Also evil, also into cats (or, How I Killed My Better Half's Ability To Write. Twice.)

wax_jism and I have both gotten a lot less productive, in terms of writing, since we moved in together. It's only logical, but it still took us a long time to notice. Spending our free time together instead of glued to the computer = less time for writing. And despite the fact that I mock wax for calling writing a private act akin to bodily functions, we both find it difficult/impossible to write while anyone else is in the room, which is unfortunate because our computer setup is like - we can read each other's monitors without moving from our chairs. I'm home more than she is, so I have a lot more time at my disposal for writing, which is probably the most significant reason that I've been like four times as productive as she has in the past couple of years. (Not the only reason! But the biggest.) It's just ironic, you know? Writing was how we met and how we communicated for a long time, despite our different attitudes to number of limbs (I prefer none of them to be amputated), death (I prefer it not in my slash), and the apocalypse (if it's there, I feel like there needs to be a pretty damn good reason for it). It's what we're about, separately, and what we chose to be about by hooking up together.

And despite all that time I don't necessarily understand how writing works for her, and in the process of trying to encourage her and show enthusiasm, I might have crushed the fragile flower of her blossoming mojo, kind of: first by asking specific questions about the science fiction universe she was trying to invent (logic doesn't matter! It's about the post-apocalyptic oppression!) and then by giggling about her post-apocalyptic details (the apocalypse isn't inherently funny, only her passionate love for it is. Her love for the apocalypse and for amputated limbs and for, like, disgusting emergency field medicine is like other people's love for fluffy kittens, or genderswaps, or rentboy aus. Or chocolate!).

Hopefully I didn't do too much damage and we will all get to learn more about this intriguing bunny which mixes a gigantic! endless! post-apocalyptic universe with Panic! At The Disco and also, in supporting roles, Fall Out Boy (I kind of made the :/ face because I finally had to give up and admit that I've run out of Patrick/Pete to read, but I'm so totally not okay with that, and I keep forgetting that I've given up and finding myself thinking every ten minutes "Hey, maybe if I look there will be some more now!" And then comes the crushing sense of defeat as I remember that there really won't, probably, since it's only been ten minutes. However, I can't complain, as I've told her fifteen times in the last two days about my epiphany that Pete makes a better comic relief secondary character than a protagonist).

He hadn't meant to drop that coffee table on his soulmate's foot...

I just read a story that finished with a line about "his soulmate's forehead" (specifically, someone's lips were skimming his soulmate's forehead) and now I think I have been permanently traumatised.

But on the plus side, it reminded me of that whole he went to get the mail, absently noting that the other half of his soul had parked him in again thing, and I reread it, and it was just as funny as it was the first time around.