Solavellan Hell - Tumblr Posts
Trespassers romance ending is so funny, starts with Solas turning around dramatically then delaying the marks magic. Then he softens because he's internally like "I appear terrifying I need to comfort them" then he says I suspect you have questions all soft then Lavellan can drop the bomb if you follow his little hunt that he's the Dread wolf and he CONGRATULATES YOU. Then if you choose to be mad at him for leading through a scavenger hunt he has NO response because he literally could have just TOLD YOU but of course pride. Then he leads you to a cliff to go on his 8 minute monologue about woe an empire fell because people were corrupt, finally Lavellan ask about the future and Solas goes into poetry. Saying he's destroying current Thedas. AND LAVELLAN CAN AGREE THAT, THATS THE BEST COURSE. THEN because the writers needed to cover their ass's Solas is like *anime eyes* "no Vhenan you cannot come with me because I'm afraid you'll see my fursona" KISSES HER AFTER THE MARK STARTS AGAIN THEN DIPS WITH HER ON HER KNEES NOT EVEN TRYING TO FOLLOW HIM.
I just think it's just *chefs kiss* hilarious. Not even moments before hand where your inquisitor can pick the romance dialogue and everyone disapproves excluding the closest thing the inquisitor has to son, a compassion spirit.
Still love how once Lavellan takes a step towards Solas in trespasser when she’s confronting him, he literally takes a step back and hangs his head.
Like dang.
He just turned all these soldiers into stone, turned his back to a woman who held a spear and then turned HER into stone as well, but now is the time when he actually looks a little scared? It’s like her presence just overwhelms him and he has to stay away from her. She can’t touch him or he’ll fall apart.
Gosh it’s just sad but how are y’all doing???
“The veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?” Melancholic scene featuring Solas and my elven Inquisitor Ailis. It’s a very beautiful scene in-game but also very sad 😢💔🐺.
(Drew this almost a year ago, keep forgetting to post on Tumblr but here it is now.)
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Commission for @about2dance of An'da and Solas 🖤
MY LOVE
a study that i took too far
I didn't want to romance Solas at first bc of all the angst but the more I played the more I realized how fucked up the inquisitor Lavellan is even without romancing Solas. Especially in case of a mage...It feels like the game is punishing you for siding with mages and elves or being one yourself. Your companions don't like you, you lose your faith, your entire history is one big lie, you can even lose your entire clan. Both the mage rebellion and the dalish are constantly demonized. You have to listen to racist or pro templar bullshit. No one understands you except for Solas who leaves in the end. I gave his romance another try and oh god. This is like ultimate loneliness and isolation. I had no idea why would someone like Solas fall in love with a modern elf but now I know why. Because Lavellan is like the only one who can see a real person in him. In modern Thedas, he is nothing but another pair of pointy ears. An apostate. An elven hobo. During the days of ancient elves he was nothing but a title. The Dread Wolf. A symbol, not a real person. And literally the same thing can be applied to Lavellan who is being crushed by the weight of their title. Who is being devoured by the narrative until there is nothing left of them. They are so alike, damn. Inquisition companions mostly act like a group of coworkers and Solas doesn't trust even his own agents (hi Felassan). The game ridicules a player for certain opinions and Solas conditionally says he was called a liar, a fool, a madman by both his enemies and his allies alike for trying to share his knowledge. I used to think Solas romance was kinda empty and unsatisfying and holy shit how wrong I was. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Solavellan to me is about finally finding a person who understands you under the shittiest circumstances possible after accepting that you will probably die alone. And then...Being completely destroyed by your own sense of duty. With all the Solas hate in this fandom I kinda forgot he actually...Cares about Lavellan? It wasn't an easy decision to leave. And it was even harder for Solas to not let Lavellan join his cause. He had to get rid of his own humanity for the sake of other elves and he doesn't want his vhenan to do the same. And the most tragic thing about this, that there is not much humanity left of Lavellan anyway. They are tired and lost and alone. Inquisition has changed them, they can't go back and pretend that nothing happened. They are not the same person they used to be. Solas greatest fear is dying alone but in the end of the game my Lavellan felt like they are the one who is slowly dying alone.
Also Solas is bisexual to me I don`t care what bioware say.
raise your hand if you thought solas was “silly bald pajama elf” when they first showed him to us but now you can’t stop thinking about the cute points of his ears and his kind eyes and his full soft lips and his smooth voice and that little scar just above his eyebrow
Creds are watermarked in photo.
Me trying to wait patiently for my commission.
solas: misprounounce “Fen’Harel” one more time bitch
My prediction for Solas dialogue upon meeting Lavellan again in DA4:
One more piece titled 'going wild in procreate fueled by Solavellan angst'
I need Dreadwolf teasers like I need air
What always intrigued me about the storyline with a romanced Solas is that Lavellan was so close to finding out the truth.
She must have had some suspicions before, but she never pushed him for the truth. She gave him time to open up on his own terms, to share when he was ready, which we know he almost did in Crestwood.
I wonder about the demons he fought in his head, the times duty came before love, while at the same time she made him question everything.
Such a tragic lovestory and no I’m still not over it it. :(
🌙 "I'll sew my own dang dress" solavellan enjoy🌙
It is Lavellan's idea of a compromise: she'll use the same colours and fabrics, but she will not be caught in dress blues and riding boots.
"Elgar'nan did not give me the shoulders for that."
Elgar'nan gave you nothing, he wants to tell her. Nothing but blood and murder and deceit. Your people do not call him the god of vengeance for his gifts.
Instead, once they're alone, after they bathed and he rubs lavender oil into the skin of her back, he tells her with teasing touches how she was given wide, soft hips, a narrow waist, a supple bottom and round breasts and to dress them however she likes. Let them know it was a Dalish Elf who saved their Empress, though he does not get to finish the sentence before she is on her knees between his thighs and his hands in her hair.
She insists on sewing her robes by herself. She sucks at her teeth with her tongue as she lays out the heavy, bright red velveteen, the blue silk and golden brocade, lambswool dyed a muted, almost muddy brown.
"Do you require assistance?" He knows she doesn't, but her annoyance at the fabrics roll off of her like thunderclouds that crinkle the pages of his book.
"You'd think three shem nobles who busy three runners all day everyday for three weeks could settle on a colour scheme that doesn't look like the remains of a bluebird caught by a wolf. Or one that doesn't make me resemble a washed-out bog corpse."
"I do not believe the Spymaster is of nobility, vhenan." When he looks over the edge of his book, Lavellan frowns at his wry smile.
"She spent enough time at court; might as well be." She sighs as she gets up from the ground, steps around the yards of cloth and walks over to pick up her haphazard sketches; those she dreams up on the roads, then turns into reality in the hold.
In another world, she might have been the most prolific seamstress in the empire. Every day, one of the Evanuris would have sent for her, for her inspired clothing concepts. He himself would have dressed her in fabrics brighter than the whites of her eyes, magic woven into the threads that her clothes may as well have had minds of their own.
In this world, however, he must content himself with watching her squatted over the floor, muttering in fragmented elvhen as she transfers the scribbles onto the fabric with chalk and then cutting with a dull blade.
"But no. I don't need your assistance. Thank you, though." She holds him by a shoulder, presses a kiss into his scalp as she walks past, kneels back down.
"If it's any consolation: You do not look like a washed-out bog corpse in your nightgown."
"That's because its a muted burgundy satin nightgown, and not apple-red velveteen," she does not even look up from her transferred lines, "and you don't see me wearing it much anyway. If anything, you spend more time taking it off of me than viewing me in it." The hint of red on her eartips matches his.
"I see a lot more than you think." A hiss, she wets her thumb and forefinger with her tongue and scrubs at the velveteen until the line can be redrawn. "I did not take it off last night, did I?"
She barks out a laugh.
"Fair."
She does ask his assistance, eventually, to hold the fabric taut behind her and mark off where to trim so the dress sat on her the way she wanted it to.
He excuses his poor lines by her naked back beneath his fingers, a glimpse of her bare chest through the mirror as she pulls at the neckline just a little too harshly.
"You are a master with fabric, my heart." His breath makes her shiver, though he knows it's not from the cold. The knot in her hair unravels over his shoulder as she leans back.
"I know. But do shower me in compliments, if you please."
"It is a rather heavy fabric, compared to what you prefer to use," he thinks back on silk and satin, chiffon and muslin, "but you make it look like barely more than tulle and the sky at sundown over the coast. I try to imagine what you could do, given enough time and the fabric you wanted, and I fall utterly short."
Loose, flowing chiffon, he thinks, a high, snug waist, a low, deep neckline, decorated straps that hold or hide nothing. The fine gold jewellery she prefers. Though, in his mind, there is only the feeling and vague, blurry patterns of what he knows to sit inside Lavellan's head with perfect clarity.
It makes sense they would find each other in this life, he half-thinks. Artists flock together. Like moths to flame, no matter the medium, his mother would say to him, deep purple smudged over her nose and in her hair.
He drops the velveteen unceremoniously. Their eyes meet through the mirror, and she does not cover up. Unashamed, as she should be.
"Also, if you look like a washed-out bog corpse in bright red, what chance do I have?" He pokes her ribs with a finger; the tannest part of him against the palest part of her, and yet, if they were trees, she would be rosewood and he birch. She snorts.
"Don't they say being pale means you never had to work a day in your life? Looks like you lived the good life, once, wherever your village is." She reaches for him blindly, backwards, one hand on his chin, the other playing at his waist. Her fingers twist underneath his tunic.
"I said it was a small, boring village, not a poor one." Solas kisses her neck, and his fingers crawl around her waist, dig into the flesh of her belly, just a little, before he tears himself away. "I shall let you get back to it. I do not wish to be at fault if you have to appear naked before the Empress."
Lavellan swats at him, laughing, slipping back into leggings and breastband and measuring out grommet holes to his sloppy lining.
Still, before she forces scissor points through the fabric, even before he returns to his spot in the corner of the settee, in front of the fireplace and behind his book.
"Vhenan?"
"Yes, my heart?" No reply, so he turns over the back of his seat.
She looks so small, so young, and yet so wise and confident and larger-than-life.
If anyone should be revered as a living deity, it should be her, right now, with the dark rings under her eyes and the messy hair and the animal hair on her clothes.
"You make me so happy. I don't think I could do this - any of it - without you."
She walks up and grasps his outreached hand like it was all she was ever made to do.
"Don't sell yourself short. All you did, you achieved of your own efforts." He turns her hand, kisses her palm. "Though it does make me happy to hear it; that my presence fulfills you as much as yours does me."
She leans over to him and kisses him, and it takes everything in him to not pull her over the back and into his arms.
"I'm trying to be sweet, and sincere, and you just unpack your eloquence and outdo me." There is no bite in the retort.
"I thought you wished me to shower you in compliments."
He does not have to pull. She climbs over the back of his seat.
"You, my love, may shower me in whatever you wish."
His book only narrowly misses the fire in the hearth.
but also another fic on ao3 [love song for the admiral / cullen x josie] where josie contemplates on the dress blues and i was ALSO like 👀 i see you the inquisition should be a visually joined force
🌙
inspired by a fic on ao3 im reading [the truths between / solavellan] where they put lavellan in a gown and i was like 👀 i see you lavellan should be in a gown
so im about to put lavellan in a gown in red, blue, gold and brown, even though there's only two people in the inquisition who can wear that colour combo and its josie and cully wully :)
then just the usual they horn knee for each other kaboodle dont @ me
This is me the whole time since the trailer came. (And I'lll continue until the game is released)
Ahahahah (😭😭😭😭 I hate myself)
Yep, this is my hc of Rook and Inky. Still thinking about what he would be but for now I'm leaning that he was in Lavellan clan with her and their love was a first one when they was a kids or teens but Tristan was kidnapped by slavers and sold to some Tevinter magister. And because of that Lavellan is probably thought that he is dead when for him she was the only hope in this world to live and get back to her but don't know any news about her (he's probably thought that Inquisition leader was the First of the clan and not her or doesn't believe that she the one, idk). And when he see her and will tell him what "friendship was all"... 🥲 But still he's the golden retriever and will want her to be happy, with or without him. But it's the Thedas story. Originally they was the my couple oc for a long time ago (and the very first ocs what I have) and they have to talk with each other about their feelings and move on. Maybe I'll make a post about them someday bc I have some notes.
Queen & Rook
wip inspired by banter between Solas and Bull when they play chess and Solas sacrifices the queen to win. And for me it's obviously Lavellan in Solavellan playthrough.
And now he get Rook. Will be rook be sacrificed? We'll see. My spirit animal for Tristan(my Rook) is grey fox btw. Loved how he turned out because it was the first time I draw foxes.
Little post about my old sketches of my Lavellan
And wip sketch her and my Solavellan kid: Otsana (her eyes turquoise)
Also now I see how I didn't drew Comet's jaw right...
(I need to draw more humanoids to learning how to draw them but when I do I see how it's bad)
