(Source: dandiprat, via alone-dreaming)

(Source: lifeisbigdream, via alone-dreaming)

(via alone-dreaming)

(via alone-dreaming)

(Source: perpetual-bliss24, via alone-dreaming)

(Source: rainydaydances, via galapagos-monster)

(via christineesongg)

(via the-hunger-game)

odair:

I want, I want, I want to be loved by you.

(via the-hunger-game)

(Source: zainabsays, via calisummer52)

(Source: funnymushroom, via calisummer52)

She zips back to the podium, and I don’t even have time to wish for Gale’s safety when she’s reading the name. “Peeta Mellark.” Oh, no, I think. Not him. Because I recognize this name, although I have never spoken directly to its owner. Peeta Mellark. No, the odds are not in my favor today. I watch him as he makes his way toward the stage. Medium height, stocky build, ashy blond hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the moment is registering on his face, you can see his struggle to remain emotionless, but his blue eyes show the alarm I’ve seen so often in prey. Yet he climbs steadily onto the stage and takes his place. Why him?

(via calisummer52)

The countdown has begun.

(via fuckyeahthehungergames)

(Source: firerainsoverme, via hurricane-)