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hanihaato · 3 months

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a/n: jealousy themes, yandere sunday x reader, mentions of abduction, incapacitation, drabble

Your artistic silence is broken with a snap of fingers and a question.

“Now, who is that man?”

Before the vision disappears, you have a split second to admire your efforts. Your skills have improved over the last three hours where Sunday had left your dreamscape to attend to some urgent and questionable matters.

This time, you have delved into the concept of imaginary creations that followed your newfound belief that even in this kind of twisted dream, deliberately manipulated by Sunday, you could still treat it like… a dream.

Do wonders. Keep yourself occupied to take care of your sanity.

The man you’ve created doesn’t have a name as you don’t recognize him. Maybe he was your own creation, or maybe he was one of the countless tourists at Reverie Hotel whose face you’ve been fortunate to remember. He would have made for a much more entertaining company than Sunday is, especially as he presses his lips into a thin line and looks disappointed in you.

“A secret boyfriend. We were planning to elope tonight, before you…” The story cuts short, as Sunday closes his eyes and sighs heavily, as if dealing with a troublesome kid. You take the warning and end your joke here, but because you know you have the privilege to as his beloved, you pout at him. “Alright. I was bored. Happy now? I thought you said I can do whatever I want here. Well, you keep calling it my dreamscape, after all.”

Sunday sits you down on a sofa that materializes within a blink of an eye. It’s another reminder you’re not in Penacony; there, nothing like that could happen, as it’s a dream with rules you are bound to obey. But at least there, you could understand its mechanism as it was created to mimic the real world.

‘Your’ dreamscape was solely ruled by Sunday’s whims.

You fall on a stack of heavenly puffy cushions, with his arm draped around your waist.

“Dearest. It’s our dream. This fantasy wouldn’t exist without any of us,” Sunday promptly corrects you and smiles gently at your irate gaze. “Believe me, I wholeheartedly would love to give you a fair share of power over this place, but it would be a bit dangerous to someone not practised in lucid dreaming.”

If you didn’t exceed his tolerance for defiance for today, you would have hit him with one of the pillows. Instead, you sink yourself deeper into them.

“Alright, then… What do I have to do to be classified as experienced? As far as I am aware, spending a whole three months in a dream should have made me an expert.”

“That’s a lovely conclusion. But does spending time in a library make you able to get a degree in every subject that’s written in the books?”

The question silences you. The break is long enough for Sunday to design your surroundings: a coffee table that matches the times, a porcelain tea set with golden details and some infusion with fascinating taste. They go with a tray of cookies and little sandwiches, as well as a bowl of fruits and nuts that would taste better if they were real.

However, you have to do with what you have on your hands.

You bite into a biscuit. “Then, what should I do? To be adept enough, that is.”

“There are many other requirements…” He falls into a reverie, and just as you think he closes the topic—you’ve been willing to give it up at this point, solely for the quiet to continue—Sunday speaks again. “If you can wake up on your own or overwrite any of the aspects of this dream, for example, gravity, I will consider giving you a little more power here.”

So, he’s asking you for the impossible.

“…I won’t be wiping myself out only for you to ‘consider’.”

Sunday takes a sip of tea. The porcelain can’t hide a tenderish smile, but the unexplainable gleam in his eyes is exposed.

“There is always a shortcut.”

“That doesn’t, um, doom me for eternity?”

“Yes. If I have a say in this, it’s a very delightful one.” And after the next sentence, you know why he’s so engaged in this discussion. “Marrying me.”

…

Sighing, you cross your arms and shake off Sunday’s arm from your shoulder. “I thought you hated liars.”

“Which part of what I said do you consider a lie?”

You ignore him and get up from the sofa, heading towards the big door. Sunday might have changed the look of the place, but the layout always remains the same. Behind that door, you will find a short hall that leads to several other rooms that don’t have Sunday in them and so are preferred.

“I don’t want to talk (to you) anymore, sorry,” you mutter out the apology just to defend yourself if Sunday was going to accuse you of being rude. “I am going to daydream—dreamdream?—about, I guess, men, if I can’t have anyone here. Goodbye.”

You reach for the pair of doors and find them uncharacteristically too heavy. You try to open the door, but just then a big silver chain crosses over their handles, a small lock appears, but you don’t have time to notice the details as you find yourself staring into a plain wall.

“Now, no need to rush,” Sunday purrs, and you turn around to see your beloved doors behind his back. “Would you like to play a round or two with me? I think we could have a wonderful conversation about how to pry the imaginary door locks and who are the people you’ve been thinking about so much.” He smiles. “All with names and examples. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us, isn’t that so?”

#i think i write scenarios better than headcanons hmm #honkai star rail #hsr #sunday #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #the act

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courtingchaos · 13 days

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Unclean

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

Warnings: Religious themes, menstruation: sex and talk of, fingering, blood in various places, allusions to physical abuse (not reader) it’s period sex!

A/N: Listen, I am an ex-for-almost-20-years-Catholic who grew up around a lot of Southern Baptist, so excuse my (probable) misinterpretation of Leviticus okay? I just think Roy Tillman is a real Old Testament guy. I’ve had this little one shot in the wings for a while and only got the guts to finish it recently. I’m also deeply aware that I am interpreting this character much differently than the fandom at large so like, peace be with you.

18+ NSFW No Minors

Nothing but low lights behind the pulpit and a few along the aisles to let you see the outline of him in the first pew. Leaned forward, still and quiet in the cold dark that seeps into the small wooden church. Outside, the calvary congregates and converses after their Sunday dinner provided by their shepherd and in here, in the small family chapel, it’s just the two of you in the glow of old bulbs. Warm yellow gives the bridge of his nose a highlight and shines off the sun bleached strands in his hair. When your footsteps reach his radius he looks over his shoulder, tense and sharp, but the golden glow reflects off his eyes to give him a softer look than he deserves.

You stop two pews back and he gives you a once over, nervous eyes flitting from your head to your feet and up again before he begins chewing on his bottom lip. “You go home?”

“Yes.”

“Why you still in your dress?”

“It’s still Sunday.”

He laughs through his nose and turns back to the pulpit, thumb rubbing lightly against his reddened lip. “Did you stop at the house?”

You step forward one more length of pew and stop again to watch him fidget with the vape in his hand. “No, Roy wanted to talk to my father so I came back out here.”

Gator hums, a twitch of his lip letting his displeasure show for just a moment. The smack of the metal against his palm is loud in the small space like the yell you know he’d like to let loose would be. Sharp and mean like his demeanor, trying to be like his father but just south of right.

“Did you eat?” You ask while creeping up beside him. The smoke from the pit nearby has snuck in through the gaps in the doorways and mingled with the dry smell of wood and old hay. This chapel has always reminded you of an attic with its exposed beams but the scent of decades old pine makes you the most nostalgic.

“No.”

“Not hungry?”

He looks up at you before he sits back against the bench, takes in your pieces before the whole of you, eyes flitting again from your open coat to the hem of your dress fluttering just below your knee. Vape set aside he reaches out to drag a finger up from your knee and under that hem where you keep some of your secrets. Lines of ink not even your parents have seen, another cut you’ve inflicted like the hundred others while trying to claw your way out of this compound.

Fingers dig into the back of your thigh to hold you in front of him, lets the heat from his palm sink in while he doesn’t answer you.

“What was this morning about?”

He tilts his head in lieu of opening his mouth.

“Roy was on his ‘god honoring woman’ kick again. Did Karen piss him off last night?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t home.” His other hand snakes between your thighs to hold higher up. “She didn’t look upset.” He drops his gaze then to stare at the yellow flowers dotted over the black fabric of your dress, the one your mother bought you as a threat veiled in a peace offering.

“A little too much Leviticus for my taste.”

“Mm.”

Your coat lands on the floor behind you and his fingers inch higher on the inside of your thigh. He seems fixed on the way your dress bunches over his wrist instead of the soft touch behind his ear where you tuck an errant strand of hair finally falling out of its place. Outside there’s a muffled uproar of laughter that makes you cast a sharp look through the foggy windows and Gator takes the opportunity to move his warmth away to pluck at the buttons at the top of your dress.

“Little low cut for church.”

“My mother doesn’t think so.”

“I’ll thank her later.” An actual smile this time as the first button slips through silky cotton, followed by two more before you stop him. The wood creaks under your knee as you shift your weight to it, sliding it up against his hip. Again his hand finds your thigh, up high to find his favorite ink, a simple black line cross that his thumb rubs small circles into.

He hasn’t noticed yet that you tucked your underwear in your coat before you walked all the way out here. Risky since this morning left you with a bloody visit and now you sit unclean under the rafters his family raised. Your dress slides up easily enough, almost up enough to share your secret, and finally he pulls you close. Tugs at you to get you over his lap, your other knee colliding dully with the bench back.

It’s like a switch with him sometimes the way his mood will turn. Sour petulance that makes you roll your eyes will break for roaming hands that map out your body. Sullen quiet suddenly loud with his wants, with his questions, with his panting and moaning. Any place he can have you but more often in places that would bring down his father’s ire if you were found.

Flush against him now he pulls you down to meet the seat of his hips before he pushes your dress up around your waist and pauses mid grope to laugh.

“Does your mother approve of this too?” Fingers move again along the crease of your hip until they reach soft curls. He catches your eye and doesn’t look away as he dips his fingers into your heat, his lip caught between his teeth again, this time with a smirk. He pushes up slow, thick fingers dragging against oversensitive flesh, his palm flat so you can grind against him. Words seem caught in his throat, probably something goading and whispered, something laughed out on a breath. You know he wants to make you blush about how wet you already are and how loud you’re panting but he changes his angle and moves his hand, pulls it back in front of himself and stops to stare at the red staining his fingers.

“Oh.” You don’t pretend to sound surprised. He frowns but doesn’t push you away like you thought he might’ve, instead he seems frozen in place and you don’t miss the blush beginning to trickle down his cheeks. “It’s okay.” You grab his fist hovering between you. “It’s okay.” You repeat and he looks at you then, wide eyes searching for something. Leaned in close you bring his hand up slow, up towards his lips parted around a whispered sound of protest.

“Is-isn’t this breaking a r-rule or something?”

He doesn’t curl his fingers away when you press them to his mouth, a long line of blood from his cupids bow to his chin. With your free hand you fumble with his belt and his pants, keeping his doe eyed gaze glued to yours.

“Your father walks in here without burning.”

Confusion has nestled its way into his features, eyes squinted at you until you wedge your hand in between thick fabric and hot skin. His gaze droops when you pull him free, mouth splitting open with a quiet gasp. You move then, sitting up on your knees to look down on him wanting and blooded, dragging your hands down his long arms along the back the of the pew outstretched to grip the hardwood with white knuckles. Fear, you think at first, from the wild print you’ve left on his face. Anxiousness maybe that he might be found like this, not just compromised but marked now, cut off from the flock finally.

“Gator…” You barely whisper and he’s chasing you upwards. Against the restraints of your hands on his wrists he pulls when your lips don’t descend to meet his.

A choked off whine, “Please.” His hips wiggle between your knees for some kind of friction, anything to get closer. “C’mon, come back.” He pleads through clenched teeth, tacky red turning matte on his full lips. It draws you back in and he smiles when you close the distance with a brush of a kiss, something light that makes him huff before you consume him.

He doesn’t taste like when you bite your cheek or suck on a paper cut. It’s a foreign taste on a familiar tongue, faint passion fruit from his habit and a metallic tinge that makes you groan into him. He feels good. Pinned like a fluttering moth looking for an escape, for a saving grace that he seems to find in your lips and the dip of your tongue. His breath comes in sharp puffs through his nose smushed against your cheek and again you hear him whine when you don’t let him raise his hands.

A shake of his head to break the kiss to get his point across to take a deep breath-

Outside there’s heavy footfalls on the old wooden steps. Both of you freeze like deer, your eyes trained on the heavy door and his boring through your chin, waiting to bolt at the first sign of discovery.

Muffled voices, a click of metal and your heart in your throat when this unsuspecting intruder has a change of pace. A muffled question. A pause. Quiet laughter and parting footsteps.

Your fingers simply drape and Gator takes the opportunity to surge into you. Hands grabbing at your hips to hold you closer, pushing you down on him. He guides himself in with his thumb, a quick brush over that ache of yours amplified through thrill and nature.

You miss him watching your face scrunch up in apprehension. Lips parted like his, pink lipstick smudged with blood, only you hiss out an “easy” that he answers with a shush. Lets his hands run back up under your dress to find his favorite little scar of ink, smearing red along the way. Almost dry now but his fingerprints in your mess between the two of you make him forget his reservations for a few minutes. He forgets the crowd outside and the house ten minutes away. Pushes the expectations away. He instead watches you relax into him, the way your hands unwind from his shirt only to feel them slide up behind his neck to wind back up in his hair. Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip before you bite down on a moan when he bucks his hips up gently.

This wet heat, new to him in this taboo, draws him in when you roll your hips in earnest suddenly. You’ve angled him to find that magic spot he’s usually still searching for by this point, your head rolling back on your shoulders to ride your knees raw against the wood. The deep heat of you almost scorches him, a small voice in the back of his thoughts reminding him of hellfire and naked founts.

“Fuck.” Said out loud in the hopes of chasing away a voice tinged with vitriol and a release of the climbing pleasure up his spine. You writhe in his lap and he gropes at your hips, slides long fingers down and under to grab at your thighs. Slick with sweat you slip in his grasp, heavy breaths blown over his locks when you finally reach behind him to hold onto the bench.

The open top of your dress brushes his face enough times he bites at the buttons, finally catching them between his teeth. Through his lashes he watches your face, glued to the peek of teeth behind your lips. The way you glitter in low light and muggy air. The dip of your collar bones when you roll your body into his and he can feel you tighten all around him, core and arms and air.

A not gentle hand suddenly wrapped around his jaw, fingers prodding into his mouth to hang and pull. Wandering lips messily find his own and then trail off over his cheek to end at his ear, your peak whined against him. Pulsing that makes him hold you closer so he can chase after you to find his own end.

He’s been on the precipice since you threw your coat on the ground and all it takes is a few gentle thrusts before he chokes on a groan and suddenly he feels bottomless. No floor, no bonfires, no congregants too close for comfort. Just your face in his neck and the shared messy warmth pressed between you two.

There’s a swing of headlights over the front of the chapel that breaks whatever tandem calm you two have created. Separated wordlessly with barely a glance at the extra mess, Gator quickly readjusts his pants and you snatch your coat on your way to the small ladies room in the foyer. More muffled voices tonight that intrude on your privacy while you scrub smudged lipstick off your face and rebutton your dress, jumping only a little when there’s a knock at the door.

“You fall in?” Your father jokes on the other side.

“Give me a minute!” You snap while trying to slide your underwear back on. A final look before you walk out to make sure the surface of you is presentable, no visible marks or smudges. Out in the entryway your father gestures at you to follow and Roy gives you too long of a look when he waves. You wonder if he can see it all over your face even though you scrubbed the evidence off. Wonder if he can smell it on you two like a predator sniffing out wounded prey.

Can he see your handprints all over his son? Invisible blood that marks him different now. The tang of sin sits all over your tongue and when you run it behind your teeth to savor you catch Gator staring again. Catch him watching your hands twist in your coat pockets and his eyes flit back up to your mouth. You can feel the faded touch of him worrying at your tattoo even across a courtyard.

“Hey Gator?” You holler at him while climbing into your father’s truck. “Don’t forget dinner.” A simple smile for him before you slam the door, a break in the tension and your phone is vibrating seconds later. You wait to look until your home but it still makes you laugh even when you’re starting your laundry.

Thank your mom for me.

#Gator Tillman #Gator Tillman Fic #Gator Tillman x Reader #My Fic #My Work #Gator Tillman Smut

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arachine · 2 years

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— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?: 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬

+ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝: multiple stranger things men

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: me when i’m reposting this for the 5th time

+ part one can be found here !

+ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: the small font is a stylistic choice that is only used for headcanons because they’re usually very short reads!

peter “the 001 for you” ballard

↻ length: crazy men have big dicks. this is a known—a fact. it cannot and will not be debated. why do some of you keep going back to your crazy exes? surely not because of their personalities…but i digress. peter doesn’t even know he’s got a dick of gold swinging in his pants. like he’s aware of its presence, but he never really sat down and thought ‘damn, i’ve gotta really big dick’—probably because he’s too distracted most of the time planning the demise of a bunch of little kids more than half of his age.

coming in at 6 inches flaccid, and roughly 7.4 inches erect, this definitely makes peter the second biggest on the list.

↻ width: he doesn’t really strike me as someone who’s gotta thick cock. i’d like to think it’s on the skinnier side, mostly because he’s very tall and lanky.

↻ color: peter is so pale, it’s literally just a pink stick.

extra:

↻ groomed: hmmm… a part of me wants to say yes. i think he’d groom it down probably for comfort. i can imagine that it’d get very itchy in those white orderly jumpsuits, and so, i feel like he’d groom it down in that sense. he just strikes me as someone who’s very calculated and precise with everything that they do, so having an itch down there would be annoying and he hates to be annoyed.

↻ curved: unfortunately, no :(

↻ veins: yes, plenty. they start to branch down from his pelvic region, all the way to his dick. they wrap around so prettily and when he gets hard, it looks kinda mean and angry!

↻ how he uses it: peter likes to fuck you from the back, with the upper half of your body smooshed down into a hard surface, and your head forced down flat with the palm of his hand. it’s the only position he enjoys that doesn’t involve intimacy. but most of all, he likes it down your throat. because in this position, you’re on your knees, with your head tilted up at him, and tears streaming down your eyes like ribbons.

it gets him so unbelievably hard because he’s the one with all of the control. you sit there and take him—all of him—down your throat because you like it. and he knows you like it too. he knows that you get a rush when he pushes it so far down that you can’t breathe, and he knows you like it when he forces all of his load down your mouth. so, that’s why this is his favorite position. because from up here? he’s a god, and you’re just some bitch that prays to his dick like it’s sunday service.

dmitri “got you walking side to side” antonov or, better known as, enzo

↻ length: if i speak…

ok, listen. i’ve heard some things about those russian men, i’ve seen some things…and i’d like to bet that enzo is one of them. there’s just something in the atmosphere down there, something in the air…something that i think we (the people) should investigate because why and what is causing this big dick phenomenon? anyway, enzo is 6.7 inches flaccid and 8 inches hard. i don’t make the rules, i listen to the voices. and right now they’re telling me to relay the message and i am.

↻ width: baybeee, let me tell you something. his is thick. like, really thick. you just better hope he has the patience to stretch you open first, because if not…well, good luck soldier.

↻ color: i could say pink—but i won’t. i am standing on this hill when i say his cock is tanned and his tip is brown or brown adjacent. it’s somewhere in the brown family okay, just…just trust me on this one. i know russia is cold as fuck but he ain’t that damn pale, so i am not budging with my answer.

extra:

↻ groomed: no. just full, unadulterated man bush over here. how we like it. the girls that get it, get. and the girls that don’t, don’t.

↻ curved: uhm, duh. he is a founding father of the captain hook club!

↻ veins: vein wonderland, just so many of ‘em.

↻ how he uses it: i don’t think it matters what position, you’re getting fucked and you’re getting fucked good. just know you’ll be directionally challenged by the end of it. suddenly, determining left from right, and up from down becomes a challenge tad too difficult.

argyle “let me smoke you out” [redacted] …because he wasn’t given a last name. them damn duffer brothers fucking up my list!

↻ length: i’d like to say his dick is as long as his gorgeous hair (which i’m very jealous of), but it isn’t. i’d like to sit here and tell you that the man who carried season four with jokes has a 12 incher, but i can’t (for i fear the masses will crucify me at the stake). but in all seriousness, argyle has the perfect cock. it’s not intimidatingly large like peter or enzo’s, but it’s not too small either.

argyle rests at a smooth 4.8 inches flaccid and a good 6 inches erect. and whatever he lacks in length—which isn’t much because 6 is perfect for some girlies—he makes up for in girth.

↻ width: i love me some stout men, and when i look at argyle, i just see a man with a fat cock and balls. big fat balls. big nuts. like i want the weight of his dick to be so powerful that it gives me a black eye…but, maybe that’s just me.

↻ color: he has such a pretty complexion, so i just know that it flows from a nice tanned color, into a pretty brown or mauve-y color at the tip.

extra:

↻ groomed: no, he doesn’t have time for that. he only has enough time in the world to roll his blunts and get high. everything else be damned. the male-bush agenda is going strong and we can’t stop now!

↻ curved: to the left, and he really knows how to use it. i know i said before that he didn’t have much time for anything other than rolling blunts, but i lied. he’s definitely got the time to learn how to make a woman cum.

↻ veins: just one that stretches from the side of his cock to the underside of his shaft…

↻ how he uses it: oh, god. i just know he likes a good ol’ mating press. he likes squishing you down into the bed, or the back of his van and getting all deep in your cunt. he says it’s because he’s ‘so high’ and that ‘he’s tired’ every time he flops down on your like that, but you know it’s because he loves seeing you folded like a pretzel beneath him. nothing beats the expression you wear when he hits that spot you like. the one that gets your toes curling, and your legs shaking, and leaves your head all dizzy. he could fuck you like that forever and it still would always feel like the first time.

jonathan “i have a degree in stalking” byers

↻ length: i don’t care for jonathan but i feel like he’s got something a little lethal down there…like not crazy big but he’s definitely working with something, so maybe that’s why nance ignored all the stalking. what if…what if i said he’s got like something close to a 7 incher? like 6.5-6.7? i don’t know… i don’t know but them creepy guys be having good dick. exhibit a: joe goldberg. it must be some sort of requirement…

↻ width: hmm, he leans more on the skinnier side so i don’t think he’d be thick.

↻ color: scarily pink, like raw meat but progressively reddens when aroused.

extra:

↻ groomed: jonathan doesn’t take that much pride in his appearance, and until nance, he probably didn’t do too much grooming. but now he keeps it fairly shaved down.

↻ curved: almost as straight as will, but in other words, yes. it’s got some curve too it but not enough to be a part of the captain hook committee, unfortunately.

↻ veins: two prominent ones that form a ‘y’ shape down his shaft

↻ how he uses it: the real question is how long can he use it? because i don’t think that boy’s got any self restraint. he probably finishes really quickly, but i kinda see him having a lot of stamina—but not in the way you think. i feel like he’d prefer having you ride him, because in this position, he gets to play with your tits and admire your body like the pathetic man he is, but as soon as he cums, his dick is ready to go again before he is. it’s just him lying there, totally overstimulated, and you riding him, milking him for all he’s worth. so, yeah, i’d say he’s not so much as using his own dick, but you using him.

#peter ballard x reader #peter ballard x reader smut #peter ballard smut #peter ballard x you #peter ballard x you smut #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard x y/n smut #dmitri antonov smut #dmitri antonov x reader smut #dmitri antonov x reader #argyle smut #jonathan byers smut #jonathan byers x reader smut #stranger things x reader smut #stranger things smut

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steddiemas · 7 months

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Hi Steddie friends and welcome to Steddiemas! A brand new winter and holiday-themed fan event for the month of December.

I, @steddieasitgoes (aka Dani aka wanderlustxprincess since Tumblr sucks and won't let me respond from a side blog!) am currently creating 31 themed prompts for everyone to take inspiration from for this event. I'm doing this a little differently than some other fanwork events, in that every day of the week has a different theme that prompts will then relate to.

Those themes will be:

Movie & Music Mondays -- Steddie can be watching, singing, listening, or talking about the song/movie in the prompt, or you can use it as an AU prompt!

Trope Tuesdays -- Each Tuesday will feature a different trope that you should incorporate into your creative work!

Winter Wednesdays - All prompts will be winter activity-themed!

Take Me There Thursdays -- Each Thursday will feature two locations to pick from. What Steve and Eddie do while there is up to you!

Festive Fridays - All prompts will be holiday activity-themed!

Sentence Starter Saturdays - I'll give you a sentence to use in or as inspiration for your creative work!

Smut Sundays - Help Steve and Eddie earn a spot at the top of the year's naughty list! Must be 18+ to participate and all characters must be 18+.

The prompts will be released in weekly batches starting in November so you can start working on your creations early. Posting will begin on December 1st and end on the 31st. But don't worry late works will be accepted!

Since this is a "steddiemas" celebration, steddie should be featured; however, I am open to works with other pairings/ships. Just make sure to tag accordingly! Feel free to post every day or pick and choose which days to participate in! There is absolutely no pressure!

And yes, I'm aware its barely October but I'm excited!

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studyblr-perhaps · 9 months

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26/08/23 || Saturday

Yes I am aware I am posting a day late, but I was extremely bummed out yesterday and didn't want to be on social media. Instagram decided to not show my reel which I put so much effort in to anyone and I was this close to impulsively delete my account (I didn't, thankfully).

Anyways today (Sunday) has been better and I am definitely feeling much better about myself (and that account lol, it lives one more day 😌).

How is your day going? I hope its good!

#studyblr #studying #studyspo #studyinspo #aesthetic #study aesthetic #academia #academia aesthetic #uni #physics #misa tries #misa's undergrad journey #women in stem #100

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srbachchan · 9 months

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DAY 5658

Jalsa, Mumbai Aug 14/15 , 2023 Mon/Tue 2:38 AM

My apologies for missing out in wishing Ef Kishore Bhatt, Big B Group on his birthday August 14, 2023 .. all good wishes and prayers from us all 🙏❤️

Birthday - EF Nitish Murthy .. Tuesday, 15 August .. with love and happiness galore .. from the Ef family ..🌹

Yes it is very late .. 3:12 AM .. and never too late for the Ef family and the BLOG .. never .. the love of the people and the audience is so riveting and pure it makes it most difficult to be able to control emotions ..

So yes saw GHOOMER back to back twice .. Sunday afternoon .. and then at night again .. and the verdict is beyond mention .. simply INCREDIBLE .. eyes have been in the aqua flow from the very first frame .. and when the progeny is involved , they flow copiously .. and each reaction has some wonder in their thoughts and words and deeds .. each notices something that is so endearing and appealing .. the emotions relate to yes the game of cricket and the tale of a girl and her ambition .. but it is really the feel of the depiction and its impress upon not just the game , but of the effect of family , of the Mother , of what middle India stands for in our lives ..

it is the simplicity of the way the narration occurs .. it is the deftness with which R Balki has knitted before us , in the simplest of manner , a most complex idea .. of losers and winners .. of what each one of us has been through ..

of that most powerful written spoken word :

एक loser क्या महसूस करता है, वो तो मुझे मालूम है ; मैं देखना चाहता हूँ की एक winner क्या, कैसे महसूस करता है !

I know what a loser feels , and experiences ; I want to know what a winner feels and experiences ..

sheer brilliance in the writing and in expression what each one of us have experienced in our lives .. each of us ..

each one of us have faced failure at some point or the other in our lives .. and we are aware and know how it feels .. but .. how does a winner feel when he succeeds .. that is the challenge we all face .. we all strive for .. we all struggle for .. and then when we find that door is shut .. we break it open and ENTER .. to achieve what we have wanted to all our lives ..

that is the learning .. the template of living ..

and when it is portrayed in a most creative subtle manner .. the respect and applaud is tremendous ..

WIN AND FEEL IT .. IT IS THE MOST DESIRED FEEL OF THE HUMAN .. YOU KEEP BANGING AT THE DOOR .. AND ONE DAY IT OPENS ..

Ram Dhari Singh 'Dinkar' the renowned iconic, legendary Hindi poet on a visit to our home in Allahabad signed my autograph book and wrote these precious words :

" success comes to those who dare and act " ..

I must have been around 9 or 10 yrs old .. but they, the words remain with me even now at 81 .. you need to dare and face all obstacles .. and you need to act on the process to achieve it .. overcome it ..

and each day is a learning ..

जीवन चलने का नहीं दौड़ने का नाम है ।

with love and the affection to all ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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transdunbar · 4 months

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seven sentence sunday

yes i am aware that its monday. no i do not care

tagged by @wolfboy88 @ksbbb and @rd-eternity !! thank you guys <3

this is from my AFTG au, something ive been planning for febuwhump, so it'll be out within the next month!!

“Welcome back to the land of the living, buddy,” someone taunted. Theo cracked open his eyes to see Donovan Donati towering over him, a sadistic smirk plastered onto his face. Memories came crashing back into Theo’s ringing head: the game against the Devonford exy team; the riot in the parking lot; watching Scott get hit in the head with a bottle moments before firm hands grabbed his shoulders and steered him away from the line of his teammates; being tied to the passenger seat while Donovan sat behind him, someone else at the wheel; and then nothing but pain. He also remembered Liam. He remembered how the dealer had turned to look at him moments before the riot broke out, how Theo found everything bared to him in those blue eyes. Theo thinks he might have thanked Liam, but he wasn’t sure what for. Maybe for giving Theo a chance at the life he wanted but could never have, for the kisses and everything that came after, for the security, for a place in the weird broken family the Cyclones had made: for everything. “Well, for however long you’ll be living, anyway,” Donovan added to his earlier statement, rudely bringing Theo’s thoughts crashing back to reality.

tagging @equallyloyalandlethal @thiamsxbitch and @outcastpack if yall havent done it already!

#i have NO IDEA if anyone else has done this au before but also. it refuses to leave my head so idc #thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #aftg au #tag games

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nobody7102 · 1 year

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The Thing About Sunday

Pairing: Preacher!Rhett x Tillerson!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Religious stuff, SMUT, 18+, fingering, thigh riding, choking, unprotected P in V

A/N: YALL! This... this was so just great to write. thank you to @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts and @auroralightsthesky for contributing to this and letting me bounce ideas off of, and yes I am aware its like 2 AM(at least in MN) I put my insomnia to good use.

NOTE/DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are of age (Rhett being late 20s/early 30s, Reader being mid/late 20s), if it isn’t clear in-story all actions/situations are consensual between the major of the characters if there is anything I missed in the warnings please let me know, but don’t be rude about it

Part 2

Main Master-List

———

Sunday, the day Rhett was always taught to respect. A day that he had devoted his life to, promising his momma he’d be better and proving it every Sunday as he gave sermons and led mass for Wabang. Sure he never intended on becoming a preacher but after one particularly bad bull ride, Cece brought him to Church with her while he recovered and he often found himself talking with the pastor about things he normally would just drink away or keep bottled up, soon enough after he made a full recovery no one was more surprised than Rhett when he started showing up to help set up before mass and sermons every Sunday, and staying after to help clean up.

So when Pastor Lawrence announced he was retiring and that he wanted Rhett to fill his position he was shocked to say the least, but he worked hard every day to live up to the standard Pastor Lawrence left, and some in the community would even say he surpassed Pastor Lawrence by miles. Something Cece and Royal were more than happy to hear about, always hearing throughout the week how great Rhett was becoming as a Preacher.

Now five years later, as he stands, a little older and a little greyer than he was before, standing in the middle of the floor, watching as everyone took their seats before his eyes flickered to the front row. Entranced by her.

Watching as she fiddled with her knee length skirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in it.

His eyes softened watching as the youngest Tillerson’s eyes finally met his with a smile. Looking back to the crowd he cleared his throat to get everyone's attention before he moved to stand behind the pulpit. “Hello everyone” he hummed “What a beautiful Sunday morning we’ve been given.” he watched as everyone nodded in agreement “Before we start our sermon today I would like to introduce everyone to someone who’s joining my within the Church” moving from the pulpit, Rhett walked over to Y/N, offering her his hand to stand with him. “I’m sure many of you know Miss Y/N Tillerson from around the town,” he smiled as Y/N gave a small wave to the crowd. “I’m very happy to say that Miss Tillerson will be helping us out with our youth program, teaching Sunday School after the services every Sunday, starting next week. So after the sermon today it would be greatly appreciated if y’all would help welcome her to the church” he gave her hand a squeeze before he nodded to her, letting Y/N know she could sit back down. As soon as she moved to sit down, Rhett moved back to the pulpit. Flipping thought his notes for the day to start the sermon.

The thing about Rhett was that he remembered what it was like being a kid and having to sit in church every Sunday, listening to the sermons being bored out of his mind. The one thing he made sure to do as soon as he had been appointed the new preacher, he never wanted anyone to be as bored as he had been. He always kept everyone so entranced in his sermons, never leaning too traditional for the younger crowd but never too modern for the older folks of Wabang. So when looking for volunteers for teaching Sunday school he knew Y/N would be a perfect teacher, having grown up keeping each other occupied as their families dragged them to church, not to mention she had just come back from college with her teaching degree.

He never knew why she’d chosen to be friends with him growing up. Behind Luke, she had been the ‘Golden Child’ of the Tillerson clan. Graduating top of her class in highschool, going off to college and somehow managed to stay utterly devoted to her faith. Something her mother instilled in her, out of all of her children Patricia had always been so critical of Y/N. When Cece once asked about it, in her own words Patricia had stated “If she can be better than me, she will be” words that she made sure were true.

Throughout the sermon, Rhett’s eyes drifted to Y/N, and he often found himself having to hide a slight smile at how focused and attentive she was to his speeches, he also took note of how her eyes flickered up and down his form as he walked around the front of the church as he spoke as well as how a small blush dusted her cheeks when she noticed him glancing her way.

As soon as his sermon had come to an end, everyone stood like they normally did and slowly gathered around Rhett, asking him questions, talking about how good his sermon was that day. It was as Sherif Joy asked about something that was troubling her that he noticed how Y/N was bent down talking with some of the kids that sat through the sermon, occasionally glancing up to talk with the parents of children who were talking to her. Smiling and nodding as her attention was split between the parents and children.

Finishing his talk with Sherif Joy, he quickly excused himself to walk over to Y/N. “Everyone having fun over here?” he hummed seeing how excited the kids were to talk with Y/N after listening to the children babble for a few minutes, their parents pulled them away to another part of the church, leaving Rhett and Y/N to themselves “How’s Miss Tillerson holding up?” he joked.

Shaking her head, she nudged him with her elbow “You told me not to call you Preacher” she chuckled “So I expect the same… at least with adults”

Nodding his head he chuckled “Fair enough, fair enough” his eyes trailed around the crowd before looking back to Y/N “No one’s given you any trouble so far?” she shook her head “That’s good… what’d your folk have to say?” He raised his brow.

Shrugging, Y/N wrapped her arms around her frame, “Ma was happy… Daddy didn’t seem to mind” she started “Billy couldn’t have been prouder, practically beaming with joy for me…” trailing off her eyes looked to the floor

“And…” he almost hesitated to ask “Luke and Trevor?”

A sigh left her lips “You know how they are… never really understood church… or faith”

Slowly nodding his head, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Well, ‘I am still far from being what I want to be, but with God's help I shall succeed’” he hummed.

“Van Gough,” she chuckled

Nodding Rhett continued “Luke and Trevor might not get it… but I remember being in their shoes… They have the same passion for faith, it’s just focused on another thing” he squeezed her shoulder “Trevors is on Bull riding, and Luke’s is on the ranch… they understand it, just in a different way” he watched as Y/N slowly smiled, placing her hand over Rhett’s

“Thank you” as he did in response was nodded before his name was called in another part of the church.

As the day wound down, Rhett found himself in his back office making last minute edits for the Wednesday night service and starting planning out his sermon for the next Sunday. Looking up from the words in front of him, he glanced at the widow before looking at the clock on the wall opposite to his desk.

6:00PM

Dark for how much time he still had in the day he thought. Shuffling his papers into a stack, he stood from the desk, cracking his back as he stood before making his way out to the main area of the church. Furrowing his brow hearing someone humming, sure the doors were always open and he left the main lights on but everyone had left after noon. He had watched as everyone left… So who had made their way into the church?

Rounding the corner his eyes widened seeing Y/N sitting in the front pew, papers spread out around her as she bit the end of a pen as she looked over one specific paper. “Miss-” he stopped himself watching as she looked up, a smile dawning on her face “Y/N… I didn’t realize you’d come back” as he made his way over, Y/N moved to get her piles of paper under control, thus giving Rhett room to sit next to her.

“I umm…” she started “I was trying to work on my lesson plans for the kids… for next week. I was trying to work on it at home but..” a flush came across her face “I couldn’t really focus” she admitted “So I came here”

Nodding Rhett smiled “Well I’m glad this place provides you with some peace…” he watched as she shifted in her seat, letting her eyes follow his knees as they knocked against her’s “So what’re your plans so far?” He waited for her to sort through her papers once more before handing him a sheet full of highlighted points. “Veggie tales huh?” he chuckled.

She chuckled with him “The library is loaning me the DVD’s… besides its a lesson without being-”

“Boring” he finished her sentence as they both laughed

“Exactly” she hummed, as Rhett handed her back the paper her eyes trailed over his form. How his hair was askew from running his hands though it in thought, to his black button up that was rid of his normal white collar and even unbutton allowing a small bit of his tattoo to peak out from below the fabric

She didn’t even realize she was biting her lip as her eyes raked over him till Rhett’s fingers cradled her chin, pulling her gaze to meet his as his thumb pulled her bottom lip from her teeth, brushing over the soft skin and slightly smudging the light pink lip balm she had put on earlier in the day.

“Something that interests you, Little Lamb?” He smirked, tilting his head to the side as her eyes widened, looking between his eyes and his quirked upwards grin before a small gulp and a sharp breath left her lips. With his head still tilted to the side Rhett slowly leaned forward, giving Y/N enough time to pull away, pausing right as his nose bumped against hers “You sure?” he’s eyes carrying so much yearning yet he knew how new this would be to her.

Being the ‘Golden Child’ of the Tillersons had its price. Following her mothers instructions of faith she also followed her fathers rules, no dating, which just went hand in hand with her mothers morals of faith. She even vented to Rhett one day in their teen years how she longed to just have just one kiss but she knew how her parents would say, not to mention what her faith would think of it. Rhett had never fully understood her devotion till he took over for Pastor Lawrence.

Placing her hand on his thigh, she leaned into him the rest of the way, closing her eyes as their lips melted together. One hand flying to frame her waist, pulling her closer. As the other moved to cradle her jaw as she moved her lips against his, he met her movements equally, letting her control the pace… the passion.

Letting her papers fall to the floor, she let her body press into his before he pulled her body to straddle him and her legs to frame his thigh and her flats falling off of her feet. Letting the floral fabric rise to her thighs a soft gasp left her lips as Rhett pulled her against the taut wool of his trousers. Pulling away from the kiss he rested his forehead against hers, nudging his nose against hers “Rhett” his name tumbled breathlessly from her mouth as he nipped at her bottom lip.

Huffing as his lips moved across her neck, stopping just below her ears “Have you ever….” catching his breath he closed his eyes, feeling her hands run across his chest “Have you ever done anything lik-” he felt her shake her head “What about touch- Have you ever touched yoursel-” feeling her shake her head again he emitted a low groan as he felt the wool of his trousers constrict more “Oh of course you haven’t” he exclaimed, almost as breathless as she was kissing along her neck again “Because you’re my perfect Little Lamb” he whispered as his hands fell to bunch the skirt up to her waist. Exposing the pink cotton pantied that hugged her ass, letting out a groan seeing the peak of pink from over her shoulder his hands moved to knead the pink cladded flesh as he pulled her against his thigh once more, letting her head fall into the crook of his neck as he repeated the motion. Her hands holding on his shoulders, fisting the black fabric.

“Oh Rhett” she whined “We- Ahh gosh…” gripping onto his shirt so tight, her knuckles were white as she tried to resist yet her body betrayed her, bucking against his grip everytime he pulled her across his thigh “We shouldn’t… the Lord wou-”

“Do you wanna stop Lamb?” he whispered into the crook of her neck, he felt her shake her head once more “We can stop if you want” he pulled away to look at her beat red face, eyes glazed over in a bliss “But you should know Little Lamb” he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear “It’s not a sin if you feel good” before placing a kiss against her lips once more “and it's not a sin to want to feel good either… the Lord won’t punish you for enjoying yourself” he whispered before she captured his lips again, rutting her throbbing core against the wool, not waiting for his hands to guide her.

Grinding against his thigh as the two let their lips mingle together for a few more minutes, Y/N pulled away, her hands playing with the hair at the base of Rhett's neck as she spoke “I trust you Rhett” she leaned forward to recapture his lips “I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone” she whispered “Please”

“Fuck..” he mumbled under his breath before biting his lip, letting his eyes scan over how her hair was a mess, the light pink of her lip balm smeared across her lips, and undoubtedly across his as well. Her cardigan was thrown from her shoulders and resting in the crook of her elbows as the straps of her tank top slid off her shoulders, allowing the pink of her matching bra to show itself over the hemline of the tanktop. Her skirt was bunched around her waist, the pink little bow that sat atop her paintes. A moan falling from his lips as he laid his eyes upon the wet patch forming on his pants. “Sweet Little Lamb…” he started bringing his eyes back up her form to meet hers, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose his hands grabbed the back of her thighs lifting her up, a squeal emitted from her as he flipped her around.

Resting her knees on the wood seat of the pew, pressing her front into the wooden back. Pushing her skirt up higher, his finger hooked the hemline of her panties, slowly pulling them down her legs she shivered.

Rhett had always had cold hands, getting his bad circulation from his mother. His hold fingers left goosebumps against her skin as he leaned to her ear and whispered “I’m gonna make such a mess of you” bringing his hand back up to her inner thigh, she jumped feeling the contrasting cold against the heat of her dripping core.

Gripping onto the wood she let out a high pitched whine feeling Rhett slowly circle her clit, her body lurching forward. “Ahhhh- Oh God!” her toes curled as he slipped his middle finger into her folds, pumping it in and out as he trailed kisses along her shoulder.

“Oh Sweet Lamb… You. Are. Absolutely. Soaked.” kissing between every punctuation “are you gonna be a good Little Lamb for me?” he smirked as she nodded with her head resting against the wood. “You gonna let me use this pretty little cunt?”

Adding another finger, she gasped at the feeling letting out a strangled “Yes”. He continued his assault, slowly working up his speed until he watched her legs start to shake. “Rhett- I- I ca- ooh” she started “Rhett I need- I nee-” the babble fell from her lips before letting out a high pitched whine at the loss of his fingers from her burning cunt. “No!” she cried her thighs still shaking,

“Tsk Tsk Tsk” Rhett chuckled moving falling behind her as he unbuckled his belt “Romans 8:25” the sound of his zipper filled the air followed by the rusting of fabric before he leaned next to her ear, one of his hands wrapping around her front to once again draw circles around her swollen clit as the other guided his weeping cock to tease her entrance with his tip "But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience” he whispered before pushing into her tight cunt.

A moan fell from Rhett’s lips before he threw his head back hearing the sound that fell from Y/N��s mouth. A sound he had yet to hear from her, a sound he quite possibly considered to be better than anything he could ever hear for the rest of his life.

Moving his free hand to pull her flush against his hip as he continued to circle her clit, his hips snapped against her’s. No longer caring for how acquainted with the stretch of his cock she was, only wanting to hear more of the heavenly sounds that he seemed to pry from her lips with every thrust of his hips.

Feeling her plush walls squeeze his cock with every pull he rested his head on her shoulder, still snapping his hips to hers before bringing his hand from her hip to slide under her shirt and past the think pink bra, feeling how her nipples hardened and goosebumps a littered her skin at the contact with his cold hand before he took the pebbled skin between his fingertips and punched.

Arching her back into him, forcing her ass against his hips, he panted into her ear at the feeling “Oh Sweet Lamb, the Lord made a special place in heaven for you” he kissed just below her ear.

Quickening his pace, his hand trailed up further, past the hem of her shirt before gripping her throat. Forcing her head up from the wooden back of the pew, bringing her gaze to meet the stone statue that stood tall towards the entrance and back of the pews “Look into his eyes my Little Lamb” resting he forehead against her cheek “Look and thank him for making such a special place in heaven for you… and this sweet little cunt” he growled, forcing a while from your lips before his squeezed slightly.

“Thank You” She moaned, letting her mouth fall open as the pews started to move under the force of Rhett’s thrust. Now adding the squeak of the wood against the floor to the sound of her and Rhetts moans and the squishing of her dripping core as it begged for more from his cock.

Pulling is hand from her clit, he brought his hand to his lips letting out a humm at the taste before holding it to Y/N’s lips “See how sweet you are… how sweet you were made” he smiled as she took his fingers into her mouth, drool falling from her lips as she licked over his fingers.

As soon as his fingers left her mouth they were back on her abused clit as babble feel from her lips “Jus-...just for you-” she let her head lull as much as she could with his hand still holding her neck up “all made-...just for you Preacher" she gasped

“Ohh shiiit!” his head fell backwards “that’s right Little Lamb” pulling his hands from her neck and clit, he gripped her hips hard. Pumping into her with a relentless pace her hips slamming into the pew with such force it tipped forward slightly before landing back down on the floor with every slam of his hips “Made just for me…. No other reason why this tight little cunt would wrap around my cock so perfectly”

No longer able to hold herself up, her body slumped forward onto the pew “Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck” she whinned as her legs started to shake once more. He could feel her walls pulsing around him, knowing that there was a knott forming within her that would soon snap.A chuckle caught in Rhett’s throat knowing how she never used such vulgar words, smiling at the use of the foregin word passing from her lips. Brining one hand from her hips he formed a ponytail in her hair before sharply pulling her upwards, causing her back to arch and another ‘fuck’ fell from her mouth. “Such dirty words for a Sweet Lamb” he hummed “My Sweet Little Lamb… Oh how far you’ve strayed from the shepherd” he smirked, moving his other hand to press down between her shoulder blades causing her back to arch further “Don’t worry Little Lamb…” he groaned, feeling her body shake as a guttural moan emitted from her. “We can fix that”

_______

A/N: Before anyone asks, yes there will be a part 2

#rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range x reader #lewis pullman outer range #outer range #outer range imagine #outer range fanfic #priest!rhett Abbott #preacher!rhett abbott #preist!Rhett Abbott x Reader #preacher!Rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #outer range smut

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pb-dot · 7 months

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Spooktober Sunday Special: The Clockwork Monster Part I

Good Spooky Season everybody. This fine October I'm doing a little something for my followers, mutuals, and anyone else who would like to get a load of the spooky proceedings. As you may be aware, I just finished a draft of my novel The Clockwork Boy, and particularly eager readers may also remember that I've toyed with making a horror AU for the story to try out some new ideas. Friends, today the first part of this AU sees the light of day, with the remaining parts being released on Sundays during October.

Some quick notes: I'm experimenting a bit with form here, so I apologize if some of this gets a bit wacky. As one might expect from an AU this isn't canon to The Clockwork Boy, but I may borrow world-building ideas that I come up with for this one later. Probably won't make 13 quite so... like he is in this one, but well, you never know.

Part 1 below the cut:

05.09.552 From the diary of Jake, Clockmaker Apprentice at Barker Automatics. Recovered after the incident.

Another dull gray day filled with moderately gainful employment. Mr Barker showed me how to disassemble a gear walker actuator today, and I got the chance to inspect some gears in the process. Not the most interesting thing, but considering how often the damn things break, at least there’s a living to be made in repair if I can stand the tedium of it.

After his brief bout of pedagogy, Barker set me to oversee the Apprentices. As usual, they’re a rude unruly lot, at least to me. I’m decently sure one or two are gunning for my position as Journeyman, but they’d have to kill me to get me away from this place before I deliver my Masterwork to certification. Some of them are likely to try, but I calm myself with the knowledge that there’d certainly be a fight, and one I'm likely to win at that.

As usual when I’m left herding Novices, it was dark by the time I could close up shop, and I hadn’t even gotten to work on my clockwork limb project. I was disappointed, but not enough to give my wards grief over it. Tomorrow will be a better day I'm sure. On my way home, a strange fright came over me, but I am sure it was merely the stress from dealing with the greenhorns.

06.09.552 From the diary of Jake, Clockmaker Apprentice at Barker Automatics. Recovered after the incident. Try as I might, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. I have no idea who it’d be. The novices wouldn’t mind catching me slipping up I’m sure, but I find it hard to imagine any of them have enough energy left after a long day of work to stalk me from the shadows. I know I didn’t back in the day.

To back up a step, the strange fright from last night subsided as I came home, yes, but it didn't go away. Instead, I found myself strangely paranoid as I left for work the following morning. In retrospect, I am reasonably certain I didn't stand out from the crowd, and fairly sure I wasn't followed by a tail of whispers and rumors through the crowd of commuting workers, but at the time it sure felt like it.

The feeling didn’t subside as I went to get some lunch from a corner cart, if anything it expanded. I no longer feared the people around me, which was a mercy I suppose, but the fear had, again, not disappeared. Someone out there was watching me, no, that's not quite it. Watching feels too passive, too neutral in tone. If anything, I'm sure I'm being Observed. Usually, there’s nothing that’ll tear my mind away from the taste of fresh-off-the-grill corncakes with spice paste, but the persistent cold weight of ill intent sure did it.

I’m not too proud to say I all but ran back to the workshop as soon as I had finished my meal. My phantom pursuer did not strike, but neither did its presence fade in any way as I hurried my way through the throngs of sweaty workshoppers and harried couriers. This, I surmised, could mean one of two things. Either, my pursuer is a subtle beast, able to keep pace with me through a crowd, or, more worryingly, he is so phantom as to be immaterial.

As much as this pains me, I’m going to have to go to the Enforcers with my concerns. They’ll probably listen to me because Mr. Baker’s boss is in The Spire, but odds are good they’ll just brutalize some street rat over it and call it a day. Still, getting some eyes and some truncheons on the situation must surely discourage my stalker, whoever they may be.

Tomorrow morning I’ll seek out the Enforcer Liaison Office and submit my concern. Mr. Barker won’t be thrilled about me calling in his clout to deal with this, but I figure he owes me for all the overtime I've been doing.

10.09.552? Recovered from Site A after the Incident. I have no idea what date it is. He keeps me somewhere underground. No daylight.

No idea if he'll notice me hiding this document under my blanket, but I have to risk it. I have to believe I’ll make it out of here, but even if I don’t, I have to make sure someone, anyone knows. He’s incredible. Terrible? Yes, but incredible.

My time draws short. He will be here soon. More tomorrow, if the fates will.

Tag List @ettawritesnstudies @mrbexwrites @teacupsandstarlight @anonymousfoz @wrenofthewords @sm-writes-chaos @dyrewrites @owlsandwich @olive-riggzey @athenswrites

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#writing #hearts in clockwork #the clockwork boy #Spooktober Special #Horror AU

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chaisshitposts · 7 months

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hi love if you don’t mind can you go in more detail about the time you entered the void and manifested your job? what was your mindset like before you entered? what do you think helped you enter? i’m in my 20s as well and really want to at least get my dream job first of all things and then i feel like i could finally relax you know? :( so your help would be greatly appreciated🥹

also i think your followers are really nice and mature so when i do tap in, i wouldn’t mind affirming (everyone who likes my success story and has good intentions will enter roe)

sure! let's see if I can remember as many details as possible— it was a couple days after I had my job interview, I had already been affirmin' my ass off that that job was mine and no one could take it from me— on this particular day, I think it was a Sunday. the lady who interviewed me said I would get my answer on the followin' Wednesday, and god that stressed me out, but I still kept affirmin'. on that day, I felt an extreme sense of drowsiness and so I had went to try and sleep in my bed. I already knew about SATs and whatever so I thought I could just affirm as I go to sleep, which I did. I was 'asleep' but I was still repeating my affirmations over and over, only focusin' on them while I was physically tossing and turning. Since I was tryna sleep, my eyes were already closed and it was silent in my room so ig I just didn't care about my surroundings. I do, however, remember that at some point I was affirmin' and was fully aware of my affirmations but then somethin' changed inside me and I was like 'Its done, nothing more for me to do, I don't wanna stress over this anymore. I can't sleep so, might as well just go back downstairs.' Then I opened my eyes and got up, feeling my stress about everything completely gone.

I went downstairs, right as my ma sat down after gettin' a package off the porch and that's when she gave me my new phone. (I still live with my family, yes, but only bc california is a dirt bag ofc) And I kid ya not, a couple minutes after I opened up the box with my new phone in it, I got a congratulations email from the lady who interviewed me, as well as the offer letter on my old phone. I freaked out afterwards bc I was like, ain't no way??? She said she'd send me somethin' on WEDNESDAY?? It's SUNDAY. I even told my ma and she was excited, then I was like-- I really manifested this??? After an entire year of being unemployed despite havin' my degree, and forcin' myself to work at Amazon and FedEx just to have a lil' change to call my own... I finally scored the job I WANT.

The best advice I could give you tbh is that ya should make robotic affirmin', the list method, and the ten minute method yer best friend. I did not have a good outlook on employment until I settled down and decided to change my thinkin' and god I was still stressed as fuck even when I affirmin'. I've never been good at talkin' to strangers, especially on the phone or on video call, but I affirmed right up until the interview started that the job would be mine no matter what and I was completely calm. Now, I am a step closer to my dream job. (I'm a substitute teacher currently workin' towards my credentials to be a full-time teacher in case ya were wonderin', the company I work for also provides grants to pay for the schooling needed to get credentialed which is such a big fuckin' bonus)

and yes, they definitely all are amazin' people, I never expected to have such a positive lil' community of followers but I am grateful to them, for sure.

bUt, okay, lemme stop ramblin' here's what I wantcha to do anonnie— I want ya to make yerself a list, title it whatever ya want to call the list, and fill that list with affirmations, askformations, statements, new beliefs, whatever ya want. could include anything ya want, details about the job ya want, how much money ya wanna make, how ya want the bosses to treat ya, what kinda work environment ya want, whatever, and then I want ya to include some self-concept affirmations, as well as some affirmations about the void (whatever feels natural for you), ah and some manifestation affirmations too. make it however long or short ya want, doesn't matter. once ya have that, read it over as many times as ya want and then throughout the day, whenever ya can, I want ya to robotically affirm that you've got everything on [name of yer list], say this whenever ya can, and especially when ya start thinkin' negative about whatever you desire or whenever ya feel like you're about spiral. affirm this through everything and anything, affirm if ya can't help but cry, affirm when yer angry, affirm when yer happy, just keep affirmin.'

as long as ya keep this up and correct yer thoughts, you'll have guaranteed movement in yer life, that's the law. even in false hope, whatever is repeated shall harden into fact.

#— chai's asks. !! ~#— anonnie. !! ~

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babydolly444 · 1 month

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we finally spoke again, today. i was making my way out of first period, and he was sort of just idly standing in the hallway by my classroom. it was a bit odd seeing him there. he wasn't talking to anyone. it's interesting, really, because he'd know where i am or what im doing, but then pretend to only just see me upon making eye contact. i came up to him and said that someone had told me he wasn't coming to see the play. he said something about how he has a wedding to go to this weekend, but he will try his best to come to sunday's show. we exchanged a few sentences about how i really wanted him to come, and how he had been really wanting to come. he then mentioned how he was reading the great gatsby, sort of in preparation. i asked if he finished the book, and he said he hadn't. we spoke a bit more, and then i ended the conversation to make my way to class.

i know that he comes to the library during fourth period, since he doesn't have a class then. he stays there for maybe ten minutes or so, usually. my fourth period is an independent study, so its not a big deal if i occasionally do something else during that time. i came to the library to help shelve books, and when i was finished we talked for a bit. i wished him a happy late birthday, since his birthday was over the weekend. he's 29 now. the age gap feels even bigger. he didn't ask me how i knew it was his birthday, but i think he was wondering about it.

him and i have some playful banter between us, at times. im not sure whether that is flirtation, or just playfulness. he's so aware of my youth, but i don't know what to make of it. i am no child, but at the same time, i don't want him to disregard the age difference between us. yes, the difference is there, but i want him to want me despite that.

i wanted to talk to him a bit more, but he left to go back to his classroom. another class came in to use the library, so it wasn't as quiet as it was before. i suppose that's why he left.

#male tc #teacher attachment #teacher crush community #tc community #tc confessions #tcc tumblr #tc crush #teacher crush

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consanguinitatum · 7 months

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David Tennant's Obscure Performances: His Involvement with Read Not Dead (pt 1) - Edward III

A lot of you are aware that for the better part of a decade I've done research on David's early Scottish theatre work (80s/90s). I've found a ton of info and am in slooooow development on a podcast aimed at sharing my discoveries. But not ALL my research lands squarely in those years. I've learned about plenty of DT's theatre projects which fall outside of the years my podcast covers. So it occurred to me - since I'm not planning to do a podcast about those years, why not share some interesting tidbits? Let's dive in! By January of 1999, David was living in London and beginning a two month run at the Almeida's Albery Theatre as Pavel in Vassa (a comic portrait of a powerful iron-willed matriarch who sees her family destroyed by the very values that she seeks to preserve.) So he was busy, yes? Not busy enough, apparently, because he agreed to join thirteen other actors to do a one-off staged reading of a play often attributed to Shakespeare as a co-writer - called Edward III.

David in rehearsal as Pavel in Vassa: Scenes From Family Life, 1999

Edward III was part of a series of performances the Education Department of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre had been doing since the early 1990s called Read Not Dead (heretofore referred to as RND). Their website has this to say about their mission: "Read Not Dead is a multi-decade project run by Shakespeare’s Globe, one in which we plan to perform every single ‘unknown’ play that has survived in print, from the accession of Queen Elizabeth I in 1558, to the closing of the theatres in 1642. Some plays from history deserve to be read, not dead." (By the by, RND is still active today! I encourage you to read more about their mission and the plays they've performed by going to the Read Not Dead website.) Performing in an RND play was a unique challenge for an actor. RND performances were staged readings, so actors didn't do the traditional rehearsals. Instead, they received scripts only a few days ahead of the performance. The project's website explains it like so: "The rules of the project have always been simple, experimental, and completely unique. Whilst approaching one individual play, the group does so within one single day. In the morning, the company meets for the first time and throughout the day they work with a Director and experiment with props and costume. Often music is also composed within the short time-frame, too. By the afternoon, the play is put up on its feet and presented as a script-in-hand performance to a live audience." Additionally, most RND plays were performed on Sundays (traditionally the only day off for most performing actors in the theatre circuit, this made the full day's preparation possible.) These challenges almost certainly appealed to David for a number of reasons: 1) it was a one-off performance with a tight schedule, 2) we all know how he feels about Shakespeare, and 3) the Globe! When an opportunity came for him to play a role in or around that great structure, certainly one imagines he sprung at the chance! So on 21 February 1999, David played the role of Edward, Prince of Wales (aka the Black Prince) at the Globe Theatre Education Centre/Inigo Jones Theatre. The performance was on a Sunday - that day, the group met at 10a for a run-through, and at 3p they went onstage. It was directed by Clive Brill (who - fun fact - has since worked with David on many things, including the radio dramas The Order of Release, The Island, Murder in Samarkand, The Purple Land, and the two part Afternoon Play series Stevenson in Love). Now for a treat. Want to see a page from the programme? Ask, and ye shall receive! (Thanks and credit to the Shakespeare's Globe Archive for the digitized programme, which you can see in further detail here.)

This performance was recorded, and I've actually listened to it! (sadly, the audio is only of the first two acts - for some reason, Acts 3 and 4 are missing.) I found it quite well done, especially considering the short amount of time the company of actors had to rehearse. You can listen to the recording of the performance and others from the series, as the recordings are archived in the Globe Archive and Library in London. Access to the archive is available by appointment only for professionals and academics affiliated with institutions of higher education.

Now.....some astute DT fans might be aware that while Edward III was the first time DT worked with the RND project, it wouldn't be his last. Very true! He was to go on and work with the project three more times. We'll explore those in more detail in future posts.

#DavidTennant #ObscureDavidTennantPerformances #ReadNotDead #DavidTennantEarlyTheatre #EdwardIII

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sn4pozu · 1 year

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how Richard Trager uses Instagram (yes, he would use Instagram):

this is Pre-Engine Rick because realistically post-engine Rick would have other things to worry about besides instagram

30 stories a day, from dawn till dawn again this man is addicted to the layout

doesn't use stickers because hes a grown man BUT HE DOES HAVE A BITMOJI THAT HE USES RELIGIOUSLY

its half office reels, half food pics, and a quarter just rants

overuses tags to hell, even randomly mid sentence , example: "#Amazing day today at @MurkoffOfficial ! this #Work ain't doin itself 📋💻👍🏻 #Workday #Monday #Officeday #ADayInMyLife #Job"

sometimes thinks that Murkoff should totally have a social media account, he knows its dumb but he cant help wanting more followers 😔

"Suns out guns out! #Sunday with my bud @JeremyBlaireOfficial" and its a picture of them in a golf cart holding champagne (not gay, just besties)

Not to sneak in my RickJer agenda but in my minds eye they signed eachothers golf clubs

tags the location if he could he would

username is something obnoxious like 'RichardTragerOfficial' like nobody know u lil bro 😭😭😭

buys likes and followers to feed his ego

4k followers thats like 85% bots

" @McDonaldsOffical Never fails 😂😂😂 #hangovermeal #NoRegrets" and its a fish fillet with the most inhuman bite you've ever seen taken out of it

WOULD POST A SWEATY GYM MAT AND TAG THE GYM AND IT'D HAVE A DUMB CAPTION LIKE "Workout Wednesdays! 🏋🏼‍♂️💪#Wednesday #Gym #Exercise #GymPic #Muscles" HE LACKS SELF AWARENESS DONT LAUGH

would 'ironically' comment "Hot! 🔥🔥🔥" on a mans gym pic and would slutshame a womans gym butt pic

"he hurts every woman hes ever met because his true soulmate is a man" - Sock-rates

he would unironically use hashtags in a sentence for fun, also urges Jer to be more active on Instagram

imagine the most white grown man, now add curly blonde hair, uhuh now give him a gay sweater, now make him homophobic & gay, yep .thats him officer

HAS gotten scammed on instagram, he threathened legal action and got his money back and deleted their account after a week tho

weekday streaks exist to him, no hes not a middle schooler hes actually 30

look at me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't make fun of feminism in the comments section of those LibzDunked accounts

his Close Friends stories are just aftermaths after nights out, its either him drunk posting or filming himself talking to the camera about his hangover

its just Jer and a few other friends but it has the same intimacy of homosexuality

theres one video where hes drunk and actually tripped and fell so comically its been 7 months and Jer still makes fun of him for it (laughs along but actually hates it like viscerally)

he has 3 phones, both iphones and one is a samsung flip (he wanted the hype), a work phone, home phone, and his normal phone, why does he need so much? why is he not robbed yet? we will never know....

replies to those awareness posts about war in the middle east and goes like "damn.. thats unfortunate 💔 hearts goes out to them 🙏 @Chriswalker89"

most menacing instagram white man, cyberbullies as a past time and has 5 alts just focused on Harrassment+ Stalking people

he'd doxx which hospital your mother is staying in with no shame

"If you don't take that back I'm injecting your mothers spine with brain eating parasites" and he means that for real

would post corny atheist memes & misinformation

induces paranoia as a hobby "Yes ma'am i am a licensed doctor vaccines Do cause autism" as a treat

he fucks around too much one day his main gets suspended and he calls Instagram customer services

if you wouldn't think he'd try to hook up with an instagram influencer you are a liar

weekly self-help book recommendations that he doesn't read and actually just gets payed 7$ per link

im not saying he would make an alt to just hype up his own photos but he would.....do that.....

also gets blackmailed his own dick pic but whatever that was in the past

on a side note Jeremy does have a year old instagram account that only has 2 pictures (both just bar pics of him posing with a glass of wine like an idiot) and his entire Tagged section is just RICHARD TAGGING HIM IN ANYTHING

#richard trager #outlast #outlast fandom #outlast whistleblower #jeremy blaire #they are homophobic and gay #the straightest gay people

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