#lucky irish

[max-e-doodle]

4-Leaf Clover. 1 in 10,000.

[pinkfairiesteaparty]

[thoselovelythings]

[hannahssimblr]

“Come on!” Jen giggles, “Just one! One little eeny-weeny teeny puff!”

“No! Get it away!” 

With one hand locked behind my neck, she tries to slot a joint into my mouth. I gently but firmly peel her hands off me. “This is the textbook definition of peer pressure.”

“Oh, you should tell your parents what’s happening to you. They’ll think I’m evil.”

“They already half think that.”

“Come on!”

“I’ll vomit.”

“You might not this time. It might be different.”

“There’s something deeply insane about that statement.”

“Here!” Shane interjects, holding his hand out for the joint. “Give it to me, sure it’s only wasted on him.” He pops it between his lips, and when he smokes it, the end crackles, a dot of smouldering light in the dark. 

Standing around watching my friends get stoned has been a regular fixture of the summer. We spend most of these long, lazy evenings hanging out in some unkempt corner of the caravan park, where the sun’s warmth lingers on the fractured tarmac and damp beach towels are drying over the wire fence around the tennis court. 

Last night, some man in his thirties complained that our chatting was disturbing his kids’ bedtime and that he could smell the weed smoke inside his caravan. Except he didn’t call it weed. He called in ganja, and when he went back inside, we snickered about it until he hissed out of the window that he was going to phone the police.

So tonight I am standing around watching my friends get stoned in town instead. It took me forty-five minutes to cycle in to meet them, and my reward for that is the ends of the Chinese takeaway that they didn’t finish and a wonky joint being forced into my mouth.

“Fuck, that’s shite,” Shane hacks out a bone-dry cough, and he pushes the joint towards Joe, who has the temerity to look offended. “Hey! My brother sold me that.”

“Did your brother fish it out of that bin at the back of the chipper?”

Joe smokes it to prove a point. “It’s lovely,” he insists, eyes watering, “I think that’s… that’s actually the nicest weed I ever had.”

“It tastes of stale crackers.”

“My brother wouldn’t sell me bad stuff! Don’t say that about-” his eyes bulge and he breaks off into wheezing coughs, doubling over with a hand clutching at his throat, “Okay, right enough,” he manages as we passively watch him struggle, “it’s a bit dry.” 

Kasper is waving in the distance, doing a little half-run across the pedestrian crossing. He’s coming back from the off licence with a school bag packed so full of cans that he hasn’t been able to zip it up all the way. 

“I saw Liam,” He says, eyes dancing as though he has spotted a cryptid in the woods, “And girlfriend eating at restaurant.”

“Just now?” Jen says. 

“Yes, five minutes.”

They must be on a date. I wonder did he ask her to his debs. I wonder if she said yes. I wonder why I am invested. 

“Oh! Cute! Maybe they’ll come and hang out.” She produces her flip phone and begins texting. 

“No,” Shane protests with a waving hand, “Don’t. Don’t invite them.”

“Too late. I’ve asked her.”

“No. It’s weird! I don’t want her to see me stoned.”

“She knows you smoke weed.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Well, she’s about to find out.”

My stomach does strange things at the thought of seeing Evie again. It’s ridiculous and makes little sense because she’s just some random girl who hangs out with Kelly Healy. It would be easier to dismiss this sensation as weird hunger pangs if I hadn’t eaten less than half an hour ago, so instead, I conclude I am experiencing a sudden onset anxiety disorder and concentrate on ignoring it.

When she arrives about fifteen minutes later, I ignore the feeling even harder. She is smiling, but Liam is not. He drags his feet behind her, pointedly miserable, while Evie drifts over and hugs Jen, oblivious to him. 

I’m there too, somehow, holding out my arms to hug her. I make sure it’s brief, because I am still somewhat attempting to be nice to Liam, and suspect he considers my touching or looking at Evie in any way to be bullying. I give him that awkward, closed-lip smile afterwards, and he does the same in return. 

The smell of Evie’s jasmine shampoo lingers in my nose even after she is gone. 

“What happened to your face?” Shane asks her. She goes pink and wipes a knuckle under her eye. “Nothing happened. Kelly did my makeup.”

A laugh bubbles from his lips. “Well, you look mad.”

All I noticed was the dark makeup on her eyes and some lipstick. It’s not exactly shocking stuff.

Jen rolls her eyes as she takes the joint from Joe. “Don’t mind him. You look lovely as usual.” She takes a long, luxurious drag. “You want?” 

“Ah, no. She can’t have any,” Shane pushes Jen’s arm away. “I wouldn’t let Evie do any of this stuff. She’s only a baby.”

Jen doesn’t rest, she just swings her arm to Liam instead. “How about you?” And I wonder if the quality is really so bad that she’s offering it to him. I feel it’s just as good in the rubbish bin. Smirking, I catch eyes with Evie, who is trying her hardest to look serious, and wonder if she is thinking about the story I told her about him at the gallery yesterday. The memory of her guilty laughter makes me feel like I might lose my cool completely.

Liam brushes some curls across his forehead and straightens up haughtily. “No thanks. I’m probably not going to stay for long, anyway. I have to get up at six for work.” He takes his phone out of his jeans. “Actually, I think I’m going to text my dad to come and get me now, so if you want a lift, Evie, you can come.”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “I think I’m going to stay.”

His brow furrows. “Will you just get a taxi then or what?”

“We’ll get her home safely,” I say, and a rigidity comes over Liam. He won’t look at me, and a muscle pops in his cheek. 

“Will you? But sure, you’re all stoned.”

“I’m not. She’ll be fine with us.”

“Okay,” he says, though it’s clear it’s not at all, but what does he expect? You can’t exactly force a girl who is so clearly repelled by your presence to hang out with you. In fact, Evie spends the next half hour chit-chatting with Jen and ignoring him while he sulks in the background, waiting for his dad to collect him. When he leaves they exchange awkward goodbyes, and she continues as she was, as though she’s already forgotten he was with her. I should probably feel bad for him, but I am oddly triumphant. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[arctic-hands]

I get why potatoes are popularly associated with Ireland and to a lesser extent other parts of Europe, but it's a bit messed up that most people will think potatoes were originally cultivated in Ireland and not ancient Peru and Bolivia like they actually are

[musette22]

County Wicklow & Dublin, May 2024

[doomspaniels]

The Big Doggies had some Opinions about the parasite that swallowed the Little Howly Buddy's head. Mostly "What on EARTH??"

[pugsandfrenchbulldogs]

[thatsrightice]

We had a month's training in Boise, Idaho, a month in Wendover, Utah, and a month in Sioux City, lowa. Either because our training was inadequate or because I was not fitted for the job, I had little reason to develop confidence about my ability as a navigator. On Christmas Eve, 1942, our plane took off from Wendover, Utah, the weather closed in, our gas ran out, and we crash-landed in the snowy mountains of western Wyoming. No one was hurt, testimony to the high skill of John Brady.

When a woman saw the smashed plane, she asked, "Which of you is the Scot?"

"I am Scotch-Irish," I said. "Will that do?"

"Yes," she said. "Scots are lucky. That's why none of you got killed.”

Later she gave me a sprig of Scotch heather and said, "Keep this and you will always be lucky."

I wish that the woman-her husband was vice president of the bank of Evanston, Wyoming-gave the rest of the crew a good luck charm.

— Harry Crosby in his memoir, A Wing and a Prayer

[annasinfatuation]

Hope ye all get lucky, Happy Paddy's Day 🍀🇮🇪

[bread--quest]

to this day one of the strangest situations i've ever been in is, in the year of our lord 2023, having a debate with a middle-aged woman from texas who was trying to write a graduate thesis over whether or not it was utilizing girl power for american colonist women in the 1770s to remain loyal to the british empire. i think about it a lot.

[miss-what-a-d0ll]

𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉! 🍀

(𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆) 🤗

[finnlongman]

This evil giant Garuidh was a lot more intimidating before I realised that the modern Irish pronunciation of his name was "Gary".

[thoselovelythings]

[hannahssimblr]

Evie in Lucky Girl 'Jude Turner is so beautiful that sometimes it's hard to look right at him, like I'm looking right into the sun...'

also jude from her POV

[cariondrawing]

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! 🍀..

.

.

.

#digitalart #digitalartist #artistsoninstagram #digitalillustration #characterdesign #characterillustration #stpatricksday #stpattysday #lucky #luck #luckyclover #clover #leprechaun #leprechaungold #leprechaungirl #ladyleprechaun #🍀 #gold #green #black #potofgold #buckle #orangehair #irish Ireland #background #digitalbackground #pattern #patterndesign #art #artwork