I love how the Celtic Mythology TV Tropes page went from "Relatively accurate (after I worked hard to revise it)" to "Filled with disinformation thanks to a couple of overly active users + cracks about the pronunciation system (that aren't even accurate)"
...they were saying that "Bres" should be pronounced "Bresh."
...There is a reason why "Bres" is spelled "Breas" in modern Irish -- that is a BROAD "es", not a palatal, the palatal "s" sound "sh" does NOT apply.
It's. It's "Brigit." The name. "Brigit." She is usually called. "Brigit." In pretty much all medieval sources. Or "Bríg." Neither of which. Is...
He. He isn't confused with Eber Donn. He IS Eber Donn. Where are you getting this stuff? Where is he the son of the Dagda? Were you actually high when you wrote this?
Is the Dagda. Kind. Is he really? Or is that a headcanon to fit a specific image. Of the Dagda? (Who, in at least one story, requires multiple TWs for what he allows one of his sons to do?)
We have literally as much evidence for Tethra and Manannán being boyfriends as we have for them being on opposite ends of the war, aka none. Assuming that they're on opposite ends of the war assumes that Manannán gives a single flying fuck about the war in the first place.
Nodens is put alongside the Tuatha Dé.
Is Danu. Any of these things. Is she? (This is after I had to remove a reference to Peter Beresford Ellis' bogus "creation myth.") The previous entry discussed her ambiguity as a figure/the very real possiblity that she was never WORSHIPPED as a deity.
Not shown: The entry on Cernunnos, which said he was worshipped in IRELAND.
The entry for Branwen, that claims that she's a Welsh love goddess (?) (There is not much love in her story.) (I would not even say there is much lust.)
"Because he is a cunt."
(Is he unique? Is he really? Because there are a LOT of hot Fomoire when you think about it.) (Also...where is Elatha's sense of humor? It is non-existent.)
Really. Is that why Conchobar does it? Is that really why he does it?
Unless it is not out of character (otherwise there are a LOT of Out Of Character Conchobars) so much as a different writer (likely from Connacht) having a different take on a complex character with a complex legacy. (Who is established in the Táin as being pretty useless, tbh.) (Like, where are these "in character" Conchobars that you speak of?)
...that. Is not. How you pronounce "Fionn" with that spelling. (It's "fee-on.")
Is that what happened? I just, I just don't remember. My memory of Cath Maige Tuired is so weak that the bit where the TDD elected Bres for his beauty slipped my mind. Could anyone pull up that bit for me? Along with the bit where he helped the Fomoire invade Ireland while he was king? I just, I don't know, I'm new to this, and the language is so arcane, so obscure, I just don't remember it.
21 notes
·
View notes
Fluff sentence starters :D “You have something in your hair - let me get it for you.”
There were fringe benefits to being friends with people in the theatre program, Xaja mused – like being invited along on field trips to see plays, and easily filling her volunteer hour requirements during production week. But there was a definite downside as well – and that was the day the main production's set came down after the last performance.
It was fine, she decided inwardly. It wasn't like she had two research papers and a personal reflection paper due in the next couple of days and didn't have time to be taking apart a set, right? She grunted as she crawled behind one of the main set walls, power drill in hand, and desperately hoping there were no spiders back here.
"Having fun yet?" The cast hadn't been spared the set strike chores either – but Arcann was entirely too cheerful a mood for someone who'd gotten bonked upside the head by a wardrobe rack fifteen minutes ago. He appeared to be on the same task as Xaja in taking apart the walls of the set.
"Oh, tons," Xaja responded, looking around for another screw in the bracket holding the set together. "How's the concussion?"
"Bah, I'm fine. Don't stand up." Arcann reached over, and Xaja heard the whirring of his own drill over her head. She sneezed as sawdust started to drift down in front of her eyes.
"Sorry," Arcann apologized. The drill stopped, and he fumbled with his prosthetic left hand with the screw before pocketing it. "Any more on that bracket down by you?"
"Yeah, two that I see." Xaja grunted as she shifted her weight, working to take apart the bracket. "Someone's on the other side of this, yeah?"
In response, Arcann peeked through the window built into the wall. "Hey, you might want to catch these walls," he called out, then waited a moment before nodding in satisfaction. "Yes, we're good. I think Professor Vowrawn recruited some help from outside the theatre department."
"Wonderful," Xaja grunted, inwardly wondering what the flamboyant theatre professor had done to lure in some more poor, unsuspecting souls. "Hopefully he brought 'em in from the sports teams."
Without looking up, she didn't see Arcann's mischievous grin. "They're warm bodies with muscles, they'll be fine," he said, then gave the wall a slight push. "Incoming!"
With a creak, the wall fell forward, caught by several pairs of hands. "Got it!" crowed a voice that immediately made Xaja's head jerk up. It was bad enough having a crush on the cute guy who lived across the dormitory hall from her, but if he saw her like this, in a grubby t-shirt and jeans, with dust all over her makeup-less face…
Dammit. That was Theron Shan, helping to carry the wall section away with Jonas and Koth's help. Maybe he hadn't seen Xaja in the chaos? But why did that prospect make her heart hurt just a little bit?
"You are about as subtle as an elephant," Arcann muttered, under the sound of Professor Vowrawn guiding the guys as to where he wanted the set wall placed; when Xaja glanced over, she could see him smirking, the gesture pulling at the scars over the left side of his face. "Liking checking him out?"
"I – what?" Xaja flushed as red as her hair. "I'm not checking Theron out!"
Arcann's grin widened. "I didn't say Theron…" he pointed out.
"... Fuck." Xaja groaned. "We're just friends, and I don't wanna wreck that." She glanced back over at Theron for a moment. "... Not my fault he's got a cute backside."
Arcann snorted a laugh, one that turned into a cough when Xaja glared at him. "Sorry, sorry… it's just hilarious to watch. I can put in a good word for you with him, if you want…"
"... I don't have a crush on him! And I don't need a wingman!" Xaja hissed. She firmly squashed the little voice in her head that wondered if Arcann's help might not be a bad idea. "He's not interested in me. If he was, he would have said something before now."
"... You two are perfect for each other," Arcann muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Xaja demanded, suspiciously glaring at him.
"Nothing!" Arcann coughed again, then looked over. "Next wall will be easy, should only take two of you to catch."
"I like easy!" Jonas' cheerful voice piped up. When Xaja looked over, she saw him, Theron, and Koth all standing close by, Professor Vowrawn tittering over another piece of the set being taken down.
"Yeah, we know that," Theron dryly commented – Jonas promptly glared at him as Koth and Arcann burst into laughter. The taller student then looked back at Xaja, and winked at her. "Made friends with any spiders back there yet?"
Trying to not feel self-conscious about how she looked, Xaja shook her head and grinned. "If I had, you would have heard the screaming from the dean's office."
Theron chuckled, then paused. "Hang on, you have something in your hair," he said, as the set wall to Xaja's right came down, carried off by Jonas and Koth. "Lemme get it for you." He reached forward; Xaja froze as she felt his fingers brush through her long red hair, knocking more sawdust free of the tangled strands. "There – I think that's the worst of it."
"... Thanks," Xaja murmured, feeling her cheeks go warm again at Theron's gentle touch. What she wouldn't give to feel his hand in her hair again, combing his fingers through the red locks, gripping her head and pulling it back for a kiss, like what she enjoyed reading in the Tumblr smut that Kira teased her about…
Theron grinned, then dropped his hand, looking unsure as to what to do with his arm. "Yeah, don't mention it. Figured you wouldn't wanna go around with sawdust in your hair and–"
"Aww, well wasn't that a sweet gesture!" Professor Vowrawn swooped in, beaming like a proud parent. "You two make such a lovely couple!"
"I–!" Xaja stammered, looking at Theron for a second (who appeared to be wide-eyed with panic), then back at Vowrawn. "We're not–!"
"She's not–!" Theron exclaimed in the same breath. "We're just friends!"
Vowrawn didn't seem convinced. "Oh? A pity. I shall still expect you both to audition for the leading man and lady for our next production – the chemistry you two have is what every production strives for! Now, you'll need to practice before that audition, make sure you're set in your–"
"Professor!" Theron squawked. "I'm not an actor! Xaja and I are just friends!"
Vowrawn grinned. "Nonsense, Mister Shan! You two are very good friends, I take it? Very… close to each other–?"
"Not like that!" Xaja yelped, wishing she could melt into the stage floor – or glare holes into the professor's head. She could feel the rest of the strike crew staring at her and Theron. "We're just… that would be weird!" But a good weird, she silently thought to herself.
"What she said!" Theron emphatically agreed. "Why mess up a perfectly good friendship like that?"
Tsking, Vowrawn shook his head. "Well, if you two are certain, then your next task is to clean out the green room. Chop chop!" He briskly clapped his hands, dismissing the two victims of his torment – Xaja willingly took the chance to escape with Theron. And if it meant time spent with him, without anyone teasing her about her crush on him, so much the better.
Neither she nor Theron saw Vowrawn sashay over to Arcann and tap his shoulder. "I have a bit of an extra task for you, Mister Tirall."
"Yes, Professor?" Arcann asked, looking over at the Pureblood professor curiously.
"An extra ten percent added to your overall grade for my class this semester if you can set those two idiots up somehow."
Arcann grinned. Academic credit for fulfilling what he (and the rest of the dorm) considered to be a necessity? "Done."
21 notes
·
View notes