#and then her; my sister and me travelled to sweden (again for me!) to bring her back home and to give my sister her first travel with plane

[tchaikovskym]

My 2023 was wild, not in a way that anyone would use the term "wild" except me

[hxneyhxrts]

Switzerland || James “Bucky” Barnes

warning: smut, unprotected sex, impact play (rough), explicit language, degradation, maybe dacryphilia

“Give me a fucking break, Y/N,” Bucky groaned.

Two hours.

They had been bickering for two hours.

It had started with a mission. A quick rendezvous for some data Sam had requested from a sister agency overseas. Y/N had figured it might be nice to get out and travel a bit.

Wrong.

“Give you a break? James, we are in Sweden! Sweden. The rendezvous was supposed to be in Switzerland. I mean, you have to understand why this is frustrating!”

“I messed up! Would you relax?”

Bucky slid the keycard into their hotel door, shouldering his way in. It was a last minute booking, since they hadn’t meant to be here in the first place. Thanks to James.

Bucky cursed under his breath, and Y/N peeked over his shoulder to see what was wrong.

Sick.

“Oh great. You booked a room with one bed. Awesome,” Y/N snarked. She shook her head in disappointment. “You know, I should’ve probably taken over booking and planning when you landed us in the wrong fucking country, but it seems I haven’t learned my lesson yet.”

“Would you just fucking drop it? I said I was sorry!” Bucky bit out.

Y/N scowled. “Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that we’re in fucking Sweden, James. Someone has to explain this to-”

“Stop calling me that.”

She paused mid-sentence. “Calling you what?”

Bucky heaved a sigh. “James. You can be mad at me, but please just… stop calling me that. You never call me that.”

All the fight left her then. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment of quiet to calm down.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Don’t wait up.”

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

The hot water did little to relax Y/N’s nerves, but she was clean. And if she took an extra 15 minutes to just stand there and enjoy the quiet, well that was her business.

But she couldn’t stay there forever. She knew a fight sat unfinished on the other side of the door, and the longer she stayed in the quiet of the bathroom, the longer she pushed off a resolution.

So with a sigh, she pushed back the shower curtain and fumbled for her towel. She spent much longer than necessary drying off, avoiding the inevitable while she could.

Once her skin was thoroughly dry (and beginning to pink in the spots she had rubbed too much), she gave in to the gnawing in her stomach. She reached for her pajamas with a sigh, mentally going over how to diffuse the fight that waited for her.

Her hand met the empty countertop.

Y/N’s brows furrowed. She spun around, surveying the bathroom for her clothes.

Nothing.

Because this was supposed to be a day trip.

You don’t pack pajamas for a day trip.

Y/N wanted to scream. Because of course this would be happening. Her shit show day had reached its dirty grimy claws into the evening.

Her annoyance reared its head again, and she had to keep herself from storming out and shouting at Bucky once more for getting them in this predicament.

But she bit her tongue, and cracked the door just a sliver. “Bucky?”

Shuffling. Then, “Yeah?”

Her cheeks were already burning from embarrassment. “I didn’t bring pajamas. Do you mind calling down to the front desk and asking for a robe or something?”

“Y/N, it’s like nine o’clock. The receptionist has probably gone home by now.”

Her irritation flared. “Can you just check? The only other option is putting on the clothes I wore today and they’re filthy.”

She heard an annoyed curse and more movement. Then a metal hand was sliding in the gap in the door, a t-shirt hanging from its fingers.

“Here,” came a grunt through the wood.

A flush crept down Y/N’s chest. “I don’t-”

“Would you stop fucking arguing for once, and just take it?”

“I still don’t have any pants!”

“It’s a long shirt, you won’t need them! Just put it on and fucking relax.”

The sheer command in his voice would have been enough to make her listen, nevermind the fact that Bucky had always had her wrapped around his finger. So with a huff that sounded more pathetic than grumpy, she snatched the shirt and slammed the door.

The shirt was quintessential Bucky. Plain, dark, simple. It hung just past her hips, a bit too short to be considered decent.

“I knew it,” she growled. But there was no use in pouting about it now. It was clean and comfortable (and warm).

It took every ounce of security (and maybe insanity) to open the door and walk out. She refused to look at Bucky, but she could still feel his eyes like a physical weight on her body. After several rather awkward seconds, he cleared his throat.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor. So either you make yourself cozy down there, or we’re splitting the bed.”

Not even two minutes in, and he had found her last nerve. Found it, poked at it, sank his teeth into it, shredded it. “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“Well I guess that settles it.”

What a shit day.

With a pout, Y/N pushed her way under the duvet, taking notice of how small the bed seemed to feel with Bucky in it. Her thigh brushed his and she bit back her gasp.

“Are you wearing pants?”

“No. Neither are you. Leave me alone and go to sleep.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and curled under the blankets. She had almost dozed off when a sharp tug on the covers disrupted her. “Do you mind?”

“You’re hogging all the blankets. Do you mind?” Bucky hissed.

And just to piss him off more, Y/N yanked the blankets enough to leave him exposed to the chill in the air.

“Are you serious? What are you, 5?”

“Do we really want to start talking about ages, you old fuck?”

Bucky groaned and reached for the bedside lamp, bathing the room in darkness. “Fine. Whatever. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The peace in the room settled and remained for maybe five minutes.

Until…

“Would you stop pouting?”

Y/N threw her hands up incredulously. “I’m not pouting!”

“Yes. You are.”

“How would you even know?”

“I can just tell. It’s irritating me. Now stop,” Bucky spat.

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Y/N’s not sure how it happened, or what set it off exactly. But Bucky had gripped the back of her neck and pulled her face to hover above his too quickly for her to prepare, her hands falling to his chest to balance herself. Bucky’s fingers dug into the nape of her neck with a bruising grip, and he soon brought his metal ones up to grab her jaw.

“Enough,” he growled.

With her head caged between his hands, she had no room to move, let alone reply. It wasn’t necessary though, as Bucky pushed through, his tone turning razor sharp.

“Enough with the pouting. Enough with the disobedience. Enough with the smart ass comments. Enough with calling me ‘James’. Enough. I’ve had enough. You can’t seem to help yourself from being a pain in my ass. I’m over it. Everyone else wants to kiss your ass, I’m not gonna do that. I want-”

He stopped. His teeth bared and gritted.

So it came as a shock when his lips crashed into hers with a force so staggering, she would’ve fell back if not for his hands holding her in place.

The kiss was urgent. Desperate. It was teeth, and tongues, and lips, and spit, and lust. Y/N struggled to catch her breath, but feared breaking away to break whatever spell had fallen over them.

“Such a fucking waste,” Bucky groaned. “A mouth like this, and all you do is pout and whine with it.”

The hand on the back of her neck slid up to her hair, and with a yank he had her throat bared where he sat up to meet it. His teeth nipped at her neck, roughly biting at the skin there. Y/N threw her head back in ecstasy, biting back a moan that threatened to slip.

A warm trickle slid down her neck.

Y/N pushed Bucky off by the shoulders, her hands flying to her neck. “Am I-” she stuttered. “Am I bleeding?”

“That should be the least of your worries right now.”

And before she could protest, he had pinned her on her back. “I am going to fuck you hard enough that you feel me every time you sit down. Every time you mouth off. Every time you touch yourself,” he continued, kissing a trail down her stomach. “I am going to ruin you.”

That didn’t sound so terrible.

The moment Bucky put his mouth on her, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. This had to be some sort of punishment. To be laid out in front of someone she despised and fall apart like this. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, small gasps managing to escape.

“You can do better than that,” Bucky urged.

And yes. She could. When his tongue did a particularly sinful circle around her clit, the whine that left her cut through the air loud enough that she briefly thought of whoever might be in the room next door. But when Bucky repeated the action, drawing another series of whimpers from her, she found she didn’t care.

A groan sounded, and the vibrations from it rang through her core. “Just like that,” Bucky gasped.

His mouth returned with a vengeance, licking and sucking at her like a man starved. She couldn’t have held her mewls and whimpers to herself if she tried, embarrassment be damned.

“Please,” she gasped. “I’m gonna-”

“No.”

Bucky pulled back at once, and her core throbbed at the loss of contact. Y/N sat up on her elbows, poised to protest.

“There’s that pout again.”

And yes, she was pouting.

But who could blame her?

“If I see that pout again, I’m knocking it off your fucking face.”

She immediately sobered and set her mouth straight.

Bucky smiled. “Good girl.”

Fuck.

Y/N keened high in her throat, the sound leaving without her intending it to. A flush crept up her cheeks.

Bucky’s grin looked like it might split his cheeks.

“Oh?” he teased. “Did you like that?”

His hands snaked up her waist, pushing his shirt higher on her torso, inches of skin creeping out bit by bit. His fingers, both flesh and metal burned her skin as they trailed up her sides. She gasped as his hands finally cupped her breasts.

“You like being told how good you are? You like being my good girl?”

Y/N whined, her hands moving to grab at Bucky’s wrists. Something to anchor her, she supposed.

Or just an excuse to touch him.

“You want me to tell you how pretty you look like this? Spread out and whining for me? Wearing my shirt?”

It was becoming too much: the way his hands grabbed at her skin, the way his breath fanned over her face, the words he was speaking.

“Please,” she begged.

“Use your words.”

“Fuck, please,” she tried. “I need you.”

Bucky smirked. “Where? Where do you need me?”

This was torture. She had seen the worst of humanity. She had fought the worst of humanity. But this was pure, unadulterated punishment.

And she loved it.

“Please,” she rasped.

Bucky chuckled, a sound that raked down her nerves. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

He plunged two metal fingers deep in her core, the cold biting into the lining of her walls. It stung, but it was wonderful.

“God,” Y/N gasped, a newfound sense of euphoria washing over her.

“You feel so soft,” Bucky rasped, kissing the space between her breasts with a tenderness that was unlike him.

It was too much. The cool steel of his fingers stung and her whimpering was fueled by the way they curled inside her.

“I knew you’d like this,” Bucky rasped. His hand pushed harder, deeper, until he was stroking just out of reach of where she really wanted him. “I always thought you’d be responsive, but this…” Another kiss. “This is better than I could have ever imagined.”

“Bucky,” Y/N moaned.

He paused. His lips hovered just above her nipple and his fingers stilled inside her. “Fuck, say it again.”

And so she did.

“Bucky.”

“Fuck, good girl,” he groaned, plunging back in with a renewed vigor. “You’re getting me all wet, baby. Look how pretty you look taking my fingers. Already whining, and I’ve barely touched you.” He dove in for her mouth this time, lips borderline bruising. He spoke against her mouth in a tone that sent heat rushing through her. “I can’t wait to see what you do with my cock in you.”

“I’m gonna-”

“No you’re not,” he growled, pulling his fingers away. Y/N groaned, but was cut short by a hand at her throat.

“Enough. Whining. I won’t tell you again,” Bucky hissed.

He tightened his grip around her throat, and her vision immediately blurred. Bucky smirked. “Good.”

Then he was inspecting his fingers, watching the way her essence dripped down the metal of his hand. Another groan.

“Open,” he commanded. Y/N’s lips parted, her tongue darting out eagerly. Bucky slid two metal fingers into her waiting mouth, pushing them back far enough to brush the back of her throat. Her eyes watered as she gagged, but she kept her mouth open all the same.

“So pretty.”

It was intoxicating, the taste of herself on the tang of metal, and she greedily lapped at his digits while he thrusted them past her lips. She had just started to lose herself when he pulled his fingers away.

His now spit-slick metal hand dug into the flesh on her ass when he had managed to (easily) manhandle her onto her front, leaving her gasping into the pillow at the sting. Her scorching flesh burned hotter against the cool brush of vibranium. Y/N’s entire body was on fire, made worse by the intensity and heat of Bucky’s gaze sliding over her skin. She was still lost in that feeling when she jumped against the sheets with a whimper, Bucky’s hand soothing over the now sore spot he had left after striking the flesh underneath.

“That one was for snapping at me all day,” he taunted, a smirk evident in his voice as he raised his hand again. Y/N braced herself for the strike, but still cried out when it landed. “And that, is for calling me ‘James’,” he growled out.

She was panting, breath ragged and sharp in her lungs. “You-” she gasped out as his fingers drew lazy circles over the marks he had left on her ass. “You can’t-”

“I can,” he hissed, wrenching her head back by her hair. “And you’re going to take everything I give you.”

Any sane person would’ve refused. Kicked him off of them with a snide comment and gone to bed, maybe even pretending this never happened to salvage any scrap of dignity left after everything that had happened.

“Got it?” Bucky growled with another tug to her hair.

“Yes, sir,” she groaned back.

The older man sighed contentedly, releasing his grip on her hair and dragging both hands down her spine slowly. “I think you’ve had enough spanking for now.”

A small surge of something close to panic roared through her, panic at losing this feeling, and the sting she could still feel on her ass.

“No!” Y/N gasped out before she could stop herself, too far gone to feel the bite of embarrassment at her words. Bucky’s hands stilled on her hips, and his fingers flexed against her skin.

“No?”

“Please,” she nearly whispered. “Please keep going.”

Silence hung, low and heavy around them for several moments. Had it not been for the weight of his hands still on her, Y/N would’ve thought he left.

Then, a groan, low and guttural, like the sound was being punched out of him. Bucky’s hand slid around the front of her neck, the heat of his flesh seeping into her throat. His grip was tight enough to pull her head up, but just barely. Suddenly, his mouth was right next to her ear, tone low and threatening, much like one he used when speaking to their targets.

“This is your last chance to tell me to cool off before I ruin you,” he bit out.

It was as good of a warning as she was gonna get, Y/N knew from their time together on missions, seeing the “Winter Soldier” firsthand. A sick thrill ran through her blood.

“Please,” she insisted.

A resounding ‘smack’ rang through the air as Bucky brought down his other hand against her ass, metal impacting soft skin. Y/N arched back against him, simultaneously running from and chasing the feeling.

More smacks followed, each one worse than the last. Her resolve was crumbling beneath her with each blow. Sensing her drop, Bucky smoothed both hands over her abused cheeks with a smirk.

“What happened to begging? Hm?” he taunted, digging his fingers into her already bruising skin just to see her hiss and try to pull away.

“Please,” she slurred against the pillow.

Bucky laughed, a mean and cruel sound. “Is that all you know how to say now? Have I already fucked you that stupid? I’ve barely touched you sweet girl.”

Y/N’s head was reeling, an emotional whiplash pounding at her temples as he mocked her and soothed the bite all in one breath.

“I need you inside me. Need to feel you,” she whimpered out, writhing as his hands pressed her further into the mattress.

Bucky muttered a sharp ‘fuck’ under his breath, before recomposing himself. She could hear the shuffle of him ridding himself of his pants, and she held her breath when she felt the rigid line of him press against her already sore ass.

Y/N keened high in her throat and pressed her hips back into his harder. Bucky pulled back just barely, teasing her.

“You sure about this?”

And maybe it was the gentle note of sincerity staining his voice that made her head swim, but Y/N found her breath catching once again.

“Please,” she insisted again.

And then Bucky was pressing into her slowly, inch by torturous inch, until he was seated all the way to the hilt with a strangled moan. Words failed Y/N as she felt the head of his cock pressing into the deepest and most intimate part of her, already leaving her aching in his wake.

Bucky dug his fingers into her flesh, pulling her back against him to sink into her even further. It was overwhelming, the way he filled every space within her, leaving her no room to even breathe. He was unlike any other partner she had ever had, and Y/N had the sick feeling she may never be satisfied with anyone else. She wrapped her fingers around the smooth metal of Bucky’s wrist, dragging his hand up to settle around her throat once more. The older man’s grip stayed loose where it rested against the skin of her neck as he let out a shallow breath.

“Don’t,” he panted. “Don’t do that. I don’t think I can be gentle with you if we start that.”

It was sick, so sick, the thrill that thrummed through her veins at the thought of Bucky, the Winter Soldier, stringing her out and using her body in that brutal way that only he could.

It was that same thrill (and slight mania) that sent her over the edge of insanity (and stupidity).

“Is that so?,” she gritted out with as much teasing in her voice as she could. She felt him tense behind her, deadly quiet and still as he waited for her to continue. “Or are you just worried you won’t have enough bite to match your bark?”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Bucky’s fingers tightened around her throat to the point of it being painful, her breathing slowing to almost a stand still. His hot breath ran across her ears as he leaned in to whisper, “I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of this.”

The pace he set was immediately brutal, leaving no time for her to adjust to the sheer size and force of him. The sharp curve of hip bones dug into her ass almost painfully with every thrust as he filled her to the hilt. Words failed her completely, nothing but wanton moans stuttering out between her ragged breathing. Normally, she’d have the sense to be embarrassed about her volume altogether, but this was not the same run-of-the-mill hookups she was used to. This was untamed and raw and torturous.

Another moan slipped between her rough-bitten lips, and then Bucky was slipping his grip up to her chin and cheeks to grab her face hard and turn her head painfully to meet his wild eyes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed, pushing her face away again before dropping his hand against the flesh of her bottom once again, leaving a sting in its wake.

His manhandling only made that pit in her stomach worse, and Y/N clenched her jaw to stifle the whimpers free flowing from her mouth. It only seemed to spur the soldier behind her even more.

His cock was dragging against her walls sinfully, and she wondered if she had ever felt this full before. Or if she’d ever feel this full again.

“You want everyone in this goddamn hotel to hear you?” Bucky ground out when yet another pathetic sound escaped her. He pulled his hips back just enough to slip out of her before yanking her up by the arm to roll her over onto her back. The intimacy of facing him as he dismantled her piece by piece was overwhelming, and Y/N nearly cowered away from the heat of his stare as it roved over exposed form, but Bucky was quickly slipping his cock back into her and she was keening once again.

Bucky’s hand reared back quickly, and Y/N braced herself for the slap to fall against her ass, but gasped when the strike landed across her cheek. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes at the burn, but the moan that tore from her throat betrayed her arousal at the impact.

The older man towering over her laughed, a full and mocking sound that made her want to simultaneously sink back and chase the cadence of it. His tone was nothing short of taunting when he sneered at her. “You’re getting off on this.”

Her cheeks burned again, this time from shame instead of smacking, and she pulled into herself just barely. It was humiliating to be this vulnerable in front of him, but the thrill of him seeing every dirty part of her and fueling all of it gave her a sick sort of satisfaction.

“You like when I get rough with you, pretty girl? You like it when I treat you like the whore you are?” he crooned, a gentle hand smoothing down her cheek as his thrusts picked up even more. That same hand gripped her cheeks hard enough to make her lips pucker, a smile pulling up at his lips as her pupils blew out. “My little whore. All mine.”

Mine.

Y/N whined, that knot tightening even further. “Please,” she gasped out for what felt like the hundredth time.

Bucky smirked. “Please, what? What is it, baby?”

Any other day, his teasing would’ve earned him a lashing from her, but she only found it more and more enticing now. “I need to cum,” she panted, on the verge of tears. “Please let me cum.”

She could see the effect her begging had on him, his eyes darkening considerably. “I don’t know-”

A choked sob broke from her chest, a single tear rolling down her cheek hotly. It was all too much, and she had the feeling she’d combust if he didn’t grant her relief. “Please,” she begged once again, more desperate now.

“Fuck,” Bucky gritted out between clenched teeth, eyes zeroing in on the path of the tear staining her cheek. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

She could have wept as the wave of euphoria swept over her, pulling her under fast and hard and wracking through her body with an intensity she had never felt before. She clenched around Bucky’s shaft like a vice, and she felt him twitch before he was spilling into her with mutters of “all mine”. His thrusting continued as she rode out her high and even long after it had passed, making her whine at the sensitivity. He only pulled out when she weakly shoved at his shoulder, too overstimulated to take much more.

They were both panting as they stared at each other, and Y/N said a silent thank you to whoever could hear her that Bucky looked just as wrecked as she felt. He pulled away from her quicker than she would have liked and retreated to the bathroom. She heard the faucet turn and on and off before he reemerged with a wet rag. Her face flushed as he nudged her knees open and made to wipe at his seed dripping out of her before she stopped him with a hand to the wrist.

He leveled her with a look that made her toes curl, that same bit of dominance she had seen firsthand creeping into the expression. “I was just inside you, and now you’re trying to keep me from cleaning you up?” Y/N swallowed, still too embarrassed to let him take care of her like this. Bucky scoffed, and his voice turned stern. “Move your hand. Now.”

And even though they were done with whatever had just happened between them, Y/N found herself obeying the order. Her partner took care to clean her up gently before tossing the rag aside in the small pile of dirty linens they had accumulated. He slid into bed next to her, lifting the sheets slightly before pulling her into him with a strong, muscle chorded arm. Silence hung around them for a moment.

“Should we talk about this?” she whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would shatter the calm.

“No,” Bucky replied simply, sinking a stone in her heart before he continued. “You need to rest right now. Talking can wait until you’ve slept.”

It was a sweet sentiment, but Y/N didn’t want to leave things unchecked just because she needed rest (even if sleep was tugging at her eyelids heavily). “Are you sure? Maybe we should-”

“It wasn’t a suggestion, you’re going to sleep,” he insisted, pulling her in tighter and tempting her with his warmth.

She gave in with a playful huff, burrowing into his chest with a private smile. It felt natural, to be with him like this.

But Bucky Barnes always has to ruin her good mood.

“Who knew bossing you around was all it took to get you to shut up.”

She rolled her eyes, even as a laugh crept up her throat. “Don’t get used to it.”

Y/N felt the smile he buried in her hair as he pecked the crown of her head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

note: i’m not aiming for accuracy, im aiming for a good time

[detroit-grand-prix]

letzte rose - bittere erinnrungen

Toto Wolff x Susie Wolff Royal/Historical AU

Chapter Summary: During breakfast, Toto's mother brings up the possibility of remarriage, and a list of potential brides. Toto refuses to look at it, but spends an afternoon reflecting on the state of his personal life.

Weekends meant that Toto’s rigorous schedule was relaxed, albeit only a bit.

He let himself sleep in a bit later, getting up at 5am instead of 3:30, and he had breakfast with his children and his mother instead of taking it alone in his study.

As he arrived for breakfast on Saturday — at 7:00am sharp — though, the only other person at the table was his mother.

— Where are the children? — he said, sitting down at the chair at the head of the table, as the attendant pulled it out for him. 

— Benedict said that he would be on the piste for an early fencing lesson, so he is with his trainer. Rosi, I think, said she would be dining with your sister this morning — Johanna said, her voice a little vacant. Her eyes were glued to a copy of some newspaper, likely the Wiener Zeitung, but Toto couldn’t see the masthead. A prickle of annoyance traveled down the back of his neck. How many times had he been told off for trying to read at the dining table, even in recent years?

— Something interesting in the papers this morning? — he said, as an attendant placed a tea tray in front of him.

— What? — Johanna said, startled — No, I mean… just the…

— Maybe something in the society pages caught your eye?

Toto smirked as Johanna became visibly flustered, tossing aside the hastily-folded volume and turning attention to her plate.

 — Never mind that, I wanted to talk to you about something important, and it’s just as well that Bene and Rosi aren’t here — Johanna said, making Toto look up from his cup of tea, furrowing his eyebrows.

— It has been a while since we talked about it, but I think you need to give remarriage some more consideration again — she ignored Toto as he opened his mouth to immediately protest, pressing on — it’s been years since Stephanie’s passing, and you need someone other than me to perform the Empress’ duties.

— Why not Rosi? — Toto asked cooly, recalling his conversation with Niki.

— Because Rosi needs to put serious consideration into her own marriage and future. Both of your children do! Don’t think I won’t be speaking to them later on about this, either — She speared a piece of tomato with her fork and Toto felt that she was somehow eating it at him. 

— Mama, I’ve told you before, I am not interested in marrying again.

— You’ve no good reason to refuse, my son.

— I just can’t, mama. It feels wrong — Toto pushed his eggs around his plate with his fork. 

— What do you mean? There’s no sin in it. Father Strossmayer and I have spoken about this, and he agrees with me, and the Bible even encourages…

Toto took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before giving in to his urge to stand up and start yelling. The calm, quiet, even way his voice came out surprised him. 

— I know what the church says, but I loved Stephanie. When I was younger, I thought marriage was simply my duty, but I ended up being blessed enough to fall in love with the woman I married, a privilege I thought I’d never be afforded. I’ve discharged that particular duty to the crown and laid my heart to rest with her. It doesn’t feel right for me to dig it up again and give someone the rotted remains. Besides, I will remind you that you never remarried after papa died.

Toto and Lili’s father, Sven, was the Duke of Norrbotten and a Prince of Sweden. He and Johanna got along quite well, and Toto remembered his father as a kind, gentle man, but not long after the birth of Toto’s sister, something changed. 

He started experiencing frequent nosebleeds and headaches that would make it difficult for him to leave his bed. He would frequently become too dizzy to walk, almost as if he was drunk, but he was never much of a drinker. He started showing fits of delirium, agitation, and hallucinations. 

The court doctor was called, and theorized that it might be some sort of neurological issue. The court chaplain came to say some prayers at his bedside — Johanna refused to call it an “exorcism” — but it was all for naught. He eventually refused all food and drink, and slept at all hours, until his body and spirit just seemed to give up.

An autopsy was performed after Sven’s death, and it was found that his brain was riddled with tumors, which explained all of the horrid symptoms he had been experiencing.

It was not a time that Toto really cared to remember. 

Johanna’s expression turned sour, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair once more.

— No, I did not, because I had two children to take care of. Not to mention, it is far easier for a widowed man to find a spouse than a widowed woman, especially one that already has the future secured. Your grandfather agreed that it was best for me to remain single, as there was no material benefit to any potential suitors.

— And what benefit would there be to me remarrying now?

— Well, for one thing, it would afford you the opportunity to have another son, to insure that you have a successor — Johanna saw Toto open his mouth to argue, but ignored it and continued on — While you’ve done well to secure your line of succession, it would present an opportunity to ensure there’s a spare, in case something happens to Benedict. It is not as if I wish for it, but, we do not know God’s will for any of us. For another thing, there needs to be someone to manage the royal household and the social duties that you have been neglecting for the past few years, to your own detriment. Now, I’ve got a list of names of ladies that would be perfectly suitable…

Johanna slipped her hand into the small reticule she always carried, extracting a slip of paper from within. 

— There’s Princess Francisca of Brazil… I believe she just turned twenty-four, I’ve heard she’s rather striking. And then there’s Princess Maria Carolina of Bourbon Two-Sicilies, you’ve met her, I believe. She was born here in Vienna, and she’s the daughter of my cousin Clementina… and then Luisa Fernanda of Spain… she’s young, but that would be a handsome match; she’s the heir presumptive until Isabella has a child, you know. And that’s just the Catholic houses! It’s not ideal, but an especially good match from a Protestant family may be willing to convert…

Johanna had stopped looking at Toto, her eyes locked on the list of names in her hand. No doubt she was already planning the next great state wedding, and Toto could feel the anger rising within him as his mother continued to talk. It felt like a hot bile creeping up his throat, twisting his insides, making him clench his fists until he could feel his fingernails digging into the meat of his palms.

— That’s enough! — he said, pounding his fist on the tabletop. The flatware and cutlery clattered. One of the attendants in the room yelped slightly in surprise, immediately covering her mouth and blushing. Johanna stopped, mid-sentence, gaping at her son in shock. — I tell you this every time you bring it up, mother, but I do not wish to be remarried. If you must spend all of your spare time worrying about the security of my line of succession, I implore you to focus these efforts on your grandchildren instead. I am telling you, as a grown man and the emperor of this nation, that we shall not speak about remarriage again, and that is final.

Johanna’s eyes had narrowed, and her expression hardened. 

— And I am your mother — she hissed, venom dripping from her every syllable — I am simply doing what is best for you, for this nation, and for your happiness.

— My happiness?! — Toto said, raising his voice almost to a shout — Mama, we both know you have never given a damn about my happiness!

He was now on his feet, his chair pushed back and his breakfast long-abandoned and likely ice-cold. The dishes continued to rattle on the tabletop as he jabbed his finger into the cloth-covered wood. 

— You didn’t give a single thought to my happiness when you arranged my marriage to Stephanie, and it was only by the grace of God that we came to love each other. Of course, our marriage was happy before she passed, but as you’ve told me yourself, my happiness was secondary to ensuring the future of our family’s dynasty.

Toto stepped away from the table, breezing past the pair of servants that were frozen in shock. He pulled on the handle to the door into the dining room a bit harder than necessary, stopping halfway over the threshold to turn around and face his mother once more. 

— If you truly have any concern for my happiness, you will not bring this up again!

Toto retreated into his study, pacing around the small room as he tried to calm himself down.

He hadn’t lost his temper that badly in years, that he could remember, possibly decades. When he was younger, in the earlier days of his reign, he had been quicker to anger. He was desperate to prove himself and his authority in the days right after his grandfather died, not trusting that anybody saw him as anything more than a child pretending to be a ruler and a statesman. Him being short, sometimes even brutal, with his advisors was the norm, but a combination of time and the perspective that came with wisdom and experience mellowed him greatly, as did his desire to be a good husband and father. 

Normally after Saturday’s breakfast, he would review any paperwork or important matters that had come across overnight until the early afternoon. He did not work on Sundays, wishing to keep the Sabbath as a holy day of rest. Most of the royal household had the day off as well.

— I will never be able to focus like this — he mumbled to himself as he sat down at his desk. He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes until he could see stars, as if it would push the memory of the last hour out of his head by force.

He blinked as he lifted his head, trying to clear the blurriness from his vision, and the portrait of Stephanie resolved into focus from its place on the wall.

He knew exactly what would help.

Toto smirked, and opened the topmost drawer in his desk — the one right under the top, and fished out a ring of small brass keys. Then, he opened one of the lower drawers, extracting a small wooden box from within. 

He set the box on his desk, running a finger over the inlaid brass lettering on the top, the word “MIZPAH” in large capital letters. It had been a while since he had seen it, and there was a thin coating of dust on its glossy lacquered surface. The box was unassuming by the standards of everything else in the palace, belying the value of its contents to Toto. True, what was inside the box did not have much — if any — monetary value, but was priceless in Toto’s eyes.

He put the key in the lock and sprang the latches, revealing a thick stack of papers — letters, envelopes, postcards. It was all of the letters he and Stephanie had exchanged through the years, the earliest ones having been written before they had even met, after their marriage arrangement had been finalized and before she arrived in Vienna. There were letters and postcards from the separate travels they had taken through the years. Toto often had to travel for functions of state, and Stephanie had always enjoyed seeing new places, even as a child. They had taken many trips together, but Toto was not always able to join her because of the demands of his schedule, so they resolved to write to each other often when they had to be apart. 

Engraved on the underside of the lid was a Bible verse, the one referenced by the word on the lid’s inlay. A verse of Genesis, telling of the covenant made between Jacob and Laban, he remembered. It was written in the Latin vulgate — intueatur Dominus et iudicet inter nos quando recesserimus a nobis. 

“The Lord watch between me and thee, while we are absent, one from another.” 

The priest that performed Stephanie’s funeral rites had referenced the verse in his sermon, inspiring Toto to have one of the court’s artisans, a particularly talented furniture maker, make the box to contain the letters for safekeeping. He had meticulously paired each and every one together, the letters he sent and the ones she sent in response, and vice versa. 

He felt his anger with his mother dissipating as he thumbed through the letters, admiring Stephanie’s elegant looping handwriting. Some of the pages had little mementos stuck to the pages — flowers she had pressed, little doodles she had made in the margins and footers. He skimmed through the contents, remembering trips she had taken with the children; home to Bavaria to visit her family once, trips to the seaside in France, to Paris via the Rhine, even to London. 

Letting all of the memories flood back in left Toto feeling almost relaxed, until he came upon the last letter in the pile. 

“How had I forgotten about this?”, he wondered, turning the pages over in his fingers.

For the last two years of her life, Stephanie had not been well. It started with her experiencing night sweats and fatigue. Before long, she was unable to keep weight on, no matter how much she ate. The doctors at court diagnosed her with consumption, but were optimistic about her recovery. It was recommended she leave Vienna and spend some time at the seaside, that the sea air would help. 

The children went with her as she departed to a castle the family owned — Castelo di Miramare — just outside of Trieste, on the shore of the Adriatic Sea. The three of them spent many months there, and it seemed for a while that Stephanie was on the road to recovery. She planned to be in Trieste until the summer, when the family would reunite in Bad Ischl, at the summer villa. 

Toto wrote letters every few days to her, and was reading one he had sent her while she was in Trieste. In it, he was telling her about a dilemma he was facing with the State Council. He had constantly been butting heads with Chancellor Metternich, even then, but the question had come up about one of Metternich’s staunchest allies, Count Karl Clam-Martinic. He was pushing for reforms that would make the government more conservative, practically relegating Toto’s role to merely a symbolic one, and would promote Chancellor Metternich to something akin to an autocrat, like the Shogunate of Japan allowing the emperor to remain in a ceremonial role with almost no power.

Niki, and another councilor, Count Franz Anton von Kolowrat-Liebsteinsky, were pushing Toto to replace him with someone more moderate, but Toto thought removing him would destabilize the government, resolving to find other ways to keep him in check. His letter described the dilemma to his wife, hoping for some of her insight. Stephanie was very intelligent, and had an uncanny ability to see things objectively. Niki joked that she was the unofficial fifth member of the State Council.

She had written back within days, encouraging him to go forward with Count Karl’s dismissal. 

“I know this is a difficult decision, my darling,” she wrote. Toto’s eyes hovered over the last line of the letter. “But, fortunately, spring is coming soon no matter how difficult the winter has been, and, like the flowers, you will need to bloom”.

Toto felt a tear streaming down his cheek as he reached the end of the letter. He did not know it when he had received it, but it would be the last one she had written. Her condition rapidly deteriorated for a week after months of steady improvement, until she passed away from pleurisy that February.

He sniffed, wiping the tears away that were forming in the corner of his eyes. He glanced up at the portrait once more.

“I suppose I still have a way to go before I bloom, meine geliebte”.

He sat in silence for a few moments before he neatly tucked away the letters, placing the box back in its compartment. 

As he was doing so, a knock came from the door to his bedroom, and Phillip, his Kammerdiener, stuck his head through.

— I have your riding clothes ready for you, Your Imperial Majesty, if you were planning to go to the Stallburg today after lunch.

“How is it noon already?” Toto thought. After working for a few hours on Saturdays after breakfast, he would have a light lunch and go to the imperial stables for a few hours to ride. 

While the indoor sand arena — the Stallburg — that Toto’s great-great-great-grandfather had built was more than adequate in size to get a decent ride in, he wished, more than anything, that he could go for a hack around the countryside, or even through the city, like he could when he was younger, before he himself was saddled with the burden of his duties. He liked to race the horses against his friends, and had started taking riding lessons at an early age. When he was young, he had aspired to attend the Spanish Riding School, but his accession at age 15 left no time for regular training. 

Despite being confined to the arena most of the year — with the exception of the summer holidays — Toto looked forward to his time at the stables all week, because he felt like it was the only time where the mantle of his office didn’t sit so heavily on his shoulders, and around the arena always did a great deal to lift his spirits. The students of the riding school finished before lunch on Saturdays, and he made sure that nobody else could come in to ride in the afternoons. Even if he didn’t have time to ride very long before having to dash off to another appointment, he fit in time in the saddle where he could.

While the grooms at the stable took excellent care of the animals in their charge, and other people in his family had their horses prepared and waiting when they came riding, Toto always insisted on doing the preparation work himself; brushing down the horse, picking its hooves, and putting on tack. He even preferred to groom the horse after his ride, talking sweetly to it all the while, and feeding it peppermints from the pockets of his riding coat — probably more than the stablemaster would prefer.

His favorite was a stallion named Conversano Comtessa, but went by Campione. Campione was nearing twenty years old; very nearly an old man, and had always been especially sweet and gentle, especially with Toto’s children when they were young. 

He was of exceptional beauty, too. All of the horses in the Stallburg were white-haired Lippizans, but Campione’s hair looked like spun silver, especially in his mane and tail. He was extraordinarily well-muscled, and Toto had heard that he had been a favorite of each student of the Spanish Riding School that had been assigned to him since he started under saddle. He was not used regularly for lessons now, as he was getting on in years, but the trainers still exercised him. 

— Good afternoon, Campione — he said, as he reached the stall of his prized stallion. The horse perked its ears up, bringing his head over the door of the stall. Toto reached out and patted his velvety nose. The horse pushed his nose past Toto’s hand, sniffing at his pockets.

— Yes, I know, we have an agreement — Toto said, chuckling. He pulled out one of the candies from his pocket, which Campione snatched near immediately before backing up a bit, allowing Toto to open the door to the stall to enter. It was a routine by now. As he brushed and tacked up the horse, his mind was elsewhere, thinking about the conversation with his mother and reading his wife’s letters. 

It had been eleven years since he was widowed, and that morning was not the first time that his mother had brought up remarriage, but he had never considered it on his own, and bristled whenever someone else brought it up. 

“But why…?” he wondered, guiding Campione smoothly around the arena in a walk. He was letting the animal warm up, keeping the reins long and loose. 

It certainly wouldn’t be out of the norm to remarry as a widower, and as his mother said, it was encouraged by the church. But whenever the thought crossed his mind, he swiftly dismissed it, telling himself that he needed more time.

Before he had even realized it, more time had turned into eleven years. 

He and Stephanie had always talked about the things they would do together when they had grown old. He never aspired to stay on the throne until his death; it was not something he discussed with anyone but Stephanie, but he had planned on abdicating when Benedict had been sufficiently prepared for the job of running the empire. He and his wife had plans to renovate Ambras Castle in Innsbruck to use as a winter home, and they would spend their summers in Trieste. They would travel around Europe, of course, and they both wanted to see the United States. 

But then, once she passed, Toto stopped making plans. He felt like a tree that dropped its leaves for the winter. Still standing, somehow, but dormant, maybe even dead from afar. He sank himself into his work, living by his routine and barely registering his own existence outside of it. He tried putting on a brave face for his children, but even they seemed to notice, asking occasionally if he was okay.

Toto pulled the reins a bit, directing Campione into a trot, making sure that his topline was long enough and low enough for the more strenuous exercises. 

He let his thoughts skirt the idea he had long forbidden himself from thinking about — would it be the worst thing in the world to have some companionship again? It was not as if anyone would replace Stephanie in his memories or his heart, but he did miss having someone around who knew him as more than The Emperor, someone to share little jokes and knowing looks, someone to share his deepest worries, to share meals, someone to join him for ballets and concerts, on walks around the garden, on summers in Bad Ischl…

“Sure, take a new wife, fall in love again. But what if she leaves you in the same way? What if you die before her? Everybody dies sometime, after all”, asked a cruel voice in the back of his mind. 

Suddenly, Campione stopped sharply, jerking Toto forward. He managed to keep himself in the saddle, but only just. He briefly wondered what could have spooked a normally superbly disciplined horse, but he was simply standing at rest in the arena, flicking his ears about as if he was waiting for the next command. Toto realized that the error was his — he had tightened the reins too much without even realizing it, giving the horse the signal to stop. He hadn’t meant to. It was a product of being startled by his own revelation.

— Sorry, boy — he said, sheepishly patting the beast’s neck. Campione snorted and pawed at the dirt a bit with his forelegs, before responding to Toto’s command to continue in a canter.

His fears were now plain as day; he never cared to live through the weeks following Stephanie’s death again, but… 

The way he was now could hardly be called “living”. He was dormant, like the trees in winter. He was standing, sure, but from far away, he may as well be rotting upright. 

The situation was different, but Stephanie’s advice in her letter was right — he needed to bloom. 

He felt a strange calm as he finished up his ride, and felt a sense of clarity that he hadn’t had for a while. It carried him the rest of the way through the evening.

The next morning, as he kneeled and prayed before Sunday Mass with his family in — the Hofkapelle — the court chapel, the prayer he said was not the usual ones he did by rote each week. It was an earnest plea, less so to God or Christ or the Blessed Virgin, but to Stephanie. 

“You will always be my first love, but it has been a very hard winter without you, meine geliebte, and I cannot join you yet. I’ve denied myself the comfort of another while I still live in this world, but I cannot continue in this loneliness. You told me I need to bloom, so please, send me a sign that it is time and continue to keep me in your prayers as you are always in mine”.

The next morning, while Toto was doing his morning work, there was a knock on the door of his study once again.

— Come in — he said, not looking up from the military dispatches he was in the middle of reading.

The door opened to reveal Phillip, holding a singular white rose. 

— Sorry to interrupt, Your Imperial Majesty, but the head gardener thought you might like to have this — Phillip crossed the room and extended the flower to Toto. 

Toto took the rose, glancing at it in his hand. It certainly wasn’t an ideal specimen. Its stem and leaves looked a bit ragged — damaged by frost, no doubt — but the petals looked like they were in decent shape, somehow, showing only the slightest discoloration around the edges. 

— The garden staff was working on getting the rose bushes covered, but it seems that one of the blooms wasn’t pruned with the rest of them a few weeks ago, or just decided to come late. The last one, in any case — Phillip said — The gardener gave it to me to give to you, he said that the white ones were the Empress’ favorites.

Toto had stopped paying attention to what Phillip was saying, and was staring aghast at the flower. Stephanie did love white roses, often saying that they were the most beautiful ones of all, even if the petals lacked in color.

“They also signify purity and new love, you know,” he remembered her telling him once, after she had snipped a particularly large bloom from the palace garden. “I know you weren’t there for it, but my wedding dress had little white roses embroidered into it”.

He stared at the bloom for a moment aghast, before regaining his focus.

— Thank you, Phillip. Tell the gardener I appreciate it very much.

— I will, your Imperial Majesty — he bowed deeply and retreated, closing the door behind him, and Toto fixed his gaze on his wife’s portrait.

— I suppose this is your answer, meine geliebte. Thank you.

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | four

A/N: This one is an emotional one.  Please be prepared.  Content warnings are below.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); parent death; swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                *     *     *     *     *

Brock was wiping Grace’s tears as he stood in between her legs as she sat on the counter.  She had come over to his house crying after an appointment at the hospital with her dad’s neurologist.  There was no good update.  There was no bad update.  There was just an update.  “Things are progressing at the rate they’ve always been progressing,” the doctor had told her.  “We’ll see how long the pureed foods last.  He’s been doing well with that, but as you know it will have to switch as some point to tube feedings.”

“I just want so much more time with him,” Grace cried into Brock’s shoulder, clinging to his body with every limb she had.  Brock pulled her away slightly so he could look her in the eye and wipe the tears that were streaming down her face himself.  “There was still so much he wanted to do.  So much I wanted to do with him.  He—he’s accepted his fate, but it also breaks his heart.”

Brock’s heart was heavy.  He wrapped his arms around her again and held her close against his body, placing small reassuring kisses on her neck and whispering to her over and over again that everything would be okay.  In reality, the both of them knew it wouldn’t be.  Hamish was dying.  He was dying a slow death.  But both of them also knew it was exactly what Grace needed right now – to be held, to have her tears wiped away, to be told everything was going to be alright.  It was one of the things she loved most about Brock, that he always knew what to do and what to say to her.  

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear tenderly.

“I love you too, Brock,” Grace whispered back.  “I love you so much.”

As Brock stood in the kitchen with Grace’s limbs wrapped around him, he thought about his dad.  He thought about Duke holding his hand as they watched football together.  He thought about Duke sipping on water from a straw, angry that he couldn’t have a beer like his buddies around him (his buddies would eventually stop drinking beer in front of him).  He thought about helping his dad get dressed, making his bed, helping him in and out of chairs or sofas.  He thought about his dad with Coolie and Milo and how much he loved them.  

Brock started crying too.

***

“You alright dad?” Grace asked as she gripped her father’s hand, watching him as he sat down on his bed in his brand new pajamas she bought him.  He nodded his head before sitting.  “Okay, let me help you with your legs.”

She bent down in front of him, seeing that he had already lifted them off the ground before she grabbed them gently and brought them on top of the bed.  He shifted his own body further into the mattress, and she made sure to fluff up his pillows before he really set his head on them.  “There you go,” she said, grabbing at the blanket bunched up at his feet.  She brought it up and draped it over his body, making sure he was snug in his bed.  She looked down at him once more.  “Sleep tight, dad.”

He said nothing.  Instead, he grabbed her hand.  Grace looked down at him.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Why’re you so scared, sweetheart?”

Grace almost burst into tears right then and there.  But she knew she had to stay strong for her dad, because he hated seeing her cry.  He probably wouldn’t sleep for the night if she did.  “I’m just scared for the day I’m going to wake up and you won’t be here anymore,” Grace admitted to him.  Even though the doctor’s appointment didn’t necessarily bring her any good or bad news, these thoughts had been rampant in her mind ever since.  She only ever expressed them to Brock.  Sometimes to Svea.  “I know the day has been coming since I was fourteen and I’m still not prepared for it.”

“You’re…a smart girl, Gracie,” he said.  “Even with me gone…you will…still be able to do…everything that you want to.  Dance.  Have a family.  Be a mom.”

Grace nodded her head.  “I know I will.  I just don’t know if it will be as special if you’re not here to see me do all that.  Especially become a mom.  Because you know how much I want to be a mom but it’s—you’d be the best grandpa.”

“I’ll be there.  I’ll be watching.”

That’s what got her.  Right then and there, Grace let out a sob, heavy and desperate and loud, like a hurricane had just swept through her body and had taken everything with it.  She tried to stop but it was no use.  And while she sat there on the edge of his bed sobbing, he pulled her down so her head was to his chest.  “You need to…stop worrying, Gracie,” Hamish said.  She could feel and hear his heart beating.  “I’m still here…and still breathing.  Don’t you worry.”

***

“D’you miss your parents?” Grace asked Svea one night when they were hanging out together at Elias’s apartment.  They were alone in the den while Brock and Elias played video games, and Grace was looking at all the photos Svea had of her with her older sister and parents.  There were a few of her and Elias too – that was a given – in Vancouver or when they were awkward looking teenagers.  She got a kick out of those.  

“Of course.  Every day,” Svea nodded her head.  “Do you miss your parents being together?”

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  “They separated when I was so young – I barely remember them together.  I remember the fighting more.”

Svea hated to hear that sort of thing.  She knew Grace’s story, and Grace had talked to her about it before, but every time they did speak about it, Grace revealed just a little bit more about it.  “That must have been hard for you – to see your parents fighting.”

“Not just see – I was involved in it half the time,” Grace revealed.  “They would use me to get back at the other.  They were young and stupid and had too much money, and it made things unnecessarily complicated.  I think that’s why I want to become a mom so bad, you know?  Because even though I know my parents loved me, I just want to give them a better childhood experience than what I had between my parents.”

“You want them to know mom and dad love each other,” Svea nodded.

“Exactly,” Grace stressed.  “And I want, like, a big family.  I want my kids to be able to have each other, you know?  That whole time I was so alone.  I had my friends at school but I never had a sibling.  Nobody really understood.”

Svea could only imagine.  It was at that moment she realized how lucky she was that she knew her parents loved each other.  Love was complicated, yes, but they loved each other.  Her mother moved from Vancouver to a tiny town in Sweden to be with her father – that was love.  “I think you’ve found what you need in Brock, you know,” Svea said matter-of-factly.

“I know I have,” Grace nodded her head, smiling slightly.  “I’m a very lucky girl.”

“He’s a very lucky guy,” Svea quipped.

Grace couldn’t help but giggle.  “So is Elias,” she retorted, causing Svea to blush.  “When the hell are you going to marry him, Svea?  That boy is head over heels in love with you.”

Svea shook her head.  “He’s my best friend, Grace.”

***

“I love you so much,” Grace whispered as Brock bent down to kiss her, his travel-day suit already on, and a beanie on his head covering the hair Grace loved so much.  She loved running her fingers through it, especially while in bed, and the best part was that Brock loved her doing it too, so she did it all the time.  

“I love you too,” Brock replied after the kiss.  “What are you gonna get up to for these two weeks I’m not here?”

“A lot of masturbating while I think about you.”

Brock groaned, burying his head into the crook of her neck as she giggled.  He bit down at the skin of her neck and she yelped.  “You better fucking call me when you do,” he growled in her ear.

“I will.”

Brock gave her one last kiss before standing up straight again.  “Say hello to your dad,” he said, even though he just saw him yesterday for their weekly Sunday Night Football watching.  “Tell him I’m sorry about Sunday, but I’ll make it up to him when I win our Superbowl bet.”

Grace smiled.  “He’ll be crushed if he loses that bet.”

“He better start preparing.”

***

“When are you gonna just kiss her?!” Brock was exasperated.

“Shut up,” Elias mumbled, still concentrating on his phone as he typed a message to Svea.  

“Petey, no other girls exist in, like, your world besides Svea.  Can you just get it fucking done already?”

“Brock, shut up.”

“Uuuuuuuuaaaaarrrrggghhhhh!” Brock groaned loudly as he and Elias walked through the front doors of their hotel.  “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Go right ahead.”

Brock rolled his eyes.  Before he could say anything else, his phone began ringing from his pocket.  It was after the game, and judging by their routine now, he knew it was Grace.  He actually wondered if she was with Svea watching.  “There you are.  I was wondering when I’d get a call from you,” he said cheerily, not bothering with formalities.

He was met with silence on the other end.  Then, a sniffle.  She didn’t respond.  He could hear her breathing and sniffling on the other end, but she wasn’t saying anything.  “Grace?”

“Brock…he’s gone.”

Brock’s heart fell into the pit of his stomach.  He stopped walking and stood in the middle of the foyer, the world standing still around him.  He barely registered Elias stopping when he realized Brock wasn’t walking beside him anymore, and barely registered Elias looking over his shoulder with furrowed brows.  “Grace—”

“We were at the hospital.  He—he caught pneumonia somehow and it just—it just—”

“I’m on my way home right now,” Brock said quickly.  

“Brock—”

“I’m gonna get on the first flight out to Vancouver, I promise you.  I’m just at the hotel and I’m gonna pack and leave,” he explained.

“Please hurry,” her voice was desperate, full of sadness and grief.  

“I’m on my way.  I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Brock.  Please hurry.”

When Brock hung up the phone, he finally noticed Elias staring at him.  There were so, so many thoughts running through Brock’s mind – how he was going to tell Travis he wasn’t going to take the team charter flight home, how he was going to get to the airport, how he was going to get to Grace’s dad’s house or the hospital or wherever she was – but he was only able to verbalize one.   “I need you to call Svea and tell her to get in touch with Grace.”

“What happened?” Elias asked.

“Her dad just died.”

Elias’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.  But he immediately brought his phone up and swiped until he got Svea’s number.  “Go,” he urged, bringing his phone up to his ear.  “I’ll pack your things.  I’ll bring your bag.  Just grab your passport and go.”

***

Hamish’s viewing was busy.  He was a well-known figure in Vancouver, and so Grace had to host two days’ worth of viewings, with timeslots in the afternoon and evening.  Grace stood first, her two uncles (Hamish’s brothers and partners in the investment firm) Robbie and Owen Gillespie and their families after her.  Eliza, James, Jasper, and Theo sat alone in the third row – obviously not part of the “line”, but there to support Grace.  Hamish was Eliza’s ex-husband, after all, regardless of how nasty and bitter it got.  And he was her daughter’s father.  Brock sat alone in the second row, directly behind Grace.  Elias and Svea, when they were there – which was most of the time – were beside him, attending to Grace’s every need.  

The people wouldn’t stop coming.  There was constantly a line to pay respects and then greet Grace, Robbie, and Owen.  Brock could tell it was making Grace tired, greeting people she barely knew and shaking their hand and thanking them for their condolences.  It didn’t help that it was in the newspaper and on the night-time news, too – however brief the mention of it was, it still made more people aware, and Brock was sure they showed up even though they probably hadn’t seen Grace or Hamish in years.

The funeral was even worse.  Grace couldn’t stop crying.  She said her eulogy, and it was beautiful, and Owen said one too, but after that it was just constant tears.  After the church service, she clung to Brock, pulling him into the procession.  At the entombment, her cries were loud and continual.  Elias and Svea were crying at the final prayer before his casket was sealed.  

Brock tried to be strong – for Grace, of course – but he cried, too.

***

It was a few days – almost a week, really – until Brock saw Grace again.  There had to be meetings with lawyers and her uncles that Brock had no reason attending.  The money was already hers – everything was basically just a formality, as he understood it, like an official transfer over – but Brock knew she didn’t care about the money.  Grace wanted her dad.

Brock had barely sat down on the couch before she climbed onto his lap.  Her lips immediately found his and her tongue immediately slipped into his throat.  It was urgent.  It was hasty.  It was visceral, at least for Grace.

It was also wrong.

“Grace…” Brock mumbled, pulling away.

“Brock, c’mon,” she urged, continuing to kiss his strong jawline even though he turned away.  “I need you.  Touch me.”

“Grace—”

“Touch me,” she begged, grabbing his hands and leading them up her shirt.  

“Grace, no,” he said sternly, pulling his hands away now too.

She furrowed her brows at him, an obvious look of anger on her face at his denial.  Despite him knowing it was the right thing to do, Grace didn’t think so.  “You don’t want me?” she asked in a harsh tone.

“You know I want you.  I want you all the God damn time.  But I’m not gonna do it when you’re…emotionally compromised,” he tried to reason with her, even though he knew it would be a futile attempt.  “You don’t want this.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.  You just want to feel something right now.”

She looked at him indignantly.  “Fuck you, Brock Boeser,” she growled as she lifted herself off of his lap, grabbing her purse and slamming his front door without saying another word.  

***

There was a light knock at his door.  Brock knew it could only be one person.

When he opened it, he knew Grace would be standing on the other side.  What he wasn’t expecting was how she looked.  Hair that looked that it hadn’t been washed since the last time she was over.  Wearing clothes she’d obviously been wearing for days.  Dark circles under her eyes, which were puffy and red like they hadn’t stopped crying.  She looked defeat, frail, and crushed into a million different pieces Brock just wanted to pick up and piece together again.

“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of her mouth – practically squeaked out.  He wondered if she had a voice left.  Within seconds, he could see tears well in her eyes and spill down her cheeks like a flood.  “I just…I miss his more than my heart knows how to handle.”

Brock engulfed her in a hug, and she cried and cried and cried.

***

“I was in the hospital with him…and he was weak, but he could still speak a bit, and move too.  And I was holding his hand the entire time.  And I just wanted to be in bed with him like when I was a kid and had a nightmare.  And when I got in, I—well, when I was a kid, he’d hold me against his chest and I always remember how I could feel his heart beating, so I did that.  And he held my hand and before he fell asleep, he said ‘I love you Gracie.  I’ll be there.  I’ll be watching.’  And then that was it.”

Brock felt a tear escape his eye.  He let it fall as he began to shift his and Grace’s body’s so that he was lying on top of him, her head on his chest.  He felt her hand clutch at his bare skin briefly, and a wetness on his chest he knew were tears.  “Can you feel it?” he asked, referring to his heartbeat.

Grace nodded her head.  “Stay like this, please.”

Brock didn’t move an inch the entire night.

[swiftgronmasterpost]

GRYLES!!!

Rebuilding the Gryles Timeline expertly crafted here because I’m always afraid of broken links and people going private and losing data.

Not only is there a ton of great evidence that these guys were dating such as Harry leaving Nick’s place in the morning wearing the same clothes as he’d worn the night before, I’ve also got a friend who works in the UK music industry and she did tell me these guys did date.  Nick is 100% out as gay so it really does all add up.

Gryles very obviously takes place during Haylor, debunking Harry as the 1989 muse, and if it’s not Harry you do have to wonder... who with green eyes and an obsession with Alice and Wonderland was heavily featured in Taylor’s life and then disappeared before 1989 - a breakup album about someone with green eyes who seems to relate to Alice in Wonderland drops?

You get it.

Anyway here’s Gryles:

This is a little game I like to call "let's talk about Nick/Harry dates and how they line up with Harry leaving and entering the country".

06. February 5th 2012 - Harry and Nick go to a Super Bowl party together.

One Direction in Sweden February 12th - 14th. (Came home by train on the 14th.)

07. February 14, 2012 - VALENTINE'S DAY!

08. February 18, 2012 - Stella McCartney Fashion show with Nick's mom.

09. February 21, 2012 - Brit Awards!

10. February 22, 2012 - They attend a party together. (Nick might have been DJing?)

11. February 23, 2012 - Harry spotted leaving Nick Grimshaw's flat in the same outfit he was wearing the night before.

The morning of February 23rd One Direction flies to the US for their tour and doesn't return to the UK until April 24th, 2012.

This trip is supposedly where Haylor 1.0 happens.  Harry supposedly meets Taylor at the KCA’s on March 31 and they fall for one another.  Taylor supposedly goes to NYC to be with Harry (even though she spends the whole time with Dianna) during the first week of April.  Then they supposedly enter into a long distance relationship that is broken up because Harry was seen out with another girl.

All the while the last thing Harry does before he leaves the UK is spend the night with Nick and then the first thing he does is goes back to him.

Yeah, I’m not buying Haylor 1.0 it seems pretty clear to me that Taylor wanted to pin I Knew You Were Trouble on Harry as a big pop anthem to support her transition to pop.  I think it’s even possible they faked Harry being spotted out with that girl or perhaps he and Nick had some kind of agreement.  I’m not saying Gryles was always exclusive (they may have been), but regardless I don’t see Red era Taylor being cool enough to share her boyfriend with a man.

12. April 25, 2012 - Nick and Harry out together the morning after he returned.

Harry also calls into Nick's radio show on the 25th and confirms that the first thing he did upon returning on the 24th was meet up with Nick and Matt Fincham for drinks so one can theorize he probably crashed w/ Nick that night.

Harry goes to LA by himself on May 1st and returns to the UK on the 5th.

May 5th, 2012 - Harry out with Annie Mac and Nick. (Thanks to my anon for clueing me into this little gem of information.)

13. May 7th, 2012 - Harry and Nick out with friends

One Direction goes to Sweden from May 10th to May 16th.

14. May 17, 2012 - The Sun reports Harry driving Nick to work.

Also out shopping together

15. May 19, 2012 - Nick posts a picture to his instragram from the Kanye West/Jay Z show at the O2.

Who cares right? So he went to see a show. But then.

Hey guess what happened the very next day? One Direction flew to Boston on May 20th, 2012 to start their summer tour in the U.S. They're gone from the 20th to July 3rd.

16. July 5, 2012 - Nick and Harry attend the launch of Tinie Tempah's shoes line.

There's some downtime and vacation time here where Harry disappears for a week while Louis is France w/ Eleanor, Niall goes to Spain, Liam and Danielle are on vacation, etc and then One Direction goes back to work July 11th recording and doing photo shoots.

17. July 19, 2012 - Harry goes out with Nick and Aimee and tweets this.

18. August 10, 2012 - Harry attends Nick's 28th birthday party at La Bodega Negra.

Pregaming before the party!

Outside La Bodega Negra

19. August 11, 2012 - Primrose Hill picnic

20. August 20, 2012 - One Direction visit Nick at BBCR1 to announce their headlining of the BBC Radio 1 Teen Choice Awards.

21. August 25, 2012 -

Nick and Harry go to lunch. (Would also like to point out that they are switching places and that Harry is going to the driver's side of Nick's car :333)

and then to Reading Festival

then Nick accompanies Harry to Liam's party at Funky Buddha

and then they leave together and go see Rita Ora at G.A.Y.

22. August 26, 2012 - The morning after, Nick tweets a shot of his hangover breakfast from Harry's Range Rover (Nick owns a Mercedes).

then a lunch date with several people

They spend this entire day together and this is the day the pics of them in the grocery store  are taken where Nick buys Harry a banana, etc

and then Harry drops Nick off for his nighttime show and picks him up again to take him to/stay with him while Nick DJs at Wonderland nightclub.

(Although, lbr. Given what we learn from Nick's final nighttime show about how often Harry hung around the studio, he probably never left.)

Wonderland! (the only time that fucking song has any bearing on Harry and he’s off being a MLM king)

23. August 28, 2012 - Leaving Nick's flat

spotted in the studio w/ Nick at BBCR1

24. August 30, 2012 - Harry films the Breakfast Show advert for Nick's #Team Grimmy commercial and then they go to Mahiki Club that night.

25. August 31, 2012 - Harry goes with Nick to his DJ gig at Paradise

and then to karaoke afterward

The lo and behold One Direction flies to Florida the very next day to film their Pepsi commercial. They're gone until September 11th.

on September 6, 2012 Taylor has Sushi with Ed and Harry in LA supposedly signaling the start of Haylor 2.0 as if Harry is not fully boyfriends with Nick.

26. September 12, 2012 - Nick's final nighttime show. (this was a gif of them being cute and playing around but I was too lazy to bring it over, you get it they’re touchy, flirty, and playful):

Nick and Aimee go on vacation together from the 14th to the 18th.

27. September 18, 2012 - This dude says he spotted Harry Styles waiting in arrivals at the airport while waiting for his sister's flight to arrive insinuating perhaps Harry was traveling with Nick and Aimee:

28. September 20, 2012 - iTunes Festival where One Direction was interviewed by Nick and Annie Mac

29. Harry calls into Nick's first Breakfast Show on September 25, 2012. Then they meet up after to see Perks of Being a Wallflower together. I can't find the tweets from the ladies who saw them there, but Nick and Emma Watson confirm later that Harry was indeed there.

30. September 29, 2012 - Spotted at Waitrose together and then the following morning Nick regales his listeners with the tale of a Spinach pie he made for a ~friend~.

31. October 5th (or 6th?), 2012 - Preparation for Ladz FM

But also on October 5th, Taylor is on Nick’s show:

32. October 6, 2012 - Ladz FM

Supposedly on this show Nick gives Harry hell for Taylor, the Haylor timeline I like puts it this way:

“One Direction and Harry make an appearance on Nick’s show the following day, and they talk about Taylor on-air for 4 minutes straight. Nick teases Harry by saying “Ol’ Swiftyyyy” over and over again when she is brought up in the conversation.” Yup that’s right, Nick was giving his own boyfriend shit about his fake girlfriend 😭😭😭 this is why I fuck w Nick’s energy.

then they went for lunch in notting hill (no Taylor? why not Harry aren’t you so happy to be back with her and in love w her?)

33. October 7, 2012 - BBC Teen Choice Awards

One Direction doing promotion for the new album.

Paris - October 11, 2012

Ireland - October 12, 2012

Manchester - October 16, 2012

Leeds - October 17, 2012

34. October 19, 2012 - Lunch in London

October 31 - One Direction in Spain

Early November One Direction goes to the US for Ellen, X Factor USA, and The Today Show. After The Today Show Harry flies to LA while the rest of One Direction goes back to London. Harry writes a song with the lead singer of Snow Patrol and rumors start flying about him hooking up with Taylor Swift.

Harry arrives back in London on November 16, 2012.

35. November 16, 2012 - Children in Need benefit concert

November 30th One Direction goes back to the U.S. for one off shows and MSG show. Haylor happens.

Harry returns to London on December 8th via Taylor's private jet and plays the Jingle Ball with the rest of One Direction. Harry and Taylor tour the UK together until December 15th when Taylor leaves for France.  Meanwhile Dianna heads out on a mystery 14 hour long flight on December 14th.

36. December 16, 2012 - Roast Dinner!

One Direction returns to the U.S. for the X Factor USA finale. Harry stays in the U.S. and goes on a ski vacation with Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber, and Selena Gomez.

He returns to the UK on December 24th.

37. December 25, 2012 - Late night Christmas leftovers. (Yes they’re spending Christmas together, that’s boyfriend behavior!)

Harry and Nick both leave London on the 29th (Nick for Puerto Rico and Harry for NYC) Harry spends New Years with Taylor and Nick spends New Years with Pixie, Aimee, and the rest of the hipster crew. Harry and Taylor then fly to Gorda British Virgin Islands where they are supposed to vacation until the 7th. Taylor leaves on the 4th and Harry goes to Necker Island alone. Tabloids say Harry and Taylor have broken up.

And that’s it for Haylor!

Harry arrives back in the UK on January 8th

38. January 8, 2013 - Sushi lunch date! (tweet confirming nick was also there.)

and harry with the girl who tweeted it.

39. January 10, 2013 - Tinie Tempah's GQ dinner.

The party was for people on the British GQ best dressed list (Nick was on it. Harry was not.)

Jessie J puts a picture of the table cards from her table on instagram. Harry doesn't have one which, you know. I'll just be here imagining him as Nick's + 1.

One Direction fly to Ghana on the 12th or 13th and return on the 15th. On the 16th Harry calls into Grimmy’s show to talk about how Fincham DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A MEMBER OF ONE DIRECTION. Finchy asks Harry when he’s back and Harry says “in a couple of days”. (Small side note here that I don’t think Finchy and Harry are at the level of friends where they keep track of one another’s schedules so the only way Finchy could have known that Harry was heading back out of town to Japan that very day is if Nick told him.)

One Direction in Japan from January 16th to the 20th.

I'm not going to count this as a time they were together because I have no hard evidence, but the night of January 20th Harry was spotted in a grocery store buying wine and Annie Mac mentions on her show that Nick ditched coming over for dinner that evening to have a friend round to his house instead. We assume it was Harry, but w/o actual proof I don't want to say it concretely.

40. January 21, 2013 - Baking for Radio 1! (Tweet confirming the friend was Harry.)

Nick tells this story the morning of the 22nd about how he forgot he had to bake, so he got up from bed, went to the store for supplies, and forgot eggs. So, he texted his friend who was coming over to bring eggs and then Nick baked while his friend yelled at him to add more butter.

41. January 22, 2013 - Watching Great British Bake Off

Do what you will with this one. Obviously there is not definite way to tell if this is Harry or not, but given the evidence of the amount of time they spend together that has been laid forth thus far, I feel comfortable saying those are indeed Harry's legs.

42. January 31, 2013 - Out for Harry's birthday at La Bodega Negra (the same place they celebrated Nick's birthday.)

Nick also went to Groucho Club afterward with Harry and mentioned on his show this morning that he hadn't slept at all. (He was still wearing the same outfit.)

43. February 1, 2013 - Aimee tweets about being in the car with Nick en route to play Laser Quest. (Can't imagine who they might be playing with.)

Nick tweeted this :)

Never

Getting

Over

This

February 19, 2013 - PreBrit Awards Dinner Hosted by Nick!

THEIR SMILEY LITTLE FACES. :3

Legit SHARING A TAXI ON THE WAY HOME

2/20/13 - At the Brit Awards together!

Leaving an after party!

taking a cab to Nick's house so Nick can change for work

hands hands hands

At Nick's flat

 2/21/13 - On The Breakfast show the morning after the Brits!

Harry on The Breakfast Show!

2/23/2013 - Nick attends One Direction's first show at the O2 in London

THE DROUGHT IS OVER!!!

8/21/2013 - Nick interviews Harry, Zayn, and Liam for TBS

Then Nick and Harry hook up later for dinner.

September 12, 2013

Harry gets off the plane from LAX, gets on the tube and meets Nick at an Elton John concert

Harry and Nick's dad at the concert, posted to Nick's instagram.

September 13, 2013

This person says they saw nick and Harry at Apartment 58 (members only club) together

https://twitter.com/LightbownL/status/378610145271771136

But, Sadie Frost also posted a picture of her and Nick getting ready to go out for LFW with no mention of Harry, so the tweet could be false facts.

But then! September 14, 2013

Sadie posts this picture of Nick sleeping on her sofa

Followed by this picture of Harry posing with her daughter

And then Nick and Harry went to Henry Hollands show at LFW together

Then to a pub with Gemma, Kelly Osborn and others

Then to dinner with James Corden and his wife

September 15, 2013

September 17, 2013 - Fashion Show East in London

November 9, 2013 - Breakfast with Anne and Robin at the Wolseley.

So Anne tweeted this in the morning. You can see the Wolseley logo at the top of the plate.

Then this girl got a pic with Harry at the Wolseley during his breakfast with Anne and Robin.

and she confirmed that Nick was eating with them https://twitter.com/alexandra_imper/status/400204985222193152

Then off to Selfridges to shop!

At Alexa Chung's birthday party!

November 10, 2013 - Ladz instagram and Aimee Phillips birthday party!

LADZ VIDEO!

November 30, 2013

Harry playing with Puppy at Nick's house.

Poppy Delevingne's hen party!

Leaving Groucho club.

December 1, 2013

Primrose Hill lighting ceremony!

Nick with Daisy Lowe and his dad!

Then this girl met Nick

https://twitter.com/rpcheald/status/407224559687852032/photo/1

and saw Harry

https://twitter.com/rpcheald/status/407209332858552320

Class of '92 movie premiere

Nick and his dad on the red carpet

Harry meeting Beckham!

December 4, 2013 - London Fashion Awards

February 17, 2014 - Taking a random taxi ride?????

and leaving Nick's flat

March 29, 2014

Sleepover at Harry's house!

Nick posted this on instagram

http://instagram.com/p/mHpTBdPJyt/

At the time we weren't sure it was Harry's drive but...

https://twitter.com/cuppanarryx/status/481310537817399296/photo/1

Hiya, doggie.

Also Nick's tweet from the morning after just because.

https://twitter.com/grimmers/status/449814322399940609

May 24, 2014 - Radio 1's Big Weekend

May 28, 2014 - Barry's BC London

And link to post about the other tweets x

June 8, 2014

Nick attends One Directions show at Wembley Stadium.

June 12, 2014

Harry at Nick driving around London in a Ferrari.

and another tweet about the Ferarri sighting.

https://twitter.com/ItsJustMikey/status/477133631602065408

Then later that evening Harry went to Nick's for his World Cup barbecue and fans took pics with Harry outside Nick's house.

[halfway-happyyy]

The one where Alexander takes his girl home to Sweden

First longer piece in a hot minute! inspired by this lovely ask. Thanks for looking, and as always feedback is always appreciated. 

“They'd like to meet you, kid.”

Silence followed his statement and her bleary gaze travelled upwards to a patch of dust particles dancing in a strip of light from the parted bedroom curtain. She knew immediately who he was referring to, but that didn't mean she had to make it easy for him.

“You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that, Alex. The list of people who'd like to meet me is long and painfully distinguished.”

Alexander nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, the subtle scruff of his beard ticklish against her delicate skin. His exasperated groan was almost inaudible. “My family, smart-ass.”

There it was.

Grace had known that this conversation was coming soon; it loomed above her head like a raincloud. She could sense it in the way he spoke of Sweden recently, could sense it in the way his ocean-blue eyes lit up at the mere mention of his brothers and sister. God, even just the idea of it was almost too intimidating to bear. Where she had come from a small, slightly broken family, he had been born into an inexplicably close and loving one. Though each of them led vastly different lives in vastly different areas of the world, they gathered amongst themselves in the beautiful country of Sweden multiple times throughout the year, and it would always be home base for him. She found the notion of it wonderful and jealousy-inducing in equal measure. She traced a feather-light fingertip down the bridge of his nose and marveled at the subtle flecks of gold amongst a sea of blue. Of all the things that she adored about his face, the deep creases next to his eyes were her favourite. They spoke novels of how much time the man spent smiling and the thought of it caused her heart to swell. “Your family doesn’t want to meet me, Alex. You want your family to meet me.” She murmured, finally.

Alexander clicked his tongue in mild protest. “That’s not true.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, brushing each of her knuckles with his lips. The warmth and sheer intimacy of the touch caused her to shiver violently and he grinned against her hand. Brushing a stray piece of hair from her face, he gazed at her for a while and finally whispered, “Come to Sweden with me, Grace.”

And partly because his soft voice bore the weight of recent sleep- but mostly because she always did have a particularly difficult time saying no to him, she squeezed his hand thrice and nodded her head. “Okay Alex.”

~

“We’re here, kid.” Alexander’s lips at her temple helped to rouse her from her gravol-induced coma and she hugged her sweater tighter to her frame as the temperature of the plane became apparent to her. He stood from his seat and stretched his arms high above his head to limber up after the lengthy flight. Opening the overhead compartment with ease, he brought down her carry-on and a single, worn duffle bag- the only piece of luggage he ever traveled with, and smiled expectantly at her. “You all set?”

Grace stifled a yawn and nodded her head, a slow, sleepy smile in place on her features. “Lead the way, my love.” She had expected a certain amount of fanfare upon exit of the terminal- she could not recount a time in recent memory where there had not been a fury of cameras and photographers upon arrival. Strangely, and most welcomely, Arlanda airport was completely void of both.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Alexander grinned.

She struggled to keep up with his hasty stride though the terminals- something she lovingly referred to as his airport walk. “It’s lovely.” She mused.

It was late into the evening when they finished grabbing her bag from the carousel and stepped out into the balmy Stockholm evening. Alexander’s brother Sam was already waiting for them a few cars ahead in the cue, leant against the side of a dark sedan, one long, denim-clad leg crossed over the other. “Hej hej!” He called out to them and stood from the car to wrap his arms around Alexander. They parted a few moments later, laughing at something indistinguishable. “Good to see you again, brother.” Sam beamed. “And you must be Grace…” He turned to her; a long pair of arms beckoned her forward for an embrace which she happily obliged. She was amused to discover that like Alexander, she needed to reach on tiptoes to hug the younger Skarsgård properly. She had known them to be a tall breed of men, but this? Sam broke away to gesture to the vehicle with a toothy grin. “Let’s get you two home, hm? Mum can’t wait another hour longer.”

Though the inky evening sky cloaked all of Stockholm in darkness, Grace was in utter awe of the city in which she was currently being given a rapid grand-tour of. Alexander pointed out important buildings on his left, and Sam managed to cover everything on the right side of the vehicle. She remained dazzled by the bright, twinkling lights, and was amazed at how breathtaking the city was at night. “Just wait until tomorrow, Grace.” Sam glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror and grinned.

“We’re here, my love.” Alexander uttered for the second time that evening, as the vehicle rolled to a halt in front of their mother’s house in the south of the city. A quick glance at the clock above the car radio told her that it was just past twelve thirty in the morning, and she was surprised to see My wide awake and waiting on the porch for them. Grace swallowed hard and found that her mouth was suddenly void of all moisture, nerves churning in her belly like clothing in a washing machine. Sensing the sudden shift in her mood, Alexander exited the car and came around to her side, opening the door and crouching down to her level. “Look at me kid.” He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing her slightly clammy palm. “No need to be nervous, hm? They’re going to love you.”

Taking a deep breath, Grace smiled down at him and ventured around to the boot of the car where Sam was in the process of hauling out their luggage. “Can I help you with those?” She offered.

Sam shook his head, that same boyish grin from an hour ago still split his face in two. “Nah, there’s not much here,” He gestured over to his mother with a jut of his chin. “Besides, she’s been waiting weeks to see you both. Go on.”

Alexander waited for her at the bottom of the stone path, his hand outstretched and poised to take hers. They traversed the path together, the warmth from his hand radiated into hers and helped to calm her frayed nerves immensely. “Hi mum.” Alexander grinned when they reached her.

My’s beautiful face broke into a wide grin and Grace knew right then that Sam had come by that wonderful smile honestly. Their mother, confusingly short in comparison to her two sons, reached up on tiptoes to cradle Alexander’s face in her hands and kiss both of his cheeks passionately. He reveled in her touch, but when his time was up, he stood back to make room for Grace. My embraced her exactly as she had her son, and though she could most certainly attribute it to impending jet lag, a lump of raw emotion rose in the hollow of her throat as My kissed her cheeks. She pulled back and gave Grace's arms a warm squeeze. “So happy to finally have you both here. Please, come in.”

Once situated inside the cozy, utterly lived-in home, Grace immediately felt the tension dissipate from her limbs. On her way back to the living room after putting away her belongings in the spare room, she found herself stopped in awe in the hallway. Pictures of the family adorned almost every square inch of wall space, and inexplicably, Grace's throat constricted and she felt the familiar prickle of tears behind her eyes again.

“There you are,” Alexander smiled when he spotted her. Wordlessly, he settled beside her and reached for her hand, bringing the back of it to his lips. “You okay, kid?”

She turned to him, saltwater glittering threateningly in the depths of her eyes, and smiled. “There's so much love here, Alex.” She trailed a finger over the edge of a wooden picture frame. The photograph inside depicted six beautiful, smiling children, each of varying ages. “It's so palpable. It's in the very air we breathe right now… like magic.” Alexander hummed contentedly and bent forward to kiss the top of her head. “I want a home like this someday…” She mused.

Alexander squeezed her hand thrice and placed another kiss to the top of her head. “Someday you will.”

After a midnight snack of lingonberry jam and toast and a glass of wine to wind down from the day’s events, Grace drifted off to sleep on Alexander’s shoulder at the kitchen table. She had fought it for as long as her body would let her, but the calming lilt of muted conversation in their native tongue caused her eyelids to grow increasingly heavy until they eventually gave in to slumber altogether. Alexander must have carried her to their room, because when her eyes opened six and a half hours later, she was tucked up in the guestroom bed. Her desire to move had been nonexistent until the scent of coffee and fresh pastries found her, and her mouth watered hungrily for them. Stretching her arms above her head, she stifled a yawn and shivered as her bare feet touched the cool, hardwood flooring. She took a few moments to study the room in which she would be spending the next two weeks. The walls were washed in a pale, robins-egg blue and with an unexpected pang, it reminded her of her grandparent’s guest room in their old house back home. She gazed at the folk artwork adorning the walls, and at the wicker furniture dispersed around the room and she decided then that this could be her home for rest of her life, and she wouldn't complain one bit about it. Changing into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, she threw a knit cardigan over her exposed arms and padded out into the hallway outside her door. She hadn't meant for it to happen, but she stopped again in front of the dozens of picture frames and gazed at them for a long while.

Grace peered at a black and white photograph of Alexander as a child, grinning wide and standing tall above a younger looking My. “And just imagine that he ended being arguably the most attractive one out of all of us.” A beautiful voice, utterly melodic as it flowed from her mouth- bore a teasing lilt and caused Grace to startle on the spot.

She glanced over at the woman next to her, a spitting image of her mother, she had seen photos of her face several times in the past, but nothing could prepare her for the natural beauty that Alexander’s sister possessed. It was ethereal- like sunshine through a glass window and Grace smiled at her. “No, I doubt anyone would argue with me if I said that you won that one hands down.”

Eija tilted her head back as laughter bubbled up from the base of her throat like a pretty song. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Grace.” They chatted contentedly for the next few minutes before the allure of coffee and food became too strong, and Eija escorted Grace to the kitchen. Alexander was seated at the end of the wooden table, arms crossed over his t shirt clad chest, and in deep conversation with Sam. “How do you take your coffee, Grace?” Eija asked and reached on tiptoes for a mug at the back of the open cupboard.

“Uh, black please,” Grace could not make out what was being said, but the tone of her boyfriend’s voice had changed drastically over the course of only a few seconds and she frowned. “Are they arguing?” She whispered.

Eija dropped back onto the balls of her feet and shook her head no, her ruby-red lips quirked up into a half-smirk. “No. But they are talking politics.” She set to work brewing what to Grace, smelled like the world’s best cup of coffee and winked at her, her glassy blue eyes glittering mischievously in the bright, sunlit kitchen. “Just wait until dinner tonight… we are a large, highly opinionated family and there is plenty more where that came from.”

Grace's day had been so packed with activity that she had hardly been allotted moment to agonize over the looming family dinner. She knew deep down that there was nothing to be nervous about- that she intended on spending the rest of her life with Alexander, and that if she was lucky enough, his family would become her family too. But there was a lot of them, and the pressure to make a good impression weighed heavily on her. “You okay over there?” Alexander sidled up behind her in front of the full-length guest room mirror, resting his chin atop her head. “You’ve got your 'over-thinking-everything' face on.” She frowned back at him. “It’s still the most beautiful face in the world, kid. But I’ve known you far too long now to know when something’s on your mind.”  

She cocked her head to the side and gazed at him. She couldn't pin-point exactly when the change had occured, but she could read his face like her favourite book now. Knew where scars had started, knew the precise location of dustings of freckles. She knew what to say to make him smile, what to say to make him frown. Somehow, the stars had aligned, and she had met him and now here she was, in his home country, moments away from meeting the entirety of his family. She took a deep, steadying breath and tilted her face up to kiss the underside of his stubbled jaw. “I love you Alex.”

“I love you endlessly, Grace.”

She had been slightly taken aback at the lack of distance that existed between Alexander’s parents’ houses. She had known that they had been able to remain better friends than ever after the divorce but living within walking distance of each other seemed unheard of to Grace. Perhaps that was because her parents could hardly manage a simple hello to each other after the dust had settled.

Stellan Skarsgård’s silhouette- stark against the bright light emanating from the house behind him, stood leant against the front pillar of his porch, a full glass of red wine wedged within his grasp, which he lifted in greeting when he caught site of the emerging clan. He embraced Alexander, Eija, and My as if it was the last time he would ever have the chance to do it again, and when his gaze fell on Grace’s, he handed his wine to Alexander and pulled her in for a near-crushing embrace. When he drew back, he was absolutely beaming at her. “Grace, it is an absolute pleasure to finally put a face to the name that our Alex here, has spoken novels of. Please, come in and make yourself at home.” It was an undeniably busy house, chock-full of intentional laughter, bits and pieces of Swedish conversation, and the enticing scent of a mouth-watering feast. Grace was sat wedged between Alexander and Valter at the dinner table and was awed at how much the youngest of the boys resembled Eija, and she was surprised to note that his sass rivalled hers as well. Once the chatter had dwindled to a level white noise, Stellan rose from his seat at the head of the table and cleared his throat. “Ehm, I don’t normally make these kinds of announcements before a dinner, but tonight is a special one.” He gestured with his near-empty glass to Grace, and she felt her cheeks burn hot under the sudden onslaught of attention. “Tonight, we drink to good health, we drink to family, and we drink to our lovely, newfound Grace. Cheers, everyone.”

“Cheers to you, my love.” Alexander whispered and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Grace ate until she could not fathom scooping one more morsel of delicious food onto her plate, and she leaned back and took a deep breath, all too content to watch everyone converse and unwind from the wonderful meal they had all just experienced. After dessert, Alexander excused himself to join a heated debate at the end of the table with Eija and Valter. To her surprise, Stellan took the empty seat next to her, wordlessly topping up her empty glass. “My and I worked hard to teach them everything they know,” He murmured, blue gaze scanning the happy faces around him. “We tried to instill in them as children to question everything- and each one of them has become perspicacious, opinionated, conversationalists because of it.”

The way he spoke of his children- the obvious love and adoration he had for them caused Grace’s heart to swell in her chest and she smiled softly at him. “You both must be so proud of them.”

Stellan’s eyes twinkled in the low light of the lamps scattered around the dining room and he nodded his head slowly. “Very proud. Always.” He took another sip of his wine and turned to Grace. “I know I mentioned it already this evening but having you here in Sweden really is such a treat for all of us,” Grace’s cheeks grew pink again and she took another hearty sip of wine, savoring the slighty bitter tannin on her tongue before she swallowed, and offered him up a small smile. “Alex is an extraordinary creature, Grace. Loud and boisterous- and deeply sensitive. Almost to a fault. But humor and compassion for other people beyond all measure. Just the absolute best parts of his mother and I,” He finished off the rest of his glass and set it against the wooden tabletop with a dull thud. “He’s never brought a partner home to Sweden before, and I can’t help but be elated that it’s you he’s chosen to bring to us.”

Grace verged the edge of speechless at the sudden revelation and she swallowed hard, the kind words almost too much to comprehend. “The pleasure has been all mine, truly.” Before getting up to leave, Stellan bent down to her level and pressed a quick kiss to the apple of her cheek.

Alexander appeared next to Grace an hour later, the apples of his cheeks rosy from happiness, and the wine consumed. "Come dance with me."

Grace had just finished an in-depth conversation with Eija and cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Right now?”

He nodded his head, his sandy blonde hair disheveled now and hanging over an eye. “Yes, right now.” He extended a hand out for her to take, which she obliged, hesitantly. He led her to a second room off the one they had just been in, and a record player sat playing on a glass table in the corner.

“Your lips are stained purple with syrah,” She giggled.

Alexander brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you having a good night, kid?”

Grace smiled and rested her cheek against his chest as they swayed along to a Bob Dylan song in the background. She reveled in the heat emanating from him, and in the familiar feeling of his heartbeat against her cheek. “I’m having a wonderful night, Alex. Sweden- your family, are a dream.” The opening chords to Girl from the North Country could be heard above the crackle of the record player, and Grace gazed up at Alexander from under enviously long lashes. “God, I love this song,” She murmured wistfully. “Hope to dance to it my wedding someday.”

Alexander held her tighter to him, oblivious to Stellan and My who were now stood side by side and watching them from the other room. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle earnestly, knowing that one day soon he would be making that dream a reality. “Someday you will, Grace.”

@awaterfalls

[puckinghell]

Meet The Family | Elias Pettersson (drabble)

This was born out of a conversation with @hockeyboysiguess about Elias having nice hands and Thanksgiving dinners. But I’m not American so we’re turning it into Christmas. Not proofread we die like men and I’m in 4 g&t’s. Enjoy.

--

“You seem nervous,” Elias states, eyes fixed on the road and hands loosely wrapped around the wheel. “More nervous than me.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and you can’t help but feel slightly annoyed.

It’s not that he’s wrong, it’s just that you really hoped you wouldn’t have to tell him beforehand.

“It’s nothing bad,” you answer. You toy with your bracelet, that Elias gave you as an early Christmas present. Your quiet voice and constant fidgeting probably doesn’t fortify your statement, because Elias glances over at you now, just for a few seconds, before returning his attention to the traffic around you again.

“Are you worried they won’t like me?” he asks. It’s casual, but the kinda faux-casual that you can see straight through.

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Elias can’t go home for Christmas, not all the way to Sweden. And after three months of dating - and a few months of friendship before that - it doesn’t feel like too soon, for him to meet your family.

He was excited, when you asked him to come to your family gathering. Every year your entire family meets at your parents’ house; siblings and nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles, even a few family pets. And you were excited too. Elias, well, you’ve known he’s the one for you since the day you met him, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s going to be in your life for a long time. So why not introduce him to your family?

But now doubt is starting to set in.

Elias frowns at your words. “The opposite? What does that mean?”

But there’s really no way to explain. And anyway, you’re almost there.

“You’ll see,” you say, and it sounds more omnious than you wanted it to.

--

The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you walk up to the front door, Elias trailing just a step behind you. You reach blindly behind you and instantly his hand grabs onto yours, squeezing tightly before letting go just as you step into the house.

Noise welcomes you. There’s happy chatter and Christmas music in the background; a kid is yelling and someone laughs. It’s warm and there’s lights everywhere and it feels so much like home that a wave of nostalgia hits you.

“Who is it?” a familiar voice calls, and before you can answer your mom appears in the door to the hallway, where you’re still stomping the snow off your boots.

“Hey, mom.”

Your mom’s smile remains intact when her eyes fall upon the tall Swede behind you, but her widening eyes don’t do well to hide her surprise. Neither, to be fair, does the: “Oh my God honey she brought Elias!”

Elias’ eyebrows shoot up and you can’t stop the groan from escaping as your mom completely ignores your existence, simply speedwalks back into the living room, where all the chatter has suddenly died down.

“I thought you told her I was coming,” Elias says, the question clear in his voice.

And you were supposed to, but…

“I just kinda didn’t wanna deal with all the questions,” you admit. You take Elias’ coat and hang it together with yours, before taking a deep breath in. “I’ll try to protect you, okay?”

If his eyebrows could get any higher you’re sure it would’ve happened, but instead Elias just continues to look slightly baffled as you take his hand and pull him into the living room, where many pairs of eyes are already fixed on you.

The silence is deafening.

“Hey guys,” you smile, letting your eyes travel over the attendees. The only one that’s moving is your dog Bella, tail wagging as she gets up to go say hello. “This is my boyfriend, Elias.”

Everything happens very quickly, then.

Before you know it, your boyfriend is swarmed by family members, some of whom seem to have magically conjured up some sort of Canucks merch for him to sign. Your cousins are screaming their heads off, jumping up and down at his feet, and your sister is taking pictures of it all with an enthusiasm you haven’t seen from her in years.

Over the crowd, Elias’ eyes frantically search for yours.

Sorry, you mouth, shrugging your shoulders. This was exactly the thing that you were afraid of.

When you told Elias your family are lifelong Canucks fans, you might’ve neglected to tell him just how much.

But to be fair to him, Elias takes it in stride. You know he’s not a big fan of crowds of people, nor of people he doesn’t know. Your family speaks in too rapid English, leaving Elias looking a little bewildered. Well, to you anyway; to any other person he’d look completely fine, stoic and unbothered, but you know him well enough to recognize the tight set of his jaw.

It gets better once the adults have gone back to their conversations. Your aunt is telling you about her pottery class when your eyes find Elias through the window, out on the lawn.

He’s surrounded by all your cousins, ministicks in hand. Every time one of the kids bats a ball his way, Elias blatantly misses it, then pretends to be upset about it while the kids scream with laughter.

Your face must’ve spoken for you, because your aunt cuts herself off midway through her story.

“He’s good with kids,” she smiles, gaze traveling to the scene you’re focused on. “I think he prefers them to us old guys.”

You laugh. “I’m sure he’ll love you when he gets to know you. There’s just a lot of you right now, and I think dad is embarrassing himself.”

Considering the fact that your dad is now wearing a signed Pettersson jersey, that might even be putting it lightly.

Outside, Elias squads down next to one of your nieces. He covers her tiny hand with his large one, carefully moving it so she’s holding her stick in a more comfortable position. He says something and she laughs, little eyes shining with delight.

“You really like him,” your aunt states, and she’s not asking but you answer her anyway.

“I love him, yeah.”

--

It’s hours later when you walk into the kitchen, getting a glass of water, that you find your boyfriend again.

The kids have long gone to bed but it seems that Elias has found another small creature to befriend. He’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the fridge with a glass of red wine in his hands, quietly feeding Bella pieces of turkey.

“Bonding with the best member of the family?” It’s a joke but there’s a genuine question in it too and Elias seems to be able to tell, a gentle smile on his face as he pats the floor next to him.

You go easily, pressing your body against his. He’s warm and his cheeks are slightly flushed, although the red wine might have had something to do with that too.

“Trying to find some peace and quiet,” Elias muses, tearing off another piece of turkey that Bella happily accepts. “Since my girlfriend left me to fend for myself.”

Now you’re blushing, and it has nothing to do with the wine.

“I didn’t want it to seem like I was surveiling you,” you admit a little sheepishly. “Figured you would come find me if it got too much.”

Elias laughs. It sounds bright in the quiet kitchen, the background noise from the living room suddenly very far away. “I can deal with it.”

“I know.” And you do; it’s the only reason you dared to bring him here in the first place. Elias might not be the most extraverted person in the world, but he’s very good with people when he wants to be. You let your head fall against his shoulder. Tiredness is settling in your body, after a night catching up with everyone.

“I’m sorry if it was too much. They can get very overwhelming, even for me, and they’re not even your family, so…”

“They’re your family, though,” Elias interrupts, voice soft. “And that means that one day they hopefully will be mine, too. So it’s okay. It’s good, even.”

Your chest feels strangely warm at his words; you knew you felt like that, but to hear him say he feels it too is a whole different level of amazing.

“But,” Elias hums, and you can tell from the switch in his tone of voice that he’s gonna say something  cheeky, “if you would like to thank me for being the source of entertainment tonight I can think of a few things.”

You laugh, letting your hand travel to his thigh and rest there. “I can think of some things too,” you tease, “but none that are acceptable in my parents’ kitchen.”

Elias’ eyes darken slightly. “Maybe it’s time to go home then,” he says, and he doesn’t even remotely sound like he’s kidding.

This time when you laugh you bury your face in his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there. “Not yet,” you tell him, “but if you can refrain from beating my dad to death with the hockey stick he’s surely gonna ask you to sign, I might make it worth your while later tonight.”

The groan that falls from Elias’ lips rumbles in his chest.

You might be getting out of there quicker than originally anticipated. 

[sapphirelass]

What family is all about - Weasley FamilyxWeasley!Sister

Hiiiiiii!!! It’s... been a while. Again. Let’s face it, I’ll never be able to post as often as I’d like. I just don’t like rushing stuff, or posting anything I’m not happy with, so...

Anyhow, I LOVED writing for the Weasley family, and I’ll most likely do it again soon. Bill and Charlie are both underrated characters in my opinion and I had a ton of fun letting them ‘shine’ (despite this being a sort of sad story, but that always seems to be where I end up... XD)

Also, I might have to edit this once more, but it’s late, I have not posted in about two weeks and I just want to go to sleep XD That being said, take it for what it is, and I’ll try to correct any grammatical errors later. Good night! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: ≈ 2800 (they just keep getting longer, don’t they? XD)

Warnings: Light swearing, blood, angst

Enjoy! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s what family is all about 

“How big did his tongue get?”

“It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!”

The sound of laughter was heard from the kitchen as Elwira Weasley entered her childhood home. She worked as an arithmancer, and had been stationed at a research-facility in the northern parts of Sweden for the past few years. Her work took up most of her time, but she had just travelled home to go see the quidditch final with her dad, older brother Bill, twin brother Charlie and all their younger siblings.

“It isn’t funny”, her dad shouted. “That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard-muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of muggles, and my own sons-”

“Are just a wee bit too daft to understand that!”

She walked through the door and found her entire family, plus two other people she didn’t know, all sitting or standing around the kitchen table.

“Ellie?!”

Her older brother and twin, with whom she had always been extremely close, both made their way across the room and pulled her into a hug so tight she could barely breathe.

“Blimey! ‘ello Bill, hey Charlie! Long time no see, huh?”

“Certainly!”, their mother exclaimed while pushing the two oldest sons to the side as she tried to get a good look at her grown-up daughter. “Not a single visit since Christmas, Elwira Weasley, we’ve had to do with owls for six months?!”

“Sorry, mum, there’s been a lot of work to do… I thought I’d stay for the rest of the summer though, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, dear! Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I’m famished!”

Mrs Weasley went off to get another plate, and Ellie, after greeting everyone and being introduced to Harry and Hermione, took a seat between her dad and youngest brother.

“So Ronald? Had a good term?”

“Err.. Sure? Nothing interesting except for the stuff I wrote to you about, though.”

“Well you’re going into your fourth year now - almost halfway through!” She paused for a moment and turned to her father. “You good dad? You seem a bit… tense?”

Arthur looked up from his plate and sent his daughter a kind smile.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. Hosting the world cup comes with a great deal of problems all with the need to be solved. Admittedly, it’s not really part of my job, but the entire ministry becomes quite chaotic when something like that is days away. I’m a bit stressed, that’s all. How are things up in Scandinavia?”

“They’re… somewhat slow to be honest. There’s so much work to do between like October and February, but in the summer it’s mostly filing and other boring bits of paperwork.”

“Elwira?”, Hermione asked. “Sorry, I’m just curious, what is it that you do? Ron’s never told us…”

“That’s probably cause Ron doesn’t understand what I’m doing”, she smirked, “but of course, I work with, and study, arithmancy which, as you might know, is part of what’s called ‘natural magic’.”

“Great!”, mumbled Ron quietly, making sure only his friends and older sister heard. “Hermione, there are four rules in this house, okay? One: Don’t ask Charlie about dragons, Two: Don’t ask Percy about anything, Three: Don’t ask dad about muggles, and Four: Don’t ask Ellie about her job. Break either and you’ll be stuck listening to a five hour lecture.”

 Hermione didn’t seem to be bored though, so Ellie ignored her brother’s comment and continued. 

“It’s the type of magic that has been studied and worshiped since ancient times and has a very strong connection with nature. The natural phenomena with the strongest affiliation with magic is, while they in themselves have what the muggles would call a ‘scientific explanation’, the northern lights. Meaning it’s only when they’re visible that we can make any significant progress.”

Ellie paused and glanced at the younger girl, trying to see whether she had caught on or not, and was happy when realizing that she had.

“And... “, questioned Hermione, “the northern lights are only visible north of the polar circle and b-”

“Between September and March, exactly… Meaning there’s sadly not that much advanced research that can be done during the rest of the year…”

“It’s still a fascinating subject though. I only started last year, but I love it.”

“I’m glad! At least some people appreciate the wonderful art that is arithmancy, Ronald!”

Ron looked up at the mention of his name and met his sister’s gaze. 

“I just don’t find it interesting”, he said.  

“Right, because you ha-”

Ellie didn’t get to finish her sentence before being interrupted by her twin brother.

“Hey, Ellie? Must have been fun watching the Nordic versus Germany, huh?”

“Oh shut up, Charlie!”, she groaned while putting her head in her hands. “Holy Merlin…” The Nordic National Quidditch team, of which she had become a huge supporter in the last few years, had suffered a HORRENDOUS loss against Germany, and it had certainly not been a fun night. 

Her brother, however, did not shut up, but instead burst out laughing.  

“Charlie, it’s not funny!! You should have been there though… You’d have done a much better job than the stand-in seeker we had.”

“What were the results again? 700-20?”

“... 520 actually”

“520 to??”, Bill said mockingly

“You’re idiots both of you… 520-0, happy now?”

Ellie hadn’t realized that everyone else around the table had been listening in on their conversation, but was made aware when Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Arthur began laughing loudly.

“Why is this so funny to everyone? England lost badly too, and neither Romania nor Egypt even qualified to compete?!”

“Yeah...”, began Fred.

“But none of them lost with 520 points.”, finished George, earning himself a furious look from his older sister who stood up and shook her head.

“I’ll go see if mum needs any help…”

~~~~~~

Ellie loved her family, and therefore all her slightly annoying brothers, beyond everything, but being away from them for months and then meeting them all at the same time was TIRING! Having no desire to sleep through the world cup, she decided to go to bed early the night before, and she had barely closed her eyes before she fell asleep...

~~~~~~

“3, 2 ‘shhhh, quiet!”

Ellie took notice of the obnoxiously loud whispers, but it wasn’t enough to fully wake her up.

“We’ve got one more chance, 3, 2, 1, ELLIE!!!!”

She woke up instantly and sent a blast of blue sparks towards her older brother, barely missing him by an inch.

“What ‘ru doing, El? You can’t just go attacking people?!”

He tried to sound angry, but failed miserably, a heartwarming laugh escaping his mouth.

“You bloody idiots?! Why’d you scare me like that? You’re 21 and 23, not five?”

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it? Do you remember-”

“Yes, I do!”. She rubbed her eyes slowly, “‘85, look can you two please let me sleep?”

“Sorry, sis”, said Bill. “We’re leaving in half an hour. The kids and dad left ages ago.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to be late do you? Not when you can cheer for a team that might not loo-”

“Charlie, I swear!”

~~~~~~

The match was fantastic! Ellie would never admit it to her brothers, but it was nice to watch an even one for once. Watching and cheering with her family brought back fond memories of childhood games at the Burrow or Hogwarts, and she realized just how much she had missed actually playing. They stayed up late discussing players and tactics, but eventually their father ushered them all off to bed. 

~~~~~~

“Ellie?”

“Ellie??”

She stirred slightly and pulled the sleeping bag tighter around her.

“Ellie! Damn it, wake up!”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw her twin brother bent above her. The sight made her sigh.

“Charlie”, she mumbled. “We see each other once- or twice a year nowadays, do you really feel obligated to wake me up every time you get the chance?”

“Elwira, I’m serious! Get up!”

This caught her attention. Sure, the twins often used their full names when messing with each other, but it didn’t sound like Charlie was joking at all. She sat up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned loudly.

“What’s going on? Wha- Charlie? It’s still dark out? Why’d yo-”

“Ellie, c’mon. We have to help dad. Someone’s attacking the muggles.”

He threw his sister a jacket and pulled her out of the tent. Arthur, Bill and Percy were all waiting outside.

“Dad?”, she asked. “What’s happening? Charlie sai-”

“We’ve got to help the ministry!”, he said while frantically trying to count everyone and make sure they were there. “Fred, George, you make sure the others are safe. Go wait in the woods and I’ll come for you when the situation’s under control. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ellie, let’s see if there’s something we can do.”

Nobody questioned Mr Weasley’s instructions, and immediately left in different directions. There were people everywhere though, and the two directions quickly became three, four, six. Spells and curses were fired left, right and centre and Ellie found herself disarming and stunning at least a few death eaters. There weren’t that many of them, roughly thirty or so, but the insane amount of witches and wizards fleeing the campsite made it difficult to fight back. She couldn’t risk hitting any random bloke.

While duelling a tall man in a black mask, Ellie suddenly stumbled forward, a particularly nasty curse having hit her straight in the back. Falling to the ground felt way more painful than it should have, and her wand landed well beyond her reach. She groaned as a burning pain spread through her lower back, but made an effort to get back up anyways. She did, however, not make it very far before the sharp end of a wand dug into her throat.

The death eater behind her sniggered and pulled her up by the collar of her shirt.

“Well, well, well… Why’re you trying to ruin our fun?”

He stood way too close for comfort and Ellie felt his breath on her neck. She tried to answer, but the curse that was shot at her must have hit its intended target, as all that came out when she opened her mouth was a strained cough and warm blood.

The bloke holding her let out a dark chuckle and threw her to the ground. She could barely keep her eyes open, and a thick, red liquid oozed from the wound in her back.

“Not so high-and-mighty now, are we?”

Ellie lacked the strength to fight back, and to the death eaters that seemed to take all the fun out of the situation. They set off back towards the campsite, leaving Ellie on the ground next to a few pines. She tried her very best to sit up, but ended up passing out…

~~~~~~

“Charlie?!”

Bill ran up to his younger brother and pulled him in for a quick, one-armed hug.

“Charlie, you okay? We’ve got to get back to the tent. Where’s El?”

“Wha-, I-I thought she was with you?!?”

“What? Last I saw her you were together?”

The brothers shared a lock of utter terror.

“Bill, we have to find her!”

“I know… Dad went to get the kids and Percy’s back in the tent waiting.”

“There’s no time to waste then. Let’s go”

~~~~~~

They had been running around the camping grounds for half an hour, and there was still not a trace of a living soul - let alone the special one they were searching for. At first, they had been shouting her name at the top of their lungs, but were now walking silently. That was, at least, until a shout made both of them turn around.

“Bill! Charlie! What are you doing? I told you to stay in the tent?”

Arthur Weasley came running towards them, with Harry, Ron and Hermione following close behind.

“Dad!”, Charlie shouted. “Have you seen El? We can’t find her?”

“What?”, asked Arthur. “But she was with you, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, at first, but we must have gotten separated… Dad, is that? You know?”

He threw a dark glance at the skull and snake decorating the night sky and said, “Yes. Yes it is. Look, I’ll take Ron, Hermione and Harry back to the tent, and I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes, okay? Don’t go too far. Come on kids!”

~~~~~~

Just as the brothers were about to give up, go back to the clearing, wait for their dad and hopefully find both their sisters safe and sound, Bill noticed something. A glimpse of red in the moonlight…

“Charlie? Get over here fast!”

The younger brother followed Bill’s gaze and immediately set off through the forest when his eyes found a mess of ginger hair sticking out from behind a rather large pine. Bill followed closely behind.

“ELLIE!!!?!!”

Charlie stumbled to his knees and turned his sister around, trying to get a better look at her. He pressed his hand to her wrist and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse.

“She’s alive”, he mumbled. “Bill, she’s alive!”

“Good. I- Good.” Bill was lost for words too and mumbled a quick “Let me see”.

He pushed some hair out of her eyes and searched for any clues to what had hit her. He was a curse-breaker after all, but that usually meant working with curses placed on things or places, not people. 

“Charlie, I-I don’t know what that is… it’s not a curse I’m familiar with and I’m no healer… You want to carry her?”

“Of course”

Charlie brought his twin into his arms and picked her up, her bruised, limp body threatening to fall unless he held on tight enough. The brothers walked back to the clearing where they’d promised to meet their dad, but kept a close watch on their sister. They would apparate, though at the moment none of them felt like they had much time for ‘Deliberation’. It wasn’t very far anyways.

~~~~~~

“DAD!”, Bill shouted as soon as they noticed Arthur in the clearing where they were supposed to wait.

“Boys! Didn’t I tell you t-”

“We’ll take that later, Dad, you’ve got to help her!?”

Arthur Weasley was speechless, which had most likely never happened before, and Charlie felt so helpless. This was worse than his worst nightmares, and there was nothing he could do. Had it been a wounded dragon, sure, he knew loads about them, but this?

“Dad?”, asked Bill. “What can we do?”

“Right. Er… I suppose there’s no use trying to get you to wait here?”, he said while looking at Charlie who frantically shook his head. “Right, Bill could you go back to Percy and the kids? Fill them in on what happened? Then Charlie and I’ll take Ellie to St Mungos, okay?”

Bill didn’t look too happy with the idea, but nodded nonetheless.

---

“Charlie sit down!”

“Fred, he can’t”, said George. “Hey, I think you missed a spot over there, Charles”

“Shut it both of you! Honestly, why am I the only one that’s worried?”

Arthur stood up and put an arm around his son.

“Listen, we’re all worried, but walking back and forth isn’t helping anyone. Just sit for a moment, huh?”

“No, dad, you don’t understand! It’s my fault. We were supposed to stick together! I let her out of my sight...I-”

“Charlie, we all-”

“No, Bill, you don’t get it either, I should-”

“-let your sister sleep for once? That’d be greatly appreciated, thank you.”

The entire family turned at once, and found the oldest daughter struggling to sit up.

“EL!!”

Charlie stumbled over and put a hand on his sister’s back, trying to help her up, but unfortunately placing it right where the curse had hit her.

“Auch!”

She moved away from his touch and he pulled his hand back immediately.

“Blimey, Ellie I’m so s-”

“Charlie, it’s good. Don’t worry about it.”

Ellie pulled her brother into a hug, though he was now extremely careful, and she looked over his shoulder at the rest of her family. Her eyes met Bill’s and he sent her a kind smile. She gestured for him to come join them, and eventually the whole family found themselves in a loving group hug. Molly did her very best to wrap her arms around all her children, desperately trying to convince herself that they were all there - safe and sound and loved. 

Because if there was one thing the Weasleys had a lot of, it was love and that is, after all, precisely what family is all about.

~ L

Masterlist

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (7/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains mentions of character death and descriptions of past child and domestic abuse.

Word count for this chapter: 4.9k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 7: Emma Swan, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

Emma's senses register very slowly. She first realizes the guy is tasting like rum, and then that he's already pushed her, gently, back.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss," he says and looks slowly up at her. "I have a girlfriend."

"Shit. Sorry."

"'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That. Thank you again."

Relieving her bladder and splashing cool water on her face bring her a bit back to Earth. Did she just try to make out with a stranger – one who apparently is taken – because he gave her his turn to the bathroom?

She looks at herself in the mirror. Somehow, though she splashed water on her face while completely forgetting she has make-up on, it has stayed intact, not even a single smudge from running mascara.

She may be drunk off her ass, but she's a good-looking drunk. She smiles at her reflection.

She straightens her back and prepares to unlock the bathroom door when a loud, sharp BANG erupts from outside. The music is still loud inside the club, but Emma can hear people screaming.

Her hand freezes over the key. A shooting?

Some long seconds pass by before a second BANG is heard – and with that, a man screaming. She looks at the window. It's too high to see outside, but it still carries the sounds pretty clear. The people inside are screaming in fear. The man outside is screaming in pain.

Finding some composure, Emma takes her hand away. There's a mop in the corner, and she takes it in her hands. It's not much of a weapon in this situation, but it's better than nothing.

Eventually, the screaming calms down and Emma hears ambulance sirens. By now some people have gotten out, so it's too loud to hear if the probably injured man is still there, or even alive.

A loud bang on the bathroom door and it's Emma's time to scream.

"NYPD! Are you alright in there?"

Emma unlocks the door and opens it. An officer with a bulletproof vest on is looking at her, gun at the holster.

Her alibi provided by locking herself in the bathroom – and the two surprisingly sober people who were waiting outside – is solid, so she's the very first to be allowed to leave. She learns that someone shot a woman in the chest, killing her almost instantly, then shot a man in the hand. She's advised to be careful and not stay alone, but it's not as if she has someone to accompany her.

However, she immediately finds a cab, having a smooth ride to her hostel.

She hears about the shooting on the news the next day, when she gets back to Boston. There are no leads about the killer, though they say he didn't act alone. The injured man is in no danger, but he was a couple with the deceased woman.

The guy she kissed... he mentioned having a girlfriend. And she didn't see him anywhere around after the shots – though she doesn't really have a perfectly clear memory of how he looked like.

Tears fill Emma's eyes. She wants to blame them on the thought that the chance of losing people she loves just like that is another reason why she isn't opening up to anyone, but it just doesn't feel a good enough justification for her crying.

She doesn't want to be cooped up in her apartment for her twenty-eighth birthday, but without any company her main choice is clubbing, and the memories of hearing the shots and the man screaming in pain are too raw, so she contents herself with blowing a candle on a single cupcake with the audacious wish to not be alone.

Tired from a busy workday, she lies in bed, checking her phone one last time. She sees Ingrid has contacted her on Facebook, and she stares at her phone for three minutes straight, having a hard time believing it.

Ingrid says she has been trying to get a visa for years now, but her criminal record especially regarding entering the country had been a big hindrance. A few days ago, her application for a 90-days visa was accepted, and she's asking Emma if it's okay to come see her.

Emma all but bursts out in sobs. She only decided to make a Facebook account a week ago, but Ingrid has been trying to get in contact with her for years, even though she knew there was a chance she may never be allowed in the country again.

She realizes she's too emotional to answer her now, and there's still a part of her that may regret the elated "Yes!" she wants to send back. She turns her phone off and sleeps on that thought.

Her emotions are still reeling from the possibility of seeing Ingrid again, finding out why she'd immigrated illegally in the first place, how she's been doing all this time... how much she's been thinking of Emma. But she still tells her yes, providing Ingrid stays in a hotel and not with Emma. At least not yet.

Ingrid arrives only a week later. Half of Emma wants to meet her at their designated rendezvous the next afternoon; the other half wants to greet her at the airport, perhaps even give her a lift to her hotel. It's the same half that feels guilty she didn't offer her to stay at her place.

The second half wins this round. From the distance, Ingrid looks exhausted and much older than Emma had expected her to look, but when she spots Emma her whole face lights up and she nearly drops her bags.

Fuck it. Who cares anymore. Emma runs to her and hugs her tight, and at once she's eleven and has just learned that that wonderful person is adopting her and giving her a forever, loving home.

"I'm so sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry for everything."

Emma is already crying, and so is Ingrid. Even in the arrivals section that's full of people reuniting, they look out of place. Emma feels a surge of cold when Ingrid pulls back a little, but Ingrid just places her hands on the sides of Emma's face and stares at her.

"Emma, Emma." Her voice is shaking. "You're all grown up. And I wasn't there for it."

"Shut up." Emma hugs her again, knowing that people are starting to stare now, but she doesn't care.

"I should have been more careful... you shouldn't have been left alone like that."

"It was because of my lost passport, wasn't it?" Emma pulls back, but she's not angry, and she's careful to not let Ingrid misunderstand. "When we contacted the embassy in England, to get me new papers so that I could travel back, they looked into your case."

Ingrid nods. "It's not your fault, honey. I should have... I..." She sighs. "I've got so much I want to tell you, and I can't get it out!"

"It's okay. It's okay. How long are you staying?"

Ingrid sniffles, wiping away her tears. "I haven't bought return tickets – yet. I can stay eighty more days, though, as long as my ESTA lasts. That's why I contacted you right as I got it, and why I came so soon. I didn't want to miss any day I could have spent here."

Eighty days. But then she'll have to go back. "Then there's enough time. Come. I'll drive you home."

"Home? Emma-"

"Nope. Forget the hotel. You're staying with me."

The next day, after Ingrid has had her rest and Emma has made them hot cocoa – her mug with cinnamon, Ingrid's neat – Ingrid begins her story.

"At first it was five of us. My parents, me, and my two younger sisters, Helga and Gerda. I might have been the oldest, but my love for my father had blinded me. I thought it was normal to get a beating for every little mistake we made. For every time the food wasn't tasty enough, for every time the house wasn't clean enough. He never did any housework himself, but he demanded it was kept pristine. Otherwise, he would hit us.

"My mother was an only child, her parents died before we were born. Our extended family was all on my father's side, and of course, most of them were just like him. It took me years to even consider that what was happening to me wasn't normal, or okay. Both of my father's brothers were policemen. Both their wives were miserable and distant, in every family gathering I can remember them at. Both of them disappeared at some point. I later learned that the one was dead, probably by her husband's hand. The other one had escaped him and fled the country.

"I got that idea myself before I even learned about her. I thought that, when I would turn eighteen, I'd have enough pull to take my mother and my sisters away, and somehow keep us safe."

Her face turns pensive.

"I didn't get the chance. My mother died one month before I turned eighteen. I panicked, I knew for sure that it was my father, making sure we'd never leave, and I was right, and his plan worked. I blacked out, got depressed. And he got worse. With three women to burst out on instead of four, the beatings got more often, and more serious. I ended up in the hospital three times. Helga and Gerda, once each. And every time, the cop who would ask us if our father ever acted on any 'suspicious' behaviour would be a friend of one of our uncles. We couldn't say anything.

"Until I woke up. That time is... hard." She sighs, the memory clearly upsetting her. "I don't remember much of it. I just remember father beating Gerda badly. She was only sixteen." She shakes her head.

Emma wants to tell her that details aren't necessary, but she knows Ingrid needs to let some of that out.

"I grabbed an old radio and hit him in the head. At the time, I thought I'd killed him. Me and Helga picked up Gerda and ran. We managed to hide for a few days, taking care of Gerda's wounds until she could walk and run, and then we tried to cross to Sweden. They found us... we had been wanted for assault and murder attempt. Murder attempt! We were running, and Helga tripped. Gerda wanted to go back for her, but Helga screamed for us to run. And then they shot."

She covers her face with her hand, and Emma's tears fall.

After a long silence, Ingrid continues. "I knew Gerda was running with me, but I barely felt her presence there. We managed to cross the border, but none of us felt any relief. For three months we were in the streets, pick-pocketing, eating off of garbage, shoplifting a few times..."

Emma looks away. Like mother, like daughter?

"Then we found someone who promised us fake passports. He promised us safe passage to the United States. At the time, it was like a gift from God, Emma. But I made Gerda swear not to follow me if they caught me. But I passed over safely. It was Gerda who was caught."

Emma's jaw drops.

Ingrid smiles. "She was okay. She was deported back to Sweden, and I don't know how she made it, but she did. She got married and had two beautiful girls, her Elsa and Anna. But all those years, until I was deported to Norway, I had no idea..."

"Your father?"

"He died four years after we left. I didn't even care to find out how. I've mostly been in Sweden all this time, reconnecting with Gerda."

"I'm so glad you found her."

Ingrid nods. "When I came here, my contact actually managed to find me a job and someone to teach me English, good enough to pass for a local. I worked hard, stayed in horrible apartments... but you know, it was the '80s. The more time passed, the better it got. I supported fundraisers for domestic abuse victims. I let victims stay in my tiny apartments until they found a safe space. And never... I could never share my full story." Her voice breaks. She sniffles, recovers, and continues. "But I wanted more. I wanted to help someone, and see for myself that they did well. Emma... you were not an experiment, I want you to know. I loved you, and I still do. I wanted you to be happy, I wanted you to have what I didn't have." Her voice breaks again. "And I messed that up. I left you alone, you had nothing, no-one... I failed you."

Emma shakes her head, more tears falling. "You tried. And yes, it sucked. But you changed my life. You have no idea how big it was, how better you made my life because you were there for me. I don't know where I would be if it weren't for you."

They're both crying now, and Emma is the first to hug her.

It takes time. Emma isn't ready to share everything that's happened to her, but she's still glad to have Ingrid back and know she had a very good reason for the things that eventually led to Emma being alone. And, after all, she did search for her. That's huge.

"My aunt, the one who had 'disappeared', found me a little after I was brought back and helped me. We didn't even know each other that well, but we knew each other's pain. A little more than a year after that I located Gerda. With my father and most of the side of his family dead, at least the older ones who shared his stance, it was easier to search around. I couldn't leave the country yet, so Gerda took her family and visited me in Norway." Her eyes tear up again.

What could it have been like, to not have heard from her in nearly twenty years, not knowing if she was dead or alive...

"It was... okay. But I still thought of you. I didn't know what I could do, I was nearly broke for years after I went back. It's only the past four years that I managed to make some money, and all of them were being saved for this exact trip. I will come visit you again, Emma. I don't know how soon I'll be allowed back, but I'll try my hardest. I know you don't need me anymore-"

"I do. I missed you. You have no idea how much."

She smiles sadly. "Perhaps I've got a clue."

She does stay eighty days, which go by way too fast, even with Emma using up her sick and vacation days to spend time with her.

It's the first time since Ingrid was deported that Emma has someone to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with. It's even bigger for her, considering that Ingrid chose Emma and didn't go back to celebrate with her family.

January goes by too fast, and then Ingrid has to leave.

"I'll visit you in Norway first chance I get. I want to meet your family, too."

"The rest of my family," Ingrid says. "I will wait for you. I'm not perfect with Facebook, but I'll try to keep contact every day."

"Ask Elsa, or maybe even Anna, to teach you next time you meet. They're teenagers, they'll know."

And then she has to say goodbye, and it's too soon, but for the very, very first time, it's a goodbye she gets to say. And it's amazing, how less painful it is, now that it's out there with the promise of a reunion.

The next morning she takes an early walk before work and finds a ten dollar bill on the street.

She looks at it dumbfounded. It's the first time in probably ten years this has happened, and when she walks into her favourite coffee shop, she's still staring at the bill in her hand.

She has a coffee and a big piece of cake, courtesy of the found bill. As she's enjoying her treat, a young woman with bright red streaks in her brown hair sits on the chair across from Emma as if she was just invited to do so.

"Hi," she says all too casually. "Don't freak out, there's just this guy I'm trying to catch and it'll look less suspicious if I pretend to sit with company here." Her tone, facial expressions and hand movements are full in the game.

"What do you mean, 'catch'?"

The woman leans forward. "I'm a bail bond agent. There's a guy I'm trying to catch, and I got word that he comes into this coffee shop quite often. I'm just trying to- speak of the devil." Without changing her expression a bit, she tells Emma, "Don't turn around. He just got in."

"Is he dangerous?" Emma shivers.

"No, no, he was just arrested for some tax fraud." The woman's expression turns serious. "Are you alright?"

Emma's hands are shaking, and the question is out before she can consider it. "Is he gonna be armed?"

"I don't think so. In any case, stay down."

That's it, Emma thinks. The shooting in New York City. Emma lowers her head and leans it a little to the side, managing to get one small glimpse of someone walking towards them.

"Is that him?" Emma says.

"Yes!" the woman says excitedly, exaggerating for cover.

Then the man is right next to her.

"Excuse me," he says, and Emma bites her lip as she looks up at him. "I don't remember seeing you around here. Are you a new customer?"

Emma holds back her surprise. Is he trying to hit on her?

She just shrugs.

The man offers his hand. "My name's Walsh," he says.

"Damn right it is," the other woman says, and with a swift movement of her hand, a handcuff is placed around his wrist.

Walsh looks at them both like an idiot.

"Thanks for making my job so much easier," the woman tells him. "And thank you, too." She winks at Emma, then takes a handcuffed Walsh outside.

Emma sighs, staring at her coffee and half-eaten cake as her heartbeat returns to normal. She knows that this very reaction is different from her panic at first. She turns to see the woman push Walsh into the backseat of a car.

Emma smiles. That was actually exciting.

Her boss is lost in thought all day, so Emma's shift goes pretty smoothly, as boring as retail is. On her way home from work, she walks past a police station and runs into the woman from that morning.

"Oh," the woman says, smiling wide at Emma. "My good luck charm!"

"Your what?"

"You have no idea how long I've been trying to catch that Walsh guy. He may not have any serious felonies under his belt, but he's elusive as hell. And I got a pretty good bonus for him too."

"Oh. Sounds good."

"And it's all thanks to you! Come on, would you like a drink?"

Emma stares at her.

"Oh, no, not in that way," she says and laughs. "Just as a thank you for your help." Her smile is earnest now.

"I didn't do anything."

"You brought me luck. That's worthy enough of at least one beer. And you behaved very bravely at the sight of a potentially dangerous criminal. I think you deserve a relaxing night out."

Normally, Emma can't afford such relaxing nights out. And the woman seems nice. "Okay," she says.

"Great! My name's Ruby, by the way. I know a place around with the best homemade onion rings."

Emma's mouth waters. Ruby has no idea what she just unleashed. She only hopes she can restrain herself in front of her favourite snack.

Ruby is really fun and kind. She doesn't ask any too deep questions that might provoke painful answers, and Emma has one of the best nights out in a while.

She realizes that, not counting her little time with Ingrid the past three months, she hasn't actually had a girls' night out. Not as an adult, at least.

"I'm not kidding, though, when I say you were pretty brave with Walsh. Some people freak out completely. Not that that's bad, but..." she says and looks at Emma, raising her eyebrows.

"But?"

"You know, there are never enough bail bond agents out there. Especially in a city as big as this."

Emma lies in bed that night, mind too full of thoughts to sleep. Ruby went through all the details of her work, and Emma absorbed it all. But, she has done time – not that she felt ready to confess this to Ruby.

She may have the guts to do that job, but probably not the ideal past for it.

Two weeks later, she's outside that same police station waiting to go with Ruby for drinks. Perhaps it's time to talk to her about whether her past would pose a problem to her becoming a bail bond agent.

She thinks she sees it too late; a car, losing control and going straight for the pregnant woman a few steps away from her.

Emma doesn't think; she runs forward, somehow manages to gently push the pregnant woman aside and then jump onto the running car's hood, rolling over the roof and down onto the street.

People are running to them. A man is shouting someone's name, worried. Then Ruby kneels down next to Emma.

"Emma! Are you alright?"

She is. She didn't even scrape her palms while falling down. She stands up, moving every limb and checking for any pains.

"Is it the adrenaline?" Emma says. "I feel fine!"

"You must be the luckiest chick on Earth," the car's driver says, also checking her for any injuries.

"You... you pushed my wife aside," a man says, coming closer to her, side-hugging the apparently unharmed pregnant woman.

"I- I did that."

The woman steps forward and hugs Emma tight. Then suddenly, people around them are clapping. Clapping at her.

She does go into a bit of a shock; David Nolan, the expectant father, takes her to the hospital to check her out for any internal injuries. Mary Margaret Nolan, the expectant mother, sits next to her on the back seat, holds her hand, and can't stop thanking Emma again and again.

Ruby is in the passenger's seat, talking to David, and it's only then that Emma realizes they're in a police cruiser, siren on and all.

After a full examination Emma turns out to be fine – not a single bruise. Once again, hearing the good news, Mary Margaret pulls her into a squeezing hug.

Encouraged by her unusually good luck, Emma tells Ruby about having done time. Ruby just tells her that David owes her big.

And by a week later, she's a bail bond agent.

Next month, she's staring at her bank balance, unable to comprehend having so much money available to spend however she likes.

At this rate, she'll be able to afford a trip to Norway in less than three months. And she does. She sees Ingrid, meets her sister and nieces, and for the first time since Neal left her she allows herself to just relax and enjoy the moment.

It's still not easy. Gerda's English isn't the best, and more than a few times Emma assumes Gerda doesn't like her, and her heart nearly breaks. It takes a lot of reassurance from Ingrid, but by the time Emma has to get back, she's already friends on Facebook with Elsa – Gerda says that Anna will get an account after turning eighteen as well – and they all promise each other that they will meet like that again.

On her flight back Emma gets a window seat facing north and gets a stunning view of the aurora. She hears the flight attendants say how they've never had sighting of it in the very few hours of dark the north gets in the middle of summer.

Emma can hardly believe it. How did luck decide to be so nice to her?

She can't even imagine something sullying her trip, but as she thinks that, she starts worrying that her bad luck will strike again.

It doesn't. Her job goes well, she gets a better apartment with a much kinder landlady, Ruby becomes her first friend in years and David and Mary Margaret invite her for dinner every Sunday, despite having a very loud and time-consuming infant.

The baby is always sleeping soundly every time Emma visits, and when he does wake up he's  calm, surprisingly so according to his parents.

Emma lies in her new bed, on her brand new anatomical mattress, and thinks how it all started because she found that ten dollar bill on the street – the first of many that came later, if she's honest – and decided to treat herself that morning.

As luck would have it. Perhaps it was all a matter of positive thinking.

She grows closer to Ruby and the Nolans and, combined with Ingrid's surprise visit, her twenty-ninth birthday is the first in twelve years that she doesn't celebrate alone.

She starts crying when they sing her the Happy Birthday song. Against all odds, her wish from last year actually came true, in the most unexpectedly heart-warming way.

From that point on, it's only better and better apartments and all holidays spent with either friends in the States or family in Norway.

During one more return trip, she realizes how she can actually afford all these trips now; a dream she couldn't even imagine before.

Her thirtieth birthday is celebrated in Norway; her thirty-first, back in the States, and for her thirty-second, she decides to gift herself and Ingrid something they'll both love; tickets to the Scorpions' 50th Anniversary Tour in Maidstone, England.

Ingrid tries to stop Emma from paying both their plane tickets, but Emma is not having it.

A small part of her remembers what happened after their first and last trip to England, but it's too small a part to stop her from organizing the whole trip.

If Emma is honest, it's one hundred percent Ingrid's fault that Emma loves the band so much. It's one of the things she passed on to her without even trying.

The concert is amazing; even though they have first row tickets, they have lots of space to dance and jump and enjoy the whole concert.

After the concert is over, Emma is waiting for Ingrid a bit farther away from the portable toilets, when she hears someone humming the melody of No One Like You next to her.

"Catchy tune, huh?" she tells him.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he answers. "What a night."

Emma nods. He's definitely a local. "Did you have fun?"

He makes a grimace. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my... friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh, sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach."

Emma realizes she had almost everything on her, including her passport. But everything in her belt bag is intact.

"Do you have a ride back home?"

He looks at her, and his expression turns shocked for a moment. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

"I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He seems to recoil a bit, raising his hand to scratch behind his ear before putting it back inside his jacket pocket. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh." Emma pauses. "I don't even know where that is."

The man smiles. "Figured so. From your accent."

Emma smiles back. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he says, getting his hand out of the pocket and shaking hers. She barely notices that his other hand stays in the other pocket even after his right hand drops to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she says, checking her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in- What?"

He is staring at her with his jaw dropped. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma sighs happily, looking back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones." She then turns to him. "Does your birthday seem promising?"

He looks at her; his eyes and his smile soften. And she actually feels butterflies in her stomach.

Wow. It's not like she's been denying herself much, but this look... she takes a step forward before she realizes it.

And he leans towards her.

"It seems that way, aye," he says, still smiling.

Oh, damn him. They both close the distance between them, and his lips are on hers.

~

(A/N: It has happened! They have officially met! Rejoice! But prepare for the next chapter; you know what's coming. Emma spent those four years being lucky, so Killian... >:)

Also, Scorpions did have a concert in Maidstone in 2015 as part of their 50th Anniversary Tour. It took place in July, but I took some creative liberties with the date for this story ;)  )

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Rebecca Ferguson interview for CRASH Magazine (September 2020) - translation from French 

AB: You'll be starring in Dune which comes out at the end of this year. Everyone is eager to find out. How did you join this project?

RF: I had a meeting with Denis Villeneuve, the director. I find his work amazing and it was a dream to work with him. His films are always a feast for the eyes.

AB: This film is eagerly awaited, especially by the many fans of the books and the entire Dune universe. Do you feel a certain pressure not to disappoint the audience?

RF: I never feel pressure from the fans. It’s not my job. I have a lot of respect for them and want them to enjoy our work, but I can't please all the people who will go see the film and form their opinions. I remember Tom Cruise saying that everything he does, he does for the fans. I love it when people validate our work but to be honest I love what I do. I love creating a character, the incredible costumes, the make-up. And then work with the best in the world. If the film falters, at least I would have appreciated it. And then I like having conversations with people who don't necessarily agree with the film, it's interesting.

AB: I imagine you must have done a lot of research to prepare for this role.

RF: Oh my god, the whole universe of Dune is so hard to understand. I still barely understand it, even after the shoot. Why are we doing this? Where should I go? Who should I trust? (laughs) So yeah, I did a lot of research. Denis also did all of his own research that I could lean on. The make-up artist was a veritable well of knowledge and stories. And then Jacqueline West, the costume designer, compared our clothes to paintings, from the Renaissance, to Cubism, etc. I barely knew what she was talking about. I just smile. I was working with the experts from the experts. So I hope that at least some things have been achieved.

AB: You are going to shoot additional scenes soon?

RF: Yes, we're going on the set in August...

AB: How long have you lived in Sweden?

RF: I was born in Sweden and have lived there all my life. Then I moved to England a year and a half ago but I divide my time between my small fishing village and London.

AB: Is it important for you to have a foothold in Sweden?

RF: Yes, I have a thirteen year old son who lives there with his father. We're all very close so it's important for me to be where he is. We all travel together, we are a bit like a circus family. (laughs) My son goes to school and it was important not to break his habits and his circle of friends. Thirteen is an important age. With his father and his mother-in-law, we travel together as much as possible and we meet for the holidays. We make it work.

AB: What was your first encounter with cinema?

RF: I don't know how old I was anymore but I remember that when Beauty and the Beast came out in the cinema, I was scared but I still went to see it. I was upset because I was in love with the Beast and when he transformed into what everyone considered to be the perfect man, I found his new face not as alluring as his monster appearance. I wanted him to stay the Beast.

AB: When did you first consider being an actress?

RF: The funny thing is when I was young I never thought I would be an actress. I was fifteen or sixteen when I was taken to play in a series in Sweden. Before, I didn't like being on stage; I never took acting lessons in school. I was in a music school. I didn't have a lot of dreams or career plans. I was one of those kids who did what they were told to do. You have to go to school, do this, do that. You know the song; we call it the school system. Then when I was asked to do this casting for this show, I was terrified. I got the part and that's when my interest in acting started. I realized there was a world in which to hide. I could play characters without having to take responsibility for their actions... and apparently people thought I was good. Good enough to continue anyway.

AB: How did you find yourself participating in this casting?

RF: My mother had decided that I was going to model, even though I don't have the size or the body you would expect from a model. I ended up in a file called “normal people”. (laughs) I didn’t get a single job; it didn't suit me. My sister is a catwalk model so she knows how to do it. Me? Not at all. So I was on their file and I was constantly turning down jobs, I didn't want to do it. Then a casting agency was looking for an actress for this series having already selected the actors who would play her father and her mother. They flipped through model portfolios and then they found me.

AB: How did this first experience go? I saw that you had to act in several episodes a day.

RF: Yes, two and a half episodes a day. It was intense but I was thrown into a world I knew nothing about. I was a blank canvas. I had no expectations and didn't question how it worked. It made me realize that I love to work hard with imposed deadlines. I like to be thrown into difficult situations. It all happened naturally and I took this route.

AB: What was it like seeing yourself for the first time on TV?

RF: There is nothing natural about it. I remember that for the first episode in the series, my mother decided to have a big party with lots of guests. I was more excited about the evening than the rest and when the countdown to the screening started I remember feeling nauseous. I hid behind the sofa. It was very embarrassing. But on the other hand, I thought it was cool. It was a whole new situation, a new world open to me.

AB: After your debut in this Nya Tider series, did you take a break or did you continue to work non-stop?

RF: We actually shot for six months and then we had six months free. My stepfather at the time had the good idea to ask the production to hire me for the remaining six months. As I had left school, that meant I was employed full time, as an actress but also set manager, publicity assistant and everything the production needed when we weren't shooting. I learned everything behind the scenes, I was able to help with the script and the media part. It was the best job I had and it helped me understand the process better when I got back to shooting.

AB: What project did you work on next?

RF: Nothing happened for quite a while because it was a local show - I played a character that everyone associated me with. People recognized me and it was hard for some directors to see me in another role. Then a director called Richard Hobert offered me the lead role in his film “A One Way to Antibes”. It was my first role in the movies and from there I was able to meet agents. It was my gateway to the big screen.

AB: You then got the lead role in the BBC series “The White Queen”. Were you a fan of British television?

RF: Yes, my mother is English so I grew up watching UK programs. Yes Minister, Cracker ... there has been so much British TV in my life that this BBC production was perfect for my entry into the big leagues. This casting process has been probably the most exhilarating of my career. The racing heart, the hope, the doubt, the disappointment ... an emotional lift that I finally won.

AB: What doors have “The White Queen” opened to you?

RF: A lot. First of all, I was nominated for a Golden Globe in the “Best Actress in a Miniseries or Television Film” category which is crazy. I remember being nominated alongside Helen Mirren, Helena Bonham Carter, Elisabeth Moss, who won for her role in Top of the Lake. I was in the same room with people I admired a lot. I always felt like the little Swede who had no place in this extraordinary world. But “The White Queen” has caused meetings and a lot of castings. “A One-Way Trip to Antibes” gave me the opportunity to find an agent in London and the first casting I tried was for “The White Queen”. It was lucky but I also worked hard for this role.

AB: How do you manage the castings in general? Are you still anxious?

RF: At the beginning, everything revolves around castings and meetings. In fact no, before that there are the videos that you make yourself. You have to find monologues, film yourself with your best friend, your boyfriend or your mother. After that, it's the castings. We do so much and it goes very quickly. Sometimes there is a big blockbuster and they are looking for an actress at the last minute. There you are at the restaurant and you have to run to the toilet, grab your phone and do something. You have to prove yourself by putting forward a certain trait of your personality to stand out among the four hundred thousand people who try their luck. I've always liked going to castings. A lot of people I met there were great and understood the horror of the situation. They made me feel relaxed. Again, I would throw myself into situations without giving it much thought and hoping someone would notice me. If that doesn't work, you have to move on.

AB: Are there any mentors that you have met throughout your career?

RF: Yes, Veronica St Clair was my coach in Sweden. After playing on the show, I missed the end of my schooling so I couldn't go to college. I would have started from scratch. But I had worked for two years in nurseries, restaurants, supermarkets, etc. I had left home and was living an adult life at a young age. I saved some money to pay for my personal development classes which helped me better express myself and improvise. I also contacted film schools who still needed free actors for their end of year films. I've done a lot, I don't know how many student films. I took what I could take. Veronica was unbelievable, she did so much for me. She has prepared me for many challenges. But at one point, we have the chance to stop casting. We make appointments. The dynamics are changing. It's not just about pleasing a director anymore, we have to like the project too, that it brings us something.

AB: It becomes a conversation.

RF: Yes. Can this film stimulate me? Is the project right for me?

AB: At what point in your career have you felt your opinion was as important as pleasing a director?

RF: After Mission Impossible.

AB: How did the casting go for this film?

RF: I was filming a miniseries called “The Red Tent” for Lifetime. Tom told me he noticed me on “The White Queen”. It's a funny story from their side because they had auditioned a lot of women without being able to find the right one. They had already considered me for the role, but I didn’t make a good enough impression for them to stop casting. (laughs) Then they had to do it again because the chosen person didn't suit. They are very careful and don't say too much when they tell these stories. I always wanted to know who the other woman was. (laughs) Finally, resuming the auditions, they decided to give me my chance. I was in Morocco, sitting on the camel Nicole Kidman had used for the movie “Queen of the Desert”. They called me to tell me that Tom Cruise wanted to meet me. They wanted to see if I could fight. It was quite surreal. They brought in the stunt teams who created the choreography. I realized I loved it. I could use my dance knowledge, which I have been practicing from a young age. They were very good martial arts trainers. And then I ended up getting the part.

AB: How did you appropriate the character of Ilsa Faust?

RF: I don't feel like I appropriated it honestly. There are certain characters that I personalize. But when it comes to Mission Impossible, Christopher McQuarrie is such a great writer that I focused on physical training and being part of an already formed team. As an actress, you have to bring something personal, the way I walk, I talk, I frown, I think, will be reflected in the character. I'm not going too far into the secrets or shadows of the director. There is a precise technique in the creation of these films. You have to have confidence, know your text and arrive on time.

AB: Was it the first time that you had to have such great physical preparation and stunts to do?

RF: I had never had so much need to train and be in good shape. Like I said, I love challenges and working hard to achieve a goal. I remember Chris telling me in an interview, “Tom is a movie star. Simon Pegg isn't just his sidekick, he's smart, funny. Luther Stickell also brings something. All of these male characters add something to Mission Impossible. Who are you? What are you bringing?”. I remember thinking about it, telling myself that Ilsa's character had to fill a void, that the film would miss her if we took her away. I had to find meaning in it. It's a balance between following something that has been created and leaving an imprint. This is something Tom and Chris have done very well. Ilsa has a real mission, she saves Tom. She is his equal. This is not a vase. But she's also vulnerable, she's scared ... she feels things. There was a lot to do on this project, to live up to what already existed.

AB: You've been in a lot of action and science fiction movies. What attracts you to this kind of cinema?

RF: I think I am drawn to all genres of cinema. What happened was, I played in Mission Impossible and people loved Ilsa. I proved that I could act out the fight scenes myself and I loved it. I think these kinds of films came naturally to me. But I try to vary the genres. My dream is to shoot in independent films. I want to go where I have never been. And I haven't made an independent film yet. A lot of people fight to shoot in big Hollywood studio movies and I was lucky to have had those experiences.

[rantshemlock]

Midsommar

this contains spoilers for Midsommar 

so like, the cult is bad, right? you realise that? like you guys know cults are bad? like i know they were nice to her but you know this is a white supremacist cult thats manipulating mentally ill people to indoctrinate them? like you guys see that right?

i think maybe the scariest experience of Midsommar was seeing how much people completely accepted and justified everything the cult did in order to project into the fantasy of getting that ultimate catharsis; of completely breaking free from your terrible abusive boyfriend and doing so in a way that empowers you. but it’s a joke to pretend that Dani is empowered at all, or that she really wanted this.

Midsommar is about Dani, who suffers a personal tragedy and then travels with her horrible boyfriend and his awful friends (not you josh) to a cult in sweden for their nine-day midsummer festival. the longer they stay, the more dangerous and frightening the rituals become.

it’s kind of impossible to condense this movie to a short description without it sounding insanely stupid; there’s not a quick paragraph that really condenses the scope of this when so much of the movie is dedicated to crafting an incredibly specific mood. the visuals of the film are incredibly detailed and trying to describe them is almost pointless; its a movie that does need to be watched if you want to understand how Aster cultivates tone and pace. 

the utilisation of the incredibly limited colour; the way images are blended into pictures so subtly they are almost there only to create a subconscious understanding; the way sound is used to tell the story; the mood the permanent sunny day and clear skies sets in a world where the sun barely ever sets. it all adds something to Midsommar, makes it even more of an anxiety-inducing nightmare of the worst thing that could happen when left alone at a friend’s house.

i think one of the greatest skills in Midsommar’s toolkit is the dialogue; while i wouldn’t call it improv or naturalism, the dialogue is very natural and not-stagey, but laced with double meanings and subtext. i think this kind of incredibly believable dialogue is one of Aster’s strongest talents, and definitely one of the things i enjoy most about his movies.

i didnt really get as much out of Midsommar as i did out of my beloved Hereditary, but it’s hard to say exactly why that is outside of my own personal relationship to Hereditary. something about the scope and scale of Midsommar, the removal from the domestic, makes it a touch less personally evocative to me. 

Midsommar is a movie about gaslighting and abusive relationships, but there’s a pretty clear pattern in people recognising that with Dani’s horrible boyfriend and neglecting to see it in the cult. it’s very easy to get wrapped up in the cult’s apparent empathy and understanding of her trauma, but what we’re watching isn’t a genuine love and care for Dani. it’s an indoctrination tactic used to manipulate and brainwash her. all through the movie the cult imitates and pretends to share people’s pain, but they don’t truly experience Dani’s any more than they do that of the old man who survives a suicide attempt, only to be subsequently killed by the cult. they are merely reflecting what she was going through, utilising her pain to guide her to their own ends. 

the intention is stated clear as day during the exact same “does he make you feel held? does he feel like home to you?” conversation Pelle and Dani have that people love to reference so much as the heartwarming moment of the movie. Pelle tells Dani that his parents also died, but he never had to be sad because the cult was there for him, and then says that he’s glad Dani came on the trip to sweden because she’s the one he wanted there the most. later, we find out that it was the mission of Pelle and others to bring outsiders to the cult.

the meaning of this is clear; Pelle recognised that Dani was vulnerable, and took it upon himself to recruit her. this is a frequent favourite tactic of cults. the idea he was doing this trip out of the kindness of his heart is absurd; the cult deals in human sacrifice. he knew that he could more easily lead Dani to her death. 

pretending Dani is happy at the end of the film is a vast stretch, and pretending that any brief spell of happiness would justify what happened is even more so. right up until the very end she is either terrified or has been drugged, often without her knowledge or consent. she doesn’t know the extent to which innocent people have been murdered. she doesn’t know what the cult have planned, what their history is, what their future is. she can’t even communicate with the vast majority of the cult’s members. to pretend that she has any autonomy in this situation is to ignore how guided and controlled her actions are throughout the movie; she accepts the death of her boyfriend when she is drugged and almost catatonic from trauma, and is that really enough to say that she is happy? that she is docile and compliant?

throughout the film Dani is constantly trying to set up boundaries, to make tiny requests of people for her own wellbeing. time and time again they are ignored and overruled and her attempts to stand up for herself are flattened in the wake of other peoples desires. the cult is no different; none of her actions are borne of her own choices. no one has ever really cared what Dani wants. 

i think what is most prominent is that when Dani is becoming the may queen, an image of her sister committing suicide can be seen mixed into the trees in the background. drawing a direct parallel between death and Dani’s adoption as the May Queen feels like a very transparents statement of intent. 

what also should be mentioned is the white supremacist nature of the cult; of the victims, the first to die are all people of colour. white supremacist literature is seen around the camp. the cultists talk about how their children are born from specially chosen couples, in what is the most brushed over description of selected breeding and eugenics ive ever heard. every living person is white. it is not accidental or subtle. apparently the directors cut goes into much deeper detail on this idea; i couldnt say myself, i havent seen it. but its obvious in this film that this cult stands for the benefit only of themselves and the preservation of their rituals and past.

in the end the question to me is: was it all worth it? was all the suffering and pain the loss of life worth it, just for Dani to have a smile that expresses nothing but how far she has fallen into her trauma? 

one of the things that weighed on me watching the movie was that it was specified that the ritual lasts nine days -- we see maybe five. the other thing is that throughout the movie we are repeatedly shown dozens of photos of past May Queens, but never does a character ever introduce themselves as a past May Queen, never does a character reference other May Queens. after their need is abated, they just seem to vanish. it makes me wonder what happens in the other four days. 

[the-honey-bear]

The Fifth

Title: The Fifth

Pairing: Elsa/Anna, past Anna/Kristoff

Summary:

“We have many lives to live,” Elsa tells her. “It’s okay to pass the baton.”

Elsa’s eyes are as clear as Ahtohallan, and in them Anna feels the call of those waters.'

A bridge has two sides, and both Elsa and Anna have kept up their ends for a long, long time.

Read below or on AO3:

Black lace and silk, Anna covers her face. It would feel cruel and unnatural to display her youth-- face as fresh and vital as it was on her 21st birthday-- when Kristoff’s own has been eroded and worn away by the years. Lucky me, he’d say, when she pecked his wrinkled cheek-- yet it feels less like luck, but destiny, as fierce and unforgiving as the glacier rivers that sweep down from the mountain springs.

It’s been fifty years since Anna walked down this very chapel aisle in a wedding dress. Today, they bring her husband out in a casket. The black lace was a good idea; she does not need to still her tears. Her daughter, her son and his children stand by her side: she has to be strong for them. Anna puts a hand around her granddaughter as she hiccoughs a sob. That same dull ache in her chest: the fear that one day, it’ll be her funeral Anna wears black lace for, for her daughter, and her daughter after that.

She feels Elsa’s presence before she feels her hand, slipping into Anna’s own. Her other half; the other side of the bridge.

Elsa always knows what to say. She doesn’t tell Anna it’ll be okay, or that Kristoff was a good man, or any other useless, pretty things. She instead says, “I’ll always be here,” punctuating it with a firm squeeze of her hand. You can feel her heartbeat through her palm.

She is a balm to the terrors of your immortality, soothing the loneliness that looms in the future, as time picks away at those you love.

“I know, Elsa,” Anna says.

“You’ve done your duty here, you know,” Elsa says.

Anna squeezes a smile. “Thought the job was for life?”

“We have many lives to live,” Elsa tells her. “It’s okay to pass the baton.”

Elsa’s eyes are as clear as Ahtohallan, and in them Anna feels the call of those waters. Tides drawn to the moon, her sister has her own gravity. She casts her own light. She asks a question without speaking the words.

It takes physical effort for Anna to pull away from that gravity. “I can’t,” she says. “Not yet, anyway.”

*

Arendelle needs her; as do her children, and their children too. Time marches on without kindness, as a new century dawns, promising progress, new invention, new danger. Olaf leaves Arendelle, moving into the ice palace on the mountain.

“I’m grown up now, and I need my own place,” he tells her. “Don’t cry, okay?”

Anna cries, anyway.

Elsa’s visits are less frequent. Hair paler than snow, eyes deeper than deepest water, Anna envies her detachment. Perhaps it’s easier to remain separate, to not feel blow after blow as those you love slip through your fingers like sand.

“You could come back with me,” Elsa says.

“I could,” says Anna. She doesn't have to say the words: but I won’t .

As much as Ahtohallan’s waters call to Anna, they frighten her as well. To come with Elsa would be an admission; the act of leaving her mortal life behind.

*

Deft fingers, Gerda tightens the stays of Anna’s gown. She allows her fingers to trace down her silhouette; nothing has shifted or slipped or sagged. Today is the 70th anniversary of her coronation.

“Thank you, Gerda,” she says, and Gerda coughs.

“Your Majesty… it’s Wilma,” the young woman says.

“Oh. Right. Thank you Wilma.”

It’d slipped her mind; Gerda had passed away thirty years past.

*

One spring morning, Anna’s grandson drives his new motorcar up the drive to the castle gates. “Made in Sweden, goes up to 40 miles per hour,” Anna could hear him boast, from across the garden. Ifun was always about his new toys. He waves her across the hedge.

“Nana, want to go for a ride? It’s quite safe.”

She eyes the metal horsecarriage in suspicion. “Are you sure?”

“I just drove her back from Stockholm. I’m sure.”

He zooms down the bumpy carriage track, and Anna can feel every rock and pit underneath. Her great granddaughter Iduna, pulls at her sleeve. “You look green, Nana Anna. Are you ok?”

“A horse has better suspension than this,” Anna mutters.

Iduna leans up to the front seat. “Can we go visit Auntie Elsa?”

Up they go; up the steep paths to the once-enchanted forest of the Northuldra. This is Elsa’s land, and although she does not rule as queen, the Northuldra give her the reverence due to her. They invoke her name as they invoke the name of the four spirits, give thanks to her in their songs.

Not a monarch; a goddess.

She is everywhere in these woods; her protection strung like gossamer thread from every tree. Her magic has a heartbeat, and the forest is alive.

Yet the Northuldra have not seen Elsa for over a year.

“The Fifth keeps to herself, as of late,” they tell Anna.

Waiting, they tell her. Though for what-- for who-- they cannot, or do not say.

That night, as they settle down inside their hosts hut, under warm furs, Anna cannot sleep. She can feel her sister’s loneliness as keenly as her own; an ice cold arrow to the heart.

She throws off the furs, and sets out. She does not have to travel far to find her. As the Northuldra said, Elsa has been waiting.

In the moonlit glade, her sister combs her fingers through the Nokk’s mane. She is so white that she glows. She casts her own light.

Something furious catches in Anna’s throat. “You gave me this duty,” she says.

You were the one who went away.

You were supposed to stay with me.

You left me, again.

Elsa hears it all. She dips her head, in remorse. Her hair shines like starlight.

“You had Kristoff. You were happy together,” she says.

“But you could have given me a choice.”

Elsa does not speak. Her fingers glide through water, combing the Nokk’s watery mane.

“Forget it. Let’s not fight.” The words are thick in her throat. That wasn’t what Anna had come here for. She’d come here, because--

“It was a selfish decision, I know,” says Elsa. “Giving the kingdom to you. But Anna, I couldn’t predict-- I couldn’t know we’d be--”

Spirits-- or two parts of one spirit, Anna was never entirely sure.

“And you do have a choice. I’m giving you it right now; come to Ahtohallan, with me. Pass the baton.”

She erases the distance between them, extends a hand. Anna wants so much to take it; to dive into those deep waters, no matter what dangers lurk beneath.

“You gave me a duty,” she says, stubbornly.

“And that duty is over. Anna.” She reaches for her sister, but Anna sets her back to her.

“I can’t ,” she says, as the stalks away through the forest, the trees casting long dark twisting shadows behind them.

*

One hundred years have passed since she danced with Elsa here, at the harvest festival. So much has changed; the buildings, the lights, lit with a phospherence that stings her eyes. Yet the stone beneath Anna’s feet remains, remembers. The echo of her laughter still lingers, even when all else has faded, like the paint peeling off the eaves...

Some things never change, but so much else does.

Iduna finds you, long after the festival has finished. Last year, she came of age. She’s made of memories; with Kristoff’s hair, Agnar’s chin, and her namesake’s eyes. All the people Anna has loved lives on inside her. When she speaks, sometimes Anna hears them speaking with her.

“What are you thinking about, Nana Anna?” she asks.

That I don’t want to watch you die, Anna thinks, although it seems prudent not to say it.

“That pumpkin pie and ice cream. I could just swim in it,” she says instead.

“Oh, I could too!” says Iduna. She’s definitely inherited her sweet tooth. But her smile fades. “You were looking terribly serious for someone thinking about ice cream.”

“Well. Just the past. Nothing interesting.”

“I don’t believe that at all. When you’re as old as you, Nana Anna, the past has to be interesting. Oh, not that you’re old , old. I mean--” she flusters. Anna laughs, puts her hand over hers. In Iduna she sees a lot of herself.

“It’s fine. I am totally old old. And I was just thinking about Elsa.”

Iduna’s eyes flare with curiosity. It’d become nearly a legend in Arendelle: the queen who’d frozen the kingdom solid. “Do you think she’ll come visit Arendelle again soon?”

“No,” says Anna. “I don’t think she will.”

“Oh. How come?”

“She’s waiting,” Anna says. She looks past the harbour; the fjord; past Arendelle itself. She thinks of a little girl, knocking on a door. Only, she’s on the other side, this time.

“You don’t need to watch over us anymore, you know,” says Iduna. She speaks quietly, but her words pull Anna back.

“What?”

Iduna crinkles a smile. “Arendelle will be fine. You taught us all well. Elsa’s waiting for you, right?”

She never realised it: that she’d been waiting for those words.

Elsa is waiting.

She stands, pulling on her cloak.

“Nana?”

She kisses Iduna on both cheeks.

“You’ll make a wonderful queen, Iduna.”

“Nana!”

She heads to the castle stables in quick strides, her heart beating fast. Iduna follows her in, breathing hard, as Anna equips the saddle. How long has it been since she’d last ridden?

“Nana, at least take the motorcar,” Iduna breathes, exasperated.

“I’ll pass. I’m a little old fashioned like this,” she says, swinging her leg over the saddle.

Anna musses Iduna’s hair with fondness, and spurs her horse on. Old memories stir in her like the smell of the soil rising from the earth after the rains; wind through her hair and the chestnut mare’s powerful muscles under her thighs. Her hair tumbles out of its braid, catches like a lick of fire as Gale swoops up and around her, its laughter in Anna’s ears.

“Gale! Tell Elsa I’m coming!”

*

The forest opens up to welcome Anna in. Trees in her path shift; the earth moves. Gale is at her back, pushing her further, faster.

Elsa is waiting for her, here, on the shore.

“Elsa! Elsa!”

She stumbles through the sand and shale, and into her sister’s arms.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Elsa peels back to look at her. She hasn’t smiled so brightly in one hundred years. It transforms her; glows out of every part of her. “You’re here.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” says Anna.

“I’m sorry I made you choose.”

Anna pulls her close. “Don’t be. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

She presses a kiss to her sister’s lips.

She’d loved Kristoff, but Elsa is a part of her in a way that has always both terrified and enthralled her.

She has served her kingdom. She has done her duty. Now she lets her mortal fears unspool behind her like a kite let loose. She’s holding Iduna’s small hand as they let the thread loose; the kite catches the updraft and soars. The sky and sea are one endless blue as the Nokk’s hooves thunder over unbroken water. Together, they ride in Ahtohallan’s halls.

[the-deeds-to-shibden]

Friday 6 - Saturday 7 September 1839

Friday 6 September 1839

[And it’s goodbye to Sweden. Having spent the day packing and writing letters, Anne and Ann, accompanied by their two servants and the coachman, finally board the steamer which will take them across the Baltic sea to the Finnish port of Åbo (Turku). They’re given a sweet parting gift by their hotel landlord, and for once are not violently seasick, even managing pleasant chats with fellow passengers.]

[up at] 6 50/”

[to bed at] 10

fine Fahrenheit 66 1/2 at 6 50/” – packing (breakfast at 9 3/4) – all the day packing and paying – dinner at 5 i.e. tea and bread and instead of butter currant jelly and 2 boiled eggs – afterwards paying and settling with Jean –  had agreed in the morning that he should accompany us to Abo, and if I did not take him to drive us forwards I would give him 18 dollars banco = his expenses there and back – but if I do take him (he himself proposed this) I am to give him the same I should give the same I should give any one I took from Abo – I said I would give him 3 dollars a day and his expenses back to Abo –  he much obliged to me – very anxious to go to St. Petersburg

now at 8 p.m. raining hard – ordered a little carriage to take us to the steamer – Ann has written to her sister and is writing to her aunt sent her letter before 8 p.m. by Gross to the former and left her letter for the latter with our good little landlord who came to say good[bye] and gave us a parcel of his own sweetmeats – he is a confectioner off at 9 1/4 – on board in a few minutes – very fine day –  and in my berth about 10 p.m. and there I lay till

Saturday 7 September 1839

[up at] 4 40/” p.m.

“ [did not go to sleep]

all the day till 1/2 melted away (toute en nage) I jumped up at 4 40/” p.m. tied up my stocking and buttoned my gaiters and washed the little bit that was possible and put on my old black silk travelling dress again and crawled up to Ann who had been in the carriage since 12 at noon – the air refreshed me –  about 7 we went and sat on deck talking to our little Stockholm born German speaking mother of 3 daughters on board a nice little person – had lived at St. Petersburg 5 years – her husband evidently a merchant – she and her friend Mr. le Pasteur almost persuaded me to go by sea to St. Petersburg or at least to Revel –  Ann and I had nothing all today but a little dry bread and I a part of a cup of tea about 9 a.m. – and neither of us absolutely sick – very fine day

Anne’s marginal notes:

Leave Stockholm

L [for letter]

Embark for Åbo

very fine day

WYAS page: SH:7/ML/TR/130024

A 1842 sketch by Magnus von Wright of the steamer “Furst Menschikoff” (Prince Menschikoff, named after the then Governor-General of Finland) that took Anne and Ann from Stockholm to Åbo. The first Finnish steamship, in 1839 it was plying the Stockholm - Dagerby (Åland Islands) - Åbo (Turku) - Helsingfors (Helsinki) - Reval (Tallinn) - Kronstadt route.

Many thanks to Sari Miettinen for telling me about, and Virva Hepolampi for first having found, the article from the Swedish-language Åbo Underrättelser newspaper (of 11 September 1839, no. 72, p. 3) containing the passenger list for Furst Menschikoff’s journey of 6-8 September 1839:

Here is the detail of the paragraph mentioning Anne and Ann, and my translation of it. Note how the passenger list is given in order of social hierarchy/title precedence; Anne is in the Mrs. section, and Ann is with the other Misses, while their servants (Gross and his wife) are mentioned near the end. The list also mentions the passengers they conversed with during the journey: the “German speaking mother of 3 daughters on board a nice little person” (Mrs. Beer with daughters Ida, Mathilda and Julia) and the pastor, Mr. Muralt. 

“Steamer Furst Menschikoff

arrived from Stockholm and Degerby, bringing as passengers: chamberlain v[on] Knorring, deputy judge Kikoni, baroness Stackelberg, Pastor Muralt, chief district judge Sjöman, district judge Favorin with daughter, merchants Leth, Beil and Cajander, Mmes. Cajander, Lister, Leth, Beer, Forsberg and Beil, the latter with 2 daughters; Misses Avellan, Walker, and Ida, Mathilda and Julie Beer, lithographer Liewendahl, burgher Wildenstein, student Basilier, helmsman Engquist, maid Petterson, servant Gråss with wife, 2 journeymen and 2 farmhands, or all together 34 persons.”

[wxldchxld]

An updated timeline:

So, I have reworked a couple of things in Beck’s history but I haven’t written them ON Beck’s history page yet bc that’s going to be a bear to deal with. I’m just going to post this as a hc for right now, and hopefully update the pages in a couple of days.

Look this is LONG and there are trigger warnings for suicide attempt mentions as well as abuse and animal cruelty. None of it is explicit. It’s even more vague than my current history has it. So I’m begging you, if you write with me or want to write with me, please look at this updated canon. But I will put it under a cut for the sake of triggers as well as the insane length that it got to.

Birth - 6

The daughter of a political marriage between the Wolf and the Fox clan leaders. Named Dahlia Adelaida Beck by birth. Born at the height of the winter solstice, marking her as a priestess among her people.

Nicknamed Dolly by her grandmother Alma.

Lives with her mother Élea, her father Oskar, her brother Fenris, and her grandparents Alma and Percy on their family owned land in Montana. She gets Ringo, her first familiar here and learns how to ride a horse, and some basic camping/fishing/farm skills from her father and grandfather. Her grandmother teaches her basic knitting/sewing/cooking. Her mother is, in large part, absent during this period of her life. She and Fenris are inseparable. 

At three Beck makes her first shift into a fox, marking her in the eyes of everyone as a feral witch. Whatever meager affection her mother had for her evaporated completely at that moment.

On her sixth birthday she is given a mare who her father has named Dawnbreaker.

Three months after her sixth birthday her father passes. Her mother takes them on a vacation back to her family home in Sweden that lasts the remainder of the year. They stay with her maternal grandparents, Linnéa and Stefan Tandy

7

A month after Beck’s seventh birthday, Linnéa and Elea have a falling out over the way Elea is treating her children. Elea consistently refuses to take care of Dahlia in particular, and she begins to learn to fend for herself, which is deeply concerning to her grandmother.

Her maternal grandparents ask for custody of both Dahlia and Fenris. Elea responds by taking both of her children back to the states to California where she resumes her master’s program.

Shortly after her mother reverts to her maiden name, and forces her children to do so as well. Dahlia, furious and still deeply grieving her father, declares that her name is Beck, and refuses to answer to anything else.

Elea’s abuse of her children gets worse. Fenris, who was a more passive child, rarely got physically punished like Beck, but he still suffers from severe emotional abuse and manipulation. Beck is, for the most part on her own. She stays out of the house as much as she can, sleeping in parks or other abandoned places, and learning to steal for her food, as there is little to hunt for in the city. This is embarrassing to her mother, and she’s frequently punished for it.

Beck meets Cora, an older witch ostracized by the local covens, who becomes Beck’s mentor in everything she can teach her.

Beck finds the city suffocating, and she frequently wanders out into the countryside when she can, and cries when she cannot. Elea finally consents to bringing the horse her father gave her to a stable outside of town, and lets Beck walk to the stable several times a week. In this time, Dawnbreaker becomes her second familiar.

Both Fenris and Beck are homeschooled by coven members at this time. Most of them are apathetic, some downright hostile to her. She is eventually diagnosed with dyslexia, but is given little help with it.

8-9

Beck is able to stand the city less and less. She begins disappearing for longer periods of time. At first days, then weeks, and eventually she begins to take Dawnbreaker away for months at a time.

Elea, who is using Fenris’ birthright to rule both her people and the Wolves, sends men after her. The fights between them grow even more violent and bitter, and Elea struggles to even cast the appearance that her house is in order. She begins to drive a wedge between Beck and Fen, who still loves his sister dearly. But this backfires, and gives Beck even less reason to return home. 

10

Beck’s mother finds her one final time. When they are brought to Elea this time, they are not taken to the family home in the city, but a secluded section of woods. Her mother proceeds to have her bound, and forces her to watch as Dawnbreaker is hanged from one of the old trees in an attempt to keep her from ever running again.

Several months of inconsolable grief, where she scarcely eats or leaves her bed at all, send her brother Fenris into a mad rage. He begins to plan his revenge in secret. At the next coven meet, he reveals her heinous crime and kills her. The witches absolve him of the murder of another witch in light of what Elea did, and they help cover up the crime.

Shortly after Beck moves in with Cora, but Fenris refuses. He tells her he was offered a chance to learn powerful magic from a coven member, a man Beck doesn’t trust. For the first time in their lives, they are truly separated. 

11-13

Fenris and Beck try repeatedly to mend their relationship and get back to where they were as children, but they fail every time. Beck grows more restless, more wild, by the day, and the magic and fear and anger are twisting Fen into someone she doesn’t know.

Before she can even turn twelve Cora’s loving support is no longer enough for Beck. She has no desire to stay in a house, among people, not even someone she loves. She and Ringo leave the safety of Cora’s home permanently, returning only for visits.

On her thirteenth birthday, Beck is attacked by a mountain lion. After a long battle, before the creature makes its killing blow, she catches the animal’s eye. Understanding sparks between the two of them, and this time when she tells it to go, it obeys. Both she and Ringo are nearly killed in the incident, but her familiar manages to limp to the nearest town and bring back help.

She is taken back to California and returned to her brother rather than Cora. Fenris has grown in power and status among the witches there. Her appearance strikes Fenris with a cold terror, and though he is extremely kind to her in helping her heal, Beck feels as if something is deeply wrong.

14-16

After a long recovery, Beck begins to get restless again. She yearns to return to the wilds. The city suffocates her more and more by the day, but her brother refuses to let her go. 

Tensions between Fenris and Beck reach a boiling point, and she is eventually confined to a room until she agrees to stay in the city with him. The change overtakes Fenris as the year drags on, and he’s not the sweet young boy she once knew. She feels as if she’s living with her enemy rather than her brother.

She is enrolled in a coven school, where they attempt to continue her educate while working around the fact she is almost completely illiterate. This is where she meets Harper, just two months after her 14th birthday.

Beck and Harper fall into a quick, extremely heated teenage passion. All of the grief and loneliness they feel slowly evaporates. Beck reconnects with some of her old friends at this time too. When she’s with them, she feels as happy as she can possibly feel living in a cage, but things only seem to get worse and worse every time she goes home.

 17

On her seventeenth birthday, Harper gives her a ring. Harper is anxious to leave home to move to New York, and asks Beck to marry her the second they’re both eighteen and to move away with her. Harper doesn’t know what’s going on between Fen and Beck. She doesn’t know about the healed bruises and the shouting and the threats. Beck refuses to take the ring without being able to tell Harper the real reason why. Even if Fen did let her leave, she would never survive New York. They don’t break up but Harper vows to leave for Juliard the second she can. With or without Beck.

Between life with her brother and the ever looming deadline of Harper leaving, Beck becomes increasingly fragile and hostile. She knows she cannot stay. 

Harper, older than Beck, leaves for New York a few months later, and without her protective presence, things at home get even worse. When she tells another coven witch, the woman either doesn’t believe her, or she’s too frightened to listen.

After several failed escape attempts, and Fenris’ control getting tighter and tighter, Beck eventually attempts suicide. She is taken to a hospital, a place she’d been a handful of times before because of her brother’s wrath, and a woman there offers her help. She accepts and is stolen away.

Beck is introduced to the Sisters of the Holy St. Marciana of Mauretania, a group of humans, witches, and other supernatural beings who masquerade as an order of nuns. They operate in secret under many names and in many places, helping those that no one else will help. After a brief recovery, Beck leaves them, but not without a promise to help if they call on her. 

18

Beck returns home to her family land, despite knowing her grandparents have long since abandoned it. She finds her father’s old VW bus still in (mostly) running order and begins to use it for travel. 

In the early spring, Beck returns to the wild herds of Montana, where Dawnbreaker lived in the months they were separated, and where she was born. She meets a golden stallion and instantly recognizes him as one of her foals. The stallion begins to follow her around tirelessly, and Beck tries again and again to send him away. But the stallion will not be shooed, and eventually Beck lets him remain with her. She calls him Grani, and soon after he joins her, he becomes her familiar.

Beck begins to do odd jobs and magical favors for people in order to gain certain magical objects, slowly building a steady collection in her bottomless bag.

Beck remains constantly on the run, knowing her brother’s men are only a breath behind her at any moment. She has the van enchanted so it can be easily concealed, can travel off-road, and can haul a horse trailer.

19-21

Beck mostly still lives in the wilds, but takes several jobs helping children and adults escape situations similar to hers. Victims of domestic abuse by powerful people that are beloved or feared by everyone else. These jobs are the only time she goes into cities, and often while she’s doing research and laying low, she steals from wealthy nearby homes and businesses.

During one of these thefts Beck steals a kitten after it follows her out of the mansion she’d just robbed. The kitten becomes her final familiar, and when she gains her sentience, she re-names herself Angrboda.

In the fall before her 22nd birthday Beck sees Harper jogging in Central Park while working on a job. Knowing it was a bad idea, she still approached her. Harper was different in almost every way, and yet some how she was still as hopelessly passionate and deeply furious as the day she’d left for New York.

22-24

Beck and Harper fall back into a relationship. Perhaps both of them knew it was a bad idea, or maybe it was only Beck, but dread grew alongside passion. Harper could scarcely stand her absences, and life in the city was hell on Beck.

They dated for two years. Harper even consented to moving out of the city center to a farm near Roxbury. Marriage was a frequent topic between them both, and yet it never happened.

Eventually even Harper’s power on the East Coast wasn’t enough to keep Fenris away, and the fear of the conflict that would ensue between the witch factions and fearing her brother and deeply missing her life on the road, Beck left. She couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye, and it has been her greatest regret.

24-present

Beck lives in the wilds with her familiars, constantly traveling, and for the most part very happy. There are people she misses, and places she knows she can never return to, but she’s free. Even on nights when she’s hungry or the weather is bitter and savage, she’s free. 

She’s mastered several other forms in this time, and I didn’t want to break down their discoveries by age, but they happened over the years, not just after she turned 25.

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND July 4, 2019  - SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME, MIDSOMMAR, MARIANNE & LEONARD

It’s the 4thof July weekend, which is often the bane of my existence because I’m never invited to do anything with anyone. Fortunately, I’m going back to Ohio for the first time in nine months so I’ll be spending this 4thof July with family, and hopefully, that will include some movie-watching.

The movie I’m most excited about seeing again is SPIDERMAN: FAR FROM HOME (Sony), the sequel directed by Jon Watts that returns Tom Holland to the Spidey-suit and brings back all of his friends and classmates, as well as throwing Jake Gyllenhaal’s Mysterio into the mix. You can read how much I enjoyed the movie in my review below, and also, check out my interview with the director, also below.

MY REVIEW OF SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME

INTERVIEW WITH JON WATTS ON THE BEAT

The other wide release this weekend is Ari Aster’s sophomore feature MIDSOMMAR (A24), starring Florence Pugh, Jack Reynor (Sing Street) and Will Poulter as a group of friends who travel to Sweden to observe a Midsommar ritual held by the community of their friend, but things are not what they seem. Before you can say “The Wicker Man,” they’re finding out the real intentions for their hosts.

Mini-Review: Like most, I loved Ari Aster’s Hereditary and saw it as the advent of a fantastic new vision in filmmaking and horror, specifically. Whenever a filmmaker delivers such an amazing debut, his or her follow-up is going to be eyed with equal parts anticipation and scrutiny, and that’s truly been the case with Midsommar.

Like Aster’s previous film, this one begins with the death of family members, in this case those of Florence Pugh’s Dani early on in the movie.  Dani’s boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor from Sing Street) is ready to break up with Dani, because he can’t handle her family drama. At the same time, Christian has been invited by his friend Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) to go to his small Swedish community to take part in the Midsommar ritual along with friends Josh and Mark (Will Poulter). When Dani finds out about it and Christian invites her (think she’ll say “No’ – she doesn’t) – it soon becomes obvious Dani will be the fifth wheel threatening to bring down the mood. That’s okay because Pelle’s friendly community might have ulterior motives for the visitors.

There’s a lot to like about Midsommar, particularly Aster’s clever way of exploring The Wicker Man territory in a new way that offers terror and horror often in the brightest of daylight, an achievement in itself. Other than the film’s look and the production design that went into making it such a unique-looking visual film, it’s hard to ignore the fact that this is the exact same “stupid young people on vacation getting slaughtered” motif we’ve seen in so many horror films from Eli Roth’s Hostel movies to Touristas to so many more.

For the most part, Aster has another strong cast --  Florence Pugh is quite fantastic in a very different role, although she does a lot of crying in this movie. Jack Reynor could begin stepping into a few of Chris Pratt’s roles without anyone batting an eye, because he has similar rugged looks and charm. I actually liked Will Poulter’s obnoxious American to the point where when he mysteriously vanishes halfway through the movie, it loses quite a bit.

Beyond that, Midsommar explores some of the same themes Aster explored in his first movie, including death and grief and family squabbles with one character crying a lot, and of course, diabolical cult rituals and lots of nudity. Aster also use the same upside-down camera shot he used in Hereditary, which itself was borrowed from Darren Aronofsky. Maybe I’d have liked Midsommar more if it didn’t feel like Aster was retreading familiar territory. I do have to wonder if Aster has ever had therapy, because he certainly seems to have issues, maybe even with a sister, driving him to kill sisters in both his films?

Owing as much to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as the more obvious Wicker Man, MIdsommar is still not your typical horror movie by any means. If your favorite part of Hereditary was its crazy ending and you didn’t think it was crazy enough, then Midsommar is the movie for you!

Rating: 7/10

LIMITED RELEASES

Because it’s the 4thof July this week, we’re getting far fewer limited releases but I do want to call attention to a couple docs opening this week.

But first, I want to draw attention to a movie that opened at the Film Forum last week, Lila Avilés’ The Chambermaid, an amazing portrait of a Mexican maid in a high-end hotel as she goes through the day-to-day while trying to achieve her goals and dreams, all which seem to move further and further away. I was a fan of last year’s Romaand though The Chambermaid is a different type of movie, it features another amazing performance by an indigenous Mexican, Gabriela Cartol, who had appeared in a couple other movies before, but she really keeps the viewer drawn to the movie and the things that she goes through. At times, it feels like there’s no way for her to fulfill those dreams, and it’s something to which we can all relate.

A doc that’s a must see for all Leonard Cohen fans is Nick Broomfield’s MARIANNE & LEONARD: WORDS OF LOVE (Roadside Attractions), an amazing look at the relationship between Cohen and Marianne Ihlen, the Norwegian woman with whom he lived on the isle of Hydra in Greece, one of his early muses and the inspiration for the song “Goodbye, Marianne.” It’s an amazing film by the award-winning documentarian that has a lot of revelations, including the fact that Broomfield as friends with Marianne going back to the ‘60s, making him the perfect filmmaker to tackle the subject. It opens in select cities including the Angelika Film Center in New York Friday.

Opening at the IFC Center in New York is Rob Fruchtman and Steve Lawrence’s The Cat Rescuers about New York City’s 500,000 street cats and a group of volunteers who go through Brooklyn getting these cats fixed and returning them to their colonies or getting them adopted. It’s a movie that cat lovers will probably enjoy similar to the film Kedi from a few years back, but it’s also kind of sad when you realize that some of this cat population will have to be put down, because cats are adorable and you don’t want them to die. 

Opening at the City Cinemas Village East in New York  almost two years since premiering at TIFF is Tali Shalom-Ezer’s My Days of Mercy, starring Ellen Page and Amy Seimetz (Pet Sematary) as sisters Lucy and Martha who attend state executions to demonstrate against the death penalty. At one such event, Lucy meets Mercy (Kate Mara), the daughter of a police officer whose partner was killed by a man about to be put to death. They quickly bond before Lucy confesses that her own father (Elias Koteas) is on Death Row.

The only other limited release this weekend is Frédéric Petitjean’s directorial debut Cold Blood (Screen Media), starring Jean Reno as Henry, a hitman who is living in a cabin by a lake in the Rocky Mountains when he encounters a young woman who survived a snowmobile accident and has to decide whether to save her life. It opens in select cities and On Demand Friday.

STREAMING AND CABLE

There aren’t any big movie releases on Netflix this weekend but that’s because Season 3 of Stranger Things will premiere on the 4thof July, and I expect many people will be spending the early part of the weekend watching that.

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

Unfortunately, I missed something last week in terms of repertory series at the Metrograph as I didn’t realize that former Village Voice critic J. Hoberman was doing another series in conjunction with his latest bookMake My Day: Movie Culture in the Age of Reagan. The series Reagan at the Movies: Found Illusionsincludes a mixed array of films including 1951’s The Day the Earth Stood Still, a new restoration of Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985), Clint Eastwood’s Firefox (1983), Hal Ashby’s Being There(1979) starring Peter Sellers and more!

Also on Wednesday, Metrograph will be premiering a special 20thanniversary restoration of Takashi Miike’s horror classic Audition, which I think is so perfect for the remake treatment due to the #MeToo movement and its implications. Can you imagine how well a revenge thriller about a young woman getting revenge on sleazy movie producer types would go over in this day and age? Call me, Jason Blum!  

This week’s Late Nites at Metrograph is Penelope Spheeris’ Suburbia (1983) while the Playtime: Family Matinees is Robert Zemeckis’ Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988).

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Weds has a special matinee screening of the Bond film From Russia With Love (1963) and Tarantino’s theater isn’t taking off on the 4th of July. In fact, it’s holding a special event screening of Red Dawn (1984) and Rocky IV (1985) (You might notice a theme there… USA! USA!) Weds and Thursday are also double features of The Happening  (1967) with Anthony Quinn and Land Raiders  (1970), starring Telly Savalas. The Friday/Saturday double features are the 1966 sci-fi classic Fantastic Voyage with 100 Rifles. The weekend’s KIDDE MATINEE is the Disney classic The Love Bug (1968), while Friday’s midnight screening is Tarantino’s Django Unchained and Saturday at midnight is a 35mm print of Richard Rush’s Getting Straight (1970), starring Elliot Gould and Candice Bergen. Sunday and Monday is a double feature of Dean Martin’s Murderer’s Row (1966) with Ann-Margret’s Kitten with a Whip  (1964).

FILM FORUM (NYC):

Elaine May’s Mikey and Nicky (1976) gets a new 4k restoration that begins on Friday, plus May’s 1971 film A New Leaf will also screen through the weekend. The restoration of Jennie Livingston’s Paris Burning continues to play through the weekend, while the Film Forum will also continue showing Elaine May’s Ishtar and the Coen’s The Big Lebowski through the 4thof July.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

The Friday after the 4thof July sees a double feature of Steven Spielberg’s Jaws (1975) and Hard Ticket to Hawaii (1987), co-presented by Beyond Fest. Saturday is a screening of the classic Lawrence of Arabia (1962) in 70mm, while Sunday sees a double feature of The Return of the Living Dead (1985) and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2  (1986).

AERO  (LA):

Oh, look… Spielberg’s Jaws is playing here, too… but on Wednesday. Director Peter Hunt will be on hand Friday to screen his movie musical 1776 (1972). On Saturday, you can see a double feature of Jaws 3-D  (1983) and A*P*E (1976), co-presented by Cinematic Void, and on Sunday is a Baseball Double Feature of 1993’s The Sandlot and Penny Marshall’s A League of Their Own  (1992), both in 35mm!

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

MOMI is having another screening of Stephen Frears’ My Beautiful Laundrette  (1985), starring Daniel Day Lewis on Saturday, wrapping up Grit and Glitter: Before and After Stonewall. This weekend’s See It Big! Action movies are Robocop (1987) on Friday and the Wachowskis’ The Matrix on Saturday and Sunday.

QUAD CINEMA (NYC):

Opening on Friday is a 4k restoration of the Director’s Cut of Daniel Vigne’s The Return of Martin Guerre (1982), starring Gerard Depardieu.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

On Saturday, you can see Alfred Hitchcock’s terror masterpiece Psycho (1960) on the big screen again!

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

Friday’s midnight screening is Tommy Wiseau’s midnight movie “classic” The Room (2003).

Next week, things slow down with two lower-profile films, the comedy Stuber, starring Kumhail Nanjiani and Dave Bautista, and the alligator horror film Crawl, from Alexandra Aja and Sam Raimi.  

[kissmetae]

A rant ahead

Plese excuse the typos and missing letters this potential mess will have, my keyboard is laggy and 3 keys don’t have actual keys on em and some are hella slow ANYWAY: I just got off the phone with my dad and yes I was cold and short worded but it’s because I’m still upset and dissapointed and he doesn’t even know I am. I’ve told my mum about it and she knows that I’m mad and upset at him but tomorrow we’re celebrating my birthday (one day early) me, mum, dad, sTePdAd and dad’s gf and I just... sigh

i’ve already ranted about how my parents make me feel like it’s the most annoying time of the year when it for me is the only time unless something big happens that i get to be with my mum and dad at the same time (ofc neither any of the 4 know what divorced parents feels like) and they both know about it and they toldme they dont think so but fckn hell they (my mum mainly.) really make it feel like it’s so annoying and problematic.

But this is about why i’m mad and just want to get it out of me.

I haven’t met my dad since the weekend before i went to london to go see BTS, when i did he made me feel so fckn upset. I was trying to talk about this big exciting trip i had waiting for me and he pays little to no interest and sure i am aware of that he was mad at his work place BUT he apparently isn’t mad enough to bring up the fact that his gf’s nephew is coming to visit us (he lives in greece, so he’s coming to sweden again) for the idk 4th time. and that was my last straw because he has constantly been making me feel like he is way more interested in what my unofficial cousin’s are doing THAN ME. i even had thoughts like it would be so much better if i wasnt here or if he had a son instead because all i feel is that “Oh felicia she is so boring she has nothing going for her and no aspirations” (I have a ton of aspirations if anyone would ever want to listen to me talk about them. *cough*).

When we were in greece this august to visit them he just came to me to complain about his gf and her sister (who i also was hella pissed of with but i had better things to do than waste my time on that and tried to enjoy myself elsewhere instead.) What upset me is how my dad, a british person (living in sweden and fluent in swedish) is trying to very hard to intergrate with greek culture (greeceboo literally, i’m not joking it’s not funny.) and i dont’ have anything against greece or greek culture BUT i do have something against my dad telling me to hurry up IN GREEK when we’re crossing a street like he’s some kind of controlling alpha or sdigpwshwgwihgwgwpoer gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah it pissses me off so fucking much yjrutesjrtjrtdjtjtrds

anyway he keeps telling me that these people I HAVE NEVER MET BEFORE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE are my cousins.

yes.

they are not.

and i told him when we were walking alone how uncomfortable it makes me and that they’re not my cousins and i want him to stop and instead of even trying to understand he snorts at me and calls me lame/ridiculous (löjlig). (did i mention that he also tries to sound like he has a greek accent, probs unknowingly but i called him out on it once and he awkwardly laugh a laugh that sayd he is aware of it) anyhow when my CoUsIn came to visit i didnt do anything with them or meet up, purposely bc the last time he visisted i was left out AS FUCK and then asked to give thme a ride into town -_- 

he also becomes oddly sexist and deragatory when he’s with them or in greece and he blames it on that “that’s how it is here.” WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? ok sure so youre gonne treat your own daughter differently just bc we’re in another country? it’s the same thing when we’re in the uk.

but that’s that and then there’s this other incident that is relevant when he once told me to put on some music in the car and i was like sure ok :) and scroll through my playlists and then he just cuts in before ive evene put on anything “But none of that chinese stuff” (referring to kpop)

first of all, chinese? ok... second of all WHAT DO U HAVE AGAINST IT WHEN U LITERALLY LISTEN TO FCKN GREEK MUSIC  and that made me very fcking sad because yet again I GET SHAMED FOR LIKING SOMETHING OR FOR BEING WHO I AM

I have talked about the bts concert on the phone, didn’t get much of a reaction and i havent even had the chance to show my photos from my trip or anything from the trip and im sure he wouldnt even like to look at it, just like when im trying to show my latest drawings for him he just says something short and basically im trying to be nice but u can hear in my voice that im not impressed nither do i care very much. 

So fine, go and CARE how much u want about my cOuSiN and get involved in his life and listen and watch and talk about what he has going for him, you obviously care more about them than you do about me.

You can’t even listen to me, you shame me for my interests, you literally neglect anything i’m excited about and change subject mid sentence. When I told him about how i didnt like the bakery he sounded almost mad like he didnt even understand and i tried to explain and then he cut me off mid sentence talking about something else and i told him bc i was so mad at that point for all of this THAT I WASNT DONE TALKING ABOUT IT and he just goes “Yeah yeah, you didnt like it.” literally show some emphapahy? 

all he keeps saying to me is “ full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job full time job” OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND IVE TOLD HIM I WANT TO STUDY UNI AND THAT I DONT WANT A FULL TIME JOB YET 39823985723524075295 TIMES BUT HE NEVER LISTENS! HE WOULDNT EVEN CARE MORE IF I GOT A FULL ONE, IM TRYING TO LIVE MY LIFE IM ALMOST 22 I WANT FREEDOM TO DO WHAT I LIKE AND TRAVEL AND EXPLORE BUT NOTHING OF THAT MATTER IM JUST A BORING PERSON IN HIS EYES WITH NO ASPIRATIONS, INTERESTS OR GOALS I GUESS

IM so fckn done with this