#it's half a compliment right

[goldensunset]

you know how in school they’d always make you (still make you) like choose random topics to give class presentations on while everyone politely clapped even though they didn’t really care about your powerpoint on fungi or whatever bc they’re too worried about getting their own over with. tumblr is like if every single person in the room was paying full attention and was absolutely stoked about it and gave you wild applause and wolf whistles at the end. you can just get on stage and talk about coelacanths and you become a celebrity for a few minutes. like on tumblr it’s on your own terms so it’s like oh snap education is actually supposed to be fun

[raycatz]

I'm not including a situation where someone might be injured because in that case I'm thinking the bed goes to them by default or they are nominated for it. anyone who wants to be chatty goes to join the living room floor gang.

What are your thoughts and headcanons? Do you have thoughts on how the boys tend to approach assigning beds in inns? Who do the chain choose to sleep near when camping and why? What are their dynamics like when settling down for the night and getting ready for the day?

In "Mirror Vs Open Closet Door: Fight!" by Gintrinsic (here) Four refers to the chain's decision on how to split up between inn rooms as the "Link-per-room ratio" which I find very funny. He, Sky, and Time also talk about their thought process behind why they do or don't want to sleep in a room with some of the others which I find fun and interesting.

So! If you have thoughts and want to share them! *gestures to the post!*

[thegreatyin]

and i arbitrarily decided the scoundrel is cool

oh that is the one thing you should NOT do. do NOT tell them that. you have NO idea how awful their ego can get

[charonte-simi]

The absolute terror of hitting on a friend via text, not getting a response, and then worrying if you took it too far and made them uncomfortable...

[katy-books]

My first conversation of the morning -

Mum - I've got bad news.

Me - Is the world over?

Mum - Yeah, pretty much.

Me - We're all going to die.

I wasn't kidding. You guys could have made history with the first female president (who has a long political career and knows how things work - like her of hate her you can't deny she'd be competent) - instead you go for a guy who loves Putin and once blackmailed Zelensky in order to try and gain an advantage over a political opponent - REALLY!? What the fuck America!? (Obviously that doesn't count for everyone who voted Harris)

I'm going to start considering becoming a prepper and anyone who voted Trump can go fuck themselves 😡

*edit*

Could have sworn I posted this around 10am but it's fine to out now - I'm no longer yelling but my sentiments are exactly the same - I've felt a little dizzy all day - this is honestly terrifying

For the record - I don't care if you don't like Harris - neither do I - it's not about whether you like her - it's about how she's not very likely to cause WW3 compared to the guy who thinks bombs are cool (like a fucking 6 year old)

[todayisafridaynight]

This might not be anything, but while writing about your fics, the way you have the characters' mannerisms down PERFECTLY got me thinking about mirroring...

There's a lot of it in 7 (Horii is a directorial genius etc etc), most of it more intentional than these probably are, but there's something so interesting about mirroring that takes the tone of a (relatively) fond memory, a familiar gesture, and inverts it in the way shown here.

OH I'M GLAD YOU'VE NOTICED THESE TOO I think I mentioned it months back (or I drafted a post 'bout it but didn't think it was anything noteworthy) but I always really did like how the Arakawa Family mimicked each other's mannerisms (also circling back to how Jo and Masato calling Ichiban 'Ichi' presumably after picking it up from Arakawa)!

Aoki actually does the same sitting gesture too! I went back to double check and skim through the rest of the game's cutscenes, and as far as I could tell unless I skipped a scene, it really is only these three that do this specific pose:

It's such a small detail but I love it immensely and it really does highlight their connections with each other and it drives me insane

[elinaline]

.

[bigpeepee]

okay so i am once again in a bit of a pickle due to the fact that i never learn from my mistakes :)

[seventh-district]

this song ain’t got no right to be scratchin’ my brain as much as it does

[loregoddess]

Unicorn Overlord is hilarious actually, bc I'm so used to FE "this obviously not evil, typically conventionally attractive character will join you if you have the right character talk to them"

meanwhile UO is like "you beat this person up, they have a unique character model and a name, you have the choice to recruit them or kill them, but they will 100% no-questions-asked join you if you recruit them. Despite the fact that you just kicked their ass" like most of the recruits aren't even being mind-controlled, they're just like "yeah whatever, I guess I'll work for you"

this also means that I have allowed known murderer-thieves from the local thief gang to go free, with very lawful-good characters sitting there like, "Alain, milord, what the fresh FUCK are you thinking" while I'm here like, "I dunno that guy looks like a drowned fish and he might not be lying about his bedridden sister" and "oh this other guy doesn't look like he was drawn to be a cartoonishly evil villain, and his story corroborates the story about the bedridden sister, so I'm letting him go too bc now I'm invested in these weird criminals and their maybe-not-a-lie sister". I sincerely hope I can recruit them later on.

like I just keep getting handed characters, but the combat system works so well for having a ridiculous number of characters that it makes sense, but it's so funny that I literally just kicked down the doors to this dude's city, beat him up, complimented his city's upkeep, and he joined me.

meanwhile Alain is sitting here fretting and worrying bc I'm taking too long to go rescue Scarlett, and I'm like don't worry buddy, I don't think there's penalties if we go complete these 5 side quests to get 5 new recruits before we head east, she'll be fine. Probably.

[hystixia]

first found your works on ao3 and oh my godd.. fell in love, proposed!! but apparently you've got a thing with jeff mason, so i'll have to leave you alone.

so happy i found your tumblr! i'd love to chat about our interpretations of jeff some time! no one listens to my rambles and shit lmao

hi ! im glad you liked my works i’ve crossposted on ao3 ! !

oh uhm im sorry . . dunno if that is a bad thing abt jeff mason but that’s how i’m taking it oh well.

[narutomaki]

people will tell me it doesn't matter what people think about me and then turn around and go home/online to the people that love and care about them unconditionally

[peachesofteal]

You’re at the bar with your friends when the 141 walks in. You don’t notice because your back is turned but when you spin around on the stool with a laugh, something catches your eye.

Someone’s cock outlined in a pair of jeans, shoved into the top of his right pant leg.

You can’t look away. Practically uninhibited, you stare, blinking. Too long, you look for too long, and when you realize, your face heats and you frantically look away-

Only to lock eyes with the man standing next to him.

You turn away, tucking your elbows in your sides, trying to shrink into nothing as you look down at your half empty beer in shame. A minute passes, and you breathe a little easier, foolishly hoping you’ve gotten away with your shameless behavior.

No.

The same guy leans against the bar a moment later, arms crossed, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ye like what ye see?”

“Uh.. um. I don’t… know what you mean.” His lips quirk to the side, jerking his head towards the hulking behemoth of a man you were staring at.

“It’s alright,” his fingers crawl across the bar top, and then skate up and down your forearm. “We dinnae mind.” We?

“We?”

“Me an’ Simon. We love to share.” Oh my god- is this… is this really happening right now? You take a better look at him. He’s stunning, playful mohawk complimented by eyes so bright they could pierce your heart. Your mind runs away, scenarios twisting into fantasies of things you’ve never experienced. Things you wouldn’t even know where to start with.

“I-“ There’s warmth at your back. Too hot, too firm, and the man next to you turns his head, heavy lust lidding his eyes.

“Was just tellin’ Bonnie we like to share.” The man behind you hums, and a palm slides to your hip. You rattle on the stool, confused and… damp between your legs.

“Oh yeah?” He traces the curve of your neck, tilting your chin upward. “What do you think sweetheart?” His lips brush against your ear. “Want to see it?”

[eversncenewyork]

& more!

[novasintheroom]

Ghost who, under ���orders” from his army therapist (and with Price’s encouragement), starts looking around for hobbies when he’s on leave.

Not sure what to do at first. Tries gaming but gets bored of it and the PS4 stays gathering dust in his flat. Plants don’t appeal to him because he won’t be around enough to take care of them. Thinks about knitting, but is a bit too embarrassed to walk into the local craft shop to start making doilies.

Finally goes to the library after seeing a flyer advertising a painting class and thinks, “Hell, why not.”

Shows up in his hoodie, black face mask, and black baseball cap. Gives most of the old ladies attending the painting session a good scare

Until he rolls up his sleeves to avoid getting paint on his good hoodie. Then those old ladies are ogling his forearms and the tattoos painting his skin.

Is very attentive to the hired artist leading the session. Hasn’t got an artistic bone in his body, but dammit, he’s going to report back to his therapist that he tried if it’s the last thing he does.

Two little old ladies, Mrs. Levine and Ruby, pluck up the courage to sit beside him and start chatting him up. Compliments his painting, talk about their grandkids, how one of Ruby’s grandsons is into heavy metal (assuming Ghost is as well). Ghost listens half-heartedly, just trying to get the brown right for the deer he’s putting on paper. They manage to weasel out his name:

“Simon,” he announces gruffly.

“Oh, what a good name,” Mrs. Levine says.

He goes to the next activity as well: polymer clay creations. His hands are big and meaty and he has to take more clay than is probably reasonable to make the little pig he’s got going.

Mrs. Levine and Ruby are there too and sit right next to him to chat with him again. They love his idea of a pig and make a cow and sheep to go with it. When the hired artist comes around to see how everyone’s doing, Mrs. Levine announces that the three of them “have a little farm going” and that “Simon’s the farmhand.”

He's glad he's got his face mask on. He can feel his ears going red at the look the artist gives him.

Again, he’s very attentive to the hired artist, watching her hands carve into the soft clay with her nails to get texture on her dinosaur. He tries to do the same, giving whispy little hairs to his pig. It’s not pretty, but he feels a smidge better about going when it’s all done.

Mrs. Levine and Ruby get more information out of him as time goes on and he attends more activities. Soon their friends join in on the conversation, and Ghost – Simon – is well-known at the library for being the military guy who attends every Saturday when he’s not deployed. The little old ladies love him, even if he “doesn’t say much.” He’s helped them carry their bags of books and crafts to their cars, listens to them prattle on about activities and their aches and pains, and even scared off some hooligans who were trying to disrupt their library activity.

(They’ve all got little old lady crushes on this big man who takes time out of his day to better himself, and they love his dry/dad jokey humor)

(And he won't admit it, but these are his little old ladies now. Clarice brought him brownies that he absolutely devoured when he got back to his flat they were so good, and he can't help but laugh at how often they try to set him up with their granddaughters. And how they "trip" often just to hang on to his big arms. Birds are birds, no matter their age.)

[foldingfittedsheets]

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.