Spn meets Mysterious company (chapter I)
Mystery machine dragged wheel behind the well. Fog hampered visibility from a distance of more than a meter.
-Well fine, we got lost- groaned Shaggy- Fred as now we get to the festival Tacos?! If we do not we get the time, my stomach will be very disconsolate-as proof of his words, his stomach rumbled loudly.
-rawr! - Scooby echoed.
-Easy gluttons, I'm sure we're going the right way-said Fred.
Velma and Daphne had sent the knowing saws. Suddenly the fog emerged a dark shape.
-Fred, stop the car-Daphne called, pointing in front of him-there is someone on the side, they may need some help, we need to check it out!
-Good idea Daphne, We try it out, maybay, by the way...
-We ask for directions? - Velma revived.
-That's not what I meant! - Fred outraged, but no one paid the slightest attention.
-It does not hurt to ask-countered Shaggy- maybe they have something to eat ...
-rawr, rawr! - funnily snapped Scooby-Doo.
Daphne rolled her eyes theatrically.
-You two have the sto
the passion of writerWho really is the writer? for most people it's just a bore, which sits at compiling all the time, and there you type a make-believe stories, most sick fantasies own head ... but they are wrong, because the writer is real life ... exhausters first starts with the fact that he is looking for his own inspiration. It can be anything, as a real writer sees what others do not see. Is sitting in the corner and watches ... dust particles in the air, face the people who he saw. He catches everything, every emotion, every glint in his eye, every twitch, every frown face, all the excitement written all over his face ... then wades deeper and puts the story. Read out the mood of the surrounding reality, sips every emotion, delights in the strongest ... and begins to write. But do not write about what he saw. All this is covered with a layer of darkness and mystery, all this gives a deeper meaning. Feeds on feelings, it sucks like a vampire (maybe it's because I love them anyway?). That's why crave
Broken heart- spn
Werewolfes pull up hearts- minds whirled in Sam's head, well Madison takes mine too. He felt that he had no heart. He was empty deep inside.Madison took his heart, but he still had it. He breathed deeply, feeling a wave that flooded dementia.
-Dean? - He asked, his voice washed out with emotion.
-What? - Dean said, too softly as per his standards.
He gives for Sam, a glimpse and immediately turned his head. He was afraid, or do not want to look at his brother's eyes. View the tears just surpassed him. Sam opened his mouth, but no one came out of no sound output. He sat there, not knowing what to say. He stared blankly into space.
-Whats up Sammy? Are you okay? - Dean said, as gently as he could-it was clear afterwards that he really try.
Sam snorted. It was not right, because how could it be? But not in this thing, and now he just wanted to distance themselves from it. Dean looked at him annoyed.
-Sam, just ... - he said, but he stopped.
-You know, Dean ... - hesitated for a moment-jus
Spn- sorrow (season 6 tribute)
Dean was sitting in a chair, drifting somewhere outside of the surrounding reality. Lisa and Ben sat by and watched television. Now they were his family. He leaned a sip from a glass in his hand. He flinched and frowned. He was ashamed of himself. He was running away from the problems of alcohol for some time nothing else it did not work. My thoughts went back to that fateful day when, in his opinion, he lost everything. Again he returned to the damn desert. Before his eyes become Adam, which temporarily usurped Michael ... and there was also Sam, but rather Lucifer son of a bitch. He could not think of him differently, but he knew that it was still his brother. This knowledge hurt him the most. Sammy was the center of this, when hell broke loose.
-It was still my brother, and I could not help him ... - threw himself.
Paradoxically, the angels, not demons that hunted so passionately together, drew upon them the curse. He remembered the moment when the moment regained itself, when for a