#neria & cheese

[nirikeehan]

OC Kiss Week - Day 2: Food

For day two of @ockissweek, I come bearing 100 words of my favorite cheese thieving team, Thalia and Neria. They are both Dragon Age OCs, and Neria belongs to the lovely @inquisimer. Thank you for letting me borrow your girl for shenanigans. ❤️

---

Their latest cheese heist a success, Neria and Thalia escaped to Skyhold’s battlements. Neria hoisted herself up onto the parapet, crossing her lithe legs. Thalia sat beside her, ramrod straight. 

Neria bit into a cheese wheel. “This spicy gouda is to die for!” 

“You think they’ll come looking?” Thalia anxiously nibbled some gorgonzola. 

Neria’s dark braid caught the sunlight as she leaned over and kissed Thalia’s temple. “I think that fat cat cheese merchant got what was coming to him.” 

Thalia snorted. “I wish I had your confidence.” 

“It comes from many years of learning not to give a shit.”

[sundove88]

The Cheesebird of Egypt (The Prince of Egypt Parody Casting)

In this animated retelling of the Book of Exodus, Egyptian Princess Golden Cheese Cookie (Pilar Uribe), upon discovering her roots as a Golden Cheesian slave, embarks on a quest to free her people from bondage. When her plea is denied by her brother Pharaohman (Donald Faison), the new pharaoh, a series of horrific plagues strike Egypt. Golden Cheese finally leads the Cheesebirds to freedom by parting the Red Sea and drowning the Egyptian army. Arceus then gives Golden Cheese the Ten Commandments, a list of rules for her people to live by.

Golden Cheese Cookie as Moses (Cookie Run)

Pharaohman as Ramses II (Megaman 4)

Yami Yugi as Himself/Ramses II’s Second Brother (Yu-Gi-Oh)

Hollyberry Cookie as Miriam (Cookie Run)

Parmesan Cookie as Tzipporah (Cookie Run OC)

Dark Cacao Cookie as Aaron (Cookie Run)

Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie as Themselves/Moses’ Other Siblings (Cookie Run)

Ganondorf as Pharaoh Seti I (The Legend of Zelda)

Eset as Tuya (Smite)

Ebony as Herself/Moses’ Ally (Magia Record)

Burnt Cheese Cookie, Fettuccine Cookie, Mozzarella Cookie, and Smoked Cheese Cookie as Themselves/Moses’ Friends (Cookie Run)

Yamask as Ramses’ Son/Amun (Pokemon)

Affogato Cookie and Matcha Cookie as Hotep and Huy (Cookie Run)

Cheesebirds as The Jews (Cookie Run)

High Priest Cheesenbird as Jethro (Cookie Run)

Sugar Swan as Yocheved (Cookie Run)

Skull Man as Nefertarti (Megaman 4)

Notraiders as The Egyptian Guards (Star Twinkle PreCure)

Waddle Doo as Neria (Kirby)

Arceus as God (Pokemon)

Blueberry Cookie, Bumbleberry Cookie, and Cranberry Cookie as Ephora, Ajolidoforah, and Jethrodiadah (Cookie Run)

Giratina as The Angel of Death (Pokemon)

Here’s your hint for the next casting (It’s Disney):

💎🌊🏰

[musicaldaydreams]

OCtober Day 15: Nourishment

Let’s take a quick look at everyone’s favourite foods!

Amaranth: Fond of meat, but really just likes anything savoury with lots of herbs.

Argent: Weirdly fond of bacon and eggs with toast, despite eating breakfast only rarely.

Art: Loves fast food, especially Kalosian fries and festival food like funnel cakes.

Asa: Mangoes! Fruity flavours in general, as well as fish.

Atif: Stew! Loves a good hearty stew with carrots and potatoes.

Cinth: Dewdrop Berries.

Cortica: Partial to cakes, especially heavy cakes with jam. Lemon and strawberry are her favourite kinds (of Earth, anyway.)

Gail: Pasta and salads, especially leafy green salads.

Harrisen: Likes bland foods, mostly, watermelon and celery and such, but also likes ginger. He’ll add ginger to things he doesn’t like to make them more palatable.

Jamil: Macaroni and cheese with bacon.

Keely: Candy! They have an enormous sweet tooth and will eat pretty much anything sweet. Weirdly also loves watermelon and Perfect Berries. (No, people probably aren’t supposed to eat Perfect Berries; no, that’s never stopped Keely.)

Lena: Loves fruit and also chocolate, and especially loves them together.

Mina: Big fan of seafood, but also likes escargot.

Minerva: Grilled haddock and potatoes seasoned with herbs. Really loves fish in general.

Miri: Sunshine! But also conecakes, as a treat.

Neria:  Honey, and anything flavoured with it. Her very favourite is Cheri Berry pie with honey.

Romi: Loves Berries in general, but especially grilled Oran Berry.

Shadow: Hot dogs!

Terry: Likes doughnuts! Especially coffee cake-flavoured ones.

Tria: Blue raspberry Freezies!

[inquisimer]

for this dadwc friday, Neria + 🍵Someone forgot a key ingredient (and the key ingredient is CHEESE)

hehehe back on my cheese nonsense, to Josephine's detriment and Neria's amusement🥰🥰

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

The spread was impressive. Clearly, the ambassador had gone all out.

A cloth, embroidered in honor of the Ferelden throne and the house of Mac Tir, covered the simple, sturdy table they’d brought in for the purpose. Matching napkins were artfully folded and placed atop delicate china, nicer than anything Neria had ever eaten off of in Skyhold. Tiny, ornate forks and spoons accompanied each setting, as did a teacup, rimmed and decorated with gold filigree that gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Pitchers of cream and sugar bowls with dainty tongs had been placed strategically to ensure each participant had one within reach.

Then there was the food. A dozen platters, each with a different delicacy, had been carefully placed to fill out the tabletop. For the savory options, there were eggs done in the Anders’ style, encased in sausage, breaded, and fried; delicate cucumber sandwiches with the crusts removed; quiches loaded with ham and scallions. On the sweeter side there were lemon and rosemary scones; little cardamom cakes, dusted with cinnamon sugar; trifles layered with mint whipped cream and strawberries.

In the middle, a tart and cake sat side by side, clearly the centerpiece of the offerings. The crust on the former was flaky and golden brown, ornately braided around the edge of a creamy filling swirled with leeks and dill. The latter sat atop a glass stand, sporting several layers of sponge, immaculate frosting roses, and topped with chocolate swirls and gold leaf.

An impressive spread, as she’d said. There was just one problem.

“Where’s the cheese, Josephine?” Neria faced the ambassador, watching as her expression fell from expectantly confident to a subtle, concerned panic.

“The…cheese, Inquisitor?”

“The cheese,” she repeated. “Surely you don’t intend for us to host the Queen of Ferelden without offering her any cheese?”

“I—“ Josephine whipped back toward the table; Neria could practically see her train of thought.

Skyhold was in a grey area when it came to sovereignty. Neither Orlais nor Ferelden had a concrete claim over the fortress, and therefore oversight of the Inquisition fell on no one—but no one was particularly satisfied with that either. The ambassador had been playing favors to both nations, struggling to keep enough heat from their backs until they’d successfully dealt with Corypheus. Toward that goal, she’d invited the queen to see Skyhold for herself: to see that the training there was, in fact, against demons and ancient magisters, and not some ploy to stage Orlesian forces on Ferelden borders.

But she forgot the cheese.

It was a cruel prank, perhaps, but it’d been a rough couple of weeks and Neria desperately needed the laugh. She kept her face in carefully arranged neutrality as Josephine cycled through stages of widened eyes and ashen skin.

“I—oh, I didn’t think—oh—“ One hand flew to her updo and she took several steps toward the  hallway before seeming to remember that she should justify her departure. “Excuse me Inquisitor, Ser Warden, I must remedy this at once! I’ll consult with Leliana, I’m sure she’ll know something or—or someone—oh no—“

Neria held in her giggles until the ambassador was out of earshot, then dissolved in on herself. Truly it was Josephine’s fault, for not realizing that anything Neria said about politics was sure to be worth less than garbage.

“You know, I realize I wasn’t meant to be king for long at all, but never once in that time did Eamon bring up the necessity of cheese at a banquet.” Alistair didn’t move from where he’d propped himself against the wall, but he did raise a curious eyebrow in her direction.

“You don’t agree that the queen would be insulted by it’s absence?”

“The queen? No I don’t think she would,” he said dryly. “Perhaps if I had the throne it would be a greater consideration.”

“Well your opinion matters just as much to Josephine; more to me, because I actually value it.”

Alistair snorted. “So do you think she’ll be able to find cheese in the next few hours, or will we be watching her explain the absence of this nonexistent formality from a safe distance?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of cheese.” Neria waved a careless hand toward the window. “Some of the younger recruits saved a handful of goats; they’ve been harvesting milk for months now.”

“Ah good. I’ll save my excuses for not attending for another time, then.”

The sunlight glinted off Neria’s smile. “As if I would be that cruel.”

[exalted-dawn]

Kirkwall Kraft Singles Cheese

Featuring @inquisimer ‘s OC Neria Surana Lavellan

[syrupwit]

happy friday to you!! for DADWC, how about some Cullen/Surana or Cullen/Amell + "Oh dreamer, I swear I’ll regret it for the rest of my days"?

Hello and happy friday, thank you so much! This fill became something that could fairly be subtitled "Surana Turns To Blood Magic," which I didn't intend, but that's the way it goes sometimes.

Under the cut, please find ~1100 words of f!Surana/Cullen for @dadrunkwriting.

-

On the road one night from the Brecilian Forest to Redcliffe, in the tent she shares only with herself, Neria goes walking in dreams.

This magic is still new to her. She’s wary, afraid. The place where she took blood sears like a fresh burn, and her heart hammers as if she’s back in the tower, caught out of bed after hours.

But demons don’t materialize to leap on her; corruption doesn’t burst from the ground to engulf her. No classmates appear to sneer, nor Templars to smite her. She can walk the strange paths of the Fade without much difference, except that the paths are more numerous, longer, winding without end… and their navigation is easy.

Where will she go?

Her companions’ dreams are close by and largely uninteresting. The dog dreams of rats. The Qunari dreams of the dog—running with it, fighting beside it, giving it scraps of meat—and each simple scene is saturated with loneliness. Alistair dreams of some childhood heartbreak, the scene in its dream-recurrence attended by an animate, opinionated wheel of cheese. 

Leliana dreams of a former lover with her lovely face covered by a death-mask. Zevran Arainai dreams the same, but the dream is half memory. Morrigan dreams of life as a bear, exhaling steamy breaths as fur grows and disappears on her skin, her hands flexing into paws and back again. 

Morrigan’s dream, Neria might like to enter, but Morrigan would find her and kick her out. There would be conversations, judgment, and perhaps even advice. She doesn’t want any of that. So she points her feet in another direction, and lets the path lead her along.

-

Someone is dreaming of her.

It’s one of the Templars from the tower. Neria recognizes him, though she’s not sure of his name. He’d been shy, hadn’t he? He’d been at her Harrowing. She has a vague impression of fair hair, blushing and maybe stuttering. Not someone who bothered her often, or who she paid much attention to.

Apparently he paid attention to her.

“Um, hello,” says Neria, and immediately feels stupid. The Templar keeps staring at her dream-self with a moony expression.

He doesn’t react to her, although she circles around so that she’s in his line of sight and standing across from him. The double between them is absorbed in mimicking spell drills. 

She inspects the double critically. It’s detailed, and prettier than her, if not in a way that's wholly pleasing to her. 

Is that really how her hair used to look? She’s glad she had to cut it off after all those bereskarn guts got in it. And the way the double hunches her shoulders as she casts, cringing, as if anticipating an order to make herself smaller or stop altogether… This is a spirit play-acting at the Templar’s concept of her, so she shouldn’t take it to heart. Oh, but her ears!

“My ears don’t look like that,” she complains. “Do they?”

“I can’t remember,” says the Templar, sounding far away, and Neria’s heart lurches. But he doesn’t start shouting about maleficarum or even look at her.

She flees anyway.

-

Neria tries again after the first time. She tries again and again. Dream walks get easier. If there’s a toll besides blood, she hasn’t paid it yet. She meets plenty of demons, but they don’t follow her back, and the darkspawn nightmares leave her more exhausted in the morning than dream-walking does.

She is exhausted. Morrigan notices, but says nothing. The others probably think she’s just fragile, a pet bird experiencing a troubled adjustment to life outside its gilded cage, which is what they thought anyway. Probably.

Neria leaves their dreams alone, but sometimes she feels—smug, that she could intrude and steal their secrets or worse, and they’d never know. Not that she would. But she could.

She tests the boundaries. The barmaid at an inn doesn’t remember her in the morning, even though they have a conversation in her dream. A traveling merchant gives her a discount after she suggests it in his dream, and she’s so flustered that she turns it down. 

The same merchant speaks to her like she’s a servant, though, so she goes back to his dream again the following night and thinks about doing something. She doesn't, but she could.

Though she might be an elf, and a mage, and now cursed with the Taint, she has power over people like this who look down on her, who might try to hurt or scare or humiliate her. When she chooses not to use that power, it's a mercy.

Jowan had studied a little, but ultimately turned to blood magic out of desperation. Neria is doing this because she wants to, and it feels good. No wonder the Chantry and the Circles forbid it. 

-

That Templar is dreaming of her again. Neria has visited him a few times now, often when she grows homesick for the tower. He’s still there, and his memories are clear and vibrant.

It’s a shy dream. His always are. That disappoints her, honestly; even the Qunari’s dreams have a racier side, and it makes her face heat to remember the glimpses she’s caught of Leliana’s dreams. But this Templar is alone in the Harrowing Chamber with dream-Neria. She’s lying unconscious on the floor, a flatteringly posed elven ragdoll… and everyone’s clothes are still on, and he’s just looking sadly at her.

She tells him, “If you’re really this boring, I’m glad you never talked to me.”

“But I did talk to you.” His voice comes quiet and unhurried, trusting, and his gaze stays fixed on her double. “I remember every time I talked to you.”

“That’s”—uncomfortable, more unsettling than the idea that a Templar might be having sex dreams about her—“sweet.”

A darker note enters his voice, and he shifts his weight, leaning harder on his sword. “It’s wrong.”

“Why?” Neria knows why, of course, but she finds herself curious about his specific reasoning. Is it because he’s a true believer? Because she’s an elf? Because he resents pleasure and thinks mages are wanton, and channels his jealousy over her imagined indulgences into hate? Because his childhood mabari got possessed and he’s never forgiven mages in the aggregate? She wants to know. 

He says, “It gives you power over me. If you know how I feel, you’ll manipulate me into letting my guard down, and then you’ll hurt someone.”

She laughs a little at his self-seriousness. So he is a true believer! “You think I’m that dangerous?”

The Templar turns and looks at her—the real Neria, not her prettier, passed-out double. Although she’s come to bother him a few times now, she’s never found him interesting to look at. This eye contact, unfocused as it is, is making her rethink that.

He confesses, “No.”

-

(and then neria proceeds to prove him wrong in the future by engaging in additional and more egregious blood magery D:D)

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

HI OKAY ONE MORE BELOVED🥰🥰 perhaps for Tal & Neria (if you'd indulge me🥺): ❛ because i like you. because you’re my friend. ❜?

Thank you to @inquisimer, @contreparry, and @dadrunkwriting for the prompts! Combining two today :3 'Because I like you. Because you're my friend.' and 'you brought me food?' Enjoy a silly little drabble about Talenna, Neria, and Cheese XD Rated:G

Cheesy | By Exalted_Dawn

Perhaps the steady lurch of a horse’s gait would never be something Talenna got used to. In fact, if it meant not having to stay in the saddle for a minute more, Talenna didn’t care if she never became accustomed to the feeling. 

“Creators, please tell me that we are almost to Jader,” she called ahead, not bothering to keep the irritation from her tone. She was far too tired for platitudes. Whatever gratitude she’d held for being out on the road again was now long diminished by the persistent ache in the base of her spine. 

Neria snickered, looking far too amused for Talenna’s liking. “HA! I could but I’d be lying, lethal’lan. By my guess, we’re still a handful of hours out from where we’ll be making camp, and then we have about two hours more of riding tomorrow until Jader. Why? Is your ass feeling it yet?” 

“Aye well some of us don’t have calluses for arse cheeks,” she huffed, more bark than bite. How anyone could do this for days on end without going completely numb in the bones was beyond her understanding. 

But Fenedhis, four more hours? The both of them had run out of their food stores earlier this morning and the hunger had only served to sharpen Talenna’s foul mood. 

“I’ll forgive you for that comment only because you agreed to keep me company on this trip, and only because you look so miserable.” Neria’s great loping hart pulled up alongside her own steed, startling the horse into a lurching side step when its heavy rack of antlers swung too close. Talenna yanked hastily on the reins, but new to riding as she was, overcorrected and jammed her leg between both flanks. 

“Pala ma’ masa,” she sputtered with a hiss.

Neria watched with a not-so-subtle interest, her lips twitching with the effort of holding back laughter. “I thought you said you were used to hard travel.”

“On foot,” Talenna clarified, flexing her toes to help work feeling back into her muscles. “I only learned to ride about two months ago. And this is the first time I’ve gone without taking regular breaks. You’ll have to excuse me, your Holiness, for the faults of my mortality.”

“Ooooohhhhh, low blow, Talenna,” Neria said with a shake of her head. “Low blow.” 

Talenna snorted, the sound swelling into a half-stifled giggle, and together they laughed. For the first time in days, Talenna felt some of her weariness slip away. It was a small comfort, the simple joy of good company, but even so, it was a welcome reprieve. 

“Here,” Neria started, a wide grin still on her face as she rifled through her bag. She pulled out a swath of cheesecloth– a parcel roughly the size of a small notebook– and passed it to Talenna. “You must be pretty hungry. I saved something for you to snack on just in case we didn’t reach the camp today, but I guess there’s no harm in having it now.”

“You packed food for me?” She was skeptical of whether that was really true, but Talenna wasn’t about to turn away a meal when her stomach was on the verge of rebellion. Why Neria hadn’t mentioned the food sooner, Talenna couldn’t say, but if-

She paused. “...Neria?”

“Hm?”

“Why is there only cheese in this sandwich?” 

Neria shrugged, her mouth stubbornly shut and her eyes fixed on the horizon.

“There’s a bite out of it,” Talenna continued, her suspicions quickly falling into place.

“Oh? Perhaps Fen’harel stole a bite,” she responded, too casually.

Talenna had to fight off another wave of laughter as she noted the cracks in Neria’s facade– the stiffness in her shoulders, her tightened grip on the reins, the way her jaw tensed. Oh Creators, this was too good. “Neria, is this your sandwich? Did you pack a sandwich solely made of cheese?” she asked, choking on the words as she bit down a breathless chuckle. 

It was now Neria’s turn to scowl, her peridot eyes sharpening to slits as she stared daggers at Talenna as she held the ‘sandwich’ aloft. “Oy, if you don’t want it, I’ll happily have it back. That’s my breakfast you’re waving around, you know.” 

“Oh?” Talenna hummed. “Then my apologies, I gladly accept your saddlebag cheese. Whatever did I do to earn such a gracious gift?”

Talenna nearly fell from her saddle as Neria shoved her hard in the arm, muttering a slew of curses that would make any respectful hahren blush. “Because against all common logic, I like you,” she snorted. “Because you’re my friend. Or at least I thought you were.”

It was a good thing that Talenna’s muscles were already sore, because it made it that much harder to notice the burn in her gut as it clenched with restrained laughter. The poor sandwich was all but crushed now, but still she held it close, like a treasure. “Ir abelas, falon, I didn’t realize that you were so…”

“Cheesy?” Neria finished.

“Cheesy.” Talenna agreed, and with a smile and a shrug, she took a bite.

[starsandskies]

Tagged by @captainsaku ♥ ¡Gracias, bella!

3 ships: Hahaha, only three? I can’t reduce my thirst to just three ships! Totally unfair. Let’s say...

Fenris/Ailsa

Solas/Aenye

Iorveth/Yriel

Well, and also Geralt/Yen, Lor’themar/Thalyssra, Zevran/Neria, Regis/OC/Dettlaff... ddjfh STOP IT!

Last song: Son of Elune - World of Wacraft Original Sountrack.

Last film: Rebecca (2020)

Currently reading: The Last Wish again. Looking for some inspiration, lol.

Currently watching: Los Favoritos de Midas on Netflix. 

Currently consuming: Gluten/lactose-free tasteless snacks because I’m hungry and it’s one of the few things I can eat right now.

Currently craving: REAL FOOD. CHEESE. It’s been a month since I was forced by the doctor (HAHA) to start a lactose-free diet and I WANT CHEESE. SMOKED CHEESE (San Simón) FROM GALICIA SAHDJKFHJF PLEASE BODY TOLERATE LACTOSE AGAIN.

Tagging: @briarfox13, @slothssassin, @spicevalleys, @outranks, @minilev, @teamhawkeye, @sneaky-apostate, @amistrio, @gharashambles, @ma-serannas-vhenan, @inkprintedfox, @alyssalenko, @charlatron, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @liaorban, @refinedstorage, @theknifegame, @shallow-gravy, @fluttyseed, @chyrstis, @scarlettkat86, @veinereastath and anyone who wants to do this! Consider yourself tagged!

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [46]

(734): I looked into her soul, didn't I?

(517): You eye-fucked her soul.

-

253):Any who, I expect to be showered with roses apon my arrival

(360):How about beer and nachos?

(253):A fine substitute!

-

“You know that thing that Mahanon does sometimes, where he looks at a person and its like literal layers of skin come flying off as he flays them alive and leaves them babbling incoherently about every single sordid detail of everything they’ve ever done that’s been even the slightest bit askance off of correct?”

“That’s incredibly detailed,” Max says,”Color me intrigued. What about his default state of existence?”

“I think he’s taught Malika. I don’t know how. I don’t know when. I don’t know what dark bargain she struck and how she paid it, but I think he taught Malika,” Herah says. “Which I’m calling out as bullshit because if there’s anyone he should’ve taught it should’ve been me because I spend more time with him than Malika does. Our jobs operate together more often, too. And if there’s anyone who needs that kind of soul withering thousand yard stare it’s me not her.”

“Isn’t Malika supposed to be the heiress for a less than legal empire?”

“Yeah, but she’s Malika, she’s going to have that shit under wraps without looking like a CGI horror movie effect. She doesn’t need that on her day to day. She’s not even inherited anything yet. She’s not even twenty one. There’s nothing she needs that for. Nothing.” Herah scowls. “How the fuck did she get him to teach her to do that?”

“He likes Malika,” Maxwell points out.

“He likes me. He drove me to the Val Royeaux airport on a Monday. I’m probably right up under Evelyn on his short list of best friends. He once flew out to meet me in Ferelden because I asked him to. If I’m not his second best friend in this entire damned planet I don’t know who the fuck is.”

“Alright, but have you factored in the part where he also delights in bringing torment upon Edric? And how much giving Malika the unholy power of the gaze would send Edric into a panic spiral that would drag him down. Because as much as he likes you, I’m pretty sure that if you combine the fact that he’s fond of Malika and the fact that teaching her any kind of non-standard life skill would give Edric a heart murmur of some kind that’s probably going to tip the scales heavily.”

“Shit. He likes bothering Kaaras though.”

“Yes, but if he taught you how to use the gaze and you used it on Kaaras your poor brother might slip into a coma. Mahanon likes your brother enough not to want him to enter a vegetative state out of self preservation.”

“Kaaras is tougher than he looks.”

“Your more terrifying than you realize.”

“I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that. I’m nice. I’m a nice former mercenary and sometimes hitman. I’m pleasant, even. There’s a reason why I’m on our diplomatic team instead of our intel division.”

“Yes, and that’s because you’ve cheated your way in. We all know who you really report to. Leilana just thinks this is more entertaining and better for Josephine’s mental health.” Maxwell hums, bouncing his leg up and down as he thinks. “You know how you could get even?”

“How?”

“You know Ellana can just look at you and you can feel every single defensive reaction building up inside of you out of some sort of primordial gut feeling that tells you that something terrible is about to happen? To you, to someone you care about, or maybe just some sort of natural disaster happening around you or in the vicinity of something important to you? Like. She just looks at you and the instinct to run, hide, disappear, stand your ground, brace for impact, and every other survival tactic kicks in at once and you just end up having a mental break out of the conflicting desires? She just looks at you and all of the anxiety, dread, fear, and denial in the world crashes down on your psyche dealing a million points of mental damage?”

“That was so detailed I got goosebumps. You should give writing lessons.”

“Get her to teach you that.”

“Genius, Trevelyan. Absolutely fucking genius.”

-

“You are disasters,” Leliana declares as she watches Zevran loop nacho cheese around a long stemmed rose. “Don’t eat it.”

“Don’t worry, no pesticides,” Zevran says. Leliana snatches it out of his hand throws it in the garbage. Zevran pouts at her. She grabs his lip and pulls. Zevran kicks out to trip her. Leliana lets it happen but enters a controlled roll, letting to of his lip to snag her arm around his neck and bring him down with her. Zevran, being Zevran, has planned for this and uses the momentum to tuck and roll so that he rolls over her, arm around her waist.

Leliana’s known this man for years at this point. So she puts in some extra momentum by twisting her shoulders to toss him off and bring herself up on one knee, putting her arm around him to hold him in an exaggerated dip.

“Are you certain that the two of you aren’t the disasters?” Neria asks, observing this from the table as she continues to eat the nachos. She’s dumped a truly horrific amount of pickled jalapeños onto the nachos while Leliana and Zevran were busy.

“Those are mine,” Zevran whines, kissing the underside of Leliana’s jaw before springing up to try and scrape jalapeños and pickled jalapeño juice off of as much of the nachos as he can before it sets in.

“The roses are yours upon request,” Neria replies. “The nachos were forfeit the second your ass left that chair. I don’t even know why I bought these. I’m the one who’s just come back from a three year long stint in the fucking Anderfels.”

“Because you missed wining and dining me so much,” Zevran says.

“There’s no wine here,” Leliana points out. “And you’re the one crashing my reunion with Neria.”

“You both are crashing my reunion with Alistair.”

“Who is also not here.”

Neria smirks as she eats an entire jalapeño. Leliana’s stomach cringes just looking at it. Zevran takes a long pull of water as Neria takes sadistic pleasure in watching them sweat over her horrific iron gut.

“Guess who’s crashing Alistair’s reunion with me?”

Zevran looks at Leliana. Leliana narrows her eyes at Neria. She’s known Neria longer than she’s known Zevran and the woman remains a mystery, impervious to every and all attempts at being known. Except for those made by Alistair. And her dog.

“It can’t be Morrigan,” Leliana says. Morrigan boarded a plane for the Korcari Wilds with Keiran two days ago. Leliana drove them to the airport. Leliana’s the one who booked their damned tickets. Morrigan had been excited for that trip for weeks.

Neria just smiles, reaches down under the table and pulls out a Gray Warden Reserves bottle that hits the table with a loud, solid thump.

“Now if only Sten were here,” Zevran says, beaming. “Not Wynne, she’d finish that entire bottle by herself.”

“Don’t worry, I told her to bring her own,” Neria replies. “Cheers.”

[dismalzelenka]

OC Profiles

Tagged by @a-basket-full-of-whimsy :)

B A S I C S

full name: Neria Surana, no middle name

gender: Female

sexuality: is it cute and consenting? then probably.

pronouns: She/Her

O T H E R S

family: Her mother Talia, her younger twin siblings Felin and Fern, and her grandmother, Keeper Olenna

birthplace: her clan's camp outside of Gwaren

job: research assistant to Alchemist Enchanter Ariban Dentry in the Ferelden Circle of Magi

phobias: being trapped underground

guilty pleasures: fancy Orlesian cheeses, especially the kind you melt and dip pieces of crunchy bread into? She loves that shit.

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: chaotic good probs

sins - pride

virtues - courage

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: extrovert

organized/disorganized: disorganized

close minded/open-minded: open-minded

calm/anxious: restless

disagreeable/agreeable: agreeable

cautious/reckless: reckless

patient/impatient: impatient

outspoken/reserved: outspoken

leader/follower: leader

empathetic/unemphatic: emphatic

optimistic/pessimistic: realist

traditional/modern: fuck tradition :)

hard-working/lazy: hard working

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Neria/Leliana

ot3: Neria/Leliana/Alistair

brotp: Neria/Lucien

notp: Neria/Cullen. Creepy shemlen. She has no idea what Solona sees in the guy. 😂

[witchdoodle]

random dalish headcanons

halla are not raised for slaughter like goats or sheep, but when they die of illness or age or accident, every part of their body is used, to honour their life. usually a funeral is performed first. things like halla leather and halla horns are very expensive because of this; it’s rare the dalish will sell either to non-dalish, but the high price those goods fetch when sold to shems is a pretty good source of income if they get really desperate.

halla milk is definitely a staple of their diet though. halla milk isn’t as sweet as cow or goat milk but it is HUGELY superiour in terms of fat and protein content and makes really tart, tasty cheeses. you milk a halla for the same reason you milk a cow, it’s good for them.

all dalish can understand halla, who do not talk but make themselves understood to elves. it’s not just reading their body language like you would a mabari or a cat, but neither is it verbal words nor telepathic thought. the process is impossible to explain to shems. “you just /know/ what they mean,” lavellan says to cullen after trying to explain it to him for like an hour.

dalish spirits are strong as fuck, but their wines are typically shit, and mostly used ceremonially. that varies by clan, location, year, and luck, though. sometimes you forage some good shit.

lavellan was BLOWN AWAY by the ABUNDANCE of readily available sugar in haven and skyhold. sugar would have been an expensive luxury to his clan. that and the idea that shem are used to food just being like… delivered to them is like ????????? to him. most shem have never even butchered a chicken in their lives????????

like city elves, dalish marriages (they dont call it marriage, but lbr it’s marriage) are mostly arranged. dalish clans that we’ve seen are mostly small, and after a while everyone in it would be related to everyone else in some way, and i hc that they’re you know, intelligent enough to recognise incest = bad. there’s no stigma against a love match, it’s just kinda rare bc most of the people in your clan who you spend 99.99% of your time with are like, your first cousin. so chances are once you’re an adult your keeper eventually arranges a match, and it’s not like YOU MUST MARRY THIS PERSON OR BE CAST OUT FOREVER it’s like hey i found this girl from another clan who i think would be perfect for you, you should spend some time together and see if you’re into it. 

for them, it’s about tracking bloodlines for the purpose of knowing who everyone’s parents are; “pedigree” is a non-issue, unlike human nobility. you’re not matchmaking for pedigree kids, you’re matchmaking to create healthy, long-lasting, loving relationships that produce happy, healthy, supported children. 

family lines are tracked through the mother. they have no word for “bastard”

the attitude about homosexuality varies wildly both by clan and individual, but nowhere is it forbidden, no one sees it as inherently wrong or sinful, it would be refusing to reproduce that would be the problem.  at WORST, the attitude would be that it’s a selfish individual choice.

like the qunari, the dalish see transgender individuals as just being the gender they say they are, because surely they’d know best, right? nonbinary individuals are not unknown to them, and elvish has always had gender-neutral singular pronouns, and gender-neutral forms of gendered words, like lethallin (masculine), lethallan (feminine), lethallen (gender-neutral).

trans and nonbinary individuals are widely viewed as special and important. shem don’t understand but fuck ‘em.

kicking out mage children to die in the woods is stupid. if i HAVE to acknowledge it as canon because apparently it is now, i hc that was that an extreme minority view. one or two specific clans’ stupid decision is NOT a common, widespread practice. if a clan already has a lot of mages and is worried about templars, they make contact with another clan to harbour the mage child until a more permanent placement can be found. elves do not fear magic like humans do. magic is a precious commodity, and a USEFUL and RARE skill. it is a gift to them, not a curse.

dalish religious ceremonies involve a lot of song and dance, especially call-and-response type of songs. a lot of their song uses sounds that aren’t explicitly words, necessarily, but which are loaded with meaning anyway; this is a result of them substituting what they’ve lost of elvish.

they don’t really have the space to be hauling books around. they have an oral tradition, and most dalish are functionally illiterate in terms of the common tongue. they don’t really need to read. that said, some choose specifically to learn, and keepers/firsts usually make the effort to learn, since they’re usually the ones preserving and studying ancient elven artifacts which does include some books and scrolls.

their history being mostly oral, they also use song as a teaching tool. it’s much easier to teach a bunch of six-year-olds history lessons if it’s presented as catchy songs.

dalish dancing is way more expressive and interpretive than ballroom dancing. it’s meant to tell a story, not follow a set of rules, and how good you are at it is determined not by how well you follow predetermined steps but how good you are at getting your point across and how creative you are. your dance should make your audience *feel* something.

it’s also how the Youths flirt with each other, you gotta really practice ya moves for the next arlathvhen cuz what if neria from clan whatever thinks ur a scrub... ya gotta Bust A Move...

they craft elaborate costumes for their dances. everything on those costumes is symbolic in some way, meant to express something.

generally speaking storytelling is SUPER important to their culture. much of their values are taught by fables. elvish is an inherently metaphorical language, this has always been the case.

all dalish are taught to track and hunt with bow and arrow. obviously some are better at it than others, but everyone learns the basics just in case. everyone learns to provide for themselves just as everyone learns to defend themselves. children, men, women, elderly, everyone learns.

dalish courting involves a LOT of gift-giving on both sides. usually one party initiates it with a gift, and if the other party is interested, they return with a gift, and so on and so forth, the purpose being to show mutual commitment to providing for each other. it’s not regulated by gender roles.

the vallaslin ritual involves taking just enough lyrium and felandaris to trip balls and go into the woods and have a spiritual experience. used to be elves would take lyrium and meditate and receive a message from their chosen god, and that’s how you picked your patron, but the gods aren’t listening anymore, so you just kind of have to have your own epiphany about life and culture and yourself and stuff. it’s meant to purify your mind and clear any lingering fears or doubts away. then you purify your body and the keeper mixes your blood, their blood, and the keeper’s magic into an ink they embed under your skin.

vallaslin is applied when you are ready, not at a certain age. some get it as young as fourteen or fifteen, others have to wait until well into their twenties. it’s about maturity and being ready for adulthood. 

nobody has ever failed the ritual. that is, sometimes people can’t do it on the first or second etc attempt, but nobody has ever PERMANENTLY failed to complete it. a keeper who senses that a young adult is sensitive and might not do well at it is likely to encourage them to get a small design. it’s a keeper’s job to see their whole clan safely through the ritual. if someone fails, it’s as much the keeper’s failure as theirs.

everyone in the clan has a “job,” but if you’re not up to speed or where you should be, the keeper intervenes, finds out why, and fixes it – whether that’s through counseling, or assigning extra training, or figuring the individual just isn’t suited to the task and finding them something else that brings them pride to do instead.

they bathe a LOT, cleanliness is super important to them. shem stereotype them as being stinky wood savages but nah, once or twice daily bathing is widespread practise, and they’re super careful about keeping their water sources clean. 

nomadic life is hard as shit. most clans lose a couple members every year from age, illness, accident, starvation, or shem interference. some years are harder than others. babies and the elderly are especially at risk.

there’s a dalish saying of “two keepers, three opinions.” the arlathvhen can get… heated… with debate, but nobody takes being argued with personally, because if you can’t defend your position then it’s a bad position. debate is a bonding activity. it’s the keeper’s job, also, to make sure everyone’s opinion is heard.

you will pry shoeless elves from my cold dead fucking hands

[aalyrion]

Ship ask for Hawke/Merrill and Amell/Cullen? 💙

Hawke/MerrillWho said “I love you” first: Merrill, same as in canon :) Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background: Probably Merrill, and it would be some random picture of Hawke that she finds super cute even though no one else shares that view.Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror: Also Merrill, she really likes mirrors.Who buys the other cheesy gifts: Hawke, buying cheesy/embarrassing gifts is her specialty. Who initiated the first kiss: Hawke.Who kisses the other awake in the morning: Also Hawke, since she usually wakes up way earlier than Merrill who stays up super late reading. Hawke loves waking Merrill up with kisses, since she is so warm and fluffy in mornings.Who starts tickle fights: Hawke, since she knows Merrill is super ticklish. Too bad Merrill's figured out Hawke's weak spots (her feet), so now Hawke cannot expect to win a tickle fight every time.Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower: Hawke, although they take a bath together not a shower.Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch: Both actually, although neither of them is good at cooking :)Who was nervous and shy on the first date: Mostly Merrill, but Hawke was nervous too, since it was the first time she's actually been in love with the person she was dating.Who kills/takes out the spiders: Hawke usually, kills spiders, while Merrill takes them out.Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk: drunk Hawke loves making Merrill feel embarrassed by loud love proclamations. Although drunk Merrill also proclaims her feelings for Hawke, albeit not loudly.Amell/CullenWho said “I love you” first: Cullen did, although Neria would disagree with that, to which he'd tell her that "I like you" and "I love you" are two different things. Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background: Neria would not like to be in pictures, so Cullen barely has any pictures of her. So she has a picture of him and their dogs as the background of her phone.Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror: Cullen does.Who buys the other cheesy gifts: Also Cullen, being cheese is his strong suit :)Who initiated the first kiss: Cullen, right after Neria told him she liked him.Who kisses the other awake in the morning: They are both early birds, so no one gets to wake the other one up :(Who starts tickle fights: Sometimes Cullen, sometimes Neria. It's not a fair fight though - Neria is not ticklish at all, so Cullen does not stand a chance.Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower: Neria, she likes showering and taking bath together because it feels peaceful.Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch: usually Cullen although sometimes Neria does too. Who was nervous and shy on the first date: definitely Cullen.Who kills/takes out the spiders: Neria. She does not like spiders so she prefers to get rid of them by herself.Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk: Cullen probably, although it has definitely happened to Neria multiple times. Thanks for the ask 💙

[inquisimer]

“given your history, i should have known better.” but Neria x Cheese

hndfsjkl I don't know what this is but *throws at you* HERE YA GO

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

It shouldn’t have been so hard to find sleep in Skyhold. Neria had spent the better part of her life encased in stone walls; there was nothing foreign about the whistle of wind against the fortress or the towering ceilings above her head.

But somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten how to sleep alone.

It started in Kirkwall, where she was originally relegated to the makeshift cot in the back of Anders’ clinic. They’d slept that way, limbs tangled together and sharing a blanket, until she’d scraped together enough funds for a place of her own. Even then, she often found herself sharing: if not with Anders, then with one of the escaped mages who needed a bit more direction before moving on.

With Lavellan, of course, no one slept alone. She’d gravitated toward Rosha pretty quickly and it wasn’t long before the two of them were sharing a bedroll (or an aravel, on their rotation) with Mahanon as well. The three of them slept in a jumble of arms and legs, too warm but comforted, supported, loved.

So though the ambassador had ordered her the finest Orlesian stock for a bed, Neria couldn’t rest. The mattress was soft, the linens softer, the blankets like baby’s breath against her skin. But it was all for naught, with only her own body to warm the space.

That was how she ended up in the kitchens. The cook was bound to notice, eventually, but who was she to question the Inquisitor. It was Neria’s damn fortress, according to Solas. She’d go where she pleased, when she pleased. And right now, that was the end of this table, with an assortment of cheeses spread before her on a cutting board.

She’d stacked cubes of cheddar on top of pepper jack, three or four stacks speared with little toothpicks, standing at attention like the finest of the Inquisition’s troops. In front of them, she’d placed a glob of goat cheese, carved in a roughly approximate humanoid shape, with a strip of salami wrapped about what would be its shoulders.

“You there! There’s a shield in your hand—block with it!” Her voice was already rough from sleep deprivation and she forced it lower in a poor imitation. She nudged the goat cheese commander forward, letting a wisp of mana animate the cheddar troops and making them quake with terror.

“Yes, Commander!” Higher this time, squeaking in just the right place to mock the changing vocal chords of their youngest recruits.

Maker, but she must really be losing it.

The lumpy head of her goat cheese commander crumbled under its own weight and toppled to the cutting board surface. She pinched it between two fingers and popped it in her mouth, only to freeze when she caught sight of a figure in the doorway.

“Couldn’t sleep?” The rumble of Cullen’s voice just confirmed how terrible her own imitation had been. He was dressed as casually as she’d ever seen, in just trousers and a plain white button-up with the sleeves cuffed to his elbows. There was a shadow of scruff across his jawline and the day’s hair gel had worn away, leaving his familiar curls loose about his forehead.

She flushed, with embarrassment and something she’d rather not look at too closely. The table jerked as she forced herself to her feet, sending her toothpick soldiers into a prone position. Cullen’s eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth as she tried to make it look like she hadn’t been childishly playing with her food in a bout of insomnia.

“Given your history I’m not surprised,” he said offhandedly. Neria frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Who do you think Irving groused to when his favorite snack went missing?” Cullen raised a smug eyebrow at her and her blush deepened; she could feel the heat all the way to the tips of her ears. “And who do you think Greagoir complained to about the complaining mages?”

“I knew Solona was lying about having free access, that sneak.” Neria popped one of the stacks into her mouth, catching the toothpick between her teeth as she pulled it out. Cullen’s eyes tracked the movement, lingering on her lips a second longer than was perhaps proper.

“Well, you have free reign here, no sneaking required. Though I might suggest going for it during normal waking hours?”

“Normal waking hours are a myth,” Neria pronounced grandly, hiding her insecurity behind the snark. “I’ll eat cheese whenever I damn well please.”

“Alright, ser poet.” Cullen chuckled, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. They gleamed in the light of the single candle she’d lit, the shadows dancing with concern and care. It was a look that burned her, made her want to run and hide from every emotion that had ever left her scarred.

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Neria?” he asked softly.

She stared down at the cutting board and didn’t answer. She pushed the remaining chunks of cheese around the wooden square, pretending to think but really just hoping he’d give up on this line of questioning.

No dice, unfortunately. A shadow fell over the table; he’d moved closer, close enough for her to identify the worry more readily in his expression. His brow furrowed and his hands jerked upward, hesitant, uncertain, but lightly wrapping around her arms anyway; they gripped more firmly, comforting, when she didn’t flinch away.

A breath escaped her lips in a gentle huff. It felt as though she were in a bubble, filled with the hazy, dream-like feeling that only existed in the hours that could be either late night or early morning. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, so she wouldn’t have to look at him with her confession.

“It’s so empty,” she whispered, sounding pathetic and broken and shameful. His hands slipped to her back as he pulled her firmly into his embrace. The feel of his arms around her, the beat of his heart against her chest, the warmth from his breath against her hair—something slotted into place in her chest, something she hadn’t quite realized was askew.

Neither of them spoke; tears slipped between her eyelashes and splattered against Cullen’s arm, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rocked her slightly, resting his chin atop her head and humming, low and so soft, she felt it more through her bones than she heard it in her ears.

They stayed like that until the earliest specks of light appeared on the horizon. The cook would be in soon, Neria knew, so she drew back reluctantly, immediately missing the warmth of his skin against her cheek.

The concern hadn’t faded from his face in the slightest. Their bubble was fading, but for now he seemed willing still to overlook the impropriety of the situation. He watched as she swept the remnants of her nighttime escapades into the rubbish bin and sent a cascade of water and soap over the cutting board before replacing it on its hook.

“You could sleep with me,” he blurted. Neria nearly choked; she was sleep deprived and stressed and she must have heard that wrong. Of all people in the Inquisition—

“Not like—not like that,” he hurried on, face as red as hers felt. His blush was endearing and she focused on that, rather than the embarrassingly hopeful skip her heart had taken.

“I just—if you need someone to help you sleep,” he said, one hand reaching up to clasp the back of her neck. The corner of the kitchen floor must have been very interesting, for all the attention he was suddenly giving it.

“I’d…like that,” Neria ventured. Cullen smiled, ever so slightly, then jumped as the faint crow of a rooster reached them from the yard below. He made his excuses and fled, presumably to don his armor before their council.

There were all kinds of questions and misgivings and preoccupations running through her head, but they muted by the fullness in her heart at being held by another living person again. Like a drug, there was little she wouldn’t do to have that on a regular basis.

And wasn’t that a dangerous place to be?

[inquisimer]

MER HELLO I think I would like to see 'experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn' for Neria and her Lavellan friends????

AHHHH ty for the Lavellan prompt Ro💜💜💜 I'm excited to explore more of Neria's dynamic with Mahanon and Rosha and this was perfect for that

wc: 1236

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

Out here in the woods, the ambient sounds of birds and foxes and wind whistling around her, Neria felt freer than she had in some time.

She also felt more keenly the faults of Circle training.

“Oof!” A set of feet collided with her shins and she sprawled across the forest floor, wincing as her elbow crashed against a root and bark scraped across her cheek. Neria heaved herself back upright, glaring at Mahanon.

“What did you miss?” he asked.

“My stance,” Neria grumbled. Fighting in the Dalish style involved not only being agile and light on your feet, but also stable enough on rough terrain to avoid knockbacks. It was a far cry from the utilitarian stance she’d learned in the Circle. “You only just showed me the method today—if you’d let me have some time to study it—“

“Fights won’t afford you that courtesy and neither will I.” And he came at her again.

This time she managed to hold her stance and bring her staff up to meet his assault, catching the hilt of one dagger and side-stepping to avoid the other. She twisted her wrist and forced him a few paces back. Pride surged in her chest, even knowing that had he used the same technique on her she’d be on the ground, whereas he didn’t even stumble.

Her mana coursed like second blood through her veins, begging her to call on the fade and drive her opponent back with a spell. She bit back the urge and reset her stance, waiting for him to close the distance she’d put between them. For a few heartbeats, he waited, as if holding back his instincts, then all his restraint vanished and he flew at her in a flurry of blades and resentment and disapproval.

She was immediately on the defensive. The callouses re-forming on her hands were familiar from her time in the Circle, but her movements were stiff and jerky. It’d been nearly a decade since she wielded a staff—it practically screamed apostate to Templars and their sympathizers; there was no faster way to get reported. Even in Kirkwall, though both Anders and Merrill walked freely with their staves, Neria knew better than to rely on Mari Hawke for support—they weren’t close enough for the Champion to see her as anything other than leverage to keep her friends safe and free.

So her staff-less casting was quite proficient, but the muscles that let her wield the physical device had languished and atrophied, and now she payed the price.

Mahanon backed her up to the tree line, pressing her against the trunk of a large oak. The darkness of the forest beyond swallowed her while he remained in sunlight, but their elven eyes didn’t differentiate, so there was no advantage to be had there.

A branch dangled, half broken by some unknown force and a half-cocked idea formed in the part of Neria’s brain that wasn’t focused on keeping her arms from becoming swiss cheese. Mahanon was relatively relentless in his assault, but there was a moment where his blades went low and back, as though he planned to slice up through her leathers and that was her chance.

She jumped and pulled her knees to her chest. Her core screamed in protest, but adrenaline rushed through her and she ignored it. She lifted her staff above her head and hooked it over the branch, catching it like a zip line. Thus suspended, she kicked out, catching Mahanon in the chest with her heels and sending him flying back into the center of the clearing. His breath flew from his lungs; the maneuver clearly caught him by surprise.

Triumph flared in her chest and across her face—until the telltale sound of cracking wood hit her ears and panic chased it away. She scrambled to shift her staff back to the unbroken section of the branch, only to find the way blocked by an arrow, casually stabbed into the tree.

“Nice try.” Rosha grinned from her perch higher up on the tree. Her bow dangled in one hand, the other brushing the fletchings of the arrow that thwarted Neria. She just barely had time to scowl at the other elf’s satisfied smirk before the branch broke under her weight and she fell in a heap to the ground.

“Come on,” she groaned.

Rosha dropped down with an easiness that Neria envied and offered a helping hand to her friend. The unformed bruises ached under her skin as she stood and her muscles complained even as she asked them only to support her weight. “I think I might be done.”

“What did you miss?” Mahanon’s unforgiving question cut across the clearing as Rosha brushed dirt and leaves from Neria’s leggings. With a sigh, Neria pushed back the loosened strands of her hair and matched his steely gaze.

“I didn’t account for the opponents I knew existed,” she recited. “Though in a real fight I would be able to do that with a spell—“

“Not if you’re Purged or—“

“Or Silenced, yes yes I know,” she snapped. “I hardly think you’re in a place to lecture me about Templar powers.”

“I am if you insist on being a brat about training that you clearly need!”

“I survived for years on my own without any of this! Clearly it’s not half as necessary as you think it is!”

“Enough!” Rosha pushed between them, shoving Neria back. She blinked, not remembering closing the distance and getting in Mahanon’s face. He still glared at her over Rosha’s red curls, but her look was even more severe and it held Neria in check.

“You two are giving me a headache,” she huffed, dropping her bow and crossing her arms. “And I never get headaches.”

“Lethallin—“

“Shut it, ‘hanon. I’m too annoyed to be swayed by even your clever tongue.” Neither elf moved, even as Rosha stepped from  between them, creating a triangle of the three rather than a confrontation. She held each of their gazes for a long moment, then sighed.

“You are both right, and both wrong, in equal measures. You know this, yes? We do this to practice, or to learn, to better ourselves either way. And for fun—remember what fun is? It’s not all about survival and training and life-ending scenarios. Sometimes it’s just good to get the blood and adrenaline pumping.”

Shame flooded Neria. She recognized the pattern and cadence of Rosha’s words—how often had she used similar ones, to quell arguments between Solona and Anders? As the heat that drove her to biting words settled, she felt nothing but regret and remorse.

Mahanon appeared to have a similar reaction. “You are right lethallin, of course,” he said, much softer and gentler than his harsh words only moments prior. He swiped some sweat from his forehead and traced his fingers down his braids.

“Ir abelas, Neria,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I have…other concerns on my mind that have unduly influenced the way I treated you today.”

Neria studied him for a moment, then stooped to retrieve her staff. “Apology accepted. And let me offer one of my own—I am defensive by default, though you are helping me. I apologize.”

He nodded, now eyeing her staff and how she’d readied her feet. In her peripheral, she saw a grin stretch across Rosha’s face.

“Shall we begin again?”

[inquisimer]

fic author self-rec

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to a couple of other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

I was tagged by the lovely @exalted-dawn-drabbles (thank you Ed you wonderful human🥰🥰). Forcing myself to post this, because even though I struggle with the self-love on the daily, I am also very consciously beating my brain with the self-love broom and this is good for that shit😅

Roses Into the Abyss

Dragon Age: Inquisition || Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford || WIP || G Rated (until I work up the courage to write smut🙈)

My main WIP, the Surana Lavellan AU, in which Neria Surana escapes Kinloch Hold pre-Blight and, after a bit of wandering and a lot of suffering, ends up as the First to Clan Lavellan. She’s sent to the Conclave, where her history with Cullen, as well as Anders and the Hero of Ferelden, play into how her Inquisition arc unfolds.

Apple Whiskey

Dragon Age: Inquisition || Female Lavellan & Alistair, Female Amell/Alistair || One Shot || G Rated

Set in the Surana Lavellan AU worldstate, sometime pre-Here Lies the Abyss. A one shot where Alistair helps Neria escape one of Josephine’s parties, thinks about his wife, and eats a lot of cheese. Inspired by a random prompt post that I sent to Ed, who immediately said “that has big Alistair energy”😂😂

Conditionally

Dragon Age: Inquisition || Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford || One Shot || G Rated

An exploration of what might happen if Clan Lavellan was significantly more anti-shemlen than the game implies. Some of Mihsa’s clan members come to visit Skyhold and she must face the consequences of falling in love with a human - and leaving unfinished business behind when she headed to the Conclave. ((written before I had properly developed OCs, so Mihsa is just kind of...there...lol))

Grace In Denial

Dragon Age II || Female Hawke/Anders || One Shot || G Rated

After an outing to the Wounded Coast, Hawke’s friends deliver her to her exasperated healer. Again, written before I had properly developed OCs, so Aisling is just chilling

Ended in Love

Dragon Age: Inquisition || Female Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford || One Shot || T Rated

Cullen asks a question about their future, but it brings up unintentional, unrealized trauma that Evelyn definitely hasn’t dealt with. TW for implied rape/non-con and forced sterilization, again with the default Trevelyan because I didn’t have properly developed OCs

and tagging forward to @roguelioness | @kirkwalls-dumbest | @effelants | @nirikeehan | if y’all want, no pressure of course!! ((but also I’m making grabby hands at y’all’s fics if you do🥰🥰🥰))

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [463]

“By the end of this I’m either going to be dead, my brother will be dead, or I’ll emerge with an entire new family,” Ellana says, pinning her phone to her ear as she pulls ingredients out of the refrigerator. “Alim? Terrifying. A beast. A complete and utter catastrophe in a body. I love him. He’s wonderful to inflict on others. Watching him and Neria go head to head? It’s like watching continents clash. This is what it would look like if you saw a killer whale fight a shark and yes I know killer whales are actually sharks.”

“I’m beginning to think you have a type,” Bull says. “Should I be jealous?”

“Just a little maybe. He’s queer, too. Did you know everyone this house is a flavor of queer? It thought I was the queer cousin. Maybe they put all of the queer cousins in one house with the stipulation of us eliminating each other in order to weed us out. Find the alpha queer cousin. Establish a hierarchy. Create a new breed of queer cousin.”

“I’m worried about you being cooped up in that house with only the most eccentric of your family to feed energy off of. You’re stuck in this feedback loop of chaotic neutral and I’m wondering if you’re going to come out of this at all,” Bull replies. She hears him pop the tab of a beer can and muffled voices and the rustle of cloth as he turns the phone onto his shoulder or something to say something.

“Did I call at a bad time?”

“Sort of. Stitches wasn’t chosen for that program he applied to so we’re trying to cheer him up.”

“No! He’s been working so hard for it! How did he not get chosen? He’s been working on getting good word and networking and putting in all that overtime. He took all those extra courses and did all that volunteer work on top of his clinical rotation. If I weren’t stuck in this house I’d go over to that…panel of whoever picked it out… and give them a piece of my mind!”

“And for that we’re grateful.”

“That I’d do it or that I’m stuck in this house and that I can’t?”

“Column A and Column B.”

“Hmph.”

“I’d put you on speaker,” Bull says, “But my phone’s battery is at about twenty and these dipshits forgot all their chargers simultaneously so they’re using up every fucking outlet in the place. I had to unplug the microwave and three lamps.”

“Well. When I win this house we’ll have all the outlets we’ll ever need for all of our friends who never remember to charge their phones,” Ellana says.

“I thought you just wanted to make everyone else wash out. Are you actually going for it now?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been changed living here. I’m used to the luxury of having so many rooms and all this space and like…being unable to see actual civilization without walking a quarter of a mile to the driveway gate. There’s an intercom system here. There’s also an old fashioned - you know, like. Bells? You’re in a room and you’re suddenly wanting for something and you push a button and it rings a bell somewhere in the house and someone comes to find you wherever you are? It’s got one of those. And laundry chutes. And like…piping from fireplaces that move hot air through the house. And hidden servant hallways and stuff. Think of the mystery. Think of the pranks. Think of the scares.”

“I am starting to think maybe I don’t want you tow in. I have a bad heart, babe.”

“Your heart wouldn’t be so bad off i you’d stop insisting pizza is a salad.”

“Tomato. Cheese. Spinach. Pineapple. Ham. All mixed together. It’s a salad.”

“In what universe is that a salad — you’re just trying to get me to talk until your phone runs out of battery aren’t you?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“That’s a good question. You tell me, Bull. Why would you purposefully steer the conversation towards your heart health, knowing I’d make a comment about pizza salads, knowing that we’d get into it and I’m not going to let this go ever?”

“That’s something you’ll have to find out when you eventually make it out of that house, I guess. So, anything else new?”

“No,” Ellana says. “All of us are still here and going strong. I can’t sense any cracks forming. But it should be soon.  Kallian operates on such a high level of stress that I’m surprised she hasn’t started hyperventilating into a paper bag yet. The other day I saw her lying down flat on the floor staring at the ceiling with this look in her eyes. I was going to ask her what was wrong but Lyna said it was probably best we left her alone. She seemed fine at dinner later.”

“You’re okay though, right? And Mahanon?”

“Mahanon’s delighted. He’s holed himself up in the attic and I think I see him maybe twice a day.”

“In a house that big I’m surprised you even see each other at all.”

“We’re all so like minded that we’re constantly running into each other. It’s astounding, really. It’s like we’re one hive mind now. I’d say we could finish each other’s sentences but we’r more likely to leave each other hanging on purpose. In fact at this very moment I’m making Darrian a smoothie. He didn’t ask me to. But he’s probably done with his afternoon jog and I thought it would be nice for him. It’s strange I didn’t now them so well before but I feel like we’re so much closer as a family. We need to do this with our friends.”

“We’d end up killing each other for sure. Pentaghast, Varric, Rutherford, and Hawke in one house together for an extended period of time? It’ll be a slaughterhouse.”

“But we’d know so much more about each other in the process, and that’s what it’s about really.”