Imagine you’re Jensen and you can’t post a single solitary picture of yourself with a work friend among a group of other pictures - no more suggestive than hundreds of other pictures of you being physically close to various coworkers, friends, and even fans?  Without a pack of maniacal depraved hyenas showing up to violently and conspicuously publicly masturbate over the idea of you touching any wrinkly, shriveled up old dick that gets within 6 feet of you they want to project onto.  Yikes yikes yikes. 

And they wonder why 99% of the time they have to ask pointed leading questions to get Jensen to even acknowledge Misha exists, let alone say anything remotely nice about him.  Well no, that’s not true actually, they don’t wonder - because all their brain power is concentrated on the hand they’ve got down their pants. 

Misha concentration in his pants...

Jensen concentration on Misha's pants...

Jensen making Misha concentrate on his pants.

Dude you discovered da PANTS GATE here.

You are right 😳😱

There are lot of hands on pants in this fandom, you should stop following or liking Jensen and Misha, and move away from this fandom if you are against pants awareness.

Because my werewolf name would be Ravenous Rain. Which is badass, but also alliteration heaven. So I got the idea— what if I did my full initials and added my middle name (using the first name column)?

Ravenous Rogue Rain.

IF YOU LOST ME IN A CROWD, WHAT ‘OFFENSIVE’ THING COULD YOU YELL THAT’D BE GUARANTEED TO TRACK ME DOWN? 

     The gasp heard ‘round the crowd was deep, drawn-out, and DRAMATIC. Pedestrians both young and old toppled over without warning, caught in a vicious human wake the Four Horsemen would’ve given a second look. 

     Brunnie loomed over Cupcake. Teeth were visible, nostrils flared wide, and brown eyes blazed with all the condemnation of Hellfire. 

     Buttons had been slammed.