#WHAT THE FUCK MAB

[okcoolthanks]

WHY

I LOOK UP AND THERES A BIG ASS SPIDER RIGHT ABOVE MY HEAD ON YHE CELIKIJG FUCK OFF MAN

[daily-sloop-john-b]

I want to see Harry Dresden as Tav. Give that wizard a gun. Have him be the token straight amongst the bisexual disasters. Let him make references none of the other tadfools understand.

He's gonna be real dubious about all the hot goddesses trying to fuck them over. Let him grab a beer with Gale and be like, 'depression year after your wizard hubris caused your girlfriend to break up with you, and you've spent a year alienating yourself from everyone but your cat? yeah, I've been there, buddy.'

[nintendont2502]

im a fucking god of it just give me my degree now ( < got 80% in one (1) assignment)

[a-wins-a-win]

i fear that b;apo in indianapolis 2008 may well be my new favourite…

York Theater b;apo i still adore you but the indianapolis production is making CHOICES and I’m going FERAL /pos

[angeltism]

seriously what the flip man why is Every Single Person I Know (not really but sh) finding love except for Me . I'm no worse than anyone else I know , I think . So like . What is it about me that is just so undesirable

[murphysiblings]

there are some convos in which agab is relevant but at least from what ive seen 9 times out of 10 when ppl call others amabs or afabs its unnecessary at best and transphobic at worst

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hey. Hi. Hello. Today I learned about the existence of 15th century Welsh poet Gwerful Mechain and that she apparently has a surviving work of erotic poems.

Please. For Christmas. For Yule. Please tell me more because I can't read Welsh.

Heh heh. Oh, Gwerful Mechain is the absolute best.

(Quick housekeeping to keep the post manageable - I previously wrote about things like cynghanedd and cywydds and englyns and such here, so check that if you need an explanation.)

What's fun is that we don't know a ton about her, because not a lot got written down about people in her time. Her surviving work covers a 40ish year span at the end of the 1400s to just into the 1500s, but we don't know when she was born or died or anything like that. We know her parents' names? And that she was from Mechain, hence the bardic name. And that she married a guy and had a daughter, something which actually does mark out her body of work as different from her contemporaries; being a wife and mother, she couldn't do the usual bardic role of travelling the country to spread news and play at courts. This means she doesn't have any of the praise poetry that a lot of male bards produced about the lords that hosted them.

But, there's stuff we can piece together about her. For one thing, she was not just literate (not a universal skill for anyone at that point, but especially for women), but she was astonishingly well-read and had what appears to be a classical education, given her poetic references and traditional Welsh meters. For another, her work often had recurring themes of religion, sex, and women's rights, sometimes all at the same time.

At the point Gwerful was active, Welsh bardic culture heavily featured ymrysonau. An ymryson is like... well, I hesitate to say "sort of like a rap battle" after the way everyone and their dog now thinks that's what the Mari Lwyd does, but they were like a cross between a rap battle and the publication war between two rival academics. A bard would write an englyn and publish it in the local parish newsletter. Another bard would see this, and write their own englyn about how stupid the first bard's englyn was, and publish it in the same newsletter. The first bard would see this and retaliate. The second bard would retaliate to that. And on and on it would go, like a printed tennis match for all the parishioners to enjoy, until someone wrote a conclusive verse OR until someone went "Lol, you got me good there" and bowed out with dignity. Sometimes, these things were fucking vicious; but other times, they were just banter between two bards who knew each other and were enjoying the chance to keep their poetic skills in tip top condition.

Now, Gwerful was an active and enthusiastic participant in ymrysonau. We have many examples of her work from these. There are two of particular note that I'll list here, each against a different bard:

Dafydd Llwyd o Fathafarn. Mathafarn and Mechain are not so distant from one another, so no real surprise that these two locked horns a lot, but the impression I always got from their ymrysonau is that they were good mates, actually. These fell into the 'banter' category more often than not. Dafydd was a Welsh Nationalist who was hoping for a Welshman to rise up and throw off the yoke of English oppression, and most of his work is about that, but he turned up the filthy erotic shit for any ymryson with Gwerful because BOY HOWDY was that her specialty. IIRC she did occasionally poke fun at his Welsh Nash leanings, especially his obsession with Mab Darogan (OLD Welsh idea that translates to the Son of Prophesy - the Arthur-style figure that will one day drive out the English overlords), but mostly their ymrysonau were incredibly beautifully-written odes that could be summed up as "Dafydd, my man, my good friend, I mean this sincerely: suck my entire clit".

She often won.

Ieuan Dyfi. God, what a fucking asshole. This one was not banter. Gwerful played for blood with this prick.

We actually would know nothing about Ieuan Dyfi if not for Gwerful Mechain, because it was her poetic response to him that meant his only surviving poems made it to the modern day; that, and the record of him being brought before a church court where he admitted adultery with Anni Goch, a married woman. Oh, and the record of him being brought before the law courts at Liverpool, accused of domestic abuse and gambling? If I remember right?

Two things to know that set the scene for what came next:

One of Gwerful Mechain's surviving poems is an englyn considered to be possibly the oldest extant poem about domestic violence written by a woman: I’w gŵr am ei churo (To the husband who beats her)

Dager drwy goler dy galon - ar osgo I asgwrn dy ddwyfron; Dy lin a dyr, dy law’n don, A’th gleddau i’th goluddion.

There are a lot of translations for this one to try to keep its poeticness, but this one is pretty good:

Through your heart’s lining let there be pressed, slanting down, A dagger to the bone in your chest. Your knee smashed, your hand crushed, may the rest Be gutted by the sword you possessed.

She has others, too, that deal with sexual assault, and something scholars often note about Gwerful is her remarkable knowledge of the law as it pertained to women's issues. So she was not, you see, a woman with a high view of a man accused of domestic violence anyway.

But then Ieuan Dyfi wrote five poems about Anni Goch, the married woman he'd fucked, each more "Wow dude, she said no" than the last, culminating in I Anni Goch; a full cywydd of misogynistic Medieval-incel bullshit about how false and evil women are, which listed all the false and evil women of history including classical and mythological figures.

And. Well. Gwerful had some views.

Her responding cywydd - I ateb Ieuan Dyfi am gywydd Anni Goch - basically blasted the guy back into his own impact crater and disintegrated him. What she did with it, essentially, was to mirror his cywydd. Where he'd gone "Isn't it so true how great men throughout history have always been brought low by women, amirite lads? Here's examples", Gwerful went "Isn't it so true how 'great men' throughout history have behaved appallingly and fucked up through their own actions and then somehow managed to blame women, amirite lads? Here's examples." Where his examples had been historical figures, so were hers. Where his had been classical, so were hers. Where he went Biblical, so did she.

And what's so interesting about that last one is how pointed she was with it - for some reason, in his big list of evil women, Ieuan Dyfi did not go for the most obvious and low-hanging of fruit (no pun intended) - he doesn't cite Eve. In response, Gwerful also sidesteps the most obvious and low hanging of fruit - she doesn't cite Mary. In so doing, she makes it clear that she doesn't even need to.

There is no record of him responding to her. IIRC, there is a record of him doing three years in prison.

But! Outside of all of that, the big thing Gwerful was known for was her erotic poetry. You'll be unsurprised to hear that it wasn't written for shits and giggles - much like today, women of the time were told that most of their value was in their looks, and they had plentiful insecurities about their bodies. Gwerful wrote her erotic stuff to confront those insecurities and shine a light on the issue. There are so many examples of this, but far and away the most famous is definitely Cywydd y Cedor - roughly translated, 'Ode to the Vulva'. Though I have also seen it titled Cywydd y Gont - Ode to the Cunt. It's such a shame that the English language is literally, physically not capable of cynghanedd, because it means unless you learn Welsh you will never understand the beauty and the lyricism of the piece, and how it elevates and undercuts the content at the same time; but it's a joyful, masterful, irreverent work that uses the fancy language male poets were forever dedicating to the rest of a woman's body and applies it squarely to the vulva. In fact it basically opens with "Men are cowards, describe more cunts or gtfo" before launching into its main subject matter. The last line is pro-pubic hair, too, like I really must stress how much Gwerful Mechain would have to offer Tumblr if you could speak Welsh. This is probably her most widely translated piece, though, you can definitely find English versions. Although you can tell how blushing and reticent the translator is - and therefore how sanitised their translation is - by whether they've called it Ode to the Vulva/Cunt, or Ode to the Pubic Hair.

Needless to say, the original is not sanitised.

(Actually, I should also say - this one is also a response piece, probably, but in this case to a bard who lived a century earlier - Dafydd ap Gwilym, the absolutely legendary and uncontested king of Welsh romance poetry. He wrote a poem called Cywydd y Gal - Ode to the Penis. I have only just put two and two together on that.)

As a final note, I should say that my personal favourite Gwerful Mechain poem on this subject, mind, is actually I'w morwyn wrth gachu - to the maiden who is shitting. It's an englyn written in Gwerful's customary high poetic form, but it is what it says - it describes a woman taking a shit, and farting as she does. Beautiful and magical and disgusting and banal, all in one go:

Crwciodd lle dihangodd ei dŵr - ’n grychiast O grochan ei llawdwr; Ei deudwll oedd yn dadwr’, Baw a ddaeth, a bwa o ddŵr

Funnily enough, it's hard to find a good translation for this one lol.

My attempt:

She crouched where her water escaped - creased From the cauldron of her heat; Her two holes were arguing, Shit came, and a bow of water

Eh. It's so bland in English. Honestly, if you could read Welsh...

Anyway, if anyone reading this can read Welsh and wants to read some of Gwerful Mechain's stuff - including some of the pieces she was responding to in the ymrysonau - you can find a load here. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed!

[gingersnaptaff]

Welsh Law, Women, and The Mab - Mab March Madness 3

Sorry I have been gone for like what a week? Two? Idk. Anyways, I'm super sorry but I bring a TASTY TREAT TO APOLOGISE.

I'm gonna talk about The Mabinogion, Welsh law, and women's rights because boi howdy is a tasty af text. Quick note: I'm gonna be focusing like on every lady BUT I want you to know that they're all great. Another quick note: I'm not an academic but I am SICK AS FUCK OF SEEING PEOPLE USE ONE FUCKIN SOURCE FOR WELSH DIVORCE AND THINKING THAT EQUATES TO THE WHOLE FUCKIN THING. BAM. DONE. FUCK OFF. READ A GODDAMN BOOK. It's so much more complex and, by God, I'm going to tell u about women's rights, OKAY?!

‘Welsh myth,’ writes Peter Berresford Ellis, ‘is not short on determined women.’ Seriously, the Four Branches give us Arawn's wife (who in her only conversation with her husband gets the upper hand, TWICE!) Rhiannon (resourceful af, a fuckin QUEEN,), Branwen (a dignified figure, SENDS A MESSAGE TO HER BROTHER WITH A STARLING, brokenhearted for the destruction done in her name), Cigfa (owner of the only brain cell within the third branch), Aranrhod (actually needs to kill her brother and I support her), Goewin (what she goes through is horrific and she needs a SWORD), and Blodeuwedd (her whole vibe is IMMACULATE). The Three Romances give us Luned (Best girl, not afraid to give Owain a piece of her mind), Angharad (who could be seen as a thingy for colonialism but also generous if her ‘golden-handed’ epithet is anything to go by), and Enid (one of the Three Splendid Maidens of Arthur's court in the Triads! Eat shit, Geraint!)

Furthermore, you have Gwenhwyfar, who would later ‘get the short end of the stick’ within the Anglo-Norman Christian retelling of Arthuriana. Both Arthur - who had three mistresses in Welsh myth - and Gwen herself were having ‘adulterous intrigues’ in Welsh myth. She, particularly in Geraint ac Enid, is a fascinating look at a queen’s role within the Welsh court.

But lemme focus on the Four Branches real quick! They are, I'd argue, an enmeshment of Welsh Law and Welsh myth, in regards to women. Andrew Breeze says the Mab, ‘reads convincingly’ as being written by a woman. Its main thrust is to do with women and how they're treated by the men and the small but significant ways they break out of their patriarchal cycles.

Now, not every branch has laws in it but what they do have is fascinating. This can be most clearly seen in Branch 1 and Rhiannon's whole affair. It is she who holds the command within the first half of the text after she makes herself known to Pwyll. She is the one who makes the first move, as Breeze writes: ‘the shots are called by the woman not the man.’ It is she who rides past him in her ‘shining, golden garment,’ ‘sitting astride a pale-white horse,’ and imitates the chase that ultimately results in Pwyll chasing after her (and exhausted his horse.) Furthermore, she is presented as being the main instigator of the whole affair for she did not wish to be given to Gwawl ap Clud in marriage. This is true to Welsh texts for, as the Venedotian (North Walian) code states, ‘every woman is to go the way she willeth, freely.’ Try as her father might - and he doesn't thankfully, good ol’ Hyfaidd - he cannot force Rhiannon to marry Gwawl, even if he might try. But all this results in him being whacked in a bag and smacked about. ‘And that was the first time that Badger in the Bag was played,’ so the text proclaims.

Now, this personal bestowal or ‘lladrut’ (stolen, secretive, furtive) wasn't looked down upon as you might think. If it was then why did a literal fuckin princess do it in the 1100's? (*Blows kiss to the sky* for as Geraint H. Jenkins writes, ‘a beautiful princess so terrifyingly androgynous that she was liked by Gerald of Wales to the Queen of the Amazons:’ Gwenllian ferch Gruffudd ap Cynan!) This was just as legally binding as a ‘rod o cenedl’ (gift of kindred) marriage, and all children were accepted.

After that though, it Rhiannon she who is on the back foot and regarded suspiciously by Pwyll's court. Her aforementioned white and gold colours would've let the reader/listener of these tales know that she was Otherworldly, something to be feared as much as admired, and so she is by both the men who counsel her husband, and the women her son’s care is entrusted to.

The primary suspicion is cast upon her after she and Pwyll have been married for three years. ‘The nobleman of the land began to worry at seeing a man whom they loved as much as their lord as foster-brother without an heir, and they summoned him to them.

“Lord,” they said, “we know that you are not as old as some of the men of this land, but we are afraid that you will not get an heir from the wife you have. And because of that, take another wife from whom you may have an heir.”’

Now, The Mab brings up an excellent point that the Laws themselves remain silent on - a woman could be divorced if she did not give her husband an heir. Other reasons for a husband to divorce his wife were ‘dependant on her unchastity either before or after a marriage,’ loose conduct in her marriage so like if she had an affair or smth, or ‘failure to observe the terms of the marriage contract.’ Women too could divorce their wives - which is great, sure! - except that they could only do so ‘on the grounds of impotency, leprosy, or fetid breath,’ as well as if she found him committing adultery but only after the third time. There is an inherent imbalance there as well when you take into account that men could have - and raise! - their bastards without scorn. Notable fucker (as in the sexual sense) Owain Gwynedd is perhaps the shining example of this. Man had many kids! His second wife, Cristina, had to give up her legitimate child she'd had with her first husband before she married Owain, and it doesn't seem like she made efforts to contact him after that.

Rhiannon, too, is then further unjustly punished for her loss of the child. ‘Pwyll punishes her,’ writes Berresford Ellis, ‘by ostracising her’ and as The Mab states: ‘there was a mounting block outside the gate,’ and she was, ‘to sit by that every day and tell the whole story to anyone whom she thought might not know it, and offer to carry guests and strangers on her back to the court if they permitted it.’ Luckily nobody does, but it alludes to the ostracisation women had to deal with if they could not give their husband a child, as well as, perhaps, the punishment applies to a woman if it was discovered after she'd married that she was unchaste before said marriage. ‘The woman's clothes were cut to the level of her hips, she was made to hold the tail, well greased, of a year-old steer, which was thrust through a hole in the house door. Two men prodded the steer, and, if the woman could hold the animal, she could keep it as her agweddi [her dowry that was payable by a husband once a marriage was consummated] and that only if she could not, she had to be content with the grease that clung to her fingers.’

Furthermore, as can be seen in ‘Culhwch ac Olwen,’ if a woman was given in marriage - so if she did not elope herself - then only her father and brothers could do so, with the proviso that it was done so in concert with the other generations of the family. Ysbaddaden Pencawr (big giant lad, Olwen's father, winner of the longest beard award for the nth year running) states: ‘“Her four great-grandmothers and four great-grandsires are alive; it is needful that I should take counsel with them.”’ This lines up with Welsh law, where the son of a Welsh woman given in marriage claimed a ‘mamwys’ if they were given in marriage to an alltud (foreigner) then he claimed it from those who were related to him in four degrees.

You can also see this within the Second Branch. Branwen, ‘a sensitive and intelligent young woman,’ the sister of Bendigeidfran and Manawydan and the half-sister of Nisien and Efnisien, is bestowed in marriage to Matholwch, King of Ireland. Efnisien's whole dealio is rage. He's literally named HOSTILE. When he is not consulted on the matter of his sister’s marriage - ‘“Is that what they have done with such a fine maiden,’ he says in The Mab, ‘and my sister at that, given her away without my permission? They could not have insulted me more.”’ - he flies into a rage and ‘went for [Matholwch's] horses, and cut their lips to the teeth and their ears down to their heads, and their tails to their backs, and where he could get a grip on the eyelids he cut them to the bone.’ This act of violence causes Matholwch to abuse Branwen once the couple returns to Ireland, even though an attempted redress upon the insult has been made through Bendigeidfran bestowing the Cauldron of Rebirth (or Pair Dadeni) to his brother-in-law, and results in Branwen rearing a starling to send a message to her brother Or GET HER OUTTA THERE. The ‘sorrows’ that Branwen subsequently endured are traceable to the unjustified revenge of the ‘quarrelsome’ Efnisien for he, being only her half-brother, was not entitled to consultation in the matter of his half-sister's marriage. As Andrew Breeze writes in his book ‘The Origins of the Four Branches of the Mabinogi,’ the starling escapade ‘shows the narrator’s awareness of how a woman might use literacy to escape from bindsge and male violence.’ It is this letter that brings about her liberation, as well as the fleet from Britain. This stratagem also achieves the redress for Branwen that Bendigeidfran’s attempt. Personally, for me, this shows why divorce would be fuckin pointless for her. She is hidden. She is being abused. She gets given ‘a box on the ear’ every day. Do you think she can escape from that?

Likewise, with Enid ‘a patient’ young woman, she could NOT divorce Geraint. She is the daughter of Ynwyl, ‘chieftain who has fallen on evil days,’ and is fuckin dirt poor. She could keep her gowyn, cowyll, and argyfreu - payments made payable to the woman by the man after they were married - ‘although the Venedotian code deprived her of the latter if the separation were caused by the woman’s own immortality,’ but, unless you were a King's daughter, it wouldn't amount to much. Enid’s predicament within the text is made that much more brutal when you realise it's Gwenhwyfar who has given her and Geraint leave to marry. It is she who is ‘entrusted with the Maiden [Enid]’ once she arrives at court along with Geraint. Arthur is the one to give Enid to Geraint. If she fled then she would be insulting both the King and the Queen.

Furthermore, it is not a divorce within the modern-day sense. The Laws speak of ‘ysgar,’ or separation. A distinction was drawn between separation before or after seven years - for, unlike with say the Normanic church marriage wasn't seen as being for life as such, but was merely a contract that could be broken but only by mutual consent. This distinction only affected the woman's rights the woman had in property. Enid, Branwen, and also Blodeuwedd could only divorce if their husbands agreed to it. Neither Geraint, Matholwch, nor Lleu Llaw Gyffes would want to divorce their wives for 1) he's a dick and would rather she ‘constantly prove her love and loyalty to him,’ 2) she’s Queen of Ireland - although she says herself she wryly says, “though I am no ‘lady'” when she is questioned about the mysterious 'forest on the sea’ - and, chiefly, has given him a son, and 3) Blodeuwedd, 'the most beautiful maiden that anyone had ever seen’ was ‘conjured’ for Lleu. He owns her entirely. For as Sauders Lewis has her say in his play ‘The Woman Made of Flowers: Blodeuwedd,’ ‘I bear Llew's collar.’

Plus, if you don't possess land by yourself - which I think neither lady I've mentioned does, really - then she could not enter into ‘any bargains or surety’ in regards to Sarhâd - blood-price - and so her husband must do it for her. You could say, if you wanted to get really out there, that the war between Wales and Ireland is Branwen's Sarhâd, although that's speculative and I'm hesitant to give it a complete YES.

Now, to THE QUEEN. The laws give an look at what exactly an insult towards the queen would entail - as does the Mab - when Gwenhwyfar is assaulted by a knight in Peredur: ‘And the knight grabbed the goblet from Gwenhwyfar's hand and poured the drink that was in it over her face and breast, and gave Gwenhwyfar a great clout of the ear.’ This punishment echoes Branwen's, as well as the one she receives from Mordred in The Triads where he ‘dragged [her] from her royal chair and struck a blow upon her.’ No surprise, would be seen as Bad Fuckin News.

The Laws are clear on this: striking the Queen was seen as an insult. In Arthuriana, Mordred - or, in some cases, Gwenhwyfach's - striking of Gwenhwyfar leads to the Battle of Camlann. In the Mab, this clout on Branwen’s ear also leads to war. I’d also say you could take this further and suggest that Rhiannon’s treatment - being a horse - is an insult as - I’m assuming - you're not gonna be nice to the woman you're using as a LITERAL STEED. Anyways, like I've mentioned beforehand it was the Queen’s job to take care of the ladies of her court, and, also, fun fact, the amobyr (a fee payable for the maidenhead of the woman), was payable to the queen instead of the King after their daughter married. Not much is said about the queen in regard to her position within the laws, but we have to be grateful for what we do have.

The queen had no political power - except maybe through her personal influence of the King, like, say, Joan, Princess of Wales. This ‘soft power,’ as it were, could be used when you became Queen Dowager, as evidenced by the way Queen Angharad, the wife of Gruffudd ap Cynan used the lands she'd been granted on her becoming queen to aid her wayward third-born son, Cadwaladr - although she had a ‘wide power of protection, a considerable special entourage of servants,’ and possessed certain privileges like ‘the right to circuit the land.’ Furthermore, there was never a ruling queen throughout Welsh history when the Laws of Hywel Dda were in operation, and certainly no Queen Regnant. (Strange considering the laws were drawing on Celtic sources where there were defo women leaders like Boudicca (Buddug) and Cartimandua. ‘This ambivalence of gender,’ writes Alice Roberts in The Celts, ‘[provided] women the possibility to achieve the highest status in society’ so it is curious as to why the later Welsh have dropped this. Surely, on account of that, they would not be opposed to it? However, Barry Cunliffe writes ‘it must be readily admitted that any consideration of Celtic social systems is likely to be biased, not only by the prejudices and preconceptions of the Graeco-Roman sources but by the narrow time span and geographical area over which they range.’ As well as this, ‘women clearly occupied a more significant position in Celtic society than they did in the Graeco-Roman world’ and this can be seen within Welsh law, I'd just caution anybody who thinks it was a noted feminist utopia.

Yet the queen's high status can be evidenced in there being both the ‘transmission of royal dignity through the female’ as well as ‘devolution of land through females,’ thus allowing the matrilineal descent to hold the same reverence as male which was very v handy for Owain Glyndŵr cuz his mam was descended from the house of Gwynedd. As well as that, the Queen had her own privy purse and ‘it was a universal rule - so in ALL codes - that one-third of the income derived from the king went to the queen for her personal use.’ Plus, all officers of the household were ‘under her socially’ and received their linens from her, while the Judge of the Court received his insignia of office, that being a gold ring, from her too once he was invested. Furthermore, she was second to the king in status - including to the Etifedd or Edling, that being the king's first bastard or legitimate son!

(Look, all my essay stuff is interconnected. It's the Marvel Universe of Wales. The Cymru-verse. 🤷)

The ‘dominant role of women within the Mabinogion’ does reflect in some ways the power women had within Welsh society. It is, perhaps, our finest link to showing what rights women had within the time period. Certainly, it's a valuable text in both a feminist sense AND a mythological one. Certainly as Miranda Aldhouse-Green writes in ‘Enchanted Wales’ ‘it is my belief that … some medieval mythic narratives may have drawn inspiration … from Iron Age and Roman Welsh culture.’ This bridging is evident within both mythology and the Laws of Hywel Dda, or Cyfraith Hywel. Whether it be in Pwyll Pen Annwfn, or Peredur, Owain, or The Dream of Macsen Wledig these tales serve as a bridge to both the medieval and the ancient, and, with them, so to do we get a view on Medieval Wales’ attitudes to women.

Women are front and centre across pretty much all eleven - twelve if you count The Tale of Taliesin - tales. As Bendigeidfran says in The Mab, ‘I will be a bridge,’ so too are these vitally important texts. Both they and the laws are heavily Christianised, yes, but their outer trapping of Celticism remains.

You gotta remember these laws were codified by Hywel Dda, but they're drawing on earlier Celtic laws. Hywel Dda was Christian (he wrote the laws in about the mid-tenth century although the earliest manuscripts we have are later, from the 13th, a bit like the Mab!) but - much like whoever the writer of the Mab was, be they an anonymous monk, or, as Andrew Breeze postulates, Gwenllian ap Gruffudd ap Cynan - drew on earlier Celtic sources. Furthermore, Cyfraith Hywel is a bloody wonderful text! Do you know that it has a law relating to intersex people?! No? Well here we are: ‘If a person be born with the members of a man and those of a woman, and it be doubtful of which it may make use; some say, that according to such as it principally may use, its privilege is to rank; but, if it make use of each, the law says, that it is to rank with the highest privilege, and that is the privilege of a man: and, if it should become pregnant, the offspring is to have the patrimony of the man who caused the pregnancy; but, if it should make a woman pregnant, the son is then to obtain its patrimony.’

*Blows a kiss to the sky* For Cyfraith Hywel. There's a reason he's known as ‘The Good.’ There's a reason why The Senedd (Welsh Parliamenus's building that houses the members of the Senedd and their staff is called Tŷ Hywel or Hywel's House. He's a big dealio.

Anyways, Welsh law is great. Read a fuckin book. If anybody makes a half-baked assumption about Welsh law again, I'm killing you and taking all your teeth.

Sources

Peter Berresford Ellis - Celtic Women

Sioned Davies - The Mabinogion

Miranda Aldhouse-Green - Enchanted Wales

Barry Cunliffe - The Celtic World & Ancient Celts (Second Edition)

Andrew Breeze - The Origins of The Four Branches of The Mabinogi

Alice Roberts - The Celts

Thomas Peter Ellis - Welsh Tribal Law (DM for a link if you want it!)

[aq2003]

archive dive #3: romeo and juliet (2000)

i fucking loved this so so much. ohhhhh it was so good. i am fond of the baz luhrmann movie but my one gripe w it is the portrayal of the titular characters feels too boring and here it's like. i can't even joke david tennant and alex gilbreath are perfect for the roles and i'm obsessed. i feel like this production really nails the tone most of all; when i was reading the play again i found it kinda fucked up and dark, like while it was funny at times (like any shakespeare play is) it very much wasn't this light fantastical sweeping romance, even at the beginning before the deaths start happening...and it feels like michael boyd thought the same when approaching the story. it feels slightly unconventional but also the original felt like that to me too, if that makes sense. anyway i loved the music and choreography in this soooo much and the seperate curved walls symbolizing the two families is just [chefs kiss]. it's a great production all around and i'm forever jealous of the people who got to watch it live

prev / archive dive tag / next

david wrote about it in his romeo essay of course but i love the choice to have romeo narrate the prologue in the middle of the big brawl between the families at the beginning. the fact that it's a romeo after his death looking back on the tragedy with a sense of resignation but also serenity like yessss yessssssss <- sicko. he was doomed from the start because of the world he lived in etc etc

you can feel the teenage angst dripping off romeo the minute he walks onto the stage (after the prologue during his actual first scene). his back is to the camera as benvolio hugs him but the angst is still so palpable. it's coming off of him in waves. just the way that he walks. so real

"in sadness, cousin, i do love...........................a woman" why did he pause like that. this is so funny. what is the implication here.

david plays romeo's self-dramatizing lovesickness perfectly but also this was the exact energy i expected he would also bring to berowne and he surprisingly did not! i will talk about this in the LLL post but i will leave this note here for now

i love alex's voice an inordinate amount and i think it is just a perfect fit for juliet. i think a big thing with juliet is that she sort of acts/imagines herself as much older than she actually is (bc that's how her family sees her too) and her having that kind of raspy, deeper voice lends itself well to that

mercutio is a really interesting bit of this production because it's the one element i feel like is the least faithful to the text (or at least, whatever my reading of the text is). he's very clearly jealous, and a lot of his lines poking fun at romeo's love life feel way less humorous than they were originally written to be. like of course this mercutio is witty and fun which goes for basically any good mercutio but he's also a bit vindictive here! he's cynical about love specifically because of romeo's rejection of him! it's not bad and it def feeds into the tone the production is going for but it is still very Different to me

like by comparison you look at harold perrineau's mercutio (bombastic and campy and fun with this undercurrent of past tragedy to him) or dt's audio drama mercutio (filled w a lust for life without the actual lust. he's just here for a good time) and adrian's mercutio just feels like a whole different character. he even gets aggressive with romeo and pins him down for half of the queen mab speech and it's like mercutio we can find you another twink for you to make heart eyes at it's okay.

i wonder if the familiarity between mercutio and romeo + that line reading on "i do love a woman" a while back implies that they had some kind of history together? is that why mercutio feels so possessive and jealous over romeo? much to think about

the whole stage changing color back to blue during the dance when juliet and romeo first lay eyes on each other. Oh baby

the curved line the capulets form as they hold hands and walk off the stage after the dance imitating the curve of the wall <33

i'm obsessed with how alex delivers the "you kiss by the book" line. it's so funny. i think in general juliet is so interesting because she's less sensitive and "romantic" than romeo is, like if he's this emotional misunderstood poet than she's more of a grounded realist and is almost surprised by how her feelings bloom out of her. in her head it's like she's aware of romeo's unimpressive aspects (like his cookie cutter pickup lines and his mediocre kissing) but she's still enchanted with him anyway because (to steal a line from doctor who) he's the first person she's met who is remotely like her

i love the song the chorus does at the start of act 2, originally i kind of imagined it being done in the same way as the prologue but it would not make as much sense for ghost romeo to come back in now that the story is rolling along lol

the balcony scene... ahhh the balcony scene. i love how romeo starts off with his back pressed against the wall representing the montagues and then when he works up the courage, makes his way over to the capulet wall where juliet is standing at the top of. symbolism!

juliet hitting her head on the wall to punctuate every word of "wherefore art thou romeo" a) is a great way of approaching the text without over-sentimentality + the baggage of "oh these are some of shakespeare's most famous lines" and b) makes the line a lot more easy to understand for a random audience member watching it (like how she's not asking "where" but "why" and is frustrated by the situation she's found herself in)

the two of them reaching for each other over the wall during the "i would i were thy bird" bit made me go "awww :("

mercutio pushing romeo away when he screams "a plague o' both your houses" (while letting himself get carried away by benvolio)... like Oh yeah it's not even actually about the montagues and the capulets at this point he is blaming romeo specifically and i'm positively sure romeo is looking at him with the sad_wet_david_tennant_eyes.gif

the way romeo's voice breaks when he says "but mercutio's soul is a little way above our heads" someone hug him please. oh my god?

3.3 was done so well and i am so [screams loudly] abt it. just in general i think this scene is VERY important to romeo's character, bc this is basically where you understand his turmoil and why he feels like he can't live in a world without juliet. he's traumatized by his friend's death and thinks his soulmate hates him forever and that his life is over. and you get the sense maybe he was always teetering on the edge of a cliff too. it needs to be given the right amount of weight, it can't shy away from this horrible meltdown he's having. and i think david really does it justice in his portrayal of it. the way he paces around in this uncomfortable and frantic way like he doesn't want to be in his own body n how he screams and lashes out and tries to claw at his skin. it is so heartbreaking thank u david i'm so fucked up now

and like the way that friar lawrence takes the dagger from romeo and goes on his whole spiel about how he needs to man up and stop crying and this just makes romeo start crying harder like oh my god. Ohhhhhhhh my god i actually need to be shot

somewhat delving into hc territory but i think romeo (dt's version especially) is very sensitive and seeks out love and affection wherever he can find it bc his parents were emotionally neglectful towards him (while friar lawrence was far more understanding and attentive by comparison, and generally much more of an actual father figure towards him). but even then friar lawrence has his moments of "stop having those stupid girly feelings romeo". i feel like juliet is the only person in the play who doesn't see romeo's emotions as unseemly or ridiculous

i was reading the prompt book alongside watching this and they changed juliet's line "love, lord, ay husband, friend" to "love, lord, my husband, friend" as if that line couldn't get more tragic. my husband. my friend. fuck!!

also. guys i need lord capulet DEAD and GONE. clean shot. ok anyways

one of, if not my favorite scene in the play is in 4.3 where juliet monologues about what could go wrong before drinking the sleeping potion. it's like... she has to be incredibly brave to even get by in her life, whether that be her relationship with romeo or her father threatening her or her accepting the potion from friar lawrence in the first place. her life is actively scary in a way that romeo's isn't and obeying her family would be so much easier but she still doesn't give in and stop fighting. bc her life is hers and she won't let her one choice she made for herself be taken away from her. but here all of that bravery falls away because she basically has to give up and surrender. she's just left with herself and a drink that will basically kill her and it's so genuinely fucking terrifying for her and it makes me want to eat rocks. she is just so young and scared and she has to look death in the face for a chance of freedom and it's so fucking sad because you know it's not going to work and she's doomed by the narrative

AND THE STAGE TURNS BLUE WHEN JULIET HALLUCINATES TYBALT'S GHOST. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. SHE'S SO TERRIFIED AND RIGHTFULLY SO. SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING COULD GO WRONG BUT SHE DOES IT ANYWAY. BUT WE KNOW SHE'S DEAD. SHE'S BEEN DEAD FROM THE BEGINNING.

anyway that scene was cut out in the baz luhrmann movie but it's here in this production which makes me very happy, as happy as i can be about this very upsetting scene where this young girl is finally overwhelmed by her fear of death

mentioning another thing david wrote about in his essay but romeo in act 5 isn't overindulgent and emotional anymore just determined and driven towards his end. but also actually watching it, for me it's just so so sad because it's like. you want that overemotional romeo back, the romeo that was coming up with love poetry on the spot or crying over being separated from juliet. at that point he still wanted to live for her but now it's like he's filled with this cold finality of "oh, i can only be together with her in death. and there is nothing i have left to do but to make that happen"

romeo's final speech to juliet. david tennant i'm in your walls

juliet's dying gasps/sobs as she sinks into the grave with romeo in her arms. alex gilbreath i'm in your walls

the light of the stage turning blue as the ghosts of juliet and romeo come out of the grave and exit the stage together as their parents agree to resolve the conflict between the families... (the only other times it turned blue were when ghost romeo came out to narrate the prologue, when romeo and juliet first meet each other, and right before juliet drinks the sleeping potion). i am sick

the music at the end of the play/during the curtain call is so melancholy and beautiful I AM SICK

such a good production. fuck

[okcoolthanks]

HE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING

FUCKING DAVE

[satorusugurugurl]

Part of My World

Pairing: Gojo Satoru X MAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,704

Warnings, Ropes, public play, gags, arranged marriage, bottom!gojo, public vehicle sex?? (Is it vehicle sex or carriage sex??)

A/N: I received this request from @princeasimdiya12 for a Gojo x MAB!Reader. I had so much fun thinking of ideas of what to do, and the story just took off on its own! Please enjoy!

The scorching sun burned your skin as you went through the palace. Your parents had informed you that your future husband was waiting for you near the fountain in the gardens. To say you were not excited at all was an understatement. Gojo Satoru was notorious for being annoying.

He always made a commotion at every event he attended. Teasing other princes and princesses, insulting the elders (regardless if they deserved it), and relishing that he was the most eligible prince. Little did you both know he wasn't as eligible as he thought. Just last month, the Gojo and Y/L/N families officially announced that you were to be married.

Gojo, of course, threw a fuss the last time you had seen him. Arguing that he didn't want to move to your desert kingdom, that he would much rather you stay in his coastal kingdom. The tantrum was so terrible both your parents agreed it would be best for the two of you to tour each other's kingdoms.

Of course, he wanted to start with yours.

You could see where he was coming from. Your kingdom was hot, surrounded by sand, and there wasn't much to do. But your people made the desert kingdom an oasis. The streets were always bustling with vendors and life. It, indeed, was a magical place to live.

“Finally!” A vein twitches in your forehead as you turn to spot your future husband sitting on the edge of the large fountain in the center of the courtyard. “Do you know how long I've been waiting? It's hot out here.”

A breath caught in your throat as Gojo stood up. He was wearing the robes of your people. Tunic sleeves are short and light blue. His pants were slightly baggy, hanging on his hips. Fuck why did he look so hot? The image of him had your cock throbbing inside your pants as you quickly turned away.

“Go down, go down.” You commanded your cock. “Fuckin’.”

“Hey!” Bright blue eyes popped into your view, causing you to jump. “What's your problem?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing!” Clearing your throat, you tried to look anywhere but his body. “Where did you get the clothes?”

Gojo smirked, stepping around you like a shark would circle their prey. “Oh, please, since our engagement was announced, I’ve done my research. I know everything about you, Prince Y/N, and your kingdom.” You seriously doubted that, but as he spoke, he lifted the top of his robes, causing you to suck in a breath.

The robes that Gojo wore were those a bride or groom would wear. Underneath that, his body was tied with silk ropes, squishing his pectoral muscles together and twisting around his torso in intricate designs of hearts. Your Y/E/C eyes trailed further down his body, admiring how the dark blue silk stood out against his ivory skin and how tiny his waist looked. Fuck, how had you never noticed Gojo’s figure before?

Your eyes lingered on his v-line; a well-trimmed happy trail led further. This was unbelievable; what was he doing? What was he thinking?! Wearing robes and ropes like these was something to do on the wedding night. Not your first day showing him around the kingdom. You were about to turn your head to look the other way when Gojo’s hand moved. You followed it, watching with wide eyes as he tugged his pants down, just a bit revealing the base of his semi-hard cock, which was also wrapped in the intricate ropes.

“W-What are you—?”

”Y/N, I don’t like beating around the bush. If we're going to be together, I want to make sure my needs will be satisfied, along with yours.” He gently tugged at the two strings hanging off the side of his hip. When he did, the ropes around his body tightened, causing both of you to moan. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not about to buy a carriage without a test drive.” Oh yeah, no, this was fucking crazy. “What, cat got your tongue?” Satoru sneered, tugging the string again, making an almost pathetic whine resonate in his throat.

If you don’t do something soon, you will lose your mind. It was hard enough seeing his body like this, but hearing him talk, those dirty words and the teasing tone. You wouldn’t be able to take him on the stupid tour of the kingdom if he kept up this act. If anything, it would end with you dragging him to your chambers. There was always time for that later. Right now, it would help if you did something about his mouth.

“Awe, I left you speechless.”

Your arm snapped out, grabbing the strings from Satoru and giving them a hard tug. “Speechless, no.” Whimpers slipped from Satoru’s mouth as you tugged the strings harder. “I was just thinking you talk too much.” Your other hand squeezes his face, his lips turning into a pout under your fingers and thumb. “Plus, you forgot one essential part, your veil.”

(~)(~)(~)(~)(~)

The tour of the kingdom was going smoothly. You had begun at the palace, showing your future husband around the many rooms, the gardens, and the courtyard before you both made your way into town by carriage. The ride was enjoyable, but it was even more fun the second you stepped out. You and Satoru walked around, bowing at the villagers as you passed, making small talk with vendors, just enjoying another warm and sunny day amongst your people with your future husband by your side.

Gojo kept his eyes focused forward, not paying attention to much of what was going on. No one was wise enough to pick up on what was going on. But the two of you, you knew what he was hiding underneath the pretty robes. A secret that was making you harder and harder with every passing second. From the muffled whimpers and twitches from Gojo, you had a distinct feeling that he was enjoying himself just as much.

”Oh, Prince Y/N, Prince Gojo, it is truly a pleasure!’ A young vendor boasted as you looked over the wines in their booth. “Is there anything you were looking to purchase?’

”Hmm, I’m not sure; what do you think, darling?” Gojo shot an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Yes, Prince Gojo, is there anything you want to partake of? Please, anything is on the house for you, our future king!”

Blue eyes glanced around, roaming over the inventory. As they did, you tugged on the strings near his hip, causing the ropes to tighten. Gojo’s eyes went wide as a muffled moan sounded from his throat. Your future husband hunched over slightly in an attempt to conceal the growing tent in his robes. Ever since the veil had been put on his face, the same veil that hides the silk cloth gag in his mouth, you had made it your life's sole purpose to tease him.

The young vendor gave him a puzzled look as you loosened your grip on the strings. “My prince, are you alright?” Satoru had just straightened, gaining some form of self-restraint, and before he could nod or gesture in any way, you tugged the strings again, harder this time. The sudden action had Gojo nearly falling over. “Prince Gojo?!” The vendor's worried tone drew the attention of a few bystanders.

“Oh no, are you alright?” To anyone else, you were the concerned fiance. To Gojo, you were the main culprit behind his throbbing erection. “I think the desert heat is getting to my precious flower.” Your tone was full of faux concern. “I should get him home, but I will have my guards pack whatever you recommend. I will also pay you double for the goods.”

“Oh, you're so generous! Thank you!!”

You grinned, waving to the people and vendors as you helped Gojo back into the carriage. The moment the door shut, you snickered into your palm. Winning a glare from your betrothed. He was not in the slightest amused with your enjoyment of this.

“Yw’ll pwy fh ehwy.” His barely inaudible muffled whines slipped through the gag. “Athwle!”

Either he told you that you would pay for this, or it was some form of gibberish you couldn't understand. “Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying.” More muffled whines and moans filled the carriage.

He was most likely getting annoyed with the torturous teasing you were putting him through. In all actuality, he brought this on himself. Gojo was the one to show up in those robes. He was the one who revealed the intricate ropes decorating his beautiful body. You did what any other person would do. Claim what was yours.

“Pwhse.”

“Huh?” You heard that request this time. His hands toyed with the strings dangling from his hip. “Please?” Gojo responded with a wine and a nod, white hair in his eyes. “Please, what?”

He scooted closer to you, dropping the strings into the palm of your hand. He was putting so much trust in you. Someone he barely knew. Yet he was still willing to give you the power to not only please him but to please yourself as well. As your fingers curled around the ropes, you realized that this match might not be as bad as you both thought it would be.

“Fine, since you said please so nicely.” you tugged the strings as hard as possible. The sharp, stinging sensation resonated from almost every inch of Gojo's skin, a pained pleasure. That had him rocking his head back as the carriage began moving. His hips were thrusting against nothing as he whined. “My gods, you're not so against my kingdom now, are you?”

Slowly, you pulled the veil off, revealing the drooling, messy mouth of your betrothed. “Pwse! Pwsease!” The weeping noises had you smirking as you tugged the string harder.

“You're so fucking beautiful like this.” You slid your hand into his pants, stroking his cock slowly. “Dressed in the robes of my people, only to be dressed for your husband underneath them.” his cock throbbed at your words, the tip dribbling precum out of the head. “You like that, like hiding your dirty secret under these clothes, a secret only I get to revel in.”

“Fwk mw!” Satoru cried out, making you cease your strokes over his cock. You couldn't be sure if he said what you believed he said. Noticing the confusion in your eyes, Satoru huffed a loud scoff, drawing your attention to his gagged mouth. “Fwk mw,” he repeated, emphasizing the words as best as he could while gagging.

“Fuck you?”

You needed to clarify that this was what he wanted. When he nodded, you felt like your heart was about to explode. He wanted to be with you, and gods be damned, toy wanted it too. But there were steps you needed to do, prep, that required you to be with each other. Seeing the hesitation on your face, Satoru sighed before shimming his way out of his pants and briefs.

You sat back, swallowing hard at your dry throat as he turned, revealing his hole, stretched and lubricated, ready for you. It seems as though your fiance truly had done his research. Without hesitation, you all but tackled Satoru to the floor of the carriage, kissing his neck and running the tip of your tongue over the ropes and his skin. Fuck he tasted so sweet; you needed him.

He pulled your robes down, your cock bouncing “Satoru.” You groaned out before spitting into your hand, lubing up your cock. “Fuck I want you.” In response, he wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you down on top of him as his legs snaked around your waist. “I-I’ll take that as a yes!”

“Yws!” He sounded but nodded to make sure his consent was concise.

Holy shit, this was happening, all of the teasing, the bickering, the attitude. It had led to this. You never assumed that your betrothal to Gojo would lead to such an erotic moment in your life. This was definitely how you imagined your first day with your fiancé turning out. Yet here you were, on top of your future husband, your cock pressing against his tight hole.

You were so lost in your thoughts that Gojo huffed out a whine before pushing you inside. You winced as the head of your cock slipped inside of him. The tight warm heat nearly hard you cumming as he clenched down on you. He felt so good; gods, you needed more; you required all of his body, mind, and soul!

“Are you alright?” Your lips hovered over the gag. Satoru took a second, white brows pinched together as he adjusted to your size. A moment passed before he hummed, nodding his head again. “Good~ now be quiet. We don't want the guards to hear us.”

You slowly began thrusting in and out of Gojo with whimpers and whines. Gripping his hips as you set a pace. It was slow and steady, the carriage gently rocking in time with your movements. Thank fuck. Gojo was still wearing a gag because he was loud with it in. You couldn't imagine how he would sound if he weren’t wearing the gag.

His whines were like your own personal drug. The more he whined and whimpered against the ropes, the harder you found yourself thrusting into him. Desperation ruled your mind and your cock. You wanted to make him cry, wanted to see his eyes roll back into his head. Gojo Satoru was your fiance, your husband, and you were his in every shape and form.

Pushing his cock in as deep as you could, you hit that particular spot inside of him. One you had read about in books or heard people talking about in passing. Gojo whimpered, eyes wide as he arched his back, his legs tightened around you, urging you to stay where you were, to have you keep hitting that special spot. Taking his not-so-subtle hint, you pulled out just a bit before slamming your hips into that special spot, rocking into it over and over until tears began to well in those big, beautiful blue eyes.

“Mwphh!” Satoru cried out, those big tears rolling over flushed cheeks.

More? He wanted even more? He must be close. “Anything for you.” Your large hand wrapped around his shaft, jerking him off in time with your bullying thrusts that kept hitting that spot deep inside of him.

“Ngggh! MMM!” Satoru’s body stiffened, back arching as he clamped down on you so hard you felt your balls clench. Satoru’s cock throbbed in your hard as he came, spurts of white cum hitting his chest, your hand, hell, it even hit his chin. The pure glazed-over look in his eyes had you thrusting several more times before his clenching became too much.

“Fuck,” you whispered, yanking the gag out of his mouth, “I’m cumming, fuck, fuck fuck.” You pressed your lips against his drool-covered mouth, silencing your moans as your cock throbbed inside him. You filled him with your cum, pushing it deep inside of him until you both laid them, twitching in overstimulation. “Satoru.”

“Mhmm.” He hummed happily, pulling you down so you were lying flush against his cum coated chest. “That settles it.”

Pulling back just an inch, you watched him. “Settles what?” A chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you shook your head. “Did I somehow fuck the brains out of you?”

”You sure did, Prince Y/N,” His long fingers slowly ran through your Y/H/C hair. Finger twisting around the strands. “I gave you a test ride.” A bark of a laugh escaped you as you helped Gojo sit up. “I want to sign my agreement to be yours and yours alone.”

“Only if you let me do the same.” You shared a kiss with the man you were arranged to marry. An arrangement that you had come to love.

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle]

Day 19: Phantom Thief AU

“That bastard!” Chuuya yells, heart beating out of his chest. 

It’s the fourth time this week he’s been /so close/ to getting that shitty thief. It’s also the fourth time this week he’s been jumpscared by that shitty thief, too.

“What was it this time, Chuuya-san?” Akutagawa asks as he comes up behind Chuuya, peering around his shoulder.

There, on the ground, lie fake spiders scattered around from falling out of a bucket when the door was opened.

Akutagawa had come rushing when he heard the bucket fall followed by an — admittedly — high pitch scream.

“That slimy piece of shit fucking boobytrapped the place,” Chuuya says, exasperated, as he gestures at the crime scene. His other hand is clutched to his vest.

“And you’re positive it was him?” Akutagawa cautiously double-checks. He trusts his superior, really, but it’s been weeks of searching for this mysterious man and they’ve yet to uncover a real lead.

“I’m positive,” Chuuya grumbles. “There’s only one person who would have the guts to challenge me. Me, Akutagawa!”

All Akutagawa can do is sigh. Chuuya’s a world-renowned detective, and Akutagawa’s been fortunate enough to have him as a mentor.

But in having the pleasure of this experience, he’s also come to realize that Chuuya can be a bit… stubborn, to put it lightly.

Once the redhead sets his mind on his target, it’s hard to convince him otherwise.

Their target for the past month has been none other than Dazai Osamu, a world-class actor who came from nowhere and who has never publicly done anything wrong.

His background’s a tad bit shady but there’s no evidence to go along with it so Akutagawa ruled him out early on in this man-search.

Akutagawa doesn’t believe he could be the one stealing jewels from famous museums such as the one they’re in now. After all, why would a rich actor need even more money? If he was that desperate, he could just buy the whole museum.

They scout the place some more, with no more boobytraps to be found, and wrap up their work. The ride back to their office is filled with Chuuya’s complaints and curses at the man.

With no new information on the case, they’re forced to retire early for the night, though Akutagawa doesn’t doubt that Chuuya will attempt an all-nighter whether he’s in the office or at his apartment.

The next day finds them at yet another jewel museum in the next town over. This time a sapphire was taken, just like all of their other cases.

They’ve expanded their search to the furthest it could be, even checking the roof for anything suspicious.

“Greedy blue-obsessed freak,” Chuuya grumbles, retracing their steps. There’s no hints or traces to how their thief even managed to steal the gem without the alarms going off.

Akutagawa hasn’t spotted anything of note either. They split up a little bit ago, now on opposite sides of the main room to double check the entrances/exits. Akutagawa’s beyond stumped.

Behind him across the room, he hears Chuuya shove something aside and then–

“Motherfucker!”

As to be expected.

There’s a ruckus, followed by a bang against the wall, so Akutagawa turns around.

Pinned against the wall is a man in gray, caught in Chuuya’s grasp, though he doesn’t appear to be struggling.

Akutagawa makes his way towards the two, trying to figure out who their thief is. Beside the pair, a large case holder to display jewelry has been shoved aside, and Akutagawa can see a crevice behind it, similar to the space underneath a desk.

“Got you, faker.” Chuuya grins, pushing further against their perpetrator. And with that, he reaches a hand forward to yank off the mab’s bedazzled mask.

Akutagawa’s jaw drops.

“I knew it was you,” Chuuya says, sounding feral with pride.

There, in his grasp, is one Dazai Osamu, world-class actor and apparent thief.

“Hmm,” Dazai hums. From his coat pocket, he drags out something, holding it up to Chuuya’s face as he squints. “Mm, not quite the same. Boo~”

Akutagawa knows he should probably do something, like get his handcuffs out to help Chuuya, but all he can do is ask, “Not quite the same what?”

Dazai glances over at him, only just now seeming to notice him. “The chibi’s eyes, of course!”

Akutagawa’s even more confused now. Does Chuuya know him? “Why do you need a gem that matches Chuuya-san’s eyes?”

“For our weddi–” Dazai starts, only to have Chuuya’s hand slapped over his mouth.

“Bastard,” Chuuya murmurs. Behind them, the screech of another case holder sounds.

Out from under it, a white-haired boy crawls out. “Dazai-san, can we be done here? It’s hot.” He complains.

Upon noticing Akutagawa’s glance, he merely leans against the wall nearest him, as if waiting for whatever is happening to be done.

“It’s okay, Atsushi-kun! Chuuya has water in the car,” Dazai shouts.

“You could have just asked these places nicely, bastard,” Chuuya says. “You know they would’ve just let you borrow them under the guise of ‘scenes.’”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Dazai whines, deflating in Chuuya’s arms as he throws himself around the detective.

Chuuya sighs, “And where have you been keeping them?”

“Ranpo owed me a favor~”

Chuuya only scoffs, arms wrapped around the actor. “I’m too tired for this. Whatever, just put the gem back and let’s get out of here. We can return the rest tomorrow.”

“Wh– but Chuuya-san, don’t we have to take him in?” Akutagawa asks. It’s their sworn job, after all.

“I’ll talk to Fukuzawa-san about this,” Chuuya says. “He’ll understand. Probably.”

And with that, Chuuya unwraps himself from Dazai, earning whines as he forces Dazai to return the gem to its case.

Akutagawa’s still trying to wrap his mind around everything that just happened, missing how Dazai gets it back in there without damaging or removing the glass.

He can only follow after Dazai and Chuuya as they head out, him and Atsushi following along. Beside him, he hears Atsushi scoff when the two in front of them intertwine their hands.

Akutagawa doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to take this job seriously.

[antinitoniny]

WHAT D Y'ALL KNOW ABOUT ANTON, TWITTER PPL WHY R U LIKING PHOTOS OF MY MAB WHAT DO Y'ALL KNOW ABT HIM WHY IS HE FUCKING TRENDING IM AN ANTON GATEKEEPER

anyway 🥰🥰😍😍😛😛

[alwaysanovice]

Butters: What fucking sociopath made it legal for it to be this cold out? Harry: My boss, Queen Mab. Butters: We need to kill Queen Mab. Harry: I'm trying.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 2

Propaganda

Graham Casner (The White Vault):

White Vault spoilers:

[Coughing violently]

Graham Casner survived the Forrmynður, the thing that will stop at nothing to sacrifice you

He deserves this as a break and a reward

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

Mab (Monstrous Agonies):

Queen of the fey, fabulous, frequent not-quite nemesis of the Presenter of the podcast, then ally against capitalism

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Graham Casner (The White Vault):

Peter Joseph Lewis hottest voice of all time

#I know he's gonna lose but gotta go with Graham

#I am tma girlie and I dropped The White Vault at season something #but Graham is sexier!!! (In reference to Tim Stoker)

#Look from the allos I know. The people voting have NOT heard TWV

#WHAT are these results #I understand that we're pitting the canonically sexiest men from each series against each other. But casner!!!! #Graham 'going to protect all of you if it kills me' Casner #Graham 'brooding in the corner but it's brooding like a mother hen' Casner #Come to think of it interesting that they both sort of kind of died the same way?? #Anyway pokemon go to the polls to vote for casner

#NOOOOOOO #VOTE FOR CASNER

#sorry tma followers. it's casner

#justice for Graham

#im sorry but have you people HEARD graham casner's voice #i think that might be the sexiest voice of every podcast ive ever listened to and that is. many #like i love tma and i love tim but this is specifically for sexiness and graham casner wins by a MILE. the injustice ...

#VOTE GRAHAM PLEASE GOD #i love tim so much but hes nothing put against Graham #im so sorry TMA girlies but i need you to listen to more than TMA #YOU SIMPLY DO NOT KNOW

With zero hesitation, it’s Graham. #sad strong Russian dad vibes #he’s such a gem

#Graham Casner #his voice is hot and he fought a giant arctic squid (and won???)

#i'm begging y'all listen to more than just tma #tim's voice isn't even that sexy compared to graham #graham got shit done #sorry tim #but i know you'd fuck graham too #AND YOU WOULDN'T SURVIVE

#it's graham casner #you're all wrong and i won't apologise

#rip casner I still love you

#graham might be the second sexiest character on the white vault #but he's still sexier than tim! #(dragana is objectively the sexiest white vault character)

anarchoanarchist420: GRAHAM CASNER SWEEP PLEASEEEEEE microwavebeeping: we can’t be mutuals anymore 😔 anarchoanarchist420: its okay to be wrong <3 Graham “Oh God What Is That” Casner is the most universally sexy man to ever be cursed by capitalism to die via eldrich horror microwavebeeping: Sorry! I can’t hear you over the sound of exploding mannequins :3

Mab (Monstrous Agonies):

#mab has my heart #but not my name

#okay this is MEAN #i love jonathan harker with my whole heart #but mab is SO memorable and has such an impact despite only rarely appearing 'onstage'

#obviously i voted for mab out of loyalty <3

#vote Mab!

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

[coffeefromvoid]

Late night rambling/Acting/Mercutio specific hot? Lukewarm? Take, i dunno I’ve only been acting for like three years

Basically a few weeks ago I came to the realisation that when you are acting it’s useful to know a character’s greatest fear. Of course you need to know more than that to make a character come alive on stage- who they are, their motivations, their personality or the bits of it that shine through in the script and their narrative purpose.

But I also find a characters greatest fear to be important too, especially for heightened emotional moments.

For example my three biggest roles so far,

1. Franz von Moor (in a summarised version of Shiller’s “die Räuber”)

2. Paolo (in a stage adaptation of Michael Ende’s novel “Momo”)

And last and certainly not least,

3. Mercutio (shortend and modified version of the german translation of Romeo and Juliet, by Shakespeare)

These three roles are very different from each other and all have different fears, which play into their portrayal on stage. None of the fears are out right stated, it’s just my interpretation, to better play the character.

But why is a characters fear important if you aren’t playing a scene where the character is specifically afraid?

Well, to me, my fears personally do affect how i carry myself. Some days more some days less, so having a characters fear in the back of your mind can be useful for when they are doing a monologue for example, or doing an important action, or just making them appear more human

For example, when i was playing Franz, his greatest fear to me, was being alone and having nothing left as he wasn’t the main hair, leading him to doing all of those horrible actions that result in him killing himself after asking god for forgiveness. Not an excuse for his shit behaviour but a helpful guide for his characterisation.

Or Paolo who was just a kid and wanted his parents to spend time with him and who was afraid of change and everything the gray men represent. After the time skip and the kids omission into the new strict school, he becomes hopeless, robotic and depressed. Because his greatest fear came true.

And finally Mercutio who’s, in my opinion, greatest fear is death. This only shines through in the text in two places, the infamous Queen Mab speech and his final monologue before he dies.

The Queen Mab speech starts of whimsical and fun as Mercutio describes Mab and her carriage and so on and so forth, but after a while it turns darker, when he starts talking about the dark dreams that are about war and subsequent, death, that she puts in soldiers heads. This is, to me, the point where the Queen Mab speech turns cynical and basically opposite of what it was at the beginning.

And the second moment where his primal fear of death shows is obviously his death-monologue. Mercutio has, not a facade but a heightened, more dramatic version of his personality he puts on as a mask, to hide this ‘silly’ fear of death. Why would a great man like him fear such a thing? Right? This mask starts to falter when he realises he’s fucking dying, for real. But in never truly drops, as he is still making jokes until his last breath, to try and distract himself of his fate or perhaps convince himself it isn’t happening at all, while clinging on to the person he made himself to be.

I’m not saying that Mercutio making a pun in his death-monologue is out of character, no, it just shows me, that he did not digest what had happened to him before it was too late. If that makes sense.

And of course you cannot forget his very memorable and dramatic anger at both houses in this speech. He doesn’t just blame one person or house for his unexpected demise but he blames both Tybalt and Romeo. This is him expressing this anger he had in him, not just at his death but at everything around him making him feel like he had to put up this heightened image of himself. He is basically speed running the five stages of grief for himself but died before he could get to acceptance.

Mercutio’s fear of death also explains his recklessness to me, he sneaks Romeo and Benvolio into the Capulet ball without even thinking of the consequences, insults the nurse with no after thought and challenges Tybalt to the dual without considering that Romeo might come between them because of his previous yapping about loving the Capulet name like his own, even though no one knew about his marriage to Juliet.

Mercutio basically lives every day like it would be his last but isn’t actually ready to die tomorrow.

Hope this long ass post was worth the read, i’ve been thinking ab Mercutio non stop and its one am rn and i should sleep but i can’t so boom character analysis plus minor acting advice, Also sorry if the grammar is garbage, its as stated one am, and english isn’t my first language.