#[ it was literally illegal to speak Irish ]

[aworldofyou]

Before I sleep, don’t forget. Irish are indigenous peoples too by their own right, and deserve the respect warrants the name.

[4ft10tvlandfangirl]

You know what's incredibly upsetting? Seeing so many pro-Israel or pro-Zionist posts parrot that the only reason anyone could be pro-Palestine or call for a free Palestine is because they hate Jews.

I know what this tactic is meant to do and I know how making people apathetic, how discrediting their knowledge of a topic or questioning the genuineness of their empathy and other similar tactics are used to benefit the oppressive group but it's still pissing me off.

I am a descendant of enslaved people.

Our history lessons always begin with the slaughter & genocide of the indigenous peoples that were here first, primarily the Taino, who thankfully have a few descendants living in isolation along with the protected Maroon villages. It is normal throughout high school to take history trips to former great houses & plantations and see for ourselves the sites where our ancestors were brutalized and massacred; the weapons and tools of torture preserved and on display so that we knew but a taste of what they went through.

My university is built on the grounds of a former plantation. There are businesses and homes built on top of mass graves & on top of sites of slaughter. There is literally no escaping our colonial history because it touches everything. Our last names are not even our own! Most of us have English, Scottish and Irish last names given by the plantation owners to our ancestors. Or you know...because many children were the product of rape. We cannot accurately trace our true heritage more than 4-5 generations back because most families have no complete records.

A lot of you like to bring up grandparents. Cool. My great-great grandmother was the daughter of a mulatto free woman and a white Scottish sailor. She was white passing. Because land and work were hard to get here under colonial rule, she left the island for a better life with her husband who was a Cuban born mulatto and they ended up living in the US through WWII and after. They were considered an interracial couple (black & white rather than both being seen as mixed) and could not live in certain places because it was illegal. Papa couldn't find work, was treated horribly, because he had darker skin but Grandma found work passing as white and was treated much better. She worked 2-3 jobs to provide for them and their 5 children.

But, there were times when she would appear darker like if she was out in the sun too long or her curls would start to show and a Jewish neighbour/coworker suggested to her it might be safer to tick Jewish on forms rather than white if her race was ever questioned. I suppose due to that kindness the family formed friendships within the Jewish community where they lived & Grandma's eldest son actually married a Jewish woman. His kids and grandkids are all Jewish and they still live in the US.

I share this specific thing because I have very real concerns for those members of my family. But while I worry for them in this time of increasing anti-semitism and absolutely decry any verbal/physical attacks against them, I am still going to speak against things that are wrong. What Israel is doing is wrong. Of course as a non-Jewish person I can acknowledge I may misstep and if I say/do something that is genuinely anti-semitic I'll take the correction. But if your aim is just to intimidate me into silence it's not going to work.

And trying to tell me 'well black people are not welcomed there or black people wouldn't get treated well in Palestine' as if that affects the cost of bread. Guess what? Black people face racism everywhere. Even among our own and colonialism has a lot to do with that. That same grandmother, I was fortunate to grow up with her in the latter part of her life after she returned to the island and every time I went out with her there were questions of whether my family worked for her. Or why was I, this little black girl with this little old white lady as if I meant her harm. She had to say proudly, "This is my granddaughter." How other people view me or treat me isn't going to stop me from speaking up for what's right.

With the history of my people I could never ever ever side with the oppressor. Ever. Whether its here in the west or in the east, whether it's happening to my fellow black people, or any other group of people, I cannot in good conscience stand with the oppressor. My ancestors were forcibly stripped of their humanity, called savages, animals, barbarians and all of that was brutally beaten into them. That same language and similar acts of brutality are being used against Palestinians today.

You think you can cower me into staying silent on that? With unfounded accusations of hate? I refuse.

N.B. - my use of the word mulatto here is strictly to provide the historical context of how my grandparents were seen/classified and spoken of. It is not a term we use.

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 10

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Summary: Barbara learns the truth and you spy someone unexpected talking with the Feds...

WC: 3.4k

Barbara Howard is still thinking about the fact she has this ledger, and Melissa does not want it back. The woman knows that she shouldn’t open it- not with the explicit instruction from her friend to not open it, but she feels the need to. Perhaps she could help to balance the checkbook and find where the issues are in the ledger.

So, with Gerald in the office and the girls nowhere around, the woman of God opens up the ledger. And when she sets her eyes upon it, she can’t help but gasp.

It isn’t what she expects to see- not in the slightest. No, instead there are a bunch of names that she’s heard were rumored to be connected to the Irish mob, and others that she knows she's heard her husband mentioned before in his work. Lo and behold- there is the Schemmenti name.

Barbara slams it shut. She should turn this over to the police immediately, and she nearly does. She’s actually in her car and about to pull out before she stops to think what this would mean for your family.

Turning this over means that you would end up in prison, potentially Melissa too if she has any ties to this side of the illegal business. It means that the girls would grow up without a mother figure, perhaps two- ending with those two sweet girls who Barbara absolutely adores in foster care and away from her. It means ripping a family apart that she absolutely adores, even if they do have a hand in what her husband actively roots against. She cannot do this to the Schemmenti family, she decides.

Without a second thought, she hides the ledger that she now knows the truth of in her glovebox. And then she pulls off out of the driveway and heads for church.

When she gets there, she slides into the back pew silently. Barbara is the only one there, no sermon taking place. But she needs the strength that God can give her, so she prays to God by herself.

“Dear Lord,” she whispers softly, head bowed down. “Please... please grant me the strength to carry what I am holding with me now. Please keep those beautiful little ones safe and out of harm’s way. Please... please keep those two, who you know I am speaking of, safe. Please... if not for the two of their sake, for their little girls. Lord, please. I am begging. I am here begging...  because even though they are wrapped up in shady business, they are good people. They are two wonderful women who would do anything for their little girls. And God, please... if something does happen to them, please do see to it that those two little ones are spared of the understanding and disparity of the world. Gerald and I will take them in if we have to. Just please, keep them safe, and keep them from this dark and depraved world that we live in- because they don’t deserve to grow up in this world without somebody, anybody who loves them for who they are.”

She slips out of the church with her eyes down, as if she doesn’t have something that could quite literally get her killed. The woman of God speeds back to her house and hides the ledger back where it once was. There is no way she can let anyone find out she has this- especially not her girls.

By the time you leave Mickey, you feel that you know what you have to do. You have to continue to fight for this- if not for yourself, than for your family- the family that is real and true. You feel the slightest bit better having been able to speak to Melissa’s brother, and as you drive through the countryside, you allow yourself to hum along to the music that plays softly through the speakers. You’re more at ease than you’ve been in the past few days.

When you pick up Melissa, you park the car in the lot and head in through the back. She looks so at ease now, in her element. She’s humming softly to herself as she and Val continue to prep for the dinner rush, and you can’t help but let your eyes go soft as you take in the beautiful sight and sounds.

You snake your arms around her waist and kiss her cheek and then behind her ear in that one spot that almost always makes her shiver. “Hi, my love.”

“Ciao, mi amore,” she whispers back to you as she craned her neck to kiss you gently. “How was your day?”

“Actually…” You start before pausing long enough to kiss her lips again before letting her return most of her focus to her prepwork. Your arms stay around her waist. “It was good.” 

“A quiet day around the house did you good, huh hun? I knew you'd relax eventually.”

You prop your chin on your wife's shoulder. “I went to see Mickey,” You admit softly. You watch your wife's hands as she works. You notice the small pause in their process when she hears what you've said before they keep moving.

“What'd you go all the way up there for?” She mutters as she chops a pepper with a bit more force than before. “‘S a long drive.”

“A drive I needed. It helped clear my head, I think. I'll make it up to you by staying home bored out of my skull tomorrow?” You say, attempting to joke as you squeeze her waist lightly.

Melissa is quiet for a long moment. You don't push her to speak her mind. Instead you let her think as she works, just enjoying being in the presence of your favorite person. You're about to pull away from being so in her space when she sets her knife down.

She turns in your arms, hands on your wrists to keep you from stepping away when she moves. “You coulda talked to me and helped clear your head. Instead you went all the way to the pen.” She sighs, lightly brushing stray hair away from your face. “It was that bad, hey? You needed my goofy ass brother's advice?”

“C'mon, you know it ain't like that, babe.”

“Then what's it like? Tell me.”

“We've both been stressed to hell ‘bout this. How was I gonna just…talk to you ‘bout it? Wring us both through it for the hundredth time?”

The fingers caressing your cheek slide down in order to grip your jaw. “I'm your wife.” Melissa reminds softly. “That's kind of my job, amore. Go through the wringer with you as many times as we need to. I meant it when I told you ‘for better or for worse’.” 

You smile at that, just a bit. You remember when you had first started seeing each other- how you both had your doubts and fears. You remember the day that the two of you decided to lay everything out on the table, weighing the pros and cons of intermingling your businesses and how it would affect both your personal and professional life. She had told you that day that she was in it if you were. You answered her with a passionate kiss. You also remember the day that the two of you were wed and your families were officially tied together- the way that as you both spoke those words in front of your families to witness, Melissa let go of her tough act, her voice wavering and eyes shining with tears, as she told you that the two of you would be together for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death did the two of you apart.

And you have seen each other through better and worse. You’ve seen her on the happiest of days- the day you found out you were pregnant, the day the girls were born, when they took their first steps, when she opened her restaurant. And you’ve seen her through the lowest of lows- the day her Nonna died, the day she finally cracked under all the pressure with opening Twelve Tables, how she’s had quite a few moments of doubt when it comes to raising the twins. You’ve seen each other through moments of wealth, as well through moments where you were living paycheck to paycheck and doing everything you could to make ends meet. You’ve both seen one another in sickness and in health- whether that be while you were suffering from terrible morning sickness during your pregnancy with Cat and Rosie, or when the two of you were taken down by the flu that the girls brought home from daycare. You’ve held each other through it all, loving and cherishing every waking and sleeping moment that you share together, and you fully plan on it until death does the two of you apart. 

Now though, the two of you aren’t sure when it will be that death parts you. For all you know, it could be tonight. And that… terrifies you beyond belief. Even before, when things in the business got rocky, it’s never been as bad as it is now. You’ve never been in as much danger. But now? Now you’re on the forefront of this operation, and you have the feds tailing you and presumably tracing your every move.

You sigh, Melissa's eyes on yours softening you as they always do- especially now with how relaxed you can see they are. She's not upset or angry, just trying to understand your choices and remind you she's here. 

She uses the fingers gripping your jaw to pull your face to her own so her lips can kiss yours. “Sono con te amore mio. Sempre.” Melissa whispers the reminder against your lips, her hand sliding away from your jaw to the back of your neck as she kisses you deeper this time.

The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly behind you in the room makes you pull back after a moment. You gently press your forehead to your wife's, not moving away further.

“Hey, Val.” You greet your wife's manager without looking.

“How many times am I gonna have to remind you the restaurant is off limits to foolin’ around?” She teases with a smile as she moves past both of you.

“That depends.” You say as you slowly pull away from Melissa, though not completely. Your hands are still on her hips, hers are still at the side of your neck and gently threading the fingers of her other hand through your hair. “How long you plannin’ on workin’ here?”

“As long as your wife lets me, Y/N. You know that.” Val tosses back easily.

“Then I guess you got at least a hundred or so more reminders that might happen.”

Melissa lightly hits your shoulder for that. “Stop.” She murmurs. It doesn't sound that much like she means it when she kisses you again. “Lemme finish what I'm doin’ then I'll be ready to get the girls.”

You continue to hold the redhead by her waist as she finishes chopping the cilantro used for garnish before she sighs softly. “Okay, let’s go get our little tornadoes, and then… Val, I’ll be back for the dinner shift.”

“Melissa, you know I have it handled if you want to spend time with your family,” the manager reminds her.

“I think I need to be here,” the owner states. “But I might just have to bring my circus with me.”

“We’ll see you later, Val,” you nod in the woman’s direction as you guide your wife out the back door.

The second that you’re out of the restaurant though, your wife has you pinned up against the stone wall. It catches you off guard, but it’s not unwelcome. 

“Honey,” you mutter against her lips after a few minutes- your wife’s hands and lips wandering. “Baby, as much as I would love to… you do have security cameras out here, and we do have to pick up the girls.”

She groans but does pull away. “We need a night where we aren’t both so exhausted, and we can actually have time to ourselves where we aren’t just sleeping.”

“I’ll see if I can take the girls to one of our parents this weekend,” you promise her. You lead your beautiful wife down to the car, and you pull off in the direction of the girls.

Once you’ve collected them, you take them back to the restaurant, and they are all too thrilled to jump on Valentina with hugs and kisses.

“Can you keep an eye on them?” Melissa asks her manager. “Just for like… twenty minutes?”

Val eyes the two of you, who are still very much undressing each other with your eyes. “No.”

“You still want a job?” your wife threatens, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let me remind you that I do own this place.”

“You wouldn’t fire me,” Valentina rolls her eyes. “Fine. Just… don’t… anywhere where I’ll be able to see it on the security cameras.”

By the time the two of you reenter the restaurant, you’re both much more at ease. The girls are sitting at their designated table in the back with their coloring books and crayons with Val, giggling as she too doodles with them.

“We really need to give her a raise,” you sigh softly as you watch with a soft fondness in your eyes.

“Oi, remember who you're married to.” Melissa says with a small jab of her elbow to your ribs when she sees your look at the twins with Val.

You roll your eyes but kiss your wife again just to make sure she knows you definitely didn't forget. “Like I could forget being the luckiest woman in the world, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, just watch our girls, sweet talker.” Melissa answers despite her smile and a tint to her cheeks.

You take over coloring duty to let Valentina follow your wife back to the kitchen for the dinner rush that's starting to come in. The twins chatter with you about their days over their crayons and pages. You manage to keep them quiet and contained to your table until Val is bringing out little plates for them for dinner. You smile knowing well that it's your wife's work and nothing at all that's actually on the menu. The best and solely Melissa made things were reserved for your tiny twin terrors.

“Mommy!” Both your girls are saying excitedly, with mouths full a few minutes later.

“Stay here.” You say softly at them starting to scramble for your wife despite her making her way over.

Melissa sets a plate in front of you and one next to you for herself. Quickly kissing the heads of your girls and murmuring to them softly as she wipes their faces. It's only then that she takes her spot next to you for her dinner break. 

“You comin’ home with us for bedtime or are you stayin’ to close with Val?” You ask as you work on stabbing another forkful of pasta.

“I don't wanna make ya come back.” Melissa answers. “It'll be late and I don't want to—”

“No fuckin’ way.” You cut your wife off when you glanced back up from your plate, your eyes catching a table across the restaurant floor.

“Mam! That's a bad word!” Rosie says loudly from her spot standing on her chair next to you instead of sitting. You wince as most of the sentence is said directly into your ear.

“Mam you gotta pay the jar a dollar!” Cat exclaims from next to her sister, referencing the swear jar on the entertainment center in your living room.

“What is it?” Melissa asks, seeing your face. “Rosie, sweetheart, sit down before you fall.” She adds without even looking at your youngest.

“Sit down completely.” You add when you see Rosie merely crouch on her chair instead in the corner of your eye. You lean a bit more into your wife, gesturing as subtly with your fork as you can. “Look at who's sittin’ at the table ‘cross the floor.”

Melissa glances about the room, looking like she's merely checking on the restaurant and that her staff is working even though she's on break. You know when she sees it though because a half second after her head is turning back to face you, her eyes wide.

“I know that is not Uncle Dom sittin’ with the Feds in my restaurant.” She hisses out at you.

“‘Cept it is. It definitely is.” You retort, forcing most of your attention back to your meal and your daughters. 

“You think he's talkin’?”

You scoff at your wife's question. “Dom? Flipping? I don't think so, babe. I think he'd sooner have a heart attack at your restaurant for the dramatics of it than do that.”

“Then they're pressin’ him.” Melissa guesses, doing her best to not seem as if she's noticed that particular table at all.

“Or tryin’ to.” You cede. “Maybe finally gettin’ closer on the Bobby business. Realized it ain't somebody like us they should be worried about.”

“God, if only. I ain't gonna put my guard down yet though.”

“I wouldn't.” You agree.

You're nearly finished eating when Val comes to your table, leaning close to your wife's side. “Dom is askin’ for you. I told him he'd have to wait.” She relays, glancing between the two of you for reactions. 

Valentina doesn't know about the salon and it's extra business. She doesn't have to, though. She lives in the neighborhood and she knows plenty well who people like Dom are. If you guessed, you'd imagine she has an idea of who you and your wife are, too. 

“Thanks, Val. I'll take care of it, huh? You mind bringin’ the girls a couple cannolis?”

You groan as your daughters cheer and Val walks away. “Baby, why?” 

Melissa leans to kiss your cheeks. “‘Cause they've been little girls on their best behavior for their moms tonight.” She says loud enough for the twins, shooting them a smile. “And to keep them occupied just a little longer.” She adds in a whisper to you.

You reach and grasp your wife's wrist as she gets up to leave the table, watching Agent Shaw and Danik rise from Dom's table and shake his hand before they leave. You look back to Melissa who looks down at you. “Be careful, yeah?” You whisper before you kiss her knuckles. 

She smiles, her fingertips brushing your cheek in affection when you pull away. “I'll be fine.” She promises before stepping away to weave through the tables on her dinner floor.

Valentina comes over and brings your girls dessert, and they grin the entire time that they eat, the chocolate sauce and raspberry sauce finding its way more to their cheeks than their mouths. You silently curse your wife as you usher them into the bathroom to clean their sticky faces and fingers- but you have to admit that they’re absolutely precious.

“Why’re you here?” Melissa asks the older man- the one who took your salon out from under you. “And why the hell were you talkin’ to the feds?”

Dom shrugs. “I wanted dinner.”

“You know you can always get dinner over at Ma’s. You have no business bein’ in here during our rush, and you know that,” your wife says pointedly.

“They were askin’ me questions,” he tells her. “Asking about you and the restaurant- if this place had anything to do with Bobby’s murder.”

“What the hell could they be askin’ ‘bout?” the redhead grumbles. “They already searched the damn place and tore it up. I’m sure you heard about it.”

“I told ‘em that the restaurant is legit,” Dom says quietly. “I told ‘em that you put your whole heart into this place, just as you do with the salon… that they need to stop harassin’ you, or there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“We already told them that,” Melissa mutters. “They have no right showin’ up here like that.”

“Well, they did,” the man shrugs. “And it seems like you should be in the clear with the way that they saw how business is conducted- that you brought your girls here. Which is why, I have a proposition for you.”

“And that would be?”

“We start using Twelve Tables as the front.”

[abreathingrock]

Hi it's me, the third (?) of three rtc fans with any knowledge of Irish hahah

I'm so interested in ur rtc oc so would u drop the lore?? I love seeing Irish people involved in the same fandoms as me bc let's face it most of us are bastards so it's kind of unusual

WOWOWOW HIII!! It so cool to see rtc fans with Irish knowledge, especially when they take interest in my oc (I love her so much)

Strap in, I have a lot

Grew up in a gaeltacht region in galway (like Connemara type) so shes fluent(ish) in irish (i literally wish so bad)

Her parents were STINKY and were super mean, like, abusive and shit, it wasnt great for my girl

Went to a #catholicallgirlschool so naturally was bullied asf so she REALLY wasnt having fun

Had one friend who is yet to be named and they hung out together all the time, did a bunch of stuff like pierced eachothers ears, got

tatoos, burned shit, mostly illegal stuff (this is how she got arrested)

Sam and her friend would always talk about running away to Canada, it was their dream, but before they could her friend had to move away to a bording school in Dublin

This affected Sam BAD and caused her to go into a horrible space mental health wise and ultimately caused her to run away

When she got to Canada, she had stolen and exchanged a bunch of her parents money (cus she doesnt care about them and hates them) and bought the absolute cheapest place she could. A two room (kitchen/living/bedroom + sperate bathroom) apartment in Uranium City

She enrolled herself in the local school in a very illegal and fake fashion and took a uniform from lost and found cus ofc she did

She stayed low mostly in school until she met a certain Ukrainian "bad boy", Mischa Bachinski and they became the besties ever

They did most of the stuff she did with her old friend, but this time she was having more fun and felt more free due to not living with her parents and not being in that stupid ass school

Her and Mischa bonded over missing their countries (despite the horribleness Sam faced there, she still misses Ireland a whole heap) and she is the only person who believed Talia is real

Sam ends up in choir because she helped Mischa steal the wine and they sit in the back on Mischa's phone playing games, texting Talia (when they could, yk, timezones), taking dumbass selfies, etc

Mischa helped her become herself a lot more and she loves him like a brother and will kill anyone who speaks against him or hurts him. They both agreed if they ever met eachothers parents it would be on fucking sight

Ocean fucking hates Sam. Cant stand her. She thinks its insane how little she cares about school and is dumbfounded by her punk ideologies (she cant wrap her around head it, shes a little silly <3) She rants to Constance about how she needs to care more and Constance just nods and pretends to listen meanwhile she's in awe of her bravery to be herself and get away from her home.

Noel ends up taking a liking to her because he talks to Mischa sometimes but they dont really interact.

Mischa thinks shes "madwickedawesome" and "the dopest person ever, yo!!" He is the only person who knows about her old friend and the fact she had bad parents, but barely knows the half of it. He encourages her to be who she is and Sam loves him so much, theyre so bestie I cant

Ricky wishes he could talk to her because he also thinks shes pretty cool, but obvously he cant :(( She talks to him sometimes, which he appreciates, but its mostly just complaining about Ocean being annoying in choir when she tells her to get off Mischa's phone

On the day of the accident, her and mischa wander off most of the time, going on some of the rides, but staying off somewhere else most of the time. They come back to ride the cyclone because everyone else is and they both agree rollercoasters are fun.

In the afterlife, she stays talking to Mischa mostly, but begins to talk to Noel and Ricky too.

Her and Ricky end up bonding over cats cus theh both love them, and she hypes him up like crazy after SABM with Mischa

She is infatuated with Jane Doe and thinks shes cool as fuck, even if shes also pretty creepy, and tries to talk to her sometimes

Her song is...something. it starts off with her refusing to sing and Karnak being like "you have to" and begins to force a song onto her. Its chaotic and not at all how Sam wants, being a bit like TSIA.

Sam eventually is like "fine, I'll sing, but Im doing it my way you fucking bitchass machine" and her song is about being conflicted with herself, loving being open about being punk and doing all her illegal stuff, but she loves writing and poetry, something shes never told anyone even Mischa. She sings about feeling like she's always been doomed to be unhappy, always be unsatisfied with her life and missing Ireland despite her horrible life there.

She opens up about her shit parents and her old friend and after her song Mischa gives her a big hug and its cute asf :c

She, after the song, becomes more like her true self and the other choir members are all like "dam shes fucking deep" which she enjoys quite a bit

She bullies tf outta Ocean the whole time, but during its not a game she holds her hand and smiles at her for like the first time ever

Sam also talks to Connie in the afterlife and tells her to drop Ocean etc

Her and Ocean are like siblings, Sam fucking hates Ocean but if someone is rude to her the next day that person shows up with a mysterious black eye

sorry I went on a bit lol

[yanderepuck]

So yesterday I walked over Ponte Vecchio and at one end were a few artists. This one guy in particular stood out to me. Now in case you don't know, some street vendors are illegal, so I wasn't sure if artists were okay. Now I have no clue as to why they wouldn't be, they are literally everywhere.

But I couldn't stop thinking about that guy and him painting.

So luckily I actually have cash with me this trip so I went back to him just a bit ago. And I apparently deceive a lot of people, bc I will greet in Italian and all that, do the normal 'how are you". But then the man starts speaking and I'm trying to listen really hard and I go "I'm sorry... I can really only read Italian" and he just laughs so hard bc he swore I was a local (or at least Italian)

And he's like "are you sure?" And I was like "yes. I'm from America and I'm really only Irish and German" and he goes to tell me that my features are Italian like and I laugh back and go "I've NEVER heard that one" and he laughs too

And so I look through his paintings. His English is very good. I knew I wanted one of his paintings but I just couldn't figure out which one was calling to me and I go through them 3 times.

He's asking me what I do, I told him I went to art school, that I sew and that I've been thinking about trying to art again.

I finally find the painting I want and pull it out and he's like "of course it's that one. That's one of my more expensive ones" and nothing was prices but as I was looking people were asking prices so I roughly knew what to expect and I have just under €500 cash on me so I knew I had enough.

So I just go "how much" and he goes "I do have these others for €65 that are similar in case the price is too much" and I just go "how much"

He says something along the lines of "any of these other artists can tell you my prices and that they are high. But hearing how much you love art and what you do. It's €80"

And I immediately went "I'll take it' and whipped out my wallet. He seemed a little surprised. So as he's wrapping it up in some cardboard to keep it safe we keep talking. He tells me what it's like in the summer during busy season. I tell him more about what I do working wise and me traveling

And eventually he goes "I'm glad I have you that discount. You want to know how much I normally tell people? €150"

I told him that I was glad that he knows what his worth is, rather than going down in price just to be able to sell. Bc if someone loves something else then the price doesn't matter.

He was just so sweet to talk to and he was so nice.

Did the man maybe try to swindle me? Maybe. But I think he was genuine. He never told me a price as I looked, he wasn't trying to convince me to buy. He actually offered something cheaper before he even told me the price.

And here is the painting

I am so excited to get it framed

[militantinremission]

A thought about 'Minority Groups'

As I said in previous Essays- while (Indigenous) Black Americans continue to get lip service & empty tributes, i'm looking at WHO is getting WHAT. There has been a lot of activity under The Biden Administration, & I found myself looking at these events from an abstract perspective. 'Jim Crow' Joe said that he appreciated Black America 'having His back' throughout the years, & he would have Ours. Since that statement, Native Americans, Asian Americans, Latinx (Citizens & Illegals), LGBTQ..., have All received legislation & funding. On top of the $113 Billion spent in Ukraine over the last Year, Israel continues to receive Billions annually from The U.S. Now provisions have been made for 100,000 Afghani & 100,000 Ukrainian refugees to relocate to America.

We Black Americans/ ADOS/ FBA/ Freemen/ Indigenous Americans can be a well intentioned, but socially naive group. The efforts of White Supremacists w/i Local, State, & Federal Government Agencies to systemically oppress Our Community has created a 'Collective Consciousness' that empathizes (abstractly) w/ the oppression of other Ethnicities. We can identify w/ the hardship of Others, & when possible, We do what We can to combat that hardship. We fought against the oppression of American Slave Codes, Black Codes, & Jim Crow Laws; simultaneously, We fought for The Rights of Irish, Chinese, Mexican, Jewish, Italian, Haitian, Cuban, Puerto Rican, Panamanian, Filipino, & Japanese immigrants that faced a measure of the oppression We experienced here.

Looking at this 'Collective Consciousness' historically, a Pattern can be seen over the centuries. Every Immigrant Group in America has gone through a 'Hazing Period', where they are the target of Social Bias & Prejudice. During this 'Social Phase', newcomers tend to identify w/ the Black Americans that they are in contact w/. We encircle these people w/i Our Community, & take the lead in protesting injustices against them. In the past, 'Brownfolk' tended to identify w/ Us. We shared Culture & Traditions; in some instances, we intermarried. In this Era, things have changed. If Black Immigrants & 'Brownfolk' start off in Black Communities, they don't always stay.

By the 2nd Generation, their children either identify w/ The Black Experience in America, or they make every effort to move away from it. Ethnic Enclaves have literally 'popped up' outside of Black Communities over the last 30Yrs, creating true Buffer Zones between Black & White Communities. Black America was oblivious to any possible agenda amongst Minority Groups- We also identified as Minorities, & assumed We were all in the same boat. Black Power isn't a selfish endeavor- Our Right of Autonomy grants other Minorities the same Right. American History substantiates this truth. To be honest, We were naively ignorant about the 'Culture' of these Minority Groups in their Native Land. We assumed they shared a similar experience of White Supremacy.

We knew about the Racism in Europe, but were unaware of the Tribalism that existed in Afrika & The Caribbean; or the Colorism that exists in Arabia, Asia, & Latin America. Many of the minorities that We had 'First Contact' w/, were friendly. As a Marginalized People, they had something in common w/ Us. We collaborated in business & in Social Action. We shared Our Community, & worked together to improve Our collective Quality of Life. We thought that We were united in the fight against White Supremacy. Then a funny thing happened- one by one, these 'Marginalized Groups' were accepted into Society, & given Rights & Privileges that We were (still) denied.

Over the Centuries, We watched- as Irish, Jewish & Italian neighbors elevated their status. The more they achieved, the more distance they placed between Us. Collectively, each group became increasingly intolerant of Blackfolk. They began to speak the Anti- Black rhetoric of Mainstream America. Our old neighbors appeared to 'pledge allegiance' to the same people that discriminated against them. Black Americans were now victims of mob violence, stemming from (perceived) competition that Irish & Italians had w/ Black Men for Jobs. The Irish in particular, were brutal in their efforts to push Black Men out of specific Trades & Sports. The only reminder of Black involvement in Horse Racing, are 'Lawn Jockeys', that many Black People see as racist. 150Yrs- 200Yrs ago, Black Jockeys dominated Horse Racing.

As disappointed as We were w/ the actions of the Irish, Italians, & Eastern Europeans, the current Anti- Black American sentiment held by today's 'Minority Groups' (POC), truly stings! We can't say that We didn't see it coming though. Many (Indigenous) Black Americans have an experience of being 'in the company' of a given Minority Group. When they are in mixed company, the conversation is civil; but when they outnumber Us, We begin to hear the stereotypes about Us. The larger the advantage, the more prejudiced the language becomes. While they may repeat White Supremacist talking points, they lack the power to truly be 'Racist'. That being said, quite a few individuals have ridden this rhetoric into Mainstream notoriety; the names represent a literal Who's Who in Pop Culture & Politics.

Collectively, these Minority Groups seem comfortable w/ their place in AmeriKKKa's Caste System, as long as they are 'positioned' above Black America... Hispanic & Asian women are currently testing the racial waters, by way of recent attempts to gauge their degree of White Privilege. Their actions legitimize the notion that White Privilege is defined by Anti- Black Racism & Oppression. The actions of these 'Karens of Color', are no different from the garden variety Karen. All of these women are trying to exercise their 'Right', but Women Of Color are also establishing their position in the Social Caste. I personally don't understand the need to gauge one's 'Power' on the ability to harass or harm what is believed to be a Soft Target. I thought that White Supremacy is a philosophy premised on strength & 'Might makes Right'- Where is the challenge?

Joe Biden's Policy actions have made clear his intention to extend White Privilege to Asians & Hispanics. Like (White) LGBTQ... individuals, & European Jews, Asians enjoy meaningful Hate Crime Legislation. Meanwhile, Black America still fights for this legislation, as the #1 Victim of Hate Crimes in America- according to the latest FBI Crime Stats. For Latinx, Biden is fast tracking Citizenship for illegal immigrants in Sanctuary Cities. Many Cities are suggesting Drivers Licenses for illegal immigrants, while California is talking about hiring non- Citizens for the LAPD & State Police. In short, 'America' has become a Multicultural & Multilingual Nation. All of this is very curious. Just a generation ago, Local, State, & Federal Officials were adamant that America is a 'Judeo- Christian' Nation that speaks 'English'. Efforts to make Spanish an Official 2nd Language were quickly shot down. 100Yrs ago, America was a 'White Man's Country!'.

Black Americans were looking for a Seat at The Table, but didn't have a problem sharing w/ Our fellow 'Minorities'. Affirmative Action was designed to level the playing field between Blackfolk & Whitefolk. It was supposed to make up for The New Deal & G.I. Bills that excluded Black Families. Despite this, We didn't complain when these resources were diverted (via Diversity Initiatives) away from Us, & given to people who NEVER had to experience what We went through. We were as compliant as Cows being bled by Vampire Bats, until We renewed the Reparations Conversation. Suddenly, We were xenophobes. The loudest voices have come from 2nd & 3rd generation Americans, who (collectively) enjoy a better Quality Of Life than the average Black American. The fact that the children of immigrants from the 1980s are now attacking Black America w/ White Supremacist talking points, is simply mindboggling!

An Ethnic Group that appears to do A LOT of 'Racial double dipping', are Hindi/ Pakistani/ Bangladeshi Americans. They are conveniently 'Black' when there is opportunity, but otherwise, they not only identify as 'White'; they subscribe to a visceral Anti- Black sentiment that needs to be addressed. This is important, because Joe Biden is putting Kamala Harris at the forefront of his Re-election Campaign. America is still calling Kamala the 1st 'Afrikan American VP', but both of her parents are Brahmin. Kamala's 'Black Experience' ends at Howard University & Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc. She is otherwise an Elitist, who has a decades long resume of undermining Black Californians (Black Women in particular), & looking out for her own best interests.

Former Governor of South Carolina & U.N. Ambassador, Nikki Haley (Nimarata Nikki Randhwara- Haley), is the flip side of Kamala Harris. Both Women are Brahmin, but while Kamala is 'Asian' w/ a cultural leaning towards Black America; Nikki is 'Brown', but has consistently shown a cultural leaning towards White Privilege. Both Women highlight a simple truth- that 'Black' Issues aren't 'Brown' Issues. People Of Color (POC/ BIPOC) tend to be victims of Discrimination, more than Racism. This is evidenced by their Collective Autonomy throughout America. They have a Right of Expression that Indigenous Black Americans never truly had; not even during Reconstruction. It may be due to their sovereign status, but it's clear that they DON'T share Our plight.

Vivek Ramaswamy is yet another type. He is a 2nd Generation child of [Elitist] Asian Immigrants, but he tries to weave an Ellis Island narrative out of his experience. Like Kamala Harris & Nikki Halely, both of Ramaswamy's parents were Post Graduates w/ more education than the average [White] American Family. He gives the impression that they were Blue Collar Workers living the American Dream for their children. Ramaswamy casually speaks about his 'rough' Public School experience in Cincinnati, before going to a Private (Jesuit) School- that 'didn't conflict w/ his Hindu values'. This experience supposedly positioned him for College, Post Grad work, & starting his 1st Biotech Company... He implies that EVERYONE gets this opportunity in America.

Kamala Harris' Mother had the support of the Black Community in Oakland & Berkeley. Nikki Haley's Father had the support of (HBCU) Voorhees College, where he worked for nearly 30Yrs. Despite that support for their Parents, Nikki Haley & Kamala Harris have done NOTHING meaningful or specifically for Black Americans. In fact, both have supported measures that were detrimental to their Black Constituents; i'm reminded of The Tale of 'The Tortoise & The Scorpion'... Vivek Ramaswamy takes it up another notch. His 'Anti- Woke' Campaign, is a not too subtle Anti- Black dog whistle. Ramaswamy has the audacity to use his Experience (as a 2nd Generation Brahmin- American) to minimize, if he can't outright disclaim The Black American Experience altogether.

Vivek Ramaswamy's family has been in America for roughly 40Yrs. That means that they arrived sometime in the 1980s, nearly 20Yrs after the End of the Jim Crow Era; but Vivek feels that he can speak about the History of Anti- Black Racism in America. Ramaswamy, along w/ Harris & Haley represent the 'People Of Color' Prospects for POTUS. The similarity of their Agendas speaks volumes. All of them benefited from opportunities meant for Blackfolk, but they lecture Us about 'bootstrapping'. Add in Joe Biden's thoughts about Latinx being 'the largest Minority Group in America'(???), along w/ weird Culture Appropriation rhetoric coming from Eva Longoria, then John Leguizamo, & it looks like a conspiracy.

It's crystal clear that collectively speaking, Indigenous Black America has NO FRIENDS. We should act accordingly... These Minority Groups forget that Our 'Culture' is fighting White Supremacy, not bowing to it. We're not Here for a Come Up, or a Hand Out- We're indigenous to This Land. We were Here before the first Colonizer, & We'll be Here long after the Last.

-Just Sayin'

[hikarry]

I think you're literally the only Portuguese I ever saw on Tumblr

So I came for information

I'm going in Erasmus there (I wanted Italy but they didn't have a spot for me rip) and I need to know what's it like there. If it help with anything, I'm going to Coimbra? FLUC?

Parties? Pubs? Are yall nice? Do I have to worry about being harassed by middle aged men in the street?

Oh my fucking God

You are literally coming to my faculty! The chance of us crossing paths when you come is up to 80%! That's insane!

Okay okay, focus

I've lived with people from Erasmus so I think I can help

We have a group here of Portuguese people that "collects" all the people from Erasmus and programs stuff for yall to do like bar nights, clubbing, games etcetera. My old flatmates used to go to all of the events and they loved it

There are parties literally all the time here. We have 3 main clubs. One of them is specifically for Erasmus students (but anyone can go, really) and I've heard it's super fun - I'm not a club person, so eh can't help much there. My friends used to go almost every night tho

Pubs is much more my area

The main pub we used to have closed due to ✨️illegal activities ✨️ but we have a shit tone more

I usually go to the Irish pub uptown. It's hella classy and the prices are good. Got live music most of the time and ya can have lunch/dinner there also if you want

I can literally give you a map of all the Irish pubs in the city. Ive been to all of them and they are all top notch 5 stars

Also, I imagine you are coming next semester? In the first semester we have this festival called Latada. We get a week free of classes and it's literally a 1 week party with concerts. People go a bit mad there. Mainly because it's cool as shit ngl. Get ready to get Portuguese and Brazilian music stuck in your head

People from FLUC are nice. We are the letters and languages faculty so we are used to foreigners all the time. Everyone speaks English there. And we are the freaks of the university! My faculty is the one where all the queers and gays are! Listen, there's literally this cute girl I see all the time that dresses herself Lolita style. Where else would you see that? Only fluc

If you ever need any help, anyone will try and help you

Our streets are pretty safe. Sure, there's the occasional creep, but it's very rare. Just be careful with drunk college dudes. If you do go out, take trusted people with you that can have your back just in case

Alas, I won't ask you to show yourself, but if you need any help while you're around, hit me up. If you want me to know who you are, dm me. If not, send an anon ask again and I'll try to get to you as soon as I see it

Getting a house here can be a nightmare (even for us portuguese) and I might be able to help you with that. Depending on your course I might also be able to hook you up with files with all the summaries of your classes

[intothespiderverseheadthoughts]

Spiderverse OC: Bonnie MacIntyre.

- Goes by Orbweaver instead of Spider-Woman.

- Irish, has dual citizenship with the US.

- the US was a penal colony in her universe until 1800. The history is very wonky because of this and some events straight up never happened (the Civil War for example, literally everyone that wasn't a glorified prison guard was already a slave of some sort, they just fought for Freedom and made Slavery illegal immediately afterwards.)

- Late Twenties, works as an investigative reporter.

- From Earth 910.

- Other than her best friend being Harry Osborn (who is alive), having an Uncle Ben and Aunt Mei, living in a version of NYC, and losing the police Chief (Chief Gwen Stacy), she has no similarities to Peter Parker at all.

- Bonnie is rarely canon compliant and uses this to confuse and upset Miguel.

- Will use "That's why your uncle's dead" on spider-people she dislikes.

- Loves the younger spider people, Mayday, and Peter B. Parker, instant adoption. She is their bitter misanthropic older sister now.

- Bonnie is dating Harry Osborn, who is Irish/Seneca in Earth 910.

- Deeply sarcastic and tends to be misanthropic.

- Only respected Chief Stacy, dislikes all other cops.

- Openly mocks her version of Jameson on Twitter from both her spider account and her own account. Bonnie's spider account is like Wendy's, people look to be dragged by her

- Speaks Irish.

- Straight up killed her universes Kingpin and the other spider people have to stop her from killing theirs.

- Bonnie has a weird friendship with her Doc Ock. He's a 24/5, 9 to 3 threat, they riff on bad movies together every Friday night.

- Peter Parker exists in her universe but he's Daredevil instead of Spiderman. It's very disconcerting for Miguel the first time he goes and discovers that Peter is Daredevil and Orbweaver exists instead.

- if she comes across any version of Norman Osborn/Green Goblin it's on sight.

[shop-korea]

MAKING - COMPLAINT - FEMALE - BLK

WILL - ANSWER

SMILING - 'DEPRIVE - THE OWNER - YOU

OF - 'HOMELESS - NO - RIGHTS' - LIKE A

REFUGEE - AS - FOREIGNERS

'DEPRIVING - THE - OWNER - OF - THEIR

RIGHTS - 2 - THE - PROPERTY' - WHAT

PAID - IN - FULL

PROPERTY - VALUED - AT - $750 - AND

MORE - AMAZON - PRIME - ELECTRONIC

RECEIPT - OVER - 8,000 - PACKAGES - AS

TOTAL - OVER - $12,000 - AT - LEAST FOR

FLORIDA - STATES - 'VALUED'

MONEY - MARKET - PROPERTY - VALUE

INCREASED - FEMALE - AGE 59/OLDER

CAMBRIDGE - DICTIONARY

MIAMI - RESIDENTS - MAY - USE - FORCE

INCLUDING - DEADLY - FORCE

PROTECT - THEIR - PROPERTY - EMPLOYEES

OF - MIAMI - MAIN - LIBRARY - PROTECTED

WITH - DEADLY - THEIR - FORCE - THEIR YES

BOOKS - THE - FEDERAL - TAXES

PROPERTY - OF - MAIN - LIBRARY

W FLAGLER ST - MIAMI - FLORIDA

MIAMI - RESIDENTS - 'STAND' - YOU

MUST STAND - WITH DEADLY FORCE

AS - DIRECT - DESCENDANT - OF

SIR PATRICK HENRY - FOREFATHER

OF - USA - ALSO - VIRGINIA - USA

MILITIA - MEANS - MILITARY FORCE

UNIFORMED

THE - 'SECURITY - OF - A - FREE

NOT - INVADED - FLORIDA' - SPANISH

OF - CUBA - VENEZUELA - COLOMBIA

FORMER - PRES - DECLARED - NO

ENTRY - FOREVER - 2 - USA - AND

VI - FROM - EL SALVADOR - HAITI

MORE - 'FLOWER' - SPANISH WORD

MEANING - OF - SPANISH - WORD

FLORIDA - MEANING - LIKE

COMIDA - FOOD

FLORIDA - SPANISH - FOR FLOWER

FORMER - SPANISH - COLONY

FORMER - US - TERRITORY

NOW - USA - 27TH - STATE

TEXAS - 28TH - US - STATE

RIGHT - 2 - BEAR - ARMS - BENJAMIN

FRANKLIN - LITERALLY - OUR - ARMS

MORE - THAN - 1 - WEAPON - INFRINGED

'ADVANCE' - 'MARCH' - AS - RESIDENTS

OF - MIAMI - ANOTHER - DEFINITION THE

ILLEGAL - ALIEN - SPANISH

BROKE - US - LAWS

BROKE - WORLD - LAWS

INHUMANE - WITH - SPANISH - SPEAKING

VIOLATED - INTERNATIONAL - LAWS

MIAMI - POLICE - AND - SHERIFFS LAUGH

IN - FLORIDA - VIOLATED - WORLD RIGHTS

THAT - PROTECT - WOMEN AND CHILDREN

AGE 246 - USA - LAUGHS

NO - RIGHTS - AS - WOMEN - AND - KIDS

VIOLATED - US LAWS - SMARTER

AMERICANS

8TH - 'CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT'

OPEN - CARRY - MORE MEN - THAN FEMALE

ILLEGALLY - OPEN - CARRY - UNIFORMED

TAXATION - WITHOUT - A - CAUSE

BICYCLES - STORAGE - TENT - BLK

RETAIL - $69.99

ONE - PERSON - WINDPROOF - AND

WATERPROOF - TENT - RETAIL - IS

$129.99

2 - HISPANIC - MALES - ONE - STAYED

TALKED - REALLY - LOUD - AFTER - 7A

IN - SPANISH

ATTEMPTED - MURDER - 5'5 FT - ONLY

ASIANA - SMALL - EYES

ATTEMPTED - COMBAT - KNIFE - THE

STUPID - SHOULD - HE - PUT - HOLE

IN - STORAGE - TENT - THEN - PUT

HIS - UNDERWEAR - THEN - PEE PEE

IN - THAT - HOLE - AS - HISPANIC

FR - COLOMBIA - OR - CUBA

PEE PEE - ON - THE - TENTS

PEE PEE - ON KOREAN - OR TAIWAN

STEEL - FENCES - PEE PEE - THERE

BETTER - SMELL

MISOGYNY - HARM - AND - ABUSE

AND - MURDER - OF - SMALL - YES

BREASTED - FEMALES

BOUGHT - COMBAT - KNIFE

'LOVELY - RUNNER' - KOREAN DRAMA

SALE - $0.89 - LITTLE - HAVANA - FL

MIAMI - ADD - 7% - TAXES

THEN - PUT - ON - BACKPACK HIS

CABEZA HEAD - AND PUT - ON THE

EDGE - OF - TENT - HAS - SHADE

HISPANIC - 'TIME - SHARING'

LUGGAGE - THERE - HE - FELT - IT

WALMART SALE - HAS MY WEAPONS

CONCEALED - CARRY - IN - HE - WAS

TOUCHING - 4 - WEAPONS - ESTUPIDO

I - HAVE - A - WEAPON - INSIDE - SHOE

BOX - GREEN - NO - PINCH - 17 MAR 24

ST PATRICK's - DAY - IRISH - CATHOLIC

INFRINGED

MIAMI - RESIDENTS - ADVANCE

STANDING - WITH - DEADLY - FORCE

MARCH - BEAR - ARMS - WHAT - YOU

HAVE - 2 WEAPONS - AND - MORE IS

LEGAL - HAVING - PHYSICAL - ARMS

IS - WORLD - LEGAL - OUTSIDE - USA

INFRINGED - ALSO

HISPANIC - MALE - AGE 23

BROKE LAW - WORLD - USA

'MY - PROPERTY - VALUED - IMPORTANT

USEFUL - 2 - ME' - FEMALES - BLEED FR

VAGINAL - AREA - I'M - A - GRANDMA - 2

USEFUL - 4 - PORTABLE - TOILET

BLOOD - FLOW

USEFUL RIGHT - 2 - WEAR CLOTHES

AS - WOMEN - 2 - HISPANIC - MALES

DID - GRAND - THEFT -

VALUED - AS - $750 - AND - MORE

AMAZON PRIME - 8,000 - PACKAGES

$12,000 - USD - AND - MORE - ME - 59

2 - STUPIDS - I'M - AGE 60

WOOD - DRAGON - MOM - DECEASED

TOKYO - JAPANESE - DEPARTED - AGE

23 - BECAUSE - GENTLER

CONSTITUTION - AS - US - AS - WOMEN

APRIL - ARIES - DIAMOND - HARDEST

SUBSTANCE ON - EARTH BIRTHSTONE

ATTACKED - ME - 'PRESS'

'SUPPRESSED - MY - SPEECH' - WITH

SPANISH - OF - CUBA

STAND OUR GROUND

STAND - KOREAN - GIRLS

PROTECT OUR - CASTLES

WITH - DEADLY - FORCE

NON - INVADED - FLORIDA

2 - SECURE - OUR - STATE

REMAIN - FREE

VIOLATED - OUR - SAFETY

DEPRIVED - ME - OF - USE - OF

MY PROPERTY - GRAND THEFT

CONCEALED - CARRY

GRANTED - FLORIDA - ONLY

INFRINGED - STOPPED - OUR

STANDING - AND - WE DIDN'T

KNOW - ADVANCE - WITH - DEADLY

FORCE - REMAIN - STANDING

JESUS - IS - LORD

SW 2 ST - FRONT - OF - PARKING

LOT 15 - FARTHEST - SW 2 AV

REPUBLICAN - PARTY - OF - FLORIDA

01 OCT 24 - DECLARED - ILLEGAL LAW

HOMELESS - 18 AND OLDER FUGITIVES

OF - FLORIDA - LAW

NOT - MIAMI - RESIDENTS

PROTECTING - THEIR - PROPERTY

DEFENDING - THEIR - CASTLES

PAID - PROPERTY - OR - INSTALLMENT

ONLINE - 14TH - VIOLATED - BY - FLORIDA

REPUBLIC - PARTY

NO - US - STATE - CAN - MAKE - OR CREATE

LAW - ENDING - CITIZENS - PRIVILEGES

REVISED - NO - STATE - CAN - DEPRIVE - US

OF - PROPERTY - DENYING - MAIN - LIBRARY

THEIR - BOOKS - USE - OF - THEM - PAID

PROPERTY - FEDERAL TAXES - OF - LIBRARY

MAIN - BRANCH - NO - STATE - CAN - DENY

A - PERSON - OF - LIBERTY - RIGHT - 2 - ACT

AS - THEY - PLEASE

HOMELESSNESS - LIKE - LIBERTY - BELL

A - RIGHT - FOREVER

DEMOCRATS - REMOVING - 'WITH - DUE

PROCESS - OF - LAW' - VIOLATED

HOW - A - BILL - BECOMES - LAW

NON-POLITICIANS - VOTING .......

ENDED OUR SECURITY - OUR - SAFETY

MOCKED - REMOVED - 4 - HOMELESS

DOMESTIC - TRANQUILITY

14TH - NO - US - STATE - CAN DEPRIVE

US - OF - LIFE - WITH - ILLEGAL - OPEN

CARRY - OF - 'EVERYBODY' - ILLEGAL

AMERICANS - IN - FLORIDA

GOD - GOES - B 4 - ME - AND - JOSHUA

WILL - FIGHT - MY - BATTLE ...

TEAM - USA GYMNASTICS - HOORAY

6TH - GOLD - MEDAL - SIMONE BILES

PARIS FRANCE - OLYMPICS - SUMMER

JULY - AUGUST - 2024

PARIS - OVER - 2,000 YEARS - OLD - FR

[aelinsnightgcwn]

don’t really wanna get political but i am but sjms portrayal of ireland in acotar rubs me the wrong fucking way. like its obvious to anyone thats ever looked at a bloody map that prythian is mapped out as the uk and hybern is ireland. hibernia is literally the latin name for ireland?? ireland was under british rule for 800 years while the country went through a famine (where over a million people died) and it was literally illegal to speak irish (our native language). obviously the history runs much deeper, but implying that ireland is the ‘evil/bad’ place, when not taking into account their history with the ‘good guys’ ain’t a good look. ESPECIALLY since she uses irish folklore as a source of inspiration for her lore ( anam caraif - the celtic idea of a soul friend , morrigan - irish godess of war ). if an author is going to base their fantasy world geographically around two real places, who have a very fucked up history, maybe she should have done some research??

[alengmae]

Every Story Is Us (CH 5)

(AN: I was convinced by Jess to post this here. IDK why Jess but you work in mysterious ways. To read this in AO3 and my other drabbles, visit here.)

“What you seek is seeking you.”

~Rumi

Penelope choked on her the tiny sip of wine she took. She started coughing but her date carried on like nothing was amiss.

“Yeah, you remind me so much of her. You should meet Mother. I just know she will love you,” he gushed further. He gave her an expectant grin.

She gaped at him in astonishment. They literally just sat down not fifteen minutes ago, yet he was already talking about her meeting his mother on their first date. She knew it was a bad idea to trust Eloise and Fran’s idea. Tinder dates were really not her style. And, based on her first date, she felt vindicated.

She was about to set the record straight when the server came to their table and took their order. She opened her mouth to speak but her date was a lot faster.

“She’ll have the Steak Diane. You don’t mind me ordering for you, right?” he asked as he turned to her.

Penelope was too dumbfounded to respond. He was hitting all her red flags and he was completely oblivious to her irritation, which was awfully apparent since the server’s professional smile turned into a wince. She only raised her glass of wine to the server, who understood immediately her need for more booze. If the server were considerate, she would bring an entire bottle for her.

“Oh and separate bill,” he added before explaining to her with a hint of condescension, “I like to go Dutch on the first date. You don’t mind, do you? Of course you don’t!”

Honestly, she didn’t mind at all. If anything, she would have insisted on it. She felt that he was the type to lord it over after dinner, expecting for something in return. But the way he went on another tangent about his mother, she just knew she was not going to last the appetizer course.

She cursed Eloise and Fran heavily in her head. They insisted she try out the app and look where it got her. She should have followed Daphne’s instructions, to never get caught up in her younger sisters’ shenanigans. As she listened to her date drone on and on, one thing became clear in her mind. She needed new friends.

Nay, better friends.

She just moved from Ireland to London for work. And she met Eloise, a fellow teacher, not too long ago and they clicked immediately. Soon, she was invited to all their brunches and dinners. She fell in love with her family instantly, all eight of them. Although, there was a Bridgerton brother she has not met yet. Seemingly, that Bridgerton was off traveling the world and was on a lengthy tour this time around. And, if he was anything like his siblings, she knew she would come to love him too. But, right now, that love she felt for all things Bridgerton started to wane. She said she didn’t want a date but no, Eloise and Fran had to drag her kicking and screaming into one.

She was pulled out of her reverie when her date grasped her hand. He gently caressed her with his clammy hand and she nearly shivered from disgust because why was his hand so wet?

“I just knew as soon as I saw your picture you’d be the one. Even mother said you’d be a good wife with your wide-set hips,” he beamed at her.

“Oh my god,” she gasped out loud. She tugged her hand back and excused herself to the restroom. She needed to get out of this date. Never in her life had she felt so uncomfortable. She frantically dialed Eloise to come save her but there was no reception at all. Her annoyance reached an all-time high. Was there a fucking signal blocker installed in this facility? She lingered outside the restroom, hidden by the stately plants decorating the restaurant, and repeatedly scrolled through her phone for a miracle. She was close to screaming in frustration.

It was then she felt a finger lightly poke her back. She swiveled around and saw the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. He was exactly her type: tall, dark and handsome. He was incredibly fit, and wearing clothes that highlighted his muscular body. He had on a sympathetic smile and lips that were begging to be kissed. Well, hello there. Maybe his attractiveness short-circuited her brain because she just stood there gaping at him like an idiot.

“Sorry,” he modestly started, “I couldn’t help but notice. Are you alright?”

Penelope nodded, heat spreading on her cheeks. She must have looked like a mad woman, pacing to and fro in front of the restroom. She smiled weakly at him.

“Are you sure?” He glanced in the direction of her date and she grimaced. Her date was openly picking his nose in public at the moment. Penelope had to close her eyes in an effort not to shudder in repugnance. “Anne told me you might need saving.”

She perked up at the name of her server. She might have found her salvation after all. “I…actually, I might,” she bashfully admitted. “I need rescuing from my date. It’s a Tinder date.” She felt the need to explain why. Obviously, this handsome man in front of her probably think she was crazy for going on this date in the first place. And, just in case he might be interested, she wanted to make herself appear saner.

“No worries. I’m your guy,” he reassured her. When he grinned at her, she swore it went straight between her legs. The pull of her attraction to him was insanely intense. She had never felt anything like this before with other men.

“Colin, by the way,” he held out his hand, which she met coyly. “Penelope.”

She marveled at how long his fingers were compared to hers, how rough his skin was against hers and how dry his hands was compared to her date. Her mind started to wander to more wanton thoughts as he shook her hand. His fingers should be illegal, she mused. When he let go, she already mourned the loss of contact.

“Alright, Penelope. I’ll be your knight in shining armor tonight,” he stated excitedly.

Ugh, and he’s charming too? How the hell was he real?

He urged her back to her date without a game plan, only a wink. She got too pre-occupied with said wink to even ask about how he planned on rescuing her. She reluctantly sat down across her date again.

“You sure took your time there,” her date stated said evenly. “I hate waiting. Be more prudent next time.”

She almost threw the basket of breadsticks to his face. Colin better come right away or else, she will stab the man in front of her in the eye with a breadstick. Before she could openly berate him, Colin marched to their table purposefully. He stopped with a loud dramatic gasp.

“Penelope, how could you?” he bellowed scandalously. “After ten years of marriage, this is what you’re doing?”

“What the fuck…” she mumbled in shock at his theatrical display. Her date appeared to be equally confused at the scene in front of them.

“And you left Colin Jr at home by himself to meet up with this man?” Colin continued his melodrama without pausing. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“Wait, you have a kid?” her date’s furious question jerked her from her bewilderment.

“I-“

“I thought you were a virgin!” he cut her off, for the nth time this night.

“That’s where you draw the line? Me not being a virgin?” her incredulous voice was shrill in affront.

Even Colin stopped with his dramatics with a revolted, “Dude.”

Thankfully, this was the moment her date decided to storm out. “Mother was right, after all. Never trust anyone from the internet,” he spat at her before he left.

Penelope hissed back, “It goes both ways!” She clutched her wine glass and chugged the contents in one go.

Colin took her date’s seat and stared at her, eyes twinkling in amusement.

She glared at him. “And you, Colin Jr really?” she asked with a huff.

“I got carried away. You should have seen your face!” He laughed out loud. But she had a sneaking suspicion that he planned it all from the start. She supposed, once that her outrage had passed, it was hilarious. She started giggling with him.

He was about to stand when the food came out, along with a bottle of wine. Penelope stopped him from leaving. “It’s a shame to waste all these food I’d end up paying for. And really want to thank you for saving me from that horrible date.”

He appeared hesitate so she added further, “After ten years of marriage, this is the least I could do.”

He laughed out loud again. It definitely was her libido acting up because she felt herself swoon slightly to his baritone laughter. She found herself wondering if he had a Tinder account. He gestured for her to pick which plate was hers. She gratefully took her previous date’s salmon dish and pushed the steak towards him. They ate, happily chatting about everything under the sun. He regaled her with stories of his vast travels, one story similarly exciting as the next. She offered her childhood tales from her Irish motherland. He started talking about his work, and how he just came back from Morocco after missing his boisterous family. And she started opening up about her insecurity of being in an unfamiliar country all by herself. He held her hand in consolation as she admitted succumbing to homesickness sometimes. He comforted her by recounting comical anecdotes from his travels.

If she was awestruck by his good-looks, she was even more enamored by his wit and sense of humor. He made her laugh so hard but he also made her think. There was nothing sexier than a sharp intellect. He was becoming more dangerous to her as more times passed.

They stayed together until it was closing time. And she barely noticed the passage of time. It wasn’t until Anne cleared her throat in front of them that they noted that they were the only patrons in the restaurant left. She awkwardly asked for the cheque but Colin stopped her.

“This one’s on me, Anne.”

Their server nodded and bid them a good night before leaving.

“What? Wait, Anne!” She tried stopping her but her pleas fell on deaf ears. “I was supposed to treat you,” she grumbled lightly to Colin.

He shrugged. “How can I ask the mother of my child, Colin Jr, to pay for our date?”

She paused, blushing profusely. “Even if she dared to date someone else tonight?” she teased playfully.

He leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “Even when she tried to date someone else tonight. And might I add, she looks absolutely lovely tonight.”

Smooth like fucking butter. Her face must be red as a tomato right now, she reckoned. “Well, Colin Jr’s dad is not bad looking either.”

He beamed at her. She wanted to look away because he was too beautiful, it’s just not right. But he gently grasped her hand and asked softly, “Can I have your number? I really liked our time together and I really like you.”

“I like you too,” she replied, breathless.

He started leaning towards her, eyes locked on her lips. She did the same, magnetically slanting her body closer to his. Just when they were a fraction of an inch away, the kitchen door busted open with Anne bustling out.

“Boss, do you want-oops! My bad!” She retreated as fast as she came.

Damn it, Anne! Her scowl must have been a sight since he started chortling. He kissed the back of her hand reverently after to assuage her.

“Wait, she said boss?”

It was his turn to be sheepish. “I own this place.”

She blinked. That explained his intervention. “I clearly chose the wrong place to cheat on Colin Jr’s father.”

“I don’t know. I thought you were at the perfect place and time. I think I’m plenty lucky tonight,” he said sincerely.

She didn’t think she should voice out that if he kept on being sweet like that, he will get even luckier tonight. She only replied, “I’m glad.”

She exchanged numbers with him eagerly before bidding him a good night. But before she could step out from the restaurant, he gathered her in his arms and crashed his lips against hers. And it was magic and satisfaction and bliss and release all rolled into one. She clung to him, desperate against the tide of overwhelming emotions. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, she was completely swept away. It felt as if she would come undone with just a flick of his tongue. When they broke apart, they were gasping for air and sporting giddy grins.

“Good night, Colin,” she called out sweetly.

“Good night, Penelope.”

She didn’t sleep at all that night. The butterflies in her stomach were too flighty. And her excitement could not be abated, even as she knew she was attending a Bridgerton brunch the next day. She was groggy when she came in but a smile could not seem to leave her face.

Eloise pulled her aside to interrogate her about her Tinder date last night but the flurry of excitement filled the room. Everyone was enthusiastic for some reason. “The long lost Bridgerton is finally coming home. The prodigal son has returned,” Eloise said wryly. But Penelope detected her friend’s delight beneath all the sarcasm.

“Oh, that’s good,” she could not help but mirror her friend’s pleasant demeanor. She was already riding the high from last night. Another cause for celebration was just the cherry on top.

“Yeah, apparently he came back yesterday from Morocco in secret so he could surprise us. But Hyacinth still can’t keep her trap shut, ruining the surprise.”

“Morocco?”

It was then that she heard a familiar voice bellow out his greetings. She whipped her head fast and her eyes met his across the room. It was cliché but she would swear to anyone who would listen that at that moment, time slowed down. When their eyes met, it felt like nothing else mattered. And her heart leapt in anticipation as he crossed the sea of people to meet her.

“Penelope?”

“Colin.”

“You two know each other?” Eloise asked, awed.

She smiled brightly, eyes locked onto Colin. “Of course! We’ve been married, what…ten years now?”

He snickered harder upon seeing everyone’s bewildered faces. “Colin Jr missed you last night.”

Eloise interrupted again, “Is he talking about his dick?”

Penelope chose to ignore her friend now that Colin intertwined his hand with hers. “Did he now? I should go visit him some time.”

“I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic with your visit.”

“So how does tonight sound?” she asked, playful in her inquiry but nervous with his answer.

He kissed the back of her hand sweetly. “Perfect. I know a place. They serve the best Steak Diane.”

She laughed.

[twdeadfanfic]

St. Patrick’s night III

Murphy MacManus x Reader

Summary:  You’re left alone on St. Patrick’s night, the people you were supposed to hang out with  seemingly having forgotten you, but what seemed to be an awful night turns into something completely different when you meet the MacManus twins.

Another chapter for this thing that was supposed to be a one-shot but got out of hand...

The next day at work, you were once again distracted thinking about the MacManus twins. You wondered if they meant it when they’d said they’d pick you up from work that day, you were a bit worried that they wouldn’t, but you couldn’t see them lying like that…maybe they’d forget, though, or something else would come up… You knew it was better not to overthink it, though, and you tried to focus on doing your job.

It wasn’t easy, though, as you kept wondering about Murphy, and how he hadn’t said anything about having kissed you, and he hadn’t kissed you again either… You knew it was probably because he’d kissed you only because it was St. Patrick, but, what if he thought you didn’t want to kiss him? That you weren’t interested? Maybe you should have said something when he’d kissed you? You wouldn’t mind kissing him again…

You wouldn’t mind taking time to get to know each other either, see if you both wanted to go on dates or something…your cheeks heated up at the idea, feeling nervous already and it was just an idea in your head…and Murphy might not even be interested. He hadn’t said anything about it after all. Maybe you should try to gather the courage to actually ask him yourself…it sounded intimidating, though…

Focusing on your job was proving to be hard, even if you tried your best, and you couldn’t stop counting the hours until you were done, barely managing to eat your lunch. Once the clock marked five, you and your coworkers began to clean up your desks and put everything into place before gathering your own stuff and leaving.

You walked in front of a group of your coworkers, who were talking and laughing together, ignoring you, but you didn’t care anymore, you were better off without them. As you walked outside, you saw the MacManus waiting for you, and you couldn’t help your smile. Yes, you were much better with the twins as your friends than trying to socialize with the assholes you worked with.  The brothers smiled too when they saw you, approaching you to greet you.

“Hi, lass.”

“Hi, you came.” You didn’t mean to sound like you had thought they might stand you up, but you did sound a bit surprised.

“Of course, love, we told ye,” Murphy said, frowning.

“Yeah, yer a woman of little faith, lass,” Connor teased you, but he frowned when he saw your coworkers walking out of the building too, stopping at the door to chat and say goodbye to each other without even giving you a glance. “Don’t blame ye, considerin’ the kind of pricks yer surrounded with,” Connor said, didn’t seem to mind if your coworkers hear him or not…you were a bit afraid of their reaction if they did…but no, Connor was right, they were pricks.

Murphy was looking at your coworkers too, but he wasn’t frowning like Connor, instead, he smirked as his eyes filled with mischief, and you barely had time to wonder what he was up to before he’d stepped even closer to you, reaching to cup your face, and then he was kissing you.

It wasn’t as tentative and soft as the St.Patrick’s kiss, neither as brief, and you felt your brain sort of melt as butterflies seemed to flutter in your belly. Your hands found their way to Murphy’s shoulders almost by their own accord, but he didn’t seem to mind, as he placed a hand on your waist while the other kept cupping your cheek, even when he pulled back.

You could only blink at him in silence, your brain still feeling a bit numb in the best way, and Murphy smirked at you.

“Better than the St.Patrick’s kiss, love?” He asked, loud enough for your coworkers, who had gone silent, to hear. You nodded, still wordless, and Murphy’s smile went bigger.

“So…should I kiss the lass too or…” Connor said, and it was obvious that he was joking, but Murphy frowned nonetheless, scoffing as he shoved his brother, who chuckled.

“Come on, love, let’s go.” Murphy smiled at you, offering you his arm, and you felt a bit shy but hooked your arm with him, smiling bashfully when Murphy smiled at you. Connor smirked and walked to your other side, hooking his arm with yours too, and Murphy rolled his eyes. “Will ye quit?!” He complained, trying to hit his brother, and so you ducked your head.

“Hey, not fighting while I’m in the middle…” You joked, chuckling.

“Sorry, lass,” both twins apologized as you three began walking, Connor letting go of your arm.

“So…do you have plans?” You asked as you walked.

“What if we get somethin’ to eat and go to our place before goin’ to doc’s?” Connor suggested.

“We live right in front of the pub,” Murphy explained.

“Well, that’s convenient,” you chuckled. “Okay, sounds good.”

The Irish neighborhood wasn’t close to your work, but you went walking anyway. You didn’t mind, and neither did the twins, who kept arguing about what to get for dinner. Murphy wanted pizza and Connor Chinese, and both twins were trying to win you to their side, but you didn’t mind, you liked both.

“Come on, ye have to pick one,” Murphy told you. “And sure ye know pizza is better, aye?” You didn’t know how Murphy could look like trouble one second, then the next he could give such convincing puppy eyes, but you were about to cave and pick pizza even if ye were leaning more to Chinese.

“We literally had pizza yesterday,” Connor complained, rolling his eyes at his twin before looking at you. “Seriously, lass, we’d only eat pizza if it were up to him.”

“Ye weren’t complainin’ that much when ye ate a whole pizza by yerself…” Murphy grumbled.

They both looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to choose, and you tried not to give in to Murphy’s puppy eyes. “Well, if you had pizza yesterday, then I’d say it’s fair that we have Chinese today.”

“Aye!” Connor nodded, looking at his brother with a smug grin, and Murphy scoffed.

“Can’t believe ye betrayed me like this, love,” he pouted, but then he was smirking, and so you knew he didn’t mean it.

“We can have pizza any other day,” you offered, smiling.

“Aye? Ye wanna eat with us another day?” Murphy asked, grinning in that way that lighted his face in such a pretty way that gave you all the butterflies.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, looking down shyly. “If you wanna.”

“Sure we do, love,” Murphy said with that pretty grin and Connor nodded, smiling.

“Okay..okay, great.” You smiled bashfully, glad that it seemed they did want to eat with you any other day and hang out with you.

*

The brothers hadn’t been kidding, they did live in front of the pub, in an old building that didn’t seem quite fitting for housing… You didn’t know how you expected their place to be, but certainly not what you saw when you walked in, and you blinked as you looked around.

It was…it was illegal lofting, that for starters, you were sure of it, and the distribution was…peculiar, so to speak, especially for people not living alone, considering that there were no rooms. Not even a bathroom, there was no wall or anything at all hiding the toilet, neither the row of showers against the wall. You get that the MacManus were twins and all that but…they really did not seem to care for privacy. You really hoped that you didn’t have to pee while you were there, because you weren’t about to do it in front of them.

The place was small, and there wasn’t much there. On one side, there was a couple of mattresses on the floor, separated by a nightstand table in which you saw a couple of mugs and bottles of beer, a small table with some more empty bottles of beer and empty packages of pizza, and a couple of ashtrays full of smoked cigarettes, and some mismatched chairs around it.  Against the wall, there was a tattered sofa that seemed about to die, a small tv on top of an even smaller table, and for some reason, the fridge was between the sofa and the tv, with a lamp on top of it…peculiar, but the whole place was…peculiar.

On the other side, there was a small, old stove, an older sink, and a small worktop which surface was almost covered by bottles of booze, some still full but most empty. If you had any doubt that the boys liked to drink, it was gone by now.

You didn’t want to seem rude or shallow, or judging, or anything like that, and so you stopped looking around like that. The brothers hadn’t seemed to notice, though, or to care, they walked in and took off their rosaries, hanging them on a couple of nails on the wall next to the door, and then Connor left the Chinese takeaway on the table.

“Ye hungry, love?” Murphy asked you and you nodded, since you had barely been able to eat your lunch as you wondered if the MacManus might forget that they had made plans with you, which now sounded silly, you shouldn’t have doubted them.

“Let’s eat,” Connor said as he began to take the food containers out of the bag, the smell making your mouth water already.

You stepped closer to the table to help him with it, and your eyes landed on an open notebook under a beer bottle, spotting some drawings and doodles on it, though before you could get a closer look, Murphy snapped it, almost making the bottle fall, and he closed the notebook and threw it to one of the mattresses.

You frowned, confused, but Connor snorted. “Murph likes to get all artistic sometimes,” he said, prompting Murphy into hitting his twin’s head as he snapped at him to shut up.

“You draw those?” You asked, looking towards the notebook on the bed before looking at Murphy, who to your surprised, seemed almost shy. For how cocky and smug he seemed to look more often than not, it was strange to see him looking almost embarrassed, and you didn’t like it. You hated that you had made him feel like that.

“Yeah, he drew our tattoos in that notebook of him,” Connor said, nodding.

“Told ye to shut up,” Murphy snapped again and this time Connor was quick to stop his hands before he could hit him.

“I think that’s really nice!” You rushed to say, and you meant it, you were impressed. “Seriously, it’s great!”

“Aye?” Murphy looked at you like he thought you didn’t mean it, or even like you were trying to make fun of him, and so you nodded eagerly, smiling.  He still seemed a bit embarrassed, but he smiled at you. “Connor draws too, he tattoed all mine,” Murphy said, gesturing to his neck, and before you could say how impressive that was, Connor spoke.

“You did all mine better.” Connor shrugged, reaching to grab Murphy’s arm and frowning at the tattoed cross. “Parts of this look wonky.”

“I think it looks great!” You said, impressed. “Both his and your tattoos, it’s so impressive, seriously!”

“Aye?” Murphy asked you, his smile bigger now.

“Yes!” You nodded. “Seriously, you not only draw your tattoos but you tattoo them too?! It’s amazing! If I ever want a tattoo, I know who to ask!”

“Ye’d ask me?” Murphy asked with a smile that made you feel all funny and smile too, and you nodded.

“Sure, why not?” You shrugged, and Murphy gave you that pretty, bright smile, that made you consider if he might mind it if you kissed him again…

You barely noticed Connor as he began fumbling with the food containers again, focused as you were on Murphy and that damn smile, but when you finally looked at Connor, you noticed that he seemed amused at Murphy and you. You felt your cheeks heating up a bit, and you tried to kick your brain into working again, helping with the food.

You three decided to settle on the sofa for dinner instead of at the table, since Connor suggested that you could watch a movie, even if you weren’t sure that old thing would hold you three without falling into pieces, and so they dragged the tv in front of the sofa. Connor had a small stack of what seemed old action movies, and once again you had the final vote on what to watch, since the twins kept arguing about it, Murphy complaining that they’d seen the movie that Connor’d picked a million times already while Connor retorted that it was classic worth watching another million times.

You didn’t give it much thought, you didn’t care much and you didn’t want the food to go cold while the boys argued. Since you had sided with Connor on what to eat, this time you voted for Murphy’s choice of movie. He smiled smugly at his twin, but Connor didn’t complain much, since he liked that one too.

It was so much fun, to eat and watch the movie while the twins kept commenting on it, usually Connor saying details that you hadn’t cared to notice before, things that he liked, and Murphy just making fun of it until they both hit each other from time to time, but you knew they didn’t mean anything bad by it, so it was fun too…you didn’t know what was more entertaining, to watch the movie or to watch the MacManus…they had a way of moving in sync most of the time that was hypnotizing, even if it was just to bring food into their mouth, but when they began bickering they were so endearing and funny…you loved it.

At some point, though, once you three had finished your food, you started to find it hard to focus on the movie, as you felt Murphy’s fingers playing with your hair. You froze for a second before looking at Murphy, who was sat down between Connor and you. He smirked at you and you felt your cheeks heating up but a smile tugged at your lips too, it seemed that every time that Murphy smiled, you couldn’t help but smile too.

Murphy’s smirk went wider at that, and his fingers caressed your hair again before he casually placed his arm around your shoulders. It felt nice, to have him so close to you, almost kind of holding you, but you couldn’t stop your shyness and nerves. You tried to relax, though, you didn’t want Murphy to think that you were uncomfortable or that you wanted him to move away from you…not that there was much space left on the small, tattered sofa though.

“Ye both ain’t lookin’ at the screen, yer gonna miss the best part of the movie,” Connor complained, and you looked away from Murphy and to the tv, a bit embarrassed at being caught by Connor staring at his twin, but also part of you was kind of glad to escape Murphy’s intense glance, that made you feel shy while also making you feel twirls in your belly…

“The whole movie is the best part of the movie for ye,” Murphy scoffed, chuckling.

“It’s a damn good movie,” Connor said as he shoved his brother, pushing him closer to you…not that Murphy seemed to mind, and honestly, you didn’t either, even if it made you shy.

You still wondered what was Murphy’s deal, though, if he wanted just to mess around and have fun, kiss you sometimes, hold you while you watched tv it seemed too, and that was it, or if it meant something else, more. You still didn’t know how to bring it up, how to ask, you knew you should, so as not to obsess, thinking and wondering about it all the time, but the idea of asking him made you feel so awkward… You decided to just enjoy whatever it was, at least for that night.

Once the movie finished, and Connor’s monologue about it finished too, you three made your way to the pub. No sooner had you stepped inside, you excused yourself and rushed to the bathroom. You had been needing to go for a while now, but since there was no walls or anything hiding the toilet at the MacManus’ place, you had been waiting until you were at the pub, no matter neither of the twins had seemed to have any qualms about it while you were there.

Once you left the bathroom, you noticed that the brothers had sat down on one of the tables instead of at the bar counter, and you liked it more. They were sat down next to each other, and when you approached them, Murphy smiled at you, pushing a pint towards the seat in front of him, while Connor looked at you seeming amused.

“We ordered ye a pint, love, hope it’s okay? Murphy asked you.

“Yes, it’s perfect, thanks.” You nodded as you sat down, but you frowned at Connor, wondering why he seemed so amused, and he noticed it, smirking.

“So, lass…I was tellin’ to my brother that ye were too shy to take a piss at home and that’s why ye ran to the bathroom like that,” he said, and you almost groaned aloud, mortified and beyond embarrassed. Your cheeks burned and you almost hid your face on your hands. “See…told ye.”

Connor chuckled, looking at his brother, and you felt like hitting him in the head like Murphy sometimes did…they both seemed to enjoy embarrassing each other, and you hoped Connor, or even both, hadn’t decided to extend it to you too and try to embarrass you too.

“What…but lass, ye got nothin’ to be embarrassed about!” Murphy said, which just made you feel more embarrassed. “We all gotta piss!”

“Can we just…talk about anything else at all? Please?” You begged, feeling your face so hot that you wouldn’t be surprised if it caught fire.

The twins seemed to take pity on you, letting it go, and they began telling you about one day at work in which Murphy got himself locked inside the bathroom of the meatpacking factory. and Connor had to “throw the door open to rescue him, lass, we had to pay for it, ‘cause Murphy was an idiot,” he explained, earning a shove from Murphy.

“I ain’t an idiot, the lock was not openin’ no matter what, I promise, love,” Murphy insisted as if it was a matter of life or death.

“I believe you,” you assured him, laughing, and as the brothers began bickering again, you couldn’t help your grin looking at them, they were just so fun to be around, that soon you had forgotten your earlier embarrassment.

Unsurprisingly, the MacManus finished their drinks before you, and so Murphy went to the bar counter to order a couple more. The waitress was busy waiting tables, Murphy had been right when he told you that the pub was busier at the weekends, there was almost the double of people than you had seen before, and so the twins didn’t want to bother the waitress.

You looked at Murphy as he waited for Doc to get him the drinks, getting lost in thought again. You had tried to, but you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to what Murphy thought of you, of this thing that seemed to be going between you and him, whatever it was…

You heard Connor chuckling and when you looked at him you felt your cheeks heating up at his amused smirk.

“Do I wanna know what are ye thinkin’ lookin’ at my brother like that…or don’t I?” He teased you, arching an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you murmured, looking down, and judging by Connor’s chuckle, he didn’t believe you.

“He’s been all corny and givin’ ye the heart eyes since St. Patrick’s too, it’s made it easier to mess with him, gotta thank ye for that,” Connor chuckled again.

You felt as if your heart had done a summersault while butterflies decided to flutter in your belly…Murphy gave you the heart eyes? Really? Connor knew his twin, so it must be true, right? Unless Connor was just messing with you…it didn’t seem like so, though.

Connor looked at his brother, who was coming back with their drinks. “Don’t go breakin’ my brother’s heart, though, lass.” His voice let you know that he was joking, but anyway, you didn’t plan on doing that, you were more concerned about the opposite…still, the sight of Murphy’s grin as he sat down in front of you, had you smiling like an idiot again, despite the mess of feelings in your heart and the mess of thoughts in your head, despite any concern about what was going on between you and him.

*

Well, we got kisses.

If you liked this, reblogs and comments are more than welcome, thanks.

As always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

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[angelicbabydolll]

Why can't all the non Irish people not understand how offend we all are as a nation of one of us gets called American

Ok so obviously I’m going to have to explain to these people out there why I’m offended so they can stop getting ready to be offended.

Ireland fought so hard for its independence. The Irish people suffered so our country could be a republic. So many lives were lost for the sake of a free Ireland. So! Where shall we start? How about the 19th century where Ireland took inspiration from America and France and tried to have their own revolution. This went to shit seeing as we had axes and hammers and the brits have bayonets and burning hatred for any many that dare speak in the Celtic tongue. I just want to point out here that the Irish language was literally stripped from us. We were stripped from our National language because the British couldn’t understand what we said. That right there should be enough for you to understand why I’m so angry that people think I’m not Irish when I’m so proudly Irish I literally have it plastered all over my blog.

But! Let’s keep going shall we folks? Fabulous. 1914 World War I. Britain’s problem really. But no they decided ‘Awh lads look there’s a whole island there with at least two million men we can get to France’ so conscription comes into Ireland. Making any man between the ages of 17-27 fight in France under the British flag. Britain didn’t give a fuck about the Irish at this time. They genuinely didn’t. The only reason these men even went was because they knew their families would be getting a small wage to keep food on the table. Please know this wage barely kept food on the table. Also let’s just highlight the fact that the only job an Irish man could get at the time was to literally get shot in the middle of a dirty field in France thousand of kilometres away from home so their children or their mothers or whatever would not die from starvation. So! The men who had refused to go came together and fought against the British. Their thinking here was that most of the British forces would be in France or in England fighting. So they planned to take key point in Dublin, cork and some rural areas at the time like Wexford. Unfortunately these men were outnumbered and many were either imprisoned or died in the crossfire. But the rising on Easter Sunday in 1916 is such a key date to us Irish as it’s the first time the Irish proclamation was ever read out and the first time the Irish flag was ever hung over a government building. So please don’t come at me with ‘I’m offended’ because no. IM offended. This is my history. These are my people.

Let’s move on. 1921. The meeting is the first Irish government in Dublin ( which was actually illegal as English government did not recognise the party ). But at the same time a small band of Irish rebels in Tipperary killed two English soldiers. This led to a 2 year 5 month 2 week and 6 day war between the Irish rebels ( when really it was pretty much every single Irish person in the country as they aided the rebels in some way. Whether that was with housing them, feeding them or just lying for them) against the British forces Churchill had sent over. ( i fucking hate this man ). This was such a bloody, horrific and cruel war. On both sides I will be honest. But what the British soldiers did to the Irish was beyond what you could call torture and still to do this day I cry when I hear stories or see photos.

The Irish have been through so much to try get to where we are now. Fuck we fought since the 19th century and we weren’t even recognised as a republic until the 1960’s. We didn’t even aid in World War II. We were neutral because the Irish people had been through too much. When we asked for our country we were told ‘you can have some of it’. And we had to accept that because it was the best we were going to get.

So please don’t come at me with the whole shit of you being ‘offended’ because I don’t want to be American. I don’t. And it’s not because I have anything against Americans, it’s because I’m so fucking proud to be Irish. I wouldn’t want to be anything else.

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Two - Gutless

WORD COUNT: 4k

WARNINGS: Death (murder), brief descriptions of gore, Isla and Jax doing something very illegal

MASTERLIST

The morning sun was beating down upon the pair a little bit harsher now, inducing a sheen of sweat to coat over Jax's forehead.

But the perspiration could've formed as a result of coming to the realization that he'd just blown the brains out of an ATF agent, left his body to decompose on Tara's bathroom floor, and spilled his guts--not even twenty-four hours later--to Isla.

Jax knew that he could trust her with anything--he always had been able to trust her with anything. But there was something telling him that she didn't exactly feel too wonderful about his revelation.

Her arm lifted to run across her forehead, ridding the skin of a few salty droplets.

"What do you mean--"

"I mean I put a bullet through his fuckin' skull and blew his brains out, Isla! That's what I mean."

He ran a thumb over his lips, realizing that he should've kept his tone subdued so close to the main doors of the clubhouse.

"Jesus, Jax." She breathed out, pinching the bridge of her nose as he started to pace quietly. "I--I can't believe you're telling me this."

Well, she could. Really, there wasn't anything she could've put past Jax anymore. And when it came to Tara...The man was an idiot. Always had been.

"Why was Kohn even at her place?"

Jax was fidgety. Uneasy. She couldn't blame him for that, could she? Because he'd just fucking killed a man--but still.

He wasn't even trying to hide it.

"Or did you lure him there or something--"

"Shut up." He growled, grabbing her bicep with his left hand as he pulled her to the side of the building. "Just listen to me."

"I'm listening, Jax, but you don't seem to be telling me a lot."

Realizing that he wasn't offering very much explanation, he nodded. Jax let go of her and beckoned her closer, pleading eyes melting her fucking heart.

"Isla, please." He wrapped his arms around her, minding the bloodied shirt.

"What do you want me to do?"

Ringed fingers splayed over her cheek, pushing stray blonde hairs out of her face. He sighed hard. Exasperated.

"Help me get rid of him--"

"Jackson--"

"I'm not asking you to lug his dead body to the creek and throw him in. I'm just asking you to offer a helping hand and be a lookout or something."

Isla searched his features for a morsel of something that'd indicate Jax was messing with her. But he was dead serious--his face set to neutral, eyes glazed over.

"But--I--what about Cameron?"

"Tara and Chibs have it covered." He murmured, heeding the apprehension sail over her.

She was as strong and willing as she possibly could've been. Isla was consistently the person that Jax and Opie would turn to for advice when it came to their girls, or when they needed to be pointed in the right direction.

But he'd never asked her to do such a thing before.

Her loyalty outweighed her nervousness, however. He knew she'd never say no to helping him with such a matter--but it was still asking too much.

Chibs would've been furious that Jax felt it necessary to beg Isla for assistance during such a time, too. Hell, Gemma would've admonished him for it.

"Where is he?" She mumbled, hearing the clubhouse door open and an irritated grunt sounding from the front of the lot.

Jax held her close to his chest, a hand tracing over the skin of her shoulder that'd been exposed as the shirt fell to the middle of her arm.

"Tara's place." His whisper was monotonous, bordering on lifeless.

"Okay--when do you need to do this?"

He eyed Tig storming from the building and toward his motorcycle, completely unaware of the two conspiring.

"Tonight." His voice came low and gravely. "I'll ride to her place now, and you go home, get yourself cleaned up, do whatever you've gotta do today, and we'll head there--"

"I'm not cleaning myself up. I'm already covered in blood--I don't think I need to destroy another shirt."

"Okay." Jax's lips rubbed together, almost turning upward into a smile. "But don't follow me out, alright? Go tell Gemma that you don't know where I went, and then you take it from there."

"And if Tara asks..."

A gentle kiss against her forehead almost forced tears to collate in her eyes.

"She won't ask--she knows I've gotta do this."

Isla silenced herself, though she nodded and watched as Tig--pissed as hell--rode out of the lot and onto the street.

She guessed that he was still piqued after she and Chibs yelled at him.

And she was still pissed at Jax, but for a different reason now.

This time, she wanted to slap the shit out of the blonde idiot standing before her, requesting help with disposing of a literal dead body.

Isla couldn't quite believe that Jax had turned to her and not somebody like Opie--somebody who would be able to help a little more physically--but she could only assume that it was more of a trust thing.

He had a lot of faith in her and she lauded that. But it also saw her get thrust into some questionable situations.

"You look like you're gonna puke." Juice stifled a laugh as Isla padded in, the bottom of her shirt wrenched between bloodied fingers. "Are you good?"

"Yeah." Instantly, she responded. "I'm fine. I just need to get my purse."

Clay was nowhere to be seen--possibly in the back room with Chibs and Tara--but Gemma's eyes focused on the blonde's form as she strolled across the wood.

"You don't look fine. Come sit for a little while."

"I'm gonna head home--"

"Where'd Jax go?" Gemma cut in, lifting an eyebrow conspicuously.

Tell Gemma that you don't know where I went.

"I don't know." She frowned, sitting on the barstool opposite the woman. "We shared a cigarette, talked about Abel, and then he told me he had to go--where, I don't know."

Did she feel bad about roping his child into their little lie? Yeah, a bit. But it was foolproof. Gemma never would've suspected anything to do with Abel because, really, Jax brought him up to everyone whenever he got the chance to.

"Ah. He's probably headed over to see him. I'll go--"

"I wouldn't." Isla pushed. "He's trying to get some alone time with him. He said that he hasn't really been able to spend one-on-one time with Abel all too much."

Which wasn't a lie. Jax needed to spend those rare solitary moments with his baby because his mother couldn't seem to leave St. Thomas for more than three hours at a time.

Gemma just hummed, turning away.

She knew how he felt. But she was Abel's grandma--she just wanted to know that he was safe and being looked after.

"I'm sorry, that was mean...I just think he's a little confused right now, and could use five minutes with his son."

"No, you're right." She nodded, unable to heed the trepidation flitting over Isla because she felt bad about coming down on Gemma in such a way.

That woman was a Godsend to Jax, his children, and even Isla's family. She didn't deserve to be randomly admonished for wanting to visit her baby's baby. Not after everything she'd done for them.

Well, besides trying to murder the mother of Jax's first born. That was a little fucked up--even by SAMCRO's standards.

But Isla adored her. For everything she had done for her during the time she'd resided in Charming, Gemma was regarded extremely fucking highly in her book.

"Go home, baby. Get some sleep, too--you need to rest."

Isla waved her off. "I'm not tired, just feelin' a little gross."

"I'd bet." Gemma pushed her lips together, smiling as much as she could've. "You go yourself pretty again, and swing by later for dinner."

"Yes ma'am." She mock saluted, reaching for her purse.

Goodbyes between Isla, Gemma, and Juice were uttered for a few moments before the blonde made her way to the door.

Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, urging her to turn back to the duo.

"Gem?"

"Mhm?"

"Was Tig alright?" Sincerely, she asked. Feeling a little guilty about snapping earlier.

Gemma didn't say anything but her head bobbed in confirmation, providing Isla with the answer she needed.

The Irish in her shone through during instances like those. She was brash in her actions, words, and the fact she'd always speak before she thought--but the solemnity with which she would ponder, apologize after making a mistake, was just so plainly Irish.

Isla was kind. Caring. Nurturing. She was everything that SAMCRO was not--but, at the same time, everything that Chibs was. Reliable. Loyal. Committed. A true ride or fucking die.

Everybody trusted her, and nobody second-guessed confiding in her.

And, once again, that had its reparations alongside a multitude of perks.

"Holy mother of Jesus." She cursed, the unmistakable Belfast twang flickering through her brusque tone.

Jax haphazardly pulled the bed-sheet over Kohn's lifeless frame, turning to face his little friend who was, to put it lightly, fucking stunned.

"You sound super Irish when you're mad."

"I'm glad you could recognize that I'm mad at you, Jax." Her eyes never once left the outline of that dead body half on Tara's bedroom carpet, half on the tile of her en-suite.

Getting to her knees, disregarding an incredulous amount of blood decorating the walls and carpets, Isla pulled the floral cover off of Josh.

She sighed. "Why'd you do it?"

"He was stalking Tara--"

"So you just blew his fucking brains out?!" Her shriek was guttural. "Jesus Christ, Jax. And you idiots think that Tig is the one with a trigger problem."

"He does have a problem, and you know that! This was different!" He countered, pulling her to her feet. "This was fucking restitution, Isla!"

"No." Calmly, she stated. Her glare piercing. "This was fucking stupid. Possibly the most idiotic thing that you've ever done, Jackson."

His head shook as he sneered, towering over her. Isla felt intimidated. For the first time ever, she felt an unwavering sensation of overawe whilst in the presence of her best friend.

"He was a bad guy. He had to die."

"But he was fucking ATF! Hale is gonna get your ass, and there's nothing Unser will be able to help you with once he gets wind of this--"

Isla's voice cracked around a small sob. She wasn't even aware of the tears welling in her eyes, but they were there the entire time.

It was the thought of Jax making one incredible life altering fuck up--one that he wasn't going to save himself with a bribe, or the simple luck of a good connection to Charming PD--that was maiming her uncomfortably.

Jax's arms wound around her trembling waist, hugging her tightly against his palpitating chest.

The sheer terror visible in her mannerisms was what frightened him. Isla never seemed to scare very easily--or, at least, she didn't show it.

She was fearless, but she was still human. And he had only seen her crack twice. Both times because of the club, too.

"He was stalking Tara." He reinstated, circling his fingers over Isla's svelte spine. "They dated when she was in Chicago, she broke things off but he was a clingy motherfucker and he wouldn't leave her alone."

"She should've gotten a restraining order or something." She mumbled into his chest, sniffing back tears.

"That's the thing. She did. But he broke it by coming back to Charming, pretending to be setting up shop at the PD with Hale, but he followed her around town for a couple weeks instead."

"And nobody questioned why he wasn't getting anything done?"

Jax's head shook. "He was still working for Chicago--or so he said, anyway--so Hale just assumed any intel for whatever the fuck it was he'd been workin' on was going straight back to the big bosses."

She was struggling to follow on.

It was such a convoluted scenario that Isla never thought she'd become entwined with--though, with Jax and Charming being, well, Jax and Charming, she didn't know why she ruled something of the sort out.

"Are you gonna tell Gemma and Clay--"

"No. This is between us, and Tara."

Isla didn't have the energy to bicker with him again. She didn't want to bicker with him again, truthfully.

"Alright, what's the next move, then? 'Cuz this pig can't stay wrapped up in a sheet for too much longer or else he's gonna start to stink this place out."

Jax situated both hands against crimson coated shoulders, lightly pushing her backward so she could look up to meet his gaze.

"I got a plan. But I don't think you're gonna like it."

His eyes went straight to the lighter atop Tara's bedside table, right next to the pineapple scented candle, and she sighed hard.

The man was so sadistic. It wasn't even slightly discreet anymore, really.

Whereas Clay had always been ruthless, remarkably barbaric toward those who had wronged him--or anyone, really--Jax had more of a moral compass. Not much more, but a little. And that was the sort of thing that tied him straight to JT.

But Clarence Morrow had a much more potent impact on Jax's life, thus the man's foibles ended up transpiring to his stepson.

"This is seriously fucked up."

"I know." He didn't even try to argue, pushing Josh into the small grave he'd spent the last ten minutes digging at the pit of a deep, deep ditch.

Isla's body was below freezing, cold and uneasy at the prospect of potentially being caught, or assumed as an accessory to the murder of a federal agent.

"I'm sorry for roping you into this." Jax stated, almost reading her mind. "I just didn't know what else to do."

She ran a hand over his forearm, resting her head comfortably against navy-cotton covered flesh. "I know."

He didn't expect the woman to douse the dead body in gasoline, set it alight, and wait all night for the corpse to torrefy entirely--but she was there now. There was no reason she shouldn't go to the trouble of lighting the first match.

Tara should be the one doing this, Isla thought to herself as the small stick caught alight. She dropped it atop the sheet, taking a few steps backward when the thing immediately shot up into thick flames.

Jax engulfed her warmly with both arms, holding her tightly as if continuing their prior embrace. It felt safe, unusually so. But, to Isla, it felt like he was scouting for that security more than what she was.

"I can't believe you committed murder for a woman that you haven't seen for ten whole years." She laughed against his sweatshirt, eyes watering. "Is there something going on with you two again?"

"No." Huskily, he responded. "There isn't, and there won't be, either. I just swung by her place to make sure she was alright--I knew she was having trouble with that fucker--and he was there. I had to do it, Isla."

"I know."

She didn't. She did not know. She did not want to know, either. She couldn't fucking believe he'd acted out so rashly, how he was so trigger happy.

Jax was morphing into a different man and she couldn't help but pin that on the club.

"Is she alright?"

"I don't think so." His mumble was barely audible, but she caught it.

Isla squeezed his arm reassuringly, knowing that he felt bad about bringing that sort of trouble to Tara.

"She will be." She confirmed. "She's a strong girl, Jax, she'll be okay."

It didn't kill her to speak positively about Tara, she still held a place in her huge Irish heart--but it was an odd sensation to be mentioning her at all.

Ten years had passed by and Isla wasn't even certain that she was still alive. Her concern for the doctor seemed to dissipate over time because Tara didn't want anything more to do with them, so they didn't try with her.

Maybe it was a pang of jealousy that held her back. She was undeniably envious of the fact that she'd gotten out of town, worked her ass off, and experienced bigger and better things.

But, essentially, everything led back to Charming, and Tara Knowles had ended up falling into that same heap of trouble she left behind a decade ago.

Isla pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans, groaning when she saw the time.

"We've got an hour before Gemma wants us for dinner. You think this son of a bitch is gonna turn into dust within the next sixty minutes?"

"No." Jax laughed, leaning to his left and propping his head atop hers. "But he'll be unrecognizable in the next twenty."

"Perfect."

It was barbarous. Vile. Inhuman.

Isla's mother would be spinning in her grave if she knew the chaos she'd managed to find herself meshed with. Diane would kill Chibs, too.

She'd kill him for roping her baby into such malice after leaving Belfast. She'd want to throttle the Scottish son of a bitch for welcoming little Isla Áine Telford to SAMCRO, to Charming, to Jax fucking Teller.

They weren't natives to the small town, nor were they natives to California. Chibs had just moved from charter to charter. Continent to fucking continent. And taking his little angel along for the ride wasn't exactly planned until his late wife took her very last breath one stormy morning.

It was the most upsetting thing he had to do, telling his daughter that the woman she looked up to and adored with every fiber of her being wasn't coming home.

He'd been in the army, he'd seen things no man should've ever seen, but the sight of that six year old--teary-eyed and partially cognizant--was something that cut him so deeply, Jimmy O'Phelan's mark didn't seem to scratch the surface of Chib's inconsolable hurt.

"I think we're good now." A little nervous, Isla noted.

She simply couldn't wait to get out of the bitter chill, into a hot shower, and to the dinner table at the Teller-Morrow residence.

Jax surveyed the scene. He crouched down, heeding the flicker and sick crackle of flames engulfing the barely fleshed body.

"I think so, too." He confirmed, throwing her the keys to his SUV. "Get outta the cold--I'll finish up here. K?"

She nodded, clutching the chain close to her chest.

Isla wasn't sure how badly she was trembling until she sat still in the passenger seat, watching the club's VP commit the unspeakable.

Really, she wasn't shocked to find out that Jax was capable of the sort. Burning a man dead was better than burning one alive, and she was thankful that Josh had been put out of his misery before his body was cauterized into dust...Which was more than what could've been said about Kyle Hobart.

She remembered overhearing the club's plans to sear, or slice, the SAMCRO tattoo from the back of that brute once they'd gotten wind of his inability to black it out.

And she would've felt bad about that man getting viciously harmed, if he didn't fuck Opie over and subsequently land him in Chino to serve five years away from Charming and his family.

It was cruel, she knew that. To blowtorch the MC tattoo from the stretch of his back, was fucking cruel. Isla knew that Tig was adept at causing such blistering agony, but she didn't think he would actually go through with it, least of all with such delight.

Isla feared that man sometimes. Clay's right hand, the man who sought to protect her, fucking terrified her because he was so unpredictable. So fast acting.

"He's done." Jax officially confirmed, sliding into the driver's seat. "You okay?"

She was staring off into space, her eyes glazing over at the realization she had just helped dispose of another human being.

"Isla--"

"I'm good." Finally, she spoke. "I just--uh--I just wanna get cleaned up and head to dinner now."

He pinched the keys from a frail palm, sticking them into the ignition. All the while wondering what the fuck he was going to do with the shaken up woman to his right.

Twenty-three years of friendship, and Isla never once thought she'd be involved in such incredulous activity. Jax never thought she'd get hauled into it either, really.

Juice was right. She looked like she was going to throw up, all pale and sickly.

He had done that. Jax was, essentially, the reason that Isla seemed as though she wanted to crawl out of her own fucking skin. Granted, she was already feeling rather discomfited after tending to Cameron's laceration for hours on end--at odds with her father and Tig for that time, too.

But now this...This made Isla feel horrible. Dirty. Disgusting.

"You want me to tell Gemma you're not feeling it tonight?" Jax looked beside himself, noticing her head hanging low as she flared out of the window. "So you can skip seeing everybody--"

"No." Flatly, she responded. "No, I wanna make sure Tig doesn't hate me."

"Why would he hate you?"

"I yelled at him." Isla sounded downcast, sad. "He was watching, being awkward, trying to tell me what dad and I were doing wasn't going to suffice, and I just snapped."

In understanding, he hummed. He knew how irritating Alexander Trager was. Irritating, insufferable, it was all the same.

"He won't hate you for that." Comfortably, Jax rested a hand on Isla's thigh.

She barely felt the ringed fingers gently gliding along her jeans as she shook. It was a tremor, light and unnoticeable to the naked eye, that Jax felt reverberate through his entire body through his palm.

"I don't think he's managed to be pissed at you for more than fifteen minutes at a time."

"Yeah." She mumbled, shifting awkwardly. "Yeah, you're right. I'm too sweet for anybody to stay mad at me--"

"I wouldn't say you were sweet."

She smacked at his hand with a laugh, throwing her head backward as her smile started to fade.

It was bittersweet.

Bittersweet because she was realizing that Tig had pardoned her for being a bitch, but she had also just disposed of a dead body on the side of the freeway.

Bittersweet because, now, there was no clear path for her and Jackson and whatever happened was just going to happen and they had to grin and bear it. Pretend it wasn't eating them from the inside out.

Bittersweet because their families--their family--were currently sat around the oak table in Gemma's dining room, waiting for the pair to waltz in after doing the most heinous.

Bitter. Fucking. Sweet.

"Where were you guys?!" Tig pointed his beer bottle at the duo, heeding Jax's hand in Isla's back pocket.

Of course, to Trager, that was more than just a comfort thing. He didn't know what they had just done--nor would he--but she was going to let him believe whatever the fuck he wanted to as long as it wasn't the actual truth.

"It don't matter." Clay dismissed, gesturing to Jax and Isla's designated spaces at the table. "They're here now. That's all I care about."

Her smile was warm, friendly and welcoming while she sat in between her father and partner in crime. Literally.

Chibs nudged her. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Slowly, she uttered. She reached for the wine glass that Gemma had so kindly laid out for her.

The two blondes made eye contact for a few moments, Jax's crystalline hues completely lifeless. Arid. He nodded toward her, an indication that he was feeling alright.

But Isla...She wasn't. Lying through her teeth was the only feasible means of getting over this. Whatever this was.

"I'm fucking brilliant, dad."

[justsomeantifas]

Hi! Confused Irish guy here! When you speak of the '26 letter law', what does this mean? Is it that names need to match up to 26 characters (dumb question ik but the first one to come to mind) or is it that names have to match the 26 'proper letters' of the english alphabet?

It means no accent marks on a name

it means no dashes

it means no letters literally no letters that arent: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz

it means if you come in with the name José, or Goßman, or Jöl, etc. your name is illegal, and they can call your official records fakes and detain you

AND CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, [not directed at you anon] NO, most states aren’t like this, california has some of the strictest naming laws in the country, for all you fucking assholes saying it just makes sense, even texas isn’t as strict with naming as california, so put that in your pipe and choke on it.

so if you get your name in texas and it has an accent mark on it and try to move to california, you’re going to have to go through a bunch of bullshit because california has made your name illegal.

[militantinremission]

From George Santos, to Joe Biden: Muddy Waters in D.C.

2023 has barely begun, but it's already off to a controversial start. 1st there was the GOP's difficulty in electing Kevin Mccarthy to Speaker Of The House. A side issue that bubbled to the surface, was George Santos- the GOP Representative from NY's 3rd Congressional District. As that issue began to simmer, V.P. Biden's Classified Materials began to turn up outside of his Archives. Add in a looming Debt Ceiling Debate to the mix, & we have a recipe for more drama on The Horizon.

George Santos, in a nutshell, is a National Disgrace. His Election to Congress has raised a lot of questions about him, his Resume, & his Family History. Santos based his qualification for Office on a particular 'pedigree':

He touted where he attended H.S. & College; boasting about his GPA, & the sports injuries he suffered while playing on a Volleyball Scholarship.

He touted his tenure w/ Citigroup & Goldman Sachs.

He touted that he was a Property Owner w/ over a dozen Properties.

He touted his philanthropy, speaking on his Foundation & Fundraising efforts.

He touted his Grand Mother being a Holocaust Survivor.

He touted his Mother being a 9/11 survivor that later died from 9/11 related Cancer.

The Truth has been revealed that NONE of this is correct. George Santos literally wove his Life Story out of thin air. The man is a living portrayal of that Jon Lovitz character from SNL. I can hear Santos saying: 'I want to give Special thanks to my husband, Ricky Martin- Yeah, That's The Ticket!... Despite calls from both Sides of The Aisle for him to resign, Santos intends to serve his 2Yr Term. House Speaker Kevin McCarthy is standing by Santos, even defending his Right to serve. McCarthy's position isn't hard to decipher, he has a very narrow hold on The House, & every vote counts. I assume McCarthy expects loyalty from Santos, in return for his endorsement.

The notion of a character like George Santos is curious to me. Who he is, how he presents himself, & what he represents has layers. As an (Indigenous) Black American living in 'Joe Biden's America', I have become very sensitive to evolving Social Mores. Biden already told Black America that he places the Latinx Community ahead of Us, & We should get used to taking Orders from them. Then he allows 2 Million illegal immigrants to flood the Southern Border; but somehow, Barack Obama was able to keep illegal immigration down. Biden put Kamala Harris in charge of the Southern Border, did Obama give him the same assignment?

A familiar Cultural pattern is playing out again, as the Latinx Community is coalescing & creating points of Power (nepotism) in particular Trades & Occupations. Much like the Irish, Italian, & Eastern European, the Latino/ Hispanic is basing their success on the marginalization of Indigenous Black Americans. The 'Black & Brown Coalition' is breaking down in areas where Latinx no longer need solidarity to push their Agenda. The ongoing drama in the LA City Council is just the beginning.

Individuals like George Santos send a blatant message to Blackfolk- The American Gov't, & the General Public (through their Collective silence) is willing to grant liars, thieves, & Enemies of The State permission to not only immigrate here, but to run rampant; long before They will indemnify American Descendants Of Chattal Slavery. The fact that a 'Nobody' like George Santos could get away w/ the degree of fraud that he perpetrated, merits a closer look. Who is bankrolling Santos? He was supposed to be broke, but somehow put $700K of his own $$$ into his Campaign... How? His district on the Queens- Nassau County border, represents Towns & Villages that have seen a dramatic decrease in their Black American population over the last 30Yrs.

Unlike many of the White (Irish, Italian, Eastern European) Areas, Black Enclaves, from Bayside to Hicksville were open to a multicultural (i.e. Black & Brown) Community; but many of the Asian & Latinx families that purchased from Black families, were unwilling to sell to them. This changed the complexion & sociality of these Areas. People became intolerant... George Santos ran as a Conservative, which resonates w/ most of the 3rd Congressional District. He presented himself as visually appealing to The People. He was 'their kind of guy'. As dispicable as Santos appears, what does that say about the people that voted for him?

As for Joe Biden, the growing drama over his Classified Papers could have been handled better. Currently, there are roughly 30 pages that turned up @ The Penn- Biden Center & his Delaware Residence. Material was found in Biden's garage, & later in the room adjacent to the garage. So far, Biden has treated this embarrassment like a 'non- issue'; essentially saying: "There's no 'there' there"... Now reports have come in that some of the Classified Documents recovered date back to Biden's tenure as a Senator. His Chief Of Staff, Ron Klain's pending retirement is being downplayed, but I think that there is a connection. Klain has been a loyal Biden servant for 30Yrs; He knows where ALL of the bodies are buried.

Conspiracy Theories have already appeared regarding the appearance of these Classified Papers. Some say that this 'discovery' was set up give Donald Trump some wiggle room in his own Case of Mishandled Documents. A.G. Merrick Garland would be hard pressed to proceed w/ a Case against Donald Trump, if he also faced an Investigation of a sitting President. Some point out how Biden & his Staff are fully cooperating w/ the investigation; unlike Donald Trump, who had to be subpoenaed, & later raided by the FBI. I agree w/ those who remind Biden Supporters that just because something may not be illegal, doesn't mean that it isn't wrong.

Another angle that some Conspiracy Theorists are taking, is the idea that the appearance of these Classified Documents are meant to weaken Biden's political hold as the 2024 Democratic Nominee for President. The incident is supposed to either force Biden into resigning from Office, or embarrassing him enough to create mistrust amongst Voters & Members Of Congress. The focus on Documents found @ The Penn- Biden Center on Nov. 2nd, was meant to stir thoughts of contradiction, or sloppiness on the part of Joe Biden & his Staff. They had a full Week before Election Day to report the finding; why did Biden's Staff wait?

I don't think either side of the Conspiracy Theory Debate will get what they propose. Joe Biden will not be pressed very hard legally about his Classified Papers, & he will not be manipulated into resigning from Office. Meanwhile, Ukraine continues to receive billions of U.S. Tax Dollars, but NO ONE knows where the $$$ is going. The GOP are talking tough about the Debt Ceiling & fiscal accountability, but financing the Ukrainian War Effort was a bipartisan measure. From my 'Place In Space', I see Democrats & Republicans taking up their positions; looking to corrall their Share of the Voting Public into their particular narrative. Both Parties are courting Asian & Latinx Voters; but both are finding this demographic politically fickle.

The lengths that both Parties are willing to go, to avoid the inevitable discussion of Reparations for American Descendants Of Chattal Slavery is truly juvenile.

Only Children (& Cowards) would seek a distraction over a Solution.

-Just Saying