#Essay about Political Expression

[writersbeware]

My Political Journey

            Growing up, probably like most kids, I paid little attention to world events. Until in the mid-1960s, when the threat of a war with Cuba, our school held bomb drills in the hallways. We’d be ushered out of our classrooms, then be told to sit on the floor, facing the wall. Cross our legs, bend over so that our foreheads touched our legs and cover our heads with our arms.            …

[balkanlila]

the most touching and the most influential aspect of elena's writing is that she takes these people who exist as representatives of the universe, of something intergal to human nature, their lives not in any way original, their destinies shared with thousands and she makes sure, almost instinctively, that we as readers remember them by their specific names. how many people have taken their own life for the same reasons franco mari did? how many people suffered alfonso's faith in exchange for one second of owning their identities? how many girls didn't get to go to school the way lila did? but that doesn't concern elena, does it... those numbers... she thinks of lila and she sees lila and these people who have done nothing but repeat the past exist in this space, exactly as elena remembers them, exist and belong entirely to themselves... these people are gifted originality and importance simply because this woman remembers them... and that means something!!!!!!!!!!

[agnesandhilda]

men used to go to war now they want to be the world's greatest striker

[pinkcadillaccas]

We need to stop making up random one sentence definitions for sexualities which always end up being wrong, exclusionary and transphobic. We have to return to manifestos.

[luna-azzurra]

Write Believable Intelligent Characters

╰ Let their intelligence show in how they notice things

Smart people aren’t always the ones talking, they’re the ones observing the tiny detail that everyone else misses. They connect dots faster. They clock micro-expressions. They’re already ten moves ahead while everyone’s still arguing about step one.

╰ Don’t make them know everything

The smartest characters have gaps. A genius hacker who can’t do small talk. A professor who’s never seen Shrek. An expert in ancient languages who has zero street smarts. Give them blind spots, and suddenly they feel real—not robotic.

╰ Let their intelligence shape how they argue

A clever character doesn’t always win by yelling louder. Sometimes they cut deep with one sentence. Sometimes they bait someone into proving their point for them. Or smile while delivering verbal chess moves that leave everyone stunned two scenes later.

╰ Smart doesn’t mean wordy

Sometimes the smartest thing your character can say is nothing. Sometimes it’s “Huh.” Or one line that lands like a hammer. Intelligence isn’t just about complexity, it’s about clarity. Bonus points if they say the thing everyone else was dancing around.

╰ Show them solving problems, not just explaining them

Whether it’s picking a lock or defusing a political standoff, let them act. Watching them think on their feet, adapt, and surprise people is way more compelling than giving them long-winded monologues about the history of poison.

╰ Let them struggle with being misunderstood

A smart character might say something that’s totally logical but lands like a slap. Or they assume people see the obvious when they don’t. Intelligence can be isolating. That tension makes them human.

╰ Don’t make them the author’s mouthpiece

If your “smart” character exists to deliver the moral of the story, they’ll feel like a soapbox in a trench coat. Let them be flawed, biased, wrong sometimes. Let them learn. Otherwise, they stop being a character and start being an essay in disguise.

╰ Make their intelligence emotional, too

Book smart is one thing. Emotional intelligence hits differently. Maybe they’re intuitive. Maybe they know how to read a room. Maybe they see through someone’s bravado in five seconds flat. Brains plus empathy? Lethal combo.

╰ Smart doesn’t mean nice

Intelligence can be cruel. Calculated. Detached. Don’t be afraid to let your clever character weaponize their smarts if that’s who they are. Sometimes the coldest characters are the ones who know exactly how to hurt you—and choose not to. Or do.

[cressidagrey]

Formidable

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary:  Andrea Stella figures out that Felicity Piastri is more than “just” Oscar’s wife. 

Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble and checks my science-y mumbo jumbo 😂

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

It started the way most breakthroughs did—not with a groundbreaking discovery, but with a tired engineer holding a half-wrinkled printout and a hopeful expression.

“Boss,” James said, hovering just inside the doorway of Andrea’s office. “I think you should read this.”

Andrea looked up from his laptop. “If it’s another CFD model from that Reddit forum, I swear—”

“It’s not. It’s from a paper. Academic. Legit. Published in Race Systems & Applied Motion last month.”

Andrea raised an eyebrow. “Obscure.”

“Very. It has like 20 readers,” the engineer agreed. “But I think it’s real. It’s clean. It’s sharp. It’s…” He hesitated. “We might want to test it.”

That got Andrea’s attention.

He took the paper and began to skim.

Title: Redefining Compliance: Adaptive Suspension Geometry Under Load-Sensitive Parameters for Mid-Field Chassis Configurations.

Andrea kept reading. It was dense—academic, yes—but it was also practical. It spoke the language of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. There were no ego traps. No unnecessary complexity. Just hard math and hard-earned insight.

Andrea flipped the page. Then another. His eyes caught a note referencing flex dynamics in chassis response curves and passive recovery lag.

It was correct. More than correct. It was insightful.

The author wasn’t spitballing ideas from afar—this was the work of someone who had lived in the theory and understood the application. Who referenced real-world tolerances. Racing examples. The math was sound. The diagrams were better than half the ones their CFD team managed.

Andrea flipped back to the byline.

Dr. F. Piastri.

Piastri. 

James grinned. “Fun coincidence in the name, right? He’s smart.”

Andrea didn’t correct him.

Because yes—coincidence. Probably. But something about it stuck in his brain, like a whisper he couldn’t quite place.

He read the essay in full that night—twice. It was elegant, sharp, and frustratingly precise in the way only truly experienced voices ever were. The type of clarity that came from years of not just understanding a concept, but translating it into reality.

The next morning, Andrea sent out an internal email.

Subject: Additional Works by Dr. F. Piastri If anyone has access to prior publications by this author, please forward them to me.

By the end of the week, his inbox was full.

One essay became three. Three became eleven. Eleven became twenty. 

Each one published under the name F.Piastri, buried in obscure journals and small-circulation engineering reviews that didn’t get traffic unless someone was either deeply curious or incredibly desperate. 

Andrea was both.

Each article was smarter than the last—strange, elegant engineering thought-pieces published across the most obscure academic mechanical journals Andrea had ever encountered. Niche ones. The kind that only the most obsessive minds contributed to, with names like Thermoelasticity in Microstructured Materials and Lateral Load Adaptation Quarterly.

F.Piastri had written:

An article about Load-dependent understeer in transitional corners (with math that Andrea double-checked twice because it was too clean).

A 2019 think-piece on long-run stability under thermal degradation.

An essay about Aerodynamic oscillation buffering for short-track endurance vehicles.

An article about the economic viability of 3D printed carbon struts under rotational shear (he actually flagged that one for McLaren Applied).

 A thesis that corrected a widely accepted torque model—buried in a conference archive.

A published rebuttal in Journal of Vehicle Design so politely worded it read like a love letter—until you realized she’d rewritten the reviewer’s assumptions line by line.

There was even one article on fluid dynamics that had been cited in a grad-level textbook from ETH Zurich. 

Andrea devoured them all.

He—She?—wrote like someone who saw the car before it was built. Who understood not just how suspension worked, but how it felt. How energy passed through a chassis not as force but as intent.

The writing style was sharp. Practical. Absolutely ruthless in its logic. There was clarity there—an elegance—that reminded him of only a few people he’d ever worked with.

It was revolutionary. It was poetic.

By the time he tracked down the doctoral thesis from Oxford, Andrea wasn’t breathing properly.

Reinforcement Through Flexibility: Dynamic Adaptation in Composite- Structured Performance Environments.

By: F. Piastri.

 Submitted: December 2022

Andrea stared at the name.

F. Piastri.

He stared for so long his tea went cold beside him.

His hands were shaking—not because of nerves, but because he already knew.

He opened the PDF. Skimmed past the table of contents. Scrolled through diagrams that made his heart stutter.

There was no photo. No biographical section. Just a clean Oxford University seal, 284 pages of dense, brilliant theory, and then—

A dedication.

To Oscar: For believing in a future that didn’t exist yet, and building it with me anyway. Every lap, every choice, every time—you’ve been my constant.

And to Bee: For reminding me that softness and strength aren’t opposites. You are the best thing I’ve ever helped create.

Andrea sat back in his chair like he’d been physically shoved.

Bee.

Oscar. 

F. Piastri. 

Felicity Piastri. 

Felicity.

Oscar’s wife.

Dr. F. Piastri wasn’t some reclusive academic or distant uncle with a gift for simulation modeling.

She lived in Oscar’s house.

 She packed his lunchbox.

 She raised their daughter.

 And she had published papers on suspension theory that half of F1 would kill to understand. Quietly. Efficiently. Correctly.

Andrea leaned back in his chair, stared at the ceiling for a long moment, and whispered:

“…Of course it’s his wife.”

Of course the quiet, composed driver who rarely raised his voice and always had one hand on the bigger picture had married someone brilliant. Of course she wasn’t just talented—she was a published expert with a doctorate from Oxford.

Not a coincidence. 

Not a mystery engineer.

Not some guy.

But Oscar’s wife.

Oscar Piastri—quiet, methodical Oscar—had married a genius.

A doctor of mechanical engineering from Oxford who wrote better technical documentation in a margin note than most engineers did in a year. Who published under initials. Who could probably solve half their handling inconsistencies while holding a toddler on her hip.

Andrea sat in silence for a full minute.

Then he exhaled. “...of course he did.”

He opened a new tab.

Email draft: 

To: Technical Team 

Subject: URGENT – Reference Reading Required Attached: Every single thing Dr. F. Piastri had ever published.

***

The meeting was meant to be quick.

Just a routine Monday touchpoint—debrief, run through media notes with Sophie, talk sponsor appearances, maybe discuss Oscar’s upcoming comms obligations.

Zak had rolled in with a protein shake.

Lando was lounging sideways in a chair like he’d melted into it.

Oscar had a protein bar and an expression of polite mildness, as usual.

Andrea, meanwhile, had not slept.

 Not because of the race.

 Because he’d spent the entire weekend reading Dr. Felicity Piastri’s entire body of work. Every published paper. Every obscenely niche journal article.

And her doctoral thesis.

He hadn’t meant to do it all in one sitting. He just couldn’t stop.

By 2 a.m. he was muttering things like “Of course she used Euler-Bernoulli assumptions, she’s too smart for non-parametric bullshit.”

 By 4 a.m., he’d highlighted her proposed solution to dampen micro-vibration load in corner exits.

 By 6 a.m., he had a headache, an existential crisis, and a desperate need to know: Why had Oscar Piastri never mentioned this?!

So at the end of the meeting—just as Sophie was wrapping up and Lando was aimlessly spinning a pen like a propeller—Andrea set down a file on the table.

Calmly. Casually. Like he hadn’t just had his entire mechanical worldview rattled by a woman who wasn’t even on the payroll.

“Oscar,” Andrea said, voice deceptively neutral. “Why didn’t you ever mention that your wife holds a doctorate in mechanical engineering?”

Oscar, halfway through eating his protein bar, blinked. “What?”

Andrea gestured vaguely, as if the thesis were still radiating brilliance from his desk. “Felicity. Doctorate. Thesis. Dozens of published papers. Half of them useful to our current car design issues. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Oscar blinked once. “Oh. Yeah. She gets bored sometimes.”

Andrea blinked back.

Lando stared like he’d been smacked with a front wing. “Wait—she got a doctorate?!”

Oscar nodded, chewing. “Yeah. Finished it in 2022. She was stuck in that horrible flat in Enstone while I was back and forth with Alpine, and she got bored. Wrote most of it at the kitchen table while Bee napped.”

Andrea just… stared. 

He had read the thesis. Studied it. The mathematical modeling alone had kept him awake at night—and she had apparently written it during toddler nap times, while stuck in a damp shoebox flat in Oxfordshire.

Zak looked up slowly from his tablet. “Your wife was bored. So she got a PhD in mechanical engineering.”

Oscar shrugged. “She already had the research mostly done before Bee was even born in 2020. She just had to write it up. Bee was napping a lot anyway.”

Sophie blinked. “She wrote a 200-page dissertation with a toddler in the house?”

Oscar just shrugged. “It helped that Bee liked the sound of the keyboard.”

Andrea turned to Zak, still stunned. “She predicted the kind of high-frequency oscillation we’re seeing this season. Two years ago. In a footnote.”

Lando leaned forward like he was watching a live feed of someone discovering aliens. “She’s just, like, a genius?” he asked, voice too loud, too incredulous. “And you never brought it up?”

Oscar just sighed. “She hates that word.”

Andrea just stared at him. “Oscar, she’s not just good. She’s formidable. Has she ever applied anywhere formally?”

Oscar looked genuinely confused. “Why would she apply anywhere?”

Andrea stared. “To work. In engineering. In motorsport. Academia.”

Oscar blinked. “She does work. She manages our lives, Bee, the house, and the chickens.”

Lando leaned toward Andrea, wide-eyed: “I’ve never felt dumber in my entire life.”

Andrea sighed. “Join the club.”

***

The kitchen smelled like vanilla and wood polish and faintly like chicken coop — which meant Felicity had mopped and baked and wrangled Mansell, the escape artist hen, all while probably rebalancing one of their stock portfolios.

Oscar dropped his bag by the door and leaned against the kitchen entryway.

Felicity was sitting at the table in her old university hoodie, feet bare, Bee curled up under her arm asleep with Button the frog as a pillow. There were spreadsheets open on one side of her laptop screen, a half-watched nature documentary on the other, and one of Bee’s plastic toy bulls standing solemnly in the middle of the table for reasons unknown.

He smiled.

God, he loved her.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Felicity glanced up. “Hey. Dinner’s in the oven. Bee passed out mid-pie crust.”

“Excellent,” Oscar said, dropping into the chair beside her. “Because I need carbs.”

She raised an eyebrow, equal parts amusement and curiosity. “Bad day?”

“No. Just... intellectually humbling.”

Felicity made a low amused noise and went back to her laptop. “Did Lando try to explain crypto again?”

Oscar snorted and reached over to carefully lift Bee into his lap, her curls warm against his hoodie. She barely stirred.

He could have let it sit. Saved it for later. But it was buzzing under his skin.

“Stella read your papers.”

That got her attention.

Felicity paused, her fingers stilled mid-scroll. “Which one?”

“All of them,” Oscar said. “Apparently it started with one of the engineers, who brought an article in from Race Systems & Applied Motion. Then he spiraled.”

“Ah,” Felicity murmured, unsurprised. “That one had a good diagram.”

“He found your thesis,” Oscar added.

This time she didn’t answer right away.

He reached for one of Bee’s crayons and twirled it idly in his fingers, watching her.

“He read the dedication,” he said, voice quieter now.

Felicity’s eyes softened in that way that always undid him a little. Always had.

“Did he say anything?” she asked.

Oscar smiled faintly. “He said you’re formidable.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Felicity laughed—not loud, not startled, just warm and wry and a little disbelieving.

“God help the man,” she said. “He must have hit the rebuttal piece from the Vehicle Design Journal. That one made a few engineers cry.”

Oscar grinned. “Yeah, well. He was halfway to building you a shrine by the end of the meeting. I also told him you got bored in Enstone and wrote your PhD while Bee was napping.”

Felicity gave him a look. “You make it sound like I was scrapbooking.”

“Weren’t you also doing that at the time?”

Felicity blinked. “...Okay, fair.”

Bee stirred slightly in his lap, a tiny sigh escaping her lips as she nuzzled deeper into his hoodie sleeve.

Oscar looked down at her—this tiny human they somehow made and raised—and then back at the woman across the table. 

Her hair was messier than usual, strands escaping her braid, and there was a faint flour smudge near her temple. She hadn’t bought herself a new pair of jeans in two years. She sometimes forgot to eat when she was buried in simulations. She once fixed the bathroom plumbing at midnight because she didn’t like how the guy from the hardware store spoke to her.

She was the smartest person he knew.

Oscar knew most people wouldn’t think it when they first met her. She smiled too easily. She didn’t correct anyone. She let others assume things—that she was just the girlfriend, just the wife, just the mother.

But she had a doctorate from Oxford, and more published academic papers than most career professors. She could hold court with race engineers and theoretical physicists in the same breath, then go home and teach Bee how to build a pulley system out of Lego and twine. She spoke in quiet, exact terms, and when she challenged people, she did it so gently they sometimes didn’t notice until it was too late.

He’d long since stopped being surprised by her. He’d just—normalized it. Integrated it. Felicity being a genius was like oxygen to him: invisible, essential, and easy to take for granted until someone else nearly passed out from the realization.

She was just Fliss to him. 

The woman who sold her designer bags to pay rent when her family cut her off. The mother of his child. His fiercest critic and his most devoted supporter. The one person he trusted without hesitation.

She didn’t want headlines or praise. She wanted quiet mornings and clever puzzles. She wanted Bee to grow up confident. She wanted Oscar to remember to eat something green.

She was the smartest person he knew — and she hated being called smart. So he didn’t. He just came home.

“He called you formidable,” he repeated. “And I agree. For what it’s worth.”

Felicity smiled then—slow and quiet, the kind that reached all the way to her eyes.

She leaned across the table and kissed his temple. “Thanks,” she said. “But if he asks me to consult, I’m charging him triple.”

Oscar laughed softly and ran a hand through Bee’s curls. “Deal.”

And he meant it. Because maybe it was easy for him to forget sometimes, tucked into the quiet rhythm of their life, that the world hadn’t caught up to how brilliant she was.

But he never stopped being proud of her.

Not for a second.

[medusas-daughter]

"how dare Sabrina do this album cover in the current political climate" do you not see how getting this outraged at a sexually charged photo is in fact very conservative and a symptom of the current political climate? I've read dirtier things on ao3. Hell I've written dirtier things on ao3. It's really not that scandalous.

"it's the same thing as those ads in the 50s that degraded women she's setting us back decades" she doesn't actually owe us a perfect critical gender theory essay on every album cover but it's also not the same?? The man is faceless she's center stage it's her sexuality on display not his desire. Also, and this is so fucking important, Sabrina is not just consenting she's the author of this. This is has nothing to do with women being forced on all fours to sell a car, this is a woman staging a fantasy with some anonymous body that happens to look male. I don't actually know if she means it a satire or just as a healthy expression of her sexuality and I'm not gonna project my own shit to pretend to know her intentions, but either way if you see it as degrading you're the one degrading her.

"if men enjoy it then she's pandering to them men are gonna enjoy men are gonna use it to degrade us" girl men have been known to "enjoy" anything from animals to babies, are you gonna accuse little girls of pandering to the male gaze? Men have been sexualising and degrading women whether they're covered head to toe or buck ass naked. But what you're saying sounds suspiciously like rape culture, so maybe check your own damn self on that.

"she's been using the lolita aesthetic she was never a feminist" she's been performing in full on lingerie what do you mean lolita? Just because she's short and hot doesn't make her a lolita have any of you actually read lolita??? Lolita is a twelve year old described by Humbert as being skinny boyish looking and her youth and innocence and lack of sexuality is what entices him the most about her. I beg you to stop associating lolita with sensuality and lingerie and bows and pink and to start actually reading books and if you have in fact read the book and fallen for the "nymphet" épitaphe Humbert gave her and ignored literally everything else then you're dumb and you need to stay out of every discourse ever until the end of time.

"if an incel would hang it in his bedroom then you've failed" let me tel you a story from the time a guy I went to school with watched a hijabi woman walk by and told me "I find hijab so sexy cause it's like she's teasing me and wants me to imagine what's underneath it" there's nothing you can do to make men or incels not desire you but you're choosing to attack women for it thinking you're better than that incel when you're literally just repackaging slut shaming.

Following the Sabrina tag and listening o her music means the algorithm is bombarding me with such rancid takes about her now that the general public has decided it's time to knock her down a peg and they're assigning morality to them just disliking her like just say you don't like her and stop listening to her it is that easy but don't use it to perpetuate even more misogyny. It doesn't make you sound smarter it makes you sound like a radfem and I mean that with all disrespect.

[lordsovorn]

Strange how people keep saying that "Shuro hates in Laios the same traits he supposedly loves in Falin", which is...

Seriously, look at him and his dialogue - does he hate Laios for being a monster freak? For being nerdy and weird and loving nature? For eating bugs? No, that's not it.

Shuro hates* Laios for being so profoundly socially inept (from his perspective).

The key difference between Touden siblings isn't that Falin is a pretty girl - the key difference is that Falin is caring and accommodating to other people, and Laios is awkward and unobservant, seemingly egotistic at the surface level.

(others have already written wonderful essays on why and how they grew up like that)

It has to be noted that Shuro is a sheltered noble from a land where proper etiquette is paramount - he is used to people being incredibly subtle AND incredibly observant around him. He comes from a high-context culture where everyone assumes things based on lots of social cues and shared understanding of context. That's not even a matter of being neurotypical, that's his culture (in addition to his personality and brain chemistry)

He is also rather introverted as person and doesn't have many friends. Even his attachments and emotions in childhood are expressed subtly, in a restrained and proper way. He is polite and refined, perfectly fitting into his house's expectations - even if that means repressing his childhood interests and little weird joys.

In that particular way, the opposite of Laios.

Shuro hates* Laios for being the opposite of the image HE was grown into. This strange man is so utterly insensitive and so open about it - he has no sense of shame (like Shuro), no tact and ability to shut up (like Shuro), no restraint (like Shuro). Look at him talking non-stop about things he wants to talk about and having fun (unlike Shuro) while completely overestepping Shuro's obvious boundaries!

The boundaries, I must say, that not only never before needed to be spelled out, but in Shuro's upbringing and culture would be as ridiculous to spell out as "I want to pee, so I'll go to the bathroom and remove my pants and sit on the toilet and release the sphincter holding my pee in my pee bladder"

Falin is not only awesome in his eyes for being weird and in touch with nature, but for being very delicate, observant and caring AT THE SAME TIME. She is a gem in Shuro's eyes, a miracle of his dreams.

In Falin, he not only sees a nerd-freak - he sees a hope for an introverted, polite, restrained person like himself to reconnect with that love for nature and nerdiness and freakiness.

Laios isn't like that. Laios is unobservant for subtle cues - and so a lot more loud, persistent, enthusiastic and unwittingly annoying. Yes, Falin has all that inside her too - but she restrains herself in order not to be a burden. And so does Shuro, in order to fit expectations. There's similarity between them in that regard, between two introverted and restrained weirdos. And a hope for a kindred, more open soul, from the more restrained Shuro's perspective.

* - I don't think Shuro's feelings to Laios are properly described as hate. Yeah, in his darkest moment he says that, but honestly it felt more like an accumulated stress from a continuous cultural and personal misunderstanding, rather than a profound personal hate.

...

What was the post about?.. Oh, yeah, Shuro loving Falin and disliking Laios. That's not him being too horny to think, that's him loving in Falin the defining difference between the two - they aren't gender-swapped clones, after all. Give my boy some respect and nuance.

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

[txttletale]

this is in good faith but I genuinely don't understand what you mean when you generalize all college work into "if it can be done by chatgpt it's busywork and the teacher is lazy". there's plenty of English assignments and other writing assignments that are based on one's personal life or fictionalized stories that would not require any citations and are just testing your ability to write a compelling narrative, no? As well as the ability to look over chatgpt work and replace any ghost citations with real ones- obviously this takes a bit more skill than just copy pasting with no edits but I'd still argue looking over essentially a prewritten essay and adding citations is not the skill meant to be tested by most history assignments asking students to think critically and formulate their own argument or whatever.

i mean i want to be absolutely clear that i don't think that teachers in higher education are 'lazy', when i criticize assignment that would give chatgpt a passing grade. like i was in academia for a stint, i am extremely aware that there are a lot of external pressures on these people and they are mostly just exhausted and doing their best -- my point is moreso that the entire system is fundamentally broken.

like, i think that if you're writing essays at a university level you should already be able to write coherent paragraphs about a topic -- and the fact that universities under capitalism are an institution of bourgeois class accrediation rather than institute of 'learning' is kind of made super apparent by the fact that's not the case, right? like to be ultra-clear, my position is that higher education as it exists in much of the world is a fundamentally broken institution and the 'chatgpt cheating epidemic' is a reflection of much of this.

i mean like, very simply, right, if the point of doing a history degree is to learn about history, why are people who've gone into significant debt to do a history degree getting a computer to write their essays when they themselves have signed up to the Learning About History Institution? and the obvious answer is that, well, the idea that universities are institutes of learning is a polite fiction: the university administration wants to maximize its student numbers (because it turns a profit) & the students are there to get a degree so they can get higher-paying office jobs. so this results in a bunch of people doing degrees in Whatever and So-and-So who aren't any good at research or writing (so grading standards have to be low) and who don't actually give a shit about Whatever and So-and-so (and so are incentivized very heavily to cheat).

so, like, i understand i came off as very glib, but i wasn't trying to do a personal attack on university course teachers or anything -- just express that i think that (as usual) the New Scary Technology is not so much introducing a new structural problem as it is making unavoidably obvious one that has been there all along.

[riddlesbunny]

busy woman

summary: As a dedicated Ravenclaw, you have no time for distractions, not even the charming Theodore Nott… unless.

pairing: Theo Nott x Ravenclaw!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, mentions of alcohol, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, p in v sex, lmk if I missed anything pls 18+ MDNI

note: send requests :))

Although you aren’t a fan of stereotypes, there is no denying the sorting hat chose the perfect house for you. You take great pride in your smarts and aim for academic excellence.

Extracurriculars, as far as you’re concerned, are just that—extra. And you have little interest in anything that pulls you away from your studies. Even when your housemates try to get you to join clubs or attend social events, you usually politely decline.

You have high standards for yourself, and there is no shame in that. If you want a successful career at the Ministry of Magic one day, you need to keep a steady head on your shoulders.

However, you aren’t a total prude. One evening, curiosity got the best of you and led you to a party in the Slytherin common room. You were overworked, on the verge of being burnt out, so when one of your girlfriend’s invited you to a party you couldn’t bring yourself to decline.

To make a long story short, you ended up taking one too many shots of firewhisky and landed yourself in Theodore Nott’s bed.

Before that evening you would have considered Theo an acquaintance at best. He was in a few of your classes, you had worked on a few projects together, and even occasionally engaged in small talk. But since the party he’s barely even looked in your direction. Which was fine. Right?

Days later, as you’re busy editing your Potions essay, a shadow falls across your paper. Looking up, you meet the familiar green eyes of the Slytherin boy. He hesitates before speaking, causing your anxiety to spiral.

“Did you need something?” You blurt out.

“I need your help,” he admits, “I’m struggling in Transfiguration, and McGonagall suggested I find a tutor.”

You’re caught off guard because let’s be honest: there’s no way this is just about tutoring. Not with the way he’s looking at you, all lazy smirks and knowing eyes, like he’s already expecting you to say yes. Like he already knows you won’t say no.

And he’s right. You should say no—because the last time you let yourself get caught up with Theo, you ended up tangled in his sheets and completely at his mercy, but you won’t. You can’t.

After a long pause, you nod, “Alright. I guess,” you shrug, “you can come to my dorm tonight.”

His expression softens with relief, “thank you, bella! I appreciate this, truly.”

You sit on the edge of your bed, nervously twisting the hem of your sweater between your fingers.

You had agreed to this. Invited him, even. But now, as you wait for Theo to arrive, doubt creeps in. What if this is a mistake? What if things became more complicated than they already were? You had spent so much time convincing yourself that what happened at the party was nothing—a fleeting moment, a distraction you couldn’t afford. Yet here you were, heart racing, palms slightly clammy.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a swift knock.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stand. With one last deep breath, you cross the room and reach for the door handle, fingers trembling slightly.

And then, you open it and there is Theo, looking handsome as ever, leaning against the door frame.

“Ciao, bella signora,” he greets with a smile. Hi, pretty lady.

"Thanks for doing this," he continues, his voice deep and warm. His eyes scan over your body quickly before settling on yours again.

"Hey,” you swallow, “no problem." You try to play it cool, but your breath hitches as he moves past you into the room.

Theo brushes past you eagerly, “so, where do we start?" he asks, turning around, his dimples making an appearance. His large frame seems out of place in your small room.

"Let's sit here," you say, patting the spot next to you sit on the bed.

He sits down beside you, leaving enough space that you could mistake it for being polite. But not too much. His leg rests just inches away from yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from him.

You start by explaining the basics of Transfiguration, your fingers instinctively moving through the air to illustrate your points.

Things are going fine until it is apparent that Theo is bored. He uses his quill to pester you. Lightly brushing it against the tip of your nose, then down the curve of your jaw.

"Would you quit it?!" you snap at him but he only grins wickedly at your reaction.

“Just trying to keep things interesting, fiend for learning," he replies smoothly.

Your cheeks flush red as he drags the feather lightly across your lips. Before you know it, the quill has dropped and his hand takes its place.

Tension fills the rooms and although you want to berate him again, you don’t.

Theo slides his thumb over your bottom lip, tracing it before gently pushing it inside. Instinctively, you suck on it, betraying yourself.

"There’s the good girl I know,” he murmurs.

His thumb strokes your tongue, exploring the soft warmth inside. His other hand joins in at tormenting you, sliding up your thigh slowly until it reaches the hem of your skirt.

Theo's fingers slide higher, pressing gently beneath your skirt. Your breath hitches when he finds the damp fabric of your panties and his eyes gleam darkly, as if questioning how long you've been wet.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and replaces it with his lips, capturing them softly. You lean into the kiss, craving more as his tongue parts your lips while his hands explore your body like a sculptor, feeling every contour and curve. He slips one hand between your legs, cupping your pussy roughly through the damp fabric of your panties.

You whimper as he grips the front of your panties, pulling sharply until they rip away easily. His warm hand presses against your bare mound and he chuckles approvingly at how wet you are for him.

Two thick fingers rub along your slit, spreading your wetness all over.

"Mmm," he moans, grinding his palm against your clit. He hooks those same fingers into you, filling you up as sets a steady pace pumping his digits in and out of you.

You gasp at the sudden invasion, your hips bucking forward as his arm pins you down.

"Look at that tight little hole sucking my fingers in so greedily, who knew you were such a dirty little slut under all that prude charm?" Theo growls, before adding a third finger.

Stretching you wider as he pumps into you with vigor. "I bet you're just dying to have my cock buried deep inside you," he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

You groan in response, nodding. Theo smirks at your eagerness and slowly withdraws his fingers. He pushes you back onto the bed and unbuckles his pants, revealing his massive cock to you.

He kneels over you, your legs spread wide. You look up at him, meeting his gaze as he slowly guides himself to your entrance. He toys with you, rubbing his head against your clit and swollen lips.

“Please, Theo…”

Theo grabs your legs, folding them upwards so that your calves rest against his chest. His grip tightens, holding you in position as he teases your dripping entrance once more.

Theo looks directly into your eyes as he finally enters you, his thick cock stretching you open. A low moan escapes your lips as he sinks deeper, the top of his cock already hitting your sweet spot.

You feel yourself tightening around him, so snug that each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. Theo lets out a groan as he drives into you relentlessly, the force of his thrusts causing your body to shift up the bed as wetness pools from your core and down your ass cheeks.

Your pathetic cries fill your tiny dorm room as Theo pummels you mercilessly, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"Fuck, I missed this pussy, bella. Y'know that? Been thinkin' about you every night since I fist got a taste."

Your cheeks burn at his words.

"So. Fucking. Tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth between thrusts.

You bite your lip, stifling another moan as Theo pushes into you even further. Sweat beading down your forehead, threatening to cloud your vision.

"Oh god... I'm gonna-" you cry out loudly, digging your fingernails into his forearms as an intense orgasm rips through you.

Theo doesn't let up, he keeps fucking you hard throughout your climax, your pussy clenching tightly around him. "Bloody Hell," he swears, pounding into you as your muscles ripple with aftershocks.

"Please, Theo I can't take it anymore!" you cry out, but he is relentless, "keep taking it, baby. Let that pretty brain of yours turn off for once.”

He increases his pace as his thumb finds its way to your clit and he works the digit in circles around your sensitive bud, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. His cock pounds into you, filling every inch of your pussy— you’ve never felt so full.

Your tits bounce wildly as Theo's tempo increases, his efforts fueled by primal desire. He drops your legs and grips your hips tightly, changing angles with ease. You’re so overwhelmed that it almost hurts. Your body tingles with anticipation as Theo continues to plunder you. Every nerve ending is on fire, your brain hazy with lust, you are nothing but a babbling mess.

That familiar feeling of euphoria burns within as white hot electricity crashes over you.

“Yes! Yes!” You chant as Theo increases speed again, lifting your ass up slightly for better penetration.

Your soaked pussy clings to him, each stroke drawing wet sounds from your joining.

"You're close," you pant, barely able to form words as his thick length fills you completely, "that’s right mi amor," Theo grunts, slamming into you with newfound urgency as he leans down, gripping your hair and pulling you into a bruising kiss.

"Cum with me, bella," he demands against your lips, "c'mon, one more, you can do it.

Your nails dig into Theo's shoulders as your orgasm rips through you like a thunderstorm, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Theo lets out a guttural groan, his balls tightening as he releases hot streams of cum inside you. He throbs deeply within you, savoring the sensation of your snug walls milking him dry.

Theo collapses onto you, panting heavily as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He pulls out slowly, watching as his spent cock pops free from your swollen folds.

"Thank you," he murmurs, "for everything."

This was only the beginning of your very complicated relationship with Theo Nott.

[22ayla21]

Fathers and Their Children Part II

The Twisted Wonderland boys as fathers.

Third year Second year First year

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle, being a proponent of order, tries to raise his children with discipline, but after the events of his youth, he realizes that excessive strictness can be harmful. He demands respect, but doesn't turn his home into a barracks. He has certain rules (like "Don't play with food at the table" and "Do your homework before sunset"), but he's no longer the boy who blindly followed his mother's rigid norms.

Although he doesn't always express his feelings in words, his children know he loves them. He's willing to sit by a sick child's bedside at night, gently tucking in their blanket as they fall asleep, and brew their favorite tea if they've had a tough day.

He's proud of his son, especially when he shows intelligence and diligence in his studies. However, he's very soft towards his daughter—she's the only one who can persuade him to break a rule or simply give in to her cute eyes. If she asks for a little more time before bed or an extra cookie, he initially shakes his head sternly, but a few minutes later, he gives in.

When his mother comes to visit, the atmosphere in the house immediately becomes tense. She thinks Riddle is too lenient with the children and tries to impose her "order." For example, she might criticize her son for his too "weak" control over the family, demanding that the children sit with perfectly straight backs and eat only "proper" food.

• The children try to escape her in any way possible. If she comes, they suddenly become "very busy" in their rooms or find urgent errands outside.

• The son sometimes openly protests, saying, "Dad, you're not going to make me sit and listen to her for hours, are you?!"

• The daughter initially tries to be polite but then just hides behind her mom.

Despite his strictness, he tries to instill in his children truly important principles: respect, responsibility, and a thirst for knowledge. He's proud that his son and daughter aren't afraid to voice their opinions, even if they contradict his views.

Sometimes, when no one is watching, he allows himself to be just a dad, not a strict head of the family. He might play chess with the children or even magic games, although he later pretends it was purely "for educational purposes."

If the children misbehave, he doesn't yell or make a scene. Instead, he gives them logical punishments: for example, skipping dinner (but with tea, because he's not cruel) or writing an essay on why it's important to respect rules. But if someone hurts each other or anyone else—then he's truly strict.

Riddle isn't perfect, but he tries to be the best father he can be. His children help him understand that sometimes it's okay to just be happy, even if the world around them isn't perfect.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie, of course, loves his son, but raising a child is a real headache. He might grumble when the boy makes a mess or asks too many questions, but deep down, he's proud of how clever and cunning the kid is becoming.

His son is a real little rascal. He quickly figures out how to get what he wants with minimal effort: "Dad, if I help you clean up, will you give me a meat pie?" Ruggie initially laughs, but then realizes that's exactly how he taught him.

Although he's quite relaxed about parenting, he won't let his son be lazy or slack off. If the boy starts being too blatantly cunning, he'll put him in his place: "Listen, son, if you want to be smart, at least don't show it."

Ruggie believes it's important for his son to be able to take care of himself. He teaches him to cook, find easy ways to earn money, and even pull off small adventures: "If you want a tasty meal, help get it first!"

If he's spending time with his wife, his son is sure to periodically steal his mother's attention. For example, he might sit between them when they're relaxing or deliberately demand that Mom read him a story instead of Dad. Ruggie just sighs, "Well, you've got quite the character, little bandit..."

Sometimes, he's surprised to see how independent his son is becoming. It fills him with both pride and a slight melancholy, because once this little one held onto his tail, and now he's handling his own affairs.

When his son starts laughing, the sound is a mix of childish giggles and Ruggie's signature "hyena laugh." He's scared people more than once by suddenly bursting into loud laughter at an inappropriate moment. Ruggie just smirks, "Oh, why are you so scared? It's just a kid!"

Ruggie teaches him the main principle: "You can be smart, you can be strong, but it's best to be flexible." He passes on his experience, but also allows his son to make his own mistakes so he can learn from them.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul thought his daughter would be a perfect, obedient child who would share his love for intellectual games and business. However, reality turned out to be more complicated: the little girl was too curious, energetic, and inherited his cunning mind, but was much more free-spirited than he expected.

Azul often tries to act like a strict but fair father, but his daughter has a special talent for disarming him with her spontaneity. If she tugs on his sleeve with a sincere "Daddy, play with me," he, of course, initially feigns displeasure, but eventually gives in, especially if Floyd is nearby and already hinting that "daddy's a wimp."

The daughter inherited his traits: on land, she looks like a regular human, but when she gets wet, she turns into an octopus. This was a surprise for Azul, but he quickly adapted. However, he's very worried about how she'll perceive her dual nature. He remembers suffering from insecurity himself, so he does everything to make his daughter not feel inferior and be proud of who she is.

The first time the little girl realized she wasn't like the other kids on land, she was scared. Azul gently explained to her that it was her strength, not her weakness. Inspired by his own experience, he showed her how to use her extra limbs in the water—for example, to play with multiple toys at once or scare Uncle Floyd.

Azul tends to be overprotective of his daughter, especially when it comes to water. He fears she might be rejected like he was as a child. He even considered limiting her contact with water, but eventually realized it wasn't the solution. Instead, he teaches her to be proud but discreet—"use your power, but don't show it off to everyone."

He started teaching his daughter business skills early. At five, she could already negotiate for extra sweets, and at seven, she could give him such a convincing look that he'd sign a "contract" for an extra hour of playtime before bed. Jade, watching this, once remarked, "Looks like another cunning one is growing up."

Floyd is the uncle who's always fun (and a bit dangerous). He was the first to teach the girl to joke and be a little mischievous. Jade, in turn, taught her patience and manipulation—Azul doesn't like it, but he understands that his daughter's skills can be useful.

Every time the little girl says this, Azul has a bad feeling. It usually means she's found some loophole in the rules, just like he did as a child.

Azul wants his daughter to grow up confident and not repeat his mistakes. He does everything to make her accept her nature and be strong. However, he fears that one day she'll face the same cruelty he did as a child. Therefore, he always reminds her:

"You're special not because you have octopus tentacles or human legs. You're special because you're you."

Jade Leech

From early childhood, Jade teaches his daughter not only etiquette and manners but also the art of subtle manipulation. He tells her how to choose her words, when to smile, and when to remain silent. At the same time, he never forces her to follow his methods—he simply explains how to manage a situation more conveniently, should the need arise.

He's not a strict father, but if someone dares to offend his daughter, he'll act as he always does—calmly, subtly, but inevitably. The offender might not even realize they're being hunted until their life gradually turns into chaos.

From a young age, Jade takes his daughter on hikes through forests and mountains, telling her about rare plants and creatures. He loves to watch her discover the world with delight. However, if someone tries to instill fear of nature in her, he'll only smirk and say, "It's not predatory beasts you should fear, but those who hide behind kind smiles."

Jade always admires his daughter's uniqueness, her ability to change form in water. He doesn't consider it a flaw; on the contrary, he's proud of it and teaches her to be the same. He might ask with a light mockery, "Have you decided where you prefer to live—on land or in water?" However, he never pressures her choice.

When she first transforms into a moray eel, Jade looks at her with a sparkle in his eyes, slowly claps his hands, and says with a gentle smile, "Ah, how lovely. You're simply charming. Want to learn how to hunt underwater?" Then he teaches her to swim, feel the currents, and use her predator instincts.

He explains to his daughter that humans and sea creatures live by different rules. In water, you can follow instincts, but on land, words and subtle maneuvers are important. "It's all about balance, my dear. Isn't it interesting to know when to smile and when to show your teeth?"

His brother, of course, is very fond of his niece and often takes her on chaotic adventures. Jade doesn't forbid it but comments with a light smile, "Just don't let Floyd drag you into some adventure that'll be hard to get out of."

When his daughter first tries to pull off some cunning game or manipulation, Jade, of course, notices. However, instead of scolding her, he nods approvingly and says, "Not bad. But try to make it a bit more subtle next time."

Floyd Leech

Floyd laughed when he found out he was having twins. "Haha, what a coincidence! Or maybe it's fate?~" he joked. But when the children were born, he wasn't laughing anymore—he was completely thrilled. Two little creatures, just like him and Jade once were... only now they were his own children.

Floyd eagerly awaited the children's first contact with water. He knew they had inherited not only his appearance but also his nature. And when it finally happened—their skin covered in patterns, and their legs replaced by flexible moray eel tails—he couldn't help but laugh with joy: "Waaah, there you go! Now you're real little moray eels!~" He proudly swims with them, teaches them to dive and move in water like predators, telling them it's their family's "natural state."

Like Floyd, the children have a capricious nature. One moment they're laughing and hugging, and the next, they're sulking and refusing to talk to anyone. And they both quickly lose interest in things...

Floyd just shrugs:

"Well, that's normal! They're mine!~"

However, even if Jade admits that the children are too headstrong, Floyd only replies:

"Come on, let them enjoy life!~"

As with everyone else, Floyd doesn't use ordinary names for them. For example, he might call them "Little Eel" and "Gill Bubble." If the children try to protest, he just laughs and says they should be grateful they weren't named something like "Tiny Octopus."

Despite his playful and capricious nature, Floyd is a caring father. If the children are unwell, he instantly switches and becomes attentive. If someone offends them—no matter who, child or adult—he'll deal with that person.

"Huh? He upset you? Well, I'll have a word with him...~" he says, his smile turning frighteningly dark.

Although he loves his children, he sometimes acts like he's not their father but an older brother. He might support their pranks, take them fishing, come up with new tricks. If his wife looks at him disapprovingly, he just puts on an innocent face and says, "Well, they need to have fun!~"

When the children are sad or scared, Floyd doesn't comfort them with words—he just grabs them and squeezes them in a tight hug (of course, he controls the strength of the hug). His warmth and closeness quickly restore their good mood.

"Hey, don't mope, my little eel!~"

Kalim Ali-Asim

Kalim is the parent who's always ready to play, come up with adventures, and throw noisy parties for his children. He happily organizes home picnics, jumps on pillows with the kids, pretending to be dangerous sandstorms, and even lets them ride on his back like a camel.

His children never lack anything. Kalim strives to surround them with care and attention, buying them the best toys, sweets, and gifts, just to see them happy. However, sometimes his generosity goes too far, and Jamil (who's still in his life) has to remind him that parenting isn't just spoiling.

Kalim is proud of his sons, even if they're completely different. One might be cheerful and easygoing, while the other is more serious and responsible, but he praises them both equally. He sincerely rejoices in their successes, and even if one of them fails, he supports them with phrases like, "Don't worry, you'll definitely manage! Just try again!"

Kalim simply adores his youngest daughter and always carries her in his arms. She can ask for anything—and he'll fulfill her wish immediately. Sometimes her older brothers even get jealous, but Kalim sincerely loves them all equally. The daughter quickly realizes that Dad is soft and learns to use it to her advantage.

He doesn't like to scold children and, if they do something wrong, he's more likely to explain the situation gently than to punish them strictly. Perhaps because of this, his children sometimes get out of control, but at such moments someone (like their mom or Jamil) has to intervene to restore discipline.

Before bedtime, he tells the children stories about distant lands and magical creatures, sometimes adding elements from his own adventures. He also sings them lullabies, but gets so carried away that the song turns into a real concert with dancing.

If someone offends his child, Kalim is the first to rush to their defense, even if he doesn't fully understand what's happening. He might innocently approach the offender and say, "Hey, let's just be friends, okay?"—but if that doesn't work, he'll do everything to ensure his child doesn't suffer again.

Despite his naivety and clumsiness, Kalim is the kind of father who teaches children to see the good in the world, not to be afraid to dream, and to always remain kind. He wants his children to grow up happy and free, not intimidated or limited by strict rules.

Jamil Viper

Jamil treats his daughter as the most precious treasure in his life. He is ready to turn into dust anyone who dares to offend her, but at the same time he tries not to suppress her freedom. However, if someone even thinks of upsetting her - this person will instantly disappear from his social circle.

He is not the kind of father who will yell or punish with words. He does not even need to do this - one cold look is enough for the child to understand that he has gone too far. However, he is never really angry with his daughter, even if she has done something wrong. He sighs, explains the mistakes and helps to correct them, but inside he is already planning how to prevent chaos next time.

Jamil teaches her everything he knows from an early age. He teaches her discipline, strategy, dancing and even cooking, but he never pressures - if she does not like something, he simply suggests trying something else. However, one thing is a must - self-defense. No one should threaten his daughter, so he makes sure that she can stand up for herself.

Jamil is a master at cooking, and of course his daughter gets the most delicious and exquisite dishes. Even if she accidentally spills spices or spills something on the table, he doesn’t get angry - he just quietly cleans up the mess and continues to teach her how to mix flavors correctly.

If his daughter comes to him with an offended face and says: “Abi, he offended me!”, Jamil will not start a showdown, but this person will disappear from her circle. Before she even has time to understand what happened, the problem is already solved.

Despite all his seriousness, Jamil cannot refuse his daughter. She is the only person in front of whom he loses his restraint. If she asks for five more minutes before bed? Good. If she wants him to read her fairy tales until she falls asleep? Of course. If she wants to sit on his shoulders while he works? Why not.

Jamil never says it out loud, but he is more proud of his daughter than anyone else in the world. Even if she just says something smart or takes a step forward in her studies, he smiles to himself, knowing that she will definitely achieve everything she wants. He will not answer right away. Maybe he will say something neutral to avoid unnecessary conversations. But when he is alone, he always knows the answer. His beloved daughter.

Silver Vanrouge

Despite his tendency to fall asleep at unexpected moments, Silver sincerely tries to be a good father. He listens to his daughter with amazing patience, even if he himself is already on the verge of sleep. Even if he falls asleep next to his daughter, the slightest strange sound or her restlessness instantly wakes him up, and he is immediately on guard.

Even when she was a baby, he often rocked her in his arms. Even as she grows older, he continues to do this, although not as often. He often takes on the task of lulling the baby to sleep, but, as a rule, falls asleep faster himself. Sometimes the daughter just lies next to her and watches her dad already sweetly dozing, and her mother laughs at it.

Silver rarely raises his voice and always prefers to explain everything softly, but if his daughter is in danger, his calmness will instantly be replaced by cold-blooded determination.

He wants his daughter to be safe, so from childhood he teaches her the basics of fencing and defense. Of course, in a soft form - with a toy sword or a wooden stick.

Lilia simply adores her granddaughter, and she reciprocates his feelings. They arrange fun games for her together, and then Silver only sighs tiredly, watching how his father has again taught the baby some “useful” prank.

If his daughter creates a little chaos in the house, he does not scold, but simply carefully analyzes the consequences and, if necessary, gently explains why it is not worth doing.

He is sure that his daughter has inherited her mother's beauty and character, but Lilia always corrects him with a smirk: "She is so much like you!" Despite all his gentleness, if someone offends his daughter, Silver becomes incredibly serious. That same warrior's look flashes in his eyes, and no one doubts that he will do anything to protect her.

[mythalism]

i feel like all of my pondering and analyzing and criticizing veilguard over the past few months has actually truly given me a better understanding of what dragon age meant to me, what about it specifically was so meaningful, and why, as a result, veilguard felt so wrong. it took a while for me to figure it out. about three full months of relentless essay writing, actually. but i think if you had asked me a few years ago what the core of my love for dragon age was, whatever answer i gave would not have truly gotten to the root of it, because i think i had to experience the disappointment of veilguard to fully understand why i love dragon age. and ive realized that core is that i loved how the previous dragon age entries demand so much of the player, and deliberately prompt introspection and critical, often political, thought.

dragon age games have historically forced the player to be self-reflective and introspective about their worldview and beliefs. solas is obviously a fantastic example, as he was deliberately written to be a reflection of the player in order to prompt them to reflect on how they treat people, how our expectations of people influence their behavior, and how people are pushed to extremes and turned into monsters or saved by love and kindness. how do people become monsters? what drives them to blow up buildings or start rebellions or destroy the world as you know it? are they right or wrong? does it even matter? how did you contribute to this? are you innocent? it puts these insane, politically and morally charged situations in your face and forces you to confront them. slavery, a refugee crisis, poverty, class disparities, racism, foreign occupation, the list goes on, and you are not given the option to look away or be a bystander. you have to ACT. you have to choose, you have to make judgements, you have to take responsibility and explore your role in this world as someone with the capacity to act upon it, to make your will a reality, to fail, to make mistakes. i honestly can't think of any other video game that does this to the same extent? nor any media at all because the act of being IN the world as one of it's people through the act of role-playing is essential to how it provokes this experience in the player. its ballsy. they deliberately try to make you uncomfortable. these games are full of liars, deceivers, betrayers. the games themselves lie to you. its character try to deceive you. did you catch it? or were you fooled? what else might you be fooled by? who else might be lying to you? in the game? in real life? and then you get to play it again knowing the end, and what the game prompts changes with your new knowledge. now it asks, do you forgive them? what makes someone worthy of forgiveness? where do you draw the line? what do you think?

i dont think i realized until recently how impactful this was for me considering how i first got into dragon age at 16 years old. i dont think i had experienced anything up to that point that would put a situation like judging a war criminal who ordered the deaths of children or another war criminal who just left me to die and orchestrated a near-coup or a traumatized terrorist who just blew up a church right in my face, and said MAKE A DECISION. and i didnt know it at the time, but looking back i can see how valuable it was for me at that age to have what was effectively an avenue of exploration and self-expression of all of these moral and political issues that i was grappling with as a young adult. i played inquisition for the first time just months before i voted in my first presidential primary. i already had a political consciousness at this point, but it was nonetheless new and vulnerable and still blossoming into something more concrete. inquisition, then, almost provided a sort of political, moral and personal sandbox for me from ages 16-20 to better help me understand myself in relation to the world. the RPG-ness allowed me to put myself into these situations - like the mage-templar war and its metaphor for mass incarceration and police brutality - while i was also simultaneously grappling with and trying to understand these issues in real life. having dragon age to help me further unpack my own beliefs and conception of these issues was undeniably impactful. it provided a space, through a narrative i enjoyed and cared about, to make choices and judgement calls and better understand who i was, and what felt right to me. it asked, "what do you think?"

veilguard lacks this. completely. and lets be clear that the previous games did not always do a perfect job. many of these depictions are messy and harmful and problematic, but they at least, by extension of their own existence in a narrative that forces you to THINK and JUDGE and DECIDE, give me the space and opportunity to judge them as messy, as problematic, as harmful. i can confidently say that i think da2 is too sympathetic to the templars as an organization because the fact that da2 presents me with so many narrative conflicts regarding the templar organization allows me to not just make in-game decisions and play as a staunch advocate for mage freedom and circle abolition, but to form opinions on the game itself by extension. i can confidently say that i believe the qunari's portrayal is islamophobic because the game has prompted me so many times; what do i think about the qunari? what do i think about the oppression of the elves? what do i think about dorian being a seemingly good person but defending the practice of slavery? who should rule orzammar; the progressive asshole or the conservative traditionalist? do i forgive loghain? do i forgive anders? do i forgive solas? this in-world critical thinking about issues in thedas leads to meta critical thinking. further questions naturally follow -> what message did the writers intend to send through anders? how can i notice the echoes of how this story came into fruition in the shadow of 9/11? what do solas's endings tell me about the writers view of retributive punishment? how is bioware's portrayal of the dalish, as inspired by indigenous north americans, reflective of deep-seated anti-indigenous canadian sentiment? why did the writers stop prompting these hard questions at all in veilguard? did they only like it when it was about characters, not when it led to critical thinking about them and the company as a whole? through these processes of in-world interrogation, i am inevitably invited to analyze the effectiveness of their narrative portrayals and the writing itself. perhaps this is why dragon age is so famous for its discourse lol.

ive said before that im not sure that veilguard could ever have been as impactful for me as the previous games, partly because when you are 16 everything is more impactful because your brain is an eager sponge, unless it did something that really resonated with me as an adult. but what it should have been, at the very least, is something that could have been as impactful and formative on a current 16 year old that sees a gif on tumblr and decides to check out the game, as inquisition was to me 10 years ago. and im sure there are teenagers and younger adults out there playing this game and loving it and loving the characters and the world and thinking its great, good fun. thats great. however it fundamentally cannot have the same profound, developmentally catalytic experience it had on me because it simply does not challenge the player. it does not prompt them to question their own beliefs and the power structures within their lives. it does not prompt them to reflect on the political narratives they may have been fed all their lives. it does not confront them with the sorts of topics that get books on banned lists in florida and force them to bear witness, to think deeper, to feel guilt or horror at the outcome of your own poorly-made decision, to make moral judgements, to make mistakes, and to live with the consequences.

i think i now understand why veilguard was so disappointing to me and ultimately would be a failure in my eyes no matter if i enjoyed the combat or the exploration or whatever other shiny coat of paint sits atop it. veilguard does not ask much of you. it does not prompt any sort of introspection or interrogation of your presently held beliefs. it does not demand anything from the player except to dodge at the right moment. this is a fundamental, core departure from what made me fall in love with dragon age in the first place. if you love dragon age because you want "fantasy escapism" and fun characters to smooch, then i am happy for you. but i would remind you that can find fantasy escapism all over the steam library - farming sims, cozy games, a witch looking for her cat in the alps, etc. what you cannot find are games that are willing and brave enough to challenge and provoke the player into a better, more thorough understanding of themselves in relation to our world and it's many, complex and daunting political and moral issues. to have lost such a thing, when media like this has become so few and far between, and during a time when we need it more than ever, is a devastating loss.

[justchillgurl]

Chapter 2: Smoking Mirrors.

Summary: Geum Seong-je isn’t one to care about school politics, but something about her—the girl with the chessboard smile and debt-tracked hands—gets under his skin. From hallway glimpses to quiet observation, he begins to unthread her method. Not to expose her. Just to see if she ever slips.

He doesn’t think she will. That’s what makes it interesting.

Warnings: none (not yet at least.) just seongje smoking.

Author's note: I'm not really confident about those chapters, feel free to give your feedback. English is not my first language, please don't hesitate to point out any mistakes. Thank you🫶🏼

Check this out!@

The lighter clicked once. Twice. Flame hissed, flickered, and died against the afternoon wind.

Seong-je exhaled through his teeth, dug the lighter deeper into his palm, and tried again. On the third attempt, it caught. The tip of the cigarette burned soft orange as he leaned back against the cracked brick wall outside the east stairwell, smoke curling lazily around his face.

He wasn’t supposed to be out here. Not technically.

But that was the whole point.

Classes were still in session. The school felt hollow in this part of the building—too far from the teachers’ offices, too quiet for anyone to bother checking. A graveyard for rusted lockers and long-forgotten announcements. Seong-je liked it here. It was predictable in its neglect.

His phone buzzed.

Seong-Mok: u gonna show up today or what?

He locked the screen without answering.

Seong-je didn’t skip class because he had better things to do. He skipped because nothing in that building made him feel awake. He’d already figured out which teachers didn’t bother calling names, which students kept their heads down, and which staff gave up trying to correct him.

He existed at the edge of Kanghak High’s awareness. Not low enough to worry about. Not loud enough to deal with.

Except now there was her.

He’d been watching her longer than he liked to admit.

It started in the convenience store. The way she measured every action, every word, like she was scoring a game only she understood. She didn’t seek attention, but it followed her anyway—hovering around her sharp shoulders and immovable stare.

He didn’t care about rumors, but even he’d heard things.

She was the one with the notes. The blog. The connections. She never raised her voice. Never smiled for no reason. And never helped without a trade.

A few days after their non-meeting, he saw her again.

She was sitting in the back corner of the library, laptop open, typing fast and without pause. Her phone buzzed three times—she ignored it. Her bag sat on the floor, half unzipped, with a folder of printed sheets sticking out like pressed wings.

He didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt.

He just watched.

The next day, she was walking across the courtyard, head tilted as someone tried desperately to gain her approval. Seong-je could tell. The body language was all there—hands fidgeting, voice too eager, laugh a little too loud. She listened with that same neutral expression, nodding only once before slipping a folded note into the person’s hand.

Transaction complete.

He lit another cigarette.

He didn’t want to interact. Not yet. That wasn’t how you watched people like her. You didn’t start by talking. You started by observing—finding the cracks. The inconsistencies. The rules she followed and when she bent them.

He already knew some of them.

She refused requests that weren’t worth her time. She wore earbuds in crowded spaces—not because she liked music, but because it gave her an excuse not to engage.

She smiled differently depending on who was talking.

To teachers: soft, respectful.

To classmates: polite, measured.

To those beneath her ranking system: almost invisible.

There was a system. He was sure of it.

And it intrigued the hell out of him.

One afternoon, he caught a sliver of her voice near the back staircase. Someone was begging—literally—for help on a scholarship essay. She didn’t yell. She didn’t even sound annoyed.

“Do you really think my notes are free?” she said calmly.

“No, no—I’ll pay. I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“I don’t want desperation. I want results. I want return.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“Make me a deal that makes sense. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

She walked off. Her steps echoed sharp and fast.

She didn’t glance at Seong-je as she passed.

But he noticed her thumb flick across her phone screen the moment she turned the corner. Probably logging the encounter. Updating a name. Moving pieces.

He tossed the cigarette butt into a gutter and kicked the edge of a bench.

The weird thing was, he didn’t want anything from her. Not really. He wasn’t looking for help, or notes, or connections. He wasn’t even looking for a fight.

He just wanted to know if she ever messed up.

If the game she was playing was as perfect as she made it look.

Because people like her didn’t run without cracks. No matter how polished. No matter how precise.

And Geum Seong-je had time. He had silence. And he had an unsettling talent for noticing what others ignored.

He could wait.

This is gonna be fucking fun.

So I decided to drop the chapter tonight, felt like it.

Hope you enjoy reading it🫂.

[letsbangts]

thank you || jjk

⤷ summary: when you express your appreciation for the man you married in an essay

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.4k

⟶ genre: fluff, married couple au, established relationship au

⟶ content: husband!jk, fratboy!jk briefly mentioned, sweetheart kook that could cause cavities

⟶ warnings: none just pure fluff

↬ a/n: so this is inspired by you may want to marry my husband. hope you enjoy! :) as always hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

I have been married to the most extraordinary man for four years. I am planning on many more (a plan that has been in effect since our first date seven years ago and will continue to be). And for that, I feel I should express my gratitude.

Thank you. 

Honestly, I do not know what I am thankful for, for everything, I guess? For him always being there, for him staying by my side. For loving and treating me exactly how I have always wanted a man to. 

Now, you may wonder who this gentleman is, and I am so happy to tell you, Jeon Jungkook.

He was an easy man to fall in love with (I did it in one day).

Let us take a trip down memory lane, shall we?

Seven years ago, a young lady struggling with dealing with college and her part-time job, gets dragged out by her best friend (I guess I should be thanking her too), attends a year-end party at a frat house one late evening. About an hour later, she bumps into a boy who spills his drink on himself, though all he can do is say to her with the brightest smile: “You okay there, Clumsy?”

And when she looks up at his face, she realizes that this is no douche frat boy with beer on his shirt, but an unbelievably attractive high-spirited young man. She shyly replies: “Yeah, I’m okay”.

That is when what was supposed to be quick party banter with a stranger turned into a night of great conversation and a polite walk home. That then turned into sweet exchanges of subtle flirtatious texts and small phone calls that had this young lady thinking: Uh-oh, there is something extremely lovable about this person.

As the couple enjoyed many hangouts during the beginning of summer (by the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to marry him), amidst the ever-growing flirting, they finally acknowledged their immense attraction. Then the hangouts turn into dates when that lovely young man finally asks her out. That is when they would have officially kicked off their step from subtle flirting to blatant, very obvious flirting—the beginning of a couple that would only continue their journey together.

So that was the start of us.

I am a bit biased, but I will create a list based on my experience of coexisting with Jungkook for about 2,556 days on the reasons I am thankful for him and thus love him. The following list of attributes is in no particular order because everything about him is so important to me.

Starting with the basics: His blindingly contagious smile, his gorgeous body filled with pure joy and positivity(and muscle), his adorable fluffy hair that falls over his forehead to match his striking brown eyes, and his effortlessly breathtaking passionate singing, of course.

Jungkook always knows how I am feeling and how to match his mood to whatever one I am in. He can read my face with just a simple glance. I have always appreciated how he adjusts his mood to fit my own. If I am in the dumps and his spirits are up, he brings them down to comfort me; even if he is down in the dumps, he lifts his spirits to keep a smile on my face. And for that:

Thank you.

If I could list just one of the things that made me fall in love with Jungkook from day one and still makes my heart flutter to this day, it would be his little acts that are natural for him, and show how much of a gentleman he is. He always opens doors for me, making sure I walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket to wear, or carrying me into bed when I fall asleep on the couch. He may not know how much I appreciate the little things, but those little things always remind me I sincerely have the best man out there. 

Silently suffering with the things I put him through that he may not want to do. Sitting through the cliché chick flicks, trailing behind me in the store as I look at three different tops that he says all look great on me but always end up picking the one he can tell I want more, or even giving up his personal space and all feeling in his right arm because he knows I sleep much better entangled with him.

That brings me to something Jungkook may not know that I know about him. He holds in a lot more than he leads on. The song he tells me he is struggling to perfect, but tells me it is only a little bit of writer’s block. Yet I can see in his eyes that it stresses him much more than he says. Yet he is always quick to change topics with a:

“How could you have gotten prettier while I was gone?”

Or

“So tell me about your day. Did anything interesting happen today?”

If I did not know him so well, I could have easily missed these things, but I have come to learn about the kind of person he is. He is the type of person who always puts others before himself. He leads himself to take on the role of making sure others around him are okay. He already knows he does not have to hide his worries from me, but Jungkook still always tries to keep the minor worries to himself because he believes they are things I will excessively stress over on his behalf. (and he is right, I would, what can I say, I love the guy)

We have come to know each other so well over the years, huh?

When looking for a dreamy, last-minute adventure, he is my man. He always comes with me on random, just-because trips, be it a road trip to the countryside for a break from the city or a train ride to the sea to walk by the shore.

Thank you.

If it is still unclear, here is the kind of man Jeon Jungkook is: He surprised me on my first day at my new job with flowers because he knew how nervous I was. He is a man who is always up early and goes out to surprise me every Sunday morning by putting a different kind of flower on my nightstand with a love note. A man who comes out of the minimart or gas station and says: “Hold out your hand.” And, voilà, a plastic ring he got from a gumball machine (had that been his proposal, my answer would have been yes).

I am sure you understand what I am trying to say by now, and he already knows how crazy I am about him. Wait! Did I mention that he is incredibly handsome? I will never get tired of looking at his handsome face.

If I am making him sound like a prince and our relationship sounds like a fairy tale, that is not too far off. I consider his proposal one for the books:

“Ever since you stumbled into my life, quite literally. I have never been able to picture being without you. Will you marry me, Clumsy?”

Jungkook, I was serious about what I told you in our vows:

“I always want more time with you, Jungkook. I want more time with the guy who takes me to get ice cream in the winter. I want more time sipping beer in bed with my drinking buddy. Although I desire our time together to be endless, we cannot live forever. But as long as I am alive, as long as I am a person on this planet, I will continue to follow you wherever the road takes us. So let us walk it together, alright?”

Your dependability and loyalty are the qualities that show you are the most extraordinary husband, the most extraordinary man, and will be the most remarkable father one day. I know you will lead our future family into a lifetime of happiness because that is where you have been leading mine for seven years. I know you will continue to do so.

I will wrap this up because I can go on and on about how you are the most genuine, non-self-oriented gift I could have received. So, thank you for being you. I hope for the day that I get to tell our children about the kind of man their father is, the man Jeon Jungkook is, and about the love story I am honoured to be a part of.

(P.S. That day I mentioned will be coming in approximately nine months!)

With all my love, Clumsy xo

[deatheaterv]

WELL DONE

pairing : prof!severus snape x prof!fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : as hogwarts’ newest professor, you’re facing lots of challenges, including snape’s constant sarcasm and interruptions. but behind his sharp remarks lies, a softer side you never expected to find.

it had only been a week since you’d joined hogwarts as the new professor of charms, and already you were beginning to wonder if you’d made the right decision. it wasn’t the students; they were surprisingly manageable, even the weasley twins. nor was it the workload, which, while demanding, was something you could handle.

no, the real problem was snape.

from the moment you arrived, professor severus snape had made it his personal mission to make your life as irritating as possible. whether it was his pointed remarks in staff meetings or the way he always seemed to find a reason to hover near your desk in the staffroom, he was relentless.

“professor,” snape’s deep, clipped voice broke through your thoughts as you sat at the staffroom table, grading essays.

you didn’t bother looking up. “what's now, snape?”

“you’ve spelled levitation incorrectly on your board during every third-year lesson this week,” he said, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “i suppose precision isn’t a priority in charms anymore.”

you glanced up, narrowing your eyes at him. “i don’t recall asking for your feedback,” you said.

he tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “consider it a professional courtesy,” he said, the smirk playing at his lips enough to make your fingers twitch.

you sighed, setting down your quill. “do you have anything better to do, or is pestering me just your new hobby?”

snape leaned against the chair opposite you, his arms crossed. “it's not pestering, professor. i’m merely ensuring that the students receive… adequate instruction.”

“how kind of you,” you replied dryly, your gaze locking with his. “and here i thought you were just bored.”

his lips quirked into a small, humorless smile. “boredom has nothing to do with it,” he said, his voice softer now but no less irritating. “though i must admit, your reactions are… amusing.”

you rolled your eyes and returned to your grading, determined not to give him the satisfaction of another retort.

but, of course, snape wasn’t finished. “how are you finding hogwarts, professor?” he asked after a moment, his tone feigning polite curiosity.

“aside from certain professors?” you said, not looking up. “quite enjoyable.”

“mm,” snape murmured, his voice laced with dry amusement. “i’ll try not to take that personally.”

you finally glanced up, meeting his gaze. “oh, please do.”

to your surprise, his smirk softened slightly, and for a brief moment, he looked almost... fond. but the moment passed quickly, and his usual aloof expression returned.

“very well,” he said, pushing off from the chair. “i’ll leave you to your marking. do try not to misspell anything else.”

you huffed as he swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

later that evening, as you made your way to your quarters, you found yourself thinking about snape. sure, he was annoying, but there was something oddly… engaging about him. the way he always seemed to seek you out, the way his sarcasm was never truly cruel, and the way his dark eyes softened, just slightly, when he looked at you.

you shook your head, dismissing the thought. there was no way snape was anything more than an annoyance. and yet, as you opened the door to your quarters, you found a small, neatly folded piece of parchment sitting on your desk.

unfolding it, you saw a single line, written in an elegant, precise hand:

you’ve improved. well done.

you stared at the note, your heart skipping for reasons you didn’t quite understand. and for the first time since you’d arrived at hogwarts, you found yourself looking forward to seeing snape again.