#omgdean

[gaybaerey]

okay but like wtf happened to molly's fiancée

he and david moved in together to create a low budget indie version of bbc sherlock with meat daggers and no heteronormativity 

[highclassholmes]

hey guys ♥ omgdean >>>>> highclassholmes 

since one of my posts (unfortunately) got more popular than expected and has now made its way onto facebook and IG, i’m gonna chill with this URL for a little bit to lay low from people who may know me irl. my old url doesn’t redirect for obvious reasons, so i may reblog this post a couple of times just to let people know. 

[yafpot]

me VS my american friend. it didn’t come home lads 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿💔😭🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

[stitchedupkrissy-blog-blog]

Catching up on #supernatural and cuddling with my favorite #zombie mug. #fall #zombiemug #harneyandsons #holidaytea #omgdean #deanmon #demondean #gonnacry #thisshow #mylife #canthandlethis

[youreyesarelikestarlightnow]

caistiels tagged me to do the six-selfie challenge

(which actually was a challenge I had to screengrab one of these photos from the internet i don't take selfies often)

...and i'll tag dumplingdean, omgdean, and caswitch, but only if you want to?

[carelesspeach]

i love this

[catiemolly]

            Wanted: One Seraph to Save a Righteous Man

            Castiel read the words over and over. Perhaps this was his chance. He had always longed to break free from the monotony of his servitude. Most of his charges didn’t believe in him anymore and those that did rarely prayed to him directly. Most prayed to the more popular angels until the Angel of Thursday was all but forgotten.

            He had served the hosts of Heaven for millennia and he never questioned his orders, but somehow, this order, this mandate that an angel needed to save someone was one he actually wanted to follow.

            He placed his hand on the flyer and it turned to dust as he accepted his mission. Directions and warnings filled his head and suddenly he had his mission:

            Save Dean Winchester from Hell.

[highclassholmes]

highclassholmes >>> omgdean 

i knew i wouldn’t be able to stay away from this url for long at this point it’s a part of who i am 

[yafpot]

LOLLLL I GOT A WORK PLACEMENT AT THE GLOBE THEATRE SSHHH DONT TELL ANYONE 💯🙌🏻👯😘

[skyestiel]

ignite your bones

happy birthday, derya! I hope you like this as much as I do! (◡‿◡✿)

(3k words) post 9x23 prompt: "maybe something about how demon!dean is stripped from emotions so he doesn’t give a damn about cas? ouch" via (flightlesscas)

Basically, demon!Dean no longer feels emotions, but Cas feels pretty strongly about Dean... if you catch my drift. (ao3)

When Castiel saw Dean again, after two weeks of mourning his "death", things definitely didn't go as planned. As a matter of fact, nothing about the reunion played out the way Cas had imagined it would.

It was late at night when he received the phone call. He glanced down at his phone, Sam’s smiling face peering back at him from the screen, and lifted it to his ear. Before he even answered the call, he had a pretty good idea of what Sam would say to him.

“I’m sorry, Cas, but he’s gone.”

 “Metatron stabbed Dean… he’s dead.”

Or something to that effect.

“Hello, Sam,” he sighed, reluctant to even speak. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. He already knew that Dean was gone, and he’d rather not hear about it again, especially from the mouth of his heartbroken younger brother.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam greeted. The acknowledgement was far from cheerful, but something about his tone… it didn’t sound like the voice of a man who had just lost the person closest to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I think you should come here.” Sam’s voice lowered, whispering as if someone else was in the room with him, someone who shouldn’t be hearing their conversation.

“Why?” Cas wondered, his curiosity piqued.

“Because you… you just need to get your ass to the bunker. Right now. I don’t care how you do it, just please,” Sam pleaded, clearly desperate. He was still trying to whisper, but his voice rose just as he finished his brief plea. The tone was somewhat disturbing, especially considering Dean’s current state.

“Okay, but… okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Castiel was agreeing to something he probably shouldn’t be, but he did so anyway. He was doing it for Dean because, as he’d proved time and time again, he would do anything for him.

“Thanks,” Sam muttered, and the line went dead.

Castiel stared at the phone in horrified silence for several seconds before shoving it back in his coat pocket. What had he just done? Who knew what he would find there at the bunker. Maybe Sam wanted to find a way to bring Dean back to life, a feat that Cas certainly couldn’t accomplish. The last thing he wanted to do was look into Dean’s lifeless face and know there wasn’t a single thing he could do to save him. If not that, then maybe he wondered what had happened to Metatron, which, in that case, Cas would be able to provide him with a sufficient- although probably unsatisfactory- answer.

Hannah had been right about his grace. It was quickly depleting, and, if he wasn’t careful, he would soon die, like a light bulb, displaying its brilliant light once more before quickly fizzling out. But, with Dean gone, why should that matter? The only reason he had fought for his life in recent years was because of Dean, the righteous man who had served as a constant reminder of why he loved humanity as much as he did. Without him, he had no purpose, no reason to go on living.

So, without a second thought, he’d used his wings to take him to the bunker, as opposed to catching a bus. The move did a number on his grace, but he no longer cared.

In seconds, he was there, standing in the same room where he’d sat many times, engaging in multiple conversations with Dean, each one more heartbreaking than the last. The thought of never speaking with Dean ever again, never having the chance to show him how special he truly was, sickened Castiel. His voice had served as a source of tranquility in the past, along with his little reassuring touches and gentle smiles. Every gesture had always managed to calm Cas down. But, like Dean, that was all gone.

A sudden flash of pain shot through his skull, forcing him to lean against the massive table in the center of the room. Thankfully, it was sturdy and easily held the angel’s weak body. Castiel closed his eyes and inhaled. The pain wasn’t excruciating, though, and he managed to recover and straighten back up again before Sam walked into the room.

“Finally,” Sam drawled as he entered. He hadn’t seen Cas bent over the table, which the angel was certainly thankful for. The last thing he needed to do was give the poor man something else to worry about. He’d been through enough already, that was for sure.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked. He’d decided that the best thing to do was get straight to the point. He didn’t want to spend the next twenty minutes skirting around the subject, whatever it is that Sam had to tell him, and cut right to the chase.

“Cas… it’s… it’s Dean.”

Castiel felt his stomach drop. The spark of pain had reignited in his head, spreading to every inch of his deteriorating body. That name was like poison now, infecting his system with its false promises of compassion.

Dean.

Hello, Dean.  

Dean and I do share a more profound bond.

Dean, I always come when you call.

Dean Winchester is dead.

He recoiled, taking a step back. “He’s dead.”

Instead of agreeing with Castiel’s comment, Sam looked down. It was as if he were uncomfortable. But… why? Discussing a person’s death was generally unpleasant, yes, but Sam almost seemed guilty. Like he was hiding something from Cas.

“Sam… Dean is dead, isn’t he?” Castiel wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. If Dean were dead, like he should be, then Cas would continue to grieve. It wouldn’t be easy, and the suffering would be unbearable. But, if Dean were not dead, the implications were far worse. Because if he hadn’t died, he had surely become something else- something inhuman.

Sam reluctantly looked up, meeting Castiel’s frightened stare. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. The tension in the room had grown thicker, and Cas felt faint.

“Not exactly,” Sam mumbled, turning away once again.

Of course. Castiel wasn’t sure why he’d expected anything different. When one Winchester died, the other did whatever it took to bring them back to life. Whether it be instilling the help of a rogue angel or making a corrupt deal with a demon, they’d do it.

“Where is he?” Cas surprised himself by making that request first. He would save the lecture for later, after he’d seen the living and breathing Dean Winchester himself. He had to see the other man again before doing anything else.

“Um,” Sam muttered awkwardly. He clearly hadn’t been expecting Castiel’s response either. He gestured toward the door he had just come through. “I’ll take you to him.”

*

Castiel was an angel. He had seen and experienced a great deal in his ridiculously long life. He had watched the Roman Empire grow and collapse, observed the creation of the United States government, listened to thousands of moving speeches. But nothing could’ve prepared him for this moment.

Just by looking at Dean, you couldn’t tell that anything had changed. He appeared to be exactly the same. He still insisted on wearing multiple layers of plaid and leather and sported his worn denim jeans. The freckles had not disappeared, scattered across his cheekbones and nose. The little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the plush bow of his lips had remained unchanged. And, at this point in time at least, the emerald green eyes peered back at Castiel like they always had.

Dean smiled uncertainly. He was sitting on his bed, staring wearily up at Cas. He didn’t move to stand up and didn’t invite the angel over either. Instead, he just watched, silent and, undoubtedly, scared.

Castiel concluded that the penetrating stare was invitation enough and walked over to where Dean was seated, lowering himself into the spot next to the restless man. He didn’t speak at first, unsure as to what would be best at a time like this. Hesitantly, he turned to face the other man and did exactly what Deanhad been doing: Castiel watched.

Dean’s body was stiff, muscles taut as if he may bolt at any second. Any of the leftover softness in his facial features had hardened. Even before the change, Dean had the calloused hands and scars that came along with the hunter’s lifestyle. But now…

Dean’s brow furrowed, and he blinked. Suddenly, his human eyes, his absolutely beautiful eyes, were gone. Castiel now gazed into nothingness, the black, depthless voids of a demon.

Cas couldn’t stop the gasp from slipping past his lips. Dean didn’t seem bothered by it, though. He blinked several more times and began angrily scrubbing at his face, as if he had an eyelash or troublesome piece of lint in his eyes. When he finally stopped, his eyes had returned to normal.

The angel didn’t want to be afraid, to shy away from the irreplaceable man he had raised from perdition- he really didn’t. But it was too late. He had thought, as crazy as it may sound, that he’d saved Dean. That he had somehow rescued him, keeping him away from the fiery dungeons of hell once and for all. He was wrong. Dean wasn’t saved- he was doomed.

Castiel did the first thing that came to mind. If Sam had taught him one thing, it was that human contact could accomplish amazing things. So, he did what any frightened man would do in this situation. With a shaky exhale, he turned and threw his arms around Dean.

He tried to pull him close, still struggling to cope with the knowledge that it was highly unlikely he would hurt him. Although it wasn’t the same Dean he had come to care about, the familiar weight of his body and the barely audible “Cas” were enough to comfort him, even if only for a few seconds. He had missed this, this closeness they’d developed. It felt right.

“Dean, I… I need to tell you something,” Castiel croaked. He hated the way his voice broke, but he knew there was no way to stop it.

“And I need to tell you something, too,” Dean mumbled back. His response, although worded the same way, sounded different than Cas’s. He seemed completely unfazed by the confession that was about to surface. It worried Castiel, but he disregarded it for the time being.

“I don’t care, Dean. I don’t care if you’re a demon,” Cas insisted, pressing himself even closer, “I just- I want you. When I thought you were gone… I gave up. And I probably should be mad at you, but you’re- you’re alive.”

Dean said nothing. He allowed Castiel to cling to him, but didn’t reciprocate in any way. It was like the last time they had hugged, and nothing like the hug they’d shared in Purgatory. The realization hurt, but Cas was trying to make the most of the moment so, yet again, he ignored the information for now.

“But I noticed something else while you were gone, Dean, something very important.” Cas paused. He wanted to say it- he really wanted to say it. The deep and dark secret he had kept hidden for years was bubbling up in his throat, right at the tip of his tongue. But he didn’t voice it. A better idea, one that would ensure that Dean understood, had come to mind, and it was perfect.

Before Dean could interrupt- which Castiel doubted he would anyway- the angel leaned back, leaving only a few inches of space between he and Dean’s faces. Without a second thought concerning what he was about to do, Cas eagerly swallowed the hunter’s surprised gasp, pressing his lips hungrily to Dean’s, submerging himself in the euphoria and pleasure of the contact.

He could’ve stayed in that moment, with their bodies pressed together and lips brushing, for the rest of his existence. There was nothing else quite like it. He wondered how angels were able to avoid temptations such as this, the desire to touch and be touched. The intimate gesture was just another reminder, another reason why Castiel would accept mortality- if given the option- once his grace was gone.

But there was something off. Dean, the man who had always prided himself on being a ladies’ man, hadn’t moved a single inch since their lips had first touched. His body had stiffened, and, instead of returning the kiss, he just sat there.

Immediately, Cas pulled away. Dean blinked and the black nothingness was back, peering at Castiel’s horrified face. He couldn’t understand what went wrong. Even though Dean had never come out and said it explicitly, he’d dropped numerous little hints over the years that had indicated how much he cared for the angel. He had to feel something about the kiss.

And then it hit him: Dean no longer felt emotions. He was a demon now, and they simply couldn’t feel. Dean hadn’t held back because he was afraid or disgusted- he would never experience those sensations again. The warmth in Castiel’s chest, the shivers that had run down his spine, were things Dean wouldn’t comprehend. He couldn’t return the kiss because he didn’t feel the pleasure and love that went along with it.

“You… no.” Cas hated this. This was what true hopelessness felt like. The pain he’d experienced when he’d heard of Dean’s death was only the beginning. It paled in comparison to the ache in his chest now. Even if Dean had loved him before, that part of him had died, along with his humanity.

“I’m sorry,” Dean insisted. His eyes, those stupid eyes, were blank and depthless. Coupled with the apology, it was almost too much for Castiel to handle. He’s still Dean, he’s still Dean, he’s still Dean, the angel tried to convince himself.

That wasn’t true, though, was it? Dean no longer hungered for food-not even pie- or sex or alcohol. Those were the things that made him… him. Without any of those cravings, he was just a killing machine, hungry for the metallic scent of spilled blood and hideous crack of broken bones.

Castiel wouldn’t- couldn’t- let that happen. Dean had said they were family once, and, as a Winchester, he would do whatever it took to save him. If it meant being by his side at every moment, serving as the moral compass Dean no longer had, Cas would do just that. Or if it meant trying to bring back his humanity, sharing the comfort of human touch, Castiel would gladly take on that challenge, as well. Anything, anything you could imagine, Cas would try it.

“No, Dean, I’m sorry. I should’ve done something. If I had only shattered the tablet a few seconds earlier…”

Dean reached out and rested his hands on Castiel’s shoulders. He blinked several times like he’d done earlier, and, to Cas’s relief, his eyes returned to normal. Although the familiar green had only been gone for mere seconds, their absence had disturbed Cas. They were yet another part of Dean that would never be the same again.

“It’s not your fault,” Dean explained. He tried to smile, but it looked painful and forced. Cas appreciated the effort, nevertheless, and smiled back. “I’m the dumbass that accepted the Mark. I’m the dumbass who kept the”- he shuddered- “the First Blade. You didn’t do anything wrong. Plus, you took care of Metatron, right?”

Castiel had completely forgotten about Metatron. The mention of his name, however, rekindled the furious rage Cas had felt at the sight of the blood-stained angel blade in the monster’s hand. He swallowed and struggled to maintain his weak smile.

“I didn’t kill him, but I imprisoned him. He’s not going anywhere.”

Dean didn’t seem thrilled by the concept of letting Metatron live, but he nodded his head in agreement anyway. His hands had yet to move from Castiel’s shoulders. The weight was nice and made the angel feel grounded. Even if Dean was a demon now, Cas felt at home when they were together.

“Well, at least he’s not raising hell anymore,” Dean decided, sighing loudly.

Silence suddenly filled the room, thick and foreboding. Castiel glanced down at Dean’s hands, tracing the long lines of the hunter’s fingers with his gaze. They fit well where they were, sliding down to grasp the angel’s biceps. When he looked back up, Dean was blinking frantically for what felt like the hundredth time since Cas had joined him. They were wide, beautiful, and green when they met Castiel’s, though, and for that, he was thankful.

“I wish… I wish that I could be the guy you deserve, Cas.”

Dean sounded broken when he finally spoke. Strangely, the confession didn’t sound like something a demon would say. The thought sparked a tiny, hopeful fire in Castiel’s heart. It may not be perfect, but it was a start. Cas could work with that.

Carefully, he raised his arms and rested his hands on either side of Dean’s face, holding it as if it were a fragile object he feared might break at any moment. He rubbed the pads of his thumbs along the soft skin beneath each of Dean’s eyes, silently thanking God- or whatever higher power they may be- for the color in his irises instead of the horrifying black.

He loved this man. He loved everything about him, every fault and quirk, every crack and fissure. There was no one else in the world he would trade for this broken man- rather, demon- before him. He meant what he’d said: he didn’t care what Dean had become. It was just another flaw, nothing more.

Cas leaned forward and, ever so softly, placed a kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth. He lingered there for a few blissful moments before pulling away but kept his hands firmly in place. He looked right into Dean’s eyes- his human eyes- and, with every ounce of confidence he had left, he spoke.

“I will fix you, Dean Winchester. I’ve done it once, and I can do it again.”

[youreyesarelikestarlightnow]

Oooh gosh it's been a while since I've written some blind!Cas. This is just some short, kind of vauge, stuff about Cas and how he became blind, but hopefully more to come?

first | previous | next (?) | AO3

At night, Castiel dreams in color.

Including his nightmares.

The sky is a brilliant blue, bluer than he has ever imagined, so blue it seems almost pulsing and alive. Everything—the leaves on the tree, his neighbor's roof, the white picket fence—is vibrant and full of color, so much so that it hurts his eyes and he feels the need to look away.

His hands clutch at the window sill and he forces himself to take it in. When he was younger, he used to look to the sky and the wispy white clouds and wish he could fly. That was always what he thought about when he blew dandelion seeds in the backyard, picking through the weeds until his mother noticed and gently scolded him back inside. It feels like another lifetime, spending afternoons imagining what it would be like to fly, never tiring, never falling, just going on and on and on and on—

Something is wrong. Something in the air tickles his nose, bitter and wrong. He squints skyward again and the sun's glare smarts his eyes, turning the colors blurry and violently harsh. They start caging him in, angrily, mockingly. He turns away, pressing his hands against his eyes, sweat beading on the back of his neck as his head starts to throb. The colors push him against the wall of his bedroom and he doubles over, clenching his eyes shut in desperate search of that cool quiet relief of darkness.

When he opens them again, all he sees red. Reds and oranges and yellows, the walls going up in flames, that smell of trickling gray smoke suffocating his lungs. He shields his eyes, fifteen years old again and confused, lost, his clothes melting into his skin as his vision swims with tears and ash. His back hits the wall and he stumbles against it, looking for an escape, trying to yell for help against the dry air.

A slice of sunlight pierces the air from the window.

And then he's falling—no, flying. The wind whistles through his hair and all he can see is the bright blue sky above him. Laughter bubbles at his lips before the blood red pain blisters through his head.

"Cas? Cas!"

Someone yells at him through the fog and the pain disappears, but he can't see who it is. He turns about wildly, arms flailing until they come in contact with something—someone—warm and soft and awake.

Cas is awake.

Dean's hands softly knead his shoulders and he murmurs gentle nothings in Cas' ear, pulling until both of them are laying down again. Cas can hear his own breathing evening out and he squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the moisture that beads and rolls down his temple. He presses closer to Dean, thankful that he doesn't ask, hasn't asked yet why Cas has his nights like this, when he wakes up at God-knows-what in the morning, memories scorched behind his utterly useless eyes.

He'll tell him soon.

In the morning.

For now, there's only Dean and the peaceful darkness of sleep.

[catiemolly]

Because I rewatched the TSA shorts and felt this needed to be done

            “Never flown before,” Dean told the woman behind him in line, “the thought of it kind of terrifies me, but ya can’t drive to Hawaii.”

            “Ticket and ID please,” the lady behind the counter asked. Dean produced the items and handed them over. He was moved ahead to the detectors and instructed to remove his shoes and belt. “I’d rather not,” he told the agent.

            “Opt out,” she yelled, “male assist!”

            “Now I’m going to tell you where I’m going to touch you before I touch you and I will use the back of my hands for all sensitive areas.”

            “Dude, I’m not getting felt up by some dude in the middle of an airport.”

            “Sir, if you could calm down this will just take a second.”

            “No, screw that, I don’t need this.”

            The agent sighed before calling out, “private pat down!”

            Dean just stared at the man as he gestured toward a door. “right this way, sir.”

            Dean awkwardly followed the man through the door and stood in the middle of the small room.

            “You wanna drink?” the agent asked, large but graceful hands pulling a plastic cup from a cart, “you seem like a whisky man.”

            “Yeah, sure,” Dean said. The man poured him his drink and handed it over, blue eyes locking onto his.

            “First time flying?” he asked.

            “Yeah, I’m a little nervous,” Dean admitted with a laugh.

            “Don’t be, air travel is one of the safest modes of transportation,” the agent assured him. “I’m Cas, by the way,” he offered Dean his hand and Dean shook it, ignoring the jolt that went through him as they touched. “Where you from?”

            “Kansas, originally,” Dean said, not sure why he felt the need to tell this stranger anything, “bit of a nomad at the moment.”

            “That’s alright,” Cas said, moving behind Dean, “don’t have a family to keep you tied to one spot?”

            He gently lifted Dean’s arms, and it was suddenly very hard for him to think. “Got a brother, but he’s got his own life, ya know?”

            “Just gonna check your arms and shoulders,” Cas said, running his hands along Dean’s arms, “Are you two close?”

            “Yeah,” Dean answered, “you kinda have to be when you’re all the other has.”

            “Back,” Cas warned before smoothing down Dean’s back, “what about your parents?”

            Dean felt like the man was a little too close to be strictly professional, but he couldn’t bring himself to complain. “Mom died and dad was a drunk, I was always told to look after Sammy, more often than not, I was protecting him from the old man.”

            “Sensitive area,” Cas said, before running the backs of his hands along the inside and backs of Dean’s legs. Dean jumped a bit but recovered. “Well he seemed to turn out alright,” Cas said, standing up and walking to Dean’s front.

            “Yeah, kid’s a lawyer,” he said, “I’d say that’s alright.”

            Cas was standing very close and Dean was having a hard time breathing. “I’m going to pat down your chest now,” he said.

            “Okay,” Dean nodded and the other man touched his chest, using the backs of his hand over his nipples. He moved his hands down over his stomach and then reached behind and patted his ass.

            Dean jumped again. “My apologies,” Cas said, “I just realized I forgot that area. I’m going to undo your belt and place two fingers in your waistband.”

            Dean nodded, his mouth too dry to speak. When Cas’s fingers skimmed the top of his pubic bone he felt blood rush to his cock and he tried willing it away, but then Cas’s hands were in the back of his pants and pulling him closer. Their faces were inches apart and it would be so easy to just lean in and kiss the man. Dean closed his eyes and leaned forward just as Cas removed his fingers and yelled, “All clear!”

            Cas left the room and Dean followed after refastening his belt. He stood in the terminal, watching as the other man responded to another call for a male assist and wondered where the hell those feelings and sensations had come from and wishing he could have had just one more minute with the agent.

[idijt-blog]

"It's like a more intense version of mini golf." now i'm just imagining someone whispering "hole in one" when they do the do and i can't stop laughing oh my god

HOLY SHIT DONT LOOK AT ME I CANNOT STOP LAUGHING I PLAN ON WHISPERING THAT

no more sexy times stories

blacklist “the frick frack”

[yafpot]

IM FEELING PRETTY YAY DRESS TIME SUMMER YAY

[queercas]

oh my gosh you're gorgeous

[stupidfortherightreasons]

I was tagged by

falling-for-destiel

Rule 1: Always post the rules. Rule 2: Answer the questions the person who tagged you asked and write 11 new ones. Rule 3: Tag 11 people and link them to the post. Rule 4: Actually tell them you tagged them

I got asked:

What is your favorite word? (I thought this said what is your safe word and I was like WHAAAAAT???) Umm... Incognito. It reminds me of spys and it's fun to say. Especially with a Chinese accent.

If you could live in any other time period when would it be? Why? Sometime in the future. Because hopefully by then, all these political problems won't be as much of an issue (OOOH GIRL DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON HOW MUCH POLITICS MAKE ME ANGRY IN TODAY'S SOCIETY)

What is something you wish you could change about yourself? (Physical or Personality) My teeth and voice.

Who is your celebrity crush? Oh good lord don't even get me started. Misha Collins. Dylan O'brien. Cameron Monaghan.

If you could chose a different name for yourself what would it be? Emma because I've loved the name since I was a wee baby.

What is your biggest pet peeve? PEOPLE NOT USING THEIR GOD DAMN BLINKER WHEN TURNING OR SWITCHING LANES!!!

If you could go back in time and change one thing from your past what would you change? Too damn many things to choose from.

If you could live anywhere where would you want to live and why? Box Elder SD. My best friend moved away and now lives there and I misses her.

Name one thing you love about Tumblr It is like, fandom-topia.

Name one thing you hate about Tumblr All the drama that happens sometimes... GOOD LORD ALMIGHTY!

What is an invention you wished existed? Cloning Machine. So I could clone myself and make clone go to school for me then when it's done with school we do this memory import and I get all the knowledge without actually doing any work.

My questions:

How much wood would a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?

If you could live in a fictional world, which would would it be?

If you could be anyone or anything ever, who would you be?

If you had a million dollars, how would you spend it?

Favorite fictional character?

Favorite Holiday? Why?

 If you could have lunch with 5 people dead or alive who would it be?

What is your personal theme song?

Guilty Pleasures?

Do you miss your life before tumblr?

This is the most important one... Ready... WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF COOKIE?

I am going to tag:

imaginotaur

mellowlioness

tobysinmycloset

belieber8797

chicago-style-death

two-winchesters-and-castiel

deanbobean

canweumqra

destielhallow

castieljust

omgdean