#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)

[obstinatecondolement]

My extremely low tolerance for people speaking with an air of authority about crafts they know very little about, that I know what I believe to be the baseline amount that the merest novice would know (but I guess is more along the lines of Textiles Georg according to the actually baseline of the general population), makes it very hard to watch YouTube videos sometimes.

[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.

[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”.

[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.

[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?

[civillwars]

Hmm...

(He'd be the first to admit it, the personal stuff between Diego and Johnny is a little less amusing.

Well, less amusing is the wrong word. It's always fun to learn the petty grievances everyone has towards each other, but it's much less...

Relevant.)

Fate, huh...

Did ya stop working for the Joestar patriarch after Nicholas died? I highly doubt that man would ever have wanted Johnny to touch a horse again.

(He's probably pushing the envelope now. Civil War can work with next to no information because it draws directly from the mind at the moment.

But this is juicy. You can't be too prepared, and all.)

If anything, there's some credit to Johnny's name; whether it's a dead brother or paralysis, he really used that to push forward, huh. Leaving stuff behind, to move forward, and all.

civillwars​:

(There’s a low chuckle as Axl hears Diego speak, although whether it’s at the “not low enough” slight or the revelation of Joestar’s dead brother.

He takes a pause, so he’s breaking the next part of his conversation away from the laugh.

It would be in bad taste.)

It sounds awful. Quite tragic. Remarkable that he threw himself further into horse racing despite such trauma, huh?

I suppose that’s the price, I guess. Would he be this… talented without that death in the family?

Guess he left something behind to move forward, but that something happened to be a someone…

(That’s more a mutter to himself.)

You said you knew… Nicholas Joestar? That must’ve been rough, to see that at a young age, much less know him…

(Maybe he betrays a little too much about the knowledge Civil War lets him privy to at this point, or maybe he’s prodding too much out of pure ignorance.)

(Diego just shrugs at that, a low hum at Axl’s questions. He does briefly wonder why Axl is so interested, but he still reasons that Johnny is a common enemy… So he continues.)

The Joestar’s have always worked with horses. Mr. Joestar- his father was a horse breeder.

(… Can’t shake the habit of calling him by his title, no matter how long ago it was–)

I suppose it would only make sense, just to keep the family name going… I am surprised he decided to return at all, considering his back injury.

I remembered him being a good jockey, when we were younger��� just not as good as me.

(There’s a nudge towards their rivalry. If Diego were competing, he’d always best Johnny– always. Even if Diego had the severe disadvantage, fighting his way out of poverty in order to get where he was, he still came out on top… He supposed that’s why Johnny was so bitter.

There’s a brief smug smile at the thought. But it disappears before he carries on.)

… It wasn’t nice, no.

(He does shudder a little upon recollection of it, but he plays it off by tugging his coat closer to him.)

But it couldn’t be helped. I’m… Pretty sure he was dead as soon as he hit the ground, anyway, even if any of us could have gotten to him.

It must have just been fate, or something.

[carnivorousmossbeast]

Transit

no content warnings

Summary: John “Soap” MacTavish & Simon “Ghost” Riley wait for a military convoy. Ghost finds out Soap knows a song that isn’t “Anarchy in the UK” by the Sex Pistols.

The only thing cutting through the silence of the pre-dawn darkness was the lieutenant opening and closing his mouth, clacking his bloody tongue piercing against his teeth — mindless and heedless of the phantom pain shooting through Soap’s mouth every time it happened. The wet sounds of lips parting, smacking, tongue licking and detaching from soft, spit-slicked gums were driving Soap up the walls.

“Gum?” There lieutenant’s voice cut through Soap’s unease.

“Gum- what?”

“Did ye want any?” Ghost asked, producing a sliver-wrapped strip from somewhere. Mysterious pocket candy, as likely to be fresh as it might have been plucked from a dead Russian operative seven months ago, and Ghost had simply forgotten to empty his pockets before laundry. Juicy Fruit mixed with old pocket sweat stains and Persil detergent didn’t seem like a flavour to chase the miserably watered down and microwaved coffee sachet he’d called his breakfast because mess didn’t open until five. Two full hours before they were scheduled to leave. Soap sighed and turned his face towards the window. They were supposed to be out on the road already, but the fucking convoy of course ran late — and now all they could do was stare at the silent radio and wait. He hated these hours wasted in limbo.

Ghost seemed oddly calm, for once. Aside from the whole mouth-smacking of course. Soap wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps the situation had him more on edge than usual.

“Bother ye if I start the motor?” Soap asked. The windows were fogging up and the used air was making him sleepier than it should, although given the three thirty wakeup call he decided to cut himself some slack. Still, being this tired without the convoy having reached base yet, let alone getting a move on, it didn’t seem like his best idea.

“Keep the lights down. Lieutenant Morrison gets weird about his boys and they’re facing us.” The lieutenant wiggled his leg. “Tell me about your basic,” Ghost finally asked.

“Wot? Story time because ye’s types didn’t have a good sergeant in basic?” Soap snorted. Ghost did that thing he liked to do where he could be staring at Soap, at Soap’s bones and nerves and delicate blood vessels, or something not-Soap which just so happened to occupy the same space as Soap. The eery glare didn’t really do it for Soap so he turned the key in the ignition and took a second to appreciate the warm red and orange lights popping up before he twisted the key one notch further and the old jeep coughed back to life. The machine was loud in the pre-dawn silence, cutting through the dreams and exhausted half-comas that their comrades surely still tried to escape in.

“Used to ah. We used to sing a lot. Had an Irish boy in our group, he knew all these songs from his ma’s pub.”

“Sing like a bird, the lot of you?”

“Ever heard a shoebill, Lt?” Soap asked.

“On YouTube,” his lieutenant admitted easily. Soap sniggered to himself.

“Surprised ye know what that is, sir.”

“Had to take basic somewhere, didn’t I?” Ghost asked mildly. The weirdly wet mouth-noises stopped, and instead he started popping one of the buttons on his thigh pocket.

“Yer right mad if ye think for a second I believe that Sir, all due respect.”

Ghost only hummed to Soap’s indignant reply. “Sing us a song then, Soap.”

“Ever heard a Kiwi?”

“Had one run up to me in the middle of a night training with Aussie SAS,” Ghost replied with what sounded like a grimace. “The poor sods that were sent to populate that continent really had to think they were being sent to hell.”

“They didn’t know how America would turn out,” Soap replied absently, trying not to focus too hard on the repetitive metallic plop of Ghost opening and closing the buttons on his trouser pockets.

“A right comedian before sunrise.” At least Ghost seemed amused by his disgruntled, short replies.

“Aye, Dante had shit on me,” Soap agreed easily and wondered for the umpteenth time why Ghost would be so fucking awake at this ungodly hour. He wasn’t used to superiors sitting awake while they waited for a convoy, wasn’t used to conversation beyond talking shit at the CO passed out snoring in the passenger seat.

“Not quite, Soap,” Ghost said with what sounded like a smile. “Promised me a song, sergeant.”

“Nae danger did I promise ye anything,” Soap tried.

“Don’t get cute with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

“Go’an then.”

Soap sighed and rolled his eyes for good measure before adjusting the fan to heat the windows.

“There are men of over ninety that have never yet kissed a girl,” he started and then stopped himself to clear his throat. “But give me a ramblin’ rover frae Orkney down to Dover. We will roam the country over and together we’ll face the world.

“If you’re bent with arthritis, your bowels have colitis, you’ve gallopin’ bollockitis, and you’re thinkin’ it’s time you died,

“If you’ve been a man of action, though you’re lying there in traction, you may gain some satisfaction thinking ‘Jesus, at least I tried’.

“Oh there’s sober men and plenty, and drunkards barely twenty, there are men of over ninety that have never yet kissed a girl.”

“Missed your true callsign, didn’t you?” Ghost asked quietly, as if he regretted breaking the silence after Soap’s voice cracked on the last line. “Sing like a lark for me, Soap.”

“Not a happy song, Lt.” Soap exhaled through his nose, and tried not to think too hard about the way his voice had cracked. On how many notes he had missed. Why he had chosen that particular part of the song to sing.

“Doesn’t change that you sing it nicely, sergeant. Sound like a choir boy.” Soap bit his lip, uncomfortable with how easily Ghost had spoken about Soap’s childhood, regardless of if it stemmed from Soap’s personnel file — which Ghost has full access to, it would just be weird — or if it had come from conjecture — also weird to think of himself as so easily fitting into patterns, Soap thought.

“Think that’s the convoy up ahead, on the service road?” Soap noticed movement to his left, half hidden behind his lieutenant’s bulky form. Desperately wished for the moving string of lights to be his reprieve from Ghosts eery perception. Ghost turned in his seat, twisting his entire spine. Soap thought to himself that he’d have been both more and less surprised at the same time if his lieutenant had just swivelled his head like an owl.

“You good to drive, sergeant?” Ghost asked.

“Tell you when it changes, Lt,” Soap promised and watched Ghost’s satisfied little nod.

“Then hit the road,” he ordered lightly and started fiddling with that stupid pocket again.

“Yes, Sir.” Soap smiled to himself while he turned on the lights and pulled out of the parking space to slip between the guard vehicles of the MP.

We will roam the country over and together we’ll face the world.

He hummed to himself, quietly of course as to not disturb the night any further. If Ghost joined him, Soap pretended not to pay any attention to it and weaselled the soft sound away to keep safe in his breast pocket.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

12 June 2024

Wreck hunters have found the ship on which the famous polar explorer Ernest Shackleton made his final voyage.

The vessel, called "Quest," has been located on the seafloor off the coast of Newfoundland, Canada.

Shackleton suffered a fatal heart attack on board on 5 January 1922 while trying to reach the Antarctic.

And although Quest continued in service until it sank in 1962, the earlier link with the explorer gives it great historic significance.

The British-Irish adventurer is celebrated for his exploits in Antarctica at a time when very few people had visited the frozen wilderness.

"His final voyage kind of ended that Heroic Age of Exploration, of polar exploration, certainly in the south," said renowned shipwreck hunter David Mearns, who directed the successful search operation.

"Afterwards, it was what you would call the scientific age. In the pantheon of polar ships, Quest is definitely an icon," he told BBC News.

The remains of the ship, a 38m-long schooner-rigged steamship, were discovered at the bottom of the Labrador Sea on Sunday by a team led by The Royal Canadian Geographical Society (RCGS).

Sonar equipment found it in 390m (1,280ft) of water. The wreck is sitting almost upright on a seafloor that has been scoured at some point in the past by the passing of icebergs.

The main mast is broken and hanging over the port side, but otherwise, the ship appears to be broadly intact.

Quest was being used by Norwegian sealers in its last days. Its sinking was caused by thick sea-ice, which pierced the hull and sent it to the deep.

The irony, of course, is this was the exact same damage inflicted on Shackleton's Endurance - the ship he used on his ill-fated Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914–1917.

Fortunately, the crews of both Endurance, in 1915, and Quest, in 1962, survived.

Indeed, many of the men who escaped the Endurance sinking signed up for Shackleton's last polar mission in 1921-1922, using Quest.

His original plan had been to explore the Arctic, north of Alaska, but when the Canadian government withdrew financial support, the expedition headed south in Quest to the Antarctic.

The new goal was to map Antarctic islands, collect specimens and look for places to install infrastructure, such as weather stations.

Shackleton never made it, however, struck down by heart failure in the Port of Grytviken on the British Overseas Territory of South Georgia, the last stop before reaching the White Continent. He was just 47 years old.

After his death, Quest was involved in other important expeditions, including the 1930-31 British Arctic Air Route Expedition led by British explorer Gino Watkins, who himself tragically died aged 25 while exploring Greenland.

Quest was also employed in Arctic rescues and served in the Royal Canadian Navy during WWII, before being turned over to the sealers.

The RCGS team members carried out extensive research to find Quest's last resting place.

Information was gathered from ship's logs, navigation records, photographs, and documents from the inquiry into her loss.

The calculated sinking location in the Labrador Sea was pretty much spot on, although the exact co-ordinates are being held back for the time being.

A second visit to the wreck, possibly later this year, will do a more complete investigation.

"Right now, we don't intend to touch the wreck. It actually lies in an already protected area for wildlife, so nobody should be touching it," associate search director Antoine Normandin said.

"But we do hope to go back and photograph it with a remotely operated vehicle, to really understand its state."

Alexandra Shackleton is the explorer's granddaughter and was patron to the RCGS survey.

"I was thrilled, really excited to hear the news; I have relief and happiness and a huge admiration for the members of the team," she told BBC News.

"For me, this represents the last discovery in the Shackleton story. It completes the circle."

The explorer continues to spark interest more than a century after his death.

Hundreds of people visit his grave on South Georgia every year to pay their respects to the man known by his crews simply as "The Boss."

"Shackleton will live forever as one of the greatest explorers of all time, not just because of what he achieved in exploration but for the way he did it, and the way he looked after his men," said David Mearns.

"His story is timeless and will be told again and again; and I'm just one of many disciples who'll keep telling it for as long as I can."

—

Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton CVO OBE FRGS FRSGS (15 February 1874 – 5 January 1922) was an Anglo-Irish Antarctic explorer who led three British expeditions to the Antarctic.

He was one of the principal figures of the period known as the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration.

[sammmwinchesterrrirl]

okay spn tumblr i have a question.

does a demon’s accent transfer when switching vessels?? correct me if im wrong but i think at some point in spn, Crowley switches a vessel & still has his accent. does this go for all demons? (or angels, idk if they can develop accents or if enochian has an accent.) i think that the vessel they’re in plays a roll in the accent change. like, if Crowley switched vessels to a young girl than obviously the vessel doesnt have the natural voice pipes to speak in an older scottish man’s accent. BUT, is there science behind accents? like, say there are two vessels. vessel number one, inhabiting Crowley, obviously has a scottish/irish accent. vessel number two is completely alike to Crowley’s except the human inhabitant does not have a scottish/irish accent. if Crowley switched vessels to vessel #2, would he still have the accent?

this being said: we’ve seen both Castiel speak and his vessel, Jimmy Novak speak. Jimmy has a noticeably higher voice than Castiel. does Cas purposefully lower his voice, or is it his enochian accent?

[shane-west]

THE RMS TITANIC SINKS | 14 -15 April 1912

On April 10, the RMS Titanic, one of the largest and most luxurious ocean liners ever built, departed Southampton, England, on its maiden voyage across the Atlantic Ocean. The Titanic was designed by the Irish shipbuilder William Pirrie and built in Belfast, and was thought to be the world’s fastest ship. It spanned 883 feet from stern to bow, and its hull was divided into 16 compartments that were presumed to be watertight. Because four of these compartments could be flooded without causing a critical loss of buoyancy, the Titanic was considered unsinkable. While leaving port, the ship came within a couple of feet of the steamer New York but passed safely by, causing a general sigh of relief from the passengers massed on the Titanic‘s decks. On its first journey across the highly competitive Atlantic ferry route, the ship carried some 2,200 passengers and crew. After stopping at Cherbourg, France, and Queenstown, Ireland, to pick up some final passengers, the massive vessel set out at full speed for New York City.

However, just before midnight on April 14, the RMS Titanic failed to divert its course from an iceberg and ruptured at least five of its hull compartments. These compartments filled with water and pulled down the bow of the ship. Because the Titanic‘s compartments were not capped at the top, water from the ruptured compartments filled each succeeding compartment, causing the bow to sink and the stern to be raised up to an almost vertical position above the water. Then the Titanic broke in half, and, at about 2:20 a.m. on April 15, stern and bow sank to the ocean floor.