Eoin McGonigal (Dónal Finn) in SAS: Rogue Heroes Season 1 Episode 2
One Nice Bug Per Day

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Eoin McGonigal (Dónal Finn) in SAS: Rogue Heroes Season 1 Episode 2

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in this house we donât say âthat character is deadâ. we say âtheyâre wounded but theyâre alive and are on their way towards making a full recovery on archive of our own fix-it ficsâ
Trista Mateer, from a poem featured in her collection titled The Dogs I Have Kissed
most homoerotic moments in sas: rogue heroes (inspired by @captain-cornwall )
Do you have any plans on drawing Paddy and Eoin? I am mesmerised by your art itâs so amazing and classy, obsessed!!!
thank you! i don't have a lot of time/energy to draw at the moment, sadly, but here's an old sketch i never posted

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Dónal Finn in Four Letters of Love (2025)
if that isn't love, it'll have to do
a Buck/Marge/Bucky fic by phlegmatic
---
Part Four
Marge marks it on her wall calendar in red pen below the word Picnic, which has been there for a couple weeks now: Bucky x and 1430, military time likely for Galeâs benefit. Gale blinks at it. Sifting through his memories of their conversations over the past weeks happens coarse and chunky, interrupted by Margeâs pottering. Sheâs making pancakes, reassured him that theyâre still good without any eggs, and the air smells all sugary from the syrup sheâs heating on the stove. He canât remember her mentioning it. Sheâs given him coffee already; he takes a sip, and clears his throat.
âHe, uhâhe cominâ by bus? Or train?â
Marge flips a pancake, and doesnât quite look over her shoulder. Her hair is curled and fluffed out prettily already, though sheâs got her housecoat on, sleeves pushed to her elbows. Sheâs got freckles that she didnât use to; Gale has spent some time inspecting her hands, the new ropiness in her muscles, the blurred line where burnish from the sun turns to protected paleness. She keeps her nails trimmed now, though still painted. Sheâs got callouses. She let him run his touch and his eyes over her arms one afternoon, not asking him why. He wouldnât have had an answer for her if she had. Her hairs are so blonde theyâre invisible, except for the way they shined like silk threads in the sunlight drenching the sitting room. She had received a telegram that day, letting her know that there wasnât work for her at the railroad any more. Her sweet little chin had puckered, but she hadnât criedâjust told him sheâd be going out for a bit, and came back a few hours later smelling like Old Golds and something flowery. Sheâd sat with him on the sofa listening to Benny Goodman, and let him touch her arms.
âBus, he said. Said he wanted to take the scenic route, go on up through New York if he could manage it. I canât imagine him makinâ it out of there alive and on time, but I said to him to send his plans through when he had them sorted.â
âYou talked to him?â
She hums, stirring the syrup. âSent him a letter a few weeks back, and he telegrammed saying I could order a call placed and what time because he didnât know the number for Docâs. Iâve never talked on the telephone long distance before; all the way down in Florida, can you imagine?â She switches the burner off, and turns toward the table with the skillet in hand. Lifting the final pancake onto the plate she has waiting at the edge of the table, she says, âHe sounded fine. Tired, but fine.â Gale hadnât asked. He isnât sure he likes knowing. He can picture John in Florida well enough, and all the reasons he might be tired: scant swimsuits and liquor on the beach, sand sticking to sweat- and seawater-damp skin.
What did he say? Gale wants to ask. Whyâd you invite him? Why didnât you tell me?
Instead, he helps himself to two pancakes. Marge ladles some syrup over the top, and dishes herself the same, and Gale plops some margarine in the middle of his as well. Itâs not quite melted when he takes his first bite.
âMm,â he says, around his mouthful. âPretty good, sweetheart.â They are, considering thereâs no egg in them. Marge makes a noise like sheâs happy having told him so, and he hooks his ankles around hers under the table.
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Some time ago I made a post asking artists to do Bill Fraser and Withers fanart as Tintin and Snowy. Well, with @rosemaryandbrine's help, I put my money where my mouth was and commissioned @peatbogpirate to do just that. This is the incredible result.
CORIN SILVA as SSGT JIM ALMONDS SAS: Rogue Heroes 2.4

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The very soul of Romanticism
MASTERS OF THE AIR Part One | Part Nine
it's god said you're my baby sundaymonday
there HAS to be a reason for this
A Kiss, If You Would #4
A/N : Once again ran away from a WIP that was giving me headaches to write this fluffy little thing <3 A huuuuuuuuge thank you to @eoin-mcgonigal who beta read this and was just the kindest, most thorough sweetheart ever đĽšâ¤ď¸
For the prompt "Kissing them to confess your true feelings" Also on AO3 Masterlist
On December 5th, 1938, Eoin turns eighteen; not old enough to be taken seriously as an adult â not for another three years â but not a bairn anymore. His mother still kisses him on the forehead when he comes down in the kitchen, and his father affectionately pats his cheek as he sits down for breakfast, but he isnât a child in need of protection anymore. Heâs eighteen.Â
So perhaps nothing significant has changed. His body is still as lanky as it was when he went to bed yesterday as a seventeen-year-old. He doesnât feel as though heâs woken up with enlightenment or new knowledge as to how to tread his fresh adulthood. His bedhead is still as ridiculous as when he was a child, and his cheeks still have the softness of a teenâs. But heâs eighteen. He can go to pubs and not have to charm his way into a pint. No more âAre you even allowed to be here?â or fond side eyes when he saddles up at the counter with Ambrose or Blair.
Blair.
SAS : Rogue Heroes - Paddy x Eoin
"You play the piano, Paddy?" "No. Eoin was trying to teach me. I want to carry on."
For @theboyfromcork.

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Eoin McGonigal (Dónal Finn) in SAS: Rogue Heroes Season 1 Episode 1
SAS: Rogue Heroes 2.3