What If God Came Own, Said Its Pronounced 'bibble' And Went Back Up. What Then Huh

Can you tell me how I can improve?

when she says she doesn’t send nudes

i be putting the carbon in carbonara

lol parents and grandparents blaming the next generation is literally the most frequently occuring phenomenon in this house

lmao im also pretty sure there are other fast food options than mac donalds. 'takes a nation-wide effort' why don't you start with yourself first? is there nothing but mac d in your country? when america makes a bad decision, the rest of the world suffers for it. all your money goes into bombing other countries, which is why you're so poor, yet not a single one of you has even tried, minutely, to stop this from happening. the worst part is this has been going on for years but none of you really give a shit, atleast not enough to stop it.

it's so fucking funny to see yankees talk about how they're gonna bring a revolution and change their country and help each other because #community. you guys couldn't even boycott mcdonalds.

normalize being the backup friend. some of us are just the wheels mounted on the backs of those suvs.

hottest thing a man can do is respect women

At the Knife's Edge

Castiel is... strange, thinks Dean. So stuffy and formal. So small.

You wouldn't think he was an angel. At all, really. Dean didn't, either, until Cas pushed him to his knees in a rainy, dirty, alley, knife to Dean's throat.

Not just any knife. Castiel's angel blade.

He wanted to laugh, to cry, but all he did was beg. And even if Dean's faced powerful creatures before, if you'd seen Castiel in that moment, you wouldn't have begged. You would've gone mad.

All six eyes on display, with white fangs and monstrous wings- and this is what Dean finds funny. All those cathedrals with fat white babies with the fluffy wings too small for their bodies. But Cas's wings? They're black , metallic and each feather is a long blade, glimmering in the streetlight. Deadly was an understatement. All his eyes stare at Dean, and strings of grace waft away from Castiel's body, wrapping Dean up, caressing.

Loving.

And then there's the knife to his throat.

His eyes return slowly to their blue, and the knife drops, and Cas heals him with the ridiculously gentle touch. How does he do it?

Dean notices, for the first time, that there seems to be a ring of light behind his head. The wings are still there, now feathery, and one brushes against his cheek, softer than silk sheets.

Coffee. At the airport.