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narmadanchal · 3 months

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NHAI Recruitment 2024 : राष्ट्रीय राजमार्ग प्राधिकरण विभाग में निकली बंपर पदों पर बंपर भर्ती

भारतीय राष्ट्रीय राजमार्ग प्राधिकरण विभाग भर्ती 2024 (NHAI Recruitment 2024) NHAI Recruitment 2024 : भारतीय राष्ट्रीय राजमार्ग प्राधिकरण विभाग (NATIONAL HIGHWAYS AUTHORITY OF INDIA) ने डिप्टी मैनेजर (Deputy Manager Technical) पद की पूर्ति के लिए 60 पदों पर भर्ती निकाली हैं। इक्छुक उम्मीदवार दिनांक 16/01/2024 से 15/02/2024 तक नीचे दी गई लिंक के माध्‍यम से ऑॅॅनलाइन आवदेन कर सकते हैं। इस भर्ती से…

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#Deputy Manager #National Highway Bharti #National Highways Authority of India Vacancy 2024 #NHAI Deputy Manager Recruitment 2023 #NHAI Recruitment 2024 #भारतीय राष्ट्रीय राजमार्ग प्राधिकरण विभाग भर्ती 2023

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vsonker · 1 year

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RANJIT BUILDCON LIMITED WALK-IN interviews

RANJIT BUILDCON LIMITED RBL Building Infrastructure For for Ahmedabad Metro Phase-II (PKG-C2) Project and Surat Metro Projects. We are organizing WALK-IN interviews for working professionals in respective departments of construction of elevated Viaduct, Stations, Precast Works, Launching, HR/Administration, Billing & Planning, Safety, Survey, Store, E&M, Interface & QA/QC, etc. for Ahmedabad…

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#ahmedabadjobs #peb #highwayconstruction #/Diploma-civil/mechanical #deputy manager #Electrical

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learning-k0rean · 2 years

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대리

[dae·ri]

(noun) deputy, deputy manager, assistant manager · representative, susbtitute

#대리 #daeri #deputy #deputy manager #assistant manager #representative #substitute #theme: nouns #theme: work #theme: jobs #代理

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a-finnish-janitor · 3 months

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Thanks to Todd Boyce's performance as Thornton, I now wish to examine him under a microscope like a bug. Also examining my own brain under the same microscope as to why his delivery of "just get it fucking done" has stuck in there like it has.

#alan wake 2 #alan wake 2 spoilers #deputy thornton #deputy mulligan #saga anderson #my posts #i just find it interesting how they managed to expand on these two joke characters from the first game #although i do think its fitting the direction they went with their characterization #but yes todd boyce did a very nice job here though

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adelaidedrubman · 3 months

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What if the strap could prematurely ejaculate? (Or, Jestiny gets knocked down a peg.) read on ao3.

notes: if i ever accidentally posted something good enough to trick you into following this account, i truly apologize. anyways here’s part two of the john/jestiny failstrap series. set hl&s adjacent and spiritual sequel to mine’s bigger. also new year’s eve themed, i meant to get it posted then but ironically didn’t finish in time. wordcount: 3.8k warnings: explicit sexual content, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation. (neg ’em and peg ’em, the jestiny rook method.) i feel like secondhand embarrassment and cringe dialogue is something of an implicit blanket warning for all my stuff, but. i feel the need to explicitly flag it in this one. that should tell you something. (please also see ao3 end notes or post tags for disclaimers.)

As with all holidays, Jestiny would ideally prefer to spend her New Year’s Eve outdoors.

She would gladly take her midnight kisses whilst guzzling craft beer and watching fish leap from the water over sipping champagne and watching pixelated footage of a ball dropping — if only the temperatures of December bleeding into January in Montana would agree with her preferences.

And sure, a sharp chisel and thick jacket could guarantee she would still be taking home her share of trout from a frozen solid pond. A good set of crampons strapped to her favorite hiking boots was all she needed to scale the highest mountain peaks, even covered in ice. A durable tent and well-insulated sleeping bag meant she could still feel wind-nipped cheeks warmed by the flames of a real campfire no matter the season, instead of settling for the store-bought logs currently crackling in the hearth behind her.

But even a rugged outdoorswoman the likes of Jestiny had to admit the blistering, unforgiving cold of Big Sky Country winter required some activities be strictly indoor-only until the first wildflowers of spring poked up from the hard, frozen earth.

And even with all the proper equipment packed, when it came to the activities that required removing clothing…

“God, I’ve needed this so fucking bad,” John whined against her jaw, pulling her along by the arm as his other hand impatiently finished her work of centering her strap-on properly in its harness. “I want you to fuck me all night long, right into the New Year. I want you to fuck me in every room of this house, until I can’t look anywhere without thinking of you.”

What Jessie didn’t have to admit — at least not out loud — was that the spacious yet cozy faux rustic interior of Seed Ranch, with its pervasive scent of leather, pine, and woodsmoke wafting from the fireplace; the vista of sprawling snow covered mountains offered up by its grand far-stretching windows; the lurking presence of hoards of taxidermy animals around every corner, made it the best substitute she could imagine for the thrill of fucking outdoors.

Yes, it was all blatantly, dreadfully fake — but fake was better than nothing.

“I want you to take me right here on my dining room table,” John continued to lustfully monologue to himself as his thighs hit the edge of the table on his path backward with Jessie in tow, turning from their embrace just long enough to sweep an arm along its length and knock all the stray clutter atop it to the floor. “Don’t hold back. Be rough enough to break it. Just give it to me and don’t stop.” He hopped atop the table to sit, then wrapped legs around Jestiny’s waist to pull her into place. “Then I want you to lay me down in front of the fireplace. Hold me close and take your time with me, give it to me slow until I’m fucking begging. Then drag me upstairs and bend me over the railing. Pound me until I can’t stand, until I cry. Then I want you to carry me into the model plane room and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she shushed as she pushed him back to his elbows, popping the top off of the bottle of lube clenched in her fist. “I’ll fuck you on every tacky ass piece of furniture in this ugly fucking house.” She forced an extra grumble of irritation to hide the tremor of desire threatening to slip into her words from the sight of him laid back for her with legs spread, brow slick with sweat and the dew of melting snowflakes still clinging to his eyelashes. “I assume you want me to lube it up first, though…”

“Let me,” he cooed, grabbing the bottle from her just as it had begun to drip onto sleek silicone. “I want to do it…”

She shrugged in disinterested agreement, placing her hands behind her head and jutting her hips forward as he poured along the length, palm cradling its underside and sliding along to catch the excess.

“Fuck,” he cursed, biting down on his lip as he began to pump his hand faster along the attachment. “Already so fucking hard for me.”

She crinkled her nose and cocked her head to the side. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she questioned. “It’s a fucking dildo, John — it’s always hard.”

“It’s — It’s a turn of phrase,” he huffed, tightening his grip and jerking towards him so that she near-stumbled into him. “Are you not familiar with the concept of dirty talk? Not everything has to be so damn literal. Use some imagina —”

“And why the hell are you jerking it off?” she demanded, thrusting a hand against his collarbone. “You know I can’t feel that, right?”

“Well, I’ll try to be more realistic, then,” he snapped as he leaned forward and shoved a hand between her legs.

Fingers spring-loaded with lingering fury moved to roughly pull her harness to the side, barely stilling or softening their touch before sliding inside her. His other hand remained stubbornly wrapped around silicone to pump it at a now comically harsh pace, as if to prove just how aware he was there was no delicate flesh and blood to be concerned with suffering beneath his vice grip — beginning the spectacle with a rough shove forward of its base to press against her with a pressure that did incidentally send a rewarding flicker of pleasure through hungry nerve endings.

“Fuck,” he ground out in repetitive correction, his tone wilting midway from a sarcastic hiss to a reverent whimper as he curled his fingers. “Already so fucking wet for me.”

Well, it wasn’t her fault he looked so good flushed and panting, even through the ridiculous theatrics.

“Like you got room to fuckin’ talk,” she scoffed as she reached to quickly coat her fingers with lube, sliding inside him and finding right where they needed to be with a practiced ease that made her cheeks warm with satisfied pride at her own expertise. Her thumb traced a line up his cock to find and leisurely smear the precum dewing at his tip. “Fuckin’ dripping the second I get my fingers in you.”

The surrender in his next whimper was complete, paired with a bucking of his hips to beg for more as he mirrored her steady pumping in the pace of his own fingers, thumb tucking itself beneath her harness to find and stroke her clit properly — all while still uselessly jerking off the dildo resting atop it, of course.

Well. Maybe it was useless, but she had to admit — privately — his hands did look nice doing that.

Even if the curve of his spine restyled itself into a distinctly unnatural, exaggerated arch as he regrettably regained the faculty for words. “God, yes, do you — ah, do you like how it feels inside me?”

Another stupid question. Reaching past the contrived, polished exterior to find the depths at which he was all warm silk fluttering to the touch? Delving inside him to feel the promise of all the power to reduce him to a stuttering, pleading mess pulse beneath a single fingertip?

How could she not be positively intoxicated by it? How could the rush of adrenaline it stirred be contained to anything less than electricity prickling along every inch of skin until the air itself felt charged with the intensity of her desire?

“It feels like an asshole, John,” she deadpanned, dragging her finger to tease shallowly. “Felt one, you’ve pretty much felt them all — and until science finds a way to implant a g-spot in the human finger, I’ll be getting just as little out of it every time.”

She gave a swift upward thrust for one last prod of his prostate in punctuation before she slipped fingers out entirely in the same fluid motion of her shoulders shrugging. “I’m more interested in finally getting to fuck you so good you can’t even talk to ask dumbass questions like that.”

She used the hand sticky with lube to smear a last glob onto the head of her strap as the other cradled his face, smoothing a thumb over his pouting lip as she added, “Just as soon as you ask nice.”

His pout deepened. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb now, baby. You know the drill.” She pushed him to lay with back flat on the table. “Beg me for it.”

“No,” he said testily, lifting his chin to give her a look of pure defiance. “You beg me.”

Her breath caught, for a moment — as if his words sank to snag in her chest before her mind even processed them, lunging back up as sharp barks of laughter the moment it did.

“Alright,” she sighed, breathless, as she dropped her head to rest against his collarbone and reached down to line up her attachment. “That was funny enough I’ll let you get by without the begging, this time.”

Her hips barely canted a single centimeter forward before they were stopped by a rough fist grabbing at the base of her dildo to hold her in place.

“It wasn’t a joke,” John hissed, eyes icing cold with determination, like a pond freezing over. “You’re going to beg to fuck me, or you won’t fuck me at all.”

She allowed her confused blinks to pick up pace into a sarcastic batting of her eyelashes paired with a sweet, dimple framed smile. “John, darling. My most cherished love. Light of my life, fire of my silicone sporting loins. Could you, kindly —” she scrunched her face into a scowl, “tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about?”

“You’ve done nothing all night but mock and belittle me, and act as if you’re somehow begrudgingly doing me a favor,” he snapped. “Now you’re going to admit you want it as badly as I do,” he said, allowing his tone to melt and soften as he circled a finger around delicate, rosy skin. “If you want this, you have to beg for it.”

Oh, he was serious.

Heat flared in the pit of her stomach at how serious he was.

All the better. She loved a challenge.

“Now is not the fucking time to be a brat, John,” she growled, threading fingers in his hair and tugging in the way that pulled a needy moan to the surface to tremble in his adam’s apple. “Now is the time to be a good boy and spread your legs.”

“Oh, and I will,” he moaned, craning his neck so the pull of his hair was tautened — a dare, a meet and raise of a bet. “I’ll be so good for you, as soon as I hear that magic word.”

This time, the hand around her strap stayed still as he reached down to wrap one around his own cock.

“Say ‘please’ for me, Jessie,” John begged with wide eyes as he began to stroke himself. “I’m already so close — don’t make me cum from touching myself alone. I want you to fuck it from me. I need your strap.”

That bastard. But two could play that game.

“Are you begging me to beg you?” she scoffed as she began rolling her hips in steady rhythm, the tip of her strap just barely bumping against him as she fucked the grip of his hand in a promise of what she could do. “Why would I beg for something I won’t even feel?”

“Because you want to take me, don’t you, Jessie? Don’t you want this ass to be yours?” Fuck, he did not play fair — spreading his legs wider and pushing forward to rub the head against slickened, puckered skin, make it look so easy to slide home and fuck the attitude out of him. The sight alone made the friction of grinding against a held still strap-on swell to an unexpected thrum of ecstasy trickling through her veins. “God, I want it. I want to feel the way you move inside me. I want to belong to you, every part of me. I want to cum for you, only for my Jessie.”

Christ, when did the cheesy, unnatural porn lines start working on her?

“Must not want it t-too bad,” she grunted with a particularly harsh snap of her hips. The electricity in the air had heavied, absolutely saturated it. It fizzled with that strange feeling of being up high during a thunderstorm, everything so strongly charged that hair stood on end. “Since you won’t just let me —”

“Oh, I will, Jessie,” he panted, training his eyes on her impotent thrusts as he stroked himself faster. “I’ll let you do anything you want, as soon as you’re ready to —”

“Just —” She glared, thrust harder as if she could break right through his grip and end the standoff, only managing to increase pressure. “Move your fucking hand, and I’ll —”

“You’ll what?” he teased, squeezing the thighs wrapped around her waist. “Please tell me, won’t you? At least talk me off the way I like, since you’re not going to —”

“You’re not going to get off at all, until I —” Fuck, how was this happening? How could she feel every fiber of authority she possessed suddenly unraveling to slip from her fingers? “Say you’re fucking allowed —”

“I’m so close,” he gasped, tossing his head back and arching towards her — the tip of her strap just barely disappearing as he did. “But feel so empty. Oh, Jessie, won’t you —”

“Can you just —” Her cheeks were scalding as she fumbled to grab his hips and grumbled, “For the — the fucking love of god, could you please just —”

She found herself falling forward before she’d even realized the damned word had fallen from her lips, his hand pulling away the second it was spoken and his legs flexing to pull her in, sliding inside him as her knees smacked against the table.

And every volt of electricity hanging overhead came suddenly crashing down with her as she buried to the hilt as the coaxing of his eager rocking hips — as if lightning finally crackled through the air to ripple down her spine and spread through her body. Spread so forcefully she could taste it in her mouth, feel it tingle along her tongue and shoot down her jaw as the current seemed to hone on the place the base of the strap pressed just right against her clit — suddenly overloading from the sensation, short-circuiting into blissful oblivion.

And it felt as if she really had been struck by lightning — the way her flesh crawled with searing heat, the way her insides turned and convulsed, the way every muscle twitched and trembled in pure surrender to its force.

“Did you, um —” he shifted beneath her, pausing and clearing his throat as if for once in his life he realized what a ridiculous thing he was about to say and managed to think twice before saying it, “did you finish?”

“Did I —” she coughed weakly against his collarbone, wishing it had come out closer to a scoff than it did. “I’m genuinely fuckin’ curious — do you even bother to try to make the shit that comes out of your mouth make sense? Or do you just start flapping your jaws and see what happens?”

She did not wait for an answer before summoning her remaining wisps of strength to wind her hips back, forcing wobbly legs pleading to collapse beneath her to instead power a proper thrust forward.

She yelped, a jolt of pain shooting up through sensitive, overstimulated nerves as the base of the strap pressed against her clit at the full extension of her stroke.

John craned his neck, eyes scanning far too knowingly along the flush of pink sprawling along her cheeks and chest. “We can stop, if it’s —”

“I’m fuckin’ fine!” she barked. “I just —” She coughed, reaching down to slip a thumb beneath rubber ring and wedge under the dildo to put space between its base and her sore clit. “Gotta adjust a bit — you put this thing in at the wrong fuckin’ angle, fucked everything up.” She wriggled her hips back with a final grumble of, “Why you should never trust a man to do a woman’s job.”

She began rocking forward with hand still in place to lighten pressure against nerves pleading for rest — she could do this, she just needed to fake it through a few minutes of recovery period. She just needed to —

“Shit!” she cursed, jittery thumb pressing too hard against the base to push it free from the ring with a taunting pop, staying lodged stubbornly inside her lover as she reeled back. She lurched forward, hurrying to retake her place, looking down to gauge position and hopefully reattach herself before he noticed. “Goddamn…”

“Seriously, are you alright?” John questioned as he pushed himself up to his elbows. “Would you like ten minutes and a glass of orange —”

He was interrupted by a thud as he rose to sit fully upright and meet her face to face, Jestiny’s eyes barely catching to follow the shiny black blur that shot from between his legs to land heavy at her feet.

“Fuck.”

Her clumsy rush (since when was she clumsy? first saying ‘please’ and now this?) to turn and reach for the fallen dildo (was her sleight of hand good enough to reattach it without him noticing? what skills did she still have?) resulted in her kicking it with the heft of her combat boot (was it not a good idea to wear them during sex? who even was she?) before she’d even managed to bend down.

She whipped around, finding hardwood bare save for a slight glistening streak. When she lifted her head to follow the snail trail of lube, she found the strap-on had rolled itself across the greater length of floor — losing little momentum as wood broke into granite.

The slight rise of the granite platform barely impeded it at all, in fact, as it rolled right past the wrought-iron guard that had been haphazardly left ajar by Jestiny as she built the fire, tenderly welcomed into the roaring inferno of the fireplace.

The dead lump of a scream in her throat seemed to creep down to spread its decay, making her insides shrivel into brittle rot. As the stench of burning plastic filled the air, her eyes began to water from the sting of chemical smoke. She wondered if she might actually cry for the first time in her adult life.

“Wha — ! Aah,” A confused, devastated noise caught in the back of Jestiny’s throat, withering there to die at the first crackle of silicone as her prized strap-on went up in flames before her eyes.

The world swirled around her, buffeting at her senses like the cruelest of snowstorms.

Past the whistle and crackle of flame devouring silicone and the whoosh of her own pulse in her ears, Jestiny heard the muffled garble of a television set she hadn’t realized was on blare suddenly loud from the recesses of the ranch, cheers of ‘Happy New Year!‘ over discordant symphony of paper horns blown in celebration conjuring images of ceremonial ball reaching the denouement of its annual journey to the base of its pole into her mind unbidden.

On cue, somewhere in the background, a grandfather clock solemnly chimed to announce the turn of the hour.

And there stood teary-eyed, gaping mouthed Jestiny — some bizarre sex toy Cinderella whose impressive phallus turned back into a puddle of cheap plastic polymer at the stroke of midnight.

“Well,” John’s bemused hum pierced through the cacophony rattling around inside Jessie’s brain as he peered past her to the spectacle of silicone bubbling down to black ooze in his fireplace. “I guess it isn’t always hard.”

“Fuck!” Her shout crumpled back into a weak whimper as plain splintered through her knuckles before she even realized she’d swung to strike the table.

She kept fist loosely clenched and eyes glued to the grain of the table as John turned back towards her.

She caught in her periphery the falling of his sly smile. His brow pinched inward as he looked back and forth between Jessie’s flushed, scrunched face and the empty rubber ring at the front of her crotch, his eyes softening with the most genuine look of sympathy she thought she’d ever seen him wear, a level of earnest compassion she would have thought him incapable of even faking properly.

The kind of condescending pity that made her stomach curdle, made her blood boil hot as a melting strap-on. That she would normally lash out to reject, were she not already so thoroughly defeated and stripped of pride.

“It’s alright,” John whispered softly, reaching over to give a few comforting pats to Jessie’s curled fist before bringing his hand up to cup her jaw and lift her chin, guiding her to look into gentle blue eyes. “It happens to everyone, sometimes.”

“That —” she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in gesture to the strap-on cremation still blazing strong behind her, drawing in a ragged breath, “has literally never happened to anyone before.”

“Well, it was... innovative,” John innovated the world’s first performatively horny purr that doubled as bland diplomacy to reply in, throwing his arms around her neck in embrace.

“We —” Her voice sounded so uncharacteristically small to her own ears as she stumbled over her words. “We can do other stuff. I can still finish you —”

“That’s alright. It was enough just to feel close to you,” John shushed, nuzzling against her neck. “All I want now is for you to carry me to the fireside and hold me.”

God, it was such obvious, manipulative fawning; such a poorly disguised consolation prize. She should storm out in offense.

In no position to refuse consolation prizes, Jessie slid an arm beneath the bend of his knees, wrapping the other around his middle. She gave a slight grunt as she hoisted his weight, at this point truly just grateful she managed not to drop him on the short walk over to the bearskin rug she lowered him to sprawl atop.

“You —” The impulse to counter with a comment that the firelight made him look much older from the shadows cast into the creases of his face extinguished itself as quickly as it sparked. “You would look even prettier by the light of a real campfire,” she muttered as she fell limp, allowing John to tangle their limbs as he saw fit. “That’s what we should do next New Year’s Eve. I hate being cooped up inside.”

“You always look so beautiful, bathed in firelight,” John sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“And do you envision our rugged adventures would begin with a first-class flight to the southern hemisphere?” he asked with a soft laugh, a hand smoothing along her sides. “I don’t have your outdoorsy expertise, of course, but I’d say it’s hardly pleasant camping weather around here.”

“It’s not so bad, actually,” she sighed pleasantly. “Pitching a tent in the dead of winter,” she continued, absentmindedly threading fingers through his hair. “So long as you —”

She coughed, clearing her throat and hiding her face and its burning cheeks against his chest as she finished the statement. “So long as you have the right equipment.”

She definitely should have just gone fishing.

#nsft #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #oc: deputy jestiny ellen #writies and wordies #hey at least i did manage to post it before january ended. still kinda the new year #i think maybe. they are good for each other #plot twist: SHE gets brat tamed. mostly by her own hubris but still. john dom moments they said i couldn’t do it.#also: jenna would reprimand me if i did not mention pure silicone will not melt like that.#assume jestiny is wearing a cheap blend regardless of how she refers to it #i also took some liberties with ranchsion redesign for this #in the actual game the platform of the hearth is raised and the guard does not have doors so this could not have happened #these are the only unrealistic parts of the fic.

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lulu2992 · 7 months

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Before things got better, they momentarily got worse…

(Although more violent things happen or have happened in Far Cry 5, I felt this needed a Mature Community Label, just to be safe)

Chronologically, this is the first time my Deputy Taylor’s story (you know, the one I’ll never fully write) really diverges from canon. This is also the least pleasant thing that happened between her and the Baptist.

Context and explanation under the cut:

While John is busy taking Hudson back to her “room”, Taylor manages to grab a knife in his toolbox (with her teeth) and to cut the ropes around her wrists. She considers leaving the Confession room to go look for her colleague, as we do in the game, but she quickly realizes that not only has she no idea where Hudson is, but that trying to find her way through an unknown, presumably huge bunker filled with cultists also isn’t the best idea. Instead, since the chair is still intact in this scenario, she decides to sit down, hold the ropes around her wrists to make it look like she’s still tied up, and wait for John to arrive so she can ask him where Hudson is… and maybe tie him up and steal his key, while she’s at it.

When he comes back, he seems relieved that she’s still here, and he politely (but not without a hint of irony) thanks her for her patience. She tenses when his eyes linger on the ropes for a few seconds, but he then simply smiles at her and asks if she’s ready to Confess her sins. She shrugs and replies that she doesn’t really have a choice.

“Very well,” he says. “But before we begin…”

He comes closer and leans over her, placing his hands on the ropes around her wrists.

“…did you really think that I wouldn’t notice?”

At this point, he’s not smiling anymore. Feeling suddenly cornered and in danger, Taylor pushes him over using her feet and a fight ensues, during which they mostly try to subdue (and not kill) each other. He’s a more powerful opponent than she expected him to be, partly because he’s absolutely furious that she “betrayed” him, and anger makes him stronger. At one point, he even manages to overpower her and, in pure rage, puts his hands around her neck.

A few seconds later, the Deputy’s survival instinct will cause her to deal a powerful blow to the Baptist’s left cheek, effectively knocking him out.

Taylor was wearing a t-shirt when she woke up in the bunker, but it was ripped open by John, as it is in the game, and she lost what was left of it in the fight. She even briefly used it as a “weapon” to try to make him lose his balance. That said, I want to stress that this scene isn’t supposed to look sexy, and they were too busy fighting to really pay attention to that anyway. John also lost his glasses that day, as you can see on the right of the picture.

I don’t know if you noticed the bruises on Taylor’s neck, on her knuckles, and on John’s cheek here, but if you did, that explains them.

Later in the story, when their Wrath has considerably subsided and their relationship has positively evolved, they will get to talk about this incident again so they can move forward together. Acknowledging your past helps you build a better future.

#I don’t want to overlook the ugly parts of their story #and I think they shouldn’t either #that’s how you grow #‘enemies to lovers’ means they were enemies after all #taylor rook #my deputy #the deputy #john seed #john seed x deputy #well not here obviously but it’s still part of their story #my art #fan art #traditional art #digital coloring #far cry 5 #the background is an edited screenshot #two edited screenshots actually #one from new dawn and the other from the arcade editor #I rebuilt part of the confession room for this #story: 'that fic I’ll never write'#drawn in january 2023 #this is the antepenultimate ‘old’ drawing!#will I manage to post them all before inktober?#I still like the lighting #but it’s too bad we can’t really see john’s outfit because I spent time on it #I struggled with his shoe and it’s barely visible :’)

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cornleypolytechnicgoeswrong · 3 months

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Hello!!!! Long time no see, I hope you've all had an amazing holidays/new year period. I apologise for not being active, I assure you I still love mischief with my whole heart, but turns out doing a degree in the arts takes a lot of time and effort!! (Including working on a small version of a play inspired by Peter Pan goes wrong!!)

Anyway, I was just wondering if anyone has the program from the current UK tour and if they do could they please send me a photo of the technical team working on it, I'm trying to find out who their DSM is for something in my degree!

I would be so so grateful if anyone has this and could send it to me!!

Also if anyone has sent me any messages recently that I haven't replied to I'm so so so sorry!!! Please don't take it personally, I simply have no room left in my head right now hehe.

Sincerely,

Technical Theatre Degree student seeking Peter Pan Goes Wrong 2024 UK tour DSM <3

#peter pan goes wrong #mischief theatre #deputy stage manager #technical theatre #mischief comedy #the goes wrong show #theatre

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inafieldofdaisies · 7 months

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18. bear hugs

For Mary May and Cal (with Zorro maybe?) <3

Prompt from this post.

Mary May followed what could barely be called a path snaking through the woods, her eyes periodically darting down to the crudely drawn map Calahan had left for her. "I will be waiting, Angel." was scribbled next to an X marking what he deemed his favorite fishing spot that as far she could tell wasn't any of the ones the locals frequented. Multiple times she questioned her decision to come at all, trying to convince herself to turn around and trek back to her truck before she would inevitably lose daylight and end up completely lost. "This is dumb. Foolish as hell.", she mumbled out loud, her frown deepening as she navigated the rough terrain, "And Casey from all people is manning the bar. It would be a miracle if it's still standing when I return." Yet no matter how many times she reminded herself John's men could choose that exact moment to make another move, a part of her that always took over against her better judgment anytime Hartley was around, pulled her forward like a niddle of a compass, like she could feel him near and was drawn to find him at any cost. Compass- another thing she wished she had taken with her along with a goddamned flashlight. For a second she contemplated calling out for Calahan, sensing she must be getting closer to the place he was supposed to be waiting for her at, then she decided against the idea, worrying about drawing the attention of any Peggies that knowing her luck, could be lurking in the woods. "Should have brought my shotgun. Fucking stupid… leaving it in my truck, because 'who the fuck brings a shotgun to a date'?", her hands clutched the map tighter when she heard twings snapping somewhere to her left that made her pick up her pace.

Just when she was about to spin on her heel and completely give up on Calahan's reckless plan, the path finally opened up to quite the breathtaking view, especially with the sun beginning to set: a shoreline of a small lake that John by some miracle still hadn't stained with a Baptism spot. "Rookie?", she hollered as she shoved the map into her back pocket and scanned the area for any signs of life, "Cal? You better not have sent me on a wild goose chase, I swear I won't let you leave it down." Then a sight made her release the breath she was holding as she got confirmation she was where she was supposed to be: a raccoon emerged from one of the overgrown shrubs ahead of her, its small head twisting to look her way. "Zorro, bud.", Mary May rushed to cover the distance that separated them in case Zorro decided to play hide and seek like his human father, "Where did your daddy go? Don't tell me he got into trouble…" The second the words left her mouth, arms wrapped around her from behind and enveloped her in a bear hug, a chuckle breezing over her skin before Calahan smushed his cheek to hers, "I'm right here, Angel. Was starting to think you won't show and it would be just me and Zorro again." There was a note of vulnerability to his playful tone, causing her heart to skip a breath as she covered his hands with her own, and their fingers intertwined. Zorro followed suit, paws encircling her leg, "Your little map and note certainly piqued my interest." Calahan swayed lightly, and she tried to stop herself from melting into his body when his lips brushed over her cheek, "I knew mystery would do the trick. How do you like my favorite place in the Valley?" "It's… peaceful. Almost like there's no war going.", Mary May muttered slowly, wishing she hadn't asked the next question the moment it escaped her, "You bring other girls here?" He let out a deep laugh, making the ugly feeling inside her fester further. Jealousy. "Never mind, Rookie.", her attempt to shrug off his hug was unsuccessful as he held on then as swiftly as he had embraced he twirled her around to face him, hands coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Calahan." "What?" He smirked, "That's my name, Mary May. You back to actin' all disinterested? Calling me Rookie?" Mary May shifted her eyes to a spot on his shoulder, annoyance swooping in at how easy he was able to read her and how satisfied he seemed with that ability. "Jealousy, Angel, not something I ever imagined from you. But damn, if it's not addicting… You know why? It means you care for me." His hand cupped her face and forced her to raise her gaze back to his before he continued, "Just my favorite people, Mary May. You, my son, my boys, Sabrina. Made the mistake to drag Pratt here once, kept complaining he couldn't catch any fish, the fucker." A couple of beats passed where she found herself unable to stop herself from returning his smile, "Damn it, Cal." "What?", Calahan asked in amusement. "I wish I hadn't… waited so long." His thumb storked her cheek as he nodded knowingly, "Me too. Come now, the view's about to get even better when the sun dips completely." He grasped her hand, leading her down the shore until they stopped at a blanket, one he had no doubt taken from her closet, on top of it was an old picnic basket, another thing of hers. She lowered herself to sit next to him as he started to pull out food and laying it down on the free space, "Let me guess, you rummaged through my fridge, too?" "Nope. Well, kind of... Drinks are on you, yes... but", he offered her a cheeky grin, "Dinner's on John tonight." Mary May raised an eyebrow, making him add, "I looted one of his trucks on the way. Don't worry, I left him a little thank you note." "Of course you did." She leaned her head on his shoulder as they watched the sunset with Zorro nestling comfortably at her feet. For the first time in a long while, she realized she felt… happy and as much as she hated to admit it - it scared her, because in her experience the rare feeling never lasted. John Seed always managed to slip in at those moments and destroy any source of happiness. Her calm life before the Project. Her family. Her father's business. The fragile peace that held on for surprisingly too long in his region. Yes, she was afraid. Afraid he'd take Calahan away from her, too.

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michaelgabrill · 2 months

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NASA has selected Dana Weigel as the International Space Station Program manager, based at the agency’s Johnson Space Center in Houston. Weigel succeeds Joel Montalbano, who has accepted a position as deputy associate administrator for the agency’s Space Operations Mission Directorate at NASA Headquarters in Washington. Both positions will be effective April 7. “Dana is […] from NASA https://ift.tt/HktRO54

#NASA #space #NASA Names New Station Manager #Space Operations Deputy #Michael Gabrill

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amarugujarat · 2 years

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