To jest właśnie ta dynamika relacji

Grafika wzięłam z pinteresta x

Thinking about the idea of same as it never was Leon and breaking my heart :(

With the main story done it's time to finish it's time to tackle the DLC! Time to set saiw on the sweven sweas with our good sweal fwiends!~

Riddarholmen (YR Oneshot)

Sooo... Somebody watched Queen Elizabeth’s funeral today and it inspired them to write their very first fanfic ever.  Let me present you: Wilhelm walking his mother to the grave.

Trigger warnings: death, cancer, anxiety.

_____________________________________________________

Riddarholmen

”I can’t believe that she’s really in there,” Wilhelm uttered quietly, barely opening his mouth. He didn’t want to draw the attention of the cameras to himself any more than he had to. From the corner of his eye he saiw his father shake his head, heavy with sorrow.

“She isn’t,” Ludvig whispered, “she’s gone.”

For me and my late brother, Queen Kristina was Mamma. She was a caring, loving mother. All that reflected also in the way she ruled our nation. Her love and affection belonged first and foremost to Sweden and Swedish people.

That was what Wilhelm had said in his speech a week ago, little after his mother had died. They had let him write the speech himself, for once. And for once, no one had tried to change anything. It was a beautiful speech, they’d said. How Wilhelm had put his own sorrow aside and talked about the Queen as the mother of all Swedes, beautiful indeed. Little did they know, Wilhelm had thought, that he had only been honest. Mamma had tried to be a good mother for him and Erik, but she had always thought of Sweden first. And, in her mind, the wellbeing of Sweden had been the same thing as the wellbeing of the monarchy.

Now her reign was over and she lied in there, in a lead-plated coffin that was pulled by horses towards Riddarholmen’s church, where she would be given her final blessings. Wilhelm, his father and the others walked behind the Queen, as they always had. Step after step, the procession slowly went on. Wilhelm felt the weight of anxiety start growing in his chest. There was nothing he could do but walk.

I can only give my deepest devotion to the people of Sweden and hope that one day I can fill the void that she’s left behind, as the King.

It was an autumn’s day, just like Erik’s funeral had been. Just like then, the island of Riddarholmen was covered in yellow leaves. And just like then, the world watched as the royal family walked one of their loved ones towards their last voyage. The park was filled with people: soldiers, police, royal staff, journalists. Their walk was accompanied by cameras and the quiet mourning of the Swedes who had gathered in the park to say goodbye to their Queen. They sobbed and filmed and Wilhelm wanted to go to them, jump over the fences and disappear into the crowd. 

As they came near to the church, Wilhelm could feel the weight in his chest take a stronger hold of him. Like the lead in the Queen’s coffin, it spread around his insides and made them heavy, made him heavy. 

Riddarholmen’s church was a small, medieval church, plain in comparison to the cathedral in the city, but still beautiful. Wilhelm had always liked it, but it was a place of heavy memories. It was the same church that had held Erik’s last ceremony.

And it was the same church where, two years ago, Wilhelm himself had gotten married.

It is a time of deep sorrow.

That was the only sentence in his speech in which he hadn’t been completely honest. He felt sorrow about Mamma’s death, that was true, but he also felt relief. It had never been easy between him and Mamma, him and the Queen. He had never been the crown prince she had set her hopes in. And she had never really gotten through Erik’s passing. As years had gone by, her sorrow had turned into bitterness. When she had fallen ill and been diagnosed with an aggressively spreading cancer, Wilhelm had thought to himself that it had been the never ending mourning for Erik that had turned Mamma’s own body into a war against itself. When the family had been told that she was not going to survive, Mamma herself had seemed relieved too. She was finally about to be reunited with Erik.

The place of Wilhelm’s wedding had been one of his biggest confrontations with her. To have the crown prince’s wedding in the funeral church, where previous royals had even been buried – that was unheard of, let alone inappropriate. Mamma had tried her hardest to make the wedding happen her way, in Stockholm’s Cathedral, like everyone expected. But for once, Wilhelm’s will had been stronger. He had reminded her of all the times she had told him that for Wilhelm, carrying the responsibility of being the heir was the only way to give some kind of meaning to Erik’s death. I want people to remember him, Wilhelm had told her. If I’m going to give my life, and my marriage, and everything to the crown, I want them to remember that I only do it because of Erik.

And finally, she had given in.

It had been a beautiful wedding. A warm summer’s day, like a dream. The ceremony had been described as traditional and elegant. One of a kind. Admired through television by millions. 

But for Wilhelm, the ceremony with all the traditions, with the priest’s big speech about God and the Queen’s favourite passages of the Bible, with the choir, the flowers, the world’s leaders sitting there and witnessing one of the biggest moments of his life along with the television cameras, all of it, had meant nothing. It had all been a theatre he had only agreed to set up for Mamma and for the crown. Now, two years after, it all felt like a blur to him. He only remembered one thing clearly.

Queen Kristina always used to say that being royal is a privilege, not a punishment.

The lead inside of Wilhelm’s body turned heavier as he stepped through the church’s arched entrance. He started to breathe quicker, he couldn’t help it, and suddenly he felt the fear coming – fear of the people surrounding them, the cameras, the sounds, the lights, everything. He knew where this was heading to.

My mother passed away with a great love for Sweden and a great trust in our future. As the King, I intend to fulfill that trust.

And then, a warm hand. A tight, but soft, grip around Wilhelm’s shaking right palm. Wilhelm smiled, only a little, a smile that was almost only a thought, and felt a warm wave of safety inside of him. This was what he remembered from his wedding day. The most important part of the big theatre here in Riddarholmen. 

The hand. Simon’s hand. Holding his when they had walked down the aisle after the ceremony, their first steps as a married couple. Simon’s promise of being with Wilhelm, through thick and thin, even if it meant being royals. Simon loving him, him getting to love Simon.

They sat down in the first row, his father on one side and Simon on the other. The coffin was placed on the altar before them.

“How are you?” Simon asked quietly. His dark brown eyes wandered around Wilhelm’s face, worried but comforting.

“Okay,” Wilhelm said with his voice stuck in his throat. Simon tightened his grip and brushed the back of Wilhelm’s hand with his thumb. Of course he knew that Wille was not okay. This was not the time or place for an embrace, but the hand was his way of saying to Wilhelm: we are going to get through this. We are in this together.

The lead in Wilhelm’s body started melting into an ocean of warm, salty tears that gathered up behind his eyes. He squeezed Simon’s hand and got another firm, warm squeeze back. He glanced at his father. Ludvig looked at them with his eyes covered in tears too.

And then, finally, Wilhelm let go. He let the tears pour out of him, wet his cheeks and lips and the collar of his white shirt, and he felt like he was just a kid, all alone against an enormous challenge, supposed to be the new king of his country, with too little time to prepare and no one to help, but at the same time he knew that Mamma had left him here with the one person he needed by his side to get through it all. She had known. She had left him with Simon.

And as the choir started to sing, Wilhelm stared at the coffin and in his mind said what he really wanted Mamma to hear.

Thank you.

________________________________________________________

i'm so sowwy mr fwint bwack saiws but you have been set aside for now.

I dont wanna have to start over for like rhe 50th timr fick s saiw

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genword series: large inventory predef

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For your consideration, Wukong holding MK under one arm, Mei under the other, and Red Son with his tail. It's bonding with the kiddos time! (And no, they don't get a say in this)

This was a very good consideration

Baza: x

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English etymology of the day: sea (n.). Old English sæ “sheet of water, sea, lake, pool,” from Proto-Germanic *saiwa-. The origins of Proto-Germanic *saiwa- is largely unknown, as the PIE root world for sea/body of water is *mori- (English mere “pool, small lake, pond,” from Old English mere “sea, ocean, lake, pool,” Proto-Germanic *mari, also the source of German Meer and Dutch meer). It bares a semblance, however, to Gothic mari-saiws “lake”.

The two hurried outside, rushing to the little girl. "Hey-uh...cap's kid!"

The girl turned, recognition flashing in her eyes and she toddled over. "Daddee?" She looked around.

Jordan glanced at Jack helplessly as Jack awkwardly offered the girl his hand. He didn't know where the captain lived, or stayed when they were here! So..."I can take you to the ship?"

"Saiw!" She beamed happily, nodding as she took his hand.

Jack breathed out in relief. "Okay, sail, right. And no more drinking for us, I guess. Fuck." He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "Alright, mate, let's go!"

The two men walked the girl to the ship, listening as she babbled happily, stringing the words she knew together, before they came to the gangplank.

"Alright...up we go." Jack hefted the girl into his arms, carrying her up onto the ship.

The girl beamed brightly. "Ship!!!"

Jordan laughed softly. "Yeah, ship. That's where we are. Welcome to your dad's boat."

Jack grinned. "Oh, we can teach you her name, huh, lass?"

"Where the fuck did she go?!" Wilbur was setting into full on panic.

She would have been able to wander pretty far now and that was if someone hadn't just swept her off! He didn't know where his niece was, his son was starting to get upset they couldn't find his friend, Wilbur was starting to get upset-!

"Will?" Techno questioned. "What are you doing?"

Oh, he was fucked...So very fucked...

Somewhewe in the depths of space. In the faw distance, hawdwy distinct fwom any of the othew staws she couwd see, the sun of Vawhöww gwimmewed cowdwy. Its wight was onwy pawtwy occwuded by a sowaw saiw as it unfuwwed and began to decewewate the Mechanyisms into theiw nyext twagedy. Nyastya sized up the vectows with the hewp of a powtabwe computew. Then she gave the dead wump of metaw in fwont of hew the gentwest of pushes. It dwifted away fwom hew and began its swow spiwaw downwawds into the heawt of the nyeawby system and eventuaw cwemation in the heawt of the staw.

(>~<)

Awweady the fweezing tempewatuwe of the void was beginnying to seep into hew body, nyo mattew how hawd hew bwood fought to keep it at bay. She anxiouswy checked the cawcuwations on the computew once mowe. Aww was weww. The Auwowa’s wast jouwnyey was waid pewfectwy out in fwont of hew. Nyastya fwoated in the dawknyess, feewing hew wimbs gwow heavy. She jack-knyifed untiw she was facing away fwom hew ewstwhiwe companyions – womantic and othewwise. She wondewed when she wouwd end up whewe. And with hew wast fwickew of consciousnyess befowe hew bwain gwound to a hawt, she hoped she wouwd nyot mind it when she eventuawwy woke up.