#And of course they have to frame it like that because if they didn't the clear domestic violence would be put into question

[hachiane]

ranking the LADS boys on who takes the best Instagram photos

a/n — just my headcanons!! may be OOC, majorly she/her reader pronouns

count : 950 words

#1 Rafayel Qi

— takes one look at your inspo photos and scoffs, “puh-leaase, i can do better than that.”. under his calm exterior, his painter's eye is roaring to life, the gears in his brain immediately turning when your phone is passed into his hands.

Rafayel matches your freak instantly and pretends he is like every photograph boyfriend every it-girl online seems to have; he's guiding you to pose, where to place your hands, tilt your face so he captures all your best angles, even the ones you didn't think you had. your personal hypeman as he snaps away, "yesss, cutie! you look so good!' "kill me with those sexy eyes of yours!" "makeup on point! show off your pretty lashes!"

it doesn't end there. Rafayel is also looking over your shoulder helping you choose the best shots, giving his small comments and suggestions as you edit them in your phone, things like "up the contrast, the shadows are dark in this one" or "why are you cropping like that? this makes you look taller".

after your impromptu photoshoot, he sings praises about you being the most beautiful muse, the cutest bodyguard. and of course, you have to take some couple selfies with him too as reward for his hard work.

Rafayel is your first like, first comment when you post, bombarding your notifications with comments. “that’s my bodyguard right there 😍” “you’re sooooooo hot 🔥🔥” “slay queen 💅🏼✨”

he'll do everything again, no doubt about it.

#2 Xavier Shen

— when you asked him the first time, he was hesitant. he says he read a book about it but never put it to practice, warning you that you might be disappointed. you shove your phone into his hands and that you're fine with whatever he gets in the end. (unintentionally that awakens his inner prince, determined to ensure his princess look her best in every frame)

the entire time, Xavier says nothing. you hear him snap away and hum to himself, but he's not saying anything to you; doesn't tell you how to pose, where to place your hands or if you should be looking at him. so most of the time, you’re by yourself testing out the poses you saw online and placing your blind, full-hearted trust that he gets the picture you imagined. 

the thing is, while poses look good on you, Xavier behind the camera much prefers your candid moments, because these says much more about you than poses other people have thought of. you in your natural state is the most beautiful to him, and he says so, “i only take pictures of pretty things and you like this is the most pretty to me”.

later, being the old soul he is, he purchases a polaroid printer to get physical copies of your photos and stashes them away in a journal or box, for these memories of you deserve to last lifetimes.

#3 Sylus Qin

— his pictures of you are decent enough. when you asked him the first time, he says he’ll get you a personal photographer if you so desire good photos, but your cutesy pleading and debating your point about the sentimental value of photos taken by him makes him give in. he follows your inspo photos to the T, but because of his height, you notice the angles are slightly higher than what they should be. like Xavier, he doesn't tell you how to pose; he just taps away on the shutter button as he moves around you here and there, occasionally hunching down for a low angle shot, with his other hand in his pocket, nonchalant as Sylus usually is.

accidentally left the live photo feature on for most of your photos, and while perturbed at first, those become his favourites; he gets to see a glimpse of your genuine smile at his ministrations before your expressions snap into a smouldering, radiant look that he would fall to his knees for time and time again. he sends the photos to himself afterwards without asking, shrugging when you question him about it when he was being so indifferent at first, “sentimental value, kitten”.

#4 Zayne Li

— unfortunately, Zayne takes photos like an aged father with two daughters; straight on, no angles, no direction, not much effort given the first few times. but after seeing your slightly disappointed look as you review the photos, even when you reassure him you're okay with them, he knows he’d done you wrong.

the next day, Zayne promptly asks his female colleagues and acquaintances with a photography hobby at the hospital for some tips and crash courses. of course they oblige him (because who could say no to the Dr Zayne when he asks for a favour?) with simple go-tos and the tricks. and Zayne being Zayne, he notes them all down in his personal notebook, studies it in his downtime, brings it home to read and practice on some "subjects" lying around the house: your collectible figures, the fresh bouquet for the living room, and so forth.

the next time the opportunity comes up, he breaks it to you he's been studying for this exact moment and asks if you would give him another attempt. although the photos end up not what you expected when he said he's been "learning", it's miles better than the first few times. Zayne would look at you expectantly for your reaction, and he heaves a sigh of assured relief when you compliment his improvement. when you post the recent photo he took of you, he cracks the widest smile he's had all week, liking and saving the photo to make it his phone background (though you've probably already sent it to him).

[shitpostingsapphic]

First thing, if you haven't watched Arcane, don't have an opinion on it and broadcast it to the internet. That should be common sense.

Second, if you're only able to internalize the Piltover and Zaun storyline from s1, just say that. Don't say it was the main plotline, because it wasn't. There were several that ran together during the course of the first season. So if you're shocked that the show called Arcane was focused on the magical side of things in the 2nd season, I'm afraid that's a personal problem.

The Piltover and Zaun plotline is indeed important. Just perhaps not in the way you made up in your mind. So the ways it was addressed (and it indeed was addressed) didn't satisfy what you'd been hoping for. Perhaps the story being told wasn't the one you think you were being told. Rewatches help. Pick up details you didn't process before. There's no shame in that.

And keep in mind that with a medium like animation, YES, the little details tell as much of the story as the dialogue. Every frame is so much more intentional than live film can ever be. So if you resent the idea that you might have to rewatch something to pick up on miniscule details you missed upon first watch, perhaps animation isn't the medium for you. Especially with a show so detailed and painstaking and with as high a budget as Arcane. More has gone into this than most any other animation project.

Just rewatch the damn thing. And stop making a fool of yourself on the internet.

[ikkyfics]

Adorable Kitchen Disaster

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: "Dave..." your voice nearly faltered. He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying your reaction, and placed a few more soft kisses there, each one slower and more provocative than the last. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice low and clearly satisfied. "Am I distracting the chef?"

Warnings: just fluffy - Dave being a lovable disaster in the kitchen

Masterlist

The Christmas spirit was already in the air when you heard the doorbell ring. An instant smile appeared on your face as you left the cookie dough on the counter and went to the door. When you opened it, there he was: Dave Lizewski, wearing a comfy blue hoodie under a dark green coat. The beanie hid part of his messy dark hair, and the round glasses framed his big, warm blue eyes that always made you sigh.

"Hey," he said, smiling that shy, adorable way of his. He was holding a plastic bag filled with candies and treats. "I'm ready for the mission, chef."

You didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, you pulled him by his coat, pressing your lips firmly to his. Dave seemed surprised for a second but soon returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and deepening the kiss. He still tasted like chocolate—because, of course, he always brought something sweet along the way—and the way he smiled against your lips showed how much he loved it.

"Wow." He laughed quietly when you finally pulled away, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. "I think I'm going to come help in the kitchen more often."

"My parents aren't here," you told him, slightly out of breath, ignoring his playful comment. "They went to visit some friends. So, we have the whole house to ourselves."

"That explains why you're so happy to see me," Dave teased, but the way he bit his lip, shy and enchanted, only made him more irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, holding his hand and pulling him inside. "Come on, hurry up. The cookies aren't going to bake themselves."

The kitchen was a well-organized mess, with cookie cutters scattered on the counter and a bowl of dough ready. Dave observed everything with one eyebrow raised, leaving the "supplies" bag on the table.

"Wow, you're seriously letting me touch the food?"

"I'm trying to give you a chance," you laughed, positioning yourself next to him and extending the bowl. "Now take the dough and start rolling it out with the pin. Just make firm movements, forward and back."

Dave grabbed the rolling pin with both hands and shot you an amused look. "Seems easy. Like a video game. I'm great at this."

But within minutes, you had already spotted the impending disaster. He was pressing the rolling pin too hard, the dough was getting all crooked, and the effort was only making him more frustrated.

"My God, Dave, you're going to destroy everything," you said, laughing.

"I'm not destroying! Just... customizing," he replied, completely convinced, as he rolled the dough any which way.

With an amused sigh, you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his arms, your back pressed against his chest. Dave froze, surprised by the proximity, but let his hands relax when you held his wrists.

"Like this," your voice came out soft, almost a whisper, as you guided his movements firmly. "Calm. No force. Just... glide."

Dave let out a low chuckle. "Do you realize this looks like a movie scene? Like, 'Ghost' but the cooking version?"

"Shut up, Lizewski," you warned, but a smile escaped.

The truth was, the proximity wasn't helping your focus. You could feel his body heat through the hoodie, the rhythmic sound of his breath close to your ear, and the soft scent that always seemed to surround him. What had started as a funny moment quickly turned into something more intense.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Dave murmured, his voice deeper and lower, too close to your neck.

You didn't have time to respond because, in the next second, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the side of your neck. The sensation was so unexpected that you shivered, letting out a sigh.

"Dave..." your voice nearly faltered.

He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying your reaction, and placed a few more soft kisses there, each one slower and more provocative than the last.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice low and clearly satisfied. "Am I distracting the chef?"

"You're distracting me," you replied, though not with much firmness, because the truth was, you were loving it.

"I don’t see you complaining for real," Dave teased, giving one last kiss before pulling away just enough to study your face. His cheeks were red too, but the crooked, loving smile remained. "Why do you have to be so pretty, huh? Can't even be a disaster in peace."

"Who says I want you to stop being a disaster?" you retorted, your voice full of amusement, but the look in your eyes was sweet enough to be hard to hide.

He smiled even more and leaned in to kiss you again, his lips brushing against yours so gently it felt like he was afraid to break you. You felt his fingers slide along the curve of your waist, almost as if he wanted to memorize every inch, as the kiss slowly deepened, stealing any remaining breath.

"I swear you're going to be my undoing," Dave murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Well..." you began, with a shy, daring smile. "At least we’ll get lost together."

His laughter was genuine, and he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. It was the kind of look that made time seem to slow down — his blue eyes filled with affection, admiration, and something deeper, an intensity so pure that you didn’t know how he could keep it all contained in just that gaze.

"What luck I have," he replied softly, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he acted on impulse. With a somewhat awkward movement, Dave grabbed your waist and lifted you up, making you let out a surprised squeal instantly.

"Dave! What are you...?"

But you didn’t even finish the sentence. The sudden movement made your leg bump into the open bowl of flour, creating a white cloud in the air that looked like something out of a cartoon. You burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands as he gently set you down on the counter.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he laughed, not even trying to hide how much he was enjoying the chaos he had just caused. His hands were now covered in flour, as were parts of his hair and the blue sweatshirt he was wearing.

"You’re a walking disaster, Lizewski." You laughed through your grumbling, trying to brush some flour off your face, but you were quickly interrupted when he leaned in again, his smile still dancing on his lips.

"I didn’t hear any complaints earlier." He said, and before you could respond, he sealed his lips to yours once more.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more engaging, as if he were trying to capture every bit of that moment. His hands slid back down your waist, a firm yet gentle touch, as if he were still surprised to be allowed this close to you.

You pulled him even closer, feeling the heat of his body against yours and realizing, once again, how he seemed stronger than you gave him credit for. It was a subtle strength, but it was present — a constant and charming surprise from someone who could still be so sweet and caring.

"Since when have you been working out like this, huh?" you asked, your voice slightly muffled between the kisses he was now spreading across your jawline and the corner of your neck.

"Since I started carrying my girlfriend around in my spare time," he replied with a proud smile, his voice lower and full of affection.

"How cocky." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the big smile on your face.

Dave looked at you again, his blue eyes tracing every detail of your face, and you felt your heart squeeze in a good way. He was still too close, your bodies almost touching, and the redness on his cheeks only made him more endearing.

"I’m serious." He spoke softly, brushing a lock of flour out of your hair with his fingertips. "I never thought I’d have someone like this... you know, someone like you."

Your heart melted instantly. You leaned in, pulling him into another kiss, but the moment was brutally interrupted by a strange smell and a low sound coming from the oven.

Both of you froze, eyes wide in unison, until you let out an "Oh no!" and gently pushed Dave off the counter.

"The cookies!" you exclaimed, rushing to the oven.

Dave stood still in the middle of the kitchen, still covered in flour, watching as you, somewhat clumsily, opened the oven and tried to save the cookies — already too dark to be considered edible.

"Okay, okay, I admit it," he began, trying to suppress his laughter. "Maybe the movie scene was too good to be true."

You shot him a sharp look, but you couldn’t hold back your own laugh either. The kitchen was a mess — flour on the floor, sugar on the counter, both you and Dave covered in white powder. But none of that mattered.

You sighed dramatically, holding the baking sheet as if it were a lost cause.

"I think we’ve lost this batch."

"It’s just proof of how irresistible I am." Dave shrugged, walking over to you and holding out his arms. "But hey, I promise the next one will turn out right."

"You really are a lost cause, Lizewski."

"And you still like me this way." He grinned widely, pulling you back close, as if there was no mess around.

And, to be honest, at that moment, there really wasn’t.

[gojodickbig]

sub!choso x dom!female reader.

(i just know that choso loves having his ass fucked!!)

anywoooo, get the strappppp😝😝

conts: nsfw!! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

wc: 2,3k.

Choso sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his fingers, his dark hair framing his flushed face as he avoided your gaze. His cheeks were burning red, his entire body tense with nerves, though the way he shifted slightly in his seat told you he was more than just nervous—he was eager. His hands gripped the sheets tightly, trying to calm the flood of anticipation coursing through him.

"You don't have to be so tense, baby," you said softly, your voice soothing but laced with playful amusement as you stepped closer. The strap slung around your hips made his eyes dart toward it, widening slightly before he quickly looked away. You tilted his chin up with your fingers, forcing him to meet your gaze.

"I—I'm not tense," he muttered, though the way his knuckles tightened in the sheets said otherwise.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Choso," you murmured, your lips brushing against his with teasing softness, "you trust me, don't you?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah. I do. just... I've never done anything like this before."

You kissed him fully this time, your lips soft but insistent, coaxing him to relax as his hands slid up to your waist, gripping you like you were his anchor. When you pulled back, his lips were slightly parted, his breath coming quicker.

"It's just me and you," you reassured him, your tone softer now. "You're going to be fine, baby. If it's too much, all you have to do is tell me, and I'll immediately stop, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered, his voice shaky but resoluted

"Good boy." You kissed him again, this time a little deeper, your fingers tangling in his hair before gently guiding him to all fours.

He obeyed, his shoulders trembling slightly as he shifted into position. You ran your hands down his back, your lips brushing over the nape of his neck. His breath hitched when he heard the snap of the lube bottle, and you caught the way his toes curled against the sheets.

"Relax for me," you murmured, rubbing small circles over his hips. "You're gonna feel so good. I'll make sure of it."

Choso nodded quickly, his forehead pressing into the pillow as you slicked up your fingers and gently spread him open. The first cool touch of lube against him made him jolt, and when your finger pressed into his asshole, he gasped loudly. his body going rigid.

"Shhh," you cooed, pressing a kiss to his spine. "You're doing so well, baby. Let me take care of you."

"It feels... weird," he admitted, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"That's normal," you said, slowly working your finger deeper. "It's just because you're not used to it yet. I'll go slow, promise."

You took your time, stretching him with patient, deliberate movements, until he started to relax into the pressure. By the time you added a second finger, his hips twitched, and his cock hardened, a soft moan escaping his lips. "Fuck," he whimpered, his voice trembling. "It's... a lot, but it's n-not bad.”

"You like it," you teased, curling your fingers slightly and grinning when his moan turned sharper, his hips rolling back instinctively. "See? You're already opening up so nicely for me."

Choso's breath stuttered, his hands fisting the sheets even harder now. "I—I didn't think it'd feel like this," he admitted, his voice breaking into a whimper.

"You've barely felt anything yet," you said, withdrawing your fingers and grabbing the toy. "Are you ready, baby? You want me to fill you up?"

"Yes," he gasped, desperation creeping into his tone. “Please…”

You pressed the tip of the strap to his entrance, teasing him by pressing it against his clenching hole, making circles against it. When you put it in, he whimpered. You started with shallow thrusts, letting him adjust to the stretch. His body trembled as you eased in slowly, inch by inch.

"Fuck," he choked out, his head dropping forward onto the pillow.

"Breathe, baby," you cooed, your hands gripping his hips. "You're taking me so well. Just relax and let me in."

When you finally bottomed out, you paused, letting him adjust as you leaned over to kiss his back. "How does it feel?"

He turned his head slightly, his voice muffled but needy. "It's so much... you're so deep," he whimpered. "But it's so good. I didn't think it'd feel this... full. You're—fuck. Stretching me so good."

"That's because you were made for this, Cho," you purred, pulling back before sinking in again, your hips rolling with slow, deliberate thrusts. "Made to take it. Look at you, baby, moaning like a whore for this cock."

His moan was loud and shameless, his back arching as he pushed back against you. "F—fuck," he gasped, his voice breaking into a whine. "It's... it's so good. You're— ah!—ugh! Stretching me so good. I feel you everywhere—Fuck!”

You smirked, gripping his hips tighter as you picked up your pace, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. "That's right," you murmured, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "You love it, don't you? Getting fucked like this, stretched out by this cock. Such a good boy for me, you're so perfect, baby."

"Yes," he cried out, his voice cracking with pleasure. "I love it—fuck!—I love it so much. I love you so much."

"I love the way your body reacts, Cho. You're so sensitive." His moans grew louder as you shifted your angle, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. His body trembled beneath you, his thighs shaking as he clawed at the sheets.

"Please—please don't stop. I—I don't care how sensitive I am, just keep—ah!—keep going, please." Choso begged, his voice breaking into a desperate whimper. He pushed himself back against you, seeking more. Every nerve overstimulated, his thighs shook as he buried his face in the pillow, muffling the moans spilling uncontrollably from his lips.

You laughed softly, your nails grazing his hips as you picked up your pace. "So greedy, baby. You want me to ruin you?”

"Yes," he whimpered, the word spilling from his lips before he could think. "I want you to fuck me as hard as you want. I'll take it—I'll take anything from you."

"You're such a good boy," you praised, reaching around to wrap your hand around his aching cock. He let out a scream, his hips bucking into your hand as you started stroking him faster. "So hard for me, baby. You're gonna come for me, aren't you? You've been holding back this whole time."

"I—I can't, he whimpered, his voice desperate and high-pitched. "I'm gonna... ah!, I—I can't hold it." He shook his head, his breath coming in ragged pants. "I'm sorry—hgh—fuck!, it feels too good! I can't help it! I need to cum, please!"

"You don't need to hold it, baby," you purred, stroking him in time with your thrusts. "Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you fall apart on this cock."

With a broken cry, Choso's body tensed, his cock twitching in your hand as he came hard, spilling over your fingers and the sheets below. His entire frame trembled as he moaned loudly, his head dropping forward onto the pillow.

"Yes, baby, let it all out." you murmured, slowing your movements as he rode out his orgasm. His body went limp beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his shoulder, carefully pulling out and tossing the strap aside before laying down beside him. Choso turned his head, his eyes dazed but full of warmth as he gazed at you. "You did so well, Cho."

"T-Thank you... it... felt really nice.." he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You smirked, brushing the hair from his sweat-dampened face. "Mmh, I told you you'd like it, baby," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

Once he pulls away from the kiss, he looks at you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-closed.

…

"Can you sit on my face now, pretty please?" he asks, his voice low. "I miss eating your pussy."

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[gamingavickreyauction]

Without a proper understanding of which elements of the causal path are active, and which elements of the causal path are passive, the problem cannot be properly resolved

I reject this because the active/passive distinction is not an empirical one.

and blame and punishment will fall on innocent or only weakly guilty people, wastefully causing more suffering.

I reject this because I reject retributive justice—if you aren't punishing people for the sake of punishing them, then you aren't going to change your mind about where fault lies and realize you've been torturing someone innocent for years. More pragmatic things, like whether someone is likely to do the same thing again, and whether not punishing someone means there's an incentive for others to do the same, aren't going to change like that, unless you're just bad at figuring out what's practically going on.

In your example you regard the landlords as passive, and the politicians as active, but you provide no hard-and-fast definition that this arises from. It seems like you are using these as synonyms for 'at the start of the causal chain' and 'not at the start of the causal chain.' You don't see the landlords raising rents as a step in the causal chain that could have been broken, or that anyone had a responsibility to break—you see the landlords as passive, because they are just doing what is 'natural' in a more demand-dominant market environment. You see the politicians passing the legislation as the start of the causal chain, and you see them as culpable, so you see that as active.

I certainly agree that you need to get to the root of the problem to know how to address it, and many political problems are caused by people not doing that. I agree that in your example, it would be an unhelpful distraction to blame the landlords. I disagree that this is an objective judgment. And if this is what you mean by the active/passive distinction, I think that is unhelpful framing, as it clouds your thinking by biasing you towards accounts where agency is concentrated, not distributed.

Because there were steps in the causal chain before the politicians: a politician voted for it because that's where their party was at, and they didn't want to rock the boat—they were just going along with social forces, in the same way that landlords were just going along with market forces. And that culture, while self-sustaining to a degree, also comes from polling that says building prohibitions are popular with the residents of the city, and that's because for most of them it really does benefit them by increasing their house price. So the real problem is the arrangement of government where the only people politicians are accountable to is people who already live there, and there is no consideration of the interests of the people wanting to move into the city. I'm not saying that is the correct view, but it illustrates another place you could put blame, and illustrates that you can always go back a step in a causal chain. There is no start, and everyone sees themselves as passively, naturally responding to the situation they're placed in. Of course, they aren't actually wholly passive, but at every step people have limited agency, so agency ends up very distributed.

But moreover, causes rarely actually come in these neat chains—there are generally many conditions that lead to an effect. A building falls down killing 3 people, because it hadn't received necessary maintenance, because the previous owner had given inaccurate information about a previous renovation, but also because the renovation hadn't been as sturdy as it was meant to be, because the plans the builders received were for an earlier version of the plan, because the architects had gotten their documents mixed up, because that was been done by an intern and their secretary didn't do a good job of that part of the training.

Where does the blame lie here? It lies in lots of little pieces. Everyone was just trying to passively follow procedures. And this is still a simplified cartoon version of causality. This is why law is complicated. Maybe you have an opinion of who in this chain of events is actually responsible, and maybe other people who believe in the active/passive distinction do too, but I bet you wouldn't all agree, because it comes from a judgment that is ultimately subjective.

But maybe you do have a criterion to decide what is passive and what is active without leaving it to judgement. If so, please share it, so I can see how objective it really is.

"How can I be privileged? I struggle constantly and no one understands."

That's not how privilege works. Privilege does not mean other people struggle and you don't.

Privilege often means that society is designed to traumatize you and make you angry then direct your anger at the socially acceptable target.

Male privilege does not mean it's easy to be a man. Male privilege means it's traumatizing to be a man and you're expected to take out that trauma on women instead of fighting back against those causing it.

White privilege does not mean you have everything handed to you. White privilege means society is designed to make you suffer then blame your suffering on black people or immigrants instead of the capitalist class who are causing the suffering.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

Hiii! Can I get the 18th of the list with Billy Knight? NSFW. One where as they're at it, Billy disassociates for a second and it's because he's thinking about how he hasn't had an episode ever since he has been with her and he's thinking about having a baby. She noticed and when she asked him what was wrong, he was reluctant to say it but did it, and they both started trying. (Breeding kink at its finest)

Billy!! My love. Of course. im sorry this too so long.

Prompt 18: "looks like you're going on the naughty list"

YOU MAKE ME HAPPY

Pairings: Billy Knight! x fem! Summary: ^^^ Warnings: mentions of smut. (p in v) babies, breeding kink

--------------------

the squeak of bed frame underneath you echo in the room as Billy's small grunts and whimpers fill your ears.

one hand by your head to lift him up, although he's still practically laying on top of you, all his weight pressing on your frame underneath him as he rocks in and out of you.

he's usually a gentle lover. but sometimes he could get worked up in the moment of pleasure, him feeling so good that he would pick up the pace, not that you complained.

but with his neck stuffed in your neck as he thrusted, your soft moans in his ear makes him feel so comfortable against you, which gets him thinking

with your eyes closed, you whined at the slowing of his movemets, coming to a stop

you frowned and opened your eyes, finding him deep in thought above you as he leaned up, making you confused

"a-are you ok? I didn't feel you cum, baby, are you alright?" you asked him softly, leaning up on your elbows

he looked at you, a slight frown on his face as he blushed.

"I can go top if you can't do anymore"

he shook his head "no- It's fine"

"What's on your mind then, honey?" you reached out a hand, grazing your fingers against his knee, tracing delicate shapes to his skin as you waited for his response

"Well I-" he stops for a second, not knowing if he should tell you, but the way you look laying down, naked, makes him want to picture you with a perfect little baby bump attached to your belly, oh how you'd look so beautiful carrying his child, it's a major step, he knows, but all he wants i a little baby to hold that looked like the perfect mix of him and you.

a cute little button nose with big eyes. you'd be an amzing mother, and he's sure he'd make a fine dad.

and he guesses it's just the holidays that's gotten him in this family feeling, seeing all these matching pj sets for a family,

he never got to have that, not with his family, but he's noticed that he's been doing it with you, so why not make the full set and bring a baby to the mix, right?

you've already done so much for him, right in this moment he's realised that when he met you, he hasn't had a single episode, if you don't count the one where he met you-

he was crying, curled in a ball, harsly rubbing and scratching at his face, leaning against a wall of a store.

in any other circumstances, you would have thought it was just someone on drugs and stayed clear of them, but the blood shining from the street light made you concerned. so you approached him. after some yelling on his end, you ended up helping him. and he's never had another one since.

he's 2 years free of all that terror after getting some help from you, and how how he loves you for it.

"I want to... I think I want a- baby" he stammered, scared of your reaction

"a baby?" you tilted your head, eyes widened at his words in surprise

"I just- I love you. so much, and you make me happy. you're the only person I want to spend my life with so why not? just imaine a little us running around" he blushed, fidgeting. he'll never not be fidgety, but you don't mind

you cleared your throat "I mean- shouldn't we be married first?"

"We can get married" he nods his head vigorously

"Bil- honey.." you sigh, deep in thought

"why not? I know I want to marry you, so why not start our family. so what if we're a little early, a lot of people have kids before marraige" he shrugged

he looked so vulnerable in this moment, so cute and happy, his big eyes full of hope as he looks at you excitedly

a few strands of his hair fall to his face and you catch it, tucking it behind his ear as he shuffles forward, laying above you, propped up his knee and hand he's placed by your right side, going face to face with you

"I guess you're right...I wouldn't rather spend my life with anyone else. but- I mean, are you sure?" you asked him, trying to come up with a bad idea not to have a baby, but none come to mind.

"only if you want to" he mumbled, his thumb grazing your bare side, sending shivers over your body

"I don't see why we can't try" you smile up at him, seeing the joy light up in his eyes

"you make me so happy" he beams, leaving soft kisses over your cheeks.

"you make me happy too, honey" you stroke his cheek, planting a kiss to his soft lips "so happy"

"so you wanna try?" he said happily

you nod "lets try for a baby"

he leaves a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, sucking on you soft skin of your breasts, he leaned up and rolled off the condom, throwing it in the bin by your nightstand before positioning himself

"a-are you sure?" he made sure you wanted this after he positioned to your aching core.

"I'm sure, Billy" you nodded

he mumbled a quick 'okay' before pushing into you

his thrusts are slow, trying to pick up where he left off as he stares at your belly, picturing a baby bump so cute it almost makes him melt, but instead it gives him the confidence he needs, picking up his pace as he placing a hand to your inner thigh, giving it a good squeeze, knowing you want this too makes him feel so happy

your moans and whines encourage him just enough for him to start speaking

he's never been the best at dirty talk, he's always been too awkward, not knowing what to say. you've never told him that though, mostly because you find it cute, but because he's just too precious to upset.

and you know that he'll think of it as you think he's not good enough as pleasing you, when that certainly isn't true

so when he whimpers in your ear, the perfect sound of a gutterual grunt and a high-pitched moan, the soft words of "so beautiful, you'd look even prettier carrying my baby" you grew a little surpirsed.

it wasn't anything special, but nothing he's said before

you snaked your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his hips as you grinded yours with his thrusts

"is that what you want? f'me to fill you up so good you'll have my babies inside you? you want that?" he grunted.

you panted, nodding your head as your eyes closed shut, the feeling of him hitting all the right places sending a wave of pleasure through the course of your body.

you moaned his name with a stutter as you felt him go deeper, his thrusts growing harder and faster- probably more than he's ever gone without you having to ask

you roll your eyes back, liking the way he's finally found a little confidence in himself.

he reaches his hand out, rubbing over your thigh and up to your tummy, pressing a little weight on it "you want a baby in here, don't you? that's right, let me hear how bad you want it"

you hold the back of his head, gripping on his hair, not enough to caue pain because you couldn't bring yourself to do that.

you squeaked as he placed a trail of wet kisses along the length of your neck, licking and sucking harshly, leaving the prettiest of marks on you

"I- I want it.. please.. Billy oh. please!" you cried out, the squelching sounds of him almost poundin into you filled your ears as the bed creaking under your weight ringing i the room

"Thats right. beg for it. beg for my kids, Baby. just like that" he breathed into your neck, his hand going up to cup your breast, giving it a delicious squeeze before grunting in your ear

when you don't respond he tuts

"looks like you're going on the naughty list, Honey, i said beg for it"

"please! Billy. I-I'm sorry. I want your kids.. g- give me all- of- them!" you whined out, feeling the rugged and harsh pumps of his hard sock slamming into you, completely blinded by his pleasure and want to start a family

"that's it, keep begging for me to fill you up" he grunts

"Billy- I- I'm gonna- fill me up, please! I'm gonna-"

"cum for me, Honey.. I'm so close" he mumbled

his thrusts become sloppy and desperate as you feel the knot tighten in your stomach and you let a delicious orgasm wash over you

Billy can feel his own climax on the edge as you moan his name so nicely. Making his cock twitch in pleasure as he slows his movements, focusing on the feeling of your slick folds swallowing his dick whole.

"'M gonna fill you up, that what you want?" He asked

You whine, feeling your aching pussy become overstimulated as he keeps thrusting into you

"Gonna fill you up, honey. I'm so close. I'm gonna cum for you, honey.. you're so good f'me, gonna have to tell Santa to put you on the nice list"

You pant out a giggle and hear his groans and whines get closer together and more aspirated, signiling that he's close

All he does is need to picture you eith a pregnant belly, knowing it's his baby inside you to push him over the edge. Moaning your name as you feel his hot seed fill your inner walls white

You hum at the sensation, not having felt him raw inside you before.

He pants as he pulls out of you, flopping by your side as he catches your breath

"I didn't hurt you, did I? I was a but rough. I'm sorry" he swallowed thickly, showing his sensitive and compassionate side once again, the man you love showing himself

You rolled into your side and brushed a strand of hair out of his face

"It didnt hurt, honey, I liked it..." you smiled, watching him look at you softly, he turned to face you, snaking an arm around your waist

He snuggled into you. Mumbling sweet nothings

"I love you"

You yawn "I love you more, baby.."

-------------------------------------------

[pretty-weird-ideas]

Episode Seven and White Tears

The trial's allegory is not just a lynching, it is a lynching for a Black person entering a relationship with a respected White man, and proceeding to leave him. It's not a murder case, as seen through the show, there's actually very little emphasis on the murder in the episode in regards to Louis. The emphasis is on his "seduction", his "ungiving nature", and "refusing to give his body". It is a public humiliation and lynching for turning a respected white man down. The crime isn't hurting Lestat, it's hurting his feelings.

Lestat doesn't speak to the audience about the pain of his throat being slit. He speaks of loneliness, the audience chants and jeers about how cheating was justified if Louis isn't putting out. Santiago isn't talking about the murder, he's talking about how much of a sexual deviant Louis is the second he is introduced. The show is telling us what's important to the case, and what language hurt and stuck out to Louis the most. The deciding factor in the eyes of the audience, the story that Sam and Santiago are trying to tell, is that the crime is heinous because Louis turned down Lestat.

The audience isn't mad about the murder, they're mad about Lestat's emotions, they're mad about the betrayal, and they are mad that Louis and Claudia didn't put up with things. The case built against the two of them isn't based on violence, it's based on white tears. Louis isn't called a monster for slitting Lestat's throat, the audience member calls him a monster for turning down Lestat's advances.

The show is clear that the trial isn't really about the murder, it is about Louis not "giving enough" for Lestat. It's about Louis asking Lestat to turn Claudia and literally bargaining his happiness where he literally gets on his knees and says "I'll be happy for you, I will never leave you if you do this for me". It's never been about the murder, it's quite literally just shaming Louis for not "loving a good man who might be abusive".

At the end of the day, the trial as framed and written by Sam is building a case off of Lestat's tears, not actual physical harm.

Like my skin is crawling but also the show is so chilling with how it portrayed the "He's a good man so hold your tongue and endure! Lest you read as ungrateful".

Anyways someone take the laptop from me before this becomes my life.

[irenespring]

After my latest fic chapter I feel compelled to remind people who have never read the SGE books that Clarissa Dovey (whose ideology and behavior I did not alter) is supposed to be a good guy. She is the benevolent, motherly mentor figure. We are supposed to like her very much.

In related news: The School for Good and Evil is the single largest case of authorial "oh shit I forgot all my world building when it came time to do the story framing" I have ever seen in all of media.

[sadiebrin]

Sadie nodded in reply to his thanks, her own eyes flickering quickly to the window once more. This time, however, she briefly focused on the corner of the frame, where some dust had clustered. And then to the salt and pepper shakers, towered over by a classic red squeeze bottle of what she assumed was ketchup. A bell jingled as the cafe door opened, and the soldier instinctively found her attention drawn to the entering individuals. A woman in a long, fancy coat, and a man with red hair. She stiffened, left hand subtly drawn to the wooden base of her chair. He had a long beard.

He had a long beard. It wasn't him.

... dry fast.

What? Oh, right, Wade's hair. Cool in the summer, too. Respond. "So that's a perk." She agreed, distractedly. As she pet the kitten, however, the tension seemed to melt from her shoulders. Not in it's entirety, of course, but the little one did manage to soothe her. Their little cheeks were so fuzzy. The kittens ears flattened against their head as Sadie ran her fingers over the top to give them a gentle scritch. And then a little rub under the chin.

She withdrew her hand and just watched those sleepy little eyes. Her heart seemed to sing. What a darling. "Good point. Okay." She just had to trust he knew what he was doing, because she certainly didn't. Not with a kitten this little.

As for pet stores, "We could look around for one if you'd like?" Maybe he'd rather do so on his own, that was fine by her, but the offer stood, regardless. She wanted their new friend to be comfortable. Oh. Oh dear. The mental image of this tiny kitten in a tiny kitten raincoat sprung to mind and that was just too cute.

Unfortunately the mental image was interrupted by the thought of this little one potentially being an orphan, and that was heartbreaking. She hoped not. Maybe they'd been separated from their family through other means. She'd try to listen when they left the cafe, see if she could hear any other meows in the distance. There was a chance they'd had a human family too, she supposed. How would the kitten have been separated from them this young, though? Had they been abandoned? That was an awful thought, too, but people could be cruel...

Whatever the case, she wanted to protect this little one.

She watched as Wade whispered to the kitten, and they headbutt Wade in turn. Affection warmed her eyes, a little smile curving her lips. Their excitement was evident as the sandwich arrived. Her lower lip jut out with the mew of protest, as they were gently smushed back under the table top. The sandwich smelled good, Sadie couldn't fault them.

A soft snort as the kitten seemed to respond to the tartar sauce inquiry. She could hear the purring from across the table. Despite the stress of the day, Sadie hadn't felt this warm and comfortable since the farm.

"Good." She murmured, approvingly. Her features warmed as the whiskered sweetheart came back into view. "Hi there." She greeted in a whisper of her own, chin resting on her fist. She couldn't fault the kitten for being curious about the fries, either, they smelled good, too. Greasy, salty, fluffy. Yum. She'd already been hungry when she'd attempted her shopping trip. The adrenaline had distracted her, and then the tea had helped to stave it off a little, but not much. She supposed she could order a breakfast sandwich or something, those didn't tend to be all that expensive, and at least they typically had some protein... Or she could wait until she got to the hotel, see what was around there.

The soldier bunched herself up under the desk, palms pressed to her ears with enough pressure that she could hear the squeak of her joints. She was trying to block out the noise. The angry shouts as she disobeyed direct orders. When had she entered the office? One minute she'd been searching the aisles...

well,

Shallow breaths

A tap on her shoulder, sending her jolting alongside her racing heart, wide eyes searching for the source- an elderly woman with a light laugh, and an apology for startling her. She was only reaching for the milk

Bright, fluorescent lights

Constant chatter and clanging and beeping that was not, in fact, a heart rate monitor, and was instead the tills as the cashiers scanned various items

Too many options

kind of.

At some point she'd passed the bakery, and a small child in a cart had wheeled by, holding a...

And then she'd found herself in the office. The door was locked from the inside. The desk had the indent of fingers on the edge of it's surface, as though imprinted in wet cement. One of it's legs wiggled like a snake. Both still gleaned with the sweat of her hands.

The manager kept slamming on the door, shouting and raving about calling the police, and company files and trespassing. And yet she was frozen in place. - For Wade, sadiebrin

@sadiebrin

"Donuts or muffins?" Wade muttered to himself as he looked around the bakery section. His head tilted to one side, then the other. "Eh, they each have their good points..."

It was supposed to rain today. Not just rain, thunderstorm. So far, though, the sky had gone dark for a couple hours and it had gotten rather windy, but so far... no rain or thunder. Perfect weather for Wade to do a little shopping during normal human hours without fear of getting too impaired by the sun. He'd felt a mild tingling on his skin when he stepped outside, but... not too bad. And really, he just had to go from his apartment building to his SUV, and then from there into the store. He could do that standing on his head, so... time to shop.

Being a vampire sucked, pun intended. Needing blood all the time was not only unappealing to Wade, but it was massively inconvenient with his schedule and lifestyle. And he refused to give up the foods he loved, even if they did nothing for him nowadays. At least he could eat whatever he wanted without fear of getting fat or developing heart disease, since whatever made him a vampire seemed to regulate his body to keep it in tip-top shape without him having to do much of anything.

His deliberations on exactly what kind of indulgent human food to buy were interrupted by a very distressed woman staggering from near where he was toward the back of the store. Confections could wait. Wade followed her, sensing that something was very wrong. When she went inside an office and slammed the door, Wade stopped and watched as the manager began pounding on the door like a child throwing a tantrum. "Really?" Wade mumbled to himself.

Making his way to the door, Wade laid his hand on the manager's shoulder. "Take a breath, okay? I think she's havin' some kinda problem." The manager was taking too many breaths, as it were, and spouting more boisterous nonsense about how she wasn't allowed in there, and if she didn't come out right this instant he was going to called the cops!

With an irritated smirk, Wade reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Dude, relax, I am the cops," he said, flashing his badge just fast enough for the manager to see something that looked official but not long enough for him to actually read that it only said government licensed bounty hunter on it. It worked, and the manager took a step back from the door. Only one. Wade looked at him like, you gotta be kiddin' me with this bullshit. "Yeah, you wanna gimme some time here, man? I'll handle it, don't worry." With that, the manager huffed and left to deal with an irate woman who couldn't find the type of cheese she wanted and was making it everyone else's problem.

"Hey... miss?" he called through the door. "You okay in there? Need some help?" He was trying to get through to the woman but also sound as non-threatening as he could manage.

[iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife]

Every time i stumble upon another "omg Manfred Von Karma was a good father!!!!!1!1!1!" post i kinda want to scream? Like are we all talking about the same man.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Sat politely ankles crossed hands folded please say you have more thoughts about the DC deweys. Lazarus pit cold-eyed stare pristine and bloodthirsty anyway I would love to hear any further thoughts if you have the time + energy + motivation

how i imagine you waiting for me to re-read the resurrection of ra’s al-ghul and hush vol. 1+2:

ALRIGHT. in no particular order, thoughts about the dc deweys

connor fits very well into the mold of a talia al-ghul for me; chip on his shoulder, femme fatale, deadly and precise. he’s not the loudest but he’s got a dry wit that’ll cut you!

“why is connor an al-ghul at all and not batman” well first of all he’s already got the water connection, i’m gonna go dip him into the lake a couple hours north of the pas to make him incredibly long-lived, rejuvenated and beautiful

second of all i want him to be a questionable villain/antihero because he looks evil in those pictures but like beautiful evil. you see him at a multi-million dollar soirée and he’s bored of being there wearing his “heritage” beads and jewels he originally had from a thousand years ago. he and his assassins are only here to murder the head of state who’s planning to lay a pipeline through ancestral grounds

rip brandon duhaime i simply cannot imagine you as any kind of batman. lacks the gravitas, too much of a yapper, loves his wife too much. i curse thee to be green arrow if you’re in this narrative at all

assuming connor stays with toronto, would LOVE to think about toronto as one of the sites of the lazarus pit for many reasons

(a brief aside here to say that for me personally this is interesting if connor goes to winnipeg because i think they suit him better, he’s a manitoba boy, but re: the chip on his shoulder, he’s NOT a manitoba boy. he’s from the pas and very proud of it)

a) the amount of ‘toronto is the center of the universe’ hockey creation myths i can play with & birth/rebirth/reincarnation. if you WANT to feel unhinged trying to blend hockey and comics is an ice rink not just a pool of water?

b) mr. cathal kelly i love your works!!! toronto eats its young!!! thinking about this very literally in the sense of the resurrection arc where players come to toronto and are sacrificed, give up their body, their skill, in service of the demon’s head, and lose themselves.

c) we see echos of the same narratives and styles over and over again—if i can hop over to the flyers for a second, there is of course the curse of the *8s (18 richards, 28 claude, 48 danny b, 68 nolan, 88 lindros) but ALSO the danny brière -> tk -> morgan frost celly chain. every generation a resurrection, emerging clean and new from the pit

can you just briefly hold my hand and imagine wayne gretzky as an evil ra’s al-ghul wanting to possess a new body. gretzky i’m sorry to malign you and i know you never played in toronto but you are the best player in my head to fit the idea, i’m open to other suggestions

coming BACK to green arrow dewey (i did not re-watch arrow or re-read those comics sorry) connor could also be black canary, who takes a brief dip into the lazarus pit (toronto) before getting married to oliver. i do like that narrative but because we were talking about pristine and cold-blooded i figured connor dewar head of the league of assassins was more what you were after

now that i’ve gotten through world building… choose your own adventure narratives?

hockey-ish au: connor chosen as a host for the Next One. i think the lineage of the great one -> next one -> next next one -> next one up of gretzky -> crosby -> mcdavid -> bedard is taken, BUT i can imagine that the league of old boys all have the same intentions. connor gets sent to toronto unknowingly being prepped to get body-snatched by ???? and brandon duhaime of course accidentally stumbles on the plot and they have to fight to stop it

connor assassinating people :) snapshot of the head of the league of assassins delegating which major world events they’re going to change today. would love his shark face from the gifset to have blood spattered across it, ideally.

version 1 as head of the league of assassins: brandon is one of his assassins, big strong bodyguard type. devoted to him, would lay down his life, perfectly designed for connor (lady shiva/cassandra cain-ish). connor orders for something to be done and brandon does it there for him then gently wipes the blood off his face and apologizes for being careless and getting him messy.

version 2 as head of the league of assassins: an actual plot where connor aims to assassinate SOMEONE but brandon gets in the way. they meet at odds as their respective roles (hero, leader of a crime syndicate) but are magnetically drawn together as their alter egos. eventually brandon puts together the pieces of the Big Evil and manages to (legally!-ish as much as vigilante-ism can be legal) take it down and the ending panels show a tentative friendship and recognition of potential shared goals

also, jaromir jágr is immortal. don’t know if this is relevant OR related but he is. personal hot spring lazarus pit?

um. thanks for coming to my 1.5k ted talk (including tags). what a way to moritz seider lore drop that i DID grow up a comic book nerd, lmao. thank you so much for enabling me <3 i'll be here all week thinking about which teams would get what rings in a blackest night au

[gammija]

i love s4, and im enjoying listening to it with the magaday, but i forgot it would also lead to the worst thing: seeing people interpret media differently than me on the internet OTL

[keeps-ache]

i need more object-head OCs. it's So imperative to my health

[leatherbookmark]

hongjoong's cutest outfit in the thanxx mv

[bitchfitch]

For all the teething I've been doing on Pavo and Esti i haven't been able to like, actually write any thing for them recently mostly because I've been Busy.

But also because I'm snapping between like 3 ideas for them at terminal velocity and haven't been able to actually get anything written for them and it's like having pumas bouncing around my skull at mach fuck as though theyre house cats at 2 am when you're trying to sleep,

[star-ocean-peahen]

After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.