If Will dies first, it is obvious Hannibal would cannibalize Will’s flesh. Hannibal mourned Mischa by eating her, and he would do the same for Will; to consume and eat and incorporate is part of grieving. But what would Hannibal do with Will’s bones? He’d eat the marrow, maybe make soup from them, but what of the calcified parts that remain, the parts that can’t be eaten?
I don’t really see him just keeping them around or displaying them, something stagnant and to be ogled. Burying them in the family plot in Lithuania makes sense because Will is family, but it also requires Hannibal to go back to a place he can’t go. Hannibal could cremate the bones, but then what? Spreading the ashes doesn’t seem like something he would do; he can’t know what happens to them. Keeping Will in an urn on his desk or a shelf also feels out of character, a memory collecting dust.
What if Hannibal had Will’s ashes pressed into pencil lead? There are ways to compress ashes into something that could be written with or drawn. What if Hannibal draws Will with his own ashes, commemorating him in a completed cycle. Sketching the man with his own remains. Remembering Will as he saw him, recreating moments they shared from Hannibal’s mind palace. Having Will live forever in depictions of himself. Hannibal would never be truly left behind. And Hannibal would sharpen the pencils as he always had; he isn’t unfamiliar with taking a blade to Will. Shaving off a layer but keeping him sharp.
Displaying and keeping art made from Will’s ashes would mean so much more than a reconstructed skeleton or an urn on a shelf or a plot that would become overgrown with weeds. He could draw Will in motion, alive, as he wished to remember him, and create moments and memories they didn’t get to experience together.
Blond people
The first time that England hated blond people was also the first time that he hated himself. He was running, trying to catch his brothers and he wondered "is this the meaning of family?" "helplessly trying to be loved?". He got his answer hours later when they try to drown him for the first time. That is when he saw it. His reflection on the river. He saw his green eyes, his pale skin and his blond hair. He saw everything that he wasn't and everything that he should be. And then he hated himself. And then he blamed himself. He blamed on himself that his brothers didn't love him, he blamed on himself that he could never have a family, he blamed on himself that his mother always looked at him pity. And then he hated his brothers. And then hated what it meant to live.
not to DSMP on main my mostly hermit-adjacent sideblog but seriously. techno’s red festival stream was the first stream I watched live, back when I didn’t even properly know what DSMP was yet (I was just there because I’d recently gotten into techno) and it’s still VERY memorable to me.
anyway instead of talking about literally any of the lore implications that had, a few of my favorite really stupid moments that made me laugh:
- the entire bit with techno, fundy, and the dunk tank. “hold on I need to take a break from drowning to get a glass of water” “WHYYYY”
- techno asking basically every other festival attendant “so, got any vital state secrets you want to talk about?”
- techno hearing wilbur complain about how he couldn’t find an important button, looking in his inventory to see like six wooden buttons he’d picked up somehow, and going “UHHH WHOOPS” (note: these were probably from the docks not The Button but)
- techno’s chat spamming “JFK” at every opportunity
- techno scrolling through the approximately twelve “subscribe to technoblade” death messages and laughing incredulously because even he didn’t know he could do that
- after techno gave his dramatic “the only universal language is violence” speech and ended with a dark little chuckle there was a moment of silence and then tommy, loudly, to break the tension: “SO PINK SUS”
yes the festival was dramatic and angsty but also. so many funny moments I remember felt like talking about those again because they were FUN.
c!wilbur has spent so much time trying to be this grand figure, trying to prove his worth, trying to be worthy of anything, to prove that he's worth remembering and being loved!! he spiraled down so so far that he thought life wasn't worth living anymore! and in the end, after everything, he decided that the only thing he wanted was to go home! that's everything to me!
hey chat did you guys know there's a whole website with informational videos on the rights you hold when interacting with ICE or witnessing interactions with ICE. all written by immigrants and for immigrants. idk man it'd be a shame if people watched these informational videos y'know.
La música suena. Los invitados bailan. Los hombres ríen y las mujeres cantan. Se escucha un disparo, la sangre corre, las mujeres gritan, los hombres luchan. El enemigo ha llegado, con pistolas, bombas y sed de sangre. El palacio ahora está cubierto de sangre y vino, el bello color azul de las cortinas ahora esta manchado por un hermoso carmesí. El enemigo se ríe, sabe que todo se ha acabado, sabe que acabo la guerra y que él es el ganador. Ya no hay nadie que luche, nadie que le recrimine por la sangre en el suelo, ya no hay nada.
La chica llora, sabe que la encontraran, sabe que el enemigo está cerca y que pronto deberá luchar. Pero también sabe que no podrá hacer nada. Reza por su hermano y por su padre. No le importa el hecho de que no va a ganar cuando luche, mientras sea tiempo suficiente para que su familia escape. Agarra el cuchillo con fuerza y se pone de pie. El enemigo ha llegado. Y el momento de luchar también.
Feeling… thoughtful… about them……
These recent chapters doin numbers for my brain waves. Give me more, Oda, i stg.