#willie & peat

[xlunart]

public domain oc concepts i’ve been working on hehe. lmk if you have any questions abt them, would love to hear some feedback!

[mmmsimpsons]

Belle and Sebastian did a song for a new episode where The Simpsons go to Scotland and Groundskeeper Willie gets married to Maisie (Karen Gillan) via

[cyanocoraxx]

your centipedes are so cool, ive been wondering about how to start! do you have any resources/tips?

of course! bear with me here because there's a lot to go through

if you're going all out and want to get it perfect, you need: a plastic tub with a locking lid (ideally), a drill for making ventilation holes, tongs for feeding/maintenance, a water bowl, peat or topsoil, sand, gravel, and some bark for hides and decoration.

-- SPECIES --

"beginner" species: scolopendra polymorpha (#1 recommendation), scolopendra cingulata, scolopendra morsitans & ethmostigmus trigonpododus. these guys are relatively inexpensive, usually pretty docile, easy to care for, easy to find & have milder venom than the larger species! however, you can obviously keep any species you want and it's your choice. just do plenty of research first. as cute as they are, many of the other species are extremely venomous and lightning-fast and deserve respect. it won't help either of you if you buy a pede that terrifies you to care for. ):

⚠︎ venom ⚠︎: several scolopendra species are extremely venomous, including subspinipes, sp. malaysian tiger, and dehaani. and you do decide to go for one of the spicier land dragons you need to fully understand the responsibility it entails. an escaped centipede can harm not just you, but your other pets and family members. you need to be sure you can handle the risk not just to yourself but others. please thoroughly research bite reports of the species you're looking for before buying so you know what you're getting in to. <3 also invest in some tongs for general maintenance. don't go putting your hands in willy nilly or you get the bitey witey ....

-- SETUP --

enclosure: expect a true escape artist. centipedes cannot climb smooth surfaces like glass or plastic but they CAN push themselves up against the surface to their fully stretched body length and if they can reach the lid it's game over. they can also grip on to ventilation holes and push off of enclosure decor. you would need a plastic enclosure that is taller than your pede and substrate combined. i currently use these tubs for my larger pedes as they have locking lids with very small gaps around the edges.

above are my setups for astraeus and choso! they have ventilation around all sides. i also have velcro straps securing the lids as double protection just because I got paranoid when I first put them in their new enclosures, but now I keep them on anyway because I feel better that way sbdhnfjm

ventilation: cross-ventilation is ESSENTIAL. there's a lot of misinfo online about this. a centipede needs ample ventilation at the bottom of their enclosure on all sides to prevent stagnant air and gas buildup so you would need to drill a few rows of ventilation holes. also make sure they're not big enough for a smaller pede to squeeze out of, because they can and will if they can fit!

⚠︎ MYCOSIS ⚠︎ is a thing. it's essentially a fungal infection that centipedes can get in damp, stagnant conditions, and it starts out as black spots typically on the legs and antennae. keeping a pede too wet with little or no ventilation just spells out disaster. don't be tempted to over-spray a pede's enclosure. if a pede does get mycosis, it can molt of out it if its enclosure is allowed to dry out more.

HOWEVER! the more ventilation you add and the less you spray, the higher the risk of desiccation (drying out). this is where it gets a little tricky. there needs to be a balance between the setup being too wet and too dry. best way to combat this is to keep one side damp and the other dry whilst providing a water dish. this way the pede can choose if it wants to be damp or dry.

above is astraeus modelling the substrate in their enclosure. they have a mix of sedge peat, desert sand, and gravel. they're leaned up against their fav piece of cork bark here too, where they spend the entire day before coming out at night.

substrate: this depends on the species you pick, but most pedes do well on a mixture of peat/topsoil and sand. mix gravel in as well as they like to move it around. the internet says to use coco fiber. DON'T!!!! pedes ingest some substrate when they eat their food and the fibers from coco coir will cause impaction and death.

-- DIET --

food: live prey includes gut-loaded crickets, locusts, superworms, and roaches. centipedes reach their maximum sizes most often when fed a varied diet. you can include raw meats (no fat!), shrimp, low-copper cat food and even fruits from time to time. most pedes aren't too picky and will eat whatever they can get their forcipules in to :P akaza above eating a prawn for tax/proof!

centipedes are opportunistic. they can eat large prey items and then go a long time without eating. every week is fine for an adult.

be sure to remove uneaten food to prevent the build up of gases and bacteria. springtails in the enclosure can help to minimize waste that is missed.

i think that covers it. maybe. i hope ASDFG

TOO LONG DIDN'T READ VERSION:

mix of peat/topsoil and sand

no coco fiber.

one side damp one side dry

water dish

wood for hides/decoration

tongs for feeding/maintenance

varied diet

cross-ventilation

most importantly, have fun. <3

(p.s. big thank you to the people of the chipotle centipede server for all their help and info as well, without them I wouldn't know half of this.)

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

It Happened Today in Christian History

August 30, 1900: Boxer rebels in China execute missionaries Willie and Helen Peat, their children and associates.

[scotianostra]

The 16th of February 1746 in what became known as the Rout of Moy,  Government forces under Lord Louden attempt to capture Prince Charles Edward Stewart at Moy Hall.

Around midnight on 16th/17th February 1746, Lord Loudon, the Commander of the Hanoverian forces in the north, mustered 1500 troops from the Inverness Garrison and set off on the twelve mile march south along General Wade’s Road to Moy in a bid to capture Prince Charles Edward Stuart. The prince, a guest of Lady Anne Mackintosh (Colonel Anne) at Moy Hall, had arrived with a small guard of 50 men, some distance ahead of his retreating Highland Army.

Pitch darkness interspersed with flashing lightning slowed and unsettled the marching men.

Watching the road here, 3 miles from Moy Hall, was an ‘outer guard’ of just five Jacobites led by Donald Fraser, the Moy Blacksmith. He had chosen a spot where he could observe movement on the skyline to the north in darkness, and where he had cover to the south in daylight. Nearby to the east, peat stacks remained out on the moor. Here he planned to harass, and perhaps deceive, the enemy.

As the Hanoverian Column, spearheaded by the Laird of MacLeod and his men approached in the darkness, they were surprised by sudden musket fire and loud war cries urging clansmen to battle. Even the peat stacks threatened in the flashing lightning. Convinced that the whole Highland Army was at hand, Loudon’s men turned in panic and fled back to Inverness, somehow carrying off the body of Donald Ban MacCrimmon, Piper to MacLead and the only fatality of the night. A premonition of his imminent death had been realised.

This skirmish took place two months prior to the Battle of Culloden. Donald Fraser died in 1804 and lies buried in Moy Churchyard.

The above information is displayed at the Cairn.

On the cold, dull but dry afternoon of Saturday l6th April, a sizeable crowd of over 200 people attended the unveiling of a new cairn making the site of the skirmish known as “The Rout of Moy”.

This event was organised mainly by Donald MacAskill of Tomatin, James Ingram of Aberdeen, and James and Elma Singer of Ellon, with valuable assistance from Brian Duff of Forest Enterprise. Building work was carried out by Murdo MacAskill, Fred Jamison and Willie MacAskill, all of Inverness.

The unveiling ceremony was preceded by a stirring demonstration of drumming skills by the Clann an Drumma (4 drummers and a piper) from Glasgow.

During the ceremony wreaths were laid in memory of Donald Ban MacCrimmon, and a one minute silence was observed.

After the ceremony Donald MacAskill thanked the following people for their participation:-

HRH Prince Michael of Albany for unveiling the cairn. Dr Seamus H Grant of Rothiernurchus for his address in Gaelic. Hector MacKenzie of Skye for his prayers. Judith Dyson of Kingussie for playing the lament. Kenneth Borthwick of Dundee for the musket salute.

Afterwards an appreciative large crowd enjoyed the hospitality of the Coleman family at the Tomatin Inn who provided welcoming plates of soup and stovies. Music was provided by Clann an Drumma, Judith Dyson, James Home, Fred Jamison and Andy Shaw. It was a most enjoyable day which will long be remembered by those present.

[victusinveritas]

Patrick Pearse spent much of the last summer of his life (1915) in Rosmuck, Connemara with his brother Willie and a friend named Desmond Ryan.

It was a relaxed holiday although Pearse found the time to write one of Ireland's most famous speeches - 'Ireland unfree shall never be at peace,' spoken at the graveside of O'Donovan Rossa and considered by many as a key moment in the lead up to the Easter Rising.

Ryan recalled the summer fondly:

"The next day we proceeded to Rosmuck by train, or rather part of the way, for Rosmuck lies nine miles from a railway station, and we had a long drive by side-car through granite and peat from Maam Cross Station over winding, peak-screened roads.

It was a stirring view along those serpentine roads, ever winding and twisting to avoid the bog.

The horse trotted bravely while an O’Malley drove, and Pearse explained what famous people the O’Malleys were in Connemara.

All the while, bluish granite mountains soared and all around spread the peat-bogs starred by the tiny lakes, each with a local name and every name known to Pearse, who declared for the hundredth time he could find his way blindfold on any road in Connacht.

The Twelve Bens came in sight and Pearse waved his hand here and there over the land, naming lake, mountain and district away to the Joyce Country under its purple mist.

He told us many stories he had learned from the people.

Away there on that gloomy mountain yonder a stranger had lived for years, coming suddenly in the night from nowhere, henceforth a hermit, perhaps doing a penance of solitude and silence for some deed of blood.

We passed a peculiar green building of corrugated iron, a Protestant Church, [Screebe?] and then Pearse remembered that many years before the Bible Societies had carried out a proselytising campaign, and even in 1915 a small remnant of the Irish-speaking Protestant colonies still survived.

Once on his rambles, Pearse had met one of the members, an old man up in a cottage among the hills who opened his Gaelic Bible, read it aloud and argued with Pearse for an hour until the old man’s daughter came in and told her father that he had no manners and that he did not know how to treat a learned man who knew enough Irish and enough Bible to make up his mind for himself, and the attempted conversion of Pearse went no further.

A lonely letter-box on a post at a crossroads led Pearse to tell of the extravagant family, long bankrupt and extinct, who had had the box erected as a monument to their exclusiveness, recklessness and pride.

A barracks rose beside the rattling wheels and Pearse knew that the sergeant within was a crusty and cantankerous fellow companioned by six splendid constables, enthusiastic Irish speakers who spent their time in shooting wild ducks, fishing and studying with zeal the poems of Eoghan Ruadh O’Sullivan.

The car stopped at the schoolmaster’s house and Patrick Connolly welcomed Pearse warmly. His wife came out too.

Inside like startled birds, the four daughters of the schoolmaster retreated from our gaze while their mother laughed and said they would grow out of all that, but when young people lived among lakes and bogs they became curlews and mountain birds, easily startled by wild young men from the cities and poets from Dublin, all this for Willie and me whose ties and locks must have startled her ducklings.

We proceeded to the cottage, a white, thatched, oblong building with green

door, porchway and two windows in front, approached by a peat-sodded path from the main road. Here was the spiritual home of Pearse, which in the last years he visited every summer to pay a last farewell.

Below lay a fifty-acre lake legend tenanted with a Water Horse.

Beyond the rare walls of the cottage, the Atlantic heaved and moaned with tales of lost ships or murmured a summons to ride on its bosom to the Aran Isles on a fair day.

On every side rose the purple hills and peat, agleam with unnumbered lakelets. Pearse sat at the kitchen table writing the closing tales in his book of short stories, 'The Mother.'

He turned aside to discuss the completed stories with Willie and me, and said he thought the best the grimmest one, a tale of a woman under a curse called the “Black Chafer.”

Then he sighed that he had never written a story about turf or shown up enough the

hard life of the people. He said this sadly with almost the air of a man who all at once comes upon an intolerable personal grievance.

Sometimes he went down and bathed in the lake while Willie guarded him from the banks with a long, strong rope as Pearse was no swimmer. This tickled the brothers so much that they gave up the attempt with loud merriment and mutual criticisms.

Returning, Pearse mused on his cottage and said that one of the builders had been an old man who took his task very slowly and seriously, making progress by inches, but consoling Pearse’s impatience with the sole remark:

“Won’t it be a fine house when it is finished. Indeed it will be a fine house when it is finished.”

Pearse was more outspoken than I had ever known him before.

Night by night he spoke to Willie and me about everything by turns.

Much about the future of the Irish language. Here in this self-contained community which he had once known as purely Irish-speaking, English was creeping in among the younger generation.

It amused him when we walked abroad in the day-time to speak to the men working

the land and smile at the English expressions speckling the Gaelic:

“Becripes, tá . . . bedamned but tá...' from those who knew no other words of English, but he said this was the beginning of the end unless some great change came.

And what the change would be sometimes broke through his thoughts...

Who could have guessed that behind his gentle words and look, an insurrection simmered, a certainty that his days were irrevocably numbered and in this place he would never see in another summer?"

Pictured above are Patrick Pearse and his brother Willie, neither of whom would live to see the summer of 1916.

Taken from Desmond Ryan's 1934 auto-biography 'Remembering Sion.'

All of this was taken whole cloth from The History of Connemara Facebook group.

[mediamonarchy]

#MorningMonarchy: December 8, 2023

#MorningMonarchy MP3: #December8, 2023 w/#MediaMemes/#DeepFocus + #ThisDayInHistory & #TruthMusic by #TheBoatrawker!

https://mediamonarchy.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/20231208_MorningMonarchy.mp3 Download MP3 Number Fever, the Jew Call and Willie and the Dream of Peat Bogs + this day in history w/Lennon killed and our song of the day by The Boatrawker on your #MorningMonarchy for December 8, 2023. Notes/Links: Video: Watters: You weren’t on Jeffrey Epstein’s jet were you? RFK JR: I was on Jeffrey Epstein’s…

[denimbex1986]

'...Bart stumbles upon the truth about the wedding– Maisie’s father (Doctor Who’s David Tennant) only wants to use Willie for his uncanny ability to sniff out quality peat...'

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS / 2.02

always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

'who the hell gave you permission to monkey around with my precious volumes?’

‘i have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘shit, he’s taken it up a notch.’

‘i didn’t do it. i haven’t even been in this room. i wasn’t even here.’

‘he’s been causing havoc in the household.’

‘____ doesn’t suck. and if he did, he certainly wouldn’t do it backwards.’

‘there’s no such thing as ghosts.’

‘my wife comes from the kind of town that believes in all this kind of superstitious nonsense.’

‘alright then, dr. arsehole, how does your science explain what we just saw?’

‘it can be one of two things: one, a mercurial zephyr. two, it’s a farrago of gasses, possibly from a peat bog.’

‘ghosts are the stuff of fairy tales. stories we tell children to frighten out their excess energy so that they might slumber more peacefully.’

‘i’m sorry, vampires are real, but ghosts are not?’

‘maybe it’s ghosts that are always stealing that one sock from the dryer.’

‘which reminds me, does anyone here have any updog?’

‘hey, everybody, look at my enormous crystal balls.’

‘did you get my joke about my enormous balls?’

‘sorry if my hands are a little oily. it’s from my rash cream.’

‘i think someone summoned a breakfast burrito.’

‘you have ruined the energy of the séance with your toilet potty poo-poo-mouth humour!’

‘well, it’s only been a few months since you died, but that’s...’

‘sorry, can i just stop you? it’s really weird with you down there.’

‘he was just doing his husbandly duties.’

‘i’ll, uh, just go back inside and leave you to, uh, talking to the air.’

‘there’s a fucking ghost on the front lawn.’

‘i pretended i couldn’t see it, which will give us the element of surprise.’

‘get ready to swallow my sword!’

‘you need to keep your voice down, otherwise that thing will hear us.’

‘i’m just here to scare you guys.’

‘my husband is shitting himself down the road.’

‘yeah, i’m not positive what my deal is either, so i just sort of keep on truckin’.’

‘if we are technically dead, like he says, could ghosts of us exist?’

‘got nothing underneath it by the looks of it.’

‘i can’t believe i’ve completely forgotten how to speak _____.’

‘you could have done one thousand things one thousand times, but what have you done?’

‘all you do is sit around this house with these two dumb men just talking about their willies and their arseholes.’

‘we did the same with the words.’

‘who was that pasty little piece of hummus?’

‘well, what can i say? i’m a ravenous little monster.’

‘you want to finish your final human orgasm?’

‘your meat hands, i’m convinced, would give me the traction for full sexual release.’

‘sometimes i would feed him nuts and berries from my own mouth.’

‘ah, darling, i seem to have got my crotch stuck in the taxidermy fox’s mouth again.’

‘so much toxic masculinity in the ottoman empire.’

‘see you again soon, you tasty little honeypot.’

[queenmolina]

Ray: there’s not many things you could be stuck in

Julie: elevators

Flynn: bad marriages

Julie: a peat bog

Alex: on a flight in the middle seat

Reggie: time loops

Willie: the bottom of a well

Luke: your own emotions

Reggie: quicksand

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You  Chapter 1 ~Sparks Will Fly~

Notes

Hey guys, I'm back with a Christmas Ficlet, "All I Want For Christmas Is You," starring our favourite couple, Jamie and Claire.

It won't be my usual long story, but it's my wee gift to my readership who'd been following my journey in writing and always encouraging me with their insightful comments and kudos. 

Please don't be disheartened when I don't always reply back to your comments, as I spend every spare time I have writing. When I'm not writing, I'm dealing with this thing called life and taking care of my loves. But I promise you, I always look forward to reading your feedback, and if you have any questions of any sorts, I will answer them. If you see any mistakes or you wish to impart something I'm doing wrong or give me some ideas, please bear in mind I welcome constructive criticism, and I welcome opinions. I would even thank you for it, and I promise you I won't take it personally. The reason I say this is because I wholeheartedly wish to improve my writing and what a better way when my readers can share their thoughts with me. 

Without further ado, I wish you all happy reading.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

James Fraser stepped into the pub followed by his older brother Willie. Although it was still early evening, there was already a small crowd all hyped up into a party mode. The multiple flat TV screens on the walls were showing world championship darts without the sounds. Instead, the speakers blared with Wham's Last Christmas song with the random interference from the resident DJ. While a handful of men milled around the bar holding their pints, the women sat at the table chattering animatedly and sipping long drinks and port. With Christmas Eve only two days away, there was a sense of excitement and goodwill in the air, typical of the festive season.

"Check out those birds at three o'clock."

Jamie cocked his head at Willie's words.

Two wide-eyed bonnie lassies stood next to the pool table sipping cocktails as if awaiting their turn for a game. Living in a tight community where everyone knew everybody and their business, Jamie immediately discerned the girls were visitors.

Willie unzipped his jacket. "I saw blondie first."

Jamie followed his brother's line of sight, but his eyes darted back to the dark-haired lass with the palest skin he'd ever seen, her tresses done up in a messy bun. Her long legs, accentuated by tight black jeans, grabbed his complete attention. She had a cropped red cable-knit sweater on and boots caked with mud which meant she must have been watching the shinty game earlier along with the rest of the village folks.

"Bloody hell, look at her," Willie murmured.

Blondie wore a purple turtle neck top that showed off her nice breasts, and jeans that hugged her hips snuggly. Jamie grinned. "Och, ye like 'em curvy, but I like her mate more. Shall we talk to them?"

"Aye, let's do that before one of those lads get there first." 

Jamie made a move forward.

"Hang on a minute," Willie's hand slapped across Jamie's chest, stopping him mid-saunter. "Yer ex ... she's back here for the holidays. She's sat at the bar with her mates. Are ye sure ye're ready for this?"

"Aye, aye. It's been over between us for ages," Jamie replied, not taking his eyes off the dark-haired lass. He hadn't thought about his ex for a long time and whatever he thought he'd felt for her back then, was nothing but a distant memory.

"This is just a bit of fun, alright? Dinnae get to attached. Blondie and her mate are probably tourists."

Willie had seen him go through hell over a year ago with his ex, who he thought had been the one for him. She had turned his life upside down, affecting his job, and his ability to stay sober after she'd cheated on him. Once Jamie got his act together, he'd sworn off serious relationships and decided to concentrate on work.

"Fun. Fun sounds good," Jamie muttered. When Willie didn't release him, he looked at his brother square in the eyes. "How about ye?"

"What about me?"

"Ye haven't chatted up a lass in a very long time. Are ye sure you still know how to?" Jamie asked, trying to keep a straight face.

Willie shoved his shoulder and feigned offence. "Ye cheeky git! Cannae chat any lass up when I know everyone here, now, can I?" 

Jamie nodded toward the two girls. "Weel, what are we waiting for?" He took a deep breath and kinked his head sideways to the left and then to the right. "If we're just gonnae stand here like a couple of numpties and discuss, we'd be too late by the time we get there."

"Mmm, never seen ye this eager to meet a lass before," Willie grinned.

Jamie looked back at the women and noticed they were beginning to garner attention from the lads nearby. The dark-haired one made a move around the pool table followed by her mate, and he was powerless to stop his gaze wandering down to the gentle curve of her arse.

Willie straightened his posture. "Let's go," he exhaled as he made a move.

Jamie followed suit and lined up next to his brother. As they got closer, he watched as the dark-haired lass skirted past a group of pool players with a polite smile, then wrote her initials in chalk on a blackboard mounted to the wall, claiming the next game. CB, she scrawled.

She wrinkled her nose and laughed at something her friend said as she started moving towards the bar. Jamie's frown deepened when the lass didn't see the sports bag put into her path. A few steps more, and she would trip and fall flat on her face. But not if he could help it.

"Hey!" Jamie shouted, abandoning Willie's side. "Hey, ye!"

She took another step, looking over her shoulder to acknowledge what her friend was shouting at her.

"Ah, fuck!" Jamie gritted his teeth and hurried towards her in quick long strides. He had no choice but to jostle a couple of bodies out of his way as she showed no signs of hearing him. He caught her as her foot connected with the bulky bag, his arms sliding under hers and pulling her up.

Her forehead bounced off his chin. "Oh, Lordy, Lordy." She let out a lungful of air and dug her fingernails into his forearms, her breath on his neck feeling like a double shot of heat warming his insides. "I'm such a clumsy oaf."

"Hey mate, shoved that bag under the table will ye, before someone breaks their neck," Jamie shouted over the top of her head at the owner of the bag, his voice sounding a tad harsh. With her front plastered against him, Jamie could almost feel her shock subside, giving way to the vibration of her laughter. Still holding her close, he puffed out a sigh and whispered into her ears. "Next time, ye should look at where ye're going. Ye could have landed on yer face, and that wouldn't have been a pretty sight."

Still laughing, her shoulders shook, presumably finding the situation hilarious. "We left our Airbnb earlier in a hurry, and my contact lenses are at the bottom of my suitcase. I'm farsighted, you see, but I'm too vain to wear my specs."

"Enough to fall flat on yer face? "

A few heartbeats passed. "If I say yes, are you going to start yelling again?"

"Aye."

"Alright then ...no."

Realising he still held the lass in a firm grip, Jamie let her go slowly to reassure himself she was steady on her feet. She kept her head down as she took a step back to rummage through the handbag slung on her shoulder. When she got hold of what she was looking for, she put on a pair of specs and blinked up at him through round, black-rimmed eyeglasses. As their eyes met, he felt something crank in his chest. He must still be wound up from the shinty game earlier because, on a sucked-in breath, an uneven sound passed through his mouth. A Dhia. She had the most beautiful amber eyes, and they reminded him of the colour of the finest heavily peated single malt whisky, Islay had to offer. 

"Oooh!" she whispered. 

Aye, tell me about it. "What's yer name?"

"You're one of the shinty players from earlier."

"Uh-huh." He tamped down the urge to laugh. "Yer name?" he repeated.

If the spellbound look in her eyes meant she was stunned by what she saw, she wasn't the only one. "Oh, yes. Sorry. I'm Claire. Beauchamp. Claire Beauchamp."

"Claire." For some reason, colour bloomed in her face when he said her name. "I'm Jamie Fraser."

"Hi." After a few seconds of just staring at each other, she recovered first and slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, shoot, where are my manners? Thank you. Thank you for saving me from an undignified fall." Her lips twitched, and her eyes twinkled. "If I had died of embarrassment, at least no one would care since nobody knows me here."

"I would care." Someone collided into him from behind, making him close the distance between them and her head tilt back to maintain eye contact. She was a tall lass, but still, he was a head taller than her. "So ... ye're here on holiday?" he asked.

"Yes, I am ...until Boxing Day. And then we're going to Edinburgh for Hogmanay. And then flying back to London on Three Kings from Glasgow." He heard her swallow. "I have a thing for Christmas in Scotland, you see."

"Is that so? What else do ye have a thing for?"

"Probably a lot of other stuff," she whispered, clutching her handbag in front of her. "But I'm having difficulty thinking of them right this minute."

"And why is that?" God, she's breathtakingly beautiful.

"I guess I'm still rattled by that near fall." She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Or have you forgotten all about that already?"

Jamie couldn't stop his grin. "No, not at all." In his periphery, he saw his brother and Claire's friend chatting. He wondered if he could whisk Claire away. This lass is something else. She wasn't staying here for very long, and he wanted to get to know her and make every second count.

He cleared his throat. "Look, Sassenach ..." 

"Sassenach?"

He felt heat glid at the back of his neck. "Sorry ... it's a Gaelic word. It means an outsider or someone from not around here. In case ye misunderstood, it's not my intention to make it sound like ye're not welcome here. Let's just say I meant it as a pet name. Endearment, if ye will."

He regarded her as her eyes searched his face, and she made no effort at all to hide her perusal of his lips. When a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes lit up into a wicked glint, his chest expanded a hundred-fold. "I like the sound of that ...Sassenach," she breathed as she rolled the Gaelic word in her tongue.

"Mmm, so, you're from London, huh?"

She shoved her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. "Yeah. I'm originally from Oxford. But I live and work in London as an editorial assistant for a publishing company. How about you? What do you do, besides playing shinty?"

"I'm a tree surgeon. My brother and I run an arboricultural business."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, wow! I've never met a tree surgeon before. So I guess you must love your job to make it into a business?"

"Aye, I do," he smiled, basking in her open interest in his life. "I love the outdoors and the fresh air, whatever the weather. How about ye? Do ye like yer job?"

She paused and frowned in contemplation. "It's alright," she shrugged. "It's a job that will bring me closer to fulfilling a dream, I guess. I want to be a fulltime writer one day ..."

It was his turn to be surprised. "Maybe ye should move to the countryside if ye want to be a writer. Far too many distractions in London, don't ye think?"

She grinned. "Yeah, I suppose so. But I'm enjoying London at the moment, and I'm not quite ready to give up the city life. Just yet. Maybe one day." She glanced at her watch. "Umm ...you must have somewhere to go."

He wasn't ready to let her walk away, so he forced a worried cast into his face. "Eh, ye look still shaken up. We should probably get ye something stiff to drink ...and my phone number."

Her eyes widened, and after a tense split second, laughter burst out of her lips, loud enough to turn heads in their vicinity. She brought her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle but failed. The sound was so infectious, his own low rumble accompanied it, and he couldn't help but think, there's never been a time he felt such a powerful connection with another person. 

"Actually I'm with my mate here," Claire said finally, jerking a thumb over her shoulder and twisting around to the direction of where her friend stood. "She's my French flatmate. But it looks like she's already found someone to talk to." She paused and squinted her eyes. "Oh ...I recognise that bloke she's with. He played shinty too, didn't he?"

He waved at Willie and signalled him and Claire's friend to come over. "Aye, that's my older brother." 

Claire's gaze shot right back to him. "Really?" With a smile that showed off perfect teeth, she pushed her specs higher on her nose. "I wouldn't have thought. I don't have a sibling, and I just presumed your whole family would have the same gorgeous auburn hair like yours. Well, alright ..." She crimsoned to her hairline as she looked at his approaching brother. "I see some similarities now ...height, broad shoulders and the colour of your eyes."

Jamie felt a pinch of unease. Even though her vivacity was endearing, he wasn't ready to feel drawn to anyone this deeply or to care at such an alarming rate and intensity. After his last relationship broke down, there hadn't been anyone that piqued his interest ...until now. And she would be leaving in a few days. Chatting to her was only meant to be a night of enjoying the company of a beautiful lass or perhaps a diversion in whom he could lose himself into for a short time. But the moment he'd looked into her eyes, warm feelings drove into his heart while burning urges grew low in his tummy. This lass was a breath of fresh air and sexy and exactly what he needed. He mentally shook his head to clear his brain. Looking beyond the top of her head, he blurred the image of seeing this as something more. The long-distance relationship was a no-go. He was a country lad at heart, and she belonged to the city.

"Jamie?" She was staring at him as if he'd lost some of his ability to think clearly.

"I'm sorry ...still listening. It's just that I'm not used to a beautiful lass pointing out my physical attributes," he reassured her with a smile.

That beautiful blush blew across her face again. Jamie found it adorable. How could she be direct and shy at the same time? "I didn't mean to sound so bold. It must have something to do with me living in the city for so long ...you know, us Londoners tend to have no filters."

He winked at her. "Dinnae fash, lass. I kinda like it." And he meant it. 

She was about to respond when Willie and Claire's friend reached them, huge smiles painted across their faces like they'd hit it off.

The blonde girl took a step forward towards Jamie. "Hi! Claire and I enjoyed watching you guys play shinty earlier. I didn't realise it would be so aggressively physical. By the way, I'm Annalise," she smiled warmly, holding out her hand.

Jamie took it. "Aye, that it is and difficult to play when the grounds are too soggy. It could get pretty messy in this dreich weather." He shook her hand. "I'm Jamie ...please to meet ye."

"Likewise," Annalise replied, glancing at her friend.

Willie introduced himself to Claire, then brought his attention to their situation. "Looks like yer glasses are empty, ladies. Can we invite ye both to join us for a drink?"

Jamie saw Annalise elbow Claire with a conspiratorial look. When Claire nodded, Annalise batted her eyes at his brother. "Sure. That would be nice. I'd like a vodka and tonic please."

Willie grinned like he'd just received an early Christmas present and Jamie understood the feeling.

"Sassenach, what would ye like to drink?" 

Before Claire could reply, Hugh, one of the lads in his shinty team, tapped her on the shoulder. "It's ye against me now, lass."

Claire swung around and looked at the cue stick being handed to her, and her eyes lit. Turning back to Jamie, she grinned. "This won't take long, but I'll have a single malt, neat, please." Then she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. "This is for good luck."

He froze. It was an innocent kiss, but it packed quite a punch.

"Oh ...and yeah, it's a belated thank you again for breaking my fall," she quickly added, suddenly, appearing unsure like she doubted the gesture.

A slow grin roused to form on his lips. "Ye can thank me by going out with me ...tonight," he said, without thinking.

She blinked.

"I'd like to show ye something."

Her brows wrinkled as she studied his face.

"I'd really like to get to know ye better and take ye out," he said. "Please allow me." If she said no, he was quite certain he was going to beg.

"Alright."

He smiled as relief surged through him. "I'll wait for you until ye finish yer game," he said. "We'll leave after we've had a drink with my brother and yer friend."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere Christmassy."

She gave him a wary look, and he laughed. 

"Listen." He leaned in close. "I'll get yer friend to take a picture of my driving licence if that will make ye feel better."

He was about to pull out his wallet to retrieve it when she stopped him with a wave of a hand. "I trust you."

"That's a good start."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Slowly backing away from him, she smiled. "Let me play this one game first, and then I'll be with you."

With his heart in his throat, he watched her progress as she walked towards the pool table and swapped a few quick words with her opponent, who seemed to be humouring her. After the lively exchange, Claire pulled up the sleeves of her sweater to her elbow and rubbed her hands together. Before she began chalking the cuestick, she gave him a wink. That mere display made the muscles in his belly clench, literally whooshing the breath out of him. 

A slap on his back tore his gaze away from Claire. "Easy now lad," Willie said in a low, amused voice. "Ye look like ye could use the same drink as her."

Jamie glanced back at the subject of their conversation. "Aye, but make mine a double," he whispered.

"On it," Willie replied, laughing as he walked off.

What the bloody hell? He should be withdrawing himself away from this attraction because this mad instant bond between them was like an overloaded electrical fuse, capable of incinerating him alive. He'd already learnt his lesson from his last relationship. He'd been there and done that, but yet he didn't have the will to stop himself from finding out how their connection would play out.

Oh, Christ, this is bad. So, so bad, I'm in so much big trouble. Taking a huge sigh, he found himself a stool nearest to the pool table and watched Claire steal the show from the best snooker player in Broch Mordha.

[bluebuzzmusic]

Lollapalooza’s Big Return Helped Usher In A New Festival Season [REVIEW]

words by Dani Deahl

  As Lollapalooza’s gates opened on Thursday morning, the air was filled with fizzy excitement. Whoops rippled through the throngs of fans decked out in jewels, body glitter, and other adornments as the rush moved toward the main entrance. One attendee triumphantly thrust his vaccination card aloft as he yelled “Summertime Chi!”

Like hundreds of other live events, Lollapalooza was canceled in 2020 due to COVID-19 concerns. And, like hundreds of other live events that rescheduled for 2021, uncertainty hung in the air beforehand, despite the city’s insistence that the show would go on. And go on it did.

Precautions were put in place — attendees had to show proof of vaccination or negative COVID-19 test results upon entrance every day while artists had to provide attestation letters in advance — but many remain concerned about crowds with hundreds of thousands of unmasked people. One Chicago Tribune reporter tweeted that “Fake COVID-19 vaccination cards are 100% a thing at Lollapalooza in Chicago.”

(For its part, the city maintains that there are no plans to shut Chicago down again. Mayor Lori Lightfoot said, “We’ve been able to open but do it with care because of the vaccinations.”)

this photo from lollapalooza is giving me so much anxiety omg pic.twitter.com/68POnvE9X3

— no context jeff (@thecultureofme) August 1, 2021

Almost all were more than happy to comply with the added regulations. Lollapalooza says it only turned away about 600 people who showed up without paperwork on Thursday, a fraction of the day’s attendance.

It’s not surprising as the anticipation building up to the return of Lollapalooza was palpable. The iconic Chicago festival has been a staple for over 30 years and is a rite of passage for music lovers and acts alike. It’s famous for any number of things, including its location in the middle of the city which provides breathtaking views of the skyline (and cute photo ops in front of Buckingham fountain).

Over time, Perry Farrell’s brainchild has blossomed into a pop-up city within a city, replete with (depending on the year) opulent gifting suites, tucked away forests dotted with hammocks, and even a Red Bull gaming stage, where Ninja streamed on Mixer with acts like Madeon.

That last example might show just how diverse Lollapalooza has become over the years. It’s rooted in rock, but fans of just about any genre can get their fix and wander off their musical path to discover something new.

Dance in particular has its own separate and seminal history with Lollapalooza. The festival launched Perry’s Stage back in 2008 in order to give the genre a dedicated space. That first year in a tiny white tent, it hosted names like Willy Joy, Does It Offend You, Yeah?, and DJ AM. Since then, the likes of CRAY, Alesso, Rezz, Shiba San, Seven Lions, and Duke Dumont have performed on Perry’s as the stage itself exploded in both size and production.

Now with the behemoth stage a mainstay, the dance audience gets the best of both worlds at Lolla: a top-notch experience with plenty of pyro, Co2, and fireworks, and the perfect location to stake as home base for the week. While dedicated hip-hop fans likely did the 15-20 minute trek across Grant Park many times to bounce between headliners, dance fans didn’t have the same worry as the genre is mostly contained to Perry’s. Camping out at Perry’s also affords the bonus of being relatively close to lockers, mobile charging, food, beer stations, and restrooms, a five-peat that can’t be said about many other locations across the festival’s expansive grounds.

This year, fans of dance were treated to heavy-hitters like Jauz, Alison Wonderland, and Grammy-nominated KAYTRANADA on Perry’s, alongside buzz-worthy up-and-comers like Moore Kismet, Wenzday, and Blossom. And, like some previous iterations of Lollapalooza (Daft Punk and Deadmau5 come to mind), dance was the mainstage event two nights, with headliner slots doled out to Marshmello and Illenium.

Among the dance artists, there was a wholesome sense of glee while on stage. For most acts, Lollapalooza was the largest event they had played since the pandemic took the music industry to its knees and snatched away live shows about a year and a half ago. For Alison Wonderland, in particular, the fest marked her first show on US soil in over a year. Within that context, Lollapalooza wasn’t just a festival, it was hope.

That sense of relief and gratitude was perhaps underlined best by Jauz’s set introduction, which began with an acapella of Eminem’s “Square Dance.” The singular line “It feels so good to be back” echoed out over the field at Perry’s to swells of cheers. Then, the Roland Clark acapella of “Glad You’re Home” kicked in over a house beat. “Hello my friends,” says Clark, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen your faces. I miss you so much.”

Other notable moments included Marc Rebillet (affectionately known as “Loop Daddy” because of his Boss RC-505 Loop Station) running in large circles on stage in a silk robe leading the crowd in a “fuck Jeff Bezos” chant, Twista making a surprise appearance with YehMe2 to perform “Overnight Celebrity” during Brownies & Lemonade All Stars, and Dr. Fresch goading the Limp Bizkit crowd to smash Wes Borland’s guitar to pieces. Because, sure.

Aside from the music, there was an interesting but noticeable shift: Perry’s, for the first time, is no longer called Perry’s. This year, web-scale blockchain company Solana got in the mix, rebranding the stage as Perry’s x Solana. As part of the integration, Solana built a digital Lolla NFT Marketplace with limited edition NFTs (non-fungible tokens) for purchase. NFTs on sale include a 1-of-1 NFT of the original 1991 Lollapalooza poster priced at $9,999, and 25 NFTs of Steve Aoki throwing cake during his Friday night set priced at $999.99 each. If those prices make you dizzy, there are plenty at lower prices, and even some that can be claimed for free.

Celebrating the return of live music with a cake to the face. Own this moment now at the #Lolla NFT Marketplace. @steveaoki

NFT by Transition Ninja. pic.twitter.com/QmUVpJ1Gzu

— Lollapalooza (@lollapalooza) July 31, 2021

At the end of four days, when people would normally be exhausted, beaten down by Chicago’s summer humidity and the sheer amount of physical exertion spent darting from stage to stage for hours at a time, there was instead a lightness. 

Ultimately, the festival’s storied history combined with the excitement of fans and musicians dipping their toes back into live events made this year’s Lollapalooza feel like a collective emotional reunion. Albeit one that’s complicated, and understandably so. As one of the skyscrapers lining Grant Park’s border reminded fans through lit-up windows at the end of each night: “#VACC TO LOLLA.”

  Photo via Shea Flynn

This article was first published on Your EDM. Source: Lollapalooza’s Big Return Helped Usher In A New Festival Season [REVIEW]

source https://www.youredm.com/2021/08/04/lollapaloozas-big-return-helped-usher-in-a-new-festival-season-review/

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Today in Christian History

Today is Tuesday, August 30th, the 242nd day of 2022. There are 123 days left in the year.

Today’s Highlight in History:

1533: Repose (death) of Alexander the abbot of Svir. He had led a saintly existence as a hermit and had built a church dedicated to the Trinity.

1637: A synod is called in Cambridge, Massachusetts, to deal with Anne Hutchinson, who is charged with “traducing” (i.e., slandering) the ministry.

1743: Baptism of William Paley, who becomes a famous Christian apologist, noted for his argument of watch and watch-maker.

1900: Boxer rebels in China execute missionaries Willie and Helen Peat, their children and associates.

1916: Mexican evangelist Juan Lugo preaches the first-known Pentecostal message in Puerto Rico. In 1920 he will found Iglesia de Dios Pentecostal in Puerto Rico.

[saladbroth]

5 and 15 for the fic ask!

gracie!!! thank you!!! ily!

5. What’s your favorite headcanon you use in fics?

i have many headcanon, have some more: the boys are super protective of each other and especially with willex from a non-willex perspective i like adding how much they love that willie is so good with alex, and that it’s important he’s capable of handling their best friend with the respect and love and care he deserves

15. Give us a snippet of something from your WiPs!

have some bog gays from chapter 3! 

This year there are new things he likes about autumn. The more intense smell of peat wafting over the bog and to the village, settling in their home when Reggie forgets to close a window after airing the house. The taste of wild blackberries that practically melt in his mouth, handed to him by lithe fingers that dance across his palm for a moment, and eyes the colour of dravite crinkling with a smile. The way the sky looks at sunrise when the clouds don’t smother it, duller and more intense at the same time, shared under a blanket with warm hands in his and jet black hair tickling his jaw. Reggie’s smile when they duck through the hole in the fence, with freshly baked apple pie in their hands and a flask of hot tea ready to be shared in small tin cups.

[bogfanfic]

Bog fiction request : "America's Got talent" type of competition where different celebrities compete and the losers are sucked into the bog for a battle for their lives.

Bog Games

Harry Styles and William Shatner were setting up their mics on opposite sides of the peat stage. Harry Styles was wearing loafers, which kept getting stuck in the peat. William Shatner saw this and chuckled. He came prepared in his thigh high waders. You and Jimmy Kimmel sat behind the judges booth, ready to judge. 

“Who do you think will win Y/n?” asked Jimmy. 

“I’m not sure,” you said. “I know they’re both very talented.”

Harry Styles was going to perform first. His music began playing, a song you didn't recognize. Could it be that he was singing an unreleased song? He began singing and his voice was beautiful. Harry Styles has always been quite the performer. 

After his song, William Shatner cleared his throat and sat down on the stool behind the mic. Much to your surprise, the same song began playing, and William Shatner sang a spoken word version of Harry’s song. You couldn’t believe it. At first, you thought it wouldn’t be as good as the original, but it was even better. William Shatner spoke with such emotion that it brought tears to your eyes. You looked over at Jimmy Kimmel and noticed that he was tearing up as well. When the song was over, you and Jimmy clapped. You could hear the croaking of the frog audience behind you as well. Just based on audience reaction, the winner was clear, but you also felt it in your heart. 

“Jimmy, I think-”

“William Shatner is the winner!” Jimmy Kimmel said. The frogs croaked their approval. 

“What?! This isn’t fair!” Harry Styles shouted. “He stole my song! That’s not even allowed.”

Harry continued to yell as the alligator body guards dragged him off the stage with their teeth. They pulled Harry into the stagnant moldy water. His body sunk into the mud, his face slipping under the moss never to be seen again. 

“William Shatner moves onto the next round!” you announced.

Next round was debate, which you were interested in seeing. Especially because Kim Namjoon, aka RM, was in the debate. He was your crush and you hoped he didn’t lose and become a bog body. In fact, you kind of hoped he won the games overall because of the prize…

Kellyanne Conway stood behind her podium on the peat stage. Her heels were sinking into the peat and there was moss in her hair. She had actually been living in the bog for quite a while, so she was right at home here. RM was also sinking into the peat, not used to this environment. When he moved to get closer to his podium, the mud suctioned his shoes right off, lost to the bog forever. 

Once they were both in their places, you stood up and announced the topic of the debate. 

“Is a hotdog a sandwich?” you said. It was a simple, yet complex question that has been in debate for years. You were looking forward to the two contestants coming to a conclusion. 

“No, a hotdog is not a sandwich because a hot dog bun isn’t two separate pieces of bread,” Kellyanne began. 

“But a sub is considered a sandwich, as are pitas and empanadas. If those are considered sandwiches, then a hotdog more than falls into that category,” said RM.

“But by societal laws, a hotdog is not considered a sandwich,” said Kellyanne.

“What society? American society? The hotdog is fundamentally american, but sandwiches are universal. Many people around the world would look at a hotdog and consider it a sandwich. Many Americans even would maybe consider it a sandwich, so saying that it’s societal law is too loose of a criteria. By the definition of a sandwich, which is food held together by bread, it is a sandwich,” said RM. The frogs croaked in consideration and approval. 

“But it's a hotdog,” said Kellyanne. “It can’t be a sandwich.”

“That is not a valid argument,” Jimmy Kimmel interrupted. Jimmy looked over at you. You were filling out your logic maps, trying to figure out whose argument was the best. So far, RM was winning. 

“Do you have anything else to say?” you asked, looking at Kellyanne. She shook her head. “Then RM is the winner!”

Kellyanne hung her head and walked into the water, her legs sinking in the mud and her body going under. 

Y/N and Jimmy Kimmel set up the boxing ring, their feet sinking into the peat. Jimmy put on his sexiest outfit, ready to announce the rounds. He was wearing thigh-high, high heeled leather waders and a moss green bikini.  You put on your striped referee shirt and your overall waders. 

In one corner, stood Michelle Obama, with her coach, Barack. In the other corner was Lucy Liu with her coach, Uma Thurman. Barack was rubbing Michelle’s shoulders, giving her a pep talk before the big fight. Lucy was warming up with Uma, her boxing-glove clad hands hitting Uma’s padded hands.

“Laaaaaaaadies and gentlemen!” you say into the microphone. “The fight is about to begin!”

Uma and Barack exited the ring, leaving Lucy and Michelle in their corners. They each shed their robes, revealing their skin-tight wrestling outfits. Michelle’s was red, white, and blue American flag patterned. Lucy’s was bog green and camo patterned. 

The women came forward and shook each other’s hands, then went back into their corners. Jimmy Fallon walked across the stage, a Round 1 banner held above his head. He exited the ring, and the bell rang.

“Begin!” yelled Y/N.

The women wasted no time running toward each other, Lucy going high and Michelle low. Michelle wrapped her arms around Lucy and knocked her to the ground. Lucy, not one to stay down long, scrambled out of Michelle’s hold and got back to her feet. Michelle stood and the women started circling each other, daring each other to make the first move. Lucy struck, grabbing her opponent and throwing her into the railing. Michelle used the momentum to throw herself at Lucy, yelling her battle cry. She once again grabbed Lucy and threw her to the ground, pinning her down. Lucy tried to throw Michelle off, but was unable to. Y/N ran into the scene and counted down: “3, 2, 1, Michelle wins!”

The women retreated to their corners. Barack high fived his wife and gave her some water. Uma appeared to be giving Lucy a pep talk. The frog audience shivered in anticipation.

Jimmy walked across the ring once again, Round 2 held above his head. The bell rang, and you yelled, “Begin!”

Lucy wasn’t holding anything back this time. She ran toward Michelle, ducking as Michelle tried to grab her. She bounced off the ring, and flew toward Michelle, knocking the First Lady to the ground, face first. Michelle flipped over, wiping the mud from her eyes. She sat up, just to be knocked down by Lucy again. Michelle flipped them over, so Lucy was laying down in the mud and she was on top. Lucy threw Michelle off her and stood. Michelle did the same.

You held your breath as the fighters circled each other, once again. This time, Michelle made the first move. Lucy stepped to the side as Michelle ran past her. She turned around, anticipating Michelle’s next move. Lucy knelt down and reached into the bog, pulling out a metal folding chair, the bog making a slurping sound as it released it. She let Michelle run past her again, then hit her in the back with the chair. Lucy pinned a dazed Michelle to the ground.

“Round 2 goes to Lucy!” you announced.

The frog audience croaked with pleasure. Things were really heating up now.

“There can only be one winner!” You said into the microphone.

Jimmy presented the Round 3 sign.

“Round three begins, now!” you said as the bell rang again.

Michelle was dazed but certainly not confused. She knew she had to take Lucy down, or become a bog body. Last time, she made the first move, but that hadn’t ended well. She waited for Lucy to make the first move. As Lucy ran toward her, Michelle flipped through the air, landing on Lucy’s shoulders. She used her momentum to pull Lucy backward, both of them landing on the ground. Both scrambled, grabbing at one another, trying to pin each other down. Michelle grabbed Lucy’s arm and managed to pin her down. After you count to three, the bog raised up to swallow Lucy. Michelle backed away, watching as her opponent scrambled, trying to escape the bog. Her head went under the water, and her screams went with it.

Jimmy Fallon climbed into the ring and grabbed Michelle’s hand, raising it up, declaring her the winner. The frogs went wild. Michelle would move on. 

Colin Creevy and Violet Baudelaire took the stage where Harry and Willy Shatz had completed earlier. You took your seat next to Jimmy, who was still dressed in his sexy outfit. This round would be a rap battle. Colin stepped up to the mic. His wavy black hair was thick with pomade. He wore nothing but swimming trunks.

“Jimmy!” he said, pointing at the man. “Give me a beat.”

Jimmy obliged, giving Colin one of the sickest beats you had ever heard.

“Name’s Colin, last name Creevy,

Women have told me I’m a bit skeevy,

I’m the hottest member of the Lake Huron Surf Club

After this, baby, let’s go down to the pub,” he rapped, winking at you.

“Find me in the water on my surfboard,

Hitting the waves, I win all the awards,

Back off Violet, I’ll see you later

At surfing and rapping, there ain’t no one greater.”

Colin took a bow, as the frogs went wild. Violet took a deep breath and walked up onto the stage. Colin’s rap wasn’t very good, but she wondered if she would be able to beat it still. Freestyle rapping was hard, she knew. Violet pulled her ribbon from her pocket and tied up her hair to get it out of her face. Now that she was free from distraction, she could think more clearly, and started noticing all the little things Colin Creevy could be insecure about and thought about how she could rap about them. 

“Colin Creevy, look out, your time here is done,

My rhymes are so fresh that I’ve already won.

You talk a big game, that much is correct,

Now stand back, you’re about to get wrecked.

You hide behind your looks, and your lil’ surfboard,

Knowing your rhymes weren’t enough to win the reward.

My life may be a series of unfortunate events.

But watch out, Creevy, or your life is next.”

The frogs began to scream. They had never heard a better rap than Violets. It was clear who the winner was. Colin fought as the crocodiles carried him away, throwing him to the mercy of the bog.

The next challenge was the dance off between Oprah Winfrey and Seth Rogan. Neither of them were dancers, but it seemed Seth had some surprises up his sleeve. Jimmy Kimmel plugged in his phone and put on his favorite song, Wasabi, by Little Mix. Seth Rogan stepped up onto the peat stage and broke it down. His moves were sexy and sassy, going with the song perfectly. Oprah pushed him out of the way and began her freestyle. She flipped her hair and rolled on the ground sexily. She got up and popped her hips, finishing her solo with one last spin. Seth stepped up and began his sexy routine. He flipped his hair and shook his ass, wowing the crowd. His dance was building until finally, he did it. The triple tiger sashay. The hardest dance move of all time. The frog audience croaked their shock and awe. 

It was obvious, Seth Rogan was the winner and would be moving onto the next round. 

“Alright! Is everyone ready for some Extreme Bog Basketball?” Jimmy Kimmel shouted into the echoing microphone. (EBBB). The frog audience and the final contestants cheered. Seth, Violet Baudelaire, Michelle Obama, Kim Namjoon, and William Shatner stood on the starting platform. 

You stood from your judge’s booth and went to face the cameras. The cameraman handed you a microphone as he went down the line of finalists. 

“Good evening listeners! I know you are all dying to hear about the final round of tonight’s Bog Games! Our finalists, competing in the EBBB game, are ready to fight! First we have Seth Rogan, writer, director and...comedian? Next we have Violet Baudelaire, eldest sibling and inventor. Michelle Obama, former First Lady and future president of the United States. Kim Namjoon, composer, writer, rapper, and leader of boyband, BTS. And last but not least, William Shatner, actor, singer, and original captain of the USS Enterprise,” you announced. “Now, you all know the rules of EBBB. There are two baskets on either side of the 100 yard b-ball court. The court today will take place in the business district and both nets are at the top of the tallest two office buildings. Each basket is worth two points. At the end of the 48 minute timer, without quarterly stops, whoever has the most points, wins. Otherwise, there are no rules. It is every man for himself.”

All the players wore basketball shorts and jerseys. Namjoon’s thighs looked great in his shorts, but you couldn’t let yourself get distracted. You had to pay attention to the game. When the horn sounded, the players rushed off into the business district of the bog. Seth Rogan had the ball and everyone else was hot on his trail. They weaved through the mossy buildings, dodging beavers and herons in business suits. Michelle body slammed Seth Rogan and stole the ball, darting off into a muddy alleyway. 

Violet thought fast and broke off from the chase, running right to the building where she could see the basketball net on the roof. She ran into the lobby and took the stairs all the way up. She had to run through several offices filled with frogs and turtles in cubicles, but she finally found a way to the roof. She half expected security guards to stop her, but then she remembered that bog game intervention was illegal in the bog. Once she got to the roof, she crouched behind an air vent and waited. While she waited for the other players to bring the ball, she pulled out her ribbon and tied her hair up, thinking. She was a lot smaller than the other players, so she won’t stand a chance fighting them for the ball. She would have to outsmart them. A convenient pile of metal and tools sat to her left. She got to work inventing her most prestigious device to date. 

Meanwhile, Michelle still had the ball, and Seth was hot on her heels. RM and Willy Shatz were close behind. Michelle turned to go down an alley, but her foot got stuck in the peat, the basketball flying out of her hands as she hit the ground. Seth saw his opening and picked up the ball. RM, not having seen Michelle fall, tripped over the first lady. Willy Shatz catapulted over them and ran down the alley after Seth. 

Seth found himself in a dead end, Willy approaching fast. He clutched the ball to his chest.

“Give it here Seth,” said William. “There’s nowhere to go.”

Seth Rogan, the inventor of comedy himself, refused to fall prey to a man who made his living doing sci-fi. Seth thought of that as a lesser genre. He was a master of comedy, and thus could make the world around him into a comedy.

Suddenly, a lever appeared to his left. Seth smirked, and pulled it. A trap door appeared beneath Wiliam, and he fell through.

Seth ran past, jumped over RM and Michelle, who had sunk partially into the peat and were still trying to get out, and made his way toward the front doors of the building. He raced through the building, toward the elevator. A fatal mistake.

As the doors opened at the top floor of the building, some sort of flying device with a grabber snatched the basketball from Seth. Above the elevator, Violet cut the safety lines, and the elevator plummeted back to the first floor, Seth still inside.

Violet grabbed the ball, ran out to the roof, and dunked it through the hoop. The first two points were hers.

Below, RM had managed to untangle himself from Michelle. He watched as Violet made the first basket. He waited below, and the ball fell right into his waiting arms.

RM ran toward the other building, hoping that would give him an advantage, as everyone else was in the first building. He took the stairs two at a time, racing to the roof of the building. He burst through the door, and was blocked by Violet’s flying arm machine. The arm went to grab the ball, and RM ducked, running under the machine. He threw the basketball as hard as he could at the machine, breaking one of the propellers. The machine went down. 

RM grabbed the ball as Michelle burst onto the roof. But they had been too slow. RM had made a basket.

Below, Violet was waiting for her machine to bring her the ball. She watched as RM made a basket. As the ball fell to the earth, she ran to meet it, but she was too slow. William Shatner had reappeared, and he got to the ball first. He turned and ran into the building. Violet watched in disbelief. There was no way he was going to get past Michelle and RM. She decided to wait for the ball to come back down.

Michelle was ahead of RM coming down the stairs. She practically ran into William Shatner as he came up the stairs with the ball. Before Michelle could do anything to stop him, he opened a door and ran out of the stairwell. Michelle and RM followed closely behind. 

William desperately looked for a door to another stairwell, but there didn’t appear to be one. He ran into a conference room, where the frogs seemed to be discussing something very important, and locked the door. The conference room, however, had glass walls, so RM and Michelle found him quite quickly.

“Give me the ball!” said RM, pounding on the door.

“No, he’s already scored, give me the ball!” said Michelle.

William stared out the glass. He would need a diversion so he could get out of here. He began to sing his hit song, Bohemian Rhapsody. 

“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for meeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeee!”

As he hit the high note, the glass shattered, spraying Michelle and RM.

“My eyes!” Michelle screamed.

Willy jumped through the window and made his way back to the stairwell, RM close behind. Willy lost RM in the maze of the office and ran up the stairs, breathless from his beautiful solo.

Willy got to the roof, but he wasn’t alone. RM was faster and beat him there, and Violet had come up at some point while Willy had been trapped. They blocked his path to the basket.

In your judge’s box, you watched the scene unfold with baited breath, noticing that there was only five minutes left. This would be the final basket.

Violet had got her machine working again. It flew near Willy.

“Give the ball here,” she said. “You can’t win, there’s not enough time. Help me defeat RM.”

“No,” he said. “If I can’t win Y/N’s heart, no one can.”

William threw the ball over RM and Violet's heads, praying it would land in the basket.

Violet sent her machine toward the ball and RM jumped into the air, both reaching for the ball. RM snatched it out of the air and turned toward the basket. With a flick of his wrist, it went in, nothing but net. RM scored the final point of the game.

The frogs in the audience, and everywhere in the bog, cheered as the buzzer wet off, ending the game. You stood up and covered your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. RM had won! 

The surviving three players came down to stand on the peat stage. Jimmy Kimmel handed you the gold medal. 

“You can do the honor,” he said with a wink. He knew about your crush on RM. You went to the stage and walked past Willy Shatz and Violet, who were hanging their heads in defeat. RM watched you with a smoldering gaze as you put the gold medal around his neck. 

“RM is the winner of this year’s Bog Games!’ Jimmy Kimmel announced. The alligator guards grabbed Willy and Violet and dragged them into the mud. Jimmy Kimmel approached, holding the microphone out to RM. “How does it feel being the winner of the Bog Games?”

“The most important thing I won today, Jimmy, is the heart of Y/n,” said RM, not breaking eye contact with you. You blushed. 

Later that evening, after your date at the finest restaurant in the bog, you walked with RM along the firefly-lit trails. 

“Where will you go after this?” you asked, knowing that RM was a world famous idol who no doubt had other band related duties to attend to.

“Well, I was hoping to stay a bit longer here with you, but then I’ll have to go back to Korea and prepare for our comeback,” said RM. 

“Oh,” you said, looking down. 

RM placed a gentle finger under your chin, tilting your head up to face him. 

“Don’t worry Y/n, you’ll of course get a backstage pass to all of our concerts so that I can see you every day on our tour,” he said. You blushed as he leaned in, kissing you under the clear, starry sky of the bog. 

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: I would love to read about the moment in time Ellen and Brian decided on the name James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser

A Proper Name

by @whiskynottea

The bairn had soft, red hair. Her hair - and a lot of it.

Mackenzie blood running through his veins.

Ellen ran a finger over his little face, gently tracing the smooth forehead, the small nose, the wide lips.

The slanted blue eyes were turned towards her, and he looked at her in the vague way newborns do. Ellen smiled, looking at the cerulean pools, exactly like the ones she’d fallen in love with, years ago, the night of the gathering at Castle Leoch.

The Fraser side claiming its part of his blood.

The bairn kept his eyes open for just a moment before he squeezed them shut again. His mouth opened, ready to cry in frustration, for he had lost purchase on her nipple - a devastating thing to happen. Ellen helped her son before he’d wake the whole house with his screams, and then watched him suck, peaceful once more, and content.

She couldn’t stop looking at him.

It was beautiful to see little Jenny climb on the bed to sit next to her, eager to hold the baby. It was heartwarming to have Willie sit - composed, as an older brother would be - on her other side, eyes glinting with excitement when he talked about all the boys’ stuff he’d get to teach his little brother. But it was when the Laird’s room door was closed, when she had kissed her older children goodnight, that she had those precious moments alone with him, to welcome the newest Fraser at home.

Brian walked into the room soon after the baby had fallen asleep. He looked tired, with dark circles under his blue eyes, but his smile was radiant when he looked at the two redheads in bed.

“You’re awake.” It wasn’t a question. He shed off his clothes, leaving them on the chair in front of the dresser, and got under the quilts.

“One of us, at least,” she said, tearing her eyes away from her boy to look at her man.

He smelled of horses and smoke, and his kiss tasted like happiness and love.

“Have you decided, mo nighean ruaidh?” he asked, settled next to her. His eyes focused on the baby in her arms, while his hand moved up her thigh.

“Brian Fraser!” Ellen hissed. “Take yer frozen hands off me!”

He felt goosebumps rising on her silken skin and pulled his hand away, albeit reluctantly.

“So that’s my welcome? Oh, the pain, to be rejected by my own wife!” He looked at her from the corner of his eye, resting the back of his hand against his forehead, as if he was part of an ancient tragedy.

Ellen’s body shook with suppressed laughter. “Give me yer hands,” she said, thinking how she felt sometimes that she had four children instead of three.

She kissed his hands with warm lips, and let him cup her face.

“Thank ye, mo nighean,” he said and kissed her reverently on the forehead.

“What for? Your hands are still as cold as a winter’s night!”

“Aye, but ye warmed my heart.” He gave her a genuine smile, and then asked again, “So, have ye decided on a name fer the bairn?”

“Only one? He’ll think we dinna love him, Brian, wi’ him having only one name while his brother and sister have three each!”

“Oh aye,” Brian chuckled. “He’ll have three names too. Who kens, he might need them all.”

“D’ye think so, Brian Robert David Fraser?” she teased.

“I dinna ken. I didna need all mine, if that’s yer question. And ye didna need yers, Ellen Caitriona Sileas MacKenzie Fraser,” he returned her teasing.

Ellen shrugged, and then looked at Brian, a faint line between her eyebrows. “I was thinking of ‘Murtagh’, but he’s nae a Murtagh, right?”

Brian laughed at that, and it would have been a boisterous laugh if his son hadn’t been sleeping just a breath away. “He reminds me of ye, ruaidh.”

It was Ellen’s turn to laugh - silently. “Well we canna name him Ellen now, can we?” She took a deep breath then, the echo of their laughter fluttering in her heart. “He minds me of my Da.”

“Red Jacob?” Brian asked incredulously. “The ruthless leader?”

Ellen cocked an eyebrow, giving him a disapproving look. “The fierce warrior,” she returned. “Do ye ken, Brian Fraser, that I would never have been free to marry ye, if it wasna for my Da? In contrast to my brothers, Da never tried to force me to wed a suitor I had rejected.”

“Oh?” Brian gave her a soft smile. She’d never told him before.

“I ken that a lot had been said about him, rumours and gossip and some truths, but he loved me and he was a good Da to me. As for the ruthless leader, leave it to me to make a fair leader out of our son. As I’m counting on you, to make him a fearless warrior.”

“And he’ll love his redheaded daughter something fierce, aye? Even if she elopes wi’ a stranger?” Brian’s kiss tasted of mirth when his lips found hers. “Is it ‘Jacob’, then?”

Ellen sighed, leaning her head on her husbands shoulder, looking at their bairn. “He’s not a ‘Jacob’. What about ‘James’?”

“I like ‘James’, mo chridhe,” he said, kissing her temple.

They stayed fixed in time, the Brian Dubh and Ellen Ruaidh, looking at the little bundle in her arms. Finally, Ellen spoke again, asking Brian for the child’s second name.

“‘Alexander’,” Brian said decisively. “Since ye’re making him a fair leader, he’ll need a proper name to call himself one. Alexander means the Defender of Men. ‘Tis strong.”

“Aye, I like it. And the third one...” Ellen trailed off and looked at Brian, a light frown on her face. “This bairn’s life isna predictable.  He’s not like Willie, who knows that his destiny lies in Lallybroch. This one might become a man of words, or a warrior, a farmer… I want to give him a name that will be a weapon to him, to help him, no matter what happens.”

“What is on yer mind, a nighean?”

“‘Malcolm’. It means the same as Colum and it’s what my brother wanted us to call him when he was just a lad - it’s a king’s name, ye ken.” She looked at Brian, wanting him to understand. “Colum gave us this land, to build our life here. He maybe doesna talk to me now, but he’ll appreciate the gesture, I ken it. And I want him to be there for our lad, if he’ll ever need my family.”

“Look at the sly MacKenzie I married,” Brian said, shaking his head. He kissed his wife’s high cheekbones, then looked at his son, wondering if the same bonny frame was hidden under the rosy cheeks. “James. Alexander. Malcolm. Mackenzie. Fraser,” Brian announced and inhaled deeply, as if he wanted to take in the scent of the words.

“Jamie,” Ellen whispered with a smile and kissed the bairn, before setting him back in his basket.

A wisp of air entered the room from the slightly opened window, the scent of Ellen’s roses mingling with that of the peat fire, enveloping them in a hopeful warmth. Ellen scooted closer to her husband, feeling the weight of his arm across her waist as he lay behind her, and closed her eyes to sleep before wee Jamie would be hungry again.