That is the sound of my new epic fic breaking the 40,000 words mark. No, it is not finished. Do I hear 50,000? Why yes, I think I do.

Oy to the vey to the OMFG.

I hit a bit of a snag earlier this week but my lovely sparktastic came to the rescue and pulled me out of the wankpit I was writing myself into.

I truly wish I could excerpt something for this post but as I said before, it's just not an excerpt-friendly fic. Here's a piece of my convo with Sparky earlier tonight/this morning that might suffice though:

Sparktastic: <3!
I am reading about vomit
ilu, man

Me: Well, it'd hardly be kidfic if it didn't involve vomit.
Or did I read that definition wrong?

Sparktastic: hahahah
<3

Me: It could be that kidfic makes the READER want to vomit.
I get all mixed up.

So yes. Here there (soon) be kidfic. Consider thyselves forewarned, etc.

ETA: I am being sarcastic, I swear.  I am enamored of most kidfic.  I'm totally easy that way.  I'm just shocked that I've somehow written this much of it.

Well, I suppose it could be worse. Some dogs destroy property when they're alone and bored. My dog decided to find other ways to entertain himself while I was out for about 4 hours this afternoon.

I think this clip of Misha Collins in Nip/Tuck summarizes the problem:



When I got home he was in quite the state, and pretty much, uh, stuck that way. He's done this before but let's just say the problem was somewhat more pronounced than I'd seen.

In any case, with a lukewarm bath, lots of football talk, and half a (small) bottle of KY later, I *ahem* fixed the emerging situation. The things we do for our pets. If he was a human dude he'd owe me dinner right about now.