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Stolen meme
Sep. 12th, 2011 09:44 pmstolen from beatlemaniac9 Post six sentences of what you're working on now:
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The past year or so had been…well, difficult to say the least. After Sam showed back up, Dean had left his new life with Ben and Lisa. There was no way around it, he’d put up token resistance and honestly had feelings of loss when he thought about that year he’d spent pretending to be some regular guy who had barbecues in his backyard with the neighbors and doing yardwork and going to a normal job every day. But he belonged with his brother, even if his brother wasn’t the same as he used to be. Dean’s way of dealing with his current situation was the only way he knew how.
Sure it’s kinda lonely, yeah it’s sort of sick, being your own one-and-only is a dirty selfish trick
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He told Fred what he could remember about his brief encounter with the witch a few weeks earlier, which he’d written off as inconsequential when it happened, but Fred didn’t seem to agree with his previous assessment of the situation, and Spike figured she was probably right. She was certain that the witch had somehow made this situation possible. So Spike gave her every detail he could remember about the girl, where they’d met, which street upon which the attack had taken place, how long ago it had been. He even volunteered to bring in his ripped t-shirt, which he’d just thrown onto the floor of his closet that night, never thinking about it again. Fred seemed especially brightened by the thought of physical evidence being brought to her. But since she was Fred, she kept asking questions, intensely personal questions with this completely clinical look on her face as if she were just gathering information on any random case they’d worked before.
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“Jay, ain't like you got shit to do tomorrow. You don't have to go to work. Later you have to tell me how a motherfucker gets fired on his day off. But not now. Go on. Take a hit."
Hopefully one or more of these will not turn out to be complete and utter crap.
****************************
The past year or so had been…well, difficult to say the least. After Sam showed back up, Dean had left his new life with Ben and Lisa. There was no way around it, he’d put up token resistance and honestly had feelings of loss when he thought about that year he’d spent pretending to be some regular guy who had barbecues in his backyard with the neighbors and doing yardwork and going to a normal job every day. But he belonged with his brother, even if his brother wasn’t the same as he used to be. Dean’s way of dealing with his current situation was the only way he knew how.
Sure it’s kinda lonely, yeah it’s sort of sick, being your own one-and-only is a dirty selfish trick
******************************
He told Fred what he could remember about his brief encounter with the witch a few weeks earlier, which he’d written off as inconsequential when it happened, but Fred didn’t seem to agree with his previous assessment of the situation, and Spike figured she was probably right. She was certain that the witch had somehow made this situation possible. So Spike gave her every detail he could remember about the girl, where they’d met, which street upon which the attack had taken place, how long ago it had been. He even volunteered to bring in his ripped t-shirt, which he’d just thrown onto the floor of his closet that night, never thinking about it again. Fred seemed especially brightened by the thought of physical evidence being brought to her. But since she was Fred, she kept asking questions, intensely personal questions with this completely clinical look on her face as if she were just gathering information on any random case they’d worked before.
*******************************
“Jay, ain't like you got shit to do tomorrow. You don't have to go to work. Later you have to tell me how a motherfucker gets fired on his day off. But not now. Go on. Take a hit."
Hopefully one or more of these will not turn out to be complete and utter crap.
