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Having just come from church, I am now cleansed of the evil sins I committed this weekend (mostly, for the moment--my mind will probably never be clean again. For the rest of my life, I will think sinful thoughts about inanimate objects).
It won't last. No, it won't. For one thing, my sister just emailed me, and she's so good at encouraging evil that she really ought to be a slash fangirl. I predict that I have received more pictures of Air Force cadets in various stages of undress (ex: "This is my flight leader doing a victory dance in his boxers after the Army/Air Force game," "this is my flight leader dressed up as batman," "this is my squadron-mate and his date at the Fall Ball--note her make-up, setting: whore," "this is my roommate and me in matching USAFA T-shirts," ect.). Plus, she cusses more than Agent Sands (I really must introduce her to the word "fuckmook," she'd love it).
One thing about teh eeeeviill, though--the hyper, cracked-out state of mind being exposed to it produces promotes creativity. I am now half-way through![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sidhe_elf's yellow fever fic, and I've plotted out the first section of Spinner of Maelstroms and done a vague outline for the rest of it. Even though I kept being distracted from serious thought by insidious Mael One-Eye/the Maelstrom thoughts (make love to your ship, Mael. Swab her decks! Raise her anchor! Hoist the mainsail!) and attendant musings on the dirtier possibilities inherent in the whole "blood-bound captain" concept.
It won't last. No, it won't. For one thing, my sister just emailed me, and she's so good at encouraging evil that she really ought to be a slash fangirl. I predict that I have received more pictures of Air Force cadets in various stages of undress (ex: "This is my flight leader doing a victory dance in his boxers after the Army/Air Force game," "this is my flight leader dressed up as batman," "this is my squadron-mate and his date at the Fall Ball--note her make-up, setting: whore," "this is my roommate and me in matching USAFA T-shirts," ect.). Plus, she cusses more than Agent Sands (I really must introduce her to the word "fuckmook," she'd love it).
One thing about teh eeeeviill, though--the hyper, cracked-out state of mind being exposed to it produces promotes creativity. I am now half-way through
sidhe_elf's yellow fever fic, and I've plotted out the first section of Spinner of Maelstroms and done a vague outline for the rest of it. Even though I kept being distracted from serious thought by insidious Mael One-Eye/the Maelstrom thoughts (make love to your ship, Mael. Swab her decks! Raise her anchor! Hoist the mainsail!) and attendant musings on the dirtier possibilities inherent in the whole "blood-bound captain" concept.
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