no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe.
(Source: escapetofiction)
When they came to firebomb the house
I didn’t feel pain, ‘cause no-one can touch me
(Source: slayerofkings)
(Source: luisacontinis)
(Source: stinkingmutts)
“No one really needs me,” he says, and there’s no self pity in his voice. It’s true his family doesn’t need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.
“Your favorite color… it’s green?” “That’s right.” Then I think of something to add. “And your’s is orange.”“Orange?” He seems unconvinced.”Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset,” I say. “At least, that’s what you told me once.”“Oh.” He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then he nods his head. “Thank you.” But more words tumble out. “You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.” Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.
- Katniss & Peeta {Mockingjay}
