!! ERHA CHAPTER 97 SPOILERS !!
"How could you say he didn't save you?!"

izzy's playlists!

No title available
sheepfilms
wallacepolsom

tannertan36
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

PR's Tumblrdome
Today's Document
h
NASA
d e v o n

Andulka

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Show & Tell
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Keni
Peter Solarz

Discoholic 🪩

#extradirty
YOU ARE THE REASON

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Indonesia
seen from Venezuela
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Dominican Republic
seen from Türkiye
@yuhengwanye
!! ERHA CHAPTER 97 SPOILERS !!
"How could you say he didn't save you?!"
Nevertheless he reached across and took the piece of chalk, saying 'Will I tell you about my bell, so?'
'Oh yes!' she cried. 'I am longing to hear about your bell.'
'This, you must understand, is the bell seen sideways,' he said, drawing on the lamplit floor. 'Its height is eight feet; the window at the top is a yard across, as near as no matter; the width here, where the bench runs across, is a little better than four feet six; and the whole contains fifty-nine cubic feet of air!'
'Fifty-nine cubic feet?' said Laura Fielding: she had had a very long, very hard day, and a more attentive ear might have caught a note of despair under the bright, intelligent interest.
'Fifty-nine cubic feet to begin with, of course,' said Stephen, drawing two dwarfish figures on the bench and adding in parenthesis 'There sat the worthy Captain Dundas, and there sat I- elbow-room galore, as you see. But naturally as the bell sank, as it was lowered away a couple of fathoms, the water rose, compressing the air, so that we felt a certain pringling in our ears. When it reached the bench we raised our feet, thus,' - setting his own on the sofa - 'and plucked the cord, the signal for the barrel.' He drew the barrel with its two bung-holes and its leather hose travelling down guidelines to the lower edge of the bell, explaining that it was not quite to scale. 'Down it came, the good barrel, compressing its own air as it came, do you see? We seized the hose, and the moment we raised it above the surface - the surface of the water in the barrel, you understand - the compressed air rushed into the bell with inconceivable force and the water sank from the bench to the lower rim! And so the barrels came down one after another and so the dear bell sank, the light growing a little dim, but not too dim to read or write, oh no. We had lead slabs to write on with an iron stylus, which we sent up with a string; and to let out the vitiated air, so that it was always fresh, there was a little cock at the top. Will I draw you my little cock?'
Eventually he brought the bell to the bottom, and making a last effort she said 'The bottom of the sea, Mother of God: and what did you find there?'
'Worms!' he cried.'Such worms. Marine worms in great abundance… It was there that I made an inconsiderate step into the fetid mud of ages, yet it scarcely disturbed any but the nearest. These were of the plumed kind known as…'
At the beginning of his account of the Maltese annelids he noticed that her bosom was heaving. He knew very well that it was not heaving for him but he did not realize that grief was the cause until he reached the bizarre mating habits of Polychaeta rubra, when to his intense embarrassment and distress he saw tears coursing down her cheeks. His exposition faltered; their eyes met; she gave him a painfully artificial smile and then her chin trembled and she broke into passionate weeping at last.
--Treason's Harbour
Laughing at my own tags and the whole scene again.
I love this book so much for being a spin on all those spy novels.. instead of sexy and suave spy male protagonist we have Stephen.. And instead of the typical femme fatale we have Laura who just... Really doesnt want to be in that situation. So its all so beautifully awkward.
you guys can’t fucking do anything
No creativity no innovation no nothing. Just dead minds where a living organ once sat, torn out in pieces by an unfeeling machine in the name of shares.
the enlightened pervert can look beyond kink to find meaning. and then get horny about the meaning instead.
@solipseismic thank u for the insight 🫡
“Protestant” is often used as a catch-all, but it flattens the depth of protestantism. There are many types of protestants. Presbyterians. Lutherans. Baptists. Continental reformed. Methodists. The Society of St Pius X.
The Corlys hate right now is so funny. He literally is right.
Helaena Targaryen and Rhaenyra Targaryen in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 3.03 "Rhaenyra Triumphant"
Oh, Alicent did *not* tell her about that
Marc Librizzi
How it felt when I saw Cape Verde’s 2nd goal
Silver forest.
Fukushima, Japan.
““Let us free Ireland,” says the patriot who won’t touch Socialism. Let us all join together and crush the brutal Saxon. Let us all join together, says he, all classes and creeds. And, says the town worker, after we have crushed the Saxon and freed Ireland, what will we do? Oh, then you can go back to your slums, same as before. Whoop it up for liberty! And, says the agricultural workers, after we have freed Ireland, what then? Oh, then you can go scraping around for the landlord’s rent or the money-lenders’ interest same as before. Whoop it up for liberty! After Ireland is free, says the patriot who won’t touch socialism, we will protect all classes, and if you won’t pay your rent you will be evicted same as now. But the evicting party, under command of the sheriff, will wear green uniforms and the Harp without the Crown, and the warrant turning you out on the roadside will be stamped with the arms of the Irish Republic. Now, isn’t that worth fighting for? And when you cannot find employment, and, giving up the struggle of life in despair, enter the poorhouse, the band of the nearest regiment of the Irish army will escort you to the poorhouse door to the tune of St. Patrick’s Day. Oh! It will be nice to live in those days! “With the Green Flag floating o’er us” and an ever-increasing army of unemployed workers walking about under the Green Flag, wishing they had something to eat. Same as now! Whoop it up for liberty!”
— James Connolly, Let Us Free Ireland! (1899)
“If you remove the English army to-morrow and hoist the green flag over Dublin Castle, unless you set about the organisation of the Socialist Republic your efforts would be in vain. England would still rule you. She would rule you through her capitalists, through her landlords, through her financiers, through the whole array of commercial and individualist institutions she has planted in this country and watered with the tears of our mothers and the blood of our martyrs.”
— James Connolly, Socialism and Nationalism (1897)
fantasy stories love to begin with the world's most razeable peaceful little farming village having a big grand festival
It's the best time to raze a village because there's usually people from nearby villages visiting for the festivities so you get to kill more people this way
hurting ur friend with a really sad headcanon like