#Fundraising techniques

[fixyourfin]

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[eddis-not-eeddis]

Literally the only thing holding me back from throwing all of my carefully laid plans to the wind and running away to go to culinary school is the fact that I would have to wear a hairnet for the rest of my life and I refuse.

[foundationsearch]

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[whydonatee]

Effective Fundraising Strategies For Nonprofits | Fundraising Techniques

What Is A Fundraising Strategy?

A fundraising strategy is a plan that helps you raise money for your goal. Fundraising strategy processes are designed to guide and motivate you, your supporters, and the public. Your fundraising strategy is a set of steps that will help you reach your organisation’s goals. It can be used to plan for the future, or it can be used to implement tried and true methods.

How do you develop a fundraising strategy?

In crowdfunding, fundraising strategy is not only about making appropriate plans to raise money for your cause but also keeping your existing user base associated with you for the long term. It should concentrate on building and maintaining the relationships between the fundraiser and the donors.

Fundraising Strategies for Nonprofits

[iconnectxsolutions]

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[yonch]

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

[southernsolarpunk]

I know a lot of ppl here don’t really use TikTok, but an interesting phenomenon that tiktokers have started in maybe the last month or so is that they will start a video talking about whatever pop culture bs is popular at the moment, go on for maybe 15-30 seconds, and then they’ll be like “but who cares about that we need to be talking about Gaza” and then they’ll share fundraisers from Operation Olive Branch or updates about what is happening currently in Gaza, the West Bank, Sudan, the Congo, or any other humanitarian crisis happening.It’s an interesting way to use the algorithm to their advantage (more watch time = more reach). And it seems to be working at least from what I’ve seen, there’s a some people in the comments of those videos pissed about being ‘tricked’.

Also within the past couple of days a bunch of tiktokers (I use “bunch” but I mean, it’s a lot) have advocated for blocking any celebrity that hasn’t spoken in support of Palestine. It’s an interesting technique as well, because people have pointed out that celebrities rely on attention to remain relevant, and essentially they’re being blockaded due to their inaction. More interesting is that a number of people have said that even if this does create any kind of change, (a lot people seem to be doing this because they want to focus solely on the many humanitarian crises happening around the world) that they’re so tired of celebrity culture as a whole that they plan to keep them blocked. And it’s not like just random celebrities that people don’t like, I’ve seen people talking about celebrities that they have been a fan of for years blocking these celebrities due to their inaction.

As someone who has been over celebrity culture for quite a while, it’s interesting to watch as consumers have grown more and more fed up with the lack of action that celebrities have taken with many social movements have happened in the last 10 - 12 years or so. And the seeing people also tired of celebrity culture as a whole. God willing the 2020s will be the death of celebrity worship.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

3. protectively watchful (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here)

summary: you take up on the mantorship offer, but it creates more tensions and turmoil within you than were before. an incident in the kitchen makes harry go into protective mode, and you can't help but get turned on by this man more and more.

words: 4.8k

warnings: sexual tension (like A LOT), inappropriate behaviour, protective!harry.

***

"You wanted to see me, Chef?"

You gave a light knock on the open door of Harry's office, trying to sound polite and professional. It had been a few weeks since you had that talk with Harry about keeping things strictly business between you two. During that time, he had been a perfect mentor - giving you advice and guidance without any flirting or suggestive comments.

His coaching had really helped improve your cooking skills as you soaked up all his knowledge and experience. You were grateful to have a normal working relationship again, focused solely on culinary training. And yet...you couldn't ignore the faint lingering tension between you, that subtle underlying charge.

Harry looked up from the notebooks on his desk, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile when he saw you. "Ah, there you are. Come on in, have a seat."

You sat down in one of the chairs across from him as Harry neatened up the loose papers into a stack. Up close, you couldn't help noticing how well-fitted his black button-down shirt was, or how his tousled hair looked very touchable.  

Firmly reminding yourself this was just a professional meeting, you averted your eyes politely until Harry cleared his throat.

"So as you know, the big Martin gala fundraiser is coming up in a few weeks," he began, shuffling through some folders. "It's one of the biggest events of the year for underprivileged culinary education programs. I'll be preparing the featured dish for their live auction, and I'd love for you to assist me on it."

Your eyes went wide with surprise at this prestigious opportunity. The Martin gala was a hugely famous event in Chicago's culinary scene, attracting all the wealthiest and most notable diners. For an up-and-coming chef to collaborate on the centerpiece dish was an amazing honor and chance to get exposure.

"Wow, yes of course!" you replied enthusiastically. "I would be absolutely honored, Chef. Thank you for this incredible opportunity."  

Harry's dimples deepened as he smiled approvingly. "Don't thank me yet. We'll be under a huge spotlight to deliver an amazing showstopper dish. I expect you to rise to the challenge."

You quickly nodded. "You can count on me to give it my absolute best effort. I'm ready to do whatever work is needed."

"Excellent," Harry said in a slightly lower, huskier tone. "That's exactly what I like to hear."  

For a moment, his voice had a heated quality that hinted at other situations where your eagerness might be welcome. You ignored the shiver it sent through you, reminding yourself this was strictly business now between you two.

Harry seemed to realize he was skirting the line, as he abruptly straightened up and all hints of flirtation disappeared as he switched fully into mentor mode. "Right, well let me walk you through my basic vision so far..."

You leaned forward attentively as he outlined preliminary ideas for a highly ambitious and avant-garde dish blending molecular gastronomy techniques with classic French cuisine fundamentals. It was wildly cutting-edge, even for a showpiece event like the Martin gala. But the more details Harry provided, the more that same thrill of adrenaline rushed through you whenever presented with a new culinary challenge to conquer.

For the next hour, the two of you bounced ideas back and forth in that unique creative flow state that chefs share. Harry's presence was magnetic, but you refused to get distracted by more physical aspects - like the stretch of his biceps against his crisp sleeves, the hint of toned abs beneath his open collar, or the raspy timbre of his voice dipping into that lower register as he passionately discussed certain techniques.  

And oh, his damn tattoos.

No, you sternly told yourself as the conversation began wrapping up. Those days of getting flustered around him were over. Harry had made it clear where you stood, and you fully accepted those boundaries. Anything else was just self-torture.

"...but of course, those are just preliminary thoughts," Harry was saying as he collected the scattered folders into a neat pile. "We'll have plenty of time to refine the details over the next couple weeks."  

You nodded, filing away the mental notes you'd taken during the discussion. "Absolutely, Chef. Just let me know whatever you need for prep or testing different ideas to get a head start."

"Will do." With an air of finality, Harry gathered up the pile and rose from his seat. You quickly stood up as well, not wanting him to loom over you in the enclosed space. For a beat, you both hovered awkwardly, the air seeming to thicken between you.  

"Well then," Harry said, making no move to step past you towards the door. "I'd say this calls for a drink to celebrate our new collaboration, wouldn't you agree?"

Before you could reply, he turned and went to a small antique cabinet tucked in an alcove you hadn't noticed before. With a practiced hand, Harry selected a heavy glass decanter and two tumblers, placing them on the cabinet and expertly twisting off the stopper.

"Let's go with Lagavulin," he mused aloud, carefully pouring two generous glasses of the amber scotch whisky. "A good Scottish whisky seems appropriate for the occasion."  

"I really shouldn't, Chef," you said reflexively, already picturing your lightweight self getting sloppy and unprofessional after even a single drink.

But Harry just chuckled softly. "Loosen up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

He emphasized this by bringing one of the heavy tumblers over and pressing the cool glass into your hand. You frowned down at the coppery liquid, worrying your lower lip uncertainly. But before you could protest further, Harry gently clinked his glass against yours in a silent toast before taking a sizable sip.

The whisky's smoky, peaty aroma seemed to wrap around you intimately. Despite your hesitation, you couldn't help giving an appreciative inhale before taking a small, tentative sip yourself. Bold, layered flavors of vanilla, caramel, and charred oak underscored by an earthy smokiness burst over your tongue. You let out a soft sigh of indulgent pleasure at the decadent taste.

"Good, isn't it?" Harry's gravelly voice made you start slightly. He was watching you with amusement, whisky glass dangling casually from those large, handsome fingers. "It really hits you in the back of the throat, makes you slow down and savor it fully."

You suddenly realized the suggestive implication behind his phrasing and felt a flush of heat bloom across your face and chest. Harry watched the play of emotions flickering over your features with relish before taking another indulgent sip. This time, you noticed the way his full lips pursed delicately to drink, the tiny furrow of concentration between his brows as he savored the flavor before swallowing.

Unconsciously, your eyes tracked the mesmerizing flex of his throat as he swallowed, the hint of stubble grazing along his chiseled jawline. A twinge low in your abdomen accompanied the thought of feeling that scratchy burn of beard between your thighs, that talented mouth working magic elsewhere on your body.

Mortified, you shut down that wayward trail of thought through sheer willpower. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized Harry had caught you staring, his own gaze darkly amused.  

"Easy there," he murmured huskily, stepping a bit deeper into your personal space. "This dish is a marathon, not a sprint. Best to learn to savor every indulgent morsel along the way."

With a pointed look and arched brow, Harry raised his whisky to those plump lips once more, holding your gaze as he placed the rim against that full lower lip and let out an obscenely gratifying groan of pure delight.

Moments after, the tension had subsided, but the flush and blush that had creeped up your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon–you were sure of that.

***

You tried to push aside the lingering thoughts about the “Celebration” that were now implaed into your mind, and the way tiny droplets of the drink remained on his lips till he licked them off with his tongue–

You wanted that tongue to be yours.

Shaking your head, you focused on prepping the ingredients for the evening service. The dinner rush would be starting soon and you needed to have everything ready. As you worked, you were vaguely aware of the dining room filling up with patrons being seated. The sounds and aromas of the bustling kitchen surrounded you in a familiar, comforting way.

You were so engrossed in your tasks that you didn't notice the man approach until he cleared his throat loudly. Looking up, you saw a smartly-dressed diner smiling at you in a way that made you instinctively uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," he said in a syrupy tone. "I was just admiring the delicious-looking fare over here." He raked an obvious look up and down your body. "The menu selections have my mouth watering already."

You stiffened, recognizing the overly familiar leer. This wasn't the first time you'd dealt with an obnoxious patron hitting on you. Keeping your expression neutral, you replied in a polite but firm tone. "I'm afraid you'll need to return to the dining room, sir. The kitchen is off-limits to guests."

Rather than taking the hint, the man leaned nonchalantly against your prep station. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was just hoping you could suggest something...special for me to sample tonight." He punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Suppressing a grimace, you turned away to continue your work, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck. The lech sidled closer until he was nearly pressed against you. "What do you say? I'd love for a tasty little thing like you to--" 

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the kitchen area immediately." Harry's firm baritone cut across the man's words like a whip crack.  

You looked up in relief to see your boss standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched as he glared at the offending patron. Even from several feet away, you could sense the potent force of his displeasure rolling off him in waves.

The diner seemed to shrink slightly under Harry's censorious scowl. "Oh, uh, my apologies. I was just trying to get some personal recommendations--"

"The kitchen is off-limits and you're making my staff uncomfortable," Harry interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't ask again. Return to your table or you'll be asked to leave the premises."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the lech swiftly retreated with some mumbled apologies. You exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the unpleasant encounter. Harry stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked you over with concern.

"You okay? That asshole didn't go too far, did he?"

You managed a faint smile, oddly touched by the protective edge in his voice. "I'm fine, Chef. Just another boorish customer thinking the uniform is a dinner invitation."  

His jaw tightened again as he scowled in the direction the man had gone. "That type of behavior is completely unacceptable. You let me know right away if anyone hassles you like that again, understand?"

Nodding, you found yourself blinking rapidly against the unexpected prickle of grateful tears at having Harry firmly in your corner, despite the complicated dynamics between you lately.  

For a long moment, he watched you carefully as if gauging your equilibrium. Then Harry surprised you by reaching out and briefly squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The warmth of his large hand seeped through your uniform, leaving a tingly imprint even after he pulled away.

"I've got your back, [Y/N]. You focus on doing your job and let me deal with any assholes who get out of line."

The gruff tenderness in his words made your heart do a traitorous little flip in your chest. You nodded again, not trusting your voice enough to respond properly.

With one final pointed look, Harry turned and headed back out to his front-of-house duties.  As you watched his broad-shouldered form disappear through the swinging doors of the kitchen, you felt a complicated tangle of gratitude, protectiveness, affection...and yes, a lingering undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't seem to fully extinguish despite your best efforts.

You spent the rest of the dinner service determinedly pushing aside any lingering thoughts about Harry or the earlier incident. Focusing fully on your work was the only way to get through these confusing emotions that had you all over the place..

The rhythm of prepping, plating, and coordinating with the other line cooks settled into a familiar, reassuring routine. The constant flurry of chopping, sautéing, and barked orders provided a sort of meditative escape from your muddled headspace.

By the time the last diner had been served and the kitchen was winding down for the night, you felt pleasantly drained in that satisfying way that comes from a job well done. As you began breaking down your station for cleaning, Harry emerged from his office looking satisfied.

"Excellent work tonight, everyone," he called out in that effortlessly commanding tone. "Front-of-house said the new salmon dish was a huge hit. We'll definitely want to keep that one on the seasonal menu." 

A chorus of tired but pleased murmurs went around the kitchen at the praise. Harry's eyes found yours amidst the small crowd, holding your gaze a beat longer than strictly necessary before moving on to the other cooks. You tried not to read too much into it.

With the nightly pep talk concluded, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white chef's coat, joining everyone in the evening breakdown and cleaning duties. You watched surreptitiously as he expertly broke down one of the grill stations, muscles in his broad forearms flexing enticingly with each efficient movement.  

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, quickly refocusing on scrubbing down your own prep area. This was exactly the kind of distracted, unprofessional behavior you were trying to avoid lately around Harry.

Despite your best efforts, however, you couldn't fully ignore him moving about the kitchen, checking in with each station to oversee their sanitation. At one point, he paused to examine some utensils that hadn't been properly cleaned, tsking in displeasure before batting them aside to be re-scrubbed.  

"That's never going to meet inspection," he chided the sheepish-looking young line cook in his trademark gruff tone. "Do it again, and do it properly this time. We're not running a greasy spoon here."  

As much as his uncompromising attitude could be intimidating, you also found it oddly...thrilling to witness Harry taking charge so authoritatively. Not to mention the visual of those powerful hands deftly at work was sending your thoughts in an unprofessional direction yet again.

Sternly redirecting your focus, you turned your back to give the area behind the grill station a thorough scrubbing. You were so engrossed that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Harry's low voice sounded directly in your ear.

"Everything looking good over here?" 

You whirled around to find him looming directly behind you, near enough that you could smell the spicy notes of his subtle cologne mingling with the lingering kitchen aromas clinging to him. Up this close, you couldn't help noticing how the top buttons of his coat had come undone at some point, offering a teasing glimpse of the toned chest beneath.

Trying not to stare, you quickly averted your eyes as you nodded. "Y-yes, Chef. All clean on this side."

"Hmm." His assessing gaze slowly raked over your work before returning to your flushed face. The tiniest of smirks played about his lips as if he could read the direction of your thoughts.  

"Well, then. Carry on," was all he said before turning and strolling unhurriedly back towards his office, burgundy cargo pants slung enticingly low on those lean hips.

You let out a shaky breath, mentally cursing how easily flustered you still became around this man, no matter how much you tried to enforce boundaries. Resolutely, you refocused on finishing your cleaning tasks, determined to get out of there before any more distracted lapses in professionalism.

By the time the kitchen had been scoured from top to bottom, you were one of the last few staffers remaining. Wearily peeling off your apron, you were just reaching for your bag when Harry reappeared, looking unhurried and relaxed now that the nightly duties were done.

"Heading out?" he asked as you approached, one thick eyebrow raised questioningly.

You stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. "Yeah, I'm beat. Gonna try and get some extra sleep before the morning prep shift tomorrow."

He made a noncommittal sound, falling into step beside you as you headed for the employee exit out back. For a few moments, you walked in silence, oddly aware of the warmth radiating off his body this close to yours.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't at all what you expected. "You did good with that asshole customer earlier."

Your steps faltered slightly at the praise before quickly recovering. "Oh...uh, thanks, Chef. You really didn't need to step in like that."

"The hell I didn't," he countered gruffly. There was an edge to his tone that made the tiny hairs at your nape prickle. "No one treats my staff like piece of meat, especially not in my own goddamn kitchen."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the very idea, causing a lock of mahogany hair to fall rakishly across his furrowed brow in a way that really shouldn't have been as distracting as it was.

Swallowing hard, you refocused on the matter at hand. "I've dealt with guys like that before. Just comes with the territory sometimes, y'know?"

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he insisted, mouth setting into a grim line. You found yourself unable to look away from the sharp angles of his frowning profile, chiseled jaw ticking faintly with irritation, that he tried to mask.

He fixed you with those intense pale eyes, all traces of humor gone. "No one - and I mean no one - gets to treat any of you with disrespect while I'm in charge around here. I won't stand for that shit under my roof."

The ferocity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver rippling through you, though from wariness or...something else entirely, you couldn't say. All you knew was the low, authoritative resonance of Harry's voice carried an unmistakable air of command that raised goosebumps along your arms.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact you were walking in such close proximity out of public view. Or hell, maybe it was just the sheer presence of this man who could flip between stern taskmaster and something rawer, more carnal in the blink of an eye.

Whatever it was, you felt that subtle spark between you ignite and suddenly, you desperately needed to be alone to process the yearning that flickered to life low in your belly. Before you could consider the impulse further, you were blurting out the first excuse that came to mind.

"Well, thanks again for that. And for the whole mentorship thing too. I, uh...I actually have some errands to run, so I'll just catch you tomorrow morning, 'kay?" 

You didn't even give Harry a chance to respond before ducking through the exit, muscles taut with confused tension. As the cool night enveloped you, you drew a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to steady yourself.

Whatever weird atmospheric flux had momentarily enveloped you back there was too dangerous, too distracting from the tenuous balance you and Harry had only just reestablished. No, it was better to put some space between you before things got muddied again.

With a fierceness born of sheer force of will, you wrestled your turbulent, wandering thoughts back under control. You were a professional, with goals to work towards. Getting pulled into Harry's electrifying orbit again would only derail you.

Still, as you hurried to your car, his shape-shifting countenance kept flashing unbidden across your memory - the dazzling smile, the brooding intensity, the simmering promise of authority barely restrained. All of it provided an infuriatingly potent combination that had your body humming with repressed longing despite yourself.

This was going to take more effort than you'd anticipated.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of grueling practice runs and preparation for the Martin gala. You and Harry spent nearly every waking hour in the kitchen, iterating endlessly on his showpiece dish concept.

With the prestigious event date rapidly approaching, any lingering awkwardness or tension between you had been shifted firmly into the background. The shared urgency of perfecting this culinary masterpiece became an all-consuming focus that left little room for anything else.

Still, that didn't stop you from noticing...things.

Like how the sleeves of Harry's whites had an endearing tendency to get shoved up his forearms in a way that displayed those tanned, sinewy muscles to distracting effect as he worked. You definitely didn't linger over the sight of his strong hands deftly wielding a knife, making precise, practiced cuts. And you absolutely did not imagine those dexterous fingers trailing across your skin instead of the cutting board.  

At least, that's what you sternly told yourself in an ongoing effort to maintain focus.

For his part, Harry was all business during these preparation sessions - issuing clipped instructions, evaluating ingredients with a critical eye, pushing both of you relentlessly to get every component just right. Only rarely did you catch hints of something more underneath that professional veneer.

Like the time you were bent over a burner, carefully spooning out the orbs of flavored olive oil onto the waiting plate. Harry stepped up behind you to examine your work, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. As he leaned in closer to inspect the delicate orbs, his low murmur caressed the fine hairs at your nape in a way that made you shiver.

"That's it...go nice and slow with a deft touch," he rumbled in that raspy timbre that never failed to send tingles shooting straight to your core.

Heart pounding, you risked a sidelong glance to find his pale eyes already locked on yours, glittering with an intensity that contrasted sharply with his deceptively neutral expression. A charged moment stretched between you as that underlying spark you'd been determinedly ignoring flared, sudden and molten. 

Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust, Harry blinked and cleared his throat brusquely. "Carry on, then," he instructed in his normal crisp tone before turning away to focus on another component. 

You stood motionless for several heartbeats, fingers clenched around the spoon, skin flushed and tingling in equal measures of arousal and disbelief. Did that really just happen or had the endless hours in the kitchen started affecting your mind?

Too skittish to ponder it further, you dove back into your tasks with even more single-minded focus, the uneasy moment shelved and locked away tight. No matter what fleeting tension arose in isolated pockets, you couldn't afford to unpack it right now - not with the enormity of what was at stake.

The days ticked down in a relentless march until finally, you and Harry stood in the solitude of his spartan office the night before the big event, taking a breather from your marathon final prep session.

An ungodly number of mise en place containers filled every available surface, each holding fussed-over components of the highly elaborate and conceptual dish that would make its debut tomorrow. Harry had pushed you both to your physical and creative limits, drilling the execution repeatedly until he was satisfied you could plate it flawlessly under the anticipated scrutiny.

Now, having quality-checked and prepped every last possible element, there was nothing further to do except rest up and bring your sharpest mental game tomorrow. Harry seemed to deflate slightly as the backdrop of mounting pressure decreased for the first time in weeks.

Propping his hip against the desk with studied nonchalance, he quirked one eyebrow in a sidelong glance. "You ready for this?"

Despite your weariness, you felt that familiar thrill of adrenaline stir at those simple words - as well as a contradictory quiver of nerves. This event was a make-or-break opportunity of the highest magnitude, especially for someone like you just starting out. Either you nailed your responsibilities tomorrow, or it all came crashing down in front of Chicago's most elite gourmands.

Shoving aside the sudden flutters of doubt, you met Harry's inscrutable gaze head-on, straightening your spine. "You know I am. We've put in the work, and this dish is gonna blow them all away."

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his sculpted mouth as he studied you appraisingly. "That's what I like to hear. Just remember - all the technique practice in the world won't mean a thing if you panic out there."

The subtle warning made you bristle defensively, never one to back down from a challenge. "I'm not going to panic," you scoffed. "I eat massive amounts of public pressure like this for breakfast."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement, and not for the first time, it struck you how effortlessly he could switch between imposing and playful. "Is that so?" he drawled easily. "In that case, would you care to make things a bit more interesting?"

Before you could respond, Harry kicked off from the desk in one sinuous motion to prowl closer. Despite your weariness, you felt your heart rate kick up several notches as he invaded your personal space, long body coiled with a loose, predatory grace.

"Let's say we raise the stakes a little," he proposed in a tone of studied nonchalance that was completely belied by the heated glint in his eyes boring into yours. "If you can prove you've got the chops to keep a cool head under fire tomorrow, I'll take you out afterwards to celebrate. Just you and me, anywhere you want to go."

Your mouth went instantly dry at the implications behind his offer. Were those...the unmistakable undertones of flirtation coloring his invitation? After the weeks of him keeping things strictly professional between you, the sudden shift was dizzying - and left you dangerously intrigued.

"And what if I choke?" you heard yourself countering recklessly before you could reconsider. "What do you get out of it then?"

His answering smile was pure blistering sin. "Oh, sweetheart. If that happens...I get to take you out too - but somewhere a bit more private."

Harry paused to let the suggestive proposition linger, backing it up with a slow, heated raking of his pale eyes over your body that left zero doubt as to his implication. Heat bloomed furiously across your cheeks as forbidden images flooded your mind unbidden - flashes of tangled limbs, straining muscle, sweaty exertion of a far different sort...

Then, just like that, the provoking spell was broken. Rocking back on his heels, Harry shrugged one broad shoulder in an easy, dismissive gesture. "But that's not going to happen, is it? You've got all the skills, you've put in the time - no reason to buckle tomorrow."

He threw one final weighted glance in your direction before pivoting on his heel towards the door. "Get some rest. I'll see you at the venue early to do our final walkthrough before we get this show on the road."

And with that parting comment, Harry strode casually out, leaving you rooted there in dumbfounded silence. What the hell had just happened? One moment, you'd merely been steeling yourselves for tomorrow's high stakes challenge - and then suddenly he was issuing some bizarrely flirtatious...proposition.

Or was that really what it was? As you stood there chasing replays of his words, his tone, his body language - the whole previous interaction kept taking on a slinkier, more salacious cast. Like maybe your presence of mind was slipping already, causing you to read into things that weren't really there.

No...no, you decided as you hefted your bag, determined to put it all out of your head for now. Harry was just his usual aggravating self, trying to rile you by dangling some imagined reward or punishment to keep you on your toes before the big event. This whole...suggestive semiflirtation thing was just the product of your own exhausted mind playing tricks.  

Firmly shoving aside all unsettling thoughts, you focused on the immediate challenge awaiting tomorrow. You would plate Harry's showpiece dish to absolute perfection, prove yourself under the brightest lights, and decisively seize this career-making opportunity. 

Everything else could be dealt with later.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[mortalityplays]

tonight I was at a neighbourhood meeting to discuss what more people in our local area could do ourselves for palestine, since the UK government is committed to the wrong side of history. the msp who organised it said she did so because she'd been emailed by well over 1200 different individuals in our area over the last few months, demanding action. most of them in their own words and many of them contacting her repeatedly. thats nearly 2% of the local population, for the record.

if you've ever been to a church hall public meeting like this, you know they tend to be dominated by retirees and a few locals who are especially passionate about very specific issues. they also tend to pretty quiet, especially on a rainy friday evening.

tonight there were people of all – and I mean all – ages. there were parents who brought small children, there were teenagers still in school uniforms, there were middle aged couples, and students, and retirees. there was a man in a three piece tweed suit, and another man still in his hi-vis from a building site. and they were all passionate, they all had things to say. people are incredibly frustrated, outraged at the inaction and indifference that is being asked of them by our government. there was zero question in that room that palestine belongs to the palestinian people, that they will return and they will rebuild, and that we are collectively unwilling to live with ourselves if we can't help.

and we weren't just talking about petitions and marches. there was discussion of when and how volunteers will be able to go to gaza and physically help to rebuild. medical workers and architects are forming action groups to coordinate with gazans, send aid, develop new techniques and materials for the conditions people are facing on the ground. we talked about BDS, how to ensure action and advocacy and fundraising are sustained long term, and what we can do to shut down arms sales to israel.

this wasn’t a meeting of radicals or activists. this was a public meeting in a church hall, organised in the space of about ten days and attended by the local vicar. these were my neighbours. this is the passion, the anger and the urgent appetite for justice that exists among the general public right now. nobody can claim they don't know what's going on, said one person. we are here simply because we are human beings, said another. palestine will be free, said another. and another. and another. and another. palestine will be free.

[noirandchocolate]

RICE Alzheimer's Research Institute

Terry died on 12 March 2015, having given his PCA a run for its money.  Open about his diagnosis, he has helped to unlock the secrecy and stigma that often surrounds dementia.  His legion of fans is undoubtedly grateful that despite the inevitable progression of the PCA he was able to fight his ‘embuggerance’ and continue to produce a number of both well-received and well-reviewed books.  Terry was also a great example to me in emphasizing how important it is that, in caring for people with any type of dementia, we always look for what people with a condition like PCA can still do, rather than what they can’t: by maximizing what is possible, a person can still live well with dementia for a significant time.

--Professor Roy Jones, Director of RICE (taken from “Terry Pratchett: His World”)

I wanted to post something for the Glorious 25th about the Research Institute for the Care of Older People (RICE) in Bath, where Sir Terry Pratchett received treatment for Post-Cortical Atrophy, the type of Alzheimer's disease that eventually took his life. From the organization's website:

RICE established one of the first memory clinic services in the UK in 1987 – a service which has since been widely replicated and is now considered standard and best practice by the NHS. In fact, RICE now runs the NHS Memory Clinic in Bath and North East Somerset on behalf of the local clinical commissioning group and local authority through a sub-contract with HCRG Care Group. To date, we’ve assessed, diagnosed, treated and advised 12,000 people with memory problems and their families in our memory clinic. 

Most of RICE’s clinical services and research activities take place in our own purpose built, specialist centre located on the Royal United Hospital site. The building of the RICE Centre was possible as a result of generous donations from major donors, trusts and foundations, and members of the public. RICE moved into the ground and first floor of the centre in 2008. Following the success of the DementiaPlus Appeal and further generous donations from major donors, trusts and foundations and members of the public, RICE converted the attic floor in 2019 to create more office space. This has given us access to much needed additional rooms and offices which will enable us to grow and run more services and activities. We’ve worked hard to ensure that the areas of the centre visited by our patients meets their needs and we regularly receive feedback on how much our patients enjoy their visit to our centre.

RICE not only provides clinical services to patients, but also conducts research into aging and dementia, including performing clinical trials for new drug treatments for memory-related diseases and developing other "techniques for diagnosing, managing, treating and understanding dementia and memory changes in older adults."

Lady Lyn Pratchett is the patron of the organization, and the website includes a page about how people can donate funds or volunteer at the clinic and participate in fundraising events.

SO, if you'd like to help fund Alzheimer's research on this Glorious 25th of May--or at any time--in honor of the Man in the Hat, take a look!

[psychhound]

[ID: a banner that reads "immigration sale" in large light letters, with "8 games 40 - 60% off" in smaller light text. the background is a home's porch with a rocking chair, with a light brown translucent text box over it. end ID]

HEY YALL I'M DOING A SALE

so my little brother @hmooncreates and his partner @paladinbaby are working to move in together!!! faun does not live in america and the visa application is Not Cheap so im having a sale to help out!!!

the goal is $150 but literally anything is awesome!! all proceeds will go straight to paying for the visa application

the sale includes some big games!! if youve seen my sales before, you'll be familiar with:

little shepherd, little spy: a solo or duet journaling game where you are a spy in the fairy war, delivering messages through your spy ring through coded messages in the books on your bookshelf

dead mans hand: a solo storytelling game where you travel around the weird wild west learning peoples stories through a poker hand oracle system

little celestial fieldwork guide: a solo or multiplayer city exploration photography game where you use tarot cards to get hints as to what objects little spirits are hidden as to catalogue them for your research

familiar field trip: a competitive multiplayer game where you are all witches' familiars causing havoc in the village, teaming up or betraying each other to get the most mischief points

some BRAND NEW GAMES that have NOT been on sale before are:

shadow/giant: a duet game where one player is a gruff, jaded adult and the other player is the magical child now under their care

the graveyard game: a solo journaling game where you interview people to write an ethnography of a magical, haunted graveyard

with breath & sword: a solo journaling game where you gear up and fight monsters in order to calm down from real-life anxiety, using grounding methods and breathing techniques

the narrator paradox: a solo narrating game where you have to wrangle your protagonist into listening to the story you're trying to tell and not defying the narrative

each game 40% off or get all 8 for only $18!!!

also check out hollis's fundraising sale with a zine and dating sim inspired ttrpg (its so so fun) and faun's fundraising sale commissions (theyve drawn most of the art for my dnd game theyre amazing)

checking the games out and spreading the word so appreciated!!! thanks yall!!!

[makapatag]

Gubat Banwa: THE SULTANATE OF AKAI

LUNAR KNIGHTS. CHIVALROUS POETS. FAITHFUL PANDITA. One of the most powerful mahamandalas in Gubat Banwa, conquering in their Divine Striving for Goddess, is inspired by the various Sultanates of Southeast Asia! STRIVE EVERMORE FOR GODDESS: AKAI!

While Akai is host to a huge number of religions, their culture and allied polities are skewered through with belief and utmost reverence for The Most High Baginda, BAGINDA SUMONGSUKLAY, which is not her name but a descriptor as the Crescent Moon.

Akai reverses the use of God and uses "Goddess" instead. They are a primarily matriarchical culture, and they believe that Goddess lives on the Moon. The Moon is the most important thing in the universe: it is the hole that leads into the True Space of Goddess.

Akai is intensely researched and inspired by popular Postclassical Southeast Asian societies: Malacca, Johore, Maguindanao, Sulu and more. They are raiders far and wide, and fight so that all of Gubat Banwa will know of the providence of Goddess.

Their faith, AGMA DAMLAG, is inspired by Southeast Asian Islam, which is skewered through with mixtures of local folklores and legends, making it different from "pure" Islam. It is filled with mysticism, jinns, and devil dancers.

Their Disciplines are focused on overwhelming and protecting, on defense. They are the unbreakable ones, after all! They are also inspired by Islamic Chivalry notes: it is the Sultanates that house the most court romance, poetry, and chivalry.

BEAST HUNTERS are those that turned the common profession of hunting in the Isles into an actual martial art. Out of necessity: Beast Hunters are quick and debilitating. According to their Faith, they cannot allow their dogs to bleed the prey before they do.

the MARTYRS are warriors that go into battle in a fierce death battle trance, always ready to die for their convictions. they get stronger as the fight goes, and their techniques let them strengthen their attacks, throw their giant weapons, go into holy rage, and wield juru pakal

SARIMANOK KNIGHTS are true chevaliers who wield the strength of the sarimanok--a revered omen bird that is integral to many cultures of the sword isles--to punish and smite those that would force them to kneel! they can fly upon sarimanok, or be imbued with the holiness of one

STRIFESINGERS sing the grand dirge of Gubat Banwa, as it revels in violence. they are constantly singing: they have a burst 2 aura that constantly heals and gives buffs, and they can put down grand songs that manipulate allies and the battlefield!

warriors that summon the knights of the sea: churning the waters with swordfishes and sharks are a common element in seasian folk tales. the swordfish cavalier is the purest representation of that, allowing them to manipulate water, turn into water, or summon the moon

All of these and more in our KS. Back us now and help us get more art and writing for this grand mahamandala!

Just as important: in solidarity with our colonized and oppressed peoples in Palestine! From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free! Check out this ongoing fundraiser that has over 250+ games for Gaza!

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi everyone,

It’s been a while since I’ve posted something from an article. So I wanted to share an article I found listing some ways to practice self-care. According to this article, here are some ways that could help:

Binge watch your favorite TV shows.

This is the first thing I do when I start running out of gas. It’s comforting, I identify with the characters, I know what’s going to happen in the show, and that relaxes me. It’s easy to do, like putting on a Band-Aid.

Spend a day in doing self-care activities.

I got a massage, took long baths, journaled and ate my favorite meals (a lot of Chick-fil-A and ga roti from Vietnam). I tried to spend time outside, but the mosquitoes were bad, so I ensconced myself in my sunroom which has several windows and is very colorful. It’s my happy place.

Meditate or do deep breathing.

I won’t lie, it’s difficult for me to meditate without a guiding app on my phone, and even then, I have trouble. But meditation is so good for you; it helps you be mindful, manage stress, reduce negative emotion and decreases anxiety. As for deep breathing, I always like to do box breathing, where you inhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds, exhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds and repeat. I read that Navy SEALs use this technique.

Go to a therapist or counselor.

I know that I talked my husband’s and my mom’s ears off about the fundraiser, and I could tell they were getting weary of being a sounding board. So I took my issues to my therapist, which is what I’m supposed to do, and it felt so good to release all that negative energy. She let me vent but helped me refocus on the good I was doing, too. I highly recommend therapy/counseling. If you don’t have a therapist, look into Family Counseling Service. It has wonderful therapists and a variety of programs.

Say no.

This is probably the most helpful self-care action you can take. Also the hardest to do. When I was working on the fundraiser, I didn’t say no at first. My type A personality (really, I’m type B) took over, and I wanted to be involved in everything. Soon I became burned out. After more therapy and self-care, I realized that I had to step back and say no. As soon as I did that, I felt way better. I was still involved in every aspect of the fundraiser, which probably annoyed the committee, but I delegated, communicated better and said no when I needed to.

The link to this article will be below if anyone wants to read through it.

[iconnectxsolutions]

Increase your proceeds using modern fundraising, whether you want to be more efficient or just save time. Here is a blog that discusses how digitalization allows you to create new revenue streams.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Cherry, Adam, and Takeshi with a painter s/o?

Cherry

Their careers are very similar, Karou with his calligraphy and them with their painting.

They probably met when they were hosted at the same show on classical Japanese artforms.

As an artist himself he has a deeper appreciation for their technique with their brush strokes and fine detail work. It’s so delicate and perfect. He could watch them paint for hours.

Adam

Likely met at a charity or fundraising gala at a gallery they were showcased in and Ainosuke took a liking to their work.

Not knowing they were the artist, he provided his critics and was unanimously shut down by them. Decimated even by their words.

They told him that a bureaucrat like him could not possibly understand the passion of art like this, and since then Ainosuke has been obsessed with them and their passion.

Tadashi

He evens their expressiveness and creativity.

They get to be so free. Both on and off the canvas. Artist are known for being a little eccentric, so they can get away with things he would never dream of being so bold about.

Takeshi is actually a fairly skilled painter, but his art has no life to it. He can ‘play the notes, but not make the music’ as it were. So he just leaves the art in their relationship to them.

[skybrushus]

This is the piece I started during my most recent Picarto stream. That evening I was demonstrating my colored pencil, mixed media technique. So here's Applebloom and Stone Mane enjoy a milkshake together.

    This Saturday 11/25/23 starting at 5:30pm Pacific I'll be streaming on Picarto. With the Holiday Season upon us I'll be hosting my annual Holiday Fundraiser Stream.

    Once again I'll be raising money for Second Harvest of Silicon Valley Link . With the cost of everything going up, many families and individuals are feeling the economic squeeze even more this Holiday Season.

    If we reach a milestone goal of $1,500 USD raised I'll throw the switch and stream will be NSFW. If this goal is reached before 5:30pm Pacific the whole stream will be NSFW.If you wish to make an early donation here is the Link.

Important. If you do make a donation and plan to be in the stream, include your Picarto username in a note when you donate. As in past years we'll be drawing names of donors and giving away the art I will be doing that night. Of course there are rules for winning a piece:

You must have donated before or during the stream.

You must have a registered Picarto username and be in the chat during stream.

You can only win once.

So join us for an evening art and stories as we raise money for a good cause.