#Ireland AM

[loveisnotfinite]

Happened to be notified on Youtube. It’s the whole interview on Ireland AM, and it contains the snippet Nicola brushes Luke’s forehead.

Bonus: the three hosts are so invested in this season it’s like blushing schoolgirl dynamic.

Bonus 2: by the end they sang such a serenade to Nicola it’s gonna bring tears to your eyes.

[ingravinoveritas]

I just need to talk about this one little moment from the Ireland AM interview yesterday. It went by so quickly, but I had several folks DMing me about it, so I thought it was worth mentioning.

It was the "we looked like a Christmas card" and "Our Christmas card" that struck me so particularly here. It would've made sense if Michael had said "The set was so beautiful that it looked like a Christmas card," but he said "we" instead. As if David was a very specific, notable part of what gave the set the atmosphere it had. And with the "our Christmas card," I wasn't even sure if Michael realized what he said, at first, but if you watch the second gif, it looks like he said it without even thinking and then caught himself a few seconds later.

So could he and David be sending out Christmas cards together? Who knows. This could certainly just be me reading too much into things, but then you have the interview from today with Michael and David talking about Aziraphale and Crowley going onto a date and immediate shifting into talking in the first person ("I"/"we"), as if they are talking about themselves, and it's just the cumulative effect of them doing this over and over that really makes you wonder...

[samblakebooks]

Three Little Birds in the News

Three Little Birds is getting incredible reader feedback and this week is in its 5th week in the Irish top 10! Here's some of the coverage to date, with links to watch back, although I wouldn't recommend taking my financial advice...!

[constantlyfalling]

Right or left?

[ingravinoveritas]

“We never bicker.”

“No!”

“We’re both essentially quite lazy actors.”

“We can’t say that! No, we’re very professional.”

“We work very, very hard. Don’t listen to him.”

They are so married, I can’t even handle it...

I LOVE THEM

they both are so ridiculous

[dougielombax]

Okay.

But is this genuine anti-imperialism and demand for decolonization? Which it ought to be.

Or is it just fanatical anti-Western idiocy, willingly turning a blind eye to Russian, Chinese, Iranian and other such prior and present shitfuckery and/or colonialism on their part, under the pretense of anti-imperialism, borne out of doctrinal posession and tankie brainrot?

Often operating hand in hand with denialism and revisionist thinking. With a touch of Ba’athist shitfuckery and other pan-Arabist crap as well sometimes.

Using anti-fascist rhetoric as a pretense to justify invasions and occupations of smaller nations like Ukraine or Syria. Among other such places.

Well.

Which one is it?

What do you mean I shouldn’t worry about how and why China and Russia got so big?

Don’t walk away from me, answer the question! How and why did it happen? Go on!

No I think I WILL worry about it! Don’t change the subject!

Seriously, am I the only leftist who notices this crap?!

At the least we can call it double standards. Or we ought to.

I mean come on!

And no I’m not saying this to justify or defend very real western imperialism.

My own country was one of the first victims of that kind of shitfuckery.

[irishthings]

It's Joever: broke, America-centric

Tá sé Mickey Joe Thart: Irish cultural relevance, deep feelings of avoidable loss and failure

[angelofsmalldeaath]

first light — a.h.b.

cw: mentions of bad mental health

“there you are,” i lean against the doorframe, watching him manoeuvre in the darkness. it’s barely past four, barely even light out, and yet there he is, fumbling around the kitchen. 

“shit, did i wake you?” he whispers even though he doesn’t need to, and goes back to what he was doing. 

when i squint my eyes a little i realise he’s gathering supplies for coffee. 

“it’s four…”

he nods, his back to me. 

“in the morning…”

another nod. i push myself off the doorframe and walk up to him. 

his hair is sleep-mussed, his t-shirt more wrinkled than usual, like he's been tossing and turning. i wrap my arms around him and kiss his back. 

“why won’t you look at me?”

he shrugs, i feel the muscles of his back move against my cheek. “‘s dark, love, won’t be able to see you anyway.”

i poke him in the ribs, finally eliciting a response. “we have electricity, you know?”

he sighs, deflates more like it, and finally turns, still in my arms, except now my chin rests on his chest as opposed to his back. i look up, trying to make out his features in the twilight. 

“there,” he pauses, makes it a point to stare right into my eyes, “i’m looking at you now.”

i can make out the vague shape of his face. even as my eyes adjust, and i see the one small curl dropping on his forehead, it’s hard to see the rest of him, hard to see the precise green of his eyes or the russet of his beard. 

“can i turn on the lights, please?”

“no, dont!” he wraps his hand around my wrist, gentle but firm. “this feels better.”

i’m about to say something when the kettle comes to a boil. he turns again and i try not to let him go from my arms but he moves anyway. ultimately, i drop them, letting them hang awkwardly at my sides. 

“coffee?”

“do you not plan on going back to bed?”

“not really, no.”

like always he puts two teaspoons of coffee in the french press, pours the hot water on top. i watch him, still turned away from me, silent, thinking. not entirely there. 

“did you ever go to bed?”

“of course i did, darling,” he laughs airily, “i was right next to you all night.”

“that’s not how i mean it and you know it.” the sternness in my voice surprises us both. still, he doesn’t turn. his shoulders sag, his head bows low, and in the dim light, i see a slight shudder pass through him. 

“i couldn’t…”

“bad dreams?”

“bad dreams?!” he laughs bitterly, “what am i, five?”

worry gnaws at my insides, and i hesitate, wondering how much to push. it’s he who first breaks the silence. “just…thoughts. not bad but not…not very nice ones.”

he clears his throat and goes through all the practiced motions—presses the french press down gently, takes out two mugs, his a plain black, mine littered with hand-painted daisies from one of our date nights. somehow in the darkness he manages not to spill a single drop. instead he lingers, takes a second to himself before he turns and offers my mug to me.

“thanks,” i wrap my hand around it and savour the warmth for just the fraction of a second. “can we sit?”

“i really don’t want to move.”

“right…” i walk up to him, standing side by side until our arms touch, and sit, right there on the kitchen floor with my back against the dishwasher. i have to crane my neck a lot to finally look at him wordlessly, he sits too, moves closer to me until our thighs touch and our arms press against each other. 

he still seems so far away. 

gently i intertwine my fingers with his, tracing the pads of his fingers and the light dusting of hair on his knuckles. “should we talk or would you rather sit in silence?”

“a bit heavy to have this chat at the crack of dawn, don’t you think?”

“i don’t mind it if you don’t,” i take a sip of my coffee and cringe at the lack of sugar. right. it’s black. 

my reaction doesn’t go unnoticed though. for the first time that day, he laughs. no that’s not it, he snorts, like he’s teasing me. “i forgot to put in your million sugars.”

“it’s two!” i protest, “and a splash of milk, it’s nothing outrageous!” but the smile on his face lingers just another moment and a smidge of weight lifts off my chest. 

“things must be…abysmal,” i nudge his knee with mine, “if you forgot how i take my coffee.”

for a while he’s silent, watching as the sky lightens—from dark blue to purple to a smidge of pink and orange. it’s not fully light out yet, but i suspect it won’t be long now. 

“a little,” he admits quietly, like it’s a secret he’s only just revealing. “i’ve been trying to hide it from you. a bit shitty of me, really, i’d be upset if you hid something like this from me. if you were struggling,” he swallows, “mentally. and i didn’t know about it. wasn’t there to help you…”

i bring his hand to my mouth, kiss his palm. “it is…upsetting,” i admit, “but i’d like to know now. or–or whenever you’re ready, whenever you want to talk.”

he sighs deeply, rests his head on top of mine. “maybe when it’s not five in the morning.”

i smile when i hear the laugh in his voice, stare at our intertwined hands and how well they fit together.

“how d’you know it’s five?”

“the sun’s up,” he points towards the window with his mug, and i see it there—the sky, no longer purple with a hint of pink. within a few seconds it seems to have erupted with colours; yellow and orange and red and pink and gold. 

a small ray of sunshine even wanders into our kitchen. 

i look at him, finally visible to me in the first light of the morning. then i kiss his temple and he smiles. it’s a small, tentative thing, but it’s there and it’s real and it stays. 

“there you are,” i whisper, failing to contain a smile of my own. 

“there i am,” he whispers, finally turns to look at me. for a moment his gaze lingers on my lips and i take that as my cue to press my lips against his—mine chapped and dry, his tasting like coffee.

“i think it will be a…decent day,” he declares and sets his empty mug aside. “can we go to bed now?”

“you’d like that?”

“yeah…” he gently touches my cheek with his knuckle and i lean into his touch, closing my eyes briefly. when i open them, he’s staring at me, letting his eyes roam all over my face. “i think i’d love that.”

[richkidcityfriends]

There is something in how the pink opaque, a show that ended after five seasons, is so clearly inspired by buffy, which was supposed to end after five seasons, whose authors wrote the fifth season thinking it would be the last, but was eventually renewed. The actual series finale for buffy was nothing like the finale for pink opaque, but the parallels between the pink opaque finale and the buffy season 5 finale are easily drawn.

And buffy season 6 begins with her clawing her way out of a grave. She comes back from the dead. It is painful, and hard, but she does it. She claws her way out. She lives.

[ind1g3n0us-lev1t3]

We must start to hold people and nations to account. Nations who "stand with Palestine" yet have a history of antisemitism and Jew hate.

Spain, Portugal, and Ireland are very good examples of this.

Spain and Portugal expelled their Jews, and forced other Jews to either convert or die. These policies wouldn't be relaxed until the 1800s.

Ireland had pogroms, and the nationalist party Sinn Fein had newspapers who accused Jews many antisemitic stereotypes.

By far the biggest one however is Russia. Russia not only has ties to Hamas and the IRGC, but has a deep antisemitic history. Pogroms, the pale of settlement, the cantonist system, the black hundreds, antisemitic legislation etc.

There are several other nations who haven't owned up to their antisemitic past, and still don't support Israel's right to exist as a nation and the home of the Jewish people.

Sorry if this hurts your feelings, but it has to be said. There's a clear pattern between nations who support Israel and owned up to their past, and those who don't and haven't owned up.

[ingravinoveritas]

Michael thirsting over David in Crowley's costumes.

| GO Season 1 vs. GO Season 2.

[orangerosebush]

Recently, I did a re-read of the AF series, and I am working through some thoughts I have on the Fowls and what allowed them to maintain power -- especially in the sense of being landed -- in Ireland after arriving during the Norman conquest in the 12th century.

Colfer establishes that Hugo de Folé and Virgil Butler arrived in Ireland during the first Norman crusades in the 12th century (1169).

“The first record of this unusual arrangement [between the Fowls and Butlers] was when Virgil Butler had been contracted as servant, bodyguard, and cook to Lord Hugo de Folé for one of the first great Norman crusades.” From: Artemis Fowl. By Eoin Colfer.

At once, these origins of the Fowls would make them ambiguously part of the Old English, a term from the modern period (post-1600) used to describe the descendants of the first Anglo-Norman conquerors who largely inhabited the Pale (Dublin and surrounding areas) and surrounding towns. Hugo de Folé and Virgil Butler would have likely been Catholic.

However, the origins of Fowl Manor complicate this.

The original Fowl castle had been built by Aodhán Fowl in the fifteenth century overlooking low-lying country on all sides. A tactic borrowed from the Normans. From: The Arctic Incident. By Eoin Colfer

In the 15th (c. 1401-1500) century, Aodhán Fowl acquired land for Fowl Manor in the Pale (Dublin and its surrounding areas); the estate has remained in the Fowls' possession ever since, which is important to note.

The Fowls' historical proximity to the Pale likely was what allowed them to maintain power over the centuries.

Between the 12th and 16th centuries, the Lordship of Ireland (1177-1542) placed swaths of Ireland under the control of Anglo-Norman lords loyal to the King of England.

However, by the 14th century (1300s), English rule of Ireland beyond the Pale (Dublin and its surrounding areas) was weakening. Beyond the Pale, (Catholic) Hiberno-Norman lords' fiefdoms had a degree of independence from the English, often adopting elements of Gaelic language and culture.

This changes around the 16th century with the Protestant Reformation and the Tudor conquest of Ireland. In 1536, Henry VIII of England decided to reconquer Ireland and bring it under crown control. Charles II, Henry VII's son, made the re-established Church of England even more explicitly Protestant.

Between the 16th and 17th centuries (c.1550s-1620s), Irish land was transferred to a new wave of (Protestant) settlers from Great Britain and Scotland to strengthen the Crown's weakening control over Ireland and Anglicize (and thus "civilize") the island; the land transfer was facilitated through the creation of plantations, such as the plantation of Ulster.

The Old English, which would have included descendants of de Folé and Virgil Butler, were supplanted by the New English, the Protestant landowners introduced by the Tudors in a number of ventures at plantations.

It is important to note the historical nuance that:

There was no equivalent in Ireland to the English Test Act of 1672, and there were plenty of precedents for exemptions to the Act of Supremacy. The legal position of Irish Catholics was, in many practical respects, better than that of English Catholics; many fines and penalties fell into abeyance under Charles [II], and the Catholic hierarchy co-operated openly with the Dublin administration. From James's [James VI and I] accession, the Church's position was obviously improved; priests emerged into the public eye and were allowed salaries, though they were not as yet endowed. Protestant superiority remained, in many areas, axiomatic; Catholics continued to occupy a curiously edgy position of formal inferiority combined with tacit toleration. But the ambiguities of their situation reflected the logic of local conditions just as much as the shifts in central policy. [...] But the 'Test clause in the 1704 [Popery] Act, obliging holders of public office to take sacraments according to the usage of the Church of Ireland, gradually excluded Presbyterians from town corporations even in Ulster. Despite the regium donum and the Toleration Act, their equivocal relationship with the civil power remained, and would provide a key theme in the radicalization of the Irish political world after 1780, when the threat of Catholic disaffection apparently receded. [From: Modern Ireland, 1600–1972. By R.F. Foster]

Still, the Popery Act would have had consequences for the historical Fowls and Butlers as Old English families. Beyond the Test clause in the Popery Act, it also limited Catholics' ability to buy/lease land, as well as limited inheritance from a Catholic to be by gavelkind i.e., divided equally, and thus shrinking with each generation, the estate between all sons, rather than according to Primogeniture.

It begs the question of how Fowl Manor remained in the hands of the family, rather than becoming the estate of a member of the New English.

As anti-Catholic sentiment was largely grounded in the political context of loyalty to the Crown (as opposed to the Pope), certain members of the Old English gentry could have (and did!) find ways to join the wave of the Protestant Ascendancy.

"The Anglo-Ireland of the day in fact encompassed sizable middle and lower classes -- a heterogeneity that Foster finds "exemplified by that quintessential Ascendancy institution, Trinity College: defined by Anglicanism but containing sons of peers, of shoemakers, of distillers, of butchers, of surgeons, and of builders" (Foster 1989, 173). And not all the "Anglo-Irish" were, strictly speaking, "Anglo." Early in Bowen's Court, Bowen's historical account of her family's Cork home, we learn that "Bowen" derives from the Welsh "ab Owen" or "ap Owen" (Bowen 1942a, 33). Other Anglo-Irish men and women traced their ancestry to the Old English and to Catholics who converted to Protestantism in order to reap the accompanying social, political and material rewards. Violet Martin (better known as Martin Ross) descended from the Old English Martins of Ross, who had owned land in Galway and had converted to Protestantism in the eighteenth century (McMahon 1968, 123). As Thomas Flanagan concludes, "there were many ways of being Anglo-Irish" (Flanagan 1966, 59). So what, then, defined Anglo-Irishness? In [R.F. ] Foster's view, it was Anglicanism. Anglicanism "defined a social elite, professional as well as landed, whose descent could be Norman, Old English, Cromwellian or even (in a very few cases) ancient Gaelic. Anglicanism conferred exclusivity, in Ireland as in contemporary England; and exclusivity defined the [Protestant] Ascendancy, not ethnic origin" From: An Anarchy in the Mind And in the Heart: Narrating Anglo-Ireland. By Ellen M. Wolff

And what do we find out in the first book of Artemis Fowl?

"Beside [Angeline] was a facsimile of [Artemis'] father, constructed from the morning suit he'd worn on that glorious day in Christchurch Cathedral fourteen years ago." From: Artemis Fowl. By Eoin Colfer

Christchurch Cathedral (in Dublin) is Anglican in denomination!

I just think it is so cool that across a few sentences from Artemis Fowl and The Arctic Incident, it is possible to situate the Fowl family within a semi-realistic history of Ireland.

[gardenerian]

IAN GALLAGHER IN EVERY EPISODE | 1x08

[haridraws]

Cover reveal for the UK version of my new book!!

More info & pre-order links here

(The different publishers developed their own covers separately, but the UK version is the exact same inside, just British spellings!)

Graphic novels are not a huge market here, so for me it's a big deal to have a version coming out on home turf. Very excited to see it in print and show it to everyone.

YES I WROTE IT NORMAL FOR ME, CHANGED LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE SPELLING TO AMERICAN. AT LENGTH. SO MANY WORDS I DIDN'T KNOW WERE DIFFERENT IN THE US. THEN I CHANGED THEM ALL BACK FOR THE UK PUBLISHER. IN THE ART.

I NO LONGER KNOW HOW ANY WORDS ARE SPELT ANYWHERE. ALL WORDS ARE MEANINGLESS. LANGUAGE RETURNED TO ABSTRACTION, LOST ALL SHAPE AND FORM. DARKNESS TOOK ME AND I STRAYED OUT OF THOUGHT AND TIME AND I WANDERED FAR ON ROADS THAT I WILL NOT TELL

hope you enjoy the book!