And now, a writing wank

I bitch a lot about plots, and lack thereof, but recently I've decided that isn't what I really mean.

( Ramble, ramble, ramble... )

Teh horror, teh horror...

I'm rereading my Juvenalia Epic of DOOM. Large chunks of this hold up surprisingly well--then we hit some gratuitous shirt removal. I miss my hot fantasy boys sometimes. The hottest, at least, safely fled to TDC and TBP.

I wish this story was salvageable, but alas. And I think Isyllt would murder me in my sleep if I tried to send her back to the world where she's 19, with no awesome necromantic powers, government expense account, or black leather.