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blondecarfucker · 5 years

Text

Bed of Roses (Chapter 14)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: I'm sorry.

Words: 3800ish

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ACT TWO - NIGHT

“Everything is more intense at night.”

Chapter 14

It was already summer, a month and a half later, when Roger woke up with Ticket To Ride, by The Beatles, in his head. Y/N was all settled to move to New York in the next afternoon, the last month being a nightmare of packing and getting her parents to prepare her room; Rog and you barely saw each other, between Roger wrapping up the album with the band and you moving her things out.

You didn't pack everything. Your crystals, from your hippier phase, were all around the house, along with your essential oils and incenses. It made Roger sad to see that he missed the part where you gave up on caring so much about these things - he didn't even knew what you were into now.

Whenever he was home, you was out, working with the researcher and meeting with your new bosses. You never took him to meet them, and he tried not to be bothered, but he was.

He knew he had no right to be mad; he also stopped taking you to Queen promotions. Poppy was in each and every one of their meetings and interviews, intoxicating him with her french perfume, blinding him with her diamonds - she always had them on her, rings, bracelets, necklaces.

She would always find a way to touch him, her long nails and cold hands contrasting with your short and warm ones. She was the complete opposite of what you were right now. She still had mystique - something a long relationship took from both you and Roger. But he always told himself that yeah, maybe he was physically attracted to someone else, but that's okay - he was in a relationship, not dead! - as long as he didn't do anything about it. He wouldn't cheat on you again.

He kept a mental list of all the opportunities he had to flirt with Poppy and didn't; it was a defensive mechanism, almost as if he was already in a fight with you, trying to argue that he changed, he didn't cheat. His guilt was already flowing through his body, pumping along the blood through his veins.

He couldn't cope with the idea of you and Poppy in the same room. You were almost like two sides of him: Rog and Roger Taylor, boyfriend and rockstar - and one time he thought, and then censored himself - past and future. The two of you couldn't coexist.

The rest of the band noticed that Y/N was absent. When Deacy asked what happened, Roger told him everything - the graduation, you moving out and going back to New York. "Shouldn't you be spending more time together, then?" Veronica said, wrapped around John. And then Roger looked at the two of them - always in peace, always warm, Veronica always focused on being there for John and very little else - and he knew he would never have that, and he didn't knew if he wanted to. He always liked how you were independent of him, how you always had your goals and interests.

He noticed how that started to be less apparent in you as you tried to adapt to his life, as you tried to be more like Veronica or Chrissie. You'd be quiet, supportive, trying to fade into the background.

And that was not the girl he met at the pub. The girl who cheered on him watching her.

It was always good to play lovebirds, like you did in the little time you were spending together, and you did love each other. But none of you were in a good place now. Not a good place to make decisions.

Sadly, that's exactly what the two of you had to do.

She said that living with me

Is bringing her down yeah

For she would never be free

When I was around.

"Shut up, Lennon", Roger said to himself, putting the pillow over his head as if it would help muffle the music in his head.

He turned around and realized the bed was empty. You left already. You had a good time last night, a way to say goodbye already, but you were not there to have a last morning with him in your shared house.

You were already in the museum. Your boss told you to spend all your time helping Will in whatever he needed, but his research has been complete for the last two weeks. You were just talking about your childhoods and New York now. Listening to his accent, his lingering fragrance; it made you feel like home.

And you missed being home.

"Yeah, I went to St Jean Baptiste High School. We used to go out with the Loyola boys all the time", you told him, leaning over the table in which you were both having a Coke.

"Now that's interesting. In my Loyola days, the Jean Baptiste girls were very shy, very quiet. We had to put in a lot of effort to go out with them", he looked at you through his long lashes, chewing on his straw.

"Well, that's cause you're old", you said, and he laughed. "The sixties were more liberal, you know", you told him, raising your brow.

A giggle interrupted you two. "Hey, Y/N. Nice song your boyfriend put out… I'm In Love With My Car… Didn't knew you had weird nicknames for each other", one of the interns said, and you felt your cheeks blush. She could see that you were talking, quite closely, to another man - you refused to see it as flirting. You wouldn't cheat on Roger again.

You did spend too much time with Will, more than necessary, but he just felt so familiar and yet so new to what you were now used to. His accent, his clothes, the way he had a scruff - Roger was always clean shaven - and fluffy short hair. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, and you held your fingers down when that happened. It was like trying to stop yourself from rubbing your nose; the desire felt like second nature already.

"I guess we do", you answered the intern, annoyed that she mentioned your boyfriend in front Will. "But it's cute that he wrote a song for you… I guess. It's a bit raunchy, but maybe it's just how you are", she said, and left. It hurt you that you didn't have a song to prove that Roger did love you, very romantically, at least sometimes, but you had to play along with the intern to avoid a more embarrassing situation.

He could make things easier for you, you thought. But you censored yourself. Don't get annoyed at Roger while talking to Will about your city, you answered your own invasive thought.

"Hm, didn't knew you had a boyfriend", Will said, a bit cold. "Yeah, I do", you said, looking down. You could feel Roger's lips in your neck from last night, and you wondered if Will could see the mark they left.

The thing you and Roger would agree if you ever spoke to one another about your feelings - hell, you didn't even admit it to yourselves - was that your relationship felt a bit like a terminal patient. The diagnosis was when you took the job, or maybe when Roger decided to move to a fucking farm for months and leave you alone and vulnerable - again. You didn't knew, precisely, when the end began.

But as soon as it began, you both knew there was no way to save your relationship, just try to make it last as long as possible. The end was inevitable - you were both just waiting for it.

There was some good days - days when you felt like the in the beginning of the relationship, but grayer. There was nothing to be infatuated over anymore. You were growing bored of the parts you liked about each other, deep down. And scared of the new parts you were developing.

Roger was decided to make it a good day when he got off bed. He drove around, thinking of a way to impress you tonight - you were spending your last night away from each other, since the band had to perform in Brussels for some TV show. He invited you because he knew the answer; you couldn't. You had a last dinner to go to with your new bosses. A celebration. You invited him, knowing he couldn't cancel the promo. You said it was fine; it was not a goodbye, really. Just a see you soon.

He would still have you around him - the house had more of you in it than it had of him. But you would have nothing to remember him.

So he had an idea.

You came home to an empty house. Roger was not there, so you decided to get ready for the dinner. You took a bath, lighting up your rose scented candles, but this time, just for its smell.

You enjoyed crystals and oils and incenses and such because they gave you a sense of control - maybe if I put this rose quartz here, the living room will be a space we're being romantic, and if I light a rue incense in the bedroom, the place will be cleaned of bad energies - but now you didn't believe the universe gave you any opportunity to control your life, to have things your way. You were just trying to live one day at a time, at the moment.

You had no goals, not anymore. You didn't really knew who you were, now that you didn't knew where you wanted to go.

You heard a knock on the door, and you lift your head up from the headrest just as Roger walks in. "Hey, Y/N", he says, holding a small box on his hands.

"Hey, Rog", you say, and for old times sake, you smirk as you say "Care to join me?". But you know the answer.

"I'd love to. But I have to go to the label to catch our helicopter to Brussels", he says. "I got you something for your trip", he says and he gives you the box.

You open it and find a heart shaped, shiny red crystal pendant on a gold necklace. "It's beautiful, Rog", you tell him, and he shrugs. "I wish it was ruby, but yeah… Crystal will do for now. I can switch it for a ruby one later, if the album sells well", he says, and he brings in the memory of one of the last really, really good days you had. Before the farm and before your job and everything started to go downhill at a faster pace. When he said he wanted to provide for you. That he was in it for the long run.

"No, you don't have to. I love it", you say, and you move your gaze to meet his. You were then surprised with a realisation you didn't have for a few weeks now - how Roger could be sweet, how he'd go out of his way sometimes to show you that he cared, that he will do whatever it takes to make you happy.

"I love you", you say, looking at his blue eyes and not thinking about anything else - New York, Will, the fact that Roger barely invited you to spend time with him outside of the house, the fact that you felt like you had no way to make your relationship - or your life - work the way you wanted to. You just saw his eyes.

And you felt like the lost girl who just moved to London and was full of dreams, not only working at the British Museum, but belonging, finding out who she really is. All those dreams were purposely forgotten now, as you gave up on them. But those blue eyes made you remember why you obsessed over this guy, this fucking guy for over five months. And why you kept fighting for your life with him ever since the moment you met those eyes again, in a stall at Kensington Market.

Because those eyes, when looking at you honestly like they were now, are a powerful sight.

"I love you, Y/N" he said, and his voice trembled a bit as he started to talk again. "But there's a meaning to it; the heart. I know we're not in a good moment, you know. I know it. But I refuse to give up on us. I still remember how I felt when it started, how I never even knew I could feel this way with someone", he said, tears starting to fill his eyes, and you could feel yours mirroring his as he continued. "And I realized that I don't know if I will ever love someone like I love you. You have my heart", he said, gesturing to the necklace, "And this little expensive crystal is there so you can feel it with you", he said, and you wrapped your fingers around them. Because of the steam in the bathroom, it didn't feel cold. It was the same temperature as you.

"And I know that this is going to be hard, and we're in for some tough times in our relationship, maybe the hardest ones, but I love you. I don't want to deny myself from admitting that just so it hurts less if something happens to us. Cause even if it does, you still have my heart, and you can do whatever you want with it", he said, a tear rolling down his cheek. He didn't wipe it, so you moved your hand out of the bathtub to do it. "It's yours to keep", he completed, and you pulled him for a kiss.

It wasn't really a long kiss - your lips barely moved. You just wanted to know that the two of you were still there, together, present, at least for that moment. At least for that moment you both agreed to love each other in whatever way you could - you knew this was the end of an era for the two of you. You didn't knew what would follow it, but you were willing to admit that you loved one another. And, sometimes, this could be enough.

"I have to go", Roger told you, breaking the kiss. "Can you help me put the necklace on before you go?" You tell him, turning around in the bathtub and twisting your hair up.

He smiled as he helped you. "Beautiful", he said, and he really took in the sight of you, flushed face as the steam moved up from the bath bubbles to your cheeks, the necklace making your lips more pink.

"Will you take me to the airport tomorrow?" you asked, and he nodded. "I'll be back before noon", he told you, giving you a peck on the lips before going out of the door.

And you didn't know it yet, but just like a terminal patient, your relationship had Last Good Days, or better, Last Good Moments. This was it.

Roger laughed with one of the studio heads, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a cigarette in the other, as he watched Poppy watch him from the other side of the hotel bar. She was completely comfortable in her seat, exuding power. This was were she felt comfortable in. She looked like a tigress resting on her velvet armchair.

Her lipstick wasn't red today; it was almost black, how dark it was.

He couldn't help but compare it to your lips, always a natural pink, since you never wore lipstick around him. "It doesn't make sense. We'll just get it rubbed over our faces", you told him one time, when he asked why he didn't see you wearing your red lipstick anymore.

He missed it. He missed how you were before you tried to be Roger Taylor's girlfriend.

How you were in the beginning.

But now there was nothing he could do but hope things eventually worked out, hope he didn't cheat on you, hope you didn't cheat on him, hope the hazy cloud caused by the whiskey didn't compromise his decisions.

He hated, absolutely despised doing TV show performances; he hated lip synching and pretending to play the drums. And he hated how you were not there to laugh over his mood, kiss his pout as he'd go backstage.

He tried to keep a conversation with Freddie, for a while, but none of them were in the mood to say interesting things and keep the conversation going. So before Roger could notice, he was surrounded by people from his label.

And that included Poppy, who was sitting by his side - he could feel his skin burning where she touched him, sitting closer than it was necessary - and when she leaned over him to get a lighter on the table by his side, he catches himself watching her, how her cleavage looked so close to him, how soft the skin seemed to be.

He felt an urge to brush his lips over it.

And, filled with guilt, he stormed away from the bar.

You were sitting with Will by your side, sipping on champagne as your new bosses told you a story about how they bought an original roman chariot from a farmer in Italy, and how difficult it was for them to rebuild it.

"We spent too much trying to figure out how long should the draught-pole be" the lady told you, and the man completed, "Until we realized it wasn't so important as finishing the chariot so we could expose it!", and you laughed. It was nice to spend a night talking about subjects you dominated; you were now used to spend dinners just listening, as people spoke about music and the industry and stuff you didn't understand.

Will laughed, too. It was a nice view; his sunkissed skin would crinkle around his lips, his bright smile almost blinding you. You looked at his scruff and you wondered how it would feel against your inner thigh - would it chafe it? - when you realized what you were thinking. Shut up, Y/N, you told yourself, and you could feel the blush in your cheeks.

You order another glass of champagne.

Roger would laugh at your nervous drinking - he'd always tell you to calm down, he didn't want to spend the night holding your hair up as you threw up in the toilet - but he would always do it anyway.

His skin didn't chafe your inner thighs.

You took another sip of the champagne.

"Well, time flies when we're having a good time, right? We have to go to our hotel already. Our flight leaves first thing in the morning", the lady told you. "It's been a pleasure to meet you and it's going to be a bigger pleasure to work with you, Y/N", the man said, shaking your hand and then Will's. "The people you find, Will. You're gifted", he says, and then follows the lady outside of the restaurant as Will says "I guess I am".

You get up, but you feel dizzy. "Shit, I got up too fast", you say, but Will looks at you worried. "Are you sure?", he asks, a concerned look on his blue eyes - so pale, so different from Roger's. "Yeah, my blood pressure's kinda low, so it happens", you shrug.

"We can share the taxi home", he says, and you correct him in under your breath. "Cab" you say, but he doesn't listen, and is already on his way out. You follow him; it was late, you didn't want to ride a cab on your own. London could be dangerous.

As you sit on the backseat, he sits beside you, his fingers ghosting on your thigh as helps you with the seatbelt.

You could feel the shiver on your spine.

Roger marches over to the elevators, going inside one, and the doors are already closing when a clutch stops it.

"Almost missed my chance", he hears a familiar voice purr.

Poppy goes inside the elevator, her high heels clicking, and Roger wonders if she was really talking about the lift.

She stops besides him. Closer than necessary.

The elevator was panoramic, and Roger's suite was on the top floor. They watched as the city got distant from them, as they were brought apart from the rest of the world.

"Nice view. I wonder if your girlfriend wouldn't appreciate it", Poppy said, and Roger felt his shoulders tense.

"I'm sorry?", he says. "Your girlfriend. I heard you have one. Funny that I never see her around", Poppy says, clicking her nails against the elevator wall.

"Hm. She's busy with her own career", he was able to say, trying not to get distracted by how close Poppy was from him, how he could feel her perfume penetrating his pores.

"That's interesting. Y/N, right?" she asked, and he nodded. He hated hearing your name coming out of Poppy's lips - it felt wrong. Not natural. "Kinda sad for you. You could spend some interesting times with people that are around you, you know", she said, moving closer to him, staring deep into his eyes.

He couldn't focus enough to answer something. She made him feel like a teenager.

"Someone who's a bit more like you", she completed, moving her hands to his jaw.

He felt paralyzed when she kissed him, but he soon realized he was answering her kiss, but not very well - part of him thought it wasn't right, but a bigger part of him could only taste her lipstick.

And it was the only thing on his mind as he followed her to her hotel room.

Will's eyes stared deep into yours as he asked you about details on your trip, offering help.

You found his eyes distracting, but disturbing. They were so pale you felt like you could see through them, if you tried hard enough.

His mint scented breath hit your face every time he said something, and you felt relaxed at the sound of the familiar accent. He sounded just like home.

"Y/N, I actually decided to listen to some of your boyfriend's work. Roger, right?", Will asked, and you felt disgusted. Roger's name on Will's voice and accent felt invasive, wrong. "Don't say it", you said, moving your finger to Will's lips.

He looked at you, confused, but soon moved his hands to meet with yours. It was the first time you touched him like this, so close to his lips.

And, very carefully, very slowly, he got closer to you, his eyes on yours, almost asking for permission to kiss you.

You didn't stop him.

He kissed you, carefully, and you responded slowly, the guilt weighing down on your arms.

You felt his beard irritate your skin, and you thought of that when Will broke the kiss to tell the cabbie to take the two of you to his house.

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Chapter 15

Masterlist

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @patrick-the-stumping @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy

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beatricethecat2 · 6 years

Text

if/then (2.0) - 16

I'm releasing this into the world so I'll stop fiddling with it and I think the gist is there. It's a bit of a rollercoaster with lots of dialog, but more than a few things are revealed, so yay! and finally! There are a few more chapters coming up than I thought, because it's going to take awhile to unravel all of Helena's mysteries. Typos abound, I will fix later. (edited 8/28) Thanks for reading!

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15

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Lowered voices and metallic rumblings nudge Myka from her well-earned sleep, but the high-pitched giggle of a giddy child rouses her for good.

“What are you watching?” Myka asks, hiking herself up to eye level, spying Helena and Christina huddled at the table.

“The finest in feline entertainment,” Helena says, angling her eyes toward Myka. "Sorry to wake you.”

“That’s ok. It’s been…” Myka turns and plucks her phone off the coffee table. “Wow, three hours.”

“You were exhausted.”

“Where's Claudia?”

“Comatose in the bedroom.”

“And the cooking?”

“We’re basting,” Christina answers, not looking up from the screen.

“Soon, there’ll be much more to prepare.”

“I'll help,” Myka says.

“Mom, look!”

Helena glances at the phone then brushes Christina's hair from her face, eyes shifting back when Christina lets out another hardy giggle. Christina leans into her mother, and Helena hugs her close, both chuckling at whatever’s happening on the screen.

The sound’s a reassuring reminder of simpler days, before the weight of the world crushed Myka's resolve. She sinks back into the couch, maybe there's hope for them yet, once Helena comes clean and their feet finally touch the ground.

Their day began early, with Helena rushing off for her bags, then a hurried trip to catch their red-eye to London. They were seated promptly on the plane, but after an announcement of a delay, Helena unclasped her seat belt and abruptly stood. Myka caught her arm and eased her down as the flight attendant scuttled over. She insisted they’d be moving shortly, but Helena fidgeted, overly worried they’d miss Christina and Claudia's arrival at the airport.

Their meet up went smoothly, thankfully, with jubilant hugs all around and they were soon whizzing in a black cab toward London. Claudia curled up in a corner while Christina and Helena cuddled nearby and Myka lounged in the jump seat across from them. As she sank into her seat, the weight of the last month fell off in waves; their next few days should be comparatively easygoing.

Once they hit the inner city, the driver twisted and turned, so much so Myka swore they were going in circles. When the car pulled up to the curb, there was a collective groan; they'd all conformed to their seats and were unwilling to move again. But they tumbled out of the cab and dragged their bags across the pavement, hauling them up a set of stairs and promptly dumping them inside.

“So this is it,” Claudia said. “Chez H.G.”

“This room and the next,” Helena replied, as Claudia poked her head in the bedroom.

“Not bad,” Claudia said, ducking into the kitchen then the bathroom. “Hey look, everything’s where it’s supposed to be.”

“For your convenience,” Helena quipped. “Obviously."

“It’s pretty small," Claudia said.

“It is only me here.”

“I got dibs on a shower.”

“I believe we all desire one.”

“I took one this morning after you…” Myka started, but Helena lowered her brow in caution. “...you went to get breakfast."

“I don’t wanna know,” Claudia said, waving a hand. "But I’ve been on kid duty for forever, so I get first dibs on whatever I want.”

“Claudia’s right,” Myka said.

“Very well,” Helena said. “I’ll begin preparations for the Great American Feast. Who’s with me?”

“Me!” Christina said, raising her hand and jumping up and down.

“And me. As long as I last,” Myka said.

Myka didn't last for long.

Claudia walks in yawning soon after Myka wakes, and as she joins in the preparations, their muscle memory of co-habituating flexes full force. It’s not unlike Helena’s old apartment, their bodies navigating around each other on instinct, but instead of a low coffee table, they’re eating at regulation height.

During dinner, Christina describes every dish's preparation, including where she found the recipe and how many times they’ve made it before.

“Our first foray into brussel sprouts precipitated Christina's front tooth's extraction,” Helena states.

“I thought it was the stuffing,” Claudia says.

“It was the nuts in the green beans!” Christina corrects.

“Almonds,” Helena recollects. “Damn that Martha Stewart."

Christina describes the event jubilantly, and all present agree with her account.

This prompts a flurry of anecdotes detailing previous Thanksgivings, everyone interrupting everyone else with corrections as they go. Myka sits back and listens, completely enthralled, as here's the backstory she’s always craved from them. It’s too bad it’s when she’s at odds with Helena, but she enjoys their tales nonetheless.

Once they're stuffed to the gills with turkey and pie, they crowd on the couch and cue up a movie. Myka nods off after the beginning credits roll and when she wakes, only Claudia remains, sleeping.

Myka finds Helena and Christina asleep, curled up together in Helena’s bedroom. She slides under the covers, gently, and shimmies close—a tight fit, but ultimately manageable—then smiles at the serenity on Helena's face. She reaches out, brushing a lock of hair away from Helena's eye, then skims her hand towards her, across Helena’s cheek and down to trace her jaw.

Helena blinks awake and as she focuses, returns Myka's smile in earnest.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Myka whispers.

“It’s alright. We should talk.”

“Tomorrow. Rest.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah, goodnight.” Myka glances at Christina, still blissfully asleep in her mother’s arms, then closes her eyes.

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Helena's phone rings the minute they leave the flat for lunch.

“Go on ahead,” she says, frowning at the screen.

“We can wait,” Myka says, chancing a glance at the caller, but the display reads “unknown."

“This may take a minute. I’ll join you shortly," Helena says, tapping accept and lifting the device to her ear.

“Babezilla, you think?” Claudia says as Helena walks back inside. “I thought she was in the clear."

“Me too," Myka says, looking in Helena’s direction warily. "I guess she’s never really off the clock.”

After the sale, Helena was vague about her involvement closing the deal and hadn't spoken much about the bar or school. But it's odd, her wandering off with Christina physically here, as she’d want to spend every single second possible in her presence. Whoever is calling must be delivering sensitive news, but she’ll suspend her suspicions until later.

When Helena joins them at the cafe, she claims the call wasn't that important, but as the day progresses, Myka doubts that's true. Helena won't look her in the eye and keeps Christina close, making it impossible to ask probing questions. She thought she’d be more forthcoming once Claudia left to meet with friends, but instead, she suggests visiting a row of market stalls. This thrills Christina to no end and they look up recipes while shopping, until Helena’s phone rings again. She instructs them to go on without her, handing Myka her keys and walking off in the direction they came from.

“Is mom ok?” Christina asks, looking as worried as Myka's feeling.

“I think it’s just work. It was hard for her to get time off.”

“Ok,” Christina says, sounding unconvinced. “We need milk to make dessert.”

“There's a store on our way. We’ll stop there,” Myka says. As Helena disappears around a corner, she places a hand on Christina’s shoulder and guides her toward the flat.

Ten minutes after their arrival, the buzzer rings. "Hello again," Helena greets as Myka opens the door. She kisses Myka on the cheek, then strides towards the kitchen with nary a word about the call.

Helena dotes over Christina and it's a heartening sight, but Myka can’t shake the feeling something’s terribly wrong. She’s surprised when Helena suggests they tuck in Christina early. They tell her stories until Christina's eyes droop and close.

“Wine?” Helena suggests as they tiptoe into the living room.

“Yeah, sure,” Myka answers, following Helena into the kitchen.

“Perhaps this economically priced Malbec will suffice for the evening since it’s all that’s left after last night.” Helena sets the bottle on the counter and rifles through a drawer, then opens another and repeats the action. When she consults a third with no result, Myka opens the first and plucks out a wine opener.

“Are you ok?” Myka says, flipping the knife open and sliding the bottle towards her. She scores the wrapping, then peels it off.

“I’ve been better,” Helena says, taking two wine glasses from a cabinet.

“What’s up with all the calls?” Myka asks, screwing the corkscrew in and pushing the lever down.

“Things best discussed while sitting,” Helena answers.

Myka up lifts the cork and when it pops, Helena snatches the bottle out from under it. She pours a generous portion and hands the glass to Myka. "Have a seat, and I’ll join you shortly.”

Myka grimaces as she walks, sitting down means bad news. She circles the couch and sits, looking over her shoulder to check if Helena’s following.

Helena downs an entire glass and pours herself another, then joins Myka, but sits at a distance. She folds her hands over her lap and straightens her spine as if readying for a presentation.

“Thank you for joining us for Thanksgiving. We had a lovely time.”

“It was nice. But that’s not what this is about."

“No.” Helena looks down at her hands, a thumb now scrubbing over her wrist. "We’ve been getting on rather well lately, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, mostly.”

“If you might recall that moving forward I’d be most appreciative.” Helena stills her thumb and clasps her hands together.

"What’s wrong?”

“I must inform you of something rather unpleasant.”

“Was that Bonnie on the phone?”

“I’m not at liberty to say."

“Is this about the appeal?” Myka scoots closer and places a hand over Helena’s.

“Not precisely. It’s something I’d hoped to avoid entirely, but I’m told there’s no alternative." Helena glances towards the bedroom, then back at Myka. “I apologize for the situation that we’re all about to be placed in."

“You’re scaring me a little,” Myka says, withdrawing her hand.

“I’m scared myself,” Helena says, unclasping her hands and laying them, palms down, on her knees. For a minute it looks like she might stand, but it’s just the way her body's tensing. "I won't mince words, but I do ask you remain civil once I've disclosed this information."

“Civil? This doesn't sound good.”

“It's not,” Helena says, fingers now curled around her knees. “I’m being taken in for questioning for transporting stolen goods over international borders. It’s likely you, and Mrs. Frederic will be questioned as well.”

Myka blinks several times, repeating the phrases in her mind until the depth of Helena's words sink in. “Questioned by who? And when?”

“By the police. As early as tomorrow."

Myka takes a moment to rationalize this. “Is this about the sale?"

“In a sense. Have you any idea what the “under the radar” item you offered was?”

“No."

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely certain.”

“Yes. Why?” Only a minute in and Helena’s already testing her patience.

“You must be unwavering in answer when questioned."

“I don’t know. You said you didn’t either.” A familiar anger wells up in Myka's chest. "I’m guessing that was a lie."

“I delivered it, for Mrs. Frederic.”

“To who? MacPherson?”

Helena’s eyes narrow, reading as if that wasn't the question she was expecting. “No. To Bonnie.”

“So the police think you stole it?”

“It was stolen goods in the first place. I was merely transporting it across borders.”

“You’re saying Mrs. Frederic stole it?”

“I have no knowledge of its acquisition. I was simply the courier in this situation."

Helena’s bláze tone works on Myka’s nerves but going off on her now will only make matters worse. If she’s honest, many of Mrs. Frederic's deals have questionable origins, though she does make an effort to reunite items with their owners. And her original offer, the Faberge egg, was technically stolen goods, but stolen a hundred years ago, which made it seem a non-issue.

The secrecy around this new item must mean it's very, very hot. Helena and Bonnie obviously knew that and pushed Mrs. Frederic to release it. But to get caught during delivery seems out of character for both of them. There must be a logic driving the decision.

“You’re framing Mrs. Frederic. You got caught on purpose,” Myka says, as it all comes into focus.

“Why would I do that? I’m already on probation. Do you think I never want to reunite with my child?”

“That’s not what I—"

“That bloody Sally blew the whistle. Bonnie was whispering in her ear for months. The police are gathering planted evidence as we speak."

“So Bonnie does work for MacPherson,” Myka mumbles, mostly to herself.

“Not that I’m aware of."

“That’s who was on the phone at the sale every time you left the room."

"How exactly would he call without raising suspicions? He's in jail."

“I don’t know. But ruining Mrs. Frederic’s reputation would be a priority for him.”

“Why would I, of all people, agree to help him?"

“Maybe it's your way out, permanently."

"I was out. This is on Emily. And there are numerous others invested in taking Mrs. Frederic down."

"Ok, say I believe you. Why are Emily and Bonnie railroading Mrs. Frederic?”

“Emily was delivering goods as contracted. Bonnie planned this escapade down to the minute. Apparently, my 'slip up of disastrous proportions’ was only to be executed as a desperate measure.”

“A-ha! So you did know. And you are framing Mrs. Frederic.”

“Keep your voice down,” Helena scolds and glances towards the bedroom.

"I know Bonnie's a cop. Or she used to be. And I know you've known her since undergrad,” Myka continues, undeterred.

Helena flinches back. "Where are you getting this?"

"You dated. She left you. You were crushed. And now you're working with her and probably sleeping with her, too.”

“I most certainly am not.”

“Do you want to be?” Myka’s hands ball into fists, it’s exhilarating to have thrown that jab. She wants to hit something, something Helena sized, and she just might, depending on the answer.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re utterly delusional."

“How would I know? You’ve spent more time with her than me."

“I understand you’re upset, but this is—”

“What do you want from me? Really, truly want?"

“I want this to be over so we can move forward as a family.”

“Ha! Right. With you in jail?”

“It wouldn't be for long."

"How could you know?"

"I've information to barter my freedom.”

“And if that doesn’t work and you’re sent away anyway? You’re just stringing me along to look after your kid.”

“You’ve never been obligated. Claudia can—"

A muffled whimper cuts Helena short. She flies off the couch towards the source and scoops Christina into her arms.

Myka remains on the couch as they disappear into the bedroom, sick to her stomach that Helena used her for personal gain. She didn't deny knowing Bonnie previously and she deny sleeping with her. Now that all of her worst fears have been confirmed, Helena's flat feels too small. There’s no way she can stay here tonight, she has to get out as soon as possible.

She strides into the bedroom to gather her things but is stopped short by Christina sobbing in Helena's arms.

“Myka hates me,” Christina blurts.

“She doesn’t hate you, love. Do you, Myka.”

“Of course I don’t,” Myka grunts, avoiding Helena's glower by grabbing her suitcase. “Your mom and I are having…issues, but I still love you.”

“But you said…you said that...that you didn’t want to take care of me anymore,” Christina manages, through sobs.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did. You never stay at Aunt Claudia’s.”

“I’ve been busy."

“What are you doing?” Helena asks.

“I'm leaving. I need to be anywhere but here.” Myka jams a pair of shorts into her suitcase and Christina sobs harder. “Just for tonight,” Myka amends, with a slightly less bite.

“She’ll be back,” Helena says, combing her fingers through Christina’s hair.

Myka grabs a smaller bag, one that will do for overnight, and transfers clothes into it.

“I don't want mom to go to jail.”

“That wasn’t meant for your ears,” Helena says.

“Knowing you, you will,” Myka grumbles at Helena.

Christina gasps and burrows her face into Helena’s chest. Helena shoots Myka a deathly glare.

“I-I need some things from the bathroom.”

Myka hurries out of the room, that was cruel but Helena pushed her, plus it's too late to take it back now. She shoves toiletries into her bag then pats her pockets, but doesn't find her phone. It must be in the living room, so she treads out to find it, but is dragged back in by the arm.

“Ow, you're hurting me!” Myka yelps as Helena herds her in. She tugs her arm free as Helena pushes the door closed.

“You must listen closely and do as I say, for I will not have you put away in my place.”

“Me, go to jail? I haven't done anything wrong!"

“That you’re aware of.”

“What did you do?”

“Not me. Mrs. Frederic.”

Myka scoffs. “Mrs. Frederic, right.”

“This is not a bluff.”

“It’s hard to tell with you.”

Helena’s eyes tighten; it’s clear she's in no mood for bickering.

“Fine. Go on."

“Before I continue, I must emphasize, you mustn’t mention your ‘theories' when questioned."

“What ‘theories'?"

“Bonnie working for the authorities and us colluding against Mrs. Frederic. Neither were 'in the heat of the moment' guesses, I presume.”

“No. But you said I was ‘delusional' and brushed me off.”

“What are you basing them on, exactly?”

“I don’t have to tell you.” Myka throws her nose into the air and crosses her arms over her chest.

“But you shall, after the state you’ve left my daughter in.”

Myka drops her arms. “Is she ok?”

“As well as to be expected after being shunned by someone she loves.”

“I was mad at you, not her.”

“Then take it out on me, not in front of her.”

"Oh, I will.” Helena's scolding gets Myka's ire up again.

“These ’theories’ of yours. What are they based on?"

“Stuff Claudia dug up on the internet."

“You’ve involved Claudia!” Helena blurts.

"I couldn't follow you blindly! I had to find out for myself."

"Does she know—"

"About you being at the sale? No."

"And this information, is any of it on your computer?"

“Yes. Why?"

"Wipe it immediately. All traces. Everything. And when you're interviewed, do not mention Claudia's involvement.”

“Why should I help you?”

“It’s in all our best interests you heed my advice.”

“Seriously, why? I don’t see how ‘heeding your advice’ helps anyone but you.” Myka glares at Helena until her muscles begin to quiver, the urge to punch her rising again. “I gotta go,” she says, moving towards the door, but Helena steps in front of her. She tries to push Helena aside, but Helena grabs her wrist and shoves her back in.

“I’ll explain," Helena says. "But I shouldn't."

Myka yanks her wrist free.

“You mustn't repeat a word I say. Not to Claudia nor Christina, Abigail or Amanda. You're absolutely in the dark; otherwise, we’re all sunk.”

“Got it. Act dumb.”

“Act pained. Dumbfounded. Betrayed. Everything you’ve been feeling this evening times ten. The drama must ring true."

“Fine," Myka says and waits for Helena to continue, but instead, Helena looks over at the tub. She perches on its edge and looks down at the floor, dragging a hand through her hair, holding it back.

“Helena, tell me."

Helena releases her locks slowly, letting them cascade in sheets until her face is entirely obscured by a black curtain. "It's you that's being railroaded. By Mrs. Frederic."

“What?” Myka barely heard a word Helena said. She sits on the tub and angles her head for better access.

“Your trajectory was ideal: an eager young recruit, overstepping her bounds for professional gain. I was told it was the least harmful option to produce the desired result."

"I don't understand."

“The delay at Customs. Mrs. Frederic's intervention. All pre-planned events. The item in question was hidden in your crates.” Helena turns toward Myka. "It was you that was meant to be caught redhanded, but Bonnie and I threw a wrench into the works.”

Myka stands and backs away. This is surely another tale Helena's spinning.

“I understand how ludicrous this sounds, but it's the truth."

"Why should I believe you?"

“Because we’re all pawns in this volatile game of chess. Your sacrifice was meant to push MacPherson into a compromising position. His influence extends well beyond antiquities, into dark dealings too gruesome to mention. I can’t even begin to explain how important this transaction is and how horrified I was to hear you were anywhere near it. I did everything in my power to force Mrs. Frederic’s hand. I thought I’d succeeded until you turned up in Germany.”

“You got me dropped from the sale?"

"Yes."

Myka takes a moment to process this. "How long have you known?"

“Since my first meeting with Mrs. Frederic. I’d learned then you’d been earmarked earlier. And that Theodora and Vanessa were also involved."

"Theodora and Vanessa?” Myka wobbles and grabs hold of the sink counter. That’s why she was given the antiquities job, not because she was worthy. "Vanessa wouldn't do that."

"Vanessa had little choice. She was strong-armed by Mrs. Frederic. Theodora wavered but was...coerced."

“Coerced? How?”

“I’m not privy to the details. But she was rather suddenly on board.”

"Why me?"

“Mrs. Frederic believed, were you to be sentenced at all, the court would be lenient for a first offense. I argued the opposite, that they’d use you to set an example, especially with such a high profile case. Therefore, I was ordered to stay out of it entirely, which I entirely did not do. I instead contacted Vanessa and Theodora to form a plan."

“What did they say?"

“That Mrs. Frederic’s no longer behaving rationally. She’d do anything to keep MacPherson behind bars, even ruin careers were it to further her agenda. They agreed she needed to be stopped, but they hadn’t a clue how.”

Myka flashes back to Italy, to the meal she had with Theodora. She'd said Mrs. Frederic would push her until she broke and warned she should push back before that happened. "Family's what’s left when everything else falls flat,” Theodora had said. Was she referencing this moment then?

“So this has nothing to do with Emily. This is all about me.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Upon arrival in London, I, and Emily were genuinely free of Macpherson’s affairs. In fact, my involvement was never meant to go this far."

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“The less you knew, the better."

Helena's standard answer, but an answer that now makes sense. Myka stares at her, heart racing, blood pounding, she doesn’t know what to say. Her whole world’s just been turned upside-down, and for once, Helena’s given her real answers.

“I’m doing this for us. For our future. I’m in a much better position to bargain than you. And who better to care for my daughter were I locked away?”

Helena’s quip is meant to be playful, but her tender tone hits Myka in the gut. “I’m sorry. So sorry. For everything.” She moves across the room and resumes her spot on the tub. “I should apologize to Christina."

“Please do. But maintain the illusion we're fighting."

“I’ll do whatever you say,” Myka says, reaching across Helena's lap and taking hold of her hand.

“Your instincts are correct. Stay in a hotel. Don't tell me where. And come tomorrow, this conversation never happened. You’re very, very angry with me once it all unfolds."

"I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. You didn't deserve—"

"You had good reason.” Helena flips Myka's hand over and laces their fingers together. "Now, go apologize to my daughter, then storm off in a huff."

Myka scoots closer. "I have no idea what's going on and that scares me. But I trust you. I really do."

"You have no idea how much that means to me.” Helena brings Myka’s hand up to her lips and kisses its back.

“Hey, you guys in there? Cos I really, reeeeally gotta pee. These Brits, man, they guzzle booze like there’s no tomorrow,” Claudia says.

Helena closes her eyes and breathes a deep breath. “Can this evening get any worse?"

“Don’t tempt it,” Myka says, squeezing Helena’s hand.

-TBC-

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fanfiction #if/then #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #if you're reading this and know the story #please let me know if I've not explained what's going on clearly #there are huge gaps that will be filled in coming up #but this should at least move the story forward #in a way that makes sense #thank you!

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thearrangment-phff · 6 years

Text

XIII. Catastrophic

December 2016

The high walls of the historic two-story castle brought Isabella joy, pain, pride, and shame. Her grandfather stood at the door with a cane in his hand and a smile on his lips. Isabella went to him giving him a kiss on each cheek and a small curtsy. When she was in public with her family she was taught at a young age, that kisses on the cheek and a small curtsy was important. Her mother and elder sister spent months trying to perfect everything.

Harry watched as Isabella and her grandfather spoke another, language –most likely French, seeing how German has a harshness to its language- and Harry was forced to be in the background. He thought about learning French or German, that way he wasn't oblivious to the conversation. Harry was also sure Isabella's family would love the fact he learned another language to communicate with them.

Isabella laughed at something her grandfather said and Harry really wished he had a translator right now like he would have one when he went to a foreign country to avoid awkwardness. Harry watched as she nodded at the former Grand Duke of Luxembourg before turning her attention to Harry.

She grabbed onto his hand bringing him closer to her and her grandfather. Harry extended his arm out to the aging former monarch. Something the former Grand Duke took to account with a nod. His grip was weak on Harry's hand and when they both pulled back Harry bowed to him. Jean smiled and nodded at him before turning around and walking into Fischbach Castle.

Isabella grabbed onto Harry's upper arm and began to walk. Harry looked at the simple decorations that covered the castle walls. This was more a home than a castle in Harry's mind. Fischbach Castle was different from Kensington Palace, or even Buckingham. Though, he didn't think there were many places that could compare to those two palaces in the world.

Harry and Isabella were lead into a drawing room where another man held the former monarch into a chair. Jean nodded at his granddaughter, allowing her to sit down and Harry to join her. Despite being a people person, Harry was nervous. Jean, was Isabella's grandfather, and he made Harry more nervous than because of the language barrier. Isabella placed her hand on Harry's thigh and started to speak French to her grandfather. Whatever she had said made Jean nod at her and Isabella smile.

"Belle has told me that your grandmother is the Queen of England. I have met her on multiple occasions over the years and she is a great woman I must say," smiled Jean. His English wasn't bad, but Jean did have a thick mixed accent.

"Thank you. I'm sure she would appreciate your kind words," replied Harry.

"I told my grandfather you were in the Royal Army. He was also in the British Army and went to Sandhurst before fighting during the second world war," explained Isabella as Harry placed his hand over hers.

For the next two hours, Harry and Jean talked about Sandhurst, and Harry found out the Luxembourg Grand Ducal Family had a tradition of all sons going there before joining their home countries army. Some of the Liechtenstein princes even picked up this tradition as well because of Isabella’s aunt Margaretha of Luxembourg who married a Prince of Liechtenstein. When he and Isabella had children he had no doubt they will continue Jean’s tradition and in a way, Harry could start that same tradition with his own sons.

Harry then mentioned the Invictus Games and his work with veterans since joining the Royal Army. Jean had a great admiration for Harry's work and Harry even invited Jean to the next Invictus Games in Toronto if he could make it. Harry then started asking about World War Two and Jean explained the German occupation of Luxembourg.

Isabella heard the stories growing up, from family and in school. Harry knew some stuff about WW2, mostly about the British Royal Family's experience, but he never knew about Luxembourg during the war. Jean told Harry the story about fleeing the night before the Germans invaded Luxembourg escaping to France. The Luxembourg Grand Ducal Family were then exiled to Portugal, United Kingdom, and finally the United States after that. Jean volunteered for the Irish Guards while in the United Kingdom during exile.

Then Jean and Harry shared personal stories of their experiences at the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst. The two men had much more in common than first realized. Both held the rank of Lieutenant before being promoted to Captain. Jean then told Harry the story of landing in Normandy and fighting in the Battle for Caen, which was fought to liberate Brussels during their German occupation. Then Harry remembered that Isabella's grandmother was a Princess of Belgium before her marriage. When Harry brought her up, Jean smiled at the thought of his wife and then said that she and the King of the Belgians were under house arrest by the Germans during the war.

Harry remembered the stories about Belgium during the Second World War and his father once mentioned that King Leopold III of Belgium was a hated man for surrendering Belgium to the Nazis, and though lives were lost, much more were saved.

Jean then explained that he fought for the liberation of Luxembourg just a couple of months later. After the war, for almost 20 years, Jean served as Colonel of the Regiment of the Irish Guards, often riding in uniform behind Queen Elizabeth II during the Sovereign's Birthday Parade. That's when Harry began to remember faint memories of the former Grand Duke and his grandparents.

Isabella barely said a word as Harry and her grandfather created a bonding moment. All Isabella could do was smile at Harry as he spoke so passionately about his work with veterans then look so intense as he heard her grandfather's stories of World War Two. Not once did her hand leave Harry's thigh and she did notice whenever he talked about veterans he jaw would clench, he would bite his lip once or twice, and gripped her hand just a little tighter. When Harry heard the stories of World War Two from Jean, Harry's hand would leave hers, and find its way to her knees and squeeze occasionally.

She had no objection to the touching, not only because she liked it, but because it showed her grandfather that they were a unit. In a way, Harry did depend on Isabella when in the presence of her family. If they were going to make this arrangement work, they needed to rely on each other. Harry began to trust Isabella more after not only seeing a glimpse of her life, but also the moments they spent alone in her apartment talking. It had been about 8 months of getting to know each other and Harry didn't have a complaint in his body... maybe a complaint about all the plane trips.

"Grandpapa, I'm afraid Harry and I need to get ready for tonight. As you do," insisted Isabella as she began to get up from the chair and Harry's touch.

Jean nodded at his granddaughter and spoke French before leaving the room. Isabella and Harry were left alone and she couldn't help but hug Harry. She had been so proud of him and her grandfather had told her that he really liked Harry.

"I am so proud of you," smiled Isabella as she pulled away from him, "I didn't think you and my grandfather would get along so quickly. He really likes you, Harry."

"He's a fascinating man. All those stories... they were captivating. I can't believe he even remembered fighting the second world war so vividly."

"My great-uncle Otto had amazing stories about World War Two. He publicly denounced Nazism and had a bounty on him. If caught he would be immediately sentenced to death. I had several family members actually sent to concentration camps. Uncle Otto helped over 15,000 Austrians and Austrian Jews flee when the Germans came. My great-grandmother Empress Zita did the same, and as a mother of 8 with no citizenship, she was forced into exile. My other great-grandparents, Eugene and Philippine, hid Jewish children in their castle of Belœil during the Nazi occupation of Belgium. Despite being shameful of my family, and I am also quite proud of them," stated Isabella.

Harry then thought about the Halloween costume party when he was a teenager and made the mistake of wearing Nazi armband. He was shameful after it had happened, but when the pictures were leaked it became more hate than shame. Then Harry wondered if Isabella knew of those photos.

"I would have loved to hear those stories, had I known you earlier. Now that I think about it I really should read up on your family. Your great-grandparents seemed to have been amazing people," decided Harry.

"Of course. One pair was an Emperor and Empress, but he died young and my great-grandmother spent almost 70 years in widowhood and exile. Another were humanitarians and my great-grandmother Philippine entered a 30-yearlong widowhood as well. The third, my great-grandmother Charlotte was a monarch in her own right, but in her later life spent 15 years without her husband by her side. Then the last, and most tragic of all. My great-grandmother Astrid was in an accident and my great-grandfather was found clutching her dead body in his arms as he screamed her name. There is only one word to describe my family and it's catastrophic," spoke Isabella.

Harry could find no words of comfort for Isabella instead he reached his hand out to her and waited until her hand molded into his, "Come on. We do need to get ready."

Isabella and Harry walked up to their rooms hand in hand and Harry saw the stares of some of the housekeepers and other people who worked in the castle. Harry leaned to whisper in Isabella's ear, "Why are they staring?"

"Maybe they know who you are?" Asked Isabella in an attempt to reply but Harry could hear her being sarcastic with him.

"Doubt I would be so popular in Luxembourg," replied Harry.

"I think you're popular everywhere. You are Prince Harry after all," teased Isabella.

"Is that my compliment for the day? I do prefer those little nicknames you have for me," smiled Harry.

"You'll have to earn those nicknames tonight," proclaimed Isabella as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Some 20 minutes later Isabella came out with a black dress and her hair in a fancy up-do. She paid no attention to Harry as she clasped her necklace around her neck and looked in the mirror, "Are you ready?"

"I just need to put on shoes," replied Harry.

"Hurry up. My grandfather will be waiting downstairs and I really don't want to keep in waiting," said Isabella as she began to walk to the door.

"How long were they married?" Asked Harry.

"A little over 50 years."

"Think we can last that long?"

Isabella gave him a small smile and nod, "We take everything day by day."

#Prince Harry Fanfiction #Prince Harry Fanfic #PHFF #Royal Fanfic #Royal Fanfiction #Fanfiction

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kariachi · 7 years

Text

@cyclone-rachel

Fic for the idea I sent you

Ezekiel’s earliest memory is faded and worn with time. Heavy rain, cold air, warm hands, comforting words. He knows the context around it- the day his Pa found him and brought him home, dried him off, fed him fit to burst, but he was much too young to remember clearly. Too young to remember the first time he’d shed his feathers for him as well, but he knows eventually he did because he remembers meeting his Dad for the first time, all human-shaped and waiting with his Pa for him to return from prison.

When he’s old enough for school they sign up him under one of their many fake names, just in case. Not that it makes schooling any more fun. The classes bore him when they aren’t blatantly, offensively wrong and he gets in trouble constantly. There’s an invisible target on his back as well that his classmates love to aim for. Everything is fair game, from his grades to his race, his worn clothes to his run-down neighborhood, his attitudes to his fathers. When he’s not in trouble for mouthing off or not paying attention, he’s in trouble for fighting.

Going home to his parents, with their unconditional love and support, helps, but things aren’t’ always right there either. Sometimes they’re both at home, but more often than not one of them is doing business elsewhere, or is laying low where they won’t get him caught up in their trouble, or, in the worst times, is in prison again. Instead he finds peace on the wind, flying over the city and exploring it’s every nook and cranny from the more simple view of a bird. It’s the form he’s in when he first steals.

It’s not much at first, street food to make up for the lunches other, bigger kids ruin and he can’t bring himself to tell his parents about. Then he starts stealing other things, things he needs, then things he wants, then things he just finds interesting, or challenging. He takes a year to begin doing it in human shape, and is caught in less than two weeks.

Humans have a much harder time stealing things than birds. It’s not cute when they do it.

His parents are disappointed when the officer brings him home, and send him and his dinner to his room while they discuss his behavior. He wishes he could say that he heard them talking, but they’ve long learned how low to keep their voices to they don’t bleed through the thin walls. When they open his door, his Pa is holding a set of lockpicks and his Dad looks more serious than he’s ever seen him before. They tell him they can’t say not to commit crimes, that they won’t be hypocrites, but insist that if he’s going to be a criminal he’ll at least learn the business first.

The deal is struck- they’ll teach him all they know, but in exchange he needs to get through school, take advantage of the opportunity they never had. He agrees in a heartbeat.

It doesn’t make him feel better about the way people treat him, about the unfairness of the world, not really, but his lessons give him a sense of accomplishment he doesn’t get in his schoolwork, a sense of control. His fathers are both proud of him and how quickly he progresses, how he begins to outshine them. It’s not long before they’re letting him run jobs on his own, though he knows they hover outside his marks in case he needs their help. The safety net is nice while he’s young.

When Ezekiel is thirteen a strange letter comes in the mail with his name on it. The note inside starts blank, then fills itself in with golden letters inviting him to interview for a position in the New York Metropolitan Library. He shows it to his parents, especially since Dad is an ex-pat from New York, and as soon as they’ve read it the note goes in the bin. They’re both bristling, and it takes all of his Dad’s willpower not to light the lot on fire. His parents spend the rest of the day explaining the dangers in unsolicited job offers, especially ones trying to lure poor Asian children to come to America for work. Ezekiel puts the note out of his mind, keeps the warning. The next few nights are spent on one of his perches, safe as a bird.

He’s fifteen when he graduates secondary school, sixteen when he leaves home. Well on his way to mastering his craft, he wants to see the world. Stolen money and hocked goods pays his way from Melbourne to Manila, to Tokyo, to Seoul. There to Moscow, Budapest, Rome, Brussels. Paris, Madrid, Rabat, then all the way back up to Amsterdam for his first big art exhibition. It’s wonderful. The world is so big and varied, there’s so much food and beauty, and nowhere looks bad when he’s winging over it.

At eighteen he’s in London, shoplifting some crisps while he tries to decide whether to hit the Victoria and Albert Museum or Kensington Palace, and the local police suddenly are right on top of him. He’s already planning his escape as he sits in a small, isolated cell, and doesn’t expect the man in the fine suit to walk up and address him. Ezekiel plans to put on the charm, talk his way out, until another man steps up behind the first with a familiar bundle of feathers in his arms.

Another deal is struck- Ezekiel will work for them, and in return his cloak will be safe.

On his twentieth birthday Ezekiel flies out of the second most secure building in Great Britain, leaving nothing behind but an empty safe, blaring alarms, and all his duties in MI6.

He stops carrying his second skin with him, instead keeping it back in the heavy oak trunk that had been its home for as long as he’d lived in his parents’ house and making regular trips back to see them. He flies only in Australian skies, over the outback and the sea. Ezekiel’d paid for his parents to live a better life before, but now he doesn’t feel safe in it. They’ve moved out into the brush rather than stay in the city, changed to yet another name, and except nothing more than gifts of foreign foods. They want him to be safe as much as he wants it of them.

When he’s twenty-three, the Library comes calling again, this time in the form of Flynn Carson. It takes a while before Ezekiel finds out why the man so openly doesn’t like him- really, if they man hadn’t been so dense as to fall for his tricks in Cairo, he wouldn’t have been playing scapegoat for that museum robbery- but he follows him into the world of magic anyway. It’s new and different and exciting. His first time back in Britain, and oh does his skin crawl as he worries about agents popping out of every shrub and doorway, but he gets to steal from the Tower of London. He makes friends for the first time in his life. Alright, maybe not Flynn. Or Colonel Baird. Or Stone. And Jenkins he’s sure would rather throw him to a pack of wolves than look at him. But he and Cassandra get along. He likes her, feels comfortable around her, and he if there’s one thing about Flynn he likes it’s that he forgives her for betraying them as fast as Ezekiel does.

Months, years, pass and though Flynn runs off the rest of them continue on as a team. They grow closer, learn how to work together, how to maximize each other’s strengths. The world gets saved over and over, people are rescued, people are protected, magical items are released from those that would use them for evil. Minotaurs are set free, STEM fairs are saved, wars are stopped and bonds are formed. Stone falls in love, Flynn saves Baird’s life, Ezekiel helps Frankenstein’s monster find his place in the world.

One day, Ezekiel goes home, and when he comes back it’s with a familiar pile of feathers that he slips behind a bookcase in the Annex.

He can’t think of anywhere more safe.

#fanfic

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jesseneufeld · 5 years

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Life Is Full of Adventure and Possibility

It’s Monday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Monday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

My first MDA Success Story was published in June 2016. Towards the end I said “My story isn’t over. It is just beginning.”

Those words couldn’t be more true.

That success story was about overcoming decades of chronic cystic acne, along with digestive issues and anxiety.

And the Primal lifestyle truly helped me to accomplish all of that. After decades as a vegetarian, pescetarian, and sometimes raw vegan, making a gradual transition to a Primal diet really changed my life.

The big thing for me was the acne. It’s painful enough to grow up with it, but for me it never really went away, despite every prescription drug in the book. There were even three rounds of Accutane along with some horrible side effects. Removing grains and dairy and adding animal protein and fat back into my diet reduced the inflammation very quickly, and within about a month my skin looked dramatically different.

At the same time my skin was miraculously clearing up, my sometimes debilitating digestive issues and anxiety quietly left the room.

And if my story ended there, it would have been a happy ending.

But things just keep getting better.

At the age of 51, my energy levels have increased and I have better body composition than ever. But it’s so much more than that. I’m more adventurous, confident, creative and intuitive.

Since my last success story was published, I’ve gradually transitioned to a keto lifestyle. I refer to it as “borderline keto” since I do not track or measure anything. I know that works great for some people, I just don’t care for it. But by increasing the healthy fats and moderating the protein I feel even more focused and energetic. Even though I had already made the switch, reading The Keto Reset Diet was helpful, and I’ve recommended it to so many people.

I’ve also completed my Primal Health Coach certification (even though I had another health coaching certification under my belt already.) I believe so strongly in the value of this lifestyle and want to learn everything I can, so I continue to educate myself by attending events like Paleo f(x) and reading everything I can get my hands on. I’m also taking my first digital cooking class, Paleo Cooking Bootcamp, and loving it.

When my last success story was published I had been writing a blog called “happy, healthy and hot” for about six months. It was mostly recipes and natural beauty tips presented in a playful, sassy style.

As I wanted to share my message with more people, I started posting on Instagram as well (@happyhealthyandhot_elizabeth), and eventually started sharing more of my lifestyle, including travel, fashion, personal development, and short videos showing easy workouts that I do at home (many times with a cameo appearance by my dog). I used to be a very private person, but I know that sharing these snapshots of my day to day life can show how easy it to live a healthy lifestyle.

I’ve also been featured on other health related websites and have been interviewed for podcasts, including the Primal Blueprint Podcast. Love sharing the happy, healthy and hot message with as many people as I can.

I truly believe that everyone deserves to look and feel amazing, and the Primal lifestyle is a great way to start. Living this way should be fun and easy…if it feels like a chore you’re not doing it right!

What started out as a little health blog is organically growing into a lifestyle brand with followers from all over the world.

Is my life perfect? Absolutely not. During this time I’ve dealt with some major personal challenges just like everyone else. But I’ve come out of them stronger than ever.

People are always asking me what I eat. Here’s a typical day… I start with lemon water and coffee. I always blend Collagen Peptides or Collagen Fuel (vanilla is my fave) into the coffee. There’s usually a blended green drink too…typically something like spinach or baby kale and fresh lemon.

A few hours later I get hungry for some real food, and might make eggs with leftover veggies, or just eat leftovers from the night before.

A second meal will be another form of protein…fish and beef are my favorites and a bunch of non starchy veggies. For example, today I had salmon, roasted brussels sprouts and avocado as a late lunch. Salmon or sardines make an appearance a few times a week…love what they do for my skin.

I’ve tried intermittent fasting but don’t do it on a regular basis. Instead, I just try to listen to my body and eat when I’m truly hungry. Lately I find myself eating two meals rather than three, and maybe having some small snacks.

Most days I’ll have a few squares of super dark chocolate or some type of Paleo “treat,” especially if I’m trying out a new recipe for happy, healthy and hot. Totally enjoy dry red wine from time to time too.

I’m not really into supplements, with the exception of using Collagen Peptides in some form every single day of my life. I’ve been doing this for years, and my skin is firmer now at the age of 51 than it was ten years ago. I also think the collagen keeps me from getting sore when I work out. Some nights I take a magnesium supplement before bed, and the only multi I will take is Primal Master Formula.

I don’t belong to a gym, although I have in the past. For now, I feel great doing some simple workouts at home (love my boss ball) and my dog forces me to get out and walk every single day. Working part time as a bartender is pretty physical too.

There are two things I plan to add this year to increase my fitness: sprinting and pull-ups. I learned so much about the value of sprinting in the Primal Health Coach course, but still haven’t made it part of my fitness routine. So this is the year! And right now I can’t do a pull up to save my life, but that’s going to change in 2018.

I’ve attached some pics from a recent trip to the Bahamas with my daughter, and one from a recipe I posted on my blog.

So I’ll say it again��my story is just beginning. Life is full of adventure and possibility. Can’t wait to see where the next few years take me. Thanks for reading!

The readers featured in our success stories share their experiences in their own words. The Primal Blueprint and Keto Reset diets are not intended as medical intervention or diagnosis. Nor are they replacements for working with a qualified healthcare practitioner. It’s important to speak with your doctor before beginning any new dietary or lifestyle program, and please consult your physician before making any changes to medication or treatment protocols. Each individual’s results may vary.

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milenasanchezmk · 5 years

Text

Life Is Full of Adventure and Possibility

My first MDA Success Story was published in June 2016. Towards the end I said “My story isn’t over. It is just beginning.”

Those words couldn’t be more true.

That success story was about overcoming decades of chronic cystic acne, along with digestive issues and anxiety.

At the same time my skin was miraculously clearing up, my sometimes debilitating digestive issues and anxiety quietly left the room.

And if my story ended there, it would have been a happy ending.

But things just keep getting better.

At the age of 51, my energy levels have increased and I have better body composition than ever. But it’s so much more than that. I’m more adventurous, confident, creative and intuitive.

What started out as a little health blog is organically growing into a lifestyle brand with followers from all over the world.

Is my life perfect? Absolutely not. During this time I’ve dealt with some major personal challenges just like everyone else. But I’ve come out of them stronger than ever.

A few hours later I get hungry for some real food, and might make eggs with leftover veggies, or just eat leftovers from the night before.

I’ve attached some pics from a recent trip to the Bahamas with my daughter, and one from a recipe I posted on my blog.

So I’ll say it again…my story is just beginning. Life is full of adventure and possibility. Can’t wait to see where the next few years take me. Thanks for reading!

The post Life Is Full of Adventure and Possibility appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

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cynthiamwashington · 5 years

Text

Life Is Full of Adventure and Possibility

My first MDA Success Story was published in June 2016. Towards the end I said “My story isn’t over. It is just beginning.”

Those words couldn’t be more true.

That success story was about overcoming decades of chronic cystic acne, along with digestive issues and anxiety.

At the same time my skin was miraculously clearing up, my sometimes debilitating digestive issues and anxiety quietly left the room.

And if my story ended there, it would have been a happy ending.

But things just keep getting better.

At the age of 51, my energy levels have increased and I have better body composition than ever. But it’s so much more than that. I’m more adventurous, confident, creative and intuitive.

What started out as a little health blog is organically growing into a lifestyle brand with followers from all over the world.

Is my life perfect? Absolutely not. During this time I’ve dealt with some major personal challenges just like everyone else. But I’ve come out of them stronger than ever.

A few hours later I get hungry for some real food, and might make eggs with leftover veggies, or just eat leftovers from the night before.

I’ve attached some pics from a recent trip to the Bahamas with my daughter, and one from a recipe I posted on my blog.

So I’ll say it again…my story is just beginning. Life is full of adventure and possibility. Can’t wait to see where the next few years take me. Thanks for reading!

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Article source here:Marks’s Daily Apple

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cheymonet · 6 years

Text

Letter #41

Dear Majic,

I really like dogs. I really think I will always have a dog the rest of my life because this whole time Kodi has been with me lots. It hasn’t mattered to Kodi whether I was happy or sad or if I’ve done something bad or good, he’s always been here. The loyalty of this dog. I don’t know how to explain it. Like last night, the whole phone call I had with you as soon as I started crying he put his head on me like he knew I needed someone. I think I will always want a dog like that. Or any loyal pet, I mean I loved Casper, another fish would be awesome but fish don’t live that long and I can’t move a fish if I don’t know where I’ll be living in the next year let alone the next month.

I know this is kind of random, but I really want to go on a road trip with you. I want to go from Vancouver to the other side of Canada one day, maybe not by car, but by train or something. I want to show you my favorite road trip I took with my family. Where you drive down from DC to Orlando. That’s like the road trip I want to take you on because it’s amazing. Like American road trip style and we can end up in Orlando where we can go to Walt Disney World, Universal, and there’s the best road side attraction on the border of North and South Carolina. It’s called South of the border. It’s the weirdest thing eveeerrr. Like for miles they advertise this place and when you get about 30minutes away from the border of North and South Carloina, all you see is this big ass sombrero just chilling on this huge ass tower, like Eiffel tower of sombrero. It’s like a tiny ass amusement park/red neck tourist spot with a little motel and a reptile museum. I fucking loved this place. My parents hated it, but my brother and I always got so hyped up because for miles theres is nothing and then this thing appears. It’s a little racist cause it’s called pedroland. And they sell a lot of fireworks because every place in America that has nothing around sells firework so we can set those off. Kiawah island is like my favorite vacation I went with my parents as a kid in South Carolina, I pet a alligator. Also, had several dreams later after getting eaten by one, but I guess that can’t be too bad. I also, want to go to like the island one day and do a whole tour of the island. Like tofino, duncan, where charlie lives, and all the random things on that island you grew up on. Maybe meet you dad, even though he will probably always hate me like my parents for you, I mean I understand parents just don’t like seeing there kids hurt. I’m sure I’ll grow on him though with time. Oh and going to the Napa Valley and going wine tasting driving down from Vancouver. I mean one road trip at a time, but I want to adventure with you when your ready. That’s what I look forward most for doing again.

Food is also something I can’t really eat anymore either. I used to get super excited to have Taco Bell, now I find it as mundane as any fast food place now. I almost hate it. My mom took me to Jinya and she ordered the Brussels sprout tempura and I started tearing up. I don’t know I just don’t get the same amount of joy from the food that used to bring me so much joy with you. So, when I heard you can’t eat ramen or do things too, it made me sad to hear. It’s probably worse because we made a lot of memories there in Vancouver. All I really have is Doug and the memories in my head. You have everything there. I gave up everything so you can have it all.

I know how much you hate me thinking about my future because it gives you too much pressure, but it keeps me motivated. Proving my parents wrong used to be my motivation in life and then I met you and that didn’t matter anymore. It became making sure you were proud of me. I know it got derailed by my stupidness a lot, but it’s always been to make you proud. I know, I do things because I’m reckless and stupid, but what keeps me going is my motivation to make someone in my life proud. Now, you and my parents are ashamed of me. It sucks a lot. Failure makes me feel awful and failure makes me freak out. I had everything and lost everything.

Also, can we please work on not yelling at each other when your ready. I really don’t like it. I know I’m dumb and need to be told over and over sometimes, but I just ask the same questions to understand things. I don’t ask it because I forgot, I just want to know better and understand. Like when you told me you want me at your graduation, I didn’t understand why because you just would keep saying you wanted me there. I wasn’t listening probably and I’m working on that, but also if things are really important to you just tell me its really important. Like make sure I know, it’s really important and like tell me No is not an option. You don’t have to compromise with me if it’s important to you. Yelling triggers me and I work really hard not to snap, but I snapped two days ago on the phone. I feel people yell just to make themselves sound superior and I don’t like feeling inferior. I don’t think you should ever have to yell at me to tell me your right. Yelling makes me want to fight back so that people don’t think I’m weak and a failure. I really need to learn to not snap, but less yelling and maybe more patience on my side is a good start.

I kind of let go a lot of the guilt and pain after our talk. It is easier to trust you then it is to force myself to forget and hate you. I couldn’t get myself to move on and I tried really hard to hate you and forget about you. Every time I tried, you were there for me. That’s why I wanted you to let me go. I needed you to let me go if there was no hope because I couldn’t do it.

This tattoo will definitely make sure I don’t forget you. I’m kind of scared. It’s going to be on my hands you know. I’ll see it everyday. I’m going to be one of those people who will never understand why I got an ex’s name tattooed on me.

I trust you’ll be safe and if you need anything you’ll let me know. Let me know okay. Man I feel like one of those momma seagulls pushing their baby bird off the room hoping they will fly and come home. Did I ever say I actually got to see one of the big seagulls do it to one of their baby birds. It was like two seagulls that pushed this little guy off but they only pushed one off not the other baby. I guess one grew up faster. I really hope you don’t get run over by a car like that time I had to see it. God that traumatized me. To watch these seagulls grow up to get killed by a car, humanity may be tossed a bit with our evolution.

It’ll make me so sad if someone hurts you while your doing your thing. I don’t know how you made me so maternal. Am I maternal? Or am I just growing up. Maybe I grew up and you grew down. I’m not saying that as an insult it’s just, I think it’s a good thing because I think you grew up to quick. You had to, you know. You moved out here and then the person you trusted kicked you out. You’ve been fighting for so long, and you never got to just do whatever you wanted. You’ve always had something to worry about. Your life finally got stable so I guess it makes sense you want to do what you never done before. You don’t have to fight anymore for a roof over your head or a job to feed you and your obsession for great clothe. I think you finally have it all and I guess it was time to trim the useless stuff out of your life. I don’t know for me I think what told me I was done with my twenties was the fact that my life was stable. I had a great girl, great job, great life, and I just wanted to keep it forever, that’s why I was ready to settle down with you. I was done making a fool of myself and just wanted to be nothing but responsible. Maybe you just waited until your life was stable to have your wild twenties, which is the smarter thing to do i’m sure. Like in life you are either the person that jumps head first hoping you don’t die or your the one who tests the waters before jumping in. We’re just opposite type of people.

Have fun okay. I won’t tell anyone about you anymore, you know to respect your wishes that no one needs to know what I think of you and what you think of me. I just feel a bit ashamed that I’ll have to lie.

I think I’m going to start writing more. I don’t know specifically what, but all these letters kind of showed me that I have something to say.

Sincerely Yours,

Chey

#love letter #i love you #i miss you #girlswholikegirls #i fucked up #i'm sorry #love letters #lgbt #iak #spilled words #my words #personal

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aswelearntolove · 7 years

Text

long update about how things are still the same.

I told myself I'd try to blog regularly about our life. For those who are far, and for us too. I want to try to find words for the feelings certain seasons bring and remember. For human mind, my mind, is so quick to forget. To forget the bad we have overcome and the good we have come to. The valleys God has lead us through and the blessings He poured down. So here I sit, writing down some bits of what the last month or two looked like.

Ever since we came to Czech Josh has been busier than me, taking Czech classes, and teaching a couple English classes, while I spend time at home and hoped to get some photoshoots to line up. Other than that we have been dealing with paperwork, getting Josh’s visa, applying for mine, getting our marriage approved in Czech etc.

In the end of May Josh left for a month, going to States to photograph and celebrate his friend's wedding in Texas, and visit family and friends in California. I couldn't come with him because for some reason I have been unable to get even just a simple travel visa to come for a short time. Once again, we were standing at the airport on an early morning, hugging each other tight but quick, trying to be brave about the unwilling goodbye we hoped to never have to go through again. And just like that we went back to messages and skype. Skype, it used to be my daily way of talking to Josh, but it has barely been logged into on my laptop in months.

And even though it was "just" a month, it was hard. My physical body responded to the emotional pain I was feeling as I didn't want to leave the bed the next day. Part of me was missing. All the feelings of being parted throughout our relationship flooded back again and I couldn't shake them off. The reality of being married felt even more abstract and unreachable. It was just me, back in my room in Czech, living my life with my family, with someone I love on the other side of the world. Back to normal, right?

I got busy and photoshoots finally started to fill my time. I spent more time with my sweet little niece. Our cat had four little adorable kittens. I started working on different projects, like my first official wedding invitation. I went to see Rend Collective in Prague. And the month was suddenly over...

...I was driving through the fields to pick up this stranger at the airport. I couldn’t wait to hug Josh, but at the same time I didn’t know how I was going to get used to having him here again. In kind of a weird way it felt more natural and normal to me to be here on my own. This is my part of the world, my room, my simple life, that Josh only came to once in a while for a visit, for a vacation, but doing life here together under the same circumstances is a whole new thing that I am unable to get used to. My mind can’t comprehend the fact that we are married, that some things should be different, that we are here (unexpectedly) long-term and not just on vacation.

As soon as Josh came we had a lot going on. Three weddings to photograph together in two weeks, and then we went on our first trip as just the two of us to Amsterdam, Brussels, and Paris. (but more about that later. maybe.)

As far as my visa goes we heard nothing new other than that they got our application. One thing moving forward though is that our marriage finally got approved in Czech, we have a Czech marriage license, and I finally got a passport and ID with my new name. Woohoo, 8 months later and I can finally sign my name as Sutherland. And Josh got a 5-year long visa that allows him to live and work in Czech, so at least we can both legally live in one country !

But somehow it still feels like we are sorta trapped here and another reminder of it came. My dear friend Eli is getting married in September and we desperately wanted to come and celebrate that ! We hoped to come and capture the special the day for Eli and Mauri, and they patiently waited for us to find out if I can get a travel visa with my new passport. The embassy told me it shouldn’t be a problem, but for some reason it got denied by the online system again. I was so heartbroken that I can’t even come to the US for a week, to celebrate my friend’s wedding. It just doesn’t seem fair, and it makes no sense at all. And in the midst of this mess I am trying to not grow bitter, and to trust that God knows what He’s doing even if I absolutely don’t understand.

So here we are. Still waiting. And struggling. We are wanting to enjoy the time we have here so bad but we just really feel out of place. I longingly look back at our month in Maui when we lived alone as a married couple and grew into a new chapter of our life. Only to be pulled out of it, and put behind the starting line to wait again. I long for community and for friends we can both talk to comfortably. I long for date nights and quiet evenings as just the two of us. And I know that this is a part of our story. That the first year of our marriage looks a lot different than we pictured it, but that it still is our first year of marriage, and it is going to shape us, and grow us. But I just can’t shake the feeling of being stuck and wanting to move forward. Not understanding why God has us here when it only seems to be hurting us. When we don’t really see a purpose for us to be here, at least not this way, and not right now. But I keep trusting that He will use this for something good! I keep praying that I don’t waste this time I have for something that’s not yet. That I have more days when I embrace the situation we’re in with grace and gratitude rather than bitterness and resignation.

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jesseneufeld · 5 years

Text

Life Is Full of Adventure and Possibility

My first MDA Success Story was published in June 2016. Towards the end I said “My story isn’t over. It is just beginning.”

Those words couldn’t be more true.

That success story was about overcoming decades of chronic cystic acne, along with digestive issues and anxiety.

At the same time my skin was miraculously clearing up, my sometimes debilitating digestive issues and anxiety quietly left the room.

And if my story ended there, it would have been a happy ending.

But things just keep getting better.

At the age of 51, my energy levels have increased and I have better body composition than ever. But it’s so much more than that. I’m more adventurous, confident, creative and intuitive.

What started out as a little health blog is organically growing into a lifestyle brand with followers from all over the world.

Is my life perfect? Absolutely not. During this time I’ve dealt with some major personal challenges just like everyone else. But I’ve come out of them stronger than ever.

A few hours later I get hungry for some real food, and might make eggs with leftover veggies, or just eat leftovers from the night before.

I’ve attached some pics from a recent trip to the Bahamas with my daughter, and one from a recipe I posted on my blog.

So I’ll say it again…my story is just beginning. Life is full of adventure and possibility. Can’t wait to see where the next few years take me. Thanks for reading!

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