#scotch mist

[photocyclelog]

Weather not so good looking…

Photo: 22nd March 2025

[adventuresofalgy]

It had been blawin' a hoolie for 24 hours or more, with dense, driving Scotch mist smothering and drenching the wild west Highland landscape in its usual manner in these conditions, so rather than expose himself and his assistant unnecessarily to the battering elements, Algy decided to share this re-worked "blast from the past", for it would look exactly the same if he asked his assistant to photograph him being blasted in that old larch tree today…

As some of his most longstanding tumblr friends may recall, in the past Algy had decided that as there was no light to speak of anyway, he would maintain his cool and defy the gale by wearing his sunglasses, for they could hardly make his vision any dimmer on such a day. But unfortunately the weather paid very little attention to his protest, then as now, and simply continued to rush and roar…

As he contemplated the only-too-familiar scene yet again, Algy sighed and repeated:

O wind, why do you never rest Wandering, whistling to and fro, Bringing rain out of the west, From the dim north bringing snow?

[Algy is repeating the short poem O Wind, Why do you Never Rest by the 19th century English poet Christina Rossetti

[phonographica]

Scotch Mist - Alright (2023)

[a-h-87769877]

Videotape begins @ min 32:46

[spilladabalia]

Radiohead - Weird Fishes/Arpeggi (Scotch Mist version)

[autumnbell32]

My brain feels like it is on fire. But it’s fine, everything’s fine. I can’t tell if I’m entering another hypomanic episode or not but I’m not a fan of the fact that it has been happening a lot more.

[ravenplaylist]

July 3, 2023 - Around by Scotch Mist

[clumsiestgiantess]

Alright everyone, this prompt is done! I couldn’t help myself, or was just too cute a scenario

Whenever Sierra grumbled in that adorable way of hers, Scotch‘s heart simultaneously softened and sped up.  He loved her in a way beyond words, and as for the coming child — it was impossible to say who he loved more.  “Hungry again?” he asked softly, sliding gently to Sierra’s side.  She nodded, placing her hand over her rounded belly before glancing discreetly at him.  “I know you’ve already gotten me so much..”  With a small smile, Scotch slid her hands into his own, and this time her gaze alighted on his.  “Just tell me, sweetheart.  Whatever you want, I’ll go find it for you.”  A gleaming smile immediately brightened her features.  “Well, since you offered, it’s pickles and peanut butter this time.”  Scotch‘s face scrunched up at the thought.  “Hey!  You promised not to judge!”  He chuckled, “I didn’t say anything!”  Sierra smirked, giving him a light shove, “Your look said enough.”  

After a few goodbyes and a kiss, Scotch picked up his pack of supplies, and headed uncertainly out the door.  This was what put him on edge.  Both he and his wife are borrowers, a species of creature similar to humans — though their range of adaptations differs greatly from their larger, more well-known counterparts.  Their ears are slightly longer and rounder to pick up on acute noises, and their limbs are naturally double-jointed to give them better maneuverability while escaping danger.  However, their most noticeable difference is their height.  The average borrower only grows about four to five inches tall — six at the most.  To survive, many live off of what humans have, simply because it’s easier for them to steal what’s already been made then make it themselves.  Between fending off danger around every corner, and trying to stay hidden in a large and unforgiving world, making anything beyond necessities is only a fantasy for most.

Scotch shuddered at the end of his route through the walls.  He and his wife had more than a few scares over the last few years.  The old house’s cat was by far the most terrifying.  It was the reason they’d moved away, after all.  He and Sierra could barely consider themselves safe around such a dangerous creature, nevermind a child.  The layout of this new place still confused Scotch some, but he’d quickly put to memory the layout of the kitchen after all the times he’d come for yet another random piece of food.  What did she ask for?  Pickles and peanut butter?  He felt his face scrunching up a second time.  “I have to get into the fridge again?  Great.”  

The last time Scotch tried opening the fridge, it took him nearly all night.  A whole leverage system had to be set up just to pry it open.  Tired, but determined to get what his wife asked so sweetly for, he made his way down the kitchen counter, across the floor, and back up to the fridge.  From there, he had to set up the pulleys and whatnot to actually open the thing.  After that, he had to get in and out as quickly as he could — quite a tedious process.  The fridge sets off an alarm when the temperature rises a few degrees too high, meaning the door could only stay open for so long before attention was drawn to it.  If he really had to, Scotch figured he could leave the door open to give himself a bit more time to escape.  The humans would deal with it once he was gone.  

Neither borrower knew much about the humans of the new house.  They had only lived there a little less than a month.  From what Scotch had seen, there seemed to be only two of them, and at least one of them was always in the house.  Beyond that, they knew very little.  Not that it mattered much; a borrower wouldn’t be caught dead with a human so much as looking at them.  

With the fridge finally open, Scotch rushed into the frigid interior, scouring the shelves for a pickle jar.  Luckily, he found it quickly and began yet another ascent.  Using a handmade grapple — a trademark tool of all borrowerkind — Scotch pried off the lid and reached into the jar, knife at the ready.  THUD THUMP THUD  What?!  How-?  No!  The sounds of a human walking towards the kitchen startled Scotch so badly that he dropped his knife into the jar.  That was the least of his worries, though.  Haphazardly throwing the lid back on, he rushed to get out of the fridge.  Sure, he could hide in the racks upon racks of goods, but the human would undoubtedly close the fridge the moment they found it open, leaving him trapped inside.  There really was no other choice, he had to get out.

Winding up the grapple into his bag, Scotch hurriedly jumped down onto the shelf from the top of the jar.  This was a major oversight on his part.  The shelf was made of metal wiring, which left gaps in its surface.  They weren’t wide enough for a borrower to fall through, but a leg or an arm could certainly get stuck between them, and that’s exactly what happened to Scotch.  The footsteps only grew louder as he desperately struggled to free himself, but he could already tell that there wouldn’t be enough time.  The human would find him, and who knows what they might do then.

Scotch‘s heart stung at the thought of Sierra waiting for him back home.  How long would it take her to realize he wasn’t coming back?  She’d have to move again, alone.  And raise their child alone.  He couldn’t let that happen to her, he couldn’t.  But when it came down to it, there wasn’t much he could do to stop the inevitable.  The thought only worsened the pain in his chest.

In the blink of an eye, the refrigerator door was opened wider by someone who was easily thirty times Scotch‘s size.  The human’s eyes wandered sleepily through the contents inside, but when they landed on Scotch, they lifted wide open in shock.  “What the hell?!” Bryan yelped, jumping away from the strange creature in his fridge.  He regarded the little thing for an astonished moment.  It could be a weird mouse or rat, but it almost looked like…  No, it couldn’t be that, could it?  Bryan hesitantly reached for the thing, but just before his fingers made contact, a small choked voice rang through the kitchen.  “Please-  Please, don’t do this!  I- I have a wife and a child on the way; I’m begging you!"  

Bryan’s heart practically dropped out of his chest.  That-  It is a tiny person!  They have.. oh.  What does this little guy think I’m gonna do to him?  Slowly, Bryan moved his hand from the tiny person to the shelf where they were stuck.  Gently, he pressed their leg out of the wire shelving.  Scotch could only watch in frightened awe as the human freed him from the metal wires.  Very briefly, he thought the human might snap off his leg, but it wasn’t any more painful than it was when he got it stuck there to begin with.  Both beings stared at eachother in silence, confused and dumbstruck by the other.  They were both about the same age, and even wore almost identical expressions.  In a moment, the refrigerator alarm sounded, startling them both.  

“Here, let me.. let me close the door for a second.”  Bryan offered an outstretched hand to the smaller man, and he reluctantly climbed on.  Scotch didn’t quite trust the human, but he was afraid of being shut into the cold space, so he went willingly.  After closing the fridge, Bryan set him down on the island counter a few steps away.  He turned, glancing at the contraption still hanging from the refrigerator door.  “What were you looking for in there?” he asked questioningly.  Scotch stayed silent.  “I’m not mad if you’re taking things,” he amended, “I just wanted to know.  Maybe I could help get whatever it is you need.”  Scotch gawked up at the large human.  “You.. You would do that?”  Bryan nodded, “Why not?  What is it you want?”  “Well,” the borrower rubbed the back of his head nervously, “Pickles and peanut butter, for my wife,” he added.

To both of their shock, Bryan suddenly belted out a laugh.  “No way!  My wife gets the same craving!”  “You.. She’s..  You’re having a kid too?”  The human nodded enthusiastically, “I’m Bryan, by the way.  It’s nice to meet you.. tiny.. person.  Sorry if that’s offensive or anything, I just- I have no clue what you are, man.”  A relieved breath of air escaped Scotch‘s lungs.  The human, Bryan, didn’t seem nearly as malicious as he first thought.  Rumors are slow to pass around the community of borrowers, mostly due to their separated, secretive lifestyle.  However, that didn’t stop hundreds of variations of tortuous human stories from passing from household to household.  Humans are known by borrowers to be unnecessarily cruel and overly curious, but Bryan seemed more confused than anything else.

“I’m.. Well, I’m obviously not human, and that’s all you probably need to know.”  Bryan’s eyes narrowed in thought and Scotch hastily added “I- I didn’t mean to be rude!”  “Naw, that’s alright,” the human shrugged, “Clearly you guys aren’t very fond of us, though I don’t really understand why.  I know we’re obviously bigger, but I don’t think either of us have done anything very scary.”  Scotch sighed, “It’s just humans in general.  My wife and I moved in recently, so we haven’t had the time to learn much about you two, specifically.”  Another shock to the borrower: the human agreed with his secrecy.  “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.  I know a few people I definitely wouldn’t want to be, like.. five inches tall around.”  

Bryan returned to the fridge, grabbed a few different items, put them all down on the counter beside Scotch, then went to the pantry and pulled out even more.  “Here, take whatever you want, for your wife and you.”  “R- Really?” the borrower stuttered, amazed at the sheer amount of options spread out for him.  “Of course, dude!  It’s not like you can go to the grocery store and pick stuff up.”  A human pacifist was one thing, but a human who was willing to let a borrower take from them was unheard of.  “And you’re sure you don’t need any of it, yourself?” Scotch asked.  Bryan chuckled, “It's not like you’re taking the whole jar with you!  Just.. think of it as a belated housewarming present or something.”  

At that point, Scotch was shocked he was still surprised by the human.  “You mean we can stay here?  Usually we leave if someone sees us…”  “No, please stay!  I’m gonna need someone else to talk about dad stuff with!  I could introduce you to my wife, and maybe she can meet yours-“  “Woah, woah, one thing at a time!” Scotch cautioned, “Let’s just keep my existence a secret for now, ok?”  Bryan felt it was such an awkward topic between his friends, all of which weren’t even married.  Meeting someone in the same situation as him — or at least a similar one — was beyond exciting.  He couldn’t help it if he was rushing the borrower some.

“Alright, sorry.  You’re right.  I got a bit carried away there.”  Scotch stepped up to the pickle jar and peered in, finding his knife stuck in the middle of it.  “My uhh, my knife is actually in here.  I dropped it when you came over.”  Bryan dug in and pressed it between the tips of his fingers, dragging it back out.  Once that was taken care of, Scotch got to work slicing the tiniest bits of pickle to take back with him.  As he worked, he gestured to a few other items he thought he might need.  “Dude, will you be able to carry all of this?”  Scotch shrugged, “I have to stock up while I can.”  “Or you could just take it whenever you want,” Bryan offered, “I told you that you can have whatever.”  “It’s still a hike to get it, though,” he countered.  Bryan agreed.  “So, are you as nervous as I am?” the human asked after a brief silence.  Scotch glanced up at him.  “About.. what?”  “Your kid, man!  God, I’m kinda freaking out about mine!  They haven’t even been born, and I’m already having doubts whether I can raise them.  I don’t know..  Do you think I’d be a good dad?  It’s just.. a lot.”

Scotch stopped working for a moment.  Setting down his pack and tools, he turned to examine the human in front of him.  He couldn’t deny he’d been thinking very similar things over the last few months.  “Just don’t mess up and you’ll be fine.”  Both of them laughed loudly through the quiet house.  “I’ll sure as hell try.  When’s your kid-“  “Bryan?  What are you doing down there?  What are you laughing at?”  His wife called from the bedroom upstairs, still waiting for the bottle of water he’d promised to bring her.  “Oh shit; I forgot she’s waiting for me,” Bryan whispered quietly to Scotch.  “Nothing hon!  I just remembered something funny!  I’ll have your water in a sec!”  “Thanks!”  The moment his wife called back, he began gathering everything into his arms.  “I gotta put all this back now, but if you want anything else, feel free to get it.  I just don’t want to leave it all on the counter.”  Scotch nodded, “I think what I have is enough.  Thank you, though.  Honestly, I thought you were going to hurt me when you found me, for stealing from you”. 

Bryan gave him a saddened look.  “Naw, I wouldn’t hurt you!  But.. you are still staying here, right?”  “Yeah.  I don’t think you’re a big enough threat to have to move for.”  “Oh,” Bryan said with a tinge of shock, grabbing two water bottles from a package in the pantry.  “What was such a big threat you had to move here?”  Scotch shuddered, “The other humans bought a cat.”  “Geez, that’s definitely not good for the kid,” Bryan remarked.  “Well, I’m gonna head back to bed.  Good luck getting everything back.”  Scotch scoffed, “The bigger problem is going to be hiding it all.  I think my wife would be a bit suspicious if I came back with all this.”  Smiling knowingly, Bryan made his way to the hall leading upstairs.  “See you soon?”  Scotch nodded, hefting his back over his shoulder.  “I’m here practically every night.  Come down and talk about ‘dad stuff’ with me.  Or help me with the food.”  “Or both?”  “Or both.”  

Confirmation settled, Bryan headed upstairs and Scotch headed into the walls.  It had been a strange evening of events, but both were grateful for the companionship.  It was only a matter of time before the kids arrived, and Scotch had the feeling he would end up needing the human’s help with a few things.  Even if he didn’t, it was still nice having someone new to talk to.

[maltrunners]

Islay Mist 8 Year

Review by: The Muskox Islay whisky is unique. Once you catch the bug, you may not want to drink anything else. The problem with this (aside from missing out on all the gloriousness of unpeated whisky) is that Islay malts are getting more expensive by the day. If you need the peat but don’t want to pay single malt, is there any hope at a lower price range? Islay Mist has been around as a brand…

[photocyclelog]

Photo stop. Back to the wind (actual wind speed SSW 23mph gusting to 35mph - when rider is stationary. The effect when moving is substantially increased).

Photo: 26th March 2025

[adventuresofalgy]

A wild west Highland gale was raging on Sunday morning, just as the weather birds had predicted, and interminable waves of dense Scotch mist and rain were driving across in front of Algy's refuge beneath the tall bamboo screen.

Tucking himself back tightly against the bamboo stems, Algy was suddenly reminded of a poem. He agreed that he liked it when "stuff leaked" outwith the lines, with gashes of smudgy colour, but he also agreed with the ancient Greek poet Hesiod's advice "‘observe due measure; moderation is best in all things", and things, in his opinion, were getting a wee bit immoderate on this particular morning.

Pushing himself even further back into his shelter, Algy reflected that while he did indeed like to feel part of the place, the experience was undoubtedly a great deal more enjoyable on some occasions than on others… and recalling a sarcastic expression by Rizzo the rat, he muttered "Thank you for making me a part of this," as he tried to make himself vaguely comfortable while he waited for the storm to pass.

And staying inside the lines Is fine, but… I like it when stuff leaks… When the blue bird and the blue sky Are just one blur of blue flying, And the feeling of the feathers in the air And the wind along the blade of wing Is a long gash of smudgy colour. I like it when the flowers and the sunshine Puddle red and yellow into orange, The way the hot sun on my back Lulls me – muddles me – sleepy In the scented garden, Makes me part of the picture… Part of the place.

[Algy is thinking of the poem Colouring In by the contemporary English poet Jan Dean.]

[phonographica]

Scotch Mist - Sink Into (Your Love) (2023)

[gradienty]

Frosted Mint Scotch Mist (#ccfffb to #fff9d9)

[mariasont]

Laundry Day - A.H

a/n: 1000 words for 1000 followers!!!!!!!!! i am in complete disbelief honestly, you all are so amazing and im so thankful for each and every one of you <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

summary: hotch begins to notice a difference in the way his clothes smell, wonder why?

wc: 1k

Hotch had been wrestling with the unsettling notion that he might be ill, or worse he had a brain tumor, manifesting through phantom smells. Whatever it was, it had been driving him crazy because the persistent aroma was undeniably yours, his nanny. As much as he didn't to admit it, this would usually be a welcome scent, soft and florally, like he had just stepped into a flower field.

Today, however, the scent was nothing short of an irritant. Every fleeting whiff had him jerking his head up, expecting to see you standing in the doorway of his office. But you were never there, of course, which only intensified the frustration gnawing at him.

There it was again, and despite his better judgement, his gaze darted to the door, unfortunately only to find Morgan casually propped against the frame.

"Hey, boss, got a minute?"

The scent had momentarily clouded his focus, but he quickly regained his bearings and closed the file, giving a firm nod. "What's up?"

"We've got a lead on the case in Richmond," Morgan started, handing over a document. "Local PD spotted a vehicle matching the description of our unsub's."

Hotch took the file, fingers thoughtfully brushing his chin as he scanned the pages. Morgan stepped closer, his nose giving a slight twitch before he took a seat in front of the desk.

"You know, Hotch, I gotta ask," Morgan prodded, a sly smile spreading across his face in a way that made Hotch uneasy. Morgan wasn't known for his filtered comments. "You got a girl or something? It smells way too good in here for just paperwork."

Point in case.

Hotch's eyes flickered up from the papers. "What? No, I--"

"Come on, man," Morgan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't play coy with me. Whoever she is, she's got good taste. I think Savannah uses the same perfume."

Hotch clamped the file closed, his mind racing faster than he could keep up with. So for one, it wasn't just in his head which was a good thing. He could rule out a brain tumor. But on the other hand that leaves the question of why the hell he smells like his nanny?

It was all he could focus on all day, paralyzing his work capabilities, reducing him to a state of mere motion without meaning.

It wasn't until the office AC malfunctioned, and he found himself stripping off his jacket, did he discover the source of the floral scent. His own jacket. He inhaled it cautiously, feeling slightly perverted before quickly stowing it away in a drawer, slamming it shut to dispel the borderline inappropriate thoughts.

When he finally arrived home, jacket in hand, he headed straight towards the sound of your humming. Normally, he'd make his rounds--first to Jack's room, who was usually napping at this time, then to the kitchen for his nightly scotch, and finally to his home office. But today was different.

The jacket hung loosely over his forearm, briefcase now abandoned at the door as he made his way towards the sound of your voice. It was the damn scent that greeted him first, drifting from the laundry room, and then, finally, the sight of you.

But what caught his attention, besides you and your slightly too short skirt, was the undeniable evidence of you misting his clothes with your perfume.

He said your name, almost in a scolding way, which he quickly realized his mistake when you whirled around, gasping as the bottle slipped from your fingers, shattering on the tile floor.

"Don't move," Hotch commanded, heart racing as he watched the glass scattered around your bare feet.

He moved towards you, stepping over the glass, carefully scooping you in his arms and setting you safely on the counter. He then knelt down, gathering the broken pieces.

"Mr. Hotchner, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to sweep me off my feet." Your legs were dangling from the counter, swinging back and forth. He gave you a deadpan look, his eyebrow raised every so slightly. "You're no fun."

You pouted, attempting to slide off the counter, but his hand was on your ankle in an instant.

"Stay put," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. He sighed, collecting the last of the glass and tossing it before standing up straight. "Also, is there a particular reason my suits now double as air fresheners?"

"Mr. Hotchner, you wound me with your accusations," you said, hand over your heart, crossing your legs in a criss-cross apple sauce fashion.

You were going to be the death of him.

Hotch cleared his throat, willing his gaze not to dip in between your legs. "You're wearing a skirt."

"Oh whoops," you giggled, fixing your position.

"And for the record, I actually didn't accuse you, but your defensiveness and the fact that I caught you red handed tells me everything I need to know." He took a step towards you. "Care to explain?"

"I...um, wanted to make sure you're always fresh?"

"And you chose your own perfume for that?"

"How do you know it's mine?"

With a step that erased any remaining space between you, Hotch bent slightly, his nose near your collarbone. "It's hard to miss."

He took a step back, giving you room to breathe.

"I just wanted to make sure any girls on the street didn't get the wrong idea," you said, the corners of your mouth turning up.

Hotch let out a chuckle. "You do realize you're my nanny not my wife, correct?"

"Tomato, tomahto."

"Careful."

You swung your legs off the counter, standing up straight. "Any chance to buy me another perfume bottle? It was kind of expensive, and well, you know my salary..."

"No." It wasn't as firm as he wanted it to be and it only took him a second to give in, this happened a lot when it came to you, handing over his credit card. "Fine."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath

[jillraggett]

Plant of the Day

Friday 9 August 2024

This front garden has been seeded with an annual meadow mix of orange flowered Eschscholzia californica (California poppy) and Calendula officinalis (pot marigold, common marigold, ruddles, Mary's gold, Scotch marigold) which contrast with blue flowered Nigella damascena (love-in-a-mist) and Borago officinalis (borage, starflower), and dotted with the pink blooms of Agrostemma githago (corn-cockle).

Jill Raggett