#soe answers

[soetrys]

I've been a long time fan of your DCU work -- you've got some real bangers and I come back to read them several times a year. The "oh no, he's possessed" one is my absolute favorite and I gotta say, it's as memorable as they come. Really love the humor, the vibe, the pacing, everything! Hoping that you'll spare a little time for DCU in btwn your latest Beatles posts, but I'm just taking this chance to keyboard smash at you bc your stuff is awesome and so are you! 💕

oh wow this is one of the kindest messages i've ever received, thank you soso much!! writing that ghost fic was one of my absolute favorite projects ever, i totally let myself self-indulge with the oblivious pining haha i'm sooo happy it was memorable to you <3

i don't currently have any DCU WIPs but superbat is one of those pairings that are gonna stick with me forever, yk? so i definitely think i'll write them again one day :)) you're so awesome too, this ask just completely made my day

[official-l]

L I feel so immature for stimming in public, is there a solution for that?

You just have to continue doing it anyways. It doesn't really matter what anyone there thinks of it, it isn't heinous.

[madame-mongoose]

So if I'm level 1 and have Purify Level 1, 200 mana, and 200 or whatever the normal clairty is, and I'm in a Level 2 Winter aura form another mage, how much purification can I do per day, averaged out across a week, assuming I don't sleep?

you are doing some cocomelon shit to me

[navxry]

oh yeah guess what navi, I may or may not be adding a new cycle to the immorphy au soon

nothings set in stone for sure but just thought you’d like to know in case I do

(local toucan)

EXCUSE ME?

SAM.

EXPLAIN.

[ptwentz]

sometimes i think about when art had a lot of physical limitations and part of the artistic process was illustrating/representing things that can’t be done literally so you Must do it abstractly or conceptually. guys this used to be problem solving. idk man

[gludgenbell]

What is soe 👀

THANK YOU FOR ASKING

Have some fireworks I caught pictures of as a reward nonnie to envision how I feel

SOE or: Spirits of Eden is a duology I've been working on since freshman year of highschool 🙂‍↕️ as the first book is reaching its closing arc (spent the last year writing the 3rd draft), I've been hoping to draw the characters more and hopefully get people interested in it!

It's a high fantasy novel featuring gods, humans and magic. Our protaganist is Stasia, a half-god who sets out on a journey to protect humanity and quite literally save the world from the hands of other, more powerful, more human-hating Gods.

This story is my darling! If I could only talk about this and nothing else I would

[kaciebello]

IMAGINE the boys texting you but your mom answers instead, like- 😭

I've had that thought in my head and I don't know why, but I've just burst laughing out loud 😭

Your mom answers

Slytherin boys texts genre: humour warning: sexual a lil note : may your mother never answer Masterlist Social media masterlist ☀ Prompt list ☾

Taglist

@klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @deluluassapocalypse , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo , @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @mrvlfanman , @pink-heartz , @feistyfox47 , @nickspotatoesalad , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys , @wnbweasley , @shespeaksinsongs , @africancracker , @broadwaybaby123 , @stardustsymphony

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Misery Loves Company

A/N – Okay, so for anyone who loves Stand-up comedy as much as I do, I highly recommend you watch Daniel Sloss’ tour, Dark. That’s his first tour, and it was where he coined the term Wanker-Anchor, which is used in this story.

Warnings – None.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy @midoria-kinnie @meesachan @fusehoundshipper @velvettenoctus @crescent-z @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @rosiescannibalwife @skylerbutterfly @hamthepan @latersgaters-steven @kryptidkova @sleepyhead-number27 @cherry-4200 @harcourtholmesii @alastorandluciferspouse @holyspacething @kedelman24 @becsmarvel @vash-yuu

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

“Whoa,” Charlie said upon seeing you.

She had seen your Demonic form before, but it was a rarity and it usually meant that you weren’t doing well mentally.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sucking in air through her teeth, her voice pitching high, indicating that she already knew the answer but didn’t want to point out the obvious in case it upset you further.

“I’m fine,” You answered shortly.

“Really? Because you uh, well,” Charlie twisted her hands back and forth, “You uh, you look a little- I mean, hey, I think you’re beautiful inside and out but when you’re like this it usually means- It’s normally-”

“You’re fucked up,” Vaggie finished for her, getting straight to the point.

“I’m fine,” You insisted, using the words everyone used when they were decidedly not fine. “Where’s Angel Dust?”

“In his room,” Vaggie explained.

“What happened? He was doing so well.”

Charlie’s eyes welled up with tears and she threw her arms around you, sobbing out an explanation, “It was my fault. I asked him about his contract, and he told me not to worry, but I did worry, and then I wanted to make sure he’d be okay when me and Vaggie go to visit Heaven, but he said he didn’t need a babysitter, and then I got Husk involved and Husk told me not to fuck with things I don’t understand, and then Valentino came-”

“Wait, Valentino came here?!” You pulled Charlie off you so you could look her in the eyes.

“Well, not exactly, but he sent his crew here and told Angel they had to film and I said no, and-”

You left Charlie and ran to Angel’s room. Both Charlie and Vaggie followed you as you pelted through the corridors. No wonder Angel had relapsed. That piece of shit Valentino had used Angel’s contract against him. As part of the deal they had made, Angel had to do any work Valentino demanded of him, and that fucking scumbag had dared to invade the one place where Angel felt safe.

Knowing Charlie, she would have pointed out that Valentino couldn’t use her property and would have to wait for Angel at the studio, but that wouldn’t matter. Valentino would play by the rules; it wasn’t really about filming at the Hotel, it was all a matter of proving that Angel belonged to him and that there was no safe place he could hide away.

Besides, even if Valentino hadn’t gotten his way at the Hotel, he would take it out on Angel the next time he was in the studio. It was a lose-lose situation, something that Hell was always too eager to provide.

When you got to Angel’s room, you paused to compose yourself. It wouldn’t help if you sounded too desperate or concerned; Angel didn’t respond well to that. It would make him blame himself for making you worry, and then he would spiral further.

You knocked on the door, “Hey Angel, it’s us. Can we come in please?”

“Go away,” Angel’s heavy accent came through the door, marking him more as Anthony than Angel Dust, though you didn’t say anything about that; there were very few people who knew his real name, and he didn’t like to be reminded of it.

For better or worse, he was Angel Dust; that was who he needed to be to survive.

You glanced at Charlie and Vaggie, then tilted your head, indicating that they should leave. Charlie hesitated until Vaggie placed a hand on her shoulder, then after an affirming nod from you, she let Vaggie lead her away.

“Come on Angel,” You said when they were gone. “It’s just me. Let me in.”

“Piss off.”

You sighed, then sat outside the door, and began talking. You didn’t have a grand speech planned, only what was on your mind, and if Angel wasn’t going to let you in, then it became a matter of letting him know that he wasn’t alone and that you wouldn’t abandon him, though you would respect his space.

“I get it. Valentino fucked with you. He love-bombed you, and that didn’t fucking work because you’re stronger than he is and you’re not going to fall for his shitty manipulation tactics. Now, he’s sending his goons here. It’s all just another one of his games, Angel. Don’t let him win.”

There was no response. You stayed quiet for a minute then were struck with a thought; misery loves company.

“Hey, I also kind of feel like shit today, you know? I kept thinking about Hell and… a lot of things. I told Charlie’s dad how I died. That was fucked up.”

Again, there was no response, but you thought you heard Angel shuffle closer to the door. Until that evening, nobody had heard anything about your mortal life, and now you were talking about it for the second time.

“I was murdered for a snuff film. I still have nightmares about it.”

There was a bluntness to your tone. Although it hurt to state the memory aloud again, albeit in less detail, you decided not to put too much thought into it. If your death could help someone, well, there had to be some good in bringing it up.

You stared at the peeling red wallpaper across from you, just so you had something to focus on. “I’m terrified that one day, I’m gonna walk down the street and see the guys that killed me. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Call them out? They’re in Hell, that’s punishment enough, right? Will they find it funny to see me again? Find new ways to hurt me?”

I honestly don’t know what I want in this scenario. I don’t want them to die, ‘cos then they’ll be here, but if they live, they’ll do this to other people. Kidnap them, sell them to the highest bidder, film it for the black market. I dunno… I’ve been here for a year, and I keep thinking about that.”

The door opened and you fell back, looking up at Angel’s concerned face.

“That’s the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard.”

He lifted you up, setting you right with two arms, while the other two brushed you off.

“So… this is you?” He asked, taking in your rag-doll appearance.

You laughed and imitated his voice, your Demonic abilities kicking in to mimic him perfectly, “I can be anything you want, bay-by.”

“That’s the hottest you’ve ever sounded.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You waved him off blasély. “Just let me in, okay? I can help.”

“So, uh, with the voice, and the-” Angel gestured at your new look, moving his hands in a circular motion, “Can you uh- Be other people?”

“I don’t know,” You said slowly, looking at your hands, “Never tried.”

You concentrated for a moment, trying to transform back to your original self. Usually, it was effortless. Yet, as you stared at the stitches that bound you together, you found it difficult to do more than revert to your original skin colour. Seeing that beneath the stitches was somehow worse, so you stopped trying to change, accepting that for now, you were a ragdoll.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Fuck it. I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”

You caught sight of Angel’s precious pet pig. Scooping him up into your arms and cuddling him, you cooed in a baby voice, “Besides, you still love me, don’t you Fat Nuggets, yeeeees, precious baby.”

Sitting down on Angel’s bed, you looked up at your friend, deciding that it was better not to let the difficult conversation wait and fester.

“Soooo…” You scratched Fat Nuggets behind the ear, “Charlie told me that you relapsed. Wanna talk about it?”

Angel sighed and flopped back onto the bed so he was lying next to you, his legs planted on the floor.

He dragged two hands over his face, the other two lay despondently over his stomach.

“I- It was just such a shitty day, and Val sent those pricks here, not that they could fill any holes. Wrong kind of pricks, you know?” He half laughed, but it died when he realised the joke wasn’t funny in such a shitty situation.

Still, you smiled at him. When Angel was sad, he didn’t always need someone to sympathise with him. He needed to see that you weren’t going to change and start treating him differently. Sometimes that meant just listening, but other times it meant making the meanest jokes you could think of and laughing at how horrible everything was.

You were his Wanker-anchor, chaining him to reality by being a dick; Husk was the best at it, but seeing as he was nowhere to be found, Angel had you instead.

“Here,” Angel held up a small sealed bag, with his stash in it. So, he hadn’t relapsed after all. He’d just come very close.

“No thanks,” You joked, “I’m full from all the crack I had at breakfast.”

Angel got up and punched your arm, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one,” You took his stash, tucking it away in your pocket, then you stood up, leaving Fat Nuggets on the bed, and you offered Angel your hand. “Come on.”

“What-”

“You need a distraction. So, I challenge you, Angel Dust, teach me how to dance.”

“You’re fucking kiddin’, right?”

You shook your head. “You can dance, I can’t and I’m bored. So, come on, give me some lessons. It’ll be good to get moving.”

“When you fail, can I call you a retard?”

“Fuck no. You can’t say retard anymore, what the fuck is wrong with you. You can insult the shit outta me, but keep your terms acceptable, okay?”

Honestly, Angel had thought he was up to date on what insults and trash talk were deemed acceptable, but evidently, he was wrong.

“Alright, I’ll teach you to dance, but you gotta keep me updated on all the latest slang, and what’s changed up there,” He glanced up as if he could see Earth.

“I’ve been dead a year, bud. A lot can change in that time,” You said, thinking about all the ways you were probably outdated.

Angel grabbed his phone and turned up the tunes, “Sounds like a coward’s excuse to get outta teaching.”

And so it was that you and Angel started to dance. It was nothing like his work, or when he was forced to pimp himself out in clubs as a form of ‘networking.’ Instead, it was stupid, fun, and uncoordinated with you as his partner. Christ, he had never danced with someone so terrible. You let him lead, and together, the two of you laughed at each other’s expense and forgot all about the shitty things that had happened that day.

Up in his Radio Station, Alastor grinned sinisterly. He had heard you quite clearly as he went about his business in the Hotel. You were murdered? How delightful. Victims were so easy to manipulate. Furthermore, you were a ragdoll. Oh, how wonderfully he could exploit that power.

All it would take was an invitation of friendship, a desperate situation, and an offer of assistance. When Alastor had sent Husk away on an errand earlier, he hadn’t imagined it would turn out so wonderfully.

Now, there was a new piece on the chessboard, and Alastor was determined to capture you as his pawn.

Your soul would be his.

[ifredactedbureau]

Redacted: Ground Zero

IF inspired by Contro (2019), SCP Foundation, X-files

Demo: PROLOGUE

In the aftermath of World War II, a classified mission pulls you into the shadowy remnants of a conflict no one dares to acknowledge. Whispers of rogue Nazi scientists and reality-warping experiments have surfaced, threatening to plunge Europe—and perhaps the world—into chaos once more. As an MI5 field agent, you’re tasked with uncovering the truth buried beneath layers of secrecy, lies, and betrayal.

Every lead points toward Projekt Schwarzfeld and the catastrophic events of Threshold Zero, a forgotten chapter of the war that defies explanation. But some secrets were never meant to be unearthed. As you navigate a labyrinth of conspiracy, forbidden technology, and fractured reality, you’ll confront forces that question the limits of human understanding—and the cost of wielding power beyond comprehension.

Redacted: Ground Zero is a story of espionage, moral dilemmas, and the unraveling of truths hidden in the shadows of history. Will you rise to the challenge, or will the truth consume you?

• Master anomalies and adapt your skills. Harness strange, reality-defying abilities tied to anomalies—whether it’s manipulating probability, stepping through dimensions, or stabilizing reality itself. Unlock and refine these abilities as you uncover their true potential.. • Investigate a fractured world. Explore sites of catastrophic anomalies, from the eerie remnants of Threshold Zero in the Bavarian Alps to the clandestine Red Academy in Siberia. Encounter twisted phenomena, uncover hidden truths, and decide what to do with what you find. • Make critical, world-altering choices. Will you prioritize saving your team, containing anomalies, or acquiring forbidden knowledge for the Bureau? Each decision changes the relationships you build, the missions you undertake, and the fate of Baseline Reality. • Face enemies born of anomaly experimentation. Encounter Die Gebrochenen—the Fractured—twisted results of Nazi experiments with anomalies. Face other rogue forces, like defectors, rival nations, or anomaly-enhanced mercenaries seeking control of forbidden power. • Navigate a morally gray world. Decide where your loyalty lies—with the Bureau, with humanity, or with yourself. Will you uphold the fragile stability of reality or risk everything for greater power and knowledge? • Fall in love—or not. Form deep connections with up to four romantic options, from an idealistic scientist to a cynical spy. Your choices in love will offer new strengths—or dangerous distractions—in the face of looming threats.

Love Interests

Charlie Hayes (he/him or she/her) : The Bold Truth-Seeker “The truth isn’t pretty, it isn’t safe, and it sure as hell isn’t kind—but if I don’t drag it into the light, who will?” • A resourceful American journalist working undercover to investigate Nazi remnants and their experiments. • Bold, witty, and fiercely independent, Charlie thrives on uncovering the truth, often bending the rules to get the story. Their adventurous spirit hides a vulnerability stemming from personal losses during the war.

Theo Adler (he/him): The Haunted Genius “Knowledge doesn’t absolve you of guilt—it sharpens it, until every answer feels like a blade at your throat.” •A German defector and former scientist of Projekt Schwarzfeld. Now a reluctant informant for the Bureau. •Quiet, intelligent, and burdened by guilt, Theo is a man trying to atone for his past. His insights into anomalies are invaluable, but he struggles with his identity and the weight of his actions during the war

Eleanor “Ellie” Blackwood (she/her): The Steadfast Operative “You don’t look back in this line of work—not at the enemy, not at your mistakes, and definitely not at the people you couldn’t save.” • A British SOE operative and expert infiltrator now reassigned to the Bureau’s task force. • Calm, disciplined, and focused, Ellie is a consummate professional. Beneath her composed exterior lies a fierce loyalty to those she trusts and a fear of failure that drives her to overextend herself.

Damien Laurent (he/they): The Enigmatic Opportunist “Morality is a luxury for those who’ve never had to bargain with the devil—and I’ve shaken his hand more times than I care to count.” • A French art dealer with connections to the black market and underground resistance networks. • Charismatic, flirtatious, and morally ambiguous, Damien is a master of navigating high society and shady dealings. They keep their true intentions hidden behind charm and wit

[emma-ofnormandy]

Ooof- I haven’t written anything of significance in at least six months, probably more. So a big shout out to @mercurygray for hosting the 2025 @blind-dates-fest. It got me writing a bit and hopefully I can keep it going. Without further a do, an introduction to Felicity Collins- an OC for the SAS: Rogue Heroes fandom.

She hated the damp, she hated the cold, and it seemed like that was all London offered once the sun went down. At least in Cairo, even in the darkest depths of the night, the air was warm, and the breeze carried a hint of something wonderful rather than the lingering chill and the overwhelming scent of depression.

At least it was what she imagined depression would smell like if it had a scent.

Felicity didn’t remember this place being so miserable as a young girl. Then again, London hadn’t been thrust into a world war back then, and she hadn’t yet experienced the feel of regular sunshine. God she missed Cairo. She missed the sun, she missed the food. She missed the simplicity of it, of her existence before she’d thought she needed to do more. 

Why had she thought she needed to do more?

It was a question that grated every time she sat through another meeting, more often than not a useless one, filled with people who carried too many secrets and couldn’t tell full truths. 

The most recent one she had been forced to endure, the one that had her dragging her feet through the dark and damp hours long past her planned outbound train departure, had been another one of those… the useless kind. 

British SOE had spoken ad nauseam about things she had already been briefed about and drove home the fact, in no uncertain terms, that her bosses answered to them, damn what the Prime Minister believed. Anyone under the guise of the twenty committee, or any other SS moniker for that matter, were allowed to operate as they did simply at the benevolence of the Army.

As if the fact that they were a security office, outside the confines of military protocol and therefore free to pick and plant and decipher as they saw fit, was irrelevant. 

The disastrous meeting still grated. They had spoken to her as if she was a trained carrier pigeon sent only to deliver mail between the infighters, a person of little consequence with not a brain in her head, rather than someone sent with important operational information that she had translated and would be pertinent in the coming months of invasion.

“Ridiculous men,” she grumbled. Of the two sexes, they were far more enamored with their own importance and Felicity had very little patience for it.

On the days they left her feeling more like a punching bag than an intelligence asset, she had to remind herself that she was doing good work, important work. Work that she needed to do because others were not capable of doing it. Work that they had sought her out to complete.

I am important. 

The blinking lights of the Ritz shimmered as she turned the corner, and Felicity could feel the irritation and frustration begin to subside. Sight of the opulent hotel meant she wasn’t far from the rooms the agency kept down a shadowed side street and for a few blissful hours she’d be able to forget about the insanity and egos that came with war. And, if she couldn’t forget it, she’d at least be able to drown it in whatever cheap liquor the last inhabitants of the rooms had left.

A cacophony of shouting carried above the London street and her attention was drawn to the hotel’s main doors as a collection of soldiers tumbled through them.

While not the first men in uniform she’d seen tossed from the Ritz, it certainly was the most at any one time. In the dim light, it was hard to make out their insignia, but they were British by the sounds of it.

Speaking of ridiculous men…

Not wanting to get caught up in the chaos of what she could only assume was a drunk regiment on leave, Felicity made a move to cross to the other side of the street, her attention distracted as she searched for her keys. Unaware of the movement ahead of her, she ran headlong into someone, scattering the contents of her purse along the pavement.

She cursed under her breath, irritated with the bodies that continued to congregate, unaware or uncaring of the coming and goings of those around them. She didn’t bother to look up at the man she’d run into as she bent down to collect her things. 

“I am so sorry, I was just getting ready to cross and wasn’t watching-.”

“Felicity?”

Whatever excuse she had been ready with promptly left her as shock and unease coiled in her stomach at the sound of her name on the soldier’s lips.

There was only one she knew with that accent. Of all the regiments stationed in London, of all the men of her acquaintance that could have come out of the Ritz, it was the one from Cairo.

Felicity peered up at him as she finished collecting the last of her belongings, his eyes unreadable against the bright backdrop. Silence settled, both determining the next best move to make, months of things unsaid hanging in the air between them. 

Her gaze swooped over him as she rose. He appeared the same for the most part, though there was the unmistakable look of a man that has been to war about him. The hollows of his cheeks were a little deeper, the purpling around his eyes perhaps more pronounced than she remembered. He looked tired, physically and mentally, and something inside her ached.

He wasn’t the same man she’d left in Cairo.

“Pat,” she said, hitting him with the warmest smile she could muster, but before she could get a word out, he took hold of her upper arm and moved them away from the collecting group of men.

“What are you doing here?”

She arched a brow, put off by the tone in his voice. Not even a half hearted ‘nice to see you’ or a ‘surprise seeing you here’, just straight to the heart of it.

She resisted the urge to yank her arm from his grip.

He must have been able to sense her irritation because he released her arm and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket but made no attempt to reword his question. He simply stared at her, expecting her to explain.

Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, Felicity brushed a speck of invisible dirt from her coat. “I am working in Woodstock. I had to come into London for a meeting.”

“Woodstock?” Pat’s eyes narrowed as he seemed to flip through a reel of information, connecting the dots on some imaginary board in his mind.

Upon his realization, his lips formed a thin line as he bit out, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Calm down,” she snapped, gaze searching over his shoulder to the soldiers who didn’t seem to notice his outburst. “It is not as dramatic as you are assuming.” She took a breath, once again glancing about to ensure they had not attracted unwanted attention. “I am doing translation work.”

Mostly, but it did not seem wise to borrow more trouble so she left it at that. 

The idea that she wasn’t in the field, nor involved in something more clandestine, seemed to settle him a little. She knew where Pat’s mind had gone when he’d made the connection and knew what the imagined implications of it meant in regards to their relations in Cairo.  

His immediate concerns no longer a worry, the tension that had taken him receded by a fraction. “When?” he asked.

“When, what?”

“When did you,” he hesitated for a moment, “move back to England.”

“March.”

Rather than look right at him, Felicity watched the passing traffic. She’d known her flight date that last night they’d seen each other, and, if he had looked around her room with any scrutiny, he would have seen the bag. She hadn’t said a word, though, had acted as if it was just another night, and she knew if she looked at him, she would see the realization in his eyes, and possibly the hurt.

She didn’t think she could handle the hurt.

“A gentleman my father knew stopped by the museum when he was in Cairo from time to time,” she said, trying to justify… well, everything. “And I assisted in some translation work for him, off record of course.”

Their gazes finally did meet, and Pat looked at her skeptically. Nothing with MI-5 or any other intelligence agency was off record.

“When it looked like Africa was going to be secured,” she continued, refusing to give him the acknowledgment of what she also knew to be true, “he asked if I wanted to help in a more official capacity. It seems my father’s instance for certain academic skills has proven useful.”

“Last I knew, you said you had no interest in joining.”

Felicity didn’t miss the skepticism that laced his words.

“I never said I wasn’t interested in joining the cause,” she said defensively, “just that I wasn’t interested in saluting to a man who knew less than I did.” His lips quirked as she continued. “Luckily for me, no one in Blenheim requires salutes, at least from me, so it seems to be a good fit for the moment.”

Distantly, a car honked and a ways down another group of men loudly stumbled in their direction. More soldiers on leave she assumed. Their last hurrah before the inevitable.

“I looked for you,” he admitted, the words almost inaudible over the ruckus around them. “The next time I went into Cairo, I stopped by. Your roommate said you’d left the city, but didn’t know where you’d gone.”

She knew; Winnie had written to her almost immediately. God bless that woman for keeping secrets. Her roommate may have brought home every stray from the streets of Cairo, but she was as loyal as the day was long and would have never given up what Felicity told her, no matter what charms the American had tried.

Felicity had thought it best to make a clean break from him, given the situation he’d be going into and her unknown future with her move. It had seemed to be the simplest option, and the decision had paid off until this very moment.

She shuffled her feet, uncomfortable with the words left unsaid. She hadn’t expected him to care. A part of her didn’t want him to.

“I thought it was best that… well you know how…” she gestured vaguely, at a loss of any sort of acceptable excuse.

There wasn’t one, she knew. It’d been a shit thing to do, but there was no taking it back now.

Pat shifted away from her as a loud, mustached soldier hollered incoherently at the passing group of men, and for a moment Felicity thought that was the end of their conversation. It would have probably been for the best, given that she had just admitted running out on him purposely, but he didn’t make a move to leave, simply watched the commotion for a moment.

“I should thank you for those Italian lessons you insisted on,” he finally said, turning back to watch her. “They ended up coming in handy.”

Felicity blushed. While the Italian lessons had started for practical reasons, the longer they had carried them on, the more they had felt like a farce. He’d certainly been an eager student, but at their last lesson he’d only uttered a few phrases, and they weren’t ones a person used in securing important military assets and locations.

A jealous twinge churned in her stomach at the thought and she tried to tamp it down. She had no right to that emotion.

“I’m glad they came in handy,” she said flippantly, “had I known you were headed for Italy, I guess I would have insisted on less distractions.”

There was a flicker of a sly, almost mischievous smile on his lips before it disappeared into the darkness once more, and Felicity imagined his mind went to the same place hers had and her blush only deepened.

She cleared her throat, eyes jumping to the hotel, too embarrassed to look at him. “I guess I’ll have to admit, then, that I ended up keeping tabs on your advance through Italy.”

“Worried I’d go and get myself killed?” He drawled.

It had crossed her mind only dozens of times since she’d met him and only once she had left Cairo had she been able to set it to the back of her thoughts.

Until they’d been dumped into Italy, at least.

“I had tried not to keep tabs on SAS. Didn’t want to know that very thing, but after you took Bagnara, the Axis communications blew up and I was assigned.” Truthfully, she had felt a moment of pride for the men then, for him especially, as she translated the intercepted hysterics of their eminimes. She had been glad to see success in spite of the absolute insanity she knew they reveled in. “I’m glad you made it through.”

Her words softened the harsh lines in his face and for a moment she saw a glimpse of the man from the earlier days, from the before times when SAS was just finding its wings and the weight of what was to come wasn’t such a burden on his shoulders.

“Riley!” A large man called from the truck that idled just beyond.

Pat waved, but his gaze didn’t leave hers. Finally, he mumbled, “I’ve got to-”

“Of course,” she interrupted. “I should get going as well. Train out is bright and early.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else but when he just stood there, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, Felicity stepped in and kissed his cheek. “It was good to see you Pat.” 

She moved just far enough away to study his face as she gave his hand a squeeze before dropping it back to her side. SAS was not going to have an easy time moving forward, not that the past had been a walk in the park, but she knew that what was coming from France would be the worst yet. 

She hoped this wouldn’t be the last time she saw him, but she was not foolish enough to believe it. 

“If you find yourself in a writing mood, Ludlow Street. Apartment 5B. My aunt will make sure I get it.”

He nodded and the corners of his mouth lifted in a half there smile. “I imagine you’ll know where I am headed before I even know where I am so…” the words hung there in invitation, and she returned the gesture.

“Take care of yourself,” Felicity reached up and fixed a lock of dark hair that fell across his forehead. “And if you make it to Paris, snag me a good bottle of wine. Maybe we can share it someday.”

Without another word she stepped away and continued towards the far end of the block, not daring to look back and watch him load up and drive away.

[itsrlymine]

sorry for bothering, Mina, I just wanted to ask one thing that another creator of loa made me confused.

Is possible wake up with your desires? he told that isn't and the 3d will give you soe bridges to bring your desires. But if this is true, why a lot of people on tumblr said that they woke up with their desired life for example? This guy made me so upset cause I studying the law to revise my life. Sorry for the small vent, luv u girl!!!! <3

Who the hell is Mina?? Girl next. You know the answer to your question.

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2024 Day 3

Horror Movie Crossover

I love horror movies and I love Skwistok so I tried to tackle a very popular trope often seen in horror movies featuring, well, these guys.

I think it's pretty obvious movie which movie I'm referencing so I won't say it, haha.

Toki barely managed to close the door before Skwisgaar lunged at him. “Stops!” He laughed, though he didn’t really push him away.

“No ways…” Skwisgaar hummed, stealing kisses to Toki’s neck. “We ams finallies alone…” Slowly, he worked his way up to Toki’s jaw. “Dey was drivins me crazy, you knows?”

“Ja…” Toki half-assedly agreed, the attention too distracting. “Dey was…”

“Hm…” Skwisgaar licked the outline of Toki’s ear. “What you says we…” One of his hands suggestively squeezed Toki’s side.

“Buts…” Toki weakly protested, as Skwisgaar’s hand dove inside his shirt. “It ams soes nice outside…” Everyone had gone to swim at the lake because it was so damn hot and Toki wanted to get changed to join them. Because it was summer and it was…a vacation, right? Toki was pretty sure of it but Skwisgaar’s fingers were making him question reality. 

“We has times…” Skwisgaar said in a throaty voice, before his lips suckled the skin on Toki’s neck. “We has lotsa times…”

Any reluctance in Toki’s mind faded away the moment Skwisgaar’s eyes laid on him, his own eyelids growing heavy. As their mouths met, Toki decided to put the swimming plans on hold. 

It wasn’t all that recent since they started messing around, though they still hadn’t told…anyone, really. Honesty, it just added to the thrill of it, to keep a secret that big from the rest of the band. 

So, when Charles suggested they take a few days off recording at some random cabin well within american forests, the excitement was palpable. They would be free to disappear to get raunchy together, without having to justify their absence to the other three, which would sometimes happen back in Mordhaus. 

…They just didn’t expect for the trip to be in a car, so they couldn’t sneak in any incidental gropes or whisper dirty things in each other’s ear like they would’ve on a plane or bus. Of course the moment they freed themselves of his friends was meant to end like this. 

Not to mention, Skwisgaar wanting him so badly was a turn on in itself. 

The bed squeaked under the weight as they continued making out. Skwisgaar quickly got rid of his shirt, his lips returning to Toki’s with urgency. Aroused, Toki reached for Skwisgaar’s belt and undid it in a matter of seconds. He had barely taken it off when he heard a creak outside their room.

“Waits.” 

“Whats?” Skwisgaar’s face was buried in Toki’s neck.

“I heards somet’ings.” Toki whispered, gesturing to the door when Skwisgaar lifted his head.

Frowning, Skwisgaar glared at the door. “Who ams there?”

No response. No noise either.

After a while, Skwisgaar shrugged. “Maybe it ams de winds.”

“J-Ja.” Toki chuckled and they continued as if nothing had happened. 

Toki took off his shirt and Skwisgaar’s lips began tracing a loving path down his abdomen. Toki closed his eyes and sighed, focusing on the sensation of skin against skin and the warmth of Skwisgaar’s touch. So, it was to his utmost surprise when Skwisgaar suddenly stopped.

“Da fucks…” Toki heard him say and he opened his eyes.

Skwisgaar was staring at the door in disbelief. When he turned to look, he saw it was slowly opening, as if someone had pushed it. “Wha…”

“Alrights.” Skwisgaar got off the bed, annoyed. “Who ams it? Dis amsnt funnies.”

“Skwisgaar!” Toki tried to hand his shirt back at him but Skwisgaar wasn’t listening, grabbing his guitar resting against the wall instead. 

“Betters not be any dildos fans!” He said, wielding the instrument as if it were a sword. In a way, it made sense that the one that would turn Skwisgaar violent was being interrupted from having action. “Wells?” Upon meeting no answer, he disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

“W-Waits!” Toki tried to follow him, but something was in the corner of his eye. 

He turned and saw the silhouette of a big, tall man. He was wearing a hockey mask, strands of straight white hair coming out of the sides of his face. His skin was pale like a dead man’s and there was a red glow coming out of his eyes, piercing through Toki.

“Skwisgaars!” Toki yelled in horror, too frozen to move.

Hurried steps came back into the room and Skwisgaar appeared again. “Whats?”

“L…Looks!” Toki pointed at the window, only to see there was nothing now. “Whats?! I-I swears…dere was ams…scaries mans…”

Thankfully, Skwisgaar didn’t doubt him, walking to his side instead. “Dis places ams givinks de creeps.”

Toki nodded, looking out of the window in disbelief still.

Where the hell did they get themselves into? 

[that-left-turn]

What I don't understand is how they're trying to sell Daryl in the spin off. You could see a change starting in S11. His shirts got tighter and somehow, he looked more "styled" than in earlier seasons. They definitely tried to make him the male sex symbol but in the spin off, which was supposed to market him as the lone hero who's getting all the girls like James Bond, he looks rough, dirty and is definitely unflattering clothes. He doesn't look like the same man.

Is this intentional? Because as sad as it is, he lost his appeal. I'm not talking about the coat or the skinny scarf but his whole persona. And it's not the unusual and unassuming sexy look he had in earlier season which was a specific type.

Why did they choose the wardrobe, why the hairstyle? What mightve been their intention? From interviews they clearly wanted him to be the hero and Norman mentioned the hero has a love interest but why did they style him like the drunk uncle Luke?

That's what it looks like when you let the actor decide what the character should wear. Normally, the showrunner and costume designer discuss the vision for a cohesive look for the upcoming season in pre-production. There will be sketches, mood boards, fabric swatches, color palettes, etc. For this type of show, set design would also play a role because the setting (zombie post-apocalyptic horror in France) would affect what kind of clothing the characters wear.

I'd like to sincerely apologize to all French people for what Zabel did, imagining that you haven't progressed beyond the inter-war era and generally proving that he's just as ignorant as the stereotype of the 'stupid American.' It looks like he'll do worse by the Spaniards—how is that even possible?—by turning them into the Wild West. (I'm genuinely scared of S3 looking like settlers vs. Native Americans with all parts played by actors from one of the earlier occupying nations of the American Southwest.) Not all EPs are like Elmer Fudd.

In S1-2, Daryl looked like a dirty old man in his trench coat, which definitely isn't the look anyone strives for in a leading man, but I think Norman's aim could've been casual 60's rive gauche intellectual? It doesn't fit the character, but it also falls short of that mark too. It's just a bad mix of elements which don't work individually or together. The hair is definitely all Norman and I'm pretty sure Louis was cast because he has the texture and length that Norman wishes he had.

The rest of the show was mostly a cohesive WWII look with everything from Genet's menacing pseudo-SS apparel to Anna's lounge singer outfits and Isabelle's sensible 'SOE operative on the run' costumes, along with Carol's take on bomber pilot attire. Apart from the suspenders, Daryl is the odd one out and that's not normal for a show.

I know there was a lot of petulant complaints about wearing the CW soldier getup during S11 of the flagship show and that's why we seldom saw Daryl in uniform. It's possible that the costume designer for DarDix threw up their hands in surrender because Zabel would've sided with Norman and not his head of costuming. I don't think he understands the importance of clothes in storytelling, or that the showrunner is supposed to respect all the people who work for him.

I have another ask (on target audiences) which is relevant to what you're asking here, so once I get another chance to sit down and reply to something, you could check out that post for a more 'big picture' answer to your ask.

The shorter answer is that Norman wanted to look this way and ultimately, it wasn't a fight worth having. I assume he thinks "drunk uncle Luke" looks attractive and/or that's the look that appeals to his fiancée, so Norman has extrapolated from that that all women will find it sexy. The aloof, unkempt persona is a misguided choice and hypothetically, he might be styling it on the action heroes of the 70's, like Clint Eastwood, who played taciturn hard men. A male hero for emotionally repressed men (the uncle Lukes around us) who don't want to worry about personal hygiene.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

The Angel of Easy

Mads!! I was so excited when Réka messaged me to be your Secret Santa pinch hitter. So here is a special little Nixon fic for my favourite fellow Lewis fangirl.

Being one of the few female intelligence officers in the 101st was always going to be a slightly different experience. Despite her training as an SOE and working at Bletchley Circle nothing prepared her to be thrown into a company of men who drank, swore and fought like dogs but formed a group far stronger than any family could ever be. One of the men she warmed most to was Lewis Nixon. His endless sarcasm and witty humour had cemented him in Y/n’s heart and it didn’t take long for them to become firm friends and then something more.

“Do you have to go on that patrol? Can’t you just stay here with me?” Lewis whined, his head still buried under the bed covers as his near-naked frame lay sprawled across the bed.

Y/n laughed, lacing up her lump boots as the grown man rolled over to face her, his blurry eyes and sleepy smile tugging on her heartstrings and if she looked at him any longer she would climb right back into bed with him.

“You know I have to go. This is finally my chance to truly prove myself,” she retorted, this would be her first time on a patrol without Lewis and she intended to gain the respect of her fellow paratroopers.

“You’ve already proven yourself to me in many ways,” Lewis wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Y/n sighed, hitting him with the nearest pillow.

“I have to go, I’ll see you later. I love you,” Y/n called as the door slammed shut behind her.

“Love you too,” Lewis mumbled into the pillow, his mind drifting back into his sleepy state when he sat upright. Had she just said what he thought she had? And had he replied with the same answer?

“You know Lieutenant, you’re not that bad after all,” Johnny Martin, nodded at her and she smiled in return. Johnny was a hard man to win over so this was the biggest compliment he could have given.

“Yeah, you’re alright Little Lady,” Bull chimed in, patting her on the back with his large hand.

“Well thanks, guys, I knew you’d like me eventually.”

The group continued to laugh as they followed the path back towards their camp when a loud crack from beside them caused them all to hit the deck. “FLASH?” Johnny shouted, his weapon raised. “Flash? Or we fire.” Was followed by a burst of machine gun fire. The firing above Y/n head caused her to freeze, she’d been through basic training just like the rest of them, she’d fired her weapon and she carried her M1 with her now, but something inside her would allow her to move. Her limbs lay frozen against the wet, muddy soil, her head pressed to the ground.

“Y/L/N GET UP!” Johnny grabbed her collar and shoved her against the nearest tree. “Y/l/n, you used that goddamn gun of yours. I don’t care if you are a Lieutenant or a fucking Major. I’m not losing any of my men because of you.” Johnny's voice was harsh, his usual snarl mixed with a desperation for her to follow his instructions.

Y/n nodded quickly, raising her M1 and firing around the edge of the tree. Johnny seemed satisfied with this and continued his way along the line to check in with the rest of his men. Y/n continued to fire, round after round, clip after clip, with only the image of Lewis in her mind to keep her grounded.

“I’m out of ammo,” she called down the line but the others were too preoccupied to hear her above the firing. Y/n did something she never thought she would do, she got up and ran. Time stood still as her legs carried her from behind the cover of her tree to the next tree, bullets whizzing past her.

“You alright Luz?” She asked, sliding down next to George who was trying to call through to Winters on his radio. George nodded to her and she grabbed his ammunition, loaded her weapon and started firing again.

The noise was deafening, nothing like practising on the ranges back at Toccoa.

“Y/L/N!” Johnny called, waving at her from the next tree down. “There’s a whole goddamn Panzer division coming from the south. We’ve gotta get outta here.”

Y/n nodded, motioning for him and the other men to head for cover further back from the line as she continued to fire. Johnny and Bull appeared by her side soon after.

“The others have retreated. I think we’ve hit their line. What’s your orders, Lieutenant? Johnny, Bull and George looked at her expectantly and Y/n felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“We hold them off for as long as we can, at least we can give the others a chance to pull back.” The men nodded at her, seemingly approving of her reply.

George continued to keep Winters and the battalion in the loop while the others continued to fire upon the inbound Panzer division. Mortar fire from Malarkey’s mortar squad littered the tree line in front of them and sporadic machine gun fire came in response.

“Winters says to pull back. The air force is bringing in air cover,” George shouted over the firing.

“Cease fire,” Y/n called, motioning for Johnny to head back first while supplying covering fire, then Bull and then George.

“What about you Lieutenant?” George asked, hiking his radio onto his back.

“I’ll be right behind you George, okay?” George nodded, keeping his head down and sprinting towards the cover of the tree line.

Now that she was alone Y/n wondered how she was meant to get herself out of this situation and without covering fire she was a sitting duck. They would have had her firing zeroed by now and mortars would surely start firing soon.

“Well, it’s not or never,” Y/n threw herself out from behind the tree, firing towards the German line as she retreated. Once the clip was empty she slung the weapon onto her back and turned tail, running towards George who was waving frantically at her.

“Y/N COME ON!” He screamed, grabbing her hand as she collapsed into him. “Christ Lieutenant, you’ve got a death wish,” he laughed, helping her up. Johnny nodded at her and Bull gave her his signature smile until their faces fell.

“Hey, what’s all the long faces for?” She laughed, “We just got out of there alive didn’t we?”

“Umm Y/n you might wanna sit down,” George caught her as her knees buckled beneath her. Johnny and Bull quickly moved in to help. Johnny pulled his aid kit out of his pocket, pressing a bandage firmly to the pool of blood at her side, before helping to lift her into Bull’s arms.

“Stay with us Little Lady,” Bull whispered as her heavy eyelids slid closed.

“You know what they say, Dick,” Lewis sighed, rubbing his hand over his stubbly chin.

“What do they say, Lew?” Dick stretched his arms above his head, as he sat in the armchair beside him.

“Well sometimes, no matter how much you want it, some stories just don’t get a happy ending,” Lewis choked, the tears freely rolling down his cheeks again. He had cried so much in the last twenty-four hours that he wasn’t sure how he had any tears left to cry.

“She’ll pull through, Nix. She’s strong and she knows you are waiting for her. She’ll make it.” Dick patted Lewis on the back, raising from his chair and leaving Lewis to sit in his uncomfortable silence once more.

“Lewis?” Her voice was weak, her breaths shallow but her bright eyes watched him intently as he raised his weary head.

“Y/n? By God you’re awake. Oh thank God,” Lewis flung his arms around her neck, burying his head into her neck and crushing the air from her lungs. “Careful Lew, I’m a little sore,” Y/n whined, pushing Lewis gently to which he jumped away.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. Are you alright?” Lewis sat back down in the armchair, his hand clutching desperately at hers.

“I’m a little sore,” she admitted, wincing as she tried to move.

Lewis jumped up again, “do you need me to get, Roe? Do you need some morphine?” Lewis' eyes were wild, searching her face for the unspoken answer.

“No. No, I'm alright. Just sore,” Y/n reassured him, reaching for his hand which Lewis took instantly.

“I was so worried I’d lost you,” Lewis admitted, his eyes full of tears but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, too afraid that he’d blink and she’d be gone.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Lew. It was all going so well. I think I proved myself to them.”

Lewis chuckled, leaning forward to brush the hair that had fallen upon her face, “You, my love certainly did prove yourself. You are all the men of Easy can talk about. Hell, you’re the ‘Angel of Easy Company.”

Y/n laughed, “Well that’s something I suppose.”

“Just next time, maybe don’t get yourself killed over it alright? I don’t think I could go through that again,” Lewis looked at her poignantly and Y/n just smiled. Her fingers reached up, brushing her fingers over Lew’s cheek, cupping it gently.

“I promise, Lew. I won’t do it again but if I do at least I know I have you to come back to.”

Dick smiled from his spot in the doorway, he’d had a message from Colonel Sink but he couldn’t bear to interrupt this precious moment. Just for those few minutes, his friends were happy and that was all Dick could ask for.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @supervalcsi

[mariapaulaaah]

Dinner with Colten's family would be the following Sunday and while everyone was planning the event, Akemi noticed how Emiyo seemed bothered by something, answering monologues and feeling uncomfortable. Concerned and wanting to help, she made sure to talk to them.

Akemi: Emiyo, is everything okay? You've never been like this, did something happen?

Emiyo: Nothing to worry about, Kemi…

Akemi: You know I'm your older sister and I always worry. Is someone bothering you at school?

Emiyo: No… it's just… would you mind if I asked you to use neutral pronouns? Would you fight, thinking it was silly?

Akemi: Of course not! Emiyo, we're a family… we have two mothers, one of our mother's cousins ​​is a trans man, if you want us to use those pronouns, we will. I promise nothing will change. I love you.

With a lighter heart and feeling like could breathe again, Emiyo hugged her back, thanking her sister.

Mari's note: I may sound a little harsh, but please, even though Emiyo is not the main generation, respect your pronouns… It was a little annoying to talk about this part and not see people respecting it, even though I told you more than once what the pronouns were 😥

I don't know how the speech will be in English, since I try to read and talk to you without the help of a translator, but I end up translating the writing. I will try to formulate sentences that do not have words with gender variation, but Google might play a trick on me… so I apologize in advance and I am accepting suggestions in case of any mistakes!

PREVIOUS 《🐎》 NEXT

Translation below (PT-BR)

O jantar com a família de Colten seria no domingo seguinte e enquanto todos planejavam o evento, Akemi notava como Emiyo parecia incomodado com algo, respondendo monólogos e desconfortável. Preocupada e querendo ajudar, fez questão de conversarem.

Akemi: Emiyo, ta tudo bem? Você nunca ficou desse jeito, aconteceu algo?

Emiyo: Nada para se preocupar, Kemi…

Akemi: Sabe que eu sou sua irmã mais velha e me preocupo sempre. Tem alguém te incomodando na escola?

Emiyo: Não… é só… vocês se incomodariam se pedisse para me tratarem por pronomes neutros? Vocês iam brigar, achando que é bobagem?

Akemi: É claro que não! Emiyo, somos uma família… temos duas mães, um dos primos da nossa mãe é um homem trans, se quer que usemos esses pronomes, vamos usar. Prometo que nada vai mudar. Amo você.

Com o coração mais leve e sentindo que poderia respirar mais uma vez, Emiyo retribuiu o abraço, agradecendo a irmã.

Nota da Mari: Talvez eu soe um pouco grossa, mas por favor, mesmo Emiyo não sendo a geração principal respeitem seus pronomes… Era um pouco chato contar sobre essa parte e não ver as pessoas respeitando, mesmo eu falando mais de uma vez quais eram os pronomes :/

[malkaleh]

I really want to do my end of year sappiness post right now so I am going to do it. This year. This year, this year was the year that the fact that I made it is something I have to talk about it, because honestly I wasn’t sure between everything. And in the trauma (the activated Jewish Trauma Genre), in the hate I have also found love. Am Yisrael Chai. We live. I live.

Which is why I have to first send my love to my Jewish Mutuals/Friends and to Jumblr - @cephalopodvictorious @captainlordauditor and just, every one of my Jewish Mutuals and people who have sent kind words. Who have made me, a patrilineal mizrahi jewish woman reconnecting with her heritage and faith because of abuse feel Jewish enough to go to Synagogue.

This year was, despite everything the year I reconnected with old friends (shout to my friends in physical space - E, R, C and C), I took an art class, I swam more, I wrote a bunch of words, I found my love of art again and discovered that I might, might be good at it, I even asked for things like gifts even though it’s Terrifying.

To my saatis. My sisters. My chosen family. Thank you for everything - the phone calls you let me schedule, the chats and the wise words and the blorbos and from some of you the in person hugs (there will be more I will offer hugs to and I will also hug again). @shes-a-voodoo-child @bibliothekara @wheresonichedgehogwnt @pearlsthatwereeyes @star-anise @notabuddhist @kawuli lemonsharks @maevedarlings @ruffboijuliaburnsides @taibhsearachd @blackeyedgirl-writes @armyofthedaegiloth @strangeetudes @findingfeather

@bessemerprocess @sarking @jesidres @kshandra @amadistuff FRIENDS. FRIENDS. Love you to the moon and back - and we are here. We are here.

And @geeoharee - The Sherlock Content <3.

To the Pocket Friends Who Have/Are Becoming(If It’s okay obviously!) Become Friends: @rahabs whose kindness I will never ever forget. To @theladyelizabeth who patiently answers my questions about all kinds of Tudors Things and who is like, The Best. To @nocompromise-noregrets for Ellie, for answering archives questions and just in general. To @gen-is-gone - a saati in the making, holder of correct Doctor Who Opinions forever. To @herawell - the bravest when scared, indulges my OT3 verse. To @miabicicletta - one of the best fic writers, so generous and kind and whose comments make my entire day. @eidetictelekinetic - my favourite Tudors Fic Writer is my Friend Now and is awesome.

@jkthinkythoughts <333333.

@lorata - whose worldbuilding leaves me in awe and who is just, frankly absolutely great.

@isagrimorie because CORRECT DOCTOR WHO AND BEST META

@feuillesmortes for never failing to make me think, to post beautiful poetry and for the best H7/EOY sources and for always, above all being kind.

@hoursofreading @becauseforoncethisisme (special shout out to you <3) @disredspectful (oh my gosh your words)

@anhaga @goshawke @beatrice-otter @alexseanchai <333333

Also @nurselaney for indulging my Thomas/Mihrimah Content and also the women of the SOE.

@sherwoodknights for Scarlet Pimpernel and also Patrick Gibson feels.

@quillington - for correct Anne Boleyn and Scarlet Pimpernel thoughts and also being The Sweetest.

@lordlykisses - kindness and Taylor Swift. And @cleoselene for Taylor Swift and kind words I will also never forget.

To The Cromwell/James Frain Appreciation Brigade - @uncheckedaggression @reallyginnyf (also a fellow hurt/comfort enjoyer) @cinemaocd - thank you <3.

To all the West Wing Discord People - I adore you. Thank you for being so kind and welcoming and wonderful.

And to all my mutuals. Thank you for bearing with me this year, with so much kindness. I know it’s been A Lot but I have, despite everything felt so so loved.