The person who makes a success of livingis the one who see his goal steadily and
aims for it unswervingly. That is dedication.
What’s with all these awesome trailers coming out recently! I got super inspired by the new Hunger Games trailer - I think Jennifer Lawrence was a great pick for Katniss! Here is a portrait of her, painted this in a couple of hours today.
So yeah, I’ll be having a giveaway. It contains
- The Hunger Games Trilogy (All in hardbound)
- “If We Burn, You Burn With Us” baller
- “Demigod In Training” baller
- “May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor” baller (I haven’t taken a picture fuck)
- A Thor Shirt (This is not used much, for I adore the quality)
Then I’ll be choosing another winner for the Nokia C6. It’s new. I didn’t use it because I never liked QWERTY phones. (Those who follow me will have a chance on this)
- You should be following me (mysteadyflame) (or not, but you’ll only have a chance on the goodies, not the phone)
- You should reblog this or like it. (Those who reblog this are those who’ll have a chance on the phone and the goodies, so I suggest you reblog it)
- Winner/s will be chosen on January 31, 2012
- Will be notified thru asks, so keep it open!!
- If this only gets 1 note, then he/she will get all of it.
- Free shipping all over the universe
![Jennifer Lawrence
[someone please tell me to unistall photoshop…]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxjox6geuM1qliqbxo1_500.jpg)
Jennifer Lawrence
[someone please tell me to unistall photoshop…]
Peeta has painted the Games. Some you wouldn’t get right away, if you hadn’t been with him in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in our cave. The dry pond bed. A pair of hands, his own, digging for roots. Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. Clove arranging the knives inside her jacket. One of the mutts, unmistakably the blond, green eyed one meant to be Glimmer, snarling as it makes its way toward us. And me. I am everywhere. High up in a tree. Beating a shirt against the stones in the stream. Lying unconscious in a pool of blood. And one I can’t place – perhaps this is how I looked when his fever was high–emerging from a silver gray mist that matches my eyes exactly.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“I hate them,” I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. “All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you’ve brought it, back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?”
“I see them every night,” he says.
(via panemdestruction)
