Well-behaved Women Seldom Make History.

This is very cool and I’d love to take a look at that movie but does anyone know where I can find it with English subtitles? Or if not, I saw something about it being produced with French subtitles - couldn’t find that one either - but that would work too

Anahit: The Queen Who Made the King Get a Job (Armenian Folk Tale)

Full entry (with footnotes) here. Book here. Patreon here. Art notes and whatnot after the cut - but real quick:

Yes, she already has her own animated princess movie. It’s not in English. It was posted in full by the animation studio here, so I hope it’s okay to embed it:

This version seemingly takes some liberties. Her uncle is in league with some shadow demon, there’s a talking dog, and her horse turns into this fiery magic flying creature…? I don’t know.

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I read the Enola Holmes series in one afternoon like two years ago, and I really enjoyed it! I’m excited for this movie. I’m sure some things that I liked in the books will be missing, since that’s just the way of movies, but I really think I’m going to like this movie anyway!

I’m gonna re-read the series before I watch it though. 

(Also Henry Cavill is playing Sherlock?? So Superman is joining Iron Man and Dr.Strange in being Sherlock Holmes and I think that’s fun)

Solarpunk by Rita Fei

Traces of coca and nicotine found in Egyptian mummies - WTF fun facts

reblogging to keep this for reference because I’ve been getting into embroidery lately

Sophia Drescher on Instagram

From death, life.

They stand before her, and they brandish their weapons callously, carelessly. She knows they mean to kill her – she’s of no use to them. “Don’t run and we’ll make it quick, little girl,” one of them says. “You can join your family.” She knows that he is lying. The world is open before her, and she knows all that may be known.

She can see the silence behind them, the darkness. Death. The void awaits.

The men smirk. They are empty of life and humanity, worn to blood, bone, and sharpened teeth by violence. They expect her to beg. They do not know.

She stands before them, small. Her spine is straight, and her head is high. She meets his eyes.

“No,” she says, and her voice is strong and clear. It is still a girl-child’s voice, but there is something more behind it.

He is taken aback, but something nasty quickly enters his eyes. “More fun for us then,” he tells the others.

“No,” she says again.

“I am not afraid to die.” She tells them, and there is a universe under her skin. She feels her life like a star in her chest, and death like tides in her blood.

They roar with laughter and start forward. They step with heavy feet on soil rich with death. They do not know.

The darkness is behind them, within them, between every atom in the air and in the earth. It is within her. The silence.

“I am not afraid to die,” she repeats, “but today is not my day to die. It is yours.”

The raucous laughter enters the air again, but she can see something like fear rising in the eyes of the wiser ones.

The time for words is over. The silence is here.

She closes her eyes - and breathes. Life is here, she thinks. Death is here, she thinks. Truth rings strong in the silence.

The darkness rises in her like the tides. The empty space between the stars is here, between the pieces of the universe. Void calls to void. The hungry dark will devour all. The shadows grow, and –

She opens her eyes, but there is nothing to see. The dark presses like a living thing against her skin, but she is not afraid. She is part of it, and it a part of her. There is no sound, because the dark and silence swallow all. But she can feel them. She can sense their light growing dim. Their fear grows, as the darkness within answers to the call of the darkness without.

She holds both death and life, light and dark, silence and sound, void and star – in her hands and in her heart. Her light does not fade as the darkness grows. There is no fear in her. She has already passed through the void and emerged.

The lights in the darkness are gone. The sense of nothing presses against her skin. She waits. She knows it is not yet done.

She waits, and the dark waits also, hungry. It is restless and chaotic, and it would consume her given the chance. She remembers the star in her chest. And waits.

And in the consuming darkness, the void of chaos and nothingness, something starts to grow. She smiles in the blackness, and breathes in, bringing air into her lungs where there was none. The light in her chest flares. Her star fills her whole self. The shadows recede. She blinks in the sunlight. There are no men in front of her. There are no more bodies in the streets. There is only rich black soil.

She steps forward and kneels, brushing the dirt away from a bright green seedling. Life.

Apparently it’s going to be raining all week... so here’s a rainy day photo!

aw, sweetheart. this is adorable.

Bedtime cuddles

when I was a kid and I heard the ‘which came first, the chicken or the egg?’ question for the first time, I didn’t understand the big deal. the answer is obvious??

SO I designed this osprey pattern for a stained glass piece, but I cannot for the life of me decide on a color scheme. Thoughts, anyone?

(And by the way, if it occurs to anyone, my profile picture is indeed a stained glass piece that I designed and made myself.)

(Also an osprey is my patronus on pottermore so if I’m being entirely honest that’s what inspired this lol)