#between denmark and sweden

[ifindus]

Waiter, waiter!! More Viking Scotnor headcanons please! (If you have any ofc :3 )

Oh no!! Not my weakness!! 😳

Their relationship during the viking age was mostly very amicable, apart from a few minor fights and arguments later on. In contrast to England and Denmark, Norway and Scotland mostly co-existed peacefully beside each other and even developed a friendship. Norway has always been a traveller and would rarely stay in one place for long, but he would often spend his summers and occaionally autumns in his territories close to Scotland before moving along on his next adventure. During these months Norway and Scotland would hang out and Norway would tell Scotland stories about all his adventures out on the sea, exploring westward, as a hired soldier for the Byzantine emperor, helping out Denmark with his wars agaisnt England, and joining Sweden on his trips east. Scotland would think these were the coolest stories and always look forward to Norway's occasional visits. And sometimes Norway would even bring him exotic gifts he'd picked up on his travels.

[toadtoru]

i was reading your likes and dislikes and the “sweden” took me out, why you don’t like it?

i dislike them because sweden is a garbage country with a garbage language.

NO HAHAHSHAHA sorry, it’s because i’m danish and i couldn’t think of things i disliked so i just put sweden.

[grimm-the-tiger]

Studying Scandinavian history is downright painful sometimes. Excuse me, sir, I don't want to read about your weird opinions on racial superiority, I just want to read about Denmark and Sweden kicking each other around like footballs.

[frauenfootball]

Okay, here's my prediction for what I think will happen depending on the teams' form or how their players are doing in the respective clubs + factoring in some chaos within reason in favour of my biases 😅

[wyn-n-tonic]

Saw a tweet like, "This gives Germany an advantage when they come back. They're used to this weather. Denmark isn't." Where the hell do they think Denmark is?

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

ABBA - Waterloo 1974

"Waterloo" is a song by Swedish pop group ABBA, with music composed by Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus and lyrics written by Stikkan Anderson. It is first single of the group's second studio album of the same name, and their first under the Atlantic label in the US. This was also the first single to be credited to the group performing under the name ABBA. The title and lyrics reference the 1815 Battle of Waterloo, and use it as a metaphor for a romantic relationship.

In 1974, "Waterloo" represented Sweden in the 19th edition of the Eurovision Song Contest held in Brighton, winning the contest and beginning ABBA's path to worldwide fame. The song differed from the standard "dramatic ballad" tradition at the contest by its flavour and rhythm, as well as by its performance. ABBA gave the audience something that had rarely been seen before in Eurovision: flashy costumes (including silver platform boots), a catchy uptempo song and simple choreography. It was the first winning entry in a language other than that of their home country; prior to 1973, all Eurovision singers had been required to sing in their country's native tongue, a restriction that was lifted briefly for the contests between 1973 and 1976 (thus allowing "Waterloo" to be sung in English), then reinstated before ultimately being removed again in 1999. Watch the performance in Swedish here. Sveriges Radio released a promo video for "Waterloo" that was directed by film director Lasse Hallström, whose first notable English-language film success was What's Eating Gilbert Grape in 1993. ABBA recorded the German and French versions of "Waterloo" in March and April 1974; the French version was adapted by Alain Boublil, who would later go on to co-write the 1980 musical Les Misérables.

The song shot to number 1 in the UK and stayed there for two weeks, becoming the first of the band's nine UK number 1's, and the 16th biggest selling single of the year in the UK. It also topped the charts in Belgium, Denmark, Finland, West Germany, Ireland, Norway, and Switzerland, while reaching the Top 3 in Austria, France, the Netherlands, Spain, and Sweden. Unlike other Eurovision-winning tunes, the song's appeal transcended Europe: "Waterloo" also topped the charts in South Africa, and reached the Top 10 in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Rhodesia, and the US (peaking at number 6, their third-highest-charting US hit after number 1 "Dancing Queen" and number 3 "Take a Chance on Me"). In 2005, at Eurovision fiftieth anniversary competition Congratulations: 50 Years of the Eurovision Song Contest, "Waterloo" was chosen as the best song in the contest's history.

"Waterloo" is featured in the encore of the musical Mamma Mia!. The song does not have a context or a meaning. It is just performed as a musical number in which members of the audience are encouraged to get up off their seats and sing, dance and clap along. The song is performed by the cast over the closing credits of the film Mamma Mia!, but is not featured on the official soundtrack. It is also performed as part of the story in the sequel, Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, by Hugh Skinner and Lily James.

The Australian film Muriel's Wedding (1994), features "Waterloo" in a pivotal scene in which lead Toni Collette bonds with the character played by Rachel Griffiths. The film's soundtrack, featuring five ABBA tracks, is widely regarded as having helped to fuel the revival of popular interest in ABBA's music in the mid-1990s. "Waterloo" features prominently in the 2015 science-fiction film The Martian. The song plays as the film's lead, played by Matt Damon, works to ready his launch vehicle for a last-chance escape from Mars. In "Mother Simpson", the eighth episode of the seventh season of The Simpsons, Mr. Burns plays "Ride of the Valkyries" from a tank about to storm the Simpson home, but the song is cut-off and "Waterloo" is played, to which Smithers apologizes, advising he "must have accidentally taped over that".

"Waterloo" received a total of 89% yes votes!

(the video is posted by ABBA's own account, not Eurovision's = safe to watch)

[woso-dreamzzz]

World Cup VI

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: It's heartbreaking

It's the worst kind of pain imaginable.

The kind of pain that lodges in a chest, in a throat, in a mind. The kind of pain that radiates throughout a body, weighing on someone, eating away at them until there's nothing left.

Eaten from the inside out.

Until there's nothing left but an empty husk of a person.

To be so close to a dream that will never be reached.

Not now.

Not ever.

It chokes someone from the inside, suffocating them until they can do nothing but accept their fate.

There's not much else to say about it.

The kind of pain that is only really experienced once in a lifetime.

The kind of pain only experienced in extra time of a football match as one last substitute is made.

The board goes up.

"On for number fourteen, number one for Sweden, Harder-Eriksson."

The final of a World Cup.

Sweden, two.

Spain, two.

And the worst person to take penalties against is subbed on.

"No," Talia says as she watches you run on," No, please. Please."

You'd taken a knock in the semifinals against Colombia, a bad one that had you sitting out most of the final.

Selfishly, Talia was glad for it.

The two goals she had scored wouldn't have gone in had you been standing between the sticks.

Had you been on in the beginning, there would have been no extra time.

You are the greatest goalkeeper in the world and you're never out of control in finals.

You thrive under the pressure, under the pressure of the whole world watching your every mood, under the pressure of Magda and Pernille's legacy.

You rise to the occasion every time.

You show why you are so sought after.

Extra time leaks away and the tears already fall as penalties are announced.

Your Sweden team isn't known for their penalty-taking abilities but it hardly matters. All it takes is one penalty to win.

One ball in the back of the net.

You can delay that for as long as you need to.

One goal to win a match.

One goal for a childhood dream to shatter.

One missed save to return to Spain as a World Champion.

But you have never let a penalty passed in your entire career.

Not at Linköping. Not at Arsenal. Not at Barcelona.

Not for Denmark. Not for Sweden.

No penalty has ever escaped you.

The shots are taken in quick succession.

You don't let any pass but neither does Spain's keeper.

The anticipation swells. The tension builds. The camera flashes to fans in the crowd.

To Patri, sitting in the stands with her hands clasped in front of her and a nervous look on her face. Talia has never seen her cousin so shaken before.

She cuts a striking picture against the complete calmness of Magda and Pernille when the camera switches again. They don't look worried in the slightest.

They've always been your biggest supporters, the biggest believers in your ability to do anything you set your mind to. They've seen the talent in you for years.

There is no reason for them to be worried.

Talia takes the ball, the last penalty for Spain.

She steps forward.

You come out of your goal, walking forward towards her until you're face to face.

The conflict is clear on your face.

To anyone else, you look deadly calm. Magda's feature on your face matches your mother's expression in the crowd but Talia can see through it.

The slight furrow of your brow, the downturn of the corner of your mouth. The way that you can't quite meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry," You say as she places the ball on the penalty spot.

"I know," Talia replies.

"I am really sorry, my love. I...I didn't want it to end like this."

"Don't be. Go do what you do best."

Talia's dreams of a World Cup slip through her fingers in an instant. She usually shoots right, in the top corner. This time though, she'll shoot left to the bottom.

Pernille sits up in the stands as you back away from Talia, returning to your line.

The stadium holds its breath.

A home World Cup win would mean the world to Sweden. To defeat the hosts would mean the world to Spain.

But you stand in their way.

A formidable force between the sticks with more experience than most your age and an unshakeable spirit that intimidates by just your mere presence on the pitch.

"She's got this," Magda whispers to her, clasping Pernille's hand tight," Even if it is Talia."

The stadium ripples with anticipation, shouts escaping throats as Talia lets the ball fly...

Your familiar red jersey moves, your black gloves reaching out.

Your body crashes to the ground.

A millisecond too late and the ball would have gone in.

Your fingertips manage to brush it away though, forcing it away from your line.

The knock to Spain's confidence is big.

It can be felt all around the stadium and just a box away, Pernille sees Patri bury her head in her hands.

Sweden's last penalty is taken quickly.

Scored even quicker by your captain.

A title defended on home soil. The triumph of Sweden over Spain.

The crowd is electric and Magda pumps her fist into the air, screaming like she'd just won this herself and Pernille hauls herself out of her seat to head down to the barriers with her wife to greet you.

The crowd is nothing compared to the roaring in Talia's ears as that pain settles into her bones and gnaws away at her muscles.

She falls to the floor, breathing in a ragged breath as a childhood dream slips away from her.

"I'm sorry," She can hear over her sobs," My love, I'm so sorry."

Familiar arms wrap around her. A familiar smell filling her senses and she grabs onto a familiar red jersey, pulling at it and forcing herself even closer.

"Go," She says," And celebrate."

"No," You reply, sitting down next to her and guiding her head to your shoulder where she could cry without cameras watching her," I'm staying right here."

"Your mothers-"

"Can wait," You insist," I want to be here. With you."

You've singlehandedly ruined Natalia's dreams. You had dangled a World Cup in her face and snatched it away again.

It was so close.

She was so close to being the first person to ever score a penalty against you.

Mere inches sat between her and the World Cup.

But you'd ruined it. You anticipated her change. You pushed away her penalty.

Last time, you'd scored Sweden's only goal. This year, you'd saved all of Spain's penalties.

You are Sweden's hero. Sweden's golden girl. Sweden's vice-captain and the greatest goalkeeper they've ever produced.

There is no hope of competing against you.

A World Cup won and a World Cup lost.

Magda and Pernille wait by the barrier. Talia can see them, ready to celebrate with you.

But you don't go anywhere.

You just hold her as she cries.

[just-a-ghost00]

Your next significant relationship - Who? When? Where?

Group 1 - Controler

Letters : N U Z E D M L K I O S Significant words/names/signs : SKZ, nudes, suki, soul, miso, sun, zen, Leo, kids, Nike, Mike, lion, Leon, noise, sound, Link, links, Dion, Zeus, Odin, Oden, onze (french for 11), douze (french for 12), uno, dos/due, dom, Muse, likes, silk, sold, DMs, solid, kudos, doki, slime, smile, Milo, miko

WHO ? - The Empress / STRENGTH / Herkimer diamond : power wash your energy This person is not what they seem. They may look harsh on the surface but deep down they are as fragile as Quartz. People may only judge them based on their looks and not who they are at there core. They are beautiful without a doubt. Extremely sensual and feminine. Their beauty feels ethereal. They are highly sensitive and spiritual. They could be a healer. The Herkimer diamond card mentions New York's Mohawk Valley where it can be found. So maybe this person is a New Yorker or they would like to travel to New York. With the strength card being related to fire, this person could have important fire placements in their chart (Leo, Sagittarius, Aries). They are powerful and determined. They know what they want and they won't back down no matter what you put them through. Though this person is affected by what people think of them, they would rather die than show it. They could have red hair. Their hair is rather long and straight. They like to wear bracelets. They are connected to the stars. They are grounded and protected by the universe. The Empress is also assiocated with Taurus. They present themselves as a woman. They feel close to their ancestors. It might be that there were warriors in their bloodline. Especially women. Their women ancestors were fierce in battle and they like to take after them and ask for their guidance. I'm feeling a strong connection to witches and shamans.

WHERE ? - 9 of swords / UNDERWORLD / Barite : get answers to your biggest questions. Places this person could be from or have been to at some point are : USA -> Nevada, Misouri, Georgia, Texas / China / India / Morocco / Mexico / Iran / Kazakhstan / Canada / Australia / Thailand / Nigeria / Peru / UK -> Scotland The 9 of swords card shows imagery of a woman lying down in the snow, with mountains in the background. So this person could live in a cold climate country/region. I'm thinking of the Alps, Himalaya, Caucasus, Alaska range. I'm thinking about Sweden, Denmark, Netherlands, Russia, Groenland, Iceland. Any city starting with a U or a B. Furthermore the character on the card has a dress with an important amount of stars on it, which reminded me of the European Union flag. In terms of the meeting, it could be through social media. The underworld card gives me a sense of mystery, of something being hidden. So it could be the dark web for some. Or on a website that keeps things hidden from people (i.e. content available only for subscribers or a private account). Also you could meet them in your dreams before you meet in 3D. Also, the underworld could be a metaphor for rave parties, clubs and so on. They could live or you could meet near an important building or monument.

WHEN ? - XXI The World / NATURE / Labradorite : protect your magic. The labradorite card mentions Aurora Borealis and the sign of Pisces. So Winter could be relevant, as well as the period from mid February to mid March. The number 21 could be relevent. So if we think in terms of dates it could be 02.21 or 03.21. The World speaks of cycles as well as the long term. So it could represent several years in terms of timing. When it comes to zodiac signs, The World is related to fixed signs. So Taurus, Leo, Scorpio and Aquarius season could be relevant as well. Which means that you could meet them between mid April to mid May, mid July to mid August, mid October to mid November or mid January to mid February. The World could also represent a time of your life when you are traveling abroad. Again, the character depicted on the card has a lot of stars in their hair. So I'm thinking of the USA as well as the EU. As she is dressed in red, holds red roses and has horns on her head, I'm also being reminded of Spain. The nature card could talk about a time of your life when you are in the wild, connecting with nature, taking a break from the drama of big city life.

Group 2 - Phone

Letters : T E N N U L N O R I S Significant words/names/signs : tennis, Noris, Noe, Noel, runs, Euro, sun, tenor, soul, norns, nine, tunes, Sonne (Rammstein song), Uriel, notes, nuns, trio, route, routines, Riolu (pokémon name), Loire (region in France), Lorie, LOTR, rise, sonnet, soir (french word for evening), nuit (french for night), riots, Lise, lotus

WHO? - IV The Emporor / Sacred Sexuality / Sapphire : find your tranquil place. This person is very masculine and grounded. They could be a father and/or a leader, a mentor, an entrepreneur. The sign of Aries could be significant. They are incredibly determined and strong. Their sexual drive is high. They pay a lot of attention to their health and appearance. They have a lot of sex appeal. This person could be in the fashion industry or could even be that they get money from people watching their body (selling pictures of them, having access to private erotic content). They could have a bit of a bad temper. Piercings also seem significant. On the sacred sexuality card, there’s a full moon and roses. This tell me this person is a romantic and is more of a night owl. They have an important status. We’re talking about company owners, freelance artists, lawyers, head officers, doctors, headmasters of big schools, politicians and so on.

WHERE? - 6 of swords / MOVEMENT / Garnet : get into your depth. -> places they could be from or have gone to : Czekoslovakia, Kenya, Madagascar, India. The 6 of swords depicts a beautiful woman rowing a boat on a lake. Behind her is a white mountain. In her boat are two herons. So Africa seems significant, particularly Tanzania where Kilimandjaro can be found. I’m also thinking of the Mt Fuji in Japan, in Yamanashi. This person lives near an important body of water. Or you might meet them there. Another thing that is significant is movement. So you could meet them where you’re going on a trip, as you travel or relocate. You could meet them on a boat. Anyplace you want to create something (art, music, writing and so on). When looking at « get into your depth » this gives me the feeling you could meet this person in the 5D before meeting them in person, like through dreams or meditation.

WHEN? Queen of wands and VI The Lovers - DARE TO DREAM - Citrine : manifest your masterpiece. First of all I have to say, when I was shuffling the cards for the WHEN? the bells of the nearby Church started ringing. So this tells me when you're going to Church either for communion or for a wedding. Summer is significant, especially from mid June to mid July. I would even say the month of June is the most significant of the two. When you go after your dreams, you will meet this person. On the DARE TO DREAM card, you can see a diamond trapped in an eagle's claw. For some reasons it reminded me of metal and rock bands, of concerts and big events like the Superbowl. So maybe one of your dreams is to go watch your favorite band/artist live or to go to Hellfest or any big convention that is happening in Summer. If there are any French people here, I'm thinking of the Olympics happening this Summer in Paris. And also the Japan Expo convention. In terms of timing, I’d say in a few months.

Group 3 - Mirror

First of all I want to say my coffee spilled as I did your reading. So either you or this person is super clumsy and/or coffee is significant in your relationship. Letters : E L I C O O E U J I A Y

Words/names/signs : Jay, Jey, Joy, Jolie, Julia, Julie, Jule, July, Lucy, cool, jail, Luc, Loïc, Alice, ciel (French for Sky), clue, juice, école (French for school), eco , CEO, Lucie, Lucia, Cloe

WHO? - XVII The Star / Ancestors / Obsidian : protect your soul. Aquarius comes in strongly for this reading. This person is an introvert. They are often seen as a daydreamer, someone that doesn’t care about earthly life. They look like their head is in the stars. Which, in some way is true. This person connects strongly with the Ethers. Social media seems to be important. They could be an influencer or have a certain amount of followers that they help. Think of tarot readings, raising awareness about certain subjects (mental health, disabilities, menstrual cycle, sexuality and so on). This person could be famous in some type of way or they are going to be at some point in their life. Overall they have a good reputation among their peers. They are valued for their work ethic and their deep insights. They are divinely protected. Family business comes to mind. They care about family a lot, especially the deceased ones. This person would be the type to seek out advice from their ancestors or try to honor them as much as they can. Scorpio is also a sign that seems relevant. I don’t know why but I thought of a surgeon. So maybe they have undergone an important surgery. Or they are very sharp. Because I definitely don’t feel this person is a surgeon. Well it could be, but honestly I feel more the energy of influencers and public speakers, like ambassadors of NGOs and stuff like that. Soft and caring, they feel and look rather feminine. Giving more than receiving. They love animals. They draw a lot of attention just from their presence. I think their aura is pretty strong and vibrant. Connected to nature, especially trees and plants.

WHERE? - 7 of pentacles / movement / Herkimer diamond You could meet at work, as you’re changing jobs or they are. During a break at work while you’re printing/scanning papers. In sacred spaces. New York. Somewhere in a lot of greenery like a park or a farm. As for places they could come from or have been to, we have : Norway, Ukraine, Arizona, China, Afghanistan, Herkimer county. If not these places, there could be farms where this person lives. Also they live in a place where there is a lot of activity, especially work wise. So this makes me think of hot spots like La Défense in Paris where a lot of businesses and political administrations can be found. Other places like that would be : Midtown New York, La City London, Marunouchi Tokyo, The Loop Chicago, Bankenviertel Frankfurt, Zuidas Amsterdam, Gangnam Seoul and so on.

WHEN? - 4 of swords / Death / Aquamarine : Keep your cool. You could meet on the fourth of a month, in April. At a time when you’ve lost your voice or when you are going Hermit mode, when you are sick or when you are mourning a loss. During a period of depression. During Scorpio season. In several weeks. Also it could be when someone or something pushes your buttons but you can’t express your frustration somehow. That could be anything really. Like queueing for registration in a building and someone is trying to take your spot. Or shopping at the mall and a customer is being super rude but since there are children around you can’t fully tell this person what you think of their attitude. Stuff like that.

[wosoamazing]

Little Warrior

Kristie Mewis x Sam Kerr x Child!R Warning: Seizures, Vomiting (once)

Just a reminder that everyone experiences things differently and there are many different types of Seizures and Seizure first aid is different from person to person (I have based these off something I know and have experience with - because of people in my life)

It was the day after your Mum’s game against Denmark, and two days since your Mama had played Sweden. Only your Mum was continuing in the tournament, your Mama having been knocked out. However you don’t really mind, as it means you get to spend more time with your Mama in the coming days, but currently you are with your Mum as your Mama was at a lunch with her team. As your Mum is still in the tournament you also get to spend more time with Harper too, you usually only see Harper sometimes, as you are very well integrated into the Chelsea team (Emma can’t stand Millie, Erin and Guro’s whining when you aren’t there so she insists on you being there for training, and media days, and matches, and recovery and everything else). However, today you didn’t want to play with Harper, you were more quiet and reserved than usual, so your Mum made sure she kept a close eye on you, she had a feeling as to why you were more quiet and she would hate it if she wasn’t there for you when it happened. 

You were sitting between Caitlin’s legs, as you rested back against the couch when it happened, and your Mum immediately noticed out of the corner of her eye.

“Cait don’t move, she’s having a seizure,” your Mum says very calmly, almost too calm for Caitlin, but she reminds herself that you’ve had these for quite some time now, and although you haven’t had one in a while you used to have them often. Macca and Alanna made quick work of getting everyone to leave the room to give you and your Mum some privacy and Steph has gone to get some things your Mum might need when you wake up.

Your body has sagged against Caitlin’s leg and your eyes rolled back, your eyelids continue to flutter as your spit runs down the front of you and Caitlin’s leg slowly, however that is the least of her worries currently.

“You’re okay baby girl, you’re doing great,” Sam tells you as she sees you start to come too.

“Mummy,” you whine before you start crying, and reaching aimlessly for her, she quickly plucks you from Caitlin’s legs and balances you on her knee as she takes your shirt, which is soaked down the front, and used the back of it to quickly wipe majority of the wetness off your face and neck before allowing you to collapse into her chest, rubbing your back as you fist the material of her shirt tightly. She stands up and starts bouncing you and she walks, hoping to calm you down, eventually the motion soothes you and you fall asleep, your seizure leaving you exhausted.

Steph comes in with some towels and your water bottle filled with cold water, along with your stuffy and blanky. She passes a towel to Caitlin who wiped her leg dry.

“Do you want us to call Kristie?” Caitlin asks.

“She’s having lunch with the team before they all go Mum,” your Mum says.

“Sam, I’m sure she would leave anything for either of you, no matter how important the event and I think she would want to know,” Steph told her, causing her to sigh and nod slightly.

“I’m here, is she okay?” Your Mama asked as she walked into the room, you had started to wake up slightly and made grabby hands for her as you heard her voice and so your Mum placed you into her arms.

“Ow-Out” you mumbled into her chest as she rocked you side to side.

“You want to go for a walk?” Kristie asked you and you clumsily nodded your head.

“Do you guys want to come for a walk outside with us? It’s all good if not,” Sam asked Steph and Caitlin who nodded their heads. Kristie continued to hold you against her chest as they started to walk outside, you seemed to be waking up more, laughing slightly at some of the jokes the adults made, and you seemed less floppy.

-

“Mama” you slowly slur, before your body goes limp in Kristie’s arms, causing all four women to stop walking and Kristie to lean up against the building, it wasn’t unusual for you to have multiple seizures in a row, and so they just had to ride it out.

An alarm on Sam’s watch went off, and she realised it was time for the team meeting, “You guys go. Thank you, can you just tell Tony what's going on?”

“Absolutely, let us know if you need anything,” Steph said before they both headed back inside.

“Come on baby girl, we’ve got you, we just need you to come back to us,” your Mama said as they waited for you to come too.

“When is our next appointment?” Sam asked

“4 months still-” she was cut off by you stirring, “oh hey baby girl, you’re okay, Mummy and Mama are here and we were just outside,” Kristie says as you whine.

“Do you want a towel?” “It’s all good, I’ll need a new shirt anyway,” Kristie told her as she used the bottom of her shirt to wipe your face, whilst she continued to comfort you, rocking you side to side.

“Should we go get some dinner baby girl? Mama come with us?” Sam asked as you laid on her chest now, your Mum’s felt more comfort in you sleeping on them when you had seizures as you couldn’t suffocate yourself, it was also recommended not to move you if your face was uncovered when you had a seizure so holding you meant that they could provide you more comfort and it also meant you wouldn’t hit your head. It helped that you were always tired and clingy after your seizures so you liked sleeping on them.

“You sure I’m allowed, I mean I-” “After the day we had I don’t think Tony would mind and I don’t want to rub salt in the wound or anything but its not like-” “It’s not like I can cheat or anything anymore, yeah okay,” They got up out of the bed, having travelled there after you last seizure and started to get ready to go down for dinner.

-

“Do you want some dinner bubba?” Your Mum asked you as you entered the room, and you shook your head, “That’s okay, why doesn’t Mama take you to got sit at a table with her and I’ll get us some food,” you were transferred between your Mum’s arms and Kristie went to sit down at the table with Steph, and EVE, it was the start of dinner so not everyone was in there yet.

Kristie was eating with one hand as her other held you, who was still lying on her chest, when your body suddenly felt light a dead weight, Sam quickly put one of the towels they have just encase on Kristie’s shoulder before carefully guiding your head, which had flopped back, onto Kristie’s shoulder, you having been looking at Steph just moments ago.

“Oh baby girl, you’re not having a good day are you,” Kristie cooed at you.

“Mama, we sit with y/n tonight?” Sam heard Harper ask Mini as they walked into the dinning room, Mini looked up at Sam who shook her head.

“Not tonight Harps, y/n/n isn’t feeling very well, but maybe tomorrow night.” Sam could hear Harper start whining and she felt bad for Mini as she shouldn’t have to be dealing with a meltdown by Harper but it was what was best, especially for Harper who wouldn’t understand what was going on.

“Hey bubba,” Sam said as you started whining, “here I’ll take you, you eat,” she said as she took you into her arms, your whining turning into full on cries, she took you out into the common room and started walking around as she bounced you trying to get you to calm down. You lifted your head and looked at her, “Hey bubba, you’re okay, I’m here and I can go get Mama,” she said just before you gaged. “Okay, okay, it’s okay bubba,” she said as you vomited on her, just as Kristie walked out.

“Shit, should we take her to the medics?” Kristie asked and Sam nodded before they walked to the medics, where you were stripped and Sam took her top off, before you cuddled back into her, and Sam suddenly felt the heat radiating off you.

“She’s got a fever, only slightly, it’s most likely the stomach flu, just keep her hydrated and rested but if her condition worsens or you're concerned with her seizures call us and we’ll be right up. But she should be all good.” The medic said as she handed your Mama some sick bags and bowls, before they walked out of the room and back up to yours and your Mum’s.

“Well at least we know why she had the seizures and it's not her medication not working anymore,” Sam sighed as they stood in the elevator, illness was one of your seizure triggers and you would commonly have seizures before you got sick, you just hadn’t been sick in some time.

“We’re still going to be up all night though,” Kristie said, “but you sleep, you need it more than me, I’ll stay up, and you're more likely to get sick yourself because you’ve been with her so you need the rest.”

Your Mums sent a message to the group chat before they gave you a bath and got you ready for bed. They spent the rest of the night staying up, for a different reason to what they would’ve originally thought.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | honeymoon special

You and Yoongi travel to Scandinavia for your honeymoon, well more like babymoon. You camp, fish, hike and enjoy nature as you always do, and you even go surfing! 

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 8.8k → Warnings (explicit): semi-public sex (in a caravan on a campsite), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, nudity, oral (female and male receiving), breast play (sucking, slight biting), hickeys, squirting, deepthroating, creampie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, pleasing kink → Author’s note(1): another extra for friendcation is here! 🥳 I hope you enjoy this one too! 💜  → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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When Yoongi revealed that he had already booked your honeymoon, you envisioned a sun-soaked paradise where you could bask in the golden warmth, bathe in crystal-clear waters, and revel in the essence of summer. But instead of tropical shores, you found yourself in the rugged mountains of Norway, on the cusp of autumn, where nature whispered secrets in the crisp, cool air. Yoongi had chosen this destination, a place forever etched in his heart from a trip with friends many years ago. He longed to share its raw, breathtaking beauty with you, and as you stood there, surrounded by towering peaks and pristine wilderness, you had to admit—the splendor was undeniable. Majestic mountains embraced the horizon, and the forest teemed with life—graceful deer gliding silently among the trees, playful squirrels darting about in a dance of their own.

For nearly a week, you nestled in a quaint cottage deep within the mountains, cocooned in the serene tranquility of nature. Each day, the world seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor every moment in this hidden paradise. But now, a new adventure beckons as your journey takes you onward to Denmark, with the enchanting landscapes of Sweden to explore first. The anticipation of Swedish forests, mirrored lakes, and ancient woodlands fills you with a quiet excitement, promising more adventures and moments of serene beauty.

The weather is a delicate dance between warm sunlight and the early September chill, hinting at the approach of autumn. Your journey from Norway to Sweden unfolds by bus, and upon arrival, a picturesque walk from the bus stop to your next secluded cottage awaits. The lightness of your luggage, carefully packed with warm clothes, turns the trek into an enjoyable prelude to the days ahead. You silently thank Yoongi for the foresight to pack hiking boots, as the rugged terrain tests your endurance. But the challenge is worth it, as each evening is rewarded with the simple pleasure of curling up in Yoongi’s arms, his hands soothing your tired feet as the day’s adventures fade into the warmth of the firelight.

In the Swedish cabin, time flows effortlessly, unburdened by the outside world. Yoongi, ever the thoughtful partner, prepares mouthwatering meals with ingredients fresh from the surrounding land, and with patient hands, he teaches you the art of fishing—a skill that had always eluded you on previous vacations. His steady guidance, coupled with whispered advice to remain silent, keeps the fish from fleeing, and you manage to catch a few, only to release them back into their watery home with a sense of reverence. Days are spent hiking the rolling hills and dense forests, each return to the cabin marked by the comforting embrace of each other’s arms, the crackle of the fire, and the soft murmur of the wilderness outside. Time slips away like water through your fingers, and before you know it, you’re packing for the next chapter of your journey.

The bus carries you southward, where a train awaits to whisk you to Denmark. There, just outside Copenhagen, you rent a car and a charming caravan trailer, your home on wheels for the next leg of your adventure. Denmark’s landscape, while familiar to Sweden’s, carries its own unique charm—its language more rough, its fields more open, a reminder that every place, like every person, has its own distinct personality.

Both you and Yoongi present your driver’s licenses, receive the keys, and locate your vehicles with the excitement of a new journey just beginning. Yoongi takes the wheel, his hands confidently guiding you northward to a place called Thy, a region he had spoken of with a quiet reverence. The local radio station fills the car with the lively tunes of Danish pop music, and as the road unfolds before you, a bridge rises to meet the horizon. You recline into your seat, lulled by the soothing rhythm of the road beneath you, when Yoongi mentions needing a break. He spots a rest stop, effortlessly maneuvering into a spacious parking area, and for a moment, the world outside pauses, allowing you both to take a breath and savor the journey that lies ahead.

Yoongi quickly exits, making a beeline for the restrooms, while you step out, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. The late hour casts a golden glow, the sun hanging low on the horizon, bathing the world in a warm, amber light that feels like a fleeting embrace. Around you, the scene is tranquil yet alive—lush green trees stand as silent sentinels, large trucks and trailers rest like sleeping giants, and an array of cars glimmer under the fading daylight. Your gaze drifts to a small store nearby, and you consider the idea of grabbing a meal, but something else catches your attention. A group of young men huddles around a car with its hood propped open, their faces etched with worry, a silent image of distress. Though the intricacies of engines elude you, Yoongi’s knack for mechanics brings a knowing smile to your lips. Almost as if sensing the moment, he appears beside you, his hand finding yours with effortless grace.

You gesture toward the troubled vehicle, your voice soft yet tinged with curiosity. “Do you think we should ask if they need help?”

Yoongi clears his throat, a quiet confidence in his nod, always eager to lend a hand when cars are involved. Together, you approach the trio and their ailing car, a shared purpose drawing you forward.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks in English, his voice carrying a note of calm assurance. Two of the young men exchange giggles, their reason a mystery, but the one peering under the hood turns to Yoongi with relief plain in his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“I’m a mechanic. I don’t mind taking a look,” Yoongi replies, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veined forearms, a sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “Babe, can you grab me a flashlight?” he asks, his voice gentle, and you’re quick to comply, retrieving it from the rental car. As the sun sinks lower, each sliver of light becomes precious, a fleeting gift for Yoongi’s hands to work by.

With the flashlight in hand, you stand close, watching Yoongi immerse himself in the task, his focus as sharp and radiant as the golden hour surrounding you both. His expertise becomes a quiet melody in the twilight, a dance of hands and metal that feels almost sacred in its simplicity.

“I’m Jonas, by the way. Thanks for looking at the car,” the young man says, stepping away to rejoin his laughing friends, a moment of lightness amidst their concern. You watch him playfully slap one of them on the arm, the sound of laughter briefly filling the air before your attention returns to Yoongi. You adjust the flashlight, its beam following the precise movements of his hands as he examines the engine. Yoongi lets out those soft, endearing noises he makes when deeply engrossed in a task, a habit he likely doesn’t even realize he has, but one that always stirs something deep within you. This moment is no different. Watching him work with such intensity sends warmth through you, a reminder of why you cherish these shared moments, even in the most unexpected places.

Grease begins to smudge his hands as he delves deeper under the hood, reattaching a loose valve and checking fluid levels with the practiced ease of someone who has spent years mastering his craft. Over time, you’ve absorbed a few of his car maintenance tips, knowledge passed on in quiet moments like these. Yoongi steps back from the car, a signal for you to turn off the flashlight, and you comply as Jonas, his brows knit with lingering concern, approaches to hear Yoongi’s verdict.

“I reattached a loose valve,” Yoongi explains, his tone measured and thoughtful, “and you’re low on radiator fluid. Be cautious when you drive; the car could overheat. You should refill it as soon as possible. Do you live nearby? It’s risky to drive far in this condition.”

The young man nods, gratitude and relief mingling in his expression. And as you stand there, bathed in the fading light, you can’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction in the simple act of helping, of being there in that moment with Yoongi, where the beauty of the setting sun is matched only by the warmth of his presence beside you.

Jonas nods, a wave of relief washing over his face. “We live close—we’re almost home. I’ll drive carefully and contact my mechanic tomorrow,” he says, offering a grateful smile. Yet, as his friends snicker behind him, their eyes linger on you with a gaze that feels like a brush of unwelcome heat, as if you’re some forbidden temptation. “Thank you so much for your help,” Jonas adds, shaking Yoongi’s hand with a vigor that speaks to his gratitude, pulling him into a spontaneous hug.

Yoongi returns the gesture with warmth, clearly pleased to have made a difference. As he walks back to you, you notice him wiping his greasy hands together in a futile attempt to clean them, a small smile playing on your lips at the sight.

You greet him with a smoldering gaze, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, a kiss that holds both affection and a touch of mischief. Are you putting on a show for the boys who ogled you earlier? Absolutely. As you pull away, you lean into his ear, your voice a whisper in English, “You always look so damn hot when you’re working. I can’t wait for you to fuck me later.” Your words are barely audible, yet you catch the sound of one of the guys choking in surprise, a wicked smile curling your lips as you take Yoongi’s hand. With a playful wave to the three gaping men, you turn and saunter back to your rental car, feeling Yoongi’s hand squeeze your ass with a low chuckle.

“You’re such a good and dirty girl,” he murmurs, his words a spark that sends warmth pooling in your core. His praise, his touch, his very presence—everything about him ignites the fire within you.

Slipping back into the car, Yoongi starts the engine, the soft rumble beneath you a prelude to the journey ahead. The night deepens as you drive, the world outside dissolving into shadows and starlight, the road a ribbon of dark velvet stretching toward the unknown. Hours later, you arrive at a quiet camping ground nestled in the northern wilderness. Yoongi picks a spot at random, the exhaustion of the day evident in the slump of your bodies. He parks and turns off the car, the silence of the night settling around you like a blanket.

Yoongi sets to work preparing the caravan, a compact haven of white and beige. Inside, it holds a tiny kitchen with a sink, fridge, and portable stove, a dining area that converts into a bed, bunks that will remain untouched, and a small bathroom. As he transforms the dining space into a bed, you slip out of your clothes and into one of his shirts, the familiar scent of him comforting against your skin. Yoongi follows suit, and after brushing your teeth together, you both crawl into bed, the weight of the day melting away in the warmth of each other’s presence. 

He spoons you, his body pressing close, and you feel the unmistakable hardness against your ass, a thrill of desire sparking within you. Unable to resist, you grind back into him, eliciting quick, needy sounds that only fuel your own arousal. You turn to capture his lips in a kiss, your voice breathless as you whisper how much you need him.

Without a word, he turns you over, his hands deftly pulling down your panties and sliding his own underwear aside. The moment he enters you, a sigh escapes your lips, the smooth glide of him filling you completely, a perfect fit that sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. He moves with a rhythm that drives you wild, each thrust deeper, more urgent, as his hand finds your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. The pleasure builds, coiling tight within you until it snaps, your climax washing over you in a wave of pure ecstasy. He follows soon after, his warm release filling you as he grunts against your neck, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder.

In the afterglow, he gently pulls your panties back up, his touch tender as you both settle into the bed, the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. Exhaustion pulls you under, and with the comforting weight of Yoongi beside you, you drift into a deep, contented sleep, the echoes of your shared passion lingering in the quiet night.

Morning breaks with the gentle chorus of birdsong and sunlight spilling into the caravan like liquid gold. You groan softly, stretching your limbs as Yoongi stirs beside you, his warmth anchoring you to the comfort of the moment. The new day whispers promises of fresh adventures, but for now, you linger in the serenity, savoring the feel of his body close to yours.

“Morning, babe,” he murmurs, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his hair tousled in a way that only adds to his effortless charm.

“Morning, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, a gentle exchange of warmth before you rise to greet the day. The morning routine is simple and sweet—brushing teeth and hair, sharing a light breakfast—each small act grounding you in the shared rhythm of your lives.

Stepping outside, the landscape unfolds before you, vast and open, dotted with tufts of grass and stretches of sand. The air is brisk, carrying the salty tang of the sea and the constant, soothing lull of waves crashing against the distant shore. You inhale deeply, the cold, invigorating air filling your lungs as you take Yoongi’s hand, the two of you setting off to explore the campground, the natural beauty around you awakening with the first light of day. The world is still in its early stirrings, granting you a peaceful solitude, a shared quiet that feels almost sacred.

As you stroll, the calm is broken by the sight of an elderly couple walking past—naked. You exchange a startled glance with Yoongi, his expression mirroring your own surprise. The closer you draw to the beach, the more you realize that everyone around you is unabashedly bare, the air thick with a sense of freedom that feels, to you, both strange and out of place. Overdressed and bemused, you settle down on the sandy shore, leaning into Yoongi as you take in the unexpected scene.

“What is this place?” you murmur, half-amused, half-bewildered by the sight of naked bodies in every direction. Yoongi chuckles, pulling out his phone to solve the mystery. Moments later, his laughter bubbles up, contagious and bright.

“It’s a nudist campsite and beach,” he explains, his eyes sparkling with amusement as realization dawns on you. Laughter spills from your lips, a shared moment of levity in the midst of this peculiar discovery. There’s something admirable about the courage of those around you, their ease in embracing their natural state, even if it’s not a comfort you share. With a grin, you tell Yoongi that while you can appreciate their confidence, you’d much rather prefer a different campsite—one where the only naked body you see is his, perhaps later tonight.

The day unfolds in a series of light-hearted decisions and shared smiles. Later, you venture into the chilly embrace of the sea, donning your swimwear despite the nudist surroundings. The water is cold, biting against your skin, yet it awakens something within you—an invigorating contrast to the warmth of the morning, cleansing and bracing. Afterward, you drive into a nearby town for lunch, soaking in the lively atmosphere, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the sound of laughter. Hand in hand, you wander through quaint shops, not seeking anything in particular, but relishing the simple pleasure of being together.

The hours pass in a blend of humor and quiet adventure, each moment wrapped in the comfort of Yoongi’s presence. Together, you weave through the day, creating a tapestry of memories that feel destined to become cherished stories—reminders of the joy found in the unexpected, and the beauty of sharing life’s quirks with the one you love.

You return to the campsite, hitching the caravan back to the rental car, eager to find a new haven—a place where the landscape is as private as your desires. The drive is peaceful, the miles slipping away under a sky that deepens into twilight, leading you to a secluded campground far removed from the nudist site. As night falls, you settle into the quiet embrace of nature, the only witnesses to your evening the stars that begin to shimmer above.

Under a canopy of twinkling lights, you and Yoongi sit side by side on a pair of worn stools, warm cups of tea in hand. The night is cool, the air crisp, and the silence between you is companionable, filled with the unspoken understanding that comes from years of shared moments like this. The sky stretches out endlessly above, a vast canvas of dark velvet scattered with diamonds, and you both soak in its serene beauty, letting the tranquility of the moment wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

Later, you retreat to the warmth of your caravan, its small space transformed into a world of your own. Curled up in bed, you lean in for a kiss, the softness of his lips familiar yet always thrilling. Your fingers find the waistband of his boxers, and with a deliberate slowness, you peel them away, revealing his hard cock that you always crave. Your desire for him is insatiable, a fire that never dims, only burns hotter with each passing touch.

Wearing nothing beneath your nightshirt, your slick arousal greets him as you straddle his hips, a low moan escaping your lips as you grind down, the friction intoxicating. The rough texture of his pubic hair against your sensitive skin, the solid heat of his cock against your aching pussy—every sensation drives you wild, fueling the need that pulses through you.

Dripping with want, you wrap your hands around his thick dick, guiding him to your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him. The stretch is exquisite, your body accommodating him inch by inch until your ass meets his pelvis, the fullness making you gasp.

“Fuck, you’re always so big,” you pant, the words tumbling out as pleasure ripples through you, your head falling back in ecstasy.

His groan is guttural, raw, as his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin, his need for you as urgent as yours for him. “Taking me so good, baby,” he rasps, already breathless, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You hum in response, setting a steady rhythm as you begin to move, your hands splayed against his chest for balance. Leaning forward, you press kisses to his collarbones, his neck, your breath hitching as you whisper into his ear, “Get me pregnant, Yoon.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a reaction as instant as it is powerful, the mere idea pushing him closer to the edge. His grip tightens, possessive, and he begins to thrust up into you, his movements seeking control as he chases that intoxicating thought. His hips snap against yours with a newfound urgency, his pace relentless as he drives deeper, harder.

He holds you still as he pounds into your warm, wet heat, each thrust tearing a scream from your throat. You try to muffle your cries, aware of the thin caravan walls and the nearby campers, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and it’s impossible to stay quiet under his relentless onslaught.

Together, you find a rhythm, a perfect synchrony that sends you both hurtling toward the edge. He hits your g-spot with precision, over and over, until the coil in your stomach tightens to the point of breaking. With a choked cry, you unravel around him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves as your body releases a rush of liquid heat, soaking his cock as you convulse in his arms.

Panting, you cling to him, your body shuddering as he continues to move, his pace unyielding until you collapse against his chest, utterly spent. It’s more intimate like this, your bodies pressed close, and as you whisper filthy promises in his ear, nipping at his lobe, he comes inside you with a deep groan, filling you with his warmth as he grunts against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in lazy kisses.

You both gasp for breath, slick with sweat and the mingled scent of your lovemaking. He cleans you gently with a towel, his touch tender, before pulling you back into his arms. You drift off to sleep in his embrace, safe and sated, just as you love to.

The terrain here is gentler, the low elevations a welcome reprieve from the rugged mountains of Norway and Sweden. Your days have been spent in quiet contentment, the two of you fishing in the calm waters, the simplicity of the act bringing a sense of peace. Words aren’t needed in these moments, the silence speaking volumes as you sit side by side, casting lines and sharing smiles.

One day, you take a bus into Aarhus, the city buzzing with life on a cold Friday night. The decision to take public transport is an easy one—no need to worry about driving as you plan to indulge in the vibrant nightlife. The contrast between the quiet days spent in nature and the energy of the city is exhilarating, and you look forward to a night of laughter and exploration, knowing that whatever the evening holds, it will be another memory to cherish with Yoongi by your side.

You’re adorned in a flowing dress that sways with every step, its fabric catching the cool breeze of mid-September. Warm boots hug your feet, grounding you as you navigate the lively streets. Yoongi walks beside you, his own boots echoing softly against the cobblestones. He’s dressed in jeans, a fitted shirt, and a cozy jacket that accentuates his broad shoulders. You’re wrapped in a jacket too, its warmth a welcome shield against the evening chill that settles in like a whisper from autumn itself.

The streets pulse with life, alive with throngs of people—mostly the young and inebriated, their laughter loud and words slurred, their steps unsteady as they weave through the neon-lit night. You and Yoongi sip your drinks, savoring the night with a quiet restraint, the alcohol a gentle warmth rather than a dizzying rush. Neon signs bathe the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, each one calling out the names of bars and clubs, their music spilling into the air, a chaotic symphony of bass and beats.

You step into one of the clubs, but the moment you cross the threshold, the music hits you like a wave, overwhelming and disorienting. The crowd presses in, bodies moving in a fevered dance, leaving no room to breathe. You cringe as strangers brush against you, the invasion of your space unsettling. Yoongi’s discomfort mirrors your own, his eyes scanning the room with a protective edge.

Then, a rasping voice invades your ear, the breath hot and unwelcome. “Well, aren’t you a sweet thing,” the man sneers in English, his tone dripping with an arrogance that sends a shiver of unease down your spine. A hand suddenly grabs your ass, and you know instantly—it’s not Yoongi’s.

Anger flares in you, sharp and hot. With a swift, decisive motion, you swat the offending hand away, spinning to face the drunken stranger. His eyes are wide and unfocused, lost in a haze of alcohol. He leans in, but before he can get any closer, Yoongi steps between you, his presence a solid barrier, gently pushing the man back. The stranger grunts, his voice slurred and angry in a language you don’t understand.

Yoongi turns to you, concern etched in the lines of his face, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. You nod, signaling that you’re okay, but just as you turn to leave, a rough hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate, but you step in front of him, a surge of determination coursing through you. The stranger’s grip tightens, but you seize his jaw with your free hand, your fingers digging in with a strength born of irritation. You stare into his startled eyes, your voice low and laced with venom. “I don’t appreciate that,” you hiss, each word deliberate. “I’m happily married, and I don’t want you touching me.”

The force in your grip makes him wince, and he releases your wrist, his bravado crumbling as regret flickers across his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the fight leaving him.

You push him back, asserting your anger one final time before turning away, not wasting another second on him. Grabbing Yoongi’s hand, you pull him toward the exit, the need to escape the stifling club overwhelming. Outside, the cold night air fills your lungs, sharp and cleansing, each breath forming small clouds in the chilly atmosphere. The tension begins to melt away, and you savor the fresh, crisp night, grateful for the comforting presence of Yoongi at your side, his warmth a constant reassurance.

“That was kinda hot,” he murmurs, his voice low as he presses his body against yours, the heat of him seeping into your skin. “The way you handled yourself in there, babe.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cold.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice still carrying the edge of disgust from the stranger’s touch. “But it was disgusting. His hands on my ass.”

Yoongi hums in sympathy, his grip on your hand tightening as if to ground you both. “I don’t like other people touching you like that,” he says, his voice filled with a protective anger. “I’m sorry that happened,” he says in a much softer voice, making sure you’re okay.

You chuckle softly, the sound carrying a hint of relief. “Yeah. I know you’re possessive, Yoon.”

“If we’d stayed there a moment longer, I would’ve decked him,” he huffs, the street lamps casting a warm, golden glow on the sidewalk as you walk.

“Oh, I know. But I don’t want you getting arrested in another country—or back home, for that matter,” you laugh lightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I had it under control. But thank you for having my back.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, the gesture soft and intimate, and just then, you arrive at the bus station.

The cold air bites at your skin, making you shiver as you wait. Relief washes over you as the bus finally arrives, its doors opening to reveal a sanctuary of warmth. You step inside, the chill of the night giving way to the cozy embrace of heated air. Settling into a seat, you lean against Yoongi’s shoulder, the comfort of his presence grounding you.

“Maybe we’re too old to drink and party,” you muse, your voice a soft murmur that mingles with the hum of the bus.

Yoongi’s laugh is like a melody, soothing and familiar, a sound that feels like home. “Maybe,” he agrees, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You’re an old man now,” you quip, playfully squeezing his thigh, feeling the solid muscle beneath.

“Hey,” he retorts, mock indignation coloring his tone, “you’re not much younger than me.”

Laughter bubbles up between you, the shared humor easing the tensions of the night. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind that lingers long after the sound fades.

Back at the caravan, the atmosphere shifts, the night thick with anticipation. A surge of power and desire courses through you, igniting a fire that demands to be quenched. Seizing Yoongi’s jaw with the same assertiveness you’d shown the stranger earlier, you back him against the wall. Your gaze locks onto his, a silent command that he’s all too eager to obey.

With a teasing smile, you lick his chin, tasting the salt of his skin. “I want you, Yoon,” you whisper, your voice a sultry purr that sends shivers down his spine.

His breath hitches, the sound rough and needy. His eyes, darkened with lust, never leave yours as you tighten your grip on his jaw. “I want your tongue on my clit,” you command, the words slipping from your lips like a sinful prayer.

He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. 

“Now,” you add, your voice brooking no argument.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops to his knees with a reverence that makes your heart race, his hands sliding up your thighs to hike up your dress. The fabric pools around your waist as he tugs down your panties, his breath warm against your bare skin. You giggle in anticipation, the sound light and breathless.

He teases you first, a slow lick that sends sparks of pleasure through your body, followed by a gentle suck that makes you gasp. But then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he spins you around, your legs hitting the bed. You fall onto it with a soft thud, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. Yoongi chuckles darkly, crawling over you like a predator about to claim his prey.

He spreads your legs, the cool air brushing against your slick heat. And then he’s on you, his mouth finding your clit with a precision that makes your toes curl. His plush tongue licks and sucks, each movement sending you higher, closer to the edge. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you grind against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that looms just out of reach.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you pant, your voice a breathless plea as pleasure builds within you, sharp and relentless.

He slurps, the sound obscene and utterly delicious. When you glance down, the sight of him between your legs—his face glistening with your arousal, his eyes alight with desire—undoes you completely. You come apart with a cry, your body trembling as the orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your grip tightens in his hair, holding him to you as he licks you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow and sensual.

When you finally signal it’s enough, he pulls back, his face shining with your essence, drops of it splattered across his cheeks and lips. He looks so fucking hot, and he’s yours—your husband, your love, your everything. The thought swells in your chest, your heart beating a wild rhythm of adoration.

“You’re so hot when you squirt on my face,” he says, his voice husky with satisfaction as he sticks out his tongue to lick at the drops he can reach. The sight makes your pussy flutter with renewed arousal.

“Fuck,” you moan, the need rising in you again. “I want to suck your dick so bad,” you groan, your voice laced with a desperate, aching need.

Yoongi chuckles, a low, rich sound as he stands and begins to undress completely. You watch him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body, from the strength in his shoulders to the ridges of muscle that ripple under his skin. He’s a vision, raw and powerful, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.

With a look of pure desire, you drop to your knees before him. His hand finds your jaw, his thumb brushing across your cheek with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat in his eyes. “You look so beautiful. Always,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence.

His praise sends a thrill through you, your body responding to the way he worships you with his words and his touch. Humming in appreciation, you reach out to grasp his cock, your hand soft as it glides along his length. Precum beads at the tip, slicking your palm as you stroke him.

You stick your tongue out, gathering saliva before you engulf him in the warmth of your mouth. You suck him like a piece of candy, savoring the taste of him, focusing on the sensitive frenulum and the head of his cock.

His hands land on your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he grunts in need. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your mouth as you work him over with slow, deliberate movements.

You begin to hum, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure down his length. You love watching him unravel before you, his control slipping as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, his grip tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, your mouth a hot, wet haven that he never wants to leave.

“Babe,” he warns, his voice taut with anticipation, a delicious strain that sends shivers down your spine. He’s closer than you anticipated, but you don’t relent. You want to push him over the edge, to taste his release. He tries to pull you off, his hands trembling, but you bat them away with a determined swat, drawing him closer, deeper. Without intending to, you deepthroat him, and his resistance melts into a soft moan, his legs buckling beneath the weight of his pleasure.

You steady your breath, fighting your gag reflex as you close your eyes and do it again, taking him in as deep as you can, your throat tightening around him. Your free hand moves to his balls, feeling the tension there, the tightness that signals just how close he is. A deep, primal groan escapes you as you pull off with a wet pop, only to engulf him again, your pace quickening with purpose.

You can hear it in his voice, the way he moans your name, each syllable a testament to how close he is to unraveling. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but you don’t give him that luxury. You push him closer, until, with a broken cry of your name, he spills into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid hitting your tongue in waves.

You watch his face contort in pure ecstasy, every line and shadow a portrait of his pleasure. When he’s spent, you swallow with a satisfied hum, pressing a teasing kiss to the sensitive tip of his cock, making him shudder with the aftershocks of bliss.

Panting, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, still trying to catch his breath. “You know,” he says, his voice still thick with pleasure, “you’re never gonna get pregnant if I come in your mouth.”

You giggle, a light, airy sound that cuts through the lingering heat between you. “Maybe not,” you concede, “but I love this too, you know. And we should have fun while we try.” You glance down, watching as he slowly softens, your heart swelling with affection for him. Leaning up, you capture his lips in a hungry kiss, pulling him down onto the bed where you eventually drift off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

A few days later, a strange ache tugs at your stomach, a sensation that’s unfamiliar, different from the usual pangs of your period. You brush it aside, though, too excited about the day ahead. Today, you and Yoongi are going surfing in a place known as ‘Cold Hawaii’, a name that hints at both adventure and the chill that comes with it. Neither of you knows how to surf, but that’s part of the thrill. You’re determined to make the most of it.

You head to a surf shop called ‘West Wind’, the air bristling with the energy of the ocean and the people who live for it. The shop is alive with the scent of saltwater and waxed boards, the sound of wetsuits being zipped up, and the murmur of excited voices. You rent surfboards and wetsuits, changing in nearby stalls, and then you’re off to the sea, the brisk air nipping at your cheeks, but the excitement in your veins keeps you warm.

The beach is a hive of activity, surfers riding the waves with effortless grace, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the sea. Your instructor, a local with a laid-back demeanor, walks you through the basics: how to balance, where to place your feet. He makes it seem so simple, so intuitive, but you know it’s anything but.

When the time comes, you lie chest-down on the board, the cold water lapping at your sides as you wait for the right wave. The instructor’s voice guides you, telling you when to paddle, when to pop up. But it’s harder than it looks. Your first few attempts are clumsy, your legs wobbling as you try to stand, only to topple back into the water with a splash. You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and carefree, mingling with the roar of the waves.

Yoongi, with his natural grace, seems to get the hang of it quicker. You watch in admiration as he balances perfectly on the board, his posture steady, his movements controlled. But just as you think he’s got it, he loses his balance and tumbles into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a moment before popping back up, his black hair plastered to his face, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

You burst out laughing at the sight, the sound of your mirth carrying over the waves. Even the instructor joins in, chuckling at Yoongi’s comical fall. “That was actually good,” he says encouragingly, his tone warm and supportive. “You should both try again.”

Yoongi moves with an effortless grace, a natural on the board, and you can’t help but scuff lightly, rolling your eyes as you watch him balance perfectly, riding the waves as if he were born to them. His ease draws the instructor’s attention more towards you, his voice a steady mantra in your ear, urging you to paddle, paddle, paddle as the wave swells behind you, to pop up and find your balance before the ocean has a chance to pull you under.

You give it your all, and for one brief, glorious moment, you actually manage to stand, your feet finding purchase on the slick surface of the board. But the victory is fleeting; your balance falters so quickly it feels like whiplash, and the next thing you know, you’re crashing into the water, its cold embrace hitting your face hard. Your palms scrape the sandy bottom, and you sputter, your mouth and nose filled with the sting of salty water. The instructor isn’t fazed in the least, his calm demeanor a testament to his experience, and you tell yourself it’s okay—this is so much harder than it looks.

But you’re determined, your resolve like the tide itself, unwavering and persistent. Again and again, you try, each fall more bruising than the last, the surfboard sometimes feeling like it has a vendetta against you. Yet every time you’re knocked down, you get back up, driven by the desire to conquer at least one wave. Yoongi’s big, beaming smile tells you he’s loving every minute of this, his joy infectious even as you struggle.

“Just try again,” the instructor encourages, his tone unwavering, and you do, despite the toll it’s taking on your body. Your muscles ache, sore from the relentless attempts, and a small part of you wonders how long you’ve been at this. Time feels fluid out here, with the waves as your only measure.

Thankfully, the leash tethering you to the board spares you the task of chasing it down after each tumble, a small mercy in the midst of the challenge. You huff out a breath, catching Yoongi’s comforting gaze, his look of support giving you the strength to try once more.

Lying chest down on the board, you let the water cradle you, feeling the swell of a wave approaching. You paddle with renewed determination, and as the wave lifts you, you pop up, finding your balance. This time, you manage to stand, your feet steady beneath you, and the sensation is nothing short of euphoric. A giddy laugh bubbles up from your chest as you ride the wave, a wide smile splitting your face. “Look! I’m doing it!”

And then, inevitably, you hit the water face-first. But when you surface, it’s with a laugh of pure, unbridled joy. You’ve done it. After countless attempts, after losing track of how many times you’ve tried, you finally rode the wave, if only for a moment. And when you see the pride shining in Yoongi’s eyes, your heart swells with a happiness that makes every fall worth it.

Later, after drying off, you treat yourselves to ice cream, savoring the sweet, cold treat as you sit on the beach, wrapped in your warm jackets. The air is crisp, but the warmth between you is enough to keep the chill at bay. You walk hand in hand back to the caravan, the soft crunch of sand beneath your boots, noticing how many other caravans dot the campground. It’s a bustling scene, alive with the laughter of children running and playing, their joy infectious.

As you watch them, your heart warms, and you can’t help but wonder what it will be like when you have kids of your own. The thought lingers, sweet and tender, like the promise of more beautiful moments to come.

“My feet are so sore, Yoon,” you lament, the weight of the day heavy in each step as you both drag your tired bodies back to the warmth of the caravan.

“Mine too,” he admits with a playful lilt in his voice. “How about we give each other a massage?” The suggestion, though innocent in words, carries a hint of something more, and you feel the familiar embers of desire flicker to life within you.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, your words a soft cloud in the crisp night air. The thought of your hands on him, of his hands on you, sends a thrill through your weary body. You can’t wait to get inside, to feel his touch, to see where this simple act of care will lead.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes with a sigh of relief, the warmth of the caravan wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You share a quick bite, the soft glow of Yoongi’s phone casting shadows across your faces as something plays in the background, though neither of you pays much attention. It’s just a quiet moment, a pause before the real focus begins.

Settling onto the bed, you both sit up, peeling off your socks with a mix of anticipation and fatigue. The first touch of his hands on your feet makes you release a needy sound, the soreness easing under his skilled fingers. Yoongi lets out a similar groan as you knead the tension from his feet, and the shared intimacy sends a wave of warmth straight to your core.

“This has been a wonderful honeymoon, Yoon,” you murmur, your breath a little unsteady as your fingers dig into the arch of his foot.

He hums in response, pleased and content, his eyes closing briefly before he looks at you, love shining in his gaze. “I’m so happy to hear that. You thought we were going someplace exotic, didn’t you?” He chuckles, pulling his foot back for a moment, ticklish under your touch, but then quickly offers it again, craving the comfort of your hands.

“Yeah, I really did,” you admit, smiling at him. “But this has been so lovely. Thank you.” There’s a softness in your voice, a gratitude that comes from the heart.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out easily, a simple truth between you.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth as he grabs your other foot. The touch of his calloused fingers on your tender skin draws a moan from your lips, your body responding instinctively to his care.

The atmosphere shifts, the once innocent massage now tinged with an undercurrent of desire. Your bodies are tired, but the need simmering between you is undeniable. His eyes darken with hunger as he watches you, and the heat in your core intensifies. Letting go of his foot, you crawl toward him, your lips seeking his in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues meet in a dance of passion, and your hands move with urgency, tugging at his clothes, helping him shed his shirt, his warmth pressing against you.

You make quick work of his pants, and he follows suit with yours, leaving you both in nothing but your underwear. The kiss deepens, your lips trailing down his body, tasting the salt of his skin. His hands move over you, and you tremble as he pulls your panties off, the cool air brushing against your wetness, sending shivers down your spine. 

Yoongi discards his boxers, his arousal evident, and your body quivers with the need to feel him inside you. He pulls you close, removing your bra with practiced ease, your breasts spilling free. His gaze lingers, filled with lust and love, before he leans down, his lips closing around a nipple. The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your back arch off the bed.

“Yoongi,” you pant, your voice thick with desire as he tends to your other breast, his hand teasing and pulling at your nipple, sending sparks of heat to your pussy.

Your chest heaves with each breath, your body alive under his touch, every nerve ending ignited. His mouth moves from one nipple to the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you tug at his hair, urging him closer, deeper.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you cry out, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he alternates between your breasts, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to push you over the edge. You could come just from this, and it wouldn’t be the first time. There’s no embarrassment, just raw desire.

“I’m—,” you moan as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, arching your back into his face as you come undone. Your back arches, your body trembling as you come undone beneath him, his name a breathless whisper on your lips as the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of bliss.

A sudden knock on the door steals the breath from your lungs, and you freeze, eyes wide with shock. The intimacy of the moment shatters like fragile glass, and Yoongi, just as startled, pulls away. Instinctively, you reach for him, not wanting the spell to break, your heart pounding like a wild drum in your chest.

But Yoongi, ever the calm in your storm, quickly grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. The distance between you feels like a chasm as he opens the door, while you remain on the bed, flushed and breathless, your chest heaving, still glistening with the remnants of his kiss.

“Hi,” comes the low murmur of a man’s voice, intruding into your world as Yoongi runs a hand through his tousled hair, trying to steady his breath.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man continues, his tone polite yet firm, “but could you keep it down? My kids are trying to sleep, and it’s getting a bit loud.”

Each word lands like a stone, sinking into the pit of your stomach as mortification blooms within you. The realization that your passion had spilled beyond the walls of your private sanctuary makes you wish the earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit. We’re so sorry,” Yoongi replies, his voice steady and apologetic as he bows slightly, the English words rolling off his tongue with ease. “We’ll be quieter. Sorry again.” With that, he closes the door, and the world narrows back down to just the two of you. For a moment, you just stare at each other, and the air feels thick with unspoken tension and embarrassment. Your breathing is still quick and you feel like you want to disappear, but Yoongi’s eyes ground you, and his soft smile lets you know it’s okay. The silence is stretching on, until Yoongi bursts out laughing, showing his perfect gums, which in turn makes you laugh too. Suddenly, you don’t feel so embarrassed, the laughter making way for the absurdity of the situation to dissipate a bit, and you just giggle, the atmosphere contagious.

He crosses the short distance to the bed, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’d suggest stuffing your mouth with my cock to keep you quiet,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You barely catch your breath as he adds, “But if you want to get pregnant this cycle, it needs to be in your vagina.”

His words set your heart racing anew, desire pooling hot and urgent within you. You stare at him, feeling the wetness between your thighs grow, your body responding to his every word.

“You’re ovulating, right?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a serious edge to his gaze.

You blink, the realization dawning like a slow sunrise. The ache in your stomach—it all makes sense. “I think I am, yeah,” you murmur, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

A devilish smile spreads across his face. “Well,” he clicks his tongue, his eyes darkening with intent, “then I’m going to fuck you, but you’ll have to be silent. There are people sleeping.”

You nod, breath hitching as the room seems to shrink around the two of you. 

With a practiced ease, Yoongi discards the towel and returns to the bed, his presence overwhelming as he hovers over you, still hard and ready. He takes himself in hand, giving a few slow pumps before his fingers find your wetness. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. “Bet I’ll slide right in.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan, knowing he’s right.

He aligns himself with your entrance, and with a smooth, unhurried thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. The pleasure is instant and intense, but you remember the man’s words, biting into Yoongi’s discarded shirt to stifle your cries.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Yoongi rasps, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet as he begins to move, his pace steady and deep. The sound of your bodies meeting, slick and needy, fills the small caravan, mingling with the quiet grunts and whispered breaths.

With strong hands, he grips your thighs, spreading them wide and lifting them onto his shoulders. His thrusts quicken, each one bringing you closer to the edge, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fights to keep his own volume down.

“This pussy,” he whispers, his voice reverent as he pulls one leg down to reach between your bodies. His fingers find your clit, already swollen and sensitive, and he circles it with expert precision. “It’s mine, and it’s so gorgeous.”

Your vision blurs, your body trembling as a new wave of pleasure builds deep inside. You mumble incoherently into the shirt, but it doesn’t matter—Yoongi knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your walls clench around him.

He keeps his rhythm steady, his fingers teasing your clit while his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. The tension coils tighter and tighter until, with a final, whispered plea of his name, you unravel completely, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body spasms, and you push the shirt out of your mouth, gasping for air as you whisper his name, the sound broken and desperate.

“Fuck, babe,” Yoongi groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. The way your body grips him, the way you moan his name—it’s too much. With a low growl, he thrusts deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills into you, warmth flooding your walls as he pants your name.

The world narrows to the feeling of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours as he collapses on top of you, both of you breathless and sated. You don’t mind the weight of him, your arms wrapping around his back as you press a tender kiss to his temple.

“I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he whispers against your skin, his voice soft and filled with love.

“I can’t wait either,” you reply, your voice equally tender as you kiss him again, pouring all the love and gratitude you feel into that simple, sweet gesture.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts@constancelayon@wobblewobble822@ktownshizzle@moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

*I don't know why the fuck the taglist doesn't want to work anymore T_T I hope you all find it anyway!

Author’s note(2): I really hope you liked it! I have two more extras planned for this series and they’re coming soon! Please let me know in a comment, reblog or ask what you liked 💜 And please, remember it’s just fiction.

[ifindus]

norway what was the bloodiest and most brutal battle you've ever been part of?

The battle of Lund in 1676.

The bloodiest battle Norway has been a part of is the Battle of Lund in 1676, fought between Denmark-Norway and the Netherlands against Sweden, where Sweden won. The Danish King had 12 300 soldiers to command and the Swedish King had only had 8 000. Both sides ended up loosing about 50% of their army. It is said to be the bloodiest battle ever fought in Scandinavia, and it was a coincidence that the Swedes won just due to the chaotic nature of the battle.

The battle was a result of Danish forces invading the southern part of today’s Sweden, an area that had previously belonged to Denmark. The Swedes were led by a reckless and young king who had already put them through harsh conditions and bad camp locations that had cause a great percentage of the soldiers to die from illness already before the battle had begun. The Danes had followed the Swedish army and were in much better position, both location-wise and with a steady supply line.

The Danes became impatient and gave up good placement to attack the Swedes as they neared the city of Lund just outside Malmö. As mentioned, the battle was disorienting and chaotic, with a lot of breaks in formation, a missing Swedish King who came back after several hours to break through Danish lines who had his forces surrounded. Not to mention over-eager Swedes absolutely slaughtering sailors who wanted to surrender, with the words “Sailors have paid to fight at sea, but not at land. You therefore deserve no mercy!”. The massacre was stopped by a Swedish officer.

[natigail]

DnP playing a drinking board game with liquorice and soups should not be that hilarious. Just!! I had to pause the video approximately twice a minute just to take in the next hilarious thing that they said. SO many innuendos. Phil doing it on purpose for sure, glint in his eye as he was watching with glee as Dan struggled to consume liquorice, not even stopping when Dan tried to wave him off. Dan the cougar with the animal print and Phil with the blond hair, blue eyes combo. Getting use out of their left-over New Years cups. Repeat of Phil really struggling with soups (they are evil when lumpy and cold, Phil, I feel for you). Dan's hatred for liquorice (though that drink must have been toxic levels, so fair for that but not the salted liquorice because that's also a loved sweet here in Denmark as well as Sweden). Phil handing Dan the black piece instantly and choosing blue for himself. The mug with the whiskers (deep nostalgia). All of the little mini games where they're fighting so intensely, stumbling over their words and almost spilling drinks. The banana video censored and Dan hiding behind the board game packaging. Dan joking if Phil slept with the bearded ginger and Phil's lil shut up huffed out through laughter. Dan comparing himself to a hippo needing a bird to pick out stuff between his teeth, TILTING his head jokingly towards Phil as if he should be the bird and just go to town (no words for this, they are insane!). The secret draft thing (birthday related?)! The Phil can't have chocolate, so don't make that type of cake pls, mum. The sheer drama of their dice rolling and Phil threatening to leave or stick some authority on Dan about seven times. Phil being so brave and actually drinking that horrible concoction (though Dan protecting the sealz <3). The little iPhone videos put in, clearly of them just fumbling around. The sheer laughter and smiling and joy that was all throughout the video, even as they were suffering with their drinks/foods. They are just so gay and I don't even dare tally up all of the innuendos. I feel like I need an immediate rewatch. They are just so entertaining and funny and feeling themselves and it's contagious and I love them and they've come so far and this is the longest sentence ever but that's okay because none of this is meant to be pretty or nice, it's meant to just express my love for these two insane dorks that have made videos for us for like 15 years at this point. Anyway, I'm clearly completely chill. Great video, guys.

[heavenlybackside]

The bridge that comes from Sweden turns into a tunnel under the sea and reappears in Denmark; both countries united by this wonderful work of Engineering.

It has a total length of 16 kilometers and connects Denmark with Sweden through the Øresund Strait. The Oresund Bridge was built in 2000 and allows the passage of cars (highway) and trains between Denmark and Sweden. Before its construction, all traffic between the two countries was carried out by ferry.

[hetalian-veteran]

The Draw of the Hetalia Fandom (and Why You Can Never Leave)

From the perspective of a fan of (technically) twelve years or so.

Something occurred to me a while back, and I wanted to share it to get other people's thoughts. I'll try to add funny pictures and gifs to break up the wall of text so it won't be as exhausting to read.

I made a post the other day about how the Hetalia fandom always draws you back in. This was, of course, based on the joke about how you can never really leave the Hetalia fandom. A joke you can find virtually everywhere you look in fan spaces online.

But this begs the question. Why? Why can't you ever truly leave the Hetalia fandom? What is it about this fandom that consistently draws you back in?

And note that people don't talk about Hetalia itself, but rather its fandom. You could stop watching the show or reading the comics for years, but the fandom is what won't fully leave you be.

(The Hetalia fandom every time you check to see if it's dead yet).

One answer I've heard has to do with the phenomenon known as Associative Memory, where you can learn and remember the relationship between unrelated items.

For example, you watch Hetalia, a series about the countries of the world personified as anime characters. These characters have their own personalities, traits, quirks, etc. And the more you watch the show and get into the fandom, the more you start to associate these things with one another.

For instance, someone can say the word Italy, and I'll start thinking about Feliciano Vargas. Or someone could say the name Matthew Williams, and I automatically associate that with Canada. Or I could see bushy eyebrows and immediately start thinking of APH England. Heck, someone starts talking about Vikings and my thoughts almost always go to the Viking Trio of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. I could go on, but you get the idea.

And there's also the fact that we live in a world full of the countries that the show has personified characters of, which would in turn likely remind you of Hetalia.

But there's something more here going on. I've thought about it for a long while, and I think I've realized one of the biggest reasons why you can't fully leave the fandom.

It's because of how versatile the characters of the series can be in fan content. Allow me to explain.

(Me preparing to explain to everyone the epiphany that came to me one dark, stormy night).

Hetalia is a series with literally no plot. Like, zero. Some episodes may impact each other, but the overall series is episodic in nature. The only episodes you'd have to watch in order would be the ones going over the miniature love story between Chibitalia and HRE. And then there's the sequence of episodes going over the Industrial Revolution in season seven, and then the sequence of episodes explaining the relationship between Czechia and Slovakia. But that's it. And the Industrial Revolution and Czechia and Slovakia episodes aired in the latter seasons, long after the fandom was already very big and well established.

The episodes are largely adaptations from the original webcomic and thus are all a bunch of skits haphazardly thrown together. So I'll reiterate what I said earlier; there is no real, canonical plot to Hetalia. There are canon events and facts about canon characters, but seeing as the show is largely skits, they aren't tied down to any real narrative.

(The Hetalia fandom whenever they're given a piece of canon they don't like).

This leaves a lot of room for headcanons. Which leads to fans sharing their headcanons online. And when headcanons get super popular, they become fanon. And when a piece of fanon gets super popular, where it finds itself getting mingled with fanart, fanfiction, and even fan theories, you'll have people who start to confuse it with actual canon. There's really a lot to be said for the wild fanon of Hetalia, but I'll get to that another day. I need to turn the focus back onto the characters themselves.

I'm just gonna put it out there. The Hetalia characters are largely one-note. This isn't to say there isn't some depth to a few of the characters, but these characters are largely the epitome of "what you see is what you get." Especially in the early days of the series. The characters all have a set of straightforward, basic character traits, with their interpersonal relationships often being displayed in a very simplistic manner.

For example, Italy is a pasta-loving coward who's a massive flirt. Germany is strict and authoritative with a no-nonsense attitude. Japan is quiet and soft-spoken, only speaking up when he feels the need. America is a bombastic dork with a hero complex. England is an arrogant stick in the mud. France is a hopeless romantic who flirts with anything that has a pulse.

(Me taking a moment to pause and push away the cringy middle school memories of me shamelessly fangirling in class).

And as I said, their relationships are typically portrayed as simplistic as well. Italy annoys Germany, but Germany doesn't want to get rid of him because he's one of his only friends. England and France hate each other. America is that hyper-extroverted friend trying to get his introverted friend, Japan, out of his shell. Switzerland and Lichtenstein have a sweet sibling dynamic. And Prussia and Austria are portrayed as old friends who like to antagonize one another.

Because of the way the characters and their interpersonal relationships are written, this also lends them open to a lot of headcanons and eventual fanon. Not to mention that most of the characters have canon, human names. So if you want to use these characters in a fanfiction, particularly one where you don't want to depict them as countries (which is most fanfics), you have names at the ready that you can use.

And because of the simple way the characters are written, you can potentially write or portray these characters however you want in fanwork without too many people complaining that someone "isn't in character." There is so much room for your own interpretations of the characters. As long as you keep some of their basic personality traits from the series intact, you can portray the characters however you want. Especially because there's no real canonical storyline to drag them down. Because of the lack of canon storyline, you don't have to worry about fanworks being canon-compliant, canon-divergent, or canon-adjacent.

(Fanfic writers when they realize canon cannot stop them from creating whatever they want).

Do you want to portray Romano as the notorious mafia boss, Lovino Vargas, in the 1930s? Go ahead. As long as you can keep some of his cowardly and stubborn nature intact, you can do what you want with little trouble.

Do you want to portray England as the infamous pirate, Arthur Kirkland, in the 17th century? As long as you maintain his disdain for France, have at it!

Do you want to write a college AU with all of the characters present? As long as you keep in mind their personalities and have a basic understanding of their interpersonal relationships, have fun!

Now you're probably sitting there thinking, "Big deal, people can create all kinds of fanwork, regardless of what its content is, or what property it's for. What makes the Hetalia fandom so special?"

It's special because, since Hetalia is a series with almost zero canonical storylines, and the characters are portrayed in such a simplistic way, both of which lend their way to boatloads of headcanons and fanon, as well as small scraps of canon information that we can choose to either ignore or elaborate like crazy on...

Hetalia is a freaking goldmine for creating all kinds of fan content.

(Hetalians when creating the 2p! variations of the characters, probably).

So much fan content is out there. From creepypastas, to Hetaoni, Dreamtalia, the 2p! characters, historically accurate AU's, school AU's, and so, so much more. All because the canon is just loose enough to allow all kinds of fan content to be created and not seem too far off from the series or characters.

And that fan content ends up being way, way more fun than the actual series itself! Don't get me wrong, I still love the show, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't (or currently don't) have a freaking blast every time I engage with fan content. The creativity is insane, and the fanon is even more fun and entertaining.

The reason you cannot fully leave the Hetalia fandom isn't just because of Associative Memory, but because of the immense amount of fan content and fanon where, because of the nature of the series, you can do, write, draw, and create whatever you want. You can project onto these characters and their stories and interpret them to your own personal tastes. And you know what? That's a heck of a lot of fun.

And there you go, that's my two cents.

[skaldish]

What is Norse Heathenry?

Norse Heathenry is a contemporary pagan spirituality derived from the beliefs, customs, superstitions, and folklore of the pre-Christian Norse people. It is one of a few different kinds of Heathenries, which include Slavic Heathenry and Teutonic (Germanic) Heathenry.

The word "heathen" means "of the heaths." However, it's not a word the Old norse people themselves used. They didn't have a word for their spiritual belief system, as they didn't distinguish this from all other aspects of their lives. Rather, "Heathen" was coined by Christian writers to refer to Scandinavian pagans (this is also why it's sometimes used interchangeably with the word "heretic").

Nowadays, Norse Heathenry is referred to by many names, which reflects different developing iterations of it. Amongst these names are Norse Paganism, Asatru, and Forn Sidr / Forn Sed.

Where does Norse Heathenry come from?

Norse Heathenry comes from the Nordic countries of Europe: Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Iceland, and the Faroe Islands. These places are also known as the homelands of the vikings. But despite their shared origins, Norse Heathenry is not the religion of the vikings. This very large misconception has a very long, complex history behind it, owed to a combination of commercialization and fascist tampering. The Heathenry we see in America is extremely muddied from these influences. Fortunately, we now have the means to disambiguate it, thanks to increasingly accessible cultural exchange.

The following explanation is a product of ongoing anthropological, theological, and cultural research, in combination with what we know about the historical.

Norse Heathen Beliefs

Unlike organized religions, Norse Heathenry is (and has always been) a decentralized belief system. This means it has no universal doctrines, no orthopraxy or orthodoxy, no holy texts, and no religious figurehead governing it. When you hear people say "There's no 'right' way to practice Heathenry," this is generally what they're referring to.

However, Norse Heathenry does have a distinct way of thinking about and viewing the world, and it's very different from what we usually see here in the US. If you're feeling stuck trying to figure out how to "do Heathenry," this would be why.

Animism

A staple of Norse Heathen epistemology is Animism.

Usually, Animism is defined as the belief that all things have a spirit or vital essence to them. But this is only one definition of many, and not the definition that applies here.

The Norse concept of Animism is "the awareness that all things are part of an interdependent ecosystem." This changes how we engage with everything around us. We understand that when we interact with the forces of this world, they will interact back on their own merit. Our relationship with all things is a social one, and we're not spectators in our environment, but active participants at all times.

This stands is stark contrast to the way the USAmericans typically view the world: As a landscape to either test or be tested by, with the forces of the world acting as the means through which this is done.

Additionally, there's no separation between the sacred and the profane.

Immanence

Faiths that focus on spiritual ascension, enlightenment, or attaining a good afterlife are known as transcendent faiths.

While Norse Heathenry has some transcendent elements, it's ultimately an immanent belief system, which means its focus is on living life for the sake of living, as opposed to living life to receive a good afterlife. A good afterlife is already guaranteed.

(Some Heathens may strive for a specific kind of afterlife, however, which do have certain conditions for accessing. But these are elective rather than required, and different as opposed to superior. It's all a matter of preference, at the end of the day.)

The Norse Gods

Many people are already familiar with the Norse gods, such as Thor, Odin, Loki, and Freyja, but not many people are familiar with how they operate as gods.

In Hellenism and Religio Romano, the gods are divine lords who preside over different domains of society. It's a reflection of what the ancient Greeks and Romans highly valued in their civilizations: Law and political/civic involvement.

In Norse Heathenry, however, gods don't operate in a lordship capacity. Instead, they're more like celebrities in that they're celebrated figures everyone knows about.

While they don't rule over one thing or another, the Norse gods often act as allegorical representations of worldly phenomena. Thor is to thunderstorms as Loki is to "random-chance odds." SIf is to wheat-fields as Odin is to the old wandering beggar. Frey and Freyja represent masculine and feminine principles, Skadi the driven snow and foggy winter, and so on. The gods exist as worldly experiences inasmuch as they exist as ideas.

Lastly, but importantly, the Norse gods don't distribute rewards or punishments in accordance with on one's actions or deeds, nor do they tell us how we ought to live our lives. The way they interact with us depends on our individual relationships with them, which can be just as diverse as the ones we have with each other.

Myths & Folklore

What people often refer to as the "Norse Myths" are stories found in two old Icelandic texts called the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda. These texts are special because they're the oldest and largest collection of tales featuring the Norse deities.

However, these texts represent just one region's period-specific interpretation of Norse folklore. They also only represent a fraction of the tales that still circulate within Nordic oral traditions, so not only are they not "canon" in the usual sense of the word, they're also just a sample.

This is all to say that Norse Heathenry doesn't have a hard body of mythology. It certainly has a defined one, but its definition is built from local legends, fairy tale humor, songs, customs, superstitions, and family folklore in addition to what survives on runestones and parchment. The corpus of Heathenry is very much a living, breathing thing.

Spirits

Norse Heathenry recognizes a wide variety of different beings, the likes of which can be found all around us. Some of these beings are like how we typically imagine spirits, in that they're incorporeal or otherwordly, while others are physical but may play tricks on you so you can't see them.

Like many things pertaining to Heathenry, there isn't a universally-shared classification system for Norse beings. But generally-speaking, beings are defined by their natures and the manner in which they relate to the rest of the world, rather than their morphology. For example, Trolls can take the appearance of rocks, trees, and also living people, but they can also be incorporeal spirits. This is all, however, the same kind of Troll, rather than being different types of trolls.

This is also why the lines between "spirit", "god," and "ancestor" can become very blurry at times. In English use, these are all typically labeled under the category "vaetter." Sometimes "wight" is used to refer to spirits of various types, but isn't often used to refer to gods.

Typically, the way people interact with spirits entirely depends on what kind of spirit they're dealing with, as well as their disposition towards human beings. Some spirits may enjoy a personal relationship, while others are best when left unbothered.

Values & Morality

Because Norse Heathenry has no doctrine and is immanent in nature, it has no fixed value system. Just like the stories were decentralized, so were the Norse people's values.

This is a feature as opposed to a flaw, and a fact as opposed to a theory. But it also has a habit of making Americans very uncomfortable.

For this reason, Heathens sometimes choose to construct their own value system to observe as part of their practice. But what those values are is up to each individual, and individual community, if applicable.

Anyone claiming Norse Heathenry has a universal value system is either new to Heathenry, or selling something.

Veneration

Heathen veneration is not just limited to gods, but also includes ancestors and even certain kinds of spirits, such as nisse/tomte.

Like most things in Norse Heathenry, what, who, and how a Heathen chooses to venerate is their choice to make. One popular observance across the globe is to craft altars, shrines, or similar sacred spaces for the entities one venerates. If a Heathen lives in a house that has a nisse (similar to a gnome), they might leave porridge (with butter) by the hearth for him, and he'll in turn bless the house with good luck and fortune.

Oftentimes, relationships with entities are very interpersonal. Heathenry's animistic and immanent nature means entities are rarely cold and distant, including the gods.

Misconceptions!

A list of misconceptions off the top of my head:

The practice known as 'Odinism' is an invention of the Germanic Volkish movement, which was the social precursor to Nazi Germany. This is also, unfortunately, the first kind of "heathenry" to be brought to the US, back in the 1970's. It was spread through the country via one of the fastest-moving networks at the time: The US prison system.

The Black Sun is a Nazi symbol, not a Heathen one.

No, Norse Heathenry is not a closed practice.

No, you don't have to have Scandinavian heritage to practice Norse Heathenry. Blood quantum is not a thing.

The rune alphabets are old, but the method of runecasting is new.

So is the use of magical bindrunes.

Bindrunes are also different from Galdrastafir. The latter is actually a form of Jewish-Christian-Norse syncretism and needs to be taught orally since it's a mystery tradition. You can still slap the Helm of Awe on things and look cool about it though.

Norse Heathenry is not the same as being a viking, and Norse Heathens are not vikings. However, some Heathens partake in viking reenactment as an extension of their practice.

There's no good or bad gods in Norse Heathenry. All the gods are capable of great good and great bad, just like people. They're fallible, and that's what makes them relatable.

Odin and Loki aren't at odds with one another.

You don't need to wait for a god to pick you to start venerating them.

If you're interested in learning more about any of these in-depth, check out the website I've built on Norse Heathenry, located in my pinned post!

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Your recent post mentioning the merits of country-wide bilingualism reminded me of something: One of my friends in secondary school (in mid 00s NL) was involved in something like a model European Parliament or European debate programme, where once a year representative students from EU countries would meet up somewhere and debate stuff.

Everyone at this event could speak English + their own language, and perhaps some German or French. That is, except for the UK delegation*. So what invariably happened is that on Day 1 everyone would talk shit (during free time) in their own language about the other countries, except the UK delegation could not, because everyone understood them.** On Day 2, countries with similar languages, (e.g. Benelux/Germany/Denmark/Sweden, Portugal/Spain/Italy/France) would band together and talk shit with each other, still in their own languages but they'd be mutually intelligible. And finally on Day 3 these groups built bridges between each other using their limited knowledge of French/German/Latin/Ancient Greek to make one supergroup just to talk shit about the UKers because they were the only ones who didn't understand any other language (and Day 2 attempts at inclusion were met with demands that English would be easier for everyone).

My friend qualified for this thing 3 years in a row and it happened every time without fail. It made us all wonder if this is what happens in the actual EU parliament as well.

*afaik there were only English people in the UK delegations.

** The Irish delegation was able to talk shit about the English by speaking Irish or English with extra thick accents that were impenetrable to others, allowing them into the European alliance. One year someone from Ireland was caught passing info to the UK and Ireland was booted, a huge scandal that no one expected and the word "ierlandverrader" (portmanteau of ireland and land traitor) became a meme among my friends for a while.

This is HILARIOUS