#way fulfilling and there wasn't at all :(

[canisalbus]

Is that canon!?! Was Machete just really naive/didn't really understand the implications of his relationship to Vasco? Did his mentor ever find out about them or discuss such things with him? I assume bc he didn't have parents, he kinda didn't get educated on sex or anything. Was it a big shock to realize he was "sinning"?

.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

That scene towards the end of the S3 trailer

The one where Shadow is running to save Sonic from disappearing

What if by that scene, the main conflict is changed? Nine is no longer actively trying to get ahold of Sonic, to drain the paradox prism energy from him. Just like Shadow and his focus on saving Green Hill over the Shatterverse before, he concedes that *nothing* will exist if they can't fix the paradox prism (assuming that the crew comes to the conclusion that they need to fix the paradox prism to have a chance at fixing the rapid breakdown of the shatterverse).

What if after episodes of fighting Nine and avoiding having his prism energy taken from him, Sonic gives himself over willingly. Nine has just realized how far he took things, how tunnel visioned he became on a goal with the sacrifice of things (and a person) he cared about. What if he feels guilty, resolved to help fix the universe they live in before anything else, and Sonic *asks* him to drain the energy this time?

And no matter what Shadow or Nine or anyone else says, no matter how uncertain doing so would make Sonic's fate uncertain and put it at stake, they can't refute the argument. Doing this could kill him (just like back on Ghost Hill, when Sonic asked for Nine to give him energy to match that of the prismatic titan), but is there any other way to save the shatterverse?

I'm not sure what the answer is myself, but perhaps they hope so. They're running out of time, and if they can't fix it, all of them will die. So, they all form a plan.

What if Nine feels this guilt as he drains the prism energy from Sonic? What if he feels more awful (and a little jealous) when it's up to Shadow to ultimately save him (because Shadow's the only other one who can move quite as fast)?

What if Shadow runs and runs, desperate too to make sure that Sonic won't die? What if he's frustrated at Nine and Sonic (because why did it have to come to this?), but also frustrated at himself (because maybe if he could have been there with Sonic, or maybe if he was the one searching the shatterspaces before, maybe he could have stopped all this before it went too far, maybe he could have kept Sonic safe from this fate)?

What if Shadow enters that shatterspace with Sonic in his arms, hoping so badly he'll pull through, trying not to think about what'll happen if he doesn't?

And what if Nine is the next to enter the shatterspace, arriving before anyone else? What if Nine watches Shadow hold Sonic's barely existing form and feels a pang of jealousy, and a waterfall of guilt. What will he do if Sonic doesn't pull through?

[brittlebutch]

actually it's kind of funny how people will say Alex's fatal flaw is that he 'doesn't ask for help' and that it's his determination to handle things on his own that leads to his deterioration and eventual death when his whole introduction to the present-day timeline was a very literal cry for help that simply went ignored

[longagoitwastuesday]

I have learnt things about Geto that I wish I could unlearn

[maya-tl]

Hm?... maybe something about Medic trying to find the right time to propose to Spy but ended finding Spy was also planning the perfect proposal moment. Cuz that might be a good fanfic?

(sorry to bother you, it's also my first time to ask someone with sheer confidence— )

They had talked of marriage before.

They had talked, oh yes, but they had been new and fragile then, a bloom waiting for either the right rains to make it blossom or the right drought to make it wither. The topic of marriage had been a simple conversation starter, something to keep them awake through the night when sleep didn’t matter.

Medic had been married before. An arranged thing, something his parents had agreed to in his stead—she had been too tame, too traditional for him, and he too wild, too sharp, too different, too much for her. It had been a bitter and miserable affair, a laughable attempt at normalcy, and in the end the only thing they had ever agreed on was that they weren’t for each other.

Spy’s story was a different one. He had loved her, certainly—the proof was right in front of their eyes, loud and brash with a side of Bostonian fire—but they had never been in love, and she had never asked him for more than he could give despite everything it would have meant for her.

“I would’ve stayed,” Spy had told him in the quiet of the night, looking more vulnerable than Medic had ever seen him, “I would’ve given it all up and settled, spent all my remaining days in that house with her if she only said the word. I would’ve been comfortable.”

Medic had simply turned to face him and whispered, “But would you have been happy?”

Spy had fallen silent. Looking at his tortured profile in the moonlight slipping through the window, Medic knew it was as close to a confession as he would ever get. They hadn’t spoken about marriage since, even as the months turned into years and they learned everything there was to know about each other, even after they swore their teammates to secrecy and stopped hiding themselves behind closed doors and false pretences.

Medic had looked at him one New Year’s celebration, just as the clock hit midnight and their team erupted into cheers in the background, had watched Pyro’s fireworks dance off his eyes and highlight the curve of his soft smile and decided that he was the one. He was his only choice, his forever after, his today and all of his tomorrows.

The engagement ring came a month and a half later—he’d had it custom-made, of course, and spent a fortune on the design and a little under a fortune on the jeweller’s silence. Spy had told him once that he wasn’t too fond of golden accessories and found that silver tones better complimented his complexion, and so Medic had kept that in mind and gone in the opposite direction of tradition. He’d chosen a split-band, beautifully carved platinum ring inlaid with white moissante and topped with a one-of-a-kind, trillion-cut blue diamond.

When he first held it up to the light it shone like a rainbow in the water, so brilliant it left him blinking spots from his vision. It was perfect. He set it within a thin, royal blue velvet ring box, also custom-made so he could easily conceal it, and then went about trying to do the actual proposal.

Trying being the key word. He didn’t debate much over the words he would say—a simple ‘marry me’ would be more than enough for Spy, who would appreciate the gesture far more than the words themselves—or even the place—ideally somewhere private enough that they were unlikely to be interrupted. No, that was all fine. It wasn’t even that he was nervous.

It was the timing.

He couldn’t do it on the battlefield. The tides of a battle could turn at any moment and there were too many things to focus on, such as crushing the enemy and not dying. Medic himself had to keep an eye on all his teammates and Spy had to keep an eye on all their assailants, and even if they somehow got a moment to themselves in the middle of the carnage the atmosphere simply wasn’t right.

He couldn’t do it during dinner. Besides not being private in the slightest, the team ate all of their meals together and one of them was bound to do something inappropriate the moment Medic pulled out the ring box and ruin the whole thing. Spy would immediately catch on if he made a big deal out of them dining alone too, so that option went out the window early on.

He couldn’t do it in public, much as he’d like to treat Spy to a fancy meal at a fine restaurant and a walk in the park at sunset. The world, sadly, just wasn’t ready for that.

He couldn’t do it in the bedroom. No one would interrupt them, sure, and it was as intimate as it got, but Medic was more than familiar with Spy’s complicated history of setting apart the pleasures of the body from the feelings of the heart. They’d gone down that road before, and the last thing Medic wanted to do was to blur that line again now.

The time of day mattered too. Medic didn’t want to do it in plain daylight or in the middle of the night, even if proposing under the stars was tempting. Spy struggled with insomnia, and preferred sunsets over sunrises besides, so an early morning proposal didn’t feel quite right.

It was maddening.

It also didn’t help that their schedules had begun to conflict lately. Medic knew the reason for his own odd behaviour, late nights spent agonising over the right moment disguised as research projects, and had initially assumed that Spy was going through one of his distance phases. Medic tended to be very hands-on in every aspect of his life, and while Spy welcomed and often even encouraged that, he’d made it very clear that sometimes he simply needed his space. So Medic hadn’t questioned it much, willing to wait it out for a few days—it gave him more time to think and plan.

By the time a week had rolled by, he began to suspect that something else was up. Spy wasn’t exactly avoiding him, they spent roughly the same amount of time together, but there were—quirks in his behaviour that hadn’t been there previously. Medic, who was well-versed in his moods, picked up on them easily, but it was significantly more difficult for him to figure out Spy’s train of thought than it was for Spy to figure out his, no matter how close they were. Only one of them had been trained in espionage all their life.

When he returned to his room from another late afternoon spent in the lab—actually researching this time, more to take his mind off things than to achieve any scientific breakthrough—and found Spy’s suit jacket folded over the desk chair, but no actual sign of Spy, he decided that he’d waited long enough. If the right moment never came, so be it. Neither of them were getting any younger, despite his best efforts and the effects of the respawn system.

He took off his gloves and his coat and hung them in their proper place in the closet, stuffed the ring box in the folds of the front pocket of his pants and set off. It was almost dinnertime and it was Engineer’s turn to cook, so most of his teammates would be swarming the kitchen, which gave him the opportunity to search the base at his leisure.

Spy wasn’t in his own bedroom or his smoking room, or in the firing range, and Medic knew he wouldn’t be hanging around in the living room when he could be fashionably late to dinner. That left only one place that Medic knew he frequented.

The sky was alive with the colours of sunset, soft pinks and warm oranges and fiery reds. A light breeze was cruising over the desert, making the few scattered trees growing near their base shiver and the tumbleweeds dance on the nearest horizon, and the tors and mesas burned like a mirage under the light of the lowering sun.

Spy was leaning against the railing of the balcony, his back turned to the door, and he didn’t acknowledge Medic beyond the miniscule tensing and then relaxing of his shoulders. His tie was loose and the top button of his undershirt undone, which Medic found out when he snaked his arms around his waist and leaned down to press his mouth to his skin.

“Something on your mind, mein schatz?” he murmured, and Spy hummed. He turned his head, allowing them to touch foreheads.

“Many things, lately,” Spy said, too casual to be genuine, “Have you had any success?”

“Success?”

“With your experiments,” Spy said, and Medic caught a knowing glint in his half-lidded eyes, “The reason you have been spending most nights in the laboratory, non?”

Medic huffed out a laugh. His heart felt full. “No,” he said, unable to stop himself from smiling, “Not quite.”

Pop, came a noise, and Spy looked down. Medic held up the box to the light, and the platinum ring glimmered giddily under the rays of sunset, casting shimmering reflections over its soft velvet cushion. The blue diamond shone like a miniature star set into the band—the same colour as Spy’s eyes.

Spy’s head snapped back up, and there was shock there as he searched Medic’s expression for any trace of deceit. Medic knew he wouldn’t find any even if he tried to make it up, as he sometimes did in his more paranoid moments—and indeed Spy seemed to realise this was not some overly complicated prank, because a sheen came over his eyes, and he seemed torn on whether to cry or laugh.

Medic gave his waist a reassuring squeeze. “Marry me,” he said, two words that for them meant a thousand things.

Spy choked out a little laugh and then shook his head as if in disbelief, and for a split moment Medic thought—

But then it was his turn to look on in shock as Spy reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box, revealing an exquisite rose gold ring set with swirling gemstones of a dark and rich red sitting prettily on a white silk cushion.

“There was a manufacturing issue, so it only arrived last week,” Spy said, voice choked up with emotion. Medic thought of how tired and stressed Spy had looked up until the previous week. “I was debating on a time and place, but I—I didn’t think—”

Medic surged forward and pulled him into a deep kiss, and their respective boxes dug into their ribcages as their bodies met in the middle.

“Hey guys, Engie says—what the fuck—”

They broke apart with a gasp, and Scout yelped as Spy shoved him back into the hallway and slammed the door in his face with enough force to make the building shudder. “I’m being proposed to!” he yelled indignantly, and Medic felt his cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling he was doing.

Spy swivelled back around, ring box still in his hand, and pulled Medic in by the collar of his shirt. “Ask me again,” he whispered against his lips. Medic could do nothing but laugh, and he kissed him one more time just to feel him smile.

“Marry me,” he said.

“Yes,” came the answer, and the sky bled colour behind them as the sun sunk beneath the line of the horizon, signalling the end of today and the dawn of another, brighter tomorrow.

[softquietsteadylove]

Baby olympia stole my hearth, their little family is soo cute 🥹, if it's okay with you love, could you do one where Thena is doing something with baby olympia like feeding her or dressing her (in a super cute outfit 'cause thena is a fashion icon) and Gil is watching them, falling more in love with his girls, feeling grateful that he came back to Thena and that their little her was born. Just Gil being soft for his girls. 🩷

Gil keeps an eye on them - his girls - in the corner of the room.

Thena calls it 'feeding', which it is in some ways. She sits in the rocking chair Phastos constructed for them, and she holds Olympia, and both of them enter a dreamlike state as Cosmic Energy slowly leaves Thena and is absorbed by their little supernova.

Their little miracle--Gil still can't believe it.

He can't even believe that he's alive, for starters. His last memory is of him on his back on the amazon forest floor, looking up at Thena (much to her dismay). But he remembers she was smiling until the moment he closed his eyes.

Next thing he knows, he's alive again, Sersi has saved the world, there's a Celestial sticking out of the ocean and he and Thena have catching up to do. And then Thena is pregnant.

No one saw it coming, of course. No one could have. They all thought of Ajak often during the process of it all, but they were on their own for it. Thank all the stars in the sky for Sersi, and Phastos. All their siblings, of course.

Druig and Sprite are most wary of the baby, no matter how they love her. Sprite excels at entertaining young Olympia, if nothing else. She does seem amused by Druig, as if his constantly reading her young mind has established a somewhat two-way connection.

Kingo says he doesn't like that, because he should be her favourite. He and Phastos argue on that often. But, although Makkari bouncing and jogging her (gently!) around the Domo is fun for them both, Sersi is of course Thena's chosen second mother for their child.

And there could be no better, he agrees. Sersi has always been the most human, and the most connected to the ways of the heart. She's sweet, and warm, and has an awareness of the soul that none of the rest of them possess.

Gil admits this freely; he has only one soul to which his is linked.

It's strange to think that his wife has now lived part of her life without him, and yet to him he has spent not even a day without her. But he can see how she's worn out by what she's endured. He wishes he could take it on for her; it's not fair.

Gil walks into their shared room. It's still just his personal quarters in the Domo--far from luxurious. Phastos did do them the kindness of engineering an expansion, just into the next room, but the extra space was still appreciated.

There is also a small crib for Olympia, mere steps away from the bed.

He chuckles, looking at the little mobile above it. It's a simple thing, but Thena did whittle and paint it herself. There are dinosaurs and pegasi and also regular birds. A whole history's worth of creatures.

They all guessed he would be the one who would be unable to bear being away from Olympia. And they are right, but it's Thena who has the most acute anxiety about it.

Only by his and Sersi's convincing did she allow them to install the crib at all. If it were up to Thena, she would be holding their child in her arms until the day she was Sprite's height.

Gil kneels down in front of his beautiful girls. Olympia is sleeping soundly, absorbing little dewdrops of Cosmic Energy from her mother like a meadow receives the rain. Sersi reasons that human children often need extra vitamins and nutrients besides in just their food; perhaps this is the same.

He brushes his fingers over his daughter's tiny head; she really does look like a tiny Thena, although he thinks her hair is getting a little darker just at the roots. He kisses her little forehead. She scrunches her face. "I'm sorry, my little sunburst."

"You're here."

He smiles up at his wife, her enchanting green eyes affixed to him. She looks even more stunning since bringing Olympia into the world. "I'm here."

It's become a kind of greeting for them. Thena will voice those words as if one day he won't affirm them. But he has no right to worry about that when it's very possible that she has experienced that in some form or another.

He leans up, capturing her lips against his tenderly.

Thena sighs as they part, her head tilting lazily as she relaxes that last little bit. Her eyes shine at him, "she's strong."

The connection between Warrior Eternal and her progeny is one that brings tears to his eyes. He moves the back of his knuckle against his daughter's cheek, "I know. Look who her mother is."

Thena lets him kiss her cheek with reverence. "To say nothing of her father. Two of the galaxy's deadliest--she will be a force to be reckoned with."

"She," Gilgamesh pats the soft of his palm against Olympia's head, "will never have to know battle, so long as we live."

"Yes," Thena sighs, letting herself believe his reassurance. She inhales, adjusting her arms, "here."

It's a simple thing, but it moves him that she trusts him so completely with their daughter. Of course she does, he is her father. But he knows Thena--knows the way she twitches and flinches and watches. She is made to be vigilant, after all, and even with their own family, she is always keenly aware of their daughter's whereabouts.

But with him, she hands her over. Thena has no question about his ability to prioritise and protect their child.

He makes room as she stands from the chair. She wobbles faintly and he moves so she can lean into his side. "Easy."

He isn't entirely sure what takes place during the 'feedings'. Because he also makes her regular old milk and feeds that to her. But Phastos and Druig alike cannot fathom what takes place between mother and child and their connection of energy.

Thena nuzzles her face into his shoulder.

"You're tired," he chuckles, holding their daughter in one arm and his wife in the other. "Nap with me."

Thena mumbles faintly. And while he doesn't hear it, he knows it's because she wants them to have Olympia in the bed in between them, instead of in the crib.

"We talked about this," he reminds her as he oh-so gently lays Olympia down on the little cot within the high walls. "You trust Sersi."

"Of course I trust Sersi," she grumbles, as if she is not grinding her teeth in her head to distract from her separation anxiety.

"She needs to learn to sleep on her own," he says gently, pulling Thena with him to the bed. "You can't hold her forever, sweetheart."

"We live forever."

He chuckles, careful not to be too loud with his little sunflower in the room. But he tucks some of Thena's hair away from her face and kisses the corner of her amazing lips. "As will she. And that's a long time for her to sleep in her own bedroom."

He can practically hear his wife's feelings about their infant daughter sleeping in a completely separate room. He presses his nose to the sculpted hollow of her cheek. "I will want you all to myself again someday, you know."

That makes her smile. She laughs faintly as he kisses her cheek and pulls them to lie down together. She settles into his chest, his arms wrapped around her, their daughter's tiny breaths reaching their inhuman ears. "You have your priorities I see."

"I do," he answers honestly, rubbing Thena's back and burying his nose in the hair at the top of her head. "It's my two girls, always. My new little star and the sun of my galaxy."

"Hm," Thena allows him to relish the contact with her. "I shall pretend that's sweet, instead of you being eager to bed me again."

"I can be a sweet and loving father, and also your husband, y'know."

[roobylavender]

considering what you have spoken about regarding selina do you also get frustrated with like…i cant quite explain it but sometimes especially in more recent years shes been posed or positioned like some sort of damsel that needs a big strong man to save her and like im not saying she should be portrayed with the “hollywood level feminism” for lack of a better term im just think about how old versions of selina would have hated that. like im just thinking of anytime in the reeves movie where bruce grabs her or forces her mouth shut or even when he didnt allow her to kill falcone and im just thinking she should claw the fuck out of him for that. i just miss a version of selina who wouldnt allow anyone to walk all over her personal autonomy like that

oh absolutely! in fact this is specifically why i can't stand loeb's take on her character lol (and as we both know that was a significant point of reference for the reeves film). it's really jarring to transition from her volume one and two canon to the long halloween / dark victory / when in rome. i think a lot of people tend to latch onto these books because tim sale's art is to die for and it's obv hard not to enjoy a good murder mystery. in that aspect they're still books i can enjoy in isolation. but i find it very difficult to enjoy them as a selina fan specifically because in every single one it's like she's looking for solace and security in a man and i'm not sure why. like what was so bad about her original backstory of having a deadbeat dad (whether you ascribe to the volume one or volume two version of him) and why did she need to go looking for her "real" father in carmine falcone. why did she need to seek out temporary boytoy relief in italy. why did she dream about being saved by bruce. none of it really has a reason other than to create a "lack" in her for the sake of it being there, because she'd never needed a man like that before in her post-crisis narrative. as you mentioned it was quite to the contrary and she was fiercely independent and protective of her own peace, esp from men. when she felt empty or without a connection or lifeline to someone real, it was mostly about people like maggie or holly or arizona. her people

what i think it ultimately comes down to are two things: the first thing is the diminishment of her post-crisis origins. after all, it's convenient to ignore how distrustful selina is of people, and of men with power at their leisure to abuse specifically, when her post-crisis origins are no longer relevant to her personal characterization. although selina's status as a sex worker is more prominent now, it was more or less completely swept under the rug for the bulk of volume two. loeb also refused to engage with it in any capacity. it only really resurfaced with the conclusion to volume two because it drew direct parallels to how we initially found her in volume one, and then brubaker expanded on it once again in his take on the character, which was notably juxtaposed against a pre-existing romance with bruce and brings me to the second thing. i've already waxed about this at length so this may very well be recap but i really don't think selina's lack of control over her personal autonomy can be divorced of the modern portrayal of the romance. when selina looking for security and understanding and comfort in bruce is what drives the romance forward there's not much room to maintain her original values and guarded demeanor, if not her outright defensiveness and hostility. a lot of people look at the extensive trauma selina has experienced and argue that she deserves to be in a relationship with someone who allows her to let those walls down. this isn't incorrect in theory. but it does repeatedly ignore who she is. it's kind of like the point i was making about bruce yesterday. exploring the inherently abusive nature of robin or of bruce's right to his children in light of that fact is interesting to do, but the actual execution has rarely managed to take into account who bruce actually is

for however nice it might be for selina to let her walls down romantically and look for solace in bruce—and i say this mostly for the sake of argument, personally i would argue against its necessity—it's realistically not something she's actually going to do. at least not as willfully as she's been portrayed to. realistically she's going to make it extremely hard, which if anything is precisely the appeal. i love it when selina gives bruce a hard time. i love that it's not supposed to be easy or maybe even a possibility for him to win her over bc there's so much about his own ideological stances that's flawed and in opposition to her own. she doesn't have to be any less unrelenting in her principles and worldview for that romance between them to be compelling bc at the end of the day the entire crux of it is that against all odds bruce cares. for however wrong he thinks she might be in a given moment or in her stance against the government, he knows who she is and how hard she's fought and what she's survived and it makes him sympathetic to her because she's real. she's a wonderful character through which to explore the logical limits of bruce's self-righteousness and categorization of crime, as well as a wonderful mirror to hold up to his face as he starts to ask himself whether what he's doing is really the only means of keeping the city safe. and the novelty of it all is that you don't have to sacrifice her character for any of that to be true. writers have simply deluded themselves into believing that they have to and that's why we are where we are today

[masked-and-doomed]

What if Conclave's true purpose was to be an appetiser to Ariels' main course of villainy

[anthromimicry]

forever thinking about how, according to maslow's hierarchy of needs (or simply the self-actualization pyramid) that is basically this motivational theory in psychology that's made up of a five-tier model of human needs, that misao went from being on the third tier in her childhood to reverting back to the first tier currently which is food, water, warmth, and rest.

[ here's a picture of it for reference, y'all ]

so, in other words... she is just trying to survive SO badly right now at this point in her life, that she can not even worry about things like safety or security and especially not friends. and that is UHH... i might, or might not be sobbing right now

[musical-chick-13]

I'm the LAST person to suggest that you have to preface every single comment you make about a character/fictional relationship/etc. you like with a reminder that you Know™ it's pRoBLeMaTiC, but I DO question what the point of acting genuinely for real like there were no problems is.

[mainfaggot]

tw eating disorder talk, pt.2 to the last post in the tags (once again, no mention of numbers that could be triggering, just a heartfelt rant bc I've been so afraid of talking about these things on here, but i really just need to get everything out bc . I feel crazy)

[levforfakes]

yessssss

i hate you "pair the spares"/"everyone must be paired" tropes, i hate you forced last minute romances, i hate you implication that a happy ending means a romantic partner, i hate you amatonormativity

[hangryyeena]

:)

[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.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Easing Old Man!Price into sex after dealing with erectile dysfunction 💓 (🌽 link)

As Price gets old with every passing day, a subtle yet gnawing voice at the of his head was telling him that he wasn't able to keep his birdie happy and satisfied despite all his efforts and it didn't help that physically he was not able to perform satisfactorily. He mentally curses himself for all the years of nicotine and alcohol use, mentally chiding himself for not listening to you earlier.

His little birdie would eventually leave him for his flaws.

But you saw it in a different light, you tried to keep John happy and fulfilled and besides there is more than one way to achieve the orgasmic bliss that John always seemed to coax out of you with either his hands or mouth or maybe both, one of his many talents. Your love for him never dwindled but you could see the sadness and unfound guilt in his eyes.

One day, he tells you that he wants to use Viagra to make sex as pleasurable as it used to be. Despite your attempts to voice that you have no complaints about the two of your sex life, John shut them down. He needed to do this, not just for you but for him, to make him feel like a man again. You start to understand that maybe reassurance may not be enough to help John find his self-esteem again so you cave and tell him it's fine.

Tonight, you both find yourselves sitting on the bed after John had taken the pill. Sweaty and flushed til the tips of his ears, John felt like a schoolboy seeing a woman naked for the first time. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, what to say or how to react after seeing his chubby cock stand tall and proud after such a long time. He looks away when you sit next to him, wearing nothing causing you to chuckle chuckle at his nervousness.

“Come on, babe. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen my tits. Hell, you even drank my-”

John places a hand over your mouth stopping you from finishing your sentence. You give the palm of his hand a attentive kiss before pulling away and placing a fleeting kiss oh his cheek.

You hand makes its way to his cock, giving it a few trial pumps. Seeing John’s eyes glaze over gave you all the permission you needed to continue your ministrations.

“That’s it, soldier boy. Let your birdie help you.”

[onrainynights]

something really interesting is that since I've started learning programming, I've begun to look at video games differently. I still enjoy them, and they're still a huge passion of mine. I still watch other people play games. but now, I find myself analyzing games beyond artistic merit or how fun they are. now I look at a game mechanic and try to figure out how it was made, how I would recreate it or if I *could* recreate it with what I've learned so far/the game engine I've been using. I don't intend to copy these games, it's just a thought exercise that I can't seem to help but engage in. it's like my brain is rewiring slowly and there's nothing I can do to stop it except give up learning. honestly, I love it. I feel like I'm learning a useful skill for the first time since I started composing music (which is, coincidentally, something that will be useful for game development) in 2021. before that, the last time I felt this way was when I was conversational in Japanese in early 2020 (which sadly I did not keep up with studying after lockdown) I'm starting to feel like I could turn this little hobby into a career with a hundred more hours of practice and a little bit of luck. and that's more than I can say for anything else in my life, so really I guess I'm lucky that youtube last month decided to recommend me the video that eventually led me to finally, after years of wishing I could, just sit down and start learning how to make games. anyway this is a long post and I don't think anyone will ever read it. the point is I forgot how incredible it feels to learn, really learn something I *want* to learn without the pressure of a deadline or a grade, to learn for the sake of learning and developing a new skill, and I wonder if this is what people who get phds instead of dropping out of college feel like