Briney, an accountant student in real life, an artist, illustrator, and comic artist online. I also like reading and writing a fanfiction, my current obsession is any franchise that has Tom Hiddleston in it as I adore him so much! Also a huge feminist and humanitarian activist, nice too meet you <3
An artbook about my OC, Briney, featuring life in the Victorian era and the difficulties women had to face back then. I also add a little bit of Stella from Essex Serpent because I desperately want to save her from Will and Cora. And of course, Peter's face claim is modeled after Tom Hiddleston. Enjoy reading!
I'm still processing. But just some dot points thoughts about Jonathan, The Night Manager S1&2.
Jonathan NOT being able to have a decent night of sleep bcos he keeps on dreaming about Roper, the shit that went down, and just trauma trauma trauma.
Jonathan pushing and pulling at his hands, fully disengaging & lying through his teeth at his quarterly mandated psychology appointment.
Jonathan REFUSING several promotions over a period of 5/6 years. Wanting to sit behind a desk and screen, observe & report but REFUSING to engage, to interact. BUT really just waiting for the first sign of danger, first sign of Roper, bcos I don't think he EVER truly believed Roper was dead.
Jonathan NOT going on dates, his neighbour wants to fuck him so bad. He just wants to stay home with his cat, Corky. I CANNOT believe he named him Corky. But also I 100% thought he would.
Jonathan and his team, where he knows things about them but they really don't know much about him.
Jonathan, soft, charming and still so helpful even as he made himself softer, less a threat.
Jonathan Pine making the connections and pursuing them to the end of the earth.
And over the series the overarching thought of how fucking kind he still is. URGH.
Was the homoeroticism btw Pine and Roper intentional in s1 ?
inspired by this poll by @lokiinmediasideblog i just didn't want to highjack op's post or write an entire essay in the tags but it's a really interesting question !
replied "sorta" bc to me there definitely was something intentional there but not in a shippy way - more in the way homophobic and homosocial hypermasculine environments generally circle back to a homoerotic element that is less about desire and more about humiliation and power.
Roper isn't openly homophobic but he treats women like objects and his whole worldview is deeply soaked in that whole im the alpha top dog shit.
at the Swiss Lodge Roper makes a disdainful joke about Corky's sexuality - he tolerates his vices but I think on some level he also uses it as psychological leverage to feel superior. (maybe he's like those straight people that get a kick out of having gay friends they think are into them or sth for the ego of it all.) all the while showing off his much younger girlfriend taking a bath naked drinking champagne, in front of Pine who is trying to stay professional, and defying him to do anything about it. It's all uncomfortable in a squirmy decadent insane rich people don't respect boundaries sort of way and it really sets the tone.
Roper likes controlling other men's sexuality but it's more about power and a show of dominance than anything else. something similar with him letting Corky sexually assault Pine in public and be all like haha he's into you and he wants to kill you in this vaguely threatening way. Or implying he let Pine sleep with Jed. It's all just happening because he allows it.
I think he's also aware of the sugar daddy implications of the Andrew Birch transformation sequence and wants to see how much discomfort and slight humiliation Pine is going to endure, plays it up even. I think when he talks to Pine about how they dream of each other there is an element of this to it ; I don't think his fascination for Pine is actually sexual but he might get a kick out of the idea that it is for Pine.
One of the key characteristics of social dominance in those environments is being able to humiliate your 'subordinates' without them being able to do anything about it, and sometimes that includes these sorts of sexually charged elements. i know a lot of people on this website like to interpret this sort of thing as proof of repressed queerness but idk i've seen the straightest men on earth pull this shit. honestly this is a bit like with SA it's not about attraction or desire really it's about power, and social pressure. frat hazing also comes to mind.
tbh this framing of queerness superposed with such an agressively straight hero made me borderline uncomfortable in s1. But i also think that's why it's so beautiful in s2 that Pine and Teddy's homoerotic connection somehow leads to something genuine and redemptive the likes of which Roper isn't even able to comprehend (he thinks it's just Teddy being Pine's dog now because he's weak). Fits in beautifully with the whole thing of Roper demanding love through tyranny. He can't conceptualize a relationship between two people that isn't about who's got power over the other, who is using who and screwing who over, so of course he sees queerness like that too.
And if Teddy dies at the end of s2 to me it's clearly not framed in a "tragic queers have to die" sort of way and more in a "he was just about to find grace (partly through queer love, which is paralleled with religious devotion and salvation) and Roper killing him is a sign of how monstrous he and his worldview are and a metaphor for how imperialism destroys the possibility of any sort of genuine connection without exploitation between people" sort of way which ! yeah they ate so much with that one
to me it makes s1 so much more compelling in hindsight. tl;dr if Roper is queercoded in any way it's like those ancient Romans who were like yr not gay if you're the one doing the fucking and you're only fucking slaves. also sth sth fascism takes erotic energy, sublimates it into adoration of the leader and ultimately channels it all towards death etc
i do NOT write for myself i write for the eleven year old girl walking circles on the playground making up stories in her head and muttering the dialogue out loud. i see you girl. that stick you found DOES look like a cool dagger.
There's a new teacher on staff and he's struggling to make friends so he sits with you in the break room....
Okay, you asked for it....
Tea date
Fandom: The Night Manager
Genre: AU, Fluff (-ish)
Pairing: Jonathan Pine x Reader
Words number: 1321
Warning: none
Summary: Jonathan bonds with you.
The breakroom was noisy, as it always was during the first morning break after the holidays. Each member of the staff was all too happy to talk about what they had done without being truly interested in what their coworkers were saying. As a matter of fact, it was only a competition to impress the others and make them believe they had an amazing life.
You did not like to play that game. You had no social life whatsoever and you did not care one bit that everybody knew it, which is why you usually chose a chair in the corner, far away from those fake exchanges.
You inwardly rolled your eyes at them and opened the latest fantasy book you had purchased. Better use those fifteen minutes wisely.
You were about to start when a shadow loomed over you. Hoping it was not one of those overly curious ones, you raised your head to greet the intruder. A light smile curled up your lips when you met the soft eyes of the new literature teacher, Jonathan Pine.
“May I?” He gestured to the unoccupied seat next to yours.
“Of course.”
He sat down and let his head gently fall backwards against the wall. You took the time to admire his facial features. He was perfection in itself, a real Adonis and yet no one here had shown interest. Maybe it was because he is English, maybe it was because he was always elegantly dressed…although he had let go of the tie and suit for the day, choosing to wear a simple blue shirt and dark blue jeans. And yet, he could have been in rags but he exuded elegance and refinement. He was out of place between those idiots who thought they were above talking to him.
Not that you had talked to him more but you at least took the time to say hello and asked if he was alright. You heart clenched when you thought about the time it took you to get included even if you did not really care. But Jonathan seemed to care a lot. He was willing to fit in and it seemed unfair to leave him out of everything. He was doing his best and the kids loved him. Come to think of it, that might be the real reason behind this jealousy.
“Not easy being the new one here” You told him gently as you closed your book and let it rest on your lap.
Jonathan’s eyes fluttered open. He lifted his head and looked at you, as if he was wondering if you were really talking to him.
“I guess it is not.” He answered with a tiny tired smiled on his face that made your heart clench.
“They will come around, don’t worry.” You tried to comfort him. “It took me a while too.”
“Really?” He gazed into your eyes and you gulped, mesmerized for a second by the ocean blue color of his own eyes. This man held unknowingly some power over you, a fact that both scared and thrilled you. This was uncharted territory for you and it was exhilarating.
“I guess they only need a little time to get familiar with Europeans.” He said jokingly, unaware of your inner turmoil.
You blinked, waking from your daze and snorted at his words. “Because you still consider yourself European after the whole Brexit debacle?”
He raised his eyebrows and you comically put your hand over your mouth, inwardly berating yourself for offending him. His lips curved into a smile.
“Well, we are still part of that continent. French people…why do you always have to hold grudges?”
“English people, why do you always want to be a part of something but reject everything from this something at the same time?” You answered in the same tone.
He laughed and the two of you exchanged a knowing grin.
“How long have you been teaching here?” He asked.
“Three years in this school but I have been teaching in the US for a little bit more than seven years. So, trust me when I say I know how hard it is to fit in. I used to get part time contracts only and to change schools a lot. Now, I can finally settle down. It’s…nice. What about you?”
“I was offered this permanent position last year but it is my first time here.” He cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, it’s the first time I am teaching in high school altogether. I used to teach English literature at Cambridge.”
You let out a gasp. “Cambridge? What on earth made you decide to leave this prestigious place to come here?”
A sudden sad glint appeared in his eyes. “I needed a change of scenery. Matters of the heart are always complicated affairs.”
Your heart clenched at his words. Yes, matters of the heart were always very complicated. You knew a lot about it yourself. It was one of the reasons why you flew away from home all those years ago. You did not regret it all. And nobody was probably missing you anyways…
“I can assure you it did not involve a student though.” He added facetiously.
You blinked at his words and gave him a fainted smile. It looked like he had sensed your sudden sadness and had wished to lighten the mood. You were the one who had brought on the subject but he was not blaming you. On the contrary, he was trying to make you feel better. It was not something that happened a lot. He seemed to be a man with a good heart and you felt the sudden urge to repay him somehow. He needed company and maybe that is what you needed too, somehow.
“You know, there is a nice coffeehouse not very far from here. I often make a stop there on my way home. They have a wide range of good tea.”
“Offering to have a nice cup of tea? You know your way to an English man’s heart, Darling.”
Your belly did a somersault at the term of endearment. You usually did not like the familiarity but from new teacher Jonathan Pine, it did not seem to bother you.
“That’s just because I hate coffee.” You answered nonchalantly to give you some composure. “What do you think about it? Maybe we could go on Friday after work.”
He seemed to ponder your words and you realized you might have been a bit presumptuous. He may not need company that much. Not yours especially.
“But I can also give you the address if you want to go by yourself…or take someone else.”
Heat crept up your cheeks. Great, now you were babbling from embarrassment.
“J’accepte avec grand plaisir. Mais c’est moi qui invite.” He replied smoothly in a perfect French with just that tiny bit of an English accent. This man was definitely full of surprises. You nodded, speechless.
The bell rang, waking you up from your daze. You grabbed your book and rose up from your seat. Jonathan followed your lead. You looked at each other.
“Well…see you on Friday, then. Three o’clock?”
“Three o’clock, it is.” He smiled warmly. “I cannot wait, Darling.”
Darling. There it was again; the somersault in your belly, the heat on your cheeks. This man was making you feel things you were not ready to feel, especially not in the breakroom of a high school.
You smiled at him one last time before leaving the room in a hurry. You knew your coworkers were throwing suspicious glances at the two of you and it would not be long before you would be the main topic of their gossips.
But you were also aware that Jonathan had probably stared at you until you had left the room and that made you feel all tingly. Maybe soon you would give those coworkers something to really gossip about.
French Translation: It's my great pleasure to accept. But it's on me.
nah i don’t even care if i’m projecting that scene in the bolaños house felt like dubious consent from both parties. i hated it.
being told you want something doesn’t mean you do. a grown ass man having the strength to push someone away and stop things doesn’t mean he wasn’t emotionally compromised from bewilderment. a grown ass woman making someone else touch her as a manipulative tactic or reinforcement of control over an uncontrollable situation doesn’t mean she wanted it either.
it was awful, and i hope the series choosing to make roxana turn face is a testament to that.
say what you like about the teddy dos santos criminal entourage, they are really consistent about trying to convince fake matthew ellis to visit his fake french daughter.
Fic Summary: England in the 1890s. When your spirited sister, Charlotte, defies your family by running away from her arranged engagement to Sir Thomas Sharpe, you are the one who must keep your family from scandal and ruin...by taking her place as the baronet's bride.
Chapter One//Chapter Two//Chapter Three
Word Count: 2612
Chapter Summary: You and your husband attend your first ball as a couple.
Chapter Warnings: Jealousy and the fear of cheating, but none. Mentions of sex, and this chapter does have a brief explicit smut scene (P in V sex). Not safe for work or those under the age of 18. The Smut begins at "“I…I need you. Now. I need to make love to my wife" and ends at "The carriage soon stopped."
A/N: Happy New Year! I hope you enjoy it!
If I miss something and you see something in my work that could be triggering that I didn't mention, then it is your responsibility to please please please tell me. I will take full accountability for how I portray marginalized groups and sensitive subject matter and make sure to better my writing and warnings so affected parties are protected.
The Baronet Seeks A Wife Taglist: @stainlessciel @mjsthrillernp @thegodofnotknowing @magicalmichelle96 @princessdragon23 @heavyymetalchick @xalphafox (if anyone wants to join a general taglist of my work or just be on this specific one, let me know!)
What passed was a lovely period of time for a honeymoon. It was a summer in the countryside with bees gently dotting over flowers, and a soft, cool breeze in the air. You spent your time relaxing and enjoying the presence of your new husband. There were walks, cards, books, and, of course, plenty of time exploring each other in bed.
Once it was over, you both were bright and giddy. Saddened that it was over, but also ready at the same time. It was a bittersweet farewell to that little paradise where a marriage was just born. arrived at home. You both set off for London with stars in your eyes and plenty of time to hold each other’s hands throughout the journey. For you were like adolescents, and even the smallest touch was something profound and exciting.
The carriage then stopped at Thomas’s house. It was definitely smaller than your own, but not small in itself. For there were two floors above and a few servants inside: enough that one could suspect he was indeed a baronet.
Thomas eagerly hopped out of the carriage and darted around to your side. He held out his hand and helped you down from there as servants unloaded your luggage.
“Now, allow me,” he said. “We have one tradition to uphold-it’s bad luck for the bride to trip when she enters her new home.”
With an easy strength, he lifted you into his arms. He began by sweeping you off your feet and carrying you across the threshold. It was everything in you not to giggle childishly.
Once he set you down, you kissed him on the cheek, and he blushed easily.
“You make me feel as if I were in a book,” you said dreamily.
“Certainly a nice one, I suppose?” he replied.
It was then that one servant arrived with the correspondence delivered over the trip. You noticed one letter in particular was small, and the color was cream. You opened it up at once and read it silently. You then turned to your husband.
“Thomas! Oh, Thomas, we’ve been invited! Mrs. Wentworth invited us to her ball next week! Oh, please let us go!”
“Well, I don’t see why not,” Thomas answered, peeking over to look at the invitation too.
❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁
The day of the ball arrived. Thomas looked handsome as ever in his tuxedo, cape, and top hat. He managed to give it a little polish before he set it on his head. You came down the steps in a silver dress. You had a fondness for that one. It seemed to gleam in the moonlight.
He smiled as you came down the steps and approached him.
“Good heavens, I hope you are ready to have a whole room staring at you. I doubt I’ll be able to dance,” he praised.
“Are we ready to go, to truly be a married couple?” you asked him.
“I am certain,” he said. “Now, let us go. They must see how radiant you are.
The Wentworths lived on the other side of town, so it was a longer carriage drive than usual. You draped your arm around Thomas’s and stepped into the house. You heard the servant beside you announce, “Sir Sharpe and Lady Sharpe.” Your stomach fluttered a little; you were still getting used to that being your title.
Heads in that white ballroom turned over. They smiled and welcomed you. Men in their tuxes and women in the most exquisite dresses all flooded over the marble floors. They stuck to the circle around the main room as couples danced in the middle. Strings played heartily in the other end of the room to a jaunty jig. You could already smell sweat, cigars, and flowers that decorated every wall and corner of the room.
It was a delight knowing you didn’t have to scour for names on your dance card. That you already had a partner to dance far more than the typical two dances. And you wanted to enjoy each one. Thomas’s knowledge of dancing was vast, and you wished to use that to enjoy the night. You both danced the waltz, the quadrille, and the polka, to name a few. Time seemed to flow. His feet seemed to float above the ground. When you spun, all you could see was him, and all you could feel was the rush of air and the heat in your cheeks. He even showed you where the dining room was. You could easily cool yourself off with a glass of punch after so much dancing.
Thomas was away to chat with some of the men he knew. You were already indulging in a second cup of punch when Mrs. Wentworth came forward- a short, stout woman with dark hair and bright eyes.
“Why, Lady Sharpe! How good of you to come! How was the honeymoon?”
“Oh, it was most wonderful. We enjoyed it very much- the countryside is beautiful this time of year,” you responded.
“And how is your husband?”
“Oh, he is perfectly well. He is only happy to dance- he’s the most accomplished partner a lady could wish for.”
It was then there was…a voice. A voice that broke through the noise of the talkative crowd. It was a voice you’d recognize anywhere. A voice you hadn’t heard in months.
“Why, I’m sure you’re having a good, capital time!”
You almost dropped your cup of punch. You had to set it down, for you were no longer thirty, despite your heart picking up in hope.
“Mrs. Wentworth, please excuse me!” you breathed out as you hurried forward.
You rushed out to where you heard it. And as you turned a corner, you stifled a gasp.
Charlotte. Charlotte was here.
She was talking with Thomas. She was dressed in a more practical dress of brown and held a notepad in one hand. As they were talking, they were smiling.
You stopped in your steps. And as you stopped, you took a close look at their faces.
Something about that look, that easy smile, their easy way of talking, stopped you. It was too large, too free, too easy. And he was smiling too, his eyes bright. She seemed to look at him lovingly.
You recalled Charlotte’s words about Thomas. Calling him “too ugly” for her. Had…had she changed her mind? Were they…were they flirting? Already less than a month of marriage, and Thomas was…was…encouraging her affections?
It was then you stepped forward.
“Lottie?!” you cried
She turned and gasped your name. The sisterly love you kept in there ran through your heart. You could not hate Charlotte, no matter what she did. And now, in this moment, she mattered more than anything. Your heart hammered in your chest, hardly believing any of this was real.
You both ran forward and embraced. Forgetting basic etiquette, only relishing in the joy of seeing each other. Thomas stepped aside to give you both some privacy to talk.
“Lottie! Lottie, tell me- what happened?! What are you doing!? Why are you here!?” you asked.
“ I’ve found employment as a journalist. So far, they’re having me write fluff pieces such as gossip columns and light, little interviews. But I was told if I keep at it, I could move onto more serious works!” Charlotte boasted, placing one hand on her hip.
“Lottie, that’s fantastic, but you had us worried sick! I began to worry if you died or otherwise if I lost you forever!” you cried.
“Oh, but I couldn’t live like that anymore- I wanted my place in the world to feel earned! I wanted to do something for myself-it is my life, and I wanted to do something with it more than be a debutante!” Charlotte explained.
You took off your glove to show the ring on your right hand.
“Lottie, you know they made me marry Thomas, and he’s my husband now,” you reported.
Charlotte took your hand, examining the band around your finger.
“Hmm…part of me wondered if that would happen. But I know if anyone could handle being married to him, it’d be you.”
The song ended, and couples of the current dance parted. One could hear a small ripple of laughter in the ballroom.
“You mean you set this up so this would happen?!” you asked. You were wondering at the rate your blood was rushing to your body if you would need your hand.
“I wondered if it would-but-I’d wonder if you’d be the happier among us to marry Thomas,” she said.
Thomas, you noted. Not Sir Sharpe. Thomas. You tried to let that glide off of you as water slid off a duck. Yet that tiny drop of water would remain. You let yourself talk out of habit to try to squeeze out that little drop of doubt.
“You must write to mother and father. Let them know you’re alive!” you cried.
“Oh, I will. No doubt father will be infuriated.”
“He and Mother will be more glad you’re alive more than anything! But Lottie…you said your life. You seemed to do well for yourself!”
“And I’ve been happier than I ever was doing seasons.”
A gentleman with white whiskers walked up to your sister.
“Excuse me, miss, but the interview?” he asked.
Charlotte turned and nodded your head, and then turned back to you.
“I have work to do, I have to leave for now,” she said.
“Promise me you’ll write!” you said.
Charlotte gave a half laugh, and she brought out her little notepad.
“Oh, if my hand hasn’t fallen off from writing articles, I’ll be glad to!”
“And please do visit! We’ll have tea ready,” you said.
She made her promises, gave you one last embrace, and then vanished into the crowd. Though part of you secretly dreaded how much further the smiling at Thomas would continue if she were in your house.
❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖✿❁ ≖≖ ❁
The ball ended late at night. Your feet were weary. And the fear was bubbling inside you. You knew you had to keep it inside you, for you knew it would spoil everything. How did one deal with one’s husband in these matters? One shouldn’t cause an ugly scene at a ball. You knew better. No, you would wait until after.
Both you and Thomas stepped out into the cool night air. It was then that you got into the carriage. You stepped in, and the vehicle began with Thomas inside, too. You heard the driver above crack the whips, and soon the horses were in motion. Thomas was bright and all smiles. Yet you felt your own frown dampen the air. Not that Thomas noticed at first.
That pang of jealousy struck you like lightning.
.
“Oh, yes.Thomas…yes, she did. You seemed very happy to see her…” You began.
Thomas tilted his head as he looked at you. His eyes squinted a little, then he dropped his mouth a little.
“Darling….darling, I-”
“You love her! Admit it!” The words flew out of you faster than you could stop them. “Admit you love her! Admit you loved her this whole time! And you just settled for me!” Tears were threatening to prick the corner of your eyes.
Thomas put his hands up and touched your arms.
“No…No-no! My dear, I love Charlotte only as a friend! I’m not- I-I don’t- It’s not Lottie I love like…like…”
He pulled you into his arms for an embrace. You let yourself indulge in a little weeping. He shushed you and patted your back softly.
“You…you truly don’t! Oh- Oh, Thomas! I’m so stupid! I-I should have been wiser! I-I just get jealous and jump to conclusions,” you said.
“Besides, would you like to know who I actually love?” he asked with a smile.
“Who?” you sniffled.
You released the embrace. But then he gently cupped your face with both of his hands.
“My dear, you occupy my mind more often than not…and I miss you when you’re not there. And the more I see of you, the greedier I become.”
“Oh…oh, Thomas,” you sighed, feeling a rush of warmth through yourself as he spoke.
“I’m falling for you. I’m truly falling for you, and it’s frightening, and yet I’ve never felt more alive-because you make me feel alive,” he said.
At once, your lips crashed together. A wild toss of lips and touches. You ran a hand through his hair. He cupped your face and kissed you again. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his erection through his pants nudge against you.
“Thomas…Thomas…” you kept muttering.
“I…I need you. Now. I need to make love to my wife,” he growled.
You then nodded. His hands lifted your skirts. He felt your bare legs above your stockings and felt the flesh. You were held tight, pressed at once against him. Feeling already so close, so willing- it gave you gooseflesh to think of it.
You then kept lifting your skirts as he hurriedly sneaked his hands down and quickly undid his pants.
“Thomas- oh-oh Thomas.”
He then half lifted you and set you on him. You felt him break inside you, and you moaned- feeling full. You began to move with a fury. He leaned a little back and said nothing as he kept moving inside you. You rode him out, letting your head lean back as a sound of pleasure escaped you.
“Keep going, for God’s sake, keep going-” he pleaded.
You let out various sounds. Thomas kept letting our pants and held tight. You moved in tandem, his hips slamming into yours. The rocking and rolling of the carriage only pushing the movement further.
“Yes…Yes, Thomas-Thomas I-oh God, Thomas!” you kept muttering.
He slipped his hand in there, finding your spot.
“I’m…I’m close, close my darling, and I’m going to take you with me. I want you to cry out so that they hear you, so they hear who makes you come,” he grunted.
He fiddled with you, and you gasped, feeling the pinprick of pleasure. He kept moving that special spot, and you kept buckling him further.
It soon reached a fever pitch; his hand kept fiddling, and your hips kept slamming violently.
“Come, come, my darling, yes- come-” he urged.
Soon enough, pleasure broke on both of you. Thomas let out a choked gasp, and you let out a whimper. You felt his seed shoot up inside, and you took it obediently. He held onto you with trembling arms as he caught his breath, his hair and eyes wild from the freedom of ecstasy allotted to both of you for their brief moment in time.
The carriage soon stopped. You hurriedly fixed your clothes. Though the odd smell of sex still lingered a little in that carriage. Thomas helped you out, then kissed you and helped you inside on your wobbly legs. Though both of you were all blushes and smiles.
As you entered the main entryway, a servant came forward bearing only one letter.
“Telegram, sir, they said it was urgent,” he reported.
Thomas ripped the envelope open. Once he read the contents inside, his face turned pale. His hand lowered with the message still inside.
“What is it?” you asked.
He didn’t turn his back on you. What would put him in this state?
“There’s been a new discovery on the clay mines back home.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you said.
When he turned around, the look on his face begged to differ.
“I…I have to go back to my family home, to Allerdale hall.”
good LAWD we're being fed so well this year. we're starting off 2026 with a heaping dose of Jonathan Pine…and we already know that we're ending the year with Loki. and who knows what's in store for us in between (there's at least one documentary series, we know that…)
