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thlayli-ra · 1 year ago

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I was inspired by a writing prompt on @sinderellanightwolf 's blog and just HAD to write it down. Let me know what you think!

Kissing Request; 42 (Life or Death kisses)

Pairing - Finn Balor/The Shield (Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose)

AU - Police

Rating - Mature (sexual themes)

Contains - M/M, kissing, fondling, hostage situation

Word Count - 2,076 words

The armed men had rushed in around noon taking as many hostages as they could and barricading themselves into a small windowless room. The police had cordoned off the building and surrounding streets but the SWAT teams had been told to hold back for now - there was no clear way inside and they couldn't risk harming the hostages.

And that was where Finn came in. He was considered one of the best hostage crisis negotiators in the state, revered among his peers. Unshakeably cool under pressure with bags of Irish charm, he had faced countless situations like this before and always managed to de-escalate the situation without a single drop of blood spilled.

In fact, the terrorists had asked for him by name.

Having arrived at the scene and been debriefed, Finn pulled on a bulletproof vest, grabbed his headset and made his way under the barrier tape. He was greeted by three officers, all dressed in full riot gear and holding large rifles.

'Agent Balor,' the largest and broadest of the three greeted the Irishman with a firm handshake. 'Officer Reigns. This is Officer Ambrose and Officer Rollins. We'll be your cover out there.'

'Think of us as your personal shield,' Rollins added with a smirk.

'It's comforting to know I have men like you watching my back,' Finn remarked. 'Have they made any demands yet?'

'Nope,' Ambrose shook his head. 'They refuse to talk to anybody but you.'

'Then let's not waste anymore time,' Finn said and walked towards the building, flanked by the three officers. By now, it was rush hour and the area had gathered a large crowd of onlookers watching the proceedings with morbid fascination. Finn ignored their stares and the heat of the mid-summer sun as he turned on his headset.

'Hello? This is Agent Finn Balor, can you hear me?' No response. 'Hello, this is Agent Finn Balor, is there anybody there? Please respond if you can-'

'It's him! It's him!' He heard an excited voice on the other end of his line. 'Is that Agent Balor?'

'Yes, it is.'

'Say something Irish!'

'Ummm, what's the craic?'

A pause. 'Yeah it's definitely him!'

Finn took little notice of the strange behaviour. Gain enough of a reputation in a field such as his and the weirdos inevitably came crawling out of the woodwork. 'Now that we've established it's really me, let's try and work something out, shall we? Some of those people in there have families waiting for them at home. Let's try and get them back in time for supper.'

'Now listen here,' the voice turned aggressive, 'we have our demands and if they're not met, we're gonna open fire and kill every last person here, understand?'

'I understand,' Finn swiped aside any nerves; this was not the time for them.

'Oh, and we have a monitor in here, we're watching the news coverage so we can see you, Agent Balor and everybody else out there with you.'

The hint of a shiver danced up the Irishman's spine. He was glad of the large armed men around him. 'I have no intention of lying or deceiving you. Please, tell me your demands.'

The line went quiet and the sound of muffled voices rustled in the background. The terrorist was conferring with his partner-in-crime. 'Ok, Agent Balor. Our first demand is...' A bead of sweat trickled down Finn's forehead but he paid it no heed as he waited for their response. '...you must go up to that guy beside you and kiss him.'

Finn blinked. 'I... I'm sorry, can you repeat that?'

'Go kiss that guy to your right,' the voice said again, confirming Finn's suspicions. 'Not just a peck either, make it steamy.'

'You... want me to kiss Officer Rollins?' He eyed the officer in question who looked as confused as he did.

'You want us to shoot these people?'

'No, of course I don't, it's just that-?' His eyes met those of Rollins who shouldered his rifle.

'It's life or death here, Agent Balor,' he said, pulling up the visor of his helmet. 'I'll do my duty if you will.'

The Irishman's heart skipped a beat at the dark doe eyes and pretty face staring back at him. There were certainly worse situations he could find himself in 'Ok, fine. I'll do it. Are you watching?'

'Oh yeeeah, we are!'

Finn rolled his eyes as he walked up to Officer Rollins. Put on the spot, the pair awkwardly grasped one another by the shoulders before leaning in. Finn flinched momentarily as Officer Rollins' mouth found his and closed his eyes, the two of them standing rigid with their lips flattened against the others.

'Come on Agent Balor,' the voice in his ear chastised, 'this aint some high school church dance. Use a little tongue.'

Rollins was the first to comply and opened his mouth, his hot breath steaming Finn's skin, masterfully engulfing the Irishman's full lips. The grip on his shoulders tightened and Rollins turned his face, deepening the passionate kiss even more. Finn was left stunned when Rollins' tongue slipped between his lips, the soft caress enough to draw a needy groan from his throat.

'You're obviously enjoying yourself Agent Balor,' the voice teased. 'He must be a very good kisser.'

Finn couldn't deny it; Officer Rollins was a master at his craft. Sensual, sweet and attentive. He could do this for an eternity, locked in his embrace. By the time the officer released the Irishman, his pale skin had turned a deep pink.

It took him a while to find his voice. 'Is... was that enough for you?'

'That was perfection,' the voice on the other end of the line purred.

'Big guy,' another voice sounded, obviously his partner-in-crime. 'Do the big guy next.'

'No, leave him till last. Do the other one first,'

'Yeah, the guy with the really slim waist.'

'So, now you want me to kiss Officer Ambrose?' Finn confirmed, his voice still breathy from his encounter with Rollins.

'Yeah, yeah. Do it.' Ambrose was already making his way towards him, leaving Finn little time to think. 'Wait, take off his helmet, we wanna see his face.'

'Go on,' Ambrose prompted and Finn slipped the black helmet and visor from the man's head. A tangle of sandy blonde curls tumbled loose from his crown, which he flicked back with a jerk of his head and fixed the Irishman with two simmering blue eyes. Finn barely had time to process how gorgeous the officer was before his face was grabbed by two gloved hands and Ambrose shoved his lips onto his.

Compared to Rollins, Ambrose was sloppy and animalistic, all teeth and spittle as he nipped the Irishman's lips over and over. The grip on his face was strong and unyielding, rugged fingers curling into Finn's beard and gripping it tightly so that he could not pull away. Not that he wanted to! As different as Rollins' and Ambrose's styles were, they were as equally addictive. While Rollins' sensuality stole Finn's breath away, Ambrose's roughness kicked up his heart until it pounded against his rib cage, adrenaline flooding his senses.

Biting down one last time, the nip enough to draw a small bead of blood, Ambrose let go with another jerk of his head, shooting the Irishman a lopsided smirk. Smug bastard! Finn stumbled on wobbly legs, resisting the urge to wipe the dampness from his chin.

'Having fun, Agent Balor?' the voice was cackling now, mocking the once cool, composed negotiator. 'We certainly are.'

'Let me guess, you have one more demand?' Finn asked aloud, looking over his shoulder to spy the largest of the three men. 'You want me to kiss Officer Reigns next?'

'You are so clever, Agent Balor,' the voice cheered.

'And if I do this, you will let the hostages go?' Finn pressed.

'Yes, every one, and we will put down our weapons and turn ourselves in.'

'Then I'd best do it, hadn't I?'

Without being instructed, Finn lifted the helmet from Officer Reigns' head, finding to his delight another handsome face, with tanned skin and a strong jaw. His lips looked as delicious as fruit freshly plucked from the bough and Finn wasted no time in capturing them. The larger man parted his lips to let Finn in, wrapping his arms around the Irishman and grasping him firmly.

'Grab his ass!' the voice commanded and before Finn could ask who the order was directed at, Reigns' hands moved to his backside and cupped both pert cheeks in his giant palms. Finn pulled his head back and gasped when large, strong fingers began to knead the tautly muscled flesh, in return hearing something like a tiger's growl rumbling in the pit of the larger man's throat.

Reigns pounced, taking possession of the Irishman's lips once more, sucking them into his warm mouth while his tongue explored them further. Reigns clearly enjoyed being in charge and Finn happily gave his body over to the officer, succumbing to the larger man's raw domination. One hand fell away from his backside to grab a fistful of his short, dark hair, tugging until the Irishman hissed. Reigns had done this before and knew exactly what he was doing - the force on his hair perfectly weighted between pain and rapture. Finn whimpered like an excited puppy.

'Oh Agent Balor, the noises you're making,' the voice whined down his ear. 'You're making us very jealous. We left you the best for last, didn't we?'

Finn couldn't answer; his mouth now belonged to Reigns. He could barely even reciprocate but the officer didn't care. Between the hand in his hair, the hand on his ass and the tongue in his mouth, Reigns was getting enough from the Irishman to satiate his desires.

When he finally pulled away, Finn felt dizzy, as if he'd just been through an out-of-body experience and had abruptly returned to his senses. He swiped a hand through his sweaty hair, reality jarring back into focus when the butt of his palm hit his headset.

'Is that it?' he said, remembering the job at hand. 'Did I meet your demands?'

'Ohhh, that and more, Agent Balor,' the voice sang. 'Look towards the door.'

Finn turned around and was hit with a wave of relief when the double doors to the building opened and a crowd of wide-eyed hostages fled to freedom. At last, the SWAT team rushed inside while the police force attended to the survivors. The line in his ear went dead, replaced by loud static. Removing his headset, he was suddenly hit with the full force of his condition. He was breathless and lightheaded, his lips bruised and his chin dripping. Glancing around at the mass of faces watching him in an almost voyeuristic fashion, he felt as if he was naked. He absentmindedly popped up the collar of his leather jacket in a feeble attempt to hide from their gazes.

'Good job, Agent Balor,' it was Reigns who spoke, Rollins and Ambrose falling in line behind him. They didn't seem fazed by their strange day in the slightest. 'The terrorists have been arrested and not a single hostage hurt. I'd call that a success.'

'Aye, sure,' Finn hushed out through trembling lips.

'Here,' Reigns held out his hand, a card between his two fingers. 'Call any time, if you need mine or...' he glanced back over his shoulder with a sly grin, '..all of our services again.'

'Thanks,' Finn said, taking the card. 'I'll bear that in mind.'

The three men left and Finn stood alone, staring down at the card when he heard his name being called. Turning around, he saw two men in handcuffs being shoved into a police van. 'Thank you, Agent Balor! Until next time!'

'WE LOVE YOU!' the other one hollered before he was wrestled into the van.

Finn shook his head in disbelief. What a day! Now, he'd head back to his office and write up the paperwork. Then it was straight home for a shower (a cold one, preferably) and a beer (even colder). Before walking away, however, he looked down at the card Reigns had given him, rubbing his tattooed hand over his slick chin. He'd be sure to keep this little treasure safe - he had a feeling he'd be needing the boys before long.

Maybe for a personal assignment next time!

#writing prompts #my fanfictions #wrestling fanfiction #wwe #finn balor #roman reigns #seth rollins #dean ambrose #jon moxley #the shield #tw hostage situation #kissing prompts #Thlayli-WrITES #wwe fan fiction

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the-coconut-asado · 12 days ago

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CRAIC GOURMETS

As my brother-in-law Darcy used to say (when he was 22), I’ve been around a long time and I’ve seen a lot of things. But it wasn’t until this year that I had been to Ireland. Darcy has never been to Ireland, but I’ll wager that over a beer or three he will tell you he has. He once told his friends about the ‘awesome’ Jimi Hendrix gig he went to in Sydney, a miraculous 20 years after Hendrix had died. And, as if to prove life is a circle, Hendrix’ statue now stands bang in the middle of Dublin. Maybe Darcy did go to Ireland after all.

My neglect of Ireland was never intentional. It’s just that there had never been a reason to go. And when we finally did plan to go - for my friend Sue’s big birthday back in 2020 - well, you know what happened next.

For many years (specifically through my childhood and youth) Irish cuisine was underrated, something you would now have to put down to tired clichés (and that’s if you were being kind). Yet of everywhere in Northern Europe, Ireland has arguably the biggest abundance of fish, seafood, root vegetables and dairy in combination. Paint a still life and the oyster and crayfish would glisten against a creamy backdrop of colcannon, creamy risotto and a rugged hunk of treacly soda bread. And now I’m ravenous.

We decided to do the trip we should have done in 2020. Sue’s family were originally from Galway on the West Coast, so that’s where we headed, via Dublin and with a day spent circumnavigating a very wet Connemara. Ah, I can hear you saying, arms folded, that’s why you never visited Ireland before.

But, just as in San Sebastian last year, the weather wsn’t what we were there for.

In Dublin we had the first of many gourmet experiences - at an Indian restaurant called Pickle. Like everything we ate that week, Pickle elevated its specialty dishes beyond mere ‘tasty’. True, and also like everything we ate that week, our Euros didn’t stretch very far. But when the food is this good, the ‘ouch’ factor is balanced by the memory. I would definitely make a special trip to Dublin again for Pickles’ Dingle Bay crab and mango and Khadai Paneer (cottage cheese in a fenugreek sauce)

In Galway, you are spoiled for choice on where to eat. But a top choice is Ruibin, where the oysters, the salmon and the custardy based desserts meant you could gorge without feeling bloated. Plenty of energy left, then, for what followed that night. Let’s just say the ‘singalong’ we were promised in the Galway Sailing Club (part of the Arts Festival that week) didn’t happen in the way we had imagined. No folksy ballads and resounding choruses of ‘Whiskey in a jar’ here; it was more about Celine Dion stick effigies, (very) interpretative Riverdance and a plaintive cry or ‘What the f*** is happening right now?’ as a parade of Tina Turner masks cavorted past us hollering SImply the Best in various keys. What an excellent night that was.

The next morning, be-Guinnessed and bedraggled, we headed to Ard Bia at Nimmos, the only breakfast bistro I have been to that has a Michelin Star. Here we achieved a personal best of a 100 EUR bill for breakfast (for 3 of us). My rather beautiful l Vegan Breakfast Bowl with freshly made potato farls delivered a double whammy of luxuriance and healthful smug, that smug a little undermined by the chilli-moccaccino that accompanied it.

I say weather wasn’t what we were there for, but it would have been grand for the rain to have stopped, just for five minutes, during our day’s driving tour of Connemara. ‘If you ever catch me saying again how I would like to move to Ireland, please remind me of this,’ said Sue as she, once again, tried to de-mist her side of the windscreen. However, in spite of the driving rain and keening wind, we alighted on one of Ireland’s most picturesque spots for lunch: The Misunderstood Heron at Leenaun. This is a permanent food truck that serves just a few options including steaming mussels in a chorizo broth and peat-hut smoked salmon on a pillowy sourdough. We held our umbrellas over the food and clumsily wolffed both of these down while gazing at the Loch through the mist. Make sure you detour here when you visit. Whatever the weather.

The rain continued into the evening, which made our evening stop at O’Gradys by the Pier, right next to the crashing waves and craggy beach, all the more Lorna Doone-y. O’Grady’s has portholes for windows so you can see the dramatic scenery through a romance novel frame, while at the same time feeling cosy and cossetted from a menu that included Roast Cod with bacon, prawn and pea risotto and a full-bodied Irish Coffee to round the evening off.

We headed back to Dublin for our final evening, and dived straight into pub fayre and live music at The Temple Bar and O’Shea’s Merchant. Guinness stew with herb dumplings? Don’t mind if I did. And yes, the Guinness did taste better here.

I have recreated two of my favourite Irish dishes here, and an eternal favourite dessert which would not look out of place on Ruibin’s menu or Ard Bia’s dessert cabinet.

No other Craic needed.

Pan-fried Cod Cheeks with Bacon and Prawn Risotto (serves 2)

This dish is buttery, creamy and packed with mellow flavours. I don’t think this needs peas as well so have omitted but you can add if you wish. Instead this is liberally laced with fresh chopped parsely. Make this a staple during the winter months. Serves 4.

Ingredients:

4 small cod loin fillets

2 tbsp butter

For the risotto:

1 tbsp. Olive oil

6 rashers streaky bacon

11/4 cups arborio rice

1 small onion (I used a red onion for the colour but use whatever you have), chopped

¼ cup dry white wine

3 cups chicken stock

2 cups water

125g raw peeled prawns

Generous handful of parsley, chopped

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

How to make:

Heat the oil in a frying pan and fry off the bacon until brown but not overdone. Remove, cut into small pieces and put in a small bowl. Heat the stock and water on a low heat.

Heat 2 tbsp. Butter in a larg-ish saucepan or saute pan. Then add the onion and a generous pinch of salt and fry until the onions are soft. Add the rice and stir to coat for a minute. Then add the white wine and cook until the wine has almost evaporated, then add ½ a cup of the stock mixture and stir on a low/ medium heat until reduced.

Keep adding ½ a cup of stock to the risotto and keep stirring as the liquid gets absorbed into the rice but still creamy. By the time you have incorporated your last ½ cup of stock, the risotto should be ready (the rice should be smooth but still have a touch of bite). Yurn off the heat and cover while you cook the prawns and cod.

Pat the cod dry and season. Ditto with the prawns. Add the second 2 tblp of butter to the frying pan and fry the prawns u ntil just pink on both sides - just a few minutes (do not overcook or the prawns become rubbery). Reserve the prawns withe the bacon. Add the cod loin fillets to the pan and saute for about 2-3 minutes on each side. While the cod is cooking stir the prawns, bacon and chopped parsley into the risotto.

Spoon the risotto into four bowls and top each mound of rice with a cod loin. Drizzle some of the pan juices over the top, sprinkle with a touch more parsley and serve.

Mussels in a Chorizo-Beer Broth

When I had these at the Misunderstood Heron, I could have ordered several bowls. It comes together quickly, thanks to the miracle of molluscs which impart so much ocean-fresh flavour in a matter of minutes of cooking. A dish that just makes you smile. Serves 2

Ingredients:

1kg Mussels, de-bearded and rinsed

250g uncooked chorizo, casings removed

1 tbsp. Olive oil

1 onion, thinly sliced

2 garlic cloves

2 tsp. ground cumin

1 stp. Salt

1 12 oz bottle beer or lager

2 tbsp. Unsalted butter

Generous bunch choppced coriander

Crusty sourdough for serving

How to make:

Heat oil in large pan or wok (one with a lid). Cook chorizo, onion, chopped garlic, cumin and salt, stirring to break up the chorizo, until the onions are soft and the chorizo cooked through (8- 10 mins).

Add beer and butter, increase the heat and bring to the boil. Cook for a minute or so to reduce slightly.

Add mussels, cover and cook until mussels are oprn (6-8 minutes). Discard any that do not open. Spoon the mussels into bowls, ladle the broth around them, then top with cilantro (and a shake of tabasco sauce if you fancy it).

Serve with warm crusty bread.

Apple and Custard Pie

This is my go-to apple pie-ish dessert, thanks to a shorter than short pastry I learnt from John Tovey in a 1980’s edition of Sainsbury’s Magazine. This pastry has the texture of a viennese whirl and crumbles in your mouth. The recipe is on a ripped out page of the magazine, now yellow and curly at the edges. But still unbeatable. Serves 8-10.

Ingredients

For the pastry:

350g self raising flour

110g cornflower

350g soft butter

Zest of 1 lemon

110g golden caster sugar

2 egg yolks

For the filling

8 cox or granny smith apples

200g creme fraiche or sour cream

110 soft brown sugar

1 tbpn flour

2 large eggs

How to make

Put the flour and cornflour and butter (in walnut-sized chunks) into a food processor and pulse until just the texture of rubble (you should never overwork pastry and particularly not this one). Add the sugar and lemon juice and stir to incorporate (a couple more pulses should do it). Whisk the egg yorks then dribble them evenly over the toip of the mix and pulse 2 or 3 times until the mixture clumps into bigger ‘rocks’. Tip the mix onto a floured surface and gently bring together until it is a ball of pastry. Cut the pastry into a ⅔-⅓ split, roll each into a ball and flatten slightly. Wrap in foil and chil for at least 4 hours (or overnight).

Bring the pastry fully back to room temperature. Roll out on a sheet of baking parchment until larger than the circumference of a 22cm fluted pan. Fit neatly pushing into the edges (it could be messy but this is a great ‘patching’ pastry). Pop into the fridge and chill for 30 mins.

Heat the oven to 170C or 160C fan. Line the pie crust with foil and fill with baking beans. Bake in the oven for 30 mins then remove the foil and beans and put to one side while you make the filling. Turn the oven up to 175C or 165C Fan.

To make the filling, peel core and thinly slice the apples (toss in a bowl with jiue of ½ a lemon to keep from browning). In a jug, mix the custard ingredients intil smooth. Working quickly, layer apples and custard until you have finished both.

Roll out the pastry lid and popover the apples, pressing at the edges and using any spare pastry to patch up any cracks. Bake for 50-mins to an hour until the pastry is golden brown.

Remove from oven and dust generously with caster sugar. Let the pie cool down, then remove from the ring, transfer to a platter and serve.

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punkscowardschampions · 2 months ago

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Ruster

Rio: [Okay, so this is giving just before Xmas like the holiday has begun but y’all aren’t here for the big day yet, they’ve just turned 14]

Rio: Are you all coming to Dublin this year like normal?

Buster: Why wouldn’t we be?

Rio: If everyone had different plans then maybe it’d be cool for us to but I don’t want to miss out

Buster: Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to announce my parents having made different plans but they’d be required to do the honours themselves first

Rio: How awful for you to have such stable parents, I do feel terrible

Buster: Hilarious as your attempts at wit always are, it sounds as though you’d be better served saving them for your unstable parents and own awful Christmas, to cheer things up where possible

Rio: Calm down, no one is trying to impress you, boy

Rio: It isn’t my parents, or instability, my mama is as settled as she’s ever been, somehow

Buster: A miracle isn’t on my Christmas list, especially not from your side of the family, you can be the one to relax

Buster: I’ll feign the usual gratitude for [whatever he usually gets from Alison, or the vibe of] when I unwrap it the morning of

Rio: Sure, that’d require some imagination and what boutique is selling it, eh?

Rio: It’ll be as appreciated as usual, no doubt

Buster: [some shops we’re shading for thinking they’re so imaginative when they are nothing of the sort]

Rio: Wow, yeah

Rio: not hard to believe your world lives and dies on a few streets

Buster: Nor is it you’ve seen and done it all, babe, you’d have everyone believe that

Rio: Not quite all

Rio: Have to save some stuff for my early twenties or I’m way ahead of schedule

Buster: Not to mention the therapist’s chair, once your mummy’s love life is unstable again

Rio: Now, only people who call their mammy mummy can afford and be bothered to find therapists, much more your side of the family’s craic that

Rio: and it isn’t going to be unstable again, that’s the point

Buster: You get what you pay for, but free therapy is bound to be better than unaddressed generational trauma and the waiting list’ll probably get to you by the time my point’s been proved truer than yours

Rio: Not you inadvertently pointing out that that generational trauma would be going down all branches of the family tree

Buster: I’m aware none of us are getting out completely unscathed, the apple doesn’t fall as far as my parents moved themselves in a bid to escape

Rio: Do your parents go to therapy?

Buster: She did, she doesn’t think there’s much to recommend it, and given how hard her arm was forced, I can’t say I blame her

Rio: There you go then, if I needed any more proof your suggestion wasn’t the least bit genuine

Buster: I’m suggesting it for you if you’re actually receptive to going, there’s still the possibility it could genuinely help you, under different circumstances

Rio: I wouldn’t have anything to talk about

Rio: I just don’t know if I want my Christmases to look any different

Buster: I’m hardly the person to talk to about that, I have even less control over yours than I do my own

Rio: I’m not

Rio: I was just asking what you were doing

Buster: Which I’ve already answered, the rest is useless window dressing worthy of the season but not my time

Rio: You’ve been going on and on, trying to get a dig to land

Rio: thanks for your answer, really helpful

Buster: You’re welcome

Rio: Unfortunately for you, I’m sure we’ll see each other before you leave, even if not on the actual day so

Buster: I’ll find a way to cope, helpfully, as your Christmas is set to crash and burn without any from me

Rio: ‘Tis the season 🥂

Rio: Edie might give it a go but it’s looking unlikely

Buster: Voyeurism isn’t my go-to but she never lacks an audience

Rio: Creepy as that was to say, you’re still not her target demographic

Buster: No creepier than her target demographic, I’d bet

Rio: It’s just other kids like her and Liam pretending

Buster: Excluding anyone pretending to be a kid, yeah

Rio: The stranger danger riot act coming from you?

Buster: What’s that supposed to mean?

Rio: It’s just funny that you’re giving me all these lectures when I can see how you spend your time via Nance’s excessive social media posting

Buster: If you can’t tell the difference between a lecture and an observation, you really are spending too long on Nance’s socials

Rio: Voyeurism isnt your thing nor mine

Buster: Neither is being hit over the head and yet, your family repeatedly try their best to succeed where my postcode’s attention seeking has failed

Rio: Where’s the try, honey

Rio: it comes naturally

Buster: Not the flex you think it is to be a natural disaster, but take the accolades where you can

Rio: I don’t ‘flex’

Rio: You’ll acclimatise soon, remember where you are

Buster: Of course not, what is there to take pride in, where you are?

Rio: Where we are is where our parents got us, no pride to be taken

Buster: None before a fall, which yours have got you headed for at any given time

Rio: Your concern is touching but I’m just fine

Buster: My concern is non-existent, like your reassurance of how fine you are

Rio: As you don’t care then the issue is the same

Rio: I’ll sort it myself

Buster: You didn’t ask for solutions to any of your issues

Rio: I can’t make her leave him alone, if that’s what he’ll be

Buster: Either they’re a legitimate couple and he can join my dad for a pint or they aren’t and his Christmases are numbered

Rio: Be nice to live in your world where everything is black and white

Buster: Shades of grey is a book title and a shit one at that

Rio: I didn’t hate the books

Buster: You wouldn’t

Rio: Have you actually read them?

Rio: Or just heard that they sucked and gone with popular opinion

Buster: I started, and in mine, she should’ve sought out some other opinions on what makes a decent book, leading man or relationship

Rio: It’s not supposed to be an aspirational relationship

Rio: but at least that’s your own incorrect opinion, I suppose

Buster: Tell that to everyone lapping it up as one

Rio: People just find [the actor] attractive, there’s not much else to it

Buster: They live boring lives, not a me problem

Rio: You wish

Buster: You can see how I spend my time, allegedly

Buster: perhaps you’re bored witnessing it but I’m not living it

Rio: That’s a relief

Buster: I’ll have to save some stuff for my early twenties too, babe

Rio: There’s still all the clubs that you’re too young for

Buster: That’s a relief

Rio: Do you like [whatever club Nancy has told us she cannot wait to go to] too?

Buster: As you just pointed out, I’m yet to be allowed in

Buster: What's to like about playing a waiting game?

Rio: Delayed gratifications not your bag neither, cool

Rio: I don’t know, whatever she’s hyped it up to being in her head from the stories is probably going to be better than it will be now, something to be said for it

Buster: I go after what I want when I want it

Buster: daydreaming’s for people who never will

Rio: Waitings all there is sometimes, it’s unavoidable

Rio: may as well enjoy it

Buster: Setting goals you can achieve now while the bigger ones are falling into place is enjoyable, you can avoid sitting still

Rio: There’s not sitting still with five brothers and sisters, trust me

Buster: It’s unlikely I’ll get any more than the 2 sisters, taking your word for it is all I can do

Rio: I’d say never say never but it seems unlikely it’s in the 5-year plan, yeah

Buster: We’re enough

Rio: Enough trouble or as a compliment?

Rio: My mama is going to have more, which is going to be weird

Buster: She can take my surprise she’s not pregnant already as a compliment

Rio: You can have that conversation with her, weirdo

Rio: Not particularly festive but not the weirdest by our family’s standard

Buster: The gift that keeps on giving is I’m too old to be forced into awkward conversation with every relative in the room

Rio: Good luck trying to avoid my mammy as one of them though

Buster: I don’t need luck, everyone else will be wanting to talk to her whether she brings him or not

Rio: Hence I can hardly blame her for wanting to skip the turkey and stuffing

Buster: But you do, you haven’t stopped sulking

Rio: Because there’s a little more at stake here than that, if you hadn’t heard that less sexy nugget of gossip

Buster: I don’t listen to gossip, wrong twin

Rio: Yeah, well

Rio: Junior isn’t here

Buster: Yeah, well

Buster: Santa isn’t real

Rio: How mature

Buster: It’s an excuse for a piss up, like St Paddy’s or granddad’s birthday, no magic

Rio: I’m not asking for a miracle

Rio: I’m saying if we weren’t playing happy families then perhaps his daddy might be more inclined to let us know where he is if not see him

Buster: And I’m saying, your mummy and new daddy might as well drown their sorrows here over the choices they’ve made and their consequences, she’ll have to own them regardless of where you spend the hol

Rio: It’ll be a choice she’s made for him, not herself

Buster: I wouldn’t know what she’s doing or for who, you’re in a better position to judge that

Rio: Not so

Rio: If you weren’t obligated to, you’d not choose to spend your time with them either

Buster: Unfortunately, I’ve got years left before I can decide how I’d rather spend my time, cheers for the reminder

Rio: What else are we here for but to make your life just that little bit shitty

Buster: The choice is yours to antagonise me

Rio: Nope, that’s all yours

Buster: Name one recent conversation I’ve started, it’s always you

Rio: Exactly, you choose to come at it with this attitude, not me

Buster: I don’t come at you, full stop, I leave you alone

Rio: Dreadful manners

Buster: It’s as bad manners to initiate unwanted conversation

Rio: Such a boy

Buster: There are plenty of girls you can talk to instead

Rio: I only needed to know what you were doing on the day

Buster: Ask Nance, she’s synced up to the same calendar I am

Rio: Too late now but next time

Buster: Or Ava, she has the best manners, if you’re concerned with them

Rio: She’s also a child

Buster: She knows what we’re doing

Rio: Don’t be awkward

Buster: Don’t pretend you only care about festive logistics

Rio: I’m not pretending, I don’t

Buster: What do you want from me?

Rio: I thought you might have some actual advice but that was a mistake, forget it

Buster: What do you want to achieve?

Rio: I don’t know, what I can

Rio: I just want the others to have a good day, to know where Junior is

Buster: I’d be doing you no favours acting like where or how he is is something either of us can control

Rio: Yeah, fair enough

Buster: You could still make sure they have a good day though, in spite of his dad’s disappearing act

Rio: Grace wouldn’t mind staying home but all the others would rather be at the pub with everyone else

Rio: I’ll just have to tell her, or take everyone for lunch after presents, that could work

Buster: Tell her she’s outnumbered, no-one’s fault but her own she can’t stop having kids or that they’re opinionated

Rio: I don’t think I’ll phrase it quite like that

Buster: Soften it with your nice manners, naturally

Rio: Naturally

Rio: I can make it sound like a nice thing, alone time for them

Buster: It will be, honeymoon phase obviously being far from over

Rio: That’d be a poor show, even for a normal couple

Buster: We don’t know any normal couples, normalised is as close as we’re getting

Rio: Rude but true

Rio: I meant he’s the love of her life, not just a love of the current moment

Buster: I know what you meant

Rio: I don’t dislike him, it’s not that cliche for me

Buster: Even if you did, you wouldn’t prioritise it

Rio: Of course not

Rio: it’s about the kids

Buster: They’re her ultimate priority, love of her life or not, anything else is bullshit

Rio: And that’s true, whatever you may think

Buster: It doesn’t matter what I think

Rio: Just saying, don’t

Buster: I’m not

Rio: You are capable of manners, when you choose to

Buster: If she was unfit it’d have been evident before now, there’s none, despite what Junior’s dad thinks

Rio: He’s always been like that

Rio: It must be hard, being in his position but there’s no excuse to do this

Buster: A prick? Yeah

Rio: Jealous and insecure

Buster: And a pussy, exactly

Rio: No one wants to be second-best

Buster: No-one made him settle for being, he chose to be with her with the knowledge he was

Rio: And you wouldn’t?

Buster: Fuck no, I don’t go where I’m not wanted

Rio: Hmm

Rio: but if I was in love with someone, maybe I’d put up with it

Buster: It’s not love if it’s that one-sided they’d be willing to let you put up with that, can’t be

Buster: it’s an exercise in self-harm, about you more than them

Rio: It wasn’t one-sided, you can still care for someone even if you can’t give them everything

Buster: You get one love of your life, if our parents have taught us anything

Buster: but if they don’t love you back, it’s not, call it infatuation, obsession, whatever you want, how well can you say you know them if you don’t realise it’s blatantly one-sided?

Rio: Some people aren’t as lucky, that’s all I’m saying

Rio: Ronan obviously thinks she’s the love of his life but she can’t be

Rio: I’d probably go crazy too, in that position

Buster: Some people wouldn’t know what to do with the actual love of their life, so they cling to someone who isn’t, can’t be and has shown no indication that they are

Buster: like I said, he’s a pussy

Rio: And what about my daddy?

Buster: He doesn’t love anyone but himself

Rio: Ha 🙄

Buster: No-one finds it funny, except him maybe

Rio: Forget I asked, seriously

Buster: Because you don’t like my answer

Rio: Because you don’t know him, so you can’t make an educated guess

Buster: And you do?

Rio: Yes, Buster, I do

Buster: I see you more often than he does, a flight away

Rio: And when’s the last time we had a quality conversation?

Buster: When’s the last time your dad was capable of holding a conversation, when he was our age? He’s too high on his own supply

Rio: I’ve had conversations with him

Buster: About himself and things he cares about

Rio: I care about the things he cares about, getting to know him

Buster: Which doesn’t mean it’s reciprocal, just because you wish it was

Rio: I know he loves me

Rio: that’s all that matters

Buster: What matters is he shows it, when does he?

Rio: You know that we see him at Christmas too

Buster: That isn’t what I asked

Rio: I don’t know why you’re asking

Buster: Yeah you do, you’re not an idiot

Rio: There’s no need to point score

Buster: His loss doesn’t win me anything

Rio: Just more smug satisfaction

Buster: What satisfaction do you think I get from watching your stubborn blindspot to his fuck ups?

Rio: We only get one mum and one dad too, you know

Buster: Which doesn’t mean they can treat you like shit, mine have earned my love and respect

Rio: Mine too

Buster: You’ve given yours, earned or not

Rio: It is

Rio: None of us are perfect

Buster: It isn’t though

Buster: and he isn’t even good, never mind perfect

Rio: What do you want from me?

Buster: I’m not going to get it, and you’re not going to get anything you want from him

Rio: Merry Christmas, like

Buster: Being grounded in reality isn’t all fun and games

Rio: Dreaming never hurt anybody

Buster: Deluding yourself will, especially where he’s concerned

Rio: I know who he is and what, okay

Buster: Does Grace? You act like you’re super concerned for the kids but that’s all it is if you don’t follow through on her not getting hurt

Rio: I look after all my siblings, don’t try to tell me how to do my job

Buster: If my dad was a fucking deadbeat I wouldn’t let Ava get her hopes up he wasn’t, that he gave a shit when he’s nothing but a selfish user of your mum and now you

Rio: Wow

Buster: Do your job properly or don’t pretend you care

Rio: You know as little about Grace as you do my dad so just leave it out

Buster: You wish, everyone knows it’s a shitshow of a situation

Rio: It doesn’t matter or mean anything to you

Buster: It’ll be embarrassing when history repeats itself in the years to come before I’m divorced from this

Rio: I don’t care and you’ll survive

Buster: Clearly, your sibling bullshit is just that, totally performative

Rio: Fuck you

Rio: you have no idea what I do for them

Buster: Not enough, whatever you supposedly do

Buster: because you’re preoccupied giving your daddy endless chances to be a disappointment

Rio: That’s not true at all

Buster: Yeah it is

Rio: It’s not, if you think that then you don’t know me at all anymore

Buster: Everyone knows you’re too much like your mum for your own good in that sense, I’m the only one who’ll say it to your face, that’s all

Buster: other members of the family would rather consider it a virtue or ignore the unfavourable comparison entirely, along with the situation

Rio: You can see it however you want

Rio: I’d rather be like her any day

Buster: I see it how it is, as a weakness he’s exploited

Rio: Love is not a weakness

Buster: He doesn’t love you

Rio: I hate you, you know

Buster: Hate me then, I’m right regardless

Buster: he hasn’t proved he loves you with a single one of his actions

Rio: If he didn’t love me, the twins wouldn’t exist, he’d not have come back

Buster: He didn’t come back for you, he’s an opportunist

Rio: Your toddler wisdom told you that? You have no clue

Buster: You don’t, I can follow the clues easily because I’m not being emotionally manipulated

Rio: Are you done upsetting me?

Buster: Remind me how many other kids he has first, is anyone even keeping count anywhere?

Rio: You’re so judgmental

Buster: Because that isn’t the behaviour of someone who thinks you’re special and values you, or any of his kids, for that matter

Rio: You’re the one that’s insecure about being enough for your parents, not me

Buster: Not me either, babe

Buster: I’m very secure in my achievements and potential

Rio: Very secure people don’t spend their time running others down but sure

Buster: You asked, it isn’t my fault you can’t handle the truth

Rio: The truths not whatever you say it is

Buster: Nor is it what you pray for before you go to sleep

Rio: My reality suits me as well as yours does, thanks

Buster: My reality’s the same as everyone else’s, it suits me to live in the real world

Rio: So down-to-earth

Buster: Head in the clouds wouldn’t get me far

Rio: ✈️ get your furthest

Buster: Only to Dublin for the foreseeable

Rio: Try not to say commiserations instead of cheers

Rio: people here actually care about you

Buster: I’m capable of manners, when I choose to

Rio: Allegedly so

Buster: In your own words, unless you don’t trust your instincts all of a sudden

Rio: I don’t trust your intentions, for good reason

Buster: You’re far too bad of a judge of character for me to be offended

Rio: Intuition isn’t needed, you’ve provided all the proof necessary

Buster: Now you’re interested in proof, hypocritical but in no way unexpected

Rio: You’ve been a bastard this entire conversation, entirely on purpose

Rio: I fail to see what else you wanted me to take from it

Buster: Grow a backbone so I don’t have to leave you a random body part under the tree, wrapping that would be a bastard

Rio: No one believes you wrap your own gifts

Buster: Well, I’m willing to make exceptions sometimes

Rio: To prove a point, I’m certain

Buster: Are you the only one allowed to be stubborn?

Rio: If we had to share traits, you can keep it

Buster: I have to share more than enough as is, thanks

Rio: I’m the wrong person to share your twin woes with

Buster: I couldn’t compete with your sob story, I know

Buster: don’t worry, you can keep it

Rio: You’re the one trying to make my life one big tragedy

Buster: If the shoe fits, turn it into a fairy tale instead, yeah?

Rio: Your parents sort of covered the whole rags to riches thing

Buster: Your mum covered so many kids she didn’t know what to do, and without being old or living in said shoe, congrats

Rio: Less than nan at current count

Buster: She thought she knew what to do, she just happened to be wrong

Rio: If you want to talk about who’s really stubborn

Buster: Must be where we both ours from

Rio: Probably

Rio: can’t just blame her for the generational trauma

Buster: Your life doesn’t have to be a tragedy because he’s useless, you know that, don’t you?

Rio: Oh my God

Rio: yes, I know that because my life is not and will not be a tragedy

Buster: Good

Rio: I’ll assure you it’s not going to be embarrassing, my future, even though it’s not your business

Buster: You’re not trying to impress or reassure me, understood

Rio: You aren’t my target demographic either, no

Buster: And I’m only interested in targeting your insecurities, past, present and future

Rio: Assess your priorities, honestly

Buster: Assess yours, you’re the only person I’ve ever met with an angel on each shoulder

Rio: Aw, now you’re working overtime to say something nice to me

Buster: Nice? I can’t think of a bigger shame or waste of potential

Rio: Oh hush

Rio: I can’t help that how lovely I am makes you feel bad for your moodiness

Buster: You’ll finish last every single time, that’s the genuine tragedy

Rio: You can only wait and see how wrong you are and that’s your least favourite thing to do so

Buster: I’m rarely wrong, I don’t need to wait it out

Rio: Why are you so scared of being nice?

Buster: I’m not scared of anything, there’s absolutely nothing to gain by being a doormat, as you’ve highlighted

Rio: I’m not a doormat

Buster: You’re too nice, it’s the same thing ultimately, people walk all over you

Rio: It’s not people, he’s my dad

Rio: it’s different, an exception

Buster: He isn’t the only person who does

Rio: Like who?

Buster: Your other nan, all your siblings, every boy you’ve been out with, to name a few examples of the countless

Rio: They’re family

Rio: and they’re exes for a reason

Buster: It’s a pattern for a reason

Rio: Boys suck, that’s the pattern you’re seeing

Buster: No, you put everyone else’s needs ahead of yours, constantly

Rio: I get what I need

Buster: Why are you so scared of focusing on yourself?

Rio: You said I should focus on my siblings before

Buster: Because I know the likelihood of the alternative, I’m not going to back a horse that won’t run

Rio: Your way with words leaves a lot to be desired

Buster: I’m not captain of the debate team right now, school’s out

Rio: Always time for a humble brag

Buster: I never have time for humble

Rio: Excuse my manners for the misunderstanding

Buster: You always look for the good, doesn’t mean it’s there

Buster: that’s the misunderstanding you should worry more about

Rio: Said like you knew any of my boyfriends anyway, boy

Buster: They aren’t mysterious and we all know your type, no-one could call you shy when it comes to staying true to said form and another established, predictable pattern

Rio: 😅 Do we now?

Buster: Yeah

Rio: Maybe from where you’re sitting but they’ve been vastly different

Buster: Not where it matters

Rio: Give me a chance, I’ve got years to find the one

Buster: A chance to do what? Other than what you always do

Rio: Says you

Rio: you’re allowed to have fun

Buster: So are you, why aren’t you?

Rio: I am

Buster: Where and when?

Rio: I like having boyfriends, what’s hard to get about that?

Buster: If you like them that much, why are you collecting exes instead?

Rio: Well you either break up or stay together forever

Rio: sort of how it works

Buster: What you like is maths, or you’re at least good at it

Rio: Do you have homework?

Buster: Every break, no exceptions

Rio: If you ask nicer than that, I’ll help

Buster: I don’t need your help

Rio: Oh, why did you bring it up then?

Buster: I was bringing up odds, since you’re playing them in your dating life

Rio: Improving them with every new boyfriend, exactly

Buster: Slightly

Rio: No sense meeting them too early is there

Buster: I’d struggle to make sense of why you met up with any of them

Rio: You aren’t gay, you wouldn’t understand

Buster: Their appeal wouldn’t be difficult to understand, objectively, if they possessed any

Rio: You wouldn’t, you’re too stubborn

Rio: you want to be right and me to be all wrong

Buster: I don’t because they don’t and you are wrong

Rio: All my boyfriends have been hot

Rio: it’s their undesirable personality quirks that got them dumped

Buster: If you were a 6 or 7, but you’re not

Rio: So you’re saying my boyfriends should be hotter?

Buster: You could do better, aim higher

Rio: So could you though

Buster: I’m well aware none of them are a match for me

Rio: Brutal

Buster: Honest

Rio: It doesn’t make you feel bad?

Buster: About what?

Rio: I don’t know, I would feel bad if I was getting with lads that I thought were beneath me

Buster: It’s unavoidable, they’re all beneath me

Rio: Do you honestly think everyone is?

Buster: Thus far

Rio: Wow

Rio: Must be lonely

Buster: Like I said, you can keep your victory in the sob story stakes nevertheless

Rio: I’m good, thanks

Buster: Me too

Rio: Glad to hear it

Buster: I’m glad you’ve swallowed down your faux sympathy

Rio: Why would I feel sorry for you?

Buster: Exactly, don’t

Rio: I should, purely for how uncomfortable it makes you

Buster: You should keep your promise not to be embarrassing

Rio: You can have it

Rio: You and your big speeches

Buster: You’ve never heard a speech before, makes sense

Buster: if your school has a debate team they’d reject you for being needlessly concerned with manners

Rio: I’m pretty sure respect is a fundamental with any debate, no

Rio: but it’s safe to say I would not be caught dead

Buster: Sportsmanship isn’t tripping over yourself to be nice, it’s fairness

Rio: I don’t find it as hard as you clearly perceive it to be, being nice

Buster: No, you find it hard to set a boundary, which isn’t fair to anyone

Rio: Jesus

Rio: says the boy who keeps talking when I tell him to shut up

Buster: You wanted to talk

Rio: You’ve danced on the boundaries I’ve set but no, keep telling me I’m wrong, you arsehole

Buster: I touched a nerve, you’re upset because everyone else tells you how great you are and I don’t

Rio: Bollocks am I

Rio: I’m upset because you’re saying hurtful things to get a reaction

Buster: I won’t say what you want to hear

Rio: I don’t care what you have to say, we don’t need to talk

Buster: Then don’t ask me for my opinion

Rio: I’m not

Buster: You did, I wasn’t giving it unsolicited

Rio: I don’t know what your problem is, genuinely

Buster: I’ve stated them, I don’t know how you expect me to much more plainly

Rio: Not your problem with me, your problem in general but it isn’t mine so never mind

Buster: I don’t have problems in general

Rio: Yep, it would be totally logical for me to be the beginning and the end of all of this anger you have

Buster: You provoke it, yeah

Rio: You’re antagonising

Buster: I avoid confrontation with you at every family event by avoiding you

Rio: I’ve done nothing to you, to make you hate me like this

Buster: You do nothing, that’s true

Rio: Just go back to ignoring me then

Buster: Stop ignoring everything, you’re so fucking passive whatever happens

Rio: Do you think I want a confrontation any more than you do?

Rio: You think you have more to lose but you don’t

Buster: You don’t want anything, not for yourself

Rio: Of course I do

Buster: All you care about is holding other people’s shit together

Rio: Why is it a bad thing to not want our family to fall apart?

Buster: You’re going to pull yourself apart trying

Rio: Your parents could leave because they had each other

Buster: They pick their battles, so do I

Rio: Could’ve fooled me

Buster: You’re a war, you have no idea

Rio: Pretty sure I do

Buster: You don’t

Rio: Now you’re being silly

Buster: You think you’ve seen even a fraction of the anger I have

Rio: I’m not afraid of you, Buster

Buster: Why would you be? It isn’t directed at you, my hate isn’t

Rio: Like I said, I don’t want to see anything bad happen

Buster: Closing your eyes to it won’t make it go away

Rio: And nothing you’ve attempted has either but still

Buster: Nothing I’ve attempted was going to work

Rio: Doesn’t mean either of us can stop trying

Buster: I know that

Rio: Yeah, it’ll be fine, don’t worry

Rio: we’re barely going to be there

Buster: It’ll have to be, running out of options isn’t one, not for me

Rio: I can talk to someone else about this

Buster: You can do whatever you want, I’ve said my piece

Rio: Loud and clear

Buster: Attention on the former usually distracts from the latter

Rio: Thanks for the tip

Rio: If you happen to go out, avoid [a pub that you and your friends can get in]

Buster: Because I’m clearly a tourist who’ll loudly attract trouble?

Rio: If you like

Rio: though you’re not the loud twin, if we’re doing labels

Buster: Sometimes I am, if you like

Rio: TMI

Buster: If your mind will find itself in the gutter

Rio: You said it on purpose like that

Buster: But I could mean many different circumstances, your brain specified that one

Rio: I don’t need law school ambitions to know what plausible deniability is, thank you very much

Buster: You don’t need to warn me where to avoid, I know where you go, without your love of maths to point me in the direction of probability

Rio: Okay

Rio: Just trying to be proactive

Buster: As I’m so reactive

Rio: As you said I do nothing

Buster: You don’t do what I want you to

Rio: I am now

Buster: No, but if I have to tell you, you’re still not

Rio: Running out of options isn’t one

Buster: Being backed into a corner isn’t either

Rio: We’re on the same page, that has to make things easier

Buster: Easier for who?

Rio: Us

Rio: Everyone else remains oblivious

Buster: There’s no easier for us

Rio: That’s defeatist for you

Buster: Giving up would be defeatist

Rio: I suppose that’s true

Buster: What’s worthwhile is difficult, first lesson I ever learnt

Rio: And then they left you up the mountain

Buster: And then I got myself down

Rio: You wanted to make up for Nance getting here before you

Buster: She brings it up every chance she gets, won’t let me live that down

Rio: Quite right

Buster: No, I was, staying as long as I could, we were too early

Buster: probably why she’s dyslexic, serves her right

Rio: I don’t know about that

Rio: but I’m glad you didn’t steal my birthday thunder

Buster: Terrible manners and an even worse first impression if I had

Rio: Be why you were in a rush to get out, can’t miss my birth

Buster: Took you years of hard work to hate me, why rush that?

Rio: You know I don’t actually hate you

Buster: I’ll keep trying

Rio: Good luck

Buster: How was your birthday?

Rio: Everything has been kinda weird since

Rio: but yeah, not terrible

Rio: yours?

Buster: I can’t remember, mine was ages ago

Rio: So you were wasted

Buster: Realistically, weren’t you?

Rio: Liam and Edie did a Halloween thing

Rio: I was having fun

Buster: [give her a costume specific compliment whatever she dressed up as cos she would’ve and you would’ve seen it and remember even if you don’t your party antics]

Rio: [tell him his party theme as if you’re jogging his memory and not just pointing out you also saw content]

Rio: Una liked [and whatever drug(s) you are saying you tried because the energy of not being drunk but also participating in this soiree]

Buster: What did you like?

Rio: [the party drug vibe] was fun but [something more trippy and introspective like acid or shrooms] wasn’t a good idea

Buster: [exchanging drug slang like lol lol in chelsea we call it this isn’t that posh and ridiculous because rich people truly can’t help themselves and he isn’t tancy, he can’t pretend he’s here for the silliness]

Rio: Are you messing?

Buster: Seriously

Rio: Oh wow

Rio: I’ve now got the biggest ick for all your cute friends

Buster: What cute friends?

Rio: Well, I fear that might be the case now

Buster: Consider the near miss a belated birthday or early Christmas present, babe

Rio: Yeah, yeah 😏

Rio: Nance doesn’t invite me over often enough for it to be a problem for you

Buster: She would if you still had the hots for any of our friends

Rio: Oh, I know 💘

Rio: There are enough players in that game though as is

Buster: It’s no Truth or Dare

Rio: No but I’m sure you play that still too

Buster: Don’t you?

Rio: I have, sure

Rio: Not recently

Buster: Why not?

Rio: Does there have to be why? 🤔

Buster: There always is

Rio: If you’re asking if I have a new boyfriend

Rio: I’ve been a little preoccupied lately

Buster: I wasn’t, your socials would tell me the answer should I have questions

Rio: Excuse you, I don’t post my every single thought or ALL my business

Buster: You post all your boyfriends

Rio: Just the ones I like would make me sound bad so okay, fine

Buster: I doubt they’re earning the label unless deemed worthy, by you at least, however temporarily

Rio: You mentioned how exacting your standards are, at least in theory

Buster: I hold myself to a high one, exempting anyone else would be ridiculous

Rio: I suppose I see the logic

Buster: It’s fairly self-explanatory

Rio: I just don’t like the implication that I have low standards, obviously

Rio: because I don’t

Buster: You have room to improve

Rio: So condescending, well done

Buster: A pep talk isn’t what you’re looking for

Rio: And you get off with idiots, same as me, same as everyone else

Buster: I’m not taking it personally, you are

Rio: You wouldn’t take your own high and mighty hypocrisy personally, duh

Buster: I don’t tether myself to the idiots I’m surrounded by to an unnecessary degree

Rio: Maybe it’s necessary for me

Buster: Of course you’d believe that

Rio: We can’t all be self-sufficient islands

Rio: I don’t want to be

Buster: You don’t want to admit defeat, when the lost cause shows himself to be

Rio: I’m not a quitter

Rio: doesn’t make me delusional

Buster: You’re a martyr

Rio: A martyr, really?

Buster: Really

Rio: We’ve both known actual martyrs, what that looks like

Buster: Recognising an example at its most extreme doesn’t mean I can’t also when you’re yet to take yours as far

Rio: Wow

Rio: at least you’ve said how you really feel, yeah

Buster: Those are the rules, unless you’re going to dare me

Rio: Dare you to be a nice person?

Rio: Would be a waste

Buster: Of an opportunity, for you

Rio: Precisely, you’re perfectly capable if you choose it

Buster: What I’m capable of isn’t up for debate

Rio: Unless I ask you that, next truth

Buster: If you want to waste that too

Rio: Nah, it’s your turn anyway

Buster: I already told you I don’t have any questions

Rio: So

Buster: Tell your mum the truth instead

Rio: I don’t need to

Rio: I know what to do, everyone will be happy

Buster: Everyone is meant to include you

Rio: If everyone else is, why wouldn’t I be

Buster: Because it doesn’t work like that

Rio: It can

Rio: ‘tis the season for it

Buster: Excuses tend to start in January

Rio: It’s not an excuse!

Rio: Christmas is for the kids, that’s all that any of us cares about really

Buster: Maybe that’s a valid argument tried on someone else

Rio: Nothing changes for you, you can avoid me as usual

Buster: Nothing changes for you either

Rio: Ha, if only

Rio: nothing feels like it used to lately, this is me trying

Buster: Overcompensating

Rio: Projecting

Rio: two can play at this game, babe

Buster: What astute psychoanalysis

Rio: No need for a PHD, naturally

Buster: Or such boring strategies, in my case

Rio: You’re very entertained, sure

Buster: There’s no shortage, whatever the season

Rio: I’ll leave you to it then

Rio: no sense in saying see you around

Buster: Like you said, we won’t and don’t need to

Buster: merry Christmas

Rio: This is so fucking bleak

Rio: can we not at least pretend to be civil?

Buster: Other family members will indulge you in all the polite small talk you could possibly want

Rio: I don’t want small talk

Buster: I don’t want to pretend

Rio: So stop

Buster: Is that a dare?

Rio: If you’re too scared to do it else

Buster: It isn’t your turn, remember

Rio: Awh, it’s okay

Buster: You’ll be without me holding your hand through [insert a christmas tradition he’s mocking here]

Rio: When have you ever and where was I asking

Rio: You’ll be far too busy with your own and no one would ask otherwise 🍺🎯🎲🍺

Buster: [insert a childhood mem that there’s no need for him to bring up remotely, which is giving the energy of them sticking together/him looking after her through something]

Rio: Now he’s the memory

Buster: You’re the forgetful one

Rio: No, I’m the overly sentimental one, I’d forget nothing

Buster: And yet, you seemingly have who I am

Rio: Wishful thinking or genuinely?

Buster: You’re genuinely accusing me of being fake, aren’t you?

Rio: You said you don’t want to pretend, which means you are

Buster: You said you wanted us to, for civility’s sake

Rio: That’s not what I meant

Buster: It’s all I meant

Rio: Fine, tell me to keep up so you’ve covered stupid as well as poor

Rio: who’ll buy it if you don’t cover all bases

Buster: Find someone else to play with instead of flattering yourself your games are granting you unprecedented insight into my psyche

Rio: What psyche

Rio: You’re as transparent and predictable as every other boy in your postcode, congrats on it

Buster: Definite wishful thinking

Rio: On your part, perhaps but you’re so close

Buster: On yours, but hopefully the resulting ick you’re pretending to have will encourage you to keep your distance

Rio: You can keep your hope for yourself

Buster: Why waste it?

Rio: It’s Christmas, live a little, Buster

Buster: It’s [whatever the date is like nope not yet]

Rio: A little too late to make the nice list

Buster: I’m top of my parents’ list

Rio: No you’re not, let’s not lie

Buster: You don’t know that Ava’s uncovered the Santa lie, that’s an educated guess

Rio: And she’s a smart girl, as well as the favourite

Buster: Yeah well, predictably, she’s my favourite too

Rio: You aren’t meant to have favourites

Rio: but I’m sure Nancy can cope better without the twin closeness than Gracie does

Buster: She does, hers is herself

Buster: and I’m sure it helps her cope with lots of things

Rio: Self-interest is a protective measure, sure

Rio: the only person who can let you down is yourself

Buster: Still no need for a PhD

Rio: They aren’t the letters you want after your name anyway and I sure as hell won’t get them either

Buster: You don’t want them either, you’re purely prodding to try and touch a nerve and get your own back, not for any deeper interest in the subject

Rio: No I am not

Rio: if I wanted to get a reaction out of you, I could do it easily

Buster: No you couldn’t, let’s not lie, babe

Rio: Uhuh 🙄

Buster: Fine, I’ll humour you for a second

Buster: What else do you want if not a reaction?

Rio: What more could I possibly want than to annoy you

Rio: that’s what you want to pretend this is, go for it

Buster: You tell me

Buster: I’m offering you the chance to

Rio: Alright

Rio: you have to join in [the family tradition he mentioned mockingly earlier]

Buster: Because?

Rio: Because it’ll make me happy to see you suffer a little

Buster: I won’t, I thrive in the face of adversity, festive themed or otherwise

Rio: Maybe your poker face isn’t all you think it to be, boy

Buster: You’ve never beat me

Rio: Selective memory much

Rio: I’ve beat you plenty of times

Buster: Genetic advantage, my mum has a stack of chips where her heart would be, so the story goes, in everyone’s living memory

Rio: The stories are just that though

Buster: I learnt from the best, that’s fact

Rio: I’m not disputing that

Buster: You tried and failed to

Rio: No, genius, my point is that the family folklore can say about anything we want, it’s that sprawling

Buster: No, yours was that you’ve won before, which you haven’t

Rio: I’m not arguing with a loser

Buster: Arguing with yourself wouldn’t make you as happy

Rio: Yeah, I’m elated right now

Buster: You’re distracted, it’s what you came to me for

Rio: Is that what you do?

Buster: To you

Rio: Or for

Buster: The least I can now you aren’t crying

Rio: You’re a little too old to try to use that one for an insult

Buster: If I was insulting you, I could think of better

Rio: Good

Rio: that and pulling my hair belongs back with the Santa lie

Buster: Shame, but yeah, there’s too much of it to be anything but the easiest target

Rio: Have to try harder

Buster: Fight fairer, or I’d get banned from the boxing gym for being a bad sport

Rio: You know the rules better than that

Buster: I make my own rules, you know that

Rio: I learnt that from the best

Buster: Me too

Rio: There’s some traits not to run from

Buster: Plenty

Rio: You don’t stay away completely

Rio: and you could, wouldn’t be the first

Buster: You heard me say my parents earnt my love and respect

Buster: and about Ava, we’re a family

Rio: Of course you are

Buster: Even Nance

Rio: Yeah

Buster: They don’t stay away completely, I’m not going to, black and white again

Rio: It’s their decision until it’s yours, I get it

Buster: I trust their decision making, it’s been sound

Rio: Not steered wrong

Buster: They get the balance right

Rio: Works for them, why not you

Buster: Exactly, what isn’t broke doesn’t need fixing

Rio: I never said anything about your family

Buster: Your manners prevent you

Buster: but there wouldn’t be a lot to say

Rio: Why would I stoop to that level

Rio: I get it constantly, from worse-intentioned people than you

Buster: Swap you my neighbours for a few days, give you a taste of what we get as well, why not?

Rio: I’m aware that you’ve happily assimilated, that’s what you’ve told me

Buster: You can’t fully with posh cunts

Rio: Still Irish

Buster: Less bullshit titles means they still think you’re poor scum compared to them, even when you have more assets and a steady non inherited income

Rio: Earning it isn’t like being born with it

Rio: and it’s crass to talk about it

Rio: I’ve read plenty of other books, I know the sort

Buster: With a silver spoon in your mouth in a manor house that’s falling down or it doesn’t equal shit, naturally

Rio: Someone will accept you, despite your dreadful background and it’ll all be very romantic, if said books are to be believed

Buster: I don’t need their acceptance, only Nance cares

Rio: You don’t do you

Rio: saving yourself a lot of hassle, that’s for certain

Buster: They’ll come to me expecting to be saved from hassle when I’m qualified

Rio: Connections and cash

Buster: Both’ll talk for me

Rio: I get it, you know

Buster: You always did, ever since I said I wanted to be a lawyer at [whatever age, because it’s giving a kid when other peeps would lol or lovingly mock him thinking he was gonna change his mind, because clearly he watched or read something]

Rio: You can have it

Rio: whatever you put your mind to, that’s just fact too

Buster: [however many years] until Harvard, then you can have me out of your way

Rio: Yeah, I really believe there was the slightest consideration for me in that decision

Buster: You wouldn’t believe I was being honest if I told you there was

Rio: I think we both lost count of who’s turn it was a while ago

Buster: It was the furthest I could imagine going when I was [whatever age]

Rio: Away from me

Buster: People start new lives in America, that’s the film cliche

Rio: You can take day trips to New York

Buster: Perhaps I’ll set up my law firm there, everyone would love visiting even dad

Rio: I can see it

Buster: Yeah, I can too

Rio: Keep counting down the days

Buster: I am

Buster: [tell her how many because you’ve worked it out because you seriously think if you get far away enough from her and throw yourself into your future career goals everything will be fine]

Rio: You’re cute

Buster: Don’t

Rio: I’m not taking the piss, it’s sweet, that’s all

Buster: It’s patronising to call my future plans sweet

Rio: Alright, sorry

Buster: Congrats on finally touching a nerve though

Rio: I told you I wasn’t interested

Buster: You know it isn’t a pipe dream, that I’m absolutely serious

Rio: I said so

Rio: It’s what you want so you’ll make it happen

Buster: I should go do my homework instead of letting you distract me

Rio: Guess that’s what a future New York lawyer would do, yeah

Buster: [send her the schedule deets via a screenshot of this fam calendar or whatever of what time y’all’s flight is etc for christmas and what you’re doing when as it’s currently written like there you go so you can properly avoid me]

Rio: I’ll see you [at the parts of the schedule you expect to be at too]

Buster: Unavoidably

Rio: Don’t

Buster: It is, I would if I could

Rio: Why do you have to say it

Buster: Because

Rio: You can’t fob me off like that, I don’t have a dad, remember

Buster: Because I don’t want to see you at [the things he will]

Rio: Tough

Rio: and you’ll see me at [naming every event casually in a not at all petty manner]

Rio: forever

Buster: No, I’ll only see you at marriages and funerals eventually, how other distant relatives who minimise having to be in the same room do

Rio: The flight is 6 and a half hours

Rio: the world isn’t as big as you thought

Buster: It’s as big as I decide to make it, my rules

Rio: You said you trusted your parents' judgment

Buster: I remember what I said

Rio: I can’t believe your big plan includes becoming a deadbeat who doesn’t give a fuck about any of us

Buster: You’re none of my business, I’m not responsible for any of you

Rio: Yes I am, we’re blood

Rio: doesn’t that mean anything to you?

Buster: You’re blood related to half of Dublin thanks to Caleb, where are they in your big plans?

Rio: I have reached out to them actually

Rio: which you’d know if you still knew me

Buster: But I don’t, we’re practically strangers, why would I give a fuck?

Rio: Have it your way, we’re strangers

Buster: There are just too many of you to differentiate between and keep track of, face facts, it’s like a zoo outing

Rio: You’re a cunt, you’re not blind

Buster: Neither are you, there’s nothing in it for me

Rio: Enjoy yet another self-fulfilling prophecy

Buster: Enjoy [another christmas activity he’s mocking because y’all were getting along for a sec there and he can’t have that so gotta be a massive twat]

Rio: Difference is I will and you’ll be sulking

Buster: I wouldn’t brag about being so easily pleased, is another difference

Rio: Not when you could brag about so much else

Buster: The luxury of being spoilt for choice

Rio: Got to convince yourself you’re making the right one somehow

Buster: I’ve got to make the right one for me, no-one else

Rio: See, you are just like your sister

Buster: She isn’t as stupid as her teachers are convinced she is

Rio: No one talks about her intelligence because it’ll always pale in comparison to her selfishness

Buster: She learnt from the best herself, following their example

Rio: Neither of you would be here if that were true

Buster: Our parents do exactly what they want

Buster: we’re here because of how true that is, they’re together for that very reason

Rio: Your dad doesn’t do anything that isn’t entirely about your mum, his whole job is testament

Rio: and the selfish thing to do would be get rid of the babies you don’t need at 19

Buster: Resist the urge to saint them in order to really labour your point

Buster: everyone’s aware of the amount of ego involved in having kids

Rio: People who don’t have kids say that

Buster: They showed nan up by doing a better job

Rio: Yeah?

Rio: and you think that made them feel better or nan any worse than the real fuck yous in her life, get real

Buster: We’re talking about their reasons for keeping us and what they were motivated by, that’s all

Rio: You don’t think it was because they loved you?

Buster: I’m not claiming they didn’t, or don’t

Rio: There’s no other reason to keep a child

Buster: Me and my sister have no such ties to you and your siblings, to bring us back to what we were originally talking about

Rio: And I’ve told you it’s blood

Buster: Focus on yourselves

Rio: No shit Sherlock, we’ve got empathy and compassion to go around, it’s not in limited supply

Buster: Nevertheless, a ball’s been dropped somewhere or you’d know where your little brother is

Rio: He’s been kidnapped by his dad, are you for real trying to use that because you’ve decided its in your best interest to be a selfish arsehole?

Buster: I’m not trying to use anything, you are

Buster: to try and force me to feel guilt over something I don’t

Rio: Your lacking is your problem now

Rio: this is pointless

Buster: Good

Buster: well done for finally getting my super clear message

Rio: I understood what you were doing, well done for eventually succeeding with it

Buster: I will, whatever I put my mind to, remember

Rio: Waste your time however you please too

Buster: Time spent getting you up to speed isn’t wasted

Rio: You’re not my concern now

Buster: Now we’re on the same page you aren’t mine either

Rio: You must be so happy

Buster: It isn’t your concern

Rio: Apologies for not being a psychopath

Buster: You’re obviously not going to for continuing to diagnose me

Rio: Actions say all they need to

Buster: [don’t reply and block her etc as an action like yep they do]

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umichenginabroad · 2 years ago

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Dublin Week 12: Back to the Grind

Hi again. This week was relatively uneventful, but I'll fill you guys in anyhow. How generous of me.

This was our first week back after our two week spring break, so much of my week was filled with going to classes and relearning all that I had forgotten over break. I also went to climbing a handful of times, and it was really nice to get back into it.

On Wednesday went to see the movie God's Creatures with a friend. I thought it was a great movie, if a bit depressing and slow. The movie takes place in a small Irish town, and it was really interesting to see a movie in that setting after having spent the past few months Ireland. Thankfully none of the Irish people I've met here have experienced the terrible things that happen in the movie, but there were a lot of motifs and little details in the movie that reminded me of how my friends described what growing up in Ireland was like.

On Thursday after climbing, the mountaineering club had a social event at a pub near campus, and I had a great time there with my friends Colin and Cormac.

On Saturday UCD's mountaineering club had a friendly bouldering competition against Trinity's mountaineering club. Since this competition meant cheap entry to a nice bouldering gym, I decided to go, and it was a great time. I ended up not doing very many of the routes set aside for the competition because they were super crowded, but the rest of the gym was open, so I still got in a lot of good bouldering.

After the comp, a big group of us went into town to a pub called Doyle's to have some drinks and dance. Overall it was a great night with some great craic.

On Sunday I went on yet another hike with the mountaineering club. Once again we went to the Wicklow Mountains, this time to a mountain called Mullaghcleevan. It had been raining most of the week leading up to the hike, so the trail was super wet and my feet ended up getting soaked, but it was still a great time.

Some pics from my hike on Sunday.

That's all for this week! Sorry for the sparse pictures this week, it wasn't super eventful so I kinda forgot to document stuff, but hopefully the coming weeks are more interesting.

Sam Adler

Materials Science and Engineering

University College Dublin

#UMichEnginAbroad #IPEUCD #SamAdler #IPEWinter2023 #Ireland #Dublin

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doingthedirtydishes · 2 years ago

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Dublin, Ireland: I visited, had tons of craic, and immense fun – I’m addicted.

As with most times I travel, I make sure to take advantage of national airlines and their home hub cities. My flight was destined for Amsterdam, Holland but I wished to visit Ireland on my way. So I decided to fly Aer Lingus from PHL to AMS, knowing they would first fly to Dublin for a stopover, require a plane swap, and then depart to mainland Europe. Well, one can choose to continue on at the stopover city, paying only country taxes to exit airport; thus getting two trips in one. Each country has a limit as to how many days you can remain there, and so it pays to check first. I had not arrived in Ireland yet and could already tell this country was going to be imbued with enjoyment. The flight was filled with craic.

Dublin was already having an effect on me and I had not even departed the airport. The feeling in the air was quaint and charming, just like the Irish people. There is no subway or underground transportation system in Dublin, so coach is the best option for public transport. Uber is not allowed to operate in Ireland. The best bus service, Airlink, an express coach with the fewest stops, departs the airport every 15-20 minutes – so it is never a long wait to get to center of town. They are handicap accessible. The buses end up at Busaras Central Station before heading off to O’Connell Street in city centre, finally ending up at Heuston, one of Dublin’s main train stations. I opted for a taxi. It was time to get my green groove on!

The distance from the airport to my hotel, located in Smithfield section, was approximately 12km. The bus fare was 7 Euro single, 12 Euro return – and a taxi, door-to-door, was between 25-30 Euro. Every taxi company is metered by law but also has other differences that can affect each individual fare. Do your homework beforehand. Being new to this city I opted to take a taxi ride, knowing this would also afford me a common gem of past globetrotting journeys: no one knows a city and its secrets better than taxi drivers. They tend to be a salty group; replete with enough stories to turns one’s head, in or out. As it would happen with my luck, my driver, Seammus McCafferty, was of the extremely colorful sort.

Taxi service paid, his business card with cellular phone contact in hand, convenient for future excitement and adventure reference, it was time to see what another Generator Hostel and new city had in store for me to boot. As humans we tend to be creatures of habit – as well, having traveled all over the planet – I have learned a few tricks here or there. One invaluable lesson for travel and also life: When you find something that works, do not make any unnecessary changes – no need to reinvent the wheel. I had stayed at many Generator Hostels throughout Europe in the past and they always served me and my injury needs adequately. The bar was set high for this location (pun intended).

Upon entering the hostel I was taken aback by how stylish it was. It looked very elegantly fashionable, very chic – my kind of place. There was a refined unassuming contemporary counter for check-in, plush chairs abound to relax and view any street walkers-by, with an eclectic and trendy colorful bar and restaurant in the background, with a Jameson bottle chandelier as the centerpiece. To the far right corner, with a clear view of the drunken shenanigans taking place at the bar, sat a beautiful pool table. To the back left was a veranda with sitting area for live entertainment and additional tables for more hobnobbing with newly made friends. The hostel was clearly setup to induce traveler interaction.

After getting my room sussed out, I decided to explore the hostel further. I reserved a dormitory style room that slept twelve, although when I arrived I only saw four other bodies – all fast asleep at 15:00. I had a short distance to wheel over thick carpet but once out of my floor wing the floors were smooth. There was a dedicated handicapped toilet and sink room, but most times it was occupied by someone too lazy to walk the extra two meters to the common room. The showers were in a separate space. Both areas were very large, with enough sinks and showers to clean a small army. There was also a dedicated shower stall for those needing assistance, including a bench and low water controls. Splendid!

It was time for an obligatory pint of Guinness. As the saying goes, when in Rome…. I headed to the bar and was immediately met with a set of stairs. Two meters to the left was a dedicated lift to bring me down one level. I picked a table, ordered a pint, and within minutes was talking with some fellow voyagers. Sean Kennedy from Ottawa, Canada was the first, followed by Erika from Rotterdam, Holland, and then came Jacob from Perth, Australia. Did I say just one Guinness? Oops, a Catholic white lie. A few beers later, minding our “Ps” and “Qs,” the group comfortable with one another, travel stories and laughter only increased round after round. We all decided to meet for breakfast the next morning.

For some odd reason no one made it to breakfast the next morning – must have been the Dubliner air. I enjoyed a delicious traditional Irish breakfast: eggs, bacon, mushrooms, baked beans and grilled tomatoes. Stomach overly filled, I decided to venture out and take my chances seeing the city on one of the many hop-on-hop-off bus tours. I chose the red line as they had a pickup only 30 meters from the hostel entrance. The bus pulled up, a foldable pull-out ramp appeared, I rolled on, paid my 20 Euro fare (unlimited rides for 48 hours), and off we went. Though it is a great bargain, as you get to see most the city’s best sites, it is only for the strong and fit – even with breaks on, the chair was thrown all over.

Being an exceptionally seasoned world traveler, having lived all over the planet for almost a decade of my life, international travel mostly comes easily to me – even the constant hiccups and curveballs the world throws my way are met head-on, and overcome with grace and laughter. No doubt travelling in a wheelchair is a much different experience, though mostly logistical, hence my injured traveler blog. But there is another element to what I do, one that requires that my wheelchair and its parts are all in the best possible working order. I am forever indebted to the people at NuMotion Mobility Company, especially Gary Gilberti and his amazing crew at my local office, including Christie, Jim and John.

By the time I returned to the hostel, sea-sick and bruised, the rest of the crew was already at the bar, and many pints ahead of me. By this juncture, a French doctor, Pierre, and Wouter, a quiet and witty Dutchman, had joined the bouquet – making for quite the assorted international motley bunch. We decided to go out for dinner that evening – Kennedy had heard the food at Kingfisher’s was the best in town. It was agreed the four of us would meet at 19:00 and taxi to O’Connell section of town. All taxi drivers, with one honorable mention later, were more than happy to get out and assist with the wheelchair breakdown and storage. I had the classic dish: fish-n-chips. It was amazing. Legendary!

By this time I had already made friends with the bartender, Milo, from Greenland – a country of 56,170 people – a fjord-lined Danish territory. All the staff was very friendly. As stated in my book, Unbreakable Mind, one must participate in life by Doing The Dirty Dishes: If meeting new friends or socializing with strangers is an issue, go where others are seeking the same: new friends and experiences. You are guaranteed both if you stay at a hostel. I choose to stay at Generator Hostels when in Europe because even though they are the cost of a cheap hotel, they have better clientele. I have never once placed a lock on my storage bin. If in need of purple underwear – please, by all means!

The next few days friends went various directions and so I decided to venture out into the city where ‘streets have names’ alone. The walkways and sidewalks upon first inspection looked smooth, until in the chair wheeling around town – they surely gave my kidneys a workout. There are curb ramps but definitely careful attention to detail must be paid if one wants to stay in the chair. Drivers are not so quick to slam on their brakes for you when crossing the road. Also, Luas, the tram/light rail system, which began operating in 2004, extends throughout the city with Red and Green lines, thus providing many places for your caster wheels to get stuck, or dumped by not wheeling over the bumps properly.

That next morning I was up early so I could visit St. Stephens Green, a historic park and great inner-city escape with 15 statues and memorials of famous figures and events, a favorite of James Joyce. Soon after, I found myself at the Guinness Storehouse, Ireland’s most famous beer, with a guided tour that ended on a rooftop bar with free tastings. Best to reserve a ticket online as the queue can be a bit long. Just around the corner from the St. James Gate Brewery is the 200 year old Jameson Distillery Bow Street, the world renowned home to Irish Whiskey – even though Jameson was in fact a Scottish lawyer. Needless to say after such a day, finding stable ground key – the chair was wobbly for some odd reason.

The following day I decided to bugger off to Dublin Castle and St. Patrick’s Cathedral, just a short distance from Smithfield, the district where my hostel was located. The castle, former seat of the British government’s administration in Ireland, played a lead role in the Easter Rising of 1916. It helped set the stage for the Irish War of Independence, fought from 1919 to 1921, between the Irish Republican Army and British forces. It had a small incline and some cobblestones about but was surprisingly easy to navigate in a wheelchair. The Cathedral’s layout was expansive, including long verdant lawns and brick pavers, thus making for a smooth visit. Both buildings, heavily steeped in history, will leave you in awe.

My second to final day a few of us decided to visit the Dublin Zoo. Kennedy and Wouter rounded out a threesome – our troop was complete. Before we even had a chance to observe the local animals, we had one of own for a taxi driver. We had inadvertently stepped into the wrong taxi and the driver, quite rattled and angry, Patrick Donegal, of Belfast, continued slagging us incessantly. He kept repeating in a deep Ulster accent, “You don’t understand!” It made for some fun local taking the piss before we were on our way to be accosted by apes and monkeys – two mainstays of the zoo, located in Phoenix Park, with 707 hectares of land, making it one of Europe’s largest parks. It was a roaring day. Classic!

My last night in Dublin I decided to head out to the famous party zone of Dublin’s Temple Bar District with some of my new friends. We all had flights out of Ireland the next day. They all headed home and were asleep by midnight. But to me, that is just when the rapture began. Four hours later, a few locally sourced prescribed pints of Guinness down the gullet, it was time to find my way home to sleep before catching my 07:00 flight. Dublin is so rich in history, cultural delight and overall fun, with so much to see and on such a short visit, no doubt I will return to the Emerald Isle for another dose of some additional Ol, Craic Agus Ceol. You left me wanting more; I shall return, old friend. Slán leat – Céad mile fáilte!

Travel Blog: Click here.

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#steven quigley writer #steven quigley blogger #doingthedirtydishespodcast #steven quigley #stevenquigleyauthor #stevenquigley #doingthedirtydishes.com #doingthedirtydishesspiritual #doingthedirtydishestravel #doingthedirtydishes #unbreakable mind #unbreakable mind book

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ecce-felix · 2 years ago

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So this is just plain wrong. I searched the tag anti mor and went scrolling because i know it's wrong. Bear with me bc I’m going at least ten posts deep to make my point why mor stans are as whiny as their fave, why disliking mor is not misogyny just because a couple people have mentioned azriel or eris in their critiques of her, & why OP needs to learn tagging etiquette bc they tagged this pro nesta when it's complaining that her fans hate mor for misogynistic reasons. i'm on bed rest for the rest of may so i absolutely have the time to prove this point lol.

First three posts we get. First is the start to an excellent azriel x nesta fanfiction where nesta calls mor out for being the hypocritical jealous cunt she is (like really where does she get off criticizing nesta's alcoholism when she cant get thru any meal without an entire bottle of wine) and then gets into a relationship with azriel, highly recommend it's definitely top five nesta fanfics for me. Middle post is critiquing the inner circle and feyre in general, mor really isn't mentioned but she's in the inner circle. oh and the third one is, as i have said, detailing that no, we do not hate her because of the messy situations with azriel or eris. Wild.

Next three. First is again an overall post about how the inner circle sucks ass (love to see it) specifically because they don't actually do anything to help women in not one but TWO regions under their command that are brutalized constantly. This is relevant to Mor because she decided to wag her tongue at Nesta about how Nesta is just as bad as the CoN when she herself only deigns to go there to embarrass keir and not do anything helpful with her extreme TrUtH power (yes rhys handled letting them into velaris wrong & was shitty to her, but she's still a hypocrite lmao) middle post does mention azriel, but not to say she's shitty for leading him on or whatever, it's to mention how bad he is at his job that he hasnt figured out she's gay by now. There's one bullet point about the eris situation but it's not misogynistic to say there are things we don't know abt that day that mor hasn't clarified lol. Also mentions her weird creepy dynamic with cassian & how it's never addressed & makes nessian weaker bc cassian is obssesed w her & she's jealous of nesta with him. third post is again about the IC being terrible at their jobs, specifically with mor it points out yet again she's a terrible ambassador to the CoN (it's not shitty to say she shouldn't be ambassador if she can't function around her father). No misogyny to be seen here.

Oh love this next post! My entire reason i hated Mor from ACOWAR onward (i was neutral on her in MAF) and one of the many reasons i fucking hate rhys. These two god like warrior magic users sit on their asses and DO NOTHING while keir goes off to brutalize yet another female, but sure mor take credit for helping whoever can escape them ('helping' as in taking them to the library so the priestesses can help them). Second post is a lament about how sjm is too far up rhys' ass to discuss any of her far more interesting characters not sure why its tagged anti mor but i digress. Third is about how the IC act like Nesta walked into one of their five houses and shot their dog in the head and smeared its blood all over the floor john wick style. 'Morrigan get over yourself' had me cackling for several minutes when i saw that post for the first time it's good craic.

Next three! (Have to edit them to make them line up nicely in one photo bc desktop search on tumblr gets wonky more you scroll). First post goes deeper about the sheer hypocrisy & lack of action mor has taken in over FOUR HUNDRED YEARS to help the CoN (tbf the blame for this lays on the entire IC, as far as im concerned theyre all lazy and incompetent). Second brings up how fucking creepy mor was to nesta at dinner and how she grabbed at a woman who just had her bodily autonomy ripped from her in a brutally traumatic manner like she doesnt understand female trauma survivors at all, and then how misogynistic it is for mor to call her lazy & abusive just because nesta wont swing a sword around in front of males who hate her (that's bc sjm seems to think female empowerment is them becoming warriors) Third brings up how feyre fell to the wayside when the Cult of Rhysand was introduced and how mor/amren are shitty female friends to her. Twelve posts in and have yet to see these misogynists that are apparently prevalent in the anti mor tag!

i am not a liar so here is one (1) post that says mor needs to 'man up and tell azriel shes not into him' so aye there is one. out of TWELVE. the twelve most popular posts, too. it has far less notes than the others as well. I'm not entirely convinced it's misogyny to point out that they are centuries old and it's weird that no one has stepped in to make azriel back off or that they haven't cleared the air but that's more a critique on the IC.

another post that made me cackle because of how accurate it is, Mor is absolutely sjm's mary sue self insert for acotar. honestly surprising she made her a lesbian and i hate that she and emerie will get together bc emerie deserves better but i digress. Another two posts about how the IC/Mor mistreated nesta and feyre.

I think you're getting the jist after sixteen posts, only one of which blames mor for the dynamic she has with azriel/eris. I even scrolled a bit farther and still found nothing. those '''very very common''' misogynistic arguments do not exist on tumblr, and if they do, they are not very popular.

And finally, most importantly, if the post is not pro nesta, which this post is not (it's actually having a go at her fans for our opinions on mor), DO NOT TAG IT AS SUCH. it is rude and bad etiquette and i know most of the people who track that tag like myself don't wanna see your whining abt a character we dislike.

some sjm fans and antis will write full essays on how much nesta was wronged and how much elain was wronged and how anti feminist the entire book series is and then go “but mor is a lying BITCH did you hear ERIS saying that she was a LIAR that means she’s a LYING BITCH” and then not see the irony

#no one likes a high functioning alcoholic who pretends she's better than other alcoholics mor #like why tag this pro nesta instead of saying 'i like nesta this isnt hate on nesta' in the tags such a weird choice #long post #no but *im* the one who's drawing conclusions apparently lmao.

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years ago

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@craic-specialist said Listen, my craving for demonic cultivation bamf Qiren is ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

And they were right.

Nocturne in D Minor - ao3

(series: Variations on WWX & LQR in Assorted Keys)

“It’s up to you,” Lan Qiren said to his brother, who he hadn’t spoken to in years – not since Lan Wangji had gotten old enough to pay his respects without assistance. “You don’t have to do it; it is not something I would force anyone into, not in a million years. But I will be doing it, and I can’t help them both by myself. I need you.”

Qingheng-jun stared off into the distance, his eyes blank and vacant.

“We’ll die,” he finally said.

“Probably,” Lan Qiren said, because it was true. “I would even say that it is more likely than not. But…they’re your sons. Your legacy.”

That made his brother finally shift his attention to him. Lan Qiren wasn’t sure if it was the appeal to the connection they had, the fact that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji were the only things his brother had left of his wife, or merely the appeal to his vanity, the thought of what he would leave behind in the world – he who had been so promising and so praised and yet accomplished so little, all through the consequences of his own decisions.

Still, it didn’t matter to Lan Qiren why his brother agreed to do it, only that he would do it. Lan Qiren wouldn’t, couldn’t, force a decision of this magnitude, but that didn’t mean he didn’t believe wholeheartedly that it was the right thing to do.

The only thing to do.

“How would you accomplish it?” his brother finally asked, and Lan Qiren couldn’t help but exhale in shaky relief, the fear that had been consuming him finally given vent – he’d agreed, then. He’d do it.

His brother had finally, finally, at the end of all things, lived up to Lan Qiren’s expectations.

“There was a promising medical paper presented in one of the discussion conferences,” he said, deciding to omit the fact that the author of the paper was a Wen, and a young woman, and that he hadn’t even asked her to do it as of yet. They could deal with that after they dealt with the more immediate problem. “It raised the suggestion that a golden core could be transferrable from one individual to another, particularly if the donor and recipient both cultivated in a similar tradition – it was a throwaway reference only, but having reviewed the evidence I believe it is possible, especially if the donation is given voluntarily.”

He also omitted to mention that such a donation could only be done with someone of exceptionally strong cultivation, as no one else would be able to endure the agony necessary to persist, awake and focused, through the entire lengthy surgical process. There was no need to mention the obvious.

“Wholly untested, then.”

“Of course it’s untested,” Lan Qiren snapped. “Who in their right minds would agree to donate their golden core, of which any person can only have the one in their lifetime, in any circumstances but the most dire? My nephews, your sons, are lying in some rotten hut in the middle of the woods, comatose and unaware – and I was the one to put them in that state myself, all so that they don’t wake up in time to realize that their golden cores, their futures, have been destroyed. I want them to wake to a world where that isn’t the case.”

“Even if we do what you suggest,” his brother said, “the world they wake into will be one where the sect they would have inherited has already been destroyed.”

“You cannot say that our sect has been destroyed as long as it has people to continue it,” Lan Qiren disagreed. “If they are restored, our sect lives on…it’s not just their futures at stake here. It’s all of ours – you, me, our ancestors, everything that was put to flame and sword by the Wen sect.”

The attack on the Cloud Recesses hadn’t been a warning the way it had been when the Jiang sect was burned, their sect leader and his wife gravely injured, both heir and head disciple captured and brought to the Nightless City while the daughter had fled with their sect treasures. No, the Jiang had been able to start rebuilding despite that, and that meant that the Wen had learned their lesson. The attack on the Cloud Recesses had been comprehensive, complete; it had been a deliberate extermination aimed at eradicating their entire way of life. If Lan Qiren hadn’t learned from the lesson of the Jiang sect and, in secret rebellion against his own sect elders who insisted that there was no danger, sent away many of their junior generation into hiding along with the contents of their library, they would have nothing left.

But it was all for nothing if Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji didn’t make it. If they lost their cores or died, that spelled the end of the main family line of their sect. Sure, a cousin could take over, one that shared their surname, and they could keep up the traditions Lan Qiren had so painstakingly preserved, but it still wouldn’t be the same.

In the face of that…

In the face of that, what use was a golden core to Lan Qiren, who was unmarried and likely to remain that way for the rest of his life, or to Qingheng-jun, who would never again remarry? They had both put everything they had, all their hopes and dreams and future, onto the children that Lan Qiren had raised on his brother’s behalf. They had given them everything. What was one more thing next to that?

It was only…

“Is it really worth it?” Qingheng-jun asked. “Our lives for theirs – that I could agree to, and readily, too. But to give our lives, our cultivation, for just the possibility of success…I’m not sure about that.”

Lan Qiren put his hands behind his back to hide how they were clenched into tight fists, the knuckles white. He had only one golden core to give. If his brother didn’t agree, he would have to pick which of his nephews would wake up whole, and which one crippled.

He would have to pick.

“Please, xiongzhang,” he breathed. He couldn’t force his brother to do anything he didn’t want to do. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t, and anyway it would be pointless. He’d never before swayed his brother’s decisions on anything, not once in his life. But he still had to ask. “Please.”

A long moment of silence.

An eternity.

And then –

“All right,” Qingheng-jun finally said. “All right. Let’s do it before they wake.”

“The Lan sect is doing remarkably well, all things considered – Zewu-jun and Hanguang-jun are among the most impressive generals in the Sunshot Campaign, even with the disadvantage of having to revive their sect from having lost almost everything. They don’t call them the Twin Jades for nothing!”

“No, to be sure, the way they’ve carried on in the face of such tragedy is impressive. After the massacre at the Cloud Recesses, with such heavy losses…”

“Mm, indeed. I heard that they fled along with their father and uncle, carrying with them the most sacred of their sect books – of course they were undoubtedly doing most of the work there. I heard their father died of the injuries he’d incurred before they ever woke, and their uncle was in a similarly terrible state.”

“Teacher Lan? Oh, it’s so sad, what happened with him…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the Wen sect was chasing them down, of course. I heard he sacrificed himself to distract the pursuers from his nephews to ensure their escape, knowing that in his injured capacity he would only act as a burden slowing them down, and Wen Chao was so angry at missing his chance at the Twin Jades that he threw him into the Burial Mounds!”

“No! That’s terrible!”

“Now, fellow cultivator, I don’t know if that’s true – I heard that Teacher Lan was seen in the Lan sect camp as recently as half a month ago. How could he be there if he got thrown into a place as vile as the Burial Mounds…? You shouldn’t spread rumors.”

“Who are you to talk about rumors?! You’re the one talking about terrible curses, corpses rising to fight in battle, and other such atrocities…”

“Those aren’t rumors, I saw them with my own eyes! Fierce corpses, vicious, murderous, seething with resentful energy. And they weren’t fighting just anyone, they were fighting the Wen sect only – someone was controlling them.”

“Are you suggesting that there’s, what, some sort of demonic cultivator out there supporting the Lan sect? Ridiculous.”

“No, I’ve heard it too! I’ve heard that they play a phantom guqin, the tones of it echoing in the night. They say that this demonic cultivator acts as the blackened shadow of the regular sect, and no one knows who it really is – they keep themselves back, hiding in the dark like an assassin, and heavily cloak themselves whenever they need to go out onto the battlefield…”

“Now that’s ridiculous. Whoever heard of a demonic cultivator trying to hide what they’re doing? Aren’t they all arrogant and self-centered, reckless, unbearably bloodthirsty?”

“Not this one, apparently…”

“Well, demonic cultivator or not, as long as they’re killing strictly Wen-dogs, what do I care? The sooner we bring down the sun, the better. Best of luck to them, that’s what I say!”

“I’ll drink to that!”

“Wait,” Wei Wuxian said, goggling at Jin Guangshan and not caring one bit that he was being incredibly rude by interrupting the other man’s announcement, nor the fact that he was implicitly challenging Jin Guangshan on his own home territory, being as virtually the entire cultivation world had returned to Lanling City for the feasting following the Phoenix Mountain hunt. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry, are you trying to tell me that you think Teacher Lan – and just to make sure we’re being precise here, we’re talking about rule-abiding, rigid, stubborn, boring old nerd Lan Qiren, the one who used to lecture me all the time about even thinking about something unorthodox – is the Lan sect’s secret demonic cultivator?!”

Everyone acknowledged by now that they had one, of course.

It was impossible not to, even though the demonic cultivator had started out in a very limited, one might even say surprisingly restrained, fashion, restricting themselves to only doing things in defense of the Lan sect’s back line – and then eventually their front line, but still largely in a defensive posture, and almost exclusively using corpses of unknown antiquity. It wasn’t until later, when things had gotten more desperate, that they’d started being more aggressive, using the corpses as offensive weapons, resurrecting the fallen soldiers of the Wen sect against their own friends and allies…it was clear that they tried whenever possible to remain scrupulous about not using their own people, not just Lan but anyone on their side in the Sunshot Campaign, but it was also equally clear that demonic cultivation was an imprecise art, and sometimes they couldn’t help it.

Wei Wuxian had been crazily curious to meet this demonic cultivator more or less from the very first moment he’d heard of him.

Everyone knew the Lan sect was associated with them and that meant they of course knew who it was – if nothing else, the Lan sect’s strict practice of taking time to play soul-calming melodies and other songs of liberation following any incident of demonic cultivation use had made that clear, though it had also helped reduce the criticisms of the practice – and yet Lan Wangji, no matter how close he and Wei Wuxian had gotten during the war, still refused to say.

Though…Wei Wuxian supposed he understood why, if the demonic cultivator was in fact Lan Qiren.

That would, however, require the demonic cultivator to be Lan Qiren.

“Putting that aside,” Nie Mingjue said, frowning severely even as the rest of them gawked, “what’s this nonsense about him suddenly and for no reason killing your sect disciples and kidnapping the remaining Wen sect members?”

“It’s not nonsense,” Jin Guangshan said. “It’s true. There are witnesses.”

“The only part that’s nonsense is the suggestion that he would do so without a reason,” Nie Mingjue said impatiently. “This is Teacher Lan we’re talking about!”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

He wasn’t the only one in the hall nodding, either.

“Anyway, even if Teacher Lan really were to turn to murder, he wouldn’t have left witnesses,” Jiang Cheng added, wrinkling his nose. “Be thorough in all that you do, do not be haughty or complacent. Do you know how many times I had to redo my homework before he accepted it? And you’re expecting me to believe, what, that he’d be sloppy about it or something? Teacher Lan? I can’t believe it.”

Even more nods around the room, especially fervent among the younger generation that had attended Lan Qiren’s classes.

Jin Guangshan scowled, having clearly expected a bit more deference to his explanation.

“This is easily solved,” he said testily. “Is it not one of the Lan sect rules not to lie? I put to Zewu-jun and Hanguang-jun – is your uncle a demonic cultivator or not?!”

Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji exchanged glances.

Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shot up. No way…

“Shufu has always sought to act in a moral and upright manner, no matter the cultivation path he uses,” Lan Wangji said, his voice flat, and the room exploded into whispers. “A path that he has only chosen due to what happened during the course of the war, when our ability was at its least and our desperation its greatest, and which he strongly advises others against under any normal circumstances.”

Lan Qiren is a demonic cultivator, Wei Wuxian marveled, and then promptly got annoyed: And Lan Zhan didn’t tell me?! I had so many ideas I wanted to pass along and converse about! It’s unfair!

“I concur with Wangji,” Lan Xichen said. “I believe in my shufu’s wisdom and restraint. If he took the Wen sect remnants unexpectedly and by force, I am certain he had a good reason for his actions. We will pursue this matter…”

“You will do no such thing,” Jin Guangshan thundered, cutting him off, and Lan Xichen looked taken aback by the unexpected rudeness. “The culprit is your kin and your senior, and everyone knows how the Lan sect honor their elders. How can we trust that you will impose justice in a fair and equitable fashion?”

Lan Xichen looked offended now, and rightfully he should be – Nie Mingjue certainly looked almost apoplectic on his behalf – but Wei Wuxian could see a fair number of heads nodding in the crowd. The Lan sect was known for its devotion to justice, that was true, but this was the sect leader’s uncle, who had very nearly sacrificed his life for them during the war. Even if Lan Qiren really had committed a crime, how could Lan Xichen of all people bear to hold him responsible for it? To do so would be to be unfilial, to fail to do so unjust – he was in a really tough position. He’d look bad no matter what way he picked.

That was probably what Jin Guangshan intended, actually.

Wei Wuxian elbowed Jiang Cheng, getting his attention, and whispered furiously into his ear.

A moment later, Jiang Cheng loudly cleared his throat and stepped forward. “This is easily solved,” he said, letting his voice carry. He’d really grown into the role of sect leader over the course of the war, ever since his parents had been forced to resign from the battlefield on account of their injuries. “Teacher Lan is famous for being thoughtful and proper in his conduct, as well as eloquent in his words – if there is an explanation to be had, surely he would be able to provide it. Why don’t we all go to wherever he has gone and ask to hear that explanation?”

Jin Guangshan didn’t like that, Wei Wuxian could tell from his expression, but there wasn’t anything for it – the momentum was with them, with Lan Xichen immediately agreeing, saying that his uncle would undoubtedly welcome being examined by his peers in the cultivation world, and Nie Mingjue adding his own (very loud) voice in support of the idea. All the others in the hall were also nodding and talking along, and the overarching tone was that of curiosity, mixed with a little bit of scandalized amusement, but not rage.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Lan Wangji said, appearing at Wei Wuxian’s side. Wei Wuxian had no idea how he’d even had the attention to spare to notice what Wei Wuxian had done.

“Think nothing of it, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, then nudged him a bit with his elbow. “Just tell me you passed on some of my better ideas to your uncle during the war, will you? Even if you didn’t, haha, I would still like to flatter myself…I still want to talk to him about it, you know. Some of the melodies he uses are so interesting!”

“You are likely the only one who takes such a circumspect opinion of my uncle’s practice, for which I thank you, but I would recommend once again against too much enthusiasm for the subject,” Lan Wangji said, voice heavy. “Demonic cultivation is a disfavored path for a reason, and though my uncle has sought whenever possible to minimize the effects on the temperament and the negative consequences, it is difficult.”

“Why does he do it, then?” Wei Wuxian asked, genuinely curious, and was surprised by the expression of genuine pain that passed over Lan Wangji’s features. “Lan Zhan?”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” Lan Wangji admitted quietly, his voice so soft that Wei Wuxian could barely hear it. “He sacrificed his orthodoxy for my brother and I, yet the injuries he incurred, whether there or – or later – are quite dire. He is not so young as we are; without some form of cultivation, any form, he will more than likely die. And the war…”

“I understand,” Wei Wuxian said. They’d come so close to losing Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan – he’d never gotten on with Yu Ziyuan, the two of them always butting heads, but they’d fought side by side against the Wen sect. The thought of something happening to her still made him see red; he couldn’t even imagine how it must be for Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, who had always been close to their uncle, who had raised them all on his own, and then sacrificed himself to save them, being tortured and thrown into the Burial Mounds…no, it was all quite clear to Wei Wuxian what happened. Better demonic cultivation than nothing, that was to be sure, and Lan Qiren really had been absolutely invaluable during the war. Without him, the Lan sect might have perished. “And the Wen sect remnants? Any idea why he took them?”

“I do not know. But I trust my shufu.”

“Oh, certainly. I’m sure Teacher Lan has a good explanation,” Wei Wuxian said confidently. “We just need to hear it.”

“Thank you for taking the time to seek me out,” Lan Qiren said to the ravening mob currently being held immobilized at the bottom of the Burial Mounds. Technically they had come to listen to him, as the quick and frantic secret letters he’d received from his nephews, Nie Mingjue, and Jiang Cheng had all said, but someone had clearly been inciting them on the way, and they’d been all but ready to lay siege by the time they’d actually gotten here.

He was choosing to ignore that.

“While I have your attention,” he said, “and before we get to the question of the disposition of the Wen sect remnants, I was hoping to take a few moments to dispel a few unsubstantiated myths regarding the use of resentful energy and of my particular brand of demonic cultivation in general.”

They were staring at him.

Good.

“Now,” he said, and gestured for Wen Ning to unfurl the large scroll he’d prepared in advance. There were several, but Wen Ning had enthusiastically agreed to hold them up in sequence for him. “I’ve put together a presentation. If you’ll please pay attention to the board…”

Somewhere in the audience, he thought he could hear Wei Wuxian laughing.

“I don’t know what the rest of you were expecting, but this is completely what I expected,” Wei Wuxian said gleefully. “I told you he was a nerd!”

“Please desist from referring to me that way,” Lan Qiren said censoriously. “Immediately, if you please.”

“Oh, can’t you lighten up?” Wei Wuxian complained, absently looping an arm over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “We’re celebrating a glorious victory today! You got absolved, Jin Guangshan’s face got dragged into the mud, Wen Ning – who’s great, by the way, I can’t believe I nearly forgot that we became friends back in the Nightless City – Wen Ning and his family are in a safe place now…now can we talk about how you’ve gotten demonic cultivation to work the way you have?”

“I don’t think you can call anyone else a nerd,” Jiang Cheng commented, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been loudly calling for an academic conference on the subject since you first heard about it.”

“Well, yeah, but still…”

“Probably for the best it wasn’t Wei-xiong that figured it out first,” Nie Huaisang opined. “I mean, just think about how that would have gone, it’d have been terrible!”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A fascinating exploration of the importance of tone in presentation,” the newly dubbed Jin Guangyao murmured. He’d only been invited to the victory party on account of his sworn brotherhood with Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, but he seemed somewhat relieved to be there – probably grateful to be anywhere but back at home where Jin Guangshan was no doubt raging over his failure to turn the cultivation world against the Lan.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wei Wuxian complained. “What’s wrong with me being a demonic cultivator? I’m brilliant, charismatic…”

“Arrogant, reckless, and used to suffering no real consequences to your actions,” Nie Mingjue put in, voice dry, and there were nods all around. “You don’t know how to back down, and that would make people fear you.”

“Whereas no one fears shufu,” Lan Xichen agreed, nodding, and then blinked when everyone in the room gave him looks. “What?”

“Everyone’s afraid of Teacher Lan,” Jiang Cheng said. “Just, you know, not…afraid afraid. You know?”

Everyone except Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji nodded. Lan Qiren looked long-suffering about it.

“It’s a good point, though,” Nie Huaisang said. “Teacher Lan is famous for his good conduct, but also there’s his manner: he thinks about everything he says before he says it, he rarely deviates from a monotone, and even when he gets really angry, and I mean really angry, he just gets red in the face and can’t actually verbalize anything. It’s really hard to think of him as someone who’s going to kill you, rather than someone who will…I don’t know…be disappointed in you.”

“Thank you,” Lan Qiren said. “I…think?”

Wei Wuxian huffed. “Well, putting that aside,” he said. “Can we talk about it? Jiang Cheng’s not wrong about me wanting an academic conference. Can we do that next discussion conference instead of a hunt? Phoenix Mountain was great and all, but, you know…”

“We live in interesting times,” Nie Mingjue declared, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, and raised his cup. “A toast!”

“Shufu,” Lan Wangji said. His hand was at his stomach, hovering lightly over his dantian. “Do you ever…regret?”

“Not once,” Lan Qiren said. He’d known he wouldn’t be able to keep the truth from his nephews forever. “Not for a single heartbeat. Your father and I knew what we were risking, what we were doing, what it might mean for us, and we made our choice with open eyes. I regret nothing.”

He paused.

“Though perhaps I slightly regret the headaches I’m going to have once you marry Wei Wuxian in and there will be nowhere left where I will be able to retreat to in order to avoid his endless pestering…”

#mdzs #lan qiren #wei wuxian #qingheng-jun #lan wangji #lan xichen #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #variations #truly the one failing of canon #is that LQR couldn't give a PowerPoint presentation #I've fixed that

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scatteredthoughts2 · 2 years ago

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An Muileann gCearr Go Bragh.

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

It was with a twinge of sadness,

I walked down town on Tuesday morning,

The cleaning up was underway,

And the volunteers were yawning.

There were happy shouts and greetings

That hid a silence so profound,

But if you listened carefully,

You'd still hear the music's sound.

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

I stood beside Joe Dolan,

In an empty Market Square,

And I asked him what he thought,

Of the crowds that gathered there.

He said, their music filled the streets;

The ghosts of this years Fleadh,

And every ghost was playing,

An Muileann gCearr Go Bragh.

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

The crowds are all gone home,

But their presence lingers still,

Their happy, smiling faces,

And their aura of goodwill.

The youngsters in the daytime;

How their music filled the air,

The craic, the songs and dancing,

Was a joy for all to share.

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

So stand up Muileann gCearr,

Stand up and take a bow,

You have made us all so proud,

You have showed the Nation how.

How to put on a performance,

How to welcome and to greet,

And made friends with every person,

That you met upon the street.

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

We had waited for so long,

For the Fleadh Cheoil to arrive

Yet how swiftly it did come,

And more swiftly it went by.

But we can all proud,

Of An Muileann gCearr Go Bragh,

And, please God, maybe next year,

We will have another Fleadh.

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

@Ambrose Harte

@Scattered Thoughts

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runveganwankerrun · 2 years ago

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Fri 18th Nov '22

Holy fucking cow! My blood pressure is through the fucking roof! I was not expecting that at all. I thought I'd wasted my place through my own laziness. I thought this year was my last chance to use my place. When I heard nothing, I reckoned I'd missed out. But it would seem not! So here's another fine mess I've got myself into! London marathon is exactly one week after Manchester. Manchester which I booked flights and hotel for last night. I could cancel the hotel, but the flights are locked in, unrefundable. First question: can I do a second marathon a week after a first? Second question: can I keep it a secret? I think the answer to the second one is a gimme. It's just an extra bit to add to the original secret. The training is already under wraps. All I have to do is keep schtum about an extra week.

As to the first question... it's nuts to think that I could do a second 42k in eight days! Fucking nuts! So why am I considering it? London is such an iconic marathon. It's the one that everyone really wants. It's the one that if people knew I could be wasting a place, they'd think I was crazy. It's a coveted place I've got. This year, nearly half a million people entered the public ballot for 17,000 places. I was one of them for fuck's sake! Me, with my foretting/not realising that I already had a place! This could be my only chance to have a place in this race without having had to have gone through the ballot.

TGG is, as usual, being my voice of reason. He's saying I don't need to do anything about it yet. I can think about it. I have a few weeks before anything needs to be booked. I'm sort of glad the email didn't arrive yesterday, coz now Manchester is a thing regardless of what I do about London. London is a bonus. Because I thought I'd lost my chance, the money for the entry was lost to me anyway. I think if I don't do it though, I'll always regret it. Oh God! Decisions!

I will have to tell Coach though. I will probably tell him in a few days, maybe a week and see what he says about how stupid it is to even think about it 😆

On the subject of telling people, I told Sonic today, while on our four mile run, that I was doing a training programme with Coach. I'm sort of sorry that I let it slip. I just said something about doing a few 5k runs for Coach and Sonic was straight on the info, and asked if I was doing a whole programme with him. I said it was just for base fitness at the moment. It's not a lie. So far, there's no speed work, no long runs and nothing marathon specific. I'll just continue to be vague in my conversations about training. I really do want to keep quiet.

Oh God! It's just hit me again! London marathon! So many of my club would be so fucking jealous. If I don't do it, they'll hate me! Well, not really, but sort of. 😄

Again, the run today was not easy. Fuck! I'm talking about 6.5k not being easy. Hello! Thinking about 84k in a week here! Right! I'm stopping thinking about that. (I'm really not, but I'm going to shut up about it. For now!)

As I was saying, it wasn't a doddle today. I think it's because I had company, and regardless of how easy we ran, I felt more pressure because I was running with someone else. That's totally on me. Sonic is fine with our pace. It was a wee bit colder today, first time in a while it hasn't been mild. It was also windy. The coast was cold. But that's nothing to how it will be in January and February, so I'd better get used to it.

I'm thinking of going for a run in the morning before parkrun, despite it not being on my program. I just want to enjoy a run with a podcast, on my own, at my own pace. There's the Sunday social run to come yet. Have I mentioned that? I can't remember. A few members of club, gathering at 9am on Sunday morning, hopefully all abilities so there'll be folks slow enough for me. I'm only intending to do 5 or 6k. If it's slow enough, I might just enjoy the craic. TGG is going too 🥰

Was there ever better motivation to eat properly than being shit scared about getting fit enough to meet my challenges? I don't think so. I have ZERO interest in over eating today after that email. So, it was good for something 🤣

#marathon #running #london marathon

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missscarletta7 · 3 years ago

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The Broken Crown- Chapter 2

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

Hello! Enjoy chapter 2!

OoOoOo

"Keep spendin' most our lives, Livin' in the gangsta's paradise,

Tell me why are we so blind to see,

That the ones we hurt, are you and me"

~Gangsters Paradise~

1919

"Mags." Was the first thing the young girl heard as she was gently shaken awake, "Go lay in your bed, eh?"

Upon half-opening her eyes, she saw it was Tommy who had been talking to her. Maggie only then realized she had fallen asleep sitting upright. She responded by rubbing her neck and slowly nodding. Clumsily she got off the bed with her journal in hand.

It was early. The exact time she wasn't sure, but sunlight wasn't streaming through the window yet. She entered the quiet hallway, navigating herself to her bedroom in the darkness. When she opened her door, she discovered a figure standing in the middle of the half-lit room changing clothes.

"There you are," Ada whispered out, shimming out of her slip, "Was wondering what happened to you."

"Slept in Tommy's room," She explained, yawning lightly. "Just get in? What time is it?"

Her sister nodded as she continued to change into a nightdress, slipping the fabric over her head. "It's just past four." She informed as the younger girl motioned her way around her sister to flop onto the bed, making it creak from the force of body weight.

"How was your night?" asked Maggie, moving to make her head more comfortable on the old shapeless pillow.

"Romantic." The older girl hummed, sliding into bed next to her sister. "I've never felt this way about anyone."

Maggie turned her body on her side. "Wish I could put a name and face to this mystery man." She watched her sister's eyes flash with guilt. At the realization of her thoughts were now said aloud, regret formed in the pit of Maggie’s stomach.

"I promise I'll tell you sooner than you think, I just-" Ada didn't have to finish the sentence for Maggie to understand what she was going to say: 'I just can't deal with our brothers if they find out '.

"I know Ada," was the last thing the sleepy girl said before closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Eventually, she woke up again around seven in the morning. Carefully, she got out of bed trying not to wake up her sleeping sister, and dressed accordingly in one of Ada's old dresses. She also made sure to pack her journal into her book bag before making her way downstairs. Once in the kitchen, she saw Tommy reading the paper and Finn eating his breakfast.

"Morning." She said, grabbing a bowl and spoon to scoop mushy porridge out of a metal pot, which was sitting on top of the only working stove burner. Polly had most likely prepared it for them. "How did you sleep?"

Tommy knew that question was directed to him, "Better than I have in weeks." This made his sister smile as she sat down in the chair next to him. "Your writing has improved. But then again, I haven't heard you share your work since you were twelve. Pol says you won't even share with her or Ada. Why's that?" He was genuinely curious.

"I don't think it's ready to be shared yet," Maggie shrugged.

He peered at her as he set the paper down onto the table, "You shared last night."

"Only to put you to sleep." She countered, bringing the spoon to her mouth to consume the beige-colored substance.

"Going to have to sometime," he spoke sincerely. "How else are you going to become a writer, eh?"

He was right, she knew that, but right now, her writing felt sacred. As if her words were only meant for her. She was still coming face to face with a paradoxical problem. Every time she would write something down, it would instantly not be good enough. The pages of her journal seemed to have more scribbled-out lines than actual words. She just couldn't explain this feeling properly, and if she couldn't express her feelings in words, how could she write? No, sharing her words would only lead to not being understood. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the opening and slamming of the front door.

"Tommy!" John angrily stormed into the kitchen, "It's Danny! Those fucking Wops got a hit on him."

Tommy answered back by pushing himself out of his chair and hurriedly following his brother out of the home. Finn quickly tried to follow, but Maggie grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "Let go Mags!" he cried out.

Maggie sighed, "C'mon, let's get you ready for school." Finn could only respond with a groan, allowing his sister to lead him upstairs.

OoOoOo

The next day, a smiling Maggie was squished between John and Finn in the family car. She could barely move without hearing a complaint from John, but she didn't care, she was too excited. They were all on their way to the fair, which had been set up right outside of Birmingham. It had been so long since she had been to one. They were almost there, and she could see the big red and white striped tent peaking over the trees in the distance, so she was confused when Tommy parked the car in a clearing that was still a good distance away.

Arthur spoke up at once, "Thought you said we were going to the fair"

"Yeah, what are we doing?" She asked nervously, leaning her elbows against the front seat.

"We have business first. C'mon, bring your wits." Tommy said getting out of the car with John and Arthur following. He glanced over to his younger siblings noticing they were trying to do the same. " You and Finn stay by the car."

"Seriously?" She just wanted to have a normal day at the fair with her family. Was that too much to ask?

Tommy pointed at her to emphasize. "Stay by the car, Mags."

"What business?" Arthur questioned.

"That's the Lee family," She heard John say.

Great the Lees, thought Maggie sarcastically, as she sank into the seat. Though she did perk herself up when she saw a familiar face walking towards the car.

"Hi, Johnny!" She smiled and waved at the man.

"Well hello pretty lady," Johnny Dogs greeted as he approached the car. "Tell me, have you seen a lass named Maggie?" The teasing tone of his voice was prominent. He had not changed a bit in the four years his presence had been absent.

The girl giggled slightly at his antics, and with a playful air replied, "I'm Maggie."

"You canna be her." He overly acted out in disbelief, "Last time I saw her she was but a child!"

"Hang on a minute," They all heard Arthur say, "You're not swapping the family car for a bloody horse!"

Johnny turned around and quickly walked up to the oldest Shelby, "Of course we're not swapping it. Huh? That would be mad!"

"We're going to play two up," Tommy explained, handing a coin over to the family friend.

"Jesus." Arthur breathed out anxiously, as they all watched the pair toss their coins into the grass and lean forward to get a better view. Silently, Tommy handed over the keys to the car, much to the irritation of the eldest, "I knew it. Tommy, you bloody idiot!"

"Shut up Arthur. I won," Tommy told him, "I promised Johnny I'd let him have a spin in the car if he lost." He watched as the relief washed over his brother's face but was interrupted by collective snickering. He turned to the three men dangerously, "Are you Lee boys laughing at my brother? Are you? Eh? I asked you a question!"

"Tommy! Tommy, c'mon it's just a craic." Johnny reasoned, trying to keep everyone calm, "Get your family out of here and go enjoy yourselves at the fair before they start a war." Johnny then turned to the Lees, and Maggie was able to make out most of what he said. It had something to do about the grandfather she never met before one of the Lees replied, "Yeah, but his mother was a Diddicoy whore."

That had done it. Whipping his weaponized hat off of his head, Tommy slashed at the man's face. Arthur and John quickly joined in. Blood could be seen gushing from their faces as they all yelled obscenities at one another. Finn looked in awe at his brothers, his gaze never wavering from the fight, but Maggie felt sick.

OoOoOo

An hour later they had finally reached their original destination. Looking and walking around the fair was an amazing experience. The many rides, animals, oddities, and food all in one place were a wonderment to the many families that came out from all over the area. Yet, Maggie's level of enthusiasm was less than what Tommy had expected. She couldn't shut up most of the way there, now she was as silent as a stone.

"What's the matter with you, eh?" Tommy questioned as they walked around the fairgrounds together, "Did you want to take a spin on the big wheel ride?" He pointed up to the giant machine with carriages that slowly spun in circles.

She asked quietly, "Did you have to hurt them?" Sure, Maggie knew what her brothers did. She would be naive if she said she didn't, but she had never been a witness to it. The violence that she had often heard others speak of was now forever ingrained in her memory, becoming a standard for their future offenses. "The Lee's." She clarified although she was certain he knew what she was talking about.

"They were disrespecting us Mags," He explained as if she were younger than Finn. "You heard them."

Tommy had always tried to keep her in the dark about their business practices, which was easy when she was younger. Unlike Finn, she had always kept her nose in a book, never really paying attention to the transgressions of her siblings. But now she was beginning to notice and was starting to ask questions he'd rather not answer.

"You couldn't walk away?" Maggie inquired, looking towards anywhere but his face.

He remained silent for a moment before stiffly asking, "Do you want to get on the fucking wheel ride or not?" That was Tommy-ese for 'drop it', so she did, and added herself to the growing line. Tommy followed her lead, standing behind her he pulled a cigarette out to smoke as they waited.

Maggie was quiet the entire duration of the drive back home. The setting sun rays peeked through the gray smog as they entered Small Heath, they all noticed the place had been trashed. Broken and ripped furniture looked like they were just tossed in the streets and all those who watched the Shelby car roll slowly down the street managed to give them all a dirty look.

Arthur was the first to speak up, "Now, what the bloody hells been going on here?"

OoOoOo

Apparently, from what she gathered it had been the new copper that had been behind the trashing of their neighborhood. Maggie and Cara walked through the crowd, as they recounted the events of each other's day. Thankfully the Ryans dress shop had been spared from the destruction and Maggie told her friend everything about the fair, excluding the violent beginning of course. In front of them stood a pile of portraits that had been gathered from around all the homes and businesses of the community. Once they were lit on fire, familiar faces were lit up as well to contrast the darkness. They both soon saw Ross with a crowd of men, most likely coworkers from the BSA. Once he saw them, he waved them off and began moving toward the girls.

"Are you ever going to tell him?" Maggie asked her friend, as they watched the young man weaving his way through the crowd of people.

"I will!" Cara defended before adding, "Eventually." Maggie tried to hide her smile.

"All right ladies?" Ross greeted once he was near enough.

"So, what's all this about then?" Cara questioned somewhat flirtatiously, pointing at the heap of portraits.

"Ask Mags," Ross replied, sending the dark-haired girl a smirk, "It's her brothers that have organized all this, went 'round taking everyone's pictures."

"Oh right, because they run everything by me first." she joked, causing both her friends to chuckle. Cara soon took over in leading the conversation, but Maggie was only half paying attention. Curiously, she watched as Tommy spoke with a man that she had never seen before. He must have felt her gaze because he found her face in the crowd, causing Maggie to quickly divert her stare off her brother. Ross then pulled out a flask from a pocket inside his dark coat.

"Care for a swig?" He asked them, shaking the container slightly. Drinking alcohol was something she had never really made into a habit, for her it was only for special occasions. Without hesitation, Cara took the silver flask from his hand and drank a few gulps before passing it on to Maggie. Maggie glanced back to her brother, who was no longer watching her, but instead had gone back to his discussion with the man who was now writing something down on a pad of paper.

She grabbed the small open bottle in her hand and raised it to her friends, "Cheers." The liquid burned in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow. She coughed at the sensation, making Cara laugh as she took the flask back in her hand, downing what was inside again. The small group of friends joked and drank for the next hour or so, as the flames of the bonfire created a comforting warmth over the burning expressionless eyes of his majesty the king.

OoOoOo

After drinking so much during the bonfire, Cara must not have been feeling too well because she didn't show up to school the next day. Not only that, but it also seemed as though Finn decided to skip again. So unfortunately for Maggie, she was fated to walk home alone. Slung over her shoulder was her book bag which carried a few books, pens, and her journal. As she walked past the first alleyway, she felt a presence quickly appear next to her.

"In need of some company?" Ross asked, tossing his finished cigarette onto the pavement.

"That would be nice." She smiled up at his tall frame, which had a good five inches on her.

He motioned to the bookbag that rested on her shoulder, "Let me help with that."

"I can carry it myself." She calmly asserted, which made the young man grin.

"Now how would it look to all these people around us if I didn't help you with that, Hm?" He waved his index finger around to point at various people going about their day, "Word will get back to my mum, and she'd beat me for not being the gallant gentleman she raised. And you'd be responsible for that. I'm only trying to save you from a guilty conscience later on."

She supposed she shouldn't let that happen. With a small smile, she passed the bag to him which he took gladly.

"Last night was fun, eh?" He continued, slinging her bag over his shoulder.

"It was," she replied, allowing her mind to wander through the fresh memories. "Though I think Cara had too much fun."

"Sounds like her," he snickered out, "Never scared of fun."

"What else do you think about her?" The dark-haired girl pressed.

"Who, Cara?" He asked and Maggie nodded. "I dunno." He shrugged, adding, "Nice I suppose."

"Oh c'mon, you have to see the way she looks at you" Maggie alluded.

"Never noticed." He admitted, looking uncomfortable.

She knew she couldn't push the matter any further than that. It was time to change the subject, "How's work?"

"Factory is on strike again." He answered her, appearing more relaxed, "Freddie thinks we should be compensated more. Guess we'd need that in order to make up for the wages we've lost."

She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course, Freddy had something to do with this. Though she always admired her brothers' old friend for sticking to his beliefs, she silently judged anyone whose beliefs ranged on the spectrum of radical. "Freddie needs to be more careful. As do you, he's going to get everyone in some serious trouble."

He smiled at her worried words, "He'll be fine. I heard from other workers that he skipped town after the raid. As for me, I think that a bit of trouble is the only way to get what you want."

They had just turned onto Watery Lane, their pace began to slow until they eventually stopped just across the street from the front door of her home. "You didn't have to walk me all the way home, you know," she told him as he handed her book bag back.

His hazel eyes meet her blue ones, "I'd do anything for you, Margaret," he declared seriously. She couldn't help but think that there was a hidden meaning in his words. Was she reading too much into this? He must have meant that as her friend, right?

"I-," she started.

"Maggie!" Tommy's voice rang out.

Maggie turned her head to see her brother as he made his way toward them. The girl's heart clenched at the thought of what he was going to do. Her mind had quickly jumped back to the memory of yesterday, the slashing, the anger, the blood. She glanced over to Ross, whose expression went from nervous to stoic in a matter of seconds.

"Go inside," Tommy instructed once he stood close enough to the two teens.

"But-"

"Now Mags," he commanded with a low voice. Coolly, Tommy took a drag from his cigarette that was resting in between his fingers, not taking his eyes off Ross.

With a huff and a final look towards her friend, Maggie bid him farewell before swiftly walking toward the front door of her family home. Once the dark-haired girl was out of earshot Ross apprehensively spoke, "Mr. Shelby I- I was just walking her home, I wasn't trying to-"

"I know Ross," Tommy assured the anxious young man, tossing his finished cigarette to the ground. Pol had told him that the young Murray lad had helped look after his sister while he and his brothers were away in France. Had even heard a rumor amongst some of the younger men in the betting shop that he knocked the shit out of another boy who was sniffing around Margaret. If that was true, Tommy felt indebted. He was a busy man, so he cut to the chase, "You beat a bloke that was giving Maggie trouble?"

Ross modestly nodded at his question. "You're a good lad." The gangster commended, passing the young man one of his cigarettes from its silver metal casing. He also lit a match to assist him with lighting it. "Is your Uncle Ian still living in Dublin?"

Ross had to admit, he wasn't expecting the line of questioning to head in this direction. Nevertheless, he nodded once again, removing the rolled tobacco from his lips to allow a puff of smoke to escape from his lungs. The young man's confusion ceased when he watched Tommy pull out two pounds sterling from his pocket. Ross’s eyes couldn't help but widen at the act.

"Good, I want you to do me a favor. Call him and tell him to ask around all the local pubs in town if they know anything about a barmaid named Grace Burgess." As much as Tommy wanted to say he didn't care about this new woman who had found herself working at The Garrison, he needed to know exactly where she came from and if she was telling the truth. Digging out another pound he said, "Here send this to your uncle too."

"I will Mr. Shelby," he assured, accepting the coins in his outreached hand.

Tommy turned away and began walking toward his home, without looking back he added, "Welcome to the Peaky Blinders, Ross."

OoOoOo

When Maggie entered her home, she found Polly sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper and drinking tea. "Hello, love. How was school?"

"Fine." She replied curtly, dropping her book bag onto the floor beside the table. She immediately moved to the window, looking out just in time to see Tommy lighting a cigarette for Ross. Relief washed over Maggie, this conversation thankfully seemed as though it wouldn't involve fists... or razor blades.

Polly's eyes were now on her, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Maggie tore herself away from the window to sit down opposite her aunt, pulling out her journal and pen from the book bag next to her feet. Tommy ended up entering the kitchen not two minutes later.

"I hope you didn't tell my friend that you'd hurt him." Maggie told her brother much more boldly than she felt, "He was just being kind."

He stared at her for a moment before replying knowingly, "Now why would I hurt my newest recruit." With that, he exited into the betting shop closing the doors behind him. She gapped, still looking at the shut doors trying to process how Tommy could ever involve her friend in whatever schemes he was engaging in.

Her emotions must have shown all over her face because her aunt chuckled slightly. "I wouldn't worry too much about your friend," Polly told her eyes still on the black and white paper. But Maggie couldn't stop herself from slumping into the old wooden chair before she continued writing, ultimately stopping when she felt her sister's presence enter the room.

"Good of you to join us," Polly said to Ada from behind her newspaper. "Where have you been all day?

"In bed," Ada replied. "Couldn't sleep, then I couldn't wake up, then I was cold, and then I had to go for a wee. Then I was with this bear on a boat, but that was just a dream, then I was hungry." Maggie looked up from her journal once again to see that Ada took the empty seat between her and their aunt with a massive slice of bread with a jar of jam in hand.

Maggie looked pointedly at the last of the bread that she had made recently, "Jesus Ada, save some food for the rest of us."

Ada stuck her tongue out, before looking at her aunt, "Why are you reading the paper?" Ada inquired.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Polly questioned back, picking up her teacup.

"I've never seen you read the paper. I've only ever seen you light fires with them." The older Shelby sister continued, taking a bite of her food.

"BSA is on strike" Polly explained, "The miners are on strike. IRA are killing our boys, ten a day." Though when Polly stopped talking, she continued to stare at Ada eating.

The older girl soon noticed her aunt's gaze. "What?" She asked in between her chewing.

"Stand up," Polly commanded.

"Why?" Ada questioned.

"Just stand up," Polly ordered standing up herself, eventually Ada compiled, "Side on," Polly added and Ada motioned her body to face to the side. Maggie was taken aback when Polly suddenly cupped one of her sisters' breasts.

Though Ada was much more reactionary, "What are you doing?!"

"Ada, how late are you?" Polly asked seriously and Maggie couldn't stop her mouth as it fell open slightly.

"One week." Not too bad, Maggie thought. "Five weeks," Ada amended. It wasn't ideal, but maybe she was due any day now. "Seven, if you count weekends." The girl corrected herself once again.

"Holy Fuck, "Maggie shook her head in disbelief.

Ada seemed desperate for this not to be the reality, "I think it's a lack of iron. I got some tablets." She explained to them, as Polly sat back down in her chair.

"But they didn't work." Their aunt concluded.

Ada too sat back down, "No."

Maggie gulped at her sister's answer and looked to her aunt, watching Polly as she took a deep breath. The thought process could not be seen on her face, but the young girls knew that the situation was being meticulously addressed in her mind. "Get dressed. We're going to the midwife. Let's just make sure you are before anyone makes any rash decisions."

Ada nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. Maggie's heart clenched, and moved her hand over her sisters, squeezing it slightly. Whatever was to come, they would weather through it together.

#peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby #shelby sister #oc #ada shelby #alfie solomons #john shelby #polly shelby #peakyblinders #1920 #arthur shelby #finn shelby

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cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

Text

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Hello my Tumblr lovelys!

I am back with the next part of this story and I have left some gift baskets around the story with paper bags, oxygen masks, chocolate, blankets and some more chocolate. Please make use of them as needed as you read this part.

This one is for @hitmeonmytspot @fuseburner @primaba11erina and @turkish276

Please don’t all come for me at once and perhaps some warning before hand would be wonderful!

Suze xxx

P.S There are a good few Irish words in this part and there is an English translation straight after. I normally phonetically sound out the Irish words but because there are quite a few, I am not going to, unless someone really wants me to.

P.P.S That might just be me on St Patricks Day years ago in my Irish Dancing costume in the picture....

“Cleachtadh a dhéanann maistracht – Practise makes perfect”

As she made her way back to her table, she said hello to anyone she knew and as she wandered closer to her seat, she could hear loud laughter and didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved.

“Thanks Robyn.” Taron took his bottle of beer from her and she set the other drinks on the table in front of him.

“So, you are still alive then.” She said pulling a chair over beside him.

“And you too. Claire quiz you?”

Robyn grinned at him. “Just some girl talk.”

“Bloody girl talk.” He muttered before taking a drink from his bottle.

“We have been having a very interesting conversation with Taron.” Shane said wriggling his eyebrows at Robyn.

“It doesn’t surprise me at all.” She answered him. “And have you mauled him yet?” She threw his way, grinning as Shane blushed from ear to ear.

“Robyn!” His voice was a near high pitch squeal.

“And may I remind you that you are married.”

“You are coming out all defensive already Robyn and the evening hasn’t even begun. I was asking him about his time filming Rocketman.”

“I just know what you are like.” She answered him back and felt Taron shift a little in his chair so he could be a bit closer to her.

“He wanted to know about how we filmed the under-water scene.” Taron explained. “And if the hot pants chaffed.”

Another round of laughter circled the table. “It is a valid question and as a gay man, I think it is ok to ask.” Explained Shane.

“And did you get you answer?” Robyn asked as Claire took a seat beside her, carrying a tray with some drinks for everyone else at the table.

“Was waiting for it when you arrived back on your high horse.”

Robyn stuck her tongue out at her male friend and turned her attention to her drink. “Well don’t let me stop the conversation.”

Taron looked from Shane to Robyn and back to Shane before taking a glance at Claire who nodded her head at him and after he had swung his arm around the back of Robyn’s chair, answered the question.

“Not at all. They were actually quite comfortable.”

“They didn’t go up your bum?”

Robyn was mid swallow of her drink as Shane asked the question and some of it dribbled out of her mouth and she sat forward quickly trying to catch the drops in her hand so it wouldn’t get on her skirt. She was thankful for the tissue Claire quickly got her and wiped her chin and her hands before turning to Shane and glaring at him.

“You think you are the only one who can play this game?” She asked him with an edge to her voice.

“What game?” Asked Shane. “It is a genuine question and seeing as how Taron wore some, he has experience in this area.”

Robyn turned to look at Taron and he had one of those little cute half smiles on his face. “You do not have to answer that.”

“Not the way you thought this was going to go, huh chicken”? He asked her his eyes dancing with delight as he took in her angry stare at her friend.

“Chicken?” Claire’s voice took Robyn’s attention away from Shane and to her. “He just called you chicken. Why has he just called you chicken?”

“Ugh, I bloody hate you all.” Robyn threw her body back into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, a sulk on her face and pout on her lips.

Taron couldn’t help but laugh at her. He couldn’t have adored Robyn more in that moment and if her friends hadn’t of been around, he absolutely would have tried to poke the pout from her lips but as she was already embarrassed, he shuffled a little closer to her and swung his arm around her chair again, placing a light kiss on her head instead, ignoring the stares he could feel from her friends. Both himself and Robyn had expected the same taunts and heckling he had gotten from his friends but so far it had been the complete opposite and his normally composed Robyn was infuriated with her friends and he was kind of really enjoying the little tantrum she was pulling, something he rarely saw from her.

Still grinning he turned back to Shane. “I honestly can say that no, they didn’t and I am assuming that is either down to the massive size of my arse or the wonderful abilities of the costume designer.”

“Well that is all I wanted to know.” Replied Shane.

Taron nodded. “However, I will stick to my trusty boxers though but give them a go Shane. You might like them.” He watched as the married couple looked to each and winked and Taron turned his attention back to Robyn. “Smile.”

“No.” She answered him.

“Please smile.” He asked again. “Or I will do something drastic to make you smile.”

“No.”

“You are at a table in front of your friends and I will not hesitate at all to tickle you here and now.” He whispered into her hair, pretending he was kissing her head again.

“So…” Robyn sat up on her chair. “How has everyone’s day been.” She saw the beautiful grin on his face from the corner of her eye and allowed a calming deep breath to fill her lungs, the scent of Taron’s aftershave filling her senses as she inhaled, he was still that close to her and it helped to lift her mood immediately.

The table’s conversation was filled with laughter and stories and once Taron and Robyn had again talked through what happened at the 7/11, Robyn’s friends finding it a bit more difficult to hear the story from the man she had saved, the cheeky banter slowed down and the conversation became more about getting to know everyone at the table.

“Does it get draining though?”

“Not so much draining but frustrating.” Claire had asked Taron about his re-shoots and filming the same scene over and over. “You could get it perfect and then the director wants the same scene from a different angle and you could fluff a line or not put the same emotion needed or just not feel as happy as you could be with the performance. I am a perfectionist on set and it works against me sometimes. I can get annoyed very easily with myself if I keep doing it wrong and even more so when I know my mistakes wastes time.”

“Sounds like Robyn.” Said Emma. “Total perfectionist at work, maybe a little bit too much of OCD too.”

“Which came in very handy when we had the inspection last week.” Robyn answered back.

“Well I can’t argue with that. First time I have had an inspection where my staff were complimented.”

“Me too.” Agreed Robyn. “But then I am pretty awesome.” Robyn laughed.

“Fucking awesome.” Corrected Taron, laughing with Robyn at his words.

“Ok share the joke.” Complained Claire.

“Just something one of Taron’s friends said on New Year’s.”

Claire was about to question it again when the microphone screeched a little and their attention was taken by the man standing at the top of the gym. “Beannachtaí Lá Fhéile Padraig!” He said excitedly into the microphone.

“Happy St Patricks Day.” Robyn translated for Taron, grinning as he rolled her eyes at him.

“Kinda figured chicken.” Chuckling as she lightly elbowed him in his ribs.

“So, let me quickly explain how this is going to work. Those of you who have been to one of these before know most dances comprise of four pairs, eight people in total so some of you may need to buddy up with others but it doesn’t mean a group of four can’t figure it out too. I don’t know if you have noticed that your tables have numbers on the them and they correspond to your place on the floor. To help keep everyone in place, we have also put some footprints on the floor too so you can make sure to stand on your footprints, just so we don’t have groups dancing on top of each other. You can come and go as your please but we just ask that you wait until one dance is finished before you come and go, just to keep some sort of order on the floor. I am obliged to show you the fire exits. The way you all came in, three along the wall behind me and three on the opposite side. We will begin very soon and all that is left for me to say is bain sult as duit féin agus ná bíodh imní ort faoi na céimeanna a fháil mícheart. Tá sé ach beagán spraoi agus beidh an craic againn.”

A cheer went up and although Taron clapped along he turned to Robyn with a look that just screamed help.

“Robyn?”

“He said ‘Enjoy yourself and don't be worrying about getting the steps wrong. It's just a bit of fun and we'll have the craic’.”

“Thank you. So, everyone understood that accept me.” He looked around the table at the blank faces.

“What did he say?” Asked Shane.

Robyn quickly repeated the English translation for everyone else at the table. “Not everyone speaks Irish or understands it. Maybe a few words here or there.”

“Hadn’t a clue.” Agreed Shane. “You English taking our native language.” He smirked toward Taron.

“And Taron is Welsh Shane, not English.” She patted Taron’s knee, reassuring him after Shane’s words. “And some of us paid attention in Irish class in school.”

“Wasn’t for me.”

“No but the teacher was! I am surprised you didn’t actually grasp the concept of the language.”

“It wasn’t the language I wanted to grasp!” Shane winked, earning a dig from his husband but he appeased him with a quick kiss to his lips.

Taron laughed and then smiled before looking away from the little intimate moment between the two and he turned his attention back to Robyn.

She noticed the change in direction of his body and turned to him. “So, you ready for a dance?”

“Well to fully embrace my Irishness, yes and I apologise now if I stand on your foot.”

“Well you didn’t in Aber so I think I can trust you.”

“Please remember you said that at the end of the evening.”

Within the next ten minutes a slight buzz of excitement filled the air as the Irish music stopped and the group of people in charge of the céilí were getting set up around the gym, making sure they each knew which section of the floor was theirs so they could teach the dances to the groups, helping each group as they got into the literal swing of things.

“Ok and we are ready to go! So, if you want to make you way up to your number, we can get you all started.”

Robyn looked around the tables as no one moved. She looked to Taron and tilted her head towards the floor and he immediately stood up and taking her hand skipped with her to the dance floor in the middle of the tables, Robyn giggling at his actions as he found their table number on the floor and stood directly on it.

“And thank you so much Miss Quinn!” Robyn made a fake curtesy to the MC. “And your partner.”

“Dean!” Robyn grinned. “This is Dean!”

Taron looked to Robyn and could only smile at her grin on her face and then back to MC smiling. “Yep that’s me Dean.” He turned back to Robyn. “Seriously. Is there one person in this town who does not know who you are!” He laughed as she pulled a face at him but was distracted from returning his own, when Shane and Darragh stood beside them.

“We’re here too! Ready to Riverdance our hearts out and give Michael Flatley a run for his money.”

The four broke out in laughter and once the other tables saw Robyn, Taron, Shane and Darragh get up first to the floor, they slowly filtered their way up and took their places on the dance floor, the rest of Robyn’s friends joining them.

“So, we’re sticking with Dean huh?” Taron asked he stood beside her with Shane and Darragh opposite them in a square shape, the other four from their table behind them in the same square formation.

“Seems to working for you today.” She replied to him.

They were been given a very quick walk through demonstration of the first dance of the evening, The Walls of Limerick.

“Do you know this dance?” Taron asked her.

“This is the only one I would know. We did this in school as kids.” She told him as the music started.

“Ok well I am counting on you then to get these one two threes right.”

Robyn laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. “I think I might enjoy this more than you rocketman.”

The helpers counted everyone in and the dance started. Robyn knew Taron would have no trouble with getting the basic one two three of the Irish dancing step or keeping in time as with his musical ability, keeping rhythm and time came so natural to him but it was more making sure they went in the right direction and she almost convulsed with giggles as he crashed into her as she went to the left while he went to her right and he had to catch her, lifting her in the right direction before he set her down again.

“Stop laughing Robyn!” He muttered as they danced forwards and backwards again but she just made a face with him as she swapped places diagonally with Darragh opposite her before Shane switched with Taron and holding each other’s hands they spun around in circles.

They stood on the outer square while Emma, Tommy, Claire and Nick had their turn with the dance and Robyn was still giggling away.

“Best night ever!” She laughed. “Oh, I wish I could have videos of these dances!”

“I will get the hang of it!” Taron insisted as he concentrated on watching the dance play out in front of him again. “Not all of us have Irish dancing in our blood or did it as a kid.”

It was a pure look of concentration Robyn had never seen on Taron’s face before and he held her hand firmly when he needed too and made sure his direction was perfect the second time and as he spun Robyn around and back to their place giving the other four their chance to have their turn he did an extra little step, delighted with himself he got it perfect.

“Told you!” He grinned.

“You are a quick learner but I already knew that.”

Once each set of four had danced the set twice more the music ended and a huge roar and applause went up in the gym, Taron clapping enthusiastically with everyone else.

“Oh, Robyn this is just the best Irish thing ever. I am so glad I could come over. I desperately needed something like this to just shake all my stress and anxiety off. Thank you so much.” He gave her a sideways hug and she grinned at Claire who made kissy faces at her, Robyn returning her own to her friend as she stood close with Nick.

The next dance in the set was called The Siege of Ennis and instead of two groups of four, involved all eight, two lines of four standing opposite each other. Every group was given another brief walk through of the dance and it carried the same basic steps as the other, criss crosses, spins and even a bridge of arms. They started off great, but soon the four pairs became a tangle of arms, wrong directions and mountain of giggles and laughter, having to go back to the footsteps on the ground waiting so they could start again. On the second try and with some guidance from one of the helpers, they got through one round of the dance and needed no help for their third and fourth round.

Robyn could see that Taron was thoroughly enjoying himself and his whole demeanour had flipped from that morning, a ridiculously honest smile on his face. She was so delighted that the day had turned positive for him, hating it when he was down over his work though she was still slightly concerned about his upcoming job knowing how he was going to have to dig really deep for the emotion needed for the character he was playing, the reality of the story of an abused son making Taron want to put everything he had into it. Shaking her head, Robyn brought herself back to the present and looked to him as he happily chatted with Emma and her husband and Nick, while herself, Claire and the other married couple stood talking to each other a few footsteps down as they waited for the next dance to begin.

“You can bring him to visit us any time Robyn.” Smiled Shane. “He is a darling and dotes on you something shocking.”

“He does not.”

“Listen here Robyn Quinn, that boy is head over heels in love with you and you may not have noticed the little touches he gives you, like a hand on your shoulder or around your waist but I have and my God I am so jealous of it all.”

“I think you are going to be divorced by the end of today.” Darragh grinned to his husband. “But Shane is right.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at her friends. “We are…”

“Just friends.” They all said together, Robyn frowning at them.

“Does he have to have such a perfect side profile.” Sighed Shane.

“So, I am going to take my husband outside for some air. We will be back.” Darragh placed his hands on Shanes shoulders and guided him out of the hall, Claire and Robyn laughing.

“They are going to do what you and Taron need to be doing.”

“And you and Nick.” Robyn countered. “Which by the way, the spins are not hip to hip spins but hand to hand spins.” She grinned.

“They never specified that in the instructions.” Laughed Claire and she glanced at Nick who was a in fully animated conversation with Taron. “I just want to kiss him.” Claire sighed.

“Then go and kiss him.” Suggested Robyn. “I really don’t think he will mind. He was asking where you were earlier during the choir’s gig.”

“I was watching from afar.”

Robyn watched the hopeless look on her friend’s face. “Claire please just go and talk to him, ask him out! Kiss the man! I absolutely guarantee you that it will be a very positive result and a yes to going for a drink. He is such a wonderful person.”

“So is Taron.”

“We are talking about you and Nick, not me and Taron.”

“You go and kiss Taron and I will kiss Nick.”

Robyn looked to Claire as she gave her the ultimatum and could see the seriousness in her face. “Really?” She asked tilting her head.

“You go and kiss Taron right now before the next dance starts and I will go and kiss Nick.”

“A kiss. Sure, no problem.”

“And not just a kiss on the cheek Robyn. A proper kiss on his lips.”

“Well the same goes for you too.” She watched as Claire’s face faltered a little. “You are going to give out such demands you need to follow through with them on your part.”

“I will.”

Robyn held out her hand and Claire gripped it tight, both girls adding their second hand. It was a well-used promise handshake they had created when making a deal with each other when they kids and had become their tradition as they grew up and once the handshake was made, the deal had to be followed through with or else face a forfeit of the others choosing. Handshake given and promise assured, Robyn grinned to her friend and saluted her. She turned away and prayed no one could see her heart beating wildly in her chest. She only agreed to go through with this stupid plan because she knew Nick was desperate to ask Claire out but both her friends were so hesitant to make a move so if a little kiss from Taron, something she had with him before, would sort them out, she was very willing to do it and not just because she wanted to kiss him. Again. She just wanted to help her best friend. That was what she told herself anyway.

Taron was standing still talking to Nick, Emma and Tommy, a beautiful but tired smile on his face and he was talking with his hands, still about music, specifically the music of Elton John and Robyn knew he was in his element at the moment. His cheeks were a little red from the slight heat in the gym and the two dances they had just danced and he had opened all the buttons of his check shirt, the material now hanging loosely against his body and she was suddenly regretting her quick and sudden deal with Claire, realising she hadn’t actually thought this through properly. Claire would not be happy with a simple peck on his lips, the deal requiring much more and her hands started to shake as she strolled toward the little group. She wished she hadn’t been so rash with her plan to get Nick and Claire together. Her heart was hammering and she could feel her stomach swirling in knots, her hands shaking a lot more and all she could think of was how handsome and gorgeous he looked just causally standing there talking to her friends. He had been such a gent and so wonderful with her friends, getting to know them, willingly sharing stories of his life with them and he was just happy. Pure happiness radiated from every inch of him and it was how she liked seeing him best however now as she walked towards him, she never even considered her end of the deal with Claire and how a kiss with Taron was going to affect her or him and it was suddenly a very bad idea.

“Hey Robyn.” He said giving her one of his trademark grins that spread over his face. “I was filling Nick in on our sing song with Elton.”

A very bad idea but with her head held high she walked right up to him. “You trust me, right?” She simply said.

“Of course. Always.”

“Ok well then trust when I say this is for the greater good in the long run.”

She took one long breath, her lungs filled with a mixture of humid air in the gym and that wonderful aftershave he always wore and it made her a little dizzy but she couldn’t back out and stepped right up to him, taking in his now slightly amused face, his stunning eyes, a light brown colour even in the green glow of the gym, opening wide and searching hers as he looked down to her, his forehead creasing as he raised his eyebrows in an almost question as to what she was up too. She heard and felt the hitch of breath he took as she pressed her body up against his and with her hands going to the back of his neck, lifted her head so she could reach his lips with hers and with perhaps a little more weight at first then she meant to, pressed her lips against his, then keeping them soft and light, Taron immediately tilting his head so their noses didn’t bump, his hands going to her waist pulling her right against him.

He knew what was coming before it happened, the determination in which Robyn walked towards him and the way she looked at him told him what she was going to do, her words of ‘you trust me’ making it so obvious what was going to happen but it did not mean he was prepared in any shape of form for the force at which she kissed him. Robyn stalled against him, her lips just resting against his, not moving at all and it took every part of him not to run away with the kiss. Feeling her silky lips against his caused a rush of electricity through his whole body and he parted his lips a little so her bottom lip slipped in-between his and he did his best to hold in the moan he was so desperate to let go from his body as he gently started to create the tiniest motion of friction so their lips finally moved against each other’s. His head was spinning and he knew if he dared to open his eyes, the room would be twirling around him so instead his closed his eyes tighter and pressed his mouth a little harder against Robyn’s knowing well that her lipstick had already transferred to his lips and not caring that his fingers dug into waist for a mili-second before he brought his hands up to her face. His hands cradled her neck, his thumbs at the edge of her face in front of her ears, giving him an almost better grip on her so he could hold her face in place as he moved his lips more against hers and taking the lead, he dared to move the slightest half inch away from her, her bottom lip falling from his, before he went back in immediately for a second kiss, not even taking a breath into his lungs for fear that if he waited too long he wouldn’t get a second kiss and it was also desperation that spurred him on not knowing if and when he would ever get a kiss like this with her again.

As Taron’s nose brushed against hers once more as he moved his head to tilt his face in the opposite direction, Robyn copied his hand position and moved her hands, pulling his face closer to hers as she felt him pull away, Robyn now taking control of the kiss back, gliding her lips over his before she stood right on her toes so she could capture his top lip between hers, increasing the tight hold on his face and the pressure at which she was kissing him, drawing his lips into hers. The scratch of his facial hair felt so satisfying on her skin and as he parted his lips once more, she let his wonderful damp and velvety lips take over their kiss, Robyn pressing her body further into his, the heat from him only increasing the building temperature between them. Robyn could feel his hands holding her face a little harder than he normally would and his nose swept hers once more as he changed his head’s position again. The way he moved his lips so nimbly against hers, made kissing him effortless and Robyn was very quickly finding it so difficult to keep her restraint and she had to make herself stop kissing him knowing the forth head tilt from Taron was a sign it was long enough but she needed to get one last kiss in and as she pulled away from him went back in to have one more light feather peck, a silent sigh leaving her body as her forehead rested on his, her hands still on his face. Taron leaned in to steal one last and final kiss from her, his lips in a full grin as his slightly wet and parted lips met hers and she could feel the smile on his lips and she knew she had the exact same one on hers.

“Jesus fucking Christ in heaven! What was that!”

Taron and Robyn, whose bodies were still locked together, turned their heads to see Shane and Darragh staring at them, Shane’s eyes open wide, his hands on his cheeks too. Robyn didn’t give him an answer but turned around to stand in front of Taron and looked to Claire with a smirk.

“You’re turn.” She simply said to her friend, her hands reaching for Taron’s which were now around her waist and she was so glad he had a tight hold of her because her legs were like jelly, her head was spinning and her lips were on fire and the heat from Taron’s body felt glorious agasint hers.

Claire was mortified, not believing Robyn would even dare to kiss Taron in such a way, thinking she was going to chicken out but she didn’t. In fact, Robyn had gone above and beyond and shared a kiss with Taron that was extremely intimate, quite thorough and as she witnessed it, could firmly say it was definitely heated. Claire had been by Robyn’s side as she fell madly in love with Keith but had never seen her best friend share a kiss like the one she had just shared with Taron with Keith and it wasn’t even a kiss of a couple in love, well love that had been admitted to each other. It was just two friends kissing but it was so much more when watched from the outside. They their hands rested perfectly on each other’s cheeks and they just knew how to position their heads so they didn’t bump noses and it had the perfect amount of everything a kiss needed and as Claire stood with her mouth open as she witnessed their kiss, their first proper kiss, she was stunned. It was near perfect. She hadn’t missed that at one point Taron took the lead with the kiss, seeing how much he wanted to kiss Robyn so much more than he was letting on and it made her a little sad to know that Robyn wanted it as much as he did and the two were just holding back so much.

However, now that Robyn had fulfilled her end of the deal it was her turn and she was stood frozen on the spot. Robyn was always a little braver than she was, especially over the last three years and although she had doubted that Robyn would follow through with the kiss, her best friend had gone and kissed Taron hard and without a doubt Claire knew she now had no choice but to kiss Nick, the man she had been crushing on for at least four years.

“Claire.” Asked Robyn looking to her friend, who hadn’t moved for a few seconds, motioning with her eyebrows for her to go over to Nick.

“Nick you want to help a girl out here?” Robyn was surprised to hear Taron speak and even more shocked when Nick walked past them, over to Claire and placing his two hands on her cheeks, kissed her, a lot more deeply then Robyn and Taron kissed and a few wolf whistles went up around them.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on and why everyone is kissing everyone else and why I am not getting kissed by anybody!”

Robyn felt Taron’s chest move with his laughter and closed her eyes as he threw his arms around her shoulders and hugged her against him. “You are in trouble Miss Quinn.” He whispered to her, his breathe hot against her cheek. “And have a lot of explaining to do.”

She gave his hands a squeeze and felt the deep breath he took, taking one of her own and turned to face him, not missing the flush on his face or how his eyes were now a swirling mix of brown and green.

“What it with all the kissing!” Shane asked again, clear frustration in his voice.

“Want to go outside?” Robyn asked him. “Before the next dance starts?”

“Please.”

Without a word to those around her, Robyn lifted Taron’s arms from around her shoulder and over her head, keeping a grip on his hand and started to lead him off the dance floor. As they walked, she could hear Shane complaining again and as she walked past Claire, she gave her a little push with her left hand, breaking the kiss between herself and Nick, winking at her. “Not that hard was it?” She said as she walked past them, still keeping a tight grip on Taron’s hand.

She guided him out the front door of the club house and to the left walking down the footpath a little and to a little corner she knew of where they could talk.

“So, Robyn what is with all the kissing?” Taron asked her as he leant against the brick wall behind him, his arms crossing over his chest. “Not that I am complaining, just to put that out there.” He added, hoping that his face had cooled down a little, though his cheeks still felt incredibly hot and even the chill in the late-night air wasn’t helping to cool his overheated body down. He could still feel Robyn pressed up right against his body and he had hugged Robyn so many times before, tight gripping hugs where she was properly squished against him but when their touching bodies were from the result of a kiss, it was a completely different feeling all together. “Sometimes a man needs a bit of warning before he is assaulted with kisses.” He gave her a little half smirk, keeping his arms folded against his chest, resisting the urge to touch his lips, instead rubbing them together and licking what he knew was her lipstick from them, that cosmetic taste in his mouth a little reminder that once again Robyn had kissed him and not just a little kiss, a proper full on, lip sucking kiss and it was glorious and he saw a few fireworks set off behind his closed eyes.

“You never warned me outside the lift.”

He grinned at her response. “Robyn, I kissed your neck. You fully planted one on my lips and in front of your friends and it was more than just a little kiss. Honestly, I thought you were going to slip me some tongue at one point.”

“Ugh eww Taron no!” Robyn turned away from him and squeezed her eyes shut biting her bottom lip before she turned back and prayed her face was calm and composed. “Just no. You are my friend.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. “So chicken, care to explain what that was all about? I am guessing something to do with Claire, maybe a bet of some sorts? She looked mortified. What did you two agree too.”

“I am really sorry Taron, about the kiss.” Robyn stepped a little closer to him and leaned opposite him against the wall.

“I didn’t ask you if you were sorry. You don’t have to apologise to me over it. You did ask me first in a way.”

“I asked you if you trust me.”

“And I do.” He assured you. “And you know I do, with my life.” He waited for Robyn to start with an explanation but she was staying silent. “Come on Robyn. Spill or I am ringing Diean right now to tell him about our kiss. He has been bugging me about the New Year’s Eve kiss constantly so I know he will love this one!” Taron pulled his phone from his jeans pocket but Robyn quickly snatched it from his hands.

“I did do it for Claire.” She started to explain quickly, still holding Taron’s phone, her eyes glancing down very quickly as his screen lit up as she accidently swiped his phone, a new picture of the two of them on his screen, one from New Year’s Eve they had taken on the beach before they went to her home. “I hadn’t actually planned just to land a kiss on you like that, I promise. She is so desperately in love with Nick and has been since he joined the choir four years ago and you know we had this match making plan and I know Nick has been fawning over Claire since I introduced the two of them after a gig we did. So, we were having our girl talk…”

“I am going to ban girl talk.” Interrupted Taron. “Bane of my life. Even Rosie and Mari have their girl talk now. No boys allowed!” He complained.

Ignoring him, Robyn continued. “Well during our girl talk, Claire told me that I wouldn’t kiss you and I replied to her with the oh so mature answer of well you won’t kiss Nick and I was like sure I would kiss you if she kissed Nick and she was like well if you kiss Taron I will kiss Nick and then she made the deal tougher by saying that it couldn’t be a kiss on his cheek, as in your cheek, it had to be on the lips and I was like well if I do this, knowing and hoping you wouldn’t mind, I mean we have kissed before, Claire would have to follow through and kiss Nick and like I said, I already know that Nick has a thing for Claire and Claire is like a love sick puppy when she sees Nick even if she won’t admit to it and then we agreed and shook on it using our special handshake which we cannot go back on so I had to go first and kiss you and then we kissed and I was like go on Claire and she stalled and looked at me as if she had seen a ghost and I mean I had just kissed you so she had to follow through with our deal and she just stood there with a blank face, and then you spoke to Nick and he just went and kissed her instead and hey how did you get Nick to do that so quick with just some words and he went straight in for a kiss but Claire totally broke our deal she needs to do the forfeit but I mean…”

Taron watched as Robyn started to talk fast and her words jumbled together as she moved away from the wall, still with his phone and placed back and forth in front of him her hands moving as she spoke and as she rambled on, Taron was grinning from ear to ear. Sure the kiss played complete havoc with his emotions and he was still light headed and buzzing from the feeling of kissing her but he did not regret it at all or how he kissed her back and as he stood away from the wall he automatically found himself biting his lip, still feeling Robyn’s against him and he chuckled as Robyn began to speak even faster. She always spoke fast, her words almost blurring together even more so when she was excited or as he found out the hard way, angry and she was doing it right now, almost without taking a breath. He stepped in front of her, stopping her mid-stride and without a second thought, he reached forward and put his hand over her mouth to stop her which she did but he pulled his hand away quickly as she licked him.

“Don’t lick people.” He grinned. “And like I said, you don’t have to apologise to me. You asked me if I trusted you and I said yes and I do and when you were at the bar with Claire, Nick and I were getting to know each other. He let it slip that he was very happy you asked him to come along as he has the biggest crush on Claire. I did a little match making of my own and told him he should tell her but he wasn’t really feeling brave enough too. After you kissed me and egged Claire on, I put two and two together and thankfully Nick took the hint and the first step and went to kiss her.”

“You little sneaky rocketman. Hatching plans of your own.”

“Except Nick and I did not have a handshake to seal the deal.”

“I am going to make Claire pay for not stepping up.”

Taron grinned. “I think she will give you whatever you want after that kiss she had with Nick.”

“Finally.” Smiled Robyn. “Those two has been making googly eyes at each other for years.” Robyn looked down to her hands as she accidently swiped his phone again and she saw their picture. “I am sorry for just kissing you like that Taron.”

“It’s ok. I think I can forgive you when you ramble on nervously like that and if we got Claire and Nick together, than mission accomplished.”

“Taron…”

“Honestly, it is ok.” He stepped closer to her and held his arms out for a hug, which she walked into. “Don’t over think it ok. I know what you are like. It was just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss.” Repeated Robyn into his shoulder but it was so much more than just a kiss and as she started to re-live that wonderfully delicate and smooth kiss, his phone rang in her hands, ending the short hug between then. “It’s your mam.” She said to him, looking at the name on the screen.

He smiled and took the phone from her and answered it with a light cheery tone. “Hey mam!”

“Hello love! I just wanted to check in with you before your night became too Irish and you would forget to call your mother back.” Hearing Tina’s words, Robyn laughed. When Tina heard the laughter, she knew Taron was with his reason for his visit to Ireland. “Hello Robyn.”

“Hey Tina!” Robyn said loudly so she could hear him.

“Hi Robyn!”

She laughed as she heard Rosie and Mari too. “Hello girls.” Robyn looked to Taron. “I will leave you to it.”

“You don’t have too and you know the girls want to talk to you. Always want to talk to you.”

Robyn grinned. “And you know I adore them but your mother wants to talk to you.”

“And you want to talk to Claire.” He returned.

“Oh my God I do.”

“So, more girl talk.” He rolled his eyes. “Go, I will follow you.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Sort out that forfeit too.”

“I will.”

Robyn turned on her heels and walked away from Taron, hearing him pick up the call as she headed back for the door, inhaling the cool fresh air was she walked. Her head was still very fuzzy and not only from the specular kiss but also from Taron’s reaction. He was so calm and acceptive of what she had done to him, literally done to him and he was his usual wonderful self and she was so confused by it all. She was expecting at least a tiny bit of backlash from what she had done but there was none. He was completely understanding and had even said he couldn’t complain about what she had done and as she pulled open the door of the GAA club she took a glance back to him. He was laughing and smiling and not for the first time her stomach dropped to her toes. Whatever doubts she had before about being in love with Taron had been well and truly squashed. She, Robyn Quinn, without a doubt was head over heels in love with the man that was Taron Egerton.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Céilí #St Patricks Day #Dancing #Kissing #Bets #Trust #Couples #Emotions #Robyn and Taron #Matters of the Heart

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