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sach

@sachart / sachart.tumblr.com

| 24 | UK | she/her | I disappear for months at a time but I WILL return
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If you are a British/UK citizen, there is currently a petition running (with only 125 signatures) that ends in June 2025. The petition calls for the government to make it so that you do not need a diagnosis of gender dysphoria to change your gender.

If you are a British/UK citizen, and would like to sign:

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/701159

If you're not a British/ UK citizen it'd be much appreciated if you could share this post !! :)

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Finding that your art has been reposted is so ??? because on one hand, that's mine and they took it?? and on the other hand, they liked it enough to take it 😊🥰

and I am Not a big creator, I think I have around 500 followers on here? so artists with more than like 5k followers must be in the trenches with this shit

Found someone on twitter reposting my art and naming my account by name but also saying they couldn't find my account anywhere okay okay thanks

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Reblogged

Finding that your art has been reposted is so ??? because on one hand, that's mine and they took it?? and on the other hand, they liked it enough to take it 😊🥰

and I am Not a big creator, I think I have around 500 followers on here? so artists with more than like 5k followers must be in the trenches with this shit

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This is my entry for HBOWarDaily's Secret Santa 2024!

Merry Christmas, @neptunes-blue !❄️❄️❄️

I'm waiting for my Christmas lunch rn but I've just realised I didn't credit @itstheheebiejeebies for the reference!! Thank you!!! You're an angel!!!

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RARELY SOFT OR CONSOLATORY | 4.7K | RATED T

Merry Christmas (Eve), @sachart! I was your Secret Santa <33. I hope you've had a lovely lovely winter and will continue to have happy happy holidays, and truly hope you enjoy this fic. Your art and kindness is an inspiration, and I truly had the loveliest time creating for you :).

Bill used to think more about his brother. The lack of knowledge about his death and only learning from an accident used to keep him up some nights, mulling over a visage of Henry that never received the letters that he’d still written.

However, now, in the frozen black belly of burnt-down France, he can barely think past Joe Toye’s blue-turning-black toes or George Luz’s red-ringed eyes or a dozen other things that stick out sore along the white backdrop. 

(Bill Guarnere, winter during the war, being out of commission, and winter after it. A reflective.)

READ ON AO3 OR BELOW THE CUT
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