#drabbles?

youve been doing well hiding your dog allergy from valko. youre only a little allergic, whats the harm in lying about it?

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Valko does remember you mentioning your bad allergies when you met a few months ago, remembering your nonstop sneezing fits when you guys started hanging out. he felt terrible not being able to really help, allergy season was at its worst after all :(

so when he notices you take allergy pills everyday with breakfast, he shrugs it off

that being said, he can no longer smell the tree pollen in the air and it seems you still take them daily.

*･゜ﾟ･* 》

So they did something the night of the last supper, in that moment how I wished that this was a happier story because our Targbros deserve happiness

Thanks for the update and take care Im going on 2 weeks vacations for easter sooo I will miss your updates even more because I wont be as busy, see you next time.

I tried to drop VERY strong hints in previous chapters that Aegon, uh, got down on his knees for Jace that night. 😳

I’ve been avoiding revealing what Aegon’s thoughts are, but I think it’s safe to say that the memory of the alcove has been in the forefront of his thoughts the entire war. 😅

I am moving very soon, so I won’t have a lot of time to just sit down and write, unfortunately. But I do have lots of time to brainstorm, entertain what ifs, and share headcanons!

This is an open invitation for people to keep leaving comments and Asks, so I can keep the creative juices flowing. 🥰

Based on my favorite BTS picture of Gabe: Lorne takes a call while Chevy's hanging around his office, winds up sitting on the edge of his desk, and the combo of that sight, Lorne's voice and him effortlessly fielding some executive on the phone makes Chevy feel the need to kiss the life out of Lorne once that phone is back on the hook

OK I literally just saw that photo the other day and had it saved with intentions to use it at some point. I genuinely had something written for almost the exact situation you’re looking for so I tweaked it a little and here you go!!!

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Lorne and Chevy sat together in Lorne’s office, laughing easily, the kind of effortless conversation they’ve come to know. The phone rings, the shrill noise cutting through the room. Lorne groaned, pushing himself up from the couch to answer the phone. He picked up the phone, turning around to lean back against his desk, facing Chevy.

“Lorne Michaels,” he said smoothly.

“Mr.Harrison!” Lorne greeted positively, the way he held free hand to his forehead made him look like he was anything but. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“Yes, sir,” Lorne agreed effortlessly, his voice even and measured. Lorne threw a glance over his shoulder to his desk before he took a seat on top of it. He crossed one leg over the other. A pause. “Oh, of course, sir. I understand completely.”

Chevy watched, mildly amused at first. Lorne pointedly gave him a dry look as the man on the phone presumably droned on and on. Lorne picked up the phone base and set it in his lap, looking ready to end the phone call. Lorne leaned his head back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, fingers drumming lightly on the phone casing.

“No, no, no, I know. I agree wholeheartedly,” he added, resting his elbow on the phone base. The words rolled off his tongue with such conviction that Chevy almost believed him.

In fact, Chevy had seen Lorne handle a hundred conversations like this before, but for some reason, this one had him utterly transfixed. Lorne turned his eyes to Chevy as he crossed the room. Chevy stopped in front of him, leaning against the desk.

“Honestly, sir, you may not know this, but I’ve been in the industry for a while now, and I have to say—it’s refreshing to hear from someone who really gets it. And I’m not just saying that to be polite,” he added, though Chevy could tell he was feeding the guy exactly what he wanted to hear. Chevy reached up to lightly cup Lorne’s cheek.

“Yes, of course. A pleasure speaking with you as well. I look forward to hearing from you,” Lorne insisted, not taking his eyes off of Chevy. “Really, thank you, Mr.Harrison. Have a great rest of your day. Yes, you as well. Bye now.”

Lorne set the phone in the cradle and put it back on his desk beside him with a soft thud. He turned his head toward Chevy with brows slightly raised, mouth parted just a little like he wanted to say something but forgot how.

“What?” Lorne asked.

untouchable, leon. what does that word mean to you?

"un-touch-able." i had sounded it out in my head again.

a lot of words seem to start with "un" and end with "able"

unable. unable to defeat? undefeatable, understandable, undescribable, un-

"no." i had stopped myself again. "you'll be sitting here for hours thinking of words that start with un- and end with -able." i seemed to think too much.

LITERALLY NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING OR HOW TUMBLR WORKS STILL BUT 

have a slice of my thoma brainrot cake

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE INAZUMA ARCHON QUEST

You know, I absolutely adore playing as a dwarf. I have a heartfelt connection to them. But aside from my personal preference, I find the character development to be wonderful. In Origins, when you play as a noble, my favorite part about the backstory in general is how warden develops. He/she starts as royalty, some wonderful person who very well may absolutely hate being rich. Hates the way they are looked at, but knows no other way. Someone who does their duty unquestioning and loyally. Who thinks of battle as something as simple as dusting the house. Perhaps they are even in a forbidden love with their second. These things: hiding relationships, knowing your death is tangible on any given day be it by darkspawn or relatives, never getting to be seen as a simply normal dwarf, are just a normal part of life. Until everything changes. And you’re thrown into this world that is ever so bright and scary. Something totally different. And you, young warden, are so practiced in the ways you have lived that people often mistake you for being callous. Monotone. Unfazed. They’re not wrong. At this point, it takes a lot to rattle you. But this is your life now. And you must learn.

I love thinking about the various situations Aeducan finds themselves in. Stumbling out of the deep roads barefoot into the wardens, who are visibly shocked, battering you with questions that should have been comforting, only to be so numb and hardened that the only thing you can muster is a very formal “it is good to see you again, Duncan.”

Then, meeting Alistair, watching the conversation with a mage and apparently something to do with these odd human religions and traditions with the most resting bitch face imaginable. As is your habit. You’ve grown accustomed to never showing emotion. Dwarves are accustomed to battle and honor and tradition, not emotion. And Alistair, thinking you’re offended or something and you simply replying with “You must be Alistair.” You didn’t mean to sound so scary, wow.

Then Duncan, briefing you on your joining tasks, and you, switching automatically into army general mode, asking the strategies and alternative solutions should problems arise. Duncan finds himself smiling internally. Your level head will surely balance Alistair’s emotional panic in the future.

On to Morrigan. These humans never cease to amaze you. She has nearly no clothing on. How can she survive a battle? None of this shows on your face of course. The never changing diplomatic hardened expression masks your internalized thoughts. It is at times a blessing, not allowing others to see your confusion and fear and curiousity as you learn this new world.

Battle at first is a bit distracting. You’re caught off guard by the fear and disgust the other recruits show. It’s as if they’ve never seen darkspawn...but wait. They haven’t. And you’re reminded again of your people (of whom will never speak of you again) who have faced these monsters for centuries. You find yourself wondering if these humans had experienced the hug of their mother. Harmless games with their fathers. Bonding with their siblings. You consider your own personal family life. You suppose in your own dwarven ways, your family had been very close. But you know if you were to ever try to explain that to these humans, that your version of bonding with your brothers had been training so harshly and brutally that you had sometimes had to spend days in the medicinal wing, they would think you a monster or a war machine. Perhaps...perhaps that’s what you are.

Then waking up in the hut. A pounding headache and intense body pain. You shift into automatic response. Is my duty completed? Are my men safe? What must be done to finish the assigned task. You walk outside to find Alistair. Who expresses some strange sort of gratitude, for what you don’t understand. You consider that humans take death very personally. Death is not something humans are ready and willing to face at any moment. How strange. You think your face must display some sort of confusion, because you swear you see Alistair give a small sad smile. Almost like he’s pitying you. The very look of it makes your stomach turn. Pity is for the weak.

Then there’s Leliana. The most odd creature you’ve found yourself encountering in this new strange land where the sky seems like it can swallow you. She speaks of some man in the sky. You presume a human. She has tried to explain it to you, but it makes no sense. Your body will one day return to the stone from which it came...but then you think further. Perhaps you won’t be returned to the stone. You’ve been exiled. There is no longer somewhere for you to go after you die. For the first time in your life, dying in battle doesn’t seem like a desirable choice.

Sten, oh Sten. Sten quickly becomes one of your most trusted companions. You and him understand each other. Sten is not blinded by emotion and vengeance. Sten exists. And you can appreciate that. Sten has a purpose. Long ago, you were a lot like Sten. Now, you have no idea of your purpose. This world confuses you. You take each day as it comes. Something you’re not used to and find quite annoying. You do not know what to expect. The one thing you can appreciate though, is duty. Duty you took upon yourself. You pride yourself in it really. For the first time, you are doing something that you chose to do. Something not assigned to you. Something you control. It is comforting, and when you look at the sky and grip your toes into the ground so it doesn’t swallow you, you think of this one piece of your culture that will always stay with you: your duty. Sten helps you realize this. And with Sten, you find yourself talking strategy. In some ways, Sten reminds you of Trian. In other ways, Gorim. You cherish Sten. He is a rock in this strange floating bright world.

Then comes Zevran. One of the first elves you’ve ever spoken to in depth actually. Among the first you’ve ever encountered. You find yourself considering him almost to be charming? The word sounds foul to you. He’s a piss poor rogue. Of this you know. At first you find him rather annoying? Almost angering? A piss poor rogue and an even poorer assassin, he turns his back on his duty immediately. You find his desire to avoid death deplorable. But for some reason, the idea of killing him (for the first time in your life mind you) strikes you as being morally wrong. Why? You weren’t sure. Perhaps it was your vacancy for tendencies of vengeance. You did not even seek to kill Bhelen after all. Bhelen had simply done what any dwarf would’ve, had they been smart enough. Bhelen’s act did not provoke hard feelings. You still loved him even. Your little brother had grown into an outstanding noble and you could not deny that. He had simply beaten you at a game. Once again, if you expressed this opinion to your human companions after they learned your story, they considered you to be insane. Apparently, vengeance is a common thing amongst humans. Humans, you feel, are incapable of accepting that which they do not enjoy. You find this odd. Relating back to Zevran, Zevran is not human. And though he acts nothing like the odd elves from the trees (the first trees you’d ever seen by the way), Zevran is refreshingly morally corrupt. The more you get to know him, the more he reminds you of your people. And this is comforting. He tells you of Antiva. Perhaps you even ask him if he will someday take you there. Maybe there would feel like home. It certainly sounds like the politics are the same. Zevran’s moral instability and cowardice are exactly what makes him so comforting. He makes you feel at home.

Sorry, I suppose those are just some ramblings/drabbles that go through my head when I play as a dwarf. Let me know if you’d like me to write any other background stories. I’ve played them all. The way my brain can spin their personalities and character development affects the way I build each character. I’d love to share more if anyone liked this!