#my father used to dance with me like this

[meadowfics]

postpartum

husband!babyfather!kang dae-ho x f!wife!mom!reader

in a world where you did get to have your family, unlike what happened here

warnings: mentions of normal post-pregnancy stuff like breastmilk pumping. postpartum depression. dae-ho being ALIVE in this one and being the best husband to you and father to your babies <3

heavily requested in my inbox after what I posted yesterday LMAO

the weight of it all is suffocating.

you sit on the couch, your body sinking into the cushions as exhaustion drapes over you like a heavy, unshakable blanket. 

in your arms, tiny and delicate, byeol drinks from her bottle, her little fingers curling and uncurling against your chest, her slow, steady suckling the only sound anchoring you in the moment.

the babies tiny body is warm against you, her breaths soft, her features too much like dae-ho’s that it makes your heart ache.

normally, you would be lost in adoration, in awe of this little life you brought into the world. you would trace her perfect cheeks with your fingers, marvel at the way her lashes flutter as she drinks, kiss the soft long hair she inherited from her father. 

today, you are simply trying to hold yourself together.

your body is sore, aching from the endless cycle of feeding, pumping, and barely sleeping. your mind feels foggy, tangled with thoughts you don’t want to have, emotions you don’t want to feel. 

you love your daughters, you love dae-ho, you love your family. you would never trade this for anything. 

however, the love isn’t enough to make the heaviness go away.

across the room, seo-ah plays on the floor, a bright burst of energy that fills every corner of the house. she chatters to her stuffed animals, her high-pitched giggles filling the space, making everything feel alive in a way that you cannot.

“appa! look! teddy is dancing!” 

she exclaims, lifting her stuffed bear into the air, twirling it in circles.

dae-ho, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, gasps in exaggerated excitement. 

“wahhh! so cool, teddy is so talented!”

seo-ah beams at the praise, her eyes crinkling as she twirls again, her joy infectious, her laughter like sunshine.

normally, that sound would lift you. 

normally, watching dae-ho be the incredible father that he is would warm your heart, remind you that you are not alone in this, that you have him.

today, it only makes the exhaustion worse.

dae-ho’s gaze flickers toward you, sharp and observant, even as he stays engaged with seo-ah’s game. 

he doesn’t miss the tension in your shoulders, the blankness in your eyes, the way your responses are slower, quieter than usual.

he gets up, making his way to you, crouching in front of the couch so that he’s level with you. 

“baby,” he murmurs, his voice soft, careful. 

“are you okay?”

you manage a small smile. 

“yeah, just tired.”

the marine’s warm, calloused hands settle on your knees, thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles. 

“do you want me to take byeol for a bit? you’ve been holding her all day.”

you shake your head, your arms instinctively tightening around byeol’s small frame. 

“no, i got it.”

dae-ho doesn’t push. he never does. 

he simply nods, but the concern lingers in his eyes.

after twenty minutes, when byeol finishes her bottle, you sigh, shifting in your seat. 

“love, can you do their bedtime routine tonight? i feel… gross. i just wanna shower.”

dae-ho’s expression softens instantly, and without hesitation, he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple before carefully lifting mini byeol from your arms. 

“of course, baby. take your time, okay?”

he doesn’t say it to make you feel better. he means it. 

every time, every single time, he is happy to take care of his girls. 

he never complains, never hesitates. 

he loves them, loves you.

as he walks away, bouncing byeol gently in his arms, calling for seo-ah in that affectionate tone he always uses, you make your way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you.

unfortunately, the moment you step into the shower, the relief you so desperately crave does not come.

the warm water cascades down your skin, but it does nothing to ease the exhaustion weighing down on you. 

the pressure is strong, firm against your sore muscles, but you still feel tense, wound so tightly that no amount of heat can unravel you.

you let your head drop forward, resting your forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall. your arms hang limply at your sides, the steam rising around you in thick waves. 

for a moment, you try to breathe…slow, deep, steady. but it doesn’t help. nothing does.

your body doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

your breasts ache, swollen and sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. your stomach, still soft and a little stretched from carrying byeol, stirs something sharp and cruel inside you, something that whispers that you’ll never look or feel the same again. 

honestly, you cannot recall if you felt like this after having seo-ah.

you press your palm against yourself, fingers tracing over the faint marks left behind from your pregnancy, and you don’t know whether you love them or hate them.

a lump forms in your throat as your gaze flickers downward. 

your thighs, your waist, the curve of your hips—none of it looks the way it used to. 

you know, logically, that your body is healing, that you just brought a life into this world. 

sometimes logic doesn’t quiet the thoughts that get at you, that tell you you are different now in a way that you can’t come back from.

you reach for your vanilla body wash, desperate for something familiar, something comforting.

the moment your fingers curl around the bottle, you realize it’s empty.

your breath catches.

it’s stupid. 

it’s just body wash. you can use dae-ho’s. 

it doesn’t matter.

it does.

your hand trembles slightly as you pick up his bottle instead, the scent of cedarwood and musk filling the space. it smells like him, like the warmth of his embrace, like the shirts you steal from his side of the closet. 

you squeeze the soap into your net sponge, rubbing it over your arms, your shoulders, your chest. the wrongness lingers, settling into the hollow of your ribs like an ache that won’t fade.

when will this get easier?

the thought slams into you like a wave, sudden and suffocating.

your chest tightens, and before you can stop it, tears spill over your cheeks, mixing with the water streaming down your face.

you bite down on your lip, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but it’s useless. the emotions hit all at once, hard and overwhelming, crushing under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in.

your shoulders shake as the sobs build, as the exhaustion and frustration and sadness pour out of you in waves you can’t control. 

you press a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds, trying not to let it get too loud and scare seo-ah from her bedroom.

no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you tell yourself to just get over it, to just be strong…you can’t stop.

the walls feel too close. the steam is suffocating. the sound of the water is deafening.

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto the tile as you try to catch your breath, try to pull yourself together, try to remind yourself that you are okay.

you don’t feel okay.

you don’t know when you will again.

your body still aches. your breasts are sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. 

the final straw.

and then—

the door creaks open.

you don’t hear footsteps, don’t hear anything other than your own quiet cries. 

then the shower door slides open, and suddenly, there he is.

dae-ho.

your husband.

your breath catches as he takes you in….your trembling frame, the water streaming down your face, the way you try so desperately to wipe away the evidence of your breakdown.

he’s not having any of it.

without a word, he steps forward, his black shirt and joggers instantly soaked as he pulls you into his arms.

“baby,” he breathes against your wet hair, his voice thick with emotion. 

“don’t do that. don’t hide from me.”

you break.

your hands clutch at his shirt, your sobs shaking your whole body as he holds you. his large hands cradle the back of your head, his fingers slipping through your soaked hair as he rocks you gently.

“i know it’s hard,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“but i’m right here. i’ll always be right here.”

and you believe him.

he stays with you until the tears slow, until your breathing steadies. 

then, gently, he helps you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you before drying you off with so much tenderness it nearly makes you cry all over again.

you don’t lift a finger.

he stands behind you, brushing through your damp hair before braiding it, his fingers moving with practiced ease thanks to his older sisters. 

he massages your vanilla body butter into your skin, his touch warm, comforting. when he helps you into your nightgown, his fingers linger at your waist, his gaze full of something so raw, so real, that it makes your breath hitch.

in bed, he helps you pump, his hands resting on your thighs, his presence a grounding force.

finally, when you’re settled against him, you whisper, 

“did they go to sleep easily?”

dae-ho hums. 

“byeol was easy, but seo-ah went on a five-minute rant about oreo ice cream before tiring herself out.”

you giggle softly, your heart swelling. 

“she really loves that ice cream.”

you don’t speak again until the question that has been weighing on you slips past your lips.

“dae…will i feel beautiful again?”

dae-ho’s response is immediate.

he pulls you close, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

“you are beautiful now,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“you’ve always been beautiful. you gave us the most perfect babies. and i promise, baby, you’ll feel normal again. until then, i’ll be here. every step of the way.”

and in his arms, in his warmth, you believe him.

you will be okay, even if postpartum depression keeps trying to consume you.

masterlist

[heykaya]

Happy to see you posting again!

Can I ask why Alex is your favorite?

hehe glad I was missed :3

Reasons I love Alex:

Gives you a job.

Gives you part of his farm.

Gives you a safe place to live and a room of your own, even before you romance him.

Will never rape you.

Will drop everything to run over and save you.

DOL-town royalty is threatening me (a teenager)? Lol let me tell Remy to fuck off.

Will also tell Bailey to fuck off to protect you, even to his own detriment.

Hard working and muscular.

Muscular.

Muscular.

Cooks you breakfast every morning, even at Max dom.

Gently bumps his head against yours.

Will spank you (at high dom).

Will eat you for breakfast (at low dom).

Scenic horse riding dates.

Smart enough to make drugs.

Comes from a family of farmers, still humble enough to listen to PC’s Tending tips.

Introduces you to his father who gives you $10k.

Actually has social skills and isn’t afraid to talk to people on the phone.

Is funny + can dance.

He’s such a good dad 😭

(Also I’m into that housewife tradlife thing. I used to go for Eden but he’s pretty boring tbh. Plus, Alex cooks you breakfast while Eden feeds you his leftovers. seriously wtf is up with that?!)

Like his dad says, he is dogged (super stubborn and persistent). PC has the option to stop Alex from being so fucking insane. Pulling him back from fighting a group of Remy’s goons, discouraging him from drinking so much and dealing drugs - they all reduce his Love. It doesn’t make him happy, but imo it’s what’s best for him. But since this is a game where even the bad ends are temporary, I join in on the crazy shit.

His biggest flaw is paying PC less at high dominance. I’m willing to overlook this because of the super hot spanking scene + you can make a shitload of money from the fields anyway. If he makes you mad you can call him a weak little bitch during encounters lol (his insecurity is strength).

Fr despite all of Alex’s abilities, I don’t think he’d be able to flourish and protect the farm from Remy without PC’s help. An orphan and a struggling farmer. One found a safe home and a family, the other made his dreams a reality. And together, they lived happily ever after :D

As happily as you can in DOL-town, at least.

(Also to comment on the others)

Robin:

Initially found him cute, but the more I got to know him the less I like him.

Literally PC's babies are less demanding than Robin.

Robin does not deserve confidence.

Whitney

The only thing he awakens in me is violence.

Dismissed every time no mercy gg

I agree he's super hot though. I'll enjoy him via fanart instead.

Eden

(see above)

Avery

He shows up once a week, gives me money, and fucks off. Very appealing!

I think he's OK. Just remember that he's incapable of truly loving PC.

As a source of income he's fine. As a lover no because of above + his dates are really repetitive.

Kylar

This guy should not be outside.

Sydney

He's very sweet and I get the appeal, but he's not my type.

[pleasuretrade]

snippet from my wild west clegan AU to prove i am actually writing it and want to post it instead of getting halfway thru and then letting it rot in my docs forever like 95% of my writing. yay

very unedited pls be nice

 John returned with his saddlebags around noon, sweating from the high sun and smelling suspiciously like a saloon. Gale met him on the porch, Alf keeping an eye on him, and led him up the stairs. The second floor of the house was all wood stained with fake color, making the cheap oak look like something richer, wallpaper and more oil lamps than they ever used. Gale showed John to the third bedroom, simple and dusty. John heaved his bags onto the bed and tossed his hat on the low table nearby and Gale found himself standing and staring, unable to move while John ran his fingers through his short, loose curls.

 Why had John lied to Gale’s father for him? All they had under their belt together was one day and a stock association meeting. Gale tucked his hand under his opposite elbow, thumbed at his bottom lip. “You ain’t have to cover for me like that,” he said.

 John didn’t look at him. Sat on the edge of the bed and took his boots off. “What really happened? I was across the room and all of the sudden the guy was on the ground and everyone was talking about that Cleven boy.”

There was a little smile on John’s face. Gale couldn’t tell if it was patronizing or not. John took his horsehair brush from a saddlebag, started in on his boots.

 The fact of the matter was, the guy had called Gale a sodomite, right there in the crowded dance hall. Name was Henry, if Gale recalled. He’d known him vaguely since they were small and he was one of the few people in town who remembered the rumors that had gone around about a fifteen year old Gale, back in the day. But John didn’t need to know that.

“Didn’t like the way he was talking to me.”

 John laughed, bright and sincere. “I take it you’ve got a reputation.”

“I don’t know,” Gale lied, “I don’t listen to town gossip.”

“Hey, I respect a fighting man.” John buffed at his boot, all strong forearms and firm grip. Gale swallowed. John looked up. “Just take it easy on me, alright?”

 Friendly again. They didn't need to be friends. “Don’t give me a reason not to.”

 Finally, John seemed to be deterred somehow, see that Gale wasn’t here to get to know him, and scoffed. “Alright, cowboy.”

[wrongbodies]

A Wanted Exchange

When I first met Oren I would never have thought where I'd end up with this beautiful twink. We ran into each other at a club, a loud and hectic joint that had many sweaty, dancing bodies pressed up against one another in pinkish lights. I was there, carving out a space with my broad shoulders and muscular frame.

And there was Oren. He wasn't intimidated by me. He was bold, swooping right into my space, and then he was upon me. Grinding against me, I could feel his lithe body almost flowing around me like water. But there was an aggression there, almost like he wanted to throw his weight around, boss and bully me. All 120 pounds of his tiny body.

I was intoxicated right then and there. I wanted him. At first I thought it was just in the typical carnal fashion. But I realize now it was so much more.

I took him home of course. We tangled togther far longer than expected. He tried to push and pull me in ways his body and tiny muscles just could not handle. I was gentle. I have always been something of a gentle giant.

Growing up my father was a harsh one, and forced me to play football from 7, and all throughout the rest of my school career. Even in college, it was verboten that I quit. I remember coming out, well after finishing my degree mind you, and how he coiled back in disgust. I was his manly son, his juggernaut of an athlete. But inside I always wanted something else.

Which brings me back to Oren. Our hookup was not the end of our interaction. He found my gentle nature endearing, as I in turn found his domineering ways attractive. I so desperately wanted to submit to him, but our physical dynamic was just too skewed. I couldn't help but toss him around if I wasn't careful. And he hated being on the bottom, or receiving.

After weeks of trying, we realized we weren't truly happy. And in the breakdown of our disappointment, we both admitted what we wanted. He lamented his tiny, perfectly lithe body. I too bemoaned my broad, powerful body. It wasn't to say we weren't proud of ourselves, both being healthy young men. Rather, it was a sort of melancholy about not being able to experience what the other had, and admittedly - we were so envious of.

And so, when the advertisements for a scientific study came out, asking for willing subjects to try a new technology... we jumped at it. It seemed like something from a science fiction novel, but the way the doctors explained it we were properly convinced it was real.

They asked us many questions about our health, our relationship, and then what we wanted. Over the weeks we were subjected to different tests, they asked us the question we both were secretly hoping they'd put forward.

"What if this is permanent?" The nasal-voiced doctor had asked. I was alone, Oren being interviewed in a different room. I'd learn later he responded much the same as I had. But when I responded, it was an enthusiastic confirmation - that would be perfectly fine.

The day of the procedure came, and we were inserted into coffin like tubes, our heads covered in wires and such that looked like what one might use for a brain scan. I suppose that was part of the procedure, anyways. After the all clear was given, it took moments for me to black out. And in that time we were out, it was nothingness... a void.

But when I awoke, everything was ALIVE. I knew what to expect, understanding that I'd be groggy from the anesthetic. However, I pushed through the fog in my excitement. I needed to feel it all. Even before they opened the tube, I was feeling my arms, my chest, and then my face. Nothing prepares you for the sensations. There is no earthly equivalent to it... awakening in another persons body.

What followed was euphoric. Despite the initial hiccups, like learning that your brain still thinks you have limbs longer than this new body, or forgetting you are significantly lighter and weaker. Limitations that I never had before were daunting, at first. But then I came to love them. I was finally free to be the person I always felt inside. A man with a body more aptly described as pretty, and not rugged. With fingers soft and supple, unblemished by years of tackling and tossing a ball.

Oren felt the same, in reverse. We were hesitant at first to resume our relationship. It wasn't right away that we tried anything, sexually. But the first interactions were indicative of our blossoming romance. He would take my new, delicate face in his - my former - rough hands. Guiding my lips to his, where he almost hungrily kissed me. His bear hugs engulfed me, at times sweeping me off my feet. I was the willing waif, powerless to stop it, but desperately wanting it.

When we did finally return to the bed, entangled in one anothers embrace, there was a sort of epiphany. The realization that we got exactly what we wanted, and that looking back - albeit not much of an issue before - was perished. We did not need to even question it - I NEEDED to be Oren. And he needed to be me.

As for all the other details, since we began dating, we assimilated into one anothers lives. Our families and friends were never made aware of what transpired in that experiment. And save a few follow up interviews and information gathering sessions, the deal was sealed. Oren and I were never happier with our lives than now, when in truth... we weren't living our lives, but one anothers. How freeing it was for us to become the thing we always wanted. And through that, to find love. It was strange to kiss my former face, but knowing it was Oren behind those eyes, and happier for it, made it all too easy to love him.

I'm never going back.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

My UNPOPULAR opinion about Babygirl:

To say I went into it not at all the demo audience that the film was being catered to is an understatement, but blame Pedro Pascal for piquing my interests in seeing it thanks to his RAVE REVIEWS and overall enthusiasm for Babygirl. I listened to the A24 podcast he did with the director of Babygirl and it sounded so unlike what I thought the movie would be, that I said "Ah, fuck it. What the hell let's see it" last night.

So I'm either the biggest PRUDE in the world next to Pedro Pascal, or this just was everything I hate about the power play, degradation trope that's so en vogue these days!

I'm curious what other Xennials, Millennials and Gen Xers think of the movie, because I know that Gen Z loves this degradation shit. I just cannot get down with it.

Ultimately while it had great performances throughout, I think my issue is I am an outcomes-focused person. If I'm presented with a scenario in which I know there is even a HINT of a possible destructive outcome, I just don't do it. And from the get go, that's all the plot is - one long, predictable, dangerously destructive outcome. Also, I think there's a fine line between consensual power play dynamics being a normal and healthy outlet versus degrading exercises in entrapment and coercion that can psychologically and emotionally damage the participants. And this movie - to me - heavily falls in the latter.

It's one thing to have the thrill of, "Oh, we could get caught and that is thrilling yet scary yet invigorating." It's another for it to be predicated on, "Well I could go report you right now and ruin your life. I could destroy your career and you'll lose everything, unless you tell me what I want to hear and do what I say."

And while it's hinted at throughout that these are two consenting adults, ultimately, who are confused and unsure and neurotic about what they're embarking and peddling in with each other, ultimately the coercive element is ALWAYS present and threatened several times by him, and the resolution at the end of the film - to me - proves he had ulterior motives the entire time. And if he didn't, then he was reckless and frivolous the way he goes about things. But worse, like Antonio Banderas' character proclaims, she is the one who jeopardizes her family and kids over her neurotic and banal sexual proclivities and can't be honest about that until she's been confronted with exposure.

There's no villain or anything like that in this (except for her power-obsessed assistant using her knowledge of their relationship to leverage a promotion over the threat of exposing her elicit affair with the dude, who was an intern AND the assistant's bf 🙈), but the mania and horny hysteria over it says a lot to me about the state of interpersonal relationships, self worth, and the need to be gratified by engaging in perilous and harmful behavior; being degraded under the threat of personal fallout in order to reel with the need to be infantilized and protected by the force that's degrading you to begin with 🤢

Also PS - the dude was not hot at all enough to justify all this shit! 😅 NOW, if Paul Mescal was her intern telling her what to do and calling her babygirl, I might've seen the appeal, even just a little. But this dude looks like he has anemia and a vitamin D deficiency! And his "Father Figure" dance was the most cringe, unsexy thing to me!

[yumepeachy]

you know when a kid steps in a adult feet to waltz with them? ellga does that with chip, like a dad and his daughter

bart has a song to each routine task in gum gum's day (like his wake-a-by song), it helps both of them remember their routine and it's just more fun in general!

i am trying to give a brazilian song to each one of the characters, so here is the ones that i already figured out:

• Bart - Descobridor dos Sete Mares, Tim Maia (i have the idea that Bart would be a professional in Jogo do Bicho)

• Mudd - Reza, Rita Lee and Pais e Filhos, Legião Urbana (he would be such a Rita Lee and Ney Matogrosso fan)

• Chip - Mina do Condomínio, Seu Jorge; Pelados em Santos, Mamonas Assassinas; Ela Partiu, Tim Maia; Exagerado, Cazuza (i give him the honorary brazilian uncle title because he is like every brazilian cool uncle everyone has who used a flamengo shirt and has a beer belly)

• Carol (giving her two because i love her so much) - Flor de Tangerina, Alceu Valença and Menina Veneno, Richie (I have a full playlist just with musics about this two)

• Barney - Pela Luz dos Olhos Teus, Miúcha e Tom Jobim and Meu Limão, Meu Limoeiro, Wilson Simonal (THIS OLD MAN WAS THERE WHEN THIS LEGENDS ARE BORN, HE IS ALSO A BIG ELIS REGINA FAN)

• I am still thinking about giving Lágrimas e Chuva, Kid Abelha to Mathilde or to Ellga, the others i still have no idea... I also have a lot of ideias if all of them in a human modern au in brasil, i going to put all of it in the paper later.

anyone have any tftsd headcanons they wanna share (desperate)

[britneyshakespeare]

can you imagine being a little twee simon and garfunkel fan in the late 60s and then buying your new vinyl at the record store and hearing mrs. robinson for the first time in your own home. i would’ve fallen over backwards

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i wanna kill the diaz parents with hammers

[inkykeiji]

tw: drug addiction

i just gotta say, the sound of the phone ringing and the sirens, both so masterfully folded into the beat at the beginning of agnes, is fucking bone chilling. it gives me waves of chills every single time and i don’t think that feeling, the feeling of full-body bouts of chills that course through me from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes until dave’s voice kicks in, will ever go away.

this song captures the trajectory of addiction SO well. i literally cannot even put it into words. but it’s so comforting????? it’s so comforting to hear someone else who has presumably lost a loved one (a close friend, in this situation) to the demon of addiction, outline the full course of its development.

i feel like,,, if you don’t have someone close to you who has struggled with and fought with addiction, it is so difficult for you to truly and fully understand how devastatingly heartbreaking—and excruciatingly painful—it is to watch the ravenous monster that is addiction fucking devour this person from the inside out. slowly. it corrodes their smile, it decays their mind, it dulls every single aspect of life except for when they’re high. they become nothing more than a shell of their former selves; a host for this parasitic sickness, who’s only care in life is that next fix, irregardless of what they have to do or who they have to hurt to get it.

and once that monster has been birthed inside of you, it never fully goes away. you fight it for the rest of your fucking life, irregardless of how much treatment you’ve gone through, irregardless of if you’re in treatment for the rest of your days on this earth. you battle those psychological cravings until you die, especially if your addiction was a coping mechanism or a self-soothing mechanism (which is so often is). it changes you and your life forever. and i dunno, i guess i feel like there’s still so many people who just can’t comprehend this and comprehend how much of a sickness addiction truly is. and i guess it’s really nice to find an artist you admire so much who DOES get it, who HAS experienced it. that’s all, i think.

[reflection-s-of-stars]

I memorized all my limes!

[milo-is-rambling]

I forget how much I hate the taste of vodka but the whipped cream vodka is so much better my god

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

I make claims to 67, 107, 133.....and sometimes 30 and 56....even though I feel creepy with family.

[celiaelise]

Wait what there's autistic pain tolerance???

[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.

[luludeluluramblings]

Socialite!BatSis!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Hi! I don't know where the fuck this came from. But, it has plagued me for months. Inspired by Labour and the Fruits by Paris Palmoa, Please Don't Cry for Your Daughters Eve by Lydia the Bard, and Curses by the Crane Wives. This my attempt at being dark, so either this fucks you up or I fucked up. Apologies for both.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Implied assault, neglect, yandere themes at the end

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You got the Wayne looks, the Wayne charm, the Wayne name, but you’re fragile. Bruce would tell you. Damian would tell you. (Not so kindly.) Everyone in the manor would tell you.

But, charm and good looks still have their uses. And, everyone in the family despises all the galas they need to attend.

So, when Bruce offers to take you to one, you up the charm, you dress your best. You use your finest manners and all the proper ways your Momma raised you to your advantage. And, you flourish.

You can tell from the slight smile Bruce has on his face on the way home. The hint of pride in his eyes at your job well done.

You can’t help your family or Gotham as a Bat. But, you can help them as a Wayne.

The socialite. That’s your roll. Not a bird, not a bat. A little social butterfly. Drawing the public attention away from the things that go bump in the night.

You like your role. Sure, you're not bounding over the Gotham skyline saving people from muggers and insanely themed villains. But, you're helping your family, and that's what matters to you.

At least, that's how it starts.

It was special to you in the beginning. Going to charity gala's and events with your father, Bruce. No one else in the family enjoys going to these events. It was your own personal father and daughter bonding time, in a way.

But, as you got older the pressure started and the distance between you and the others grew.

You were a music box ballerina. Spinning in place to the same tune over and over again while sitting on a dusty shelf. And, Bruce would wind you up to dance every time he need his social butterfly to charm Gotham's public.

Soon you had a whole team of faceless people picking out your dresses, changing your style, cutting your hair. You couldn't be anything less than a vain air-headed heiress, because that was your role. Brucie needed someone to follow in his footsteps, not Batman.

The dresses got more expensive, the flashes got brighter. The diets got stricter.

And, the distance grew farther.

And, then Bruce stopped going with you to the galas.

You weren't upset the first time. Or, the second time. Or, even the third time.

It was the fourth time that things started to crack.

Sure, Batman was needed. Sure, there was Justice League business. Sure, there was a patrol that ran late. Sure, there was a breakout at Arkham.

But, the fourth time, when you found him and the rest of the family laughing in the cave, it really didn't feel like they were focusing on the good of Gotham while you were struggling to smile sweetly at men twice Bruce's age wanting to take you home.

Still, you powered on. Kept doing your part. You were making the family proud afterall.

Right?

It was the ninth time it happened that you broke.

The nineth time you had gone to a gala alone in an expensive dress you didn't pick, one that showed off way too much skin. One that seemed to tell everyone in that grand ballroom that you were up for the taking. One that just barely hid the bruises from their fingers and palms under the fabric.

You wore that placating smile and that dress all the way home. With a driver you didn't know at the wheel of the car Bruce sent for you. The backseat empty even if you sat on it.

When you got home, you walk in on something that made each cracked piece of you ache.

Apparently it was game night. Everyone that mattered was playing Mario cart of all things.

"Look at that Cinderella’s back from the ball." Jason was the first to notice you standing in the doorway of the room. And, his words burned.

Cinderella. Cinderella. Back from the Ball.

"Hey, glad you’re back. Hope you had fun." Dick didn't even glance at you as he spoke, took focused on beating Stephanie who had her tongue sticking out as she concentrated.

"God, those galas are so boring, I don’t know how you do it." Duke says in passing. It would be meaningful if he hadn't said the same thing the last six times you had come home.

Tim and Damian were also playing the game, with Tim occasionally nudging Damian to mess him up. Like typical siblings.

Barbara was in the room as well, a book on her lab to read. Only you could tell she hadn't read much, judging from where her book mark was located.

"Good job." Bruce says absentmindedly. You can't even tell if its directed at you or at the blueshell Damian just managed to hit Dick's racer with.

Words don't even leave your lips as you exit the doorway, pieces of you falling to the floor as you wobble to your room.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

The clock striking twelve in your mind as you feel the rotten pumpkin sinking in your gut and the magic wearing off.

You don't notice that Cassandra seems to hear it too as she watches you. Like she can hear the shards falling to the ground. And, she's unsure if she needs to warn the family that something just broke down the hall.

As you enter your room, taking in the fancy decor. It feels disgusting. The magic is gone. It's all rotten and you want it gone.

Cinderella. Cinder. Cinder.

Your tear the fabric of the dress as you take it off. Tears falling down your cheeks s you struggle against the fabric and clasp. Expensive gemstones falling to the floor as your finally rip it free.

There bruises under your dress. Finger prints on your bones. And, you're choking on air as the fabric rubs your skin as it falls to the floor. The fabric ripples like water and you hate it. You want the opposite of cool rippling water. Water drowns, and you need air.

Your skin feels to hot and each bruise burns.

Cinder. Cinder.

You're Cinderella and you crave ashes. You need air, but smoke will do instead.

Instead of letting it lay on the ground like it's dead, you throw open that grand window in your room and chuck it out the window. Watching as it flutters and falls to the grass in a heap, the breeze doing nothing to cool your anger on and underneath.

It’s not enough. Not enough. It's not going to be enough.

More. Cinderella. Give it more.

Your closet door was cracked when you left for the gala tonight. Now you break it the rest of the way and grab each hanger carrying a pretty dress in a bag and throw it over the ledge.

Still not enough. Needs more ash.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

You break you dresser as you rip out the drawers. The wood splintering as you throw it out the window and on to the pile of dresses on the night dew covered grass.

You want to throw more, but you chest is heaving and your hands are shaking. Instead you stumble out of your room with just the bruises on your skin and towards the kitchen. You don't even hear the pans and cabinets doors slamming as you search for the matches.

Before you can find your light, you find a bottle of fancy wine. One that reminded you of the smell of this night.

You grab it, not caring that another bottle falls and shatters by your feet. Drawing attention, but not yours, as you finally find the matches and wobble out the door towards your pile of soon to be ash.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

You're laughing as you shatter the bottle on to the fabric. Lighting up a single match and then throwing the entire box at it the pile.

It catches light quick and the air around you finally matches the heat under your skin.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You can barely hear Bruce's voice from behind you as your laugh. Turing to face him and the rest of the family's horrified faces at the sight of you.

You can barely restrain the giggles.

“I’m Cinderella. Cinder fucking Ella.” You spin like the little figurine you are. Like the pretty paper ballerina before she burst into flame.

Bruce rushes towards you, words spilling from his lips as terrifying thoughts fill his head at the sight of the bruises illuminating your skin.

“What happened tonight?”

“You would know if you had been there. But, you weren't. You never are.”

“Listen, you said you liked the galas-“ Excuses, excuses. You made enough for him and the rest of them in your own head that you don't want to hear more spoken out loud.

“I did! I did! But, that was when I had my father there to keep me safe.” You mock, spinning out of reach and looking at the flames.

They don't last long. The wood from your broken dresser drawers the only thing keeping the fire going. The expensive fabric not lasting long at all. Pretty things rarely ever do.

“But, no. I’m just another little one of your pawns in this family. Only you didn’t fuckin’ train me on how to fight off wandering hands. You taught me that I just had to grin and bare it.” Bitterness trips from your lips as you wipe of that sweet tasting wine from the night off your mouth.

“What happened?” His voice almost shakes. Almost, but not quite. You were the fragile one. The paper ballerina. The little Cinderella of the family.

You weren't suppose to break under his care.

But, was there any care if he let you fall from the shelf after he so haphazardiously placed you on it between uses?

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper to yourself. Words that had been dying to say to the hands that touches to tonight. Words that you wanted to shove down the throats of the strangers that pinched your skin, that gripped you too tight and too close.

“I’M NOT A WHORE!” Instead you scream it at him. Uncaring if you don't look pretty and perfect while doing it. Uncaring if your voice cracks from the way the emotion bubbles from your chest.

Startling enough, Bruce wraps his arms around you. Like he was trying to shield you. Like he was trying to keep you safe. Like he should have done. It feels awkward and tight. Your arms pressed tightly to your chest at an awkward angle. Your legs giving out at you sob and scream at him.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you touch me. Let me go— I don’t want you to touch me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m— I’m so sorry.” His whispers over into your hair as he clutches you close. So close that you feel more bruises forming on your skin.

Cinderella. Cinderella.

“I’m not—" Your voice breaking as you wail. Like the child you are in his arms.

Through your tears you watch Dick turn away, followed by the others. Cass lingering to brush your hair back as Bruce holds you tight.

You don't see his fist clench so tight his knuckles turn white.

You don't hear the silence in the cave as Jason changes out the bullets in his gun.

You don't feel the chill in the air as Damian scouts out the fancy house.

You don't feel the fear of God that Tim puts into grown men as that watch their wealthy drain to zero before their eyes on screens.

You don't watch as Barbara makes a few calls and plants evidence of crimes that can't be covered up.

You don't see Stephanie ripping out teeth.

You don't see Duke letting Gotham go dark as terror reigns for that one long night and day.

You just see Bruce, holding you close and apologize over and over again while Alfred puts out the flames behind you.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Yeah, I love the thought of Reader being the one to be the Socialite Wayne while everyone does vigilante stuff. But, interacting with Gotham’s elite would suck so much and so many things could go wrong.

A/N: Apologies if I missed the mark with it or if it’s all over the place.

A/N: I just really loved the imagery of standing in front of a fire of expensive burning dresses while screaming at Bruce naked as the day you were born much to the rest of the family’s horror.

[thanosscross]

HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

--

Taglist!!

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