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Not a hugely productive day and yet... The playroom remains A Blot. If they'd opened every box of toys and scattered them over the floor it still wouldn't, astonishingly, look as bad as it does.
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wesleysgirl and I have started editing the John/Nick story which is fiddly, but fun. I've also done 900 words of chapter three of the Ethan/Jack fic but I'm slightly stalled. I could swap to the threesome one but I seem to be aimlessly surfing instead.
Tomorrow night we're going to a company do at a golf club and then stopping over with the friends who're babysitting the kids while we're out so all four of us can get drunk and party into the night.
Which is all well and good but means I won't be able to watch the final Doctor Who until Sunday night as there's no way I'm watching it with the kids still up and getting interrupted every few minutes. I remain unspoiled and I'm resisting all the sneak previews and lures the BBC are doing, blast their black hearts.
Sunday! ::cries::
I feel as if I say very little of interest these days. Umm. God, nothing is coming to mind at all. I shall invent something.
::deep breath::
Oh wait, hang on: this is true, okay? My aunt's sister got awarded the MBE :;basks in reflected pride::
Amd Wimbledon starts next week. I'd promise to keep the Tim squeeing and (almost) inevitable despair to a minimum but no, you can all suffer with me instead and let that teach you to friend people without finding out what sporting people they're obsessed with ::smiles seraphically::
I feel squeezed dry today. They say everyone has a book in them; how about orgasms? Not actual ones, but written ones. There's only so many ways of describing them and I must have written hundreds. When will I start repeating myself? Did it happen already? :;quivers lip:: Smutted-out... oh noes.
I mean: this is a typical one, snagged at random from a fic of mine:
He came, his hips snapping forward with a brutal speed, collapsing against Spike’s back, biting his shoulder as the last spasm of release left him shuddering and empty.
Not many words there. Three or four verbs that can be varied, swap a few adjectives... I'm going to run out of alternatives before I'm bored of writing smut.
Let's see:
He came(climaxed/found release/saw heaven/orgasmed/touched the face of...no, I don't like that one), his hips snapping (surging/lunging/pushing/shoving/jerking) forward with a brutal(ruthless/relentless/remorseless) speed, collapsing (falling/sprawling) against Spike’s (infinite possibilities here) back(shoulders), kissing his shoulder (back/arm/neck/arse if he's feeling limber) as the last(final/ultimate) spasm(quiver/surge of release, exquisite in its...) left him shuddering (quivering/sobbing/bawling like a baby) and empty.
Empty.
Oh well. I can always ftb.
wesleysgirl and I have started editing the John/Nick story which is fiddly, but fun. I've also done 900 words of chapter three of the Ethan/Jack fic but I'm slightly stalled. I could swap to the threesome one but I seem to be aimlessly surfing instead.Tomorrow night we're going to a company do at a golf club and then stopping over with the friends who're babysitting the kids while we're out so all four of us can get drunk and party into the night.
Which is all well and good but means I won't be able to watch the final Doctor Who until Sunday night as there's no way I'm watching it with the kids still up and getting interrupted every few minutes. I remain unspoiled and I'm resisting all the sneak previews and lures the BBC are doing, blast their black hearts.
Sunday! ::cries::
I feel as if I say very little of interest these days. Umm. God, nothing is coming to mind at all. I shall invent something.
::deep breath::
Oh wait, hang on: this is true, okay? My aunt's sister got awarded the MBE :;basks in reflected pride::
Amd Wimbledon starts next week. I'd promise to keep the Tim squeeing and (almost) inevitable despair to a minimum but no, you can all suffer with me instead and let that teach you to friend people without finding out what sporting people they're obsessed with ::smiles seraphically::
I feel squeezed dry today. They say everyone has a book in them; how about orgasms? Not actual ones, but written ones. There's only so many ways of describing them and I must have written hundreds. When will I start repeating myself? Did it happen already? :;quivers lip:: Smutted-out... oh noes.
I mean: this is a typical one, snagged at random from a fic of mine:
He came, his hips snapping forward with a brutal speed, collapsing against Spike’s back, biting his shoulder as the last spasm of release left him shuddering and empty.
Not many words there. Three or four verbs that can be varied, swap a few adjectives... I'm going to run out of alternatives before I'm bored of writing smut.
Let's see:
He came(climaxed/found release/saw heaven/orgasmed/touched the face of...no, I don't like that one), his hips snapping (surging/lunging/pushing/shoving/jerking) forward with a brutal(ruthless/relentless/remorseless) speed, collapsing (falling/sprawling) against Spike’s (infinite possibilities here) back(shoulders), kissing his shoulder (back/arm/neck/arse if he's feeling limber) as the last(final/ultimate) spasm(quiver/surge of release, exquisite in its...) left him shuddering (quivering/sobbing/bawling like a baby) and empty.
Empty.
Oh well. I can always ftb.