Pascalslilpunk - Antler

I feel sad what should I do

*opens tumblr for the 37392937th time*

Mizumono

jungkook ⟡ speak yourself in shizuoka making film

cr. namuspromised

this quote is so funny to me because yeah no shit. why do you think we ship them babe????😭 why do you think we find their depth and complexity fascinating? why do you think we find the angst and the tension delicious? why do you think we want them covered in each other’s blood? why do you think we like rough and violent hate sex?

“maturing is realizing this is not the look of love” what’s next? maturing is realizing murders shown in horror movies are bad if applied to irl scenarios? maturing is realizing gore depicted in slasher films are not good if applied to irl scenarios?

maturing is realizing it’s fucking fiction and being able to separate that from reality 😭 you grow tf up and stop being chronically online please. or better yet, try watching nbc hannibal and figuring out why they call will and hannibal murder husbands.

maturing is knowing this is fiction and it’s hot.

My pumpkin for the year, I hate to carve so I painted it. I’m not super happy with it but it’s whatever

squit game 2 teasers got me acting Unwise…….

Apulian Red-figure skyphos depicting the myth of Actaeon, ca 400 - 350 BC

In which Will and Hannibal have a brief conversation about divine law and expectations.

“Are you familiar with the story of Actaeon, Will?”

A digression. Another digression. He’s used to these by now.

“I can tell you want to tell me whether I have or not.”

A tilt of the head, a not-quite smile. Hannibal is, in most things, the elegance of restraint.

“I do not mean to bore you with my recounting.”

“Tell me.”

“Actaeon is a great hunter. He stumbles upon the goddess Diana bathing in the woods.”

“And I assume a swift overreaction followed.”

“The punishment of gods can never be said to be an over, or indeed under, reaction. Divine law is always a matter of poetic justice.”

“What does she do to him?”

“His punishment for this transgression is to be transformed into a stag. Only to be torn apart by his own dogs, who no longer recognize him for who he was.”

He laughs. He can’t help it. This is on the nose, even for Hannibal.

Hannibal doesn’t even blink, watching him.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of warning?”

“Do you see a warning in it?”

“A hunter torn apart by his own dogs? Yeah, it’s hard not to.”

“You place yourself in the role of the transgressor, not the transgressed.” He notes mildly “Do you ever find yourself worrying that one day your fellow investigators might mistake you for quarry?”

Does he? Of course he does. Every day. Every time he steps onto another crime scene. Hannibal knows that.

“As long as there aren’t any skinny-dipping goddesses around, I think I should be fine.”

“Do you believe that Actaeon knew what he would find?” Hannibal asks, “Perhaps he did not expect to see her any more than you might.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? He was a hunter. Whatever he expected, the end result was always going to be the same, whether he saw a goddess or not.”

“What result?” Hannibal tilts his head again, a clock-work mimic of interest.

“Spilled blood and baying hounds.”

Birthday Sirius ✨️

the most beautiful moment in life