It’s 2013 why can’t we unsend messages yet.
heartbroken’s the name friendzone is my game
i wonder how people describe me when they’re talking about me to someone who’s never met me
okay so for three years or so now I’ve had to deal with all my family teasing peeta for being a wuss and gale being the strong one and katniss being the leader. so I just wanted to write this down and yes it’s a peeta mellark appreciation rant because I don’t know if I say it, or scream it, enough at my family enough :)
the childhood abuse. the unspoken love and although Suzanne doesn’t mention it I think we can all say he felt a satisfactory amount of jealousy towards gale.
then the reaping, imagine getting picked with the love of your life and wanting to protect her and let her live even though you’d die in doing so.
surviving that. and even after so much they’d been through, he finds out he’d been used and it was all a lie, she never loved him back.
still not loving him back like he loved her, they are forced back into the arena, knowing that this time there’s no escaping one or the others death. walking into the arena looking death in the eye, already walking down its path while protecting katniss with his life.
now about the rebellion. the fricking mockingjay. katniss is a fricking symbol. she’s the spark of the rebellion. peeta is the light that set the spark aflame. I mean the VOICE. he is the VOICE OF THE REBELLION. what is a symbol without a genius persuading leader, managing to give hope to starving districts?
I mean who can lead a whole society of blood-hungry disgustingly rich and spoiled Capitol citizens to actually REBEL TO STOP THE GAMES JUST BY USING HIS WORDS? HIS IDEAS. PRETA EFFING MELLARK THATS WHO.
SO JUST DONT SAY THAT PEETA IS THE BIGGEST WUSS OF THE TRILOGY AND GALE IS THE BRAVE WARRIOR. I’m not saying gale isn’t, but if going through all that and then getting EFFING HIJACKED AND BRAINWASHED TO THINK THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE IS A MUTT AND WANTING TO KILL HER AND BECOMING A MONSTER AND LIVING THROUGH THAT AND GETTING BACK TO YOUR MEMORIES AND GOING THROUGH NIGHTS AND NIGHTS OF NIGHTMARES ISNT STRONG FOR YOU THEN I JUST WASTED MY BREATH.
city of oh another name for muggles
city of don’t mind me shipping invest
city of nobody speaks of that second of an instant we all sort of shipped sebby with clary
city of the one in between jace’s resurrection and jace’s demonic possession where clace finally becomes canon but nobody really remembers the plot or is that just me
city of no don’t touch sebby he’s a lonely misunderstood lil snowflake that just needs love in his life
city of we were all expecting the worst but where are these 6 main characters who died¿
She was back in the arena. The disgusting, sweet smell of roses filled the air. She couldn’t breathe. When the smell faded away, she suffocated in the thick crimson air sticking onto her dry skin like blood.
Where was everyone? A deserted arena?
Footsteps. Louder and louder.
She couldn’t turn around. It was as if a force was keeping her from facing her fear. Protecting her or harming her?
Louder. The sound was becoming deafening. She turned around.
People. Hundreds of people following her like empty promises she never kept. Tributes? Mutts? At first all their faces were blurred as if canceled from her memory but as they got closer…
Cinna. Rue. Finnick. A tear rushed down her cheek as a girl with blonde braids made her way to the front.
"Prim." Katniss mouthed as more tears escaped from her eyes.
But nobody heard. It was like they didn’t even see her. Or they weren’t even there. What were they? Mutts, spirits, ghosts of all the people whose deaths she was responsible for? More and more kept coming. She couldn’t take it anymore. All she could do was run. Run, run and run until she was sure they would haunt her no more. The smell of blood and roses grew stronger. She collapsed onto a bush of roses. The thorns cut her skin but she felt nothing, already the pain and tears having drained all her feelings away. She began to close her eyes as she watched her blood paint the white roses red. But something, someone, shot them open again. A blonde head.
"Peeta!" she cried.
He turned around, but she was not staring into his deep, loveable blue eyes. It was his tortured glare.Tthe look that haunted her dreams at night.
With an evil smirk he said, “Here to finish me off sweetheart?”
And then it was all over. She opened her eyes. It was dark but she could hear a baby’s short breaths and almost see inside a little girl’s dreams. Most importantly she could feel the person she cares for the most lying next to her, the blue eyes she recognized open.
”Stay with me” she whispers.