#removals Wimbledon

[sw19confidentalclinic]

Every individual will have their own case as no two mouths appear the same. You may talk to your local dentist in Wimbledon who can help in solving your tooth extraction aftercare uk oral issues for a healthy mouth.

[russo-woso]

Wimbledon || Leah Williamson

Based on this Request here. Thank you anon for sending it in :)

First of all, I don’t know anything about tennis or Wimbledon so this was a guess. Hopefully it works like this.

Warning smut, cunnilingus, semi-public sex, top!leah

Tennis had always been your life.

Your mum and her sisters had grown up playing tennis, and so you were bound to play it too.

Being the only daughter, niece and granddaughter, it was up to you to continue their legacy.

And that’s what you did.

You collapsed to the floor in happiness as the ball hit your racket for the final time.

After weeks of going through knockout stages, you had won.

After years of injuries and constant hard work, you had won.

Winning Wimbledon had only ever been your dream since the age of four, and here you were collecting the trophy from princess Kate.

Lifting the trophy up in the air, your eyes connected with your family, tears streaming down their faces, but there was another person who looked even more prouder.

Your fiancé, Leah, was sat next to your mum, smiling through the tears that welled in her eyes.

You blew her a kiss, Leah immediately blowing one back.

Once shaking hands with everyone, you made your way back to your designated changing room where you were met with Leah.

Leah had her arms open, waiting for you to jump in them.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” She mumbled in your hair, placing you back on the ground before putting her lips on yours. “Listen, your family wants to go out for dinner and they’ve reserved the table for 5:30 so you’ve got just under an hour to get ready.”

“Okay, perfect. God, I can’t believe I just won Wimbledon. I’ve dreamed of winning it since I was four, Le.” You tell her and once again, she envelops you in a hug.

“I know, pretty girl and I am so proud of you.” You connected your lips with Leah’s, the kiss becoming passionate very quickly.

“Here’s the star girl. Well done hunny.” Your mum walked through the door, you and Leah separating very quickly.

“Thanks mum. It’s all thank to you that I’m here today. Thank you.” You said, hugging her.

“It’s all you, darling. You’re here today because you worked for it. Now hurry up, you two stop kissing and actually get changed. I’m not having us be late for our reservation.”

————————

“Le, stop it.” You whisper to her, removing her curious hand from your thigh.

“Come on, pretty girl, I’m just resting my hand there.” Leah responded, putting her hand on the original place it was in before it started travelling.

You looked up and tried to join the conversation but was soon distracting by Leah’s lingering fingers travelling up your thigh.

“I — umm — Do you mind if I take a minute? Le, come with.” You stuttered, stumbling out of your chair, before practically dragging Leah to the toilets. “What’s up with—” You began asking Leah but you were cut off with her lips on yours.

“I just wanna show you how proud I am.” Leah said, separating your lips from hers, reconnecting them to your jaw seconds later.

You whined as Leah nipped at your neck, marking it gently and leaving light red marks.

“We’re gonna have to be quick, love, okay? Be quiet.”

Leah’s hands travelled down your body before reaching up your dress.

“Le, please. Please don’t tease.” You whined into her shoulder, resting your head on it.

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t.”

You felt Leah’s hand touch your clit and your knees buckled from beneath you, luckily Leah held you up.

“Good girl, keep quiet.” Leah said, circling your clit at a set pace.

“Oh god - Le, it feels so good.”

“I know it does baby, but keep quiet.”

“I don’t think I can, le.” You managed to mumble into Leah’s shoulder as moans escaped your mouth.

“Lift your head up.” Leah commanded and you obeyed, meeting Leah’s eyes.

Within seconds, Leah’s lips were on yours, Leah swallowing your moans.

“I’m close, le. I’m so close. Oh god - I’m gonna cum.”

You took ahold of Leah’s neck, pulling her into you so your lips were on hers, Leah swallowing all your orgasmic moans.

“I love you so much.” You told Leah, separating your lips.

“I love you too, pretty girl. We’ll continue this when we get home, okay? I’m gonna make you know how proud I am.” Leah stated, pressing her lips on your head as she helped you gain your balance on the floor.

“Y/N, Leah, are you in there?” You heard your mums voice say through the toilet door.

“Umm, yes mum, we’ll be out in a minute.” You said, stuttering some of your words.

“We’ll try leave early. I’ll come up with an excuse.” Leah told you with a smirk, opening the door and putting her hand in yours.

It was going to be a sinful night.

Requests are open :)

[outsideratheart]

plsss something for Meet Me At Henman Hill, where reader come back home to Leah after winning the Australian Open

Dreams do come true (Leah Williamson x reader)

The adrenaline from winning the Australian open was the only thing keeping you from succumbing to exhaustion.

The final itself has been one of the most physical matches you had played but going up against Aryna, you expected nothing less. It was one of your favourite matches but the heat and strength you used to play caused you to have very little left in the tank by the time your flight lands at London Heathrow.

You could have gone home to change and rest a little but you wanted to soak in the pre match atmosphere at The Emirates.

The streets were packed, the fans were singing and you could have sworn you heard someone playing a french horn.

Inside the stadium your eyes fell to Leah who was on the pitch warming up. From the box you knew she couldn’t see you but it didn’t stop you from waving when she looked your way.

“She’s finally getting her turn” Alex joined you outside.

“Al, I’m so proud of her”

Leah’s determination throughout her recovery had truly been inspiring. She worked hard and never gave up, oh and she learnt how to play the piano in her spare time. She amazed you day in and day out.

“She’s proud of you too you know. We watched the match together. Congratulations by the way”

Leah had only been able to see you play live twice. The first time was Wimbledon then in the summer she came to New York to support you in the US open. Her support was unwavering and today you hoped to show the same level of support. Whilst it wasn’t your first Arsenal game, it was the first time you’d be seeing Leah play live.

You cheered loudly and joined in with the fan chants for the entire game.

“She’s one of our own. She’s one of our own. Leah Williamson, she’s one of our own” you sang proudly.

When the game was over Alex asked a member of security to lead you down to the tunnel where you waited for your girlfriend to come off the pitch. You weren’t exactly wearing a disguise, only a white cap, but you hoped you would go unnoticed as players walked past you. A few of them congratulated you and you thanked them politely all whilst keeping you eyes on the entrance.

Beth tells you that Leah is doing some media and that you can wait in the locker room for her. She points out Leah’s locker and you take a seat. You noticed a small Polaroid stuck to the side, it was one that her mum took of the two you at Christmas. You removed it from the locker and took a photo of it on your phone.

You felt her presence without looking up.

“Hi my love” you picked her up and spun her around “You just played a sold out Emirates stadium”

When you put her down you noticed her eyes were glassed over.

Leah wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she just lived her dream or the fact that she hadn’t seen you in almost two months but she was truly happy in that moment.

“It’s my dream” that was all Leah could say.

She grew up watching the men’s team sell out the emirates and for a long time it seemed the undreamable dream for her but here she is.

“Let me get a quick shower and we can go home”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not for the next two weeks” you pull her in for a short but deep kiss before sitting back down in her locker.

When you’re back at Leah’s you start preparing dinner whilst she gets changed. When you enter the living room you see her taking selfies with your trophy, even kissing it.

“Hey! Save some for me!”

Leah hadn’t heard you come up and jumps upon hearing your voice. Her cheeks flush in embarrassment of being caught fan girling over the Daphne Akhurst Memorial Cup.

“This thing is huge. Where are you going to put it?” Leah asked as she placed it down gently on her coffee table.

“I don’t know. Do you have room anywhere?”

“You’re giving it to me?” Leah didn’t get what you meant.

“You’ve inspired me more than you realise Leah. Watching you work your arse off to get back on the pitch made me want to be a better tennis player”

You watch as your girlfriend stands up and takes your trophy. Leah pretends to give an acceptance speech which you hate to admit but it was better than yours. Then again the blonde always did have a way with words.

[cazzyf1]

James Hunt with his budgie collection

An article about it under the cut

Last weekend, I found myself at the World Budgerigar Championships, held at Doncaster race course. My guide was James Hunt, world motor racing champion for the 1976 season and of late an ardent breeder of budgerigars: greens, grey- greens, sky blues, dominant pieds and the like. In return for carrying my share of his nine chosen birds in and out of the hall he would transport me from Flood Street to Doncaster and back again. We put our budgies under wraps in the Estate boot and drove north. As we drove, James ex- plained budgies, their infinite variety and perfections of type. Looking straight at a show budgie one should not be able to see the eyes; broad- ness of head is commendable, as is a steep lift to the plumage, a long straight back, sleek body and proud tail. The spots under the neck merit special attention. Usually there are six forming a broken ring but false spot feathers can emerge and these have to be tweezered out. Another area of concern is the head plumage, which can develop waxy quill feathers and blood specks.

Budgies moult in October. Doncaster, the most prestigious show of them all, is held annually in early November. It is therefore a race to bring them back into good condition. Ten days before James had visited a couple of top breeders and found their birds in a shocking state. He doubted that they would be ready in time. I commiserated with him on their behalf. We then moved on to the question of breeding. James only shows birds he has bred himself. His prize accolade so far is second place in the Beginner Breeder class at Blackpool, almost as big an event as the one we were heading for. Pairing takes place in late November, so he was absorbed with the permutations. After this season, his second in the budgie world, he intends to put it all on a computer prog- rammed by an acquaintance in the blood stock industry.

`It's like breeding racehorses, only cheaper,' he explained; 'a good budgie can sell for a thousand pounds, more to a German or Swede, not that I pay anything like that. The most so far is a hundred pounds.' James, like many self-made millionaires, is prouder of his caution about money than its possession. If he gets his pairings right this year, the basis will be laid for a first-class stud. Cock it up and he's back at square one.

The action takes place in his back garden, an acre and a half just off Wimbledon Common. As he travels heavily for the BBC during the motor racing season he has a curator, the correct word, of budgerigars. Indoor and outdoor flight pens give his birds the freedom and communion which he believes are essential to their development. Not all breeders agree, holding that show budgies are as far removed from their cousins who flock in the Australian out- back as those dying generations are to Yeat's artifice of hammered gold and gold enamelling. It was not a simile I tried on James as I wanted him to concentrate on the road.

`Under your feet are some supplies for the journey.' I had already heard the odd crackle and rustle. Sure enough, there were packets of crisps and chocolate, all now washed in a litre of orange juice that had spilt from its plastic bottle and in- formed the road map. I apologised for my ineptness, but there was worse to come. Throughout the journey, which was nearing completion in the Doncaster one-way system, James had fretted about his feather-pulling tweezers, hoping they were buried deep in a trouser pocket. This proved not to be the case. They had fallen between his seat and the doings of the German hydraulic system. His hand could not reach them with ease. I volunteered mine as being slimmer. He warned me that if the tweezers fell any further they would be unsalvageable, lost forever. In went my hand, down went the tweezers. 'That's very naughty, Napier. I told you to be careful and what do you do? Charge at it without any thought.' So my first task on reaching the Danum Hotel, Doncaster, was to ask the lady receptionist — still agog at matching her booking name of J.S.W. Hunt to the reality — for tweezers without which our budgies might as well stay in the boot. Thank God for Allens the all-night chemist and their range of broad-, slant-, and curved-headed tweezers at £1.29p a shot.

By the time I returned, James and the budgies were in my bathroom — smaller than his, so less problematic if one escaped. Two needed their heads washed free of quill wax and blood specks. A sky-blue cock had developed an extra spot feather. The tweezers were presented and found adequate. Deftly he probed to the base of the feather and pulled. Out it came and we both felt relieved. Washed and petted, the budgies, each in a black- enamelled portable showcase, looked their full importance. It was time for us to take them to the show where they would spend the night, be judged in the morning and thereafter open to public view.

A night on the town in Doncaster. In our second pub there was a fight. Three girls, about 18, fell to the ground, two tugging at hair while their friend inevitably paid the higher price for interfering. No one else made the same mistake. A pause for breath and acrimony, then back into the routine. The moment they decided that no man was worth such punishment the bouncers moved in and swept them out. Later in the evening we saw the three of them together enjoying a joke. The pub and club centre of Doncaster is small enough to walk round. We kept on seeing the same faces circling and finally asking for James's autograph with lines like 'I know who you are, at least my father does'. In London he barely incurs a glance. But at the night club, Rotters, we found our entrance barred by a further charm of bouncers. `Where do you come from, please, gentlemen? London? What, may I ask, are you doing in Doncaster?'

`We're up for the budgie show.' The door was flung open. Budgies are great levellers.

Next day, James admitted what I had already begun to suspect, that exhibiting budgies was far more exciting than winning a Grand Prix. 'After the first third of a race you usually know you can win, barring mechanical failure. With budgies the adre- nalin is there right up to the moment you walk in and see how you have done.' We walked in. Stretching the length of the Doncaster Race Hall were showcases in three tiered lines, nearly 6,000 entries in 392 classes. It took adrenalin-pumped minutes to find any class James had entered. The world became a clearer place, full of stewards in purple badges, men last seen in our hotel lift, now turned into awesome judges, serious punters in cloth caps with a jaunty budgie feather. The floor was covered in brown seed, scuffed by the birds out of their cages. We passed the cages of successful champions, surrounded by plush velvet boards and trios with red, blue and green rosettes on them and sometimes extra awards from provincial bodies affiliated to the Budgerigar Society. We passed classes with names like 'Recessive Pied Breeder Hens' and swatches of colour the like of which Scott Crolla only dreams. We overheard snatches of conversation: `That's a big bird, champion,' Not enough feather on the little blighter,' and men rattling bars to get the birds onto their perches for a better look or photograph.

At the far left of the hall we reached the Beginner Breeder section and the end of our quest was bitter disappointment. A fourth, a fifth, and two sixth places. Not one rosette to show for it all, let alone the Best Beginner Breeder trophy that had seemed possible.

`Bad luck, James, it's a bloody high- standard show. Nice looking birds, I must say. Wouldn't swop your one for anything but the winner.'

The commiserations in broad and know- ledgeable Yorkshire were far more effective than my plaintive twittering. James took his disappointment well: 'It's all good experience. I now know how good one's birds have to be, so good that there's no dispute.'

`So you'll be coming back then, James?'

`Certainly.'

[newtonsheffield]

So Anthony is the player’s box (that apostrophe really stumped me and I’m still not convinced 🤔) Is he supportive, antagonistic, petty, quietly anxious? All of the above? Would love to see a snippet of him supporting Kate because apparently (and unsurprisingly) I am very specifically hooked on that. 🎾

Yeah he’s pretty much all of the above. Only he doesn’t want Kate to see most of it because he needs to be focused on herself. Not being being an idiot.

But he feels every shot when Kate plays. He Sits in the box and watches anxiously. He even feels nerves flutter through him when they have breakfast the morning of a final. Just a month after Wimbledon they’re having breakfast in her hotel room in New York and Anthony has no idea how to act.

“Are you… sure you don’t want coffee?”

Kate raised her eyebrows, “Why would I want coffee?”

Anthony hesitated, looking to Edwina for help. She scoffed, “All yours buddy.”

“It’s… just that you’re… drinking mine.”

Kate raised her eyebrows in question as if to say And? And Anthony decided not to push the topic, clearing his throat. “Nervous about today?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

He felt a little helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do for her even as they left the car with camera lights flashing and her fingers intertwined in his as people clamoured for her attention.

“You feel good right?” Anthony said, his stomach churning with anxiety for her as they stood outside the entrance to the dressing room. “No soreness or anything. No nerves?”

Kate shook her head, kissing his cheek. “You kept me calm I guess. I’ll see you after. Love you.”

Anthony nodded, kissing her quickly. “Love you. You’re gonna be great!”

Anxiety still churned as he took his seat between Mary and Edwina, “Fuck it is hard on this side of things.”

Mary hummed, waving as someone called her name. “It’s an art form.”

“Why am I nervous for her?”

He can hardly watch it, for his nerves honestly, leaning right forward. Leaping to his feet as her first serve is an ace.

“Yes, Baby!” He clapped his hands watching Kate’s lips curve in a smirk as she heard him.

It’s going well, right up until the beginning of the second set. When the ball clearly bounces out, and the Umpire says

“Point Cowper.”

“That was out.” Anthony gasped, turning to Mary who nodded.

“I thought it was.”

Kate did as well he thought, staring at the line. He could practically see the decision she was trying to make. Whether or not to challenge.

“That was out!” Anthony called over the murmuring crowd who wondered the same thing.

“Quiet on court.”

“That was OUT!” Anthony called again, standing with his hands on his hips and the Umpire turned looking him dead in the eye.

“Mr Bridgerton, don’t make me have you removed from the stands for coaching from the sidelines.”

Kate was laughing along with the crowd, blowing him a kiss as she walked towards the Umpire herself, saying something Anthony couldn’t hear.

“Sharma to challenge.”

And it’s with excellent satisfaction that the ball is in fact called out as Anthony settled back in his seat.

“Knew it.”

“You might want to pace yourself.” Mary chuckled, “I have a feeling you’re going to be doing this for a while. The support is… very sweet actually. Her Appa used to do the same for me.”

[findingnemosworld]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @a-little-bit-rascal

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥.

Y/N was a firm believer of fate, that whatever occurs was predetermined for her - and apparently going through two heartbreaks seemed to be the case, and while it does not seem that big of a deal to some, for her it was; as her heartbreaks were plastered online for everyone to see, Y/N was no ordinary girl, she'd been fortunate to break through the industry as a popular actor and dancer which had garnered her a sizable following, the exact following that saw her break down and come undone only to rise and get straight to work not allowing herself to fully grief the heartbreak until she was in her hometown, and yet somehow, after those heartbreak she was blessed, and it all started the day she had been invited to attend Wimbledon.

She was seated next to a handsome brunette man, around her age dressed in an all black casual yet stylish ensemble, with sunglasses over his eyes, and it wasn't until he removed them that she realized exactly who he was - Chelsea and England's star, Ben Chilwell.

The pair exchanged small talk which quickly formed into a conversation after the event as they exchanged numbers, Ben had even taken the initiative by asking her out on a date, then another and another when time was possible, yet in the midst of those six months nearing seven, they'd never discussed the possibility of becoming anything more than just two adults casually spending time together, while she didn't fault him for not labelling their relationship ( that's if it's a relationship ) she couldn't help but feel lost.

She knew she liked him, quite a lot yet the fear of abandonment, or worse, being dumped for the third time took over, hence why she never brought it up, firmly believing that Ben didn't see them going as far as they can.

Except he did.

You see, while Y/N was stressing over the prospect of them going far in their relationship, Ben was so enamored by her that his England teammates were the unfortunate victims of his affinity for the dancer, particularly James Maddison.

" Mate " James interjects, " I know you're obsessed with her, but for the love of all that is holy, stop! "

It was then that Ben realized that he had been oversharing a bit too much, " Sorry bout that " he murmurs.

" It's fine " James said, " I understand how you feel, I mean I was like that when I first met Kennedy, and here I am, three kids in and happily in love " he grew silent before smiling, " I have an idea, why don't we invite her to come? "

" I don't know mate, she's probably busy " Ben shrugs, as he knew she had a tight schedule of performances and the fact that he didn't want to scare her by making such a big move.

" Listen, Kennedy won't be able to come because she has to watch over the kids, I'll ask her to phone Y/N and see if she can come to Poland instead " James said, then adds with an eye roll, " If she says yes, you will man up, ask her to be your girlfriend and hopefully, get me out of my misery "

____

This is ludicrous, she shouldn't have allowed herself to be persuaded like this yet here she was, at the airport in the small shop looking at something to get for Ben - all the while she was debating if she should just walk out and miss the flight, her thoughts were soon broken by a familiar sound, she looks up to see Aine May in front of her, the girlfriend of Ben's teammate, Conor Gallagher.

" Y/N " Aine May smiles, embracing her before frowning. " You alright? "

Y/N attempted to wave it off with a smile, " Yeah, I just - I was looking for something to get Ben before the flight and I ... " she trails off and swallows the lump in her throat, " Am I making the right choice? I mean, we aren't even serious and here I am acting like a girlfriend " she chuckles.

The blonde girl shakes her head, " Show me your ticket? "

Y/N complies, giving her the ticket; Aine May grins, " we are literally sitting next to one another, come on, I'm getting a new cologne for Conor since he finished his last one "

They spent the next hour roaming through to get what they felt was fitting, and then boarding the flight. Y/N's mind felt messy, yet Aine May assured her that she'll be fine, that Ben would be happy to see her as several of the other WAG's would be there, the only thing she can hope for was that Ben would be happy to see her, otherwise ... this will be a terrible idea.

______________________________________________________________

( I know England flopped in the match but let's pretend they didn't )

The teams were in the tunnel, Ben stood behind James - and while he tried his best to focus, his brain draws back to Y/N and when James turned to him, he sighs. " Mate, relax! " he said, Ben sighs and shakes his head, " I should have asked her to come, I mean ... I miss her a lot, I know I sound like a sap but it's true "

" Yes, you do sound like a sap " James sighs softly, " Now, focus on the game and who knows, maybe she did come, I mean Kennedy didn't say anything but you never know " he shrugs.

They were ushered out onto the pitch, and Ben opted not to dwell on Y/N and instead try his best to pour his focus onto the upcoming match - they'd taken the pictures and were then dispersed onto the pitch in their assigned positions, the first half was definitely intense for England as clearly Ukraine were attempting their best to score early and unfortunately they'd done just that, the goal had definitely placed a damper on them throughout the first half up until the extra minutes when they walked in.

_

Y/N was able to catch the end of the first half and was heartbroken seeing the dejection on Ben as well as the England players as they had hoped not to concede, she took her seat next to Aine May who filled her on what happened earlier, the pair continued to chat until the second half began which seemed to pan out better for England who had thankfully equalized the scoresheet thanks to Kyle Walker's goal.

At around the 58th minute, England were awarded a corner which Ben jogged up to the corner to perform, and right then; he looked up and saw her, his face lights up almost instantly and just then, he turns around executing the corner which thankfully had the ball pushed into the net by Jude Bellingham thus granting England the lead over Ukraine, and provided them with momentum to keep the match in their favor until the very end.

Aine May nudges Y/N to alert her of Ben running over to greet her, what she didn't expect was to be greeted by a warm embrace followed by a soft kiss that radiated a deep sense of longing, " I missed you so much " Ben whispers.

" Yeah? " Y/N beams.

" Thank god you're here " James interrupts them, " He was driving us mad with how much he missed you " he laughs.

" Finally mate " Jude yells with a laugh.

" God knows how long we had to sit and endure him sapping over how much he missed her " Declan joins in.

" Stop it you two " came the voice of their captain and friend Harry Kane, " it's not his fault he's in love " he chuckles.

" But he had us wanting to drive heads up the wall Haz " Jude groans.

" Yeah, plus we couldn't sleep well " Conor said.

Y/N looks at Ben who blushes, " That bad huh? "

" You can't even imagine " Ben chuckles.

[sassyfrassboss]

“I just remember when Catherine put hers on the Sugars went NUTS!”

About Kate wearing a hat at Wimbledon.

That particular Wimbledon took place during an unexpectedly hot 2week period. Temperatures reached afew decimal points over 40C which was so hot it’s a wonder they continued the tournament.

Authorities made allowances for the the unexpected heatwave including allowing the public to wear hats because it was a scorcher.

The previous, comparable heatwave was 1976 when temperatures reached 36C. 

You have to remember that we are a temperate climate country. Our idea of a heatwave is 30C. Very occasionally the temperature goes over and reaches 32C - 33C, but going as high as 40C nevermind over it was as unusual as a hurricane in the UK which we last had in 1987!!!

____

Thank you!

I think it was the year prior they took George and it was a hot day and Sugars were going rabid that he couldn’t remove his jacket...

[sofia-not-sophie]

Okay just finished the rwrb movie spoilers below cut

This movie was fine? I guess? I think it cut a lot of parts that helped me connect to the novel, so while I think it was true to the story I don't think it was adapted in a way that was appealing to me. Mostly for three reasons

Tone: the more serious tone left out a lot of jokes and left aside Henry's theater-kid-like melodrama which I felt like made him way more endearing in the novel. I think of the novel as a funny romance with lots of angst, not a romance with angst and some jokes for flavor. Also it made Alex's character feel like he was moving slower, rather than the mile-a-minute way I feel like Alex was in the novel thanks to the comedic elements and also my second bullet:

Removing angst: the claremont-diaz divorce was so insanely relatable for me so cutting it and removing that hurt from Alex made him less appealing to me as a character, not to mention I feel like it caused him to lose a lot of his drive. This Alex was a character that wanted to be a politician, not an Alex that was floundering for the best way to use his talents, letting it change as he figured out where he could help the most but working hard no matter what. Not to mention I don't feel like Henry (and his family's) grief was explored enough. And also Bea. They made her a prep to cut her powder princess story. wtf. I totally wanted to see punk bea for my lesbian heart to pine over okay

June: She was so important in the novel and the merger of her and Nora's characters for simplicity's sake made movie Nora worse. I like that June gave Alex someone to play off of in both deep and comedic ways. Nora just didn't serve that purpose in the novel, she was a quirky brainy queer character that helped move the plot along (also they cut Nora's agency by making Alex and Henry be outed by Alex's jealous ex instead of political scandal for her to unwravel).

Also they removed Herny's interesting charity work stuff and his whole not touching monarchy money which helped him have more depth. (IDK what that fell under I just had to say that too, though that was sort of minor)

Anyways now what I liked:

Casting, I think it was impeccable, and I really liked who they casted for Phillip (cant be assed to google his name rn but he did great at his role of being resident homophobic asshole). And I did like Uma Thurman as this version of President Claremont. Also the actress for Zahra did amazing at adapting her character.

I liked the way they found times to cut down on plot events (cutting wimbledon and splitting up the big moments from the LA adventure into two other events that they kept, cutting Ellen's "so youre bi and dating a prince" power point but still doing a nod to it in a line)

The choice to lean into spanish language music was great. Literarally just my latino input, not much else to say here

I really liked how they dealt with space and the reading aloud of text conversations in the beginning, I had kinda been hoping it had carried over into the emails, which imo have many more iconic parts to them.

So yeah, good movie I guess, it just isn't as compelling to me as the book because they cut a lot of the stuff that helped me personally connect with characters, especially Alex, but it wasn't an awful adaptation of the story.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to the Season

The Season is the period within the year where the social elite, the wealthy and the noblity usually return to the the city for a long string of events, balls and dinners. It was a time for luxury, for pleasure and most importantly to socially socially by networking.

A Change in Locale

The Season drew all the nobles and wealthy back from their country estates and abroad back to the capital. At the height of the Season in the years preceding WWI, most of the elite held homes within the City where they would move into while the Season was on. There would have been a mad rush to return to the capital in order to be at the very centre of things. Since the English Season always coincides with sittings of Parliament, all members of both Houses take part in the Season.

Social Events of the Year

The Season was a string of events of mixed variety ranging from the arts to sports to royal rituals between April and August. In the UK some the most recognizable events of the year belong to the Season such as the Grand National and Wimbledon. The Season was also the time for debutants to make their social debut and when royal orders such as the Order of the Garter would be bestowed. Between all the official events, most of the nobility and elite would throw dinner parties, tea afternoons, salons and balls.

To give you an idea of the range of events we will use the English Season as an example of all the events that run in this time: Glyndebourne Opera, The Proms, Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, West End theatre Horticulture, Chelsea Flower Show, Royal Ascot, Cheltenham Gold Cup, Badminton Horse Trials, Grand National, Royal Windsor Horse Show, Epsom Derby, Glorious Goodwood, Cartier Queen's Cup, Trooping the Colour, Garter Service of the Order of the Garter, Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo, Boat Race, Henley Royal Regatta, Guards Polo Club, The Championships, Wimbledon, Cowes Week, Lord's Test cricket match. Since the Season also coincided with the marriage market, there would be a lot of engagements announced and weddings held.

At the end of the Season, usually around the 12th of August the elite would leave the city and return to the country for the hunting and shooting season.

What to Wear to the Season

Like most tradition heavy events, the Season was all about dressing appropriately. Wear the wrong thing and everyone you want to impress will see it. At polo matches, the gentlemen wear a blazers and strictly white trousers. Ladies are encouraged to wear flat shoes at these events. At the Royal Regatta, gentlemen wear lounge jackets and ties, and are permitted to wear their club colours as a show of support. It is usually traditional to wear boater hats. The ladies must wear dresses or skirts, with the hem below the knee. Women do not need to wear hats to these events. At events as such as Royal Ascot, everyone wears hats. The men wear either morning dress with waistcoat and a top hat, usually in grey or black. The only time a man removes his top hat is when he's dining, sitting in a box, on the balcony or within the Royal Enclosure. Ladies also must wear hats and are absolutely not permitted to show off shoulders. At the Presentation of the debutants, the traditional choice for the debutantes is a white court dress (though soft pinks and shades of white are permitted). The dress was short sleeved and had to have a train. The debutante wore long white gloves, a veil in her hair with three white ostrich feathers and jewels. Before the debutant has been introduced, she would hold her train over her arm and then let it fall when she has been presented.

How to Have a Successful Season

The Season was essentially there to keep all the nobles and elite entertained while they fulfilled political duties. Against the backdrop of fun and politics, there was a competition going on. Different hostesses would battle to throw the best parties, the most exclusive balls, the most interesting dinner parties. Families would spend lavish amounts of money fighting to impress and remain relevant. If one wants a successful social Season, one has to obtain as many invites as possible and establish one's self at the centre of the elite social sets. To be seen at all the top events was a sign of success and in this success, you can begin to advance socially by making contacts with influential peers or to advance through the marriage market. As a host, the most important guests such as Dukes, Marquesses and any royal family member marks you as one of the top tier hosts.

[coochiequeens]

Another case for SheWon

By Reduxx Team January 19, 2024

A trans-identified male has taken home the trophy at a women’s professional golfing tournament in Florida. Hailey Davidson, 30, emerged victorious at the NXXT Women’s Classic at Mission Inn Resort and Club on January 17.

Despite outlining eligibility as being restricted to “female players,” NXXT allowed Davidson to compete. His victory is particularly significant as this year NXXT had partnered with the Epson Tour to award 10 exemptions to their top five players. The exemptions were intended to provide female golfers the ability to compete in the Epson Tour regardless of their specific qualifications, something NXXT boasted would facilitate “unparalleled professional growth opportunities for women golfers.”

Davidson is currently ranked in the top spot to receive two of the ten available exemptions.

Davidson, who is originally from Scotland, last competed as a male in 2015 before declaring a transgender identity. Since then, he has become a vocal advocate for trans-identified males in women’s sports.

Writing for Athlete Ally in 2021, Davidson described himself as the “world’s first transgender woman to win a professional golf tournament, which I have now done multiple times.” He explains that he first began to believe he was a “woman” at age 14, but suppressed his “true self” until he was an adult, at which point he began experiencing severe anger issues.

“I had tried playing golf professionally as male prior to coming out, but I was such a headcase it was not only affecting me but the other players around me,” he writes. “I was at a crossroads at this point since I thought I had to choose between playing golf for a living and hiding who I was forever, or finally be happy as my authentic self and potentially never play golf again … While I did not play nor touch a club at all for over 2 years due to all that came with coming out of the closet, I was finally able to get back into playing when I was lucky to land a job at GolfNow. This got me back into playing for fun, and for once I was playing without anger or this mental time bomb waiting to explode.”

In 2022, Davidson made headlines while attempting to earn a Ladies Professional Golfing Association (LPGA) Tour card. At the time, Judy Murray, an elite tennis coach and mother of Wimbledon champion Andy Murray, blasted Davidson for attempting to join the LPGA Tour.

“No. Not fair at all,” Judy Murray posted to X (formerly Twitter) in heated words that quickly went viral. “Protect women’s sport. Listen to the facts, the scientists and the medics. This is wrong.”

While he was ultimately unsuccessful, Davidson attributed criticism of him playing in women’s sports to transphobia.

“I’ve seen that it’s not about protecting women’s sports or me having an advantage, it’s just that you don’t like trans people,” Davidson said during an interview on the Like It Is podcast. “It’s very sad that that’s what it comes down to. In the last couple of months, that’s what I’ve come to learn.”

On X, Davidson boasted of his victory, writing: “I was finally able to get my 4th professional win after two playoff holes… Also moved me into 1st place in the season rankings for two Epson Tour exemptions!”

The Epson Tour is the qualifying tour for the LPGA, meaning Davidson will not only be taking a major professional opportunity away from a woman, but he may also manage to successfully acquire the LPGA Tour Card he has been fighting to receive. The LPGA Tour removed the “female at birth” requirement in 2010.

Reduxx reached out to NXXT for clarification on their policies, and received a response deferring to the transgender guidance of the Ladies Professional Golfing Association, US Golfing Association, and Epson Tour — all of which have uniform policies allowing males to participate in women’s categories if they meet a certain amount of requirements.

Davidson prior to declaring a transgender status.

“The LPGA has a comprehensive Gender Policy that allows transgender athletes, including those who have transitioned from male to female, to participate in its events. This policy requires transgender athletes to provide a declaration of their gender identity, proof of gender reassignment surgery, and evidence of at least one year of hormonal therapy maintaining testosterone levels at a specified range. It also includes provisions for confidentiality and the recognition of decisions regarding gender verification made by other golf tours or sports authorities,” NXXT Tour Director Bennett Noe wrote.

“This alignment across the NXXT, LPGA, Epson Tour, and USGA ensures a consistent approach towards transgender athletes, emphasizing fair competition and integrity in the sport.”

But speaking to Reduxx on Davidson’s success at the tournament, Marshi Smith of the International Council on Women’s Sports denounced Noe’s response.

“The NXXT tour is claiming just because their policy is uniformly and consistently unjust alongside the Epson Tour, LPGA and USGA that somehow that ensures ‘fairness and integrity in the sport.'” Smith said.

“It is precisely the opposite. The question they must answer is ‘do women deserve access to fair competition?’ If yes, they must adopt simple and clean rules that create a female protected category without exception.”

[theoutcastrogue]

Bravado on the gallows

[abridged excerpt from V.A.C. Gatrell's The Hanging Tree: Execution and the English People 1770–1868, Chapter 1.1: “Dying Bravely”, emphasis mine]

the most iconic depiction of a procession to the Tyburn gallows, with the condemned on a cart going through excited crowds: William Hogarth's The Idle 'Prentice Executed at Tyburn, from the Industry and Idleness series (1747)

In theory, a Londoner growing up in the 1780s could by 1840 have attended some four hundred execution days outside Newgate alone. If he was unimaginably diligent he could have watched 1,200 people hang (and there were such obsessives). The sanction of the gallows and the rhetoric of the death sentence were central to all relations of authority in Georgian England. But the gallows were also embedded in the collective imagination, the subject of anxiety, defence, and denial, of jokes, ballads, images, and satire, and of primal gratifications too.

Even today we take comfort from an exuberant and cheering fantasy of what public hangings were like, and hence blur the memory of what the noose really did to people. A pleasant myth shields us from the reality of the process. It is not that the myth was without basis. It is what it concealed that is in question.

Central to the fantasy is the memory of the felon’s procession to Tyburn before 1783. To surface appearances it all seems rather jolly, and in certain dark senses it was so:

As clever Tom Clinch, while the rabble was bawling, Rode stately through Holborn, to die in his calling; He stopped at the George for a bottle of sack, And promised to pay for it when he came back. – J. Swift, ‘Clever Tom Clinch going to be hanged’ (1726/7)

From Newgate prison the condemned were conveyed in open carts along Holborn, St Giles, and Tyburn Road (later Oxford Street) to the triangular gallows at the foot of the Edgware Road. The major stations in this parodic progress to Calvary were at inns like the Bowl on the corner of St Giles’ High Street, or the George in Holborn, where the condemned would be offered wine; then Tyburn itself; and then again at Surgeon’s Hall at the Old Bailey, where murderers’ bodies were displayed and dissected.

Thief, escape artist, and folk hero Jack Sheppard taking his last drink at St Giles

Playing as best they could to the crowd’s admiration and engaging in parodic dialogue with it, some felons on their way to their doom constructed the illusion that they were the masters of the ceremonies, and not the City marshal, under-sheriff, priest, constables, and javelin-men who were meant to impart solemnity and security to the procession. Lord Ferrers’s composure on his journey to Tyburn in 1760 ‘shamed heroes’, Horace Walpole reported. Hanged for murdering his servant, he bore the procession ‘with as much tranquillity as if he was only going to his own burial, not to his own execution’. Plebeians also put on fine displays:

The vilest rogues, and most despicable villains, may own a thousand crimes, and often brag of the most abominable actions; but there is scarce one, who will confess that he has no courage... The further a man is removed from repentance, nay, the more void he seems to be of all religion, and the less concern he discovers for futurity, the more he is admired by our sprightly people. – B. Mandeville, An enquiry into the causes of the frequent executions at Tyburn (1725)

When Lewis Avershaw was hanged on Kennington Common in 1795 he appeared ‘entirely unconcerned, had a flower in his mouth, his bosom was thrown open, and he kept up an incessant conversation with the persons who rode beside the cart, laughing and nodding to acquaintances in the crowd’. He was afterwards hanged in chains on Wimbledon Common, and ‘for several months, thousands of the London populace passed their Sundays near the spot, as if consecrated by the remains of a hero’. ‘Sixteen-string’ John Rann in 1774 wore a peagreen coat, a nosegay in his buttonhole, and nankeen small-clothes tied at each knee with sixteen strings. At the gallows he sustained the demeanour of his last dinner-party in Newgate, where the company had included seven of his girls and ‘all were remarkably cheerful’. Thanks to the crowds and the convivial exchanges en route, a popular daredevil like this might take two hours to travel the couple of miles to his Tyburn death.

The Newgate Drop in action, 1809

Nor did this festive tradition die when the scaffold was removed to Newgate’s exterior in 1783. At Holloway’s and Haggerty’s hanging in 1807 both men ‘conducted themselves with the most decided indifference’. Holloway ‘with an affected cheerfulness of countenance... jumped upon the scaffold when he had ascended the ladder, his arms being pinioned with a rope behind... got his hat between his two hands, and as well as he was able, bowed to the crowd repeatedly... with a view to show that he died game, as it is expressed.’ He announced his innocence, refused to pray, and told Haggerty to ignore the clergy-man. Ascending the Newgate scaffold in 1829, Thomas Birmingham ‘was instantly greeted by a vast number of girls of dissolute character in the mob, who called out repeatedly—“Good bye, Tom! God bless you, my trump!” In the 1830s the ballad of the condemned Sam Hall conveyed the tone of these scaffold exchanges:

I saw Nellie in the crowd, And I hollered,—right out loud— ‘Say Nellie, ain’t you proud— Damn your eyes’ .

These mocking postures were mainly metropolitan but not exclusively so. Before his execution at York in 1739, Dick Turpin employed five mourners to follow his cart to the scaffold.

Self-parody and the display of courage was one way of dealing with terror. Defiance was another. An agricultural worker executed in Kent for arson during the Swing disturbances in 1830 declared his innocence to the last and ‘refused to pull the cap down over his eyes, saying he wished to see the people’ as he died. Others spurned God and his priests. When the highway robber Norton died game in 1827 he refused religious consolations. When a schoolmaster in Newgate sought to persuade a condemned man that there was a future life, the reply got to the truth of it: “Why you too gammon on as well as the parson! They take your life away, and then they think to make amends by telling you of another and a better world; for my part I am very well satisfied with this, if they will let me stay in it.’

Thomas Rowlandson, Malefactors on Their Way to Tyburn (c. 1776–1827)

Then there was the determined care about dress. Best clothing was worn by those who could afford it. Few men now dressed as Lord Ferrers had in 1760, in his wedding suit of white and silver, or paraded symbols like the white cockade the burglar Waistcott wore in his hat in 1759 ‘as an emblem of his whole innocence’. Male dress was becoming sober. Hatfield wore a black jacket with waistcoat, fustian pantaloons, and white cotton stockings; Fauntleroy ‘a new suit of black, silk stockings of the same colour, and light pumps’. But women continued to affect sartorial gaiety. Elizabeth Fry found that the ‘chief thought’ of nearly every condemned woman in Newgate ‘relates to her appearance on the scaffold, the dress in which she shall be hanged’. When Christian Bowman was hanged and burnt outside Newgate in 1789 she was ‘drest in a clean striped gown, a white ribbon, and a black ribbon round her cap’. In 1815 Eliza Fenning wore the dress she was to have worn for her wedding, a ‘white muslin gown, a handsome worked cap, and laced boots’.

Striking in all this is the victim’s effort to maintain dignity to the last and to die well, by drawing on a supportive vein of cynicism which ran deep in popular culture. Also striking is the authorities’ tolerance of these efforts. Those with money could spend their last days in Newgate in dissipation, as John Rann did, along with the highwayman Paul Lewis in 1763 when he entertained guests in the condemned cell by singing bawdy songs and vilifying the parson. On the scaffold likewise, custom had long entitled the condemned to address the crowd as they pleased, seditiously if they chose. Although every effort was made to force them to public professions of guilt and penitence, they were not checked if they betrayed that role. Jacobites had betrayed the role spectacularly, some making seditious speeches ‘plainly calculated’, as Dudley Ryder had observed, ‘for nothing else but to incense the people against the government... A rogue cannot be hanged but he must become a saint upon the gibbet.’

Dr Johnson lamented the abolition of the Tyburn procession: ‘the old method was most satisfactory to all parties; the publick was gratified by a procession; the criminal was supported by it. Why is all this to be swept away?’ This comment is usually taken to indicate bluff Augustan heartlessness. But its key word was ‘support’, and the generosity of Johnson’s observation is clarified in Adam Smith’s amplification of it:

A brave man is not rendered contemptible by being brought to the scaffold. The sympathy of the spectators supports him, and saves him from that shame, that consciousness that his misery is felt by himself only, which is of all sentiments the most insupportable... He has no suspicion that his situation is the object of contempt or derision to any body, and he can, with propriety, assume the air, not only of perfect serenity, but of triumph and exultation.

Johnson’s and Smith’s insights take us at last beyond the jolly surface of these rituals to the bleaker truth which social memory has censored—that most felons went to their deaths in quaking terror. In this light the abolition of the procession and the long shift towards the privatization of execution, commonly understood as a progressive and humane movement, was the reverse of that. To kill felons without ceremony and in private was to deny them the only worldly support they could hope for in their last hours. As evangelicals had their cool say on the best chances of bringing the felon to penitence, the felon was to be left alone with his death, that his spirit might break. [n.b. The author does have a point here (it’s truly horrible to die all alone, without an audience and without your loved ones, at the hands of cops, priests and bureaucrats), but this take ignores that the crowd’s support was not a given; for some they cheered, but for others they cursed, heckled, mocked, threw mud etc]

While public executions lasted, many knew that outward bravado did not speak for a felt reality, and that the powdered wig, Holland shirt, gloves, and nosegays which some flaunted on their last journey was the only resort they had to ‘meliorate the terrible thoughts of the meagre tyrant Death’. The man who did contrive to conduct himself bravely was often actually drunk out of his mind:

But valor the stronger grows, The stronger liquor we're drinking, And how can we feel our woes, When we've lost the trouble of thinking?

— V.A.C. Gatrell, The Hanging Tree: Execution and the English People 1770–1868 (Oxford University Press, 1994)

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Omid Scobies Unapologetic Media Extravaganza by u/Oakthrees

Omid Scobie’s Unapologetic Media Extravaganza Welcome to the latest chapter in the saga of Oh-My Scabies, the notorious scribe of royal whispers, who’s currently whipping through the media landscape like a tempest in a teapot. 😮🖋️👑🌪️🍵 Imagine our author, not so much a knight in shining armor, more a rogue in dented tin, caught in the whirlwind of his own making, spinning faster than a fidget spinner in the eager hands of an imaginary royal child.Visualize Scabies, our modern-day literary Houdini, wriggling in the straitjacket of scrutiny. He’s tossing words around with the flair of a pizza chef in overdrive, aiming for a concoction that looks vaguely like innocence. He’s in the middle of a game of “pin the tail on the royal scandal,” blindfolded, spun around, and handed a floor plan of Buckingham Palace 🏰as his only guide.Dancing through this waltz of denial, Scabies seems to have the grace of a ballet dancer 🕺who’s just realized he’s accidentally crashed the Royal Variety Performance. He’s out there, playing the misunderstood author, fervently insisting that the ‘name game’ in his book was more of an accidental spill than a strategic move. “I didn’t do it!” seems to be his mantra, echoed in interview after interview. “It wasn't me!" 😅 he repeats, channeling a bit of Shaggy 🎶, as he claims that the inclusion of those controversial names were inserted by Dutch translators gone rogue!Firm in his stance, he declares with Shakespearean drama, "I won't apologize!" He’s swearing on his family’s lives that the naming fiasco was as inadvertent as a Brit forgetting to put the teabag in their tea. Let the people in the back hear it loud and clear: Scabies has no plans to apologize, and yes, he’s really dragging his family into this.In this tempest of denial, Scabies thinks he has transformed into the Houdini of the literary scene, masterfully sidestepping the chains of controversy with a blend of bravado and disbelief. Each interview becomes another episode in this unfolding drama, filled with suspense, unexpected turns, and a protagonist as stubbornly insistent on his innocence as a cookie-thieving toddler.The media, perched eagerly in the front row, are devouring this spectacle like it’s the last box of popcorn at a blockbuster premiere. They’re hanging on every word, every denial, every steadfast refusal to apologize, with the enthusiasm of a royal corgi at a lavish tea party. Scabies is at the center of this feast, both the master chef and the main dish.Enter Megain Markle 😈 though not literally, since she’s reportedly lounging in sunny California, likely far removed from this Shakespearean tragedy. Yet, her spectral presence looms large. Denials are flying left, right and centre. Her camp are batting away at the rumors with the grace of a Wimbledon champion holding the might of a royal decree. “Megain? Leaking information? Preposterous!” they cry. The plot thickens, but our enigmatic duchless, is probably mulling over whether to watch “Suits” reruns or start her own podcast on…‘How to Accidentally Become the Center of a Global Media Frenzy’ post link: https://ift.tt/Yhn0GdR author: Oakthrees submitted: December 01, 2023 at 09:24PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[charlotte-of-wales]

gotta start compiling my favorite royal moments of 2023 but I legit have the memory of a goldfish

the proper royal: coronation rania's 2nd wedding and also iman's carl gustav's 50th year on the throne-ball? party? gala? you know it christian's bday party leonor and elisabeth's oath of allegiance uk state visit to france and german, spain to denmark, uk to kenya, ned to south africa, Frozen but royal version: maxima and mathilde for netherland's state visit BABY CHARLES' ENGAGEMENTS that engagement in scotland where the trio hotties equerries sat behind w&k will's engagement where he was surrounded by kids and he said something along the line "you guys are the loudest kids i've ever known other than my kids" alexandra of lux wedding and other lesser known royal wedding beatrice for london's vogue event or whatever that was letizia and sofia attending women's world cup everything that happened in the tennis (wimbledon?) match, kate slaying, charlotte and george giving the rich sibling vibe, and also FELIPE felipe and letizia recreated (?) their first meeting, haakon kissed mette for her 50th birthday anne speaked german when she was opening an event in germany edo's insta post for his wedding anniv aww peak comedy: the spare complaining in text, audio, and tv series NEW YORK 2023: The Car Crash That Never Happen And War of Letter With TMZ reunion of the queen (letizia) and the one who will never be a queen (chantal) richard wearing a formal shoe and A CROC (he prolly hurt his foot but it's just so cute) princess michael being a judge for a cake competition but didn't want to taste them 😭 (was it this year?) walmart wallis and her husband had their job section empty because they are jobless lmao; their thank you letter to the bike company; chuck's escape sperm at beyonce's concert andrew's almost eviction saga EMERGENCY CAMILLAS that brf dinner where they had tiaras but none for coronation george didn't give a fuck and continue to eat pizza while will talked to sunak iirc well it's just happened: fred and miss casanova danish's titles removal (did it happen this year? well not sure) juan carlos' alleged secret daughter constantine's dead andrew in the car with w&k

thank u <333

[the-empress-7]

BOWER CONFIRMS SHE CHEATED ON CORY!

Violet set them up during Wimbledon 2016. Meghan and Harry google each other. Meghan schemes. Literally - Bower says:

As the master of online research for The Tig, she instinctively searched Google for information. The fun-loving prince, she discovered, had adopted Diana's compassion as a prop to support his own emotional needs...Her philanthropic activism was an advantage...Nearly 35, [Meghan] mentioned to Gina that her biological clock was ticking. She wanted children. If they clicked she could fulfil her ambition for global celebrity. She knew exactly how, during their conversation, she could reassure him...

They go on their first date, Meghan gushes to Gina and:

...posted on Instagram a picture of two Love Heart sweets with the message 'Kiss Me' and 'Love Hearts in London'. Her friends understood the circumstances and the climax of the four-day relationship. (Y'all, they definitely hooked up.)

Meghan flies back to Toronto for Suits. Then:

Two weeks later Harry secretly flew to Toronto. He stayed for about one week in the house of a friend of Meghan's, probably Jessica Mulroney. With Cory still sharing her home, the situation for Meghan was tricky but manageable.

Since she had carefully researched Harry's life, Meghan knew exactly how to make him feel loved and appreciated. So long as she looked at him with intense affection and trust, she would not trigger his insecurity or paranoia. To reassure him that he was admired for himself she would tell him what he wanted to hear, especially about the importance of his ambitions and principles. Free of fear and suspicion, Harry succumbed to a person who offered much more than affection...

Meghan calls and tells Thomas she's in love with a prince and tells her friends in Toronto even though Harry had warned they needed to keep it silent. Then:

At the end of the week, after [Harry] returned to London, Meghan was convinced her spell was cast and the relationship with Harry would be sealed. She told Cory that their affair was over. Unaware of the circumstances, he was relieved. The final months had been unpleasant. Packing his belongings, he moved in mid-July into an apartment with Richard Lambert, a British-born friend renowned in Toronto as an owner of bars and nightclubs. Meghan stayed in the house, removing the evidence of Cory's presence.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Prince Edward, Duke of Kent Born: October 9, 1935, Belgrave Square, London, England Physique: Thin Build Height: 6′ 1″

Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, KG, GCMG, GCVO, CD, ADC is a member of the British royal family. Queen Elizabeth II and Edward were first cousins through their fathers, King George VI, and Prince George, Duke of Kent. Edward's mother Princess Marina of Greece and Denmark was also a first cousin of the Queen's husband Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, making him both a second cousin and first cousin once removed to King Charles III. He is currently 40th in the line of succession to the British throne.

The Duke of Kent has been a working member of the Royal Family since he retired from the British Army in 1976. He is a familiar face to many from his long-standing Presidency of The All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club, for which he presented the winners’ trophies at Wimbledon for more than five decades. Currently, His Royal Highness divides his time between engagements relating to his own Patronages, and work in support of The King and the wider Royal Family.

This Prince Edward thing for me is like Pokémon, I gotta catch 'em all. Although I don't want to fuck him now, (when he was younger... much younger, was fuckable) unless I'm drunk and high on molly, being gangbanged by every male member over 50 of the British Royal family of which he's apart of.