Today I saw a Buddhist monk in his robes cracking himself up taking selfies with a cardboard cut out of the Pope. I’ve seen world peace, and it thinks it’s hilarious.
I may tag things with “I’m crying” or “SCREAMING” but I am sitting in my room in the dark covered in blankets with a straight face and I literally haven’t spoken a word in over twelve hours
it’s whats on the inside that counts
sigh i love niall (◡‿◡✿)
not as much as niall loves niall (✿◠‿◠)
“Hey, buy me this thing”
“waIT NO I WAS KIDDING PLEASE DON’T OH MY GOD I CAN’T ACCEPT THIS STOP BEING SO NICE DON’T YOU DARE GET ME THIS THING I ASKED FOR I SWEAR TO GOD”
"Here, I bought you the thing"
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO I CAN’T ACCEPT THIS"
"just take it"
"I CAN’T-if you insist oK THANK YOU VERY MUCH"
does harry not realise he has the power to break the internet by bringing his hair back down even for a day
- The Hunger Games: This is the first kiss that we're both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. (pg. 298)
- Catching Fire: This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. (pg.352)
- Mockingjay: It's a long shot, it's suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slip up his wrists to clasp his. "Don't let him take you from me." Peeta's panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. "No. I don't want to..." I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs. (pg. 314)
totalitarian dystopian future lit is like “what if the government got so powerful that all the bad stuff that’s already happening ALSO HAPPENED TO WHITE PEOPLE?”