#iwrite answers

[iwrite-sinsandtragedies]

I would guess part of the comment issues in ol1 are the lack of a jealousy system like nobody can react or make comments because there is no jealousy at all I am hoping it is more natural in ol2 with there being 2 main lis plus an actual jealousy system even if it is optional

There is a little bit of jealousy! But it's all mainly in Step 1 and your typical kiddy jealousy😂 it's also just me splitting hairs really, but I get where you're coming from lol. It's not actually jealousy I'm looking for, honestly. I personally despise jealousy in any aspect for my own reasons, though I do get what you mean and I'm depressingly aware of how prominent jealousy is in the situation I've given😔

What I'm more looking for is upset - and I mean that in the most clinical definition of the word: to make (someone) unhappy, disappointed, or worried; to knock (something) over. (ie. to disturbe or unbalance)

LMAO, this got long, so I'll throw it under a cut!

Basically, Sunset Bird is the place where nothing happens and everything stays the same, until Baxter comes in and upsets the norm. The game writes many times that he's disturbed the peace and many characters respond to that in various different ways - mostly positive and slightly negative on Cove's part specifically. You, as the MC, have the option to take it as positively or negatively as you choose, of course!

I have a suspicion that, if MC takes it negatively then maybe others would too but, I don't play that route personally and it isn't really the point I'm getting at either. I want to see that upset happen, even in a positive viewpoint MC. I want to see Cove upset because MC has been flirting with him for possibly several years and he has been flirting back and he and everyone understandably thought you both had something, only to see you fall for Baxter like a rock in a stream, the moment he turns your head. It's not specifically jealousy I'm looking for, it's hurt and confusion and/or a need for answers from the people that surround MC and find their expectations suddenly trampled on.

"What about us/Cove?" is a very real question that should be there yet just isn't 🤷

An example of where the game actually did do this: The protectiveness from your family, that was A+ on the game's part but there wasn't enough of it, in my opinion. There should have been more worried dialogue from at least your family, if not your friends. Cove also has one moment where he complains about how he doesn't like Baxter flirting with the both of you but, again, that's not actually touching on the subject of MC so much as it is the both of you. It's also before any dating can occure so Cove is still 'intact' as it were... So I would honestly even consider that situation void because it happened before the flag triggering can changed him.

Even in Step 4, this trend continues! [violently rips out hair] There are scenes that should have such a bigger reaction out of characters but simply just don't because the mechanic for upset is entirely lacking!! It drives me crazy yo😭there's no deep 'sit down' conversation at all in so many places and it makes the emotions that the really good parts of the story pull out of you feel so cheap in comparison!

Awaaahhhhh... This has just turned into me complaining lmaooo

My apologies😂I know there isn't anything to be done that can change it, currently, but it does just really upset me. In fact, how I'm talking about it here is exactly what I would have loved to see in the dialogue of the game!

The desperateness, the desire for answers, the deep meaningful conversations, just- [clenches fist] Yes. Everything would feel so much more grounded and real and immersive if they just let MC sit down and have a talk with these people about everything and have feelings get resolved and see bonds strengthen!!! It would be so Good!!!

Instead, I must sit here, depressed while Cove laughs off several years of character development like "ha ha okay then bro, very funny" like😭😭😭What happend to you, my sweat summer bean???

[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

“Hey, Rosie,” Barty grins, pulling out that teasing nickname he likes to call Evan from time-to-time which drives him crazy. “Can I give you a kiss?” He puckers his lips obnoxiously.

Somehow, Evan is charmed. “Yes,” he breathes. Barty leans forward — he doesn’t even have to get up as he’s sitting right next to Evan — and a second later their lips are pressed together.

Oh, fuck, it’s amazing. Evan’s not even sure which one of them starts moving their mouth first, but then they’re properly kissing, lips sliding together and it’s so fucking good. Evan shifts forward to get a better angle, and he instinctively reaches out to press a gentle hand to Barty’s chin to tilt his head into the right angle, too. But, well, that makes Barty gasp a little, and then his mouth is open against Evan’s mouth. Evan can’t help it; he absolutely has to slide his tongue into his mouth to see what it feels like.

The answer? Fucking incredible. Barty moans when their tongues press against each other, lips still moving hungrily, and Evan can’t get enough of the sounds he’s letting escape. He shifts forward even more, his free hand grasping Barty’s hip. Barty has his own hands pressed against Evan’s chest, rubbing up and down in an entirely too-distracting manner. But then Evan shoves their bodies together, and Barty’s hands fly around to Evan’s back to steady himself. They’re chest-to-chest then, and it’s so fucking good, Evan wants to cry. He wants to press himself into Barty, just climb inside him and never come out again. The abundance of skin-to-skin contact is making his heart sing in his chest, his ears are practically ringing with pleasure; he didn't even know this was what he needed so deeply.

[phantomtutor]

INTRODUCTION TO MANAGERIAL ACCOUNTINGAssignment OverviewReview the three components in the background material to answer the questions about managerial accounting and its purpose.Case AssignmentThe first case consists of two parts.Part IShort-Answer Questions and DefinitionsWhat are the major differences between managerial and financial accounting?Explain how a contribution margin (variable costing, behavioral income statement) differs from an income statement prepared in accordance with US GAAP.Why are certain costs referred to as product costs? What are the major types of product costs incurred by a manufacturer?Define the following terms.Overhead for the production departments.Overhead for non-production departments.Explain the distinction of variable costs, fixed costs, and mixed costs.Explain the difference between direct and indirect costs.Distinguish between controllable and uncontrollable costs.Define sunk costs and opportunity costs.Part IIReal-World ExampleVisit the website for Stitch Fix (Personal styling for everybody) and locate its last quarterly report.https://www.stitchfix.comReview the quarterly report to gain a general understanding of the company’s primary business segments and products/services. Write an essay addressing the following questions based on your research.What products and services does the company provide?How does the financial information provided in the quarterly report (focus on the income statement) differ from financial information used for managerial accounting purposes?As a manager making business decisions within the company, what additional information would you need? (Remember that the income statement may be referred to using different terminology such as statement of earnings or statement of operations.) Give at least two specific pieces of information desirable to a manager, but not included in the published income statement.Assignment ExpectationsPart IWrite 3–5 sentences for each question.Part IIWrite a short essay (300-600) words.Show sources when appropriate. APA format is suggested but not required.

[americapiner]

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[rrrawrf-writes]

🕸 for any character!

hello hello hello here this is, fifty thousand years late! thank u for ur patience ♡♡♡

from this game!

tw: blood, gore, whump/torture, animal death, human death, swearing

—

Sometimes, Commander Tibur Dayehmon of the Cordellan Royal Guard thought about killing his king.

Not seriously, of course. But on long, cold nights like this, when Dayehmon had to leave the warmth of his wife behind in the middle of the night and race halfway across the country to track down his charge, he seriously considered strangling the king. Shoving him off a cliff. Letting him drown in the river Finns.

It would be easy. No one would suspect the king’s lifelong friend and bodyguard to poison his morning tea.

Too bad Dayehmon had morals. 

He was wistfully reminiscing about his wife and the day they were supposed to have in the king’s mountain retreat, when his horse fell, and he fell with it.

The animal let out a high-pitched scream as they tumbled down into a pit that shouldn’t have been there, dug deep into the road. Dayehmon was too securely seated in the saddle; instead of being thrown, he hit the ground with the horse, its weight hitting his leg, and leaving an audible crunch that had Dayehmon crying out in pain.

The horse was louder. It must have snapped one of its own legs in the fall, because it screamed and thrashed, unable to get back to its feet. Dayehmon cursed and yelled, as every heave and twist of its body further crushed his own bones into dust.

He swallowed his own pain - or tried to - and leaned forward as best as he could. His shoulder hurt, too, and his neck, but if the horse kept on like this, it would probably kill him. He ran his free hand along its neck, trying to soothe it, wishing he was in a position to put the poor damn thing out of its misery.

It finally stopped thrashing, at least, but Dayehmon was still trapped; every few moments, the horse let out a cry of pain. He felt much the same way. He fell back against the ground, soft from being recently dug, and sighed.

A bandit’s trap, mostly likely, and he hadn’t noticed anything in the dark. The pit was a good ten feet deep, and wide enough to hold the horse and Dayehmon both. After a long moment, Dayehmon pushed against the horse’s withers, trying to get himself free.

The pain blinded him. He couldn’t stop a sob from clawing out of his throat, as the shattered bones in his trapped leg ground against each other.

He definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

One of his swords was trapped under him, the hilt digging painfully into his side. Dayehmon wriggled around to move it to somewhere more comfortable. He craned his neck, trying to see all the things his pack had thrown loose when they fell, and found a handful of the beacon sticks scattered across the ground.

Just out of reach.

Someone above gave a soft call. “We caught someone!”

Someone. Dayehmon groaned and dropped his head against the dirt again. He slipped his knife into his palm as a head stuck out over the edge of the pit.

“Damn. Worked like you said it would, Orev.”

“Told ya. Did this during the war.”

Eolan accents. Dayehmon clenched his jaw as two more people joined the first, then closed his eyes. The horse, startled, let out a shrill whinny and writhed. Dayehmon bit his tongue until it bled, doing everything he could to stay still, act like he couldn’t feel the horse’s tense, powerful muscles grind against his leg. Whatever was left of it, anyway.

“Musta died during the fall,” someone muttered. There was the sound of shifting dirt and footsteps; the Eolans, sliding down into the pit.

“I dunno, coulda swore I saw him breathing earlier.”

“It’s dark as hell out here, I’m surprised you even saw him. Never seen a Padrunni on a horse.”

“I don’t think he looks Padrunni, look at his hair.”

There was another sharp, scraping sound, and Dayehmon could see light flaring despite his closed eyes. Someone hissed, and said, “Look at his badge.”

Dayehmon slit his eyes open the barest amount. One of the Eolans crouched in front of him, and pushed at his shoulder, trying to see the badge in question. “Well, shit. He’s part of the witchking’s guard.”

Snake-like, Dayehmon’s hand snapped out and wrapped around the Eolan’s shirt, yanking him close. He swept his knife up to the man’s neck, and the bandit froze, eyes wide, as the other two swore and reached for their own weapons.

The movement and noise startled the horse again, and it heaved its body, braying hoarsely and lashing out with its hooves. Dayehmon sucked in a pained breath as the horse’s weight lifted, and then fell back onto his leg; his hands spasmed from the pain, and the bandit he’d caught jerked back and away from him. 

“Damn it, kill that thing!” one of them snapped at the others. Dayehmon went for a knife in his other sleeve, but before he could do anything, the Eolan punched him in the jaw.

He blacked out, momentarily; there was an ear-piercing squeal from the horse, but then, finally, it had stopped moving. When Dayehmon managed to blink the stars from his eyes, he saw one of the bandits wrench a spear out of the horse.

“Part of the witchking’s guard, huh?” sneered the spearman. His voice belonged to the one someone else had called Orev, and he poked Dayehmon’s ribs with his spear, the barbed head of it covered in the horse’s blood and gore. “Bring that light over.”

Dayehmon shut his eyes as the pain in his jaw sharpened from the light now right in his face. His head pounded, but it wasn’t as heavy as the sick knot in his stomach.

Orev crouched down next to Dayehmon, fearlessly within his reach. “Badge from the royal guard, and those ugly scars down that mug of yours,” he remarked, drawing his own fingers down his cheek in mimicry of the three stark white lines that marked the side of Dayehmon’s face. “I’ve seen you. Followin’ after the cursed witchking, lickin’ every one of his footsteps.”

Dayehmon narrowed his eyes at Orev. “Funny,” he bit out, doing everything he could to keep his voice level and calm. “I don’t remember you.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Orev’s lip curled, and he stood up, before driving the butt of his spear into Dayehmon’s side. Dayehmon bit down on a curse as he felt something snap.

“You wouldn’t,” Orev snarled, and hit him again. “There weren’t enough people left alive in that village for any of you to take note.”

He jerked his chin towards the other two. “Get that damn horse off him. We’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

Dayehmon clenched his jaw. He glanced again towards the beacon sticks, and as the other two highwaymen discussed how to move the horse, he shifted slightly, trying to move close enough to reach the beacon sticks - and, like he’d expected, he drew Orev’s attention. 

The spear came down on Dayehmon’s hand, the metal tip slicing straight through and pinning it to the ground. He couldn’t help the cry of pain this time.

“The hell are those s’posed to be?” Orev demanded, holding his light over to get a better look at the beacon sticks. Dayehmon clenched his jaw and didn’t answer, just breathing through the pain. He let out a sharp hiss as the other bandits finally started to drag at the horse, its weight sliding along his ruined leg one last time.

If he didn’t die from infection from the damn spear, he’d never be able to use that leg again.

“Nothing,” Dayehmon said hoarsely. Orev squinted at him suspiciously, then scoffed, and brought his heel down on the scattered beacon sticks, breaking three or four at once.

Dayehmon smiled.

“More of your witchery?” Orev sneered. He didn’t notice how the shattered pieces of the beacon sticks clung to his boot; even if Dayehmon died, they’d be able to track Orev down. “But you aren’t a witch, are you?”

“You really shouldn’t be complaining about magecraft when you’re on our side of the border,” Dayehmon pointed out. 

Orev yanked the spear out of Dayehmon’s hand. Dayehmon whined like a beaten dog, pulling his arm to his chest on instinct. Orev kicked him.

“This is our land,” he snarled. “You bastards stole it from us. You have no rights here.”

Dayehmon tried to push himself up, pain squeezing tears from the corners of his eyes. “We won it -”

“You witches burned every village from here all the way down the Roar,” Orev hissed. He reached down, one strong hand wrapping around Dayehmon’s shirt, and pulled him a bit closer. A burn scar cascaded across the side of Orev’s neck, disappearing underneath his shirt collar. “You’ll pay for your crimes. All of them.“

He shoved Dayehmon against the side of the pit and straightened up. Panting for breath, Dayehmon watched the three bandits warily, trying to decide if it was worth it to try and stab one of them. His leg was crushed and his hand was ruined and he was pretty sure he had a broken rib, so it wasn’t like he was getting out of here any time soon.

He may as well make them miserable.

“Damn, this is water-steel.” One of the other bandits picked up Dayehmon’s second sword; he’d had it strapped to the horse instead of his back, and the woman gave a whistle as she drew the blade a couple inches out of the sheath. Dayehmon’s good hand twitched.

“They’re cursed,” he said blandly, and the Eolan woman jumped and dropped it.

Orev scoffed. “Don’t listen to him,” he snapped at her, and kicked Dayehmon’s crushed leg. Dayehmon closed his eyes against a burst of stars. “You can’t curse swords.”

“You can, actually.” Dayehmon cradled his bleeding, ruined hand to his chest. Orev scoffed again and reached down, grabbing the hilt of Dayehmon’s sword that still hung at his hip - though very awkwardly, now.

As he pulled the blade free, Dayehmon slipped his second knife from his sleeve and stabbed him in the chest. Or at least he tried to - armor hidden by the man’s shirt and the shadows of the night shunted the blade to the side, and it slipped deep into Orev’s shoulder, instead.

The bandit howled from pain and jumped back, pulling the knife from Dayehmon’s hand before he had a chance to yank it out and try again. Swearing, Orev clamped his hand around the short blade; blood welled up between his fingers, and in retaliation, Orev slammed his spear into Dayehmon’s shoulder.

He must have blacked out again, because the next thing Dayehmon felt was the awful, tearing pain as Orev pulled the barbed spearhead free from his body. “You piece of shit,” Orev seethed. He dragged the bloody spearhead across Dayehmon’s chest. “You’ll pay for that. Give you some new scars to even your ugly mug out, yeah?”

Dayehmon flinched as the spear tapped against his scarred cheek; the lines went down his neck and under his collar, too, and Orev asked, “Wonder how far down those go?”

“Only my wife knows that,” Dayehmon quipped, breathless and unable to see straight - unable to think straight from the pain.

Orev snorted, and then he spat, a glob of saliva landing on Dayehmon’s shirt.

“Let’s get him out of here and off the road,” Orev ordered the other two bandits. “Grab his things. Maybe this witch-worshipping filth has something else worth keeping.”

Dayehmon watched one of the bandits scramble awkwardly out of the pit, the soft, loose dirt giving them some trouble. The woman gathered everything together, stuffing it back haphazardly into Dayehmon’s pack. She crumpled the few remaining beacon sticks as she did, and Dayehmon wondered where the hell Mafvin was - would he even be close enough to sense the broken sticks?

He dropped his head back against the wall of the pit. The pain was overwhelming, but he tried to press his bloody hand to his bloody shoulder, a weak attempt at staunching the flow. None of it hurt worse than his crushed leg, spikes of pain radiating from his knee; it had taken the brunt of the damage from the horse’s fall.

He didn’t notice the rope until Orev fastened it around his neck. Dayehmon’s eyes snapped open, and the bandit grinned down at him. “I was worried you were gone,” he said, and pressed his foot down on Dayehmon’s shattered knee. Gasping, Dayehmon couldn’t help but writhe from the added pain. “Stay awake, bastard.”

Orev stepped back, taking the pressure off of Dayehmon’s leg, and called up to the other two bandits, now both out of the pit, “Haul him out.”

The rope tightened around Dayehmon’s throat. He sucked in a breath; ignoring the screaming from his shoulder, he reached up with his unharmed hand, trying to fit a finger in between the rope and his neck as they dragged him upwards. Struggling weakly, Dayehmon gasped for breath, his vision going white. He tried to get his good leg underneath him, to take some of the pressure off his windpipe, but that only lasted long enough for him to get a quick breath of air, before the pulling took over again.

It felt like an eternity before Dayehmon was on his back again, on level ground and staring up at the stars through tears-blurred eyes. He pulled feebly at the taut rope around his neck, but one of the bandits he couldn’t see kept the pressure just tight enough to make every breath a struggle.

He could see the female bandit out of the corner of his eye, pacing over to the pit to reach down; Orev scrambled up a moment later.

“Still awake?” Orev ground the butt of his spear into Dayehmon’s shoulder, prompting a whimper from the guard. Orev grinned. “Good. We still got a ways to go, and I ain’t wasting the time to put you on a horse. Better keep breathing.”

He looked away from Dayehmon and opened his mouth to call to the others. Whatever words were going to come out instead turned into a strangled shriek as thorny vines burst from the middle of the road, snaking up Orev’s legs. The other bandits shouted in alarm, and the rope around Dayehmon’s neck slackened as they dropped it, the holder running to Orev instead. They didn’t get very far - another set of lashing vines grabbed them and pulled them to the ground.

Dayehmon dropped his head to the ground, an awful, hysterical laugh clawing its way out of his throat. He could feel, more than hear, the vibrating of hooves, galloping along the road, and he dropped his head to one side to see the white socks of his king’s horse skid to a stop.

“Tibur!” More plants curled around Dayehmon now - but they were free of spikes and thorns, far gentler with him than they were with the three bandits. Petal-soft vines wrapped gently around his bleeding shoulder, but living plants could do little to staunch blood flow, even when guided by the magic of Dayehmon’s king. A soft groan escaped him as he felt his head and shoulders gently lifted, Mafvin cradling Dayehmon in his lap.

“Tibur, I’m sorry,” Mafvin said, his green eyes wide and frantic as he pressed his hand to the plants covering Dayehmon’s bleeding shoulder. More wrapped around his hand, thinner and flowering, the petals pressing against the wounds. “I’m sorry, I - I didn’t meant to be gone for long - You should have stayed -”

Dayehmon forced a tired smile. It was difficult to focus on the king’s face; he closed his eyes for a moment, and shivered when he felt the rope wrapped around his neck slither away. “Wherever you go, your majesty,” Dayehmon panted, “I follow.”

“I know.” Mafvin dropped his head, bowing until his forehead pressed against Dayehmon’s. Something wet fell against the bodyguard’s scarred cheek. “I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t have run off -”

“It’s all right.” Dayehmon forced a grin, the expression pulled crooked by his scars. “Think this is the fastest I’ve found you again in years.”

A cracked laugh clawed its way out of Mafvin’s throat. He pressed his lips to the corner of Dayehmon’s mouth; Dayehmon tried to lift a hand, but the pain was too much, and he dropped it again with a wince. All the thoughts he had, all the anger and annoyance at Mafvin running off again, had long disappeared. He was just glad the king was here now.

The king looked up at a choked-off curse, and his face hardened as he remembered the bandits, all caught up in spiked vines. Orev struggled with a knife, trying to slice through the plants that held him captive, a couple of feet off the ground.

“You gods-fucking, murderous, monster,” the Eolan spat at Mafvin. “What are you gonna do to us?”

Mafvin’s voice was perfectly cold - but the vines around Orev loosened, just a fraction, just enough to give the bandit hope. “I promised I would take no more lives after the Desolation.”

“Promises mean nothin’, with a cowardly witch like you,” Orev sneered. Mafvin’s face became stone.

“You’re right,” he said softly. Dayehmon watched the king raise his hand, and then closed it into a fist. He closed his eyes, sighing with a motion that cracked his ribs even more. 

A sickening crunch of bones, and a cry of pain that was cut short into a gurgle, as the vines wrapped themselves tighter and tighter around the three bandits. Dayehmon had killed his fair share of people, and seen even more die, in horrible ways - but he turned his face into Mafvin’s shirt, grasping the cloth weakly with one hand until the screams and cries fell silent.

King Mafvin was not physically strong enough to pick Dayehmon up, but he did anyway, lifting the guard with supernatural ease. As gentle as he was, Dayehmon still let out a hiss of pain. 

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Mafvin whispered, as a wind rose around them, and along with it, the vertigo that came every time Mafvin magically transported them somewhere. With his injuries, Dayehmon didn’t think he could stand it; he moaned in pain and clutched even tighter at Mafvin. The king could do anything he wanted with his magic - anything, except heal. 

“Never again, Tibur. I promise. Never again.”

[hprse-moved]

is it valid to unintentionally make most of your characters have dysfunctional families because thats what you have experience with

YEAH but like.... huge fuckin same

[manondemissy]

❛ maybe when you tell your friends, you can tell them what you saw in me. ❜ / charles

MITSKI LYRIC / SENTENCE STARTERS  |  accepting !    @lovebled

           ❝ce que je vois en toi❞      her brows  raise a bit  in  his direction.  Past tense, why is he speaking in past tense ? But her demeanor speaks as though she wants him to already have known this.   ❝ou peut-être que vous pouvez leur dire, quand vous revenez dans deux semaines ?❞ her head  tilts a bit  ,  brown curls toppling over one side of her shoulder  and  she  pulls a  bit  of  a tight lipped smile.   Manon could go back to her friends and talk about what she sees in Charles,  but truthfully it’s more important that Charles knows how she feels ?  and if he didn’t,  then what did moving to another country mean ? Still,  she shifts a bit on the bed, combing through her clothes , her  suitcase.  She doesn’t mean to put him on the spot like this.   ❝ vous ne devez pas mais je pense que ce serait bien. Je ne veux pas retenir mika, lisa et lucas à l'appartement. j'aimerais rester avec toi.❞   In his  apartment , or whatever ,  but she doesn’t want to take her room back and she has a feeling that mika will be stubborn about it.   she doesn’t want to leave him,  but she can’t stay ?  

   ❝  Je leur dirai à quel point vous êtes devenu plus intelligent depuis votre arrivée à Londres et à quel point vous vous souciez de moi et à quel point je tiens à vous..  OK ? ❞     her brows  shoot up  a little here,  the corners of her lips turning up a bit.  ❝ pouvez-vous m'aider à faire mes bagages?❞   

[iwrite-sinsandtragedies]

There are definitely a few Cove comments (like in charity) and Liz still has the Cove rejected your proposal joke even if you're dating Baxter (regardless of your affection with Cove though) if you text your family about where you went if you leave the restaurant at the end of step 3, but it's definitely a weird one on both sides. If you have crush on Cove, you kind of expect him to be brought up more even when dating Baxter. If you don't, there are those moments that feel really awkward.

Oh! I definitely missed the text conversation since I have such an independent MC. It's funny that it'd be there that I'd end up passing it, since I usually explore each path a little bit before going back and sticking to a response, but it was such a no brainer of me to not bother with texting the fam (character wise) that it slipped by me 😂I'll have to explore it in my next playthrough!

But, yeah, even with those little things it still just doesn't take away from the lack of feelings for me. I mean, if you had a relationship that wasn't as close, of course it would be a different story but, when the relationship is completely invested however, that sudden lack of commentary is very immersion breaking and takes away from the playing experience. At least for me.

Like, for me, it isn't so much that those comments are still there - it's the way characters react to them that's unsettling and story breaking. You can still flirt with Cove, even while dating Baxter, but his reaction to it is so blasé and "ha ha okay" instead of the typical crush responses you'd always had previously. It's like someone pressed reset on everyone's feelings, y'know?

[edit] And, sorry, forgot to add in that I can definitely see how the opposite might be true for a non-romanced Cove. I've said before that he, unlike the other two, reads heavily like a love interest no matter the situation😂so I can definitely see how those comments could be awkwards if that wasn't your intention while playing with him. Overall, it just feels really unfinished in that specific area of the game, imo.

[howtowriteanintroduction762]

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[sleepyverstappens]

Rules of the game: Answer these questions and tag 10 blogs you’d like to know better!

Thanks to @bottasvaltteri @hamiltonxtwo and @meyymuh for the tags!

Nickname: Dais, Daiske, which would me pronounces as days or daysque I guess

Zodiac: Sagittatius

Height: 5ft6 or 168cm

Time: 20.23

Favourite Band: Bastille

Song stuck in my head: Nothing, just the instrumental music I’m playing whilst I’m trying to write (and failing because I’m doing this instead)

Last movie I saw: The second half of A Star Is Born

Last thing I googled: “How much is 168cm in feet”

Other blogs: moanboymoan, but I don’t reblog stuff to it anymore since tumblr banned nsfw blogs, so it’s just there for my own use :P

Why this username: I’ve had a username starting with ‘sleepy’ ever since Darren Criss did a theater ‘game’ called N.A.P. which gave me a really nice picture of a sleepy darren, which birthed sleepydarren, which then became sleepyblaine, sleepystiles, sleepyhowlters, sleepysuggles and now sleepyverstappens 

Following: 157

Average amount of sleep: Uhh about 8 to 9 hours

Lucky number: 8

What I’m wearing: grey/black jeans, blue t-shirt and a gray/black cardigan, but I should really get into my pjs

Dream Job: marketing for a big brand or F1 team

Dream trips: New York to see a different broadway show each night or New Zealand.

Favourite food: hutspot or just fries

Instruments I play: none :|

Eye colour: dark brown

Hair colour: dark brown

Languages I speak: Dutch and English, a tiny bit of German and even tinier bit of Spanish

Most iconic song: uhhh I’ll say Africa by Toto, because I unironically love that song okay shush

Random fact: Iwrite fic at work sometimes *shrug*

Tagging: I have no idea who has or hasn’t been tagged yet so sorry for any double tags @singlemalter @maxfewtrell @itsmaxver @maxfewtrell@weareallmadinhereinnit @withhopeinourheart @dreamingofseastars @charlesleclerc 

[1nsaankahanhai-bkr]

Asoiaf meme-

Rules: Answer the 10 questions below. Then make up 10 of your own for the next person to answer and tag people.

thanks @poesiariptide for tagging me.

1. If you could take a character’s place for one day who would it be?

Young griff . And let him know the truth Or Doran and cover up for his poor communication skills.

2. If you had to be the illegitimate child of a character who would it be?

Elia martell or catelyn because they were awesome mothers .

3. Would you prefer to settle in Westeros or Essos?

Westeros. But exclusively in Dorne.

4. Which in-universe community or social group do you wish had been portrayed differently? 

Sand snakes and dothraki. Basically all the brown people.

5 .Are there any pairings that you don’t really ship in canon, but would probably like in a modern AU? (Note- modern AU implies much smaller age gaps where necessary.)

Jaime and Brienne. (Same as yours ) and young griff and Elia sand. And Quentyn and Sansa.

6. What difference between the show and books bothers you the most, personally?

DORNE!!!!!

7. One fandom habit that is widely accepted, but according to you is totally wrong?

15 year olds were not old enough or mature even in medieval times.

8. One character you wish had gotten a bigger role or more story influence?

Quentyn martell. He had so much potential. (I think you knew the answer)

9.Your top five favourite fancasts (i.e. fancasts you have either seen or made that you find absolutely perfect for the character)?

a. Anushka shetty - Arianne martell

C. Surekha sikri- Meria martell ( look at that smug smile)

b. Milind somand- lewyn nymros martell

d. Aegon vi targaryen (not young griff)- Mihir pandi ( I coloured his eyes and he is brown head to toe)

e. Oberyn Martell- Rana daggubati ( he can switch from cute to sexy to adorable to angry to scary in a split second)

f. Bonus -both Ratna pathak Shah and supriya Pathak for loreza Martell.

10. The most powerful (as in meaningful, or which left a lasting impression) moment in your favourite female character’s storyline, from your perspective?

Elia and how she was is remembered for her good nature and how gracefully she carried herself despite her poor health and how calm she remained in that dire situation. Also cat because of her adaptability in the hostile north.

My ten questions-

Are there any literary parallels between your favourite character and some other character?(I have many .I will probably make a list some day)

What's one thing you wished grrm explorer more?

Is there a character that fandom loves but you despise(apart from elia's husband)

Fave non canon pair?

If you could change one in- verse subplot what would it be?

What's the one thing about your favourite character that you can't stand or find irritating?

Is there anything that would make you defend your least favourite character?( eg- ragger was not madly in love. He was just mad)

Favourite Jon ship? (Although he is dead) do you think he will come back?

Your worst experience with fandom racists?

What do you think of Quentyn/young griff?

Sorry most of them are martell centric.

I tag- @riana-one , @ramzesfics , @infinitestalia , @alyssaallyrion , @sayruq , @incurablescribbler , @heathcliffitsmecathy, @forme-iwrite and @delrosariorg .

[sandiewill]

Coming October 30, 2019 - #TheTakings ​A #PsychologicalThriller In the murky swamps of central Florida, a boy is stolen on his way home one night. No one heard his screams. No one saw him struggle. And the police have no answers. Can one man's visions reveal the truth? #authorsofinstagram #author #book #bookpromotion #sandiewill @sandie_will If you like psychological thrillers/horror, you're sure to love this new novel! #halloween #writersofinstagram #writerslife #writerlife #writers #writerssociety #writersofig #writersnetwork #writerscorner #writersroom #bookstagram #writersociety #iwrite #bookgram #writerloop #wordporn #socialmedia #authorsofinstagram #authorsofinsta #writersofinstagram #writersofig #writersofinsta #writercommunity #writingcommunity https://www.instagram.com/p/B4LdDK5g6mk/?igshid=nawyfy0csumn

[rrrawrf-writes]

🌻 🌻 🌻

this only took five years to get to! thank u for the ask 💜💜💜

i bounced off of this prompt from @gingerly-writing!!!!

—

“Give me one reason not to hurt you. Just. One.”

Winn paused mid-step. He’d known someone was walking behind him, but his powers hadn’t recognized Rembrandt. Winn knew the voice the second he spoke, though, and his shoulders tensed, the back of his neck prickling.

Rembrandr had a gun under his coat. He was four meters back. That was enough room for Winn to dodge.

Hopefully.

Rainwater soaked through Winn’s hoodie, and he tried not to shiver as he turned. He eyed Rembrandt, and raised his voice. “I know where she is.”

Rembrandt’s grip tightened on his pistol under his jacket, his breath catching in his throat.

“Where?” he demanded. He pushed wet hair out of his face. “They took her. What happened to her, Winn?”

Winn’s power raced down nearby streets and alleys, locating fire escapes and cars and dumpsters to hide behind - any sort of escape route or cover he could run for. Rain pounded against the glistening pavement, and both of them stayed silent as a car cruised by. Rembrandt didn’t even flinch when water thrown up by the tires splashed against his legs.

“I got her away from them, Rembrandt.” Winn didn’t want to admit it. He hated Rembrandt; he didn’t want to offer the man any sort of comfort. But none of this was ever supposed to get any bigger than Winn and Rembrandt. None of it should have spilled over into their daily lives, involved innocents.

Winn hadn’t meant to get anyone killed.

He watched Rembrandt warily. “I got her away,” he repeated. “They never got a chance to hurt her. She didn’t want to go back to you. She wanted to disappear.”

Rembrandt pulled the gun from underneath his jacket, aiming it at Winn. “Where is she?” he repeated, his voice cracking.

Winn shifted his feet on the slick pavement, ready to run. “She’s gone, Rembrandt.”

“If you don’t tell me,” Rembrandt bit out, “you’ll suffer, Winn. I’ll make your life a living hell.”

Winn’s hands curled into fists. Anger rose, slowly. “You already have.”

Rembrandt laughed. It echoed around the empty street, in the spaces between raindrops, and Winn had to use every ounce of willpower not to run at that laugh.

“I haven’t,” Rembrandt said, his eyes glinting in the street lights. “I haven’t even started, Winn. You have no idea what I can do to you.”

He waited a beat, then added, “This is your last chance, Winn. Where is she?”

Winn’s lip curled. He glanced to the side, towards the closest alley. “Go fuck yourself, Remy.”

He was moving even before he finished speaking, bolting for the alley. Rembrandt swung his pistol to the right and fired - the bullet just barely clipped Winn.

Winn clapped a hand to his side, but he kept running, dodging between the two buildings and throwing himself up to the first fire escape he reached. By the time Rembrandt reached the mouth of the alley, Winn was gone.

Rembrandt swore viciously, throwing the pistol off to the side.

He was going to kill Winn. One day. One way or another.

But not yet. Not until Winn had suffered twice - ten times as much as Rembrandt had.

Then he’d kill him.

[mf-despair-queen]

PART 1: hi there! Iwrite a smut book on Wattpad it’s not one of those that takes other people’s stuff in one big book it’s like actually my own writing and stuff and I have a good amount of reads and favorites. You inspire me a lot and I’ve always wanted to be friends with you but I’ve always been too scared to come say hi. (Go to part 2 lol)

PART 2: one time like maybe around a year ago I messaged you asking for writing advice since you’re like my favorite Dylan writing but you were super busy at the time and after a few messages never answered back (which is totally okay I 100% understand) but my book on Wattpad is about to reach 200K reads and I wanted to say thank you because when I read your Writing it got me to want to start writing fan fiction again. (Sorry last part is part 3)

I’m so inspired by you and I know I wouldn’t be where I’m at with my book without you. I wanted you to know how much you and your writing mean to me and that I’m so thankful. I hadn’t written in so long but your writing pushes me to pick it back up again and it’s has really made a difference for me dealing with life in general. People might think this is super cheesy and dumb but I wanted you to know. I hope you are well and I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us next! Much love 💕

Omg hiiiiiiiii. I’m glad you were able to come forward and send these very, very sweet messages. 

I’m glad to hear that you are doing well on Wattpad! It’s great to know that people are able to do what they love and get the recognition they deserve! I hope you keep it up and continue to get the views and love. (you could totally also sen me this book so I can check it out *eye emoji* lol)

I’m also really sorry to hear that I did that. I... am not the best about getting back to people, especially lately. I only talk to a few people these days and it’s not as often as it should be. I take forever to get back to people and a lot of the time, my messages can be buried :( I know it’s not an excuse so I’m sorry that I was never able to get back to you. 

I’m glad I was/am able to inspire you to write. Some of my closest friends on here did the same for me - reading their works made me want to write again when I hadn’t written in years. So, I’m glad that my crappy works can make a change in someone else. I’m sorry I’m not able to write as often as I used to. Hopefully I can pump something out after this weekend passes. I have my first CPA exam on the 8th, so I should have some time to spare to write (though, I am unsure rn if it’ll be for Dylan or if I might take up writing for Taeyong as well). So I hope that you continue to write and look forward to when I can get something new out. 

I appreciate you support and your kind words. It really means a lot to me when I haven’t been the most active lately. Please please please never hesitate to try and reach out again. Or even through asks is fine too. I will try to be better about checking my messages between my review time. 

Much love to you, anon. I owe everything to you and everyone else. I wouldn’t be here without your amazing support. 

[thelatestbloggingguide-blog]

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[thejustreflections]

attention writers! why do you write? tell me in the comments or dm. i'll post your answers in my story! . -- jpa ❤️ // #writerscommunity #justreflections . 🙃 #writingchallenge #writingprompts #writingph #writersofinstagram #iwrite #menwhowrite #writongmen #reflections #amwriting #bookworm #poemdaily #poetrylovers #poet #poem #jonathanacabo #jonpageacabo #kuwait #q8 #kuwaitcity #filipino #ofw #filipinoabroad (at Poetry The Voice Of Heart) https://www.instagram.com/thejustreflections/p/BwSuQKHhz3J/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=19wxlzzwlcvq3