just rp it.

[musedactyl]

how to play.
1.  Drop a comment with one or more of your muses.  It can be empty if you want me to make a scenario, or you can toss one at me.  If you want to just give me a prompt (a word, song, lyric, picture, phrase, anything), I can riff off that too.
2.  In the subject line, you can specify any of my muses you might want to play with, or you can ask me to pick someone.  No muses are off-limits except for those that have no icon uploaded on the list.  If you leave it to me, it is likely that I will give you someone I haven't tried yet, haven't tried much, or haven't played in a long while.
3.  just rp with me.  if something jives really well, maybe we can continue it in another one of these later, sort of like a super casual verse.  if it doesn't, it doesn't.

Comments

[idjits]

[ it was worth a shot. ]

Beats playing Monopoly for the next couple weeks.

[strongeralone]

[He appreciates Bobby not pushing it, especially with the boys waiting outside. Sammy's sleeping, but he knows Dean always has an ear out and he's been through enough without adding their shouting matches into the mix.]

Sammy's unbeatable in that anyway.

[idjits]

You're tellin' me. Kid breaks the bank every time. Don't know where he got those brains of his. Sure wasn't from his old man.

[strongeralone]

[No. Dean's his father's son, Sammy...Sammy's Mary's even though he never knew her.]

He got it from the good side of the family.

[idjits]

Now that I'll buy.

[strongeralone]

[He smiles sadly for a moment, nodding.]

Anything else or can I bring 'em in?

[idjits]

Go on, already. I can see your chompin' at the bit to get outta here.

[strongeralone]

[A hunter never passes up a hunt. The longer he delays here the greater the risk to the people around. So he just nods and opens the door to call Dean in, walking out to carry Sam who fell asleep in the back of the Impala.]

[idjits]

[ and bobby doesn't have to try very hard to paint the smile on: gripes as he might, he likes seeing the little buggers. ]

Think there might be a pie in the fridge with your name on it, kid.

[strongeralone]

[John nods at his son who looks up at him in a silent inquiry before running off. He lays Sam down on the couch, picking up a blanket to cover him, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead.]

Take care of 'em.

[He knows Bobby will, but they're everything he's got left in the world.]

[idjits]

And here I was plannin' to just let 'em run off in the wild on their own. [ despite the cranky retort, he nods to john with a sincere enough goodbye ] Take care of yourself. For their sake.

C'mon boys.