#Simon is getting princess Dianaed

[legendarydragonperson]

THAT'S HOW THEY END IT?!?

[why4anne]

Daylight

Part: 7/?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Social Media au

Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver

Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others

Masterlist

2022

theathletesgala

liked by yourusername, ellenpompeo and 645 943 others

theathletesgala:

Musical guest and award presenter Y/N L/N is in the building. She's wearing a stunning Versace gown and a killer cat eye.

view comments:

yourusername: 🫶🫶

y/nenjoyer: she looks STUNNING!!

girlypopy/n: Dare I say... Revenge dress?

vintagel/n: Oh, definitely!

holyleclerc: It's giving Princess Diana

lonely4lifer: Charles, look at what you lost

havemyleclerc: She is the one who fumbled

summery/n: Y/N lost a second tier F1 driver, Charles lost global pop icon, highest streamed female artist, the woman, the myth, the legend Y/N L/N

leclerctingzz: He's not a second tier F1 driver, he's the future of Ferrari

ubery/n: How many WDC?

childofdivorce: Auntie Blake pick me up I'm scared

lewishamilton: @/donatella_versace you outdid yourself with this dress

donatella_versace: Donatella VERSACE💜

theathletesgala:

liked by lewishamilton, simonebiles and 426 392 others

theathletesgala:

It's a star-studded event here tonight. Multiple athletes have now made their way onto the red carpet including:

Formula 1 drivers Charles Leclerc, Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, Footballers Neymar and Alex Morgan, Gymnast Simone Biles, Figure-skater Tessa Virtue and NFL Quarterback Joe Burrow

Keep your eyes open for your favorite athlete to arrive!

view comments:

joeyb_9: Such a well organized event!

lewishamilton: Blessed to be here🙏

charles_leclerc: Happy to be included❤️

alexmorgan13: This will be so much fun

moreleclerc: Putting Neymar and Charles beside each other is CRAZY

lilttley/n: Okay but can we talk about how both Lewis Hamilton AND Joe Burrow interacted on the post about Y/N earlier??

gemmal/n: Y/N now has the chance to do the funniest thing ever and get with Max Verstappen

home4l/n: STOP- that would be too iconic

justleclerc: The world is not ready for that sort of chaos

theathletesgala

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theathletesgala:

Miss Y/N L/N what a performance!🙌👏

view comments:

heavenlyy/n: Mother did not come to play tonight!

realy/nfan: fr! She saw that both of her exes were in attendance and said "hold my wine glass"

unifiedy/n: Singing ATW and you're loosing me back to back while STARING at table number 12 (Charles and Neymar's table) is absolutely FOUL!

justl/nthingz: She's so cunty, I love it!

l/ny/nfavorite: Okay but why is no one talking about how she literally sang silver springs by Fleetwood Mac and in true Stevie Nicks fashion was glaring daggers into Charles while doing so!!!!!???

bluey/n: next level balls frfr!

bobbiey/n: Okay but that outfit??? Mother ATE!🔥

holyl/n: Ass out and everything for Charles to see🤭

justy/nfans: I just know that that man will go home and cry himself to sleep tonight

celebritynews

Liked by 202 392 people

celebritynews:

After receiving an anonymous tip from a reliable source, it seems as if Y/N L/N left the athletes gala after party with one of the guests of the night. Who it was is still unclear but stay tuned on celebritynews for more information!

view comments:

summery/n: This girl is a wag at heart

flowersbyl/n: That's so true! She does love her athletes😭

y/nleftpinkynail: Honestly she's so real for that😍

l/nbyy/n: Just like me fr!

chad.larsen: She's such a slut!🙄

leclerc_l/n: Bro GTFO with your musty ass comments!!🤢

brianyoung: Watch out whoever it is. She's gonna write a song about you😵‍💫

littley/n: It's almost like THAT'S HER FUCKING JOB???🤯

greenflowers: misogyny☕️

l/nhouse: Okay but who was it???!!!!

justagirl: I think it was Joe Burrow, did you see how he was looking at her while she was performing??😍

godlyy/n: I hope with my entire being that it's Max Verstappen💀

slayvettel: That would be too iconic!!

icemanfan: Y'all tripping, it's gotta be Lewis!

heavenlyy/n: HOLD UP! What if it was Neymar??

yourusername

liked by blakelively, nicorosberg and 6 582 194 others

yourusername:

cellphone on silent📱❌

comments are disabled:

Tag-list: @mindflay3r @karmabyfernando @lightdragonrayne @ilove-tswizzle @sadg3 @sassyheroneckgiant @c-losur3 @spideybv28 @boiohboii @charizznorizz @amel1ee @loloekie @sunny44 @janeholt3 @berrnuu

[groenendaelfic]

Do you think Simon would actually be willing to become the Prince Consort tho?! Like yes he LOVES Wille but I don't think he'd ever wanna officially set a foot in that system let alone give up his career for being a working royal

The quick answer is yes, I think he’d thrive. Go read my fic Becoming Prince Simon for details.

The long answer is that I think that just like we tend to make Wilhelm into this social justice prince who’d love being a house husband and hates being a royal, when in fact he is quite comfortable with ignoring staff while he walks past them in a ratty old t-shirt and sweatpants because there’s nothing more normal than living in a palace and having staff cater to him for him, and he actively enjoys ordering Jan-Olof to send him food to the middle of nowhere Hillerska, to name but two examples of how Wilhelm very much doesn’t mind being royal or privileged, and just hates being told what to do or say and having to act like someone he isn’t, Simon, too, isn’t this grand idealist.

Sure he’d like being treated fairly, who doesn't, especially when you always draw the short straw even while following the rules while your classmates get away with breaking them without problem, but the truth is he’s rather pragmatic.

He gets back in contact with his drug addict, alcoholic and to a currently unknown degree abusive father so that he can acquire alcohol for his underage classmates to drink so that Sara can attend a party, and then steals drugs to among other things pay for math tutoring because he wants good grades.

I’m not saying Simon would jump at the chance to join the royal family, but he’d come to see the advantages, and I’m not just talking about him being with Wilhelm, but also all the good he can do. He doesn't need to be a monarchist for that.

So yes, I don’t only think Simon would be willing to become Prince Consort, but that he’d thrive once he got accustomed to the idea.

After all modern day Sweden isn’t Czarist Russia or pre-revolutionary France, you can’t just burn that shit down (and get the Soviet Union or Emperor Napoleon), because that wouldn't work and attempting so would do more harm than good. 

You need reform and systematic change, and to change a system you need to interact with it, for example from the inside, and as spouse to the Crown Prince and later King, Simon would be in the ideal position to affect that.

He doesn’t need any actual power to highlight problems and topics important to him or for people to pay attention and listen. It doesn’t always have to be Diana shaking hands with a man with aids in the 80s, it can be something as trivial as the irl second in line opening a fairytale trail in her duchy as a toddler.

What the royal family does (and doesn’t! do) gets publicity and is reported. Simon knows that. He grew up seeing it all the time.

And the people most likely to take note of what the royal family does? Those I dare say are also some of the ones who could do with a bit more exposure to the causes Simon would highlight.

Also not to be mean but give up what career? We know Simon enjoys making music and he wants to get out of small town Bjärstad, but as far as we know he has no great, specific career ambitions he’d have to give up.

I’m gonna end this with a potentially triggering and extreme example, so take care.

When the royal court announced that the irl Swedish crown princess had an eating disorder I was in junior high. I'll always feel sorry for what she had to go through so publicly and it definitely is another point on the list of why monarchies and celebrity culture are the worst, but I also cannot overstate how much good that publicity did when it came to bringing awareness to the topic of eating disorders.

Suddenly that was something that was seriously discussed as an illness by people in power and who otherwise never would have, and not just in a ‘haha those silly teenage girls wanting to look like Kate Moss’ kind of way, because it was the crown princess and not some random pop starlet, and if that can happen to someone like her, then who is to say it can’t also affect our own children etc?

We were taught about it in school, in detail, when my older cousins never were, how to recognize them, how to help, where to go for help. More, there suddenly were places to help, places that were actively advertised which hadn’t been before.

There were clinical programs being opened and awareness campaigns launched, and not just in Sweden. (I’m not saying she was the only reason, it was the late nineties, it was really, really necessary, but she was a big deciding factor when it came to the amount and speed at which things changed)

It sucks that royals and celebrities highlighting important issues can make such a difference, and I’m the first to go yell abolish all systems of inequality irl, but Simon could do a lot of good as a working royal, and he’d actually care about changing things, instead of just finding it a boring necessity like irl royals and the YR royal family including Wilhelm do, which is why I think that in a few years, given time, he would very much be willing to become part of the system if only to bring what change he can, especially when no one else can take his place and do it instead of him.

[synchodai]

Episode 6 Live Reaction

I liked it! Best parts are the Larys and Mysaria scenes and the worst parts continue to be the Black council scenes.

New tapestry addition: is that Aemond raising the sword? And the blood is black now for some reason...

Lannister host from the sigils — Jason Lannister!!! Yes, I love seeing non-Targs on my screen! It just makes the world a bigger place and conflict more realistic.

Jason Lannister sounds like Prince Charming from Shrek, I love it.

It's actually a pretty good and realistic addition that the highborn aren't willing to fight a dragon without a dragon backing them. Not all of them would have this attitude ofc (the northmen have a deathwish and wouldn't gaf), but someone like Jason Lannister would.

RED KRAKEN MENTIONED! KRAKENNATION WE STAY NOT SOWING!

"I'll fly up to meet you when the time is right." For a dragon war that can be ended more quickly if someone with the most dragons just swarmed everyone, these people sure don't wanna use them. In the book, Aemond was less scrupulous about using Vhagar while Rhaenyra was less inclined to send out dragons prior the dragonseeds because it would be her and her sons who would be directly in the line of fire.

Tbh, if I was Aemond I would fire my mom too, she technically doesn't have anything to do at the table. If she were actually treating with lords to get more support or doing Princess Diana PR appearances to ingratiate the smallfolk, she'd have something to offer the council, but her job right now begins and ends with complaining about everyone else's plans.

Gods, Rhaenyra we get it—stop complaining about how your hands are tied. It doesn't project power or wisdom to your lords who are listening!

"Dragons are gods." Only exceptionalists would say this. Otherwise, it's blasphemy to the Seven. But Steffon Darklyn being an exceptionalist would make sense.

"I do not compel you to do this." UGH, STOP WRITING RHAENYRA LIKE THIS. She was raised a highborn princess—she's lived her entire life ordering people around! Even "softer" monarchs like Robb Stark and Daenerys didn't end every command with "Please" or "if it's not too much trouble." They knew they had to project power and confidence. Rhaenyra acts like a person who's never been in a court of people who would jump at the chance to criticize her for appearing weak. You cannot mask the fact that she is ordering her people to death in pleasantries. "Go to war for me" isn't made better by the ruler saying "only if you want to." It just makes her look weak and unconvinced of her own plans and power.

Omg welcome back, Paddy Considine!

Weird that Daemon suspects Simon Strong first before the actual woman who greeted him by announcing his death, but okay.

"Perhaps those who strive to wear it are the least suited to wear it." Ugh, it's giving s8 GOT "ambitions are bad, wanting power for any reason is bad, the only good stance is apoliticism" vibes.

Why is the bastard lowborn woodswitch spouting about the burdens of the crown? It like a regular citizen saying, "oh, it must be so hard being the president" which is technically true but not something someone whose primary interaction with the president is through taxation would say.

And now Daemon is asking the bastard lowborn woodswitch for her counsel. Unlike Mysaria, she hasn't proven to have any politically valuable skill — she's just been scolding him this entire time (like what Alicent does in her council). Scolding the men in charge is not a valuable political contribution in and of itself, you know.

Her "counsel" was the most basic information anyone could tell him. "Ally with the liege to get the support of all his vassals" wow, groundbreaking, Alys. Does Daemon not already know about House Tully?

Love the dragon-claiming scene though. It's immensely tense. This show is good when people don't have dialogue.

Did no one think to bring a flame retardant to the dragon-claiming? If Seasmoke lashed out at everyone, them leaving Steffon to burn would be much easier to swallow.

I kinda love Alyn's hesitance because he knows the precarity of being a secret bastard Velaryon. Yes, it could elevate him, but it could also end up with his head chopped off.

"Nothing but fish in this damn city." If the blockade is the thing causing the food shortage, it should be everything but fish.

"It is my fault, I think, that you have forgotten to fear me." YES, RHAENYRA, FINALLY.

"This becomes you." Ohhhhh, now I see how Mysaria was Daemon's favorite, girl is so subtle and manipulative in her flattery.

"Why is this anger directed at us? It Rhaenyra the Pretender who blocks the Gullet..." Truuuueeeee.

Iron Rod looks so done when Larys does his powergrab, like "Ugh, not another upstart."

The Aemond-Larys scene was really good political posturing and intrigue. It shows that Aemond is smart enough to know he's being manipulated but not empathetic enough to handle Larys in a way that doesn't make an enemy of him.

TGC once again having a great performance. Truly, the king who serves. And Aemond holding his hand by his wound? Judas kiss me, brother.

Oh no, why is.....oh no...a dragon travelled by itself to the Vale? I mean, even if it were foraging for more food, that's really far away and at the most inconvenient place.

LOVE Alyn shaving his head so that it won't show up as white *chef's kiss*

I LOVE ADDAM AND ALYN AND THIS DIALOGUE WHERE THEY TALK ABOUT THEIR TWO VIEWPOINTS ON THEIR BASTARDY

Jace, Jace, it rhymes with face. Addam might be giving him a run for his money though once he gets more screentime.

Orwyle speaking lines directly lifted from the book is such a good detail since he's one of the sources for Fire and Blood.

They're giving so much backstory and characterization to Gwayne "one-line in the book" Hightower 😭 Meanwhile, Baela still doesn't have a personality beyond crossbow and dragon.

All this talk about Daeron but still no Daeron in sight. It would be funny if they never cast him and just have the audience know he's doing stuff through other characters expositing.

I'm not sure what to think about the food plan. The point of a blockade is to starve and cut off resources, but if they were sending said resources directly to smallfolk and not armies or commanders....hmmm... Yeah, I'm sold. (But why wouldn't the guys who found the food just hoard it?)

Do the queensguard not have shields? Shield your charges, damn.

FINALLY, some actual believable violence and punishment. Gods, I was starting to forget we were in the pseudo middle ages.

Oh, this "riot" could have been waaaaay more bloody, but I suppose they're cutting out the gore sfx for the dragon sfx.

I remained quiet, seated, captivated, and enthralled by the Aegon-Larys scene.

I will never forgive HBO for cutting out Kermit and Elmo Tully. Never forget what they took from us.

Alys killing Grover is....intriguing. It does make her a more valuable and active ally and/or foe.

Daemon has such amazing and complex character work. As far as effort for developing these characters, it goes Daemon, Aegon, Alicent, Criston, Larys, Aemond, Rhaena, Alyn.....and Rhaenyra is still all the way down there with even her son out-nuancing her. She's been stuck on "they coddle me because I'm a woman and want Daemon instead" since episode 2.

"You have me." Rhaenyra x Mysaria 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 Not the toxic yuri I expected, but maybe the one we deserved...

Welp, my new ship just started sailing.

FINALLY, Rhaenyra realized that if she wanted to go on a dragon, no one could technically stop her.

Jace's "Mother!" — no notes.

[mothmorality]

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴇᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴜsᴇs, ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ/ᴛᴠ qᴜᴏᴛᴇ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜᴇs ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ sʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪᴛ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇs

---

"without the self-criticism, i'd be lost."

aurora hirsch // wanderer. early to mid 20s. stoner living in her van out of choice, not necessity. lover of the spontaneous and dramatic.

faceclaim/talia ryder.

---

"i know these will all be stories someday."

sylas kit sinclair // mediator. early to mid 20s. soft-spoken and witty, non-confrontational, inexperienced.

faceclaim/thomas weatherall.

---

"i will not accept a life i do not deserve."

juliette rose holloway // manipulator. mid to late 20s. borderline narcissistic, overly sexual, non-commital.

faceclaim/ella purnell.

---

"i want to hide in a place that makes me comfortable."

camille jean burkeley // waif. early 20s. outwardly cowardice and gullible, inwardly cunning and calculating. all around bubbly.

faceclaim/elle fanning.

---

"how is it possible to feel nostalgia for a world i never knew?"

valentine 'val' crawford // perfectionist. late 20s to early 30s. professional, nerdy, experienced.

faceclaim/tom hughes.

---

"i'm a girl, i should do as i like."

juniper eve wallace // gossip. early to mid 20s. mean girl, uncaring, lover of hook ups and drama.

faceclaim/maddie phillips.

---

"i'm sorry? what the hell am i sorry for?"

jasper august laurent // thrill-seeker. early to mid 20s. outgoing, loud, honest, and a bit rude.

faceclaim/oktay çubuk.

---

”no, i’m not afraid to disappear.”

georgia leclaire // survivor. early to mid 20s. strong-willed, final girl, insomniac, jumpy, resilient.

faceclaim/sadie soverall

—-

“the world isn’t that good.”

kinsley elowyn drummond // rogue. early to mid 20s. princess of the kingdom of celestoria. can be rude, often in disagreement with the other royals in her kingdok, gets along better with those who have no royal connections.

faceclaim / lily james

—-

“for as long as the sun and the moon shall endure.”

clyde emerson // guardian. mid to late 20s. obsessive, compulsive, posessive, and gentle only with who he is seeing.

faceclaim / simone baldasseroni

—-

”all i have to say is, some people will be sorry someday.”

vivian everly fitz // innocent. early to mid 20s. girl next door, bright eyed, bubbly, emotional.

faceclaim / diana silvers

—-

”i want to fall in love. but, i’m bored of everyone i meet.”

diana isla winslow // manipulator. mid 20s. two-faced, self serving, survivalist.

faceclaim / halston sage

—-

”you dream in a language i can’t understand.”

clara sutton golding // traveller. early to mid 20s. commitment issues, trouble staying in one place, bright disposition.

faceclaim / maia reficco

—-

ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ ᴍᴇ﹗

[ingek73]

Personal History

May 15, 2023 Issue

Notes from Prince Harry’s Ghostwriter

Collaborating on his memoir, “Spare,” meant spending hours together on Zoom, meeting his inner circle, and gaining a new perspective on the tabloids.

By J. R. Moehringer

May 8, 2023

A portrait of Prince Harry composed of scribbles that evoke writing on a yellow piece of binder paper.

Work with Prince Harry on the book proceeded steadily—until the press found out about it.Illustration by Simone Massoni

I was exasperated with Prince Harry. My head was pounding, my jaw was clenched, and I was starting to raise my voice. And yet some part of me was still able to step outside the situation and think, This is so weird. I’m shouting at Prince Harry. Then, as Harry started going back at me, as his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed, a more pressing thought occurred: Whoa, it could all end right here.

This was the summer of 2022. For two years, I’d been the ghostwriter on Harry’s memoir, “Spare,” and now, reviewing his latest edits in a middle-of-the-night Zoom session, we’d come to a difficult passage. Harry, at the close of gruelling military exercises in rural England, gets captured by pretend terrorists. It’s a simulation, but the tortures inflicted upon Harry are very real. He’s hooded, dragged to an underground bunker, beaten, frozen, starved, stripped, forced into excruciating stress positions by captors wearing black balaclavas. The idea is to find out if Harry has the toughness to survive an actual capture on the battlefield. (Two of his fellow-soldiers don’t; they crack.) At last, Harry’s captors throw him against a wall, choke him, and scream insults into his face, culminating in a vile dig at—Princess Diana?

Even the fake terrorists engrossed in their parts, even the hard-core British soldiers observing from a remote location, seem to recognize that an inviolate rule has been broken. Clawing that specific wound, the memory of Harry’s dead mother, is out of bounds. When the simulation is over, one of the participants extends an apology.

Harry always wanted to end this scene with a thing he said to his captors, a comeback that struck me as unnecessary, and somewhat inane. Good for Harry that he had the nerve, but ending with what he said would dilute the scene’s meaning: that even at the most bizarre and peripheral moments of his life, his central tragedy intrudes. For months, I’d been crossing out the comeback, and for months Harry had been pleading for it to go back in. Now he wasn’t pleading, he was insisting, and it was 2 a.m., and I was starting to lose it. I said, “Dude, we’ve been over this.”

Why was this one line so important? Why couldn’t he accept my advice? We were leaving out a thousand other things—that’s half the art of memoir, leaving stuff out—so what made this different? Please, I said, trust me. Trust the book.

Although this wasn’t the first time that Harry and I had argued, it felt different; it felt as if we were hurtling toward some kind of decisive rupture, in part because Harry was no longer saying anything. He was just glaring into the camera. Finally, he exhaled and calmly explained that, all his life, people had belittled his intellectual capabilities, and this flash of cleverness proved that, even after being kicked and punched and deprived of sleep and food, he had his wits about him.

“Oh,” I said. “O.K.” It made sense now. But I still refused.

“Why?”

Because, I told him, everything you just said is about you. You want the world to know that you did a good job, that you were smart. But, strange as it may seem, memoir isn’t about you. It’s not even the story of your life. It’s a story carved from your life, a particular series of events chosen because they have the greatest resonance for the widest range of people, and at this point in the story those people don’t need to know anything more than that your captors said a cruel thing about your mom.

Harry looked down. A long time. Was he thinking? Seething? Should I have been more diplomatic? Should I have just given in? I imagined I’d be thrown off the book soon after sunup. I could almost hear the awkward phone call with Harry’s agent, and I was sad. Never mind the financial hit—I was focussed on the emotional shock. All the time, the effort, the intangibles I’d invested in Harry’s memoir, in Harry, would be gone just like that.

After what seemed like an hour, Harry looked up, and we locked eyes. “O.K.,” he said.

“O.K.?”

“Yes. I get it.”

“Thank you, Harry,” I said, relieved.

He shot me a mischievous grin. “I really enjoy getting you worked up like that.”

I burst into laughter and shook my head, and we moved on to his next set of edits.

Later that morning, after a few hours of sleep, I sat outside worrying. (Mornings are my worry time, along with afternoons and evenings.) I didn’t worry so much about the propriety of arguing with princes, or even the risks. One of a ghostwriter’s main jobs is having a big mouth. You win some, you lose most, but you have to keep pushing, not unlike a demanding parent or a tyrannical coach. Otherwise, you’re nothing but a glorified stenographer, and that’s disloyalty to the author, to the book—to books. Opposition is true Friendship, William Blake wrote, and if I had to choose a ghostwriting credo, that would be it.

No, rather than the rightness of going after Harry, I was questioning the heat with which I’d done so. I scolded myself: It’s not your comeback. It’s not your mother. For the thousandth time in my ghostwriting career, I reminded myself: It’s not your effing book.

Some days, the phone doesn’t stop. Ghostwriters in distress. They ask for ten minutes, half an hour. A coffee date.

“My author can’t remember squat.”

“My author and I have come to despise each other.”

“I can’t get my author to call me back—is it normal for a ghost to get ghosted?”

At the outset, I do what ghostwriters do. I listen. And eventually, after the callers talk themselves out, I ask a few gentle questions. The first (aside from “How did you get this number?”) is always: How bad do you want it? Because things can go sideways in a hurry. An author might know nothing about writing, which is why he hired a ghost. But he may also have the literary self-confidence of Saul Bellow, and good luck telling Saul Bellow that he absolutely may not describe an interesting bowel movement he experienced years ago, as I once had to tell an author. So fight like crazy, I say, but always remember that if push comes to shove no one will have your back. Within the text and without, no one wants to hear from the dumb ghostwriter.

I try not to sound didactic. A lot of what I’ve read about ghostwriting, much of it from accomplished ghostwriters, doesn’t square with my experience. Recording the author? Terrible idea—it makes many authors feel as if they’re being deposed. Dressing like the author? It’s a memoir, not a masquerade party. The ghostwriter for Julian Assange wrote twenty-five thousand words about his methodology, and it sounded to me like Elon Musk on mushrooms—on Mars. That same ghost, however, published a review of “Spare” describing Harry as “off his royal tits” and me as going “all Sartre or Faulkner,” so what do I know? Who am I to offer rules? Maybe the alchemy of each ghost-author pairing is unique.

Therefore, I simply remind the callers that ghostwriting is an art and urge them not to let those who cast it as hacky, shady, or faddish (it’s been around for thousands of years) dim their pride. I also tell them that they’re providing a vital public service, helping to shore up the publishing industry, since most of the titles on this week’s best-seller list were written by someone besides the named author.

Signing off, the callers usually sigh and say thanks and grumble something like “Well, whatever happens, I’m never doing this again.” And I tell them yes, they will, and wish them luck.

How does a person even become a ghostwriter? What’s the path into a profession for which there is no school or certification, and to which no one actually aspires? You never hear a kid say, “One day, I want to write other people’s books.” And yet I think I can detect some hints, some foreshadowing in my origins.

When I was growing up in Manhasset, New York, people would ask: Where’s your dad? My typical answer was an embarrassed shrug. Beats me. My old man wasn’t around, that’s all I knew, all any grownup had the heart to tell me. And yet he was also everywhere. My father was a well-known rock-and-roll d.j., so his Sam Elliott basso profundo was like the Long Island Rail Road, rumbling in the distance at maddeningly regular intervals.

Every time I caught his show, I’d feel confused, empty, sad, but also amazed at how much he had to say. The words, the jokes, the patter—it didn’t stop. Was it my Oedipal counterstrike to fantasize an opposite existence, one in which I just STFU? Less talking, more listening, that was my basic life plan at age ten. In Manhasset, an Irish-Italian enclave, I was surrounded by professional listeners: bartenders and priests. Neither of those careers appealed to me, so I waited, and one afternoon found myself sitting with a cousin at the Squire theatre, in Great Neck, watching a matinée of “All the President’s Men.” Reporters seemed to do nothing but listen. Then they got to turn what they heard into stories, which other people read—no talking required. Sign me up.

My first job out of college was at the New York Times. When I wasn’t fetching coffee and corned beef, I was doing “legwork,” which meant running to a fire, a trial, a murder scene, then filing a memo back to the newsroom. The next morning, I’d open the paper and see my facts, maybe my exact words, under someone else’s name. I didn’t mind; I hated my name. I was born John Joseph Moehringer, Jr., and Senior was M.I.A. Not seeing my name, his name, wasn’t a problem. It was a perk.

Many days at the Times, I’d look around the newsroom, with its orange carpet and pipe-puffing lifers and chattering telex machines, and think, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. And then the editors suggested I go somewhere else.

I went west. I got a job at the Rocky Mountain News, a tabloid founded in 1859. Its first readers were the gold miners panning the rivers and creeks of the Rockies, and though I arrived a hundred and thirty-one years later, the paper still read as if it were written for madmen living alone in them thar hills. The articles were thumb-length, the fact checking iffy, and the newsroom mood, many days, bedlam. Some oldsters were volubly grumpy about being on the back slopes of middling careers, others were blessed with unjustified swagger, and a few were dangerously loose cannons. (I’ll never forget the Sunday morning our religion writer, in his weekly column, referred to St. Joseph as “Christ’s stepdad.” The phones exploded.) The general lack of quality control made the paper a playground for me. I was able to go slow, learn from mistakes without being defined by them, and build up rudimentary skills, like writing fast.

What I did best, I discovered, was write for others. The gossip columnist spent most nights in downtown saloons, hunting for scoops, and some mornings he’d shuffle into the newsroom looking rough. One morning, he fixed his red eyes on me, gestured toward his notes, and rasped, “Would you?” I sat at his desk and dashed off his column in twenty minutes. What a rush. Writing under no name was safe; writing under someone else’s name (and picture) was hedonic—a kind of hiding and seeking. Words had never come easy for me, but, when I wrote as someone else, the words, the jokes, the patter—it didn’t stop.

In the fall of 2006, my phone rang. Unknown number. But I instantly recognized the famously soft voice: for two decades, he’d loomed over the tennis world. Now, on the verge of retiring, he told me that he was decompressing from the emotions of the moment by reading my memoir, “The Tender Bar,” which had recently been published. It had him thinking about writing his own. He wondered if I’d come talk to him about it. A few weeks later, we met at a restaurant in his home town, Las Vegas.

Andre Agassi and I were very different, but our connection was instant. He had an eighth-grade education but a profound respect for people who read and write books. I had a regrettably short sporting résumé (my Little League fastball was unhittable) but deep reverence for athletes. Especially the solitaries: tennis players, prizefighters, matadors, who possess that luminous charisma which comes from besting opponents single-handedly. But Andre didn’t want to talk about that. He hated tennis, he said. He wanted to talk about memoir. He had a list of questions. He asked why my memoir was so confessional. I told him that’s how you know you can trust an author—if he’s willing to get raw.

He asked why I’d organized my memoir around other people, rather than myself. I told him that was the kind of memoir I admired. There’s so much power to be gained, and honesty to be achieved, from taking an ostensibly navel-gazing genre and turning the gaze outward. Frank McCourt had a lot of feelings about his brutal Irish childhood, but he kept most of them to himself, focussing instead on his Dad, his Mam, his beloved siblings, the neighbors down the lane.

“I am a part of all that I have met.” It might’ve been that first night, or another, but at some point I shared that line from Tennyson, and Andre loved it. The same almost painful gratitude that I felt toward my mother, and toward my bartender uncle and his barfly friends, who helped her raise me, Andre felt for his trainer and his coach, and for his wife, Stefanie Graf.

But how, he asked, do you write about other people without invading their privacy? That’s the ultimate challenge, I said. I sought permission from nearly everyone I wrote about, and shared early drafts, but sometimes people aren’t speaking to you, and sometimes they’re dead. Sometimes, in order to tell the truth, you simply can’t avoid hurting someone’s feelings. It goes down easier, I said, if you’re equally unsparing about yourself.

He asked if I’d help him do it. I gave him a soft no. I liked his enthusiasm, his boldness—him. But I’d never imagined myself writing someone else’s book, and I already had a job. By now, I’d left the Rocky Mountain News and joined the Los Angeles Times. I was a national correspondent, doing long-form journalism, which I loved. Alas, the Times was about to change. A new gang of editors had come in, and not long after my dinner with Andre they let it be known that the paper would no longer prioritize long-form journalism.

Apart from a beef with my bosses, and apart from the money (Andre was offering a sizable bump from my reporter salary), what finally made me change my no to a yes, put my stuff into storage, and move to Vegas was the sense that Andre was suffering an intense and specific ache that I might be able to cure. He wanted to tell his story and didn’t know how; I’d been there. I’d struggled for years to tell my story.

Every attempt failed, and every failure took a heavy psychic toll. Some days, it felt like a physical blockage, and to this day I believe my story would’ve remained stuck inside me forever if not for one editor at the Times, who on a Sunday afternoon imparted some thunderbolt advice about memoir that steered me onto the right path. I wanted to give Andre that same grace.

Shortly before I moved to Vegas, a friend invited me to a fancy restaurant in the Phoenix suburbs for a gathering of sportswriters covering the 2008 Super Bowl. As the menus were being handed around, my friend clinked a knife against his glass and announced, “O.K., listen up! Moehringer here has been asked by Agassi to ghostwrite his—”

Groans.

“Exactly. We’ve all done our share of these fucking things—”

Louder groans.

“Right! Our mission is not to leave this table until we’ve convinced this idiot to tell Agassi not just no but hell no.”

At once, the meal turned into a raucous meeting of Ghostwriters Anonymous. Everyone had a hard-luck story about being disrespected, dismissed, shouted at, shoved aside, abused in a hilarious variety of ways by an astonishing array of celebrities, though I mostly remember the jocks. The legendary basketball player who wouldn’t come to the door for his first appointment with his ghost, then appeared for the second buck naked. The hockey great with the personality of a hockey stick, who had so few thoughts about his time on this planet, so little interest in his own book, that he gave his ghost an epic case of writer’s block. The notorious linebacker who, days before his memoir was due to the publisher, informed his ghost that the co-writing credit would go to his psychotherapist.

Between gasping and laughing, I asked the table, “Why do they do it? Why do they treat ghostwriters so badly?” I was bombarded with theories.

Authors feel ashamed about needing someone to write their story, and that shame makes them behave in shameful ways.

Authors think they could write the book themselves, if only they had time, so they resent having to pay you to do it.

Authors spend their lives safeguarding their secrets, and now you come along with your little notebook and pesky questions and suddenly they have to rip back the curtain? Boo.

But if all authors treat all ghosts badly, I wondered, and if it’s not your book in the first place, why not cash the check and move on? Why does it hurt so much? I don’t recall anyone having a good answer for that.

“Please,” I said to Andre, “don’t give me a story to tell at future Super Bowls.” He grinned and said he’d do his best. He did better than that. In two years of working together, we never exchanged a harsh word, not even when he felt my first draft needed work.

Maybe the Germans have a term for it, the particular facial expression of someone reading something about his life that’s even the tiniest bit wrong. Schaudergesicht? I saw that look on Andre’s face, and it made me want to lie down on the floor. But, unlike me, he didn’t overreact. He knew that putting a first serve into the net is no big deal. He made countless fixes, and I made fixes to his fixes, and together we made ten thousand more, and in time we arrived at a draft that satisfied us both. The collaboration was so close, so synchronous, you’d have to call the eventual voice of the memoir a hybrid—though it’s all Andre. That’s the mystic paradox of ghostwriting: you’re inherent and nowhere; vital and invisible. To borrow an image from William Gass, you’re the air in someone else’s trumpet.

“Open,” by Andre Agassi, was published on November 9, 2009. Andre was pleased, reviewers were complimentary, and I soon had offers to ghost other people’s memoirs. Before deciding what to do next, I needed to get away, clear my head. I went to the Green Mountains. For two days, I drove around, stopped at wayside meadows, sat under trees and watched the clouds—until one late afternoon I began feeling unwell. I bought some cold medicine, pulled into the first bed-and-breakfast I saw, and climbed into bed. Hand-sewn quilt under my chin, I switched on the TV. There was Andre, on a late-night talk show.

The host was praising “Open,” and Agassi was being his typical charming, humble self. Now the host was praising the writing. Agassi continued to be humble. Thank you, thank you. But I dared to hope he might mention . . . me? An indefensible, illogical hope: Andre had asked me to put my name on the cover, and I’d declined. Nevertheless, right before zonking out, I started muttering at the TV, “Say my name.” I got a bit louder. “Say my name!” I got pretty rowdy. “Say my fucking name!”

Seven hours later, I stumbled downstairs to the breakfast room and caught a weird vibe. Guests stared. Several peered over my shoulder to see who was with me. What the? I sat alone, eating some pancakes, until I got it. The bed-and-breakfast had to be three hundred years old, with walls made of pre-Revolutionary cardboard—clearly every guest had heard me. Say my name!

I took it as a lesson. NyQuil was to blame, but also creeping narcissism. The gods were admonishing me: You can’t be Mister Rogers while ghosting the book and John McEnroe when it’s done. I drove away from Vermont with newfound clarity. I’m not cut out for this ghostwriting thing. I needed to get back to my first love, journalism, and to writing my own books.

During the next year or so, I freelanced for magazines while making notes for a novel. Then once more to the wilderness. I rented a tiny cabin in the far corner of nowhere and, for a full winter, rarely left. No TV, no radio, no Wi-Fi. For entertainment, I listened to the silver foxes screaming at night in a nearby forest, and I read dozens of books. But mostly I sat before the woodstove and tried to inhabit the minds of my characters. The novel was historical fiction, based on the decades-long crime spree of America’s most prolific bank robber, but also based on my disgust with the bankers who had recently devastated the global financial system. In real life, my bank-robbing protagonist wrote a memoir, with a ghostwriter, which was full of lies or delusions. I thought it might be fascinating to override that memoir with solid research, overwrite the ghostwriter, and become, in effect, the ghostwriter of the ghostwriter of a ghost.

I gave everything I had to that novel, but when it was published, in 2012, it got mauled by an influential critic. The review was then instantly tweeted by countless humanitarians, often with sidesplitting commentary like “Ouch.” I was on book tour at the time and read the review in a pitch-dark hotel room knowing full well what it meant: the book was stillborn. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand. Part of me wanted to never leave that room. Part of me never did.

I barely slept or ate for months. My savings ran down. Occasionally, I’d take on a freelance assignment, profile an athlete for a magazine, but mostly I was in hibernation. Then one day the phone rang. A soft voice, vaguely familiar. Andre, asking if I was up for working with someone on a memoir.

Who?

Phil Knight.

Who?

Andre sighed. Founder of Nike?

A business book didn’t seem like my thing. But I needed to do something, and writing my own stuff was out. I went to the initial meeting thinking, It’s only an hour of my life. It wound up being three years.

Luckily, Phil had no interest in doing the typical C.E.O. auto-hagiography. He’d sought writing advice from Tobias Wolff, he was pals with a Pulitzer-winning novelist. He wanted to write a literary memoir, unfolding his mistakes, his anxieties—his quest. He viewed entrepreneurship, and sports, as a spiritual search. (He’d read deeply in Taoism and Zen.) Since I, too, was in search of meaning, I thought his book might be just the thing I needed.

It was. It was also, in every sense of that overused phrase, a labor of love. (I married the book’s editor.) When “Shoe Dog” was published, in April, 2016, I reflected on the dire warnings I’d heard at Super Bowl XLII and thought, What were they talking about? I felt like a guy, warned off by a bunch of wizened gamblers, who hits the jackpot twice with the first two nickels he sticks into a slot machine. Then again, I figured, better quit while I’m ahead.

Back to magazine writing. I also dared to start another novel. More personal, more difficult than the last, it absorbed me totally and I was tunnelling toward a draft while also starting a family. There was no time for anything else, no desire. And yet some days I’d hear that siren call. An actor, an activist, a billionaire, a soldier, a politician, another billionaire, a lunatic would phone, seeking help with a memoir.

Twice I said yes. Not for the money. I’ve never taken a ghosting gig for the money. But twice I felt that I had no choice, that the story was too cool, the author just too compelling, and twice the author freaked out at my first draft. Twice I explained that first drafts are always flawed, that error is the mother of truth, but it wasn’t just the errors. It was the confessions, the revelations, the cold-blooded honesty that memoir requires. Everyone says they want to get raw until they see how raw feels.

Twice the author killed the book. Twice I sat before a stack of pages into which I’d poured my soul and years of my life, knowing they were good, and knowing that they were about to go into a drawer forever. Twice I said to my wife, Never again.

And then, in the summer of 2020, I got a text. The familiar query. Would you be interested in speaking with someone about ghosting a memoir? I shook my head no. I covered my eyes. I picked up the phone and heard myself blurting, Who?

Prince Harry.

I agreed to a Zoom. I was curious, of course. Who wouldn’t be? I wondered what the real story was. I wondered if we’d have any chemistry. We did, and there was, I think, a surprising reason. Princess Diana had died twenty-three years before our first conversation, and my mother, Dorothy Moehringer, had just died, and our griefs felt equally fresh.

Still, I hesitated. Harry wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say in his memoir, and that concerned me. I’d heard similar reservations, early on, from both authors who’d ultimately killed their memoirs. Also, I knew that whatever Harry said, whenever he said it, would set off a storm. I am not, by nature, a storm chaser. And there were logistical considerations. In the early stages of a global pandemic, it was impossible to predict when I’d be able to sit down with Harry in the same room. How do you write about someone you can’t meet?

Harry had no deadline, however, and that enticed me. Many authors are in a hot hurry, and some ghosts are happy to oblige. They churn and burn, producing three or four books a year. I go painfully slow; I don’t know any other way. Also, I just liked the dude. I called him dude right away; it made him chuckle. I found his story, as he outlined it in broad strokes, relatable and infuriating. The way he’d been treated, by both strangers and intimates, was grotesque. In retrospect, though, I think I selfishly welcomed the idea of being able to speak with someone, an expert, about that never-ending feeling of wishing you could call your mom.

Harry and I made steady progress in the course of 2020, largely because the world didn’t know what we were up to. We could revel in the privacy of our Zoom bubble. As Harry grew to trust me, he brought other people into the bubble, connecting me with his inner circle, a vital phase in every ghosting job. There is always someone who knows your author’s life better than he does, and your task is to find that person fast and interview his socks off.

As the pandemic waned, I was finally able to travel to Montecito. I went once with my wife and children. (Harry won the heart of my daughter, Gracie, with his vast “Moana” scholarship; his favorite scene, he told her, is when Heihei, the silly chicken, finds himself lost at sea.) I also went twice by myself. Harry put me up in his guesthouse, where Meghan and Archie would visit me on their afternoon walks. Meghan, knowing I was missing my family, was forever bringing trays of food and sweets.

Little by little, Harry and I amassed hundreds of thousands of words. When we weren’t Zooming or phoning, we were texting around the clock. In due time, no subject was off the table. I felt honored by his candor, and I could tell that he felt astonished by it. And energized. While I always emphasized storytelling and scenes, Harry couldn’t escape the wish that “Spare” might be a rebuttal to every lie ever published about him. As Borges dreamed of endless libraries, Harry dreams of endless retractions, which meant no end of revelations. He knew, of course, that some people would be aghast at first. “Why on earth would Harry talk about that?” But he had faith that they would soon see: because someone else already talked about it, and got it wrong.

He was joyful at this prospect; everything in our bubble was good. Then someone leaked news of the book.

Whoever it was, their callousness toward Harry extended to me. I had a clause in my contract giving me the right to remain unidentified, a clause I always insist on, but the leaker blew that up by divulging my name to the press. Along with pretty much anyone who has had anything to do with Harry, I woke one morning to find myself squinting into a gigantic searchlight. Every hour, another piece would drop, each one wrong. My fee was wrong, my bio was wrong, even my name.

One royal expert cautioned that, because of my involvement in the book, Harry’s father should be “looking for a pile of coats to hide under.” When I mentioned this to Harry, he stared. “Why?”

“Because I have daddy issues.” We laughed and got back to discussing our mothers.

The genesis of my relationship with Harry was constantly misreported. Harry and I were introduced by George Clooney, the British newspapers proclaimed, even though I’ve never met George Clooney. Yes, he was directing a film based on my memoir, but I’ve never been in the man’s presence, never communicated with him in any way. I wanted to correct the record, write an op-ed or something, tweet some facts. But no. I reminded myself: ghosts don’t speak. One day, though, I did share my frustration with Harry. I bemoaned that these fictions about me were spreading and hardening into orthodoxy. He tilted his head: Welcome to my world, dude. By now, Harry was calling me dude.

A week before its pub date, “Spare” was leaked. A Madrid bookshop reportedly put embargoed copies of the Spanish version on its shelves, “by accident,” and reporters descended. In no time, Fleet Street had assembled crews of translators to reverse-engineer the book from Spanish to English, and with so many translators working on tight deadline the results read like bad Borat. One example among many was the passage about Harry losing his virginity. Per the British press, Harry recounts, “I mounted her quickly . . .” But of course he doesn’t. I can assert with one-hundred-per-cent confidence that no one gets “mounted,” quickly or otherwise, in “Spare.”

I didn’t have time to be horrified. When the book was officially released, the bad translations didn’t stop. They multiplied. The British press now converted the book into their native tongue, that jabberwocky of bonkers hot takes and classist snark. Facts were wrenched out of context, complex emotions were reduced to cartoonish idiocy, innocent passages were hyped into outrages—and there were so many falsehoods. One British newspaper chased down Harry’s flight instructor. Headline: ��Prince Harry’s army instructor says story in Spare book is ‘complete fantasy.’ ” Hours later, the instructor posted a lengthy comment beneath the article, swearing that those words, “complete fantasy,” never came out of his mouth. Indeed, they were nowhere in the piece, only in the bogus headline, which had gone viral. The newspaper had made it up, the instructor said, stressing that Harry was one of his finest students.

The only other time I’d witnessed this sort of frenzied mob was with LeBron James, whom I’d interviewed before and after his decision to leave the Cleveland Cavaliers and join the Miami Heat. I couldn’t fathom the toxic cloud of hatred that trailed him. Fans, particularly Cavs loyalists, didn’t just decry James. They wished him dead. They burned his jersey, threw rocks at his image. And the media egged them on. In those first days of “Spare,” I found myself wondering what the ecstatic contempt for Prince Harry and King James had in common. Racism, surely. Also, each man had committed the sin of publicly spurning his homeland. But the biggest factor, I came to believe, was money. In times of great economic distress, many people are triggered by someone who has so much doing anything to try to improve his lot.

Within days, the amorphous campaign against “Spare” seemed to narrow to a single point of attack: that Harry’s memoir, rigorously fact-checked, was rife with errors. I can’t think of anything that rankles quite like being called sloppy by people who routinely trample facts in pursuit of their royal prey, and this now happened every few minutes to Harry and, by extension, to me. In one section of the book, for instance, Harry reveals that he used to live for the yearly sales at TK Maxx, the discount clothing chain. Not so fast, said the monarchists at TK Maxx corporate, who rushed out a statement declaring that TK Maxx never has sales, just great savings all the time! Oh, snap! Gotcha, Prince George Santos! Except that people around the world immediately posted screenshots of TK Maxx touting sales on its official Twitter account. (Surely TK Maxx’s effort to discredit Harry’s memoir was unrelated to the company’s long-standing partnership with Prince Charles and his charitable trust.)

Ghostwriters don’t speak, I reminded myself over and over. But I had to do something. So I ventured one small gesture. I retweeted a few quotes from Mary Karr about inadvertent error in memories and memoir, plus seemingly innocuous quotes from “Spare” about the way Harry’s memory works. (He can’t recall much from the years right after his mother died, and for the most part remembers places better than people—possibly because places didn’t let him down the way people did.) Smooth move, ghostwriter. My tweets were seized upon, deliberately misinterpreted by trolls, and turned into headlines by real news outlets. Harry’s ghostwriter admits the book is all lies.

One of Harry’s friends gave a book party. My wife and I attended.

We were feeling fragile as we arrived, and it had nothing to do with Twitter. Days earlier, we’d been stalked, followed in our car as we drove our son to preschool. When I lifted him out of his seat, a paparazzo leaped from his car and stood in the middle of the road, taking aim with his enormous lens and scaring the hell out of everyone at dropoff. Then, not one hour later, as I sat at my desk, trying to calm myself, I looked up to see a woman’s face at my window. As if in a dream, I walked to the window and asked, “Who are you?” Through the glass, she whispered, “I’m from the Mail on Sunday.”

I lowered the shade, phoned an old friend—the same friend whose columns I used to ghostwrite in Colorado. He listened but didn’t get it. How could he get it? So I called the only friend who might.

It was like telling Taylor Swift about a bad breakup. It was like singing “Hallelujah” to Leonard Cohen. Harry was all heart. He asked if my family was O.K., asked for physical descriptions of the people harassing us, promised to make some calls, see if anything could be done. We both knew nothing could be done, but still. I felt gratitude, and some regret. I’d worked hard to understand the ordeals of Harry Windsor, and now I saw that I understood nothing. Empathy is thin gruel compared with the marrow of experience. One morning of what Harry had endured since birth made me desperate to take another crack at the pages in “Spare” that talk about the media.

Too late. The book was out, the party in full swing. As we walked into the house, I looked around, nervous, unsure of what state we’d find the author in. Was he, too, feeling fragile? Was he as keen as I was to organize a global boycott of TK Maxx?

He appeared, marching toward us, looking flushed. Uh-oh, I thought, before registering that it was a good flush. His smile was wide as he embraced us both. He was overjoyed by many things. The numbers, naturally. Guinness World Records had just certified his memoir as the fastest-selling nonfiction book in the history of the world. But, more than that, readers were reading, at last, the actual book, not Murdoched chunks laced with poison, and their online reviews were overwhelmingly effusive. Many said Harry’s candor about family dysfunction, about losing a parent, had given them solace.

The guests were summoned into the living room. There were several lovely toasts to Harry, then the Prince stepped forward. I’d never seen him so self-possessed and expansive. He thanked his publishing team, his editor, me. He mentioned my advice, to “trust the book,” and said he was glad that he did, because it felt incredible to have the truth out there, to feel—his voice caught—“free.” There were tears in his eyes. Mine, too.

And yet once a ghost, always a ghost. I couldn’t help obsessing about that word “free.” If he’d used that in one of our Zoom sessions, I’d have pushed back. Harry first felt liberated when he fell in love with Meghan, and again when they fled Britain, and what he felt now, for the first time in his life, was heard. That imperious Windsor motto, “Never complain, never explain,” is really just a prettified omertà, which my wife suggests might have prolonged Harry’s grief. His family actively discourages talking, a stoicism for which they’re widely lauded, but if you don’t speak your emotions you serve them, and if you don’t tell your story you lose it—or, what might be worse, you get lost inside it. Telling is how we cement details, preserve continuity, stay sane. We say ourselves into being every day, or else. Heard, Harry, heard—I could hear myself making the case to him late at night, and I could see Harry’s nose wrinkle as he argued for his word, and I reproached myself once more: Not your effing book.

But, after we hugged Harry goodbye, after we thanked Meghan for toys she’d sent our children, I had a second thought about silence. Ghosts don’t speak—says who? Maybe they can. Maybe sometimes they should.

Several weeks later, I was having breakfast with my family. The children were eating and my wife and I were talking about ghostwriting. Someone had just called, seeking help with their memoir. Intriguing person, but the answer was going to be no. I wanted to resume work on my novel. Our five-year-old daughter looked up from her cinnamon toast and asked, “What is ghostwriting?”

My wife and I gazed at each other as if she’d asked, What is God?

“Well,” I said, drawing a blank. “O.K., you know how you love art?”

She nodded. She loves few things more. An artist is what she hopes to be.

“Imagine if one of your classmates wanted to say something, express something, but they couldn’t draw. Imagine if they asked you to draw a picture for them.”

“I would do it,” she said.

“That’s ghostwriting.”

It occurred to me that this might be the closest I’d ever come to a workable definition. It certainly landed with our daughter. You could see it in her eyes. She got off her chair and leaned against me. “Daddy, I will be your ghostwriter.”

My wife laughed. I laughed. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I said.

But that wasn’t what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say was “No, Gracie. Nope. Keep doing your own pictures.” ♦

[sussex-newswire]

People got to send a journalist along with Harry and Meghan (and the royal rota are seething about that), so they're running the best stories. Their Royals tab right now is just a wall of stories giving details on the trip.

Today after the school visit (where Meghan called Harry inspiring and told the kids "I see myself in all of you") they changed clothes before visiting the Chief of Defense staff headquarters, so there was another round of pics from that. Then they split up and Harry traveled to a more high-risk zone, where he was given two framed paintings, one of himself with his mother and one of him and Meghan on their wedding day. He then put on a traditional garment and watched a dance performance before visiting the wounded soldiers in the story/video above.

Simon Perry from People was the only journo allowed to accompany Harry into the conflict-adjacent zone, so the rest of the press pack stayed with Meghan in the capital. I don't think we know yet what she's doing—it wasn't on the itinerary they released ahead of time—but Harry mentioned that she had engagements.

About People getting preferential treatment here: their royals coverage is sugary-to-fawning across the board, but while they aren't exactly doing any incisive hard-hitting investigations into Palace fuckery, they've also never been part of the smear campaign. Clearly building a relationship with People is part of the new Sussex comms strategy, and I think that's probably smart. (Kinsey Schofield is whining that they said they wanted to work with diverse and up-and-coming journalists, and Simon Perry is a white establishment dude, but like. Even she doesn't really believe the Sussexes were saying they'd literally never work with establishment media, does she? People is a fine choice for basic, reliable coverage, and there was obviously a good reason to limit the press pack allowed to follow into the high risk zone.)

Anyway the Daily Mail, left with nothing to do, has been scouring social media for behind-the-scenes pics taken by kids at the school visit. They're really cute. One girl snapped Meghan and then wrote "she's literally so nice" with what I think is the face_holding_back_tears emoji.

[alicentdeservesbetter]

TEAM GREEN Upcoming Projects

𝕋𝕠𝕞 𝔾𝕝𝕪𝕟𝕟-ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕪 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐 Summary: "House of the Dragon" is set nearly 200 years before the events of "Game of Thrones," telling the story of the Targaryen civil war with King Viserys I Targaryen's children battling for control of the Iron Throne. FILMING IN PROCESS

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 Summary: A down on his luck Jerusalemite embarks on a misguided attempt to capitalize on the rise of celebrity and influence the Messiah for his own personal gain. The journey leads him on an exploration of faith and an unexpected path. Release Date: September 22nd 2023

𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕒 ℂ𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕖 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐 Summary: "House of the Dragon" is set nearly 200 years before the events of "Game of Thrones," telling the story of the Targaryen civil war with King Viserys I Targaryen's children battling for control of the Iron Throne. FILMING IN PROCESS

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤 Summary: A journalist who, after the murder of her estranged son, forms an unlikely alliance with his pregnant girlfriend to track down those responsible for his death. Together, they confront a world of drugs and corruption.

𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 Summary: When her mother is sick and dying, 14-year-old Maria is sent to live with Catholic nuns. But when one of her caretakers falls for her for the wrong reasons, her arrival slowly turns sinister.

Disney Film - Announced in 2022 (nothing since :( - TBA Summary: A handsome prince (Lakeith Stanfield) falls in love with a commoner (Olivia Cooke), so her fairy Godmother turns her into a perfect princess. The prince embarks on a quest to reverse it, not realizing that he’s endangering the entire universe.

𝔼𝕨𝕒𝕟 𝕄𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐 Summary: "House of the Dragon" is set nearly 200 years before the events of "Game of Thrones," telling the story of the Targaryen civil war with King Viserys I Targaryen's children battling for control of the Iron Throne. FILMING IN PROCESS

New:

Ewan is returning for season two of 'World on fire.'

ℝ𝕙𝕪𝕤 𝕀𝕗𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐 Summary: "House of the Dragon" is set nearly 200 years before the events of "Game of Thrones," telling the story of the Targaryen civil war with King Viserys I Targaryen's children battling for control of the Iron Throne. FILMING IN PROCESS

𝐍𝐲𝐚𝐝 Summary: 64-year-old marathon swimmer, Diana Nyad, attempts to become the first person ever to swim from Cuba to Florida.

ℙ𝕙𝕚𝕒 𝕊𝕒𝕓𝕒𝕟 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐 Summary: "House of the Dragon" is set nearly 200 years before the events of "Game of Thrones," telling the story of the Targaryen civil war with King Viserys I Targaryen's children battling for control of the Iron Throne. FILMING IN PROCESS

𝔼𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕪 Geek Girl Summary: Awkward, neurodivergent teenager Harriet Manners whose life is turned upside down when she is spotted to be a model and embarks on a life-affirming journey of self-discovery as she balances high school and high fashion. Emily will play the main character for 10 episodes at least. IN PRODUCTION

Platform 7 Summary: It tells the story of Lisa who witnesses a cataclysmic event on platform 7 of a railway station and in her memory finds a connection between her own life and the event she just witnessed. POST-PRODUCTION

The Canterville Ghost - Animation Summary:An American family moves in to Canterville Chase, a stately countryside mansion that has been haunted by the ghost Sir Simon De Canterville for 300 years. POST-PRODUCTION

𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕖𝕟 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕖𝕝 The Actor Summary: When New York actor Paul Cole is beaten and left for dead in 1950s Ohio, he loses his memory and finds himself stranded in a mysterious small town where he struggles to get back home and reclaim what he's lost.

Post-Production

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Chapter 10

Foreword:

Thank you all sooo much for all your comments and feedback! That really is the best motivation and I'm always happy to try and take your suggestions into account on the next chapters... Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one as things are getting serious now...

04th August 1987 - Part 1

Middlewick House, Wiltshire

Sighing Camilla rolled to her left side in order to check the time, at least for the 30th time that night: Quarter past midnight. Gosh, she was tired. She hadn't slept properly in more than two weeks: it had been some hot and humid past weeks, not even the nights had brought a cool down, and being heavily pregnant that awful heat made her struggle even more. They had sent Tom and Laura to Dorset to stay with Annabel and Simon and spend some time with their cousins while Andrew had agreed to stay with her until the birth and the baby was due every day now. Thank goodness, Camilla thought, tenderly stroking her meanwhile huge bump. It really was high time now, especially with these insane temperatures it really wasn't fun being pregnant anymore. So far she had been blessed with a happy and healthy pregnancy, the little girl had been developing and growing excellently and she was expecting a smooth and easy birth, hopefully sooner rather than later. She couldn't wait to hold her daughter in her arms, neither could Charles, though she was concerned about whether he could really manage to be in her life as "just Sir", a family friend, like he was for Tom and Laura, who adored him, or whether it was going to break his heart at some point. Officially, Andrew was going to be her father, all rights and responsibilities included. With the publication of Queen Elizabeth II's list of birthday honours, she had at least realised what had led Andrew to change his mind about the whole thing. She didn't believe for a second that there wasn't a "connection" between this and his appointment, not only as a Colonel but also as a Silver Stick in Waiting to Her Majesty The Queen, but she had decided not to ask questions. For the moment, she was just grateful for her husband's support, though she was worried about whether he would ever be able to really accept the little one and show her at least a little bit of love, as everything else would not only be cruel but also suspicious. With twelve and nine years old respectively, Tom, and especially Laura, who was particularly attentive and sensitive, were old enough to notice if something wasn't right and the last thing she wanted was to burden her children with anything. They had both been excited and overjoyed when they had told them that they were going to be a big brother (again) and sister, though Tom had seemed a bit disappointed at first that it wasn't a boy but he had meanwhile come to terms with it and Laura had taken her responsibilities as a big sister very seriously from the beginning, had helped her preparing and decorating the nursery for the little one and gathered together hundreds of her own, beloved cuddly toys, dolls and children's books so that her little sister would have everything she needed right from the start. The only critical moment had been when she had suggested that the baby should be named Diana, after the beautiful Princess of Wales, of whom she, like probably every little girl across the United Kingdom, was a huge fan. Camilla had however convinced her that that might not be a good idea as it would probably confuse Sir and Laura had agreed and eventually they had decided on Theodora, a beautiful Greek name with the even more beautiful meaning "gift from God", which had Andrew rolling his eyes at first but since Laura loved it so much, especially as it rhymed her own name, he had finally given his approval as well. Charles, of course, had been delighted, had he been the one to suggest the name in the first place, because of its meaning and because of his own Greek blood and passion for the country and its mythology. For the middle name, they had decided on Sonia, after her beloved grandmother who had sadly died last year. Her parents had been over the moon with the prospect of being grandparents once more, and her brother Mark couldn't wait to be an uncle for the sixth time either. Sometimes she was so over the moon that she almost forgot that her baby wasn't Andrew's and she kept praying that the little one was not going to resemble her real father in any way.

Suddenly Camilla felt an enormous wave of pain going through her lower body; she had been having these terrible false contractions for a couple of days now but surely time hadn’t come yet. She had had two babies, she knew how it felt. She tried to breathe calmly and, thank goodness, the pain faded after a few moments. She closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep, when suddenly another wave of pain hit her, this time so bad that she couldn't breath for a couple of seconds. Damn, was that really only false labour? When the pain had faded again, she carefully got up and slowly walked around in the darkness. Perhaps she had just laid in an odd position and it would disappear if only she… "Oh…", she winced as the next wave hit her and forced her to lean against the wall as she was hardly able to stand through it. "Fuck!", she hissed, trying to fight back tears. God, she had forgotten just how painful it was to have a baby. Perhaps she should wake up Andrew, just in case things were going to get faster than expected. Her husband’s bedroom was at the other side of the house and she had to stop for three more labour contractions while making her way through the long corridor on the first floor and she was super relieved when she finally reached the door. Before she knocked on it, she took a few seconds and said a quiet little prayer to thank the Lord for everything that Andrew had been doing for her recently. Yes, he hadn’t always been the best husband and hadn’t always treated her the way she had wished for but the way he’d been supporting her over the last few months, the fact that he had agreed to have this baby with her, be a father for the little one, and even now, was here, with her, not at another fancy party in London but with her, to look after her and be there in case… before she could finish her thoughts, she was hit by another contraction that almost brought her on her knees and she didn’t even have to knock the door anymore; Andrew had woken up by himself, switched on his nightlight and, randomly following an instinct, got up to find his wife on the floor in front of his bedroom, tears in her eyes, and obviously in heavy pain. “Milla!”, he almost screamed in concern and rushed over to her, kneeled down beside her, trying to supervise the situation. “What’s the matter?” “It’s going so fast…”, she moaned breathlessly, when another wave of pain yerked through body. “Shit!”, Andrew exclaimed, slightly overwhelmed. “Okay, okay… um… fine. We should get ourselves ready and get you to the hospital!”, he added, trying to help her up again when she was hit by another heavy contraction, digging her nails so tightly into his shoulders that he started to bleed. “God Milla!”, he sighed in pain but before he could even think any further, she looked at him, her eyes as wide as a football pool. He looked down and saw a little puddle: her water had broken. "Fuck. Um, okay, Milla, don't worry. We don't have to change our clothes, let me just quickly get the car keys and we're off immediately …" "Andy!", she interrupted him anxiously, once more painfully digging her nails into his flesh, looking at him in panic. "We're not going anywhere. We don't have time. The baby's coming…"

[mermaidsirennikita]

Share some stalking heroes 👀

HAPPY TO.

Historical:

Obviously, Valentine Napier from Elizabeth Hoyt's Duke of Sin, He Who Lives in Walls.

Mick Trewlove does a bit of stalking when he's staking out how to steal Aslyn (in order to ruin his half-brother's life) in Beyond Scandal and Desire by Lorraine Heath.

Magnus literally hunts Melissa down like a dog in S.M. LaViolette's Melissa and The Vicar (after she leaves him).

Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale has an EXTREMELY stalkery, villainous hero and I love the degree to which he's just a creep lol. Like, the heroine is all "... how does he know these things" and the answer is "baby girl, he's been watching you sleep probably". TW: the first encounter is noncon (forced marriage consummation). Kinsale is very true to 14th century approaches to consent, but Elena does very much take the reins in the rest of it.

In a different way, the preceding novel (set 10 years before) For My Lady's Heart is also a stalkery hero book. The hero is a knight whose wife left him to join a convent (lmao) and when he's dropping her off there he sees this beautiful (married) princess who notices that he's attracted to her and calls him out... but when he unexpectedly has to give up ALL his money in order to commit his wife to the order--a thing he doesn't want to do!--the princess does him a solid and gives him some cash to get on his feet. And as a result, he becomes obsessed with her, pledges himself to her, and serves from afar in her name for like. 13 years. Then they finally meet again and it turns out she's kind of a bitch! (In the best way.)

Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway, of course, has Cull, who watches Pippa while she's out doing her vigilante shit and is like, ready to run interference and who knows maybe smell her hair.

Duke of Midnight by Elizabeth Hoyt of course has the truly insane and stalkery Maximus. Like Valentine, he refuses to call his heroine by her actual name lmao.

The Wolf and The Widlflower by Stacy Reid. Wolf Duke Duke of Wolverton is obviously a duke who lived with wolves for years, and after he realizes that his new shrink, a young man, is actually a woman in disguise (a fact he realizes when he SMELLS. HER. WOMANLY. SCENT. IYKWIM.) he's determined to catch her out lol.

Hotel of Secrets by Diana Biller has a hero who's admittedly a literal spy, but he does start lowkey stalking the heroine because he feels CRIME MAY BE AFOOT. And then he walks in on her... doing things alone.... and he goes "don't stop" and I lost my mind.

Again the Magic by Lisa Kleypas gives me this vibe because McKenna is so focused on revenge against Aline that it basically turns into this obsession with everything about her and what it takes to break her down. Like, McKenna gives strong murder vibes and I do find it hot.

The Dragon and The Pearl by Jeannie Lin gives me this vibe because he's like... keeping her captive for political reasons but you can literally see on the page when it starts to shift from politics to obsession lol.

Contemporary-ish:

Mafia Madman by Mila Finelli. I mean, Enzo watches Gia through security cameras while keeping her in a cage after setting up a faked death by bombing a bar after he buys in an Aperol spritz. Peak stalking.

Mafia Target--the book after Mafia Madman, m/m assassin/target... Alessio is literally stalking Giulio for months before they actually meet and he's obsessed with him and it's AMAZING.

All of Kresley Cole's Gamemaker books involve stalking but The Player is maybe the most intensely stalkery book of all time. I can't even tell you how. That would give it away. Trust and believe. This is a STALKER.

Sierra Simone writes some very possessive heroes. Mark from her Lyonesse series, though (starting with Salt in the Wound) gives strong stalker vibes. Partly because he clearly knows way more about Tristan and Isolde than either of them realize and has known it for a while lol. Also, he literally skulks around ruining people's lives, so. That's just WHO HE IS. And I do love it.

Paranormal:

Just shouting out the fact that every single IAD hero is a stalker, but special notes for Lothaire of Lothaire (on EVERY LEVEL, follows Ellie around for years before the book even begins, turns invisible to follow her around in his apartment, watches her from the shadows, has to carry her lingerie around in his pocket so he can deeply inhale it to cope); Cade from Dark Desires after Dusk (followed Holly around for years before the book began... again lmao); Trehan from Shadow's Claim (the MISTS!!!!).

Dragon Bound by Thea Harrison has a heroine who steals a penny from a dragon shifter's lair, and he literally hunts her down like a dog lmao.

[bookaddict24-7]

REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

EVERY WEEK I WILL POST VARIOUS REVIEWS I’VE WRITTEN SO FAR IN 2024. YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY GOODREADS FOR MORE UP-TO-DATE REVIEWS HERE.

___

119. Delinquent Daddy & Tender Teacher, Vol. 2 by Tama Mizuki--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The way this series has a chokehold on me. The adorable little kid? The heartwarming relationship between the characters? The slowly increasing seriousness of their relationship? Please, this is both the cutest and sweetest series.

This was also surprisingly...spicy? I was not expecting that LOL.

I also thought the way Mizuki marked the passing of time by seasons was really smart and well-done. It also helped set the pace of the relationship between the two MCs.

I can't believe we only have three volumes out physically in North America 🙃

___

120. Delinquent Daddy & Tender Teacher, Vol. 3 by Tama Mizuki--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Omg I love seeing the jealousy in this one because it helps bring to light some of the insecurities so the main couple can have solid communication about it all. I love these two because even though they get frustrated or hurt, they always manage to talk things out. I also loved the introduction of another set of characters and a new situation that proves to both be challenging for the little one, but also a chance to further showcase how much these characters care for each other.

I do like that one of them, despite his fears, was able to set his boundaries so well. I think that was pretty well done, as opposed to a few other storylines I've seen where everything happens so quickly and it's like boundaries don't even exist or matter.

I honestly need more. I want to devour everything this author brings us with this series.

___

121. Murder Road by Simone St. James--⭐️⭐️⭐️

While Simone St. James is definitely an auto-read for me (I still haven't read her older stuff, but don't judge me too much, please), sometimes her books can really be a hit or miss.

MURDER ROAD is a story that kind of sits in the middle for me. It was...okay? And I kind of wanted it to end by the time I reached around the 70% mark. The mystery itself was intriguing and I loved that twist of this being set in the 90s (those comments about Princess Diana and Kurt Cobain threw me the hell off and I kept thinking "Who's gonna tell her?"). The twists were good and so were each of the reveals.

The thing is that something about this book just...felt off to me. I think it was just very slowly paced. The story starts off strong and metaphorically punches the reader, but then it just kind of...enters this moment in the story where it's both frustrating and drags on a bit.

I'd still recommend this to thriller fans, since I can definitely see this grabbing a thriller addict's attention, but I do wish the book had kept that same energy of the beginning all the way through the book.

___

122. Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I think DEEP WIZARDRY was better than the first book. While it still had some of the confusing magical math that the first book had, it wasn't as dense. We still got to see a lot of the magic at play, especially when the kids find themselves in a dangerous ocean.

This book also gave me heavy A WRINKLE IN TIME vibes. I think if this book was on today's book cases, it would be a pretty strong seller. It has the friendship goals of two young magicians, skeptical parents, and the wild adventures that kids are somehow surviving when we know in real life, adults wouldn't survive.

This also did have some creepy moments, especially when we meet some of the characters.

Okay, will be attacking book three soon!

___

123. Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I spoiled myself for who Sookie ends up with and while I was disappointed, I HAVE enjoyed seeing her navigate her relationships. DEAD RECKONING doesn't disappoint as we learn some truths about Sookie's relationship and the heartbreaking reality of her situation.

One of my favourite things about this series, now that I'm one step closer to finishing, is how much Sookie has grown as a character. Thinking of how she was in book one in comparison to her now is wild. Her naive nature has changed and she is much more aware of her humanity and fragility. She is also more aware of the people around her and how her actions affect those she loves.

This instalment also tackles a situation that has been brewing for several books and it had a very, very satisfying conclusion. I'm also now very curious about what's happening with a few certain people in Sookie's life.

I'm excited to get to the next book because I'm so, so close to the end!

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124. Stay Out of the Basement by R.L. Stine--⭐️⭐️⭐️

STAY OUT OF THE BASEMENT was entertaining for what it was--especially since the concept of plants becoming self-aware and actively trying to get humans is a creepy topic. The story itself was entertaining and less frustrating than other GOOSEBUMPS titles.

There is some language in this that are very reminiscent of the 90's blasé way of speaking. Calling a kid "Fatso" because she's skinny, and having that girl make her younger brother by one year sandwiches every time he was hungry were a couple of the things that threw me off. I don't even know how many times I asked myself "Doesn't this kid know how to make himself a peanut butter sandwich? She's eleven and he's ten..."

Anyway, another classic GOOSEBUMPS bites the dust.

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Have you read any of these books? What were your thoughts?

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Happy reading!

[hulk-vs-superman]

A Couple of Very Strong Superheroes

Out of all the possible superpowers, for some reason, strength rates the highest among comic-book lovers. There’s something primal and surreal about great strength; perhaps it has some relationship to the animals we admire in the world.

There’s the gorilla; which is stronger than seven men. The African lion, which combines fearlessness with mind-boggling strength and power in taking down 4,000 pound giraffes and 1,500 pound cape buffalo.

Our admiration and awe for muscle-work translates easily into the comic book universe; where supreme beings such as DC’s Superman and Marvel’s Hulk are adored by millions of fans. Great strength is an attribute shared – to various degrees – by almost every superhero; because not much can get done if you cannot knock a super-strong enemy through a plate-glass window. With that said, what follows are two of the strongest heroes out there:

1.Wonder Woman – Princess of Themyscira

Also known as Princess Diana, Wonder Woman is basically a female Superman clone in female undergarments. Extremely strong, she is an Amazonian warrior that resides on a sexist island called Themyscira, where only females roam. Although accounts of her great strength vary even among official documents, she’s generally depicted as having about 75% of Superman’s baseline strength at her maximum.

This means she can knock plenty of super-dudes through structures of almost any hardness. Fierce and unyielding, she embodies an indomitable warrior spirit. Her Lasso of Truth is an unbreakable rope that compels anyone it binds to answer truthfully whatever questions Wonder Woman poses.

Wonder Woman is strong enough to form a part of the Trinity – a collection of DC’s most important heroes. Superman and the combative genius Batman form the other two members.

2.Wonder Man

A rather unconventional super-being, in that he started out as actor Simon Williams, became a hero by saving the Avengers, and switched to a villain because he felt the Avengers had done more harm than good. He is a being of pure ionic energy, and has sustained strikes from the likes of the adamantium-imbued Wolverine without his invulnerable chassis rendering a scratch.

He is really quite powerful and may actually be the strongest of the Avengers – unless Hulk makes an appearance. Even so, Simon Williams has shown to be a match for the Green Scar. With Class 100 strength, he ranks right up there with the very strongest metahumans in both Marvel and DC.

As for the Standard, himself (DC Comics’ Superman), a comparison shows that Wonder Man is extremely strong and resilient, and could probably go toe-to-toe with a restrained Clark for a little while. I just don’t see him being able to withstand Doomsday – which means that Superman would, in short order, get the best of Simon Williams.

[random-movie-ideas]

DC Cinematic Universe, Phase One Plan

Doing some research ahead of where I'm at with the villain blogs, here is my expected plan for Phase One of this theoretical cinematic universe:

THE FLASH - During a freak lightning storm, police scientist Barry Allen and his girlfriend's little brother Wally both end up developing super speed. As a result, a local gang breaks into a research lab and steals a number of high-tech weapons to be able to fight back.

Starring: Barry Allen/Flash, Wally West/Kid Flash, Iris West, Joe West, Ralph Dibny, Sue Dibny, Len Snart/Captain Cold, Digger Harkness/Captain Boomerang, Mick Rory/Heat Wave, Mark Mardon/Weather Wizard, James Jesse/Trickster, Hartley Rathaway/Pied Piper.

MARTIAN MANHUNTER - A Martian warrior finds himself stranded on Earth after being teleported there by an old scientist. Now hunted by intergalactic "peacekeepers" called the Manhunters, the Martian befriends a former marine named John Stewart, who helps him find his way home again.

Starring: J'onn J'onzz/Martian Manhunter, John Stewart, Katma Tui, Scar, the Manhunters, Dr. Simon Erdel, likely some government people like Amanda Waller.

GREEN LANTERN - A team of Green Lanterns chase the war criminal Atrocitus to Earth after he perfects a red ring to fight back against them. When one Lantern is killed, his ring ends up in the hands of Hal Jordan, who must now be trained in its use to save his world and the entire galaxy. But the more he learns, the more he discovers about the Lantern leader's hand in Atrocitus's origin.

Starring: Hal Jordan/Green Lantern, Thaal Sinestro, Arisia, Ch'p, Salaak, Kilowog, Atrocitus/Red Lantern, Dex-Starr, Abin Sur, Carol Ferris, Thomas Kalmaku, Hector Hammond, likely some other supporting Lanterns.

WONDER WOMAN - While pursuing the dangerous terrorist Baroness Paula von Gunther, military operative Steve Trevor and his team stumble upon a lost island in the Mediterranean. The island's princess, Diana, works with them to stop the Baroness from endangering the island and the entire world.

Starring: Diana/Wonder Woman, Steve Trevor, Etta Candy, Barbara Ann Minerva, Baroness Paula von Gunther, Doctor Poison, Queen Hippolyta, Donna Troy, Nubia, and many other Amazons.

AQUALAD - Jackson Hyde is the son of underwater treasure hunter David Hyde AKA the Black Manta, scouring the world for the lost Trident of the Dead King, a weapon used to sink Atlantis. When Jackson meets an Atlantean named Garth, he learns there is some truth to his father's tales and must work together with Garth to stop him from getting his hands on it.

Starring: Jackson Hyde/Aqualad, Garth/Tempest, David Hyde/Black Manta, Black Jack, Eel, Charybdis, Scylla, Scavenger, Cal Durham, Atlan/Dead King.

GREEN ARROW - Rogue vigilante Oliver Queen finds himself captured by the government and forced into Amanda Waller's Suicide Squad, including such members as Dinah Lance, Roy Harper, and Slade Wilson. They are sent after foreign noble Count Vertigo, who poses a threat to the United States. After the job is done, Oliver betrays Waller and puts his life on the line to get himself, Dinah, and Roy out of the squad.

Starring: Oliver Queen/Green Arrow, Dinah Lance/Black Canary, Roy Harper/Speedy, Amanda Waller, Slade Wilson/Deathstroke, Count Vertigo, likely other members of the Suicide Squad.

JUSTICE LEAGUE - Earth finds itself attacked by a race of aliens called Kryptonians, endowed with powers beyond any human. Bruce Wayne (who has been acting as a Nick Fury figure throughout the previous movies) brings together Princess Diana, J'onn J'onzz, Barry Allen, and Hal Jordan to help fight against them. Arthur Curry also joins, having been caught up in the initial attack alongside Diana as they both fought the villainous Atlantean, Queen Clea. Oliver Queen receives an invitation as well, but turns it down before ultimately helping in the end. Other characters like John Stewart also pitch in, resulting in John receiving a Green Lantern ring in the end. As the battle rages, Bruce investigates a twenty+ year old report of a Kryptonian ship crash-landing in Kansas, leading him to Clark Kent.

Starring: Clark Kent/Superman, Bruce Wayne/Batman, Princess Diana/Wonder Woman, Hal Jordan/Green Lantern, Barry Allen/Flash, Arthur Curry/Aquaman, J'onn J'onzz/Martian Manhunter, General Zod, Faora-Ul, Ursa, Non, Jax-Ur, Oliver Queen/Green Arrow, John Stewart, Lois Lane, Martha Kent, Jonathan Kent, various other supporting cast, and Queen Clea.

TEEN TITANS - After witnessing an alien girl taken captive, Bruce Wayne's former protegee Dick Grayson begins investigating HIVE, a special "academy" where superpowered teens are taken by the government and trained to work for them. Wally West, Jackson Hyde, and Roy Harper likewise start investigating for similar reasons. Among the students they rescue are the alien girl Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Raven.

Starring: Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Roy Harper/Speedy, Wally West/Kid Flash, Jackson Harper/Aqualad, Koriandr/Starfire, Victor Stone/Cyborg, Garfield Logan/Beast Boy, Rachel Roth/Raven, Slade Wilson/Deathstroke, Amanda Waller, HIVE staff.

And that's it. The ordering of the first six can be subject to change, but the two big crossovers remain the same. What do you think? Would you watch this as a series?

[jemeryas]

Jacquemus Makes a Comeback with "Les Sculptures"

Following the recent Jacquemus show “Le ChouChou” that was partly inspired by French nobility and partly Princess Diana, the latter could only be seen in a chunky necklace that is reminiscent to the one Diana would wear in her iconic 1994 “Revenge Dress,” I was left feeling a little hollow by the popular French designer. If you are going to honor a fashion icon like Princess Diana, I would much rather you commit to the bit than try and incorporate dead royalty that nobody particularly cared for; which I feel the need to add that the "let them eat cake" is historically inaccurate and one of the reasons why that show feels shallow. In comparison to Simon's previous shows such as “Le coupe de Soleil” that was set in a field of lilacs and featured a purple carpet for the models to walk down as well as Le Splash, which made me grow more in appreciation for Simon. I was let down tremendously from the Le ChouChou show and didn't know what to expect. However, the moment Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing’ started up and I saw Gigi walk down in a creme trench coat baby I was hooked. I was confused as to what Simon knew about Marvin Gaye but that music knowledge worked in his favor and I can say that I was not disappointed.

Cohesive coloring. That’s what comes to mind as I get deeper into the show. One of my favorite things about Jacquemus is that he lets your burgundy’s stay with your burgundy’s and your blues with the blues. There is no real attempt in crossing or meshing colors that do not need to be meshed often done by other designers, in a horrendous, god-awful way that leaves you laughing to the point of tears, much like Naomi Campbell in the 2013 show, "The Face", if you will allow me to be funny. However, that is not the case here with Simon and his team of stylist, who due to their clear eye and God-given talents, can have a small array of colors come down the runway in a beautiful mirage of reds, cremes, beiges, grays, Blacks and whites. The pieces molded and shaped by the designer to resemble, in my interpretation of course, the sculptures that can come from clothes is both unique and charming. The models, exemplifying both traits, gives me everything that I need and more. The inclusion of the divine feminine and masculine in shows is something that I love to see and particularly with Simon, he is one of the very few designers who captures both essences. A masculine Asian model comes down gripping a shoulder bag styled with a white evening shirt and Black dress pants sends me into orbit with the amount of swag that he has,. The clothes not so much, but the model wears them in a smooth Argylle manner. The real show stopper however, comes in the form of a dark-skinned feminine model, covered by a white veil and dressed in a silk gown that flowed so beautifully around her. She exuded so much elegance and beauty while showing no face is just a level of couth that only Simon and his casters could have. The epitome of "No face, no case." The model and piece making such an impression with Simon that he probably felt no choice but to allow her to close the show. Solidifying and being the sole reason Jacquemus and his team to receive their tens from me and live to see another season. Mwah, no bars💋.

If I can give a note though, the title ‘Les Sculptures’ seems to be an ode to making art out of fashion, showcasing garments as sculptures. My thought is and will always be, like with many other designers and shows that attempt a similar feat, why do you not cast more full-sized models to be apart of these shows Simon? Pictured below is one model, but if tailoring on certain garments is suppose to emulate or accentuate the human frame, it would only make sense to have the inclusion of more full-sized models to help enhance that sculpturesque theme. Especially as popular as Jacquemus is among celebrity circles and mainstream media. Most notably be named dropped in Amine and Kaytranada's song “4eva” where Amine raps,

“I see you gettin' wetter through your Jacquemus jeans. My forevеr is forever, can't let nothin' comе between.”

I blushed too don't worry, but I don’t think all your high-profile clients are petite sized or like their women petite sized, so I believe that if you’re going to do a theme or nod to this then you should, again, commit to that bit.

Overall, after the horribly misunderstood show that was Le ChouChou; Simon you made up for it greatly with ‘Les Sculptures’. From the tailoring to the perfect flow of colors and models; I am telling you right now, that closing model is not real and definitely something to try and beat. Jacquemus, you may have just made the ultimate comeback in my eyes. I look forward to what you bring next.

[bethaven]

#16 Bridgerton

Plot: It's social season for London's high society and each year another one of Lady Bridgerton's eight children needs to be whisked away for marriage and - hopefully - love. Narrated by the ton's own Gossip Girl, the secretive Lady Whistledown, the society's families explores the ups and downs of the season.

Years: 2020-

Seasons: 2, and counting, season three landing on Netflix May 16th.

My story: Since my platonic wife had already dragged me into Miss Fisher, she thought she might aswell drag me into Bridgerton aswell. Well, we didn't get a fake marriage for nothing, she knows me very well and of course I loved this so much. It's a costume drama, full of colorful characters, love, friendship and regent versions of modern popsongs. It's just amazing!

Teachable moments: Bridgerton shows us a more diverse picture of the regency era than we've seen in other similar media. It shows independent women, queer love and other representation. I've learned that history might not be as simple as the history books taught us. With this said, Bridgerton's NOT a history lesson, but fiction.

Best character: Eloise is the rebelious and fierce fifth child in the Bridgerton family. She questions evrything and reminds me a lot of myself in the same age. She dares to go past the tracks and choose her own path in life and love.

Best episode: "Swish" (S1E6). The newlywed Daphne does an interesting journey in this epsiode and shows us the importance of good sex ed.

Best quote: "It is you I cannot sacrifice. I burn…for you." (Daphne to Simon).

Fun fact: Inspiration for the Bridgerton house came from Princess Diana's family home.

If you like this you might also like: In Queen Charlotte - a Bridgerton story we get the prequel to the other Bridgerton seasons. All we know before is that the king is a bit distant and ill, but why and how? And how did the love story between Queen Charlotte and her king start? Others you might like are Pride and prejudice, Downton Abbey, Gossip Girl, Queen's Gambit and Young Royals.

(Bridgerton is based on Julia Quinn's books, 8 of them, one for each of the Bridgerton siblings)

[aaxolotgilyrlyaybisuvl]

Triggers/ foreword: loud, most ethnic, language, partial nudity, Video lyrics

N-dubz {papa, wouldn’t you, better not waste my time}, Ayumi Hamasaki {real me, surreal, appears, fairyland, bluebird, ourselves, microphone, november, [moon returns], sending meil, like a doll, lelio, rainbow, rule, my name’s women, is this love? Song 4 u, ladies’ night, about you, nextlevel, dearest, game, mirrorcle world, heaven, inspire, do it again, I dreamed a dream, step you, bold & delicious, unite 

Samurai Champloo shiki no uta, Origa rise, inner universe [(fatty bean)], Goldie inner city life, M-flo play it again, After School first love, Koda Kumi run, candy

Seyi Shey irawo, murda, Psquare, Flavour, Nato C, Wizkid, Justine Skye, Leona Lewis summertime, collide, I see you, Beyonce green light, formation, signs, pretty hurts, sweet dreams, single ladies, get me bodied, 7-11, ring the alarm, halo, flaws, countdown, run the world, if I were a boy, haunted, Yonce, upgrade U, diva, Lil Mix wings,The Saturdays all fired up, hero, Brooke Candy FMU, nymph, paper or plastic, happy days, rubber band stacks, study in duality

Dorian Electra egdelord, f the world, Azealia Banks chasing time, 212, Anna Wintour, big big beat, harlem shake, atm jam, miss camaraderie, fierce, atlantis, 

miss amour, count contessa, no problems, heavy metal & reflective, running, 1991, Kerli army of love, diamond hard, walking on air, feral hearts, Allie X prime, bitch, simon says, catch my breath, old habits die hard, it’s not so bad in LA, Miss A breathe,

hush hush, AoA bing bing, good luck, 4Minute crazy, CL the baddest female, Jessi gucci, nunu nana, Hyuna how’s that, bubble pop, nabillera, Gfriend fingertip, Kara step it up,//

mama mia, lion heart, Hitomi Shimatani perseus, garnet moon, papillon, Boards of Canada roygbiv, Bjork it’s in our hands, it’s oh so quiet, 

pagan poetry, where is the line, cocoon, oceania, play dead, army of me, big time sensuality, I miss you, possibly maybe, isobel, human behaviour

Mondo Grosso labyrinth, CL lifted, 2NE1 I hate you, I love you, come back home, I am the best, fire, can’t nobody, gotta be you, AoA like a cat

Hilary Duff coming clean, with love, fly, sparks, Dua Lipa we’re good, Sugarcubes birthday, Destiny’s Child survivor, lose my breath, soldier, Lily Allen smile, the fear, The Ting tings that’s not my name

The Yeah Yeahs heads will roll, The Veronicas hook me up, popular, lolita, take me on the floor, this love, Escape the sound let’s go, Lorn anvil, acid rain

Elliphant love you better, still getting younger, spoon me, (ft. MO )one more, “ lean on, kamikaze, Grimes genesis, idoru, world princess, butterfly, california, 

delete forever, scream, Mia hungrigez hertz, MIA hombre, XR2, world town, jimmy, 10 dollar, 20 dollar, Wynter Gordon (ft. FloRida )sugar, stimela, levitate, believer, Diana “ woman, thank you /

Men Without Hats safety dance, Sade soldier of love, paradise, cherish the day, moon & stars, The Third Realm dance like you wanna die, kiss of the scorpion, invitation to hell, 

forever, IAMX stardust, Sirius neon dominion, Ludovico technique dead inside, absence, deeper into you, potential, heal my scars, beyond therapy, wasting, Shiv-r devil’s night, alpha omega, Psychlon 9 parasitic, as you sleep, 

Vanessa Hudgens sneakernight, baby come back, Lionbabe fire, Jetta electrify, ABRA fruit, Kilo Kish, The Internet girl, Doja Cat streets, Vegas, beautiful, nunchucks,  Lola Munroe overtime, Exodus 23, you a jerk, Allie & AJ potential breakup song, like whoa, rush, 

Ghost little sunshine, cirice, square hammer, he is, Lana Del Rey doin time, kill kill, venice bitch, chemtrails over the country club, hit & run, video game, black beauty, high by the beach, diet mountain dew, yayo, swan song, say yes to heaven, Marina & the Diamonds immortal, teen idle, the outsider, 

fear & loathing, valley of the dolls, I’m not a robot, mowgli’s trail, handmade heaven, blue, solitaire, family jewels, hermit the frog, superstar, Mo Cheddah ko ma roll, Solange tony, losing you, cranes in the sky, 

Tinashe aquarius, bet on it, cold sweat, cold sweat, bated breath, party favours, Beach Boys good vibrations, The Pretty Reckless you, miss nothing, medicine, Kalafina magia, 

Birthday Massacre superstition, goodnight, blue, looking glass, Ayria gun song, Okilly Dokilly white wine spritzer, New Years’ Day gangsta [(Kehlani cover)], Nightclub show it to me, your addiction, Nuages dreams, Gunship dark all day, 

Nicki Minaj your love, chun-li, barbie tings, pills & potions, superbass, right thru me, Madonna jump, (ft. MIA & Nicki Minaj )give me all your luvin’, la isla bonita, Charli XCX boom clap, you (ha ha ha), 

party 4 u, 1999, (ft. Iggy Azalea )fancy, Zheani lulu, lava, Rina Sawayama xs, comme des garcons, Bassnectar future, dota, The Noisettes love power, that girl, cheap thrills, Shingai coming home