#this is SO CONCEPTUALLY FUN

[kuwdora]

i started howling when listening to Welcome to Paradise on the Gameboy, lmao, this is so much fun. also it's been fucking forever since I saw a site design that was able to evoke 90s web nostalgia while still having contemporary and functional design elements. bravo.

Green Day “demastered” their 1994 album Dookie into 15 “obscure, obsolete, and inconvenient” formats, like wax cylinder, Fisher Price record, Teddy Ruxpin, and player piano roll. This is amazing.

[msfcatlover]

Jean-Paul Valley is legitimately so fucking funny to me, I wish he showed up in more fanfics. Like. This man has no idea what he’s capable of, because it was hypnotically implanted in his sleep. Right up until he got sent off to the Cult of St. Dumas (in his 20s), he was the most normal guy you’ve ever met in your life. But all that training, that’s in him on an instinctual level. This man is a born ninja, he can fight as good as Batman, he can sneak good enough that Batman & Robin sometimes miss him. And he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. The comedy gold you could tap with just him going about his daily life is unparalleled.

He’s also built like Batman, and his passion is computer science. Imagine calling IT or your friend says they know someone who can fix your computer, only for the person who shows up to be a +6ft blonde dude who looks like he spends every day at the gym. Then he opens his mouth and he’s one of the most polite, humble, eager-to-please people you’ve ever met in your life. The whiplash this giant nerd gives to people must be insane.

I could legitimately write an essay on how much I love his dorky little glasses as a piece of character design. There’s so much personality in those glasses, I love them so much.

Also, and I cannot emphasize this enough: he’s not a good detective, and he hates the sight of blood.

Funniest member of the batfam by a country mile.

[suntails]

knighted

[astrobei]

make me long for your kiss

[yunogf]

alternative covers for NCT 127's original cyberpunk game 2 BADDIES

[venusiinfurss]

i truly think sunny is going to end with either macdennis kiss or macdennis full penetration (no in-between) and then dennis has an existential crisis walks outside gets hit by a car and dies. cut to black end of series

[daily-castiel]

Day 12

[ahomeonfire]

“he’s a weird, dorky little guy”

[janederscore]

tmes will log on and be like "teehee time to piss off some TERFS today....... sometimes ☝️ trans women are more epic than cis women 😊" and get 533247874497 notes instantly

[averlym]

"We are pleased to inform you that you have been awarded the Phaethon Prize...."

[consumeroflemoans]

Desperately need a fic that is the mxtx couples unintentionally falling into a polycule i have so many ideas for crossovers

[smile-files]

a blackhole of happiness, greedy for the light it cannot give back

[niightfiend]

A Meow Skulls x Jules concept I created since Meowdas came out :)

[brodyfoxxsmassivetits]

I love your Eduardo so much I want to spin him until he gets the dizzy spiral eyes ❤️

meant to get to this ask a bit ago but got burnt out...I however NEVER refuse excuses to doodle my fave

tysm for the ask also!!!per usual :3

various eduardoodles...

also...daduardo....uhh middle ageduardo????? barbecue daduardo...working name

has like a kid or two and shouts at the TV over sports he doesn't care about

I too enjoy Eduardo quite a bit it is cause I am

.strange

[yunogf]

alternative covers for NCT 127's original horror game FAVORITE: VAMPIRE

[charleemoon]

hii omg i love your hannibal content - especially your takes on will i swear you understand him the most ever !! <3 i was just wonderingggg (im sorry this is dark) what do you think wills reaction would be if hannibal died a few years post fall?? im interested in your vision honestly haha

okay oh my god i had to sit down and turn my pc on for this

warning for death, emetophobia, suicidal ideation

i think the responses would vary slightly depending on his cause of death. i think the most realistic for them would be hannibal falling ill. they're not sure what it is. an infection, something autoimmune. hannibal's always been attentive to their health, but whatever it is, it slips under their radar. will tries everything, he waits on him hand and foot, the whole world stops. the medications don't help, the check-ups lead to nothing new. hannibal speaks often of god's cruelty, rapsy with chapped lips and burning skin. he doesn't seem troubled. it's almost like he's been waiting for it–the clock ticking down since he was eight, the other shoe about to drop. will tries not to beg, tries not to bargain.

every moment with him, reading his books out to him in broken french, cajun accented and ugly on his tongue. basic meals that will toughens out, burning the fish and the underside of the pan with how often he zones out, body tingling with unreality. for so long, will thought hannibal near invulnerable. they survived a fatal fall, outran the fbi, nothing could touch them. and here they are, hannibal sickly and thin, stag-like and small. he tries not to weep.

when he dies, it's not grand, not beautiful. will has his head on hannibal's chest, hears the broken whisper of mischa's name, and quietly, almost like it fears impoliteness, the beat of hannibal's heart stills under his ear. he doesn't move. he doesn't sob. he just lays on hannibal, and waits to die with him. waits for his heart to stutter and explode in his chest. for them to die together, for their bodies to rot in this house until someone finds them, decomposing and growing into each other. to finally be united as one. it doesn't come. it never comes

the next few days feel like forever. he doesnt leave the room. he doesn't move, just lays in bed with hannibal. relishes every twitch of his body in rigor mortis, holds him until he's frigid cold to the touch, caressing his bone white knuckles. he lays with him until the smell is unbearable, the decomposing meat sweet and pungent. will hunches over and vomits roughly on the hardwood floor, all foam and stomach acid. it wakes him out of his stupor, dizzy and nauseous.

hannibal hated waste. he would hate to rot away in this bed, purposeless and empty. hannibal was so, so beautiful, and he deserved to be part of the world's endless beauty. he, in death, deserves to be elevated to even more.

he uses every part of hannibal. stitches his hair into his fishing lures, soap and candles out of his fat, lathering himself in hannibal, warmed and alight at night with his burning flesh. carved the bone of his annulary into a ring that he wears on his own. they hadn't gotten married yet, will was going to propose this year. he was already hannibal's, and hannibal was his.

he buries the rest of hannibal in the backyard the way he did his childhood dog. he uses him as compost for the garden they always planned to start. he starts studying hannibal's recipes, tastes the vegetables like hannibal's organs, plump and raw on his tongue. hannibal spoken once, broken and with a smile, about will eating him. will wouldn't listen then, and he waited too long now. with their garden, hannibal could be in every meal will has for as long as he can maintain it.

will still kills, but not as often now. him and hannibal had different ideas of rudeness, of righteousness. there wasn't much need to compromise anymore, and it wasn't the same without him. killing was a form of intimacy, of retribution. it feels horribly lonely without his company. he wonders how hannibal stomached doing it like this for so long. now that he knew what killing was like together, everything paled in comparsion.

he kills and elevates, brings beauty to the world when hannibal cannot. at times though, he is wrought with anger, impulsivity. he'll hear a nasty word, a privileged scoff, an underhanded comment on the sick and the dying. things that remind him of hannibal, the ungratefulness, the disgusting spouts out of the mouths of those who no clue what it's like to lose. sometimes he drags them by their hair, beats their face until their skulls cave in. he shudders at the sight, destruction so extreme there's nothing to harvest. hannibal keeps finding new ways to change him, to make him weak, even in death. it almost makes him happy.

he wonders a lot of things about hannibal. questions he never asked, things he wasn't certain of. despite the years, they were slow, and gentle. there wasn't any need to rush into things. they had their whole lives to get to know each other. that's what he told himself. he looks into his family, studies the books he read, his jotted notes and underlines. he relearns loving hannibal, grows to understand him without him there.

the community is nice where they've settled. it's kind, close-knit. they usually had to make their way into the city to find anyone rude enough for their tastes. he volunteers, frequents the libraries and holiday celebrations. they're so sorry for his loss, always sorry. he wears hannibal's clothes out, smells the collar when he feels socially awkward, nervous. he's there, hes with him. he fidgets the bone ring on his finger to soothe himself, akin to how he used to stroke his thumb along hannibal's smooth skin, gentle caresses in public and in bed.

most of all, will starts going to church again. not to pray, or worship. not to beg for hannibal back, demand answers for god's cruelty. he knows why. god is cruel because it feels good. he goes to show him. an insult to him and all he takes away. he stands in the pews and stares into the eyes of christ. will lives and he shows god every way that he defies him.

he never dates again. its not even a thought. he's asked out every now and then, once enough time as passed. they say he's widowed, he's not. will is hannibal's, always. he lives, he grows. he takes care of himself, follows his passions and pursuits. he thinks of death often, but continues on, knowing hannibal would take endless grief in will wasting his life, his beautiful mind blown a hole through with the shotgun under the bed. will has no faith in death to be anything at all, no belief that god would be kind enough to allow will to see hannibal once more. he lives, and he keeps living. but he is displaced, empty. never truly satisfied, never truly happy. and how could he be? he is but one half of a man, after all