the   force   is   known,   to   its   most   fundamental   grounds, 

wife….

THE COVEY'S + THE MOCKINGJAYS & JABBERJAYS

the mutt (peeta's games #3) by igsygrace on ao3 // catching fire (2013) // visions of gideon by sufjan stevens

it’s not just katniss who’s descended from the covey—prim is, too. when effie sends katniss a list of possible “talents” she could have as a victor, katniss fails at cooking, flower arranging, and flute playing…“but prim has a knack for all three.”

because katniss is set on understating her similarities to her mother, she emphasizes prim’s shared qualities with asterid while positioning herself as the reflection of her father. in doing so, katniss makes it easy to forget that her voice is not the only place burdock everdeen lives on—he’s there behind prim’s blonde hair and blue eyes just as much.

the loss of their covey connection is a loss of culture for both everdeen girls. but they never truly lost their musical talent, not even with the loss of burdock and the music he brought to their home. because katniss knew her mother had returned to them the day asterid started to sing.

in a free world, a world where haymitch had been the symbol of a successful revolution, a world where the covey had been allowed to live on, katniss and prim both would have had a place in the community, the family that theirs had been forced to abandon. katniss armed with her voice and prim with her flute, clad in dresses of forest green and baby blue, they’d begin:

“nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping…”

the ballad of songbirds and snakes; lucy gray's perspective

⊰ jedichosen: ⊱

            ❛   𝐇𝐎𝐖  ?    ❜    hollowed words  :    carved and ripped from the depths of his torment.    night after night he’s been witness to such endless destruction ,    to the end of all times.    her death is a prophecy that should not be ignored.    𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌    /    𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇.    for once ,    the softness of her skin cannot assuage his torture ,    and it’s a reminder of all he might lose.    ❛    i keep seeing you    ——    dead    .    .    .    ❜    vanishing notes ,    while blue eyes avoid her own.    but his fingers come down ‘pon her tender cheek  ;    caressing with a devotion reserved only for deities ,    finally admitting his defeat.    ❛    i don’t know what to do.    ❜          

          𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒, 𝐓𝐎𝐎, 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄  &  𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄.  ( 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐈 𝐌 𝐏 𝐋 𝐎 𝐒 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ).  galaxies bear witness with each passing day, of how too-often, ethereal light trembles  &  gives way –– leaving voids  &  their endless shadows to s p l a y.    ❛  … don’t shut me out.  ❜    trepidation stirs the breath within the fragile cage of her chest ; though it shakes, love holds her steady.  she bows her head, leaning into the ever-fleeting touch of his hand …    ❛  i’m here. with you. right now.  ❜     she’d no intention of ever  s l i p p i n g  away     /     no matter what the constellations spell  &  splay.

     ❛  &  i love you. we’ll figure this out.  ❜

FILM & TV YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW | DAY 4: URL/ICON

Duchess

Concept art for Padme’s funeral on Naboo from Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith by Iain McCaig