for theatrical_muse

She stood still, wrapped in Dean's leather jacket watching Dean's reactions carefully, head tipped slightly to the side.

"So, uh…how long're you gonna be…" He gestured a little. She shrugged. She didn't know. Probably not that long. "Right. Uh. This is just weird."

She looked up at him with big eyes and he folding like a pack of cards, picking her up and starting to walk back towards the room just as Sam came out.

"Where's the Imp - you're carrying a little girl." She curled closer to Dean, eyes narrowing at Sam.

"Right." Sam looked insanely confused at Dean's answer - and she gave a triumphant smirk. Sam glared at her and, when Dean's gaze followed, she looked angelically back at him.

"What d'you mean right? Where's the car and why're you holding a girl?"

"I'm holding the girl because this is the car," Dean stated dryly before nodding as Sam's jaw dropped.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Dean snuggled her closer to him before brushing past Sam, back towards the reception to ask them if there was any way they could rent a car or something. Impy wrapped her arms around his neck, looking at Sam and beaming at him triumphantly over Dean's shoulder.

She did that every time Dean blew Sammy off to pay more attention to her - and loved every single jealous glare she got in return.

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 230

for theatrical_muse

Dear Andy,

It wasn’t anything personal, dude. You’re a cool guy and everything, but Dean’s Dean. We couldn’t have worked out and it was all good that you ended up walking away. I know I’m pretty but I’m also already owned and very much in love.

Plus, you already have a nice van.

I’m sorry, though, but it’s for the best. We never would have worked out. I’m really not into disco.

Love,
That sexy Chevrolet Impala ’67 you stole obi-waned out of my one and only.



Dear Sammy,

Please be stopping with playing that emo stuff you try to call music in my tape deck. It’s not music and it hurts me. It hurts me a lot. Learn to listen to the good stuff so I can actually be happier to claim that you grew up in my backseat. And stop insulting my tape deck. It’s really classic.

Plus I know you like it really so you should stop stop complaining. Your complaining also hurts me; I think it might be worse than your music.

No love,
Impy.

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 179

for theatrical_muse

My perfect day is really simple. I mean, a girl doesn't ask for much except to be alone with her boy, y'know? An open road - just miles and miles of it, with no one else around; a full tank of gas; Dean in the driving seat, my engine purring as he speeds along, rock music - maybe AC/DC or Metallica or Zeppelin or something - blasting from the speakers.

No destination. Just roads and fields and endless blue sky.

And maybe Sam in the passenger seat because my Dean's a bit of a moody bitch, all focused on the job and restless and worried and stuff (it's kind of cute, but he complains a lot and all he ever talks about is Sam, which makes him absolutely no fun), when Sammy's not around. But my perfect day? Sam would be asleep. All day.

So, the perfect day would be on the road, doing what I'm meant to do with only man ever meant to drive me - just him and me (and Sammy, but he doesn't' count), and the world for our taking.

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 180

for theatrical_muse

Scars? I don’t have scars because my Dean takes real good care of me. Not to say there shouldn’t be – and I suppose emotional scars count of as much, right? Even if Dean’s fixed me all up good again, those emotional scars, that memory of those wounds, will always be there – but they don’t hurt. Dean’s made them all better.

Anyway, my biggest emotional scar? Is Sammy driving. So many memories involving Sammy’s driving have ended in pain, dents, scratches and misery.

The first time it happened, he was twelve and learning to drive. Sammy was a sort, chubby little thing so his little legs couldn’t reach the pedal without him practically disappearing under the wheel (eventually, Dean ended up using blocks of wood that he could slide on top of his shoes, and made him sit on cushions). Anyway, he almost ran me into a tree; managed to swerve just in time – and scratched my paintwork like anything.

Then there was that one time with that ghost. Dude, she hotwired me, the bitch. And then, after the trauma of being hotwired and driven around (chasing my Dean, too!) by a ghost, and the trauma of watching the ghost make out with Sammy in Dean’s seat – Sammy goes and drives me into a house. A house.

And do I even need to mention the ten-ton freaking truck? Hello, Sammy, it’s called eyes on the road. That’d never have happened if Dean’d been driving – and don’t give me that shit about possessed demon-drivers, okay? Sammy should have been watching the road and he wasn’t – ergo, Sammy is a really cruddy driver.

So, emotional (and once physical) scars are all Sammy’s fault – and my Dean makes them all better again. And so, the moral of today’s story, ladies and gentlemen, is never let Sam drive unless Dean’s around to fix you up.

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 310

for theatrical_muse

Dear the Millennium Falcon,

You are the coolest hero’s transport ever to exist. Ever. No, really, you are.

You’re sleak, strong, calm in the face of danger – and you are really, really awesome. There are just no words to describe how awesome you are.

The first time I saw that movie, and heard Dean talking about it, I was completely in love. I wanted to be just like you. I think I’m doin’ pretty damn good, actually. I mean, we’re both a little old. People probably say we should be upgraded and random stupid ass shit like that but, really, we’re perfect. At least, our people think we’re perfect so who cares, right? We’re both a little battered and beaten but nothing can keep us from saving the day.

I think that’s really cool, heh?

But seriously, I got nothing on you. You kick fuckin’ ass. I love you. Seriously. You’re my celebrity crush and I’m finally getting it out in the open.

Your pilot isn’t half as awesome as my Dean, but you…you’re my role model of a fucking perfect hero’s ship.

Now all I need is to attach those guns in the trunk so they can be more useful.

Yours in complete and utter fangirl worship,
Impala Winchester.

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 210

for theatrical_muse

Disillusionment? I'll tell you who's disillusioned: my Dean's girl of the night/week/day/whatever. Seriously. When they're all spread out in my backseat/front seat over the trunk/hood pressed up against my side, when the doors are half-opened/closed - whatever - and moaning like they're the best whores on the planet, and they think they mean something to my Dean, they're totally and utterly mistaken. Hell, if they even think they're giving Dean something to remember, they're so very wrong.

Even dear miss Cassie I'm-too-good-for-you-you-crazy-bastard Robinson was disillusioned. Sure she meant something to Dean, more so than all the others, but she'd never be Dean's world like she obviously thought she was. She'd never mean more to Dean than the job.

And she could never be Dean's world because that…well, that was John and Sammy.

And me, of course, but that goes without saying. I am and will always be the only girl that means anything to my Dean.

Everyone else is just trying to fool themselves. Not that I blame them at all. I mean…just look at him.

But still, disillusioned. That's what they all are. They'll never have more than what they see because Dean? He's mine and Sammy's. End of story.

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 200

theatrical_muse application

So there’s this one girl – the only girl apart from me that my Dean’s ever opened up to, ever let it – and she totally broke his heart, called him crazy and slammed the door on him when all he’d done was tell her the truth. Can you believe it? She was a real bitch. But…wait, this is about my fight against that killer truck rather than my issues with this stuck up cow….

Anyway, so she tore Dean’s heart out, stomped all over it because he was, according to her, a nut job – and then has the gall to call him when her daddy dies just because she thinks something “supernatural” is up. I thought that? That right there? Was supernatural in itself – that someone would have the nerve to…. Anyway.

It turns out her daddy and his friends did something unseemly themselves to some nasty man who’s come back as an even nastier ghost. Better than that, the man had this black truck he used to cart dead people off him, and he’d been buried with it. Or, well, pushed into a bog with it. But whatever happened, the ghost was freaking attached to it. Burnin’ the body did nothing but piss Mr. Killer Truck off. So there’s me, Dean and Sammy facing off this monster of a thing that isn’t “corporeal” (as Sammy’d put it), and Dean hops into me, revs me up and speeds off.

It’s an absolutely wild chase. Seriously. Swerving and speeding off with this killer truck up our asses, and Dean’s always been an amazing driver – and it’s him and me against this monster truck and ghost driver – and we’re totally kicking their fugly behinds. Really, we are. And Dean’s yelling into the phone at Sammy and Sam’s muttering instructions, and then we’re coming to a stop.

And then we’re staring at it, and it’s staring at us like some freaking western, all engines revving and ready to go – and man, I was totally ready for it. I totally had a plan.

Never had to use it though, because Sammy’s a little geek and thought his whole “it’s church ground and it’ll dispel evil thing” was a brilliant idea. Okay, so it worked but that still doesn’t say anything for the fact that he never even considered what would happen to me and my Dean if it hadn’t, okay?

Against me and my Dean? Hell, no killer truck and his ghost even had a chance.

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 411

for creative_muses

Thought it’d be another day, y’know? Same as always. Agatha’d walk past me a few times when going to get the paper and mail or coming out to see if little Suzie down the street wanted anything, and I’d just sit there and watch everything else in the world, snails included, speed past me.

But no. Shocking as it was, grandma had a visitor and it wasn’t someone from the street. This man walks up the path, looks over me appraisingly and then disappears inside. A little while later and he’s back, opening my doors, poking around the trunk, popping the hood and poking around there (and there ain’t no one been in there for ages) – and all whistling and looking impressed and I’m thinking, “Finally, someone who can appreciate my beauty.”

A couple of days later and this guy’s in my driving seat speeding along some highway I’ve never seen before and I’m finally feeling like a car again. Almost forgot what it was like to actually feel like that, y’know? Sitting around or being taken out for the weekly shopping trips isn’t exactly what we’re made for.

John’s this guy’s name. John Winchester, and there’s this girl he’s courting – and the girl fucking loves classic cars.

Now, don’t get me wrong, John and Mary were wonderful to me. Really, they were. But that’s not where this story’s going, and I’ll bet you all knew that already.

Some time passes and Mary gets pregnant.

And then they bring home the most gorgeous little baby I’ve ever seen. And that’s when my life really began, see? The first time they strapped his car seat in and he gurgled, waved his arms and legs happily as his daddy sped him off home? That’s when I fell in love – and I swore I’d protect him until the day my engine died.

He grew up in my seats, him and little Sammy, grew up all gorgeous too. First time he slipped into the driver’s seat instead of John, I thought, “Well shit. When did my Dean get so big?” And man did he drive me unlike anyone else had or what?

The day John handed over the keys for good, and Dean started filling up that trunk with his things, plugging his cassette tapes in, was the day it all became clear: everything from the time I came off that belt to that very moment had just been the preparation for this life. It was the day I’d been waiting for all this time.

Oh yes. It was meant to be. Dean and me – and now, sometimes, little Sammy – on the road going everywhere and nowhere at all. Exactly how it should be.

~

Muse: Impala Winchester
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 450

Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “but that’s a car. Cars can’t talk.”

Don’t be so judgmental.

I’m not “just a car”. I’m Dean’s baby, okay? The ’67 Chevy Impala of legend – that’s me. And, as my Dean’ll tell you, I have a soul so don’t give me any of that attitude. Sam gives it to me enough for all of you.

You’d think, what with growing up in me and all, he’d be a little more polite when talking to me. But no, he’s little Sammy – same as always. Never did learn to respect his elders.

But really, he’s just jealous because my Dean pays more attention to me than to him. Same as always.

See, before I came to belong to Dean, I was this old lady’s shopping car. Yeah, you heard me: a beautiful masterpiece like me, and this old grandma only ever drove me down the street to the shop and back.

And then John bought me – but, really, he was just holding onto me until the love of my life was old enough to own me, and didn’t he grow up so big and so beautiful, huh? But tough luck, ladies, he’s taken. I’m the only girl in his heart and nothing’s gonna change that.

Anyway, as long as you don’t try and take my Dean from me, I’m nice. Really I am. I’ll even share embarrassing stories of Sammy’s childhood if you’re real good to me.

[OOC: Yes...this is the Impala. Dean's precious little girl. Yeah...I know. She's a car. And a damn smug, gorgeous one at that. So play nice or she'll run you over ;)]

Impala Winchester was sadly rejected over on elite_muses since she's an inanimate object and is therefore impractical for RP.

She was very sad so I applied her to creative_muses, which is where she will be playing from now on :D

She's a very friendly little thing, however, so feel free to drop by and chat whenever, wherever you've come from!

for elite_muses

The fact that they stopped making good cars like me? Because, seriously, those things that they try to pass as cars nowadays are really ruining the name of the very creation that we are. Perfect and sleek and strong…and those things, Christ, what the fuck are they meant to be anyway? They look all dumpy and, dude, seriously fugly and one tiny little bump and bam! There's a dent in them. I'm so glad my Dean has better taste than to exchange me for one of those ridiculous things. They could never make him happy and they couldn't protect him. Not like I can.

I mean, it's nice to be rare and sought after, collectors' items and all that shit. It really is nice to actually be valued like we should be. But seriously, how did they go from making me and my family to…to…those Honda Jazz things they're trying to pass as the "best choice" for a ride these days?

Yeah, definitely. If I could change one thing in history, I'd make sure they never stopped making real cars.

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 180

for elite_muses

You know everyone - and everything, as a matter of fact - dreams of freedom and speed. When I was a child, that's what I dreamt of. I remember days spent sitting in a garage, twiddling my wheels, just waiting for some action. I'd see other cars - cars not even as well made as me - whizzing past outside, wonderfully loud music blasting from their speakers and I'd think I wish that were me. I could have done that. I would have been better than all of them.

But no, Agatha, as my owner at that time was called, didn't do speed. Hell, she didn't do anything at all.

Once a week, she'd stick the keys into the ignition, pull out of her garage and drive so slow that minivan of Bobby's that my poor Dean had to drive when I was out of action could probably have overtaken me. She'd just drive me through her little neighbourhood, listening to some weird shit I wouldn't even call music, round the corner to the store, where she picked up her groceries and then drive me home again.

I dreamt of long stretches of highways, of my engine purring as I did what cars like me were made to do: go fast and just keep going, seeing the world, y'know?

That dream stayed with me - but, really, I don't need it anymore. Why would I need a memory of a dream when my Dean's made it all come true?

~

Muse: The Impala
Fandom: Supernatural
Word Count: 224