the man was going to attack you, and it was your partner’s life or his. But still, it was a bit traumatic.

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispered.

He immediately approached you and placed his hands on your elbows, his eyes roaming all over your face to check your state. He was so close and touched you so gently that you melted under his fingers, trying not to look too affected and feeling a slight heat rise to your cheeks.

“Yes, are you?”

“I am. Thank you,” he said kindly, referring to how you had handled the situation. With that, he suddenly stepped away from you and adopted another expression. “How is it that at your age, you still don’t know which is left and which is right?”

You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, feeling your cheeks turn even redder from embarrassment.

“I got confused, okay? I… forgot that when we’re facing each other, directions are reversed, and I was so worried…”

“At least no one got hurt. Well, no one who wasn’t supposed to,” he joked.

You chuckled softly at the joke and looked at the man apologetically, feeling shy about your mistake. You didn’t know why, but you decided to confess something.

“The truth is, you intimidate me, Doctor. I mean, not you, but… your knowledge. You’re so smart, and I’m afraid of messing up, and then I get nervous, and that’s why I make mistakes.”

Your rushed outburst made Spencer laugh, a deep and delightful sound you could get used to.

You were about to say something else when Emily called you to join the rest of the unit, and you had no choice but to start moving. Not without, of course, hearing a playful whisper beside you.

“I don’t know if you knew this, but all that knowledge is meant to be shared. And I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you.”

One day, Spencer Reid was going to be your end.

[ammoknightsofficial]

In my earnest opinion, the most coherent read of Cheval's character is one where he's TransFem and just hadn't realized it yet in the first Monster Hunter Stories game. It adds a lot of new, fun layers to his characterization, and I really shouldn't be shocked that it's not the most common reading - Transmisogyny and the prioritization of men and men's stories are rampant and pervasive - but it still does surprise me that, from what I've seen, I may be the first person to think of that? Or, at least, I may be the first to post about it online, publicly. Because to me, it's just such a clear reading of his character that I was genuinely blindsided to see him still identifying as male in Wings of Ruin.

To kind of explain my thought processes here... Let's start at Rathi. Keep in mind, I haven't gotten too deep into the anime - I'm only a couple episodes in - so that may color my takes here.

The Player's Rider in Monster Hunter Stories is, by default, a boy with a Rathalos - which is, more or less, The Boy Dragon - which is then mirrored by Cheval with his Rathian - which is, more or less, The Girl Dragon - both in that inherent Dragon Gender Difference, and in their respective roles of Protagonist (fell into the role) and Antagonist (self-assigned). A subtle note here is that while the Protagonist - our Rider, who is male by default - is, in Monster Hunter Stories, playing a distinctly Masculine role in the narrative, Cheval is, arguably, playing a distinctly Feminine role by contrast.

The Rider is being pushed along a "Traditional Hero's Journey" narrative, most often reserved for men and marked by a focus on "action" rather than feeling, while Cheval's journey - a clear mental health spiral invoked by grief - is notably far more invested in exploring his emotions, which is the driving force of literally all of his actions. The inciting action for the Rider is finding that Rathalos egg. The inciting action for Cheval is the loss of his mother, Vlau.

Cheval's grief over his mother's death, an event he watched unfold with his own two eyes at such a young age, morphs into a - as I like to put it - soul-rotting rage, which - wrongfully but very understandably - morphs into a kind of Hatred of Monsters that. While this hatred is literal, it does, at some points, begin to branch into the (logically) metaphorical, with his insistence that anything that is a threat to any human needs to be eliminated. It's easy to see that he's quietly suffering an intense case of Survivor's Guilt, earnestly believing that he needs to become stronger, stronger, and stronger still so that he can be the one that protects everyone from harm. It's his job, he needs to do this, he failed once already, and he can never do it again.

A Maternal Instinct.

One we see that Rathi, Cheval's Rathian, also holds towards him - sensible, considering she's, in all the ways she logically can, taking on the role of Cheval's mother in the absence of his real mother, though interesting, if one were to be reading into the (potential) themes here. (Side Note - the relationship between Rathi, Vlau, and Cheval being analogous to Neon Genesis Evangelion's EVA Unit-01, Yui Ikari, and Shinji Ikari is something I also thought of, find interesting, and may expand upon in the future.)

It goes without saying, how noteworthy it is that what seems to be the only thing Cheval has to remember his mother by is that little bird pendant. Did you remember the fact that it's a mirror? Did you realize that, when we see Cheval in the second game, he's begun tying his hair back in a braid, just like his mother did? Remember how much he looked like his mom? Remember how that armor he's got is a seemingly incomplete version of the Rath Soul Armor? The Rath Soul Armor, constructed of parts of an Azure Rathalos... A Blue Rathalos. Image of Masculinity on top of Image of Masculinity. It looks wrong on him - something he donned as a rejection of his softer, kinder, more feminine, happier younger self. Something he donned to telegraph that he's a threat now. A masculinity that's rough, frightening, and so very wrong. The armor is the first thing you notice when he first appears as an antagonist. The armor is the first thing that communicates to you just how badly he's doing. The armor, a symbol of masculinity as something to be feared, something that looks totally wrong on him, is a farcical construction. It's not who he is - it's something he's wearing as a mask while roiling away in a particularly angry sea of guilt, trauma, and self-loathing. It's a costume. The patriarchal, masculine garb he wears is a costume, and it's not protecting him in the slightest.

You know, that mirror might've been broken during Vlau's death, but maybe, just maybe... After everything's said and done... After he sheds that broken, half-finished Azure Rathalos Armor - a symbol of his masculinity, relationship with masculinity, and his heart-rending battle with trauma and grief... Maybe after that, he can look into that mirror and finally see his mother again.

Her mother would be proud of her. I just know it.

I'm of the mind that she felt guilt about changing her name. It's another one of the few things he has of her to live by, so "throwing it away", so to speak, was challenging. But it was a sacrifice made to further himself along the path of healing. But that doesn't mean he can't still use his mother's naming scheme.

"Cheval" is a French word, meaning a male horse. It relates quite well to riders as a concept, and brings to mind images of knighthood and chivalry. It works quite well for him, and it suits him - but thats just the issue, right? It suits him. It does not suit her. "Merrie" is a Dutch word, meaning a female horse. The tie-in with riders remains, the naming scheme remains, but she's no longer playing the role of Knight against the Black Dread. She's no longer driving himself mad with obsession and sadness. She's just here, she's alive, and she's happy again. She's merry. She's Merrie. :)