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 🙂
Shut up. 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. Basically- D-O-N-T-C-R-O-S-S-U-S
This is like finding a lost family heirloom you’ve been hearing about
Samson was “a museum installation consisting of a 100-ton jack connected to a gear box and a turnstile. The 100-ton jack pushes two large timbers against the bearing walls of the museum. Each visitor to the museum must pass through the turnstile in order to see the exhibition. Each input on the turnstile ever so slightly expands the jack, and ultimately if enough people visit the exhibition, Samson could theoretically destroy the building.”
Artists are absolutely wild
That’s absolutely hilarious ngl
Bet the museum employees are secretly winding it back each night, like Penelope unraveling her day’s weaving
If I'm your savior, then you're mine. 