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your-nanas-house · 2 months

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Soooo I was thinking Cillian X Fan! reader. He takes advantage of the fact that reader admires him sm and uses her for his pleasure…

I'm so so sorry, it took me so long but I was really really smitten with this idea! 🙇🏼‍♀️

Out with the dog

◇ Pairing: Dark!Cillian Murphy X younger fan!Reader

◇ Warnings: SMUT, Cilly is a perv and bit dark, DUBCON, manipulation, bit mean Cilly (?), oblivious fem reader, fluff, frustration and stress.

◇ Summary: Cillian has company during his daily walk with his dog, Scout.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. I didn't proof read it... I mean I don't re-read my works normally but I just wanted to point it out this time in case I wrote some shit. Enjoy!!! Also thank you @kiss-me-cill-me for your advices and motivation! 🫶🏻

It wasn't at all what he was expecting when he left the house just to take the family dog for a walk.

The twisted thoughts and stress that had been troubling him all day had become even more insistent with the cool Dublin air and the fall of evening. His mind was really elsewhere when a soft and shy voice interrupted his trail of thoughts, making him realize that he was standing in the same spot, staring at nothing, since a while now.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to bother you but... I'm a huge fan of your work and—" the voice cracked softly, the younger girl that was standing in front of him looked quite nervous and shy which made him smile slightly.

"I-I-I... sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted you" she quickly apologized, her body telling him that she was going to just walk quickly off... too ashamed of the interaction to actually look him in the eyes again.

"Don't worry..." Cillian started, waiting for her name as he removed his sunglasses, flattering his eyes softly when the dim light hit him. She was very pretty and at least 10 years younger than him for sure, he thought while taking her in.

"Y/n!... Y/n" the young woman revealed nervously, her hands shaking awkwardly, a thing that Cillian noticed immediately and that made him smile a little as soon as she tried to hide it by grabbing into her bag... both hands holding the strap making his breath get bit heavier.

He sure was stressed and frustrated, he thought as his eyes remained on her smaller hands as they moved slightly while she talked... up and down, up and down.

Gosh, he really would have loved to have them wrapped around his cock like that, he was certain that those tiny pretty hands weren't that innocent for sure.

"Beautiful name" he commented with a tiny smile in an attempt to distract himself by his pervy intrusive thoughts. He really didn't need to deal with an article of some random magazine commenting on him walking around Dublin with a noticeable hard-on after talking with a younger woman.

She sure was a pretty thing though, from her hair to her eyes down to her breasts and— he needed to keep hold on himself. What gotten into him? He never objectified a woman like that... it wasn't like him.

He needed to keep going with his walk, clear his mind, regain back the control he usually had and—

"I was actually hoping for a bit of company... would you like to walk with me?... and my dog" the proposal slipped out of the older man unconsciously, as his gaze darkened slowly, his body reacting almost animalisticly... like a hungry predator ready to eat his prey.

Fuck, he cursed in his head, looking away as he waited for a reply from her... a poor way to distract himself from her innocent presence. Poor because the wind was apparently against him as well that evening... blowing her sweet scent towards him so that his nostrils could take her even more in.

The Irishman really hoped silently for her rejection peppered with some tender excuse that could have been true or could have been false... he didn't care much.

But of course, things hadn't been going the way he'd hoped all day so why be surprised when he got a shy yes instead of an embarrassed no.

He couldn't complain though, after the stressful week he had... bit of female company could have been the cure, maybe he was able to do some kind of conversation and focus his mind elsewhere and not on her body... but rather on her brain.

...

The soft breeze started to hit them harder, the walk was going well and the small talk was pretty enjoyable, they talked about lots... changing from deep to light, from silly to serious, from sad to happy.

Cillian was really enjoying her presence, her mature thoughts and her friendly personality. His stress and tension could have flown away if it was for her.... moving lips.

Soft looking, pinkish due to the lipstick she had on and very kissable... the actor could clearly imagine them wrapped around his cock. Wetting it all with her warm mouth as her lips would have painted his bases of that pink— pink, he repeated in his head as his Adam's apple bobbed. He needed to change topic quickly and stop focusing on her goddamn lips.

"What do you think of Barbenheimer?" The Irishman asked, slapping himself mentally for the question.

Just keep walking, Cillian, focus on walking... don't look at her... and her pretty blouse that was getting opened by the wind, exposing bit more of her neckline as it moved the fabric of her shirt as well. Damn wind.

He had reached a point where he couldn't even focus on her speaking, the feeling of being on the edge was getting harder as time passed... he was sure that a little push would have made him completely loose his rational thoughts. And then that's when Scout, his dog, decided to just sprint to reach something... making him loose the lazy grip he had on the leash and make the young woman run after him.

Cillian went quickly after them, his mind trying to stay in focus as he saw her skirt rise up at every bounce she did to snatch the leash for him before anything bad could happen. He was quite sure now that she was hiding a pretty revealing underwear under that modest outfit she was wearing.

"There you go, good boy" her soft voice praised as she kneeled down to pet the dog and take the leash, too busy snuggling with him to notice Cillian's gaze on her bouncing breasts.

She wasn't wearing a bra, he cursed under his breath again, his body too warm because of the jogging, his heart drumming harder against his chest as he tried to calm down and focusing on his breathing... and not her heavy.. panting and sexy one.

When the young woman stood back up and brushed her smaller hand against his to give him the leash... Cillian's self-control reached the end

"Thank you" he murmured in a more low tone as his body started to react at his impulses.

By the way her eyes kept shining as she looked at him, he knew that with a bit of pressure he could have made her do whatever he wanted... but was it really what he wanted? He pondered as his feet made him change the route he normally took when out with Scout, leading the oblivious young woman in a dark alley.

"I agree, things are pretty different nowadays" the older actor commented as he mentioned the conversation they were having, his heart beating even faster as he thought quickly of a plan.

Was he really going to take advantage of that kind fan of him? Was he really that desperate and frustrated?

Questions kept filling his head as his eyes remained on the wet street, lost in thoughts

"Do you do this path every day?" Y/n's voice interrupted the silence, making his baby blue eyes look back at her.

Yes, he was.

"Mhhm.. but I take usually the parallel street" he informed her while looking around to be sure that they were alone. The oblivious and curious look on her pretty face was making him harder than ever, making the uncomfortable feeling become a painful one now.

As soon as the Irishman was sure that there was Noone around he let go casually of the leash, whistling to order something to Scout who... after giving a look at his master headed in a run towards the beginning of the alley, sitting there as a guard. Watching around to warn Cillian if someone would have approached.

A glance at his black dog and he acted, not letting Y/n even questioning him before pressed his plumpy lips against hers as the dark swallowed them more now that her body was pressed against the cold and humid wall.

His big hands moved eargerly to her face and neck to keep her tilted like he wanted so to facilitate the kiss he was stealing.

Her neck was soft and tempting, he could easily leave a mark if he wanted but he didn't had so much time.. so he had to take things faster than he hoped.

As the kiss broke he inhaled deeply, letting his nose brush against hers as his thumbs caressed her skin... he didn't dare to open his eyes and meet her probably wide eyes and swollen lips... his cock was already throbbing and if he did that small action he was sure that the seed he was hoping to shoot in her would have just soiled his trousers.

"Damn, darling" Cillian cursed softly, licking his lips before diving down to kiss her neck while pressing his body against hers in an attempt of finding some friction and swallow her in his lust.. caging her body against the bricks even more.

"Do you want to help me, dear?" he asked softly, stroking her neck slowly as his piercing eyes now watched her carefully, noticing the glimpse of insecurity that was in her wide beautiful eyes

"Bet you want to, hm? Or I could just go to another fan of mine. Bet they would die to have a chance like this, darling... acting less ungrateful than you" he softly threatened in his low voice. His irish accent echoing in her head as he manipulated her young mind.

Of course she wanted to help him, he was her idol and favourite actor of all times... she couldn't really risk it and watch his disappointment towards her. She didn't wanted to be faced by his oh-so famous judgy face.

But the embarrassment and hesitance were there as well... she had a dignity and couldn't just allow him to use her like that, right?

Of course, it was something she dreamed about but was she really ready for that? She didn't even try casual sex in her lige yet. But she sure didn't want him to go to another fangirl and his intense gaze was like a poker face to her... so she was stuck on not knowing whatever he was telling the truth or not.

"I don't have the whole day, darling" Cillian's low voice commented as his gaze shifted towards the spot where his dog was still sitting.

Y/n glances at him again, gulping while trying to silence the battles in her head. She really didn't know what to do, what if it wasn't like he expected or if it would turn out to be a mistake.

"Ok!... Y-Yes, I-I want to help you, Mr. Murphy" Y/n stammered out when the actor started to move away from her.

Her heart beated hard against her chest, making her breath get caught in her throat as her hands started to sweat when he hummed and undoed his pants, pulling out his hard cock without hesitation or patience.

"That's a good girl, get on your knees" his low voice ordered before he moved slowly his tip against her lips, painting them with his pre-cum as he thrusted slightly forward to let them wrap around his red tip.

"That's it... suck" Cillian's voice ordered, allowing to be teased a bit before snapping his hips forward, making her hit her head against the wall and gag around his lenght. "Fuck, love" he cursed with a growl, letting her adjust to him before starting to fuck her mouth till he nearly reached his edge.

The actor's first intention was to just burry his cock deep in her throat and cum there but as his icy eyes wandered down to her kneeled form... and stopped on her clinging thighs the need to feel her young cunt around him became a must.

With a slow motion he moved away from her, letting her breath properly as she dried her spit while catching her breath. Tears already adorning her cheeks... she really was beautiful, the man repeated to himself as a mocking coo left him.

His big hands strokes the soft flesh of her cheeks as he made her get up so that he could smash his lips back against hers, forcing a hungry, toothy kiss that luckily slowed down when she reciprocated it.

Her bare leg was hooked up at his narrow hip, allowing his cock to brush her clothed folds with his help.

He was right... she really was wearing some thing revealing panties, arousing and innocent enough to make him just want to fuck her with them on. His thick finger made its way towards her entrance, curling around the fabric to move it with ease so that it was now half-hugging his lenght... allowing her folds to wet his cock while the panties squeezed it as he thrusted.

His leaking tip kept smearing his pre-cum on her spot skin and onto the fabric of her skirt each time it touched it. The hardness of it managed to gift some attention to her clit as well while his thrusts sped up.

Cillian could feel her juices dripping from his cock down to his balls and the underwear squeeze harder around him now that he was moving them in a difference pace.

It didn't took him much to reach his own peak, his body was quickly shaking and limp against her as his warm cum decorated her clothes. He was too desperate to care or to stop himself so that he could have used her pussy to pleasure him a bit more... not that he complained. He was fully satisfied, sweat was running down his forehead as he breathed heavily against her shoulder as he slowly got down his peak, his thrusts slowing down till he was too overstimulated to receive any further touch.

"Darling... can I keep your panties?... So that I can wash them and give them back to you clean, of course" Cillian casually asked, fixing her hair in a tender manner while brushing slowly his thumb on her swollen lips, watching her panting.

Guess the destiny decided for us... we will meet soon again, darling. Just to give you back your undergarments, of course, he thoughts as he tucked himself back and fixed his clothes, ready to continue the little walk they were having previously.

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dduane · 11 months

Text

(while going through some casual photos:)

How You Pull Ivy Off The Wall

(I was outside in front of the house one morning, trying to pull this effing tenacious crap off, and breaking my nails... and then I thought: "Why am I doing this? I'm a nurse. We have a tool for this kind of bullshit.")

...And lo and behold, we do. :)

ETA per @maybeasunflower's questions:

(a) What makes the gynecological clamps better? They were sort of spoon-shaped at the ends, with little grabby teeth on the insides of the "spoons". You could grab much more of an ivy stem with them. My regrets that I can't summon up their proper name from the depths of time. ...Must make a run up to the surgical supply place in Dublin and see if they've got any.

(b) Which rotation in your nurse training gave you the skills to remove ivy with Foley clamps? Med-surg. Debridement: i.e. debriding someone who's fallen off a motorcycle at speed onto gravel while not wearing leathers or other protective garments. Getting the deeply-embedded gravel out of the damaged tissue requires a very similar skillset. Fortunately, when working with ivy one needs to have far less concern about handling the process in such a way as to cause minimum pain to the substrate you're removing it from. The wall doesn't care. :)

#ivy is really tough #but is it tougher than Foley clamps #I THINK NOT #(I wish I had a pair of the ones we used to use for gynecological surgeries though)#(that would be even better)#tw: discussion of medical procedure (debridement)

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bellaxgiornata · 8 months

Text

Whatever You Want

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inevitably your mind began to wander.

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

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

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

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

“Where ya at, love?”

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

“Upstairs, Mikey. Just doing the laundry.”

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

“Missed ya, pet,” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” you asked him softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

°•°•°•°•°•°

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” he replied with a nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then quit."

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

" Quit ?" you asked him in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"One Hundred Years of Solitude?" he asked.

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

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #michael kinsella fluff #bellas comfort fic week #kin amc

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i-love-def-leppard · 8 months

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Welcome Home (Def Leppard x Reader)

A/N: Hi everyone!! This is my first time ever writing something, let alone a fan-fiction so I’m a little nervous posting this. I am open to constructive criticism to improve my writing, which I promise will get better as time goes on. That being said, I hope you all enjoy my first story ever [EEEEKKKK]!!

🫶🏻 i-love-def-leppard

Dublin 1981 - Me and My Wine house

I walked up the rain stained steps of my home, thinking about how glad I was to finally be here after a long day of work.

Managing the local record store is something I am very grateful for. However, just like any other type of work environment, a few rude customers can quite literally turn my day to shit.

Quickly pushing my negative thoughts away, I step into the main entrance of my happy place as my nose becomes overwhelmed by the smell of someone cooking.

“Boooyyysss!! I’m homeee!!”

Immediately as those words leave my mouth, I become trampled by the one and only, Joe Elliott, running his way out the kitchen with pasta sauce stains on his shirt.

“Y/N, love! GOSH! The lord knows how much I’ve missed you and your precious face all day!”

He says as he releases his hands from my face while going in for a hug, never forgetting to leave a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

Suddenly raising his eyebrows with a smirk plastered on his adorable face, he says,

“Are you wearing what I think you’re wearin?!”

Quickly remembering that I’m wearing my cropped, v-neck, red Leppard tank top (paired with dark blue flare jeans and one of the boys leather jackets), I blush at his wandering eyes and proud facial expression.

“Well, duh Joe, of course!”

I say playfully shoving his chest.

“I’m very proud of you boys and how far you’ve all come with the band. Of course I’m gonna show you lot off any chance I get.”

“You are too good to us, love.” a new voice says from around the corner.

“Sav!!”

You exclaim, making your way around Joe’s figure to enter the curly haired bassist’s open arms.

Pulling away slowly from the embrace, Sav says,

“Nice outfit, Y/N/N.”

He smirks as his eyes trail down your form.

Leaving you blushing as always, he gives you no time to respond as he says,

“Anyone give you problems at the store today? Cause if they did, I swear on all things holy, I’ll-”

Sav’s words were suddenly cut off by two pairs of loud footsteps making their way down the stairs.

“I CALL DIBS ON HUGGING HER FIRST” yells Phil to his terror twin.

“Not if I get to her first, SLOW POKE!” Steve replies.

“I’m not slow Steve! I can beat you all day in a swimming race!” a furious Phil throws back.

“Yeah, alright merman. We all know you have some weird obsession with the water. Now knock it off in front of the lady.”

Steve says as he swiftly walks away from Phil pouting at the bottom of the stairs.

Laughing, you approach the taller blonde guitarist.

“Hi Steve. I’ve missed you.”

You say as you are engulfed in yet another Leppard hug.

His smell of cigarettes and signature cologne always gave you a comfort like no other.

“Apologies for Mr. Grumpy-pants, love” pointing at Phil.

“Now, I’d keep you in a hug all day if I could, but I’d upset blondie over there if I didn’t share you at least a little.”

Steve adds as he reluctantly removes his hands from around your waist.

“C’mere Phil” you look to him as you initiate a hug, giving him a sweet kiss on his cheek.

Instantly forgetting his small battle with Steve, a now relieved Phil whispers in your ear.

“Thank god your home. I’ve had to deal with them all day.”

Giggling at his words you see a sudden idea appear on his face.

“Y/N. Why don’t you take a break at that record store and let us take care of you. Come with us on our next tour, for the whole thing!”

“Then this way, we could see you all the time!”

“Phil, I’m only gone a few hours a day during the week haha” you reply.

“Just think about it, okay.” Phil slightly begs.

“Alright I will. And Phil, you’re sweet. You know I’d love that more than anything, but I’ve gotta contribute somehow” you reply.

“Aye! I know a way she can contrib-” Joe says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Oh shut it Joe” says Rick as he finally makes an appearance.

“I mean I wouldn’t be opposed to-” joins in Sav.

Rick is quick to slap Sav on the arm, while the rest of the group, including you, giggle at their dirty remarks.

Rick’s always been very protective of you, which you loved.

It’s no secret that the boys were all attracted to you in one way or another, and you to them.

Their constant flirtatious behavior was nothing new to you and you secretly loved it. They all knew that.

Pulling Rick in for the final hug, you can’t help but realize how grateful you are for your boys.

Snapping you out of your appreciative daydream, you feel Joe grab your hand.

You are suddenly being pulled out of Rick’s arms, into the direction of the kitchen.

“C’mon love. Into the kitchen we go!” Joe says.

“I’ve made dinner!” he grins.

“Ughhh” everyone in the room groans.

“We left him unsupervised for 30 minutes and he manages to sneak himself into the kitchen. Unbelievable.” a nervous Rick replies.

Shaking my head at their silliness, I can’t help but be forever grateful for getting to come home to this everyday.

My boys.

THE END!!!! Thank you for reading🩷🩷

#def leppard fan fiction #def leppard one shot #def leppard x reader #joe elliott #rick savage #phil collen #rick allen #steve clark #works by i-love-def-leppard #def leppard fanfic #joe elliott fanfiction #rick savage fanfic #steve clark fanfiction #Rick Allen fanfic #Phil collen fanfic

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hannahssimblr · 3 months

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Chapter Twenty-Five

Jude flies home to a city that’s bursting with the first blooms of summer. I wake up to a Dublin that feels more colourful to the one I fell asleep in, because he’s home, and the mere fact of that makes every aspect of my life feel sunnier. It takes him hours to get through arrivals at the airport and drop all of his things off at his parents house, so by the time I spot him turning the corner by the railings of Fitzwilliam Square I have gone beyond the point of excitement and entered a state of genuine agony.

I throw open the door to him before he has a chance to knock. “Hello Evie,” He says, and he looks every bit as tanned and sleek and sexy as he did when we said goodbye at Paphos airport. None of the time in between then and now feels meaningful anymore.

“Good flight?” I say, and he’s kissing me deeply and kicking the door shut behind him, and I realise as he puts his hands on me and backs me towards the stairs that kissing is never going to be enough for either of us ever again.

“I missed you,” He murmurs on the landing, and he’s already taking his t-shirt off.

“Yeah, same,” I say, and almost stumble over yesterday’s discarded doc Martens boots inside the door of my bedroom.

“That’s good then, we’ve catching up to do.” He lifts me off the floor and tosses me onto the bed where he comes down on top of me so he can kiss my throat and slide his hands up my skirt. We don’t bother getting undressed all the way, there isn’t time, and anyway, as he told me before, he’s kind of into the idea of being half dressed.

“I think I’m impatient by nature,” He said one late night on the phone, “and sometimes I just don’t want to wait additional seconds to take things off, Like, why waste any time with buttons and things, I don’t want to undo every one of those. And doesn’t being in a rush make it hotter anyway?”

“You like it when someone is oh-so-desperate for you that they lose their mind and they can’t possibly wait, okay, I hear you,” I said, and I meant it in a teasing, eye-rolling kind of way, but now as he yanks my underwear out of the way and battles the elastic waistband of his tracksuit pants and I’m feeling suitably desperate I think I understand what he meant.

“God, I thought I’d never get home to you,” He says, and he sounds relieved. I like that he does, and I like that he referred to me as something that’s part of his home like his life is in someway incomplete without me in it.

“It wasn’t easy when you were gone,” I whisper.

“Yeah, it was the worst. I don’t want to do that anymore, I couldn’t really stand it. I just wanted to be here.”

“Don’t leave me anymore.”

“I won’t, I won’t… Let’s not even leave this room.”

And we don’t. For a whole day and night we stay in, and we make good on all of the promises we made to each other in our texts and phone calls. I love how present he is with me, how much he speaks to me, looks at me, checks on me like he cares every bit as much about what I like and how I like it as he does about himself. And when I mess something up he always says it’s okay, and when things go wrong we laugh and try it again.

“Does that feel good?” He’ll say. “Let me help you. Here. That’s it. Did I hurt you? You want it a bit rougher? Like this. Do you prefer when I’m on top?”

And as he’s learning all of these things about me, concentrating on whether I like a hand over my throat, how hard he can go before it hurts, I think, in the moments when I can think, about how entirely different this is from what I was doing before, how what I called sex then couldn’t possibly have been sex, because this and that are too far removed to be defined in the same way or to be reasonably compared. There should be more words for what this is.

“Tired?” He says to me, and it’s five in the morning, maybe. The sun will come up soon.

“No, are you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to sleep yet.”

“We should then.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” He says, which is bullshit, because he crashes within three minutes. I don’t mind. He’s beautiful when he sleeps, and I can’t help but look at him with the cool haze of twilight across his face. The silence of the early summer light transports me to a teenage morning, somewhere, of dew on my ankles, the roar of the sea in the distance. Nobody in Dublin is awake but me. I kiss both his eyelids and rest my head on his chest. I love him. I should probably tell him that eventually.

I wake up after he does, but he’s still with me. He’s looking at his phone, and when I roll over and nestle my head onto his chest so that I can look too I see that he is composing an email.

“What’s that?” I wonder sleepily.

“It’s a job application, there’s an investment firm in Sandyford looking for a graphic designer.”

“Uh,” I say, because it’s too early to process the meaning of things like investment firms. “Are you qualified for that?”

“I have a degree in fine arts.”

“Isn’t it different from graphic design though?”

He scratches his head, “Yeah but it’s fine, these finance people don’t know the difference. I have some stuff in my portfolio that’s sort of graphic-design-adjacent, and I’m pretty sure it’ll be alright. It’s all the same to them, they just want someone to make ads for them.”

“Hm,” I say, and scan the portion of the cover letter he’s already written, “Are you interested in that sort of thing?”

“No, not especially,” He says, “But I’d like to get a job in Dublin, you know, just for a year or so so that I can stay here while you finish college.”

“That’s considerate of you.”

He laughs, “But?”

“But nothing,” I close my eyes again and nestle back into the cool side of my pillow. He’s running a little bit too hot to be lying on top of anyway. He prods my arm. “That felt like a loaded statement.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” I pause for a moment and then turn over to peer at him through half shut eyes, “But…”

His eyebrows quirk up, “But?”

“But I don’t think you should apply for a job that you’re not going to like just because you think you have to get something.”

“Okay but I don’t really want to sit around in my parents house for a year doing nothing.”

“Why don’t you just look for jobs that you like? Why are you compromising right off the bat?”

He gives me a look which makes me understand I’m missing something. “There’s no work relevant to my interests in Ireland, Evie. I’ll need to just find something to tide me over for a while.”

“Really? There’s no work at all in film props or anything like that?”

“No, Ireland’s not really a great place to do what I want to do.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

He strokes the hair at the nape of my neck and goes back to tapping out the email, “That’s okay, it’s just how it is. A job like this one will be fine, and the pay is okay too.”

“Imagine what kind of place that will be to work. Do you think you’ll have to wear a suit and tie?”

“I hope not.”

I’m giggling now because I have new amusing ideas about how it might be to work in an investment firm, “Do you think they’ll all stand around the water coolers and say things like ‘it’s hump day!’ or ‘can’t wait for the weekend!’?”

“Yes, and there won’t be any women working there, and the average age will be 54.”

“And they’ll make you do raffles all the time, and sign birthday cards for people you’ve never even spoken to.”

“Yeah, Alan in HR is turning 49, better contribute a tenner to his gift.”

I roll onto my back laughing because the idea of it all is so absurd. I wonder how on earth anybody can stomach it. An investment firm.

Jude is biting his lip thoughtfully though, perhaps weighing it all up, picturing himself in that place, in a stuffy suit, using the bathroom in a cubicle with a flickering fluorescent light and eating a sad sandwich at his desk, and the look on his face makes it all a bit less hilarious.

“Good money though,” I say, and he nods, quickly hiding his emotions with a grin, “God,” he growls, and pulls me into him to mess up my hair, “The things I’d do to stay here, huh?”

“If you stay here you get me,” I point out, and he pecks the crown of my head, “Yeah, see that’s what’d make it worth it.”

I nestle in under his arm and join him in his examination of his phone. He lets me read the cover letter, which makes a lot of grand claims about his hard working nature and team player attitude, and when he asks for my opinion of it I tell him it’s fine, because what would I know?

“Okay then I’m sending it.”

“Yes! Do it.”

He hesitates, “This is a good idea,” He says, and I can’t tell if it’s a statement or a question.

“Send it.”

“I’m sending it.”

He sends it, and I wonder if I should cheer or something, but I don’t. In fact there’s no ceremony about it whatsoever, he just tosses his phone onto the duvet where it instantly gets swallowed up in the folds, “Now, I don’t want to think about that anymore.”

“No?”

“No thanks, actually I’ve already moved on from it. What job application?”

“Never heard of it. What’s the next thing?”

“A bit of you, preferably, if you’re up for it,” and obviously I am, and I think, as he is putting me on top of him once again that I probably always will be up for it. I hope it will always be like this.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky girl part 3 #tw: sex

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petermorwood · 2 years

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More food photography.

The header and this...

... is Oven-Roasted Pumpkin antipasto with Olive Oil, Herbs and Pine Nuts. It’s intended for European Cuisines, and is based on this South Tyrol recipe.

We didn’t have any cherry tomatoes, though next time a can of chopped toms cooked right down then judiciously spooned about seems a good idea; we also added a sprinkle of crushed chillis for extra zing.

These are Baby Turnips in Berry-Pepper Butter, for Food and Cooking of the Middle Kingdoms.

@dduane says the plate looks too empty so we’ll have to re-do them with More Turnips.

Until she decided to reshoot with a different bowl and something to drink (a limited edition stout from The Porter House in Dublin) there were actually plenty of turnips.

However somewhere between end-of-shooting with that lot, and “let’s try again”, there seems to have been a certain amount of Eating The Props...

Oh dear. How sad. Never mind. :-D

This is Beef Heart with Red Wine, Onions, Bacon and Garlic, again for European Cuisines, here accompanied by Trofie and Strozzapreti tricolour pasta.

The recipe - dating back to the days of Minitel - is already there, but deserves a better photo.

If finding a heart is difficult or the thought of taking one apart is a bit too forensic, this treatment works just fine with other cheap tough cuts such as shin or oxtail; sear in advance for flavour and colour, then proceed as per the recipe. Long marination and slow cooking is what does the trick.

Here’s Geflügelragout (Roast Chicken Stew) from European Cuisines. Basically it’s a from-the-shop rotisserie chicken in a rich winey lemony sauce which can be made in advance and stored in fridge or freezer. (Make plenty...)

it’s going to be Brightwood Vintner’s Chicken in The Middle Kingdoms, because they really wouldn’t want to miss out on something this good.

DD’s recipe calls for a lemon cut into thick slices and all pips removed. These slices are then fished out afterwards along with the bay leaves.

My preference - I like lemons - is to slice the lemon as thin as possible (again, all pips removed) and at the end, when the bay leaves are gone and everything is pushed through a sieve, that everything will include the thin lemon slices.

Try it either way. Try it both ways.

Accompaniments could be mashed spuds, rice, Spätzli or even udon; in this example it’s Saffron-Pumpkin noodles; these can be made with a machine or by hand, though hand-cutting gives a pleasing irregular “rustic” result.

Some crusty bread to chase the last of the gravy is also a good idea, so none goes to waste. It really is that good. ;-)

#food and drink #food photography #european cuisines #food and cooking of the middle kingdoms #roasted pumpkin antipasto #saffron pumpkin noodles #beef heart with onions bacon and garlic #roast chicken stew #buttered baby turnips

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moversandmakersiesposts · 2 years

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Moving to a new home but have no clue how to get rid of the old one? Movers and Makers are one of the top-notch house removals Dublin companies. With a commitment to both customer service and environmental protection, you won't have to worry about a thing! If you're looking for a House Removals Dublin company, Movers and Makers is the right choice. We are professional and experienced. Give us a call at 071 90 100 10 to get a free quote and to schedule your appointment today!

#House Removals Dublin #movers and makers #house movers ireland #moving boxes ireland #packing supplies #movers and packers #moving boxes

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

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Leo Varadkar, Ireland’s first openly gay taoiseach, or prime minister, said Wednesday that he will step down as leader of the country — a shock move he said was for both “personal and political” reasons.

Varadkar, who became Ireland's youngest taoiseach in 2017, said he would also relinquish his leadership of the center-right Fine Gael party, which forms a ruling coalition government in Dublin along with Fianna Fáil and the Green Party.

“I’m proud that we have made the country a more equal and more modern place,” he told reporters gathered outside government buildings in Dublin.

Sounding emotional as he made the announcement, he said there was no “real reason” behind his decision and he "had nothing else lined up."

"I have nothing in mind," he added. "I have no definite personal or political plans.”

A senior Irish official told NBC News that the announcement would be “a bolt from the blue for the Irish public,” which “throws everything up in the air.” The official, who was not authorized to speak publicly on the matter, added that Varadkar, who trained as a physician “didn’t ‘see a lifetime in politics.”

Varadkar’s departure, which comes less than a week after he met with President Joe Biden at the White House, will not automatically trigger an election.

He said he had asked for a new leader of the party to be chosen on April 6, allowing a new prime minister to take office after Parliament’s Easter break.

The 45-year-old, whose mother is Irish and father is Indian, was the country’s youngest-ever leader when first elected, as well as Ireland’s first gay prime minister and first biracial prime minister

He served two terms as taoiseach, between 2017 and 2020 and again since December 2022.

During his time in office he oversaw referendums to change the Irish constitution, which legalized same-sex marriage and abortion.

But earlier this month he suffered humiliating defeats in two elections, when his countrymen overwhelmingly voted against proposed changes to the constitution that would have redefined marriage and removed “sexist” language.

Varadkar told reporters he knew his resignation would "come as a surprise to many people and a disappointment to some, but I hope you will understand my decision."

“Politicians are human beings, and we have our limitations,” he said.

#nunyas news

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bonfire-at-the-crossroads · 3 months

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Two weeks ago the Mee’s told me that the guy who I restored the two paintings for a little while ago - “is interested in maybe you cleaning some more…” and that he was going to call me.

We spoke - I thanked the .Mees, and they said “He’s very cheap, so be sure to bake in some extras that you can then remove, and make him feel he’s getting a bargain.”

We arranged for me to come out to his house because “there’s a LOT of paintings.”

Hoo boy.

A long winding drive up a hill, flanked by giant oaks - a tennis court, and an extraordinary Victorian stone mansion at the crest.

“My father collected art. The house has been sold, and must be cleared. I’m moving to Mullaghmore into a smaller home and can only take some of the favorites.”

I am in heaven. The walls are covered with paintings, lovely antique furniture, huge Asian vases, and bookcases filled with silver and statuary. Exquisite oriental rugs, the most incredible carved oak tall case clock I’ve ever seen ticks away in the hallway, and everywhere my eye falls - is a treasure.

The man collected what he liked - and although much of it is Victorian genre stuff - there are a few heart-stopping things which leave me breathless….

“Which pieces do you think are most valuable, and will bring enough at auction to justify the expense of your restoration? “

Welp.

When I stopped at the small Paul Henry landscape in the dining room - I told him “let’s start here” Henry is the single most famous and easily recognizable Irish artist imaginable. One of his paintings sold recently at Whytes in Dublin for €420,000.00.

“Funny.” Says the guy “Victor Mee walked right past that one.”

I took photos, signatures, and got terribly excited by the Jack Yeats, and the Alfred J Munnings sketch of a man on horseback jumping a fence….

I told him that many of the paintings should go to Whytes, Christie’s, Sothebys or Bonhams - and I did some research when I got home - sending him the artists, and a few of their sale prices. (Munnings paintings are well over a million dollars each…)

I took six tiny oils with me, and promised to return for the series of large hunt paintings from the living room.

I texted the MEE’s to tell them about the afternoon, the amazing, VALUABLE. paintings - and to thank them again for hooking me up.

“Did you TELL HIM?!” Comes right back at me…and …”ummmmm….yes?”

Turns out, they had a handshake agreement to SELL THE ENTIRE COLLECTION - and didn’t tell me. Now I’m in Dutch with the MEE’s? For answering the questions put to me, and for KNOWING what the fuck I was looking at?

Somebody should’ve SAID SOMETHING - and now it’s all six kinds of AWKWARD.

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year

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“Oath of Allegiance to Crown to Soon Vanish,” Kingston Whig-Standard. February 28, 1933. Page 1 & 12. ---- It Will Become Dead Letter in Anglo-Irish Free State Treaty - Senate Blocked de Valera Move But That Body Now Rendered Powerless ---- (By the Canadian Press) DUBLIN, Irish Free State, Feb, 28. - Sixty days from tomorrow the oath of allegiance to the British Crown will vanish from the constitution of the Irish Free State and become a dead letter in the Anglo-Irish treaty.

President Eamonn de Valera will effect its disappearance by a motion in the Dail Eireann invoking Article 38A of the constitution, rendering the Senate powerless to obstruct passage of his Oath Removal Bill any longer. The constitution provides that bills which the Senate refuses to pass in such a manner as to satisfy the Lower House will, at the expiration of fifteen months, become law despite the Senate. In the event the Dail is dissolved in the meantime, the waiting period is shortened to sixty days.

The oath question has dominated every election campaign since the Free State was founded and has caused endless acrimony and bitterness between large sections of the Irish people.

Section That Offends The section of the Treaty to which so many Irishmen have taken offence says:

"The oath to be taken by members of the Parliament of the Irish Free State shall be in the following form: I... do solemnly swear true faith and allegiance to the constitution of the Irish Free State as by law established and that I will be faithful to H. M. George V, his heirs and success by law, in virtue of the common citizenship of Ireland with Great Britain and her adherence to and membership of the group of nations forming the British Commonwealth of Nations."

It was on this section that Mr. de Valera and his followers in 1921 founded their objection to the treaty and refused to recognize it. William T. Cosgrove and his party, however, found no cause for complaint in the section and insured that the oath clause in the constitution which was framed later should be a strong one.

Made Mandatory Article 17 of the constitution made the oath mandatory. The Republicans refused to take it and remained outside the Dail, leaving Mr. Cosgrave and his adherents with a clear field.

For a while the Republicians pursued a policy of abstention, contenting themselves with getting elected to the Dail and boycotting the Assembly. At that time all the Republican forces were concentrated in one organization, styled "Sinn Fein" (literally "ourselves alone"), but they grew tired of abstention and loss of political capital in the few years that followed.

After the 1932 elections when Mr. de Valera found himself heading the Government for the first time he immediately attempted to remove the oath. He was blocked by the Senate, He is now in a position to force removal of the oath but is still faced with a possibility that this move will fail to satisfy left wing extremists including the old Sinn Fein,

#dáil Éireann #oath of allegiance #irish free state #saorstát Éireann #sinn fein #irish republicanism #ireland in the british empire #british empire #british monarchy #irish constitution #irish history

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leibal · 2 years

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Charleville is a minimal space located in Dublin, Ireland, designed by Scullion Architects. This project breathes new life into a compact artisan cottage in Dublin’s north inner city. Using a strategy of removing what was dilapidated, we leave remnants of previous extensions, allowing us to re imagine a new building in the ruins of the old house around the garden.

#minimalism #minimal #minimalist #minimalist interior #interior design #leibal

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thesunsethour · 1 year

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well. congratulations to the utter cowards in the irish government who voted to scrap the eviction ban. in the midst of the worst housing crisis this country has ever seen they are actively voting to make people homeless. 35% of politicians in the dáil and seanad are landlords. ireland is a country run by and for landlords.

do not ever forget the words of james connolly: “If you remove the English Army tomorrow and hoist the green flag over Dublin Castle., unless you set about the organization of the Socialist Republic your efforts will be in vain. England will still rule you. She would rule you through her capitalists, through her landlords, through her financiers, through the whole array of commercial and individualist institutions she has planted in this country and watered with the tears of our mothers and the blood of our martyrs.”

also, for a more modern example, remember the words of emmet kirwan: “It wasn’t blokes in tracksuits who ruined the country. It was blokes in suits”

either fine gael or fianna fáil have been in government every single year since we became an independent country. now they are in government together; and this is what they do. don’t forget this.

#i am so disgusted by this government it’s insane #there’s nowhere to fucking LIVE.#people and their CHILDREN will be made homeless #the housing crisis is their fault and fuck all is being done to fix it #but the same dickheads will still get re-elected #every time

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corkcitylibraries · 1 year

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Echoes of our Past | January 13th 1923

Librarian Richard Forrest takes a look at news highlights published in The Echo 100 years ago this week.

Cork Dockers Meet

The Cork dockers, coal carmen and storemen’s sections of the I.T.G.W.U. (Irish Transport and General Workers Union) met last night at Connolly Hall. The proceedings were protracted and concerned the proposed reduction of one shilling per day for time workers and a pro rata reduction for tonnage workers. It was agreed that a ballot on the issue be taken today. The ballot will close at 7 o’clock this evening and the result is expected to be announced at 9 tonight.

City Robberies Continue

Alarming robberies continue in the city. Buckley’s bedding manufactory on Lavitt’s Quay was entered by armed intruders as the workmen were being paid. Mr. Buckley strongly protested to no avail. Fortunately, some of the men had already received their pay and left. A somewhat mysterious robbery occurred at the G.P.O. last night. The postal side was locked up as usual at about 11 o’clock and everything reported to be in order. But when staff arrived this morning it was found that the safe had been broken into and bundles of £1 and 10 shilling notes amounting to £300 removed. A large amount of silver was left untouched.

Cork Quarter Sessions

Before the Honourable the Recorder of Cork K.C. Cornelius O’Sullivan, 1 Coburg Street, sought to recover the upper part of his house from James O’Sullivan, 1 Coburg Street. The evidence was that both had been tenants at the address to a Mrs. Vaughan. There was some controversy over a cellar which both claimed as part of their letting. Cornelius had since bought the entire premises and sought full possession to accommodate his family. Judgement was reserved.

President’s Residence Burned

Dublin was alarmed this morning by the news that President Cosgrave’s country residence at Rathfarnham has been destroyed by fire. Fortunately, no member of the Cosgrave family was at the residence at the time. For four hours the fire brigade battled with the flames and saved the servants section, the outhouses and much of the furniture. It seems that Republicans effected an entrance into the fine old Georgian mansion in the early hours and sprinkled petrol before initiating the conflagration. They detained a witness passer-by until the fire had gotten a firm hold. A caretaker occupying the lodge sixty yards away knew nothing about the outrage until awakened by the noise of falling masonry.

Sale of Arms

Washington – It is officially announced at the White House that no arms may be sold to any nation or any individual during President Harding’s administration.

Lunatic Asylum for Road Hogs

New York – The possibility of being sent to a lunatic asylum may have the effect of deterring “road hogs” pursuing their dangerous driving. This is the opinion expressed by Judge Charles L. Bartlett of Detroit who recently set a precedent by taking drivers guilty of excessive speed to the morgue to view the bodies of motor accidents. The Judge’s plan is to remand those found guilty for a mental test to be conducted by court appointed psychiatrist.

Viewing Venus

With the sun not rising till after 8 o’clock just now it is worthwhile rising a little earlier to see the planet Venus in all its glory. Epochs of maximum brightness are fairly frequent for Venus. They happen shortly before it reaches inferior conjunction when it dominates the eastern heavens as a morning “star”. Their greatest brilliance occur when the planet and the Earth are both almost at their nearest to the sun. These conditions obtain just now, the Earth making its nearest approach last Wednesday and Venus this Saturday.

Munster vs. Leinster

Munster and Leinster played at the Mardyke this afternoon. Leinster were unchanged but Popham declared off from Munster and was replaced by O’Neill. Munster’s players were selected from Dolphin (6), Constitution (5) and U.C.C. (3). Leinster’s from Trinity College (6), Landsdowne (4), Bective (2), Wanderers (2) and Monkstown (1). Play commenced in good style with Favier making a clever dash to Leinster’s 25 before being pulled down. Cussen cleared. Midfield play followed for some time and Munster were awarded a free for offside but Daly’s kick fell short. The Leinster forwards made a few bursts. A heeled free by Murphy-O’Connor restored play to midfield. A fine passing movement by Leinster was the next feature ending in Cussen scoring. Crichton failed to add the extra points. Splendid footwork from the Munster forwards, Bradley and Sullivan, followed and ended between the posts. O’Connell failed to convert, dashing the ball against the upright. After 20 minutes the score was level at three points each. Leinster pressed hotly for some time and Munster were penalised. A magnificent Munster movement was witnessed when Murphy-O’Connor gained possession, cut through beautifully and sent out to Favier when tackled by Davies. Favier was then pulled down but let the ball loose. Wellwood saved Munster from touch and Sullivan led the forwards to the line, scoring himself from far out. Daly failed to convert. Munster 3 tries (9 points); Leinster 1 goal 1 try (8 points).

1921 All-Ireland Final

A special meeting of the G.A.A. Central Council has fixed the 1921 All-Ireland hurling final between Limerick and Dublin for March 4th at Croke Park. Mr. Walsh, Waterford, to referee. The Council also decided to inaugurate a May 21st carnival in aid of funds.

Ode to the Coal Quay

Were I sublime than the Grecian Rhymer,

Than Philostratus or bold Bonaparte,

Could I when lyrical like Moore, that miracle,

Endow my dialect with tuneful art,

I’d pen a ditty of this fine fair city,

So wise and witty t’would beget renown:

And like thrush or curlew I’d extol that purlieu –

The Coal Quay Market of my native town.

(First of ten verses by W.B. Guinee, one time Cork journalist who moved to London)

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