#midgetbubble

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

Hi! I wanted to participate in the WTF*ck Challenge (my writing blog is @silencethroughwords). The quote I wanted was #42 (“God, you whine like whale song. But a lot less eerie and beautiful and more, well, fucking annoying.”) or if that's not available #37 (“It’s amazing how you can smell so bad, but still be alive.”). Thank you!

Your first choice #42 belongs to you, I’ll mark you down with your writing blog. Have a good time.

[thats-what-exo-said-blog1]

One Shot: “Hello”

Description: based on the song “Hello” by Adele and that post about one half of an OTP calling the other while they’re dying, to hear the other’s voice. If anyone can find the post, please message it to me, and I’ll link it here as credit.

He picked up after two rings. “Yeah?”

Cassie felt tears spring into her eyes. The voice was deeper and rougher, but she would know it anywhere. It haunted her dreams every night.  

“Dean.” She could barely get his name – a prayer, really – out. The pain was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. “Hey. It’s—it’s Cassie.”

“Cassie?” There was a shuffling sound as he adjusted the phone, and then his voice came back, clearer. “God. Cassie Robinson. Is it really you?”

“Yeah, Dean,” she laughed, then broke off with a hiss as the pain flared.

“What was that?” Concern colored his tone. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” The words slipped through her gritted teeth. The warehouse ceiling was spinning and she was shivering and overheating at the same time. But mostly, Cassie was just in awe.

Dean. She was talking to Dean. Just hearing him, alive and real and well on the other end, was more healing than anything else. “But tell me about you. How are you, man?” ‘Man’ was a hideously platonic term, but the years had driven distance between them, and she couldn’t bring herself to call him anything more familiar.

“I’m great, Cassie.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice, could almost imagine the crinkles around his eyes forming, the curve of his lips. “It’s been a long road, but hey, I got a sweet ride.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, Dean,” she managed. And it was. How many nights had she woken in cold sweat with that sick fear for him in her stomach? But her vision was getting spotty, and breathing was becoming an increasingly difficult feat. Sweat made her hair cling to her scalp, and the room seemed too big. Too empty. She was dying alone. Would anyone notice her absence? Would she be missed?

“And Sam?” she nearly gasped. “Did he…did he finally end up with that Jessica chick?”

“You remembered,” he chuckled. “Nah. Jess got away. Always knew she was outta my brother’s league.”

Cassie held the phone away from her face and covered the receiver as she let out a bloody cough. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the cool metal to her ear again. She had a minute or so left. Make it count.

“Sorry to hear about Jessica. She’s missing out.” Wrap it up. “Dean, did you—” she broke off to wheeze, “finally find your dad?”

“Cassie, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ve never been better,” she whispered. The world was fading now, going in and out of focus like a broken camera lens. The pain, too, was slowly leaving her body only to be replaced by a nothingness that was almost peaceful.  “Dean, listen. I’m—I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes to the warehouse. Now there was nothing but his voice, almost as if he were right here with her.

“For what?” he asked sharply. He knew something was up.

“For everything. For not going with you all those years ago. I was just…scared. But I should have—I—we should have—”

“Cassie. What’s going on?”

But even now, even on the brink of oblivion, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. He deserved more anyway, deserved better. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Cassie?” She smiled. Her name on his tongue was all she needed to hear to let go. “Cassie! Talk to me. What’s happening—where are you…”

She’d always been a realist, but maybe this time, she’d finally get to see him again. And with that hope in her still heart, she hung up.

[thats-what-exo-said-blog1]

Fifty Years a Car: Episode 2 - How to Get Away with Credit Card Fraud

Description: Human!Impala AU.

Setting: The fic takes place right after the Season 8 finale with a few changes. In this AU, Metatron did not succeed in casting the angels out of Heaven. Cas is without his grace, yes, but Metatron is locked away in Heaven’s prison. Crowley is at large, Kevin still lives in the bunker, and Abaddon is plotting nasty things, as per usual. Now add in Human!Baby, and see what happens :3

Warnings: profanity

Word Count: 3485

Author: cotangent-brothers

“Wanna grab breakfast?”

Dean glanced at her as she drove. He’d been trying to gather his thoughts which kept splintering into a thousand pieces, the fragments landing all over the place.

“No, I don’t want to grab breakfast,” he muttered, but then his stomach gurgled in complaint, and she laughed. It was the most lighthearted sound he’d heard in a while. She was almost giddy.

“I’m thinking pancakes…with maple syrup and butter and whipped cream,” she closed her eyes and licked her lips. “Oh, or maybe an omelet with home fries and sausages. What do you suggest, Dean?”

“Stop,” he snapped suddenly. “Stop saying my name like you know me. Stop acting like this isn’t weird. I don’t even know if you’re telling truth. I mean, seriously? You expect me to believe that you used to be my car?” He snorted. “I’ve seen some unbelievable crap, but that takes the cake.”  

They’d finished disposing of the werewolves’ bodies and were now back on the road in the car the girl had driven in. Dean didn’t even know why he’d gone with her. Curiosity, maybe? The toy soldier was the very one Sam had stuffed into the ashtray when they were kids. Had the same chipped paint on the bottom of the shoe and everything. But that could have been a coincidence. Or worse, this girl was the one who’d stolen Baby, and she’d simply yanked the figurine out of the ashtray in some perverted attempt to convince him that she was his car. Whatever it was, he was going to figure it out.

The girl—woman—how old was she anyway? She had one of those ageless faces—was staring at the road now, silent and somber. Then, “Rainbow Motors. May 18th, 1973. Lawrence, Kansas.”

Dean stared at her. “What?”

She met his eyes for a moment. “The day your dad bought m—the Impala. And you were there, somehow, convincing him to pick the Chevy over that hippie VW van.”

“How did you—”

“C-45P4. BQN 9R3. Then KAZ 2Y5. And most recently, CNK 80Q3.” Dean swallowed, and she continued. “John gave you the car when you were sixteen, and the first place you drove was to a Barnes and Nobles to buy a playboy magazine. In 2006, a few weeks after your dad died and that bus crashed into the car, you took a golf club and broke one of the windows. Led Zeppelin II and Me and Mr. Johnson are your favorite albums, you crammed Legos in the vent, and you and Sam carved your initials into the floor of the car.”

Dean turned away and watched the world pass from outside his window. There was no way she could have known all this…right? Unless she’d somehow been there when he’d taken Baby for his first drive, had the accident, and gone back through freakin’ time.

He cleared his throat. “How’d you find me today?”

She smirked. “This ain’t my first rodeo, honey. I do possess some skills in tracking and hunting.” Dean grimaced

“Your name, then? And before you say it, I’m not calling you ‘Baby’,” he added. She was quiet for a long time, with some hidden emotion creasing her brow.

“Jackie,” she said finally. “My name was Jackie Wilson.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside an IHOP, much to Dean’s reluctance.

Jackie quite enjoyed seeing him through human eyes. He was something of a looker, and she drank him in as they went in, got seated, and ordered.

There was a well-worn beauty to him, the proud set of his jaw warring with the doubt in his tired eyes. And what incredible eyes, as green as leaves. She’d missed color. Everything had been black and white when she’d had wheels.

Dean’s gaze kept flickering to her and away as they waited for their food. Whenever their eyes met, he’d scowl and look down. And every time he looked down, Jackie wanted to catch his chin and make him meet her eyes again. She wanted—no, she needed him to trust her. The way she trusted him: unequivocally, unconditionally, wholeheartedly. But then, that trust came from years of being with him, learning how good of a man he was, how kind and loyal and brave and selfless. Dean didn’t know her from Eve. Actually, he knew Eve. He didn’t know her. Not as a person. Not in the way that mattered.

The food finally arrived, and Jackie crossed herself before digging in.

It was magnificent. The soft, fluffy pancakes drizzled in thick syrup, the sweet complimented by the slight saltiness of the butter, all of it melting in her mouth. She had to hold back tears. Across the table, Dean watched her as he ate his waffles.

“I don’t mean to rush you,” he said sarcastically around a mouthful of food, “but I kind of have to deal with a family emergency.”

Jackie froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. Sam. How in the world had she forgotten him? Admittedly, growing legs was quite the distraction, but Sammy was dying. That kind of thing shouldn’t have slipped her mind.

“Sam,” she nodded, and Dean raised a brow. “So, what’s the game plan?”

He stabbed a piece of waffle with his fork and sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. At this point, I might have to contemplate a full on resurrection.” It was meant as a joke, but the desolation in Dean’s voice was tangible. Her heart ached. How many times could fate pull the brothers apart like this? The universe was a cruel mistress.

She reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his, but he jerked it away, probably just out of reflex, but sharply enough that Jackie withdrew her own hand.

“Actually,” she mused, “I think I have an idea.”

* * *

“Your idea sucks.”

Jackie frowned at him but Dean frowned right back. “I mean, you’ve got to know that this is a terrible plan, right? I can already think of twelve things that could go wrong.”

“Well, aren’t you a glass half full?” she muttered. Then, louder, “Look, we’re not running into this blind. I know this guy, okay? He helped my dad once when he’d been shot in the liver. He’s the real deal.”

“But a shaman?” Dean said unenthusiastically as he drove. They were back on the road now, and this time he was behind the wheel. “The ones Sammy and I’ve run into were so full of crap, they put toilets to shame. And it’s an eleven hour drive from Lebanon to Houston, one way. Sam might not have that much time.”  

“Sam’s tough,” Jackie countered. “And unless you can pull a better plan out of your ass, this is the best shot we’ve got.”

“Ugh, fine.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But if that shaman needs a sacrifice, I’m volunteering you, sweetheart.”

“Save the flirting for your pillow, honey.”

Night fell as they drove down what seemed to be an endless highway. Neither of them had spoken much the entire trip, and eventually Jackie had fallen asleep.

Funny how comfortable she seemed to be around him.

Dean always figured he was intimidating – this big, six foot guy with trigger-happy hands and scars. But the girl—Jackie, she acted as if he were her little brother or something. Affectionate, kind of sassy, amused. He looked over at her now, puzzled.

Her head rested against the window and she was snoring softly, her face clear of all worry. But her hands twitched in her sleep, and he wondered for the first time what was going on inside her head. She was this cheerful enigma that he didn’t have time to unravel. Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter, swallowing bitterness. Part of him believed her. All the signs pointed to the truth in her words – the toy soldier, the things she’d said that no one could have known. And maybe that’s why he was so adamant in defying this new twist of fate.

He missed his Baby.

The Impala was more than just a car. She was childhood memories, lonely and nomadic as they were. She was the last reminder of his father, of simpler times, happier times. She was his home, even more than the bunker would ever be. It was when he was fixing her up that he felt most sure of himself. And to think now that she was gone forever…

This girl was not his Baby. And it was too weird to replace all his memories of the Impala with her face. Way too weird to imagine all the things she’s witnessed.

Dean stifled a groan and forced himself to concentrate on the road and nothing else.

* * *

“Hey. Wake up.”

Jackie’s eyes opened and automatically locked on Dean. He looked exhausted, which was a reasonable assumption considering he’d been driving for almost eleven hours straight. They’d only stopped once to have lunch.

“Where are we?” she yawned.

He shut the car off. “The Palace Inn.” Jackie glanced out and saw that they were indeed parked in front of a motel. “I just need a few hours of unconsciousness, and then we can pay your friend a visit.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Together, they got out of the car and made their way into the motel.

A sleepy-looking woman was sitting behind the desk, reading a magazine, and she glanced up as they approached. “Can I help you?” she drawled.

“We’d like two rooms for the night,” Dean said as he handed over his credit card. She took it, shaking her head.

“We’ve only got one room to spare at the moment.”

Amazing, Jackie thought. He let out an exasperated noise, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Seriously?” She coughed to disguise her laughter.  

The woman peered at him over her glasses. “It’s almost 1:00 AM, sir. The one room is all we have available. You can either take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” Jackie interjected before Dean could say something regrettable. The woman nodded and returned his credit card along with a room key.

“Room 147.” She went back to her magazine. “Enjoy your stay.”

“You…enjoy your stay,” he muttered as they walked away.

The room was at the end of the hall. Dean unlocked the door, and their eyes immediately fell on the single, king-sized bed resting in the corner. Obviously.

“I guess I’ll take the floor,” he sighed and went in, plopping down at the table.

Jackie shut the door, feeling guilty. “No, you take the bed. I already got some shut-eye in the car.” Dean looked at her doubtfully. It occurred to her then that he was uncomfortable. With her. With the whole situation. Last thing he probably wanted was her in the room while he slept.

“Tell you what,” she smiled. “I’m kinda hungry, so I’ll make a run. You just get settled, alright?”

After a moment, he shrugged. “Yeah, okay.” He tossed her the keys, and she bit back a grin. It wasn’t exactly trust, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Sleep well, Dean,” Jackie whispered as she left the room.

* * *

As soon as she was gone, Dean got out his cellphone and dialed Cas.

The angel answered after two rings. “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas. Hey. Sorry for vanishing on you guys. It’s kind of, uh…”

“A long story? I thought as much, yes. Are you alright?”

Dean almost smiled. “I’m fine, man. But how’s Sam doing?”

“He’s hanging on.” A tinge of worry touched Cas’ voice. “Whatever you’re planning, Dean, I suggest you do it quickly. Your brother is strong, stronger than most, but he’s still only human.” Only human. Did Cas feel that way about himself now? Dean shoved the thought away. Cas’ issues, as much as they sucked, didn’t need immediate attention. Sam’s did.

“I hear you, man,” he said, running a hand over his face. “Listen, just keep doing what you’re doing. We should be back soon.”

“‘We’?”

Dean’s mouth lifted wryly. “Yeah. See you in a bit.” And he hung up, not even bothering to remove his shoes before collapsing onto the bed.

* * *

Jackie stood in the line at Taco Bell, feeling overwhelmed.

How many meals would she eat before the wonder finally faded? She almost laughed as she read through the menu. So many options. The overabundance of food in this new century was astounding.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember what Dean usually ordered from here.

Some memories were clear as glass, like the license plates, the thrum of Dean’s music through her speakers, even snatches of conversation.

Other things, most things, Jackie could only vaguely recall through muted flashes. When she focused, like she was right now, the blurry memories sharpened slightly, but the effort made her head throb. She pinched the bridge of her nose, concentrating. The image laboriously rose from the ashes of her mind – boots approaching. Dean’s boots. Jackie forced the lens of her memory to pan higher – now she could see his hand grasping the paper bag with the Taco Bell insignia on it –

Run.

Her eyes snapped open, but she wasn’t seeing the queue in front of her anymore.

A decrepit, abandoned house. Blood smeared on the walls in strange shapes – sigils. The scent of mildew and incense. And sulfur.

“Run, Jackie!”

A crumpled piece of paper in her fist. Familiar brown eyes, wide with rage and fear.

“Go!”

More blood, splattering on the ground. “Are you okay, lady?”

The world rushed back to her, and Jackie blinked dizzily. A teenaged boy with a lip ring and eyeliner was peering at her.

“What?”

He shot her an annoyed look. “You just, like, zoned out of this planet.” When she continued staring at him blankly, he gestured to the counter where an employee stood at bored attention. “It’s your turn to order.”

Jackie swallowed back bile. “Actually, I’m not hungry anymore.”

* * *

“Sammy, stop!”

There his brother stood, covered in sweat and desperation, blood dripping from the fresh cut on his hand. How had he gotten so deathly, so quickly?

“What? What’s going on? Where’s Cas?” Dean observed the manic in his brother’s voice. Sam was too close to the edge. He was peering down the abyss. Dean began speaking slowly, calmly, trying to talk his brother back, back to him. But it wasn’t working – Sam was too far gone.

“You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down.” His voice broke at the end, along with Dean’s heart. When—how had he let Sam get to this point? The point where he didn’t care if he lived or died? “What happens when you’ve decided I can’t be trusted again? I mean, who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel? Another…another vampire?  Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just—”

Dean spoke then and through his words, he reeled his little brother back in, away from the pain and the evil and the loneliness. Just as he’d done all his life. And for a minute, things were okay.

“How do I stop?”

“Just let it go. Let it go, brother.”

And then they weren’t. Dean jerked awake with a racing heart and came face-to-face with a to-go bag from Taco Bell. Hmm. Good choice.

Across the room, Jackie sat at the table with her knees tucked under her chin, staring out the window. She looked dazed.

“Did you eat?” he asked groggily as he sat up. She just smiled. Weird. And speaking of weird… “So, are we ever gonna talk about your whole ‘I-used-to-have-tires’ story, or what?”

She sighed. “We did talk about it, Dean.”

“No, you spouted a few fun facts about my ride, and now that I’m thinking about it, there are ways to get that kind of information without actually having been my car.” He opened the Taco Bell bag and plucked a burrito from inside. “Witchcraft, for instance. Demon interrogation. Christo,” he suddenly said. She raised a brow. “Nothing. Never mind. Point is, I’m gonna need more than what you gave me. So start talking, or I’m taking off without you.”

Jackie rolled her eyes but unfolded herself from her chair and came to stand beside him.  

“Give me your hand,” she ordered. He narrowed his eyes warily, but she grabbed his hand and placed it over her sternum. “Feel that?” she said, breathing in and out deeply. Beneath his fingers, a slight vibration began, almost like a rattle.

“Um…you’re asthmatic? Mazel tov.”

“No, you walnut. Those are the Legos.” Dean’s brows shot up, and Jackie continued. “I think they shrank when I turned human, but they’re still there, making me sound like your grandma.” He pulled his hand away while she added, “I’ll even get an x-ray if you want me to prove that they’re Legos and not just tuberculosis.”

“Okay, but—”

“Oh, and one more thing,” she said. Keeping her eyes on him and one hand up in surrender, Jackie slowly reached down and tugged the edge of her shirt up to expose a strip of skin above her beltline. His gaze followed the smooth contour of her stomach to where she was pointing.

There, right above the hard line where her hip jutted from her waist, was a scar. Two scars, actually, and for a minute Dean didn’t understand what he was looking at. Then it dawned on him.

S.W. and D.W., carved into her flesh in reverse, as if he were looking at the letters in a mirror. But in reality, it was because the initials has been carved from the inside, the same reason why instead of the scars being a thick pink or white line, they simple appeared as raised skin.

Someone had etched those initials inside of her. Which would have been physically impossible unless…

“I’m not lying, Dean,” she said quietly, and for the first time, he found himself nodding.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Okay.” Jackie dropped her shirt back into place with a look of profound relief and sat down at the foot of the bed.

“Bizarre, huh?” she chuckled, but there was no humor in her tone. “I’m not really sure how to feel about…all of it.”

“Do you want to talk about?” he asked awkwardly. “I hear that helps sometimes.” This wasn’t exactly a situation he’d dealt with before. Giant, talking teddy bears, sure. Being abducted by fairies posing as aliens, obviously. But this was…a new one. Unsure of how better to be supportive, he unwrapped his burrito and shoved it into his mouth.

Jackie rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Honestly, there’s not much to talk about. And I think my memory’s got gaps in it, to make this even more fun.” She glanced at him, then away. “I remember a flash of blue and then waking up on the side of a road with your stuff all around me. I was also wearing what I’d worn before getting turned into a car, which was tattered – so I went off to get new clothes—”

“Wait, hold up,” Dean cut in. “‘Before getting turned into a car’? Are you saying that you were a person with a life before? And someone did this to you?”

“No, Dean, I turn into a car every full moon.” She shook her head exasperatedly. “Yes, someone did this to me. A witch, to be exact.”

“A witch…” His eyes widened. “I killed a witch the night Baby—I mean, the night when you became human again. Think it’s the same one?”

“Sounds like it. Did he have a uni brow? I’m pretty sure I remember a uni brow.”

“Oh,” Dean frowned. “The one I wasted was a woman. Not the same, I guess.”

Jackie shrugged nonchalantly, but something about the set of her shoulders and the way her hands were balled tightly in her lap made him think that she’d been stewing over this for a while.

“We have more pressing matters anyway. Sam comes first,” she said, and he nodded. “So, why don’t you get a few more hours of sleep, and then we can hit the road.”

Dean stared at the half-eaten burrito in his hands.

Let it go, brother. The words surfaced in his mind again, accompanied by Sam’s unconscious face. His brother was letting go as they spoke, and soon there would be nothing to let go of.

“You know, I think I’m good,” he said.

Jackie looked concerned. “Really? But you paid for this room.”

“Yeah.” He tore off another bite of burrito and through a full mouth, added, “Three words: credit card fraud.”

She snorted, then stood up and stretched. “Alrighty. Let’s go.” 

[Ep. 1]

[l-e-i-n-t-h]

midgetbubble replied to your post: “Help!”:

help is on the way *brings jet-pack out of the box*

hahahahahaha!! Thanks, girl. I mean, he said to me that tumblr was a place for people controlled by the rules of society and for false social justice and good manners, while 4chan was “the real deal”.

o_O

[l-e-i-n-t-h]

midgetbubble

Yes, it's an xkit extension: Header options ;)

And reply replies crashed :(

[lgbtladies]

Hi. I just wanted to say thank you. As a bi woman, the mere existence of this blog makes me happy (esp that it doesn't focus on the nsfw stuff like most other blogs who have the same general focus). Have a great day o/

we’re glad you enjoy! if you have any suggestions we would love feedback :)

- emma

[l-e-i-n-t-h]

I don't know if you like that type of stuff, but I found that pretty cool: "Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, then send this to 10 of your favorite followers (nonnegotiable) positivity is cool. :3"

I have some of this messages in my drafts, but I don't usually complete them. Let's see:

I like my faith. I have a lot of that.

I like my writing style. I like it so very much a lot ASDFGHJLKL. 

I like my hair.

I like my voice. I can sing, I can make voices, and it never let me down. Well, I'm pretty loud, hahaha.

I like my smile. I smile very often, by the way.

Thanks a lot for this. Tons of hugs for you, my friend, and I'll send it to some people. Not ten, but yeah.

Thanks again!

[l-e-i-n-t-h]

Visit Original Link

Happy Birthday, midgetbubble !!! I wish for you the very best in the Universe!

Ok, I recorded this at my home, and I'm a better singer than I am a sound tech, but I did my best. 

This is the original version of the song, by argentinian singer Pedro Aznar, and I'll try to translate the lyrics for you, but it will be impossible to reproduce the poetry. Here we go:

SI NO OIGO A MI CORAZÓN / If I don't listen to my heart

Ah, cuanto tiempo perdido en pensar 

que la vida se puede explicar 

Con veneno intenté curación 

¿por qué confié en mi razón? 

Ah, how much time lost thinking

that life can be explained.

With poison I tried healing

why did I trust my reason?

Ya en un mar de palabras me ahogué 

y fue en vano quererlas creer 

Pero al fin el castillo cayó 

y adentro sólo estoy yo 

In a sea of words I drowned

and it was in vain to want to believe them

But finally the castle collapsed

and inside there was only me

Vos ya sabías que todo es parcial 

que no hay mapa que enseñe a viajar 

que es el alma quien debe cantar 

Que sólo un tonto se pone a correr 

cuando la lluvia le besa los pies (x2)

You already knew that everything is partial

that there's no map that teaches to travel

that it is the soul the one who must sing.

That only a fool starts running

when the rain kisses his feet (x2)

Sirve el tiempo su mismo licor 

que cada año acelera el temor 

que en mi copa se amargue el sabor 

si no oigo a mi corazón

Time pours its same liquor

that each passing year accelerates the fear

that in my glass the flavor gets sour

if I don't listen to my heart.

I hope you like it! (And sorry for the creepy-bad-selfie, I hope you don't have a nightmare or anything)