#exhilerating
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just made trace amounts of chlorine gas in my friend's garage.
i promise this wasn't intentional.
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Test drove a KIA stinger the other day. Holy shit that thing pulls. . .. ... #carporn #drive #speed #driving #testdrive #kiastinger #stinger #kia #cool #fast #fun #exhilerating (at Calgary, Alberta) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ced2PNOLwCI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Brennan pulling out Real Test Papers and a Real Two Minute Timer is one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen on this show
#omg are the questions designed for each player?!?!#Riz gets a word jumble and Fabian is getting some sort of alive desk enemy??#I’m live-blogging this rn at this point#FABIAN GOT ONE MINUTE#THIS IS EXHILERATING#FUCK I LOVE THIS SHOW#dimension 20#fantasy high#fantasy high junior year#fhjy#fhjy episode 14#fhjy spoilers#fantasy high spoilers
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Northern Lights
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I heard a voice that cried, “Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!”
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Who knows what to call the lonely exhilaration of gazing out into a bright Northern sky? Who can name it?
Jill could.
It was the same feeling that came to her at the teetering edge of a cliff at the end of the world. The same feeling as when she said her goodbyes to Puddleglum and Scrubb before they freed the prince. It was the same feeling that engulfed her now, sitting in the professor’s library with a volume of poetry before her.
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The wild northern wastes were well named: utterly wild, perfectly desolate, and terribly Northern.
It was lonely there and often cold, but the sky was an endless whorl of gales and gray clouds. The stones were indigo under the pale winter sunlight, and at sunset they glowed a soft gold, as though lit from within. The gorges and moors lay before her, and Jill loved them for their vastness and their distance. Little grew in that country, but that which did was full of vigor. The grass was short and coarse. Every tree was victorious.
On a still, deep breathing winter night, Jill lay on her back beneath a covering sky. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it until her tears began to blind her. Yet even then, she still couldn’t look away.
She felt bigger here in the wastes, like the landscape. Stronger, wider. The further she walked, the more she felt herself stretch out. One of these days, maybe, she would catch hold of herself at the edge and tug, and Jill Pole would open up clear as the Northern sky.
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And through the misty air passed the mournful cry of sunward sailing cranes.
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The thing that surprised Jill most about the battle with the serpent was this: there wasn’t any yelling. Always, it seemed, whenever she read stories about people fighting with swords, the combatants would let loose some guttural yell before their blows fell. They would scream and writhe in pain as they died. They would shout instructions to their fellows, “Look out!” or “Hit him there!” But the whole affair with the serpent passed with very little noise.
The poison-green coil constricted around the prince; he raised his arms and got clear, struck the serpent hard, and then Scrubb and Puddleglum dispatched the creature with heavy, hacking blows. The monster died writhing, but not screaming. And then it was over.
The thing that surprised Jill most about the moments before battle was, of course, the noise. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She couldn’t stop listening to her own breathing. Every footstep rang out like a gong, and any words exchanged rang with a kind of finality that made them sound louder than anything.
“You are of high courage,” Rilian told her when it was over.
Yet the thing in Jill’s chest just then didn’t feel like courage. It was a deep breath, a plunge, and a release. It was loud and quiet all at once, till she was standing, blinking in the night air as snowballs whizzed round her, and maybe that was something like courage after all.
.
And now, there was a stirring in her chest as she reread the words on the page. Sing no more / O ye bards of the North / Of Vikings and of Jarls! / Of the days of the Eld / preserve the freedom only / nor the deeds of blood!
She thought of grief. Of freedom.
The lonely ache in her belly grew stronger. She felt herself uplifted into the huge regions of sky that were just beyond those cliffs, weightless as the breath beneath her buoyed her up, further, further…
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When she saw Caspian up close, Jill thought that he looked like the sort of person who was meant to live in a castle. A silly thought, perhaps, since she knew he was a king– only she wasn’t thinking of Cair Paravel. No, Jill was picturing the ruins of an old British castle she’d visited once on holiday. She still remembered how the stonework had loomed over her, all towering arches and crumbling walls. That was where Caspian seemed to belong. He had an air of ancient tragedy about him.
When Rilian disappeared, all things had wept but one. The serpent coiled beneath the earth and flicked its forked tongue, spewing poison.
Now, the king half rose to bless his son. He whispered a few words as he caressed Rilian’s cheek, words meant only for those beloved ears. Jill saw Caspian’s lips move and wondered what a man like that could possibly say, when time ran so short.
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They laid him in his ship, with horse and harness, as on a funeral pyre. Odin placed a ring upon his finger, and whispered in his ear.
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Jill furtively took Myths of the Northmen and held it up to the professor with a question in her eyes. She was still shy around him and Miss Plummer, though she wished she wasn’t.
“Would you like to take that with you?”
“...Please.”
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It takes a certain kind of person to be exhilarated by the heights. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling.
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They walked to the train station with an autumn wind blowing hard, and though Jill couldn’t fathom why, she turned and saw Lucy grinning, fierce and joyful– grinning and reaching a hand out towards her friend.
Jill reached back and grabbed it. “What will you do, once we’re back in Narnia?” she asked.
The wind blew harder. The feeling of anticipation grew and grew, until it felt so big that she couldn’t dream of containing it. And there was Lucy, holding Jill’s hand and laughing like it was easy.
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Preserve the freedom only, not the deeds of blood!
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The second time Jill went to Narnia, she found herself not at its edge, but at its end.
The thing about the Norse apocalypse is: it feels believable. It doesn’t reach beyond earth’s horizon to pull down hope beyond hope. It’s only the kind of courage that hopeless humans have: you are going to die, so you might as well die bravely.
They found the last king of Narnia bound to a tree. His eyes were faintly red from crying, and his wrists and ankles red from the coarseness of his fetters.
In the Norse myths, Loki broke free of his fetters at the end of the world. He escaped to the helm of a ship made from the fingernails of the dead.
The last king of Narnia fell forward onto the ground when Eustace cut his bonds. Jill crouched down beside him and watched as he rubbed feeling back into his legs. He wasn’t so much older than her, she thought. Jill was sixteen years old; the last king of Narnia could not be older than twenty-two.
In the myths, the gods were ancient, hewn from the bodies of giants old as the earth.
Jill put out a hand and helped the last king of Narnia to his feet. Not for the last time, she shivered. Something deep inside her (deeper than her chest, than her heart, than the marrow of her bones, deep as her soul, deeper) was singing an elegy and she didn’t know why, or how, or where it had come from. The king clutching her hand, who could have been her older brother, would have no heir.
Yet when he asked, “Will you come with me?” Jill could only smile.
“Of course,” she said. “It’s you we’ve come to help.”
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And the voice forever cried, "Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!"
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“This really is Narnia at last,” murmured Jill. The springtime wood had little in common with the wintry lands she had traveled the last time she was here– but it awakened the same feelings of Northernness in her chest.
Their party may as well have been the only people in the world, for how isolated their little wooden path seemed. Yet it wasn’t lonely, really, cocooned in all that green with the wind in the leaves and the primroses nodding and blue of the sky peeking through above.
Jewel told stories about what ordinary life was like when there was peace here. As he spoke, Jill could almost hear the trees' voices speaking out of the living past, whispering, stay, stay. She was caught up to a great height, looking down across a rich, lovely plain full of woods and waters and cornfields, which spread away and away till it got thin and misty from distance.
“Oh Jewel–” Jill said with a dreamy sigh, “wouldn’t it be lovely if Narnia just went on and on– like what you say it has been?”
She needn’t be a queen, as Susan and Lucy had been, but Jill would’ve liked to stay. She would've liked it all to stay, if it could. She might have been a woodmaid in a place like this: with the turn of the seasons, the swaying trees, swords into plowshares. Oh, if only she could stay!
Ahead, the last king of Narnia was softly singing a marching song. Jill tilted her head back and let warm shafts of sun caress her face.
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I saw the pallid corpse of the dead sun borne through the Northern sky.
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“So,” said the last king of Narnia, “Narnia is no more.”
He tried to send them back. Jill shook her head. It was very loud and very quiet. “No, no, no, we won’t. I don’t care what you say. We’re going to stick by you whatever happens, aren’t we Eustace?”
They couldn’t go back anyway. Neither would they flee, not south across the mountains nor North into the great wide wastes. No, they would stay. They slept in a holly grove on the edge of ruin, waiting for the bonfires to light.
Jill slept fitfully, but in between she dreamed. She was high up in the air, buffeted by clouds and pierced by shafts of silver sunlight.
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They all died, in the myths. Jill knew that. It seemed beautiful and brave when she read it in her book, tucked away safe in the Professor’s library. It was terrifying now– and yet it was beautiful and brave still.
The dogs came bounding up, every one of them, running up to the king and his men with their tails wagging. One of them leapt at Jill and licked her face, tongue roughly lapping up the sweat and tears that had dried on her cheeks.
“Show us how to help, show us how, how, how!” the dogs were barking, almost ebullient in their enthusiasm. Jill bit back a sob. How lovely, she thought. How terribly beautiful. How dreadfully brave.
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So perish the old Gods!
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The white rock gleamed like a moon in the darkness when Jill finally reached it. She ran back to it alone, her hands shaking, while her friends stayed forward with their gleaming swords and Jewel’s indigo horn.
The while rock gleamed like the moon. Jill’s first shot flew wide and landed in the soft grass. But she had another arrow on her string the next instant. It was speed that mattered, not aim. Speed, and turning aside when she cried, so as not to drip tears on her bowstring.
The white rock gleamed. In the myths, a wolf devoured the moon. Peter’s wolf, slain many thousand years ago in this world, opened his jaw wide and darkness fell over everything.
Her next arrow found its mark. After that, she lost track. She pulled, and she prayed that her hands kept still another minute.
The unique thing–maybe the appealing thing–about the Norse myths, was that they told men to serve gods who were admittedly fighting with their backs to the wall and would certainly be defeated in the end. Jill let loose another arrow, felt the white rock at her back, and she knew that the clawing fear–beauty–bravery deep in her gut was the same feeling that she felt on the heights. The same feeling, but a different face. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling.
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“I feel in my bones,” said Poggin, “that we shall all, one by one, pass through that dark door before morning. I can think of a hundred deaths that I would rather have died.”
“It is indeed a grim door,” said Tirian. “It is more like a mouth.”
“Oh, can’t we do anything to stop it,” said Jill. Better to be dashed to the ground than it was to be devoured.
“Nay, fair friend,” said Jewel. “It may be for us the door to Aslan’s country and we sup at his table tonight.”
A hand tangled itself in her hair and started to pull. Jill braced herself hard, for a moment, until her strength gave out. She was standing on the edge of a high, Northern cliff. She took another step, and fell.
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Perhaps when the moment comes, our bite will prove better than our howls. If not, we shall have to confess that two millennia of Christianity have not yet brought us to the level of the Stoics and Vikings. For the worst (according to the flesh) that a Christian need face is to die in Christ and rise in Christ; some were content to die, and not to rise, with Father Odin.
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The world inside the stable was beautiful. It made Jill’s chest ache in all the loveliest ways.
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Build it again, O ye bards, fairer than before!
#okayyyy so#i've been down the tolkien/lewis/norse mythology rabbit hole lately#it's a lot#but i've been picking at this piece in my head for a while now#which is more a rhapsody than anything else#but another for my narnia/classic lit sequence of pieces#the quotes are mostly pulled from Longfellow's Tegners Drapa translation#which Jack discusses in Surprised by Joy as one of the works that inspired feelings of joy and 'Northernness' in his boyhood#there's also a Weight of Glory quote in there#(paraphrased)#and one from the intro to Joy Gresham's book on the 10 Commandments that Jack wrote#(that's that last passage in italics)#i'm not really sure i was trying to make a point with this so much as just. explore that feeling of northernness#bc really northernness is two things#it's joy and exhileration brought on by beauty#and it's that beautiful hopeless courage when faced with unwinnable battles#and i love how intertwined those two things are for lewis#and let's be honest for me too#so that's what this is#hope it holds together okay#narnia#chapter one#night under narnia#dying of thirst#pontifications and creations#leah stories
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pain goal: i want to train myself to be able to put out cigarettes/joints on my thighs. would love to serve as an ashtray when a dom is feeling cruel
#or all the time#tried it today but only rly put out one ember and it took 3 tries#but even that was exhilerating#here's a fun fact for those w/ darker minds#tw self harm in next tags#burning myself was how i used to sh in high school#so i'm having a fun bundle of feelings abt bringing it back into my life this way#signal broadcast#ftm ns/fw#ftm nsft#t4t nsft#trans nsft#nsft ftm#ftm sub#pain play#bd/sm masochist#masochist sub#masochist#masochism#hornyposting#bottomposting
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quick question about elio and arche cuz I kinda wanna know: what's keepin their limbs attached to the rest of em? Is it magnetism? How strong?
...
(If I put a really strong magnet next to their hands can I pull their hands towards that magnet or is their pull just too strong?)
Also how does Arche put his boots on if his feet aren't attached to his legs..? And does Elio get around everywhere barefoot? Dude, you're gonna get something stuck in your casing, be careful!
(Do they have casing for things to get stuck in...???? I feel like I'm askin the wrong questions here)
Hope your day's goin good so far!
Its going amazing, people are interested in my ocs!!! <3<3<3
oughghgh no wrong questions im losing my mind being asked anything about them at all!!!
Its attached with incredibly strong magnets, even if you tried to pull their limbs away while they were charging or unaware, youd just end up yanking all of them with it!
Its meant to allow them to move more fluidly than the other robots in Atomata can, since they were designed with the express purpose of being more human than the other robots in order to ease the transition for the human that would marry them eventually
Arche's feet are very attached with the magnets, so hed be able to put his boots on no problem!
Elio avoids wearing shoes as much as possible because while he and Arche have pad sensors on the bottom of their feet, Elio likes feeling the ground- It makes him feel human to feel as much as he possibly can all the time. Much like Damia doesnt like layers, Elio hates shoes.(much to the chagrin of both his brother and his parents. It was a fight when he was younger to even get him to wear pants)
(their casing is sealed behind the magnets so no risk of things getting stuck inside, however it does mean he has to clean off his "ankles" (the magnetic structure holding his feet on) before he goes to bed or he'll be dragging a bunch of rocks that stuck to it into the sheets hsfgh
Side note:
If you catch them while theyre turned off completely, they sort of fall apart like a house of cards once they turn off, without the magnets to hold them together. So theyre always very careful to be in bed or somewhere laying down, so their parts dont go scattering everywhere
Elio fell off a high ledge once when he was younger & on low power because hed been avoiding charging to play more, & Damia thought he died because all of his pieces scattered
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#1 for the Choose Violence Ask Game, please! (Star Wars)
Oho, going straight for the throat, I like it. <3
1 The character everyone gets wrong
Hm, would it be cheating to say all the clones? Because I honestly don't think there's much basis for the whole "one big family" thing fanon has going on in TCW.
Like, they're first and foremost a military, with the ranks and discipline and all that at the forefront of their social structures. At least that's what it looked like to me when I watched the show. They work together - some of them are really close, others are aquaintances or annoying colleagues. Some of them are in the position to make decisions that may send thousands to their deaths.
And I think that's way more interesting than going for a 'traditional' family structure.
Obligatory disclaimer: Enjoy fandom the way you want to. Me expressing a preference is not a condemnation of alternative opinions.
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by Dion J. Pierre
A professor at Cornell University who received major backlash for saying Hamas’ massacre of Israeli civilians on Oct. 7 “exhilarated” him has taken a leave of absence for the remainder of the semester, according to a new report.
Professor Russell Rickford called the Hamas terror group’s invasion of Israel from neighboring Gaza “exhilarating” and “energizing” at a pro-Palestinian rally last Sunday. He later defended his comments by arguing “the fundamentalism of Hamas mirrors that of Israeli leadership.”
Rickford later apologized for his statements, insisting that he “intended to stress grassroots African American, Jewish, and Palestinian traditions of resistance to oppression.” He apologized to “my family, my students, my colleagues, and many others,” but not to the Jewish community or Israelis — who were the chief targets of Hamas’ terror onslaught.
According to the Cornell Review, a campus newspaper, students taking Rickford’s course on post-Civil War African-American history received on Friday a note from his substitute saying, “Professor Rickford will be taking a leave of absence and I will assume teaching responsibilities for the remainder of the semester.”
The university confirmed to the student newspaper that Rickford “has requested and received approval to take a leave of absence from the university.”
Rickford’s comments, which went viral and became national news, were widely condemned across Cornell’s campus. Last week, Cornell University President Martha Pollack and Board of Trustees chair Kraig Kayser said in a joint statement that his remarks were “reprehensible,” showing “no regard whatsoever for humanity.”
The statement continued: “Any members of our community who have made such statements do not speak for Cornell; in fact, they speak in direct opposition to all we stand for at Cornell.”
Nearly 12,000 people as of this writing have signed a petition calling for Rickford to be fired from the university, whose student population is estimated to be between 20 and 25 percent Jewish.
For nearly twenty years, Rickford’s scholarship has largely focused on Black Nationalist movements, some of which have promoted antisemitic tropes. In the early 2000s, Rickford joined the “Malcolm X Project,” assisting author Manning Marable, who published his own comprehensive work on the controversial figure, in arranging interviews with Malcolm’s acquaintances. Rickford also published a biography of Betty Shabbaz, the late wife of Malcolm X before his assassination in 1965.
Malcolm’s autobiography mentions the Jewish people dozens of times, often pejoratively. “The Jew is hypersensitive” and “I worked downtown for a Jew” are among the ways in which he referred to the Jewish community. “I gave the Jew credit for being among all other whites the most active, and the most vocal financier, ‘leader’ and ‘liberal’ in the Negro civil rights movement,” he wrote. “But … I knew that the Jew played these roles for a very careful strategic reason.” Malcolm also referred to “the Jew” as “Hymie” and “these devils.”
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makes me so sad how much fucking product placement is in the new mean girls movie. the entire essence of girlhood is shitting on anything and everything all the time whether u like it or not.
#my cousin n i would literally go to claires and say god thats so ugly to things OUT LOUD n point at them n then buy smthn from claires. it#was exhilerating
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The wildest part about people dumping all their information about themselves in their bios is that they are giving up the one chance to be mysterious. I LOVE dropping lore about me at random that my followers have to piece together. It’s the one time I get to pretend I’m cool and enigmatic. Why would I give that up to tell a stranger how to trigger me. We are not the same.
#me#real life tbh#me: is this how it feels to be a dad. just dropping info and not explaining.#me: this is FUCKING EXHILERATING.
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its been way too long since i was in a gay rp where i had no idea what wasgonna happen
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hey
heyheyheyheyheyheyhey
go ride a dragon and descend into the depths with them right now
you can thank me later
#totk spoilers#totk#dinraal#naydra#farosh#idk about naydra or farosh actually but dinraal’s hair-spikes make for the perfect perch#you sit behind them and when she descends you slide into their back instead of off her head#it’s majestic it is everything#i am exhilerated rn#i’m going to try to do a full lap#mostly to farm but also bc i’m trying not to shrine-hop too much and i left my horse in goron city
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going to eat some icecream and rewatch the handmaiden methinks
#eat ice cream brush teeth wash face wash feet then watch handmaiden but still in spirit i am snacking while watching.#but i dont eat in bed so#ive gotten three games of gigantic in between a dozen requeues but its still fun like. when its working its like my fave game its so fuckin#fun exhilerating but alas.
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HOLY SHIT WE'RE GETTIN INTO IT NOW OH GOD
mina SAW his figure and eyes and pale face LIKE DIRECTLY!! thats the first time we've seen him in a while now!! and OH GOD LUCY :( i was sooo anxious during that scene just hoping mina would make it in time. but of course she could not ;-; . so she feels better now means she is absolutely a vampire now right??? :(((( she deserves better, mina was SO concerned she loves and adores her friend so much and this is NOT gonna end well, especially when mina and jonathan meet back up i feel, if she has not discovered lucy's true nature by then...
#:(( exhilerating/sad chapter today folks...#talks#dracula#dracula daily#dracula daily spoilers#<- are we tagging spoilers? this is a bit of a dramatic moment i would not deny anyone the throat scratching gasp that i had
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still thinking about taking the train and the bus to the MCR concert, dressed in all our finest, patch jacket and punk jacket and boots and best jeans, taking pictures outside the Forum with the red arches and the quotes on the pillars, being there for both the openers, hearing all those songs from Bullets live and understanding them in a whole new way, screaming along from the cheap seats, clip-on earrings and smudging eyeliner, the sound of the audience singing Helena, the lighters and flashlights turning the audience to a galaxy, voice hoarse, Gerard Way in a cheerleading uniform with a flamethrower, the Black Parade, then the crush of bodies as we all left, walking over to the bus stop with all the goths lurking around the graveyard sign to see that the traffic leaving had delayed the bus, waiting and giving up and walking over in surrender to hail a ride and seeing the bus finally pull along the block, sprinting back in heavy boots at full speed, catching it by the skin of our teeth, reaching the transfer after the last connection, sitting in delirious half-sleep on the bench and waiting for a ride, coming back home at 2 AM bone-tired and thirsty and sweaty and hoarse and happy as ever
#mcr#mcrla1#i want that feeling all over again#for some reason the buses and trains stand out in my mind#like . the goths all waiting around the cemetery sign because the stop for the forum was at the cemetary across the street#the whole concert was exhilerating#the transit of holding hands (goth) (gay) on the bus (head on shoulder) (exhausted) (exhilerated)#just added a little more#my chemical romance
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Right at this moment, I’m feeling peaceful. I feel calm. At ease. However long it lasts, for this moment, I’m content
#shauq from qala is playing in the background#there's a glass of water nearby#i'm not feeling super guilty or stressed or sad or exhilerated#it's just#calm#wanted to share this to spread a little calm#stressed desi high schooler content#academia#peace
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