#the last link is a different / new fundraiser

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image shows four small porcelain bowls of a pudding topped with slivered almonds and pomegranates seeds, seen from above. Second image is an extreme close-up showing the blue floral pattern on the china, slivered almonds, golden raisins, and pomegranate seeds on top of part of the pudding. End ID]

անուշապուր / Anush apur (Armenian wheat dessert)

Anush apur is a sweet boiled wheat pudding, enriched with nuts and dried fruits, that is eaten by Armenians to celebrate special occasions. One legend associates the dish with Noah's Ark: standing on Mt. Ararat (Արարատ լեռը) and seeing the rainbow of God's covenant with humanity, Noah wished to celebrate, and called for a stew to be prepared; because the Ark's stores were diminishing, the stew had to be made with small amounts of many different ingredients.

The consumption of boiled grains is of ancient origin throughout the Levant and elsewhere in West Asia, and so variations of this dish are widespread. The Armenian term is from "անուշ" ("anush") "sweet" + "ապուր" ("apur") "soup," but closely related dishes (or, arguably, versions of the same dish) have many different, overlapping names.

In Arabic, an enriched wheat pudding may be known as "سْنَينِيّة" ("snaynīyya"), presumably from "سِنّ" "sinn" "tooth" and related to the tradition of serving it on the occasion of an infant's teething; "قَمْح مَسْلُوق‎" ("qamḥ masluq"), "boiled wheat"; or "سَلِيقَة" ("salīqa") or "سَلِيقَة القَمْح" ("salīqa al-qamḥ"), "stew" or "wheat stew," from "سَلَقَ‎" "salaqa" "to boil." Though these dishes are often related to celebrations and happy occasions, in some places they retain an ancient association with death and funerary rites: qamh masluq is often served at funerals in the Christian town of بَيْت جَالَا ("bayt jālā," Beit Jala, near Bethlehem).

A Lebanese iteration, often made with milk rather than water, is known as "قَمْحِيَّة" ("qamḥīyya," from "qamḥ" "wheat" + "ـِيَّة" "iyya," noun suffix).

A similar dish is known as "بُرْبَارَة" ("burbāra") by Palestinian and Jordanian Christians when eaten to celebrate the feast of Saint Barbara, which falls on the 4th of December (compare Greek "βαρβάρα" "varvára"). It may be garnished with sugar-coated chickpeas and small, brightly colored fennel candies in addition to the expected dried fruits and nuts.

In Turkish it is "aşure," from the Arabic "عَاشُوْرَاء" ("'āshūrā"), itself from "عَاشِر" ("'āshir") "tenth"—because it is often served on the tenth day of the month of ٱلْمُحَرَّم ("muḥarram"), to commemorate Gabriel's teaching Adam and Eve how to farm wheat; Noah's disembarkment from the Ark; Moses' parting of the Red Sea; and the killing of the prophet الْحُسَيْن بْنِ عَلِي (Husayn ibn 'Ali), all of which took place on this day in the Islamic calendar. Here it also includes various types of beans and chickpeas. There is also "diş buğdayı," "tooth wheat" (compare "snayniyya").

These dishes, as well as slight variations in add-ins, have varying consistencies. At one extreme, koliva (Greek: "κόλλυβα"; Serbian: "Кољиво"; Bulgarian: "Кутя"; Romanian: "colivă"; Georgian: "კოლიო") is made from wheat that has been boiled and then strained to remove the boiling water; at the other, Armenian anush apur is usually made thin, and cools to a jelly-like consistency.

Anush apur is eaten to celebrate occasions including New Year's Eve, Easter, and Christmas. In Palestine, Christmas is celebrated by members of the Armenian Apostolic church from the evening of December 24th to the day of December 25th by the old Julian calendar (January 6th–7th, according to the new Gregorian calendar); Armenian Catholics celebrate on December 24th and 25th by the Gregorian calendar. Families will make large batches of anush apur and exchange bowls with their neighbors and friends.

The history of Armenians in Palestine is deeply interwoven with the history of Palestinian Christianity. Armenian Christian pilgrimages to holy sites in Palestine date back to the 4th century A.D., and permanent Armenian monastic communities have existed in Jerusalem since the 6th century. This enduring presence, bolstered by subsequent waves of immigration which have increased and changed the character of the Armenian population in Palestine in the intervening centuries, has produced a rich history of mutual influence between Armenian and Palestinian food cultures.

In the centuries following the establishment of the monasteries, communities of Armenian laypeople arose and grew, centered around Jerusalem's Վանք Հայոց Սրբոց Յակոբեանց ("vank hayots surbots yakobeants"; Monastery of St. James) (Arabic: دَيْر مَار يَعْقُوب "dayr mār ya'qūb"). Some of these laypeople were descended from the earlier pilgrims. By the end of the 11th century, what is now called the Armenian Quarter—an area covering about a sixth of the Old City of Jerusalem, to the southwest—had largely attained its present boundaries.

Throughout the 16th and 17th centuries, the Patriarchate in Jerusalem came to have direct administrative authority over Armenian Christians across Palestine, Lebanon, Egypt, and Cyprus, and was an important figure in Christian leadership and management of holy sites in Jerusalem (alongside the Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches). By the middle of the 19th century, a small population of Armenian Catholics had joined the larger Armenian Apostolic community as permanent residents in Jerusalem, living throughout the Muslim Quarter (but mostly in a concentrated enclave in the southwest); in the beginning of the 20th century, there were between 2,000 and 3,000 Armenians of both churches in Palestine, a plurality of whom (1,200) lived in Jerusalem.

The Turkish genocide of Armenians beginning in 1915 caused significant increases in the populations of Armenian enclaves in Palestine. The Armenian population in Jerusalem grew from 1,500 to 5,000 between the years of 1918 and 1922; over the next 3 years, the total number of Armenians in Palestine (according to Patriarchate data) would grow to 15,000. More than 800 children were taken into Armenian orphanages in Jerusalem; students from the destroyed Չարխափան Սուրբ Աստվածածին վանք (Charkhapan Surb Astvatsatsin Monastery) and theological seminary in Armash, Armenia were brought to the Jerusalem Seminary. The population of Armenian Catholics in the Muslim Quarter also increased during the first half of the 20th century as immigrants from Cilicia and elsewhere arrived.

The immediate importance of feeding and housing the refugees despite a new lack of donations from Armenian pilgrims, who had stopped coming during WW1—as well as the fact that the established Armenian-Palestinians were now outnumbered by recent immigrants who largely did not share their reformist views—disrupted efforts on the part of lay communities and some priests to give Armenian laypeople a say in church governance.

The British Mandate, under which Britain assumed political and military control of Palestine from 1923–1948, would further decrease the Armenian lay community's voice in Jerusalem (removing, for example, their say in elections of new church Patriarchs). The British knew that the indigenous population would be easier to control if they were politically and socially divided into their separate religious groups and subjected to the authority of their various religious hierarchies, rather than having direct political representation in government; they also took advantage of the fact that the ecclesiastical orders of several Palestinian Christian sects (including the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem) comprised people from outside of Palestine, who identified with religious hierarchy and the British authorities more than they identified with the Palestinian lay communities.

British policy, as well as alienating Armenians from politics affecting their communities, isolated them from Arab Palestinians. Though the previously extant Armenian community (called "քաղաքացի" "kaghakatsi," "city-dwellers") were thoroughly integrated with the Arab Palestinians in the 1920s, speaking Arabic and Arabic-accented Armenian and eating Palestinian foods, the newer arrivals (called "زُوَّار" / "զուվվար" "zuwwar," "visitors") were unfamiliar with Palestinian cuisine and customs, and spoke only Armenian and/or Turkish. Thus British policies, which differentiated people based on status as "Arab" (Muslim and Christian) versus "Jewish," left new Armenian immigrants, who did not identify as Arab, disconnected from the issues that concerned most Palestinians. They were predominantly interested in preserving Armenian culture, and more concerned with the politics of the Armenian diaspora than with local ones.

Despite these challenges, the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem came to be a vital center of religious and secular culture for the Armenian diaspora during the British Mandate years. In 1929, Patriarch Yeghishe Turian reëstablished the Սուրբ Յակոբեանց Տպարան ("surbots yakobeants taparan"; St. James printing house); the Patriarchate housed important archives relating to the history of the Armenian people; pilgrimages of Armenians from Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt increased and the economy improved, attracting Armenian immigrants in higher numbers; Armenians held secular roles in governance, policing, and business, and founded social, religious, and educational organizations and institutions; Armenians in the Old and New Cities of Jerusalem were able to send financial aid to Armenian victims of a 1933 earthquake in Beirut, and to Armenians expelled in 1939 when Turkey annexed Alexandretta.

The situation would decline rapidly after the 1947 UN partition resolution gave Zionists tacit permission to expel Palestinians from broad swathes of Palestine. Jerusalem, intended by the plan to be a "corpus separatum" under international administration, was in fact subjected to a months-long war that ended with its being divided into western (Israeli) and eastern (Palestinian) sections. The Armenian population of Palestine began to decline; already, 1947 saw 1,500 Armenians resettled in Soviet Armenia. The Armenian populations in Yafa and Haifa would fall yet more significantly.

Still, the Armenian Patriarchate of Jerusalem maintained its role as the center of Armenian life in Palestine; the compound provided food and shelter to thousands of Armenians during the Battle for Jerusalem and the Nakba (which began in 1948). Some Armenians formed a militia to defend the Armenian Quarter against Haganah shelling during the battle.

In the following years, historical British contributions to the shoring up of insular power in the Patriarchate would cause new problems. The Armenian secular community, no longer empowered to oversee the internal workings of the Patriarchate, could do nothing to prevent embezzling, corruption, and even the sale of church-owned land and buildings to settlers.

In 1967, Israeli military forces annexed East Jerusalem, causing another, albeit smaller, surge in Armenian emigration from the city. Daphne Tsimhoni estimates based on various censuses that the Armenian population of Jerusalem, which had reached 5,000-7,000 at its peak in 1945–6, had fallen back to 1,200 by 1978.

Today, as in the 20th century, Armenians in Jerusalem (who made up nearly 90% of the Armenian population of Palestine as of 1972) are known for the insularity of their community, and for their skill at various crafts. Armenian food culture has been kept alive and well-defined by successive waves of immigrants. As of 2017, the Armenian Patriarchate supplied about 120 people a day with Armenian dishes, including Ղափամա / غاباما "ghapama" (pumpkin stuffed with rice and dried fruits), թոփիկ / توبيك "topig" (chickpea-and-potato dough stuffed with an onion, nut, fruit, and herb filling, often eaten during Lent), and Իչ / ايتش "eetch" (bulgur salad with tomatoes and herbs).

Restaurants lining the streets of the Armenian and Christian quarters serve a mixture of Armenian and Palestinian food. Լահմաջո "lahmadjoun" (meat-topped flatbread), and հարիսա / هريس "harisa" (stew with wheat and lamb) are served alongside ֆալաֆել / فلافل ("falafel") and մուսախան / مسخن ("musakhkhan"). One such restaurant, Taboon Wine Bar, was the site of a settler attack on Armenian diners in January 2023.

Up until 2023, despite fluctuations in population, the Armenian community in Jerusalem had been relatively stable when compared to other Armenian communities and to other quarters of the Old City; the Armenian Quarter had not been subjected to the development projects to which other quarters had been subjected. However, a deal which the Armenian Patriarchate had secretly and unilaterally made with Israel real estate developer Danny Rotham in 2021 to lease land and buildings (including family homes) in the Quarter led Jordan and Palestine to suspend their recognition of the Patriarch in May of 2023.

On 26th October, the Patriarchate announced that it was cancelling the leasing deal. Later the same day, Israeli bulldozers tore up pavement and part of a wall in حديقة البقر ("ḥadīqa al-baqar"; Cows' Garden; Armenian: "Կովերի այգու"), the planned site of a new luxury hotel. On 5th November, Rothman and other representatives of Xana Gardens arrived with 15 settlers—some of them with guns and attack dogs—and told local Armenians to leave. About 200 Armenian Palestinians arrived and forced the settlers to stand down.

On 12th and 13th November, the developer again arrived with bulldozers and attempted to continue demolition. In response, Armenian Palestinians have executed constant sit-ins, faced off against bulldozers, and set up barricades to prevent further destruction. The Israeli occupation police backed settlers on another incursion on 15th November, ordering Armenian residents to vacate the land and arresting three.

On December 28th, a group of Armenian bishops, priests, deacons, and seminary students (including Bishop Koryoun Baghdasaryan, the director of the Patriarchate's real estate department) were attacked by a group of more than 30 people armed with sticks and tear gas. The Patriarchate attributed this attack to Israeli real estate interests trying to intimidate the Patriarchate into abandoning their attempt to reverse the lease through the court system. Meanwhile, anti-Armenian hate crimes (including spitting on priests) had noticeably increased for the year of 2023.

These events in Palestine come immediately after the ethnic cleansing of Լեռնային Ղարաբաղ ("Lernayin Gharabagh"; Nagorno-Karabakh); Israel supplied exploding drones, long-range missiles, and rocket launchers to help Azerbaijan force nearly 120,000 Armenians out of the historically Armenian territory in September of 2023 (Azerbaijan receives about 70% of its weapons from Israel, and supplies about 40% of Israel's oil).

Support Palestinian resistance by donating to Palestine Action’s bail fund; buying an e-sim for distribution in Gaza; or donating to help a family leave Gaza.

Ingredients

180g (1 cup) pearled wheat (قمح مقشور / խոշոր ձաւար), soaked overnight

3 cups water

180-360g (a scant cup - 1 3/4 cup) sugar, or to taste

Honey or agave nectar (optional)

1 cup total diced dried apricots, prunes, golden raisins, dried figs

1 cup total chopped walnuts, almonds, pistachios

1 tsp rosewater (optional)

Ceylon cinnamon (դարչին) or cassia cinnamon (կասիա)

Aniseed (անիսոն) (optional)

Large pinch of salt

Pomegranate seeds, to top (optional)

A Palestinian version of this dish may add pine nuts and ground fennel.

Pearled wheat is whole wheat berry that has gone through a "pearling" process to remove the bran. It can be found sold as "pearled wheat" or "haleem wheat" in a halal grocery store, or a store specializing in South Asian produce.

Amounts of sugar called for in Armenian recipes range from none (honey is stirred into the dish after cooking) to twice the amount of wheat by weight. If you want to add less sugar than is called for here, cook down to a thicker consistency than called for (as the sugar will not be able to thicken the pudding as much).

Instructions

1. Submerge wheat in water and scrub between your hands to clean and remove excess starch. Drain and cover by a couple inches with hot water. Cover and leave overnight.

2. Drain wheat and add to a large pot. Add water to cover and simmer for about 30 minutes until softened, stirring and adding more hot water as necessary.

Wheat before cooking

Wheat after cooking

3. Add dried fruit, sugar, salt, and spices and simmer for another 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until wheat is very tender. Add water as necessary; the pudding should be relatively thin, but still able to coat the back of a spoon.

4. Remove from heat and stir in rosewater and honey. Ladle pudding into individual serving bowls and let cool in the refrigerator. Serve cold decorated with nuts and pomegranate seeds.

#the last link is a different / new fundraiser #Armenian #Palestinian #fusion #wheat berries #pearled wheats #pomegranate #prunes #dried apricot #dates #long post /

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/04/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&Crew;WJW; Con O'Neill; David Jenkins; Bumbles; Rhys Darby; A LeagueOfTheirOwn Watch Party; Wrecked WP Continues; NewarkNewark WP tomorrow; Fundraiser Statuses; SchadenFreude; Fan Spotlight; Podcasts; LoveNotes; DailyDarby/Tonight's Taika

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

== Wee John Wonday ==

Today's Wee John Wonday featured our Pirate Queen Ruibo Qian! Please check the video out on Kristian's Instagram! Don't have time to watch? There are some highlights below the pic!

Some Highlights:

Anapela couldn't make it tonight sorry!

Ruibo is really into perfume like Kristian

Ruibo and Anapela really clicked on set!

Ruibo still has hope regarding s3!

“DO I wanna smell like a haystack with a cow dung hidden inside of it?” - Ruibo

Ruibo would be interested in polycule, Zheng may not be

Kristian has an announcement coming out tomorrow - 📚

Apparently the last episode, when they were all walking out in the colonial outfits, it was SUPER LONG and a lot of it was cut.

Qian means money = so Ruibo is literally the Money Bitch

== Con O'Neil ==

One of our wonderful crew-mates was out and about and ran into none other than THE Con O'Neill! Thank you so much for sharing this meet up with us @queerjolras!

Con also posted a picture of himself and his pup Cooper on IG today!

== David Jenkins ==

Our friend @cosmosart-s posted a lovely picture of David for the 2 year anniversary OFMD anniversary and David ran it on his IG Story! One thing I've noticed a few people mentioning was the "3" hearts. Not to clown/honk too hard, but just something to think about <3

== Rare Bumbles Sighting ==

Many of you know of Rhys and Rosie's cat Bumbles, but we don't get to see Bumbles too often! Rosie uploaded an adorable photo of one of the Darby Feline-Fam.

== Rhys Darby ==

Are you in Aotearoa? Stop in to seen see Rhys on Wed 3 Apr 2024, 8:00pm–10:00pm at the Wild Estate in Auckland!

New Cryptid Factor Episode!

89: #089 The 2nd First Issue!

Spotify / Podfriend / Apple Podcasts

== New Watch Parties ==

= Mar 3 - Mar 7 A League Of Their Own =

Join us this week starting Monday, March 4th for a multi-fandom watch party! Each day will have different games and polls! (Sorry this is a bit late, I didn't get it until today!)

Where: Amazon Prime

Time: Every day 1 PM EST / 10AM PT! 

Day One, March 4th: Pilot episodes for both series with tweeting predictions for the rest of the seasons. 

Day Two, March 5th: Bingos! Live tweet your reaction and share your filled out bingo cards! 

Day Three, March 6th: Polls! Live tweet your reactions and share your thoughts on the shows so far! 

Day Four, March 7th: Caption the screencaps from the shows: Wrong answers only! 

Day Five, March 8th: Finale time! Share your predictions for the next seasons with the hashtags. 

Watch Party Hashtags:

OurFlagMeansBaseball, 

SaveOFMD 

SaveALOTO to join the event! 

== Watch Party Reminders! ==

Mar 4 - Mar 8: Wrecked Season 1

Wrecked is no longer on any streaming platform, and it is not available digitally on US sites. (Apparently, it is available on German Amazon?) There are sources being passed around. If access is an issue, DM @iamadequate1 on Twitter or Tumblr

Season 1 watch from March 4th to March 8th. 

Season 2 watch from March 11th to March 15th. 

Season 3 watch from March 18th to March 22nd. 

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST. Watch two episodes per day. Episodes are 21-22 minutes each. Use the following Saturday for the tags/watch if interested but not able to make this time.

Hashtags: 

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

= Mar 5: NewarkNewark with @adoptourcrew =

Please join @adoptourcrew for a @NewarkNewark watch party on March 5th at 10 pm GMT/ 2pm PS / 5pm EST!

== Fundraiser Statuses ==

= Underground Ads =

The Final Stage of the Save OFMD Crew fundraisor for the underground ads is still going! If you're so inclined, feel free to donate or share around! Ko-Fi Link

= In Soup Now =

Wow! Only 24 hours open, and already at 10%! Great job all!

== Schaden Freude ==

Thanks @iamadequate1 for catching the very sad times WBD Inc is experiencing on the NASDAQ

== How to Help ==

Another Ranker Poll! Feel free to hop in and bump OFMD up. You can rank shows up AND down so make sure to rank other shows as well. Ranker Link

== Fan Spotlight ==

Our lovely crew-mate @melvisik is back again, this time with our favorite Captain Rhys Darby as part of the Crew Cards <3

== Podcasts ==

@fandomthingpod on Twitter did an episode on the OFMD Renewal campaign and interviewed our esteemed crew-mate @lcwebsxoxo! They gave lots of kudos to the @saveofmdcrewmates and @adoptourcrew and the recaps got a shout out too! (Ty for the mention LC!) The Campaign To Save OurFlagMeansDeath

== Love Notes ==

Hello lovelies :) It was an action packed day for sure (as Mondays usually are). That being said I took some time to do some stuff today I've been meaning to, so I apologize for not taking more time on love notes!

Please know me and your crew-mates are thinking of you and hoping for all the best things for you in the upcoming days.

I know it's short but here are some reminders / love notes in other people's words for today/tomorrow. <3

Stay Strong Lovelies! Whatever you're up to, you're gonna make it through, I believe in you!

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Yeahhhhh no gifs tonight luvs, I am running late and I can't stop looking at these still pictures anyway, so here you are <3

Taika Src / Rhys courtesy of Prim on Discord!

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #david jenkins #rhys darby #ruibo qian #taika waititi #love notes #watch parties #fundraisers #kristian nairn #bumbles #con o'neill

[walks-the-ages]

ah, can't find the original post to respond to it, and tumblr was refusing to let me actually post with the usual bullshit of "sorry there was an error processing your post" . anyways.

If you see a post going around about Jewish restaurants being targeted for harassment by pro-palestine protestors "solely for being Jewish", stop what you are doing and actually look up the incident in question, because that is not what happened at Goldie's restaurant!

Full article below for accessiblity, and because we all know Tumblr only looks at headlines and doesn't click links to news articles.

Long post!

Bolding is my own for emphasis.

A protest against a top Israel-born chef was called antisemitic. Staff tell a different story

Wilfred ChanFri 8 Dec 2023 16.55 GMTFirst published on Fri 8 Dec 2023 12.00 GMT

The 21-second clip went viral almost as soon as it was posted early on Sunday evening. It showed hundreds of protesters, some with Palestinian flags, united in a rhyming chant: “Goldie, Goldie, you can’t hide, we charge you with genocide!”

They were protesting outside Goldie, a vegan falafel restaurant owned by Michael Solomonov, the Israel-born celebrity chef best known for Zahav, an Israeli-themed restaurant widely considered one of the United States’ finest eateries. It was one brief stop along a march traversing Philadelphia that lasted about three hours.

Many of the protesters hadn’t even returned home from the march when the condemnations began to pour in. The Pennsylvania governor, Josh Shapiro, a Democrat, posted on X: “Tonight in Philly, we saw a blatant act of antisemitism – not a peaceful protest. A restaurant was targeted and mobbed because its owner is Jewish and Israeli. This hate and bigotry is reminiscent of a dark time in history.”

Even the White House piled on: it was “antisemitic and completely unjustifiable to target restaurants that serve Israeli food over disagreements with Israeli policy”, said the deputy press secretary, Andrew Bates. Douglas Emhoff, husband of Vice-President Kamala Harris, wrote on X that he had spoken with Solomonov and “told him @POTUS, @VP, and the entire Biden-Harris Administration will continue to have his back”.

It was the apex of a saga that has resulted in at least three workers fired from Solomonov’s restaurants over, as they see it, their pro-Palestine activism coming into conflict with their bosses’ views and policies, and at least one other worker who has resigned in protest – thrusting the renowned Israeli eateries into the thick of bitter US disagreements over the Israel-Hamas war.

The street protest against Goldie has sparked heated debate. As the war on Gaza rages on, with over 17,000 people killed in Gaza since 7 October – 70% of them women and children, according to Gaza’s health ministry – are Israel-linked businesses in the US implicated? Was Solomonov, a chef who has credited Palestinian influences in his cooking, an appropriate target?

Interviews with protesters and current and former employees at Solomonov’s restaurants paint a more complex version of events than what the video clip may have suggested. They reject the notion that Goldie was singled out because of the owners’ ethnicity, arguing that their objections stem from management using the restaurants to fundraise for Israel after 7 October in spite of worker concerns. Activists also say their protest shines a necessary spotlight on the political commitments of one of the highest-profile restaurateurs in the United States.

Tensions at work

There were political tensions simmering at Solomonov’s restaurants before Sunday’s march. The Guardian spoke to three Goldie workers who say they were fired due to their pro-Palestine advocacy: two who wore Palestinian flag pins in violation of a newly announced dress code that forbade non-Goldie branded adornments, and another who tweeted in support of Sunday’s street protest.

Their discomfort at work began following a fundraiser in October, during which Solomonov and his business partner Steve Cook announced they would donate all of the restaurant group’s profits from one day, over $100,000, to United Hatzalah, an Israeli medical non-profit that has supplied the Israel Defense Forces with protective and medical gear during the current war against Hamas.

And in early November, Solomonov’s Zahav hosted a private fundraiser by a prominent political action committee dedicated to supporting political candidates “who reflect Jewish values”. Attendees at the event, which has not been previously reported, included the Michigan governor, Gretchen Whitmer; and dozens of other pro-Israel officials and lobbyists, according to a current Zahav employee, who spoke on condition of anonymity. The employee said that in recent weeks, Solomonov had also booked and paid for multiple, lavish private dinners at Zahav for IDF members preparing to deploy to fight for Israel.

“The amount of material support that we’ve lended to pro-Israel causes and Israeli military personnel has been really discomforting,” the Zahav worker told the Guardian.

In an email to workers on Wednesday, Solomonov and Cook apologized for not communicating about their political stances with staff more directly. The pair had sought to “avoid discussing politics at work … to make everyone as comfortable as possible in the restaurant,” the owners wrote. “But perhaps we created a void that had the opposite effect. For that, we are sorry.”

The fraught politics of food

The protest and its fallout have produced the biggest controversy ever faced by Solomonov, one of America’s most prominent Israeli cultural figures and someone who for years has cast himself as a culinary bridge between Israel, Palestine, and the United States.

Solomonov’s brother, a soldier in the Israel Defense Forces, was killed in 2003 by Hezbollah snipers; Solomonov wrote in his first cookbook, Zahav, that the tragedy made him briefly consider joining Israel’s army. Instead, he decided to channel his emotion into food, something he found allowed him to “expose people to a side of Israel that had nothing to do with politics”. That led him and Cook, an investment banker-turned-restaurateur, to found Zahav in 2008, followed by other prominent Israeli-themed eateries: Dizengoff, Goldie, K’Far, and Laser Wolf, under a restaurant group called CookNSolo. In 2017, Israel’s ministry of tourism named him a culinary ambassador.

The restaurants have never been completely free from controversy. Debates over the origins and ownership of Middle Eastern food have raged for years; many culinary experts have argued that Palestinian contributions to Mediterranean cuisine have been used by Israeli chefs without sufficient respect or acknowledgement. Yet while Solomonov and Cook have always branded their food as Israeli, their menus and cookbooks cite Palestinian influences on many dishes. For years, Solomonov also spoke of his friendship with the Palestinian writer and cookbook author Reem Kassis – though the two are no longer speaking, according to the New York Times.

But the conflicts aren’t just over cultural appropriation. They’re about “the way Israel as a state has weaponized food against the Palestinian people”, says the Palestinian American chef Reem Assil, who owns Reem’s, a Arab street food joint in San Francisco. “Even before these last 60 days, Israel has restricted what Gazans can access in terms of food and water. They target bakeries, they target farms, they target markets. They uproot our olive trees, they make it illegal for us to forge our own ingredients, like za’atar.” The UN warned last month that Israel’s military operations in Gaza had put residents there at “immediate” risk of starvation.

A controversial fundraiser

Since the 7 October attacks, Solomonov has publicly sought to caveat his support for Israel. “I personally believe in the right of Palestinians to have their own state, and the right for self-determination, and I don’t deny those things,” he said at an event last month in New Jersey, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer. “And I believe the Israeli government oftentimes does things that I would not do at all … and it can be quite damaging.”

But internally, Solomonov and Cook were using their restaurants to steer resources toward Israel.

On 10 October, Solomonov and Cook announced a fundraiser that would donate all the profits across CookNSolo restaurants on 12 October to United Hatzalah. “It is not associated with any military,” the restaurant group assured staff in a Slack message – something that simply wasn’t true, workers soon realized with alarm.

Goldie staff were caught off guard because they considered the restaurant a politically progressive institution. The vegan falafel restaurant proudly displayed an LGBTQ flag and Black Lives Matter flag on its wall. Many of the workers were young and identified as queer. There was a casual dress code: Noah Wood, a 25-year-old who uses they/them pronouns, said they did shifts at Goldie while wearing hats with slogans supporting indigenous rights.

The night before CookNSolo’s fundraiser, Goldie’s store manager at the time, 24-year-old Sophie Hamilton, says she discovered public videos by United Hatzalah about how the non-profit supplied protective gear to IDF soldiers. She rushed off an email to Goldie’s general manager, Emma Richards, saying she felt “deeply betrayed and misled”. “I feel like I’ve been left with no choice but to refuse to come to work tomorrow unless [CookNSolo] commits to also raising donations for a Palestinian humanitarian organization, of course with no connection to any military.”

But Hamilton’s suggestion was ignored, and Richards simply told her someone would cover her shift the next day.

When Hamilton returned to work, she decided to keep working but while wearing a small Palestinian flag pin. “There’s just a point where you can’t leave your humanity at the door,” she said. No customers complained, but two weeks later, management announced a new rule: staff were not to wear stickers, pins, or patches that were not Goldie-branded.

Wood, the other server, started wearing a Palestinian flag pin in open defiance of the new rule. Another worker, June, 24, wore a green shirt, black pants, and a red bandana – a reference to the colors of Palestinian flag.

On 15 November, the restaurant asked Hamilton to send Wood home for violating the dress code. Hamilton refused, and the next day they were both fired, Hamilton for “poor performance for failing to enforce the uniform policy”. Wood was not given any official reason, they say.

In the Wednesday email to staff, the owners wrote: “We recognize that people have different views on the war between Israel and Hamas, and we respect your rights to your own views. Many of our guests have passionate feelings about the current conflict and, knowing that not all of you feel the same way, our approach is to simply avoid discussing politics at work.”

They did not provide details on the firings beyond writing: “It is also important for you to hear directly from us that we have never terminated employees based on their support for Palestine.”

The owners added: “We think it’s important to say that our support of Israel is not unqualified. We have plenty of criticisms, particularly in the way that the government has stymied the prospects for Palestinian statehood in recent years.”

In a statement shared with the Guardian, United Hatzalah’s senior vice-president for international operations, Michael Brown, said that the nonprofit and the IDF “often train together, especially when conducting mass casualty training drills, or search and rescue training drills in order to hone our skills and help the IDF sharpen theirs, as well as to allow for an easier flow of collaborative life saving efforts should the need ever arise in the field, similar to what happened during October 7th.”

The restaurant group declined to respond to a detailed list of questions by the Guardian about the fired workers, but a spokeswoman said in a statement: “CookNSolo exists to create community through food. We are committed to fostering an open, safe, and supportive workplace for all of our employees who have varying backgrounds and political views. Like many hospitality companies, we have standard policies for our employees, which we consistently enforce.” Solomonov declined, through a representative, a direct request for an interview.

Justin Sadowsky, an attorney at the Council on American-Islamic Relations, a civil rights non-profit, says the firings of Goldie workers are the first time he’s heard of restaurant workers allegedly fired for supporting Palestine since 7 October. “We’ve seen it in hospitals, we’ve seen it at large corporations, we’ve seen it in law firms, but it’s sort of spilling into everywhere,” he said. The organization says it’s received a “staggering” 2,171 requests for help and reports of bias in the 57 days since the Israel-Hamas war began, equalling nearly half of the total complaints it handled in all of 2022.

Call for a boycott

Meanwhile, CookNSolo’s fundraiser for United Hatzalah had caught the attention of local activists in a group called the Philadelphia Free Palestine Coalition. The activists weren’t in touch with the restaurant workers, but drew the same conclusion: by funneling restaurant proceeds toward a group associated with the IDF, CookNSolo was complicit in Israel’s war crimes.

In mid-October, the activists called for a boycott. Natalie Abulhawa, a Palestinian American organizer at the Free Palestine Coalition, helped write an Instagram post for the boycott that named three of Solomonov’s restaurants – Goldie, Zahav, and Laser Wolf – as well as a number of other Middle Eastern restaurants in the city. “Restaurants and businesses claiming to sell ‘Israeli’ food, fruits, vegetables, and products are part of an ongoing colonial campaign of stealing, appropriating, and profiting off of Palestinian food and culture as a means of erasing Palestinian existence,” the call read.

The boycott made waves in the food world, and Solomonov addressed it at a closed-door event in November at a New Jersey Jewish Community Center. Speaking to the crowd of several hundred, he called the boycott misguided, adding that it wasn’t affecting his sales, according to the Inquirer. While acknowledging that “part of Israeli food is Palestinian influenced”, he argued that any suggestion that Israeli food was stolen from Palestinians was akin to saying Israelis “don’t have a right to be there”. Solomonov added that his restaurants credited Palestinian influences on their menus and claimed Zahav imported more Palestinian wines than any other Philadelphia eatery.

But privately, Solomonov and Cook were using their restaurants to platform Israel’s war effort. On 1 November, Zahav hosted a fundraiser by a major political action committee called Democratic Jewish Outreach Pennsylvania, whose guests included Whitmer and as many as 80 other pro-Israel officials and lobbyists, according to the unnamed Zahav employee. “It was an explicitly pro-Israel reception and speeches made were about that support,” the employee said.

The employee said that Whitmer, who delivered a keynote, opened with the Jewish expression of solidarity “Am Yisrael Chai”, or “the people of Israel live”, and called for providing material support to Israel, and that Solomonov, who was in the audience, was afterward “emphatically talking and thanking all of the attendees”.

In the following weeks, the employee became even more disturbed as Solomonov hosted and paid for at least two private dinners at Zahav for small groups of Israelis, including soldiers who were preparing to fly home to fight the Gaza war. Solomonov explained with “a level of reverence” that the restaurant would cover the bill because of the diners’ roles in the Israeli military, the employee says.

These events, in addition to the firings of Goldie staff, have made many of Zahav’s staff deeply uncomfortable. “Most of the employees here are not particularly interested in the support of Israel,” the employee said, but the workers fear retaliation if they speak out. CookNSolo declined to comment on the events at Zahav.

A clip goes viral

Pennsylvania’s Jewish and Muslim communities have been on edge since the Israel-Hamas war began. On Monday, a Jewish daycare in Philadelphia reported that vandals had spray-painted “Free Palestine” and other graffiti on its windows. On Tuesday, a pair of students sued the University of Pennsylvania, claiming it had become an “incubation lab for virulent anti-Jewish hatred”. Last week, a South Philadelphia mosque reported that it had been vandalized by anti-Muslim graffiti. And last month, a man was arrested for pointing a gun and yelling racial slurs against a group of pro-Palestine demonstrators at the state’s capitol.

The Goldie protest also followed a growing number of incidents that have entangled Middle Eastern food businesses. Palestinian restaurants such as New York City’s Ayat have reported being flooded with negative reviews since the war began; last month, an ex-Obama aide was charged with a hate crime for harassing a halal food street vendor.

But Goldie’s attempts to head off pro-Palestinian activism were futile.

On 3 December, the Free Palestine Coalition led hundreds of protesters in an evening of marches around Philadelphia to renew calls for a ceasefire. Starting from Rittenhouse Square in Philly’s Center City neighborhood, the march took a wrong turn, which brought it past Goldie, says Abulhawa. The encounter with the falafel restaurant wasn’t planned, she says, “but we ran with it”.

June, who is Jewish, was one of the employees working inside Goldie that night, and said the protest – which lasted just a few minutes – was completely peaceful: “There was nothing violent, no hint of antisemitism.” The store was devoid of guests when the marchers arrived, though one customer came in partway through to pickup an online order and displayed no reaction. June even thought about going outside to join the protest, but thought better of it and instead quietly chanted along to the slogans from inside the store.

Someone placed two small stickers on Goldie’s door and window. One read, “Free Palestine,” and another contained a statistic about the number of children Israel had killed in Gaza (Abulhawa says that whoever placed the stickers were not asked to do so by protest organizers). One protester briefly posed in front of the door with a Palestine flag. Then the protest shuffled on.

A few minutes later, a user named Jordan Van Glish posted a 21-second clip of the protest to X, where it quickly went viral. Comments flooded in: “Once again proving that this is about hating Jews,” one user wrote. Stop Antisemitism, a prominent pro-Israel group, posted that it was a “failure” that no anti-riot police were dispatched and no protesters were arrested.

But Philadelphia’s police force told the Guardian that officers observing the march “did not see, hear, or record any threats to persons inside or outside Goldie”, and the department received “no 911 calls or complaints” during the event.

Some marchers have acknowledged how the clip, taken out of context, could have been misinterpreted. “I’d say in hindsight, maybe [the organizers] should have spent another minute explaining why we were stopping there,” says Joe Piette, a photographer who joined the protest. “It would have been better to explain some of the details of the owner of that restaurant. Our mistake was not explaining it on the spot.”

June felt that frustration when they got home that night and saw the clip gaining traction. “So I felt like I should give the context that was missing from that tweet,” they said. June published a post explaining that the restaurant group had raised money for Israel-linked causes and punished pro-Palestine employees. “If you don’t want to be directly funding genocide, you should probably stay away from Goldie” and other CookNSolo restaurants, they wrote.

On Monday, June got a phone call while on the bus to work: they were fired as well. The manager gave no explanation, but June didn’t need to ask why. “Honestly, I didn’t really feel that bad or surprised,” they said. “I had no pride in this job.”

High-profile officials have continued to argue that the protesters were motivated by antisemitism. Governor Shapiro doubled down on his tweet after visiting Goldie and meeting with Solomonov on Wednesday. “A mob protested a restaurant simply because it’s owned by a Jewish person,” the governor claimed. “That is the kind of antisemitic tropes that we saw in 1930s Germany, and it’s the kind of thing we should not tolerate.” In a statement to the Guardian, his office reiterated: “This was not a peaceful protest”.

Two days after the march, Tess Rauscher, a 25-year-old barista at the CookNSolo-owned Israeli cafe K’Far, resigned, citing the company’s fundraiser and firing of Goldie workers, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer. “It was these actions, not the identity of the owner, that changed the nature of my job,” she said.

This article was amended on 8 December 2023 to delete an incorrect reference to a manager taking down an LGBTQ+ flag. Also references to Governor Josh Shapiro attending an event at Zahav on 1 November were deleted. Governor Shapiro’s office have said he was not at the event.

[end article]

TL;DR:

Goldie's restaurant and 2 other restaurants owned by the same famous Israeli chef were part of a general boycott starting in October.

The famous israeli chef, Michael Solomonov, has been directly funding the Israeli military with fundraisers at his various owned resteraunts (including donating over $100,000 in a single day)

Michael Solomonov has also hosted multiple, lavish "going away parties" free of charge for people deploying to go fight in Gaza (you know, just, going on over to help commit genocide!)

Multiple staff were fired for being pro-palestine, including for wearing pins with the Palestinian flag, or wearing the colors of the palestinian flag to work.

June, A jewish staff member who was working when the protestors arrived outside the restaurant, did not feel threatened in any way, affirmed it was a completely peaceful protest, and actually considered stopping their work to go out and join the march, but ultimately decided to stay for the rest of their shift and quietly chant along with the protestors. They were fired a few days later, and not given any explanation.

#long post #bold text #large text #free palestine #palestine #israel #free gaza #michael solomonov #zionism #anti-zionism #signal boost

[rebelwrites]

Seven: The Old Nova Is Out To Play

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till The Wheels Fall Off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

There were only two more days before the fundraiser, ever since Nero had joined the team as another manager, my life had smoothed out and I felt like I could breathe again. There were no longer days where I wasn’t getting any sleep and running on fumes, I now had the time to get a decent night’s rest without the stress of the cafe and bar weighing me into the dirt. It also meant I was able to spend more time with Elenor. We would spend many afternoons cooking dinner for Pops and Jax which in turn led to me actually eating with them rather than grabbing a cereal bar on the way out of the door.

Everything had fallen into a nice little routine, I couldn’t thank Jax enough for getting me some help. When I tried showing my appreciation to Nero for his assistance he brushed it off, scolding me when I wanted to treat him.

“Auntie Nova, ” Elenor shouted from the bottom of the stairs, “come on, we are going to be late.”

Shaking my head, she was just like her father, impatient and had the attitude to go alongside it. Taking one final look at my appearance, I ran my fingers through my hair giving the curls one last shake out before I hummed in satisfaction.

Tonight was open mic night at the bar, meaning my outfit was more on the risky side, it was a style that I hadn’t rocked for a while, I once again felt like the wild, carefree Nova. There was also a part of me that hoped Charles would be at the bar tonight, maybe that was why I dug deep in my closet putting some additional effort in my appearance.

The black skinny jeans clung to my body like it was a second skin, the pop of the red lace bralette stood out against my complexion and the gray checked shirt tied at my waist completed the outfit. Most people would have worn heels with this look but I was never the type of girl to wear shoes that were so high I couldn’t walk in, they would be the literal death of me, so I went for my old faithfuls, the crisp white pair of Nike Air Force 1s. The family staple of shoes, if anyone walked into the house they would think we were sponsored by Nike with the amount of pairs of the trainers that were on the shoe rack.

Open mic night was one of my favorite events we hosted at the bar. Well, I used to love it until my heart was broken, since then I hadn’t picked my guitar up, I had lost the song that my soul was singing. Pops loved it when I used to play and sing around the fire pit, so I knew he was going to be overjoyed when he realized what was happening tonight.

I had to admit ever since Charles and Pierre landed in this small town I called home, I had noticed I was taking a bit more care in my appearance, I refused to leave the house without my hair, makeup and outfit being perfect. This was something Jax had picked up on as well, meaning that I couldn’t escape the teasing, especially as we all lived under one roof still.

Checking my phone for the millionth time today, I felt like I wanted to scream when there were no new notifications on my screen, especially any from Charles. I had no idea why he hadn’t texted me yet. My mind was spinning thinking of all different reasons as to why he hadn’t messaged me, pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind I tucked my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

“I’m coming,” I chuckled, checking one last time that I turned the hair straighteners off, before exiting my bedroom and running down the stairs.

“You look pretty Auntie Nova,” Elenor beamed, linking her small hand in mine whilst I swiped the keys to my truck from the rack hanging by the door.

“Thank you, baby,” I grinned, feeling a lot more confident in myself than I had done in months, “and look at you in your Ferrari hoodie,” I hummed, double checking that the door locked behind us.

“I pinky promised Charles I would show him it,” she giggled, practically dragging me to the truck.

“You making pinky promises with Charles now?” I asked, giving her a helping hand into the front of the vehicle. As cute as she was, she really wasn’t making things easy for me. It was only a matter of time before I would have to confess that I knew who he was. I mean he probably already knew especially with the comment about the photo of me and Elenor behind the bar both rocking Ferrari hoodies.

“He is so cool Auntie Nova,” she said, her grin getting wider with every word she spoke. I guess in some ways this was my fault for introducing her to the world of Formula One and taking her to races when I could. “Did you know he plays the piano?”

“Oh, really?” I said in excitement, playing along for her sake, she didn’t need to know that his piano medleys he released on spotify were something I used to calm myself down with when I was feeling extremely stressed and overwhelmed.

“I told him he should play tonight. He said he would think about it,” she said with a proud smirk on her face. Of course she would ask him to play, however unless he had spoken to Jax to arrange getting a keyboard brought in I had no idea how he could but I didn’t tell Elenor that.

Since Charles had come into the cafe at the end of last week things had changed. Both him and Pierre graced us with their presence every night in the bar. Charles never came up to order food or drink, he always sent Pierre. I didn’t know why I cared so much, the connection I felt with him was mind blowing, I know I turned him down on a date but surely that’s no reason to completely ice me out. The most interaction I got with him this week was small smiles as I passed his table or when I looked up from across the room and he was gazing in my direction.

Was he playing me?

Had he changed his mind?

All I knew I was kicking myself for turning him down when he asked me for dinner.

The journey to the bar didn’t take long, the moment I parked the truck Elenor was tugging at the seat belt trying to get out. She was practically buzzing with excitement to show Charles her hoodie. Her reaction made me smile, over the last week I had noticed she had gotten extremely close to Charles, in a way it was cute but it also meant that when I was at home I couldn’t escape him because Elenor was always talking about him.

Once I had helped her with the seat belt I quickly slipped out of the car, Elenor was obviously feeling impatient as she clambered over the driver’s seat rather than waiting for me to open the passenger door for her. Her small hand wrapped around mine and she dragged me across the parking lot into the bar.

I felt like all the attention was on me due to the dramatic entrance caused by a certain five year old, scanning the bar I noticed that this wasn’t the case. In fact there was only one set of eyes that was causing my skin to heat up, I didn’t need to look to see who it was that was causing me to feel this way.

Charles Leclerc.

Choosing to ignore the feeling I let Elenor guide me through the bar, leading me to Jax. The moment she saw her daddy she dropped my hand sprinting around the room and jumping into his arms. He instantly picked her up placing her on top of the counter, his arms placed either side of her as he smothered her face in little kisses causing her giggles to echo around the bar.

“Doesn’t Auntie Nova look pretty, daddy?” she asked, placing her hands against Jax’s kutte.

Jax turned his attention to me, cocking his brow when he realized what I was wearing. “She doesn’t look pretty baby, she looks phenomenal,” Jax smirked, pressing a kiss against his daughter’s head, “now why don’t you go find Poppy.”

“I know where he is, daddy, he is with Charles and Pierre,” she beamed, as Jax lifted her off the bar top. She didn’t stick around and before we knew it she was at Pops table.

“I see the old Nova is out to play tonight,” Jax winked, grabbing two bottles of beer from the fridge.

“Don’t know what you are on about,” I shrugged, taking the bottle from him. I couldn’t help myself, looking over Jax’s shoulder as I spoke, automatically I locked eyes with Charles as I brought the beer to my lips.

“We both know that’s bullshit, Squirt,” Jax hummed, moving slightly so he was blocking my view from Charles, “this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact he has hardly spoken to you since the cafe?”

I had told Jax about what happened the morning after Charles asked me to dinner, “I dunno,” I sighed, leaning against the counter. “I just don’t get it, he was forward enough to ask me out but now he hasn’t said a word to me. I put myself out there and he hasn’t even text me. ”

“Maybe he didn’t see it? The muffins might not have been for him, for all you know you gave Pierre your number, not Charles,” Jax said softly, he always tried to find a way to stop me spinning out, I couldn’t lie he was pretty good at it, always knowing the things I needed to hear at the time, “have you spoken to him since the cafe?”

“No,”

“It’s a two way street when it comes to conversations,” Jax nodded, pulling the beer bottle to his lips. “Look, you did turn him down for whatever reason, maybe he feels a bit stupid.” The look on Jax’s face told me he knew something which he was keeping from me, raising my brow at him but he didn’t acknowledge my silent question. “Are you trying to get his attention, Nova?”

Letting out a shaky breath I paused for a moment before answering his question. “Yes, no, maybe,” I sighed, downing the rest of my beer, tossing the empty bottle in the trash, “I know I hardly know him as a person but every time his fingers brush against my skin it sends shockwaves through my body. I don’t know what to do.”

“Just speak to him,” Jax said with a soft smile, “oh, don’t worry about working tonight, this outfit is too good to waste,” he chucked, nudging my shoulder, “also I’ve been meaning to ask, did you hide your guitar behind the stage for tonight?”

“Why do you think I’m dressed like this?” I winked, swiping a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, placing it on a black tray along with five glasses and a bottle of apple juice for Elenor. All of a sudden I had a wave of confidence wash over me, whether it was due to my outfit I had no idea but Jax’s words made me realize that I hadn’t attempted to speak to Charles either.

But tonight that was going to change.

I needed to stop living in fear, taking a deep breath. I placed my palms on the counter, giving me the solid leverage I needed to jump over the bar. I could feel Charles’ gaze burning into my soul. I purposely put an extra swing in my step as I maneuvered around the room, trying not to drop the tray.

“Room for a little one,” I hummed, placing the drinks in the center of the table, leaning against the back of the red leather sofa.

“Always,” Pops beamed, placing his hand over mine, squeezing lightly. This week had been a better week for him, yes he still forgot things but at least he knew what year it was. My heart was telling me it was because of Charles and Pierre’s presence in town but I knew in my head that something like that was completely stupid and had no bearing on Pops’ health.

“Boys, I want you to meet my beautiful daughter, Nova,” he beamed proudly. And there it was, the pit in my stomach, my heart sank as Pops introduced me again to them. Flashing them both a weak smile as I sat in the only space available, next to Charles.

“I believe we’ve already met,” Charles grinned, taking my hand in his, bringing it closer to his face. The moment he pressed a singular kiss against my knuckles I felt like my whole body was going to explode. I knew what Charles was doing, he was changing the subject making me focus on something other than Pops forgetting he had introduced me.

His plan was working, all I could focus on was the feeling of his soft lips grazing against my skin, the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine. The whole thing was sending me into a frenzy.

“How’s the town treating you both?” I asked, trying to calm my heart rate down by reaching over to the middle of the table. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured three glasses and two glasses of apple juice.

“Very well, thanks,” Pierre smiled, raising his glass slightly, “happy I stumbled across this place online.”

“Glad to hear that,” I smiled, pulling my own glass up to my lips, taking a large gulp of the amber liquid, feeling the familiar burn in my throat. “I never asked, how long are you boys in town for?”

“Till the 22nd,” Charles hummed.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Jax had jumped up onto the stage, taking center position with the mic. Turning my attention to my older brother, I narrowed my eyes at him just praying he didn’t do something to embarrass me.

“Okay guys, this has been something I know I haven't heard in a while,” Jax spoke into the mic, running a hand over his perfectly kept blonde hair. “The moment I found a guitar badly hidden behind the stage I was shocked to the point I dropped my beer.” Everyone that knew Jax knew that him dropping a bottle was a big deal, the sound of laughter bounced off the walls making me smile. “I could go on but I think this moment has been long overdue, so please put your hands together for my beautiful, yet highly annoying, little sister,” he smirked, throwing me a wink across the room.

“The one and only Nova Teller!”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @celestialams @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#charles Leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x oc #charles leclerc imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller #Jax teller x sister oc

[lonestarbattleship]

February 26, 2023 Update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

Fog covers Battleship Texas in dry dock.

"DRY DOCK TOURS

Yes, we’re still running dry dock tours! We have dates posted until April 2023. For more information please visit: battleshiptexas.org/drydock

Dry dock tour!

SHIP REPAIRS

TORPEDO BLISTERS (Yes, new torpedo blisters ARE going back on) - The addition of new framing for the torpedo blisters has stopped on the ship’s starboard side. Any new frames will be done with modules that will consist of about 9 frames each. They are produced off of the dock and will be brought on and attached to the ship’s hull. We now have the three modules installed and being fitted on the ship.

Modules are being made in the shipyard’s fabrication shop.

More of the blister plate is going on the forward section on the starboard side. The forward sections are almost entirely plated up.

Torpedo blister plating is nearly complete on the forward section on the starboard side of the ship.

Three torpedo blister modules are now being fitted to the ship.

The third module put on the ship. You can see the squared off bottom, which is different from the original design. This helps with maintenance and longevity.

The blisters will be of a slightly different design and square off at the bottom below the waterline. This design change will make the new blisters easier to maintain. Workers have removed most of the aft and midship portions of the port torpedo blister.

FOAM REMOVAL - Foam removal on the port side blisters is complete.

STERN - New plating continues being paced onto the ship’s stern. As the new plates go on, they are welded to the repaired framing done while the ship was still at San Jacinto Battleground State Historic Site in 2013-2014.

Damage to the ship’s stern from water.

Damage to the ship’s stern from water. Foam removal in certain tanks continues within the ship.

Damage to the ship’s stern from water. The square cuts were done during this dry dock period.

HULL - As work continues moving aft, any holes in the ship’s original hull (including areas under the blisters) are being repaired. New plates are added to thinner areas and smaller pin holes are welded up. The ship’s hull on the starboard side is now being primed temporarily. Sandblasting is almost complete on the starboard side.

Blister removal on the port side of the ship.

SCRAP STEEL - Any steel that comes off the ship (and is deemed worthy) will be used in future fundraising. We have already started making prototypes of the new products we will be offering on our store.

The last bilge keel removed from the ship. These will not be going back on.

Torpedo blister removal is nearing the end.

Thank you all for the support and,

Come on Texas!"

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Group Facebook page: link

#Battleship Texas #Update #Battleship Texas Foundation #Battleship #Dreadnought #the last dreadnought #Warship #ship #USS Texas (BB-35) #USS Texas #new york class #February #2023 #drydock #dry dock #Galveston #Texas #Gulf Copper #repairs #my post

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hubb Kitchen 2.0

From Scobie, Endgame:

It was a shaky start for the couple's charitable foundation, too. They launched the Sussex Foundation in the summer of 2019, but a source working on the project later told me that plans for the non-profit were ultimately shelved as Harry and Meghan didn't want to focus on providing grants, an effort that requires constant fundraising. The Archewell Foundation's launch in October 2020 came with grand ambitions to provide something different, but as the months went by they realized again that grants would become the ballast for this foundation as well. No shame in that, and the money given out has gone on to do great things, such as helping move eight thousand individuals out of Afghanistan with the Human First Coalition and providing additional resoruces to the tech-focused civil rights advocacy organization Color of Change. For a couple who want to create change around a myriad of issues, it makes sense that they have so many irons in the fire. But at the time of this writing, two and a half years into the foundation's life, the true purpose and mission of their charitable vehicle is still not completely clear. A lot of everything, but little in terms of major anchoring projects. As it turns out, the grant work they avoided at first has taught them how to support small charities and build new partnerships. Now, said the head of the foundation and former Kensington Palace aide James Holt, a 'significant change' in direction will become more visible over the next two years. Moving forward, programs are being developed with a key thread in all three areas of the foundation's work--mental health. It starts with the couple's efforts to build a better online world, which includes a project and partnership with the Social Media Victims Law Center and families who have suffered the most extreme impacts of social media. Linking back to Harry's media battles, Archewell is also seeking ways to 'restore trust in information.' As well as looking at structural reform, a spokesperson added that they want to use their platform to 'promote and highlight media organizations they think are doing the right thing.' And the third area is uplifting communities. Picking up from Meghan's work supporting victims of the 2017 Grenfell Tower fire tragedy in London, who came together to prepare food for displaced residents and the wider community, the foundation is introducing the sentiment and drive behind the Hubb Community Kitchen to communities across the United States. By mid-2023, ten projects were already quietly in pilot phases (from sewing groups to cooking clubs), with a focus on women-led initiatives supporting Afghan immigrants who fled the Taliban. Archewell's decision to work with William Morris Endeavor (WME), a powerhouse agency headquartered in Beverly Hills, has also helped the duke and duchess accelerate soem of their charitable work. 'It takes a long time to build a lasting legacy but this is their life's work,' said a Sussex spokesperson.

But no, Scobie isn't Meghan's lapdog. He doesn't know six months in advance that she is cooking with Afghan immigrants and there will be a photoshoot on Superbowl Weekend to go with her umpteenth rebranding effort.

#endgame #omid scobie

[labelleizzy]

Today I realized that something annoyed me.

Well, last night, really, was when I realized. Today I decided I was going to make a change.

NBD, well within my sewing skills 🧵🪡 .

I just... Never thought about removing the cuffs from a zip up hoodie before! I've cut sleeves and neck-rings out of tshirts, but this particular mod is a new one. The sleeves have always been too flappy and awkward. Way too long.

Dive into DIY! First I got out my trusty seam ripper (if anyone has the Seam Ripper My Beloved locket gif, drop me a link. It was seriously the MVP of the day. )

Took off the cuffs, and pulled all the loose threads out afterwards. This is a HUGE hoodie, a fundraiser for To Write Love On Her Arms. I've referred to it as "my boyfriend hoodie" and I am not a small woman.

Then tonight after dinner, I used the existing 1/2" fold from the serged connection between cuff and sleeve, pinned it up, threaded my needle, and took a quick running stitch around the cuff. Ditto on the other sleeve.

Found my good sashiko thread, cut a length, split the four strands in half. Being a little more careful with the stitching, I rolled and pinned the first hem, and tacked THAT securely in place on both sleeves.

Here's the result:

It's something *different* and it brings me a kind of joy that feels like punk. Feels like competence. Feels like fuck the normal, I'm doing it my way.

Took about four hours total, but I think this hoodie has gone from "meh" to "YAY"

It's dumb how many little things I've left annoying me, and how with a little effort and my existing skills, I can often resolve that.

Can you fix or change one thing that annoys you today? Brag in the comments, or the tags.

🧵🪡

#sewing #seam ripper #also i love that its basically like a ctrl z of sewing #diy repairs #diy punk #life is diy #get out there #izzy makes art #izzy makes things #izzy writes #izzy's photos #bragging #do the thing #do the thing badly #if you must

[swampgh0stt]

the two things I never stfu about are FNAF & Spider-Man, so here's the AU no one asked for.

The first fundraising event he attended at Harry’s side left Peter feeling more than out of place. Surrounded by people all infinitely wealthier than he could ever hope to be, Peter knew he was well out of his league and clung to Harry like glue. If not for co-founding and running their Emily-May project together, he would have done anything and everything he could to avoid the current company, but he didn’t want to leave Harry all by himself. 

Still, he felt outclassed, and that was even worse. 

Harry had not missed his husband’s anxieties and quickly ushered Peter away to a table in the back, where they huddled close and giggled over champagne together as Harry relayed all the latest gossip and scandals in a hushed tone. Since then, though Peter still felt awkward, he had grown to anticipate these outings together. A spark of excitement ran up his spine, awaiting pettiness from his usually perfect husband-- pettiness not directed at himself, for once. 

And this gala was no different. Once more, they gathered close together and found a corner well enough away from the rest of their affluent company. Harry pointed out the individual for each story-- from rigged award shows, orgies on yachts, family feuds, to paid off government officials. Peter held on to every last word breathed from Harry’s lips, who spoke with increasing excitement and adoration that no one else in the world was privy to. 

“I saved the best for last,” Harry promised with a smile. His lilac eyes shifted to a taller man that Peter recognized: William Afton, the CEO of AftonRobotics, Norman’s greatest competitor. “Congratulations to the new father.” He raised his glass of champagne, still quiet and speaking solely to Peter. “He had a kid recently, with one of his employees. Apparently his wife walked out on him not that long ago and left him with the three kids. His eldest is the same age as the employee too.” 

Peter almost choked on his drink, blinking back the shock. Both sets of eyes fell upon William in the crowd, finding him easily as he stood out amongst the others. “How uncouth,” Harry snickered. “See the pretty little thing hanging off his arm? That’s the sneaky link.” 

Peter’s gaze found its way to a smaller man beside William: white haired, wearing a black silk shirt and a purple vest to match William’s purple suit. The longer Peter stared, the more he realized how… familiar the individual seemed. “Wait…”

Harry tilted his head back, raising a brow. “What’s up?”

“I swear I’ve seen him before…” 

A mischievous grin pulled back on the younger Osborn’s lips. “Oh?”

“Yeah..” Peter leaned back. “Not that long ago.. actually…” 

There was a thunderstorm that night. He chose to go on patrol regardless, feeling urgent with the recent uptick in certain strange appearances and even stranger disappearances.

These mechanical terrors had plagued the city far longer than even Peter would have guessed. They only ever moved at night, with no clear path or pattern between them. They reminded him of the characters at the children’s pizzerias, which had been cropping up since the appearance of Afton Robotics-- but with just enough differences between them that Peter thought… Perhaps this was some jealous competitor wanting to slander the children’s diners. From purple and white bears with blue rabbit hand-puppets, to white and pink foxes, purple ballerinas, and then the red and white clown girl… She was the most aggressive, from Spidey’s experience. Her soft voice would lure victims in and leave no trace behind. He interrupted her attempts the night prior, only to spend the next few hours fleeing death at her hands. Not much scared Peter, but she had a way of getting under his skin. He barely returned home to Harry that next morning. 

The next time he went out brought him to the next robotic menace: Springtrap. 

An over seven foot tall golden rabbit towered over him with ease. To Spider-Man’s knowledge, this was nothing more than a highly sophisticated robot, with claws and sharp teeth, and perhaps a more intelligent AI programming than the others with how he reacted. Brute strength matched Spidey’s every attack. He was quick and just as smart, outwitting the Hero at every turn. But this model had an advantage the other robots didn’t: It somehow possessed telekinesis, which made Peter’s job even harder and more dangerous. 

Hallucinations, elaborate traps, and near death attempts brought Peter right to the edge. In a fit of desperation, he got in close and swung hard. This punch collided with a sickening crack and a spray of blood through the golden suit. The larger rabbit’s body seized and then fell to the ground with a heavy thud, unmoving as a small puddle of blood began to form beneath. It was at that moment Peter realized this was not just a robot like the rest. He had killed someone. 

“No!” 

Spider-Man took a step back as another figure ran out on the scene, scrambling to the body. He whipped around on the Hero, tears in those agonized yellow eyes. “What did you do!?” He shouted, his voice wavering with a sob. The rant that followed was in a language Peter didn’t understand and couldn’t hope to recognize. It was not the same Lakota that Harry and Quentin used, and not any language he would recognize from the streets of New York. Not that it mattered… 

“I’m sorry…” Peter took another step back, his hands raised. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

He didn’t stick around, he couldn’t. The horror of taking a life by complete accident began to settle in deep. If he didn’t leave, it would have irrevocable damage. Peter was kicking himself a week later, when he ran into Springtrap again-- alive and well. The same villain as before; the man in the suit confirmed as much. But Peter had killed him. So, how was that possible? 

That very same question brought the intrigue of many other Rogues around the city crawling back to the streets. Someone had unlocked the secrets to life itself, and everyone was chomping at the bit to get their hands on it. 

Which made Spider-Man’s life much more difficult in the days that followed. This gala was the first reprieve Peter found in a long time. 

“Harry.” His voice dropped low, serious. “That guy was with Springtrap. I wanna go talk to him.” 

Lilac eyes narrowed suspiciously as Harry paused and considered their next options carefully. The obvious answer was that-- William Afton was the man in the suit. But what if there was a slim chance that he wasn’t? And what if he was harboring villains without realizing it? “Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed with a nod. “Follow my lead.” 

Harry stood with a smile, all that Osborn grace returning as he approached William and T’aaku. Peter followed a few paces behind, feeling that familiar anxiety start to twist his gut again as they returned to the other party goers. He watched his husband go through the practiced motions of a formal greeting, watched as T’aaku tensed beside his partner in the presence of another affluent guest. And honestly? Peter could understand that guarded response. He didn’t miss the way William moved closer to T’aaku, as if guarding him, or perhaps staking a claim that was never contested. But Harry was sensitive, empathetic. He knew what motions to go through, to slowly start chipping away at their reservations. 

Standing so close to them, Peter was able to confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt: This was the same mechanic who came running to Springtrap’s aid. Whatever small responses Harry pulled from T’aaku brought an extra level of certainty; that voice had never left Peter’s thoughts, haunting him at night when he remembered the way he easily snapped another man’s neck. Finally, he stepped forward with the intention of introducing himself.

And then Norman joined. 

“William!” His voice boomed over whatever small talk the four found themselves in, dragging their attention to the elder Osborn. Norman always had a way of stealing the spotlight, of putting himself in the center of attention when he so desired it. “It’s so good to see you!” 

“Norman.” A wolfish grin pulled back on William’s lips. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know.” 

Harry and Peter fell quiet, taking a step back while two rival CEOs made the air tense with strained formalities. To Peter, it was like watching two apex predators sizing each other up. From what he knew of Norman, personally, he would consider him the more dangerous of the two. But… that was under the assumption that William was nothing more than a businessman… With all new revelations of T’aaku’s close involvement, he had to wonder: Was William the man in the suit? And just how dangerous was he really? 

“I’m so happy for you!” Norman continued, reaching his prosthetic hand out to pat against the taller man. Patronizing. “Not even Hell itself can keep you away, it seems.” William’s silver eyed glare caught Norman’s lilac set, which were smoldered with a silent challenge that did not slip by Peter’s careful watch. Norman moved his focus from his rival to the man at his side instead, the real object of interest. “How could I be so rude!” he exclaimed, offering a hand in greeting. “I hear you’re the new Mother. Must have smelled the money.” 

T’aaku had reached out to shake Norman’s hand, but quickly retracted with a frown. 

“Dad!” Harry piped up, reminding Norman of his son’s presence. 

“T’aaku, is it?” But Norman ignored Harry’s protests and pushed forward. He even went so far as to grab the mechanic’s wrist, capturing the hand he tried to retract. “I hear you’ve discovered a new element at AftonRobotics. Oscorp is always looking for that type of genius. And the view from the tower is much better than working in the shadows underground, right?” 

“New element?” Peter leaned in, hoping to rescue T’aaku while also harboring some genuine interest. Was this involved in reviving someone from death itself? That would explain Norman’s strong interest. 

“Yes.” But it was William who answered as he slapped his hand over Norman’s, which still held tightly to T’aaku’s. “But Remnant is staying with me, Norman. Sorry. You’ll have to find someone else to plagiarize.”

#william afton #springtrap #norman osborn #harry osborn #peter parker #spider man #marvel #five nights at freddy's #fnaf oc #oc x canon #// #spiderman never alone

[ethereal-engene]

I’ll hold you until you tell me to stop

pairing: bf!seungcheol x self-insert/OC (uses she/her pronouns) + established relationship

genre: angst, fluff, slice-of-life // warnings: mentions of death, dealing with loss, grieving, and a funeral

This is NOT edited & switches in between all types of POVs....

summary: dealing with a loss of a loved one is never easy & Seungcheol knows that but he will his best to help you get through it

word count: ~1.9k

note: as always, this is yet another self-indulgent fic & I hope that anyone who has or is dealing with a loss of loved one that you take care of yourself. I also offer my condolences to all those families who have lost their loved ones in the recent shooting.

a gentle reminder to you who is reading this. I appreciate you and whenever the days start to get cloudy and dark, the sun is still shining behind those clouds.

I send the strength to get through those days. Thank you for existing. And please don’t be afraid to reach out for professional help if you need it. It’s hard but the best and better days for you are still waiting to be lived through.  

The day when I found out that my cousin (in-law?) had passed, I was out dog-sitting with one of my sisters. We had no clue what and how it happened. Other than my oldest sister sending a link to a fundraising page for his funeral services and all.

Just a few weeks ago, my feed and stories was filled with photos of my cousin’s wedding. While I wasn’t close to my cousin due to age difference and location, it was a big surprise to hear of his passing. This cousin who passed married into the family hence why I say cousin in-law. We’ll give him the nickname Angel and my cousin’s nickname Darling. 

When I found out, I didn’t have too much of a reaction. I don’t think I truly processed the news and went on about my day. To think that it wouldn’t hit me hard was naive. Because a few days after, I came across Angel’s sister’s post for him on Instagram. It hit me like a truck. I don’t want to take away any of the attention from Angel’s family, but it struck a chord for me by coming across the post. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if I lost any of my siblings.

They are a group of my favorite people in the world despite their flaws and how annoying they can be. Nothing can replace how much they mean to me. So I suppose I put myself in Angel’s sister’s place and it broke me. There was nothing but full on non-stop tears coming out of me. I could only imagine how much pain and loss she must be feeling. 

I sobbed for a good 15 minutes while I was working. Yes, I know, I’m technically supposed to be on focus mode as I work but I couldn’t help it. It was a slow day ish work day for me. There was a lot going on. Anyhow, I didn’t think too much about this until the day of the funeral.

Sleeping late was not a good choice as I had to wake up earlier to get to the start of the service on time. Nonetheless, I don’t think even if I got enough sleep, it could have prepared me for how much I was going to bawl my eyes out.  

On the way to the funeral home, with Cheol driving, I was staring off into space. Not quite thinking of anything but also these thoughts weren’t nothing either. He’d ask if I was okay and I couldn’t respond verbally so I nodded. He can’t remember the last time that he’s seen me like this. 

Cheol knew that there wasn’t a point if he kept pushing forward because it’d lead to nothing new for him. So he let the silence fill the air and continues driving. When we arrive, we quietly greet my sisters and take our seats in the far back. 

Not long after taking our seats, the service starts. Listening to the pastor and then speeches from Angel’s loved ones. That’s when the waterworks start to turn on along with sniffles. Seungcheol takes notice and brings my head so that it’s laying on his shoulder. Rubbing my shoulders too. He had a feeling that it would not be the last time he’d be doing this today. 

Not to sound like he was complaining or anything. Cheol didn’t mind it, he knew how tough it would be. I didn’t know Angel enough but the times that I met him, his face was always smiley. As a friend said today, his smile took up half of his face and maybe that’s what made it so contagious. So you couldn’t help but smile back. 

If I could describe it, it reminds me of a child’s smile. In addition to that, the times I’ve met him, he was kind and easy-going. Even though, looks can be deceiving, his smiles never felt disingenuous. Anyhow, hearing these speeches it paints a bigger picture as to who he was and all the love & joy Angel brought to those around him. 

The love that they had for Angel was so heartfelt but so was the anguish laced in their voices. How funny and cruel it is that the last time they gave Angel a little speech about him was at his wedding. The things we do to celebrate and commemorate our loved ones mirror each other in ways I sometimes wish they didn’t.

After hearing and saying some prayers to Angel as he flies back home, it came down to the time for us to bid our final goodbye. Walking down to see him one last time, with Cheol holding my hand, once again brought tears to my eyes. Exiting the funeral home and trying my best to take deep breaths to control my breathing. It was hard. I eventually got the hang of it but seeing Angel there felt surreal. Maybe not surreal? Maybe as a gentle reminder that this is all indeed real, which I’m not too sure I wanted to be. 

Time passed by and before we knew it, it was time to make our way back to our cars to drive to the burial service. Returning to the car, Cheol handed me a tissue and silence took over the sound in the car again. You’d catch him a couple times stealing glances at you. Quietly but surely finding out what to say or do next for you. Making sure that you felt comforted and not alone during this time.

In the meanwhile, he’d let you hash it out on your own first. Plus he knew that he’d able to bring you extra comfort at home, out of the public eye. Cheol and you were both the type of people to keep most of your love life under wraps. It just makes the things more special and meaningful. 

Arriving at the cemetery, the service continued forward with additional prayers led by the pastor. As the service continues and comes to a close, Cheol’s shirt has become your personal tissue — minus the blowing of your nose part. He’s still rubbing your back and holding you close as you cry.

After dropping in the rose & watching the dirt fill what was once an empty hole now accompanied by Angel’s casket, concluded the service. It seems like I was just unaware of where the rest of my sisters were until my brother in-law pulled us to be with them.

Going to them and one of my older sisters held me as I cried more. It got somewhat bad to the point where my cries started to make noise. And now instead of only one of my older sisters consoling me, it was two of them. One of them still holding me and the other rubbing my back & telling me it was okay.

Throughout the entire service, my cries weren’t that bad but perhaps the concluding moments were the hardest for me. I had placed one of my hands over my mouth to muffle the sounds. I felt embarrassed but I couldn’t help it. They weren’t terribly loud but it sure felt like it.

My brother in-law ended up getting me a tissue as per request from my oldest sister. Cheol was talking to my sisters and cousins in the mean time. Just as he was doing in the car, he’d steal a look or two at you to check up on you. But knowing that you were in your sisters presence and arms put him at ease.

The time passes by some more & we say our goodbyes to my cousins and sisters. On the drive home, Cheol decides play to some light music. The volume is on low and he does in hopes of lifting up your spirits.

Once y’all are home, y’all change and wash the clothes. You don one of his hoodies and shorts while he changed into sweats and a sleeveless shirt. He’s not completely sure on what your next steps are since the service is over, he can still tell that it’s on your mind. However, Cheol doesn’t have to worry anymore because you softly ask him to hug you.

And so that is exactly what he does. He hugs and hold you firmly. Whispering if you’d like to move to the couch to cuddle and you whisper a yes. And to the couch y’all cuddle.

Somehow you two fall asleep… Well okay, you fell asleep first and Cheol couldn’t move because you were asleep, but he too was tired from today. It was a lot, even if he also didn’t know Angel that well.

When you woke up, you took notice of his arms still being around you. Knowing that made you feel safe. You ended up staring at him with a lovestruck gaze and his kiss to your forehead brings you out of it.

“My love, your staring is a little too loud”, only for you to smack him and pouting.

“Okay, I’ll just look at other people then” said with a lighthearted tone. Now it was his turn to pout and sulk. “I’m joking baby! You know I only have heart eyes for you.” Kissing him on the cheek.

“Anyways, my love. I hope you know that I’ll hold you until you tell me to stop.” He stated while holding eye contact with you. These words ,(it’s a sentence I know but bare with me), of comfort made you soft. Laying your head back down to his chest & snuggling into it as if you were cat.

Whispering back to him “I appreciate you and love you so much more than you know”.

True to his words, he didn’t let go of you until you told him to. As the hours passed by, y’all did some small activities and chores around the house. One of those activities included playing SEVENTEEN’s new album and dancing along to it.

Dancing to it in the kitchen as he tried to teach you the HOT point choreo, before he decided that life is too short to take things seriously all of the time. And so the dance party was filled with free style dance moves. Besides there technically isn’t a wrong way to dance.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about SEVENTEEN as a group, they continue to always bring a new type of music onto the table with each comeback. It never fails to amaze you.

Anyhow, a goodnight kiss is given before y’all fall asleep. However, the thoughts between you two didn’t quite stop yet.

Seungcheol took a mental note to be on the lookout for your moods and mannerisms. As I tend to sometimes think about what has recently happened and cry about it. While he knew it was okay that you cried and let out your emotions, he didn’t want you to fall down a rabbit hole of questions.

He’ll save you or you’ll save yourself but sometimes it gets hard.

Anyways, Seungcheol’s hugs and presence gives you a special type of comfort. It would never be comparable or the same to my sisters but it came in pretty damn close.

I’ll be forever thankful for all that Seungcheol has done & will do. Especially during tough times like these.

Thank you for reading this.

I debated if I should I guess publicly publish this but hopefully this maybe help anyone who might be going through losing a loved one as well. Plus I suppose this how I’m trying to cope.

To my cousin, Angel, rest in peace & I hope that you have found not only the answer(s) you were looking for but also a peace of mind. We already miss you so much and love you so much.

Please take care of yourself and thank you again for existing.

signing off with love

- ash

#k radio! #kflixnet #klibrary #ficscafe #underworldnet #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x OC #Seventeen imagine #seventeen imagine #seventeen #seventeen s.coups #s.coups x reader #s.coups x y/n #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fluff #seventeen fluff

[cha0ticspacebi]

You've Got Desire, So Let It Out: Chapter 3

You love your job. Being a teacher is what you've always wanted to do. But being in charge all day can be draining. You are looking for someone to take that control away for a while. When Robin and Steve set you up with Eddie, an old friend from high school, sparks fly! One day you ask Eddie to come volunteer in your classroom and he's more than happy to oblige. But what happens when the inevitable discipline issue arises and you have to use your teacher voice in front of him for the first time? Let's just say Eddie enjoys it a bit too much.

☆Tags: 21+ MDNI, switch Eddie Munson, switch reader, BDSM, kinky sex, choking, dirty talk, dom/sub, impact play, bratting, degradation, praise, humiliation, restraints, mean dom Eddie, overstimulation, orgasm control

Chapter 3/12 ☆ Previous chapter → Next chapter

☆ You can find me over on A03 as Cha0ticBi ☆ Master list link! ☆

“Have a good summer!”

“Get lots of rest, don’t think about this place until August!”

You laughed with your coworkers as you all headed out to the parking lot on the last day of school. Everyone sharing with one another how they planned to spend the next eight weeks. Some people will be going on family vacations with their kids, others will just be staying home and doing absolutely nothing. The rare few who signed up for teaching summer school are preparing to be back much sooner than the rest.

But when they asked you? All anyone was interested in was your new boyfriend.

You and Eddie had been officially dating since spring break. One day about a month later, he came to pick you up after work when your crappy car wouldn’t start. After that he was all anyone wanted to talk about. Some good and some not so. Some of your coworkers would give you concerned looks, even going so far as to make the occasional passive aggressive comment, “Well as long as you’re happy dear” or “You know I heard he was the leader of a satanic cult when he was younger.” Some don’t even try to hide their distrust of him, ”I went to high school with him, he was a drug dealer. Be careful.” 

Something that many outsiders aren’t aware of is that teachers are just as cliquey as their students. There’s the nerdy teachers, the traditional teachers, the gossipers, the principal’s pets, the jocks, the so-called new age radicals trying to indoctrinate the kids with kindness and acceptance— the list goes on and on. The staff at a school takes on a life of its own separate from that of the student body. Just last month, during the fundraiser to raise money for the dance team’s summer program, one of the lunch staff went around to certain teachers asking them to submit their orders in support of her granddaughter. Thus ensuring her victory and subsequent free trip to the skating rink. Teachers can be subject to the same drama they try to deter their students away from. 

Having grown up in Hawkins, Eddie provided a new perspective on some of your students and coworkers. He loved listening to your stories after work because, as it turns out, he went to high school with some of the parents of the students you teach. His face when you first mentioned how thrilled you were to finally be saying goodbye to delightful little Jason Carver Jr. was priceless. Good thing even before knowing how important it was, you had spent the school year teaching Jason Jr to accept people for their differences and how to be a good friend to everyone because he certainly wasn’t getting it at home.   

Learning about Eddie’s life before you moved here was a little bit of a double edged sword. Hearing all about the shenanigans he and his Hellfire club got into always puts a smile on your face. But hearing about how the rumors you’d heard from your coworkers got started, about hellfire being called a satanic cult, hurt. A lot. Eddie tried to put on a brave face when he would talk about it and, even though you noticed a few sharp huffs or quick dismissals of those events as being just high school shit, you didn’t press the matter.  

Just like your students, you were ready for the summer break. You were only really close to a few of your fellow teachers so they were the only ones who knew what your real plans for the summer were. Driving home the excitement built! Your bags had been packed for days and all the arrangements made. You were going on tour with Corroded Coffin! 

The boys had booked nearly a dozen shows and you were tagging along as the official poster girl. You’d be spending the next four weeks in and out of dive bars, crappy hotels, and driving in Eddie’s van hoping that it held together just one more mile. You were so excited! Robin was going to be on cat sitting duty, taking good care of Ozzy. 

When you got home she was already here. You hurried in and tossed your school bag where it would sit forgotten until back to school time rolled around. You practically ripped the clothes off your body and changed into your freshly printed Corroded Coffin t-shirt.

You and Eddie spent one night brainstorming ideas to help them get their big break. After hours and hours finally it clicked, the answer had been right there the whole time. Even world famous rock stars make money by selling merch! After drummer Gareth, who also happened to be an amazing artist designed a shirt you got a batch printed. They came in just in time before leaving.

”How’s it look?” You modeled it for Robin. 

She merely nodded, “It’s nice,” continuing to dangle a small fish on a string in front of a very excited Ozzy, “Eddie’s been blowing up my phone all day telling me to let him know when you get home. He’s so damn needy! I don’t know what you’ve done to him but he’s like a fucking lovesick puppy.” 

The bell on your apartment door buzzed. Eddie was here already. Robin shook her head with a smile, “Go. Ozzy and I will be fine, won’t we?” She cooed at the big fuzzy baby currently twisting all over the carpet beside where she was laying, hell bent on catching this fish. 

Biting your lip was slowly becoming a bad habit. You gave her an awkward, lopsided floor hug and thanked her for taking care of your place while you’re gone, “Ahh! This is it, I’m leaving. See you in a month!”

Your heart raced as you hurried down the stairs. You hadn’t felt this level of anticipation since making the decision to move to Hawkins. Eddie stood outside the door. You dropped your bags and jumped into his arms. Laughing at his shocked expression when he somehow managed to catch you. His strong arms felt so good squeezing around you.

“How was your last day?” Ever the gentleman, he picked up your bags as you recounted the joys of packing up your room and the frustration that you’ll just have to pull it all back out come fall, but that was future you’s problem. He found space in between the equipment for your bags and you were off. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were all driving in a separate car following behind you.

Organization was one of the things you pride yourself on. It’s part of the reason you liked Eddie’s contrasting spontaneous personality, not to mention another thing you liked having taken away when you’d kneel for him. You’d jokingly one day called yourself the band manager but Eddie took it and ran. He loved that you helped them stay organized. You knew exactly when and where they were playing, and where you’d be staying afterwards for every night of the trip. You had an overnight driving schedule planned between a few of the back to back shows to save money on hotel costs. You had a binder with reservation slips, deposit receipts, and booking agreements from venues. The first show was tomorrow at an independent brewery not that far from your old apartment in Indianapolis. After a few nights in the city, it was on to Illinois for a few shows, working your way across the top of Indiana, into Michigan, back down for one show in Ohio and then back home to Hawkins.

“I may have broken a rule sir,” you opted to wait until passed the moment of no return. You were already on the road and there was nothing he could do about it.

He eyed you carefully, “I appreciate the honesty sweetheart. What rule did you break?” 

“Well, as much as I love your friends, five people crammed in a room is tight–”

His eyes followed the curve of the road as he turned onto the freeway, “You just don’t want to break a law that millions of people break daily Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes.”

“The room said it sleeps four people! And so for my own piece of mind, I may have splurged and paid the difference for a bigger room. Hey, you get to benefit too!” You quickly tried to defend your action of keeping a secret from him. 

His face fell, “You paid for the upgrade yourself? For the entire trip?” It wasn’t often that Eddie called you by your first name. He loved terms of endearment, arguably a bit too much. But when he did it this time, it felt like a child being scolded. Full name announced with such authority, “The difference had to be at least a couple thousand dollars!”

“Well, not all the hotels offered suites so some nights we do have to go against my better instincts, break the law and someone will be sleeping on the floor.”

His sharp stare out from the corner of his eye told you that he didn’t share your sentiment of, well it could be worse . He shook his head with a sigh, “You should have told me. Especially since you paid for the difference yourself which tells me it wasn’t in the budget.”

You pleaded with him, “But Eddie, I thought you’d like having a few nights where we could have at least the semblance of alone time. I mean four weeks is a long time to go without sex.”

He wanted so badly to hide his smile. He wanted to keep up the stern, disappointed father look, but he couldn’t, “When’s the first night we get our own space?”

“Tonight actually. The hotel I booked is between the bar and my old apartment. There’s a really good restaurant nearby. I thought I could show you boys.”

“Good,” his hand gripped so tightly into your thigh that it caused your whole body to shake, “Because for breaking a rule and keeping a secret from me you are in trouble, little miss. Maybe you’ll think twice about breaking my rules again.”

You leaned far back in the seat and put your bare feet up on the dash, “Oh and just how are you going to make me follow all your rules?”

Without missing a beat he reaches his hand down below you and smacks the sliver of exposed ass, “Because I’ll put you over my knee until you do.”

Work felt a million miles away as your journey into adventure began. It didn’t take long for your mind to switch into summertime mode. Your whole world for the next month was Eddie and his band. Eddie didn’t wake you when you fell asleep after only 30 minutes into the two hour drive to the city. His gentle touch alerted you awake only when you’d arrived. 

Your eyes were still shut when you felt his breath on the nape of your neck, “Hey pretty girl, we’re here.”

You got checked into your room and brought in your luggage, Eddie refusing to leave his precious guitar in the van with the rest of the equipment. He gave you another disapproving shake of the head when you led him into the attached bedroom.

The door was ajar and you heard the boys talking as you set down your bags, “Who died and made you king Munson?” Gareth complained. “Yeah why do you get the big bed?” Jeff added.

You yelled back, all the while smiling up at Eddie, “Because his queen made all the reservations! Stop whining, you boys will be fine out there!”

Eddie slung the guitar bag off his shoulder and onto the plush mattress. Yelling as he practically devoured you, “Yeah just flip a coin to see who gets their own bed and besides now you don’t have to hear us!”

A fury of ugh gross, keep it in your pants man , filled the room. Eddie didn’t care though he didn’t even bother going over to close the door before getting closer to your ear, “You better behave yourself at dinner tonight or the boys aren’t going to get any sleep. These walls aren’t thick enough to hide all the noises you’ll be making.”

“Of course sir,” you made sure to whisper as you smirked up at him.

After a brief rest in the room, you headed back towards the lobby to go to dinner. All of them were following your lead as you led them down the block.

“Is this place far?” Grant asked.

You shook your head, “No, not too far.” You raised your arm to point out a large apartment complex on the opposite side of the street, “That’s my old building. Man, it feels weird being back here. I haven’t been into the city since I moved.” Eddie’s hand wrapped around your waist, following your finger as you point out highlights, “I used to go to this place all the time after work. They have good food. I promise the short walk will be worth it.”

They all fell into an easy conversation. They talked and laughed, recounting stories of the last time they’d played here. As you walked along the street, you felt yourself just content listening, enjoying the time that you could spend with Eddie and his friends. Something simple and meaningful that was lacking in your last serious relationship.

The restaurant wasn’t too crowded when you arrived and after being seated you ordered drinks. Eddie opting for a local beer and you sticking with your signature long island.

When the waitress walked away, having delivered the amber liquid, Gareth just couldn’t help himself, “Damn! It’s still so weird seeing a teacher drink. Just think Munson, how many of our teachers do you think we drove to drink?”

The whole table laughed, Eddie’s hand had scarcely left your body, right now it sat wrapped around your shoulder, “Ms. O’Donnell probably drank a whole bottle of champagne the year I finally graduated, just thrilled to be rid of me!”

You took another drink, “Don’t even get me started on my soapbox. You do know that teachers are normal people, right?”

“You choose to work with kids,” Jeff retorted, “You’ve gotta be at least a little crazy to choose that. Speaking from experience, most kids are idiots.”

You shrug, “If I’m a little crazy so be it. I mean I did go home with Eddie the first night I met him. Didn’t exactly follow my own stranger danger doctrine there did I?”

You felt the pressure of his fingers on your shoulder change ever so slightly. Not enough to be noticed but he was definitely sending you a message beyond words, “You know you love me sweetheart. I’m full of irresistible charm!”

“Still cocky and insufferable as ever,” you teased, “Has he always been like this?”

“Careful with your next words gentleman. Keep in mind I hold the fate of your D&D characters in my cocky, insufferable hands,” Eddie warned. With each repeated word, the pressure changes again, giving you precisely the reaction you were looking for. Pushing his buttons at the most inopportune times gave you both the best kinds of thrills. 

Just as you were finishing your meals, laughing at Eddie making silly faces while they regaled stories from their high school years, the color drained from your face. You looked up to a very unpleasant sight. Your ex boyfriend had walked in. 

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Eddie consoled you.

The lump in your throat went down hard, “You see that guy over there that just walked in? Pretty little brunette with him?” He nodded. Every face at the table not so subtly turned and stared.

“He and I dated all through high school and most of my time in college.”

Eddie’s possessiveness was one of his many endearing qualities that you absolutely adored. He considered you his precious jewel that everyone else was just lucky to gaze upon. The way in which he moved his chair closer to yours and pressed your hips together, creating a small bench with the two wooden chairs, sent electricity through your body. 

Your voice got quiet as you tried not to stare at him, “I thought for a while there we might get married, boy would that have been a mistake.” As if reading your thoughts, he turned and spotted you sitting there at the table. 

While you contemplated a reaction, Eddie took initiative. He curled his finger, hooked your chin and lifted your lips to his. The kiss communicates so much with a simple pressing of skin to skin. Eddie’s gentle toying with your lips reminding you that whatever may have happened between the two of you didn’t matter to him, perhaps drawing a light dusting of blush to your cheeks to show that boy what he was missing. You were Eddie’s now and that was all that mattered. Your eyes closed and the sounds of the restaurant vanished. You let yourself fall into his hands. Trusting him to take care of you in this moment.

When you resurfaced, you felt flushed. Not sparing him another glance, you finished your meal with your boyfriend and new friends.

“So I’ve wanted to join in a dungeons and dragons game for like a month now,” back at the hotel room you pulled out a bag you had packed, unbeknownst to Eddie, with all of his dungeon master gear, “Now that all my adult responsibilities are put on hold until August 21 and before we are all completely exhausted from hotel hopping and becoming famous rock stars, I request both dungeons and dragons!”

“As you wish princess,” Eddie took a seat on the floor at the head of the coffee table in the center of the common area.

“Do you think Wheeler and Henderson will be mad if we play The Cult of Vecna without them?” Gareth asked.

Eddie waved him off, “We’ll just do something else.” He flipped through one of his many books and after finding the page number he was looking for and setting up his other materials you sat by his side patiently waiting with several blank papers and a pencil in front of you.

“I’m ready!”

You must have pleased him because he couldn’t hide a chuckle, “You are so damn cute. But I’ve got some bad news sweetheart. You can’t play without a character.”

“Hm?” You looked at him with crinkled brows, then down to your papers, “Oh!” quickly switching the order of the pages, revealing a full character sheet, complete with doodles of various items as well as your druid’s pet owl. 

Jeff grabbed the character sheet, “Ed you didn’t help her with this?”

“Why would he have?” you snatched it back, “You think girls can’t play nerdy games? I’ve had Miss Lady Octavia Loveheart III created for weeks!”

Eddie had been quiet during this exchange. His mouth agape. You looked back to him, “So can we play now sir .”

You could have heard a pin drop even on the soft carpeting beneath you. Eddie had never explicitly told you not to call him sir in front of his friends but it was an unspoken expectation. You knew that Steve and Robin were aware of his kinky desires but you were pretty sure his bandmates were ignorant to them. Not that they seemed to realize there was anything unusual with what you’d just said. They most likely assumed you were just teasing him as they had seen you do many times before when you’d meet Eddie after band practice or when you’d all go out for a drink.

Maintaining his composure, Eddie finally spoke with a dangerous calmness, “Sure pretty girl we can play now, I just need one more thing. It wasn’t in this bag though, can you come help me see if it ended up in one of the other bags.”

You lips pressed thin and you simply nodded before getting up and following behind him like a shy puppy. He must not have wanted to raise suspicions with his friends because once again he left the door slightly ajar but that didn’t stop him from taking a quick hold on your throat as soon as you were alone. 

“Listen to me very closely,” his voice was so low you almost didn’t hear him, “You are not to call me sir outside of play again.” His thumb pressed firmly on the side of your throat and you felt the pumping of blood harden under the pressure.

“But I called you sir that night at the bar and that was in public,” managing to speak, you still chose to sass him even when you knew perfectly well what he meant.

“Such a smart ass,” His hand gripped tighter, “That was before we had decided that you’d be mine. You know what it does to me hearing you say that. I won’t repeat myself, do you understand me?”

A tiny voice squeaked out, “Yes.”

He got close. His lips barely touched the peach fuzz covering your earlobe, “Since you like saying it so much– yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

“I trust we won’t have any more of this sassy attitude tonight will we?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl.”

You’d never understand how Eddie flipped that switch so fast, one second he’s got you by the throat controlling you with just his voice and the next he’s sitting around a table leading a dungeons and dragons campaign like nothing ever happened. Weaving the epic tale of a dilapidated town located at the base of an ancient castle, shrouded in a mysterious mist. You’ve all received personalized letters of invitation by the townmaster calling for your assistance. While exploring and gathering information from the locals, your party encounters an old wood cutter’s cottage on the edge of town.

“You hear faint voices coming from inside but the door is locked and no one answered your knock,” Eddie explains.

“I want to look along the edge of the house for any cracks or holes,” you roll for perception and pass his check.

“Sweetheart you see a very small crack just to the right of the door frame. Looks to be perhaps just natural weathering. Wear and tear showing the cottage’s age.” 

“Fantastic, I want to wild shape into a mouse.”

The boys had been doubting from the start that this was your first time playing, but now they just flat out didn’t believe you. Not that they were complaining, you had offered them a solution to the first real problem you've encountered.

Eddie waves his hand to you, “You do that. Gentleman as you stand investigating the door, the druid you met only a few hours ago vanishes in a cloud of shimmery green smoke. Left in her place sits a common looking reddish-brown field mouse. You watch as it scurries across the ground and slithers into a small crack in the facade.”

“What do I see inside?” You sit up eagerness filling your voice as you interrupt Eddie’s description.

“Patience my dear,” Eddie raises a brow at you before continuing, “The cottage is quaint inside. A fireplace with a deep smoldering fire that looks to have been burning for hours. There’s a large hand crafted wooden table in the center of the room and a bubbling pot sitting atop the wood burning stove.”

You’re all for descriptive storytelling. You’re always reminding your students to add adjectives and creative language to make their writing more interesting. Based on his song lyrics that drive you absolutely wild as he sings about feeling insane because no one around him understands him and his immersive dungeons and dragon’s narrative, you’d be willing to bet Eddie excelled in English during school. But right now you just wanted him to get to the point and mention the people. 

“You said we heard voices! Do I see anyone?” A gasp breaks up the discovery you think you’ve made, “Are they invisible?”

He laughs, “If you’d stop interrupting me you’d know that there is a staircase to your right and now that you're inside you can clearly hear two distinctly different voices coming from upstairs.” 

Grant interjects, “What are they saying?”

Eddie tries to continue only to be interrupted once more, “Octavia—“

“Miss Lady Octavia Loveheart if you please,” you put on a fake royal sounding accent as you correct him. The word sir edging your tongue as it almost slips out again.

He jumps to his feet all for the sake of bowing to you, “My apologies m’lady! Miss Lady Octavia Loveheart, you hear the voices discussing some odd happenings and strange sightings the past nights. Shadow people darting across the rooftops, folks going missing.”

“I go up the stairs and try to listen better.”

Eddie started to describe the men you see talking, “The stairs are wide and it takes your tiny mouse feet a good moment to make it all the way up the stairs but at the top you see light coming from an open door. As you round the corner into the room, you see a man who upon first glance appears to be a doctor.”

“What do his shoes look like?”

“Pardon?” Eddie stares wide eyed.

“His shoes? Do they have laces, are they boots, is he barefoot?”

“Does..it matter?”

“I don’t trust people who wear shoes with laces. Laces are like capes, they can snag on things, come loose, or trip the wearer. Not practical.” You point at your character sheet, “See? I put it in character traits.”

You spent the next several hours inquiring as to everyone’s footwear and gathering vital information that may or may not lead to the solving of your task at hand. You can’t recall a time you’d had more fun playing a game. But you feel your eyes getting heavy. You try to fight it back, but you can’t help it. You yawn.

“Aww is my pretty girl getting sleepy?” Eddie rubs your knee from under the coffee table, “We don’t have to finish tonight— in fact I’d be shocked if you did. We should get some rest anyways. Tomorrow is the first of many shows!” Eddie was clearly too excited to sleep as he made no effort to get up and move right away, “This is it boys! Corroded Coffins first official summer tour!”

You yawned again, “You’ll be great!”

Considering this would be home for the next three days, you didn’t bother scolding Eddie for not cleaning up the table before he carried you off into the bedroom that, despite his initial reservations, he was very thankful for.

Leaving Gareth, Jeff, and Grant to battle for the solo bed privileges, you and Eddie crawled under the soft comforter. His voice filling you with want as he whispered in your ear, “Don’t forget sweetheart, you still need to be punished for breaking a rule. Are you up for it tonight or should I punish you tomorrow night after I’m all worked up and sweaty from performing?”

“I’m up for it tonight sir. I’m sorry again for not telling you right away but,” you snuggled into the mattress further, “I don’t exactly see you complaining.”

He reached his hand up and twisted a lock of your hair in his fingers, “You still should have talked to me about it. I’m not very happy that you spent so much of your own money just to come on this trip with me.” He got quiet for a minute, “You didn’t have to come with us you know. Summer is supposed to be your time to like, relax isn't it? Spending a month crammed in a van, hopping between bars and hotels with four nerdy musicians isn’t exactly a relaxing get away.”

“Eddie,” you lifted yourself up and hugged him tightly, “You told me that honest communication is important right?” He nodded, “Then I need you to believe me when I say there is nowhere else I’d rather be spending my break.” 

He tried to smile but you could tell he was still deep in thought. You hoped your playful remark would help him feel better, “I thought I was the one being punished? You look more like you're punishing yourself.” 

He let out a quiet chuckle into the darkness, “You’re right sweetheart. Let’s fix that shall we.” He leaned in really close to your ear, “I’m going to tease that perfect pussy with my fingers until you come but as I’m sure you know we have company in the next room and they need their rest before our big opening show tomorrow,” You felt yourself shudder at his words, “You better not make a sound. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

His fingers against your bare stomach cause your skin to tingle as he slowly glides down into your pants and cups your pussy in his hand. A quiet shh whispered once again reminding you to be quiet. You feel his cold rings against your sex as he presses his middle finger past your outer lips, exposing the wet interior. 

“So wet for me already pretty girl,” he nips at your neck, “Since this is a punishment I’m not going to touch that sweet clit until you’re begging for it. I want you a silent, empty whispering mess. So close to screaming out but knowing that if you do, the others will hear you.”

His finger curved and hooked further into you and began slowly pressing in towards your hole. Your body leaned into him, mouth hanging open. The only thing escaping are voiceless, heavy, breathy moans. More than once when you feel your focus slipping he catches you with a simple good girl, you’re doing so well in your ear. Feeling encouraged, you open your legs further for him, wetness spilling into his palm. Muscles contracting, pulling a second finger from him inside. You grind on his hand.

He laughs, low and pleased in his throat, “So greedy. Does my pretty girl need more hm?”

You look up into his eyes and plead without a sound. Lustful eyes blown wide, mouth hanging open, you were doing your best really. Channeling all those little whimpers that wanted to show themselves into a twitch of the lip or a tightening of the eyebrows but– ahh, one little noise escaped.

“Oh,” his fingers stopped, “I know baby, it’s so hard to be quiet isn’t it. You were doing so well.”

Your heart sank as he pulled his wet fingers back, “Look at this mess you made.” He brought them to your lips, “Good girls clean up after themselves.” With no more warning he shoved his dirty fingers into your mouth. His eyes staring longingly into yours as he fucks your mouth with his ring and middle fingers. You eagerly suck and lick at them. Tasting yourself on every inch.

“If you can be a good girl tomorrow, on your best behavior all day, I’ll make you come so hard after the show, you’ll be crying. How does that sound?”

Your dry throat cracked as you tried to keep your voice down, “I’ll be good sir I promise!”

“Hm, I know you will,” he kissed your forehead, “because if you don’t you won’t be coming for the rest of the trip. Now get some sleep, I need you well rested for tomorrow.”

“Goodnight sir,” you cuddled up to his chest, savoring the feeling of his arms surrounding you.

For being wannabe rock stars these boys sure did wake up early. You must have been more tired than you thought because you don't even remember Eddie getting up. You heard hushed voices coming from the other room, they were fuzzy and unclear but you imagined with a lovesick smile that Eddie was threatening their lives if they so much as sneezed too loud and woke you up. 

Hotel coffee just never hits the same but that doesn’t mean you are saying no to it when Eddie offers you a cup after you emerge from the bedroom. Anticipation for the show tonight fills every moment of the day. It moves slowly at first, then as soon as you step outside to drive the van to the bar everything happens in rapid succession.

The bar they were playing was newer and loved featuring up and coming artists of all kinds. You’d been here a few times but seeing the backstage setting was very different. Watching Eddie in work mode was such a treat. He took his job very seriously. Regardless of what society might say concerning his chosen line of work, he poured his heart and soul into making sure that every show was worthy of the audience’s time. You did your best to help them set up but mostly you just shamelessly stared at your boyfriend’s back and shoulder muscles flex beneath his cut off Van Halen shirt as he helped lift the various pieces of Gareth’s drum set into place. That shirt’s become a recent favorite of his and you weren’t complaining. With a kiss goodluck you headed out to the bar to take up your main responsibility for the evening, running the merchandise table. 

Before the show started you had a few people come up and ask you questions, the usual, What kind of music are they playing, where are you from, but no sales. You were feeling pretty down until the lights dimmed and a crowd started gathering.

Watching Eddie perform always sent sparks flying through you. After the second song you sold your first t-shirt! Just seeing the people watch and appreciate his music was worth the trip alone.

“So what? Are you some groupie now?”

A voice cut like a knife through the crowd, nausea bubbled in your stomach when you looked away from the stage and saw a very unwelcome sight walking towards you.

“Metalhead freak up there made quite the public display at the restaurant last night,” he was right in front of the table now, “Quite the downgrade if you ask me.”

“What do you want Billy?” You never even considered the possibility that he’d be around, let alone that he’d be at the same restaurant and the same bar back to back.

He clutched at his chest feigning shock, “All our time together and that’s how you greet me after a year? How’s Hicksville Hawkins treating you?”

“It’s fine. Are you going to buy something or did you just come over here to cause trouble?” He had always been a little on the jealous side so you're honestly not surprised that seeing you with Eddie last night set him off. However you had made it abundantly clear that there was nothing left between the two of you.

He shrugged, “I just came to see what was so good about this guy that you moved on so fast.”

“It’s been over a year Billy,” you were starting to get annoyed. Eddie’s voice was echoing through the bar from on stage encouraging you. Give him hell honey, he seemed to say. You crossed your arms, “I made it pretty clear that we were over. I’m a grown adult and yes I met someone new.”

He sneered up at the stage, almost taunting Eddie, willing him to look over and see him talking to you. It worked.

You looked up at Eddie and blew him a kiss, quelling the sudden fire in his eyes, letting him know I’ll be fine. Keep singing. You turned your attention back in front of you, “What about you? Where’s your pretty brunette friend? Could you not make her come either?”

Billy had never been violent with you but the twitch in his hand made you think for the first time since meeting him when you were young that he might actually snap, “I shoulda known. He probably puts up with all your weird sex shit doesn’t he? You’re probably only with him because you’re both freaks.”

“Thank you for your support Indianapolis!,” Eddie gripped the mic with both hands and looked over at you, “Sweetheart? Come up here and say hi!”

He walked over and offered you a hand up, enveloping you in his arms. You look out and can’t help but smile wide when you see a few faces fall when they realize he isn’t single, you wave and he kisses you again, “Make sure you go say hi to my girl and pick up a Corroded Coffin t-shirt or a crappy burned copy of our set tonight!”   

Before hopping off the stage to work your way through the line that had formed you watched Billy turn heel, retreating with his tail between his legs.

The rest of the night flies by in a whirlwind of making some decent money from t-shirt sales and packing up the equipment. Back at the hotel, Eddie took note of your forlorn expression and slumped shoulders as you leaned into him, “What’s wrong sweetheart? You’ve seemed down since we got back. Did something happen with that jerk?”

You wanted to curse Eddie for being so in tuned with your emotions, that way you didn’t have to talk about what was bothering you. His concerned look though, forced you to let out a sigh and spill it, “You remember the night we met?”

His hand massaged your chest, “How could I forget?”

“Well when you asked me if I had any experience being with a dom and I said my previous partners tried their best, I wasn’t actually being completely truthful.” You put your hand on his as he kept gently rubbing your covered breast, “Billy thought what I wanted was weird. It’s actually one of the big reasons we separated. I had a couple one night stands after that and I tried to bring it up. They did better than Billy but still not like I wanted. Then tonight Billy said that we belonged together because we were both freaks and that you probably put up with my weird sex shit—“

“Stop. Listen to me. Don’t let anyone put those shitty ideas in your head. There is nothing wrong with me or you for the kind of sex we have,” his lips felt so soft against your forehead as he kissed you over and over. “If anything he should be jealous,” his awkward laugh helped break the tension, “He could’ve had the world’s most beautiful, confident, albeit a little spoiled, bratty submissive if he had been worthy of being what you needed. But guys like him don’t care about the wants or desires of their partners.” 

He kissed along your jaw, down onto your neck. Eliciting a stifled moan that you failed to keep quiet. He chuckled against your skin, “But lucky for you, I’m not him. You did such a good job selling shirts for us and helping me plan this trip and solving locked door puzzles during dungeons and dragons that I’m going to give you as many orgasms as I think you can handle tonight, would you like that sweetheart?” His words were emphasized with peppery kisses continuing lower and lower, pulling at your shirt. Tugging the collar down to access the hidden skin. 

His other hand worked along the bottom hem as raising goosebumps in its path. “You know,” he spoke into your collarbone, “I was saving this for the end of the trip but I think right now is an appropriate time. Are you familiar with the practice of collaring?”

You feel your breath shudder. The visible rise and fall of your chest. You manage a nod, “I am.”

“Well,” he adjusts himself and moves slightly away from you. You watch as he reaches up around his own neck and removes the guitar pick chain he wears everyday. Once it’s in his hands he wraps it in his fist with a flick, “Collars don’t have to be the standard pet play shit. It should be something meaningful and important. A symbol of your submission and your dom’s love,” the metal chain was warm as he cupped your cheek with it still clutched in his fingers.

“I know it’s only been a few months but sweetheart,” he licked his lips. Eyes looking down at you, “I’m crazy about you. You drive me fucking wild and I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it back but I love–”

You fisted his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. Relishing the feeling of his grip tightening on your cheek, you pulled back just enough to get the words out, “I love you too Eddie.”

“Will you do me the great honor of being my submissive?”

You swipe back your hair and allow him access to secure his guitar pick around your neck, the click of the chain coming with a promise. 

Any lingering sadness evaporated, “Sir?”

He smiled a knowing look at your playful tone, “Yes my darling?”

“I believe I was promised as many orgasms as possible tonight.”

“Ah ha,” he wagged a finger in your face, “I said as many orgasms as I think you can take.” He unbuttoned your jeans, “Let’s start with my fingers. Just like last night, keep your desperate little mouth shut while you take what I give you.”

You lowered yourself down into the pillows and looked up into the single most beautiful brown eyes you were pretty sure existed anywhere. His calloused fingers dipped into your wetness and rubbed your clit in small circles. Savoring each and every twitch of your body. Minimal effort allowed him to slide two fingers into your pussy and pump in and out.

He whispered into your ear, “You can come whenever you want sweetheart.”

Release number one came quickly with his fingers and instructions. He gave you no time to recover before making his way down to the bottom of the bed and pulling your legs free of all clothing. Your bare, dripping cunt spread for him. Your legs braced themselves on his shoulders as he took you in his mouth. His tongue twisting and turning, pressing in, curving up and back again. Not leaving your precious clit abandoned for long, the sucking gentle and loving. Then hard. Back to soft. An endless cycle of throwing your head back, clawing at the bed and pressing your hand to your mouth to suppress the wanton moans longing to be let out. 

“Not a sound sweetheart, those noises are all mine. No one else gets to hear how fucking desperate you get when I press all the right buttons,” the break from his touch somehow adds to the sensation as he plunges back in and draws another orgasm from your body.

You were sure your cheeks would be bruised after the tight grip your hand held on them. As his pleasure continued your second hand was needed to keep the other from lifting and breaking the rules. Everything started to swirl together. His touch, his hair dusting against your base legs, his firm reminders to shut the fuck up. The lightheadedness overcame you gradually, leaving you at his every whim. Losing track of how long he’d been down there consuming your very soul.

Putting his fingers in place of his mouth, he leaned up over you and took the red plastic guitar pick that now sat in its new home between your breasts into his mouth, “So fucking good for me, you want my cock pretty girl? Tch–“ he scolded, “Pleasure drunk sluts don’t speak. Just nod, good girl.”

He joined you in the struggle to keep quiet as he pressed his tip inside your wet cunt. Your blissed out eyes flew open and almost made a mistake. A sudden high pitched whine manages to work its way out before you can adjust. He gives a warning glare, “One more slip up and we stop. Unless you need me to stop,”

“No sir! Please don’t stop, I’ll be quiet!” 

“Then shut. your fucking. mouth,” he fucked into you harder with each word. Yet another release rushing out from your body. A delightful stream of overstimulated tears falling from one eye. Had you been a little more lucid you would have teased him for also struggling to keep from calling out your name. At some point he had removed his shirt, your hands found his inked chest and pulled him down onto you. His hips bucking into you again and again, more ragged as time continues to pass in that hotel room.

You're pretty sure you fell asleep with his spent cock still inside you.

#Ch 8 just posted over on my A03 if you don't want to wait #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #18+ content #mean dom Eddie munson #dom eddie munson #sub eddie munson #dom reader #sub reader #dom/sub fanfic

[bakurapika]

Almaya Fund: Artist Development Materials (FUNDING FOR INDIGENOUS GUATEMALAN WOMEN WEAVERS' CO-OP)

I'm cross-posting this amazing project! Links will be in the comments so Tumblr will show this in tags. :) The Almaya Fund is run by Trama Textiles, who have a store you can shop from and a donation program too.

Within weaving, there are various tools used within the 3-step process, however arguably the most important stage is the second which uses ´urdidors’ (a tool for warping thread). This fundraiser then has been created in order to buy our weavers new equipment.

The Urdidor 

After rolling their loops of thread into balls, the weavers then use the urdidor to prepare their design for the loom. Including determining the length and the width of the weaving. An urdidor consists of a flat table-like structure that holds a number of pegs on its surface (usually 11). The next step then is to wind the thread which creates crosses within it, allowing the wood loom to hold and the material to be woven. 

An urdidor is pictured here -

The Yarn 

We also want to buy new yarns in different colors for our weavers to allow them to experiment and play with new designs and color palettes. Preserving textile weaving in Guatemala is one of our main missions and allows them to keep traditional designs alive while also exploring their individuality, putting new modern spins that has been in these womens´ families for centuries. 

Here is some examples of the yarn colors that we would like to give to the weavers - 

The Fundraiser

Our hardworking weavers have been relying on the same weaving equipment for the last decade and the equipment has become very worn. Using an urdidor can take hours depending on the intricacy of the design they are preparing, and all the women sharing and relying on one slows down their ability to weave freely and quickly. Thus, lack of tools is resulting in the women having to wait, wasting time that could be better used to create and earn more money for themselves. These new urdidors would not only allow our weavers freedom and the ability to work faster and more reliably, allowing for creative development through personal design exploration. 

New urdidors cost between 150 to 200 quetzales each, (around $26USD), and we hope to raise enough funds to buy 50 of them to allow the women to have one of their own or at least have less reliance on an overused communal one. Our goal is $1,200USD, to not only have enough funds to provide urdidors, but to also give each weaver new threads to allow them to experiment and explore new color pallets and designs. We would also like to create workshops to teach these women about financial literacy so they can better price and sell their new designs, being able to understand and value their worth and allow them to continue to live off the wage of this beautiful craft instead of turning to more modern jobs. 

To encourage this fundraiser, each of our Pujujil weavers are creating a new textile design for our latest summer collection, to highlight the individuality of each weaver. These new textiles will be listed with the name and photo of the weaver who created it, giving further insight into the creative process of our weavers, as well as uplifting some of the unique designs our weavers imagine individually. 50% of proceeds will go directly to this fundraiser to buy the new equipment. We hope to launch this collection by July of this year!

We hope you would like to support this cause and help our weavers to continue what they do, allowing them to continue and preserve this incredible cultural practice.

Pictures by @passportandpixels 

To emphasize.... $26 usd for each woman to be helped by the project!!! More info is available on the website but this is a co-op, owned and operated by the weavers. I'm not affiliated and don't represent them.

Edit: The fund I link below is at zero dollars!!! $0/$1200 as of July 20, 2022.

#signal boost #indigenous people #donations #weaving #textiles

[red-signal]

Hey there, thank you for caring about others but the insulin aid post by happykingtale is a scam. The insulin guy keeps remaking their blog with the exact same story but different PayPal fundraiser links and using different first/last names on those fundraisers and will raise their “goal” when they get close to it.

Unfortunately scams like these are quite common on Tumblr. They create a new blog, slap a few reblogs onto it to ward off anyone who doesn’t scroll down far enough, and start sending out asks requesting donations. In this case their blog was created Wednesday and they made their donation post within 15 minutes. Remember to turn on post dates in settings and double check anyone who comes to your inbox asking for support.

ah fuck sorry

#w o r d s #i have timestamps i just keep forgeting to look

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/24/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&CrewSightings; Samba BTS; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Damien Gerard; Guz Khan!; SaveOFMD Crew Billboard; AdoptOurCrew Saturday Sillies; Making A Difference; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

Been a long Saturday yall. Hope you enjoyed the BTS and general clown/honking going around!

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Samba Schutte Feat. David Jenkins! =

Samba's back with more BTS for us today!

This time the Crew Shoutout is for Chaos Dad himself: David Jenkins! So good to see Chaos dad having such a great time BTS. We love you David!

Videos on Tumblr:

Video 1

Video 2

Video 3

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys decided to take it up a notch today on his Tiktok/Instagram and tell... someone they've created a monster. Who might that be?

== Damien Gerard ==

Our crew-mate @patchworkpiratebear got a Cameo from our lovely Father-Teach, Damien Gerard! There's a bit of a story behind it, see below! Cameo link

== Guz Khan! ==

Hey! It's been a hot minute since we've seen our friend Guz Khan-- and now he's showed up on a cat! Good to see you sir!

== Save OFMD Crew ==

There have been questions raised about the billboard that the SaveOFMD Crew have been posting teasers for on their socials. The Crew had a meeting today wherein they discussed the concerns of the fandom, and have taken that feedback to heart. They are currently working on a clear information packet regarding the logistics of the current billboard efforts. They have kindly asked for your patience while they finish putting those last touches together!

== @adoptourcrew Saturday Sillies! ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew were kind enough to set up a new Saturday Sillies this week! This time they made custom OFMD Wordles! There were WAY too many images to include in the recap, so if you'd like to check them out, please visit the tumblr post below!

Wanna play? You can visit a tumblr post here

== Making a Difference! ==

Thank you to everyone who contributed to, or shared the fundraiser for Trans Pride Brighton! They've finally met their goal and can stay open another year! You made a serious difference in the lives of trans and non-binary folk in that community!

== Articles ==

Deze HBO-serie is gecanceld, maar had een 95% op Rotten Tomatoes

Schwule Romanze zwischen Piratenkapitänen

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies. I hope you had a fun Saturday/Sunday wherever you are. I know some of you are already closing out the weekend. We made it through another day-- and there's all sorts of action going on across all the platforms. I hope you got a chance to have fun, but also to rest. I know you know this, but even though I do too I often forget it. Rest is so very important. It's so easy to burn out, especially when we're constantly exposed to so much online. I think to myself "oh it's fine I'll just get a few more things done" and then it's suddenly 3 hours later and I've had only 4 hrs sleep in the last 30. Please please please give yourself self care today. Go brush your teeth, or take a shower. If you feel like you can do more, brush your hair, or make yourself a nice cup of tea. Do something for you that makes you relax and feel rested. On your last day of the weekend, make sure to take a few moments to yourself and just remember how awesome you are. You may not feel like it sometimes, but I can tell you now you truly are Awe-some. You bring so much life and love to this world and you deserve all beautiful things you want. Anyway, I'm very sleepy and I'm rambling again (what's new). Sleep well and enjoy your day lovelies, see you tomorrow.

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

I'm being lazy tonight again yall. Just two goofy gifs that caught my eye, sorry I am running on fumes. Tomorrow I'll try to find some themed ones for ya <3

Rhys Gif: Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome

Taika Gif: ohnotheydidnt.livejournal

#daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd daily recap #daily ofmd recap #our flag means death #ofmd #rhys darby #taika waititi #samba schutte #david jenkins #chaos dad #daddy jenkins #guz khan #damien gerard #save ofmd #save our flag means death #adopt our crew #save ofmd crew

[queersatanic]

Today is a good day for The Satanic Temple to release its finances.

[ID: Today is a good day for The Satanic Temple to release its finances" text atop a painting of an anthropomorphic black goat in a suit with flowers holding the hand and apparently courting an elven peasant girl; remaining image descriptions as alt text in images /ID]

"Today is a good day for The Satanic Temple to release its finances."

We say that a lot. Sometimes, defenders of TST accuse us of just not knowing how corporations work

So, let's take a look at one of the few windows of transparency we have: Facebook ads.

Facebook/Meta offering financial transparency? Shocking! We know. But here it is, "Ads from The Satanic Temple", tied to the main Facebook page that has been around since Jan. 1, 2013.

And it's been running ads since May 7, 2018.

These dates are important b/c the for-profit corp "United Federation of Churches LLC dba 'The Satanic Temple' " didn't exist till 2014, but it was the entity created earliest specifically for TST endeavors; "The Satanic Temple (Inc.)" wouldn't be a tax-exempt church till 2019.

If you'd like more details and citations on all of this, please refer to the relevant articles in The.Satanic.Wiki and the linked sources there.

Now, as we look at TST's current ads that started running June 8, 2022, this association makes sense: it's United Federation of Churches LLC dba The Satanic Temple, clearly they are selling merchandise, a for-profit endeavor.

Sure, fine.

But hold on: June 1, 2022, the same "The Satanic Temple" was running ads about how "The Satanic Temple stands ready to assist members who share its deeply-held religious convictions regarding the right to reproductive freedom."

That's gotta be for the tax-exempt church, right?

(Reminder: The Satanic Temple cannot help you get an abortion, and it does not deserve your support.)

After claiming to raise $350,000 last year in the name of fighting for abortion and saying they were going "On the Offensive" this year for another $150,000, The Satanic Temple's accomplishments were that they "assisted nearly 20 members" in some vague way and sent a letter.

We've pointed this out before, but look at the fucking gender demographics of how The Satanic Temple targets their ads Let's be clear: TST knows what the fuck they're doing here, whatever ignorance they plead in a deposition later.

Every single bit of that is fucking awful, unconscionable bullshit from an organization that relies on you and Upworthy-style blogs falling for their hope grift b/c you want some "good news for once" without looking deeper into it.

But still which "The Satanic Temple" is it?

All the ads say "Paid for by The Satanic Temple" Is this the for-profit corporation or tax-exempt church? Yes, the money could go to a different place if you buy a hoodie than if you give a donation. But which one specifically is buying the ads? Which budget? How can you tell?

As we've talked about before, when put on the spot on the record, both Doug Misicko ("Lucien Greaves", "Doug Mesner") and Cevin Soling ("Malcolm Jarry") admit to not bothering with too much care distinguishing the various entities that make up The Satanic Temple

Example:

And as we've talked about before, against us TST was willing to attempt to fundraise $30,000 for the tax-exempt church "The Satanic Temple" to use in a SLAPP suit pursued by their for-profit corp doing-business-as "The Satanic Temple".

Even if everything The Satanic Temple is doing financially *were* above-board and on-the-level, the promises the misleading ads they are running for donations would be bad. However: their finances are not above-board and there is every indication they are not on-the-level.

Moreover, we know from comparing the official filings for the sole entity the law does require The Satanic Temple to disclose finances for (Reason Alliance Ltd.) that TST will claim in ink things that are untrue, like Doug Misicko not taking any payment.

That's the same situation where Doug Misicko got caught paying himself the fundraising money for the Belle Plaine monument but trying to redact his own name after first trying to claim it went to the artist instead of himself (or one of his pseudonyms)

If you gave The Satanic Temple $1,000, how would you know where it ended up?

(And how much do you think is still ending up in the pockets of the only two owners, corporate governors, registered agents, treasurers, etc., overseeing all this money without showing their receipts?)

So, today is a good day for The Satanic Temple to release its finances.

#The Satanic Temple #Today is a good day #Facebook #Facebook ads #facebook advertising #What the hell is The Satanic Temple #Today is a good day for The Satanic Temple to release its finances

[anerdyfeminist]

Very long and self-centered work rant incoming.

I know I've referenced a few things about what a hard and weird time it is at work and honestly I've only said about 5% of the truth of what all I'm carrying and that is going on. The ambiguity around what happens w/ my role, in particular, is killing me. I'm not at risk of losing my job, but a major leadership transition is looming and it's all very confusing. The cut to the chase is that I don't know what my role actually is in the new FY, which starts in 3 weeks now. It's a total shit show and in the process, I've discovered that I could be making almost twice what I make now at different nonprofits in fundraising, in positions that carry about 1/3 the responsibility and weight of other people's roles/livelihoods, etc. (It really is true when you are someone who STAYS you get penalized financially.)

I've loved this mission and this team for nearly 14 years now but IDK how much longer I can wait through all this bullshit. Someone I know from the Austin nonprofit world reached out to me to offer me free career coaching bc she's getting her certification and needs guinea pigs and I don't mind being one because I just need HELP and some outside perspective on what I actually want to do as I am 18 years into my nonprofit career at this point.

At our last session she asked me if I ever think about what's best for me instead of constantly focusing in on what's best for this organization and like I knew that's a problem for me but I didn't KNOW-know it until she said it. It's sitting really heavy for me.

I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I'm going to for a second. I'm really good at my job. Like REALLY REALLY GOOD. Like award winning in my industry good. Like has a reputation as one of the few very healthy mangers/team leads of nonprofit fundraising in Austin good. (All 3 of my current direct reports at different times have told me they'll also plan their exits when I go, and I've successfully retained all of them for 5-10 years depending on when they joined.) Like have been attempted headhunted many times but haven't ever wanted to leave this mission before good. Like I wanted to see what's out there that may want me, and I've gotten 3 interviews w/in 2-3 days of contacting some recruiters or putting my resume out there good.

And it's all just making me so fucking sad because I don't WANT to leave, but I DO want to feel appreciated and seen and make the kind of money my peers are, for doing FAR FAR less work....or to at least feel as recognized by my current employer as I do these prospective new ones for how obviously awesome and valuable I am.

I've always been an authority-pleaser (ugh abuse baggage.) I've damaged myself tenaciously reaching goals that were too much, too hard, etc. I've been working now for 25 years in some form or another and I'm consistently told I'm a top performer...so why don't I feel like it here and now??? I started working as a babysitter and tutor when I was like 13, and I began pulling down "real" paychecks when I turned 16. Across the dozens of jobs I've had, I've never had a single corrective action taken against me...I've never been written up or fired. I barely have any listed areas of "needs improvement" on any of my reviews across ALL TIME. I don't say all of this because it's how i believe employees should act, but because I just want to paint a picture for you as to what a dream I am to have on a team because my sense of self-worth has been toxicly linked to what I do/produce and if I can get an A, and if the teacher/boss/lead loves me, since Day 1.

And HEY KIDS, GUESS WHAT??? It hasn't been worth it!!!!!

Thankfully, I do get to take care of myself fairly well in my current organization's culture and I do take time off and I don't have to pull crazy hours. But I also carry and "produce" and take care of way more than anyone else in my side of the org. Way more than anyone SHOULD. It's been admitted to me several times by leadership that I am "the agency's most precious human resource" (even if they don't make me feel that way by how I'm compensated or treated when it comes to this ambiguity.) But carrying this much means I've probably had 2-3 true incidents of burnout w/ my org in the pushing 14 years I've been with them, but I always somehow found a way to recover and get back to happiness or at least contentment.

I'm not sure if that's possible for me now, and it's largely due to the fact that our board doesn't know what they're doing and they are torturing someone who they really really depend on for the agency to stay afloat w/ unnecessary ambiguity. I'm drowning in the ambiguity.

#mine #work complaining #personal #turning off reblogs ofc. but as a reminder a ❤️ to me always = a lil sign of support #nonprofit life

[lonestarbattleship]

May 21, 2023 Update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

"BATTLESHIP TEXAS UPDATE

Battleship Texas in dry dock.

DRY DOCK TOURS

Dry Dock Tours resume Sunday, May 28th. For more information please visit: battleshiptexas.org/drydock

SHIP REPAIRS

Repairs to the forward torpedo blister on the ship’s starboard side.

TORPEDO BLISTERS - The torpedo blister modules are produced in the fabrication shop and are transported to the dock where they will be attached to the ship’s hull. There are currently three more torpedo blister modules under construction in the shop!

Torpedo blister modules are being fitted to the ship each day.

The new torpedo blisters are a slightly different design and square off at the bottom below the waterline. This design change will make the new blisters easier to maintain increasing their longevity.

New framing and coating to the ships portside torpedo blister.

COATING - Yes, the inside of the blisters, and the ship’s hull will be coated to protect against possible corrosion.

Torpedo blister module on the dock floor before being fitted to the ship.

Repairs made to the belly of Battleship Texas.

Repairs made around the ship’s aft docking keel.

HULL - As work continues moving aft, any holes in the ship’s original hull are being repaired. New plates are added to thinner areas and smaller holes are welded up. The ship’s hull is being primed temporarily as the repairs are made.

Repairs made to the belly of Battleship Texas

Repairs made to the ship’s stern, and just above the keel.

The sterns repairs are coming along!

Repairs made to the stern of Battleship Texas.

STERN - New plating continues being paced onto the ship’s stern. As the new plates go on, they are welded to the repaired framing done while the ship was still at San Jacinto Battleground State Historic Site in 2013-2014.

Repairs made around the ship’s propeller shaft tube.

SCRAP STEEL - Any steel that comes off the ship (and is deemed worthy) will be used in future fundraising. We have already started making prototypes of the new products we will be offering on our store.

5”/51 Caliber Guns - The last three 5” guns have been removed from the ship and are now at the warehouse. They will be fully restored and placed back on before the ship leaves the floating dry dock.

Thank you all for the support and,

Come on Texas!

The old meets the new! The top of the torpedo blisters are the originals, and you can see how well the new ones mate with them.

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Group Facebook Page: link

#Battleship Texas #Update #Battleship Texas Foundation #Battleship #Dreadnought #warship #ship #drydock #dry dock #repairs #May #2023 #Galveston #Texas #my post