chiropteracupola

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Forced Franciscan tonsurization Saturday or something

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sleep sleep sleep

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whenever i eat a fruit salad it makes me feel like im someone's pet lizard and its my birthday

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welcome to my blog im annoying

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I would LOVE to hear about assorted flintlock fortress and kissing the homies 2: bro hookup

FLINTLOCK FORTRESSSSSS!! because we haven't talked about this one in a while I shall give it a reintroduction -- this is @dxppercxdxver's and my yearslong project of putting the team fortress men in the 1770s-1790s and seeing what they do. so far this has included such fun activities such as 'we give everyone smallpox.' anyway here's our engineer heading north in search of his favorite seditious pamphleteer.

“I can fix that, if you’ll give me a hand.” “Think you can? Well, have at it, then,” said the carter, and Daniel Conagher knelt in the rutted road and put his hand to the stuck wheel. Not a broken axle, or a spoke put awry, but something in the mechanism gone wrong, something splintered and needing replacement. That was well enough — Daniel had mended wagons before, and with the carter there to be another hand to him, they two were hauling up the wagon from the ditch where it had lain slanted. “Turnabout’s fair play,” said the carter, swiping away sweat from beneath his hat. “I can’t pay you, but I can take you as far as Wilmington, if you’re going north by this road.” And he stretched out his hand to Daniel, and Daniel took it, and sat beside the carter on the bench as the road rolled on through forest and fen and farmland, up toward the city. Wilmington was a fine fair city, and Daniel found work soon enough, as clever young men often do in port towns. But the docks smelled of turpentine, barrels upon barrels of it, and with every surface he touched, his hand grew sticky with pitch and his clothing stained with tar. Besides, there was no work of the kind he wanted to do — no small things he might tinker and fiddle with, no type to set and no wheels to grease. At least there were the pamphlets, still — always with the little black unicorn stamped above the title, and always written in a way that made him want to jump up, and run, run, down the line of every word, until he found who it was at the end. It would be a long road yet before Daniel Conagher knew who had set the type and who had held the pen.

kissing the homies 2 is a sequel to a sharpe fic I've not yet finished, the entirety of which is likely going to be harris and cooper having bad mutually unsatisfying sex. and also harris wearing a dress.

“Well, if you wish it,” said Harris, a crooked smirk beginning to play about his mouth, and he took a deep drink from the flask still in his hand before he shoved it into Cooper’s hands. It was so sudden a movement that Cooper nearly dropped it, and would have wasted the rather soured rum for his clumsiness, if it were not for Perkins reaching to steady him. But he was looking up again, not paying attention to anything other than the sight of Harris with his hands all full of skirt, so that his hems were raised nearly to his knees.

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historical fiction is such a funny genre like dammit i spoiled the ending of les mis for myself by reading the wikipedia page for the paris uprising of 1832

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crawling out of the academic writing mines to post about non academic writings... good pal @quatregats has kindly tagged me in the wip title game, the rules of which are as follows:

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

things I have actually worked on relatively recently will be marked with an asterisk. let the list of a thousand wips begin.

flight of the heron:

tam lin au

ladyhawke au

to keep it real

worms time*

french vacation / a season in exile

green knight

winter birds*

tea au?

first snowfall / so it will be again, again*

sharpe et al.

soldier's lass

wolf run free*

ladyhawke au 2

kissing the homies goodnight

harris's totally excellent amateur theatricals

sharpe and strange*

babygirl you're coolawesome

seville oranges &c

waterloo 2 / causeway*

kissing the homies 2: bro hookup*

kidnapped

uh oh lads it's alan breck again

alan just happens so much

wood-god

boys get a little fancy

the low road

other

chichester visiting (hornblower)

hornblower animorphs crossover

crawling (hornblower)

cable tier (hornblower)*

werewolf montjoy (h5)*

two magicians / she became the salt sea air (potc)

tunnel time (the great escape)

assorted flintlock fortress (tf2)

fun for boys with scalpel! / knifeplay story (the body snatcher)

temeraire au (h5)

doublecast au (h5)

a fire-breather of hispania (the eagle of the ninth)

laurence :( (temeraire)

whose woods these are (h5) *

not fic as such

blood of the ash-tree

mothycompass*

mothycompass matthew focus

hist336 - [em cupola] - research essay draft*

and I shall tag... @bluebstopcat, @dxppercxdxver, @baronetcoins, and anyone else who'd like to share?

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View of an advertising card for F.E. Smallidge, depicting a young woman reading a ghost story by candelight. Printed on back [in part]: "The ghost story! The moral of this, the sixteenth card of our series, is that, if young ladies would avoid creating a scene, similar to the one the artist, Mr. R.W. Buss, gives us in this admirable picture, they had better forego reading ghost stories at bed-time. Presented by F.E. Smallidge, 701 Jefferson Avenue, Detroit, Mich. The Major & Knapp Lith. Co., N.Y." Includes description of Dr. Jayne's Tonic Vermifuge and Dr. Jayne's Sanative Pills.

Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library

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figure 1: burial of a princess with grave goods indicative of her station

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feeling fish emotions today

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*eating a ploughmans lunch* so, how long until it kicks in?

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It’s finals time

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Raptors, Fossils, Fins & Fangs: A Prehistoric Creature Feature

Book by Bradford Matsen and Ray Troll

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*ruins your Christmas feast by doing Mythbusters ballistics shit to your beautiful glazed ham*

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applying for the position of your good luck charm that's kept in your pocket and looked at adoringly