#strawn

[ultimatediy]

Recipe for Summer Fresh Strawberry Pie Fresh strawberries star in this easy pie recipe that makes a perfect dessert for summer entertaining.

[nagaino]

[fuckyeahelijahwoodfan]

Elijah on set with cast and crew of Bookworm

[brickcitybaby94]

WHAT DOES “GTD” STAND FOR!!? . . GOT THE DRAWS, OK!

[eretzyisrael]

by Dion J. Pierre

A prominent international law firm based in Chicago has rescinded an offer of employment to a law student at New York University who sent a message to the school’s Student Bar Association (SBA) expressing “absolute solidarity” with Hamas’ terrorist onslaught against Israel.

“Winston & Strawn learned that a former summer associate published certain inflammatory comments regarding Hamas’ recent terrorist attack on Israel and distributed it to the NYU Student Bar Association,” the law firm said in a statement. “These comments profoundly conflict with Winston & Strawn’s values as a firm. Accordingly, the firm has rescinded the law student’s offer of employment.”

The student — Ryna Workman, president of the SBA — had sent a message to the NYU student group on Hamas’ invasion of Israel, which resulted in more than 1,000 Israeli deaths. Thousands of Israelis were also injured, and dozens were kidnapped and taken as hostages to neighboring Gaza, the Palestinian enclave controlled by Hamas.

“I want to express, first and foremost, my unwavering and absolute solidarity with Palestinians in their resistance against oppression,” Workman wrote. “Israel bears full responsibility for this tremendous loss of life … I will not condemn Palestinian resistance.”

Workman went on to accuse Israel of “apartheid” and “settler colonialism” before concluding, “Palestine will be free.”

Winston & Strawn said in its statement that the firm remains “outraged and deeply saddened by the violent attack on Israel over the weekend. Our hearts go out to our Jewish colleagues, their families, and all those affected.” The firm added that it “stands in solidarity with Israel’s right to exist in peace and condemns Hamas and the violence and destruction it has ignited in the strongest terms possible.”

New York University’s Law School on Tuesday released its own statement disavowing Workman’s comments, which widely circulated on social media and triggered an uproar demanding that the school clarify its position on them.

“Some of you have seen a message from the president of the Student Bar Association regarding the horrific conflict in Israel and Gaza. This message was not from NYU School of Law as an institution and does not speak for the leadership of the Law School,” wrote Troy McKenzie, dean of the law school. “It certainly does not express my own views, because I condemn the killing of civilians and acts of terrorism as always reprehensible.”

NYU isn’t the only university to have law school students support Hamas and condemn Israel. On Tuesday, amid the circulation of footage showing gruesome acts of violence committed by Hamas terrorists against Israeli civilians, the City University of New York (CUNY) Law School’s Jewish Law Students Association (JLSA) shared a tweet containing instructions for making Molotov cocktails while appearing to defend Hamas’ terror campaign.

“Soak a cloak in flammable liquid … resoak [sic] the exposed wick and light it,” the text said. “Target a hard surface, such as an engine grill. Repeat until the invading occupiers retreat.”

[nofatclips]

The Eternal (Joy Division cover) by Sannhet (featuring Josh Strawn) b/w Short Life

[letsgethaunted]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Let's Get Haunted (@letsgethaunted)

Guess who got married, Haunties???? 😍 😍

[hug-kiss-marry-kill]

[veraverorum]

Greetings from the finally fully painted bedroom

[2t2r]

Peintures sur casques de bébés par Paula Strawn

Nouvel article publié sur https://www.2tout2rien.fr/peintures-sur-casques-de-bebes-par-paula-strawn/

Peintures sur casques de bébés par Paula Strawn

[nicksmcivor]

Strawns Strawberry Pie

[notesfromthecactuspatch-blog]

Strawn, Texas, My Little Town

Strawn, Texas Depot, back when there was a train running Strawn, Texas. Yep, same name as mine and a distant relative in the family food chain. Founded in the late 1800s and soon to be the gateway to our newest Texas state park, “Palo Pinto Mountains State Park.” A 5,400-acre rough and rustic layout that includes a lake, a river, a creek, mountains, trails, rocky escarpments as big as a house,…

[fuckyeahelijahwoodfan]

Elijah wood and Nell fisher in Bookworm

I am starting to really like this bad boy look 😍

[mysticworks]

Still I rise ~ Lewis Hamilton

Reader comforting Lewis, after a disappointing qualifying session.

Word Count 1.2k

Genre: Angst

------------------------------------------------------------

His helmet lay strawn on its side, as if tossed to the floor with anger and frustration. 

The changing room door was ajar, the sliver of light from outside piercing a fraction of the darkness within.

From it, you could only just make out the flash of yellow - what seemed to be Lewis’ shoes - the neon, bright in the darkness.

The moment you’d seen his post qualifying interview, you’d known; the sadness in his perfectly practised smile, the tension in his furrowed brow, the unfocused eyes as he spoke of his session to the reporter questioning him.

“At some point you start wondering if it's the car or just you, y’know.” 

He’d shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to diffuse his answer to the question, the biting on his lip holding in a tremour only you could notice.  

After a viciously challenging start to the season, you’d seen the confidence that Lewis usually carried himself with, slowly begin to deflate, and this practice session in Japan seemed to be the absolute breaking point for his positive spirit. 

The situation was taxing, understandably, and the Mercedes crew had spent much of the season heads down, working on new improvements to make - yet somehow, progress seemed slow.

Lewis seemed to be blaming himself much more these days, longer hours in the gym, harsher dieting; absolute eternities he’d spend rewatching clips of his race and memorising data the analytics team sent across.

He was disappointed in himself. Torn apart from self-doubt and worry. 

And now, post qualifying interview, he seemed to have gone missing. 

You’d spent the past however long looking from him; pacing the entirety of the paddock to the Mercedes garage, even peeking into the press conference green room where you’d bumped into a very confused Max- having to squeak a quick “sorry,” before rushing back on your mission to hunt Lewis down. 

Yet here he was, confining himself to the darkness of his changing room, burying himself in wavering self -confidence.

Sucking in a deep breath, you took a ginger step towards the door, lightly giving it a quick knock to signal your entrance. The light flooded in from outside, and from the doorway you caught sight of Lewis - your heart crumbling as you took in the sight of him.

Oh you poor, poor thing.

He was sat on the floor in the far corner of the room curling into himself. Head in his hands, his knees drawn up to his chest. You saw his body tremble in a tremendously suppressed sob, one you could only wonder how long he’d been holding in.

It didn’t take you a second longer to reach him, falling to the floor in front of him. It was then you noticed just how violently his hands were shaking, and you reached out, tenderly taking them into your own.

Lewis responded to your touch immediately, his head lifting to meet your eyes. 

In an attempt to soothe him, you rubbed circles into the back of his hands, eyes locking with his bloodshot ones.

You broke the silence first, in a whisper, soft but firm. “You’re going to be okay.”

He gave you a tight smile through his tears - sad and forced. “I’ve lost it. I’ve lost it all.”

His voice gave him away, cracking 2 words into his sentence and his eyes filled with fresh tears. They spilled out onto his face and he tore his hands away from yours to wipe them away.

Lewis had always been the type to keep his emotions in control - and this time he’d reached breaking point.

“Lewis,” you reached out for his face, forcing his eyes to meet yours again. There was defeat in them. Like the hope and passion to fight for wins had been sucked out and replaced with tonnes and tonnes of self-doubt. 

“You haven’t lost anything.”

Rubbing the tears off his cheeks you pulled him into an embrace, and in moments his arms were tight around you, his head resting on your shoulder and soaking it as he let out the frustration, the pressure, the anger, the pain.

“It’s not the car. It’s me.”

You shook your head, determined to let him know that this was no fault of his own. He curled further and further into you, and you held him tighter, cradling his quivering body in your arms in an attempt to take the pain away. 

Lewis had always been physically bigger than you being the athlete he was; taller, bulkier, stronger. 

Yet in your arms he seemed so small. So vulnerable. As if needing your protection to shield him from scrutiny. 

You rubbed his back, shushing him with words of affirmation. 

He was stronger than this. He was a fighter. He was a champion. And that's what he needed to know. 

How he’d conquered years of championships and podiums. How he’d brought it home on only 3 wheels at Silverstone. How he’d stolen the show in his rookie years, being only a point behind the season winner. 

But also how he was so much more than just a formula one driver. 

A motivator, justice seeker. An inspiration, role model for thousands and thousands if not millions. Someone passionate to right wrongs, unafraid to condemn the world for its immorality. 

“One failure doesn’t set you back Lewis,” His sobs had quietened down, and he gave a small sniffle in reply, “A bad qualifying isn’t a bad race. A bad race isn’t a bad season. A bad season isn’t a bad career.” 

You wanted him to see what so many saw in him. What you saw in him. His eloquence, charisma, humility. 

And so you tightened your hold against him, giving him a gentle squeeze on his palm, to let him know, it would all be okay.

A small smile erupted on your face when you felt him give a small squeeze back. One that showed he acknowledged what you’d said. 

You pressed a kiss against his forehead, before leaning against it so your breaths intermingled. “You’re a fighter, Lewis. So get up and fight for this.”

—---------------—----------------------------------------

Race day:

Lewis zipped up his race suit, adjusting his ear piece before picking up his helmet and striding towards his car. 

He felt a new found confidence surge into him today - his breakdown less than 24 hours prior to this race lifting a huge weight off his chest he didn't know he'd been holding onto. 

It was as if his faith had been restored, by someone letting him know that it was okay to fall. It was okay to hit hurdles, as long as he picked himself up and fought through it. 

Lewis found your face in the crowd of engineers - not that you'd been hard to find - you stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of Mercedes team uniforms.

“Ready?” You let warmth fill your eyes, closing the gap between you until the chaotic bustle of the paddock drowned away - becoming no more than a background buzz. 

“Ready.” Lewis’ voice was low, yet it held certainty. You rested your palms against his solid torso, eyes locking with his, through the visor of his helmet.  

There were no signs of yesterday's doubts; no question of ability; the tears of vulnerability dissolved from the fire that set ablaze in his orbs of gold. 

He was ready to make a statement.

Lewis flashed you a smile, cocking his head to the side with the charisma you'd fallen so in love with.  

“I am a fighter, and I will fight for this. I am a fighter, so I will rise.”

[sterling-501]

𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓈

SUMMARY: you cleaning Hunter’s wounds…that’s it that’s the plot x

(HunterxFemReader)

warnings: none just tooth rotting fluff ig

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“sorry sorry” you mutter as Hunter hisses, the gash above his brow causing the Sergeant grief as you clean the excess blood off with a cloth. Maker knows how he got it since the man wears a helmet but here you are. He sits on your shared bunk as you stand in between his legs, contents of the med kit strawn across the mattress. You dab the wet cloth along the cut, cleaning up the excess blood that lines the gash, your other hand resting on his hairline gently holding his stray hairs out of the way. “Ok this is going to sting a bit” you say, reaching down to grab a bacta wipe, a small grunt being all Hunter responds with as you place the wet cloth on the bed. You lean forward, grabbing the bacta from the bunk before tearing the packaging apart with your teeth.

You start to gently dab the cut with the wipe, dragging the it around the edge before pressing down softly on the gash. Another hiss escapes Hunter’s mouth before he unintentionally grips your waist, a sort of semblance to ground himself. You try not to let it get to you, trying your best to focus on the task at hand while his hands feverishly grip at your waist.

While holding back his stray hairs with your other hand you begin to gently rub the pad of your thumb soothingly along his hairline. Knowing that the pain is ten times worse with his senses you know Hunter well enough at this point that having something else for him to ground on would help distract him from the pain. And to which you are proven right when he eventually loosens his grip, although still unknowingly keeping his hands still.

“i’m nearly done” You reassure him as you lean forward once again to grab the bacta patch, repeating the motion of ripping the packaging off with your teeth before applying the patch over the wound.

“okay, all done” You say before straightening up his bandana and soothing the hair back into place. One of Hunter’s hands reaches up to the side of his head “thanks” he says though slight discomfort “you’re welcome” you respond still all too aware of where his hand was placed. Hunter seemingly had read your thoughts as he eventually pulls his hand back noticing where they had been placed for all of 5 minutes. “kriff sorry cyare” he mutters, giving you the chance to step back so he can stand up “it’s alright” You say before reaching your hand up to double over the patch “depending on how fast it heals it might need another patch” You say looking over the patched up wound, his gaze unwavering as he looks down at you “not sure though” you mumble, more to yourself than to him.

You focus back on his gaze before retreating your hand back, giving him a soft smile “whatever you say General” he quips with a smirk. You give him a knowing look, squinting your eyes slightly at him in sarcastic annoyance “you don’t have to call me that anymore” you coy, his smirk practically infectious as your facade breaks, your teeth biting the inside of your cheek as you fight the urge to smile back at him.

“i know” he teases but before you get the chance to respond Tech announces that you all are on approach to Ord Mantell, the moment lost. You give Hunter a quick glance before walking into the cockpit, Echo simultaneously getting up from sitting in one of the chairs behind the co-pilot seat “what was that?” he asks knowing all too well what it was, a slight smile etching his lips. You give him a knowing look “stow it” you quip, earning a chuckle from Echo as he makes his way to aid Tech land.

[petaltexturedskies]

In this crimson and wearied autumn of withered roses and dying lilies fallen from their stems, among grass and flowers of the field, in this deep velvet softer than moss, flower-women,

Charles van Lerberghe, from "Autumn-Strawn Ground" wr. c. 1889