#manchester speech

[tayfabe75]

"Concerts are supposed to be about innocence, and about joy, and about excitement. And what happened just over a year ago in this city was an attempt to steal that innocence, and steal that joy, and steal that excitement, and steal that escape. And ever since then, you have shown such strength and such exuberance. And you've shown that you're never going to let anyone forget about those victims. And you've known that you have such incredible resilience - to keep dancing, and to keep the innocence and to keep the joy and to keep the excitement. I just wanted to say, Manchester, is it such an honor to play for you tonight."

June 8, 2018: During a show in Manchester, England, Taylor pauses to remember those who lost their lives in the Manchester Arena bombing in May 2017. (source 1, 2)

[pilloclock]

Amazing speech from todays Manchester Palestine demo 🇵🇸❤️ please listen

[lensinski]

Gary Neville in BECKHAM

Gary was Mister Sensible. Did he talk a lot then? Gaz? Gaz always talked. And we very rarely listend to him.

[sunshineandlyrics]

💕 Louis' speech about his first audition and appreciating the fans 🥹

FITFWT Manchester, 11 November 2023

[jadonsgf]

that was hot….

[sayruq]

The UK government has revoked the student visa of a Palestinian student who lost relatives in Gaza after she spoke at a demonstration at the University of Manchester. Dana Abuqamar, a law student who heads the Friends of Palestine Society at the University of Manchester, said the UK government revoked her visa on “national security” grounds, after claiming she was a risk to public safety. “The claim they are making is baseless and violates my rights as a resident here in the UK. My legal team has lodged a human rights appeal against this decision to revoke my student visa in my last and final year as a law student,” Abuqamar said, speaking to Al Jazeera English, confirming that her visa had been revoked. Last year, Abuqamar revealed that she had lost at least 15 relatives in Gaza after the Israeli army bombed a three-storey building in the besieged enclave. “During this genocide, the UK Home Office decided to revoke my student visa following public statements supporting the Palestinian right to exercise under international law to resist oppression and break through the siege that was illegally placed on Gaza for over 16 years,” said Abuqamar. “Freedom of expression is a fundamental human right, but it seems to not apply to ethnic minorities, particularly Muslims and Palestinians like myself. We must reject the double standard in the application of human rights by public authorities and rise against this oppression.” A spokesperson for the UK Home Office said it did not respond to individual cases.

[feedbaylenny]

Screaming protesters rush stage during DeSantis speech at New Hampshire GOP dinner

(As originally published with bells and whistles, Fri, April 14th 2023, 9:03 PM EDT) We don’t know how often this happens but protesters rushed the stage when Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis was speaking in New Hampshire, Friday evening. It happened at the Amos Tuck dinner in Manchester. DeSantis was reminiscing about getting elected in 2018. “Fifteen, eighteen,” the governor said, looking to his…

[verstappensrealwife]

Club Lights - Lando Norris x Reader

fluff, ¿angst?

approx 1200 words

READER IS FROM MANCHESTER + FRIENDS WITH ANGRY GINGE

warnings: mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of kissing and sex- nothing 18+. I tried to use more speech :s

lando norris masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

Lando was streaming fortnite with Morgan (AngryGinge), Max (F), and Filly, when he said something that caused more than laughter from Morgans end of the call.

“Y/n, god bless her heart, is not my girlfriend.” Ginge had to quickly say before any misconceptions were thought.

“But- I- You were linking arms all throughout the time you were in Monaco?” Lando replied, a look of confusion and disbelief on his face. “Prove she isn’t. Call her right now!”

Ginge simply shrugged and grabbed his phone, scrolling his contacts and landing on you.

It rung twice before your voice- on speaker- was played down Morgan’s mic.

“What do you want?”

“Fuck me, wanna be a bit nicer.”

“No, not really…” There was a pause where no one said anything, “Well what do you want, Morgan? I am busy!”

“I love you,” He was trying to bait you.

You laughed loudly- so loud the mic cut out a few times- “Have you drank? Call your girlfriend not me!” You chuckled before hanging up on him.

Ginge stared blankly at his camera, knowing Lando was watching. “Was that enough proof, Lando?”

Lando ignored him, although very satisfied,  “So~ Who’s your girlfriend Ginge?”

—

A few weeks later, Morgan extended another invitation to Monaco, which you eagerly accepted, thrilled at the prospect of a free trip. Upon meeting up at Manchester Airport, Morgan was relentless with his vlogging, capturing every moment up close—from your reunion at the terminal, to boarding the plane, takeoff, the in-flight experience, landing, and even baggage claim. Every opportunity he had, his camera was practically shoved up your nose.

When Lando arrived to pick you both up, Max was also recording, documenting Lando for his own channel. It was impossible to miss—especially for you—the way Lando looked at you with literal heart-eyes as you stepped out of the Nice-Côte d’Azur airport in the south of France.

"Good morning!" you cheerfully greeted, pulling your suitcase behind you with a coffee in hand.

Lando could barely muster a response, causing Max to chuckle behind the camera. Lando's attention was entirely on you during the drive to the hotel, to the point where he nearly crashed.

Your hotel room was charming, featuring a large bed, a stylish bathroom with a huge mirror, and a lovely view of the Monaco streets.

Unsurprisingly, Lando was quick to offer his assistance, suggesting he come up to your room to "help unpack and whatever."

You smiled gratefully as Lando heaved your 15kg case up the flight of stairs to your room, his muscles straining with the effort. "Thanks, Lan," you said, flashing him a warm smile. "I really appreciate it."

"It's nothing, I'd do it all over again for you," he replied, a deep blush creeping up his neck. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "You don't have a boyfriend, right?"

You shook your head, no, and a heavy silence settled between you, tinged with disappointment that he didn't continue to speak.

Lando began helping you put your clothes into the wardrobe, his hands moving deftly until he reached your underwear. Suddenly, he seemed paralyzed, his eyes darting around the room, trying to look anywhere but at the intimate garments.

"Lando, I googled you. I know you're not shy about seeing people's underwear," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

"Hey!" he retorted, his face flushing even redder. "You shouldn't believe everything you see!"

You gave him a pointed look. "You believed I was sleeping with Morgan..."

He huffed in frustration. "Rightly so... I mean I would—" He abruptly stopped, his words hanging in the air.

"What, you'd sleep with Morgan?" you laughed, but the humor faded as you saw the mortified expression on his face. Lando looked utterly flustered, as if he wished the ground would swallow him whole.

You stopped laughing, suddenly aware of the tension. His eyes were wide, nervous, and embarrassed, almost traumatized by what he had just admitted... out loud... in front of the girl he was clearly talking about.

"Oh, right," you said, your voice trailing off. You knew exactly what you wanted to say, but the words caught in your throat. You desperately wanted to kiss him right then and there.

"I—sorry—erm," he stammered, his voice shaky. "I'll talk to you later."

He moved faster than the cars he drove, practically fleeing from your hotel room, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

Later that night, Morgan waited outside your door, poised to dive into the allure of Monegasque nightclubs. You adorned a stunning, shimmering top paired with elegant black trousers, exuding understated glamour. Sharing an Uber, the anticipation built, though Lando was initially nowhere to be found. However, Max had secured a booth, complete with a large pitcher of an enticing orange cocktail, surrounded by a few unfamiliar faces.

One drink in, Lando sauntered over and playfully collapsed into the booth beside you. His hair, slightly tousled, added to his charming dishevelment. Clad in a simple jean-top combo and a watch that undoubtedly cost more than your annual rent, he exuded effortless style. The club thrummed with energy, the pulsating strobe lights and the dance-club remix of Nelly Furtado's "Say It Right" filling the air.

Lando's drunken smile was captivating, his eyes locked onto yours, his skin aglow under the club lights, making him look irresistibly beautiful. "Hi," he murmured dreamily, patting your thigh a few times before resting his hand there.

"Y'alright, Lan?" you asked, amused.

"Y'alright!" he mimicked with a laugh. "I love your voice, your accent, and your face. Such a beautiful face," he slurred.

You laughed, "How many drinks have you had?"

He widened his eyes in response, silently conveying the answer: "a lot."

While the table engaged in lively conversation, Lando's attention remained on you, murmuring your name just to gaze into your eyes, often letting his eyes drift to your lips.

"Why don't you like me?" he suddenly whispered in your ear, his face inches from yours.

"I like you," you replied, confused. He frowned, indicating that wasn't what he meant. "Yeah, I like-like you. I've never said I didn't."

"Like... like you'd hold hands and kiss me?"

You smiled, "Ask me when you're sober."

The next day, you woke with only a slight nausea, the remnants of the night before. As you stepped out of the shower and dressed for the day's filming, a knock echoed through the hotel. Opening the door, you found Lando, holding a bouquet of lilies, a bright smile on his face.

"What are you doing—and how are you not hungover?" you asked, surprised.

"I drink green smoothies... Anyway, I'm here to officially ask you on a real date," he declared, "with me. Right now."

Taking the lilies from his outstretched hands, you nodded. "Yeah—let me dry my hair first, bu—"

Before you could finish, Lando grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of the room, quickly snatching your keycard from the table and shutting the door behind you. "You look beautiful, and I cannot wait any longer to not see you on a date with me. So, we are leaving. Now."

You groaned, feeling the damp ends of your hair.

"Lando!"

[wsoc-gay]

World Cup Results

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: It seems as though you and Ona make big decisions after big matches.

(This was originally going to be longer, but then it became too long. So, instead, I am breaking it into two parts, second will be out soon.)

You and Ona had met during her time playing at Manchester United while you were still at Arsenal. Arsenal was your childhood club you had made your way through the youth system until you finally made your full-team debut at 16. As growing through the Arsenal ranks you also were an up-and-coming player in the England youth system making your international debut at just 17. 

You met Ona when you were 18 after she had first arrived to United, one of your best friends from the National team, Alessia, introduced you two after a match. From that day forward you two were nearly inseparable. For your years in England, it was a relationship full of afternoon drives after training and early morning goodbyes to be back to London in time for the next, but nevertheless you two did it because you truly fell for each other fast.

It was three years later that Ona decided she wanted to return to Barcelona, she wanted you to come with her, but you were hesitant at first. Your whole life was in London all you ever knew was Arsenal, but also you two weren’t public and you weren’t sure about the swarm that would come from it. Your families and friends knew about your relationship, but with how young you both were you wanted to keep it out of the spotlight, you didn’t want the media focused on your relationship over your football. However, after a year of playing in two different countries you decided you had enough a followed her to her home.

You were one of the best players in the world at the time, so it did not take a lot for you to get a contract from the Catalonian club. While you still weren’t saying anything about your relationship to the public fans quickly started to notice the undeniable connection between you two, the walks into matches, the looks during training, Ona always being your first hug after scoring, and everything in between. You slowly started to be less secretive about your relationship until the only thing keeping fans from knowing you were dating was a kissng photo. 

It now was the 2027 World Cup final; you and Ona had been together for 7 years and were now meeting for the second time in a World Cup Final. You hugged and placed a kiss on the short Spaniard’s temple during the prematch pitch inspections, but then went on your way as you both were here for business.

You scored early into the match, just a mere 15 minutes in is when you broke the deadlock. It was a brilliant through ball from Kiera that you were able to calmly finish past Cata, you immediately ran towards the corner flag to celebrate in front of your country’s fans as your teammates chased after you.

It wasn’t long after that Aitana scored the tying goal and brought the game even going into halftime. The speeches weren’t long, both teams knew what they had to do going into the second half. It was tight for the majority of second half, Spain doing what they do well and passing around your team, but you and Kiera used what you’ve learned there to hold them. 

It was the 87th minute that La Reina, herself, scored the winner for Spain. The English team and fans could do nothing but tip their hats to the Spanish captain as it truly was the perfect goal to win a World Cup with, a beautiful passing display starting with their backline which found their captain sitting alone at the top of the box and hit a first time shot perfectly into the top corner. 

As soon as the whistle blew you fell to the ground with your head in your hands sobbing, severely disappointed for now the second time. So close to being on top of the world but failing right at the summit. 

Ona knew better than to come comfort you right away, in the years of you playing together and against she learned that more than comfort at first you simply needed time to yourself. If she were to come over to you now you would’ve just shoved her away and told her to go celebrate. 

It was after the medal ceremonies when she came and found you sitting on the turf knees tucked tight against your chest. She sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you against her chest, “I’m so proud of you, mi amor,” She kissed your head.

Whenever you lost to the brunette, she always followed it up with this comment. She knew better than to apologize for winning as you would never take this from her. You let out a light chuckle, clearly still emotional, “Still can’t quite beat you, can I?”

Ona let out a breath when she heard you laugh, she was hoping to lighten the mood a bit, but didn’t expect for your comment to be the one that did it, “You’ll get to try again in four years, don’t worry.”

You sat up straight and turned so that you were facing he Spaniard, “You know if I can’t win them, I’m glad you’re the one beating me.”

She smiled and her cheeks reddened slightly at the comment. It was true if you weren’t the one winning you were glad the love of your life got to accomplish what was both of your dreams, “I take home the World Cup medals you bring home the Ballon D’ors.”

You laughed again, “I’ll see what I can do about that.” At just 26 years old you had won the last two Ballon D’ors, but you knew as well as anyone that after a World Cup year it would almost inevitably go to one of the winners.

“I think I know what could make you feel better,” You gave her a suggestive look, she leaned into whisper in your ear, “Vamos a tener un bebé.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard and leaned back in shock, “What did you just say?”

Louder and in English this time, “Let’s have a baby.” 

The comment was dropped slightly to the Spaniard’s own surprise. She wasn’t expecting to say it at this time, but she had been thinking it for a while now. It slipped out in the moment of pure joy for her, and she couldn’t imagine a time better than coming off a World Cup win to start their family.

The topic has come up many times throughout your relationship, but always ended on saying that it was something for the future. Ona knew she wanted to carry for you both, but you always settled that it was something for the future, you didn’t want to interrupt the Spaniard’s career. However, there simply was nothing more than either of you wanted than to have a family one day, to get to see your love encompassed into a family. Both of yours love for family was one of the reasons you first fell in love, nothing came before family for either of you and that would one day include a family of your own. 

The conversation on the field quickly was pushed aside as you joined Ona and some of her Spanish teammates on their post-World Cup holiday. It was a vacation full of boats, sun, and many, many, drinks. You all had all agreed it was one of the nicest holidays and breaks from football you had in a while.

After returning from you holiday you both returned to your normal lives of training and preparing for matches. The topic still hadn’t been brought back up until one day after returning from training you noticed Ona was a bit quieter than usual at dinner.

“Is there something bothering you, mi amor? You’re quieter than usual.”

 “No, nothing is wrong,” Ona looked down at her plate as she spoke, in the tone reserved for when she was upset over something. It was quiet, slower, and slightly sharper causing her accent to come through a bit more in her English words.

“Babe, I can tell something is wrong, please tell me,” You were nearly pleading with her now, as your eyes searched her expressions for any details and as your mind raced through the contents of your day in efforts to find what had upset the short brunette.

She continued to look down at her plate, “It’s nothing I promise.”

Ona stood up from the table and collected the plates before walking into the kitchen and over to the sink. She began washing the dishes as you followed her to the kitchen. You stood a few feet away leaning against the counter, you didn’t want to startle the smaller girl by touching her, “Talk to me please, I want to help.”

She kept her focus on washing the dishes and spoke softly as if she was worried for your response, “I just thought we would talk about starting a family soon, but you don’t seem like you want to.”

Ona didn’t look towards you, but saw you freeze as soon as the words left her mouth. She was worried about your response so continued cleaning the dishes as if she hadn’t just dropped the one thing that hadn’t left your mind since the final. 

You walked over to her and gently reached for her chin to turn the Spaniard to face you, “What did you just say?” You said hushed, but sternly.

Ona’s cheeks flushed under your hand, “It’s just that you seemed excited at the final when I brought up having a baby, but you haven’t mentioned it since and I seriously meant it,” She began rambling when you suddenly cut her off with a soft kiss to her lips.

You leaned back slightly enough that she still felt your breath against her lips, “Sounds like were going to have a baby then.”

The shorter woman placed a hand against her chest and leaned back slightly with a big smile plastered against her face. Your free hand found its spot wrapped around her waist you hold her upright, “Really? You want to have a baby?”

You moved your hand holding her chin to the small of her back and pulled her flush against you, “Of course I want to have a baby with you, I didn’t want to bring it up because I didn’t want it to seem like I was pushing you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to put your career on hold for this.”

Ona’s hands found their place around your neck as she leaned into place a kiss to your cheek, “I don’t want to tell our kids stories of us playing, I want them to be able to be there, to be able to experience it themselves.”

You leaned in to passionately kiss her then pulled away with a gleaming smile, “Sounds like were going to have a baby then.”

You began the reciprocal IVF process almost immediately, both of you getting tested and screened to make sure that you both were in good enough health to begin the process. These thankfully all came back with positive results allowing for you to continue forward. 

There was worry and stress looming throughout your house during the early stages of the process. Many nights spent talking through fears and uncomfortable conversations which always ended in you both feeling more optimistic and hopeful.

Ona was there to hold your hand for every injection you took, and you were helping her with everything in the house to give her as little stress as possible. For every appointment she had you were sat right there next to her just as she did for you. You both knew that no matter what you were there for each other, and you’d be okay.

The egg retrieval day was stressful, you were worried about the procedure and weren’t quite fully sure what to expect, but as always Ona was right there for you calming you down as your leg bounced in the waiting room. Once you were in the room and the doctor walked you through what would happen you were much less stressed and more excited than ever to get further in the process.

After the first implantation you had to wait two weeks for the blood test to find out if it had stuck. It was a very anxious two weeks for you two full of trying to find ways to distract yourselves, and of Ona claiming she had symptoms even though you both knew it was too early for that. 

On the fourteenth day you were sat in the waiting room with your knee bouncing like there was no tomorrow. You wanted to be strong for Ona, but you knew you both were just as nervous as one another. The Spaniard was brough back alone at first to get the blood draw, but then was led to the room where you’d wait for the doctor.

Once you were brought back into the room you walked beside the bed your girlfriend laid on and took a hold of her hand. 

You brough the back of her hand to your lips to lay a kiss before you stood to look at her, “If we don’t get the news, we’re hoping for we’ll be okay. I’m still so proud of you and it won’t be your fault.”

Ona had a slight pout on her face and looked up at you with those deep brown eyes you had fallen in love with all those years ago, “I really hope it worked.”

You let up a small smile at her as you leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, “Me too baby, but it’s rare it sticks on the first try. We’ll be okay no matter what, we can try again whenever you’re ready if we have too.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you-”

You cut her off before she could finish, “You could never disappoint me, mi amor. I love you no matter what and I’m right here through it all.”

You both felt like you were drowning under the weight of the anxiety in the room but knew that no matter what either of you would say in that moment nothing could quite calm the nerves you both were feeling. 

You could’ve sworn time had never moved slower, as you stood there waiting for the doctor. There were so many times in your life, on and off the pitch, that you have wished to be able to freeze time and stay in those moments forever, but now more than ever you wished time would pass by sooner. You both wished to escape the anxious feeling deep in your bodies and for the doctor to come in and tell you the words you’ve been awaiting since beginning the process.

You were beginning to zone out, imagining a future with Ona and your family, when suddenly a slight knock on the door led in a woman dressed in a white coat holding a folder, with what you assumed were the results.

You were stood there trying to read the expressionless face of the doctor standing before you, trying to gauge any sense of what she was about to tell you both. “Are you both ready?”

Ona looked up at you, “God, I don’t know if I’m ready.”

You moved your hand to rub it along the side of Ona’s face when the doctor spoke again, “Trust me you want to know.”

Ona’s head whipped around back to the doctor, you swear she could’ve gotten whiplash, “What?”

“Congratulations, you’re officially two weeks pregnant.”

Ona collapsed back onto the bed as tears immediately filled both of your eyes. You had a hand covering your shocked expression, and Ona had one covering her tearful eyes. 

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple, “You did it, mi amor, we’re going to have a baby,” You whispered through tears.

She looked up at you with matching tear-filled eyes, “Lo hicimos, hay un bebé ahí adentro,” You hand found its place on the side of her face as the other one still hasn’t let up its grip on her hand. 

Once you both were recovered enough to refocus on the doctor, she explained further into what expect for the coming weeks and advice on keeping Ona as healthy as possible for the baby.

You listened as closely as possible as you knew you were going to do everything you could for them both, starting now.

[tayfabe75]

"I look out and I'm seeing all these different people from different parts of the world, different backgrounds, we all have different interests, different accents; but still, uh, we wouldn't be in this room together if we didn't have something in common and I think that I know what that is. I think that what we have in common is that when life gets really hard, or when we feel great amounts of pain or when you feel great amounts of joy; we turn to music and that's why we are all here in this place. Speaking of great amounts of pain, from talking to you so much, I've never been so sure that it is treacherous and difficult to be happy in 2015. I think that navigating your life, navigating your self-esteem, your self-image, I think that's harder than it's ever been before. I think it's because every day, and trust me; I love the internet, okay? I love the good parts of the internet, but there's also this dark side of how we are all so, it's so available to us to see the highlight reel of someone else's life. All the pictures of when they look the most awesome, and when they're on some great trip, or they're having the best time ever at a party, and in your own life you're getting a behind-the-scenes, not just the highlight reel, you're seeing when you get out of bed in the morning and you're like, "Oh God, this is not a good hair day. This is not gonna be good today. How are we gonna fix this?" Or you feel like you don't know where you're supposed to go with your life, or you just went through the most horrible sense of rejection, because someone, you know, spread a rumor about you that wasn't true. You're seeing all these angles of your own life, and then you compare it to other people's lives when you don't see what they're going through, you just see the good parts of what they're going through, am I right? And so, I say to you, when you start to compare yourselves to other people, please change the channel in your mind to something else, because I think that when it comes to how we see ourselves, other people are really mean, but we're really mean to ourselves and so it's easy to get confused, and when you do get confused, and you start feeling like you're not special, or you're not different, or you have nothing important to say. We all feel like that sometimes, but what I want you to right now is, if there's one thing you remember from tonight, remember what I'm about to say. You need to look into the mirror in the morning and not tell yourself that you're not special, or you're not good enough, you're not pretty, or you're not awesome. I'm gonna tell you right now the things you actually are not. These are the things you really are not. You are not the opinion of somebody who doesn't know you. You are not damaged goods just because you made mistakes in your life. You are not going nowhere just because you haven't gotten where you want to go yet. Those are the things you actually are not. Now, I want to tell you what you are. You are your own definition of beautiful and worthwhile, that's what you are. You are someone who is wiser because you made mistakes, not damaged, wiser. You are somebody who could be at this moment, right now, sitting there, there, there, there, you are going through whatever you're going through, whatever in your life that's stressing you out, or confusing you, or making you upset. But you got out of bed and put on an awesome outfit, and you came to a concert and now we're all having the best time ever on a Wednesday night. You know it's not about perfection. It's about just getting on with things sometimes. Sometimes you just get credit for getting up and going on with things, and you don't have to do it perfectly. I think that we mistake our mistakes for damage, and we think other people judge us for them, but I want you to know the way that I see mistakes is, they don't make you damaged, they make you clean."

June 24, 2015: Just before performing 'Clean' in Manchester, England, Taylor gives an impassioned speech about how our mistakes do not define us. (source 1, 2)

[pilloclock]

Everyone needs to hear this from last Saturdays Manchester protest 🇵🇸

[infiniteglitterfall]

I guess this might be why the UK seemed to go so antisemitic so quickly

I'm researching the 1947 pogroms in the UK. (Actually, I'm researching all the pogroms and massacres of Jews in the past 200 years. Which today led me to discover that there were pogroms in the UK in 1947.)

From an article on "The Postwar Revival of British Fascism," all emphasis mine:

Given the rising antisemitism and widespread ignorance about Zionism [in the UK in 1947], fascists were easily able to conflate Zionist paramilitary attacks with Judaism in their speeches, meaning British Jews came to be seen as complicit in violence in Palestine.

Bertrand Duke Pile, a key member of Hamm’s League, informed a cheering crowd that “the Jews have no right to Palestine and the Jews have no right to the power which they hold in this country of ours.” Denouncing Zionism as a way to introduce a wider domestic antisemitic stance was common to many speakers at fascist events and rallies. Fascists hid their ideology and ideological antisemitism behind the rhetorical facade of preaching against paramilitary violence in Palestine.

One of the league’s speakers called for retribution against “the Jews” for the death of British soldiers in Palestine. This was, he told his audience, hardly an antisemitic expression. “Is it antisemitism to denounce the murderers of your own flesh and blood in Palestine?” he asked his audience. Many audience members, fascist or not, may well have felt the speaker had a point. ...[The photo of two British sergeants hanged by the Irgun in retaliation for the Brits hanging three of their members] promptly made numerous appearances at fascist meetings, often attached to the speaker’s platform. In at least one meeting, several British soldiers on leave from serving in Palestine attended Hamm’s speech, giving further legitimacy to his remarks. And with soldiers and policemen in Palestine showing increasing signs of overt antisemitism as a result of their experiences, the director of public prosecutions warned that the fascists might receive a steady stream of new recruits.

MI5, the U.K. domestic security service, noted with some alarm that “as a general rule, the crowd is now sympathetic and even spontaneously enthusiastic.” Opposition, it was noted in the same Home Office Bulletin of 1947, “is only met when there is an organized group of Jews or Communists in the audience.”

The major opposition came from the 43 Group, formed by the British-Jewish ex-paratrooper Gerry Flamberg and his friends in September 1946 to fight the fascists using the only language they felt fascists understood — violence. The group disrupted fascist meetings for two purposes: to get them shut down by the police for disorder, and to discourage attendance in the future by doling out beatings with fists and blunt instruments. By the summer of 1947, the group had around 500 active members who took part in such activities. Among these was a young hairdresser by the name of Vidal Sassoon, who would often turn up armed with his hairdressing scissors.

The 43 Group had considerable success with these actions, but public anger was spreading faster than they could counter the hate that accompanied it. The deaths of Martin and Paice had touched a nerve with the populace. On Aug. 1, 1947, the beginning of the bank holiday weekend and two days after the deaths of the sergeants, anti-Jewish rioting began in Liverpool. The violence lasted for five days. Across the country, the scene was repeated: London, Manchester, Hull, Brighton and Glasgow all saw widespread violence. Isolated instances were also recorded in Plymouth, Birmingham, Cardiff, Swansea, Newcastle and Davenport. Elsewhere, antisemitic graffiti and threatening phone calls to Jewish places of worship stood in for physical violence. Jewish-owned shops had their windows smashed, Jewish homes were targeted, an attempt was made to burn down Liverpool Crown Street Synagogue while a wooden synagogue in Glasgow was set alight. In a handful of cases, individuals were personally intimidated or assaulted. A Jewish man was threatened with a pistol in Northampton and an empty mine was placed in a Jewish-owned tailor shop in Davenport.

And an important addendum:

I've read a whole bunch of articles about the pogroms in Liverpool, Manchester, Salford, Eccles, Glasgow, etc.

Not one of them has mentioned that the Irgun, though clearly a terrorist group, was formed in response to 18 years of openly antisemitic terrorism, including multiple incredibly violent massacres. Or that it consistently acted in response to the murders of Jewish civilians, not on the offensive. Or that at this point, militant Arab Nationalist groups with volunteers and arms from the Arab League countries had been attacking Jewish and mixed Arab-Jewish neighborhoods for months.

I just think the "Jewish militants had been attacking the British occupiers" angle is incredibly Anglocentric.

Yeah, they were attacking the British occupiers. But also, that's barely the tip of the iceberg.

Everyone involved hated the Brits at this point. If only al-Husseini and his ilk had hated the Brits more than they hated the Jews, Britain could at least have united them by giving them a common enemy.

[russo-woso]

Would you please do an Esme Morgan x reader, where her teammates are meeting her girlfriend for the first time. Maybe Esme's teammates are prepared to be protective of Esme and give R older sister speechs until it turns out she's just as soft and sweet as Esme.

I told you | Esme Morgan x reader

Summary Esme’s teammates meet you for the first time and realise you’re just as big a softie as Esme is

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“So Es, when are you going to bring your secret girlfriend to meet us?” Alex’s scouse accent filled the food hall as the Man City girls ate their lunch.

“I’ve managed to get her tickets to the match against United next week.” Esme replied and all the girls smiled, knowing they could finally meet you.

You, the girl who Esme couldn’t stop talking about.

“I can’t wait to sit down and talk to her. She best be ready for it. I’m gonna tell her that if she ever hurts you or a single hair on your head, she’s dead. I know I’m known for breaking my own nose, but I’m also just as good as breaking other peoples’ noses.” Alanna spoke up and a light hum of agreement was heard throughout the team.

“She’s dead if she hurts you.” Jill agreed, a stern and serious tone in her voice.

“She is so sweet, please don’t scare her away. She means so much to me. I can’t lose her.” Esme defended, a smile appearing as she thought of you.

“As long as she treats you right, then it’s fine.” Steph added and all the girls nodded in agreement.

“She does, I promise. Tell them, Hempster.” Esme commanded, knowing Lauren had met you since Lauren and Esme shared a house.

“She is. She’s just like Esme.” Lauren stated before adding more in. “They’re perfect for each other.”

“We’ll see.” Alanna

————————

“Hi, baby.” You greeted Esme as she opened the door.

“Hi Y/N bear.” She responded, bringing you in for a hug and a kiss.

“I bought these for you.” You told her, showing her the bouquet of flowers. “And I also bought this for you. I walked past it in tescos and I thought of you.” You explained, showing her the small stuffed teddy bear.

“Thank you so much, baby.” Esme said, nearly in tears at your thoughtfulness. She pecked your lips once more before letting you walk in.

After a movie and cuddles on the sofa, Esme tensed up remembering the conversation with her teammates earlier.

“Y/N, baby, you know you’re coming to my match on the weekend?” Esme started and you hummed in response, pressing a kiss to her head. “I told my teammates and they really want to meet you. Of course, it’s up to you. And you don’t have to give me an answer now but it’s—”

“Es, take a breath, love. It’s fine. I promise. I love you and if getting to love your means I have to go through your teammates, then tell them to bring it on. I love you so much, Esme, and that means that I’d do anything for you.” You told her, stroking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“And by the way, the whole team thinks you’re going to hurt Esme so be prepared.” Lauren laughed as she watched the whole thing from the other couch.

You just looked at Esme, confusion written on your face, as Esme shrugged whispering that she’d explain it to you later.

————————

After an eventful Manchester derby, the nerves started to kick in as you waited to meet all Esme’s teammates.

To city’s luck and pure talent, they won the derby 3-1, managing to get the ball past Mary Earps 3 times.

As soon as the match ended, Esme made her way to you.

“Essy bear, you played so well. I’m so proud of you.” You said, enveloping her in a hug.

“I only played 15 minutes.” Esme pointed out, a smile wide on her face, identical to the one on yours.

“I know but you didn’t let any balls past you.” You told her, taking a piece of grass off her forehead, and kissing the place it was in.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Esme admitted and you rested a hand on her cheek, gently rubbing your thumb over it.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Now where’s them teammates of yours? I’ve been preparing myself to take them on.” You joked and Esme let out a soft giggle, taking your hand in hers as she led you down to the pitch.

“Y/N!” Lauren cheered as she spotted you walking towards the team.

“Hi, Hempster. Well done on the win.” You said to her, bringing her in for a hug.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“Hempster, don’t go stealing my girlfriend now.” Esme warned as you and Lauren still hugged.

Esme tickled your sides as you laughed and clung onto Esme.

“Es, stop it.” You giggled, as Esme planted kisses on your face.

“Why? Can I not kiss my gorgeous girlfriend?” Esme asked, a grin taking over her face.

“Of course you can but not when you’re all sweaty.” You said, placing a final kiss on her lips.

The whole team watched from afar, realising that they were all wrong about their thoughts.

You really were another Esme.

“Gonna introduce her, Es?” Chloe asked, and Esme nodded.

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is the team.” Esme introduced you and you smiled at the whole team.

“Hi everyone. I’ve been so excited to meet you all. Esme’s constantly talking about all of you and it’s so nice to finally get to meet the people she’s been talking about. Congratulations on the win as well. It was such an exciting match to watch.” You said, a smile on your face the whole entire time.

“Maybe I won’t be breaking your nose any time soon. It’s nice to meet, Y/N.” Alanna greeted and your eyebrows furrowed at her statement.

“Breaking my nose?” You asked, confused.

“I thought you were gonna be some drug dealing alcoholic that was gonna break Esme’s heart.” Alanna explained casually and you nodded in understanding.

“I can assure you that I’m not. And before you all have talks with me, I’m not going to hurt Esme. I’d rather die than ever hurt Esme. Esme is my whole heart, I couldn’t be without her.” You told them all as Esme’s heart warmed.

“I couldn’t be without you either, Y/N.” Esme said, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Right, we get it. You two are madly in love. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N, welcome to the team.”

“I told you she was another Esme.” Lauren spoke up, grinning at her teammates.

You had a huge smile on your face, and so did Esme.

You had been welcomed into the team although you couldn’t kick a ball to save your life.

And Esme was so happy that you had been accepted by her family, and the fact that she had you in her life.

[machveil]

I woke up at like 6am and the first thing that came to mind was Simon w/ a partner who doesn't speak English natively, so sometimes they mispronounce things, he helps, of course

However because of this, they get his accent by accident because obviously they try to mimic how he pronounces things

Which is with his own accent

So now they just sound like they're from Manchester

oh god— haha, all I can imagine is Simon thinking you’re mocking him at first until he realizes ‘oh no— what have I done’

not only do you pick up Simon’s accent, you pick up his slang and dialect. he doesn’t realize it at first until he takes you to meet the 141 boys. you’re talking to Price and Gaz when Johnny elbows Simon. he’s got a smirk on his lips as he tells Simon you sound like him - maybe you’ve also picked up on his mannerisms when he speaks

Simon is happy that he can help you practice pronunciations and learn different words… but sometimes his speech is naturally slurred and rough so he’s not the best person to properly learn from

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Felix Catton Headcanons

Meaning how your relationship with Felix gestated overtime & what he is like.

Summary: Farleigh looks over in your and Felix's direction and rolls his eyes over, "You guys are positively nauseating."

WC: 2.7k

Warnings: language, sexual allusions

————————————

-he had first seen you in a bar, in the beginning of the first year, guffawing with the group of your friends and doing shots. He instantly thought you extremely adorable, a small little smile making its way on his face as he watched your for the protracted moment, but he dismissed these thoughts — he knew a lot of pretty girls, he could get over it somehow;

-the second time he caught a glimpse of you, a longer one this time, was during the classes which you both happened to share. It so turned out that your were also majoring in English literature and sitting in the front row, showing off your stellar knowledge which didn’t fail to stun him every time you raised your hand. Felix didn’t consider himself a layman in the field of literature, heck, he even spent far too much sitting in the Saltburn library, rifling through the literary classics for literal hours (Farleigh and Venetia would even tease him about that for being a ‘nerd,’ but that’s beside the point). When you spoke up, however, it was somehow some pundit knowledge that your were offering, like the [sic] notion or the free indirect speech digression, which was just a wowie in his eyes. So you were adorable and smart. And that impressed Felix which didn’t happen with the other adorable girls that he had met. He felt intrigued;

-a few weeks elapsed, your reputation never waning in Felix’s eyes, and he spotted you seated with your clique again some random Friday night. Before he knew it, he was already making his way to your table and inviting you over to sit with his group of friends which appeared to have thrown you off a little for a moment. But then you quickly recovered from a momentary daze and you recognized him as the guy from your class; you agreed, obviously. During that night, Felix managed to learn a lot about you: your hobbies, a bit of your familial background which proved to be very similar to his own, your scrabbles to chalk up a scholarship, morsels on your opinion of Manchester United’s last game, etc. Should he be intimidated by your over-ambitions? Probably. Was he going to care? Nah, he is Felix Catton, the heck;

-overtime, the both of you started hanging out a lot with one another. You would often stumble upon each other in the pub, then devote literal hours to talking to one another and getting to know each other better, but at last you would start arranging some meet-ups on your own. For example, both of you just loved studying together, with you nestled in between Felix's legs (friends do that, right?) while you both read some coursebook or what. Felix would frequently ask you to explain something to him pertaining to English literature, not because he didn't know or didn't understand, but because he just loved watching you so vivacious, so passionate about the subject; the way your eyes would lit up, smart words rolling out of your perfect little mouth, and how you would seem genuinely happy that you could freely speak about your literary fixations;

-from time to time, Felix would also try to flirt with you, not in the conspicuous way, but he would surely make a point of complimenting you on a daily basis, like how much he loved your barnet today, how cute he though your outfit was, or how much he loved your smile or your dimples when you did. You would then get so flustered, every damn time, with a blush covering your cheeks. It was the favorite sight of Felix's;

-as much as this thought made him nervous, Felix finally decided to ask you on a date after some excruciating weeks of pretending to be just friendly (he loved spending time with you in a friendly way too, don’t get me wrong, but let’s be honest here queen — he wanted to kiss your lips so badly already; he was obsessed with you and your Cupid’s bow, it drove him mad. Mad!);

-he needed to find some idiosyncratic way to ask you out though, Felix would never settle for some plain “go out with me?” flowers. He mused on it for a long time and then finally figured — he will get you the Penguine Classics edition of your favorite book, the one you had been telling him about for the past few weeks now; you had never seemed to get a hold of the book though, with the limited supply of inventory in the bookstores around the Oxford campus. Oh well, Felix will find his way around the problem, be sure of that;

-he got the aforementioned book within two days and… let’s just leave the man up to his own devices but, boy!, was it a slog to get it. Once all set, he promptly scampered to your dorm, not even being able to contain himself for the next day or so, then bought a bouquet of sunflowers seeing as you have told him that these were your favorite flowers, and went searching for you all over. He eventually found you seated in the library, hunched over "Gone with the Wind," and so deeply lost in a brown study that you didn't even notice Felix approaching until he finally grunted as he stood in front of your table. You first smiled at him, ready to greet him, but then noticed a bunch of items in his hands and your countenance momentarily twisted in astonishment. "Is that for me?" you asked at which he nodded. With a perfect smile making its way on your lips again, you took the items from him and, at discerning your favorite book which you had been blabbing so long about, you literally squeaked. With way too much ebullience, you opened the book and your gaze landed on the little loopy inscription within;

-you read the inscription in the book (“date?”) and your face contorted in confusion at which Felix’s heart fell — were you going to refuse him now? This sinking feeling continued for a couple of seconds until finally alleviated by your beam with the cute little blush and the coy “yes” uttered from your mouth. He lifted you up and spun in the air, grinning maniacally, while you giggled at him softly;

-after a date, both of you started dating. Officially. Once the news was spread around the campus, it was accompanied by a myriad of different reactions to it — some applauded the relationship, calling you the perfect match; some girls, smitten with Felix, only threw you envious looks, yet nothing beyond, etc. Farleigh, on the other hand, merely shrugged and produced “fucking knew it,” then promptly returned to his drink and carried on with a conversation he had had with someone before (he’d always been catty, don’t take it personally);

-believe it or not, but Felix was in fact a perfect human being, hence a perfect boyfriend — he literally showered you with gifts (eg books, jewelry, flowers), for it was probably his way of indicating how much you mean to him and although you had told him that it was alright, that you loved him and didn’t need to be constantly won over or whatever, he shrugged it off and kept doing it anyway;

-the man was very PDA-ish; he would make sure and surely find his way to touch you somehow, somewhere, anywhere, should it be fidgeting with your fingers (he just LOVED playing with the rings on your hand), brushing your hair, holding his hand on your lower back or around the waist, just for others to know that you were his, only his, and that no one should even dare looking in your direction — get a hint, he’s extremely possessive, especially when it comes to you which you found very sweet. And securing in a way — he was always there to protect you;

-dating Felix also entangled spending with him 24/7, especially since you also shared classes together; Felix would go above and beyond to orchestrate your time together: study dates, going around Oxford shopping, pub get-togethers with your friends, park strolls, or movie nights. While at first it came off as a little surprising to everyone that the two of you would go around literally everywhere, especially seeing that you had been pretty self-sufficient in the past, but overtime it became customary that inviting you over also equated to inviting Felix over and vice versa. You were in a relationship now, thus a unity I guess;

-you mostly spent time in his dorm and despite having your own, you still slept in his room. Hear me out, hear me out -- it was due to a number of reasons: the softness of Felix's (100% cotton from Harrods and omg you could just lay in his bed for another century or so), the lingering scent of Felix's cologne on his bedding, or even the simple fact that Felix's room reminded you of your shared time and how much you loved spending every second with him -- especially with the polaroids of you and him strewn about the room. Also, should I mention that Felix was such a cuddler during the night, totally crossing the margin of personal space, not that you minded of course; he particularly loved being a big spoon because he then felt like he protected you from the rest of the world which was probably his masculine achievement of some kind lmao. Nonetheless, he also wouldn't mind being held by you from time to time, he found it extremely adorable and that provided him with a better access to smelling your heady perfume which he was in as much love in as with you;

-sweet little habits and gestures that you had in your relationship? Too effing many: slipping each other notes during the classes and complimenting on one another (Felix: "You ass awful sexy in that skirt;" You: "Shut up, I love you"), wearing Felix's clothes, making each other breakfast, reading poetry to one another, taking an occasional road trip as a date (you especially loved the one when he took you near the lake and you went skinny dipping; why? it was a blistering day, let's go with that), cooking together (not that's any successful heh), art classes together, etc. Since you were much shorter than Felix, you sometimes had a problem of keeping up with his long strides and so he would make a point of piggybacking you while you meantime brushed his hair or hugged him closely. Other times, Felix would hold you by your waist or snake an arm around your shoulder, anything to make you feel secure. Felix just loved the though of being your safety resort;

-attention attention: Felix did not only look like some literal Greek god but he also acted like one. One day, no specific occasion just... Felix I guess, he surprised you with a picnic under your favorite oak tree sequestered from the prying eyes of the students and with a perfect vantage view on the sunset. He fetched a blanket and packed the picnic basket with the romcom cliche items like wine, grapes, strawberries in chocolate, poetry, etc. However, he also took a guitar which initially confused you but he then went on explaining that he wanted to teach you how to play (in parenthesis, you hadn't even known he played but whatever). Hence you squandered a couple of hours learning how to play and let's just say you could strum "Riptide" at the end of the night, or at least partially;

-despite Felix’s sweet nature, he also knew how to take his time with you in the bedroom. He was such a tease. He adored watching you squirm underneath him, pleading him, whining, bawling his name when he didn't give you what you wanted until he finally finally(!) did; you would then emit a lewd moan which would both excite and galvanize Felix, seeing the effects he had on you. Depending on the mood, he could be either slow and sedulous, or he could be quick and passionate but it really pivoted on how you felt (he would do anything for you, more then he would care to admit). Felix especially loved doing it in his bedroom, for no one would dare to interrupt you there and he would relish watching you strip to your little black lacy lingerie and... oh boy, he would make you come countless times; he didn't mind doing it in the other places though as well, like a pub loo or even against the wall in some discrete alley but again it depended of you and your mood;

-matching tattoos! Call it irrational or whatever, but the thought of having the same tattoo as Felix (two little stars on your wrists) was too appealing of an idea to resist. Everyone seemed to love this idea, barring Farleigh who only rolled his eyes at that, but as I've said -- let's just ignore him, he loved the two of you [you and Felix] anyways and was just too proud to admit it;

-Felix literally pestered you to come over to Saltburn during the summer holidays which you questioned at first — what was his family going to think, were they going to like you, would you fit in...? But Felix dismissed your questions, only uttering something that "you don't have to worry about anything." Finally coaxed, you made your way to the English suburbs where Saltburn resided and soon enough you were facing a big-ass castle which Felix called "home." You had been hearing about the grandioseness of Saltburn beforehand but the reality surpassed your expectations far off and, all of the sudden, you could feel the heat creeping in your chest at the thought of entering the threshold of the mansion. Before you had time to plan your decamping, however, Felix was already snatching you from the entrance while constantly kissing you and reassuring that everything was okay and that should you need anything, he would be always there for you;

-Felix's mom, Elspeth, instantly fell in love with you. She walked over before you even had the time to properly introduced yourself, and muttered, "Oh, aren't you just gorgeous? No wonder why Felix talks about you so much" (at which Felix groaned "Mom!," making you giggle). You then shook hands with James, Felix's father, who gave you merely a nod of acknowledgment with a stiff smile, but you didn't expect much more if being honest. Venetia, on the other hand, turned out to be as lovely as her mom and she promptly embraced you as a family member while you chatted carelessly for the rest of the evening;

-Saltburn moments: spending loads of time in Felix's bed (again, you had your own room but let's be frank here -- what for?), drunken tennis, reading "Harry Potter" naked in the middle of the field, hours and hours spent at the pool since it was scorching, fancy family soirees and dinners...;

-one time when you were stargazing during one of those summer nights in Saltburn, Felix’s head on your stomach as you both laid, Felix stated matter-of-factly: “You know, I’m going to marry you one day.”

You grinned, lifting your head off the grass, but still not ceasing to brush his hair with your fingers. “Oh, yeah?”

“Don’t laugh, I’m being perfectly serious.” And he was. You looked at him now and your amused grin dissipated upon seeing the solemnity of his expression.

“And what makes you think that I would have agreed?”

Instead of answering immediately, he took your hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing each of your fingers separately, slowly, showing that he cares. That it matters. “Because I love you,” he said in between the kisses. “And you love me, hopefully.” He eyed your now-amazed face and a small smile began dancing on his lips. “So I couldn’t imagine it otherwise. It has been always you and me. It will always be you and me.”

“You and me,” you repeated blindly, hypnotized, a blush creeping on your visage now while eyes cavorting with merriment.

And he didn’t lie. He proposed at the end of the summer.