Cure for writer's block.
I may have possibly discovered a cure for writer's block - writing bad!fic.
Here's my Round 3 submission for the Bulwinchester-Lytton Worst First Lines Competition, over at the most awesome win_non_con. Such a fun place to play!
Dean clasped his brother’s arm so tight he left tiny half moon-shaped, well actually not quite half, more crescent moon-shaped bruises in the pale creamy delicate flesh of Sam’s surprisingly thin, graceful forearm, and panted heavily as he bit down on his rose-colored swollen lips that looked as if they had been stung by a bee, if a bee could have got into the room, which it probably couldn’t because it was a hospital, and focused on the adoration and encouragement flooding out of the soulful dark brown flecked with gold eyes of his brother, who was also his lover, as he gave birth to their beautiful assbaby twins, who they were going to name Jonathina Samantha and Bobby Deanna Winchester after their dead father and his lover.
And I'm not sure how it happened, but my drunken evil John Winchester submission won the competition. I'm so chuffed, I'm sitting here with a great big dumb grin on my face. Thanks to all you kind people who voted.
"Go get me another goddamn drink, boy!” yelled the drunken, stubbly-chinned John Winchester, tossing the now empty Jack Daniel’s Whiskey bottle at the dark blonde head of his older son, Dean, while simultaneously stubbing out his cigarette on the pale flesh of the trembling forearm of Dean’s younger, brunette-haired, doe-eyed brother, Sammy, causing his older brother Dean to whimper in sympathy, because of their special brotherly connection, forged so many years ago in the terrible fire that had robbed them of their beautiful angelic mother, and turned their father from a loving family man into a mean, drunken, sadistic bastard.
Here's my Round 3 submission for the Bulwinchester-Lytton Worst First Lines Competition, over at the most awesome win_non_con. Such a fun place to play!
Dean clasped his brother’s arm so tight he left tiny half moon-shaped, well actually not quite half, more crescent moon-shaped bruises in the pale creamy delicate flesh of Sam’s surprisingly thin, graceful forearm, and panted heavily as he bit down on his rose-colored swollen lips that looked as if they had been stung by a bee, if a bee could have got into the room, which it probably couldn’t because it was a hospital, and focused on the adoration and encouragement flooding out of the soulful dark brown flecked with gold eyes of his brother, who was also his lover, as he gave birth to their beautiful assbaby twins, who they were going to name Jonathina Samantha and Bobby Deanna Winchester after their dead father and his lover.
And I'm not sure how it happened, but my drunken evil John Winchester submission won the competition. I'm so chuffed, I'm sitting here with a great big dumb grin on my face. Thanks to all you kind people who voted.
"Go get me another goddamn drink, boy!” yelled the drunken, stubbly-chinned John Winchester, tossing the now empty Jack Daniel’s Whiskey bottle at the dark blonde head of his older son, Dean, while simultaneously stubbing out his cigarette on the pale flesh of the trembling forearm of Dean’s younger, brunette-haired, doe-eyed brother, Sammy, causing his older brother Dean to whimper in sympathy, because of their special brotherly connection, forged so many years ago in the terrible fire that had robbed them of their beautiful angelic mother, and turned their father from a loving family man into a mean, drunken, sadistic bastard.