#TRPWS

[coquettefawn]

[thefangedstoryteller]

new lana del rey album on its wayyy!! girlies mark your calendars, 21st of may, 'the right person will stay' aka the finished product of lasso. (let's pray it's coming out on the stated release date🙏🏻)

i'm sorry but lana girl what is this. you're getting clowned on because of the title who is about gator guy and album cover looks like it's a for her funeral service. someone please take away picsart from her, it better be a different one by the time it releases😭

[hero1nndoll]

I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED FOR LANA'S NEW ALBUM ASHGIJAKOSNBVHJK

[imthatwannabeauthor]

Cursed by good

I go to aelp at 3 I trpw up at6 I goto sleep I throw ip at 9 I got the sleep I throw ip at 12 don’t let it hot three got help me

[jonsnow1777-blog]

one of the best NGO in DELHI. Helping kids for there education who are not able to go to the schools.

[cinemaocd]

To Tell You the Why, for Terror Rarepair Week, now up on AO3

[tomjopson]

Thomas Jopson/Alexander MacDonald | 1.7k words | Rated T

Dr MacDonald insists that Tom rest.

- a @theterrorbingo fill for insomnia and a TRPW fill for stolen moments

[realtommyinnit]

CRYING FUKCING RIGR NSNEJKOIDHFHX J CNAF TRPW NNOOMOM9ONO 9ONOSIISIDIRGVV AAAAAAA WGAFT DR3AM WHY

[zipegs]

little/irving  //  942 words, m  //  ao3 written for the trpw day 4: thirstday prompt: a sudden shock of skin

He hadn’t meant to look. Irving is not that sort of man—even if the subject of his attractions were a woman, he would find no thrill in voyeurism. It was an accident, a byproduct of some careless mariner leaving the door to Little’s berth slid open just far enough for light to slice out into the darkness of the corridor. It had caught Irving’s eye was all, and he’d turned his head to look before the sight had even truly registered. And it isn’t even as though he saw that much; Little’s back was to the door, and Bridgens, standing behind him, obscured much of the view. 

But he had seen.

The memory of it rushes through him like the strongest of drinks, warming his face and neck and ears until he begins to sweat beneath his uniform. Edward, hair mussed, readying himself for sleep. His braces hanging limp from his trousers, bare from the waist up. Irving nearly stopped dead when he caught sight of him, just past the door to Edward’s berth. Shamefully, he had to tamp down the urge to trace his steps backward for a second look.

He clutches his pen tighter, grip made insecure by perspiration, and the shaft slips tantalizingly in his hand.

Jesus! What a friend for sinners. Jesus, lover of my soul. He hums quietly to himself, picking a pitch slightly too high and a tempo slightly too quick. Friends may fail me, foes assail me. He, my savior, makes me whole.

John imagines himself in Bridgens’ place. He pictures himself helping Edward untie his cravat, how his knuckles would brush against the stubble on his neck. He’d help him out of his shirtsleeves, fingers steady and practiced on the buttons.

He presses the tip of his pen too hard against the parchment, and it tears, ink pooling beneath the nib like blood.

Hallelujah! What a savior! Hallelujah! What a friend!

John imagines how Edward’s nipples might pebble in the cold of his berth; how his skin might tighten with gooseflesh and the way he might shiver, muscles tensing just underneath.

He exhales shakily through his nose, desperately trying to regain control of himself. His trousers have begun to grow tight, and he daren’t look down at his lap for fear of what he may find.

Saving, helping, keeping, loving, He is with me to the end.

These thoughts are not new; they have come to him frequently throughout the short span of his life, but never has he found it quite so difficult to silence them. It is not as though he is unused to being in close quarters with men. On the contrary—as a Navy man, it is a situation to which he has grown accustomed. He has always found comfort at sea, has found a sort of poetry in surrounding himself with temptation and rising above it.

But here, hunched over his desk humming hymn tunes, with his pen unmoving and his prick hard in his pants, he wonders if this will be one fight he does not win.

John remembers descending to the orlop in search of Mr. Hickey. Remembers the shock and horror and arousal which had come with finding Mr. Gibson instead, disheveled and limping. He has thought of that encounter often in the time that has passed since. Has even gone so far as to imagine taking Edward down there—to envision himself guiding the lieutenant’s trousers down his thighs and putting a hand on him.

He whimpers, prick jumping in his smalls.

Jesus! He sings with near-silent desperation, opening his mouth to fit his lips around the word. The sound is breathy and high in this small space, thin as chiffon and twice as fragile. What a strength in weakness! Let me hide myself in Him.

His right hand still clutches his pen, though he has forsaken all thought of writing. He cannot remember where he stopped.

John’s other hand is clenched into a tight fist atop his thigh. His groin aches with its closeness. It would be so easy, he thinks lightheadedly, to press it against himself. To relieve the pressure, just for a moment. No one would know.

Perhaps—

Perhaps Edward would hear him. His singing, or his sighs, or what little whimpers he cannot stifle. He would think him in pain, maybe, and come see what befell him. He would slide the door aside after knocking, not waiting for a response, and would find Irving with his hand between his legs. His mouth would fall open, and he would stand there for a moment, shocked. But that shock would give way to something else. Something hungry. He’d watch John with heated eyes. He’d slide the door shut behind him, and when he turned back around, John would see the telltale swell of his trousers.

He would have stopped touching himself when Edward entered, mortification stilling his hand, but it would rouse itself to motion now, with the weight of the lieutenant’s full focus turned on him. John’s prick would ache beneath his own hand, and he would breathe heavy and desperate though his mouth and nose. In contrast, Edward would move slowly, ever the picture of restraint. He would make John wait. He would test the limits of his eagerness, would kneel between John’s legs and take his face in his hands and—

John whimpers. His hips buck up into his palm and he gasps, pen falling from his fingertips and clattering against the floor.

He screws his eyes shut and bites his lip. Tempted, tried, and often failing, he thinks, and slides a hand beneath his linens. He, my strength, my victory wins.

[coquettefawn]

SCREAMING CEYING THROWING UPPP OMG NEW LANA ALBUM OUT MAY 21

[sahilsainiss-blog]

​TRPWS is providing an Internship in various department.so you enrol it for the Internship where you'll get good knowledge with a great trainer who is experienced for a long time.you can visit the website for more information https://www.trpws.com/

[yumireo]

Activity Day Fun in Delhi: TRPWS Kids Shine

Dance, play, and endless smiles—TRPWS Activity Day was the highlight of the season in Delhi! The kids shone in every moment, spreading joy with every game and dance move. It’s not just about fun; it’s about giving these kids the opportunity to shine. Watch and see how you can make a difference!

[seemranjot]

Didi ke saath Photo 😂 #bacchaparty #TRPWS #dslrgeek #projectshiksha (at Pacific Mall)

[kbwcollege001]

축!경축! 2021년 김병완칼리지 책쓰기 수업 수강생 8 명 연속 베스트셀러 !역시 책쓰기는 김병완칼리지! ☆   자기계발 1위    삼성맨 출신 베스트셀러작가의  책쓰기 수업☆ 연예인도, 의사도, 변호사도, 미국에서도 참여하는 글로벌 책쓰기 수업☆ https://cafe.naver.com/collegeofkim/13744 ☆ 단 3주 만에 독서력 5배 향상 보장!  단3주면 당신도  독서천재가 된다. 70대 어르신이 양페이지 리딩! 역시 독서법은   퀀텀독서법 수업 ☆ https://cafe.naver.com/collegeofkim/13743 #창업 #컨설팅 #책쓰기 #글쓰기강좌 #글쓰기 #작가수업 #독서법 #책읽는법  #책쓰기특강  #책쓰기수업 #독서법학원 #독서하는법  #책쓰는법 #책쓰기학원 #책쓰기강좌 #책쓰기학교 #퀀텀독서법 #김병완 #속독법 #김병완칼리지 #책추천  #작가배출  #베스트셀러 #작가되는법  #베스트셀러작가 #작가양성 #독서천재 https://www.instagram.com/p/CRRiE-TrpW-/?utm_medium=tumblr

[rurambles]

writes 4 things for tsukki rare pair week, appropriated another WIP for another TRPW week

has 4 other things started, debates another

doesnt? work? on? ongoing? stories?