there are 2 songs that have 100 beats per minute which is the correct amount for cpr and they are “staying alive” and “another one bites the dust” and if u don’t think that’s the rawest shit you’ve ever heard you can unfollow me right now.
(Source: bifury, via mrsclaustobe)
I hate it when people say ‘I never judge anyone’. You’re lying. You do. Everyone does. It’s instinctive. ‘I like her hair’ is a judgement. ‘Those were an odd choice of shoes for a hike’ is a judgement. Everything we ever think about another person, positive or negative, is a judgement. What you mean is ‘I never treat anyone differently based on my judgements’.
If Martin Freeman was the next companion
Martin: [about the TARDIS] What the fuck is that?
12th Doctor: Come the fuck in, or fuck the fuck off.
i didn’t know I needed this until now.
(Source: benedictedcumberbabeof221, via thedoctorsinslytherin)
I really want to upload this fanfic in chapters but I need to make myself finish it before I start uploading it because I know I won’t finish it if I do it that way…
ohpawler replied to your post: need to write this down. So I’m …
What a brat. You’re awesome!
He’s such a brat! Thank you. Pretty sure he just can’t handle the awesome ;)
sandbar11 replied to your post: need to write this down. So I’m …
He hates the situation you two are put in. It’s not you personally. (Take it from the schoolteacher, who teaches an elective and still hears it from time to time.) Even so, it’s no fun. Here’s hoping Christmas comes soon, and painlessly. (( ))
Yeah I know he hates it but its not my fault… I’m moving out after Christmas anyway so not long to put up with him now.
Finnick Odair is something of a living legend in Panem.
Since he won the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games when he was only fourteen, he’s still one of the youngest victors. Being from District 4, he was a Career, so the odds were already in his favor, but what no trainer could claim to have given him was his extraordinary beauty. Tall, athletic, with golden skin and bronze-colored hair and those incredible eyes. While other tributes that year were hard-pressed to get a handful of grain or some matches for a gift, Finnick never wanted for anything, not food or medicine or weapons. It took about a week for his competitors to realize that he was the one to kill, but it was too late. He was already a good fighter with the spears and knives he had found in the Cornucopia. When he received a silver parachute with a trident—which may be the most expensive gift I’ve ever seen given in the arena—it was all over. District 4’s industry is fishing. He’d been on boats his whole life. The trident was a natural, deadly extension of his arm. He wove a net out of some kind of vine he found, used it to entangle his opponents so he could spear them with the trident, and within a matter of days the crown was his.
The citizens of the Capitol have been drooling over him ever since.
(Source: neitherheavenorhell, via the-desolation-of-smaug)
one time in sixth grade this kid shouted “urethra” instead of “eureka”