#i'm psyched

[shes-beauty-shes-ace]

I just bought tickets for 3 concerts

[anime-to-the-t]

Appa by Aimie Ferreira

[breeding-princess]

God DAMN when the fuck did this happen???????

[shmreduplication]

Seeing a drag show parody of The Nanny tonight which is nigh an insane concept. Fran Fine is already parodying womanhood thru exaggeration, particularly of the hair+makeup+fashion aspects of it all

How could a professional drag queen have bigger hair? Lower necklines? Higher skirt hems? Louder patterns? More makeup? Fran Fine already did it all!

[chattnoirr]

Yesssss Miraculous World is finally on Disney+!!

[captainofthetidesbreath]

Campaign 2: Oops, all wizards!

Campaign 3: Oops, all fighters!

[corgiteatime]

In a very on brand moment for us as a couple, my husband informed me that he won a sword in a charity raffle and it will be arriving in the mail this week.

[orchidscript]

Excerpt: Cold War AU, Ojka

John Le Carré, one of my all time favorite authors and main inspiration for this bit of fanfic, died yesterday and I can’t keep anything to myself ever. So please enjoy some more Cold War Ojka Dimov and Holland Vosijk. (Yes I have given Ojka a last name because she needed one and reasons; I’ve been spending a lot of time on her backstory in this fic and it’s making me very very happy.)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor before turning into the expanse of desks in their section. Familiar, thundering, agitated footfalls. She suppresses a sigh of relief, an odd smile, as Holland Vosijk approached his office door.

“Dimov,” He barked, serious as ever. “With me. Now.”

Without another word, Ojka stood and fell into step after him, pencil and paper in hand. She followed quickly, shutting the door behind her. She locked it for safety’s sake and waited for her next order. It never came.

“What’s that in your hands?” Holland asked sternly. He pulled his suit jacket from his shoulders, dropped over the back of his desk chair, and rolled up his sleeves. Some of the hardness in his eyes lessened as he looked her over.

Ojka looked down. She winced. “A… A chessboard. Sir.”

Holland hummed lightly, gesturing for her to sit. “You play?”

“Sometimes,” Ojka answered, hesitating a moment before asking: “Do you?”

“Not well, but I know the basics. My brother tried to teach me with no luck.” Holland held out a hand for her page and she gave it to him. He sat down, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs high in the thigh as he examined the paper. “Why are you playing pretend chess at work, Ojka?”

“It’s an anxious habit,” she admitted quietly. There was no reason for her to keep that a secret. There was no reason for her to keep secrets from him anymore. He held her life in his hands alongside his own. “It started in my teenage years and I’ve never quite shaken it.”

“Why do you do it?”

She exhaled, itching to ask him about his meeting. She keeps the urge down for another minute. “It helps keep my head clear. I walk through every possible outcome so I can see the clearest path forward. It’s a game and an organizer.”

“Sounds beneficial enough,” Holland nodded in approval. “Were you taught by an expert?”

“No. Why?”

“I’ve never seen moves like these.”

“They’re from a manual I have, I don’t suppose you would know them if you don’t play often or well.” Ojka snaps her mouth shut, pressing her lips tightly together. She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to three, hoping Holland would forgive the error. “Holland, sir, I didn’t mean--.”

“Stop.” The older man waved her off. He leaned forward, placing the paper between them and handing her his pen. “Show me.”

Ojka took the pen, weighing it in her hand. She stared at him in confusion. “I thought you disliked games, Holland.”

“Only when I cannot understand them or control them,” he answered simply.

“Not if you can’t win them?”

Holland shrugged. “I’ve come to understand that winning isn’t everything. And it seems there’s much here that I haven’t considered and should know. If you would be kind enough to explain it to a commoner like me, Ojka.”

“I didn’t --.” 

Her voice cut off at the tilt of his chin, the softness in his eyes. For a fleeting moment he didn’t look like a worn down servant to the Fortress, but someone younger. Someone still curious and interested. Someone who didn’t live with a decade or more of jaded thoughts wrapped around his shoulders. Holland wasn’t making light of her accidental sleight. He was deferring to her. It was the closest thing to trust she imagined he was capable of.

She let out a slow breath and nodded to herself. She pulled her chair closer to the desk, picking a play at random. “Yes sir. Let’s start here.”