#poor solas

[liaragaming]

Solas goes back to his desk post Fade kiss screaming at himself:

"Considerations?!?! Fuck, no! Tell her no! Just no! What possibly is there to consider! This is the worst possible idea! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Solas approaches Lavellan with a line prepared, ready to let her down as gently as possible, but the moment he sees her, his heart catches in his throat:

[taschaka-blog]

As part of an experiment with gold and a limited color palette, I came up with a story made up of several illustrations. I'll show them all at once later, but for now I'll show them individually as I'm drawing them.

Here's the first picture, the second picture, and the third picture, The fifth picture.

This is the fourth picture.

I wanted to draw a very sad Solas here, so it would seem like Solas is almost crying. This picture is about regret, remorse, and forgiveness.

This is a story about Fen'Harel, Lavellan, metamorphosis, and fade.

To be continued.

[coffeecacao]

Playing veilguard when you always customize your characters to look like you is like

Customizing rook: done

Customizing inquisitor: same, but with a different hairstyle

[clairedelune-13]

Poor Solas, everyone is blaming him for the events of the game when it’s literally your (the player) fault.

Its ok, Egghead, at least I’m in your corner.

[crackinglamb]

My dash did a thing:

[modernagesomniari]

Fic ‘The Audacity of Rain Drops’

Part of Mala Suldein Nadas series and you can read it on AO3 here.

Ok so this is basically me watching that first cutscene with Scout Harding when Eli is in the Antaam Saar (basically naked light armour) and there's rain all over her. And then I decided that Solas should be the perv, not me. Poor Solas.

But, I mean.  Look at her.

Solavellan, ~720 words

R

**********************

The cold light of the rain made the usual warm colour of her skin cold.  There was a lot of it on show now that she had learned how to properly put on the Qunari armour Varric had arranged for her from Kirkwall.  The soft silk of the ropes dented the muscles of her arms, crossed over the tight skin of her collarbone and held what looked like a precarious grip on her hips.

He was rather embarrassingly distracted.

The rain came and fell on that skin, rivulets of it soaking into the material of her armour and trailing down her body.  There was one in particular, he noticed as he stood beside her, waiting for her business with her officer to be done, that was most disturbing.  He had watched it form on the silk of the tie around her breasts, the material no longer able to hold it.  He had tracked it as it slowly travelled down the plaited rope, something like breathing in the way that it slowed at a crest of a knot, only to slide into the dip of the next.  Then, at a truly frustratingly slow pace, it had come to rest against the skin of her ribcage.  As it settled on her skin he could almost feel the chill of it on his tongue mixed with the heat of her body.

It taunted him with its slowness, tracing up and down the faint ridges of her ribs at pace no normal lover would have the patience to stick to.  As it picked up speed, curving dangerously close to the hollow of her belly button he wanted to chase it, catch it from its journey further down with his mouth, an open kiss on the soft muscle of her stomach, all tongue and lips and scrape of teeth to parody the tickle of the water and claim it as his.  Or perhaps he would let it go, as it did now, feel her body tense in waiting as it slid past the curve of her abdomen and hit the silk of her belt.  He felt a burst of disappointment and arousal when the droplet disappeared, soaking into the material, some absurd urge to cover the cold material with the heat of his mouth, giving her nothing but the skin of his nose above her belt to lift her hips for.  His breath would be hot and wet against the thin cotton and he would press the material up against the apex of her thighs so it moulded to the shape of her, the wet of the rain making it cling to her body.  He wondered how far that droplet had gone, whether it had been stopped so maddeningly close to its goal or whether, somehow, it had found its way down to where the chill of it would make her jump into his waiting tongue.

The deep timbre of her voice was giving the officer some sort of order, her body moving its weight from one foot to another.  He took a sharp breath and looked away, shifting his own body so the unpleasant wet chill of the rain on his clothes pressed against his body in ways he was hoping very much would take care of other problems.

This would not do.  Not only because it had become abundantly clear that he was envious of a rain drop.  But thoughts like this were not ones that had troubled him for a long time and it wasn’t as though he was some inexperienced youth who could not control his own…

He was staring at her stomach again.  In his defence, the shift of her body had dislodged a number of separate drops that mingled with the rain to skate down her body.  So really, he couldn’t be to blame.

That did not, however, give the Stonechild any excuse to be smirking at him like that.  None whatsoever.  Which was infuriating, because the smirk didn’t go away even as they set off down the hill, although Solas’ fears that the dwarf would say something callous were apparently unfounded.  The only thing Varric said, which surprised him slightly, was under his breath so quietly it was only because they were both manoeuvring round a large boulder in the path that Solas heard it at all.

“Secret’s safe with me, Chuckles.”

[malelavellan]

i was gonna make this post earlier but thought better of it but now that ive sat on it its funnier

[thema-sal-shiral]

Sleeping with a Cuddler

A little fill for that list of things about cuddling by itself. :)

“Vhenan…”

Solas prodded the side, or theorized side, of the bundle that was glued to his chest. It was all comforter, sheets and coverlet with tufts of white hair sticking out under his chin and bare legs thrown over his hips like usual. The lump shifted, making a displeased sound, and the freezing feet against his thigh dug in.

After reaching back and shifting the cold skin away from his, he poked again. “Vhenan, wake up.”

“Nnrrgh.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the noise, though his fingers now dug under the cloth to find flesh. “Vhenan.”

“Whaaat?” A flap was lifted, sleepy blue eyes peering up at him. “What, ‘las?”

“My arm-”

“Arm.” Thema pointedly look at the one that was now truly poking her in the side.

“My other arm, Them’. I would like it back, it has fallen asleep.” He couldn’t feel his fingers past where her head rested upon it and the numb sensation was creeping up to his shoulder.

The Inquisitor buried herself back under her layers but shifted her head to his chest. “Jus’ say so nex’ ‘ime.” With those words his love and tormentor dropped back into sleep. There was a soft little snore starting, one he hoped wouldn’t turn into what she called a ‘chainsaw’.

“What is it Dorian says…” Solas muttered, rubbing feeling back into his appendage. “Festis bei umo cavanarum, I believe.”