i can basically listen to “sunday best” by augustana any day, at any time, anywhere, anything, all the time, always
notable lyrics:well i’m coming over sundayand i think about you all the timei wonder what you’re doingi wonder why you never crywhen boston’s always rainingand we never ever seem alivei sung about you once nowi guess i might as well
length: a lil bit short/long - perfect!!content: too many hyphens - it’s nice! - i’M IN LOVeoverall: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ASDFGHJKL WOW
icon:
colours: a bit too bright/dull - i like them - AMAZINGcontent: i don’t recognise them??? - cool - BAEoverall: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ACTUAL PERFECTION
hover:
colours: don’t rly work?? - they look nice - i love it eeeheader: looks kinda fuzzy - it’s so nice - DUDE HOW LIKE A+overall: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - IM STEALING IT
theme:
sidebar: it’s a bit fuzzy - i likeeee - WOWOWOWcomment: your theme is so cute and i like the sidebar!!!overall: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - DUDE TELL ME HOW PLs
posts:
content: not my kinda thing - some are awesome - i love tHEM ALLquality: kinda fuzzy/long - they’re cool bro - REBLOGGING THEM ALLoverall: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - DUDE THEY’rE MINE NOW
following?
no sorry but ily - HECK YES - i am now brO - ‘till the end of the line
okay i'm only doing this for a couple of you and i don't even know if you guys care but i need feedback and support??? it's under a cut, everything i have so far (a little over 1k)
please please please drop me a line!!! i want to do this trope justice bc soulmate arcs make me super happy
***
Haymitch never thought much about the name on his arm.
It was right above the crook of his left, written to face him. Like one of those tattoos people in the Capitol decorated their bodies with, in addition to the name they already had, the name they wore, etched into their arms.
Soulnames, they were called. Supposedly your own perfect match.
It was written always in red. There’s an old urban legend that says the veins in the left arm grow close to the surface of the skin and in the shape of each particular letter, but the names always appear five to ten years after birth, never when the veins are actually formed in the womb.
There were volumes of urban legends dedicated to the phenomena of soulnames. It was always, no matter the decade, pop culture. He had heard the Capitol stories. Seen the jeweler commercials with happy couples, each proudly displaying the opposite’s name on their arms. Read endless books with varying tropes—maybe the protagonist has a painfully generic name on his arm—Mary, say—and has to search through every “Mary” he meets to find the right one.
Of course, these scenarios always take place in districts where the entire population is not starving. Or half-dead from mine explosions. In District 12, soulnames had never been a hot topic, not one people actually cared about. Haymitch’s mother did not bear his father’s name on her arm. His father had died before he could understand the word written on his, but Haymitch never imagined it was his mother’s name.
When the most basic needs have not been met for a community—fresh water, food, shelter—the last thing anyone needs is a reason to waste time looking for their “true love.” As far as anyone knew, soulmates transcended districts, and it was illogical to spend money hunting down someone across the entire empire just to marry a stranger like wealthy Capitol members did. And that was only if the soulnames matched.
Soulmates were not always carved out of the same marble to exactly fit together. It was like a puzzle, see. Even corner pieces connect to more than one other piece. If someone’s soulmate did not reciprocate in name, they were merely facing a different part of the puzzle, a different connecting puzzle piece.
There were stories of people without soulnames, too, people who either couldn’t love or loved so fluidly that they could not be limited to one person. Haymitch had never known anyone for sure to be void of writing on their arms. He chalked this up to another legend.
Not that any of it mattered in 12 anyway. Hardly anyone there even knew others’ soulnames. If you didn’t want to wear long sleeves all the time, there was a cheap but strong powder sold around town that covered up the faint red lines rather well.
It was almost considered rude for neighbors, even good friends, to talk about each other’s soulnames at all. In all of the poorer districts, it was assumed that whoever you were dating, in love with, or married to did not bear your name on their arm, and you did not bear their’s.
Haymitch’s name had grown into his arm when he was eight. As all children when presented with such magic, Haymitch became fascinated by it. His soulname was particularly unique, and didn’t sound like the fruity Capitol names on TV or that he heard his parents throw around sometimes. This name made him think of summer dirt between his toes, the smell of pine and firewood. When he learned how to sound it out and say it out loud, it sounded like birds chirping.
By age fourteen, Haymitch grew out of his fascination with his soulname and into a generic cynicism shared by the district. He did not know of anyone by that name anyway. He figured he never would. So when he caught Blythe staring at him from across the Hob while he was burying milk, even though her name was nothing like the one his veins supposedly twisted themselves into, he went over to her. A month later, he kissed her for the first time, and considered cutting off his left arm directly above the elbow.
He never did, obviously. He just wore sleeves all the time, only ever pushed them up so they still covered his soulname. Blythe covered hers in powder. He never knew if it was in fact his name or if she just thought he was cute, liked his sense of humor, and cared for him of her own free will, not because a word on her arm told her to.
Tempted as he was to ask her about it after the Quarter Quell raping sentenced him to death, in the tiny moment they had to say goodbye, he knew it wouldn’t be fair to her. Either way, her last memory would be of disappointment—his disappointment, if the name on her arm was not his, or her disappointment if it was in fact his name, but he could not reciprocate it.
He kicked into survival mode as soon as the train with all four tributes took off for the Capitol. During training, Haymitch worked for his mother, his brother, Blythe. He fought to return to them. He thought nothing of his soulname. But in the arena, jabberjays hid behind every overflowing bush screaming her name, the name on his arm.
By the time he won, he did not know who he was fighting for.
After his games, he did not hear her name spoken aloud for twenty-four years. He could not stomach it in his mouth while knowing Blythe’s ghost still hung from a tree, and someone, somewhere, had her name on their arm and would never even have the chance to find her, all because of him.
He never did find out whose name was on her arm. For a while he had to force himself to not care, convince himself that it didn’t matter, but eventually he forgot about the names at all. When Haymitch was drunk, he didn’t have the mental capacity to comprehend the complexity of soulnames, and Haymitch was always drunk.
On the day of the 74th reaping, he was especially drunk. Even so, it was not enough—probably never would have been enough, no matter how inebriated he was—for him to miss the name of the female tribute.
He didn’t care about the young one. He didn’t even care about the girl who volunteered until he heard distant shouts of No—You can’t! and something he vaguely recognized thrown in somewhere.
Everdeen, he had heard. That was the first name called. So the volunteer must be the older girl. He had known her mother in school, talked to her father on occasion before his death, seen her in the Hob selling her kills with a long, brown braid wrapped around her shoulders. He knew her as “the Everdeen girl,” and, when necessary, “the older one.” He had never known her full name.
When she got onstage and introduced herself, he was not expecting to be shaken sober so quickly he got dizzy. He was not expecting his heart to beat wildly in his ears, blocking out all other sound. He was not expecting his hands to go clammy and his arms to sweat under his ridiculous Capitol-issued suit.
He was not expecting to hear her name, not after twenty four years. Not here. Not now. And especially not like this.
hey guys it's been like 80 years since i've posted a selfie so here's two!!! i hope everyone, US or not, is having a happy thanksgiving and remembering to tag food pics :)
alright so i was tagged by the lovely ewebie (who has a GREAT list btw, check it here) to list 10 books that have affected my life/stuck with me in some way
okay here we go, i'm gonna explain some of them because i'm a dweeb
***order doesn't matter!
1. lolita by vladimir nabakov
some of you guys know that i'm writing my senior thesis this year on lolita because of how much it affected me in 10th grade when i first read it. it still shocks me how persuasive language can be and how, in less than 300 pages, nabakov can force readers to sympathize with a pedophile.
2. the bell jar by sylvia plath
3. why we broke up by daniel handler
4. crush by richard siken
don't talk to me don't touch me don't look at me, this book has been my life for the past 4 years, i carry a totally beaten-up copy in my bag always, i've underlined and highlighted my analyses over and over again in it, i have taken this book and stripped it of all symbolism, broken it down and memorized its anatomy. i have never had a book strike me as much as crush. when richard siken accepted my friend request on facebook, i cried.
5. the dream songs by john berryman
6. the scary stories treasury by alan schwartz
i know this sounds funny but this book got me into scary stories and over my fear of the unknown, death, and fear itself. i owe a lot to schwartz.
7. lucy in the sky by anonymous
8. heart of darkness by joseph conrad
9. it's kind of a funny story by ned vizzini
10. the harry potter series by j.k. rowling
okay so i'm tagging oursoulslikewheels, slumberpatch, missygreer, theperksofbeingabooknerd, paperheartreplica, sammysshampoo, cupcakesweeties, and vulcanmoonlight :)
don't forget to tag me back if you post, i love seeing book recs from people!
