Numi

I'm only saying this for your sake, but objectively, it's not a smart idea to bring politics into normal hobbies. You might lose supporters of your blog just because of your political stance, and that would be terrible since you're so amazing!! It's only a suggestion, but I really reccomend not bringing politics into anything.

Love without Sex

Crystals study

So this is just an observation from someone who is pretty new to the fandoms involved and has just been consuming all the old vods from the Antarctic Empire days. But it seems to me that Technoblade's interaction with his chat is one where the chat demands chaos and he steadfastedly holds to a certain code of honor and decorum in spite of their demands. Whereas Philza's interaction with his chat, while there are demands for chaos from the chat, is much more of a give and take where Philza will sometimes act chaotically of his own accord because it's funny. Philza is basically a fae that will murder a man and laugh at his demise, where Techno spends more time resisting the demands for blood than actually going for kills.

something about the idea that c!tommy, at the end of things, dyes his hair pink. He lets it grow out, braids it back once it gets to the point where just throwing a hat on won’t fix it anymore, and one day he looks in the mirror and sees Techno staring back at him. Just for a split second, he’s there in the glass, and it’s like a bolt of lightning, Tommy scrambling through his chests looking for pink dye or flowers or something. The first dye job is atrocious but he keeps trying, keeps mixing red and white and blush pink until he gets that exact damn shade, the one he used to wonder why Techno kept at all. It was a liability, he thought, a bright, recognizable color even in darkness. Now, every two weeks, he sits on a stool in his bathroom and paints his roots and smiles at his brother in the mirror. He wears sweaters, now, too, big baggy ones under great leather overcoats to keep out the rain. And if he pulls that one thread on the cuff of every coat that was always loose on Wilbur’s jackets because he’d scrape his guitar calluses against the hem, then that’s nobody’s business but his own. He keeps a brimmed hat for when he goes into town, something kind and green, to shade his eyes and hide the fact that he hasn’t washed his hair in a few days and the roots are starting to grow out white and gold. He feeds the crows and they whirl and tumble around him like leaves in the wind, though he can’t understand what they chatter to him. He walks with a cane, he sings as he works, he carries the Ax of Peace.

Phil going out to get armour for the dog army he keeps before Techno's memorial and dying it colours that remind him of his best friend....my heart guys.

roach

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