Waking up in the middle of the night and realizing you still have time to sleep
people who hate on misha collins make me so fucking angry. there’s no fucking reason for it. honestly, he is what i hope to be in 20 years time.
he’s a poor kid from a broken family that fucking made it, and made it huge and cares and giving back in every way he fucking can and in ways he doesn’t even fucking know. he loves his fans. he tries so fucking hard. he is so damn humble.
don’t you dare shit on misha collins.
BITCH I WILL FUCKING CUT YOU
YOU’VE ANGERED THE WRONG FANDOM
You’re going down punk, just you FUCKNG WAIT!! You will learn that this fandom is far worse than you will ever want to know. We may seem soft and shy, but we’re just being NICE! We can be cold, cruel, mean, and make you suffer and wish you had never said what you said. We can send you into the farthest most empty reaches of the galaxy, summon demons to our disposal to make you suffer, and make you feel the feelings that we experience, and don’t fucking think for a single goddamn second that’s easy! The amount of emotions that would boil inside of you would literally kill you. So keep your motherfucking distance and we won’t hurt you, so stay the hell back, asshole. If you so much as insult us one more time, we will bring firey hell upon you and bitch slap you into oblivion. Your move, dildo.
We know how to kill a human and hide the evidence. Your body will never be found, and that is a promise.
You do realize a majority of the fandom are 20 somethings right? or at least in college. We can find you, kill you, and make it look like you killed yourself. Don’t try us :)
We can exorcise a demon from you faster than Dean and Sam, believe me you need it.
We can toss you into a supernova, never to be seen again, or banish you to the end of the universe where you would explode to create a new one.
We can murder you and destroy all evidence of you ever existing.
i say “fight me” a lot for a girl who is 5”3’ and has a hard time opening some doors because they’re too heavy
This was meant to be a quick warm up, but it turned into a comic that I’ve wanted to draw for a while. This is something that is extremely important to me, and I appreciate it if you read it.
A while ago, I heard a story that broke my heart. A family went a cat shelter to adopt. The daughter fell in love with a 3-legged cat. The father straight up said “absolutely not”. Because he was missing a leg. That cat was that close to having a family that loved him, but the missing leg held him back. Why?!
Many people have the initial instinct of “nope” when they see an imperfect animal. I get it, but less-adoptable does NOT mean less loveable. 9 out of 10 people will choose a kitten over an adult cat. And those 10% that would get an adult cat often overlook “different” animals.
All I want people to do is be open to the idea of having a “different” pet in their lives. Choose the pet that you fall in love with, but at least give all of them a fair shot at winning your heart.
Don’t dismiss them, they deserve a loving home just as much as any other cat. They still purr, they still love a warm lap, they still play, they still love you. Trust me, next time you are in the market for a new kitty, just go over to that one cat that’s missing an eye and see what he’s all about!
Let me tell to you a thing.
This is Lenore. I first saw her in a little cage at the Petco I frequent (I used to take my parents’ dog in for puppy play time), and she looked like the grouchiest, old, crotchety cat in the world, and I fell instantly in love. She was cranky, she was anti-social, hanging out at the back of her cage. Her fur was matted because she wouldn’t let the groomers near her.
She was perfect.
But I didn’t have a place for her. I wasn’t living in my own space yet, and where I was, I wasn’t allowed cats. So I pressed my face to the bars of her cage and I promised that if no one had adopted her by the time I’d bought a house, I would come back for her.
I visited her every week for over six months while I looked for a house. At one point, they had to just shave her entire rear-end because the mats or fur were so bad. They told me she clawed the heck outta the groomer that did it, screamed the entire time, and spent the next two days growling at anyone that came near the cage.
A couple of weeks later, I closed on my house. I went back and I got an employee, and I said: “That one. I need that cat.”
They got the paperwork and the lady who ran the rescue that was bringing the cats in told me that Lenore (at the time, Lila) was 8 years old, had been owned by an elderly lady who had died, and brought in to a different rescue, who’d had her for six months on top of the time I’d been seeing her at Petco.
This kitty had been living in a 3x3’ cube for over a YEAR because she was older and “less adoptable.”
I signed the paperwork, put her in a cat carrier, and drove her to my new home. I had pretty much nothing; a bed, an old couch, a couple of bookcases, and a tank of mice I called “Cat TV”. I let her out of the carrier and onto my bed, and I told her “I told you I would come back for you when I had a place. It’s not much, but it’s yours too now.”
Lenore spent the next three days straight purring non-stop. She followed me around the house purring. Sat next to me purring. Slept next to me purring. Leaning into every touch, purring, purring, always purring. She still purrs if you so much as think about petting her. She’s amazing, and I love her.
So, you know, if you’re thinking about adopting, and you see a beast that others consider “less adoptable,” think about Lenore.
The STORY THOUGH.