#most motivational speech

[fayethefae]

lock in. lock in. get it twisted. if you lock in you can do anything. motherfucker. get it twisted. your actions impact nothing. your fate is predetermined. the only thing that you can change is your reaction to it. you can do anything you set your mind to. the world is a playground designed for you and only you to achieve your highest level ambitions. if you wait 90 minutes to wake up 'till you drink your first cup of coffee nothing can stop you. if you duct tape your mouth when you fall asleep nothing can stop you. get it twisted. you are a pawn in a universe chess match. you mean nothing to god if they even exists. you are a rounding error. you are 2 pennies on a fortune 500 company's balance sheet they dont care about you in the slightest. get it twisted. everyone gets what they deserve in this life. if you put in effort you can achieve anything. successful people are better people. get it twisted. the circumstances surrounding your birth determine where you are going to go. nothing else matters at all. your own level of education. your attitude. your level of effort. your friends. your network. your business. your credentials. motherfucker.

[atthebell]

have tried to post these clips so many times tumblr PLEASE

anyway here's ramon & cellbit during that post-rescue boat race back in june, including cellbit's little speech he said to ramon and the gifts ramon gave him as thanks

[therefugeofbooks]

As someone neurodivergent with depressive episodes, it's so hard to talk to people about being sad. I know I should be grateful for the things I have. I know I should be grateful for the people around me. I know about all my privileges. And still, I can't stop being saaaaaaaad. I don't want to hurt anyone around me, but it's so hard for me to just LIVE. I'd rather not. I wish I could opt out.

[mishkakagehishka]

I just . Repeating "characters are tools" you end up erasing so much about arashi's character and motivations and interactions with other characters if you avoid using her pronouns aka avoid showing she's transgender. It's on the same level of frustration with the translators i had when i saw they had Mika speaking standard English, there's a LOT that gets lost if you don't show those little things.

[peridotermine]

Alright, I'm gonna try guessing who is the last yandere.

okay so obviously I'll rule out the princesses/character we know which is:

Jasmine, Alice, Rapunzel, Snowy, Aurora, Cinderella, Tiana, Belle, Ariel.

obviously, the last prince wouldn't be a child (unless Noor makes them adults for some reason) so Lilo and Ariel's daughter whom I will never remember the name of is out.

Now Noor said the last prince fits rarity really well so that rules out Merida, Pocahontas, The lady from Atlantis aka Kida, The lady from Tarazan aka Jane.

Now to the ladies that I don't think would logically fit the role of a yandere:

-Mulan grew up with a nice family as far as we could tell it was just the expectations that weighed her down it wouldn't make sense for her to be obsessed with someone else.

-Odette? I mean she was her papa's only girl and was most likely spoilt rotten by not only her dad but Derek's mom too, although the memories at the start aren't the fondest I think she can look at them and laugh at some point in the future. (I watched the movie for the first time for this and I nearly cried 10 minutes in, like 'You're all I ever wanted, you're beautiful!' 'what else?' 'what else?'💀💀)

Not to the ones that I think are likely to be the last yandere:

-Esmeralda...come on must I explain this lady? She fits the Rarity persona a little too well (at least from what I remember from Rarity, I don't have the energy to rewatch mlp, and the last time I did was like 4-5 years ago when I was in my creepypasta pinkie pie phase) the only thing is that in the movie Esmeralda didn't have enough for education but I'm like 80% sure the yan isn't gonna be in a book because after wonderland mc should be finished with the book madness so it wouldn't be set in a book....

-Tinkerbell..little red flag in Petter Pan other than that meh

-Now into my biggest suspect...Megara also known as meg...

wait 🧍🏻‍♀️ I just realized that Noor said the character was literally mentioned in the story itself so all this analysis is very much unnecessary 💀 I just got too excited thinking I was into something 🤡 alright then time to reread the story and try to figure shit out.

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Michonne you are such a breath of fresh air after sitting through ftwd. No "I helped because I have things to make up for" or "I helped because I need to honor my mom" or "I helped because I feel guilty for existing". Just "I helped because I was there."

[spurgie-cousin]

I don’t regularly watch videos of/from the Rods but I know the older girls have the signature “yeah”s and smiles while pitching their voices up. Olivia(?) sounds like she’s about to have a panic attack from having to talk to Jill, what the fuck did this woman do to her before filming??

I think it's less panic and more just strain from having to sit there and stare at the camera with a big smile for the entirety of the video. And having to come up with words on the spot when she's not used to speaking much on camera. Kind of like how when you're taking pictures with younger kids they can barely hold a smile for 30 seconds, but Olivia doesn't have the option to stop so she's just gotta keep forcing giggles to kind of help maintain her smile. And I'm guessing that's a Jill rule because all of her kids do that.

The way she speaks on camera reminds me a lot of some of Jill's older videos when she used to have her (now adult) kids speak a lot more, and they always sounded like Olivia in that last video, either strained or nervous. People would comment on that and their high pitches and weird accents a lot tbh, which Jill had no good explanation for, so that probably factors into why she doesn't really let them talk much anymore unless they are adults.

[gfanlocalcryptid]

Hello folks, I just wanted to say happy birthday to the Mystery Twins, and I want to wish an amazing, safe and healthy school year to everyone who is starting these days.

I'm not an optimist, but I'm honestly scared as shit, and I care about you. It's not gonna be easy, but we're gonna survive school together another year.

How am I so sure of that? Because in the last year I've see a great community, a funny, loving, sometimes a bit agitated, community.

I believe in you, is us. So let's do this.

[nikkisticki]

Tank glams on my Roe, Skalbryda

I'd argue that Femroe is the defacto best female race in armor due to what are normally the races biggest weaknesses (criminal lack of hips and ass that ruin most femme clothing thats already stretched to shit on their model and the chunky arms and legs), because they are just so fuckin biggg

@running-away-now's meow meow T'siqa

I fanta'd off of them after EW for a few reasons (big factor was wanting to wear femme clothes), but also it felt like the obvious end of a story to retire Skal and let her live at my house and go fishing, which I could sort of wave over and say that her daughter took over...but 6.1 and onward is the exact same narrative beats and elements as before with the same characters but now they aren't "the Scions", and Y'sayle is replaced

So at this point I do wanna go back to Skal as it doesn't really matter if the plots just "you and these characters you like are going to fantasy australia" and I miss the big armorrrr

Also this was an accident and awakened something in me

[shayarigateway]

Most Famous Socrates Quotes to Inspire You Motivational Quotes Success Quotes motivational speech

[fayethefae]

brb i need to memorise the northernlion get it twisted motivational speech

[humanmorph]

i wish i spoke portugese because that scanlation of fool night on mangadex is almost 20 chapters ahead

[travalerray]

fanfic writing is always like:

questionable characterisation (not really familiar yet) => oh this is actually good => questionable characterisation (projecting)

[xenosagaepisodeone]

that screenshot going around where that random person says james baldwin sounds like a pretentious blogger is driving me insane because like, imaging living in one of the most racist time periods in modern history, cultivating an eloquent and sophisticated manner of speech in part out of interest but also out of necessity to deflect racially motivated accusations of being uneducated (all while making irreplaceable contributions to literature and the humanities), only to still have deeply incurious white adults scoff at how seriously you seem to take yourself before defaulting to elevating (white) european literature like it's their factory setting decades later 🥴

[odinsblog]

This year’s Super Bowl was a weapon of mass distraction. If there’s any justice, future generations will remember the game not for Patrick Mahomes, Travis Kelce, or Taylor Swift but for the US-funded attacks on Palestinian civilians that occurred while so many Americans were glued to their TVs. During the game, watched by well over 100 million people in the United States, Israel launched a bombing raid of Rafah in the Gaza Strip, the most densely populated area on earth. More than 1 million people had fled now-leveled Gaza City to the refugee camps in Rafah and surrounding areas. Palestinians who have survived previous Israeli strikes are now staving off disease, destitution, and fear.

Meanwhile, CBS granted the Israeli government space for an ad about the 130 hostages left in Gaza. This ad, meant to build public support and justify the slaughter of nearly 30,000 civilians in Gaza, spurred 10,000 people to register complaints with the FCC, because the commercial did not disclose that a foreign government had paid for it. Coupled with the Rafah raid, this looks more like military synergy than happenstance. 

New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft also spent $7 million on an ad from his organization Foundation to Combat Anti-Semitism. It features Clarence Jones, a 93-year-old former speech writer for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Kraft and other pro-war billionaires use the memory of King so much, they should be paying his family indulgences for slandering his name. The ad failed to mention that Kraft has given $1 million to pro-war AIPAC and donated $1 million in 2016 to Donald Trump’s inauguration. Given that Kraft says that the Nazi march in Charlottesville was his motivation to start his foundation (Charlottesville was the one with “good people on both sides,” according to Trump), his hypocrisy is insidious.

Kraft and Israel want the same thing: a blank check to uproot Palestinians from Gaza and build settlements. One can also only imagine if a peace organization tried to buy an ad asking Israel and the United States the question: “How many dead children will be enough?” I suspect it would be denied faster than a public-service announcement about concussions.

(continue reading)

[running-with-kn1ves]

Fitness Trainer

A/N: I blended some french terms of endearment with English don't come for me. But is Antoine really French, or is he feigning this way to get closer to you? (Had a fem idea for this too)

Synopsis: Another day at the gym, your personalized trainer is helping you out a lot more intimately than he would with most clients.

TW: Creep gym trainer, yandere themes, mentions of future stalking/imagined groping, sensual content

And up... and down, just like that."

The squeeze on your hips kept you stable, even with your fingers shaking, mouth agape as hot breath was sucked in, and out. 

"One more, you can do one more for me."

"I can't..." you huffed, thighs quaking as the barbell on your shoulders made you ache. 

"Yes you can. C'mon sweetheart, we'll do it together."

He gripped the barbell beside where your sweating hands were, chest flush against your back as his feet entrapped the outside of your own. 

“Do it with me now,” He pulled the weight lower, forcing you to squat despite the agony in your ankles and tailbone. “Push through it, baby.”

The sweet name just slipped out, breathy against your ear as his hot exhales slowed compared to your huffs. It almost made you slip.

You could feel the muscles in your wrists shaking, vision going blurry as sweat drips into your eyes. One of his hands leaves the barbell to grip your hip, forcing you back into a standing position as your knees nearly give out. 

You rise slowly back up with the barbell in your hands, nearly groaning in pain at the strain. You finally lift your arms to your chest, finishing the rep with a strained frown as your personal trainer forces the weight off of your arms. His taller stature makes it easy to put the barbell back on the rack in front of you. 

You feel as if you could collapse, an hour and a half of intense training brought upon by your own determination leaving you exhausted and a little discouraged. You thought you could do more, push yourself harder-- but at the end of the day, the amount of reps your body would let you do, was it. You’d crack if you tried to go even further, end up tearing something or worse. 

Your trainer could tell; the way you sweat, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept that hard, strained look with each motion he made you do. 

“I hate to say it, but you’re done for today.” 

You look up at him from your place on the ground, water bottle hanging from your grip as you try to catch your breath. 

Antoine had only worked with you for a couple weeks now, what started as once a week now thrice, if you had the time after work of course. But somehow, he always enticed you to come back. 

His body, which should’ve been motivation, was more or less disheartening-- rippling muscles and bulging quads peeking beneath his tight ‘TRAINER’ black tee and athletic shorts as the perfect ensemble. 

He was so sweet, so encouraging and upsettingly positive. Always filling up your water bottle, saying how he’s always admiring the growth of muscle definition in your back, giving you light touches to show which area of your body that a machine might work out. He even offered post-exercise massages to make sure you didn’t get sore after each session, free of cost as a perk of joining the gym’s ‘premium membership’, an idea he sold you on. That, along with the complementary protein shakes made that were hi “specialty.”

You knew it was his job to hook you in, but who could say no to that sweet meathead’s face? Which is why you were here, on a late saturday afternoon, in this nearly empty gym with him that he convinced you to love. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if he was the one persuading you, offering to use his time off to come in and help train you.

“Feelin’ sore?” Antoine bends down next to you, offering a small towel from his pocket. The twinge of accent in his speech makes him sound funny, dry lips parted as he looks you over. “You went harder than usual today.” 

“Yeah,” You let out after a gulp of water. “Definitely gonna feel this later tonight; ha, maybe I’ll actually take you up on one of those massages.” 

You point with your water bottle, grinning tiredly as Antoine’s eyes seem to shine. He licks his lips to hide a giddy grin. 

“Of course-- definitely, I’d be more than happy to. These hands can work magic you wouldn’t believe.”

Antoine shuffles behind you, pulling at your shoulders to make you sit up straight. 

“Wha- you mean right now? I’m all, sticky.” 

“Now’s the best time, your muscles are just coming down from the effort they’ve exerted. Best to prevent any aches and pains as soon as possible rather than waiting.” 

He begins gentle rubs against the base of your neck; vast, warm fingers grace your collar with a softness you hadn’t expected. Usually when people try to massage your shoulders they’re too harsh, too grippy; but Antoine was rhythmic, pushing into your back with his palms as he made his way down to your shoulder blades. 

“But considering you’ve pushed so hard, I don’t want to see you back here for a couple of days.” Antoine insisted.

“Awe, you want me outa here that badly?” You joked, laying your head forward as Antoine’s fingers made their way to the back of your neck, running pressed thumbs down from your hairline. “I see how it is, prefer your other clients over me.” 

It felt sort of weird, having him massage you so deeply on the gym floor out in the open. But the only person here in the middle of the afternoon was an older woman, paying more attention to her cellphone on the treadmill than anything you two were doing. 

Antoine shook your shoulders. 

“Don’t say that, now!” He leaned his head over next to yours from behind, getting so close your nose almost brushed against his cheek. “It’s not funny; I hope you don’t see me that way.”

“It’s just a joke,” You titter, running your handtowel down the front of your shirt.

“I never understand your jokes.” He sighs, hands moving down to your tailbone. He lifts the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, digging his hands against the soft flesh. 

“Woah, hey,” You turn to look at him, but his head is down, looking at his fingers. 

“I have to get to your hips, you can’t do so many squats without release. And at the rate you were going to day… well, you see what I mean.”

The bottom of your tanktop covers his knuckles as he pulls and kneads the skin of your lower back. 

“O-okay.. I guess..” 

He’s not usually so insistent, but he seems so genuine about it-- and, he’s the trainer, shouldn’t they know best? 

He begins with little strokes to your skin, almost caressing. You grow anxious until his thumbs push deep lines into your flesh. 

“Does that feel a little better, Mon cœur? Less pain?” He asks up close, staring at your heated and perspiring cheeks. 

You’re awed by how good it actually feels, the tension melting away with each push of his knuckles into your skin, and grip of his hands around your waist as each of his thumbs digs into your sides. 

“Yeah… feels a lot better..” 

“You can rest your head on my shoulder, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, arching your back with your head against his shoulder. He had easier access into your back, working his hands up beneath your shirt to reach your mid abdomen.

The deeper Antoine kneaded, the farther he grew up your back, the more… audible, his groans became. Each dip was another breathy moan into your ear. It was fine at first, just the sounds of his work; and then, it became almost, uncomfortably sensual. 

“Just like that...” He mumbled, giving a deep hum.

With your neck so close, his nose dips against your jaw to sneak a sharp inhale of your scent. It was heightened from your hour of strenuous work, a smell he couldn’t get enough of. 

But you jumped forward before he could nuzzle as deep against you as he wished. 

“Uh! Thanks, I feel a lot better now. Really… got all the kinks out.” 

You clutch your towel, facing your trainer to prevent him from working his “magic fingers” again. 

“Of course. And that’s just a taste, a fully body massage would leave the workout you just completed to drain away, as if it was just a dream.” He wiggles his hands with a sheepish grin, one so simple and sincere your guard fell again.

Sure, guys at the gym could be creeps, but he was your trainer, eyes kind and a little foreignly clueless, who only wanted to see you thrive; he’d never try something with you, his client. 

“Yeah, maybe next time. But now, I need to shower and get this stink off of me.” You bring yourself to your feet, all wobbly and achy-galore. Even with Antoine’s work on your shoulders, you can feel your back beginning to seize up. It’s gonna be hard to bend down for a while. 

Offering a hand to Antoine still on the rubbery gym floor, he takes it with a slight ease. He doesn’t use the weight in his hand to get up, knowing he’d just drag you back down to the floor if he did. 

“Thanks again-- I mean, I know it’s your job but--” 

“Don’t thank me; it’s always a treat to have you here, my cherie. I’d train you for free, you know!” 

You laugh, flattered at the idea. If you were a bit more forward, you’d ask him for that little perk. Hey, paying for his service certainly wasn’t cheap!

Making your way to the bathroom, you thank your lucky stars the hard part’s over. Too bad you can’t look at Antoine’s pretty face anymore, though. 

Antoine on the other hand, follows your stumbling body with his eyes, watching as you disappear behind the water fountain and bathroom door. 

His eyes jut back and forth between the machines and front door for witnesses, seeing none before snatching up your forgotten towel. How’d you never notice they didn’t just give these things out? 

He’d brought the cute handkerchief from home, wanting to appear the most of a gentleman. And, in the hopes that you’d use it every and anywhere. 

Oh, he thrived off that scent, pushing the white damp cloth heavy against his nose. It smelled even more potent of you, moreso than the few inches away of sniffs he usually got. 

His tongue just barely brushed against it, writhing in ecstasy from how it still held the stickiness of your sweat. You didn’t know how intoxicating it was to him, watching each bead of sweat leave your neck, the dip of your back when he got the chance to help hold that barbell with you… it was almost maddening, how strictly he had to restrain himself from lapping at your hot skin and running his hands beneath your gymwear. 

 No, he had to save this for later. What would his manager think if he saw him acting so ferally? 

Besides, there were more important matters to attend to. Such as, taking out the bathroom trash, a simple excuse to slide his manager for the opportunity to watch you shower. 

Who knew working here would have such great advantages in getting close to you.