I am literally in tears.  For all your haters from the way back, racist pieces of shit that hide behind anon or in your face haters who don’t even recognize your own biases. You salty, jealous assholes (ya know who you are) can all kiss my Richonne, ride or die ass.  We made it Richonne fam.  They are so beautiful.

(crying tears of joy, redemption, exhilaration. i’m just stupid overwhelmed right now. gimple i wanna bear your children right now)


has played an enormous role in my life for the last five, hugely developmental years. I lost a tremendous amount of weight, completely changed who I was. I transferred and subsequently graduated college, met the love of my life, in addition to countless other incredible people that I’ll never ever forget. I was exposed to and eventually fell hopelessly in love with the sport of Olympic Weightlifting, competed at a level higher than I’d ever imagined as a severely overweight, insecure kid, and even embarked on a career composed of equal parts mind-boggling stress and raw exhilaration. The one constant through all of it has been CrossFit, in varying levels of intensity.

It’s been five years and about a billion memories later, and tonight I signed up and completed my first CrossFit Open workout. It was awful. And I don’t regret it.

I’m at Heathrow, waiting to fly back to the US…it was such a magical, exhilarating, exhausting weekend! I can now say that I have spoken actual words to the cast of Hannibal, heard Hugh Dancy’s take on the possibility of Will playing the piano, fangirled over Columbo (of all things) with Aaron Abrams, and hugged Demore Barnes, Hugh Dancy, and Bryan Fuller. And I also got to meet lots of people!

@once-delight, @fragile-teacup, @wrathofthestag, @weconqueratdawn, @theseavoices, @pka42, @fannibaling, @akira-white-wolf, @bansheegrahamtao, and my friend and roomie @arciam who encouraged me to come in the first place. I think I also met @pantera615 And @zacharybosch, but my crap memory is giving me doubts, lol. If I forgot to tag anyone I met, please forgive me! I tried very hard to put Tumblr names with faces, but I probably didn’t entirely succeed.

Some of you I met all too briefly, but just know that if I gushed at you, I TOTALLY MEANT IT. Heart eyes at you all. This is such a lovely community and I loved getting to see you! Here’s hoping we’ll all be back next year.

I am exhilarated by the tremendous unimportance of my work. It is nonsense. My employers are nonsensical. The job therefore leaves me free. There’s nothing to it. In a way it’s like getting a piece of bread from a child in return for wiggling your ears. It is childish. I am the only one in this fifty-three-story building who knows how childish it is. Everybody else takes it seriously. Because this is a fifty-three-story building, they think it must be serious. ‘This is life!’ I say, this is pish, nonsense, nothing! The real world is the word of art and of thought. There is only one worth-while sort of work, that of the imagination.
—  Saul Bellow, Dangling Man


headcanon that derek nurse is one of those freaks that eat kit-kats and hershey bars and such by like, biting into them w/out breaking off the pieces

follow-up headcanon that whenever dex sees him do this he is absolutely disgusted & tells nursey this until one day when nursey turns to him with tears in his eyes and says, “chocolate is supposed to be a happy time, babe :’(”

I will never forget her eyes.

Those dark brown irises could warm the hearts of the saddest souls. They could lift the spirits of a person with a simple glance. Behind those orbs was a particularly seductive happiness. It drew in everyone around her, like a charm. Those eyes made me feel alive. They gave me hope and heartache. They were as enchanting as they were misleading. They made my life seem worth living, for a time. But I learned the hard way that those eyes, so full of life and love, quickly sucked all of the joy out of mine. As your eyes burned brighter, with the intensity of a red giant, mine became colder. As your eyes held an irresistible jubilance, mine held a sunken stare. As your eyes felt exhilarating to stare into, mine felt depressive and hopeless.

I will never forget her eyes,

But I have forgotten mine. Long gone are the days of happiness, with a twinkle in my iris and a smile on my face. The ecstasy of your eyes left me overdosed. And I have been trying to fix the withdrawal ever since.

anonymous asked:

can you write the first time daryl called jesus paul


Paul couldn’t help but laugh, a small thing, coming from him.  It was almost breathless as it fell out of his mouth. He was too tired to give anything more to it. 

Currently, he lay underneath Daryl  Dixon, who was struggling to hover over Paul as he rode out the last few seconds of his climax. Presumably, Daryl didn’t want to crush Paul and collapse. Paul’s legs were shaking with exhilaration, wrapped tightly around Daryl’s hips, and it was quite the effort for both of them to undo themselves from the other. 

Daryl turned over and lay on his back, not touching Paul. That was pretty routine. It was how these things went. Daryl would come into Paul’s trailer at night, capture his lips in a kiss, and everything that had happened during the day would fall away. Daryl was always on top.  Daryl never took his shirt off. Daryl barely spoke. They usually exchanged good-natured conversation afterward–they would talk about the days to come, or sometimes, if Paul really worked Daryl enough in bed, and the archer was feeling a little more at ease, Paul would get Daryl to talk about anything really. It came and went, their conversations, but Paul realized he could get a lot more out of Daryl in the day than at night after something so intimate. 

Paul didn’t really know what they were to each other. They spent nearly every day together, going on runs, taking watch, eating dinner with Rick and Michonne. When they were alone in the woods or in the car, Paul would test Daryl’s patience with him, but Daryl kept surprising him. Daryl allowed Paul to give him casual touches alone, a hand on a knee, a bump of shoulders, a hand ghosting over another. Once even, Paul had kissed him on the cheek. Daryl had called him an asshole, but it was said while he was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to hide a grin. 

Paul really, really liked him. 

This was the seventh time they had slept together, and he was not sure as to whether or not he should put a stop to this. He was falling, falling deep, and he was losing himself to this man. Every time they kissed, Paul felt pieces of himself come undone, and soon there would be nothing left of him. 

Paul breathed in, nerves fluttering in his chest. He was staring hard at his ceiling. “Daryl, I–”



Paul snapped his gaze over to Daryl, turning on his side so he could look at Daryl. Daryl wasn’t looking at him. One arm was on his chest, and his expression, from his profile at least, looking a little concerning. He was contemplative, like he had tasted the word in his mouth and wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

“You never called me Paul before.” he whispered. 

Daryl sighed softly. “Yeah. I know.” he closed his eyes, and Paul didn’t say a word. He was desperate for so much more, so, so much more, but this was a line he was scared to cross. It had always been Daryl and Jesus, Jesus and  Daryl, two comrades, two people who just worked well together. 

Daryl and Paul was something different. 

Daryl opened his eyes slowly, and now he was decisive. “I…I don’t like what this is,” his voice was struggling–Daryl was trying to change his tone from his normal growl to something softer. Meanwhile, Paul was trying to pre-mend his upcoming broken heart. This was not the start of a sentence that he wanted to hear. 

“Daryl, it’s fine, I can-”

“Ya know,” Daryl snapped, and then he shook his head. “For once would you just shut up?” but he struggled once more, trying to keep his tone light. Daryl seemed to resolve something and turned on his profile, Paul trying to steady his heartbeat. They were both lying on their sides now, blue eyes staring into blue eyes. 

Daryl moved closer, and their noses bumped. Paul couldn’t help but grin. Daryl tentatively, grabbed Paul’s’ hand in his, as though it was a new and foreign concept to him and raised it to his face, settling it there. Daryl’s eyes closed, the tension in his shoulders was gone, and he exhaled, like Paul’s touch was curing him. 

Paul’s heart broke. The moonlight came in from the windows and stretched across Daryl, highlighting his features. He looked so serene, so innocent, like he bore no scars and committed no sins. 

“I want…” Daryl paused to open his eyes. He kept his hand over Paul’s. “I want somethin’ different now, with you. Not just this.” 

Paul was shocked. He knew he looked it too, he couldn’t help himself. “You want to be boyfriends?” he blurted out, his voice coming out high and breaking the tension in the room. 

Daryl flicked Paul on the forehead for nearly yelling in his face. “Yeah, ya shithead.” he said adoringly, and Paul would not forget the way Daryl’s lips curled into a smile, or how he moved their hands down to his lips so he could kiss them. Paul wanted to cry. 

“I…” Paul smiled. “I would like that.” he moved closer, crushing their hands together and kissing each of Daryl’s cheeks. “Jesus, I would love that.”

You’re Jesus.” Daryl whispered, correcting him. 

“No.” Paul whispered back, closing his eyes and brushing his lips over Daryl’s. A happiness that he never thought he could have again filled him. “I’m Paul.”


B-Project acting all together! Exhilarating youthful musical movie! On 250 screens throughout the country, Spring 2017 Roadshow

Ascend the throne! Friendship? Or Power?


Houou Academy High School

Shishidou High School

Legendary Gangster - Nishiyama Takanori (Nishikawa Takanori)
JOKER - Kamimori Ryunosuke (Kamiki Ryunosuke)

Introduction Story

-8PM. Shibuya ward, Westside.

Houou Academy High School’s intelligent-type delinquent group, called “Seventh Heaven”, and Shishidou High School’s violent-type delinquent group, called “Route Seven” are always in conflict for Westside’s throne. These boys never stop arguing, but by no means, are they are harmful existence.

The reason is because they were born and raised in Shibuya, and love it more than anyone else. In this town, many of the young residents take spiteful actions, so they won’t show mercy on those who lack manners and morals. They’re the ones who even properly separate the garbage from ordering fast food.

In reality, these two powers have an extremely strong influence of power and it’s no exaggeration to say they preserve the town’s order.

Keep reading

FYC: Spock delights in Jim’s humanity. All that was within him that was forbidden, taboo, and frowned upon during his childhood on Vulcan– there it is– right on Jim’s face. Jim’s smallest smile flips Spock’s stomach. He’s thrilled! Exhilarated! If Jim brushes his hand against Spock’s– it is nearly overwhelming and gets the heart in his lower abdomen racing. Everything human in Spock sees itself in everything that Jim is. Spock allows himself to “perform” his Vulcan mannerisms less, and allows himself to be exactly the person that he is. No more, and no less…

x3lilihua  asked:

13 pls 💕

“The way I feel when I’m with you”

Keith’s not good with words.

He pulls Shiro along the empty corridor, out the exit and into the night air, toward his red hoverbike waiting in the dark. Shiro tries to ask where they’re going but Keith hands him a helmet instead, starts the engine, and waits. As soon as Shiro is behind him with his arms secure around Keith’s waist, they’re off the ground, a cloud of dust trailing behind them.

Keith rides out into the open desert, under the vast, starry sky. Shiro doesn’t see a path but it feels like Keith knows where to go. It’s exhilarating out here, the rumble of the engine beneath them, the rush of wind whipping around them, the scattering of rocks and sand rising up behind them. But it’s comforting too, the solid warmth of Keith in his arms, and the familiar smell of the desert night.

Keith shouts something Shiro can’t quite catch, but looks ahead of them just in time to see the sharp drop of a sheer cliff. Shiro doesn’t even have time to yell; they’re going too fast, Keith’s not stopping, only going faster, so Shiro holds on tight and puts his trust in Keith.

They fly off the edge at full speed, engine roaring, and for a single moment it’s just Keith and Shiro with nothing above them, nothing below, nothing at all to stop them; they’re untouchable.

Shiro feels like his heart is about to burst, feels the exact moment gravity pulls them back down, the way his stomach clenches and his toes curl as they hurdle back towards the ground. Keith slams the throttle, twists the clutch just right, and the hoverbike lands on the other side of the canyon in a plume of sand and dust.

“That was insane!” Shiro pulls off his helmet, laughing, and hands shaking from the adrenaline.

Keith turns around in his seat, tosses his helmet aside and kisses Shiro right there, with the stars bright above their heads and the dust still settling around them. Shiro kisses him right back, his hands slowly finding their way to Keith’s face, holding him softly until Keith pulls back enough to look him in the eyes.

“You asked me, the other day, how I felt about you.”

Shiro remembers, had been patient when Keith didn’t have an answer then.

“I didn’t know what to say,” Keith whispers, voice quiet. He takes Shiro’s hand, presses it against his heart so Shiro can feel his heartbeat, wild and fast. “But this is the way I feel when I’m with you.”

And Shiro thinks it feels unstoppable, like flying full speed through the air, but also knowing the ground is solid and safe when you land.

Keith’s not good with words, but Shiro understands him all the same.

“Me too.”