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public-trans-it-deactivated20240 · 23 days

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I thought you were anti ai "art"

What changed

I mean, originally I loved AI art. When it was first becoming trendy and couldn't actually replicate images, just produce vague shapes that kind of resembled the thing you asked for. That was fun. I found it fascinating to see how these algorithms processed data to try and replicate how we experience the world, but in their own way. I thought it was incredible and more than capable of becoming a huge art movement in its own right. In fact, I was a HUGE supporter of Frank (@nostalgebraist-autoresponder) which was a ChatGPT bot trained on Tumblr posts and hooked up to the tumblr API. Love Frank to death, and miss her a lot. She was a great study buddy for some of my views of animism into practice through interactions with her.

(this got way longer than I planned, putting this under a readmore)

I actually still have some images of my Sona (pictured in my PFP) that I tried to generate. Its nearly impossible to get an AI to generate it, because of how weird it looks, but it was always cool to see how a machine would try to create it!

Look at that beauty! The resemblance is uncanny! (To clarify, the second image is drawn by @faundlydreaming and ABSOLUTELY IS NOT AI GENERATED)

Then the AI art movement kinda moved away from that and became about quickly producing images, and I hopped on the bandwagon of hating it mostly due to hating that the AI art I loved so much had changed. It was easy to get swept up in it. So yeah, I was anti-AI art for a while.

Then, as a silly thought experiment for myself, I tried to think of ways that AI art, in its 'new and improved' form, could be used in cool way. Eventually, I settled on how I thought it would actually be REALLY cool and thematic to use as part of a Voidheart Symphony campaign, generating all the NPCs that way so that you had uncanny distorted images of people which REALLY fit with the games theming. I thought the idea had a lot of potential, but couldn't really get a group together so I never explored it.

From there, I realized... that was actually a really good use of AI art models! No one is commissioning hundreds of NPC portraits for their at home TTRPG campaigns. Thats an absurd waste of money that most of us don't have. Using AI art to generate pictures for those characters as an extra resource for those kinds of games wouldn't be costing anyone a job, and realized that is actually a good strength for AI art. Small and inconsequential single use images. The kind of thing you cant justify dropping 100 bucks on per image for (if you are paying less than that YOU ARE UNDERPAYING YOUR ARTIST. Underpaying artists who don't value their own work is bigger art theft than AI art could EVER be, in my eyes).

Once I realized there WAS a decent use case for AI art, it was easy to go from there to seeing what other use cases there could be for it, and from there I started looking at the stuff I was following and repeating a bit more closely.

At which point, I looked at all the fascistic reasoning employed by a lot of the Anti-AI movement, and realized "Wait a fucking second, this is just Duchamp's Fountain again." That and the same "lost sales" argument that is used against piracy that has been debunked time and time again.

Like, I don't think AI art as an industry will ever succeed. AI art is inherently flawed, and cannot produce a level of consistency needed at a business level. But also I don't actually give a fuck what is or isn't successful as a business. I care about how it can be used as a tool, and I think as a tool it has some decent potential.

At the end of the day, all of the issues with AI art boil down to the exact same struggles we saw in the Industry Revolution when several handicraft fields became automated. Fighting against technological advancement is a fruitless battle. The only benefit to it is maintaining the status quo, but the status quo FUCKING SUCKS MAN. As automation takes over more fields, we need to pay more attention not to the poor people no longer being useful to capitalism anymore, but on how much we tie our worth as people to the products we create.

That is why I am an ardent supporter of Universal Basic Income, which if we had, none of this would be an issue. AI art existed for quite some time before anyone had a problem with it. The only point at which it became a problem was when it started threatening peoples jobs. That is a problem, but its not a problem with AI art, its a problem with how capitalism functions.

On top of that, its... not enforceable. The big thing to always ask when you think certain things should be allowed and certain things shouldn't is "Who is going to enforce this rule?" and "How do you determine what falls under this and what doesn't?" Does someone using the red eye tool in photoshop to make their photos nicer count as AI art? Should every mom posting her Christmas photos on Facebook have their images deleted? What about artists who deliberately try to copy the surreal artstyle that AI art is so fantastic at? How do you intend to prove they actually drew it themselves? Are entire STYLES of art going to be illegal now?

These are questions you need to ask. What do you WANT out of your movement, and HOW do you plan to achieve it? If you don't have an answer to both of those questions, then all you are doing is flailing wildly and hitting random people around you, and that benefits no one.

#also im not saying this to be dismisive but what the fuck is going on with your grammar?#like i dont actually care and its not an issue but i dont think I've actually seen anyone use sentence case but not use capitals elsewhere #(like the acronym AI for example)#and not use any punctuation outside of scare quotes #i want to dissect you #anyway this ask was clearly in bad faith but yall should know by now that my response to bad faith anons is 'OH SPEAKING OF THAT'#and then ranting about something #honestly im just happy to get messages #this also got a lot longer than I intended #i was only going to write like 1 or 2 paragraphs #but then i got started and yknow how i am #anyway #putting it in the tag #text essay #might add it to my pinned as well

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paganinpurple · 1 year

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AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

#ao3 #using ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanworks

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copperbadge · 4 months

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I'm getting depressingly good at identifying the formula for Pop Academic Books About ADHD.

Regardless of their philosophy it pretty much goes like this:

1. Emotionally sensitive essay about the struggle of ADHD and the author's personal experience with it as both a person with ADHD and a healthcare professional.

2. Either during or directly following this, a lightly explicated catalogue of symptoms, illustrated by anecdotes from patient case studies. Optional: frequent, heavy use of metaphor to explain ADHD-driven behavior.

3. Several chapters follow, each dedicated to a symptom; these have a mini-formula of their own. They open with a patient case study, discuss the highly relatable aspects of the specific symptom or behavior, then offer some lightweight examples of a treatment for the symptom, usually accompanied by follow up results from the earlier case studies.

4. Somewhere around halfway-to-two-thirds through the book, the author introduces the more in-depth explication of the treatment system (often their own homebrew) they are advocating. These are generally both personally-driven (as opposed to suggested cultural changes, which makes sense given these books' target audience, more on this later) and composed of an elaborate system of either behavior alteration or mental reframing. Whether this system is actually implementable by the average reader varies wildly.

5. A brief optional section on how to make use of ADHD as a tool (usually referring to ADHD or some of its symptoms as a superpower at least once). Sometimes this section restates the importance of using the systems from part 4 to harness that superpower. Frequently, if present, it feels like an afterthought.

6. Summation and list of further resources, often including other books which follow this formula.

I know I'm being a little sarcastic, but realistically there's nothing inherently wrong about the formula, like in itself it's not a red flag. It's just hilariously recognizable once you've noticed it.

It makes sense that these books advocate for the Reader With ADHD undertaking personal responsibility for their treatment, since these are in the tradition of self-help publishing. They're aimed at people who are already interested in doing their own research on their disability and possible ways to handle it. It's not really fair to ask them to be policy manuals, but I do find it interesting that even books which advocate stuff like volunteering (for whatever reason, usually to do with socialization issues and isolation, often DBT-adjacent) never suggest disability activism either generally or with an ADHD-specific bent.

None of these books suggest that perhaps life with ADHD could be made easier with increased accommodations or ease of medication access, and that it might be in a person's best interest to engage in political advocacy surrounding these and other disability-related issues. Or that activism related to ADHD might help to give someone with ADHD a stronger sense of ownership of their unique neurology. Or that if you have ADHD the idea of activism or even medical self-advocacy is crushingly stressful, and ways that stress might be dealt with.

It does make me want to write one of my own. "The Deviant Chaos Guide To Being A Miscreant With ADHD". Includes chapters on how to get an actual accurate assessment, tips for managing a prescription for a controlled substance, medical and psychiatric self-advocacy for people who are conditioned against confrontation, When To Lie About Being Neurodivergent, policy suggestions for ADHD-related legislation, tips for activism while executively dysfunked, and to close the book a biting satire of the pop media idea of self-care. ("Feeling sad? Make yourself a nice pot of chicken soup from scratch and you'll feel better in no time. Stay tuned after this rambling personal essay for the most mediocre chicken soup recipe you've ever seen!" "Have you considered planning and executing an overly elaborate criminal heist as a way to meet people and stay busy?")

Every case study or personal anecdote in the book will have a different name and demographics attached but will also make it obvious that they are all really just me, in the prose equivalent of a cheap wig, writing about my life. "Kelly, age seven, says she struggles to stay organized using the systems neurotypical children might find easy. I had to design my own accounting spreadsheet in order to make sure I always have enough in checking to cover the mortgage, she told me, fidgeting with the pop socket on her smartphone."

I feel a little bad making fun, because these books are often the best resource people can get (in itself concerning). It's like how despite my dislike of AA, I don't dunk on it in public because I don't want to offer people an excuse not to seek help. It feels like punching down to criticize these books, even though it's a swing at an industry that is mainly, it seems, here to profit from me. But one does get tired of skimming the hype for the real content only to find the real content isn't that useful either.

Les (not his real name) was diagnosed at the age of 236. Charming, well-read, and wealthy, he still spent much of his afterlife feeling deeply inadequate about his perceived shortcomings. "Vampire culture doesn't really acknowledge ADHD as a condition," he says. "My sire wouldn't understand, even though he probably has it as well. You should see the number of coffins containing the soil of his homeland that he's left lying forgotten all over Europe." A late diagnosis validated his feelings of difference, but on its own can't help when he hyperfocuses on seducing mortals who cross his path and forgets to get home before sunrise. "I have stock in sunburn gel companies," he jokes.

#sam has adhd #self help #satire

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hyperlexichypatia · 5 months

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As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.

I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”

I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .

And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.

Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.

Codependency What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.

Compulsory Heterosexuality What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making. What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.

Emotional Labor What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc. https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/ What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).

Battered Wife Syndrome What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.

What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.

I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.

What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”

Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”

#mad pride #neurodiversity #ableism #ageism #youth rights #liberation #disability rights #classism #capitalism #mental health culture #pop psychology #feminism #emotional labor

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lovelyisadora · 2 years

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it’s the last week of classes before finals…really gonna be pushing myself to get all my work done on time. so thankful for the fact that I have zero exams this quarter

#i have 2 essays and a presentation for one class #the pres and one of the essays are due tonight/tomorrow so I’m working on that now #and in the other class I have a 15 page final paper #and 8? 500-750 word responses I never did #and a 3-5 page essay I forgot about that I need to make up as well #i really was in a fugue state this quarter I swear #i still need to register for classes next quarter #and then when all of this is done #i have to do two more essays a thesis proposal and an annotated bibliography #and once the proposal is through get human research certified and talk to irb #and then!! and then scariest of all. i have to find people to interview about androgyny!!! and start those interviews hopefully in January??#this is so scary y’all #you might be thinking oh no isadora how are you ever going to pull this all off in two weeks #and you’d be right bc on top of all of this I work full time #grad adventures #oh and I’m disabled so there’s that #but!! my work schedule is changing in two weeks!! so it’ll get easier #just not when I really need it

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 28 days

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AITA for turning someone in for academic dishonesty?

I’m an American IB diploma candidate, and this ask does center around that, so sorry if we all just sound unbearably seventeen-years-old.

If you don’t know what the IB diploma is, think of it as if you had to write a bunch of essays and take a bunch of classes and do a bunch of service hours and then take AP tests on all those classes and add the AP scores together, and if they add up to a certain number, you get a special diploma that looks good to colleges.

Only eight people in the entire grade (we’re seniors and our exams are happening so we’re at the very end) are left in the IB diploma program right now because we made it this far and are all hoping our exam scores and essays. The program isn’t super popular at our school so we tend to have to mostly prepare ourselves for exams and such, so we’re all very proud of ourselves for getting this far and hoping that when our scores come out we get the diploma.

In short, we’ve done TONS of work. TONS OF WORK. And we haven’t received the amount of support that some IB schools are able to give. And suddenly, one of the IB diploma candidates admits in the group chat, “yeah, chatgpt wrote all of my IB essays.” If you know stuff about IB, she explicitly admitted to cheating on her Extended Essay, TOK Essay, TOK exhibition, Chemistry HL IA, History HL IA, Literature HL Essay, and Art HL Comparative Study.

That’s hours and hours and hours and hours of work that the rest of the diplomats candidates did that she’s just flippantly admitting she let an AI do for her.

but…….it also wasn’t really any of my business. So I wasn’t sure whether I should tell or not—especially since I’m the known goody-two-shoes of the group and I didn’t want to be viewed as a tattletale.

I asked two of the diploma candidates I’m friends with what they thought. One of them said “don’t be a snitch,” and the other said she wasn’t sure and kinda felt like I should talk. So… split response.

I was leaning towards “don’t be a snitch,” but eventually I just felt really indignant that this girl and I might receive the same end result for doing wildly different amounts of work. And I had evidence that she cheated—she admitted it herself. So I went to the school’s IB coordinator and I talked. I showed the screenshot. I essentially betrayed one of the candidates in a very tight knit group of students who are all breaking our backs to get this diploma with little to no IB-specific support from our teachers (our classes are all co-seated with non-IB-test-takers, who take up most of the class, which is an entirely different issue), but now it turns out one of us wasn’t even doing the work the whole time…

So I did it and it went to the administration and they’re “deciding how to proceed.”

Reason I’m worried I’m TA: she trusted us with that information and I told on her

Reason I think I might not be TA: it feels unfair that we should have the same shot at getting the IB diploma when the nights I stayed up crafting the perfect extended essay were the same nights she asked chatgpt to write her an essay and then moved on with her life and somehow did it well enough to not get caught.

AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

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sergeantbuckybarnes · 1 year

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something that we’re not // fred weasley

Summary: You and Fred are friends. Best Friends. Who happen to cuddle and sleep in bed together all the time.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: lots of pda, fluff, jealousy, reader gets slapped by her friend

A/N: As always, remember English is not first language. Also, thanks to @coffee-jelly544 for proofreading this.

main masterlist

You huffed with relief and exhaustion as you exited the potions classroom and made your way through the dungeons to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Detention with Snape was the most agonizing experience you'd ever had. You've spent the last two and a half hours cleaning cauldrons just because you hadn’t turned in your essay on time, and it didn’t help that the greasy-haired professor had it in for you.

You weren't sure what was the cause of this animosity. You were a straight A student, always acing your exams and were proud to say you’re very good at potions. However, Snape always seems to have something against you. Also, you supposed it didn't help that Fred and George Weasley were your best friends. At every opportunity the twins would try to prank or annoy the teacher, seemingly without remorse and understanding of the consequences of their actions.

‘He must enjoy sucking the life out of his students.’

“Hi there, love,” Fred's cheerful voice greeted you as you entered the common room through the portrait hole. He was sitting on the wide sofa, with George next to him. You spotted Angelina in one of the love-arm seats and Lee on the floor near George's knees, even though there was another vacant love-arm seat in the room.

When he noticed your long face, the older twin reached out his arms and drew you into his lap.

“How was detention?” George asked.

“Awful,” you mumbled against Fred's chest. He caressed your back while his other hand played with your fingers absentmindedly. “I hate Snape.”

Lee guffawed, "I don't think anyone in their right mind likes Snape."

“Greasy prick had me scrubbing his filthy cauldrons for two and a half hours.”

“Oh! How dare he,” Fred mocked dramatically, causing a small smile to break out on your face. “Do you want Georgie and I to prank him?”

You lifted your face to connect your gaze with his, “Would you?”

“Anything for you, snookums.”

At his honest response, you squeezed his waist and buried yourself further into his chest.

“Perhaps you could try not to get into trouble next time,” Angelina, who had been quiet until now, advised.

This made your brow furrow, “I only gave him the essay two days late, and it was because I was bedridden, as you know.”

“Yeah, Angie,” George came to your defense, “Snape only gave her detention 'cause he has a grudge against us.”

Your eyes grew heavy, and the muscles in your face relaxed, releasing the strain of the day. Your limbs became limp, heartbeat growing tranquil. Your breathing slowed as you felt the steady rise and fall of Fred’s chest.

“Are you gonna fall asleep on me?” Fred teased.

You hummed, “I might. You are quite comfortable.”

With a smirk on his face, Fred accepted the remark, “That I’ve been told before.”

George rolled his eyes at the silly—but typical— interaction between you two. Like the rest of your friends, he had grown accustomed to your flirting and displays of public affection, which you swore wasn’t hiding anything romantic.

“Carry me to bed?” You didn’t have to ask him twice. Fred tightened his grip on you, and with you safe in his arms made his way up to the girls’ dorm without complaint.

“Are we sure they’re just friends?” Lee inquired, intrigued.

“That’s what they say,” Angelina said in response.

“Fred!” You whispered-yelled, trying to wake your friend up without disturbing the other three blissfully sleeping on their mattresses. “Fred!” You tried again, this time lightly shaking his arm.

“Y/N/N?” His speech was sluggish, and his eyes were barely open, still half-asleep. The redhead looked down at his nightstand; the clock there marking 2:30 in the morning. “What happened?”

“I had a nightmare.”

Fred detected something peculiar in your small voice, and somehow knew you had been crying. He lifted the covers off his bed, inviting you to get in. He drew you close, your head resting on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding once you were in the safety of his arms. You gripped him in fear that he would vanish, and you were pleading with him to stay with you.

Fred noticed your distress and asked, “What happened, love?”

“I had a nightmare,” tears filled in your eyes as you recounted the images that had woken you up in the dead of the night. “You– You died, Freddie,” you wept, out of breath. Fred tightened his grip on you. “It was awful.”

“It was just a dream,” he tried to soothe you, running his hand through your hair.

“There was a war, and you were there, and there was this wall… it crumbled, and the rubble—” you couldn’t finish telling him as your words broke into sobs. Hot tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut in the hope the tears would stop.

“Shhh. I’m here, love. I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Freddie.”

“Who said anything about losing me?” He tried to lighten your mood. “You know I’m too stubborn to die.” He could feel you start to relax against him, but he still added, “You’re gonna have to put up with me for the rest of your life. It’s what you signed up for when you befriended me.”

His stupidity managed to make you crack a smile, and your choppy breathing and watery eyes slowly came to a stop. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Good. Me neither.”

Neither of you spoke again. You didn’t return to your dorm, and Fred didn’t ask you to either. You knew that if you let go of Fred's arm now, the nightmare would most likely strike again, depriving you of a good night's sleep.

Being wrapped in Fred’s arms calms you down and allows you to fall asleep, and slumber hits you after a few minutes.

The sun flowed golden through the window, making a polite announcement for the rising sun. The sunlight created rainbow diamonds that swirled across the wall's canvas.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” George’s chippy voice made you groan and bury further in Fred’s chest.

“They look very cozy, don’t you think, George?” You recognized Lee's voice.

“They certainly do, Lee.”

“Shut up!” Fred opened his eyes and tossed his pillow at his brother and best friend, who were standing at the foot of his bed. “People are trying to sleep over here.”

“Have you seen what time it is? You'll be in trouble if someone sees Y/N leave the room at this hour.”

That caused you to widen your eyes and turn to look at the clock. It was barely half an hour before breakfast.

“Oh shit!” You exclame.

“Why didn’t you wake us up sooner?”

George shrugged as he gazed at his brother. “You seemed very comfortable. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

The older twin rolled his eyes.

“Hey Y/N,” Lee called for your attention. “You are welcome to return tonight and sleep in my bed. I’m a better cuddler than Freddie.”

George laughed at his friend’s suggestion, but it didn't elicit the same emotion in Fred, who rolled out of bed and smacked his friend across his head.

“Ouch,” he grumbled, massaging his head.

“Watch it, Jordan,” Fred warned, pointing his finger at him.

“Yeah, Lee. Don’t you know Freddie boy here is the only one allowed to cuddle little Y/N/N?”

Fred was about to reprimand his brother when he was startled by the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut. When he turned around, he saw that you had already left the room.

You crept down the hallway of the boys’ dorms back to your room trying not to be caught by other students. When you reached the girls' dorms there's a loud noise around the corner and you quickly ducked into an alcove. You peek out and spot a group of girls chatting and laughing as they walk down the hall toward the common room.

Once the coast was clear, you went to your dorm and softly pushed the door open, trying to make as little noise as possible, until you were safely inside.

“G’day, buttercup,” Your friend, Alicia Spinnet, greeted you. “Fun night?”

She and Angelina were already dressed in their uniforms, gazing at you like a deer caught in headlights. Angelina was looking at you, admonishing, while Alicia's eyes were amused. You didn't need to tell them where you'd spent the night because you were confident they already knew.

“You should not be sneaking into the boys’ dorms late at night. I’m sure you have plenty of time to snog your boyfriend during the day.”

“C’mon, Angie. Let the girl have her fun.”

You frowned at her. “Fred’s not my boyfriend.”

Angelina laughed at you humorlessly. “Yeah, sure.”

“What’s your problem?” You approached her, facing her. “You’ve been a bitch to me lately for no reason.”

“I’m the bitch? I’m not the one that sneaks into the boys’ room in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry that my friendship with Fred bothers you that much, but blaming me for his rejection will not make him want you.”

Something smacked against your face, and your cheek began to sting. When you realize your friend had slapped you, your heart began to race.

Angelina had always been there for you, through everything. She was, along with the twins, one of the first people you befriended during your first year at Hogwarts. But now, after years of friendship, she had finally let herself go too far. Slapping you in the face hard was something you never expected from her.

“Angie!” Alicia gasped horrified.

“It’s alright,” you interjected, taking a long breath. You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing you altered. “Do you feel better now?” You looked at your friend, but you didn’t wait for her reply nor did you expect her to reply. You picked up your uniform from your trunk and made your way to the bathroom.

It'd been a week since your altercation with Angelina. She couldn't get the rage out of her head since then. Every time she saw you, she would experience an illogical outburst of anger. You haven’t tried to talk with her either. You were stubborn, but you weren't in the wrong this time, and she had no right to tell you the awful things she did, let alone hit you.

As if on cue, Angelina and Alicia entered the room. The smile on Angelina’s face caused by whatever Alicia said evaporated as her gaze was drawn to the table in front of her—you were sitting on one of the Gryffindor common room sofas. Fred's head rested on your lap, his legs sprawled out along the length of the couch while you ran your fingers through his ginger locks, braiding them.

Anger simmered inside her as she glared at you. She stomped her foot and mumbled a string of curses, her hands into fists as she marched towards the stairs that led to the dorms. Alicia smiled apologetically and followed her friend's lead.

“What’s wrong with her?” Fred gazed up at you, perplexed by the Quidditch Captain's actions.

“She’s upset that you don’t wanna go to the Yule Ball with her.”

“Still? Godric, you girls need to let things go.”

“You tell her that,” you grumbled, “She thinks we are dating.”

Fred didn’t seem fazed by your words. “Yeah. Lee and George think so too.”

“You have really soft hair,” you muttered, trying to change the topic of the conversation, as you didn’t like where it was heading.

“It’s the Weasley gene,” he joked, making you laugh.

“See, you can’t do shit like that and not want us to think you’re a couple.”

George and Lee dashed down the stairwell. They strolled over, leaning over the back of the couch, looking with amused eyes at the display of affection between you and Fred.

“I’m just braiding his hair,” you said more defensively than intended.

“You’re just jealous that you don’t have a best friend who braids your hair.”

The younger twin cracked a sly smirk. “Would you braid my hair, Y/N?”

“No, she won’t,” Fred answered almost in an instant, lacking amusement.

“Why not? She’s my friend too.”

“Exactly, you said it yourself— friend. Not best friends. You are just her friend. I’m her best friend and she can only have one best friend.”

“You’re so childish.”

“He’s like a possessive boyfriend who doesn’t like his girl hanging around with other guys,” Lee whispered in George’s ear.

“Watch this,” George mouthed at Lee, who was looking at him expectantly.

“Hey, Y/N,” you shifted your gaze away from Fred’s ginger locks to look at the other ginger. “Do you happen to have a date for the Yule Ball?”

Fred’s body stiffened at his brother’s words.

You squint your eyes at George’s question. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t asking just for the sake of asking. “I don’t.”

“Wanna go together?” He wriggled his eyebrows, “I’m the family's best dancer.”

“I doubt it,” you replied to him. “I bet Ginny’s got that talent, along with the brains.”

Lee roared a chuckle, and George placed a hand on his chest, a mock offended expression on his face.

“You hurt me, Y/N/N.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics.

“Who are you going to go with, then? I doubt you'll find a more suitable suitor than me.”

“She’s going with me,” Fred replied casually.

You lowered your gaze at your friend. “I am?” You inquired, “When did you ask me?”

“Now,” he said, smiling broadly, “Would you do me the honor to accompany me to the Yule Ball, dear Y/N?

Yule Ball night.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, your reflection stared back at you. You had never felt so beautiful before. You admired your dress, feeling happy with how it looked on you.

You were wearing a beautiful gown in spring garden hues. It had delicate blossom details and it was made of beautifully draped plisse tulle that pleats over a nude corset bodice. Whispery yet regal, plisse tulle at skirt had underlayers with subtle sparkle that made it truly magical.

You spent hours debating what to do with your hair, and in the end, following Alicia’s suggestion of a low bun with a French braid. You wrapped the bun with a lock of hair already plaited in a French braid and pinned it in place. And as a final touch, you added a cute hair clip for some extra glitz.

“Wow,” your friend gasped behind you. You turned around to meet her already in her gown. “Fred’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you.”

“I can say the same about Lee,” you smiled, “Have you seen yourself? You’re stunning!”

You took one last look at your reflection in the mirror before leaving the dorm. You couldn’t help but smile at yourself; this is going to be a night to remember.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off you as you descended the stairs. You had always been beautiful to him, but tonight you were especially stunning. Watching you now, he couldn't believe that he was about to have the chance to dance with you. He had a warm feeling inside of him, and he couldn't help but smile at you. As you came closer, he could see the happiness in your eyes, which made him even more excited.

“Hi,” you greeted him when you reached the bottom of the stairs and walked over to him.

“Hey,” Fred smiled at you, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Shall we?” Fred inquired, extending his arm to you. You nodded and walked over to the Great Hall, linking your arm with his.

Soon enough, you were in the middle of the crowd, swirling around to the music. As you danced together, Fred felt like nothing could tear you apart. You laughed and smiled as you moved around the ballroom, and it was honestly one of the happiest moments of Fred's life.

As the night progressed and the music got slower and more sentimental, you knew that this would be one of the most memorable nights of your life.

“Are you having a good time?” Fred asked. You had your arms around his neck and his hands were respectfully on your waist as you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

You hummed in response and gazed up at him. “Thank you for taking me. Even if you only did it to piss your brother.”

“What?” he frowned, “I didn’t take you to piss George off. He asked you to piss me off.” Fred grumbled.

“Why would it piss you off me coming with him?”

Fred tensed briefly at your question, but he quickly brushed it off. “I didn’t say it would piss me off; I meant that he believed it would piss me off,” he quickly explained, “Y’know, since he thinks we’re dating.”

You took in his explanation, still not convinced enough. “And then you asked me just to prove to him that it did, in fact, piss you off?”

“I asked because I wanted to spend the night with you.”

“Then why did you wait ‘till the last minute?”

You weren’t truly bothered, but you liked how he squirmed with each question you threw at him. It was hilarious to watch him so uneasy. It wasn’t something you were used to, so you were savoring the moment.

He was going to defend himself again when he saw the smile breaking out on your face. “You’re so mean,” he pouted.

“Sorry. You’re fun to mess with.”

As the songs continued to play and you kept swaying, you slowly –and probably unconsciously– brought each other in close until your bodies were pressed tightly against each other and you could feel each other's pulses racing under their skin.

“A little too close for a friend’s dance,” Angelina's crabby voice resonated among her friends at the table as they watched you and Fred dance a few feet away.

Alicia sighed at her friend’s snarky comment. She was tired of the situation and being in the middle of her two best friends’ feud, trying not to take sides.

“Still upset by Fred’s rejection?” Lee teased, “Or is it the fact that he’s in love with your best friend that bothers you?”

Angelina rolled her eyes. “I don’t bloody care who he likes. They could just say they're together once and for all, and not make us look stupid.”

“I don’t think they are together,” George chimed in, after a lengthy gulp of firewhiskey. “But there’s definitely something there.”

Lee frowned at the younger twin, “What made you change your mind?”

He was perplexed by his friend's quick change of heart. George was the first to suspect you and his twin were secretly dating and denying it to annoy them.

The ginger simply shrugged and sipped his drink again.

“I wish the school did more things like this,” you reflected. You were sitting on the couch in the Gryffindor’s Common Room, the ball had ended hours before, but the night hadn't ended for you and Fred. He was seated next to you, with your head resting on his shoulder. You sat there watching the fireplace flames dance and shimmer. You've always enjoyed the sound of a crackling fire and the warmth it provided during the winter months. However, Fred was completely focused on you. He admired the flickering light from the fireplace as it played off your features, making them shine. He couldn't take his eyes off of you.

He loved everything about you, from your laugh to your dimples.

Fred had never felt this way about someone. 'Should I say something? What if she thinks it's weird?' Maybe it was just because he'd never had that type of connection with anybody else before, but he didn't want to ruin it by intruding on your night.

“You didn’t have enough of my dance moves, did you?” He laughed, attempting to put any other thoughts to the back of his mind.

“You were pretty good. Surprisingly.”

A faux offended expression played on your best friend’s face. “Excuse me?” Fred placed a hand on his chest in mockery. “What do you mean by surprisingly?”

Before you could even get a clue of what was happening, you were pinned down on the couch, Fred's body hovering over you while his large fingers tickled your sides. You laughed hard, doubling over in pain and joy.

“Stop,” you said between giggles, trying to get away from him as he tickled you further.

"Okay, okay," you finally said when you knew you'd never be able to break free from Fred's grip, “I give up.”

When he was done, you lay there, gasping for air and laughing uncontrollably.

Fred reached for your face with his palm, tucking away a few strands of your hair, clearing the way so your gazes could meet.

You've always thought Fred’s eyes were beautiful and bright, always holding something special inside. It was difficult to put into words how much you loved looking into them, but it was definitely something special. Maybe it was just the way they made you feel small and vulnerable in a way that nobody else ever had, but there was just something about them that made you complete.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered ever so softly, and something turned in your stomach.

“You live to flatter.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“I never said I loved you.”

He smirked at your words. “Then, tell me,” he challenged, “Tell me you love me.”

You grew a sneaky grin on your face, moved in closer — if that was possible — and whispered in his ear, “Make me.”

His eyes darkened, and his smile became wider. His fingers sank into your waist again before you could react. “Tell me you love me!” he exclaimed.

“Never!” You shouted, giggling.

His fingers continued to tickle your sides, making you laugh, squirm, and beg him to stop.

“Say you love me, Y/N.”

“What in Merlin’s beard are you doing?” A reprimanding voice from the staircase made its way into the Common Room. “Do you know what time is it? You are gonna wake everyone up.”

George gave you a disapproving look, and he was too exhausted to see that he had wrecked the moment between his brother and you that Fred had been looking forward to for so long.

Fred sighed and got off of you, you followed his actions and went to pick up your heels from the floor.

“Sorry, Georgie,” you apologized to your friend, “You’re right, it’s late. I’m gonna head off to bed. Goodnight, guys.”

You didn’t spare a glance at the twins. You couldn’t look at Fred after what had happened, and all you could think about was what might have happened if George hadn't walked in.

'Would you have confessed?

Would he have told you he loved you?

Would you have kissed?

What would it have felt to kiss his lips?'

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind of any stray thoughts concerning you and Fred.

You were only friends.

Best friends.

And that’s all you’d ever be.

But would let the rest of the world keep thinking that you were something more.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fic #fred weasley one shot #harry potter imagine #fred and george weasley

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moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

I would love to see something from the beginning of poly!marauders relationship where they are figuring out that they all want to be together and learning how to make it work. I’ve always wondered how their relationship would start!

Thanks for requesting my love! It took me so long to get to it, I appreciate you being so patient with me <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is playing with Remus’ fingers, and you’re trying to figure out if the ache of longing in your chest is some relative of jealousy. You don’t want it to be. Remus and Sirius are your friends, and you’re happy that they make each other happy. And honestly, looking at them now, with Sirius’ leg slung over one of Remus’ and Remus’ long fingers in his grasp, you’re not sure which one of them you’d trade places with if you could.

Things have gotten…complicated, lately, though none of you are talking about it. Two weeks ago, James had kissed you, and you’d really, really liked it, but you’d felt obligated to confess your confusion to him. You do like James and want him to kiss you, but you can’t help feeling guilty for also harboring feelings for two other people at the same time. It wouldn’t feel fair to start something with James, who deserves all the best anyone has to offer, if you feel like you can’t be fully in it with him.

And of course you’d known he’d be cool about it, but you hadn’t expected him to truly understand. He’d told you that Remus had kissed him back before he and Sirius had gotten together, and James hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the other boy either. Neither of you had quite known how to move forward in light of your admissions, but you’d agreed to put things between the two of you on hold for the time being.

Then just yesterday, you’d been walking to class with Sirius, and he’d accidentally brushed your bum with his hand. The zing you’d felt was probably more a nervous response than anything else, but it had felt markedly different from the icky feeling you’d gotten when boys had touched you without your consent before. Sirius had been quick to apologize, and you’d waved it off, but you’d seen the look in his eyes. You aren’t usually one to flatter yourself by presuming anyone might have feelings for you, but the attraction in his gaze was unmistakable.

You’d said anything to anyone about that, but even now, when he’s half atop his boyfriend, Sirius’ eyes keep flitting to where you’re working on your homework.

“Anyone started on the potions essay?” Remus asks.

“No,” says James. “Have you?”

“No.”

You and Sirius both make quiet sounds of agreement.

It’s silent again, the only sound the gentle scratching of pen on parchment.

“Alright.” James sets his pen down with a thwap. “What’s going on with you guys?”

You look up, and he’s staring right at you.

“What, me?”

“Everyone!” James shakes his head. “No one is talking to each other. Did something happen?”

You press your lips together, but Sirius blurts, “I told Remus I was into Y/N.”

James blinks, looking about as shocked as you feel but without the added embarrassment. You wish, not for the first time, that you could apparate straight out of Hogwarts.

“It’s fine,” Remus says. “We’ve sorted it.” He gives you a kind look. “Don’t look so nervous, love, I wasn’t upset. It’s not like we don’t all have thoughts about other people sometimes.”

Sirius looks unsurprised, and you gather that was a part of the conversation they’d already had, but James nearly chokes on air.

“Do you?” he asks.

Remus flushes, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around Sirius’. “Sure. Sometimes.”

James and Remus’ gazes are locked, a sort of heaviness building in the air between them, and you hurry to dispel the tension. “I mean, you’re all very good-looking,” you laugh. “It’d be impossible not to notice each other.”

Sirius seems on board with your plan of levity, falling easily into his default flirtatiousness. “Yeah, gorgeous? Do you notice as well?”

For a second, your mouth works without sound, your thoughts flittering about your head like frenetic butterflies. You’re sure your face is turning a humiliating pink. “I—I mean, like I said, it’s hard not to.” You clear your throat. “You don’t get to be the golden boys of Gryffindor for nothing.”

“And here I thought it was our brains.” Sirius grins, letting you out the trap he’d unintentionally ensnared you in. “Well, if we’re known for our looks, then it makes sense why you’re part of the group too.”

It takes you a second to catch his meaning, but you don’t miss Remus’ tiny nod of agreement.

“Wait a minute,” James says, still looking between the lot of you like he’s refereeing a particularly perplexing tennis match. “So…Sirius and…who all here likes who?”

You go mute, as do the other boys.

James nods, and he’s sticking his tongue in his cheek like he does when he’s nervous, but the set of his brows is resolved. “Okay, I can go first. I fancy each of you.”

You look over at Remus and Sirius, but neither of them appear as shocked as you’d think the profession would warrant. Sirius opens his mouth like he has something to say, then shuts it again.

“Trust me, I feel very weird about it,” James goes on anxiously. “I just wasn’t sure—”

“No, it’s alright.” Remus leans forward slightly, looking like he would reach out and comfort James if he were close enough. “I’ve…I’ve had similar thoughts.”

Sirius has ceased his toying with Remus’ hand, but he doesn’t let it go, looking down at their joined fingers. “Me too,” he says, not quietly but noticeably lower than his normal half-shouting volume.

“I never…I don’t really understand it all the way,” you admit. “But I think I like each of you too.”

There’s another agonizing silence. Remus starts to brush his thumb gently over Sirius’ knuckles.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” you say finally. “I see you two together, and I’m not jealous at all. But I like you both.” You look over at James, and your face hasn’t cooled at all, but it gets a new wave of heat now. “And you, too.”

James gives you a little smile, and it’s like he can’t help himself, reaching over to give your shoulder a tiny squeeze.

“I don’t think,” Remus says carefully, “that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, it’s not like any of us doesn’t like anyone else, apparently. Just…what do we do about it?”

You and James exchange a look, but this suddenly feels like something you shouldn’t intervene in. You’re both single, but Remus and Sirius aren’t.

“Well,” Sirius drawls with a nonchalance that’s definitely forced but so familiar that you’re grateful for it anyway, “if it’s alright with you, I think I’d like to date.”

“You are dating,” you point out.

Sirius shoots you a mocking look. “Date all of you, smart-ass.”

James lets out a little laugh, and you smile a bit at Sirius’ brashness. The both of you look to Remus.

Remus only shrugs as if you’ve asked him to comment on the weather. “S’alright with me.”

James really does laugh now, the loud, hooting sound you love so much. “It’s alright? You really do know how to make someone feel special, Moons.”

“Fuck off,” Remus laughs. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Um, that we’re the most attractive people you’ve ever seen and nothing would make you happier?”

“Well there you go, James. You’ve said it for me.”

The laughter dies out, the new awkwardness of more-than-friends settling over the four of you.

“Well shit,” Sirius says after a minute. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. “You’re the only ones who have been in a relationship, what do you guys do?”

Sirius looks at Remus, and Remus looks back.

“What do we do?” Sirius whispers to him. “Do we…we go on dates sometimes, yeah?”

Remus nods, one corner of his lips twitching amusedly.

Sirius turns back to you and James, nodding decisively. “A date,” he announces. “Pick you all up in, uh, our common room at eight?”

“Eight is good for me,” James says, grinning so hugely you can’t help but smile with him. “Now, if we’re all done being weird—Y/N, lovely, could you help me with this charms homework? I’m dying over here.”

You scooch closer to him, peering at his parchment and wondering if now you can stop cataloging all the places your bodies touch, your shoulder brushing his upper arm.

“It looks fine to me,” you say after a moment.

“I know, sorry” James replies, leaning into you so that the warmth of his arm seeps into your skin. “It was a charade.”

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dragonmuse · 8 months

Text

Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn’t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #the strangest message sent #and no idea if it was on purpose #I kind of think it wasn't somehow #but boy howedy did it come across

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headspace-hotel · 5 months

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Just spent a couple hours digging into this book. I'm not even sure what has worse environmental impacts, the paper the book is made of or the opinions printed within.

Is "post-colonial" literary theory a joke? It's distressing that a book printed in 2021 by a reputable academic press can be so painfully Eurocentric, and I mean PAINFULLY. The philosophical and literary frameworks drawn upon in most chapters are like what some British guy in 1802 would come up with. In most of the chapters, every framework, terminology, and example is inseparably fused to Latin, Greek, and/or Christian philosophers, myths and texts, even down to the specific turns of phrase. You would think only Europeans had history or ideas until the 20th century.

Don't get me wrong, non-european and even specifically anti-colonial sources are used, and I don't think all the writers are white people, but...that's what's so weird and off-putting about it, most of the book as a whole utterly fails to absorb anything from non-European and in particular anti-colonial points of view. The chapters will quote those points of view but not incorporate them or really give their ideas the time of day, just go right back to acting like Plato and Aristotle and Romantic poets are the gold standard for defining what it means to be human.

In brief, the book is trying to examine how literature can shed light on the climate crisis, which is funny because it completely fails to demonstrate that literature is good or helpful for the climate crisis. Like that is for sure one major issue with it, it shows that people *have* written stuff about climate change, but it sure doesn't convince you that this stuff is good.

Most of the works quoted are rather doomerist, and a lot of the narrative works specifically are apocalypse tales where most of Earth's population dies. The most coherent function the authors can propose that literature fulfills is to essentially help people understand how bad things are. One of the essays even argues that poetry and other creative work that simply appreciates nature is basically outdated, because:

“One could no longer imagine wandering lonely as a cloud, because clouds now jostle in our imaginations with an awareness of atmospheric concentrations of carbon dioxide and other atmospheric pollutants” (Mandy Bloomfield, pg. 72)

Skill issue, Mandy.

The menace of doomerism in fiction and poetry is addressed, by Byron Caminero-Santangelo, on page 127 when he references,

the literary non-fiction of a growing number of authors who explicitly assert, some might even say embrace, the equation between fatalistic apocalyptic narrative and enlightenment…they are authoritative in their rejection of any hope and in their representation of mitigatory action as the cliched moving of deckchairs on a sinking ship

He quotes an essay “Elegy for a country’s seasons” by Zadie Smith, who says: “The fatalists have the luxury of focusing on an eschatological apocalyptic narrative and on the nostalgia of elegy, as well as of escape from uncertainty and responsibility to act." Which is spot-on and accurate, but these observations aren't recognized as a menace to positive action, nor is the parallel to Christian thought that eagerly looks forward to Earth's destruction as a cathartic release from its pain made fully explicit and analyzed. Most of the creative works referenced and quoted in the book ARE this exact type of fatalistic, elegiac performance of mourning.

I basically quit reading after Chapter 11, "Animals," by Eileen Crist, which begins:

The humanization of the world began unfolding when agricultural humans separated themselves from wild nature, and started to tame landscapes, subjugate and domesticate animals and plants, treat wild animals as enemies of flocks and fields, engineer freshwater ecologies, and open their psyches to the meme of the ‘the human’ as world conquerer, ruler and owner.

This is what I'm talking about when I say it's dripping Eurocentrism; these ideas are NOT universal, and it's adding nothing to the world to write them because they fall perfectly in line with what the European colonizing culture already believes, complete with the lingering ghost of a reference to the Fall of Man and banishment from the Garden of Eden. It keeps going:

“Over time, the new human elaborated a view of the animal that ruptured from the totemic, shamanic and relational past.”

Okay so now she's introducing the idea of progression from shamanic nature-worshipping religions of our primitive past...hmm I'm sure this isn't going anywhere bad

“While humanity has largely rejected the colonizing project with respect to fellow humans, the occupation of non-human nature constitutes civilization’s last bastion of ‘normal’ colonialism. A new humanity is bound sooner or later to recognize and overthrow a colonialism of ‘nature,’ embracing a universal norm of interspecies justice.” (pg. 206)

OKAY????

Not only denying that colonialism still exists, but also saying that humans' relationship with nature constitutes colonialism??

Embracing limitations means scaling down the human presence on demographic and economic fronts…(pg.207)

ope, there's the "we have to reduce the human population"

Embracing limitations further mandates pulling back from vast expanses of the natural world, thus letting the lavishness of wild (free) nature rule Earth again” (pg. 207)

aaaaaaand there's the "we have to remove humans from wild nature so it can be freeeeeee"

don't get me wrong like I am a random white person with no particular expertise in anti-colonialist thought but I think this is an easy one. I'm pretty sure if your view of nature is that colonialism involving subjugating humans doesn't exist any more and actually humans existing in and altering nature is the real colonialism so we should remove humans from vast tracts of earth, your opinion is just bad.

Anyways y'all know I have an axe to grind against doomerism so it was probably obvious where this was going but good grief.

#climate #climate doomerism

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ffsg0jo · 29 days

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𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓[𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘] - 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

sukuna is on the verge of being kicked out from uni, and his friends are completely useless (no surprise there, though). if only there was someone who could help him get his grades up before the semester ends....

college au - various x reader (mainly sukuna x reader)

warnings: mean gojo , slight mean suguru , kinda ooc characters , sukuna is his own warning , college/uni au , swearing

w/c: 1000 words + (not proofread)

series masterlist :: general masterlist

join the taglist here to be tagged in future chapters for this series <3

next chapter

sukuna was fucked.

he messed around last semester a bit too much, spent too many nights partying and getting shit faced. his already mediocre grades got worse and worse, attendance slipping, and now he was faced with the threat of disenrollment if he didn’t get his grades up this term. he might as well kiss his degree goodbye now.

“what about (name)?” gojo suggests, thinking about how you used to tutor suguru. gojo remembered how it was thanks to you he’s gained a real proficiency in the social sciences and even tutors students himself.

“what about her?” he says in response, becoming increasingly annoyed at both the situation and his friends.

“she’s smart right?” gojo shrugs.

“why can’t you or nanami help me?” sukuna groans, ignoring gojo and facing his long haired friend. suguru was sat at his desk, minding his own business, finishing up the references for his essay.

“leave (name) out of this satoru,” suguru sighs, turning to face the two sat in his room and cracking his knuckles. “poor girls suffered enough at your hands.”

it’s true. gojo saw how introverted you were and personally made it his job to constantly mess with you. he revelled in your embarrassment and not knowing how to act, and quite frankly it was mean. everyone knew he wasn’t really interested in you and would get bored with teasing you soon enough, moving onto someone else. but your reactions were quite funny if they were being honest.

suguru was nice enough to you on his own, but never really spoke to you beyond a “hello”, gojo constantly bothered and teased you, whilst sukuna completely ignored you, forgetting you existed. out of the four nanami was the nicest, always respectful and dragging gojo away from you with an apology. the world needed more nanamis.

“you’re no fun suguru. you never cared before” gojo pouts. he suddenly sits up straighter, painting a smirk on his face as he realises something, “are you in loveeeee? does suguru have a crush on plain old (nameeeeee)?” he singsongs.

“you’re insufferable, and don’t be stupid satoru,” suguru fights back, already done with satoru’s nonsense. “she’s not my type anyway.”

sukuna hums, nodding, agreeing with the latter part of suguru’s statement. there was nothing extraordinary about you. your quiet nature somewhat irked him, and he didn’t understand why you were so shy. you were an adult for god’s sake, why didn’t you ever stand up for yourself. the more he thought about you the angrier he became so he made a point to ignore you.

“oi, getou, answer my question.”

suguru really needed to invest in a new lock or even just move dorms altogether so these two idiots wouldn’t bother him. he just wanted to submit his essay and lay down and scroll on his phone, maybe even have a nap.

“kento has a billion jobs and barely has time to study himself, and i don’t want to waste my energy on you,” suguru says, standing up and stretching, his hand dipping under his t-shirt to lightly scratch his stomach. he walks over to his mini fridge and gets a bottle of water out, pointing it at sukuna to emphasise his next words. “you’re hopeless.”

satoru laughs at the scowl on sukuna’s face and decides to take pity on him; uni would be considerably boring without him he supposes. he gets his phone out of his pocket and scrolls for a bit, grabbing sukuna’s phone when he’s found what he’s looking for and unlocks it. he types something into his phone and hands the pink-haired giant his phone back.

“there’s (name)’s number, ask her to help you. she’s too nice and too scared to say no to you anyways.”

sukuna really didn’t want you to be his tutor, he can’t imagine you being able to teach someone like him very well, but he has no other choice. unfortunately, most of the girls (and people in general) in his acquaintance aren’t really the smart and tutoring type. he takes his phone in his hand and stares at your contact details, debating on what to do.

he’ll message you later in the week, he thinks, slipping his phone into his pocket. but for now, he just wanted to take his mind off it.

bonus:

nanami walks up to his and suguru’s shared dorm, tired and so ready to collapse on his bed for a while before he works on finishing his assignment. it seemed like the world’s against him though as he can hear suguru and gojo arguing from outside. great, he thinks to himself. so much for relaxing.

today was not a good day. he was late to work, spilt boiling hot coffee on himself after a customer bumped into him and missed his bus home. his only saving grace was that you rushed to help him, guiding him to the bathroom and holding his arm as the water ran freely on him.

truthfully, he would’ve quit working at the coffee shop long ago, but after finding out you were a regular, he convinced himself to stay. he was busy juggling his second job and lectures and whatnot, so he didn’t get to see you often. plus, the pay wasn’t too bad for part time work, and the customers were generally quite nice.

(if we’re being frank, it was like any other normal job, but nanami needed something other than his infatuation with you to rationalise his behaviour).

nanami was ready to walk away and maybe beg you to let him stay with you for a couple of hours. you’d understand fully having interacted with gojo before, and maybe he’d have a chance to finally ask you out. but the sound of your name leaving gojo’s lips made him stop in his tracks.

his eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion. gojo had your number? why on earth did gojo have your number? and why was he giving it to sukuna out of all people? and why does the thought of either of them texting you make him feel sick to his stomach.

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missetbilu · 3 months

Text

KEEPING A CLOSE EYE*

perv!fred weasley x fem!reader, smut

when fred overhears you and the girls chit chatting about boys that you fancy, he can’t keep his mind from wandering, nor his hand.

warnings: perv concept, jerking off

"Come on, Y/N, there's gotta be someone you fancy." Ginny elbowed you, trying to get a response.

Angelina, Hermione, Ginny and yourself were in your favorite little spot in the library. A very secluded area, where you could study, sneak in some food, talk, without prying eyes or ears.

Although in that afternoon, you were not very much enjoying the topic of choice. Boys. Too shy to come clean about your little crush, you would much rather gossip or even focus on the charms essay due next week than engage in the conversation. But the girls were not having it.

"Yeah, even Hermione admitted to being completely, head over heels, in love with Ron." Angelina teased.

"Hey!" The girl blushed and looked away for a second, but curiosity got the best of her and she gave in to the argument. "She's right tho, you're the only one left."

"I just don't think of any guy here like that."

"In this castle full of boys, you expect me to believe not even a single one of them is your type?" Ginny said.

"Unless you're into girls."

"I'm not." You laughed at Angelina's curious expression. "I like men."

"Then name one you would" Hermione stopped herself mid sentence, suddenly a bit shy, "...you know."

"Fuck?" Angelina completed her thought and they all laughed, Hermione also shushing her and looking around to make sure they were alone.

"Alright." You took a deep breath and tried to sound as nonchalant as you possibly could. "I guess Fred is kind of cute."

"Aw dude, are you serious?" Ginny's disappointment was so clear in her face that the three other girls bursted out laughing.

"Shhh, guys, I don't wanna get kicked out." Hermioned said between giggles.

"Sorry, babe, but this was too good not to laugh at." Angelina responded, still chuckling.

"Too good? All my friends wanna fuck my brothers."

And you all fell into laughter again.

It had been a week since Fred discovered that spot of yours to hang out. Whenever you and the girls disappeared from his sight, he would get anxious, wondering where you might be.

Until the day he was looking for a potions book, but found something far better: you.

He managed to hide in the corridor next to the one where the group of girls would sit on the floor and chit chat. Usually he took no interest in the conversations you would have. But not that day. Throughout the whole week he listened to each silly subject the girls brought up, only paying attention to the sound of your angelic voice when you made a comment. That day it was different. Once the tables turned from homework to guys you fancied, Fred felt his heart skip a beat.

He was nervous, his palms becoming sweaty as each of the girls rambled about one boy after the other. He barely listened to the guys his sister brought up, nor to the mentions of his brothers. What mattered most to him was what you were going to say. He was so afraid of hearing another man's name fall out of your pretty lips; so afraid you would confess to feeling attracted to someone else.

But he was also infatuated with the possibility of his name being the one in your mind. You quietly listened to what your friends had to say, too scared to say something yourself, Fred saw that in your expression as he tried to eye your figure from the place where he was hiding. Just thinking about it, being him the person you kept yourself from mentioning, made his trousers feel a bit too tight. His hand travelled down to his growing bulge, but he didn't move it, he didn't want to risk not hearing you.

Your silence allowed his imagination to run wild. Maybe this whole thing got her thinking about how good I would fuck her, and she's afraid of sharing those filthy thoughts. He stroked his cock once, over the fabric of his clothes. Or perhaps she's so lost in the desire of getting filled up with my cum, she didn't even notice how quiet she's been... oh fuck... He did it again and had to hold back a moan.

Fred knew he shouldn’t, but it was as if he had no control over his actions. His hand slipped past his boxers and he stroked his dick, trying so hard to imagine it was you doing it.

Has she ever had a wet dream with me? He wondered. She would wake up sweaty and out of breath. Her panties are completely damp, but it's not because of the sweat, it's arousal. I bet she would be embarrassed, looking around the dorm to see if the other girls are sleeping, before she goes under the covers and... He gasps quietly, his hands going a bit faster now. And she lets her hand touch her dripping cunt... He bites his lip to stop himself from cursing. Her sweet fingers would tease her clit and she wouldn't be able to stop a moan of my name from coming out.

"Alright." When the word left your mouth he slowed down his movement, focusing on the head of his member. It was almost painful the way he teased his tip, trying to pay attention to what you were about to say. He even held his breath, that and the expectation making him even more sensitive. "I guess Fred is kind of cute."

Fred was really thankful for the loud laughter of the group that followed your confession, because the minute he heard your sugary voice saying his name, it was too much. He came in his hand with a low grunt.

He didn't listen to anything said after that. He didn't move or took his hand off of his trousers. He was in shock. As much as he wanted that outcome, it felt unreal now that it happened. He had imagined how you would sound saying you fancied him, what words you would choose and what exactly would be the look on your face. But none of it compared to the reality of it all.

You, such a perfect picture of beauty, intelligence, kindness. The most incredible, endearing and angelical woman he had ever set his eyes upon, out of all people, wanted him.

Fred waited until you all had left to pick himself up from his spot on the floor and attempt to use some spells and his robes to hide the stain in his pants. He did a good job, it wasn't too noticeable, but deep down he didn't care. There was something, or rather someone, much more important in his mind.

He stood in front of the corridor where you had been just a few minutes before. "I guess Fred is kind of cute." That played in his head over and over again, like a broken record. And Fred definitely didn't want to fix it.

#fifi-writes #harry potter smut #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred smut

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temiizpalace · 7 months

Text

☆┊”CAN I COPY YOUR HOMEWORK ?”

SUMMARY: you forgot to do the homework before your next class.. excellent job prefect. no problem. you can just copy off your classmate! what’s his response to “can I copy your homework?”

CHARACTERS: all dorms (+ grim)

GENRE: crackfic, but could be considered fluff

WARNINGS: cursing

reader gender is not mentioned, reader is yuu

“i’ll help you with it!”

i mean, you COULD copy.. but how will you understand the material? if you copy then you might not understand it later! that’s not good at all! instead of letting you copy it all together, he helps you and walks you through it like the angel he is. he’s explaining everything in detail but in a way you could comprehend it. totally should be your teacher. even if you already understood the subject, he still wants to lock it in and make sure you truly do get it. (after that you felt like albert einstein)

riddle, trey, jack, ortho, rook (he already knew you weren’t paying attention so he got ya covered), silver

“yeah, sure”

you wanna copy his homework? yeah, sure. why not? you’re the overworked prefect of ramshackle dorm, or some may say “crowleys assistant.” you deserve a break every once in awhile right? maybe they do care about your wellbeing and want you to rest as much as possible. you already work your ass off every day. you study, care for grim, do crowleys work, and deal with some random dorms shit almost 24/7. hell, why not let him write it for you?

it’s that or he just doesn’t give a shit. 🤷🤷

epel, lilia, malleus

“bold of you to assume i did the homework”

you’re both in the same boat. well sort of anyway. he’s a busy guy, he doesn’t have time for that. life is short, and he should be doing things he wants. not sit in a classroom all day and write, just to sit down in his dorm room and write for the rest of it. oh no. he probably has like 10 missing assignments right now. long story short: his ass did not do the homework cause he didn’t wanna.

ace, leona, floyd

“lol nope”

damn you didn’t do the homework? well good luck with that. listen, he did the homework. he’s on top of it. you on the other hand chose not to do it. what’s that? oh you were busy? that sounds rough. he wishes you the best and hopes that you’ll listen next time. alright? bye 🫶🫶

idia, jamil

“wait, we had homework????”

there was homework? THERE WAS HOMEWORK? oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. he messed up. now he’s scrambling to get it done before his next period, panicking and triple checking his answers. poor baby was so caught up in his life he forgot all about class assignments. now you both are sitting at the cafeteria with pencils and eraser shavings everywhere. those sitting around you both were losing their appetites because for some reason their meal tastes like led or graphite. best of luck to you both 💔💔

grim, deuce, cater, kalim

“sure you can copy it! for a price of course.”

yeah he’ll let you copy it. one teensy weensy detail though, what’ll he get in return? well it was your fault for not working on it during your free time. it’s only fair right? he worked so hard to get these answers, why should he give them away for free? haha. that’s just how the world works, prefect. it’s nothing personal really, he just wants to benefit.

azul would definitely try to upsell you into getting one of his study guides. capitalist.

ruggie, azul, jade

he scolds you.

you didn’t do the homework? *sigh* perfect, oh, prefect. that’s a horrible habit to develop, really. why didn’t you do it? now you must scramble to finish it. you see not doing the homework once is alright, but if this happens again he will know about it. he’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again third time. now he’s giving you a long ass essay on why doing your homework ON TIME is the right thing to do, and why copying others homework is the road unsuccessful students go down.

but his lecture went on for hours. im sorry it won’t happen again just please let me copy it 🙏🙏

riddle (scolds then lets you copy), vil, sebek

A/N: I do all my homework stay safe guys 🙏

my second writing tada! lately I’ve just been going off of alignment charts and how I see them fit. hopefully this is good enough.

date written: 11/24/23

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papercorgiworld · 5 months

Text

Toxicity

The dark lord’s favourite always gets what she wants

You use your influence with the dark lord to get a certain someone to behave.

Theo Nott and Mattheo Riddle imagine

Warning: toxic reader, crucio, bit angsty? and suggestiveness

Quick post forecast: today, we’ve got toxic Thursday with Theo and Matt, tomorrow it’s flirty Friday with Enzo and if all goes well we’ll have a smutty Saturday.

Tumblr wouldn’t let me insert the pictures in text, which makes me so sad. 🥺 Sorry, you’ll have to scroll down, I hope I can fix it later… Fixed it!!!! anyways happy readings!

Requested part 2

Theodore Nott

The dark lord smiled with genuine admiration for your work as you handed him Merlin’s spell book. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, you never do. Like your parents you know what loyalty means.” You nod and he continues. “If there’s anything I can do to show my gratitude, please let me know.” You shake no, pretending like you didn’t already have something in mind when you entered his office.

After a few seconds you speak up. “Actually, there might be something, a little annoying matter that I can’t seem to manage myself.” His silence is his way of telling you to state your wish. “There’s a guy in my year, he never shows me any respect. Belittles me all the time. Yesterday, he even stole from me. I can’t do anything about it, Dumbledore doesn’t allow students to curse one another.”

The dark lord circles around you, listening attentively. He already has his suspicions, but nevertheless asks: “His name?” You meet Tom Riddle's eyes. “Theodore Nott.”

Without warning he points his wand to the door and it slams open. “Theodore, join us.” Every hair on Theo’s body raises as soon as he hears his name, but calmly follows orders. Theo’s eyes immediately land on you and a scowl forms on his face, this can’t be good. “I’ve been told your behavior isn’t what it should be.” Theodore’s eyes darken. “Whatever she said is a lie.” The dark lord snaps his head at Theo, not pleased with how he talks about his favorite. “Crucio!” Your eyes widen as Theodore falls to his knees, reaching for a nearby table to keep himself from fully collapsing. “I think his behavior will now drastically improve.” You nod and the dark lord turns towards Theodore. “Return what you stole and don’t leave this room until you’re forgiven.”

As soon as you and Theo are alone he looks up at you with hatred. “You are vile.” You simply grin. “If I were you I would change your tone and maybe throw in a few compliments.” Theodore pulls his eyes away from you. You were probably right. His orders were clear, you had to leave this room happy or whatever was waiting for him would be worse than the curse he had already suffered.

Now that he’s standing again you slowly walk towards him and he quietly stares at you bottling up his anger. “I want my essay back.” You demand. He huffs, but you quirk an eyebrow reminding him to behave. Theo takes a deep breath as he surrenders and reaches for the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here’s the essay you wrote based on my idea.” He offers you the paper and a content smirk tugs on your lips. Theo turns around, pleased to be done with you, but you grab his arm pulling him back.

“You aren’t forgiven yet.” You remind him. “How about you start with a little ‘I’m sorry’.” You suggest, making him close the distance between you two and tower over you. You try to hide the fact that you’re a little intimidated and bravely look him in the eyes. “I won’t apologize.” You lick your lips patiently. “I’m not responsible for what happens to you if you leave this room unforgiven. The dark lord might see you as an unloyal freeloader who only follows orders when it fits him.” Theodore balls his fists as his frustration with you peaks. You want to say something more, but Theo won’t let you. He forcefully grabs your chin and pushes you against the desk behind you. “I won’t apologize to you.” The boiling hate in his voice is undeniable and honestly you don’t blame him. He started playing games with you without knowing how dirty you play and now his ego’s was taking some serious damage. You speak through gritted teeth as Theo’s hold on your chin stays. “If you aren’t going to use that mouth of yours for apologizing, you better put it to good use elsewhere.”

Theodore jaw clenches and he stares at you debating his options, but you know him better than he knows himselfs. Your core is aching for what is to come. “Fine.” Theo spits as he surrenders to your will, but not without being an arrogant ass about it. With one harsh move he spreads your legs and you grip the desk behind you for support. Your smug grin is irresistible to Theodore, but he’ll never let you know how turned on he gets so he keeps his eyes dark as he slides down on you.

Mattheo Riddle

You are part of the Slytherin friend group but you know that Mattheo isn’t too fond of you. He’s always ridiculing you for something stupid. It was like his hobby was getting on your nerves. However, you’ve had enough of it and tonight his attitude was going to change. You had managed to get your hands on Merlin’s spell book before Mattheo and were currently handing it over to a very pleased Tom Riddle.

“Your extraordinary effort for our cause is admirable and doesn’t go unnoticed by me.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, but kept quiet as he sat at a table with the Malfoys. The dark lord wrapped his arm around you pulling you into a cold but appreciative hug, while whispering. “Anything you wish, my dear?” You look over at Mattheo, but as soon as your eyes meet he looks away and you can’t help but smirk. Softly you whisper something to Tom, making Mattheo look back up with anxious eyes. “Unappreciative, you say?” You nod. “And disrespectful.” You add and the dark lord seems to get more agitated. With a dramatic calmness he points his wand at the table, making everyone’s face flash with terror.

Suddenly, the quiet room is interrupted by a loud smack as Mattheo’s face is forced against the table by a spell. The emotional pain is just as visible as the blood dripping from his nose. With fuming rage and yet a stern calmness his father makes his way to the table, while every other person looks down in an attempt to hide their fear. The dark lord grabs Mattheo’s face forcing him to make eye contact. “You do not mistreat my dear (y/n). She’s loyal. A woman like her should be appreciated and pampered. From now on you’ll be good to her. Understood?”

The grip on his face is too strong for Mattheo to properly nod, but his eyes tell his father everything he needs to know. Mattheo will comply with everything the dark lord demands. When Tom releases Mattheo he looks up at you and you sincerely bow to show your gratitude and respect, thereby affirming your spot as favorite.

After the world’s most uncomfortable meeting you’re pleased to wander the hallways in solitude. You spot Mattheo cleaning his face through the half opened bathroom door and you stop to watch him. When your eyes lock in the reflection of the mirror his whole body tenses, but this doesn’t stop him from giving you a scowl. This makes your pity for him ebb away. You take a few confident strides and join him, taking the cloth from him to clean his face. “He could’ve done worse.” Your words just make him scoff. “Is my pain and humiliation not enough amusement for you?” He grabs your hand telling you to stop, you try but fail to get out of his grip and his attitude starts to frustrate you. “Stop whining, Riddle, and let go of me or I’ll go crying to your dad again.” Mattheo’s jaw clenches, but he reluctantly releases your hand allowing you to clean and heal him.

After you’ve fixed him up you both make your way back to the other guests. When you enter the room Mattheo is quick to leave you a few steps behind, searching for his friends, but one disappointed and contemptible look from his father makes Mattheo instantly turn back towards you. To your surprise he’s quick to snake an arm around you. You glare at Mattheo for being so obvious about only being nice to you to save himself. “I’m not feeling really appreciated.” Mattheo rolls his eyes at your words, while leaning in to whisper through gritted teeth. “You expect a lot of love and appreciation from a man who never gets any himself.” You look at his dark eyes, while they dart around you. “Just tell me what you want and you’ll have it.” You lay your hand on his cheek forcing him to make eye contact. “Take me to your room and fuck me.” You demand, surprising Mattheo. His harsh and frustrated eyes turn softer as he realises you might not be as unreasonable as he thought.

A/N: Typo’s, grammatical errors, forgotten warnings, worries, disturbances, disastrous thoughts? Let me know, feedback is always welcome!

Picture source: https://pin.it/33fAo21Oe

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo #papercorgiworldwritings

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reading-comp-posting · 4 months

Note

Have you ever considered using AI tools to assist with writing your responses?

Well no, because I'm doing this blog for fun. I'm enjoying writing out reading comprehension questions for posts, so why would I automate that away?

But let's say that I saw myself as some sort of arbitor of reading comprehension who needs to post as much as possible to enlighten the lowly tumblr masses. Let's say that I'm interested in upping my output of questions by any means necessary.

I opened up chatgpt and input a certain request, which would hopefully make it write questions about the last post I responded to:

Write reading comprehension questions about a Tumblr post, written by a user named "echoeyee," that reads as folows: "my take on shipping aromantic characters is that if you're aro you get to do whatever you want and if you're not you have to write me a three page essay 12 pt font times new roman double spaced explaining in detail why you believe entering a romantic relationship would be an interesting and worthwhile storyline for the character and how you believe their aromanticism would affect the way they experience said relationship"

And it certainly did write a lot of questions about it. Let's go through them, one by one.

1. What is the primary stance expressed by the Tumblr user "echoeyee" regarding shipping aromantic characters?

This one is good. If you look at the set I wrote, my first one is basically the same, just with different words and a less formal tone.

2. According to the post, what conditions must non-aromantic individuals fulfill if they wish to advocate for romantic storylines involving aromantic characters?

Again, this one is good. It's basically my 3rd question but, yet again, more formal.

3. Describe the format and specifications outined for the essay mentioned in the post.

This is the part where the questions get bad. The exact details of the essay are irrelevant, other than the fact that they imply a formal, academic setting.

4. In your own words, explain the user's perspective on the autonomy of aromantic individuals in contrast to non-aromantic individuals when it comes to shipping characters.

This question seems to genuinely be a product of chatgpt pissing on the poor. The purpose of the post (and specifically the essay within) is to ask people who ship aromantic characters without being aromantic themself to consider said character's aromanticism instead of erasing it.

Meanwhile, chatgpt seems to think that the OP thinks that people who aren't aromantic should be forced by law or something to write an essay if they want to ship an aromantic character.

5. How does the Tumblr post reflect the user's views on representation and storytelling in relation to aromantic characters?

I think that this one is a bit too speculative, but it does actually relate to the OP's intended takeaway.

6. Discuss the potential implications of the requirements set forth in the post for writers and creators in the realm of fiction and fanworks.

This one is just a bit confusing. Chatgpt seems to be going off the assumption that OP is issuing a decree as the emperor of the world.

7. Reflect on whether you agree or disagree with the sentiments expressed in the post and provide reasons to support your viewpoint.

This could have been a "discuss with a mutual" question, and I actually did initially write a question like this one, but I ended up removing it.

Aromantiscism is already controversial enough and I fear that a discussion of whether OP's take on shipping aromantic characters is valid could quickly devolve into discussion on whether aromanticism itself is valid.

8. How might the user's approach impact discussions and representations of aromanticism in media and popular culture?

Yet again, chatgpt is taking the essay thing way too literally. Yes, forcing every single writer who isn't aromantic but wants to ship an aromantic character to write an essay about it would most likely lead to a decrease in people erasing their identities, but the essay isn't the point.

9. Consider the broader societal and cultural context in which this post is situated. How might prevailing attitudes towards romantic relationships influence reactions to the user's perspective?

Obviously historical context is important to keep in mind when you're reading/listening to/watching/whatever a text, but this question has almost nothing to do with reading comprehension. You need to understand the post to imagine how people would react, sure, but understanding how people would react to the post doesn't help you understand this post very much.

10. What insights can be gleaned from this post regarding the importance of diverse and inclusive storytelling in media and creative works?

This could be a discuss with a mutual question. The issue is that it's a bit to broad of a topic.

#not reading comprehension questions #ask #self post

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