#Baby girl sussex

[harryandmeghansussex]

GIRL DAD 💝

#prince harry #duke of sussex #harry with a ginger baby girl is everything 😭 #lilibet diana #Lili Sussex

[snifflesthemouse]

Is Harry Suing the UK to Hide Truth of Visa and Security?

Let’s talk about a few things going on in the Royal News World, Shall We?

This mouse isn’t completely sure of coming back entirely, but I figured a post here and there would be fine. Let’s get started.

My people come bearing some insights: Just about everyone in the aristocracy is openly aware that Harry isn’t truly cut off. As a matter of fact, some believe that Harry is only in the US because Charles sent him here and he is in fact on an A1 visa. Not so much as a banishment, but as a way to play both sides of the media circus and keep them all relevant. The whole world tunes in every time something pops up.

What brings more clickbait? Ask yourself the hard questions, though, don’t take the easy route. I’ve seen some things going around, and I see people truly never ask the hard questions.

I pray for the day when everyone wakes up and realizes that being elderly doesn’t make you harmless or innocent. This author was told the same things about Harry not being told about the diagnosis for the cancer until we all heard, BUT BEFORE. Interesting that ever got leaked out in the press, isn’t it? Why even tell us when he got told? Harry probably leaked it and did it to make Charles look favorable. Do you think Charles would let it get leaked? To what end? To look like the loving, yet firm father everyone demands him to be, the man that he cannot. The man he is not.

And now there are articles coming out about the contingency plans for Charles being sick. Harry is not in them, at all. Why would he need to be? Doesn’t that say a lot? The fact people have to be told Harry isn't included is silly. But you know what they say about assumptions.

Now, I was told by a friend that’s a doctor the whole story of the cancer being found during the prostate stuff made no sense. They would’ve seen other indicators beforehand. They ARE the greatest medical professionals on the planet, aren’t they? You mean a PET scan or blood test or anything like that, at all, wouldn’t hint at the other problems? This was a choreographed release of information.

It's being suggested that the press will be informed to release a cascade of tidbits over the coming weeks. Lady C said early spring, before summer. She also said it was Princess Anne who made the “racist baby” comments, and that was also a ruse. I’m pretty sure Lady C picked Team Charles back in the 80s, and she’s been working to gain grace and favor since. I think she wants to seem like she knows things to sell books or views. Go, girl, get that paper.

Speaking of paper, it was suggested one of the main reasons Charles was so upset with Harry when he “rushed right over” was because he asked for more money. Anyone could assume that but think about what he did immediately afterwards. He went over there only to have something to give an interview for. He got paid to “not squeal” on an interview. The Sussexes don’t lift a finger for free… they only lift them for freebies. Or money.

If Harry is here on an A1 Visa as a favor between Charles and the US, that means we are paying for that security in America. No wonder Harry is suing the UK, he needs to make it look like he needs something when he already has it. How would they possibly have the money to pay for their own? I posted the mortgage documents, remember. Do the math. They have 10 years to pay that house off in full before they get a 7.48% interest rate. They have upkeep, services, servants, nannies, clothes, utilities, maintenance that must be maintained or the bank could come in and do it themselves… Those things aren’t cheap. You have to have a faucet of money coming in to handle it all. They don’t even have a drip.

Oh, and I was told to really look at Harry’s page on the Royal website. And that the minute Wills gets that crown, his brother will be done for. Which is why Charles could be trying to be a father instead of a king in that situation. Then again, if Wills had hard feelings for both Charles and Harry, and Charles had a jealousy over Wills and the Queen… that’s a lot of ifs

One this is for sure. Harry will NEVER return to the BRF in a working capacity. Everything is a dance of smoke and mirrors.

It makes total sense to have Harry here on an A1 visa, have him in constant litigation with the UK so we peons think he needs security, but in reality he is here on a visa supplying him the protection he thinks he deserves. Of course, an FOIA would need to be filed, probably… I wonder if I could do that and see how he is really here. I don’t believe he is here on an O1 or spousal visa.

What is the real reason for all of this, people? It's just Flying Pasta, like before.

#megxit #prince harry #uk royal family #government

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

What’s your pov on her pregnancies? Of the body or surrogate?

I'm opening Pandora's Box tonight in honor of the eclipse.

I'm 80/20.

20% of the body because:

There are tiny skinny-Minnie people in my family who didn't gain any weight during their pregnancies except in their faces and in the baby bumps (as photographs of Meghan depict), so I know it's possible.

That one appearance of Meghan where she accompanied Harry but hid backstage until he cajoled her out. She was not looking her best that day (very puffy, bloated face) and seemed a bit angry, to me, at being called out/forced onto the stage to stay hello.

Padding the bump - which some celebs do, especially when their bump isn't the typical "cute" baby belly - can explain the difference in sizing day-to-day.

How early it was announced.

How long it took Meghan to lose the baby weight - she was still carrying a lot of extra weight at Trooping 2019 (and the weight gain was amplified for me by poor styling choices with her hair, hat, and outfit).

80% surrogacy because:

There was no PR about Meghan's pregnancy compared to Kate's, and Meghan has always done the "anything Kate can do I can do better" PR competition every chance she could. If Meghan had terrible morning sickness, it'd have been all over the tabloids about how much worse than Kate Meghan's morning sickness is. If Meghan didn't have any sickness, it'd have been all over the tabloids about how much better and hard-working Meghan is during her pregnancy.

The excessive belly-groping and coat-flicking. Yes, she was doing that on purpose to get all the cameras and attention, but IMO she was doing it so excessively that it crossed into "the lady doth protest too much" territory for me.

The bending over and squatting down with knees and feet together. I've never been pregnant but I am a bigger girl who carries her weight in her midsection and who also cannot bend or squat down with knees, ankles, and feet together.

The alleged deal she had with Trevor that if she had a baby, he would pay for a personal trainer and a nutritionist and a nanny so she could whip her body back into shape. That's not someone who wants to be pregnant (but of course, people *can* change their minds. But still.)

The "rules of engagement" that Meghan and Harry sent to their Windsor neighbors/community about how the neighbors couldn't speak to the Sussexes or take their photographs.

The inconsistencies between what Harry reported in Spare and what the Portland Hospital's actual procedures are and the people who were involved.

Meghan choosing to deliver at Portland instead of Lindo and refusing to serve the baby on a silver platter after birth. The Lindo photocall is one of Diana's five* iconic photos. Are you telling me that Meghan happily copies Diana's outfits, copies Diana's pregnancy woes (emotional/mental distress to the point of self-harm), copies Diana's complaints about the BRF and the grey suits, copies Diana's second pregnancy announcement, and copies Diana's Panorama makeup...but she draws the line at copying Diana's Lindo photoshoots? And has a controlled photoshoot with one television camera and one photographer instead?

Meghan's birth "stories" matching more of the American Hollywood stereotypes than actual British practice.

Just one papwalk during all of her second pregnancy.

Hiding her belly with a giant-ass purse during the NYC baby shower after having spent the evening partying with friends, including Markus Anderson.

Harry's first appearance after Archie's birth being in the horse stables at Windsor instead of around the hospital (as William and Charles had been) and also Harry's "babies change so much in two weeks" comment.

Tacky social media influencer games with Archie's first photos under the guise of "privacy" - showing us the back of his head first, or his hand or his foot. Just show us the damn baby. No one cares about him that much.

Editing Archie's birth certificate.

Sara Latham bungling the media strategy for Archie's birth announcement. (Let's be real here. It's not Kensington Palace that fucked it up. It was the Sussexes' own people giving KP the wrong information in the first place.)

In the same vein of Meghan's "anything Kate can do I can do better" PR competition, there have been no stories about how Meghan felt of the early baby days. Kate and her family/friends have gone on record about how difficult the first few weeks with George were. Where is Meghan's equivalent? If Archie was a terrible newborn, then where are the stories about how much worse than Kate Meghan had it? Or if Archie was a happy, easy newborn, then where are the stories about how easy Meghan found motherhood? Instead the only story we got was "oops, it's feed time. Gotta go. Peace."

How early the pregnancy was announced.

How quickly (and suspiciously) the clinic/practice that Meghan used for her second pregnancy closed soon after Lili was born.

On that note, I don't subscribe to the theory that a lot of you may have (and which has ended up in my inbox quite a few times) that Archie doesn't know who Meghan is because he didn't smell her milk in South Africa and had a reaction. First off, PLEASE stop sending me that. I REALLY don't want to read about Meghan's breasts anymore.

Second, I don't think the Sussexes having nannies to help care for Archie is the kiss of death that many of you think it is. Some people just aren't baby people or little kid people. Some people like the older years better, when the kid can talk and is a little more independent and mobile. I've always suspected that that's Meghan and Harry, because all of their PR about wanting kids or liking kids has alwas featured older school-aged kids. They're not baby/toddler/early years people. And that's OK. That's not something to condemn them for.

And I don't think it's fully fair to call them out on their hypocrisy of what they said they wouldn't do as parents before they had children. Some of the hypocrisy is deserved (like the comment about not dressing their kids as Victorian ghost children but then turning around and giving Lili a Victorian ghost child dress for her 1st birthday photo), but they do deserve more grace than they're sometimes given; people just don't know how hard parenting or having children is until the baby is here. Yes, ding them for saying they'd never have a nanny but then turning around and hiring two or three, but also let's acknowledge that they know they can't (or don't, or won't, however you want to say it) care for their own kids themselves and hired responsible caretakers.

Finally third, I don't think Meghan ever breastfed those kids. Maybe she tried in the beginning with Archie, but if she did, she gave up pretty quickly. Those kids are formula babies. That's OK! So I don't buy the theory she was taking hormones and her weight gain was hormone-induced. Again, it's because of the missing "anything Kate can do I can do better" competition here.

*Diana's top 5 iconic photos are (in no particular order) the wedding dress portrait, the Lindo photos, the Taj Mahal photo, the Panorama photo, and the Revenge Dress photo.

#ask #sussexes #brf #theories

[adore-laur]

BULLSEYE: PART ONE

— a lonely small-town boy meets a demure city girl (this series is unfinished)

| The Boy | 

Morning fog drifts throughout Lurgashall, West Sussex. Doves faintly coo in the dense forest. The sound of the rushing river nearby gives life to the rural landscape. The pathway is hugged by trees on both sides, weeping willows and broadleaf evergreens bending over the gravel as if to greet passersby. The sky is a silky shade of periwinkle, and the sun gently grapples to peek out from behind a sheet of looming stratus clouds. Squirrels and hares race through the thicket to rustle and stir up insects. The crickets will soon chirp and wake the rest of the sleeping nature around them. 

Distant footsteps crunch rock fragments with each stride, the approaching noise startling the birds as they scatter away to their homes nestled in the slim branches above. A boy whom the townsfolk know as Harry is the product of the sound. His intriguing and mysterious presence always makes itself known, even to placid wildlife. Unless he's with his father, of course. In those moments, he's a silent shadow in the background of the older man's domineering limelight. 

As the steps grow louder, creatures turn their heads to observe the boy's blue, melancholy aura that walks the timeworn path every dawn. He holds a metal bucket filled to the brim with fresh water from the stream. It's heavy but no challenge for his strong arms. He ventures down the winding trail, disrupting the pebbles with each clunky trudge of his steel-toed boots. Atop his head is a cowboy-esque hat made of straw, and his freshly showered hair, damp and curly, makes an appearance underneath as it dries with assistance from the crisp breeze. His long legs are clad in light-wash jeans, and his upper half is covered with a cream-colored button-up. He leaves it open over a trusty white tank top, the fabric sticking to his perspiring chest. Humidity is starting to make its presence known, and he wishes autumn would arrive faster. He despises summer for his own repressive reasons. 

Harry is not a cowboy by any means. He's what people would instead consider a rancher. His father had once told him that there was a significant difference. A rancher doesn't wrangle cattle or compete in barrel racing. They don't herd sheep or wear chaps. Nor do they own a lasso or race horses for profit. No, Harry takes care of the horses. He nurtures them by feeding, grooming, and riding them across the village fields. He speaks to them when he locks the stable up at night, telling them about the newest baby born in tiny Lurgashall or the fawn he saw grazing in the pasture. 

He works at his father's ranch. It provides services such as horseback riding and equestrian lessons. His father handles the latter, having grown up in the village his entire life and acquiring decades of experience. On the other hand, Harry helps with the guided horse tours by visiting the picturesque countryside a few times daily with a group of locals or tourists. They travel the paths overrun with blossoming flowers and satiny grass matted down by hoof prints. Farthest out on the tour, they stop at beautifully eroded rock formations on the hill and soak in the expanse of the sky.

It never gets old, yet the boy still feels stuck. He's caught up in a constant cycle of living the same day repeatedly, always ending with desolation crawling into his lonely heart that so desperately wants to be loved. It doesn't help that he doesn't have many friends, not that it's such a horrible thing. However, living in a place with a whopping population of six hundred people leaves him relatively isolated. He doesn't mind, though. He's grown used to going home to his cabin in the woods and having the entire place to do as he pleases. He can play his records as loud as he wants. He can get drunk off cheap whiskey and dance around his living room, thinking about all the things he should have said and done in his past. He can fall asleep under his quilted blanket and dream of flying through the sky, his fingers sweeping through the soft grass of foreign fields he wishes to visit one day. 

When Harry does manage to hang around other people, it's usually at the singular pub in Lurgashall. It's small, with a rustic, sixteenth-century interior and matching decor that comforts him. He walks there from his cabin or the stables, either chosen way taking less than ten minutes, and admires the scenic view of the whole journey. 

Whenever he steps through the doorway, he comes alive. Talking to strangers and locals, listening to their stories with endless questions bubbling up inside him. He sometimes rides his horse there and ties it to the porch fence, then excuses himself from the pub for a moment to feed them a carrot that he always keeps in his satchel. Hogging the jukebox by playing Dolly Parton back-to-back until a drunk man yells at him to pick something else. Harry will often go behind the bar and help serve drinks to the patrons, charming them with his infectious smile, never forgetting to undo a couple of extra buttons on his shirt to attract anyone interested. Someone usually is, but he never acts on their flirtatious exertions. Harry prefers going back to his cabin alone with rosy cheeks and a dizzy head. His father calls him a dry-as-dust introvert with how much time he spends in solitude. So be it, the boy thinks. He's doing perfectly fine on his own. 

Harry's favorite thing to do at the pub is partake in a game of darts. He claims he could be a professional one day and travel the world, knocking down any competition far and wide with ease. He'll play by himself for hours straight with complete focus and a light buzz coursing through his blood from the beer or whiskey he drinks. The local ladies will watch while whistling and cheering him on. It feeds his narcissism nicely. Then he'll stumble home and crash on his bed, getting no more than four hours of sleep before dragging his feet to work the following morning with a headache and a feeling of existential dread about the stand-still life that his father gave him. Needless to say, the boy has some unresolved daddy issues. 

That's not to say Harry isn't fond of where he lives and works. He loves horses and showing people the beauty of his hometown. He doesn't mind waking up at dawn to sit with the horses after completing his duties. He'll bring his sketchbook and pencils and draw potential ideas for tattoos. 

Oh, don't even get him started on tattoos. His father hates them, so Harry gets dozens out of pure spite. His arms are covered with ink inspired by his own drawings. He will often tattoo himself with his gun and supplies in a drawer at his cabin since the nearest tattoo parlor is an entire town away. He honestly can't get enough. The feeling of the needle piercing his flesh brings him a painfully addictive pleasure he hasn't found anywhere else. 

It's six in the morning when Harry walks into the main stable. He hears the familiar sound of hooves clopping against the wooden planks. This is where he can stop thinking about everything wrong in his life. This is where he goes to get away from his father's disapproving demeanor. This is where he can reminisce about his mother, his angel in the sky guiding him toward better days. 

—— 

| The Girl | 

It takes just under an hour to drive from Portsmouth to Lurgashall. There's green everywhere, a pleasant change from the grey city. Boundless fields and forests seclude the cozy, spaced-out cottages and farmhouses along the road. It's technically not even a road; it's simply a gravel path looping throughout the village. 

Cramped in a car with three other people, it's becoming hard to breathe with the muggy air wafting in because someone insisted on rolling the windows down. It's almost comical to think about how city girls could survive staying here for a week after being conditioned to traffic and bumping into people on concrete streets. 

The girl, who suburbanites know as Shyla, has friends who insisted they travel to the countryside to temporarily flee their swarmed hometown of Portsmouth. They quite literally threw a dart on a map of England to determine the destination. Lo and behold, it hit the microscopic region of Lurgashall. 

Eight square miles. Six hundred residents. She's absolutely dreading it. 

Shyla was left out of the trip planning. She also wasn't given the option to ride shotgun in the car. Now, she's on the way to go horseback riding at a ranch when her friends know she's never ridden one before and has absolutely no desire to. The guided horseback tour is private for the four girls. Shyla is thankful for that since she doesn't want strangers laughing at her inability to steer a horse properly. Needless to say, the girl doesn't have a great support system. 

See, Shyla is lonely even when she's around her friends. They ignore her and leave her out of conversations. They only hang out with her when they need something out of it — a designated driver, money, or someone to tease. Shyla is fed up, to be honest, but she's too terrified of confrontation. She doesn't want to lose the only people she has left. 

Once the ranch comes into view, Shyla feels her heart sink with an anchor of anxiousness. From the backseat window, she admires the rolling hills that expand as far as the eye can see. Behind the ranch is a fenced pasture connected to the stables. Horses are tied up, chewing on hay and stomping their hooves, causing dust to swirl in the stale air. 

Gravel crunches under the car's wheels as they slow down. No parking spots are marked, so they park in front of the wraparound porch. The ranch building is cute, with its horseshoe hanging above the front door and the crooked wooden sign that reads Styles Stables. 

Shyla thinks maybe this won't be so bad after all. The exterior atmosphere of the place seems inviting enough. She wonders how the business stays afloat in such a small town, especially since there are currently no other cars. The owner will be in for a surprise when a group of girls from the city asks to ride their horses. Her friends can be obnoxious sometimes, so she prays they won't embarrass her and make anyone's job more difficult. 

They all clamber out of the car and stumble toward the front door on legs that haven't been used for a while. Shyla strays behind, trying to get fresh air in her lungs. Plummeting apprehension has suddenly hit her. 

The door is already open, revealing a naturally lit room. Shyla is the last one to step inside, and she's taken aback by the overpowering smell of sawdust and leather. It's a spacious area with creaky wooden floors decorated with only a rustic bench and a shabby front desk. There are two men behind it. One has grey hair that shines from the sunlight pouring through the window. The other has curly brown hair. Their backs are turned, and they seem to be poring over a stack of papers. 

One of Shyla's friends rings the silver service bell to get their attention. The silver-haired man slowly turns around with a stoic expression and studies each person. He seems intimidating right off the bat. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers at the other person behind the counter. The boy flinches slightly and silently hurries out the back door. Without a word, the older man slides four waivers toward them. They paid beforehand, and Shyla assumes they must not have anyone else riding today since he didn't ask for their names. 

Her three friends sit on the bench to fill them out, leaving Shyla to remain standing and write on the splintered surface of the desk. After they finish, they give the papers to the man. Shyla gets negative vibes from him. It's no wonder no one comes here; the owner is the most off-putting person she's ever met. 

Then he speaks. A low, gruff voice thunders when he says, "Harry, my son, will be your guide today. Go out the back door, and he'll situate everyone with a horse based on experience. Let me know if he's cranky. I'll make sure to give him a stern talking-to." 

They all nod and head to the stables. They're met with posts lining a fence that several horses, all varying colors and sizes, are tied to with rope. Shyla's eyes start watering from the dryness outside—or maybe from fear. 

The boy, who Shyla now knows as Harry, carries saddles out and begins setting them on a few select horses. She has an unobstructed view of him now, so she takes in his outfit, consisting of a beige button-up with a brown leather jacket over it and jeans with a hole just below each of his knees. His hair is almost parted down the middle, with some loose curls hanging over his forehead, and there's faint stubble growing above his lips and along his jaw. 

Once the horses have saddles on, Shyla watches Harry lead a tall, sleek black horse in front of the girls. Shyla guesses it's the one he'll be riding since it doesn't have a saddle on, and it looks daunting. He ties it to the entrance gate leading to the trail, then brings another horse out. He's silent the entire time, and Shyla thinks he might actually be cranky. She's not a snitch, though. 

Harry stops in front of the girls after the four horses are tied to the fence. He clears his throat, then asks, "Has anyone here never ridden a horse before?" 

Shyla glances over to her friends and quickly realizes she's the only one who hasn't. With a hesitant raise of her arm, she indicates her inexperience. The boy locks eyes with her and nods before untying a copper-colored horse. He walks it over to Shyla while adjusting its saddle. 

"This is Quake," he explains, patting the horse's neck. "We use him for beginners. Are you comfortable mounting him by yourself?" 

"Um, I've never gotten on a horse before, so I might need some help." 

"Sure. Start by putting your left foot in the stirrup." Shyla steps into the stirrup and waits for further instruction. "Then push down on it to lift your leg up and over his body." 

He's watching her every movement. Shyla swallows her parched throat. She does what he says and hoists her leg to stretch uncomfortably over Quake's wide body, then sets her feet in both stirrups and holds onto the saddle's horn. She peeks over at her friends to see if they'll be proud of her, but they're all too distracted taking pictures on their phones. She tries not to let it bother her. 

"Do your feet feel loose at all?" Harry asks, placing the reins in her grasp. 

"They feel a bit loose, yeah. I also feel like they're too low. Sorry, I'm short." She doesn't know why she's apologizing. She just feels bad for being a beginner and wasting everyone's time. Her friends are obviously bored while waiting for her. 

"All right, let me fix those for you." He grabs the left stirrup and pulls the strap to tighten and lift it, his fingers grazing Shyla's ankle. She almost shivers at the touch. He goes over to fix the other one and gives her a questioning thumbs-up. She hastily nods to confirm they're better. 

"What's your name?" he mumbles as he adjusts Quake's bridle. 

She almost forgets it but manages a quiet murmur of "Shyla." 

"Shyla. Pretty name." Harry puts his hands on his hips. "So, if you want to steer right or left, just turn the reins in that direction. The hand you write with holds the reins, but you can use two if you're more comfortable that way. If you want to slow down or stop, gently pull the reins back. Quake is a good horse, so there shouldn't be any problems. Going downhill, you want to lean back. Going uphill is when you'll lean forward. If Quake stops moving, just lightly kick his side. Let's see... always sit up straight, but keep your body relaxed. No need to worry about trotting or accidental running since he's our most easy-going horse. He doesn't get spooked much." He exhales, eyes squinting from the sun. "That's it, I think. Any questions?" 

Shyla shifts in the saddle, overwhelmed by all the rules. "No, I should be fine. Thank you." 

"No problem." He hikes his thumb over his shoulder. "Quake will just stand still for right now, so I'll get everyone else set up." 

Once everyone is on their designated horses, Harry unties his horse and gracefully mounts it. He then takes his leather jacket off and hangs it over the fence post, skillfully turning his horse around to lead the front of the line. 

"Okay," he says, looking at everyone. "Since Shyla hasn't done this before, I'll have her ride behind me. Sound good?" 

The girls all nod their heads. Harry opens the rusty gate and gets his horse to start walking by clicking his tongue, causing the other horses to follow suit. Shyla sees him twist back to check on her, and she smiles softly to show she's good. He just bows his head and stares straight ahead again. 

Shyla doesn't remember what she was ever anxious about. 

—— 

| The Boy | 

Harry has concluded that the girl behind him is catastrophically pretty. He finds himself looking back at her every so often to make sure she's all right, and each time he does, she grants him an innocent smile paired with eyes the color of chestnuts. 

Harry has also concluded that her friends are absolute shit. They won't stop gabbing about city gossip with their whiny voices. He thanks his lucky stars that they're not behind him; otherwise, he would be seconds away from getting his horse to kick them off. The girl not being annoying, who Harry now knows as Shyla, is reserved and respectful. Whenever he subtly steals a glance at her, she's admiring the nature around her and petting Quake's neck with a delicate hand. 

When they finally reach the rock formations, everyone gets off their horse to stretch their legs and appreciate the view. This is Harry's favorite part. He likes to watch his groups be impressed with how beautiful little Lurgashall can be. 

He observes Shyla with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Her wide eyes scan over the rocks and endless greenery around her. For some reason, it makes his mouth twitch with a ghost of a smile. 

Five minutes pass before they begin their trip back to the stables. Shyla, who has been otherwise quiet, suddenly speaks up, much to Harry's surprise. Her friends are too busy talking about where to get dinner to join in. 

"How long have you been doing this?" she asks. 

Harry turns his head toward her momentarily before turning back and taking a deep, calming breath. He's awful at small talk unless he has alcohol in his system. He keeps his backstory vague and says, "Around a decade. I started as a guide when I was sixteen. My father built the ranch long before I was born, so I kind of had no choice but to follow in his footsteps." 

It's true he didn't have a choice, but there's a more personal side to it that he can't talk about without either crying or getting angry. It's about his mother and any fleeting thought of her begs for tears to fall. If he starts crying on a horse in front of a pretty girl, he's officially hit rock bottom. 

"Is it just you and him working at the ranch?" Shyla questions further.

His shoulders tense. "Only us," he curtly replies. Shyla must notice his discomfort because she's silent the rest of the way back. 

Eventually, they arrive at the stables. Harry smoothly dismounts his horse and walks over to help Shyla off Quake first. He reaches his hand out, and she firmly grips it while swinging her leg over and hopping onto the ground. His thumb lightly strokes the back of her hand before he lets go. If she feels it, she doesn't let it show. 

As Shyla dusts off her pants, Harry glimpses at her friends, who are getting off their horses and taking more pictures of themselves. Irritation simmers inside of him. They could at least pretend to care about her. 

He shakes the thought from his head and coughs gingerly into his fist before mumbling, "Have a nice day, Shyla," and bidding farewell with a two-finger salute. 

Again, he's awful at making conversation. He gets nervous, especially when mesmerizing brown eyes give him a tenderhearted look he hasn't seen since his mother left him. 

—— 

| The Girl | 

Shyla and her friends have decided to go out for cocktails tonight. Much to everyone's disappointment, there's only one pub in Lurgashall to choose from, but it'll have to do. They drove aimlessly after horseback riding since the checkout time for the inn they are staying at isn't until tomorrow morning. The girls are terrible at planning, so they have no other option but to sleep in the car tonight. It's going to be hell. 

It's ten o'clock when they walk through the threshold. Shyla's view is instantly bombarded with people chatting, dancing, and drinking in every corner of the confined space. Her friends are already heading toward the bar to order drinks. Shyla lingers behind and soaks in the lively environment. Friendly smiles fleetingly greet her. Bony limbs accidentally elbow her. Boisterous laughs invitingly lure her in. 

As her curious eyes scan the room, she quickly spots a familiar face. Harry, the boy from the ranch, is in the far corner, standing next to a retro jukebox. He's wearing his brown leather jacket from earlier with no shirt underneath, and several tattoos can be seen in the dim lighting of the pub. He nurses what looks like a glass of whiskey or bourbon in his hand as he slowly sways to the song playing. He's mouthing the lyrics with his head tilted back. Shyla recognizes the song as "You're the Only One" by Dolly Parton. She flits her gaze away so he doesn't catch her gawking. 

The mix of conversations around her on top of Dolly's smooth-as-butter voice creates an ambiance that eases her anxiety. Clinking glasses and the sudden outburst of hysterics make her want to participate in the drunken bubbles. Walking over to the bar, Shyla finds an open stool to sit on when Harry suddenly slides behind the counter with a beaming smile and dilated pupils. She stares at him for a while, trying to understand how quickly he noticed her. Now, his tattooed torso is right in front of her, and she thinks he's one of the most attractive people she's ever seen. 

"Hi!" Harry cheerfully greets, blowing a curly strand of hair away from his face. Shyla can immediately sense that he's a bit tipsy. 

"Hey," she says awkwardly. "Um, do you work here?" 

"I don't work here," he slurs with a smug raise of eyebrows. "But I can make you anything your heart desires." 

Oh, so tipsy Harry is an entirely different person. Got it! 

"Could I please get a lime margarita?" she asks, his intense eye contact making her flush. 

He winks as he grabs a glass from under the counter. "Coming right up, Miss Shyla." 

She's shocked he remembers her name as she watches him run a lime wedge along the rim of the glass and skillfully coat it in salt. After that, he pours the liquid ingredients into a mixer filled with ice and then shakes it like a professional bartender. His stomach muscles flex as he does so, and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek in concentration. Shyla wonders how he's so good at making drinks if he doesn't work here. 

Once he pours the concoction into her glass, he kisses the lime wedge and garnishes the rim. Lifting it in a cheers gesture, he slides it toward her. Who is this man? He can't be the same one she met earlier today. 

"Thanks," Shyla mumbles meekly. She takes a sip and puckers her lips at the sour taste. 

Harry's palms cradle his cheeks, his elbows resting on the counter. He has a cute smile on his face as he watches her expression. He looks like a kid in a candy store, his dimples deep enough to build a dreamland in them. 

"I'm tipsy," he admits, his mouth barely moving. "Apologies if it's not my best work." He stands up straight with a slight sway. "Hey, do you know how to play darts? I can teach you. Not to brag, but I'm pretty decent." 

Shyla peeks at the dart board snug in the corner of the pub. She's never played before, and her friends probably don't care that she's not with them, so she nods, grabs her drink, and heads over. Harry shuffles around the counter to walk beside her. He smells like pine trees with a hint of something floral. 

They reach the board, and Harry leans against it with his ankles crossed. He takes a dart and points it at her. "So," he says, "the simplest version we can play is 301. Easy rules. We each start with 301 points, yeah? The goal is to reach zero; to do that, we have to try to land the dart on high numbers to get there before each other. We subtract the scores each round, and whoever gets there first wins. However, if you go past zero, you bust out and have to reset your score to what it was when you started your last turn." 

Shyla's sure she'll be terrible at it, but at least it'll be something fun to do while her friends get hammered without her. She takes a gulp from her margarita to get some liquid courage churning, then sets her glass on a nearby stool and grabs a dart, the only pink one in a bundle of red and blue ones. She stands a decent distance away from the board. 

"Is there a certain way to throw it?" she wonders aloud, spinning the dart between her fingers. 

Harry tuts. "I'm not supposed to help you since we're competing, but yes, there is. Here, let me show you." He stands behind her, his bare chest resting against her back. His cologne and presence dangerously invade all of her senses. 

"See the white line in front of you?" he says, his warm breath heating her ear. "It's called the oche. You can't step over it, or you'll be disqualified. Your feet need to be hip-width apart behind it, okay?" Shyla spreads her feet to the appropriate length. "Keep your feet at that width and then turn sideways to face the board," he adds. She does as Harry says. He continues, "Place every finger except your pinky on the barrel of the dart. Toward the front of it." Shyla attempts to mimic his direction. "Ah, ah, ah. Not too firmly. Try not to curl your fingers. Keep them long and open." 

She readjusts her fingers on the dart, then turns her head to meet Harry's eyes. He licks his lips and nods. "Good girl. Now raise the dart to eye level with your elbow at a ninety-degree angle." Shyla feels him lightly grip her wrist to raise it as he bends her elbow. "Just like that." 

Fuck. Her skin is on fire, surely. 

"Now tilt the end upwards a bit," he murmurs, his thumb stroking her elbow, "but don't let the tip drop too far down. Then aim it right at the bullseye. Is this your first time throwing a dart?" 

Shyla swallows. "Yes. Sorry if I end up putting a hole in the wall." 

Harry hums a low chuckle. "Trust me, you won't. So, what you'll do now is use your dominant eye to aim. You held the reins at the ranch with your right hand, so I'm assuming you're right-handed?" 

He remembered. Is that the bare minimum? Shyla can't think straight when she can feel every single one of his breaths against her neck. She manages to squeak out an affirmation. 

"Okay. Keep your right eye open and close the other one. Then pull your hand back and keep your shoulders motionless as you throw it." Harry's hands place themselves on her shoulders. She tenses but relaxes instantly when he gives them an assuring squeeze. "Place weight on your foot closest to the board when you throw, but don't lean or sway. Stay as still as possible." 

"All right," Shyla whispers. "Then I just throw it forward, right?" 

"Snap your wrist forward, not downward, as you release it. And always remember to follow through with the motion." 

He removes his hands from her shoulders and tucks in the tag from the neckline of her shirt. Has that been out the entire day? How embarrassing. 

Shyla clears her throat and gets ready to aim. She closes her left eye and keeps her shoulders still like Harry said. She then lightly pushes her foot closest to the board and snaps her wrist to release the dart. 

Not quite a bullseye, but pretty damn close. In Shyla's peripheral, she sees Harry whistle by sticking his pointer and middle finger in his mouth. He removes them and claps slowly but not mockingly; he looks thoroughly impressed. Shyla curtsies and takes a sip of her drink. 

It's Harry's turn, so he takes a red dart and stances up behind the line. Before he gets any further, Shyla can't help but ask, "How do you play when you're tipsy? Won't your hand-eye coordination get messed up?" 

Closing one eye, he pokes his tongue out in concentration and gracefully releases the dart. It hits the bullseye. He glances at her and smiles lopsidedly. "Practice makes perfect, darling." 

She's stunned by his perfect aim as he removes the two darts and then writes down both scores on the nearby chalkboard. When he faces her, he spreads his arms out and arrogantly shrugs. 

"You're good," Shyla compliments, breathing out a laugh and clapping. 

"All in a day's work," he replies, gesturing his hands like he's dusting them off. 

Shyla is about to grab another dart when Harry suddenly gasps. "You're Still the One" by Shania Twain starts playing from the jukebox. She really enjoys the song, too. She's not tipsy enough to dance around like everyone else, but when Harry holds his hand out for her to take, she can't refuse. 

"What about our dart game?" she asks, taking his warm and calloused hand. He twirls her and brings her into his chest, beginning to sway them to the romantic song. One hand in hers, the other gravitating to her waist. 

"Nothing else matters when Shania comes on. You'll have to stop by again so we can finish." 

"Already trying to get me to come back, huh? I'm only here for a week, so you better make it worth it." 

She hopes that came across as flirty. The margarita in her bloodstream is doing wonders for her boldness. 

Harry's eyebrows dip sadly. "You're only here for a week?" 

Shyla's unoccupied fingers graze along his abdomen. His skin is soft but somehow firm. "I'm from Portsmouth, which is about an hour southwest. I'm here on a girl's trip." 

"Oh, a trip with your shitty friends?" he says monotonously as he looks over at them. They're taking shots and talking way too loudly. "Sounds absolutely riveting." 

Shyla's mouth clamps shut. Had he really noticed that they mistreated her? Is it obvious? 

"I mean, it's been fine so far. They're just a little more outgoing than me." 

"Bullshit. They treat you like rubbish, and I've known you for less than a day." 

Shyla is quiet because she knows he's right. If she can see it, why can't anyone else? She's in this boy's arms, touching his skin, and she feels more comfortable with him than the girls she's been friends with for years. Is that wrong? Or is this a feeling she shouldn't fight? 

Shyla stares into his glassy eyes and then down at his lips. Something is magnetizing about him. He pulls her in and makes her feel seen.

"Do you want to come back to my place?" Harry asks, just loud enough to hear over the music and chatter. "I have a jacuzzi, or we could listen to records and dance some more." 

"I would really like that," Shyla says, releasing herself from his proximity. "Um, let me go tell my friends." 

"Screw them." He catches her hand before she can leave, pulling her back. "Just come with me. They're too plastered to notice you'll be gone." 

Shyla thinks they wouldn't notice even if they weren't plastered. "Okay," she gives in, playing with his fingers. "Are there taxis here? Maybe an Uber?" 

Harry laughs, his nose wrinkling as his hand rests on his stomach. "I'm afraid taxis in Lurgashall are nonexistent." He gently picks an eyelash off Shyla's cheek. "Listen, it's a ten-minute walk to my cabin. We can get to know each other on the way there." 

She doesn't have to contemplate. "Let's go." 

—— 

| The Boy & The Girl | 

On the journey to his cabin, Harry sobers quite quickly. Shyla had a few sips of her margarita, so there was only a faint buzz coursing through her veins. They talked about what it was like growing up in their respective hometowns and their favorite music artists. He's a Dolly Parton fan, and she's obsessed with Blondie. 

They round the corner of the main path, his arm slung around her shoulder. When the cabin comes into view, Shyla's breath hitches. It's a black A-frame structure with a wooden balcony. The jacuzzi Harry mentioned is surrounded by potted plants. The place is completely secluded in the forest, with no other houses visible for miles. 

Harry guides her up the stairs and to the front door, opening it for her. He reaches for the light switch, and the room lightens as they enter. To their left, there's a kitchen, a cozy and compact area with a small island and a counter along the wall. A tilted window panel is angled over the sink, providing a glimpse of the pine trees outside. 

His living room is opposite the kitchen. It has a leather couch, a rustic fireplace, and rugs scattered across the floor. Along the wall is a bookshelf packed with all sorts of titles. On the other wall, there are shelves filled with records, and under them is a vintage record player. The wallpaper is old-fashioned, with picture frames holding minimalistic paintings of roses, daisies, and orchards. 

A rickety staircase leads to a loft area where his bedroom is. It fits a queen-sized bed and a square wooden bathtub next to it. String lights hang along the log rafters and railing, creating an inviting and intimate ambiance. 

Harry begins removing bags off the counter in the kitchen while Shyla admires his space. "Sorry for the mess," he mumbles, putting groceries in the fridge. "I wasn't expecting anyone tonight." 

"It's okay. You have such a beautiful home." Shyla hopes she's not intruding when she asks, "Is it just you that lives here?" 

"Just me. And my horse on occasion." Harry is suddenly nervous. It's been so long since someone was in his home. Does she think it's odd that he lives in a cabin alone in the woods? Does she think he's a loser for having a bookshelf stuffed with romance novels? 

"I would kill to live here," Shyla says, disproving his insecurities. "Living by yourself sounds so nice. I have to live in a congested apartment with one of my friends you saw today." 

"Hmm," he hums while slowly walking toward her. "That's a shame." 

"It's fine. Once I get my degree, I'm going to find somewhere to live on my own." 

He stops in his tracks. This girl keeps surprising him. "Yeah? What do you study?" he asks as he changes his course and strides over to his record player. 

She joins him and replies, "Psychology. I want to be a school counselor." 

"Shit... you're quite clever, then. Have you been trying to psychoanalyze me all night?" 

"From what I can tell, you're a very composed person. At least on the outside." She begins sifting through his records. There's ABBA, Supertramp, Stevie Nicks, and Pat Benatar. He's an old soul.

Harry stays silent at her assumption as he takes a black record out of its sleeve and carefully sets it on the turntable. He moves the needle to a specific spot, and a crackling song eventually filters through: "My Girl (My Love)" by Dolly Parton. It's her slowed-down version of the original song by The Temptations. 

Leaning his hip against the table, he watches Shyla take out a Stevie Nicks record. She gazes up at him and gently smiles before setting it down and closing the distance between them. Her hands innocently grasp the lapels of his leather jacket. His skin looks so smooth under the subdued lighting of the cabin, the black ink on his chest and stomach standing out. 

Shyla begins taking his jacket off, raising her eyebrows to silently ask if she can continue. He nods, so she removes it and lets it fall to the floor. Then, she drapes her arms around his bare shoulders. Harry hesitantly places his hands on her waist, swaying them to the steady music. He can't remember the last time he touched someone like this. 

He has always felt like a bullseye. Everyone tries to hit him straight in the heart and win his affection, but they miss every time. No one has gotten close. No one has wanted to get to know the real him. 

Except for Shyla. 

She hit him in the bullseye when his green eyes met her brown ones. She pierced his lonely heart, and now he's terrified because he knows he'll mess it up. He's forgotten how to love another person and keep a flickering spark from dying. He takes the road less traveled and refuses love before he can get hurt. 

Yet he craves it like a greedy beast. Every night, he becomes jealous when he goes to the pub and watches couples dance. He becomes wretched when he tipsily listens to love songs and wishes he had someone to sing with. He becomes desperate when he falls asleep and dreams of being held by someone. 

The opposing path is right in front of him, but he's scared. He should run away before it grows into something he can't control, right? That's what he's used to. But as they sway, Harry obliterates those thoughts and focuses on the present. This sweet, gorgeous girl is in his arms, and she's real. 

When the song ends, Shyla steps away and moves toward the sketch papers she noticed while dancing. She admires the unique designs; flowers, suns and moons, and minimalistic landscapes of oceans and desert views fill the pages. 

"Did you draw these?" she quietly asks as her fingertips trace the graphite. 

Harry clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. He's slightly embarrassed since no one has seen them besides himself. "Kind of. Well, yes, actually. I have a lot of tattoos, as you can see. I drew most of the ones on my skin myself." 

"These are incredible," she says, facing him. "You're so talented. What's your favorite tattoo?" 

This is what he means. She's the only one who tries to dig past the hardened shell around his heart. 

Harry spreads his left arm out and doesn't hesitate to point to a specific one above the inside of his elbow. Shyla leans in closer to read the small lettering. 

Mirror in the sky, what is love? 

"I got it for my mother," he explains, his throat tight. "She's... not with us anymore. She passed away eight years ago. Anyway, she would always play "Landslide" on her guitar when I was a kid." 

He hasn't opened up about that in years. What is this girl doing to him? 

Her fingers delicately touch the ink. Harry watches her softened eyes graze over the other tattoos on his arm. "I'm so sorry," she whispers with a sympathetic frown. "I lost both of my parents, so I understand how difficult it is." 

She rarely talks about her parents. Why is it so easy with him? 

"Shyla," Harry breathes, grabbing her wrists in comfort. "God, I'm sorry. That's awful." 

"It's okay. I was only four when it happened, so I don't remember much. But growing up with no parents was strange. I still feel lost a lot of the time." 

"Yeah, I get that. We don't have to talk about it anymore. Kind of a mood killer." 

Shyla laughs and nods. "I agree." She pauses and says, "Hey, I think I'll take you up on that jacuzzi offer you mentioned earlier." 

"You read my mind," he says before letting go of her wrists and walking toward the patio door leading to the balcony. 

When they step outside, the nighttime chill makes them shiver. Harry turns the string lights on above the circular jacuzzi tub and then presses the button to turn the water heater and jets on. The moon and twinkling stars above make the forest visible, the leaves rustling in the wind. She's glad she dressed warmly. 

Oh no. She just remembered that she doesn't have her swimsuit. It's in her luggage in the trunk of her friend's car. 

"Harry?" Shyla says timidly. 

"Yeah?" 

"Um, I don't have my swimsuit with me." 

He twists around and blinks once while checking the water temperature. "Oh. Well, that's a problem." 

"I could walk back to the pub and grab it out of my suitcase," Shyla suggests. She really doesn't want to say goodnight to him yet. 

"No, no. It's late, and you don't know your way around. I could… give you a pair of boxers to wear? Is that weird? Sorry, I shouldn't—" 

"No, that would work! If you're okay with it, of course." 

"I'll be right back." Harry shuffles back indoors, and Shyla dips her fingers in the hot, bubbling water of the jacuzzi. This night has not gone as planned, but she's not complaining. 

Moments later, Harry comes back with a folded pair of grey boxers. He shyly hands them to her before they both turn their backs to change. He first removes his shoes and jeans, then puts on a pair of white swim trunks he grabbed from his dresser. He usually sits in the jacuzzi completely naked, but that's neither here nor there. 

Once he's changed, he doesn't turn around in case she isn't done yet. 

Shyla puts his boxers on and decides to keep wearing her shirt. She regrets not wearing a bra tonight. She'll have to cross her arms over her chest the entire time. 

"Okay, I'm all set," she says, shifting her hair to one side. 

When Harry slowly turns around, his breathing instantly falters. She's in his boxers. It seems wrong, but so right. 

He gestures for her to get in the tub first. Seeing her curves and exposed legs makes his blood rush. Once she's in, he gets in and sits across from her. He submerges his entire body in the water except for his head as Shyla brings her knees to her chest and thinks of something to break the awkward tension. 

"Thank you for tonight," she says eventually. "And for making me a drink and teaching me how to play darts. And how to ride a horse." 

Harry rests his arms against the edge of the jacuzzi. "My pleasure. I hope I didn't mansplain darts to you. I just love playing and got excited when I got to teach someone." 

"No, it was fun. I'm totally going get a bullseye next time we play." 

"Good luck," he murmurs with a smirk as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. "So, you're planning on coming to the pub again tomorrow?" 

"My friends will probably want to since they seemed to be having a wonderful time." Shyla rolls her eyes at the thought. "I'm sure they wouldn't care if I went alone, either." 

Harry opens his eyes and studies her face. He can't help but wonder why she's friends with such horrid people. They should appreciate her grace and kindness, not ignore her, and act like she's a burden. 

It's quiet for a few seconds before Harry sits beside her. The silence that ensues is unbearable as he brushes his arm against hers. 

Then, without warning, his pinky grazes the back of her hand under the water. It's the lightest touch, but it sets her skin ablaze. His eyes are burning holes in the side of her face. Flipping her palm so it faces up, she awaits his next move. Her heart nearly gives out when his fingers slowly walk across her palm. His thumb strays and begins stroking the crease, stretching directly underneath her own fingers. 

Enough of the tension. 

Shyla straddles Harry's right thigh and holds the sides of his neck. He stares at her, hunger and smug desire in his eyes like he wants her to initiate something.

"Is this okay?" she asks. Harry isn't saying anything, so she wants to be sure. 

"Can I ask you two things?" Harry replies, his voice low and steady. Shyla is confused, but she nods anyway. "First question: Is this okay?" His hands rest on her ass. She nods again, more eagerly. "Good. Second question: Do you want to ride my thigh?" 

Oh. Shyla was not expecting that. When she feels Harry lift his thigh to apply a slight pressure to her core, it feels heavenly. 

"I've never done it before, but I want to try," she whispers as she grinds against the defined muscle. 

Harry groans at her movement and pushes his hands on her ass to keep her grinding against him. Shyla rocks back and forth, the relief making her whimper into his neck. He keeps his thigh propped up as he runs his hands across the expanse of her back. 

"That's it," he murmurs. "Just like that." 

"It feels so fucking good," she says. Her swearing causes Harry to let out a low rumble and nip at her jaw. She doesn't even know what she's doing to him. 

"Atta girl," he praises, barely brushing his lips against hers. "Use it. Make me a mess." 

Shyla realizes they haven't kissed yet. His lips look soft and inviting, and they're right there, so she tests the waters and gently, almost hesitantly, suckles on his bottom lip. Harry smirks into it, causing their lips to part. 

She shakily exhales as she continues grinding against his thigh. "Kiss me."

He laughs at her impatience, then envelops his lips with hers. He kisses her deeply, moans getting caught in both of their throats. Shyla slows her motions down since she's close. 

Harry's tongue parts her mouth, and he inhales when she starts sucking on it. She switches to gliding her tongue under his. A fueled desire to be closer makes their teeth clash, and their hands roam near dangerous places. He lifts her and sets her over his other thigh, never breaking the kiss. A fleeting glance at her face tells him she's confused by the change, so he separates their mouth contact and squeezes her hip to get her attention. 

"I tattooed something on my thigh a couple of days ago," he says, his chest heaving. "It's still sensitive. I want you to ride it." 

Shyla doesn't waste any time as she grinds down, continuing her mission to orgasm strictly using his thigh. She can't see the tattoo he mentioned due to the cloudy water, but the thought alone makes the pressure bloom in her stomach. Harry's jaw goes slack as she rides the sensitive skin with fresh ink on it. The friction is borderline painful, but he loves it. It hurts better than any needle piercing his flesh. 

"Good girl, Shy," he whispers. His cock is throbbing at this point, straining uncomfortably under his shorts. "Gonna make me come just from watching you." 

The nickname and one last skim over his thigh has Shyla stilling and pouring her moans into Harry's ear. She feels like she's floating outside of her body as she orgasms. 

Harry, on the other hand, isn't done yet. He situates her body so that it's facing a jacuzzi jet. His arm circles around her stomach as she straddles backward on his slick thigh, the pulsating jet directly in line with her core. Shyla cries out from the sensation, her head lulling against his shoulder. Harry rubs soothing circles onto her clit through her — his — boxers as the jet stimulates everywhere else. She can't help but grind against his thigh again as another orgasm begins building. 

"Again," he encourages against her cheek. "One more for me." 

The double stimulation and his dirty talk quickly coax another orgasm out of her. Shyla's body crumbles when she releases for the second time, Harry's hands rubbing up and down her trembling thighs. 

"You did so good," he says, pulling her away from the jet. He turns her around, and she wraps her legs around his waist. 

Shyla clings to his warm body, slumping her head against his neck and breathing heavily from the adrenaline. Harry holds her and soaks in the physical intimacy he's been craving for so long. His cock is still aching, but he just wants to hold her right now. Feel her skin melt with his. Her heartbeat. Anything other than loneliness. 

After a while, Shyla removes herself from his arms and stands up on shaky legs. She steps out of the jacuzzi and looks at the sky. 

"You're leaving?" Harry asks with a hint of insecurity. 

"I should get back. My friends will be wondering where I am." 

"Ah, okay. Wait here. I'll get some towels." 

Harry hops out of the jacuzzi, his bulge on full display, and then goes inside. Water drips all over the floor as he jogs upstairs to his loft, palming at his cock to get some relief. He bites on his fist to stifle his moans as he swiftly grabs two bathroom towels he keeps by his dresser. 

Shyla's cum is on his thighs. She came twice on each of his thighs and soaked all the way through the boxers she had on. Even when he got out of the water, the result of it stayed on his skin. On his new tattoo, no less. The mental picture is unbelievably raunchy. 

When he steps back outside, he sees Shyla squeezing her shirt out. Her nipples are pebbled underneath, and he nearly passes out from the explicit sight of her casually standing before him. He snaps from his immature fantasy and hands her a towel. She dries herself off, a weird silence lingering in the air. Harry hates it. How did they go from being intimate to not knowing what to say? Will she ask to stay the night? Or will she leave him lonely like everyone else? 

He turns around when Shyla begins to remove the boxers. He nibbles on his swollen bottom lip, dries himself off, and puts his leather jacket back on. He decides to just keep his swim shorts on so he doesn't have to face the shameful reality of how she made his cock the hardest it's been in years. 

Shyla inhales sharply, making Harry turn back around. "I'm going to leave," she says, buttoning her denim shorts. "My friends are probably blackout drunk, and I need to drive them before they stupidly do it themselves." 

He nods understandingly. She's right, but that doesn't mean he wants to say goodnight to her yet. "Will you let me walk you back to the pub?" he softly asks. 

Shyla smiles and gestures for him to lead the way. He puts his shoes back on while she does the same. They then head down the stairs, Harry grabbing a lantern on the way so they can see. 

In the limited light, Shyla catches a glimpse of the tattoo on his thigh. It looks like the head of a tiger, and she notices the leg hair surrounding it is still coated with her arousal. It must not have washed off in the jacuzzi. Something fervent stirs in her stomach when she realizes he didn't even wash it off when he went back inside. 

They walk to the pub silently, and Shyla is irked by the awkwardness. Did she do this whole thing wrong? She checks her phone and sees that it's almost one a.m. 

She's about to shake every doubtful thought from her mind, but when they finally arrive at the pub, the car she rode in is gone without a trace. 

Now that's just cruel. 

Shyla takes deep breaths while swallowing her anger. It manifests as prickly heat spreading across her skin like wildfire. The inn they were going to stay at tomorrow is close by, so she could just see if she could acquire a last-minute room. It's not a big deal, right? 

Harry is furious. Who does that? He can't believe anyone would do something so disrespectful to such a kind girl. It doesn't matter if they're drunk; it's selfish and reprehensible in his eyes. 

"Stay at my place," he says abruptly, his jaw clenching. 

Shyla looks at him and shivers from the breeze. "I can't. Listen, I had a great time, but I need to figure this shit out with my friends and make sure they're okay. I'll find directions to the inn and get a room for the night." 

"Shy, I'm not letting you walk alone when there's a pub full of drunks nearby." 

That damn nickname makes her weak. 

"I carry pepper spray in my pocket. Go home and get some rest." 

Harry sets the lantern down before stressfully raking his hand through his hair. "I won't get any rest if I don't know you're safe," he says. 

"Do you have your phone with you?" Shyla asks. "I'll give you my number." 

"I- I don't use one," he mutters, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

"You really should have a phone, Harry." Her posture perks up. "Wait, the pub has to have one, right? Go in there, and I'll call it when I get to the inn. Does that sound good?" 

Harry sighs and peers at the door. "Yeah, sure. But I'm gathering a search party if I don't hear from you in twenty minutes." 

"Don't worry. I know self-defense." 

"Good, but… just please be safe," he says anxiously.

"I will." Shyla begins walking down the gravel path. "I'll call the pub. Promise." 

Harry helplessly watches her leave. He should say something, maybe convince her to stay with him, kiss her, walk her to his cabin, and hold her under the covers. But he's an idiot that fucks things up every time. 

When Shyla calls the pub seventeen minutes later, Harry answers and gets his heart broken. She tells him that her aunt is picking her up tomorrow to go back to Portsmouth because she got into a nasty argument with her drunk friends over the phone on her way to the inn. 

She hangs up before he can say anything, and he can't help but feel like he just lost her. 

—— 

| The Girl | 

Shyla's aunt arrives at eight in the morning. Despite all the yelling over the phone, her friends were decent enough to drop her luggage off at the inn where she managed to get a room. 

They were smart enough to have one of them be the designated driver at the pub. As much as Shyla is beyond livid, she's relieved they're all in one piece. But she can't forgive them for leaving her without knowing where she was. 

Then there's Harry. God, she feels sick to her stomach about what happened. She hung up on him because she was frustrated. Not at him, but at her friends who had been assholes, telling her she should've told them she met someone and went home with them. Well, she technically did go home with someone, but she thinks it's common decency for friends to tell friends when they're taking the car with her belongings in it to who knows where. 

Shyla was going to wait until she calmed down to call the pub, but it would have taken too long. Harry would have gone looking for her by then, so she spoke to him in a high-strung tone and told him she was going home. She was so focused on finding someone to pick her up that she didn't get to ask him about seeing each other again.

She has no way of contacting him now unless she calls the pub again or the ranch he works at. What would she say? Would he even want to talk to her? It doesn't matter since she doesn't plan to return to Lurgashall. Her friends are still staying there for the rest of the week, and with the tiny population, she'd be bound to run into them. 

Shyla looks out the car window as the city of Portsmouth slowly fades into view. She's back where she's comfortable and ready to stay with her aunt for a few days until she finds another apartment. 

Everything will be fine. She'll forget about her friends and forget about Harry. It was just one night. She has always been replaceable. 

—— 

| The Boy | 

Why can't he just say what he means? Why did he let her walk away so easily? Why won't she leave his mind? 

Sitting in the bathtub in his loft, Harry numbly stares at the ceiling as the water's warmth consumes him. Rose bath salt tints the water pink, and petals from his mother's favorite flower float on the surface. He purchases a bouquet from the general store every week since it's the only physical remembrance he has left of her. His father got rid of everything else. 

On the table across from his bed, a record player echoes Dolly Parton's Jolene album throughout the cabin. "Lonely Comin' Down" plays, and Harry almost laughs at how the lyrics perfectly fit his forlorn mood. 

He didn't get much sleep last night after the phone call, maybe three hours interrupted by tossing and turning. He had jerked off in the bathroom, feeling unbelievably ashamed of himself. He then drowned his sorrows with whiskey until his heart became heavy enough to knock him unconscious. He woke up the following morning with a migraine and drank some more whiskey for breakfast. His soul sank when he saw the Stevie Nicks vinyl Shyla picked out still on the table. 

She won't leave his mind. Her presence lingers everywhere. 

He wallows during his bath and thinks of everything he should've said and done differently. He's drunk with blurry vision from either the alcohol or tears. He doesn't know or care. All he wants is to feel her again. Try to love her. He's known her for less than twenty-four hours, yet it feels like a lifetime. He felt it at the ranch, the pub, and the jacuzzi. She pulls something out of him that hasn't seen the light of day in so long — nervousness, desire, sensuality. Idyllic emotions that are otherwise scarce in his life. 

He has never fallen this fast before—never at all… until now. It was inevitable that he'd be an idiot and not fight for her. He let her slip through his fingers without a kiss goodbye, and now she's miles away, probably cursing his name. 

Swallowing the aching lump in his throat, Harry lets the petals in the water mend his damaged soul as tears of loneliness drip down his face. 

—— 

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles x oc #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #adore-laur #bullseye

[mariana-oconnor]

The Sussex Vampire pt 2

It took me five times to write the title correctly, so this is clearly going to go brilliantly.

Back to the vampires

Now, my working theory is that the son is secretly trying to off his new half-sibling and frame his stepmother. Mainly I think this because Peru, because British authors in the first part of the twentieth century loved a good untraceable tropical poison from South America.

“She verra ill,” cried the girl, looking with indignant eyes at her master. “She no ask for food. She verra ill. She need doctor. I frightened stay alone with her without doctor.”

First... wow. That's some terrible accent work there. Yikes. Second, is she ill because she's been sucking poison out of her baby's neck?

“Would your mistress see Dr. Watson?” “I take him. I no ask leave. She needs doctor.”

First, all he's going to do is prescribe brandy. And second, it's lucky he's actually a medical doctor (Although I'm not convinced he's ever done much medicine. He wasn't at his practice much before he abandoned it to live with Holmes again.) You can't just go assuming that everyone called doctor such and such knows medicine. I have many friends and relatives who are doctors and literally 1 of them is a medical doctor.

Both were high, and yet my impression was that the condition was rather that of mental and nervous excitement than of any actual seizure.

Or... an untraceable tropical poison...

“A fiend! A fiend! Oh, what shall I do with this devil?”

A fiend? A devil? Or perhaps...

(No, she's referring to the son. Definitely because who else could it be. Way too obviously directed at her husband here for it to actually be him.)

So far no brandy though. Watson must have lost all his medical knowledge since he left his practice. Woe.

“He loves me. Yes. But do I not love him? Do I not love him even to sacrifice myself rather than break his dear heart? That is how I love him. And yet he could think of me—he could speak of me so.”

Lady, I get it, I get it. You don't want to tell him his son is a murderer. But given the evidence you've left the poor man with, what do you expect. You think he'll just be like 'well, she beat my son and she keeps chowing down on our baby's neck, but I trust that she knows what she's doing?'

...a youth entered the room. He was a remarkable lad, pale-faced and fair-haired, with excitable light blue eyes which blazed into a sudden flame of emotion and joy as they rested upon his father. He rushed forward and threw his arms round his neck with the abandon of a loving girl.

The child is evil.

Although I kind of dislike how they're using his 'excess' of emotional response to show this, especially with the comparison to a woman. There's a distinct undercurrent in this description that sparks of him 'showing too much emotion for a boy' and therefore being othered.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into things in order to support my own hypothesis. Am I altering data to suit my story? Am I the misogynistic one reading too much into this.

Although it literally says in the text that his father 'gently disengaged himself from the embrace with some little show of embarrassment.'

Like, tell me that isn't outright supporting my reading.

Presently he returned, and behind him came a tall, gaunt woman bearing in her arms a very beautiful child, dark-eyed, golden-haired, a wonderful mixture of the Saxon and the Latin. Ferguson was evidently devoted to it, for he took it into his arms and fondled it most tenderly.

Watson out there refusing to apply gendered pronouns. How very modern of him. Lol.

It is a bit weird to see a baby referred to as 'it' so consistently, though. Not even 'them'. Reminds me of the baby object in the Sims.

Then he smiled, and his eyes came back to the baby. On its chubby neck there was this small puckered mark. Without speaking, Holmes examined it with care. Finally he shook one of the dimpled fists which waved in front of him. “Good-bye, little man. You have made a strange start in life."

Holmes being very nice to a baby. Actually interacting with... it? when he really doesn't need to. Not like the baby knows what he's saying. Just taking the time to be nice to a baby. Super heartless and lacking in empathy, that man.

“Do you like her, Jack?” Holmes turned suddenly upon the boy. His expressive mobile face shadowed over, and he shook his head. “Jacky has very strong likes and dislikes,” said Ferguson, putting his arm round the boy. “Luckily I am one of his likes.”

On the one hand, perfectly reasonable to dislike the woman who beat you. On the other hand, maybe the father knows his son is capable of terrible things.

The boy cooed and nestled his head upon his father's breast. Ferguson gently disengaged him.

Oh my god, he's a kid. Let the boy have a hug. Even if he is a monster-child, this is probably why. Though I have a sneaking suspicion the story is going to try to tell me it's the exact opposite.

"Now, Mr. Ferguson, I am a busy man with many calls, and my methods have to be short and direct. The swiftest surgery is the least painful. Let me first say what will ease your mind. Your wife is a very good, a very loving, and a very ill-used woman.”

And your son is a murderer.

“I will do so, but in doing so I must wound you deeply in another direction.” “I care nothing so long as you clear my wife. Everything on earth is insignificant compared to that.”

People really need to think before they make statements like this. I understand that he is unlikely to consider that his son is trying to murder his other child in a fit of outraged jealousy over having to share his beloved father, but still... famous last words.

"The idea of a vampire was to me absurd. Such things do not happen in criminal practice in England."

The specficity of this is very bizarre. Do they happen in other kinds of practices in England?

"Was there not a queen in English history who sucked such a wound to draw poison from it?”

Was there?

OK, apparently this refers to Queen Eleanor, who sucked the poison from Edward I's poisoned knife wound in 1272. A story that has, sadly, fallen out of vogue in the English educational system. Probably because we don't really like to discuss the crusades except in a very general, distant sense. Or... y'know... any of the other times we invaded people. There are a lot of gaps in English history lessons.

“A South American household. My instinct felt the presence of those weapons upon the wall before my eyes ever saw them. It might have been other poison, but that was what occurred to me. When I saw that little empty quiver beside the small bird-bow, it was just what I expected to see. If the child were pricked with one of those arrows dipped in curare or some other devilish drug, it would mean death if the venom were not sucked out."

Curare, that was the name I've been trying to think of. Very popular for a while in literature.

“I watched him as you fondled the child just now. His face was clearly reflected in the glass of the window where the shutter formed a background. I saw such jealousy, such cruel hatred, as I have seldom seen in a human face.”

Sometimes it does suck to be right.

Suck... heh. Pun wasn't intended, but I'll take it.

“I think a year at sea would be my prescription for Master Jacky,” said Holmes.

Like... they're making him work on a ship? I know therapy isn't really anything at this point in time. But would-be murderer child gets sent to sea?

I doubt he'll be killed in a mysterious shipwreck off page, like so many others have been, but really... how is sending him to sea going to help literally anyone? Surely it'll just make him angrier and more resentful.

Victorian parenting was super weird.

Is this to 'make him a man', because we've seen him being compared to a woman? Is this some sort of misguided restoration of the gender binary to save him?

"There, now,” he added as he closed the door behind him, “I think we may leave them to settle the rest among themselves.”

Also Holmes reading the room well enough to know husband and wife need some alone time?

(One last vampire gif there that I don't know if anyone but me will even recognise. Josef, you almost made me understand the vampire thing...)

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Sussex Vampire #long post #Qd

[the-empress-7]

Hey, it's Wimbledon anon! If you remember, I'm busy with my baby but I have a funny story and some interesting news.

I'm friends with someone who has the title "Lady" and that is what I can reveal about her. Lady has some connection to the rf, not to so much to William because she is younger than him. Still, she is familiar with the inner workings and there she had the misfortune of spending time with the Sussexes. Now, this is the part where I almost peed myself from laughter. According to Lady, Meghan has really bad breath, like a combination of a decaying tooth and smoking. She said it's hard to talk to her when she is close which would explain the faces people pull around her in the pap videos. She suspects she had a bad tooth or really did smoke before the event (This was in 2018, a little before the wedding). She said she couldn't finish her luch from the bad breath and she said Harry's hygene is no better, he constantly smelled like sweat.

As for the news, there was someone at work who mentioned that Camilla might attend Wimbledon with Catherine and pull rank, therefore she will have to hand out the cup to the winner. My girls at PR are doing their best to avoid this, we know who gets clicks and interest from the public and after the pandemic and inflation, we can't afford to be a charity. Another thing we hope for which we didn't manage to do last year is to start filming a documentary and get our beautiful Princess of Wales involved. We had a scare that Andrew wanted to attend this year but BP made it clear he won't be able to use the Royal Box or perks. Guests expected this year: The Prince and Princess of Wales with Prince George and Princess Charlotte of Wales, Princess Beatrice and her husband, the Duchess of Edinburgh, Lady Gabriella Kingston, Lady Gabriella Windsor, the Greek royals (we don't know who, but inquries were made) Earl Percy, the Duke of Westminster and his partner, Pippa and James Matthews, Tom Hiddleston and Zawe Lowe, Tom Holland, Michael and Carole Middleton, the Beckhams (probably the entire clan), Brad Pitt, Margot Robbie, Roger Federer and there was more but my braim can't remember them all. Almost all of them are confirmed, Earl Percy is 50/50 because he is just there for fun.

Wimbledon Anon! I hope you and the little one are well, and I hope you are enjoying motherhood 💞

Thanks for so much tea! I don't know about Meghan, but Harry actually does look like he smells 😷 As for Camilla attending Wimbledon and wanting to hand out the trophy, I really hope good sense prevails in the end and that she doesn't.

Take care and hugs for the little one xx

#Wimbledon anon

[feministsforkatemiddleton]

Royal Rota reporters and Meghan articles, circa 2019

Some posters pointed out that Charles and Camilla do leak while, William and Catherine do not. This is true. It is more nuanced than how the reporter to NYMag described it, and I'm guessing that's perhaps their experience versus other rota members.

Charles is notorious for leaking, especially against his sons, and is "friendly" with royal reporters.

However, I'd like bring up a different element here. The Sussexes and co. claim the rota was unfair to Meghan and portrayed her in a negative light. Well...let's look at a reporter of their ire, Rebecca English of the DailyMail, and some of the headlines of her reporting in 2019.

For example:

Prince Harry jokes about baby number TWO as he engages in rugby banter with Falklands veteran - while glowing Meghan tells guests: 'We're nearly there'

Meghan's fashion finale! Duchess of Sussex stuns in a blue Carolina Herrera gown as she joins her husband for a private meeting with King Mohammed VI on their last evening in Morocco

Meghan's fashion finale! Duchess of Sussex stuns in a blue Carolina Herrera gown as she joins her husband for a private meeting with King Mohammed VI on their last evening in Morocco

Touching moment Meghan glances down at her baby bump during an investiture ceremony in Morocco (before cheeky Harry jokes that he didn't realise she was pregnant)

Maternal Meghan makes a beeline for two adorable sisters who waited for TWO HOURS to catch a glimpse of 'the prince and princess' in Morocco

Meghan impresses schoolgirls in Morocco by talking in FRENCH - but embarrassed Harry apologises because he doesn't speak it, after Duchess of Sussex has henna tattoo to celebrate pregnancy

Pregnant Meghan dazzles in a flowing red Valentino dress covering her bump as she and Harry land in Casablanca ahead of three-day tour of Morocco where they will stay as guests of King Mohammed

Bun's the word! Meghan goes for a sleek topknot as she opts for an all-black outfit including a recycled Givenchy coat for university visit

Meghan's starring role! Duchess of Sussex is pretty in peach at the National Theatre as she makes her debut as royal patron after succeeding the Queen

oh and look here!

Palace staff are forced to spend hours moderating 'hundreds of thousands' of vile sexist and racist comments on Palace social media pages aimed at Kate and Meghan fuelled by rivalry between the duchesses' warring fans

The Markle sparkle! Meghan glitters in a £3,400 Roland Mouret gown and Diana's bracelet as she joins Harry for a charity performance by Cirque de Soleil at the Royal Albert Hall

Note: This was the night when allegedly Meghan told Harry she was struggling with her mental health, and he did nothing.

Joking well-wisher tells pregnant Meghan she's 'a fat lady' during her visit to a London animal welfare charity - but fortunately the Duchess sees the funny side

'We're ready, we're so excited': Moment Meghan couldn't resist revealing her due date to fans in Merseyside - and one claims she 'came straight out with it'

I'm having an April baby! Meghan lets slip to well-wishers during a walkabout in Birkenhead she is now SIX months pregnant – but doesn’t know if it’s a boy or a girl as she wants it to be a surprise 

Here one unflattering story, which is based on the incident when Meghan lashed out at a staffer that English herself witnesses while the Sussexes were on tour in Fiji. Again - this is what the press does. You don't do your job, you misuse their power, and they call you out.

Meghan's bodyguard to quit after just six months in the job - weeks after her PA walked out - as protection officers 'find the Duchess's wish to be "one of the people" challenging' 

More complimentary articles

Meghan shows how to dress to impress! Duchess gives fashion tips as she becomes patron of charity helping women get back to work - while wearing a £2,600 coat and a £1,700 handbag

How Meghan is 'incredibly relaxed' about her impending birth despite being up to a week overdue and facing having a hospital delivery instead of her dream natural home birth

Ha, fun side bar -- Amal Clooney getting an award from Charles.

Amal Clooney joins Prince's Trust charity as a figurehead for the first global youth campaign... with Prince Charles finding her 'deeply impressive' 

Juming forward to the South African tour -- which actually, the Sussexes did very well on.

Archie meets the Archbishop! Meghan Markle and Prince Harry take son to tea with veteran anti-apartheid campaigner Desmond Tutu whose daughter jokes: 'He's going to be a ladies' man!'

Meghan Markle conjures memories of Princess Diana as she wears a headscarf in public for the first time on visit to Cape Town mosque  

'He's the best dad!' Meghan Markle praises Prince Harry's parenting skills as he says she is 'the best mum' after they join in dance with South African children on latest stop in their African tour 

Meghan Markle is greeted by a very enthusiastic fan, 81, as she and Prince Harry visit Cape Town's poignant District 6 Museum before sitting down to a snack of traditional pastries and samosas

Prince Harry says he 'can't wait' to introduce son Archie to Africa as he, Meghan and the baby head off for a ten-day tour

'Meghan will inspire women, partly because she is black': University of Johannesburg professor praises Duchess of Sussex as she is greeted by excited students ahead of tonight's reunion with Prince Harry

Fit for a prince! Meghan Markle picks up some denim dungarees for Archie (and jeans for herself) before hugging starstruck girls as she visits Johannesburg art studio without her son or Prince Harry

Meghan Markle thrills a classroom of charity workers when she SKYPES them during Prince Harry's visit to a college in Malawi on the couple's African tour

Then the Sussexes went to Canada and announced that they would step back from royal duties, and it all went downhill from there because of their own actions.

ACTIONS = CONSEQUCNES.

#princess catherine #team wales #british royal family #princess of wales #prince william #sexism #brf

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Sussex.com and Archewell rebrand: Compassion Inaction by u/somespeculation

Sussex.com and Archewell rebrand: Compassion Inaction It’s been over 1500 days since they announced Megxit (January 8, 2020).All they have independently accomplished is hypocritically monetizing their Royal connection, whilst simultaneously claiming to have “found freedom” from it.Their Sussex slogan rebrand is: “Show up. Do good.”And they do show up. They valiantly show up to promote themselves for positive PR. For awards, for Oprah, for Netflix, for promotional interviews, for podcasts, for faux diplomatic visits, for press. Most recently, with their own GMA camera crew for Invictus (their same MO as flying their own photoshop photographer Misan Harriman to Invictus Germany in 2023). Perhaps we should applaud Harry’s surprisingly swift recovery from the PTSD flashbacks of cameras clicking that he pityingly shared with ITV back as an actual working Royal in 2019. BetterUp must be miraculous. How chivalrous and heroic of the Suss ex-Royal, Harry, to magnanimously offer through the press yet another version of half-in, half-out while King Charles battles cancer. Apparently, the prodigal son is willing to crawl back into the institutional “trap” for spare change. (Helpful hint: if someone literally escapes your company by flying away in a helicopter, it’s not a good sign.)A cursory glance through their own website bios reveals scant CVs, signifying nothing. Their achievements are metaphorically parallel Meg’s wardrobe: 50 shades of beige. It is especially apparent where Meg is reaching back to pre Harry days, nearly a decade old of one-of TiG-featured ‘achievements’, embarrassingly reminiscent of the trope of the popular girl who peaked in high school. Comparatively, the Wales’s children assisting for 2 hours at the baby bank before Christmas already appears to encapsulate more of the Sussex brand than the Sussexes themselves. The contrast could not be more stark. “Do” is an active verb. Yet what has Brand Sussex actively “done” that focuses on others and not their own self aggrandizement? What have they actually done in a selfless, time intensive, hands-on way (beyond a few grudgingly made donations, which again, is not “doing”)? Any concrete examples? Bueller? Bueller? There have been brief 30 mins or less forays into performative charity appearances in those 1500 overseas days: a few food deliveries during covid (that TMZ and Backgrid all fortunately happened to capture),Meg flew to Ulvade where she wandered into the kitchen to help set up chips for a bit (spending less time than setting up her own photoshoot), a brief visit to Harvest Home charity pop up for pregnant homeless women (wearing a $4000 coat, where she went for lunch afterwards and spent more time with her $18 Caesar salad). If one were to total up their actual “doing” in over 1500 days, it’s laughably less than one average 40 hour work week. How noblesse oblige of the Duchess (or knobless oblige, in the case of our wayward Prince). Yet even Archewell failed to donate to any of these organizations - just like their Form 990 from 2022 proves it hasn’t donated to African Parks, Sentebale, or Invictus. Apparently philanthropy begins at home. All the Harry and Meghan rebrand shows is their only consistent post-Megxit brand: “All grift, no duty” (courtesy of Fleming at the NY Post). Sussexploitation. post link: https://ift.tt/VkHqwdi author: somespeculation submitted: February 17, 2024 at 10:34PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

#SaintMeghanMarkle #harry and meghan #meghan markle #prince harry #fucking grifters #Worldwide Privacy Tour #Instagram loving bitch wife #Backgrid #voetsek meghan #walmart wallis #markled #archewell #archewell foundation #megxit #duke and duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #duchess of sussex #doria ragland #rent a royal #clevr #clevr blends #lemonada media #archetypes #archetypes with meghan #invictus #invictus games #Sussex #somespeculation

[sassyfrassboss]

So what's funny about this is I was at KP a year after their wedding, literally a day after Archie was born and their merch was one or two things!

I was in the UK 2 months after their wedding, so July 2018. All of their wedding merch was like 60% off in the KP gift shop. Meanwhile all of the "new baby prince" merch for Louis was still at original prices and the shopgirls could barely keep the items in stock.

I was able to talk to the shopgirls about the commemorative royal merch and they said that poor sales for the Sussex wedding meant the Royal Collection Trust (which operates the gift shops and plans all of the official commemorative china/merch) was probably going to take a loss on the Sussex collection and they probably wouldn't do "new baby" collections for Sussex children since there was no public interest.

The way the girls talked about it, it sounded as if there was a kind of embarrassment that the Sussex merch didn't sell to expectations. It almost felt like it would have been better not to do a commemorative collection (or do a smaller collection) and have demand outweigh product, rather than what actually happened: product far exceeding demand.

So they do actually pay attention to the data and sales coming from the gift shops. #themoreyouknow

Remember Meghan bragging about the billions HER wedding brought to the UK economy. Rumor was she felt that she was owed a portion of the proceeds.

When I was there I went out and got to chatting with a few people at a pub regarding the duo and people HATED her.

[skz-jieun]

Jieun's Family

💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍

Disclaimer: All characters are completely imaginary and do not exist in real life. Names, places, occupations, and experiences are all made up. All the pictures are from Pinterest and are not mine. Credit to the owners.

🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓

[Parents / Single Father – Lee Minhyun & Oliver (Junhyuk) Ki]

Jieun’s mother Lee Minhyun was born in 1979 in Gimpo, South Korea. She grew up with a single mother and as an only child. She was a good student and always loved music and art. In 1995 she auditioned for the newly founded SM Entertainment and was accepted.

Jieun’s father Ki Junhyuk, or Oliver Ki, was born in 1978 in Salford near Manchester in England. He grew up with his british mother, korean father and a twin brother. He is incredibly talented in math and is a pretty technical thinking person. At 16 years old he did an exchange year in Korea.

The two met in 1994 in school and immediately started hanging out. Junhyuk was adopted into Minhyun’s friend group, and it didn’t take long for them to develop feelings for each other. However, there was one problem. Minhyun’s dream of becoming an idol. She was technically not even allowed to date as a trainee and therefore the two kept it a secret.

Eventually Minhyun was told she could debut in an upcoming girl group in 1997. Minhyun had to face the difficult choice of either living her dream as an idol or loving the person she wants. And she chose the latter. Leaving SM Entertainment and therefore the entertainment industry to get married to Junhyuk in the same year, 1997.

The two moved from Korea to the small town of Rey in East Sussex, England. Here Minhyun gave birth to a baby girl, named Ki Minji or Sarah Ki, in the year 1998. She got a job as a hair dresser in the small town and Junhyuk started work as a police officer.

A whole four years later in 2001 their second daughter and last child, Ki Jieun, or Elizabeth Ki, was born. Their little family was perfect. They had everything they needed.

In 2008 tragedy ripped Minhyun out of her family as she died in a robbery with only 29 years old. She leaves behind her grieving husband and two daughters, Minji and Jieun.

From then on, Junhyuk had to raise his daughters alone. While Minji was ten years old, Jieun was merely seven. And only a year later, his youngest daughter Jieun wanted to join a Kpop company. He was skeptical at first but in hopes that she could live the life Minhyun never could, he let her go.

With 17 his older daughter Minji had the vision to create her own business and with his help she build up a small cosmetic company.

💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍

{Sister – Ki Minji (Sarah Ki)}

Jieun’s older sister Ki Minji, or Sarah Ki, was born in 1998 in Rey, East Sussex. She was an extraordinary student and had inherited her father’s business skills.

Minji took after her father and had the same skills such as management, math, and strategic thinking. Jieun took after her mother with a love for dance and singing.

She and her sister got along great. They were always joking around and balanced each other perfectly. While Minji is the more rational one, Jieun is more on the emotional side. The head and the heart. That’s how their parents always used to call them.

In 2009 her little sister left to live her dream while Minji still tried to handle their mother’s death. Since 2013 she had the dream to create her own business and with the help of her father she finally managed to open a small cosmetic business in 2015. They didn’t have much room and had renovated the old guest room into a little lab to create the cosmetics. Unexpectedly the company blew up. So much so, that in barely a year, they had to expand and were able to buy a full laboratory and business building. At only 19 years old Minji was a CEO of her own cosmetic company with 9 factories all over the world and thousands of employees. Over the following years the business only grew and Minji couldn’t believe what she had accomplished with her father.

In 2018 she met a chinese model named Haoyu who modeled for her company and fell in love with him. They started to date in the same year and eventually made their relationship official. Since then, they have been living together and while Minji still leads the company, Haoyu continues his model career.

🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓🤍💓

© skz-jieun - all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, or translate my work on Tumblr or other platforms.

#oc family #i-am-confused-about-life #skz jieun #skz-jieun #stray kids #stray kids 9th member #stray kids female member #kpop addition #stray kids added member #stray kids addition #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #kpop female member #stray kids female addition #stray kids oc #skz oc #skz female member #skz addition #skz female addition #skz female oc

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Meghan Markle, in a pure mean girl-agent of satan fashion, pursued a connection with anyone who shared her disdain for William & Catherine.

She even attempted to publish a book with Robert Jobson, "our royal baby." I doubt Jobson discussed his failed sussex collaboration in the new book about his man-crush, Charles.

I received a reply to my decision not to read Jobson's book. Jobson, like Katie Nicholl, appears to harbor an odd dislike for William, and even worse he's made nasty comments about Catherine so I cannot support his work:

Lady C, who once referred to the RRs as "jealous sewer rats," told her followers to purchase Jobson's book. Of course she hasn't actually read the book, but after the success of Revenge, she makes a point to recommend all "royal" books except those by written by Tom Bower who according to her "isn't fair." I actually think she meant Bower isn't fair to Charles. Lady C looks good in many colors, but green doesn't suit her at all.

Jobson and Lady Cs nemesis Scooby Doo Doo

Am I wrong to think Jobson made a few scathing comments about the Sussex duo in an attempt to obtain what we might call megxit dollars?

Scooby Doo Doo's bio takes after his mistress. Interesting that he mentions the Cambridges wedding. They cannot keep up with their lies🤔

#Jobson #megxit #scooby doo doo #step away from the injections #Royal Reporters #brf #tom bower #revenge #The Royal Rogue #mean girl #lady colin campbell

[mrmrswales]

My Wales + BRF Predictions 2023

The Wales family will move into apartments at Windsor Castle

William will add at least 5 new patronages

William will become Royal Colonel of the Welsh Guards

Catherine will be given her first military appointment

William’s Investiture as Prince of Wales will be marked by a Service of Thanksgiving to cap off the Waleses’ first Wales Week

William will use Duchy land for his homeless project

William and Catherine will host foreign heirs at a special event prior to the Coronation

William and Catherine will attend CP Hussein + Rajwa’s wedding

William and Catherine will do at least 2 Commonwealth tours

Earthshot 2023 will be in Paris

William and Catherine will receive their first non Commonwealth/foreign honor

William will be central to Charles’ coronation

Catherine will add another core theme to her interests

William will do between 250-300 engagements

The BRF will mark George’s 10th birthday with stamps/and or special event

Catherine will wear the Girls tiara at the Coronation

All three Wales children will attend the Coronation and select engagements around it

A new project will be announced by Catherine

Catherine’s next private secretary will also be a civil servant

Both William and Catherine will have at least one solo foreign visit

BRF + Others

The Coronation will be scaled back but will have at least 1 Tiara event

The BRF will host 2 State Visits

Charles and Camilla will visit Canada

The BRF will have a Service of Thanksgiving to mark HM’s anniversary + this will be attended by foreign royals

Eugenie and Jack will announce a second pregnancy

Charles will not make Edward (+Sophie) Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh

The Duke of Kent will announce his retirement from royal work

HM’s and Philip’s patronages will finally be passed to other royals

The Sussexs will attend the coronation (lmaoooooooooo)

James and Alizee will have their first child

Baby Lux 2.0 will be a girl

[shiftythrifting]

1) Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head mug I almost bought

2) a wicker chair with the world's worse patch job

3) bad picture of an album named "Hospital Music"

4) a very sad baby in a very sad stroller

5) Santa and some girls he definitely stole

6) to cutest little rebel ill never forget

Found at Dairytown Market in Sussex, NB Canada

#thrifting #shiftythrifting #submission #mr. potato head #mugs #dolls #canada #furniture #music and video

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Autumn 2023 Rumor Round-Up

Rumors and theories resolved October - December 2023

Confirmed

Sussexes want an invite to Royal Christmas 2023. (tons of PR from Meghan and Harry about it)

Charles to make a decision about the Sussex children's titles after Spare is published. (He took no action, which is a kind of decision...)

Harry's book finishes him with UK aristocracy and the BRF. (No invite to Charles's 75th birthday party, no invite to the Grosvenor wedding, excluded from the Sandhurst book, etc.)

Sussexes to get the Edward/Wallis treatment following Spare - e.g., only Harry is invited back, weddings and funerals only, no private or personal relationships. (Only Harry appears to be invited back and talks are happening through staff.)

Harry's book to be a financial disaster and incur very little, if any, profit. (Year-end publications from the industry revealed that Harry hadn't made back his advance and sales really struggled.)

Meghan wasn't invited to the coronation. (Markus papwalk)

Kate had two gowns for the coronation. (While it hasn't been officially confirmed by sources, the embroidery on her dress in the portraits is different from the embroidery on her dress worn to the service.)

Meghan crashed the US special forces ribbon-cutting event; only Harry had been invited to attend. ("behind the scenes" story from one of the organizers)

The Sussexes were not invited to Charles's birthday party. (didn't attend)

The Sussexes aren't invited to the Grosvenor wedding. (They told on themselves, clapping back with several "we're invited but we declined" stories.)

Busted

Spare's audiobook to be nominated for a Grammy 2023. (didn't happen)

Waleses Christmas 2023 photo is taken by Millie Wilkington. (didn't happen - she did a photoshoot in the spring of the family)

Fourth Wales baby to be announced via the 2023 Christmas card. (didn't happen)

William and Kate to have a fourth child, a girl, in 2023. (didn't happen)

Harry and Meghan separated, will divorce in 2023. (didn't happen)

Kate pregnant with twins, due in October 2023. (didn't happen)

Prominent UK families, such as the Churchills, will sue Harry over stories in his book. (didn't happen)

Meghan will hit rock bottom in 2023. (didn't happen; she's fallen down a few rungs - back to merching and pap walks - but she hasn't hit rock bottom yet.)

Sussex divorce after Harry's book tour obligations end in February 2023. (didn't happen)

Sussexes to divorce in November 2023. (didn't happen)

Meghan to leave Harry if he goes to the coronation without her and the children. (didn't happen)

Meghan is beginning her divorce PR with the Markus papwalk on coronation weekend. (didn't happen)

Sussex divorce announcement timed for Earthshot 2023. (didn't happen)

Sussexes to divorce in 2023 and at the same time, the press superembargo on the children's births will be lifted. (didn't happen)

Harry to return to the royal fold for Christmas 2023 and he'll bring the children with him on the Christmas Walk to insulate from boos and cricitism. (didn't happen)

Sussexes to make a public statement in the summer or early autumn about their children. (didn't happen)

Waleses to face a press tsunami in autumn 2023. (They did get some criticism in the autumn, but nothing I would consider a "press tsunami." For reference, a "press tsunami" is an overwhelming critical coverage like the kind the Sussexes faced when they were in Australia. The Waleses haven't seen anything like that.)

Sussexes to attend Charles's 75th birthday party or other events. (didn't happen)

Meghan to re-launch The Tig in November along with Endgame. (didn't happen)

Sussexes to attend Royal Christmas 2023. (didn't happen)

Only Harry is invited to/will attend Charles's 75th birthday. (didn't happen)

The Sussexes will appear in the documentary made for Charles's birthday. (didn't happen; this rumor came from when we knew Charles was having cameras follow him, but before we knew it was about the coronation prep.)

Charles's family order to be debuted in the 2023 Christmas Speech. (didn't happen)

Sussex Christmas Card to be released at a time it takes attention away from Kate and/or the Waleses. (didn't happen - the Sussexes' card was released on Dec 15th.)

The 2023 Sussex Christmas Card to feature a previously-unreleased photograph of the children with Her Late Majesty. (didn't happen)

Charles or William to be named in the Epstein papers. (didn't happen)

Meghan to attend the Golden Globes 2023 as part of the Suits reunion. (didn't happen)

Plausible

The Netflix docuseries was meant to include the Sussexes' charity work but the idea was scrapped after backlash in real-time. (The Archewell "impact video" published in December 2023 of work they claimed was done in 2023 includes footage from appearances made in 2022 that were confirmed to have Netflix cameras present.)

The Sussexes have been banned from the Carlyle Hotel for their past behavior. (They haven't stayed at The Carlyle since September 2021 - the Mandela Day/UN appearance - despite having gone back to NYC at least 3 times since.)

The Sussexes plan to use Endgame's criticism of the BRF to bury the "Harry's Nazi uniform" storyline on The Crown. (There was an awful lot of Endgame stories published that weekend, but it could be a coincidence.)

Partially Confirmed

William to attend the December 2023 Sandhurst passing out ceremony. (He did attend a passing out ceremony in December, but it was for the naval academy, not Sandhurst.)

Kate excluded from Charles's documentary to avoid upsetting Meghan and Harry, the same way she was excluded from The Queen's documentaries. (Kate didn't give a "talking head" to the documentary, but then again, most of the royals didn't - only Anne gave an interview.)

Scobie's "Endgame" will pick up where Spare left off, and the Sussexes will have an overt influence on the material so they can have new material with which to attack the BRF. ("Endgame" didn't pick up where Spare left off, but we can tell the content was influenced by the Sussexes and the Sussexes did intend to attack the BRF with the new information.)

#round up #brf #rumors #theories #plausible #busted #confirmed

[kifu]

Two chicken pens put together. My bantam cochin (hopefully) lavender carriers have technically BEEN together, but shh.

These are the sussex/cochin cross trio. Their eggs are either getting eaten or hatched on site, and no chicks will leave the property. I will only be keeping a couple mille fluer patterned chicks with feathered legs. Which I said is ... 9%? probability per chick.

I am SO excited to start getting eggs from these girls and hatch babies.

#chicken rant

[houseofbrat]

I really hope the Cambridges have another cute baby. When do you think the announcement will be and how people will perceive it, because they have a bad economy now

No idea when the announcement will be. For a girl that will be born after 02 July 2023, they’re probably not going to announce it until after the holiday break. Don’t even know how long of a break the royals will be taking for the holidays this year since it’ll be King Charles’ first Christmas as monarch. 

I’m not going to try and predict how peeps in the UK will react to it. They’ll have Charles’ coronation to get done and the Sussex implosion & divorce for the tabs to focus on. 

The Sussex separation/divorce/implosion will probably end up being a big help to the BRF as the UK tabs can focus all their negative energy on Harry & Meghan. Also, another Wales kid will push Harry & kids further down the line of succession, which will make lots of other people happy. 

#ask #babies #Wales kid number FOUR #William The Prince of Wales #Catherine The Princess of Wales #2023: Year of the Water Rabbit