#so stop calling it a remake

[livingdxadwriter]

I just watched the new crow. And guess what??? I fucking liked it. No spoilers here but it was NOTHING like the original. Not one bit was taken from the original and replicated. It was a completely different story. And guess what? I still love the original to pieces. I still love Brandon as Eric. But also guess what? I enjoyed how Bill made it his own. It didn’t feel like a copy. It felt like a different version, with a different story. And that’s okay. The original is still awesome and super iconic. But news flash, the new one isn’t shit just bc it’s called The Crow 2024. Maybe give reboots a chance before shitting on it. The original came out in 1990. That’s 34 fucking years ago. That’s a whole generation right there. Y’all act like reboots and remakes haven’t existed since the beginning of the film industry. Some are bad and a cash grab, and some are actually kinda cool and have its own thing going. I think this one has its own tone just like the original had its very distinct aesthetic and tone.

Yes I liked it. So what. If I didn’t I would say so. I went into it expecting nothing, if anything I expected to be trash and nonsensical, but no. Everything made sense, it had a pretty cohesive story and gave a different and darker (like metaphorically not literal, nothing can be darker than the original) telling of the story and Eric’s character. And that’s okay. Let’s just learn to watch and enjoy some movies without blindly hating on them just because it’s cool to.

[priceofreedom]

#Elmyra approving of Zack makes me so happy 😭 FF7 Rebirth 20 / ?

[akiirart]

Dude

[fruitsofhell]

whyg was sephiroth introduced 10 minutes into ff7r like that when in the original he was introduced through a genuine horror setpiece 10 hours into the narrative that still only left you with vague hints of his character and flowed perfectly into the insanity establishing flashback

why cant he be a cryptid anymore. squenix i swear he was sexier like this.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

I'm just... so done with fandom shipping as a whole. Y'all are the worst and need to take a chill pill.

[no-celebration]

Here, all the official canon mainline RE games:

Resident Evil Zero

Resident Evil (original and REmake)

Resident Evil 2 (original and remake)

Resident Evil 3 (original and remake)

Resident Evil: Code Veronica

Resident Evil 4 (original and remake)

Resident Evil: Biohazard

Resident Evil: Village

Eventually, we'll most likely get Zero and Code Veronica remakes, an RE1 re-remake, and RE9 (whatever they end up calling it).

oh so you’re evil? Name every resident.

[piknim]

She learns so fast. Two 5-10 minute training sessions and shes learning be calm already

[albonium]

travelling people idk what the correct word is in english that ins't g***y set up camp near my job and they've been pooping out in the wild on a parking lot you can literally see the poop and the toilet paper. they did the same thing previous years when they invaded the football stadium and kids couldn't have their football summer camp two years in a row 🤪

[flwrstqr]

[ .. ] DREAM ✶. WHEN THEY CALL YOU "WIFE"

𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗖 ᪲ 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆, 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀.

❪ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❫ '𝒏. ｡ boyfriend!enha & fem!rea 7OO ୨୧ fluff reaction imagines ✶ petnames skinship ◜ᯅ◝ 𝑙’ click

note. a remake of my old fic part like whatever.. but i hope you enjoy ! was fun remaking a fics >_< i promise i'll write more newer ones in the future

LEE HEESEUNG

you’re curled up on the couch with heeseung, his arm lazily draped over your shoulders, thumb absentmindedly tracing circles your skin under his hoodie—well, technically his hoodie, but you’ve claimed it. he leans in closer, as he whispers, “you’re so pretty, my wife.” you tilt your head with a teasing grin. “who’s wife? i don’t see a ring.” his eyes sparkle, lips tugging into that cocky smirk you know all too well as he murmurs, “yet.” the word slides off his tongue, and it sends butterflies straight to your stomach. you swat his chest with a laugh, but he just pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck. “mm, my baby’s shy,” he coos, “but you’ll look so good with my last name.” "heeseung!"

PARK JAY

jay’s sitting beside you on the bed, one arm casually slung around your waist, the other scrolling through his phone as he chats with his assistant on the call. “yeah, that one in beige—my wife loves neutral tones. oh, and add the matching wallet. she’s been eyeing that set for weeks.” you blink. once. twice. slowly turning your head toward him like did he just— “what did you just call me?” you whisper, stunned, your hand frozen mid-air with a chip halfway to your mouth. jay ends the call soon after, locking his phone before turning to you with a grin, his voice all warmth and silk. “wife,” he repeats, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you don’t like it?” you roll your eyes, “you can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to breathe, jay.”

SIM JAKE

you’re perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging as jake rummages through the cabinets for snacks, mumbling to himself until he finds your favorite. “got it—knew my wife would want this one,” he says so casually. you blink, head tilting. he turns around, already grinning like he knows what he did. you squint,  “okay then… thanks, husband.” his brain short-circuits. the bag of chips nearly slips from his hands as he stares at you, mouth slightly open, cheeks turning pink. “wait—say that again. no, actually, one more time. please.” he’s already walking back to you, standing between your legs, hands resting on your waist. “baby, say it again. call me that again. i’ll literally do anything—buy you a house, a puppy, a whole island.” you giggle, tugging him closer by the shirt. “relax, husband.” he melts. fully. game over.

PARK SUNGHOON

you’re leaning against the counter, sipping water while scrolling on your phone when sunghoon walks past, grabbing his keys and murmuring, “i’ll be back in ten, wife.” it’s so smooth, so casual, like he says it every day. your fingers freeze mid-scroll, blinking slowly like you didn’t just hear the man you’ve been secretly in love with drop that word. you try to play it cool, lips twitching as you mumble, “mm? what was that?” he glances over his shoulder, one brow raised, deadpan. “i said i’ll be back, wife.” your smile creeps in before you can stop it, trying to bite your lip to hide how dumbly happy you look. he sees it, of course—he always does—but just smirks as he leaves the door.  “lock the door behind me, babe,” he calls out, like he didn’t just casually claim your whole heart and future.

KIM SUNOO

you were rummaging through the kitchen cabinets when sunoo, curled up on the couch in his oversized hoodie, called out casually, “wife, can you grab the honey too?” and you froze. blinked. slowly turned around with wide eyes. “wait… what’d you just say?” he looked up, confused for a second, then grinned when he realized. “i said wife. what about it, baby?” your brain short-circuited instantly. wife?? wife?! he’s never called you that before. were you missing a proposal?? did he mean it?? was he teasing?? “why would you say that so casually like it’s not a whole wedding vow??” he laughed, arms wrapping around you, “because you feel like home already. and i like calling you mine.” and that was it. brain gone.

YANG JUNGWON

you were sitting on the floor, legs tangled with jungwon’s as you helped him fold laundry, when he mumbled, “thanks, my pretty wife,” while handing you a shirt. your hands froze mid-fold. wife? you whipped your head around, face already heating up. “wait.. did you just call me 'wife'?” you asked, wide-eyed. he blinked innocently before smirking, that dimple making an appearance. “i said wife. sounds right, doesn’t it?” you immediately buried your face in his chest, groaning, “stoppp, why would you say that so casually?” he chuckled, arms wrapping around you as you tried to hide your flustered state. “because you are gonna be my wife someday,” he whispered into your hair, making your heart explode. his voice was too soft, his smile too sweet—how were you supposed to survive this boy? you clutched his hoodie tighter, face still burning. god, you were so hopelessly in love with him.

NISHIMURA RIKI

you were half-listening as riki chatted with his friend, scrolling on your phone until you heard him say, “yeah, my wife likes that too.” and you froze. your head snapped around so fast. “your what now? who’s your wife??” you demanded, staring him down like he just confessed to having a whole secret family. he blinked at you, deadpan. “you. you idiot.” you gawked. “oh. oh.” he burst out laughing, tugging you into his side. “thought i had a side chick or something, huh?” he teased. “maybe i do… but she’s you." “you’re so stupid, riki,” you mumbled, burying your face in his hoodie. “but you like being called wife, huh?” he whispered, grinning. “shut up.” “wife.” “riki, i swear—” “wiiife.” lord, you were never living this down.

[whateveriwant]

Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

[seasidefallenangel]

gimme, gimme, gimme a man

calling bllk boys your husband while you're still dating ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

notes: fluff, banter, down bad loverboys, use of "wife" in sae's but gn other than that, part 2 here

༄ isagi: “... i’ll grab a chocolate shake, and my husband’s gonna get the vanilla.”

✣ freezes on the spot and stares at you with wide eyes. him? husband? you wanna marry him? he was hoping you were in the long haul the same way he was, but hearing those words from your mouth made him even giddier than he assumed he’d be. imagine when you two actually get married? he’ll be in the trenches.

⁀➷  “did you mean that?” he asks when the worker closes the window while you wait for your order. you can practically see the tail wagging behind him as he beams at you with those sparkling blue eyes. when you give a nod and a small smile, he has to stop himself from blowing up with excitement. instead, he kisses your forehead and murmurs, “i can’t wait to marry you one day.”

༄ nagi:

“oh, that copy in the corner! my husband’s been looking all over for it.”

✣ eternal soldier in the idgaf war. you can’t even tell if he heard you because his facial expression doesn’t budge in the slightest. he’s still tap-tapping away at his phone while the shop employee grabs the game case and hands it to you. it’s only once you’ve paid and left the store that he finally puts his phone down and rests his head on your shoulder from behind, staring up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes.

⁀➷ “‘husband’”? he asked softly, curious but not displeased. you nod sheepishly, admitting it just sort of came out before you had a chance to think. he hums softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and snuggling into your neck. cute as it is, you’re still very much in public, and he’s not exactly light. when you ask him to get off, his face shifts into a pout and he mumbles, “can’t believe i’m gonna marry someone so mean.” despite his attitude, this’ll be lingering on his mind for awhile.

༄ rin:

“excuse me? my husband wanted to kn-” “boyfriend.”

✣ is having absolutely none of it. he swears his blood pressure has gotten concerningly high since he started dating you and dealing with all your stupid pranks. it seems like he’s annoyed since he immediately interjected, but it’s more the opposite. he knows he wants to marry you, but do you really think he’s worth the trouble? looking that far into the future worries him, but he’d never let you know that. ⁀➷ a pair of lithe fingers squeezes your cheeks after rin pulls you away from the employee with a deadpan expression. he pulls at your cheeks with narrow eyes, asking you, “what the hell was that about? husband? are you stupid or something?” your lower lip juts out as you express to him that you really do want to marry him someday, and just wanted to hear how it sounded coming from your mouth. he knows you’re playing him as you try not to grin, but the confession is rather cute. he lets it slide with an “idiot” under his breath, and you decide not to mention the slight blush on his cheeks and the fact he has your hand in a vice grip as you walk out of the store.

༄ sae:

“oi. my wife asked for a medium. remake it.”

✣ beats you to the punch. he’s always one step ahead in every aspect of your relationship, but this is too much. how on earth did he know that you were gonna call him your husband to see his reaction? well - he didn’t. he just refers to you as his wife internally most of the time, and occasionally when he’s out buying gifts and tells the employee who he’s buying it for. after all, you’ll be his wife one day. might as well start early.

⁀➷ sae glances down at you, raising an eyebrow at your disgruntled expression. when you bemoan that he “stole your thunder,” he flicks you on the forehead before wrapping an arm around your waist. his lips brush against your ear, making you shiver while he speaks, “you do know that you being my wife also means i’m your husband, dumbass. does it matter who said what?” when you sputter and try to pull out the fact he hasn’t even proposed yet, he tugs you closer, looking irritated that you’d even bring up something so simple. it’s a cold day in hell before anyone else gets the chance, and he informs you as such, saying, “because none of the diamonds i’ve found are big enough,” leaving you speechless while he pretends like nothing happened. you’ll never win against him - ever.

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — sae itoshi: scene stealer (pt. 2) !

synopsis: in which you called itoshi sae overrated in an interview, and he responded in the language he knew best.

sae itoshi x reader ⭑ drabble / enemies to ??? + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

note: planned to leave it the way it is but i love you all too much

you had not planned on watching the clip again. but somehow, it kept finding you. in your group chat. on your for you page. pinned to the top of every sports account like it was the moon landing.

sae itoshi. 82nd minute. goal of the season. camera cut. eye contact. one word, mouthed slow enough to be personal.

"overrated?"

it was not a celebration but rather a reply. and the internet had eaten it alive.

user1: this is better than any sports anime plotline LOLLL

user2: y/n and sae's beef is the only thing keeping me alive

user 3: enemies to lovers speedrun???

your phone wouldn't stop and you considered throwing it out of the window. your pr team advised silence, your fans were calling it legendary and his fans were calling you every name under the sun.

somehow, you didn't post nor did you respond. you just kept watching the clip.

but then the met gala happened.

you weren't supposed to be going. you'd planned to skip this year- too much press, too many cameras, not enough sleep. but your designer begged, your stylist guilt-tripped you and somehow deep down, you knew you kind of didn't want to miss it.

⭑

so you went in a dress that didn't just turn heads but rewrote the whole room.

black silk, sharp neckline, backless. you looked like the kind of woman wrote headlines about. the kind who could ruin a boy's life with just a quote in a magazine. (spoiler: you were)

and the moment you stepped onto the carpet, the noise started. flashes, cheers, shouts of your name- it was chaos, controlled and curated chaos.

and then, through the chaos, you saw him.

sae itoshi, at the bar. dressed like a problem. black suit, no tie, hair slicked back like he didn't care what it did to people.

you froze for half a second, just long enough to feel it. that stupid, cinematic pull, like gravity had picked a side.

you could've walked away. maybe you should have but then he looked at you.

and smiled.

"didn't think this was your scene," you said, stopping just close enough to keep things interesting.

he raised an eyebrow. "didn't think i was your scene."

you gave him a once-over, unimpressed. "you're not."

he let that hang in the air. "but you're still watching."

you hated how he said it. calm and certain, like he already knew he was right.

before you could fire back, someone stepped in. a reporter, mic in hand, grinning like this was the best night of her life.

"y/n! sae! can we get a quick photo? you two look so good together."

you blinked. "we're not-"

"sure," sae said. the audacity??

and then his hand was on your back, light and just enough to feel expensive like he'd done this before. you smiled for the camera. you were an actress, you could do that.

"beautiful," the reporter gushed. "and sae, if you're so overrated, what would you call her?"

it was a trap and you knew it. he knew it. and still, you turned his head just slightly and waited.

he looked into the camera, and you felt every nerve in your body tighten like wire. then he shrugged.

"hermosa."

beautiful.

⭑

that clip went viral too, faster than the first one.

you went home with sore feet, a sore back and half the internet convinced you were either going to kiss sae itoshi or kill him. maybe both?

you didn't check your messages. but at 02:03 a.m., your phone lit up with a dm.

⭑

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[doubletroubletag]

New update for Tag In/Tag Out: Double Trouble!

I had to remake the blog because linking to Comicfury got the old one shadow banned.(Best read on Comicfury, check pinned post)

I'm back to updating for April, at least!

transcript under the readmore:

[Comic ID:

[Page 1] Loop swings their legs, hugging their arms to shiver. Loop: [Hurry, it's cold!] They look towards Siffrin, pouting. They're too busy scrubbing to notice.

[Page 2] Loop stares in shock, making a realization. They look forward, hugging their arms in a less comical manner. Loop, gently: [These are the only clothes I have.]

[Page 3] Siffrin is frustrated. Siffrin: (Then you should take better care of what you have.) Loop looks at Siffrin in disbelief. Loop: [Actually, never mind! We're the same person, so what's yours is mine too!]

[Page 4] Siffrin grimaces. They shrug: (I guess??? Fine?) Loop smiles: [See, I knew you'd say that. Because I would have too.]

[Page 5] Siffrin and Loop are drawn chibi like, Loop is giddy. Loop, singing: [Which is why I must call dibs on our blanket~] Siffrin, offended: You can't do that?!

[Page 6] Loop gushes: [Then you should have called dibs first.] Siffrin leans forward, frowning: (That's stupid.) Loop: [I also call dibson our pajamas. They're mine now.] Siffrin stares in disbelief. They tug at their shirt: (But I'm wearing the pajamas?)

[Page 7] Loop smiles. Siffrin has a mild frown. Loop's smile scrunches up. Siffrin sweats: Loop? Loop tackles Siffrin, jumping over him. Siffrin: LOOP?! Loop: Mine now! Siffrin stops Loop from pulling up his shirt. Siffrin: Hey, now! I'm wearing it, right now! Loop, casual: But I called dibs~!

[Page 8] Loop begins to tickle at Siffrin's ribs, he laughs with tears in his eyes. Siffrin: Loop! Tickle?! NYA?!

Siffrin kicks his legs while Loop leans over the tree trunk to continue. Siffrin:WhAT ARE YOU DOING?! Stop! Loop: Gimmie! (x3) The two freeze up, noticing something off-screen.

[Page 10] The two are horrified. It's a tired Odile, standing disheveled and unsure. She runs a hand over her forehead: I'm too eepy for this shit. She turns away and leaves. Siffrin and Loop watch, still frozen in place.

[Page 11] Siffrin smiles through their nerves. Siffrin: (Do you think she saw us?) Loop turns away, grimacing: I would think so~! Loop: She's going to tell everyone and I'll never have a chance to eat breakfast again! Siffrin: (Calm down. I'm going to try to talk it out.)

[Page 12] Siffrin chases after Odile: (Odile! Hey! Wait!) She enters her tent, Siffrin follows. They pause. Odile is lying in bed, already asleep.

id end.]

[jordiemeow]

summary: when anakin gets denied the rank of master, he's overwrought with tension. no better way to deal with it than sneaking out to visit his favourite girl at his favourite brothel on the lower levels of coruscant.

warnings: smut 18+, face-sitting, mild sub!anakin, reader is a prostitute, brief comfort ending in f!receiving oral, anakin is a giver!! cathartic head-giving

notes: in honour of may the fourth! need to remake my taglist for specific fandoms so not tagging anyone here. not my usual audience so if this flops idc but anakin has been on my mind a lot recently (when is he not). anyways happy star wars day :)

"It's... it's a joke, is what it is. And he didn't stick up for me. Not once. What an excuse for a mentor if he's just going to—"

You're not listening at this point. Head tilted, lips slick with red paint, body on display. It's a shame the sheer two-piece is going to waste on a Jedi rambling on about how betrayed he feels by the Order. It's also terribly hard to listen to said 'betrayal' when his robes and tunic have been shrugged off to leave him in just his pants, defined muscles rippling under the dim light of your private room.

Something about feeling too restricted. You'd laughed and said the removal of clothes was pretty typical in this establishment, but your attempts at levity proved futile. Fast forward to now...

"—And don't even get me started on Master Windu." (You weren't going to.) "How can he look me in the eyes and tell me that? Like I don't deserve it for all the work I've done for them. Risked my lives countless times. Saved millions—no, dare I say billions—and this is the thanks I get!"

Billions? You aren't so sure about that. You keep the comment to yourself—maybe he's right. You don't ask him for information; it's always willingly passed on. He could be the most decorated Jedi in the Order after this war and you would be none the wiser.

He paces back and forth restlessly, hands tightened into fits and jaw taut with tension. You'd almost be a little frightened if most of your visits from him didn't start with some sort of temper tantrum. All this just for you to soothe him into bed and make him forget.

"Ridiculous," he spits as you watch on plaintively. It's like spectating a meltdown, you can't help but think. You're surprised he hasn't thrown something yet. Destruction is always a symptom of his annoyance. You wonder briefly if his room back at the Temple is in disarray. "And then Obi-Wan has the audacity to ask me to—"

You cross the room to reach him just in time to stop him from saying something he absolutely should not be telling a prostitute. You know half the Jedi Order's secrets by now from his visits. A hand rests upon his left arm, the one made of human flesh. Gentle, tentative, like you're trying not to scare off a frightened animal. He almost jerks it back, but his eyes soften when you speak.

"Ani," you croon gently. The nickname makes the tension in his shoulders ease. "Just come to bed. You're getting yourself all worked up."

He sighs. He knows you're right. But he's stubborn on a good day, and today is not one of those.

"You don't understand. They're treating me like I'm less than them just because the Chancellor recommended me. Like I haven't done everything to prove I'm more than just a Knight before he got involved."

"You aren't less than them just because they go around calling themselves Masters. A lot of men in here do that, you know. Makes them feel powerful. If it makes you feel better, I could call you that."

He rolls his eyes. Fond. Amused. "That doesn't really count."

"No, I suppose not," you smile. The kind with your eyes that crinkles softly. The kind that always makes him wonder whether you're actually being authentic. Sometimes he forgets you're human under all the sequins and smoke, when you strut around the room like you're one of the suns and everyone else is in orbit.

You seem like you genuinely want to put him at ease right now, even with all your playful little jabs. It makes him sigh, shoulders slumping as his hand finds your waist.

"You're good at this, you know," he murmurs.

"And you're good at being a Jedi hero," you counter, gently urging him back towards the bed. "But enough moping. I'm not wasting this outfit on you if you think your credits are going towards therapy."

He laughs as the back of his legs hit the bed, letting himself fall. He props himself up on his elbows to watch you trail a tantalising finger down your chest, through the valley of your breasts. It's enough to make any man's throat go dry. Especially a Jedi who's only form of action is the rare occasions he can sneak away to see you.

"No? What are they going towards, then?"

"Depends. Whaddya want tonight?" You ask playfully, tugging at the alarmingly thin strap between the two cups barely concealing your tits. His eyes are drawn to them, watching the way the fat spills out of the satin, the red material a stark contrast to your skin.

He swallows thickly.

"Eyes up here, big shot."

His blue eyes flick up to your own, a little sheepish. This is the part where he has you sprawl out beneath him for his perusal. But instead, he says:

"I just want to feel good at something. Make you feel good."

It surprises you a little, your hand faltering where it's been idly exploring your cleavage. You recover quickly enough that he doesn't comment on your blunder. "You always make me feel good."

"That's a practiced answer," he accuses.

"Practiced but true in your case."

"Fine. But I mean it. I could use the ego boost."

"But—"

"Who's the paying customer?" Anakin interjects.

"You aren't making me feel very good by smart-mouthing me, you know."

He ignores your faux-admonishment. "So you'll let me?"

It's not as if you're opposed to it. Not in the slightest. It's just surprising.

"I'd let you do anything. You know I would."

A shadow of a grin crosses his face, before his braced elbows fall and he lays down. Dark hair spread across your pillows, fanning out in messy curls against the satin.

"Ride my face."

He says it so earnestly you almost laugh. Sometimes you forget how young he is. Nothing like the old timers who come in here looking for a quick fuck with no regards for anything but their own dicks.

"Are you sure? We've never done that before."

"You're not the only girl I've been with," he counters. It's almost enough to make your chest twinge with jealousy—you know he's seen other girls here. When you're busy, or before you became his favourite. You're a professional, though. Don't let it show.

"Okay," you relent. You can't help but be spiteful, though. Panties dragging agonisingly down your thighs while he watches through half-lidded eyes as the fabric inches lower, lower, lower...

Eventually they pool around your ankles, and you step out of them. The bra (a generous term for such a skimpy piece of fabric) follows as you move to straddle him.

"Higher," he says, hands finding your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his body. The contrast between cool metal and a warm palm on each leg makes you shudder.

You whack a hand gently. "Patient. Thought you wanted to be good?"

He bites back a groan, his hands stilling. They still rest on the plush flesh of your thighs, but he isn't tugging insistently at your limbs to get you where he wants you. You continue with your torturous pace, moving up his body. The slick of your cunt drags across his bare abs, and a sharp breath escapes him.

The friction is enough to have you sigh softly as you ease upwards. You take your time teasing his nipples until he's tensing underneath you, back arched up off the mattress and fingers curling into your skin.

"I didn't think this would make you so much of a tease," he says breathlessly.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Your eyelashes bat innocently at him. "This is what gets me off. You're being useful."

He gives you an unimpressed look for your faux-naïf, but he keeps his mouth shut. You're so close that he doesn't want to goad you into holding back any longer. And he's rewarded for his patience when you give a little pat to his pecs, and finally move to hover over his face.

He looks like an undercity kid who's seen the surface for the first time. Eager blue eyes, mouth salivating at the sight of your dripping cunt above him. It's hard to find the restraint to not dive in and bury his nose in your folds. Just the smell almost has his eyes rolling back.

"Please," he murmurs. Breathy and whiny, like a young man begging for a drop of salvation, not the famed 'Hero with No Fear' breaking his Code to spend the night in a pleasure house. "C'mon. Just let me. Oh, please, I need it—"

You sink down onto his mouth before he can finish his sentence. He moans into your heat, tongue flicking out to drink up whatever has already spilled from you. There's nothing tentative about it—it's like he's devoting everything into worshipping you with his mouth. Gone are the thoughts of his Master and the rest of the Council denying him. All he can comprehend is your sweet mewls as you sit atop his face.

His chin is soaked with the fluids of your pleasure, nose nudging your clit each time you roll your hips against his face. It's instinctive and you hardly mean to do it, but he grips your hips and guides you to grind against his eager mouth.

"Oh, Ani," you moan softly. "Just like that. Mhm."

It's enough encouragement for him to keep working. Dutifully strokes of his tongue, switching between nuzzling between your slick folds and sucking at your clit. Cheeks hollowed out and applying suction as you brace a hand against the headboard, the other nestled into his soft curls.

Your thighs tremble on each side of his head, toes curling into the sheets every time he flicks eagerly at the bud. Hips rocking upwards against the air in search of friction he physically cannot receive right now, cock hard and leaking in the confines of his pants. His erection is almost painful, but he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to be good for something.

"You'd do wonders in here, you know,” you manage through a groan. “If you're looking to become a— oh, fuckkkk—different kind of master. Very skilled mouth."

His laugh vibrates against your dripping cunt. "Tempting, if I get to work in such close quarters with you."

"Mhm, maybe. Perhaps we could become a bit of a duo. They pay extra for that, you know. And the tips are great. You should really— oh!"

His teeth graze against that sensitive spot that has your eyes rolling back. "I didn't come here for a new career. Just let me make you feel good, please?"

All you can manage is a hum of agreement with the way he's redoubled his efforts. Tongue flattened against the roll of your hips, obediently letting you use his wet mouth to chase your own pleasure. The feeling of your sopping cunt grinding against his face chases anything but you from his mind.

The pleasure grows almost blinding. "Fuck, close," you gasp out, tugging lightly on his hair.

It earns a pleased moan into your heat. "Please. Wanna feel it," he mumbles, a rumble into you in between licks of his tongue. He doesn't think he's ever tasted anything sweeter.

A few more carefully placed laps and your thighs tense. One of your hands moves to cup your breast as you ride through your orgasm, release spilling over his awaiting mouth. He welcomes it all eagerly, working you through it as his name falls off your tongue again and again.

When you roll off of him, you're both short of breath. Neither of you bother to wipe the smear of your slick off his chin as you sink down next to him. One glance to the chronometer on the wall tells you he's spent most of his time worshipping your pussy rather than chasing his own pleasure. Another glance, this time to him, makes it very clear he isn't bothered by that in the slightest.

Oh, well. You still have a few more minutes for him to smother you in affection unbefitting of two people from your stations in life.

It’s quiet after that. Light, fleeting touches as you catch your breaths.

Aftercare with him is the best part, you think. When all the tension is released and he's all lazy, boyish smiles as he runs his hands absently up and down your bare arm. Soft kisses placed to your shoulders, an apologetic brush of his lips against any splotchy bruises left by the men and women before him. Most patrons are always right out the door, but Anakin...

Well, he likes to check in. Make sure you're okay. Have a bit of banter.

"Was I too much? Was that alright?"

You smile. A silly question, given you were calling most of the shots when you were actually on top of him. You answer anyways.

"No. No, you were perfect," you tell him softly, pushing a sweaty brown curl off of his forehead.

His brow pinches like he doesn't believe you. Not about the too much part. The perfect part. "But I—"

"Ani," you cut him off. The nickname makes him melt back into the sheets. More docile, relaxed. "You are perfect. Those Jedis all have sticks up their asses if they can't see you deserve to sit around their silly little table, or whatever it is they do up in their fancy pants Council Room."

He sighs. A beat of silence.

"... Lightsabers," he corrects.

You blink stupidly. "What?"

"They have lightsabers stuck up their asses."

There's the Anakin you know. You snort softly, bracing your forearm on top of his chest to peer down at him. "I'm pretty sure that'd burn them inside out."

"Maybe they deserve it," he fires back. Something about the way he says it makes you think he's not entirely joking. But you laugh anyways, head shaking softly.

"Maybe they do," you agree, ducking down to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Anyways, you best get going. I have to clean up before the next one comes in."

"Do I have to?" He groans. "Just cancel. Tell them you're sick."

"She's a regular. Unfortunately, you have to go face reality." You sit up, patting his chest. "Go be a big, brave Jedi for me, yeah?"

Anakin rolls his eyes, but he obliges reluctantly, even if he makes a big show of sighing loudly and dragging himself sluggishly out of the soiled sheets in search of his discarded robes.

If tonight has shown you one thing, it's that he probably shouldn't be a Jedi Master after all the rules he's broken in one evening alone. But you don't tell him that. You make your coin out of sleeping with sleazebags from all over the Galaxy in the Coruscant Underworld, after all.

Who are you to judge?

[princesssarisa]

Disney's unconventional "Cinderella" (1950) (long)

Having watched most of the many adaptations of Cinderella, I've come to realize what a unique adaptation Disney's 1950 animated classic really is. Unlike Snow White, which only had a few stage and screen adaptations before Disney produced its groundbreaking film, Cinderella had already been adapted many times before Disney's turn came, and Disney's version makes a surprising number of departures from the standard Cinderella "formula." It was definitely a fresh, creative Cinderella when it made its debut, and it arguably still is. Yet because it's become so familiar in pop culture, and today so often serves as our childhood introduction to the tale, it's easy to overlook its inventive storytelling choices. The 2015 live action remake uses several classic Cinderella adaptation tropes that the original 1950 film actually subverts!

Here's a list of the often-overlooked ways in which Disney's Cinderella stands out from earlier adaptations, and from many later ones too.

Cinderella herself. Disney's Cinderella isn't a traditional Cinderella in personality. The "traditional" portrayal of Cinderella, seen in virtually every adaptation before Disney's and several afterwards too, is the portrayal I call "The Waif": a very young, fragile, melancholy girl, dressed in pathetic rags and smudged with ashes, who makes the audience want to rescue her and who wins the Prince's heart with her wide-eyed innocence and artless charm. But whether chiefly to set her apart from earlier screen Cinderellas or from Disney's earlier delicate ingenue Snow White, Disney's Cinderella is none of those things. She comes across as older, or at least more sophisticated. Nor is she waif-like, but instead combines down-to-earth warmth with ladylike dignity, even at her lowliest. She doesn't sit in the ashes ("Cinderella" is her real name in this version), and her servants' dress is humble yet clean and only slightly tattered. She's gentle and kind, yes, but also intelligent, practical, playful, sometimes sarcastic, philosophical, optimistic, genuinely cheerful when she's with her animal friends, and yet angrier and stronger-willed than virtually all earlier Cinderellas. She doesn't beg to go to the ball, but asserts her right to go, and then sets to work fixing up an old dress of her mother's for herself. Only her stepfamily's sabotage, first by keeping her too busy to finish the dress, and then by destroying it after the mice and birds finish it for her, prevents her from taking herself to the ball without a Fairy Godmother. To this day, she stands out as a complex, unique Cinderella, which pop culture too often forgets.

Lady Tremaine. Some critics today complain that Disney makes Cinderella's stepmother a total monster instead of giving her "nuance" and call her portrayal "sexist." But can't we agree that her sheer cruelty enhances the film's dramatic power? And compared to earlier portrayals of Cinderella's Stepmother, it definitely makes her stand out. In most pre-Disney Cinderellas and many after, the Stepmother is a pompous, vain comic antagonist. Once again, Disney was innovative by portraying Lady Tremaine as a dignified, manipulative, and truly sinister villain, who takes quietly sadistic pleasure in abusing Cinderella and will stop at nothing to prevent her from going to the ball or marrying the Prince. As far as I know, she's also the first Stepmother to realize before the slipper-fitting that Cinderella was the lady at the ball and to take action to prevent her from being found. That's a commonplace plot device in more recent adaptations, but in 1950 it was a creative twist!

The mice and other animals. Viewers debate whether Cinderella's mouse friends, Jaq, Gus, et al, and their misadventures evading Lucifer the Cat are a welcome addition or take away too much screen time from Cinderella herself. But there's no denying that the presence of the mice and birds is an inventive storytelling choice, which makes Disney's Cinderella stand out! And I can provide a long list of reasons why they're more than just "filler." (1) They add liveliness, humor, and appeal for younger children. (2) They gave the animators an outlet for the type of character animation they did best, rather than binding them to the harder work of animating realistic humans. (3) They give Cinderella someone to talk to besides her stepfamily. (4) They give her a way to demonstrate her kindness. (5) The struggles of the mice with Lucifer parallel Cinderella's abuse by her stepfamily, and Cinderella's undying optimism not only keeps her from despair, but inspires them too. (6) They arguably provide a further reason why Cinderella stays with her stepfamily – not only does she have nowhere to go, but an entire community of small sentient creatures relies on her for food and protection. (7) They reward Cinderella for her kindness. From the start, her friendship with the mice and birds makes her life easier to bear, both by easing her loneliness and because they do helpful deeds for her, like mending and cleaning her clothes. They fix up her mother's dress for her to wear to the ball – only the stepfamily's last-minute cruelty requires the Fairy Godmother to step in. And in the end, they're directly responsible for Cinderella's happy ending by freeing her from her locked room. They do all these things because Cinderella has protected them, fed them, made them clothes, and been their friend. Therefore, Cinderella's good fortune never feels "just handed" to her: her kindness directly earns it.

The Fairy Godmother. It's always varied between illustrators whether Cinderella's Fairy Godmother is portrayed as a grandmotherly old woman or as youthful, regal, and beautiful, but screen and stage adaptations before the Disney version virtually always took the "youthful, regal, beautiful" approach. That is, when they didn't change her into a wise, fatherly male magician-advisor, as in several opera adaptations! At any rate, seriousness and dignity were the norm for this character in most adaptations from the 19th century through the 1940s. Making her a sweet, comforting, grandmotherly figure, with a comically and adorably absent mind, was another of Disney's fresh choices.

Cinderella's entrance at the ball. We all know the classic image of Cinderella's entrance from other adaptations. Cinderella appears at the top of the grand staircase that leads down to the ballroom, and a hush falls over the assembly, as not only the Prince, but all the guests and members of the court are amazed by the unknown lady's beauty and magnificent dress. Even in versions without a staircase, Cinderella captivates the room the moment she enters. Adaptations both before and after Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 live action remake, play her entrance this way. But the 1950 animated classic subverts it! The grand staircase leads up to the ballroom, not down to it, and Cinderella's entrance isn't a triumph at first, but a vulnerable moment as she makes her way up the stairs alone, dwarfed by the splendor around her. Then, when she reaches the ballroom, no one notices her at first, because the other ladies are being presented to the Prince and all eyes are on him. But then the Prince notices her in the shadowy background as she quietly marvels at her surroundings, and leaves his post to approach her and invite her to dance. Only then does the rest of the assembly notice her, because she's the one the Prince has singled out. It's more understated and it feels more realistic than the traditional entrance, as well as more clearly symbolic of Cinderella's venturing above her station, then both literally and figuratively being led out of the shadows by the Prince's unexpected attention.

The slipper-fitting plan. Over the years, it's been fairly popular to mock the idea of using the glass slipper to find the Prince's love, as if there were no chance it would fit anyone else. Disney's version is creative by having the slipper-fitting search be the comical, hot-blooded King's idea, not the Prince's, and making it clear that it's not, nor is it meant to be, a foolproof plan to find Cinderella. The Duke points out that the slipper could fit any number of girls, but the King doesn't care if they find the right girl or not: he just wants to hold his son to his pledge to marry "the girl who fits this slipper" and force him to marry the first one who fits it. This also means that Disney doesn't do what most adaptations do and have the Prince conduct the search himself, but follows the original Perrault tale by having a gentleman, in this case the Grand Duke, do it instead. This prevents audiences from mocking the Prince for relying on the slipper instead of knowing his beloved's face.

Cinderella breaking free and asking to try on the slipper. Even though in Perrault's original tale, Cinderella asks to try on the slipper, she almost never does in adaptations. In most versions other than Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 remake, Cinderella's presence in the house (and/or the fact that she has the other slipper) is either discovered by accident or revealed by Cinderella's allies, not by Cinderella's own initiative. In some versions, she even tries to hide from the Prince and/or the search party, either out of fear of her stepfamily or because she feels unworthy of the Prince in her rags. But not Disney's animated Cinderella! First of all, she has an assertive emotional breakthrough when she calls on her dog Bruno to chase Lucifer away and free Gus to slip her the key to her locked room. Earlier on, she urges Bruno to try to get along with Lucifer, lest the stepfamily not allow him to sleep in the house – it's clear that Bruno represents her own rebellious side, and in that scene she's really talking about herself, revealing that she tolerates her stepfamily's abuse so she won't lose her own "nice warm bed" and be homeless. But in the climactic scene, when she finally sees a way out, she gives up playing nice and seizes her chance. First she unleashes Bruno on Lucifer, and then she runs downstairs and directly asks to try on the slipper, not caring how her stepfamily will react, or what the Grand Duke will think of her shabby dress, or whether the audience will accuse her of gold-digging or not. This isn't a common breakthrough in other Cinderella adaptations, but it fits perfectly (like a glass slipper, you might say) with the Disney Cinderella's stronger-willed and more self-assured characterization.

"I have the other slipper." We can probably all safely assume that when audiences first saw Disney's Cinderella in 1950, they all expected Cinderella to try on the glass slipper she lost, with her identity revealed by its perfect fit. They never would have expected Lady Tremaine to trip the footman and break the glass slipper... only for Cinderella to calmly reveal that she has the other one. It's yet another clever and unexpected twist, not seen in any other version. Not even Disney's own 2015 remake.

Disney's Cinderella deserves far more credit than it gets for being unique among the myriad versions of the tale, especially compared to the versions that came before it.

[cakypa120]

Billy is homeless. He needs food. And for this food he will do anything that does not violate moral standards. And the moral standards of the homeless are very different from the moral standards of ordinary people. Moreover, Billy is Billy, not Captain Marvel. He can get away with a lot. Therefore...

He joins various cults and villains for free food. In the cults, he is even given new clothes, which he can then remake into something more normal. Cultists and villains do not mind taking a homeless child, because he can be used in a sacrifice or in some villainous plan. Therefore, they easily give him various food.

And every time a cult or a villain wants to do something terrible, a hero appears in time to stop them. This hero was brought here by an anonymous tip from a certain person.

Meanwhile, Billy leaves with his pockets full of food.

None of the heroes know how these anonymous messages appear. Even Batman can't find anything. So the heroes gave this anonymous person the name "Ghost". Billy liked this name, and he began to sign his messages "From dear Ghost". And it was because of this that some heroes began to fear him, because few called this anonymous person that. So how did he know about it? Was he really a ghost? Some heroes could not sleep at night from worry. Batman included.