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Robert, ein amerikanischer Student, wohnt bei Familie Becker in Zürich. Im folgenden Dialog laden Anja Becker und ihre Freundin Bianca Robert ein, mit ihnen eine Reise nach Österreich zu machen. Ergänzen Sie den text mit den passenden Possessiv pronomen.
ANJA: Komm, Robert, wir machen gerade _unsere_ Ferienpläne. Wir fahren nach *Ouml;sterreich zu _unser/mein_ Freunden. Du kommst doch mit, oder?
ROBERT: Ja, gern. Wie lange bleibt ihr denn bei _dein_ Freunden?
BIANCA: Eine Woche. Du kannst _deine_ Arbeit mitnehmen.
ROBERT: Ja, dass muss ich. Ich muss _mein_ Referat vorbereiten.
ANJA: Das Schöne ist, dass Vater gesagt hat, wir können _sein_ Auto nehmen.
ROBERT: Das finde ich sehr nett von dein Vater, Anja.
BIANCA: Ja, das ist toll! Ich wollte schon _(no, really, I have no idea whose sister this is supposed to be)_ Schwester fragen, ob sie uns sein Wagen gibt.
ANJA: Na, den brauchen wir jetzt nich. Ich glaube, unsere Reise wird super!
At this point I am going to start naming these goddamn weasels. The "you're not good enough" "no one will care what you have to self-publish" "you'll never be one of Them" "nobody likes you" "go eat worms" weasels. Their names are Malcolm, Timmy, Willie, Patrick, Shanksville, Jerry, and Ed.
(Ed's the little shit who keeps gnawing on my ankles every time someone I knew in passing when they were an un-published struggling author gets a mention from a childhood idol. Fuck you, Ed.)
So, yeah. I'm editing, can you tell? Editing always sends me into this tailspin of you're putting all this effort into something no one will care about. Fuck you, Malcolm, I'm not doing this for the adulation, if I wanted adulation I'd write Nick/Renard porn. I'd twitch the whole way through it, but I'd write it. If I wanted adulation. Which I clearly don't, or there would be a lot more Sam/Dean in my AO3. I want to write stuff that I find fun and interesting. And occasionally, put it out there so if other people find it fun and interesting they can see it too. Only I don't want to do it half-assedly. So, slogging. And occasionally thwacking Shanksville in the face with a frying pan.
I have now done the daring thing and not taken my box to the store for two whole days! Nor have I needed it! It's a fucking miracle! I swear I had more things to say about house stuff but it has gone right out of my head. I'm tired. It's time to get back to editing and the last bit of languages for the day. Twelve days until closing holy FUCK when did that happen. And weaving class tomorrow. And editing and prepping my BigBang Mixups because the mixers I have emailed haven't given me squat in terms of feedback since the first one. Who is amazing and wonderful and DID give me feedback. So, fuckit. Fuck everything, finished fics forever.
Speaking of finished fics, oh god. Works in progress I need to get back to. No, not all of it at once, Jag. One step at a time. Pull your thoughts together, you're scattering.