#f!trevelyan

[inanshalla]

commissioned @frecklef0x to draw my oc Joyeuse Trevelyan and Solas and it’s so damn cuteeeee omg I’m so grateful to have been able to commission

[softeasun]

[natsora]

Lady Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and her wife, Former Inquisitor Lexington Trevelyan

Art by @naeviss > She's running commissions now, check her out.

Their stories are collected in The Sword and The Scabbard

[herald-divine-hell]

Some screenshots of what Alexandra may look like at the end of my Dragon Age Inquisition fanfiction, if I ever get down to re-writing it again, lol. Note that technically both the scar and what is technically her "blinded eye" is supposed to be on the left side of her face, not the right, with the "blind eye" actually meaning to be set in a black sclera with a sort of shattered glass effect that bares the colors of the rifts.

[lastofthegrey]

Commish for [s_m.c.] of their Inquisitor.

I quite enjoyed designing a composite armor for this piece, as well as finding a happy media between my art style and the semi-abstract/fresco styles within the game. 🩷

[heyitscuteway]

✧˖°. Enchantress | Lady Felicia Trevelyan-Rutherford ˖°.✧

[huldine]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

this was NOT supposed to be as long as this turned out... 10k words of solas yearning, and comfort, and sex in a hot spring.

whoops.

~*~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~**~*~

"Solas, I really don't mind, you know."

Perhaps it is the use of his name, which she did not yet realize until she used it, that is so rare for her. Or, in a far more humiliating twist, perhaps he could hear the strange desperation that has overtaken her, the plucking of this frustrating string of tension that has hung between them for days. It is a dance, she thought, in silence– joining, and then retreating. Suddenly, though, she has grown tired of retreating. Or maybe she is simply more bold after being freed from the constant oppression of ice and frost that has clung to her, seemingly for months.

Whatever it is that has shifted between them, he turns, his thin brow–ginger, she now realizes–raised in question.

"If you so insist," he says, voice level and betraying nothing beyond the eternally calm veneer. 

It reminds her of the Orlesians, and their constant playing of the "Game," as it's called. Evelyn never did very well during those distant family visits, too brash in most ways and too quiet in the rare others, but always too something. With Solas, she doesn't feel as much like a stumbling nuisance, like a turnip in a radish garden, but somehow, she does feel as if she's just won something, right about now.

And not just because he is quietly shouldering off the patchwork sleeves of his robes, and untying the belt from around his waist, and flicking open the buttons of his tunic with expert, dexterous fingers.

Though when his fingers arrive at the ties at the jut of his hips, flipping beneath his long tunic, Evelyn realizes that she is staring, quite brazenly, and with her mouth ready to catch flies, or particularly low-flying griffons. His eyes watch her, as well, until she moves hers hurriedly away, and turns back to the water. 

The reflection of the night sky atop the water is fascinating, she convinces herself, and ignores the light, breathy chuckle from behind.

read the rest on ao3!

[camillekaze]

The look of love, the rush of blood (x)

Another one for @ladymdc‘s Noir/1930′s AU that fully has me in a chokehold cuz what an aesthetic for Cullen x mage Trevelyan.