Limnaia

Dirty deeds done for reasonable recompense.

0 notes

Things I hate: unexpectedly encountering Sam Witwer in things and being forcibly reminded of the fact that I will fancy him forever and ever until the end of time on account of the fact that he was Starkiller.

I just missed half the episode of what I was watching because he was sitting there perfectly calmly talking about murderous violence.

Filed under and he voiced darth maul and the emperor be still my beating heart

316 notes

lokiwholockfactory:

insanely-smart:

stillabrit:

Coriolanus….. you know where this is going

celtickaye laterovaries insatiablebookslut vanillabeanlattes beanup generalgemini-booknerd peridotandtrickery persephone622 thalieth jossmayfair mellowmarshal tomslegsarekillingmeslowly jackburtonsays beachgrl76 sierralaufeyson13 ohhowlucky mischabea missviolethunter skadi-again-again quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks triplefuckingnope lokiwtf tomcandanceyourargumentisinvalid shakespearelove

smittentomkitten ophelia-tagloff lokiwholockfactory
Coriolanus-gasm today.

If this photoset continues on that that scene

I am so out.

(via lokiwtf)

Filed under *growl* hello nurse

334 notes

My religion, is not your religion and even if we share the same umbrella, your rain is not my rain and even if we speak to gods of the same name, your conversation is not my conversation, and even though we share the same sunlight, your rainbow isn’t my rainbow, and even though we bleed red blood, your blood type is not my blood type and my injury is not your injury and if I’m not hurting you nor myself you really can go sit in a corner and think about why you can’t stand for anyone else to be happy.
From a PSA (stsathyre.tumblr.com)

(via chaserofstarlight)

0 notes

Crossovers I would not ever have guessed were popular: Harry Potter and Anita Blake.

This post brought to you by ‘I have no one to play the fanfic gross out game with anymore and it saddens me’.

453,218 notes

gundamdick:

thepioden:

hair-old-styles:

harrystyies:

What if oxygen is poisonous and it just takes 75-100 years to kill us?

My science teacher said he thinks that’s true actually

Yeah this is actually pretty much exactly what is going on. It’s why anti-oxidants are such a big deal. Bonus fact: oxygen oxidizes stuff in your cells or, in other words, it’s not toxic, just setting you on fire
very very slowly.

image

…you’re saying I’m slowly burning to death from the inside out?

This is the best news ever.

(Source: cliffordspunk, via lokiwtf)

Filed under i don't know why i love this idea so much

1,352 notes

theopaquemindpalace:

tbskyen:

See that lady in the chair up there? Long story short: she’s more awesome than you, she’s more awesome than me, she’s more awesome than fried bacon Nutella, and she is more awesome than Florence Nightingale.
That lady is Mary Seacole, and this is a
Mary Seacole Appreciation Post
When the Crimean War broke out, Mary Seacole signed up as a nurse. Unfortunately, she was the daughter of a Scotsman and a Jamaican free woman in the Victorian British Empire, which meant she was treated with the kind of respect we reserve for shoplifters and murderers.Well, actually, we still allow murderers and shoplifters to vote, so scratch that and let’s just say fuck Westminster and everyone in it in the 19th century. Except John Stuart Mill, John Stuart Mill was alright, but only because of Harriet Taylor.
Mary Seacole wants to go help out soldiers fighting for the government, the government gives her a big fat middle finger. What does Mary Seacole do? She says “fuck that noise” and goes to the Crimean Peninsula by her goddamn self.  When she gets to the war, she goes to see Florence Nightingale: “Hey, Florence, I want to make people stop dying.” Nightingale says, “no, you’re not white enough and you’ll probably run a brothel or something” and sends her off. So what does Mary Seacole do? She builds a hotel.And I don’t mean, “she buys a shack someone left behind,” no, she builds a hotel, out of wood and iron scraps, on a motherfreaken battlefield, with the help of a few locals who aren’t dead yet. Take a couple of seconds to realize just how much of a badass you have to be to pull that off.
So, she’s got a hotel for British soldiers, all is fine and dandy, right? She’s safely away from the front-line serving tea to officers in her lovely little inn, right? Wrong! Every morning she makes like a gallon of food, loads it on donkeys and goes TOWARDS the explosions, because a bit of murderous artillery isn’t gonna stop  her being awesome. She spends basically the ENTIRE war getting shot at, bringing food to soldiers and dealing with bullet-wounds. And because she’s NOT a nurse or a British doctor, she understands that it’s a really good idea to wash her hands when dealing with sick people, and that keeping wounds clean is the no. 1 way of not putting ten tons of infection in them. Hell, while she’s out on the battlefield anyway, she even heals the ENEMY soldiers because a little bit of war isn’t a good enough reason to make her stop being the badassest lady for twelve million miles around.
Over where Nightingale is messing around, basically if you weren’t infected when you got in, you were GONNA be once you’d been there a while. Soldiers are croaking left and right and all around because they’re stuffed wall to wall and no-one knows how to spell the word “hygiene” yet. Not Nightingale’s fault, really, so much as all the stupid male doctors who didn’t understand how to listen to really smart Hungarians. You got shot in the Crimean, you wanted to go see Seacole. Cholera, yellow fever, dysentery? Seacole’s got your back. Hungry? Seacole makes, like, the BEST rice-pudding.
I want you to understand that when the Crimean War breaks out, Seacole is 48 years old. This at a time when people had a serious tendency to die before they were 30. It’s basically the equivalent of a 70-year old going to Afghanistan to help topple the Taliban!And then, after the war is over, not only is she one of the last people to go home, she’s also dirt poor because she spent all her money buying food and medicine for the soldiers and when the war was over she had to sell it to the freaken Russians just to get the creditors off her back. Poor and outliving like 80% of the general population ALREADY, she goes home to live another 25 years, as if she had yet to prove how much tougher she was than absolutely everybody else alive on the planet.
She’s impoverished, old and living in a society that mostly hates her for reflecting slightly less sunlight than they do, so what does she spend her time doing? Raising funds for charity. Like, obviously! Then, in 1857, the Indian Rebellion breaks out and people start dying again. At this point Seacole has spent over 3 years in war and poverty, basically having a footrace with Death, but the first damn thing she does is try and go to India to help people out. It takes the freaken Secretary of War to get her to stay home.
In 1881, Seacole dies at 76, and for the next 100 years, all anyone can talk about is how awesome Florence Nightingale was. It’s not until now in the 21st freaken century that anyone is particularly bothering to remember the single most awesome Scottish-Jamaican super-nurse ever, or include her in textbooks and history-classes. My point is this: let’s remember her on Tumblr.
"I have witnessed her devotion and her courage … and I trust that England will never forget one who has nursed her sick, who sought out her wounded to aid and succour them and who performed the last offices for some of her illustrious dead."—William Howard Russel, one of the first modern war-correspondents. 

Because how can I NOT reblog such awesome history?

theopaquemindpalace:

tbskyen:

See that lady in the chair up there? Long story short: she’s more awesome than you, she’s more awesome than me, she’s more awesome than fried bacon Nutella, and she is more awesome than Florence Nightingale.

That lady is Mary Seacole, and this is a

Mary Seacole Appreciation Post

When the Crimean War broke out, Mary Seacole signed up as a nurse. Unfortunately, she was the daughter of a Scotsman and a Jamaican free woman in the Victorian British Empire, which meant she was treated with the kind of respect we reserve for shoplifters and murderers.
Well, actually, we still allow murderers and shoplifters to vote, so scratch that and let’s just say fuck Westminster and everyone in it in the 19th century. Except John Stuart Mill, John Stuart Mill was alright, but only because of Harriet Taylor.

Mary Seacole wants to go help out soldiers fighting for the government, the government gives her a big fat middle finger. What does Mary Seacole do? She says “fuck that noise” and goes to the Crimean Peninsula by her goddamn self.  When she gets to the war, she goes to see Florence Nightingale: “Hey, Florence, I want to make people stop dying.” Nightingale says, “no, you’re not white enough and you’ll probably run a brothel or something” and sends her off. So what does Mary Seacole do? She builds a hotel.
And I don’t mean, “she buys a shack someone left behind,” no, she builds a hotel, out of wood and iron scraps, on a motherfreaken battlefield, with the help of a few locals who aren’t dead yet. Take a couple of seconds to realize just how much of a badass you have to be to pull that off.

So, she’s got a hotel for British soldiers, all is fine and dandy, right? She’s safely away from the front-line serving tea to officers in her lovely little inn, right? Wrong! Every morning she makes like a gallon of food, loads it on donkeys and goes TOWARDS the explosions, because a bit of murderous artillery isn’t gonna stop  her being awesome. She spends basically the ENTIRE war getting shot at, bringing food to soldiers and dealing with bullet-wounds. And because she’s NOT a nurse or a British doctor, she understands that it’s a really good idea to wash her hands when dealing with sick people, and that keeping wounds clean is the no. 1 way of not putting ten tons of infection in them. Hell, while she’s out on the battlefield anyway, she even heals the ENEMY soldiers because a little bit of war isn’t a good enough reason to make her stop being the badassest lady for twelve million miles around.

Over where Nightingale is messing around, basically if you weren’t infected when you got in, you were GONNA be once you’d been there a while. Soldiers are croaking left and right and all around because they’re stuffed wall to wall and no-one knows how to spell the word “hygiene” yet. Not Nightingale’s fault, really, so much as all the stupid male doctors who didn’t understand how to listen to really smart Hungarians. You got shot in the Crimean, you wanted to go see Seacole. Cholera, yellow fever, dysentery? Seacole’s got your back. Hungry? Seacole makes, like, the BEST rice-pudding.

I want you to understand that when the Crimean War breaks out, Seacole is 48 years old. This at a time when people had a serious tendency to die before they were 30. It’s basically the equivalent of a 70-year old going to Afghanistan to help topple the Taliban!
And then, after the war is over, not only is she one of the last people to go home, she’s also dirt poor because she spent all her money buying food and medicine for the soldiers and when the war was over she had to sell it to the freaken Russians just to get the creditors off her back. Poor and outliving like 80% of the general population ALREADY, she goes home to live another 25 years, as if she had yet to prove how much tougher she was than absolutely everybody else alive on the planet.

She’s impoverished, old and living in a society that mostly hates her for reflecting slightly less sunlight than they do, so what does she spend her time doing? Raising funds for charity. Like, obviously! Then, in 1857, the Indian Rebellion breaks out and people start dying again. At this point Seacole has spent over 3 years in war and poverty, basically having a footrace with Death, but the first damn thing she does is try and go to India to help people out. It takes the freaken Secretary of War to get her to stay home.

In 1881, Seacole dies at 76, and for the next 100 years, all anyone can talk about is how awesome Florence Nightingale was. It’s not until now in the 21st freaken century that anyone is particularly bothering to remember the single most awesome Scottish-Jamaican super-nurse ever, or include her in textbooks and history-classes. My point is this: let’s remember her on Tumblr.

"I have witnessed her devotion and her courage … and I trust that England will never forget one who has nursed her sick, who sought out her wounded to aid and succour them and who performed the last offices for some of her illustrious dead."—William Howard Russel, one of the first modern war-correspondents. 

Because how can I NOT reblog such awesome history?

(via theemperorsfeather)

Filed under Mary Seacole was a goddamn hero

428,843 notes

ofbloodandstorms:

breelandwalker:

onamelancholyhill:

t3mplvr:

miss-love:

thepsycheofdee:

66-seals-of-fuck-you:

concernedresidentofbakerstreet:

scumsucking-roadwh0re:

#DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME IM NOT OVER THIs

friendly reminder that when the actor who played khal drogo met the actress who plays daenerys he shouted “WIFEY!” and tackled her

Also reminder that during one of the sex scenes they were supposed to film, he came on with a sock puppet on his dick and Emilia Clarke was laughing so hard they had to take a ten minute break. 

​My life is
INFINITELY better knowing those tidbits of information

at the Q&A panel I went to with him he said before every sex scene with her he would go “I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY” before getting into character and going at it

these two are everything

these two pls

THEIR LOVE IS LEGENDARY

Also a friendly reminder that in the actual ASoIaF books, Khal Drogo and Daenerys Targaryen were legitimately in love and had a completely consensual and loving relationship.

(via satdeshret)

Filed under still not over this shit

0 notes

This song is not for the living. This song is for the dead.
With my face against the floor, I can see you knocked me out of the way.
I don’t want to get back up, but I have to and it might as well be today.
Nothing appeals to me. No one feels like me.
I’m too busy being calm to disappear.
I’m in no shape to be alone, contrary to the shit that you might hear.
So walk with me, walk with me,
don’t let this symbolism kill your heart.
Walk with me, walk with me,
just like we should’ve done right from the start.
Walk with me, walk with me,
don’t let this fucking world tear you apart.

Filed under jim's song of the now so many goddamn feels my boys

13,568 notes

queerboochananbarnes:

boosexualavenger:

Every time a cis person reblogs a gender of the day a fairy dies

srsly cis friends

image

it’s in their FAQ stating specifically for you not to reblog the gender of the day. genderoftheday is a blog for non-cis people, their posts are for non-cis people. please respect that.

(via mirateski)

Filed under this i know the posts are really good i love them too but your actions take place in a context and in this context doing the same thing as I do but being cis and doing it send a really different message that make me and others like me feel unsafe i know you don't want to do that so don't do this

56,886 notes

theclericsdiary:

chthoniclullaby:

wicked-bitch-of-thewest:

webuiltthepyramids:

thispopculture:

legallyblained:

hips don’t lie by oxford university’s all male choir

wow

Yes.

I have been waiting my whole life for this. I didn’t know this was something I needed, but not I can’t deny

I am so fucking glad I paused Kinky Boots for this

theclericsdiary

*turns it up loud and dances like a dork*

(via lokiwtf)

Filed under these young gentlemen look like they're having fun

1 note

Spending all day writing and journeying and spending time with my gods and my spirits is lovely, truly it is - but I have to try and remember how to talk to other humans afterwards. In that I have to actually say words instead of just communicating in feelings or memories or illusions. 

Filed under my spooky husbands