Science-fiction/romance, a double-whammy of the "genre fiction" that raises so many distasteful eyebrows in Ivy League writing classes, is fun. Really. Lots of fun. And so very easy to write (maybe, possibly, because I've had so much damned practice writing fanfic *blush*) that I just saved myself from having to fake my own death to get out of turning in a final project in my Intermediate Fiction class.
But seriously. In my outline for the rest of this story (thankfully, my TA gave me dispensation to turn in an incomplete story since she thinks I'm fictionally cool), I have "armageddon" as a plot point. AND it's not even the last plot point of the story!! I admit, I sort of got that idea from the "adult swim" cue cards on the Cartoon Network that my partner-in-procrastinatory-crime (aka my flatmate, keenween, who isn't actually procrastinating himself, so I suppose he's my procrastination enabler rather than my partner), the one where the viewers are paradoxically advised to time-travel into the future in order to find a time machine and, somewhere in the middle of the Map Of The Future, before the destination, is armageddon. Hey, I take my inspiration where I can find it, so shut up.
So, yeah, in a story *for class* I have a dude in stasis, a mysterious futuristic war, sex, shaaaameless romance, and armageddon. When I told my mother this on the phone, her reaction was "Oooh! Finish it and give it to me for Christmas!" I come by my oddity honestly.
In other news, redbeard is the bestest (and geekiest) big brother ever, and may possibly set me up with a real, honest-to-goodness *website* soon, where I can actually post the ridiculous story detailed above, along with other stories. I'm approaching a new phase of shamelessness in my life; consider yourselves warned.
-- Little Red, who prays to heck that her tentative attempts at html in this post don't do any exploding