The whole gang made it out to pride this year and what better way to celebrate queer joy than with a proposal? Baz planned the entire thing, including the amazing speech he promptly forgot in the thrill of the moment. That's okay. Simon said yes before Baz could even get any words out anyway.
(Close-ups of details below the cut because I am SO proud of everything I made!)
Yes, Simon's overalls have functional buckles and a functional front pocket on the bib. Baz sports real pockets, as well as a magnet in his hand that allows him to hold the tiny ring box with the gold band. (It has a magnet at the base!)
I painstakingly hand-sewed every sequin on Shep's jacket, Niamh's got a functional sports bra under her tee and a functional rainbow belt, and I commissioned Agatha's top since mini-crochet is one of the few skills I have not picked up yet.
Happy Pride, y'all! May it be filled with friends, found family, and love.
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As of December 2025, bots have also left guest comments harassing users by:
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I’ve been slowly working on illustrating my own Tarot deck about black cats.
I have a long way to go, but I’m nearly done with the major arcana.
Here are some of my favorites:
I set myself a design challenge (as I often do). I wanted to limit the color palette and the brush styles to create a very consistent look.
And since each card focuses on black cats, it forces me to think deeply about symbolism and design to make sure the meaning of each card is clear and each design is unique.
But there’s still a lot of variety coming through. It’s not all class, or all silliness - just like cats
I have a forearm tattoo of the cats in this one ☝️
I’m so happy with how both of these two managed to feel dark, but adorable at the same time.
And then there’s this one absolute diva:
Most of these used my own feline friends for reference.
There are more but I don’t know yet how many I want to share online. If I can actually complete the entire deck I would love to have it made. But I have a ways to go, so for now I continue to chip away, one card at a time.
I saw this TikTok, thought, “SIMON” and anyways. Here we go again.
A Face Full of Cake
General, Lady Ruth & Simon Snow, Slight Angst, Fluff, Cake and Fluff
It’s been two years since I last saw my Lucy, and one year since I woke up in the dead of night to the sound of a distant bell that almost sounded like my kitchen timer.
So I did what I always do when faced with the vague inkling of some distant stress:
I baked.
One cake, and then two. Three. More. Until I’d covered every flat surface on the ground floor of my house in frosted sponge.
The next day I sent Jamie off with as many as he could carry (three, one in each arm and one balanced on his head). When I tried to send home a fourth with his wife she shook her head and suggested I find a place to donate the rest.
That’s why I’m here, at this care home. It’s one of many which takes whatever I bring, and I like to go a bit nutty with the decorations. When was the last time these boys had cake baked with love and decorated with enough buttercream dinosaurs to send them into a sugar coma?
One of my favorite volunteers, Mary, answers the door with a feigned sigh. “Have you baked all of London out of sugar yet, Ruth?”
But it’s hard for me to joke along today; I have nearly baked myself crazy, twice as much as normal, and all with one eye on the calendar.
Two years ago today.
I must be more transparent than the plastic carrying cases which contain my homemade desserts.
“Would you like to come in?” Mary offers. “It’s perfect timing. We were hoping to do a cake smash for one of the boys. Today’s his first birthday, we think.”
The ‘we think’ twists my heart; it hurts to think this child may never know his actual birthday. “I’d love to,” I say, following Mary into the home. “But what’s a cake smash?”
She chuckles. “You’re in for a treat. Especially since this will be Simon’s first sweet, that we know of.”
“Simon,” I smile, “that’s a lovely name.”
When we enter the dining room there’s a few boys gathered ‘round. One other worker. I’ve only brought in two cakes but one is smaller than the rest so I place it on the tray next to a high chair and set the other on the table.
“Here’s the birthday boy,” someone says walking into the room, bouncing a chubby-cheeked toddler with curly, blond hair.
Just like my Lucy.
I’ve never believed in love at first sight but when this child turns his big, blue eyes on me I know he’s meant to be mine, somehow.
I blink away the tears threatening to fall.
As the room’s occupants sing an off-pitch rendition of “Happy Birthday,” Simon stares back at me. Like he feels it too.
Or maybe he’s just a baby. Babies stare; I shouldn’t read into it.
“Would you like to do the honors?” Mary asks.
With a nod, I walk over to where Simon’s sat in his high chair and pull off the plastic lid to reveal a cake nearly the same color as Simon’s eyes, decorated with a red lumpy dragon.
Simon tilts his head to one side and I can almost hear him asking, “For me?”
I push the plate closer to him. “All yours, love.”
His chubby hands clench in fists on either side of the cake. He opens them, then closes them, then circles his arms around the dessert.
His eyes widen in disbelief. He smashes his face right into the frosting.
I snap my head over to Mary who’s barely holding back laughter, her eyes twinkling.
Smash cake. I get it now.
With his arms wrapping around the cake, Simon brings it closer to him like one might give a hug. All the while he opens his eyes wide and his mouth wider, falling onto the cake like he could eat it with his whole face.
“Simon,” Mary finally releases her laughter, leaning forward to pull frosting out of his nostrils.
It doesn’t deter his actions; in fact, I think it encourages him.
He face-plants into the cake once more.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear a bell ringing. It sounds familiar.
I sign the foster paperwork that night.
It’s a month or so before I can bring Simon home. Jamie thinks I’m crazy.
“What will you do with a toddler, mum? You’re so old.”
But I have magic, I have love. I have a network of friends and my son to help.
And, okay, it’s not exactly the most important part of a growing boy’s diet, but I have a cake for Simon every year. All different designs though he’s got a soft spot for dragons. And every year I show a picture I snapped on my phone of Simon covered in frosting during that first cake smash.
And every year Simon lets me take another. He never minds posing for it; says it’s the first tradition he’s ever had.
“One day I’ll take this photo at your wedding,” I tell him, the first time he brings a boy home.
“Muuuum,” he whines, keeping his big, blue eyes anywhere but on the gray ones that belong to someone Simon insists is, ‘just a friend.’
Simon Snow was five years old when he first lifted my husband’s Excalibur and one day I’ll tell him what that means. But for now I’ll let him enjoy his sixteenth birthday, the stolen glances from his first love, and, as always, a face full of cake.
*gently cups your face* it’s okay if you can’t finish that project before the year is over. You can continue the next year. Your effort doesn’t lose value just because of some numbers on a calendar. Keep going. Take breaks. You got all the time in the world. I love you.
saw an elderly woman walking around with a tote bag whose design were the four AO3 fic category squares and she very excitedly asked if i was a reader or a writer bcs nobody else at the con had recognized it, and after telling her that i've been writing fic since fanfic.net, she solemnly nodded and explained that she'd been reading fic since "the days of personal websites" but that she only started writing fanfic when she was 47 and oh my god when i tell you that i genuinely teared up on the spot!!!!! like!!! HELL YEAH???? LITERALLY NEVER TOO OLD TO START WRITING. NEVER TOO OLD TO WRITE AND SHARE YOUR FIC.
her enthusiastic "i'm a very nice and bubbly person, i swear! but i love writing angst and major character death :)" nearly took me the fuck out.
icon. legend. diva. i wish her nothing but a kajillion million comments and kudos. i hope her fic updates crash AO3. i hope she knows i'm promoting her to my personal patron saint of AO3.
Reblogging again cause I tried this site last night and if you need background noise to focus this is perfect for that, I was locked the fuck in on a task. And it’s also just gorgeous to listen to
As the year is ending soon... this is your friendly reminder that you didn’t waste your year. any moments of happiness or comfort, any small accomplishments, they all matter. this has been a really hard year, and simply surviving is something to be proud of. 🤎
Mostly a bear of very little brain @youarenevertooold - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag