In which I am the unstoppable force, and this goddamn f*$&king fic is the immovable object
Every now and again, I'm plagued by a fic that absolutely does not want to be written, under any circumstances (the most notable example thus far being the four thousand word first time Wincest that came into the world kicking and screaming and digging its nasty little heels in with all its might).
It seems that, over the three months of my hiatus, my brain's filth-generator fell into disrepair and is making me pay dearly for the neglect.
I've spent the last day and a half writing 1300 words of intro/setup for a new kink!fic, and yea and verily, the course of plot establishment did run smoothly (the recent pollution of my smut by things that strongly resemble story-lines is an issue for another time).
Then, I got to the porn.
I've spent the last six hours of my life doing battle with this pesky little blighter, and I've got less than 400 words of progress to show for it.
I think this is Sassy's way of exacting vengeance for my lack of faith in the pairing's magnificence, and the resulting lack of attention I've paid to them in my writing.
It seems the Castiel in my head is mighty pissy about the fact that I've let Lucifer spend more time with Sam than him.
Whatever the reason, my thoughts on this situation are as follows:
ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!
I will finish this paragraph tonight, dammit.
I don't care if I have to stay up til sunrise to do it!
(I'm willing to bet that as punishment for my bringing its treachery and obstinacy to light with this entry, said fic will cause my brain to crash and I'll end up staring at my computer screen until my eyes cross without making a single word of progress)
It seems that, over the three months of my hiatus, my brain's filth-generator fell into disrepair and is making me pay dearly for the neglect.
I've spent the last day and a half writing 1300 words of intro/setup for a new kink!fic, and yea and verily, the course of plot establishment did run smoothly (the recent pollution of my smut by things that strongly resemble story-lines is an issue for another time).
Then, I got to the porn.
I've spent the last six hours of my life doing battle with this pesky little blighter, and I've got less than 400 words of progress to show for it.
I think this is Sassy's way of exacting vengeance for my lack of faith in the pairing's magnificence, and the resulting lack of attention I've paid to them in my writing.
It seems the Castiel in my head is mighty pissy about the fact that I've let Lucifer spend more time with Sam than him.
Whatever the reason, my thoughts on this situation are as follows:
ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!
I will finish this paragraph tonight, dammit.
I don't care if I have to stay up til sunrise to do it!
(I'm willing to bet that as punishment for my bringing its treachery and obstinacy to light with this entry, said fic will cause my brain to crash and I'll end up staring at my computer screen until my eyes cross without making a single word of progress)