Writer. User of sarcasm. Artist, actress, shower-singer and, most importantly, fangirl. Multifandom with a large dose of Supernatural and an unhealthy obsession with Death the Kid. If you don't ship Destiel, my blog will probably make you uncomfortable. Prone to random photospams. I don't tag spoilers, and this blog is occasionally NSFW. Don't be afraid to talk to me; the biggest danger is that I'll hit you with a flailing limb.
I have a story.
I had annual testing today, and it was a pretty big deal because it basically
is supposed to determine my level of competency and my ability to move on in school. I didn’t have high hopes, but I actually did pretty well, aside from math. Anyway, my mom and I went out to celebrate afterwards by going to Cook Out (which, in case you don’t know, is one of the less-disgusting chain restaurants in America. Or maybe just Southeast America, since I don’t know how far they’re spread out). We went inside and ordered, and then stood off to the side - but we somehow still managed to be in the way - and waited for our food to be ready.
That’s when I saw him.
THE DESTIEL LOVECHILD.
It took me a minute to notice him; of course I knew there was a baby a foot in front of me, but I don’t tend to inspect people’s children in restaurant lines. But once I looked at him, I had a really hard time not flipping out. He had the bluest eyes and short blondish-brown hair that I swear was the exact color of Dean’s, and he was looking around the room. Not just randomly staring, but actually looking at things and noticing them, and this little boy couldn’t have been older than a year but I swear, he was perceptive. He just kind of looked at me for a minute. I may have made him a little uncomfortable with my expression of slack-jawed surprise, but it wasn’t intentional.
Also, I’m pretty sure his shirt said angel on it. And he cocked his head to the side.
Guys, I am 89784762067000000000000% done.