iwishlilbwasmygrandpa:

My cousin is always watching Everybody Loves Raymond in the other room while I’m on the computer. I always hear Raymond’s voice. His deep, throaty voice, like a hungover toad. It’s very unique. Sometimes I continue to hear the thick grog of Ray Romano long after the television is off. Ray tells me things. Ray tells me horrible, horrible things. And I listen.

Katniss Everdeen + Identities

elisabethmoth:

yeidi7:

Words. I think of words and I think of Peeta. How people embrace everything he says. He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I’m sure the idea has never crossed his mind.

adolfhitlersnipples:

if you don’t think bo burnham is brilliant you are wrong

adolfhitlersnipples:

if you don’t think bo burnham is brilliant you are wrong


im a foolish, fragile spine

im a foolish, fragile spine

Then I notice something is rising up around me. Smoke. From fire. Not the flickery stuff I wore last year in the chariot, but something much more real that devours my dress. I begin to panic as the smoke thickens. Charred bits of black silk swirl into the air, and pearls clatter to the stage. Somehow I’m afraid to stop because my flesh doesn’t seem to be burning and I know Cinna must be behind whatever is happening. So I keep spinning and spinning. For a split second I’m gasping, completely engulfed in the strange flames. Then all at once, the fire is gone. I slowly come to a stop, wondering if I’m naked and why Cinna has arranged to burn away my wedding dress. But I’m not naked. I’m in a dress of the exact design of my wedding dress, only it’s the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that’s when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings. Because Cinna has turned me into a mockingjay.

hellofromtumblr:

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cinnasownmockingjay:

there is one who you belong to,  whose love—there is no song for.  and though you know it’s wrongful,  there is someone else you long for.

poem [x]

cinnasownmockingjay:

there is one who you belong to,
whose love—there is no song for.
and though you know it’s wrongful,
there is someone else you long for.

poem [x]

"I want to die as myself. I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not. I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol that they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games.”

I was somebody before I came in here. I was somebody with a life that I chose for myself and now, now it’s just about getting through the day without crying. And I’m scared. I’m still scared. I’m scared that I’m not myself in here and I’m scared that I am. Other people aren’t the scariest part of prison, it’s coming face-to-face with who you really are. Because once you’re behind these walls there’s nowhere to run. The truth catches up with you in here and it’s the truth that’s going to make you her bitch.

internetvvhore:

good looking 13 year olds 

image

michaelcliffhrd:

GET TO KNOW ME MEME: [1/5] favorite movies - The Hunger Games

Hope, it is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous.

we all want the same thing.