#ao3 link in reblog!

[corellianhounds]

Redrafting The Phantom Menace

This is an informal essay/pitch meeting restructuring and changing The Phantom Menace to better utilize its characters and to make it a more compelling sequence of events.

Word Count: 5k

Art Credit: Doug Chiang

I think The Phantom Menace needs some of the biggest revisions of the prequels to set these characters up to be used better not just in the trilogy but in the film itself because not only is Obi-Wan mostly absent for all of Act II and nothing he does in that time affects the main plot on Tatooine, but Amidala’s presence doesn’t really add anything to it either. She learns a little about the culture on Tatooine and she meets Anakin and Shmi (which will be relevant in the next movie), but nothing she says or does affects the plot. Any of her protests against Qui-Gon don’t amount to anything since he’s the adult calling the shots, nothing in Act III is affected by their regard of one another, and she honestly could have just met Anakin on the ship on their return to Coruscant. Qui-Gon ends up being the main character of the movie, which I think was a mistake when Kenobi should have been the lens through which we saw the story unfold.

I don’t especially care for the slavery plot point to begin with because it doesn’t compel me as much as if Anakin and Shmi were just dirt poor. The slavery scenario feels like a way for the plot to keep Anakin and Shmi apart and for Shmi to remain destitute and it takes any real choice of the matter out of their situation. Of course she’s going to let Anakin go the second an opportunity like the one Qui-Gon’s offering falls out of the sky, who wouldn’t?

If she’s stuck in the cycle of poverty and had a choice in the matter of sending her extra set of hands away while she stays behind, that gives a little more meat to her character. Have her indebted to the Hutts or something, give her some astronomical loans she’s struggling to pay off, meaning everything they can spare just gets funneled directly into that debt so they have very little money or means to escape to a better life. What that sets up is Shmi being given the agency and genuine choice of either sending Anakin to be a Jedi because she wants him to have a better life, or keeping him there to help her work off the debt. The control chip won’t be keeping them tethered to that location and it keeps both Amidala and Qui-Gon from being complacent in leaving Shmi to be a slave.

If you wanted for Shmi and Anakin to be slaves, but wanted to solve some of the moral quandaries and give all of the characters more active roles in driving the story (and not just tell the audience “These are the circumstances, the Jedi can’t get involved with local matters, their hands are tied”) what you could have done was have Obi-Wan join Qui-Gon and Amidala on their trip instead of Jar Jar. Shmi explains the circumstances keeping them slaves, Obi-Wan can see Qui-Gon leaning towards doing something to help them, but because he’s more inclined towards following the rules than Qui-Gon is, Kenobi tells them honestly that they don’t have enough people to fight for the freedom of the slaves, and they’re already short on funds and already on a mission trying to save people on Naboo.

Kenobi’s also the one to also bring up a logical part of the Jedi Code: instead of saying they can’t interfere with local politics, he points out an obvious rule they would have in saying “The Jedi aren’t allowed to buy slaves either,” because yeah obviously the Jedi wouldn’t be allowed to do that. Even if that’s the easiest way to free somebody, the Jedi can’t do anything that would compromise other people’s faith in them, because yeah maybe you freed that person, but now that person either has to remain on the planet where that practice still exists and they could easily end up there again once you leave, OR you as the Jedi have to take them with you and hmmmmmmm seems pretty suspicious if you ask me, sounds like you just bought yourself your own slave.

Even dropping that person on a safe planet isn’t a great option because they would likely have no understanding of or foundation on that planet, and they especially wouldn’t have a support network of any kind. How much money, time, and resources do you have to devote to setting them up for success, now that you’ve gotten them out of a life of bondage? Completely uprooting yourself and starting from nothing in a completely new country alone is bad enough— Imagine an entirely separate planet. The alternative is obviously keeping that person with you and placing them under your own care and protection, but that’s exactly what makes you look like you bought a person to begin with and now we’re back to square one.

But, Amidala is there, and she’s a queen. She would likely have oodles of money at her disposal. Ignore the whole “Republic credits don’t spend out here” and say SHE offers to buy both Anakin and Shmi’s freedom, extending the offer by saying Anakin could train at the temple and Shmi could become a ladies maid or a consultant to the queen on Outer Rim territories, something Amidala even says she’s not familiar with. Both of them would be taken care of, Shmi would have a support network and a means of income and the freedom to leave at any time if she wished, nothing wrong with that.

In the end, however it happens, Shmi could be freed from being a slave (since that happens between this movie and Attack of the Clones anyway), but she makes the choice for herself to decline Amidala’s offer. Tatooine, though a harsh planet, is still her home and all she’s ever known. Being taken out of that environment and thrust into one of courtly nobility isn’t one a lot of people would be able to adapt to. Amidala finds a way to maintain communication so if there’s ever any trouble, Shmi has a contact who cares about her wellbeing, and she chooses for herself to remain behind and let Anakin go because that’s what is best for him. The characters are the ones making choices with their own objectives and reasonable enough justification for what they do instead of the circumstances moving them around.

There’s plenty of other ways the story would change by giving them those more active roles and choices. Obi-Wan and Anakin and Qui-Gon would all obviously have more of a relationship to build off of if they’re all there together, which will make Qui-Gon’s death more meaningful for the both of them and will introduce history that will carry over into Attack of the Clones whenever Anakin thinks Shmi might be in trouble. Amidala would have a more grounded interest and stronger connection to Shmi herself, and Anakin’s frustration with Obi-Wan concerning the rule about one’s personal attachments creates more effective interpersonal conflict when Anakin argues that she’s in danger. “Master, if you had the chance to prevent Qui-Gon’s death— If you’d known ahead of time that it would happen— Wouldn’t you have done whatever you could to stop it?”

If you cut down Act I enough (because you don’t really need the entire underwater sequence, Jar Jar was in exile up on land and you could have just had him lead them to the palace, which would have given us the chance to see the invasion affecting the citizens and common folk), Tatooine could have been the majority of Act I with the race being the climax. Make the Separatists more of an enemy force that’s actually intimidating and isn’t just mad about taxation of trade routes. Say they’ve been doing their own thing independent of the Republic for some time and don’t care about the legality of what they’re doing and have the Jedi discover the droid armies and the plot to take over Naboo because it’s a pacifist planet rich in whatever resources the Separatists want to take for themselves.

Cut out the Gungans and the underwater sequence and have whoever Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan meet on land take them to the Theed palace as a navigator directly. I don’t care for Jar Jar’s character and he doesn’t add anything to the film besides (weak) comic relief and a connection to the Gungan army at the end, which can easily be altered if you give Ahmed Best a better character just as himself, leading the Jedi through the forest to Theed. On the way there we see the recent havoc wreaked by the droid army and the effects the invasion is having on the people of Naboo, making the war feel a lot more real and immediate. Make Best’s people like the people of Rohan in Lord of the Rings who have survived as independent nomads and mounted woodland riders for centuries, not given as much support by the city-states and the capital but otherwise left to their own devices (setting them up to become the main cavalry/fighters at the end). They don’t have to be enemies of Theed, but they're not on great terms. They're the first people we see affected by the war, the destruction a lot more down to earth, showing us the severity of the Separatist’s actions and giving us a legitimate sense of danger and despair.

The three of them make it to Theed and manage to save the queen and her entourage. Amidala is introduced desperately trying to make contact with Palpatine in the Senate, the circumstances conveyed much more urgently than before, and she tells the Jedi that she’d been trying to contact them before the invasion even started. In the midst of the fighting Amidala makes a pointed effort to save Best’s character, the two of them making a connection as they move and showing both him and the audience that the queen does care about what happens to people who live beyond the city and palace walls. Qui-Gon convinces Amidala that they need to get her to Coruscant to plead their case on behalf of her people to the Senate. Amidala pleads for Best’s character to call upon the peoples living in the woods and to tell them that the capital city has been invaded and taken over too but that help is on the way. Amidala may be a pacifist, but this invasion shows her that her ideology won’t save her people because it doesn’t matter to the invaders whether you’ve done anything to “deserve” that oppression or not. Those who don’t live by the sword can still die by them.

If the Senate is too far removed from their corner of the galaxy to see that innocent people are being slaughtered and that the Separatists have waged a war that has isolated Naboo by severing their communications network, then she’s going to plead their case by taking it directly to Coruscant herself. Who’s to say theirs is the first planet the Separatists have done this to? What other occupations might they be unaware of?

The ship is still damaged upon their escape, forcing them to make an emergency landing on Tatooine. Amidala has some money with her, but her accounts have been frozen by the Separatists and she won’t be able to acquire more unless they manage to save Naboo and she’s restored as queen. The Jedi also have some money with them, but even together it’s not enough to buy the hyperdrive piece.

In this timeline we go with Kenobi being present with Qui-Gon and Padmé (still disguising herself as a handmaiden, Qui-Gon having a hunch as to who she is though Kenobi doesn’t know) and we cut out Watto and change the slavery circumstances to the Skywalkers being impoverished and indebted instead. City boy Kenobi, unfamiliar with the terrain or locals, accidentally bumps into whoever it is who tries to start a fight and Anakin jumps in and mediates for them. Qui-Gon thanks him and Anakin points out there’s a storm coming and takes them all back to his and his mom’s place, despite Kenobi’s protests that the mission takes precedence and the ‘queen’ has only her personal guard at the moment, they really should be finding the parts and getting back to the ship.

Over dinner the group discusses their prospects. Anakin was already planning to race in the Boonta Eve Classic to put the prize money towards finally paying off his mother’s debt. He and Shmi exchange a look, and he decides he wants to help them out of the goodness of his heart or whatever and in exchange for part of the money, Qui-Gon also offers him the chance to become a Jedi because he senses there’s something different about this kid. Kenobi protests, citing the fact the boy’s too old and they don’t have a solid reason to think he’s sensitive to the Force (regardless of what Shmi tells them about the circumstances of his birth). Have him be the skeptic providing the opinion the council would give, giving the conflict that will spur conversation between himself and Qui-Gon in order to provide exposition for the audience and prompt tension between himself and Anakin that’ll evolve as their relationship and reliance on one another in this movie progresses.

Now.

The consequence of Kenobi being present for all of this is that his and Anakin’s and Qui-Gon’s relationships are given focus and development, but it also means the ship is left without a Jedi guard.

Now let’s say Darth Maul finds the ship sooner while the main characters are occupied: Maul kidnaps Sabé, kills the rest of the guard, destroys the ship, and then he leaves. Qui-Gon, Kenobi, and Padmé hear what happens from R2, the only one who survives. Cut out whatever extraneous Watto junk happens and have this be what ups the stakes for the race because now they end up needing all of the winnings to buy a whole ship, not just to get a part. Amidala does the whole handmaiden reveal here and they realize that buys them a little time since Sabé signing the treaty will mean nothing when it comes out that she wasn’t actually the queen, but that will only be a possibility if they can provide Coruscant with further evidence of the Separatists’ plot and subjugation of the people.

Kenobi by now has figured out that the disturbance he’s been feeling in the force must have been the dark warrior who tracked their ship and stole the ‘queen,’ R2’s security footage getting them a good look of Maul. Kenobi and Qui-Gon confer and realize that if this guy is a Sith Lord, they HAVE to get back to Naboo to stop him at any cost. If he’s been the real power behind the Separatists this whole time, then losing Naboo to their control must be part of a larger scheme that will lead the Republic to war.

Now it comes back down to Anakin and Shmi. Either Anakin doesn’t want to give them the rest of the money, having wanted to provide for his mom too, and Shmi has to reassure him that she’ll be fine before he agrees to still participate in the race and give them the money, or Anakin’s unaware of the change in circumstances at all and Shmi’s the one to say they can have all of the winnings provided Qui-Gon gives her his word that Anakin will be guaranteed a better life being trained as a Jedi. Either way, Shmi’s the one in control of her decision to let Anakin go while she chooses to remain behind. Despite Amidala’s offer for Shmi to just come with them as part of her court or entourage, Shmi declines, knowing Anakin needs a clean break in order to dedicate himself to this new life and that her place was still there on Tatooine, and the Skywalkers are able to part ways with Anakin still missing his mom.

During the whole Tatooine sequence Kenobi has his doubts about Anakin, but during the race we see Anakin finally do some incredible feat that defies all logic, bringing down a rockslide to his advantage or controlling a dust storm or standing out on the bow of his speeder holding the now-damaged, motley assembly together with the invisible hold of the Force itself as he crosses the finish line. There needs to be a clear show of something unexplainable for both the audience and the other characters to see (Kenobi especially) that convinces us this kid has an exceptional command over the Force even untrained, not just that he’s a child prodigy when it comes to racing and mechanical ingenuity. Kenobi needs to be convinced that taking the kid is a good idea here because it provides the basis for their relationship moving forward and it gives ample reason for Anakin to be included in all of the further peril without any of the responsible characters logically being worried for his safety. (As it is in the movies, we never actually see Anakin do enough to warrant being considered “the Chosen One” since nothing he does isn’t something other trained experts of that skill could feasibly do. He needs to be visibly, uniquely powerful even for a Force-user.)

After the race they have to scramble to get transportation and head back to Naboo. Keep their communications interrupted so they can’t contact the Jedi council back on Coruscant to tell them about the invasion, the handmaiden switch, OR Anakin possibly being the Chosen One.

In this interim we see Maul on his ship discussing his success with Sidious over a holocall, along with the next steps of the plan. Sabé is locked in a holding cell, unbeknownst to Maul acting as a spy and gathering information, reading his lips and figuring out what conversation is being had though she can’t hear the voice of the person in the hood (because logically she’d be able to deduce that it’s Palpatine on the other end of the call). It’s obvious this mysterious agent doesn’t know she’s one of the handmaidens because otherwise she suspects she’d be dead, and it’s clear they need ‘the queen’ alive for something. Depending on how you want to play the scene and the characters, she could either remain stoically silent after he’s done talking to Sidious, taking everything in and observing serenely while environmental storytelling gives us the clues and info she’s picking up on, or Maul could monologue/antagonize her, or she could try to negotiate with him under the guise of the queen, subtly trying to figure out his motives, or she could just outright question him, reasoning that he’s not going to do anything to her since she’s needed alive (to which Maul could refuse to give up anything and instead easily threaten her once he decides she’s gotten too comfortable, maybe even giving us some visual foreshadowing/parallels to Anakin in Revenge of the Sith by using the Force to hold her by the throat and remind her that she need only arrive to Naboo alive, not unscathed.).

Have the Theed city battle happen as Act II, show more of the Separatists’ effect on the people they’re subjugating, and have Anakin involved on the ground instead of in the gunship. He ends up seeing/being involved in the Duel of the Fates, exhibiting an impressive display of the Force and throwing up a force field that blocks what would have been a fatal hit from Maul against the two Jedi. Anakin uses the Force to fling Darth Maul back, though it’s not enough to get him off his feet. Maul’s distracted for just a moment as his boots gain traction and he skids to a halt, locking eyes with the kid before he uses the Force to throw Anakin into the path of danger as Qui-Gon approaches. Obi-Wan diverts course to save Anakin and gets him out of the way, telling him to stay back as Maul continues to fight Qui-Gon. Anakin ends up separated when Obi-Wan jams the control for the force field corridor, cutting him off from the fight as Kenobi and Qui-Gon back Maul towards the reactor shaft together.

Anakin surveys the hangar and starts to climb up to the access catwalks overhead, trying to get to the Jedi to help, but as he finally reaches a position overlooking the room he realizes he’s too late. Darth Maul hits Qui-Gon and stabs him through the chest as Kenobi screams. This time however, Kenobi isn’t fast enough in the aftermath to do anything beyond wounding Maul, and when Maul is nearly hit by Anakin doing the equivalent of throwing a ship at him, he escapes.

Kenobi’s and Anakin’s shared story with Qui-Gon comes to a close as Qui-Gon dies and Kenobi tells Anakin he’ll apprentice him instead, and that he has strong evidence for the council that Anakin is the Chosen One. Cut back to Sabé relaying to Amidala through covert means that the dark warrior isn’t acting alone; he’s taking orders from somebody he calls Master, and even if he is killed, it’s likely he’s not the only one directing the war from the shadows. Have the Separatists win the battle and Naboo seemingly come under their control, the treaty signed by Sabé (the Separatists still unaware she’s a decoy).

Maul makes a break for it to head back to Coruscant, for the moment incapacitated and in no condition to fight Kenobi and Anakin together. Kenobi may be alive, but Maul’s mission to make sure the Separatists took Naboo and that the queen signed the treaty is complete, and he tells Sidious over a holocall that there’s a child with Kenobi who is strong in the Force and could be a threat to them…. Unless he can be turned to the dark side.

Kenobi and Anakin sneak around and meet up with Amidala and her remaining entourage and tell her that she has to come back to Coruscant with them because only her presence there while Sabé remains behind (never leaving the Separatists’ watch) will be what shows the Senate that the treaty is void. They scheme to go back to Coruscant with the still-undiscovered true queen; Amidala uses the handmaidens to disperse the message and ready an ambush with the help of Ahmed Best’s character and countrymen, telling those who remain behind not to fight back yet but to comply with the Separatists until she can provide the Senate with the proof of the truth.

The three of them with Amidala’s retinue return in stealth to Coruscant. Keep Amidala from telling Palpatine anything because maybe he was just as complacent as the rest of the senators who didn’t believe her when she voiced concerns of the Separatists setting up an invasion of the planet prior to the movie. Kenobi enlists the help of the council members, telling them what truly happened and that a Sith is behind the Separatists’ machinations, and they also provide video footage of the carnage they saw levied against the people of Theed. The council prompts Senator Organa to bring up the Naboo treaty during the Senate session. The Senate pulls up a holovid conference call with the Separatists and remaining Naboo politicians, Sabé among them, the Separatists showing their “proof” of being able to reach a “peaceful accord.��

And THEN Padmé Amidala steps forward in the Senate to reveal her true identity and the plot the Separatists had the whole time forcing who they thought was the queen to sign the treaty under extreme duress while their people died in the streets and countryside. There’s a collective gasp as her witnesses, including Obi-Wan, come forward with evidence to the veracity of that statement, and the Senate erupts in an uproar as the Separatists flounder on the call, having been caught in the act in front of an audience of thousands.

The holocall is cut short as we the audience see the handmaidens, the remaining guards, and Ahmed Best’s character and his people back on Naboo spring the ambush on the Separatists in the palace, and we see the tide change as the people of Naboo fight back together. Valorum tries to keep order but the longer he goes without taking decisive action the worse he starts to look, and Palpatine quickly steps in to propose a vote of no confidence against him— If Valorum isn’t willing to send arms and support to a pacifist planet clearly under military attack right now, what’s to say he’ll ever do it for anybody else there among them? At what point is it considered an act of war against the Republic, if not now? The people of the Senate begin to concur and Republic forces quickly rally support for Naboo, senators from neighboring planets ordering their fleets to converge on Naboo to lend aid and route the fleeing Separatists as an emergency meeting is called to force Chancellor Valorum to step down.

(Palpatine meanwhile is absolutely seething behind his fake shock and horror, and as soon as he’s able to reconvene out of the Senate chamber he comms Darth Maul like “YOU ABSOLUTE #!$%*&@ IDIOT YOU GOT THE WRONG GIRL”)

Maul’s coming to several conclusions at once with a metric ton of dread flash-fried by anger and they both know they can’t do anything to Amidala OR the politicians back home on Naboo while all eyes are turned that way, BUT Maul realizes that this was all Kenobi’s fault and— probably knowing Palpatine's going to wring his neck if he ever gets his hands on him— he goes rogue in order to get his revenge against Kenobi and try to preserve his standing with his master. The climax of Act III comes down to a much more publicly visible and hard-hitting fight between Darth Maul and Kenobi before Anakin (who’s been with Obi-Wan the whole time and was supposed to be in hiding) uses the Force again to shield Obi-Wan right as it looks like Darth Maul is about to strike the killing blow. Maul’s saber bounces off the shield and in shock he turns to see Anakin, who he recognizes as the kid from the Theed palace who thwarted him then too. Obi-Wan shouts “No!” as Maul charges, and Anakin scrambles away and throws up a shield in front of himself that Maul strikes once, twice, a third time before it shatters, each side of the Force colliding, causing an explosive blast that takes out half of the tower floor with it and renders Anakin unconscious.

Just as Maul rears back to kill Anakin, his saber meets that of Obi-Wan’s, and Obi-Wan pushes him back, determined and revitalized.

The fight ends dramatically on top of one of the skywalks of Coruscant, Jedi and Sith locked in battle as word quickly starts to travel and people start racing up to the tower. Obi-Wan succeeds in cutting Maul’s saber apart before ultimately stabbing him just as Maul had done to Qui-Gon, sending him off the overbridge to his death.

Naboo is shown winning against the invasion thanks to help from the Republic, and the people of Theed and the surrounding forests are saved. Ahmed Best’s character and Sabé are both hailed as victors, the two of them standing united with their people together after a successful ambush and reclamation of Naboo. Kenobi’s a veritable hero, receiving praise from both politicians and Jedi for discovering and eliminating the Sith. The Jedi council manages to frame Maul’s presence as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan “mission” this whole time, and Kenobi’s valor and strategy award him the rank of Knight. The council is still wary of Anakin, but he’s been shown to have had a surprising awareness and command of the Force, and if he’s capable of that without training, they can’t let him continue to live as a civilian with that amount of power unchecked, agreeing that the boy needs supervision, guidance, and accountability. It doesn’t help that Obi-Wan’s determined to keep Anakin as his Padawan now, especially since training him was Qui-Gon’s dying wish.

Sidious manages to frame Maul for the loss of Naboo to the Separatists, telling them that he has been “dealt with.” Though Darth Maul is defeated and the public’s faith in the Jedi remains intact, the Jedi council is deeply troubled by the apparent return of the Sith, and they confer with Kenobi, Anakin, Sabé and Amidala (who are unfortunately accompanied by Senator Palpatine) about what knowledge they have, knowing they need to keep word of a potential second Sith under wraps for the public’s well-being and peace of mind. The fact the Separatists have been revealed to have massive covert operations taking over smaller planets with the aid of droid armies for a while now is shocking enough as it is; they can’t afford widespread panic over the possibility of this being orchestrated by a Sith, let alone more than one.

The result of those decisions, as well as the very public fight Kenobi had with Maul, means that the Jedi are now inextricably bound to serve in the war, still unsure of how they couldn’t have sensed the Sith to begin with, and it sets up Kenobi to wonder if perhaps the Jedi involvement in the war and their deaths at the end of it are his fault for being too rash and ready to fight. It’ll drive his character to mature and become more of a negotiator, and try to keep Anakin from choosing to act without thinking moving forward. Though both Kenobi and Amidala have saved people in this movie, it was done through actions that forced them to compromise their anti-war ideologies, and those irreversible actions will directly lead people who were once pacifists and protectors into war.

That plotline forces the characters together more organically and still covers the same amount of ground and achieves the same result, but utilizes the characters better and creates more of a sense of urgency than before. The consequence of these changes is that Palpatine will later ascend as Supreme Chancellor with sympathy from a majority of the Senate, meaning the Grand Army of the Republic is formed between this movie and the next, setting up Attack of the Clones to be happening in the midst of the war. Sidious has contingency plans upon contingency plans; he still has Count Dooku in his back pocket, still has the Separatists on his side, and now he has his sights set on the young prodigy from Tatooine who seems verrrrrryy interesting to him. He can misdirect the Jedi’s suspicions of Sith towards Dooku and General Grievous, should they end up being discovered, still keeping all eyes off of himself. Palpatine also has a much stronger motivation to assassinate Amidala after this since she’s proven to be more capable than he realized and isn’t just a political pawn he can manipulate. She’s unpredictable, and she needs to be eliminated.

[civetfish]

Nerd-to-nerd communication

Something super pointless and self-indulgent I've had on the backburner for a while. I love trying to make the pieces they gave us fit together!

Al-AN and Robin would absolutely bond over learning about each other's biology. I could talk about this forever but I'll get into all of the headcanons I have for these two in another post eventually

Below the cut is another version with some extra bits and pieces and the transcription

Transcript :

Architect Anatomy A. Architect "Brain" - Doesn't "store" information so much as allow for easy communication with the network B. Brainstem - connects the information received to the central nervous/circulatory system C. "Heart" - Circulatory system pumps the bioluminescent fluid to other organ systems and surface veins. Each node connects to a vast vasculature network D. "Kidneys" - Organs that filter the bioluminescent "blood" and other bodily fluids, absorbing and distributing collected material E. Nerve Center - Receives raw sensory data and filters it. Filtering can be unconscious or intentional

F. "Respiratory" Tract - Intakes gases or liquids and filters out material for use. Disposes of waste on exhale. Provides cooling to internal systems

The respiratory tract functions less like a set of lungs and more akin to a computer's cooling system, with the ability to absorb material from the environment to use in other parts of the body. It also would likely help the architect's body analyze the environment it is currently exposed to on a molecular level. It is also truly unidirectional, with the intake vents near the "collarbone" and the exhaust vents on both sides of the abdomen

The architect organ cache in-game felt like it was definitely not a complete model of the internal organs, so I wanted to come up with something to fill some more space. I also just really liked the idea of Al-An being capable of something similar to breathing, without having a respiratory system in the traditional sense. Feel free to use any of this in your own headcanons if you would like :)

BONUS - a gif of all the layers!

[percki]

on my knees

tags: 18+, mature content, MDNI, Gale x reader, f!Tav, 2nd person pronouns, act 3, semi-public sex, porn w/o plot, lap dance, explicit consent, bondage, restraints, dom/sub, switch Gale, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lap sex, hand jobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise kink

ao3 link

“Urgh.” Rolan stands up, wiping a smear of Lorroakan’s blood off the sleeve of his robes. “Your aasimar friend is… violent.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess, Rolan. We can clean everything up –” You glance around the upper level of the tower, at the holy fire, congealed mud, pasty mixture of water and ash, and a fair amount of blood. At the wizard’s broken body, his face swollen with bruises, his mouth agape, sprawled at the foot of his throne of books. “– Um, but it might take a while.”

Rolan waves one long-nailed hand in your direction, his discolored face grateful – if not a bit exasperated. “Don’t worry about it, my friend. You have already done so much for me – consider my debt forgiven, and all will be well.” You smile at that, watching the tiefling wizard grunt with exertion as he hauls Lorroakan’s body towards the portal. “And, erm – help yourself to any treasures you come across, of course. I’ll be… downstairs…” He pushes the corpse through the shimmering portal, and sends you one last earnest, sharp-toothed smile over his shoulder. “...Burying a body.”

With that, Rolan pushes up the sleeves of his robes (sorcerer’s robes, trimmed in silver, unbefitting for a wizard, but they suit him well nonetheless) and steps through the portal, no doubt bracing himself to break the news to his new employees. ‘Hey, so remember those adventurers that just came in? They killed Lorroakan, violently, and I’m your boss now. Surprise!’ You’re sure the staff at Sorcerous Sundries have endured worse surprises; working for Lorroakan sounds akin to an eternity of torture in the Hells.

Aylin sheathes her sword and crosses over to you, removing her helmet. Her ash-blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and her gold-streaked face glistens with blood and sweat. “I shall be at your camp, if you have need of me,” she declares, and inclines her head in gratitude. “You fought well – as you have before. I remain thankful for your assistance.” Less wordy than usual – Lorroakan’s death must be weighing on her. You don’t blame her.

“Thank you, Dame Aylin,” you say, and bow in respect. She smiles at that, silver eyes gleaming.

“Ooh, wait!” Karlach runs up to you, her arms full of wine bottles – no doubt pilfered from Lorroakan’s hidden stash. The woman has a nose for alcohol – she could find a bottle of Baldur’s Grape blindfolded, disoriented, in the middle of a rainstorm. Shadowheart is close behind, a new cloak slung over her shoulders and a fair amount of gold filling her pockets. “We’ll probably go back to camp, too – Fringe and I have to try all this wine.”

“To make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Shadowheart adds, green eyes twinkling with humor. “You can handle yourselves without us, can’t you?”

You grin. “Save a bottle of Mermaid Whiskey for me.”

“Blech. You can have it all.” Karlach sticks out her split tongue, her smile wide. “See ya!” She bolts through the portal head-first: dangerous, with the amount of alcohol in her arms and the fiery infernal engine in her chest. You hear a distant crash, and wince.

Shadowheart follows close behind, calling, “Save the Tyche Pink!”

You hear the rush of wings and look over – Aylin is gone, too, a flash of silver in the clear blue sky. You watch her fly, the wind buffeting her white wings – deva-like, altogether unnatural, inhuman, beautiful in an untouchable, deadly, frightening way – as she soars. The sunlight seems to collect around her, like a remnant of her celestial mother’s power lingers, still, even after the heat and rage of battle is done.

“And then there were two.”

Gale’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up, meeting his eyes. Dark brown, deep, gentle, shining with a light all too familiar. He’s standing by the throne of books, his right hand resting on a copy of Folktales of Faerún: The Angelic Aasimar. 

You kneel over the ashes of the water myrmidon, sifting through the remains for treasure. Nothing. “I suppose Rolan will take a while…” You look around the tower once more, keen eyes picking out chests, display cases, bookshelves – anything that could hide a nice new set of robes for Gale, or a dagger for Astarion, or perhaps some armor for Wyll… “Will you cast Feather Fall? I want to look on the lower levels…” You trail off, reading something in Gale’s eyes. His fingers flex on the spine of the book, his shoulders thrown back, his lilac robes fitting his form well. Is he… posing? You smile and straighten, dusting ash off your sleeves, and move to his side, twining your left arm with his right, leaning comfortably against his side. “The Annals are in the vaults,” you say, knowing his primary objective here, halfheartedly attempting to lift his spirits. Thoughts of the Crown are dangerous – you have seen how easily the lure of power can corrupt, a thousand times (with Kagha in the Emerald Grove, with Minthara at the goblin camp, with Ketheric and Gortash and now Lorroakan). But despite your reservations, you know his ambition fuels him, that it drives his fire, that thoughts of greatness and respect do raise his spirits. “We could go down ourselves…”

Gale turns into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his beard scratching at your neck. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, and sighs deeply, inhaling your scent – blood and smoke and sweat, and the faintest hints of his cologne lingering on your skin. “I… Not yet,” he says vaguely, and kisses your neck again, deeper this time. Your breath hitches as he trails long, searing kisses up your neck, along the line of your jaw, leading up to your lips.

“Gale…” You whisper, voice low. “I –” He nips at your bottom lip, smiling against your chin, and you can feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says devilishly, oak eyes sparkling, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “I can’t believe…” He blinks, as if waking from a dream, and cradles your jaw with his hand, straightening to his full height.

You kiss him, this time, tasting blood on his lips, and you stop, examining his face carefully. A bruise is forming at the bridge of his nose, blood tracing a path down the apex of his lips to his chin. You frown, brow creasing in worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Hm?” Gale touches his face gingerly, delicate, careful fingers prodding the quickly-purpling skin. “Oh. Yes. That. It’s quite alright –”

“It’s not alright,” you reply. “Let me heal you.” You take his shoulders in your hands and guide him into a seated position on Lorroakan’s throne, his back reclined against a collection of Ramazith’s annotated tomes. You kneel before him, positioning yourself between his legs, and summon a simple healing incantation, your hand hovering over his nose, the blue glow of the spell reflected in his eyes. “Te curo,” you murmur, and watch as his skin knits itself together, blood drying, swelling fading, the bruise vanishing beneath your fingers. “Better?”

“Better,” he admits, and looks at you with intent in his eyes, his gaze dark and focused on your features. “My love,” he starts, then hesitates. His face turns a delicious shade of pink.

“Yes?” You lean forward, hanging onto his words. He adjusts his legs, his thighs bracketing your shoulders, and you feel the slightest thrill at your compromising position, you in your armor and him in his robes, you kneeling before him like a supplicant at an altar.

“Rolan may not return for some time,” Gale says. “We could…” He stops again, biting his lip.

You guess his meaning immediately – your thoughts are remarkably in-tune. You can’t deny that you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wished for… Well. For Gale. Your peaceful nights since arriving in the Lower City have been few and far between, interrupted as they are: by vampires, by nightmares, by Orin’s ministrations. It’s been some time since you and Gale had time to yourselves.

And now, it seems, you have all the time in the world.

“Do you want to?” You question, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding infinitesimally. You lean forward, cupping his cock with your hand, and smile to feel him already half-hard beneath your touch.

“I – yes,” he breathes, and raises his hand to cast Mage Hand, the incantation on his lips, when you catch him by the wrist, holding him still.

“No magic,” you say breathlessly, and straighten back up to your full height, smiling down at him. “As mortals do, remember?”

Gale watches you intently as you undo the first few buckles of your armor, leather slipping between your fingers. He sits up, reaching out his hands to help –

And you push him back.

“Don’t move,” you warn him, and plant one hand securely on his chest, holding him in place, as you draw a piece of silken fabric out of your pack. You hold it up for him to see, and upon realizing your intention, his eyes widen, pupils expanding impossibly wide. “Do you want this?” You ask, and he confirms with a nod of his head. You narrow your eyes and lean in, your face centimeters away from his, your breath ghosting on his lips. “Say it, please, love.”

He swallows thickly, eyes locked on yours, and says, his voice a rumble in his chest, “I want you to tie me up.”

You smile, and reward him with a bruising, biting kiss. “Good boy,” you murmur, and relish the way his face reddens, his jaw going slightly slack at the praise. “Lean forward for me?” He acquiesces, already holding his hands behind his back, and you climb up into his lap to twine the silk around his wrists, your touch featherlight and gentle. You test the knot, and smile. Not too tight – but he certainly won’t get any ideas about spellcasting. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yes,” he says into your shoulder, his voice muffled by the layers of your armor. You stand back up and step completely out of your clothes, metal buckles and buttons clinking as your many layers fall to the floor, and then you stand before Gale in your undergarments, your skin rising with goosebumps from the cool air, his eyes roving a path up and down your figure.

You feel a little warm from the intensity of his gaze, but you steel your nerves and continue. You reach out with your senses, using the knowledge of the Weave that Gale taught you of so long ago, and you can feel a soft tinkling at the edge of your perception, the distant sound of music, and you pull it towards you. In one of the pleasure dens far below, a slow, sensual number starts up, and you filter the sound through the available space, filling the tower with music.

Gale’s lips part as he realizes your plan. “Love,” he starts, “I haven’t –”

You feel a twinge of self-doubt, standing there near-nude before a man who is completely clothed. You have no experience with this whatsoever – apart from what you have read and seen – and you’re not sure that Gale loves you enough to forgive you if you make a total ass of yourself. “This is okay, right?” You rush to ask, holding your hands out for his before realizing that he’s still tied. You tuck them behind your back, straightening your posture. “Um – I know this is probably unusual, but, you know, in the Quarta Sune –”

Gale grins, his dimples making a rare appearance, and the sight of it pulls at your heartstrings. “You are perfect,” he promises, lifting his dark eyes up to your face. “This is perfect. Please, keep going.”

The slight rasp of his voice goes straight to your core, and you step forward before you’re entirely conscious of your movements, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He leans into you with a groan, and you can feel his shoulders move, his hands resisting the bindings, and you pull back. “No touching,” you say softly, “right? This is about you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his expression adorably resentful, and you laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Later,” you promise, and with that, you stand up, and turn away from him, facing the windows, the setting sun illuminating your skin. The music restarts, strings amping up, and you sway your hips to the tune, letting instinct take over. One, two, three, you breathe, feeling the rhythm run through you, and as the music crescendos, you drop down onto Gale’s lap, your ass just brushing over his thighs, hoping your undulating body looks sensual rather than spasmodic, and your efforts are rewarded with a delicious, blinding groan from behind you. You turn back around to face him – one, two, three – and lean in close, your scent intoxicating, his body warming your skin, and bracket his legs with your knees, one hand carding through his hair and the other slowly unbuttoning his robes, your knuckles barely brushing the velvet-soft hair on his chest. You slide your hands down the planes of his torso, and then, just as he’s leaning forward, again, anticipating your lips on his –

You step back again, turning, lifting your hands over your head and letting your hair down, smiling to yourself as you peek over your shoulder at his exasperated face. One, two, three. You let your ass ghost over his lap again, closer this time, holding there for a few moments longer than he considers tolerable, and just as his patience goes and his hips buck, you return to your starting position, looking down at him chidingly.

“Please,” he whispers, and you raise your brows, your hands going to the clasp of your bra. He watches, rapt, as you slide the fabric off your breasts and let it fall to the ground atop your discarded armor, your nipples peaking in the cool air. You repeat the motion with your panties, and you’re sure Gale catches sight of the soaked fabric as you toss it aside: his face turns a flattering shade of crimson, his arms straining against his silken ropes.

“How can I deny you?” You say, and with smooth, uninterrupted movements, you slide onto his lap, rocking your hips back and forth, tantalizingly slow, atop him. His robes slip open completely, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his undergarments, barely brushing against the skin of your thighs. Your hands roam along the skin of his chest, thumbs swirling careful circles in the dips of his collarbone and shoulders, your palms warm against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praise him, and lean forward to kiss along the line of his clavicle, then slowly up his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, tasting his sandalwood cologne, his soapy shaving cream, the sweat and salt lingering there, your tongue pulsing against his jaw. “So good for me,” you continue, running your hands through his hair, “you’re perfect, Gale.”

And then, surprising him, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees, slotting your body perfectly in between his legs, and in one swift motion, you free his aching cock from his undergarments and lean forward once more, fitting your lips around the head.

“O-oh,” he moans, straining to keep still as you take him deeper, your hands tracing patterns on the skin of his thighs, reaching up to his hips, your nails scratching lightly, and then, as you adjust yourself and push him back so as to get more leverage, you wrap one hand around his shaft and devote the other one to palm gently at his balls, still a touch too gentle. “Mmm – more,” he sighs, and you obey, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then fitting it back in your mouth, deep enough to brush the back of your throat, pre-cum salty on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, looking up at him through lowered lashes, and his mouth falls open, releasing the most pleasurable moans and groans, sighs and mewls slipping between his lips, chanted noises that may be words – you catch the sound of your name, and please, and yes, in the chorus of sounds that escape his chest, rising and falling in octave with every swipe of your tongue and bob of your head. “P-please,” he says again, “please, let me –”

You guess his meaning, and reach behind him; the movement sending his cock to the very back of your throat, and his back arches in pleasure; and pull the strings of his bindings, untying his hands. The moment he’s free, he takes your head in his hands, cradling your jaw, and lets his fingers twine in the strands of your hair as you suck with renewed eagerness, sliding back nearly completely only to take him in fully again, the feel of his cock in your mouth dizzying, intoxicating, sending white-hot shivers through your body –

You glance down, and through the haze of pleasure, through the shadows of sunset, through the sweat and slick on your body, you see a flash of blue cupping your cunt, and you can suddenly feel the gentle, not-quite-there brush of the Mage Hand’s fingers against your clit. You war between pleasure and indignation for a moment – and indignation wins. You pull back, Gale’s weeping cock inches away from your mouth but still suspended in midair, and he huffs, putting his hands over his eyes, his pleasure cut short just on the path to climax. “Why did you –”

“No magic,” you repeat, and you can feel the Mage Hand dissolve. Gale peeks out from through his fingers, caught, and not the least bit ashamed. “Do I need to tie you up again? Completely, this time?”

“I –” His cock twitches, beads of precum leaking from the tip, stunning the both of you into silence.

You let a devilish grin slide across your face. “Oh. You want me to tie you up, love? Top to tip, completely trussed up for me?” You pull away from him and reach in your pack for more ribbon. “Red or purple, my sweet?”

Gale manages an arrogant smile, his face still flushed red. “Purple, of course.”

“Good choice,” you grin, and stand, running the ribbons through your hands reverently. “This will only take a minute,” you promise. “Why don’t you take those bothersome clothes off before I get started?”

He does, and you let your eyes run over his figure appreciatively for a minute before going to work. Hands on the ‘arms’ of the throne, the ribbon secured around a stack of encyclopedias. His legs against the respective ‘legs’ of the throne, straining slightly against his bonds. You stand before him, and he angles his hips up slightly, his eyes pleading.

“So cooperative,” you murmur, running your hands gently up his thighs. “So patient. So good.” You lift your hand to your mouth and spit on your fingers, holding eye contact, and he breathes shakily as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning forward, mouthing kisses along his neck and collarbone. You start slowly, tantalizingly, pumping your hand along his length with a careful, measured speed that makes Gale’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Please – more,” he moans, his lips chasing yours. “Faster.”

You acquiesce, moving quicker, twisting your wrist the way you know that he likes. His breaths come faster, too, a mindless stream of yes and please and more coupled with your name falling from his mouth. You kiss him with bruising intensity, feeling his cock twitch in your fingers, his body straining against his bonds.

He comes with a muffled yell, his eyes rolling completely back in his head, and you kiss him fiercely as his come paints your stomach and thighs where you sit atop him. “Please – gods – please, untie me, let me –”

You smile against his lips and loosen the ribbons, yelping when his arms encircle you with surprising strength, lifting you up by your thighs and laying you out on the tile floor of the tower, the ground cold on your skin, your head canted back as Gale trails kisses down your thighs. “Ah – Gale,” you sigh as his fingers whisper up the inside of your legs, your skin rising with goosebumps. “I can’t –” You try to lift your head, to see where he is and what he’s doing, but your neck won’t cooperate. “What –”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gale murmurs into your thigh, his hand lifting your leg to his lips, his beard tickling your skin pleasantly. “There’s only so long I can go without magic, my love. I thought –” Here, his tongue slides up to your cunt, tracing around your lips gently, and you moan, your boneless body arching in pleasure. “I thought you might enjoy feeling how I felt. Constrained. At my mercy.” His tongue winds a circle around your clit, and your breaths come faster, your thighs shaking madly. “Do you?”

“Do I – ah – what?”

“Enjoy it,” Gale says into your cunt, and the vibration makes you shudder.

“I – yes, I – please, I want to touch you, I want to –”

“Mmm,” Gale hums, his tongue working careful, restrained circles around your clit, dipping down to taste your slick. “Not yet.”

It’s been less than two minutes, and you’re already shaking, riding high, your eyes unfocused, as Gale takes you apart with his tongue. The painted constellations of the ceiling dance in and out of focus, and your moans echo around the circular tower, a mix of yes and please and Gale falling from your mouth, a reminder of the way you coaxed Gale’s orgasm from him with delicate fingers not five minutes before. “Gale, I – oh, gods, I can’t – please, I want to see you, I –”

The spell breaks, and you lift your head to see Gale’s face completely buried in your cunt, his sweaty hair spread out on your thighs, his eyes closed in ecstasy, and the image is enough to send you over the edge, a scream in your throat, your legs shaking wildly as you come, Gale’s tongue still working at you gently, until the sensation is too much and you kick him softly, signaling get off me, because your vocal cords aren’t working at the moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, and crawls up to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty-sweet and heady. “But we should probably go before Rolan comes back. I suspect we won’t have an opportunity to take advantage of his hospitality again.”

“Gale…” You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, your eyes fluttering shut. “You might have to Dimension Door us out of here. I don’t think my legs will move.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smiles, and helping you stand, he laces his robes back up and aids you in buckling your armor. “Now come. There’s a bath at the Elfsong that’s calling my name.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head into his shoulder, and watch dreamily as he conjures the portal. “Wait – what about the Annals?”

“Oh.” Gale looks down at the lower levels of the tower. “I suppose we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looks almost downcast, but then the expression fades, and he’s just Gale again, smiling at you. “Let’s go.”

[bimboamyrose]

Unfamiliar - Ch. 17: (Dis)trust

Artwork by @mmm-asbestos ☆Read Ch. 17 on AO3☆ Previous Chapter ☆ First Chapter☆

[chacerider]

(he can't even play guitar he just wanted to look cool 🎶)

[eiloveir]

“and then, that’s it.”

pairing. — uchiha sasuke x reeader

warnings. — features occasional profanity, a tense argument, and relationship issues.

author’s note. — the storyline draws inspiration from Justin Bieber’s “flatline.”

The air in the room was thick with an uncomfortable stillness, as though the weight of everything left unsaid pressed down on your chest. It wasn’t just the silence, but the kind that left you gasping for air, desperate for something that would break the void between you and Sasuke. Five years. You had spent five long years by his side, and yet, standing here now, you’d never felt so completely alone. The man who once held you so close now felt miles away, even when he was standing right in front of you.

You watched him as he removed his tie, every movement precise, but empty. There was no tenderness, no acknowledgment of you in the way he moved—just cold, mechanical motions. It hit you then: the man who once held you, who used to pull you in without hesitation, now felt like a stranger. Something had broken between you, and the silence that hung in the air seemed to say more than either of you could.

Neither of you knew how to fix it—or even if it could be fixed.

He didn’t smile at you anymore—not like he used to. He didn’t share those rare laughs over silly things or press gentle kisses to your forehead when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Now, Sasuke had buried himself in work, using it as a fortress to shut you out. He left before the sun rose, never bothering to meet your gaze, and came home long after it had set. When he did come home, he just went through his routine, making you feel as though you weren’t even there for him to notice at all.

Tonight, though, you had dared to hope—just a small hope. You had made his favorite dishes, slaving away in the kitchen for hours, preparing each dishes, and clinging to the ridiculous belief that maybe this time, he would notice. That maybe this time, he would see you again.

You stood in the kitchen, feeling raw, exposed, a vulnerability you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in months churning at your insides. You were desperate—for him, for something to pull him back, to salvage whatever was left.

“I made dinner,” you said, and you know how much emotion was contained in those two little words.

You gestured to the table, where the food sat untouched, waiting for him like you always had, like you always did.

Sasuke gave it a cursory glance. His palm rubbed the bridge of his nose, a motion you would eventually grow to detest as his gaze dropped down to the ground. It was his cue to cut you out of the conversation before it even started.

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered, as though his mind was already somewhere far from you.

Your chest clenched cruelly, but you bit back the flood of hurt that threatened to surge. “But I made it for you,” you murmured more softly this time.

“I’ve got work to do,” he replied sharply, cutting you off before you could even begin to argue.

Always work. The thought echoed in your mind. You couldn’t remember the last time he had chosen to be present with you. You tried to understand how important his work was, but to the point that he didn’t even bother to talk to you anymore? It stung more than you cared to admit—it feels as if he had forgotten how to make room for you in his life.

He turned away, moving toward his desk with that same cold efficiency, as if your attempt was merely an inconvenience he couldn’t be bothered with. Frustration boiled over within you, spilling past your defenses before you could rein it in. “It’s always work with you, isn’t it?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, the sharpness of your voice surprising even yourself. The silence that followed felt heavy, and you braced yourself for his reaction.

Sasuke’s body froze in its tracks as he was about to take a step, his muscles tensing as if he was prepared to take on it. He pivoted around to face you, his facial expression unchanging and his eyes darkened with impatience.

“What exactly are you insinuating with that statement?” He stood there, appearing edgy and on edge, waiting for your response.

Your heart pounded in your chest, hurt and rage swirling inside you. “It means you’re never here, Sasuke,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of emotions you’d kept bottled up for so long. “You’re always somewhere else—always busy, always too tired. Do you even care anymore?”

His jaw tightened, the tension in his form evident as he cut in with a warning. “Don’t even start this again,” he said firmly, tone dripping with edges. “I’ve explained to you before, my work—”

“I’m sick of hearing about your work!” you snapped, your own frustration now bubbling over. “You hide behind it, Sasuke. It’s your excuse for everything. You’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out. You’re the one who’s making this into something it’s not.”

“Something it’s not?” You could feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, but you fought them back. You refused to let him see how much he was hurting you, how much this was tearing you apart. “We’re barely even together anymore! You come home late, you don’t talk to me, and when you do, it’s like I don’t even exist! How is that not shutting me out?”

“You think I don’t have enough on my plate?” he said quietly, his voice barely containing the anger simmering beneath the surface. “Do you even understand the kind of pressure I’m under?”

“And what about me?” you shot back, your voice rising despite yourself. “What about the pressure I’m under? To keep pretending that everything’s fine? To keep waiting for you to care?”

“You really don’t grasp the situation, do you? I simply don’t have the time to waste on this. Every second counts for me right now, and your petty complaints are the last thing I need on my plate. Can’t you see that?” He gave you an earnest gaze, his eyes narrowing as the tension between you grew. His patience was slipping, and with every seconds, his frustration grew.

“Petty?” The word struck you like a sharp slap. In an instant, the tears you had desperately tried to hold back cascaded down your cheeks. “This isn’t just something trivial, Sasuke! This is about our relationship! And yet, you’re treating it as if it holds no significance at all.” Your voice trembled with emotion, and hurt flooding your words as you confronted him.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated, as though you were just another problem he had to deal with. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not like I’m gone forever. I come home, don’t I?”

“Physically, maybe. But emotionally? You’re never here. It’s like I don’t even matter to you anymore.”

“This is exactly why I can’t deal with this right now. You blow everything out of proportion, and then you expect me to drop everything to coddle you.”

“I’m not asking you to coddle me,” you whispered, his apathy crushed you, and you felt your breath seize and your chest constrict. “I’m asking you to care.”

There was an intolerable void between you, and his silence was deafening. When he finally did say anything, his voice lacked the familiar warmth and his words were chilly. “You can’t even understand me.”

“Do you really think I don’t understand you?” The question escaped your lips. “I’ve been trying to reach you this whole time!” Like a tumbling river, your words flowed forth, a cry to close the distance that seemed to grow between you.

With your heart racing, you moved closer to look for any indication of comprehension in his countenance. “I see your damn struggles, the tired you are, but it feels like you’re shutting me out completely. How can I understand what you’re going through if you refuse to let me in?”

He did not respond. He merely stood there, silently saying louder than he could have with his expression. And you were broken by that quiet. You understood, for the first time in years, that Sasuke was not going to stand up for you and that he would not even apologize for the suffering he had caused by hurting you in the manner that he had.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this anymore.” he eventually spoke, and in that instant, everything around you seemed to stop. It felt like the air was stolen from your lungs, and your heart splintered into a thousand fragments.

Again, he stood there, silently watching as your heart shattered, doing nothing to stop it. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, and you made no attempt to wipe them away. “So, this is how it ends?”

He said nothing.

In that moment, you realized it was over.

You realized you had lost him long before tonight.

[zerafinacss]

Replace the AO3 Icons

I made a site skin that replaces the AO3 icons with new ones in a higher resolution! I also gave them a flatter and cleaner look and made a few different color versions.

This is the old iconset:

And here are the new ones I made:

Instructions on how to add them to AO3 and the required CSS code can be found here.

Shoutout to the HD AO3 icon skin by ao3css which inspired me to make this!

[arahusk]

Husk is tired once he reaches the home’s front steps, and maybe a little grumpy. His ears were still ringing from static.

He ignores the deer antlers perched over the door, like a morbid holiday wreath. But it’s both typical and so very predictable, and after weeks of this routine, Husk is barely put off by it anymore. Its winding antlers are almost like a beacon of sorts, pulsing and calling out to him as he traverses the city’s streets to Alastor’s home. 

Part of the deal is to keep his boss company. Nightcaps and the sort. Husk knows it’s risky every time but the prospect of a drink is always hard to turn down. That, and his radio back at the casino is on the fritz lately, static and noise playing over the speakers in both long and short bursts that was giving Husk a headache. Which probably meant Alastor wanted him over there right now instead of two hours later. Jackass.

But maybe, in some ways, Husk also craves for a little company. He’s not ready to admit that just yet.

“Boss, you in?” he calls out, pushing open the creaky door into darkness. He has his own key and everything, even though Alastor would usually just summon him without any warning. Maybe to see Husk get pissed off, or maybe because he was really that impatient. “Got your fucking radio message. Ever heard of using a phone?”

The house is evocative of the abandoned homes that are the staple of any low-budget horror flick—with rotting floorboards, cobwebs in every corner, and skull paraphernalia decorating every available surface. It had been a shock to Husk at first, but now it was just a little blasé for his tastes. He now expects Alastor to put up creepy decorations like hanging plastic bats or wearing a witch’s hat to liven things up.

But he only sees the same thing, with the lights completely out. There’s a fireplace from across the room, the wood dry, the flames gone. 

And it’s Husk’s first hint that something is wrong.

Every instinct is telling him to run, an instinct that he usually fucking listens to. After all, it’s the only damn reason he stayed alive for so long until an unfortunate slip up made him end up here in Hell. (He does not want to think about it, so he’s going to stop that right now). His foot is already half out the doorway, his wings opened up, in case something tries to grab at him from the darkness.

Instead, he stays. Instead, he walks inside the house. A sensation, a sound, pulls at him to move forward, hidden in the shadows, even as his mind is screaming at him to leave.

But he doesn’t think it’s Alastor that’s going to pounce on him in the darkness. If he did, he might have felt less afraid—mildly. But the feeling keeps moving his feet to further inside the home, to hallways that sometimes shifted for his own boss’s shits and giggles. Husk lost count of how many times he had found himself in a long hallway with no doors to leave through, just for Alastor’s own amusement. 

But the shadows that move around him, some of them with eyes, are frantic. The hallways keep rearranging themselves until he feels he has been traveling for miles. But there’s always another door, always another deer skull hanging around, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to leave again once the home brings him to where he needs to be. 

He also keeps hearing that same radio signal from before—those short and long bursts, high-pitched and keening inside his head. It makes him shiver, makes him grit his teeth, but he keeps going forward, even as the sound makes him want to rip off his ears. It’s distant, but it’s growing, and he knows he’s getting closer the further he goes deeper into this house.

At one point, he finds himself on the stairs. Old, creaking stairs that were covered in mildew, where a few steps in-between were entirely missing. He walks up them with no question, his wings fanning out to hover any missing places for his feet. The stairs seem to lead in a spiral, and then the wood slowly, almost subtly, begins to turn to metal grates. Instead of mold, there is now rust, much of it covering the railing Husk occasionally uses. It makes his claws screech against it, whenever he lets his hand place itself on it.

The radio tower is supposed to be on the other side of Pentagram City. But Alastor’s home was always a place to rend apart reality to suit where he wanted to be, whether that’s a murky swamp or a glaring red tower where the frequency is always at an awful signal—and it was that awful signal bringing him up, always playing that same deformed patterns, over and over again.

But then, Husk finds himself at the top, and the red decor that makes up this place is almost all gone. It’s just dark, and it’s cold, and there is Alastor—

—and he’s kneeling on the floor in the middle of the room before a woman that Husk knows, because everyone knows who she is. 

There are nights when Husk tries to sleep, and makes sure his damn radio is off. But he still hears singing, floating on the air, and he can’t help but admit that the voice makes him feel some sort of hope that he should have stamped out years and years ago.

She’s so tall, regal and timeless, with sleek and black horns curving from her head to tangle along her golden hair. In her hands is a chain made of a light that there is no name for. She looks over at Husk, who has just appeared from the dark like nothing, first with a curious lift of an eyebrow—and then finally a light laugh. The melodic sound of it makes his heart race, fends off exhaustion from his limbs.

But then he sees Alastor again who is on his knees, whose head is bowed, and over his neck is a manacle that is so tight—and then the chain pulls upward.

And the movement makes Alastor lift his head and there is a flash of something that’s terrified and broken, and any music that lives in Husk’s head is suddenly gone in a flash.

He makes the mistake of talking.

“What’s…going on here?” His voice doesn’t even sound like his own. The tone is tight, stripped of everything. It’s as if some part of him knows that if he breathes wrong, it’s over.

“Oh, look, Alastor. Your friend is here.” The woman finally speaks, her eyes flicking over the chained Radio Demon. His head is still turned away, and only Husk notices then that his once neat red hair is frazzled, unkempt. 

At her tone, Alastor starts visibly shaking. His ears lay flat against his head, and Husk can even hear him breathe faster. “No.”

“You don’t believe me? But you must have heard him.” The woman smiles, something that Husk can still see, even in the dark. “It seems he’s finally caught us.”

Husk isn’t sure he wants to understand what she fucking means by that.

She bends down from her great height so she can place her hand over Alastor’s head—so grand that it looks as if she could crush the demon’s head with just her palm. Her fingers tap along Alastor’s cheeks, a thumb playing with his hair. “You should greet him. It’s only polite.”

And in Alastor’s voice, he hears something akin to terror. Panic. Shame. The radio filter is off completely, leaving no room for error to what Alastor feels, to what he’s experiencing.

“Wait, wait, no—”

“Now, come on.” A hand that grips the back of Alastor’s hair, and a pull of the chain that yanks him upward, enough to lift him just slightly off his knees. “Say hello.”

“Wait, stop it, I don’t-!” 

And then Alastor turns.

Husk sees a face that is finally bare of every glimmer, of every facade, of every blistering smile. Alastor stares back at him, under the pressure of both the hand and chain. In his eyes, steeped in red that is now so dark, there is an awful and silent cry. 

But in that silence, Husk hears something. It’s coming from deep within Alastor’s chest, the radio waves that had been missing from his vocal chords. But Husk hears it, those same long and short bursts of awful sound, all as Alastor keeps looking at him with widened eyes. Calling him.

Husk then realizes what he had been hearing over the radio back home: a corrupted form of an S.O.S signal.

--

Inspired by this art.

Full fic on AO3.

[hailsatanacab]

Your Favourite Author's Favourite Fic

in no way is this me sneakily trying to get fic recs out of people, but here's my new tag game!

Rules! When tagged, reblog with the fic you've written that you love the most

Not the fic with the most kudos, or the most comments, or the most hits, but the fic that you're the most proud of. I'm talking about the story that kept you up at night, the one that you still think about, the one that you wish more people would read

So, it's time to show off! I strongly encourage - in fact, I demand - that you give yourself some compliments, a well-deserved pat on the back, and tell us all the reasons why it's your favourite!

Then tag five people and make them go through it, too 🥰🩷

I'll tag @wolfjackle, @tourettesdog, @gilbirda, @die-erlkonigin6083, and @thewritingowl to get us started, please and thank you!!

[grasslandgirl]

heaven is not fit to house a love like you & i

[dead boy detectives. Charles/Edwin. canon divergence. 13k]

Charles Rowland fell in love nearly thirty years ago. Edwin wasn’t the first lad Charles had feelings for. There had been some proper fit guys on the football team his dad watched, and a guy named Tom a few years ahead of him in secondary school that Charles had been obsessed with; even before he knew what words to put to it. He liked girls, too, of course, and that was easier. A pretty smile and a flutter of his dark eyelashes and maybe a clever line or two and they’d be all over him for a fun time. Charles loved a good snog with a pretty girl, but he hadn't really, concretely, considered the option of another boy until Edwin. Edwin, with his tiny pleased smiles and his perfect posh posture and his impossibly sharp wit. His hands were long and narrow, with uncalloused knuckles and soft palms, even in death. Edwin, who was kind and gentle even when he had no reason to be; who sat by a dying boy and read him stories and made that musty attic feel warm again, even for just a bit. [aka. what if Charles was in love with Edwin all along?]

kisses to jannah and bev for their invaluable thoughts and help throughout the like. two month process of me trying to write and edit this fic lmao. finally it's here. happy sav fic posting! xox!

you can read it here on ao3

[juiceicicles]

Mean and Scary | Chapter 1: King of Hawkins High

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48053206/chapters/121165750

Pts: 1, 2, 3

As he traipses through the woods, Eddie tries to get a bearing on what is about to happen and what his plan is for when it inevitably goes sideways.

Dealing pot to Hawkins Royalty like King Steve isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but doing it alone at a picnic table in the middle of the isolated woods? Yeah, not Eddie’s smartest decision for a meeting place.

In his defense, he’s only a hop skip and a jump away from the high school, and he couldn’t be assed to drive any further for what’s likely going to be a one time payment of $20. $25, if he overcharges Steve (which, he absolutely plans to do.)

Eddie finally gets to the clearing and Steve jumps when he notices him, finally looking away from a tree he was seemingly having a very intense staring match with.

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Sorry,” Eddie chuckles a bit awkwardly, trying his best to subconsciously communicate that he is not a threat, because he really doesn’t wanna get his lights punched out right now “Didn't mean to scare you.”

Eddie sits down and his metal lunchbox clatters onto the table —Steve flinches again. Boy, Harrington is jumpy— and sits across from him. He opens up his Pail-o’-Drugs and watches as Steve drums his fingers on the table.

“There's, uh... There's nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here. We're safe. I promise.” Eddie honestly didn’t expect Steve Harrington to be worried about being caught, considering that Steve apparently used to hold daily house parties.

He still can’t believe it. King Steve goddamn Harrington sitting there, in all his douchey glory. Or at least, that’s what Eddie expected. Instead he sort looks exhausted. His eyes keep flitting around, and he looks like he just saw a ghost.

You see, Harrington was never a dick to Eddie, specifically. However, he sure as hell didn’t treat the freaks of Hawkins High with any sort of sympathy. Hence Eddie’s original plan to act like the biggest asshole he possibly could without scaring off a rich customer. But something about Harrington’s eyes, a sort of dull terror etched into the hazel brown, is making Eddie reconsider that decision.

“So, how does this work, exactly?” Steve sort of mutters. This is so utterly different from everything Eddie heard about him. Steve always roamed the halls with a sick sort of ironclad confidence, with his two jackals Tommy and Carol following his every beck and call. The boy across from Eddie though? He seems so haunted. Like a flickering projection of someone. A puppet with its strings cut.

“Uhh just like any other old sale, except cash only, and for obvious reasons, no receipts,” he gives Harrington what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... 20. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last a while.”

A squirrel skitters up a tree in the background, and Harrington gasps quietly and whips around to track it. And then, finally, it clicks for Eddie.

Steve’s worried about being seen with Eddie the Freak Munson. Figures. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from King Steve.

“Hey, we don’t need to do this. Just give me the word, and I’ll walk away.”

“It’s not that, I don’t want you to go.” Steve starts, tentatively. He’s still looking around, like somethings about to pop out of the woods. “It’s just…Do you ever feel like you’re loosing your mind?”

And, of course Eddie feels like he’s lost his marbles. He’s a super senior with the nickname the Freak. Obviously he sometimes feels a little crazy. He’s a little surprised that notorious cool guy Steve Harrington feels that way, though.

He makes the decision right then and there to see this out, because even if Harrington’s afraid of being caught, there’s something here that Eddie’s missing.

“You know on a daily basis. I feel like I’m loosing my mind right now,” screw it, might as well be honest, go big or go home right? “doing a drug deal with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.”

“Ah, well, I haven’t been king for a while…” Steve trails off.

Eddie remembers Billy Hargrove. Remembers how he made him want to beg every god there was for Steve to steal back the crown. Billy Hargrove was mean to Eddie. He was mean to everyone. And he wasn’t highschool-mean either, he was Larry Munson mean. He was a jackass who wasn’t afraid of anyone and wanted you to know it.

Unprompted, Eddie remembers the first time he met Steve. Before he was Hawkins Royalty, before he was a jock and a bully, before Eddie was the freak and not just a freak. Eddie had just gotten to Hawkins, his old man had been put away and the US government dropped lil’ Eddie on Wayne’s doorstep. He’d met some friends and formed a shitty garage band. They’d played at the middle school talent show, and Eddie had lost his guitar pick. A boy about his age had given it back, told him his name was Steve and he had found it underneath his chair in the seats.

“You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... Hung out.”

“No?”

Eddie lets out a little chuckle. Of course Steve wouldn’t remember. “It’s alright.”

He clutches at his heart like he’s been shot with an arrow and flings himself off the bench and into a pile of leaves behind him. He hears Steve let out a little gasp before he hops back up.

“I wouldn’t remember me either, Harrington!”

Steve looks a little amused, and Eddie catches a light brown blob in his peripheral vision. He combs his fingers through his hair and dislodges a dead leaf.

“Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?”

Steve lets out a little chuckle as Eddie starts to gets into his story. If there’s one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it’s story telling.

“Middle school, talent show. Carol I think did this cheer thing? You know the thing the,” Eddie mimed some pom poms. Steve was smiling a little bit, so Eddie continued his spiel, “and I- I was with my band.”

Suddenly Steve pipes up “Corroded Coffin! Oh my god!”

Eddie’s bewildered that Steve apparently remembered their weird prepubescent metal show. He claps his hands excitedly and points to Steve. “You do remember!”

“Yes, of course! With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I dunno. You’re a freak.” Eddie’s pretty pleased with himself when his lack of brain-to-mouth filer apparently doesn’t offend Steve. In fact, Steve breaks out a smile. It’s less Harrington Charm then Eddie expected, more of a dorky toothy grin.

“No you just- you looked so-“

“Different? Yeah. Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet.”

“You played guitar right?”

“Uh-huh. Still do. Still do.” And since Eddie is an impulsive mess and isn’t totally hating this interaction, he does something that totally spits in the face of the tried and true Munson doctrine and invites a preppy jock to a metal concert, “You should come see us. Uh, we play at the Hideout on Tuesdays. It’s pretty cool. We- we actually get a crowd of about five…drunks.”

Steve laughs a bit and clamps a hand over his mouth, like he’s a bit startled by the noise. Eddie doesn’t blame him, he’s a bit caught off guard too.

“It’s not exactly the Garden, but, you gotta start somewhere, right?”

Steve looks at Eddie with a considering gaze for a moment, like he’s trying to figure Eddie out.

“You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“What, a total freak?”

“No, no. Honestly? I thought you’d be mean. And scary.”

“Me? Steve Harrington thought I’d be scary?”

“Yeah! You’ve got this whole, I dunno, chains and leather vibe. Thought you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you’d be mean and scary too.”

“Yeah?”

“Terrifying.” Eddie’s hit with the sudden realization that he’s completely forgot about the drug deal he came here for and plops himself back down at the picnic table. “Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so... Twenty-five percent discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, you know.”

“…do you have anything maybe stronger?”

[theblueredearedslider]

For every 1 note I'll spend 10 minutes on a WIP. Writing or art

MY WIPS, IN ORDER OF PRIORITY

WRITING

-New chapter for an ongoing fic

-Rising action through resolution of a oneshot

-Rewrite of an old fic

-2 concepts that need writing

DRAWING

-Pokotho drawing

-Animatic

-Glamrock Chica redesign

-2nd Animatic

-Barnaby B Beagle fanart

-A drawing I started rendering EONS ago and never finished

-2 meme redraws

-Comic panel recolor

-AU Character Concept

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

Sequel Fic to The Eden Club

Chapter 2: I could walk this fine line between elation and success

Ships: HankConVin Tags: consensual sex worker connor, post revolution-negative public opinion, evil!Elijah, poly dynamics, plot with porn, anal sex, vaginal sex-component exchange, healing hankvin, kamski owns the eden club, more tags to be added Chapter preview:

Since Connor left for work, Gavin and Hank haven't spoken a word to each other. Not as the negative result of a fight or anything, they were just- each lost in their own thoughts. Mostly about the tin man and the ongoing mystery of the party, and the unfortunate moments after.  Hank needed to talk about it. That was obvious by the fact he was currently hand washing their week’s worth of neglected dishes even though they have a perfectly functioning dishwasher.  Don’t get him wrong, Gavin is thrilled the older man has chosen dishes over Black Lamb and a revolver, but, well, now that Connor’s out for the night, maybe they could actually talk about some shit.  “Hey Hank, you good,” Gavin asks, knowing the answer well before its spoken. “Absoultely fucking not,” Hank huffs, tossing the sponge into the bath of warm bubbles before turning around, “I’m worried outta my fucking mind!” “Yeah, I know,” Gavin sighs. Because he gets it, he’s feeling it too. He’s been feeling it since Connor fled the BBQ then came back looking even more traumatized. The android hasn't brought it up again since, and neither have either of the humans. Til now at least. “Want a beer?” Hank sighs and turns back to the sink to rinse suds off his hands. “Got any of that weed left,” Hank asks instead. Gavin’s eyebrows raise in surprise but he nods.  “Yeah, actually. Gimme a sec.” Hank nods.  “I’ll make us some coffee.”

[biconic-disaster25]

I can't believe it's been a full year since Daph (@bottledovercast on Ao3), and I posted this? Like, wha? 😭

1 year anniversary reblog for anyone who wishes to go on an emotional, Christmas themed, roller coaster ROTTMNT style XP

PS: I also highly rec literally ANY of bottledovercast's other works. She is a FANTASTIC writer <3

Anyways, Happy Holidays! ^.^

[emeraldcodex]

The more things change, the more they stay the same-- it may be a Mega Man ZX AU, and the cosmic horrors might be rocks instead of giant robots, but the Getter Team is still comprised of absolute maniacs willing to fistfight god

@no1ryomafan

[dogpawsswapgod]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends), Caitlyn & Vi (League of Legends) Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends) Additional Tags: Lesbian Sex, Tender Sex, Extended Scene, Rewrite, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Fisting, Prison, Explicit Sexual Content, Sweat, Canon Rewrite, First Time, Canon Lesbian Relationship, No Lesbians Die, POV Lesbian Character, Piltover's Finest, Vaginal Fingering Summary:

an extension of CaitVi's love scene in se02ep08 of "Arcane," featuring more explicit yet tender sex as well as insights into the characters' thoughts and feelings as the scene unfolds. This is my first stab at any kind of fanfic, that's the power CaitVi has. i'm sure there are plenty fics revisiting this scene, hope mine adds something sweet to the pile. i love these two lesbians, like, i don't even care that they're cops, that's how powerful they are. comments and feedback are welcome!