Adventures in writing.

I have been listening to too much HP Lovecraft.
I found myself with an atlas, plotting out exactly where Innsmouth and Arkham were on the map of Massachusetts.

And then I found myself, on a gorgeous fall morning in the Lower Miskatonic Valley, helping Corin and Cian open a tea shop in Arkham.

Or as Corin growled, "Have you finally gone senile, elf? We're fighting evil from a tea shop? Not even a tea shop but a Tea Shoppe." He pronounced the extra p and e with scorn.

And there was gay merman sex... This frightens me.