Insomnia self soothing by watching every Miasma video I can find. Just - he only does it for a second. When he pushes the body of the guitar to bend the sound. It scratches my brain ALMOST as good as the super vibrato he does.
This is from Irving Texas, clip is from tr3m0r45 on YouTube
One of the (many) reasons I deeply dislike the "Annie and Finnick's wedding was only a propaganda move that meant absolutely nothing to anyone" take is that is... simply not accurate?
It is often claimed Plutarch had Finnick and Annie intentionally wear Peeta and Katniss' outfits to send some type of message, but that means to completely ignore how it was Katniss herself that offered to give Annie a dress for her wedding:
“when Plutarch has a fit over what the bride will wear — I volunteer to take Annie back to my house in 12, where Cinna left a variety of evening clothes in a big storage closet downstairs.”
How Peeta himself also made their wedding cake:
“As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie’s gown were done by Cinna’s hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta’s.”
And to also disregard how everyone else felt and how happy and excited they were to be part of it:
“When it’s announced that children are wanted to sing District 4’s wedding song, practically every kid shows up. There’s no shortage of volunteers to help make decorations. In the dining hall, people chat excitedly about the event.”
All in all, it means to brush aside how everyone perceived their wedding as simply something good, genuinely so, and nothing linked to a false spectacle:
“Maybe it’s more than the festivities. Maybe it’s that we are all so starved for something good to happen that we want to be part of it.”
i don't think i posted doodles of Sundown Summer's loyal steed! he's a starry appaloosa. a... starpaloosa. constelloopa. appastella. he has a body count written in blood
Instead of (or perhaps along with) Hob being proficient in all kinds of weaponry (10/10, amazing trope), give me Hob being proficient in medieval and renaissance instruments and dances.
Give me Hob Gadling who loves the beat of the drums, now that he’s had a few hundred years to remove himself from the battlefield where they used to be played to raise morale and time reloading. Give me Hob Gadling who unironically loves the bagpipes, who knows how to play the bagpipes, who will march across campus belting out a lively traditional melody that only he remembers, much to his students’ delight and his fellow professors’ annoyance. Give me Hob Gadling who can’t help but get up and dance whenever he hears a folk tune because it reminds him of home, of the home he used to have, long before any dark strangers or mentions of immortality. Give me Hob Gadling who teaches renaissance court and country dances as a history class and every time he sees one of his students grinning with the thrill of it, he can almost feel Eleanor standing beside him, reveling in the joy of music and laughter and good company. Give me Hob Gadling who ropes Dream into dancing with him, because they may be the last people on earth who know these steps and Hob isn’t going to let them fade because they’re important, because they’re what make him human.
Give me Hob Gadling who chooses to keep more than just his soldiering expertise alive, whose heart leaps at the first beat, whose feet tap and legs jump and arms weave as he expresses his love for life in every way possible.