#shifting ambiences

[st-agatha-city]

Babe wake up new St. Agatha immersive ambient mixes just dropped.

[blxkstar]

ᴀʀʀᴀᴋɪꜱ

"My planet, Arrakis, is so beautiful when the sun is low. Rolling over the sands, you can see spice in the air." I made a playlist for the Arrakis. Please check it out!

Arrakis teaches the attitude of the knife - chopping off what's incomplete and saying: 'Now, it's complete because it's ended here"

I serve only one master. His name is Shai-Hulud.

[alyinreality]

I have no idea if it would be of interest but I have few hogwarts inspired ambience’s I made for myself to listen to but I may upload them to youtube?

so far I’ve done the gryffindor common room (listening to that right now, I love a good crackling fire), the weasley’s home, and the owlery? I don’t really know why I did that but I did.

anyways would it be of interest to anyone? I could also be open to requests :)

[soulcandi]

avatar lovers, shifters, fanfic writers, and dreamers:

i have fallen into the rabbit hole of crafting specific instrumental playlists for my avatar fics and wanted to share them here <3 more to come

tsam tìrol

[n] war song. music to be played when sending war parties off to battle and welcoming home heroes. (heavy drums, chanting, intense vibes).

ftxozä fpi toruk makto

[p.n] celebration of toruk makto. annual regional festival held in the honor of jake'sully. (upbeat dance, choral chanting, fast and rhythmic).

[nissakii]

POV: You stand outside the massive walls that protect humanity, the weight of your mission heavy on your shoulders. The air is thick with tension, but the tranquil sounds of the surrounding forest and the distant calls of birds provide a stark contrast. As you scan the horizon, you see the figure of Captain Levi approaching, his sharp eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger. His presence is both calming and commanding, and with a curt nod, he acknowledges you, ready to face whatever lies beyond the walls together. Into the vast forest of uncertainty...

[meltingangels]

When you have to drive through the Blood Kelp zone:

[dragonmaw]

Extreme Evolution: Drive to Divinity (2024)

How to recommend a game you think nobody will play? Will be thinking about this one for a long time. A lot more accessible than it appears (unless you have photosensitive epilepsy).

[fulokis]

Can feel the kotor and Swtor brain rot creeping back in

[bitchimasnake-sss]

☆ oliver aiku vs. his ex!

synopsis: oliver aiku was always a ladies' man. a sadistic one, at that. he enjoyed playing with emotions, enjoyed being in control, enjoyed ruining women at the whims of his heart and dick. so, when he decides he's had enough of his cheerleader!gf and breaks up... why does she not look upset? in fact, why is she brushing him off, acting like he didn't mean shit to her?? huh? guess it's upto him to remind you just what a wonderful boyfriend he is. pairing: pro soccer player!oliver aiku x cheerleader!gf cw: hate-sex. marathon sex. making a sex tape. nsfw includes: fingering, penetration, creampie, oliver being a bitch and lowkey toxic. NOT PROOFREAD. wc: 2.9k

oliver aiku wasn't an actor by profession. no, he was a soccer player. the entire world knew that by now, you knew that by now.

yet the way he had clasped his hand — intertwining his digits — and looked at you with his pretty face all furrowed, you may as well given him an oscar for best actor.

"it hurts me to do this. it really fuckin' does." oliver nodded, splaying his large palm against his muscled chest, "but, i'm afraid it's just not working out between us."

you almost wanted to laugh in his face.

so, this is why he had booked a reservation at the same restaurant he had asked you out at just two months prior.

you could recall that night as if it was yesterday. the winds were unforgiving as you had sat on the same table in the same balcony area. that night, his heterochrome eyes were locked in on yours and he smiled so softly when he asked you out. words candied, so awfully, awfully sweet: "'s you and me, baby. forever."

how funny that forever lasted 2 month and 6 days.

now, the same dim overhead lighting panted the man in a subtle glow, hiding his dark intentions just as well as it hid the dips and curves of his facial features.

he reached for your hand on the table, methodically rubbing circles into your skin as his eyes bore into yours. he repeated, "you get me, right, baby?"

you almost did laugh in his face.

stifling your amusement under the guise of sadness, you nodded, "i understand it all, oliver. all too well, at that."

you knew oliver was a sadistic man, a man that replaced women with the flick of his fingers. something in him got off at their spluttering breaths, their wide eyes as they tried to ask him questions: but why? why do you want to break-up? oliver, why? why, why, why?

too bad you weren't one of those girls at oliver aiku's feet.

maybe he had forgotten that you had known him for ages, that you were well-versed with his tactics — being the captain of the national japanese cheerleading team. maybe he had forgotten that you knew what kind of man he was long before he started chasing after you. and maybe he had forgotten that if he tried to ruin you, you'd ruin him thrice over.

covering his larger palm with yours much smaller ones, you leaned forward. the swell of your tits was a sight to see, your cleavage so delicious against that low-cut dress but it was your words that made oliver aiku question his sanity, "i really get you, oli. with your career and mine, it's just so hard to make this work. i was gonna suggest the same. we should really break up."

what?

whatever flickers of amusement were left in his heterochrome eyes turn to ashes, sinking within his tanned skin as he physically froze. his eyes took you in, words barely pushing past his lips, "what?"

"you're right." you patted his hand sympathetically, "we should break-up, baby."

the two of you sat in silence, basking each-other in as the chatter in the background faded off. suddenly, the sensual ambience of the restaurant turned into one of stark... confusion...?

the man opened his mouth, pretty lips parting before closing again, and again, and again like a goddamn fish out of water.

"right. right." the man finally breathed out, shifting backwards in his seat and nodding, "i'm glad we both agree then."

"thanks for the meal, oliver." you smiled, pulling your hands back to your lap. your posture straightened, eyes tangling against his in such a cruel dance. "i'm so glad we could end this mutually."

"of course," the man rasped, trying to mask his disappointment at your level-headed tone.

why weren't you in shambles yet?

his lips wobbled as they fell into a smile, and the gesture left some sort of sick, twisted satisfaction in your gut.

oliver grit out, "i'm glad too."

that was two weeks ago, and you had walked away from the restaurant with heart well and intact. oliver aiku was a language you were well-versed in, after all. he was destruction, ruination, he was everything you should stay away from.

but now... the real question was: if oliver aiku was soo glad that you broke up, then why was he running towards you after winning the championship quarter-finals?

sweat dripped off the planes of his cheeks, down his jaw and into his jersey. he cleared his throat, completely ignoring your teammate who had been talking to you seconds prior. his eyes zeroed in on you, "oh, didn't see you there."

the man huffed, eyeing you in your tight-fitting uniform. the man in question smirked, keeping up with his own nonchalant attitude, "how ya doin', sweets?"

"didn't see me?" you repeated with a jump in your brows, "you didn't see the cheer team throughout the match? have you lost your vision, aiku? or worse, your mind?"

"oh? have i?" the slight, seductive lilt in his voice never gave up and you stared daggers at him, "what is it, aiku?"

"how was that, huh?"

"how was what?"

"my... play? the game?" the man slowed his speech down as if you were not comprehending him thoroughly.

"good, i guess?" you shrugged, still turned towards the teammate that seemed to sense the tension between you two. as if on cue, she left you to alone. walking away with the signature ponytail swaying with each graceful step.

you dragged your gaze back to the man and waited for him to spill. and spill, he did.

"i was thinking about the break-up." he finally fessed, a hand flying up to tame his unruly hair, "and i think it may have been a mistake."

a smirk threatened to break out on your lips but being a woman of class, you cooed instead, "but i do think it was the right decision. i don't think we should get back together, oli."

"what? f'real?" he panted, wiping a hand to get rid of the sweat that was cascading down his forehead.

you just hummed.

"what? jus' asking." and he grinned — unabashed, uncaring that the whole world might make when they see his crazed expression, "dont'cha miss me? be honest. don't you miss my dick? bet i can get you to come back with just an one night sta—"

"—nah, you're too tiny, aiku. it won't get the work done."

of course, the former captain didn't lose his cool. instead, he laughed — the kind that made your skin crawl and sent a violent, hot throb down to your core. his heterochrome eyes narrowed in some sort of evil satisfaction and he dragged his hand over his stubble so, so slowly.

he finally leaned in, "you want me to ruin you? ya wanna gamble your life like that?"

"can you?" you paused, purposefully looking at him with those doe-eyes, "can you 'ruin me', oliver?"

"hah." he pulled back, giving you an easy smile, "trying to push all my buttons? you have no idea how this'll end for you."

you nodded, "you think you'd scare me, aiku?"

"baby..." his voice was a drawl, words so well-pronounced, "i'd do you worse than that."

maybe you forgot that if you tried to ruin oliver aiku thrice over, he would go for a nasty total of four times instead.

"oli— a-aiku." your breath stuttered as his silhouette became blurry. hot tears pricked at your lash-line as he bullied his digits deeper and deeper into your cunt once more.

his pace was inhumane, fingers still playing against your gummy walls till he found the spot that was your kryptonite. and then, he kept assaulting that very spot over and over again. over n' over n' over again till your back arched and moans tore out of your throat so pathetically.

"i can't. i can't. ca-can't." you babbled — fucked so dumb on his thick fingers — as he tried to pull your fourth orgasm out of you, "a-aiku."

"ah." he hummed, his fingers fucking into you so, so mean. his pace slowed only so that you could focus on his rough voice, "tch, look right here."

his digits moved with purpose, their purpose being your ruination. and you lost yourself in the feeling of your stomach tightening, another violent orgasm trying to pry itself out of your aching body.

you were pulled into reality with a harsh squeeze of your cheeks. your teary eyes widened, wobbling lips falling into a forced pout as oliver repeated himself, "look into the fuckin' camera, doll."

"o-okay." your eyes dragged upwards from man to the tripod set at the edge of the bed. your shaky vision took in the metallic luster of his phone and you tried to focus.

"okay," he rasped, "now tell 'em how good i'm fucking ya." he cut himself off with a laugh, "ah, wait i haven't even fucked you yet and you're still so fucked out, isn't it?"

"no-oh." a harsh slap to your throbbing clit had your head rolling backwards. oliver hummed, "i asked you to speak up," another harsh slap had you gasping, "so, speak the fuck up."

"i-" your voice wavered pathetically, eyes barely focused on the camera that was perched a few meters apart, "i fuckin' hate oliver aiku."

"oh?" his amused laugh hit your core, hot breath playing with your overstimulated cunt. his fingers steadied, the impending orgasm that was just now knocking at your door dissipated with each drawled out second.

"oh?" he laughed again, this time slowly pulling his fingers out, "you hate me?"

"i- i do." you almost cringed at the weak resolve in your voice, and cringed once again as you failed to meet his eyes. oliver stared daggers at you, pushing his pretty fingers past his hungry lips to finally taste you.

"hmm," he hummed against his digits, popping them out lewdly, "you taste so fuckin' sweet but you're a mean, lil' thing. aren't ya?"

"yeah, i am. why?" as your body finally caught a break from his unyielding acts, your voice grew firmer, "are you having a tough time handling me?"

"you're so cute." the soccer player raised himself upwards and caged you in under him, muscled back rippling with each step forward. his fingers hooked under your chin, voice so soft, "why do you hate me?"

the very next second, he was off you. clad only in his boxers, oliver aiku carried himself to his phone and removed it off the tripod. bringing the device to you, he started a new video, "how about you tell all the reasons you hate me to the camera?"

"wh-huh?"

the phone was handed over into your shaking hands and you stared at your flushed face in the front camera as the camera kept on recording. your eye makeup was a mess, highlighter and blush smudged as lipstick dragged off of your lips to your chin.

"go on." oliver dragged his boxers down and you to his lap. with one smooth motion, his achingly hard cock was inside your abused cunt.

"o-li-ver." his words were mere syllables as your eyes clasped shut. his hips rutted upwards, his strong hands wrapping around your waist as he kept fucking into you. the mushroom tip dragging so deliciously against your g-spot.

"go on," he grit, words a desperate command, "tell the camera w-why you hate me, doll."

"first, you're so me-mean sometimes." you caught your face contorting into pleasure as oliver kept up with his pace.

"am i?"

"mhm." you nodded, one hand shakily clasping the camera and another wrapping around his shoulders to stablize yourself. he dragged his lips down your jaw, his stubble a familiar scratch against your skin, "what else?"

"you keep flirt—ingh ah, ah, ah wi—with other women, oli." he inhaled your scent, obscenely licking at the thin layer of perspiration on your neck, "and?"

"and you're s-sho," your words slurred at his sudden hard thrust within you, "pretentious."

he smiled against your skin, words so scratchy as your velvety walls milked him to his demise, "using big words now, pretty?"

your eyes met his in a lewd, charged dance. the long-forgotten video still getting filmed in the background as he captured your lips in a messy kiss; all teeth and spit and sins.

"'m not dumb like ya," you breathed against his kiss-bitten lips for a bare second before your lips clashed against his again. a strong hand travelled up your spine, the touch so intimate as he pounded his cock up into your cervix.

"o-oli," your hand shook, another wrapping around him as your hardened nipples rubbed against his hard, muscled body, "'m gonna cum."

"not yet." the man babbled, "not yet. not yet. finish telling the camera why you hate me."

"i ha-te you." you nodded, eyes drooping dangerously as you tried to speak into the phone, "i hate oli 'cause he only da-dated me to... fuck, oli. he dated me jus' to break up."

"did you not wanna break up?" the man cooed, though the undertones of his voice revealed the dark satisfaction of your admission, "ya said ya wanted it."

"i— i did."

"an' now?" his eyes bore into your face, words so desperate that they dangled at the edge of insanity, "say you love me."

your eyes widened, sanity clearing only for a moment to deny his hurling accusations, "i don't."

a harsh roll of his hips had your eyes rolling back again, had your manicured nails sinking into his tanned skin and had your jaw slacking open just for his to kiss you senseless.

"say it." he mumbled against your lips, drunk on you, "jus' say it. say y-you love me, doll."

you found yourself losing your senses as he fucked into you with one harsh rut and then another, and another. a hand snaked lazily between your writhing, sweaty bodies to play against you long-neglected clit, "c'mon. spill, doll."

"i do." you nodded finally, lips wettened by your crazed kisses and body molding to his corrupt touches, "i love you, oli."

"good girl." he smiled against your glossed lips, "say you want me back."

you repeated after him, a mindless husk of a woman at his disposition, "i wan' you ba-ah fuck 'm gonna cum."

"say it."

"i wantyouback." your words mushed together as you finally felt your orgasm clash against your own body. your thighs shook, the limbs closing tightly against his well-defined waist and his phone dropped from your limp grasp onto the luxurious bed.

"good girl, jus' like that." oliver nodded, his words so very dark as you finally fell limp against his body. his hand methodically soothed you, rubbing patterns into your back as he fucked his erection right into your overstimulated core.

heavy breaths stuttered out of your used body, eyes clasping shut at the feel of his warmth against your entire skin and the mess he was making against your puffy folds.

"fuuuck." his hips came to a stutter, arms growing tighter against your ribcage as the man emptied himself within your inviting, plush cunt with a pornographic moan, "fuckin' hell, i forgot just how good you feel like this."

the sticky, white-ish liquid dribbled past your fluttering cunt and pooled within you two. oliver pushed you a mere inches away to bring his hands to your face. as his heterochrome eyes burned into yours, the warmth from his palm seemed to seep into your cold cheek... but now, his touch felt too hot, as if it would char you.

oliver aiku gave you a smile — a dangerous one — and the dimple in his cheek came alive, "i'm so happy we're back together, baby."

wait, what???

but before you could question him, before you could take a pause and wonder aloud, his syrupy lips caught yours and he shushed you, "shh, 's okay. jus' go to sleep, baby. i'll clean you up, okay?"

"but oli—"

"—baby." his words were gentle, actions so soft as he laid you down on the bed and kissed your forehead, "just sleep, doll. we can talk tomorrow, right?"

and you nodded. how could you not as he dragged his strong palms up and down your sore body and mumbled sweet nothings into the pliant, night air?

the next morning, as the sun shone past his glass windows and onto your sleepy face, you saw a half-dressed oliver hovering on the side of the bed.

"what?" you asked lazily, rubbing the sleep off of your eyes. half aware that you were still in his bed, you stared at him confused.

"what?" he repeated with a dopey smile.

"what'dyou want?" your words slurred, the morning voice creeping in within the syllables.

"nothing." oliver grinned, bending down to boop your nose with his index, "jus' wanted to say goodmorning to my beautiful girlfriend."

your eyes widened, body shooting up so fast that your forehead collided against his dense head, "—ouCH!"

"jesus," the man staggered, rubbing the area you had assaulted with his index and middle finger, "what?!"

"you were serious about that?!"

"you were not?" he quipped, and you shook your head as if he was the insane one, "obviously not."

"ah," oliver aiku nodded — as if in a deep thought — before looking down at you. flickers of amusement swam in his irises, lips lopsided and twisted as he looked at you as if you were his personal lab rat, "well, too bad we're back together now, doll."

what the fuck.

a/n: OLIVER AIKU THE MAN YOU AREEE. I LOVE TO HATE YOU. MY CRINGEFAIL HUSBAND FOREVER MWUAH MWUAH. tagging: @moodswing101 @actuallynarii @5hoe1 @mininji @scara-simp69 @heartfeltstarry @keimorii because like why, not?

[orcasoul]

The Plus One

Summery: You and Pedro have been in a relationship for a while but for some reason he'd stopped inviting you to social events. Has he grown tired of you...?

Warnings: swearing, angst (because I liiive for it!), mental health issues, low self esteem from reader, caring Pedro, fluff, use of Y/N.

This is inspired by the video of Pedro dancing his arse off at Sarah Paulsons 50th birthday party. God bless this man for randomly inspiring us when he's not even trying to lol.

Word Count: 3,516

It's a quiet evening at home. The living room fireplace is softy blazing, the crackling red and orange flames along with the Christmas tree lights and low lamp light bathes the room in a reposeful ambience. You're snuggled up on the settee in your favourite fluffy Oodie, sipping a hot chocolate as you finish reading a Christmas rom com by one of your favourite authors. And while this is something that usually helps you to unwind at the end of the day, you can't seem to shift that gutting feeling deep down in your stomach. You should have been with Pedro tonight at Sarah's party instead of here alone. With the book finished you're about to check Kindle for your next read but before opening the app, you'd decided to check your notifications on facebook.

Now you wish you hadn't. Of course the first thing to pop up would be a video of Pedro having the time of his life at the party. Not that that is the real issue here. You're not the controlling or possessive type who wants to keep their partner all for yourself and deny them any kind of social life; quite the opposit, in fact. The thing that really hurts, that makes your heart physically ache is that you're never included in Pedro's social events anymore. You would have loved to have been his date to Sarah's party and make memories with him like normal couples do. You've met Sarah on several occasions and the two of you had always got along really well, so why would he rather go alone than bring you?

You've been together for six months now, so it's not like you're in the early stages where you're both yet to meet the others' family and friends. It just doesn't make sense. You had attended a few ceremonies and promotional events for Pedro's movies with him before now and even though they had been quite intense environments to be in, you were just thrilled to be there with him, to support him and show the world how proud you are of him. And you'd like to think that you were adept at hiding the effects that your social anxiety had on you during these occasions. You'd smile, engage in chit chat and if it became too overwhelming you'd always secretly resort to your special coping technique to calm your nerves; stroking slow circles on the palm of your hand.

But it had been months since you'd last attended any events with him and as time goes on it just hurts more and more. You'd hoped time would have made it easier to accept, but truthfully it makes you feel abandoned, insignificant, like you don't belong in his world. Is that it? Is he embarrassed by you? It's true you're both from very different worlds, having met through friends of friends and not through working together in the film industry. Sometimes you still can't understand why he'd chose to be with a nobody like you when he could literally have any woman he wanted. As your mind continues to spiral, taking you to dark places, tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

To love him so much, only to feel it's not enough for him to want you around is... soul crushing. You'd been trying for so long to ignore that niggling little voice in the back of your mind; the one telling you that you aren't good enough for him and there has been times when you'd been able to mute it, especially when you're together and he looks at you with pure adoration in his eyes, or the times he would come home to LA between filming, even if it was just for a couple of days to see you or if he couldn't make it he'd fly you out to the set. No matter what he always made time for your relationship, but only out of the public eye. Pedro has always been a private person, especially when it comes to romantic involvements, but it feels like he's trying to hide you.

And now, this latest video has turned that niggling little voice into a full on megaphone, screaming an endless barrage of ugly truths at you; you're not enough for him. He's bored of you. You're an embarrassment, a stone around his neck. It was only a matter of time. You clutch at your chest as your heart shatters into a thousand pieces, sobs wracking your body. It's over! How could you have not seen it sooner?! He doesn't need you in his life. He's bloody Pedro Pascal for heavens' sake.

You were a delusional fool to ever believe you had anything to offer him. Maybe this is his way of subtly telling you it wasn't working for him anymore. Maybe he'd hoped showing you the stark differences between you both would have made you realise it couldn't continue, and being the kind and gentle man he is, he didn't want to outright dump you and hurt you, so this was the best strategy.

Now your sorrow is tinged with anger. If he wanted to end it all this time he damn well should have had the balls to tell you instead of dragging it out. So, it's down to you now; if he won't do it, you'll have to. Your tablet screen is now shining with your tears. You wipe it dry with your sleeve and throw it down beside you, Knidle well and truly forgotton. Fluffing up a cushion, you curl up on the settee while your broken heart mourns and weeps.

As the party came to an end Pedro couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He'd had a great time and wouldn't have missed one of his best friends' milestone birthdays for the world, but he missed you like hell tonight. He especially felt the sting of your absence when he would see couples dancing or sitting together, hand in hand or snuggling up. He feels selfish, but he wishes you could have been here tonight. And not just tonight, but to all his recent public appearances like the premiers for The Wild Robot and Gladiator 2, but he won't put you through that again.

The guilt still eats away at him when he casts his mind back to the last couple of times you'd attended high profile events with him, even low key and private ones where there isn't a constant blinding flash of cameras. He knows of your struggles with your mental health, in particular with social anxiety (something he can absolutely relate to) and even through your obvious facade he could see what the pressure was doing to you, often feeling a slight tremble in your hand while laced with his. He could see the difference between your forced smile and your genuine smile; the one that would make your eyes sparkle and he could lose himself in them completely.

But the worst thing was when you start rubbing the palm of your hand over and over when you'd thought he wasn't watching. He knew then it was all becoming too much for you and that's when he'd decided that he won't be selfish anymore, that he had to prioritise your well being and comfort before his own and if that meant attending ceremonies and large gatherings alone, so be it. Of course, he always felt incomplete without you at his side, but your needs far outweigh his own as far as he's concerned. Knowing he can shield you from even a fraction of discomfort makes the sacrifice worth it.

After slipping into his jacket, Pedro found Sarah at the front door of her house, waving some guests off. Wrapping her in a big hug, he said, "Happy birthday again, sweetie and thanks for inviting me." Sarah returned the hug. "I'm so glad you came, but I missed seeing Y/N tonight. How is she?" Pedro couldn't hold back the grin that broke out across his face at the mention of your name. "She's great. I wanted to bring her tonight, but I think the crowd would have been too much for her." Sarah smiled endearingly at her friend. "You really do love her, don't you?" Pedro chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh no reason..." she smirked. " Only that I've never seen you so smitten and protective over any other woman in all the years I've known you. You've got it bad." Pedro rolled his eyes, playfully. "Yeah, I guess I do." "So, what are you waiting for?" Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about?" Pedro asked, knowing exactly what she meant. "You've been carrying that ring around with you for weeks now and still haven't asked her. What's holding you back?" Pedro shifted uncomfortably, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Just worried about her, that's all. The moment word gets out of an engagement, paparazzi will be circling like vultures. I don't just want her overwhelmed." "I think you underestimate her," Sarah began, "I don't think she'd ever let her anxiety get in the way of being with you. It's obvious how much she loves you. In fact when I'm around you two for too long, the sweetness gives me temporary diabetes." Pedro let out a deep belly laugh at that, drawing one from Sarah in return.

"Just do it..." she urged, gently. "You know she'll say yes." Pedro smiled and nodded, "I know." "Well..." Sarah yawned, "Get out of here. I'm fifty now and need my beauty sleep." She gave Pedro another hug. "So, I'll see you and Y/N for lunch next week?" "Sure," Pedro replied, "Goodnight, sweetie." He waved as he walked to his car. "Night," Sarah called out before closing the door.

Settling in his car, Pedro connected his phone to the car speaker and rang your phone. He promised he'd call after the party to say goodnight and couldn't wait to hear your voice. But as soon as you answered, he knew something was wrong. "Hey baby, everything okay?" he asked, worridly. His worry only increased when you cleared your throat, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. "Yeah um... I'm fine." You most definitely aren't fine! "You're a shit liar, you know that?" Pedro says, lightheartedly to help put you at ease. Now his tone turns more serious. "Tell me what's wrong." Silence... "Y/N? You're starting to scare me now." "I told you I'm fine. I'm just... tired." You tried to sound convincing but failed, spectacularly.

"I'm coming over -" "No!" Your abrupt outburst silenced Pedro. You've never turned him away in all the months you've been together. "It's... uh... it's late. You should just get home safe." Pedro sighed. "I know something's wrong and if you won't tell me on the phone I'm coming over." At that, you burst into tears. A pang shot straight through Pedro's heart at the sound of you crying. "Hey, baby, talk to me!" he pled. "What happened?" In between the the sniffling your voice became strained. "I didn't want to do this over the phone." Pedro suddenly had a sinking feeling in his gut, not liking the tone of this conversation. "Do what?" he asked, hesitantly. "Its..." sniffle, "It's over."

If Pedro hadn't already been sitting in the car his legs would have given out on him! "W- what?!" he stuttered in disbelief. "What do you mean it's over?!" His hands gripped the steering wheel for support. Where the fuck did this come from all of a sudden?! "Please..." you whispered, sounding mentally drained. "Don't pretend you didn't know this was coming. If you don't want me anymore you should have said something sooner." Pdero jerked his head back, blinking in shock. "What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?" You are full on sobbing now, your words just an unintelligible jumble. "I'm coming over, right now!" "No, please-" "I'm coming over!" he cut you off bluntly and hung up the phone.

His hands shook as he started up the engine and it took all of his willpower to not floor it to your house. Getting pulled over for speeding is the last thing he needs right now. The whole way over, his mind was a frantic mess. What could have happened between the last time he saw you (which was only yesterday) and now? Did he say something? Do something? When he got to your house, he practically flew from the car, his fist pounding on your front door almost as hard as his heart was pounding behind his ribs. "Baby open up, please. I'm not leaving until you talk to me." A few moments later the door cracked open and there you stood, puffy eyed and blotchy faced. Your lips had swollen and your nose shone red from crying.

Pedro could have cried himself from the state you're in. Without a second thought he pushed his way through the door and swept you into his arms, cupping the back of your head to his chest. To his relief, instead of pushing him away, you encircled your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He reached back to close the door behind him, then guided you to the setee, sitting beside you. "Now, what's all this about, hmm? I know this isn't what you really want." You shook your head, a small humourless laugh escaping you. "Of course it's not, but deep down I think it's what you want."

Pedro's forefinger gently tipped your chin up so you were looking into his eyes; big puppy dog eyes filled hurt, confusion and fear. "What I want?" His bottom lip twitched as if he was lost for words. You nod, wiping your cheeks. "W- why would you ever think something like that, sweetheart?" Pedro's shocked expression now has you doubting yourself. Were you wrong? But how could you be? For a while, you've been trying to ignore the feeling that he was slipping away but looking at him now... It's like he'd never even entertained the idea of leaving you. All this uncertainty is giving you whiplash and you can't hold it in anymore. You need to get everything off your chest.

"I..." you trail off as you feel more tears gathering, ready to pour out along with all your insecurities. "...I feel like you don't want me around anymore..." you begin, chest shuddering with nerves and hiccups. "You never invite me to anything, whether it's to do with your public life or even your social life. I'm never included like a partner should be. I need you to be honest... Are you ashamed of me? Because sometimes I feel like you don't want to be seen with me and that you've been pulling away..." You're rambling now, but you just can't stop. "I know I'm not on the same level as you and there are so many beautiful women out there throwing themselves at your feet. Maybe I don't belong in your world. Maybe I'm not enough for you-" Pedro's hands on either side of your face stops your self deprecating tirade.

"Baby, don't you ever put yourself down like that again, you hear me?" You're shocked to see Pedro's cheeks are now wet too. "I'm sorry. Fucking hell! I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. I thought I was protecting you this whole time." "Protecting me?" you ask in bewilderment. Pedro gave you a sad smile. "I Know from years of experience that being in the spotlight is tough. It can be draining and I could see how hard it was for you." Pedro took one of your hands and turned it over, rubbing slow circles into your palm. When you realised what he meant by that action, he nodded and kissed your forehead.

"I know you tried to hide it from me, but I noticed every time." "I'm sorry," you mumbled, shame burning your cheeks. "No." Pedro squeezed your hand. "You never apologise for that. I'm the one who's sorry. I was afraid if I mentioned it, you deny it for my sake, so I stopped asking you to come with me thinking it was the best thing for you." Pedro exhaled and your heart ached for him, seeing the guilt and remorse crushing him. "I didn't think it would have looked like I never want you around, 'cause the truth is I miss you, EVERY GODDAMN TIME I have to attend these things without you. I want you with me, now and forever. I'll tell you what..." he looked to be carefully considering his next words. "if you feel up for it, come with me to the next event and if you feel overwhelmed at any point, you tell me and we'll take some time out or even leave."

More tears fall, but this time from sheer relief. You hadn't realised you'd dropped your head again until Pedro, once again, lifted your chin. He looked into your eyes with a fierce and passionate determination. "Now, I'll say this only once; I'm not ashamed of you, we are on the same level, you are more than enough for me and you ARE my world. I love you, so much!" You couldn't fight the beaming smile that practically split your face and you grabbed Pedro by the collar of his jacket, crashing your lips against his.

A surprised "Oomph!" came from his throat and you felt him smile against your mouth. His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you flush to his upper body. His tongue licked your lips and you opened them, allowing him to deepen then kiss; a kiss filled with love, reassurance and a promise of forever. Pedro then broke the kiss, pulling you into a hug. "I love you too," you whispered into his ear. "And I'm sorry, I should have told you how I was feeling instead of keeping it from you." Pedro cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear. "I'm sorry too, for making that decision for you instead of talking to you."

You let out a lighthearted chuckle, Pedro's frown softening at the sound. "I guess it was just bad communication on both our parts." "Yeah..." he agreed. "Let's make a promise to each other, right now; that we'll always be open and honest with each other and not keep things bottled up." "I promise," you smile and kiss the tip of his nose. "And I promise, too," he returned the kiss. With all the tension drained from your body, you suddenly feel exhausted and can't stop the big yawn taking over you. Pedro smiled at you, adoringly. "I think we should get you to bed, sweetheart." He stood up, picking you up off the setee and made his way to your bedroom.

"Will you stay tonight?" You whisper as you snuggle into his neck, inhaling the scent you love so much. "Of course I will." He kissed the crown of your head. While you used the bathroom, pedro changed into a pair of PJ bottoms and an old T-shirt he'd left here for when he'd stay over. He used the bathroom after you, rushing through brushing his teeth just so he could return to you sooner. Walking into the bedroom, he laughed to himself when all could see was your eyes peeking at him from the edge of the quilt, which was pulled up to cover your nose. God, you look adorable. Your eyes creased in the corners as you laughed under the cover, then pulled it away for him to settle in next to you.

Pedro laid on his back, lifting his arm for you to snuggle into him. Sighing happily, you lay your head on his broad chest and lace a leg over his hips, the steady thump of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body soothing you instantly. "I love you." You tipped your head up to kiss him softly on his lips. "I love you too," he purred, tightening his arms around you. It didn't take you more than ten minutes to drop off, judging by your slow breaths. Pedro, on the other hand, stayed awake long after you'd dropped off, just relishing the feeling of holding you in his arms. He feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about how close he came to losing you tonight, and all because of a misunderstanding.

He thinks of the ring he's been carrying around, how he almost lost the opportunity to give it to you. Well, he won't wait any longer. If tonight has taught him anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed in life and, even though he never once doubted you'd say yes, just your devastated reaction to believing you'd lost him proves that you love and need him as much as he does you. Tomorrow he'll ask you; He'll wine and dine you at your favourite restaurant, take you on a stroll along the beach and then, he'll get down on one knee and invite you to share the rest of your life with him.

@greenwitchfromthewoods @picketniffler @liciafonseca @misscornelia13 @missadangel @southernbe

[cheruverse]

screw that pillow— screw himself too!

saiki k. x reader

✦ — notes : i can't sleep without cuddling a pillow it feels so incomplete and empty and it irritates me ARRGGHHHHH

୨୧ cws : touch starved reader. fluff.

✦ — warnings : established romantic relationship. probably ooc saiki.

you and SAIKI planned to watch a movie at his house while having both of your favorite sweets at the same time.

saiki had just teleported to buy coffee jelly and your favorite desert at a convenience store.

you stared at the open window of his bedroom. it's a sunny day. the sunlight pooled through the window, giving your room a lukewarm ambience.

the birds chirped as the wind breezed in the room. the cool breeze was subtly brushing your face.

you inhale the fresh air, and relax for a bit as you bask in your lonesome.

that was when you realized that you were feeling tired and drowsy. your eyes were starting to close on you. your mind goes all the way back to monday; you remembered you didn't get enough sleep this week because of some class report that was super important for your grade.

you fight the urge to sleep and occasionally flick yourself on the forehead a few times to wake yourself up. it worked, but it didn't stay for long.

curses. it's getting hard to stay up. you wouldn't want to ruin a date, would you?

.. or maybe you should go and get some shut eye for a bit. saiki's gone for a few minutes so you have some time to take a power nap.

you yawned, rubbing your eyes slowly. it wouldn't hurt, right?

yeah, it wouldn't.

you close your eyes, deciding to snooze for a bit. you grab a nearby pillow and cuddle with it, and the pillow smelled like saiki.

you slowly feel your drowsiness enveloping you, and immediately fall asleep.

saiki teleports back with a bag filled with coffee jelly and your favorite dessert, and sees your figure cuddling a plushie.

'figures, i knew they would be sleeping by now.' he rubs his eyes through his glasses. he's aware you hadn't had enough sleep this week, and the lack of sleep made you miserable.

saiki stared at the pillow you were hugging. he knew you were touch starved and absolutely hated it. he'd swat your hand away if you tried to pinch his cheeks, or if he was feeling petty, he'd teleport behind you if you wanted to surprise him a hug; he's not the one to like physical touch.

he's seen you cuddle plushies and pillows in your sleep and he took you as the type to become cuddly and clingy in your sleep, but why is he getting so worked up just because of a mere pillow?

'no, it's nothing to me. why would i get—'

then it hit him hard. saiki, an all knowing and powerful psychic, getting jealous because of a lousy pillow? absolutely foolish. he wouldn't feel like that at all!

this is something silly to be absurd about, and he felt preposterous; not only on that damn pillow but himself too, for getting so pissed at it for some stupid reason. screw that pillow— screw himself too!

a sigh escapes his lips as he sets the bag down at his table. he wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day sleeping in with you anyway, he's tired too.

he walks to his bed, carefully lying down as to not wake you up. the two of you are in close proximity and he becomes hyperaware with his surroundings, his mind racing with his thoughts.

it feels weird for him to be this close to you, even if you had exchanged kisses and hugs in the past, but you always initiated them. this time, he's the one initiating.

he reluctantly encircled his arm around your waist, pulling you close. he feels you shifting to snuggle up to him, your head leaning to his chest.

maybe this wasn't all too bad.

saiki closes his eyes and immediately felt lightheaded after, enveloping your warmth as he falls into deep slumber.

you're going to have to wake up to a lazy psychic after.

reblogs are appreciated! ♡

[scribeofmorpheus]

Dragon Age Veilguard: Love, Wisdom and Pride

A very long Dragon Age post!

Warnings for: Veilguard Spoilers, Solavellan spoilers.

Okay, so I will preface this by saying that this ‘analysis’ primarily focuses on Solas’ arc; both romanced and unromanced. It isn’t intended to be a romanticised analysis, though it is very much enamoured with how a romanced Solas and his relationship with Lavellan foils (and informs my reading/reception of) that of Solas and Mythal’s relationship in Veilguard. There is a relationship I will address that I feel does parallel Solas and Mythal! Scroll down to “Reading Between the Lines” if you wanna skip my little intro below. Spoilers follow.

Truth be told, I wasn’t ever expecting much in terms of actually getting a sequel to Inquisition. The game dev market went through a tumultuous reshuffle before the remake madness breathed life back into many studios. Bioware game sequels (Mass Effect Andromeda) were underwhelming and not as fleshed out since the EA acquisition. I absolutely believe Bioware would have been shunted had Mass Effect Legendary Edition not been so successful. EA’s reputation was always lacklustre and underhanded, but laying off or losing several head writers attached to Bioware with almost two decades of work under their belts was the biggest red flag. Trevor Morris not being asked to return in exchange for a ‘bigger name’ was also a grave warning that returning to the atmosphere, ambience and world of Thedas that we knew was getting further and further away from a plausible reality. And on top of that, there’s the fact Solas was never intended as a romance interest during early development of Inquisition.

Solavellan seemed doomed!

Despite this, I still held out hope for a sequel, but I feared we’d always be in permanent Solavellan/developmental hell. Heck, I’m still waiting for a Beyond Good and Evil sequel—the game released in 2003! So, actually witnessing people play Veilguard, seeing reactions to it, seeing memes and gifs and essay pieces (like this one), it’s like my community has awoken again, and I never thought I’d see the day. Yet I am not blind to the fact we were robbed of so much potential. I knew thing’s wouldn’t live up to re-emerging expectations when Dragon Age: Dreadwolf was rebranded to Veilguard—the shift seemed to imply less of a primary focus on Solas (and apparently, according to the artbook, the early concept art proves this implication correct).

Things seemed even more dire when the devs revealed there was no tapestry mechanic. I had only one hope: that with the Inquisitor’s confirmed return, we’d get at least some form of catharsis for our Inquisitors (Lavellans and otherwise), if we couldn’t get the conclusions to so many storylines present in each of our worldstates. My main fear was that they’d go the clichéd Ultimate Sacrifice route (which happens anyway, but in a way that makes thematic sense given the stakes and heavily blighted worldstate).

Suffice it to say, there was a lot of evidence that Veilguard would disappoint me in the end. But it hasn’t. It hasn’t lived up to the many expectations and marks of excellence that the Dragon Age world built itself into with the first three entries, that’s for sure, but I am also just so deprived of conclusions, of endings (whether it be because TV doesn’t exist in a sustainable format anymore or that comicbook movies are made with a sequel in mind, never letting anything just “Exit Stage Left” gracefully; or the fact we live in a regurgitating content cycle with late-stage-capitalism where anything remotely profitable gets turned into a caricature of itself: Squid Game, Star Wars, etc.). The cycle is so exhaustive that I am actually at a point where I can say I am content with the ending we were given (on a Solas/Solavellan front), Veilguard gave me relief, and beautiful, achy pain to boot. Though I would absolutely be disappointed by both the "non-romanced Solas" endings, given that Solas winds up either "dying alone, forever" or turns to Tyranny.

Now onto the actual review of that Solavellan ending, Mythal and themes of Love!

Note: I have only gotten the ‘best’ ending in my first playthrough, but I also thought the consequences of not maxing factions would be more… dire? Another note, pls, if your romanced Inky swore to stop Solas, how does that ending differ, if at all? Let me know, I’m dying here!

Sidenote: I’m working on writing another review about my views on the ‘sanitised’ worldstate, the new companions (and why I think Varric was the wrong choice to have as an advisor in the game, given that the Inquisitor or Morrigan would have been more impactful; and not to mention that Cole or Briala should have been companions), removal of the tapestry and what it means for the future of stories in Thedas (The Story We Lost is such a poignant compilation of the sheer volumes of lost lore and depth that I honestly think I won’t go as in-depth on that review as this one), and why I think Veilguard is my final entry into Dragon Age.

Reading Between the Lines: What Pride Hath Wrought

One thing is for sure, Trick Weekes flourishes when writing within the ambiguities and complexities of meaning. This makes every word uttered by Solas so great to dissect, he's a god of lies not because he 'lies' but because he's so careful with how he phrases things, what he holds back, and what he reveals.

For instance, the famous Trespasser exchange where Solas mocks his own follies with sarcasm by saying:

“What is the old Dalish curse? May the Dread Wolf Take you.”

Then a softer, more saddened and beaten-down Lavellan replies:

“And so he did.”

This irks him. Because he then realises in that moment that he absolutely did take advantage, but for some reason he frames it around sex rather than power because that’s easier to address than the latter. And he rejects the notion, even though he brought up the expression he knows to mean nothing close to a sexual inuendo for being ‘taken’, and yet he has the gall to try and derail the conversation by pivoting and saying:

“I would not lay with you under false pretences.”

When I first had this dialogue exchange, I was baffled, because did this mean that there was another meaning to ‘Dread Wolf take you’ that Dalish clans lost through the years, or was it more of a self-deprecating joke Solas had with himself because he, the Dread Wolf, romanced (took) a Dalish Inquisitor (away from her people’s beliefs, histories, past), and he found irony in the saying?

On the surface, “wouldn’t lay with you under false pretences” could simply mean “we didn’t sleep together” or “we did sleep together, but I wasn’t taking advantage as the Dread Wolf, I was simply Solas in your presence”. But I have recently thought of a more… ambiguous reading.  Lay could have been used in a milder, more vulnerable way; to mean to be at peace, to be completely vulnerable, as if to sleep. In that sense, the phrasing becomes: “I could not be at peace with you because I was living a half-truth”.

I absolutely think the moment he feels he is truly beyond hope is when we see his expression of abject horror as Lavellan shouts: “I would have had you trust me!”. He realises then that he did fuck up, he did take the choice away from her because he thought he knew better, him and his pride led to a decision that hurt someone close to him, and he could finally see how wrong he was, how alike the entire situation became to Mythal’s treatment of him. Especially if Lavellan asks to go with him. Because he can see that despite the hurt, the lies and the betrayal on his part, Lavellan still wishing to join him draws too close to his first regret: following Mythal.

Whether he likes it or not, Solas’ love which could burn like a bonfire was directed at a powerful woman—a Herald, an Inquisitor—and inspite of her greatness of character, it still shaped her into someone willing to follow him on his dinanshiral out of love, much like he left the Fade and took physical form for Mythal. So now whenever I hear Lavellan shout “Var lath vir suledin”, Solas replying with “I wish it could, Vhenan,” changes drastically with the Mythal reveal, knowing he always walks away from the Inquisitor in Trespasser.

“I wish it could, Vhenan” sounds heavily like: “You would regret me, as I regret Mythal, and I cannot bear for that to happen us.” More poetically, it could read as: “I wish our love could overcome a duty that has lasted an incomprehensible amount of time, I wish I could change my nature, but then I’d be twisted into a demon, like the spirit of Wisdom in the Dales; and yet again, I would become your regret.” These two readings are very, very romantic. Realistically, given what we know of his kinship with Felassan, and how they were comrades and friends for centuries (“A story unfinished. His back turned!”), and given what we know of the complexity of Mythal’s will that presides over the creation of his very being, and yet he was still able to muster the strength to kill a fragment of her to fulfil his mission,  “I wish it could” was most probably a lament: “Do not ask me to hurt one of the two women I’ve loved on this journey, because if it ever came to it…” he would.

Knowing what I know of Solas, of how he was able to convince himself that Varric’s death (avoidable as it was) was just another necessary step, that it was just another sacrifice, another loss that would be worth something only if he completed his ritual, I have no doubt that Solas would also be able to rationalise hurting Lavellan (which is why in his mind, turning away from her, breaking her heart, leaving with no explanation and aiding her in Trespasser so she could live whatever few years remained in “relative peace” is actually an act of preserving that love). I partially think the reason he reveals the truth in Trespasser (especially for a romanced Lavellan) is in the hopes his ‘truths’ will push her away. But on a deeper note, I think he also thinks of it as some twisted form of repaying her for loving him to the point that he could have almost forgotten what it was to be the Dread Wolf, to just be with her as Solas, that night at Crestwood. Maybe his harsh truths would push her to the point where she’d give up her love for Solas, now that she knew he was the Dread Wolf, freeing her from the shackles of their love. He’s very self-flagellating, all about self-sacrifice for the ultimate goal, the ends always justify the means, he will endure any pain and punishment as long as Arlathan returns in the end.

What is his love of a mortal compared to the despair and loss of an entire empire? Solas views himself as selfish for falling for her, and that nearly broke him, if he was selfish enough to leave the dream of Arlathan behind for her, what would that do to his spirit then?

In his way of thinking, perhaps telling the Inquisitor the truth is a way out, a rationale they can use to justify stopping him or to make it easier to hate him as the Dread Wolf rather than love him as Solas (someone he hasn’t been in so long).

‘Masking’ as the Dread Wolf

During Trespasser, the Inquisitor has every right to despise Solas after all they’ve learned, and I think he half reveals the truth as a tactic so the Inquisitor can have an excuse to hate him, to be driven to anger and have less pull over his choices, once they learn the truth. Solas is particularly skilled at making other’s play the role that makes his own choices seem inevitable, he orchestrates a lot of events to play out in a manner where it's easier for him to talk himself into bringing down the veil.

He goads Elgar’nan to anger easily. He inspires the spirits to fight for him to the death as a necessary distraction during the war. He absolutely allows the Inquisitor to speak to him one last time so he can offer insight, yes, but also so he can easily frame his actions as just and inevitable. But, Oh boy does he get in for a shock if the Inquisitor shows empathy towards him, it scares him because he’s become accustomed to being seen only as the Dread Wolf. To be understood? That gives way to remorse. And remorse gives way to doubt. And he cannot doubt his purpose, twisted as it is, it is all he has left of his former self. Without it he would most likely change into something different. Someone he doesn’t recognise.

This fear intensifies more so if a romanced Lavellan asks to go with him, and in that case, he takes command and distances himself away (rejecting the help of someone close to him; the chance for a possible betrayal; the chance at another Felassan or Mythal [x]; the chance to twist Lavellan outside of her purpose, in this case, the purpose would be love/empathy) but not without showing remorse at having sacrificed yet another relationship for his crusade.

“Ir abelas.”

Sorrow for what cannot be is at the heart of why the Solavellan romance is so powerful, especially because even though both Solas and Lavellan love each other passionately, love alone cannot be enough when faced with regrets. Love would ultimately be stifled. Corrupted into something else over time. And so, for Solas, having loved and lost tragically is better than having loved and corrupted.

He will not do to Lavellan what was done to him, even if it is her choice, because she knows so little, her naivete cannot close the distance of a millenia’s old sea, and it would hurt him immensely to take advantage of her kind heart [x].

By leaving, he keeps her heart pure. And the yearning! Knowing the love is there, but on its own it cannot be invulnerable to corruption, so it is better to lose it than twist it. Ugh! Him leaving Lavellan is the ultimate show of love! IT IS A WISE DECISION. A rare glimpse into pure wisdom. Which is why he kneels beside Lavellan in Trespasser, he does not “Stand Tall” in the face of Wisdom’s heart. He kneels beside her. And when he stands tall again, he is Solas once more, filled with regret, and once through the eluvian, he returns to masking as the Dread Wolf.

Sidenote: It’s especially confounding that Veilguard allows Rook to push the Inquisitor to save or stop him after you’ve reached act 2 despite your world state choice (I think this was done in case they feared the Inquisitor wouldn’t stand by Solas after everything he was revealed to be responsible for in Veilguard, however it doesn’t work because the Inquisitor wasn’t an advisor, Rook never told them what they learned from the wolf statues, so having a stranger hold the ability to make Lavellan keep her promise or not rings hollow). Personally, I wish the Inquisitor’s presence had more weight in the non-Solavellan endings, too. I wish the Inquisitor could end up being the last friend/former love that Solas destroys (if you don’t collect the wolf statues) which then prompts Rook to fight him because Solas’ last tie to empathy failed to redeem him, that the Inquisitor falling is the last straw and Solas snaps, choosing to be a villain in the hopes of being stopped because he can’t stop himself, and not the ‘I am a God’ ending they gave us. Same for if your Inquisitor vows to stop him. I also wish the Inquisitor was the one to do the wolf statue missions. Would have been a nice secondary protagonist mission like the switching perspectives between Kratos and Atreus in GOW: Ragnarök (the old guard and the new; Inquisitor and Rook). I would have loved if they dedicated more dialogue to Inquisition days too, which is why I think Cole should have been a companion (if he wasn’t recruited, he could simply be a compassion spirit that ‘follows’ the greatest pain in the Fade that yearns to be healed, giving a compassionate viewpoint to Solas’ folly; recruited Spirit Cole could have a greater connection to Solas than even Varric, seeing as Cole was most likely a literal representation of Solas rewriting his own history by preventing a spirit from becoming too ‘real’; Human Cole would have a deeper connection to the world of Thedas, and could have been a great tool to prove how change was inevitable, not always a bad thing, and inevitably out of even Solas’ control. But alas, we live with what we are given! Even Imshael could have served in this role! Spirit/Demon of choice and it wasn’t incorporated into the game that supposedly asks you to make the greatest world-changing choice ever; redeem the Dread Wolf or end the age of the Evanuris entirely?!

Now onto the next segment: I want to talk about Solas’ regrets and how I read the ‘love story’ between Solas and Mythal, and why Lavellan (and what she represented) wasn’t enough to get through to him (and that’s a very believable thing, that’s what makes their love both tragic and epic!).

The High Price of Redemption

A romanced Lavellan has the most agency to see through his guises, if she resolves to save him, but even she cannot undo the shackles that still bind him to Mythal—the binds that twisted Wisdom so far from its purpose it became Pride, even when he burned (Mythal) from his face. (Likewise, A close friend Inquisitor who promises to save him is most likely a parallel to Felassan, again, they cannot undo the shackles of regret either.) I fully believe the vallaslin had a deeper magic than simply marking one as being committed/devoted to an Evanuris, I think it linked them magically, and since Solas was the first to burn the vallaslin away, he probably wasn’t as good at severing the link on himself as he was for other elvhen, so maybe a part of Mythal’s will still lingers in him, twisting him to Pride still.

In Veilguard’s final confrontation, I love the intention of showing how Lavellan approaches Solas slowly, as she doesn’t know who she’ll be faced with up those steps, Dread Wolf or Solas. But when she speaks to him, trying to get him to change his mind yet again, forgiving him for his wrongs, we are reassured that Wisdom hasn’t been completely consumed by Pride despite everything we’ve witnessed in the game because he bows his head at her in reverence as he apologises.

He shows humility towards her. He elevates her and her enduring love as worthy of his respect, but he does not consider himself worthy of hers. Thus, Lavellan pries open the door to acceptance but his heart is still not enough. Which is why love alone cannot turn the tide. He’s too broken to accept it. He doesn’t think he deserves it, so the only way out is through; to continue the ritual, to prove he was right. The shackles persist. Varric’s death weighs on his conscience now more than ever. Possibly members of Rook’s team too if they died on his crusade. But he is vulnerable enough for Morrigan to approach, and now Rook can use Mythal’s essence to make the final push. The only way he could be with Lavellan, the only way he could atone for the past and shed the weight of his armour (his crushing duty to the Elvhenan) is as Wisdom, fully restored, unbound by mistakes.

“Ar lasa mala revas.” He could only find absolution once Mythal (the angered and more brash essence of Mythal, the one unchanged by Flemeth and all the human women’s lives she’s been shaped by, but the closest iteration to that of Mythal in Arlathan, the version that he perceives as having every right to be angry at him for turning his back on her, for not going that last final stretch with her and subsequently, not being by her side when she died) severed the final connection: facing his regrets, showing humility and apologizing, while not taking away the blame but sharing it.

What is Benevolence without Wisdom if not Hubris?

We know Elgar’nan was twisted to Tyranny during the war, and I saw a post somewhere where someone wondered what led to his corruption, and what he was before (leadership/command). Likewise, Mythal was not above corruption.

So far, I’ve seen a lot of takes on Solas’ ties to Mythal, the power dynamic of being a student/disciple enamoured (could be romantic) with the benevolence of Mythal, but not how Mythal’s purpose was possibly also twisted towards hubris the moment she asked Wisdom to turn physical and build weapons from its knowledge, twisting it to Pride. Without Elgar’nan’s tyranny to rally against after the war with the Titans, Mythal would most likely turn a similar route, seeing her ruling as “necessary” for the people: “If not me then who?”. And that is a very short stop and quick drop to “I am your all-powerful ruler, I liberated you, and only I can guide the way”. Benevolence twisted by hubris can easily turn to Tyranny too, only one more subtle, a kind of cultish indoctrination compared to violent subjugation. If Solas had not turned his back on Mythal when she chose to be Evanuris (a god over her people) then they most likely would have made the worst (best) pair in the Evanuris. Pride is the Seventh Deadliest Sin. But imagine Pride next to Godhood?! That is frightening. So, when Solas burns the vallaslin, walks away and works against the Evanuris, I believe that he also inadvertently stops Mythal from becoming a corrupted version of herself. The sorrow at having lost her closest confidant and “love” grounds her, keeps her saintly in Solas’ mind, and in some ways, perhaps saves the Elvhen empire from a worse fate than him erecting the veil to begin with. But neither of them ever consider this. And I think that sort of self-blindness perfectly encapsulates how flawed both Mythal and Solas are. Now onto love.

Solas and Mythal – a Love too complex to simply classify as mortal ‘Love’.

There’s no doubt Mythal and Solas shared a deep bond, one that definitely had love in it, when we hear Mythal calling him ‘love’, without the possessive ‘my’ in front of it, it’s easy to misconstrue what type of love they share. A small nitpick, but like a thorn, it applies sometimes just enough pressure to change a perspective. Not calling Solas “My love” but instead choosing to simply use “love” works within those wonderful ambiguities/complexities that Weekes thrives in.

If one started out as a spirit, it’s safe to say concepts like familial bonds, romantic bonds, and blood ties mean little to nothing. There is no one type of love and there is every kind of love all at once. It is only once physical bodies are introduced, that physical touch, the ability to stab someone in the back, to kiss out of affection, to hug out of empathy, to strike out of anger, that love now becomes this twisted thing too. There are no spirits of love because spirits always possessed love, but there are demons of Desire (Gluttony) and of Rage (love denied).

I believe, from GDL’s acting skills, his soft whisper, his almost submissive smallness in the breadth of Mythal’s already soft voice, that Solas was in love with Mythal, devoted as a student, beguiled by her benevolence, content even in her shadow, and possibly star-struck. He was in love with someone who doesn’t have the possibility to love him back the same, it is not in her nature to love those beneath her in the same intensity that those who look up to her do. It’s like a priest being in love with God. The priest can devote themselves, sacrifice everything, but a God will always love their flock equally, but they can still play favourites.

Benevolence cannot be enamoured with Wisdom because to be truly benevolent they must possess Wisdom but there is also Pride to be had in walking beside benevolence, but they can never be on equal footing. Likewise, Solas’ love is not reciprocated entirely by Mythal, but she does love him back in her own way. While Mythal is definetly Solas’ first love, layered and complex, it is also strangled by regrets and twisted by uneven scales of power. It would never be a nurturing love, only a consuming kind.

When he speaks of Mythal during the Solavellan ending, he calls her his “oldest friend”, much like what Mythal says, (paraphrasing) “would you have me be angry at my oldest companion whose experienced so much with me”. Because friendship is perhaps the easiest way to describe their companionship. They went through many iterations, one certainly holding romantic tensions (specifically from younger Solas), but ultimately, with that much time shared, kinship/friendship becomes the easiest to surmise. You can love your friends, fall in love with them, fall out of love with them, only to love them again, be disappointed in them, etc.

Media today is flushed with romance as a linchpin for driving a hero to make dire choices, and that has warped our perception of how a platonic/non-romance-based relationship can be all-consuming, and sometimes more impassioned than strict romance. But, to make it easier for people to understand Solas’ motivations, it's easier to see their love in the light Taash sees it (an unreliable, somewhat “still juvenile” narrator, in that they are still growing into themselves and their culture and the world): “They were doing it”.

However, Bellara, a companion whose entire companion story is linked to her strong, deeply character-driving relationship with her brother (platonic love) refutes that reading by saying (paraphrasing here): “We don’t know if their ‘love’ is the same type of love we tend to think of in a masculine and feminine relationship.”

Felassan’s letter after the Mythal Dragon fight alludes to Solas having been in love with Mythal, but nothing about how she felt. This is why I consider the Solas/Mythal relationship to be more of a one-sided romantic love, but a requited ‘love’ relationship for them both.  

A parallel I find so compelling: Solas and Mythal vs Briala and Celene. Solas and Briala both hold deep emotions for people in great power with the ability to end a tyrannical cycle of subjugation, enslavement and classism, yet for both of these ruler’s charisma and well-meaning intent, they often are swayed to side with tyranny. For Mythal, that was Elgarnan, the Evanuris who made all the other’s worse tyrants; as well as her own hubris for believing her presence alone could dampen the ravenous hunger for power that the rest of the Evanuris held at the small prospect of leading the Elvhen in a time of confusion (being a North Star is hard when all the other lights around you aim to blind the flock into submission). For Celene, this is more about the nuances of retaining favour, pull and power over other noble families, their backing (be it financial, political or simply cut-throat), and their support so she can be the ‘lesser of two evils’ compared to Gaspard’s warmongering personality and Florianne simply being a puppet with no backbone. Both Briala and Solas are turned to pawns despite their immense strength and compassion for their respective elven plights; Briala is rendered a fangless lion (for lack of a better metaphor) if she is reunited with Celene, whereas if she is chosen to puppet Gaspard, there’s every likelihood her story could parallel a ‘power-mad’ Solas if he’d been tethered to Rage (at betrayal) and not Regret (at having not rejected Mythal when she asked him to take a physical body) throughout his tenure as the Dread Wolf.

Solas and Lavellan – a Heart that was never intended to be Given/Taken

Now I will compare the lack of possessives in front of Mythal’s “love” to Solas declaring Lavellan as ‘Vhenan’ and then ‘Ar lath, ma Vhenan’ vs ‘Ar lath ma vhenan'; again, the coma is the thorn, the pause that shapes the quiet unsaid things we can deduce. In the Trespasser cutscene DGL puts the pause after “Ar lath”, even though the subtitles construct the sentence with Vhenan as a proper noun since it’s a nickname often used by Solas: “Ar lath ma, Vhenan”. But I believe Solas actually says “Ar lath, ma Vhenan”.

With “Ar lath, ma Vhenan” the stressor is after the pause, so the line reads: “I love [you], my heart.” And with “Ar lath ma, Vhenan” it makes even less structural sense but can be inferred to mean: “I love you, Heart”.  

The possessiveness of “My” is what definitively differentiates the love Solas feels for Lavellan as one more of the romantic side, it is a love of yearning and desire and a wish to have one last good thing that is pure and incorruptible. The one thing he had left to give. His heart. But that does not mean his heart is enough! The rest of him is still bound to the love of Mythal that was twisted through the ages. That changed him. And given how Pride often comes before a fall, I absolutely understand why Solas is actually very brash and ill-considering when he’s romancing Lavellan (“The kiss was ill-considered”/”It would be kinder in the long run”/”I wanted to show you what you mean to me”). He's on a precarious cliff during Inquisition. His first plan failed. He's allowed ancient elvhen magic to fall into a blighted Tevinter magister's hands. Literally everything the Inquisition did could have been for nought if the Mark had fallen to the wrong person. Things could have easily fallen apart for Solas too, so why not indulge in something trifling and fleeting? Execpt it wasn't trifling. Nor was it fleeting. And when he saw that the fall could potentially not happen, that the Inquisitor could do it, save Thedas and retrieve the orb, he was struck by the gravity of his brashness, of letting impulses control him instead of acting according to a plan. But it was too late. They'd both fallen for each other.

Solas didn’t expect to form entanglements within the Inquisition. He was committed. He was angry at the world, “walking through a sea of tranquil”, called flat-ear by the Dalish that later chased him from their village when he proved he was the Dread Wolf. He was despised by people who looked like him. Spirits were constantly being abused and turned into demons. People erected monuments to heroes who slew demons. Mages were caged. Elves were subjugated. The empire fell. Humans razed the lands with their wars and petty squabbles of succession. The darkspawn tainted the land. The dwarves would never dream. Solas awoke to the worst possible fate; in his eyes, it was all his fault.

So when he kisses Lavellan in the Fade, impulsively, he isn’t kissing her there because it is less ‘real’ than if they kissed while she was awake, it makes it so much more real. He’s kissing her in the space where he is most himself. Where he can shed the body he was forced to build and trap himself within, the body of Pride. He is acting on the impulses of an enlivened Wisdom spirit that does not consider tomorrow, for the first time in a long time. It isn’t a long game with Lavellan, like so much of his life has been about always thinking to the future, always considering the outcome, machinating, scheming, the wiles and woes of every trickster god in mythology. It’s being in the moment with her that is all-consuming. It lowers his guard, leaves him vulnerable, and when she enquires about the Fade or spirits or histories, he gets to be useful as pure Wisdom again.

Lavellan challenging him when he first shows animosity or irritation towards the Dalish (a prideful act), and then him being taken aback when she explains that maybe the Dalish could be shown another way (making him consider her words, being given a morsel of wisdom back, reminding him of his old self), these are all small moments where Solas can begin to see springs of hope in the broken world. And that’s terrifying. It means he’s destroying not just himself, but the memory of Mythal and Arlathan too, all for the love of a woman who fell for an apostate.

The best, most genuine unmasking of Solas for me is during Wicked Hearts, when he’s tipsy on wine, has no inhibitions, and revels in the intrigue, the gossip, the dancing, the music (something we now know is important enough to have an entire music room in the Lighthouse), the sex! He is at his most relaxed, and then he asks Lavellan to dance, not caring about how it would look for the “Inquisitor’s serving man, Solas” to be intimate in a fucking Orlesian palace with the Herald of Andraste, right after stopping an assassination attempt! He finds comfort in the world of Thedas at that moment. Something he rarely shows so outright.

When he takes Lavellan to Crestwood to confess, I believe removing her vallaslin wasn’t entirely just for her, it wasn’t just to free her from slave markings or to simply reveal a form of a truth he wanted to tell her, it was to resolve himself of what his first purpose was supposed to be, what she distracted him from. Removing the vallaslin had been something he’d done for the slaves of Arlathan, it was what earned him the mantle of Dread Wolf. When he removes Lavellan’s vallaslin, he resets.

Thedas cannot allow Wisdom to truly exist without fear of corruption to Pride, Thedas the world he was responsible for shaping, literally the Maker of the Veil, and he falls for a woman Heralded as Andraste’s Chosen One, Mythal’s incarnation in the South. The irony. The cruel, cruel irony. The Inquisition is tied to his past, every Andrastian he meets, every Dalish person with vallaslin on their face, every slave or city elf. Tevinter worshiping the dragons that still have the essences of the Old Gods. His heart alone cannot withstand all of the punishing, gruelling, oppressive weight that is Thedas. Even for Lavellan. So he frames their romance as this tragic, short-lived tale that was beautiful but ultimately destined to end. He expects it to pass for her, she’s mortal after all. But he also leaves his heart with her, literally giving her power over the last uncorrupted part of himself. Think Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann at the end of World’s End, but metaphorically. He gives her his heart to safe keep as he goes on a journey that could corrupt a heart, turn it cold and bitter, destroy it.   

Ar lasa mala revas. You are free.

He frees his heart.

Lets it go.

Twice!

So only once he is relinquished of his regrets, once Mythal does the same for him, only then is there “Nothing left except their love”. Because Lavellan still held his heart there was still something left after. Something beyond despair and regret and loss. He had given his heart to her to safekeep. And she did. Lavellan returns his heart to him when he is freed. What Mythal had to break so Solas could heal right again (like a bone), Lavellan casts a splint around so it can be set and heal properly. This is the difference between Mythal’s love and Lavellan’s. Both Mythal’s love and forgiveness broke him, but Lavellan’s love gives him the strength to Stand Tall one last time.

Solas, before Pride alone, as Wisdom (perhaps Solas always meant both Standing Tall and Wisdom, for Wisdom can grant one pride to stand tall for what they believe in), finds contentment with the rare and marvellous spirit that endured (his Vhenan). Wisdom endured because of humanity, something benevolence is beyond.

Bellanaris

When Lavellan offers to go with him, to continue on the dinanshiral that she already considers herself a part of, Solas is legitimately taken aback. His expression is soft yet full of disbelief and awe. He actually stops walking a few frames before Lavellan says this, as if hoping Lavellan would say something to him!

And then she basically proposes to him! “Bellanaris!” I absolutely adore the fact that Lavellan promises them eternity. A vow as sacred as a death right, as protected as an ancient, elvhen, undisturbed burial ground in the face of Orlesian colonialisation. They endured and now they will have an eternity. For once, we have an elvish tale that is not a curse, it is a love story with reunion at its core, where both elves reclaim something precious that was denied them.

Lastly, i am absolutely frothing at the mouth that Solas and Lavellan primarily speak in elvish! And even more feral at the fact Solas does not try to talk her out of joining him (because this sweet talker very well could!). He simply tells her where he is going is terrible. And she shuts that shit down immediately. No repeat of Trespasser. She's standing beside him, the South has all but fallen, whatever ties yet survive are strained, and she has fought the good fight for 8 years. I think the Inquisitor was about ready to leave Thedas behind.

The last decisions Solas makes are of his own volition. Entering the Fade for atonement. Stepping into the Fade with Lavellan (It was confirmed by Weekes that Lavellan’s presence in the Fade prison would fundamentally change it in a way we haven’t seen!). Thanking Rook for giving him one last shot at getting happiness. All his own!

This is the look of a man finally reunited with his wife! So much emotion in ONE frame. God! There’s never been a character like him. A love story like theirs! I’m so happy I got to see this ending. Full circle!

P.S. If you read this far, woah nelly! That’s crayyzeee, so here are some more great pieces: Why it was important for Lavellan to kneel for Solas as he knelt for her in Trespasser in the Solavellan ending [x], and here’s a great deep-dive on Solas as a spirit of Wisdom [x].

[nissakii]

[Please use headphones for best experience~] POV: You are hiding in the Shinsengumi headquarters and can't get out, so you are waiting for a good moment to slip out. Still it seems those guys are not planning on stepping down for a bit-

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[prettieinpink]

2024 WRAPPED⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

₊˚⊹♡TOP LESSONS LEARNT 

Missing out gives you progress on your goals. So many times this year, I didn’t do things that I usually would’ve loved to do to make and maintain progress on my

goals. Simple things like cancelling plans, buying certain things and any other short-term pleasures. Allowing myself to overcome FOMO, and in return, I saw great progress in my goals. 

People hating you has nothing to do with you. I dislike a lot of things because it's my personal preference. Someone who decides to hate you is a matter of their preference. However, if they choose to show that hatred to you, it's a matter of projection. People will project onto you as a way to cope with their own life, cause they can’t deal with their own. 

Stop letting everything control you. Truly, you’re held back from nothing in life. Your circumstances, identity, environment and more can only hold you back so far. At one point, you’ve gotta start acting and stop blaming everything around you on why you can’t. This one… is still in progress for me. I do feel like my parents are a major factor in me being held back, but deeper down, I also feel that it's an excuse to not work up to my potential. 

Trying to fit in is fruitless. I wear and listen to what I want. I decide what kind of content I want to consume, and what food I want to eat. This generation is notorious for tearing down anyone who doesn’t fit in a cookie cutter. Allowing your authenticity to shine through, will guide those who are meant for you, to you!

All problems are temporary. This one does not apply to everything, but it applies to a lot of things. Your issues will not last forever, so don’t let it leave a permanent mark on you. Don’t let your situation deter you from your goals.

₊˚⊹♡ACHIEVEMENTS 

It's small, but I feel like I’ve created my room to be fully intentional for me. While it still can be improved, my room is much better in terms of clutter and decor compared to 2023. 

Consistent practicing soft social skills like keeping up small chats, giving compliments and handling disagreements gracefully. I ended the year with all B’s! Last semester was a bit of a flunk for me, but I managed to pull it up for the end of the year. 

Saved like 500$ for purchasing things off my wishlist. 

Read like 12ish books for 2024. Would’ve loved to read more, but I was in a reading slump and also didn’t have enough time to go out to my local library to borrow any books. 

₊˚⊹♡HABITS / RITUALS 

In bed by 9 pm, up by 6 am. Sleeping early has made me feel a lot more energised in the mornings, and I find that it's easier to get out of bed and continue with my routine. The later I slept will more I felt sluggish for the next day + waking up earlier hay motivated me to stay on top of my routines. 

Daily walks after school. It gets my steps in, but it's a nice way to debrief after school and regather myself before heading straight into studying. I sometimes do walk home, and it's great to plug in my earphones and just not think. 

Journaling. I preach it for a reason, as journaling helps plenty. It can help you to shift your mindset beliefs, identify self-sabotaging behaviours, allow us to truly reflect on who we are and see progress each day in our lives. 

Lighting candles more frequently. It's such a little habit, but it brings me so much joy. Usually, they’re just collecting dust as decor however when I started to use them, I loved the whole experience. The smell and the small warmth that it brings are just perfect for the ambience. 

Curating my social media. I have an absolute maximum of 5 hours per day, but I still want those 5 hours to count for something. I’ve redownloaded TikTok earlier this year, and I think it’s a great platform for looking for advice and inspiration. Creating a feed that works for you instead of the other way around, will definitely change how it influences you. 

Having alone time in the morning and at night. I need this time to myself to slow myself down and regather my thoughts and it's just what I look forward to, to get through the day. I usually do whatever I like in this time slot, on the condition that I am completely by myself, free from any tasks or distractions. 

Cleaning regularly. When I did a deep clean last year, it would just be vacuuming my room and wiping down all visible surfaces. That is good, but there’s a lot more to clean than you realise. One major thing that we forget to clean (yet is probably the dirtiest) is our devices. Wipe down all screens every single day!

₊˚⊹♡BEAUTY / FASHION TIPS

Turn down the toilet seat when you flush. The amount of times I’ve been in public toilets and flushed with the lid up is outrageous, and I just can’t believe that last year I didn’t even consider the bacteria that would fly up on my clothes or even my face. Not a major skincare tip, however, er I think this would affect it. 

Know your undertone. I would only use undertones to know what kind of jewellery fits me, but it goes way beyond that. Before I start, I would like to say, don’t buy any more clothes or makeup just because they don’t fit your undertone. If you like your confidence will override any undertone clash. I used to walk around with really yellow makeup, and the difference when I got a foundation that had more of a golden undertone was like day and night. The same applies to your clothes. Warmer clothes will complement me, becausI’m’m warm-toned. So, I tend to stay away from cooler tones. I don’t use colour seasons, Is anyone wondering? 

Stick to a palette that you like. Last year, I wasted so much money trying to experiment with new colours in my clothes and makeup, just to end up hating it. It’s also a bad consumerist habit, to buy things for your fantasy self. So today, I only buy clothes it's the colours I like and I only purchase makeup if its shades fit me. I’m not saying buy anything new, but keep it to a minimum to reduce waste and save your money for the things that you like. 

Avoid fashion inspiration with faces. Highly attractive people can pull off anything, quite literally. Their face can influence subconsciously them ly to love the outfit, even if the outfit is ‘bad’. So, when saving pictures from Pinterest, TikTok or magazines, avoid any outfits that show their face. I said avoid it as sometimes you just really like an outfit and you know it's nothing to do with their face, which is okay. 

₊˚⊹♡YOUTUBERS

JIlLZ GUERIN - Focuses on feminine energy, lifestyle and intellectual habits. I recommend her as many of her videos are new and fresh perspectives.

SANDY DIANA BANG - Mostly productive vlogs that inspire and motivate, with a sprinkle of wellness, health and beauty content. Her channel and vibes are so aesthetic too! 

ROSIE GRAHAM & LIDIA MERA - Both are fitness influencers that focus on pilates. Their workouts are so good that they always leave me sweating and strained (which is good!! lmao). If one of your goals for 2025 was to start working out, I would use their videos. 

THANK YOU BUBU - Another fitness channel that is one of my time faves, and they have a variety of exercises that target abs, glutes, legs and arms. Another channel I would recommend if I was starting to exercise again. 

MINA LE - She does research and creates video essays on various topics, which many videos I feel are relevant in current times. She’s great if you want to expand and explore new perspectives. 

HALIEY GAMBA - She’s for a more matured audience, but she’s such a hidden gem. All of her advice ly new things, not just the same things that have been rinsed and repeated. 

KELLY GOOCH - She’s a beauYouTuberber who mainly discusses the beauty industry and its products while recommending some. She’s one of the only beauty influencers who I will listen to, as I feel like her opinions aren’t constantly swayed by sponsorships or promotions. Even then I would still take any beauty opinions and advice with two cents.

ELLE CHU - A smaller, but underrated beauty influencer. She discusses a lot of beauty products whether they’re worth it, overhyped or overpriced. She does sometimes talk about the beauty industry, but those videos are infrequent. 

₊˚⊹♡BOOKS 

(I have read all of them libby- a reading app).

NJUTA by NIKI BRANTMARK. All about the Swedish art of enjoying the present. If you feel like you have a simple and unexciting life, I recommend you read this.

SPARK JOY by Marie Kondo. A popular decluttering book that uses the KonMari method that emphasises items that you want to keep, instead of focusing on what you want to get rid of.

THE HEALTHY MIND TOOLKIT by Dr Alice Boyes. This is the ultimate guide of mindset shifts to target self-sabotaging or destructive beliefs and gives strategies to overcome them.

MINDFULLNESS ON THE GO by Jan Chozen Bays. A collection of little mindfulness practices you can do almost anywhere, almost anytime. 

MY WISHES FOR 2025

To join any club at this point. It's hard for me to do anything outside of the house with my parents' schedules, and I do feel like it has eaten at my social life and the experiences, lessons etc I would gain. At first, I originally wanted to join so it's something I could put on my university application, however, I’m entering year 10 with absolutely no extracurriculars since year 7. (for anyone not down under, I'm talking about high school grades.) 

Expanding my social circle. I feel like I don’t have a secondary community outside of school, and it's definitely what can amplify my slumps or depression without having that one person I can talk to freely, without the worry of school. I feel like I’m making no sense here. 

Moving anywhere. I want to move schools, cities, countries, or whatever. Being in the same school since year 2 (elementary) has taken a toll on me. 

A million dollars. Very unrealistic, but I still want it! I feel like money is the only thing that can actively change my life at this point. 

thats it for this post! I encourage anyone else to do their own wrapped and tag me!

[wandasaura]

GODDAMN BLAZE IN THE DARK

summary — when the ultimate arises of being allowed to orgasm or being allowed to relieve your bladder, the only thing you can do is hope to god that you can be the good girl she expects you to be

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, alcohol consumption, piss kink, holding/control kink, fingering, teasing, begging, orgasm delay, degradation, praise kink, eventual orgasm, condescending tones/elements, domestic banter, men/minors dni

kinktober

The weather was finally beginning to turn as October earned its keep in the festive beach town you resided within the borders of, no longer blisteringly hot, but rather soft and quaint as a breeze ruffled leaves and blew discarded litter down the streets of Westview. The aesthetic of the world had begun to shift with the incoming breeze of cool air as well, replacing vibrant pinks and muted blues with burnt orange shades and deep charcoal hues. Wanda herself had fallen into the fall frenzy, adding decorative pillows to the couch and styrofoam pumpkins to the mantle despite her mentality that decorating for single day holidays was pointless and a waste of hard earned money. You knew she adored the whimsical magic of Halloween, even if she rolled her eyes each time you suggested watching a film inspired by the spookiest month of the year. That’s just how she was. Pointedly difficult merely to get a rise out of you, and it worked each time you begged to watch Hocus Pocus only to receive an eye roll and an exaggerated huff of faux exasperation. She always caved, always cuddled up on the couch or in bed, but it was never easy to get her there, nor was it easy to keep her interest as her hands began to wander down your tantalizing body and mark its claim on your most sensitive areas. 

Tonight, as you cuddled up close, beneath a thin throw blanket printed with jack-o-lanterns and the silhouettes of cartoon bats, it had been painfully easy. She hadn’t protested when you suggested a movie night, hadn’t rolled her eyes when you turned on a film from your childhood that was admittedly horrible at best and downright insulting at worst, and she hadn’t even huffed in overdramatic defeat when you’d turned the subtitles on because that made any viewing experience ten times better. In fact, she’d been nothing but pleasant and willing. She’d collected your drinks from the kitchen, gathered your chosen snacks from the pantry, and lit a candle on the coffee table that had the entire house smelling like sweet notes of subtle maple and addictive vanilla. 

Cautiously, you peaked over your shoulder at her side profile illuminated by flickering auburn light from the three wick candle providing a gentle ambience of mood lighting around you, the dancing flame with the slightest twinges of blue and yellow embedded within its fiery existence reflected off of her emerald stare so peacefully that you nearly accepted the gentle nature of the night ahead of you without question, but you knew better. You’d been with Wanda for years, seen her through some of the most trying and difficult periods of her life, and subsequently some of the best and softest. You knew that whenever something was easy with her, then there was something else up her sleeve just waiting to be pulled. She kept things interesting, always had and always would, but you’d become rather perceptive to her motives after such a long game of cat and mouse. 

She had you pinned against her chest as you lounged on the couch she’d affectionately decorated with throw blankets and decorative pillows, one arm looped around your waist while the other held onto her glass of chilled white wine, the stem carefully weaved between her fingers in intricate delicacy that you hadn’t quite mastered no matter the years you spent attempting to copy her mannerisms. She dripped with class and exquisite wealth, despite being brought up in a country suffering with poverty. There was an intoxicating energy to her, one that compelled even her most passionate haters to surrender to her spell and seek to know her personally. You’d never quite gotten over that alluring charm about her, but she’d made it painfully obvious that you were the only one she wanted to bring home and into bed each time you left the house, so you didn’t dwell much on the simple fact that Wanda Maximoff could have any man or woman she desired without so much as lifting a finger to flirtatiously wave. 

As you reached for your glass of wine that had been thoughtlessly left abandoned on the coffee table besides the slowly burning candle, her arm pressed against your bladder just enough to make an uncomfortable feeling travel through your nerves. Willing to ignore it for a while longer, not wanting to leave her soothing company or risk your film being turning off due to her unrelenting boredom, you stayed against her chest, now gripping your own glass with delicacy, although you didn’t quite have the placement of your fingers right enough to have replicated her eloquence. You’d thought that Wanda was unaware of your subtle wince, however, she’d so easily detected the shift in your body language and the way you maneuvered within her hold to alleviate some of the pressure she was intentionally pressing into your bladder. 

When her hand fell to your thigh, her wine glass set to the side as she had only a couple of sips left and didn’t particularly enjoy being drunk without your lighthearted energy to match her pace, you shivered with anticipation, knowing all too well where her soft touch would lead if you played your cards right. Well, you had thought you knew all the moves she was going to make, but when she dug her fingertips into the crevice of your thigh without warning or prior teasing, tickling the sensitive skin that she knew was a no-go zone on your best day, let alone your worst, you truly began to realize what you were in for. A soft whine slipped off of your lips as you wriggled against her, but all she did was tighten her hold on you and coax your whines with sweet kisses against the shell of your ear, her fingers still teasing and tickling your sensitive skin with passion. 

“Wanda.” You gasped when one hand splayed firmly against your sensitive belly, and the other moved beneath your soft gingham print sleep shorts to cup your core beneath the frilly underwear you’d picked out that morning. Your attire was nothing special, nothing sexy nor new, but that’s what Wanda preferred. There were times when lingerie worked, where it brought a level of excitement and newness to your already exhilarating sexcapades, but Wanda was sweet, she preferred you as you were, with no reason to constantly be trying to change your comfortability and appearance. Her boldness had always been a turn on, and as you sat trapped between her chest and her possessive arms, you felt merely like a toy at her disposal. 

“What’s wrong, my angel?” She cooed against your earlobe, teeth taking claim over that sensitive inch of skin that always provoked your desire to rise to uncontrollable levels. She knows what’s wrong though, it’s not the first time you’ve walked into this trap, but it’s been months since she’s laid it out, months since she’s been so cruel and condescending that you don’t know whether to plead for leniency or for her fingers to claim the sweetest softest spaces of your intimacy. “Hm, be a good girl and tell me.”

“I have to pee.” The words burned your pride as they slipped into the air, your cheeks twinging a flush shade of pink more aligned for the pallet of summertime than fresh autumn. You wriggled in her grasp, attempting to set yourself free, but all you accomplished was adding more pressure against your already sensitive bladder, intensifying the sensation of urgency within your nerves. “Wands, I have to pee.” 

Your desperation did nothing to quell her cruelty, rather it feebly landed in the near silent room apart from the voices slipping out of the speakers in the ceiling. “Well that’s too bad, sweetheart. I like having you here. Surely you can wait a little while longer, can’t you? I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” 

Her fingers slid through your folds, collecting warm, sticky arousal that pooled at your entrance. You whimpered in need, desperate need that turned your nerves cold with pleasure but warmed your skin deliciously to the touch. You writhed in her lap, torn between staying still, ignoring the pressure being applied to your belly, and squirming against her hold until you could sink onto those tantalizing digits and claim your pleasure. You didn’t have the luxury of choosing, she was already deciding your fate before you could strategize a game plan to secure dominance. You never won when you attempted to overpower her, but it was fun to have those unrefined moments of vicious pleasure while they lasted. 

You gasped a broken whine of pleasure when her fingers dug themselves into your core with one finite movement, buried to the hilt if the chill of her rings laying heavily against your pulsating clit pebbled with anticipation was any indication. The pads of her fingers pressed against the softest section of your walls, sparkling sharp sparks of pleasure to shoot up your spine and reverberate off the lining of your sensitive bladder. You gasped again, a breathy, whiney sound that was entirely pathetic but lewdly sweet, as Wanda prodded and pressed against that spongy spot continuously, her fingers curling and scissoring apart within your slick velvety walls. 

You writhed in intense pleasure, squirming against her tight, near clinical hold as she kept you confined and at her mercy, only able to take whatever she gave you when she felt like it. The sensations sparking to life in your bladder and core were unimaginable fireworks of pleasure that drowned you in their intensity, covering you in pleasure derived from her; her touch, her words, her eloquently dominant energy. She covered you in her effortlessly, and you surrendered to the flames of passion without hesitation. 

“I can’t hold it! I can’t hold it! Wanda! I have to pee! Please let me cum!” As torn as your body was between remaining still and writhing in passionate movements, your mind was an even playing field of indecision. You had to pee, that was undeniable, it was steadily beneath the surface of pleasure, tethered to your orgasm in a terrifying way, but you need to cum, as her fingers scissors your pussy apart, massaged that spongy area within your walls, as her rings nudged and thumped against your clit, you were being driven closer and closer to that beautiful edge of vulnerability and pleasure. 

“One or the other.” Wanda’s voice was level, calculated. She wasn’t bothered by your desperation, nor was she feeling generous. Your bones grew cold with anticipation as you shook your head, but it did nothing to win you sympathy. Her fingers that had already been hammering into you at an unforgiving pace took an even harsher approach, and the squelching sounds of pleasure and arousal filled the room and joined the existing symphony of a crackling flame and animated characters. “You can either cum on my fingers like a good girl, or you can go pee and not receive anything. And, I know this slutty cunt never misses an opportunity to cum, so stop acting like you can’t handle what I decide to do to your body, and sit still.” 

Your body couldn’t help but oblige by her demand, and with muffled whimpers, your body stopped fighting against her hold. She laughed tauntingly, pressing harder against your bladder. You knew the moment you leaked even the slightest bit against her fingers, her touch would be withdrawn, whether you were in the middle of a blissful orgasm or just on the cusp of falling over the edge. She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t show you even the slightest bit of moisture. She had made her ultimatum clear, there would be nothing that could change that. 

“I’m close! I’m close!” As your orgasm built, so did that pressure in your bladder that was slowly becoming unbearable. You could only will your body to allow you control, but before you could slip off the edge, fall into a sea of butterflies and pleasure, her fingers were slowing down, her palm pressing harder against your bladder in return for the loss of pleasure. 

“Hold it.” She demanded cruelly, voice level and dominating, only luring you further beneath her captivating spell that had you submitting unregretfully. You did as best as you could, your eyes pinched shut as you fought to fight off your orgasm, but eventually it all caught up to you, and your mindless babbling became indistinguishable pleas and desperate begging. “So pretty when you squirm for me.” 

“I-I can’t! Please! Please! I need to cum! I need to pee! Let me cum! Please, Wanda! Please!” Finally forcing the words off of your tongue, you only hoped they were enough to convince her to be kind. Minutes passed until they became a blur of sensations that ripped you apart from the inside, and when you thought you were going to break, just as you were on the cusp of deteriorating, everything started up again and instead of being denied, instead of loitering on the edge of bliss, Wanda granted you permission. You came with a high pitched moan, squirming and writhing against her hold and the second she worked you down from that blissful edge, you were bolting toward the bathroom, followed by her footsteps and taunting laughter. “Three glasses of wine and you decide to pull this shit! Wanda, I am going to kill you one day!” 

“That’s how you repay someone who just gave you the best orgasm of your life?! You threaten them?!” Wanda laughed menacingly, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as she watched you attempt to relieve your bladder, although that was slightly difficult in your post-orgasm state, which only made your frustration double. 

“Second best! Nothing will beat last Christmas.” You threw her a nasty glare, finally able to pee as your muscles began to loosen and return to normal, although every nerve in your body was still alight with blissful pleasure. 

“You’re only making me want to compete with myself here, darling.” She smirked, licking her fingers clean of your arousal in a tantalizing power move that had your cheeks flushing but your eyes rolling. 

“You’re impossible.”

[jjenthusee]

Steady Breaths and String Lights

Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: another drabble 😫 i’m really into domestic jason rn so don’t mind me giving yall soft jason content <3 ENJOY and tell me your domestic jason headcanons in the comments if u have any :D

A brand new couch.

It was a deal from a discount furniture store and once you had laid your eyes on it, how could you pass up the deal?

No tears, a good color, the store wanted to get rid of it, so they slapped a large discount tag on it and it came with the decorative pillows. How could you not have it?

One card swipe later, you were the proud owner of this new couch.

The process getting it in your apartment was different. You had no vehicle to haul it, but you managed to convince the company to do one delivery for you.

After your great declaration of strength and independence (and with the help of your neighbors) you moved the couch.

The living room was complete with the new furniture.

You were practically an interior designer.

If Jason wasn’t gone for the week, he would’ve told you that was a stretch, but he had boring taste anyway.

After a good wash and spray, you moved the cushions into place, angling the decorative pillows perfectly and shifting a pristinely folded blanket for a unique touch. It was just like how you saw it in the store.

Then curiosity got the better of you and all the cushions were taken out again, placed at different angles, leaning against one another.

Placing, stabilizing, placing another one.

You grabbed a blanket from your bed, some battery powered string lights, and Jason’s pillow, leaving yours untouched on your side of the bed.

You had made a structurally sound fort, with an organized stack of books, lights hung from edge to edge to give the perfect ambience, comfy blankets and Jason’s pillow that smelled like him.

After admiring your creativity and one final inspection, you crawled into the fort, curling yourself in the safe cocoon.

It was warm and you leaned into his pillow, the scent of his shampoo comforting you until your breaths evened, falling asleep to the excitement of telling Jason about your brand new purchase when he got home.

An hour later, a slight rattle came from the window, cautious steps crawling in, but loudly enough to make a sound to alert whoever was inside.

Jason had got home early and he waited for your head to pop out of some corner.

His armor was heavier on his body that night and he had been away way too long. He just wanted to hear your voice happily welcome him back, passionately hug you, and then crash on the bed holding you near him.

Like routine, he was going to unclip his utility belt and peel off his jacket, but he never heard your voice.

Standing frozen, he kept the protective shiny red helmet on his head until he could physically see you.

There was no movement, no noise.

Jason stood still, pressing his boots into the floorboards as he readied himself. While preventing any sound from his movements, he switched on his infrared scanners, sweeping the entire home before he saw a curled up ball.

In the living room, you were protected by a small cushion fort in front of a couch that magically appeared.

You were sound asleep as his hushed footsteps walked closer to you. He had removed his helmet after he ensured you had a steady heartbeat and even breaths.

He placed his helmet outside the blanket door and removed his boots, placing them neatly next to one another.

He wanted to be a respectful guest in your newly built home.

With bare hands, Jason lifted the flimsy door and there you laid, peacefully drifted off.

Jason exhaled, releasing his previous tension with one glance at you.

He always loved coming home to you.

Carefully, he maneuvered himself through the door. With a surprise, he easily fit. He smiled at the thought that you must have built it with him in mind because the door perfectly fit his shoulders. What an attention to detail.

He crawled in, moving his body by his arms until he was parallel with your face.

Unconsciously, you moved to the new warmth, Rolling your body closer to the new presence.

Jason smiled into your scalp, closing his eyes to the weight of you.

“Sweetheart, I’m home.” Jason whispered, vibrations felt against your cheek.

You incoherently mumbled into his body, barely able to open your mouth.

As you felt the comforting arms rubs and strong arms encircling you, your mind started to slowly wake up. The fog clearing.

You freed one of your hands buried underneath the blanket to match the hands enveloping you.

Then your hand felt a familiar bicep, firm in your palm.

Your eyes shot open as you moved your head out of the crevice of Jason’s neck to see your sleepy vigilante laying next to you.

“Feeling me up in your sleep?” Jason tiredly smirked, teasing you as soon as you woke up.

You slowly blinked before fully registering this wasn’t just another pleasant dream.

It was the real deal in front of you.

“Welcome home.” You softly greeted, kissing his knuckles.

Jason’s body physically relaxed at your words, his smirk morphing into content.

His hands were rough and calloused, but the feeling on your lips have never felt better.

“I got a couch.” You smiled into his hand.

“I see that.” Jason glanced around the inside of the fort. “I got ya something while I was out for the week, but I don’t think I could top a couch.”

“It was nicely decorated before, but I got carried away.” You closed your eyes to nuzzle into Jason’s pillow, holding onto Jason’s hand.

He watched you get comfortable, your silent contentment with his touch and warmth. Loving the skin he hated so damn much.

You yawned, the comfortability of your shared lives relaxing you.

Your hair was a mess from the nap, your lashes laid on your skin, and his hands rubbing at any inch of your face, memorizing every detail he could so even his dreams could also have you.

“No, it’s perfect.” Jason watched you, leaning in to kiss your temple, lips lingering a second longer.

You smiled, feeling complete that your other half was home.

“I’m glad.” You slurred, letting sleep inch closer and closer to you.

The two of you lost to the night, your sleeping forms intertwined and Jason’s legs sticking out of the fort.

And a brand new couch that joined your shared life.