He's A Pirate. He's Exiled From Fictional Italy. He's A Theater Kid. His Best Friend Has Anxiety And

Today's children don't know what it was like when half of your photographs would turn out with demonically glowing red eyes.

Bronze head of Hypnos, god of sleep. Circa 1st-2nd century AD. At the British Museum. Via wikimedia (first 2) and the British Museum.

somewhat unrelated, but there's definitely a metaphor in there somewhere about trust and hypervigilance or some other vaguely comparable thing

im too sleepy to string a fully coherent thinkpiece about it tho

People are so stupid about snakes. If there's a little black racer chilling outside just leave it alone, you don't have to kill it, it's probably dealing with all your pests for you, jesus christ

ah yes, the inherent homoeroticism of a sword at your throat

the picrew of dorian gray

Maybe if I was prettier. Or maybe if I was more horrifying actually

*feels both “I am so bored & understimulated I want to do EVERYTHING!” and “I am so exhausted & overwhelmed I can’t do ANYTHING” at the same time*