#norwegian cinderella

[hana-loves-bumblebees]

Something I don’t at all understand about Norwegians remaking Three nuts for Cinderella (Tři oříšky pro Popelku) is the claim to make it more feminist like

I think this is like the ONE version of Cinderella that’s feminist, especially for its time. It’s got the main heroine be strong, capable, tough and need no man to save her and not waiting patiently for her life to turn around while also being an androgynous icon who slays in a hunter’s outfit as well as in a dress and is a good and kind person without losing her femininity.

No hate to the norwegian remake, but I just don’t think the “more feminist” argument works.

[dailyworldcinema]

THREE WISHES FOR CINDERELLA / TRE NØTTER TIL ASKEPOTT (2021) dir. Cecilie A. Mosli

[lovelyballetandmore]

Gabriel Gudim | Norwegian national ballet | Photos by Erik Berg

[doitinanotherlanguage]

Non-Anglo Movies You Should Watch 41/∞: Tre nøtter til Askepott (2021; Three Wishes for Cinderella), dir. Cecilie Mosli

Country: Norway

Language: Norwegian

Genre: Romantic Fantasy Adventure

Summary: Based on the beloved Czechoslovak/East German film Tři oříšky pro Popelku/Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel (1973), this Cinderella-story follows the heroine as she battles against her evil stepmother for her freedom and her dream of meeting the handsome prince.

[hellonearthmetalzine]

Cinderella's Ugly Stepsister Takes the Spotlight in New Norwegian Film

In 2025, Cinderella’s infamous stepsister will take center stage in a new Norwegian feature film directed by Emilie Blichfeldt. The classic tale of Cinderella is getting a fresh retelling, this time from the perspective of the ugly stepsister. “The Ugly Stepsister” marks Blichfeldt’s feature film debut, with Lea Myren (23), known from series like “Jenter” and “Familien Lykke,” stepping into the…

[adarkrainbow]

For the princess forced to cook, clean and whatnot, if there had been an Icelandic version I could have explained it, because I read a book about the "olden days" in Iceland and it explained how the lords and royalty of old Iceland did not live in "castles" as we understand it today, but rather lived in very big, very large farms - mega-farms if you want... But I don't think it applies to Sweden or Norway X)

Yes, the pumpkin into coach and similar transformations was an invention of Perrault - even in France we have identified that, since the old "folkloric" versions of the tale do not have any fairy godmother. Similarly, in French "countryside versions" the ball also becomes the mass at Church - I'll drift a bit around a general thing true in many European countries, but people tend to forget how important the Sunday mass was in old European countryside in Christian countries. It wasn't just a religious gathering each Sunday - it was also usually a time where the entire village gathered together in a same building, it was a time where people were forced to appear before each other and had to look good (not just for the Church, where you had to appear in your finest clothes, but also for others, because people could judge you on your behavior each Sunday - in many folktales fairy-wives or supernatural-brides are discriminated upon when they don't come to the big village mass each Sunday, or when they act weird there) ; and by extension, the Sunday mass was also the time for villagers all gathered here to strike various deals and bargains - ranging from an almost unofficial market to arranged weddings. It was a big, big social event, and thus explains why in many Cinderella versions it easily replaces a royal ball.

I am also going to comment I always kind of smile at the version of Cinderella or other abused-heroine where she is secretly fed by a magical animal because in several I found out, there is an explicit mention of the heroine becoming fat due to the magical animal's help, and so we have canon plus-size Cinderellas in these stories. Body-positivity wins in folktales Xp

It is so fascinating to have a Cinderella meets Puss in Boots - due to the old "She-Cat in the ashes" and all that...

The mysterious hill where disembodied voices speak is definitively an elf-hill (or a "hidden people hill", very typical of Northern Europe). It echoes well one of the stories the brothers Grimm had included in their first edition but then removed, about a girl passing each time by a mound where a little hand appeared from a crack offering her a gift - it was an elf that wanted to make her happy. But one day she asked for a knife and she cut off the elf's hand so it all would stop... It is one weird and cruel tale.

In Cinderella Tales From Around the World, I've now reached the tales from Sweden and Norway.

*In many of these variants, just like in many versions from Great Britain and Ireland and some from Denmark, the Cinderella character is a princess by birth, and her stepmother is a queen. At first it odd strange to me that a princess should be forced to clean, cook, and pasture animals, when royalty should have servants for those things. But then I remembered Disney's Snow White and how the wicked Queen forces Snow White to work as a scullery maid. In fairy tales, that sort of thing can happen.

*Whether there are two stepsisters or one can vary, though most often there's just one. But in all these versions, the heroine's abusers are a stepmother and stepsisters – neither Sweden nor Norway seems to have variants where she's abused by her biological family.

*In a few Swedish versions, the heroine is known as "Crow-Cloak," because her stepfamily forces her to wear a cloak of crow feathers. But in most others, as in other countries, she has a nickname related to cinders or ashes.

*The heroine's helpers in the Swedish versions come in a wide variety: a pike in a well, an ermine, an old man, a bird, a black ox, a midwife, a mountain troll, or even a magical apple, pear, and plum.

*The theme of the heroine being ordered to sort or prepare peas or grain, and her helper doing it for her, reappears in several versions.

*Almost all Swedish and Norwegian versions have the heroine go to church in her finery, not a ball or festival. Just one Swedish version, Askungen, has a ball instead, and that version seems heavily influenced by Perrault, because so far it's the only other version I've seen with a pumpkin transformed into a coach (along with rats into horses and caterpillars into footmen), and one of the very few where she has to leave by midnight.

*As in the Danish versions, the heroine usually says "Light before! Darkness behind!" to prevent anyone from following her from home to church or vice-versa.

*The theme of the stepsister(s) cutting her/their feet to make the shoe fit, but a bird revealing the trick, is once again constant.

*Several different Norwegian variants are called Kari Woodencloak, or in some English translations, Katie Woodencloak. As her name implies, this Cinderella figure does her dirty work wearing a dress made from boards of wood.

**The most famous of these versions, the one collected by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, is another variation on the "abused stepdaughter runs away with her magical bull" theme. Kari is a princess whose wicked queen stepmother tries to starve her, but the bull magically feeds her each day, until the stepmother finds out and plans to kill the bull, so they flee. The bull is forced to fight three trolls, which leaves him gravely wounded, and he implores Kari to kill him, then lay his skin under a stone. Sadly she obeys, and from then on whenever she knocks on that stone, her wishes are granted. The story then, of course, becomes a Donkeyskin/All-Kinds-of-Fur variant as she becomes a scullery maid at the castle of the prince, who treats her scornfully, only to fall in love with her when she comes to church dressed in magical finery.

***There are Swedish variants almost identical to this one too. Although they don't include the wooden dress, and in one of them, the bull is replaced by a white bear.

**There are other, simpler Kari Woodencloak tales too, though. One is like Cinderella meets Puss in Boots: Kari inherits only a pet cat when her parents die, so she and the cat set out to seek their fortune, she becomes a castle scullery maid, and the cat becomes her helper, who hunts animals and sells them to the king, then uses the money to buy finery for Kari. Others are more standard Cinderella tales where Kari doesn't leave home, but simply slaves for her stepmother; in one of these, she gets her finery from a mysterious hill where disembodied voices speak, and another is like a vastly simplified version of Asbjørnsen and Moe's, where the stepmother kills Kari's bull and Kari then gets her finery from his grave.

*There are many other Norwegian variants too. The heroine's various helpers in these versions include her mother's spirit, a bird, several birds, a mysterious old woman from inside a hill, or a fairy who appears from inside a lime tree and calls herself "the lime tree queen." (In virtually all the Scandinavian versions that include a magical tree, it's a lime tree, just like it's usually a hazel tree in Germany.)

*In some Norwegian versions, the stepmother is a sorceress who magically imprisons the father and forces him to marry her against his will at the beginning.

*At least two Norwegian versions continue after the heroine's marriage; her stepsister throws her into the sea and takes her place, but she comes back in the form of a duck, and her husband eventually breaks the spell.

Next stops: Finland, Estonia, and Russia.

@adarkrainbow, @ariel-seagull-wings, @themousefromfantasyland

[unstblmentally]

Dylann roof's favorite movies

• Pride and Prejudice (2005 #2)

• Pretty Poison (1968)

• Himizu - 2011- my personal favorite #1

• Norwegian Wood - 2010

• Romper Stomper - 1993 (-something something-no moralization)

• The Notebook - 2004

• Ladykillers - 1955

• Zatoichi

• Hidden Fortress

• Titanic 1999

• The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail

• Rebel Without a Cause

• 12 Years As a Slave - (even though it's anti-white and unrealistic, the cinematography is beautiful)

• Cold Fish - 2010

• Kuroneko-1960?

• Lolita (1962-1994?)

• Shadow of a Doubt (noted as Hitchcock film with Tereesa Wright - forgot the name)

• Clarie's Knee - (Rohmer, Eric)

• If... - 1968 - Great film despise leftist message

• Oh Boy - good film minus the bar scene, which practically ruins it

• Spirited Away (noted as "v good" i believe)

• Millennium Actress (noted as "v good")

• Totoro (noted as "v good" i believe)

• Ponyo (noted as "v good" i believe)

• Far From the Madding Crowd - 2015 - decent film

• The Dreamers (decent / ok)

• A Royal Affair (decent / ok)

• Pusher - 1996 - very degenarate (??) out very good, a favorite, lead actor a jew

• The Last Samurai - 2003 - Tom Cruise one witl the best actors to ever live

• "I have seen seperately 50-(couldn't get this word out, so sorry)- films and countless (?) other films. Films hold enormous power. I believe that costume dramas in particular air. A good way to make White people proud of their history and physical beauty. I believe only the most beautiful people should be allowed to act. This showers (or produces, or anything like that) pride in our race, when we see beautiful specimens of our people. A beautiful person can make a mediocre film wonderful."

• Cinderella - 2015 - great minus the token black friend

• The Great Gatsby - (1974) - new version was horrible

• Moss - 2010

• Old Jackie Chen film with dragon costume scenes (couldn't find this one:() Old Ti Lung films

[lavandulawrites]

It’s not properly Christmas before I have watched Three Wishes for Cinderella on Christmas Eve. It’s a Norwegian tradition to watch it 11:00pm every Christmas Eve. Even though the movie is from the Czech Republic, we watches a version of it that is dubbed by a famous actor (Knut Risan). It’s also shown on German, Swiss, Czech and Slovak television every Christmas (correct me if I’m wrong).

It’s a beautiful movie with feministic themes and the music is amazing. It’s a must watch and if you have the opportunity, I highly recommend it❤️

Merry Christmas!❤️

Is there any Christmas movies you watch every Christmas Eve as a tradition?

[bogkeep]

why did they make a norwegian remake of three wishes for cinderella. who is this for. norwegians can't even be convinced to make a new dub for the old one because it's Tradition to watch the old one?? it's one thing to make a New Cinderella Adaptation, but a remake??? of an existing adaptation??? strange choice

[noxiatoxia]

Op can we chat . hey op can you dm me.

if you follow me on letterboxd and see me watching literally every cinderella ever in a row (yeah even the 1899 one) mind your own business i have psychological problems

[pseudophan]

do you like cinderella (the 1973 east german/czechoslovak one)?

yeah! a norwegian christmas staple lmao. these days i unusually sleep through it on christmas eve though, the tv schedule simply wasn't designed for my nocturnal ass

[i-am-a--lionheart]

And now we are finally free

Prague, 18th of October 1918

He had shed so many tears for her during the last centuries, his soulmirror, his sister in anything but blood since centuries. Kjetil had expected anything and nothing from their visit to Vienna to court the Holy Roman Emperor on the eve of the Torestenson war - he had expected anything but to find a friend that would grow so close to his heart.

His own independence, finally, finally, had been agreed upon thirteen years ago, but Austria's grip around Czechia and Slovekia had still been tight, but now. Now they were here and Hedvika looked so stunning and he would have payed anything, anything to see her so happy and carefree but there was no need to, because now he had her. Now they had the freedom to see each other whenever they wanted. To reinvent themselves. To reconcil with those that they had lost. To forgive, but he wouldn't bring that up, he figured while helping her readjust the crown on her head.

Her smile was worth the stars, and he made sure that she knew. He had made sure she knew her worth during her Dark times like she had made sure he wouldn't give up on himself during the four hundred years or night. If this wasn't the purest form of love, then what was?

Art commissioned by Vy Bóis on Tumblr

Czechia and Norway was never a pair I was thinking about until realising that, like the Germans, the Norwegians are all in love with Three Wishes for Cinderella - and that the Norwegian government funded the restauration of classical Czech movies.

Then I dug deeper and realised that a lot of historical struggles are similar for the both of them, like loss of language, loss of cultural and historical importance and a foreign empire that ruled over them in an absolute manner.

Together with a dear fellow rper I have been exploring this ship for ages and as always with my rarepairs, i got them commissioned by talented Vy Bói!

[sparkles-and-trash]

One of Norway’s most beloved Christmas Traditions; at 11 am everyone watched a czech Cinderella movie from 1973, badly dubbed by one (1) Norwegian man 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

It’s also Touya’s favorite, to nobody’s surprise

[theonethatwatchesalotofshows]

Enough with the woke remakes of old Disney classics where every princess is a raging girlboss and a feminist. We don't need it. Are they aware that other versions of those princesses already exist? Take the East German/Czechoslovak version of Cinderella. There Cinderella is a sassy badass who actually stands up for herself and shoots a crossbow better than the prince without it being obnoxious or too in your face with *the message*. And guess what in the end, despite being a strong female character, she marries her prince and lives happily ever after, because love doesn't make a woman weak.

There is also a Norwegian Cinderella and German versions of all the old Grimm fairy tales (including Snow White), and I bet many more. So why do we need a new Disney version that is "updated for modern audiences"? No one asked for it and I bet no one needs it. Enough with the remakes.

[oh-saints]

sunshine becomes you (pt. 4)

Being a footballer means Martin possibly has every resources in his whim. Well, except the one thing he needs now is only available in the hands of his (ex) girlfriend.

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word Count: 4.0k

Note: please, please, please don't hate me for this lolol but we're going for a rollercoaster, odegirlies, so brace yourself! but as usual, i happen to write this around dawn so ofc not beta-read yet. feedbacks are welcome tho!

Tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc <3<3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

It seemed Martin couldn’t operate around her if there was no false pretense standing between him and Eve.

The moment the clock literally struck 12, lightning struck back Eve’s life and returned them to normalcy. So normal that everyone else but her barely noticed the apparent changes unravelling around London Colney; she was back to Eve the receptionist, and Martin was back to his constantly-grumpy state to no one but Eve.

No more was the beautiful-looking couple captivating the entire Christmas Gala with their explosive, fantastic chemistry that shunned even the longest relationship existing in the same room.

She’d like to think going back to square one was better, given their real circumstances, but Martin wasn’t giving her any edges. Worse, he’d gone barely seen, and that was saying a lot when Eve was known to be the ghost of the building, for her immaculate presence all over the facility.

Some said he snuck in when Eve was always busy running errands; some said he arrived before anyone else in the morning; some said he clocked out later than the security team.

Final straw came when everyone was gathering in the canteen to bid Eve farewell on her very last day of working in the amazing club. Every single person working at London Colney—including Bob, even—applauded her for the fantastic job she’d been doing for the club, despite the short time shared on the grounds. A certain Norwegian blonde, however, remained unidentifiable until the 15-minute town hall before lunch ended.

Much to the front liner’s dismay, most turned to Eve about it. After all, Eve and Martin were still an item in their eyes. Eve could only do so much as replying, “we just don’t want you guys to be sick of us,” whenever the question of Martin’s avoidance towards crowds was raised, while chucking in the tears that were threatening to slide down her cheeks because she knew better—she knew the truth.

It shouldn’t be breaking Eve’s heart, but the damage had been done.

Eve wanted to badly lie to herself that she was doing that out of spite, that pulling out that degree of stupid stunt was her futile, foolish attempt to get him running after her like those chick-flicks she stashed in her library.

But Eve knew better—reality didn’t fit into Cinderella’s pair of glass heels, especially for someone like her, who fought for proper living standard every day to make ends. Eve and Martin were raised in different circumstances, made from worlds apart, meant for different purposes in life. There was no way they were going to be together—not in this lifetime nor any other alternate universes—as this wasn’t some written fairy tales.

She couldn’t afford a heartbreak when she’d foreseen the fruitless future if she were to share one with him, just like she couldn’t afford the gown she’d returned in the same satin box he’d delivered to her door.

This is for the better, she hypnotised herself as she placed the soft, expensive box on Martin’s bench, trying to pale the ache slicing through her chest. You have a realistic life to live.

Fuck rom-coms. She was going to discard each and every one left in her library as soon as she enjoyed her two-week notice.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

Obviously, with that being said, Eve didn’t have the heart to throw away the only outlets for her to escape the harsh reality for someone who came from a working-class family and inherited the reality of working 9-to-5 like her. Especially when those fake-dating tropes—ironically—reminded her of all the wonderful time she spent with Martin, no matter how fleeting and fragile those moments were.

Weeks after the Christmas Gala, Eve could now proudly say she thought of them as something precious because when else were you indulged in the luxury of being in Martin Ødegaard’s arms, acting or not?

Her best friend bit her ears off for taking the whole thing “like a champ”, as if her heart was made of steel when she was legitimately allowed to swallow the bitter pill while crying her heart out. Eve actually considered doing them, specifically during the first week after the painful no-show of her last day, but she decided against in and focused on the positive notes.

Dwelling over negatives wouldn’t turn around the fact that someone as great as Martin Ødegaard was destined for someone his calibre, someone that was definitely not Eve.

So it didn’t make any sense when she found Martin, already leaning against his car with hands in his pocket—undoubtedly hiding them against the cold air of a very early morning—as she walked down the porch of her flat. From where she stood, frozen at the unprecedented event unfolding before her eyes, his side profile gave away nothing but pursed lips, like he was holding off his thoughts from spilling.

Oh, how much Eve wanted a penny for that beautiful mind of his.

But she couldn’t. Unlike the night of the Christmas gala, Martin revoked her access to them. What used to be something easy for Eve to read between the lines was now guarded by a fence so high it put Wall of China to shame.

“Martin,” At his name being called, the owner of the name stood up straight, and—god damn it—Eve’s heart raced at the movement, for it reminded her of what happened between them in front of that sketchy backdoor toilet. “What are you doing here?

Despite being missing on action for weeks, Eve hated how much Martin still affected her, body and soul. She wasn’t even nearby Martin, distance between them were about 100 metres but might as well have the Atlantic between them like they used to be.

But no matter the palpable distance between where they respectively stood, Martin, on the other hand, would always be able to pick up her signature breathy voice that went only slightly above a whisper. It was the very sound he didn’t know he could miss hearing.

Like she was breathless, like he’d taken her breath away. The same way she did his.

If only he could tell her that… But instead of mulling over endless possibilities that couldn’t happen—not when Eve herself didn’t give them a chance, something she’d blatantly said at the end of Christmas gala—Martin stuck to the one thing he excelled at; choosing reality.

“Angel,” Words flowed effortlessly from Martin’s mouth but his smile was rather tight on the corners, and Eve hated it already when she knew first hand how blinding his real, true smile could be. “I see you’re going to the flower market.”

Had Eve’s eyes not focused on taking in Martin’s appearance, she would’ve swooned at the fact Martin remembered her little peculiar antics of getting a fresh set of flowers every Sunday from the flower market.

But his dishevelled presentation, so striking to the well-kempt display he always had everywhere, stole away her attention. It wasn’t only the mess on top of his hair, of his blonde locks gone astray to every direction; it was also the garments he threw on without a care in the world, all in black, like he was mourning.

His blue eyes descended to the deepest pit of the ocean, no longer shining in the glint she loved the most, especially bright against low lights. Like those eyebags were swallowing them whole, like those eyebags were a blackhole instead of dark circles.

His cheeks sunken, no longer protruding as high as a skyscraper, so different to the image of a Viking everyone labelled the captain as. If Eve didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed Martin had undergone those cosmetic surgery of buccal fat removal.

He looked so haggard, as if he’d lost weight; exhaustion personified. She could only wonder why—perhaps Arsenal’s losing strike took a toll on him—since asking his well-being was not on the cards anymore, not since they stopped pretending to be lovers, not since Martin didn’t give them a chance.

Martin took his open opportunity when they fell into a pregnant silent. “I’ll take you there.”

“Why are you here?”

“I said I’m taking you to the flower market,” He said, as easy as the wind breezed past them. “What kind of boyfriend am I to let my girlfriend to roam around such crowded places so early in the morning?”

The indifference he showed, both in words and action, caught her off-guard. He was back to display the whole no-shit-sherlock attitude around her, complete with the expressionless face, like she should know the most obvious fact, and Eve had to remind herself that this was the real Martin, not the one that fooled everyone attending the Christmas gala.

Including Eve herself.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Martin.”

“In the eyes of the public, I am,” Martin shrugged his shoulder so nonchalantly, as if it didn’t hurt Eve to know he was doing just fine barging into her life like it was the most natural thing to do for him. “My family included.”

Wait, what?

“I need your help,” He continued, his hands moved from the pockets of his jacket to the pockets of his jeans. It scared Eve when he said those massive, literally burdensome words with squared shoulders and calm demeanour and collected composure—she felt like she was his opponent on the pitch. “My family went to the game today, only to be ambushed by many congratulations that I’ve scored a wonderful, lovely match of a girlfriend. One that that they don’t know of because it’s one I never tell them—”

“Because she doesn’t exist.”

“She did during the gala, but that’s not the point,” Martin had to grind out his teeth from the inside, the perfect epitome how her words gnawed his heart from inside out because while they were nothing but facts, it didn’t make them any less hurtful to him—and to what could’ve been between them. “They want to have lunch with you today.”

Martin let out the last sentence with a heavy puff of breath. With the way his jaw ticked tightly, Eve could tell he hated saying that, like he’d take any other option but to ask her to pretend once more if he had the chance.

Maybe he’d told his family about us pretending but his family didn’t accept such a ridiculous pretense that they forced him to talk to her, and that the lunch was merely their effort to amend them. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” See, he even wished to have nothing to do with me anymore. Did he hate me so much? “You should know by now that being honest with you is something I wish to uphold.”

 “Even when our relationship is a farce?”

Martin didn’t have the heart to answer it, and Eve didn’t have the heart to acknowledge the pregnant silence.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“You had a game today, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Boyfriend or not, Martin really intended to come along by Eve’s side to the flower market, despite her initial protests and complaints. No one in the right mind went to the flower market alone at 2 in the morning, without a proper transportation on top of that.

Taxi and Uber certainly didn’t count as a safety mode of transportation for Martin. You never know what can possibly happen in that small space of four-wheeler—we’ve seen too much of real-life cases that happens to women.

I’ve been doing this for ages, but she failed to realise that just because something never happened to her, it wasn’t going to happen. In Martin’s defence, he had a sister himself and he didn’t want anything bad happen to Eve the way he didn’t want them to happen to his sister.

I am used to this, Martin, but she didn’t have to get used to those things. She didn’t have to get used to all these dangerous things she downplayed as normalcy because he knew that she had the options, she’d definitely want to take the tube or buses. She could be having what her heart desires—she should be.

No matter what went down between them at the end of the day, Martin would certainly give her a flak if she settled with someone less than what she deserved.

And no, that lucky bastard didn’t have to be Martin.

It wasn’t going to be Martin anyway, Eve made it clear at the very end of their contractual relationship once a long while ago.

“Can’t sleep well lately, anyway.”

Martin’s phlegmatic manner was now in sync—his actions were now as schooled as his facial features. His hands ran down the flower petals thoughtlessly, not giving anything of his mind away, just like his hardened expressions. Aloof, and Eve took it as a sign to reduce her small talks.

“You should see Doc about it.”

“You think I haven’t done that?” Eve’s hearts plummeted along with the way he sputtered the words, as if she should be smarter about the whole ordeal, and this time Eve was the one who had to school her expression so Martin couldn’t see her disappointment towards his attitude—he must not see them. The last time she gave away too much of her, she ended up doing rom-coms marathon with a tube of Ben n Jerry’s. “Doc’s prescribed me something but it’s no use,”

It might be the stress talking…, Eve tried to reason with herself.

“I don’t see the point of meds, to be honest,” Martin let out another heavy sigh as his hand ran through his hairs, messing them in frustrations. “Not when I’ve been restless since you’re gone.”

How could she possibly have a proper response to that?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“There they are!”

Martin didn’t even have the chance to open Eve’s door completely before his mother ran down the porch towards his car to engulf Eve in the warmest hug Eve had ever gotten from a woman. Funny—despite never meeting his mother before, Eve had the most familiar feeling around her, like they were old friends reunited, and she didn’t know what to feel.

Partly because she didn’t share the same sentiment with her own mother, partly because she felt guilty that his mother had already welcomed her in this house like she was truly Martin’s girlfriend when, in fact, she wasn’t even close to what the word meant.

It didn’t even take his mother a minute to lead her towards the house, like she owned the residential instead of a visiting his son’s abode, asking if Eve had any food allergy that she should be aware of. That was amongst the things she questioned; others were trivial questions in order to get to know his son’s girlfriend.

With the swift pace his mother was speaking, though, Eve had to look beyond his mother’s shoulder to throw a help-me look to Martin because there was no way she could survive this on her own.

Eve couldn’t bring to hate herself for always seeking Martin’s aid this time around, no matter how much she wanted to be free of him. Like she promised herself internally just before she plopped down beside Martin on the passenger seat.

“That’s enough, mamma,” Martin strode his way towards the two of them, one hand reached for his mother’s that was grippling the life of Eve to set Eve free, before both hands clenched her shoulder gently. “She hasn’t even taken off her coat, but she’s allergic to shrimp and other soft-shell seafood.”

“Oh no, I’ve made crayfish—”

“It’s okay, she can have your venison,” Eve didn’t have time to discern anything because everything happened at the same time she didn’t even have time to breathe, not even the fact that Martin had gained information on her allergies, so she was lucky Martin took over the conversation. She shed her coat when Martin wordlessly tugged the wool piece, both of their eyes still set on the powerhouse that was his mother, and at that interaction, the matron smiled wider. “By the way, my mother makes the best venison, solskinn. Glad you can finally try them.”

“Ah, the infamous roasted venison you love? What’s that called again?”

“Dyresteg,” His mother answered for her, before Martin could have the chance. At the speed of lightning his mother unknowingly possessed—at least, one that he got to know of until today, in front of Eve, more over—Martin forced himself to look up from the set of eyes that reminded him of the deer but belonged to Eve. “I see that Martin’s told you about his soulfood.”

“He can’t shut up about it,” Eve elbowed Martin teasingly and the man replied by faking pain at it, which resulted in them both laughing without constraint. Without an underlying justification called fake dating between them. “Maybe I should learn one thing or two while the master is here so I can cook them for you.”

“That’s—” Eve’s response, however, startled both Martin and his mother. While Martin was rather taken aback at the genuine tone Eve used—because now he really couldn’t draw the line which one was the real Eve, unlike the night of the Christmas gala—his mother was caught off guard because she couldn’t recall the last time someone had ever offered to do such thing for Martin. Living in a different country meant she couldn’t cook her son’s favourite dish whenever she wanted to, and so far the girlfriends her son managed to take home didn’t care about anything beyond the luxury he could give them. “That’s very lovely of you. I hope you bring your notes.”

But to say she liked Eve already would be an understatement. Eve didn’t make it difficult to take her into everyone’s good side, as well, and as a mother, Eve had nailed in the moment she typed down every instruction she was giving Eve to make the perfect dyresteg. And maybe also little moments where Martin stole little pecks on her cheeks from behind whenever he was getting his brothers and sisters something from the fridge—because she knew her son only did that out of gratitude, the same way he used to do it to his mother whenever she was cooking this particular favourite dish of his.

At one point of cooking, everyone was flocking the kitchen and before they knew it, Martin’s brothers and sisters were already drilling the Norwegian captain’s embarrassing stories during childhood.

“Do you remember the time where he got lost because he followed someone he thought was mamma?”

“No way!” Eve’s eyes bulged out in pure surprise that Martin couldn’t help but laugh, instead of stopping his older brother’s beginning of Martin’s most embarrassing anecdote. “What happened?”

Martin’s mother noticed Eve’s focus was slowly shifting from dyresteg to the tale Christoph was giving so she dismissed the younger woman, only for Eve to realise there was no seat left on the kitchen island.

Martin didn’t think twice to pull her by the waist towards him, “Come here.”

“This feels oddly familiar,” Eve laughed under her breath, not wanting to disrupt Christoph’s flow in retelling his story, but enough only for Martin to hear, as she settled in the room between his legs. “Don’t tell me to sit on your lap again this time, we have your youngest sister watching.”

“Yes, mother,” Their position, her back on his front, eased up Martin’s way to reply her in a whisper, and they fell back to the smooth flow they had constructed during the Christmas gala. “I will behave.”

And behave he did. Without further words, Martin gave up his seat for Eve while he stood by behind her. His mother didn’t miss the way Martin never let go of Eve, always having an arm around the woman’s waist at least.

She also didn’t miss the way they’d look at each other when laughing, the way her hand covered the one Martin was placing around her hips, or the way he’d kissed the small spot on the temple above her ears while she stroke his square jawline back and forth. At one point, Eve laughed so hard at Christoph’s story that Martin had to envelope her into a back hug and hid himself in the crook of her neck so naturally it almost felt like watching water moulding into a medium’s shape.

She wanted to be jealous, as a mother, but she realised that her son was slowly building a life—his own life—here with someone he truly loved, and as a mother, she couldn’t be happier than knowing someone had taken care of her son very well, especially when he was living too far from her for a mother’s liking.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“Let me help you with that.”

Eve almost dropped the plate on her hands at Martin’s voice creeping from behind. She insisted on washing the dishes—or putting them to the dishwasher, depends on your standard—not because she wanted to play the good girlfriend card, but because she was raised that way; if someone else cooks, dishes are on her shoulder.

She was used to be misunderstood by other about it but before she could explain herself, Martin stepped in and said, “Let her be, Mom. She’s always like that and I can never win.”

Creepy would be an understatement of how well Martin knew things she never had disclosed to anyone.

“You should’ve told me you have such a big family,” Eve tried to break the ice that stood between them, so thin it was barely there, but present nonetheless, especially with the way they stood so close with one another. Shoulder to shoulder, Martin reached for utensils and ceramics Eve finished cleaning. “I would’ve come more prepared in facing your brothers and sisters.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Martin said, and although Eve didn’t see them, she could sense a small smile blossomed in his face. “I hope they don’t overwhelm you.”

“Not at all,” But Eve had to chuckle because come to think of it, Martin’s brothers and sisters could be overwhelming. Maybe they’d got under her skin if she was not pretending to be Martin’s girlfriend. “They’re all so fun to be around with. I wish I have siblings to banter with like yours.”

Martin laughed at Eve’s teasing jab. He could never live down the stupid anecdotes his siblings shared when he was just a kid, could he now?

“So grateful you don’t work at Arsenal anymore,” He crouched down to insert all of the cleaned dishes to the dishwasher. “What a disaster if you spill them to everyone at Colney.”

It wasn’t supposed to rub Eve in all the wrong way but it somehow did. Was he that truly glad to be rid of her?

“Please don’t let me stop that.”

Eve looked up to Martin, who was now standing towering over her, eyes zeroed down on her with a look she couldn’t decipher. And maybe she didn’t want to figure out what lied beneath them, for she was terrified the answer would only hurt her. It was something she found out just now that Martin was rather good at it.

She gave him a small smile to hide what she was thinking, grounding herself to not give any piece of her away and reminding herself the last time she did give herself away, and Martin already hated them. Eve and coerced smile didn’t belong in the same sentence. “Stop what?”

“You smiling. I’ve missed that a lot.”

*solskinn means sunshine in norwegian.

[therealvinelle]

What are the winter holidays like in your country?

Here in the US we have the ridiculousness of Thanksgiving, which the Addams Family movie does a good job of lambasting for celebrating the aftermath of indigenous genocide with another false "just so" story. And then there's Black Friday. Really november's got a lot of overconsumption going on.

And the entire month of December is filled with Christmas decorations in every store and music on the radio and stuff; in the west and north it's more santa clauses and happy holidays, but in the south I've seen like big christmas-themed Jesus murals painted on the side of a Burger King, which felt very strange. As a non-christian it's quite jarring.

... this came off more negative than I intended, honestly. We've got beautiful national parks and I love wandering the woods in winter, enjoying the snow on the pines, drinking warm cocoa. They even sell chestnuts for roasting at the grocery, despite the chestnut blight of the 1900s nearly wiping that tradition off the map.

So, uh, winter holidays?

Sounds exactly like Norway, then. We've even adopted Black Friday, thanks to Norwegian online stores having to compete with American online stores (which were doing Black Friday) and then it migrating to physical stores. And now we have Black Week.

Christmas too has changed from what it was, again echoing what's happened in America though it's more recent here. It starts around November here too now, and I think most people can agree it sucks.

Otherwise Christmas is lovely, with hallmark movies like the Chzechoslovakian-East German movie Three wishes for Cinderella (provided it's the legendary dub), Home Alone, and the skit Dinner For One, church, and hopefully snow.

Traditional Norwegian Christmas foods and drinks include pork ribs (we used to be poor, you see), lye fish (fish treated with lye for preservation), rakfisk (fish fermented for preservation), gløgg (spicy mulled wine, can be alcohol free), and frozen pizza.

(You might have wondered why we are known for our beautiful nature, not our cuisine. Here's why. Come to think of it you guys have it pretty good in America.)