messlikemessina

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when theres only one bed but you have a zombie bite or three

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100 billion dollars cash to anyone who can name these three characters

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"these researchers published a paper on something that literally any of us could have told you 🙄" ok well my supervisors wont let me write something in my thesis unless I can back it up with a citation so maybe it's a good thing that they're amplifying your voice to the scientific community in a way that prevents people from writing off your experiences as annecdotal evidence

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She is just floating around the Blue void like a fucking Disney princess

Joan of Arc by jinglin Xu

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Joan of Arc by jinglin Xu

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[guy with the Cant Focus Disorder] why the fuck can't I focus

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One of my favorite stories to tell about myself from when I was a kid is the story how my grandma’s “Catching Fairies” game was banned because of me

So when I was really little my grandma had this game she made up, she’d give me and all my cousins jars and containers and tell us that in her garden there were fairies but they were smart and tricky so they disguised themselves as caterpillars and butterflies and as grasshoppers and worms.

Whoever caught the most ‘Fairies’ won but we had to set them all free because they tended to the garden

One summer day my brothers were at the age they were dreading ‘girly’ stuff so I was playing alone

At this point I had met all the fairies in the garden and I was getting bored without any competition and with finding the same old fairies

But then just as I was begrudgingly heading back to my grandma with the same fairies as usual I found a new fairy!

I thought she was so beautiful! She was resting on the sparkly thread in the leaves and her black body gleamed in the sunlight, she had long legs and a cool red spot on her back

Excited I coaxed her onto my hand and was so giddy I found a new one! I rushed back to the farm house to show my Grandma and Dad, gently carrying my new friend.

But when my Dad and Grandma turned around to see what fairy I caught I saw the color drain from their faces and both of them freeze, I could tell something was wrong but didn’t understand

My dad congratulated me and asked me if he could see the pretty fairy, I let him but felt a little nervous seeing how terrified he looked as she moved into his hands from mine.

Slowly he walked back towards the door, my grandma clutching my shoulders then my dad LAUNCHED the fairy back into the garden which I thought was rather rude

Then we had a nice long talk about Black Widow spiders

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STOP. moment of gratitude for those precious times of breathing from your nostrils when you don't have a stuffy nose

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hate when people think the only archetype possible for a male sidekick to a female protagonist is a soft boi and/or himbo. like the implication there is that the only reason a man would ever defer to a woman’s authority is if he was a bumbling idiot. love male supporting characters who are smart and strong and confident and can step up when necessary but still kind and humble enough to let someone else take the lead most of the time

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“to be a woman is to experience pain”“to be a woman is to perform”“to be a woman is to-” SHUT UP SHUT UP 💥💥💥💥

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we need to be doing everything in our power to acquire and consume tiramisu

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broooo did you seriously disturb my eternal rest & bring me back to this mortal coil just because my ancient enemy the eternal night has returned? after i sealed it away and everything? which one of you tampered with my binding runes 🙄

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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

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was thinking about bear/bare

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Do you think when the villagers starting telling tales about Gloreth she corrected them, and eventually as time went on she starting going with it, with their stories? Do you think after a while their stories became all she remembered of what happened? Do you think their version of Nimona became the only one she knew, her memories of their friendship twisted and faded?

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Found myself thinking about Nimona stuff at three in the morning (as you do) and something came to mind:

You know how both Gloreth and the Director tell Nimona „go back to the shadows from whence you came“? Well I thought about those instances and I thought about the setting and the lighting when it was said.

The first time, Gloreth says it and is backlit by the fire. She‘s almost glowing, and the light in her back casts Nimona in her shadow. Nimona is in the dark, the „shadows from whence she came“ basically

The second time, when the Director says it, SHE is the one in the dark (in that cockpit of the canon). And the main light source, the brightest light illuminating the entire city - that’s Nimona in her Phoenix form. She is not in the shadows, she is light, she is literally chasing the shadows away right then.

Don’t know if that was intentional, but sure hope it was cuz it is a badass way to utilize visual cues

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Ok guys hear me out

Since I first watched Nimona I thought this moment was very full of emotions. Not only Nimonas.

All the time since Gloreth first saw Nimona change she knew it was different.

Nimona changed into a bird to get her the apple off the tree and Gloreths first instinct was looking back to the village if anyone saw them! She knew it was something noone else did and that it might be seen as strange.

Yet Gloreth didn't care! She just didn't want anyone to see it.

Every time we see Nimona change and play with Gloreth they were alone. And in the village Nimona always looked like a little girl.

Then the 'bear fight' happened and they landed in town! Of course people thought a bear attacked Gloreth but Nimona thought if she changes to little girl everything would be good but we know that it only made them fear *her*!

Gloreth said Nimona was her friend and when her Mum said "she is a monster" she looked skeptical.

But after seeing her friend got attacked by townsfolk, her parents, whom you usally think as good people who never would bad things happen to your loved ones basically told her Nimona deserved for being different Gloreth saw how the world truly worked.

Different was treated violently!

But even after the fire and the pain Nimona suffered she wouldn't leave her friend.

So Gloreth did! She told Nimona to go away (the word might be exasparated later on, with her suddenly being a full groen knight and all) and to make her run she pointed the sword at her.

But there is no hate or anger in her face! Only a grimm determination!

The statue looks full of hate here so symbolize how "Gloreth hated all monsters" but I think she was just a kid who didn't know what else to do in this moment.

And no adult wanted to listen to her.

Kids aren't judgmental from the start. They learn it from parents and society. And sometimes even when they realize it might be wrong they can feel powerless because noone wants to acknowledge their opinions.