#outlander iphone

[sgiandubh]

2023 or last week

That's not really matters', what is interesting is that Caitríona has a very high level of privacy in her movements or travels

She has a private life that is completely away from notice and attention, no press, no ordinary people, no fan who meets her by chance

Wow.. as if she had the invisibility power since 2019.

Dear Privacy Level Anon,

We're going to do things a bit differently, this time, with an audio answer. Nice to meet you, by the way:

For those who need a transcript, here goes:

'Your charade has very simple answers:

No Press? The Press would have to actually care or be sold a juicy tip/story, about that elusive B-lister who is such a compelling Claire Fraser (huh?) from Outlander ('wait a minute, that nice, secksay series around 2016, right?'). Press interest is, however, likely to immediately jump up, the minute she lands a better PR team and/or a part in a really relevant cinema project. Let's see what those two next movies bring, Anon.

No Ordinary People? Imagine you're Jane Doe (aka, an Ordinary Person), traveling from 🛫 London to 🛬Bangkok. Upon arrival at 🏯Suvarnabhumi Airport , while waiting in line for the notoriously looooong passport control (full profile pic included), you spot C (or S, or C and S, or C and S and Boos 1, 2, 3... 554). They vaguely remind you of someone. That someone could be anyone from a) your cousin Matilda's co-worker you have been briefly introduced to, three years ago; b) someone who looks like your homeland's host of 'Who Wants To Be a Millionaire' TV show (totally random example, here); c) someone who looks like that actress you once saw in that TV series which name you can't really remember. Ultimately, the fact that you are unable to put a name on that face really irritates you. Your feet hurt, you are sleepy, grumpy and you need to go to the bathroom ASAP (🚨🚨🚨🚨). Meanwhile, S and C kiss, Boo #456 is as unhappy as you and wants his blankie. Did I mention you need to use the 🚻 (somewhere far away from 🛃) ASAP? S and C 💋💋💋💋 some more. YOU NEED TO USE THAT TOILET AND YOU'RE STUCK IN THAT STUPID LINE. Boo #433 wants their mommy's attention NOW (🥹🍼🤦‍♀️), so you sympathize a bit ('what a cute 👶, just like his/her parents') but you are really focused on your 🧻problem. By the time you dragged your 🧳to the 🚕 area, in the thick, humid heat at Arrivals, you'd have forgotten everything about it, but remember every single second of your Passport Control Ordeal.

No Fan? Outside of these Tumblr/X/Instagram jihadist pockets, no casual 🪭 would probably ask for a pic, provided they remember the name of the series (it is really poor taste to go for it and candidly tell her/them something like ' oooh, I remember you from The Last Kingdom, such a wonderful series'). Out of those who still go for it, I bet the farm:

85% keep The Nice Pic tucked in their iPhones and just randomly share at the next school bake sale/corporate teambuilding/ Rotary Club meeting with random people saying random things like 'oooh, she's nice, wait a minute, wasn't she in The Last Kingdom'?

10% foolishly post on X or Instagram, to be immediately greeted by The Fandom Vigilantes, courtesy of alerts installed on their own iPhones: 'where was it/ when was it/was she alone/yes? why?/no? why and with whom/ what did she say/ did she say anything/ why didn't she say anything'. If, by a very probable misfortune, what you have to dish out does not click with the Greeting Committee's agenda, expect to be: a) treated like a 5 year old idiot or a tortured POW ('was she alone...? was she alone...? are you sure she wasn't alone...? ARE YOU SURE SHE WASN'T ALONE? ANSWER ME, WAS SHE ALONE?'); b) Caitsplained she is married to someone else and what you saw is an optical illusion; c) perhaps even forced to adjust your own narrative (maybe that 6′ 3" Viking was Tony McGill, after all? 😵). You immediately regret posting it on your public Social Media accounts, erase the pic and go private. By the time you do it (12 hours from posting), it would have been dutifully screencapped, in a middle of a full blown Fandom Skirmish.

5% know what Tumblr actually is (at a minimum) and/or are actively involved in its Fandom Subset. The minute they post is the start of just another Nagasaki episode. The DM inbox will explode with a rich array of pleas/insults/more Caitsplaining. Comments will range from the ecstatic to the revoltingly vulgar. And remember (LOL for weeks):

The Fandom will eventually never forgive you for sharing.'

[outlanderrepublic]

"Cuando me dijeron a quién habían elegido y que me enviarían las cintas de la audición, yo estaba en el auto, conduciendo de Phoenix a Santa Fe con mi esposo. Al no poder acceder a mi computadora hasta que llegamos a Santa Fe, busqué en Google “Sam Heughan” en mi iPhone.

Francamente, pensé que parecía extraño. Mide 6'3", eso está bien... cara muy cincelada, pero extrañamente cincelada, ¿y qué pasa con la frente grande y la barbilla hendida?!? Jamie no tiene un hoyo en la barbilla y su nariz no es tan larga, aunque es recta... y Dios mío, sé que queríamos a alguien que pudiera interpretar a una virgen de 22 años, pero este tipo no parece tener pelo en su trasero, y mucho menos en las partes colgantes... pero...

Me senté frente a mi computadora, mirando con cautela a través de mis dedos.

Así que aquí está, de pelo oscuro, con una camiseta gris de manga larga, y pienso: "Vaya, no se parece en nada a sus fotos de IMDB, en realidad parece bastante humano, eso es un alivio..."

Y cinco segundos después, Sam Heughan se había ido y estaba Jamie Fraser justo delante de mí. Verdadero. Sin disfraz, sin maquillaje, sin accesorios, nada más que pistas de un director de casting fuera del escenario, y... era él.

Hizo dos escenas. Primero, un enfrentamiento con Dougal, justo después de que Dougal se arrancara la camisa en la taberna.

“¡Que el diablo te lleve, Dougal MacKenzie! ¡No te debo eso! Ojos azules ardientes, hombros hinchados y… bam.

La segunda escena fue aún mejor; es la escena en la que Jamie le explica a Claire exactamente por qué está a punto de castigarla. Y lo tenía todo: paciencia, seriedad, molestia, paciencia, humor, amenaza, humor y... suficiente sexo para dejar boquiabierta a cualquiera con ovarios funcionales..."

Esto contaba Diana Gabaldon en su página, en noviembre del 2013 , en respuesta a las quejas  de las fans que querían que Chris Hemsworth fuera Jamie...

Ahora... ¿Nuestro ##KingOfTodo GROTESCO???? ¿En que pensabas Dianita??

#JAMMFesSAM

#11AñosQueSonTodo

#PichonDeJAMMF

#SamElGrotesco

#CastiversarioDelKingOfTodo

#SamHeughanEsElOne

#ComoNoAmarlo

#Outlander

#OutlanderFanMal

#OutlanderPasion

#OutlanderasInsaciables

#PoneleOutlanderATodo

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Sam Heughan has signed up to the celebrity dating app Raya in a bid to find love, MailOnline can reveal.

Despite being known for his role as the dashing Highland warrior Jamie Fraser in Outlander, the Scottish actor, 43, is yet to find his dream partner.

Sam, who was last seen enjoying a romance with Australian model Monika Clarke in 2022, has decorated his Raya profile with a slew of hunky snaps, and lists his main location as the UK.

MailOnline has contacted a representative for Sam Heughan for comment.

Raya is a private membership community that started out as a dating app, but has since become a platform for networking and social discovery.

A select few are chosen to be part of the 'elite community', with the waiting list to join the app said to be in the 'thousands' and 'not even 10 per cent of those who apply get in'

It was launched in 2015, and can be used on iPhones and iPads for $9.99 a month.

Sam was previously spotted kissing Australian model Monika Clarke in 2022, and he was also romantically linked to Twin Peaks actress Amy Shiels in 2018

A select few are chosen to be part of the 'elite community', with the waiting list to join the app said to be in the 'thousands' and 'not even 10 per cent of those who apply get in'.

Other names thought to have signed up include F1 star Lewis Hamilton, actor James Norton and footballer Jude Bellingham.

Before that he was romantically linked to Into The Woods actress MacKenzie Mauzy in 2017 before they split quietly the next year, and also previously dated Cody Kennedy and Abbie Salt as well.

In May 2023, Sam shared rare insight into his love life by admitting he's still looking for 'The One.'

He told People: 'I've done all of the gift-giving and turning up when least expected, but, so far, I'm still looking.'

He has starred on Starz series Outlander throughout its run, with the second half of its seventh season set to premiere in November 2024.

Sam was previously spotted kissing model Monika two years ago, and he was also romantically linked to Twin Peaks actress Amy Shiels in 2018.

Before that he was romantically linked to Into The Woods actress MacKenzie Mauzy in 2017 before they split quietly the next year

Despite being known for his role as the dashing Highland warrior Jamie Fraser in Outlander (pictured), Sam admitted in May he is yet to find his dream partner.

Outlander is a historical drama television series based on the ongoing novel series of the same name by Diana Gabaldon.

It is centered around an English combat nurse named Claire Randall (Catriona Balfe) from 1945 who is mysteriously swept back in time to 1743.

Last year, Sam also starred opposite Poldark's Eleanor Tomlinson in the steamy Channel 4 drama The Couple Next Door.

The series saw Evie and her husband Pete (Alfred Enoch) moving into an upscale neighbourhood, where they met next door neighbours cop Danny (Sam) and his wife, glamorous yoga instructor Becka (Jessica De Gouw).

As time goes on, these two couples get increasingly close to each other and one fateful night, become sexually entangled in a way that will change their lives forever.

During filming, Eleanor and Sam worked with intimacy coordinator Vanessa Coffey.

Prior to filming, the pair also knew each other through their mutual friend Caitríona Balfe, who plays Jamie's wife, Claire, in Outlander.

Eleanor previously told The Radio Times: 'Sam is now one of my best friends. Every day was a joy and creating Danny and Evie’s complicated and dangerous relationship was a lot of fun.

'It’s a real treat to work alongside such a supportive co-star but to leave a job with a best friend is pretty rare.'

Raya

Laura Fox UK Associate Showbusiness Editor. mailonline.co.uk.

Oops! Old news SH has been on Raya for a while and still can't find what he’s supposedly looking for 😬 One-night -stand with MC a date? If after breakfast He didn't see her again. A casual first night doesn't mean a date on the table. No one had ever mentioned this to the journalist 😂

Posted 11th April 2024

[p-redux]

I’m not saying you or anons are wrong, just posing an alternative hypothesis that fits the data points. I do agree post in French is a smidge off, linguistically. What if anon is CM, and she is stalking SH and planting these things herself to achieve notoriety or maybe finagle a meeting. (Hey we are rumored to be dating so let’s go on an actual date 😉) and yeah, full disclosure, I’m still sad about KE - the yenta in me thought they were perfect.

The English translation was from Google because I was going to bed and too tired to translate it myself. The Anon's French is perfectly fine French. I lived in Paris, I speak French. Please tell me where "linguistically" it is not from someone who speaks French. Also, if it's someone who is trying to pass off as French, wouldn't they have used a translation app and made sure their French was perfect? Or, written in English and said their English wasn't good?

I have an IP app that tells me people's IP addresses, the cities from where they're sending me Anons, if it's a real IP or a VPN, the electronic device they're using, and how many times they've visited my blog. The 3 Anons I've gotten about Chloé are all from different IP addresses, using 3 different devices. This last one was from Paris, France like I posted. So, unless one Anon has 3 different devices they're using to send me Asks AND they are both an Android and iPhone user, these are NOT the same person.

As far as Anon being Chloé, c'mon now, that's ridiculous. For that to be true, Chloé, who is busy always traveling the world and has a LIFE full of fashion, food, friends, would have had to somehow find my blog, be so obsessed with Sam and so fucking immature at age 31, to then send an Outlander gossip blog a plant about herself with Sam? Read how dumb that sounds. Chloe comes from money, she has a ton of connections, if she wanted a "meeting" with Sam all she would have to do is hit up one of her friends who knows a friend who knows a friend and voilà. Mademoiselle Montana does not need to finagle any dates; they come to her. Trust.

Since both Sam and Chloé self-admittedly use Raya, the exclusive celebrity dating app, my money is that that's how they connected.

As for Karina Elle, I understand everyone has their favorite Sam ex-girlfriend/date, but that doesn't mean you need to subscribe to conspiracy theories. FACT: the Anon Asks I received about Sam and Chloé sightings in Paris a few months ago are all from different people. And they were all sent from Paris. So, unless there's 3 Parisians who decided to take time out of their insouciant la vie en rose Paris lives to try to pull the wool over my eyes, I'd file this under #samtana did happen. Oh, and also Chloé is not in Paris right now, so she couldn't have sent this Anon Ask. You referenced data points; there they are. Facts.

All of a sudden, I'm craving a brioche and a café au lait. à bientôt, mes amies. Bisous. 😘

[loveryss]

Tag 9 people you would like to get to know / catch up with

I got tagged by @memoirsofasim 🤗💜💜 thank you!

Last song: not counting the paw patrol songs I played for my kids..😆 the last song I listened to was Cigarettes & Feelings by The Haunt

Last show: at the time of getting tagged it was Queen Charlotte (the ending had me in tears!) but I’ve since then binge watched XO, Kitty. It’s a great show for background sound while crocheting

Currently watching: the 2nd season of Sweet Tooth

Currently reading: nothing honestly. Since switching my iphone to an android, all of my books are forever stuck in apple books... I'd like to continue reading Outlander which I have as physical copies in my bookshelf!

Current obsession: Zelda.. Breath of the Wild. It’s the first game I ever got on the nintendo switch but never played it 😆 I haven’t previously played any Zelda games but watching my boyfriend play the newest Zelda this last weekend made me want to finally get into it!

I feel everyone’s already done this but also, this is the kind of tag game you might have different answers for every few weeks. As always, don’t feel pressured by the tag! @cinamun @estah @simsdada @maxismade @biffybobs @apricote @kissalopa @pixelshary @woohooincoffin 

[meugamer]

Monster Hunter Outlanders da Tencent adiciona mundo aberto e chega para dispositivos móveis

Tencent oficializa seu Monster Hunter Outlanders que será lançado para dispositivos móveis nos smartphones com sistema operacional Android e iOS. #monsterhunter #tencent #capcom #mobile #android

Parece que a Capcom não conhece limites para os caçadores de criaturas ferozes; após o aguardado anúncio de “Monster Hunter Wilds” ter ganhado data de lançamento, agora surge um novo título em parceria com a Tencent, intitulado “Monster Hunter Outlanders”. Você leu corretamente: o jogo será focado em dispositivos móveis com sistemas operacionais Android e iOS (iPhone/iPad). O desenvolvimento…

[readjthompson]

Happy Halloween, people. Here’s an all-new short story (© me, now), free to read.

Bayou Ma’am

by Jeremy Thompson

“Those bitches!” Claude exclaims. “Those lyin’, stinkin’, blue ballin’ whores! Makin’ us the butts of their jokes! Gettin’ us laughed at by everyone! We oughta find ’em and stomp their fuckin’ skulls in!”

“And how would we even do that?” I respond, focusin’ on my composure, compactin’ the shame and heartbreak I now feel into a teeny, tiny ball that I’ll soon entomb in my mind’s deeper recesses. “They said they’re flyin’ back to New York City tonight, to that precious little SoHo loft they wouldn’t stop braggin’ about. They wouldn’t have done what they did if they thought we might see ’em again.”

Andre says nothin’, unable to take his eyes from the iPhone he manipulates, alternatin’ between the Instagram profiles of two hipster sisters, to better appraise our debasement.

#bayoumen is the hashtag they affixed to photos they’d taken with us just a coupla hours prior, at the one bar this town possesses, which we fellas have yet to leave. They’d flirted and led us on, allowin’ me to buy ’em drink after drink and believe that maybe, just maybe, one or more of us would be blessed with a bit of rich girl pussy for a few minutes…or twenty. They’ve got relatives in the area, they claimed, and had just attended one’s funeral. Some black sheep aunt of theirs. A real nobody.

Finally, Andre breaks his silence. “Look at this, right here. They used some kinda special effect to give me yellow snaggleteeth. I go to the dentist religiously. Look at these veneers.”

Barin’ his teeth, he reveals a mouthful of perfect, blindin’-white dental porcelain.

“Yeah, and they made Claude’s eyes way closer together than they really are and gave ’im a unibrow,” I say. “And they gave me a neckbeard and a fiddle. Look pretty real, don’t they?”

“Look at all the likes they’re gettin’. Thousands already. Everyone’s crackin’ jokes on us, callin’ us inbreds and Victor Crowleys, whatever that means. Look, that bitch Marissa just replied to someone’s comment. ‘Those bayou gumps were so cringe, we’re lucky we didn’t end up in their gumbo,’ she wrote. Fuck this. I’mma give ’er a piece of my mind.” A few minutes later, after much furious typin’, Andre adds, “Well, now she’s blocked me. Probably never woulda told us their real names if they knew that we’re on social media.”

Indeed, outlanders often make offensive assumptions when learnin’ of our bayou lifestyles. Hearin’ of our tarpaper shacks, they assume that we do naught but wallow in our own filth every day and smoke pounds of meth. Earnin’ a livin’ catchin’ shrimps, crabs, and crawfishes doesn’t appeal to ’em. They’d rather work indoors, if they even work at all. Solitude brings ’em no peace whatsoever. They care nothin’ for lullabies sung by frogs and crickets. Ya know, maybe they’re soulless.

I wave the bartender over and pay our tab. Nearly three days’ earnings down the drain. “Let’s get outta here, fellas,” I say. “It’s time for somethin’ stronger. There’s blueberry moonshine I’ve been savin’ at my place. It’ll drown our sorrows in no time.”

“Your place, huh,” says Claude. “We ain’t partied there in a minute.”

* * *

The roar of my airboat’s engine—as I navigate brackish water, ever grippin’ the control lever, passin’ between Spanish moss-bedecked cypresses that loom impassively, fog-rooted—makes conversation a chore. Still, seated before me, Andre and Claude shout back and forth.

“Bayou men aren’t fuckin’ rapists!” hollers Claude. “We’re not cannibals neither! I can whip up a crawfish boil better than anything those stuck-up cunts’ve ever tasted!”

“Damn straight!” responds Andre. “Bayou men are hard-workin’, God-fearin’, free folk! If they should be scared of anyone around these parts, it’s Bayou Ma’am!”

“Bayou Ma’am?!” I shout, as if that moniker is new to my ears. “Who the hell’s that…some kinda hooker?!”

“Hooker, nah!” attests Claude. “She’s a…whaddaya call it…hybrid! Half human, half alligator, mean as Satan his own self!”

“I heard that a gator was attackin’ a woman one night!” adds Andre. “Then a flyin’ saucer swooped down from the sky and grabbed ’em both wit’ its tractor beam! Somehow, the beam melded the gator and his meal together all grotesque-like! The aliens saw what they’d done and wanted none of it, so they abandoned Bayou Ma’am and flew elsewhere!”

“I heard toxic chemicals got spilt somewhere around here and some poor teenager swam right through ’em!” Claude contests. “She was pregnant at the time! A few months later, Bayou Ma’am chewed her way right on outta her!”

“Damn, that’s fucked up!” I shout, well aware of the grim reality lurkin’ behind their tall tales.

* * *

Bayou Ma’am is my cousin, you see. As a matter of fact, she was born just seven months after I was, in a shack half a mile down the river from mine. Her mom, my Aunt Emma, died in childbirth—couldn’t stop bleedin’, I heard. Maybe if they’d visited an obstetrician, things would’ve gone otherwise.

My aunt and uncle were reclusive sorts, and no one but them and my parents had known of her pregnancy. There aren’t many residences this far from town, and none are close together. It’s easy to disappear from the world, to eschew supermarkets and restaurants and consume local wildlife exclusively. Uncle Enoch buried Aunt Emma in a private ceremony and kept their daughter’s existence a secret from everyone but my mom and dad. Even I didn’t meet her until we were both four.

One day, a pair of strangers shuffled into my shack—which, of course, belonged to my parents in those days, up ’til they moved to Juneau, Alaska when I was sixteen, for no good reason I could see.

“This is your Uncle Enoch,” my dad told me, indicatin’ a goateed, scrawny scowler. “And that’s his daughter, your cousin Lea.”

Though itchy and bedraggled, though dressed in one of Uncle Enoch’s old t-shirts that had been refashioned into a crude dress, Lea sure was a cutie. Her eyes were the best shade of sky blue I’ve ever seen and her hair was all golden ringlets. Shyly, she waved to me with the hand she wasn’t usin’ to scratch her neck.

The two of ’em soon became our regular visitors. I never took to my perpetually pinch-faced Uncle Enoch, with his persecution complex and conspiracy theories shapin’ his every voiced syllable. Lea, on the other hand, I couldn’t help but be charmed by. She had such a sunny disposition, such full-hearted character, that I was always carried away by the games her inquisitive, inventive mind conjured. Leavin’ our parents to their serious, sunless discussions, we hurled ourselves into the vibrant outdoors and surrendered to our impish natures.

“I’m a hawk, you’re a squirrel!” declared Lea. Outstretchin’ her arms, she voiced ear-shreddin’ screeches, and chased me around ’til we both collapsed, gigglin’. “Whoever collects the most spider lilies wins!” she next decided. “The loser becomes a spider! A great, big, gooey one! Yuck!”

We skipped stones and spied on animals, learned to dance, cartwheel and swim. We played hide-and-seek often, with whichever one of us was “it” allowed to forfeit the game by whistlin’ a special tune we’d improvised. It was durin’ one such game that Lea made a friend.

“I’m comin’ to get you!” I shouted, after closin’ my eyes and countin’ to fifty. Our environs bein’ so rich in hiding spots, expectin’ a lengthy hunt, I was most disappointed to find my cousin within just a few minutes. There she was, at the river’s edge. Behind her, towerin’ cypress trees seemed to sprout from their inverted, ripplin’ doppelgangers. So, too, did Lea seem unnaturally bound to her watery reflection, until I stepped a bit closer and exclaimed, “Get away from there, quickly! That’s a gator you’re pettin’!”

Indeed, we’d both been warned, many times, to avoid the bayou’s more dangerous critters. Black bears and bobcats were said to roam about these parts, though we’d seen neither hide nor hair of ’em. Snakes flitted about the periphery, never lingerin’ long in our sights. We’d seen plenty of gators swimmin’ and lazin’ about, though. As long as we kept our distance and avoided feedin’ ’em, they’d leave us alone, we’d been told.

“Oh, it’s just a little one!” Lea argued, scoopin’ the creature into her arms and plantin’ a smooch on his head. “A cutie-patootie, friendly boy. I’m gonna call ’im Mr. Kissy Kiss.”

I studied the fella. Nearly a foot in length, he was armored in scales, dark with yellow stripes. Fascinated by his eyes, with their vertical pupils and autumn-shaded irises, I stepped a bit closer. Mr. Kissy Kiss’ mouth opened and closed, displayin’ dozens of pointy teeth, as Lea stroked him.

“Well, I guess he does seem kinda nice,” I admitted. “I wonder where his parents are.”

“Maybe his mommy and daddy went to heaven, and are singin’ with the angels,” said Lea.

“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” I mockingly singsonged.

Suddenly, a strident shout met our ears: my mother callin’ us in for lunch. Carefully, Lea deposited Mr. Kissy Kiss onto the shoreline. He then crawled into the water—never to return, I assumed.

Boy, was I wrong. A few days later, I found Lea again riverside, feedin’ the little gator a dozen snails she’d collected—crunch, crunch, crunch. A week after that, he strutted up to my cousin with a bouquet of purple petunias in his clenched teeth.

“Ooh, are these for me?” Lea cooed, retrievin’ the flowers and tuckin’ one behind her ear. “I love you so much, little dearie,” she added, strokin’ her beloved until his tail began waggin’.

Their visits continued for a coupla months, until mean ol’ Uncle Enoch caught us at the riverside as we attempted to teach Mr. Kissy Kiss to fetch. Oh, how the man pitched a fit then.

“No daughter of mine’ll be gator meat!” he shouted. “Sure, he’s nice enough now, but these bastards grow a foot every year! By the time he’s eleven feet long and weighs half a ton, you’re be nothin’ but a big mound of shit he left behind.” Seizing Lea by the arm, my uncle then dragged her away.

When next we did meet, a few days later, my cousin wasted no time in leadin’ me back to the riverside. “Where are you, Mr. Kissy Kiss?” she wailed, until the little gator swam from the shadows to greet her. Sweepin’ him into her arms, she said. “Let’s run away together, right this minute, so that we’ll never be apart.”

“Oh, that’s not such a great idea,” a buzzin’ voice contested. “Little girls go missin’ all the time and their fates are far from enviable.”

“Who said that?” I demanded, draggin’ my gaze all ’cross the bayou.

“’Tis I, Lord Mosquito,” was the answer that accompanied the alightin’ of the largest bloodsucker I’ve ever seen. Its legs were longer than my arms were back then. Iridescent were its cerulean scales, glimmerin’ in the sun.

“Mosquitos don’t talk,” I protested.

“They do when they were the Muck Witch’s familiar. Now she’s dead and I’m free to fly where I might.”

“I ain’t never hearda no Muck Witch.”

“And she never heard of you. That’s the way of southern recluses. Still, such is the great woman’s power that she grants wishes even now, from the other side of death. The Muck Witch’ll ensure that you never part with your precious pet, little Lea, just so long as you follow me to her grave and ask her with proper courtesy.”

Well, I’d been warned about witches and the deceitfulness of their favors, so I attempted to drag Lea back to my shack, away from the bizarre insect. But the girl fought me most ferociously, clawin’ flesh from my face, so I ran for my parents and uncle instead.

By the time the four of us returned to the riverside, neither girl nor gator nor mosquito could be sighted. We searched the bayou for hours, shriekin’ Lea’s name, to no avail.

A few weeks later, after we hadn’t seen the fella for a while, my parents dragged me to my uncle’s shack, so that we might suss out his state of mind and offer him a bit of comfort.

“I found her,” Uncle Enoch attested, usherin’ us into his livin’ room, which was now occupied by a large, transparent tank.

Atop its screen lid, facin’ downward, were dome lamps that emanated heat and UVB lightin’ from their specialized bulbs. Silica sand and rocks spanned its bottom, beneath a bathtub’s wortha water. At one end of the tank, boulders protruded from the agua. Upon ’em rested a terrible figure. If not for the recognizable t-shirt she wore, I’d never have surmised her identity.

“Luh…Lea?” I gasped. “What in the world has become of ya?”

Indeed, though Lea had wished to always be with her beloved gator, I doubt that she’d desired for the creature to be merged with her, to be incorporated into Lea’s very physicality. Patches of scales were distributed here and there across her exposed flesh. Her beautiful blue eyes remained, but her nose and mouth had stretched into an alligator’s wide snout, filled with many conical teeth. And let’s not forget her long, brawny tail.

After our initial shock abated and dozens of unanswerable questions were voiced, my parents took me home. Never again did they return to my uncle’s shack, but a dim sense of familial obligation had me comin’ back every coupla weeks, to feed Lea local muskrats and opossums I’d captured, and help my uncle change her tank’s shitty water.

The years went by, and Lea moved into a succession of larger tanks. Eventually, she grew big enough to wear her mother’s old dresses, seemin’ to favor those with floral patterns.

Finally, just a coupla months ago, I arrived at the shack to find Lea’s tank shattered. Torn clothin’ and scattered bloodstains were all that remained of Uncle Enoch, and my cousin was nowhere to be seen.

Not long after that, the Bayou Ma’am sightings began, which vitalized increasingly outlandish rumors and the occasional drunken search party. Luckily, no one has managed to photograph or film Lea yet, as far as I know.

* * *

At any rate, back in the present, I cut the airboat’s engine, leavin’ us driftin’ along our twilight current. It takes a moment for our arrested momentum to register with Claude and Andre, then both are bellowin’, askin’ me what the fuck’s goin’ on.

Rather than voice bullshit answers, I whistle the special tune my cousin and I improvised all those years ago, again and again, to ensure that I’m heard.

Moments later, Lea bursts up from the water, wearin’ a floral dress that had once been red-with-white-lilies, before the bayou muck spoiled it. In the fadin’ light, blurred by her own velocity, she could be mistaken for a primeval relic, a time-lost dinosaur of a species hitherto unknown. But, as her nickname had been so freshly upon their lips, both of my passengers, nearly synchronized, cry out, “Bayou Ma’am!”

Whatever the fellas might’ve said next is swallowed by their shrieks, as Lea tackles Andre out of his passenger seat while simultaneously swattin’ Claude across the face with her tail. The latter’s nose and mouth implode, spillin’ gore down his shirt.

Attemptin’ to gouge out Lea’s eyes as she and he roll across the deck, Andre instead loses both of his hands to her snappin’ teeth. Blood fountains from his new wrist stumps as he falls unconscious.

Claude tries to dive off the side of my airboat, but Lea’s powerful mouth has already seized him by the leg, its grip nigh unbreakable. She begins shakin’ her head—left to right, right to left—until Claude’s entire right calf muscle is torn away and swallowed.

“Ah, God, that hurts!” he shouts. His eyes meet mine and he begs, “Help me! Kill the bitch!”

“Sorry,” I respond, comfortably perched in the driver seat, an audience of one, watchin’ Lea’s teeth tear through the fella’s arm, as his free hand slaps her snout.

After Lea’s mouth closes around Claude’s skull, my friend’s struggles finally cease. Not much is left of him now. All of his thoughts and feelings have surely evanesced.

Groggily, Andre returns to consciousness, only to find himself helpless as Lea tears away his pants and consumes his right leg, then his left. She takes special delight in dinin’ on his genitals, as is evidenced by her waggin’ tail.

Blood loss carries Claude’s soul away, even as Lea moves onto his abdomen.

* * *

I’ll miss Claude and Andre. Friends aren’t easily attained in the bayou and they were the best ones I’ve ever had. All of the memories we made together will be carried only by me now. When I’m gone, it’ll be as if those events never happened.

Perhaps I should say a prayer as I push what little is left of their corpses into the dark river, but all I can think to say is, “Farewell, cousin,” as Lea swims away, glutted. Does she even care that I sacrificed chummy companionship to help keep her existence unknown?

It’s tough as hell to fight a rumor, but I’m sure gonna try. I’ll say that Claude and Andre hitchhiked to Tijuana, cravin’ a bit of prostituta. No need to further enflame the Bayou Ma’am seekers. If many more of ’em disappear, it’s sure to spell trouble for Lea.

Perhaps my cousin’ll be captured one day, for display or dissection. Or maybe I’ll discover the Muck Witch’s grave and attempt to wish Lea back to normal. Is Lord Mosquito still alive? If so, can it be persuaded to help?

Whatever the case, I wasn’t lyin’ about that blueberry moonshine earlier. Lickety-split, I’ll be drinkin’ my way into slumberland, and therein escape familial obligation for a while.

[productsreviewings]

I spend lots of time listening to music from my iPhone or Android cellphone linked to any pair of wi-fi headphones or earbuds I am making an attempt for Tom's Information. For private listening, although, I discovered myself gravitating to wired headphones to listen to high-quality audio by means of a pair of analog cans. Though they're at present experiencing one thing of a renaissance, wired headphones are a distinct segment within the largely wi-fi world we reside in. Some manufacturers, like Sennheiser, nevertheless, proceed to supply a variety of conventional wired headphones, resembling the brand new HD 660S2 open-back headphones aimed toward audiophiles, with wi-fi variants just like the unimaginable Sennheiser Momentum 4 Wi-fi.From the uncompromising IE 600 in-ear monitor launching in the summertime of 2023 to the entry-level Sennheiser IE 200 introduced in January, Sennheiser's launch roster has just lately been stuffed with wired earbuds. (opens in new tab).How I improved my iPhone audio: DAC pleasure(Picture credit score: Astell and Kern)Wired has all the time overwhelmed wi-fi the place out-and-out sound high quality is anxious, however how do you join headphones or earbuds to a smartphone and not using a headphone jack?With nearly ruthless timing, I just lately obtained the Astell & Kern HC3 DAC/Headphone Amplifier — a USB-C plug-in machine that successfully boosts the audio high quality out of your cellular. I set about connecting it on to my iPhone's Lightning port (through the equipped USB-C-to-Lightning adapter) and plugging the IE 200 earbuds' braided cable into the DAC's 3.5mm headphone jack to see how they sounded.I've tried varied DACs with my iPhone earlier than, however the AK HC3 is essentially the most inexpensive. It is also actually neat, and the one factor I would wish to see is that the USB-C-to-Lightning adapter can often lose contact with the iPhone port and cease playback. It is undoubtedly a fragile system, and my iPhone and DAC wanted to be positioned on a flat floor to keep up the connection, however the audio positive aspects made it worthwhile.Regardless of the system's inexpensive price ticket in comparison with different moveable DACs and wired headphones, the sound from the AK HC3 and Sennheiser IE 200 combo sounds a lot better than their mixed $379 price ticket. The stereo soundstage was completely balanced to my ears, and there was an incredible sense of acoustic house across the devices they usually have been finely expressed wherever they have been within the combine or frequency vary. I've discovered some wi-fi earbuds are likely to current music that feels superior in some methods, however the Sennheiser and Astell & Kern combo does the enterprise of delivering music as naturally as attainable.Listening to "Outlands" by Daft Punk / Hans Zimmer from the film Tron The DAC and earbuds advised me all the things I wanted to know concerning the frequency vary, whereas the guitar enjoying on Pat Metheny's "Cinema Paradiso (Principal Theme)" confirmed me how the combo connects with my favourite music. It is definitely not flawless and there is some bass frequency suppression on some tracks, however I would wager that the combo outperforms equally priced over-ear headphones when it comes to ranges of hi-fi sound engagement. Whereas I felt the combo improved the sound of compressed music streams from Spotify, all through my listening classes I discovered myself gravitating to lossless downloads through Tidal. The music I wish to hearken to right here has extra depth and element, and the tracks in my very own rigorously curated playlist take me nearer to the high-quality studio sound I want. And I bargained for lower than that. What's a DAC?In the event you've by no means heard of DAC, don't be concerned; You aren't alone. Merely put, a DAC is a 'digital-to-analog converter' that, because the identify suggests, takes a digital audio sign (from the likes of a music streaming service, say) and converts it to an analog one.

You see it is analog alerts, not digital, that drive the audio system contained in the audio machine you are listening to So some conversion has to occur between the digital music file you are enjoying and the audio sign served up by the analog-powered audio system that attain your ears. DACs are present in every kind of audio playback units, together with the most effective telephones, the most effective laptops, and the most effective tablets, however including a standalone DAC will all the time make it sound higher. Chances are you'll surprise how an add-on DAC can enhance the audio efficiency of a digital machine when the digital sign conversion inside no matter playback machine your headphones are plugged into is effectively taken care of by the DAC. The factor is, music would not all the time sound that good with built-in DACs on many units, and including a top quality DAC like Astell & Kern's AK HC3 will make for a greater audio expertise for high quality audio followers and music lovers alike. LikewiseExtra from Tom's InformationNonetheless contemplating going wi-fi? Here's a checklist of causes to make you rethinkMost of the finest audiophile headphones are (or may be) wired for uncompromised sound high quality. In the present day's finest Sennheiser IE 300 offers

[abyssalborough]

So I’m going to throw my two cents in, but this is all speculation as well;

• I imagine it’s still hours/minutes/seconds, though perhaps “seasons”? “Moons”?i wonder if they have leap years

• I don’t think they’re shapeshifters per se, but I do think that it’s a magical ritual/spell that shifts their form, powered by the stone. Perhaps there’s expectations in certain boroughs to change your shape to accommodate your work? Mystic breeds are probably not much different like… I imagine a prancer vs a snow foot wouldn’t be treated much different aside from accommodations due to size. I also think the cats named the breeds themselves.

• I absolutely think it’s a globe and I think one of the abyssal leaders was the first to circumnavigate it.

• I’m sure every borough has their own myths and legends- and some may share some similarities… with oral tradition, it’s common for things to be changed over time, so I imagine that like; perhaps Sol has a legend about a great explorer- this cat is a snowfoot, who braved the outer rings of the territory to map the entire area, to make it safe to travel. Luna may have this same story, except perhaps it was a longhair, and perhaps he was banished, and turned his back on Sol society, mapping the outer areas to guide the other abandoned cats out and into the rest of the world. Same result (map of Sol’s outlands) but diff story

• there Are ABSOLUTELY specific idioms and sayings and certainly these are different between very distinct parts of boroughs (sol inner/outer, abyssal above/below); and if we don’t get these from canon I will be writing them myself

• I think the borders were simply much less distinct earlier, and not well-established; though consider that eye color of your kittens would make it pretty clear where you are, lol

• I think they probably lead the borough’s armies/defend the borders/negotiate with the other leaders? It’s possible in some areas (metro) that the leaders are just figureheads, puppeted by the real head of govt (the oligarchy of powerful buisnesscats). Each borough probably has a process for the leader stepping down/choosing an heir/being supplanted/ect

• sol: light, Luna: dark, zenith: wind, harvest: nature/earth, cog: fire, abyss: water, metro: I think metro’s is going to be less… distinct. Some sort of technomancy? I think they’ve always had the magic. I think it’s innate

• I think how this particularly works is up to the borough. You could technically replicate an iPhone given the tools but they have patents, you feel? It’s probably similar here.

• [i have Little to say about the rest, unfortunately :(]

i know we’ve only gotten appetizers in terms of lore for our beloved Boroughs and there’s a lot of conversations being had over on the Discord about missing gaps (e.g. music genre of each Borough, distinct breed adaptions caused by the climate/terrain of each Borough, etc.) but god i have so many QUESTIONS about Mewmoia like

• TIME! how do catfolk distinguish increments of time?? is it still seconds/minutes/hours/days/weeks/months/seasons/years? or do we get new words and groupings??

• because of the existence of Borough-named stones, are catfolk widely considered shape-shifters by proxy? is there an in-universe explanation for Domestic vs. Mystic breeds? or is it an everyday occurrence for catkind to register that Wysteria from Accounting is now a Prancer, so she’s moving desks to better accommodate her size? DO THEY KNOW THEIR OWN BREED NAMES???

• DO THEY LIVE ON A GLOBE??? DO CATFOLK KNOW??? CAN I SAY GLOBAL AFFAIRS???

Keep reading

[sassenachpetals]

Outlander Lockscreens

Lock screen dump time!! Part 1

All made by me. Please like or repost if you save!! ❤️❤️ Let’s spread the love!

[aes-locks]

[drunklander]

The Outlander panel is only an hour so maybe they’re not actually showing the episode. [x]

[tvsedit]

outlander

like or reblog

[rochibolettieri]

Shit, I have a lot to read 😬

[urlckscreen]

Ask for your own lockscreen and i made it right now guys! 🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️