The teacher said ‘hit the lights’ and this kid punched the light switch and broke it
Lord of the Rings + Armor
Once Upon a Time meme | One Villain → The Evil Queen
Thanks taiomqt for the suggestion!
if you haven’t read a poem by Rosanna Warren you should probably fix that like right now
Being a responsible, fully-grown adult means being able to build a pillow fort whenever you want.
*texas gets a fucking centimeter of ice*
OKAY OKAy guys„, calm down„ , we must stay calm NEVERMIND EVERYONE PANI C SHut down thE SCHOOLS THE ROADS EVEN THE WHOLE FUC KING STATE THIS IS THE END OF LIFE AS WE KNOW IT.! 30 DEGREES???? ?? nO. texas must be HOT VERY HOT ALL THE TIME no snow NO SNOW ALLOWED!! ! everyONE STAY THE FUCK INSIDE WE WILL SURVI V E the A P O C A L Y P S E
this is the most accurate example of our snow days.
It’s been months since Sam’s had any sort of positive touches. Weeks and weeks building up where he’s so desperate for affection or attention of any kind that he lies in bed at night with his palms pressed flat against his stomach, thumb rubbing against his lowest rib, along the dip of his hipbones. He doesn’t even go lower than his waistband, he just wants to feel some sort of skin-on-skin contact, who cares if it’s sexual.
The night he finds out about Gadreel, the night he wakes up alone and terrified in a motel room, no way of knowing what city or even what state he’s in, Sam thinks the lack of human contact is going to make him collapse. Gadreel had taken another temporary vessel so he could leave Sam’s body and communicate with him like that, but Sam didn’t want to touch the angel that had been inhabiting him so grotesquely for the past few months, and Gadreel made it obvious he wanted to be out of there as quickly as possible anyway. So he left Sam alone and now Sam’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, shaking so hard he thinks he might throw up. He can’t look at himself, just at his hands, clenched white around the sink. Sound of his knee hitting the rusted drainpipe loud and echoing in the cramped space, and Sam’s sure he’s going to pass out.
He hears a voice behind him, low and familiar in a way that makes Sam’s entire body ache, and when he turns he’s facing—Lucifer. It’s not Lucifer in any vessel Sam recognizes, but Sam knows him instantly. Would know him anywhere, that curious tilt of his head, the way his eyes sharpen into focus and then soften in curiosity as they look Sam over. The patient, half-smile curving his lips at the corner.
The way his Grace, however dulled it might be, reaches out to Sam like a beacon, soothing over his soul and cooling down the fever inside him.
“Hello, Sam,” Lucifer says, quiet, and Sam punches him.