#the price of freedom is steep

[closedrop]

I just finished crisis core

Uhh yeah

That’s it

Nothing else to share

I have no thoughts or feelings

None, nada, zilch

[wowa-bublord]

you should go into detail about this on my knees pleading

U 2 ARE GIVING ME AN EXCUSE 2 BE EVIL ON MAIN. thank you

okay so, the first thing we hear about Zack in canon is that he has a hero complex KDHHFJD this is a heroes story. with his last line being "Did I make a good hero?". But despite this being a heroes story, we see Zack fail to, and immediately reckon with the consequences of being unable to, save people. (even when the reasons are out of his control) On three main occasions that I'm sure you already know

and through out the game, we see the way he fails take a toll on him through his dialogue ("Why is everyone always pushing everything on me?" "Can't I save anyone?" "So you're putting another mission onto me?" Angeals "It should have been me that killed genesis" and Zacks "Why didn't you?") (these are paraphrased because im too lazy to skim through the game again right now) Zack is guilty. He feels guilty. Even in his visions of Angeal as he's breaking out of the lab are of Angeal berating him for failing to be a SOLDIER. Cloud is the only person he has left to save. Of course he would die for him. Of course he wouldn't look back. Of course he'd give Cloud the bed and sleep on the floor.

Saving Cloud isn't just about saving Cloud

it's his redemption.

[one-winged-dreams]

fKJSLHDG:LKJSHDG:KJLHSDG????

I did that fucking comfort character meme with Heather Mason and Zack as a warmup.

Zack was a given, but Heather was the funniest fucking possible second option (and the easiest to draw).

[bunabi]

to add on to nun thing, people were also pointing out the reason people are so insistent to sexualise nuns is as punishment/a way of asserting dominance over them for denying men sexual availability. Now we're getting the whole 'kids these days are brainwashed by conservatives for thinking sexualising women is bad' so yeah definitely blink twice

given all that's going on globally I don't think Eid was a great time to have that conversation

[millenniumpuzzle]

just remembered that zack. that he. that in this one he doesn’t make it and i got very sad over the fact that i’m gonna have to play that scene out

[noxtivagus]

THE ZACK FAIR BRAINROT IS SO REAL

[vivekbsworld]

Your Comprehensive Guide to Car Hire Services in Calicut

alicut, also known as Kozhikode, is a city steeped in history and natural beauty, making it a popular destination for travelers exploring Kerala. Whether you’re visiting for business, leisure, or to delve into the rich cultural heritage of the Malabar region, having access to a reliable car hire service can greatly enhance your experience. This guide will walk you through everything you need to know about car hire services in Calicut, ensuring you make the most of your visit.

Advantages of Car Hire in Calicut

Renting a car in Calicut offers numerous benefits:

Flexibility: Enjoy the freedom to explore Calicut and its surrounding areas at your own pace, without relying on public transportation schedules.

Convenience: Easily access attractions, markets, and restaurants that may not be easily reachable by other means of transport.

Comfort: Travel in comfort with the convenience of having your own vehicle, especially useful for families or groups.

Exploration: Discover off-the-beaten-path destinations and scenic routes that may not be covered by tour packages.

Top Car Hire Services in Calicut

Here are some reputable car hire services in Calicut to consider:

Savaari Car Rentals: Offers a wide range of vehicles including economy cars, sedans, SUVs, and luxury cars. They provide both local and outstation travel options with competitive pricing.

Zoomcar: Known for its self-drive car rental services, Zoomcar provides flexibility with a variety of vehicles from hatchbacks to SUVs. Ideal for independent travelers looking to explore Calicut on their own terms.

Myles Cars: Provides both self-drive and chauffeur-driven car rental options with a diverse fleet that caters to different budgets and preferences. They offer convenient booking options and reliable service.

Avis India: Specializes in premium car rentals with a focus on comfort and style. Avis offers a range of cars including luxury sedans and SUVs, perfect for business travelers or those seeking a touch of elegance.

Carzonrent: Offers dependable car hire services with a variety of car models available for short-term and long-term rentals. They ensure customer satisfaction with competitive rates and flexible rental plans.

How to Choose the Right Car Hire Service

Vehicle Selection: Consider the size of your travel group and the type of terrain you plan to cover. Choose a car that suits your comfort and luggage requirements.

Rental Terms: Review the terms and conditions carefully, including insurance coverage, mileage limits, and any additional fees or charges.

Booking Process: Book your rental car in advance to secure availability, especially during peak travel seasons or for specific vehicle models.

Conclusion

Renting a car in Calicut provides the freedom and flexibility to explore this captivating city and its scenic surroundings at your own pace. Whether you’re visiting historical sites, enjoying local cuisine, or simply soaking in the coastal beauty, having a rental car ensures you maximize your time and make lasting memories.

Call to Action

Ready to embark on a memorable journey through Calicut? Explore the car hire options mentioned above and book your ideal vehicle today to start your Kerala adventure with convenience and comfort.

[nightingale-the-lurker]

Hic est nihilum

[DEMO] Last update: 19/04/2024 | [ROMANCE OPTIONS]

SYNOPSIS

Hic est nihilum is a 16+ fantasy story set in a desolate, post-apocalyptic wasteland. Assume the mantle of the Omen, a rebel who endured a harrowing betrayal. Embarking on a perilous journey through the lifeless Abysm, you must rescue your allies from the clutches those who'd sooner see you dead and stop two loving, loathing gods from taking control of your mind.

PLOT

After a lifetime of enduring the Matriarch's iron grip, you dared to defy her tyranny. Empowered by the enigmatic Sud the Time's End, the smiling harbinger of death, you led your forces to reclaim a portion of the desolate, lifeless wastes of the Abysm. Victory seemed within reach, until betrayal shattered your ambitions.

Left for dead in the unforgiving desert, your survival now hinges on an ambiguous mission from your divine benefactor. As you navigate this treacherous path, the fate of your allies hangs in the balance, while the Matriarch's dominion remains unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the chaos, whispers of alternative powers echo through the Abysm, offering salvation at a steep price. Will you bend to the will of fate, or forge your own path to freedom? The choice is yours, but in this land of turmoil, nothing comes without sacrifice.

FEATURES

Play as a male, female, or non-binary character and choose your sexuality.

Customize your appearance and personality.

Decide on your skills, weapon, and fighting style.

Gather a patchwork group to rebel against the Matriarch.

Interact with two gods who want to take you as an ally, servant, and saint: Erichea the Drowned Maiden and Sud the Time's End.

Decide how you'll lead your rebellion: Will you be a ruthless rulebreaker, an idealistic liberator, or a pragmatic diplomat?

Don't lose your mind. Or do.

ROMANCE OPTIONS

Faz Sharaan is a tech expert who mysteriously appeared at your doorstep, offering his expertise. Though invaluable to your cause and a man with a heart of gold, his past remained a tightly guarded secret. It's as if he emerged fully formed from the desert sands.

Yuan Lixue is your steadfast ally and fierce protector. From the outset, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to your cause, her loyalty to freedom unwavering. Yet, the crucible of battle has left its mark, turning her into a hardened warrior with an appetite for blood.

Rhys Dariann is exactly what he says: A flesh-eating demon. Yet he seamlessly transitions into kind town doctor and devoted chaplain. His reasons for aiding you are veiled in secrecy, but one thing is clear: an old hatred towards the Matriarch fuels his every action.

The Angel is an enigmatic and inhuman celestial being sworn to your cause without explanation. Their price? To never again take a life under your command. You've always wondered, however, if they're fallen from grace or merely overlooked by the gods of the Abysm.

[idkyetxoxo]

Tyland Lannister - Veils of Duty

Summary - A queen, trapped in a loveless marriage with a king who sees her as a mere obligation, finds fleeting comfort in the arms of her secret lover. Their forbidden passion starkly contrasts the cold, mechanical duty she endures with her indifferent husband.

Pairing - Tyland Lannister x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), infidelity

Word count - 2227 

Masterlist for Tyland • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

It's wrong to desire another man when you're married, and even more wrong to act on it while your husband remains blissfully unaware but guilt was a stranger to me.

After all, my dear husband Aegon, the king of the Seven Kingdoms, often found more comfort between the legs of a brothel whore than with his own wife, the queen.

"I will return later, I must speak with a few members of my council," Aegon said, dressing himself with the practised indifference of a king who had long since lost interest in his queen.

I nodded absentmindedly, barely registering his words. Since his ascension to the throne, it had become increasingly difficult for me and my secret lover to meet. Aegon was insistent on producing more heirs, a duty he fulfilled with mechanical regularity.

Once he left, I reclined on the silken sheets, lazily twirling a strand of my hair around my finger. The chamber felt emptier in his absence, but not for long.

The door creaked open, and I sat up hastily, clutching the sheets to my chest in a moment of panic before recognizing the intruder. Relief washed over me as Tyland strode into the room, his steps quick and purposeful.

A smile broke across my face. "What are you doing here?" I asked as he closed the distance between us, his lips seeking mine with urgent need.

"Visiting," he replied simply, my eyes darting to the chamber doors.

"You're mad," I whispered, my voice a mix of fear and excitement. "What if you get caught? He could return any moment."

"They would have my head for bedding the king's wife," he said nonchalantly, a smirk playing on his lips. "But it would be a worthwhile death, knowing I perished because I could not resist the breathtaking queen," he added, cupping my face gently in his hand.

Tyland's presence was a dangerous comfort, a reminder of the passion that still existed within me. 

Each touch from him was a sweet sin, a balm for the wounds inflicted by Aegon's coldness. 

Yet, beneath the pleasure lay a gnawing fear, how long could we dance on the edge of a knife before it finally cut too deep?

His lips found mine once more, I knew we were playing a perilous game. The walls of the castle held many secrets, and the price of our indiscretion could be steep. 

In those stolen moments, the weight of my crown seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of freedom I had almost forgotten.

Tyland's kisses were fervent, filled with a longing that mirrored my own. "If only things were different," I murmured against his lips, the words a lament for the love that could never be fully ours.

"But they are not," he replied, his voice a whisper against my skin, heavy with unspoken regret. "And that is why each moment with you feels like both a gift and a curse."

His words rang true, a bitter acknowledgement of our reality. Our love was a defiance of duty, a rebellion against the roles we were forced to play and in the confines of my chambers, away from the prying eyes of the court, we allowed ourselves to be who we truly were.

He began to undress, each piece of clothing falling to the floor with a deliberate slowness that heightened the anticipation between us. His eyes never left mine, filled with a tenderness that was as intoxicating as it was rare. 

Unlike Aegon, who approached our couplings with the detachment of fulfilling a royal obligation, Tyland made me feel cherished and desired.

As Tyland joined me on the bed, his touch was gentle yet insistent, his hands exploring my body with a reverence that made me shiver. His fingertips traced the curves of my waist and hips, sending waves of anticipation through me. 

He kissed me deeply, passionately, his lips trailing down my neck, igniting a fire within me. Each kiss was a promise, each touch a declaration of his desire.

I bit my lip, stifling the moan that threatened to escape. Any moment now, the door could swing open. Any moment, and this would all come crashing down.

His mouth travelled lower, worshipping my skin with a tenderness that made my breath hitch. He took his time, savouring every inch of me, his eyes dark with hunger and affection. 

When he reached the valley between my breasts, his tongue flicked out, tasting my skin, and I arched into him, a quiet moan escaping my lips.

"Does this please you?" he whispered his voice husky with desire, his breath warm against my ear.

"Yes," I breathed, my hands clutching at his back, pulling him closer. "More than you can imagine."

Tyland's hands moved lower, parting my thighs with a gentle insistence. He positioned himself above me, his gaze locking onto mine. He entered me with a care and consideration that Aegon had never shown. 

He paused, allowing me to adjust to the sensation, his eyes searching mine for signs of delight.

Every movement was deliberate, each thrust measured and controlled. He rocked into me with a rhythm that built slowly, his hips grinding against mine in a way that made me gasp. 

His hands roamed my body, caressing my breasts, brushing over my sensitive nipples, and sending shivers of pleasure coursing through me.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his lips finding mine again, kissing me deeply, his tongue dancing with mine. His thrusts grew more insistent, his pace quickening, but never losing that underlying tenderness.

Our lovemaking was a dance of mutual need, a silent conversation where our bodies spoke the words we could never utter aloud. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, urging him on. 

The friction between us intensified, and I felt the tension building within me, spiralling tighter with each passing second.

"Tyland," I moaned, my nails digging into his back, leaving marks that would fade but never disappear entirely.

He responded with a groan, his movements becoming more urgent, his control slipping as he chased his own release but even in the throes of passion, his focus remained on me, on my pleasure. 

He angled his hips, hitting a spot deep inside that made stars burst behind my closed eyelids.

With a final, powerful thrust, we both tumbled over the edge, our cries of ecstasy mingling in the air. He held me close as we rode out the waves of our climax, his body shuddering against mine.

In the aftermath, we lay entangled, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Tyland's arms wrapped around me, his hands stroking my hair, my back, grounding me in the reality of our shared intimacy. 

For a few precious moments, the world outside my chambers ceased to exist, and there was only us.

"Stay with me a little longer," I whispered, my fingers tracing the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every angle.

"Always," he replied, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. "For as long as we can."

In Tyland's arms, I felt truly seen, truly loved. He was attentive, his every action a testament to the depth of his feelings for me. 

With him, there was no pretence, no duty, only the raw, unfiltered expression of our forbidden love and in those stolen moments, I allowed myself to believe in the possibility of happiness, no matter how fleeting it might be.

Suddenly, a sharp knock on the door shattered our intimate bubble, startling us both. My heart raced as we froze, listening. Tyland's eyes met mine, fear reflecting in them.

"Your Grace," a voice called from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakably authoritative. It was one of the Kingsguard. "The king requests your presence immediately."

I groaned inwardly, the weight of reality crashing down upon us. "Now?" I called back, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

"Yes, Your Grace. It is urgent," came the reply.

I sighed heavily, feeling the tendrils of duty tighten around me once more. Tyland's hand gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek in a soothing gesture. 

"We must bid each other farewell," he said softly, a touch of sadness in his voice.

"I know," I replied, reluctantly untangling myself from his embrace. "But I wish we had more time."

"As do I," he whispered, his lips pressing one last lingering kiss to mine.

I rose from the bed, the cool air of the chamber a contrast to the warmth we had shared. I moved to the dressing table, hastily pulling on my robes. My hands trembled slightly as I fastened the intricate clasps, the urgency of Aegon's summons gnawing at me.

Tyland watched me, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and resignation. "Remember, my queen," he said, his voice low and earnest, "I am always with you, even when we are apart."

I nodded, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. "And you with me," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

A quick knock sounded again, more insistent this time. "Your Grace," the Kingsguard urged, his tone leaving no room for delay.

With a final glance at Tyland, I steeled myself and walked to the door. The Kingsguard stood there, his expression stoic and unreadable. 

"The king is waiting in his chambers," he said, stepping aside to allow me to pass.

I cast one last look over my shoulder at Tyland. He gave me a small, encouraging nod, his eyes holding mine until the door closed between us.

As I walked through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, I felt the weight of my role as queen settle heavily on my shoulders once more. 

The passion and connection I shared with Tyland were moments stolen from a life of duty and obligation, moments that sustained me in the face of a loveless marriage.

As I stopped outside Aegon's chamber, the crown on my head felt heavier than ever, a cold reminder of the throne that kept my heart imprisoned. 

Yet, deep within, where no one could see, the fire of our love still burned, defiant, unquenchable, and damning.

I took a deep breath and composed myself. The guards outside the door announced my presence, and I was ushered in. 

Aegon sat at his desk, surrounded by parchments, the flickering candlelight casting harsh shadows on his face.

"You called for me?" I asked as I entered.

"Yes," he replied, not looking up from his papers. "We need to resume our efforts"

His words were delivered with the same cold detachment he applied to matters of state, a reminder of the duty that bound us together. I swallowed my frustration and nodded, moving closer to him.

"Of course," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me.

Aegon finally looked up, his gaze appraising and indifferent. "It's important for the stability of the realm," he added as if to justify his clinical approach to something so intimate.

I forced a smile, knowing any resistance would be futile. "I understand," I replied, suppressing a sigh.

He rose from his chair, shedding his robes with the same mechanical precision he applied to his royal duties. As he approached, I steeled myself, trying to push thoughts of Tyland from my mind. 

Aegon's touch was devoid of warmth, his kisses perfunctory and dispassionate. I closed my eyes, allowing my thoughts to drift to the moments of true connection and tenderness I had shared with Tyland.

My mind drifted back to the warmth and tenderness of his embrace. The contrast between the cold, duty-bound king and my passionate lover was stark, and yet it was a contrast I had learned to navigate.

As Aegon moved over me, his movements were practised and routine, lacking the deep care and passion that Tyland had shown. Each thrust was mechanical, a duty to be performed rather than an act of love. I suppressed the urge to flinch, reminding myself that this was the price I paid for my position.

"Is this satisfactory?" Aegon asked, his voice flat and devoid of any true concern for my feelings.

"Yes," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. "It is fine."

His eyes briefly met mine, flickering with something that almost resembled sorrow but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the steely resolve of a king whose heart had long since hardened.

I focused on the ceiling, counting the seconds until it would be over until I could retreat back to my thoughts of Tyland and the love that sustained me through these cold, indifferent encounters. 

As Aegon finished, he rolled off me without a word, returning to his papers as if nothing had happened.

I dressed quickly, eager to leave the room and the suffocating weight of my duties. "I will see you later," I said, my voice steady but distant.

As I fastened my robe my fingers found the gold locket at my throat, a gift from Tyland. Inside it, a single rose petal, now dried and brittle, just like the love we dared to nurture in the shadows.

Aegon merely nodded, already absorbed in his work. I left the chamber, the door closing behind me with a sense of finality. As I walked back through the corridors, I felt the familiar ache of longing for Tyland, the only one who made me feel truly alive.

For now, I would play my part, fulfill my obligations but in the secret corners of my heart, I carried the memory of our stolen moments, the love that defied the crown and that, more than anything, gave me the strength to endure.

A/n - Payback for the Aegon 'No Control' fic perhaps

[onewingedangels]

CRISIS CORE FINAL FANTASY VII REUNION (2022) dev. Square Enix ↳ "Boy oh boy, the price of freedom is steep." — Zack Fair

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : IV]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: Even though you saw a chance to escape, you face an inner conflict between desire for freedom and a growing attachment to Qimir. You’re unsure whether you want to flee or stay by his side.

Status: work in progress (This is a long fanfic that will be about 10+ chapters.)

A/N : beware! This dude is a mastermind manipulator (and he's also fucking hot when he does this)

➡  Intro // EP : I // EP : II // EP : III // EP : V // EP : VI // EP : VII

[Episodes 4] Seek freedom and become captive of your desires.

A storm was raging across the surface of an unfamiliar planet, and through the small viewport, nothing was visible except for the relentless sheets of rain and the murky, gray sky. All other sounds were drowned out by the deafening roar of raindrops striking the roof. The air was thick with the damp scent of rain, but it couldn’t mask the overpowering stench of blood that lingered stronger still.

You closed your eyes, taking a long, measured breath, trying to calm your turbulent mind. You had known this was inevitable, yet the guilt burning in your chest hadn't diminished at all.

Your mind drifted back to your memories. Three days ago, you had begun using your prescient visions once more, searching for the future that lay ahead. It was then that you saw one path in destiny—a crucial opportunity to escape Qimir. The likelihood of success was a staggering hundred percent. As long as events unfolded along this path with no missteps, freedom would be yours, true and unshackled, severing all ties with him and every other bounty hunter who might come after you.

However, the price for your freedom was steep, paid with the blood of others.

And that price had already been exacted—on Qimir, with you as the cause.

That was the story you had seen in your vision. Like the butterfly effect, it all began with a small rumor that spread like wildfire among the bounty hunters—a whisper passed from one to another, ear to ear, that Qimir was in possession of a woman with a high bounty on her head, and they were now wandering across the galaxy together.

These rumors fueled the greed of many, and eventually, a group of daring bandits concocted a sinister plan. The plan was brutally simple: kill Qimir, capture the woman, and claim the bounty for themselves.

Your prophetic vision had laid it all bare for you. They would attempt to assassinate Qimir on a day when a heavy storm raged on a remote planet far beyond the reach of the Republic's watchful eye. Everything was perfectly set for murder and evidence concealment, ensuring that no lawkeeper would trace the deed back to them.

But what those criminals hadn't considered was that Qimir was no easy prey.

You had faced off against Qimir multiple times. You knew him thoroughly, unquestionably in his skill, and the future vision confirmed this. Even though he would be surrounded by over a dozen armed men, Qimir was still formidable enough to defeat them all—and ruthless enough to kill every one of them, leaving no one alive to tell others about you.

You already knew he wouldn't die, but this fight would severely injure him, paving the way for your escape. Qimir would have no chance of catching up with you, and if you managed to escape successfully, he would never find you again. The thread of fate binding you two together would end there.

You knew this was the only chance you'd been waiting for. The chance to break free from him. as you've always wanted.

So, you chose not to warn Qimir, even though you knew exactly what he would face.

You didn't care who got hurt or died. You fully embraced the truth that you were not a good person because this universe had no place for good people. To survive, one had to learn to be selfish and heartless. This was how you were raised, and there was no changing that.

All you have to do is wait. Let fate play out as you've foreseen it. Don't interfere; don't alter the course. Then, when Qimir is gravely injured, you'll leave him here, steal his ship, and escape to another planet. That would be the end of all this chaos—no more being hunted, no more death, and no more Sith haunting your dreams.

Everything seemed so easy in your mind. But when the moment arrived, you found yourself hesitating.

Your clear blue eyes gazed down at the large figure lying on the floor. Qimir's face was growing paler by the moment. His eyes closed in unconsciousness. His body was riddled with wounds, and his clothes were soaked with blood that had darkened to a deep crimson. At a glance, it was hard to tell if he was even breathing, but deep down, you knew he wasn't going to die—not today.

And yet, the sight of him had a greater impact on you than you'd expected.

You clenched your fists so tightly that your nails dug into your palms, the pain sinking deep into your thoughts. A voice from your conscience whispered accusations, telling you this was all your fault. You might not have wielded the knife against him, but you allowed this to happen. You were part of what led him to this fate.

You quickly shook your head, trying to banish the nagging thoughts. You had no reason to feel guilty about Qimir. He was a bounty hunter, after all. He had captured you and imprisoned you, all for the sake of a reward. He was just as selfish as you. You don't need to care about him at all.

You tried—really tried—to convince yourself of that. You tried to force yourself to walk away while you still had the chance.

But in the end, you found yourself right back where you started. Back where Qimir's body lay unconscious, injured, and vulnerable, as if he could die at any moment.

“Damn it!” You curse under your breath, frustration gnawing at you as you kneel down, gathering all your strength to lift him off the ground, not caring that his blood is staining you all over.

You pulled his arm over your shoulder, struggling greatly as Qimir was much bigger than you. But you were determined to drag him through the rain and onto the ship as quickly as possible before anyone else stumbled upon you and the bodies of the criminals.

You knew you were getting yourself into trouble. You knew that well.

But this time, to hell with fate.

“How long am I unconscious?”

Qimir’s question makes you frown, your eyes drifting for a moment in thought. “About a week, I guess. I didn’t count.” You shake your head before focusing on examining the large wound on his abdomen again. “Don’t move. Do you want to tear your wound open again?” you scold him firmly, pushing gently against his chest as he attempts to sit up suddenly.

Qimir complies, though he feels somewhat bored. It has been three days since he regained consciousness, but he remains confined to the hard bed of his ship, with you attending to his every need—cooking for him, applying medicine, and wiping him down. You do all this without a single complaint.

In truth, the wound is minor for him. He could heal himself completely right now if he wants to, but he doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention from you. Moreover, deep down, he enjoys your care and attention. With this thought, enduring another few days of lying still isn’t so bad.

Qimir watches as you move closer, close enough that he can smell the faint scent of sandalwood from you. It is a strangely calming scent. You place your hand on his abdomen, near his wound, your fingers carefully tracking along the shape of his muscles. Your face looks worried as you look up at him. “Does it still hurt?”

Not at all, he thinks, but chooses to answer the opposite. “It hurts.”

You lower your eyes, trying to ignore Qimir’s gaze that has been fixed on you constantly since he fully regained consciousness. You reach for the Bacta spray, telling him, “Just bear with the pain for a bit, okay?” Then you spray the healing substance on his wound. The blue liquid covers all the damaged areas on his skin, rapidly regenerating new flesh.

The bacta healing process is quite painful for a large wound like this. However, Qimir’s expression doesn’t change one bit.

After finishing dressing the wound, you are about to move away, but Qimir grabs your arm, holding you in place.

“Why did you save me?”

You hesitate, taken aback. Even though you knew he would eventually ask this question, you are momentarily speechless.

You had previously tried to come up with a hundred reasons to answer this question for yourself, but no matter how much you pondered, none of the answers seemed entirely correct.

Even now, you still don’t understand yourself. Why?

Why are you still standing here? Why haven’t you just left him?

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, pretending to busy yourself with putting the medical supplies back into the box, avoiding his gaze. “I just didn’t want to see you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like...” You close your eyes, and even with your eyes closed, you can still feel Qimir’s intense gaze. This time, it holds more than just curiosity. There is something in his eyes that makes your heart waver and tremble. “I didn’t want to see you hurt,” you say, opening your eyes, but you still don’t turn to face him.

Qimir notices your nervousness, which you can’t hide. He can tell you are speaking the truth, not lying.

He chuckles at your reaction before playfully tugging at your hand, pulling you closer until you are almost breathing on each other’s necks. You stiffen, your face flushing lightly, but you don’t pull away or push him off.

“You are worried about me?” His voice is low but not threatening. On the contrary, you think it sounds oddly seductive.

You bite your lip hard, refusing to answer his question. You’d rather die than admit you are worried about him because you know that if you do, he’ll start to get cocky. You don’t want to boost his already towering ego any further.

Qimir seems unwilling to give up his intentions. He raises his hand to cup your face, gently forcing you to look at him again. As your eyes lock with his, your breath quickens involuntarily. It is the first time you are this close to someone, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body and see all the details you have only observed from afar before—his collarbones, his sharp jawline, and his eyes...

You notice that Qimir’s eyes are pitch black, devoid of any other color, as if nothing exists within them but an empty darkness.

Strangely, you think Qimir makes that black color look captivating.

Your heart pounds erratically as he leans in closer, his nose almost touching yours. For a moment, you think he might kiss you, but instead, Qimir simply tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You know, you don’t have to hide yourself when you’re with me,” Qimir whispers, his fingers tracing your cheek slowly. The warmth of his touch lingers long after he has pulled away.

You blink, momentarily lost in a trance. As reality rushes back, you step back as if you have touched something scalding. Without a word, you quickly make your way out of his room, almost running in your haste.

Yet, even then, you can still feel Qimir’s dark eyes following your every move, watching you until you vanish from sight.

Swallowing hard, you place your hands over your chest, hoping to calm your racing heart. With each passing day, it becomes more apparent that Qimir’s presence is disturbing your thoughts and emotions deeply. The only solution seems to be distancing yourself from him before things go too far.

But it is impossible for you to stay away from him. No matter where you go, his presence, his scent, his gaze, and his voice always manage to find you.

And you know well that, deep down, you don’t want to leave him either.

[findmeinthefallair]

The contrast is so poignant when it comes to Belos isolating Hunter for years and instilling the fear of wild magic, versus Hunter's future in carving palismen to connect with nature and with others.

We have his signature gloves as part of all his outfits before he went to the human realm, representative of that isolation and fear: Belos wanting to keep 'Caleb' to himself, wanting to prevent Hunter from forging connections and thus finding freedom. The gloves come off once Hunter has room to create and experiment and explore.

During the many many months in between him beginning to learn the palismen-carving craft and us seeing him mastering it in the epilogue, there would've been many setbacks. Many cuts and splinters via mistakes (thus, more wounds and scars...small, but numerous) and bandages on his hands, like what happened with the sewing needle. Thus, many times when he was reminded of what happened with his best friend. I can imagine that on the more difficult days of learning under Dell, remorse and horrible memories eating into him, he'd be more at risk of leaving more cuts because it would be harder to focus. There would've been days where he got close to giving up.

In his arc, this changed everything:

He was found by a free-spirited, strong-willed palisman.

This was when things began to be truly dangerous:

but by then he gathered enough courage to finally question Belos directly.

What a high price to pay. Recovery from trauma is certainly that way in real life too. But it led him on that path towards transformation, towards what he truly wanted.

In his old life, he'd point a staff at others to intimidate, to instill fear, and be Belos's instrument in furthering a cause that Hunter didn't truly support.

In the future, he generously gives palismen to others from the heart, via new creations made with his own hands, to bring more love, connection and wonder into the world. Letting others live out their truth via the bonds forged with their new palismen, the same kind of truth he himself had to fight so hard for.

If we rewind back to what the Bat Queen said in Hunting Palismen:

contrast that with this point in Hunter's arc:

Still blocked and numbed out from fully experiencing the worst thing he had ever been through: being possessed and in that process, slaying Flapjack.

Willow and Gus had just began to reach that vulnerability within him, moving him with their love and support (which is why the anger he had for around 2/3 of For the Future began to subside).

But it wasn't enough.

In the finale, he gets some temporary respite and relief:

But I believe the real gruelling work was to begin beyond this exact point:

More vulnerability ahead, to pave the way for healing.

Putting the scene of him looking at the old Flyer Derby photo (in For the Future) next to the scene where the Bat Queen sums up what palismen are all about...it indicates to me how steep the climb would be to connect with the full range of his emotions and memories, which parallels his development under Dell's mentorship. To bring some beauty out of that horror he has endured. To bring about the conviction that yes, he deserved Flapjack's gift, from Flapjack's sacrifice.

It would've been years before he would confidently and effortlessly rest in the truth of who he really is, and who he would like to be (remember his "Even if I'm not who I'm supposed to be, I like who I am right now" in front of the mirror, right before getting possessed?).

Liberating himself from enmeshment with his violent abuser and that old life, a process he'd have to repeat again and again even beyond Belos's death. Changing that narrative of "supposed to":

into freely choosing the person he would like to become after Flapjack granted him love and literal life. We receive the one clue that he wanted to freely choose, as early as this scene:

When it comes to palismen, we have "emotion" and "conviction" and also the deepest wishes that witches have in their hearts.

For emotion to flow freely, there must be vulnerability, generosity and love: Hunter integrating even the most difficult emotions into his story.

For him to grow into acceptance of his future major role, it would have involved wrestling with many questions to reach that place of conviction.

[planetvries]

"Boy oh boy… The price of freedom is steep.”

[stars-and-inkpots]

could you possibly do one where Tav is on the verge on burnout in Baldur's Gate, from carrying the litteral weight of the world on her shoulders, plus the murders, dismembered clown, emperor chattering away in her mind and just tryingto help every soul in the city... oh, and everyone looking to her for guidance in making difficult life decisions... possibly after advising Wyll not to take the pact and/or one of their companions being abducted

And Gale being there to help her and lift her spirits up (maybe a little guilty about being too wrapped up in his hubris before having a forgiving audience with Mystra to notice how hard it all was on her)

I loved this idea so much because Act 3 really is just so overwhelming and stressful I was excited to write something about it! Thank you!! I hope you enjoy!

The Weight of The World | Gale x Reader

There is so much you have to do. So many things you have to fix and people you have to save. It's starting to become overwhelming carrying so much alone.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Blood and injury, panic attacks (kinda), hurt/comfort, comfort, angst, cuddling, spoilers for Act 3

Ao3 Link: The Weight of The World

Word Count: 1,799

You like helping people. If there is a way you can make someone else’s life easier, you are both eager and happy to do it. It’s in your nature to give. 

But you’re wearing yourself thin. 

It seems that ever since you got off that nautiloid, you’ve been helping people. First, it was the tieflings in the Grove; then the Shadow-Cursed lands; then the refugees on the way to Baldur’s Gate. And along with all of those problems, you’ve also been helping your companions with their own; some with higher stakes than others. 

Wyll is quiet today, and when you notice the look on his face, guilt quickly settles in beside the exhaustion that rests on your shoulders. 

He is free now, but it has come at such a steep price. You were there with him when Mizora appeared to offer him the deal. He had asked you for advice. You told him that he deserved a chance to be free from the infernal chess board he had been forced to play on for so long. 

But what if you were wrong? What if you don’t find a way to save his father? What if Baldur’s Gate is worse off without the duke once everything is done and over with and the dust has settled. What if Wyll ends up blaming you for the death of Ravengard, resenting your decision that was his own to make. 

You’re happy to help… happy to give counsel to your companions when they (so often, it seems) need it, but why should you be the one making the decisions for such things? How can you be expected to decide between Wyll’s freedom and his father’s life? 

You haven’t even begun to prepare for what could lie beyond the walls of Cazador’s palace, but you’re certain it can be nothing short of dreadful. 

Shaking your head, you try to focus on the task at hand. You have potential murder victims you need to find. 

More people that need saving. 

---

Finding the Stormshore Tabernacle after Elminster arrived to tell Gale that Mystra had yet another message for him was only another goal added on the growing list of things you needed to do. This, of course, took a little priority, given how much you could tell it mattered to Gale. 

You brush off the growing exhaustion that hasn’t had a chance to fully dissipate in the wake of so many new problems. 

You stand in front of the statue of Mystra, Gale beside you while the others wait outside. You can feel the magic that flows around it, crackling and humming like an electric current. It is not a feeling that brings you comfort or a sense of calm that one might expect from a god; perhaps that is mainly because of your own opinions of the goddess though. While he does a good job at hiding it, you can tell that Gale’s nerves are beginning to get the better of him. You bring your hand to rest it on his shoulder. 

“Time was I’d have given my right arm for a chance to speak with Mystra again. The left one too. Maybe a knee…” he says quietly, and as much as you want to believe he is exaggerating, you know there is an air of truth to his words. 

“You know you don’t owe her anything, Gale.” You hope he knows that. It’s impossible for you to understand the nuances of their relationship, and you recognise that, but you know that what she had asked of him was cruel and manipulative. 

“Perhaps,” he answers. Then adds, “Her first love was always the weave. At best, I was always a close second.” 

You can’t tell if he’s trying to justify Her actions to you, or simply giving himself a reason for them that hurts less than the idea that she did not truly care for him like he did for Her. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Despite your personal distaste for the goddess, you would accompany him in an instant if it was what he desired.

“As much as I’d prefer not to face her alone, I’m afraid the magic is only able to bring one person through. I’ll only be gone a minute though. Wait for me, please.” His voice shakes only slightly. You would wait for him even if he didn’t ask. 

When he turns to face the statue again, he moves his hand like he’s grasping at something in the air. Then just as quickly, he is gone. 

You wait there anxiously. You wonder if you should have told him not to come here. It was entirely possible that Mystra only asked him to come here so that she could punish him for not following her orders to blow up both himself and the Absolute. It would be another lapse of judgement that would impact only your companion. 

The stress of the week is steadily catching up to you again, pushing itself into the forefront of your mind while you wait for Gale to return. Thankfully, he doesn’t take long. 

Gale reappears in a small flash of shimmering purples. He is smiling, which you assume is a good thing in spite of the general unease the thought of him speaking with the goddess brings. 

He recounts the visit with you while the two of you find the rest of your party outside. 

---

No one says anything when you go straight to your tent after you return to camp, Gale letting go of your hand to give you a moment to yourself. 

Lae’zel is gone, taken by Orin, and being held ransom in the Temple of Bhaal. The memory of the encounter makes you sick to your stomach. 

Lae’zel rounding the corner, bloodied and limping, clutching her side while blood pours out in thick rivulets. Your heart beating so fast that you worry it will stop entirely. Grasping her arm to pull her with you, refusing to leave her behind. The feeling of her flesh shifting under your palm, moving, undulating in that unnatural and revolting way you had come to recognize in the shapechangers you had encountered. You recoiled backwards into Gale, watching in horror as Lae’zel’s form shifted; her neck snapping to the side sharply. Her green skin fading to pale grey. It was never Lae’zel at all, but Orin. 

She cornered you into making a deal with her. You were to return with Gortash’s netherstone, or Lae’zel would be left to bleed out on the temple floor. 

You can imagine Lae’zel’s voice, condemning you for giving in to the Bhaalspawn’s orders. But you know Lae’zel. You know that she is not as unshakeable as she likes to present herself. You know that, wherever she is right now, she is scared. 

You can barely think. Everything feels blurry, the world fraying at the edges of your vision dissolving into a mess of colour and sound. 

You should have noticed. Gortash had warned you. 

You still have so much you need to do. 

How did you let this happen? 

---

Gale waits a few minutes before he follows you to your tent. He waits nervously outside, unsure. 

“Can I come in?” He asks softly. 

“Please,” you answer, and his heart breaks at the roughness of your voice; no doubt from crying and struggling to keep the sobs quiet enough that the rest of the camp wouldn’t hear them. 

Your eyes are tired, fresh tears still flowing freely down your face. 

Gale is terrified too, just like you and so many of the others, but something else weighs heavy on his chest. Guilt, he quickly realises as he looks at you. 

You’ve been dealing with so much, and so much of it alone. You’ve taken their problems and made them your own; you’ve done everything for them. You’ve bore their worries, their concerns, and their mistakes. You’ve had no one to do the same for you. 

“Gale-” you start, but a sob bubbles out of you cutting you off as your shoulders shake. 

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispers into your hair after he quickly gathers you into his arms as he sits beside you. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like he’s protecting you from the world itself. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologise through hiccups against his chest. He only gently shushes you, carding his fingers through your hair. 

“If there is any apologising to be done, it is us to you. You’ve been doing so much for us; carrying our burdens and helping with them. I will admit even I have been far too preoccupied with my own mess that I failed to consider the weight that we’ve put on you.” 

“I should be able to bear it,” you say mournfully. 

“Absolutely not,” Gale objects. “It’s impossible to do that alone. You are only one person. You are not weak because you failed to carry the weight of the world alone.” He sounds so certain, so genuine in everything he says that you know he isn’t merely saying this to comfort you. “Even if you struggled with even the simplest problem, it would be no slight on your abilities.” His words, as reassuring and comforting as they are, bring on yet another wave of tears. He rubs his hands soothingly along your back. 

“You are not weak because of this,” Gale assures you once you’ve mostly stopped crying. 

“Thank you,” you answer after a while. “Thank you.” 

The two of you sit there together. The steady rise and fall of his chest while you lean against him helps calm your racing heart. Gale hums softly, and you relax in his arms. 

“Everything is going to be alright. We’ll do this together,” Gale says, with a finality that leaves no room for disagreement. 

You nod, too exhausted in both body and mind to bother with speech for now. You reach blindly for one of Gale’s hands, holding it tightly and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. You feel him return a kiss of his own to the top of your head. You don’t need to use your words to explain your gratitude for his presence in your life. He understands you all the same. Your love may go unspoken, but never unheard. 

You let yourself relax. The weight of the world may be both figuratively and literally on your shoulders, but your companions can help you hold it. 

Yes, you think to yourself as Gale moves you both to lay down on the bedroll, everything will be alright. It will be difficult, but you will be fine. And at least, in his arms, you can pretend that everything will be fine for now. You have to hold onto the hope that everything will be fine.

[yaytheboop]

I absolutely support paying artists and supporting creators, and seeing the quality of Watcher's videos especially lately I've understood that it wouldn't be sustainable for a while now. I will never say that I expect anyone to come out with so much high-quality content so regularly without being financially compensated for it.

That being said, I think the way they've gone about this has just not been the smartest. First off by doing this so suddenly with no warning, and also having a big countdown to it when it's actually quite a sad thing to see them go. Like it felt like they were counting down to a party but then it was a funeral that took place instead, and even the mood of the video they put out was quite somber. I think it put the wrong expectations in fans (me included), which just made the shock even bigger than it needed to be (especially for this sort of announcement).

I think they actually were quite respectful of the fact that people wouldn't be able to continue to follow them over to WatcherTV, but the comment about "making it affordable so everyone could subscribe to their plan" and then it being $60 a year was kind of insulting. It would have been better if they'd been realistic about it and said that they understood that it might be a steep price for some, but that they hoped it would be affordable for some of their subscribers while still giving them the chance to produce high-quality content or something along those lines.

What I don't understand however is how this is supposed to be sustainable in the long run? Because if I'm someone who's scrolling Youtube and comes across one of their old videos, I'll watch them all there. If I'm scrolling and come across one of their newer videos, and see that the rest of those videos are behind a paywall, then I'm gonna continue to scroll, I won't pay $60 to watch someone I previously didn't really know.

I don't know businesses, especially businesses in creative fields, and definitely not USAmerican businesses in creative fields, so I'm not sure how this would work financially. However, I think there's one of two things they could have done to make it easier for us as fans to transition, as well as still earn them some of that extra revenue (to start with):

They could add a free subscription with ads on their streaming service. I don't know how easy that is, getting sponsors and incorporating pop-up ads on a service, but that's an option.

They could have started out by putting some of their bigger projects on the service, but still regularly making content on Youtube that was not as produced or financially

I think having their own streaming platform is a good idea because then they won't be bound by Youtube's restrictions and have more creative freedom, as well as the whole economic side of this. The way they're executing it however is just alienating and frankly a bit insulting to the fans who have been with them for so long and supported them through so much and now suddenly can't watch anything new anymore with barely any warning.

Yeah, this became very long but I had some thoughts that I just needed to air.

[citrus-writing]

yandere grell

Delusional, clingy, obsessive 

She’s obsessed with a lover’s suicide! (that’s canon) but since she cant die, that’s on you. She knows you’ll come back as a reaper, and can't wait to spend all of eternity with you, at your side. Your beauty and grace is sure to fade with age, and she just wants to preserve you as you are. 

Despite this, she wants to enjoy your time as a human. You have so much potential, still being alive and all. She’s so interested in the beauty of being human, being able to change and experience the world not as an onlooker but as an active part of it. 

But once that’s worn off, you will be expected to punch your own ticket, so to say. While you’re still alive, anything can happen to you, and grell wont risk that. Anyone could hurt you, kill you even, and if that happens there’s no getting you back. 

You can earn some serious points by wearing red! Grell wont demand you let her pick your outfits, but would love it if you wanted to match or get her opinions. She also would love to paint your nails 

Her love for you is proclaimed loudly and often, and you would be smart not to fight this. Grell has waited years for a lover like you, and will never let you go now that she has you. Everyone will know your hers. Everyone will know to stay away. 

She’ll often resort to physical threats and intimidation (she’d never actually kill you, but you don't know that). Eventually, the revving of a chainsaw is all it takes for your blood to run cold. 

She’s pretty delusional about your and your relationship, so you have a surprising amount of freedom in some departments. For example, if you're not constantly showing affection, you're ‘shy’ and ‘cute’. If you fight back, you're ‘a tease’ and ‘playing hard to get’. Either way, you're just as in love as she is. 

Surprisingly, she’s not a bad yandere to have. If you're even a little bit compliant, she’ll assume you love her and she’ll be happy. Even the occasional compliment or smile can keep her satisfied for days. 

Her vision of the future is pretty vague other than: 1. You kill yourself and become a reaper. 2. You marry her. Other than that, if she’s with you, you can sort of choose how things go. Anything you want she’ll make happen, no price too steep for love, afterall.