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erastesWas very very ill on Thursday and Friday - and consequently am now about 6K words behind. I can still do this. as long as I do about 2K a day. eep. Everyone else is doing so well, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dubaiyan has finished, eumenides1 is storming along, so is nanovalkyrie. I must... not...fail. I've just got to focus. I do however have a nice MUSEY icon ... *drool* which is dedicated to
petulantgod
GIP
yes - FOCUS!!!! and not procrastinate which is what i've been doing for three hours. Its the bloody research!! I mean - who the fuck is going to care whether or not the Thorn Inn in Mistley is really on the river Stour or not?
ME!!! I just want to get it right, and I'm too obsessive about details. *headdesk* can you believe people? Mistley - namely "The Thorn" public house in that Essex village is where Hopkins and his cronies of murderous bastards hung out, and when you go to that pub's webpage...... NOT A MENTION of it. sheesh.. I give up.
Ok. am going now. Somewhere there is pedestrian tripe in potentia, and it might as well be me wot writes it.
Jonathan's lusts had been razed and torn from him, his body was completely unable to respond to anything that Michael did to him, and at first Jonathan was surprised that Michael was not angry about this, until he learned that it was not his body that made Michael the happiest, it was Jonathan's obedience that aroused him, made him turn to him with eager hands and loving words, tangled with Biblical texts. After a lesson well learned, after however many punishments it took, it was all forgotten; all wrongs forgiven and Michael would bathe his cuts, or the filth from his body and praise him. It was the praise that healed Jonathan better than any balm, or bandage. Knowing that he had pleased, had done something so right to deserve praise was like drops of ambrosia on a parched tongue. Jonathan could live on one word of Michaels praise, for many days, or at least, until the next time he displeased him.
dubaiyan has finished, eumenides1 is storming along, so is nanovalkyrie. I must... not...fail. I've just got to focus. I do however have a nice MUSEY icon ... *drool* which is dedicated to petulantgodGIP
yes - FOCUS!!!! and not procrastinate which is what i've been doing for three hours. Its the bloody research!! I mean - who the fuck is going to care whether or not the Thorn Inn in Mistley is really on the river Stour or not?
ME!!! I just want to get it right, and I'm too obsessive about details. *headdesk* can you believe people? Mistley - namely "The Thorn" public house in that Essex village is where Hopkins and his cronies of murderous bastards hung out, and when you go to that pub's webpage...... NOT A MENTION of it. sheesh.. I give up.
Ok. am going now. Somewhere there is pedestrian tripe in potentia, and it might as well be me wot writes it.
Jonathan's lusts had been razed and torn from him, his body was completely unable to respond to anything that Michael did to him, and at first Jonathan was surprised that Michael was not angry about this, until he learned that it was not his body that made Michael the happiest, it was Jonathan's obedience that aroused him, made him turn to him with eager hands and loving words, tangled with Biblical texts. After a lesson well learned, after however many punishments it took, it was all forgotten; all wrongs forgiven and Michael would bathe his cuts, or the filth from his body and praise him. It was the praise that healed Jonathan better than any balm, or bandage. Knowing that he had pleased, had done something so right to deserve praise was like drops of ambrosia on a parched tongue. Jonathan could live on one word of Michaels praise, for many days, or at least, until the next time he displeased him.
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