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johntmbl61 · 3 years ago

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Last Days of Rudolf Rassendyll, or The Two Kings (2018)

By JOHN TAN

My twice-told and enhanced version of Anthony Hope’s sequel (to A Prisoner of Zenda, 1894) i.e., Rupert of Hentzau, 1898, of which, by introducing materials for this new, rebuilt book, I tender some little hopes in making it a fuller, a more rounded, and better one!

Edited and translated excerpt from a Parisian newspaper (page 4, upper-right hand corner, originally written by Mdme. Maisie Kumaraswami -Gautier)

“July 7, PARIS: A startling discovery in the Bibliotheque nationale de France archive has raised the question and distinct possibility that the last member of the House of the Elphebergs, King Rudolf V, might have not been buried in Strelsau of which the annals of Ruritanian history had so proudly recorded. As news of this finding was broached and announced to the public it caused all the principal town-gossip at London this morning, and deep speculations in the county of Wessex, England, and also abroad, particularly, in Ruritania as public interest it had stirred deepens with regard to the extraordinary role an almost totally obscure Englishman might have played, in the history of this central European sovereign nation a hundred and thirty-five years ago.

According to the assistant head-librarian of the British Library and leader of the research team, Sir Philipp Antony, who had been tasked with unearthing and cataloguing documents relating to noble families in that eventful age, some thirty-nine letter-sized note-papers and scraps of faded writing addressed to Capt. Andy Drinkwater, commander of the frigate H.M.S. Scheherazade, which had come to light recently, have been proven by a leading expert, the assiduous demonstrations of M. Lelarche, and the brilliant and talented Cherokee graphologist, Mrs. Leonora Bakersfield of Cambridge, Mass., to be by Rudolf Rassendyll’s hand; himself the junior scion of Lord James Haydon Gordon Rassendyll, the eighteenth Earl of Burlesdon; pointing to evidences of a secret intrigue orchestrated against the Ruritanian Queen, Flavia 1 as the year waned in flaming, gorgeous colors in 18-- shortly before she herself ascended the throne in her own right, as, disclosing, over and over again, sterling proof, furthermore, that the white bones that lie within the Elphberg Family Vault, in the Cathedral of Saint Theodosius, Strelsau, instead of the hallowed ones belonging to the last of that illustrious line, comparable and as steeped in monumental exploits and majesty as the Bourbons of France and as famous as the celebrated Plantagenets in England, was but that of the English gentleman: Rudolf Rassendyll, whom we had referred to.

‘It is, further, a salient point to note and not difficult to trace the ad posteriori argumentation,’ the historian noteworthily elaborates, ‘since these yellow sheaves of papers were laid out almost like a complete manuscript, with additional materials, edited and expanded by a Colonel Hoffman Sapt and some brief lines and even paragraphs, appended, that certainly must have proceeded from the pen of King Rudolf V’s wife and successor, Queen Flavia 1, herself. Her beloved Majesty, as everyone is well aware who is knowledgeable or interested in European history, was blessed with a fortitude of mind and strong healthy constitution that had allowed her to reign for forty years after her husband’s death, after which the state became a republic. These obscure but now extraordinary and valuable papers,’ Sir Philipp disclosed, ‘had been acquired by the French antiquary, Robert Jacob Millais, some twenty years ago together with miscellaneous paintings, family portraits, old-fashioned costumes, scrapbooks, folios, first editions, quartos, and very ancient, leather-bound books, from Wickenham Castle, with a view giving to the north, hard by Nettle-Heath, and rising up from the south bank of the Meadowsweet, in South-western Wessex, without anyone delving into them, but how have they come to be placed and collected in the same bundle, are now ongoing subject matters to intrigued theorists; specialists as well as amateurs, and of further inquiry.’

Since this very important discovery was deemed to possess hallmarks of a captivating story, Sir Antony has also declared in an earlier interview with a correspondent of The Evening Standard that besides it warranting corroborative forensic investigation, he intends to place this rare treasure with a novelist, who is to whip it into shape for consumption; for to deny the general reading public and interested parties a tale of high romance recounting mighty deeds of derring-do and many plausible heroisms, in our British historian and researcher’s own words is ‘sheer idiocy, and not to be contemplated, because it’s utterly wrong, an in-advantageous and ill-advised thing to do, since the facts have it in themselves cogent truths regarding the actors in the unfolding drama such as those that have already been mentioned; also, Count Fritz von Tarlenheim, Lieutenant Benenstein, the Count of Luzau-Reischenheim, and perhaps, even more so, that most audacious swash-buckling arch-villain, that demi-devil, young, laughing, irreverent Rupert of Hentzau, all of which, are begging to be told of; preposterous and absurd and hardly credible as though it might be, to a pure-blooded Ruritanian who might have chosen to believe otherwise, instead.”

1: The recent past and home reminiscences

(RUDOLF RASSENDYLL’S NARRATIVE)

I, RUDOLF RASSENDYLL, beseated on a crowfoot and gilt chair in the Palace gardens, hereby, continues his account from where he had left off regarding his adventure in the simple semi-rural setting – rural, I mean, as compared with booming industrial nations like England, France and Prussia, where the Great Industrial Revolution is progressing in full swing – this laid back little, secluded State, far away from great city centers, those economic powerhouses of Europe, by which, I mean, this land-locked and mountainous sovereign country of Ruritania; where, lately, I had brought a great part of my sojourn, and unique experiences, close towards their successful conclusion. My ears could detect my borrowed pinchbeck watch ticking in my fob, softly and dully, and before daylight, it is my desire to quit the same country for a long time to come. The wind was blowing and ruffling the hair at the back of my head, as quill in hand, I am looking over what I had just written concerning my antecedents and my important reason for being at Ruritania this second time around, whereas, I had heretofore vowed to myself never to set foot on her dear soil again! This is not only to acquaint those whose good fortune or a mischance had allowed these papers to fall into his hands, but, by employing these broad strokes I am hoping, also, to afford a slight sketch – an insight, into my own Englishman’s heart, mind, and soul through self-revelatory disclosures that I have been setting down, that very central idea -- being, I am uniquely the man I am, myself, today, -- because my father had been my father!

The recollection, as it comes afresh now to my mind was that in my childhood and youth I had entertained a strong wish that my father come around. Even when understanding that I was faced with too great a probability that the man never could, because, he was adamant not to do so, I am given, even now, to think he never will. Indeed, I have given up this hope a great many years ago: so in truth what could I do with regard to our derailed, problematic father-and-son relationship but wisely blot all or any recollection of the man out entirely? There were times I was completely baffled because I was constantly and repeatedly disappointed due to his attitude, which was, it was okay for him to force us, trick us, or to coerce us, into accepting his blatant half-credible lies and last word in having his way in everything concerning us; which, in my memory today, I had pictured him as burying his nose in his own affairs at his desk while, at the same time, never showing any concern for and ignoring our desperate needs; therefore, treating us with so much impunity that t’was as if it was the deuced right and authority of his parenthood to deny us of everything – my brother and myself, I hereby mean!

‘Because I said so,’ was the implied or explicit message behind his every look, his every cold utterance and distant father’s gesticulations; for grown older, white-haired and stiffer, due to the attacks of gout later, he only noticed us when he wanted something from us: he knew very well how to enforce upon us our obedience that had been owed to him. The rest of the time he cut me dead. Every time he lied, give cop-out excuses or tell implausible tales that we could drive a post chaise, nay, even a locomotive through, he cut me dead. Indeed, I shudder to think what would happen if I had succumbed to the subtle influence of this distant, unpaternalistic, towering figure that dominated and ruled me: yet, my failure to understand altogether why he had found it impossibly hard to give me his love remains to this very moment! Thus, I developed a very simple and basic rule how I am to interact with my fellow human beings: that is to love and have plenty to do with those who need and love me and whom I love and need. It’s a code of conduct I wholly subscribe to; which is, if people do not need me or do not want to give me what I need I tend to have very little to do with them. I shy away from them: but, of course, not everybody should give everything I want to me; nor should I give and not care to receive! But, I believe, when every child observed a parent's face constantly sour, he had never realize he was so thoroughly a dependent until then: and soon, and strangely enough too, he ceases to ask anything that he genuinely wants or needs; and from then on their relationship would break down and it would always be like that. He would devolve his interests upon himself and even ceased to ask himself why. In my particular case, Lord Burlesdon in addition also taunted me by giving me a nickname ‘Sans argent agency’: which, I condescended, knowing my position that I had no inheritance from him to look forward to. I think from my earliest days I had developed an affinity with the helpless and the disadvantaged in that my greatest need is to be needed and I need to give as much as to receive. My place in the world, being in the midst of people, I deem it a blessing with regard to my peculiar environment because it had taught me well to relate as equals with people who are socially of a class below me, while, concerning my dealings with my superiors, I know how to show them deference and respect and maintain our relationships on easy, cordial and friendly terms.

My father was the Eighteenth Lord Burlesdon which is a hereditary title bestowed long ago by Elizabeth the First of the House of Tudor in 1583, and I am his second son. My brother, Robert, was the heir to all my father’s estates, revenues, chattels, miscellaneous properties, and sizeable and productive lands. I was packed off to Eton shortly before my seventh birthday and succeeded in distinguishing myself in going through the public school system. My father passed away six years ago; and Robert had therefore entered into his inheritance six years since; but I often thought of my late old father as still alive and of the present. He haunts me still in a strange way in all I do through a reflexive mental action which colors my every motivation, deed and thought and even personality and temperament by arousing a strong moral sense: something which I am happy to relate, also affects the new Lord Rassendyll of Burlesdon to a certain degree by us doing the opposite to what our deceased father would do. W.W.O.F.D.? What would our father do? is our moral yardstick we measure our actions, by following its precept in reverse. When A Prisoner of Zenda was begun, it had been in a semi-comic tone of humorous raillery, but, not so, in this sequel with which I continued my story left off from those days in laying bare the truth concerning myself, also, about all those whom I have left behind in Ruritania at the end of that same book, especially my little, sweet darling Flavia, who is now the real King Rudolf’s wife and belongs to him. To pick up from thence, my unrest following my decision to leave my beloved and return to England to take up the old life was indeed plummeting my soul to distraction, as most would have expected; in which an unabated chain of rhetorical questionings would at unexpected moments and even incontinent ones harass my thoughts and mood: ‘So, -- what if I was Flavia’s hero, everything she would like me to be? What am I to be, without her forever? What am I – to lose this love of mine?’ Though at first, I was excited by the reaction brought by my strong and noble resolve: and then, I was piqued. For, I had known nothing about or anticipate the sorrow of not seeing her tomorrow – and tomorrow – and tomorrow! Whether, a skein of swans was flying across the sunlit sky of a glorious warm and bedewed morning or whether it was pouring weather, there would be no Flavia to greet me with her sweet and beautiful smile, and sweeter, angelic and gentler words! She still turns me inside out, you see, and I could not get over her.

And then, in my thoughts I would ask myself as the rascal Detchard and the four others had been to Black Michael, am I to also be an unquestioning conformist? For, you see, these people were still lodged inside my brain, though all of them are dead except Rupert of Hentzau, who is very much alive, and then I had a feeling stealing over me that before everything was said and done, we must cross swords once again! Especially, as lately, there were reports in the newspapers that Rupert’s cousin, the Count of Rischenheim had been making waves at court and is showing himself almost too preeminently to be at Rupert’s beck and call.

But I am not a political man and the discrepant values of most unsavory politicians often left me high and dry. Though my father’s character and the self-serving, arrogant or devious men of the world who seek self-aggrandizement in Britain ought to have prepared me for living in the real world, my encounter with the expedient Duke Michael and his black-hearted cohorts was still something of a shock, for, something deep inside me had made me chafe and rebel with regard to their point of view, somehow! A spirit of chivalry and gallantry, having been stirred in my breast, I was longing for a nobler, bygone age other than this one of appreciating value of the Pound Sterling and ever-increasing prices of iron, beef, foods, timbers, fabric, household goods, imports, animals, and coal, that my heart gave me no rest. It was in responding to this impulse that I took my own initiative, when Sapt took me in hand and laid before me the role of a King for me to play when I first came to Ruritania; so, unsurprisingly, to me, my morals had to be brought to the proof when I had to exert self-control at certain crucial times to overcome these fleeting temptations; but, because, I can say I held my ground well, today, I can hold my head high!

In Ruritania, I was in the midst of an organized and cohesive social system as to be among noble aristocrats whom I admired and who had shouldered their responsibility well – like old Sapt and young Fritz – and these friends had, as a result, boosted my courage and underscored my altruistic motives. I was thus able to bring to the fore what was deep inside me, well beyond our own home ground context which made me understand the nature of a mature conscience and what it is to be a Christian in name and in fact. I was, therefore, proud that, in the end, I succeeded in bringing lasting honor to my family name and elevated those of all foreign English gentlemen in their regard though my deeds still had to remain a closed book to the eyes of the world. Be it as it may, I would like to point out -- though many times I yielded to the friendly pressure of these Ruritanian friends of mine, dear friends, whose remembrances are ever sacred to me -- I was thoroughly and fully myself and informed of myself: and Colonel Sapt, that old guard, has been and still is the shrewd and astute servant of the old European aristocracy, which had seen its hey-day. He had accorded me the respect due to a real hero of past ages by treating me as one, despite his tough-as-nails character and personality, and blunt, abrupt manners, though he always tried to hide this from others. They still had believed in manly heroism and gentlemanly gallantry as in England, though here, as elsewhere, the breed is slowly dying out. The new style of conduct – its diametric opposite – is embodied and fleshed in young Rupert, who, for his part in imprisoning the King has been banished from his own country only to return on pain of death; while his estates’ revenues had been impounded by the authorities, and so he is persisting in his feuds because he hated losing his incomes which had once been his and he cannot fail but to countenance vengeance. Fritz, himself, it was who had kept me informed on the latest developments and currents in Ruritanian politics and furthermore I have the habit of perusing the London and foreign newspapers. Flavia never wrote at all.

Therefore, from Fritz it was, I learned news of her. His letters were usually brief and succinct in details and generally about things of his social milieu, our friends, politics, and on a rare occasion or two – conveying in a quaint expression about the Queen’s well-being that had left me to grasp at its deeper meaning. As more letters came it became apparent that I was unforgettable to her too. But I could not come to her and she couldn’t come to me, being married to King Rudolf; and as we cannot change the moral law or play the deuce with public opinion – certainly, never either! -- there was no helping it. That was that!

I had spent last summer in our capital, and was rather tired of the interminable roar of London’s endless streets, its drifting music-hall ditties and hubbub, its huge, almost faceless crowds of people of every country and description; surging along the asphalt and its continuous flowing of vehicular traffics – cabmen, coaches with livery, heavy-laden dray horses, carts stacked with casks of ale and whiskey -- its odors from its private warehouses, public granaries, and arms manufactories, its redolence of eatables, and whatnot – so that even Italian and German operas, or evening bouts with Bohemian acquaintances in Soho -- did nothing to rejuvenate my jaded soul, nor did all the scientific exhibitions, philosophical inquiries in books or discussions in salons, conversations with the Literari, flower-shows, fetes, pamphlets, the Exchange, visits to museums and libraries, pleasuring in or along the River Thames, and every kind of activity that a man could think of to feed his senses! so that, Rose, my brother’s wife made the brusque remark that I looked strangely out of sorts and had developed a hangdog look. For a while, I had written and published poetry, as she suggested, and had interested myself in the art of photography, until, in trying to pander to my wandering fancies, she would often invite me to dine with Robert and herself at their many clubs and in fine restaurants all over the city, and afterwards, off to the West End theaters, but that too failed miserably. My brother observed that I needed a woman in my life to get out of my irregular existence and to make my paramour the first agreeable-looking, fresh-faced young girl which I was ready to fall in love with. I had developed a habit of wearing double-breasted, exceeding high collars: gray and brown twill jobs, in short: which were all the rage of high fashion: decked out with silver buttons, white silk waistcoats, and red or navy-blue cravats, together with black satin breeches and trousers and highly-greased top boots, and on my head, a black top hat, and was always seeking to replenish my wardrobe, my shoe-rack, hangers and stands with these; and appearing before raucous company (which I realized now I abhorred exceedingly) with both arms perpetually akimbo or trust deep into the pockets of my coat’s skirt; or a white kid gloved hand resting nervously under my chin, while be seated on a divan, taking no part in the conversation; I had been, in fact, fast losing my tact and high social polish. The Nineteenth Lord Burlesdon and his chic, pretty socialite wife did not in any basic and fundamental way have any need of my presence and, truth to tell, they really like me to stay with them a few months every year but I saw no point to impose myself upon their generous hospitality. When I was lodging with them, it was sufficient, they always go out of their way to be kind and making me comfortable and to be agreeable in intimate, heart-to-heart-talks; but I understand they have their own life of high society to live which kept them continuously busy; hence, according to my own principle, I don’t want to be around them all the time. Robert even charged me, one day, months ago, to marry the first beautiful woman with a long purse that I took rather a serious fancy to, to cure my phlegmatic humor and ‘stammering replies which had plagued me ever since I returned from that European excursion’ some years ago,-- as our observant Rose had bluntly put it.

My reasoning went, ‘Who has a need for me?' The answer was automatic without hesitation or any need to speculate, ‘The one who loves me! – The one who cannot live or exist without me. – Someone whose life is rendered utterly meaningless and without joy and air without me!' Are there any such persons in England? No! Where is this person? In Ruritania! Who is this person? Flavia!

Flavia! The reader does not know the thrill the sound of that name awakes in my heart. Flavia! If I could only see her one last time, the bitterly cold nights would have been better. To know that she still loves me after all this time was sheer torture in regard to what she has to endure; and to know that she still endures it every day, -- why it fairly drives a full-blooded man fairly insane with pain! Oh, the sheer waste – the sheer waste of good love!

Each correspondence I received from Fritz was wildly anticipated: I would be in a fever of emotional delirium before I receive the promised next one. When the first one of great significance came very cordially worded, I plumbed its meaning behind his salutation with its references to the Queen that had been conveyed through his pen. Three months later, the second similar letter arrived bidding me to come to Dresden at such and such a date and on such and such a train. ‘The Queen has something for you,' the message detailed. And I was also given to understand that Fritz would come this time himself and play the role of royal courier. Also, I was advised to be careful and to be circumspect; for he warned me that the enemies of Ruritania had a network of spies about.

To all Ruritania’s citizens it had been the King who had triumph over his half-brother, Black Michael, and the Duke’s hirelings for none of the part I played could be rightly ascribed to me. Hence, I would go to Dresden once again: and once again, on the same pretext to go to see the pictures and I had caught myself thinking that despite Fritz’s cautionary words being close to the Ruritanian border would do my languishing soul a world of good! Yes: I will once again be an unknown and nondescript fellow, yet, fully resolved in not failing to take every necessary precaution so that the Queen’s good name and reputation mightn’t be jeopardized – because, undertaking her plan will no doubt entail no mean risk with regard to her position.

However, at the back of my mind, memories of my deceased father haunted me. He was only half an honorable, upright, and blameless man but assumed semblances of all these to outside people; but, to my mother his true husband-like honor was punctilious: thus, ironically, in this I truly admire his lights, and so likewise, I told myself, enthusiastically, I must -- I will -- be good and upright. For, regarding being faithful to his marriage he was a towering man without any trace of any nonsense whatever about him. But, otherwise, will my father come around this time, I wonder?

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tabloidtoc · 6 years ago

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People, August 5

Cover: Selma Blair’s life with multiple sclerosis

Page 1: Chatter -- Laura Dern on Meryl Streep, Jason Momoa, Nicole Kidman, Tyra Banks on Naomi Campbell, Billy Porter, Alex Rodriguez

Page 2: 5 Things We’re Talking About This Week -- Celebs age themselves with FaceApp, Gossip Girl gets a sequel, the Cats trailer ignites a feline frenzy, Austin Butler will play Elvis Presley, Tom Cruise still feels the need for speed

Page 4: Contents

Page 7: Mailbag, This Week in People History -- Olivia Newton-John in 1978

Page 8: StarTracks -- The Week’s Cutest Couples -- Sofia Vergara and Joe Manganiello

Page 9: Mariah Carey and Bryan Tanaka, Priyanka Chopra Jonas and Nick Jonas, Cardi B and Offset

Page 10: Comic-Con -- Angelina Jolie, Taron Egerton and Richard Madden, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Linda Hamilton, Game of Thrones alums Nikolas Coster-Waldau and Conleth Hill and Liam Cunningham and Jacob Anderson and John Bradley and Maisie Williams and Isaac Hempstead Wright

Page 12: Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka and their twins with the cast of Phantom of the Opera Jay Armstrong Johnson and Ben Crawford and Eryn LeCroy, pregnant Shay Mitchell, The Bachelotette Hannah Brown, Justin Theroux

Page 14: Stars On Set -- Ariana DeBose and David Alvarez of West Side Story, Kevin James in Hubie Halloween, Marisa Tomei, Jamie Doran in Barb and Star Go to Visit Del Mar

Page 17: Alexander Skarsgard and Kirsten Dunst in On Becoming a God in Central Florida, StyleTracks -- Stripes -- Emily Ratajkowski, Garcelle Beauvais, Andie MacDowell, Sophie Turner, Ruth Wilson, Hailey Baldwin

Page 19: Beyonce’s big moves with daughter Blue Ivy

Page 20: Miranda Lambert’s summer of love

Page 22: Heart Monitor -- KJ Apa and Britt Robertson new couple, Katy Perry and Orlando Bloom wedding planning, Kristen Stewart and Stella Maxwell back on, Anne Heche and Thomas Jane dating

Page 24: Is Leonardo DiCaprio ready to settle down with Camila Morrone, The Bachelorette’s JoJo Fletcher and Jordan Rodgers getting ready to wed

Page 27: Pete Wentz’s has listed his L.A. hacienda-style house for sale, Descendants director Kenny Ortega remembers Cameron Boyce

Page 28: Sarah Hyland and Wells Adams -- inside their romantic engagement

Page 31: Stories to Make You Smile

Page 33: Passages, Why I Care -- Sheryl Sandberg helps students in need pay for college through a program in memory of her late husband

Page 35: People Picks -- Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood

Page 36: Molly of Denali, One to Watch -- Four Weddings and a Funeral’s Nikesh Patel

Page 37: Mike Wallace Is Here, The Boys, Q&A -- Laura Prepon

Page 38: Veronica Mars, Binge these Emmy-Nominated hits -- Dead to Me, Chernobyl, Escape at Dannemora

Page 39: Pennyworth, Beyonce + Various Artists -- The Lion King: The Gift

Page 41: Books, Q&A -- George Takei

Page 42: Cover Story -- Selma Blair -- my sickness helped me recognize my strength

Page 50: A serial killer in Atlanta? The mysterious murders of more than two dozen children terrified Atlanta 40 years ago and now police are trying to make sure they have the right man behind bars

Page 54: Prince George turns 6

Page 56: Stars have been flocking to these European hot spots this summer -- Eva Longoria and son Santiago, Sofia Vergara and Joe Manganiello

Page 57: John Legend and Chrissy Teigen, Gabrielle Union and Dwyane Wade, Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Julianne Hough and Brooks Laich

Page 58: David Crosby -- the man who’s seen and done it all

Page 62: The facts about flesh-eating bacteria

Page 65: Lizzo -- the beloved body-positive rapper and singer opens up about her steady rise to fame and self-love

Page 72: 50 companies that care

Page 95: Second Look -- Dave Chappelle

Page 96: One Last Thing -- Angela Bassett

#tabloid #selma blair #multiple sclerosis

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myrooks · 8 years ago

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Hush A Bye Baby Chapter 3

Oh my goodness this is beyond late, but hopefully the fluff found in this chapter will make it up to you all :’)

This was quite the beast to write as it kinda dragged for me. But it’s important stuff. Next chapter will be much more exciting though, I assure you all ;)

hint hint that’s where you (the reader) may finally be meeting Jacob

But without further ado, here you go my lovelies!

Nothing but embers had been left to burn in the fireplace. The early morning air was crisp and chilly, a frost even covering the windows of the train as it continued its trail down the tracks. The melodic chugging of the wheels intermingled with the occasional whistle the engine gave, the distant sounds of the busy city trickling in to make their way to the man’s ears.

He had fallen asleep sitting- in Evie’s chair, no less. As he slowly became conscious to the world, what truly caught his attention, however, was how he instantly noticed how he had never felt so warm. The second thing he acknowledged was the unknown weight to his chest too, which also prompted Jacob to twitch his fingers. He could honestly barely feel the added weight in the first place, but all the same his digits still felt numb due to whatever force had been sitting on his arm, and he couldn’t understand what was lying on top of him, that is, until like a waterfall, all the memories from last night splashed down onto his mind.

Maisy.

And then he felt it- what he now realized being her tiny body shifting against his chest, a pair of thin and frail arms wrapping around his neck as the hair from her head tickled against his skin.

He blinked open his eyes, his body being promptly forced awake. His hazel hues instantly locked onto her form, any fatigue he would usually feel upon waking flying from his body as he quickly rubbed the sleep from his golden irises. Apparently, she must have awoken before him, as the second Jacob turned his head to look down at her, she picked up her own gaze to stare at him.

Cold and pale stony-grey once more clashed against the man’s warm green and golden-brown hues. For a moment he couldn’t utter a single word, the memories from last night heavy on his mind. All she did was stare at him, with those large, innocent eyes. It took him a second before he could manage to utter a single sound from his throat.

“Good morning, Maisy.” His tone was hoarse from just waking up, causing him to clear his throat as he then gave the little girl a soft smile. She gave him no reaction, however, her pale orbs only flickering around his face in a somewhat curious manner. She didn’t even smile at him. That worried him. Could she possibly just not understand what he was saying? He believed her to be around two years old; did toddlers at such a young age even have that extensive of a vocabulary? Or perhaps being out in the cold had truly made her sick- and his heart leapt for a moment as he considered that.

The concern suddenly ignited within his eyes, his upper body sitting up straight as the infant slid down his chest to gingerly have her weight shift to his lap. Her hands still clung to the front of his waistcoat, however, as her eyes remained locked onto his features, and the hand that now began to tingle with feeling again rested on her lower back, while his other hand cradled the back of her head.

“Are you feeling alright?” The sincerity was clear in his voice. He only had to worry for a half a second longer too, before Maisy finally responded to him, her still dirtied face moving up and down as she gently nodded. He almost wanted to sigh in relief. That meant she did understand him, but said feelings of relief were only partial. He couldn’t help but notice how the tiny brunette was still acting distant. The worry almost didn’t want to seem to fade, and he briefly wondered if this is what being a parent truly felt like. Was it normal to worry this much over the tiniest things?

“Would you like some breakfast then, darling?” He tried his luck once again, giving Maisy a comforting and tender smile as he spoke gently to her. He also didn’t really understand where it was coming from, but his hand almost seemed to move on it’s own accord as he lightly stroked her hair, brushing the strands out of her face and moving a few pieces behind her ears.

Maybe he should have mentioned food earlier, for that clearly caused the reaction he was looking for. He watched as Maisy nodded once more at him, but this time with a beloved smile that almost seemed to make his heart instantaneously melt. Seeing it alone made his own lips widen into a toothy grin, the warmth that was starting to become familiar to him now tugging at his heart.

He was also beginning to understand that perhaps Maisy was just shy. The poor little thing was acting so timid, which he could understand, of course. It made him wonder if that would break at some point, or if that was just who Maisy was. Only time would tell him the answer to that one. For now, though, he was just glad Maisy was okay, and that she had a basic understanding of English. That surely saved him from an immense amount of trouble.

“Well, then, shall we?” Jacob playfully asked, moving his hands to pick the little girl up from under her arms. She merely continued to smile at him as he finally stood from the chair, his muscles and bones stretching in pleasure as he finally moved for the first time since last night.

Jacob shuffled Maisy to sit on his forearm again as the brunette comfortably grabbed the Englishman’s chest as he straightened himself. As he began walking through Evie’s train car, the man couldn’t help how he released a loud yawn as he arched his back, stretching himself out completely as he finally blinked away any lingering fatigue.

If that didn’t wake him up, however, the nice cold gust of wind from Evie swinging open the car door directly in front of him sure did.

He swiftly felt Maisy cling to him, and whether it was from the cold or fright he couldn’t tell, but either way, he may as well have been up for hours with how his senses instantaneously sharpened, his reaction immediate.

Without a second thought his free hand came up to create an almost protective shield as it lied completely across the little girl’s back. He couldn’t help how he also gave Maisy a worried glance, entirely ignoring Evie’s entrance into the cart. Evie, of course, was quick to notice her twin was finally awake, promptly shutting the door behind her. Jacob just barely managed to peel his eyes away from Maisy at the noise, finally acknowledging Evie- and how she was already dressed for the day too. Of course.

“Oh, good morn-ing-” Evie began to say, but she faltered as she spoke, a hand flying to her lips as a sudden mirth sparkled in her eyes. Oh goodness, she most certainly hadn’t been expecting this. Evie, quite honestly, might have to say for one of the first few times in her life had been completely, and utterly, caught off guard.

She couldn’t help it. Stumbling upon the sight of her brother, his normally slick, smoothed back hair a ruffled mess that stuck up in odd places coupled with the sight of the two of them, staring at her owlishly- for by then Maisy had even turned her head to shyly stare at the intrepid sister, the toddler curious about the newcomer. Maisy and Jacob were still clearly dazed from just waking, and as she stood there, taking the image of the two of them in, it was just, too cute.

Jacob, for once, had no idea what Evie was thinking, only left to raise a suspicious and confused eyebrow as he watched her fail at trying to contain her laughter. His eyes flickered across his twin, wondering just what in the world was so funny.

“What?”

Jacob’s brow had even furrowed by then, completely at a loss for what had possibly amused his sister so much. The hand Evie had hovering near her face was placed on her chest briefly as she controlled herself, her laughter finally dying as she went to go answer Jacob instead.

“Nothing. I’ll go see what Agnes is planning for breakfast.” Despite her short answer, the smile Evie wore coupled with her clearly amused tone indicated to Jacob that it was most definitely not just nothing. Even with the suspicious glint in his eye as he watched his elusive sister turn back once more towards the door, Jacob couldn’t help himself as he decided to play along with Evie’s game. He wasn’t about to let her have the upper hand. He quickly glanced down at Maisy.

“That, my darling, was Aunt Evie, and in case you didn’t notice, she also happens to be a little nuts.” Jacob stated with a sugary-sweet, innocent tone, showing he was only saying such a thing in order for Evie to hear and ultimately, become annoyed at.

“Jacob Frye! I heard that!”

Obviously, it worked.

Now it was Jacob’s turn to laugh, his chest rumbling with a chuckle as Evie probably mumbled yet another complaint about her incorrigible little brother as she made her way out of the train car. If asked, Jacob couldn’t say he was even aware Evie had said anything as the door shut behind her. What he was truly aware of was the most adorable twinkling sound that had ever happened to reach his ears.

It took him a second to realize it, but Maisy was giggling.

Immediately, the man gave her an incredulous look as his eyebrows shot up. He could have sworn he felt his heart clench- but in a good way.

“Oh? You thought that was funny?” He couldn’t help but ask, part of his tone truly holding disbelief, but the other completely and utterly teasing. It was brief- much too brief, and as Jacob gazed upon the smiling infant in his arms he wondered if he could elicit such a noise from her again.

He wouldn’t have to think too long, for upon his inspectful gaze Maisy shyly glanced away, her smile becoming wider as she buried her face in Jacob’s side. And then he heard it again.

The twinkling of little glass bells.

Jacob could never explain it, but the immense amount of joy that flowed through him upon hearing the sound could only be released by the laughter that erupted from his own lips. Apparently, their merriment seemed to fuel each other’s, for as the Assassin even briefly threw his head back he could easily hear Maisy’s giggling become stronger as his chest vibrated from the glee he expelled.

It was then that something- something that felt so inherent, so integral to his being, surged vehemently all of a sudden within him, and Jacob was powerless against the outright yanking to his heart.

Gingerly, he hoisted Maisy up higher against him, causing her to raise her head to look at him. She had a full-blown toothy grin by now, the soft twinkling still ongoing. He couldn’t remember a time where his cheeks practically hurt from how wide it caused him to smile.

And then, as if he had done it a thousand times before, with his lips still set in a wide smile he leaned down and planted a large, loud, loving kiss to her cheek. Her reaction was instant. Her giggling just turned into straight up laughter, and she even let out a tiny squeal of happiness, one of her little hands coming up to touch the scruff on Jacob’s chin, before resting her chin to her chest and retracting both her hands to her neck, as if she were guarding it. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out- the scruff of his facial hair had clearly tickled her when he went to kiss her, and at that point, Jacob was sure his heart had completely and utterly melted.

There was no stopping him then, the fondness shining so brightly in his gaze, and the warmth blossoming across his chest and squeezing all the love from his heart as he got lost in the moment, playfully leaning in once more.

“Oh no, is somebody ticklish-“

Jacob quickly muttered in a heavily mischievous tone before his lips were upon her again. Maisy tried to lean away as she squealed once more, Jacob delivering a series of obnoxiously loud, playful and affectionate kisses to her cheeks. He didn’t care that she was still filthy. Any dirt he got on him was meaningless compared to the absolute bliss the lovable kisses provided for both him and Maisy.

The man was finally forced to relent when Maisy, through all her laughing and squealing, decided to unexpectedly throw her arms around Jacob’s neck, rapidly burying her features against his skin. He would have thought he might have offended her, with how sudden her actions were, if it weren’t for her own playfully giggling he still heard, indicating that was her way of ‘hiding’ from him. Feeling her tiny nose rub against his neck, coupled with the fading sounds of her twinkling merriment, he couldn’t help it as he just stood there, taking it all in as he let the awe and the love just wash over him. Jacob Frye had never felt like this before. He had never felt so full of joy, of this kind.

He had always heard of the cliché warm, fuzzy feelings people would get during sentimental moments, and quite frankly he would make fun of them- but now, he realized it was no joke. This was the farthest thing from a joke for him. Nothing before had ever felt so… real to him.

His smile was nothing but tender then, Jacob’s gaze glancing down at Maisy as his hand gingerly moved to rest between her shoulder blades.

“Alright, my little one, Daddy promise’s he’s done now.” His tone was soft and sweet, her hair once more tickling underneath his chin. All she did in response was nuzzle into him, and if anything, that just made him want to take her adorable, tiny chubby face into his hand and kiss her even more, but the man knew better. It was time to start the day. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t play with Maisy later, of course.

Already looking forward to such a thought, Jacob then trekked through the train cars, making sure to keep their exposure outside to a minimum. Even with just the few seconds of being outside, though, Jacob could feel the chill go straight to his bones. There was no way this could be good for Maisy. A slight frown had made its way to his face as he finally made it to where Agnes normally served the twins breakfast.

He was already thinking about it since last night, but this train was obviously no place to raise a child. Jacob was no fool. There was not only no room, but it was completely unsafe and nothing but impractical. It served Jacob and Evie well, but as for Maisy… Jacob knew it wouldn’t do. The man might have just the solution to such a problem as well.

“It’s about time you two showed up.”

Jacob instantly looked up to see Evie was already sitting at the table situated against the side of the dining cart, her dainty fingers holding up the day’s newspaper. Her eyes never left the page, allowing Jacob the freedom to casually roll his eyes at her without hearing some form of rebuttal. He would have verbally made a quip right back at her too, just as he usually did, if it weren’t for the Assassin suddenly noticing what had been placed upon the table.

His plate was clearly already waiting for him, still steaming with some warm crumpets, fresh eggs and even a few links of sausage. The jam, milk, tea, and sugar were also already placed on the side. Nothing out of the norm, that is, except for the small bowl next to his full of what he quickly identified as oatmeal.

Jacob almost gagged. He was aware that was definitely not for him. The last time he could ever remember having such a revolting thing was when he was twelve.

“So today’s breakfast consists of some lovely oatmeal?” He obviously teased, making a more disgruntled face as he made his way over to his chair. It was then the man also realized Maisy wouldn’t be able to sit on her own. She was much too small. If she were to try sitting in a dining chair in a normal manner, her head would barely rise above the table. Perhaps that’s why Evie didn’t bother pulling up a third chair, and had placed Maisy’s breakfast right next to his. He nearly wanted to sigh at what she was insinuating.

How was it that she always seemed to be one step ahead of him?

“I’m assuming you’re not wanting to partake in this, are you?” Jacob’s voice carried over to Evie as he pulled out his chair. His eyes locked with her own over the newspaper as Maisy slipped from his grasp as her feet met with the hard seat. It didn’t need to be stated for her to understand what Jacob was referring to.

“I will help, but Maisy is ultimately your responsibility. If you’re truly choosing to take care of her, you must learn how to do so.” Evie’s answer was blunt, and she quickly went back to reading as soon as she was done answering Jacob. The man most certainly got her message, and held back from quipping back to her. It would only lead to a much more involved conversation, and it was one he was nowhere near in the mood to have right now. For the moment he decided to just remain satisfied with his sister’s response, wanting to keep the mood light as he instead glanced between Maisy and the table.

“Well, in terms of being helpful, it seems we’re still not used to having a third guest, seeing as we do not even have a third glass.” Jacob mentioned, in a teasing, perhaps even passive-aggressive manner towards Evie as he pointed out the missing item on the table.

Evie just chose to ignore him, if anything merely giving a short roll of her eyes as she continued on reading the day’s paper. It was obvious Jacob was just trying to get under her skin, and that was something she wasn’t about to allow. “Alright, my dear-“ Jacob began, once more focusing his attentions back to Maisy as he allowed her form to fully slip from his arms. He didn’t really acknowledge the sudden hesitant look that crossed the little girl’s features, however, Jacob already turning to walk over to the cabinets.

“No-!”

All the muscles in his body tensed. His gaze snapped back, glancing down to his arm, where he felt her tiny fingers wrap around his sleeve in a death grip. In an instant his golden irises zoned in on the distressed look Maisy gave. What on earth-?

“-What’s wrong darling?” Jacob quickly asked, still rooted to the spot. He noted how she now tried clinging to his arm; Jacob forced to lean down slightly, for if he moved any farther out she would fall right off the edge of the chair and onto the floor.

“Daddy-”

The Assassin practically felt the stabbing pang within his chest with the broken way Maisy uttered his new title. The word was nothing more than a sob, and the concern completely washed over the man’s features the moment he realized Maisy was practically on the verge of crying.

It was also then, Jacob realized- with the way she clung to him, it was quite clear that she merely couldn’t bear to have Jacob leave her, even if it was just a few steps. Such a discovery only served to make the pain in his chest wrap around his lungs tighter, as it confirmed all the more his suspicions of her being abandoned. Oh, if only he knew who the bastard was…

“Darling, daddy’s right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Jacob’s voice was soft and reassuring as his body leaned down on one knee before her own, his hands grabbing her tiny fingers. His palms completely engulfed Maisy’s, the man bringing her knuckles up to his lips where he planted a tender kiss upon each one.

“Daddy wouldn’t leave you,” He began to say, a warm smile upturning his lips in an effort to reassure the toddler that everything was okay. Hoping he had gotten his point across, his form straightened again, despite Maisy instantly beginning to whine in protest. It took all of Jacob’s will power to continue backing away from the little girl, especially with the way she reached out to him the second he let go of her little hands.

“I’m right here, I’m just getting you a cup darling-“ unfortunately for Jacob, Maisy’s whining didn’t lighten as he hoped it would when he finally reached the cabinet. Despite his goal being clear the little girl was completely ignorant to Jacob’s intentions, only focused on the gap between them as her whine finally developed into an outright cry, her gray-blue orbs glazing over.

“No, no! Sweetheart-!” Jacob had managed to get the cup like he wanted, but it came with a cost. Apparently her separation anxiety was far worse than he thought. His form was back at Maisy’s side in record time, engulfing her in a hug as the toddler latched on to his neck. The Frye twin could physically feel his heart splintering in two as she relentlessly began to sob, Jacob unable to do nothing more but hoist her against his chest and into his arms as he slid into the seat. Unbeknownst to Jacob, Evie had been watching the whole scene as she peered over her paper, and finally seeing the distress paint over her brother’s features, she could watch on no longer.

With a subtle, sad sigh of her own Evie rose from her seat, even surprising Jacob as she walked over to his side. He truly had no idea what she was up to, that is, until he saw her pick up the oatmeal, and taking a spoonful she placed it in front of Maisy’s mouth.

“Here you are. You want some yummy food, don’t you?” The woman cooed, and with the way the infant cried the twins both thought such a tactic wouldn’t work, if Maisy hadn’t proved them wrong, that is.

All it took was her gaze to lock on to the spoon, and assuming Maisy finally had a chance to smell her breakfast of cinnamon and apple infused mush, instantly decided on shoving the oatmeal into her mouth, cutting off her own crying.

“Good girl. Would you like some more?” Evie praised with a pleased smile. Maisy still had tears falling down her face, and whined between her chewing, but it was clear her attention was quickly becoming focused on the food in her mouth verses her sadness. She nodded to the female Assassin’s question, her chubby hands now reaching out over Jacob’s shoulder for the bowl.

Before she could truly grab it, of course, Jacob was already doing so, Maisy watching the food like a hawk as her tears had now fully dissolved into sniffling. The man felt a swell of relief, but it was only partial- his heart still heavy as he simultaneously wiped the little girl’s face with his thumb while helping her spoon the oatmeal into her mouth.

“There you are…” Jacob’s soft words trailed off under his breath, Evie going back to her seat as her brother finally allowed a small smile to grace his lips. “… I’m not going anywhere, my little Maisy…” He continued to mutter reassuringly, but the soft smile on his face was deceived by the despair that was hidden in his gaze.

Evie of course could see right through the man, knowing full well how large Jacob’s heart was- and knowing that was exactly why he was currently experiencing so much pain. She could see it as plain as day from across the table, unable to help herself in wondering how often his compassion would truly be the end of him if it weren’t for her. But, that’s also why Evie wasn’t surprised at Jacob’s next set of words as Maisy seemed to finally get a hang of shoving the spoon into her mouth on her own.

“So, as you know, the train isn’t exactly the most suitable place to raise a child.” Neither of them made eye contact as he spoke, as Evie knew where Jacob was heading. They were twins, after all, and chances are they shared the same thoughts about the situation as they both drifted off to sleep last night. But, that’s not to say Evie still had her own desire of ensuring Jacob knew that life did not suddenly grind to a halt at his recent findings.

“Your food is getting cold.”

“Evie.”

“What? You wish to use the flat- then use it.” Evie only gave her twin a brief glance before going back to reading her newspaper. Jacob couldn’t help but raise a brow. Was his sister actually… agreeing with him?

“So, you think it’s a good idea then?” The man curiously asked, absentmindedly stroking Maisy’s hair as he spoke.

“None of this is a good idea, Jacob.” Evie plainly stated, which in turn unsurprisingly caused Jacob to roll his eyes with a sigh.

“And yet it’s so odd how nearly every time you’ve told me that it’s those exact ideas-“ Jacob suddenly cut himself off as he subconsciously glanced down at the toddler in his lap-

-Only to find his sentence dying in his throat. All the annoyance instantaneously evaporated from him. Instead, nothing but an amused smile graced his features as he swiftly grabbed a napkin.

“Do try to get the food in your mouth, darling, not around it.” He mentioned, and it was then the infant stopped stuffing her mouth to look up at him. Her large, sparkling eyes paired with her stuffed cheeks covered with bits of sticky oatmeal did nothing but serve to make him chuckle. Clearly, Maisy was not enjoying his amusement, quickly shoving his hand away with the napkin as she wiped at her face with a pout. Almost as if to spite him she then ate the oatmeal off her hands before going back to now rightfully using her spoon.

Jacob was also not the only one who was amused by Maisy either, Evie finally cracking a smile of her own as she watched the little girl begrudgingly obey her brother with a feisty glare.

“Oh my, with that look you better watch out now, Jacob Frye.” Evie couldn’t help but state, causing Jacob to glance between Maisy and his sister, before scoffing.

“Oh please, like a toddler will be what causes me to admit defeat.” The man confidently answered, even leaning his broad shoulders back, his muscular bicep hanging over the back of the chair as he offered his sister his trademark smirk-

A sudden burp cut off any and all conversation.

For once, both twins were caught off guard as their eyes swiftly locked on to the tiny toddler.

“Maisy!” Evie incredulously stated, Jacob unable to help himself as he threw his head back, laughing wholeheartedly.

“Well, at least we know she enjoyed the food!” The man amusingly commented, before finally being reminded to reach for his own breakfast. He ultimately began with one of the crumpets on his plate, ignoring the still shocked expression of his sister as he went to spread some butter on it- that is, before a tiny pair of hands suddenly appeared to try and grab at his food.

“Oh? Would you like to try some?” Jacob asked, wondering if Maisy may still be hungry.

“Start with this, sweetheart.” The man motioned, breaking off a small piece of the crumpet before handing it to the curious infant. Within seconds he then proceeded to take the rest and go stuff it in his mouth- before Evie suddenly clearing her throat stopped him in his tracks.

“Jacob.” The female Assassin merely said, her azure gaze simultaneously glancing between his wide, open mouth and Maisy’s own. The man instantly became aware the girl was copying him, trying to shove a much too large piece of bread into her mouth.

“Oh. Right.” With an unsure smile upturning his lips, he quickly pulled his arm back, braking off yet another piece of his crumpet, politely popping it in his mouth instead. He then smiled down at Maisy, watching her doing the exact same as she too, glanced up at him with an expectant smile of her own. There was no way he could help the chuckle that tickled in his throat at her actions, his hand coming to pat her head to praise her.

“Children are like sponges, Jacob. You must remember that. Everything you do, they follow.” The sound of Evie’s voice finally tore his gaze away from Maisy, his smile fading. Jacob couldn’t help but raise a brow at her words, truly pondering them as he glanced to the side wearily.

“God, I hope not. But speaking of sponges…” The Assassin trailed off, finally remembering the tasks he had to do today. He cracked an almost guilty looking smirk, locking his gaze with Evie’s own.

“Do you think you can do some shopping while I give the little one here a bath? Or would you like-“

“I will be back.” Before he could even finish, Evie was setting down the newspaper and heading for the door. Perfect.

Jacob chuckled triumphantly to himself as she made her way out of the car, as he was right in assuming his sister would take the bait. He didn’t know the first thing in what to buy Maisy, especially when it came to dresses or other girly things. Hell, he didn’t know what toddlers needed in general, let alone a female toddler.

But then, his chuckle fizzled out in milliseconds, realization washing over his face.

He had also never given any child- or person for that matter, a bath in his entire lifetime. And the only other person who could possibly help him in giving one to Maisy had just walked out the door.

He took one glance down at the tiny brunette, locking eyes with her. The sticky oatmeal from her breakfast was still smeared around her lips.

“Oh, damn it all.”

#my writings #Assassin's Creed Syndicate #Jacob Frye #Assassin's Creed Syndicate fanfiction #jacob frye x reader #reader insert #HABB #HABB three

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Star, September 7

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Prince Harry bombshell: his mother Princess Diana was murdered

Page 1: Todd Chrisley aging backward -- the reality star is withholding the real story behind his new look

Page 2: Contents, Pink

Page 3: WOW! Roundup of the week’s WTF moments and other funny business -- a shelter cat named Dennis Quaid has found his forever home with the actor who shares his name, Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez can now call Star Island in Miami Beach home

Page 4: Things keep going from bad to worse for Ellen DeGeneres -- already reeling from having to address allegations that her talk show is a toxic workplace behind the scenes the embattled host was hit with more alarming news when police determined that the recent burglary at her $27 million mansion in Montecito was an inside job

Page 5: With top dog Simon Cowell sidelined with a broken back America’s Got Talent judge Heidi Klum has been grabbing the reins at the reality show which resumed taping last week and although she shares equal billing with fellow judges Howie Mandel and Sofia Vergara you wouldn’t know it from the way she’s acting, Demi Moore is thoroughly enjoying herself in her starring voice-actor role in Dirty Diana which is a steamy new podcast that explores the world of female erotica but her three daughters want her to walk the talk and hook up with a real man of her own since she hasn’t had a boyfriend since her split from Ashton Kutcher in 2011 amid rumors he was cheating, his character on This Is Us is on a path to redemption but in real life Justin Hartley is looking like a bit of a heel in his split from Chrishell Stause because in an emotional scene on the new season of her reality series Selling Sunset Chrishell tearfully revealed that she’d learned via text that he was calling it quits on their marriage and added that she was so blindsided by the message that she thought it must be a joke

Page 6: Madonna has had a dismal career in movies but maybe that’s because she wasn’t sharing her own story but now she has been working with acclaimed filmmaker Diablo Cody to translate her colorful life to the big screen and from her famous feuds to her A-list affairs Madonna is set to reveal all -- Sean Penn and Warren Beatty and Michael Jackson and Dennis Rodman are just a few of the guys she’s been with not to mention her beefs with Elton John and Lady Gaga, since 2014 Seth Rogen and his wife Lauren Miller have quietly been assembling an eight-acre compound in L.A.’s Hollywood Hills because he wants his privacy and he’s going to get it, Star Spots the Stars -- Halle Berry, Jennifer Hudson, Kristin Cavallari, Aubrey Plaza, Eiza Gonzalez, Kylie Jenner, Vanessa Hudgens

Page 8: Star Shots -- Beach Daze -- celebrities shore enjoy their time at the seaside -- Jennifer Lahmers in Santa Monica, Sofia Richie paddleboarding, Gavin Rossdale in Santa Monica

Page 9: Birthday girl Cara Santana, Alessandra Ambrosio plays beach volleyball

Page 12: Pregnant Chrissy Teigen out with son Miles, Mindy Kaling, Iggy Azalea at the cover-art shoot for her new single DLNW

Page 13: Josephine Skriver on the set of her Maybelline commercial, pregnant Emma Roberts shows off one of her Belletrist book club’s picks of the month

Page 14: A shirtless Nick Barrotta worked out between scenes for the second season of The Oval, Lucy Hale and her dog Elvis, Cristiano Ronaldo in swim trunks in St. Tropez

Page 16: Brooke Burke, Sarah Jessica Parker and one of her twin daughters at her new shoe store, Bella Hadid wore a mask while out in NYC

Page 17: Brandi Glanville washing her car

Page 18: Normal or Not? Steve-O’s recent publicity stunt of duct-taping himself to a billboard ended with the LAFD stepping in -- not normal, Shia LaBeouf paused his workout in Pasadena to point his fingers together -- normal, as her due date nears a fatigued Katy Perry rested her legs during a trip to a baby goods store -- normal

Page 20: Fashion -- stars make a statement in luxe jumpsuits -- Margot Robbie, Dakota Johnson

Page 21: Lana Condor, Saoirse Ronan, Taylor Swift

Page 24: Ewan McGregor’s big-bucks split -- the actor will pay half of his $40 million fortune to his ex-wife Eve Mavrakis

Page 25: Ana de Armas is cracking the whip on boyfriend Ben Affleck by dictating every move he makes from the people he hangs out with to potential projects and she even tells him what time to be home when he has a night out with friends and if Ben comes back any later than 9 p.m. Ana reads him the riot act, Zendaya and Jacob Elordi’s unconventional relationship has their inner circle worried because although they’ve enjoyed an open romance since meeting on the set of Euphoria some are beginning to suspect the arrangement suits Jacob more than Zendaya because Zendaya has serious feelings for Jacob but if you ask him theirs is a no-strings-attached relationship, Brooklyn Beckham and Nicole Peltz announced their engagement in July but the buzz is that they’ve already quietly tied the knot and are starting a family

Page 26: Cover Story -- Prince Harry’s heartbreak: they killed my mum -- twenty-three years after Princess Diana’s tragic death Prince Harry is being asked to set the record straight about what really happened to his beloved mother

Page 30: Britney Spears wants to be free -- finally going public with her desire to legally untangle her life from her father’s Britney faces disappointment in court and finds support online

Page 32: At home with Angelina Jolie -- as her divorce battle with Brad Pitt heats up in court Angie allows a glimpse into life under lockdown with her boisterous brood of six

Page 34: They Found Their Match -- when it comes to fashion these dress-alike duos really know how to double down -- Cardi B and Offset, Dua Lipa and Anwar Hadid, Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner

Page 35: Melissa McCarthy and husband Ben Falcone, Jeff Goldblum and wife Emilie Livingston, Maisie Williams and boyfriend Reuben Selby, Gabrielle Union and Dwyane Wade and daughter Zaya, Emily Ratajkowski and husband Sebastian Bear-McClard, Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton

Page 36: Style -- Beachy Keen swimsuits

Page 38: Health -- fitness helpers -- Vanessa Hudgens

Page 40: Entertainment

Page 41: Fall movie entertainment special

Page 48: Parting Shot -- Chelsea Handler cheekily captioned this booty shot I’m an actual peach

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