#dream is trying his fucking best

[gourmet-trash]

As others have pointed out, I too reject "token straight friend Rose Walker" and instead give you "bad taste in women Rose Walker"

The first time it happens, Hob doesn't say anything. He doesn't even acknowledge, outwardly, that he noticed it at all. Between the Inn and his teaching job and, oh you know, just several hundreds of years of being around children and young adults, he can confidently say he has at least some modicum of knowledge on how to interact with them.

So, the first time, he doesn't say anything. He's cool like that.

He also doesn't say anything the second time.

But the third time he watches Rose Walker making figurative heart eyes at Johanna Constantine, of all people, he can't help himself. He also can't really pretend he doesn't see Rose so busy gawking that she misses the rim of her glass and splashes cider onto her jumper. She's sitting right in front of him at the bar, after all.

"Doing all right there?" he teases, passing a few napkins across the bar.

Rose grabs the proffered napkins quickly, visibly flustered while she dabs at the damp spot on her chest. "Just, uh, clumsy, I guess."

Hob snorts softly. "Or distracted," he says, lifting his eyebrows when she jerks her head up.

"...I don't know what you're talking about!"

Hob makes a little "sure you don't" humming sound and picks Rose's glass up to wipe it down for her while she deals with her jumper. "It's cute," he insists, even though he knows from experience that most young adults don't like to hear it. And judging from the face Rose makes, she's no exception.

It almost makes Hob laugh -- Dream makes a very similar expression when someone tells him he's cute.

For Rose's sake, he swallows down that particular amusement and sets the cider back in front of her. "It is! But you might want to work on being a smidge less obvious with the staring."

Rose clears her throat, passing the damp napkins back across the bar when he motions for them. "...It's that obvious?" she asks slowly.

"Little bit, I'm afraid," he says, smiling apologetically.

Rose groans at that and drops her face into her hands. Hob only just makes out the muffled, "Do you think she noticed?" that follows.

Hob glances to the corner of the Inn where Jo has roped some sorry sap into a game of darts. It's not going well for the lad if the jeering of his friends is anything to go by. "Mmm...she's a little distracted, so probably not this time."

"This time?!" Rose repeats, lifting her head out of her hands to balk at him.

"You've been very obvious about it, poppet."

"And you didn't tell me!? I can't ever come back here!" Rose hisses.

Hob bites back his amusement -- poorly, judging by Rose's narrow expression. "I promise it isn't that big of a deal."

"What is not that big of a deal?"

The next few seconds are spent by Hob and Rose startling, someone bumping the glass between them in the process, and then both of them frantically trying to catch said glass before it spills more cider over the bar. When the glass is upright again and they turn accusatory stares on the King of Dreams, sitting at the previously empty barstool at Rose's side, his expression is nonplussed if not vaguely amused.

"You know, one of these days you're actually going to give me a heart attack or something. And then you're gonna have to explain to Auntie Death why she's here," Rose points out.

"I will take that under advisement," Dream drawls, more obviously amused by then. And when Hob leans over the bar, he obligingly tips his head a bit to accept the kiss dropped against his temple.

"Hello, love. Please don't give any of my patrons heart attacks at the bar."

"I will endeavor not to," Dream assures him. But the scuffle over the cider has not distracted him, and he repeats, "What is not that big of a deal?"

"Nothing!' Rose says quickly -- too quickly -- before Hob has a chance to deflect with a bit more tact. "Hence, not a big deal," she adds, snatching the glass off the bar and taking a long drink.

Dream watches her for a moment, no doubt taking stock of the damp spot on her jumper and the blustering, before turning to Hob, expectant.

But Hob has not been a snitch for many, many years, and he is not looking to revive that particular character trait this century. He flashes Dream a smile and leans back from the bar, already grabbing a cocktail glass. "How about we try a French 75 today?"

Dream purses his lips, though Hob suspects it has more to do with his question being very obviously ignored and less to do with their ongoing game of "make Dream try a new cocktail every time he comes in until Hob finds one he actually likes."

"Hob." 

He hums to acknowledge he heard him, considering the gin he has on hand.

"What are you not telling me?"

Hob grabs one of the bottles. "That I don't think you're going to like the French 75."

He turns his back to fetch the champagne and to hide a grin when he hears an annoyed little huff from the other side of the bar. Dream would deny huffing, of course, so undignified. But he huffed. He was huffy.

"Rose Walker."

"No," Rose says shortly, setting her nearly empty glass back down. "Look, no offense Uncle Morpheus, but it's seriously not a big deal, and it's also not something I wanna talk about. Okay?"

It is not, apparently, okay. Hob can tell the second he turns back around, spots the telltale sheen of emotion in Dream's eyes. Rose probably did too, which is why she's very pointedly looking down at the last of her cider rather than at her Uncle. Because they have come a long way since the rocky start of their relationship, but Hob knows better than most how fiercely Dream wants to nurture this relationship with his niece and nephew, almost despite himself. 

And bless him, but jumping straight into teenagers and young adults, nevermind the complications of a crush, is a tall order for anyone, much less the anthropomorphic personification of dreams. He definitely hasn’t had as much hands on time with young humans as Hob. Or if he has, he’s…rusty, to say the least. 

"You were comfortable to discuss these things with Hob, but not with me?"

Rose groans outright and turns on her stool, however reluctantly, to face Lord Shaper. "No, actually, I didn't want to be talking about it with Professor Gadling, either. So if we could all stop talking about it and pretend this never happened, that would be great!" she said, shooting a pointed frown in Hob's direction for good measure.

He holds his hands up in as placating a gesture as he can manage with a lemon twist between his fingers, and Dream glances between them for a moment before, with obvious reluctance, inclining his head.

"Very well," he says. "It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

"Thank you," Rose says, less terse, and Hob sets another cider in front of her at the same time he passes Dream the French 75. Dream eyes the cocktail with no small amount of distrust and Hob can’t help but laugh.

"Oh, come on, don't make that face before you've even tried it."

"Yeah, they're not bad. If you don't like it, we can switch," Rose offers, and while Dream does not look anymore convinced that he'll enjoy the beverage, or that he'd prefer Rose's cider, Hob can tell some of his proverbial feathers (well, currently proverbial, but sometimes more literal?) have settled. 

Heaven help him, but he does so adore this impossible, mercurial creature.

At their encouragement, Dream does eventually take a sip of the cocktail. And while his reaction is not quite as strong as it had been to the martini from last week or the Alabama slammer which, admittedly, Hob had only made as a means of getting Dream to say Alabama slammer, he is clearly not impressed.

"What do you think?" Rose asks, amused.

"It is...palatable," Dream says after a moment, and Rose laughs when he lifts it for another reluctant sip.

"Don't drink it if you don't like it!" she protests, waving for him to put the glass back down, which Dream does with something not unlike relief.

"Starting to think gin might not be your thing," Hob says, glancing over when the bell over the door jingles. He smiles and waves a hand that way. "See? Cor can use the door."

"Didn't you say he broke into your apartment through a window last month?" Rose asks, smirking when Hob shushes her.

But, by that point, Corinthian is close enough to hear. And to reach around Dream to pluck the French 75 off the bar. "And guess who finally got the damn locks on his windows repaired after that?"

"That is not a good reason for breaking into my flat!" Hob protests.

"It's a perfect reason for breaking in! I could've stabbed you in your sleep!" Corinthian argues.

"You have stabbed me in my sleep!"

Corinthian chuckles over the cocktail, half draped against Dream's side, who shifts subtle to make room for him there. "I have done that," he agrees.

"You've what?" Dream says, turning a frown on Corinthian who waves a dismissive hand.

"Metaphorically," he lies, before sidestepping out of the conversation by leaning around Dream again to flash a smile down the bar. "Well, hey there, Rosebud."

Rose, whose attention had drifted back in the direction of the darts game -- new bloke trying his hand now and losing just as spectacularly -- turns quickly back around. "Hey! Where's Jed?"

"Dropped him off at the movies with a couple friends."

Rose frowns. "...What movie?"

"One that I'm certain Jed and his friends were able to buy tickets to themselves, of course," Corinthian says breezily. Rose narrows her eyes a little further.

"If Jed has nightmares all week, it's gonna be your fault."

Corinthian makes a little noise of disagreement over his drink, and Hob starts wiping down the bar to keep himself useful while they bicker. And to avoid letting Dream pull him into any further interrogation about the whole stabbing thing.

"Technically, that would be My Lord's fault, wouldn't it?" Corinthian says, motioning at Dream between them, whose suspicious expression has not wavered.

Rose rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean!"

"Uh huh. Didn't know you were so into darts, Rose."

Hob pauses his cleaning to glance up between them, Rose visibly flustered and Corinthian's eyebrows lifted high above his sunglasses while he sips Dream's drink.

"What?" Rose eventually says, and Hob doesn't wince but it's a near miss. Poor thing, she's usually better toe to toe with Cor in one of his more meddling moods.

"You know what I mean," he drawls, and Rose snatches her cider up to chug. Again.

Rose knows what he means. And Hob knows what he means, even if he's not entirely sure how Corinthian himself knows. But Dream, sitting between the three of them, clearly does not, and he misunderstands rather wildly.

"Would you care to play darts, Rose Walker?" 

"That's a great idea!" Corinthian insists while Rose coughs around her drink. "That gal in the corner seems like she's pretty good, I bet she could talk you through the rules."

And then Dream turns his head and his attention alights on the darts game already happening. "Johanna Constantine is here?" he asks, looking back to Hob for confirmation.

"She's a regular these days, yeah," Hob says, and he'd argue that Dream doesn't stand from the stool so much as he pours himself from it, too liquid in his movements for the human shape he wears.

"Then I shall have to introduce you, Rose," he insists, and Rose only manages a token, squeaked protest before Dream is ushering her towards the darts game.

Hob swats Corinthian with the towel he'd been wiping the counter with. "That wasn't necessary," he points out, trying very hard to tap down on his own amusement.

"Sure it was! This way Dream can figure it out himself, and then he can be the one to tell her there's no way in hell we're gonna approve her trying to date Johanna fucking Constantine."

Hob laughs despite himself and leans against the bar, smiling when Corinthian takes up Dream's abandoned stool to meet him halfway. "She is a grown woman, you know. We can't stop her from trying to date who she likes."

"We can sure as hell try."

"We can do that," he agrees, leaning in to return the quick, sharp kiss Corinthian dips in for. "Does he know how to play darts?" Hob asks, glancing towards the corner when Corinthian leans back.

"I have absolutely no idea." [ ← prev ] [ next → ]

[anendoandfriendo]

"Fuck your online discourse" actually, no, we do think the halloween DID flag shouldn't be used but it's not because of some bullshit like "waah it's just a recolor" it's because the system that created that flag is a huge fucking racist and ableist last we checked, and we never saw ant kind of apology for being racist and ableist to endogenic systems. We never saw them stop being anti-endogenic or anti-Black (because let's be honest, Black endogenic systems specifically would be the ones most affected and hurt by this).

Like, we know people have forgotten by now, but we were THERE just before TPA became a thing, when systems like The Entropy System were fully mask-off in their bigotry (we call anti-endogenics facsists because of the personal experience of having the not-pleasure of seeing shit like the above link lmao), and such other things. We used to be very visible on Twitter as an endogenic system who's seen this shit but it was kind of taking over 99% of our focus when we were working retail instead of working at home, so we ended up tapering it away.

[staticpoison]

I'm finally fighting Cazador for the first time. FUCK this guy how the FUCK do I kill this little bitch 😤 I'm just trying to play my little dating sim game I'm too shitty at video games for this

[fieryvoid-scout]

I love the dark urge in bg3, it makes the story so much more interesting. Like regardless on if you play it evil or fight it, it adds so much more depth bc while ur companions have their shit to figure out you have your own equally (if not more) as fucked up baggage (while still having a custom appearance/class).

[espectres]

Shou is what you get when the shounen protag doesn't get a good mentor. or a mentor at all

[carcarrot]

fettuccine carbonara from micelis save me...... save me fettuccine carbonara from micelis

[theflyingfeeling]

32 paired with 6 for the spring prompts with Olli/Joonas? 🥺👉👈💕

I could have picked the entire list ngl these prompts are all so cute?? ;-;

By now spring has turned into summer and so have the "spring" prompts, I hope you don't mind though! 😁 btw this is NOT the version I originally started writing for this prompt (became frustrated and anxious about the length of that one; maybe one day I'll finish it and you'll get to read it!), instead I'm giving you a glimpse of the AU for which I got inspiration from Dublin 🙊 (a bit of deets in the tags, but beware spoilers!). Maybe after posting this I can eventually push myself to write the whole AU 😅

Thank you so much everyone who sent in their spring prompt requests! Now on to the domestic prompts (finally!) 💕

You can find all the spring fluff in this tag on my blog 🌷

32. Farmer’s market AU: I keep buying your stuff and flirting with you

+

06. Gardener and rich person AU (1986 words)

~

There was a vase filled with roses on the bedside table that Joonas could not remember seeing there when he had gone to bed the night before. They were the kind he loved the most, out of all the different varieties of roses in the garden: dark red, almost black, with thorns that would definitely grate your skin to bloody scrapes if you weren’t careful enough (and Joonas was, ever since he fell into the bush when he was six years old).

Joonas stretched his long limbs but couldn’t quite make himself get out of bed just yet, even though he knew his half-brother would soon storm in and yank the velvet curtains on his window open. Joonas’ only hope was that Joel would be too sleep-deprived to care about him after having been wandering about the cemetery half the night again. 

(It seemed Joel thought Joonas wouldn’t hear his quiet steps echoing in the hallway in the dead of night, and Joonas felt too sorry for the man to bring up the topic himself.)

Eventually Joonas grew bored of wasting the morning in bed and set his bare feet on the soft rug by his bed. He yawned and flexed his arms above his head once more before he stood up and walked over to the window.

Pulling the curtains aside he couldn’t see much for a while, the sunbeams blinding his vision momentarily. Once his eyes had adjusted to the sudden light, he let his eyes wander on the yard that opened before him. From the fourth floor he had quite the view that reached to the farthest corners of the estate, but soon enough his eyes fixed on a small figure by the rose bushes.

A slow smile formed on Joonas lips as he observed the gardener focused on his work, occasionally stopping to wipe sweat off his forehead. Joonas could imagine the gardener’s curls sticking onto his temples and a layer of sweat glistening on his skin, perhaps even on his chest that would peek out from the collar of the gardener’s shirt.

Joonas picked one of the roses to bring it close to his nose. The smell reminded him of a particularly tropical night two days ago, when the temperature inside his chambers had rosen close to the nearly 30 degrees it had been all afternoon, and not only because of the heatwave they were currently experiencing.

He grinned and set the flower on the table while he found a white linen shirt to wear. Then he took the rose with him as he strolled across the room, stopping to grab one of his favourite hats from the rack by the door and headed to the stairway.

~

Joonas made sure to make his arrival heard by the gardener so as not to startle him; it wouldn’t have been the first time the poor man would have dropped his pruning shears upon Joonas greeting him unannounced.

“Hi there,” Joonas said softly once the gardener had lifted his gaze from the roses in front of him.

“Good morning, my lord.”

“Olli,” Joonas frowned, “have I not told you to call me by my name? You know my father’s not here to scold you about it anymore.”

Since he’s been pushing up daisies for four weeks now.

“An old habit,” Olli pursed his lips. “Besides, the butler would not approve if I failed to address you accordingly.”

Joonas turned to look around himself exaggeratingly.

“Is dear old Santeri hiding somewhere in the bushes spying on us?”

“Shhhh, he might!” Olli giggled, with a melody more gay and clear than that of the robin’s song.

“Always knew he’s a little deviant,” Joonas said, just to make Olli laugh a little louder. Joonas bit his lip as Olli’s amusement revealed the gap between his front teeth, just another feature Joonas had always loved about this young man he had known since they were boys and Olli’s mother had been hired as the gardener to look after the perennials Joonas’ own mother had planted a long time ago. 

Eventually their laughter died and the garden fell quiet again, as quiet as it can on a summer afternoon with the birds tweeting above their heads and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding the estate.

“Well. I shall not distract you more than this,” Joonas sighed, a smile still lingering on his mouth. Then he took a few steps closer to Olli, took his own felt hat off his head and dropped it on top of Olli’s. “Don’t overwork yourself, love,” he winked.

He was already walking away when Olli’s voice called for him.

“Joonas?”

Joonas stopped and turned in the middle of the lawn, waiting for the gardener to go on.

“There’s, umm…a farmer’s market today. In town.”

“There is?” Joonas asked, as if he hadn’t noticed the advertisement falling out of Olli’s pocket the other night.

“And I will, of course, see to my work here in the garden first and foremost, but… I’ve been growing a little something of my own. In the servants’ yard.”

“Are we not paying you enough?” Joonas asked and immediately wanted to bite off his tongue; just last week he had discovered crumpled paperwork in his father’s drawer, a document of the staff’s wages being cut to barely above the minimum since the beginning of the new season. He doubted it was the only one of such measures in the past few years his old man had done in an effort to save the business his own father had once been so proud of.

“No, no, it’s not like that at all!” Olli hurried to correct him, a hint of panic in his eyes. “It’s just…nothing more but a stupid hobby. I’m sorry, my lord, forget about it.”

Olli’s eyes were directed to his shoes now, and Joonas already missed their dark shade. 

Slowly he walked back to Olli and stopped to almost touch the tips of his leather shoes to Olli’s beaten-up ones, covered with brown and green stains from soil and grass. He caressed the smooth skin of Olli’s jaw with his fingertips to make the gardener look him in the eyes.

“Of course you’ll go, Olli. And you’ll sell each and every little vine and herb you’ve grown.”

Joonas himself would make sure of that.

~

“You see that curly-headed man over there?” Joonas whispered to a little girl and pointed towards Olli, tending to his seedlings nervously in his selling booth. “I want you to go and buy anything you want from him with these.” Then he pressed a few coins to the girl's small palm.

“Can I buy the pretty daisies and give them to mommy?” the girl asked with her eyes wide and glistening.

“Why don’t you buy them all and take some to granny as well?” Joonas smiled and slid a few more coins to the girl before sending her off.

He retreated behind a stand selling fresh bread and pies to watch how the girl skipped to Olli’s flower stall and pointed at the basket of pink, yellow and red flowers. When Olli picked up a few of them, the girl shook her head and handed him the money Joonas had given her. The surprise on Olli’s face was evident from how his mouth hung upen and how his eyes blinked a few times before he took the basket, tied a big pink ribbon on it and reached over the table to give it to the girl. Olli’s joyous smile was a mirror of the girls’ as she curtsied to the gardener and pranced along, possibly already picturing her mother’s delighted face upon seeing the basket and its contents.

Joonas observed Olli in his dumbfounded state before sauntering to his stall. Up close, Olli’s eyes gleamed even more brightly than Joonas had been able to see from his hideout.

“So! How’s business?” he asked casually and put his hands in his pocket where more coins waited to be wasted on pretty little flowers and whatever the dark green weeds next to them were.

“I am astounded, my lord.” Joonas winced at the title, but then he remembered they were in public, and even if the people of the town wouldn’t recognise Olli as one of his employees, they sure would frown upon a seemingly mere commoner calling the fresh owner of the Paradise Hotel by his first name.

“That so?”

“Earlier I sold a bunch of roses to a young man who wanted to surprise his sweetheart, and just now little Julia came and wanted to buy a whole basket of gerberas. This is beyond my wildest dreams!” Olli sighed and massaged his cheeks, perhaps to try and hide his excited blush but only ending up making his face even redder.

“I’m pleased to hear that, old friend,” Joonas said and made a mental note to thank the tavern keeper's son later for helping Joonas with his plan. “But I’m not surprised. These beautiful blossoms deserve every bit of recognition they get.”

“These are but shrubs…” Olli mumbled, smiling bashfully at the flowers.

“I mean it, Olli. You should hear how the guests at the hotel keep wondering about the garden at dinner. Some of them I’ve had to bribe out of offering you a job at theirs.”

Olli chuckled and shook his head.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true, every word!” Joonas argued, because it was; the famous rose garden was one of the main attractions of the whole estate, and on more than one occasion a guest had asked to meet the creator of such wonders. Quite selfishly Joonas had deprived them of the honour, however, as he hated those times when he spotted a vacationer having wandered to the garden and engaged Olli in a relaxed conversation. Joonas wasn’t a jealous type, per se, but he did intend to be the only one to make Olli’s bright laughter chime in the evening air, preferably inside his bedroom if he could help it. 

Olli shook his head again and opened his mouth to say something, but then Joonas saw his eyes move on to someone beside Joonas. 

“How much for the begonias?”

Joonas retreated to the side and let the new customer – this time not one of his own minions – to haggle over the prices of the orange flowers and fiddled with the few coins left in the bottom of his trouser pocket. A moment later they said goodbyes, the woman with an armful of begonias, Olli with a handful of cash and a satisfied smile on his face.

“See? People are practically ripping the flowers out of your hands!”

An attractive shade of pink spreading to his cheeks, Olli put the money carefully in a small purse he kept in the front pocket of his apron.

“Are you here just to mouth off or are you gonna buy something too?” Olli said with his voice low. He looked up at Joonas from under his brows and batted his long, dark eyelashes, making Joonas want to go back to the hotel and empty their already half-empty safe and give it all to Olli in exchange for the colourful plants spread on the table between them.

“Funny you should mention,” Joonas fished a few coins from his pocket. “What might I get with five shillings?”

Olli burst into laughter.

“Just five? Nothing but weeds, I’m afraid.” But before Joonas could put the money back from where he took it, Olli gestured him to lean in closer.

The gardener brought his lips close to Joonas’ ear so that Joonas could feel his breathing on his skin. Shivers of pleasure went down Joonas’ spine when Olli whispered in his ear:

“But perhaps we can come to an agreement of payment at, let’s say, ten o’clock tonight?”

Joonas licked his own lips in anticipation before answering.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, gardener.”

[eldenringle]

My surgeon gave me medical grade honey to put on my problem nipple and the urge to lick the applicator after every dressing change is so so strong....

[earlyspringtranscendence]

btw i think one of the most impt hobbies in the world is having a mostly non-existent, mostly self indulgent crush on a professor/lecturer just to zone out to their classes to and focus instead on their hair and their hands and their dark circles speaking NAWT from experience. maybe a little bit.

[notme-rainbowfart]

I don't know. maybe because you'd sacrifice a hand for me. or maybe because I've crossed your line. Or I.....I like it when you're happy.

[gottagobackintime]

Me after tonight’s episode of 9-1-1:

[firefly464]

“Goodbye mr president”

Ahahaha wanna see how hard I can cry?

[mishkakagehishka]

Why do i always dream the most ridiculous shit when i take naps

[system-error404-notfound]

Why do I have to wake up and almost immediately have a panic attack?

[thecherrygod]

I just woke up from.. such a dream that. Was completely unnecessary.

[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.