Yvi

So I'm working on stuff and can't finish anything. Por ejemplo: I started shaking off the pegging fic almost two months ago, then pretty much scrapped it all to start from scratch, then put it back on the shelf, then saw it poking out behind the preserves and decided to check and see if it was still good, and, well...it's not.

Same thing goes for the threesome fic, only that's been on the shelf waaaay longer (I blame that on the writers for making Cameron a whiny hussy just as she was starting to get more interesting). The Cuddy femslash I finally started the other day, but wound up wrinkling my nose at it almost immediately. The massage fic is roughly sketched out and currently contains some satisfactory UST and a handful of bad puns no one but me will find amusing. I actually drafted some Honey/Whitner and don't hate it, but doubt I'll finish it. The Foreman fics are nebulous, which is my fine upstanding way of saying THEY DON'T EXIST LULZ!

Aaaaand I'm still kickin' the uber-long smut-tastic RPs of doom with nakeno. I still find it funny that I was too squeamish to write smut till I was twenty-one and now I'm a painted Jezebel of iniquity.

Which is my fine upstanding way of saying I AM A ONE-NOTE PERV. Working on that, too, really; most of the time, I do go into things with the intention of including a vestige of a plot. The sex just kind of...overshadows it. The way I look at it, I'm a late bloomer newly emerged from baby fat who's still in the "dude, sex is awesome!" stage and can't stop exploring it from every possible angle. I thought I was asexual till I was nineteen, so it's only natural, right?

'm gonna go interrogate some text now. Peace.