#welcome to scotland

[celticculture]

[thetripbeginswithakiss]

Welcome to Scotland

[drovers1girl-blog]

Just Sam...at home in Scotland....

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The multitude of tiny figures that make up this doormat come together to stand for every aspect of the WELCOME concept, the meaning of which has been increasingly hard to find recently. It’s by street artist Pejac in Aberdeen, Scotland.

It was created for the Nuart Festival 2022 in Aberdeen, Scotland. The theme for the festival was to reconnect the city and its people.

Pejac chose the entrance of a building in the very center of the city of Aberdeen.

This property was specifically chosen because it hosts many charities as well as homes for vulnerable residents facing social exclusion.

https://streetartutopia.com/2022/06/16/the-importance-of-an-open-and-heartfelt-welcome-by-pejac-for-nuart-in-aberdeen-scotland/

[littlechillis]

HE REMEMBERED HIS INSTAGRAM PASSWORD!!! 🤩🤩🤩

[sztupy]

Lidl has some Gaelic doormats

[forever-scotland]

Why are people following me? I'm basically just posting pictures of Nessie here. What happened?

[pvffinsdaisies]

Anyway pls ask me questions abt Scotland- or any/all of the UK siblings. I really badly want to talk about and develop my own headcanons for them.

[mudpuddless]

peoples and clothing // lore

[scotianostra]

Flamingo Land at Loch Lomond plan 'most objected to development in Scottish history' - Daily Record

More objections than the Culloden developments show the feeling among the people of Scotland that this development must not be allowed to happen. It would be the first of many more and would ruin the natural beauty of Loch Lomond

[celticculture]

📷 dave ovenden

[sevenclowds]

just got a new job at the local tourist office doing their social media. guys i’m getting whiplash. i literally spend my days reblogging picturesque scottish mountains or hot emo boys there is no in between

[fantasy--w0rld]

@the-monster-of-scotland

They said she could go anywhere and be anything so she decided to take a trip to Scotland on holiday she heard it was one of the most beautiful places in the world . And they weren't wrong . The view she currently has was just like in the brochure pictures .

She was staying in a small cabin lodge , but currently she was sat on a rock on the banks of loch Ness near the Highland capital of Inverness . She had not had a chance to explore properly yet . She was just enjoying the cool fresh air and the view .

"now this ..... This is perfect " she said out loud unaware that anyone else was there.

[bil202260bb]

I’ll give you a fun night, but you might never see me again? ☺️🩷🥊my name Nova poppy s,c bali20226098

[estherwordnerd]

Me listening to Come From Away as someone part Irish: I know Newfoundlanders aren't actually Irish, there's just cultural crossover in our history so the music and accents can sometimes sound similar.

Also me every time I hear Welcome to the Rock: I'M AN ISLANDER (jumping on table) I AM AN ISLANDER (going feral) I'M AN ISLANDER (stamping and singing so loud our neighbours across the Atlantic can probably hear) I AM AN ISLANDER-

[helianskies]

15 for any ship of your choice

i wasn't sure which ship to pick for this prompt originally but. but then we've been having all this scotspa talk lately and, well... how could i resist? 🧡

Ginger

Antonio stared at his construction. He eyed the dripping icing, the slipping gumdrops, the entire wall that had broken and that he had had to haphazardly ‘glue’ back together. And then he looked at the construction opposite his own, with the perfectly forged lines, the colourful roof tiles, the piped green trees, the two gingerbread men standing in the doorway all smiley and rosy-cheeked…

…and he envied them. He envied those two happy little men to the point of scowling at them with the heat of a summer sun, wishing they would suddenly combust.

But then Alasdair returned to the kitchen, and Antonio slapped a smile onto his own face too—piped on as perfectly as those gingerbread mens' smiles—as he swung around the kitchen table to flick the kettle on.

“Are you winning yet?” Ali asks as he turns back around from the kettle, and his arms fall around Antonio. His head settles onto the Spaniard’s shoulder. “‘S looking good so far.”

“Are you sure about that?” Antonio replies warily. “Personally, I think my gingerbread house needs to be condemned—and soon. Consider it a mercy!”

The other gives a laugh—that gruff puff of air—and he briefly nuzzles against Antonio’s neck. “I reckon it’s got a charm to it,” he says in spite of a certain someone’s scepticism. “Besides, for your first go, it’s not half bad, that.”

The words confuse him. “Not… half bad…?” he repeats slowly, steadily. “So… half good? But— But doesn’t that make it half bad still?”

The laughing returns, but this time, with longevity and greater amusement. Antonio feels a gentle squeeze around his person, and a kiss is smooshed against his cheek in that overly affectionate way that Alasdair has come to do, and that he has come to adore. Though, admittedly, in this context it is only all the more confusing. 

Fortunately for him, Alasdair does not hold out on him: “It’s a compliment, I promise,” he explains. “Like I said, considering it’s your first go at making a gingerbread house, I’m impressed.”

“You really mean that…?”

“Aye. Cross my heart.”

“Alright, well, if you say so,” Antonio responds, a smile—a genuine smile—blooming onto his face. 

At that moment, Alasdair leaves him again in order to tend to the kettle, which is now bubbling furiously behind them. Antonio accepts the offer of a drink—a cuppa, in fact, which he now has to have at least one of a day to feel normal—and returns to his nearly-finished house. The icing is slowly drying. The gingerbread men opposite are not making fun of him as intensely as they were a few minutes before.

Looking at the two of them, nevertheless, reminds Antonio of himself and Alasdair quite plainly. Perhaps that is down to the way the house that Alasdair has made looks like the house they stand in and share. Perhaps that is down to the piped hair—auburn and brunette—and their intricately iced jumpers that are a near-perfect reflection of the ones they currently wear. Brown and green.

Of course, Antonio’s jumper is a stolen one. ‘Purloined’ even (he likes that word). 

It’s been living in Alasdair’s cupboard for over six years, apparently. It’s gained his scent, his warmth, his essence—and now it resides on Antonio’s side of their cupboard. Alasdair knows better than to try and reclaim it (though, frankly, he has never tried) and to now see it depicted in stiff icing on a gingerbread man brings him a sense of belonging he has spent so long searching for.

There is something remarkable about the other, Antonio finds. He’s funny, he’s charming, he’s easy-going, and he’s more caring than he lets on. He thinks briefly of Arthur and Henrique—brothers of brothers in a puzzling square—and the impressions of Alasdair he had before meeting him… and Antonio feels lucky to have seen a whole other side of him…

Before he knows it, the tea is made and a cup is set down in front of him as he finishes icing on the last window. He thanks Ali with a peck to the cheek (a peck, as opposed to a great big stubble-spiked smooch) and says, “I think I might be done,” with a vague sense of pride. Pride, and relief!

“Yeah? Nice,” Alasdair replies. He takes a sip of his drink before setting down his cup, and, without warning, plucks up one of the gingerbread men. “Here,” he says, holding it out to Antonio. “Wrong to have a cuppa without a biscuit.”

Antonio takes the offering after a few seconds, and replies, “I feel bad eating him,” looking at the gingerbread-ified version of Alasdair he has been handed. “He seems so happy at home with his partner. I don’t want to separate them!”

“Ahhh, I forgot how harmless and good-hearted you are,” Alasdair chuckled. “So kind ya can’t even bite the head off a gingerbread man.”

“Are you saying you could?” Antonio returns. “I didn’t think you were so cold, so cruel!”

“Oh aye, I’m a right monster, I am,” Alasdair professes all the same. And just like that, he snatches up the other gingerbread man and bites his head clean off. No warning, no build-up, no remorse.

Antonio stares at him. And then he stares at his decapitated gingery body. And then he looks back at Alasdair, and Antonio can only shake his head and tut. 

“Well then,” he says, “if you wanted to eat me so badly, you should have just asked, tesoro. I would have obliged.”

The way Alasdair nearly chokes on the gingerman's head is satisfying in a way. Antonio helps him cough up the crumbs and drink a little tea to clear his throat—even the dog runs in, worried about the coughing fit—but really, that's what Ali gets for committing such a heinous crime!

[ final wordcount, 970 words; prompt list found here! ]