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pikapeppa · 3 years

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Professor Solas/Lavellan: Dreams

Chapter 15 of Inadvisable (professor Solas modern AU) is posted! Note: I didn’t post Chap 14 here on Tumblr because formatting/I’m lazy, so if you’re following from Tumblr, make sure you don’t miss that chapter!

In which Solas and Nare have a very productive supervisor meeting. UST ahoy. 😂 ~7000 words; read on AO3 instead.

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- SOLAS -

Nare leaned away from Solas’s computer screen with a sigh. “... so after I tried for the fifth time to layer the colours and ended up with just a bunch of muddy-looking landscapes, I got fed up. That’s when I texted you.” She shot him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Bothering you on a Sunday night like that.”

He gave her a gently chiding look over his reading glasses. “I told you, you are never a bother. But this is what I mentioned on Sunday. Layering is not as useful in oil painting as it is with watercolours.” He leaned back in his chair. “What could be helpful, however, is to carry over your gouache techniques instead of the watercolour techniques. Gouache is more opaque — closer in opacity to oils than watercolours, in any case, though the opacity is not nearly as…”

He trailed off in amusement. Nare’s face had fallen into an expression that was very reminiscent of a lightbulb turning on over a cartoon character’s head.

He smiled at her. “You see what I’m suggesting, don’t you?”

“I’ll just create the highlights after the fact,” she exclaimed. “I’ll add them at the end instead of working around the canvas to get the whites.”

“Yes, exactly,” Solas said.

She laughed and ran a hand over her ponytail. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that on my own. I’m an idiot.”

“Don’t insult yourself, Nare,” he said firmly. “It serves no purpose.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Sorry. It’s — it’s automatic. I don’t really mean it.”

He relaxed slightly, then tilted his head. “It is not often that a piece frustrates you to this degree, is it?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I don’t usually start over this many times. Even if I’m not happy with a study, I always just finish it so I can start fresh on the next one.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You always finish your studies?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Even if I don’t like them, I… it’s hard for me to leave them unfinished.” She sighed and leaned back against his desk, and he studied her pensively for a moment. This was something he hadn’t known about her process, and it was certainly enlightening.

In truth, everything he had learned about Nare over the past two weeks was enlightening. In the space of a mere two weeks, Solas already felt like he was becoming well-versed in who she was. With every passing day, he learned more about what excited her and what made her nervous, the things she was most passionate about and the things that made her laugh.

And with every new thing he learned about her, he felt more… aligned with her than he had any right to feel, considering that they had known each other for less than a month. And it wasn’t just their increasingly lengthy supervisor-student meetings that were giving him these fascinating insights into who Nare was.

It was the texts. The insidious, unwise, inadvisable conversations by text message that Solas was incapable of cutting off, no matter that he ought to.

He was still trying to maintain a modicum of professional distance by not being the one to initiate the texts, but that didn’t change the fact that he was checking his phone more eagerly these days than he ever had in his life. In some small and admittedly deluded part of his mind, he had convinced himself that if he kept a small amount of distance, letting Nare be the one to initiate contact, he could maintain a veneer of innocence in this, despite his obvious culpability.

You are the only one who believes me to be a sweet talker. Should I insist on you having a little more discipline? Are you talking back to your supervisor?

His overly candid texts, his inappropriate innuendo-laced remarks, and worse yet, the voice memos...

He was making a mistake, and he knew it. But with every passing day, he found himself caring less and less. He had never texted anyone as often or in the same capacity as he texted with Nare. His texts with Abelas and Dorian were entirely professional, and his texts with Felassan were a bit more frequent and casual with occasional bouts of banter, but he’d never engaged in anything like the texted conversations he had with Nare. And their exchanges really felt like actual conversations. Solas had never realized that it was possible to have such in-depth conversations via text.

He had never realized how quickly the intimacy of a bond could be fostered by the simple medium of typed-out messages on his screen.

Solas forced his mind away from the idea of intimacy and bonds and removed his reading glasses. “Do you recall how in your portfolio submission for this program, I asked you not only to submit your best works, but the ones you consider to be your worst?”

“Yes,” she said.

He nodded. “Your weakest works still displayed good technical skills, and what you remarked on were the technical errors, which told me what you already know: you have a strong technical foundation — a very good handle on perspective, anatomy, colour theory and so on.” He set his glasses on the desk. “What I found interesting is what you didn’t point out in your own weakest pieces.”

Her expression became wary, as though she was afraid of what he would say. “What do you mean?”

“Your weakest pieces all had a stiffness to them,” he said. “A rushed but almost static feel, as though you were stuck on them in some way but forced yourself to finish them just for the sake of being able to say they were finished.”

Her face slackened with surprise. “You could tell that from looking at them?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…” She trailed off and stared at him. Her expression was shifting from surprise to an odd sort of melancholy, almost as though he’d exposed her in some way that she hadn’t expected to be exposed, and he watched her changing expression with some concern.

“Did I offend you?” he said softly.

“No,” she said quickly. “No, it’s not that. I’m just…” She licked her lips nervously. “None of my art professors before ever… remarked on that.”

He frowned slightly at this. “It appears quite obvious to me.”

She shot him a tiny smile, then took a deep breath and folded her arms as though she was cold. “So you could see from those bad pieces that I was struggling just to finish them?”

“Yes, I could,” he said. “Now, having become more familiar with your work and the way you think while you’re painting, I believe that those pieces are the result of you getting trapped in a certain mindset. It is almost like you fall into a groove with them, and you become too focused on finishing them rather than stepping back to re-evaluate their quality.”

She shrugged helplessly. “I get what you’re saying, but I just… I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”

“Studies are never meant to be finished,” he reminded her. “The entire point of a study is essentially to play. To figure out the bones of your piece and to problem-solve.” He frowned. “Your undergraduate art professors allowed you to finish your studies?”

She shrugged again. “They seemed to like it when I did. They thought the finished studies were good.”

“But you didn’t,” he said. It wasn’t a question; he knew she didn’t care for her own finished studies, which was why she had submitted them as her weakest pieces.

“No,” she said.

He frowned more deeply. “You should have trusted your own judgment in this matter.”

She gave him a small smile. “You’re saying I should have ignored the opinions of my professors?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Some professors have better opinions than others.”

She laughed. “I wonder where I can find a professor with a good opinion, then,” she said playfully.

Solas smiled in return, but he didn’t reply. Nare was half-sitting on his desk with her head tilted coquettishly, and he was visited by a heated — and very inappropriate — urge to seat her more firmly on the surface of his desk and to discipline her for her cheeky remark.

Ah yes, he would discipline her slowly. He’d strip off her pants and push her legs apart, and he’d run his tongue slowly and very teasingly along the insides of her thighs until she promised not to talk back to her supervisor anymore.

His cock stirred in his trousers, but he shunted the lustful thoughts away just as he had done every time they’d met in person for the past two weeks. His meetings and his seminar class with Nare were becoming a true test of his self-control. On the one hand, they were satisfyingly productive and intellectually stimulating; every time Solas saw Nare, she had read or watched at least one of his recommended resources, be it an article or a book chapter or a tutorial video, and the ensuing discussions they had were as satisfying as any that he had with any other scholar or artist at the university.

On the other hand, his treacherous lust-fuelled body was so attuned to her that he had to physically force himself not to reach for her whenever she was near.

Solas was torn: torn between his dual urges to discuss everything with her and to devour her. His only saving grace was the fact that he’d finally given in and allowed himself to fantasize about her when he touched himself — which he had being doing almost every night for the past two weeks, to his own mild disgruntlement.

He was sleeping very well, however, so he supposed he couldn’t complain.

“For what it is worth, my opinion is this,” he said. “It appears that you have gotten into a habit of making the completion of a piece your goal, and that you’ll drive toward completing a piece even if you are unsatisfied with it, or if you know something about the piece is off. But finishing a painting should not be your ultimate goal. What you should be striving for is to create something expressive — something that captures the feeling or the message that you intend to convey, whether the form of that creation is a completed painting or a half-finished study or a simple sketch.” He gave her a knowing look. “You should be striving to make something that brings you joy and satisfaction, Nare. Something you can take pride in. It is not enough to finish the piece if you did not derive any satisfaction from it.”

She smiled weakly. “I don’t know that concept artists or other professional artists would agree with you about that.”

He huffed in amusement. “You’re right. Felassan and I have had to agree to disagree about this matter. But to my understanding, you are not aiming to be a concept artist.”

“That’s true,” she said softly. She took a deep breath, then released it. “So instead of trying to always finish the piece, I should just… ask myself if I’m happy with it.”

“Exactly,” he said.

She nodded, then gave him a pleading look. “But I want the art to be good, though.”

“That’s what studies are for,” he reminded her. “Your other professors seem to have forgotten that, but the purpose of a study is to practice. To hone your technical skills as well as your ideas.”

“And what if I find myself grinding away at a piece even though I don’t like it?” she asked. “I should just… what, throw it away?”

He shook his head. “Don’t throw away unfinished pieces. Set them aside and come back to them. When inspiration leaves you dry, the best approach can often be to come back with a fresh perspective. Set the piece aside, focus on something else, let it live at the back of your mind. Then return to it when you are refreshed, even if returning to it means leaving it alone for years.”

“Years!” she exclaimed. “Have you ever left a piece to sit for years before coming back to it?”

“I have, in fact,” he said dryly. “So I believe my opinion about this matter is a valid one.”

She chuckled. “All right. I’m sorry, professor.”

His heart jolted at her playful — and provocative — use of the term. She smiled broadly at him, then exhaled and nodded. “Okay. I’ll work on just… putting things aside and coming back to them.” She smiled wryly. “I’m so impatient, though.”

“I’ll help to coach you in this,” he assured her. “I am very patient.”

“I hope that rubs off on me,” she said.

His belly flipped at the innuendo in her tone. His eyes locked onto hers, her brilliant oceanic eyes, and for a moment they just stood there, frozen in the forbidden but heated thrill that was building between them.

She was still leaning against his desk while he sat in his chair. In this pose, this tense and heated tableau they were locked into, Nare’s knee was nearly brushing his, and he wouldn’t even need to fully extend his arm to touch her. He could place his hand on her waist, brush his thumb over her hip, trail his fingers toward the fly of her pants and peel them open button-by-button until she was panting — all with barely having to try…

He abruptly stood up, then clasped his hands behind his back as he made his way around his desk. “As I mentioned on Sunday, I am happy to provide more hands-on instruction in oil painting techniques. Even one or two sessions could help to build your confidence with this medium.”

“I would love that,” she said. “When can we start? Where should we do the lessons?”

“I will have to check my schedule to determine the best time,” he said. “As for where: the university’s graduate studio would be most convenient. We can easily book a space.” Secretly, however, he was imagining her in his studio at his apartment. The thought of having Nare in his home, standing barefoot in front of an easel while he provided gentle guidance for her slender hands: the fantasy made him feel aroused and protective at the same time, as though he wanted to guard her from others while keeping her selfishly for his own, and he was grateful for the span of space between them as he wandered idly toward his bookshelves.

“The grad studio space sounds good,” she said. She started edging around to the front of his desk as well. “Or, um. I… Tamaris and I have a studio space at our apartment.”

He looked at her. Her expression was shy but hopeful, and when he met her eye, she ducked her head in that bashful way that always made him want to bend her over his desk.

She tucked a russet strand of hair over her ear and let out a little laugh. “That probably wouldn’t work, though. Tamaris uses that space most of the day for her tattoo clients and I don’t want to get in her way. But she, um, she also doesn’t work every day, she always picks a day of the week where she sees no clients, so we could always — I mean, you could come and — all my paints and supplies are already there…”

She was babbling. She looked up and met his eye again, then let out another self-deprecating laugh and rubbed her arms as though she was cold. “Never mind. It’s a dumb idea. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Solas didn’t reply. Truly, in this moment, he was forcing himself not to speak or to move. The way her manner shifted so seamlessly from bold and flirtatious to bashful and demure was so… fenedhis, it was a perfect dichotomy, like two glimmering facets that melded so perfectly in this one beautiful young woman, and each side of her seemed to call to something different and complementary in the depths of his soul.

He wanted to teach her and to watch her bloom. He wanted to pin her down and make her beg. He wanted to protect her from any clumsy lovers who would fail her, and he wanted to imprint himself on her body so thoroughly that she would forget any other lovers who had come before.

Solas wanted Nare so badly that it was a physical ache, and with every passing beat of his heart, he had to remind himself of the ugly truth: he absolutely could not have her. He could banter with her and text her and savour the undeniable electricity between them, but at all costs, he needed to remember: Nare was not his to have.

He inhaled slowly through his nose to master himself. “Let us stick to the plan of booking a student space for this,” he said. “Teaching you at your home studio would be unwise.”

He regretted his word choice the moment it left his mouth: Nare straightened with interest. “Unwise? Why?”

Because I would be far too tempted to ravish you if we were alone, he thought. “Not unwise,” he amended quickly. “Inappropriate.”

Her hopeful expression became playful. “What, you’ve never taught any other students at their studios at home?”

He gave her a chiding look, even as his heart swelled with a heated sort of amusement. Shy one moment and cheeky the next… she was such an irreverent little vixen.

“I haven’t,” he said calmly. “But you are the first fine arts graduate student I have had since I began working at the University of Orlais.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding! Why? There must have been tons of students who wanted to work with you.”

“None that met my standards,” he said. “Felassan says my standards are frighteningly high. And that is not sweet talking, as you would say,” he added wryly. “That is the simple truth.” He paced slowly in front of his bookshelf as he went on. “You are already a very good artist, Nare. With some tutelage and guidance, I have no doubt that you will be exceptional.”

She smiled shyly and sat on the couch. “How can you have such faith in me when I don’t have that kind of faith in myself?”

“Many of the finest artists are shackled by self-doubt and uncertainty,” he replied. “The artists who succeed are the ones who channel that uncertainty into a drive to improve their work.”

“So do you think it’s good that I’m always criticizing myself?”

“Your self-criticism can go one of two ways,” he explained. “It can become a weight that prevents you from progressing, or it can become an objective lens that will drive you to improve for the rest of your life. As objective a lens as there can be when it comes to art, at least,” he added with a small smile.

“You won’t let me get weighed down by my doubts, will you?” she asked.

He paused in his pacing and faced her. “I will not let that happen, Nare,” he said seriously. “Do not worry about that.”

“I’m not worried,” she said. “I trust you.”

I trust you. Her words were simple and guileless, but for some reason, they hit him like a bolt of emotion straight to the gut. For her to say that to him so easily and so quickly, with such perfect sincerity, even though they had known each other for less than a month…

She let out another breathy little laugh and nervously adjusted her bracelets. “Honestly, I… I trust your judgment more than… more than any other professor I’ve ever had.”

He swallowed hard. “I am honoured by your trust,” he said quietly.

Her answering smile was sweet, and Solas admired her with a mixture of lust and regret and inexplicable tenderness — tenderness that he absolutely should not be feeling for his student, but which had burst upon him nevertheless, like a sunshower that he had been both unable and unwilling to avoid.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of them spoke. And in this tense and electric moment, Solas swore to himself that he would never betray Nare’s trust, no matter what happened.

Nare was the one to break the silence. “We spend so much time talking about my work,” she said. “I’d love to hear about yours. Are you working on any paintings right now?”

He relaxed, grateful for the innocuous change of subject. “I��m afraid to admit that I’m not.”

“You aren’t?” she said.

He smirked. “There’s no need to look at me like that. I realize the irony.”

She chuckled. “As long as you realize it. What have you been sketching or drawing, then?”

He smiled at her. In one of their meetings, he had told her that he drew or sketched every day even when he wasn’t actively painting, and he was flattered that she had remembered that little detail of his routine.

He shrugged and resumed his slow pacing. “I haven’t drawn anything worth showing lately,” he said — a near-lie, unfortunately. In truth, he’d been refining the sketch of the eager hands in the hopes of turning it into a fully-finished drawing. It would be the first realistic anatomical drawing he had done in several years. But he was keeping this particular piece to himself for now.

Nare gave him a skeptical look. “Oh come on, I don’t believe that. Your sketchbook must be full of amazing work.”

“I don’t use a sketchbook,” he replied.

Her eyes widened. “Wait, really? What do you sketch on, then?”

“I draw on loose cardstock,” he said. “I dislike being constrained by the binding of a sketchbook or the height of a stack of pages. It interferes with the positioning of my hand.”

She beamed at him, and the warmth in her expression lifted an answering warmth in his belly. “What amuses you?” he said softly.

“It’s just such a specific preference,” she said. “Like a special quirk.” She tilted her head. “I like knowing special little things about you.”

He huffed and rubbed his chin. “Then perhaps you’ll be entertained to hear about the shelf of haphazardly stacked cardstock sketches in my studio at home.”

“You’re kidding!” she exclaimed. “What, just piled on a shelf?”

“Yes,” he said with a small smile. “It’s quite a mess.”

She giggled and eyed his less-than-organized desktop. “That actually doesn't surprise me.”

He playfully lifted one eyebrow. “That’s disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry, professor,” she said, equally playfully. “Are your loose sketches dated, at least?”

He winced, and Nare laughed again. “No! That’s really terrible!”

He chuckled. “Athera would be horrified if ever she saw my shelf of sketches.”

“She would!” Nare agreed. “It would be a nightmare for her. I wouldn’t mind helping you to organize your shelves, though.”

Solas carefully maintained his pleasantly neutral expression. This was not the first time Nare had hinted at wanting to see his apartment, and every time she did, he got a thrill at the thought — and immediately changed the subject to stop himself from inviting her over like he so desperately wanted to do.

“That’s a kind thought,” he said. “At any rate, to answer your original question: no, I’m not working on any serious painted pieces at the moment.”

“How come?” she said. “Haven’t you been having interesting dreams?”

“My dreams have been a bit light on inspiration as of late,” he said. “Luckily, I keep a journal to jot down my more interesting dreams so I can come back to them when I am lacking in new ideas.”

Her eyes widened in wonder. “You have a dream diary?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’d love to see it,” she said eagerly.

He hesitated. “Well, it’s… rather private,” he hedged. Few people knew about his dream journal — only Felassan and Abelas and a couple of others — and none had ever asked to see it before. But the thought of showing something so private to Nare was dangerously tempting.

She pulled a little face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I’m honoured by your interest. It’s… uncommon to receive this much interest in my process.”

“That makes sense, if you haven’t had an art student in so long,” she said knowingly. “I bet any fine art student would be really interested in your process.”

“Your interest is what pleases me,” he said without thinking.

A flush lit her cheeks, and the flare of hope in her eyes was so obvious and so beautiful that it made him feel like he was falling off of a cliff.

He hastily changed the subject. “I would be happy to share some of my more interesting dreams. The ones that I can recall, at least.”

She straightened. “Really? I’d love that!”

“All right,” he said. He leaned against the edge of his desk and folded his arms. “There was one dream I had of late: a figure so striking that I was forced to rise from my bed to sketch it out.” He tilted his head. “The Dalish tell tales of spirits, yes?”

“Yes, we do,” she said. She gestured at her face. “In Dalish traditions, our vallaslin was meant to help us connect with the spirit world.”

He nodded slowly. “The spirit world of which you speak is likely different from our Arlathani lore, but I suspect that our stories share their bones. In any case, the striking figure from my dream was a spirit that I call the Shadow Goddess.” He narrowed his eyes and tried to remember the details of the elusive dream. “Hidden by a cloak of the deepest black, she walked the Fade along the southern tundra — weeping, lonely, and forgotten. More than that, I couldn’t tell; I woke before her story could unveil itself to me. But the essence of her tale still lingers in my mind: a loneliness so dark and deep that even light was chased away by her endless solitude.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Nare spoke. “Solas, that’s… so sad.”

Her voice was small and slightly breathless. When Solas met her eye, it was to find her looking very serious, but also somehow… on edge. Not nervous, not afraid, but still on edge somehow.

“It was a very sad dream, yes,” he said softly. “You can see why I haven’t been able to bring myself to paint it yet.”

She nodded. “I can’t decide if I’d want to see it painted or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked.

A tiny frown creased her brow. “If it meant you had to be that sad to paint it? I would never want you to be that sad.”

He smiled faintly. “I suppose you have a point. I should be grateful that I have not yet had the heart to paint the lonely Shadow Goddess.”

She nodded, then leaned forward a little bit. “Can you tell me another dream?”

“Certainly,” he said. “Let me try and recall another.” He stepped away from his desk and sat on the other end of the couch. “There was one dream I had — a dream inspired, in fact, by an article I read in an Elvhen history journal.”

“An article? Really?”

He nodded. “The article was about the ruins of ancient Arlathan. When finally I went to sleep, my sleeping mind was mired among the burning ruins of the ancient city.” He crossed his ankle over his knee. “Marble towers and arches stretched above my head, higher than the eye could see, but all of it grew black with ash: the burnt remains of a once-grand home, unable to stop its own demise.”

She nodded and let out a slow and slightly shaky exhale, and Solas frowned. “Nare, are you all right?” he said. Her expression was still serious, but she looked even more tense than before. Her knees were pressed together, and her fingers were clenched in the leather seat of his couch.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I, um… your dreams are always so sad.”

He studied her carefully as he replied. “This dream wasn’t sad, in fact. It was filled with rage.”

“Rage? Why?”

“It is commonly believed that ancient Arlathan was burned during the old wars between Arlathan and Tevinter,” he said. “But the article I read revealed the truth: the city had been burnt before those wars had even reached their heights — burnt from within by its own people.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, but Solas couldn't help but notice that the tips of her ears were pink, almost as though she was getting flushed.

Curious now, he went on. “Rage was what defined my dream. The blackened ash that stained the stones and hid the beauty of old Arlathan: marks of rage, brought upon the city by its own forgotten people.”

She inhaled slowly through her parted lips, and Solas’s own breath stalled in his chest as he watched her. She was shifting subtly on the couch, arching her spine and brushing her knees together in a distinctly restless way…

He suddenly realized what was going on.

Her tense posture on his couch. Her request to hear more of his dreams, and her shameless texted requests for voice memos. Her precious confession, saved in his phone, that ‘I really like your voice’...

The realization hit him like a thunderclap — an incredible, terrible, maddening thunderclap.

She was getting aroused.

She nibbled her lower lip — fenedhis, it wasn’t fair, he wanted to be the one to nibble that lip — then she looked him in the eye. “Can you tell me another?”

He stared at her, stunned with wonder. Nare was turned on by the sound of his voice. And by requesting more stories, she was shamelessly asking him to arouse her even more.

This was bad. He should say no. He ought to say no. He knew exactly how dangerous this was for them both, and it was his responsibility to say no.

But that smug and foolish sense of pride was unfurling through his limbs again, taking control of his body and making him shift slightly closer to her on the couch.

He lowered his voice. “I will tell you one last dream,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes please,” she breathed.

Yes, please. Ah, to hear her say this in a much more intimate context — and with considerably fewer clothes between them…

He leaned back and draped his arm along the back of the couch. “This final dream I’ll share with you was about a garden,” he said quietly. “Flowers bloomed across a vast expanse, stretching far into the haze of a horizon that my eyes could not perceive. But these flowers were unlike any I have ever seen. And this, I admit, is why my hand has never given shape to this particular dream: the flowers in this garden were so strange and foreign that I couldn’t hope to replicate their likeness.”

He paused for a moment to study her. Her eyes were half-closed and her lips slightly parted, and a rush of nearly-vicious desire fanned through his body. The look on her face right now, this look of languorous and shameless desire: how many times had he imagined such a beautiful expression on her face? How many times had he imagined seeing her look like this while he stretched her arms above her head, while he dipped his fingers between her legs, while he whispered soft and heated words into her ear — not unlike what he was nearly doing now?

Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment, then lifted as she turned her head to look at him. “Please,” she said. “Can you tell me more?”

Please. Such a simple and innocent word, but in Nare’s husky voice, it sounded anything but innocent.

He hesitated before speaking, however. There was, in fact, more to this particular dream that he could tell her, but he knew he shouldn't.

And for that reason, his contrary and lustful lips opened to tell her anyway. “At first, the garden was like any other: rich in colour and pleasing to the eye,” he said. “But as I waited in that garden, I discovered that those blooms were not just simple static flowers. With every breath that filled my lungs, the flowers seemed to pulse and sway. Their pulsing was… familiar somehow, like a song I had once known and had forgotten: the heartbeat of a foreign place, made familiar again by the whims of my sleeping mind.” He leaned toward her slightly and lowered his voice a little more. “I felt myself begin to wake, but I wasn’t ready to rise yet from that strange and familiar dream. I remained in that garden, feeling the pleasing floral beat as it swelled inside my chest, and when finally I woke…” He trailed off. This whole suggestive story was leading toward one conclusion, and it was a conclusion that he didn’t dare verbalize to her, not even with this misplaced cocky pride that had taken control of his tongue.

She gazed at him, her expression avid with curiosity and desire. “What happened when you woke up?” she asked.

He raised his eyebrows, and her eyes went very wide. “You — did you, um…” Her eyes darted to the bulge at his crotch, and Solas felt himself throbbing as though his cock was summoned by the heat of her gaze.

Her eyes returned to his face, and she swallowed hard before speaking again. “Did you have to take a shower when you woke up?” she whispered.

“I’m afraid so,” he said, very quietly.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh gods. Um, that’s…” She clenched her fingers on her thighs, then pressed her knuckles to her mouth, and Solas studied her very obvious reaction with all the ravenous hunger of a wolf studying its mouth-watering prey.

Nare closed her eyes, and for a long, delicious, endless minute, Solas stared at her while she dragged in a series of deep and tremulous breaths. Her knuckles were pressed to her lips as though to muffle herself, and her other hand was clenched on her thigh, and Solas wished that he could push her hand away and replace it with his own.

But he didn’t reach for her. He didn’t shift any closer to her on the couch. He stayed exactly where he was, still and unmoving with one arm draped casually along the back of the couch. For all that he craved her, for all the lust that was howling in his blood as he studied Nare’s arched spine and her fiery red hair that he longed to wrap his hands in, he couldn’t bring himself to touch her first.

If she touched him, however…

Fenedhis, he didn’t know what he would do. At this particular moment, he was fairly sure that the mere brush of her finger on his knee would be enough to make him pounce.

I can’t, he thought desperately. With an enormous effort of will, he forced himself to stand. “Well, I hope that this meeting gives you enough guidance to try again with your study,” he said briskly. “And I will certainly email you about a time for us to meet at the studio for a lesson.”

She lowered her hand from her lips and looked at him, and he very nearly quailed. The look in her eyes, the sheer uninhibited lust and pleading in her beautiful face: her expression was exactly as he’d always imagined — no, it was better than he’d imagined. Both better and worse, if he was honest. The naked desire in her face was better than he’d imagined, because it was real: it was real and true, tangible and visible proof that the way he felt for her was mutual and shared.

And it was worse than he’d imagined, because this incredible feeling was completely forbidden.

She tilted her head pleadingly. “Solas, please…”

Please. He couldn’t bear to hear this word from her, because it was exactly what he wanted to hear.

He shook his head slightly — both for his own sake and hers. “That’s enough for now, Nare,” he said. “Come.” He made his way over to his office door and waited for her to rise.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then exhaled heavily and stood up from the couch. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder as she joined him at the door, and when she reached for the doorknob, he was torn between relief and a very visceral sense of loss.

She paused and looked up at him. “So I’ll… I’ll see you on Thursday morning, then?” she said breathlessly. “For our usual meeting?”

He smiled, genuinely amused despite his horrible desire. “You’re forgetting about our seminar this afternoon.”

Her jaw dropped, and she burst into laughter. “Oh no, I did!” she exclaimed. “We really are fated to keep forgetting about the seminar!”

He grinned and clasped his hands behind his back. “To date, you have forgotten more often than I.”

“It’s not my fault!” she protested.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that I’m to blame for your poor memory?”

She laughed again, then gave him a sly smile. “Not for my poor memory, no,” she said quietly. “For your sweet talking.”

He huffed, but her words gave him a little pang of guilt. Now that the worst of his prideful lust was starting to abate, the reasonable part of his mind was growing louder and clamouring at him for his extremely irresponsible behaviour just now.

He bowed his head. “You are probably right. I should curb my tendency to talk at such length.”

To his delight and his deep dismay, she took a little step closer to him. “Or maybe I should try some sweet talking of my own,” she murmured.

His semi-calm cock instantly hardened once more, but he forced his expression to remain neutral. “I wouldn’t advise that,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked.

He gazed into her eyes: her bold and beautiful cerulean eyes, bright with laughter and mischief — provocative eyes to go along with her provocative smile…

Provoked by Nare’s taunting, his barely-leashed sense of lustful pride reared its head once more. He took a step closer to her, and her eyes widened.

Then he took another step closer to her still, and another, and then she was backed against the office door while Solas loomed over her.

He placed one palm carefully on the door beside her head. “You know exactly why,” he said, very quietly.

She didn’t reply. Her eyes were huge and feverishly hot, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Beautiful, he thought dizzily. Nare was beautiful and lustful and brilliant, and most strange and unfathomable of all, she wanted him. But… fenedhis, this was utterly and completely inadvisable, and they both knew it.

She nervously licked her lips, and Solas’s gaze helplessly dropped to her mouth. She lifted her chin—

Someone knocked on the door.

They both jumped, and Solas hastily stepped away from her. “Just a moment,” he called. “I’m finishing a meeting.”

“All right,” Abelas replied through the door.

Solas exhaled through his pounding heart and looked at Nare. She was covering her mouth with both hands, and her eyes were huge.

He gave her a reassuring look. “Be calm, Nare,” he whispered. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

She nodded and took a few slow breaths, and Solas carefully backed away from her. A tense moment later, she lowered her hands and gave him a sheepish but beautiful smile. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered.

He nodded, then smoothed a hand over his scalp before gesturing politely at the door. Nare opened the door and smiled at Abelas as she stepped out of the office.

“Hi, Professor Abelas,” she said politely, and Solas felt a completely unreasonable rush of possessiveness. He was feeling jealous about Nare calling Abelas by his own title? He must be going mad.

Abelas nodded to her. “Nare,” he greeted. He stepped into Solas’s office and held out an envelope. “Tamlen gave this to me by mistake.”

“Ah,” Solas said. He took the envelope and carefully did not watch Nare as she walked away. “Is that all?”

Abelas nodded briskly. “I’ll be leaving the office for an early lunch. I’ll go straight to my one o’clock meeting when I am finished.”

Solas raised his eyebrows, actually distracted by this surprising news. “You’re leaving the office for lunch? Is there a lecture happening somewhere?”

“No,” he said. “It is a working lunch. A last-minute arrangement.”

“Ah,” Solas said. “My condolences.” He was well aware of Abelas’s distaste for last-minute plans. “You couldn’t turn it down?”

“Apparently not,” Abelas said ruefully. “I will see you later.” He turned away to return to his office, and Solas closed his office door.

He made his way over to his desk, then plopped down in his chair with a sigh and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He really must be going mad. Allowing himself to be provoked by Nare’s subtly arched spine and her soft little murmurs of please, telling her tales about his dreams even though he knew that his voice was riling her up, pinning her against the door and staring at her lips like a mindless lustful fool…

He rubbed his face, then straightened in his chair and clicked his mouse. He opened his documents and forced himself to concentrate on the article he’d been translating from Elvhen to common, but even as he worked on his translation, part of his mind was greedily running through his meeting with Nare, picking out the most deliciously suggestive things she’d said and done and storing them away for later when he was alone.

Her coquettish smile… Solas, please.. The arch in her spine as she sat on his couch… Maybe I should try some sweet talking of my own… The heated, feverish, pleading look in her eyes as he pinned her back against the door…

He cock throbbed insistently in his pants. He sighed and ignored it, then went back to tapping away at his keyboard.

Nare’s degree was going to be a very long two years.

#solas #solavellan #professor solas #professor solas au #inadvisable #pikapeppa writes

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ninevillains · 5 years

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so i'm trying to draw a picture of a dude in a bathing suit... i was wondering if you could give me some pointers? especially in the anatomy lol

Sure! Excuse me if I go into too much detail. Or not enough! Feel free to message me again if you still have questions after this.

Short version:

1. Find a reference picture or two

2. Copy or analyze/reconstruct the image(s) to the best of your ability. (If you’re going to share your art publicly, you should use a license-free image, or credit/ask the owner – assuming that your art and the reference are clearly similar.)

3. ???

4. Profit

Long version:

1. Gather good reference

Tumblr, Pinterest, Instagram, Youtube, Google… the internet is full of attractive people. Find some pictures that look close to the result you want. I like workout videos or TV/movie scenes because it’s always useful to see your subject from multiple angles, and I can select the exact frames that look best to me.

Sometimes I use little action figures, or 3D models in apps like Skelly or Handy, when I’m trying to figure out a pose. You can also use pics of yourself or friends. A big mirror or a smartphone is all you need to be your own model.

Don’t hesitate to take inspiration from art you really like. Instead of copying it, analyze why it appeals to you, and see how you can apply that in your own work.

2. Draw the pose first!

One of my favorite general principles in art is to work from big to small, or general to specific.

Try to capture the basic shape and position of the pose before you consider individual muscles. Place the head, torso, and limbs as flat boxy shapes using straight lines or simple curves.

At this stage it’s still easy to make changes and correct things. Don’t rush ahead to the muscles before you’re satisfied with the pose.

This is more or less how I start a figure:

(Both of these dudes are missing a cranium, and there are other proportion issues, so don’t mistake this as reference for anything but the overall drawing approach.)

3. Think of muscles as flat shapes

Muscles are complex interlocking 3D forms, but you don’t have to think of them that way in the beginning, especially if you’re sticking close to your reference. It’s easier to map the positions of the muscles onto your blocked-in pose with straight lines and basic curves, just like you did for the head, torso, and limbs. (See the chest of the second figure I posted above.)

This step is all about creating a clear guide for your final lines.

4. Final lines (or) additional steps

At this point you can make the contour more realistic, get the muscles just right, and add in more details from your reference, because you’ve got the pose established and you’ve figured out where all the major shapes are placed. If you tried to do this all at once, without blocking in the pose, you’d probably end up with a figure that’s way out of proportion.

For the final lines, work on top of your sketch. If it’s a traditional drawing, erase the sketch with a kneaded eraser until you can barely see it. If it’s a digital drawing, just lower the opacity of your sketch layer and make a new layer for your final lines on top.

If you’re familiar with constructive drawing (using perspective knowledge to translate your 2D drawing into basic 3D shapes, like wireframes), now is a good time to take your sketch further, using cross-contour lines and more accurate forms to define the figure in 3D space. Then you can do the final line work, or move on to the lighting or coloring phase.

Art is hard, so try to keep things simple and focus on one thing at a time. I try to think in a step-by-step way even when I ignore my own advice and rush to finish a drawing.

Generally speaking, the pose and overall proportions are much more important than detailed anatomy. Anatomy is the icing on the cake.

Resources for learning!

I should say that the main thing I covered in this post is an approach to blocking in a figure from reference. I left out a lot of the form building stuff that I rely on for most of my work, because it’s a huge subject, and you can get great results without all the complications if you use good reference.

To get the most out of your reference, it helps to learn observational drawing. Dorian Iten’s accuracy guide has some very useful tips.

In addition to observational drawing from reference, I use a constructive drawing approach, which I learned from resources like this:

Draw a Box - A great intro to constructive drawing. Highly recommended.

Figure Drawing: Design and Invention by Michael Hampton - Great to study after you know basic form construction, and before you dig too deep into anatomy.

My all time favorite figure drawing teacher is Steve Huston. Brilliant teacher and equally good artist. His book, Figure Drawing for Artists: Making Every Mark Count, is the single best guide to figure drawing that I’ve found. Also check out his lessons on New Masters if you want to get really serious.

Bryan Lee has posted a lot of great figure drawing tutorials and notes on his DeviantArt page. You can dig up most of the good stuff in his Tutorials section, and by searching his gallery for notes.

—

My ego is forcing me to add a disclaimer: More experienced artists will see that the work I post here doesn’t really do justice to the principles I mentioned. Trust me, I know my doodles are a horror show of errors. This is my fanart blog for chillaxing and trying very hard not to be the perfectionist who hates everything that’s not fit for a professional portfolio.

#my asks #art advice #not art

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defendglobe · 6 years

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Burning question. Does Thomas fuck? As in the train. Does he fuck? It's four am and in this essay I will discuss the delicate concept of tank engine sex. First off we gotta think about how trains in the Thomas-verse are created. Unlike in Cars there are humans around in the Thomas universe so it's possible they were all made by humans like trains are made irl. It seems less likely that they would somehow give birth to other trains because if I remember correctly the trains are kinda subservient to the humans. Which is more suggestive of the trains being the property of the humans instead of being independent. So they probably don't fuck for reproductive purposes (somebody's religious grandma just died out of horror) but maybe they fuck for fun. After working on the railroad all the livelong day there's nothing better than filthy hot sweaty train sex. Also have y'all seen Gordon? That looks like a son of a bitch who fUCKS. James wants you to THINK he fucks but let's get real, he's a fucking incel. All the trains live in that line round house right? You think they hear everything when one of more of the trains decide it's time to get freaky? Do they just ignore it and try to pretend they don't hear anything? Do they yell at the offending trains to quiet down? Or do they join in and the train house constantly breaks out into wild fuckin orgies? I'm not a train so don't look at me. Obviously the how is the most important aspect of train sex. Unlike the cars from cars, these fuckin trains haVE INSIDES. We See them and humans ride in them. Is there maybe a sexual component to that? If I remember correctly they have fuckin fires in there which seems kinda hot. Does this mean that sex is exclusively human on train? Are the humans aware of this? The funnels on top of the trains heads seem like they could be used in sexy fun times too. Maybe putting it in your mouth h and treating it like a ween is erotic. In a human on train liaison maybe you could even SIT on the funnel and ride that fucker to kingdom come (haha). Now how do the trains fuck each other? I don't know if they can hold shit in their teeth but if they can do that then maybe they just pick up a stick or something and ram it into another trains insides. Maybe they just kinda scrape against each other and that's erotic or whatever. That'd probably mess up their paint though and let everyone around know that this specific train Has Fucked so some trains probably try to avoid this method of pleasuring. Some trains show that shit off to let the world know they get more locomotive pussy than you do. Those are the chads of the train world. Probably. If like in cars, the genital area of trains is their underside than the same idea as lightning McQueen pussy eating dilemma comes up. They probably need like a car (train) lift to get at the goods. I dont even know if they have those for trains but hey it's a show about trains with faces so fuck off I'll take artistic liberties here. I wonder if fondling a trains wheels equates to a foot fetish. It might be foolish of me to assume that wheels = feet because I don't own a Fucken human/train anatomy conversion chart. Im just a simple bitch with a thirst for answers and no shred of dignity left. I feel bad for trains who have fetishes incompatible with their anatomy like handjobs (however that works for cars) or VORE (can't really swallow anything Alive when you have no stomach. Pour one out for the unfulfilled tank engines on the island of baking soda. Disclaimer: I haven't seen Thomas the train since I was like eight years old so my Thomas lore is a bit rusty. Forgive me for any continuity errors and canon contradictions that may be found.

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webpostingpro-blog · 7 years

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New Post has been published on Webpostingpro

New Post has been published on https://webpostingpro.com/guards-at-the-taj-review-bloody-tale-probes-the-price-of-beauty/

Guards at the Taj review – bloody tale probes the price of beauty

This important new-writing hub in west London has had an excellent £4.3m makeover. It has obtained a brand new studio and rehearsal room in addition to a pitcher-fronted entrance and a garden terrace searching directly to the street. With a neat experience of irony, it additionally reopens with a prize-winning off-Broadway play by way of Rajiv Joseph that asks whether there may be a fee to be paid for thinking of architectural splendor.

Joseph’s play follows the sample of Tom Stoppard’s

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Lifeless in that it indicates two people at the margin of momentous occasions in which they turn out to be fatally worried. The yr is 1648 and the two guys are imperial guards standing with their backs to the but-to-be-discovered Taj Mahal. One of them, Babur, is packed with unquenchable interest; the other, Humayun, is all obedient orthodoxy. No longer only are the 2 guys forbidden to take a look at the building – in addition they repeat the story that the emperor has ordered that the 20,000 men who constructed the Taj have to have their hands cut off lest they ever create something as beautiful again.

This is one of the many legends surrounding the Taj,

But Joseph uses it to discover, in a way this is intelligent with out being overwhelmingly dramatic, some of philosophical ideas. One is whether or not there is some thing self-defeating approximately artistic perfection that defies repetition. Every other is whether or not there are any limits to the human quest for knowledge. “I suppose God wants us to examine an increasing number of things,” says Babur, who imagines that in the future there might be a flying palanquin that transports people thru the skies.

All of this, in addition to the portrait of the capricious arbitrariness of absolute power, is fascinating. The trouble is that Joseph is compelled to push his plot into fantastic nation-states so as to sustain the ideas. Particularly, he treats the dismemberment delusion as though it have been a fact.

Strategies For Security Guards When Dealing With Angry People

Protection guards frequently find themselves in situations where they must cope with people who are indignant, tough or in an altered state of mind. This may range from someone being denied access to party or occasion, or fielding the wrath of these who have been ready in lengthy strains or crowded, overpopulated regions. A fundamental information of human psychology and a strong set of communication abilities can significantly help when Security officers and/or bodyguards are in these conditions. There are several ways to diffuse a situation with an angry person or deal with hard people in widespread, all of which relate to these kinds of abilties and

Listening: while on the receiving stop of an angry individual,

The security guard need to demonstrate right listening capabilities, even though they realize the agitated individual is in the wrong. Through letting the character vent their frustrations and have their say, he/she may additionally become less difficult to address. One of the predominant reasons customers and ordinary citizens lose their cool and end up aggressive is the sensation that they are no longer being heard; a easy acknowledgement in their feelings can lessen the intensity of the situation. Allow them to recognize that they have got valid purpose to be dissatisfied and guarantee them that their state of affairs is being dealt with as rapidly as possible.

Knowledge: Safety officials must attempt to empathize on every occasion feasible understanding Information of why the individual is upset.

while appropriate, saying some thing like “I can imagine information frustrated you need to be, and that i apologize for the inconvenience,” is all a person wishes to hear to take their anger down a few notches and redirect their emotions in a one of a kind way. Let them understand that their feelings are important, and that their complaint will no longer pass disregarded. Be sure no longer to seem condescending whilst voicing your Expertise; if the character feels belittled on top of the whole thing else, their demeanor ought to intensify and the guard will have to paintings two times as tough to calm them down.

Now not reacting: Most significantly, the officer have to in no way react to a person’

S aggression with extra aggression. Even though it’s miles tempting to fit this man or woman’s tone and “stand one’s floor,” yelling back at an agitated man or woman won’t accomplish anything productive and could make the officer or defend seem unprofessional. Guards should try to ignore insults and careless feedback as nice they could, notwithstanding their growing frustration. angry people often say things inside the heat of the instant and do not imply a good deal of what they’re venting. Additionally, it’s appropriate and useful to admit errors if the scenario calls for it.guards meaning

The Health Benefits of the Virgin Bloody Mary Drink

Cocktails are a whole lot of amusing irrespective of what the surroundings. There are a few individuals who without a doubt do no longer want to drink cocktails due to the fact they do no longer revel in the negative fitness results which they face with the aid of consuming too much alcohol. This causes human beings to avoid cocktails altogether, but there are many cocktails which can be made in a non alcoholic model to be able to have extremely good health benefits for you. One of the pleasant recipes you could have without alcohol is the virgin Bloody Mary drink. So, placed away the punch and the wine. placed the beer lower back inside the fridge and get prepared to strive a recipe for a more healthy cocktail every person can revel in.bloody slang

Why the Bloody Mary is Healthful

The main factor in a Bloody Mary is The primary purpose why the drink is so Healthy initially. The tomato juice which is used for the cocktail consists of many extraordinary vitamins in a concentrated dosage. One of the most plentiful vitamins is Lycopene. That is a water soluble nutrition that’s excellent for your coronary heart. It allows in putting off clogs which can be resulting from plaque on your arteries in addition to other coronary heart maladies.

You’ll also discover lots of vitamin C in tomato juice. Many people are ignorant of how a whole lot vitamin C you may get from a tomato. Considering the fact that Tomato juice carries all of the water from the tomato, you are becoming every ounce of nutrition C the tomato has to provide. What better way to revel in it than with the highly spiced concoction this is the Bloody Mary drink. You will even locate You may eat less sugar and sodium than You may in case you have been to drink a smooth drink of the same extent.

How to Growth the health blessings

At the same time as the standard Bloody Mary is already quite Healthy, You’ll experience even extra blessings whilst you pair it with a stalk of celery or even upload celery puree to your combination. Adding garlic and onions is another excellent coronary heart Healthy way to drink yourself into a more healthy future. Even the addition of the spice is a amazing manner to Boom metabolism and awaken the senses. you could find this in horseradish or in hot sauce. Each of those are common substances. Use clean lime juice inside the cocktail and the health blessings will undergo the roof.

How A Beauty Therapists Provide Important Role!

Beauty Therapists works expert together with style, media, hairdressing and fitness care . They comply with the developments in Beauty system and rule of factor of their own united states and abroad and constantly replace and broaden their information and professional talents.

Amazon beauty products

Learning to examine and lifetime Learning are essential so as to expand one’s abilties. These days, a high-quality attitude toward new era and its programs is critical. A Beauty therapist ought to be in top health and able to deal with physical pressure, specially at the frame’s locomotive system.

In recent years, there have been a tremendous increase for Beauty Care Offerings and Make-up Offerings, even hair care professional and hairstylist are becoming increasingly in call for.inner beauty

Consequently to gather the understanding of cosmetology, expertise of dietary technology, era and programs of Splendor system in renovation and development of the health and splendor and in enhancing their look within the skin, hair, nails and entire frame.

A number of those Offerings require a cosmetology

license and a few different require specialised training and certification inside the understanding of cosmetology, look at of Splendor lifestyle is vital, a number of the clinical subjects, concentrates at the health care and elegance of the skin and on the artistic use of beauty. Taking cautions take care of your pores and skin and frame, and the way to pick and use skincare products. Manicure and pedicure assist to take care the hygiene, comfort and appearance.

Supplying remedy to customers calls for the skill of knowledge of remedy work and hygiene, anatomy and body structure, and pores and skin shape and its features. with the intention to provide great take care of their clients, Splendor therapists have to recognise about the ingredients used in cosmetics, and approximately products, skin care techniques and Beauty equipment and the way they affect the skin and frame and also offer the greater help to the complete of the skincare.

Giving advice on skincare requires expertise of nutritional technology

Pores and skin conditions and hygiene, the significance of anatomy and physiology and physical sporting events,. They are able to offer advice on a way to use shades as in Makeup and clothes or accessories wears, discover a private style and to decorate ones appearance.

Beauty therapists’ arms are vital gear because the careful contact and experience facilitates prognosis customers needs and ease off pressure and tiredness by way of remedy treatments however they also use technical device, continually advanced with the aid of the Splendor enterprise. They have to display the know-how of the way electric devices paintings, which will avoid endangering clients’ health and safety while applying electric devices remedy.

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webpostingpro-blog · 7 years

Text

New Post has been published on Webpostingpro

New Post has been published on https://webpostingpro.com/guards-at-the-taj-review-bloody-tale-probes-the-price-of-beauty/

Guards at the Taj review – bloody tale probes the price of beauty

Joseph’s play follows the sample of Tom Stoppard’s

This is one of the many legends surrounding the Taj,

Strategies For Security Guards When Dealing With Angry People

Listening: while on the receiving stop of an angry individual,

Knowledge: Safety officials must attempt to empathize on every occasion feasible understanding Information of why the individual is upset.

Now not reacting: Most significantly, the officer have to in no way react to a person’

The Health Benefits of the Virgin Bloody Mary Drink

Why the Bloody Mary is Healthful

How to Growth the health blessings

How A Beauty Therapists Provide Important Role!

Amazon beauty products

In recent years, there have been a tremendous increase for Beauty Care Offerings and Make-up Offerings, even hair care professional and hairstylist are becoming increasingly in call for.inner beauty

A number of those Offerings require a cosmetology

Giving advice on skincare requires expertise of nutritional technology

0 notes