#gentleman in jeopardy

[chukys-mouthguard]

A Shot at Love: Your Journey Ends Here

This week on ‘A Shot at Love’, the boys face new challenges from our bachelorette. Their bodies put to the test during exciting dates that leave one man packing his bags early.

As connections grow stronger, the decisions only get harder.

Who will stay, and who will have to leave the mansion? Find out tonight on ‘A Shot at Love!’

Remember to cast your vote for who should earn a rose, voting is only open for 24 hours!

4.8k words

The men gathered outside, yet another rose ceremony about to begin. Biz and Whit offering Pink Whitney shots to calm the nerves, you truly didn’t understand how they hadn’t gone through their entire supply yet.

“Gentleman, tonight two of you will unfortunately be leaving the mansion and your time here will come to an end.”

Taking your place at the front of the group you smiled at the group, then sending smiles to Auston and Luke who had already received their roses from their dates earlier in the night.

“I know I say this every week, but this is only going to get harder. And I’m having to make some really difficult decisions, having to say goodbye to some amazing guys. So please, just know this is never easy on me to stand up here. And I appreciate all of you being part of this journey.”

Taking a deep breath you picked up the first rose, ready to make your decisions.

“Matt Rempe…Quinn…Nico…John…Jamie.”

Three men stood in front of you, but only one rose remained. As you looked from Trevor, to Cole, to Mat Barzal, you knew there was only one choice for you.

“Mat, will you accept this rose?”

He let out a sigh of relief before walking towards you, a smile on his face as he stood proud knowing he’d gotten the chance to stay another week.

“I will always say yes to a rose from you.”

With a hug he was off to join the others, Cole and Trevor both smiling to one another as they waited to say their goodbyes.

“I’m so sorry, I wish you two nothing but the best.”

Giving them each a hug you could sense they weren’t too devastated, mentioning that if they were going to go out, at least they did it together. The guys chirped at the two boys as they headed to gather their things, saying they’d secretly gotten what they wanted leaving together. But you didn’t pay much attention, knowing that you were happy with your decision.

Per usual, the group ended the night with a toast, followed by a Pink Whitney shot. The guys heading inside while Biz and Whit stuck around to pick your brain.

“So, how are things going? Anyone in particular standing out to you right now?”

You walked with them along the cobblestone path leading to their staircase. “I mean, yes and no. I feel like I have so many connections forming, and they are all so different. But, there are a few guys in jeopardy if I don’t start feeling some sort of spark from them.”

“Oh shit, who would that be?”

“Come on boys, a woman never kisses and tells.”

Bidding them farewell you headed up the stairs, knowing you’d need the rest for the jam packed day of dates that would await you tomorrow.

-

“Date card boys!”

Auston shouted to the group as he entered from the hall, holding the pink date card envelope proudly in the air. Taking a peek himself before reading it aloud.

“Jamie, Mat Barzal…will you catch me if I fall?”

The group looked to one another a bit shocked to hear that it would be a double date. Jamie and Mat gave each other a fist bump as they headed off to get ready. The rest of the group curious as to how the dates would play out now that a double date was awarded.

“So, six of us left, you think she is going to do one group date for the rest of us?”

Auston questioned as he took a seat next to Matt Rempe, the guys shrugging as they picked each other's brains.

“There’s got to be at least one solo date right? Then five guys for the group date?”

Nico gave his two cents as the guys continued to hypothesize as to what your plans were, though they’d not know what you had planned until the date cards arrived.

-

“Hey boys!”

You waved to Jamie and Mat as they headed your way, glancing around trying to figure out where they were and why. Taking in the beautiful scenery surrounding the historic Bridge to Nowhere.

Both men gave you a hug as they waited for an explanation of what this date would entail.

“So, today we are going to be testing your ability to talk me off the ledge, or rather over it. Today we are bungee jumping off of the historic Bridge to Nowhere.”

Both men gave you a shocked look as they laughed, clearly not expecting this to be the activity they were participating in when they woke up this morning. Although Mat clearly would take anything over the food date you’d put him through the night before.

“Holy shit, um okay.”

“Nervous Jamie?”

He looked at you laughing, the look on his face telling you that he was nervous, though he tried to put on a brave face. Mat on the other hand kept his cocky demeanor as he didn’t even bat an eye at the plan.

“I’ll be good, don’t worry about me.”

Jamie reassured you that he was okay, though as you took his hand you could feel how shaky they were. Mat’s grip on your other hand was strong as he was smiling from ear to ear, his adrenaline already pumping as he was eager to get the jumping started.

“So, I wanted to bring you both on this date because I felt as though I haven’t gotten much time with each of you. I wanted to put you to the test and see how well you would do at calming my nerves and helping me be able to bungee jump today.”

The men smiled as each of you were getting hooked up with your harnesses, the workers explaining how the jumping process would work. The further along they got into the process the more nervous you’d become. Your hands shaky as they guided you all to the jumping platform.

“So, who is going first?”

The worker looked at the three of you, your hands sweaty as you could feel your heart racing. Biting your lip as you took a step back, feeling yourself getting too scared to go closer to the edge.

“I don’t know if I can do it, I’m getting so nervous.”

“Then I’ll go first.”

Jamie bravely stepped forward, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“I can see you are getting scared about going, so I’ll go first. I’ll show you that there’s nothing to worry about. It’s perfectly safe, okay?”

You appreciated how Jamie had taken notice of your nerves, wanting to help however he could to ease them and make you feel more comfortable with jumping.

He moved into position as the workers got everything in place, giving him a countdown before he’d jumped from the ledge. You and Mat move to look over the side of the bridge, watching as Jamie’s playful shouts echoed below.

“Don’t fall!”

Mat grabbed your shoulders, quickly jolting you forward and back and you gasped, a slight scream coming from your lips as you clutched your chest. Taking a step back from the cliff you shot Mat a glare.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Mat scoffed as you questioned him, a slight laugh escaping his lips as he took a step towards you. Instinctively you took a step back, making sure to move away from the edge as now you didn’t trust Mat and his joking antics.

“Oh come on, it’s called a joke. You weren’t gonna fall.”

He reached out to try and give you a hug to get you to relax but you pushed him away.

“Okay now you’re the one with the problem! Can’t take a joke? God, sorry for trying to get you to loosen up.”

“Loosen up? You just jokingly acted like you were going to push me over the edge after seeing how scared I was.”

Jamie had come back up to join you and Mat, catching the end of you yelling at him. He quickly rushed to your side, trying to decipher what you two were upset about and calm you down.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I’m done, I'm not jumping anymore. He ruined this whole date with his ‘jokes’. I’m done.”

Jamie looked from Mat to you, confused on what he’d missed. Mat telling him that you were overreacting to a simple joke, Jamie not buying it by your reaction.

He quickly ran to catch up to you, taking your hands in his as he stopped in front of you.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

His thumb brushed over your cheek to wipe a few tears that had fallen, a look of concern in his eyes as you took a deep breath trying to collect yourself.

“Mat thought he was being funny by pretending to shove me towards the edge. He said I couldn’t take a joke, but you both saw how scared I was to even come here. The whole point was to see if you guys could calm my nerves and help me feel comfortable making the jump. And now I don’t even want to do this anymore.”

Jamie wrapped you in a hug as he tried to find the words to say, shocked that Mat would have thought the joke was funny after seeing how nervous you were. Clearly not understanding the point behind the date.

“Hey, it’s okay. Look at me.”

Jamie took your face in his hands as he smiled, “It’s gonna be okay. If you don’t wanna jump, then we can leave now and go back to the house. But, I don’t want you to regret not facing your fears today. I wanna see you make this jump, and I will be right there by your side to keep you calm until you decide to jump. You can do this, I did it and look at me. Still standing here pretty in front of you!”

You chuckled at Jamie’s words as he wrapped you in a hug. He’d helped ease your nerves and made you feel comfortable going forward with jumping after all. Taking his hand in yours, the two of you headed back towards the bridge. The instructors getting you hooked back up and ready to go.

“Okay, y/n, you got this. Just breathe, and know that I’m gonna be right here cheering you on. And afterwards you’ll come back up and I’ll be here, ready to hear how amazing it was. Okay?”

Nodding your head you gave Jamie a smile before getting in position, the instructors giving you some last minute reminders before they counted you down. The second you left the platform you felt your stomach sink to your feet, your eyes looking around to take in the view of the jump. A smile on your face as you screamed out of excitement, so happy that Jamie had calmed you down and convinced you to make the jump despite Mat’s joking.

As you’d finally come down, the workers getting you out of your harness and guiding you back up to the top of the bridge, you saw Jamie waiting for you with the biggest smile on his face.

“I told you that you could do it! I’m so proud of you!”

He wrapped you in a hug, spinning you around as he kissed your cheek. Smiling from ear to ear, you thanked him for helping you even get to that point. For believing in you and helping keep you calm enough to go through with it.

“If you want to go ahead, I’m gonna talk to Mat really quick.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Jamie headed off where they’d set up some lunch for you all in the nearby pavilion, giving you space to talk with Mat.

“You see, I told you that you could do it.”

His tone was a bit cocky as he smirked at you, clearly not realizing that he was in the wrong for his jokes.

“Mat, look. I understand if that joking was your personality, or you thought it would be helpful. But I was nervous, scared even. And believe it or not, pretending to push someone over the edge isn’t necessarily helpful.”

He nodded his head as he was yet to say anything further, letting you speak your mind as you knew in your heart what you needed to do.

“I’m sorry but, I just don’t think that there is really a connection forming here. This date was to test whether or not you’d be able to be there for me when I needed you. And unfortunately, you opted to tease me and joke around in a time that didn’t call for it. So for that, I am going to ask you to leave the competition, your shot at love has come to an end.”

Despite the little to no reaction, you knew that it was definitely a shot to his ego. Biting his cheek as he shook his head, giving you a half hearted hug before he said goodbye. Though it hurt to eliminate someone outside of a rose ceremony, you knew in your heart things weren’t moving in the right direction, and if you were going to find love you needed to be sure the men that stayed in the house were the right ones.

Turning on your heels, you jogged off towards the pavilion so as to not keep Jamie waiting. Excited for the opportunity at some more time with him after he’d pleasantly surprised you during your slight freak out earlier.

-

The boys were gathered in the living room as they awaited the next date card, Jamie soon returning from his date. A bit of shock on the faces of the group as they saw just one guy returning from the double date.

“Where’s Barzy?”

Jamie sighed as he took a seat on the couch, running a hand through his hair with a halfhearted smile.

“She sent him home. There was a little argument on the date. But in the end she made the decision that there wasn’t much of a connection and she doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time if she doesn’t feel that spark this far along.”

The guys sat in silence, shocked to know you’d made such a decision, though they all respected your desire to only keep the guys you had true connections with.

“Well, to lighten the mood gentleman, how about a date card?”

Whit appeared from the hall with the pink envelope, Nico offering to read it aloud to the boys.

“Oo, solo date boys.”

Nico smirked before continuing with the message, getting the group nervous as they wondered who would get the invitation.

“Matt Rempe, hope you’ve been practicing your poses.”

The reaction was a mixed as the group applauded Matt, happy that he’d gotten the opportunity for some one on one time as he’d been one of the quieter guys in the house.

-

“Oh good morning sunshine!”

You waved to Matt with a smile as he slowly made his way towards you. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt as you’d told him to dress comfortably, you couldn’t help but question how this man was so tall. Even after seeing him for several weeks now, you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it.

“How are you? Good to see you.”

His voice was a bit raspy as he’d surely just woken up, the call time for your date being right around sunrise. His arms wrapped around you in a hug before he awaited the reveal of today’s date.

“So, I’m sure the date card left you a little confused. Especially now with me waking you up so early. But, I figured with the stress of this whole process we could treat ourselves to some yoga on the beach!”

Matt chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair, the idea of him doing any yoga poses immediately making him nervous.

“You do know I’m a giant right? Are you sure this date card wasn’t meant for someone else?”

You laughed as you took his hand in yours, leading the way towards the beach. “Definitely not, this date is all yours Matt Rempe!”

The two of you made the trek out onto the beach, yoga mats already laid out with your instructor patiently waiting for you. Matt flashed you a smirk, shaking his head as he took a seat. Following suit you took your place, the instructor starting you two off with some breathing exercises.

Before you knew Matt was more relaxed, not feeling uncomfortable about the situation as he was surprising you with his eagerness to attempt the yoga positions that were being thrown at you.

“Okay, seems like you two have nailed the individual poses, how about we try some couples poses?”

Matt looked at you with a grin, “I’m down if you are.” Taking his hand he pulled you over to his yoga mat, the instructor guiding you two into a partner tree pose.

“Oh god, I’m apologizing now if I smell. It’s so hot out here I’m sweating like crazy.”

You laughed as Matt blushed, trying his best to not get his sweaty frame anywhere near your face. The sun beating down on the two of you had you both dripping sweat. The pose itself looking awkward considering he was so much taller than you.

“Yeah I didn’t consider this might turn into hot yoga out here in the sun.”

You squinted your eyes looking up at him, a slight chuckle coming from him as he turned his attention back to the instructor. Finally leading you two into one last pose to finish off the session.

Double downward dog was proving to be the most challenging for the two of you as you weren’t able to place your feet onto Matt’s lower back. Again mostly because he was a giant compared to you, but still you tried. The instructor offered as much help as they could, while Matt thoroughly enjoyed your struggle. His laugh caused his body to shake and only make your portion of the pose that much harder to achieve.

“Matt Rempe, knock it off!”

You scolded him playfully as he continued to laugh, eventually noticing that you wouldn’t be able to get into position, opting to roll his hips side to side, causing you to fall off his back and plop down into the sand.

“You did not just do that.”

He rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand as he laughed at you.

“What are you doing laying in the sand silly goose?”

Shooting him a playful glare you threw a small handful of sand at him, then standing up to clean up your portion of the beach that you’d reserved for your yoga session. Matt helped with his yoga mat as the two of you headed to a spot nearby. Set up with umbrellas for some shade, and a cooler with drinks, you two sat down in the chairs provided and immediately chugged some water.

“Well that was fun! Do you feel relaxed?”

You sunk into your chair as you dragged out your words for emphasis, Matt shaking his head as he grabbed at his shirt, pulling it over his head and catching you by surprise.

“How am I supposed to be relaxed when I’m drenched in sweat? That was more stressful than relaxing!” He pretended to wring out his shirt before throwing it over the back of his chair.

“Okay well maybe that was bad planning on my part, I didn’t account for the sun at all.”

The two of you exchange smiles before taking a moment to truly relax, taking in the sounds of the water as you thought of where to lead the conversation next.

“So, your family. Tell me more about them. You started to at Top Golf, but if I remember Trevor started having a meltdown and I had to assist.”

Matt laughed thinking about that group date, his fingers playing with the arm of his chair as he thought about what more there was to say.

“I don’t know, my family is just amazing really. They are my biggest supporters ever. My mom and sisters came to my debut and it was such a crazy thing having them there for a game like that. I’m so thankful for them everyday, because I don’t know if I’d have made it this far without them.”

Seeing the way he lit up talking about his family made your heart melt, it was refreshing to see him away from the group. Where he could really be himself and open up to you.

“And what about your dad? I haven’t heard you talk much about him.” You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand as you smiled. Giving him all of your attention as you awaited his response. But noticing his smile fade slightly, you knew that you’d maybe struck a nerve.

“Um, my dad, he actually passed away a couple years ago.”

“Oh my god Matt I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

“You didn’t know, it’s okay. Honest!”

His smile returned as he took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he continued on. His hand still holding yours as if for some support to talk about his dad.

“He was the best! He sacrificed a lot to give me and my siblings everything he never got growing up. He came from an immigrant family, but he didn’t let that stop him. He was completely self made, starting his own engineering company from scratch. My dad was the most amazing man ever, and my best friend. Going through all of this without him there to guide me and see me finally do it. It’s been tough, you know? There are times I want to just stay home, not go to practice. Leave New York and go back to Calgary and be with my family. But he’d never want me to do that, and so I keep pushing. Treat every shift like it’s my last because, we never knew our moments with him might be ours.”

Wiping a tear from your cheek you chuckled at yourself, trying to pull it together and not get upset in front of Matt. He pulled your hand to get you out of your seat as he wrapped his arms around you. Holding you against his chest as he reassured you that he was okay, and you didn’t need to be sad or feel sorry for him.

“Hey, look at me.”

His hands held your cheeks as he pulled you from his chest, his eyes locking with your as he smiled, earning a laugh from you as you were embarrassed by your sniffling.

“I promise you, it’s okay. I’m the man I am today because of my father, and I’m so thankful for the time I had with him. But I’m okay, you don’t need to cry. Of course I wanted to tell you because things like that are important to talk about in relationships. But I promise I didn’t tell you to make you sad. Okay?”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, catching you off guard but you didn’t mind it. Appreciating how much Matt had relaxed around you throughout this date. Which was exactly what you were hoping for.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty gross. Sweaty and covered in sand isn’t the best combo, so how about we head back and get cleaned up? Pretty sure you’ve got another hot date later tonight!”

-

The five guys awarded the group date for this week filed out of the house, gathering around the backyard as they looked at the large canvases set out around the grass. Questioning looks on their faces as to why they were instructed to wear swim trunks if there were painting supplies involved.

“Hey boys!”

They all greeted you as they each found a spot fit with a canvas and supplies. Chuckling to yourself at the looks on their faces, knowing they had no clue what was in store for them.

“I’m sure you all are wondering what the heck is going on here…well today, we are going to be painting.”

As their looks only became more puzzled, you pulled your shirt over your head revealing your bikini top, then followed suit with your shorts to reveal the matching bottoms.

“Except we are the paint brushes!”

The guys all laughed, smirks in their faces as they tried to control their thoughts seeing you in your bathing suit. Quinn smacked Luke on the back of the head and told him to pick his jaw up off the floor. The younger Hughes brother coughing slightly to distract from the drooling he’d just been caught doing.

“You boys use your bodies every time you step on the ice, so I figured we could use your bodies for something different, and that’s painting!”

The guys looked to one another, waiting to see who would be the first to go for it. Nico being the first to discard his shirt, tossing it to the side before picking up a tube of paint and squirting it out onto his chest.

“Oh come on boys, it’s not like we’ve never seen another guy shirtless in our lives!”

With Nico’s chirps the boys all followed, discarding their shirts as they began painting. Some using the predictable route of hands and fingers, while Nico was using his chest and Auston opted for using his legs and butt.

You stopped by each of their stations, seeing how they could use your assistance.

Luke was painting a tree and asked for your handprints to be the apples growing amongst the green. Quinn’s painting was supposedly a sunset, though the colors were blending so much that it all looked like one shade of brown, so he asked you to help brighten it up. Auston was painting an abstract self portrait and asked if you’d do the honor of painting his mustache. John and Nico both somehow ended up deciding to paint roses, which led to a bit of a paint fight between the two of them. More paint ending up on themselves than the actual canvases

“Y/n, can you come take a look at mine?”

Auston called you over to his, the self portrait giving you a good laugh as he wiped his brow. “Honestly, is it a compliment to say this looks like you?”

“I mean, yeah, I think so. That was the goal anyways, so I’ll take it.”

Shaking your head you walked back to check on Quinn, his sunset scene looking a little brighter, though still a bit hard to read. He wore a grumpy look on his face as he sighed, tossing the paint tube to the ground as he looked at you.

“Quinn, it’s okay. Honest. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You wrapped an arm around him as he stared at the canvas, a smirk soon coming across his face as he quickly moved to reach for the paint.

“Here, help me throw a bunch of paint on here.”

You didn’t question him, just following his lead as the two of you scattered different colors in different places. Quinn soon took the tubes from your hand and pulled you onto the canvas, guiding you to sit down before he began making snow angels in the paint.

“Quintin Hughes, you’re joking?”

“Oh come on! The painting was ruined anyways, might as well have some fun with it.”

Rolling your eyes you gave in, the two of you using every inch of your bodies to spread the paint around, the other guys just watching and laughing at how ridiculous you looked.

As you two went to stand, you had to hold one another to stop yourself from slipping on the canvas. Quinn helped you off the side as you looked at the masterpiece you’d created.

“Oh fuck, it’s just a brown blob now.”

Quinn threw his hands in the air, laughing it off as you hugged him. Not caring what the canvas looked like, just enjoying the opportunity to see the goofy side to him and have some fun together.

All of you wrapped up the painting as it was time to award the group date rose. The boys waited in anticipation as you took your time to make your decision.

“Quinn, will you accept this rose?”

He smiled shyly from ear to ear, walking over to give you a hug.

“Absolutely I will.”

Kissing you softly before he found his place back with the guys.

“Okay boys, that was a lot of fun! But we’ve all gotta go get cleaned up, there’s a rose ceremony in a few hours!”

-

Taglist: @dasiysthings @tkwrites @ijustreallylovethem @sweetestcaptainhughes @asunsetgrace16 @siennaluvshcky @loveforaugust @hockeybabe87 @beez-86 @svexhenthusiast @patron-saint-of-scraped-up-knees @petite-potato4 @estapa94 @this-ass-is-eikonic @icebound-imagination

[peterhollandkait]

You Are My Heaven On Earth - Joel Miller

Pairing: No outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joel have been dating for over a year, but you never knew he could sing until Sarah revealed his little secret to you during a movie night.

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Oral sex (fem receiving), slight cockblocking, Joel singing is his own warning, soft!Joel

WC: 2173

A/N: It's finally here! This is my first time posting smut, so please be kind. Shoutout to @tightjeansjavi and @chaotic-mystery for helping me when I started to PANIC. Y'all are my saviors.

Link to the song Joel sings here.

You’d met Joel about a year ago, having just moved a few blocks away from his house in the same neighborhood. When a neighbor suggested Joel’s company to fix the fence on your property, you were pleasantly surprised to find that Mr. Miller was an extremely attractive man your age and not an older gentleman with decades worth of relationships in your vicinity. 

Joel and his younger brother Tommy replaced your fence easily and in a timely fashion, even sealing the wood when you asked about weather protection. 

You spent the week watching the brothers work and when Tommy wasn’t there, learning more about Joel. You learned he was a single dad to a daughter named Sarah, who was ten and his entire world. He’d been a contractor since before graduating high school and started his own company just a few years ago after his brother returned from the military. 

He also learned about you, how you worked at the museum in town as a curator after graduating from graduate school a few years previous. How one of your great grandparents had died and left you a chunk of change big enough to put a deposit on a house. 

You made him lunch every day, paired with either countless glasses of water or lemonade. It started as a kindness, something to show him appreciation for his work. But by the third day, you were itching to see his sweat soaked face and thick arms enter your house, sit at your table and eat the food you’d prepared for him. 

By the end of the week, you weren’t willing to let Joel walk out of your life until you needed another job done. As soon as you had handed Joel the check for his work and watched him place it in his pocket, you took the pen you were holding and boldly grabbed his hand, scribbling your house number over his knuckles.

Joel called you as soon as he’d gotten home that evening. 

So here you were, a year later, snuggling with Sarah on their couch watching the newest Barbie movie while you waited for Joel to come home for the night. When he still hadn’t arrived at her bed time, you went through the motions with her and tucked her in before returning to the couch. 

The evening’s Jeopardy episode was rerunning when Joel entered the house about an hour later, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He was happy to see it was only you on the couch, though he felt horrible for leaving you with Sarah duty, again. It was an unfortunate habit over the last few weeks, a particular job causing him anguish and keeping him late. 

You looked at him brightly from where you sat, your smile wide as you greeted him. “Hi, honey. Come sit.” You patted the couch next to you, luring him in. 

He abided, sighing again as he settled into the cushions. Immediately, you crawled your way into his lap, hands rubbing up and down his arms and shoulders soothingly. 

“Hi, sweet pea,” he whispered, eyes falling closed from the bliss of your touch. God, he loved you.

“Sarah told me a secret today,” you whispered back, hands still moving. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Your smirk was evident in your voice as you said, “She told me how you can play guitar and, I couldn’t believe it, sing. What have you been hiding from me, cowboy?”

Joel’s chuckle rattled in his chest, his eyes opening to see your mischievous grin. “She said that? She must have gotten me confused with another dad.”

“Hm, I don’t think so. There’s only one Joel Miller that lives in this house.” You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips gently. “What do I have to do to get a pretty boy like you to sing for me?” 

Joel’s cock twitched as you uttered the words, making you smirk. “Tell you what, pretty boy,” you paused, emphasizing on the last two words. You watched his Adam’s apple bob with his hard swallow, eyes watching you carefully. “Sing a few songs for me and I’ll let you have your way with me. How does that sound?”

Joel nodded, albeit a bit frantically. He’d take you right here on this couch if it meant you’d keep calling him your pretty boy. 

“Guitar is in the bedroom, s-sweet pea,” he stuttered, hands gravitating to your hips as you ground against him. 

“Okay, honey.” You grabbed his hands as you stood, leading him up the stairs to his bedroom. You’d changed into one of his flannels after Sarah had gone to bed, the fabric almost reaching your knees as you walked. 

You hadn’t planned on teasing Joel to death, truly. But when he walked in after a long day with exhaustion exuding from his body, you figured he could use a little fun before the weekend began in earnest. 

When you reached the bed, you settled yourself in the middle, legs open and on display while Joel pulled the guitar case from under his bed. 

Joel was nervous as he clicked open the case, pulling the acoustic guitar from its resting place. He hadn’t sung for anyone in a long time, anyone except Sarah of course.

His hands shook as he moved himself onto the bed next to you, guitar settled on his lap. He tested a few strums, taking his time to tune the instrument before he began. 

Your voice caught in your throat at the sound of Joel’s sweet melody filled the room. His voice was soft, yet gritty as he crooned the lyrics of Garth Brooks’ “If Tomorrow Never Comes.”

If I never wake in the morning

Would she ever doubt the way I feel

About her in my heart

If tomorrow never comes

Will she know how much I loved her

Did I try in every way to show her every day

That she's my only one

Tears welled as you listened, love pouring from Joel’s soul as he went through the chorus and second verse. You laid your hand on his thigh closest to yours, watching him with soft eyes. 

Though his voice is rough from lack of use, the song was beautiful and full of his love for you. He had glanced at you several times during the song, but it was your expression at the end of the song that gave him purpose. 

He’d barely put the guitar aside before his hands were on you, lips chasing yours. You met him with equal force, bounding into his lap. His hands roamed your bare skin under the flannel you wore, finding purchase on your thighs as they straddled his hips. 

“That,” you moaned as his lips explored the skin down your neck and chest. “Was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

With your hands tangled in his brown curls, Joel explored lower, leaving marks along your collarbones and a particularly harsh bruise on your left breast. You gasped as his teeth sunk into your sensitive skin, the feeling soothed moments later with his gentle kisses to the area. 

Carefully Joel flipped you onto your back, undoing the buttons on the flannel as he moved down your body, head hovering just above the place you wanted him most. 

“Please,” you breathed out, hand tugging at his hair. “P-please Joel, right there.” 

Joel placed a kiss to your inner thigh, smirking into your skin as he tugged your underwear down your hips and tossed them behind him. 

“Are you going to be good for me, darling?” 

“S-so good…I’ll be so good.” Joel nudged your clit with his nose as you spoke, your hips bucking up in response. 

You felt his fingers first, sliding between your folds to collect the wetness there. He used his free hand to hold your thighs apart as his tongue found your clit, tracing skilled circles around the bundle of nerves. 

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered, back arching from his touch. 

Joel made a muffled sound of approval, continuing to devour your clit while two of his fingers inched into your entrance. You mewled at the feeling of his hands slowly spreading you open, his fingers curling just right to hit your most sensitive spot.

Joel ate you out like a man starved, his fingers finding an equal rhythm to match his pace against your cunt. You tugged on his hair in response, heavy moans escaping from your mouth. 

He pulled his mouth away from you slightly, hand continuing his movement as he said, “shh, darling. We don’t want to wake Sarah now. Be good for me and stay quiet sweet pea.”  

His fingers curled in that moment, your frantic nodding the only response you could give him as he continued his assault on you. 

With his mouth back on your clit, fingers continually reaching the spot that made you see stars, you were close. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you choked, your free hand grabbing the sheets for purchase. “Joel I’m gonna,” you groaned as he hummed against your skin, somehow moving faster than he had before.

Joel coaxed your orgasm out of you at a deliberate pace, your wetness covering his chin and beard as you came undone underneath him.

 He loved watching you come, the way your back arched and heels dug into the mattress. How you closed your eyes, groaning in pleasure as you called out his name. He loved knowing that he was the only one who could bring you to this state, panting and writhing from his touch. 

He carried you through your orgasm, mouth sucking at your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore, a hand gently shoving him away from over sensitivity. He slowly pulled his fingers from within you, raising them to his mouth and sucking your wetness from them, eyes watching you watch him. 

When he was finished, he trailed kisses back up your body, leaving a tender one on the bruising spot he’d left on the side of your breast before he reached your mouth again. 

You kissed him lazily, tasting yourself on him as you explored his mouth with your tongue. Joel moaned in return, a hand finding purchase on your hip.

 You tugged on his shirt, raising it over his head and tossing it aside before you began to work on his jeans when you heard a gentle knock on the door. “Daddy?”

You paused your movements, watching Joel as he sat back on his heels. “Just a sec, baby girl.” 

You squeezed his hand as he moved off of the bed, using the flannel still hanging on your body to wipe your wetness from his chin before he walked to the door. 

You sat up also, taking the few steps to Joel’s closet to find some more respectful clothing to put on for Sarah to see. 

Joel opened the door gently, peering down at his young daughter in the darkness of the hallway. “What’s wrong, baby girl? We didn’t wake you, did we?”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I-I had a nightmare, daddy.”

“Oh darling,” Joel fell to his knees in front of Sarah, pulling her into his chest. “It’s alright, you’re safe now. 

You heard her sniffle before she mumbled, “Can m-mommy come lay in bed with me for a while?”

You stilled, your heart warming at her words. She’d never called you mom before and you’d never expected it in a million years. 

Joel felt your hands on his shoulders as he stuttered, “mommy?” 

Sarah nodded, looking up at you expectantly. “You’re going to be my mommy now, right? I…I overheard you and uncle Tommy talking about it the other day daddy.” Her eyes drifted down to Joel’s and back up again, a pout forming on her mouth. “Can you come lay with me and tell me one of those stories? I really like it when you tell me stories before bed.”

“Of course, honey. Why don’t you go get settled and I’ll be right there, okay?” 

Sarah nodded, giving her dad one last hug before she made her way back down the hallway and into her room. 

You leaned down on Joel’s shoulders then, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Mommy, huh?” 

“I, uh…” Joel was glad you couldn’t see his face, red creeping up his neck and into his cheeks and ears. He hadn’t bought a ring yet, had barely started thinking about it when Tommy mentioned the idea a few weeks previous. How Sarah heard the conversation, he had no idea. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered against his skin. “Your secret is safe with me. Why don’t I go and get Sarah back to sleep and then you and I can continue what we started in the shower, hm?”

“Sure, darling, whatever you say.” He could feel your smile on his neck, your lips brushing against his ear. 

“I love you, pretty boy.”

“And I love you, sweet pea.”

[lo-wrote]

Warm Beer and Old Sushi Part of The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five, a semi-autobiographical series on dating in my late 20's. Contains sexual content. WC: 1.6k

I hate beer.

I don’t know why I keep agreeing to first date at bars when I have such strong feelings about beer. Probably because this is a city that loves its beer, like loves its fucking beer, like can’t throw a pebble without hitting a guy with a shaved head wearing cargo shorts and flip-flops who’s just amped to play cornhole kind of loves its fucking beer. I’ve heard lectures and diatribes and TED Talks worth of information about beer, and the importance of using the right hops, and the unique flavor profile of this particular IPA, and the myriad of reasons why this brewery or that are actually sellouts and got too big to truly feel indie anymore.

It’s the curse of working non-standard hours, the only things open by the time I get off work are Denny’s and bars and breweries and supermarkets.

Maybe I should start asking to meet at the grocery store. We walk around, we pick out a few things. I learn about your aversion to coconut, you tease me about my love for condensed canned soup (yes, the noodles are gummy and yes it has my whole day’s worth of sodium but it tastes like nostalgia, like laying on the couch with the flu and drinking warm ginger ale—wait, you didn’t do that? well let me tell you...). We spend an eternity, or maybe just half an hour, getting to know each other in the liminal space of the deli section, the fluorescent lights humming us a love song. We coyly hold hands in front of the hothouse tomatoes, scandalize the cantaloupes with a chaste kiss.

But here I am instead, perched on a bar stool in a way that will absolutely wreck my already weak lower back, sipping at a beer that tastes only moderately like warm piss-water. The guy in front of me, the one whose profile regrettably said Just a Jim looking for my Pam!, is talking about the beer he ordered. Telling me about the local brewery that makes it, how it’s their special edition just for the fall, how it doesn’t quite compare to this other IPA he had but it’s good enough, y’know?

He never asks me if I like beer.

We exchange a few pleasantries once he exhausts himself talking about pale ales, catch up on our days, subtly look each other over again and again to see how we measure up to our profiles (it’s 1:1 match, ladies and gentleman!). He seems to have worn himself out already on conversation, like a puppy let loose to run around the backyard before it collapses in a sleepy heap, and the deadly first-date lull sets in. The killer of vibes has already come for us, and we’ve been here no more than fifteen minutes.

I, for one, am a dismal conversationalist when getting to know someone. I listen better than I talk, the only subject matter I can conjure in situations like these being work anecdotes that require more set-up than I’m willing to commit to, or useless facts that I’ve learned from years of playing Trivial Pursuit and reading too much Wikipedia.

My mind is like a steel trap for things that will only come in handy if I’m ever in a life-or-death game of Jeopardy. Did you know that the artificial banana flavoring used in most modern products doesn’t taste like banana because it was created off the flavor profile of a banana that went extinct? My dates don’t know. But they don’t care. They never care about the banana-pocolypse.

As the lull becomes more painful to bear and I contemplate sliding off my barstool and curling up on the floor, he fiddles with the cardboard coaster and says, “You know, sometimes when I come to bars, I look around and try to identify if anyone was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.”

“What an absolutely unhinged thing to say to another human being that you just met,” I want to say.

“Really? How would one do that?” I actually say because fuck, it’s not like I have anything more interesting to add. Maybe if I let him ramble about this for a bit, I’ll think of something witty and charming to say and redirect the conversation. (Hint: I don’t.)

We leave after a little while, roam the city blocks looking for anything else open, preferably anything that doesn’t require us to talk. He kisses me suddenly as we stand in front of the monkey bars in a well-lit playground, and I return the kiss. He smells like warm beer. I hate it even more on his lips than I do from a pint glass.

We end up attempting sex in the back of his car, hidden away on some dark residential street, parked in front of a perfectly nice bungalow, the flicker of a malfunctioning streetlight occasionally illuminating our sins. I’m wearing too many layers to make this easy; I was expecting to be only looked at from a reasonable distance, not that I’d end up trying to straddle his lap in the back of his Honda Civic. I struggle with my boots, then my bike shorts, then my tights, yanking up my tank top that’s tucked into my smoothing underwear. The mood feels deflated by the time I swing my leg over his lap, my thighs already shaking as they press against his slim hips and he fondles a handful of push-up bra.

We try, and we get sweaty and frustrated, and we mostly fail at trying to achieve penetration. I feel to blame, with my labyrinth of compression garments pooled on the floor, the hasty removal of each item sapping the sexiness from the moment bit by bit. I feel to blame because of my wide thighs and my big stomach that seemed to get in the way. I feel to blame because I feel like I engulf his skinny body.

He chalks it up to that damned autumnal IPA and a small space and perhaps too much eagerness, but the look on his face doesn’t match the kindness of the words that fill the car. I pull down my dress and shove all my bits and bobs of undergarments into my purse and stumble out of his car onto the sidewalk. He says goodnight and he’ll text me tomorrow, and I walk back to my car alone, in an unfamiliar part of the city. Even if he’d offered to walk or drive me back, I would have said no; I need to exist in this shame for a little while.

I walk in the dark for blocks in the wrong direction before I realize it.

He does text me the next day, shockingly. It’s a long, rambling message, telling me he had a lovely time but he just doesn’t think he’s in the right place for a relationship. You see, his friends just got into a minor fender bender in a car that he had rented for them, and the stress of dealing with the insurance and the repair shop and god knows what else is just so overwhelming, you know? There’s just no way he could even think about a relationship, and couldn’t possibly devote attention to me in the way I deserved. I’m certain there was more, but I stopped reading after the third multi-paragraph message.

Maybe this story was true, in part or in totality. Maybe he just couldn’t think of a better way to turn me down and decided to turn it into a creative writing project. Maybe he uses this line on everyone he turns down, like some sort of weird chain letter that gets passed on.

I’d have rather he just ghosted me.

At least I know how to deal with ghosting now. After enough times of radio silence after what I thought was a successful first, third, or fifth date, I learned it was sometimes for the best to just never hear from someone again. Sure, I would wonder what it was that made them crinkle their nose and think, “Nah” the next day. Did the size of my body, accurately represented in multiple pictures in my app profiles, still manage to offend them? Did I not laugh just the right way at a joke that, in retrospect, was kind of insensitive? Did my obvious ambivalence for lukewarm beer shake them deep down to their core, make them question their whole being?

I stand in the middle of my bedroom, shower-fresh and already wanting the day to be over, and tell him it’s fine, and I had a nice time, and I wish him all the best with the chaos he purports to be embroiled in, and then I promptly block his number and get ready for work, because what the fuck else am I supposed to do.

I stop at the grocery store on my way to work, wandering the aisles and wondering if he’d have still written the most convoluted farewell message if we’d just had that first date right here, found ourselves enchanted with each other in front of the pre-made rotisserie chickens. I stare at the day-old discount sushi rolls and want to cry for some reason, but no tears ever come, not when the butcher lurks just behind the counter, watching, judging, hovering in case I need a pound of raw shrimp.

Maybe one day I’ll find a man who will walk hand-in-clammy-hand with me down the dairy aisle and we’ll marvel at the variety of flavors of yogurt they have nowadays. Today, I buy a California roll that smells like spoiled tuna to eat in my car alone and hope I don’t get food poisoning.

[chibi-celesti]

Zenva spiritum grandee mea presia (Please Dive into Me)

Synopsis: Twst boys response when you ask them to dive into your soul.

Context! To ensure the mental and spiritual safety of a Reyvateil is not in jeopardy, someone(usually the hero/assigned bodyguard) would go through a psychological dive usually via a Diving Machine. This will allow the consciousness of the Guardian to enter the Reyvateil to remove any of the conflicts/ noises that are hazardous to the Reyvateil's health.

Characters: GN reader/Yuu/OC Reyvateil x Twst 21 feat. Rollo, Neige and Che'nya

Warnings: Innuendos ahoy(only for the Intro tho), high school crushes, possible OOC-ness in this list(I apologize in advance)

"I know that I am asking alot from you with this. But I trust you enough to help me."

"So please, will you.... dive into me?"

The ones who spontaneously combust at the request!

Still can't comprehend what you just said. wording. It's IMPORTANT lol

Contrary to how they're acting on the outside, they are honored you would as them to help you in your time of need. .exe has stopped working.

(Deuce Spade, Riddle Rosehearts, Jack Howl, Kalim Al-Asim, Epel Felmier, Idia Shroud, Sebek Zigvolt, Neige LeBlanche, Rollo Flamme)

Cheeky, smiling bastards that laugh at your request (while internally freaking out over their crush on you)

Love the attention of you begging them to go inside you your soul. Sure it's simple cleansing process to take of noise and viruses, but they won't let you forget your proposal all while pretending they aren't blushing like a lovelorn fool

(Ace Trappola, Cater Diamond, Ruggie Bucchi, Leona Kingscholar, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Azul Ashengrotto, Rook Hunt, Lilia Vanrouge, Che’nya)

Shocked, Composed and Touched Types (aka the Gentleman type)

The one who remains level headed for you sake. One who, despite blushing at the odd word choice, acts princely like and ensures your well-being above all.

(Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Malleus Draconia, Silver)

[ashandquiet]

My Most Unswerving Devotion

Chapter 4: The Duke's Ball

Regency! Soma Jarlskona x F!Reader

Summary: Since coming to Norfolk to stay with your family, the conversations have all revolved around matrimony. Just when your aunt has found a match for you much to your chagrin, quite by accident you fall for the wealthy Duke of Cambridgeshire; Soma Guthrumsdóttir. Can circumstance truly keep you apart?

A/N: Our heroine arrives at the home of the Duke and explores the splendorous halls of her manor.  I hope you all enjoy this update! I would love to know what you imagine your ballgown to look like, please visit my ask box and let me know there!

Read it on Ao3

You spent the next week buried in letters from Oswald, the rate of your correspondence had your aunt whispering about how you were surely in love, and how marriage couldn’t be far off. Yet that could not be further from the truth.

If she could’ve seen the true nature of your letters she would have been severely disappointed by the mention of Oswald’s other amour, Valdis, and that you were set to help him woo her and gain approval from her elder brothers; whose names you had come to learn were Brothir and Broder. They had fled from a gentleman in Denmark who was completely set on possessing Valdis even if that meant against her will. Due to these circumstances, the brothers were very apprehensive when it came to other alternate matches for their younger sister. 

So while you busied yourself with ways that Oswald could entreat himself upon Vadis’s brothers, your new friend had set about procuring all the names and likenesses that he could of the lady gentlemen about the countryside. 

In his most recent letter, Oswald assured you that at least three would be in attendance at the ball hosted by Soma Guthrumsdóttir. This list included the lady gentleman from the picnic, Birna Knudsen the daughter of some wealthy Scandinavian merchants, and the equerry to the Duke’s estate. Eivor Varinsdóttir, a friend of Oswald’s and apparently the Duke as well, was the orphaned child of a land-holding man in Norway who was adopted by another wealthy man. She and her brother had come to England to establish their own fortunes here.  And of course, there would be the fabled Duke of Cambridgeshire herself, Soma Guthrumsdóttir, as she was the host. Yet you doubted your chances of even meeting her.

While it was customary for the guests to introduce themselves at a normal ball, a masquerade was quite different. All you had to look for was the presence of women dressed as men with masquerade masks.

As you pondered the worn threads of the handkerchief while sitting at the old mahogany writing desk, you couldn’t help but feel a slight tinge of bitterness. 

Perhaps if you had been born wealthy or of better station you would have the luxury afforded to the women within the Duke’s inner circle. A life full of adventure and opportunity, and the freedom of financial choice. After all, it all came down to the money, it was not having it that put your future in jeopardy. Should your mother’s older brother have been more generous perhaps you wouldn’t have been forced into considering marriage as an economic proposition instead of one of amorous devotion. 

Perhaps all the books you have read have completely spoiled you, and true love didn't exist after all. 

You envied your new friend and his fortune in being a man, and his lady love for her vehemently protective older brothers blocking any idea of marriage.

You tried to shake the nasty feeling as you stood and paced about your room. Counting your blessings helped a bit to shirk the cruel sentiments away, you had made a friend, and he was willing to play at being your pretend suitor so that you could avoid matches at least till the end of the season. You had a mystery to unravel and a lady gentleman to chase, no matter how hopeless it seemed at times. And your uncle had just paid for a new dress to be constructed for you at the beginning of the summer, perhaps at the behest of your aunt and her insistence that your simple fashions would do little to win you the hand of a young man. 

But nonetheless, it had arrived from the dressmakers at just the right time. The elegant piece hung from the top of your boudoir now, with all its splendorous beading and embroidery. Its matching masquerade mask was fashioned with feathers and set upon a sculpted rod, with a loop for the wrist fashioned with a string of pearls. Truly the most opulent garment and accessories you had ever seen.

A pack of fortunate blessings indeed.

Regardless of the events to come at the ball, you resigned yourself to make the most of the evening.

ꕥ

On the evening of the ball, it was raining. 

You had stayed quiet while the maids helped you dress and affix your hair into a fashionable style with adjournments that complimented your dress in just the right way. They whispered and giggled about the joys of a ball and what a sensible event a masquerade could be for a burgeoning courtship. 

Apparently, all ears in the household were aware of the supposed romantic attachment between you and Mr. Egerton. You made a note to inform Oswald tonight that you would be limiting your letters to once a week before rumors could spiral completely out of hand. 

With your wrist freshly dressed with new bandages to cover the bruising and decorated with a pearl bracelet since gloves were out of the question due to limited mobility in your fingers, the maids stepped back to admire their handiwork and excused themselves back to other tasks.

“Are you alright miss?” One of the younger girls asked as the other two slipped out of the room with baskets of linens and your tray from afternoon tea.

You glanced over at her and offered a polite smile, “Yes, I’m alright, thank you.”

“If your wrist troubles you miss I could fetch some ice?”

“No it's quite alright thank you,” you hoped desperately you looked dismissive and that she’d leave. 

With a final nod, she collected her basket of things and shuffled out of the room leaving you alone with your thoughts at last. You rose from the vanity stool to stand by the large window of your bedroom. 

You rested your temple against the chilled glass watching as delicate droplets of summer rain hit the glass. Your thoughts were an incoherent mess, and your head was beginning to ache. Within a few hours, you would arrive at the home of the Duke of Cambridgeshire. 

There you would have to scour what you could of the faces of party guests all dressed in finery and hidden behind masquerade masks. All while at least appearing cordial to the young men in attendance. Perhaps, you could “lose” your dance card in the gardens, and then any attempt to secure a dance with you could be rebuked. For it would be positively impolite to promise dances to anyone if you couldn’t keep track of who had asked for dances.

Or you could “forget” to place them in your handbag altogether. Where would you positively have the space? You turned your attention to the handbag stuffing the handkerchief inside with a vail of peppermint smelling salts should you need them. You briskly made your way down the main staircase and into the foyer where your aunt and uncle waited for the carriage to be brought around front.

Ever the demure gentleman your uncle was dressed plainly in a simple suit, clutching his simple silk mask. Your aunt, however, was dressed extravagantly in a bright lilac brocade, a gauzy gossamer shawl wrapped around her shoulders, with her hair done up full of adornments. Her own masquerade mask much like your own was worn around her wrist on a bracelet, the gaudy thing looked heavy, all decorated with gold and feathers. 

She was so busy fussing over your uncle’s plain appearance, that when she finally caught sight of you she startled.

“Oh- my dear niece don’t you look just lovely! If you haven’t captured the heart of Mr. Egerton already you surely will tonight!” She swept her arms in large motions, making a full circle around you.

“Didn’t the dressmakers do the most wonderful job, dear husband?” She asked your uncle, though you weren’t sure she really expected him to answer.

“You look lovely Miss (Y/N),” your uncle nodded politely to you and walked towards the doors at the sound of the carriage wheels crunching on the wet stone pathway. “Now come on ladies, we don’t want to be late for the masquerade.”

You followed his lead and stepped out into the late afternoon air, despite the rain it was mildly warm out, and the smell of petrichor permeated the air with an almost iron quality. A butler held an umbrella over your head as you made your way to the carriage door, carefully lifting the skirts of your ballgown so they weren't ruined by the water that pooled in the rocks. On the horizon, you could see stretches of pink through the light spots in the clouds as the sun set just beyond the cover of rain.

As you took your seat you released a long breath and gazed out the window. Oswald had agreed to find you once you arrived, ask for a dance to keep your aunt satiated, and then after you would slip away and begin your investigation. All you had to do was survive this carriage ride. 

The whole of the carriage ride from your uncle's estate to the home of the Duke your aunt tittered about the humidity inside the carriage, the length of the ride, and the abysmal subject of the perversion of a woman to think she can take the title of a man. While you couldn’t help but wish that the sound of the rain on the carriage roof was loud enough to drown out her idle prattle, your uncle repeatedly rebuked her attempts to stir contempt toward your host.

“If you cannot bring yourself to be civil towards our host, I will have this carriage turned around at once,” your uncle stated plainly as he fiddled with the silk of his masquerade mask for the umpteenth time. “She has kindly extended an invitation to us, I do not understand where you have gained such a predisposition to dislike the Duke, but if you must. Please save the rest of us the misery of hearing you commiserate about it.”

Your aunt sputtered clutching at her gloves, “M-my love, but haven’t you heard she- she lays with women.”

“Must you really recycle that old rumor? Are you afraid she’ll steal all the young ladies of the countryside away from you?” Your uncle gave her a pointed look that suggested she say no more on the subject. 

“What would it matter if she did?” You asked softly as you fiddled with the wrap around your injured wrist.

“What would it matter-” Your aunt’s statement was cut short by a knock on the roof by the carriage driver. 

The sudden disturbance caused all heads to turn towards the windows, there in the shimmering night, lay a magnificent manor house. 

Even in the rain, the front was lit up with tiny glittering fires that shone off the cream-colored stone. Two mirrored staircases led from the oblong drive to an elevated terrace decorated with the boisterous blooms of hollyhock and delicate primroses, a Grecian colonnade held up a balcony lined with wisteria. Meticulously groomed hedges protected red-blooming crepe myrtle trees that hung heavy with blooms framed the front of the elegant home.

Identical glass doors lay open sending the raucous sounds of music and partygoers across the drive and waterlily-filled fountain, wherein the center three bare-breasted Grecian maidens poured water from painstakingly carved amphoras down into the pool that traveled the length of the drive. 

“It's… breathtaking…,” you whispered moving ever closer to the window feeling as if you looked away from the dream before you it would disappear.

“It certainly is, the old Duke did have a flair for the dramatic,” your uncle affirmed as the carriage rolled to a stop between the two staircases.

“I doubt the naked maidens were his addition,” your aunt quipped as servants dressed in deep Aegean blue vests approached with umbrellas.

Your uncle turned towards her sharply, “If you must make comments perhaps we should return home. (Y/N), would you like to stay?”

For all her previous bluster your aunt fell silent as all eyes turned to you. Now it was your decision. Stay and look for the truth, or go.

Mustering your courage you smiled politely, “I can ask Mr. Egerton to bring me home in his carriage come the parties end.”

“Then it’s settled,” your uncle nodded to the servant who drew open the doors and you climbed out of the dark humid carriage and into the dewy night air.

“Be polite!” Was the last cry from the woman you left behind as you climbed the stone staircase and raised your masquerade mask to your eyes. 

Finally, your hunt for the lady gentleman would begin.

ꕥ

Oswald met you in the main foyer, his own mask lifted so you could see his face, the mask pushed upwards mussed his blonde curls.

“Miss (Y/N), you’re here! And unchaperoned?” His voice was chipper yet cautious as he looked around for your aunt and uncle curiously.

“Due to, unforeseen… prejudice, I am attending unaccompanied yes, perhaps, it would be alright if I were to join you in your carriage for the ride back to Norfolk at the end of the night?” You asked moving your own mask aside so you could speak better. 

“But of course! I couldn’t leave such a friend stranded,” he smiled and offered you his arm. “Come with me, I’ll supply you with a tour.”

The interior was just as splendorous with wide-open common spaces and glamorous furnishing. Once you looked up to see the visage of a goddess draped in gold painted upon the ceiling, her long golden hair spilling around her like the rays of the sun, her face tranquil and her hands outstretched. 

Seasonal florals draped window sills and the edges of stairs, with spiraling candles decorating open spaces, illuminating the guests in a warm golden hue. The smell of orange flower cordial mixed with that of fresh fruit and decadent cheeses on table tops. Waiters stood in doorways and common areas with trays of ratsfia and punch, others with water and ices.

As Oswald guided you around the wide sprawling rooms decorated with paintings and sculptures, opulent rugs, and elegant drapery you became acutely aware that you were amongst a different sort of company here. Something about the energy that radiated from the very walls and the people that filled the rooms oozed safety and community. 

While it was likely that societal rules still applied here, you pondered which rules exactly, surely not the same rules of the society your aunt clung to so vehemently. The ones where women wore dresses and men wore suits, where propriety was following the exact societal pressures to the letter. Women married men and had babies, and most certainly didn’t go about the countryside kissing other ladies. 

After Oswald had shown you around the quieter rooms with their art, the pair of you entered the main ballroom you were quickly overcome by all the sights, colors, and smells. 

A small ensemble of performers played jovial music from a raised platform in a far corner, filling the space with sound. Here people danced and laughed, chatted, and clapped along with the music. Everyone dressed in their finery faces obscured by masks of all kinds. 

The heat of the bodies all around you made you glad of the open doors along the exterior walls, they bid glances out to the manicured gardens and the cool stone columns that lined the veranda. 

You motioned for Oswald to halt and picked a place near enough to the doors that a gentle night breeze could cool your heated skin. He obliged and led you towards the nearest unoccupied high table. Thankful for the reprieve you placed your handbag down on the table. It was becoming difficult to hold up both your masquerade mask and the weight of the handbag with only one hand.

Now with the space between you and your companion, you felt free to let your eyes wander about the room. For a moment they lingered on a tall blonde woman dressed in blacks and blues and stayed there. You took account of her stylish men's suit, another lady gentleman. Her own mask was styled to look like a raven decorated with black feathers and silver detailing. The embroidery of her suit jacket was styled like that of the ancient Viking wood carvings and ravens. Oswald must’ve caught your glance because he leaned in so you could hear him over the din.

“My friend Eivor,” he said, and you recalled the name with a nod. “The woman wearing the cat mask with her is Valka, an old friend of her’s recently came from Norway.”

You nodded observing the pair, Valka was dressed elegantly yet almost simply in black, and her hair was wrapped in a black scarf making the natural ashen color of her mask stand out against the black silk. Soon a middling-height red-headed woman dressed in cobalt blue joined them from the dance that just concluded. 

Oswald tapped the table lightly, “I’ll be right back, what do you say to a capillaire? Or perhaps a rose water?”

“Just a rose water would be fine thank you,” You nodded and waved him off letting your eyes continue to scan the crowd. 

You spotted at least two other women dressed in gentlemen's clothes upon his departure and began to wonder if Oswald was really right about the country being filled with lady gentlemen. Maybe you operated in the completely wrong circles after all. Flushing you began to wonder how many ladies were in attendance that like you, held sapphic tendencies. 

How many people had fled the ball before even entering the otherworldly manor house at the sight of the bare-breasted maidens alone? Or was the mention of the Duke’s name and her reputation alone enough to scare people away.

You noticed a tall lady gentleman weaving through the crowd, her dark hair pulled back, her own masquerade mask the visage of a horse. She approached the blonde, Eivor, and her companions and began speaking to them in a bright and affable way. From the musical lilt of her voice, you recognized her from the picnic as Birna Knudsen, the equerry of the estate. 

That was two of the lady gentlemen Oswald had mentioned accounted for, you bit your knuckle as you glanced around the room curiously. Where would a Duke be in a place of such affluence and lush?

Oswald returned just as you had begun to admire the beautiful frescoes that adorned the ceilings. 

“One rose water for the lady,” He said as he passed you the fine coupe glass. 

“Thank you,” you took a sip and couldn’t help but sigh, the cool liquid helped to chill you. “I hadn’t realized how hot I was feeling.”

Oswald nodded as he sipped his own drink, “I hope you won’t find it an impertinence but I was thinking about joining the revelry…”

You shook your head quickly, “No please, go enjoy your evening.”

“Well, if you're so eager to be rid of me,” he teased but smiled. “Come and find me should you need anything (Y/N).”

With that, he was gone and you were left alone with your glass of rose water and a puzzle to unpick.

After a bit more time people-watching in the main ballroom, you picked up your handbag and decided to explore the open rooms of the manor at your own pace. In one room you found a pianoforte which was being played by a younger girl, who would surely have been very good if not for her singing. In another room, two men sat whispering and chuckling to themselves their hands clasped together affectionately. Neither seemed to notice or care about your presence or any other person in the room for that matter, one of the gentlemen leaned in close, cupping the other's face, and planted a sweet loving kiss upon his nose. 

You felt flush upon seeing such a private moment of affection and fled the room. Embarrassment fluttered in your chest as you ducked out onto a balcony, blushing you leaned up against a wall. You could not begin to comprehend how you felt, the moment of intimacy burned in your mind. The idea of being so open with the one you love, in such a public space as a ball, regardless of gender. 

You sighed and stepped away from the wall and walked along the edge of the overhang, letting the cool mist from the rain that bounced off the stone cool your flush skin. From your handbag, you pulled the handkerchief, its worn threads soothing your piqued nerves.

How strange, you found yourself thinking, that such a small thing could provide such comfort. You closed your eyes and sighed leaning up against one of the Grecian columns letting the soft plip-plop of raindrops on stone, cooled evening air, and the sweet perfume of evening primroses wash over you.

In your thoughts you were there again, the lady gentleman’s hands, gently caressing your injured wrist, her brassy voice tranquil and kind. You could still smell the grass, and feel the warmth of the afternoon sun, yet around the edges, the memory was beginning to fade.

The sound of footsteps brutally yanked you from the echo of your encounter. You stood up straight and turned to face the person who interrupted your reverie.

There stood a lady gentleman, her rich brown hair pulled back into a loose bun and some strands hung loose about her neck and chin, her face was uncovered by a mask allowing you to examine her strong features more thoroughly. She had a strong jaw and a quizzical brow, her stormy gray eyes caught the candlelight and shone like fresh foam on the sea. She was dressed elegantly in a black waistcoat lined with shimmering yellow silk, and her vest was embroidered with all manner of florals and the sign of a snake on the lapel. In her hand, she held your mask, you must've dropped it in your haste.

“Miss, I believe you dropped this,” She approached slowly, her honey-rich voice dripped with concern and something, like confusion. And yet you knew exactly who it was, in all your waking dreams you would know her voice.

She paused steps away from you, quickly examining your form. In the most tender voice, that almost cracked on every syllable, “Dove… is that you…?”

[acespaceacepilot]

my read on wyll is that a lot of his life before his exile was chosen for him. that he generally had little control or freedom outside what ulder chose for him—i mean he had to sneak out to play hop-scotch, for godsake. his life was extremely planned out, the finest education and tutors, weapon practice, etiquette, dance lessons, orating, and war strategies. all of that took up his waking hours

and then, when his father was out of town and he was on the cusp of adulthood, he made a snap decision. and got punished severely for it. he went from his father’s authority to mizora’s control, his own wants/needs/desires minimized for the greater good. his father’s idea for good being through politics and helping others, which mizora used to manipulate wyll into agreeing to be an instrument for her power.

his body and to some extent his mind were managed by others, either through literally picking and choosing what he learned or by telling him which creatures to hunt down and slay, his physical existence in jeopardy if he resisted.

which i think also feeds into his whole thing about courting and taking it slow. it’s something he gets to choose for himself. he can be intentional about building that bond and deciding how slow or quick he wants to go. mizora has control over his power and body, but she can’t control his heart and emotions.

anyway i just think wyll though he is a gentleman and courtly, he takes joy in being able to pace out the slow burn of it all

[orgyporgy]

Thinking about the gentleman in the Sony lot employee cafeteria that I snuck into for lunch between jeopardy tapings last week who handed me my chicken sandwich and said “here you go mamas, have a blessed day”

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: The Days and Nights of Sophia Petrillo

Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy lounge around the house during a rainy day. Meanwhile, Sophia has an active and fulfilling day volunteering, raising money for charity, and fighting with customer service people.

Picture It...

Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy sit in the kitchen on a rainy morning in their pajamas. Sophia enters, fully dressed and carrying an umbrella, on her way to the market to buy a nectarine. After she leaves, the other Girls opine that Sophia has nothing interesting in her life before trying to decide what to do to fill the rainy day. They initially decide to reline the kitchen shelves until they get distracted by a box of cookies.

At the market, Sophia is picking out a nectarine and runs into her friend Claire, who's looking for a refund on a lamb chop. The employee says they can't take it back, but Sophia starts arguing, claiming to be a representative of the Network of Older People Retired but Living (NOPRL). When a manager comes over, she then claims to be with the Organization of Retired and Elderly People (OREP) and threatens a boycott against the store if her friend doesn't get a refund. The manager pays the lamb chop refund out of his own pocket, and Sophia guilts Claire into paying for her nectarine.

SOPHIA: Hey! Hey, you got any decent nectarines? WORKER: There's nothing wrong with those nectarines. SOPHIA: Please, I've got a bowl of wax bananas that'll be ripe before these are. WORKER: You're crazy! This nectarine is byoo-tee-ful. I never saw a more perfect piece of fruit. SOPHIA: No? Then try kissing my behind. It's a real peach!

Back in the kitchen, Rose and Dorothy are listening to Blanche tell stories about her encounters with men -- in particular a date with one Preston Bougainvillea, a gentleman with long, floppy ears (and apparently other long, floppy appendages). They no longer feel like relining the kitchen shelves and change tasks to rearranging living room furniture, deciding not to wait for Sophia to get back.

On the boardwalk, Sophia is conducting a small jazz band of old ladies, who sound very lackluster. She eventually stops them and says they're no longer raising enough money for the clinic. Two other women talk to her about who's paying for lunch, and she says it's her day at the hospital. They realize they've attracted a crowd now that the rain has stopped. With renewed vigor, they launch into a spirited rendition of "When the Saints Go Marching In" and the onlookers happily throw money into their basket.

SOPHIA: Let's see, who's buying? WANDA: Pulse or pressure? SOPHIA: Pressure. ESTHER: 140 over 80. WANDA: 130 over 80. SOPHIA: 120 over 70. Your treat, Esther.

Back at the house (again), the other Girls finish up a pizza, having not really finished any work thus far. Rose keeps trying to get Dorothy and Blanche motivated to do some work and not waste time, which she does by telling a St. Olaf Story about Pigpen "Johansson" who ruined Founder's Day by wasting time. She eventually segues into another story.

At Biscayne General Hospital, Sophia arrives for her shift as a volunteer Sunshine Lady. Her fellow volunteer says her "boyfriend" Sam was looking for her. The elderly Mrs. Leonard approaches and asks if any of the delivered flowers are for her. Sophia quickly divests herself of a task and makes Mrs. Leonard's day by saying all the flowers are for her and letting her wheel the whole cart away. A little boy, the aforementioned Sam, wheels himself into the waiting room to visit Sophia.

Back in the kitchen (yet again), Rose is on her umpteenth St. Olaf Story as they've waited 45 minutes for a cake to bake. Rose worries if Sophia's exhausting herself coming back from the market, and Dorothy talks about her grandmother's high energy levels later in life. The Girls go into the living room to watch Jeopardy and eat their cake. Back at the hospital, Sophia is entertaining Sam and gives him the nectarine.

Sam tells her it doesn't matter if he eats healthy, since they "goofed up [his] blood" with a transfusion and there's no cure. She tells him that there will be some day, and Sam could be the first one. Back at the house, it's nighttime and Rose laments their lazy day. Sophia finally returns home and the other Girls say they took care of "odds and ends" around the house. Dorothy asks her what she did that day.

SOPHIA: What did I do today? What I do everyday: I bought a nectarine.

"Remember the clinic and work hard! Remember your art and be proud! Remember an F-sharp and blow!"

This is the episode specifically that prompted me to write a tribute to Estelle Getty a couple of weeks ago. This is one of only a few Sophia-centric episodes in the whole series, in which Estelle gets the lion's share of the screen time compared with her costars. In Jim Colucci's Golden Girls Forever, the primary theme of the anecdotes about this episode is Estelle's stage fright, and how it would make filming more difficult.

ROSE: Now we agreed we weren't gonna waste time. That'd be a big mistake, something we'd regret for the rest of our lives. DOROTHY: Rose, we're eating pizza, not getting tattoos. ROSE: I just hate the idea of wasting time. I always have. Ever since what happened to my neighbor in St. Olaf-- BLANCHE: Rose, are you about to educate us on the evils of wasting time by telling a long, tedious St. Olaf Story? ROSE: You know a better way? DOROTHY: She has a point, Blanche.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I admire Estelle for doing her best and putting in such good work despite the fear and anxiety that her job gave her. According to the stories Colucci collected, everyone on set tried their best to be patient with her, knowing that Estelle lacked the experience of her costars. One of the ways she tried to mitigate this was by writing down her lines on any paper, prop, or bit of set dressing that wouldn't be in direct view of the camera.

I'm so glad she made the effort, because this episode about what Sophia gets up to on an average day is one of my favorites. Not only does it have a central story about Sophia maintaining an active and satisfying life even at an advanced age -- which is both fun to watch and instructive for anyone who thinks being old means you can't thrive -- it has a contrasting B-plot where the other Girls worry about Sophia's lack of fulfillment in her life while they themselves spend all day lounging around the house.

ABE: It's after 1 o'clock. You're late. SOPHIA: So dock me. ABE: You do this for free. SOPHIA: Then be grateful! Anything happening? ABE: Yeah, three in surgery, two in x-ray . . . *indicates cart of flowers* and you have to deliver these on your break. SOPHIA: In your dreams! I'm a Sunshine Lady, not a Teamster.

Sophia's day out consists of her original stated purpose of buying a nectarine at the market -- while also bullying the employees to take back a fatty lamb chop with a threatened boycott from phony elderly organizations -- conducting a jazz band to raise money for charity at the boardwalk, and volunteering at the hospital and befriending a sick little boy. I would say I hope I'm that active when I'm Sophia's age, but truthfully, I wish I was that active now.

It won't come as a surprise to anyone who knows Sophia's character well, that she's so charitably minded. She may be irascible and even goes out of her way to avoid work, but she spends her entire day making everyone else's better. She brightens Mrs. Leonard up, gives everyone at the boardwalk a good performance, gets her friend $1.17 back for a bad lamb chop, and even keeps Sam's spirits up. I can see why she won the Best Friend of Good Health award back in "The Flu" over her roommates.

ROSE: Whatever happened to [your grandmother]? DOROTHY: She colonized life on Venus. Rose, she was 94 when I was 6. She died, you idiot. ROSE: How did she die? DOROTHY: You know, we're not sure. One night, she left in her wheelchair and she never came back. The next day, the neighborhood kids had a go-kart with two really big back wheels.

Speaking of Sam, I think it's worth mentioning here that there's subtext in his interactions with Sophia that some modern viewers won't pick up on. I sure didn't the first time I saw it, until my mother explained it to me. They don't outright say it, but it's heavily implied that the young man's terminal illness is AIDS -- he says there's no cure, no one's ever beat it, and that he got it because they "goofed up his blood" with a transfusion. Golden Girls will address the HIV/AIDS panic more directly in later episodes, but this is the first time.

As for the B-plot, I appreciate the contrast it offers: Sophia out having a productive day while the other three Girls sit at home and screw around. As much as I admire Sophia, I also think there's nothing wrong with just sitting and having a lazy day. Despite Rose's disgust at the idea of wasting time -- thanks to the apparent laziness of Pigpen "Johansson" -- it's sometimes nice to forgo being constructive in favor of resting up.

MRS. CARP: Excuse me, I'd like to check on my husband Mr. Carp -- prostate surgery? SOPHIA: Nothing yet, but he'll be fine. I went through it myself thirty years ago. MRS. CARP: You had prostate surgery? SOPHIA: What do I look like, a crossdresser? My husband had the surgery. I was the one who went through it.

The best part, to me, is the fact that all three women choose to fuss over Sophia's apparent lack of said constructive activity, while she's out running rings around them. I always wondered a bit why Sophia simply tells them she's out "buying a nectarine" and not what she's actually doing during the day. But it's honestly not their business, and given how protective and smothering Dorothy can be, I can't blame Sophia for keeping it under wraps.

Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose all have their chance to tell silly stories during their lazy day in, with Rose apparently getting in several St. Olaf Stories while their cake is baking. While the cynical side of me wonders if this wasn't an excuse to use some unrelated stories that had been cut from other episodes, it's still fun to watch the women sit around and yarn with no pesky plot to get in the way.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰 (five cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode

After conning a supermarket manager into refunding her friend's lamb chop, Sophia can't help herself:

SOPHIA: Oh listen, how much for the nectarine? MANAGER: Take it. It's on the house. SOPHIA: Oh, we can't do that. It's against the bylaws. MANAGER: Alright, you can pay me. That's 45 cents. SOPHIA: 45 cents for one lousy nectarine? What's inside -- a pit or a pearl? *weighs the bag* This is a 25-cent nectarine. MANAGER: Fine, sold. SOPHIA: Claire, don't stand there like a bump on a pickle. Give the man a quarter. *swans out of the store*

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 2/5

Book blurb: Love can make even the most buttoned-up bluestocking come undone…

London, 1885

A lesbian in a lavender marriage, Jo Smith cuts a dashing figure in pin-striped trousers, working in her bookshop and keeping impolite company. But her hard-earned stability is about to be upended thanks to her husband’s pregnant paramour, who needs medical attention that no reputable doctor will provide.

Enter Dr. Emily Clarke, a tantalizing bluestocking working at a quaint village hospital outside the city. Emily has reservations about getting mixed up in Jo’s scandalous arrangement, but her flustered, heart-racing response to Jo has her agreeing to help despite herself.

There’s a world of difference between Jo’s community of underground clubs and sapphic societies and Emily’s respectable suburbs. Perhaps it’s a gap that even fervent desire can’t bridge.

But for those bold enough to take the risk, who knows what delicious adventures might be in store…

Lucky Lovers of London

Book 1: The Gentleman's Book of Vices Book 2: A Rulebook for Restless Rogues Book 3: A Bluestocking's Guide to Decadence

Review:

A lesbian in a lavender marriage finds herself in a difficult situation when her husband's pregnant paramour needs medical help and the only doctor that will take them is the strict and slightly odd female doctor who keeps drawing her in. It is London, 1885 and Jo Smith is a lesbian in a lavender marriage. She spends her time wearing trousers and running her bookshop, yet this stable life is put into jeopardy when her husband gets his paramour pregnant and she needs medical help, they all know that no reputable doctor will help her... cue Dr. Emily Clarke. Emily is trying to make it as a female doctor in a society that is barely accepting female doctors. She is hesitant to take on Jo's case but can't resist. Despite their rocky start and polar opposite personalities, both Jo and Emily begin to fall for each other as they write letters to one another. Can they find a way to make it work in a society that isn't accepting of queer romances? This is the third book in the series but can absolutely be read as a standalone. I had really high hopes for this one because I liked the other two books but this one unfortunately missed the mark. I really wanted to like this one but it kind of felt meh to be honest. The premise of the book sounds so delightful and fun yet the actual plot and pacing felt a bit off to me. I just couldn't find myself invested or believing in the romance between Jo and Emily. Despite the book missing the mark for me, I do think that if you are looking for a historical sapphic romance with opposites attract, to give this one a go!

Release Date: June 4,2024

Publication/Blog/Outlet: Ash and Books (Tumblr Blog): https://ash-and-books.tumblr.com/

*Thanks Netgalley and Harlequin - Romance | Carina Adores for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[morrisxn02]

{HARRIS DICKINSON, 21, MALE, HE/HIM} Is that EDWARD MORRISON? A JUNIOR originally from MANHATTAN. They’re THE PROUD ELITE on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance. 

tl;dr: eddie responsible, pragmatic, methodic but he is also frustrated that he still hasn’t found his path in life and is too scared to live life the way he wants to without disappointing his family. i feel like, right now, he’s at this crossroads where he wants to be young and find his path and have fun, but he is too scared this will put all the great things he has in jeopardy.

-– the basics:

full name: edward rufus morrison nicknames: ed, eddie, rufus (if you want to annoy him) + whatever your muse desires age: 21 birthday: march 13th, 2002 birthplace: new york city, new york major: computer science + literature gender: cisgender male sexuality: bisexual

stats - pinterest board - playlist - wanted connections

multimedia character inspirations:

henry winter (the secret history), dickie greenleaf (ripley - 2024), julian fromme (these violent delights), art donaldson (challengers), declan lynch and richard gansey iii (the raven cycle/the dreamer trilogy), kendall and shiv roy (succession), logan dellos (westworld), nate archibald (gossip girl), mahdi (blocco 181)

background:

middle child of the morrison family;

grew up as the family's perfect little golden boy;

his parents always deposited in him the expectations of one day taking on the family business;

was always sort of a conflict mediator at home, which is one of the reasons why his parents love him so much;

always enjoyed reading and studying;

didn't have any big issues growing up aside from sporadic ideological conflicts with his parents;

spent a year in france as a part of an exchange program in high school;

personality:

kind of nihilistic;

matured way too early so he kind of just wants to be young and dumb for a while but will not allow himself to be happy bc he feels like being his dad's ideal of a man is more important;

very creative and artistic;

on the outside he's a conformist, on the inside he's super liberal. he refrains from dabbling in politics, though bc as aware as he can be abt his privilege, he would never give up the nice things he has;

roy-siblings coded: he will do anything to impress an unloving parent because there's no drug more powerful than parental validation

can be very practical when he needs to be, but is usually very much the opposite

he is very VERY lost in life, very frustrated, very unhappy, thinks he's trowing his life away and regrets like 75% of his life choices;

he can be a bit selfish and narcissistic;

thinks he's smarter than everyone;

cannot muster up the courage to confront his family about anything so he can often be found looking forlornly at the horizon wondering abt everything his life could have been;

headcanons

fatally allergic to hornets. he WILL die if he gets stung

loves videogames;

kind of an art/history nerd;

annoying film-bro that carries a mubi tote around and has a criterion channel subscription (also hit him up if you want to borrow any criterion collective exclusive releases);

would have been an actor in another life. LOVES shakespeare;

eddie is kind of closeted with his bisexuality, mostly bc he feels like his parents might start looking at him differently (a few ppl know and he doesn't make a point of hiding it but he won't openly label himself as queer, it's a weird thing but you know where i'm going with this right)

also LOVES winter sports like and is an amazing tennis player but doesn't care much about other sports;

mildly near-sighed

slightly allergic to polyester (as per a collective gc decision lmao)

other tropes: princely young man, gentleman snarker, byronic hero.

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER: Most of his life, Greer was like a best friend inside of their home. Someone with whom he shared most of his fondest memories, like summers in the Hamptons, Christmases in the Alps, and Halloweens at Disney World. Yet, when you grow up in a Succession-esque household, there are certain unspoken rules about loyalty and comradery. Siblinghood was always a game – fun, for the most part, but competitive and always marred by the inevitable awareness that there was always a great deal at stake and that one could end up finding himself on the losing side. Luckily, for most of their lives, the Unfavorite gracefully assumed that position – which neither he, nor Greer ever questioned. But Edward knew that there were always boundaries to his relationship with the golden girl, there were secrets to be kept from her, lies to be told to appease her, because he knew – as his twin did – that Greer would gladly throw any of them under a bus coming in at full speed if she knew that would expand her advantage in their parents’ rankings.

HOW THEY EMBODY THEIR SKELETON TROPE: The linen shirts, the tailored suits and the cashmere sweaters attest to his love of all things fine and luxurious. Edward is the stereotypical Barbie of northeastern rich men: his favorite sport is skiing; he loves a good glass of premium aged scotch; and his go-to Holiday getaway is quick trip to Europe. All this privilege makes him a little out of touch with reality. Sometimes he just doesn’t get the so-called “small pleasures of life”. And all this luxury at his full disposal might make him appear a little too self-assured. He doesn’t do it out of malice or hatred of the less privileged, though, he just loves his life too much not to be all-in in it… 

EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES: tennis, sailing, writing club, fencing club

[scribespirare]

sometimes my job is so funny. Im eating on a retiree schedule; 8am, 11am, 4pm. I'm watching the gentleman's tennis championship and mostly understanding it. I even know the competitors. Im getting rly good at Jeopardy and crosswords. The other day I sat down and did a word search for like 30minutes with a client and was totally engrossed by it the whole time

[fortitudina]

sioraiocht asked: ++ (Shilah)

Meet Radulfr Diomedes, Shilah's father.

Background: Radulfr Diomedes was born into lycanthropy, bearing the legacy of a long line of respected werewolf alphas. He earned his position not through birthright, but through a combination of strength, cunning, and a keen understanding of diplomacy. He has faced many challengers and was forged by the fires of adversity. Radulfr takes his responsibility as a leader seriously, knowing the balance between man and beast is a delicate one. His greatest accomplishment is his son, Shilah, whom he has trained to be strong, fair, and wise – capable of leading the pack should the need arise. His goals are to see his pack thrive and to ensure harmony between their hidden world and that of mankind. He does this not just for his pack, but in memory of his late mate, whose death at the hands of hunters has never fully released its grip on his heart.

Personality: Charismatic and level-headed, Radulfr carries himself with an air of authority that demands respect. He is fair but confident, making decisions with a calm certainty and a hint of underlying strength. Despite his diplomatic nature, there is a primal edge to his character that surfaces when his pack or family is in jeopardy.

Appearance: Tall and imposing figure, muscular build, with a distinguished presence. At first glance appears as a well-groomed gentleman, with striking grey hair and a full, neatly-trimmed grey beard. His deep brown eyes have a piercing quality, reflecting wisdom and a lifetime of leadership.

@sioraiocht SEND ++ TO MEET A MEMBER OF MUSE'S FAMILY / ACCEPTING

[hacash]

My dad and I watch Jeopardy every day and even though I've never seen Ted Lasso I know all the Ted Lasso related answers because of you 🤣

I honestly don't know whether to be proud or embarrassed by this revelation but I do hope the Ted Lasso trivia you've gained through osmosis makes you happy!

(I'm also, quite frankly, astounded that I still have followers on here who don't watch Ted Lasso. I just hope seeing the moustachioed gentleman in question and the footballing himbos improves your scrolling experience even a little.)

[donaydonay]

It was fun watching @wilwheaton practically cry with joy when he won the celebrity Jeopardy semifinal. Here’s me looking shellshocked after winning Jeopardy in 2007. Hair and makeup did … something. My skin looks weirdly monochromatic and my hair is INEXPLICABLE. The gentlemen I was playing were much taller than my 5’3” (tallest was 6’7”) and the camera can only pan straight across. So of course, instead of asking the giant to sit, they stood the tiny woman on two shaky fruit crates stacked on top of each other, and I’m not even exaggerating. But I still won enough for a down payment on my house. The late, great Alex Trebek was a true gentleman and unexpectedly funny as hell.

[tvrundownusa]

tvrundown USA 2024.05.17

Friday, May 17th:

(exclusive): The 8 Show (netflix, Korean dramedy, all 8 eps), Maestro in Blue (netflix, season 2 available, all 6 eps), "99" (APrime, Manchester United docuseries, all 3 parts), "Bronx Zoo '90: Crime, Chaos, and Baseball" (Peacock, NY Yankees docuseries, all 3 parts)

(movies): "Thelma the Unicorn" (netflix, animated musical, ~98mins), "Killer Body Count" (TUBI, thriller, ~110mins), "Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever" (Shudder, Danish horror sequel), "Power" (netflix, police documentary, ~90mins), "Mourning in Lod" (Para+, Middle East documentary)

(streaming weekly): Sugar (apple+, season 1 finale), Franklin (apple+, limited series finale), The Big Cigar (apple+, Black Panthers mini-series, first 2 eps), The Chi (Para+), A Gentleman in Moscow (Para+, limited series finale), RuPaul's Drag Race All Stars (Para+, season 9 opener), Untucked (Para+, aftershow season opener), Doctor Who (dsn+, in early primetime)

(original made-for-TV movies): "Coming Home" (HMM, a "Family Practice" mystery, 2hrs)

(hour 1): S.W.A.T. (CBS, season 7 finale), Jeopardy! Masters (ABC, semifinals, 60mins)

(hour 2): Fire Country (CBS, season 2 finale), "Mary & George" (Starz, limited series finale), We're Here (HBO), "100 Days to Indy" (theCW)

(hour 3): Blue Bloods (CBS, midseason finale), Real Time with Bill Maher (HBO)

(hour 4 - latenight): "Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show" (HBO, docuseries finale)