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#nghariad
yoshimitsubignaturals · 4 months
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WHERE IS IT
WHERES LUCHTBALLON 🔫
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teatitty · 6 months
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CELTIC BARD DANDELION! FJGHSDKJSAGHLKJAVNJ YESSSS
LISTEN FIRST OF ALL I'M RIGHT ABOUT IT BC CELTIC BARDS WERE HISTORIANS AND COMPOSERS AND WROTE PROSE AND POEMS AND WERE HIRED BY PATRONS TO DOCUMENT THEIR FAMILY LINEAGE OR SING THEIR PRAISES AND THAT IS LITERALLY WHAT DANDELION DOES IN THE BOOKS! HE'S A PERFECT FIT FOR IT!
Anyway what I'm saying is Dandelion singing in Welsh and Irish you're welcome
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nonenglishsongs · 7 months
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Folksy Friday | 4 Yn Y Bar - Dacw 'Nghariad I Lawr Yn Y Berllan (Welsh)
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strawbostat · 1 year
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...huh?
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Nicky Wire photographed by Kevin Cummins
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misericorsalvator · 2 years
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@ventrue-in-control​
Fy gnghariad i ami ntoxicatde
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floridiansavant · 1 month
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Hello my dear are you feeling okay? 😥 Do you need me to come over? 😓😓😥😥 (- @pormalusername)
please. please do.
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ace-malarky · 6 months
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Bryn's come up for one of the next prompts and I'm seconds away from making the dragon touched Vaguely Welsh but also I think that may break me actually
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nullsd · 1 year
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Sniffs you
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bimoonphases · 2 months
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@wolfstarmicrofic July 17 - prompt 17: Slice of Life [word count 614]
For once, the house was silent in the early hours of the morning. Remus sighed contentedly, as Sirius passed a hand in his hair, pulling the blanket almost over their heads against the sun rising outside and the birds singing.
“I think they’re finally sleeping in a bit,” Remus smiled.
“It’s about time,” Sirius chuckled. “We haven’t had a lie-in in five years I think.”
“We need to have a look at everything for Anwell’s birthday party today,” Remus yawned. “You know Mary and Harry both asked to help set up.”
“No no no no,” Sirius’s arms closed around him. “That’s after-breakfast talk, Moony. None of that now.”
“Alright. What do you want to talk about?” Remus’s fingers were playing with a strand of Sirius’s hair.
“Who said we need to talk?”
The kiss was slow, and Remus felt Sirius smile in it.
“After all those years I never thought I could still be this happy,” he sighed.
“You deserve it,” Remus pulled him closer. “We all do.”
They were still smiling between kisses when a noise down the corridor made Remus turn his head.
“I think someone woke up,” he said, propping himself up in bed.
“Are those cries?” Sirius sat up by his side.
But the house was silent again, and they stayed still for a moment, each trying to hear more, until the bedroom door was pushed open, revealing a little boy of almost five, his face scrunched up in worry, holding at the best of his short arms’ ability a baby silently sobbing.
“Anwell!” Remus exclaimed. “What happened?”
“I think Estelle had a nightmare,” Anwell said. “I tried to tell her a story but I think she needs Papa.”
Sirius had already jumped out of bed, kneeling by their son’s side.
“It’s alright, give her to me,” he carefully took the baby in his arms. “It’s alright, ma petite étoile, Papa’s here. You’re alright. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Remus’s heart ached as he saw the tiny hands close on Sirius’s pyjamas. They had adopted Anwell as a newborn when he had been abandoned at St Mungo’s but Estelle had been three months old when Mary had called them to ask if they would be ready to grow their family and especially to adopt a little girl who had been taken away from an abusive family. They had both ran to St Mungo’s immediately, finding Mary with a traumatised baby in her arms, unable to calm her down. The second Sirius had taken her in his arms, she had nestled against his chest and stopped crying. And months later, it was still the same. She was a very happy baby, at ease with both her dads and her big brother, but she still woke up crying at night and in those occasions only Sirius was able to calm her down. Once, when she had fallen back asleep, Sirius had joked that she might recognise in him someone who had survived a horrible family, and Remus had ended up holding a crying Sirius in his arms.
“Why didn’t you call us?” he asked Anwell now.
“Yesterday you said you were tired, Daddy,” Anwell said. “I wanted you to sleep.”
Remus felt his heart swell and he extended his arm towards his son.
“Come here, fy nghariad,” he smiled.
The little boy almost ran up to him, climbing on the bed and settling by his side. Sirius sat back down on the bed as well, delicately wiping away the tears from Estelle’s little face as the baby tried to catch his finger in her tiny hands. He smiled at Remus.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “We deserve to be this happy.”
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acc--deactivated · 10 months
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𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨
„Sweet cunt and a sharp tongue, you're a dangerous combo, love.“
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featuring: edward kenway
cw: praise, vaginal sex, semi-public i guess
synopsis: owning a tavern in havana means being used to pirates in your every day life, their crude words and behaviour. but you've never met a pirate going this far in attempt to apologize for a crewmate's bad actions.
note: „fy nghariad“ is a welsh phrase meaning „my love“ or „my sweetheart“ which i thought would be nice to include, but please tell me if i used it incorrectly, that would be kinda embarassing lol
18+ content - MDNI
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Havana is always warm, always welcoming and soft, with sunlight flooding through streets of beige and gold, full of laughter and peaceful existence.
Even at night, it feels like the warmth wraps around people like a soft coat, summer air resting between the buildings and mingling with the scent of the sea, darkness enlightened by warm lanterns and candles. The sound of joyful music, shanties and drunken laughter has become the soundtrack of your nights as bartender in the tavern and restaurant which are owned by your father, and you like to say that Havana is a place of joy, no matter the time of day.
You've done this job since your teenage years, are used to bar fights and lusting gazes resting on you, know how to handle men who try to let their hands wander, think they can whistle at you or spit out crude and naughty things.
Most of them know that it will only get them a ban from the house, or in worst case, a beating from your main visitors or an arrest by the guards, but sometimes, there still are idiots who try it, out of pure stupidity and falsely placed ego.
Citizens of Havana adore your tavern as a centre of the city, they know how to behave and have their fun in peace, but the pirates docking on the shore are a different story.
You can see it in their gazes, in the way they talk, the way they stride through the streets like they own them and the houses forming them, that they're looking for provocation, hungry for a fight.
Thankfully, most of them are more of an inconvience and not an actual threat, and you know how to handle them, know that a tavern is a pirate's favourite place, which gives you a slight advantage against them, even if it's just out of their sympathy for the rum you pour them.
It doesn't diminish your dislike for them, despite them being your costumers.
Pirates are a disease, you've always been told. And yet, you can't help but feel a thrill in your veins, feel your heart leap and your legs trembling when a strong hand grabs your chin from behind, gently, sensually lifts your head.
The soft light filling the dim walls of the empty, closed tavern flickers in your vision, soft tears of passion melting it to a blur along with the dark of the late night and a breathed, blissful sigh leaves your lips, forced out of you by the way the body of the man behind you rocks once more against you.
Pirates are the worst of the worst, you learned early in your life. And Edward Kenway is so good at being a pirate, at getting what he wants, that he might be something even worse, armed with those mischievous eyes, his charming smirk and skilled fingers.
You did not question the leathern bracers wrapped around his lower arms, the hidden blades you saw shimmering in the dim light when you served him and his men, and you didn't question the hooded robe hanging over the back of his chair, could only focus on the white lace-up shirt on his body, the cleavage that slightly revealed the tattoos spreading over his chest.
It was no surprise and nothing new when one of his men hit on you, spitting rude words from a drunk tongue in an attempt to seduce you. What did surprise you was how fast Adéwalé grabbed him by the scruff like a puppy to kick him out of the tavern, and the way Edward apologized to you, genuinely and gentle.
Most men did not act like this when they came to drink in your tavern, only laughed when their comrades harrassed a girl. It did not fit your world view, disturbed the evil picture you carried of pirates all these years of your life.
You couldn't help but smile at the way Edward looked at you, a mixture of apologetic and enthrilled, felt your breath hitch when he asked you what he could offer to beg your forgiveness.
The way his hands are now roaming your body, his husked breaths against your ear and his body pressed against yours is not what you had in mind at first, but you'll gladly take it as a form of apology.
He lets out a groan as he fills you, slides into you like you are made for him, slicked walls hugging his cock, clenching around his girth.
He fills you just right, hits spots you have never felt, makes you see stars despite the roof above both of your heads.
„What do you say, sweetheart? Think this'll make up for the inconvience?“ he husks against your ear, sends a new shiver down your spine that ends up right inside the heat pooling in your lower stomach, and you lightly lean your head back, feel the stubble of his beard brushing your ear.
Just when you're about to answer, he hits you with another thrust from behind, knocks the air out of you with the sheer depth of his movements.
You need a second to catch your breath, collect yourself, before a little smirk spreads on your lips.
„Thought a world-class-pirate would have more to offer“, you respond, with a low, seducing voice, a tone that lures him in, makes his breath hitch lightly, bearly hearable if he wasn't so close to your ear.
He's so close even that you think you can feel the way an amused smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and you shudder again when his breath fans your cheek.
„Sly little thing, aren't ya?“
Before you can answer in an even brattier tone than before, you feel how he slightly pushes you down, makes you lean further forward until you're forced to hold onto the bar, driven further and further into the wood by his harsh thrusts.
He quickens his pace, makes you whine and moan with the way he fills you, tip kissing your womb, his slight curve brushing your sweet spots just right.
„Sweet cunt and a sharp tongue, you're a dangerous combo, love.“
His words and the deep tone of his voice only make you arch more in his grasp, make you hold onto the bar with one hand, while the other carries your balance on its wooden surface.
You feel your own arousal run down your thighs, feel yourself getting higher and higher on the wet sounds echoing through the room whenever he enters your aching cunt, your brain spinning around mixed feelings of confusion and arousal.
He's a pirate, a well wanted one as well, and yet you can not help but love the way he grabs you, the way he fucks you, the way he makes you feel.
When he leans over your back, one hand placed next to your body, the other one on your hip to hold you steady, you somehow forget how much his head is worth, how dangerous his hands should feel on your body.
It feels strange, but a spark of sympathy arises within you when he leans in further, buries you in his shadow as he pushes a soft kiss against the back of your neck, drowns you in the illusion of intimacy when he gently closes his teeth around the shell of your ear.
Edward doesn't seem like other pirates, doesn't initiate fights he can not win, doesn't harrass others, doesn't cause unnecessary ruckus to prove his ego. He smells better than most of them, covered in the scent of the sea, of salt and a hint of rum, but with an underlying note of herbs, probably because of salves that are used to treat wounds lingering his body.
And above all, he looks so handsome, a dark angel within a bunch of dirty, fattened and drunk pigs, his cheeky smirk more intoxicating than alcohol or money.
A smirk that is directed at you, resting on you as he observes you, watches you writher and shake beneath his movements. When you catch it from the corner of your eye, it fuels new fire inside of you, and your lips curl sweet and mischievously when you slightly raise your head to respond.
„Maybe you shouldn't provoke my sharp tongue too much then, captain.“
The word does something to him, you can feel it, notice the way he gasps for a second, slows his thrusts for the shortest bit. Then he suddenly slips out of you, both hands grabbing your hips and pulling you up, your back straightening for the shortest second before he turns you around, pulls you in by the waist and leans forward to push his lips against yours, catching you in a heated kiss that steals your breath, makes your knees weak.
You bury your right hand in his blonde hair, hold him close, while your other hand rests on the textile of his shirt, trying to hold onto soft linen while you sigh and feel your legs tremble.
As if he's feeling it, he lightly bends his knees, slides his hands from your hips to the back of your thighs to pick you up, makes you wrap your legs around his waist while your hands cradle his face and you sink further into his kiss, melt against his lips. You hear the rustling of clothes, feel how he picks up your discarded dress from the edge of the bar and spreads it on the counter, adjusting the textile before he sets you down on the wood, just to break from your mouth a few seconds later.
He smirks at your little gasp, licks his lower lip before raising his voice.
„Captain, huh? That a hidden request to join my crew?“
You gasp when you feel his fingers dig into the softness of your thighs, need a second to collect yourself before you scoff at his words, look at him through a glimmer of competition before you breathe out an „In your dreams, pirate.“
He only grins at that, eyes slightly narrowing as they slide down to his hands on your thighs, watches them when he spreads your legs to get new access to your leaking centre, his eyes staring shamelessly at it.
And just when you think to finally have the air to add another snarky comment, he suddenly thrusts back into you, one switft motion with which he fills you to the brim, makes you throw your head back as he falls back into a relentless rhythm, his cock slicking in and out of your warm wetness.
He leans over you again, holding you by the waist as he pounds into you, forcing high pitched moans and whimpers out of your throat that you simply can not hold back.
His thrusts feel so deep, hit you so perfectly and when he grabs one of your legs to raise it to his shoulder, you almost choke on the air in your throat, bliss filling you at the pleasure washing through you by his deepening movements.
You curse out an „Oh god-“ as you throw your head back, hear a breathed laugh from Edward when he grabs you by the hips again, adjusts your body on the textile of your dress, pulls you in to take his hard thrusts.
Another whimper leaves you as he partially folds you in half, sass and mockery leaving your body with each new thrust, slowly melting in the heat of a building orgasm within your body.
It doesn't help how he reaches out with his hand to search for your clit, forcing a loud moan from your throat when his finger presses against it.
„That it, darling? That the spot?“
Through your panting and heavy breathing, the dizziness in your vision, you see how he smirks at you, pure confidence written in his attractive features and you can only nod, breathe out a „Please-“, a word that only makes his smile widen.
Your lower body tenses, a coil clenching deep within your core, tight enough that it almost hurts.
„Don't hold back. Let me feel you come, fy nghariad.“
His voice slightly falters, breathless because of his own arousal, the tension with which he holds himself back, and his words only add fuel to the fire in your body, make the flames lap higher, reaching your chest, making your heart race.
Whimpers and gasps leave your throat, you tense, feel your thighs shiver, your entire body short-circuiting until eventually, you feel yourself breaking apart, tension and arousal reaching their peak, knocking you into an abyss of white noise, making you cry out in pleasure, your head falling back as arousal floods your veins.
His thrusts never waver, seem to get even harder, fucking you through your orgasm, almost making you pass out with the sheer overstimulation. Your brain turns to mush, simply melts away and when you look up at him, with tear-filled, flickering eyes and your tongue slightly peaking over your lower lip, he takes in a sharp, hissing breath, slipping dangerously close to an orgasm just by your gaze and your walls spasming, clenching and relaxing around him.
His hand trembles a little as he trails it further up your body, fondling your chest for a second and making you whine out at the soft feeling, before his fingers graze your neck, eventually rest on your cheek.
He spreads his thumb, runs it over the corner of your mouth, doesn't expect the way you push out your tongue to taste salt, gunpowder and rum on his skin. Not a second later, you allow his finger to slip into your mouth, relish in the way he draws a sharp breath when you lazily swirl your tongue around it.
The facade in front of his face cracks the slightest bit, and you see how he bites his lower lip, how his brows furrow a little in what seems to be despair, before he breathes out a „Shit, you're gonna make me cum, sweetheart.“
It's the cue you need and while you whine, shudder beneath each of his thrusts, you at some point slightly bite down into his finger, hard enough to make him jolt, hard enough to break his facade.
He gasps for air, lets out short „Fuck-“, before he holds onto your hip, digging the fingers of his free hand into the skin when he forces himself to pull out, holding you in place as warm, white seed spurts over the skin of your abdomen.
For a few moments, you only look at each other, breathe into the space between both of you, wallowing in the heat of each other's body. Your head is still spinning when Edward slightly leans forward, gently rests his forehead against yours before he lets out a heavy breath.
His eyes are dark and dominant when they dig into yours, captivate you with the slight glimmer within them.
„Aren't you just something else... Maybe I'll pick you up and simply take you with me. Wanna know what else that sweet mouth of yours can do.“
It doesn't matter what you learned your entire life, his words make you giddy and thoughtless, make your heart leap in joy and your lips curl to a smile.
„Careful, Kenway. My lips may seem sweet, but they come with a pair of teeth.“
He lets out a little groan, a sound of playful despair and frustration, before he leans further against your forehead, gently nudges his nose against yours.
„Fucking heavens, you're perfect.“
You smile when he kisses you, wrap your arms around him and become a mess of sweet nothingness beneath his hands when they start roaming your body again, not taking long until you throw your head back once more, sending sighed versions of his name into the warm night.
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James looks at Regulus' beautiful sunlit face. The sun is rising, and birds are chirping. It's the best day ever.
James resists the urge to kiss down Regulus' body until he wakes up. Instead, he gets dressed and shuts Regulus' door behind him.
James hears a door open at the other end of the hall. He turns toward the sound slowly and sees one of his best friends. He lets out a breath. It's not Sirius. Thank god.
James thinks for a minute.
That's Sirius' room.
Remus just came out of Sirius' room.
James laughs quietly. "I knew it." He whispers. "I fucking knew it."
"Shut up, James." Remus says, stalking over to him.
James smiles. "I knew it."
"What are you doing here?"
"Everyone already knows. It's obvious."
"Sirius doesn't."
Another door opens. Alice? James smiles in victory. "Knew it."
James and Marlene talk every week and when they start to get suspicious of someone, they take guesses to who their shagging.
Apparently, so far, James has got them right. Alice and Narcissa, Remus and Sirius, Mary and Lily, and even Dorcas and Marlene. He couldn't believe he got that one.
"You knew what?" Alice asks.
"I knew that you were shagging Cissa."
Alice rolls her eyes and walks over to them. "You're both standing in front of Regulus' door. I'm assuming James is the one shagging him and Remus is shagging Sirius." James eyes go wide. "It's obvious."
"Fair enough." Another door opens, and out comes Emmeline Vance, a Ravenclaw. "Emmeline Vance. Nice to see you." Emmeline turns around so fast that James thought she had to have had whiplash. "Pandora? Really?"
Emmeline Smirks. "No, don't even start that sentence." Remus says, holding his hand up to stop her.
They hear footsteps around the corner, and before they could hide, Ted comes into view. "My god." Emmeline says. "Andromeda. Definitely."
"Yeah, definitely." James replies, agreeing with her.
"My god. I thought you were Orion and Walburga." Ted says startled.
"Good for you, we're not." Alice says. She pauses. "Good for us too."
"What are you all doing here?" A voice asks. Rita.
"No way!" Emmeline shouts.
"Shut up." James says.
"Sorry."
"Bellatrix. You're shagging Bella." James smiles. "Marls owes me so much gallons."
"Can we not?" Another voice sounds. Barty.
"I'm even more rich." James says proudly.
"How good are you at guessing?" Alice asks.
"Pretty good, actually. I even guessed Marls and Cas."
"Damn." Barty says, surprised.
Multiple doors open, and Evan, Pandora, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda come out in the hallway. "What is going on?" Bellatrix asks.
Pandora smiles. "Panda? What are you smiling about?" Her brother, Evan, asks.
"Nothing."
James purses his lips. "Yeah, I'm gonna go before Siri comes out. Right Al?"
"Yep, coming."
Narcissa grabs Alice' arm. "Not so fast. We're going back in. Yeah?"
While Alice is debating, James hears another door open but doesn't see which one. "Mon soleil?" Regulus asks. "Holy shit."
James turns around and sees his boyfriend. "Hey, mi estrella."
"What is going on?"
Barty smiles. "Sirius is about to come out any minute."
Sure enough, Sirius comes out of his room. "Mon crossiant de lune?" Sirius looks around. "Alice!? James!?"
Alice purses her lips. "I'll take you up on that offer now." She says to her girlfriend, and they go back in Narcissa' room.
"What the fuck?"
Remus walks over to Sirius and starts pushing him slowly back in his room. "Let's go back in, fy nghariad."
Sirius grumbles, turns around to go back in, and stops. "We will talk about this later, Prongs." They go back in.
"So, that happened." Pandora says.
"I say we do the same and go back in our rooms, yeah?" Emmeline says.
They all agree and go back in. "Come on, mon soleil." Regulus says.
"I should really go."
Regulus starts kissing up James' jaw line. He stops. "Are you sure?"
James grumbles and drags his boyfriend back in the room.
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quidam-sirenae · 8 months
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Favorite words: welsh edition
1. Caer- fortress- the first word you learn always has a special place in your heart. This was my first word in welsh.
2. Iawn-very- it palatalizes the word in front of it which is so fun. Da iawn is so fun to say. Fawr iawn. Hir iawn. Stormus iawn. Gwen iawn. You can’t go wrong.
3. Pili pala-butterfly- guys this is so cute it’s like butter fly. Yr pili pala? A butter fly? Wonderful. I did some research this word is probably a Latin borrowing.
4. Llyfrgell-library- this is so fun to say thats it.
5. Nghariad- lover, nasally mutated- this is the most wonderful word for a significant other it’s got everything. Possessive mutation. Comes from caru which is already one of my favorite words since it’s devoid from the Latin and Greek expectations of love words. Peredurs love is named the derivation of this in the mabinogi. It sounds fun. 10/10
6. Wledic- lord- this just comes up a lot in Middle Welsh texts. And I like it it sounds like lord so it’s easy for me to recognize and it also shows up as a descriptor in the triads and that’s fun.
7. Cerddoriath-music- find a prettier word for music I dare you. You can’t.
8. Pederfynu- decide- dude this one just shows up in o mi awn mi am dro by fleur de llys and I like that song a lot.
9. Cofia- remember- mostly this one has beautiful mutations. I love nghofia. Beautiful. Gofia? Graceful and wonderful. Chofia? She is my wife.
10. Goch- red, softly mutated- i am an anomaly in that i think the ch sound is so very very pretty. Also i like the way the coch verse sounds in cyfrif’r geifr.
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bam-stroker · 1 year
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Dacw 'Nghariad
I shared it in the discord, but here is some Misuta/Fool from @venomous-qwille's Ghost in the Machine story.
The song this was inspired by is MEREDYDD EVANS - DACW 'NGHARIAD. Here are the lyrics translated as well to see.
Y'all are getting my combo love of folk music, sun and moon robots in love, and romance :')
A gentle breeze sighs through the greenery at the edge of the garden. The smell of a spring rain heavy in the air from a storm that had blown through last night. In the creeping early hours of the dawn the world is lush and twinkling with morning dew and lingering rainwater collected in flowers and leaves. The sky slowly illuminating the skyline in pale purples. 
With a sweeping gesture Fool drapes himself over the ledge where the garden ends. A spot he had sat in many times now. It surely had the loveliest view of the whole estate. At least when the timing was right.
Tossing back his cape to free his shoulder he lifts his guitar into position - facing his body towards the house. The third floor window open and waiting. He smiles bright to himself. A surge of fond excitement skittering through his wires at the sight. 
Softly plucking the strings he begins to play a tune that seemed to sing louder and louder through his mind these days. A lilting lullaby of a love song. 
Dacw 'nghariad i lawr yn y berllan,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
His eyes stay steady on the open window. Voice as soft as a prayer for only his intended audience to hear. Welsh tumbling along like a babbling brook to call his beauty to sit and listen. Beckoning his sweet morning birdsong for the moon above. 
Dacw’r dderwen wych ganghennog,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
Golwg arni sydd dra serchog.
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
Mi arhosaf yn ei chysgod
Nes daw 'nghariad i 'ngyfarfod.
From the darkness his prayer is answered by the pale glow of pink pupils. By far the loveliest shade in all the garden. The flowers can only droop in shame at the unparalleled beauty looking down. Electric blue and ocean green features more lovely than the mottled dawn. But most lovely of all is the bemused smile on Misuta’s lips. Fool would do whatever it took to see that smile the other had saved just for him. 
Dacw'r delyn, dacw'r tannau;
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
Beth wyf gwell, heb neb i'w chwarae?
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
Leaning on the windowsill, Misuta rests his chin on a hand as he listens to his Fool’s serenade. An indulgence he would gladly languish in for as long as the other would go on for. Fluttering affection coursing through him as if Fool’s fingers were plucking along in his heart. Silk ruffles of his sleeves blowing in the breeze like falling flower petals.
Dacw'r feinwen hoenus fanwl;
Beth wyf well heb gael ei meddwl?
Ffaldi radl didl dal, ffaldi radl didl dal,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal 
The final note is held out as Fool locks eyes with Misuta. A nearby leaf collapsing to cascade shimmering drops of rain down to the earth. The world silent with baited breath to see what might come next. Fool sets his guitar aside to stand. Gallantly posturing himself to reach up towards the lunar bot. As if he might just begin reciting Romeo’s lovesick words to Juliet on the balcony.
He smiles wide, eyes crescents as he tenderly calls up, “Goodmorning, Cariad.”
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Photos of JDB both called "jdbhot.jpg" in my files
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Asking you because apparently you are the go-to person for all things Welsh in my bubble... Can you recommend any Welsh folk / folk revival music bands to listen to? Is there any Welsh equivalent of the Dubliners? Thank you ☺️
Um, yes, there's a few - the immediate ones that spring to mind:
Fernhill. Really good trad folk, they're a Welsh-Breton band so they sing in Welsh, French and occasionally English (I don't think they've ever sung in Breton? I wouldn't be surprised if they had a track somewhere, though). They're the most traditional in their instruments - in addition to the triple harp, they also use a pibgorn, which is an old Welsh horn that's a member of the bagpipe family and has a fascinating sound to it. It's the instrument that plays the repeating riff in the song Llatai, which is also a banger (and contrasts nicely with Ffarwel i Aberystwyth, which is a fantastic "soulful mournful tale of grief" type of folk song). They're quite trad in subject matter too.
Gwibdaith Hen Fran. More modern folk, a bit of a rockier sound. They really exemplify the 'fun silly nonsense in a pub' side of folk, a very joyful band. Most famous for Trons Dy Dad (Your Dad's Underpants), but I'd also recommend Coffi Du for pure joy, and Tanygrisiau for a more traditional and musical offering.
Brigyn. Kind of electronica meets folk? A more gentle and mellow sound to these guys. Os Na Wnei Di Adael Nawr is pretty good for giving an overview of their sound. They also have one (I think it's called Ar Ddiwedd y Dydd) that sounds uncannily like the Ewoks singing in Return of the Jedi.
There's also Calan, they've got some good stuff. I think Gwilym Bowen Rhys has been branching into folk in his solo stuff. Eve Goodman, maybe? Her cover of Dacw 'Nghariad is great. Pedwar yn y Bar are great for pub folk as well. Oh, and Max Boyce did excellent working class, often political, usually comedy folk back in the 70s.
(There are also others but tbh I know dick all about music beyond "That sounds nice" *add to playlist*)
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