tenative return, and fic dump and all that

So, I am trying to make a triumphant comeback to the LJ world, after many many months away. ('No, no, coming back now has nothing to do with upcoming qualifying exams and a near terminal need to procrastinate!' she said shiftily.)  I have been trying to get myself to post for a while, but every time I do I kept getting utterly defeated by the fact that I suck, a lot, at making anything on LJ post correctly. I have been laboring quietly over a picspam of Amanda Palmer and Leathermouth and MSI for an embarrasingly long time. I've... I've decided to give up. The pictures come out all terribly sized and it's enormously frustrating, and then, like there is some kind of malicious demon at work, they teleport all over the LJ page and I am just not capable of this kind of turmoil any longer. But in conclusion: Amanda Palmer is the most beautiful person I have ever had the fortune of seeing in person. Motherfucking christ. Okay, I'll try to post one picture. I KNOW IT WILL BE TERRIBLY SIZED. I JUST KNOW IT.



WHY ARE YOU SO TINY, AMANDA. Oh, well. See the hotness? Does it not make you want to expire with joy?

Anyway. How's spring going? The snow just melted here, but it's still very grey and muddy, and I can't wait for things to look green and alive again. Also I may fail out of grad school. And become a bookkeeper. It's a thought.

Fic: To Timbuktu (And Back Again)

And lo, after a dry spell that spanned months, I finally write some fic, and I suspect it is not fic that any of you are interested in! Whoops. What can I say, I am a sucker for rare fandoms. And Napoleonic Europe. And dragons. And awkward epic pining gay love affairs. But never fear, I will return to bandom shortly. The ghostfic is being a bitch, but it is coming along. Also, apparently I am a loser and I CAN post pictures, so you should expect an epic picspam shortly. Ish.

On with the dragons! And gay love!

Title: To Timbuktu (And Back Again)
Fandom: His Majesty's Dragon
Author: novembersmith
Pairing/Rating: Laurence/Tharkay, PG-13ish?
Words: 5700
Disclaimer: Naomi Novik owns these characters, and also my undying gratitude for creating the most fantastic world ever and being generally awesome.
Summary: In which Arkady manages to be a great nuisance, despite never appearing in the story, and Tharkay is thoroughly unsettled.

AN and Warnings: This is a post-Victory of Eagles story, so there are probably spoilers within for the entire series. This story is essentially a giant pile of fluff. I finished VoE and was rending my breast and so forth, and then I decided to be proactive about it. The title is from the musical Oliver, and, if you're interested, the pistols in this story are largely inspired by this vision of loveliness--just picture it as a flintlock instead of a multishot revolver, and a great deal sparklier, and you have it. (And this is totally off-topic, but God, the Arms and Armor exhibit at the Met gives me such a nerdgasm, seriously. Merlin fans! Get thee hence! THERE ARE SUITS OF ARMOR.)

I'd also like to extend enormous thanks to my betas, applegnat and wilhelmina_d, who looked this over and pointed out egregious errors and made this fic infinitely better than it would have been otherwise. They are awesome, and any errors are my own. Feel free to point them out, or engage me in a discussion about 19th century history and colonialism! Mmm, history. <3


( would you lace my shoe? paint your face bright blue? catch a kangaroo? go to timbuktu? )