arwynnesmg9

[kissmefriendly]

Why, when I’m ready to go and feeling confident and wanting to meet someone, do I lose all of my ability to attract another human person, but when I’m just trying get groceries at 8pm looking like I haven’t seen the sun in years and generally extremely tired and unsexy - why do people try it with me?? Why then! Why now! I am Unprepared! I need to get this milk home so it doesn’t spoil! Your lips are kissable but I am so hungry! My guard was down, damn it!

[idesignedthefjords]

RSS fic: He thought it said ‘Satan’

A Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for @spottytonguedog! She prompted “He thought it said Satan”.  The inspiration for this fic came from this meme but don’t click until you’ve read the story!

Thank you @rumbellesecretsanta team for being my beta :) I was freaking out.

Summary: Belle tells Baelfire stories about her land and her Christmas customs. She tells the story of Santa Claus, and how children from her land send him letters and wish lists by placing them near the fireplace with some milk and mince pies.

Rumple finds the letter and chaos ensues. 

Dark Castle AU where Baelfire lives with Belle and Rumpelstiltskin in the Dark Castle.

AO3 link

Belle had been at the Dark Castle for several months now. It took her awhile to get used to Rumpelstiltskin and his young son Baelfire, and they had to get used to her too. Belle didn’t seem afraid of The Dark One, and she certainly wasn’t afraid of Baelfire. The boy was just as lonely as his father, since there were no other children in the castle, and the children from the surrounding villages didn’t want to play with him; too afraid to be turned into snails.

But now that Belle was settled, Baelfire seemed to be much happier. They often went exploring the castle and the surrounding gardens, and when Rumple gave her a library she would read stories to him after dinner or tell the stories of her childhood. They were the same ones her mom told her.

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

The castle being in the mountains meant it got cold fast. The curtains Belle pulled from the windows were back in their place. This time Rumpelstiltskin put them back on, not wanting Belle to put herself in danger again, and risking him not being near to catch her.

“It would be a bad investment if I lost my maid already!” he teased.

“Just admit that you like me and you care about me,” Belle replied.

Before Rumpelstiltskin could reply, Baelfire barged in and interrupted them. “Papa it’s snowing outside! Can we go outside and play?”

“I still have to make some potions Bae, but you can ask Belle to go with you,” Rumpelstiltskin replied.

Once Belle and Baelfire were dressed for the cold weather, and outside the castle grounds, Baelfire started building a snowman. Belle fed the few birds who dared to fly high in the mountains some birdseed. When the snowman was finished, Belle offered Baelfire her scarf to put around its neck.

“It’s getting dark Bae, let’s get inside to warm up before I start dinner.” Belle suggested after making sure the scarf was tied properly.

“Oh please Belle, can we stay for a bit longer? Do you want to have a snow fight?” Baelfire pleaded.

“Well, seeing as I just gave up my scarf for your snowman, I think I’ll pass,” Belle replied. But when she saw Baelfire's face drop she added: “But we can make snow angels? It’s something we used to do in Avonlea. Did you ever make one? It’s really easy! Just lay down on the snow, with your arms and legs stretched.” 

Baelfire immediately dropped down. 

“Ok and now what do I do?” he asked.

“Now you  wave your arms up and down and move your legs from side to side.” Belle explained. “Now stand up carefully and you can see the snow angel!”

“Wow this looks beautiful! What else did you do in Avonlea?” Baelfire asked, while making another snow angel.

“You know what, I will tell you once we get inside.” Belle shivered. “We did have some special celebrations during the Yule. I haven’t heard you talk about Santa Claus? He was very important during our celebrations. I can tell you all about him if you like?”

That sparked Baelfire's attention. The promise of another story from Belle, and especially from her lands made him jump up and run inside. Belle smiled, maybe if she could get Baelfire excited for Midwinter fest, she could have a bit of her old home in her new home in the castle.

 ---------------------------------

When Belle returned from the tower to check up on Rumpelstiltskin and give him his tea, she went back to the library where Baelfire was already waiting for her. “Come on Belle, tell me about Sandy Claws!”

“His name is Santa Claus”, Belle smiled. “He wears red robes and a hat, both lined with fur. He lives in a faraway land, and only visits us the night before Yule.. He leaves presents under the Yule tree. But he only visits children who have been good the previous year to leave them gifts.”

“How does he know if you have been good? And what kind of gifts does he bring?” Baelfire interrupted.

“Well, he has a magic book, and the names of the children who have been good show up in the book.” Belle explained.

“A magic book?” Baelfire looked apprehensive. “Papa says all magic comes at a price. What is the price of getting gifts from Santa Claus?”

Belle took a few moments to reply. “Children write him a nice letter and wish lists with the gifts they would like to receive. They leave their letter near the fireplace with some milk and mince pies. So the price will be the milk and mince pies, and you have to have been a good person during the whole year.”

Baelfire seemed to accept her answer. “Could I also write a letter? Or does Santa Claus only visits the children in Avonlea?”

“If you write him a nice letter and draw one of your lovely drawings, I am absolutely sure he will also visit you. I will make mince pies, and you can leave them tonight,” Belle suggested.

Baelfire jumped up. 

“I am going to make a drawing right now! And I already know what I want to ask for!” He ran towards the stairs, almost knocking his father over.

“Ouch! Watch out Bae! Some people are tired from working, you know. Not that our maid would know that… Are you done playing Belle? I am hungry and I don’t smell anything cooking. I heard something about pies?”

Belle stood up and headed towards the kitchen. “Yes Rumple, I will start making the meat pies for dinner.” If she made extra pastry she could use it for the mince pies. And hopefully her little plan would work and she would find out what gifts Baelfire wanted tonight so she could surprise him during Yule. She felt Baelfire needed to feel like a carefree child, if only for this one holiday.

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

After dinner Rumpelstiltskin went back to his tower to work some more. Belle and Baelfire prepared the mince pies and milk for Santa Claus, and placed them on a table in front of the hearth.

“Did you get your letter and wish list? What did you ask Santa?” Belle asked Baelfire.

“I’ve got the letter, and I also drew a picture for Santa! But what I’m wishing for is a surprise. I’m sure you’d like it too, though,” Baelfire replied.

“Well, let’s get you off to bed then. We must give Santa some time to find it. He only comes when you’re sleeping.” 

Belle and Baelfire climbed the stairs to their bedrooms.

Rumpelstiltskin was just coming down from his tower when he passed them. “Belle, I was just looking for you! Could you please clean my workroom before I continue my work? It’s a mess.”

Belle sighed “Do I have  to do it now? I was just going to bed!”

“You can do it now, or you can do it in a few years when I turn you back from your frog-form. What do you prefer?” he teased.

Belle just shot him a look, and turned around to fetch her cleaning supplies. Baelfire’s wish list would have to wait. She had plenty of time to take a look at it before he woke up.

Rumpelstiltskin went to the main hall. He smelled something sweet. He followed his nose towards the fireplace. Milk and mince pies? What an odd combination. He then noticed the letter addressed to Satan. Did his maid write Satan to save herself from the Dark One? That strange girl and her love for dangerous beasts��� But then he noticed Baelfire’s handwriting. Not being able to control himself, he opened the envelope addressed to Satan and started reading.

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

“Well, I’m not really sure why you would come to me for a dog, but I’m flattered that your son drew me a picture. I never get anything nice….” The red, horned man spoke. “My  dog just had puppies a few weeks ago, you can have one?” 

The man grinned. “And we don’t have to make a deal.”

“No deal, as in free? Why? What’s wrong with it?” Rumpelstiltskin asked suspiciously. He didn’t like the idea of getting things for free. Nothing in life was free.

Satan just waved his hand. “Oh nothing is wrong with it… but I don’t need all these dogs. Just take one. Your son can send me a ‘thank you’ note with another drawing. How is that for a deal?”

Rumpelstiltskin thought about this. Baelfire really wanted this dog from Satan. He wanted it badly enough to try and send the letter through the fire in the fireplace, hoping it would get to Satan through the fires of hell. This puppy would make him happy, even though Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t understand why.

“Ok fine, I’ll take the dog, and I’ll let my son draw another picture for you. Do you also want the milk and mince pies?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“Hmmm no, the picture is fine” Satan looked confused. “Here’s the little green beast!”

“Green?!”  Rumpelstiltskin looked in shock at the little pup in his arms.

 ----------------------------

Back in the castle, Belle stared at the fireplace. The letter and drawing was gone, but the mince pies and milk were still there. Did Baelfire fall asleep before he could place them? Or could Santa Claus be real? No, that couldn’t be. Or could it? She stepped slowly towards the fireplace and carefully stretched her neck to see if she could find any evidence of a fat old man dressed in red coming through the chimney.

“You’re up early!” Belle yelped and jumped backwards from the fireplace .When she swirled around she saw Rumpelstiltskin standing behind her holding a blanket. “I don’t think cleaning the chimney would be useful during the winter months” he teased.

“Did you bring another baby?” Belle eyed the wriggling blanket Rumpelstiltskin was holding.

Before he could reply, they were interrupted by a sleepy Baelfire. 

“What’s wrong Belle? I heard you. Did you see Sa-“ he stopped in the middle of his sentence. “What are you holding there papa?”

Rumpelstiltskin swelled with pride “I have something for you Baelfire. Something I know you wanted more than anything!”

He walked towards his son and handed him the blanket. Baelfire slowly unwrapped it and gasped when a tongue suddenly made contact with his cheek. 

“A puppy!” he exclaimed. He now unwrapped the puppy with more urgency and held the little pup up. “Oh papa thank you! This is the best gift ever!”

Belle looked at the pup and back to Rumple. The puppy looked… odd. He had a green fur coat. She had never heard of a green dog. The puppy almost looked like… Rumple in dog-form. She didn’t understand where he got the dog from. But he must have been the one who found Baelfire’s wish list.

“Rumple, what kind of breed is this?” Belle asked.

“Don’t you worry about that dearie. This is none of your business after all-“ right at that moment the puppy started barking because Baelfire threw a stick into the corridor, trying to play fetch with his new pet. The barking wasn’t like a normal puppy bark. Belle suddenly felt like she had to run far away. A deep, primal fear instilling in her. She looked at Rumpelstiltskin and he looked as horrified as she did. His eyes wide open with fear.

“Rumple? You felt it too, right? What is that dog?” Belle was still trembling with fear.

“Like I said, nothing to worry about! Can you watch Bae for a moment? And give that dog something to eat!” Rumpelstiltskin replied before disappearing.

Back in his tower, Rumpelstiltskin took a few deep breaths. He knew something was up with that dog! Satan wouldn’t have given him a normal dog for free. He took some of his books on mythical animals from his shelves and frantically searched what kind of animal this was. He wasn’t quite sure if Baelfire was safe, but he didn’t seem to be affected by the dog’s barking.

After an hour or so, he finally found what he was looking for! A greenish dog whose bark instilled fear in the people who were unfortunate enough to hear it. This wasn’t a normal dog, it was a cú sidhe! Of course Satan needed a dog like this… He continued reading:

The cú sidhe is a harbinger of death and takes the soul of a person to the afterlife. The cú sidhe is capable of hunting silently, but he can let out three terrifying barks. Those who hear the barking of the cú sidhe must reach safety by the third bark or be overcome with terror to the point of death.

They were lucky this one was just a puppy! He could scare them all to death by the time it was full-grown! Him being the Dark One would have been dragged to hell by his own pet. The dog couldn’t stay. He had to bring this bad news to his son and disappoint him. Again. Why did he even ask for a dog? Who put this idea in his head? He knew who did this, that girl with her stories!

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

 Rumpelstiltskin slammed the book on the kitchen table. 

“This is all your fault! You and your silly stories! And look where it got us! A demon dog who terrifies people to death?!” Rumpelstiltskin exploded. “You are endangering Bae. We are lucky it’s still a puppy, but what if that thing grows older and is capable of scaring Bae to death with his bark?” 

Belle looked at him with tears in her eyes. He thought she was going to cry, and he felt conflicted about that. He didn’t want to see her upset, let alone being the reason she was upset, but another part of him was angry with her for putting Baelfire in danger. His son was the most important person in his life. But Belle was… not un-important.

Belle took a shaky breath and Rumpelstiltskin prepared himself for her tears. 

But then she spoke as calmly as she could, “Rumple, I didn’t want to put Bae in danger. I merely told him the story about Santa, and how the children in Avonlea would write him and asked him to grant them their wish. It was a story! I was planning on sneaking back down to get the wish list so I could get him the perfect gift for Christmas. You are the one who got him the demon dog, not me! So don’t you dare blame me for this!”

Rumpelstiltskin was fuming at this point, although he wasn’t sure if he was mad at Belle or mad at himself. “You are the one who planted the idea of Satan giving out gifts in his head so yes this is still you fault! Either way, the dog has to go!”

“What? No papa I love him!” Baelfire had just walked into the kitchen, with an excited demon puppy right behind him. “You can’t throw him out!”

“Bae, please… he is dangerous. It’s not a normal dog. He is a demon dog, he is a monster and he could kill you…” Rumpelstiltskin pleaded with Baelfire.

“What do you mean papa? He isn’t a monster. Santa wouldn’t give children demon dog’s.. right Belle? Tell papa about Santa!” Baelfire exclaimed.

Belle sighed “Baelfire, Santa wouldn’t give you a demon dog. But Santa Claus didn’t give you this dog. Your father found your letter and he thought it said ‘Satan’ instead of ‘Santa’. So he went to Satan with the letter, and Satan…”

“Would give me a demon dog..” Baelfire finished her sentence for her. He went quiet and looked at his puppy. The pup didn’t realize there was something wrong and was licking Baelfire’s hand.

“Bae...” Rumpelstiltskin started in a desperate attempt.

“No papa. I won’t give up my dog. He is not a monster. I still love him. He doesn’t want to kill me.” 

Balefire looked at his father with watery eyes. “I think he is just misunderstood. Yes, he doesn’t look like a normal dog, and maybe he does have magic that can be used for evil. But I love him!”

Belle smiled. The similarity between the puppy and Rumple didn’t escape her.

“I agree with Bae. The puppy is just misunderstood. There is good in him, even though he is different from other pups. We can show him that he doesn’t have to use his magic for evil. Maybe he can use his magic for good? He can become our guard dog. Scaring away unwanted visitors like the Evil Queen?” Belle suggested. “Besides, I kind of like the green coat. “

Rumpelstiltskin sighed. He realised he was going to lose this battle. “Ok fine. The little beast can stay. But I am going to put a protection spell on us so we will be unaffected by his bark.”

“Oh thank you papa!” Baelfire ran up to his father and gave him a hug.  He then turned to Belle and gave her a hug as well. “And thank you for convincing papa to let me keep him”.

Rumpelstiltskin muttered “She didn’t convince me. I am master here, I won’t let a maid tell me what to do…. Especially when it comes to beasts like that.” But Baelfire was already preoccupied with scratching the dog behind his ear.

Belle laughed and brushed by him on her way out of the kitchen. “I think the little beast is all bark and no bite. Just like someone else with a beautiful green skin.” 

She left a stunned Rumpelstiltskin behind.

[lyrium-lavellan]

OC Interview

Thanks to @badpriestessofbuttsburgh for tagging me! Anyone who wants to do this is welcome to it! I’ll tag @bakedsweetroll @zeesqueere @lavelland 🌺

1. What’s your name?

Velahris Lavellan, though most people just call me Vel.

2. Do you know why you are named that?

My name had a special meaning to my parents. Something like “Endless song”, though that’s a very rough translation.

3. Are you single or taken?

[soft, knowing chuckle] Isn’t it obvious? Maybe Varric doesn’t tell everyone... Taken. If you want more details, ask the dwarf.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

I guess suppressing my magic for years counts. Also, I have a stronger connection to the Fade than most. I suppose I always have, though with the Anchor it’s far more intense.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

Huh? What’s that?

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue. Varric always says they’re “blue as a lyrium vein”. [longing sigh] So romantic.

7. How about your hair color?

Well, it’s... Red. Auburn, I guess? I’ve never really thought much about the exact shade.

8. Have any family members?

My parents and two brothers, one older and one younger. Silvhen and Ethelan. My parents and older brother are Grey Wardens, and my little brother was a Circle mage.

9. Oh? How about any pets?

I have two cats! Paragon and Warden. Cole found a cat at Skyhold who had a litter, and we cared for the kittens together. I couldn’t bear to part with those two, so I kept them. They’re spoiled rotten, the sweet things.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like. 

Cassandra’s lectures. She means well, but well... It’s a bit much sometimes. I’m an adult - I can make my own decisions well enough without her interference.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

I cook! Sometimes I’ll embroider, or any number of things really. What I like best though is a good ride through the forest on horseback. Or, halla-back. Either way, it’s so refreshing!

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

I... Suppose I have. Hasn’t everyone?

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

Yes.

14. What kind of animal are you?

I suppose if I had to choose, a Halla. They’re so graceful!

15. Name your worst habits?

I... tend to cry. I’m quite emotional, unfortunately [giggles]. I also have a bit of a sweet tooth...

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

I look up to so many people. My soldiers, my advisors, my Inner Circle... I couldn’t list all of them. But... I suppose I’ll have to try, won’t I?

Solas’ mind is fascinating. His knowledge and wisdom has never failed me, and I always seek his counsel on decisions I have to make. He’s like a father to me.

Blackwall... I admire him so much. His determination, his quest for justice. He reminds me of ‘Vhen, actually. It’s... comforting.

Then there’s Josephine. She’s always polite and sweet, but never too much. She’s still genuine. I appreciate it more than words could say.

And Varric, he’s... So full of kindness. He brings light and laughter into my life, and I don’t know what I’d do without him. I... I love him very much.

[Varric, from across the room] “I heard that, Clover!”

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

Bisexual. Though, I haven’t had many relationships with men.

18. Do you go to school?

No. Whatever I know, I taught it to myself. Magic, reading and writing, ancient elvhen. Although my Keeper did teach me a few things.

19. Ever want to marry and have any kids one day?

I’d like that very much. I’ve always wanted a family, but, well... I’m not sure if it’s even possible for an elf and a dwarf to...

[Varric, chuckling] “Oh, it’s possible, sweetheart. Just unlikely.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

I definitely have a few admirers at the Orlesian court. They send me jewels and gowns from time to time, along with fan letters. It’s flattering, if I’m honest. For Orlesian nobles to even tolerate an elf in a position of power, let alone like me...

21. What are you most afraid of?

Failure. I’m afraid I’ll misstep and everything will come crashing down around me. I can’t let my people down. But... I won’t.

22. What do you usually wear?

I’m partial to loose fitting blouses and leather trousers, but I’ll wear pretty much anything as long as it’s not a hat. They never sit right on my ears... For more formal occasions I’ll opt for robes or a gown, usually in blue or red silk. Dorian’s assured me that red is my color, but I think Varric and Hawke put him up to it just so I’d match with them.

[Hawke, from the bar] “Now, that’s no fair! You look ravishing in red, your inquisitorialness!”

23. What one food tempts you?

Maker, those little frilly cakes they had at Halamshiral I must have had fifty seven before Josephine pulled me away from the dessert table. I don’t regret it, but since then I’ve had a few extra pounds packed on my backside that I can’t seem to shed.

[Varric, winking from across the table] “Hey, I’m not complaining.”

24. Am I annoying you?

Of course not!

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Good, I’ve only just got started!

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

Well, I’m Dalish, so I don’t really know where that fits in your human hierarchy. Though I suppose now, since I’m Inquisitor, that’s bumped me up in standing a little.

27. How many friends do you have?

I have quite a few people I’m lucky to call my friends.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

All types of pie are delicious and wonderful!

29. Favourite drink?

Fresh, warm halla milk. It’s so creamy... [stomach growl] Fen’harel’s teeth, this is making me hungry...

30. What’s your favourite place?

Wherever my dear dwarf is.

[Varric, sarcastically] “Oh, how romantic. I’ll have to make my way into a sewer next!”

Shush! But I suppose it’s my family tree. It’s just outside of Starkhaven. I remember going there with my Keeper when I was young, when Ethelan carved his name into the bark. It holds so many stories... I hope to take my children there someday.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

[Varric] “Of course she is! I’m very interesting.”

32. That was a stupid question…

Suppose so. Now, let’s move on!

33. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

Either one! Though, lakes remind me more of my childhood. Dalish tend to frolic, and lakes are good for that.

34. What’s your type?

I don’t think I really have a type. I just... love who I love. But I seem to have a thing for kind people.

35. Any fetishes?

[spit take] What? I... erm...

[Varric, leaning over] “That’s for me to know, and you to never find out.”

36. Camping indoors or outdoors?

Outdoors! The smell of the forest, the wind in the trees, sleeping under the stars... [sigh] There’s nothing like it!

[iheartgrayson]

making friends | grayson dolan

💘FLUFFY💘

Ever since the twins made the video collab with the Ace Family, meeting and watching Elle, Grayson wanted to interact her to your baby girl, Remington. He believed that the two girls would make the perfect friends since they were almost together in the age, they had the same exact personality and because you guys didn't have any friends that had kids Grayson wanted Remi to make one so she could go on playdates.

Sharing the same thoughts with your boyfriend and because you adored Well, being a fantastic Ace Family member, you agreed to schedule a playdate between the two girls. Catherine and Austin was going to drop Elle in any minute now; you had also begged to leave Alaïa too but they were going to the doctors for her monthly check up.

You were baking cookies while Grayson was watching Remington and Ethan was fixing the camera so he could be able to record something from the day with the two girls. Two minutes later the doorbell rang and you saw from the kitchen as Grayson scoot up Remi and walked to the door.

“Hey guys!!” Grayson's deep and extremely happy voice boomed through the whole house.

“Oh my Goodness. Look at this beautiful girl.” Catherine said as she saw Remington in person for the first time and waved her hand. The four of them walked inside the house and went to the living room and you also joined them. “Hi, Remington. I'm Catherine.”

You watched as Remington nodded her head as he finger was on her mouth and a smile smile on her heart shaped lips before she buried her head on Grayson's neck. They all laughed before Grayson turned her body to face Elle. “Look baby, look. Elle came to play with you.”

At the mention of her name, Elle's eyes lighten up and pointed to herself. “Elle, Elle.” She repeated over and over again.

Remington rolled off Grayson's lap but never leaving his hand and stood in front of the elder girl. “Rem.” She said in a tiny whisper and waved to the other girl. Remington was not able to say other words than momma, dada, yes, no, E and Rem, being only 1,5 years old, so the communication would be limited.

“Oh my God, she is gorgeous.” Austin commented as he was rocking Alaïa who was a bit fussy.

“Elle and Alaïa are beautiful too. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you.” You said and offered your hand at the two others who gladly shook it.

“Thank you.” Austin said and smiled. “I really want one picture all together, can you?”

“Of course.” You all said and after making the three girls settle down all of you took couple pictures for your fans.

“So, we will be back in an hour or so. We don't want to tire you more.” Catherine said.

“Well, it's our pleasure to have Elle here. She and Remi would be best friends in no time. I am sure for that.” You said and smiled as the couple nodded their heads and walked back to the car leaving Elle to play with Remi.

Grayson was going to be with them until they would both be okay with each other. “Girls, do you want to play?” He asked them while Ethan started filming.

“Dada.” Remi shouted and pulled Grayson's sleeve so they could go to her room where her toys were. Santa brought her a lot new ines and she wanted to share them with Elle. Grayson got up from the couch and suddenly Remi stopped and turned to Elle, who was a bit shy and unsure at first, as she smiled and grabbed her hand gently before the three of them walked to the room.

You followed behind, wanting to see your daughter interact with other kids, and saw Remi offering her the one doll of the two Santa brought her and a bottle with milk as she took the other and they sat on the small purple couch the twins thought would be a fantastic idea to have.

Remington looked at Elle with her wide hazel eyes, taking everything detail her little brain was able to understand before she turned her attention on the baby. “Are you good girls?” Grayson asked them.

“Yeah.” They both said and Elle eyed Ethan with the camera and giggled and waved her little hand saying a small audible ‘ace family’ as she turned her head at Remi and patted her shoulder so she could get her attention and pointed at the camera.

Remington giggled too and then got up walking to the mini trampoline on the corner of the room, the doll thrown on the ground, and yelled at Elle. “Hey, E.” She made grabby hands and Elle followed her and they with the help and support of Grayson got up and started jumping, the whole room filled with their cute giggles and laughs.

“Oh my God, Remington is so happy.” You pointed out more to yourself but Ethan who was standing next to you heard you anyway.

“Yep! Her whole face lightened up!”

“I know.” You nodded your head. “I was a bit nervous truth to be told because she was never around other kids and I believed she would be extra shy and she would be hiding behind Grayson but look at her, she made her first friend today.”

“Thank God she didn't take from her dad and uncle who didn't have any friends.” Ethan laughed as he turned off the camera and check the material he had selected in the little time he was recording.

“Shut up!” you hit playfully his shoulder before turning your attention back to the trio on the corner. The two girls watched with wide eyes as Grayson was telling something at them and suddenly the two girls started running with their little legs outside the room, your daughter not even seeing you or her uncle, and heard Grayson chuckling. “What did you say to them?”

“I said that we should play with slime.” Grayson explained and there was a loud whine from you. You hated slime for the only reason you were never able to remove it from nowhere and now you were sure that the girls would throw it somewhere.

“You clean it up.” You pointed a finger in his chest before Grayson with a side smile walked outside the room and grabbed the slime from his hidden place and walked to the table where the girls were trying to sit on the chairs.

You went and placed each one on the chairs before Grayson. gave them the purple slime. Elle's whole face shining like crazy at the look of it. She loved slime too much for her own good. “Look girls. it says that we can blow on it.” Grayson talked to them and grabbed something that looked like it was probably a straw and started blowing on the purple slime making giant bubbles while the two girls burst into a fit of giggles. “It's funny right?”

The two girls looked at each other and started laughing again, their laugh seemed like it was a fake one and it was extremely adorable, and went to grab the slime and Grayson gave it to them.

“Oh, the cookies are ready.” You announced as the clock on the kitchen went off and went to take the cookies off the oven. They looked extra yummy and delicious and they were your favorite ones, chocolate cookies; the recipe was yours and made everyone lick their fingers.

“Coochies?” Elle said surprised. “Coochies? Are ryeddy?”

“Yes, beautiful. They are ready.” You said and placed the plate full with cookies on the table making everyone lick their lips from just the smell. “But first, let's clean our hands okay?”

One by one you helped the girls clean their hands before you returned to the table where Grayson and Ethan had already stole by one cookie. You caught them and when they saw you they stopped chewing but you could clearly see their mouth full. “That's why Santa doesn't bring you presents, right girls? They are bad boys.”

“Bad, bad.” Ellen yelled.

“Ba.” Remi tried to say as well and went to her dad to pick her up while Ethan helped Elle. Four arms reached immediately the plate with cookies and grabbed two for each one, making you laugh at how much hungry the two toddlers appeared. Well, even if they had eaten like ten minutes ago a full plate of whatever there would still be an empty space for cookies.

“Amazing.” Ellen talked with Remi, saying a lot of gibberish words under their breath. It seemed like they made their own baby code to communicate and it made you smile non stop.

“I believe we should make a video with Remi and Elle.” Ethan exclaimed suddenly; it was a good idea but how could they possibly do with two hyperactive toddlers that seemed to have a problem to understand what they wanted the elders to do?

“Good idea, but what about?” You were the only to answer him even though you didn't make the videos rather than stand behind the camera and watch the twins do it; sometimes you could be a guest star in one of their challenges or squad videos or even when it something they wanted to do with Remington.

“How about like going to a carnival with them?” Grayson pointed out; his eyes never leaving the two girls that were sitting in the middle of the table doing their own things.

“Well, yeah, why not?” Ethan shrugged his shoulders and then your phone vibrated on your pocket. Taking it out you saw that it was your mother that was calling so you walked to the garden to talk privately.

“I have an idea girls.” Ethan said loudly to get their attention but they didn't bother. With a frustrating sign he spoke again. “Who wants ice cream?”

“Oh no! Ethan no!” Grayson's eyes went wide at the mention of ice cream, super aware that the weather was a bit harsh for ice cream especially for the two tiny girls in front of him, but it was too late because his brother brought the two black ice creams he had brought couple days ago for himself and gave each one to Remi and Elle who at the sight of the ice creams threw the cookies away.

Grayson rolled his eyes as he face palmed himself and groaned under his breath. He prayed that they would be both okay and not get sick and of course he prayed that you would not be mad at him; after all it was not his fault. “Remi seems to like Elle. I knew she will be friends with her in no time. I know my daughter very well.” He seemed proud while talking.

Ethan watched his younger brother with a annoyed look before rolling his eyes. “Jesus, they know exactly who the fans used to call daddy and dad material.” He joked.

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“Dada. Dada.” Remington got Grayson's attention, showing the stick that remained from the ice cream so he could take it from her and throw it away. Thankfully, the ice creams were small compared to the ones that Ethan usually eats.

Grayson grabbed the stick Remi was giving him and then Elle also gave it to him since she also finished. He was about to throw them away and get a clean rag to clean the girls mouths but your sudden appearance made him stop in his actions.

You were smiling but as soon as your eyes landed on the girls it dropped. “What happened to them?” You asked Grayson who avoided eye contact and went to the kitchen. Walking towards them you repeated the question. “Remi, Elle what happened to your faces?”

“Don't know.” Elle said.

“You don't know?” You laughed, they were adorable even with the black liquid all over their mouth. Remi even got on her shirt.

“E, ice cream.” Elle said again.

“Ice cream? You ate ice cream?”

“Yeah, E.”

“E?” You asked confused until you understood. “Ethan gave them to you?”

“E. E. E.” Remington started clapping her small hands at the mention of her uncle's name.

“Well, you look too damn cute to get mad. Let me get a picture.” You took out your phone and went straight to the camera. “Girls, smile.” Within seconds both of them started posing for the camera, putting up a wide smile on their lips and then hugging each other making your heart burst with small hearts. “Oh my God!”

“Aw,” Grayson's voice started you. “Aw, guys you are so freaking cute. You're killing me.”

“Well, we have a lot of good things to blackmail Remington when she starts her rebellious phase.

“Let me tell you that my daughter will never be a rebel. She is too freaking good for her own good.” Grayson said and hugged you from behind just as you watched the girls grabbing the cookies again and started eating. “So, I'm gonna throw up just watching them have another one. How can they still manage to eat so much?”

“A mystery.” Leaning on Grayson's hard chest you hummed slightly as he rocked your bodies.

“Babe, I want another one.”

“What?” Your eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I want another baby.”

Chuckling you patted gently his shoulder. “Well, mate suit yourself with Remington because this factory is closed for business till she is at least ten years old. Or at least when we like plan on having another.” You pointed towards your vagina making Grayson roll his eyes before nodding with a sigh.

Remington was never planned but she was the best gift life could give you and you would never trade her for anything in the entire whole world.

Ethan's figure appeared from the hall, barely missing him. “Hey, Mister. If I catch you in my hands you're a dead man.” You warned him and after grabbing what he wanted he run fast to his room as he yelled and ‘i love you too’ making you and Grayson laugh.

One hour later as promised, Catherine and Austin came to pick up Elle who was a bit furious to leave her new friend so fast but you all promised them that soon they would play again. But before they left, you had the chance to take in your arms Alaïa that you so bad wanted to hold.

Even though you send to Grayson that you didn't plan to have another baby any time soon you had to admit that seeing a infant always made your heart beat increase and let's not talk about that oh so sweet smell all babies seemed to have which made you crazy about. You took couple photos before giving her to Grayson who also took a pics using of course and Snapchat filters which made them both even cuter.

Eventually they left and you put Remington on bed, sharing your hugs and kisses and of course one story that Grayson came up with but satisfied his daughter, and went to bed; laying on Grayson's chest. “I lied.”

“Huh?” Grayson asked at your sudden outburst.

“I lied about not wanting a baby.” you started. “I mean I don't want one any time soon but after a year or two let's have another one okay?”

Grayson laughed and kissed your temple. “Of course angel. How can I say no to that when we make such beautiful and adorable babies, huh?”

You smiled and got closer to his embrace and Grayson wrapped tightly his arms around you before you two started drifting into sleep when the door opened suddenly. You looked up to see Ethan standing by the door frame with his arms folded in front of his hard chest.

“If you plan to have another baby please tell me to evacuate the house.”

[logancreatesworlds]

Just Good Business - J’onn J’onzz x black!lawyer!reader

Author’s Note:  Hey everybody!  So I’ve been wanting to do this one for a while now.  Hope it’s good.  Enjoy!  Oh, @lovelynervouschaos  I’m still working on your request.  I’ll get it done soon!

Warnings:  Racism, strong language, bit of sexism, some sensuality - the whole package.

Disclaimer:  None of the images used belong to me.

“GET OUT OF THIS COUNTRY!”

“GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM, NIGGER!”

“YOU ARE ANTI-WHITE!”

That was what your assailant yelled as Supergirl helped push him into a police car.

It wasn’t a surprise to you.  Guys like him always preferred to attack women and children.

Coward, you thought with an eye roll.

“Are you alright?”  Supergirl asked with a concerned look on her face.

You nodded, “Oh yeah.  I’m good.”

Her brow furrowed, her blue eyes now turning confused.

“Really?  You’re not scared at all?”

You smiled and shook your head, “He’s not the first racist I’ve encountered, Supergirl.  I’m fairly certain he won’t be the last.”

“Well I’m sure guys like him can be cantankerous but...why you?”

You smiled, “I’m a lawyer.  You heard about the Smith case?”

“The one in the news about the one that blew up Brown Studios?”

You nodded, “Guess who’s the head prosecutor?”

Supergirl’s eyes widened a bit, “Wow.  You must be the real deal.”

“I’d like to think so,” you said with a smirk before pulling a card out of your blazer pocket and handing it to her, “But listen, I appreciate anybody who is concerned for my safety.  If you find yourself in any legal trouble, give me a call.  I’ll help you out pro bono.”

She nodded, “Thanks.  Have a good day, and be safe.”

You waved as she shot off into the sky and flew away.

Now, you thought, clutching your brief case as you walked down the street, As for lunch, Barca di Venezia or Fruits de mer de l'Atlantique?

“And you say she’s a lawyer?”  Alex asked.

“Yeah, she’s the head prosecutor for the Brown Studios case,” Supergirl answered as she and Alex walked into the D.E.O. with coffee and doughnuts.

“Who are you two talking about?”  J’onn asked.

“This hot new prosecutor that Supergirl can’t shut up about,” Alex replied as she handed him a black coffee.

“She’s not hot,” Supergirl corrected, “She’s just really cool.  Her name is (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Wait,” J’onn said, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?  The lawyer from the Brown Studios case?”

“How does everybody know about this case but me?”  Alex huffed.

“The question is how you don’t know about the case,” J’onn responded, biting his French cruller, “Two girls and a dance instructor - all African-American, died in a random bombing a few weeks ago.  You and Supergirl were...preoccupied at the time.”

“Whoa?  Did they catch who did it?”

J’onn nodded, “Two bombers.  One was a bomb expert, ex military.  The other?  A police officer - right here from National City.  The first was prosecuted with little to no problem.  But the police officer has yet to be officially convicted.”

“So she must be convicting the cop,” Alex figured out.

“That’s very courageous,” Supergirl commented, “But also very dangerous - for her.  We should assign her a protection detail.”

“We can’t,” J’onn said, “The D.E.O must be focusing on external threats at all times.  Besides, you have duties as well.”

“Okay but...she needs protection.  You didn’t see the guy who had attacked her.  And people like him will only grow bolder and bolder unless we protect people like her.”

“Well what do you propose we do?  You are busy protecting National City as a whole, and Alex works here.”

Supergirl was silent for a moment and then a light bulb flashed on in her head.

J’onn immediately refused at the look she gave him.

“No,” he said, “No, no, no, no-”

“J’onn come on.  You can hide in plain sight and plus you’re really tough.  No one’s gonna mess with you, and certainly not her if you’re her bodyguard.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

“Come on J’onn,” she pleaded, “Pleeeeaaaaassse?”

J’onn sighed at the look Supergirl was giving him, and Alex smirked as she saw him ready to give in.

3...2...1...

“Fine,” J’onn said wryly, “But if she rejects my help-”

“Great,” Supergirl chirped before wrapping her arms around him and giving him a hug, “Thanks!”

When she was gone, Alex turned to J’onn.

“You know you’re a huge pushover right?”

“Alex, hush.”

“Aaaaand here is your steak,” your waitress said.

“Thanks Stacey,” you replied as she left you alone.

You peacefully dug into your meal, cutting into its thick contents and taking a bite.

“Delicious, isn’t it?”

You looked over to see a tall black man sitting at a table a few feet away from you, sipping a glass of red wine.

Pensively, you replied, “Yes, yes it is.  Why?”

He shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

You scoffed and smirked, “No you aren’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said that you aren’t here to make conversation.”

“And how could you possibly know something like that?”

“That wine you’re drinking is Roberé.  S’the cheapest one on the menu at this place.  Your suit looks cheap as well so it’s obviously not Armani.  Only rich assholes with bugs up their asses or bitches on the side come to this place.  Wanna come over here and tell me who you really are?”

The man sighed, getting up and coming toward you.

“You certainly are perceptive,” he commented, taking a seat across from you.

“And you certainly are predictable,” you replied, not missing a beat and taking another bite of steak, “So...who are you?”

The man stilled, and then - almost like magic, started to change.

His navy blue suit became a blue bodysuit with a red ‘X’ on the front and his brown skin became emerald green as his head elongated into a soft cone shape.

“No way,” you gasped.

“I assume you’ve heard of me,” the Martian Manhunter replied, grabbing a bread stick and taking a bite.

“Yeah but...why are you here?”

Martian Manhunter smirked, “Let’s just say I’m here as a favor to a friend.”

“So Supergirl sent you.”

His smirk into a smile, “Yes.”

“What for?  You here to spy on me for some secret superhero crap?”

“If you consider ‘secret superhero crap’ to be acting as your bodyguard until the Brown Studios case is over, then yes.”

You smirked, “So Supergirl sent you here to protect me?”

“To be completely honest - yes.  Though I must admit, you do not seem like the kind of woman who needs protecting.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Not exactly.”

A silent moment passed and you grew more and more confused at why the Martian was staring so hard.

“...What?”

“Forgive me for staring it’s just...” Martian Manhunter paused, “You did not seem that surprised that I’m...”

“Martian?”

He nodded.

“Well let me just give you the introduction that Supergirl didn’t give you,” you said as you leaned in, “I am the head prosecutor for the most successful legal firm in National City.  I graduated from Harvard - top of my class, and I have an 89% conviction rate.  I do not get scared, sir.  It’s not in my DNA.”

“So...you never have any moments of vulnerability, tension or even...” he leaned forward, “Passion?”

“The law is my passion.”

“I believe that.  However I have trouble believing that there is nothing more to this tough, hard-nosed prosecuting attorney that I see before me other than long sleepless nights and casework.  There is more to you than you let on.  That much I know.  Am I right?  You can tell me if I am wrong.  There is no one here but us.”

You said nothing.

“It’s almost one o’clock,” he said, noting the large crystal clock on the wall, “You want a box or are we going to wait here all night?”

“I really don’t need protection,” you argued as you both walked walked down 7th street to your office.

The Martian was with you, back in his human form.

“Well too bad.  You have it.”

“Why do you even care?”

“If my friend wants you protected, it is most likely for good reason.  I thought I made that clear.” 

“You are awfully persistent for someone from...out of town.”

Your new bodyguard smirked and you felt annoyed that you began to find it attractive, “It is a strength of mine.”

“This is my place,” you said, unlocking your door, “Sorry it’s not the Ritz but I’d like to think it’s pretty cozy.”

“No apologies necessary,” The Martian Manhunter said, shifting back into his true form, “It is quite nice actually.”

“Yeah well I try,” you replied sardonically as you locked the door and plopped your purse on the kitchen counter and kicked off your heels, “You hungry?  I’ve got food.”

“What do you have, pizza?”

You rolled your eyes, “Please, I have leftover Chicken Parm’.”

“Do you have Oreos?”

“Right here,” you replied, grabbing the package of cookies and setting it down in front of the Martian as he sat at the counter in front of you, “Want some milk?”

“Please.”

You took out your Benny’s Skim Milk carton out of the top fridge and poured some of its contents in a large glass.

“Thank you,” the Martian said, taking it from you.

“No problem.”

As you put your Chicken Parmesan in the microwave for a couple of minutes and then took it out, the two of you got settled.

The Martian kept watch, staring at the big, wide view of the evening National City skyline while you looked over your casework.

Even though things were quiet between the two of you, you could not resist briefly staring at him.

It may have been odd, but he was kind of handsome to you.  Sure he was green, but you didn’t mind that, and his muscular figure was tall, lithe and strapping.

Damn, even his legs were nice.

“You are staring again.”

You swiftly looked back up to see the Martian smirking at you over his shoulder.

You shook your head, “Sorry.”

Back to casework.

“Do not apologize.  I actually find it quite flattering.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“You really do not like me do you?”  He asked, coming over and sitting across from me.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Oh please,” you huffed, glaring at him, “Don’t act innocent with me.  You didn’t seem too gung-ho about being my new security detail.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re an extraterrestrial snob?”

“No,” the Martian replied, “Because you are hiding things from me.”

“And what makes you think you are entitled to know all my secrets?”

“If someone kidnaps you and takes you somewhere, I need to know if that place is significant to you before planning a rescue.  That’s my job, and I am very good at it.  Now, how can I do my job if I don’t even know the details of the person I am supposed to be protecting?”

He had you there.

“Okay,” you sighed, setting your casework and pen aside, “What do you wanna know?”

“When did you become a lawyer?”

“A few years ago.  I was a young upstart after I graduated and I got job offer at Johnson & Doc.”

“How many have you convicted?”

“At least a hundred.  Any other questions?”

You always were a worker bee.

“Why did you become a lawyer, or a prosecutor for that matter?  With your intelligence you could have had any job you wanted, so...why this one?”

You weren’t as quick to answer that one.

“Miss (Y/L/N), I will not ask you again.”

You said nothing.

The Martian huffed getting up from his seat, “Fine.  Find your own protection.”

Before he could open the door, you answered.

“I do it for my brother.”

The Martian froze.

“Back when I was a kid...I was attacked on the way home from school.  The guy he-...he tried to rape me.  But before he could cut my jeans, my brother pulled him off me.  He almost killed him.  The guy called the police, said my brother attacked him and tried to rob him.  He was almost arrested but...”

“But?”  The Martian asked, walking up to you.

“But I...I showed them the bruises,” you said, breaking down and starting to cry.

“Long story short,” you said, wiping your tears, “My brother died a couple years ago in a car accident.  And I swore to myself I would be strong - like him.”

“There are people out there who don’t have a brother to protect them, who don’t have anyone to protect them,” you continued, looking into the Martian’s eyes, “I’ll be damned if let them suffer.  That is my calling - helping people who can’t help themselves.  It’s just good business.”

The Martian digested the information, “Well in that case...it will be an honor to protect you, Miss (Y/N).”

You half-smiled when he handed you a tissue.

Over the next few days, you and the Martian Manhunter learned a lot more about each other.

His real name turned out to be J’onn J’onzz, and while he learned more about what you liked and disliked, you learned about his life.

It was a wonder how the Martian could live on after he lost his whole planet.

“There isn’t much justice in this world.  Perhaps that is why it is so satisfying to occasionally make some.”

That was what he had said once.

Though it was unexpected, you were actually beginning to like him.

Two Years Later

“I don’t understand why you didn’t let me hit him,” J’onn huffed as you two arrived home to your apartment, his skin turning from brown to green like it had so many times.

“Because you have super strength - for one,” you said bluntly, hanging your coat up, “And you get jealous easily.”

“I do not get jealous-”

You glared at him.

He sighed, “Maybe a little bit.”

“Mhmm,” you sounded knowingly.

“Well in any case...I am sorry I got us kicked out.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling the big Martian to you, “I supposed I can forgive you.  I mean it was funny to see you toss that asshole through a window.”

“He was getting handsy with you,” J’onn said in a mocking voice, “I don’t play that.”

You laughed as he kissed your lips.

“Come on,” you said pushing him on the couch.

“What are you up to?”

“None of your business,” you said playfully, “Just relax until I come out.”

J’onn waited a few minutes, resisting the urge to use his telekinesis to open the door to see what you were doing.

Soon, you returned - nude.

“Oh,” J’onn said, his crimson eyes darkening, “So that is what you were up to.”

You smirked, “Mhmmm.  But I do need some...relief.”

“Then it will be my honor to relieve you,” J’onn returned, shifting off his clothes until he was as naked as you were.

“Right this way then,” you said, opening the door.

J’onn’s eyes widened pleasantly at what he saw.

“Honey, this is beautiful.”

“Well I did try,” you said, “It’s not much but I wanted to do something special for our anniversary.  I paid the lady over at Lance’s flowers to pick all the petals and instead of candles I got lanterns.  You sure you like it?”

“I love it,” J’onn answered, hovering until he landed softly in the tub, “Come join me.”

You softly pittered and pattered until you were in the tub as well.

J’onn’s eyes darkened again at the way your body sunk into the water.

“What?”  You asked.

“You are so beautiful.”

“And you are handsome.”

J’onn smiled, “...Kiss me.”

You leaned forward and planted a deep smooch on the Martian’s lips.

But before you could pull away, J’onn pulled you back to him and made the kiss deeper.

He was into it.

“You are in a romantic mood today.”

“I am,” J’onn confirmed.

“I like it.  It makes me hot.”

“Please (Y/N), I need you.”

“Tell me how you need me.”

“I need to be inside of you.  I need...I need your heart.”

J’onn always was very seductive when he wanted to be.

You pulled him towards you, kissing him again.

Fuck it.

“Then show me what you’re made of,” you breathed as J’onn grabbed you by your hips.

The two of you spent that night together in each other’s arms, just like you both had wanted.

Just good business indeed, he thought.

Author’s Note:  And that is all for this one folks!  Hope y’all like this one.  Enjoy!

@lovelynervouschaos  @macfizzle  @cynbx  @efikarta  @coconutxraikage  @shemiahsmelanin  @jozigrrl  @fanfic-reblog-central  @icycoldbeanieweanies  @siriuslycollins  @bethany-zor-el-danvers  @avengerdragoness 

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs 12: The Meal

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

Dinner is served.

Read on AO3

Belle read for the rest of the afternoon. Sprawled out on the ground at Rumpelstiltskin’s feet, she let the book take her to a land more magical and adventurous than any she’d ever known. She followed the story of a brave warrior and his talking horse as they went on a great quest to save an empress whose health was fading a the same rate as the very existence of her kingdom. Together, Belle and the warrior travelled through the new land. They met friends and faced dangers and struggled ever onward, always just ahead of the terrible enemy that threatened to make them Nothing.

As gray evening turned into black night, Belle read of the warrior arriving at the ivory tower where the empress held her court. Here, he would give her the gem that would save her life and all of her people! Belle squinted at the page, trying to get just a little more of the story before the endeavor became completely hopeless. But there were no candles lit in Rumpelstiltskin’s tower, no fire for light or warmth.

With a chilled shiver, she admitted defeat. It was too dark to read. Belle looked up at Rumpelstiltskin. Could she ask him for a light? How much longer would he keep spinning?   

He worked steadily, in the fluid motion of a master craftsman. Throughout the day, Belle had stolen looks at him often enough to know how he worked. He fed straw into the spinning wheel’s orifice, seamlessly joining the stalks together to form an endless thread of wound gold on the bobbin. It was a great wheel he worked at, as tall as she was. His hand spun the large wheel lazily, but it hadn’t stopped all day.

Belle shut her book with more force than was strictly needed. The noise jolted Rumpelstiltskin out of the trance his spinning had woven around him. For the first time since Belle had sat down, he began to move. His feet shuffled and his body shifted on the stool.

“Oh,” he said. There were shadows enough that Belle could make out the shape of him. He looked around at the darkened tower. Was he surprised that it was suddenly nighttime?

He snapped his fingers and candles lit all over the room. Belle had half a mind to open the book again and see what the empress had to say to her warrior, but Rumpelstiltskin surprised her by standing up. He got up from the stool and removed the bobbin of gold from the flyer.

Belle looked up at him. “How do you know when to stop?” she asked. “Do you measure out enough gold to make a thousand coins and decide that’s enough for one day?”

“The gold is a day,” he answered quietly. He slid the thread off the bobbin and wound it neatly into a ball. Holding the ball of gold in one hand he opened a tall cupboard that was stacked with crowded shelves, each shelf weighed down by similar balls of thread. “These spools measure time. Sunrise to sunset. I try to make the whole thing in one go without stopping. I shall have to get another cabinet soon.”

Belle gawked at the shelf. There were hundreds of spools in that cupboard. Hundreds of days, sunrise to sunset, that he had spent alone, with nothing to do but endlessly spin.

Rumpelstiltskin shut the cupboard and turned his back to it. “So, dearie!” his voice was bright and purposeful. “You wandered right into the monster’s den. Very foolish!” He waggled his finger at her.

Belle blinked at the abrupt change in his tone. The game was beginning. She shook her hair over her shoulders and played along.  “I’m not afraid.”

“Ah, well you’ve never seen what I do to prisoners who break out of their cells to go for a stroll.” He sauntered into the center of the room, filling the empty floor with his motions like a mummer on the stage.

Crawling on the floor, Belle moved, close enough to watch him but not so close that she took his place on the imaginary stage. After all, she was his audience, even if she was also part of the show. “I didn’t break out of anything, Rumpelstiltskin. The door opened. You never said I had to stay in that cell.”

“If I did would you listen to me?”

She raised one cuffed wrist. “I would have to.”

“Well then wasn’t I clever to put those on you?”

“Oh yes, Rumpelstiltskin,” she grinned up at him. “You are the cleverest of all men.”

He scoffed. “You are a flatterer as well as a flirt. You know I’m not a man.”

“I am not a flatterer. You are clever.”

“But not a man.”

“If you’re not a man, what do you call that?” Still on the floor, Belle crawled onto the stage and knelt so that her face was directly in front of the bulge between his legs. She was upstaging him, but perhaps it wouldn’t matter. In his games she had freedom to speak boldly and act brazenly. “Is this not a manhood? Do you not take me as a man takes a woman?”

She looked up at him, and he was looking down at her, his expression not angry, but not playful either. His voice was almost a whisper as he ordered: “Kiss me, Belle. Right there.”

Belle pressed her mouth to his leather breeches, feeling the bulge grow larger against her lips. His body was warm against her face, a comfort in this cold room. Rumpelstiltskin put his hand on the back of her head and pressed her into him. She waited for the moment when he would free his cock and order her to suck on him, but that moment didn’t come. He just held her close, silently, and ran his fingers through her hair.

Belle was about to ask if she had played the game wrong when her growling stomach broke the silence.

Only then did she remember: She hadn’t had breakfast yet. She hadn’t eaten all day. She had been too involved in her exploration, and then in the book, and then in Rumpelstiltskin. She hadn’t thought of it, but her body had not forgotten what she needed.

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled and took a step back from her. “Is that why you’re so mouthy today, my girl? But my cock isn’t really a fit meal.”

Blushing crimson, Belle shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin--”

But he waved her into silence. “Stand up, silly thing. And come with me. I’m feeling rather peckish myself.”

They descended the tower steps and went to the dining room. On the way down, Belle noticed that the door to the angry room was securely shut, though she was sure she had left it ajar in her haste to get away.

In the dining room, Rumpelstiltskin sat at his chair at the head of the table. There was a place setting already laid out, an empty plate and silverware and a cut glass goblet for wine.

“There will be food in the cupboard,” he declared. “Get it out and serve it to me.”

Belle nodded and the cuffs pulled her to the cupboard that usually held the tea tray. This time when she opened the door she found a basket of steaming hot rolls. The smell of fresh bread made her stomach ache. She took the basket and went to Rumpelstiltskin.

“Set that down on the table. And bring the rest. Don’t stop until the cupboard is empty.”

After the rolls was a loaf of brown bread on a cutting board with a knife. She carried that to the table. When she came back to the cupboard she found a tray of flaky, crescent-shaped pastries. Then oat cakes. Then a tray of several different butters and jams and chutneys to spread on all the breads she had just brought out.

She wanted to rest, but the cuffs wouldn’t let her stop. After the breads, the cupboard produced three tureens of soup, one right after the other. They were heavy and awkward to carry over to the table. But she didn’t spill a drop.

Then there was a seafood course: salmon roasted whole, scallops cooked in butter. A barrel of oysters on ice should not have fit inside the wooden cupboard, but somehow one came out. She pulled out all manner of sea creatures, cooked until they were bright red--some small enough to eat by the handful and others large enough to merit their own platter.

Belle felt weak. The smells tantalized her aching stomach. The exertion of carrying so many heavy loads wearied her arms and legs. She tried not to imagine eating any of this fine food, not to assume that she would eat anything at all tonight. This was the Dark One’s meal. He would give her what he wanted her to have.

The fowl ranged from a plate of six braised birds each small enough to perch in her hand, to an enormous roast that was almost too cumbersome to move. A roasted duck, cooked with some fragrant fruit, made her mouth water. She served squab and hens and peacock and swan. The table was half covered now, with food enough for twenty men. Rumpelstiltskin had not begun to eat. He sat at the head of the table with his fingers steepled under his chin. His expression was hungry, but he only looked at Belle.

Course by course, she brought the food from the cupboard to the table. She served him endless trays of meat in juices and sauces and gravies. After she nearly dropped a whole suckling pig, she took a moment to wipe the sweat off her brow.

“You’re not done yet, dearie!” There was an imperious air to his voice, an artificial brightness that made Belle grind her teeth.

“I know,” she muttered.

She took out bowls of vegetables of all kinds, platters of cooked fruits, cakes and pastries beyond counting. One desert was on fire when she opened the cupboard, and remained burning without being consumed while she took it to the table. Then there were the endless casks of wines, meads, beers, brandys, milks and teas to quench his thirst.

The last food that appeared in the cupboard was the tea tray. As had become a custom, she brought the silver tray over to the Dark One and poured tea into the unchipped cup. With three sugars and cream, she presented it to him.

He took a sip and nodded. “It appears that that’s everything.”

Everything for him. Nothing for her.

“Shall I serve you?” She tried to keep her voice steady. “What would you like first?”

“First, I would like you to kiss my boots,” he said.

Belle fell to her knees without reluctance, but grimaced against the leather.

“And stay down there. I can manage this myself.”

It was a relief to be ordered not to show her face to him. She didn’t trust herself to show him what he wanted. She was too weary and too hungry to play anymore.

Belle didn’t kneel, but sat by his feet like a petulant child, her arms crossed over her knees. Would that posture compress her stomach? Could she trick it into feeling full even if she hadn’t eaten anything? She pressed her eyes into her knees, trying to fight the leaking tears.

After a few minutes, something fell onto Belle’s shoulder and bounced onto the floor. She looked at the thing, the small orange cube. A carrot?

“Oh drat, how clumsy of me,” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice came down from above the table in an odd pantomime of vexation.

Wordlessly, Belle picked up the carrot and offered it to him.

“No no no, it’s been on the floor!” He protested grandly, waving his hand. He pretended to have an idea. “But I suppose you could eat it. If you don’t mind the indignity.”

Oh. Oh, of course. Just like always, she would have to humiliate herself in order to eat. It was such a cruel game, but one she was too hungry not to play.

Belle put the carrot in her mouth. It was hot, and sweet, and carroty. Belle enjoyed the taste despite her exasperation. Why couldn’t he tell her the rules before he began to play with her?

“Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin.” She made her voice sweet and kissed his boots.

From above the table, Belle heard him snort.

It wasn’t long before he dropped something else. It was a bite of meat this time, and Belle picked it up and ate without asking.      

“Whatever has overtaken me today?” he acted like he was talking to himself. “I seem to be having some kind of fit!” As he spoke, he flung an entire plateful of food over his shoulder and onto the ground behind him. Belle crawled out to take the hot food in her hands and eat.

His chair turned around while he sat, looking at her with his face unmoving. From the floor, Belle met his gaze, but she kept devouring scraps like a beggar until there was nothing left on the floor.

“You could have just asked me, you know.” His soft voice broke the silence. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but I’d forgotten… I’d forgotten that you need to eat even when I don’t have use for you.”

Belle wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She tried to think of something to say, some way to tell him how she felt when she didn’t understand herself. “If it is your pleasure to starve me, then I will starve,” she tried. “I thought you wanted me to be miserable.”

“And sometimes I do. But you must tell me what you want and then I will decide whether or not to give it to you.”

She blinked. When had it ever mattered what she wanted? “So… all the food on the table, that’s not just to taunt me and torment me?

“It was to tempt you, my girl. To show you all that I could give you, if only you would ask for it.”

Belle swallowed down the taste of the food she had scraped off the floor.  “Your intentions were subtle.”

His hands bunched into fists, but his eyes did not leave her face. “Why haven’t you asked yet, Belle?”

Was it really so easy? “Rumpelstiltskin, may I have some food?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His eyes slowly closed, then opened. “You may have anything on the table. What would you like?”

Belle still couldn’t believe that she could get something just by asking for it. “The duck smelled wonderful.”

“Will you come back here to me?” The chair turned around and Belle crawled to kneel at his side. He carved off a slice of meat then picked it up and held it in his fingers. “Will you eat from my hand?”

Belle kept her hands on the ground as she took a dainty bite into her mouth. The duck was delicious and tender. She kissed his fingers when she had eaten all of it.

“Good girl,” he said softly. “Now do you want more of that or something different?”

“Different, please. Whatever you care to give me.”

“I will give you good things, Belle. As long as you ask me to.”

Rumpelstiltskin fed her from his hand. The whole meal, she knelt on the ground and he passed food down to her. When she was done with a bite, she would kiss his fingertips and he would caress her face, rub his thumb over her lips. With every morsel, he would let her know how good she was, how obedient.

From her vantage point on the floor, Belle couldn’t tell if he was actually eating anything himself. The game might have worked better if he was, especially if he had companion who was seated at the table with him. That was an image that sparked desire in Belle’s mind: the Dark One hosting an important guest, making deals with kings and wizards--and casually pausing in the middle of a sentence to give a scrap of food to his pet, to her.

How strange that she liked this game, Belle thought as she licked his fingers. He was treating her like a dog again, but it wasn’t humiliating this time. It was an act of affection that he was giving her, and he was allowing her to be affectionate toward him. After all, no one loved anyone the way a dog loved someone giving them food.

Belle almost spat out her cheese at that thought. Did Rumpelstiltskin really want her to love him? No.  No, of course not. But he was not discouraging her affection. He seemed pleased by her enthusiasm, as she kissed his hands and sucked juices off his fingers.

He fed her tastes of nearly everything on the table, every bird and fish, every vegetable and fruit. Bite by bite he fed her until she had to smile and say, “Enough, I’m done!”

“Two more, sweet girl. Two more things I want to put in your mouth.”

By this time, Belle was kneeling between his legs, looking up at him with her chin resting on the seat of his chair.

“Something sweet for you.” He showed her the dollop of light gray cream he had on two fingers. He put the cream in her mouth and kept his fingers inside her while she tasted it, only removing them after she swallowed.

“That’s delicious,” she said, keeping her eyes closed to enjoy the flavors of his skin mixed with surgary cream.

“And also, my dear, something sweet for me.” He scooted his chair up to the table, so that Belle had to back up for a moment before she could lean against him again, lean against the bulge in his now-open breeches. So that was how he wanted her to end her meal.

She nodded to herself. Fair enough.

It was dark under the table, but not the pitch blackness that her cell was on the night he had woken her to teach her how to perform this duty. No cloth draped over the tabletop and Belle could see the by firelight from the hearth. She saw the outline of Rumpelstiltskin’s cock, saw the proud tilt as it raised above his thighs.

She reached out to touch it, and felt the heat of him on her fingers. This was the first time she had held him in her hand. Curious, she traced the length of it with one finger, taking care to touch him with the pad of her fingertip and not the nail. His warning about teeth would surely apply to anything sharp or hard. As she held his cock in one hand, she felt the hardness of him, clothed in a loose skin that she could move back and forth around that hardened core.

She stroked him to the base of it, to the part where his cock met his groin. There was only a slight opening through Rumpelstiltskin’s leather breeches that allowed this part of him to escape. She tried to feel for a binding she might loosen to undress him, even slightly. She wanted to understand Rumpelstiltskin’s body, to know how best to please him--but the darkness and his clothing hindered her exploration.

“I believe I told you to use your mouth, dearie.” His voice came down, condescending.

Defiant, Belle set her hands on either of his leather-clad thighs and opened her mouth wide enough to take half his cock at once. She sucked on him--hard--and was gratified to hear cutlery rattling as he slammed his fist on the table.

His other hand grabbed her by the hair and pulled her mouth away from his cock. He stood up and pulled her off the floor. The pain in Belle’s scalp was excruciating but thrilling.

“You are a wicked girl,” he said, cheerfully. “And that is not a word I use lightly.”

Spittle stuck to her lips as she grinned at him. “I’m not sorry.”

“Nor should you be.” He let go of her hair and sat back down in the chair, pulling it a little away from the table. “But I don’t trust your mouth right now.” He patted his knee. “Come sit, facing me.”

The cuffs pulled her to wrap her hands around the carved spires that adorned the top of his chair. She positioned herself with both legs on either side of his, her robe opened to give him access to all her treasures. She could see his cock a little better now. It bobbed, upright between their bodies, a shadow in the darkness.

Her face was a little above Rumpelstiltskin’s. She looked down at him and saw his eyes,  wide and black with lust. He put one hand behind her back, to keep her steady, and with the other he parted her folds.

His nostrils flared when he touched her. “So!” he exclaimed. “What makes you wet tonight, my slut?”

Belle bit her lower lip but couldn’t stop her smile. “You do, Rumpelstiltskin.”

His fingers kept up their work in her. “Tell me what I did to put you in this state.”

“You fed me like a dog,” she answered. “You made me depend on you--on you, your hands, not your magic--for my basic comforts. You made me need you tonight.”

“And you like that?”

Belle closed her eyes, accepting the truth to herself even as she told it to him: “I do.”

“Well, I like this,” he said as he rubbed her wetness around on his fingers. He put them in his mouth--eyes closed to savor the taste--and Belle felt something clench inside her. Rumpelstiltskin opened his eyes and put his hand on Belle’s breast. “And I like these,” he said. He squeezed her roughly into his palm, then pinched at her nipple until Belle whined with desire.

“Do you want something, little one?”

She nodded.

“Then ask me for it.”

“Please, Rumple--” His fingernail scraped at her nipple and the jolt of pleasure took her words away from her before she could finish the name. Belle gasped and said the next sentence in a one breath: “Rumpelstiltskin, please put your cock in me!”

“If you insist.” He took his hand away from her breast and used it to guide his manhood inside her. Belle lowered herself onto him, wrapping her legs through the space between the arms of the chair.

They faced each other now. Belle had her arms around his neck and he was holding her waist with both hands. By silent agreement, they both took a moment to adjust to the position. His eyes were still lustful, but tinged with caution, concern. He seemed ready to abandon this endeavour if he sensed that she wasn’t up to the challenge.

  Belle nodded, trying to let him know that she was ready for this, that she wanted him and wanted to have him in this manner. It was new, it was only moderately comfortable, but she wasn’t afraid.

“You’ll have to do the thrusting, my sweet. Take your time, go easy if you have a need. I won’t rush you.”

Belle experimented with different ways to settle her body, trying to find the exact configuration that would be comfortable as well as pleasurable. It felt so good even to stay still with him inside her, to let him fill her. But she had to move, even if it felt superfluous.

She started slowly, simply. She pulled herself down as far as she could go without it hurting, and then pushed her body up as far as she could without having him pop out of her. In and out, the familiar rhythm. Being on top of him like this, Belle was able to control how deeply he went in to her, how quickly.

In the firelight, she was able to watch his face. His eyes were so dark she could see her body reflected in them. In his eyes, her flesh wavered like a delicate flame--pale and small and always moving.

Holding on to the chair arms, Belle leaned back to let him get a full look at her. After a moment, she stopped moving to untie her robe and shrug it off her shoulders. She wanted him to see her naked. He didn’t say anything, but did nod his approval.

“Rumpelstiltskin, am I pretty?”

Without a word, he shifted his position so that Belle fell forward onto his body. He caught her upper arms and held her as still. His black eyes slowly looked her over. He leaned in and smelled her hair, her neck, the sweat on her chest.

“You,” he said at last, his voice so deep as to be nearly growling, “are the most ravishing creature I’ve seen in a hundred years.”

Again she felt the clenching between her legs, only now it had his cock to clench onto. He could feel it too. His hands gripped Belle more tightly for a moment, then relaxed.

He used both hands to touch her breasts and in no time at all, he was sucking on her. Belle clenched at the feeling and then again when she looked down and saw his green-gray skin against the soft pink of her flesh, his bright red tongue teasing her dark red nipple.

She cried out at the sight, and when he opened his eyes she cried out again. He looked at her as though she were the entire world. As though he were starving and she the finest meal. As though there was nothing he wanted more than to have her and devour her--consume her in every way imaginable.

The clenchings were coming more frequently and she realized she was coming. He kept his eyes on her while she tried to stay focused on her movements. She wanted to keep his cock in her. It felt so good to come around his cock.

But then he placed one finger on one spot between her legs and Belle was done for.

Her orgasm was loud and almost panicked. She was afraid that she would lose his cock in her frenzy--when that was what had brought her to this state in the first place. His cock and his mouth and his fingers and his eyes.

She screamed and held on to him for all she was worth while the waves of pleasure threatened to carry her away. For his part, he held her close and encouraged her passion with filthy words exclaimed loud enough for her to hear.

By the time she was finished, Belle had jerked herself away from Rumpelstiltskin and his cock and the chair. She was half-leaning, half-lying on the table, panting and throbbing.

Rumpelstiltskin stood up from the chair, his cock still hard in his hand. “Your mouth again, Belle. Quickly!”

She leaned forward to swallow him, tasting her own wetness as she sucked. He came in no time at all and the shock of it made her recoil. She moved her head away but held him in her hand as his seed poured out over her. For the first time, she was able to examine the evidence of his pleasure.

The fluid was dark, but glinted gold in the firelight, like his skin. The contrast of his darkness against her pale flesh was captivating. Rumpelstiltskin stepped away, but Belle kept staring at what he left on her hand.

It was hot on her skin, as warm as his body against hers. It had an odor, but the only word Belle could think of to describe it was “fleshy.” She tasted it, as she had tasted so many things that night, and found it to be not unpleasant. Salty, and fleshy again. Strange, but not terrible.

“Oh, stop that, girl,” Rumpelstiltskin said, exasperated. “You’ve already impressed me.” He produced a handkerchief and took Belle’s hand to wipe away all traces of himself.

Belle said nothing and allowed herself to be cared for. Rumpelstiltskin’s hands were gentle, as he cleaned his pleasure off of her. Standing her up, he picked her robe off the floor and wrapped the blue silk around her shoulders. He brushed her hair back from her face and gave her a soft smile.

“Let me take you back to your cell.” He put his hand on Belle’s waist and lead her. “I wouldn’t want you to wander off and get lost.”

Belle looked down at the floor, at her bare feet walking beside his boots. “Will you lock me in, now that I know I can leave?”

“No,” he said softly. “The castle is your home now, you can go anywhere the cuffs allow.”

“May I come find you again?”

He glanced at her. “Why would you want to?”

She shrugged. “This place is lonely.”

“And you would suffer even my company?”

“It isn’t sufferance, Rumpelstiltskin. I like your company.”

They were quiet as he guided her through the halls of his castle. But it was a comfortable quiet, a companionable silence. The silence of two people who didn’t always need words.

That had been the best part of tonight, Belle decided. That moment of silent agreement, when both of them had trusted the other, when their minds had been as one as their bodies. They were like dancers now. They knew the steps they had to make and they trusted their partner to do their part.

“Belle.” He put his hand on her arm and they both stopped. He looked at her, his brow furrowed. “Belle, you don’t… hate me. You really don’t.”

It wasn’t a question, but he sounded so utterly confounded that Belle knew he needed her to answer.

“Hate you?” Belle almost wanted to laugh. But he was serious. He was looking at her as though she were the only star in an endless night. “No, Rumpelstiltskin.” She put her hand over his where he held her other arm. He tensed at her touch. “I’ve never hated you.”

Slowly, he began to nod. It looked as though he were considering new information, trying to understand some arcane mystery. “You should hate me,” he said after a pause. “You still can, if you want to.”

Belle nodded with all the solemnity that statement required. “I’ll keep that in mind, Rumpelstiltskin.”  

He kept his hand on her arm as they walked back to the cell. They stood together in the doorway, and he did not let go of her arm.

“Sounds like the rain stopped,” Belle said for the sake of having something to say. She hoped her bench would be dry enough to sleep on with some comfort.

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin said distantly. For once, his eyes were not on her. They seemed to be looking at something a long way off.

Slowly, his hand trailed down her arm, his fingers lingering over the silk until he caught her hand in his. He brought it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Belle.” Now his eyes locked on hers again.

“Yes,” Belle agreed. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. “Good night, Rumpelstiltskin.”

His voice was no more than a shaky breath as he let go of her hand. “Good night.”

[elejah-wonderland]

Sweet Love/3

Fanfiction

Part 3

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

AU TVD/TO story

Premise: Elijah Mikaelson is an ex-race car driver, who is jobless, due to an accident and he is in dire need of a job. Y/N is a CEO of a multinational confectionary company. Due to some threats, she needs to hire a driver/bodyguard. Will loves spark?

Also featuring Klaus Mikaelson as a mechanic, and Kol Mikaelson as a writer. Caroline Forbes as Y/N best friend.

a/n: thanks so much for reading and liking. Also, if there are any mistakes, I apologize. English is my second language. xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @elejahforever @fafulous @goddessofthunder112

_________

That evening

Elijah got in the Whitmore diner, where Klaus and Kol waited for him already.

"Where are you? Last night you bailed on us! Today, you're not answering any calls?"- Klaus said-"wearing a suit? Did someone die?"

Elijah took his tie off and putting it in the jacket pocket answered Klaus -

"Yes, someone died, but this is not why I am wearing a suit. I got a job. Hey, it's good to see you, Kol."

"Same here, mate."- Kol said.

"A job?"- Klaus now cut in.

"Yes."- Elijah confirmed.

The waitress, who was their friend from school days came now to them and they ordered some food before he continued telling his cousins how it all came about.

"What's the job?"- Kol as asked.

"Driving. A chauffer's job"- Elijah replied.

"What?"- Klaus couldn't believe it-"you said you will never do that!"

"I know, but this is - different."- Elijah said.

"Different? How? You didn't say you are looking for anything? You could have worked at the garage."

"As what?"- Elijah said-"I am no mechanic."

"True."- Klaus said-" but - we would think of something. Anyway, who is it for? And how is this different?"

Elijah now told all that had happened the night before, how he met Y/N, and all that had occurred since.

"You are kidding me?"- Klaus couldn't believe the extraordinary story.

"Y/N- wow!"- Kol said.

At that moment, Davina got in, and as they were sitting in the first booth, she heard Kol's exclaiming.

"Y/N- what?"- Davina said sittind down next to her brother-"- her look wide-eyed awaiting an answer.

"He is driving Miss Y/N "- Klaus replied before Elijah could.

"This is a joke, right?"- Davina could not believe what she was hearing,

"I am."- Elijah now said.

How, what, when - questions ensued again. And Elijah had to explain to his sister how it all came about.

"This is wild!"- Davina was elated-"OMG! I got to call Monique!"

She got her phone out and immediately texted her friend. Her friend called her right back and Davina now went out to take the call.

Klaus and Elijah exchanged looks as to say - Davina's gone nuts.

What no one noticed was Kol,staring at a woman the moment she walked in the diner. It was Bonnie Bennett, her friend from college. He had not seen her for years. Now, his heart kicked a flatter, seeing her looking gorgeous. He now made an excuse that he had to go to the bathroom.

“What’s up with him?”- Elijah asked as he had noticed Kol’s odd behaviour.

Klaus waved it off as he didn’t know. He now went off telling Elijah about the blonde goddess he had been with last night.  

Returning from the bathroom, Kol stopped at the booth, Bonnie now sat down at greeting her.

“Kol? Hey- how are you?”- Bonnie said cheerfully.

“I’m good. How are you? What are you doing - here?”

“Ahm- my boyfriend is from here. We are visiting his parents.”- Bonnie replied.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Kai Parker.”

“Kai is your boyfriend?”- Kol said with a tad of surprise and disappointment in his voice. He had the loathing cleverly behind his eyes. He now saw Kai walk in, and not wanting to meet up with him he now said see you around maybe to Bonnie and went to join his brother and his cousin.

Both Elijah and Klaus now asked him why his mood was suddenly so very off. He now told them about Bonnie, and her date.

“Haven’t seen him here for ages. Or any of his sisters.”- Klaus said.

“I can’t believe she is with him.”- Kol now said.

“Seriously, what’s up with you and her?”- Elijah now asked.

“Nothing. I just fancied her like hell in college, but she always managed to be with one or the other jerk”- Kol replied.

“And never gave you the time of day”- Klaus now remarked.

“Anyway, what’s up with you and Greta?”

“We broke up.”- Kol said-”she wanted to go to California, and I just was not up for leaving at the West Coast.”- Kol explained-”can we talk about something else? Tell us more about Y/N”

“There is nothing to tell”- Elijah said tucking into his food.

“Oh, come on. You can do better than that”- Klaus now said.

“As I said. There is nothing to tell.”

Hayley Marshall now walked in the diner and Klaus now remarked-

“Here is trouble.”

The brunette now seeing the brothers and her ex strolled up to them, greeting the bunch. And the way she was, she sat down next to Klaus and started chatting to them as if they welcomed her presence.

All three of them were happy to see Davina return and one bye one they excused themselves and left the diner. But before Elijah could escape, she kind of grabbed him by the hand asking him out for a drink.

“Yeah, maybe”- Elijah said and swaying his look to his sister, telling her not to stay out long he went.

A bit later in his apartment, Elijah laid down in his bed, thinking of only one woman. Y/N. Wondering how she was doing, as he left her all sad. 

💘

The next day, Elijah arrived at the Gilbert house half an hour before the agreed time.

A woman walked out of the house, now greeting the driver.

"Y/N said that you should wait for her inside. She will not be ready yet. She has an emergency conference call."

Elijah nodded a little and followed the woman into the house.

"I am Rose."- the woman said.

"Elijah Mikaelson."

"I know. Nice to meet you."

Aiden, who had arrived quite early that morning already, now got out of the study and greeted Elijah. Rose now left the two, as Isobel had already demanded Rose come to her aid.

"So, sorry about this."- Aiden said to Elijah-"but, can't let her go, before she talks to the Belgians. You, have a cup of coffee or some refreshments. Oh, and- whenever she let's you go today, please call me so we can talk her schedule for the next week. It is completely changed."

"Ok, I will."- Elijah said.

Y/N now appeared at the door of the study, wandering where Aiden got to.

"Hello"- she said to Elijah seeing him there with Joel- "Sorry, we are running late. But, I will be ready as soon as we wrap this up."

"Hello."- Elijah said back-"it's all right. I'll be - in the kitchen."

"Thank you."- Y/N said and now swaying her look at Aiden that said please hurry, went back to the study.

"Kitchen?"- Elijah asked Aiden.

"Down the corridor to the end. On the left. Mary makes the most divine  mini cinammon rolls."

Elijah was like- Mary,who? Aiden told him that he will find out. And so, Elijah ventured to the kitchen.

Mary was the family's cook. And she greeted Elijah like she knew him forever.

"Sit down. Coffee? Black with milk."

"How did you know that?"- Elijah asked.

"Never mind how I know things. Hungry?"- Mary said.

"No, not really."- Elijah replied.

"Two eggs and bacon?"- Mary continued.

"Thank you, but I was told that we will be leaving soon to wherever Ms Y/S is going."- Elijah replied.

"It will take a while till Y/N is ready."- Mary said.

"I thought that she is always on schedule."- Elijah was confused.

"Yes. That is when life doesn't throw you a kick in the gut."- Mary said.

"I don't quite understand."

Mary now served him the coffee and continued- "Ms Y/S as you called her, is juggling her mother, the news that she got engaged, which is all over the news, as well as trying to have the factory run smoothly. They are not even letting her grieve."

"She had a special connection with - Alaric? I’m sorry but I don’t know who he was”

"The family's butler. He came when Y/N was a little girl. And yes, they had a special connection. You see, her father worked all day and night to get the business going, and whenever she really needed a parent to talk to, Alaric has always been there for her."- Mary explained.

"I understand."- Elijah now said.

The way Mary now looked at Elijah, like she was sizing him up, which made Elijah say-

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Everything is just right."- Mary said-"she will be fine."

"Excuse me?"

"Nevermind me. How about a brunch?"

Elijah sighed a little and agreed to it.

💘

Elsewhere

Klaus' garage, Whitmore

Caroline, who has always been a person living the life to the max, didn't waste her time or waited for the life to come to her. She would always grab it. She now parked her grandfather's oldtimer right in front of the garage. Marcel, one of Klaus' men, now greeted her as she got in, looking for Klaus.

Klaus now got from the little office and greeted the blonde.

"How can I help you?"- Klaus said in his charming smirky way.

"I was wondering if you could service it?"- Caroline said pointed to the car-"I heard that you are the best."

"Am I?"- Klaus said.

"Well, the guys from the bar think so. If it is not so I can always take it somewhere else."

"I will look at it."

Klaus now went to the car, admiring it-

"Classic Pontiac GTO. 1968. A beauty."

"So, you can look at it? It makes a strange sound when I change gears."

"Let's test drive it and see what is wrong with it?"- Klaus said.

"Let's."- Caroline accepted with a smirky smile.

"Marcel. Hold the fort. I won't be long."- Klaus said as he got in the car, accompanied with Caroline.

💘

At the Gilbert' house

An hour or so after Elijah had arrived, Y/N finally got out of the study with Aiden. And before she could escape to the kitchen, her mother got her in the corridor now asking her about Lucien and the engagment as it was all over social media.

"I really don't want to talk about it now. Aiden will deal with that."

"Ok. Have you decided who will take over running the house?"- Isobel asked.

"No. But Rose is willing to do the job for now, until we find someone. I have to go now, mom."

"Yes. You always have somewhere to go to."- Isobel was complaining-"how will I manage everything?"

Y/N wanted to scream that she never had managed anything, but she kept quite and now apologized and went to the kitchen.

Elijah got up from the chair at the island as Y/N walked in.

"I am so sorry that you had to wait for such a long time. We can go."- Y/N said.

"Right."- Elijah said.

"Ok. We can get out here."- Y/N said and indicated they exit through the kitchen back door. She went out first, and Elijah followed her.

Mary, who was at the cooker preparing the dinner, noticed the very interesting dynamic between the two and smiled a little. Aiden, who now got into the kitchen, for the famous mini rolls, having noticed the cooks smile said-

"I think that you are thinking what I am thinking."

Mary now turned to the assistant- "I have never heard her apologize to any other driver for waiting for her."

"Exactly. Caroline told me that- but you have to keep this to yourself- they met under very unusual circumstances in Whitmore."

"No gossip, please. Y/N is not like Caroline. No matter, how much I like Caroline, she is way too much of a free spirit."- Mary said-"but what of this engagement?"

"Let's not even go there. I have a feeling that the Doctor Disaster felt that she was slipping away."- Aiden said-"I hope she falls for our Mr Gorgeous."

"Let's hope."- Mary said-"He is such a sweet young man."- the cook referred to Elijah. 

"He is a dish."- Aiden said-"All right I got to go and work."

Aiden now left as well.

💘

An hour later, Y/N and Elijah arrived at the place outside of the city. It was an old people's home. Y/N spent a little while inside, and as she got out, she said to Elijah -

"Can we go somewhere- anywhere. I just don't want to go home just yet. And I got my phone if Aiden calls."

"Yes, we can. What did you have in mind? Do you want to eat something or-?"

"Yes. I am hungry a bit."- Y/N replied.

"Ok. I know a place."- Elijah said and remembered a small fish place on the beach a couple miles away.

It was a nice Seafood Schack and Grill that his father used to take them when they were kids.

"This is great."- Y/N said as they got to the place.

"They have fresh produce and it's- family friendly. I loved coming here. Every summer he would take us here. We would spend a day on the beach. "      

The way Elijah spoke about it, said what a great time he must have had there.

"Do you mind if I take the suit jacket off?"- Elijah then said.

"Yes. Sure. Oh, this is not right. I should not be - taking your time -"- Y/N said suddenly realizing that they stepped over the line of employer and employee-"maybe we should go back."

"Why? I thought you were hungry?"- Elijah said.

"Yes, but - it's not right that you spend time with me - I mean- this is not work. This is - me- usurping -"

"Y/N- can I call you, Y/N?"- Elijah now said.

"Yes."

"The last couple of days were not exactly easy for you and- I completely understand if you want to escape for an afternoon- and I don't mind- "- he stopped there for a second trying to gather his thoughts-"You are not usurping my time. On the contrary- we- if you want- this can be like- two friends went out of the town- for an afternoon."

Y/N now smiled a little-"Ok. So- friend- what do you recommend?"

"Grilled fish. Sea bass. Salad. A glass of white wine. Simple."- Elijah said.

"Excellent."- Y/N was happy.

They got in the Grill, and they had exactly what Elijah suggested. And all during the meal they shared stories about their childhood as if they were friends that were going down the memory lane.

A bit later, as they finished with the food they went down the beach for a little walk. It was an afternoon of real escape, for both of them. They were not a rich woman from the Falls, and he was not the ordinary guy from Whitmore. Just Elijah and Y/N.

Come and take a trip on my rocket ship We'll have a lovely afternoon Kiss the world goodbye and away we'll fly Destination moon Travel fast as light 'til we're lost from sight The earth is like a toy balloon What a thrill you get riding on a jet Destination moon We'll go up, up, up, up Straight to the moon we two High in the starry blue I'll be out of this world with you And away we steal in a space mobile A supersonic honeymoon Leave your cares below, pull the switch, let's go Destination moon

It was like they were both on the moon. Y/N did pull the switch. She didn't know when it was the last she left all her cares behind.

"And this is how you became a race driver?"- Y/N said.

"Yes. Just like that. They thought that I was born to do it. I signed the contract and- there I was."- Elijah said as he finished telling  Y/N how he became an Indy car race driver."

"It's great to do what you dream of doing?"- Y/N said.

"Don't you? I thought that the factory is your passion?"

"Well, it- the new recipes and the whole process of getting a new product, but- everything else- making deals and always trying to be on top of everything. It- it sometimes- too much. But I am not complaining. It's just- Caroline is right - sometimes I just need to take time for myself. So, I want to thank you for this- for today- it was - really a great day. "

"I am glad that you had a great time- Y/N-"

And there they were- Elijah's eyes delightfully probed right into Y/N's. 

[chelseyroseblog]

EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT INTERMITTENT FASTING + MY PERSONAL RESULTS

Well Hiii there! 

Okay so INTERMITTENT FASTING. Let's talk about it. 

First of all, leave me a comment below if you've ever tried it and let me know how it went for you! I did intermittent fasting (I.F.) for my very first time like 4 or 5 years ago and I LOVED IT. I actually also thought it was super easy. I remember adjusting to it quickly and being able to stick to it for longer than I had initially planned...like MONTHS. 

Haha - not quite the story this time around. 

Okay so first of all:

What is intermittent fasting???

Most people won't call it a diet as much as it is just a new way of eating or an "eating pattern". There's a few different ways that you can do it but the idea is that you allow yourself to only eat for a certain period of time and then you FAST for the rest of the day. 

For example, if I eat dinner at 8pm and then go to sleep, then have breakfast at 10:00am the following day - I technically just fasted for 14 hours. So a lot of us are already basically doing it!!

The reason I wanted to try it again though was because I work late nights at a cocktail lounge and sometimes (okay a lot of the time) that leads me to snacking late at night. I'll nibble on some bread or some little cookies if I'm bored so I just wanted to really try and cut myself off from that in a way that would last. 

I figured if I did I.F., that I would start eating at Noon, stop eating at 8pm, then fast for 16 hours. (This is probably the most popular method). So - this is the method I went with and girrrrl it was rough haha. 

Is Intermittent Fasting Healthy?

YES. YES. YES. Like I mentioned before, a lot of us are already DOING it. Studies have shown that even people who fast every OTHER DAY still lost 2.5% of their initial body weight and 4% of their initial body fat percentage over the course of 22 days. (Study here). 

That's 3 weeks!! 

When we fast, our levels of HGH (human growth hormone) sky rocket - which is a GREAT thing! When our levels of HGH go up, we are more likely to experience weight loss, increased energy, increased mental clarity, improved sleeping patterns and a stronger immune system...just to name a few. 

Also while fasting, our insulin sensitivity improves which is always a plus because when our insulin levels are LOW, access to our fat storages is HIGHER.

Studies also show that fasting reduces inflammation within the body, it may reduce LDL's (unhealthy cholesterol), (study) supports brain health by increasing a brain hormone called BDNF and also may help prevent Alzheimer's (study). 

Moral of the story - YES, IT'S HEALTHY, and SAFE, for the most part.

The only time someone should avoid I.F. is if they are trying to become pregnant and are having problems with fertility, or if they are pregnant or breast feeding. Also if someone has had serious eating disorders in the past then it's probably not a good idea to do I.F.

Also - if you have diabetes or low blood sugar then fasting would not be ideal for you.

Anyway! You can drink coffee or tea, work out and take certain medications WHILE fasting but always talk to your doctor first. Personally, I would drink a small coffee in the am with some almond milk and that would get me through my workout! 

Although - "work out" is a relative term. I know my body so I pushed myself to MY personal limit, and if I felt like I was getting too low on blood sugar to be doing a tough workout, then I would opt for a hike instead. 

Always do feel what feels right for YOU and not what other people say they do or say is "right" or "wrong". You don't want to take the risk of passing out during an exercise, right? RIGHT. 

More of The Benefits

You might be wondering the same thing that I was before I started which was - Does I.F. slow down my metabolism?? I mean, there's so many people out there who are stuck on the idea that WE MUST eat every couple of hours and we can never skip breakfast or we'll go to hell soooo what's the deal??

I learned that studies have actually showed that short-term fasting BOOSTS metabolism (study), but longer fasts (like 3 days or more) can slow it down (study). 

While fasting your cells also undergo repair, you eat less, you lose weight, and have the opportunity to try and help prevent yourself from cancer! WINNING. 

Okay so like, where the fuck do you even start right?

Here. 

How to actually DO Intermittent Fasting. 

Like I said before you can do the 16 hour fast where you just pick 8 hours in the day where you will be eating. It doesn't have to be Noon - 8:00pm, it can be 10:00am - 6:00pm, or whatever, just do something that work best with your sched. (This is where I messed up lol, we'll get into that). 

The other 2 popular ways to practice I.F. are:

1. Mini Fasts - This is what I like to call them. This means that you fast for 24 hours once or twice a week. My only suggestion with this is, don't do it on a busy day when you have like 899 things going on. Do it on a day where you're going to be alone and unbothered so that you can be in control and not go all hangry on someone. 

2. The 5:2 Method - This is where you eat normally for 5 consecutive days, and then for the last 2 days, you consume 500-600 total calories for the day. 

1 FOR SURE WAY I.F. WILL NOT WORK:

At the end of the day, this isn't magic. No one has figured out how you can have your cake and eat it too MEANING, during the hours that you ARE eating, you still need to be reasonable with your caloric intake. 

The big reason that IF works is because you are on a CALORIE RESTRICTION. If you just don't eat for 16 hours and then go and eat even MORE calories during your 8 hour time window than you would on a normal day - then you will not lose weight. You might even gain weight lol. 

So be smart about it. 

Start with the 16 hour method and see how it goes. If you get to a point where that no longer feels challenging to you or your results have plateaued, then try the Mini Fasts, then move on to trying the 5:2 method. 

An even less direct way to begin 'fasting" would be to just skip dinner or breakfast if you aren't hungry! 

My Intermittent Fasting Results:

Hokay - soooooo. I think alternating days of fasting will be something that I try nextt!! Because the 16 hour back to back fasting didn't really do it for me BECAUSE my schedule is so insane. 

For most people the fasting is somewhat easy because they eat dinner around 8 and hit bed around 10 or 11pm like a normal person, and then get up at like 8 or 9 and then only have a few hours of conscious fasting. 

ME ON THE OTHER HAND. I work until 12 or 1am and then have to wake up at 5:30am, train someone at 7, then go to school from 8am-11am, and then workout from 11am - noon AND THEN I would try to break my fast. 

LOL. 

Guuurl.

Day 1 : I didn't get a coffee and wanted to die during my workout, then went home and had the biggest salad in the universe with 2 pieces of chicken. I was full for literally HOUUUURS, Like did not get hungry again until maybe 6:30pm? At which point I realized I had under 2 hours to eat before I had to start it all over again. 

Day 2: Woke up at 5:30 after closing last night and went straight to starbucks for a small capp. Felt better today but still noticed really low energy throughout the morning. I had the same chicken salad for lunch again and then wanted to take a nap because I just felt SO tired but I managed to pull through. 

Day 3: Same ish, different day...except, I actually wasn't starving at noon so I ended up not even breaking my fast until like 1:30! This was nice because then I let myself eat until later in the evening. I personally enjoyed some wine and included those calories in on MyFitnessPal to make sure I was still in my 1,200-1,400 calorie range for the day. I also noticed by day 3 that my stomach was flatter and my waist felt smaller.

Day 4: Started to realize I hate intermittent fasting this way haha. Also realized that not having anything to eat for 16 hours after 2 glasses of wine was a dumb idea so I caved on this morning and bought a Power Crunch Bar. I almost felt like it didn't even do anything haha. 

Day 5: I waited until noon to eat and then I decided that I didn't want to fast anymore so I don't know when my last meal was on this day. 

Basically what I learned was that:

1. My schedule is too insane right now to be doing the 16 hour fasting. 

2. I would eat such a big meal at lunch that I would end up having a smaller dinner which would screw me over because then I would end up eating MUCH less than what I wanted to which is why the mornings were so difficult. 

3. I wasn't prepared with snacks at school for when my fast broke. Honestly, I didn't bring them because I knew that if I felt like I was super hungry around 10:00am and I knew I had a bar in my backpack, I would have eaten it haha so it was better for me to not even bring it. 

All in all i'm really happy that I gave this another shot and that I was able to learn SO much more about it along the way. I'm still super interested in the benefits of IF which is why you'll see me on Instagram over the next few weeks playing around with Mini Fasts :)

Try intermittent fasting and let me know what you think!

Until next time!!!

 XXXX

[crazy4dragons]

Drabble: Adjustments

With a new addition to the family, Hiccup and Astrid need to make some adjustments around Berk. The only problem is, Hiccup doesn't want to. ... Hiccup walked through the door to see Astrid settled in a comfortable chair, her feet tucked underneath her and two-week-old Stoick sleeping in her arms. "How's our son?" asked Hiccup, leaning in to kiss his wife. "He was a little fussy this morning, but he's okay now." Astrid smiled at her infant. "I still can't believe what a sweetheart he is. And he's so tiny, too." The young chief laughed softly. "I don't think you've put him down since he was born. He's gonna get spoiled." "You can't spoil a baby this young," Astrid insisted. "And besides, what can I do besides hold him? I can't go flying or anything." While giving birth, Astrid had torn, and as a result, had received two small stitches in a place she hadn't even known stitches could exist. As a result of both that and the post-birth bleeding that was practically the worst period she'd ever experienced, she needed to take it easy for a few weeks. No flying, no patrols, no combat training. "You could draw," suggested Hiccup. "That's your thing," Astrid shrugged. She cradled little Stoick closer to her chest. "And besides, I like keeping him where I can see him. I mean, the first month of a baby's life is risky, and after what Valka said the first month of your life was like, I just wanna make sure he stays safe." "I'm sure he will," Hiccup assured. "After all, he has your strength." The blonde smiled as her baby's eyes cracked open. Fussing, he reached out a helpless hand to reassure himself that Astrid was still there. "What? Do you wanna eat?" "I'll start supper while you nurse him," Hiccup offered. "What are you hungry for?" "Yak and bread would be nice," Astrid said, unbuttoning her nightgown just enough to allow Stoick room for nursing. "And we have leftovers from the other day." "I'll warm them up." "Thanks, babe." Sighing, Astrid guided her son to her breast and watched as he struggled to begin suckling. Neither one of them had quite gotten used to the whole nursing process yet, so every time he ate, it was a struggle to find a suitable position in which to hold him that was comfortable for both baby and mother. "How are you feeling?" Hiccup asked, coming up behind his wife and placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm fine." Astrid grabbed a nearby baby blanket and tucked it under her infant's head. "Here you go," she murmured to him. "You just need a little extra boost. Now you can reach better." "Aww, look at him eat," said Hiccup. The blonde tilted her head up to meet her husband's gaze. "You know, having sex with you was the best decision I ever made." Hiccup laughed. "That's not what you were saying while you were pregnant and in labor." "Well, those parts were rough, but it was worth it to have this little guy." "You're not upset you can't fly?" "I'll probably sneak a flight or two in the next couple days. Stormfly will go easy on me if I ask her." "Yeah, but just be careful, okay? Stoick needs his Mama to stay healthy." "When am I ever not careful?" Shaking his head, Hiccup leaned in to kiss his wife's forehead. "I love you, milady. You and this little guy." He used his thumb to brush a drop of milk off of little Stoick's chin. "Yeah, he's a messy eater," Astrid remarked. "And he takes an eternity to finish a meal." As the baby freed his bare feet from the blanket he was wrapped in, she quickly began to rub them in an attempt to keep him warm. "No socks for him?" "I'm not wearing socks either, babe." Astrid stretched out her own feet. "And no leggings?" Hiccup asked, catching sight of the blonde's bare legs. "My gods, milady. You must be freezing." "Not really. I've been cuddling with him by the fire all day." She gestured to her son. Hiccup raised an eyebrow. "Cheating on me, are you?" Astrid laughed. "Well, I found myself a better man." "Mm-hm. Sure you did." "By the way, your mom stopped over earlier," Astrid began after a few moments of silence had passed between the couple. "She gave us some herbs." "For what?" "Some are to help me heal from giving birth, and the rest are to help your leg. She said you told her it's been bothering you lately." "It's not that bad," Hiccup insisted. "That's not what she was saying." The blonde took a deep breath."Why didn't you say anything to me, babe?" "Because I knew you were busy trying to take care of yourself and the baby, and I didn't wanna make you feel like you had to take care of me, too." He paused. "And besides, it's okay. Really, it is. It just hurts from all the chiefing I've been doing recently." "Have you thought about appointing an acting general?" Astrid asked. "You know, to help you out until Stoick doesn't need me all the time?" "I don't know about that." "I'm just saying, he's probably gonna be nursing a lot until he's three moons old or so. After that, I'll be able to leave him with Valka during the afternoons, but until then, you really need someone to help you out who's not responsible for nourishing a baby." "Who would I get?" Moving in front of the chair, Hiccup began to pace. "Fishlegs and Ruffnut just got married, and it wouldn't be fair to ask them to take time away from each other. I mean, even you and I got a moon to ourselves. And then Snotlout and Heather are planning to get married in the next moon, and judging by how secretive they've been acting lately, I'm almost sure she's already expecting. So that just leaves Tuffnut, and you know how irresponsible he is." "What about Gobber? Or your mom?" "Gobber's already done his fair share. And my mom's still new to Berk." "Eret?" "He's new to Berk, too." "But he clearly has leadership skills. And warrior skills." Hiccup sighed. "I guess, but --" "But nothing, Hiccup. You need to find someone. If you don't, you're gonna drive yourself crazy. And besides, wouldn't you like to spend more time with your son?" "Yes, I do wanna spend more time with him, but I can't just leave Berk to sink. Astrid, you're the only one I trust enough to be General. I just can't imagine having anyone else in that spot. You're smart, brave, strong, and you can think like my dad. And he was probably the best Chief Berk had in years." "I'm flattered, babe, but you need to be practical. I mean, we have a baby now, and a baby is a huge responsibility. And as the baby's mother, most of that responsibility falls under me. Until he starts weaning, at least. Then you can help out more. But in the meantime, we gotta find a way to balance everything. And part of that is appointing an acting general." "Okay, fine. You want an acting general, you pick one. But if anything goes wrong --" "It won't go wrong. It'll be fine. Just trust me. Eret will do a great job." As Stoick began fussing, Astrid shifted him to her other breast and helped him latch. "Don't worry, little one. I have more for you," she murmured to him. "So you're picking Eret?" asked Hiccup. "Why not? Like I said before, he has the skills needed to help run an island. And I also think Gobber could pitch in. You know, guide him a little bit if he gets stuck." The young chief let out a heavy sigh. "Alright. I'll talk to Eret after we eat, and then make the announcement tomorrow." "Good. And as I've been saying, you won't regret it."

[devilishdewitt]

“Ladies of Burlesque”, March 2019.

~The Eternal Disclaimer~

It is hereby declared that this little nook of the world wide web shall be devoted to the praise & critique of the art of burlesque, specifically in Russia.

Let it also be known that I am first and foremost a benevolent force, and every single criticism is documented solely for the purpose of evolution, growth and inspiration, darling.

Never forget - it is fantastic that the burlesque scene in Russia has grown so much in the last few years. Brava, ladies! As a fact and a statement, it is absolutely fabulous.

However, I volunteer to wear the heavy crown of expertise, having seen many a show in many a place, and having a keen eye for detail and a heart hungry for that wow factor. I always come with an open heart, am quite easily entertained, and know how hard the craft is - I can overlook many a fault when there’s stage presence, charisma and that fire of passion. Oh, and self-irony.

 All is sickly without self-irony.

Without further ado, onto our beautiful first show!

“Ladies of Burlesque” is the creation of Anja Pavlova, a shining star on the Berlin scene who descends into Moscow in attempt to elevate the world of Russian Burlesque.

The Venue

Quite splendid. Conveniently located minutes away from Taganskaya metro station, Dorfman karaoke drowns in luxury (it is painfully evident in the ludicrous lavatories). An atmosphere of glamour is immediately created - the view is good from all seats, the stage is well-located, the lights are a bit mad, but tolerable.

It is absurd for a Muscovite to complain about the price of anything, but the money demanded for the simplest things is aggressively silly.

The Wait

The producer of the show, who chose the somewhat childish moniker Konfetki, was at the door, checking the lists and being wonderful. She is delightful, but good God, please dress her better. The ensemble she chose did not fit the venue nor the atmosphere. She is gorgeous - let her outfit be gorgeous, too!

The magnificent lady selling pasties was exactly that - magnificent.

 I wish there was a lady like that everywhere I went.

The Performers

Anja Pavlova is undoubtedly a ray of jazzy 20’s sunshine. “This is the show of my dreams”, she announces, and you can tell it’s true - she is simply glowing. She clearly knows what she’s doing and she loves it completely. However, at times her beaming adoration for the performers seemed over the top - especially when her words were far from the truth.

When one thinks of a chorus line, the mind is immediately alight with synchronised wonders, radiant smiles & fascinating costumes. That is how Anja introduced the Ladies of Burlesque Chorus Line.

But oh boy, it was a spectacle for all the wrong reasons. The costumes do not flatter the ladies at all and look quite sloppy. They were saved by the gorgeous headpieces and smiles, but the moves…seemed incredibly random. Rare moments of synced movements provided some sense of relief, but over all, for chorus line dancers, they have an abominable sense of rhythm and don’t dance that well. The girls seem very nice, but don’t have the oomph & electricity to really capture the audience. Also, they left in what seemed to be an embarrassed hurry. Never!

Also, you’re doing a burlesque show & you’re not cinched? Girl, bye.

As a wise professor used to say, “It’s not about the size, it’s about the line”. Take care of that silhouette, mademoiselle!

Then came the singer, Marie Weinberg. If only she was as good as our charming host promised…remarkably, her stage presence was close to nil. Both of the dresses were gorgeous, but she should’ve worn the green one first - the black & diamanté ensemble should’ve been saved for dessert.

The choice of songs was excellent, but she did nothing with them. Her version of “Oops I Did It Again” was surprisingly charmless. One mustn’t even do much to make it a hit, it’s all there - the dramaturgy, the humour, the irony, but somehow she managed to make it gloriously bland.

I was bored! At a Burlesque show! Nonsense.

Does she have a good voice? Yes.  

Does she sing well? Yes.

Is she entertaining? No.

Does she know what do with an audience? No.

Do I want to see her again? No.

On to the deshabillants!

In general, I want to say that most of the acts were extremely similar. I know, I know, this is Burlesque, the main mechanism is quite predictable - but it seemed like 90% had a version of a wrap-around dress with pretty much the final look underneath. It is so fun to play with expectation in this genre, and somehow most of the performers completely overlooked this opportunity. However, this is only the beginning. Everyone started somewhere!

Ellisha Fox, I salute you. I can’t even imagine the amount of raised eyebrows and hurt pseudo-masculine egos you had to encounter on your path. His style is reminiscent of glorious anime characters, his moves are impressive, and those heels!! Those heels!!!! Good Lord, he’s a superhero!!

However, a pinch of self-irony would not ago astray. Perhaps, for a future act. I’d recommend taking a leaf out of Jett Adore’s book - specifically the Zorro act with which he travelled all over the world as part of Dita’s show.

Still, Ellisha had one of the best acts of the evening, Bravo!

If we were to speak about lack of self-irony, Tamasina Beansun is the queen of it. Her acts have excellent ideas - the Eve one she showed at last years’ Moscow Burlesque Festival, or the Little Red Riding Hood she presented this time - but her performances are so self-absorbed, at times one feels like he’s the third wheel. Like a party for one that you somehow found yourself in. And sure, it can be a style choice, but it’s not working. Sometimes it simply becomes vulgar. And it’s not a question of confidence, for it is always felt.

This is not the case. Simply put, she does not need the audience. Her self-indulgence feeds every appetite that she herself has.

Her Siberian Prime ally, Katerina Sahara, is an exact opposite. She loves the audience and it shows. Her acts range from witty & ironic (The Bunny), to majestic & mesmerising (the newest addition, The Dragon). Her moves are hypnotising, she always looks impeccable. She knows her worth and yet is the first one to laugh at herself. I must admit, her Dragon act amazed me. It was so well thought through, so gorgeous, utterly hypnotising. I often use her Bunny act as an example of brilliant Russian Burlesque. Can’t wait to see what she does next.

The Stage Kitten, our charming engineer, was quite good. I do wish she had a bigger moment though, you know, the moment. Also, perhaps it would be wiser to opt for a pair of more comfortable heels - the chance of a fall loomed over her in a quite a terrifying way.

Jeva Noir. I was particularly excited to see her, as I remember how sad she was at last years’ Moscow Burlesque Festival, sharing that they didn’t include her in the programme. Well, I must admit I can see why.

Does the act have an idea? Oh yes.

Is she gorgeous? Absolutely.

Is the costume marvelous? Quite.

The music? Good.

But something just didn’t click. Nerves? Perhaps. Some of her moves seemed forced & mechanical. In Burlesque, every move has a meaning, a purpose, a storyline to unveil. Also, a better wig is strongly advised.

If it is not a wig, better hair care is strongly advised.

Radmila Rocky Zombie got somewhat lost amongst the midst of performers. I was looking forward to this voluptuous beauty, but didn’t really get much. Caravan is a fantastic song, and she definitely has the skills, but something just didn’t work. There was no “wow” moment. I have a strong desire to see her other acts, this one seemed quite bland.

Well, Anja Pavlova is a treasure and a wonder. Not many leading ladies can shift between MC & performer with such ease & elegance. Her performances are a time machine, she exudes excitement. It is a treat to watch her.

However, when she gushed over the “kinky Burlesque” of Blanche De Moscou as something wildly original, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was convincing herself. In an industry where Dark Burlesque & Fetish Burlesque are huge, kinky Burlesque isn’t novel at all. Not even a little bit. Also, what was kinky about her number? A small demonstration of a few rather tame objects? The mask in the end? The spilling of the milk on her dainty bosom?

Blanche is a true enthusiast and her entrance look for this act is jaw-dropping. But the transformation that takes place in this performance can be made bigger, better, bolder.

THE FINALE

The show has a signature atmosphere of luscious elegance. It may not be thoroughly consistent, but it’s very clear that Pavlova knows what she wants and is working to fully fulfil her dreamy fantasy.

Perhaps if she were more strict and demanding, the results would be even more fabulous.

✶✶✶✶

[hah-studios]

Pleasant Company

A snippet of an old story I had written. I have always been a nut for fantasy and dragons so I’d thought I’d show off some of my original writing.

Lyra wondered if this wouldn’t be happening if she had been a more obedient servant, less talkative and independent. Maybe then they’d be feeding some other servant girl to the dragon.

           But being fed to a fire-breathing beast wasn’t the first unfortunate thing that had ever happened to her. The first real tragedy she ever faced was when she was seven, a little rebellious child with messy red hair who quite suddenly lost her father. Her mother had died giving birth to her so she was raised by her older brother Alfric, and their father who also happened to be the mayor. Despite never knowing her mother those seven years had been the best of Lyra’s life, while the other children in the village of Nor had to work and do chores, she and her brother learned to read and write and be pampered by the mayor’s servants. She had had no idea that these people only took care of her for the money, but the day her father died and his subordinate Thriggers, took the position as mayor she soon learned. The bloated man turned her and her brother into his indentured servants, telling them they’d have to work off all the money they cost being children who had to be fed and taken care of. Alfric constantly told her Thriggers was a liar whenever they were alone, but Lyra didn’t need to be told, she knew, she understand the world was incredibly cruel. But as she spent the next nine years milking cows, chopping wood, washing clothes and whatever else she was told to do she was still thankful, as least she still had Alfric, her only friend and family. The village people had locked him in a cellar to keep him from trying to rescue her and ruin the sacrifice.

The dragon had started terrorizing the village about a month ago, Lyra had been helping tending to the fields when a sudden shadow blocked out the sun, she heard screaming and looked up in time to see wings and claws before the beast lunged down and swiped up two of the village’s sheep and leaving a trail of fire in the wheat. The creature continued to pay them visits, stealing livestock and burning either their fields or a building, so far no one had been killed or seriously injured by Thriggers continually said it was only a matter of time. After a month Thriggers’ friend Brock, the slimy advisor Alfric always told Lyra to stay away from came up with a “brilliant plan”. People who were pestered by dragons always solved the problem with a maiden sacrifice.

Naturally Thriggers’ spoiled daughters were out of question, and all the other girls whose family flattered Thriggers, which led to the servants. And he decided on the one who didn’t call him mayor, who dared to look him in the eye and tell him she couldn’t cook an entire pig in a matter of seconds no matter how hungry he was, the servant who was the daughter of the man he had longed to replace.

Of course Lyra had put up a good fight at first, until Alfric tried to save her and got a nasty blow to the head by one of the larger farmers. Frightened for her brother she said she’d go with no qualms if they just left her brother alone. They agreed to it quite easily, Alfric was a strong young man and a good hunter; he was much more useful than his sister in their eyes. So they locked him in the cellar, tied Lyra on a stake and were now carrying the stake to the mountainous terrain where they knew the dragon resided. Lyra thought of how cowardly the men in the Nor village were, instead of coming together and simply slaying the dragon they’d rather sacrifice a young girl on the off chance the dragon would leave them alone.

Something told Lyra the dragon wouldn’t be that flattered by the gift, but as long as this kept Alfric safe, at least for a little while, it was worth it.

Hopefully I’ll fill the beast up for a few days and Alfric can just escape, he had always talked about leaving when I was strong enough.

           Finally reaching the designated spot they stuck the stake into a clump of dirt to hold Lyra upright, her eyes scanned the clouds and rocks but there was no sign of the dragon.

“You remember your promise,” she called to them as the men quickly left, “You don’t hurt my brother!”

But the men were already gone and Lyra was there alone, waiting quietly for death. She felt a little pride for taking this so well, though she had never expected she’d die a human sacrifice. Wanting to distract herself from the inevitable and how terrible Nor was she thought back to when her father was alive, to when her life was happy. Her father always held her and Alfric in his lap when he wasn’t working, telling them stories about the land of Espar where Nor was just one of the millions of villages on the great continent. There were really large villages called cities, and even places called kingdoms where kings and queens lived. There were also other creatures besides humans in Espar, elves, dwarves, griffins, dragons and more, (though he had said dragons had vanished to their kingdom and hadn’t been seen in years, Lyra almost wished she could tell him wrong). She had always desired to leave Nor, even when her life was good, to go and explore and meet all these incredible creatures. But she’d die just meeting one.

           The sudden sound of wings made her heart nearly stop, the fear she had kept subdued rising in her throat making her unable to breath. She closed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the dragon. Was it hovered over her right now? Would it snap her up without a sound? Would it burn her first before swallowing her whole? Her father had said they could talk to other creatures, would it mock her fear before ending her?

She heard the heavy thud as the dragon landed and heard its claws scraping against the rock. Tears started to leak from her close eye-lids, she wished she had had a chance to tell Alfric how much she loved him, she wished the stupid dragon would just hurry and get it over with.

Suddenly Lyra fell to the ground as the rope tying her to the stake was cut; she opened her eyes in shock, for half a second wondering if some dashing prince had come to save her like in the stories.

But no, before her was the dragon, it’s scales were a dark gold, its amber eyes stared down at her, the horns decorated its jaw and behind its ears giving it a threatening appearance, its mouth was barely an inch from her. As it slowly opening its jaws, revealing rows of sharp teeth she covered her head and waited for death.

“Are you a human or a hedgehog?”

Lyra’s eyes popped open at the unexpected question, where had that rumbling voice come from? She dared to peek through frizzy strands of hair to see the terrifying beast still leering over her uncomfortably close. But it made no move to attack her.

Instead it stared at her quizzically, curiously, she realized its eyes were green with hints of amber, and its scales were a deep gold that was actually quite beautiful.

Feeling slightly braver with the dragon simply watching her she sat up, her muscles still tensed, ready to jump and run. But she had to wonder… “What did you say?”

The dragon’s ears pulled back against its skull and for a moment Lyra feared it was a hostile action, but then it turned its face away and appeared to be…nervous?

Then her eyes bulged when the dragon opened its mouth and spoke, “It-it’s a joke. Because your hair…it’s all curly and tangled, it reminds me of a hedgehog. I haven’t seen one of them in these mountains yet but I saw pictures in our scrolls so…” He trailed off awkwardly.

Lyra couldn’t think of anything to say, not only was this dragon not eating her but it was making a joke, it was the last thing she had expected and it made no sense from what she’d been told as a child listening to old tales about the dragons.

The dragon seemed to be uncomfortable with the awkward silence, moving away it stood up and shuffled its feet much like a human would do. It only made Lyra even more confused.

           “I am Hylvan,” the dragon finally spoke, turning his eyes on her, now that he talked and introduced himself Lyra suspected she might as well call him a male which he clearly was.

But that didn’t mean she’d treat him like a friend. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

This Hylvan looked shocked at such a thought, “Why in the name of Dragonale would I do that? What have you done to deserve me slicing you open?”

She swallowed, at least she knew his choice method; she gave his long dark talons a wary glance, “Because…you’re a dragon.”

“Yes,” Hylvan said, like it didn’t answer any question, “And you’re a human female who looks to be half-hedgehog.” He bared his long white fangs in what could have been a grin then made a sound that could have been a snicker.

Lyra gave the dragon an exasperated look; he truly was the farthest thing she had expected even a good dragon to be like. “I am your maiden sacrifice,” she replied, “You were supposed to eat me and leave Nor in peace.”

Hylvan scrunched his long muzzle at her, giving her a look between pity and disbelief, “Why would I do that?”

“Because that’s what dragons’ do-” she began but was cut off when he waved his long, rather strong looking tail.

“No, I mean why would I leave Nor alone after having you as a sacrifice? I assume you’re talking about my stealing your livestock, I am sorry about that but I must eat. But, honestly, why would having you as a sacrifice stop me from doing that?”

Lyra opened her mouth to answer, and then realized she didn’t have a good reply. “Um…because you would be overwhelmed by gratitude and would want to show such by leaving the village alone,” she offered awkwardly.

Hylvan threw his head back and made a harsh, vibrating sound that made Lyra’s bones rattle, and cover her ears, she assumed he was laughing.

“That is ridiculous,” he finally said, still chuckling, “I’m sorry, miss. But even if I was grateful for them giving you to me, the fact is as a living sentient creature I need to eat. While I’m not saying you wouldn’t be tasty, the fact is you’re awfully gangly and skinny, you wouldn’t be a mouthful. So even if I did eat you I would still be hungry and therefore go and find more satisfying, fatter food. And even if this Nor gave me their fattest villager I would still be hungry eventually no matter what.”

He laughed again and shook his head, “You humans and your eccentricities.”

Lyra blinked, feeling slightly like an idiot for thinking she would be saving her brother from starvation or dragon fire via this idea. But she also couldn’t help a wave of relief that made her shoulders droop. “So, you won’t eat me?”

Hylvan shook his head, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Thank you,” she replied humbly. She would live…she would live…

           “Well, now that that rather awkward misunderstanding is behind us, may I ask the fair lady’s name?”

Hylvan laid down before her, making himself comfortable and Lyra allowed a small smile to grace her lips, now that the threat of being digested was gone she thought Hylvan to be a charming dragon, albeit a slightly scatter-brained one.

“My name is Lyra Giltbrook,” she answered.

“That’s a pretty name,” he said politely, resting his head on his crossed forelegs. “If you don’t mind more questions Miss Lyra… Why were they sacrificing you?”

She furrowed her brow in confusion, “I told you, because you were eating the livestock.”

“But why you specifically,” he explained, “Was it the luck of a draw? Did you volunteer?”

She cast her eyes downward and shook her head, “No, it wasn’t a luck of a draw and I didn’t volunteer. I was chosen.”

“Why,” Hylvan asked quietly.

“Because the only person in that village whose ever truly loved me was my brother,” she couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone, “Even my old nursemaid shunned me after my father, who was mayor, died and that awful Thriggers came to power.”

“What happened to you and your brother then?”

“We became servants, having to do whatever we were told, even had to do the work of some of the lazier servants. Apparently my father was more hated than the village let on and chose to make his children suffer.” Lyra had no idea why she was telling a dragon her life story, but she realized that she needed to get it out. She needed to tell someone.

“That is truly awful,” Hylvan murmured with sympathy, “Did your mother do nothing?”

“Oh, she died when I was born,” Lyra said, turning away, “It was a long time ago.”

She started when she felt Hylvan’s heavy claws on her lap but then realized it was supposed to be a comforting gesture. For some reason it drove her to tears and she clutched the claw between her hands, so happy to find a kind soul that wasn’t her brother, so happy to have told her story to someone who would offer his sympathy.

           “You’ve truly had a hard life, Miss Lyra,” Hylvan breathed pityingly, “I’m sorry.”

She wiped her tears away and smiled at the dragon, “I’m sorry too, here I was expecting the worst and you are the kindest soul I’ve met in a long, long time.”

Hylvan pulled his scaly lips back in a dragonish smile, “I just haven’t had the pleasure of company in a while.”

She tilted her head, “Why’s that? Don’t you have friends and family?”

Hylvan flinched at those words and pulled away, standing up and walking a few paces away, “No, no I don’t.”

A wave of guilt instantly crushed her, “I-I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything!”

He turned his broad head to look down at her, his green eyes twinkling with assurance, “It’s fine, you were more than willingly to tell me your story…however, I am not ready to share my own.”

“That’s fine,” she quickly replied, “You don’t have to.”

Hylvan gave her a look of gratitude before lifting his snout up and surveying the sky that Lyra only now realized was getting darker, the villagers had waited before bringing her here.

“It will be night soon,” he said then turned back to her, his ears perked as he gave her a curious look. “What are you plans?”

“My plans,” she echoed in confusion.

“Since I’m not going to eat you, will you return to your brother? Or perhaps go and find a new home elsewhere?”

Lyra stood up, dusting off her faded blue dress before turning to look where the villagers had vanished, a part of her longed to go back to her brother, to assure him she was alive and well. But another part feared what the village would do if she came back, would they try again? Would they chance using her brother as a sacrifice instead despite him not being a maiden, despite he was more useful than her? Perhaps she should leave to start a new life; perhaps she could go to the capital city, Lorus. Alfric had spoken of going there, they could sneak away together and not have to worry about Thriggers, or Brock, or Nor ever again.

           Hylvan’s voice, now at a much quieter volume, broke her from her thoughts, “You’re free to spend the night with me if you wish.”

She turned to him in surprise only to see him looking anywhere but at her, he looked, dare she say it, downright bashful and it brought a smile to her lips. “Is that alright? Spending the night with you? I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

Hylvan’s ears perked up merrily at her words and he lifted his head, “Of course! I told you before I hadn’t had the pleasure of company in a long time. You can stay as long as you wish.”

Her smile grew brighter and she nodded, “Then I accept your invitation. Where do you sleep?”

With his tail the dragon pointed upward, her eyes following Lyra spotted the hole of a cave in the large rocky mountain. She gulped; there was no way she could climb that.

Hylvan must have read her thoughts, stepping forward he extended a foreleg to her, palm up, “I can carry you.”

She looked at his claws warily, she realized it wasn’t fear of the dragon hurting her that made her hesitate, rather her fear of being up so high.  But Hylvan looked at her with such earnestness with a mixture of the shyness she had seen earlier. This great fire-breathing beast that stole sheep only wanted a friend, someone to talk to, he wanted the same thing Lyra had wanted for a long time.

           Steeling herself she nodded and Hylvan picked her up, holding her to his chest. She immediately grasped at the smooth, tan scales of his chest and held her breath as her heart started thumping.

With one flap of his wings Hylvan was airborne and Lyra left her stomach on the ground as he quickly ascended and arrived at the entrance of his cave in almost no time. But despite the quick trip Lyra’s legs still wobbled as he placed her down and lead her inside. She followed after; not wanting to be left on the precarious ledge, inside the cave was warm and dim. She noticed a small pool of water, secluded in a corner, continuing deeper into the cave she saw a pile of bones and swallowed, despite herself she checked for a human skull or two, but to her relief there were only those of cows and sheep.

           At the back of the cave Hylvan had made a large bed of what looked to be uncomfortable rocks, but lying next to the pile was a heap of sheep wool.

“Sheep’s wool is pleasant to the touch,” Hylvan explained, catching her looking at the heap. He was sitting beside her, apparently anxious to see how she liked his home.

“Then why don’t you use it for your own bed,” she asked curiously.

Hylvan wrinkled his nose, “On a humid day rain is pleasant too, doesn’t mean I want to sleep underwater.”

She chuckled at the dragon’s logic, “Yes, I suppose your right. This cave is cozy, did you build it?”

Hylvan shook his head and walked over to a secluded corner, “I found it; I imagine it was another dragon’s home years ago but he’s long gone now.”

Lyra vaguely recalled a village elder mentioning that Hylvan wasn’t the first dragon to ever terrorize Nor.

Hylvan returned with a crisply burnt animal hanging from his jaws and Lyra recognized it as one of the sheep that had been taken a few days ago.

“Are you hungry,” the dragon asked around the mouthful of meat.

Lyra nodded, “Yes, I’m famished actually.”

           Hylvan placed the sheep down and started to carve it into pieces, “Didn’t they feed you in that village?”

“Yes,” Lyra replied, eagerly taking a piece of roasted sheep and taking a bite, it was a bit charred but to her it tasted heavenly, “But only the rich could feast on whole animal, servants were just giving small offerings.”

“No one starved at my home,” Hylvan said as he too started chewing on his own piece of meat, “Groups of us went out and collected livestock to return home, true the ones of higher rank had first pick but we always made sure no one was without.”

Lyra had started listening with baited breath as soon as Hylvan had uttered “home” she was starving to hear more about dragons and their homes. But Hylvan apparently had noticed he had started talking about his home, and didn’t continue, instead changing the topic. “Do you think you will go back for your brother? I personally don’t think you should go back and live in that village but perhaps you and your brother could go somewhere new?”

Lyra stared down at her piece of meat, “Alfric and I had always talked about leaving the village, of going to Lorus and finding jobs, of making our own lives… But I don’t think that’ll happen.”

“…You two could stay with me,” Hylvan offered quietly.

Lyra smiled gratefully at him, “That’s not what I meant. I mean maybe it’s best if he thinks I’m dead. Then there’ll be nothing tethering him to Nor; he can go and have the life he deserves.”

“Do you really find yourself such a burden,” Hylvan asked, starting to chew on a bone.

Lyra didn’t answer.

           After they had finished their meal Lyra asked, “How did you find this place, Hylvan?”

The dragon had been busy breathing fire over his rock bed to warm it; he turned to her when she asked this, smoke rising from his nostrils.

“How did you find this cave,” she prompted.

“It was actually the strangest thing,” he said, sitting up and his eyes cast upward in memory, “There was something…some kind of feeling. That told me I needed to come here, I couldn’t ignore it. And I still feel it, it’s almost as if…there’s something here. Something I need to find.”

“I often got the same feeling from this mountain,” she admitted, looking around the cave as if the answer to the strange feeling was hiding in the cracks of the walls.

Hylvan pulled his scaly lips back in a smile, “That I’m not crazy, I’m glad.” A sudden yawn overtook the dragon as he stretched his large jaws wide; revealing his sharp, white teeth and a pink, forked tongue.

“I think it’s time to turn in,” he decided, “I’ve heard that you humans like to sleep on soft things, feel free to make a bed of the wool.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully, walking over and fixing herself a spot as Hylvan used his tail to sweep the remains of their meal into his bone pile.

“If you need anything please ask,” Hylvan replied as he started to turn circles around his bed of heated rocks, reminding Lyra of a dog. “You can drink from the pool if you get thirsty.”

“Yes, thank you,” Lyra said, curling up into the wool that was warm from being so close to Hylvan’s own bed. “You’ve been very kind.”

“It was no trouble,” Hylvan replied, his voice bashful. “Good night Miss Lyra.”

“Just Lyra,” she replied.

“Alright, goodnight Just Lyra,” the dragon chortled in his rumbling way.

She chuckled, “Good night to you too, Hylvan. Sweet dreams.”

She heard the rocks shift as the dragon finally lay down with a huff, after a few minutes she heard the rumbling sound of his snoring and she smiled to herself as her eyes grew heavy, Hylvan truly was nothing like she expected.

[j-kaiwa]

Discussion Article September 10th

RELATIONSHIPS; A FAVOR CAN CARRY A PRICE

IT can all start with the fatal question, ''Could you do this one favor for me?'' With that, and whatever response it engenders, begins the interpersonal maneuvering, the power plays, the jockeying over who owes what to whom.

''The word 'favor' implies there's no cost, but that's not so,'' said Frederick H. Kanfer, a psychology professor. ''Asking for and doing favors sometimes signals cooperation. More often, it is an unwritten social contract setting up a power relationship.''

According to Dr. Kanfer, who is also director of clinical training in psychology at the University of Illinois at Champaign, we may ask someone a favor to make that person feel good - saying, in effect, ''I need you.'' We may be enlisting help in avoiding a decision. Or we may be trying to flatter the other person. At the same time, he said, asking a favor ''reduces our control over ourselves, because we may feel indebted.''

Whether we do a favor or not can be fraught with similar subtleties: Do we want someone in our debt? What if he or she doesn't reciprocate? Performing the favor can be inconvenient. And it could yield the wrong results - what some have dubbed the well-intentioned road to perdition. Take, for example, the friend who was asked to buy a T-bone steak, but got a sirloin instead because the butcher had no T-bones. Were thanks offered for an ingenious rescue? No. The purchase was coldly received. So why do favors? ''People generally like to be helpful,'' said Robert D. Caplan, a research psychologist at the University of Michigan Institute for Social Research. ''We also like to appear knowledgeable and competent. And by doing favors, we exercise control over others.''

''Moreover, the cost of not doing a favor is high,'' said Michael J. White, a social psychologist at Ball State University in Muncie, Ind. ''It disrupts our smooth interaction. Here we have asked someone we thought would say 'yes,' and they disconfirm our theory about our relationship by saying 'no.' ''

Favor giving has its limits, however. ''Several psychologists have theorized that people have a great sensitivity to what is fair and equitable,'' Dr. White said, ''which may be why a lot of us become annoyed when other people do us too many favors. Perhaps we sense they are trying to control us.''

''Years ago when I was pregnant, we had a neighbor who, unasked, picked up our children at school and prepared meals for us,'' said Margaret J. Rumford, a librarian at the Fairfield (Conn.) Country Day School. ''Initially, I felt grateful. Then I got annoyed, because she wouldn't let me do anything for her.'' Only later could she rationalize the incident, thinking, ''This woman did things for me but clearly didn't need me doing for her, which left me free to do for someone else.''

Unrecognized favors can be equally frustrating. ''Let's say you do me lots of favors,'' Dr. White said, ''and, though you don't ask me, I paint the garage for you. But if you don't recognize my effort as a favor, the balance still is not restored.''

Favors with explicit ''give backs'' are unpopular, too. ''There are certain types of people who simply have to point out that since they're doing you a favor, you owe them,'' said Susan Handman, a production coordinator at McCaffery & McCall, an advertising agency in Manhattan. ''They're giving you no option about responding. Maybe that's one reason why I don't ask for many favors.''

Does she do favors? ''Yes, although I feel free to say no, with an explanation to soften the blow,'' she said.

Psychologists suggest that we explain refusals in part because it reassures the other person that the relationship is sound: the only reason for not performing the service is that there was a prior commitment. Perhaps that is why Miss Handman finds saying no, without explanation, comparatively easy when the person asking is her husband.

''I can say, 'No, I don't want to go out and get you some milk,' and he will understand that I still love him,'' she said. ''Of course, he may not accept it, in which case he'll whine about how hungry he is.''

What does she do? ''I hit him with a pillow or whine even louder about how tired I am and how I don't want to go alone. Then we both end up going out for milk - a mutual favor.''

[rippermartyrstefan-blog]

No Devils Left in Hell (7)

Niklaus stared at the angel's sleeping form. She slept noiselessly, so quietly that she looked at peace for the first time since she had become his captive. Something a little like regret, for all the pain he had put her through, formed in his chest, as cold and sharp and easily broken as ice. He hated her ability to make him feel long forgotten emotions, almost as much as he'd come to treasure it. It seemed her silence in sleep made him uncomfortable. At least when she was awake and fighting, he too could be equally obstinate and defiant to her. It was much easier that way. But some part of him couldn't bring himself to wake her, to deliver the bombshell he'd devised in so self-congratulatory a manner. It would only serve to make her hate him more. And yet, it would further his plans and so his choice was clear. It had to be done."Caroline," he called, in a soft tone, walking towards her bed. 12:38 PM

Caroline joined the chat 12:40 PM

Caroline Perhaps it was a part of her being an angel, but once she fell into sleep it was always peaceful. No thoughts of Niklaus, or being stuck in this hell, but just an emptiness. Normally loneliness and emptiness was not something to strive for, but given her predicament...it was all she could hope for. And she was cruelly being ripped from that salvation with a whisper from the man who had dragged her here. Caroline stirs slightly, pulling the blanket over her scantily clad body and peering out. She meets his eyes, and for a second its a different time. Perhaps in another life, if he was not a demon and she was not an angel, their loneliness could bring them together. But not in this situation. "Not yet." She whispers, pulling the blanket over her head childishly. 12:46 PM

Niklaus let out a small laugh at her soft reply. Perhaps part of what he liked so much about her was her youth. She was so different from anyone he knew, full of life in a way that had long been drained out of Niklaus himself. He gently pulled on the blanket in her hands, moving one hand to cradle her cheek. "I'm afraid I must. I'm terribly lonely without you, you see. And terribly bored." 12:59 PM

Caroline For a moment she's flattered, and then she remembers who he is. What he's done to her. Her face moves down into a frown, trying to pull at the blankets again. No way was she allowing him to see her like this. In this thing. She quickly pushes away his hand trying to distance herself from him. "Go find some other toy, then. Yesterday-and every day being with you is exhausting. I need my rest." Time to fire out cruel words again. It's what they were best at, right? 1:02 PM

Niklaus "As if you don't know that you're my favourite toy. No one else compares to you, love," he grinned at her, trying to recover his typical arrogance. It was practically his coat of armour when speaking with her. "Besides, what you need is breakfast. I have an Earth delicacy for you. Pancakes. Doesn't that sound tasty? I didn't even kill anyone for them." 1:20 PM

Caroline "And you just admitted I'm a toy. Fantastic, Niklaus." She hisses, sitting up in the bed. Around him she felt as if she had to be on her toes at every moment, trying to keep up with him. Making sure he didn't completely tumble her down, overpower her. At the mention of pancakes she feels her mouth practically salivating, having not eaten something for quite some time. She tries to brush it off, her hand splaying over the blanket. "I uh...I have to get changed. Could you leave so I can see if there's something semi decent in this closet?" 1:24 PM

Niklaus "Oh, come on, you said it first. I was only repeating your word. In reality you're much more important than that." He eyed her a little longingly, her skin pale and soft-looking. More than anything, he wanted to stay right there, with her. Niklaus sighed heavily, "Fine, fine, I'll be at the kitchen. Best hurry, or I'll eat your share." 1:36 PM

Caroline "I don't care how important I am to you. Because you know the only reasons I'm not running." That she cared for Stefan and was protecting him, and that she was stuck because of the blood running through her system. Thankfully, he gave in easily, disappearing from her room. She quickly got up, walking towards the dresser. There were some relatively normal clothes, and with that she reached for a pair of jeans and a slim-fitting black shirt. If only she could get a shower in, but with his words of food she glides down the stairs and towards the kitchen, instantly seeing Niklaus. "I'd like mine with peanut butter and maple syrup." She insists, making her way over to the table. 1:42 PM

Niklaus "Oh, so you'd rather die, is that it? I think that's another lie, Caroline. You want far too much out of life for that. You're not staying for Stefan. You're staying for your own sake." He waited for her, in the kitchen, impatiently. When she finally walked in, he was disappointed with her choice of the more plain clothes provided for her, but impressed with her tone of command. "Ah, so you're in the mood to be in charge today. As you wish. Though that sounds rather disgusting, it's yours . Of course, I'm hardly going to serve it to you on a platter, love." he said, nodding to the cupboard and indicating that she could either get her own or order one of the servants to do it for her. He didn't often eat human food but had stocked up on it once Caroline had indicated her preference for the world. "Now, we must discuss the deal we've made. I confess, I think you very unwise. Isn't there some human saying about deals with the devil? And here you took it so literally." 2:04 PM

Caroline She could see the disappointment on his face, and grinned. At least she wasn't dressed up as a freaking walking barbie doll again. She wasn't surprised by his words, and quickly went over to the cupboard he had indicated. "I'm not in the mood to be in charge. And it's delicious. Perhaps you just don't enjoy human food as much as I do." Of course, he didn't enjoy any of the human life as much as she did, that much was obvious. She quickly grabs the peanut butter, but at his words stops preparing her food. After what he has to say, she's pretty sure she won't be hungry anymore. "Can we go five seconds without having to discuss things? Without fighting? I just want my pancakes." She sounds like she is whining, but she doesn't want to know the awful things he's going to make her do. 2:12 PM

Niklaus She does, however, look exceptionally good in black. He didn't think for a instance that she chose the colour on purpose but it does have a delightful symbolic appeal. He'd dressed her in white, after all. Of course, colours meant nothing, not really. The only important they had was what fools gave them. But still, it was rather amusing. "I thought you'd like them. That's why I got them," he said, sincerely for once. "I hoped to make you happy. Even if briefly and for something so small. So, yes, I suppose we can have five seconds. Perhaps a little bit more time than that, for I have no desire to see you scoff them down in an uncivil manner." 2:52 PM

Niklaus joined the chat 2:55 PM

Caroline What was going on? He so quickly relented to her, allowing her her time to eat the pancakes, and even with some kind, sincere words. Caroline turns on her heels, looking up at him. "You...don't say things like that. My happiness is on the bottom of your list." That's what she had to tell herself, at least. If she saw the good in him...it would be a lot harder to be cold. She had always given people a chance, but she couldn't even allow herself to do that for a moment. "Oh right, I'm still the glowing angel you took from heaven. God forbid you see me act like anything less than that." It's not like she could even fight him on that, however. Her gracefulness came as a part of her. She delicately began to lay two pancakes out on her plate, walking over to the fridge and bending down to grab some milk. 3:04 PM

Niklaus "Do you really think that low of me?" he widened his eyes, sitting beside her and stealing a bite of her pancakes, scrunching up his face in distaste as the odd flavour hit. "I do value your happiness. I'm simply playing a long game and banking on you being happy eventually, if not now." It was a strange scene for him, early morning breakfast, sitting quietly with another. "Don't flatter yourself. It's nothing to do with you and how 'perfect' you are. I just don't like seeing untidy eating. It's a bit disgusting, no?" 3:18 PM

Caroline "No you're not. What comes first is what you want, this big goal you have, and you just pray I won't loathe you forever because of it." She whispers, rolling her eyes as he steals a bit of her pancake. She quickly places some peanut butter and maple syrup on it, taking a bite with her fork. She closes her eyes for a moment, relishing in the taste. For a few seconds, when she ate human food, she could imagine being one of them. Having the freedom to do whatever you want. "You're very particular, aren't you? Everything has to be a certain way." 3:26 PM

Niklaus She knew him startlingly well by now, which he wasn't sure he appreciated. And then there was her unflinching tendency to always call him out on it. No, Caroline would not take his empty gestures or empty words. "Actually, I don't pray at all. That's much more your territory, angel. I just have faith in myself and what I can do. And I will make you happy, I swear it." He couldn't resist the idea of proving her wrong, of accomplishing everything he wanted and having her as well. "It's called eternity, love. You get very sick of the foolishness of others. One day you'll want things all your own way, too." 4:12 PM

Caroline "You shouldn't promise things you have no control over." She mumbles, taking another bite of her food. At least he hadn't fought her on her words. It seemed he would always be number one, something she just wasn't used to. Stefan had been the one who came before everything, and even before that it had been others. Perhaps that was just her personality. "I don't think I will. I have an acceptance for others you do not seem to possess. It just shows how fundamentally different we are." 4:20 PM

Niklaus "You aren't listening. I always have control, because I choose not to rely on anyone other than myself." Somehow, he knew that everything he said only made her dislike him more and yet, he couldn't stop. But that was such a part of who he was; unwilling to compromise for anything or anyone. He wouldn't pretend. "You don't seem to have an acceptance for me or for any of my... friends. Well, except Stefan, naturally. You'll willing to overlook your morals for him." 4:52 PM

Caroline "And yet...you can't control me. How much does that drive you insane? That I won't just bend to what you want like the rest of the world. It must be torture for you, like some bug on your skin that you can't see. Because despite your threats, despite the blood you fed me, the harsh words, I stand up to you every chance I can." She finds herself smiling during her gloating, proud of that fact. "What is that supposed to mean?" She hisses, pushing her plate away from herself. So much for pretending to be human. "I know he's good...and even if he's falling, I care for him. It's a simple fact, Niklaus. I'm sorry you're too jealous to realize that." 4:59 PM

Niklaus "Caroline, Caroline, Caroline." Her words had rankled, and for a moment he'd worried he'd let his calm drop and fly into a rage at her but he'd managed to keep it under control, and that was because of one simple fact. "Pride is a sin, you know. I'd be careful, if I were you. Gloating of your own prowess like that." Still, what she had said was the truth, no matter how unwilling he was to admit it. "You know exactly what it means," he hissed, "Stefan is every bit the monster you say I am, and you love him for it, yet condemn and despise me. So much for morality." 5:13 PM

Caroline "You're turning it back on me again. You know, I think I have the upper hand in this. Having your blood...it makes me see parts of you you don't want anyone to see. Perhaps you never thought I'd be an opponent in this war, but I know you. So maybe you should stop treating me like your little toy before I begin pointing out your every little flaw. Before I ruin this whole plan you have." She could do it, she knew. All it took was the right blocks tumbling down. "You should really stop comparing you and Stefan in the hopes that one day I'll see the same thing I see in him in you. You turned him into a monster. Before meeting you...before coming here none of that was in him. And despite the bad, he still has good. I saw it. So keep trying to convince me it doesn't exist, I don't care. I love him, that's all that matters. No fake kindness from you or balls where you try to show me off as yours will change what's in my heart." 5:20 PM

Niklaus He'd stood up, attempting to tower over her, though he knew there was little use to it. If only she had ever been so easily intimidated. "So it's come to this," he said, anger leaking into his voice, "Now my prisoner threatens me. You are certainly no ordinary angel, Caroline. It's a pity that you're so powerless. What can Innocence offer the world? The only thing Innocence ever is - is shattered. Broken. If you want to push me, I will push back. You know that I will. And the problem is that you care about so many things. So many more things than I do. I can't imagine it would be too difficult to hurt you. So yes, you see parts of me, flaws, that I wish you didn't. But I know your weaknesses, just as well." He glared at her, lost in his rage. She'd managed to set him off, at last, and he was never capable of holding back, not when he was like this. Harsh and impulsive and half-mad. "I see. In that case, you best hope that your love, and belief in dear Stefan's goodness sustains you when you're upholding your end of the bargain. Either that or dear, good Stefan goes the way of his many victims." 5:38 PM

Caroline She had taken it to far, clearly. He was trying to intimidate her, closing in as she hastily stood up and tried to put distance between them. This is a rage she has not seen before, one from a man who had truly felt threatened. "Perhaps I might be weak, fragile, but I have something else the rest of the world doesn't. I can stand up to the almighty Destruction, and render him virtually powerless. You might push back, but you want something so much more than mere revenge. You want me. You want me to feel for you, to want you the way you want me, so you'd never do something to jeopardize that." She had to bank on that, despite her not being entirely sure. "As far as my weaknesses go, of you knowing me...you know nothing but what you've fabricated up to make yourself think we are the perfect king and queen for hell. If you looked further than your delusional mind you'd see this isn't where I'm meant to be. I'm not meant to be yours." She was screaming at this point, and she felt as if her skin was boiling. Was it the blood causing her to lash out so much? Once he mentions the deal her eyes finally shift from his, her nerves getting the best of her. "Well then, spit out what the deal is, since you seem to want to threaten me with it." 5:52 PM

Niklaus Powerless. The word she'd used echoed around his head. It was something he'd never wanted to be, not again. And here she was, truthful in her claims. He wanted her, felt something for her - something that was more than need or lust and strong enough to overpower his hate. It frightened him, so terribly but still, the draw to be close to her was too much. He wouldn't let her put distance between them, immediately stepping forward, to where she was, listening to her yell and the depth of her hatred. "Oh, Caroline, you do see so much more of me than you want to, don't you? How does it feel to understand someone whom you hate so much? To know that as twisted and disgusting as you think I am, you get it, get the essence of who I am? You want to see what I know of you, and your want?" he almost spat, directly in her face, hands cupping her cheeks. Impulse was his nature, as was not denying himself what he wanted - and had he ever wanted anything more? He pressed his lips against hers, never having found softeness so enticing. But that wasn't enough and he kissed her harder, feeling her lips move against his. In anger, no doubt, as that was the way she always moved against him. And it made him feel sorrow, and regret, like in kissing her he'd stolen something she never would have given him, but that he would have longed for all their lives regardless. "It seems the perfect moment to tell you," he said, bitterly and reeling. "I even thought to sweeten the deal for you, to wrap it in an Earth custom, in hopes of making you happy.You, Caroline, will be my queen. But first we shall be joined together, so no one can doubt that I have Innocence by my side. You are to be my wife, dearest." 

[kaypablecs-blog]

Introduction: The beginning

 “Ngiyaxolisa bab’Mthethwa. Usesi shiyile uNokuthula Buzo”, the nurse explains to Mzwakhe. Mzwakhe could not believe his ears; having to face the reality of what has become of his reality is a different story all together. He could not face the doctor before him – tears hosted a gathering in his eyes as a very beautiful bi-racial nurse placed a three month old in his arms. This is a baby that his wife would never accept; what was he expected to do with this child? Take him to the Buzo family for them to raise and then he maintains the baby every month?

Mzwakhe sat down on the closest bench that was located in the passage-way of the ICU of the hospital. The baby in his arms cried – it was as if this baby could sense that something is not right with what has become of his and his father’s situation.

“Mr Mthethwa, we need you to please come and identify her body,” the bi-racial nurse politely says to Mzwakhe – trying to sound as nice as possible to this man holding a baby and not really sure what to do next in this position. Mzwakhe looks at the nurse in desperate cries, asks for a moment and the nurse obeys his request, leaving his sight with a tear racing down her face.

Mzwakhe mourned with the baby in his arms, crying as loud as the baby was crying, his soul desperately seeking for support.

A young and beautiful woman appears around the corner of the hospital and observes the scene before her. Something inside of her moves. She has flowers in her arms, evidently for whoever she has come to see in hospital. She walks towards Mzwakhe and lays her hand gently on his shoulder. Mzwakhe found comfort in the hand upon his shoulder – as if it were not the hand of a stranger. Mzwakhe looks up and sees her… beautiful, gentle, and comforting. Her smile is exactly what he needs at this moment as reassurance that everything will be okay. She wore the most flattering yellow maxi-dress that he had ever seen. Her thin twist braids were tied up into a ponytail. Her make-up was minimal. Her entire look was accessorised by her humility and genuine care.

“Sawubona. My name is Thobile”, she spoke.

All Mzwakhe could do was nod. Thobile was not sure what this nod meant but she did not feel discouraged by it.

“May I hold him for you?” She asks, pointing at the baby using her head. Mzwakhe handed the baby to Thobile. Thobile cradled the baby as if it were her own. As soon as she was able to calm down his crying, she sat next to Mzwakhe and put her right arm around his neck, pulling in his head so that he could cry on her chest. Mzwakhe let out an aggressive cry – it was loud and it went unnoticed. Everyone in the hospital stared at him. People who were hidden in wards came out to see this painful cry that absolutely no one could take away. Thobile just found herself soothing this man she did not even know, and holding his son who was now chewing on his little fist.

A nurse walks up to, what seems to be, the little family of three and says to Thobile, “Hi sisi. I am Sister Nhlengethwa. I need Mr Mthethwa to come and identify Miss Buzo’s body please. We are unable to trace any of her family members. I understand that he is traumatised, but it must be done.”

Before Thobi could even respond to the sister, Mzwakhe snapped at the nurse and said, “Why are you speaking about me as if I am not here? Have I not already told you that you must give me a moment and I will be there shortly? Please sister, do not annoy me. Give me space and take the audience with you!”

The nurse was shocked to say the least. Thobi stood up and pulled the nurse aside saying, “Sisi, he will be there shortly. Please allow him to have some privacy please”. The sister could not have been more relieved about Thobi’s presence. She nodded, a little more settled and left, clearing the passage filled with people along the way.

After the passage was clear, Thobi (with a baby cradled in her arms) kneels down between Mzwakhe’s legs and says, “Hi bhuti, I am Thobile. I don’t know what has happened but I truly am sorry. Please cooperate with the nurses and go identify your wife’s body. I will stay with the baby. I will quickly go and get him some formula from the Pick n Pay across the road. He seems hungry. I will be right back, I promise. I can give you my number and even send you a picture in case you think I might run away with your son. And –

“Thobile… it is Thobile right?” Mzwakhe interrupts her.

Thobile nods.

“I trust you. I will see you when you get back.” Mzwakhe concludes.

Thobile nods her head again.

Mzwakhe rises from the bench that he is sitting on and walks towards the ward that Nokuthula was in. He leaves Thobile with the baby – hoping for the best I suppose.

…

Thobile came back and seated herself on the same bench that she found Mzwakhe sitting with the baby. She bought the formula milk and a bottle, then asked one of the nurses to help her prepare the bottle for the baby. She was nice enough to buy Mzwakhe some lunch as well – for the purpose of being nice I suppose.

Mzwakhe came out of the doors before Thobi after what seemed like three hours and sat next to Thobi – who was feeding the baby cradled in her arms. Thobi looked at him. Something inside of him seemed so dead.

“Bhuti, I got you something to eat”, she began.

“Thank you, but I am not hungry,” Mzwakhe responded.

“Bhuti, I do not mean to be annoying kodwa you must eat. Your son still needs you to be strong”, Thobi continued.

“You sound just like my wife”, Mzwakhe responded.

Thobi looked away. Mzwakhe grabs the food in the Pick n Pay plastic bag and ate. He downed the Coca-Cola that he found in the plastic grocery bag.

“Thank you Thobile,” Mzwakhe finally says after he has eaten and seeming significantly lighter.

Thobile smiles at him.

“I am Mzwakhe by the way – Mzwakhe Mthethwa”, Mzwakhe introduces himself now that he has eaten, and of course after Thobi disappeared with his son but was decent enough to bring him back.

“Nice to meet you Nyambose,” Thobi.

“That little man that you are feeding and holding in your arms – his name is Sibusiso.  Sibusiso is only three months old and his mother just passed away. She is the one whom I had to go and identify,” Mzwakhe says, his tone indicating that he is going back to that very dark place again.

“I am really sorry for you loss Nyambose. Sithi dudu ku wena”, Thobi.

“Ngiyabonga sisi”, Mzwakhe says, holding Thobi’s hand.

“Is Sibu your only child?” Thobi querries.

“No actually, he is my youngest. My wife has three of my children. Sibusiso’s mother was my girlfriend. My wife made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with this situation and that is why I am unable to take Sibusiso home with me,” Mzwakhe says, beginning to sound rather suspicious.

“I am sure she will come around eventually. His mother has passed away, what is she expecting you to do?” Thobi, trying to sound like she is not judging this man.

“Yho, you don’t know my wife. She will never accept my son.” Mzwakhe.

            “I would never accept him neither if I were her”, thinks Thobi.

“Nyambose, I would love to help you. But I am just a student. I live in a little two bedroom flat with my domestic worker and her son,” Thobi.

“I understand”, interrupted Mzwakhe.

Thobile feels bad though for not being able to help Mzwakhe.

The baby pushes the bottle out of his mouth using the force of his little tongue. Mzwakhe pulls the bottle from him. Thobi puts the baby over her shoulder. After a healthy burp, she hands him back to his father.

“Good luck with everything, Nyambose. I hope everything works out well for you and baby Sibu”.

…

Mzwakhe spent the night in a hotel with his son. He could not go home because his wife told him, from the minute he mentioned a pregnant girlfriend that she wants nothing to do with that situation. Mzwakhe knew better than to test Thandi. Thandiwe Mthethwa was a good woman, but she was also cold to things that looked like betrayal. Mzwakhe knew that he could not stay away from home forever. At the same time, he could not abandon his child; that is not what a Mthethwa man does.

Mzwakhe found himself thinking about Thobile. She was kind. She was gentle. And she was very beautiful. “Where did she come from?” He kept wondering. She literally appeared to him in the midst of his cry and comforted him, ensuring that both he and his son were fed. “God, was that you trying to tell me something?” He prayed to himself. “What was she even doing in that hospital to begin with? Whatever it was, she evidently did not get a chance to do it because Sibusiso and I consumed her time and attention”, he kept thinking to himself.

Mzwakhe took a shower and bathed baby Sibusiso as best as he could in the hotel basin. He took the baby bag and the baby, left the hotel and drove to the hospital. He searched for the nurse that helped him the previous day, sister Nhlengetwa, and when he found her, she was on her way out as her shift was over.

“Sister Nhlengetwa, hi”, Mzwakhe stopped her.

Sister Nhlengetwa looked at him, carefully examining his mood. After the attack from yesterday, she was not ready for round two.

“I have come to apologise for my behaviour yesterday. I know it is no excuse, but I was intensely devastated. I am sorry.” Mzwakhe.

“That is very big of you. Thank you. And you are right, that is no excuse. You had no right to speak to me in that manner. I was merely doing my job. I understand that you were hurt but Mr Mthethwa you need to learn to manage your EQ a lot better. That was completely unacceptable,” sister Nhlengetwa blabbing her mouth like a high and mighty citizen of the state, evidently forgetting that the psychological part of her job came with dealing with people who are emotionally traumatised by the death of a loved one.

“Please accept my humble apologies”, continued Mzwakhe.

Sister Nhlengetwa nodded her head and carried on with her journey to exit her workplace after a very long shift.

“Sister, if I may…” Mzwakhe, interrupting her journey to exit her workplace.

“Yes?” Sister Nhlengetwa, tired and irritated.

“The lady that helped me out yesterday… the one who held my son while I went to…” Mzwakhe struggled to finish his sentence.

“Thobile, the beautiful lady who apologised for your behaviour while you were still out of your senses. What about her?” Sister Nhlengetwa.

“What was she doing here yesterday?” Mzwakhe asks.

“I don’t understand your question Mr Mthethwa. She was here with you.” Sister Nhlengetwa genuinely confused.

“That’s the thing, she wasn’t. I literally met her yesterday and she was so nice to me – heavenly-sent actually,” Mzwakhe.

“Mr Mthethwa, I genuinely thought that lady was here with you. If she wasn’t then I really do not know what she was here to do. I am sorry, I cannot help you.” Sister Nhlengetwa, marching past him and determined not to stop for anymore of Mzwakhe’s questioning. She was tired, hungry, and needed some sleep. She had lost five patients to death during her shift – including Nokuthula Buzo – Mzwakhe’s quest to find his kind stranger was the least of her worries.

Mzwakhe settled on the bench that he and Thobile met at yesterday. He was determined to ask every nursing sister about her until he found some kind of lead to her – even if it was just her surname. In this day and age, social media will trace you well with your name and surname.

“Nyambose”, the angel appeared out of no where again while he was trapped in his thoughts of finding her. She always seems to find him first. He looked up, following the direction of her angelic voice, and his eyes were met halfway with the most beautiful and genuine smile that he has ever seen his 39 years of living.

“Thobile, sawubona”, Mzwakhe rose from the bench in admiration of the vision before him. This time, he gave himself time to genuinely look at her and take in her beauty. My, she is beautiful.

“How are you and Sibu doing? At least he is not crying today. You seem to have your situation under control today.” Thobile, staring at baby Sibusiso and ready to take him from his father’s arms. Mzwakhe notices that Thobile cannot take her eyes off the baby.

“Would you like to hold him?” He asks her.

Thobile immediately put her bag down and a paperbag that she had. She extended her hands and received the baby from Mzwakhe. She cradled Sibu like he was her own, talking to him like he could understand her. Baby Sibu let out a smile and Thobi pulled him towards her chest, letting him hear how gently her heart was beating because of the love that she and the baby were sharing. She then hugged him. Mzwakhe is so fascinated by her maternal instincts. To Mzwakhe, Thobi only met Sibusiso yesterday. How is it possible that she loves him so much already?

“Do you mind if we perhaps went out for breakfast? I haven’t eaten yet and I would like to get to know you better, Thobi.” Mzwakhe proposes.

“I would love to, but my friend is expecting me. I am here to see her actually.” Thobi, declining the offer.

“Lunch then?” Mzwakhe counter-proposes.

Thobi smiles at him. “Okay”, she says.

“Can I perhaps get your number, maybe that way, we can be in communication about where to meet and at what time we should meet at that place,” Mzwakhe.

“Sure, no problem.” Thobi gives Mzwakhe her number and then hands Sibusiso back to Mzwakhe, kissing his cheek and promising to see them both later. She gathered her handbag and paperbag and walked on to see her friend. Mzwakhe watched her walk into a surgical ward and gazed at the ten digits that she had put in his phone.

…

Thobi found her friend fast asleep. She sat on the bench next to her and started sliding through Instagram posts. After a brief ten minutes, Princess wakes up.

“Hey friend,” Princess interrupts Thobi’s social media catch up session.

“Hey gorgeous, how are you feeling?” Thobi stands up from the chair and steps closer to Princess, placing her caring hand on her cheek.

“I am just going through the physical pain right now friend, I will deal with the emotional bit some other day when I am ready,” Princess.

“Well, I brought you something,” Thobi says, handing her the paperbag she had been carrying around.

“What is it?” Princess asks with a smile on her face.

Thobi and Princess have been friends for four years now. They met when they were roommates in their first year of university. They both have their own flats now, but their connection is still incredibly tight. Thobi is a well-off young lady, thanks to her very wealthy family that owns hotels all over South Africa, and she is a very smart young lady who is already taking over from her father – the mighty Langa Zulu. She co-owns a coffee shop with her father as well. They named it after her mother – Zakithi. She has started taking over some of her father’s hotels. But she works at these hotels during school holidays in order to familiarise herself with the culture of the hotels, and thus having a positive input in improving BAU (Business As Usual) in the hotel.

Princess’ story is not so hunky dory. Princess’ father is a bi-racial mix of a white woman and a black man. The white grandmother’s family wants nothing to do with her because she is fathered by a black man. Princess’ mother is Indian. Her mother’s side of the family wants nothing to do with her or her mother because Princess is “dirty blood”. She was raised by her mother – a lovely grade 6 teacher, and her father – a grade 10 teacher. Her parents were killed in a car accident when she was in second year. She has older siblings but they do not really check-in on her. Everyone is just living their lives. When the government paid out all of that teacher money to the kids, some spent the money on cars and a better life. Princess invested the money. Her education is being sponsored by bursaries and her lifestyle, i.e. Sandton apartment, M4 BMW 2-door car, designer clothes, unbelievably expensive Malaysian weave, and unbelievably expensive make-up products are all sponsored by her blesser – Sydney Ramagoshi.

“Friend, you got me these emoji slippers that I have BEEEEEEEEEENNNN wanting. Thank you thank you thank you!” Princess is super excited about her gift.

“They are not just any emoji slippers, girlfriend, they even have your name printed on them”, Thobi emphasised, excited that her friend loves the gift.

“Yaaaaaaassss!!!” Princess yells as she notices the “Princess ‘Ndlovukazi’ Ndlovu” printed on the slippers.

She laughs, super excited about her gift. Thobi is the sentimental type of girl. All her gifts are well thought out and will definitely mean something to the receiver. Thobi and Princess hug each other. Princess is very close to Thobi’s heart. Thobi does not have many friends, but Princess is as good as a sibling to her.

Sydney walks into the ward with some flowers.

“Ladies”, he acknowledges the friends sharing a hug.

“Hi baby. Look at what Thobi bought me? How cool are they?” Princess says, showing Sydney her slippers.

“They are beautiful Ndlovukazi”, Sydney says, smiling and relieved that Princess is laughing again. It has been a rough week. He has even started calling her Ndlovukazi again. He has always called her Ndlovukazi, and Princess loved it.

“Hi Thobi,” Sydney addresses Thobi.

“Hello”, Thobi responds. Cold.

There is a weird silence. Princess is disheartened.

“Guys…” she tries to address the elephant in the room, but Thobi interrupts her. How dare Sydney come in here to interrupt such a happy moment.

“Friend, remember the guy that I was telling you about yesterday? Mzwakhe? The one with the baby?”

Princess’ face lights up again.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! The one who did not even ask for your number and you didn’t ask for his number neither… did you see him again?” Princess, panting like a child who is ready to receive sweets.

“Well, he asked me to have lunch with him today and then asked me for my number”, Thobi says, jumping on a spot.

The friends giggle in excitement.

“Oh my goodness, what are you going to wear?” Princess asks in pure and genuine excitement.

“I am not going friend.” Thobi, killing the excitement.

“Why?” Princess, her mood deflated now.

Thobi looks at her, ready to break into a chuckle, “Because I gave him a wrong number”, she finally says. They break out in laughter.

Sydney watched the friends enjoy this conversation about making some man a fool. Only Thobi could make Princess this happy about anything. Sometimes, he would take both of them out to lunch just to see the smile that Princess releases only in the presence of Thobi. It was beautiful. He and Thobi were not exactly best friends, but Thobi was one friend he would never get rid of in Princess’ life. He successfully alienated Princess from all her other friends, but Thobi is the one who survived the reshuffle.

In the midst of Sydney’s deep thoughts, a face he knows far too well enters the room. The loud laughter between the friends is interrupted by the gentlemen greeting each other:

“Hawu, Mthethwa – how are you?” Sydney extends his hand for a handshake.

“I am well Ramagoshi. I am very well now that I have found what I have been searching this entire surgical ward for,” Mzwakhe says, starring at Thobi.

Sydney and Princess follow the direction of Mzwakhe’s eyes and land on Thobi’s smile.

“So they let you in the surgical ward with a baby in your arms?” Thobi.

“You are the only person that I trust with my son. I was not prepared to leave him with anyone else and I was not leaving here again without your number – not the wrong number that you have given me. The power of true-caller”, Mzwakhe says.

Princess smiles. She is impressed.

“If that is Mzwakhe, then brother-Mzwakhe is cute honey!” Princess whispers to Thobi.

“Mzwakhe, this is my best friend, Princess. Pri, this is…”

Princess interjects Thobi’s introduction, extending her hand to Mzwakhe and saying, “the perfect stranger. Nice to meet you Mzwakhe.”

“I think I am going to like this friend”, Mzwakhe, returning the handshake.

A nurse barges in and looks at Mzwakhe, accompanied by security, and says, “Sir, you need to remove this baby from here.”

“Sisi, he was just leaving. There really isn’t any need for all of this.” Princess tells the nurse.

“Friend, I will see you later okay. Enjoy lunch. I will be fine, Syd is here.” Princess, encouraging Thobi to leave with brother-Mzwakhe, the perfect stranger.

Thobi pecks Princess on the cheek, walks to Mzwakhe and takes the baby from him, and they leave.

…

“I still need to go to my place to change”, Thobi explains as she, Sibusiso and Mzwakhe reach the outside of the hospital.

“We can car-pull, I don’t mind”, Mzwakhe.

“Mzwakhe, I don’t have a car. I ubered here.” Thobi.

“Then let’s use my car”, Mzwakhe.

“That will not be necessary,” Thobi.

“I insist”, Mzwakhe.

…

The 20 minute drive led the newly formed family of three to Thobi’s 2 bedroom apartment in Paulshoff. Thobi opened the gate, and led Mzwakhe to the door, holding baby Sibusiso in her arms. The door is open as Phindi is still cleaning.

“Sawubona sis’Phindi”, Thobi greets Phindi as she walks into her flat with a baby and a man. Phindi could not have been more awkward.

“Molo sisi. Akhonto?” Phindi, trying very hard to not be rude.

“Ngiyaphila sis’Phindi. This is Mzwakhe. Mzwakhe is my friend. Nyambose, this is sis’Phindi. She helps me a lot here at home with domestic chores.” Thobi introduces the two parties.

“Sawubona sisi”, Mzwakhe.

Phindi gives him a brief and cold smile.

An eight year old comes running into the house from the balcony and runs to hug Thobi. Thobi returns the hug with one hand as the other is occupied by baby Sibu.

“And this is my big boy, Phila. Phila is sis’Phindi’s son. Phila this is uncle Mzwakhe. And look, I brought you a new friend. His name is Sibusiso.” Thobi.

Phila looks at the baby, very excited but concerned.

“But sis’Thobi, he will not be able to play soccer with me or playstation.” Phila.

“That is because he is still very small. But if we give him a nice chance to grow up, you will teach him all those nice things right?” Thobi.

“Okay”, says Phila. And then he is off to play on the balcony again.

Thobi looks at Phindi and Mzwakhe, and she realises that these two may or may not like each other. But at this moment, Mzwakhe is into Thobi he is not even facing Phindi. And Phindi is just – simply put – put off!

“Sis’Phindi, may I please ask you to get baby essentials for baby Sibu here at Cambridge Crossing please?” Thobi.

Phindi was an overly comfortable domestic worker in Thobi’s little flat. She took advantage of the fact that Thobi was young and Phindi stayed there with her son. According to Phindi, her name may as well be on the title deed. But she chose to not exercise that power in the presence of Mzwakhe. She needed to understand the nature of their relationship first. Thobi has never brought men home. And this one looks like he can get her fired.

Mzwakhe gave Phindi R5000 and told her to take her son shopping too. Phindi was not impressed at all. She took Phila with her and left the new family of three alone in Thobi’s house.

“Please help yourself to anything in the fridge, and some snacks in the cupboard. I am going get dressed”, Thobi, making Mzwakhe comfortable.

“Thank you,” Mzwakhe.

            Thobile entered her room and started preparing herself for lunch with Mzwakhe. “What to wear?” she asks herself. She pulls out blue jeans, a white short-sleeved blouse, and white sandal wedges. She takes a quick shower, telling herself that she probably does not smell as fresh anymore. She fixes her make-up, ties her thin braids into a bun, and comes back into the bedroom. She hears some music playing in her TV room, and assumes that Mzwakhe is officially comfortable in her apartment. He is playing Jodeci’s album. Interesting. Mzwakhe never struck Thobi as the old skool RnB type; she never suggested he play some music because she did not think that he would like any of the CDs she has. Thobi dresses up and accessorises herself in cultural beads. If he can play her music, she can accessorise like she is on her way to umembeso. Thobi grabs a navy blue handbag and as she walks out of her bedroom, she strolls down the passage to Jodeci’s “Cry for you”. Mzwakhe cannot help but stare at her – all he sees is a music video playing right in front of him. Here is this lady who looks like she has just walked out of a magazine, looking beautiful and flawless. She is fiddling for something in her handbag, her movement is literally to the instruments of the song playing on the sound system. He smiles. Thobile looks up and catches him staring at her. She smiles at him.

“Umuhle nkosazana – ku giya namadlozi”, Mzwakhe.

“Ngiyabonga Nyambose”, Thobile.

“Are Phindi and Phila back yet?” Thobile asks, trying to make light of the moment. She is beginning to think that she is overdressed. There is something very uncomfortable about someone’s husband looking at her the way that Mzwakhe was looking at her.

“No, not yet.” Mzwakhe, not taking his eyes off of her at all.

Phindi and Phila walk in. Phindi is annoyed and Phila is enjoying ice-cream melting all over his hands, sticky over his face, and stained all over his t-shirt.

“Phindile, do you mind staying with Sibusiso while Mageba and I go and enjoy some food outdoors?” Mzwakhe, still not taking his eyes off Thobile.

“I am not a baby-sitter and I certainly do not work for you”, Phindi responds.

Thobi and Mzwakhe look at her, completely stunned.

“Excuse me?” Thobi addresses her.

“Thobile, this is not your child. And I am not a baby-sitter. Who is this man?” Phindile, bravery on level 100.

“Phindile, can we please talk out there on the balcony”, Thobi, leading the way to the balcony. Phindile looks at Mzwakhe, disgusted at him.

Phindile and Thobile get to the balcony.

“What the hell is your problem?” Thobile.

“Do you have any idea who that man is? He is married.” Phindi, judging Thobi.

“I know that. I am still trying to understand what your problem is”, Thobile.

“Thobile, he was dating a very good friend of mine. Her name was Nokuthula. She died. And I can bet you a million dollars –

“I don’t want to hear it”, Thobile interjects her sentence.

“I am not asking you to stay with Sibusiso, I am telling you to stay with him and look after him. If I come back here and find him crying or neglected in any way, I will tell baba that it is time I got myself new help.” Thobile.

“This man hasn’t even been here for five minutes and he is already making you speak to me like this? I am your elder Thobile and that child is not yours”, Phindile raising her voice.

“Phila is not my child neither, but he lives here and enjoys the benefits of me supporting him”, Thobile fighting back.

Phindi is speechless.

“I hope you bought everything that you will need to make sure baby Sibu is comfortable while his father and I are out”, Thobile concludes the conversation. She then walks back into the house, grabs her bag, and leaves with Mzwakhe after giving Phila a hug and baby Sibu a cute kiss. She even asked Phila to take care of baby Sibu and Phila promised he would – after Mzwakhe gave him R300.

…

“Are you okay?” Mzwakhe genuinely asks Thobile as they drive to an unknown destination.

“Where does your wife think you are?” Thobile blurts out.

“I would like to exercise my right remain silent if that is okay with you,” Mzwakhe.

There is instant silence in the car.

“Where would you like to eat?” Mzwakhe asks after a brief silence.

“A nice coffee spot that is transforming into a restaurant in Mellville, it is called Queen Zakithi”, Thobile says, her tone deflated.

“I have never heard of that place”, Mzwakhe.

“Just type it in Waze, you will find it.” Thobi.

Mzwakhe parks the car on the side of the road and turns off the engine. He looks at Thobi. She is not in a good mood at all. Before he could even say anything to Thobi, she spat out “Mzwakhe, are you trying to make a homewrecker like you did with Nokuthula, Phindi’s friend? And if I die, God-forbid, you will pass on any children we may have together to the first woman who will show you and my child some care?”

Mzwakhe’s eyes almost popped out of his eye sockets. After he has taken in Thobi’s question, he humbly says, “Cha. That is not my plan. My plan is to marry you. I want you to be my second wife.”

Thobi was beyond pissed off. She opened the door and got out of the car. She started walking to only Lord knows where. Mzwakhe hopped out of the car and followed her, yelling “Thobile! Mageba! Please hear me out?!” Thobile turned around and walked towards him, raising her voice and saying, “Hear you out ungibhedela lana?! Are you fucken kidding me right now? Ufuna ukuthatha isithembu ngami? Have you completely lost your mind? Or am I the one who simply looks like I would be that kind of woman for you?!” Mzwakhe tries to calm Thobile down, puts his hands on her shoulders and is met with Thobile’s heated response, “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

Mzwakhe surrenders.

“I will be walking home!” Thobile yells as she walks away from Mzwakhe. After she realises that he is on a highway and home is far… also it is very hot and wedges are not the most comfortable shoes to be pulling a zap-sign at a car in, she turns around and walks back to the car, settles in the front seat, and slams the door. Mzwakhe looks at her and giggles.

…

Two blessed years later, Sibusiso is two years old, Mzwakhe and Thobile are married, and Thobile has just given birth to a bouncy baby boy – first baby brother to Sibusiso and all of the other kids that Mzwakhe has: Shaka Mthethwa.

The relationship between Thobile and Thandiwe (Mzwakhe’s first wife) is best described as cordial; and that is because Thobile opted to stay in Nelspruit with her off-springs. Thandi is not the kind of drama she needs in the growth of her empire. Thandiwe continuously accused Thobi of being after Mzwakhe’s money that Thobi oathed to stay out of the family business. Mzwakhe wanted her vested in the business because of her education and her business practice experience. Thobi would always tell him to “teach Thandi and leave me out of it”.

Mzwakhe started opening branches of the family business in Nelspruit so that he can spend more time with Thobi. He spent too much time in Gauteng with Thandi because of business, therefore he only saw it fit that he opens a few branches in Nelspruit to share himself equally with his wives. This only made Thandi loathe Thobi even more. This, and the fact that her two daughters, Nonceba and Mbali, moved to live with Thobi. At first it was to help their father start up the Mpumalanga branches. The two girls went to Nelspruit to give Thobi hell because of their mother’s influence. But when they gave themselves a chance to genuinely show them who she is – genuine, loving, and caring, they loved her. They admired her relationship with Sibusiso the most and they even reached a point where they called her mother. Thandi could not stand it.    

[railsroadsandreflections-blog]

Terminus

Welcome to Janta express, an extraordinarily ordinary 24 hour train ride, wide wheelingly rolling through open, vast fields and fascinating but forgotten villages. Mind your step and hop into SL, sleeper class, where you will be sharing a temporary home - a space with two opposite sides of three vertically placed benches - with complete strangers. Quite possibly, you´ll be sitting across an older woman dressed in a sari and dangling bracelets, hair dyed in henna and skin so bleached that Michael Jackson himself would´ve gawked, her husband in sober clothing seated calmy beside her. Always greeted by smiles – Indians on trains will stare and wonder but never fail to treat you as one of their own. Sit down, take off your shoes, and enjoy the ride.  

Nowhere can a Nordic girl feel safer than in this modest, light blue colored carriage, soothing but sometimes chaotic as the nosy, noisy Indian families settle in for a day on the tracks. A man in round glasses hands me two cookies: food is offered generously, and if not, every five minutes someone will pass by with a variety of treats and gadgets to sell. Whether it´s a masala or a hammer, the salesman will fish it out of his bucket and ask you 10 rupees for it. Any trash from the purchases may conveniently be tossed out of the windows, which remain open at all times. All day long, I sweat and pant like a dog in a sauna, but at night, the cold breeze brades my hair into an ice crown. A journey is never so beautiful as it is in afterthought… Have an acquired taste? Say no more, and tune into general class, unreserved and inexpensive. Bold and bravehearted you must be: this is no chocolate coated croissant. Stolen passports have been reported and rumor has it that the roof makes an excellent camping spot, but only a oneway ticket can solve the mystery.  

Close to me, a whole family has squeezed into one seat. The kids are acting rowdy and their caretaker is not impressed: she smacks the girls on the cheek rather violently. The train rolls off slowly, and as it does so, voices are swiftly raised, feet are on the go and a whole herd of Indians jump off the accelerating train. No need to hug goodbye on the platform: Indian trains are like an extended home, open for everyone. One of the mischievous girls suddenly finds herself on the other side of the metal window, teary eyed, gripping the hand of perhaps her cousin. They will very soon be separated by thousands of kilometers. As I watch I tune into her emotion: trains and goodbyes, lovers and letters – classic, nostalgic and purely sentimental.  

The day is spent gazing out of the windows at the snapshots, ephemeres of ordinary lives: Fieldworkers with wooden baskets, burning and basking in the afternoon heat, teenagers gathering, soon to be joined by their friends on bikes, hurrying to the cricket field from the mazy paths that separate the playground from their village. On lonely train stations, old men read newspapers and beggars of all ages push their faces against the prison-like windows of the carriage. The tracks whistle and hum while thousands of passengers roll forward into the neverending land. All senses aboard!

Sleeper is no luxury, but your olfactory system is about to have a first class treatment: a potpourri of stenches occupy the air in and around the train, urine being the most pleasant of them. At night one can expect to be woken, as if on a sweet Saturday morning, greeted by the pleasant smells of Mother´s cinnamon rolls. If Mother´s cinnamon rolls were made out of sewage and excrement, that is. Occasionally the reeks are disastrously dreadful and I conclude- hell musn´t be far. Not exactly helping the matter is the general and nationwide illusion that the tracks function as a trash bin, resulting in cows and stray dogs roaming about in the waste, feasting on plastic dinners. Speaking of dinner, the culinary festivities commence at 5 PM, even though Indians eat much later into the night. ”Chaaaaaaaaaaai!”, yells a guy, and the rest comes out in indecipherable hindi. The sellers hurry down the aisle in such rapidity that for once, I wish they would be a bit more insistant. Make a silly sound, grab them by the arm- anything! - And the spicy, steaming samosas and luscious lassis will be yours to devour. Simply by having a ball, you´ll be part of it all.

”I love Finland girls. You are so sexy”. It was my first train ride alone in India, and my good faith was about to come to a rapid end. Sure, looking back, I had been warned: Indian men have a tendency to behave inappropriately with solo women, but how could such a cliché turn out to be true? The subtler seducers settle for a wink, a thumbs up or the classic pursing of the lips, inviting one to a perfectly innocent public embrace in a society where holding hands with the opposite gender is considered improper (however both men and women hold hands with their same gendered comrades). I ignore the gentleman in the tuktuk, licking his lips and staring at me, immensely flatterered by the irresistibly charming man´s attention: tender seduction is a form of art in India. From now on - if anyone bothers to ask - I´m married. Once I was reading at a train station, when two female guards marched up to me, clearly a bit amused. They wanted to know -without further ado- if I had a son.

Hold your horses, there is more: while you are sipping your imaginery mojito, observing and obsessing over the excessive heat, your trainride may suddenly turn a teensy bit wild. For example, if you fancy a dinnermate, a monkey or a cow, sometimes even a knee-bending, giggling goat, will be happy to share your veg biryani. Ah yes, the animal kingdom has truly won my heart. A camel trotting down a busy street, a dog and a buffalo lying side by side in the middle of the road (because duuh, where else?), puppies, practically newborn, sniffing the odours of a new dawn, and a giant elephant parading down the street, dressed to impress. Indeed, nod your head a few more times, you are in for a terrifically dandy ride…and all of this for the price of a metro ticket in Oslo. Sadly though, the animals are exploited and maltreated, with the exception of the cow, which is holier than Mother Theresa. To say that vegeterianism is widespread in India would be an understatement, but though you won´t find any unethically considered egg or meat in a true hindu restaurant, milk always comes in bucketloads.

Ladies and gentlemen, our next stop is New Delhi station. Make sure you have all your belongings with you, and enjoy your day. I step off the metro train from the airport and gasp: all around me echos chaos. Yes, India can sometimes be a real pain In-di-a-ss, but also completely and utterly magical, unimaginable. Wisdom and willpower, thrill and taste, patience and persistense…these are some of my newly collected souvenirs. What can I say? Thanks. It wasn´t easy, but semi-permanent diarrhea and tinnitus aside, I have truly adventured. No country has left me standing in the middle of cow poo, alone, bag on back, tuktuks swarming around me like hungry sharks, clueless as to where to venture off, and for that I am strangely thankful. My first and last day differ not much, only my backpack and belly have gotten heavier (turns out, yoga does not cover for oily curries). No longer is India the scary, spicy threatening Asian subcontinent, but perhaps rather a frenemy: not quite a stranger, not quite a friend. The majority of the puzzle remains unsolved, but holi colors of the rainbow cover my body and musty incense forces its way up my nostrils: I have caught a sniff of magic.    

Tt.

Terminus

Bienvenue dans le Janta Express pour vingt-quatre heures de trajet extraordinairement ordinaire à grand train au milieu de vastes champs qui s’ouvrent à perte de vue, à travers des villages fascinants mais oubliés. Faites attention à la marche et sautez donc en SL, sleeper class, où vous partagerez votre logement temporaire – un espace avec trois rangées de bancs verticales qui se font face – avec de parfaits inconnus. Il est plutôt probable que vous vous retrouviez assise en face d’une dame âgée, drapée d’un sari, bracelets ballants sur les bras, les cheveux teints au henné et la peau si décolorée que Michael Jackson lui-même en aurait pâli ; son mari est calmement assis à ses côtés dans des vêtements sobres. Vous serez toujours salué par des sourires – les indiens dans les trains vont vous dévisager, vous décortiquer, mais ne manqueront jamais de vous accueillir comme l’un des leurs. Alors asseyez-vous, enlevez vos chaussures et profitez du voyage. Nulle part ailleurs une fille du nord ne pourrait se sentir plus en sécurité que dans ce wagon bleu clair, apaisant bien que plongé parfois dans le chaos de familles indiennes bruyantes et fouineuses qui se sont installées pour plus d'une journée sur les rails. Un homme aux lunettes rondes me tend deux cookies : la nourriture est offerte avec générosité, et dans le cas où cela n’arriverait pas, un vendeur ambulant passera certainement dans votre wagon toutes les cinq minutes pour vous proposer une offre variée de biens et de gadgets. Que ce soit un masala ou un marteau, le vendeur vous le pêchera d’un de ses grands baquets avant de vous demander quelques roupies pour ça. Si d’aventure vos achats vous laissaient avec quelques détritus sur les bras, pas d’inquiétude : vous pouvez simplement les jeter par la fenêtre qui reste constamment ouverte de toute façon. Toute la journée, je halète et je sue comme un chien dans un sauna mais dès que la nuit tombe, le vent froid tresse mes cheveux en une couronne de glace. Un voyage n’est jamais aussi beau que lorsqu’on se souviendra plus tard… C’est bon, vous avez une idée assez précise ? Attendez un peu, et réglez vous sur general class : pas de réservation mais pas cher non plus. Pour sûr il vous faudra un cœur hardi, car ce ne sera pas une partie de plaisir. On a rapporté que des passeports y ont été volés, et des rumeurs disent que le toit ferait un excellent lieu de camping… Seul un ticket pour un aller simple pourrait résoudre ce mystère. Près de moi, toute une famille se presse dans un seul siège. Les enfants chahutent bruyamment mais leur nourrice ne se laisse pas impressionner : elle gifle la joue des fillettes plutôt violemment. À mesure que le train ralentit, les voix s’élèvent, les pieds commencent à s’activer et, bientôt, tout un troupeau d’indiens bondit du train encore en marche. Pas besoin d’embrassades d’adieu, les trains indiens sont comme une grande maison, ouverte à tous. L’une des petites filles espiègles se retrouve soudainement de l’autre côté de la fenêtre en métal, l’œil humide, accroché à la main d’un peut-être cousin. Bientôt, elle et ses camarades seront séparées par des milliers de kilomètres. Pendant que je l’observe, je me branche sur ses émotions : adieux et trains, amants et lettres – classique, nostalgique, purement sentimental. La journée passe, le regard fixé sur la fenêtre qui voit défiler inlassablement d’éphémères tableaux de vies ordinaires : des travailleurs dans les champs, de grandes corbeilles en bois à leurs côtés, qui brûlent et se prélassent dans le chaleur de l’après-midi, des adolescents qui se rassemblent, bientôt rejoints par leurs amis en vélo, et qui se hâtent à travers le labyrinthe de maisons qui sépare leur village du terrain de cricket. Dans les gares solitaires, des vieillards lisent leurs journaux, des mendiants de tout âge pressent leurs visages contre les barreaux des fenêtres de votre cellule-wagon. Les rails sifflent et vrombissent et des milliers de passagers fusent à travers les terres infinies. Tous les sens en avant ! La sleeper class n’est peut-être pas luxueuse, mais votre système olfactif va recevoir un traitement de première classe : l’air autour et dans le train est rempli d’un pot-pourri de puanteurs dont l’urine est certainement la plus plaisante. Alors que la nuit s’avance, attendez vous, occasionnellement, à vous faire réveiller de la même façon que pouvaient le faire ces odeurs délicieuses qui s’échappaient du four où votre mère faisait, dans la tranquillité sereine d’un samedi matin, gonfler de savoureuses brioches à la cannelle. Sauf que dans ce cas, les principaux ingrédients de ces brioches viendraient de la fosse septique. Parfois, l’odeur est tellement épouvantable que j’en déduis que l’enfer lui-même doit être proche. L’idée générale et répandue dans l’ensemble du pays que les chemins de fer sont une poubelle n’aide pas exactement. Vaches et chiens errent en permanence dans les déchets, à se repaître de dîners en plastique. En parlant de dîner, les festivités culinaires commencent à 5h de l’après-midi, bien que les indiens mangent beaucoup plus tard que ça. « Chaaaaaaaaaaaai » hurle un type et le reste explose à mon oreille en un hindi indéchiffrable. Les vendeurs forcent l’allure le long de l’allée, à tel point que, pour une fois, j’aimerais bien qu’ils soient un poil plus insistant. Produis n’importe quel son, attrape-les par la main – tout ce que tu veux ! – et tu pourras librement dévorer les appétissants samosas, aussi fumants qu’épicés, ou les  lassis succulents. Un bon moment vous attend si vous décidez d’entrer dans la danse. « J’adore les filles Finlande. Vous êtes tellement sexy ». Mon premier voyage en train seule m’a vite fait déchanter. Bien sûr, lorsque je regarde en arrière, j’avais été prévenue : les hommes indiens ont tendance à se comporter de manière inappropriée avec les femmes seules, mais comment un tel cliché pouvait-il se révéler aussi vrai ? Les séducteurs les plus subtiles se contentent  d’un clin, un pouce levé ou d’un classique mouvement des lèvres, du genre qui vous invite à une étreinte parfaitement innocente dans une société où le simple fait de tenir en public la main d’une personne de l’autre sexe est considéré comme indigne (alors qu’il est au contraire très courant de voir, aussi bien un homme qu’une femme tenir la main d’un de ses camarades du même sexe). J’ignore le gentleman dans le tuktuk qui se lèche les lèvre en me dévisageant, immensément flattée par l’attention que me porte l’irrésistible charmeur ; pour sûr, la séduction en Inde est une forme d’art. À partir de maintenant, si quelqu’un demande : je suis mariée. Une fois que je lisais dans une gare, deux policières marchent vers moi, l’air clairement goguenard. Elles m’ont demandé – sans préambule particulier – si j’avais un fils. Mais attendez, ça n’est pas fini : alors que vous sirotez votre mojito imaginaire, alors que vous observez tout en maudissant la chaleur excessive, votre trajet en train peut tout d’un coup prendre un tour un tantinet plus sauvage.  Si vous rêviez de compagnie pour votre dîner, rassurez-vous : un singe, une vache, parfois même une chèvre cocassement posée sur ses genoux, se feront un plaisir de partager votre veg biryani. Eh oui, le règne animal a vraiment gagné mon cœur. Un chameau qui descend une rue passante, un chien et un buffle qui sont allongés côte à côte au milieu de route (ben parce que, voyons, où d’autre?), de jeunes chiots, pratiquement nouveaux-nés, qui reniflent les odeurs d’une aube nouvelle, ou encore un éléphant, harnaché pour intimider, qui parade le long d’une rue. Oui, vous pouvez hocher la tête encore quelques fois, vous êtes effectivement partis pour un tour effroyablement excitant… et tout ça pour le prix d’un ticket de métro à Oslo. En revanche, les animaux sont assez tristement exploités et maltraités en général, à l’exception de la vache, évidemment, qui est plus sainte encore que Mère Theresa. Dire que le végétarisme est répandu en Inde serait un euphémisme, et pourtant, bien que vous ne trouverez jamais d’aliments considérés aussi immoraux que des œufs ou de la viande dans un réel restaurant hindou, le lait y est consommé par baquets entiers. Mesdames et messieurs, notre train s’arrêtera prochainement à New Delhi Station. Assurez-vous de n’avoir rien oublié à bord et profitez de votre journée. Je descend du métro qui m’amène de l’aéroport et ma respiration se bloque dans ma poitrine : tout autour de moi se répercutent des échos de chaos. Alors oui, parfois vous aurez l’impression que ce pays vous la met bien prof-inde, mais la magie qui s’en dégage est tout à fait inimaginable à l’étranger. Sagesse et volonté, goût et frisson, patience et persistance… ce sont certains de mes nouveaux souvenirs. Que dire ? Merci. Ça n’était pas facile tous les jours, mais, si l’on excepte les coliques semi-permanentes et les acouphènes, je peux dire que j’ai vraiment vécu l’aventure. Aucun autre pays ne m’avait laissée debout dans les bouses de vaches, seule, le sac sur le dos, sans la moindre idée de la direction dans laquelle je devrais me mettre en route, avec des essaims de tuktuks qui me tournent autour comme des requins affamés, et pour tout ça, je me sens étrangement reconnaissante. Mon premier et mon dernier jour ne sont en fait pas si différents, si ce n’est que mon sac et mon estomac se sont plutôt alourdis (il s’est avéré que le yoga ne compense pas les currys pleins d’huile). L’Inde n’est plus ce sous-continent asiatique effrayant, aux épices menaçantes mais peut-être plutôt un étrami : plus tout à fait un étranger, pas encore tout à fait un ami. La majorité du puzzle reste évidemment irrésolu, mais les holies couleurs de l’arc-en-ciel couvrent mon corps et d’épais relents d’encens se frayent un chemin jusqu’à mes narines : j’ai pu saisir un parfum de magie.

Tt.