Lou & Tab + “hugging while lying down together” from this prompts list, requested by @shoshiwrites
When she has drunk the last of her tea—the stuff the British had left, so weak that all she had really tasted was the chlorinated water drawn from the lister bag—she slumps forward and rests her elbows on her thighs. The empty mug dangles from her fingers. At last she looks up and meets Tab’s eye, and, as if the sight of him is a reminder, her mouth twists.
He comes to kneel in front of her, and takes the mug gently from her hand and sets it down on the floor beside the cot.
“You should get some rest,” he says, and touches her knee. “Hmm?”
Louise makes no reply, staring at the floorboards, and he is about to repeat himself when she takes a deep breath and nods, and, with effort, straightens slightly.
He stands, and starts to turn away, but she catches his wrist. For a long moment she just looks at him, eyes dark and wide in the light of the gas lamp, and then she asks, “Can you stay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can stay.”
Her mouth tightens again, then abruptly she drops her hand and turns her head away, and lies down on the cot to face the wall.
Tab goes over to the table where the lamp sits, hissing softly; its light flares on the floral wallpaper before he turns it off. In the darkness, the autumn chill feels more pronounced; the ghosts she had spoke into being linger in the corners of the room. He unfolds a blanket and drapes it over Louise, pulling it up to cover her shoulders. Then he lies down beside her, his head pillowed on one arm behind her head, his knees tucked under her thighs, the toes of his boots just touching the heels of hers.
Curled up by the door, Trigger is dreaming, little whines punctuating snuffles and low snores; the cot creaks every now and then with their minute shifting of limbs; he can hear Louise breathing, too quickly for her to be asleep. Small sounds, magnified by darkness.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks her, his voice low in her ear.
“Nothing,” she murmurs back. “Everything. I don’t know.”
He takes a breath. “C’mon,” he whispers, “put your arms around me.”
She turns, and does as she’s told, pressing her face into his neck as her arms wrap around his shoulders. He has one arm around her waist and the other crooked for her to rest her head; his nose is buried in her hair, smelling dirt and old sweat.
Slowly he gives in to the waves of tiredness, that floating, rocking feeling, and he lies there halfway between sleep and waking and holds her, and in time with her breathing he strokes his thumb over the two small freckles behind her ear.
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For a star wars duo of your choice: You could come with me.
thank you friend! I picked Anakin and Padme because I was in an Anidala mood
~
"You could come with me," Anakin offered.
It was a futile gesture, he knew. She would refuse. But if there was the smallest chance she might agree...
"I have to get this conference plan finalized," Padme replied, predictably, but he fancied there was still a hint of regret in her voice. "Maybe next time."
~
send me more!
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@crumbledstatues asked ; “People are born great but yet need to grow into greatness” - from Alicent (hi mom! ❤️❤️❤️)
"not everyone has the chance to grow into it, nor does everyone wish to, i imagine." her gaze lingers upon the boys down in the courtyard below for a handful of seconds longer before it returns to her own daughter. she reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, hand coming to cup her cheek before allowing it to drop away again.
"it is hard when you have to watch your own children following whatever path they end up taking." there is much she might have changed for her children, had she been able to, had her voice been heeded over otto's. she knows the worry that comes with misliking the situation they find themselves in. "they are still young, they haven't had to bear the weight of any responsibilities as yet. they will grow when the time is right, when they must. try not to worry yourself too much when they are far from perfect. they don't need to be perfect."
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@hellsforged said: are you comfortable like this? i can switch arms.
comfort was an illusion most days; between the ache of the troups constant travel, the pounding in her skull between moments of respite after a kill, and the constant bruises and wounds of battle she was sporting, nel spent very little time feeling comfortable. compared to all of that, karlach's heated touch was scarcely bothersome, even if the metal of her armor was warm enough to make her sweat under the leathers covering her skin.
"sick of touching me already?" she teased lightly, glancing over at the taller woman with a knowing expression. "i'm fine for now. i'll let you know if it starts to get too hot."
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[ID: A mostly cool colored, digital three page comic of teen Gojo Satoru talking to young Tsumiki Fushiguro.
Page one: Gojo makes a sandwich for Tsumiki who's leaning on the kitchen island. Tsumiki says "Thanks for the snacks, dad" and Gojo responds "No problem, Tsumi."
In the next panel Gojo complains "Man... I wish Megumi didn't hate me so much. At least you call me dad..." Tsumiki comments "Megumi does that too, though?"
In the third panel, Gojo activates his Six Eyes like a flashlight and yells "When!? Where!? Do you have it on camera!?" to a surprised Tsumiki.
Page two: Tsumiki thinks about the various times Megumi has called Gojo 'dad,' including when Gojo gave them a bad hair cut, when the divine dogs bit Gojo, when Gojo made soup, and lastly when Megumi asked Tsumiki to ask Gojo to make snacks which is all represented in blue tinted drawings. In the last panel she has a devious smile and is labeled "8 yr old who just realized how funny she can be"
Page three: Tsumiki cheerfully says to a gleeful Gojo "In your dreams!" The second panel shows them zoomed out with a lighting strike going through Gojo's shattered heart while Tsumiki has a cat like smile. In the third panel with a light orange background, Tsumiki is smiling while Megumi comes up behind her and asks "Why's dad crying?" /End ID]
Before this happened
Edit: It has kindly been brought to my attention that Tsumi means sin in Japanese I'm so sorry Tsumiki I should've taken five seconds to check I just wanted matching nicknames with Gumi 😭
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the thing that i love so much about my relationship is that i feel absolutely zero pressure for us to be in eachother's pockets constantly. not just in the way that we like to have our own space sometimes but that i don't feel guilty for getting fixated on a project and not texting him or leaving him on read for a few hours. we have a system where i just say "i'm so sorry, i fell down the Art Hole again" and he says "that's ok, was the art hole fun, can i see what you did in there?". or if i have a feeling i'm going to draw until late at night i'll be like "pre warning, i might be in the art hole this evening" and when i'm done he's texted me goodnight anyway.
tldr: find someone who doesn't get mad at you for crawling into a hole and instead helps you out of the hole and asks what you saw down there
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Unsurprisingly, people are already being fucking weird about Mizu's gender.
Headcanons are all well and good, but maybe we shouldn't be so eager to apply modern Western gender politics and terms to a character whose identity is so tied to the time, place, and circumstances in which she exists.
Please remember that Mizu was forced to present as male for her own safety and agency. Please remember that allowing others to see her as a man and call her he/him is not a choice; it's protection; it's a means to an end. Until we see Mizu talk about her gender in further detail, that's all the context we have.
Don't project what you want to see onto her and then treat it as fact.
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@jegulus-microfic january 13, wet, 74 words
“No, James, don’t – I’m all wet,” Regulus protests as James wraps his arms tight around him, the rain in Regulus’ clothes immediately seeping into James’ dry ones.
“Don’t care,” James mumbles from where his face is pressed into the crook of Regulus’ neck. “Missed you.”
He doesn’t seem to be letting go any time soon, so Regulus relaxes into him, one hand clinging to James’ shoulder while the other scratches mindlessly through his hair.
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