1. Have you started the story yet? Yes... 2. How confident are you of making the May 15 deadline? Less and less every day. Especially since I kind of convinced myself it was in June. 3. What sort of difficulties (if any) are you encountering in writing the story? Complete and total writers' block right now (probably linked to a not-great mental state rn) 4. Why is a blackboard? Why not? 5. If a bullet is fired nowhere near a queer female character and there are no cameras to see it, what happens? Apparently, she is mysteriously mauled and left in a bathtub for the (apparently) straight white cis male characters to find.
“We’ll just have to hit the offices at the same time as the factory,” Karen said simply. “That should be simple enough, shouldn’t it? You’ve done a mass exorcism before, haven’t you?” “Well, yeah,” Dean said gruffly, “but that was just a little sheriff’s station, and they had a PA system.” She smiled at him; a little smile that Sam was sure meant she thought Dean was being difficult on purpose. “There will be a way to acquire enough information to carry out a simultaneous strike,” Cas said. “After all, I am sure we need not worry about the possibility of the virus being present in their offices.” “But they know my face,” Dean said, “and you’re still all shiny and supernatural.” Karen cleared her throat delicately. “No.” Bobby and Dean spoke simultaneously, both vehement in their objections. Karen just looked unimpressed. “Bobby, tell your boys what my job was,” she said sweetly. “Karen, I…” ‘Tell them.” Bobby sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “After we got married, Karen did my books. But before, she was a secretary at the Sheriff’s office.” “And I was very good at my job, wasn’t I?” Bobby nodded reluctantly. “So, Sam: you’re going to teach me everything I need to know to pass myself off as a secretary in the twenty-first century. Bobby, you’re going to find out who the bigwigs are that I need to scope out. Dean, you and Cas need to find me a way to wipe out a load of demons quickly. Gabriel…” “I’m taking you shopping for a new wardrobe,” he said. “Because as much as it suits you, the seventies housewife look is kind of last century.” Karen smiled and nodded. “That’s exactly what I need.” “And references, and a college degree. But they’re easy enough to fake if you know how.” And with a flourish, Gabriel presented Karen with a diploma from USD. “Congratulations, Bobby,” he said. “You married the woman who came second in her class. I don’t think even I could swing valedictorian successfully: not in the Facebook age. Get Sam to show you that too, and Twitter.”
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carisma_sensei
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Date: 2016-04-03 07:45 pm (UTC)2. How confident are you of making the May 15 deadline? Less and less every day. Especially since I kind of convinced myself it was in June.
3. What sort of difficulties (if any) are you encountering in writing the story? Complete and total writers' block right now (probably linked to a not-great mental state rn)
4. Why is a blackboard? Why not?
5. If a bullet is fired nowhere near a queer female character and there are no cameras to see it, what happens? Apparently, she is mysteriously mauled and left in a bathtub for the (apparently) straight white cis male characters to find.
“We’ll just have to hit the offices at the same time as the factory,” Karen said simply. “That should be simple enough, shouldn’t it? You’ve done a mass exorcism before, haven’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” Dean said gruffly, “but that was just a little sheriff’s station, and they had a PA system.”
She smiled at him; a little smile that Sam was sure meant she thought Dean was being difficult on purpose.
“There will be a way to acquire enough information to carry out a simultaneous strike,” Cas said. “After all, I am sure we need not worry about the possibility of the virus being present in their offices.”
“But they know my face,” Dean said, “and you’re still all shiny and supernatural.”
Karen cleared her throat delicately.
“No.”
Bobby and Dean spoke simultaneously, both vehement in their objections. Karen just looked unimpressed.
“Bobby, tell your boys what my job was,” she said sweetly.
“Karen, I…”
‘Tell them.”
Bobby sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “After we got married, Karen did my books. But before, she was a secretary at the Sheriff’s office.”
“And I was very good at my job, wasn’t I?”
Bobby nodded reluctantly.
“So, Sam: you’re going to teach me everything I need to know to pass myself off as a secretary in the twenty-first century. Bobby, you’re going to find out who the bigwigs are that I need to scope out. Dean, you and Cas need to find me a way to wipe out a load of demons quickly. Gabriel…”
“I’m taking you shopping for a new wardrobe,” he said. “Because as much as it suits you, the seventies housewife look is kind of last century.”
Karen smiled and nodded. “That’s exactly what I need.”
“And references, and a college degree. But they’re easy enough to fake if you know how.” And with a flourish, Gabriel presented Karen with a diploma from USD.
“Congratulations, Bobby,” he said. “You married the woman who came second in her class. I don’t think even I could swing valedictorian successfully: not in the Facebook age. Get Sam to show you that too, and Twitter.”