Insert cheesy title.

Hello there! Welcome to a magical land of not caring and blogging what's on your mind. My name is Thuy and I'd like to show you a little bit of who I am. 100% Viet and proud. Currently attending James Logan High School C/O 2013.

Apr 1

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Mar 26

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thisdoesnotsuck:

Josh Hutcherson Drawing

Post-A-Drawing-Friday - Part 1. ‘Hunger Games’ related is the theme of today’s drawings. Prismacolor pencils on Strathmore.

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thelisanator:

& it sucks knowing that a majority of people would rather talk to what I look like on the right instead of left.

Why? We have the same personality though.

(via jessanothergirl)

I want to do something, right here, right now, to shame them, to make them accountable, to show the Capitol that whatever they do or force us to do there is a par of every tribute they can’t own. That Rue was more than a piece in their Games. And so am I. A few steps into the woods grows a bank of wildflowers. Perhaps they are really weeds of some sort, but they have blossoms in beautiful shades of violet and yellow and white. I gather up an armful and come back to Rue’s side. Slowly, one stem at a time, I decorate her body in the flowers. Covering the ugly wound. Wreathing her face. Weaving her hair in bright colors. They’ll have to show it. Or, even if they choose to turn the cameras elsewhere at this moment, they’ll have to bring them back when they collect the bodies and everyone will see her then and know I did it. I step back and take one last look at Rue. She could really be asleep in that meadow after all. “Bye, Rue,” I whisper. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand against my lips and hold them out in her direction. Then I walk away without looking back.

I want to do something, right here, right now, to shame them, to make them accountable, to show the Capitol that whatever they do or force us to do there is a par of every tribute they can’t own. That Rue was more than a piece in their Games. And so am I. A few steps into the woods grows a bank of wildflowers. Perhaps they are really weeds of some sort, but they have blossoms in beautiful shades of violet and yellow and white. I gather up an armful and come back to Rue’s side. Slowly, one stem at a time, I decorate her body in the flowers. Covering the ugly wound. Wreathing her face. Weaving her hair in bright colors. They’ll have to show it. Or, even if they choose to turn the cameras elsewhere at this moment, they’ll have to bring them back when they collect the bodies and everyone will see her then and know I did it. I step back and take one last look at Rue. She could really be asleep in that meadow after all. “Bye, Rue,” I whisper. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand against my lips and hold them out in her direction. Then I walk away without looking back.

(via tommythetiger)