“On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville — a blue two-door Caprice. There was a big ceremony, speeches; the lieutenant governor even showed up.
“Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car — no, the most important object — in pretty much the whole universe.”
Warnings: Body shaming, derogatory terms directed toward a plus-sized reader, drinking, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, smut, nsfw
Author’s Notes: Written for two challenges: @winchester-writes Drinking Writing Challenge. My drink was Glenfiddich Scotch and my prompt was “What is everyone staring at?!” and @butiaintgonnaloveem Baby’s Big 50 Writing Challenge. My song was Get Out of My Dreams, Get Into My Car by Billy Ocean. Thank you to @feelmyroarrrr for the amazing idea. This wouldn’t have been possible without my bestie, @mamapeterson and her support, encouragement and words. Love you, T.
“If a man can bridge the gap between life and death, I mean if he can live on after he’s died, then maybe he was a great man. When they talk about success, they talk about reaching the top. Well, there is no top. You’ve got to go on and on, never stop at any point. To me, the only success, the only greatness for man is immortality. To have your work remembered in history, to leave something in this world that will last for centuries - that’s greatness.”
Happy Birthday, James Byron Dean (8th February 1931 - ∞)
since it is your 39th birthday today. I not only hope you’ll spend a wonderful day with your loved ones and are able to enjoy a tasty birthday cake, but also wanted to use that opportunity to thank you.
Thank you for giving us Dean Winchester. For making him such a well rounded and real feeling character with edges and flaws.
Thank you for putting so much emotion into your performance and managing to move us with just a lip quiver, a certain look in your eyes or one silent tear.
Thank you for being able to convey so much with so little and sometimes achieve the most impact that way. Not with grand gestures but with small but important moves.
Thank you for being true to yourself, for not letting any kind of fame get to your head but remaining beautifully down to earth.
Thank you for being goofy and not taking yourself too seriously, for knowing how to make fun and laugh about yourself.
Thank you for sharing tiny bits of your daily and family life with us here and there - it’s by no means something anyone should take for granted or see as a given or something to be expected. Thank you for that, it’s a sign of trust you have in the fandom and I hope many people will treat it as such - a gift and as something special.
Thank you for doing conventions. For sharing your views and headcanons on the show and Dean Winchester as a character in panels or meet greets.
Thank you for managing to make everyone feel welcome when taking a picture with you and trying to lessen the tension and nervousness.
Thank you for hugs, for funny stories and for your voice. Thank you for being able to embrace standing on stage and singing for and with us and enjoying it! Just between us: You’re doing one hell of a job! And we appreciate it so so much! Thank you for letting us have a good time together!
Happy birthday, Mr. Jensen Ackles. If I could I’d hand over an Emmy for you as a birthday present, because you would have deserved to get one for your acting a few times by now. So Mr. Ackles, have a wonderful and hopefully sunny day, have a slice of pie for your “alter ego” Dean Winchester too. He has had way too little time to devour some himself lately! Keep up your good work and stay true to yourself!
I and many others sure love you for exactly who your are!
Kisses pressed to the knob of your spine and across your shoulder roused you from your peaceful sleep.
You hummed contentedly, letting your eyes flutter open to take in the dim light of your bedroom in the morning, the small windows at the top of your walls doing their best to let natural light flood the room.
“Happy Birthday, babe,” you murmured as Sam rolled you onto your back, kissing your exposed collarbone. “You’re old, now.”
He laughed softly, pulling back and smiling down at you.