ARTHUR: I know. I know. Youāre alwaysā¦ worrying about other people. Justā¦ may I share something with you, Antoine?
ANTOINE: Mālord?
ARTHUR: Iāve known youā¦ before.
JOHN: His eyes remain still, fixated on a point in the distance.
ARTHUR: Well, after. I-In actuality. After this. Beyond all of this, Iā¦ Iā¦ canāt explain how, but I know you. W-We never met, um. But I saw the man you were to become.
JOHN: His eyes flick towards us. His eyelids flutter weakly, butā¦ remain open.
ANTOINE: Who was I to become?
ARTHUR: A great man. A passionate, loyal man. Devoted to a causeā¦ unyielding, uh. And u-unapologetically true to yourself. Youā¦ You didā¦ wonderful things.
ANTOINE: Was I kind?
ARTHUR (chuckling): The kindest. Iāve heard. Compassionate, yes, uh. Caringā¦ lovingā¦
ANTOINE: Loving? Did I haveā¦ love?
ARTHUR: The purest kind. The love of your friends.
arts degrees r so funny because you go in class and theyre like What Is A Poem? we dont know for sure... and then moral of the story is we don't know what a poem is. and then the worst part of it is that theyre right
A Plea from the Heart: I Am Fatima, and This Is My Story
My name is Fatima, a teacher from Gaza. I used to work in a small school I loved dearly, planting hope in the hearts of children and teaching them that tomorrow could be better. But the war took everything away. My school was bombed, I lost my job, and our home was reduced to rubble. Yet, I refused to give up. I set up a small tent amid the destruction and continued teaching children, showing them that knowledge is a light that cannot be extinguished, even in the darkest times.
My husband, Akram, was my partner and pillar of support. But he was severely injured in an attack targeting civilians. His abdominal injuries are so severe that he can no longer work or even lift basic items. Every day, I see the pain in his eyes and feel the weight of helplessness, but I try to stay strong for him and for our children.
Our eldest, Manar, is four years old, and sheās missing out on her childhood amidst this devastation. Our youngest, Ibrahim, was born under bombardment just a year ago. He has suffered greatly due to the lack of milk and proper medical care. Yet, sometimes, he smiles, and in those brief moments, I find the strength to keep going.
We now live in a fragile tent that doesnāt shield us from the cold or rain. Every day is a new battle for survival. I write these words while holding my childrenās hands, with nothing left but my faith in God and the hope that your kind hearts will hear our plea.
Please help us provide milk and food for our children, ease Akramās pain, and rebuild even a small part of the life the war has destroyed. Every donation, no matter how small, makes a big difference in our lives.
I ask you to share our story and be our support during this harsh and unforgiving time.
Donation link
I am Fatima, a mother of two, displaced from Gaza, now seeking refuge in Al-Maā¦ Thistle Path needs your support for Help Fatima's family in
every day I see six new fully finished highly symbolic art pieces of eva stratt with a set of scales and lambs and foxes and petrova lines visually paralleling nooses / restraints / trails of blood and rosaries and halos and big dioramas of earth and the sun and the hail mary and different methods of execution and explosions and rocket launches and heavenly / hell fire and allusions to major works in the art canon and I weep for my stomach not being strong enough for me to print out and eat all of them
I took my little brother (autistic, mostly non verbal) out and he was using his voice keyboard to tell me something, and this little boy (maybe 4 or 5?) heard him and asked me "Is he a robot??" I tried to explain to him that no, he isn't a robot, he just communicates differently, but my darling brother was in the background max volume "I am robot I am robot I am robot I am robot"
My little brother insisted if I was going to post about him, he wanted a cut of the "profits". When I explained to him that Tumblr isn't monetized, and is pretty pointless, he and my older brother pointed out that he'd still be bringing me "fame and notoriety" if the post got "big". So we agreed, if the post hit 10k notes, which seemed extremely farfetched and silly at the time, I'd take my little brother out for sushi (his favorite food) and let him eat as much as he wants.
I guess God wanted the little robot to enjoy some sushi š£ š„²
so embarrassing when you finally get around to watching or reading some landmark piece of media well known for having a massive slash fandom and finding yourself completely drawn in by the homoeroticism as well like oh my god has anyone else heard of these kirk and spock guys? sam and frodo? sherlock and watson? anyone else seeing this?
One legitimately weird thing about Tumblr is that we literally canāt code for shit, many people quit working at Tumblr due to a hostile work environment, and we canāt seem to program a simple blogging website to not flood your RAM.
dailybridgerton
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andulkaphoto
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izzy806
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baratheonpilled
