#I did NOT edit this
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I thought tumblr would like this one
#minecraft#mineblr#my stuff#also for those wondering this is one of the splash texts#I did not edit this#it just came up when I booted up the game
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Please write the it guy Hob fic !!! I mean if you can! It would be iconic
Here's a rough little snippet I shouldn't have written but did anyway!
--
The first thing Hob notices are the cables. Cables everywhere, tangled into a haphazard knot under the desk, and hanging in a ball over the too-plush carpet.
"This is blasphemy," he says, sounding so forlorn that Dream's head tilts at him quizzically. Dream looks like Hob imagines a cat would after it's pushed a glass of water off the countertop: curious, but entirely confused about why he's being chastised.
"Have you discovered the problem?"
Hob pinches the bridge of his nose, has to look away before his stomach does that traitorous fluttering thing it tends to whenever Dream stands too close, or speaks, or does anything at all.
It's become a bit of a nightmare working with Dream, and the irony isn't lost on him. The problem isn't the work itself. Dream's calls are by far the easiest of the ones Hob takes. The problem is Dream. His earnestness. The fact that he's probably the most beautiful person Hob's ever seen. He's distracting, and he overpays, too. Which is nice and all, but Hob can't really stomach the idea of accepting half a month's rent because one of Dream's ridiculously long legs jostled the power cord on his monitor.
"The problem is you've got legs like a gazelle," Hob tells him, "and the state of your desk is enough to drive a man to tears."
Dream's mouth twitches. So close to a smile, Hob feels a spark of pride. "Legs like a gazelle?"
It's the same low rumble of a voice that had shocked Hob the first time he'd heard it, and Hob would blush at the way Dream's staring, dark eyebrows raised near to his hairline, if he weren't already so desensitized.
Hob clears his throat instead, and tucks a stray bit of hair behind his ear. "I'm coming back tomorrow. You're due for a lesson in cable management."
#answered#ofthedirewolves#dream x hob#dreamling#*mine: fic#i did not edit this#so don't judge too harshly#i just think the idea is cute
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okay which one of you
#THIS IS A REAL SCREENSHOT#I DID NOT EDIT THIS#super giant robot brothers#sgrb#super giant robot brothers spoilers#liveblogging#worf opens their big mouth#20
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Writing Prompt #114
"I... I see how you look at them. You're in love with them, aren't you?" Civilian says, barely holding back tears.
Hero looks at them, completely dumbfounded, "I- Civilian they are a criminal! I'm not staring at Villain because I like them, I'm looking at them because I'm trying to figure out the easiest way to arrest them!"
#a dead tea#I did NOT edit this#villain and hero#writing#writing prompts#story prompt#prompt#heroes and villains#hero and villain#villains and heroes#villain#hero x villain#hero x civilian#civilian x villain#civilian x hero#civilian#villain x civilian#I hate tagging#villian#hero#my prompt
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"Geralt?"
"Hm."
"Do you think we'll last?"
The question startles him, what feels like a thousand thoughts suddenly flying through his mind.
He doesn't understand. He doesn't. They've barely been together a year, and sure, sometimes things get too intense and too much and quite suffocating, but it's all worth it. It's so, so worth it, because as terrifying as this relationship can get, more than anything, it's liberating.
It's almost sickening being this in love, being this loved, and Geralt not used to sickness, but this is one he wouldn't trade for anything else.
Jaskier has done well in telling, and showing, Geralt that he feels the same.
So he doesn't understand what prompted this, he doesn't understand what he could have possibly done, what could have made Jaskier even begin to doubt for a moment that---
"Geralt," Jaskier says, sharper this time. Geralt turns his body around until he's face to face with his bard. Jaskier doesn't look upset, or angry, or even moderately unsettled. He just looks... curious.
"Should I be worried that it's taking you so long to answer a simple question?" The bard teases.
Geralt scoffs. "As if anything with you has ever been simple."
Jaskier laughs and Geralt realizes his statement was untrue.
Things with Jaskier are almost too simple, so much so that Geralt can't help constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. He isn't destructive about it, not anymore, but the anxiety lives on because things with Jaskier are simple in a way that simply doesn't feel real.
Geralt's life has always been so far from simple that it's genuinely laughable, because holy shit, who else does any of this happen to?
But Jaskier. Jaskier is so simple it's as jarring as it is leveling, and the only times things have ever been complicated between them was because Geralt made them that way.
Things with Jaskier are simple.
Jaskier loves him. He loves Jaskier.
They're in love. They do the things they do because they love each other, and it's so simple because there's never any doubt about how much they love each other.
Once Geralt accepted it, and embraced it, his mind finally quieted, and his body finally rested.
"I don't know," he says, honestly because he doesn't, because he could never think to lie to Jaskier again as he did back on that mountain. "But I can't remember a time when I didn't love you, and I think that means something."
Jaskier smiles at him, then. It's a small, private one, only reserved for Geralt, and that thought makes his heart leap.
His bard reaches out and brushes the pad of his thumb across Geralt's brows, down the side of his face, over his lips.
"I think so, too."
#some fluff because literally all of my most recent shit has been angst coded or straight up angst#so have this#why are so many of my ficlets of them in a bed#i did not edit this#sorry!@#geraskier#geralt of rivia#jaskier#the witcher#my writing
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Me when I cause one of the biggest physics scandals in recent history
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it’s still may thirty first shut up shut up shut up
Thank you so much @forlorn-crows for putting together Mushy May. This has been so much fun, and I would love to do it again. (maybe give me a minute before I do this again, this is the most I’ve written in a sprint like this since high school. actually I went and checked the “novel” I wrote senior year, everything I’ve written for this ended up being like 5k words more)
Pairing: Polyghouls but mostly Aether/Dew
Rating: Explicit
Words: 6555
Summary: Aether needs to take some time off from the Ghost Project. His mate does not take it well.
#mushy may#my writing#aether/dewdrop#aether ghoul#dewdrop ghoul#i cannot believe i got this done on time#oh my god i thought i had two whole free days to get this done and then my sisters and parents went surprise we're doing things#and you're coming with#anyways#i did not edit this#the band ghost#the band ghost fanfiction
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N7 Month 2023 Challenge Day 7: Varren
Note: I had this dream where Samara came across Teltin facility during one of her investigation. So this fic was born.
Under the cut.
Fic Title: For Every Wicked One, There Is Someone Well Meaning Out There
Somewhere in the outer edges of the Terminus Systems, 2173.
Samara’s gaze wanders from the unconscious child in her arms to the disasterous view from the shuttle’s window. The flames have swallowed the facility whole by now, burning down the planet’s fruitless forest. Like the rest of Pragia it is grey and plain and too overgrown with poisonous, infecteous plants to ever offer any hope of terraforming it to provide a sustainable environment. It is rare that Samara has to take such measures to destroy an entire place. Normally, Samara’s job is not to commit arson, really; it generally goes against the Justicar Code. But this whole facility was build with one purpose: to torment. Thus, by the Code, Samara was compelled to destroy it.
Though the child could awaken any second, and is likely to attack Samara, the Justicar holds herself calm. She is a danger, that is certain. In her nearly a millenia of life, centuries of which she spent travelling across the galaxy as a mercenary, Samara has never come across someone with such tremendous biotic poweress. Especially not across someone as young as this girl was. Not even Samara herself, a Justicar with finely honed powers, could claim she surpassed this little human’s strength. That they have abused her in such horrific ways, all just to test the limits of human biotic potential?
Samara has faced many horrors in her long life. But this.. this was beyond all measure. Horrifying. Repulsive, on every level. Despite her conditioning, Samara felt a tinge of nausea in her stomach. Who could do this to a child so young and innocent?
She has not felt this way since she first learned what horrors her daughter had committed after her escape from Thessia.
A part of Samara thinks that shall this child awaken, perhaps she should.. perhaps she should not do anything. If this young human feels compelled to kill Samara, how can she blame her? The Justicar has read the notes left in the facility before she burned the place down. ‘Subject Zero’ has been raised in this place since she was a baby, treated as nothing but an experiment meant to be tortured solely for the sake of scientific results. Conditioned to kill. She could not tell right from wrong.
She never had someone who taught her that.
If this child— Samara refuses to dub her ‘Subject Zero’ in her mind— choose to attack her.. She was not sure if she could, or should, defend herself.
Maybe Samara was more resigned than calm, after all.
—
Samara has been correct with her assumptions. As soon as the child found consciousness, she hit Samara with a biotic blast so hard it would have killed one of the scientists back at the facility. But Samara was well armored, and the child was weakened from her earlier massacre. With a loud thud, Samara’s back hit the wall, and the asari found herself shockingly accepting of whatever this child decided she would do with her.
Samara’s Code did not compel her to kill this child. Not because of her age, no. But because she was unaware of what she was doing. The girl was scowling, but Samara had seen the heart wrenching fear in her eyes the moment she had awakened. She could tell by her stance and the tense set of her jaw how terrified she was, how horribly abused she had been.
It was allowes to act in self defense, but not obligatory. The choice was up to Samara; rarely did the Code offer such freedom.
She could feel the biotic field tearing at her when she thought of Morinth.
No. Samara had to end this. She had to take out Morinth, or she would continue to leave behind astronomical body counts; some of which were young, innocent children, like this poor human was;
She couldn’t die.
And, just like that, Samara felt the biotic field tearing at her perish.
But it wasn’t because Samara had been fighting it.
No.
"Why did you kill the scientists? Why did you take me with you?"
Samara had expected this young girl’s voice to sound different. It did not sound angry, nor could Samara detect any obvious fear. Though Samara could tell she was scared, the girl didn’t make it seem obvious. Rather, her voice sounded awfully monotonous. Weathered. In a way she reminded Samara more of herself, a ruined, broken vessel; an accomulation of centuries of hardship. A girl that young was not supposed to evoke such an aura..
"I am Justicar Samara, a servant of an ancient asari order. By my Code, I was compelled to bring justice and kill your tormentors. I was also obliged to save you.", Samara explained, her tone full of compassion and serenity.
"What.. what Code?", the young girl asked, still wary of Samara. "And why are you blue?"
The blunt question, had the circumstances been any less tragic, would have made Samara’s lips quirk up in a smile ever so slightly. But she could not smile. Not now.
"I am blue because I am an asari." Samara explained patiently. She remembered that this human child likely never had seen someone of another species. "We are one of the many space faring species; among your own race, the humans."
"Asari….", The child repeated, quietly. "Your Code made you save me?", she asked in disbelief.
"Yes", Samara confirmed without hesitation. "That is what I do. My role is to bring justice upon this galaxy; to protect innocents like you, from people like those scientists at the facility."
"But why are you different?", she asked, still as if she was not believing Samara.
"You may find it difficult to believe, young one, but there are many more people like me", Samara stated. "I will not lie to you. The galaxy can be a cruel place. There will be more people out to harm you, people like those scientists. But for every individual as wicked as that, I can assure you, there is someone well meaning out there."
The young biotic did not seem to miss that Samara had been evading her question. "But why are you not like them?"
"I could not bring it over my heart to harm someone young and innocent like you. It is as simple as that."
Samara was not sure if the child understood, given the puzzled look on her face. How shocking, that a child had been raised under such brutal conditions that it could not comprehend how someone could not be cruel.
"You have not yet killed me", Samara noted, gently.
"….You haven’t tried to hurt me yet", the child replied, quietly.
“And so it shall remain. What is your name?"
"They call me Subject Zero." Her answer was clinical, lacking any sort of inflection.
"No. I will not call you Subject Zero, dear. Those days are over. You are not a subject."
"I don’t have a name."
"Then it is time we shall give you a proper name."
---
Samara could not say that the child had ceased to see any violence that day. It was only shortly after they have arrived at the next port, that pirates had attempted to steal the girl. Much to their dismay, she was in company of a Justicar. Between the possibly powerful biotic in the galaxy— which surprisingly was not Samara, and herself, a Justicar, the pirate band stood no chance.
Samara hoped that this young human would soon finally see another part of reality; the beauty of this galaxy. She had saved children before, but never had she come across one as deprived of the beautiful parts of life such as her.
It pained Samara to know that she had to leave this child soon.
---
"Jack", the young child spoke after a long period of silence, as they ate together in the safehouse.
"Pardon me?" Samara answered.
"My name", she explained between hungry bites. She ate as if this simple meal Samara had prepared had been the most delicious in the galaxy. "My name is Jack."
"Jack?", Samara asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. She hadn’t ever come across the name before, but then again, she rarely ventured outside asari space.
"It’s an old name. I saw it.. somewhere..", Jack replied, the image of the tattoo studio they’d passed on Omega flashung through her mind. "Jack’s Killer Ink."
She hoped she could visit Omega again, one day. Jack hoped she could get one of those tattoos, cover the marks on her skin.
---
"That’s what you want, kid? A tattoo?" The asari spoke with an amused smirk on her face. "And here I thought human girls your age wish for ponies, or those lego stones or whatever you call ‘em."
"What’s a pony?" Jack asked, innocently.
"Some kinda Earth creature- really cute and human kids love ‘em, I hear- ah, never mind. I’m just.. surprised ya wanna get inked, that’s all." Aethtya spoke. "Don’t really think it’s legal. I mean, you’re like— what, ten?"
"I don’t know. No one ever told me my age."
"Ah, crap. Know what. Think I can probably find someone who’ll get you a tattoo, whether you’re ten or not." The woman smiled. "Maybe we can get you a pony tattoo."
"I want a varren."
"A varren? Oh, right. You don’t strike to me as the pony type of girl, anyway. Way too fierce to be one. Alright, a varren tattoo, it’s gonna be."
#n7month#n7 day 2023#mass effect fanfiction#mass effect fic#fic#samara & jack#samara#jack#justicar samara#n7 fic challenge#varren#i did not edit this#no beta we die like men and women#thats my style#i really just write for fun#i hate coming up with fic titles#lmao
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why did my header text get bigger by itself
#i did not edit this#congress is that you??? are you enthusiastically supporting me???#peach rambles
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dimitri stoner arc????
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Haven.
The strain in his muscles couldn’t compare to the exhaustion in his mind. Hentzau wanted to silence his brain just for a moment. Anything to help him sleep and forget all the shit that had happened during the day. It had been one bad report after the other. A train derailing. A bomb in the ammunition factory – again. Two of their generals murdered by human anarchists. These things came with the territory of his job…but for once, he just wanted one day of peace.
He hadn’t said anything when he’d entered their home. He hadn’t looked to where she sat by the window. He just made his way down into the cellar. Down into the soothing darkness that enveloped him like a warm blanket on a freezing night. When he had purchased this home for them – for her – he’d asked only for an office down here, but she had convinced him to make a bedroom as well. He needed a haven from the insanity outside their home, and he made a mental note to remember to thank her again for insisting on it.
Making his way to the large alcove he’d had carved out for a bed, he kicked his boots off and forced his aching body to lie down. It was days like this one that made him want to take his lover and run and forget all of this. Forget the stress. Forget the fighting. Forget the gray uniform that he knew better than his own skin.
He didn’t know how to be anything other than a soldier. Not anymore.
Quiet footsteps echoed in the room as her bare feet padded softly against the stone steps. He kept his back to her as she slid into his bed.
“Hentzau?” she whispered quietly as if she might break him if she spoke any louder.
“Hmm?” He didn’t have the strength for words.
Her fingers moved delicately against the rough fabric of his uniform. He hadn’t bothered to take it off. He’d just have to put it back on when he woke up. She rubbed circles along his back and sides and nuzzled her face between his shoulder blades.
“What can I do?” she asked. Her voice muffled.
He didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t bring back all the lives that were lost today. She couldn’t repair their transports. She couldn’t make the other humans see the Goyl as anything more than monsters.
He shook his head even though he knew she wouldn’t see it in the darkness, but his silence spoke loud enough. He couldn’t answer her any more than he could answer his king earlier. He just felt so tired.
Her arm slid around his waist as she propped her chin on his shoulder.
“Do you want to be alone?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No.”
He felt her nod against his shoulder. Her warmth spread through him as her heart beat steadily against his spine. He listened to its steady rhythm and let it lull him to sleep.
#Hentzau x reader#Hentzau#Sometimes he needs to be the little spoon#Mirrorworld Series#Emily writes BS#This was a little depressing#I just want to give him all the love#I did not edit this
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