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carnivorousmossbeast · 1 month

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Layover

no content warnings. but this is long. Sorry!

Summary: Ghost and Soap are waiting for a flight to take them home.

There's a delicious ache crawling through his thighs, his veins, settling into his biceps and shoulders in that very delightfully restricting way that reminds him of the exhaustion after a good workout. His arms are leaden and tired, straining against the knowledge that he will have to lift them again, he will have to shoulder his gun and pack and march on with his head held high once they clear customs and get their shit returned, because somewhere higher up someone messed up and forgot to bring them back home. When they had arrived at the airfield, all that was left was a bedraggled looking civilian charter that brought them to the closest long-distance hub, and the only available flight had been fucking Paris. Soap's personal hell in the making. He's sure there are blisters on his heels and under his toes, there's concrete dust and plant detritus everywhere from his armpits to his arse-crack, it's wearing down his teeth and tickling inside his ear where he can't quite reach. And now he's sitting in the gate lounge under artificially white light, waiting for a plane that should have dropped them off four hours ago and instead hadn't shown turbines nor wings. It's enough to make a civilian rstless, but Soap feels a little off-kilter, a little unstable and he's ready to claw the concrete walls apart until he finds a high-voltage cable to chew on – or strangle one of the more annoying flight guests with. There are about five too many that fit that category for his taste, and he knows the odds are stacked against him while their flight gets delayed and delayed again, and they remain stuck on these plastic seats like brittle, dry gum and rubber sole stains.

"You know..." Ghost wiggles his knee gently, touching it against Soap's own sore ones. The heavy duty straps of his thigh holster creak and the thick fabric of his uniform creases and protests the movement. Sand and plant bits fall from his legs, creating a halo of debris at his feet. A distinct trail of destruction, in the realm of violence where Ghost is the embodiment of lust and insanity. It's a temple where Soap has learned to worship, a voice he's grown to trust for guidance in a twisted perversion of their own blood-soaked spirituality. There is no arguing with Catholic priests on the rights of gay men, and it hasn't proven particularly effective once Ghost confirms he has the target locked.

His eyes perceive the world in shades of blue-ish grey and with black and red crosshair markers overlaying the view. Soap has watched Ghost's trigger finger caress cold metal with a deranged sort of care, like he's chasing the sensation of the warmth he's about to terminate. Soap has watched Ghost watch bodies cool from orange-red to green-blue in the limited, grainy viewfinder of thermal tactical goggles. As if Ghost waits for those forgotten, listless souls to be consumed into his domain, never quite remembered after a nameless, faceless terror pierced their cerebrum and left their lives shattered across the field.

"I know a lot of things, Lt," Soap answers Ghost's question dutifully, like any good sergeant would his lieutenant, and lays his head back against the stiff collar of his coat. The plate carrier pushes it up awkwardly, and normally he hates the way it bunches on his nape, the way it feels all thick and restricts his movement, but right now it's like a more comfortable cervical spine collar, a pillow to rest his weary soul. "Mainly chemistry and gun maintenance." He turns slightly to look at Ghost, breathing through the ache that shoots down his neck and past his shoulder.

"Smart boy, aren't you?"

"Yeah well, army didn't put me through college for nothin'," Soap drawls and puts on his best and broadest smile for his Lt. Puppy love, they call it, hero worship. They call Soap a dumbass for attaching himself to Lieutenant Riley like a feckin' barnacle, but Soap likes that he got to burrow into the hard shell that makes Ghost bullet proof, that he gets these moments where Ghost knocks their knees together and strikes up a conversation.

Well. He throws Soap the promise of a kibble and Soap hunts it like a particularly stupid blood hound, tripping all over himself while chasing for whisps of conversation that he can uphold.

"Army put ye through college too, sir? Ye one of 'em rare smart boys from Manchester?"

"Careful, sergeant," Ghost says, easy and gentle. It's not really a reprimand as much as it is a reply, a request for Soap to continue this conversation in the hell that is the Charles de Gaulle airport, where they rest their tired, weary bones on the shitty plastic seats and keep themselves alert with full bladders and shitty airport coffee cart coffee. Ratty old dishwater that tastes like the watered down dirt of plates left to sit in the sink for far too long – at least it doesn't upset their stomachs the way sucking on an old dishrag would.

"Always careful, sir," Soap falls into their banter, imagines the smirk distorting the lines on his lieutenant's scarred face. "So, what about ye, then?"

"What about me?" Ghost asks. He sounds amused, knocks his knee into Soap's again. "Got any more of that coffee, sergeant?"

"Ye want more?" Soap asks.

"Not really. Could go for some grub but..."

"The French have a thing about their sauces. Hollandaise, béarnaise," Soap trails off, uncertain about any other French cuisine that isn't escargot and grenouille – and he has feelings about those. Multiple, and all solidly on the negative spectrum. It reminds him a little too much of staring at rats and geckos and wondering when the gnawing pains in his abdomen turned despair into reason.

"Can't name the four staple sauces of the French cuisine?" Ghost clicks his tongue, mock annoyance colouring the air like a joke. It still tastes like heavy-duty cleaning agents and old sweat, typical airport manure coating their lungs like tar and diesel, the civilian version of military vehicle exhaust and cigarettes. It's sweeter somehow, more pure, more peaceful – everything they can't have and that they chase regardless. The promise of peace coating the wisps of used-up civilian space air, hot and humid and covered in the exhales of fried chicken, chips and cheap booze. There's a thrill in how mundane they are here, in this liminal space, where they can be just as all the others. Waiting, tired, caught in overlays and transits and with overpriced food that barely takes the edge off.

"Mirepoix and rouge," Soap says.

"Close." Ghost's eyes crinkle when he leans his head back, legs splayed open. One knee knocks into the dividing wall partition, the other into Soap's. Despite everything that is said about Ghost, he is as human as the rest of them, and he craves human contact just like any social creature. Even if his way is considerably more stilted, and littered with landmines of dark sarcasm and bone-grinding cynicism. Ghost is a bit of an arsehole like that, but Soap is reasonably certain that it's just a wall to protect Ghost from heartache. "But no. Béchamel, Espagnol, Tomate, Velouté and Hollandaise."

"How do you know so much about French cuisine? And what is Béarnaise?"

"Mum used to uh. She used to cook. Taught me a bit."

"She teach you the difference on Hollandaise and Béarnaise?" Soap tries tapping his heel, but the sharp pains and aches from the long mission have him stop with a pained hiss. Ghost pauses before digging in his chest pocket to reveal what looks like a single use packet of sugar, but ends up being aspirin.

"Take this. It's mostly the wine and Béarnaise is just Hollandaise made with shallots and tarragon."

"And here I thought they were entirely different things," Soap hums.

"They're not." Ghost hands Soap the small bottle of water to chase the aspirin, and Soap nods, grateful to be able to wash the taste of stale powder and citrus from his tongue. "They're both oil in water emulsions. One just tastes better."

"Oh ye are a rocket," Soap scoffs and knocks his knee back against Ghost's. "First thing to do back on home soil?"

"Steak and Stout pie. Maybe some Scotch Eggs, nothing fancy." Ghost works his jaw beneath the mask. "A pint, maybe. Sleeping Giant has a new cook that's halfway decent."

It's not an invitation.

"That right, Lt?"

"Could join me. Pay fer your own drinks, though. They don't pay me enough to make a Scottish liver swim."

This, on the other hand, is.

And Soap pretends not to see the crinkle under Ghost's eyes, but cherishes it anyway as he turns away, hiding the mirth playing over his face from the world and the airline passengers that sit with them on the god-awful plastic chairs in the gate lounge, while their flight is gallivanting off somewhere.

#fanfiction #ghoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #ug H they disgust me #again I would never take inspiration from actual conversations I had during transports and downtime #art imitates life or something #Dummschwätzen bis es weh tut #pre relationship #none of these procedures work like that #but i decided to write this anyway because something bit me #and now I’m pretending this is absolutely sanctioned #this is fantasy military after all

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malalasdair · 1 year

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You gotta love the sheer impossibility of our continued existence, like. Who the hell thought Tumblr would last this long? Especially after the great p0rn ban of 2018. Thought this place was gonna go down in flames n yet here we are running off into the sunset— on feckin’ fire n screamin’ like a pile of gay-ass banshees hoistin’ pride flags and wavin’ that damned destiel meme around.

Anyway, welcome redditors.

#reddit blackout #you can find your complimentary lighter fluid and lighter tangled in your shoelaces

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timelessxmemories · 6 months

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The gays lol

ITS THE FECKIN GAYS!!! OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS

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b0nelessdoodles · 2 years

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have some doodles i did months ago but never colored uhfkwilaj

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #madeline cookie #parfait cookie #espresso cookie #short haired madeline my beloved #espresso wake up you fucked up big time #the man is made out of wet paper towels leave him alone #@ the monsters that always kick his ass faster than dark choco can shout MEET YOUR END #i need to draw parfait more i love her so feckin' much #my first kingdom exclusive character to pull and i refuse to remove her from my team #she says this and then looks espresso directly in the eye while he tries hard not to be gay on main for whichever charge cookie is out #be it madeline or dark choco she knows whats going on with this mage #sea fairy off to the side like thanks parfait i really needed that #where is her girlfriend devsis where is she #okay im gay for madeline too good night

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piers-wifey · 2 years

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Who's your favorite resident evil girl?

Those two are fav resi gals. I just... I'm so gay for them I swear to my ancestors graves. I mean just look at them! Becca is the definition of a cinnamon roll and mah wife. I'd gladly give her all my hoodies just to see her adorable face peeking out from under the hood. And Merah would be my kick-ass gf whom I'd allow to boss me around all day lmao. I'd treat them like the queens they are. I love them with every ounce of my body and would frigging die for them.

Also this picture of my hubby and Merah is pure Bi-panic. If I saw them fighting like that in front of me I'd die. But of course my number one is and always will be my cranky puppy.

#Asks for Piers #I'm gay for them. So so gay #Also I can't wait to write Merah's part in my story She deserves way more love and I will feckin give her the attention & love she deserves

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on-a-lucky-tide · 2 years

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Back on my Author Eskel bullshit.

I'm going to turn this concept into a longer thing for either the Witcher Summer Camp or Eskel-pades (or maybe both). Eskel is as soft as a marshmallow, so I'll need to add an edge to him, but I love Author Eskel. Do I do this, or my Gerskel Bodyguard AU with Author Eskel and Bodyguard Geralt? Who knows.

Anyway, Eskel is a well-known crime novelist. The sort that rivals Patterson for bookshelf space. His books are all over the world, in multiple different languages, there's a deal with A Big Name Streaming Service for a series and talk of a movie.

He does most of his writing in a tiny little coffee shop in his home town. No one bothers him there, because he will always be the large, bespectacled, dorky kid who used to run amok with his best friend, Geralt. No one cared then, and no one cares now.

He also writes gay romance novels under a pseudonym. They're very niche. Focus on men like him in small rural towns looking for love, so they're not super mainstream. He kind of prefers it that way, because the massmarket is cut throat and he can be himself in those novels.

His coffee shop gets a new barista. He's sharp, sarcastic and efficient. Name badge says Lambert. Face says Get Fucked. So, despite finding Lambert hotter than a jalapeño in the Sahara (he notes that down for later), Eskel is polite but gives him a wide berth.

Then, one day, the grumpy bastard slumps down on one of the deep sofas nearby and pulls out a tattered paperback. Eskel does a double-take. It's one of his. Not crime fiction, a feckin' romance novel. One of his earlier ones. For the first time in years, he gets that jitter in his chest. The one a writer gets when someone has picked up their work, is reading it, perceiving the gods damned words. And he... has to ask. Eskel clears his throat, "What're you readin'? Any good?" (Please say yes please say yes).

Lambert's eyes roll up from his book and he slurps noisily on his iced latte before he replies, "Yeah. S'my favourite author. Must've read this one about ten times, maybe more."

Eskel feels his neck redden. "Wow, must be... Uh, pretty good."

"It feels like he gets it."

"Gets what?"

Lambert levels him with an intense stare, as if weighing him up. Then his lip quirks at the corner and he waves airily at the coffee shop. "Being queer in the middle of bumfuck nowhere."

A pause. Waiting for a reaction.

Eskel nods, hoping his heart isn't audible.

"That's... rare. Stories for us."

Lambert's shoulders relax a little and Eskel lets out a breath. Lambert returns his bookmark reverently to the chapter end, and rocks to his feet. "Break's over. Want a top up?"

"Sure."

Lambert whisks his cup away and Eskel pretends not to notice Lambert's glance at his screen.

They talk more after that. Lambert's fun and witty; he loves dogs and he used to live further north, but left for a fresh start. Eskel learns that he likes cinnamon and can't cook; he has a degree in some kind of biochemistry, but none of the desire to use it. He longs for the open road, but it feels like his feet are made of lead and the world doesn't want him anyway.

The world might not, Eskel thinks, but Eskel does.

In his forty-odd years, he's never really had a crush. Plenty of hot and heavy encounters when he was young; fleeting, meaningless and shallow. But now he's faced with someone he wants to impress. So, he does the one thing he's confident in. He writes.

He writes Lambert a novel. A new character, a new setting, but both will be familiar. It's a love letter and a soft request. He places the manuscript in front of Lambert during one of his breaks. Asks him to give the first chapter a read cause he's not written the genre for a while.

Lambert needles him, but takes it home with him. Eskel spends a sleepless night staring at the ceiling of his one-bed apartment, not even pretending he's able to sleep.

He sits in the coffee shop the following morning. Lambert's not on shift so Eskel isn't expecting him when he slides into the seat opposite, the manuscript placed on the table in front of him. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

Lambert pulls his beaten up old novel from his satchel and places it down on top. "You're him. This is you."

Eskel nods. His neck reddening.

"Bitch," Lambert whispers, and Eskel's shoulders droop. "I've been waiting ten years for a fucking sequel. Are you for real with that cliffhanger? Do you know the fucking p-- wait, this needs a coffee. Wait the fuck here."

Eskel stays frozen while Lambert darts off, returning with two steaming mugs he made himself. Eskel clears his throat. "How did you know?"

"When you've been listening to a voice for decades, when it's pulled you through the worst fucking moments of your life, you'd know it in a crowd at fifty paces."

"You don't read my other--?"

"Not my thing. Now, this," he ran an affectionate hand over the new manuscript, "this is my thing. And I accept."

"What?"

"You asked me out for dinner. I accept."

"I did?"

Lambert flashed all his teeth in the most disarming grin and Eskel's insides turned to jelly. "Yeah. I'll pick you up at 7, old man."

#lambert #witcher lambert #eskel #wticher eskel #lambskel #eskel x lambert #eskel/lambert #tw3 #modern au

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the-dubious-salamander · 4 years

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more experimenting! I like the painterly style that i’m trying out. I need practice, of course.��

also korrasami! I’m several years late to another avatar series, but i don’t feckin care. I am still trying to process how two of my favourite characters are together with so much gay love. i... oh my gosh. such beautiful bisexuals. I don’t have words.

also i like drawing trees.

#korrasami #forest #alok #korra #legend of korra #asami sato #bisexual #lgbt+#oh my gosh #i love them with all of my heart #i'm still practicing so this isn't perfect #but small steps!#fanart #my fanart

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madds-the-weirdo · 3 years

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Gotta love the hell I've subjected myself to by working at Chick-fil-A as a queer agnostic exvangelical.

Like the feeling judged by my boss and the boomer/conservative customers that I'm surrounded by. The haunting and annoying sound of chr*stian music instrumentals as I'm in the bathroom or dining room cleaning. The bible verses plastered on the walls in the back office. Its always fun to be called ma'am and miss when you are helping a customer.

My boss wasnt happy when i dyed my hair purple. On top of wearing a lot of eyeliner and black nail polish and just generally being genderqueer.

But I was surprised by the amount of fellow gays that work there, like a good handful of us are either queer in some way or trans. And yet we only talk about it after we close.

It feckin sucks. But its the only place that would hire me, and i needed to get a job desperately.

#lgbtq #funny #exvangelical #ex christian #chick fil a #customer service #fast food #queer #bi #my post

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thatonecherrypie · 4 months

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More drawings for that hero au I've been slowly working on. Not 100% sure how happy I am with how the shading and lil backgrounds came out. The struggle is real 😭

I have some headcanons in the making, slowly but surely. I'll try to get those done soon if anyone's interested in seeing those 😭

#lps 2012 #vinnie terrio #sunil nevla #vinnil #my art #littlest pet shop 2012 #feckin love these gays #human au

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prettywarriors · 3 years

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Fate The Winx Commentary

Good morning internet! Today is the drop of Winx: Riverdale edition! I sure hope you're ready for my aggressive and unnecessary commentary, because it is coming for you either way!

The netflix landing page lets us know:

Fate The Winx Saga

6 episodes, 48-53 minutes each

"Genres: Fantasy TV Shows, Teen TV Shows, Italian TV Shows"

"This show is: Emotional"

As mentioned elsewhere, my Winx knowledge is limited, so I will be coming into this fairly fresh and will try to be unbiased. As I have seen trailers, the keyword here is Try.

Episode 1

'To the Waters and the Wild'

CW: Animal Death, Swears, Implied Child Death, Blood, Implied Teen Sex, Burns, Weed, Fatphobia, Whatever the term pussie falls under

Episode 1 TL;DR: We meet everyone, learn their dynamics, have the basics of the magic system beat into us, meet our monsters, and name drop Harry Potter. Standard first episode stuff.

I do want it on record before we start that I got about halfway into the first season of Riverdale, and the first season of Netflix Sabrina. They were, well, bland and boring imo? I did get through a few seasons of Teen Wolf, but that's because it was capable of Fun and Jokes. My current expectations are a few unintentionally funny lines, maybe some almost decent magic effects, and because it's 2021, one whole gay character (I did hear one of the boys (there are boys?) is bi, but also an asshole so I'm hoping for some wlw)

TV-MA LANGUAGE AND SMOKING OH FUCKING BOY Almost full moon (waxing) in opening shot- I Will be tracking moon inconsistencies if it keeps showing up that is a pet peeve but hey look a bunch of sheep That's a good start (it's ominous though. don't hurt the sheep) Swears count: Feckin' 2 Mystical portal barrier. Oh yeah s5 of the magicians is on netflix now WELP THOSE ARE SHEEP GUTS RIGHT OUT THE GATE HUH For CW it's up a tree, and the dripping blood is a good warning of what's about to be seen :( oh and then the man who was looking for the sheep dies offscreen save for a spray of blood. THIS ISN'T YOUR CHILD'S WINX CLUB it seems to say. I assume. How much blood was in the original winx because this is already at least a full cup. (Also the monster noises for whatever was chasing the man (werewolf it was a werewolf trailers are bad guys) were not very good)

Opening credit scene is 5-6 different blooming elemental wings. They're pretty, but it's unclear if the last one is secret 6th member wings (because the second to last ones are fire which is the main character's element right?) so maybe we'll get a late 6th addition? (I am in I.T. please give me the most relatable character you cowards)

KIDS IN THE CORNER BY AMBER VAN DAY PLAYING I like where they shot this but that might just be european woods pretty. The opening location was nice and mossy save for the sheep blood Fancy big stone school establishing shots (it's nice, and huge) and we land on a red head who seems less than pleased to be here Courtyard shot of... whatever the name of the replacment plant girl is, holding a tray of various potted plants for an older man (father? first day of school send off maybe?) Aisha(?) walks by, not talking to anyone, Stella(?) is taking Magical!Selfies with at least 3 other girls, Musa(?) has a suitcase and headphones and smiles at a passing girl Oh boy a boy with a pocketknife doing little tricks with it! Nothing says edgy like an actual knife edge. Gonna take this moment to point out I have some level of face blindness and while the girls all look fairly different from one another, if there is more than one tall blonde white boy as I fear there may be, I WILL NOT be able to tell them apart. Not through maliciousness, just general incompetence, so anything I say about the boy characters (I want to say they're the knights to the girl's faeries? is that right? this whole thing smacks of gender) should be taken with a heap of salt I've come to accept tv just. displaying text messages on screen as a storytelling method. It's never my favorite but it just Is a modern story element. Also Bloom needs to meet stella at the alfea gates Alfea I presume is the school- does the name mean something? It sure feels like the word elf and therefore fae but I don't feel like googling anything this early in Oh look two more blondish tall white boys. Pocketknife was wearing something else i think, one guy has a brown jacket and pink shirt (bad combo), the other looks old even by tv highschool/college standards and his jacket has a jock vibe. Jock jacket also has an earring? Is this the bi character who is an asshole? From this one second of him, only in profile, I will assume yes, he is an asshole I like Bloom's backpack Pink shirt looks at Bloom from across the quad. I am already tired of this romance Cool he walks up to someone he has identified as lost, and is 'impressed with [her] confidence in the face of complete ignorance' COMING OUT OF THE GATE WITH A NEGG HUH PINKY He even states he wasn't offering help Then Why Are You Talking To Her Jackass Subs are going with the fairy spelling, and Bloom confirms she is a fairy and we confirm this is College. Unless this is a european thing where they call schools different things. I think that's just for public and private? And maybe just england? I'm American all they teach us is 1492-ww1 over and over for like. 10 years sorry Rest of the World 'What Realm are you from?' 'California' Speaking of ameri-centric, I'm gonna Guess that original Winx, the italian cartoon, didn't have their main character be from cali usa? I am presuming this is a side effect of making this property for a more global distribution than I'm guessing winx was originally conceived as back in the early 00s The Otherworld. I assume this is the fairy realm and whatnot? And the magic school. Seems to be located behind a magical barrier in the earth realm?? If that's right it seems weird if basically everyone who goes to the school is from the otherworld Pinky doubles down on his rudeness but in a Fun and Cute way because :/ and the Specialist hall is Very Pretty, oh and there's a fairy hall. Are specialists the boy...things? magi knights? bros of the blade? guys who wear those 'here come a special boy' sneakers from that one comic? Stella sees this conversation which is great because they drop the term mansplain. why would otherworlders know that term even??? Edgey(?) sees Pinky and they hug it out Stella knows Americans are the type to wander off so I guess there's a lot of inter-world connections?

Miss Dowling- is this teacher going to be like the pedo in riverdale who got *checks notes* killed off by one of multiple serial killers later on? Dowling is the headmistress, gotta keep the otherworld a secret from earthers, time and place for portal making. all standard fantasy stuff so far, nothing to make this stand out Stella has a gateway ring, and frankly isn't too nice? all the backgrounders clothing is Bland and very normal 7 realms of the otherworld, Solaria is where Alfea is, i like magic globe Incase you forgot this was a modern tale, people update their insta stories here. 'I was kindof bummed I didn't see a single pair of wings' YOU AND ME BOTH BLOOM 'We had wings in the past, transformation was lost, tinkerbell was an air fairy' This is either a cop out for your glittery cowardice, or a set up for the main girls re-finding transformation magic later. I did like the Tink bit Bloom is a fire fairy and the subtext of this conversation is that bloom's magic did Something bad. I hope it was burn down her old school's gym a la buffy movie I like miss Dowling but in the I wouldn't Be Surprised if you turned out to be Evil way, and I guess Alfea is a very privileged upper crust school. What types of college do normal fairies go to then huh? damn privileged fairies 'our students have gone on to do amazing things like re-discover long lost magics' We Get It. You will give me Wings, but Only If I'm Patient Dowling throws a jab at Bloom about power control, but I like her necklace so It's Fine

Bloom video calls her parents while unpacking in the dorm, which may have come pre-fit with a heck ton of board games? Love it. Or new plant girl brought them along with her many plants Stella has a fancy mirror and lots of jewelry and fashion photos and makeup, Musa has a laptop and apparently not much else, gotta get those establishing personalities down I guess 'Ladies of the Flies honey don't be sexist' Bloom's dad for feminist of the year (these jokes are bad but i guess we can call it a dad joke as justification) Asiha gives Bloom a look and saves her from the call with her parents- yay friendship step one achieved Blooms parents think she's in the alps because magic secrets and what not Aisha asks bloom if she's never read harry potter and I guess Bloom is a potterhead (that's the term right?). Is this self awareness that all magical school fantasy series have the same basic bricks? Bloom is a ravenclaw sometimes slytherin, Aisha is a Gryffindor Stella is changing because she's the fashion one and has a fun pastel rainbow skirt, and uses magic to make a real aggressive lamp. She's also a mentor (maybe older than the others by a bit?) I am assuming Stella here is something along the lines of a diplomats daughter the way she talks about appearances. She better get down and dirty later on to show her growth about how some things are more important than looks yada yada Fairy magic powered by strong emotions, i am waiting for bloom's backstory to be movie x-men rogue style tragedy Terra! Which. Of course is the Plant Fairy's name. Stella is a little mean to her about the plants and she takes it with a smile and some subtle snark back using classic literature Oh that's fun Terra points out the name-plant thing, and name drops her cousin Flora. That's. The one they replaced with Terra right? Terra's dad works in the greenhouse at the school which explains earlier (and her mum is named rose) Stella is indeed a second year and Musa's eyes change for. Lie detecting magic? and loves her headphones (Overstimulation?) Aisha wants somewhere to swim and we cut to a 'pond' by specialist training. Assuming she wants to sim because she's a water fairy, why Don't they have a pool? also this pond looks. Unpleasant for swimming

Girl specialist! Does that mean we have boy fairies? Boys. Fighting. Talking about girls. All gingers are nuts. Thanks edgelord AMAZING SHAGS THOUGH 'I didn't realize your hand was a red-head' it's not truly edge if we don't talk about sex every 10 minutes Subtitles earlier only said boy 1 boy 2 but now pinky or edgy is Riv Edgy smokes weed, and pinky is a big brother figure to him, and the head? of the special boys doesn't like edgy. Me neither older guy Bit of swordplay, more girls, every specialist has black training outfits, very military Pinky is Sky who is son of Guy of Place. an important lad. without context this is meaningless to me There's a giggly boy who laughs at the idea of a war in the future and gets a talking to. I suspect this boy will be re-occurring enough to die- he has those tertiary character elements with his intro and such (and he's black so I am prepared for your standard racist murder choices) Burned Ones exist outside the barrier, which makes me wonder if dead shepard was in the otherworld? There was nothing establishing that he was in any type of Other place but :/ Oh look edgey is having a smoke cross the barrier while we learn about the creatures that live beyond it. Time to find out these creatures no one young has ever seen are still kicking Specialist leader had to kill his own pa after a burned one got him. They also. Used a shotgun when trying to fight it. Do specialists even have powers or are they just good with weapons? Edgey finds the shepards corpse. Mostly blood 'it's been 16 years since the last sighting' 'Rosalind killed all the burned ones' ahh magical creature genocide hey when is abarat 4 coming out. and is rosalind hot?

School, gossip, Aisha and Musa are snarking at Tera for thinking the guy died of natural causes because we need to have these characters not actually like each other to make it stand out when they do Aisha talks about how she eats a lot and if she didn't swim she'd be massive and we cut to the plus sized tera looking uncomfortable are we really doing this? Tera points out that Musa was ignoring her earlier and it's all just uncomfortable and not great character conflict (but I thought I saw Musa holding an honest to god ipod? it's blue but it could be a phone case. Her hand is in the way) tera and dad interaction is nice, i'm also convinced they couldn't afford more than 3 magic adults

Girl with braids and metal in her hair! There were witches in winx right? Like 3 minor antagonist girls? I assume this is one of them. Because she has alternative fashion and is therefore evil /s Beatrix. Names in this series leave something to be desired (that something is subtly. I get it, they're carry overs from a series for a younger audience, she-ra had the same issue, but i can still poke fun) Swear count: Arsehole 2 Bollocks 1 Shit 1 She's a weird ass kissing with clearly ulterior motives

Bloom is Studying and her notebook is just FAIRY MAGIC POWER = EMOTIONS LOVE FEAR? HARTED? FIRE FAIRY CONTROL? in case you weren't paying attention Oh a flashback already to the magic triggering event? Her mother had pointed out she's an introvert, and past!Bloom doesn't Party. She goes Antiquing and is a Weird Loner (her 'basic bitch' of a mom's words) Swear count: Bitch 1 Bad daughter count: 1 Bad mother count: 1 Magic glowy eyes for Bloom: 1

Bloom Hates Parties and asks Pinky I mean Sky where she can be Away from People and he fears he'll be Mansplaing to her to. vague that it's dangerous outside instead of saying 'hey there's monsters and someone was just killed by possible one of them stay in the barrier' Stella wants to talk to Sky because they have History. I did hear there was a love triangle between these three. I am bored and everyone at this party is a nosey bitch who is watching their tense conversation. Also Something? Happens when Stella gets upset [mystical warbling] Random magic effects in the (very pretty) forest Bloom is trying to practice her magic on her own, and to do that she's gotta look at sad teen pics. And look, her burnt bedroom from her first power usage The fire magic is pretty good. I think fire is like. the opposite of water when it comes to cg where it almost always looks pretty good, while I swear i've seen the actual ocean look like a shitty render Magic out of control, bloom can't control her emotions, Aisha can stop her with water magic which makes some nice steam Bloom is angry at aisha for saving her. So far 3 of the 5 girls are abrasive at best remember when people made characters likeable? Swear count: Shit 1 (but it doubles as the literal meaning because of flooded toilets) Swear count: Bitch 1 Ass 1 Taking away your teen's door is. Really shitty. Not almost burn down your house worthy but damn cheerleader mom I do not understand sleep shirts with buttons. That seems painful if you lie the wrong way? Her mom was seriously burnt by first magic usage that's a backstory Shit count +1 Main character aspect time: dormant fairy blood line? awfully strong magic for that. baby who died day after it was born and now she's here? ...I was going to say changeling thanks aisha A Barbaric practice loving hints at long term world lore Hell is a bad word for kids!! Cutting to headmistress and her secret passage after finding out bloom is secret pureblood? this really is a harry potter thing

edgelord offers giggly some booze, and says pussies twice because he's Edgey and does peer pressure Tera calls him out and knows he's a sad nerd in disguise not a 'badass' and he says she's 'three people in disguise' because fatphobia shit +1 arehole +1 tera. chokes out edgelord with a vine because she's had enough of this shit. good for her edgelord is Riv, and he lived

OBLIGATORY GOOGLE SEARCH FOR THE TERM CHANGELING REMEMBER BELLA'S VAMPIRE GOOGLE GOD I LOVE TEEN FANTASY AND THEIR INSTANCE ON GOOGLING COMMON FANTASY TERMS OH hey the lamp bloom brought with her is the one she was fixing at home that's a nice touch Stella bonds with Bloom about homesickness, and the takes a selfie Musa is a mind fairy. So she. Is a telepath with purple eye magic? Oh there's types of 'connections' Memory, thought (others but i am cut off from the lore) Stella did Something to someone who Talked To Her Man last year and now lent Bloom her teleportation ring to send her some because miss mentor really cares more about her shitty man then helping the girls she's in charge of First World- earth Old Cemetery? Very Sexy. and bloom sweetie don't leave a mystical gateway open, and how will you explain to your parents how you're back so fast Wait she's only 16? SO this really is some european college where that's a funny way of saying High School Fire guilt, bad feelings about life shattering revelations, better connection with mother. I gotta say I have low expectations of this show carrying the family connection through the rest of this. That conversation felt more like a Hey We Made These Movements Onto Other Stuff Now

Lighting choices are interesting, with green, orange and purple for creepy warehouse. THE Creepy Warehouse where she would sleep without her parent's knowledge wow right that GIRL DROPS THE DAMN RING AT THE FIRST SIGN OF burned one looked more alien than werewolf-y here Decent Horror movie looks, and dude stole her ring. Rude. Saved by the headmistress, and tera/aisha/musa are here to great her Stella can't be here though because she has to greet a half naked freshly showered sky because life is suffering and producers insist people like to see teens half naked (who. Who?) shit +1 and she dumped him. pity part of one and using it to try to get your bone on. HEY A SONG I KNOW. IT'S WHATSITCALLED FROM THE BAYONETTA COMMERCIALS WAY BACK WHEN. in for the kill la roux. I do wish netflix would either commit to telling you what song was playing or didn't tell you at all

Riv offers Beatrix a hit from his joint because what Is a Bad Kid hasn't changed in like 70 years Blowing pot smoke into someone's mouth isn't as sexy as ya'll seem to think it is Musa has cute sleep socks with little pom poms, and I love Tera's floral jammies Tera offers a bluetooth speaker so they can listen to music together Musa also calls out Tera's fake happiness this is the good shit character interaction i live for Musa Empath Mind Fairy 'somber indie music'

If you kill a burned one in the human world Something? Extra bad happens? So the headmistress knows Bloom's a changeling, and ohhh that's the last time a burned one was spotted. Is Rosalind the famed Monster Slayer the birth mother of Bloom? Tera text flirts with Giggly who IS NAMED DANE and has a thing for. Sky? Riv? I told you these boys all look the same to me so if it's a half naked pic on fairy insta i'm out of context clues. Crymeariv is the insta name that answers that. Is this the slow burn enemies to lover mlm i can't finish this sentence i don't care riv is a dick Stella and Sky are in a bed and she doesn't seem to have a top on so Implied sexy times? MYSTERIOUS HOODED AND ROBED FIGURE CROSSES THROUGH THE BARRIAR AND SHOOTS THE BURNED ONE WITH LIGHTNING MAGIC OH IT'S beatrix

alt-J – Adeline as an ending song

#fate the winx saga #text #commentary #hey tumblr thanks for deleting all my text because I resized this window #we're off to a great start #fate episode 1

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sombody-toucha-ma-spaget · 3 years

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A review of sorts

Yuri on ice

gay

Good shit, love the iceskating

Easy to binge as it is only 12 eps

Kinda hate Russian Yuri, especially all the feckin cheetah print he wears

Don't like how there was only one program that each of the character did but every episode

Great theme song (PRO TIP: jump to 1:30 to skip it cuz it is long)

Again, gay

And I love Victor with long hair

Overall i do reccomend, its an easy watch with great plot. Wasn't my favorite anime that I've watched but still really good. 9/10 👍🏻👍🏻

Edit: the english dubbed version is soo good, Victor sounding like Gru from Despicable Me just takes the cake

#yuri on ice #gay #anime #tv review #yurianime #yuri #victuuri

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

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Can you do more of that mandalorian obiwan jangobi fic? It was so good!

(i’m very feckin attached to this obi and i’m so happy y’all want more. blood and injury warning for this one! jangobi is very soft but obi is very bad at keeping himself alive, and ruusaan is the only one with a braincell. part 1 here!

umm. this got really long. it just... kept getting longer. fills will not be this long consistently i just. i really love this obi.

**ruusaan’s name and design from this! thank you to @amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone for letting me write her, i love her dearly)

Ruusaan remembers a time before the Supercommando Codex, even if her sisters do not, and as soon as she’s old enough to follow Mereel, she crashes the Duke’s council meeting discussing the cutting of the budget for the poorer levels of Sundari. In front of every one of her father’s supporters, she recites the shuk’la buirok and leaves every Kalevalan piece of herself behind.

The Haat Mando’ade welcome her with open arms in spite of her origins, Mereel trains her to fight and helps her build her beskar’gam, and she hopes someday her sisters will grow to make their own decisions as she had.

Ruusaan walks her path alone unless Mereel calls on her, traveling the stars as Haat'ad, nameless still, but infinitely free. She has no right to Mandalore as her dar'buir believes, but she can live the Truth, and if that's good enough for her Mand'alor, then it’s good enough for her.

When she accepts the call to Melida/Daan seven years after joining Mereel, she does so with caution —she will not pull the Haat'ade into their war— but when she lands just outside the capital of Zehava, she’s greeted by a small party of children. A girl that can’t be much older than Satine approaches Ruusaan immediately, red hair greasy and in disarray, but exuding determination.

“You’re the commando?” she demands without preamble, hiding her shaking hands by forcing them into fists.

Ruusaan removes her helmet and tucks it under her arm so the kid can see her raise her eyebrow. “I am. You put out the contract?”

The girl clenches her jaw and nods. “I’m Cerasi. I need you to get someone to Coruscant.”

Immediately wary, Ruusaan looks around the girl to the other children, who stand around someone that positively hums in the Force. “Your contract said transport of goods.”

“He belongs to the Jedi,” she says, spitting the word like it’s poison. “But they aren’t answering his communications, and we— Force, we don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Her confidence falters, darting a quick look behind herself before gripping her arm. “Listen, I don’t have much, we only just won and Nield isn’t— He helped us, he’s the reason we won, no matter what the rest of the Young say. He doesn’t deserve to die here.”

“Kid, I’m not taking your money,” Ruusaan cuts in, Cerasi’s face falling before she continues, “Mandos have creeds about children, I’ll take him for free. Where is he?”

It takes Cerasi a moment to realise what all that means, but then blinks and dashes back to the little group of children. With a growing sense of foreboding, Ruusaan follows, watching the kids part to show a tiny padawan in dirty tunics laying in a makeshift litter, and Ruusaan has to close her eyes for a moment to calm herself. The Force around him wavers like a heat haze, and Ruusaan isn’t trained enough to know what that means; nothing good, if the flickering of the boy’s Force signature is anything to go by.

There’s dried blood on his lips and chin, and she can hear his breathing from here, ragged like it hurts, and it probably does. Cerasi bites her lip and moves to pick the kid up, but Ruusaan quickly steps in and kneels to check the kid’s ribs first. Nothing seems broken, he barely even seems bruised, which certainly doesn’t fill her with confidence, but at least it’s safe enough to lift him.

She puts her helmet back on before carefully scooping the kid into her arms, and he actually feels an alright weight for how thin the other children look. Ruusaan turns back towards her ship and jerks her head for Carasi to follow her.

“What’s his name?”

Cerasi quickly moves to catch up, chewing at her lip again. “Obi-Wan, but that isn’t what the Jedi he was with called him.”

Hm. “How long has he been sick?”

“He came to us like that. He would just— cough, all the time, and the Jedi didn’t know what was wrong with him.” She follows Ruusaan up the ramp into her little ship, heading for the medbay. “He— After he promised to help us, the Jedi left him here.”

Rage nearly smothers her, and Ruusaan locks it into her chest for later, after she leaves atmo; Obi-Wan twitches in her arms in response to her sudden spike of emotion, and she can’t have that. “They left him?”

“Look, I don’t— I don’t know how it all works. But Obi-Wan gave up being a padawan to help us, I think, and I think that’s why the Jedi aren’t responding.” Cerasi watches her set Obi-Wan on the far-too large bed, her lip starting to bleed under her teeth.

Ruusaan hands her a tissue, but sets aside her helmet to quickly cut the boy out of his tabards and tunics. Just as she had thought, Obi-Wan is wearing a compression shirt under it all; Cerasi looks terrified when she cuts him out of this too, and Ruusaan sends her a reassuring smile.

“Peace, kid, Mandalorians accept all. Has he been wearing this often?”

“All the time,” she says uncertainly, ducking forward when beckoned to help Ruusaan get Obi-Wan’s dirty clothes out from under him. “Is that what caused this?”

“It certainly didn’t help.” They fall into silence as Ruusaan gets a ventilator hooked up, Cerasi jumping in to help as instructed, but there isn’t much Ruusaan can do with her sparse medical equipment. She doesn’t even have bacta.

“Are you... Are you going to take him to the Jedi?”

Ruusaan snorts, making sure Obi-Wan’s vitals are being logged before turning to Cerasi. “Absolutely not. I would never return a child to those that abandoned them.”

Obi-Wan makes a small sound, eyelids flickering for a moment, but he doesn’t wake, and Ruusaan realises her heart is in her throat. Well, that settles that, then. “I’ll take him back to my people, decide where he best belongs,” she adds, as if the gai bal manda isn’t already burning her lips.

It seems to satisfy Cerasi enough to return to the Young, and she leaves Obi-Wan with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered apology. She races out of the ship before Ruusaan can ask her anything else, and she does not follow. Ruusaan’s contract is on the bed behind her, and you cannot save someone who does not want to be saved.

Jango doesn’t know if it’s Ruusaan or Jaster’s machinations that has him covering contracts with Obi-Wan more than any other commando, but he’d appreciate it if they stopped before Jango has an actual heart attack.

Because Obi-Wan, for all his new calm and easy demeanor, is even more reckless than when he was a child, and Jango hadn’t thought that was possible. He jumps into fights without checking escape routes, and uses his rifle in close combat as well as his fists, he doesn’t travel with a jetpack, and he removes his helmet any time they’re not in an active right.

“It’s easier to breathe without it,” Obi-Wan tells him on another mercy mission to Concordia. “Buir tried to hook an oxygen tank up to it, but they were all too heavy.” And he shrugs like it's fine, and Jango decides he has a death wish.

Ruusaan either joins them on missions, or takes contracts nearby, never too far if... anything went wrong. Luckily, things rarely do, and Jango only has to see Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs once after that first mission back, and even then Obi-Wan had been fine within the day.

They make it a year and a half of missions together before things go wrong, stranded in a rusty hut on Yutha during a dust storm, with Ruusaan somewhere on the other side of the canyon to the North taking a different job.

Theirs had been a simple contract to retrieve some Neimoidian’s data disk that he’d left with a lover, and Jango is only there because Obi-Wan had asked him to be, and if it weren’t for the dust storm, it might have been as easy as it sounded.

Obi-Wan is at the one window, the barrel of his rifle propped on the sill as he watches the red dirt road outside for anyone trying to take advantage of the storm, though they’re pretty sure their hiding spot has been abandoned for a while. Jango had taken up leaning on the wall on the other side of the window frame, watching Obi-Wan more than he’s watching the outside, and even after almost two years back working with other Haat’ade, he has trouble contending this Obi-Wan with the fourteen year-old that had once tried to set his cape on fire.

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to Jango with a tiny, barely-there smirk and readjusts his rifle on his shoulder before returning to his vigil. Shaking his head, Jango is almost thankful Obi-Wan had removed his helmet as soon as they’d secured the hut; how else would he have seen the Yutha sunset painted on his face?

Hm. He should probably look into that affection that’s becoming harder to ignore.

“Jango,” Obi-Wan rasps, yanking his attention away from the rising dust storm as Obi-Wan’s hand darts up to his bleeding nose.

His entire body jerks, his blaster rifle clattering to the floor, and Jango has to dive forward to catch him before he hits his head on the windowsill. He starts coughing before Jango can even get him laid out, struggling against Jango’s arms and splattering blood across his chestplate.

And these coughs are worse than the last time, shorter, harsher, and Jango has been in enough battles to recognise someone going into shock.

This is all wrong, though, it never goes this fast, where Obi-Wan is already choking on his own lungs, eyes wild as his body attempts to shake apart, and Jango’s never had to deal with this alone, and oh Force, Ruusaan “the Jedi Killer” Tra’Galar is going to lose her foundling on Jango’s watch.

The dilapidated furniture starts to rattle as if shook from below, anything left on shelves or counters levitating for a moment before crashing to the ground. Jango yanks off his helmet and has to grab Obi-Wan’s wrists to stop him from clawing at his own armour, Jango feeling him pulling the Force in around them until it’s an almost unbearable weight.

And Jango can’t get him into shock position, not with him thrashing around with far more strength than he should possess with at least one lung collapsing, if his wheezing is anything to go by. His skin is cold and clammy when Jango manages to get a free hand onto his forehead, and despite years of having to patch up vode on the battlefield, Jango can’t tear his eyes from the blood that bubbles from his nose and drips down his face, staining his hair and making something dislodge in Jango’s chest.

“Hey, hey— Kid, hey, you with me?”

Obi-Wan blinks and his face scrunches, but he can’t seem to focus on Jango as he tries to jerk himself free from Jango’s hand. Holding him down is going against everything Jaster had taught him about shock, but every commando he’s had to treat for it has been unconscious by now, and even when Obi-Wan’s strength gives out, going limp against the floor, he doesn’t pass out, instead staying aware of his own rattling wheezes.

His fingers twitch in Jango’s hand, blinking again and jerking under the palm on his forehead; somewhere behind them, a piece of furniture crashes. Jango can’t honestly remember the last time he’d seen Obi-Wan use the Force, for anything: they keep it on the downlow even around the Haat’ade, even with Ruusaan broadcasting her own sensitivity as a point of pride. And Jango has never asked, why Obi-Wan will paint his beskar’gam silver but then refuse to acknowledge his past with the Jedi.

Something else crashes and Jango winces, moving to try and loosen Obi-Wan’s chestplate one-handed. It’s halfway through the process, with Obi-Wan’s jerking chest even more obvious, that Jango realises he isn’t going to survive it, if Obi-Wan dies like this. Force, he can’t take it if he dies like this.

The faint hum of a jetpack is the only warning Jango gets before the door to the hut explodes under blasterfire, Ruusaan shouldering through the remains and looking like a vengeful goddess with charred armour and a slice on her cheek.

She drops on Obi-Wan’s other side, tossing her rifle away to put one palm over Obi-Wan’s heart, and the other on his right side over his ribs. Jango makes to pull away and let her take over, but as soon as he does, Obi-Wan starts to thrash again, and Ruusaan’s hand flies out to stop Jango.

“Keep him calm,” she orders, brooking no argument, and Jango listens, grabbing Obi-Wan’s wrists again to settle in for seven of the worst minutes of his life — where Obi-Wan stops breathing entirely on them twice, and Ruusaan growls like a rancor before she manages to inflate both of his lungs properly.

Obi-Wan gasps on the sudden ability to inhale, eyes regaining some of their clarity, but he still can’t focus on either of them.

Ruusaan is unsurprised, grabbing up her rifle to swing the strap back over his shoulder. “How far is the ship?” she demands, and Jango’s been a soldier since he was fourteen, he can fall in and defer to Ruusaan’s command, even accept her lead with relief.

“Just over the ridge,” he says, slamming his helmet back on and shouldering Obi-Wan’s blaster as Ruusaan picks him up like he weighs nothing, even in full beskar’gam. Bewildered and a little intimidated, Jango helps put both her and Obi-Wan’s helmets on as well — the dust storm clearly isn’t stopping, and they can’t stay here.

He grabs Obi-Wan’s chestplate and follows Ruusaan back to their ship, and even though Obi-Wan is unconscious by the time they reach it, Jango is all too thankful to be able to close the hatch behind them.

In the medbay, he helps strip Obi-Wan of his armour, and then works on getting the blood off his face enough for a ventilator while Ruusaan rolls Obi-Wan’s flight suit down to his waist so she can get at his ribs.

Jango can hardly look at him, at the patchwork of darkening lavender bruises and the way his chest scars stand out against his heated skin. Carefully lifting Obi-Wan’s head to slip on the ventilator mask, he wishes he could wash Obi-Wan’s face properly, there’s still so much dried and drying blood under his nose and down his cheeks, and he just wishes he understood what the kark is wrong with him.

Instead of asking, Jango moves to get the bacta vaporiser set up while Ruusaan goes about checking Obi-Wan’s ribs for breaks.

Obi-Wan stirs when Jango is hooking up the second set of tubing to his mask, blinking blearily up at Jango as he freezes above him. They just sort of stare at each other for a moment, until Obi-Wan seems to get his bearings and relaxes under Ruusaan slowly dancing Force healing across his torso.

Panic lodges in Jango’s throat as Obi-Wan makes several attempts to lift his hand, grunting in frustration. Ruusaan glares, but allows it when he can finally raise a loose fist to Jango’s chest, tapping over his beskar’ta in proxy of his own, thanking Jango like he had actually done anything, and Jango has to lean on the head of the bunk with both hands.

“K’atini,” Obi-Wan whispers, voice sounding like it’d gone through a woodchipper, and Jango thinks kriff that, this is worse than pain, and they shouldn’t have to watch this kriffing kid die because of it.

Mando’a: shuk’la buirok — lit. “broken parent bond”, made up term for the real ability for a child to “divorce” their parent, legally labeling them as dar’buir or “no longer a parent”, which i’ve based on the term for spousal divorce shuk’la riduurok. Haat Mando’ade — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e) beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy gai bal manda — Mando’a adoption ceremony, lit. “name and soul” buir — “parent”, gender neutral vode — “brothers, comrades, siblings”, sing. vod, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brothers” beskar’ta — “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called kar’ta beskar or “heart of the iron”. K'atini — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.”

would gffa’s advanced medicine be able to perform mastectomies without scarring? yes. obi chose to keep his.

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corkcitylibraries · 3 years

Text

Cork in Verse | Ana Spehar interviews Jim Crickard

Cork in Verse is a series of interviews by Ana Spehar with Cork Poets. This week Ana interviews Jim Crickard.

Jim Crickard’s poetry is camp, entertaining work that explores culture, sexuality and identity with a hint of colour. In 2020 he was invited to represent Cork in the Cork-Coventry Twin City Exchange, which was moved online due to pandemic. In 2019 he was selected by Poetry Ireland for the inaugural Versify series and performed to a sold out show at Dublin Fringe Festival. He came second in the 2019 All Ireland Poetry Slam Final (and is working through his feelings about it with a therapist). In 2018, he won the Cuirt Spoken Word Platform and was awarded a slot to perform at Electric Picnic. In 2020 his poetry was broadcasted on RTE Arena. A poem he wrote was shortlisted in the 2018 O'Bheal International Five Words Competition, and his work has been published in Automatic Pilot, A New Ulster, and Contemporary Poetry.

When did you start writing?

I started writing when was 16. I had just come out of the closet, my older brother Shane (20) died the same year in a road traffic accident. Looking back, I think I needed space for expression. I started out with a journal before sleep. It was playful, private, and helped organise my thoughts. I’d draw a little picture at the end of each entry. I acted a bit like Virginia Woolf, with a high-neck collar, writing solemnly by candle light. When people write diaries, I think they secretly fantasise them being found and read by the masses.

When I was introduced to poetry in my Leaving Cert, I found it to be a bit stiff and flowery with poets like Keats, which had some appeal, but when we moved on to Adrienne Rich and Eavan Boland I was a lot more inspired. It was seeing people use the art form to represent women and give voice to minorities, and how they both textured their work with the confessional. I started writing my own poetry at the end of my journal entries but kept it secret. After a few years, and my first break-up, I started sharing online on a site called AllPoetry. It was great because there were little competitions between users and when I won a few of them I felt brave enough to share my work on Facebook. A few people were kind, but most were indifferent.

When I started going to O’Bheal in Cork, though, I really felt like writing could have a future for me. Writing and performing alongside other writers really makes it a lot more gratifying and instils the self-belief you need to keep going.

Could you tell us more about your creative process?

I’m always on the lookout for something to play with and tease out until it’s a poem. I write with the intention of making people laugh when they hear me perform. Unfortunately, ideas rarely happen when I’m walking around day-dreaming. I mostly need to sit down and write to find the idea or follow whatever I’ve got on my mind. One of my favourite poems that I’ve written takes a hen party in a gay bar and expands it into a series of images and scenarios that delight me and make me laugh. If it makes me laugh, then I trust that it’ll make a crowd of people laugh. I didn’t start out with that idea of the hen party though, I was trying to write a rather embarrassing romantic poem set in a gay bar, it was for a guy I was briefly dating. Suddenly there was a hen party in the corner. They abducted me with their willy-straws and novelty-glasses, and I followed their embarrassing moments and social faux-pas as they ran around, interloping and ruining the sacred queer-space. I was much more interested in them than the romantic poem I set out to write. I suppose it’s important to trust where the poem is going and let it reveal itself. If I ignored them and focused on the poem I was trying to write then I’d have missed out.

How does the creative process of writing affect your mood?

I’m elated when it comes together. I love when I get into a flow and my fingers are typing as fast as they can and what I’m writing is surprising me. That doesn’t always happen though, it can be slow and boring and the cursor can be blinking in front of me waiting for me to write something.

How often do you write? Do you write every day?

I wish I wrote every day. I’ve heard multiple sources say that that’s the best way to approach it, and I would definitely believe it. I have had periods where I wrote a new poem every week, possibly more than one. I have also had long periods of not expressing anything on the page. The latter feels depressing and I feel my life passing me by. It is this dread I feel that I’m losing precious time to grow and improve as a writer. I rationalise it by reminding myself that I need to work full-time, clean my apartment, cook dinner, which is all true. I also excuse myself by saying that I need to relax and watch some TV or listen to a podcast. I think that writing is the purest of me-time and I’d like to transform my relationship with it.

Can you tell us more about Venus Envy?

I have been known to dress in drag from time to time... I performed as Venus for Pride in O’Bheal. Afterwards I went to The Crane Lane with all of the poets. It was interesting being a drag queen out of context in another bar... People wanted to talk to me, some random stranger touched me as they passed by, and someone confided in me with something they had not mentioned before. There’s a strange power to being in drag. It’s like being a shaman, a eunuch, a jester, who is on the outside looking in. You can say things that you daren’t dream of otherwise, and people love you for it. If I had the time and money to do it more often I would. Drag will always have a special place in my heart, and on my right arm is a tattoo-portrait of Panti Bliss, the Queen of Ireland. I’ve thought about putting more drag queens beside her, but it would be like Mount Rushmore of Drag on my arm. Who knows, maybe I will.

‘Hen Party in The George’

Be careful around the corners, don’t make eye-contact at the bar,

watch out for the mom, she’s on safari, in search of exotic birds.

For a parrot to echo her punchlines,

or maybe a cockatoo,

she’s prowling around the cocktail lounge,

she’s looking for me and you.

The mother of the bride uses her lazy-eye

to her advantage,

she edges into a group of faces with meandering conversation.

Now blocking their exit, unsure

who she’s addressing,

on about her gay hairdresser, how great

he is with the scissors.

“I’ve never had a problem with the gays now myself” she says,

pausing to sip from a pink plastic penis,

pausing for praise.

And one by one, the gays fly south,

migrating to the bar,

to the dance floor, to South-Africa if necessary.

“Snobs” she calls em -

“them gays can be awful touchy.”

All her Christmases at once

when the black crow drag queen

stalking her long legs across the stage,

seven foot tall, in a silver crown of feathers refracting light off the disco-ball.

“Jesus” she says, stealing the

microphone: “you’re looking better than me”

“I should feckin hope so” the drag queen says “you’re twice me bleedin’ age!”

Slowly, slowly, the hen party has pissed off all of the George...

Abandoning punctured plastic husbands all over the stage.

Flashing so many cameras it feels like E.T.’s family has landed.

A gathering parliament of lesbians encircles the hens,

a murder of goth gays come down from their perch

I wonder if they’ve seen Hitchcock’s movie, ‘The Birds…’

by Jim Crickard

Sex in the Housing Crisis

We are the generation of born-again virgins

headboards disturb housemates on shift work,

Air-traffic controllers should be included in rent

to coordinate times to get the ride

Landlords can afford to support our sex-lives

and change carpets once in a while

We are the generation of born-again virgins

Like ships in the night, we work to survive,

but we are no thirty year old cargo boats…

anchored in the harbour, waiting for labour,

we are Ferrari red speed boats

with miles to go before we sleep,

miles to go before we sleep.

We are the generation of born again virgins

Nothing kills the mood like mildew

home-sense is built on the backs of millennials

fumigating probate houses

converted into one-beds

with constellations of mould

and half their salary paid

to make out on an old couch

facing a microwave

We are the generation of born again virgins

If you’re living with parents you can forget it

unless you can face breaking their trust

and explain condoms in the toilet-drain.

We must not forget about our parents sex-lives

afraid their carefully considered bed springs

will be heard by their thirty somethings

Let’s give the government hell for

this inter-generational dry spell!

by Jim Crickard

#corkcitylibraries #CorkInVerse #JimCrickard

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southern-belle-outcasts · 3 years

Note

6. how do you feel about pride month? //You and all the babies

17. what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtqa characterization in media? //For you~

28. what’s the most annoying question you have ever gotten? //For you, Cisco, Padmé, and Rogue

@meretrixious

a pride meme...from the beginning of the month...

6. how do you feel about pride month?

//I love pride month, I love people celebrating who they are and rubbing it in the faces of people that don't want them to be that way and continuing to fight for equal treatment. I do wish it was more educational? Like had a long chat with Dragon and Rose on why pride con with educational speakers and lgbtqia+ artists/businesses, fun activities, accessibility (wheelchairs, A/C, seating, chill out zones for sensory overload, etc)...would be much better than just parade or heat stroke at festival with everyone crowded and shiz. Like, partying is fun and all but would love, especially as recently accepting of my queer status fully (have I said how much I hate the phrase 'baby gay'? cuz i despise it, i don't like infantilizing my sexuality to make it more palatable for people) to be better informed via pride event on history, resources, etc. Just my lil opinion on it. Can't combat shit when you're in the dark.

Rogue- "Ah didn't go to anythin' pride related till last year...but yeah, Ah like it. Ah still ain't wrapped my head 'round why it bothers people so badly but Ah'm a bitch so yeah, rub it in people's faces. Start a riot if needed."

Sara- "Well, I don't see why I wouldn't jump at the chance to kiss a girl and piss some Karen off. I will always be proud of the fact I've loved men and women."

Cisco- "Good shit. Totally support it. My past relationships don't reduce my pan-ness."

Farrar- "If someone says you're not allowed to be with someone of your gender, I hope you kick their feckin' knees in."

Nilza- "I'll go if there's going to be drinking and dancing involved, otherwise I have better things to do than stand on the sidewalk all day hot. I don't need to go to pride to be able to fuck women."

Padmé (modern verse that I still haven't written up yet)- "Even after there is finally true equality, which legally is a long way off unfortunately, I don't ever see reason not to hold pride month."

Kaylee- "I don't have a problem with it...but I've never gone to pride. Please, seriously, don't say 'now you need to prove you're actually bi'." she might bite

17. what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtqia+ characterization in media?

//Oh, gods. You mean besides bury the gays? "I'm queer ergo that's my only character trait and I exist to be funny". This is not to be mistaken as my taking the side of the asshats that say "you make everything about your sexual/gender identity, shut up". No what I mean is that is LITERALLY the only thing they are on the show. They're only ever seen either a) sucking face of someone with the same gender, b) hitting on someone their gender, often without any degree of chemistry, sometimes to the point it could be considered harassment, or at least fall very much within 'cis white male' style of flirtation despite obvious differences in that character's identity, c) using their gayness or whatever as their source of humorous asshole-ism and it gives them a free pass to do shit a straight character wouldn't do naturally or without different consequences. Again, I'm not saying that sometimes these things don't occur in real life, or can't be well done...but you need a fleshed out character. I'm really sick of cardboard cookie cutter queers in media. And while yes, my brand of pan is 'not gay as in happy, but queer as in fuck you'...can we have more rep period? Soft and nice queers, shy queers, fat queers, disabled queers, queers of color. queers of a religious identity other than the hardcore atheist or the rebellious christian, queers that would be accused of being 'straight passing' or 'comphet'. Y'all we use a motherfuckin' rainbow to represent us, and just about each and every canonical queer instance in media is predictable af.

28. what’s the most annoying question you have ever gotten?

//"Why are you acting like you can just change your name and be a different person? You have to earn that, you need to show change in yourself. Is this for attention? Are you now throwing away science?." -this was all back to back so I'm counting the convo as one massive, headache inducing question-

Cisco- "'Don't you want kids?' As though it suddenly is impossible if I do end up being with someone that doesn't have said equipment. That...yeah no, there was yelling involved. And it's not as though I'm not still attracted to women!"

Padmé- "'What do you mean you don't imagine fucking attractive people you see? Everyone does that.' I quite literally do not. I said as much, I do not see why it needed repeating."

Rogue- "'You're not one of you sinful mothers, right? Like, you're not broken, you want a man in your life?' Ah swear t'god Ah almost committed murder...and momma wouldn't have actually given a shit had Ah done it."

#meretrixious #;headcanon the belle #;headcanon the canary #;headcanon the engineer #;headcanon the hunter #;headcanon the latina #;headcanon the senator #;headcanon the wolf #;little asks are made of gunpowder and lead #homophobia tw #transphobia tw #christian bigotry tw

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