#so stuff it

One moment you're racing through the backwoods behind the Macmillan estate, fighting not to look back because no matter how fast you run, he will be right behind you. In the next- you're yanked behind a thick tree, your shoulder blades digging into the rough bark and one strong hand digging into your arm.

You look up to see Jeffrey, and your mouth falls open in either an attempt to ask a question or a silent cry, but he holds a finger up in front of his mouth before you can find out. The message is so clear in his dark eyes, that are so uncharacteristically serious, you almost hear his guttural voice telling you- be quiet.

Nodding slowly, with wide eyes, you do as told. But you're still terrified, and in shock, and confused. How can he even be here? There's no way the entity would allow this; Jeffrey is interfering with another killer. For you.

And what happens if Michael finds you now?? What could be Jeffrey's plan?? Surely his presence will only make it worse. Would they fight? You've never seen a killer fight another killer, but the thought makes you shudder. The Clown is filthy, mean, and vile. But the Shape is relentless.

And... Jeffrey already doesnt looks so good, you realise; your lips parting again in surprise and... worry. He looks so serious, so mad. And at this proximity, Jeffrey's strong hand still tight around your arm and your body tucked away between the tree at your back and his thick belly pressing into your front, you can see very clearly the cuts and scratches all over his face and body. He's not looking at you, he's listening out carefully for Michael, his mouth pulled taught in displeasure, but he doesnt need to be looking back for you to draw your own conclusions. He'd already been fighting before this. But who??-

... the Entity, you think; horror hitting you with the realisation.

You want to ask him questions, but just then- the Shape reaches your tree. He's just behind; you can hear him. And you freeze.

Only your eyes move, safe and silent in their sockets, and they wander up to Jeffrey's face, looking vigilante as he waits to see what'll happen. You can see the cogs working in his brain; calculative. Will he need his knife? Will he need his bottles? What kinda drugs will work on this guy? Something about him makes you feel safe; this huge disgusting man who used to terrify you so bad you would shake and cry when he just looked at you. But a lot of things had changed since then. You weren't scared of him, anymore. Not since he stopped wanting you to be, changed tact and made you like him. With his bad jokes, his harsh asthmatic laughter and his soft belly.

... When Michael, thankfully, heard something you didn't and walked off in another direction you immediately release a deep relieved breath. "... thank god- "

Before you can move and slip away from Jeffrey, his eyes snap back down to you and he cups your jaw harshly in his gloved hand; drawing your face upwards to look at him. The stench of alcohol off his breath burns your nose hairs, but you're learning to live with it. You're also learning to live with the stains in his gloves, the same ones that are on his old boxers.

"... Yer comin home with me." He tells you steadily. His guttural, husky, drug-damaged voice straining to speak at a low register.

Slowly, you give a cautious nod. "... okay."

"... cant havya outta my sight anymore."

Just the thought of staying with him in his dirty, cozy caravan, never going back to the camp or doing another trial, makes you feel weak with relief and happiness- but its just not possible. You give a sigh. Squeeze your eyes closed. "... we cant- The entity- "

"Leave that t' me." Suddenly you remember all the cuts and scratches on him, open your eyes to see him again, roughed up and pissed off, and believe him. When you don't respond, lost in your thoughts about how exactly Jeffrey has pulled this off - what he had to do, what deal he had to make, - , he gives a hoarse chuckle, thick with phlegm and wickedness. He gives your jaw a mean squeeze, stealing your attention back. "Heh. Well, doll?? Come back t' me. Whadaya say?"

"... how."

“Have courage and be kind” is the “worst possible message,” is it? Encouraging kindness and empathy is a bad idea?! (The author goes after the old chestnut of saying Ella is a “doormat,” which just makes no damn sense to me. She shows extreme inner strength. It’s not easy to stay as sweet and positive and optimistic as Ella does. I try frequently and just end up feeling anxious and hopeless. I won’t rant about it again here, but what exactly was she supposed to do? How, exactly, was she supposed to escape? Also, the movie makes it very clear why she chose to stay--not that she had that many other options--which was loyalty to the memories of her parents, since she was, you know, living in her own goddamn childhood home.)

This world needs more kindness. It needs everyone to try their damndest to be kind every day. Look at what we’re up against. 

Cinderella is also not touting quiet suffering, kindness, and selflessness as the “feminine ideal,” that I can see, but as a human ideal we should all strive for. Ella shares her worldview emphatically with Kit, and her prince comes to share it, because it’s a good fucking idea.

You don’t have to enjoy the movie, but don’t nitpick and tear it down because the fairy tale it’s adapting on isn’t progressive enough for you.