#irish vessel

[ltwilliammowett]

The Irish Currach

The currach is a traditional Irish boat built from a light wooden frame covered with tarred leather or canvas. They were usually 4.80 to 5.50 m long and slightly less than 1 m wide. Depending on the purpose for which they were built and where they were built, they could be seaworthy with a keel and sail or flat as a river or coastal vessel. It is not known exactly when they first appeared on the coasts of Ireland, but they seem to have been around since the Neolithic period.

A modern Kerry currach 

Used for fishing or transport, they could also be used for other purposes. Pytheas of Massalia is said to have used one around 340 BC during his exploration of north-western Europe. Whether he actually did so is questionable, since his account of the voyage has been lost and other ancient authors like to portray him as a liar and label his observations as fictitious. Today's researchers, however, believe him to a large extent.

Pytheas on his voyage to Thule in 340 BC, by Stephen Biesty 2011

In chapter 4 of the Navigatio Sancti Brendani, the author describes how St Brendan and his monks built a curragh for the planned sea voyage in 565 and 573 AD across the open sea to the "Isle of the Blessed". The material is described in detail: resin-soaked ox hides tanned in oak tan for the covering, ash wood for the frames and oak wood for gunwale, oars, oars and mast, all made waterproof with (sheep) fat. Then a hull was constructed from longitudinal and transverse frames joined with leather strips, the skins pulled over them and sewn together with flax fibre threads. Oars, mast, leather straps (for the shrouds and sheets), leather sails, as well as spare skins, woods and grease completed the equipment.

Book illustration Manuscriptum translationis germanicae Cod. Pal. Germ. 60, fol. 179v (University Library  of Heidelberg, Germany), written around 1460 AD. St. Brendan in a currach.

A similarly constructed boat is described in the mythical tales Immram Curaig Maíle Dúin ("The Voyage of the Boat of Máel Dúin") from the 10th century and Immram Brain ("Bran's Voyage") from the 8th century. The currach survives to this day and caused quite a stir in the 17th century when an attempt was made to recreate a seagoing one. Captain Thomas Phillips, described and drew it as follows: "A portable vessel made of wicker, commonly used by the wild Irish". The ocean-going vessel is about 6m long, has a keel and rudder, a ribbed hull and a mast in the middle of the vessel. Because of the keel, the ship is built from the bottom up. A fairing (probably made of animal skins) was added, with the sides supported by poles in the gaps.

The mast is supported by stays and double shrouds on each side, the latter sloping down to an outer plank which serves as a chain stay. The forestay runs over a small fork above the yard, which carries a square sail: a branch is tied to the top of the mast. The stern is topped by double half-rings which could support a cover.

Captain Thomas Phillips - Currach, 17th century

Phillips' sketches suggest that such a vessel was by all means common in his time and probably in use earlier. The keel would improve the handling of the boat, but the hull would remain flexible.

A modern Donegal Sea Currach

Today's currachs are sturdy, light and versatile vessels. Their framework consists of a truss formed by frames and stringers and surmounted by a gunwale. There is a stem and stern post, but no keel. For this it is rowed but can also have a mast and sail, but with a minimum of rigging. The outside of the hull is covered with tarred canvas or calico, a substitute for animal skin. They are used for, recreation, fishing, ferries and for transporting goods and livestock, including sheep and cattle.  

[gncbozo]

I present to you my first vessel OC , The falconer.

Voltaire the falconer has been sitting in my basement for 3 months. And I still haven't written their lore.

[featherlouise]

OK HERE’S MOST OF THE MOTHFRIEND SHIT I HAVE

HIS NAME IS EÓGHAN BE KIND TO HIM

Also I am never drawing in that style again holy fuck I forgot how much I hate drawing lineless

Brief rundown of his backstory under the cut (bc it’s changed a fair amount)

(For context) The Order of the Old Flame (OOF) is a cult that originated from a small group of moths who left Hallownest when PK took over, they fled to a small village MILES away in a tundra, and over the course of a few thousand years, dug their claws into the very foundations of the kingdom that became of it.

Signs of their reverence of the Radiance are everywhere, but most notably architecture, which are emblazoned with suns and clouds and dream catchers (this will be important later)

SO

Eóghan’s mother grew up in OOF, and is the older sister of the Seer (the leader, aka the one who’s seen as the most ‘in touch’ with the Radiance (all moths possess some type of dream magic, some stronger than others))

She met his father, a man living outside of the city in a small cottage with his mother

Etc etc they fell in love, had Eóghan, all was right with the world

Until OOF finds them, they have spies everywhere after all. The Seer and some OOF members resolve to eradicate the traitor and the one who has poisoned her mind, setting the cottage on fire in the middle of the night, with all but the old woman inside (who is staying in the city overnight, having been held back and forced to book a hotel)

Before setting the house alight, the Seer finds Eóghan, barely a year old, and decides to “save” him, raising him as her own.

Years later, miles away, a vessel destroys the dream goddess in her own realm, and the very foundations of the kingdom shake with her screams. The death of a god is something that every living being can feel, even if it’s just through a pervasive feeling of wrongness.

A disillusioned Eóghan takes the commotion as an opportunity to escape, almost being stopped by a dagger to the hand from his aunt, who is one of the most effected by Radi’s death, barely able to stay on her feet.

Eóghan manages to escape out into the cold, but with only a thin shirt, trousers and leather boots to protect from the cold, coupled with a steadily bleeding knife wound, he’s not long outside of the city before he collapses.

CONVENIENTLY on the road where a certain old lady is going into the city to sell some goods from her farm.

Long story short bc this is getting long!!! Old lady nurses him back to health, and he repays her by helping her round her farm. Eóghan is a VERY angry boy after realising that not only was his entire life and belief system built on a lie, but his auntie, basically his MOTHER, cares more about her faith than her son, would rather try to kill him than let him leave, or goddess forbid go with him. SO. Old lady teaches him how to be a healthy, mostly emotionally stable person!!!

A few years later, she passes away, but not before telling Eóghan that she would be so proud to have him as a grandson. He never does find out the truth. But as far as he’s concerned?? That’s his nana, blood relative or not.

Even more years later!! (Reminder that they meet about 8 years after Holly nerfs the Radiance) Hollow is kidnapped by a combination of PHFTT (PK’s killers in case u forgot) and OOF, and they manage to escape by the skin of their teeth, being injured and draining their magic in the process (they’re not difficult to kill, per say, but there are a LOT of them, and killing people is kinda hard when ur tied up with a concussion)

Eóghan, seeing this VERY interesting looking person passed out in the snow, decides “AGH fuck it!!” And takes them in

Queue meet cute!!! (meet ugly?? I wouldn’t class waking up in a strangers house after a near death experience a meet cute)

[reasonandempathy]

Researchers have discovered that leaky blood vessels, together with a hyperactive immune system may be the underlying cause of brain fog in people with long covid. They suggest their discovery is important for the understanding of brain fog and cognitive decline – difficulty with thinking, memory or concentration – seen in some people with the condition. It is hoped the findings will help with the development of treatments in the future.

To Summarize:

Long Covid sufferers experience symptoms like forgetfulness and concentration issues due to leakiness in brain blood vessels, according to research findings.

Scientists from Trinity College Dublin and FutureNeuro confirm that Long Covid patients with brain fog have disrupted blood vessels in their brains, making the neurological symptoms measurable.

Blood vessel leakage in the brain, along with an overactive immune system, may be the key drivers of brain fog in Long Covid patients, leading to potential changes in understanding and treating post-viral conditions.

I can't find a single right-wing news source covering this.

[sexhaver]

in the late 2030s, noosphere analysts in the Unified Irish Republic made a breakthrough: by injecting the souls of people on their deathbeds with specific radioisotopes, they could filter through the greater noosphere for that marker to identify where the soul ended up. the first test subject's soul reappearing in the Mesozoic Era, in turn, led to the discovery that reincarnation is not only real but completely unbound by time or space: upon death, your consciousness is instantly transferred to some other vessel somewhere/when in spacetime at the moment it attains cognizance.

after further research, it was determined that 1. this jump is as close to random as modern nooscopes can measure and 2. the minimum threshold for "cognizance" is incredibly low. this means that most people will end up reincarnating as some kind of insect or vermin, with "human surviving to the age where they start becoming self-aware" being a vanishingly rare outcome. there was also an issue where something like 15% of test subjects ended up returning identical signatures indicating they had been reincarnated somewhere around Orion's Belt, but this was chalked up to a combination of interference from dark matter and insufficiently accurate tools.

this eventually led to the formation of a new religion asserting that there is only one individual "consciousness" in the universe, and that all beings that have ever existed or will ever exist (including you) are all simply different iterations of this one consciousness. the Great Schism of 2037 resulted in this religion fragmenting into two sects due to an argument over the existence of immortal or timeless beings: the larger faction (called "Wombists" due to their habit of referring to the universe as an egg or womb) held that true immortality was impossible in this realm and the endgame for the One True Consciousness (i.e. you) after living every life in the universe was to ascend to godhood; whereas the smaller faction (referred to by the history books as simply "Heretics" after their eradication for heresy) argued that there was exactly one (1) Truly Immortal Being and that the endgame of the One True Consciousness was to end up trapped in this body/life and eventually go mad with power.

in 2041, after the existence of dark matter was conclusively debunked, Cuban astral projectioneers managed to resolve the apparent discrepancy with the earlier Irish dataset: there was, in fact, a planet near Orion's Belt host to an incomprehensibly vast biomass. further expeditions revealed this life to be trillions upon trillions of silicon-based microscopic organisms that were effectively biologically immortal, with metabolic cycles operating on the timescale of stars. the implications of this prompted a second minor schism within the church, since the Wombist line of reasoning implied that 15% of all reincarnations were billion-year jail sentences in the body of an alien tardigrade.

at 1:07 PM GMT on July 27th, 2043, a Mexican observatory detected evidence of a massive eel-like entity emerging from the asteroid belt. it had yet to receive an official name before rendering the issue moot by consuming the Earth whole approximately 28 minutes later.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Ye Banished Privateers - Capstan Shanty 2020

A sea shanty, shanty, chantey, or chanty is a genre of traditional folk song that was once commonly sung as a work song to accompany rhythmical labor aboard large merchant sailing vessels. The term shanty most accurately refers to a specific style of work song belonging to this historical repertoire. However, in recent, popular usage, the scope of its definition is sometimes expanded to admit a wider range of repertoire and characteristics, or to refer to a "maritime work song" in general. Shanty songs functioned to synchronize and thereby optimize labor, in what had then become larger vessels having smaller crews and operating on stricter schedules. Such tasks, which usually required a coordinated group effort in either a pulling or pushing action, included weighing anchor and setting sail. The practice of singing shanties eventually became ubiquitous internationally and throughout the era of wind-driven packet and clipper ships. A capstan is a vertical-axled rotating machine developed for use on sailing ships to multiply the pulling force of sailors when hauling ropes, cables, and hawsers.

Ye Banished Privateers are a folk rock band from Umeå, Sweden. Their songs are inspired by traditional Irish and Scandinavian folk music and their lyrics are mostly based on sea and piracy history from the 17th and 18th century. During their shows they portray a crew of pirates, wearing historical clothes and acting while playing, making the show itself a mix of music and theatre.

"Capstan Shanty" received a total of 71,3% yes votes!

[mxrcusflint]

secret quiet relationship hangster our beloved

The Pacific never got old. Never could. The first time Jake saw the ocean was at the mouth of San Diego on a kayak behind his older sister. He was ten and hypnotized by the way light reflected off the surface of the water, how everything looked like molten metal. 

The front door was still sticky at the hinges, opening with a creak as Jake crept in. He avoided tripping on the skewed doormat. He should place the haphazardly thrown boots into a neater line below the bench, but it was late, and the shot of whiskey to round off the night had seeped into his bloodstream. 

He took great care to close the bathroom door quietly when he was done brushing his teeth, throwing his uniform into the hamper, but Bradley had always been a light sleeper.

“Took you long enough.”

Rooster earned his reputation by getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and making it everyone’s problem. Why he never bothered with ear plugs was a mystery, but Jake liked how Bradley usually awakened when he slid into bed.

Jake approached the edge of the bed. “When’d you leave?”

“‘Round ten,” Bradley grunted, as he brought himself closer. 

That was how Bradley worked at a party: a flash-bang firework which left everyone on a high. He would tug in a crowd with a loping smirk and perform an Irish-exit once he grew satisfied with the attention and the fun. 

“Should I be concerned about your welcome?” Jake chuckled. “Did I make you mad somewhere, sweetheart?”

Bradley didn’t protest. He held a grudge when it befit him, and Jake had dangled a challenge in front of his nose, fully expecting the worst. Whatever it was stewing in Bradley’s brain would come out in bits and pieces, but Rooster seemed more than happy to place his forehead against the rise and fall of Jake’s stomach.

“Slow Ride was not appreciated.” Bradley’s voice was muffled. The movement of his mouth tickled. 

“Not my fault you’re a pillow princess.”

Bradley smacked his ass. 

“Gonna throw my back out because of you one day,” Jake continued, though he betrayed himself by combing his fingers through Bradley’s mess of hair. He’d showered before flopping into bed, it seemed; Jake felt the damp cling to his fingers. 

He placed his chin into Jake’s open palm and peered up with heavy-lidded eyes. Bradshaw and his Pacific sunshine – easier on the eyes than Texas sun overhead at noon, and hot where his arms wrapped around Jake's hips. He liked to sulk until Jake gave him what he wanted: a warm body to curl around, something solid between the sheets. 

“You knock out now, you’ll be up at three.”

“I’ll wake you up, too,” Bradley finally leaned back against the faded blue and white bedspread. He was already half-asleep. “You can amuse me.”

The fine faded lines of Bradley’s scars webbed over his cheek and down the strong line of his neck. The raised skin was easy to trace. Jake thought about what lay underneath often: sinew, blood vessels, and a mandible which worked itself tired whenever Jake forgot to return his calls. 

“Don’t you dare,” Jake dropped heavily onto Bradley’s stomach, earning a quiet huff from the man below. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Plenty pretty enough.” Bradley’s stupid smooth charm caused Jake’s stomach to swoop in familiar thrill. He wished, sometimes, that he could hold onto the feeling. It was akin to doing loop-de-loops in the sky, of pointing the nose of the jet low and diving down. 

It always felt like a thing that could slip out of his fingers.

“Brought a change of clothes over for you,” Bradley mumbled; he placed a possessive palm over Jake’s hip, with a grip in the slippery material of his shorts. “So you don’t have to go home before we gotta be there.” 

Bradley had probably grabbed mismatched socks, but it was the thought that counted. He would gladly take the gesture if it awarded Jake a few more minutes of sleep.

Rooster ran hot even under the full blast of the air-conditioning. Jake unwrapped a greedy arm from his waist. “You ready for it?”

“Mhm,” Bradley fumbled for his pillow; his words were slow and slurred. “‘specially with you around.”

There would be no peace found in the next few weeks. He’d done this long enough: to be summoned back with the best of the best meant consequences. A success for him to chase with trade-offs. Jake sucked in a breath and watched the smooth blanket of sleep spread over Bradley’s face.

[toriaanin]

The Skelton Crew

Once upon a time, there was a ship called the USS Lukola. She was a sleek vessel cruising a warm ocean - blue like a certain Irish lass's eyes - and filled with people like me who witnessed and believed in the love, light and energy shone by Nicola and Luke during (heck... even prior to) the Bridgerton season 3 world PR tour.

Unbeknownst to us passengers, the USS Lukola left charted waters and entered the Bermuda Triangle. BaBaBam (imagine ominous music here). Waves started crashing against the hull and over the deck. The ship's navigation equipment failed; the dials on the bridge panel spin spin spinning in counter clockwise, clockwise directions, like in the movies. Eeek! North, south, east, west? What direction was the ship headed?! Not to worry; the crew and passengers knew where they were going - breadcrumbs and morsels led the way, while heavy golden nuggets like the Claddagh ring & the This/That video 🤍 gave the ship ballast to withstand the storm... but they also knew that patience - and sea legs - were required to see them to their destination.

Naturally some passengers didn't have faith that the ship could reach it's destination so they jumped, relying on life vests for survival. In many cases, life boats were deployed (on more than one occasion) taking passengers to shore where they now look out over the water and wishing they'd remained aboard. Some even return. They're welcomed back of course.

And then there's the group that sent an SOS out to an old battleship. They wanted a tough ship. Not just because they imagined it could better withstand the waves, but because they'd shifted alliances and expected push-back from the USS Lukola. Problem! Their new alliance painted a rainbow flag on their hull. "That's okay", they told themselves. "We can't see it from the deck!" (Fingers in ears, eyes squeezed shut all while singing "lalala"). Rather then face reality and head to shore to join those passengers gazing longingly at the USS Lukola, they decided that sinking that darned happy-people ship was the ideal strategy to "win" the best ship prize. So they proceeded to employ battle tactics against the USS Lukola and, as it would happen, Lukola themselves. Most notably Luke.

So we came into Monday, battle worn following a weekend of presumed troll activity, redirection (because really, Ceasefire in Gaza is far more important to focus on! And also because one does not ignore N's patterns), and the fandom's descent onto the TT account of a sad, misguided young woman seeking social media attention and validation. Challenging for us, yes. Even more so for the Newton family.

Naturally, a few more life boats left the USS Lukola over the weekend too. Sigh. Sad to see them go.

And yet, the USS Lukola sails on!

I was telling a friend about how it feels like Lukolas are being winnowed like grain, the wind or a combine shaking our group to remove the chaff. She laughed and suggested a more appropriate ship reference: "What's remaining is the Skeleton Crew!". YES! That was exactly the right description for us!!!

Those of us who remain on the ship are the hearty diehards. We are the ones who belong to group chats, with friends to help support us during rough seas. Amongst our boney selves are the critical thinkers and analysts. We listen only to Nicola, Luke and their trusted allies. Then there are the creatives; those who develop scenarios based solely on the information provided by the critical thinkers and analysts. There are the bloggers here on Tumblr that relay information and theories, and then help us rib cages to hold on tight. I love that we're a fine collective of beautiful bones, supporting one another as we sail towards endgame. Love. We are The Skelton Crew!

Ahoy matey; there be treasure way!!

Proof of our ability to assess information, of our resilience as crew/passengers (not sure about you, but my chat groups are capital S supportive!), and our belief in Luke & Nicola's love came yesterday when that slag-rag DeuxMoi posted photos of Nicola & Jake buying carrots... and trolling the paparazzi. They spotted that photographer, devised a plan, laughed and totally goofed around for each photo!

Did we spiral? Maybe a little at first. Like I said, it was a difficult weekend and we didn't want more mayhem. Then we looked closer and started to laugh! Just like Nicola & Jake, we hammed it up in the ballroom, in the bar's lounge, and on the lido deck!

No, we don't want to have to weather another storm. But we will if we have to. We have each other and we're hardy souls! Well... skeletons! These bones were made for dancing! ☠☠☠

[the-mortuary-witch]

THE MORRIGAN

WHO IS SHE?

The Morrigan is a triple goddess from Irish mythology who is associated with war, fate, and sovereignty. According to myth, she is often depicted as a crow or raven, and is said to appear in both a positive and negative guise, sometimes as a nurturing mother and other times as a destructive force. She is said to be the phantom queen of the Danaan People, the ancestral spirits of Ireland, and is sometimes depicted as a powerful seer or prophetic figure.

BASIC INFO: 

Appearance: the Morrigan is often depicted as a fierce and powerful woman wearing a long, flowing black cloak or gown, and sometimes with feathers or a crown of feathers. She is also commonly associated with a black crow, which is said to be her messenger and the vessel of her power. Her appearance is usually associated with darkness and mystery, embodying the enigma and unpredictability of war and fate.

Personality: she has a complex and multi-faceted personality, often embodying multiple aspects of femininity. She is said to encompass aspects of the traditional maiden, mother, and crone archetypes, representing youthful zeal, maternal nurturing, and wise counsel, respectively. She is also known for her vengeful and bloodthirsty streak, embodying the brutal and ruthless nature of war and the chaos of fate. Despite her fierce and sometimes fearsome reputation, she is also viewed as a powerful protector and defender of the Irish people.

Symbols: cloak, spear, chariot, sword, and shield

Goddess of: magic, war, battle, life, death, sovereignty, fresh water, destiny, prophecy, and fate

Culture: Celtic

Plants and trees: willow, aspen, rowan, snapdragon, hawthorn, yew, belladonna, mugwort, rose, and nightshade (do not consume, handle with care!)

Crystals: ravenite, yeomanite, schorl, arsenopyrite, harlequin opal, black opal, skye marble, pyrolusite, biotite, feldspar, black agate, hematite, smoky quartz, bloodstone, onyx, charoite, black obsidian, labradorite, shungite, and black tourmaline

Animals: crow, raven, horse, eel, rook, serpent, and wolf

Incense: frankincense, myrrh, sandalwood, rose, cedar, juniper, and dragon’s blood 

Practices: death witchcraft, spirit work, divination, shadow work, ancestor worship, psychic abilities, and necromancy

Colours: red, black, white, blue, and green

Numbers: 3 and 6

Zodiac: Scorpio 

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Tower, Queen of Swords, The Devil, Justice, and Death

Planet: Moon

Days: Monday, Imbolc, Lammas, Mabon, Samhain, Halloween, and full moons

Parents: Cailitin and Ernmas

Siblings: Ériu, Banba, Fódla, Gnim, Coscar, Fiacha, and Oll

Partner: The Dagda and an unnamed shapeshifting goddess

Children: Mechi

MISC:

Crows and ravens: the Morrigan is often associated with crows or ravens due to her nature as a deity of death, fate, and transformation. In Irish mythology, crows or ravens were often seen as messengers between the worlds of the living and the dead, and could be seen as omens of impending change or transformation. For the Morrigan, these birds served as her messengers and helped her carry out her duties as a deity of war, fate, and the supernatural. Additionally, the Morrigan herself was sometimes depicted as a crow or raven in the form of a woman.

Death: she is often associated with death because she is seen as a deity of fate and transformation, which can include death and rebirth. In Irish mythology, she is often depicted as a battle goddess who wields a spear or sword, and is seen as a bringer of violence and change. She is also associated with the concept of death as a natural and inevitable part of life, and is sometimes seen as a guide for the souls of the dead as they cross over to the afterlife.

War: in Irish mythology, she was often seen as a fierce and powerful warrior, who would appear in the form of a crow or raven to guide and aid the soldiers of the Tuatha de Danann, a group of gods and mythological beings. She was often invoked by soldiers in order to bring them victory in battle and could also be seen as a symbol of the chaos and destruction that can occur during war.

Triple goddess: she is often associated with the triple goddess archetype due to her connection with the number three and her role as a goddess of transformation and female empowerment. In Celtic mythology, the number three was often seen as sacred and powerful, and the Morrigan is sometimes depicted as embodying these three aspects of femininity: maiden, mother, and crone. This association reflects her nature as a powerful and multifaceted deity who encompasses the different phases of a woman's life, from youth and fertility to wisdom and maturity.

Samhain: in Celtic mythology, Samhain is believed to be a time when the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead becomes thin, allowing the spirits of the deceased to return to the world of the living. The Morrigan, as a goddess of death and transformation, is seen as playing an important role during this time, guiding and assisting the souls of the dead on their journey to the afterlife.

Magic: was seen as a powerful force that could wield the energy and power of these natural forces, and the Morrigan was often invoked as a source of magical power and insight during certain rituals and spells. Additionally, the Morrigan is sometimes depicted as a sorcerous figure in some myths, casting spells or curses and using her supernatural abilities to influence events on the mortal plane.

FACTS ABOUT THE MORRIGAN:

She owns a herd of enchanted and magical cattle. 

Contrary to some interpretations, the Morrigan is not necessarily seen as an evil or destructive deity. In many myths, she is depicted as a protective and wise figure who aids and guides heroes on their journeys.

She is sometimes portrayed as a shape-shifter, able to take on the form of a crow or other animals.

The Morrigan is often associated with the number three, representing the three aspects of maiden, mother, and crone.

She is also associated with the Fae and the Banshee—a creature that generally takes on the form of an old woman who wails in mourning to announce the coming death of someone in the family.

The name "Morrigan" comes from Old Irish and means "phantom queen" or "great queen."

She is often associated with ravens or crows, which were seen as her messengers between the worlds of the living and the dead.

The Morrigan is known for appearing in the form of a woman with long, flowing hair, sometimes carrying a spear and/or a shield.

HOW TO INVOKE THE MORRIGAN:

Working with the Morrigan often involves building a relationship of mutual respect and trust with her. You can approach working with her in the following ways:

Research and study her mythology, folklore, and symbology to gain a deeper understanding of her nature and characteristics.

Set up an altar or sacred space dedicated to the Morrigan, and make regular offerings to her.

Perform rituals or spells in her honor to seek her guidance and power.

Meditate or visualize her presence in your life, and work on developing a direct channel of communication with her.

PRAYER FOR THE MORRIGAN:

Hail Morrigan, maiden, mother, and crone.  We call upon you, great and powerful deity, to guide us on our path, and protect us from harm. Teach us to be strong and fearless in the face of adversity and help us to find balance in our lives.

Bless our endeavors, and grant us success in all we do. In your name, I give thanks for your presence in our lives. Hail to you, the Morrigan.

SIGNS THAT THE MORRIGAN IS CALLING YOU:

Repeatedly seeing signs of crows or ravens, which are associated with the Morrigan.

Feeling a strong connection to the themes of war, fate, and sovereignty.

Having vivid dreams or visions of the Morrigan or her symbols (e.g. a raven, a battle flag, etc).

Feeling drawn to read or learn about the Morrigan or Celtic mythology.

Experiencing strong emotions or changes in behavior that feel linked to the energy of the Morrigan.

Feeling the urge to explore or embrace warlike or competitive activities (e.g. sports, martial arts, strategy games).

Finding yourself drawn to stories of powerful women, goddesses, or wanting to honour and empower yourself.

Having a sudden urge to explore your own shadow or unconscious and to confront and transform it.

A sudden urge to create or engage in art, poetry, or music that connects to the Morrigan’s energy and symbolism.

OFFERINGS:

Red meat.

Mead. 

Red wine poured into the ground. 

Apples. 

Milk. 

Whiskey. 

Storm water

Crow or raven feathers. 

Knives and daggers. 

Scrying. 

Artwork and poetry. 

Red foods. 

Deep green, black and red stones/crystals. 

Honey. 

Dark chocolate. 

Coins. 

Studying Celtic mythology. 

Blood (especially menstrual blood). 

Traditional Irish foods. 

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

Creating sigils or magickal symbols associated with the Morrigan and her aspects (such as battle, war, death, etc) and charging them with your intention and energy.

Performing war dances, warrior rites, and ceremonies of protection and victory.

Paint your nails black or red while thinking of her. 

Shadow work. 

Exploring magic and divination related to the Morrigan, including the use of rune stones, scrying, and spirit communication.

Draw or paint her. 

Participating in activities where you are willing to take risks and venture into the unknown, as the Morrigan is known for pushing individuals to embrace their destiny and seize control of their life.

Respecting the dead. 

Working to protect and uphold your own personal sovereignty and destiny, and resisting outside influence or control.

Make a playlist that is dedicated to her, or listen to music that reminds you of her. 

Lighting a black candle. 

Feeding your local murder (crows). 

Celebrating the changing of the seasons and honoring the cycles of life and death.

Praying and making offerings to the Morrigan, seeking her guidance and power for your magical and spiritual practice.

Screaming your heart out when alone in the woods. 

Performing blessings and healing rituals for fresh water bodies, such as lakes, rivers, and streams, to honor the Morrigan’s association with water.

Standing up for yourself. 

Exercising (especially if it’s challenging). 

Celebrate Samhain. 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you have any good words for pain? (Hurt for example) Like being in pain or exclamations of pain (ouch for example)

Pain—unpleasant bodily sensation; mental/emotional distress or suffering

Ache - a usually dull persistent pain

Affliction - a cause of persistent pain or distress

Agony - intense pain of mind or body; anguish, torture

Anguish - extreme pain, distress, or anxiety

Bruise - an injury involving rupture of small blood vessels and discoloration without a break in the overlying skin; an injury especially to the feelings

Burn - to produce or undergo an uncomfortable or painful sensation like that of being injured by fire

Chafe - to make sore by or as if by rubbing

Clonus - a rapid succession of alternating contractions and partial relaxations of a muscle occurring in some nervous diseases

Colic - an attack of acute abdominal pain localized in a hollow organ and often caused by spasm, obstruction, or twisting

Cramp - a painful involuntary spasmodic contraction of a muscle

Deleterious - harmful often in a subtle or unexpected way

Discomfort - mental or physical uneasiness; annoyance

Distress - pain or suffering affecting the body, a bodily part, or the mind; trouble

Fester - to generate pus; putrefy, rot;; to cause increasing poisoning, irritation, or bitterness

Gripe - a pinching spasmodic intestinal pain—usually used in plural

Inflamed - to cause inflammation (i.e., injury that is marked by capillary dilatation, leukocytic infiltration, redness, heat, and pain) in (bodily tissue)

Lancinate - pierce, stab, lacerate

Malaise - a vague sense of mental or moral ill-being

Misery - a circumstance, thing, or place that causes suffering or discomfort

Noxious - physically harmful or destructive to living beings

Pernicious - highly injurious or destructive; deadly; (archaic): wicked

Prickle - a prickling or tingling sensation

Sore - a source of pain, distress or vexation; affliction

Spasm - an involuntary and abnormal muscular contraction; a sudden violent and temporary effort, emotion, or sensation

Sting - a wound or pain caused by or as if by stinging (sharp or piercing)

Suffer - to endure death, pain, or distress

Throb - to pulsate or pound with abnormal force or rapidity

Travail - a physical or mental exertion or piece of work; task, effort; agony, torment

Twinge - a sudden sharp stab of pain

Woe - a condition of deep suffering from misfortune, affliction, or grief

Exclamations of Pain

ouch, boo, ow, aw, woe, shucks, ay, rats, yuk, sheesh, alack, tush, pooh, yuck, wirra (Irish), phooey, alas, tsk, pshaw, bah, humph, tut, pish, ho hum, faugh, fie

Hope this helps with your writing. Do tag me, or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[lilianasgrimoire]

Herbs & Correspondences G-L

Galangal Root - Also called Lo John the Conqueror or Lo John. Carry into legal proceedings to help win. Money, gambling and hex breaking.  Also aids luck and psychic development. Element Fire. 

Garlic - Magical uses include speed, health and endurance, also protection, exorcism and purification. Use also to promote your inner strength.  Element Fire. 

Gentian - Increases spell power. Good luck and works well in love & romance spells. Element Fire. 

Ginger - Increases magic power. Success, love, money and power.  Element Fire. 

Ginseng - Promotes love, beauty, healing and lust.  Element Fire. 

Hawthorn Wood- Associated with Beltane. Magical uses include chastity, fertility, fairy magic, fishing magic, and rebirth.  Success in career, work, and employment. Use it to work with the fae. Used in weddings and handfasting's to increase fertility. Element Water.  Hawthorne Berries aid chastity. Hope, protection and happiness. Element Fire.  

Hearts Ease - Also called Violet.  It helps to mend a broken heart. Aids rebirth, peace, wishes and luck.  Calms the nerves and promotes peace and tranquility. Element Water.  

Hemlock - Use to paralyze a situation and a funeral herb. Highly Toxic.  Element Water.   

Henbane - Dried leaves are used in the consecration of ceremonial vessels. Used in love sachets and charms to gain the love of the person desired. Highly Toxic. Element Water.  

Hibiscus - Attracting love and lust.  Use in divination. Associated with lunar magic.  Element Water. 

High John - (The Conqueror) An "all purpose" herb.  Use it for strength, confidence, conquering any situation.  Good luck, prosperity and protection. Element Fire.   

Holly Hock - Protecting, all Fairy magic, abundance, personal growth and aids passing. Related to Lammas. Element Earth. 

Horehound - Protective against evil doings. Helps with mental clarity during ritual; stimulates creativity/inspiration; balances personal energies and healing.  Element Earth.  

Horsetail - Use for strength and resolve. Protection, cleansing and clearing unwanted emotions.  Element Earth. 

Hyssop - Used for purification.  Banishing, protection and healing.  Element Fire. 

Irish Moss - Used for luck. Ideal for gamblers!  Attracts money and customers for self-employed. Offers protection. Element Water 

Ivy - Protection, healing and fertility.  Use for love and hang at handfasting's.  Element Fire. 

Jasmine - The herb of attraction.  Helps prophetic dreaming, money and love. Element Water. 

Juniper - See Cedar berries.  

Lady's Mantle - Aphrodisiac and transmutation. Use in love spells and those of fertility.  Increases magic power in spells and connects with fairy lore. Element Water. 

Laurel- See Bay leaf. 

Lavender - Magical uses include healing, sleep and peace. It also promotes chastity and love. Increases longevity of life, tranquility and happiness.  Element Air. 

Lemon Balm - Also called Melissa. Love, success and healing.  Aids psychic/spiritual development. Supports mental health disorders and compassion. Element Water.     

Lemon Grass - Psychic cleansing and opening.  Use in lust potions and when using Dragon Magic.  Element Air.  

Licorice Root - Love, lust, and fidelity. Also attracts passion. Element Water. 

Lilac - Wisdom, memory, good luck and spiritual aid.  Element Water. 

Linden Flower - Wisdom, justice, love and protection. Element Air. 

Lime Tree Leaf - Healing, calm and love.  Aids strength and tranquility.  Element Air. 

Little John - See Galangal root. 

Lungwort - Use in air magic or as an offering to the Gods of air.  Offers safe travel when flying. Element Air.  

[ichabodcranemills]

Reader, two years later, she was not okay with it

I’m trying to describe how the Jonahlias reveal and the Amalia-Zephyr reveal were both very similar, but I hate one and like the other but I can’t put that into words

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Better Of Two Evils

Summary: After Damian’s flirty nature comes to life, you’re left to deal with its aftermath with no other than the Demon King and his Human vessel.

Pairings: Bálor x F!Reader x Finn

Warnings: +18, smut, slight heresy, mentions of worship, p in v, oral (f receiving), curse words, slight dom x sub.

A/N: This is my birthday gift for the amazing @theworldofotps , she wanted a sequel to Salome so I hope you like it, babe. I wish you nothing but the best in your new journey and I hope it’s filled with all good things one can have in life! I love you so much, thank you for being my friend, and for being one of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet in my life. You truly deserve the world and I hope you have an amazing day love ya.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @mjfass , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

Of Damian’s flirty nature, you were already aware of, not only because of Finn’s endless warnings but also because you’ve witnessed the Puerto Rican man’s charm over women a handful of times now.

Damian flirts with everyone, literally everyone. No matter the age, gender, or ethnicity, he always found a way to captivate whomever he interacted with. And it was no different with you.

“Wow, mami” Damian whistled when you entered through the club’s back door. “You’re gonna give a man a heart attack”.

Your outfit was less than impressive, since it was a low night at the club you decided for a more casual look: a navy blue velvet tracksuit, along with a pair of black All Stars summed up your outfit for the night.

“Always a charmer, huh?” You chuckled, unaware that Finn was approaching you from behind.

“What can I say?” Damian smirked “A beautiful woman has the power to bring out the best in me”

“And your best is to be an ultimate flirt?” You narrowed your eyes playfully

“When it comes to you, yeah” the amused wide grin on Damian’s face was more than enough to make you giggle.

“You’re a menace, sir”

“Sir?” His eyes widened in surprise, not wasting the opportunity to tease you further. “Mami, if you’re gonna start calling me that then we just might have to go upstairs right now” Damian winked at you with a smirk plastered on his lips. “I’ll even rent the VIP room, just for you”.

Now you have to laugh. A little more than you should’ve, but who could blame you? The guy had great timing and impeccable humor.

“Wow, how could I say no to that” Your nonchalant tone left no room for doubt that you took his teasing in an amicable way, similar to two siblings poking fun at each other, you had no intentions of taking this to a more intimate level, and neither did Damian. It was all lighthearted. Everyone knew that, everyone could see that, except them. To them, this suddenly became a pissing contest, a dispute, a challenge. One they never lost and didn’t intend to lose.

“The shipping of new furniture arrived this morning, Priest”. The doubled voice resonated from your lover’s body, the tenor contrasting with the bass as both voices complimented each other with each word. “Go unpack it…now”.

“Isn’t that Dominik’s j-“

“I said NOW!” The bass voice screamed, settling its dominance. Finn’s eyes began to shift colors. One remained blue as the other turned a fierce shade of orange-red.

“Ok, Boss” Damian set his hands up as a sign of submission. “Chill out”.

Before Damian could even blink, Finn stood in front of him. His face got so close to Damian’s that they almost seemed the same height.

“If you ever dare to tell me to ‘chill out’ again, those will be your last words in this pitiful earth before you become hellhound’s breakfast!” The demon left no room for debate. Bálor learned how to tolerate humans after being in Finn’s body for over 40 years, that didn’t mean he liked them or that he wouldn’t kill one for fun. The only human Bálor seemed to truly like was you, but that could easily change if his pride is on the line.

“Bálor, he was just-“

“Silence!” He growled at you, voice bubbling with hatred, “If you dare to speak one word to defend him, little girl, you’ll know a side of me that you’ll wish you’d never met!” His fiery gaze fixed on you as he pointed to Finn’s room. “Go and wait for us there, and don’t make me repeat myself!”.

Reluctantly, you walked up the stairs, mouthing “I’m sorry” to Damian as you reached the top.

If there was a god, you were praying to him now, silently begging him not to let Bálor hurt Damian just because of a lighthearted teasing.

“He doesn’t listen to anyone’s prayers, why would he listen to yours?” Bálor’s voice rumbled in your ear, quickly making you turn around to face him at the foot of the bed.

“Do you think you’re that special, pet?”

Oh, he was mad.

At first, when you met him, Bálor called you “pet”, it was a deprecating term at the time, filled with disdain. But after a while, you became “little girl” when he was in a good mood, “my pet” when he was annoyed with you, and “pet” when he was mad at you.

“Are you God's precious little thing? That’s why you think He’ll hear you, huh?” When only silence answered him, Bálor growled loudly “Answer me!”

“No-“ Your voice was cut off by the sudden pressure of Finn’s hand amplified by Bálor’s strength around your neck.

“Good. Because HE won’t hear you! You belong to a demon and a human, the only god you should ever pray for is ME! I’m the only one who’ll hear you, and when you do pray, make sure to keep your eyes down on the earth where I am, because I’m not up in the sky, pet. Your help won’t come from up there, so stop searching in the clouds!” His hand abruptly left your neck, causing you to give two steps back due to the lack of force around your throat.

“Kneel”

Your brows furrowed at his statement, trying to understand the reason for that order.

“You were praying, weren’t you? Humans usually do that on their knees, no?! So go on, pet, kneel at your god’s feet and pray”.

“Bálor, please, let me-“

“I.said.kneel.and.pray”

Bálor pushed you down on the floor, making your knees hit the black hardwood floor with a thump. A small cry escaped your lips, your watery eyes looked up to stare at him, who had now taken full control of Finn’s body. His thick veins were black, red irises, canines sharp as razors, hair jet black, and nails tainted black at the edge.

You hoped to every sacred being that your next move wouldn’t anger him even more, but you remember when Finn once told you “Bálor is like an ice cube, cover him with some warmth and you’ll watch him melt”.

“Can I please touch you?” You asked with a meek voice, but he didn’t answer. You took this as a silent green light and pressed your palms against his torso.

“I didn’t mean to enrage you, my lord, I’m deeply sorry”. The correct word to use would be ‘upset’ instead of ‘enrage’, but Bálor didn’t deal with feelings and vulnerability well so you knew how to choose your words wisely by now.

“But trust me when I say that there was no ill intention on my part nor from Damian” You felt his abs harden at the mention of the name, the color of Bálor’s eyes began to dance like the most aggressive fire and your hands soon began to travel up and down his stomach, using touch to soothe his raw emotions.

“You’re the only one for me. You and Finn are the only men I’ll ever want, the only men I’ll ever need. I don’t want anyone else” Your hands began to travel down his abs, reaching his v-line that you traced with your nails. “Only you can satisfy me, only you can drive me insane with just a look”.

Your hands now stopped at his black jeans, one hand began massaging his crotch as the other caressed his lower belly - the most sensitive part of Bálor. “Only you can make me ache for you for days on end, only you know how to make me cum in mere seconds, only you can make me so hungry for your touch that I feel like I’m about to lose my mind if I don’t have you”.

“I don’t like when you respond to the flirtation of other men, pet”

“Damian flirts even with the walls, sir. He flirted with you, countless times” You tried to reason, feeling his cock begin to harden underneath the black jeans.

Bálor let out a small huff as you continued “Am I lying though? You know he did, with both you and Finn. And I always laughed at it because I knew there was no ill intention behind it. In the same way, there was none between him and me. You know that” You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on his clothed erection, “You’re the only one for me, my king”.

“On the bed” Bálor lowly hummed, cupping his hard cock with his palm.

You felt someone pushing you onto the bed from behind, panic covered your features until you saw who it was.

“You’re gonna join us?” Your soft smile pressed against the bare skin of his abs. His hands gathered your hair, softly pulling your head down to rest on the mattress.

His hand pulled the zipper of your jacket down, humming in approval at the sight of your bare breast.

“Came prepared I see” Finn grinned, head leaning down to close his warm mouth around your nipple.

“My good little pet” Bálor spoke from your right, the bed dipped as he knelt on the mattress. His hand pressed your cheeks together, causing your lips to open in a partial pout. “Let’s see how much you can handle it” He chuckled, grabbing you by the hair to quickly turn you around to lay on your stomach.

Your vision was blurred, your voice hoarse from so much screaming and cursing. Two became one, same body, same face, different details. One was sweet and sensual, the other was rough and raw. They were the perfect match, both drove you crazy in their way. The sun and the moon, night and day, dark and light, good and evil, residing within the same man, one born in hell, the other, heaven sent. Either way, you loved the duality, loved the experience, and most importantly, loved them.

“Shit, shit, shit” You whispered in a hurry as Bálor rapidly moved behind you, his cock slipped in and out with such ease that made you wonder how long you could take this.

In the meantime, Finn watched you, his hand lazily stroking his cock beside you in bed, admiring every little frown, every gasp, every moan, every plea. Your eyes instantly closed when Bálor hit your sweet spot, but they instantly reopened at the prickling feeling on your cheek.

“I didn’t say you could stop looking at him!” Bálor stated, landing another burning slap against your cheek, “Don’t you dare close those beautiful eyes, my pet”.

Finn smirked, leaning forward, placing his flattened tongue against the burning skin of your cheek. He gave a few kitten licks until the skin lost its vibrant reddish color, “You taste so good”, he licked again, only changing the route of his tongue.

Finn danced the tip of his tongue across your skin, traveling down your belly, stopping right above your mound. Bálor grinned at the sight, pulling your leg to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh my fucking god” You moaned loudly, feeling the tip of Finn’s tongue circling your clit as Bálor’s cock grew harder inside you. “I’m gonna die, I can’t take it”.

“Of course you can, love” Finn’s muffled voice echoed between your legs.

“Not only you can but you will, my precious pet” Bálor snarled in your ear “Because we won’t be done with you until the sun rises”.

[sierrawitch]

Celtic Customs: Death

by autumn sierra

In honor of my friend who just recently lost a loved one, and my sister who witnessed a tragic death that she was helpless to prevent, I thought it the proper moment to reflect and write on some Celtic death customs and traditions of remembering passed loved ones.

Scotland

Before burial, the body of recently passed relatives were kept in the home, dressed and in their own beds. Family and friends would throw a celebration in honor of their lives. The Scots view death as an opportunity to both mourn the loss of a soul, but to laugh and be merry in their memory to find balance in contrary. All the furniture in the departed’s home—especially mirrors—would be covered with white linens and everyone would play music, dance, sing, and share stories around the hearth to keep memories alive.

A traditional custom practiced by the older members of the family and community include a plate of salt and a plate of soil laid on the chest of the deceased person. The soil represents the body as a physical vessel, and the salt represent the purity of the soul. It was thought that without this ritual, the ghost would not be able to rest, and would haunt their family.

Another custom was to stay up at night and watch the body, also known as a lykewake. This is now seen as a sign of respect for the deceased, but in olden times people believed that the devil would steal the body of their loved one unless they kept safe watch over it. The youth of the family were given whiskey at the beginning of the night and some tea or beer with bread at some point in the middle of the night, and would take on this responsibility for the family. The watchers would tell stories, reminisce, and sometimes recite verses from the Bible.

It was also considered bad luck to see the body of the recently deceased without touching it. A week of bad dreams would follow unless this superstition was taken seriously.

Our perception of death in the modern world is one of detachment and taboo. Many people are squeamish about even seeing a dead body, much less watching or touching one in the night. But to the Celtic people, death was not a taboo thing which had to be hidden, as it is a natural, inevitable part of being alive.

The pivotal connecting moments of birth and death link the physical and metaphysical worlds to each other. Similar to the thinning of the veil during Samhain, we each witness a thinning of the veil when we are born, and when we die. In death, the spirit of the deceased moves across the veil and into the Otherworld, the lands of gods, sìth (spirits), and the deceased.

Ireland

The Irish are no strangers to pain and loss, having experienced famine, colonization, and poverty over its long history. There are many customs that have been cultivated over generations to venerate and remember the dead which are unique to their culture, but the Irish Wake is one of the most well known funeral traditions around the world.

Most likely giving root to Scottish customs, the tone of an Irish Wake is a time of mourning and celebration. It’s an opportunity to grieve and and honor life as a treasured miracle. Those attending an Irish Wake will participate and music making, singing, and drinking, especially if the deceased was an elderly member of the community, or ill long term. However, in the instance of a young person’s or child’s death, the wakes are much more solemn and respectful of the tragedy. Family and friends meet in the home of the deceased to recount memories together, grieve, and celebrate the life lost.

The exact origins of the Irish Wake are unknown, but it’s believed that it was heavily influenced by elements of Paganism and may have originated with the Ancient Celts. The Celts believed in life after death and thought that when a person died, they then moved onto a better life in the Otherworld. The Ancient Celts saw death only as a means for a new beginning, which is where the festivities come into play.

The Irish Wake incorporates the tradition of watching over the bodies of the deceased, and some say that the term ‘wake’ originates from the Irish tradition. Lit candles were placed closely around the body and tobacco was smoked by male attendees as they stood guard against the potential of the devil seizing the deceased. It was believed that the smoke would help keep malicious spirits at bay and stop the devil from stealing the soul. Clocks were also often stopped at the time of death and mirrors covered to further protect the body, as mirrors can act as portals to other—maybe not so friendly—worlds.

The Afterlife

In ancient Celtic religion, there was a belief in an afterlife in the Otherworld (as mentioned earlier), which is considered almost like a mirror of life on Earth but without disease, pain, and sorrow. This eliminated the aspect of fear when it came to passing on since the soul continues to live following its leaving the head (where it was believed to reside). Prayers were made to the Celtic gods, and sacrifices—both animal and human—food, weapons, and precious items were ritually offered to them to bless and allow safe passage of the deceased to the Otherworld.

The gods played a fairly significant role in the lives of the Ancient Celts as evidenced by their religious practices and the existence of protective amulets and talismans within their tombs. Alongside these, Celtic tombs and burial sites contained a wide range of objects, from tools to jewellery, which prepared the soul for the journey to the Otherworld (similarly to how the Egyptians prepared their deceased for the journey in the Duat).

Cremations & Burials

The Ancient Celts buried the deceased in tombs, and alternatively cremated their bodies, a practice beginning in the early second century. Excarnation was also not uncommon, during which the body was left exposed to the elements for a period and the bones were then either buried or kept for religious ceremony.

Burials of warriors and rulers were often rife with personal belongings and other treasures including weapons, armour, gold jewellery, and even large objects like chariots and waggons. Other common items included tools, extra clothing, grooming equipment, oil lamps, food, drink, eating utensils, and gaming counters, again, in preparation for their journey through the veil.

How do these customs compare to the ones of your culture, and your family?

What is your perception of death in relation to life, and how does it mentally or emotionally affect you?

Are you afraid of death? Why?

If you could personify who or what death is, what would that look like?

I urge everyone to challenge their instilled views of what death is and what it means not only for the people witnessing it, but also for those who go through its process. Many people fear that unknown reality, but it’s something we all share and experience eventually in life. You’re never truly alone. And isn’t that thought a bit comforting?

[zeewritez]

The Sailor and The Samurai - I

Mizu x Femme Shipmate/Pirate Reader

Hi my lovelies! I haven't updated in so long and I'm sorry but college has been kicking my ass. (Why tf am I studying biochemistry - because I hate myself). Anyways, I hope to update my other stories soon (I've had chapters for months now, they just need to be edited lol). So for now, here's a little BES fic because I'm in love with this show :)

(Notes: Reader's father is Irish in the fic but she will not be described physically except for having super long curly hair because I like projecting my hair goals onto stories, also I will be using he/him pronouns for Mizu since they are currently being perceived as a man.)

Part 2 now out

Y/n woke up with a splitting headache from the rum she had the previous night. She made a note to self to not attempt to out drink her father, even if he was pushing 60. Rolling out of her cot, she slipped on a blouse and trousers she had acquired from a crew mate at some point. They barely fit, but it was far better than the dresses and corsets she wore whenever they docked back home.

She walked onto the deck just in time to watch over the vast ocean as they approached the isolated island of Japan. She'd been there many times in her career but had only ever been to the ports to assist with loading goods when the crew needed it. Today, there was no need. Instead, she watched with mild curiosity from the crow's nest as crates were loaded onto The Banshee.

The cargo seemed standard: silks, swords, exotic fish. The things nobles in England dreweld over. Yet the passengers were anything but standard. Y/n could barely believe her eyes when the infamous Abijah Fowler was brought on board with guards on each side of him. He was brought to the detention cell, which would have otherwise been used when her father was tired of a crewmate's drunken antics.

Y/n was so taken aback by Fowler's presence she nearly missed the passenger behind him: a young man, a few years older than y/n herself, clad in Japanese garb and yellow glasses. It seemed odd to her, as it was rather overcast outside but she didn't give it a second thought. What she was truly curious about was why Abijah Fowler was on their vessel.

As the ship took sail, she climbed down from the nest and made her way to the detention cell with a curious, if not mischievous, grin.

"I never thought you'd be joining us for London," she teased as she stood outside of his cel, as though dangling her freedom like a carrot. She did not like Fowler one bit, but she found him almost as amusing as she found him vile. Entertainment was hard to come by at sea, so who could really blame her?

"Well I for one am always happy to see you," he said, grabbing her hand through the bars and kissing her knuckles. She rolled her eyes as she pulled her hand back from him.

"What brings you back to the isle?" she asked. "My father doesn't even enjoy England, and he's still in good standing, legally speaking."

"Perhaps he's a better Irishman then me," Fowler said with a shrug. "What does it matter to you?"

The girl looked up in faux innocence. "Oh, I'm just curious."

"Well, why don't you hunt down the samurai that's on board and he can let you know why I'm going back to London," Fowler finally told her. "You've picked up quite a bit of Japanese, haven't ya?"

"Alright, I'll see you around then," she said as she turned to leave.

"You have your mother's rear!" He shouted out, as though y/n had forgotten why she had disliked the man so much. She said a silent prayer thanking the heavens he wasn't roaming freely as she roamed the ship looking for the mysterious man with glasses, which was simple enough.

He stood on the poop deck, staring out onto the ocean, as anyone who has ever treaded water has. The waters had a way of commanding one's attention.

"Hello good sir," the young woman greeted she climbed the stairs, stopping to curtsey out of habit. She'd managed to have some resemblance of good manners despite being raised at sea by a captain with a drinking habit.

The young man stared at her, which was a common response from many men upon seeing her for the first time, regardless of national origin. In fact, Englishmen seemed most taken aback by her appearance. Her hair was long and unkempt, falling down her back in ringlets instead of being pinned into an updo of a proper lady. Her shirt nearly fell from her shoulders and around her neck was a long, beaded necklace that seemed to trail down between her breasts. Y/n giggled at the man's reaction, having expected nothing less.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he spoke casting his eyes away from her eyes out of embarrassment, then down to her strange necklace, then back up to her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," she said, leaning against the Banshee's railing. "It is lovely to make your acquaintance, may I ask your name?"

"Mizu," he answered, finally less taken aback by the strange woman. "And you are?*

"Y/n," she said, reaching out her hand limply, again out of habit more than anything else. Mizu looked at her with pure confusion, almost fear. Y/n giggled again, this time to hide her embarrassment. "It is expected to kiss a lady's hand where we're going."

Mizu nodded and cautiously took the girl's hand, which was smaller then her own, and cool to the touch from the ocean winds. He kissed it with the gentleness most men she encountered lacked.

"You'll make a proper gentleman," y/n remarked as she retrieved her hand once again and placed it under her head. She scanned Mizu as had her. Admittedly he was rather dashing. So much so she'd forgotten what she was originally there to ask him. Fowler was the last thing on her mind. "What's with the spectacles?" she asked.

"My eyes are unnatural back home," he told her.

"Is that so?" Y/n asked rhetorically. Perhaps without thought for personal space, she leaned forward and took the yellow frames from the man's face. She was greeted with eyes that would put the sea herself to shame. "You needn't wear these anymore, your eyes are beautiful." The young sailor folded the glasses and handed them back to the blue eyed man.

A small smile graced Mizu's face at the first genuine compliment he'd heard in regard to his eyes. He looked over the beautiful yet foreign face of the woman in front of him. The journey to London was certainly something to look forward to now.

[scotianostra]

The Pirate station, Radio Scotland began broadcasting in the dying embers of Hogmanay, 1965.

Radio Scotland was a Scottish pirate radio station which broadcast at various points off the Scottish coast between 1965 and 1967, with a mix of pop music and programmes of Scottish interest. It was conceived of and run by publicity and advertising executive Tommy Shields onboard a former Irish lightship, built on the Clyde, named The Comet. Radio Scotland's first broadcast was at 11:50pm on Hogmanay, 31st December 1965, on 1241 kilohertz, 242 metres.

After refitting for her new role in the Channel Islands she had been towed to a position four miles off Dunbar, in the Firth of Forth. Because of delays during the journey north, the ship didn't arrive at the anchorage until early on 30th December, giving the engineers only a few hours to set up the equipment. It was a frantic race against time but the station just made it on air before midnight, albeit at reduced power and with no opportunity to run tests. The first voice on the new station belonged to DJ Paul Young a former presenter of Scottish Television's Roundup programme who welcomed the listeners. He introduced the managing director Tommy Shields, who went on to detail their plans. Radio Scotland was on the air and open for business. The station also broadcast from water near Troon and Northern Ireland over its one-and-a-half years.

While navigating and planting the boat, crew had to be careful to avoid territorial waters, primarily due to the strict laws imposed on the pirate stations by the government of the day. Featuring everything from “modern” rock’n’roll to ceilidh favourites, the station soon became a sensation across Scotland as well as Ireland and northern England, where the signal was also picked up.

With its audience of one million listeners a week in its prime, Radio Scotland was very close to realising Shield’s dream of becoming a successful independent Scottish station.

Joining English stations such as Radio Caroline, Radio Scotland was the only pirate radio station to be formed north of the Border, and soon took its place amongst the big six pirate stations.

People could join the membership of the station and become Radio Scotland “Clan Members”. As a reward, the Clan had their own show every Saturday where they could send in requests, which, alongside Jack McLaughlin’s ceilidh slot, was one of the most popular programmes broadcast.

The station even had its own fanzine called “242” – named after its frequency. The 242 magazine featured interviews with the biggest stars of the day, including The Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Tina Turner, but station managers never quite tempted any of the stars on board the infamous boat.

The pirate station’s theme song was a jaunty wee number sung by folk band The Carrick Folk Four. Finishing off the upbeat ditty were the lines: “Oh Radio Scotland’s playing just for you/So beat the ban, and join the Clan, on station 242.”

Although they received many a plaudit, Radio Scotland was plagued with troubles from the very beginning. A poor signal and periods off-air led to a steep decline in advertising revenue and a frustrated fanbase, while fires on board the vessel and the hazardous North Sea conditions did little to help ease its problems.

In a piece in the Edinburgh Weekly just days after the station was laid to rest, Tony Mark wrote: “The death penalty in this country is supposed to have been abolished, yet here we are mourning the execution of what was surely the sound sensation of both 66’ and 67’ as far as Scotland is concerned.”

Although the station had a short life, as is often the case with such ventures, and was taken off the air in the 60s, Radio Scotland inspired a tribute station, which began broadcasting in the mid 70s.

Radio Scotland International, an independently run pirate station broadcasting to Europe from its base in Holland, started in 1975 and has been going ever since.

For around 20 months his modest little boat made huge waves and pulled Scotland into the "swinging sixties".

The first pic is Tommy Shields unveiling his pirate ship , the last is the stations first DJ Paul Young then, and as "Shug" in the BBC's Still Game.