dean - angel dusted soul

Here's a sigh to those who love me, and a smile to those who hate

and whatever sky's above me, here's a heart for every fate

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In which I am the unstoppable force, and this goddamn f*$&king fic is the immovable object
interrupted, dean - noms
secondplatypus
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)

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YES
My brain seems to be under the impression that the best activity for two naked men to engage in is scrabble, and has shut my vocabulary generator down out of spite.
Writing porn is hard enough to begin with, what with the relative lack of suitable non-ridiculous words. Without my trusty head-thesaurus, its next to impossible.

To be fair, I know why my brain is doing this to me.
It's used to having Dean be the Winchester paired with Castiel, and throwing Sam in the mix has made it go "LOL WUT? I DON'T THINK SO."

Yes, there is nothing better for two naked men to be doing than playing scrabble, or possibly folding sheets. Any attempt at anything else will end in embarrassment and failure! /o\

Ah, the hunt for non-ridiculous words, and then realising you've run out and start wondering whether it's better to repeat some of those words or sneak in a few of the slightly-less ridiculous ones, OH THE HUMANITY!

But I see you accomplished the fic and the porn was very delicious indeed, so I feel like I should applaud you or in some way shower you with success!confetti.

*showers you with success!confetti*

I'm convinced at this point that my writing style is one of the Devil's more insidious works. I eat up all the really good words within a paragraph, and spend the rest of the time banging my head against the keyboard.

I'm really obsessive about language, and hate repeating distinctive words (I even get weird about using conjunctions too much), which makes that temptation to just take the easy way out and sneak a word in twice even worse.

So often, I resort to opening and re-opening a thesaurus over and over again in the hopes that a new word that flawlessly suits my purposes will magically appear out of thin air. The success rate of this technique is, unfortunately, very low.

Thank you so much, darling. You're one of my favorite writers, and praise from you is like the bestest cookie in the whole wide world.
*dances in the confetti*

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