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@dymagamwedd
pinned post. private friends-only roleplay blog for a small crew of original characters set in 1980s durham, during the mining strikes. please read rules and about before following. written by iris, she / her, 25+, bst. SIDEBLOG. follows back from @covrroucer.
muses under the cut.
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not really gonna be here much this week because i'm on my way to wales, but ferry's on my brain after the durham miners gala this weekend. it was genuinely so much fun, the marras were all amazing, and i met more MPs in one day than i think i'll meet in the rest of my lifetime.
CHERNOBYL (2019) 03. OPEN WIDE, O EARTH
“Now you look like the Minister of Coal.”
REWATCH MEME: FAVORITE SCENES (1/9)
ㅤ“ Hang on, now, I draw the fucking line at monarchy. ” He made a show of looking disgusted at the thought, turning his face away momentarily before finally giving in to laughter. He gave Ferry's foot a firm nudge with the side of his own. “ Take you somewhere fancy, though, how 'bout that? ”
truth be told, ferry usually doesn't like fancy places. they always look at him funny in posh restaurants, like they're trying to work out whether he's here to steal something or here to ask for a kitchen job. if he's with balfour, though... might be easier to pretend he belongs. "yeah? go on, then. champagne and caviar."
filed under slightly homoerotic sea shanties ferry belts out at the pub
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ㅤ“ Oh. Never mind, then. ” He kept a straight face for all of two seconds, then suddenly Balfour was grinning again, and perhaps trying to look unbothered. He'd wanted Ferry to say yes. Not just because he hated travelling alone. “ Just the pints, though? Feel like you're underselling, there. You could get way more outta me. ”
"could i, yeah?" his grin only gets broader. "gonna regret sayin' that, mr. silver screen. book a room at the fuckin' palace, then, if you're wantin' to impress us — let's have tea wi' lady di."
@dymagamwedd. call.
ㅤ“ Now, I'm aware this is the stupidest thing I can ask someone this far up north -- ” Words said with a grin, equal parts inviting and challenging. “ But I've to go to London. Was wondering if you might wanna come. ”
"fuck would i wanna do in london, man?" typical rough ferry, but there's a longing there. last time he was in london — well, it wasn't a good time, but he left with a long list of things he wished he'd seen. his own lips split into a challenging grin. "ain't comin' 'less you pay for pints, like."
whenever things get a bit dour at the pub, someone smacks the table and demands that the little welshman give them a sea shanty. and by god he always does it with such gusto.
took my little ferry ghost around some haunted 18th century farmsteads today
proof welsh is the best language
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DAMIANO DAVID
Måneskin - Torna a Casa Music Video
Photography: Paolo Santambrogio
the fact that ferry chose his nickname because people couldn't (wouldn't) learn to pronounce fferyll, so he tried to make it a nice english name they could all pronounce (like the boat, see?) and then it ended up sounding exactly like "fairy" which becomes part of the "let's all pick on ferry because he's gay" bullshit... whew. a rose by any other name or whatever shakespeare said.
"It's not your cat though is it?" He defends the feline's right to autonomy when all is said and done. "Not mine neither, mind."
The cream has separated to the top of the milk. He swills the bottle carefully to mix the divided layers. "Oh am I not allowed mates nah?" Then, loosens the foil-top and decants it into a small jug, setting it down hard next to the teapot.
"How a cunning woman could keep you for a son I don't know."
oh, those are the fighting words. ferry'll take a lot of shit thrown at him, but he won't take insults to his intelligence. "oh, you wanna have a fucking go, cathedral man? tomcat's not the only bitch who's got claws!"
and he's about to take a swipe at the big builder when mam's voice from the doorway stops him. "FFERYLL PENDERYN." that's all she needs to say to get him meek again.
"... sorry, ma." he could (and should) say it in welsh, but he wants elfgar to hear and understand. "but he started it. said i was stupid."
Mam? Elfgar looks over his shoulder, his smile drooping. He watches the miner fill up the kettle whilst he and Hefina chat in a low tone about their mutual friend the late Susan Droskyn. All the while she's cutting the stems and arranging the flowers in water with a squeeze of lemon juice and a pinch of sugar. Once housed in a vase on the windowsill, they perk up in the weak sun, their six hour transit in a toolbag unlikely to be recognised by the sudden vitality of their leaves.
"Will you pour out?" She asks Ferry once the pot is ready. She disappears into the front room to find the photo album.
The clock ticks loudly between them. Elfgar smiles at the wall, not at Ferry, the cat's betrayal still raw between the both of them.
"Milk in the fridge?" He brushes past to open it, to make himself useful in place of a conversation.
ferry's naturally suspicious of anyone in high-vis. builder, roofer, brickie, sparkie, tradie — doesn't matter who they are or what they do, he doesn't trust high-vis. too many big old bald blokes in orange and yellow have yelled too much shit at him in the streets.
and now there's one in mam's home. and ferry doesn't like it. he's not immune to the chauvinistic rot that starts most pub fights. he knows mam can handle herself, but he's had a bad day, so—
"how t' fuck ye kna mam, eh?" he's still welsh and he's still a nice polite boy, so he still slides over the cup of tea for elfgar. but he's glaring while he does it. "first me cat, now this? movin in next?"
boys don’t do cry
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it's ferry's patriotic welsh duty to react with dismay and outrage if anyone says dragons aren't real
@dymagamwedd
Without meaning to, the builder walks in-step with the miner. He is staring at a piece of paper, his hard-skinned fingers tracing over the postal code before putting it between his teeth; needs both hands to unzip and retrieve the battered bluebells from his rucksack.
They both arrive on the same doorstep and Elfgar startles. He averts his gaze: either because a miner deserves reverance or extreme aversion.
"Wrong ouse ah think."
The door opens. Hefina and Elfgar scream, jig up and down and embrace one other. The dog down the street starts howling to join in with them.
well, that's fucking unexpected. ferry's used to mam knowing everyone, but he didn't expect her to know the builder who keeps feeding their cat at tea break.
he plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and stubs it in the ashtray as he slinks in. mam and elfgar barely notice, dancing as they are. for a moment, ferry just leans on the counter and watches them, wondering what the hell he missed.
but everyone knows the welshie in town will cook for anyone who needs a meal. so that must be it. raising his voice just far enough to be heard over the screaming and howling, he says, "p'nawn da, mam! ch'isio paned?" and after her enthusiastic nod, ferry smacks the kettle on.
