quick reminder

Hey quick reminder that:

Wolverine is 5'3
Genji Shimada is 5'5
Prince was 5'2
Lucio is 5'2
Bruno Mars is 5'5
Robin Williams was 5'6

Trans guys don’t always get the privilege of being conventionally tall but there’s plenty of both real and fictional men who weren’t towering giants either, and they’re still fantastic. Great things sometimes come in small packages, and you’re not any less manly for it.

Quick reminder, especially for you younger undergrads: Discipline is a skill, not a character trait. And just like any skill, it can be practiced and improved upon incrementally. Try not to get discouraged if you have a day, or multiple days, where you are less disciplined than you would like or need to be. Don’t quit. Don’t spend the next week binging Netflix because you think it’s a hopeless endeavour. Just get up the next day and try again. Each day you try is more practice, and each day you practice, you’ll get a little bit better, and that continual improvement will pay dividends in the long run.

Keep at it.

Empire’s End confirms that Armitage Hux is not some poor child who was raised to be cruel, but instead chose to be so on his own.

This becomes plain when he is given his first command of fellow children. He sits alone in a room with his peers and decides to test his authority. His first order is this: “I want you to hit the boy to the right of you. Hard.”

The boy obeys immediately, and Armitage “feels a strange and sinister buzz of excitement” as he watches the boy bleed.

He could have issued any command: “take off your shoes and give them to me”, “quack like a duck”, or even “shut your eyes”. He chooses none of these, and instead moves immediately to violence. His goal is to cause harm to others–and it is a goal that is not influenced by anyone else. It is his choice. The decision rewards him with excitement and a thrill, and thus the foundation for his character is born: a cruel, sadistic monster who revels in genocide and hurting the innocent. 

During his move to Washington, DC, Stiles made a number of realizations about life, the most prominent of which was that it was amazing what kind of hobbies a guy could pick up when his days weren’t packed full of running for his life from various supernatural horrors. Like trivia nights, for example. Stiles had a regular team and the entire bar groaned when they walked in because they knew they were about to get creamed.

Or the tabletop gaming club he joined, where everyone was just as competitive as he was, and punches had been thrown on more than one occasion.

Or like, Stiles jogged now.

Through the National Mall.

Like Captain America or some shit.

And with these hobbies came a sort of routine, and though most were on hold during the summer when his trivia team and gaming rivals were back home, the running stuck. It was calming and got his mind off things, gave him a chance to think about any papers he had to write, or de-stress about his FBI internship when it got a little hectic.

It was a good routine.

So every Saturday morning, Stiles got up a little earlier so he could get in his longer route, and left his dorm for his jog through the National Mall. On Saturdays, he took the path that went through the war memorials, down into West Potomac Park, and over to the Jefferson Memorial. It was his favorite place to take a breather because that early in the morning, there were rarely any tourists, and other joggers left him alone. It was nice and private, with a great view of the city across the water.

Stiles leaned back against the front steps and glanced around him casually, making sure there was no one too close before pulling out his little burner flip phone.

He had an old school drug dealer flip phone. His dad would be so proud.

There was only one number the phone ever called, so there was no need to save it under a name.

He waited for a few minutes, biding his time until the clock hit 7:15am, and then he called that number.

On the third ring, Derek picked up.

“Morning, sunshine!” Stiles greeted, already wide awake from his jog. Derek grunted back. He must’ve had a late night at the bar. “Any leads?”

Derek yawned loudly. “Still no werewolves with triskele tattoos, still wanted for murder.”

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➸ 07.20.2017 | Hello, everyone! Just another quick reminder that from today until July 25, I will be gone camping! ✨In the meantime, please check out my inbox games post to help celebrate 2.6k watchers in my absence! // 

there’s a lot of misconceptions about asexual people and quick reminder that we’re in a spectrum. some of us are sex-repulsed, some of us are sex-positive, some of us love orgasms but only solo, some of us only want a relationship that isn’t sexual, some of us are cool with getting our partners off but don’t necessarily need it for us, some of us would be down with sex

here’s a nice explanation on what is sex-positive, sex-neutral, and sex-repulsed in regards to being asexual

on top of it: asexual ≠ aromantic. someone who is asexual does not mean no romantic or sensual feelings! also it doesnt mean you can’t look at someone and find them aesthetically pleasing. what defines asexuality is not their labido either, but it’s “a lack of sexual attraction for someone”