#which is a direct response to the op | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maxlarens · 1 year ago

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OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

#oscar piastri #f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x driver!reader #oneshots:op81 #driver!reader #Spotify

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 1 year ago

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Beethoven - Symphony No. 5 1808

The Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67, also known as the Fate Symphony, is a symphony composed by Ludwig van Beethoven between 1804 and 1808. It is one of the best-known compositions in classical music and one of the most frequently played symphonies, and it is widely considered one of the cornerstones of western music. First performed in Vienna's Theater an der Wien in 1808, the work achieved its prodigious reputation soon afterward. E. T. A. Hoffmann described the symphony as "one of the most important works of the time". As is typical of symphonies during the Classical period, Beethoven's Fifth Symphony has four movements. It begins with a distinctive four-note "short-short-short-long" motif, often characterized as "fate knocking at the door", the Schicksals-Motiv (fate motif). The symphony, and the four-note opening motif in particular, are known worldwide, with the motif appearing frequently in popular culture, from disco versions to rock and roll covers, to uses in film and television.

The Fifth Symphony had a long development process, as Beethoven worked out the musical ideas for the work. The first "sketches" date from 1804 following the completion of the Third Symphony. It finally premiered in 22 December 1808 at a mammoth concert at the Theater an der Wien in Vienna consisting entirely of Beethoven premieres, and directed by Beethoven himself on the conductor's podium. The concert lasted for more than four hours. The two symphonies appeared on the programme in reverse order: the Sixth was played first, and the Fifth appeared in the second half.

There was little critical response to the premiere performance, which took place under adverse conditions. The orchestra did not play well - with only one rehearsal before the concert - and at one point, following a mistake by one of the performers in the Choral Fantasy, Beethoven had to stop the music and start again. The auditorium was extremely cold and the audience was exhausted by the length of the programme. However, a year and a half later, publication of the score resulted in a rapturous unsigned review (actually by music critic E. T. A. Hoffmann) in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung. Apart from the extravagant praise, Hoffmann devoted by far the largest part of his review to a detailed analysis of the symphony, in order to show his readers the devices Beethoven used to arouse particular affects in the listener.

Beethoven was in his mid-thirties during this time; his personal life was troubled by increasing deafness. In the world at large, the period was marked by the Napoleonic Wars, political turmoil in Austria, and the occupation of Vienna by Napoleon's troops in 1805. The symphony was written at his lodgings at the Pasqualati House in Vienna.

Symphony No. 5 received a total of 94,6% yes votes!

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#finished #high votes #high yes #high reblog #low no #1800s #beethoven #instrumental #o1 #o1 sweep #o1 ultrasweep #o234 #lo24 #lo24 tie #lo2 #lo3 #lo4 #popular

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creekfiend · 2 years ago

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two sorts of responses you can get on posts that go together so well are

1. "um actually op is wrong. it's actually (here follow several paragraphs which are in direct agreement with the sentiments expressed in your post but phrased slightly differently) actually"

and her beautiful wife,

2. "I totally agree with op! (proceeds to write long screed which directly contradicts the post you have written in either letter spirit or both in such a way that you feel immediately compelled to disavow every opinion expressed therein)"

you need both of these for a truly wretched posting ecosystem to thrive

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augustjoy · 8 months ago

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I Can’t Do This.

Sneak peek: Reader is recently off of a long-term undercover operation (similar to Emily’s) that left her in a bad way. Director Cruz reaches out, assigning her to the BAU. After speaking to her therapist and expressing her concerns, they come up with a solution of how to inform her new boss of some of the horrors she endured on her mission. Hotch keeps a close eye on her, being careful not to trigger her…until one day, he accidentally does in the worst way. ITALLICS ARE FLASHBACKS! BOLD ARE THERAPY SESSIONS.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) BAU! Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 5605

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI,YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. age gap (reader is in their 20’s and Hotch is in his 40’s), explicit language, mention of canon typical violence, mention of therapy, reader attends regular therapy sessions, mention of a toxic previous “relationship”, mention of a previous dom/sub dynamic, murder, talk of trafficking, forced consent (reader is working the undercover op) mention of previous abuse and manipulation, some use of y/n, Hotch accidentally triggering the reader, let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Y/n it has been three months since you returned from your undercover op, it’s time. The BAU needs an additional agent, and you’d make a great addition. It’s really not up for discussion.” Director Cruz ended with finality.

“I really don’t think I am ready. Director Cruz, I know it has been three months, and you guys have been so gracious with the paid leave, but I’m still working through everything I went through when I was under.” You explained.

“Your therapist and the FBI issued psych eval have both cleared you to return y/n. You’re joining the BAU. You’ll begin next Monday.” Cruz decided.

“Okay.”

With that you stood and exited his office. It’s not that you didn’t want to work for the BAU, in fact, under normal circumstances you’d have been begging for this placement. But after everything you endured while undercover, you weren’t sure you could handle being on a team, especially not one run by Aaron Hotchner.

“You were recommended to me by Sheri, did she tell you anything about me?” He questioned.

“She mentioned you were looking for someone who knew how to follow rules.” You answered.

You had been assigned to an undercover operation in which a very powerful man would finally be brought to justice. Emilio Alvatorre, one of FBI’s most wanted. This man did unspeakable things and lucky for you, he was in the market for a new submissive. Normally the FBI wouldn’t jump at putting an agent in this kind of situation, however, in this case Emilio was known to keep his subs knelt at his side in his office. That would mean that you would be privilege to information that could take him down.

“So, are you good at following rules?” Emilio said in a voice meant to be sexy, but it was truly repulsive.

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, “The best.”

“I’m worried that Agent Hotchner is going to give me a directive and that I will follow it whether I agree with it or not. I am terrified that I have completely lost myself, and that I will just blindly follow.” You explained.

“Y/n we’ve talked about this, you are strong, you are capable of making decisions and speaking up for yourself.”

“Yeah but being at the BAU with Agent Hotchner, he’s a very commanding and dominant man, what if I fall right back into…” You trailed off.

“He is commanding and dominant, but he isn’t Emilio. I am going to give you some homework, and then I’d like to see you again on Thursday so we can go over it before you join the BAU Monday.”

“You’re right. What’s the homework?” You asked.

“I want you to first come up with a list of coping strategies for when you begin to feel anxious or overwhelmed on the job. Then I want you to write a letter to read to Agent Hotchner giving him some insight as to what you have been through.”

“Absolutely not! Sylvia I can’t do that!”

“Y/n I am not asking you to give him all the details, just a little bit that might help him to know you.”

“Fine.”

You had a hard time figuring out what to put in the letter to Agent Hotchner, debating what was too much versus what was too little to say. How much did he need to know, how much were you comfortable sharing…it was all becoming a bit much.

Ultimately, you’d written something up along with a perfect list of coping strategies that you knew would satisfy your therapist.

After meeting with her on Thursday and going over what you came up with, and allowing her to help you tweak a few things, your body filled with dread, anxiously awaiting Monday morning when you’d have to go into the BAU.

Director Cruz escorted you to the floor that houses the BAU, bringing you into Agent Hotchner’s office for introductions. You felt like you had just walked out on a stage completely naked with the way all the other agents were looking at you.

“Hotchner, this is Agent y/n. I sent over her file last week. She is going to start with the BAU today.” Director Cruz announced.

“Yes, I saw your email. It is nice to finally meet you.” Agent Hotchner greeted.

“Y/n would you excuse us for just a moment, I’d like to speak to Hotch here.”

Without another word you followed the director’s order. You stepped out of the office and stood patiently waiting for their conversation to end.

“She’s anxious.” Spencer mumbled.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Emily replied.

“No, look at her, she’s digging her nails into her palms, a light sweat has broken out on her neck, her heartrate has increased slightly, and she hasn’t looked up at us once. She’s probably suffering from severe anxiety.” Spencer rambled.

“Don’t profile the newbie Spence.” Emily scolded, patting his shoulder.

“Alright, y/n go on in and Hotch will fill you in on what his expectations for you are.” Director Cruz headed off.

With a light knock, you awaited Agent Hotchner’s approval before entering his office once again. Mentally chastising yourself for your submissive actions.

“Agent y/n, please, have a seat.” Hotch gestured.

You sat in one of the chairs across from him.

“It says here in your file that you’re recently returning from a twelve-month assignment. I noticed the assignment isn’t labeled as classified, but quite a bit of it was redacted. Can you speak on that at all?” Hotch inquired.

“Agent Hotchner, if it is okay with you, I have somethings I’d like to discuss. Some of which is relevant of that case, but it is primarily regarding the effects that case had on me.”

“Go ahead.” Hotch nodded.

“The undercover op I was working put me in a position in which I was forced and manipulated to blindly following directions from someone. I had to do this for twelve months, and since then, I have had a pretty hard time finding my voice again. Certain things can be triggering for me, so I wrote up some things for you, with the help of my therapist. There are coping strategies that I may need to utilize and there are somethings there for you, to navigate situations that may come up.” You were worried that this was all going to lead to Hotch doubting your ability to do this job. “I also want to make it known that I told the Director that I wasn’t ready to return to work.”

“Thank you for sharing this, I think it’ll help me to make your transition back to work smooth. As for you being ready, I think you sharing that information shows a lot about your strength and I think you are more than ready to be here.”

“Kneel.” Emilio ordered with a snap of his fingers.

You slowly dropped to your knees, sitting back on your heels and resting your palms on the tops of your thighs, your gaze focused on the frayed rug that covered the hardwood floor in front of you.

“Bring him in.” Emilio spoke into the intercom that connects him to his security.

The guards drag in a man who appears to be near death, clearly beaten. Emilio rests a hand on your head, gently petting your hair before speaking in a tone you don’t recognize.

“I heard you’ve been snooping around. Talking to Jeremy and his guys.” Emilio spat.

“I haven’t sir I swear!” The man was begging for his life.

“I don’t like snakes.” Emilio raised his gun and shot the man point blank.

You couldn’t help but flinch at the sound. A strong hand was quick to grip your chin.

“Flinching is a sign of weakness. I can’t have a pet that is weak.” His grip tightened “Are you weak?”

“No sir.” You reassured.

“Good.”

Working with the BAU had been going well, Hotch had truly been incredible. He’d encouraged you to share your thoughts and theories while on cases. He also reminded you to use your coping strategies when the cases became particularly overwhelming.

Like today for example. The team was working on a case that was taking a toll on you, mentally and emotionally. Women were being kidnapped then brutally tortured and left for dead in the street. It was becoming increasingly difficult to detach yourself from what these women must’ve been feeling.

Hotch was quick to notice the change in your demeanor and he made it a point to assign you with Spencer at the precinct. You were tightening up the victimology while Spencer worked on the geographical profile. You had come to the conclusion that the unsub was targeting victims primarily on their looks, they had all been of similar height, had same color hair and eyes. Worse than that…they all kind of looked like you. The sound of Derek and Emily approaching made your stomach sink. Spencer had clearly picked up on your anxiety since you’d been with the BAU, but the others, not so much.

“Hey guys, what did you find out?” Emily inquired.

“Well, I’ve narrowed down the geographical profile. This area right here…” Spencer gesture to the map covering the screen “this is his comfort zone, all the abductions and dumpsites fall within this five-block radius.”

“What about you new girl?” Derek nudged you gently.

“I looked into all the victims, and they all were approximately the same height and build, same color hair and eyes. I spoke to Penelope; she confirmed that all of the women frequented the same coffee shop.” You explained.

Hotch, Rossi, and JJ all entered just in time to hear Derek confirm your thoughts…which led to a suggestion that made your heart sink.

“Y/n these girls all kind of look like you...” Derek walks over to where their pictures are pinned up to the board. “Maybe we should send you to the coffee shop undercover. It could help us find this guy.”

You heart was pounding, causing a loud whooshing sound to drown out your hearing. You closed your fists and dug your nails into your palms. You could feel the sweat breaking out along your forehead.

In and out…deep breaths. You reminded yourself of the coping strategies you’d come up with for instances like this. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

“Absolutely not!” Hotch commanded, shaking you from your thoughts while simultaneously distracting the others from your very obvious panic attack.

“Hotch man come on! She fits the victimology perfectly; it could end this case if she could catch his attention.” Derek argued.

“It’s not up for discussion. I will not send a new agent undercover, not until she is more comfortable on this team. Undercover ops like that require a significant level of trust, one that she may not have yet.” Hotch shut Derek down.

“We know he must go to this coffee shop; JJ and I could go in and watch. Keep an eye out for a man acting suspicious.” Emily suggested.

“Good, first thing tomorrow.” Hotch said before dismissing the team for the evening.

“Sir, is it safe to be talking about this…with her here?”

“Are you questioning me?” Emilio sneered. “My pet is well behaved. I wouldn’t have her here if I thought otherwise. Who are you to question my decisions?” His voice raised.

“I’m sorry sir! I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I just wasn’t sure.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Now I’ll ask again. What is the update on the shipment?” Emilio demanded.

“There are going to be three crates in the shipping container. The boat is set to anchor Friday at midnight.”

“And everything we were promised will be there?” Emilio asked.

“Well, not the girls. This shipment is just the weapons.”

“Excuse me?” Emilio’s expression turned sinister.

You were knelt by his desk like always. This conversation had been one you were banking on; it was hopefully going to allow your team to pick him and his associates up. Only, this conversation had taken a turn that you weren’t expecting. His shipments thus far had only contained drugs and weapons, so why was he asking about girls?

“I was assured that everything would be included. How fucking hard is it to follow orders?” Emilio shouted, his fist slamming onto his desk.

You sat still, silently taking in the situation. That night you’d check in with your team and fill them in on the new information. You just needed to get the logistics of when the second shipment would arrive, and honestly, you were scared Emilio would kill this guy before you got that information.

“I know boss. They told me that the girls would be here soon. There was an issue getting paperwork for some of them. But it should all be worked out now.”

“I need a date and time. By the end of the day. Otherwise, you’re done.” Emilio hissed. He then brushed his hand over your head. “C’mon pet, let’s go to bed. And you, I’ll be expecting your call.”

Going to bed with Emilio had initially been the worst part of this assignment. Thankfully he’d had you STD tested which meant you were both clean, and he’d ensured you received birth control shots. The sex had surprised you; you had expected it to be rough and painful but, it had been soft and gentle. Emilio whispered sweet nothings to you, and he held you close, and he’d carefully bathe you afterwards.

It may be sick and twisted…but it didn’t bother you, having sex with him.

A light knock at your door had startled you. You made your way over to check the peephole, and there he was waiting patiently.

“Hotch, is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that. Morgan was out of line suggesting we send you in.”

“It’s okay, really. He doesn’t know any better.”

Hotch gave you a sympathetic look. You could tell he was doing everything in his power not to profile you. You appreciated his effort, and it truly was endearing. Around Hotch, you’d started to feel more comfortable, and his consistent care of you and your mental health had been the thing that drew you in. He cared so much, and it meant the world to you.

“You seemed nervous earlier, does that have to do with the undercover assignment you worked?”

“Yes.” You sighed.

In the last two months of being with the BAU, you and Hotch had been teetering this fine line of coworkers and more. It wasn’t necessarily leaning toward something romantic, at least that’s what you were both trying to convince yourselves of but, it had definitely become a friendship. Hotch had allowed you a safe space in which you were starting to feel like yourself again. He had never pushed you for information about your past and he continuously checked in with you to make sure you were comfortable and okay. More recently though, as things like what happened today occurred, you have felt like maybe you should tell Hotch a little more about what you endured.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I am here for you. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like you have to tell me anything! But if you should choose, I’d listen.” Hotch admitted.

“I was sent in undercover to investigate Emilio Alvatorre…” You began.

“Emilio Alvatorre? He was one of FBI’s most wanted! Lucrative arms dealer, importing drugs…I heard he was ultimately brought down for sex trafficking.” Hotch was stunned.

“Yeah, that was me. Emilio took part in a certain lifestyle; he is a dominant and he was seeking a new submissive…and I guess I fit the bill. He essentially owned me, and he referred to me as his pet. It was my job to follow his orders blindly, and I did.”

“What was it like?” Hotch questioned.

“Well…

“Good morning pet.” Emilio purred pressing a kiss right below your ear.

“Mmm, good morning sir. Can I make you breakfast?” You offered.

“No darling, the cook will prepare our meal. I think it is sweet you still ask.” His kisses travelled down your neck.

“Do you have meetings today?” You inquired.

“Today is all about you pet. We are going to get you some new clothes, shoes, and maybe a new necklace. I want to spoil you today! We are celebrating!” Emilio gushed.

It was the moments like this that fucked with your mind the most. Emilio could be so kind and gentle, he wanted to take care of you and in the time you’d been with him, it had been increasingly easier to let him. But then there were moments when he turned dark…the other side of him came to light and you couldn’t help but question your mind.

“Boss…” Emilio’s associate barged into the office, only to find you bent over his desk while he pounded into you from behind.

“Not now!” Emilio growled.

“But boss!” This guy really couldn’t take the hint.

Emilio wasn’t one who took well to being interrupted, in any aspect of his life. So, when this associate decided what he had to say was more important than Emilio’s time…you knew it would be bad.

Emilio’s hips never faltered, not upon the initial interruption and certainly not when he leaned to the side, grabbed his gun, and shot the man standing in the doorway. You pinched your eyes shut, knowing better than to react to the horrific sight before you. Emilio continued thrusting, his grunts becoming more erratic, and when he finally finished, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Go run a hot bath. Get in and wait for me. I need to go see about this issue and get this cleaned up.” Emilio stated as he assisted you in standing upright.

“Yes sir.”

“It was really hard for me to deal with the two sides of him. I became confused and my mind was so foggy as to whether or not he was truly awful. And I know that so much of that is the manipulation of being his submissive, but I was with him for a year, it was easy to forget what things had been like before Emilio.” You trailed off.

“I can’t even imagine all the things you must’ve seen and gone through in that time. I can understand why you weren’t sure about joining the BAU initially…but I am really glad you did.” Hotch expressed, placing his hand atop your own.

“I’m glad I did too.”

The next morning Emily and JJ were sent into the coffee shop that all the victims frequented, and they couldn’t track the unsub. Either he was far too subtle, or he hadn’t shown up. The team was currently in the precinct trying to figure out the next steps, when Derek suggested it again.

“I still think y/n should go undercover, it’s our best bet in finding this guy. What do you say new girl?”

You were taken aback; your mind was screaming at you to decline. You weren’t ready for this, going undercover, blindly following team orders. It’s for the greater good though, isn’t it?

“I could do that.”

“Morgan, I already said it’s not happening. She isn’t ready.” Hotch commanded.

“Hotch, we have all had to go undercover. There is no reason that she can’t go into the coffee shop and order a freaking latte. We will all be there to keep her safe, just like any other case!” Morgan was practically shouting.

“It’s okay. I can do it.”

“Y/n you don’t have to do this. Not if you aren’t comfortable.” Hotch was obviously trying to profile you based on his expression.

“I’m okay. I’ll do it.”

You were ordering a coffee, meanwhile Spencer was sitting in the back of the café reading a book and Rossi was in line, about three patrons behind you. Hotch insisted on sitting at a table just outside the entrance to keep a close eye on everyone coming and going. JJ, Derek, and Emily were all in the surveillance van parked across the street, waiting for the signal.

After you received your coffee, you found a seat at an empty table. It wasn’t long before a man approached you. He was tall and clearly strong; he had a very sinister aura that gave you the chills.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked.

“Oh, sure.” You agreed.

The man sat, but only after he moved the chair closer to you. He was talking to you, but you were having a hard time listening. You were silently begging the guys to come to help and get him away from you.

“You know, you’re really pretty. Why don’t we get out of here? We could go get lunch.” The man suggested.

“Oh, I’m not sure I should.”

“C’mon, be a good girl and get up.” His tone became more aggressive.

You stood up without a second thought, much to the unsub’s delight. He grabbed your arm in a bruising grip and began leading you out of the café.

“They’re on the move. Why is she going with him? This wasn’t the plan.” Derek exclaimed.

Hotch’s demeanor instantly changed. After you opened up to him about your previous assignment, he understood now why you had seemingly always followed orders willingly, only your willingness had been conditioned. Instilled in you through the manipulation of a very dangerous man.

“I got it.” Hotch

Hotch stood up and turned abruptly, purposefully plowing into you and the unsub. He made a move that shifted you away from the unsub and placed himself between you.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” Hotch feigned innocence.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Watch where you’re going asshole. Let’s get out of here.” The unsub reached for your arm once more.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“You want to bet?” he said, pulling a gun from his waistband and pointing it directly at your head.

You didn’t flinch, in fact you didn’t move a muscle. All the while everyone else sprung into action. Hotch tried to talk him down while the rest of the team surrounded him on all sides. You had stood there completely disassociated while this man threatened your life and ultimately met his untimely end via Emily’s weapon.

“Y/n would you please come to my office?” Hotch requested.

You silently followed Hotch to his office. You were wringing your hands, hoping that he wouldn’t reprimand you for your behavior today. You couldn’t handle disappointing people.

“You didn’t even flinch. You had a gun pointed at you and you didn’t even blink. You also willingly left the café with him, which was not a part of the plan we had discussed.” Hotch stated, his tone calm.

“I’m sorry Hotch. He told me to get up and I just…I wasn’t sure what to do. I know we needed to catch the guy.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Hotch admitted. “I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt. I also don’t want you to agree to do things simply because someone tells you to. Like agreeing to go undercover.”

“I don’t know how to do that. Disagree I mean. I’m not sure I have that in me anymore.” You did everything in your power to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Y/n I’m not disappointed. I do think that it is very important you continue to work with your therapist.”

“I will.”

“…and I just stood there.”

“Y/n you we conditioned for over a year to sit still when any sort of firearm was shot, you watched people die right in front of you. You were covered in their blood and forced to remain kneeling until instructed otherwise. I can’t say I am entirely surprised that you didn’t react to having a weapon pointed at you. What does surprise me though was that you agreed to going undercover.” Sylvia finished.

“I knew it was our best option to finding this unsub. I fit the victimology, and I was able to fish him out. It was a no-brainer.” You shrugged.

“Now that sound like someone making a rational decision.” Sylvia smirked.

“Yeah well, after the case Hotch called me out and I felt like a child being scolded. I could barely hold back tears.”

“Why do you think that is?” She pressed.

“I don’t know. I guess, I’m afraid of not being good enough and worse, disappointing him.”

“The only person you should be worried about disappointing is yourself. Y/n you have made huge strides in the last five months and as long as you stay true to yourself, you will continue to do so.”

The months went on, as did the cases and your therapy sessions. Oddly enough, you had started to feel more like yourself. Things with the BAU have started to become easy, you were opening up little by little to the others and you were getting better at making your own decisions.

Hotch had also noticed the change. It had warmed his heart to see you really coming into your own, to really get to know the real you. Which had only strengthened his feelings toward you, causing him to work extra hard to shove them down. Rossi knew simply from the look Hotch gave you, but that’s a story for another time.

The team had been working back-to-back cases all over the country for the last few weeks. It had been exhausting and the team were getting to a point where everyone was snippy. Lack of sleep had led to a horrible lack of patience, and the local officers weren’t making matters any better.

“What if we were wrong, I think the unsub is a woman. I mean look at the attention to detail in the clean up and at how the bodies were presented.” You offered.

“Y/n could be right; a woman would take the time to be precise and it would explain the…”

Before Spencer could finish his thought, Officer Riley decided to provide his own theories.

“There is no way it is a woman. They don’t have the courage to take care of people like this. That’s why the statistic proves that the unsub is a man.”

“With all due respect, women are just as capable of murder as men, and when they do it they are often far more meticulous which is why that fits better here.” You explained.

“Well, with all due respect ma’am, I’ve been doing this job longer than you could walk.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t bother hiding your surprise.

“All I’m saying sweetheart, is that perhaps you’d be better off getting us some coffee.” Officer Riley sneered.

“Last time I checked, I’m the one working for the FBI and not some Podunk little police station in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. So how about you back off and let us finish our…”

“Y/N TAKE A SEAT.” Hotch demanded.

Despite your shock at Hotch’s tone toward you, you took a seat without hesitation.

“Officer Riley, please let my agents do their work. We have much more important things to be doing than arguing about the duties of a woman.” Hotch chided.

“Well, you clearly agree with me given the fact that you gave her an order. If you’d been on her side you’d have probably told me off.” Riley turned to you, “and you clearly do know how to listen to a man in charge. Perhaps I misjudged you.”

With that, Riley made his leave with a low chuckle, and you sat there considering what had just happened. Hotch had commanded you to sit down knowing full well you’d comply, that way he could deal with Riley without you continuing to tell him off. He used what he knew about you against you, despite all the conversations you’ve had with him. Despite him knowing full well your fear of blindly following orders.

“I can’t believe you.” You stood up and walked out, heading straight for the precinct exit.

“Y/n wait!” Hotch followed you.

As you landed on the sidewalk just upon the exit, Hotch’s had made its way around your upper left arm in a desperate attempt to slow you down and hear him out. Only you were in no mood to listen to him or anyone else right now. All you felt was the sense of betrayal blooming in your chest.

As he swung you back around to face him, you did something that shocked even you. You right arm followed around, landing a harsh slap to Hotch’s cheek. Your breathing was ragged, a look of surprise painting your features…a look of guilt flooding Hotch’s.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” You paused.

“No, Y/n I am so sorry I shouldn’t have-” Hotch pleaded.

“I need to go. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” With that you left, calling a taxi, and heading back to the hotel.

“YOU STUPID BITCH! HOW COULD YOU?” Emilio Screamed, lunging toward you.

“Emilio I didn’t, I just…I”

Emilio wrapped his hand around your throat, harshly choking you as SWAT swarmed the shipyard. They quickly made their way to you, removing Emilio from his position over you. As they pulled him away you couldn’t help but watch him.

“Kneel Pet!” Emilio commanded.

You couldn't help but follow his order. Immediately dropping to your knees, resting your hands atop your thighs and letting your gaze fall to the ground.

“I will always own you! You will always be my pet, perfectly broken in!” Emilio hollered as they put him in the back of a vehicle.

“Y/n you’re okay, lets get you up and checked out.” Your unit commander suggested.

Only you didn’t move. You couldn’t get up, not without his permission.

That night, the paramedics had to sedate you to get you into an ambulance. And after that you were placed in a psychiatric facility for 30 days to help undo the brainwashing you’d endured.

“Sylvia, I slapped him. My boss, I slapped him right in the face!”

“Y/n you reacted to a situation and based on what you just explained to me, it seems like he knew he was in the wrong. You shouldn’t be blaming yourself and honestly, you should talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Maybe tell him how you feel.” Sylvia suggested.

You spent the afternoon practicing what to say to Hotch, Spencer had been texting you updates of that case as it progressed. He’d let you know that they caught the unsub and were headed back to the hotel. So, as you opened your door to make your way to his room, you came face-to-face with the man himself.

“Hotch.” You gasped.

“Y/n can we talk?”

You moved aside to allow him access to your room. You couldn’t help but feel nervous about the conversation that was to come.

“Hotch, I am so sorry for slapping you! I was just-”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. Y/n I am so sorry, I heard you going off on Riley and I knew that if you kept talking he’d report you and I’d be forced to suspend you, only I hadn’t considered the effect that me demanding you take a seat would have on you. I need you to know it was not my intention to take advantage of you like that and even worse, I shouldn’t have put my hand on you the way I did. You had every right to slap me.” Hotch explained.

“You were trying to protect me?”

“Riley had made threats of reporting our staff for going against orders of the precinct. I knew that he’d report you for your behavior, despite him clearly being in the wrong. I didn’t want to suspend you.”

“I didn’t realize. But Hotch telling me to take a seat, in the tone you did, it felt like I was right back there. Following orders without thinking. With you, I can’t explain it, I would do anything you asked me to and that terrifies me. My feelings for you only add to that need to do anything you say, to do anything to please you. I can’t help it.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Aaron! Is that all you took from what I just said?”

“Please say that again.” He whispered.

“Aaron.”

He let his eyes close and took a deep breath. You could tell he was holding back and though part of you was begging you to walk away, the other was telling you to jump in. You thought about what Sylvia would say, and you couldn’t help but release a breathy laugh, knowing full well that she would tell you that only you can make the right decision, and it is okay to trust yourself.

“Aaron, I am terrified…and it is going to take me some time to fully trust myself again, but I really like you and if you’re up for it, I’d like to give this a shot. Unless you don’t feel the same way, then please ignore what I just said an-”

Aaron pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. One that told you everything you needed to know.

“I’m scared too, but I want to try this Y/n. I know that you’re still working to find yourself, I am willing to wait if that is what you need, but I am also willing to be by your side every step of the way.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

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kana-daydreams · 10 months ago

Text

if you were a fruit || zoro | fluff | 1k

°*:･ᰔin which you ask Zoro to indulge you with an answer to an age-old question.

tags: sunshine!f!reader. established relationship. suggestive (?)

op masterlist

“Hey, Zoro! If I were a fruit, what fruit do you think I’d be?!”

Zoro who lays somewhere on the upper deck of the Sunny, hands behind him cushioning his head, doesn’t stir from what was a nap cut short by your jubilant voice flooding his eardrums. And still doesn’t when he hears your feet padding closer towards him.

However, your question does earn a barely audible hum in response. And he swears to himself if you weren’t you—the essence of his heart and soul— his reaction to being torn from his nap, would have been anything less than lenient.

Momentarily, a light thud resounds beside him and he feels a soft touch caressing his cheek.

The familiar and soothing feeling coaxes him to crack an eyelid open, head craning to his side to meet your expression brimming down at him with a radiant wide smile.

The perpetual frown carved into Zoro’s features eases into one of unadulterated adoration— one that would be indiscernible to the eyes of any other, but your own.

He then arches a brow, confused. “Why would you want to be a fruit?”

The unforeseen question is one he didn’t expect you to ask, but seemed more like one Lu—

“Because Luffy—”

Of course.

“—told me if I were a fruit, I’d be a potato—mashed potatoes.”

Zoro's face mirrors amusement. “That’s a vegetable. And a dish.”

“Exactly!”

A bubble of laughter leaves your lips, one that tugs at Zoro’s heart and cajoles the corners of his mouth into a tender smile as you recline back until you’re mimicking his supine position.

“I also asked Usopp and Chopper for their opinions.”

“What’d they say?” Zoro asked, interest piqued.

“That I remind them of a mango and a banana.”

Zoro's face scrunches, brows furrowing at the comparisons. But soon, his expression relaxes when he gives it some deliberate thought. And hums, silently approving his friends’ responses.

You indeed had a personality reminiscent of the two fruits: soft and sweet, both on the outside and on the inside.

"And the others?"

You turn to lie on your side, facing Zoro. "They seemed pretty occupied with more important things.” You give Zoro a pointed look, a teasing lilt laced in your voice. "So, I didn't ask."

Zoro huffs at the implication, feigning annoyance. “You already got some answers,” he starts, “Why ask me?”

“Because, I always like hearing what you think,” you respond without missing a beat.

Zoro’s brown gaze meets your own. And he finds it warm like the smile adorning your expression.

A subtle heat rises to his cheeks and he averts his gaze, directing it instead up at the clouds gliding across the sky.

You, his lover, as a fruit?

The thought had never once crossed the swordsman's mind. And was one beyond his imagination.

Not to say, he didn’t mind entertaining you. If it’d make you happy, he would be more than willing to compare you to a fruit. Even a vegetable, like Luffy, if you’d asked.

A comfortable silence descends between you and Zoro while he takes the time to ponder your question, and as he does you search for any recognizable images hidden within the vast white fluff of the clouds.

Zoro thinks and he thinks. And firstly he thinks the image of a pineapple. Like the ones Sanji had used that one time to whip up some refreshments for everyone to temper the sweltering heat of the sun, reminding him of a warm, vibrant sunshine—just like you.

But its spiky shell, not so much.

So, he thinks again.

And this time he thinks peaches. Round and supple. A most welcomed reminder of all the times you shared fervent kisses behind closed doors and the palms of his calloused, large hands would caress the soft plumpness of your a—

Zoro shakes the creeping temptation away.

And thinks again.

And, this time, it clicks. A suitable answer to your question—one he deems most so—reveals itself.

“Plum.”

You perk up at the sound of Zoro’s voice, eyes now pin on him. “Plum?” you parrot, raising an inquisitive brow. “Why a plum?”

“I dunno…” Zoro mumbles. “I guess, because they’re soft on the outside and juicy on the inside. And…” he trails off.

“And what?” You prompt.

A faint red hue tinges Zoro’s cheeks. “And…they’re cute and sweet—just like you.”

Your heart flutters, lips curling up into the widest smile he's ever seen spread across your lips—second to when he'd first whispered his unconditional love for you.

“You really think so?” Zoro nods and your smile brightens impossibly further. “I’m so happy you think I’m a plum!” You beam, shuffling closer to him and pressing a kiss to his lips. And Zoro thinks he should start calling you his little plum from now on.

“I was definitely right about you,” you chirp, unintentionally pulling away just as Zoro is about to deepen the kiss.

He frowns, disappointed by the lost contact of your lips against his, but his disappointment immediately fades away when you drape an arm and leg across him, soft body cuddling into his.

His arms wrap around you, tugging you closer to his larger frame in a gentle and protective embrace. He glances down at you. “Right about what?”

You chuckle. “That you’d be a pineapple if you were a fruit,” you say, recalling Usopp’s question to you.

Confusion mars Zoro’s expression, and at the same time he wonders what led you to that conclusion. “A pineapple? Why?” He voices his thoughts.

You smile a wide smile up at him. “Because,” you drawl, “On the outside, you seem a bit mean and scary. Like a big bad guy.”

Zoro flinches.

Your answer…is not quite what he'd expected. And doesn’t sit right with him. At all.

Was that your impression of him when you two first met? Mean?Scary?

A big bad guy?

Zoro flushes, parting his lips to voice his concern. But, when he hears your next few words, his lips remain sealed as his entire face steams.

“But you’re really sweet on the inside,” you say, voice soft and soothing to Zoro's ears. “Just like I always knew you were," you add as you allow your eyes to flutter close, relaxing further into his comforting warmth. And Zoro only hopes you can’t hear the increasing thudding of his heart against his chest.

#𓇻 kana's op ddrms #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #op fluff #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece x you

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hadesisqueer · 5 months ago

Note

What's your favorite fight in the show?

In RWBY? RWBY vs Ace Ops, no doubt. It's just amazing and it shows how smart team RWBY is and how that gets them the win rather than just going with strength/skill. Like the factors:

The taunting: Harriet and Elm are the clearly the most emotional members of the Ace Ops and very quick to anger, something that Ruby and Yang take into consideration and both of them provoke them with words, which makes the other two act without thinking. “We're the best Huntsmen in Atlas”, “You were, then you trained us” specifically was not only badass but also a genius response from Ruby's part. She then gets to run away and make sure Harriet for sure follows her, driving her away from their teams, which is the smartest move considering she's the only one who could handle Harriet's speed for a while. She then mostly proceeds to stay on the defense rather than straight up fighting her, and lets Harriet tire herself out.

Yang and Blake's team work: The Bees take on the Trees (lmao). At first it doesn't go well, trying to 1v1 and all, but they're both smart enough to see one clear thing: Vine and Elm, rather than working with each other, they keep disagreeing and arguing with each other. So, Blake and Yang decide to do the opposite: work together. 2v1. Take one out first and then the other one. And boy does it work, because the moment Vine is out the other Ace Ops are like "oh, shit" and they realize they're fighting Huntresses, and that they're not playing around. And that sets the tone for the rest of the fight. Then Elm falls hard too lmao.

Weiss VS Marrow: Marrow's semblance is very OP, but it works only on one direction at a time. Which means that the moment they left him against Weiss, the poor guy —who didn't even want to fight and was holding back— was already kind of fucked, because she happened to be the one RWBY member that could fully counteract his semblance with her own. Weiss simply pulled a Freezerburn on her own, creating mist that gave her time to summon (showing how much she'd grown from her fight against Vernal). Then she kept her Arma Gigas and herself and opposite sides. Marrow uses Stay on her? Arma Gigas will attack him. Marrow uses Stay on Arma Gigas? Weiss is free, now she can attack him. She turned the 1v1 into a 2v1, and considering Marrow really didn't wanna fight her or hurt her, it was clear he was going to lose the moment they left him with her.

Weiss and Ruby's team work: Ruby showed up to assist Weiss against Marrow. Instead of choosing to work against them together, Marrow and Harriet argue and disagree with each other, and then Ruby runs and drives Harriet away again in anger. Then, after Weiss has dealt with Marrow, she's the one that shows up to help Ruby again, and kind of takes Harriet out-- well, really, Harriet took herself out, but you know what I mean here. Despite fighting Marrow and Harriet separately (99% on purpose, they were definitely keeping them apart intentionally), Ruby and Weiss were still working together. Harriet and Marrow weren't, because Hare was too blinded by her rage to even consider collaborating with Marrow. Again, the taunting worked.

In any case, genius fight. Team RWBY won not for skills or because they were stronger. They won by using their brains and working together and proved that what they lacked in experience compared to the Ace Ops, they made up for it by being a much better team. That's why it's my fave.

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #ruby rose #rwby vs ace ops #ace ops #vine zeki #marrow amin #harriet bree #elm ederne

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ekingston · 4 months ago

Note

Hi; I don't know if you're still following the word-stream stuff, but the app is back online on the app store as "booktok - books and podcasts". The reviews marking it as having AI scraped data are still on the page itself, even though the name has changed, and duckduckgo still directs to their page if you look up "word-stream audiobooks"-- although if I don't know how long that will last. The website is seemingly gone, but the app still presumably has access to all the stolen works in the database.

Best regards, -someone else whose fics were stolen

yup

word-stream is back

it just calls itself—in an obvious attempt to profit from the TikTok upheaval—BookTok, now. and it’s not just the app, either: the whole website is back online, same as it was just before Cliff Weitzman took it down.

(in case you missed it, here are the original story & the update.)

fortunately (so far) the fanfiction category hasn't been re-added, but if you go to the store page for the app you can see that it’s still using 'fan-created universes' as advertising.

Weitzman didn't register the app under his own name this time, but through something called 'Oak Prime Inc'. hilariously, however, the email address listed in BookTok's privacy policy still refers to word-stream.com, so if Cliff was trying to scrub the connection between Speechify and his BookTok app, he didn't do a very thorough job.

here's the thing (and i'm about to put this up in a separate, more easily digestible post): if you take a look at the terms & conditions of Cliff's other platform, Speechify, it claims a truly comprehensive license to use the works uploaded to that platform in any way Cliff sees fit, including publishing and monetizing it elsewhere. and i keep seeing posts on Reddit and Bluesky from both readers and writers, happily using the Speechify app to read fanfic, advanced reader copies and their own yet-to-be-published work to them.

this is a BAD IDEA. Cliff has already proven that he will take work authored by others without their permission and redistribute it wholesale if he thinks it might make him money.

Cliff is the financial beneficiary of both Speechify and word-stream/booktokapp. it seems pretty obvious to me that he's trying to claim, via Speechify's terms & conditions, that every work uploaded to Speechify is his to do with whatever he pleases, which naturally includes moving them to this other platform so he can charge people for two subscriptions instead of just the one.

thank you so much for keeping an eye on this, anon, and for reaching out!! like i said, another post will go up today about the above, but i'm going to ask you all to help ensure that my posts & my name aren't the only ones giving voice to this message. when i tried to approach people about this issue on social media, often the—completely justified!—response was 'why should I take your word for it?' and Wikipedia only allowed the mention of Weitzman's copyright infringement to remain on his page when 'The Endless Appetite for Fanfiction' was listed as a source.

it can't just be me. DON’T take my word for it. do your own research (i would love to be proven wrong about this!), talk to your friends, engage with posts on social media similar to the ones i mentioned above (those are just some examples, don’t pile on to the OPs!) and make sure people know what they're jeopardizing. help me protect authors from money-grubbing shitheads like this one.

#cliff weitzman #speechify #word-stream #writers on tumblr #ao3 #fanfiction #copyright infringement #fanfic theft #booktokapp #BookTok #text-to-speech #ask me things!#anonymous

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blednokrov · 2 years ago

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I've been having lots of fun designing random OP fusions for a hypothetical AU where people can fuse... Feel free to drop a combo of any two Strawhats in my asks for me to draw a fusion of them (I'm only reading impel down rn so please no spoilers)

More on these:

Mickey (Nami + Franky) - ultimate Big Sibling fusion. She's very balanced in her sense of responsibility, desire to take other under her wing and general "fun but let's keep it sane and safe" vibe. One of favorite fusions of Strawhats as her appearance often means "supervised fun that is otherwise strongly off limits" and they just love her in general. Overall, Mickey's cool, fun and sexy (and not allowed in many public places because she only wears bikini swimsuits). He fights with electrocution.

Didja miss me? Well, now you can look at my pretty face all you want - we're gonna have so-o-o much fun~

U.V. or just Violet (Usopp + Vivi) - the big dreamer one. She is really sweet and emotionally open - probably one of most child-like fusions, but often gets timid and unsure when it's time for her to to stand up for herself. She loves fantasizing and excitedly ranting about all these ideas on how to make world a better place, but goes into very absurd territory without noticing. They fight with a sling and explosives.

No, wait, but listen. But what if The World Government, like, printed money so that everyone can have some, and- No, wait, i don't think this is how economy works. Okay, what if we all just...

Roro (Zoro + Robin) - arguably the most unhinged fusion of them all. With Robin's morbidly creative mind and Zoro's general disinhibition in most generally dangerous situations, Roro is pretty much unstoppable once he set his mind to do something reckless, dangerous and possibly really violent (as they both don't have any qualms about murdering or causing severe bodily harm). However when not in "focused on following through with an insane idea" mode, Roro is actually a rather pleasant company! They're calm, collected and thoughtful, yet shamelessly silly, especially with Luffy and Chopper who they adore. Most of the crew is rather cautious about them (except for Luffy who whines how he misses playing "multiarmed tags" with Roro) because they can cause much trouble without supervision. On the other hand, they're very strong. They fight combining swordfighting with generating extra limbs (which also means an arm slashing you with a sword can sneak on you from any direction).

Oh. I see. How about we send his head- okay, his fingers in a box to his captain as a warning?

Note: Luffy has the privilege of naming all fusions and usually just smashes names together until it sounds like an easy to remember name... Sometimes inner logic of how the name was made is lost even to him

#one piece #art #op fusion au

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luvv4j4ybe11 · 1 year ago

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✫彡𝑴𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑴𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒙𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆ミ★

✧ 𝑵𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎𝑯𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

✧ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚~ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝑫𝑨 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎 𝒎𝒂𝒅, 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅.

✧ 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔~ 𝑴𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕/𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒍 𝒃𝒊𝒕, 𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒕, 𝒍𝒎𝒌 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚<3

✧ 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔~ “𝑰𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒓“ - “𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒌“, “𝒀𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒆“ - “𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅“, “𝑺𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒆, 𝑴𝒂’𝒚𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊̀𝒑“ - 𝒀𝒆𝒔, 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆? ,

You and your party were taking out ships left and right, yipping and cheering whenever they successfully came crashing to the ground.

There was one ship in particular though, the one that lead all of the other ones, so of course it was bigger than all of the over ships you took down.

You could do it, you know you could do it. You know you’re capable of showing the sky people that they fucked with the wrong clan.

So you did.

You flew around the ship, searching for its weak spot. And once you did, you loaded up your bow and fired right at it. But it wasn’t enough.

Without thinking, you jump onto the ship, telling your ikran to stay close to you, but also stay hidden. Once you get onto the ship, you take out all of the soldiers who were firing the guns on top of the ship, robbing them of their grenades and weapons.

After the area is clear, you take the pins out of the grenades and throw them into the engines and into the broken window of the ship, leaping off of the ship once your job is done.

That’s when a feeling of panic rushes through your mate, neteyam. Automatically looking in your direction to see you falling mid-air, instinctively making him drop everything to catch you before you hit the ground. “Y/N!!” He calls, but the loudness of the raid around you being too loud for you to catch onto it.

Right as he calls for you though, he hears your call for you ikran, and seconds later he sees that you’ve safely (for the most part) made it through. A wave of relief hits him, but also anger.

How could you be so reckless? What were you thinking? What if your ikran didn’t come for you? What if-

“Bro! Come on! We’ve gotta go!” Lo’ak shouts, snapping neteyam back to reality.

Oh were you going to get an ear full once neteyam had you.

✫彡ミ★

You and your party all dismount your ikrans, all checking on each other before going to check on everyone else. You walk around anxiously, nerves building the more you couldn’t find your mate.

But once you catch a glimpse of him, your ears perk up and tail sway excitedly, speed walking over to him to make sure he’s alright. Before you approach him though, lo’ak steps in front of you, hands up as if he was holding you away from Neteyam. “I’d be careful if I were you, tey is really pissed off right now and I’m almost positive you have something to do with it.” He warns, tone sarcastic yet serious. You turn your head to the side, confusion painting your features, “What are you talking about, Lo’ak?” All you get in response is a smart-ass, “Bro, really?” Which makes you stare at him, annoyance clear in your face. “Yes, really! What are you-“ “Y/n.” You freeze at the sound of Neteyams voice, knowing that he only sounds like that when he’s really pissed off about something. And the fact that you were what pissed him off made you feel like shit. Lo’ak gives you a look of sympathy before walking off to join kiri and spider. Leaving you to deal with your mate.

“Neteyam?..”you say tenderly,but he doesn’t answer. He just stares down at you with anger apparent in his face, tail swishing back in forth in irritation. Before you can open your mouth to say anything else, he grabs your wrist firmly, tugging you into the direction of your shared hut.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Pulling some reckless shit like that? Do you realize what could’ve happened to you?” All of his questions were rhetorical and angry, but regardless you answered anyway. Knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Reckless? You wanna talk about half the shit you and lo’ak were doing? But when I do something that’ll benefit, our people, it’s a problem?” You retort, slamming your bow back on its stand and throwing your ionar on the wooden table.

“What me and lo’ak were doing doesn’t even compare to what you were doing! That shit you pulled was extremely dangerous and stupid. And why would you even think to do anything like that by yourself when you know your party is right behind you?” He shouts, taking off his own ionar and placing it on the same table you put yours on.

“Really, teyam? I’m more than capable of handling a mission by myself. Of course I appreciate that my party being there but I don’t need them to hold my hand through the whole raid. I’m not a fucking child!” You shout at your mate, officially pissed off because of his attitude.

“You sure as hell acted like one though!, why would you ever think of doing something like that? You could’ve been killed.” He uses his hands to punctuate each of his words, one of the signs that told you he was pissed off and serious about what he was talking about.

“But I wasn’t! Because I know what the fuck I’m doing!”you quip, ears pressed tightly to your skull and tail swishing angrily behind you. He just scoffed walking towards you to lift up your arm, revealing a deep gash from your bicep to your wrist, the sight makes you wince, the pain now hitting you quickly.

“Do you? Because if that was the case then this wouldn’t be here.” His tone is like a dagger in your heart, making you feel as if you’re a burden because of your choice. Your expression softens slightly, ears twitching with every breath he takes and tail swaying low to the ground.

He places your arm back to your side, putting his hand on your lower back and guiding you to the bed and tilting his head towards it, silently ordering for you to sit down.

You obey quickly, wincing when the feathers of your loincloth rub against the cut. You watch neteyam walk over to the corner of your hut to grab the white first aid box that his dad gave him, along with a bunch of other medical supplies and salves, making you anxiously play with the thigh bracelet he made you.

He crouches down infront of you, opening his palm towards you gesturing for you to give him your arm, and willingly, you do.

He cleans the wound gently, even though he was still mad he still treated you like the most precious thing on pandora. It made your heart throb. Knowing that he loves you so unconditionally.

“Teyam..” you say softly, all you get in response is just a glance, one that told you to be careful with whatever you were going to say next. “I’m..i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so reckless and make you worry about me. It was wrong of me to put myself in a position that I knew wasn’t safe, and I knew that would irritate you because I put my life on the line to save our people.” You admitted genuinely, tail swaying anxiously as you awaited his response.

He continued cleaning your wound, humming quietly in response to your apology as he reached into the kit to grab some gauze and a bandage. Your brows turned down and lips pouted outwards when you didn’t get a response from him, a shallow ache spreading across your chest as he still remained silent.

Unbeknownst to you though, he was holding back the urge to both continue yelling at you and hold you close to him while praising you for apologizing to him so quickly. He mumbled a quiet, “hold this,” as he placed your fingers over the gauze, reaching beside him to grab the bandage to start wrapping it around your arm.

While doing so he glanced at you slightly, taking in the almost sad puppy dog look on your face that made his heart twinge in a way that made him sigh softly, accepting the fact that he can’t stay silent forever.

“Yawne,” you’ve never been more happier to hear his voice, subconsciously sitting up straighter to listen to what he has to say, “I know you’re sorry. And I forgive you, but I swear to ewya if you do one more thing that endangers you or your safety, I’ll chain you to the bed so you can never leave this hut again. Understand?” His tone was stern and clear, yet you still giggled at the imagery of him literally chasing you down to chain you down to the bed like a wild animal. “Yes, sir,” you say with a teasing smirk, one that made him giggle quietly as he cupped the side of your face lovingly. Planting a much needed kiss on your plush lips before making his last final touches on your wound.

“Thank you, teyam, I appreciate it.” You added once he stepped away from you to place everything back into the first-aid kit, he turned his head toward you and said a soft “of course, babygirl,” in response as he walked over to the makeshift shelf to place the small box onto.

You sway your feet anxiously as you notice the slight hints of irritation in his body; tail swaying high and slowly, and his shoulders were slightly raised. Your hands placed themselves back onto your thigh bracelet as you watched him reorganize a couple of fallen things on the table norm gave you a while back. Nerves swirl through you as you mentally prepare yourself to ask him a simple question.

“Teyam..”

“Srane, Ma’ yawntutsyìp?”

You inhale deeply before looking down at your hands that were fiddling with the beads of your braclet, exhaling as you finally say, “are you still mad at me?..” you hated how needy and sheepish your voice sounded, but that was the least of your concerns right now.

His brows furrowed at the question; in both sadness because of your tone and confusion, because how could he ever stay mad at his girl?. “Babygirl, come here.” He beckons, making you almost immediately walk over to him.

He lifts you up by your waist swiftly and places you onto the table infront of him, standing in between your legs and cupping your face with his big hands. “I could never stay mad at you. Not even for a day I couldn’t. Even if I was, you know it’d talk to you immediately about it, right?” He questions, to which you respond with a quiet ‘yes’

“and you know I’d never, ever let you feel like you can’t talk to me about anything, right?”

“Mhm..”

“Good. I don’t want my girl to worry about little things like that. You’re the best thing that’s ever happen to me, and I’d never treat you as if you weren’t. I may get mad at you for the reckless things you do, but that anger is all from my concern for you and your safety. Nothing could ever compare to how severely I love and care for you, yawntutsìp.”

You nod in response to his words as tears of joy and sadness spill down your soft cheeks, the reassuring words being exactly what you needed to calm your nerves.“I love you so much, ma’teyam. So so much.” You mutter through your sniffles as you wrap your dainty hands around his wrist to kiss the inside of his hands.

A small giggle comes from him at the gesture, leaning in to kiss your temple, whispering a sweet “I love you too, babygirl,” to you before kissing your lips gingerly.

You hum in satisfaction when you feel his lips on yours, the sound of it making him laugh against your lips causing you do the same before he broke the kiss to pull you into necessary hug. Instinctively making you cling to his bulky frame as if he’d disappear the second you let go.

Without breaking the hug, he picks you up and walks over to the bed, laying down as gently as he could without pulling you off of him.

Once you both get comfortable, content purrs leave you both. “You have to admit though, it was pretty badass right?” You question, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before he answers, letting out a defeated, “yeah..yeah it was, babygirl.”

You chuckled softly at his response, letting a snarky “yeah, I know it was,” to fall from your mouth before letting the wave of sleep finally hit you. The sounds of your beloved mates steady, sleepy breathes lulling you into a deeper sleep.

𝑨/𝑵~ yet another fic that’s been sitting in my drafts for months😭 this is an idea I’ve had for a minute, so I hope you guys enjoy it!! After I’m done writing all my ideas for the avatar fandoms I’m gonna start posting more fics for the cod fandom (mostly the mw2 and mw3 side of the cod fandom) bc that’s what I have the most motivation to write for. So if you’d wanna be added to the taglist for that lmk! Stay safe and stay hydrated, babies. I love you guys endlessly.

𝑫𝒖𝒄𝒆𝒔🫶🏽,

𝑳𝒖𝒗𝒗4𝒋4𝒚𝒃𝒆11

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @tallulah477 , @hotdsworld , @plooto , @blue-slxt , @itchaboi-itchyboy , @xylianasblog , @etherial-moon-blog , @criticallybella , @professional-yapper , @rivatar , @aperiraa

(𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒎𝒌 𝒃𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕! 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 @ 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔💕)

#avatar #luvv4j4ybe11 #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam fluff #neteyam fanfic #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #neteyam avatar #neteyam sully #atwow neteyam #neteyam atwow fluff #neteyam x reader fluff

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