#Oot and Aboot

[irish-belle]

I should have taken a picture but I just got an absolutely amazing lemon poppy seed bun from the bakery in a nearby village and genuinely it is one of the nicest things I’ve ever had. The bread was somewhere between a croissant and brioche. I could try for 50 years and I don’t think I could make anything quite that perfect. I’m half convinced they have a fae baker because it’s just that good. Magic has to be involved. I also picked up a rosemary and sea salt focaccia to go with dinner and a cinnamon bun for my sister in law because she loves this place, but they’re almost always sold out of those when she goes on the weekend.

[howls-memeing-castle]

[joeysalvatore]

"You know, part of me wishes that weird shit like that still surprised me-," Joey sighed as a shifter flew by and turned back into themself just before hitting the ground. "Happy Friday."

@havensdalestarters

[mwagneto]

im not posting abt ofmd enough those old men literally fucked omg

[hailietyler]

"Look, pal. I have sharp teeth and sharper claws, I am not in the mood for your shit."

@havensdalestarters

[liminalweirdo]

"It's a strange phenomenon, but the middle class native Canadian accent is pretty much homogenous all the way from Halifax to Victoria. Canadians who have been middle class for more than one generation, they speak pretty much [standard North American English].

[But] there are working-class features in Canadian English, which are different from the middle class features, saying 'ya's' as the plural of 'you', for instance. "What are ya's doing today?" "We was going." Certain vowels get changed, which are actually fairly common in working class accents all over the English-speaking world."

- Learning about the Canadian accent

[ian-magic-son]

Ian was a little drunk. To be fair, that was pretty much a given these days but still. He was merry. Being merry helped when he was faced with complicated friends who made complicated decisions. Take Charlotte Lawrence for example. One day she was human, the next she was a werewolf. Now, she was one of the right-hand she-wolves of Frederick frickin' Bellefonte.

"Charlotte Lawrence. To what do I owe the honour? I'm just kiddin', it's good to see you. If you're here to carry out any nefarious plans, don't mind me. I won't even look." Ian flashed a grin, teasing. He then held out the famous hip flask that he carried, potent with the 'Morrison Mix' cocktail (if you could call it that). "You want a swig?" @charlotte-the-confused

[amyoffline]

WHY is my POWER OUT AGAIN

[chickenisamazing]

Period underwear is the best invention on earth

[ttmcdavid]

[raye-sim]

took a bunch of screenshots of the new place and Billie doing infant things and andreas and stef being cute and then didn't edit them before I left for vacation OOPS.

Soooo, there are going be some posts next week :) excited to share the new house and andreas and stef being parents :)

[davekatzdefensesquad]

6•14•23

[sugaggukkie]

twice have two days off between their oakland and tacoma shows……..the way im going to have to be out and about in seattle on wednesday and thursday just in case i happen to run into any of the twice girlies hanging around the city…………….

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out

“Riley! Bad dog!”

You don’t have time to look up before a familiar German Shepherd barrels into you, knocking you to the ground and sending your keys skittering across the sidewalk. 

You sputter as the dog licks your face before a hand grips Riley’s collar and pulls him off you. You wipe the dog slobber from your face and look up expecting to see Simon, instead you see a broad man with a short mohawk, attempting to reign in the overexcited dog. 

“Sorry leannan, dinnae mean fur ‘im tae get away from me,” he said as you started to get back on your feet. 

“S’alright,” you say, brushing off your pants. You give him a quick once over. He's wearing jeans and a tight fitting navy T-shirt with the fire department’s emblem on it. 

He gives you a lopsided grin. “Lek whit ye see, bonnie?” He teases. 

Your face feels warm as you attempt to stutter out a response. 

“I'm only joking, lasso,” he chuckles at your embarrassment. He glances at the bakery door. “Gett’n off yer joab? Ye must be that wee thing the LT acts so sweet aboot.”

You stare at him for several moments, having little idea what he's saying. “I uh… I was just getting off work yeah,” you finally say. “Bakery's closed for the day, sorry.”

“Oh naw, I wasn’t look’n tae buy anyfing,” he said warmly. “Jus’ walkin’ Riley ‘ere.” He stuck a hand out. “Ye can call me Johnny.”

You shake his hand, giving him your name as well. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I don’t mean to rush off, but I need to get home.” You stick your hands in your pockets, finally registering that your keys weren’t in their usual place. You pat your other pockets before looking around at the ground. 

“Whit ye look’n fer?” Johnny asked. 

“My keys,” you say. “I think I dropped them when Riley ran up.” Your eyes scan the sidewalk before spotting the storm drain by the curb. Johnny seems to read your mind as he walks over and looks through the grate. 

“Wee charm oan it?” he asks. 

You groan. Of course your keys had fallen into the storm drain. How were you supposed to get into your apartment now? Your landlord was away on holiday and he hadn’t left a spare behind. He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night. You’d just spend the night in the bakery, but you’d already locked up for the night and no one would be back until morning. 

Johnny seems to sense your distress as he claps you on the back, knocking you from your thoughts. “Ye can stay wi’ us at th’ station house,” he suggested. “We can even get yer keys oot th’ drain fur ye.”

“I don’t wanna be a both-” you start to say but are cut off by Johnny. 

“Dinna fash!” he beamed at you. “ Nae trouble at all.”

Before you could protest, Johnny wraps a muscular arm over your shoulder and starts to guide you back to the station, grinning to himself as Riley trotted happily next to you. Simon was going to love this.

---

As a treat, here's a second one today <3

[damnyousubdermalirritants]

who knows maybe I'm Canadian ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

French workers not responding for all of August like "I'm août ✌️"

[jayofolympus-writes]

Okay on a lighter note I am now thinking about Soap trying to teach Nikolai Scots and giggling to myself about it

note: I have yet to find a canon source that gives a location for Soap's hometown, so I'm going with what's most fun for me

"So you call it a 'scurry'?" Nik asked, eyeing the bird dubiously as it inched its way closer to them. "But it does not scurry like a mouse does. It is fearless."

"Aye, but have ye seen 'em walkin'? They scurry a little bit," Soap replied. "Oi! Feck off, ye wee shite!" he barked at the bird that had leapt to try to steal his chips.

It earned them both some strange looks and baffled laughter from the tourists around them.

"I still do not understand," Nik confessed.

Soap shrugged. "Eh, that's jist the Doric for ye. An' it's only up by my way they say it; most places they're jist seagulls."

"And this is a dialect of Scottish," Nik clarified, turning it over in his mind. "I think I understand this. Tell me more?"

Soap grinned through a mouthful of chips, looking like a child in his eagerness to share what he knew.

"Right, so if my mum phoned me the now, I'd say I canna spik lang, I'm oot wi' the loons frae work. We jist went for a chippy, an' noo we're hivvin' a gander aboot the toon."

Nik hummed thoughtfully, nodding as he tried to parse the words. Most of it had been reasonably easy to follow, but one word in particular had caught his attention.

"You said the 'loons'. Like the bird? What does it mean?"

Soap snickered, shaking his head. "I'm definitely nae oot wi' the birds frae work," he said, grinning again. "Naw, 'loons' is fit we caa boys. An' 'quines' are lassies. Girls, I mean."

Nik supposed that made as much sense as any other foreign language did.

"Well then, let us go find the other 'loons', and we can continue our day, aye?"

Soap laughed at his stilted pronunciation, throwing the styrofoam container from his chips into the bin beside him.

"Da," he answered, his own pronunciation atrocious.