Taste of Home (32807 words) byGO READ THIS RIGHT NOW. It's long and plotty and thoughtful and full of pure, uncut awesome. *flails*daroos, rated G, no warnings, The Avengers/Welcome to Night Vale fusion.
Summary: Phil Coulson grew up in Night Vale. Somehow SHIELD is both more terrifying and easier to survive than his childhood home.
I wrote a thing! Yay!
Title: Taste the Rainbow
Pairing: Carolina/Cecilia (Rule 63 Carlos/Cecil)
Word Count: 3,335
Rating/Warnings: Explicit. Contains sentient tattoos, secondary appendages, sort-of tentacles?
Notes: Kink meme fill for Rule 63 Carlos/Cecil + tentacles. I love the community fanon that Cecil is covered with moving tattoos, and I decided to play with that a bit. And then it just kind of... well, you'll see.
Completely unbeta'd, because I just wanted to get it out there before I lost my nerve.
Summary: Cecilia isn't like any other woman Carolina's been with.
Read at AO3
Title: Taste the Rainbow
Pairing: Carolina/Cecilia (Rule 63 Carlos/Cecil)
Word Count: 3,335
Rating/Warnings: Explicit. Contains sentient tattoos, secondary appendages, sort-of tentacles?
Notes: Kink meme fill for Rule 63 Carlos/Cecil + tentacles. I love the community fanon that Cecil is covered with moving tattoos, and I decided to play with that a bit. And then it just kind of... well, you'll see.
Completely unbeta'd, because I just wanted to get it out there before I lost my nerve.
Summary: Cecilia isn't like any other woman Carolina's been with.
Read at AO3
DO NOT APPROACH THE DOG PARK
Aug. 3rd, 2013 01:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azurelunatic summed up Welcome to Night Vale quite well:Lovecraft was "you cannot look upon this alien geometry or you will go mad"; Night Vale is "and if you find yourself disturbed by the geometry, the clinic is open from 3 to 7 weekdays, 11 to 5 Saturday, closed on Sunday."(via
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
metaquotes, here)
NO SLEEP TILL RESEARCH PROPOSAL WOO!
Jul. 5th, 2013 02:17 amDo you ever have a conversation with someone where you touch on various topics, and it's a really good and thorough talk, and you feel good after having it, and then you get an e-mail from that person and it's like that talk never happened? And it feels like maybe, just maybe, the conversation you had was with some alternate version of that person, because nobody could forget everything you talked about that quickly, unless it actually wasn't them you talked about it with?
This ramble brought to you by late-night school writing, and possibly too much Night Vale Radio listening. Last night I dreamt I was a Rule #63 version of Cecil, and when I woke up, my heart ached from the ferocity of my feelings for Carla, perfect Carla with the perfect hair, who smelled of lavender chewing gum and who sat with me on the hood of my car, our fingertips touching as we looked up at the lights above the Arby's...
And then I woke up and it was hot and sticky and miserable and not at all like the dry desert heat in my dream. And then I had a couple of hours of panic when I thought I'd lost my ID card, which would have been very double plus ungood, but then I realized that the last time I used it was when I went to the reading room at the library, so I high-tailed it over there and thankfully they hadn't gotten around to putting it in the mail to send to the address on it, so YAY.
Now I just have to finish this stupid research proposal, which is proving to be more trouble than I suspect it'll be worth. But apparently I've become so set in my ways that the night before it's due is the perfect time to be writing it, even though I spent a good part of last week sitting there thinking "I should be working on the proposal, I should be working on the proposal" and getting exactly jack shit done on it. This does not bode well for when/if I get into grad school and have an actual MA thesis to write. /o\
This ramble brought to you by late-night school writing, and possibly too much Night Vale Radio listening. Last night I dreamt I was a Rule #63 version of Cecil, and when I woke up, my heart ached from the ferocity of my feelings for Carla, perfect Carla with the perfect hair, who smelled of lavender chewing gum and who sat with me on the hood of my car, our fingertips touching as we looked up at the lights above the Arby's...
And then I woke up and it was hot and sticky and miserable and not at all like the dry desert heat in my dream. And then I had a couple of hours of panic when I thought I'd lost my ID card, which would have been very double plus ungood, but then I realized that the last time I used it was when I went to the reading room at the library, so I high-tailed it over there and thankfully they hadn't gotten around to putting it in the mail to send to the address on it, so YAY.
Now I just have to finish this stupid research proposal, which is proving to be more trouble than I suspect it'll be worth. But apparently I've become so set in my ways that the night before it's due is the perfect time to be writing it, even though I spent a good part of last week sitting there thinking "I should be working on the proposal, I should be working on the proposal" and getting exactly jack shit done on it. This does not bode well for when/if I get into grad school and have an actual MA thesis to write. /o\