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taasgirl · 5 months

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lover - oscar piastri

summary: y/n is a songwriter who writes plenty of songs however no one realizes that they're made by her (and about oscar hehe)!

a/n: the outcomes of the races are fictional, and the order in which these songs have been written (assume fearless was written this year ygwim?). also no face claim!!

liked by yukitsunoda, oscarpiastri, and 33, 287 others ynusername romance is not dead if you keep it just yours! lovelovelove being able to come home for race day!! i'm so proud of u osc 🩷

oscarpiastri I'm so lucky 🥰 liked by ynusername

user27633 Y/N IS A SWIFTIE CONFIRMED!?!?!

ynusername of course!!

user16372 u literally take the cutest photos of oscar

user82537 y/n quoting paris... i'm so up

yukitsunoda 😆😆

landonorris You're my favourite wag

ynusername wow how considerate

liked by taylorswift, landonorris, and 1, 287, 387 others oscarpiastri Unwinding before Japan 👊

ynusername tehee we're cute

oscarpiastri You're cuter landonorris Get a room

taylorswift ooooh she's working hard @ ynusername

user62584 WHAT THE FUCK ARE U DOING HERE???

user98274 OSCAR IS FRIENDS WITH TAYLOR HUH

user61192 i did not expect to see taylor in the comments of oscar's post tagging y/n!

user92898 no fr like what is going on

user93829 Everyone shut up about taylor look at the beauty that is y/n omd

view ynusername's story...

liked by jackantonoff, phoebebridgers, and 55, 918, 278 others taylorswift In honour of my album 'The Tortured Poets Department' release a week ago, I wanted to thank my biggest musical inspirations! Thank you Jack, Lana, and Y/N for helping me the best artist I could possibly be, without you'd guys I'd be nowhere (thank you y/n for writing the cheesiest, cutest, sexiest songs ever)!!

user51862 who is y/n

user01827 She's dating f1 driver oscar piastri but also now apparently a songwriter idk...

user72973 Wdym thanks y/n for writing?? you're telling me the twitter stans were right??

user62863 y/n is singlehandedly uniting f1 and the swifties

ynusername thank u tay 💓💓

user52868 Girl has been living a double life

user51929 ohhh so this is why taylor was commenting on oscar's post😭

liked by oscarpiastri, taylorswift, and 108, 276 others ynusername well now that the cat is out of the bag, who wants to hear a story? i assume u all said yes.

on one of our first dates, oscar made me a bracelet (yes that one) and i thought (and still think) that it was one of the most romantic gestures. so obviouslyyy i wrote 'lover' about him hehe. yes we only knew each other for at most three months when i wrote it, but i love him so much, he's my forever.

oscarpiastri I love having a singer for a girlfriend (wife one day)

ynusername hello cat boy

user18739 You're telling me that taylor's most romantic song is literally written by my favourite wag about my favourite driver?? i might pass out

ynusername haha yes! i write a lot of songs for tay

landonorris So this song is basically about ur delusions liked by ynusername

user52863 oh now i need to know exactly what songs you've written

user20939 AND PLEASE RECORD COVERS OF THEM TOO

lilymhe wait so you've been friends with taylor the whole time...

lilymhe AND THE SONG THAT I WANT PLAYED AT MY WEDDING IS WRITTEN ABOUT OSCAR?? ynusername oh my god lily HAHA

let me know if you liked this!! i know it's super short but i'm seriously lacking inspo and ideas omd. also i literally love oscar so much.

i'm also working on a few reqs, so if you have a suggestion or request, let me know because i'd love to do it!!

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theygotlost · 3 months

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Video description and transcript:

A skit by sketch comedy group Montessori Boy.

Diego walks into the foyer. JT looks up at him from a notepad he’s reading at the kitchen counter.

JT: Are you writing my eulogy?

Diego looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head.

JT: [reading from the notepad] “We are here today to mourn our dear friend James Helen Tsuchiya. I don’t know if he’s in heaven or hell, but I hope he’s burning”? What the fuck?

Diego: You don’t go through my shit!

JT: You’re the one who left it on the coffee table!

Diego makes mocking “muh muh muh” noises over JT. Julia walks in from another room.

Julia: Oh, is that my eulogy?

JT: You wrote one too?!

Julia: Did you go through my shit on the coffee table?

Diego takes the notepad from JT.

Diego: Stop reading that! it’s my first draft, it’s not good. I got like ten drafts here, and you’re gonna freak out.

Diego begins flipping through the pages. Julia holds up another notepad.

Julia: If he’s gonna read it, I— I’ve got ten drafts too, and they’re really good.

Diego: Okay, let’s do a reading!

Julia: A JT eulogy reading.

Diego: JT eulogy reading, yeah!

Julia: Okay!

JT: [shaking head in resignation] Okay.

Diego jokingly smacks JT on the side of the head. A funeral bell tolls loudly three times. JT, now seated on the couch, buries his face in his hands. The camera cuts between closeups of Diego and Julia reading their eulogies and JT’s reactions. The military funeral song “Taps” plays in the background.

Diego: “JT was impish like a concubine, and had arms like Zaboomafoo.”

Julia: [pronouncing both countries with an exaggerated Spanish accent] “I don’t agree with what he did in Uruguay, or Paraguay, but I think we can all agree on this: JT loved to laugh.”

Diego: “Of course we all know JT by that nickname he hated: Asian Louis C.K.”

JT: [shaking his head] No.

Julia: “JT did insist on an open casket, but guys, just don’t fuckin’ barf.”

JT: No one’s gonna barf!

Diego: “He leaves behind his loving wife Tater Tot, and his son, Chris.”

Julia: “He had a chode—”

JT: [shaking head] No!

Julia: “and it stunk.”

JT: Stop.

Diego: [whispering to Julia] You’re a good writer.

Julia: [whispering back] Thanks.

Diego: [speaking rapidly in a strained, high-pitched voice] “You know, uh, the thing— the thing about JT at the end of the day, it’s like, y-you just talk to the guy and you’re like, uh, y’know, he’s just got this, like, uh, he just, you wanna— you talk to him, and you’re like, ‘okay, well—’”

JT: Don’t read it if it’s not done.

Diego turns his notepad around to reveal his exact statement written as it is above.

Diego: [normal voice] I— I got this whole thing written, I-I-I hadn't memorized this thing.

JT: …Okay.

Julia: “Honestly, I didn’t even really fuck with him.”

Diego: “Raise your hand if you think he was bisexual.” [raises eyebrows in surprise] Wow, all five hands!

JT: Have you guys ever been to a funeral?

Julia: “One time, JT and I were on this plane, in Paris—”

JT: Alright, stop right there. You’re doing the plot of Taken.

Julia: [shouting emphatically] That’s not Taken! I’m telling a story about my fucking friend, JT!

JT: [shouting over her] Yes, you’re going to do fucking Taken! You’re obsessed with Taken!

Julia: “And I got the call that my daughter… was taken.”

JT: That’s fucking Taken! I told you you’re gonna do Taken!

Julia: [shouting over him] No, it’s fucking not! It’s not Taken!

Their shouting becomes unintelligible. The camera turns to Diego, who is waving his arms and making chimpanzee noises.

JT: Stop! Why do you guys think I’m gonna die?

Diego and Julia, in unison: Because of the way you sleep!

The camera cuts to JT sleeping with his head propped up against the point of a large knife, cushioned with a stack of folded paper towels. He snores. Cut back to JT sitting on the couch.

JT: It clears my sinuses.

End transcript.

#i loved this one so much i downloaded and transcibed it. just for YOU.#vid

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kopilot-pop · 5 months

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[New Jeans x Oldest Member! Reader] - #3

-imagine.

Summary: Silly little fics of you and the gorls. You’re basically the tired father figure in their lives.

Warning(s): Cursing, car accident?, bribing a worker?,!crack humor, Hanni has a stalker, you get violent, etc.

A/N: This is like really unserious lmao. I wrote it really lighthearted. Also, this was written over the course of the whole Ador vs Hybe situation. So please understand I’m slowly becoming more unhinged as the story goes.

———————————————————————

You’re strong. I mean physically strong. All of New Jeans, hell, ADOR knows that.

Oh where’s Y/n unnie?; She’s out for a jog.

Unnie is your hand okay?; Yeah, I just had a sparring match today.

That’s just a part of your life.

Fans adore this about you, the girls adore this about you, and today, you’ve come to appreciate this fact too.

Especially when a stalker decided to show his face again at the airport.

It’s been about 2 months since you’ve last seen the man. He went viral on the news (by news I mean Dispatch) for being Hanni’s stalker.

The last time you met him - oh, it was ugly.

He snuck into a performance venue disguised as a staff member. You were the one that caught him lurking near the MC waiting room.

‘Hanni’s supposed to be in there.’

Five. seconds.

That’s all it took for Hanni’s scream to pierce your ear.

The stalker barged into the room, grabbed the girl, and attempted to drag her towards the exit.

You don’t remember much after that scene.

Actually you might remember punching his face something and throwing something him across the wall, but that doesn’t really matter does it?

It mattered alot to Dispatch, who got a hold of the security footage, and decided to share it for the world to see.

The whole situation cause alot of debates of “Oh he’s a stalker. He deserved it. Good job Y/n!” versus “Wow, you didn’t have to get that violent Y/n.”, and in the end, the company decided to put you on a short hiatus and a long scolding from the producer.

Currently, you guys are standing across a crosswalk in front of the airport. The six of you are scheduled to perform in Paris in a few days and decided to get there early to settle in. You all planned a short vacation before having a whole week of dancing after dancing.

So imagine your surprise to see the dirty little freak right between the paparazzis - with a broken camera, might I add - staring at your group.

After acknowledging his presence, you quickly turned to Hanni - hoping that she didn’t notice him yet.

Unfortunately, you were too late.

Hanni’s body was slightly shaking and you could see the fear in her eyes as she stares directly towards the area where the stalker is.

Instinctively, you rushed to her side, and held her waist with your arm.

“I’m not letting him get to you, bub.”

“I.. oh you saw him too?”

“Mm-hm, and I’ll sucker-punch him if he tries to touch you again, alright?”

Hanni giggles, “Nooo, I don’t want you to be stuck in our dorms again!”

“I think it’ll be worth it if I get to break his nose this time, no?”

Minji - overhearing your conversation - butts in.

“Please don’t break anybody’s nose today unnie.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Minji gives you a skeptical look and you give her an innocent smile.

When the crosswalk light turns green, the whole group starts to walk through the group of people, as security tries to make enough room for you guys to pass.

The six of you were just about to manage through the gates when Hanni’s pained scream cuts through the air. You snap your head towards your right to see the same stalker gripping a fist-full of her hair.

And in just a millisecond, a loud crack replaces the girl’s scream.

The paparazzis’ cameras went wild with flashes - all trying to capture how you grabbed the man by his collar and slammed your fist right into his nose. Your pupils were blown wide, piercing right through the stalker writhing on the floor.

“Y/N!!”

Minji was the only one quick enough to snap out of her shock and grab onto you before you could attempt to break anymore of his bones..

Yeah, guess you’re not making it to Paris.

———————————————————————

“UNNIE!! Look at this!!”

Danielle happily skips over to the rack filled to the brim with different bunny plushies. You, her and Haerin all decided to go to a state fair that was happening only an hour away from the hotel.

Technically, you were dragged here by the two of them, but that doesn’t matter.

You watched as the girls looked through the pile of plushies while sipping in your smoothie.

‘Is this what parenthood feels like..’

When the two of them finally chose a bunny they liked, they simultaneously looked over to you… expectingly..

“What. Wait. I already bought us food?”

They nod.

“And hats, I bought us three hats.”

They nod, again.

They’re now directly under your nose, giving you those big puppy eyes. Sweat drips down your back, and it’s definitely not because of the Texas heat.

With a exasperated sigh, you reach into your back pocket and take out your card.

“Excuse me, how much for two of those plushies?”

“Oh, so sorry, but those aren’t for sale. You have to win 50 tickets to win two of them!”

The worker gives you a smile and continues helping out a family near the shooting range. When you turn around, Danielle has a clear pout on her face.

“Aww.. I thought I could buy them..”

“Not you, I could buy them.”

“Potato po-tah-to.”

For a moment you think of the choices you have. It’s either waste cash on a rigged shooting range, give up on the plushes, and.. oh.

“Can the two of you get wait in line for the bucket of cookies over there? Here-”

You hand over a 20$ bill. Danielle squeals happily and Haerin finally has a tiny smile on her face. The older girl grabs her hand and runs towards the stand.

As soon as they turn their backs on you, you slither over to the worker again.

“I need the plushies.”

“Wha- oh it’s you again. Look man, we have a policy that we can’t sell the prizes for c-cash.. wha..what is that..”

You quickly tuck a 100 dollar bill into his front pocket and give him an innocent smile.

“Dude, this isn’t a drug deal, I- ugh, fine, I’ll grab you the fucking plushies”

“Thank you :D”

You carry the two bunny plushies in your arms and a giant teddy bear the man gave you in return for a signature to give to his sister.

You awkwardly walk towards your groupmates while balancing the giant furball on your back.

“Y/n unnie!!! Oh my god! What is that?!”

Danielle looks clearly surprised, but you can tell she’s having a hard time containing her smile. Haerin’s trying her best to help you with the teddy bear.

“I.. uh…-holyshitthisisheavy- I hit the jack pot! Yeah, jackpot….”

You give them a toothy grin, not noticing the group of people taking photos of the three of you, and definitely not realizing the absolute fever Twitter is having over the pictures.

———————————————————————

“I’m telling you guys, nothing’s gonna happen-”

A loud scream cuts off Minji as a ghost jumps out from the wardrobe.

Hanni and Danielle screams louder than the ghost, and runs into your arms in fear. You turn around to see Minji in the same situation as you - just with Hyein.

“Nevermind…” Minji rolls her eyes as the actor scurries off to a different room.

But her nonchalant behavior doesn’t last long when something under the bed grabs her ankle. She screams and - quite literally - jumps into your arms.

“WHY DID YOU CHOOSE A HAUNTED HOUSE FOR YOUR BUCKET LIST.”

The moment you let down a wide-eyed Minji, Hanni grabs your collar and shakes you; Pretty sure she’s trying to get revenge, but having absolutely no impact.

“Ack- I thought it would be fun..”

“FUN?! YOU THINK GHOSTS AND DEAD PEOPLE ARE FUN???!!!”

While Hanni growls at you with tears in her eyes, Haerin bravely opens the next door, only to be met with a doll dropped right in front of her face.

The shock causes her to let out a scream-

‘My ears are ringing.’

which you never expected from her - and run towards you to use your body as a shield.

“ALRIGHT, you guys stand behind me, and I’ll open all the doors, okay? That way I’m the one being threatened by the next ghoul or whatever…”

The girls nod their heads in unison. Hanni finally lets go of your collar to grip onto your left arm.

You cautiously kick open several doors, trying to find the exit, and on the third try you finally find another long corridor with a glowing exit sign at the end. The 6 of you slowly walk towards it but freezes when the buzzing sound of a chainsaw starting echoes from behind.

You’re the only one brave enough to turn around and see the clown standing in the middle of the room you guys just left.

“Okay, don’t panic but there’s a clown-”

The girls scream in unison as they sprint towards the exit like their life depends on it. You follow suit, and use your body to bust down the last door.

The whole group falls toward the ground together, and the younger girls naturally grab onto you, tightly closing their eyes in fear.

“Um… Congrats…?”

When you see the employee standing behind the counter, you sigh in relief that the haunted house is over.

“Guys, we escaped the house.”

They finally detach from you to take a look around their surroundings.

“Oh! Well that was nothing.” Hanni scoffs confidently, causing everyone around her to let out a deep sigh.

———————————————————————

“We got into a car accident.”

“WHAT?!”

You jump up from the bed - almost dropping your phone - and check the contact name again.

“Yeah, I think Haerin unnie has a concussion.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.”

You quickly put the phone on speaker and fumble around to find your jacket.

“Yeah.. so since Haerin unnie got her license we decided to take your car out for a drive..”

“Wait, wait- MY CAR?!”

“Yeah, you said we can take it out whenever we want? Anyways, we decided to go to the beach… but the road was really messy, I think my phone is glitched, unnie.”

“HUH?!”

“We kinda went down this hill… blah blah blah… we hit a telephone poll- blah blah….”

“Oh my god.”

You rush out the door to the location Hyein has told you. When you arrive, you spot the girls and your BMW M3 that you recently acquired after begging your uncle for 3 months to sell it to you.

With a quick glance you can tell that - thankfully - the car is only a little scratched up, so you immediately turn your attention to the girl curled up in the driver’s seat.

Haerin’s head is against the handle with both of her arms covering her face. Her knuckles are almost white.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

The only response you receive is a tiny groan from the younger girl.

“Hyein said you might have a concussion? Can you look at me sweetheart?”

“She’s been like this the whole time.” Hyein chimes in.

“The car can be fixed, it’s fine, just a scratch. But it’s more important to me if you’re fine, bub.”

With that a few seconds of silence passes and you finally get a tiny ‘I’m okay’ from Haerin.

“Alright then, let’s move you to the backseat so I can drive us to the hospital, okay? Hyein, get in the passenger seat.”

“Hell yeah! Shotgun!!”

You carry Haerin to the backseat, but as you try to get her seatbelt on, you finally notice the frown on her face.

“Haerin, I’m not disappointed you guys took my car out. I told you guys you’re free to do that. However, I am upset that you guys weren’t careful and got hurt. Okay? We can talk about that after we check if the two of you are fine.”

“What- me too?”

“YES, YOU TOO. YOU WERE ALSO IN THE CAR!”

Hyein pouts at your disbelief. You sigh and give Haerin a peck on her forehead, and hurry to your seat to get to the hospital.

“Put your seatbelt on bub, I’m speeding to the ER.”

“W-wait, you just told us to be caref-AHHH!!”

———————————————————————

A/N: This was fun to write lol.

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finelinefae · 7 months

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soft

synopsis: girls with cute tummies and soft thighs and extra chub in different places can also date hot popstar boys okay? okay.

word count: 2.1 k

contains: plus size reader, non au harry, fluff, mentions of body image and insecurities, harry being obsessed with his girlfriend

A/N: the start of a new thing called 'soft girl sundays' which I'm starting !! i wrote this for wp a few months ago but it's one of my fave things I've written so I'm re-posting it here. it's cheesy and fun and harry's obsessed with his girl !! i know for a lot of us girlies sometimes it feels like we take up too much space and we're always made to feel smaller mentally, physically, in every way really but you have much of a right to be here as everyone else so take up alllll the space u need !! women are beautiful and majestic no matter their size 💘

. . .

My girls' in the audience tonight.

I look past the curtain across the stage and see her in the VIP section.

Even without the stage lights shining on her, she's glowing.

She's wearing a shirt with my initials stitched over her heart and every time she lifts her arms, I see her soft tummy and the dimples on her back when she spins. Her thick thighs are on show as she wears the smallest pink skirt known to man. Her hair falls past her shoulder and down her back and her cute cheeks turn pink as she smiles when she speaks to some of the team who stand with her.

She's the living embodiment of the divine feminine and I can't ever seem to get over the fact that she's all mine.

The music begins to play and I watch as her face lights up with excitement. She's seen this show over a few dozen times but she never fails to be just as excited as the first time she saw me walk on stage with a hickey on my neck that she'd put there moments before.

When it's my queue, I skip onto the stage and my ears nearly burst as the sound of people screaming over the music starts to fill the stadium. She's smiling, she's cheering, she's singing the words to every single song. She's so pretty and she's all I see.

When the show ends, I walk backstage to my dressing room. Normally I'd run into a car and get the Hell out of there before crowds of people start to fill up the streets to get home, but this time, Y/N was here and I knew how much anxiety she felt whenever we had to rush to be somewhere.

I walked in and accepted the compliments from my team after another successful show. Paris was a city I held close to me so it was always a fun time when we played.

I gulped down a glass of water and felt arms snake around my waist. I immediately grinned when I saw the lilac-painted nails that matched my very own. I feel her nuzzle her face into my back before I twist in her embrace and look into the eyes of the girl I love with everything in me.

"Hi baby," I whisper, stroking her cheek that still had glitter on it.

"Hi Harry," Y/N murmurs, her eyes tired but full of happiness.

"Y' okay?" I hold her, feeling her soft skin beneath my hand. She was so soft and cuddly.

"I'm okay." She smiles, lazily. "You did so good up there. I nearly cried,"

I laugh, "You always nearly cry."

"That's because I'm proud of you." She shrugs.

We sit on the couch and she straddles my lap, her skirt riding up and I nearly choke when I catch a glimpse of her lacy underwear. I put my hands on her thighs and squeeze them softly. "You excited for our trip tomorrow?" I asked, staring at her lips and suddenly feeling the temptation to kiss them. I did and she happily accepted.

We had a few days before the next show so we decided to head down to the South of France and spend a few days in Nice. We haven't been on a trip together in a while other than the tour locations so we made the most of the little time we had in between shows to spend as much time as we could together.

She nods, "I bought a new swimsuit just for the occasion."

I groan, my head falling back against the couch, "You kill me."

She giggles, "love you."

I immediately smile. "I love you too," I kiss her.

The morning after the show, we woke up early to make our flight down to Nice. Y/N whines the entire time because she's not a morning person and refuses to step one foot out of bed until I force her.

She sleeps on my chest the entire journey there, wearing an oversized hoodie with the hood up. "My whole heart is inside y'." I murmur as her cheek presses against my chest and makes her lips all pouty, light snores falling from them. I lightly push some of her baby hairs back from her face and trace my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

We arrive and head straight to our room at the hotel to drop our bags off before heading to the beach. Y/N immediately opens the doors to the balcony and gasps when she looks out at the view. "Harry, it's beautiful," Y/N says in awe.

I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her tummy, squeezing the softest part of her. I loved all the parts of her but her tummy was my absolute favourite. She always complained about it. How it stuck out when she wore tight clothing and even more so after eating. 'Harry I already have a tummy? Why punish me further by making it bigger after I eat? Seems unfair don't you think?' I'd spend the whole journey home telling her how beautiful she looked and how I loved watching her enjoy the food she loves and then I'd hold her in bed and run circles on her little, bloated belly because I had made it my life's mission to show as much love to the little chub of a tummy she had.

I pull on my swim shorts and a white linen shirt, leaving the buttons undone. I pack my beach bag for our beach towels and my book as well as my film camera and sun lotion.

Y/N walks out of the bathroom. Her hair in loose curls from the heat and her face already sunkissed and pretty. My mouth falls open when I take in the small, blue bikini on her body, revealing her soft curves and every perfect inch of her.

"Do you like it?" She blushes, acting like she's not the hottest girl I've ever seen in my entire life.

It tied at her waist and around her neck, my immediate thought being how easy it would be to take it off her and spend the entire day in bed, making out or whatever. I honestly couldn't care less as long as she's there.

"Baby," I dropped the bag on the floor and made my way towards her, pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilting her head back so I could kiss her at the perfect angle.

She whines and the sound nearly has me dropping to my knees. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"You really think so?" She bites back a smile, "You don't think I need to hide my stretch marks?" My heart aches at how unsure she sounded, the fact she even had to ask made me want to pick her up and kiss each stretch mark on her body.

"No, my love," I shake my head, kissing the stretch marks at the top of her left breast and feeling her heart racing at the delicate touch. "You have absolutely nothing to hide from anybody. Y' beautiful and you're mine,"

She smiles and kisses me again.

We head down to the beach to the reserved sunbeds. Y/N lays out her towel and sits down to apply sun cream to her arms and legs. I help her do her back, massaging her shoulders and trying not to combust as she rolls her head to the side and moans at the feeling.

I literally have a crush on this woman.

And she's my fucking girlfriend.

What did I do to get this lucky in life?

"Let's go in the water baby," I held her hand and we walked to the water, stepping in together.

She wraps her arms and legs around me when we're deep enough in the water. I squeeze her ass and she gasps, swatting me gently. "What?" I look at her innocently.

"There's people watching." She hides her face in my neck and I turn us both around to catch sight of the paparazzi hiding behind the trees and snapping pictures of us.

I release a sigh and pull her face back to get a better look at her. If there was one thing that could make my girlfriend second guess herself, it was the paparazzi constantly posting her pictures online and allowing people to berate her for how she looked.

"Please don't let them ruin your day my love," I kiss her shoulder, still holding her in my arms. "I promise, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"You promise?" She pouts.

"Feel this," I reach for her hand and guide her to the small bit of chub on my hip.

She gasps, "You have chub too!"

I rolled my eyes but smiled at the same time, her excitement was adorable. "Everyone's got something they're insecure about. No matter how hard I've tried I can't seem to get rid of it, maybe it's from all the cakes you've been making but how am I meant to say no to such a pretty face?"

She squeals in delight when I pinch her sides and giggles as I press kisses to her face. "Wanna go and sunbathe for a little, baby?" She nods and we both walk out of the water so she can sit in the sun for a bit.

I spend more time in the water and come out to find Y/N verging on the brink of sleep. I smirk as I crawl between her legs and lay between her thighs, sighing softly as I turn my head away from the sun and press a kiss to her inner thigh. She reaches down and runs her fingers through my wet hair, her nails scratching my scalp.

After midday, I order food to be sent up to our room. Y/N's passed out on the sunbed so I gently shake her awake, "Hi baby," Her pretty eyes flutter open, "Need you to drink something darling, you've been in the sun for a while." She slowly sits up and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. I unscrew the cap of the water bottle and pass it to her, watching as she almost drinks the whole thing.

"I got us room service to be delivered. Want to head back upstairs for a bit?" Her cheeks were red and her hair was all frizzy due to the humidity. She nodded and we packed our things up and made our way back to our hotel room.

Our food was already laid out on the balcony by the time we walked into the room. I had left the air conditioning on so the room was nice and cool since Y/N struggled to sleep when it was too hot and stuffy.

She was wearing my linen shirt over her bikini and I couldn't help but stare at her ass as I followed her to the table outside.

There was fruit, bread and pastries laid out on a spread at the table as well as a glass of red wine and some orange juice. Y/N sat on one of the chairs with one leg hitched up as she ate some of her baguette and cheese, her favourite snack to eat when we were in France.

"Are you having fun, my love?" I asked, taking a bite of fresh watermelon.

She nods quickly, "It's the best. Anytime with you is always the best,"

"Come sit here," I motion and move my chair out, patting my thigh. She doesn't hesitate and stands up to sit down on my lap.

I kissed the back of her neck and put one hand on her hip, my thumb traced the edge of the waistband of her bikini bottoms, slipping under the material to trail soft circles over her hip bones.

"I'm keeping you forever, I hope you know that," I murmur, appreciating this intimate moment between us which didn't happen as often as I liked them to but we made do.

"I hope so," She whispers.

I loved this girl for all she was. There is nothing in this world that could change just how much I adored her.

"Harry," She says my name, "This bikini is pretty easy to take off you know."

I choke, eyes widening and seeing the smirk on her face. I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me and her ankles locking behind my back. "Is that a challenge or a request?" I kiss her lips, tasting the saltiness of the sea on them.

"Both," She says in between kisses.

This girl.

#softgirlsundays #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #writing #fic rec #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Supervised AI isn't

It wasn't just Ottawa: Microsoft Travel published a whole bushel of absurd articles, including the notorious Ottawa guide recommending that tourists dine at the Ottawa Food Bank ("go on an empty stomach"):

https://twitter.com/parismarx/status/1692233111260582161

After Paris Marx pointed out the Ottawa article, Business Insider's Nathan McAlone found several more howlers:

https://www.businessinsider.com/microsoft-removes-embarrassing-offensive-ai-assisted-travel-articles-2023-8

There was the article recommending that visitors to Montreal try "a hamburger" and went on to explain that a hamburger was a "sandwich comprised of a ground beef patty, a sliced bun of some kind, and toppings such as lettuce, tomato, cheese, etc" and that some of the best hamburgers in Montreal could be had at McDonald's.

For Anchorage, Microsoft recommended trying the local delicacy known as "seafood," which it defined as "basically any form of sea life regarded as food by humans, prominently including fish and shellfish," going on to say, "seafood is a versatile ingredient, so it makes sense that we eat it worldwide."

In Tokyo, visitors seeking "photo-worthy spots" were advised to "eat Wagyu beef."

There were more.

Microsoft insisted that this wasn't an issue of "unsupervised AI," but rather "human error." On its face, this presents a head-scratcher: is Microsoft saying that a human being erroneously decided to recommend the dining at Ottawa's food bank?

But a close parsing of the mealy-mouthed disclaimer reveals the truth. The unnamed Microsoft spokesdroid only appears to be claiming that this wasn't written by an AI, but they're actually just saying that the AI that wrote it wasn't "unsupervised." It was a supervised AI, overseen by a human. Who made an error. Thus: the problem was human error.

This deliberate misdirection actually reveals a deep truth about AI: that the story of AI being managed by a "human in the loop" is a fantasy, because humans are neurologically incapable of maintaining vigilance in watching for rare occurrences.

Our brains wire together neurons that we recruit when we practice a task. When we don't practice a task, the parts of our brain that we optimized for it get reused. Our brains are finite and so don't have the luxury of reserving precious cells for things we don't do.

That's why the TSA sucks so hard at its job – why they are the world's most skilled water-bottle-detecting X-ray readers, but consistently fail to spot the bombs and guns that red teams successfully smuggle past their checkpoints:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/investigation-breaches-us-airports-allowed-weapons-through-n367851

TSA agents (not "officers," please – they're bureaucrats, not cops) spend all day spotting water bottles that we forget in our carry-ons, but almost no one tries to smuggle a weapons through a checkpoint – 99.999999% of the guns and knives they do seize are the result of flier forgetfulness, not a planned hijacking.

In other words, they train all day to spot water bottles, and the only training they get in spotting knives, guns and bombs is in exercises, or the odd time someone forgets about the hand-cannon they shlep around in their day-pack. Of course they're excellent at spotting water bottles and shit at spotting weapons.

This is an inescapable, biological aspect of human cognition: we can't maintain vigilance for rare outcomes. This has long been understood in automation circles, where it is called "automation blindness" or "automation inattention":

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/29939767/

Here's the thing: if nearly all of the time the machine does the right thing, the human "supervisor" who oversees it becomes incapable of spotting its error. The job of "review every machine decision and press the green button if it's correct" inevitably becomes "just press the green button," assuming that the machine is usually right.

This is a huge problem. It's why people just click "OK" when they get a bad certificate error in their browsers. 99.99% of the time, the error was caused by someone forgetting to replace an expired certificate, but the problem is, the other 0.01% of the time, it's because criminals are waiting for you to click "OK" so they can steal all your money:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/ema-report-finds-nearly-80-130300983.html

Automation blindness can't be automated away. From interpreting radiographic scans:

https://healthitanalytics.com/news/ai-could-safely-automate-some-x-ray-interpretation

to autonomous vehicles:

https://newsroom.unsw.edu.au/news/science-tech/automated-vehicles-may-encourage-new-breed-distracted-drivers

The "human in the loop" is a figleaf. The whole point of automation is to create a system that operates at superhuman scale – you don't buy an LLM to write one Microsoft Travel article, you get it to write a million of them, to flood the zone, top the search engines, and dominate the space.

As I wrote earlier: "There's no market for a machine-learning autopilot, or content moderation algorithm, or loan officer, if all it does is cough up a recommendation for a human to evaluate. Either that system will work so poorly that it gets thrown away, or it works so well that the inattentive human just button-mashes 'OK' every time a dialog box appears":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/21/let-me-summarize/#i-read-the-abstract

Microsoft – like every corporation – is insatiably horny for firing workers. It has spent the past three years cutting its writing staff to the bone, with the express intention of having AI fill its pages, with humans relegated to skimming the output of the plausible sentence-generators and clicking "OK":

https://www.businessinsider.com/microsoft-news-cuts-dozens-of-staffers-in-shift-to-ai-2020-5

We know about the howlers and the clunkers that Microsoft published, but what about all the other travel articles that don't contain any (obvious) mistakes? These were very likely written by a stochastic parrot, and they comprised training data for a human intelligence, the poor schmucks who are supposed to remain vigilant for the "hallucinations" (that is, the habitual, confidently told lies that are the hallmark of AI) in the torrent of "content" that scrolled past their screens:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

Like the TSA agents who are fed a steady stream of training data to hone their water-bottle-detection skills, Microsoft's humans in the loop are being asked to pluck atoms of difference out of a raging river of otherwise characterless slurry. They are expected to remain vigilant for something that almost never happens – all while they are racing the clock, charged with preventing a slurry backlog at all costs.

Automation blindness is inescapable – and it's the inconvenient truth that AI boosters conspicuously fail to mention when they are discussing how they will justify the trillion-dollar valuations they ascribe to super-advanced autocomplete systems. Instead, they wave around "humans in the loop," using low-waged workers as props in a Big Store con, just a way to (temporarily) cool the marks.

And what of the people who lose their (vital) jobs to (terminally unsuitable) AI in the course of this long-running, high-stakes infomercial?

Well, there's always the food bank.

"Go on an empty stomach."

Going to Burning Man? Catch me on Tuesday at 2:40pm on the Center Camp Stage for a talk about enshittification and how to reverse it; on Wednesday at noon, I'm hosting Dr Patrick Ball at Liminal Labs (6:15/F) for a talk on using statistics to prove high-level culpability in the recruitment of child soldiers.

On September 6 at 7pm, I'll be hosting Naomi Klein at the LA Public Library for the launch of Doppelganger.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

West Midlands Police (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/westmidlandspolice/8705128684/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

#pluralistic #automation blindness #humans in the loop #stochastic parrots #habitual confident liars #ai #artificial intelligence #llms #large language models #microsoft

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menlove · 2 months

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paul breaking down before performing god only knows with brian wilson, because it's his favorite song. the song john had two lovers fuck to when they met in paris at the hotel him and paul stayed at. the song that inspired here, there, and everywhere which paul wrote while waiting for john to wake up and wasn't about jane. which is to this day his favorite song he's ever written. which was john's favorite song paul's ever written. which paul mentions when he talks about why it's his favorite song he's ever written. and he broke down. before performing god only knows. which was-

#ikehdjwhssh literally the worst song ever to me bc of those two goddamn clowns I can't listen to it #me in blissful ignorance two months ago: able to listen to god only knows #me now every time it comes on: the stars aren't above him anymore :)

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bucky-boo-bear · 2 years

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✪ Main Masterlist ✪

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Miscellaneous Masterlist

#steve x bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader #loki x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda x nat x reader #wandanat #wanda x natasha #pari's wrote and written

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hard--headed--woman · 4 months

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Hello and happy Pride Month everyone ! 🏳️‍🌈

As promised, I am going to talk about an important lesbian in history everyday. And this first post is about one of my favourite :

Renée Vivien !

I have seen some people talk about her here but she clearly isn’t as famous as she should be, and she deserves way more recognition!

Renée Vivien, whose birth name is Pauline Mary Tam, was a British writer poetess, who wrote her poetry (and most of her works) in french ; born in 1877, she died in 1909, at only 32 years old.

Renée was openly a lesbian, and she never tried to hide it despite the society she lived in being extremely homophobic and considering homosexuality as an illness. In her poetry, she mentions her love for women a lot, and wrote a lot of love poems for several of her lovers. This even earned her the nickname “Sappho 1900”. ("Sappho 1900, Sappho cent pour cent").

Of Sappho, she was by the way a huge fan : in 1903, she published the work "Sappho", in which the poet's Greek texts are followed by a French translation, as well as verses by Renée Vivien, which thus "completes" the remaining fragments of Sappho's writings. This collection greatly helped to anchor Sappho's work and her identity as a lesbian woman in our culture.

Her work consists of :

Twelve collections of poems, totalling more than 500 poems

Several translations of Greek poetesses (including Sappho)

Seven books of prose

Around ten novels (written under various pseudonyms)

A posthumously published collection of short Gothic tales (written in English this time)

A book about Anne Boleyn's life

It is also possible to read her diary and the letters she exchanged with her lovers, friends and other personalities of her time, including Natalie Clifford Barney, Colette, Kérimé Turkhan Pacha and others.

Pauline studied both in Paris and in London, then decided, once she came of age, to come and settle in Paris. She published her first collection,"Études et Préludes" in 1901, under the pseudonym R.Vivien. This pseudonym later became René Vivien (the male version of Renée) then Renée Vivien, the name under which she will be remembered. We can easily guess that she first chose these neutral then masculine pseudonyms to be able to write and be published despite the misogyny and homophobia of her time, especially given the themes exploited in her writings.

Sadness, death, ancient Greece, love, despair, solitude and love are the most recurrent themes in Renée's poems. There is actually a poetry prize in her name, the Prix Renée Vivien, which rewards poets whose themes and style are close to those of Renée Vivien.

Among Renée's best-known lovers is Natalie Clifford Barney, a famous writer and poet, with whom she had a relationship for several years before leaving her, tired of her infidelities. It is said that Natalie never accepted this breakup and tried until the end to get her back by all means, sending her love letters even years after.

Renée then had a relationship of more than six years with the rich Baroness Hélène de Zuylen, married and mother of two children, with whom she traveled extensively around the world and collaborated on the writing of several works (under the collective pseudonym Paule Riversdale). In a letter to her friend Jean Charles-Brun, Renée admitted that she considered herself married to Hélène.

While still living with the Baroness, she received a letter from a mysterious admirer, Kérimé Turkhan Pacha. What followed was an intense four-year epistolary relationship, interspersed with brief clandestine meetings. In 1908, however, Kérimé, the wife of a Turkish diplomat, put an end to their relationship when she had to follow her husband to St. Petersburg. This break-up probably contributed to Renée's tragic end.

The writer was in deep psychological distress, which only worsened from 1908 onwards. Alcoholic and suicidal, she began refusing to eat properly, and attempted suicide with laudanum. After this failed suicide attempt, she contracted pleurisy, which left her very weak, and then chronic gastritis due to her alcohol abuse. She gradually fell into anorexia, and, with her limbs paralyzed by multiple neuritis, she died on November 18, 1909, aged just 32. Her death was attributed to "pulmonary congestion", probably due to pneumonia complicated by alcohol and anorexia.

After her death, intellectuals, artists and newspapers, out of lesbophobia, tried to make her forgotten by the literary world, describing her as a woman of evil and damnation, perverse and cruel, going so far as to invent for her a life of crime, debauchery, orgies with married women, violence and cocaine consumption.

Today, Renée Vivien's name is no longer known to the general public, and is never mentioned alongside those of great ans famous poets such as Arthur Rimbaud or Charles Baudelaire, despite her gorgeous poetry, her immense talent and fascinating work.

She's personally my favourite, and not only because she was a lesbian. Her poetry is the most beautiful, interesting and deep poetry I have ever seen. She deserves to be as famous as Victor Hugo or Paul Eluard (and even more famous, in my opinion lol).

Here is one of her poems, with its english translation :

A link to some of her poems (in french but you can use a translator) ;

And two links with some of her poems translated into english : 1 and 2.

You should totally buy and read her books and poems, I have them and they're amazing!!! I'll post more translations of her poems in the future for those interested.

Anyway, thanks for reading and see you tomorrow for the second post!

#lesbian #renée vivien #renee vivien #pride #pride month #poetry #french poetry #poésie française #poésie #female homosexuality #female homosexual #lesbian history #lesbian artist

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fayes-fics · 8 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 2 - La Valse de Paris

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

AuthorsNote: Chapter 2 of new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This details our reader settling into Paris and the outbreak of war. Benedict turns up next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

Paris, September 1939

Your first few weeks in Paris are a delightful blur.

Spending late summer exploring the city - with Solène as your occasional guide and Eloise when she is not at work. You soak up every moment, from the windswept magnificence of standing atop the Eiffel Tower, your words being stolen by the wind, to the monastic silence of the Louvre on a quiet Monday morning. And everything in between - from Notre Dame's atmospheric incense-laden gothic darkness to the airy, resplendent glass dome of Galeries Lafayette that glitters like a prismatic jewel even on cloudy days.

But perhaps your favourites are the little slices of city life: sitting watching the world go by at a corner cafe, the crunch and warm, pillowy softness of the first bite of freshly baked baguette as you wander back from the boulangerie, the lingering fragrance of the rose garden at the Château de Bagatelle in Bois de Boulogne... It's all pieces of a puzzle that fill your heart in ways that make your life before now seem drab, almost in black and white, like a photograph.

You have written to Stanley once since you arrived, effusive in your praise, a homily to your new home, however temporary. While proclaiming his happiness for you, his response tempered, a touch dismissive of your wonderment. I can scarcely believe any city could truly live up to the praise you so readily heap upon Paris, my love, he wrote back. That was a week ago, and your urge to reply has been muted.

It's during an idle lunchtime by the Seine, eating a sandwich as you dangle your feet over the river wall, that you genuinely feel a local. An elderly French couple, likely visiting from the provinces, approaches you and asks you for directions to the Musée de l'Homme. Part of you aglow they think you sophisticated enough to look Parisian, and French. And you are able to help them, giving them the information in French, not fluent but sufficient that they are surprised when you confess “je suis américaine”.

In your third week, you secure the art gallery job Eloise had seen posted. An opportunity to meet many new people, primarily British and American, who share your love of art of all persuasions. You spend many a happy hour answering questions and building your knowledge of art, not just in your gallery but across the city. Part of you is wistful to study the subject in even greater depth than the books you borrow in copious quantities from the library where Eloise works.

You grow so close to Eloise so quickly that it’s as if you have known her your whole life. A sense of kinship, a near familial bond. You know, on some instinctive level, she will always be a part of your life somehow. Your evenings are often spent in lounge bars together—venues awash with art deco splendour as you listen to jazz through a cigarette haze and flirt aimlessly with a carousel of handsome men. Life seems so full of potential, a hum in your very being.

“What do you think the purpose of life is, y/n?” Eloise sighs as she flops onto your bed after returning from one such decadent night out.

“Aaaand we are done with the brandy…” you declare, taking the bottle of Martell cognac from her grip and placing it pointedly on the dresser, your high-handed point only mildly undermined by your own unsteady gait.

You collapse down next to her, the intricate ceiling rose around your light fixture swirling slightly before your very eyes.

“Love?” you hazard in answer to her question.

“Boo! Cliché!” she jeers, elbowing you good-naturedly.

��I don’t just mean romantic love,” you protest, “the love of family… friends…”

“Ah, yes, family. Endlessly large family. Don’t suppose you want an extra sibling or two, do you? I could be persuaded to let a couple go,” she squints comically.

“Depends… can I have the artist?” you jest.

“You have to stop staring at that painting; it's getting weird,” she opines with her typical bluntness, “and no, you can’t. You know he’s my favourite,” she pouts.

“I think he’s my favourite too,” you opine over a stifled yawn, any embarrassment about being called out for your unbridled admiration overridden by the sleepy state your comfortable bed lulls you into.

“If you end up being attracted to my brother, I will have to disown you, you know,” she pats your hand drowsily.

“Hmm, good thing he’s so far away…” you trail off with a lazy giggle, eyes drooping heavily.

It’s the last words you exchange before you both fall asleep on your bed.

–

Perhaps, as with all things that are too good, the idyll is temporary. It's the news you wake up to that following morning, September 4th, which throws everything into uncertainty. Solène knocks on your door early with an uncharacteristically sombre expression, wordlessly handing you the morning paper and flicking on the wireless on your mantelpiece, the fine lines on her face deeper etched, furrowed with worry.

‘La Guerre!’ the headline screams from the newspaper. And the voice on the airwaves, your ear more attuned to the language now, details how Britain and France have jointly declared war against Germany for their invasion of Poland a few days prior.

At the sound of the radio, Eloise emerges from your room, blinking and hair asunder, a little delicate from your previous night's revelry. You sip coffee at a loss for what to think or do. It’s an odd cognitive dissonance when life at once seems identical but also changed by an invisible shape - an undercurrent of fear, of the unknown, a punch to the pit of your stomach that you don’t know how to acknowledge - even as you go through the motions of your daily routine and head to work.

By the evening you are more phlegmatic about the situation. Your spirit dampened, yes, but not crushed. You feel an immense sense of privilege that conflict is not yet at your doorstep, but equally knowing being in the capital city of a nation that just declared war against a neighbouring country is not exactly safe.

You and Eloise splash out on dinner at an upscale brassiere that night, one you have both passed and commented you’d love to dine in some time. Both of you seized by the unspoken “what if”, the previous reluctance to treat yourselves entirely absent.

Talk on all the tables around you as you dine - on heavenly butter-soft steak - is about the war. What it could mean for Paris, fear of another major European conflict so soon after the last, the economic concerns - the bite of the early 30s depression just relinquishing its hostile grip on the somewhat bruised denizens.

Afterwards, you wander the cobbled streets back to your apartment, arms looped, bellies full, occasionally staring up at the starry night sky in mostly contemplative, sober silence. It’s a beautiful evening, but something in the warm breeze feels melancholic.

When you open the door to your building, Solène is waiting, rocking on her heels.

“Eloise, a telegram has come for you!” she announces, shoving a piece of paper into her hand. “And a telephone call from England earlier,” she adds, gesturing to the black rotary phone outside her place—the only one in the building.

Eloise gives you a brief glance and then opens the message. You watch her eyes ping across the text before her shoulders slump.

“My mother,” she sighs in explanation, “it appears she is summoning me back home.”

“What?!” the selfish reflex of not wanting to be left alone is the first thing flaring in you.

“It’s not fair!” she whines in a flash of child-like defiance before continuing in a more subdued tone. “She is sending my brother to come get me. She doesn’t specify which, but seeing as Anthony is a Lieutenant General in the Army and has likely been called to Churchill’s side, I'm presuming Benedict,” Eloise surmises.

Your thoughts instantly fly to that painting hanging in your apartment upstairs. A strange flutter under your ribs at the idea you could be about to meet its creator. Quickly followed by a wash of guilt that you could even focus on such a frivolous thing.

“What will I do without you?’’ You fret aloud, grasping her arm tighter.

“There was a call for you too, y/n,” Solène pipes up. “Your father wants you to exchange your return ticket for a sailing home as soon as possible,” she relays.

“But.. I just got here!” your lament as defiant as Eloise’s. A frustrating sense you are losing a fleeting opportunity you already hold so precious - like a new toy being ripped from the meaty fist of a truculent toddler.

“Mes amis, what can I say?” that trademark Gallic shrug seizing Solène’s shoulders. “While Paris is safe for now, we do not know how much longer that will hold true… it is likely best you return home. Perhaps this will be over in weeks, and you can return?”

You know your parents have paid your rent upfront for a whole year, likely similar for Eloise, your landlady not impacted financially by your leaving, merely a wish for you to enjoy your Parisian adventures.

As you unlock the door to your apartment and wander in, both of you sigh; the illumination from the Eiffel Tower that refracts upon your window pane just adds to your melancholia, a sight that before had never failed to warm your heart.

“When will your brother get here?” your inflection dull.

“Tomorrow, most likely. It only takes a couple of hours to cross the Channel, and as you know, the train ride from the coast is just a few more. I expect he’ll be waiting for me right here when I return from work,” her tone is just as flat as yours.

You want to ask if she will pack tonight, but you stop yourself, seeing the flame that usually burns so bright behind her blue eyes dimmed. Wordlessly, you draw closer and pull her into a firm hug.

“I will miss you like a sister,” she whispers into your hair, returning the embrace just as fiercely, “maybe moreso.”

You nod and band your arms tighter briefly before letting go, bone-deep exhaustion overtaking anything else you see in her mirrored stance.

The last thing that captures your eye as Eloise turns to her room is that painting of her childhood home and, strangely, how it feels closer now than ever before.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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centrally-unplanned · 10 months

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In my list of orphaned projects is a big damn essay on the fertility transition , which I never wrote. I had this in the docket for almost a decade, back when worrying about fertility rates was still a hot take. But alas the ship has sailed, everyone is talking about it now and has written it all out already, and I have mountains of projects, so I will just outline it quickly, sans graphs and footnotes. Maybe doing that will incentivize me to write up a full one someday, and it also gets my cohesive viewpoint out there.

The Future Is Exowombs & the Global Fertility Transition

The Trendline

The fertility transition has long roots - going back to 19th century France, originating in metropoles like Paris and culturally exporting itself to the countryside.

It seems broadly linked to material prosperity in ways that are load-bearing, one implies the other.

It is a 'sticky' cultural transition - once a country begins to move towards lowered TFR it never recovers outside of temporary blips.

It is not related to "western" cultural norms or specific contingencies of religion or ethnicity - those can matter at the margins, but rarely make a huge difference.

Starting in the 1990's, following sharp increases in A: global economic growth and B: global cultural diffusion/global monoculture, a trendline that used to be reserved for wealthy countries has rapidly accelerated, affecting countries at almost every income level. The fertility transition is now fully global.

The Cause

The primary driver of this phenomenon is the positive realization of desires - and by that I mean it is not something forced on people due to a lack in their lives.

It is not primarily caused by growing singleness; the number of people having any kids at all today is lower but overall pretty similar to the number of people who did a hundred years ago. It makes a marginal difference but not a huge one.

It is not linked to money, or housing prices, or other economic issues - fertility rates do not notably change with income levels or other price factors. At the margins, sure, but not at relevant ones.

It is not linked to specific technologies like contraception. People have understood how to prevent pregnancy for centuries - though like many things they do contribute at the margins. Additionally, you can’t uninvent them.

It is by a large majority linked to the death of large families. It was previously common for there to be families with 5 or more children, sometimes way more. 10+ children was not that rare in the past.

These families were disproportionately engaged in agricultural production; cities have always been fertility sinks.

In a world of manual household labor, rural living, low rights for women, low economic opportunities for women, and high death rates for children, these large families made sense. The 'opportunity cost' of the endless pregnancies & sicknesses was low (economically, not gonna handwave the immense personal toll)

All of these reasons have vanished. People want to have families, and love their children. But enduring multiple painful pregnancies, putting your career on hold, and spending huge chunks of your lifespan on child raising no longer tracks. The experience of having ~2 children is superior, along almost every metric, than the experience of having ~5 children for most people. This is what I mean by positive desires - the family structures of the past were built on misery and necessity, and will not return willingly.

The Problem

Many will point to the economic & social consequences of the Fertility Transition. They are very real, particularly at sub-1.0 fertility rates. If you are South Korea today, you have no plan for how your economy will truly support itself 50 years from now - you will vanish as a country in a few generations.

The focus on nearish-term crises also misses the opportunities lost - economic growth is premised on specialization, and specialization is premised on scale. A smaller world is a poorer world per capita, and a less innovative world, problems which have compounding effects. The difference in the long term is orders of magnitude.

But, far more importantly than any of that, is that we are nowhere close to the capacity of the earth to support humans. Supporting double or even triple the current population of the earth is trivial; a 10-fold increase would be quite easy, particularly once innovation is factored in. Being alive is a good of worth incomparable to anything else - the 'future' is literally defined by it. Time only meaningfully passes through the eye of one who can behold it.

The Failed Solutions

Money cannot buy lifespan or reclaim lost time - all attempts to throw money at the problem of fertility can help at the margins, but won't change the fundamentals. Some people want to have 2 kids, but can only afford 1. Or are prioritizing a career, but will work part time to have 3 kids. But the current policy crop of tax benefits or subsidized child care has not found a way to make someone truly want a larger family size, just mitigate gaps between desire and ability - and only barely.

Could radically larger amounts of money solve this problem? A professional career track in giving birth, 100k+ salaries for full-time mothers? I am open to the idea - but society isn't. The fiscal transfers needed are too radical for the current political environment, no one is proposing this.

Immigration was frequently proposed as a stop-gap, but its a 90's idea, premised on the idea that the Fertility Transition was a western problem that other countries did not face. It is not and never was; as every country's fertility declines, immigration becomes a zero-sum solution.

Turning back the clock on cultural change is A: impossible, the material logic of modern industrial production broke the need for it, and culture is downstream of material constraints. And B: its barbaric - if your answer to humanity's obstacles to greater flourishing is to condemn half of it to misery, we are better off dead.

So population levels will either stagnate or decline - unless something intervenes.

The "Future" Aka Getting Rationalist On Main

Exowombs, aka artificial wombs, allow you to grow a human child outside of the need for a person to incubate it. The baby (hah) step they let you do is strongly lower the cost of having a child; this is time & health given back to a mother, it will make having larger families easier.

But that won't fundamentally, shift the reality - that most people only want 1-2 kids, they don't want to raise more than that. However, with exowombs, you don't need to; you can make children outside of a family's desire for one. You can do that pretty trivially, actually. A society, if committed to solving its fertility issues, could mass-produce people with exowombs. Which would be very good to do ethically, because living is good and I personally don't think kids at orphanages should be euthanized to end their suffering, they are fine.

If some society, somewhere, did this, they would rule the world in a few generations. No one else is solving this problem, and meanwhile the human capacity to live on Earth is being woefully underutilized. Before natural human growth would solve this eventually - now it seems that will never happen, so anyone who actively tackles the problem wins. They literally win the future, by being the future.

Now, no one is going to do this soon - proposing this idea is not my point. Exowomb research is harshly regulated or illegal everywhere, modern society hates the idea of this kind of experimentation. We are, in so many ways, allergic to the idea of solving this problem. It doesn't even have to be exowombs, maybe we do the salaried mothers idea. My point is just the illustration - the future where there is 100 billion people dwarfs any current trendline future. That hypothetical dominates the worldline space, because arriving there organically seems to have faded away. The fact that we are not going to take that future, that it is probably gone now, is really, really sad.

But of course there is the other solution, the reactionary specter - instead of the technological solution, we choose the social one, of cultural regression and expanded reproductive control. I am not so worried about this, personally? Because I think it would unsustainable and result in a lot of bleed to liberal societies. It should not be taken lightly though - in a world where everyone has 1.0 fertility, and the social and economic consequences are becoming dire, I wouldn’t discount the willingness for radical solutions. I myself prefer the technologist side. But I think odds are we don't get either, just the long decline.

TL;DR - don’t let the Mormons win. Build exowomb factories.

#the fertility transition #essay

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intersectionalpraxis · 2 months

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In Paris, France, a person (or people?) have written "wife beater" on a poster of Johnny Depp that is framed on the outside of a bus shelter. It is for Dior's fragrance "Sauvage." For folks who I am sure are aware, there is massive documentation and personal testimony from Amber Heard about Depp's abuse and violence against her. As the person wrote in response to this, I also love to see abusers being called out for the trash they are.

#feminist #social justice #current events #johnny depp #amber heard #believe survivors #tw domestic violence #tw abuse #domestic violence #gender based violence #violence against women #paris #france #news #dior #christian dior

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sgiandubh · 3 months

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Hi!

Fitness Anon here…

Just had to run a few errands this morning and there I spotted him - I will call him ‘local S’. Whoever he is, is not really important at all. It is about the perception - or the non-perception“ - of the ‘rest of us’ towards him.

He is an actor who lives in our neighborhood with his family - played leading roles in some TV series in the last 20 years and also plays theatre frequently. I think he has the same level of recognition C and S may have in Scotland.

The first time after moving here I met him at the post office. But with a toddler and a crying baby in tow I did not recognize him immediately. A few weeks later a friend of mine (who grew up here) and I went to a park with our kids and ‘local S’ jogged past us. I asked my friend if he was the one I thought he was. She looked a little bit confused at first and then said: Yes, and he is living here since a few years! Nothing else - no chatting, no gossip - nothing. And that hasn't changed to this day.

‘Local S’ lives here and is part of our community. None of us would think of taking a photo of him waiting in the line at the local bakery or anywhere else. And we certainly wouldn't post anything on social media about seeing or meeting him. None of us are impressed when we meet him or ask him for a selfie. It's also not a bad thing that none of us here are interested in 5 minutes of Instagram fame.

In the situations where I meet him, I never realise him as an actor and semi-famous. Because his every day appearance is completely different from his TV roles. In his most well-known TV role, he had to wear an unusual costume like Sam. So when you see hin in his normal attire, he looks totally different.

I meet him in normal everyday situations, just as I do with many other people. This could be one of the reasons why we don't consider the ‘local S’ to be famous. Meeting him in a jogging suit, sweating and buying rolls has nothing glamorous at all. The other reason is probably that he doesn't appear to be recognised as someone famous. He lives a completely low-key everyday life. Sometimes he is featured in the relevant magazines to promote his TV roles. As far as I'm aware he hardly talks about his life at home there, only about his projects.

What I have just described probably also widely corresponds to Sam's (and C's) life in Scotland. They are known in their community and neighborhood. However, it is not considered that an appearance of them is a sensation. They are part of the everyday life there, just as ‘local S’ is part of my everyday life. And that is not glamorous or exciting - neither in Scotland nor anywhere else in Europe or in the world. That's why probably little or nothing is known about their everyday lives at all.

Dear (returning) Fitness Anon,

EVERY SINGLE WORD OF WHAT YOU WROTE. And then, some more.

While living in Paris, I spotted (not necessarily in that order):

a) Kristin Scott Thomas, at the (now defunct) posh, Waitrose French wannabe, INNO supermarket, in Montparnasse. Her caddy chock-a- block full with Tŷ Nant Welsh spring water (very classy cobalt blue bottle and a novelty, in 1997). Now, The English Patient is easily in my top 5 movies. I chuckled in my Barbour and quickly busied myself with paying and getting out of that store ASAP. Everybody knew who she was - TEP's movie posters were all over town and in each and every métro station. Nobody flinched.

b) Daniel Auteuil, one of my favorite French actors. Formidable in Patrice Chéreau's La Reine Margot (and pretty much everything else), insane chemistry with the beautiful Isabelle Adjani. He was hailing a taxi, somewhere near Avenue de la Motte-Picquet, steps away from my flat, circa 2001. I grinned like an idiot and passed my way.

c) Catherine Deneuve, The Legend. I already wrote about it, a while ago. We were in line, at the movies, I (loudly) betted it was her and she smiled. That's all. And that is all it should be.

About my Greek experiences, I have written here, by the way: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/748463393458061312/im-interested-to-know-whether-you-came-to-enjoy?source=share . Even in a warm, expansive Southern European country nobody gave a flying duck, ever. Just humorously mentioned seeing them having coffee around town, while gossiping, Nothing more.

You'd have to be overly obsessed and/or really parochial to think people who live in the same neighborhood with actors, business tycoons or politicians would ever give a damn about it, every single time they spot those people somewhere.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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