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Whatever You Want

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You've been having a difficult year adjusting to your life in Dublin, struggling with a few things that you've kept hidden from Michael so as not to burden him further. Though when he comes home unexpectedly early from a family meeting, you realize he's been reading you better than you'd thought.

Warnings/Tags: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, soft Michael

a/n: Just a short little comfort fic to wrap up my Comfort Fic Week! Always love me a soft Mikey. Feedback is always appreciated!

Grabbing one of Michael’s shirts from the laundry basket on the bed next to you, you proceeded to fold it, your eyes staring absently out of the bedroom window beside the bed. The sky was overcast today, gray clouds hanging low despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to rain this morning. Somehow it seemed like the weather was reflecting your mood–or maybe amplifying it. 

Hands moving of their own accord, you neatly stacked the now folded shirt on top of the pile of Michael’s other shirts before reaching into the laundry basket and removing another one to fold. Your hands continued to move mechanically as you worked, folding clothing item after clothing item as you removed each one from the basket. 

Inevitably your mind began to wander.

Michael had already been gone by the time you'd awoken this morning. He had yet another family meeting to attend early today despite the fact that it was now Sunday. He'd been busy this entire past week taking care of a 'problem' with the family's supplier before spending the rest of the week cleaning up some issues on the business end of things. You’d barely seen him for days now, which wasn’t the usual between the two of you. And although he’d been excited to see you the handful of times you’d both run into each other at home this week, you had been distant. 

Admittedly you’d been struggling for this entire past year that you’d officially been living in Dublin. Struggling under the weight of your own family issues that you often kept from Michael–because he already had enough problems to deal with when it came to his family. You’d also been struggling under the pressures of things at work, forced into playing the mediator between the two owners of your company who fought with each other like actual children on a near daily basis. It had been wearing on you for months now, but you yet again never revealed any of this to Michael. He was busy enough as it was, and even though he was nothing but loving and attentive to you when he was home, you knew he had enough on his mind to worry about. So you always greeted him with a smile when you two were together, choosing to shove everything down, down, down until you couldn’t feel it for a bit.

But truthfully? You felt like you were drowning. You missed your family now that you were living abroad in Ireland so you could be with Michael; a feat accomplished with the help of his family–the one good thing they had managed to accomplish for you both when they had fast tracked your visa. But all the health complications back home had you missing your family even more. And you had quickly begun to hate your job with a passion ever since the owners had begun to bicker and fight, leaving you to solve the company's problems. And the office work you were doing wasn't even remotely your dream job, but you knew it wasn't realistic for you to quit just to pursue a dream.

The sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs met your ears, causing your hands to momentarily pause their movements, the shirt partially folded in between them. You could hear the sound of Michael downstairs, opening the closet door and putting away his jacket and shoes. Brows furrowing together, you wondered why he was home so soon.

“Where ya at, love?”

Michael’s voice rang out through the house, the sound of it drowning out the noise in your head–for now. Stacking another shirt of his onto the pile, you turned over your shoulder and called back to him.

“Upstairs, Mikey. Just doing the laundry.”

You grabbed another pair of jeans from the basket, hearing the heavy and tired footfalls of Michael as he made his way up the stairs. As you sorted the pair of pants in your hands with the others, leaning across the bed to reach the pile, you heard Michael making his way across the bedroom before you felt him come up behind you. His arms were soon wrapping around your waist, his nose brushing back and forth against the side of your neck as he let out a pleased hum. 

“Missed ya, pet,” he murmured.

Straightening back up, your hands landed on his forearms, giving them a gentle squeeze before you unwrapped them from around you. You felt the way Michael stiffened against the back of you, his face soon drawing away from your neck. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you sent him a brief, tense smile. He took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you back this morning,” you said, turning back towards the bed and reaching a hand into the basket, pulling out another piece of clothing to fold. “The meeting go alright?”

“Yeah, it was grand,” Michael answered distractedly. “Ya alright, love?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Just trying to catch up on laundry. Figured you’d be gone most of the day. Knew you were low on fresh clothes with how busy you’ve been this week. Thought I’d take care of it for you today.”

“Pet, ya know I could’ve done the laundry myself later today,” he told you.

You neatly stacked yet another one of his shirts onto the pile beside you, nodding as you reached your hand into the basket. You drew out the last piece of clothing, about to fold it, but Michael pulled the pair of pants from your hands. 

“Hey, stop,” he said softly, catching your eye. “Is somethin’ wrong? Ya haven’t been acting like yourself all week.”

You bit back the urge to point out that he hadn’t actually seen you much this past week. Instead, you sent him another tense smile.

“I’m fine, Mikey,” you said, gesturing to the pants in his hands. “Now can I finish the laundry? I’ve got other things to take care of today.”

Michael drew the pants out of your reach, his dark brows knitting together. His lips thinned along his face as concern washed over his features.

“What other things have ya got to take care of?” he asked.

You sighed in irritation, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance with how he was slowing down your list of chores and errands for the day. Michael certainly helped out with many things around the house, but usually when the Kinsellas came to him to solve a plethora of problems for them, you were left to pick up the slack. Which is exactly what had happened this week on top of everything else you’d been silently dealing with.

“The house needs to be cleaned, Mikey,” you pointed out. “And the kitchen is an absolute disaster. I haven’t even managed to finish working my way through all of the dishes from the other night when Jimmy and Viking decided to eat every last damned thing in the house. Which also means I need to pick up groceries from the market still, and I haven’t even had a chance to sit down to make the list. Not to mention, I still have another two loads of laundry to take care of, so can you please just let me finish?”

A frown pulled the corners of Michael’s lips down, his hazel eyes softening as they held yours. A second later he expelled a rough breath, his shoulders dropping at the movement. When he tossed the unfolded pair of pants onto the bed, your eyes widened in shock. Your mouth opened, ready to chastise him for being so uncharacteristically callous, but he’d so tenderly grabbed your hands and drew you towards himself that the gesture quickly left you stunned and speechless. All you could do was stare in confusion at him as he drew you into himself.

“Forget ‘bout all o' that today,” he told you. “I’ll handle it tomorrow. All of it, I promise.”

“But don’t you have things you need to do?” you asked.

Michael wrapped his arms around your shoulders, one of his hands gently guiding your head to rest against his chest. Reluctantly you allowed it, though you were tense in his embrace, your body unable to relax. You really needed to get these things done because you didn’t feel like grabbing groceries at the market after work tomorrow. 

“I’ll take the day off,” he replied. “Handle everythin’ at home. Even have dinner ready for us when ya finish work. Yeah?”

“Mikey, don’t promise me something that you can’t follow through on,” you warned him. “I know how your family is. I know they’re going to–”

“Hey, shh,” he hushed you, one of his hands soothingly running up and down your back. “I’ll tell ‘em no. Not to bother me tomorrow. Doesn’t matter what they say. Ya deserve some help ‘round here. Been takin’ care of everythin’ this past week–everythin’ this past year, really. And I wanna show ya that I appreciate it, love.”

“It’s not a big deal, I can handle it,” you told him, the lie almost automatic.

You felt him shift above you, resting his cheek against the top of your head. His hand continued to soothingly run the length of your back over and over, the calming feel of it slowly easing the tension in your muscles. 

“I can tell ya have been stressed, pet,” Michael murmured. “Can see it on your face. Somethin’s been goin’ on with ya. It has me worried.”

Nervously your tongue slipped out, wetting your lips. You couldn’t believe he’d picked up on anything being off with you. You thought you’d been hiding everything from him so well. And you certainly didn’t need him worrying about you, too.

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

“Don’t lie to me,” Michael said, voice firm but not angry. “I know ya too well, love. I know ya aren’t alright.”

Turning your head, you buried your face into Michael’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled faintly like his leather jacket and gasoline, probably from riding his motorcycle this morning to the family meeting. Just beneath the scent of both of those you could smell the bit of his soap that always seemed to linger on his skin. It was something with sandalwood–you knew that because the nights he’d be out working a job and not coming home to you, you’d purposely shower with his soap. Just to feel like he was still there in bed with you. You couldn’t fall asleep otherwise. 

“Tell ya what,” Michael said, breaking the silence that had fallen. “How ‘bout I take ya for coffee this mornin’? Your favorite shop. Then we can visit that little bookstore ya love so much. The one just on the corner? I’ll buy ya whatever ya want.”

A small smile slipped onto your lips and you reluctantly withdrew your face from where it had been buried against Michael’s chest, his own head withdrawing itself from the top of yours. Looking up at him, he was smiling warmly down at you, his eyes full of affection and love.

“Yeah?” you asked him softly.

“Buy ya the whole damn store if ya want,” he said, tone light and teasing as he grinned back at you. “And ya know I would, love. ‘S’not like I don’t have the money.”

“Okay,” you answered slowly, your attention shifting back to the laundry on the bed. “As long as you really will have time to take care of everything tomorrow though. Because I have to–”

Michael’s hand gently cupping your cheek and turning your face back towards him quickly quieted you. That warm smile was back on his face, the brightness of it reaching his eyes.

“Go get ready,” he ordered. “I’ll finish the rest of this. And the other stuff I’ll do tomorrow. Promise. Forget ‘bout it already, yeah? Just go take a few minutes for yourself.” His smile briefly faltered as he nervously added, “Then maybe afterwards ya can tell me ‘bout what’s been goin’ on? Ya keep lockin’ me out, pet, and I really wish ya would let me in. I want to help.”

“You just–just always have so much going on, Mikey,” you told him softly. “You don’t need my shit, too.”

“Hey,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his face towards yours. “It isn’t shit, ya hear me? Ya matter to me. More than ya know. Don’t brush yourself off when it comes to me, love, alright? Talk to me. I’m beggin’ ya.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you slowly nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “Later, I will.”

“Good,” he replied, gesturing his head towards the bathroom as a smile curved his lips upwards. “Now get your adorable arse ready. ‘Cause I wanna spoil my girl today. I’ll take care of the rest o’ the laundry.”

Feeling giddy at the prospect of having a day to spend where it was just you and Michael, grabbing coffee and buying books, you spun on your heel without further encouragement, hurrying your way to the bathroom to get ready.

°•°•°•°•°•°

You hummed out a curious noise, skimming over the summary on the back of the book in your hands for the second time. Behind you, you heard Michael huff out an amused, light laugh. The sound caught your attention and you looked up from the back cover, eyeing Michael’s smiling face curiously from his place beside you. He held up the small stack of books in his hands, gesturing his head towards the one you were still holding.

“Add it to the pile, love,” he urged. “Ya know ya want to. I can see it on your face with the way you’re lookin’ at it.”

Rolling your eyes you held out the book, a grin on your lips as you added it onto the stack Michael was holding. He shot you a flirtatious wink that only had you grinning wider, but when your eyes landed on the clock on the wall behind him, the grin faded. Surprise washed over you instead, a pang of guilt hitting you instantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me we’d been here for over two hours already?” you exclaimed, wide eyes landing back on Michael. “I’m so sorry, Mikey. I didn’t mean to be here so long!”

Michael only laughed, shaking his head back at you. “Pet, I told ya this mornin’ like I told ya over coffee before we came here–take as much time here as ya want. Buy whatever ya want. I’ve seen how much ya have been workin’ your arse off at that office this year. I know ya haven’t been goin’ shoppin’ or out to dinners with your friends as much lately.” Something like guilt spread across his face as he continued. “And I–I know I haven’t been ‘round as much the past few months, what with everythin’ goin’ on with the family. But I wanna change that. Startin’ today. Besides,” he said, suddenly looking a little shy, “I could honestly spend my day watchin’ the way ya wander ‘round in a bookstore. The way your face lights up when ya find a book–" he paused, that shy smile still on his mouth directed at you, "–the only other time ya look like that is when you’re lookin’ at me," he finished softly. 

“Because you make me happy,” you told him, the grin returning to your lips.

“I know,” he replied with a nod.

“And coffee also makes me happy,” you added before gesturing a hand at the shelf beside you. “So do books. Best way to relieve stress is with a good book and some coffee.”

Michael chuckled, nodding his head even more as his own smile widened. "Exactly why I suggested gettin' coffee before buyin' books, love." 

The corner of his lips twitched before his expression changed to something serious, his lips thinning as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something else. You hadn’t missed the shift in his mood as you curiously eyed him in return, wondering what was now suddenly on his mind.

"How has work been?" he asked carefully. "Ya seem stressed more than usual lately. Been worried 'bout ya."

Expelling a sigh at the topic change, you turned and made your way out of the aisle of books you both were in, searching for another one in particular as you mulled over his question. Michael followed closely behind you, still carrying the stack of your books in his arms as he walked.

"It's been difficult this year," you admitted slowly, eyes scanning the aisles as you looked at the different genre signs hanging above them. "I can't stand it lately, if I'm being honest," you finally confessed. "My bosses literally bicker in every meeting I have with them and I'm always trapped playing their mediator, always left cleaning up the company problems they don’t even deal with." Hands curling into fists at your sides, you could feel your irritation returning at the thought of work tomorrow. "They don't even talk about work most of the time anymore, either. I swear, they're going to run their business into the ground if they keep it up."

"Then quit."

You abruptly stopped in front of the aisle you'd been looking for at his blunt suggestion.  Turning swiftly on your heel, you looked back at Michael in confusion and shock. 

" Quit ?" you asked him in disbelief. 

He shrugged easily. "Yeah," he answered. "Quit. You've always hated it there and now it's upsettin' ya. So quit. 'S'not like ya need the money. Ya know I'll take care of ya."

"Mikey," you said, pulling a face, "I'm not going to just sit at home and be some–" you waved a hand through the air, "–trophy wife. Or–or girlfriend or whatever," you awkwardly added when Michael’s smile grew at your word choice. "I like feeling productive."

"Your choice, love, but I happen to think ya would make a fine trophy wife," he playfully teased, shooting you another wink. "But ya know I've got ya. So quit. Find somethin' ya like. Because I know that's not what you're passionate 'bout."

With a huff you turned, focusing back on the aisle before you. You stepped into it, eyeing the books on the shelves as you looked for one in particular. 

"Say it like it's that easy," you muttered, eyes scanning the various titles.

"It is," Michael pressed. "Give 'em your notice tomorrow. Quit. Do what you're passionate about. Because I know you've been dying to do photography instead. And you're damn good at it, love. And I know ya been dyin' to work for yourself.”

Chewing your lip, you let his suggestion settle in your mind. He was right, you did want to do photography. You'd been talking about it since you'd first met him. And you had been dying to work for yourself, especially with how your bosses had been this past year. It would be nice to do something you were actually passionate about, and you did know that Michael would take care of you while you started up the business–he'd already told you he wanted to marry you. He certainly wasn’t planning to go anywhere.

You hummed out a noise, your hand reaching out and pulling the book you'd been looking for off of the shelf. "Alright," you told him, turning around and placing the book on the stack in his hands. "I'll quit tomorrow," you told him. "You're right, photography is my passion. And if you're going to push me–"

"I absolutely insist ya do, love," he cut you off.

"Alright," you repeated, nodding your head. "I'll do it."

Michael's smile grew even wider, the warmth of it reaching his eyes as they fondly gazed back at you. You couldn’t fight the smile on your own face knowing that you’d never get over how lucky you were to have met him–or how handsome he looked when he smiled at you like that. 

Eventually Michael's eyes curiously glanced down to the book you'd so quickly placed onto the pile he was carrying. A look of confusion crossed his face, brows drawing together as he looked back up at you.

"One Hundred Years of Solitude?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said, your smile turning cheeky as you made your way out of the aisle and over towards the register. "It's for you. About time you read something that wasn't a Steinbeck, babe."

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Seven (Part 2)

Jude is on Skype when I get to Clontarf. I hear his smooth, low voice reverberate through the walls of his bedroom and I stand there for several moments trying to gauge whether or not he’s having the kind of conversation that I can just barge in on. I hear him laugh and say something that sounds casual rather than job-interview-like, so I push through the door. 

“Oh, Evie just got here,” He says to the person on call with him, “Do you want to say hi?”

Who wants to say hi to me? I gingerly place my bag onto his chair and perch on the bed with him. A wide, round face beams at me through the screen. “Well hello there,” the woman says, “gosh, what a beautiful girl!”

“Thank you,” I say self-consciously, tucking my hair behind my ears, and Jude puts his arm around me to kiss my temple hello. “This is my girlfriend, Evie, and Evie, this is my great aunt Maureen.”

“Oh, from America,” I say, which makes her laugh for some reason. 

“Well I’m happy to know he’s mentioned me!” She says, and she has a similar accent to him, or, maybe the reverse of it. An Irish woman who held fiercely to her Dublin syllables even after decades in America, even though that southwestern twang has crept in along the edges and slowed it all down so that she doesn’t sound in a hurry anymore. I bet it’s too damn hot in New Mexico to do anything at speed, including talking. 

“When will you come and visit?” She says then, and I don’t know if she’s speaking to him or me or us both, but I let Jude answer her while I sit there and feel like an alien. Nobody knows that I just bawled my eyes out at my therapist’s office and said that I said I constantly think about dying. 

“God, we’d love to. Maybe later in the year, do you think?” Jude is saying, “You know I’ve really been missing America lately.”

“‘Cause it’s been so long since you’ve come! Come for Thanksgiving, won’t you? I think it’d be perfect with all the kids around, although, you know, I can hardly call them kids when they’ve all got kids of their own. Evie, have you ever had a thanksgiving?”

“No, Maureen, I haven’t,”

“You’ll love it. Love it,” and in case I have any doubt about how much I’ll love it she and Jude proceed to have a lengthy conversation about all the food they used to cook together, pumpkin this and pumpkin that, I’ve never had pumpkin anything, and the alien feeling intensifies. 

The conversation moves onto other things then, and I get restless when Maureen starts asking Jude about his job search. He tells her what’s been happening, the interview with a prop place near Portsmouth that he didn’t get a good feeling from, his correspondence with another studio in London, and the interview lined up for Tuesday at another, and then I wait for her to say the inevitable, which she does, “Why don’t you just come to America?”

He starts telling her why it’s not an option right now while she reminds him of all the things he used to love about it before he was ripped out of his precious homeland by his evil parents and then I get off the bed and start picking items of his clothing off the floor and folding them away. I’m aware that obsessive cleaning is what my mother does when my father has done something to piss her off, and consider the value of bringing this fact to my next therapy session with Helen. Maybe she’ll have something enlightening to say about it. 

What’s so great about America anyway? I toss a rogue sock into his hamper. What do they have that we don’t have? Aside from like, semi automatic machine guns and UFOs? There’s so much stuff on this floor. I scoop up a pile of books and plop them onto his desk. Just because he’s American doesn’t mean that he has to just go back there. Why do people keep saying that? He doesn’t want to. He wants to move to London so I can’t see why people can’t just shut up about it. He lived in Berlin for four years, for God’s sake, so why is it inconceivable that he might see himself in-

“Evie, why are you cleaning my room?”

“Hm?”

Jude snaps his laptop shut, “I don’t want you to clean my room.”

“Did you hang up on Maureen?”

“No we said goodbye,” His eyebrow twitches, “She said goodbye to you too.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear her,” I grab a Nike runner and then the other once I’ve located it under a discarded sweatshirt.

“Um, you can stop cleaning if you want.”

“Okay,” I find a place for them and stash them neatly at the bottom of the open wardrobe and feel his eyes on me. 

“You just kind of walked away mid conversation,” he points out delicately. 

“Well, it was your conversation to have. I didn’t think I was going to just, like, walk in on like that. I would have waited if I’d known. Gone for a walk along the seafront or something.”

“I didn’t know how much you didn’t want to talk to Maureen, honestly.” I glance at him and he looks hurt, which is too much to bear at the moment, so I grab a fistful of pencils and shove them back into an upturned pencil case by their side. “Evie, stop. What’s the matter?”

“Well I just had my first therapy session, and you didn’t ask about it.”

“I haven’t had a chance to, c’mere, tell me about it.”

“You knew I was there and you knew when I’d be back and you talked to your great aunt anyway.”

“She called me. I wasn’t going to not pick up on her, she doesn’t call me often.”

“Okay, well…” I can’t think of anywhere else to put my anger and end up channelling it into the zip of the pencil case, which won’t close around the pencils I’ve shoved into it even though there are way too many of them to fit. Jude has the audacity to take the whole thing out of my hand. “Stop cleaning,” he says firmly. “What is wrong? Come here, please, tell me about your session.”

“You think I’m crazy,” I say, because I’ve just been acting crazy. 

“I don’t. Come here.”

I don’t budge. 

“Evie.”

“Why is everyone insisting that you move to America?”

“What? Nobody is insisting that, why are you saying that?”

“Maureen just did.”

“She means it as a joke, she doesn’t think I’m actually going to move back, it’s just that she misses me, I suppose,” He runs his fingers through the front of his hair, “I was like her kid for a while and then I moved away, and I don’t go and visit enough, she’s just… well it’s just wishful thinking.”

“My cousin’s girlfriend said it too.”

He makes a face, “Your cousin’s girlfriend doesn’t know anything about me.”

“She knows that they make movies in LA.”

“Yeah, so does everybody, no prizes to her for that one.”

“I just think that you’re going to change your mind about London and you’re going to contact a studio in LA, it seems like an obvious thing to do.” I’m wound so tightly that I can’t even imagine trying to move my body. My hand is still frozen in a claw like it’s trying to force up the zip of the pencil case that’s now sitting on the bed out of reach, and Jude’s eyebrows fly up incredulously. “You told me to contact a studio in LA.”

“Have you done it?”

“I’m a bit afraid to say that I have.”

“Oh right.”

“For feedback. It was your idea.”

“Well you never said that you contacted them, it’s like you were keeping it a secret from me.”

“I would have if you’d given me a chance to talk to you, but you just came in here and started picking fights with me.”

“I don’t want a fight.”

“Then quit picking one.”

“How many places did you contact?”

He sighs, “Come on, Evie.” “No, how many?”

“Four, I think.”

“Four?”

“Yeah, four, and they haven’t responded yet, so there’s nothing to report back.”

“Okay, well, maybe they won’t.”

He leans onto an elbow and stares down at his nails, shaking his head, and I feel threatened by this. Is he angry with me? Disappointed?

“What?” I demand shakily. 

He purses his lips. 

“Jude, what?”

“Would you be pleased if none of the LA studios ever responded to me?”

“Would I be-”

“I mean if I sent emails to those places with a long enthusiastic letter tailored to each individual one, attached my portfolio that I’ve worked myself to the bone on for the last year, and merely asked for their feedback on it, would it make you happy if they all ignored me?”

I’m flabbergasted. That’s obviously not what I meant. “Of course I wouldn’t.”

“Okay because it just feels like you’re pretty relieved by the thought that none of them might want anything to do with me, and like, for the record, it’s not like I think I’m good enough to work for them, okay? I’m not that delusional, but at this point it feels like I’ll take any help I can get, because nothing is working out. I’ve applied for dozens of jobs this summer and I’ve heard nothing from the vast majority of them. They don’t even reply to me to say I’m not suitable most of the time, that’s how shitty they all think I am, so if the interview with that London place doesn’t pan out next week and nobody from LA comes back to me with a shred of guidance on my portfolio then I really don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s looking like I’ll end up getting some shit job in a fucking Aldi just so I have something to do with my time so it’s really great to know that you’re gunning for me to fail.” 

He flips onto his back with the heels of his hands in his eye sockets and lets out a groan of despair, “I’m not used to failure. I don’t know how to handle myself.”

I want to crumple to the floor in anguish. I am dreadful. Perhaps I should leave town and change my name and save him the effort of breaking up with me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know- I should be more supportive. I don’t want you to fail. I only want the opposite.”

“Why did you come over if you were going to be like this? I was looking forward to seeing you and hearing about your session, and now…” He trails off, but he needn’t say more because I know what he means. I’ve taken what could have been a good moment and soured it because of the inherent ways that I am. This is the first crack, I think, the moment that I will look back on and think, yes, that’s when we both knew unequivocally that I’d make him unhappy. Perhaps, I think, I should get back on the bus and go back to Helen and tell her that I’ve changed my mind and I’d like to take pills after all, because being numb and sedated seems like a nice idea all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry Jude,” I whisper again, and I perch on the edge of the bed with my back to him because I can sense he’s doing that thing he does when he’s upset, where he shuts himself off to me and builds a wall around himself, and I don’t want to see that glazed, stony look on his face ever again. 

Except he isn’t doing that. His hand is on my shoulder, “Evie, c’mere.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry, can I have you?”

“Have me?”

“Yeah I just want to hold you for a while. I don’t want to be like this. I’ve had enough relationships where I fight, I don’t want it with you, please.”

This is new, I think, as he bundles me into his arms and lays down with me so that my face is nestled against his collarbone, the flutter of his breath in my hair, and there is nothing to look at so I close my eyes and breathe him in. “I’ve upset you,” I murmur.

“I’m alright, it’s just been a weird time,” he plants an almost impossibly tender kiss on the crown of my head, “and I’m edgy.” 

“I know. It’s fair enough. I really didn’t mean that I want you to fail , I want everything for you, I want you to succeed and I know you will, I think that’s why I’m scared, because the possibilities are so endless and your life could take you anywhere-”

“I don’t want anywhere I want here.”

Here feels pretty good, with our legs wound together and his heartbeat beneath my ear. The warmth and darkness he’s made for me in his arms is like a cocoon that I never want to emerge from. He squeezes me as tightly as his restraint will allow him, “Christ,” he says, “I love you so much it’s nuts.”

“I love you too.”

“It’s never like this, not with anyone else. I’ve never felt like this before. I want you to know how serious I am.”

“So intense,” I laugh into his chest and he squeezes an involuntary sound out of me and I squeak like a child’s toy. 

“I love you too much to fight with you. Let’s not do that again.”

“That’d mean I’d have to stop being insane, I think.”

“You’re not insane, don’t say that.”

“My therapist said that.”

“No she did not.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, “She didn’t.”

“What did she say?”

But I’m too cosy to go there right now. I snuggle up against him, and it’s the kind of embrace that makes it easy to forget that hardship and badness exists. “Hmm, I’ll tell you in a sec,” I promise, and bask in blissful feelings for just five more minutes. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[missbunmuffin]

Ramblings on what I think Aran’s mam is like. I should of done this on Mother’s Day but it’s too late now

Also if I throw around the name Freya that’s my version of Aran’s sister

- Her name is Rosaleen.

- She was born and raised in Londonderry and she moved to Dublin for university.

- She’s around 47 since she had Aran when she was around 23

- She’s very sweet, kind, and bubbly

- Low key had a shitty childhood and so she spoils her kids with love and affection. Especially after their dad died.

- She also loved her husband a lot when he was around and he loved her. Shes also close with his family

- She’s very supportive of her children.

- Like her son she’s a bit of a crackhead in her own way though.

- Her hobbies include gardening, cooking, baking, cleaning, and wood making. She was also the one who handled more of the houses repairs between her and deceased husband.

- She works in an office or something like that

- I’d say she’s a good mom she’s not perfect but no mom really is. Though when Aran lost to Little Mac she did laugh a bit but it was more because of how Freya told her about it rather than him actually losing. She felt really bad about it.

- So about this bit of information from the SNES game. I like to imagine she had baby names planned since secondary school. She felt like the teasing Aran was subjected to was her fault and she never stopped fighting for him until it stopped. She also is doing the same for her daughter because of the shit she puts up with everyday.

- Idk if you could tell but I do kind of ship Aran with Narcis. I think Rosaleen would love him and insists on Aran bringing him for dinner often. She even tries to convince him to make Aran do shit sometimes.

- She always tried to be as honest with her kids for the most part. She wasn’t afraid to tell them how babies or were actually made or how people touching their private parts is not okay at a young age. Especially after Freya came home crying about getting pregnant because her teacher told her she was gonna get pregnant and since she was like 6 she didn’t know how it worked(yeah Freya doesn’t want kids and she knew at a young age lmao)

- She has a good relationship with both of her kids spending time with them as much as she can. Though Freya is easier to spend time with since she’s still in the house. Shes also very proud of both her kids and what they both have done in their life with Aran’s boxing career and Freya’s art.

[storiesundercandlelight]

A Lonely Dream

Authors Note: I couldn't help think about how Jonathan would cope in his new life as a vampire if he fell for a human.

Warnings: None in particular, mentions of loneliness, Jonathan's a bit emotional in this one but...I think it's a side we don't see much of!

Pairing: Jonathan Reid x F!Reader

He watched you. Of course he did, the way you ran between patients, working as many hours as you could to help the staff at the Hospital cope with the demand, even now after the pandemic was finally showing signs of losing.

He tried not to be too obvious, tried not to let on how much he noticed you. The way you did your hair, the way your eye lit up when he laughed at something you said, or on the rare occasion he felt confident enough to try and make you laugh, which you always did.

To anyone else it would have been the first act in your ultimate love story, the shy glances, the gentleness of your voices when you spoke to one another. But Jonathan knew better. He hated how much he wanted you. Hated himself for even entertaining the idea that someone like you could love him. Such a beast, pining after the beauty.

God it killed him. The inevitable and gut wrenching heartache he would feel after forgetting himself and allowing the fantasy of what you could be to fall over him. Jonathan never imagined his new life would be harder than those first few months. It can only get better...you'll see. Was that not what he kept telling himself? And it did, he found a routine, a way forward that he could at least cope with for now. Until you came along.

Jonathan had been leaning against Edgards desk briefing him on his last shift, you almost caught the vampire by surprise when you came bursting through the door to Edgars office. "Edgar Swansea! How on this fine green earth have you allowed this hospital to turn into such a mess?! There's people waiting on the streets outside?!" Had Jonathan not asked Edgar the same question? He was sure he did.

If it was possible Jonathan was sure you would have knocked the air clean out of his lung the first time he saw you. Such a striking beauty he never expected to feel such things for again.

Yet here he was, sitting on the cot in his office trying desperately to send his thoughts anywhere but you. They were so painful sometimes. The times usually when he struggled to sleep, his mind conjuring vivid images in his head of the two of you. Walking hand in hand through the park, the sun shining off of your hair, drinking morning tea in a little café Jonathan used to love in the West End, cooking dinners together, laughing and throwing flour about the kitchen.

So many nights had Jonathan tortured himself with these thoughts, if the sight of blood dripping from his eyes didn't disgust him so much, remind him so bluntly of what he was, he would be overcome with tears thinking of the life you could have had.

He wanted to kiss you. So many times did he let his eyes drop to your lips when you were working close together, did you notice? He hoped you didn't. And yet at the same time he longed for you to feel the same way about him. Please see the man I used to be. Jonathan never used to be a jealous man, he didn't think his new life changed that either until you.

Despite everything McCullum and Swansea were still associates - Edgar having forgiven Priwen for their previous transgressions. He felt his blood boil at the sight of you smiling at him. His thick accent filling your ears with tales of Dublin. It was the only time Jonathan had seen McCullum smile, seen him as a man not a hunter. It killed him. She would be better off with him.

Jonathan wondered if you saw his heartache, he wondered if you noticed the days when it was so much harder for him to smile. He wondered if you knew how much it hurt him to decline your invitation to the lunch Edgar had planned for some of the doctors. "Perhaps another time...I fear I'll be too tired from my shift" He'd wanted to cry then, when he saw the flicker of disappointment on your face before you smiled at him, so understanding. "Of course Jonathan"

Oh his name on your lips. He thought often about how sweet it sounded. The shame he felt when he couldn't help his wandering mind from imaging you whispering his name, your lips dancing as you moved against one another, how you'd hold him close, your warmth spreading over him as you became one.

"Jonathan?" His eyes flicked up at the sound of his name. Edgars calculating gaze watching Jonathan from the other side of the desk, his hands cradling a glass of whiskey. "Where on earth did you go old boy?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You've been staring off into the fire for quite some time, didn't even answer my question" Jonathan straightened up, his head foggy as it so often was when he lost himself to his thoughts.

"I apologize Edgar, what did you ask me?"

"Never mind about that, tell me what's on your mind?" When Jonathan didn't reply straight away Edgar sighed, placing his glass, now empty, on the surface of the desk. "You know she happens to like you also"

Jonathans eyes flicked to Edgar, his brow furrowing in both defense and confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, you're above that wouldn't you say?" Edgar stood, walking around the table to lean against the desk in front of Jonathan. "Why not let yourself indulge a little hmm? It might put an end to this insufferable gloom you've been dragging around for weeks"

"I can't"

"Can't? You won't you mean, come now it's not that difficult, you're both adults-"

"And what is it you would have me do Edgar?!" Jonathan rose up from his chair, wound too tightly to stay seated. "Would you have me ask her to dinner? Yes I'm sure that would go down wonderfully when I can't eat. Perhaps take he for a walk through Whitechapel during the middle of the night when god knows what is prowling the streets? Hmm no perhaps I should just go one step further and take her down to the sewers so she can watch me feed on whatever creature I find down there?"

Edgar watched Jonathan with an annoying calm expression on his face as Jonathan continued his rant, pacing and pushing his fingers into his hair in frustration when he finally came to a stop. A sigh too large for someone with no need of air leaving his lungs.

"Finished?" Edgar kept his voice calm as he spoke, Jonathan looked up at him half annoyed still but also half defeated. "You know as well as I do not everything has to be so black and white"

"She wouldn't love me if she knew"

"You're so sure?"

"How could she?! Look at what I am! How could I even tell her?!" Jonathan felt it, that growing knot in his stomach that threated to push his emotions into a frenzy, he was usually so calm, so collected yet when it came to you he couldn't control it, how lonely a life this was for him.

"Jonathan, listen to me. Go upstairs, to the top floor, the empty office with the medical books, you know the one?" Jonathan nodded slowly. "She's in there, researching something for me, just go. Don't think. Just go to her and see what happens" Jonathans eyes had never looked so sad to Edgar, and he'd met Jonathan at his lowest point, he'd never seen the powerful Ekon so pulled apart as he was now, since that first night when Jonathan had found him. Perhaps this was the cruelty of his race, the loneliness one could face in the light of love, the defeat one could feel from not being able to live a life to the fullest.

Jonathan did as he was told, his feet carrying him up the stairs to the top floor. He tried to listen to Edgar, to not overthink, if his heart still beat it would be pounding against his chest. He stopped by the door, watching you for a moment, your eyes scanning over the pages of a book, hand paused above a scrap of paper, ink scribbled across the page from your note taking. You were so beautiful.

He lifted his hand, gently knocking on the doorframe to get your attention. His stomach rolled again when you smiled up at him, so happy it seemed to see him. "Jonathan, do you need something?"

"No" He walked into the room, coming to an awkward stop in the centre. It wasn't a large room, a few small bookcases, an even smaller desk, medical books littered each surface. "I umm...What are you working on?"

You sighed looking back at the open book before you briefly before closing it. "Edgar just wanted me to research something, it's laborious but I'm happy to help where I can" You smiled at him again before standing up, walking past Jonathan to place the book back on a shelf. He couldn't help notice your scent as you walked past, faint lavender, something softer like honey, tea leaves.

"Jonathan?" His eyes moved to you, when had you gotten so close? Only a foot between you, your eye looked over his face, a questioning look of concern he realised. In all his years he couldn't believe how nervous he was, how he longed for his usual confidence to take over.

"I umm...I wish...I..." He looked up at the ceiling, silently cursing himself and Edgar for coming here without so much as a conversation piece.

"I'm glad you came to see me"

"You are?" You nodded in reply a shy smile tugging at your lips. His eye flicked down to them again, would they taste of the honey he smelt he wondered? "Why?" His voice was barely a whisper as he concentrated on you, the warmth from your body so close to his. The way your eyes watched him, such gentle eyes.

"I haven't seen much of you over the last few days...I missed you" your own voice was beginning to betray you, the last words a nervous whisper of a confession. You looked at Jonathan, trying he noticed to gauge his reaction to what you had said. Was this not what he wanted to hear? Were you not standing so closely to him that your intentions were made clear? No other would stand so close to him if it were merely a casual interaction.

He couldn't be sure at what point it happened or who it was that moved first but suddenly your lips were pressed to his. His senses soared at the contact, he could taste the sugar you'd had in your abandoned cup of tea on the desk, the warmth of your skin pressing so gently to his. His hands gripped at your sides, pulling you closer to him, so gently, aware of his strength. Your own hand drifted against his neck, fingers brushing the short hairs at the back of his head as you leant up into him.

The next moments past by in a blur that Jonathan desperately wanted to remember, how and when had you moved? Did he push you back against the wall? Was it him who had deepened the kiss? A gentle moan from you had brought Jonathan back into this world, your hands still wound around his neck as his own held you against the wall, his body pressed against yours.

The panic Jonathan felt when your tongue brushed against his and he realized both with horror and disgust that his fangs were throbbing in his gums, already breaking through the skin to extend. He pushed away from you so quickly you had to grip the window ledge beside you to steady yourself. Your own panic engulfing you at the thought of doing something wrong. Jonathan wasn't sure what was worse, seeing the sadness and panic cross over your face or the fact that once again he'd let himself believe he was something else.

"Jonathan" The alarm in your voice was enough to make Jonathan snap out of his thoughts. "Your eyes..."

His hand flew up to his face, wet, a tear, no. Blood. The dread Jonathan felt went straight through to his bones, clawing at him as fear seeped over him. He moved so quickly you couldn't have kept up if you tried, you voice calling him name soon became too distant for him to hear as he rushed to the sanctuary of his office, bolting the door shut behind him before allowing himself to slump against the door, finally letting his grief wash over him. Why bother holding them back now, the damage has been done.

It was a week before anyone dared to knock at Jonathan's door, Edgar had come to him that night, letting himself in through the door at the back of the office to find Jonathan still slumped on the floor against the door, his face bloody, hands gripping the messy strands of his hair as his shoulder shook with each sob.

After coaxing the story out of Jonathan he had alerted the staff that Doctor Reid had taken ill and wished to be left alone for a week of recovery, that he himself would see to Jonathans patients.

Jonathan had never been so thankful to have Edgar as a friend.

The knock came again, Jonathan was almost tempted not to bother answering, the dark room too comforting in his sadness to warrant being disturbed by whoever was on the other side of the door. But the knock was insisted, sounding again a third time when he didn't move.

With a sigh he made his way to the door, what a mess he must look, shirt untucked, hair pushed back but without pomade to hold the hairs in place they fell regularly. His fingers made quick work of the lock and bolt on the door, the hinges creaking slightly as he pulled the door open. He wished he hadn't.

You were through the door and past him before even his vampire reflexes could stop you, coming to a halt in the middle of his office, eyes looking over the room, no doubt taking in the mess it had become over the last week. He hadn't even bothered to make the bed.

Jonathan closed the door before turning to you, that oh so familiar anxiety pooling in his stomach as he waited for you to speak, waited for you to say the words he was terrified to hear. Monster, Leech. But when you turned to him you weren't disgusted. There was no malice in your gaze as you looked him over.

"You know I must say I was quite upset by your abrupt departure the other night" You voice was quiet, as if you were unsure yourself what you intended to say. Jonathan didn't know what to say, luckily you didn't give him a chance. "I wish you hadn't left"

You took a step towards him, Jonathan in turn taking one back. It stopped you momentarily as if he'd scalded you, but then you moved again until you were in front of him, almost as close as you had been before. "You chose to hide" Jonathan heard a tremor in your voice his eyes watching yours as you looked up at him.

"I didn't want you to see..." He couldn't finish the sentence, what would he say? I didn't want you to see what a monster I am.

"But I already did" Your hand reached up to brush against his cheek, the hairs of his beard soft against your skin. "I already knew"

If it weren't for Jonathans heightened hearing he very well may have missed the last part, but he didn't. HIs body tensed, he forgot to pretend to breath as he looked at you in horror.

"How?"

"Edgar" Curse him. Jonathan looked away from you, how could he? How could Edgar have told you what he was....

"So you know? You know what I am?" Jonathan moved his face away from your touch, his eyes not meeting yours as he tried to move back, he wanted to curl up into a ball, hide away from you.

"Yes I know"

"Then why come here? Why continue to torment me further? As if what happened wasn't enough?"

"I don't mean to torment you Jonathan...I wanted to make sure you were alright"

"Stop" Jonathans voice was quiet, the kind of quiet that can only come from someone on the brink of falling apart. "Please stop. Hate me. Hate me it would be so much easier. Tell me I'm a monster and leave me be"

"You are not a monster Jonathan" You moved to him again your fingers pulling the side of his face gently so he would look at you. "Have your feelings for me changed? Because mine haven't"

"How can you say that? How can you stand here and say you care for me when you know what I am, that all of who you saw before, for months has been a lie?"

"Because you didn't ask when" Jonathans brows furrowed at you in confusion, a look of pain still present on his face. "You didn't ask me when Edgar told me"

Jonathan stopped trying to pull his face away from you, letting you turn his gaze to meet yours, those eyes, the ones he loved so dearly were looking at him the way he'd always hoped they would. He cleared his throat still trying to rein in his emotions as he asked. "What do you mean? When did he tell you?"

"Not long after I started working here....I've known this whole time I just... I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to tell me yourself" You moved closer again, leaning up to place a kiss against Jonathans lips, your hand stroking the back of his head. "How can the man I've fallen in love with been a lie when I've known exactly who and what he is from the start?"

It was in this moment Jonathan realised exactly what it meant to have the weight lifted from ones shoulders, to feel such a wave of relief wash over him, a wave of hope, of a dream that he longed for so badly, wished so badly would come true that for a moment he couldn't think, couldn't form words, it was the closest he'd felt to being human since that dreadful night when he became something else. "You love me?"

You smiled brightly at him. "Did you really have to ask my love?"

[mariacallous]

The young rioter surveyed the scene. A bus and a car blazed on O’Connell Bridge while masked groups marauded across the city centre looting shops, attacking police and shooting fireworks, turning the air acrid.

A police helicopter hovered and officers with shields and batons were assembling at the far end of O’Connell Street but the heart of Dublin, for now, belonged to the young man in a black hoodie who started to dance in the glow of the flames.

Comrades cheered as he punched the air and jigged to a soundtrack of breaking glass, shouts and sirens. He held his arms aloft like Rocky and paused, mesmerised by the mayhem. “Beautiful,” he said. “Fuck-ing beautiful.”

For other people in Ireland and elsewhere who saw images of Thursday’s anarchy it was the night Dublin went mad. For participants it was the night the city came to its senses – that here was an overdue venting of rage, a reckoning.

Ireland, according to this narrative, has opened the floodgates to foreigners with no controls or checks, leaving rapists and murderers to prowl the streets, and no one – not the government, not opposition parties, not the media, not the police – is taking it seriously.

So when social media rumours attributed a horrific stabbing attack on three children and a creche worker to a foreigner – Algerian, Moroccan, Romanian, versions varied – groups descended on Parnell Square, the scene of the crime, and decided to unleash chaos.

“People need to fight for this country,” said Samantha, a 27-year-old mother, as masked youths clashed with police attempting to retake Eden Quay along the River Liffey. “I’m not racist; I don’t mind people coming in if they respect Irish people. But the likes of the toerags coming into this country – they’re not vetted and are causing havoc.”

The unfolding scenes, in contrast, were legitimate havoc, a corrective to a political establishment impervious to previous protests over rising numbers of asylum seekers, said Samantha. “When we do things peacefully we get ignored.” She had left her five-year-old at home without dinner in order to join the revolt, she said. “I’m out here fighting for my country. We shouldn’t have to do this.”

Others echoed the refrain: to make Ireland safe, wreck the capital.

“It’s not right but it had to be done. The government is not listening,” said one man in his 20s, a bystander rather than a looter. “This isn’t against foreigners. We were the first emigrants. Immigrants are driving our buses, cleaning our hospitals – we need them. But they need to be vetted.”

Ireland’s demography has been transformed in recent decades as a booming economy reversed the historical flow of emigration. A fifth of the 5 million people now living in Ireland were born elsewhere. A recent increase in refugees from Ukraine and other countries fuelled a backlash amid concern over a housing shortage and straining public services. The number housed by the state jumped from 7,500 in 2021 to 73,000 in 2022.

Amid the destruction on Thursday night there was some linguistic nuance, with “non-national” usually preferred to “foreigner”, and “unvetted” or “unregulated” preferred to “illegal”, and an aversion to the label “far right”.

There was nothing subtle about the targeting of police. Bottles, bricks, fireworks and other missiles rained down on officers, many of whom lacked helmets and shields. The crowd cornered and attacked isolated officers, leaving several injured. Eleven police vehicles were damaged.

Journalists too were unwelcome and photographers had to conceal cameras. “He’s with the Guardian,” a man in his 60s, holding a tricolour, shouted. Younger, hooded men formed an intimidating cluster. The worst sin was to be with RTÉ, the national broadcaster, or the liberal Irish Times, which were accused of cheering the “replacement” of Irish people by new arrivals.

Many onlookers were appalled. “It’s heartbreaking for Dublin, for Ireland, for Europe,” said Matthew Butler, 28. A 53-year-old postman who gave his name only as John expressed fury. “Just a bunch of scumbags out to wreck Dublin city. The gardaí [police] should have free rein to beat the shit out of them.”

On Friday, Leo Varadkar, the taoiseach, said the rioters had shamed themselves and Ireland. “I want to say to a nation that is unsettled and afraid: this is not who we are – this is not who we want to be – and this is not who we will ever be.” The Garda commissioner, Drew Harris, blamed the disturbances on a “lunatic, hooligan faction driven by far-right ideology”.

The mob had diverse motives. Some belonged to fringe political groups and were veterans of protests against refugee centres. Some were opportunistic gangs that seized the chance to loot sportswear and alcohol. Others came for the spectacle and the chance to post dramatic footage on social media.

All, however, scorned the idea that Ireland is a safe, stable society. The economy is at full employment and the state is flush with tax revenue but their social media feeds depict a country overrun with “non-native” predators such as Jozef Puska, a Slovak man convicted earlier this month of murdering a teacher, Ashling Murphy, in 2022. As the night wore on, an unfounded rumour spread that one of the children in the Parnell Square attack had died.

It did not seem to matter that one of the people who stopped that attack was a Brazilian Deliveroo rider, Caio Benicio, and that Dublin gangs have assaulted numerous South American couriers in recent years.

Chilling threats of assaults against immigrants were made on a WhatsApp group titled “enough is enough”. “Everyone bally [balaclava] up, tool up,” said one man. “Let’s show the fucking media that we’re not a fucking pushover, that no more fucking foreigners are allowed into this poxy country.”

However, the mob targeted property and police rather than foreign and non-white bystanders, who watched in bewilderment.

As police gradually regained control James, a 33-year-old labourer, confronted a phalanx of shields on Burgh Quay, drawing cheers from others who hurled missiles. After being sprayed in the face, James staggered back to Butt Bridge where a Brazilian man, who had experience of being teargassed in his home country, offered recovery tips.

James thanked him but in an interview said “unregulated” arrivals were ruining Ireland. “We’re rammed to the gills with foreigners doing mad shit. You can’t do this to Irish people. I’m getting out of this country, I’m burning rubber. It’s not safe to walk around here.”

Mohammed Gaber, 27, an accountant who moved to Ireland from Sudan and is now an Irish citizen, came into the city centre to check on his sister, Ebba. He lauded his adopted home but worried about what the riot might augur. “Irish people are so welcoming. I’ve never experienced any discrimination. But this is crazy. This is the first time that I feel that there is something big.”

With roads sealed off and smoke pluming over Dublin, Ebba, 33, was blunter. “This is terrifying.” She was not sure of reaching her job as an emergency doctor at a police station.

[marnz]

some thoughts about life right now;

i've been on a really intense project since late July and let me tell you, i am tired! i'm one of the few people at my job that specialize in this type of work--we are excited to train more--but for now i am just hanging out here preparing to trade one high pressure project for another for the foreseeable future. which ultimately is fine! even though it can be stressful, I would rather be doing this type of work, which is interesting and super fulfilling and matters a lot to me, than other types of work, which do not feel fulfilling and are actually pretty boring.

it's a little confusing to find myself here because last year i went on medical leave for mental health reasons and prior to that i was doing a very different kind of work, and when i came back in january they started me off with this new kind of work (which i do prefer) with basically no training from my supervisor. which is fine, i am comfortable learning on the fly and/or teaching myself, and i have both a lot of experience doing this and a lot of experience in Complex Projects, albeit in a different practice area. then i moved onto this project in late july. so like again very little training in this specific type of work but i assure you, nothing is as stressful as my last job was. and i do love this project! even though it's stressful! i've since learned that this is just going to be my specialty! which like...i am happy with the outcome but i feel like i sort of tripped and fell into it in the least expected way possible.

while thinking about it, i think i thought i'd only make it to this kind of work, this kind of project, by working hard--and i had a specific idea of what working hard looked like, what striving looked like. but i have been working hard for the last year or so, healing, learning, growing, recovering, all of it. and that is hard work. and by taking time to tend to myself, and grow and change and learn and heal, i became ready for this kind of stressful work. and that's not the narrative we have around this. culturally we have a narrative of self sacrifice and unpaid overtime and being really fucking type A and having unhealthy work/life balance, but as soon as I stepped away and said actually, i've had enough, i will not burn my life out for you, i started down a road that led me to doing the type of work i want to do in a healthier and more prepared way. and that's fucking awesome!

for now i am just trying to make it to the end of this project in mid october. which means coping skills, baby! wish i could write but i don't have capacity for it rn, and that's fine. so my priorities are: maintenance days (cleaning/chores). reading. knitting. baking. yoga. hiking. i want to make life as easy and cozy for myself as possible right now.

i haven't knit for several months and I'm thinking of trying my first sweater--this gorgeous sweater called Mountain Mist. however i've never done colorwork before so the pattern suggests doing the same colorwork in a swatch hat (here) to practice. i am SO HYPE!!! this pattern is also admittedly deeply my aesthetic. i showed it to my partner and he laughed bc it's so typically me lol. i also checked out the first book in Tana French's Dublin Murders series on audiobook to listen too while knitting. spooky season means murder mysteries. 🥰

also my work office is being remodeled so i will be working from home for the next 6ish months, and we're preparing to overhaul my little work corner in our house so it is better/more ergonomic/has more storage/is cuter. also i am going to get a standing desk for my poor knees 😵‍💫 recently worked from 8:30 to 9:30 and my knees hurt sooooo bad 😩

it's nice to know that a year ago i wouldn't have been able to handle this project or really know how to slow down and prioritize self care and after a ton of hard work on my mental health i'm now i'm like, well, it is a bit stressful but we got this. progress 😌💖

[thetorchwoodarchive]

[img Fics That Haunt You [text is in horror movie poster font] A Rec Fest for Fics You Can't Stop In the center on a black background is an image of team torchwood. To their left are transparent logos for watpad and fanfiction.net. To their right are transparent logos for live journal and ao3]

Fics that haunt you -- a mix of fan and mod recs. Thank you for everyone who sent fics in!

the hands on the clock keep ticking by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 10235 | M)

They all knew it could happen to anyone. They’d all seen the proof. Even if it happened to a miniscule amount of the population, it was still a possibility. But they had grown complacent. They had forgotten that they too were also at the mercy of the Rift, that the Rift did not make an exception for those who knew its existence. They had forgotten until they were faced with it themselves. In which Gwen and Ianto get sent back to 1969 by the Rift.

Don't You Know For Years You've Haunted Me by virtualsilver (GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 12803 | T)

Gwen has inherited a recessive trait that has lurked in her ancestors' blood for generations: she is prescient. She can see flashes of where the timeline is heading and can feel when something - or someone - changes it. She tries to use her foreknowledge to change events for the better, but securing the outcome of her interventions proves to be a challenge.

I Sing the Body Electric by Paycheckgurl (OwenTosh, JackIanto | complete | 19069 | T)

In 2008, Team Torchwood investigates a series of robotics robberies. In an unknown time and place Ianto, Toshiko, and Owen wake up in a dark room. Their bodies seem to be strangely metallic. Which isn’t even the strangest development. The strangest development might be that they remember being dead. Or: Torchwood fix it. But they’re androids.

Separation Anxiety: The Continuing Adventures of Club Wales by pocky_slash (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 43412 | NR)

In which Jack is out of town, Andy has a case for Torchwood, Rhys makes pack lunches, and Gwen and Ianto put their detective skills to work.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows by blackkat (JackIanto | complete | 9658 | E)

Ianto closes his eyes in Thames House, lungs full of choking alien gas, and opens them in his sister's house in Cardiff.

Management of Dead Bodies in Disaster Situations: A Field Manual by heddychaa (Gen | complete | 2193 | M)

Darragh Edmonds is a so-called "disaster specialist". Called to the site of tsunamis, earth quakes, floods, terrorist attacks, he takes up the grim task of putting order to human remains, and he does it well. Cleaning up after a biological attack on Thames House should make for a comparatively easy day for Darragh: after all, the bodies of Thames House have even been so considerate as to pile themselves right at the front door for him. That is, until he's sworn to secrecy and sent, alone, to collect two bodies from the building's eerie top floor.

Four, Five, Six by miss winterhill (JackIanto | complete | 1495 | M)

The corridor outside his thesis supervisor's office was cold, and he fought down the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him. As he waited, he tried to read the notices that fluttered on the board. There was a room to rent in the lower fourth. Someone was offering tutoring in mathematics; that one half-covered a poster about drugs. DRUGS WILL RUIN YOUR LIFE, written in big frightening letters. Ugh.

And Indeed There Will Be Time by kaydeefalls (JackIanto | complete | 42433 | T)

In 1919, Harriet Derbyshire was killed while investigating the disappearance of Torchwood Four in Dublin. In 2009, UNIT pulls a dying man out of the Irish Sea with a one-word message: Torchwood. Martha joins up with Jack's team in Cardiff to track down the errant branch of the organization -- before a time-traveling race of aliens can change the course of history as we know it.

Day Tripper by Gement (JackBessie | complete | 2360 | M)

Bessie's like any other companion: far from home, more than she appears, and always up for an adventure. And Jack Harkness really will seduce anything that moves.

A Vision Too Removed To Mention by pocky_slash (Gen | complete | 13920 | T)

In which Ianto is stuck in a time loop that feels more like hell.

Three Years From Now by LibidineTertius (JackIanto | Complete | 1660 | T)

If Jack keeps his eyes shut (then he doesn't see). Also, sex. Lots of sex.

don’t make me kill you, darling by princessoftheworlds (Gen | Complete | 603 | T)

Javic Thane carries out his next Time Agency assignment.

Stars by DinoDina (JackIanto | Complete | 4020 | G)

The night after Owen first dies, there's a new star in the sky. It's not there the next night, or the next, and Jack knows he's distracted, but he can't answer when Ianto asks if he's okay. He's not.

Chosen Well by Waldo (LisaIanto, JackIanto | Complete | 1707 | T)

"All of the… modifications have been removed, but really, she should be cremated.  Just in case we're wrong."

Note to Self: You’re Going to Forget All This by heddychaa (JackIanto | Complete | 2254 | M)

Three thousand years later, Jack doesn't remember much about the leather strap he wears around his wrist;  all he knows is that the device inside it needs to be repaired as soon as possible. Every year that passes he finds himself forgetting more and more, his mind collapsing under the weight of his own prolonged existence. So he does his best to follow the clues his younger self leaves him in the hopes they'll lead him somewhere that makes sense again. For now, that means one date, expressed as coordinates: 2009-08-23.

Space Dementia by chagyu (JackIanto, JohnIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 14799 | M)

Ianto and Jack seem to be drifting apart; the arrival of one Captain John Hart will either set them back on course or completely ruin them. Ianto's not so sure which, and frankly, if Jack keeps flirting with Gwen like that, he's preparing for the latter. Alternately, how Jack's ex-lover saves his current one.

These Happy Days by violetmessages (GwenRhys, JackIanto, GwenRhysJackIanto | Series | 22267 | G-T)

A series of non-chronological stories in which Ianto miraculously survives CoE in some fashion and Torchwood Three (plus Rhys and Anwen) settle down near the seaside. This series does not need to be read in order, or even in its entirety.

Janet’s Very Big Adventure by Beleriandings (Gen | Complete | 3290 | T)

One ordinary day, the wall of Janet's cell explodes.

yours was a heavy heart to carry by someawkwardprose (JackIanto | Complete | 2064 | T)

The thing about loving Jack is this: you cannot ever let him know.

Bad Case of Loving You by virtualsilver (JackIanto, SuzieMelody | Complete | 4891 | T)

The director of Torchwood One gets a call from Jack Harkness about some shady mind control program from the 1950s and has to go digging for old Torchwood secrets, only to find some unexpected revelations of a more personal nature along the way.

Happy Birthday, Ianto Jones by aliciajazmin (JackIanto, JackJohnIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 693 | T)

Ianto Jones is a sim, and today is his birthday.

Finding Ianto by Blackbird Song (Blackbird_Song) (JackIanto | Complete | 14906 | G)

A long time ahead, in a space bar far, far away, Jack gets a message he didn't expect.

Bilis Manger, the Demon, and the River by aliciajazmin (AbaddonBillis | complete | 1181 | E)

Bilis Manger enlists the help of his crush to help him get across a river. This is a river that they can only wade through together.

Six of Swords by Jackdaw816 (JackIanto, OwenTosh | complete | 600 | G)

The Torchwood team, but with swords

World and Enough Time (Stories From the Loop) by Jackdaw816 (JohnIanto | complete | 7224 | M)

This time loop ain't big enough for the both of them

Jack Harkness' Sexy School of Shooting™ by violetmessages (JackIanto, Gwen&Jack | complete | 1214 | T)

Jack has an excellent idea but no one else seems to think it's good. Only one way to prove them wrong.

Smile Like You Mean It by egg_agemythrusters (JackIanto | complete | 622 | G)

Jack Harkness had a smile like no other.

Dead On Arrival by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 13582 | M)

Ianto Jones wakes up. The only problem is, he's certain he was dead.

Hohnq by gwendolyncooper (JackIanto, John&Ianto | complete | 1911 | G)

It’s not really a normal day to walk into the Torchwood Hub and find a goose holding a knife, but it seems that’s the way Ianto Jones’ day is going to start.

Waking God by toldthestars (JackIanto | complete | 7692 | Not Rated)

Why are Ianto's dreams coming true? What's in the box with the symbol on it? Oh, and while we're at it, what's the meaning of the life?

keep your hand at eye level of your eyes by MonsterMince (GwenJohn | complete | 8331 | E)

Five years after the events of COE, Gwen still misses her team and what she had. It's not much of a life without them, and when Rhys takes Anwen away until Gwen's willing to move on, of course John Hart turns up with an offer that's too tempting to refuse: A way to raise Ianto from the dead.

left you both of the rings by princessoftheworlds (JackIanto | complete | 21188 | T)

Ianto and Jack are the dream couple—working side-by-side at Torchwood, protecting the world from alien threats alongside the rest of their team, living in domestic wedded bliss during their off hours. But when cracks begin to appear in the surface of Ianto’s perfect world, he’s forced to confront what he knows is real.

One Last Breath by Riennynn (JackIanto | complete | 3441 | Not Rated)

Yet another homicidal alien has Jack and Ianto trapped in an airtight storage locker. Jack has a plan to make sure they get rescued alive, but Ianto isn't going to like it.

Strayverse by NancyBrown (JackIanto, IantoOther(s) | complete, series | 93, 539 | Multiple Ratings; G-E) 

Amy recreated the universe and brought back the dead, but the dead don't fit there anymore.

Conditional Iteration by Beleriandings (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys, GwenIanto | series | 78, 082 | Multiple Ratings; G-E)

When Ianto dies on the floor of Thames House, time resets for him and Gwen. They soon realise that the two of them are stuck in a time loop, giving them another chance -- or as many chances as it takes -- to save the world's children from the 456.

it means something by MonsterMince (JackIanto, Gwen&Suzie, Jack&Owen, Jack&Tosh, Jack&Gwen | complete | 11316 | T)

Physically showing his team how much he cares about them is an HR nightmare, which is why Jack never passes up an opportunity to be a fake couple with his team. 5 times each member of the team had to pretend to be a couple with Jack, and one time the team pretended to be a polycule, featuring: Having fun with Suzie in couples' therapy; making an ex jealous with Owen; romancing Ianto in Serenity Plaza; taking a ballroom dance class with Tosh; and getting dressed with Gwen in hideously boring outfits picked out by Rex.

Herding Cats by blackkat (JackIanto, Non-Torchwood Ships | Series, complete | 8061 | G)

Ianto finds himself back from the dead and, apparently, in the position to double-cross a power-crazed Norse god intent on conquering the Earth by taking out a team of superheroes. Must be a Tuesday.

I just wanted you to watch me dissolve, slowly by MonsterMince (JackJohn | complete | 15417 | E)

If John had known the true cost he'd need to pay to cure Jack's immortality, he might not have paid it. (That's a lie.)

took a louisville slugger to both headlights by Flamingbluepanda (Implied Relationships | complete | 733 | G)

Ianto has a perfectly fine morning, then this happens

Jack VS the soul stealing toys by Flamingbluepanda (JackIanto | complete | 457 | Not Rated)

Ianto is king of the furbies

The Bad Neighbor by Firesnap (Gen | complete | 30576 | T)

Rhys Williams knows there's something wrong with his neighbor. It's a shame no one seems to be listening to him.

The Author, The Scribe, The Archivist by MonsterMince (JackIanto, Gwen&Team, Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack | complete | 7530 | T)

The story of how Gwen Cooper helped Jack to never forget his team, with one scrapbook. (Or, Post-COE, Gwen finds Ianto’s scrapbook dedicated to Lisa, and sets about adding to it so she and Jack can remember him and the rest of their team. It works really, really well.)

Grief Lessons by elusive_eventuality (JackIanto | complete | 2936 | T)

"What groaning, what lament, what song of death, what dance of Hades shall I do?" ~ Euripides Or a CoE fix-it in five parts, one for every stage of grief.

A Tale of Two Universes by Paycheckgurl (JackIanto, LisaIanto, Gwen&Ianto, Ianto&Team, Ianto&Tosh, Yvonne&Ianto | complete | 2305 | T) 

In one universe Ianto Jones lives and in another he dies. Only it’s not quite that simple.

tell rock n' roll i'm alone again by paperclipbitch (OwenIanto, SuzieOwen, JackJohn, GwenRhys, ToshAdam | complete | 17055 | M)

Band!AU. In which Torchwood have just about made it though as it turns out that doesn’t fix anything, Owen would much rather punch Ianto than shag him (honestly), and absolutely everyone seems to be Jack’s ex boyfriend.

Caledfwlch by BricklingGhost (TeamGwenee) (JackIanto, GwenRhys, LisaIanto, OwenTosh, OwenKatie, Team | complete | 48456 | Not Rated) 

Jack has a lifetime ban from the afterlife for stealing, Owen's fiance is a right hag, Toshiko is playing children's games, Ianto has a vampire in the garden, and Gwen has a prophetic dog of death following her around for pets.

Everything I Know About the Earth by Sorrel (GwenOwen, GwenJack | complete | 16437 | M)

Spend too much time near the Rift, and who knows what might happen. Gwen's having strange dreams, and knowing things she couldn't possibly know. Things are about to change, and not really for the better. GwenOwen, implied GwenJack, mature.

Exhibit by Mirrankei (OwenTosh, JackIanto, | complete | 38701 | T)

Owen, Tosh, and Ianto find themselves kidnapped to the future. Stuck in space 2000 years in the future, they become part of an Earth exhibit in the station museum. But the portal that brought them is broken, and a visiting Time Lord smells a trap...

Unworn World by Amand_r, cruentum (JackJohn | complete | 10128 | Not Rated)

Jack thought that John'd been way too accommodating through this whole thing, and so he wasn't in the least surprised when the doctor told them that John was too far along in gestation for a procedure.

It Had to Be You by TheSigyn (JackIanto, JackJohn | complete | 12181 | M)

After the events of Children of Earth, Captain Jack runs to the only person who can help him; Captain John Hart. But this is not how John wanted it to be.

[3rseo]

SEO Optimised Content in your Blog attracts more clients!

In the dynamic realm of digital information, the power of well-crafted content is unparalleled. At 3R SEO & Marketing, we take pride in not just creating content, but in crafting meaningful narratives that resonate with audiences and drive SEO success. Today, we’re thrilled to showcase ten exemplary blog entries that we’ve meticulously penned on behalf of our clients as part of our commitment to their SEO growth journey.

Discover the power of SEO-optimized content with 3R SEO & Marketing! Dive into our portfolio of ten exceptional blog entries from August 2023, meticulously crafted to enhance our clients’ SEO success.

Explore diverse topics, from relationship guidance to property assessments, fire safety to home extensions. Each blog showcases our commitment to creating informative and engaging content that resonates with your audience.

1. Access Counselling

Here is the insightful blog authored for Access Counselling, a beacon of guidance in relationship nurturing. Our collaborative effort has resulted in a blog that offers invaluable insights into selecting the right pre-marriage course in Dublin. This piece delves deep into the significance of aligning courses with couples’ needs and values, underlining keywords like “pre-marriage courses Dublin” and “choose the right pre-marriage course.” As readers explore this blog, they’re invited to explore the world of healthy relationships and successful marriages through the lens of Access Counselling’s expertise.

2. New Home Surveys

Read this blog we’ve created for New Home Surveys, a dedicated authority in property assessments. This blog distinguishes between the terms “snagging checklist” and “snag list” within the context of new home inspections. In a comprehensive exploration, we shed light on the nuanced meanings and usages of these terms, emphasizing keywords like “snagging checklist,” “snag list,” and “new home inspections.” As readers delve into this blog, they gain clarity about crucial aspects of property assessment, all while appreciating the depth of knowledge that New Home Surveys brings to the table.

3. Diamond Shine Cleaners

Here we share five key tips for achieving a high standard of cleanliness in a Dublin office. These suggestions include selecting appropriate cleaning products, using them correctly on different surfaces, and implementing effective cleaning methods like dusting before vacuuming and adopting a top-to-bottom approach. The importance of maintaining a regular cleaning routine and paying attention to details, including frequently touched areas and commonly used office equipment, is also emphasized. The benefits of professional cleaning services are highlighted, particularly their role in fostering a positive work environment. The article also promotes the use of eco-friendly cleaning products and the preventative and health-boosting benefits of regular cleaning.

4. ePower

The blog post for ePower discusses the growing electric vehicle (EV) market and the need for EV chargers at service stations. It notes that these locations are ideal for chargers due to their accessibility. Fast-charging options, which can charge most EVs in under 30 minutes, are highlighted as crucial. The post concludes that installing EV chargers at service stations is key to supporting the shift towards electric mobility.

5. Flame Stop

The blog article for Flame Stop Ltd. underscores the criticality of fire safety in data centres in Ireland, extending beyond merely cybersecurity. The piece highlights three main facets of fire safety: Mitigation, Detection, and Suppression. It recommends the use of fire-resistant materials in construction and insulation, strict housekeeping measures, and frequent equipment maintenance checks. It stresses the value of early detection systems and swift suppression systems. Prevention is key, with careful management of combustible materials and strict housekeeping emphasized. Regular upkeep of electrical and mechanical equipment and thorough fire safety training for all staff is also advised. The article concludes that comprehensive fire protection provides data centres with financial security, data integrity, a good reputation, legal compliance, and peace of mind.

6. Greenoak Construction

Greenoak Construction’s blog post emphasizes the benefits of house extensions in Dublin and tips for a successful project. They highlight their commitment to quality workmanship, ensuring that extensions not only add value but also blend seamlessly with existing structures. Their process is designed to be stress-free, with dedicated project managers handling everything from initial consultation to construction. Greenoak Construction also uses energy-efficient construction solutions to promote sustainable living and reduce energy bills. They recommend clients to clarify their purpose for the extension, set a realistic budget, think long-term, and choose a reliable partner like themselves for the project. The company prides itself on client satisfaction and comprehensive solutions, aiming to transform homes into spaces that resonate with clients’ lifestyle and aspirations.

7. Kildare Tarmac & Asphalt

The blog post “Crafting Stunning Pathways: 7 Tips for Idyllic Rural House Walkways” on Kildare Tarmac & Asphalt’s website provides valuable advice on creating beautiful walkways for rural homes in Ireland. It emphasizes the importance of thoughtful design, use of quality materials like natural stone or concrete pavers, and harmony with nature. The blog suggests optimal pathway placement to enhance scenery, aesthetic night-time lighting, and attention to kerb details for an overall stunning look. Customization is encouraged to reflect personal style and resonate with the property’s theme. Kildare Tarmac & Asphalt, serving Dublin, Kildare, Meath, Westmeath, Wexford, Wicklow, and Louth, offer expert Paths & Kerb Laying services, guiding clients through the creative process. The blog concludes with testimonials praising their services and contact information for a free estimate.

8. New Style Driveways

The blog post on New Style Driveways discusses how to design an easy-to-maintain tarmacadam driveway. It emphasizes the importance of careful planning, which includes assessing personal needs and preferences, and considering the size of the driveway. New Style Driveways is a local Dublin business experienced in managing projects of various sizes, specializing in tarmac, asphalt, paving, and concrete. The company also provides quality driveways, patio installations, decking, and fencing. The article mentions that with proper care and regular maintenance, the lifespan of a tarmac driveway can be substantially extended beyond the average range. Furthermore, the company offers a no-maintenance tarmac driveway option, which is completed with a silver granite cobble border. The post concludes by encouraging potential customers to get in contact for a free consultation.

9. National Training Centre

The blog post on the National Training Centre (NTC) website outlines the cost and other details of obtaining a Pilates Instructor Certification in Dublin. It highlights the fact that becoming a certified Pilates instructor can be a rewarding career path, but also emphasizes that it requires a significant investment of both time and money. The total cost for the certification program is €2,750, which includes the course fee, examination fee, and course materials. This comprehensive course covers in-depth theoretical knowledge, practical skills, and professional competencies required to teach Pilates effectively. It also provides students with a nationally and internationally recognized qualification. The post concludes by stating that the cost of the certification is justified by the quality of the training and the potential income opportunities it presents.

10. Universal Hair Clinic

The blog post on Universal Hair Clinic’s website emphasizes the importance of consulting a trichologist for hair loss treatment in Dublin. It notes that generic advice and over-the-counter products often fail to provide satisfactory results, as they don’t account for individual factors like genetics, nutrition, and underlying health conditions. The post warns against relying solely on online recommendations, which may lack scientific validation and be influenced by commercial interests. Trichologists, as professionals specializing in hair and scalp issues, offer accurate diagnoses and personalized treatments. They provide guidance on proper hair care practices, nutritional advice for hair health, stress management techniques, and can diagnose various hair and scalp conditions. The post recommends researching and reading reviews when choosing a trichologist, considering their qualifications and experience. It concludes by asserting that hair loss should be treated with the same seriousness as any other health issue and highlights the services of Universal Hair Clinic in Dublin for expert trichologist consultations.

These blog entries stand as a testament to our commitment to creating informative, engaging, and SEO-optimized content that bolsters our clients’ digital presence. As you immerse yourself in these insightful pieces, we invite you to explore the worlds of our clients. Let these blogs serve as a reminder of our dedication to enhancing SEO-driven content creation, paving the way for our clients’ success in the digital landscape.

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[slowdancingtorock]

Ireland - Day 23

First day working in Dublin, exciting stuff! I actually managed to escape the "day 1" curse and caught my train, found my way to the office and even got through introductions without anything awkward happening.

My new colleagues are super nice, especially the two French people I will be doing most of my work with. Today we accompanied a group of new arrivals from Italy to the national gallery for some cultural input. I still don't really "get" art and especially with my cold doing a big number on my eyes, nose and brain I really couldn't get much out of the trip but it really wasn't all that bad.

Afterwards we went back to the school and the students got into their classes. Because they are all adults here, we decided that for their break we should prepare some coffee and tea. This meant washing a lot of mugs and preparing a lot of hot water, which sounds kinda boring but we had a fun chat so it all worked out.

After we cleaned up we already were done for the day and I went to the office that handles my apartment to hand them my security deposit (as if this crappy place would justify that) and made sure they knew about the damages. Turns out they know! And they don't care (: Also my agency contact still hasn't replied nor does he have any idea what I'm actually doing xDD what a shit show.

After I got back to my place I finally properly met my 3 roommates. They are all very nice people and even gave me some gifts from their home country. I feel a little bad about not being the most sociable earlier but they assured me it's no issue. So that's a nice conclusion to the day :)

My song of the day is Of the Night by Bastille. It's a sad and melancholic cover of a cheerful song and I feel like it's quite fitting. While I try to be optimistic about things and while I am aware that things will get better, I feel like crap, this cold and my living situation really mess me up. But I am sure that I will come back to this song in it's original version once I find my way back to a more positive state of mind :)

[ammg-old2]

The west coast of Ireland is famed for its wave-beaten shores and bare, stony mountains, where only a few stunted trees grow in hollows and valleys, bent by harsh storms blowing in from the North Atlantic.

The coastline, with its cold, clean winds and ever-changing skies, gives an impression of unspoiled, primal nature. In 2014, the Irish government designated a 1,550-mile tourist route along the coast, and called it “The Wild Atlantic Way.”

Yet, where generations of painters, poets and visitors have rhapsodized about the sublimity of nature and the scenic Irish countryside, ecologists see a man-made desert of grass, heather and ferns, cleared of most native species by close-grazing sheep that often pull grasses out by the roots.

As climate change threatens even more ecological disruption, a growing Irish “rewilding” movement is calling for the restoration of the native forests that once covered these lands, both as natural machines to capture atmospheric carbon, and to preserve and extend what remains of Ireland’s dwindling biodiversity.

Rewilding, the practice of bringing ravaged landscapes back to their original states, is well established in Britain, where numerous projects are underway. For Ireland, this would mean the re-creation of temperate forests of oak, birch, hazel and yew that once covered 80 percent of the land but now — after centuries of timber extraction, overgrazing and intensive farming — have been reduced to only 1 percent.

For some, rewilding began with a personal choice.

In 2009, Eoghan Daltún, a sculpture restorer, sold his house in Dublin to buy 33 acres of gnarled oaks and rugged hillside on the Beara Peninsula in County Cork, in the far southwest. Where local farmers had once raised a few cattle and sheep, he erected a fence to keep out feral goats and sika deer, two nonnative, invasive species that nibble undergrowth and saplings down to the roots, and kill older trees by gnawing away their bark.

One day in late spring, with the wind driving rain off the foaming ocean, he proudly showed off the results. Wood sorrel, dog violet and celandine were already in flower beneath the twisted branches of mature oak and birch, thickly draped in mosses, ferns and epiphytic plants. New shoots of oak, hawthorn and ash pushed up through the grass and dead ferns.

“The sheep and deer would eat those little saplings before they even started on the grass, so when the old trees eventually died, there’d be no new ones to replace them,” said Mr. Daltún, who wrote about his experiment in “An Irish Atlantic Rainforest,” a memoir. “But the native forest is returning here, all by itself. I don’t have to plant anything.”

Ireland has committed to increasing the total proportion of forested areas to 18 percent by 2050, from 11 percent currently. Yet this would still be well below the European Union average of 38 percent, and most of it would consist of commercial spruce and pine plantations that make up more than 90 percent of Ireland’s current woodlands.

Grown to be harvested within 30 to 40 years, these nonnative conifers are treated with chemicals that pollute groundwater and rivers. Ecologists say little can grow on a forest floor carpeted with dead needles and a desert for insects and native wildlife. And much of the carbon they store is released again when they are harvested.

It would be better for biodiversity and carbon sequestration to pay farmers and landowners to grow native trees and leave them unharvested, according to Padraic Fogarty, the campaign officer for the Irish Wildlife Trust. He cited the example of Costa Rica, which has reversed the Central American trend of deforestation by paying farmers to preserve and extend the rainforest.

Ray Ó Foghlú of Hometree, another rewilding organization, believes farmers could be paid not to plow or graze strips land that border remaining pockets of native woodland — often only a few trees and bushes — that cling to inaccessible hillsides or in the awkward corners of fields. Biologically rich, these microforests would, if left to themselves, quickly recolonize neighboring areas, Mr. Ó Foghlú believes. He himself recently bought nine acres of “scrubland” — home to sessile oaks (Ireland’s national tree), hazels, wood sorrel, blue bells and anemones.

“I pinch myself still that I own it,” he said. “It has a river running through it, and I can’t believe it’s mine, for the price of a second hand car these days.”

Irish rewilding enthusiasts look enviously at the highlands of Scotland, ecologically very similar to the west of Ireland, but where the concentration of ownership in the hands of a few hundred aristocrats and magnates allows rewilding at much greater scale.

Ecologically minded figures like the Danish billionaire Anders Holch Povlsen, Scotland’s largest private landowner, with 220,000 acres, can clear deer and livestock from tens of thousands of acres, allowing native growth to quickly regenerate. Eradicated native species, notably the European beaver, have also been reintroduced to Scotland to restore ecological balance.

In Ireland, where the average farm size is 83 acres, such large-scale rewilding would seem to be unfeasible. The big exception, so far, has been in the unlikely setting of County Meath, in the flat, highly fertile and intensively farmed east of the island, and in the unlikely person of Randal Plunkett, a New York-born filmmaker, vegan and death metal enthusiast.

Since Mr. Plunkett — better known, to some, as the 21st Baron of Dunsany — inherited his 1,700 acre ancestral estate in 2011, he has cleared it of livestock and left one-third to revert to unmanaged forest, complete with a wild herd of native red deer.

“Biodiversity is expanding dramatically,” said Mr. Plunkett, 30, standing in thick woodlands humming with bees and other busy insects. “At least one species has returned every year since we started. Pine martens. Red kites. Corncrakes. Peregrine falcons. Kestrels. Stoats. Woodpeckers. Otter. We think there’s salmon in the river again, for the first time in my life.”

One of his forebears, Sir Horace Plunkett, pioneered modern, industrial farming in Ireland early last century, encouraging small farmers to set up cooperatives and to mechanize their operations and use fertilizers and chemicals. Today, Randal Plunkett says, not everyone in this rich farming area is happy about his decision to abandon intensive agriculture, or to ban all hunting on the estate.

“It’s safe to say I’m not popular with the hunting crowd,” he said. “I’ve had death threats.”

Rewilding has its opponents. Ireland’s influential agribusiness lobbies are economically and culturally suspicious of suggestions that farmland should be allowed to revert to what they traditionally derided as “scrub.” People will always need food, they point out. In more marginal areas in the uplands and west, farmers argue recent regulations have reduced the numbers of sheep they can graze per acre, and that removing them altogether would harm existing biodiversity.

“If you leave an area ungrazed and unmanaged, you leave an area that’s at risk of being burned,” said Vincent Doddy, the president of the Irish Natura and Hill Farmers Association. “I think cattle and sheep are the most cost effective way of managing the land.”

Even on poor soil and small farms, where livestock production is sustainable only through government grants and second jobs, the title of farmer is still prized beyond its cash value.

“You’d have some of them who’d say, ‘Sheep are a part of my family tradition, and my identity, and it’s what I want to do,’” said Mr. Daltún, who himself keeps some cattle on his 33 acres. “But others would see the benefit of being paid for looking after the land, and letting it regenerate, and to have time to focus more on their other work or business.”

[elaine4queen]

Back on the testosterone and the migraines fade away. I’m furious that I’m being denied a treatment that works for me. All medicines work on a bell curve - yes, most people benefit from a certain dose, but there will be others who can only get an effect from a massive dose and some who need a small dose of any given substance.

Hugh puts it this way

This is a great example of a systemic antipattern called “description becomes prescription”, whereby something that describes (eg average testosterone levels in a population) becomes the benchmark to which all should subscribe. This anti pattern is everywhere, including religion (“real” Christians do X, so you can’t be one unless you do X). It’s a false syllogism.

I only wish I could be so articulate. Still, I have to bide my time for now and hope that I can get my needs met legitimately, which is all that I ask for. 

Meanwhile I’m focusing on getting things done for my trip to Dublin. The dog needs her own bag packed, and then I have to make my flat clean and welcoming for Mari who is taking over from Julie but here. This involves doing lots of laundry and cleaning as well as my own personal admin. The flow of preparations is interrupted by my MP’s office emailing me to say that the Housing Association haven’t got back to him, and did I have a complaints reference number so he could chase it up and take it to the Housing Ombudsman. 

On the gov.uk page about going to the ombudsman I read that 

The regulator cannot help to resolve individual tenant complaints but can consider whether individual complaints are evidence of systematic failings by the landlord

So I focus on what I’d like them to do better. I don’t know what current regulations are regarding what they call Decent Homes, and although I’m sure mine has been pushed into not being one by the neglect of the landlord, I decide that my focus will be on the way in which I’ve had to talk to maybe 30 plus different people on the phone, or via email, and how stressful this has been. I’ve been told point blank that Southern Housing ‘don’t do’ single point of contact, but it seems to me that under the 2010 Equalities Act disabled people have a right to be levelled up to equality of access to repairs, lets say, and that having to waste my one good usable hour a day on phoning or emailing them for four months represents discrimination. Let’s see if that flies. The daughter of the guy downstairs is talking about compensation, but although compensation would not be unwelcome I’d like to see a change in policy, so that I feel more secure in my home in terms of access to repairs. The big pay off would be if I could get the policy changed for everyone.

I’m not in a position to conduct political campaigns, but having sunk several months of mental labour into this already it would be good to have an outcome I can be proud of. 

There are too many things going on right now. I’m struggling to prioritise, but with my trip almost imminent, I’m focusing on that today. I’ve set aside time this week because next week will pass quickly, and I have an ENT appointment right in the middle of it which will trash a day at least. I’ve had this procedure before -where they pass a camera up your nose and down your throat. I actually don’t expect anything to come of it, but it’s part of the medical process. I can’t help but feel trapped. Between the administration of my bodily failures and a precarious living situation the only sense of freedom I have right now is here on the page, and this trip to see Terri.

[jessifordhandsome]

Wow! Thank you! Thank you. Thank you for responding to my email/ request to contact me using my private email once again; I know it was unusual for me to request that you email through my personal email when you do not even know me. I am glad that you did because I would have lost contact with you as my subscription has expired and I can no longer access my Match.com account. Anyway, that is by-the-way since I can still reach you via your private email. Once again, thank you.

I hope you had a long and nice weekend, mine has been a busy one as my office is relocating to a new building which is a permanent site. I have also been In and out of town this past week so it was really a long week till yesterday. I have sorted my busy schedule out and now free so let talk about love .Lol.

It seems I have been rambling instead of telling you more about me as I promised in my email to you on the site. I am a bit religious, affectionate, outgoing, active, energetic, positive, generous man with a healthy sense of humor who is rediscovering all that life has to offer. I'm a bit of a clown, and playful, I love to laugh even at myself. I am a Fun loving, humble man with the belief that a woman should be treated like a lady and that it is always ladies first. I am a Fund Manager by profession; a work I love to do the way I love to enjoy life. I am generally a happy, upbeat person who has achieved much in life professionally, financially and personally. I am fun to be with and can be very romantic. I am positive on everything that life brings me. I believe that I am where I am at this point in my life for a good reason. I am an honest and caring person who is very loyal to those I care about. I've traveled extensively in the course of doing my work. I am financially very okay. I consider myself to be a gentleman with good values. I am comfortable in suits and tie as well as a pair of jeans. I am neat and clean in my living and my appearance.

I cannot say for sure if you did view my profile before my subscription expired. If you did not, here are some information which were in my profile

I am 6ft2

Athletic and toned

Hazel eyes

I do not smoke

I am a social drinker, widowed for ten years

I have a son that lives away from home. She is

presently in France with her grandma

I am white/Caucasian

Christian catholic, had my graduate degree and speak

English and French fluently

I have dual citizenship, French and American.

I like and have a dog. I was born on 16 May 1954.

I don't want to sound over excited but I must confess that I am so happy to have come across you and I know that you would want us to take this slowly but I will try to be positive and consistent. I pray that you will not see me as moving too fast or being so direct. I know you will not understand how happy I am to get your response after going through your profile for 50 minute and I made up my wind to write you hoping that you will write back and you did. I have come to understand that I will need a serious relationship in my life.

People say that I play with everything except my work. But what they don’t know is that I can play with my work but not with my love for someone. This is why I prefer people that will appreciate my humorous attitude. I am fun to be with and believe in the saying, ‘the older the wine, the better” so I don’t believe in age being a hindrance in a relationship.

I like seeing soccer, movies and listening to music. I like going to the beach and climbing mountains thou I have only climbed once in Dublin. I am currently attached to Tincan Investment international as a Senior Consultant Fund Manager, but would want to be self-employed in near future. I am a trained educationist and learnt the Fund Management trade under Robert Kiyosaki. I worked with him for seven years speaking on investing, fund management and teaching on how to benefit from the content of his three major books, Rich Dad Poor Dad, Rich Dad's CASHFLOW Quadrant, and Rich Dad's Guide to Investing. It was while on a tour with him to Aberdeen Scotland that I was made on offer by Tincan investment International. I worked with them for 6 years before I returned to United States and now work as a Consultant Fund Manager.

I have to stop here so that I will have another thing to say in my next email. I have attached some of my pictures which I uploaded on the dating site but since my subscription has expired, I don’t know if you were able to view them. I took the pictures three months ago when my son came to visit me from France. He needed new pictures of me so we used his camera to take the pictures and he printed it on getting to France and sent these ones to me. All I can assure at this point is that you will never regret meeting me if it works out for us; my late wife never did, so you will not. I promise!!! Let’s see how it goes.

Regards

[theretirementstory]

Bonjour tout le monde. It is feeling chilly again today, currently -1c but there is a blue sky behind all the white clouds 😀. We had a cover of snow one day, the temperatures never rose and the snow lingered, but the next morning I woke up to rain and the snow had disappeared.

I did visit the cinema again to see “Les Cyclades”, I was not disappointed, even though it was in French with no English subtitles, I let the “pictures do the talking.” It certainly “hit the spot” with the beautiful sunny scenery, music from the disco era, I was young again and transported back to carefree times, perfect!

There have been appointments again…… firstly the podologue. I was busy doing my “jobs from the rota” upstairs, my phone was downstairs and I heard it “ping” a few times. I thought I would pick up the messages when I had finished. Lo and behold! It was the podologue asking if I could go earlier. I did but not the half hour earlier as she had wished.

I visited the dentist again, convinced the crown would be fitted that day…… well he has fitted something but I have to return next week. Perhaps then I will be coronated 😂😂.

A week or so ago 🤔, I received a letter from my car manufacturer. As I couldn’t fully understand it, I went to the garage. The guy said that the check would take 5 minutes and providing everything was ok that would be it. An appointment was made and I was at the garage at the allotted time, he was right, it took the mechanic more time to input the information onto the computer than it did to do the check. Oh well all sorted, I do love that garage, they look after me.

The weather has been so cold, well it seems like that to me but the podologue said it is because my blood is thinner now.

Anie rang me yesterday to give me all her news. I asked her for tea and gateau, she said 4pm. Well, as usual, she was late! It wasn’t a problem and asking her to tea actually prompted me to prepare my lunch and have the table set for her arrival. She arrived with a pot of snowdrops dug up from her garden, plus a bag of chocolates from the new chocolatier in town.

I had seen a recipe for a vegan shepherds pie, it was full of vegetables and so I decided to make it. Of course, it wouldn’t be my version if I didn’t change some items, so as I had parsnip, I added some of that to the onion, leek, carrot, mushrooms, butternut squash, potato and peas. A substitution was made for spinach (I never use that) I did have some Brussels Sprouts so that was the substitute (well they are green!) I did think it was going to be a bit too “veggie” but to be honest it tasted really lovely. I made rather a lot so will be eating it again in the next few days.

I have visited the bar a couple of times this week, I enjoy seeing Christophe, Patricia and the regulars plus I manage to catch up on the news.

Pauline has now found accommodation in Dublin so will be “taking off” for the “fair city” either next week or the week after. How exciting!

I have been preparing for the AGM this coming Tuesday. I have translated most of the documents and discovered some interesting facts, one of which is that I am supposed to make something to be sold on the stall at one of the markets in town. It looks as if I will be knitting some hats, bootees, or whatever for that. I still have one more paper to translate so that will be my job this afternoon, along with preparing for the dietician.

The duplicate form from the cardiologist arrived and after photocopying it, I “hot footed” off to the Social Security office to hand it in. Fingers crossed that that is paid up pretty pronto!

My cleaning lady cannot come next week, she has a trial at the school, as a cleaner. If she is successful it will be a permanent job. I wished her well, even though I am unsure whether the organisation will find me another cleaner.

After my “health issues” my American friend messaged to say that she was going to have a biopsy. She is awaiting the results and she is perhaps more concerned that she will not get to Nice for the remainder of the winter. Both her and her husband have found it impossible to be taken onto the books by a doctor here in town. Her husband spent sometime in the hospital in Chaumont and now this for her. Fingers crossed things are not too bad.

The other morning I opened the front door to find a zillion feathers and the remains of a bird on my doormat. I was “cussing” that it was a “damned cat”, but after speaking to Anie yesterday, she said that she had had a large bird in the garden and had found three bird remains and lots of feathers, she was sad as one was a robin. Perhaps it was a bird of prey that had got this poor little one in my doorway.

“The Daddy” and my gorgeous grandson ended up sleeping downstairs last night! Apparently it is “separation anxiety” don’t recall any of that with my two boys but hey it’s a whole new world out there!

“The Paralegal” (last time I will be calling him that) is still waiting for tradesmen to complete their work before he can start decorating. However, I have received some photos of the house now and it looks good. He has ordered his new sofa, well there is a long delivery time, and he will be arranging with someone to come and measure up for carpets and underlay. It’s all happening.

I do enjoy finding poems to add to my blog. I hope that you like this excerpt from “Sudden Light” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

“I have been here before,

But when or how I cannot tell:

I know the grass beyond the door,

The sweet keen smell,

The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.”

Now it’s time for me to cook my lunch, I was going to do a little washing and hang it outside but there is no breeze so I think it would just hang limply on the line. Then I will be translating more documents and finally getting outside for a lovely walk. Have yourselves a great day too.

Jusqu’à la semaine prochaine!

[proclean-cleaning]

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