No memes but can we just have a /his feel thread

No memes but can we just have a /his feel thread

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youtube.com/watch?v=6TaxcXfSwdE
m.youtube.com/watch?v=yaS3vaNUYgs
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/r/ing that one about Jews burying Soviets in ww2

Why would this be sad?

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Because you can only kill them once

I hope god created hell just for the 15th century Venetians

DAmn

>two normal Roman dudes, not Emperors or generals
>dead for more than 2000 years
>the tale of their friendship still lives on thanks to a volcanic eruption
This makes me happy. I hope they died old and smiling after a life spent gallivanting through the Empire, figthing Germans and having fistfights in taverns.

fuck me that's intense

Best WW1 poem coming through
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

youtube.com/watch?v=6TaxcXfSwdE

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Did that in English literature FUCKING SHIT M8, language is generic not emotive. Now the one about the veteran coming home and being a limbless body who is only visisted by a cultist is good

The history of the Knights of Malta defending other soldiers with their only bodies from ottoman attacks is amazing. Shame i dont have the text right now.

Sounds like 1204 desu

Man, imagine living with memories like that the rest of your life.

This picture hits me every time
>travelling knight/poet/bard
>a wench on each arm
>he stares at you, through the page, across the gulf of time, as if challenging you to live as full a life as he

Kek

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Ceaser getting killed by his son feelsbadman.

I like this feel.

You know there was that one senator who was like "Hey guys, this is a really bad precedent to set. What if another Caesar/Pompey/Sulla/Marius comes along and does the same thing, only this time he fucks all of our replacements up? And we're the greatest republic in the world, what about-?"

"No. Shuttup."

And then that senator goes around worrying that his fellow senators will turn on him for speaking his mind, and then was probably killed in 43 because he sneezed on Marc Antony once or something.

That's the most overrated and shitty Wilson Owen out there. There are far better ones.

Dang. Really makes you think.

Is this what a /k/ poster looks like?

Nobody knows.

"Oh, if only this were for Ireland."

Dammit, user. Ireland was made for feels. Here's the letter that The O'Rahilly wrote to his wife after he was wounded during the rising, and everyone thought he was dead:

Written after I was shot - Darling Nancy, I was shot leading a rush up Moore Street took refuge in a doorway. While I was there I heard the men pointing out where I was & I made a bolt for the lane I am in now. I got more [than] one bullet I think.

Tons and tons of love dearie; to you & to the boys & to Nell & Anna. It was a good fight anyhow.

Please deliver this to Nannie O'Rahilly, 40 Herbert Park, Dublin.

Good bye, Darling.

This is a Rising thread now.

m.youtube.com/watch?v=yaS3vaNUYgs

Feels are for the weak

>be knight
>be deus vulting my way through Alsace
>three fucking wenches approach me
>shiggydigg muh vows of chastity
>try to keep cool
>wench in red's fingers turn into some tentacle phallangic nightmare
>wench in green walks over playing the fucking fiddle, incorrectly
>a fucking goose plops down on my head
>tfw even this helmet can;t hide my spaghetti

The Rising was focused, concentrated feels. Most Irish rebellions were.