victim of convenience

Mars Signs (Sex, Anger)

Aries- Anger is quick to rise and often things are taken extremely personally. Sex is often passionate and straight to the point with them.

Taurus- Mild mannered until they feel they are being pushed into something that makes them uncomfortable. Then all bets are off. In sex they like to cater to all senses and take their to time enjoy it.

Gemini- Carefree, sensitive, or irritable depending on the day. Likes to try new things and talk a lott in the bedroom.

Cancer- Emotional and sensitive, and very protective of their feelings. Likes to cuddle and very touchy feely when it comes to sex.

Leo- You will know when a Leo mars is mad. Loves to dominate, whether in anger or in sex. Likes to show off in the bedroom because they usually can.

Virgo- Calculated and doesn’t necessarily voice themselves when mad but when they do will criticize every fault they notice about you. The little things count with them in sex and love foreplay.

Libra- Willing to compromise even when pissed but they are capable of an objectivity that shows no mercy when they’ve been pushed too many times. Will do anything to please partner in bed.

Scorpio- Yikes. When they are mad they feel it with every fiber of their being and will do anything in their power to make whoever made them mad feel it too. Loooves sex and are capable of unmatchable passion.

Sagittarius- Quick to get mad and/or take offense on anyone’s comments. Just as quick as they get mad they let it go though. Loves to try new things in bed like Gemini but less talking, more curiosity.

Capricorn- Very dignified, will try not to stoop to enemy’s level. If they choose to, will react in a more calculated than impulsive way. They are direct and simple in bed and fascinated with connection. They take sex seriously.

Aquarius- Really hard to know where and when an Aqua will pop off. More than likely they will only get mad when their opinion isn’t respected, WILL relentlessly argue. Sex is always very interesting and unique with these people.

Pisces- Will play the victim when it’s most convenient, can feel like their feelings are always the most hurt. Can play any part the partner wants in bed and is very passionate.

So… i tried to give Eirika form FE: Sacred stones another outfit, more suitable for adventures as i see it. Tried to keep the original color scheme but these white pants… orz. and bright red boots… Well, actually i just needed to practice  what i learned (a tiny bit, as always) and Eirika was a convenient victim i was eyeing for a couple of days already.

prologue (daddy issues)

Originally posted by ferxxy

Originally posted by painfulblisss

naomi saverin is a prostitute at eichen house, california’s largest underground sex trafficking conglomerate, specializing in werewolf therapy. being a sex worker is all she’s ever known. until one day, she gets hired by the hale pack, and she meets isaac lahey. if there’s one thing they have in common, it’s daddy issues. 

he’s frustrating and stubborn. he constantly challenges all her beliefs, but through it all, he gives her hope for a better life. after a life time of disappointments and insecurities, and her past threatening to kick down the door at any moment, naomi finds it difficult to let him in. but you have to understand–it’s hard enough navigating a teenage romance without being contractually obligated to have sex with all your boyfriend’s friends.

pairings: isaac x naomi (main), derek x naomi, derek x stiles, scott x naomi, scott x kira, theo x naomi, brett x naomi

warnings: mentions of abuse, some unwanted sexual contact, rape attempts 

Keep reading

Never apologize for choosing your mental health, your sanity, yourself in one-sided relationships. They will always villainize you for having enough self-love to walk away and they will always victimize themselves while conveniently leaving out all the shit they’ve done.

–Evy Sutton–

© All rights reserved 2017

anonymous asked:

Has Sans ever showed Toriel his ability to teleport?

Sans doesn’t have the ability to teleport in royalblue. But he still has his ways of getting around quickly. 

He is incredibly fast and also has this strange ability to be able to defy physics. Like being able to slide backwards for a short distance without moving his legs or almost seeming to walk/run on air for very short periods of time. 

Besides, teleporting is more of a certain lazy carrots thing. 

But, unlike Sans’ abilities, Paps teleportation is not something that runs in the family. Or very natural at all. 

Teenage Mutant Spider-Kid (Reader x Peter Parker/Spider-Man) [Pt. 1(?)]

I’ve been in love with Spider-Man for as long as I can remember and I didn’t realize there was a whole world of imagines and one shots based on the love of my life.

So here’s a fem reader insert in which the reader is a spiderling but she is a mutant born with her powers (pretty much all the same with her own quirk, and she produces her own webs, and doesn’t need the shooters like Peter does). I was thinking that the reader is a vigilante by night and tries to keep a low profile so people don’t know about her vigilante identity. She does this because she had a sheltered childhood (due to being a mutant) and had lots of time to play with computers, thus becoming a decorated hacker and being able to hack into cameras of the areas she works in. The reader’s secrecy gets blown when Spidey and her meet each other to save the same person. Then it turns out they go to the same school…

I think that’s enough background/introduction for the start… Onwards, friends!

Fair warning: I like to write long ones, so strap in and have your popcorn ready. This one will probably be a series if it gets received well or people request so. ^.^


Word count: 3,140

Warnings: Just some minuscule cussing, also I figured with the character being so sheltered most of her life, she has trouble socializing and has social anxiety

For most people, soaring around New York would be fun and invigorating. But most people weren’t like you; you did this almost nightly, and just weren’t feeling it tonight. You’d been patrolling the streets from above ever since you moved there over the summer. But no one knew of your presence in New York thanks to your hacking skills and being overshadowed by Spider-Man. You also usually took smaller crimes unlike the ones that your counterpart normally dealt with.

After hearing about Spider-Man, you begged your parents to let you do the same. You were what everyone called a mutant; born with unimaginable abilities due to a mutation in your DNA. This mutation actually gave you abilities just like Spider-Man and you wanted to meet him so much. You’d never met any other mutants that were like you, and you wanted to talk to someone about it. Being a teenage mutant was rough, especially if you’d been home schooled most of your life and you were just started public school for the first time. And not just any school, it was high school.

You pulled out a squished granola bar from your pocket, pulled the bottom of your mask up to reveal your mouth, and start nervously nibbling on your snack. After months of constantly bothering your parents, you finally convinced them to let you start public school and the lot of you moved from the middle of nowhere to the Big Apple.

The first month of school had gone okay, considering you were socially inept. Pretty much all the acquaintances you’d made were all because they approached you. That and your parents encouraged you to join the computer science club. It was going pretty good…

Your thoughts were interrupted by a beeping and vibrating from the smart watch on your wrist. Shortly after you’d heard about the Spider-Man, you had tapped into the police scanners and did some programming for it to notify you when key words or phrases were said over their radios.

“Armed robbery…” you scrunched up the granola bar wrapper and stuffed it into the pocket of your suit.

Mom would kill me.

Even though you snuck out every night against your parents’ wishes, you told yourself that you wouldn’t take any job that would put yourself in terrible danger. “Ehhhh…” You winced at the thought of your parents’ faces if you came home with tons of bruises or scratches, but you’d been doing nothing but stopping petty muggings and shoplifts. Nothing this exciting had happened since you started sneaking out.

You pulled your mask back into place and leaped from the top of the building you were perched on. You free fell for a few moments, closing your eyes and taking in the feeling of freedom, then shot a web to a building ahead to start your journey to the crime scene.

Another buzz from your smart watch; the suspects were fleeing on foot through the maze of alleyways just a couple blocks away from the victim convenience store. You were worried about being spotted by the cops while in the air, so you landed on the top of an apartment building and started sprinting and vaulting along the rooftops.

Not long after you landed, you spotted the perpetrators skulking in the alley you just jumped over. You quickly booted up a program on your watch that hones in on your location and disables any cameras within a block of where you are. With that, you start crawling in the darkness of the alley walls, with your black suit to help you blend into the night.

“I think… we lost ‘em, man.” One of the two men panted and slid down the wall to hide behind a dumpster. The other wasn’t so sure; he kept looking behind his back and across to the other end of the alley, which was blocked off by a high fence with a locked gate.

“I don’t know… we could get lucky and miss a visit from the Spider-Man, but our luck ain’t that great…” He kept looking over his shoulder and leaned against the wall opposite of his partner. You were wondering whether you should surprise them by landing in between them or webbing their stolen goods.

Before you could decide, another figure swooped in and landed on the open end of the alley, cutting off their only means of escape. You stared in awe, because it was him; the Spider-Man you’d admired for so long was standing right in front of you and he didn’t see you. You skulked along the wall towards the gated end and waited.

“Hello fellas! Whatcha got there?” He stretched his neck to get a look at what the men had stolen.

“It’s the Bug Man!” One of them pointed was starting to scramble up to his feet.

“It’s actually Spider-Man, but whatever.” He shrugged. “So, you gonna share some of that with me or…?” The men tried to make their escape to the fence, but you jumped from the wall and forced yourself between the two of them and their exit. “Who–?” Spider-Man started, but then refocused on the criminals as both of them held up a gun at each of you.

They smirked confidently, but just as soon as they’d gotten the guns out you and Spider-Man disarmed them with your webs. They growled in frustration, but attempted to lunge towards the two of you. Before he could even think about how to hurt you, you swung your leg around and he fell with a thud on his back. Before he could say “ow” you tied him up with your webs and hung him from an overhead fire escape. You held up your wrist to check the time.

You were making good time, if you didn’t leave soon the cops would probably be here, and you didn’t want them to know you existed. You shot a web to the roof of the building next to you and was ready to launch yourself up. “Wait!” Spider-Man ran towards you. “Who are you?!” You hesitated and gripped the web tighter in your hands.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone about me.” You tugged on the web and launched yourself to the roof. You heard him try to chase after you, but you were faster, and already around the corner before he could even get out of that alley. While you were swinging back to your home, you were running what just happened through your head.

It happened so fast–just as you’d originally hoped–but you wanted to be able to talk with him more. You’d been dreaming of that moment for so long, but your need to keep your existence a secret had outweighed your want to meet your idol. If any news of your vigilante identity was learned by the general public, then your parents would immediately know it was you.

You looked down at the time again: 2:09 am it glowed, and you decided to turn in early. Tomorrow was Monday, and you didn’t want to start the week any grumpier than you needed to be.

You swung to your room’s window and crept in as quietly as you could, stripping the suit off, trading it for your pajamas, and hiding it under your mattress. You set your smart watch in a drawer in your desk and hopped into bed.

I still can’t believe I met Spider-Man today… You closed your eyes and slowly drifted into slumber.

Y/N… Y/N…

You grumbled and covered your face with your covers. Suddenly, said covers were torn from your body and you were exposed to the coldness of your bedroom. You curled up to keep the heat in.

“Y/N, you’re going to be late! Get up!” You mother shook you awake. You glanced over at your alarm clock with glazed eyes and tried to focus them onto the numbers. 7:15 am You cursed loudly, and shot out of bed as if you hadn’t stayed up late the night before. You threw on a random graphic tee, some jeans, your Converse, and stuffed all your homework that was on your desk into your backpack. You quickly brushed your teeth, rinsed with some mouthwash (almost swallowing it in your haste), grabbed your glasses and went for the door. “Don’t forget your gloves!” Your mom reminded, and you ran back to your room to find them on your desk.

 “What about breakfast?” Your dad said behind his phone. You tore through the pantry frantically, looking for the granola bars. You snatched one, held it up, and ran out the door. “Have a nice day! Love you!” Your mom managed to get out as fast as she could before you tore down the stairs.

Midtown High was far enough away that you needed to take the morning bus to get there. “Shit shit shit….” You muttered as you were waiting at the bus stop, tapping your foot impatiently. You looked at the time again–7:30 am. Even though you got ready at super speed (which wasn’t an ability you had), there was no way you’d make it to school on time. The only way you’d make it was if… 

No. You can’t. You scolded yourself silently for even thinking about it. Even if it were faster to travel by web, you wouldn’t dare show yourself in broad daylight. Your bus finally arrived and you hopped on as quickly as you could, trying to stay calm while sitting as close to the exit as possible. Looking at the time, you knew for sure you’d be late, so you pulled up Facebook Messenger on your phone and sent one of your classmates a text.

Hey, I’m gonna be hella late for class. Could you let Mr. Bradly know for me?

Send. The bus departed, and you kept checking your phone every 2 seconds for a reply. Your phone buzzed and checked the reply.

I got you, girl. 👍

Though it wasn’t much, your anxiety subsided slightly. Your stop was coming up, and before the bus was even close to stopping you were up and ready to bolt once those doors were open.

You ran across the street and down the block to reach the entrance of Midtown High. It was a pretty grand and nice high school, but then again, you haven’t seen many high schools. You rushed into the office and checked in, then sped-walked to your classroom on the other side of the building.

It was terrifying to walk into the class as the teacher was talking. Most of the people looked back at you when they heard the door open and stared at you as you quietly made your way to your assigned (but not assigned) seat. As you were getting your things out of your backpack, you were hoping and praying that your teacher wouldn’t stop his lecture to ridicule you, especially in front of the whole class.

He simply acknowledged your entrance with a glance and continued with what he was talking about. Thank GOD. You screamed in your head. You took a deep breath and let out the quietest sigh you could, as you finally had the chance to relax after rushing to get there. What a great way to start the week. You mentally rolled your eyes and paid attention to what was going on in class.

It wasn’t until after first period that you realized you’d forgotten to put on your gloves. Unlike Spider-Man, you had an additional ability to poison people with just a touch from your fingertips. You had learned to control it for the most part, but you and your parents were still unsure about it so you always wore gloves. You didn’t want to possibly kill some poor teenager or stranger on the street. You were lucky that you didn’t touch anyone on the way from the bus stop. Once they were on, you felt much more relaxed and headed towards one of your favorite classes: Algebra.

Most of your peers either hated, or were indifferent about the subject, but you loved it. Unlike literature, math was a language that made sense to you. You should’ve been taking Calculus, but it would cause credit issues and scheduling problems so you just took the advanced math offered to sophomores at Midtown. It was one of the easiest classes for you, and it wasn’t long until your teacher asked you to be a tutor, and not only for Algebra, but up into Calculus as well.

There was only one other student as young as you, and it was some kid genius named Peter Parker. You’d never met him since you started school, but he was pretty famous amongst your nerd circle. Everyone in that group was very intelligent, but Peter was described to be godly in a way. In all honesty, you wanted to befriend him, but your social skills weren’t the best. You had a lot of classmates you considered close acquaintances but no close friends yet. You were hoping you’d get the gist of things once you settled into Midtown’s student body.

“Hey, Y/N, that’s 


.” Someone nodded towards a boy at the other end of the cafeteria with brown hair and brown eyes. He wore a button-up and a sweater over it and fit the whole “genius” character.

That’s Peter Parker?” You weren’t impressed. Even though he fit the nerd archetype, he just didn’t scream genius to you. But who were you to judge? He even sat by himself; well with his friend which you had a class or two with named Ned. “Why do they sit by themselves?” You asked.

“Ehh, he’s not very social.”

“He’s too damn smart to be sitting with us ‘commoners.’“ One of them smirked.

“He’s probably thinking about how dumb we are compared to him.” Another remarked.

With every stab they made at him, you were getting angrier and angrier. How could they be so cruel to someone they never even talked to? It sounded like a lot of assumptions on their part, and it was pissing you off. You then did something that you’d never wanted to do, and that was shout.

“You’re just jealous!” You spat and then recoiled at the suddenness of your aggression. The tables around you were starting to stare. You immediately regretted the outburst, but kept going. “I-I’m smart too,” you stuttered softer, “but I don’t hear you complaining about me.” A short pause.

“Well, you don’t flaunt it around, Y/N.”


“Well, neither does he, but your heads seem to be too far up your asses to notice!” You slammed your hands on the table as you got up and grabbed your backpack and tray.

“Y/N…” one of them muttered, but you were already storming off to an empty table.

Your hands were shaking, and you felt like tears were coming. You’d just ruined any chances of becoming friends with any of them. Your brain started relaying all the worst-case scenarios: they’d never talk to you ever again; they’d sabotage your science projects out of spite; they’d give you hell in computer science club. The list was endless, and your brain was checking off each and everyone of them as a possibility. Not only that, but the people who were around your table would know how angry you’d gotten and probably think you were some jerk.

You were about to get up to dump your food in the trash and seek shelter in the bathroom, but you heard someone sit in a chair across from you. Oh God… please go away… You tried to calm the shaking down in your hands but it wasn’t stopping. There was an awkwardly long pause, and the mysterious person asked, “Hey, um, are you okay?” It was a calm and almost welcoming voice, if that made any sense, and it belonged to a boy.

You shook your head and kept your head facing down on the table and your arms hiding your head from their view. “Do you need to go to the nurse?” Your leg was shaking erratically. What was this feeling? You felt like you were in danger, but nothing was happening…

“I-I’m fine…” Your voice wavered and you tried to take deep breaths.

“Seriously,” he whispered, “if you need me to walk you to the nurse’s office I will.” Not knowing what to do, you nodded and slowly sat up to get a look at the stranger. It was Peter Parker, out of all the people to come to your aid, it was him. Was this some cruel irony? “I can take your tray…” He offered and you nodded, catching a glance at his calm and kind demeanor. You felt like the whole cafeteria was staring at you, so you hoisted your backpack and tried to escape the room as quick as you could. “Wait–” you immediately stop, because there was a familiarity in his voice that sparked a curiosity.

You’d never met Peter before this horrendous encounter, but something about him seemed so familiar. It was a good thing you stopped because he had to gather his things and tell his friend where he was going. After walking out of the cafeteria, you ease up slightly, and let out a huge sigh.

“Um, I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.” 

“I know.” You didn’t even think twice, and realized how rude you sounded. “Sorry, I know of you. I’m Y/N.” You hold out your hand to shake, and he takes it.

“Y/N? Are you one of the math tutors?”

“Um, yeah. I like math…” You look down at the ground. He noticed how uncomfortable it made you, and tried to combat it.

“I only ask because I thought I saw your name on the list recently.” He gave a nervous chuckle and scratched the back of his neck. “So I guess there’s two geniuses in our class now.” He joked and you shrugged.

“I wouldn’t call myself a genius…” You were confident in your intelligence, but never really considered yourself a genius. “I was home schooled and got into computers to pass the time, that’s all.”

“Really? That’s cool, ‘cause that’s a hobby of mine!” His eyes lit up and so did yours for a brief moment. You were going to say something else on the subject, but you looked up at the sign over the door ahead and realized you had made it to your destination.

“Thank you for walking me here, Peter. I really appreciate it.” You bit your lip, a nervous habit of yours, and he smiled.

“No problem, Y/N.” There was a long pause, and you didn’t know what to say or do.

“Um, I’ll see you around.” You opened the door to the nurse’s office and gave a little wave.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around…”

Poetry Tag Statistics March 2014

I have already posted my weekly sonnet, so I’ll use my Monday-evening-post to finally get the poetry tag stats for March done.

My weekly poem, which is totally meta and cool and also describes the process how I write sonnets, can and should be read here:

How To Sonnet (A Sonnet)

Seriously, check it out!

Also, if you enjoy my poetry or hell, even if you only come here to see the stats list, please follow me on Twitter and like me on Facebook:

And now let me present you March stats. A comparably slow month, judging from the total number of featured posts. Maybe I wasn’t the only one taking a vacation.

Total number of featured posts: 1028

  • The top 10 contributed 12.5% of all posts.
  • The top 25 contributed 23.6% of all posts.
  • The top 50 contributed 37.4% of all posts.
  • 437 different contributors were featured.
  • Each contributor was featured 2.35 times on average.
  • 201 contributors have been featured multiple times, 236 only once.
  1. renebofene, 19
  2. uutpoetry, 16
  3. r-ybanez, 14
  4. lulu-llama, 13
  5. labelledamesansdice, 13
  6. wordrummager, 13
  7. mickeymichal, 12
  8. viperslang, 11
  9. victim-of-convenience, 9
  10. chucklingpecan, 9

Keep reading

Was Joanna of Castile actually mad?

Juana I de Castilla, also known as ‘Juana la Loca’ (Joanna the Mad), was the third child of Isabel and Fernando, the Catholic Monarchs. She is said to have been extremely beautiful and quite intelligent, traits she apparently also shared with her sisters. The deaths of her brother, niece, sister, and nephew, made her heiress to the kindgoms of Castile and Aragon.

She married Felipe el Hermoso ('Philip the Handsome’), Duke of Burguny, who she is said to have loved deeply. The marriage took place when she was only 16, and Felipe wasted no time to isolate her from her family and court, especially as she got closer and closer to the throne of Castile. Her anger at his many infidelities is what began the rumours of her being 'mad’.

Today, what was considered as madness is now regarded as a combination of extreme jealousy and simple religious scepticism, the latter highly scandalous considering her country, her upbringing, and her mother. These two situations prompted Queen Isabel to send Friar Tomás de Matienzo to Flanders, to see exactly how her daughter was doing.

Through a series of letters we see the progression of Juana’s jealousy and loss of faith. The first letter reads:

'She’s so gentle, and so beautiful and fat, and so pregnant, that if Your Highnesses saw her, you would find comfort.’

However, subsequent letters say:

’…I told her I did not mean to pry into her life… her little devotion… no piety… I told her everything Your Highness wanted…’

Juana herself admitted that her problem was jealousy, but remembered that her mother had once gone through the same affliction and gotten over it, which she trusted she would also do. Felipe would parade his many lovers before her, which caused her great pain and only contributed to her problems. 

When Isabel died and Juana became Queen, her husband and father did everything in their power to keep her away from the throne and she was suddenly declared mentally unfit. After her husband also died, she was locked up by her father in a castle in Tordesillas, where she spent forty-six years, from 1509 until her death in 1555. Her confinement legitimized her father’s rule in Castile, and that of her son Carlos after Fernando died.

It is probable that she suffered from some kind of heavy depression, a condition that was only worsened by the treatment she endured at the hands of her husband and her guards at Tordesillas. She developed physical problems and her health was quite poor, which made some people say she was 'cursed’, and that her sickness was the result of her lack of faith rather than how badly she was mistreated.

Unlike her sister Catalina, Juana does not have a record of miscarriages or stillborn children. Out of her six children, the six sat upon a throne: Leonor, Queen of Portugal; Carlos, Emperor of the Holy Empire and King of Spain; Isabel, Queen of Denmark; Fernando, Emperor of the Holy Empire after Carlos died; María, Queen of Hungary; and Catalina, also Queen of Portugal. That legacy alone, as a mother of kings and queens, should have granted her a higher place in history than she currently occupies.

With contemporary research it is now widely believed that there wasn’t as much madness as there was misunderstanding and mistreatment. Research, such as the discovery of letters and testimonials, proves just to what extent Juana was a victim of political conveniences and sexism. Situations such as her criticism of religious fanatics, and her refusal to tolerate her husband’s lovers are what made her seem unbalanced at the time, and provided a great excuse to declare she had lost her mind

Past Life

Requested by @mysteriouscrystalnomad: the Reader knows Reid from high school, and his feelings for her are… complicated. Years later, she joins the BA and he doesn’t know how to handle it. (This one will probably be at least two parts)

“Right this way, Y/L/N. The rest of the team is already meeting in the roundtable room, we’re just about to go over a case.” Agent Hotchner leads her from his office to a larger conference room. It was daunting. Only minutes ago had he hired her to the fill the open position on the team, and she is already on her way into the field.

After several years in the LA Field Office, she’s finally made it to the BAU. Her heart is pounding in her chest, the excitement almost palpable. Hotch pushes open the door, and her just like that her heart stops. Excitement turns cold and transforms into apprehension.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet the newest member of our team.”

Their eyes are all on her, but she’s desperately trying to avert her own gaze. It’s him. Without needing to double check, she knows it’s him. But maybe he doesn’t recognize her. Maybe it’s safe. “This is Y/F/N Y/L/N. She’s transferred in from LA, and has an extensive background in psychology and forensic linguistics. Y/L/N, this is David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau-”

“JJ,” the blonde woman cuts in, smiling.

“ – Penelope Garcia, and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Tentatively she meets his eyes, only to find him wearing a mask of complete indifference. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.

“Hello.” She waves. “I’m really looking forward to working with all of you.”

“There will be plenty of time for formalities later,” Hoctch assures them, “but right now we need to focus on the case. Garcia?”

The woman dressed in neon blue leaps up from her seat. “Of course, sir!” She’s the technical analyst, and it’s clear from her presentation of the case that while she’s brilliant, she is rather squeamish when it comes to murders. Of the five prostitutes strangled and dismembered, she cannot bear to look at a single photo. Nevertheless, she can do her job without examining crime scene shots.

After only ten minutes of throwing out theories- through most of which she sits back to listen – they are headed out to Montana to apprehend their unsub. Hotch dismisses them, and the rest of the team begins to file out, as she scrambles to grab her file and hurry after them. In the near-empty room, a hand slams down on the folder. Spencer. She glances up at him, trying to keep calm.

“I remember,” he says.

The blood drains from her face. “Sorry – what?”

“I remember. I haven’t forgotten the things you did, and I haven’t forgiven you for it either.” Ice chills her veins, a blizzard blown her way by the coldness in his voice. “You may be a member of the BAU, but this is my team. I was here first. I won’t mention the past to any of them, but if you get in my way, I’ll be sure your time here is temporary.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“What do you think Y/N?” With that, he turns and stalks away, not once looking back at her. It takes several minutes for her to regain her composure, find her footing once more. The accusation stings, and as much as she wants to be upset with him, she can’t find much reason to. Guilt won’t allow her to blame him. Only herself.

If only she’d been stronger back then. Braver. Cowardice created a rift she never imagined she would one day have to reconcile. What are the odds that the universe would bring them back together? This job is supposed to be a fresh start, instead her ugly past has inserted itself into her present.

I belong here, she tells herself. I worked hard for this and I belong here. She’s just not sure if she believes it yet.

On the plane she positions herself as far away from him as possible. No eye contact. No discussion. When she suggests that the killer could have medical training, he rushes to shoot her idea down, saying his skills are lacking. It’s more likely the killer is a butcher.

She nods, and says nothing further.

Fortunately, Hotch sends her out into the field with JJ, to go examine their latest crime scene. That doesn’t stop him from giving her one last glare, a visual warning, before they go their separate ways.


“Actually, Y/L/N made a really good point,” JJ says. “He’s dumping them in the woods, and they’re difficult to navigate. If he’s not a local, he has to have some connection to that place.”

“Well the Green River Killer chose secluded spots her could revisit. Could our guy be doing the same thing?” Morgan asks.

“No, that’s another thing we discussed. There’s no evidence of that. Besides, Y/L/N thinks he would have a more specific type if that were the case. He’s just looking for convenient victims.”

He can bear it no longer. “Well, if that’s what she thinks, it must be right,” Reid snaps.

JJ and Morgan both turn to him, perplexed. “What? Spence, it’s a valid theory,” JJ says.

“I just think we need to really consider all possibilities, especially this early in the case! What if she’s wrong?”

Someone behind him clears their throat, he and doesn’t have to look to know who it is. “Do you have a problem with my ideas, Dr. Reid?”

That voice brings back uncomfortable memories, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. He wants to mute it, but there’s no way to escape her. “No, I don’t.” Instead, he gives her a look that clearly conveys, I just have a problem with you. “I’m only saying you haven’t had much field experience, and we can’t limit our thinking at this point.”

Y/N squares her shoulders, ready for a fight. It’s a gesture he recognizes, when she’s trying to make herself look more intimidating. But he’s older now. Much taller. That won’t work on him anymore.

“Maybe I don’t have much experience with serial killers, but I did field work in LA with the sex crimes division, and I’ve done extensive research. I think it’s rather unfair for you to disregard my input entirely.”

Hypocritical, considering how little she regard she one gave for the wishes of others. The longer he has to stand here and tolerate her, the more impatient he’s becoming. Reid wants her gone, he wants her far away from him, he never wants to see her face. Why her? Why now? He ignores her, and goes back to his geographic profile.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe her arrogance will get the best of her, and she’ll make a mistake. She’ll be fired, and somebody new can take her place. Somebody who doesn’t make him want to run in the opposite direction. Y/N leaves him with the sensation of being ill. That’s not how this team is supposed to work. How can they be a family when one of their members is pure poison?

Reid watches as she jokes with Morgan, and JJ listens intently. They’ve already accepted her. No questions asked. It’s not fair. They don’t know her. They have no idea what this person is like.

Her laugh echoes through the tiny conference room. It reaches deep into his memories, rattling him. Pulls from him a visceral response.

Hahaha! Are you going to go crying back to your mommy? What a freak. Ha!

Reid closes his eyes. His hands clench into fists so tight he draws blood from his palms.

He will not let her win. He will not let her take his safe space from him like this.

I see the American media is already calling the sweep of Mohammed bin Salman in Saudi Arabia an “anti-corruption” move, never mind the mass jailing victims have conveniently been political opponents and cousins in his way to the throne. I also see that for perhaps the first time in forever, an American president is fully and publicly endorsing a series of measures at odds with those systems of norms and practices we commonly refer to as ‘our values’, and openly stating that those currently being “harshly” treated deserve it. I see the European heads of government haven’t been so foolish as their United States counterpart.
OMG - Milestones!

Okay, so I’m shit at graphics, and can’t do anything fancy with art, but I’ve hit the 4000 follower milestone and am pretty darn amazed.

So, for a start, here’s this. Below are most of the people I follow and reblog from, so they’re the reason I blog a lot of what I do. The large majority are mutuals, and I urge you to check all of these out. (I’ve probably missed out or messed up somewhere, so apologies if I’ve missed someone obvious.)

Italicised blogs are non-anime.
Bolded blogs are art blogs.
♥ blogs are haikyuu fanfic writers.


@2k15bisexualbeatdown ♥ @aetherdrive@akaahshi @aleksandra-chabros @amalasdraws @amazinglynoobmia @ameatyourservice @andysart @andyzambie @anotheropti​  ♥@anywayimnikki@aretama ♥ @aroceu@baes-all-around @benriyades @bibbidibobbididette @bkyngw @black-leather-sketchbook ♥@bohemianraspberries@bookoisseur @booksfortress@britishdetectives @captainsback @chescaleigh ♥@citrusfluegel♥ @claramarla ♥@companions@consultedlestrade @cousaten @crowswag @curiositykilledtheslug


@daisugars @daisugasting ♥@dubstepbard@dumbass-hinata @eicinic @electricprince @emery-dragonfly @frightingale @fukutomiis @gay-sports-anime-control-my-life @georgieporgiepuddininpie @hachibani @hai-kyuu @haikyuusetters @haikyuu-blog @hajimeiwaizumi @howitzerliterarysociety @i-like-to-look-at-your-back @ichigomaniac @imaginethehaikyuukids @inntia @isshikisenpai @its-fristi @iwaizoomin ♥@jumpfloat-meteor


@kaginata @kailadraws ♥@karasunovolleygays@keepyoureyesonthebackofyourmind @kftbrs @kurootetsurouvevo @kurrokocchi @leeleetaichou @lonelygnomely ♥@madkyouken@maureenab ♥@maychorian♥ ♥@medeadea♥ ♥@memordes@minarr @minty-frans  @miyabuu  ♥@mothraesthetic♥ ♥@museicaliteacup♥ ♥@mysecretfanmoments​♥ @nijimurashuuzo


@omgcheckplease @parasolghost @penkipenguin @pigeonboyfriend @pilonu ♥@pinkteabagarhut ♥ @prince-of-the-crows @queenoftheantz @radio-silents @reneewalkcr ♥@rinoa11@rowanorth @saintbargabar @sherryandcake ♥@shingekinoboyfriends@shinyasguren @skeleaton  @springroove @sunsteez 


@tealbruise @that-will-be-neij-for-you @thecolourpurpleinafield @thegreybeyond ♥@thewindraiser ♥ @this-puppy-flies-too @tinycpr @tinytooru  @travelingtolandsfaraway@triananero​ ♥ @unsfzpxkable @usaggii ♥@ushjima@victim-of-convenience @viria @viriassecrets ♥@volleycrows♥ ♥@wildkitte ♥  @wilwheaton @yamqguchi @yosanoakiko @yowa-pedal

Thank you very much to those above and everyone who follows me for making my tumblr an important part of my life. I’m hoping to try another fic challenge soon, so keep your eyes peeled.

Poetry Tag Statistics January 2014

I’d like to start of this month’s statistics with a few additional stats about myself. I’m trying to post a new sonnet every week now (Monday evening seems like a good time) and of my last 8 sonnets, 7 have been featured. So thank you whoever was responsible for that.

My longest feature streak was 5 and the current is 2 (unless some editor decides to feature Locked Away which would combine them to a streak of 8).

I have recently reached 400 followers and I thank you all for your support. If you want to further support me, recommend me, reblog me, , follow me on Twitter or like me on Facebook. You know, those places that are not as cool and friendly as tumblr. I really don’t seem to get any exposure there at all.

So without further ado and rambling, here are the stats for which you’ve come here in the first place. (I hope you stay for my poetry though.)

Total number of featured posts: 1465

  • The top 10 contributed 9.6% of all posts.
  • The top 25 contributed 19.9% of all posts.
  • The top 50 contributed 32.1% of all posts.
  • 629 different contributors were featured.
  • Each contributor was featured 2.33 times on average.
  • 266 contributors have been featured multiple times, 363 only once.
  1. viperslang, 20
  2. wordrummager, 16
  3. mickeymichal, 16
  4. mj-orchard, 15
  5. the-art-of-misdirection, 14
  6. esn13, 13
  7. vagabondkingpoetry, 13
  8. inkskinned, 12
  9. loqui, 11
  10. ladymycroftmansfield, 11

Keep reading

Well, it’s been a year. Okay, not quite, but it’s Wednesday, so almost a year.

(J’écris en anglais, parce c’est pour tout le monde, mais gros bisous à mes collègues baguettes qui en ont bien besoin, ne serait-ce qu’à cause de la météo un peu merdique.)

A year ago, it was Wednesday too. Which means I spent way too much time on Tumblr, turned off the radio around 10, puttered about the house, then drove with the Best Beloved to the nearest Big City for the weekly shopping. We chatted for the 40-minutes ride, so I didn’t turn on the radio in the car. Had a sandwich on a bench, watched people go by, kind of thing. The store always has TVs on display; right now they all showed the same news channel. When I saw the caption “attentat à Charlie Hebdo” I thought they had found whoever had thrown a firebomb on the premises four years ago. “Attentat” can be translated as “criminal attack”, which is why it covers both explosions and shootings. And then I saw another caption with four of the victims’ names and went “WHAT!?” I think I startled a lot of people.

We must have stayed three minutes in front of those TVs, the Best Beloved and me, stunned, like someone had hit us over the head with a plank. Then we resumed our shopping, because fridges don’t fill up by themselves - although it would be nice if they did, albeit a little suspicious.

It was 5 PM when I could finally turn on the radio in the car to know what the hell had happened. And then the waterworks started. People crying on air. Journalists with voices shaking. This happened. Twelve people were brutally slaughtered, with war weapons, because of cartoons. The murderers are still at large.

I drove 10 km/h under the speed limit to get home. That day I found out that you can, in fact, drive while crying, but only if you’re really, really careful.

That night I felt like drawing, but couldn’t. I went on Facebook. I went on Tumblr. I found out there was actually a large number of French people here. I reblogged cartoons. I wrote stuff. My mutuals were incredibly supportive.

The next day, a third terrorist shot down a policewoman, and the day after that, he murdered four people and took seventeen more hostage in a kosher supermarket. And while we were still reeling from the grief and shock, influential people on Tumblr, who didn’t understand a thing about French history and culture, took one uneducated look at some Charlie Hebdo covers and decided we were all a bunch of racists and that those old cishet white guys had it coming.

Because they drew cartoons.

We answered with words, facts, tried to explain, educated, put into context. Some French people got so much anonymous hate it made them go off Tumblr completely. Fake SJW inundated the “#je suis Charlie” tag with hate. We regrouped around another tag, “#upthebaguette”, which was mostly used to talk about Kaamelott or chocolatines/pains au chocolat and a lot of things that we don’t usually talk about on Tumblr because it would mean writing in French. That didn’t go well, either. Not only were we racist scum, but also racist scum who didn’t even have the decency of posting in English. They looked at our French posts, not understanding more than a few words, and the French bashing continued.

The concept of “laïcité” is both simple and immensely complicated, but if I could sum it up, I would say this: religion has no place in French administration, because administration has to be the same for everyone. Everyone has the right to get married, get tried in court, have an education (free of charge, compulsory and “laïque”), without any distinction of any kind. It doesn’t mean we are all the same, it means we are all equal and the law of the Republic applies to everyone in the same way. It’s forbidden to wear a hijab or a cross in school (not counting universities and some private schools), but if somebody tears your veil from your head in the street, that’s assault and you can press charges (with mixed results, no doubt, but at least this is how it’s supposed to work. No system is perfect, unfortunately…) If you need to have an abortion, and a perfect stranger decides that you can’t because it hurts their religious feelings, well, too bad for them.

Blasphemy is not a crime, nor a felony, nor a misdemeanor in France. It’s not punishable by law. Assault or libel against a person, now? That is punishable by law.

To my mutuals, followers or the people who are neither, who either reblogged posts, wrote supporting messages or even just kept silent because they wanted to know more about everything before forming an educated opinion, THANK YOU. I can’t thank you enough. You made all the difference in the world. Without you those few days would have been even more of a nightmare than they were. You kept me and a lot of people from thinking “This is how the Tumblr hivemind thinks, this is what they all are and how they see us.” I wish I could hug every single one of you in person so bad.

To those who blogged without taking two seconds to think, who wrote and said that the victims had it coming, that okay maybe killing is a little extreme but that’s what you get for being offensive, who sent anonymous messages about how you were not Charlie and insulting us who were, you are the scum of the earth and I will neither forgive nor forget you as long as I live. Especially the absolute hypocrites who play social justice warriors and fight slut shaming and victim blaming only when it’s convenient for them. We were in tears and looked to you for comfort, and you kicked us in the stomach while we were down.

Nobody should ever get killed, assaulted or threatened physically for writing or drawing. Nobody. Period. Even arseholes have a right to safe speech. And people have the right to mock them if they want.

Je suis Charlie, et je le reste.

Poetry Tag Statistics May 2015

Hello, everyone. I’m late again it seems. Sorry for that.

So as usual, what happened to me last month? Well, I was flying around on business trips and was quite busy (you don’t say) and wrote that nice sonnet on the plane once that turned from dreamy landscape to zombie apocalypse in no time: Dying Light.

The lovely people that made the video game with the same name even read it and complimented me. The game itself is just amazing, the best I played this year and also stole a huge chunk of my time. Parkour and zombies. Instant win.

The next thing on my schedule is Collectormania Milton Keynes on Saturday, where I’ll be meeting with some dear old friends and also cosplaying a character I have dreamed about since I was a little child.

I have to get back to sewing the last details so I’ll leave you with the stats now. So long and thanks for reading.

Total number of featured posts: 301

  • The top 10 contributed 25.6% of all posts.
  • The top 25 contributed 41.9% of all posts.
  • The top 50 contributed 58.5% of all posts.
  • 174 different contributors were featured.
  • Each contributor was featured 1.73 times on average.
  • 51 contributors have been featured multiple times, 123 only once.

1. uutpoetry, 30
2. lzlabs, 8
3. unknowmenclature, 6
3. mikefrawley, 6
3. the-rex-ybanez, 6
6. wordswritteninsilence, 5
7. monarchalchemist, 4
7. kdecember, 4
7. inkeddiaries, 4
7. nectar-traps, 4
7. ladymycroftmansfield, 4
7. buttonpoetry, 4
7. shamanfox, 4
7. aubriestar, 4
15. archonofdarkness, 3
15. chucklingpecan, 3
15. thissometimepoet, 3
15. theboredpoet, 3
15. blankslate, 3
15. myshoesuntied, 3
15. murooned, 3
15. esn13, 3
15. wednesdayshambles, 3
15. mikeyj529, 3
15. dhritspoetry, 3

Keep reading

Cartoon Porn and Why I Have Made Posts

Since people are running away from my blog because I have made comments about cartoon porn and reblogged a post that gave links to people who actually work toward helping CSA victims, I suppose I should explain how it relates to non verbal autism.

Non verbal autistics are sexually assaulted by their caretakers. Not because of cartoon porn, but because the caretakers know we can’t report them in ways that will be believed.

I am tired of people blaming art for the acts of predators. Predators are to blame for their acts and there is NO evidence that looking at pictures turned them into predators.

I have been sexually assaulted by people who are attracted to children more times than I want to list here (or think about) simply because I look like a child and cannot speak. None of them carried pictures of cartoons around, looking at them, before getting the urge to assault me. Nope. And not one blamed seeing cartoons on the “need” to have sex with me. The ones that were arrested didn’t even cite cartoons as their motivation - they cited a lust for childish bodies that they always had. I was a convenient victim because I cannot speak and they misunderstood that to mean I cannot communicate.

It happens a LOT, and non verbal autistics trained through ABA to never say “no” are even more at risk.

Cartoon porn has nothing to do with sexual assault. 

Training your autistic child/ward to accept inappropriate touching has a lot to do with sexual assault.

Stop blaming cartoons for the actions of people with bad intentions - the people would do it whether or not the cartoons exist.





















Stop saying vegans hate everyone who isn’t vegan. It’s not fun anymore.

I don’t hate my family. I don’t hate the man I live with. I don’t hate his family. I don’t hate my friends. I don’t hate my acquaintances. I don’t hate the strangers I meet at the supermarket.

But I do hate it when my brother says “aw, what a cute piggie” and then proceeds to eat the flesh of an animal of the same species. Or when my sister silently teaches her kids there’s nothing wrong with exploiting animals for taste reasons.

I do hate it when the man I live with drinks glass after glass of milk. When he resorts to passive-aggressive nonsense (if buying animal products from small, local brands is as wrong as buying from one of the worst brands, then I guess I shouldn’t bother buying from the small, local brand, should I?) When he shows exasperation every time I get mad at animal abuse in movies.

I do hate it when I have lunch or dinner with his family and they give weird looks at my food while eating carcasses and bodily secretions from abused animals. And in the meantime, they’re watching some cute show about cute animals they care so much about.

I do hate it when I show my friends the horrors that lie behind the food industry, and how we’re using and abusing billions of animals every year, and they play carnist bingo and give me every absurd excuse I’ve heard a million times. I hate it when one of my best friends tells me her partner would dump her if she went fully vegan (by which she means eating 100% plant-based).

I do hate it when I talk to acquaintances about veganism and they come up with more excuses, even if they agree with me that animal exploitation is wrong. Even if I prove to them their reasons don’t prevent them from living vegan. But anemia. But body-building. But convenience. But taste. But yeah, I live in a contradiction and I’ll keep it that way.

I do hate it when I’m paying the cashier and the person behind me puts flesh, eggs, milk and cheese in front of her. I do hate it when I see an old lady wearing fur in the street; a young man wearing leather in the street; all kinds of people wearing leather shoes in the subway.

And I also hate it when vegans act all apologetic. Or when animal groups launch ridiculous campaigns and promote anything less than veganism. Because they’re the only hope those animals have.

I hate what these people do. I hate what these people say. But I don’t hate them. Because most of them are trapped in the social conditioning machine, just like I was.

But I will show no sympathy towards anyone who actually sees what’s going on in the world and says “I don’t care”. Or anyone who mocks animals’ suffering. Once you’ve seen it all, you can’t keep supporting oppression when you have the choice not to. 

So stop telling us to be nice and respect people’s “choice” to enslave, abuse, steal from and kill those victims you so frequently, conveniently forget about.

People on tumblr don’t really care about abuse victim.

They care about abuse victims that fit their stereotype. Woman, victim of a male abuser, hating and mistrusting of all males as a result, possibly not straight, possibly a victim of sexual abuse, feminist, extremely sensitive to slightly harsh tones and in constant need to be coddled and babied. The more you fit that image, the more likely they are to give a shit.

However, as soon as you start to stray away from that, people love to take the “victim card” away from you. Suddenly you are inconvenient, you don’t fit their agenda, so now your experience is in question. Now it’s ok to question whether you really have been abused, now it’s the time to claim that maybe you actually deserved it after all, now it’s the time to claim that your voice is invalid and it’s ok to send you death threats and tell you to kill yourself.

All things that would never be acceptable to do if someone fit their standards, but you? You are not helping them furthering their agenda, so you’re a hinderance. 

Same goes for trans people.

People on tumblr only care about trans people that agree with their ideas, that are blindly accepting of any identity, that don’t question things, that are ok with being fetishized, that are ok with telling all cis people that they are scum and they should die, that are “queer” and not just LGBT,…

As soon as you stray away from that you are a transphobe, a truscum, a gatekeeper, you have internalized transphobia, you are certainly male scum, you want to appease to cis people, etc. It is now ok to tell you to die, to kill yourself, to wish that your transition doesn’t work out, to misgender you, to call you transphobic and sexist insults, to doxx you.

Same for any category really. Disabled people, mentally ill people, anyone in the LGBT community, women, etc. As soon as you stop following the hivemind’s ideals you are the enemy.

Tumblr doesn’t care for minorities or victims. They only care about minorities and victims that are convenient for them. 

That’s not fucking support. That’s like the parents that say they will only love you if you do as they say and fullfill their expectations, or else you are no child of them.

- Sloth

Poetry Tag Statistics January 2015

I DO NOT like the new tumblr post editor. The old one was way nicer.

Anyway, welcome back to Allan’s monthly stats. I was featured a hell of a lot last month myself again actually thanks to the Smiling Goddess and some nice editors. I’m tied for 17. with 4 features. That’s not bad at all.

And once again, I can only recommend to you again to check out the whole Smiling Goddess poetry series:

Or click HERE if you prefer to read in chronological order.

Also, I’d like to use this moment to shout out to sarahmarie-poetry, the only other poet on tumblr I know who writes consistently exceptional sonnets. If you don’t know her already, definitely go over to her blog now.

Total number of featured posts: 393

  • The top 10 contributed 19.8% of all posts.
  • The top 25 contributed 36.6% of all posts.
  • The top 50 contributed 55.0% of all posts.
  • 200 different contributors were featured.
  • Each contributor was featured 1.97 times on average.
  • 77 contributors have been featured multiple times, 123 only once.
  1. uutpoetry, 14
  2. mikefrawley, 9
  3. lzlabs, 9
  4. cherokeeghostwriter, 8
  5. ohlookdonuts, 7
  6. heldinhishands, 7
  7. lookingforwisdom, 6
  8. wordswritteninsilence, 6
  9. wordrummager, 6
  10. esn13, 6
  11. isas-bell, 5
  12. unknowmenclature, 5
  13. poetdeploriate, 5
  14. charliewykes, 5
  15. victim-of-convenience, 5
  16. mermaidsbite, 5
  17. chucklingpecan, 4
  18. dream-tiresias, 4
  19. ladymycroftmansfield, 4
  20. swordofcandy, 4

Keep reading