Reblog and put in the tags the fourth song that’s in your spotify on repeat playlist
Today's Document
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tumblr dot com
ojovivo
occasionally subtle
$LAYYYTER
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

oozey mess

No title available
almost home

Origami Around
Sade Olutola
todays bird

PR's Tumblrdome

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available

Janaina Medeiros
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from Finland

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Norway

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from Japan

seen from United States

seen from Antigua & Barbuda
@florencesn
Reblog and put in the tags the fourth song that’s in your spotify on repeat playlist
I do think that Coryo fell in love with Lucy Gray, but i also fully believe that such love would never have been possible had he not be given the near-total control over her fate in the games, and by extension, her fate in the Capitol.
Listen. Here is a boy who has nothing but his last name, posing around pretending like he owned everything while scrambling for a scrap of something. Here is a boy who had to share everything he had ever owned, who was never fully in control of anything except for his words. Here is a boy, who, due to the lie he's been controlling, can never let anyone in -- not even his pseudo-older sister and not even his most affectionate classmate -- for it poses the risk of being perceived, and potentially punished for his lack of ownership.
And then suddenly this boy -- who's so desperate to own something -- is granted the ownership of another person a full-pass to control everything about her; her words, her image, her story. And sure, she wasn't his first pick, but the thought of having something gave him a sense of relief and dignity his lies could never give him, and that dignity, that slight restoration of confidence, gave way for that first crack on his chest after being guarded for so long.
And then the person he "owned" showed up, and she was the most interesting person of the pick. She gave the people a show and she made a song on top of it, turning his confidence to pride. I truly believe that had he been assigned to another person, he would not have showed up to the train station, simply due the fact that they were not interesting enough to warrant his visit -- or his grandma'am's roses. Him showing up to the train wasn't just done in goodwill; it was also a stake of ownership -- it was him, acknowledging to himself that this was something worth owning, and like other things worth owning, it could be taken away from him if he lets his guard slips.
And that becomes the initial foundation to their interaction; the talking, the bringing up food... sure, Lucy Gray was interesting, but he was detached of her charm in those first meeting, seeing her in the lens of how others might measure her and her worth. his main focus was "taking care of her"; making sure his precious thing survived, making sure his ownership of her -- and thus his pride -- will not dissipate.
And then the tributes started plotting to kill him, only to be stopped by Lucy Gray. Sure, for her, he might seem as if he was doing something a kind -- even if useless -- meeting her in this run-down train station, and that perhaps was part of the reason why she defended him, and part of the reason why she stood by him in that Zoo cage. But for Coryo, his visit was calculated, his rose a chip of bargain, his zoo visit a byproduct of refusing to be caught slipping. For him, Lucy Gray stepping up for him was uncalled for, a surprising kindness.
He tried to rationalize it best as he could, but he was stumped. And I think this was when he started to really listen to Lucy Gray, to stop being detached from her. He was his father's son, and he believed in knowing the things he owned in order to properly maintain it. And it was this desire to know that melted his walls, that made him vulnerable, because to understand her fully he opened himself up to be understood, which had never happened before.
I think Coryo did love Lucy Gray, however tainted and terrible that love was. I think it was the first time of him making the effort to perceive someone and be reciprocated back -- fully, thoroughly, and wholeheartedly. It helped (or didn't help?) That Lucy Gray was a poet, that she fed him with pretty words; the only things that -- up until she showed up -- he'd ever truly owned for himself. For him, that connection -- added over the fact that he had "owned her", as everyone else kept saying -- must have felt like a drug. It must have felt intoxicating, to own something so lovely, something that adored him. It must have been a new, exhilarating feeling for Coryo, who never owned anything but worthless scraps and his pretty, pretty words. And yes, that was such a terrible way to put it, but love is many things; it can be terrible too.
I think Coryo loved Lucy Gray, and had they stayed in Capitol, he would have been able to continue to "love her". Billy Taupe was just some name, the Covey some story. What for Lucy Gray was history, was only pretty words for him. For all he chose to believe in, they could be the same pretty words he said; mostly lie, some exaggeration. In the Capitol, she is his, fully. And Coryo can love only what he owns.
But they didn't stay at Capitol, they moved to twelve. Suddenly, all her pretty words were honest and real, something he couldn't ignore, much less control. Suddenly, there was the Covey, and Billy Taupe, and Mayor Lipp, and even if her eyes were for him only he still had to share the rest of her -- her voice, her charm, her poise -- with other people. Twelve highlighted that he'd never truly owned her, we all know that. But here's another thing that twelve highlighted; it was him who chose to be the soldier in a rundown district, him who chose to follow her. If there was any ownership to be had here, it was her that owned him.
And Coryo? He doesn't share, yes, but worse than anything, he despises being owned.
This is where TBOSAS shone its brilliance; president Snow is the way he was not because he is an unfeeling sadist the was Volumnia Gaul is. He was the way he was because of love. Because of the vulnerability that comes with that love, and the refusal to surrender to it. President Snow would not be as ruthless and despicable had he been desensitized, and it was his feelings, his capability to love, that led him to employ some of the most gruesome tactics to win the games.
Here's the heartbreaking thing; once upon a time, Coryo loves Lucy Gray, and that love was true. Here's another heartbreaking thing; that love was built on poison, and its toxic vines ruined him so completely, decimated him so thoroughly, he was reborn anew evil; president Snow would not have happened without Lucy Gray, without Coryo's time in Twelve.
President Snow said, "it's the thing we love most that destroys us," and he said this as a warning to Katniss, yes, but he also said it to Coryo's shadow, standing behind her, who was looking at the back of the Girl on Fire, thinking the wavy black hair and the whispered songs were that of someone else's.
beach boys… city girls… mountain goats…
[caption: a reply from user namelessrosewrites which reads, “ain’t this the trio from percy jackson.” end caption.]
Harry on stage in LA, Night 13, by Hannah.
mental illness made me so desperate for joy that i forgot it was this simple… feeling the ocean against your skin… a really good guitar riff… sun on your back… holding the door for a stranger… a cold shower on a hot day…….. the world is like a cradle and i am just a little baby. eyes wide open there is so much to see
i spend my days waiting. waiting for the water to boil and my tea to be ready. for spring to come back. for more daylight. the oil in the pan to heat up. a “hey i miss you” or “can you help me out for a second?” or “you want to hang out?” text. for my phone to finish charging. for good news. flowers on the table. the next hug. “hey, you got the job!”. waiting for the sun. to set. to rise. to see both. for summer to be around the corner. a good song. a falling star. a text back. i spend my time waiting to be remembered. i spend my time repeating that tomorrow will be better. tomorrow will be better. i spend my days waiting and waiting and waiting. i spend my days waiting unbearably.
not me thinking that since there were six infinity stones and six original avengers they were going to make that symbolism a plot point in endgame
YEAH EXACTLY
BRIDGERTON 2.01 Capital R Rake 2.07 Harmony
THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA 2006, dir. David Frankel
Just thought a visual of the emotional, physical and down right traumatic pile of crap Tony Stark has been wading through in the MCU might be nice. (Especially for those who seem a little fuzzy on how much it really has added up to over the years)
It’s Tony’s 48th today, so I updated the thing for you guys.
Welcome to Pain™
i love knowing the story behind ppls urls so reblog this and put in the tags how u chose yours
oh, to be walking down a street and find a doorway painted with a bee, a key and a sword that leads to a labyrinth full of books. To walk down these halls in a gown with a cat trailing behind me. To live in a room with a kitchen of invisible staff that cooks me everything I need. To explore lost cities of honey and bone. To sail the starless sea
Normalise liking poetry because you like the way it sounds and art because you think its beautiful. You don’t have to understand the deeper meaning of something to appreciate it - poetry is bloody difficult to analyse and art requires an extensive knowledge of movements and artists to properly get - so please just wonder around art galleries and decide which pieces you’d buy if you could, and read out lines of poetry simply because they have a nice ring to them.
im quitting tumblr
ok see u tomorrow
this post is now 10 fucking years old
The intimacy of "How did you know that?" "Because i know you." The intimacy of waiting for someone while they tie their shoe laces. The intimacy of sharing one earbud each. The intimacy of inside jokes that always bring laughter. The intimacy of noticing someone's nervous habits.