#fin passes this one to sweden

[darcymariaphoster]

Sealand and Ladonia.

[carionto]

The duality of Man, or triality? quadrality?

Alien to Human about New Human: Correct me if I'm wrong, but they appear abnormally large for your species?

H: Yea, he's a biggun alright, even without the EV suit I'd say... 7'3'', 310 pounds, bet he power lifts.

A: Umm... not to be rude, but, uhh... he seems, well... how should I put this...

H: Intimidating? Terrifying? Evil? Yea, if this station didn't have high screening standards I'd be totally pissing myself if he started walking towards me. The mohawk and eye tat totally make me believe he could snap me in two with a single glare.

A: I feel ashamed that my instincts are telling me to flee. I wish nature were easier to change.

H (shouting at NH): Hey buddy! Could you come over here for a minute please? You look awesome by the way!

A (whispering nervously): what are you doing?!?

H: Gotta overcome those fears somehow, I believe the best way is a direct confrontation.

NH approaches, somewhat slowly, looking around at all the other aliens in the station that are chatting, waiting around, or doing some work. He finally approaches A and H, and in a very deep and husky voice says: Um, hi, hello. T-thanks for the compliment, I, uh, was a little worried I would stand out too much here.

H: Oh you totally do, my friend over here is practically about to pass out from how much like a gothic viking of death metal you look.

NH: Oh no, I'm so sorry, I-I just grew up in Sweden-Delta and both my parents were huge into classic local music, so I just, uh... it's complicated. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone.

H: Hey, relax pal, we're all good people here. Anyway, what you here to do? I'm planning on starting a bakery, still testing out what kind of flour most species here can actually stomach. My friend here is on the team working on Moon theft preventative measures.

NH: Oh, that's cool. I'm here as an exchange student with the department of applied astrophysics. If all goes well, I can finish my Bachelors degree remotely and stay here as an intern with the head researcher.

H: Oooh, that's cool. (so cool yea that you're apparently half my age but oh well guess I'm a big fat time waster like my father before me and oh god change the subject before I get depressed in front of strangers) That's a real big bag you got there, carrying some super secret science things, eh?

NH: Oh, that... uhh... guess it can't hurt to tell, security vetted it already anyway.

NH proceeds to unzip the bag and hold up a large white piece of clothing with light blue rings and accents, alongside a strange white cap with what looked like small fins, and a curious little backpack.

NH: It's uhh... um... my... Ika... musume... cosplay.... (oh gods I can't believe I said it out loud again)

After a moment of awkward silence, NH slowly puts on the backpack and presses a button on it's strap, and suddenly numerous light blue colored tentacle-like appendages sprout out from the backpack and move in line with NH's movements.

NH: I, uh..., got my engineering friend to make them articulate and interface with my contacts. I can make them do all sorts of things, like make various shapes and animals with them, though works best as a shadow theater.

H:...

NH:...

A now frozen out of confusion than fear:...

H: That's so

NH: (oh I know it's so lame, but I love that show)-

H: COOL! I don't know what a ika musume is, but those things look amazing. You said articulate? How precise can they be? I'd love to have something like that instead of my useless assistant. Poor lad can't make a piece of toast if his life depended on it...

NH: Y-you like it?

H: I LOVE those things. My daughter does cosplay too sometimes, but she makes her Dreadnought suits herself from scraps. One time the military came to our house and installed a limiter on the gauss cannon she found in a crash site, said it would otherwise start to generate small doses of radiation if used too frequently. But she replaced it with a handmade rail gun before the next convention. Do you go to those? Did you see a 7 meter tall hulking metal monstrosity with a bunch of candles all over? That was her.

NH: Oh, I think I've seen video of that, but no, not in person, I go to smaller events. I don't really like big crowds.

H: Oh yea, I get ya, you do seem a bit on the shy side now that we've been talking for a bit. Hey, no worries, like I said, we're all good people here.

NH: T-thanks, but I think I should be going now, the teacher is calling me over.

H: Oh yea, go ahead, didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Have a fun stay and I'm sure you'll ace that paper or theory? Or whatever astrophysicists do, you seem like a solid kid.

NH: Oh, uh, thanks. Good luck with your bakery. And you with stopping those weird people from stealing more moons. Bye.

H: Bye bye, come visit, don't be a stranger now, I'm set up just a short bit from the main lift on floor 14.

NH: R-right, I'll, uh, be sure to stop by soon.

A is finally able to process what they just heard and says: What was all that just now?

H: What? Just a friendly chat with what is apparently basically a kid. Man, this kid's got so much going on, while I'm almost 50 and I have an oven. Life, man, it can go in so many ways. Anyway, let's go grab a drink, I'm parched.

[oensible]

[GIF description: 5 GIFs of Mikael Granlund #64's game-winning overtime goal for Team Finland versus Team Sweden in the third game of the NHL's 2025 4 Nations Face-Off tournament.

GIF 1: Adrian Kempe (SWE#10) tries to get a shot on the net, slipping past Granlund who tries to push him out of the way. Kempe gets the puck to the net and tries to whack them through the pads of goaltender Kevin Lankinen (FIN#32). The puck gets through, but Lankinen reaches back to push it out of the way with his skate and to the stick of Niko Mikkola (FIN #77) in time. Mikkola passes to Granlund, who has skated around the back of the net, past Kempe and up the open ice to Mikkola's right.

GIF 2: Granlund skates into the Swedish d-zone on the right flank of a 3v1 rush against Erik Karlsson (SWE#65). He looks to the left at his teammates, stickhandles a little as Karlsson slowly draws closer to him and prepares to block a pass, then quickly turns back to the net and shoots the puck between the legs of goaltender Linus Ullmark (SWE#35).

GIF 3: Team Finland celebrates as the puck goes in, Granlund coasting around the back of the net and dropping to one knee to pump his fist as he shouts triumphantly. Mikkola gives him a slap on the back as he passes by and Aleksander Barkov (FIN#16) goes to hug Mikkola.

GIF 4: Team Finland group hug as the bench begins to get back on the ice. Mikko Rantanen (#96) reaches him first, shouting "Yeah!" with a big smile and grabbing him in a big hug, soon followed by Urho Vaakanainen (#18) and several others.

GIF 5: Granlund and Lankinen smiling at each other as they make their way off the ice.

End of GIF description.]

└ mikael granlund goes end to end off a save from lankinen to score the gamewinner in ot | fin vs. swe | 2.15.25

[fireandiceland]

Okay so…

Many couples have what people called “a thing.” It is something special for them, a personal action that connected them intimately, that speaks to each other in a secret language that only they could understand.

What would be SuFin and DenNor’s respective “thing”?

Ohh this is so specific!! But I actually have thought about this! I think both of these couples have a "thing" for public spaces and one for when they're alone.

SuFin's thing is leaning against each other. They will sit next to each other and sooner rather than later Finland will lean against Sweden's shoulder or chest when Sweden puts on arm around him. When they are at home reading or watching tv Sweden leans back against Finland while Fin plays with his hair or massages his head... But also when no one else is around they boop each other's noses a lot. Sweden walks by Finland cooking or vice versa and just do a little "boop" and then they share a little smile or giggle 🧡

DenNor is a little more subtile. Their thing they do in public is Denmark looking at Norway expectantly after saying something stupid funny and Norway answering by rolling his eyes, a little too dramatic to be serious and with an amused smile on his lips. If Nor is feeling particularely playful he might also do that little bump of his fist against Denmark's arm. At home they always kiss the top of each other's head. When Norway passes by the living room at 3am to get himself a cup of tea and sees Denmark sitting on the floor surrounded by lego pieces or when Denmark places a snack for Norway on his desk while he's busy with magic stuff they both always make sure to place a gentle kiss on top of the other's head 💜

[beardedmrbean]

Helsingin Sanomat (siirryt toiseen palveluun) covered the resolution of a long-running dispute over nurses' salaries, announced by the national mediator Anu Sajavaara on Monday evening.

The industrial action will end immediately, and the nurses will stop preparing for mass resignations.

"The structure here is such that it has been agreed how and on what timetable the coordination of salaries in the new welfare areas and the development of the pay system will be carried out," Sajavaara explained.

In addition, a separate one-off bonus of 600 euros will be paid next March to nurses who have treated Covid-19 patients.

At the heart of the long pay dispute was the demand by the nurses' unions for an extra 3.6 percent pay rise each year on top of a so-called across-the-board pay hike. The employers' side said the demand was too costly and unrealistic for taxpayers.

According to nurses' unions Tehy and Super, the settlement proposal will raise the average salary by at least 17.3 percent on average over five years, with an increase of 15.3 percent in the first three years.

According to a press release from the employers' organisation KT, the now-approved settlement proposal and the municipal agreement reached earlier in the summer are estimated to increase the earnings of staff covered by the social services, or Sote, agreement by at least 13 percent on average between 2022 and 2025.

Last Nato holdouts

Two countries rhave still yet to approve Finland's bid for Nato membership—Turkey and Hungary.

Turkey's gripes with the Nordic countries were spelled out earlier this year, but were seemingly resolved at a Madrid summit in June in which Finland and Sweden agreed to address Ankara's concerns.

Now, Ilta-Sanomat (siirryt toiseen palveluun) has written that Mika Aaltola, head of the Finnish Institute for International Affairs (FIIA), believes that there could be a situation in which Turkey votes Finland into the alliance, but refuses to do so for Sweden.

In his view, the US has been negotiating with Turkey behind the scenes this whole time in order to get the two Nordic countries into Nato.

In Budapest, Iltalehti (siirryt toiseen palveluun) wrote that a vote for the admission of Finland and Sweden was blocked by Hungarian Prime Minister Vitkor Orbán's party in parliament.

In response to the Hungarian socialist party's proposal to vote for Nato membership on Tuesday, Hungary's ruling Fidesz party—the party of Orbán—provided a resounding thumbs down with parliament voting 117 to 39.

Hungary could even wait until Turkey comes to a decision on the matter prior to making one themselves, according to researcher Katalin Miklóssy at the Aleksanteri Institute.

"Hungarian Foreign Minister Péter Szijjártó said in May that he was not convinced that Finland and Sweden should join Nato and that Turkey's views should be taken into account. Hungary does not have a strong desire to promote Nato ratification," she said.

A better way to teach Swedish?

Swedish-language daily Hufvudstadsbladet (siirryt toiseen palveluun) covered the reaction to its editor-in-chief Erja Yläjärvi suggesting a reform to mandatory Swedish in schools.

Yläjärvi argued that Swedish instruction should be made more engaging and approached with a more laissez-faire attitude, possibly even a pass-fail grading system, emphasising that new ideas are needed to make Swedish more attractive in schools.

Christina Gestrin, Secretary General at The Swedish Assembly of Finland, also known as Folktinget, was not particularly convinced that motivation would be boosted by such a change. In her view, she believes that students put in more effort when they need to put in more effort. However, her primary argument is rooted in law.

"I can't imagine that our national languages would be treated differently. I don't think there's any reason to relax the teaching of Swedish in Finnish schools," she told HBL.

Gestrin said that she believes it would be backward to accommodate the opinion of the Finns Party, who have called for the end of mandatory Swedish in schools.

"At the moment, I think it would send the wrong signal to make Swedish an exception. There are many other school subjects that are also compulsory and that are also graded,' she said.

Mikko Ollikainen (SPP) of the Parliamentary Committee on Culture has a similar opinion. He likes Yläjärvi's proposal to the extent that it wants to create a positive attitude towards language learning.

In his previous job as a teacher, Ollikainen himself worked for "fun Finnish" in a Swedish school, as Finnish is not very popular in the Swedish-speaking part of Ostrobothnia.

"I'm not categorically saying no. Possibly this could be an option in a broader context, but it cannot apply only to Swedish. We also need to look at other subjects if we review the grading bases. Swedish in Finnish schools should not have a free pass," he clarified to HBL.

Ollikainen noted that Finland's Pisa results have been declining for some time and that education may need to be addressed. In that case, a grading reform could possibly be part of a broader package, but it should apply in all schools, regardless of subject.

"After all, we go for grades earlier in school in Finland than they do in Sweden. You have to evaluate what is better," he pointed out.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Wednesday 11 September 1839

3 ¼

11

F61 ½° at 4 ¼ am much rain in the night and sandy road .:. 6 horse off at 5 6/.. at Kyrkstad at 6 55/.. I hot and much bit in the night

K- to Bolstad 14 w.

Njölbolstad 13 w.

Helsingfors 68 w.

St. P- 480 w.

the woman had not been able to get us any Swedish money .:. agreed that she should take a 10 Rubel bill and be answerable for 6r. for the horses and take 4 towards her own bill and I paid her (at the rate 40sk. rigs per rubel) for the 2 remaining rubels

7 eight sk. banco notes i.e. 1.5.4+0.2.8 given over – very civil good tempered looking woman – much pleased we were so satisfied – remembered Handbook and his friend very well – said they had given her a small bit of money which she kept for their sake – I happening to have my 3 silver ½ dollar banco silver pieces in my pocket gave her one of them (that has a hole thro’ it) and desired her to keep it for I should ask to see it again sometime – Better rooms and house at Keala [Kealanoja]  last night but better eating here – Rain again and off in the rain at 5 6/.. – I slept most of the way – all forest till 6 55/.. when fine and sunny, and stopt to change horses /4 again) at some distance from the station house (did not even see it) near a small cottage where the red square headed mile post is set up – I got out for a few minutes very usefully the village must be near the station house on our left – scattered farms and cottages about – a pretty opening – very pretty country – wide winding wooded hill enclosed valley – a bit of forest again (young wood) in about hour+ - but good road – sandy land – but the road hard gravel like an English park road about 12ft. wide as usual, but sometimes less nice country all along to Bolstad at 8 ½ - stopt again in the road so[me] distance (left) 200 or 300 yards from the station house – walked to it – to see the direction post – could not find one – poor place – I think we could not well sleep there – the people 2 or 3 men and a woman

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0030

September Wednesday 11 at breakfast a little fish (apparently salted?) and boiled potatoes 2 rigs dollars a ton dearer here than at Stockholm – at last it was agreed that the woman should pay for our 4 horses from here 15 ½ w. to Everby [Ofverby] = 3.72 and the young man (her son?) gave me two 20kop. notes + one 75 kop. + two two-kop. copy pieces + two ½ sk. banco pieces for 4kop. = 5 Rubel – 5 kop. no wonder Handbook complained of their accommodation for the night – that is not the place to stop at – all Finnish commerce with Stockholm .:. all their money payments among themselves are in Swedish money but they are obliged to pay the taxe for posting in Russian money .:. are obliged to receive it for their horses – their wood (salmon) butter all goes to Stockholm but now they have the douane to pay = 2 rigs dollars per 60lbs. and being obliged to sell their butter at the Swedish price as they did before without duty they of course now lose this – and so equally the whole of the duties paid by them to Sweden is now a loss to them – the village of Bolstad not apparently very near the station – nice country – off from B- at 9 2/.. and at 9 ½ pretty lake and unpainted cottages and hamlets dotted here and there – green basin valley and lake and rounded wooded hills – in about 10 minutes more or ¼ hour come down upon the water wood bridge and cross it at one end where it looks river like – very pretty hereabouts rock and wood and water and villages and farms or cottages – a good deal of wind which curly the water – corn cocks as yesterday but now 9 ¾ it is rye – steep pitch up from the bridge and sandy road – at 10 ¼ moss-rocky forest – uphill and our horses hardish passed – all along sandy – pretty country – very pretty drive – at 10 50/.. at next stage to Finns 12 ½ w.

Helsingfors 39 and St. P- 451 w.

Öfverby (pronounced Everby) – small unpainted house – but probably might sleep tho’ not good - but the woman a decent woman – off at 11 – cocks of corn out here – rye I think – very pretty – rocky wooded hills and scattered unpainted little cottages and so red – the village of Ofverby (its neat little church at the foot of the hill just beyond the station) seems

September Wednesday 11 seems widely scattered in patches – winding pretty valley – round hilly and rather sandy – in ¼ hour (11 ¼) foresty again – several of the bare rocks today very white – all granite

the Fins a stupid looking people – here and there a red house but the red seems to bespeak a certain degree of [afflict] – the being better off than common – and here as in N. and S- the [?] (contamine) is growing as a weed among the rocks – we have not seen it as weed elsewhere because the land kept too clean – no weeds seen – now at 11 50/.. another wooded pretty lake right – and A- and I have just had a little of our Keala [Kealanoja] coq du bois that we brought away in paper – very good – many hamlets scattered about today – the country today seems more populous than yesterday? – at Finns at 12 13/..  

to Grahn 14 ½ w.

Helsingfors 26 ½ w.

St. P- 438 ½ w.

might sleep but not perhaps good place for it tho’ the civil woman came to say she could change a 5 Rubel note

nice open country about here wooded in the distance – 2 or 3 cottages near the station house – and large village or two of unpainted houses little distance (left) – rather pitchy last stage and at = off at 12 34/.. from Finns out with a steepitsh pitch from here and then pass thro’ a few houses and over 3 [?] bridges the unpainted cottages very picturesque dotted all round about interspersed  with patches of fir wood and wooded hill and well cultivated vale – now at 12 ¾ a little sun forest light – little pretty vale just below us right green rye and corn in cock (probably rye) not much oats grown in Finland? cottages or barns dotted up and down – fine foresty peopled drive this stage at 1 ¼ unpainted village in the widish basin vale little distance left of road and good yellow house and one or 2 red houses near – all looks well hereabouts – and slow at 1 20/.. descending and at the bottom of hill another pretty little lake near (left) – the openings and rounded dark pine wooded hills very picturesque – much mammelonné [mamelonné] rocky hill and bare and moss covered rock and boulder in our forest and sandy road now at 1 1/2 – here and everywhere much more Scotch fir than Spruce – this forest now at 1 ¾ the best as to size of trees (but none large) we have passed thro’ -

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0031

September Wednesday 11 in Finland – it opens out and we stop at Grahn at 1 57/.. nice little single house on a little [eminence], looking dry and comfortable – I should suppose one might sleep there as well as at Nyby or better? – the wide valley on plain studded with houses, farms, barns – the proportion of red increasing as if to denote our approach to the capital Helsingfors 12w. distance – large [?] beautiful lengthy finely wooded wooded island lake right sweeping along the wide valley – road hilly but tho’ rather sandy, good – forest covered rock alongside (left) – have written, or rubbed out pencilling, or read Handbook (article St. Petersburg) all this morning except added up the whole but 1 or 2 pp. of the Swedish account – since leaving Götheborg [Gothenburg] It seems (vide p. 174. 2nd vol.) that our pastor on board the steamer was M. Edouard de Moralt minster of the reformed church at St. P- and ‘the learned editor of an edition of Minuties’ Felix’ – probably Handbook knows him and sent him his book en cadeau? now at 2 20/.. road very sandy in the forest – at 2 40/.. gentleman’s house right – very pretty – a company of soldiers pass us – forest and break – very pretty – at 2 ¾ pass (close) broad shallow lake – at 2 55/.. Helsingfors church in sight – whitewashed like several other large neighbour buildings – church a fine object – fine looking town with its beautiful fjord – forest and break till now 2 55/.. that we emerge to bare Götheborg-like [Gothenburg] scantly wooded rocky hill – and gardens and houses marking our approach to the capital – at 3 at the water – beautiful view – cross good wood bridge – and at 3 ¼ at the Hotel du Nord – the fine dressed woman who came to us could do nothing – must wait for mademoiselle how should we stay – there was a room au 3me – I got tired of this work and drove off to the society’s house fronting the harbour – settled

September Wednesday 11 there very comfortably at 3 ½ - 2 nice rooms and lodging for the servants at 6 rubels a day – au 3me? but good – ordered dinner at 6 ½ and A- and I out at 4 10/.. – took John – to the botanic garden –

Stymphoricarpus [symphoricarpos] racemosus (snowberry bush) in flower

Vïburnum [Viburnum] Lentago a little like prunus padus but with broader leaf

V- dentatum (leaf something between the hazel and syringa leaf?)

Lonicera caprifolia [caprifolium] (as called by the gardener) the shrub I observed at Åbo with a little orange coloured berry, looking a [specie] of honeysuckle

Populus canescens (white abele)

P. cardifolia

Delphinium.  several specie large beautiful blue flower – a little in the style of aconite – have often seen it in a pot in the window in these northern parts

Lythrum, several specie pretty pink flower in spikes 6 or 8 inch long – narrow leaf – would be pretty (to give colour) at Shibden and hardy enough -  

Asclepias incarata [incarnata] (in flower – pinkish – pretty would do at Shibden)

Phlox several specie pretty little genus-pink and white – in flower like a smooth sweet William – 6 petal flower – the white very common in England gardens

Borago officinalis – pretty blue flower – 5 petals woolly stern and leaves – whatever will do well out of doors here, would do at Shibden – much wind today must be very cold, and exposed in winter – the garden garden divided into small compartments for the flowers, and sheltered by hedges the tall ones of lilac, and acacia, and Norway maple and the low ones of Spiraea calcifolia [salicifolia] – try this hedging plan at Shibden with along the middle a hedge of Spruce firs – or Sycamores? a very pretty hardy looking mespilus? or [?]? with clusters of hawthorn-like (but larger) red haws – Inquire for this –

In returning about 5 ¾ set John at liberty and A- and I sauntered into and about the handsome new not finished church – a Greek cross with 4 Corinthian porticos and pediments – then stood some while listening to the military band and came in at 6 ½ - dinner at 6 ¾ soup, mutton cutlets, sort of

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0032

September Wednesday 11

sweet omlet, and afterwards a sort of roll pancaky thing for dessert – no mead now – too late in the season – had plenty in the summer - .:. had each 2 cups of coffee – then siding had Grotza – then wrote the last page till now 10pm. very fine day – a good deal of wind all day but this afternoon particularly, and particularly here – a very handsome town – fine day F61 ½° now at 10 ½ pm

[henrikanderssonart]

Havmanden, The Merman 2021

Online work for GIBCA

57°46'18.0"N, 11°40'29.0"E are the longitude- and latitude coordinates of the wreck of the Danish frigate Havmanden. In Kjällöfjord, slightly north of Björkö, in the northern Gothenburg archipelago, is the uninhabited island Risö, on which I am standing facing north-northwest. On the horizon, I can see Carlstens fortress in Marstrand, with its characteristic shape of a cylinder on a block. Boats pass through the waterway in a north-south direction. I cannot remember how many times I have sailed this route along the coast heading north. Not once have I reflected upon what lies hidden here, at the bottom of the sea. I lower my gaze from the horizon and face the islet situated half a cable length from the peninsula where I am standing. Between me and the islet, somewhere on the ocean floor, is where it lies: The Danish West India Company’s ship Havmanden that ran aground in 1683.

 I prepare myself to dive. From the navigational chart, I conclude that it is about 5-10 meters to the bottom. A depth I should manage to free dive, i.e. to dive without air from tubes. From the smooth Bohuslän rock, I slip into the water and put on my fins, I spit into the swim mask, gently rubbing and rinsing it with salt water to avoid misting on the glass. I wind the film forward in my Nikonos underwater camera, lift my feet from the bottom, and allow myself to float into the strait between the islands. The wetsuit provides me with buoyancy, despite my lead weight belt. I follow the cliff’s extension towards deeper waters. Tufts of seaweed and algae sway in the waves. Sunlight is refracted into rays upon meeting the water and here, close by the surface, the colours of the plants are clearly reflected. I stay close to the surface and swim farther away from land. The bottom disappears into a cloudy haze in tune with sloping downwards, and soon enough I see nothing more than a cyano-coloured soup of organic material and sediment dissolved in the water. The sea of Kattegatt now completely encloses me. I breathe through the snorkel and decide to dive. I take a few deep breaths and finally hold it. I turn in a forward somersault until I am upside down vertically in the water. In a swim stroke, I grab hold of the water and pull myself down. I can feel my feet in the air above the water surface, but soon enough they are also submerged. My journey down is reduced by the buoyancy of my body and wetsuit and I kick with my legs to continue. Soon enough, I have become neutrally buoyant, my density is equal to that of the water, I am neither sinking nor rising. One last kick with my legs and I can feel that I am now sinking by myself. The pressure of the water has compressed the oxygen in my body so that I am negatively buoyant. I continue down but I can still not see the bottom.

 The story of Havmanden is multifaceted and complex, with resonance in this day and age. It needs to be told in the entirety of events that resulted in the Danish frigate ending up at the bottom of the sea outside of Gothenburg. My dive is an attempt to evoke an image and a position from an underwater environment, from which a historical horizon can emerge.

During the 17th century, Denmark, as well as Sweden, attempted to advance their positions in the evolving colonial era. At the core was the so-called triangular trade, where plantations in America produced raw materials for Europe. The production was based on slave labour carried out by people kidnapped from the African continent. Slave trade and slave labour was exchanged for profit and technological development in Europe.

 Denmark and the Danish West India Company had taken control over the Swedish slave fort Carolusborg (Cape Coast Castle) in Ghana and established other forts along the west coast of Africa in order to bring people across the Atlantic to be sold. Sweden was initially unsuccessful with its colonial expansion and Denmark had a hard time establishing and keeping its colony St. Thomas in the West Indies in order. A life with hardship or death awaited the ones that were forced there.

 In 1682, a new Governor, Jörgen Iversen, was appointed to oversee St. Thomas and take control over the activities on the island. In the autumn of the same year, the Danish West India Company, with the support of King Christian V of Denmark, equips the ship Havmanden. The aim of the journey was to transport Danish convicts to St. Thomas and then continue sailing to the west coast of Africa to acquire slaves. Thereafter they were to return to the West Indies with the slaves and then redirect back towards Denmark. Onboard the outward journey was material to build institutions on the island, as well as the 120 convicts that were to be forced to work in the Caribbean. Twenty of them were women convicted of prostitution. It is this captive workforce who, for some months, will come to rattle the hierarchies in the Danish trans-Atlantic trade. On January 20 when the ship is in the English Channel, the prisoners, together with the sailors, make a mutiny. The Governor, the Captain, and five other officials are arrested and killed by being thrown into the sea. When the mutineers seize the ship, they sail to the Azores and release the prisoners. The remaining mutineers plan to sail to Ireland to sell the ship, but conflicts amongst them result in some of the mutineers taking the chance to save their own skin and sail back home to Copenhagen. At the end of March, when the ship enters the Kattegatt, they are struck by a westerly storm and the ship is pushed towards the Swedish coast. The ship manages to pass through the tight passage between the islands Hälso-Källö-Hyppeln to then drop ship anchor in an emergency before running aground at Risö.

 The alderman at Marstrand has the five mutineers arrested and taken back to Copenhagen. There they are executed by being tortured and beheaded.

 During this time, mutiny was not unusual. However, the mutiny on Havmanden is well-documented and can be read according to the organization of means of production as well as the brutality that Europe’s elite based their prosperity upon. In his thesis, Mutiny in the Danish Atlantic World, Johan Heinsen makes note that there existed a dissonance within the European colonial project, and this was manifested in a conflict such as the mutiny on Havmanden. There are three established ways to understand and analyze mutiny. Firstly, mutiny can be understood from a sort of neurosensory perspective, where the lack of food, water, and heat results in a reaction, a kind of auto impulse, to accommodate basic needs. Secondly,

seafaring per se is an extremely ritualistic place that follows the narrative of a theatrical act of sorts. If the narrative changes, the crew can there and then, consider themselves entitled to seize control of the ship. Thirdly, as a more materialistic reading, mutiny can be based upon a conflict between those who own and rule and those whose labour is being exploited. In this case, the mutiny is justified as the ship should belong to those whose labour the voyage is based upon. All three ways to gain an understanding of mutiny can be applied to Havmanden.

 Heinsen also introduces dissonance as a fourth reading of the mutiny, where a conflict arises between the speaker and the hearer. Shipping environments are places governed by sound, as visibility in open seas is filled with emptiness. When Governor Iversen attempts to calm the crew with speech, the subordinates hear something else. They know that within one year on St. Thomas they will most likely die from hard labour, starvation, and illnesses. Whatever the Governor says, this is what they hear.

 The sea and underwater environment is in itself a place where cognitive dissonance becomes visible. Places that have nothing to do with each other are tied together through the expansiveness of sea, and within this translocation, profits arise, although they are values created at the expense of another. The sea is also a dangerous place where people cannot live. It is a site for the imagination and dreams, but also death.

 The so-called discovery of the New World appears to also have led to some unconscious psychological convulsions in the explorers, whose symptoms are represented in works such as Atlantica (1677) by Olof Rudebeck the Elder. In his text, which is a work of propaganda on the Swedish Empire, Rudebeck explains the origin of Sweden through the myth of Atlantis. Rudebeck sets out to prove that all the world’s knowledge originates in the utopia Plato refers to as Atlantis which would be identical with Sweden. His historical works were dismissed by his contemporaries from the outset as being far too imaginative, but Rudebeck’s preoccupation with historical chronology can be read through the discovery of a New World. After Columbus disembarks in the New World, in one instance Europe becomes the Old World.

A work such as Atlantica can be understood as a symptom of a dynamic that arises between new and old territories, giving rise to speculation about who is entitled to the New World.

 The camera in my hand is based on the underwater camera that photographer and adventurer Jacques -Yves Costeau developed when he popularised and medialised the underwater environment in the 50s and 60s. With his research vessel Calypso, he undertook several journeys and created films that became commercial successes, such as Le Monde du Silence (The Silent World) from 1956. In the film, we follow the work aboard Calypso, which is not only a moving diving platform on an undefined sea but also a floating photo lab for still and moving photography. In one passage, Costeau describes the overall intention with the mission, whilst also studying the graph from an echo sounder which, through electroacoustics, maps the depth of the ocean below the vessel. Costeau explains that an echo often appears, as though there is something very large thousands of metres down that has yet to be explained.

Costeau arranges for cameras to be lowered down into the dark to photograph whatever may be down there, and despite the film being developed on-board, he finds no answers. The void appears to be the driving force.

 In another scene, the crew is engaged in following a group of whales. Unfortunately enough, Calypso accidentally collides with a whale calf, which is seriously injured. The crew, who feel obliged to kill the injured animal, bring out with ill-concealed delight, the harpoon cannon and kill the calf. What follows is a particularly strange scene, which swiftly tells us something about the unconsciousness of the crew. A group of sharks is attracted to the dead whale and begins to eat at the dead body. Initially, the crew becomes interested in studying the sharks, but suddenly their curiosity turns into fury. In a rage, they go after the sharks that are quite close to the surface, and with hooks, axes, and sledgehammers kill shark after shark. I wonder what it is in this specific homosocial environment that brings forth such affective actions? The sea, the emptiness, the violence - is it the scientists' critical distance and judgment that enables a verdict over the non-human sharks?

 Now I sense the bottom. The pressure on my eardrums increases and I have to equalise by pressing air through my nose into my ears. The ocean floor is smooth with some vegetation. Since my time here is restricted to my ability to conserve the oxygen I have in my body, I have decided to photograph straight ahead and indiscriminately. I simply wind up the film and continuously press down the shutter. The camera has been preset, and I now photograph as much as I can.

 Then, suddenly, a structure manifests itself. It is two dark lines that criss-cross over the ocean floor. A straight angle is rarely natural. When I come closer I see what it is: two rectangular piles of square stones are sunk into the sand. It can be nothing other than bricks. This is what remains from Havmanden. For 338 years they have rested at the bottom of the sea whilst the shipwreck rotted away.

The bricks filled two functions on Havmanden. Firstly, as a ballast to stabilise the ship whilst sailing. Secondly, once the frigate had arrived on St. Thomas, they were intended to become buildings from which the colony was to be ruled and administered. For a few seconds, I hover over the objects and view them through the glass of the mask. The mask and camera provide me with a sort of optical privilege that is based on the distance between myself and the stones, and between me and history. At the same time, I cannot stop but feel a sense of closeness, we share the same enclosing substance, the sea.

 The stones hardly have any vegetation on them, which surprises me. I have a hard time determining their colour as the light of longer wavelengths, such as red and yellow, cannot probe this depth which blue-green can. Everything turns a cyan-colour yet I am convinced that these are not red bricks but yellow-brown. It is said they have the same origin as the bricks in the house Charlottenburg in Copenhagen, where The Royal Art Academy can be found.

 The oxygen in my body is running out and the carbon dioxide induces an intense longing to breathe. I stop myself from the impulse to touch one of the stones, as they are subject to the Antiquities Act. Instead, I turn towards the surface and the sun that breaches through the waves. I kick with my feet, find some momentum, and in an instance I am back in the summer coastal landscape. Yet before I can breathe I have to blow the water of Kattegatt out of my snorkel and mouth.

 A few weeks later, when I have immersed the film into developing chemicals and then allowed it to dry, I have the opportunity to, at a distance, view the event through the negatives on my light table. It turns out that I have not managed to capture a single sharp image of the wreck of Havmanden. It appears that I have either not held the camera still enough or managed to set the sharpness. Somewhat downcast in spirit I put the negatives aside before recalling Captain Cousteau’s expedition to photograph ghost echoes in the depths of the sea and I decide to look through the images one more time, as if perhaps, there might be something there. I seem to have taken some pictures straight out which, when I scan the images, appears to be nothing more than a tone of blue-green. However, I bring up the contrast and I can then see a refraction running vertically across the image. It is sunlight refracted in the water surface and hits what is called backscatter in the water, and therefore it becomes prominent. The last image from the dive is taken at the same time as I turn away from the bottom and swim upwards, it is photographed straight towards the sun from the wreck. The film on the light table is in itself a surface that lets through light and through it another membrane appears. It is the boundary between air and water that, through the forms of the waves, creates a series of lenses that generate light beams. Just as the film mediates between that at which a given moment has taken place, with certain specific requirements, the sea surface appears to create a boundary between different states. This dividing line can be likened to photography’s making of disparities, which appears to elicit both distress and possibilities, ultimately introducing a crisis. I recall one final scene from The Silent World where Cousteau says the imperative sentence “Sometimes a marine biologist must use dynamite on a coral reef”, meaning that in order to scientifically count how many fish there are in a coral reef he must explode dynamite to kill them all – taking photographs is not accurate enough. The explosion in this scene resembles a miniature version of the French nuclear test from the Mururora atoll in the Pacific during the 1960s. Cousteau acknowledges what he is doing as an act of vandalism, but also states that this needs to be done in the name of science. This type of reasoning can be understood through theorist Ariella Azoulay´s text Unlearning decisive moments of Photography, where she links the colonial ideology of the imperial right to take photographs to the imperial right to destroy existing worlds and the right to manufacture a new world.

As it turns out the realm of the underwater is not silent at all, but rather a world of dissonance.

[lumassen]

For the drabble challenge, Denmark and 3

Prompt: 'I may be an idiot, but I'm not stupid."

I thought I'd write a bit of DenFin for this one! Sorry it's a little short. I hope you like it!

✨✨✨✨

"I may be an idiot, but I'm not stupid. I know what you all think about me." Denmark muttered under his breath.

He had his back turned to Finland who was sat on his sofa as he busied himself with watering the houseplants around his living room.

"Of course you're not stupid, Tanska!" Finland said, an apologetic tone to his voice.

"So why didn'tcha invite me then?"

Last week, Finland and Iceland had gone to Norway's house and camped out in Austnesfjord and spent the weekend hiking, foraging and fishing. Denmark had only found out that they'd gone when Iceland posted a funny picture of Finland asleep in the tent in their group chat.

"We didn't invite Ruotsi either, we just didn't think it was your thing! I'm sorry if you're upset." Finland stood up and came over to look at the plant that Denmark was watering, admiring the glossy leaves.

"Well Sve was at a conference in Malmö so of course he couldn't have gone even if you had invited him..." Denmark said, feeling dejected. He knew that the other Nordics were more outdoorsy than he was, and over the years he'd lost touch with that part of himself. Glancing at Finland, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous of him. He was, in the nicest way, the strangest of the Nordics and had the richest traditions. But despite looking friendly and soft, he was surprisingly strong and his hunting skills were much to be desired.

Compared to Finland's impressive resistance to the cold, Iceland's tolerance to his ruthless climate, Norway's unbeatable knowledge of the wilderness and Sweden's ability to craft pretty much anything with his bare hands, Denmark couldn't help but feel a little pathetic. As once the great leader of the Vikings, he felt that he was getting passed his prime and showing his age more often than not.

"If you want, you could come to my house with me. We could go to the cabin for the weekend?" Finland suggested, peering up into Denmark's downcast face. If it were anyone else, Denmark would have been irritated by the pity, but Finland wasn't the type to pity someone.

Putting the watering can down on the table, Denmark raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Ya sure?"

Finland smiled and nodded.

"Of course, it'll be fun!"

-----------

The sky was darkening around them, and Denmark plonked himself down in the camping chair by the fire. Finland had been right, it had been fun, and despite the aching in his bones from so many activities, he felt so happy.

He'd spent the weekend fishing, swimming and hiking in Muonio and for the first time in a long time felt like he had back then when it had been the five of them together, ruling over Northern Europe. Finland had been patient with him while he'd prepared the fish they'd caught, built the fire and practiced skills he hadn't used in a long time.

He sat back, glancing at Finland as he sat in his chair beside him, looking up at the stars. Denmark would never be as in tune with nature than Fin was, but he was happy to share the moment. Finland really was beautiful, and once Denmark had stopped sending selfies and pictures to the group chat every five minutes to prove to the others that he was still just as outdoorsy as they were did he finally stop and appreciate what was around him.

"Hey Fin," he said, causing Finland to tear his eyes away from the sky and smile at him.

"What's up?" he said, as cheerful as ever.

"Thank you." Denmark beamed, and he meant it, not feeling like such an old man after all.

-------

Sorta inspired by this strip from the manga, and because I love outdoorsy Fin.

I just liked the idea of Fin hanging out with Den and making sure that he feels included ♥️ the poor guy isn't the Viking he used to be, and I imagine that he's a little insecure about it. (This is the shortest and most un-detailed story I've ever written lol)

[the-deeds-to-shibden]

Wednesday 11 September 1839

[Bugs bite Anne during the night, but she is happy with the innkeeper and gives her a memento, which she is to hold on to until the next time Anne visits, perhaps on the way back home (sigh). Although she and Ann clearly like the Finns, Anne is apparently not impressed by their physical appearance and makes a characteristically blunt remark in her notes. Munching on a takeaway bird, the Ann(e)s reach Helsinki, where they first visit the botanical garden, and Anne considers planting the various interesting flowers at Shibden when she returns (sigh). They visit the brand new cathedral, listen to music, and have another hearty dinner, although there is disappointingly no mead to be had.]

[up at] 3 1/4

[to bed at] 11

Fahrenheit 61 1/2 at 4 1/4 a.m. much rain in the night and sandy road therefore 6 horses

off at 5 6/” at Kyrkstad at 6 55/”                                            

Kyrkstad to Bolstad 14 w[erst]                                    

                   Mjölbolstad 13 w[erst]                              

Helsingfors 68 w[erst]                                                          

St. Petersburg 480 w[erst]                                      

I hot and much bit in the night – the woman had not been able to get us any small money therefore agreed that she should take a 10 Ruble bill and be answerable for 6 rubles for the horses and take 4 towards her own bill and I paid her (at the rate 40 skillings rigs per rubel) for the 2 remaining rubels 7 eight skilling Banco notes i.e. 1.5.4 + 0.2.8 given over – very civil good tempered looking woman much pleasured we were so satisfied –  remembered Handbook and his friend very well – said they had given her a small bit of money which she kept for their sake – I happening to have my 3 silver 1/2 dollar banco silver pieces in my pocket gave her one of them (that has a hole thro’ it) and desired her to keep it – for I should ask to see it  again some time – Better rooms and house at Keala last night but better eating here – Rain again and off in the rain at 5 6/” – I slept most of the way – all forest till 6 55/” when fine and sunny, and stopt to change horses (4 again) at some distance from the station house (did not even see it) near a small cottage where the red square headed mile post is set up – I got out for a few minutes very usefully the village must be near the station house on our left – scattered farms and cottages about – a pretty opening – very pretty country – wide winding wooded hill enclosed valley – a bit of forest again (young wood) – about hour+  – but good road – sandy land – but the road hard gravel like an English park road about 12 feet wide as usual, but sometimes less –  nice country all along to Bolstad at 8 1/2 – stopt again in the road some distance (left) 200 or 30 /sic/ yards from the station house – walked to it –  to see the direction post – could not find one – poor place – I think we could not well sleep there – the people 2 or 3 men and a woman at breakfast on little fish (apparently salted?) and boiled potatoes 2 rigs dollars a ton dearer here than at Stockholm – at last it was agreed that the woman should pay for our 4 horses from here 15 1/2  wersts to Everby = 3.72 and the young man (her son?) gave me two 20 kopek notes + one 75 kopek + two two-kopek copper pieces + two 1/2 skilling banco pieces for 4 kopeks = 5 Rubles – 5 kopeks no wonder Handbook complained of their accommodations for the night – this is not the place to stop at – all Finnish commerce with Stockholm therefore all their money payments among themselves are in Swedish money but they are obliged to pay the taxe for posting in Russian money therefore are obliged to receive it for their horses – their wood, salmon, butter all goes to Stockholm – but now they have the douane to pay = 2 rigs dollars per 60 lbs. pounds and being obliged to sell their butter at the Swedish price as they did before without duty they of course now lose this – and so equally the whole of the duties paid by them to Sweden is now a loss to them – the village of Bolstad not apparently very near the station – nice country –

off from Bolstad at 9 2/” and at 9 1/2  pretty lake and unpainted cottages and hamlets dotted here and there – green basin valley and lake and rounded wooded hills –  in about 10 minutes more or 1/4 hour come down upon the water and wood bridge and cross it at the near end where it looks river like – very pretty hereabouts rock and wood and water and villages and farms or cottages – a good deal of wind which curls the water corn cocks as yesterday but now 9 3/4 it is rye – steep pitch up from the bridge and sandy road – at 10 1/4 moss-rocky forest – uphill  and our horses hardish pressed – all along sandy – pretty country very pretty drive –

at 10 50/” at  Ӧfverby (pronounced Everby) –  next stage to Finns 12 1/2 wersts Helsingfors 39 and St. Petersburg 451 wersts small unpainted house – but probably might sleep tho’ not good –  but the woman a decent woman – off at 11 – cocks of corn out here – rye I think – very pretty – rocky wooded hills and scattered unpainted little cottages – some red – the village of Ofverby (its neat little church at the foot of the hill just beyond the station) seems seems /sic/ widely scattered in patches – winding pretty valley – round hilly –  and rather sandy – in 1/4 hour (11 1/4) foresty again – several of the bare rocks today very white – all granite –  the Fins a stupid looking people – here and there a red house but the red seems to bespeak an certain degree of affluence – the being better off than common – and here as in Norway and Sweden the Epilobium (contamine) is growing as a weed among the rocks – we have not seen it as weed elsewhere because the land kept too clean – no weeds seen –  now at 11 50/” another wooded pretty lake right – and Ann and I have just had a little of our Keala coq du bois that we brought away in paper – very good – many hamlets scattered about today – the country today seems more populous than yesterday? –

at Finns at 12 13/”

to Grahn 14 1/2 wersts Helsingfors 26 1/2 wersts    

St. Petersburg 438 1/2 wersts

might sleep but not perhaps good place for it tho’ the civil woman came to say she could change a 5 Ruble note nice open country about here wooded in the distance – 2 or 3 cottages near the station house – and large village or two of unpainted houses little distance (left) – rather pitchy last stage and sets off at 12 34/” from Finns out with a steepish pitch from here and then pass the unpainted cottages and over 3 wood bridges very picturesque dotted all round about interspersed with patches of fir wood and wooded hill and well cultivated dale – now at 12 3/4  a little sun – forest left little pretty valley just before us right green rye and corn in cock (probably rye) not much oats grown in Finland? cottages or barns dotted up and down – fine foresty peopled drive this stage –  at 1 1/4 unpainted village in the widish basin valley little distance left of road and good yellow house and one or 2 red houses near – all looks well hereabouts – and now at 1 20/”  descending and at the bottom of hill another pretty little lake near (left) –  the openings and rounded dark pine wooded hills very picturesque – much mammelonné rocky hill and bare and moss covered rock and boulder in our forest and sandy road now at 1 1/2 – here and  everywhere much more Scotch fir than spruce  – this forest now at 1 3/4  the best as to size of trees (but none large) we have passed thro’ – in Finland –

it opens out and we stop at Grahn at 1 57/” nice little single house on a little eminence, looking dry and comfortable – I should suppose one might sleep there as well as at Nyby or better? – the wide basin valley or plain studded with houses, farms, barns – the proportion of red increasing as if to denote our approach to the capital  Helsingfors 12 wersts distance – large indented beautiful lengthy finely wooded wooded islandy lake right sweeping along the wide valley – road hilly but tho’ rather sandy, good – forest covered rock alongside (left) –  have written, or rubbed out pencilling, or read Handbook (article Saint Petersburg) all this morning except adding up the whole but 1 or 2 pages of the Swedish account since leaving Götheborg –  It seems (vide page 174. 2nd column) that our pastor on board the steamer was Monsieur Edouard de Moralt minister of the reformed church at Saint Petersburg ‘and learned editor of an edition of Minutius Felix’ – probably Handbook knows him and sent him his book en cadeau? – now at 2 20/” road very sandy in the  forest – at 4 40/” gentleman’s house right – very pretty – a company of soldiers pass us – forest and break – very pretty – at 2 3/4  pass (close) broad shallow lake –

at 2 55/” Helsingfors church in sight – white washed like several other large neighbour buildings – church a fine object – fine looking town with its beautiful fjord – forest and break till now 2 55/” that we emerge to bare Götheborg-like scantily wooded rocky hill – and gardens and houses marking our approach to the capital – at 3 at the water – beautiful view – cross good wood bridge – and at 3 1/4 at the Hotel du nord – the fine dressed woman who came to us could do nothing – must wait for Mademoiselle how should we stay – there was a room au troisième – got tired of this work and drove off to the Society’s house fronting the harbour – settled  there very comfortably at 3 1/2 – 2 nice rooms and lodging for the servants at 6 rubels a day – au troisième? but good – ordered dinner at 6 1/2  and Ann and I out at 4 10/” – took John – to the botanic garden

Stymphoricarpus racemosus (snowberry bush) in flower

Viburnum Lentago a little like prunus padus but with broader leaf

Viburnum dentatum (leaf something between the hazel and syringa leaf?)

Lonicera caprifolia (as called by the gardener) the shrub I observed at Abo with a little orange coloured berry, looking like a species of honeysuckle

Populus canescens (white abele)

Populus cardifolia 

Delphinium. several species large beautiful blue flower – a little in the style of aconite – have often [?] seen it in in a pot in the window in these northern parts –

Lythrum, several species pretty pink flower in spokes 6 or 8 inches long – narrow leaf – would be pretty (to give colour) at Shibden and hardy enough –  

Asclepias incarata, in flower – pinkish – pretty would do at Shibden –  

Phlox, several species a pretty genus – pink and white – in flower like a smooth sweet William – 6 petal flower – the white very common in English gardens –  

Borago officinalis – pretty blue flower – 5 petals woolly stem and leaves – whatever will do well out of doors here, would do at Shibden –

much wind today must be very cold, and exposed in winter – the garden divided into small compartments for the flowers, and sheltered by hedges the tall ones of lilac, and acacia, and Norway maple, and the low ones of Spiraea calcifolia – try this hedges plan at Shibden with along the middle a hedge of spruce firs – or Sycamores? a very pretty hardy looking mespilus? or crataegus? with clusters of hawthorn-like (but larger) red haws – Inquire for this –  In returning about 5 3/4 set John at liberty and Ann and I sauntered into and about the handsome new, not finished church – a Greek cross, with 4 Corinthian porticos and pediments – then stood some while listening to the military band and came in at 6 1/2 – dinner at 6 3/4 soup, mutton cutlets, sort of sweet omlet, and afterwards a sort of roll pancaky thing for dessert – no mead now – too late in the season – had plenty in the summer – therefore had each 2 cups of coffee – then siding – had Grotza – then wrote the last page till now 10 p.m. very fine day – a good deal of wind all day but this afternoon particularly, and particularly here – a very handsome town – fine day Fahrenheit 61 1/2º now at 10 1/2 p.m.  

Anne’s marginal notes:

=

“

the only log house we have slept in.

Nyby

good Inn

=

Bolstad

Finnish commerce

observation on the Fins

=

Mr. Moralt.

Helsingfors.

church

WYAS pages:    SH:7/ML/TR/13/0029    SH:7/ML/TR/13/0030      SH:7/ML/TR/13/0031        SH:7/ML/TR/13/0032

The Society House hotel in Helsinki (founded in 1833) where Anne and Ann stayed; the building is now the Helsinki City Hall:

(image source)

The newly-built and not quite finished Helsinki Cathedral in 1838, the way it would have still looked the following year when Anne and Ann visited:

(image source)

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 1 - Tapped Out

Catch Perfect by George deValier

CHAPTER ONE

TAPPED OUT: A player who has lost all of his money.

Berwald drove slowly down the narrow residential road. Situated behind the university, it was a colourful, ramshackle sort of a street, obviously inhabited mainly by students. The houses were large, slightly dilapidated, many with evidence of renovations half completed then forgotten. The cars in the driveways looked old and run down. An inordinate amount of people were hanging around outside, talking over fences and strolling the footpaths; Berwald could hear the racket of people shouting and music blaring even from inside his car.

Berwald scanned the numbers of the houses he passed. He was not exactly excited about moving into a share house - in fact he was dreading it - but after his last disastrous game he didn't have much of a choice. Having lost everything, and now completely broke, he had five days to move out of his apartment. So when he'd spotted the ad for a 'Gay-friendly, Scandinavian Housemate' in the student paper he'd figured that, although a bit strange, it was probably his best option. He was a bit apprehensive, though, based on the phone call he'd made.

"Hello?" A bored voice answered after three rings.

"Hi. Callin' 'bout the ad."

"Excuse me?"

"The ad, in th'paper."

"Oh right, right. ICELAND!" Berwald winced as the voice shouted in his ear. "PHONE FOR YOU!"

A few seconds later. "Hello?"

"I… hi. Callin' 'bout the ad."

"'kay big boy, so it's ten bucks for the first five minutes, twenty every five after that, it'll be extra if you're after anything too kinky. You got the PayPal info there?"

"Er… um. The ad 'bout th'housemate."

"Oh, for Christ's sake… NORWAY YOU IDIOT HE'S CALLING ABOUT THE HOUSEMATE WANTED AD!"

A few seconds later the original voice came back on the line. "You can come look at the place tomorrow. Number 58. You'll know it when you see it."

Berwald did not have a chance to respond before the line went dead.

Coming back to the present, Berwald slowed down as some students kicked a soccer ball down the street and nearly ran in front of his car. He gritted his teeth in annoyance… some people deserved to get run over. The students waved a halfhearted apology and ran off the road into a group converging on a front lawn. Berwald nearly swerved off the road… was that blond guy naked?

He was just gaining control of the car when he saw it - an enormous Danish flag flying in front of a two-story house. Now he knew what they'd meant by knowing it when he saw it. He pulled into the driveway of number 58, parking behind a battered old Volvo. Steeling himself, and still wondering if he was doing the right thing, Berwald got out of the car and walked to the front door.

He was interrupted mid-knock as a tall, blond man brandishing a beer can threw open the door. "Yeah what?" he shouted.

"Here 'bout the ad," said Berwald, taken aback.

The man stood a bit taller and narrowed his eyes. "Which one?"

"Stud'nt paper."

"What?"

"Stud'nt paper," Berwald repeated a little louder.

"Aaah…" The blond instantly relaxed. "Let's see, that was the ad for the housemate… you gay friendly?"

Berwald wasn't actually quite sure what that meant. He'd never given much thought to his own sexuality, but he wasn't bothered by anyone else's, so he nodded. "Sure."

"Scandinavian?"

Berwald nodded again. "Swedish."

The man's eyes lit up worryingly. "The last piece of the map arrives! Come on in, Sweden. We've been waiting."

Berwald stepped warily through the door and was immediately hit by the strong smell of smoke and air freshener. He glanced cautiously around the large, open house. Some trash-laden couches and scattered beanbags centred around a TV to the left; a young man in a blue beret sat reading at a large dining table to the right. He didn't look up.

"Want a beer?" asked the loud blond, opening a small fridge in the corner of the room. It was surrounded by plastic crates, bottles both full and empty, and plastic cups. Berwald shook his head but the man tossed him a can anyway. "Haven't seen you around campus," he continued after taking a swig from his own can. "What are you studying?"

Berwald had been dreading this part of the conversation. "M'not a student."

"You work there?"

Berwald nodded and hoped he would leave it at that. No such luck.

"You're not a professor, are you?"

"No." Berwald discreetly placed the beer can in a dead pot plant. "Gard'ner."

There was a silence as the blond stared at him. Berwald stared back.

"Huh."

Actually, that was a far better reaction than Berwald was used to.

"I'm Denmark."

"Denm'rk?"

"You're kind of hard to understand, man."

Berwald shrugged. He was used to hearing that, although he wasn't sure why. He'd worked hard to get rid of his accent.

Denmark broke into a grin and laughed loudly. "Sweden, you're all right. You don't talk much, and I like that. When can you move in?"

Berwald just stared. He wasn't good with words at the best of times, and this certainly wasn't one of those.

"Let me show you around the place." Denmark casually threw his arm around Berwald's shoulder, and Berwald fought the instinct to throw it off. Denmark led him to the dining table first. "This is my sugar plum, Norway. Isn't he the sweetest thing you've ever seen?" Denmark ruffled Norway's beret.

"Don't touch me," Norway growled. He did not look up from his book: The Stranger by Albert Camus.

Denmark giggled and pinched Norway's cheek. "Yes you are just the sweetest, cutest little pixie in all of Scandinavia you are!"

"I am going to kill you one day."

"Hehe, silly little Norge."

Berwald blinked in surprise. He was starting to wonder about Denmark's mental wellbeing – and what was with the names?

"And here we have the living room," Denmark continued, steering Berwald over to the circle of couches. What Berwald had taken for a large pile of rubbish was actually two guys, asleep, covered in cushions, fast food wrappers, and empty bottles. "This is Faeroe, and this is Greenland."

"My name's Mike," came a muffled voice from beneath a cushion.

"Shut up, Greenland. Now Sweden, as my newest subject you have last choice in the television viewing schedule. If you wish to view a program, you must submit the title and time of the show, in writing, at least one week prior to its airtime. Please also include a brief summary of its content and why you…"

"Don't watch much TV," Berwald interrupted quickly.

"Ah. Well there you go. Study's through the back there, and the kitchen is right through here…"

It was obvious by this stage that Berwald should just leave. He didn't really get people. He didn't particularly like people. And any person choosing to live with this 'Denmark' had to be either perpetually drunk or a little insane. Being students, possibly both. He tried to protest as Denmark steered him into the kitchen. "Look, th'nks, but think I might…"

"Finland!" cried Denmark cheerfully. "When did you get home?"

The young man in the kitchen glanced up as he shut the fridge. "Hey, Den. I just came in through the back."

"Sweden, this is Finland."

Berwald's heart suddenly, unexpectedly, filled his chest. The instant their eyes met, Finland blinked his away, stepping back to grip the counter behind him. He stared intently at his feet, as though they were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. He had two different shoes on. Berwald couldn't breathe.

"Finland, meet Sweden, our new housemate." Denmark's voice sounded muffled and far away.

Berwald opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry. He coughed a few times before finally managing to say, "'t's B'rw'ld."

"It's what?"

"It's Berwald," Finland clarified, still staring at his feet, his light blond hair falling in his eyes. Berwald had seen them only briefly, and thought they were blue. Or green. Or hazel.

"What's Berwald?"

"He's Berwald!"

"No, Fin, he's Sweden."

Finland just shook his head. He was wearing the ugliest sweater Berwald had ever seen. It had a moose on it. "It's very nice to meet you, Berwald. My name is Tino."

Tino. Berwald almost spoke it aloud… Tino. What a wonderful name. Shy Tino. Blue or green or hazel eyed Tino. Tino, whose shoes did not match.

Denmark swung himself up to sit on the bench and patted Tino on the shoulder. "Great to see you're getting along with your new roommate."

Berwald felt his brain cease functioning at this point. "Roommate?"

"Yeah, look, I know we advertised another room but you know how these things go." Denmark shrugged and took a gulp from his beer can. "Decided we needed it for the twister mat."

"He's moving into my room?!" Tino spluttered, recoiling from Denmark's hand. "You never even asked me!"

Denmark raised the hand placatingly. "Hey hey, it's all good Fin, we moved some of your stuff today to make space. Found your stack of porn under the bedside table. Kinky stuff." He winked.

Tino turned red. "Huh… that's not…" He looked straight at Berwald, eyes wide and panicked and… violet. Violet eyed Tino. "I don't have…"

"Haha, just kidding, this kid's innocent as they come, I swear." Denmark dropped back to his feet and charged, face suddenly inches from Berwald's own. Berwald did not blink. "Which is why you're NOT staying in his room. Well, not exactly. We've rigged you up a little alcove upstairs. I'm sure you'll be completely comfortable."

Berwald contemplated the situation. There were guys passed out on the couch, a psychopath reading existential philosophy in the dining room, and this 'Denmark' was quite possibly certifiably insane. Then Berwald looked at shy, badly dressed, violet eyed Tino, and he could only nod. He wasn't going anywhere. "Sounds good t'me."

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[drowning-in-dennor]

Festivity

Yeah, this is pretty much the same thing as Celebration but at the same time is kind of a sequel to it? Basically, it kind of sucks but read it for Denmark’s birthday, I guess.

 For as long as he can remember, Denmark’s been told that all the stupid things he does will come back one day to bite him.

 And he, with his thousand years of existence, has never felt that more than when his phone rings right next to his ear on the bedside table. At midnight. And he knocks his still-ringing phone off the bedside table, rolling to the ground to grope blindly for it a few seconds later.

 As Sweden and Norway have said so many times before, it’s a miracle he’s still functioning.

 He presses “accept” on the call and is instantly greeted with Norway’s voice.

 “Happy birthday, Denmark.”

 “Is… is this revenge for me calling you?” He asks, yawning.

 “What do you think? Would I randomly call you at midnight otherwise?”

 “How are you still awake?”

 “Coffee and motivation.”

 Blearily climbing back in bed, Denmark reminds himself to never piss Norway off again. “I…” he yawns again. “Thanks for calling. I’m going back to sleep now.”

 Then he throws his phone on his bedside table, burrows under his blankets and shuts his eyes.

…

 He’s woken up again at ten in the morning, this time to Sweden’s call. With life decisions to reconsider and regretting not setting his phone to silent the first time a call woke him up, he answers the call.

 “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

 Fwump.

 And falls off the bed again.

 “Dad, I think we killed Denmark.”

 “No,” he says, voice slurred with sleep. “I’m alive. I just fell off the bed.”

 “You were sleeping?” Ladonia asks. “But it’s ten o’clock!”

 “In the morning!” Sealand adds.

 He answers with a yawn. Might as well get out of bed now. “Well, I’m awake now. Can I talk to one of your dads?”

 “DAD!”

 Denmark drops his phone.

 When he picks it up again, Sweden’s talking on the other side, thankfully much quieter than his sons. “... coming over soon.”

 “What?”

 “We’re coming over soon,” Sweden repeats. “Leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes.”

 “With Fin and the kids?” Denmark asks, getting to his feet.

 “Mmhmm.”

 “I’ll make lunch, okay?” He fishes for clothes in his closet, pulling out a button-down shirt. “See you.” Hanging up, Denmark heads for the shower, clothes in hand.

...

 When he walks into the dining room, towel slung over his shoulders, Denmark almost trips over his feet when he sees Norway sitting at the table, sipping his coffee from one of his mugs.

 And wearing that one red shirt he knows drives him crazy.

 He doesn’t know if he should regret giving Norway keys to his house.

 “Morning.”

 Denmark’s frozen in place and processing the fact that Norway is sitting at his dining table, in his house, in clothes of his flag colour and looking really, really hot, and trying to remember how to breathe properly.

 And because he’s as socially inept as a two-year-old, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “The hell are you doing here?”

 Norway gets up from the table with a small smile, tilting his head and showing off those amazing blue eyes that sparkle in the sunlight and making Denmark forget how to breathe. “I can leave if I’m disturbing you.”

 “No, no!” He blurts, face burning. “Uh… wow. I didn’t expect you to get here until the afternoon.”

 “Well, I decided to surprise you. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

 “You look nice.” Great job, Danmark, talking out of your ass at the only one you’ve ever loved. “Amazing, actually. You look amazing, Norway.”

 He reaches Denmark, reaching up on tiptoes to grab him by the collar and pull him into a kiss, and that’s when Denmark’s brain stops functioning.

 When Norway pulls away from him, he knows he probably looks like a fish out of water, and he wonders why he’s acting so awkward and weird today.

 “Have you had breakfast yet?” Denmark asks, surprised that he can still form full sentences. “I can cook us something if you haven’t.”

 Face flushed from the kiss, Norway returns to his seat. “I had breakfast before I left Oslo, so I’m fine. How about you?”

 “Sve and Fin are coming over with the kids for lunch, so I’ll make some stuff, I guess.” Bouncing for the kitchen and earning a chuckle from Norway, Denmark reaches for a cookbook. “I’m thinking something simple. How does hønsekødssuppe sound?”

 Norway joins him at the kitchen counter, peering over his shoulder at the recipe. “No idea what that is, but I’ll help you make it. Now,” he leans closer and pokes Denmark on the cheek. “What do we need?”

…

 The dumplings are boiling away in chicken broth when the doorbell rings and Denmark runs to get it. Standing in the doorway, holding a small parcel, is Iceland. “Hi.”

 “Ice!” He squeezes him in a hug, making him drop the parcel on the floor with a clunk.

 Iceland frees himself with a kick to the shin and picks the parcel up. “You’re even older now, so we’re going to have to celebrate.” He hands Denmark the package with a smirk. “Here’s your present for getting old.”

 “Don’t be rude, Ice,” Norway calls from the kitchen.

 “You’re old, too,” Iceland hollers back.

 Denmark peels the tape off the parcel and finds himself looking at a stack of parchment bound together by twine. The edges are torn and every piece of parchment is wrinkled, yellow with age and packed with the dark-blue, ink-splotched handwriting of Iceland.

 He takes the first piece of parchment and starts to read.

~

14th May, 1814

Dear Denmark,

 I heard you and Sweden arguing today, in the castle. I know Brother locked me in my room before the fighting started, but you two were yelling so loud that I could hear it all the way from where I was. You sounded like you were in pain, so I want to make sure you’re okay.

 Why was Brother involved? I heard you say, “Don’t take him, don’t take Norway from me” after you and Sweden were done fighting, like Sweden was going to take Brother away. He won’t do that, right? He has Finland, and I know he won’t trade him for anything or anyone.

 But I know that everything’s going to be fine, because you two have fought so many times. When you’re done, I’ll rip this up and go help in the kitchen. Then, the three of us will have dinner like always.

From Iceland

~

15th May, 1814

Dear Denmark,

 I couldn’t sleep last night. I had dinner with Greenland and Faroes, but they were so quiet I felt like I was on my own. Everything was so, so quiet, and your shouting match with Sweden started replaying in my head. You were crying yourself to sleep, I could hear, but you locked your door so I couldn’t come in.

 Sweden did take Brother away, didn’t he? That’s why you told me he wouldn’t be coming back. But I’m sure he’ll be back, because you’ll fight Sweden again and take him back. You love Brother, so that’s what you’ll do to show that you love him. I’m sure of it.

 Please come out of your room — it’s getting awfully lonely by myself.

From Iceland

~

16th May, 1814

Dear Denmark,

 I’m sorry for making you mad. I shouldn’t have picked the lock to your room, and I should’ve known you needed some time alone. And please don’t blame Faroes for teaching me how to pick locks, I’m the one who trespassed.

 I told Chef to make your favourite foods and bring them up to you this evening, so maybe they’ll make you feel better. Good food means a good mood, after all.

 And even though everyone else disagrees, I really miss you. I miss you telling stories and riding horses with me and teaming up to prank Brother. Brother’s not here any more, but for one day, could we maybe spend some time together?

From Iceland

 “I wrote these letters for a year after Nor left,” Iceland mumbles. “I wanted to slide them under your door… but I decided not to. Thought you should read them now.”

 Tearing up, Denmark hugs Iceland again. “You’re the best little brother a guy could ever ask for!”

 “We’re not even related!”

 Emerging from the kitchen, Norway raises his phone and snaps a photo of the two of them with a smile. “Your boss texted you, by the way,” he tells Denmark. “He wants to know if your speech is ready.”

 “What speech?”

…

 When Sweden, Finland, Sealand and Ladonia show up, they find Denmark and Norway sitting at the dining table, hunched over a stack of cue cards. Denmark’s holding a spoon in one hand and a pen in another, while Iceland is watching the two of them in faint amusement.

 “Happy birthday, Den!”

 Finland is met with silence.

 Iceland looks up from his bowl, idly stirring his soup. “Denmark forgot he has to deliver a speech in an hour.”

 “That happened last year, too,” Ladonia pipes up.

 “Well, they made lunch,” Iceland gestures to the pot sitting in the middle of the dining table. “So help yourselves, I guess.”

 Sweden sighs and walks to sit next to Norway, peering at the cards. “Need help?”

…

 Denmark reaches for another brunsviger and sighs in relief. “Thank goodness I pulled that speech off.”

 Sweden raises an eyebrow at his brother, passing the plate of buns to Sealand. “You’re welcome.”

 “Consider that my present for you this year,” Norway adds. Denmark sputters in disbelief and is met with a smile. “I’m just kidding, silly. You’ll get your present later.”

 “You better be talking about a nice book, or I’m out of this house the moment you two go to Den’s room,” Iceland warns. “Or maybe I should somehow get Mr. Puffin all the way from Reykjavik and sic him on you.”

 “What are they doing to do?” Sealand asks, mouth full of bread.

 “They’re going to read stories and chat together, Peter,” Finland says, shooting Denmark and Norway a dirty look. “Isn’t that right?”

 Iceland chokes on his brunsviger in laughter.

 The evening fades to night, and soon Norway and Iceland are the only ones left in the house. Iceland retires to the guest room at eleven, grabbing his bag and marching up the stairs. “If I hear anything strange at night, I’ll break into your room.”

 Denmark and Norway walk into the bedroom an hour later, sliding into bed together. Norway wastes no time in inching closer to Denmark, resting his head against his steady heartbeat and wrapping arms around his neck. “Time flies, doesn’t it?”

 He kisses Norway’s forehead. “Seems like just yesterday when Iceland was little and we lived in the castle.”

 Norway laughs, nuzzling into Denmark’s neck. “Iceland’s still our little brother, and our houses are pretty much castles anyways.”

 “So not much has changed.”

 They hold each other as sleep covers both like a blanket, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

 No, not at all.

[phyripowritesthings]

eey @rukkilill this is your @hwdevents Secret Spectres gift! as soon as the letters ‘SSSS’ caught my eye, I knew what prompt I’d be using, because... I love SSSS. I hope you like it! :D

of silence

characters/pairings: Estonia/Finland (could be read as platonic or romantic; not the focus)

word count: 1242 summary: This can’t be how it ends, Estonia thinks. After everything his people have been through, a stupid illness can’t be the end of them. And yet, he’s helpless against it.

warning: mentions of death and illness,, and badly described body horror

It’s the sixth day of what will later be called year 0 when Estonia sees Finland off on one of the last flights to leave Tallinn, hugging him hard in the hall of the nearly abandoned airport. Every tourist has been sent home, wherever possible, with several countries having closed their borders. Both Finland’s and Estonia’s governments have plans in that direction, although they’re waiting to see what Sweden and Russia will do.

It has been chaos, these past days. Not just in their corner of Europe, but all over the world, people are getting ill.

They’ve both been through pandemics, but it seems worse now that the lines of communication are so short. Spain sends updates on the original eleven patients, who are in his country, daily. They’re not bettering.

“Take care of your people, Est,” Finland tells him, fitting his hands around his jaw in that way he does. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” he replies. And, putting his own cold hands over Finland’s, “I love you.”

“Never doubted it.” He smiles. “I love you too.”

There’s no see you soon, Estonia realizes later, as if they both knew that they wouldn’t see each other for years to come, that the small stretch of sea between them would become an insurmountable barrier.

It’s late autumn, and when Estonia gets home after eating in Tallinn’s Old City—his people are resilient and refuse to close their shops and restaurants yet, even with the tourists gone—his phone vibrates with a message from Finland, telling him he got home safely and that he lost his dog in his snowy backyard. Estonia grins. He always manages to lose the fluffy white thing the second any snow hits the ground. She always turns up fine.

He sends a message back, and then one to his boss, asking for information on how many people are sick in his country now. It’s not enough that he can feel it, not yet. If this gets bad enough, he knows that he’ll start experiencing some symptoms of what they’re calling the Rash. Luckily, they don’t seem too bad. Nausea, vomiting. That rash, of course.

No one has died, and he prays it stays that way.

A wave of shock rolls across the world the next day, so palpable Estonia can feel it before he hears the news.

The Rash is deadly.

His government snaps into crisis mode. There’s talk about closing the borders immediately, about quarantining patients. Estonia still can’t feel them, but he guesses it won’t be long.

Latvia calls, sounding remarkably calm. His situation is much the same.

The second he hangs up, there’s a call from Finland.

“Hey, Fin—”

“Spain says they’re hiding something,” Finland bursts out. He’s never been patient. It makes Estonia smile, although the message worries him. The original patients, six now, are in Spain. If anyone would know, it’s him.

“Something like…”

Finland sighs, quiet for a moment. There’s chattering in the background. He must be dealing with his government too.

“Not sure. He seems distressed. Only used one exclamation point.”

That is severe, for Spain. For something to faze him at his age, it must be bad. Estonia takes his glasses off, rubs a hand over his eyes.

They’re both silent for a while, listening to the other’s background noises, his breathing. Neither of them is good with words, but they’ve learned to read each other in different ways.

Someone calls for Estonia.

“I have to go, Fin.”

“Yes, me too. I’ll let you know if I hear from Spain.”

“Thank you. Take care.”

“You too.”

The days pass silently. Literally, in many ways, as the citizens of Tallinn, of the rest of Estonia, finally cave and close up shop, relocate to family in the countryside, to one of the many islands. They’ve started quarantining newcomers there. Estonia hates it, but understands it’s for the best.

Updates from the rest of the world are becoming increasingly scarce. Journalists are staying home, by choice or necessity. The government members have scattered across the country. Only a handful remain in Tallinn.

Finland hasn’t found his dog.

They still speak every day, but the conversations are short.

“How many?” Estonia will ask, and Finland will tell him how many of his people are sick, that no one has died.

The day of the first confirmed Finnish death is the day Estonia discovers what Spain said the doctors were hiding. He thinks he knew, in hindsight. The harmony of his people, always at the back of his mind, has become discordant, and he wakes up short of breath on the seventeenth day.

He didn’t dream, certainly not the terrifying dreams Norway and Iceland report having.

It’s worse than that, because the Nordic brothers see things in their sleep, animals and people ripped apart by the Rash, the illness infecting their minds and tearing their sanity to shreds along with their bodies, until nothing remains of them but empty, monstrous shells.

It’s worse, because Estonia knows then, they’re not dreams.

He’s faced many horrors in his life, too many to count, and always emerged stronger. But he’s never looked at a thing carrying only the suggestion that it is—was?—human, with hollow eye sockets and torn flesh, and heard it plead for help with a voice piercing through his skull, like a shout rising above the harmony.

He can feel it’s one of his people. She’s one of his people. Or was. He stares at her. She stares back.

One of her arms is bent backwards unnaturally. She’s still using it. There are protrusions under her rash-torn skin that he fears could grow into something horrible.

“Hᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ,” the once-human horror rasps. Her torn vocal chords shouldn’t be working. Nothing about her should.

“How?” Estonia asks. “How can I help you?”

“Iᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛs.”

He clenches his eyes shut.

This can’t be it. After everything his people have been through, this can’t be how it ends. They don’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I’m so sorry.”

Villages go quiet as winter sets in, while spring arrives. Estonia doesn’t feel sick, but almost wishes he did, as he knows he doesn’t because everyone who gets the Rash is lost to him, whether to death or something worse.

Finland radioes now, because Helsinki’s been evacuated, and he’s out on the lakes, where reception is bad.

The world is in disarray.

Estonia has eaten practically nothing for days to leave more for his people, when his boss finally decides to leave the mainland, effectively condemning it. Estonia knows there are people left out there, but also knows he can’t protect them alone, and can’t ask the weakened ones left here to risk their lives.

They all know who he is, what he is, now. He needs them together, because even if they’re all that remains, they are Estonia, more than he is.

He radioes Finland a last time before he leaves for the islands.

“It’s the end,” he says. Finland crackles an exhausted laugh. It’s been a long few months, and the ones ahead look longer yet.

“We’ll meet again, Est. In a year, or a century. I promise. Our people will get through this too.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

He prays, on the cold coast, in the old, pagan way he remembers, for the first time in centuries. It seems fitting.

The world is silent beyond the islands.

[metalalia]

Mythological Throwback Thursday: Selkies

It’s National Selkie Day! Well, Selfie Day. But it’s also Mythological Throwback Thursday, so it’s as good a day as any to find out more about this peculiar Celtic myth!

Selkies are a feature of Scottish folklore, strange beings that change shape between humans and seals. Their name means ‘grey seal’. There is a lot of overlap between selkies and merfolk, with some records conflating the two, particularly those in broader Norse traditions. However, selkies have some interesting quirks to their lore that merfolk lack.

Most selkie tales are collected from the Shetland and Orkney Isles, off the northern coast of Scotland. The typical tale would feature a naked woman, because every story needs a hook. An intrepid island man would find the selkie and take her in, also taking the empty sealskin that she needed to change back into her seal form. Generally the selkie would live with the thief and give him children, until the day she discovers her skin (or occasionally, one of her children would). The selkie would then immediately abandon her family and return to the sea. Selkie-human children looked like humans but were said to occasionally have webbed hands, slightly resembling seal fins. There are also stories of male selkies seducing human women. They are invariably excellent at wooing bored fishermen’s wives, and providing them with many children.

Stories of shapeshifting seals are known around the world, though it is unlikely that all were influenced by the Scottish myth. There are analogous tales in the Faroe Islands, Iceland, Norway and Sweden, which possibly came from the same source or were influenced by tales passed along trade routes. There are Irish tales which blur the line between selkies and merfolk. The Chinook people also have a story of a boy who could shapeshift into a seal, though this tale is probably too geographically remote to be related.

After Christianity took root in Scotland, one explanation for selkies that circulated is that they were damned souls caught in a kind of purgatory-- suspended between two worlds, they could only assume human form once every seven years, and would dance for the joy of having legs again upon the shore, before returning to the sea.

One theory for the origin of the myth is related to the fashion for Finnish and Sami women, who in the time when Scotland was first being colonised, often wore sealskins for warmth. The early Scottish settlers likely came to intermarry with these visitors, and think of them as seal-women.

These days, selkies are not often used in popular culture. There have been a few adaptations of folk tales, but they largely keep a low profile. Bizarrely, one of the most prominent modern selkie characters shows up in the anime My Hero Academia. Selkie is a human with the appearance and powers of a seal, being an adept swimmer with great lung capacity. While he doesn’t show a male selkie’s seductive prowess, he does enjoy being cute. Or trying, at least.

...Yeah, that’s a good point to end it on this week. Join us again soon for more mythology, legends and folklore!

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 13 September 1839

3 40/..

10

ten minutes with A- very fine sunny morning – F64° at 4 20/.. – waited for horses – inked over 2/3 last page off at 5 35/.. sun rising in our eyes as we get out of the city – at Henrisdals at 6 51/.. little lone place – see no house at all – nothing but little stabling – nice drive from Helsingfors – we had fjord a long way – but very little wood – met an infinity of carts loaden with deals, timber long but the largest smallish beans, hay, moss and Spruce branches for strewing the floors – the approach to the capital prettier from Henrisdals then from Grahn? at Sibbo [Sipoo] – small house no fire in the kitchen or should have had boiled milk – went in – a goodish room but not good to sleep at – the little unpainted village at a little distance a few little cottages clustered together  - pretty good road from Helsingfors – 2nd stage sandy – this 3rd stage forest and good road (no bad pitches since Helsingfors) – to Wackosky at 9 26/.. Breakfast on our bread and butter but large [?] of boiled milk and clean table cloth for 25 kopeks –

Till Borga [Borgå] 12 ½

St. P- 369 ½

September Friday 13 one night sleep well enough – lone house – a farm or 2 and its appurtenances scattered about at a little distance – pretty river winding along the valley from here – pretty foresty rather more hilly road – a little pitch or 2 – good road  pretty drive to Borga [Borgå] to the picturesque goodish wood town beautifully situated on our river from Wäckosky – Borgå at 11 23/.. good red (wood) town house in little square – very tolerable pavé – as good as at Stockholm without the deep channels – at the station in the town at 11 27/.. considerable town – Baggar( not importunate old man) at the carriage door

till Illby 10w.

St. P- 357w.

1st time in Finland and almost since landing at Helsingborg – good church – belfrey town separate – both partly stone plastered and whitewashed and pretty red wood – and booth partly covered with shingle and partly with copper – rocky-foresty good (rather sandy) road from here – prevailing colours at Borgå red and yellow roofs red or dark slate-colour – did not observe one green roof – Senate house at Helsingfors uellow and pea green roof and several other such roofs, on yellowish white and dark red buildings – perhaps the ancient green sod roofs gave them a taste for green roofs – In returning from Sweaborg, the rye rested agreeably on the green roofs – they seemed like patches of light green sward among the Glacier white – this effect, too, on looking on them from our high window – the cupola of the church dome is dark blue with gold stars – the church a yellowish whitewash over the plaster –

= very pretty forest and break from Bordå [Borgå]– sunny and fine – red moss – a woman riding astride between W- and Bordå [Borgå ]passed so[me] soldiers (a company) and by these waggons just out of Bordå [Borgå] at 12 25/.. Illby – rye out in stook – red station

Borgå stad 10

Hofvardböhle 11 ¼ verst

Forsby 13 verst

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0034

September Friday 13 the country about Illby very pretty – dotted over with cottages or barns – Illby little red lone station house – the little unpainted village at a little distance – 11 or 12 carts here in a row without horses as if some sort of meeting? pretty rounded hills, green nice grass or corn ½ way up the hill and the top wooded – a boy or 2 begged and a man but all looking decent considering the country and not very importunate – our young man this time a good looking Fin   1 5/.. just in the carriage again – detained 10 minutes + the horses restive up the hill – obliged to get out again at another steep pitch a few minutes afterwards – very nice farming this stage and small enclosures – saw a strawberry plant in flower and gathered a cranberry in flower very pretty little pink flower everywhere potato stalks hung to dry on 4 or 5 tiers of rails – cottages and barns doted singly and in patches all over now at 1 50/.. lake in sight in the distance before us – then obliged to get out for a few minutes till 2 5/.. – snow plough the 2nd I have observed in Finland now at 2 10/.. – cross wood bridge over broad shallow stream into the good little very picturesque village of Forsby the little red station standing at the bottom of the hill and end of the village just below the neat little (wood) red church – very pretty picturesque drive from Illby here hilly – rocky – foresty – well cultivated fields – farms and cottages – good road but pitchy – forest hilly and heavy sandy road to Perny  [Pernå] at 3 20/.. very neat red station house and its numerous appurtenances and good picturesque white-washed church close by and curious picturesque belfrey at some distance from the church on the opposite side of the road – fine large beautifully beautifully wooded lake stretching as far as can see (right) a few good cottages and farm houses, scattered at a little distance – very pretty and picturesque – mossy rock forest again soon after the village – and our horses stop a little at the steep pitch soon after starting

till Lovisa [Loviisa] 12 verst [werst]

verst and virst and werst

Perno [Pernå] on the road post

Pärno [Pernå]  on the sign post

September Friday 13 at 4 16/..  3 story high large whitewashed gentleman’s house (right) little distance – forest and sandyish road almost all the way – this time Handbook is right as to the road – we have wound our way amid rocks and big boulders – at Lovisa [Loviisa] at the station at 4 40/.. – meant to have slept here but think we can push on 16 versts more to Aberfors [Aborrfors] – Lovisa [Loviisa] large good picturesque town – larger and much better than Borgå – our passport must be visé by the Burgomaster – send it by the station man and Gross with him – and we wrote dans ces entrefaites in the carriage close to the large good board-covered church with white window frames and red-boarded roof – the stone-foundation part of church plastered and whitewashed – at a little distance the belfrey – painted grey-white with bright green cupola roof – the town beautifully situated on the fine lake – island and buildings seen upon it as we cross the bridge out of the town no green roofs but sod-green – very picturesque and bright ([real] sods) in a low street we peeped down – heard of many cows chiefly red just out of the town – young forest again thin shewing the large boulders that thickly cover the ground all but the bits cleared for corn and cultivation – everywhere chiefly Scotch fir – and occasionally birch and alder beautiful evening – good road – no detention about the passport save the time occupied in taking it to the burgomaster off at 5 – lovely evening – but it begins to be coldish late – early in the day – 5 40/.. enormous boulders – this by far our most interesting stage for rock and boulder – the last interesting in this respect but near so much so as this stage – all Scotch fir and birch – good for burning several cottages – huts – no chimneys – the doorways black with smoke – no large trees anywhere – trying today my Russian [letters?]

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0035

September 13 can do nothing without a master – all this stage forest and pretty breaks with green rye and rye in stook – and huts (unpainted) and green corn and grass pasture among the boulders – very picturesque and now at 5 50/.. one large good brick barn I think the 1st and only one I have seen in Finland? Little enclosures – fenced as in Sweden – another Snow plough – juniper and cranberry here in the woods as in Sweden and N-

Lovisa [Loviisa] pronounced almost Louisa – odd we could not get turnips in Sweden but got them good at Helsingfors without asking for – at 6 10/.. a few spruces and a very few of them goodish trees – at 6 20/.. little picturesque unpainted hamlet and the fjord among the wood – all the waters of todays inlets of the sea – at 6 27/.. cross wood bridge over water ascend and at the station at 6 28/.. single house

on this side the bridge begins Wiborg [Vyborg] land and here 161 versts from Wiburg [Vyborg]   Good warm room – the forest, rock, water-bridge – pretty scene – but we have seen many places as pretty – ‘the red cottages of the Fins’ that Handbook speaks of p. 137. [Manquerst] – we left the little unpainted hamlet 7 minutes from here; and as for its position being ‘one of the most picturesque’ Handbook had even seen, one can only think he has not been much favoured in the picturesque positions of his villages –

Aborrfors                      Helsingfors 120 ½ w.

Lovisa [Loviisa]              Wiborg [Vyborg] 161

Broby 16.                         St. P- 297 ½

A-     and I sauntered out till 7 ¼ and she sketched the house – went down to the water and bridge again – very pretty – 2 or 3 unpainted cottages or barn most represent the red cottages – one of the without chimney door and window – way smoked buildings which I have noticed often a little way from our station – went into

September Friday 13 – [?] oven to roast ore – had John it is a Finnish vapour bath! dinner now at 7 ¾ to 8 ½ the Fins do not bathe in water – but in vapour – a little like the Russian vapour bath? – very fine day – F62° at 8 ½ pm

[anime-dub-transcripts]

Hetalia: The World Twinkle Episode #4: The Nordic Five +α Transcript

This episode has a Nordic meeting.

Finland [talking to the audience]: Moi!

(Moi!: Hi! → Finnish)

Finland [talking to the audience]: I’m Finland, one of the Nordic States. Yes, I know, I speak a different language, but let’s focus on the meeting!

{Caption: Bounce!! Bounce!!}

Denmark: Fin! My man! I got you a seat next to me!

Finland [talking to the audience]: That guy, in the invisible bounce house, is Mr. Denmark!

(Denmark: Fin! Fin! Fin! Fin! Fin!)

{Caption #1: Sneak, sneak}

Finland [talking to the audience]: And I think that one is, uh…

{Text in speech bubble: Don’t}

Iceland: Don’t.

Finland [talking to the audience]: Iceland. Definitely Iceland.

{Text in speech bubble #2: I don’t like it}

{Text in speech bubble #3: I’ll pass}

Iceland: I don’t like it; I’ll pass.

{Caption: Grumble, grumble, grumble, grumble…}

Finland [talking to the audience]: Oh, and that big, poop your pants scary person is Sweden. But you can call him “Mr. Sweden”.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finland: Hetalia!

Finland [talking to the audience]: Yes, we Nordic countries have very different personalities…

Denmark: Haha!

Finland [talking to the audience]: …but we mostly like the same things and help each other when we can.

(Ghost: Ooooohhhh! Oooooohhhh!)

Finland [talking to the audience]: The fact is, we all get along pretty well.

Estonia: Let’s do clique, okay?

Hungary: Clique; sure thing!

Finland [talking to the audience]: All the Nordics speak Northern Germanic languages except me. My language is Finno-Ugric, so I don’t sound as aggressive.

{Text in speech bubble #1: God dag}

{Text in speech bubble #2: Hello}

{Text in speech bubble #3: Hyvää päivää}

{Text in speech bubble #4: Hello}

Denmark: God dag! God dag!

(Sweden: God dag)

(Norway: God dag)

(Iceland: Góðan dag)

Finland: Oh, hyvää päivää!

(God dag!: Good day! → Danish, Swedish, Norwegian)

(Góðan dag: Good day → Icelandic)

(Hyvää päivää!: Good day! → Finnish)

Finland [talking to the audience]: Sometimes I sound like I’m an alien or one of Nor’s trolls. Also, I don’t know if this friend of mine gets my otherworld situation here, but he’s obsessed with joining the Nordic States.

Estonia: It’ll be fun to have another Finno-Ugric language speaking character in the Nordic States!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finland, Sweden: Hetalia!

Finland [talking to the audience]: Now, scary Sweden---I mean, Mr. Sweden and myself have known each other for a long time. He’s actually a big teddy bear.

(Sweden: Grr…)

Finland [talking to the audience]: You know, he’s helped me out quite a bit. He’s a very good person, even if he does have a face that’ll make you want to poop yourself!

(Sweden: Grr…)

Sweden: Huah…

Finland [talking to the audience]: Eeeeaaahhh! Remember, do not let the way he looks at you affect your bowels.

(Sweden: Grr…)

{Caption: Grumble, grumble, grumble…}

Finland [talking to the audience]: It’s not you; he’s just standing watch over the Baltic Sea!

(Sweden: Grr…)

{Caption: Waah}

Boy: Mommy, that man is freaking me out and now I have to go potty!

{Caption: Ugh!}

Woman: Huah!

Finland: No! Don’t be afraid, he’s not mad at you! Unless you don’t recycle, that is.

(Boy: Waaaahhhhh!)

{Caption: Shocked!!}

Sweden: Hm?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finland, Sweden, Denmark: Hetalia!

Finland [talking to the audience]: This is Mr. Denmark.

Denmark: Hm?

Finland [talking to the audience]: Among the Nordic States, he---

Denmark: Fin! You shut your little whore mouth! I got this, I can explain who I am!

Finland: Oh, well, have at it!

Denmark [talking to the audience]: During medieval times, I traveled the world by oceans and returned with all kinds of souvenirs from where I went.

{Caption: For illustrative purposes only}

Denmark [talking to the audience]: No lie, lots of stuff I brought back with me took root! It was nuts! I fought Sweden a lot; like, a lot, a lot. But now, we are the bestest of buddies!

Norway: He is cool!

{Caption #1: Cool!!}

Iceland: And handsome!

{Caption #2: Good-looking!!}

Denmark [talking to the audience]: Word on the street these days is that I’m not only cool and unbelievably good-looking, I’m also the current leader of the Nordic countries plus a brilliant diplomat! Not to toot my own horn, but Germany is desperate to work with me too!

Denmark: Right?

{Caption: Ah-choo (in a monotone)}

Norway: Ahchoo.

Sweden: Hm.

Finland: Eummm…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway: Hetalia!

Finland [talking to the audience]: This is Mr. Norway. He has friends that are fairies! I bet that’s why he always seems so mysterious!

Norway: Eum, hold please. There is a troll calling for me.

Finland [talking to the audience]: Mr. Norway sometimes talks like this to his mystical friends who are called trolls.

(Troll: Trooooollllllll…)

Finland [talking to the audience]: We don’t know what they look like ‘cause we can’t see them!

Norway: Oh, I know what you should do. Give him a good boom, and then a good bam.

{Caption: Grab}

Finland [talking to the audience]: See, I told you he was mysterious.

Norway: Anywho. Hm. Since we’re having a meeting, I’ll turn this thing off.

{Caption: Beep}

Finland: Hold on, you mean that hairpin is actually a troll phone?!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Iceland: Hetalia!

Finland [talking to the audience]: This boy is Iceland!

Iceland: So I’m the last one? Of course you are; don’t be so surprised.

Finland: Sorry! No offense was intended!

Iceland: Yeah, it’s nothing to apologize for, I realize I’m last and that’s okay.

{Caption: Quietly}

Iceland [talking to the audience]: I’m the youngest of the Nordic countries, as well as being the farthest away.

{Caption: Here}

Iceland [talking to the audience]: Travel agencies prefer to avoid me, but I have a really weird museum.

Denmark: Poke! We just saved the best for last!

Iceland: Stop it!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia: Hetalia!

Estonia: Aah, I wanna join the Nordic States! Please, you got to help me and act as mediator!

Finland: So you really want to join us that badly?

Estonia: Yeah. Like big time bad. You guys would be so much more fun than---uaoh!

{Caption #1: Latvia}

{Caption #2: Lithuania}

Lithuania: More fun than who, exactly? Continue; don’t leave out any details.

Latvia: If you go, we won’t be three Baltic States anymore, and you don’t want that, do you?

(Estonia: Ehh…)

Estonia: Course not. But even if I did leave, you two would be fine as a duo, maybe even better off? Hm, two Baltic States has nice ring to it.

Finland: TWO BALTIC STATES?! YOU’RE NOT HEARING A RING, YOU’RE HEARING A DISASTER!

[jurikatou]

Sufin week - day 4

So I actually chose the time prompt. 1960s. It’s a very short piece.

Kari stared at the ceiling, watching time pass as he waited for sunrise, having long ago given up on sleeping. He wasn’t taken by anxiety, far from that; instead, it was as if he was so lethargic even falling asleep felt like too much work.

His mind wasn’t filled with worries – not, at least, that he could notice. He’d found a decent place to stay and a job quite easily, all things considered – something he couldn’t find back home. In all honesty, his life was technically at an all-time high.

Then why did it feel so... So empty?

Honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to care about this emptiness. He couldn’t bring himself to attempt to fill it, rather he just... Stared at his own emptiness every time he looked in the mirror.

It was still very unpleasant, so he’d stopped looking at the mirror quite a long time ago.

He remembered once one of his drinking buddies had mentioned he was “cute”. He probably didn’t think so anymore. Not that he’d outgrown his cuteness to become handsome – he just plain and simple had lost his charm. The man still drank with him, took smoke breaks with him, sometimes even got wasted enough to do stupid shit with him, yet Kari couldn’t bring himself to think – that must be only because he had no one else.

He would easily have given up on himself if only he had better company, he thought.

Did this drinking buddy – what was his name again – also feel like this? Did he find solace in Kari’s company or was he just running away from his own loneliness as well? Did he think Kari was just with him for the lack of a better company?

He didn’t know. And wouldn’t ask.

He had a full day of work ahead and no mental availability to bond emotionally. Even if he did wish for it, in a way or another.

---

So, this is very very veeeery Fin-centric, Sve is basically just how he expresses his own loneliness and insecurities, but shhhh.

Also, I know it’s literally impossible to tell just from reading, but I pictured him as a Finnish migrant, one of those who went to Sweden to try and escape unemployment as Sweden’s economy started looking upwards much sooner in the early second half of the 20th century.