#Waters loche bath

[ukbathroomshoponline]

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[anarchist-soupkitchen]

The Scots, who get some of their water out of Loch Ness, where the original buyers of gamer girl bath water.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Diluc Ragnvindr - "Bathing in Bliss"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which, after the battle against the corrupted Stormterror, a certain winery owner exhaustedly comes home to the arms of his loving spouse. Or; In which Diluc Ragnvindr and his spouse, [Name] Ragnvindr, share a bath together and bask in each other's presence.

                                                                                                   

🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼

A haze of steam floats about the room; tiny droplets of condensation forming on the walls and tiled floor. An old phonograph nestled in the corner of the bathroom quietly pumps out the melody of Joe Hizashi's 'Merry-Go-Round'. The music gracefully echoing off the walls and swimming around the room and into your ears.

You close your eyes as you leaned back and pressed against Diluc's muscular, naked chest; the water in the large bathtub sloshing quietly with the movement. Laying your head back on his shoulder; you release a sigh of content as he brings his large calloused hand up to brush a few damp stands of hair from your face. His own vermillion lochs loosely floating in the water behind him; finally out of the low ponytail it's usually kept in.

Having you here with him now, just relaxing together while you bathed, was his well earned reward after the battle with Stormterror and the Abyss. Diluc couldn't remember the last time the two of you just basked in each other's embrace like this. He couldn't even remember the last time he actually relaxed either. Perhaps it was about time for him to set aside some time for the two of you to spend together; he wouldn't want you to think he didn't have time for you anymore.

The ruby eyed man huffed quietly at his thoughts; gently nestling face into the crook of your neck. He gently runs his fingers through your damp hair as he hums to the melody drifting in his ears. A smile, gentle and small, found it's way onto his lips as he looked at your calm and relaxed expression.

"What would you like for supper, my love?"

He asks quietly; gently stroking your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You leaned into his touch; hands coming up out of the steaming water to cup his larger hands in your own. Diluc let's out a breathy chuckle as he hears your drawn out hum of contemplation; watching you tilt your head as you think.

"Hmm... I'll make supper tonight."

You humm; moving one your hands to gently cup his jaw and peppering the side of his face with kisses.

Diluc chuckles again; gently moving your head down so he can plant a kiss on your forehead. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you onto his lap; making waves in the water as a result.

"You're stealing the cook's job?"

The vermillion haired man mutters to you quietly; gently rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs, squeezing every now and then.

You turned around to face him; a gentle smile playing on your lips. A sigh escapes you as you lay your head on his upper chest.

"Don't argue with me, Lovey. You deserve it."

You huff at him; pouting as you gently pinched and pulled at his cheeks in a teasing manner.

You were always so thoughtful weren't you... Archons, he loved so much.

🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼•♡•🧼

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[rigginsstreet]

If you're not an ABO girlie, may I suggest instead considering a frazzled and Deeply Regretful new adopted father Hopper who has to try to keep Steve and Billy separate while Billy's post-sacrifice wounds heal because like hell is he going to be the man who has to take his new son back to hospital to get his insides stuffed back in because he tore his stitches trying to make a mechanical bull outta his boyfriend?

A Hopper who has to line the window ledges with tar and coat the flower trellis in oil and keep a spray bottle on his belt because goddamn, Billy seems to be gunning for the award of most creative cause of death ever.

I AM SCREAMINGGGGG!!!!!!!!!

This is so fucking funny billy gets released from the hospital under strict orders not to partake in any strenuous activities (“does that include sex?” “Yes that would include sex, Mr hargrove 🤦”) but his boyfriend is so so hot and he is so so horny what is he supposed to do!

Steve comes over on the first night obviously to look after Billy and make sure he’s comfortable. You know, be a caring boyfriend. And it’s all going innocently enough until Billy starts complaining about how he smells and Steve suggests a sponge bath and well… hopper overhears that conversation and grabs Steve by the collar and throws him out immediately

And then from there it just gets progressively worse because the more billys told he can’t do something the more he wants to do it and Steve’s banished from coming over until billy gets the go ahead from the docs to….return to life as normal… but Billy is impatient he wants his pretty boy now!!! Come hell or high water he is doing his damndest to get over to loch nora but somehow hoppers always got one up on him… (maybe hopper had to recruit el to help him out with some eggo bribes. He’s not proud of it but when you have a kid with superpowers sometimes extreme measures are needed)

Hopper doesn’t see billy (or Steve) for a whole week once Billy gets the clear. It’s slightly horrifying. He doesn’t want to think about it

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 22: Threshold [FREE DAY]

a moment for aureia and aymeric on the threshold of change. aymeric x wol. stormblood spoilers. written for ffxivwrite2024. rated: mature 1273 words ao3 link

Aymeric sighs and sinks into the bath, idly watching the steam as it rises and curls towards the rafters.

It may not be the same as the pleasantness of a hot springs bath, but it is most welcome all the same. His body aches, his muscles stretched and worn. It is a concerning fact of his life how easy it is to strain himself not just from combat, but from a hard day’s ride. Some aides younger than he would find it easy to pin it on his age, but mid-thirties is not old, especially for an Elezen. This is the consequence of countless hours spent at a desk, in meetings, and otherwise remaining stationary.

Guilt twists in the pit of his stomach. He has not been lax, with his life or his duties. Aureia would say he has never once been lax in all the years she has known him, and could benefit from “going rogue”. He has kept regular training, though not as intensive a regimen as many knights can afford. He simply does not have the time. And yet he can and will grace the battlefield, when it is required of him.

He has not once put down his sword. He is both soldier and politician. The latter he is secure in, but the former…? Fighting Garleans is a different beast than fighting dragons. His skill feels eroded. Weathered. Not what it once was.

And it is certainly nothing compared to the tempest that storms the battlefield at his side.

He groans and shifts his position, water sloshing about him as he digs his fingers into the tense muscles of his calf. The bath is a wide rectangle pool sunk into the floor, surrounded by rich red and gold tile. A little ledge runs around the edge for bathers to sit on, carved from the same stone that was used to build Porta Praetoria. A brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its glow hazy in the steam. A few climbing plants stand scattered about the room, vines and leaves spilling over the lip of their pots and dragging on the floor. It must have been some time since anyone thought to care for them.

The Ala Mhigan resistance spared no expense finding the Alliance leaders the best rooms to be found in Porta Praetoria. He almost resisted, insisting that he can sleep in the tents the same as his troops, but—as always—his thoughts went to Aureia. She would not join him, if that was the case, for the sake of her own privacy. And so, a week out from their planned attack on Ala Mhigo, they have found themselves lodged in a room nicer than most Ala Mhigans could ever afford, enjoying amenities most of their soldiers will never have access to.

Who was this chamber’s last occupant, he wonders? A wealthy merchant? A Garlean spy? A distant scion of the Mad King? Perhaps Prince Zenos himself stayed in these rooms, though he cannot imagine it. Garleans think little of the people they conquer, their so-called “savages”. Why would he take refuge in Porta Praetoria when he has a whole palace available to him in Ala Mhigo?

Aymeric sinks deeper into the bath, allowing his legs to float up in the water. Ala Mhigo. It is impossible to block out now, even here in the safety of this room. The far wall faces east and the windows are shutterless, the remains of their wood still clinging to the window frame. Ala Mhigo looms on the horizon, beyond the sea of tents, beyond the dark waters of Loch Seld, its palatial silhouette glowing orange and red with the light of Garlean magitek.

A knock on the door. “Aymeric?”

Aureia. Her voice cuts through the din of his thoughts, and relief washes over him.

“I’m in here,” he calls.

The door creaks open and she slips inside. He raises his head and his shoulders sag with disappointment—she is still dressed in armour, her hair tied back in a tight bun, her weapon strapped to her back. The staff glitters, sharp and lethal, a blue-green focusing crystal interwoven with its deadly blade. A custom design, forged by Cid Garlond from salvaged Allagan tech and crafted to be used interchangeably as a black mage’s armament and a dragoon’s lance. It is impossible to know if she is coming or going.

“Heading out?” he asks gently, careful not to let his disappointment show.  

She shakes her head and moves further into the room, favouring one leg. Is she injured? “Returning,” she replies. “One hells of a scouting mission. Thancred…” She closes her eyes and sighs. “Never mind.”

He pushes himself up. “Are you hurt, Aureia?”

“No.” She crosses her arms, one hand gingerly brushing her side. “I’m going to bed. I wanted to see you before I did. Say goodnight.” Her eyes flick across the room, distracted by the sight through the window. “If I can even sleep with that fucking thing out there.”

“The city may be a reminder of what’s to come, yes,” he replies. “But perhaps we should think of what our deeds will achieve once it is liberated, rather than what it is now.”

“I’m not talking about the city.”

The water’s gentle lap at odds with the fierceness of her voice. She speaks of Zenos—there is no one else she could mean. No one else who raises her ire. No one else who threatens to overtake her mind. He does not know why the crown prince figures so largely in her life. He is a Garlean legatus—a powerful one, of course, but she has laid low powerful legatuses before. The streak of vengeance in her voice gives him pause. It is too powerful, too twisted to simply be anger directed at the general who defeated her at Rhalgr’s Reach.

And a shade too close to the venom with which Estinien once spoke of Nidhogg.

Aymeric meets her eyes. She stares at him, her gaze sweeping over his body but seeing none of his nakedness. Any desire she may have for him has been pushed aside, locked away. With anyone else he could imagine this moment turning into a charming evening, a last romantic encounter between two lovers on the threshold of change. And perhaps it still could be.

“It’s a quiet night,” he says softly. “Why don’t you undress first? Come speak with me for a while. We may not have many chances left.”

Her jaw clenches. “I don’t feel like talking.”

“Then sit with me, then.”

She stares at him, eyes narrowed. With her hair drawn back so severely and her pointed ears on display, she is all angles—sharp and keen and stinging. If he could go to her, he would—to hold her, kiss her, tell her that it will be all right. But he dare not now. Not if she does not want him to.

“I don’t feel like that either,” she says at last, her voice low and ragged, as if she is on the verge of tears. “I just wanted to see you.”

“Aureia—”

“Good night.”

His heart pangs. He rises from the bath, water rushing off him, but it is too late. She slips back through the door, taking care to close it without a sound. A gesture, one of her many perplexing voiceless ways of communicating.

A way to say “I’m sorry, I’m not angry with you.”

A way to say, “I’m sorry, this is not your fault.”

A way to say, “I’m sorry I’m not enough.”

He would have preferred if she had slammed it.

[chiropteracupola]

wip ask game: bath, goat, cat (knowers know)

flight of the heron tam lin au:

“A nice, quiet post, with just enough work to keep your hand in, as it were.” He finished the phrase with a little flourish of his pen, and had Keith been in a slightly worse mood, he might have slapped the thing from the man’s hand. But he had not, and instead nodded in dejected acceptance. “It’s most certainly not a trip to Bath, but perhaps the mountain air will do you good.” Keith had made some dispassionate noise of agreement and left, stepping outside to stare out over the neat lines of the camp before him and the likely ruin of all that he had worked so diligently to achieve.

no instances for goat... very disappointing of me.

flight of the heron ladyhawke au:

So Ewen leaves his shirt and plaid folded on the shore, and allows the tiny wavelets of the loch to lap, cold, against his ankles as he steps into the water. He turns to face the hills just in time to see Keith bat an experimental paw against the water and recoil in disgust — and at that he cannot resist laughing, for the way that Keith the cat shakes out his fur to rid himself of wetness is, he knows, a perfect mirror of Keith the man in ruffled discontent.

[bestiarium]

The Njuggel [Shetland/Scottish folktales]

The Scottish Kelpie is one of the most popular and well-known water spirits. An unsuspecting victim comes upon a malicious creature that poses as an innocent horse. Enticed to ride it, the victim soon finds himself magically unable to dismount and can only scream as the horse plunges beneath the waves to drown its meal. The story certainly speaks to the imagination, but there are actually many variants of it: The Norwegian Nøkk, the German Nixe, the Welsh Ceffyl Dŵr, the Flemish Nikker, the Icelandic Nykur and many others are all variations of the same creature.

This relation can also be seen in their etymology: most of these names are similar, because they are thought to be derived from an old Germanic term for washing (as in, bathing something in a river, like the horse monsters do with their victims in the stories).

But I’m digressing. One of the most obscure variations of the tale comes from the Shetland Islands. Here, people told stories about the monstrous Njuggel (also called Njogel, Njuggle and in northern Shetland ‘Shoopiltee’ or ‘Sjupilti’). Like its relatives, this creature is an aquatic horse, usually depicted as a horse with fins. It also has a wheel for a tail (or a tail shaped like the rim of a wheel, depending on who you ask), but most modern interpretations drop that detail. Its hooves are backwards.

It lives near waterways and lakes and pretends to be a peaceful horse, taking care to hide its strange tail between its legs. Though it usually takes the form of a particularly beautiful horse, sometimes it is an old, thin horse. When a traveller finds the Njuggel, the creature influences them and convinces them to mount it. When the victim climbs into the saddle however, the creature runs away to the nearest lake to drown its prey. It runs at an extremely high speed, keeping its wheel-tail in the air. After accelerating to a high speed, its hooves burst in flames and its nostrils emit smoke or fire.

The victim cannot dismount, but if they can speak the monster’s name out loud, the Njuggel loses its powers and the victim can escape. What happens then varies between stories: sometimes the creature slows down and can be dismounted, and sometimes he vanishes into thin air.

Sometimes, you can see them at night: such sightings usually involve a white or grey horse emerging from water and run some distance before disappearing in a flash of light.

The Njuggel is not entirely the same creature as the Kelpie and the Ceffyl Dŵr. It has a connection with watermills and demands offerings such as flour and grain. If these gifts cease, it will halt the wheel of its mill. To avoid having to offer grain to this creature, people would light fires when a Njuggel appeared, for they are afraid of flames (usually peat was burned, although throwing a torch also did the trick). There is a story in Tingwall about a group of young men who tried to capture a Njuggel for themselves. They succeeded in chaining the creature but couldn’t hold it for long, and the Njuggel broke free and fled. But the standing stone to which it was chained is still there between the Asta and Tingwall lochs, and the marks that were supposedly made by the chain can still be seen.

Sources: Lecouteux, C., 2016, Encyclopedia of Norse and Germanic Folklore, Mythology, and Magic. Marwick, E., 2020, The Folklore of Orkney and Shetland, Birlinn Ltd, 216 pp. Teit, J. A., 1918, Water-beings in Shetlandic Folk-Lore, as Remembered by Shetlanders in British Columbia, The Journal of American Folklore, 31(120), p.180-201. (image source: Davy Cooper. Illustration for ‘Folklore from Whalsay and Shetland’ by John Stewart)

[fleshwizard]

The Loch Ness Monster (Scottish Gaelic: Uilebheist Loch Nis), affectionately known as Nessie, is a creature in Scottish folklore that is said to inhabit Loch Ness in the Scottish Highlands. It is often described as large, long-necked, and with one or more humps protruding from the water. (...) In a 1979 article, California biologist Dennis Power and geographer Donald Johnson claimed that the "surgeon's photograph" was the top of the head, extended trunk and flared nostrils of a swimming elephant photographed elsewhere and claimed to be from Loch Ness. In 2006, palaeontologist and artist Neil Clark suggested that travelling circuses might have allowed elephants to bathe in the loch; the trunk could be the perceived head and neck, with the head and back the perceived humps.

[rjzimmerman]

The out-of-place anhinga, spotted in Maine. Doug Hitchcox

Excerpt from this story from Smithsonian Magazine:

A large water bird usually found in Central and South America and Florida recently made its way to Maine—and birders have been flocking for a chance to see the unusual visitor.

Last week, wildlife enthusiasts were surprised to find an anhinga resting on a log in Somerville, a small town in the south-central part of the state about 70 miles northeast of Portland.

Anhingas are conspicuous birds with long, slender necks and turkey-like tails. Though their feathers are not waterproof, they spend much of their time swimming and stabbing fish with their pointy bills. When they resurface, they clamber onto sun-bathed logs, rocks and other places, spread their wings and let the warmth dry their plumage.

The species’ striking aesthetic and eye-catching poses have earned it several nicknames over the years, including “water turkey” and “snake bird.” (Some onlookers have even compared anhingas to the fictitious Loch Ness monster.) Their name comes from the Indigenous Tupi people of Brazil, who called them “devil birds” or “evil spirit of the woods.”

Anhingas live year-round in northern South America, Central America, Florida and Cuba, as well as along the coastlines hugging the Gulf of Mexico in the southern United States. During breeding season, their range extends northward along the Atlantic coast, but they rarely travel beyond Maryland. So, spotting one in Maine was “totally unexpected,” says Charles Duncan, a Maine birder and co-author of Birds of Maine, to the Portland Press Herald’s Ella Spitz.

[powderblueblood]

5 or 17 for Eddie and Lacy please

interrogate me about my characters

my divine pleasure to give you absolutely BOTH anon

5. GUILTY PLEASURES

full disclosure that I personally don’t believe in guilty pleasures conceptually but for the purpose of THIS: for all her tortured hipster reading (she and jess mariano share such a similar taste in literature it’s sometimes distressing), lacy loves a period romance novel—and I mean like, the drugstore paperback mills & boon bad for feminism shit. something about being too much of a control freak to allow herself to be intimately desired (this requires being seen) so she eats it up in its most melodramatic form, vicariously. same goes for kids fantasy novels (ahem, patchwork girl of oz should have been the first clue here), because she can relax into whimsy and the assurance that someone will save the day, the way they just don’t in her grounded-in-reality serious lit.

eddie’s guilty pleasures are harder to pin down, I feel, because he’s in part so detached from shame but so keenly aware of it in other places. but the boy loves to be pampered. I mean, head massage, hair treatments, bubble baths, the whole shebang. he loves to be coddled and taken care of and feels so weeeeeird about that because of the no duh abandonment issues, who’s gonna take care of him who’s gonna come into his kitchen and be hungry for him, and being perceived as a big tough metalhead MAN! he’s also a sucker for an off off off brand made for tv animated movie, like he does be tearing up at them. getting weepy about the last unicorn type ass.

17. REGRETS

lacy regrets not following phoebe to her homeroom on the first day of freshman year and chosing to chase the popular kids instead. lacy regrets divorcing herself from her emotions so harshly that she’s now terrified to feel them—good, bad, indifferent. lacy regrets letting herself go cold in an effort to get ahead. lacy would stand at her vanity in loch nora while a party she threw raged on outside and would think, ‘what the fuck is this all for?’ but everything she was brought up to believe told her that it’s better to be lonely and surrounded by bodies you can manipulate into company or kin than be lonely and alone. she regrets ever believing that.

eddie moves a little faster; he doesn’t spare much time for regretting stuff because he’s always had to simply survive, and to that end, improvise. finding a supplier in rick was improvising, begging bev to let him work at the hideout underage because it’s one of his dad’s preferred watering holes was improvising. but, if he had to pick, it’s letting improvising get in the way of how scholastically capable and clever eddie used to be when he was a kid. teachers remarked upon it in parent conferences that his mom would show up to alone, giving elizabeth that sidelong glance that told her her boy eddie was smart—and not just for a munson. he hates that he lost that somewhere between where he stands now and his mom’s hospital room.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Lady of the Loch (Jamie Fraser x OC) Part 1

Summary: An old family folktale thrived amongst the Frasers of Lallybroch about a mythical being that lived in the small, secluded loch near their home. Most claimed it was just a story, while a rare few claimed to have seen her. But for Jamie Fraser, she became so much more. 

This was my submission for a Halloween challenge (I'm a few days late, sorry) and my first time writing for the Outlander fandom! This story ended up taking a life of its own, so I split it into 2 parts. Also, the moodboards are made by me with all pics from Pinterest.

My prompt was: nymph

Words: 3200

Series warnings: canon divergence, all the Fraser family is alive, Claire doesn't exist, mild sexual content, magic themes, Greek mythology, pining, fluffy goodness

Jamie Fraser considered himself an educated man. Far more than most Scots, if he was being honest, but he was still a Highlander through and through. With that were certain beliefs and traditions passed down through the generations which he inherited, a portion of those beliefs resided in the knowledge of the unseen and magical. He had grown up with stories of kelpies, of selkies, of the Bean Nighe, and of the Fair Folk. He had heard enough stories that the belief of them flowed through his veins, just as surely as his own blood. 

Yet he learned early on, that those magical beings were not the only ones to inhabit Scotland. 

It was a Fraser family secret, passed from one generation to the next. Most took it as another folklore story, but some claimed they had firsthand experience. That there truly was something living in the small loch behind Lallybroch. A spirit of the waters. A lady of the loch. 

A few Frasers claimed to have heard her angelic singing as they approached the loch, but it would abruptly stop just before they came within sight. Even fewer claimed to have caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman with long, dark hair and skin as pale as moonlight. 

Amongst the myths of this magical maiden, there was one of a Fraser women who had approached the loch, crying and begging for help from its mysterious inhabitant, in dire need of wisdom in helping her sister who had married a terrible man. The story went that somehow she was guided to a particular plant, hidden away amongst the rocks, that was known to quickly kill. The Fraser woman claimed the lady of the loch had provided the means to save her sister. Another myth claimed a man was sick and nearing death's door but after a bath in the loch, he miraculously recovered. Yet throughout all the stories, there was one underlying theme. The mysterious inhabitant seemed to look out for the Frasers who resided in Lallybroch. 

Jamie was eight years old when his father first told him about the family secret. Naturally, the next day he told his best friend, Ian, and the two young boys decided to take their own chances on seeing the mysterious maiden of the waters. It came to naught as they spent hours by the water's edge, occasionally throwing rocks into the water in hopes it would disturb her and force her to rise. 

For the next few years, the two would occasionally try their luck at seeing the loch's inhabitant but it was never to be. Not even her supposed angelic singing graced their ears. 

Soon enough, Ian gave up on the idea, saying it was just an 'auld folktale to amuse bairns'. His attention quickly shifted to a different dark-haired Fraser beauty. Thankfully, Jamie did not recognize the shift in attention of his best friend until years later, otherwise he would have been forced to punch his friend for the sake of his sister's honor. Even though she was more than capable of throwing said punch herself, if provoked. 

As the years passed, Jamie found himself still drawn to the small loch behind Lallybroch. More and more often, he would wander there alone to swim in its waters or climb around on the rocks and trees. Sometimes he would speak aloud- sharing about his day or what he had learned from his tutors or any recent scuffles he had with his older brother or sister. He knew there was no one else around and if anyone caught him they could call him mad…but somehow he just knew there was someone there listening. Even if they never replied. 

He was unsure exactly when everything changed. 

Before he knew it, he could feel eyes watching him. Sometimes when he shared a particularly funny story, he thought he could hear laughter like the soft tinkling of bells. More than once, he caught sight of the water stirring when there was nothing to move it. 

The first time he heard her singing, he was thirteen, almost a man. He walked the familiar path to the small loch, alone and angry. The argument he had just walked away from with his father replayed over and over in his mind, causing him to almost miss the beguiling voice on the faint breeze. His heart hammered within his chest at the purely angelic voice, even if he did not understand the language spoken. His feet were frozen on the hard ground, for fear of taking another step closer would disturb her and halt the melody of the heavens that currently graced this small part of Earth. Was it minutes or hours he stood there, entranced? He cared not. What did time mean when he had the honor of listening to her, for it sounded like all the good things in life he loved, all wrapped up and coated in sunshine. 

Finally…he attempted to creep forward, but as he passed some invisible threshold, the singing abruptly ceased and a smooth splash in the water proved the serenade was over. Even as guilt and regret swept over him, he continued towards the rippling water and took a seat on what he had named 'his' rock, for it was large and half situated in the water and half out. 

Once there, he spoke aloud, apologizing for disturbing her singing and attempting to describe how beautiful it was, even if he kept stumbling over his words and more than likely sounding half-crazed. When he finally gave up and hung his head, cheeks blazing red from embarrassment, he was certain he heard her soft laughter nearby. 

Nothing was able to remove the smile from his face the rest of the day. 

*****

Over the next couple of years, he frequently heard her singing. He knew it was foolish, but he liked to pretend she was waiting for him or greeting his arrival. Yet whenever he crossed that unknown threshold, it would abruptly end. Many times he would sit, close his eyes and listen. For her voice soothed him, like a cooling balm to his heart and mind, silencing any doubts or anger and filling him with peace and joy. 

He never told a soul about hearing her. Every time he thought about it, the words would latch onto his tongue, refusing to pass his lips and spoil the air. So he kept the secret to himself, locked away. When his family or Ian teased him about the amount of time he spent at the small loch, he would brush it off or make excuses. It became his place of solace, away from the demands of the farm and his family. Plus with each passing year, he became more aware that he was not there alone. 

***** 

It was not until after his sixteenth birthday, he finally saw her for the first time. 

His father had begun training Jamie with a wooden sword years ago, but now he had grown tall enough and strong enough to attempt a real sword. One day mid-summer, Jamie snuck away from his chores, carrying his father's sword with him to practice by the loch. Working on his footing and stances, he murmured the steps to himself, focusing solely on his body, the sword and his invisible opponent. 

Suddenly, that feeling of being watched hit him. 

Spinning on his heel, he swung the sword in a clumsy arc, turning to face the small loch. Only for his eyes to practically bug out of his head as they met the most mesmerizing, startling set of eyes gazing softly back at him. The colors swirled in her orbs, various shades of blue with hints of green. The rest of her was just as striking and stunning. Hair as black as the deepest depths of night flowed down her body to her hips. Skin as pale and soft as moonlight graced her form, without blemish or mark. An white dress covered her slender body, but damp as it was, it both teased and hid the beauty of her form with its near-sheerness. Pink lips turned upward into a smile that made Jamie's knees weaken and almost stumble by the utter radiance in the simple action. Youth and beauty were her adornments yet within those mesmerizing eyes, was an agelessness that added a new level of wonder about her. 

Without words he knew who sat at the water's edge watching him. Even beyond the feeling of etherealness surrounding her like warm sunlight, she was, without question, the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes upon. 

"Hello, Jamie."

His heart stumbled, skipping several important beats, and his lungs froze, unable to accept air, due to the shock of hearing the glory that was her melodious voice in saying his name!

It was not until her blinding smile dimmed to a look of concern that he realized he had stopped breathing, his chest refusing to inflate. Immediately, he sucked in a ragged gasp and doubled over, forcing necessary air into his lungs and willing his heart to function properly instead of trying to kill him in self-sabotage. 

Once he finally gained marginal control over his traitorous body and gave into the inevitability of the embarrassing moment, he finally looked back up at the woman nearby. 

A lively smile brightened her countenance once again. She reclined in the shallows of the water, most of her weight resting on one hip, with her legs gracefully bent beside her. Her hands were placed demurely in her lap while her long hair teased around her form, dancing in the water's lazy motion. Those hypnotic eyes twinkled merrily as they scanned over him, setting his body alight, before settling on his forgotten sword. 

Either in his shock of her sudden appearance or the embarrassing coughing fit following, he must have dropped his father's sword onto the grassy ground. 

"Ah shite, dinna tell my Da."

Her answering laughter threatened to make his chest seize once again in awe while a very distinctly male part of him was certainly taking notice of the almost naked woman before him, her thin, white dress only doing so much to conceal her tempting body. 

Picking the sword back up, he wiped what little grime it had accrued on his tartan. His gaze drifted back to the woman, wondering what to do next. 

"Pray tell, did you maim that terrible fowl you bespoke of days ago?"

It took another embarrassingly long moment for his mind to rise above the allure of her voice, a sound he easily wanted to drown in for eternity, and to actually hear her question. Once her question sunk in, he broke out laughing. 

"Ach no, the wee terror still lives. My Ma forbade me to kill it."

Why she remembered that particular story he would never know. Although, it was terribly amusing now. He had gone out to gather the eggs for his Ma, when one of the hens decided to seek revenge for all the years of stealing her hard labor. With a flurry of wings, it attacked him, biting and clawing. He threatened to rip its feet off, once he restrained the bird. The next day he had come to the loch and amidst his ramblings, he shared that story. 

Feeling emboldened by her tinkling laughter, he slid the sword back into its sheath, then carefully leaned it against a nearby tree. Moving slowly, overly aware of the proximity between them, he walked over to 'his' rock and settled down like any normal visit. 

Except this time, he had an visible audience to his stories and ramblings….an divinely, enchanting maiden. 

*****

After that day, every time he returned to the loch, she would appear. Weeks went by. Then months. And as time passed, so did the distance between them. 

At a year, they would sit nearly side by side on 'their' rock. He spoke mostly, sharing stories and tidbits for her amusement, for she enjoyed his tales, no matter how mundane they felt to him. 

One time he finally worked up the courage to ask why she refused to reveal herself to others. 

A forlorn sigh escaped her, a dainty hand swirling the water to create ripples. "Tis safer. I have been alone for…." Her sweet voice trailed off, ages of pain echoed in her words. With a brief shake of her head, she tilted her face to look up at him with eyes that had seen far too much. "Tis better for all."

"And me?"

"You are different, young one."

He internally preened under her words, further confirming how special it was that she chose to reveal herself to him…and more than once! Over the past year, he even more frequently visited the loch to see her. The most time they had been separated was six days and by that last day, it felt like there was an itch under his skin he could not escape, drawing him back to the magical loch and back to her. 

Then her title for him finally sunk in. 

"Young–young one?!" He sputtered. "Ah, haud yer wheesht! Ye ken I am a man grown!" 

Her laughter flowed over and around him, like a summer breeze. An answering smile grew on his face, for how could he not mirror her joy when it was so potent? 

"Weel, ye can'no be much older than me." 

Her laughter dried up, a wanness replaced what sunshine they had been basking in. Before she turned to look over the loch, an agelessness had emerged in her bright eyes that was haunting. "I have borne witness to the rise and fall of empires and gods alike. Yet I endure, for I am tied to this place. Tis my home and under my protection." 

Silently, he reached across the gap that always lay between them, a no-man's land of sorts, to gently take her hand in his. A warm tingle shot up his arm at the connection, causing his heart to trip. She inhaled sharply and looked down at their hands. Yet after a moment's hesitation, her fingers intertwined with his, a reassured smile on her face. 

They sat that way, quietly talking, until darkness began to creep in. Jamie loathed to leave her side, for this was the first time they had touched and with her small, soft hand in his own calloused one, it felt right. Even if he had no idea what that meant. 

*****

It was two months later, his world turned upside down once again. 

Stalking down the path and through the trees surrounding, his feet pounded on the ground with each step. Coming to 'their' rock, he practically collapsed onto it, furiously wiping away the tears leaking down his cheeks. 

"Jamie? What torments you so?"

He looked up, seeing her through watery eyes, standing knee deep in the loch and watching him with a slightly furrowed brow and concern in her eyes. "I– I dinna want– they are–" A fresh sob caught in his throat and he closed his eyes even as tears flowed unhindered, his hand covering his mouth to try and repress the sound of his despair. 

Within moments, her lithe body dropped onto the rock next to him and her arms wrapped around him in a soothing embrace. Unashamed, for it felt like his heart was fracturing within his chest, he laid his head on her shoulder and clung to her as he quietly cried. It was only in the comfort of her embrace and with her hand stroking his hair, that he felt safe enough to speak. He brokenly explained how his family was sending him away to stay with his uncles for a time in Castle Leoch. 

"I dinna want tae go." He murmured after his tears dried and he explained the predicament. 

"Why?"

"This is my home, ye ken? I dinna wish tae leave it. Or my family, or Ian. And….I dinna wish tae leave ye. Ye will be alone again." 

She pressed their foreheads together and if possible, Jamie thought he may have swooned a little. He could taste her breath on his lips, feel the warmth of her body sinking under his skin and infusing into his blood, heating him from the inside out. Her hand still lazily stroked his hair and he now understood why dogs and cats enjoyed it so much. 

"You are my greatest friend, James Fraser, and I shall miss you. But you will go." She gently commanded. "There is much to learn and see in this world. I will await here for your return in which you shall share stories of your adventures and your travels. Agreed?"

Still choked up, he barely managed to mutter out, "agreed". 

They sat that way for some time, sharing the air between them, breathing in the scent of the other and their presence as if to memorize. Jamie knew he must leave soon, to return back to Lallybroch and his duties there. Plus, the longer he sat so close to her, touching and being touched by her, a rather large problem was filling up the front of his trousers. 

With an uncomfortable cough, he drew back and shifted, leaving their shoulders and thighs touching in an innocent yet enticing way. A heat radiated from his cheeks that he hoped she would not take notice of. He rubbed the nape of his neck, looking out over the small loch with its barrier of trees and shrubs surrounding it like a natural form of protection for the magical place. 

"Ye ken, ye ne'er told me yer name." He said quietly, a realization that had been nagging him for some time now. Over the last year they had spent together, she never shared her name, nor had he asked. 

"Hmmm….names have power."

"D'ye no trust me?"

Her eyes flashed over to him, a tightness around her pink lips. "I do."

"But ye willna tell me it?"

"When you return, I shall."

Before he could pester her more, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek, lingering far longer than expected for a chaste kiss. A thrill shot down his spine with the force of a bullet, leaving him flushed and his mind spinning. 

"Farewell, Jamie. May the wind and the waves watch over you and darkness never have a foothold." She whispered and then rose, gracefully walking out into the water. 

Jamie watched her, the skin touched by her lips warm and tingling, and his body seemingly tied to the ground. He knew what was to come, for he had witnessed it many times before but it still always managed to shock him. For in the blink of an eye, she disappeared, one moment there and the next gone, as if a spirit of the water returning to its home. 

With a resigned sigh, he got up, in need of returning home. But as he gazed out over the loch once more, he knew somehow she was watching. 

"I'll return soon. I promise ye." 

Only a silent, soft breeze answered his spoken promise. 

Part 2

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2024: Day 8 - Clean (Extra Credit/Free Day)

Arashi, for once in a very, very long time, had nothing to do. While her wounds from Ultima Thule had mostly healed, Y’shtola and Stalwart had been very clear that she wasn’t to do anything strenuous, particularly with her armour ruined beyond repair. So she was left to sit in her new home, forbidden from anything more than gentle stretching, and told to take care of herself.

Eventually, she settled on taking a bath.

It didn’t take long to draw the water, pumped and purified from the Lochs through a series of tubes. Plumbing, they had called it, a Sharlayan invention that was apparently going to revolutionise the world. That and a half-dozen other things, in Arashi’s estimate. Lyse had pulled a good few strings to get the systems installed in the new housing district, with the plan being to roll it out through the whole city in time. Arashi had quietly donated a decent chunk of her personal funds towards making it happen a little sooner. She couldn’t help it, seeing the light in Lyse’s eyes as she described it all.

Soon enough a steaming tub awaited her, just slightly too hot for comfort but apparently perfect for a healing body. Arashi slipped out of her clothes, only wincing a little as fabric scraped over tender wounds. A healing arm, a badly bruised leg, cuts all over her chest and stomach, a shorn horn. All steadily regrowing and renewing. Arashi winced again as she slid into the tub, but a little pain wasn’t enough to discourage her. She settled in, leaning back until the water lapped against the scales on her neck. Perfect.

Too much of this and I’ll go soft in no time. The thought rose unbidden as she soaked. But didn’t she deserve to, after all she’d been through? Hadn’t she earned some rest and relaxation? Besides, everyone was insistent that she stop overworking herself and slow down, her sister loudest of all. But still the thought churned away. Still it sat there, a sharp edge catching the fabric of her mind.

Arashi let out a groan, sinking deeper until her chin reached the surface of the water. Had she not cut her hair it would have gotten soaked as well, splaying out around her. It was strange, having it so short, but she couldn’t deny it suited her. The boiling water had left her various wounds pleasantly salved as well. Physically, her recuperation was going as well as could be expected. Mentally…

She remembered Lyse’s words, her tears, her anger. She remembered Sanda’s bitter disappointment, the way her sister’s eyes had betrayed the fear both women refused to speak. She remembered Alisaie finding swear words Arashi had never even known existed. She deserved it all, of course. For choosing to indulge her wishes instead of leaving Zenos to rot. For choosing to end him personally, not for the sake of the universe, but just to prove to herself that she could. For giving into her worst instincts.

And worst of all, she knew that she would have done it all over again if she had the chance. That was what truly rankled. For all her talk of justice and helping those in need, she was a sword. A sword existed to cut down that which stood in its path. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. But she could choose what she cut, and how deeply. And she had chosen poorly.

A creek from downstairs cut through her thoughts. She thought she was alone in the house, but apparently not. Instinctively her eyes darted to her sword, lying against the wall next to the door. Typical. Fists would have to do, then. They wouldn’t catch her off-guard, even-

Calm. You know who that is. A voice of reason emerged from its slumber to cut through her tension. Fray, as always, was able to think clearly when she could not. Arashi forced a deep breath in, then out. In, then out. Her heart returned to its natural rhythm. Of course. Only one other person had the keys to the house, and she would have heard any break-in attempts earlier. Her wife had simply come home early, that was all.

Arashi closed her eyes, focusing on the footsteps. There was no attempt at subterfuge, just the patient pad of a casual walker. Another door creaked open as Lyse apparently checked the bedroom, followed by a few moments of silence. Then more footsteps, drawing closer. A knock at the door. A familiar voice.

“Arashi, are you in there?”

Arashi took a moment to find her voice again. “You can come in, Lyse.” It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it all anyway. And besides, the tub kept her mostly decent.

The door cracked open, followed by Lyse’s head. She smiled, saw Arashi in the tub, then went red in the face and ducked back out the open door. Arashi couldn’t help but chuckle. For all Lyse’s forwardness in other areas, she could be surprisingly shy about some things. Particularly considering how she got when they found the time for some proper intimacy. There was a brief rustling, followed by Lyse’s face appearing again. Still red, but more composed this time.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you. Are you feeling alright?”

Arashi nodded, tail slapping against the wall of the tub. “I’m fine. Just finding ways to pass the time until I’m given the all-clear.” And marinating in her own inner conflicts. Perhaps Fareena would have been the better choice for Warrior of Light. She wouldn’t have been plagued by such feelings, surely.

The look of concern on Lyse’s face told Arashi she hadn’t been particularly convincing. “Are you sure? Because I know you got an earful from everyone, and I know Alisaie said she’d never forgive you for being a thick-headed idiot, but-”

“I’m fine,” Arashi snapped back. “I’ll be fine. I just need to…” Words failed. What did she need to do? She didn’t know, honestly. “I’ll be fine.” She knew the words lacked conviction. But she didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” Lyse said quietly. “Nobody will think less of you for it.”

Arashi’s response was to sink deeper into the tub. She didn’t trust her voice to speak for her. She could just about see above the rim, enough to see the door widening and… Oh. Gods. Kami above. Twelve have mercy.

“I know I’m awful with words and all, but there are a few things I can do.” Lyse stepped properly into the room. That explains the rustling. And her face. “It’s not good for you to be alone while you’re like this. So…” Lyse stepped into the tub in a single fluid motion, settling herself on Arashi’s torso with a smile. “Let’s keep each other company, shall we?”

Arashi could only nod. Lyse had a way of hypnotising her without really meaning to, to the point where she couldn’t find the words to describe it. She just couldn’t take her eyes off the way Lyse moved, the practised care and fluidity of her motion. And Lyse damn well knew how to weaponise that fact, the evil woman.

Still, Arashi found it easy enough to forgive her when Lyse’s lips met hers. There wasn’t much room for thought for a while after that.

[aspensdear]

i just finished Young Mungo and i'm honestly blown away by how good it is!! i don't even usually like novels from the perspective of a child/teenager but in this case it was completely necessary and so so good. the exploration of masculinity is brilliant and the depiction of endless poverty after thatcher is so deeply terrifying. and of course the menace of the camping trip!

i was intrigued by how bodies of water seem to indicate important scenes (the pond with the swans and algae where mungo and james kiss, hamish and mungo's joyride to the sea where mungo shows he's capable of inflicting violence, perhaps even the sea that mungo doesn't get to see when he and jodie go to the caravan, and of course the loch), so i looked up saint mungo who turned out to have been born on a river, worked near another one in glasgow, and died in bath. & ofc water is important to glasgow as well bc of the sea and its associated industry.

anyway much to think about but i already know i did really enjoy this novel

[biscuits-of-bagend]

DnDoc, The Loch o' the Lowes #8 - A Terror Shared

Part 1 Part 7

Previous stories: DnDoc, Coming Home DnDoc, Space Band DnDoc,A Man's a Man DnDoc, The God of Rock 'n' Roll

---

Rogue woke up in the TARDIS, in his and the Doctor's bed. The events of the past day and a half rushed towards him like a jerkily remembered nightmare. He wondered if the TARDIS was still floating in the middle of the Loch of the Lowes. He tried to focus on the layered pattern of discs in the room's cornices, the moving wallpaper that right now showed a calming world of drifting clouds. Sometimes they had it set to underwater, so they could see the tropical fish wriggle by. But Rogue figured the Doctor might have worried he wouldn't find water that relaxing at the moment; he was probably right.

   As Rogue stood up and followed the sound of the Doctor and Ruby's voices - just like after the first night he and the Doctor had slept together - he was surprised to find the knot of fear still in his chest. They'd solved the problem, as they always did. What was there to be afraid of?

   He'd found a path from the living quarters straight to the wardrobe, and from there you could get to the main doors of the TARDIS. If whoever was at the console was preoccupied, it was possible to sneak out without anyone noticing. Sometimes Rogue just needed a bit of air, and didn't feel like making a whole thing of it.

   Rogue took this path now and down to the TARDIS doors without a word. But when he opened it, he found that there was indeed still water there. They were still floating in the middle of the loch with the paddle board tied up against the outside of the TARDIS. For a moment he contemplated just diving in wearing his shorts and t-shirt - there was no quieter place to think than floating on your back with water covering your ears - but two things stopped him. One, he'd freeze to death. Scotland was fucking cold. Two, the fear squeezed even more tightly at the thought of it.

   Why? Why was he so scared? Even the thought of dangling his legs in got an oh no from his brain. The confusion now added to the nerves and he found his stomach roiling with stress and his head gradually beating faster and faster.

   "Fuck this," Rogue muttered to himself.

   He sat down and plunged both his legs into the water, dangling them into the depths. The urge to pull them out was immediate, and strong, but Rogue refused. Mind over matter, motion over mind. Or lack of motion in this case. His whole body kept twitching, half-starting the movement of getting back up. To be fair, part of it was likely a reaction to the ice-bath temperature of the water. It was remarkable what a layer of neoprene could do to make a Scottish loch more bearable. But part of it was definitely the awareness that something might be down there.

   Rogue thought through what he knew about the Water-Cow and there were two main reasons not to be scared of it: (a) it had been perfectly friendly; (b) it was no more real than the cottage that had dissolved around them once the story was over. Nevertheless he could still hear it lowing, still remember the water rumbling with anticipation of something coming. He still couldn't get rid of the fear that had pierced into his side that first afternoon swimming in the loch.

   "Rogue?" the Doctor called from up at the console.

   "Yeah?" Rogue replied.

   "Just checking you're okay," the Doctor said. "No rush."

   Rogue hesitated. When he shoved his legs into the water it had on some level been an attempt to face his fear, get past it. But clearly it hadn't worked. He'd started this weekend with a mission: help the Doctor and Ruby have a nice holiday in the present day Scottish Borders. He was on the verge of failing at this, he felt.

   But he stood up slowly, letting the fear stay in his bones and come up with him. He could at the very least stop himself either going into a tailspin or swallowing his feelings.

   He walked up to the Doctor at the console and said, "Doctor, I am still afraid of the water, and I don’t understand why. I don't understand why any of this happened. I don't understand what happened."

   The Doctor smiled at him with pursed lips and patted him on the shoulder. "Honey, you know I love being the font of all knowledge, but I'm afraid I have very little too."

   Rogue sighed, but sidled up beside him and put his arm around his waist.

   "Tell him your theory though," said Ruby.

   "Oh?" said Rogue, leaning forward so he could look round at the Doctor's face.

   "Well," said the Doctor. "It is incredibly rough, basically guess-work. But I was thinking about how the whole thing started when you got scared. Fear can be… it can be really tight around you."

   "Were you going to say it can strangle you?" said Rogue, smirking slightly.

   "Maybe," said the Doctor.

   He turned around to face Rogue, and moved his face up close to Rogue's. "And then, when you confided your fear to me, and we got all wrapped around by love, then I started to feel it a bit more too."

   "And then you were both super intense and I got scared," said Ruby. "That's when I first started to hear the Water-Cow."

   Rogue pressed his lips together, looking over at her with suppressed laughter. As much as the three of them had worked on the dynamics within the TARDIS, Ruby definitely still liked embarrassing them when she got the chance. Sometimes that manifested as timing her inputs right when Rogue and the Doctor were about to kiss.

   "So that's what you think it is? You think it's strong emotion?" said Rogue.

   The Doctor shrugged. "Correlation does not equal causation but… who doesn't get more wrapped up in a story when there's intense emotion involved? The Borders are soaked in magic; so many ballads are set here. It doesn't seem outwith the realms of possibility that you might have got swept up in that."

   "And dragged you all down with me on our nice holiday?" said Rogue. He tried to keep a smile vaguely on his lips and his voice nice and light.

   "I for one am fine with live in a mad scary story where you save a damsel if it involves you telling me you love me," said the Doctor, kissing Rogue quickly before Ruby could interrupt. "Strong emotion rules."

   Rogue grinned, but then turned to Ruby. "And you?"

   Ruby hesitated. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you, I was enjoying the swimming and the walking and the amazing sights. But I came with the Doctor for adventures, and adventures tend to happen. If we can squeeze in some fun between the monsters, all the better. And I had loads of fun this weekend. Thank you both for giving Scotland another try."

   Rogue smiled wide. "Thank you for your understanding, Ruby. You know what, Scotland is at the very least never boring. I think I like it. How about you, Doctor?"

   "Oh, I love it. Many of my best selves have been Scottish," he said.

   Rogue glanced towards the open TARDIS door, where the dark grey water was still lapping, the Water-Cow still out there somewhere, maybe.

   He looked back to Ruby and the Doctor. "Well, how about one last Scottish swim before we go then?"

   "You sure?" asked the Doctor. "You're not still scared?"

   Rogue took the Doctor's hand and kissed him hard on the mouth, grinning as he pulled away. "Terrified."

---

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse @monster-donut @randomwholocker (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 7.22

Holidays

Ask An Archeologist Day

Attorney Day (Indonesia)

Beta Blucan Day

Blackfoot Daisy Day

Childbirth Education Awareness Day

Climate Emergency Day

Division 722 Day

Dornach Commemoration Day (Switzerland)

Family Tree Day

Festival of Boredom and Reveries

Fragile X Awareness Day

George Crum Day

Guelaguetza (Primer Lunes; Mexico)

Hammock Day

Health, Happiness with Hypnosis Day

IMF Day

International Childbirth Education Awareness Day

International Love & Gratitude Day

King Father’s Birthday (Eswatini, f.k.a. Swaziland)

Lendemain de l'Aïd el-Kebir (Mauritania)

Liberation Day (Guam)

Lion's Share Day

Majdanek Liberation Day

National Be A Good Teammate Day (UK)

National Flag Adoption Day (India)

National Intern Day

National Liberation Day (Poland)

National Pajama Day

National Press Day (Azerbaijan)

National Sing from the Book of Mormon Day

National Sophia Day

National Squirt A Pigeon Day

National Thomas Day

National Water Coaster Day

One Piece Day (Japan)

Pi Approximation Day (a.k.a. Casual Pi Day; 22/7)

Preparedness Day

Qurbon Hayit Holiday (Uzbekistan)

Ranggeln (Germany)

Ratcatcher's Day (a.k.a. Pied Piper Day; UK)

Remington 722 Day

Ryegrass Day (French Republic)

Spooner's Day (a.k.a. Spoonerism Day)

Stilt Dance Day (Spain)

SNN 722 Day

Summer Leisure Day

Thulsa Doom Appreciation Day

Trae Day (Houston, Texas)

Urania Asteroid Day

World Brain Day

World Day Against Open Pit Mining

World Fragile X Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Froot Loops Day

National BLT Sandwich Day

National Mango Day

Penuche Fudge Day

Independence & Related Days

Bohol Day (Philippines)

Claveria Day (Philippines)

Organic Act Day (Virgin Islands)

Revolution Day (July 22nd Anniversary; The Gambia)

Sarawak Self-Government Day (Malaysia)

Slovenian People’s Uprising Day (Yugoslavia)

4th Monday in July

Hurricane Supplication Day (Virgin Islands) [4th Monday]

Festivals Beginning July 22, 2024

The Borderland (Alversjö, Denmark) [thru 7.28]

Corn Capital Days (Olivia, Minnesota) [thru 7.28]

Farnborough International Airshow (Farnborough, United Kingdom) [thru 7.26]

Supertoon International Animation Festival (Šibenik, Croatia) [thru 7.26]

USA Beer & Wine Ratings (San Francisco, California)

Feast Days

Abd-al-Masih (Christian; Saint)

Alexander Calder (Artology)

Aphrodisia (Ancient Greek bathing festival of Aphrodite & Peitho)

Aristo (Positivist; Saint)

Beginning of Leo (Astrology; Pagan)

Contemplate the Cosmos Day (Pastafarian)

Dabius (a.k.a. Davies) of Ireland (Christian; Saint)

Edward Hopper (Artology)

James Whale Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Joseph of Tiberias (or of Palestine; a.k.a. Count Joseph; Christian; Saint)

Karl Marx Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Leo zodiac sign begins

Loch Ness Monster 1st Sighting (Everyday Wicca)

Markella of Chios (Christian; Saint)

Mary Magdalene (Christian; Saint)

Meneve, Abbot of Menat (Christian; Saint)

Neil Welliver (Artology)

Nohra (Maronite Church)

Pete Dexter (Writerism)

Ruthie Tompson (Artology)

S.E. Hinton (Writerism)

Tom Robbins (Writerism)

Vandrille (a.k.a. Wandregisilus; Christian; Saint)

Vaughn Bodē (Artology)

The Venusian (Muppetism)

Wandregislus (a.k.a. Wandrille; Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 14 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [14 of 24]

Premieres

At Your Service (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1935)

Back to the Shack, by Weezer (Song; 2014)

A Balmy Swami (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1949)

Bikini Beach (Film; 1964)

The Bodyguard (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1944)

Captain America: The First Avenger (Film; 2011)

Crazy Drivers (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1955)

The Daily Show (Late Night TV Talk Show; 1996)

Friends with Benefits (Film; 2011)

Gallipoli, by Alan Moorehead (History Book; 1956)

Green Lantern: Beware My Power (WB Animated Film; 2022)

Ice Age: Collision Course (Animated Film; 2016)

The Inverted World, by Christopher Priest (Novel; 1974)

The Island (Film; 2005)

Hollywood Sweepstakes (Color Rhapsody Cartoon; 1939)

It’s Hummer Time (WB LT Cartoon 1950)

Jaws 3-D (Film; 1983)

Join Together, by The Who (Song; 1972)

Jungle Jingles (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1929)

Lolita (Film; 1998)

Marnie (Film; 1964)

Midnight Run (Film; 1988)

Mr. Mom (Film; 1983)

Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1938)

My Aim Is True, by Elvis Costello (Album; 1977)

Nope (Film; 2022)

North (Film; 1994)

Plan 9 From Outer Space (Film; 1959)

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Film; 1954)

Star Trek Beyond (Film; 2016)

The Subtle Knife, by Philip Pullman (Novel; 1997) [His Dark Materials #2]

Weary Willies (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1929)

Today’s Name Days

Magdalena, Maria (Austria)

Lena, Magda, Magdalena, Miglena (Bulgaria)

Lenka, Magdalena, Manda, Marija (Croatia)

Magdaléna (Czech Republic)

Magdalene, Maria (Denmark)

Leen, Leena, Leeni, Made, Madli, Magda, Magdaleena, Mall, Malle (Estonia)

Leena, Leeni, Lenita, Matleena (Finland)

Madeleine, Wandrille (France)

Magdalena, Marlene, Verena (Germany)

Magdalena, Magdalene, Magdalini, Markella (Greece)

Magdolna (Hungary)

Lena, Lorenzo, Maddalena, Maria, Marylena, Menelaos (Italy)

Margita, Marija, Marika, Marina, Marisandra (Latvia)

Dalius, Magdalena, Mantilė, Marija (Lithuania)

Malene, Mali, Malin (Norway)

Albin, Bolesława, Bolisława, Laurencjusz, Maria Magdalena, Milenia, Pankracy, Wawrzyniec, Więcemiła (Poland)

Magdaléna (Slovakia)

Magdalena, María (Spain)

Madeleine, Magdalena (Sweden)

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Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 204 of 2024; 162 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of Week 30 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 16 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Xin-Wei), Day 17 (Ding-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 16 Tammuz 5784

Islamic: 15 Muharram 1446

J Cal: 24 Red; Threesday [24 of 30]

Julian: 9 July 2024

Moon: 98%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 7 Dante (8th Month) [Aristo]

Runic Half Month: Ur (Primal Strength) [Day 14 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 33 of 94)

Week: 4th Week of July

Zodiac: Leo (Day 1 of 31)

Calendar Changes

  Leo (The Lion) begins [Zodiac Sign 5; thru 8.21]

[blairstales]

Healing Wells and Fairy Trees

Healing wells, which are springs or small pools of water thought to be magical, have a long history of tradition that dates back to pagan times.

“In pagan times, wells and springs were believed to be inhabited by a spirit or divinity, who caused the waters to have healing properties to those who drank of them or bathed in them, at the same time propitiating the divinity with an offering.” “The misty isle of Skye : Its scenery, It’s people, Its story” by Eneas Mackay, Stirling, (1927)

I am going to try to cover the basics of them as quick as possible, so please bear with me if I skip bits as I try to keep this post a reasonable length. If I miss a fact you love, please share it for everyone to read.

“Wherever there was a spring, there was life; where-ever there was life, there was a spirit; and each river and loch, each burn and tarn, each bubbling spring had its own deity. In some instances, this primitive guardian deity is found in animal form. Martin mentions a well at Kilbride, in Skye, with only one trout in it. ‘The natives are very tender of it,’ he says, ‘and though they may catch it in their wooden pails, they are careful to prevent it from being destroyed.’ In the well at Kilmore, in Lome, there used to be two fishes that were revered by the folk as lasg sianta, holy fishes.” The Silver Bough: Volume 1  by F. Marian McNeill (1957-1968)

It could be gathered that each holy well in Scotland once had a known spirit or fairy living there, but even the water itself was said to hold power. Jumping over running water was said to be protection from some unseelie fairies, and streams were often were the sites of important events.

“A bargain made over running water was indissoluble. It is the old calling of water as a witness. Lovers who desired to plight their vows with peculiar solemnity repaired to a burn, stood on opposite banks, dipped their fingers into the water, clasped hands across the stream, and so exchanged their vows. It was thus that Burns plighted his troth with Highland Mary.” The Silver Bough: Volume 1  by F. Marian McNeill (1957-1968)

Today, most the wells now go by the name of a Saint. As well as that, while they were mostly referred to as healing wells in the past, their function now is often described as “wishing wells.” There are exceptions to this, though, such as the Fairy Well in one of the islands of the Shetland that was said to often be visited by fairies who would occasionally switch it from water into wine,get drunk, and cause mischief.

As well as that, the trees or bushes which once held the offerings — most commonly a rag from your own clothes — are now sometimes known as wishing trees or fairy trees.

“When trees beside wells had rags hung on them as offerings, they would naturally be reverenced, as the living altars for the reception of the gifts.” Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs by James M. Mackinlay (1893)

(Tony Atkin / Strips of Cloth on the Cloutie Tree / CC BY-SA 2.0)

However, other wells had other traditions as well. There might not be a tree or bush at all, and could instead be a stone to place offerings on. Even the types of traditional offerings can change drastically.

“The Cheese Well, on Minchmoor, in Peeblesshire, was so called from the pieces of cheese thrown into it by passers-by as offerings to the fairies.” Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs by James M. Mackinlay (1893)

Historically, if possible, you would try to visit a well on a quarter day before the sun was up. Then, there would be a strict set of customs. Some common themes include

Walking three times around the well.

Silvering the water (throwing in a silver coin).

Thinking of your wish while drinking from the well.

Dipping your offering in the water.

Placing your offering at the designated place.

Leave before the sun comes up.

I would not recommend drinking out of a well today, as some have signs saying the water is no longer safe. Instead, there are fairy trees or clootie trees that still have the tradition of leaving a strip of cloth, but do not have a well attached to them. The most popular of these is likely the Doon Hill and Fairy Knowe.

NOTE

If you do visit one of these sites:

For Clootie Wells: Do not bring modern synthetic fabric, since it is hard on wildlife and can kill the trees over time. There are also regular cleanups at many sites dedicated to removing such harmful fabrics. Instead, bring a biodegradable fabric. Instead, bring biodegradable fabrics, such as 100% wool or cotton.

Coin Trees: Do not hammer hammer coins into trees. The original “wishing” tree on Isle Maree died from this, so people have moved on to other trees unrelated to the tradition. It might seem harmless, but the bark is the trees immune system, that people are hammering open. As well as that, most people us copper coins, which cause copper poisoning to the tree.

Coin Wells: Some wells do ask for a coin offering, but specifically a silver coin. Copper coins can cause copper poisoning to the fish.

Finally, please research the history of the area. Not all the healing wells ask for the same offerings, and yet many people ignore that; for example, tying offerings to random trees at a well that only has the traditions of coins. As I have said above, a well even has the tradition of cheese offerings, so not all wells are the same.

Despite this, some people have started leaving plastic toys, shoes, and more. If it’s not biodegradable, its not respecting the tradition, and can kill the site.