Primroses

Warning: Not spoiler free. Most of the stuff I reblog is book stuff: The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, TMI, ect. This is also my personal blog though, so whatever else I feel like too.


(via stileswhorelinski)



Rue is a small yellow flower that grows in the Meadow. Rue. Primrose. 

(Source: everlarc, via c-atnips)


posted 1 year ago · 4,631 notes © everlarc
#thg #queue

Josh Hutcherson in black&white

(via avoxes)


posted 1 year ago · 3,289 notes © ffinicks

(Source: formerlymyladymother, via romangod)


posted 1 year ago · 181 notes © formerlymyladymother
#thg


I don’t know if this is why everything has worked so well and I’m not sure I’d recommend this kind of thinking to anyone else, but I’ve always known I’d be successful in acting. I have certainly worked for it. 

I don’t know if this is why everything has worked so well and I’m not sure I’d recommend this kind of thinking to anyone else, but I’ve always known I’d be successful in acting. I have certainly worked for it

(via kingofwesteros)


posted 1 year ago · 1,093 notes © mercurymorning

(via nearlyheadlessfinnick)



(via percyjacksony)


posted 1 year ago · 14,577 notes © beautyhalf-betrayed

kitkatniss:

I don’t think I will ever truly be happy until I have one of those secret bookshelf doors where you have to pull out a certain book to open the door.

(via nearlyheadlessfinnick)


posted 1 year ago · 29,594 notes © kitkatniss-deactivated20120820

(Source: peetniss-everlarks, via iswearonemmaswaan)


posted 1 year ago · 2,669 notes © peetniss-everlarks
#everlark tho


posted 1 year ago · 241,387 notes © stoicall
#gpoy #pretty much #queue

(via mockingfire)


posted 1 year ago · 5,711 notes © asheathes
#thg







And then I see her, the blood drained from her face, hands clenched in fists at her sides, walking with stiff, small steps up toward the stage, passing me, and I see the back of her blouse has become untucked and hangs out over her skirt.

It’s this detail, the untucked blouse forming a ducktail, that brings me back to myself.
“Prim!” The strangled cry comes out of my throat, and my muscles begin to move again. “Prim!” I don’t need to shove through the crowd.

The other kids make way immediately allowing me a straight path to the stage. I reach her just as she is about to mount the steps. With one sweep of my arm, I push her behind me.
“I volunteer!” I gasp. “I volunteer as tribute!”

(via ladris-deactivated20130918)