#RIC Barracks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aoawarfare · 9 months

Text

Recap of the Anglo-Irish Treaty

The Anglo-Irish Treaty is a very controversial document that sparked the Irish Civil War. But how was it created and what did it actually do?

Truce

A truce between Britain and the IRA was declared on July 11th, 1921. According to the truce, the British agreed to:

Stop the raids and searches

Restrict military activity to support police during their normal duties

Remove the curfew restrictions

Suspend reinforcements from England

Replace the RIC with the Dublin Metropolitan Police

The IRA agreed to

Avoid provocative displays

Prohibit the use of arms

Cease military maneuvers

The IRA released a bulletin, announcing the truce which added additional terms. The British also agreed to:

No incoming troops or munitions

No military movements

No pursuit of Irish officers or men or war material

No secret agents spying

No pursuit of lines of communication

The IRA agreed to:

No attacks on crown forces and civilians

No provocative displays of forces

No interference with government or private property

No disturbing of the peace

Neither side was happy. The British claimed that waving the Sinn Fein flag was provocative and that they had to exert all discipline while the Irish didn’t have to. GHQ complained that according to the treaty the military couldn’t move freely in Ireland. After several disagreements, the British backed down and recalled its forces into their barracks. Meanwhile the IRA believed this was a temporary truce and continued to recruit, drill, and prepare for the resumption of war.

For DeValera, the preliminary negotiations were a chance to reassert himself as the leader of the Dail and Irish liberation.

Preliminary Negotiations

DeValera and an Irish delegation which comprised of Arthur Griffith, Austin Stack, Robert Barton, Count Plunkett, and Erskine Childers traveled to London on July 12th to begin preliminary discussions with Lloyd George. Dev would meet with Lloyd George 4 times between July 14th and the 21st. Lloyd George’s proposal was to turn Ireland into a Dominion but they would have no navy, no hostile tariffs, and no coercion of Ulster. Dev refused, saying that “Dominion status for Ireland would never be real. Ireland’s proximity to Britain would not allow it to develop as dominions thousands of miles away could.” Even though Dev rejected his proposal, Lloyd George continued to honor the truce and Dev returned to Dublin.

DeValera had a proposal of his own, known as Document No. 2 or External Associations, a point of controversy. This document proposed that Ireland would not be a Dominion but it would still have associations with England. When he explained it to Erskine Childers and Robert Brennan, he drew five circles inside a large circle. The large circle was England and the other circles were the Dominions it currently ruled. He then drew a circle outside of the big circle but connecting it and that was supposed to be Ireland. Unfortunately, he was either never able to properly explain his plan to his fellow Irishmen or the British cabinet or it was simply too much for people. Many of the diehard republicans found it baffling or a betrayal and the British couldn’t see how it was different from having an alliance with an independent state (and thus unacceptable). He formally shared this document with his cabinet on July 27th, but refused to share it with Lloyd George, fearing that it would be too revealing if sent to the British in its current form. It seems that Dev wanted to keep it as a compromise he might ultimately accept but wanted to see how far they could push the British before being forced to offer a compromise of their own. He sent a formal reply to Lloyd George rejecting Dominion status with a vague description of his external association plan. The British and Irish agreed to continue negotiations. A new team was to be created to represent Ireland. A team Dev refused to be a member of.

The Irish Delegation

The Irish cabinet met once more on September 9th to discuss who would go negotiate on Ireland’s behalf. This is maybe one of the most controversial moments in a rather controversial process and war. When the cabinet met that day, they were met by DeValera’s bombshell that he would not lead the Irish delegation. Additionally, he required that all of Britain’s offers be reviewed by the Dail before the Irish delegation made any agreements.

The second point of controversy was whether the goal of the negotiations was to walk away with a republic or if it was to walk away with any level of independence from Britain. Lloyd George had already made it clear that Britain would never accept a republic or full Irish independence. But where did the Irish stand?

For the entirety of the war, Dev’s title had been President of the Dail Eireann, and was changed to the President of the Irish Republic on August 26th. Was that a signal that the Republic was the goal or a formality? Members like Brugha and Mary MacSwiney were under the impression that either the British promised to recognize an Irish Republic or it was back to war. Yet, Michael Collins went on record saying that “the declaration of a Republic by the leaders of the rising was far in advance of national thought” and MacSwiney accosted Harry Boland and his and Dev’s perceived lack of commitment to a republic, and warned him to "please leave your Dual Monarchy nonsense behind you. Our oaths are to the Republic or nothing less.” Dev didn’t help at all by refusing to provide any sort of guidance to the delegation and it seems that, if Dev truly believed the republic or the External Association idea was ideal for Ireland, he never told the members of the delegation.

Finally, to make matters worse, Dev was sending the delegation as plenipotentiaries, who technically should have full powers to handle negotiations, but Dev crippled their powers by requiring that they refer back to the cabinet for major questions and with "the complete text of the draft treaty about to be signed". However, the British assumed they were normal plenipotentiaries and could not, as Viceory Lord FitzAlan told Lloyd George, “take advantage of De Valera’s absence to delay and refer back to him”

The cabinet protested Dev’s proposal strenuously, but Dev persisted and despite all this ambiguity and disbelief that Dev would not go to London, the cabinet approved the following appointments:

Arthur Griffith who would be Chairman

Michael Collins

Robert Barton, the minister of economic affairs

Eamonn Duggan, a lawyer and chief liaison officer for implementing the truce

George Gavan Duffy, another lawyer and Dail’s envoy to Rome

And Erskine Childers, Fionan Lynch, Diarmund O’Hegarty, and John Chartres as a secretaries.

DeValera dismissed Duggan and Duffy as mere legal padding, but hoped that Barton would be stubborn enough to limit the amount of compromises the Irish would have to make and trusted Childers to serve as a source of strength for Barton. Dev seems to have ignored the fact that Griffith despised Childers.

Their instructions were to negotiate and conclude a treaty of settlement, association, and accommodation between Ireland and the community of nations known as the British Commonwealth.

Treaty Negotiations

The Irish delegation arrived in London on October 8th (Collins would arrive on October 10th) and took residence at 22 Hans Place and 15 Cadogan Gardens in Kensington. The Irish representatives had accreditations that said they were negotiating on the behalf of an Irish Republic, but the British never asked to see them and Griffith never offered them, so Britain never knew it had indirectly recognized the Republic’s existence.

The first meeting took place on October 11th, at 10 Downing Street. The Irish were facing the likes of

David Lloyd George

Winston Churchill, Secretary of State for the Colonies

Lord Birkenhead, Lord Chancellor

Austen Chamberlain, Lord of the House of Commons

Sir Laming Worthington-Evans BT, Secretary of State for War

Sir Gordon Hewart, Attorney General

And Sir Hamar Greenwood, chief Secretary for Ireland

It cannot be denied the British team was more experienced and were better prepared than the Irish. They also had the benefit of being in agreement that a republic was out of the question and the goal was to get the Irish to agree to a Dominion status. They had a document all written up outlying their proposal whereas the Irish had Dev’s vague external association document and his unconnected thoughts about Ulster’s future. Yet despite their formidable reputation and skills, all were not cozy in the British delegation. For one thing, it was missing a very important player in British politics at the time: Bonar Law, the man who nearly pushed the Conservatives to civil war during the 1912 crisis and the man who would lead the Tory revolt against this very treaty that ended Lloyd George’s career. Lloyd George also had the extreme pressure from Ulster not to give an inch when it came to the Ulster exception.

David Lloyd George

[Image Description: A black and white photo of a blonde haired, white man with a thick mustache that takes over his entire lip. He is facing the camera. He is wearing a white button down shirt with a grey tie and and a grey suit]

The delegation would meet seven times between October 11th and 24th while also breaking out into three different committees: the Committee on Naval and Air Defense, the Committee on Financial Relations and the Committee on the Observance of the Truce, which consisted of members from both delegations. These committees would meet between October 12th to November 10th. After October 24th, the negotiations would be conducted through sub-conference, which met 24 times in various locations until the signing of the treaty on December 6th.

Because of the complex nature of the Irish-British relationship, a lot of time would be spent trying to figure out Irish fiscal autonomy. However, the two points that caused the most trouble between the negotiating parties was Ireland’s unity and allegiance to the Crown.

In regard to Ulster, Lloyd George had already promised the Unionists that Ulster would not be coerced and effectively recognized partition as the only solution. Lloyd George proposed creating an Ulster parliament and a boundary commission to determine the borders of the new states. Collins and Griffith hated the compromise because it was partition, but Lloyd George warned them that if they didn’t agree he would be forced to resign and they’d be facing Bonar Law, a British politician even more opposed to Irish interest than Lloyd George. They grudgingly agreed.

The nature of Ireland’s relations to the crown was a thornier problem since the Irish wanted complete legal sovereignty and the British demanded an oath of loyalty. For the British the oath represented a desperate symbol of control as they lost a part of their empire. For the Irish the oath was a literal vow of subjugation. Griffith and Collins were quick to understand that symbols meant nothing if Ireland could be guaranteed real power over her own destiny. He believed that the treaty was a stepping stone to further independence for Ireland. Put another way, what power would Britain truly have over Ireland if Ireland had an Irish government, Irish police force, Irish Army, and Irish courts?

Michael Collins and Arthur Griffith

[Image Description: A picture of two white men in suits. The man on the left is leaning to the left. He is a white man with brown hair. He is wearing a white button down shirt and a black tie with small dots. he is wearing a dark grey vest and a light grey suit. The man on the right is sitting straight with his hand in his lap. He is white with brown hair, a thick brown mustache, and round, wire frame glasses. He is wearing a white, button down shirt, a light tie, and a dark suit with black lapels]

The negotiations dragged on, pushing Lloyd George to the brink of despair. The British delegation split the Irish delegation in half and worked mostly with Griffith and Collins, creating great disgruntlement in the Irish camp. This would spell disaster for Collins and Griffith when they returned to Ireland. Fed up, Lloyd George sent the Irish an ultimatum: either they sign the treaty as it stands or refuse to sign and resume the war.

The Irish delegation was badly split. Griffith, Collins, and Duggan were in favor of the treaty while Barton and Gavan Duffy were against the treaty. Lloyd George put the pressure on the Irish delegation, claiming that he was preparing to tell Craig, his cabinet, and parliament that the negotiations had broken down. For their part, the Irish delegation was in constant communication with DeValera, insisting he come to London now and help them, but he refused. Lloyd George first got Griffith to agree to the treaty, which then forced the other Irish delegates to follow suit. The Irish delegation returned to 10 Downing Street and signed the treaty at 2:10 am on December 6th.

What exactly did they sign? In the end the treaty promised nothing that wasn’t part of the proposal prepared in July. Its main clauses were as follows:

Crown forces would withdraw from most of Ireland.

Ireland was to become a self-governing dominion of the British Empire, a status shared by Australia, Canada, Newfoundland, New Zealand and the Union of South Africa.

As with the other dominions, the King would be the Head of State of the Irish Free State (Saorstát Éireann) and would be represented by a Governor General

Members of the new free state’s parliament would be required to take an Oath of Allegiance to the Irish Free State. A secondary part of the oath was to “be faithful to His Majesty King George V, His heirs and successors by law, in virtue of the common citizenship”.

Northern Ireland (which had been created earlier by the Government of Ireland Act) would have the option of withdrawing from the Irish Free State within one month of the Treaty coming into effect.

If Northern Ireland chose to withdraw, a Boundary Commission would be constituted to draw the boundary between the Irish Free State and Northern Ireland.

Britain, for its own security, would continue to control a limited number of ports, known as the Treaty Ports, for the Royal Navy.

The Irish Free State would assume responsibility for a proportionate part of the United Kingdom’s debt, as it stood on the date of signature.

The treaty would have superior status in Irish law, i.e., in the event of a conflict between it and the new 1922 Constitution of the Irish Free State, the treaty would take precedence.

Irish Reaction

While the Treaty was celebrated in England and Lloyd George considered it a massive victory, the reaction in Ireland was quite different. DeValera refused to read the treaty and when it was published in the newspaper, he was furious it had been published without his review or approval. He publicly announced he could not “recommend the acceptance of this treaty”. Many IRA soldiers were confused and upset over the treaty’s terms, especially the oath of loyalty to the king. They couldn’t believe Collins would agree to this kind of treaty. DeValera planned to request the resignation of the three plenipotentiary members who were also in the cabinet: Collins, Griffith, and Barton, but Cosgrave convinced him to hear them out first.

Most of the military high command were in favor of ratifying the treaty, providing their reasoning during the private Dail debates on December 17th and 20th. Sean MacEoin reported that he had five hundred Volunteers and enough ammunition for seven minutes of fighting and that the British would wipe them out. Eoin O’Duffy agreed and Sean Hales, MacEoin, and O’Duffy pointed out that the intelligence situation had drastically changed as well. During the second meeting all the officers who made up GHQ and were members of the Dail and several who held commands in the country agreed that resuming the war would only end in disaster for the IRA.

Mulcahy sent out one of his many memos insisting that the army should stay out of politics and since it was an instrument of the state, it should have no opinion on public affairs. However, there were emergencies in which the State must consult with the Army heads and there were questions the army was entitled to answer. He did not believe the IRA could win militarily if the treaty was rejected and war resumed.

Griffith and Collins were under no illusions of what waited for them in London. Collins even wrote on the day he signed the Treaty:

“When you have sweated, toiled, had mad dreams, hopeless nightmares, you find yourself in London’s streets, cold and dank in the night air. Think – what have I got for Ireland? Something which she has wanted these past seven hundred years. Will anyone be satisfied at the bargain? Will anyone? I tell you this: early this morning I signed my death warrant. I thought at the time how old, how ridiculous – a bullet may just as well have done the job five years ago.” - Ronan Fanning, Fatal Path

On December 8th, the cabinet met with Collins, Barton, Griffith, and Cosgrave stating they would recommend approval of the Treaty to the Dail. De Valera, Brugha, and Stacks opposed them. They decided that the president would issue a press statement defining the position of the minority and that the Dail would hold public sessions on December 14th. During his statement Dev made it clear that he was opposed to the Treaty, starting the Dail debates on an even rockier foot and making himself the lightning rod for everyone who wanted to reject the Treaty.

The public debates broke down to two camps, the treatyites and the anti-treatyites. Those who supported the Treaty argued that the IRA had done all it could militarily do and to continue the war would be a disaster. They argued that the goal was never to drive the British to the sea but to break down that prestige which the enemy derived from his unquestionable superior force. To believe otherwise was fantasy. Collins offered his steppingstone argument and Hales argued that this was a jumping off point, and in a year or ten, Ireland will have freedom. Collins even told Hales in private that “the British broke the Treaty of Limerick [which ended the Jacobite war in 1691] and we’ll break this Treaty too when it suits us, when we have our own army.”

The Anti-treatyites refused or were unable to see Collins’ logic that this was the best they could do for now. Many did not want to accept partition, remain a part of the British empire, and especially despised the oath. And there were those in the middle, who looked to their comrades for an explanation or opinion on what to do. The problem for the anti-treatyites is that they didn’t have an alternative to offer. De Valera tried to introduce his external association idea, but it died in the water and while the anti-treatyites were full of principle, they had little else. For the treatyites it was all about accepting this limited victory in order to achieve a bigger one. As Collins put it this Treaty didn’t give the ultimate freedom, but “the freedom to achieve that end” and Mulcahy would say it provided a “solid spot of ground on which the Irish people can put its political feet.”

The Dail took a recess during Christmas and during this time, public opinion, the press, and the Church swung towards accepting the treaty. While the anti-treatyites would ignore or dismiss how the people felt, the treatyites used it to support their cause. As Christmas passed (the first Christmas Ireland had not been at war one way or another since 1914), the Dail reconvened and the attacks became increasingly personal which the Freeman’s Journal denouncing DeValera as lacking the ‘instinct of an Irishman in his blood’ and Dev accused Griffith of crookedness, and Brugha claimed that Collins was a hack who deliberately sought notoriety and had been built up as a heroic figure which he was not.

On January 7th, the final vote was taken and the Dail approved the Treaty by 64 to 57. De Valera resigned as president of the Dail Eireann on January 9th and stood for re-election. On January 10th, DeValera was defeated in the vote for the Dail presidency by 60-58 votes. He and all anti-Treaty deputies walk out, “as a protest against the election as President of the Irish Republic of the Chairman of the delegation, who is bound by the Treaty conditions to set up a state which is to subvert the republic.”

Griffith was elected President of Dáil Éireann. The Dáil was adjourned until 11 February. On January 14th the provisional government was established with Collins as Chairman.

The stage was set for Civil War

References

The Republic: The Fight for Irish Independence by Charles Townshend, 2014, Penguin Group

Fatal Path: British Government and Irish Revolution 1910-1922 by Ronan Fanning, 2013, Faber & Faber

Richard Mulcahy: From the Politics of War to the Politics of Peace, 1913-1924 by Padraig O Caoimh, 2018, Irish Academic Press

A Nation and Not a Rabble: the Irish Revolution 1913-1923 by Diarmaid Ferriter, 2015, Profile Books

Fatal Path: British Government and Irish Revolution 1910-1922 by Ronan Fanning

#irish war of independence #Ireland #Irish history #Irish Civil War #Anglo-Irish Treaty #Michael Collins #Eamon DeValera #history blog #queer historian #queer podcaster #Spotify #podcast episode

1 note · View note

thewashingtoncountyauditor · 3 years

Text

Ric Grenell: 'We Have A Shadow President In Susan Rice' (VIDEO)

Ric Grenell: ‘We Have A Shadow President In Susan Rice’ (VIDEO)

Ric Grenell: ‘We Have A Shadow President In Susan Rice’ (VIDEO) “This is a problem for the Democratic Party. The foreign policy mess that they are creating is a mess because they are placating the far-left domestically. It’s part of that cancel culture. “They’re beating up on Israel because it pleases the far-left. They are trying to reach out to Iran and pretend like the Iranian regime should…

View On WordPress

4 notes · View notes

theirishaesthete · 3 years

Text

RIC (Ruins in Connaught)

The remains of an RIC Barracks at Islandeady, County Mayo. The building dates from the first half of the 19th century when constructed on a plot provided for the purpose by local landlord Sir William Palmer who lived at Castle Lacken, today also a ruin. Of two storeys and three bays, the barracks is a handsome structure, with the focus on its cut-limestone doorcase. There is a small yard to the…

View On WordPress

#Architectural History #Barracks #County Mayo #Heritage at Risk #Islandeady

2 notes · View notes

josiecarioca · 4 years

Text

“Let´s misbehave”- Chapter 1: “House rules”

Also available at AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379752/chapters/53468791

Requested by @viper-official / @victoriaholmeswriting with thanks to @snapecentric-vanishingdot for the suggestions.

For @viper-official @madshelily @snapescapades

Warning: lemon/ n.s.f.w

Doolin, Summer of 1999.

Severus didn´t exactly expect it to be smooth sailing and blue skies, but bloody hell it was quite more than he had bargained for.

Evelyn had given him fair warning. She had told him her mother could be rather...difficult. He hadn´t thought much of it. Parents and their grown children didn´t always see eye to eye and Severus knew both Evelyn and her mum had big personalities, So, he thought, it was natural that they disagreed and even clashed here and there.

He was made aware that Evelyn´s mother wasn´t too keen on the idea of her dating anybody non Irish and non Catholic, which was something he could, up to a point, understand. Sophia Black´s grandfather had fought in the Irish War of Indepence so, no doubt she wasn´t told any fairytales about genteel English queens and princes growing up. He still found it a bit odd that for all her flag waving nationalism, Sophia had married the son of Englishman Marius Black, but the heart wants wat the heart wants.

All and all, Severus Snape arrived in Doolin ready to face off a harmless Irish catholic widow who would probably be a bit grumpy about his presence in her house and that would be it. He could even picture her, knitting by the window or tending to her roses while going on about “children these days” and “the state of the world”.

Hardly a fearsome adversary.

Evelyn´s warnings that her mother was a “force to be reckoned with” were probably just the benign, humorous exaggeration of a daughter who had a few differences with her loving but strict mother. Nothing to worry about.

Merlin, was he wrong.

He hadn´t found a harmless grandmother spouting casually conservative platitudes, as he expected. Sophia Black , all of 5 feet of her (with heels on, it should be noted), was surprisingly intimidating.

She welcomed them at the door, blonde hair coiffed à la Kim Novak in “Vertigo”, single string of pearls around her neck, matching earrings, wearing a crisp powder blue shirtwaist dress and white court shoes. She stood perfectly upright, chin up, hands clasped in front of her, like an illustration from an ettiquette manual. Severus could immediately tell who had taught (or rather trained) Evelyn how to dress, walk, sit and do her make up. Evelyn had probably failed the lessons on how to look down her nose at people upon first meeting, though.

Evelyn looked almost nothing like her mother, except for the fact that both were beautiful women.

Evelyn was a tall, buxom brunette while Sophia was a short, svelte blonde. But while she obviously favoured her father´s side of the family n looks, it was clear where Lyn had gotten her confidence and aplomb, not to mention the perfect set of cheekbones.

The moment he stood before her, Severus could see Sophia´s icy blue eyes measure him from head to toe, without as much a feeble attempt at discretion. He didn´t need bother with legilimency to know she didn´t particularly like what she saw. Fair enough, he thought, he´d been called many things in his life time, but 'handsome' had never been one of them, he gave her that much. No offense taken.

It was when they walked in that he realized he just might have been in for a bit of trouble.

“Mam, why is great-grandpa´s rifle in the living room?!” he heard Evelyn say, alarmed, before he even had a chance to put his second foot through the the threshold.

“Great-grandpa´s rifle” was the 1914 Mauser model 71 rifle Evelyn´s great-grandfather had used to raid the RIC barracks when he was as part of the 3rd Tippperary Brigade of the Irish Republican Army.

The bloody thing was mounted on the wall above the mantle like a trophy.

“Didn´t dad put that thing away years ago?” Evelyn sounded more than a bit aggravated, once the initial surprise wore off.

Severus had to give it to her mother, that was just... brilliant.

It was a strong opening statement, to welcome an Englishman into the house with an actual IRA rifle mounted right on the living room wall. The woman had style if anything.

“He did, but I figured why leave it collecting dust in the attic. It´s a historical piece, after all.”

“Then maybe we should donate it to a museum.”

“Nonsense, Irish museums have more Mauser rifles than the Vatican has paintings of naked arses, my dear. This one belongs to our family. I´m sure Severus would want to know a bit more about the family history, after all.”

“Mother, I swear...”

“She´s right.” Severus interrupted her with a sly smile. “It is a...very interesting piece of historical memorabilia.”

“And it still works.” Sophia added, without missing a beat.

“I´m sure it does, Mrs. Black” he snickered. “I´m sure it does. It could probably take down another man or a few, I bet.”

“Mausers are forever, my lad. If you two give me a moment, I´ll finish up the table so we can have some tea. Make yourself at home, Severus.”

“I am so sorry, Sev.” Evelyn told him, mortified, when her mother was out of earshot “I bet she got Cillian to that thing up for her, like it would be quite the joke. I´ll have some words with him about enabling her like this...”

“Shhh, love. Relax. It´s all perfectly fine.”

“No, it´s not!”

“I´ve dealt with worst, trust me.” he gave her a quick peck on the lips, before eyeing the rifle over the mantle “Genuinely curious, though..can your mother shoot that thing?”

“She can, actually.”

“Fascinating woman, your mother.” he grimaced “I like her already.”

...

Her mother had behaved over tea. Somewhat.

She mostly ignored Severus presence, as much as Evelyn tried to include him in the conversation, but at least she wasn´t rude to him. Evelyn looked at Severus and found him to be quite at ease, relaxed almost. He probably thought the rifle had been the end of it, and the rest of their stay would be normal.

What he didn´t know was that her mother was saving the heavy artillery for when they had an audience.

Evelyn´s sister and her two daughters had been invited for dinner. Her mother had planned to invite some more relatives to show Severus off for the oddity she seemed to think he was, or to find a way to make him unconfortable. She knew he was reserved and didn´t like crowds, Evelyn had told her over and over, but she seemed to wilfully ignore it. So Evelyn had to put her foot down and flat out demand that only Caitlin and the girls should be invited. It would be much to overwhelming for him to be introduced to their extended family on the first day, and she did want her sister and her daugthers to get a chance to meet him without all the fuss. Evelyn had stopped caring about her mother´s approval of any man she dated a while ago, but she needed Cat´s blessing, and any man she brought into her life would have to at least try and get along with her nieces. As much as Severus proclaimed not to like children, she knew he did at least have a protective streak when it came to them and Alice and Lizzie were dying to finally meet “aunt Linnie´s boyfriend.” She knew they´d get on just fine.

The reduced size of the audience didn´t matter, however. As soon as they all sat down to eat, Sophia charged again.

Over the course of the meal, Severus was interrogated about his current work situation, his education, his family, his religious background, political affiliation and everything else short of what color underwear he preferred. Caitlin tried to divert the conversation to lighter, more pleasant topics time and time again, aware of Evelyn´s silent unease, but Severus was having entire too much fun in antagonising her mother.

Of course the pork roast was to his liking, he said. Which was marvelous because one of Sophia´s friends had raised the oh-so-valid concern that he might be Jewish. (Evelyn even knew exactly which one).

No m´am, he said, not Jewish at all.

“A life long atheist”

Evelyn sighed.

It would be a long evening.

...

Severus smiled, basking on the awkward silence that followed.

“What´s an atheist?” Alice, Caitlin´s oldest daugher, a charmingly bright 6 year old, asked him, slightly mispronouncing the word.

“Somebody who doesn´t believe in God.” Severus told her, unfettered.

“How about angels?”

“Nope, No God, no angels, no saints.”

That wasn´t exactly true. Severus was not religious at all, but he never gave the idea of God´s existence enough tought to truly claim being a commited atheist, which, to be honest, seemed like putting too much effort into something he barely thought about on a daily basis. The look on Sophia´s face was worth the over simplification though. Maybe he should twist the knife a little.

“I did consider Wicca for a while.” he lied with a straight face. There were Wiccan wizards (as much as there were christian, hindu, jewish or muslim wizards, to be sure), but Severus most definitely wasn´t and had never been one of them

“What´s Wicca?” Alice, Merlin bless her and her beutifully curious mind, asked again.

“Witchcraft, darling.” Caitlin answered, giving him a complicit wink, as Sophia near choked on her wine. Alice looked at him with wide eyed wonder.

“Not to be confused with Satanism, of course.” Severus continued gleefuly, knowing it would pick Alice´s interest enough for her to ask. Evelyn looked at him as if she was about to reach across the table to choke him.

“Wha...”Alice started but Sophia switched the subject before she had a chance to finish the question.

Shame, Severus thought, to deny a child´s legitimate thirst for knowledge.

The conversation moved on as Severus dodged question after question, a smile on his lips, trying his best to pick the answer that would most infuriate Sophia, but taking care to phrase it in the most elegant and polite words he could find, so she would not have a legitimate reason to be furious.

Yes, he was currently employed. Oh, yes, government position, good stability, but doesn´t necessarily pay that well, isn´t it true?

“Sure, the pay could better, of course. But then again I´m just a scholar, wasn´t your husband a teacher, surely you know how it is.”

One of Evelyn´s exes is making quite a profit with his new business, by the way.

“That´s wonderful, Mrs. Black, must be nice opening a business to so little competition, good on the lad, fortunate enough to get a first loan from his father, I´ve heard. Very good for him indeed.”

Well, it´s not very appropriate to talk about money matters at the table.

“Definitely Mrs. Black, say, what´s your opinion on the Belfast agreement? Some people are saying it´s the end of the IRA.”

Evelyn almost missed his foot when she kicked him under the table for that one.

...

They walked back to the house hand in hand after escorting Caitlin and the girls home.

Cat lived a couple blocks down the street, and it was still early, so they had decided to stay a little longer for a couple drinks. Caitlin put the girls to bed and opened a bottle of Evelyn´s favorite rosé. The three of them sat outside in the garden and had a good laugh about all the nonsense that transpired during dinner. Then Cat offered Severus some valuable advice on how to deal with their mother.

“Nod and smile. Whatever you do, just let her think she´s calling the shots. It´s how dad did it.”

It was true. Their father, God rest his soul, was probably the most collected, serene man to have walked the earth. Whenever their mother decided to be difficult all he did was take a step back and allow her to get it out of her system, then return when she was done so they work it out calmly. Evelyn had seen him truly lose his temper with her mother maybe once her whole life. And that time it had been entirely Evelyn´s fault.

Caitlin was a lot like their father in that way. Evelyn looked like him, but Cat had his way of taking everything in stride. In fact, Evelyn almost forgot Severus had been a bit of a wanker over dinner.

But surely enough they had to talk about it on the way back

“Well, dinner sure was something...” she said, quietly

“I found it to be quite...successful.”

“Oh, did you. Let me see, you told my mother you´re an atheist with wiccan and satanist proclivities, you gave her sass the whole evening and your idea of pleasant dinner conversation is asking charged questions about Irish-British relations to a woman who welcomed you in her house with an IRA gun mounted on the wall. Yes, quite successful, I´d say.”

“I told you I liked your mother. She´s an absolute riot. I had buckets of fun.”

“You´re fecking impossible. I don´t know which one of you two is worse.”

“If I were to bet I say the one with the rifle” he laughed.

“For what´s worth she doesn´t really have anything against jewish people.”

“Really? I´d never guess...”

“One of her stupid church friends made that joke when they saw a picture of us I sent Cat.”

“It was the nose, right? It´s always the nose.”

“Knowing her she probably thought she´s throw it in just for the chance of annoying you regardless of wether you were Jewish or not. Same with the malarkey about your job and everything else. She´s just trying anything to see what sticks.”

“She likes pushing people´s buttons is what you´re trying to say.”

“She does. Which is why I was expecting you two would get along, you have that in common.”

They found her mother waiting for them in the living room when they walked in, sitting on the couch, in her flowery robe, glasses on, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other and an open box of chcolates on the coffee table. Evelyn was surprised she didn´t put the soundtrack for “The Godfather” on, for added effect.

“There you two are. I almost thought you´d stay over at Cat´s. I figure you´d be tired and want to turn in a little early tonight, so your bedrooms are ready.” she informed them, looking over her book.

...

Evelyn sighed as if she had been through this before. Severus needed a moment to get it...“bedrooms”. Bedrooms. Plural. One for each. Of course it shouldn´t be a surprise that Sophia would put them in separate rooms even though they were both adults who had been living with each other for a good while. Of course she would.

“You´ll stay in your old room as always, Linnie, and I´ve prepared the guest room for Severus. It´s the last one down the hall.”

“Mother...”

“Evelyn, I´d like to have a word with you in private, if Severus doesn´t mind, of course.”

Severus tried not to laugh too loud as he went upstairs and he closed the door to his room behind himself. At age 39. he had just been sent to his room as if he was a child. It was so ridiculous he didn´t find it in him to be annoyed. That Sophia needed some time alone to talk to her daughter was entirely understandable, but the way she had all but told him to go to his room as if she would do a little boy, was quite something.

He sighed and decided it was for the best to just put on his pajamas, get into bed with a good book and call it a day.

Severus had tested his luck enough for the time being. It was probably better to heed to Mrs Black´s whims for now, and try and behave. After all, they´d be there for a couple weeks only, it would all be over soon, so there was no need to complicate things for himself.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Evelyn started, taking a seat on her father´s favorite armchair. “I hope you´re going to apologize for how you treated him.”

“I don´t trust this man.” Her mother answered, casually, almost as if she was telling her they had run out of sugar.

“You don´t...you...” Evelyn took a deep breath, trying not to lose her temper “Mother, you welcome him with a rifle on the wall, and has to gall of saying you don´t trust him? Why? Because he´s not Catholic? Not Irish? English? Jesus, it´s not 1916, anymore.”

“None of that!” she waved her hand, dismissively “He´s hiding something.”

“Excuse me?”

“I´m telling you, pet. I know when a man is not being truthful and that one? That one looks like he´s a habitual liar. You can tell by looking at him.”

“That´s preposterous.”

“Where did he get that scar? And that horrible tatoo on his arm.”

“He got the scar in an accident, and the tatoo is some stupid teenage shenanigans.”

“He´s shifty, that one. You can see it in the way he behaves. And how smug, how evasive he is, it´s like he´s...”

“Good night, mam.” she bolted out of her seat. As she walked past her mother , however, she felt her hand touch hers.

“Evelyn, no. Don´t go just yet.”

“If you´re going to continue with this...”

“I won´t. I won´t. Sit here” she patted the space beside her “Let´s talk about something else, then.”

...

After what felt like a little over an hour Severus noticed the lights in the rest of the house were turned off and he heard the sound of steps coming up the stairs, doors opening and closing and Evelyn´s voice wishing her mother good night. He looked at the clock on his bedside table.

Midnight.

Too early for him, but he probably should try to sleep. He was sure either Evelyn or Mrs Black would want him to be up early the next day for whatever reason. He was tired enough that he could use the rest, anyway.

He put the book on the side table and turned off the light.

As he was on the brink of dozing off he heard the sound of the door cracking open. Before he could reach for the light, he felt the mattress cave under the weight of somebody sitting on his side.

“Lyn?”

“I thought I´d find you awake.” she turned the light on.

She had changed into a nightgown. A long white cotton, shapeless thing with some cutesy Irish lace details. Something her grandmother may have wore to bed back in the day. Not at all like the sleek and sensuous silk nightgowns she wore to go to bed with him back home. Severus found it funny that she felt the need to put on this demure, near virginal outfit on to go to bed, just because she was back in her childhood home.

Truth to be told, however, it didn´t look bad on her. It didn´t look bad on her at all, he thought, noticing how the light of the lamp made the fabric look sheer, and how nicely the white lace constrasted with her summer tan.

“I was about to fall asleep” he sat up “ you and your mother took forever down there.”

“Sorry. About everything.”

“Did she do this with every man you ever brought home or is it just me?”

“Every last one. But before my father was here to reign her in a little. Actually I think that´s part of the reason she´s being so hard on you. You´re the first boyfriend I bring home since dad passed away, and...I don´t know...It´s like life moved on without him, and she can´t quite accept it.” she shrugged

“What were you two talking about all this time?”

“This and that” she trailled off.

“You´re a terrible liar, love, and you know it. Come on...how bad did I screw this all up?” he smiled, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“You didn´t.”

“She just doesn´t like me, then.”

“She doesn´t trust you. She thinks you´re hiding something.”

“She´s right... I am. WE are. Your mother is not stupid, and she seems to know you like the back of her hand. And she didn´t do that bad of a job in reading me, it seems. I´m telling you, I´m starting to admire her.”

“Will we tell her, one day? I mean, can we?”

“We can, eventually. Maybe we should, even. Muggles deserve to know when they have magical family members. Your brother was a wizard, she deserves to know what happened to him. And if there´s the possibility of her having a magical grandchild, then all the more reason for her to know. Your sister too. There´s ways to go about it.”

“It just seems so...so much. I still haven´t taken it all in myself...”

“Come here...”

Severus pushed the covers away and pulled her to his chest, resting his cheek on the top of her head to breath in the scent of her hair. Evelyn relaxed, melting into him. He ran his hand down the curve of her hip, feeling bare skin, firm flesh under the soft white cotton.

Irish summers were not particularly hot, and the night outside was quite clear and pleasant, a soft cool breeze making its way in from the sea...yet Severus started to feel a little too hot.

He shivered when her hand snuck under his shirt and she dragged her nails lightly down his abdomen, scrtaching ever so slightly. Then she shifted and her breath was on his neck, ticklish and warm.

“I´m sorry to interrupt...”

Severus couldn´t believe his ears...really? REALLY?

Of course, of course she was standing right at this bedroom door, in the dark like a damned ghost.

Of course she was.

“Linnie, would be a dear and go fetch my medicine from the kitchen. I must have forgotten.”

“You couldn´t go yourself?” Evelyn asked, pleadingly.

“You know I get terrible vertigo if I have to get up after I´ve turned in for the night.I don´t quite trust going down the stairs.”

“Go...” Severus told her, defeated, rubbing one of her slumped shoulders.

...

That was just the beginning of it all.

Sophia seemed hellbent on not allowing the two of them a moment of peace and quiet, just the two of them.

Evelyn had, of course, decided to take him to all the places there were to see in Doolin. They had been to the pubs, the stores, the beaches, they had taken boat rides and visited the caves and cliffs. She had told him stories of her childhood and shown him the places where she used to play, where she had fallen off her bike for the first time, where she learned to swim, the tree under which she had her first kiss.

It was sweet, comforting and nostalgic, and it felt as if they were closer than ever before.

But the moment they stepped back into the house her mother found a way to snatch her back from him, Any excuse would do. She needed to go shopping, she needed help in the kitchen, she was having dizzy spells, she had something important to talk about in private...at any given moment the would be something, anything, she needed Evelyn for.

Then, at the end of the day, they would each go to their respective room like mischievous little children who needed to be kept separate so they wouldn´t get in trouble. Invariably, her mother would feel 'a wee under the weather', and have sudden bouts of insomnia. Severus wouldn´t put past Mrs Black to actually be listening in to make sure neither one was sneaking into each other´s room in the middle of the night. And neither would Evelyn, at this point.

In the first two or three days, Severus forced himself to let it all go. He didn´t say anything, and he surely didn´t make any attempt to try and break the “curfew”. He, quite mistakenly, thought if he 'behaved adequately', Mrs Black would eventually relent, but as the days passed she showed no sign of change whatsoever. Evelyn knew better thant that. She knew that when her mother got something in her head, there was no amount of “nodding and smiling” that would get her to relent. She would stop when she wanted to stop.

It had been amusing enough at first. Sneaking up on each in the kitchen or in her father´s old study to have a stolen few minutes alone, a few moments of stolen kisses and chaste carresses was not at all unpleasant. It felt as if they were kids again.

There was something almost...exhilarating about it.

They had a backyard full of stunning rosebushes, that grew around an apple tree. It was a ancient, venerable tree that had stood there since before the house was built. It stood tall and luxuriant, bearing flower and fruit every year without fail. Evelyn´s father had hung a wooden swing from the sturdiest of it´s branches for her and her siblings to play, and on warmer summer days, she would put a picnic towel under it so she could read under its sweet shade. Now the old apple tree that had sheltered her from the sun and rain as she grew up became a refuge for their quick encounters. On the excuse of seeking shade to protect themselves from the oh-so-inclement Irish summer sun, they´d sit under the tree and snogg like randy, lovesick teenagers.

It was fun...but soon it was not enough.

As quaint and delightful as it was, that little roleplay of hiding from mummy dearest, by the fifth day, Severus was crawling up the walls with frustration and pent up lust. He knew Evelyn wasn´t faring much better, but she did a better job of hiding than he did. Severus was slowly getting testy, aggravated and moody. Getting himself to fall asleep at night became a chore.

When all the lights in the house went out at the end of the sixth day, he lay wide awake in bed.

“Fuck this, fuck all of this.” he hissed, mumbling to himself, kicking the covers and heading downstairs as quietly as he could. He knew Mrs. Black kept a bottle of her best whiskey stashed away in the kitchen cabinet. By God, if the woman could deprive him of Evelyn, he would at least put a good dent on her prized Irish whiskey.

“You came for the whiskey, right?”

He found Evelyn sitting on the kitchen table, feet dangling above the floor, hair pulled up in a mess that vaguely resembled a bun, the pristine white nightgown hoisted up above her thick, lush thighs, the lacy straps falling so dangerously low about her shoulders her breasts were almost bare. It took Severus a moment to register the fact that she had an open tub of Ben&Jerry´s ice cream on her lap, a spoon in her hand and, on the table next to her, a glass full of ice and her mother´s prized bottle of whiskey, open.

“Whiskey? What whiskey?” he grinned hungrily.

“The glasses are on the cupboard behind you.” she said, visibly amused by his reaction.

Severus collected his thoughts and summoned a glass and some ice.

“Get a spoon too.” she suggested, pointing to a drawer, and her voice was filled with an excitement he only ever heard from students sneaking out of their dorms for snogging sessions in one of the vacant storerooms.

“No, I´m good.” he smiled

“You sure? I don´t usually share ice cream.”

“I can think of a few more interesting things to do than eat ice cream.” he finished his drink in a single gulp and went to her, so he could caress the side of her leg, from knee to hip.

“Oh, can you really?”

Her voice did that thing, that low, guttural, raspy drop it did when she got aroused, and Severus knew whatever shred of respect he had for her mother and her ridiculous rules had just shattered. Without even thinking he stood between her parted legs, grabbed the tube of ice cream from her hands, threw it in the sink, then gave her a devouring, demanding kiss.

Her tongue tasted of vanila, chocolate and need.

...

“Where was this enthusiasm over the past few nights?” she joked, biting his lower lip “My bedroom is across the hallway, you know?”

“And Mother superior´s bedroom is right next to yours. She was too eager to inform me that old mauser still works, so I´m not taking my chances.”

“Don´t tell me you´re scared of her? The man who lied to the...how was it that you called him again...the 'Dark Lord'...” Even now that she had seen magic with her own eyes and had read the newspapers talking about the things Severus did, it still felt surreal to talk about it, as if it was part of their normal coexistence.

“Unlike your mother, the Dark Lord could occasionaly be reasoned with.” he told her, claiming her lips again, before she could come up with a clever answer.

...

Nights in the countryside are eerily quiet, more than he was used to in the mostly abandoned Spinner´s End. All he could hear outside was the occasional cricket, and in the stillness of the night their laboured breading, the soft rustle of their clothes as they pushed them out of the way without quite taking them off and the wet sucking and licking of lips on lips and lips on skin sounded much louder than it was supposed to be.

Severus couldn´t be bothered to care. Her thighs around his waist pulled him in, he had no idea where the old, beat up Joy Division t-shirt he slept in had been thrown and his pajama pants were half way down his arse.

With his luck, he wouldn´t be surprised if they were caught right in the middle of it (did Mrs. Black even sleep, he wondered), and it would certainly be wise to either stop or at least make haste, but he, quite honestly didn´t give a damn.

Evelyn´s lips and teeth were all over his neck, his colarbone, her fingers digging into the flesh of his buttocks, pulling him to her. She had scooted closer, so dangerously close to edge of the table he could feel the slick arousal sliding, grinding against the underside of his fully erect cock.

...

Evelyn knew just how to get him. For all his self-control, Severus was surprisingly easy to tempt. She found it downright adorable that he had been trying to 'behave' and not give her mother reason to complain, but she knew he had been on the edge for days now, and anything would set him off. She was counting on it in fact.

It hadn´t been planned on her part to come down to the kitchen in the middle of the night. She would have slipped him a note under his door if it had been. But the moment he stepped in, tousled from tossing and turning in bed, wearing her favorite Joy Division t-shirt, the one that used to hang lose on him but had been getting just a little snug, and the grey flannel pajama trousers that barely disguised the fact that he had forgone underwear, she knew what they´d end up doing. At least she knew what she wanted to do.

Ever the gentleman, however, he was trying to go slow, to show her the sweet courtesy of proper foreplay. At this point it was all it was...a courtesy. They had been engaging in nothing but foreplay for days now. They´d been all over each other at any precious few minutes alone they could steal. Evelyn had lost track of how many times she had been worked up to the point of plain arousal only to be left wanting because her mother found a way to interrupt.

No, she thought, pulling his hips into hers, digging her nails on his bare arse and running her tongue across his jaw. She had foreplay, quite enough of it. She needed him now. She was ready for it.

Severus hissed and the tight muscles under his heated skin bucked beneath the palms of her hands. His hips pressed down on her, his breath hitched and his cock hard.

...

“Fuckin´tease” he whispered, sinking his teeth on her shoulder.

“We don´t have all night, you know?” she giggled, putting her arms around his shoulders and pushing his head down, to rest on the softness of her breasts.

Severus would have loved to take his time. The idea of making a slow, debauched feast out of her, sprawled on her mother´s kitchen table, the precious kitchen table where she made her precious family recipes, was too enticing. He would love nothing more than to sprawl her across the table, every luscious, delectable bit of her, and take his time, run his lips across every inch of skin, every little crevice and curve of hers, make her come on his tongue and taste it.

But they didn´t have time. Mrs. Black was a light sleeper he´d noticed, and he wouldn´t be at all surprised if she simply sprouted out of the kitchen floor like a demon summoned out of hell. Part of him almost wished she did, if anything out of sheer spite. Yes, Mrs. Black, I´m about to fuck your daughter right here on your sacred kitchen table and she´s going to enjoy every second of it, and there´s not a single bloody thing you can do about it.

A shiver went up his spine and he felt the heat under his skin burn like a furnace. Severus almost didn´t recognise the low, hissing growl he produced in the back of his throat as a noise he was even capable of producing.

Evelyn let out the tiniest little yelp when he pulled her off the table by the hips and turned her around, nudging her legs apart with his knee. He could tell it was taking all she had to keep quiet. She was always so loud. And he loved it that she was loud, scandalous almost. But to see her so quiet, almost suffering to keep her voice down....it was oddly arousing...In the semi darkness he could see her bite on of her knuckles, forcing herself not to moan when he was finaly inside of her.

...

Evelyn loved to feel the weight of him crushing her. He knew she did. He knew she loved it when he manhandled her and spun her around like a rag doll. Being vulnerable, handing over control to him, Severus knew it got her off. She almost screamed when he spun her around and pushed her back, filling her in one smooth thrust. This is what she wanted and he gave it to her. Hard and heavy like that.

Evelyn knew she couldn´t make a single noise. In a way, it made it more exciting. The challenge of it. The thrill of hiding, the fear of being caught. She was sure Severus felt it too.

Severus usual style of love making was controled and calculated. He liked the teasing, he took pleasure in the drawn out, elaborated display of technique, on taking his time and building up the pleasure little by little.

There was none of that on the way his fingers dug into her flesh, and his breath burned hot on her neck.

Severus´ usual style was lovemaking. This? No, this was fucking.

And he did it just as well.

....

It was all a dizzy blur when his body started to move on instinct, roughly, thrusting and rutting into her. Severus didn´t think, he didn´t care. He finaly had her, and that was all there was to it. No teasing, no method or control. No foreplay, and sweet, naughty endearments. Just fuck. Just do it fast and do it now, before something spoils it.

He leaned in, resting his forehead on the back of her neck, his nose inhaling lavender and his tongue tasting sweat. He heard Evelyn laugh softly, quietly, as she raised her head and looked back at him, He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her for a kiss, huffing and moaning inside her mouth.

It took nothing for him to forget where he was. There was nothing around him other than Evelyn´s scent, her taste, the way she felt beneath him, around him. Nothing at all but her, her mouth, her warmth and the sheer bliss of being inside of her.

He lost himself in it.

Big mistake.

If he hadn´t lost himself to his own pleasure, Severus might have remembered ther were a a bottle and two glasses sitting right on the table they were violently shaking in their feverish enthusiasm,

Then Severus learned that the sound of glass shattering on the floor is particularly loud when it happens to occur in the middle of the night, in a house in the quiet Irish countryside and the mother of the woman you happen to be shagging is sleeping right upstairs.

“Well, there goes my mother´s whiskey.”

#snape #snapedom #severus snape #evelyn black #severus x evelyn #severus snape x evelyn black #severus snape x oc #sevelyn?#one shot #lemon #N #S #F #W #prompt #request #post war #my fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

citizen69 · 5 years

Photo

Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC) barracks, Derry / Londonderry. Circa 1913.

#police #Ireland #Ulster #RIC #RUC #vintage #20th Century #Irish

10 notes · View notes

poniatowskaja · 4 years

Quote

But armed engagements were much more problematic. An attempted attack on Cookstown barrack in Tyrone failed, and Patrick Loughran became the first Volunteer to be killed in the six counties. No explosives had been available; and those that were used in an attack on the barrack in Irish Street, Armagh were wasted. (These were packed in a box on a cart and rolled up to the barrack wall; the explosion did more damage to the houses opposite than to the barrack.) McCorley’s first serious action was the attack on Crossgar RIC barrack in east Down, carried out inevitably with mostly untrained men with no experience of such actions. Though they were provided with Mills bombs – very sophisticated munitions by the standards of most rural units – using them called for some basic training. The men detailed for the bombing party ‘had no idea of the mechanism’, and McCorley was given the job of instructing them. He was called away to fix a dismantled rifle after explaining to the group that they must ‘keep their hands on the levers after pulling the pins’. He returned to find one of them ‘with the pin extracted…just about to let the lever fly off. He appeared to be under the impression that nothing would happen if he did not throw the bomb.’

Charles Townshend, The Republic: The Fight for Irish Independence, Penguin, 174

#Irish history #irish independence #Charles Townshend #ireland #weapon

1 note · View note

corkcitylibraries · 5 years

Text

It Seems Like Nothing Changes

By Paul Cussen

October 1919

While Lloyd George’s government realise that Home Rule is not enough to satisfy the Irish, the Irish Committee of the British Government is recreated under heavy Unionist influence, notably through Sir Walter Long.

John McArdle, F Company, 1st Battalion, Dublin Brigade, Irish Volunteers loses the use of an eye during an exchange with British forces.

James Joyce leaves Zurich for Trieste. He writes to Harriet Weaver to say that he has found the manuscript of A Portrait… in the drawer of his desk, exactly where he had left it four years before. Not trusting the post-war postal system he divides the manuscript into four parts, posting each one separately, and promising that if any part did not arrive, he will write it out again for her.

(In July 1951 Harriet Weaver presented the manuscript to Frederick Boland as a donation for the National Library of Ireland. She was so impressed by Boland’s enthusiasm that she donated a portrait of the great man by Wyndham Lewis to the National Gallery of Ireland)

Winston Churchill condemns the IRA as ‘a gang of squalid murderers’ who have eluded capture.

D’Annunzio, the ‘John the Baptist of Fascism’, receives a cargo ship laden with military equipment. The Persia is captured by Giuseppe Giuletti and some volunteers who redirect it from its original destination of Vladivostock, where it is to supply the White Armies, to Fiume.

1-2 October

Dozens of doughboys shot at African-Americans and when police arrive they shoot at them during the Baltimore riot. Police reinforcements cause the soldiers to withdraw. In total six soldiers are arrested.

2 October

Seán 'ac Dhonncha is born in Carna, Connemara (d. 1996)

US President Woodrow Wilson has a stroke that leaves him partially paralysed.

3 October

John Boyd (Boyd Bradfield Upchurch) is born in Atlanta (d. 2013)

James M. Buchanan is born in Murfreesboro, Tennessee (d. 2013)

5 October

Private William Grenville dies of appendicitis in Cork.

Donald Pleasence is born in Worksop, Nottinghamshire (d. 1995)

5-6 October

61.6% of voters vote for prohibition (of spirits) in a referendum in Norway.

6-7 October

American marines and Haitian gendarmes repel an attack by Caco rebels under Charlemagne Masséna Péralte in the Battle of Port-au-Prince.

7 October

Koninklijke Luchtvaart Maatschappij N.V. (KLM) is founded and will become the first airline in the world to celebrate its centenary. The modified De Havilland DH-9B bomber pictured above was part of their London Amsterdam service with British Aerial Transport.

9 October

Constable Joseph Reynolds of the Dublin Metropolitan Police overpowers William Little who had just shot two “Asylum attendants and a private enquiry agent”.

10 October

Private W.J. Edwards dies of aenemia in Central Hospital, Cork aged 18.

11 October

Art Blakey is born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (d. 1990)

11 Oct–18 Nov

Soviet forces halt the White forces advance on Moscow in the Orel-Kromy operation.

14 October

Aleksandar Stamboliyski is appointed Prime Minister of Bulgaria.

17 October

HMS Dragon is hit by two shells from a shore battery while taking part in an operation against German forces attacking Riga. Nine of the crew die and five are wounded.

RCA is created as a subsidiary to General Electric.

18 October

De Valera is made an honorary chief of the Chippewa in Wisconsin.

Pierre Trudeau is born in Montreal (d. 2000)

19 October

Detective Michael Downing of G Division (Dublin Metropolitan Police) is assassinated.

Anna Howard Shaw becomes the first female recipient of the US Distinguished Service Medal.

20 October

Ontario voters decide not to repeal prohibition in a referendum.

The man engine which transports miners underground at the Levant Mine in Cornwall fails. The rod which controls the movement breaks and men on the device plummet the 1,596-foot shaft. At least five of the 31 who die had served in the War.

22 October

Doris Lessing is born in Kermanshah, Iran (d. 2013)

W. N. P. Barbellion (pen-name of Bruce Frederick Cummings), English naturalist and diarist, dies of multiple sclerosis (born 1889)

25 October

Jimmy Rudd is born in Dublin (d. 1985)

Six Republican prisoners (including Piaras Beaslaí) escape from Strangeways Prison.

Ireland and England draw 1-1 in front of a crowd of 30,000 in Windsor Park, Belfast.

26 October

Edward Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85 premieres in Queen’s Hall, London.

President Wilson’s veto of the Prohibition Enforcement Bill is overridden.

27 October

James Joseph Magennis is born in Belfast (d. 1986)

Minister for Foreign Affairs, Count George Plunkett, reports ‘a steady progress’ in the development of Ireland’s foreign relations ‘in spite of all impediments’.

Mike Pepitone becomes the last victim of the Axeman of New Orleans.

28 October

Arthur Ransome leaves Russia with his future wife Evgenia Petrovna Shelepina, who had been Trotsky's secretary.

30 October

Ella Wheeler Wilcox dies of cancer in Short Beach, Connecticut (b. 1850)

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth But has trouble enough of its own

‘Since I went to Ireland the only party delivering inflammatory speeches inciting to the murder of the servants of the Crown has been the Sinn Fein party, and so long as these speeches are likely to be delivered by these men I will prohibit them.’ -Sir James Macpherson in the House of Commons

31 October

Two units of the IRA attack the RIC barracks in Ballivor, Co. Meath killing 35 year old RIC Constable William Agar and seizing a revolver, five rifles and a large amount of ammunition.

Elsewhere in Co. Meath, Sergeant Matthews and Constables Griffiths and O’Shea at Lismullin RIC barracks repel an attack by about 26 Volunteers.

#cork city libraries #history to blame #irish history #cork history

3 notes · View notes

stairnaheireann · 6 months

Text

#OTD in 1892 – Birth of General Eoin O’Duffy, near Castleblaney, Co Monaghan.

Birth of Eoin O’Duffy, IRA man, Commissioner of the Garda Síochána and General Franco supporter, near Lough Egish, Co Monaghan. O’Duffy first came to fame when he led an IRA group which captured the first RIC barracks at Ballytrain taking from it weapons and explosives, during the War of Independence. Also present at this victory were Ernie O’ Malley who went on to organise flying columns and the…

View On WordPress

#An Garda Síochána #Éamon De Valera #Blue Shirts #Catholic Church #Co. Monaghan #Eoin O&039;Duffy #Fascist #Fine Gael #Franco&039;s Army #Garda Síochána Commissioner #General Franco supporter #IRA #Ireland #Irish War of Independence #Spain

7 notes · View notes

18thfoot · 1 year

Photo

21st November 1920 was a day that became known as Bloody Sunday in Ireland. The IRA carried out a series of concerted attacks on British Intelligence Officers living in various parts of Dublin. In all they killed 15 men, perhaps half of whom were Intelligence Officers. One of those targeted was a Lt-Col Fitzpatrick staying at 28 Earlsfort Terrace. The maid who answered the door to men looking for Fitzpatrick said there was nobody by that name in the house but that there was a Captain Fitzgerald. The IRA men entered Fitzgerald’s bedroom and shot him dead. Captain Fitzgerald was in fact a Barrack Defence Sergeant in the Royal Irish Constabulary named John Fitzgerald, a doctor’s son from Cappawhite, Co.Tipperary. Fitzgerald was born on 15 March 1898 and had enlisted in the Royal Irish Regiment in 1915. He was wounded on the Somme and later joined the Royal Flying Corps. He was shot down and taken prisoner in 1917. After the war he served in Russia, with the RAF. In June 1920 Fitzgerald joined the RIC and was posted to Co. Clare. He was taken prisoner by the IRA who attempted to kill him with his own revolver but he survived by feigning death when he was shot. Fitzgerald was in Dublin recovering from his injuries when he was shot dead by the IRA. It’s unlikely that he was deliberately targeted and was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time. http://www.bloodysunday.co.uk/murdered-men/fitzgerald.html Photo Credit: Remembering the RIC & DMP on Twitter #18thfoot #royalirishregiment #redcoat #britisharmy #britishempire #greatwar #worldwar1 #ww1 #warofindependence #bloodysunday https://www.instagram.com/p/ClOvaC0tGzz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#18thfoot #royalirishregiment #redcoat #britisharmy #britishempire #greatwar #worldwar1 #ww1 #warofindependence #bloodysunday

1 note · View note

natalyalu · 6 years

Video

flickr

R.I.C. Depot, Dublin City, Co. Dublin by National Library of Ireland on The Commons Via Flickr: Situated just inside the North Circular Road gates to the Phoenix Park these lovely, old, red bricked buildings always seemed separate from the old RIC Depot. Was Mr. French correct in his assertion that it was part of the Depot? It is certainly not the image that is shown these days for Garda Headquarters. The suggestion (proposed by Bernard Healy and endorsed by Niall McAuley and swordscookie) is that these were the 'Married Quarters' for RIC members and families based at the main Depot. Though only very slightly modified over the years since, the modern StreetView doesn't include the armed sentries which Carol Maddock tells us patrolled the site in the decades around this photo.... Photographer: Robert French Collection: Lawrence Photograph Collection Date: Catalogue range c.1865-1914 NLI Ref: L_ROY_05563 You can also view this image, and many thousands of others, on the NLI’s catalogue at catalogue.nli.ie

0 notes

homethoughtsfromabroad626 · 3 years

Text

Thursday Doors – More from Blackrock — Jean Reinhardt

More old properties from Blackrock, County Louth in this week’s Thursday Doors tour. This lovely red brick building, built in 1890, was once a Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC) Barracks and was set on fire on the 4th August, 1920 during the Irish War of Independence. It was repaired and after the founding of the Irish Free […]Thursday Doors – More from Blackrock — Jean Reinhardt

View On WordPress

0 notes

jeanreinhardt · 3 years

Text

Thursday Doors - More from Blackrock

Thursday Doors – More from Blackrock

More old properties from Blackrock, County Louth in this week’s Thursday Doors tour. This lovely red brick building, built in 1890, was once a Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC) Barracks and was set on fire on the 4th August, 1920 during the Irish War of Independence. It was repaired and after the founding of the Irish Free State in 1922 became the local Garda Station up until 1976. It’s now a…

View On WordPress

#BlackrockCountyLouth #Kitesurfers #TheBeach #ThursdayDoors #VictorianBuildings

0 notes

jflashandclash · 6 years

Text

Attrition of Peace

Thirty-Nine: Ajax

Important Questions for Ethics and How the Universe Works

“So, do you think Reyna is deflowering Axel or do you think she’s giving him a fast pass to visit Luke?” Jack asked when one of the Romans took Connor into their barracks.

Pax wanted to follow after Connor, but the look the Roman gave him was clear: come near me or mine and I’ll scoop your eyes out with a ½ teaspoon. At least, that’s the specific fraction for the cooking utensil that Pax interpreted through his skilled glare-reading.

And, despite all the wanting-Axel-to-bang-his-not-girlfriend going on, Pax was still terrified of her overtly dedicated followers that wanted to kill him.

Calex and Kahale were stationed a few yards away, outside the tent, to make sure no one bothered Axel and Reyna. They gave each other a worried glance at a clatter and snarl from inside. The light inside dimmed and twisted turquoise; Pax knew Axel was using magic. Fear magic: good for mood lighting.

Calex and Kahale looked really nervous about their decision.

If Pax was closer, he would have assured them, it’s okay. They just flirt weird.

Alabaster sighed as he and Lou Ellen walked over from the caution tape. He’d been dragging the dead from the strawberry field while Kally helped fix up the wounds Phobetor had given Lou Ellen in prior bouts.

“Your interest in everyone’s sex life is disturbing,” Alabaster told Jack, wiping the blood off his hands with a Wet One sanitizer wipe.

Alabaster was pale—well, he always looked like he took tanning advice from an empousa—but he was paler than normal. Pax could tell from the way Alabaster’s fingers shook that he was taking this as well as a blender to the face. None of the Romans were jeering at them anymore, but their wariness and suspicion were noticeable. And Pax was waiting for someone to make a comment to Alabaster that would lead Pax and Kally to kicking the Tartarus out of that person.

Pax wanted to give Alabaster a hug; he could tell the child of magic needed encouragement. But he also knew how much a hug would humiliate Alabaster. He would never want to show weakness in front of the Romans.

Unlike Pax, who had been sobbing over Connor. Now that his friend from Cabin Eleven was gone, he turned his attention to Matthias. The Nord was muttering in his sleep, his teeth chattering. Pax took the Peace, Love, and Reese’s Sticks flag they’d made and draped it over the mechanic’s body. He couldn’t read lettering, but Kally had assured him that’s what she wrote after all his pestering and guilting.

As Lou Ellen came even with them, her green eyes widened with glee. “Wooh—a talking head. How did you guys pull this one off? A combo of using a healer of Apollo and some good ol’ fashion necromancy?”

Alabaster went to shake his head, but paused. He glanced over to where Kally was putting Clovis’ arm in a sling. The child of Hynos was out cold in a sleeping bag, probably high-fiving his dad in the dream world.

Kally noticed them, blushed, and gave a tiny wave. Then her brow furrowed in confusion, probably because of the uncomfortable curiosity in Alabaster’s gaze. After seeing a few of his obsessive experiments, Pax figured she’d get used to his absent-minded mania.

Though, Pax wasn’t sure if Alabaster’s interest involved the desire to replicate Jack’s condition—was that considered a condition? Or more a change in life style?—or if Alabaster wanted to end it, for the good of humanity and to end the irritation of being the caretaker of a virile and incessantly talking head.

“Ah, children of Hecate,” Jack cooed, “Never bothered by the severed limbs of necromancy. Just my interest in their sex life.”

Probably the latter.

Pax, for one, was happy to have Jack back.

He glanced over to Lou Ellen. When Pax had first gotten to camp, he’d been so busy terrorizing people with Cabin Eleven and gathering supplies to defeat Santiago (and doing Eris’ evil bidding) that he didn’t pay much attention to the Hecate cabin counselor. She had curling brunette hair and green eyes, as stunning as Alabaster’s and Lamia’s.

Then, something clicked. “Didn’t you say something about Hecate’s babes up there?” Pax asked.

“Yea,” she said, bending her middle and ring finger to her thumb to make the rock on symbol. “Bitches and witches.”

A sharp pain shot through Pax’s forehead.

He, Jack, Alabaster, and Lou Ellen all cried in pain.

“Someone altered our memories,” Alabaster hissed, clutching his head.

“Are you okay?!”

When Pax managed to blink away his tears, he found Kally touching his shoulder in concern. There were blood flecks on her glasses and the sweater he and Axel loaned her was stained red at the cuff. It looked like Kally had given him permission to draw on her face, between the red-rims around her eyes, and the dark circles surrounding them. Though, Pax would have added a sunflower drawing to balance out the darkness.

There was a Roman with Kally, one with lighter, leather armor, and a white packet with a caduceus symbol.

Were these the only two healers here other than Jack? Did that mean… did that mean Kally was sorting through fifty percent of the dead and injured campers?

Pax thought about the little factory line of corpses that Alabaster and Lou Ellen dragged over. Sure. They’d been on adventures and she watched Joey get incinerated in flames, but…

“Have you seen a dead body before? Or had to pronounce someone no-longer-functional?” Pax asked. She hadn’t been on the side of the house with Will or… “This doesn’t count.” Pax gestured to where he’d pinned Jack’s hair to his utility belt.

Kally tightened her grip on his shoulder.

Pax had so many people he needed to give hugs to today.

Before he could wrap his arms around her, the Roman medic took a step towards them. Kally released Pax’s arm and moved away to give the Roman room.

“I can’t believe they let you heal the head of the Hermes barracks,” he snapped at Pax’s beltline.

“Cabin,” Kally corrected softly.

“Kleptocracy,” Pax suggested.[1]

Despite his clear irritation with the Roman, Alabaster glanced at Pax in surprise.

Pax waggled his eyebrows at Alabaster in the best I-know-smart-words-too-and-I-know-you-find-smart-words-hot expression he could make.

“This is Ric Bardking—” Kally started to introduce.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Pft, better than you could have healed him. Ajax explained the severity of the situation and why it was dire—that Connor Stoll needed to live.”

Pax nodded. “He needs to take care of my chinchilla.”

“You don’t belong here, abomination,” the Roman hissed at Pax’s beltline.

Pax needed a way to remind himself that people were talking to Jack and not Pax’s family jewels, especially since “abomination” was definitely not one of his nicknames for them. Maybe he should hold Jack up for people to talk to him? Would that seem too… threatening? What if Jack started making faces that Pax couldn’t see?

“What’s the matter, Ol’ Sissy? Are we too dark for your rating system?” Jack’s gargling, metal-clank of a cackle screeched their ears. “Does the honesty of our situations and character make you uncomfortable?” If Jack had hands or a heart, Pax knew Jack would put a hand to his heart and stare off in the distance. “Are we not a good enough conduit for social justice? Are—are you one of my siblings?”

The influx in Jack’s voice changed. It trembled with eerie excitement.

Kally went pale.

Pax’s eyes glanced down to the Roman’s tattoo. Bardking’s sleeves were rolled up, to avoid a full blood soaking. From what Pax could tell, above the medical gloves, there was a symbol of a harp above two bars.

He felt a knot tie in his stomach.

“Tell me,” Jack sang softly, “Little brother—”

“Flash,” Alabaster snarled, hovering his fingers over the collar rune on his sleeve. But the matching tattoo around Jack’s neck was only half there—the circle had been broken where his skin had been hacked. And a broken magic circle—as any fantasy nerd should know—wouldn’t work.

Jack started to sing, “Have you ever danced with the devil—MMPH!”

Pax pulled his sleeve over his fist and shoved it into Jack’s mouth.

Jack grunted and gave muffled, indignant wails.

There was a collective sigh from everyone except Lou Ellen. “You know, Alabaster and I could have just convinced him there was a gag in his mouth,” she said.

“Do you wanna try and do that now?” Kally asked, looking disgusted by Pax’s predicament. After this, Pax would really need to get Jack to brush his—Pax would really need to brush Jack’s teeth for him. No one should have to have Pax’s hand in their mouth.

“No,” Lou Ellen said cheerfully, “I’d rather see Ajax try to sanitize his hand later. I’m going to go check on Miranda and steal her nose before she wakes up.”

Pax almost went to wave Lou Ellen off, but had to reremember his dominate hand was in Jack’s mouth. By the time he was ready to wave, she had already skipped away.

Kally nudged Bardking’s shoulder. “Hey,” she said. Despite blushing in her attempt to be authoritarian, she tried to sound firm. “These guys are good guys.” She nodded to Alabaster and Pax. Merry would have been proud—Kally was sounding less like a doormat each day.

“Aw, you didn’t even hesitate to nod at me, Cyclops!” Pax cheered.

“I’m sorry,” Bardking grumbled. He took a deep breath in, like it was painful, and turned his full attention to Alabaster. “What you did for us was—”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Alabaster cut him off. There was a hint of panic in his voice. Pax could tell Alabaster still didn’t know what to think of helping: if he should feel disgusted with himself for aiding who he did or relieved he’d saved lives.

Either way, Bardking scowled at his response. “Regardless of your intention—”

“Alabaster,” Kally cut into Bardking’s exquisite use of tact. She sounded rushed and nervous. “Would you be willing to go back in with Lou Ellen to pull out more campers? No one else can go in yet, and we were discussing the campers might be safer out here, under the Romans’ protection—”

Pax could see Alabaster’s fingers go white as he clenched his Cloven Terror helm. It was one thing when Alabaster went in there out of instinct—to stop a thug from forcing his will onto others—but another when he had to make a conscious decision, especially when being asked by a hot Greek like Kally.

Before this could degrade into a fight about gods, justice, the universe, and other boring, unimportant stuff, Pax removed his hand from Jack’s mouth, grabbed the ends of Alabaster’s sleeve, and dragged him further along the caution tape, away from Kally and Bardking.

“Ajax!” Kally started to call.

“Wait—I have vital intel about Phobetor that I need to give Alabaster before he goes in there—it could be the difference between the safety or destruction of the camp and its cute bunnies!” Pax called over his shoulder.

Alabaster stumbled along without resistance. When they were a few yards from the others and it became apparent Kally and Bardking weren’t going to follow them, Alabaster reached a hand forward. Pax assumed Alabaster was going to scold Pax, so was stunned when Alabaster squeezed Pax’s hand and whispered, “Thank you, Ajax.”

Pax felt his heart do back-flip, pull out a giant foam finger, and sprint around his ribcage in a victory lap.

Just as quick, Alabaster pulled his hand away.

“He really likes monologues,” Pax blurted.

“Excuse me?” Alabaster slowed their walking pace and raised an exhausted eyebrow at Pax. From the way his shoulders sagged, Pax could tell who needed to curl up with the weasels and Harvey after this.

“That’s an important piece of intel about Phobetor. You can’t get that intel everywhere, you know,” Pax said. His legs were shaking. Maybe they both needed to curl up with the weasels. Pax could feel his cheeks redden, but remembered how angry Alabaster had been when Pax snuck into his room.

“Is that why you brought me out here?” Alabaster asked. In the glare of the floodlights, those emerald Hecate eyes seemed to glow.

Pax glanced around them. Most of the Romans were further back in the strawberry field, attending to the bodies Alabaster and Lou Ellen had pulled over. Lou Ellen was running back through the strawberry fields, presumably to retrieve more people. Ahead of them, Pax was pleased to spot an easy excuse.

Thalia, Euna, and some blonde huntress were talking ahead. Judging from their posture, they must have just met up. It looked like the blonde huntress was giving a report. Euna waited patiently to the side, staring into the strawberry fields.

“No,” Pax said definitively. He reached back over to take Alabaster’s sleeve again, wishing it was his hand. “I wanted to eavesdrop on Euna and Thalia’s conversation and make it look casual. Pretend we’re talking about battles or how hot Kally is or something.”

Alabaster smiled softly and Pax felt his insides melt, like the times Pax forgot his Reese’s Sticks in the Paxmobile over summers and Axel clobbered him for the mess afterwards. He hadn’t seen Alabaster smile like that in so long.

Pax couldn’t help Alabaster with his smart-person ethical problems with Camp Half-Blood… but… “Where’s Claymore?” he asked.

“In my pocket—No, he’s not an action figure.”

Pax had been about to gasp in excitement. Now, Pax’s hopes for a grumpy, middle-aged action figure (with motion-activated scathing remarks) were dashed before they could fully form. “Should you talk to Claymore about this?”

They slowed to a shuffle, and Pax remembered following Alabaster around Camp Othrys when they were collecting samples off of monsters for Alabaster’s hexes. Pax had crafted many carrying bags so he could always keep one hand free to hold Alabaster’s sleeve. Alabaster’s freckled face would crunch with calculation, the same way it did now, as he used his spare hand to review a list of ingredients he needed.

“Probably. He hates being locked away as a Mist card for too long anyway,” Alabaster mused.

Despite their slow pace, they were almost to the two huntresses and the daughter of Demeter.

Pax puffed up and popped his cheeks. He was normally so good at blurting stuff he wasn’t supposed to. Now that he really needed to, all he could think about was that time Morpheus decided to teach everyone how to disco and was sad half the dancers were asleep by the end.

All he wanted to do was explain Lamia. To tell Alabaster about the time he’d accidentally—for once actually accidentally—eavesdropped on Jack and Luke’s conversation when he went to ask Jack for advice.

“She’ll try to kill Alabaster when Ajax tells her that he didn’t mean this as some creepy courtship.”

“We can’t have the two most powerful children of Hecate fighting over a Mayan brat, Jack.”

“My boys will only dally for whom their hearts and loins yearn. Ajax is thirteen. He’s too young for that crazy monster bitch. And, Alabaster is a big kid. He can take care of himself.”

“Not if any children of Hecate side with Lamia. Besides, have you forgotten Ajax’s current situation? Starting a war between two useful resources certainly sounds like something a double crossing spy would do.”

Pax had hated it. He hated it when Lamia dressed him in children’s clothing that were four thousand years out of mode and when she called him Demetrius or Altheia. The names of her dead children. Something… something about it reminded him of Santiago shoving him into that horrible burgundy dress shirt and slicking back his hair.

He’d especially hated the look on Alabaster’s face when Alabaster blasted him out of the laboratory on hearing everything. Well, he hated being blasted. Being blasted hurt.

Maybe, had he told Alabaster then, Alabaster would have stayed. Maybe the Battle of Mount Othrys wouldn’t have been such a disaster. Maybe Alabaster wouldn’t have let Flynn—

“Do you remember that time Morpheus tried to teach Axel how to disco?” Pax blurted. More than his legs were shaking now. He could imagine the next iteration of man that the gods would make. Not out of wood or clay. Jell-O people.

“What?” Alabaster asked with a quiet laugh. “I’m not sure water from the Lethe River could cleanse that from my mind, but that’s not what you were going to say.”

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them again. Alabaster ought to write a Care Guide for the Annoying Pax for Kally with how well this boy could read him. Not that it would matter soon.

They’d stopped walking.

Pax enlaced his fingers with Alabaster’s. “We’re still friends, right?” Pax asked.

Alabaster pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “You’re as annoying, ill-timed, and tactless as ever,” he muttered. Alabaster sidestepped closer to him, so the Romans couldn’t see their hands. Pax held his breath, thinking maybe he could find some loop in the laws of physics to keep Alabaster’s arm pressed against his shoulder forever.

He could feel Alabaster’s reluctance to speak. “Jack told me everything when I found him.” He nodded to Pax’s belt.

By now, Pax could tune out Jack’s humming and had completely forgotten there was another person with them. Considering how loud Jack usually was, his surrogate father’s tune was quiet; Pax almost couldn’t recognize Can You Feel the Love Tonight?

“But, Jack’s mind was also even worse after Tartarus. And he’d say or do anything for you and Axel…”

Jack made a, “Mm-hm,” of affirmation before continuing to hum.

“Ah,” was all Pax could say.

“I didn’t know if what he said was true until I saw you. And even then… I’m still pissed at you for not telling me.” Alabaster’s grip became uncomfortably tight on Pax’s hand. “I would have never thought you were Rome’s spy had you told me. It made me think—if you could keep Lamia from me—what else could you lie about.”[2]

Pax wanted to give Jack a hug, though that might be kinda… gross currently. He’d made stuff way easier for the two of them. Pax felt his eyes water when Alabaster relaxed his grip. What he really wanted to do was give Alabaster a hug. He didn’t hate him! That fact alone was enough to warrant a party, complete with moon bounce.

“But yea, we’re still friends.” Alabaster’s gaze narrowed as he clarified, “Just friends… Now let go of my hand.”

Pax grinned at him. “No.”

Alabaster touched the fire rune on his sleeve.

“You never had time to recharge it,” Pax teased, “I checked.”

Alabaster’s eyes widened, staring over Pax’s shoulder. “Ajax.”

“Witch Boy, I’m the master of diversion. Do you really think I’ll fall for—”

“Phobetor is back.”

And, judging by the way Alabaster gestured, was standing right behind Pax.

“Cho…” Pax grumbled.

Thank you for reading! :D I hope everyone is having an awesome winter break and fantastic holidays if you’re celebrating!

Footnotes:

[1] Rule by thieves.

[2] Ajax made a natural scapegoat for Rome’s actual spy, since he pretty much lives to act dodgy. More about this and why people suspected him in book 5! Shameless plug! Stay tuned!

#The Attrition of Peace #Heroes of Olympus #Traitors of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #writing #Alabaster #Pax #Lou Ellen #Matthias #Connor Stoll #Kally #Jack #Ric Bardking #Some ol'fashion necormancy

6 notes · View notes