#politeasshole

[gusto0419]

My address is 334 South Beach Street. So when I got off of work, and checked my mail finding this. I had to let then know they got this wrong. Politely but in a smartass kinda way. Lmao #NoFucksGiven #IGiveNoFucks #PoliteAsshole #GetYourShitRight

[politeasshole89]

Tshirts

ok guys i got my t shirts shop so go support the dude and shop till u drop. i have a lot coming.i just started so bear with me. and i don't control the priceshttp://politeasshole.spreadshirt.com/

[washupfortheorgy-blog]

Shadows I Despise

He was exhausted, and more than that he was pissed. Castiel wasn't the sort to get angry over small things, being a being of several millennia often came with patience but his was wearing thin lately. He wanted to believe it was honestly just Dean's distrust and Jo's desires he was tired with bit it so much more. It was....all of it. The ex-angel was tired of the humans. He was tired of bending over backwards for them to help them cling to the skin of this Earth while Lucifer sent his minions across the land to burn them all out, and neither side seemed to be making any progress anymore. A standstill at the end of the world...

Castiel didn't return to his own cabin, the girls still frequented it and he really did want to make good on his word to Meg. Or Meg's words to him. Whichever, he still didn't intend to get the innocents killed because of his libido. Instead he made his way to the vacant cabins, preferring to be alone at this moment. He could leave the camp and seek out Meg....but twice in one day seemed excessive, someone would surely find out if he kept sneaking out so often. So instead he'd go and fume alone in his favorite cabin. Favorite in that he knew there was a bottle of aged scotch hiding in one of the floor boards, and that it was always the last to be occupied because of the draft it always seemed to acquire. Dean and Castiel themselves had both wracked their brains trying to make it as livable as possible but neither were carpenters and instead they'd just let the old cabin rot and fall into disrepair. Whatever, it wasn't like they were ever going to need it, right?

He gets the door open with some difficulty...either the building has shifted and now the door jam is slightly off set or someone is actually trying to keep it closed from the other side. Castiel slams against the door with the side of his body, finally getting it open enough he can shimmy in the crack. When he looks around the door he finds some crates of old blankets stacked up against the other side of the door. He gives them a puzzled look, then looks around the room for any oddities.

And of course there's a big one sitting in the centre of the room drinking.

Castiel's eye squint as his mouth opens to ask a question, his finger raised like a pupil in class. He finally decides that, no, he doesn't want to know and instead just shakes his head. "No. I'm just going to kill you." He says surprisingly calmly as he shrugs and clears his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. After a long moment of staring at the ground Castiel finally looks up, anger written all over his face. "IS THERE A FUCKING SIGN THAT SAYS 'DEMON'S ENTRANCE'?"