expecto patronum

Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks.

Marisol Muro

Haymitch and his ducklings

                                       How come she married him? She hated him!                                                                   Nah, she didn’t

Chapter twelve: The Mirror of Erised She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes - her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just like Harry’s did. Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection. ‘Mum?’ he whispered. ‘Dad?’ They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry’s knobbly knees - Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life. The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

"Me ?" I say in disbelief. "I am living proof that the Capitol always wins. I tried to keep that sun from rising on another reaping day, I tried to change things and now everybody's dead. You don't want me." And I don't want him. I don't want help from anybody in the Capitol ever again. I could never trust them. "We do want you. You shook up the Capitol, both figuratively and literally, with that earthquake. You were capable of imagining a different future. And maybe it won't be realized today, maybe not in our lifetime. Maybe it will take generations. We're all part of a continuum. Does that make it pointless ?" "I just don't know. But I do know, you need someone different from me." "No, Haymitch, we need someone exactly like you." "Just luckier ?" I say. "Luckier, or with better timing." — Sunrise on the Reaping, 2025, written by Suzanne Collins.

THE HUNGER GAMES: SUNRISE ON THE REAPING (2025)

His first real birthday

this bit from catching fire hits a lot different now

I love you like all-fire

This is the end of the book by the way I don’t take criticism ò-ó

Long shots

saw this days ago but I wasn’t there yet… just got to ampert’s death. brb losing my mind.

any spoilers here are minor and/or out of context spoilers so don’t yell at me lol

no. it was haymitch both honoring Maysilee and continuing her poster.