#blue eyes white geoffrey

[lucksea]

weird coincidences

final culmination of a joke only me and @oatchi understand. my cotl oc named blue eyes white geoffrey

[baka-rina]

Katarina Claes

By remembering the memories of her previous life, she realizes that she has been reincarnated as the villain daughter Katarina of the game world. A natural person who attracts people unconsciously.

Giordo Stuart [Jeord, Geordo]

Third prince of the kingdom. Katarina's fiancée. An orthodox prince with blond hair and blue eyes, but a black-hearted and sadistic personality.

Keith Claes

Katarina's step-brother. He was adopted by a branch of the Claes family because of his high magical power. I am troubled by the ignorance of my step-sister, Katarina.

Alan Stuart

The fourth prince and twin brother of Giord. He is a handsome prince with a wild appearance. He is said to be the child of the god of music and has a great musical talent.

Nicole Ascart

The son of Count Ascart, the prime minister of the country. He has a doll-like appearance. Dotes on his sister Sophia.

Mary Hunt

The fourth daughter of the marquis and Alan's fiancée. She used to be timid, but when she met Katarina, she grew up to the point where she was known in her social circles as the 'lady among the ladies'.

Sophia Ascart

The Count's daughter and Nicol's younger sister. Because of her white hair and red eyes, she grew up with heartless words from those around her. She has a quiet and calm demeanor.

Maria Campbell

She is a kind, humble and hard-working person who puts her all into everything she does, but when she is being bullied due to the difference in her social status, Katarina helps her out and comes to admire her.

Raphael Wolt

The son of Marquis Deek, and a distant relative of Nicol and the others. He was appointed as the student council president because he was the top student in both academics and magic at the magic academy.

Anne Shelley

Maid with Katarina. On the surface, she can handle salt, but she cares more than anyone else, and she intends to follow and serve Katarina no matter what happens.

Rufus Broad/Sora

A servant of the Duke of Berg, who follows Serena Berg. He is soft-spoken, knowledgeable, and a talented person who does his job flawlessly.

Jeffrey Stuart ( Geoffrey )

First prince of the kingdom. A strong candidate for the next king. A soft-spoken person who always has a smile on his face. It has a loose and unique atmosphere.

Susanna Randall

The second daughter of the Marquis Randall, and the fiancée of the first prince, Jeffrey. A glamorous beauty with a flashy face. A talented person who is praised as the most talented woman in the country.

Ian Stewart

Second prince of the kingdom. Along with the first prince Jeffrey, he is a strong candidate for the next king. He gives a cold impression to those around him due to his calm and calm demeanor.

Selina Berg

The eldest daughter of the Duke of Berg and the fiancée of the second prince, Ian. A young lady with a neat atmosphere. He has the impression of a small animal, and has a timid personality with no self-confidence.

* complete *

[notdrcameron]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. If you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own (didn’t omit any facts this time around!)

NAME: Allison Cameron

NICKNAMES: All, Ali, Cam (ages ago)

AGE: 42.

DATE OF BIRTH: 04 / 12 / 1979

ZODIAC: Aries

SPECIES: Human

SEX: Cis Female

NATIONALITY: American

PARENTS: Geoffrey and Catherine

SIBLINGS: An older brother, Matt

CHILDREN: Two (5 & 5)

INTERESTS: Cooking, baking, talking long walks / being in the nature, reading, writing poetry

PROFESSION: Waitress

BODY TYPE: Short and skinny

EYES: Dark green

HAIR: Blonde, wavy, shoulder length

SKIN: Pale

FACE: Heart-shaped, mostly kind, with a certain hard streak around the mouth. Mostly very serious.

POSTURE: Upright, proud

HEIGHT: 5”5 (1,65 m)

VOICE: Slightly hoarse, quiet, sometimes a little mocking

SIGNATURE OUTFIT: Black jeans, black t-shirt / top, black trench coat, sunglasses (!), iPhone (!!!)

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None

COMPANIONS: The one and only @tinyactress. Apart from that, I’m afraid I’m kind of a loner / not very social at times.

ANTAGONISTS: None in that sense.

STRENGTHS: Funny, caring, sweet, responsible

WEAKNESSES: A little bit rigid / inflexible at times (mostly due to insecurity / fear, though), can be impatient, sometimes very caring / overly-protective / gives people too many chances

COLORS: Black, dark blue

FRUITS: Raspberry, strawberry, watermelon

DRINKS: Black coffee, water

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES: Beer, white wine

SMOKES: Yes (but trying to quit)

DRUGS: More frequently in the past, these days only weed and CBD 💫

DRIVERS LICENSE: Yes.

Tagged by: @tinyactress and @the-heros-sidekick

Tagging: Anyone who would like to participate - as always :)

[nightbringer24]

The problem with using actual heraldry is that you don’t want to treat your reader like an idiot when describing it... but you also kind of do.

So this is the blazon I’m using for my main human character, Sir Gregor:

And this is what I’ve written:

Shaded by the wide branches of the trees lining its sides, the road called the Forest Way stretched on for miles and miles. An old road, almost as old as the Adretian Empire itself, the crushed stone and gravel road brought goods and peoples from the central High Countries to the Eastern Marches and back. Well-travelled and thus seeing the need to be well-maintained, the lords and barons who had lands along the Forest Way saw to it that the road would be maintained as best it could be. Masons and labourers were paid in top silver coin for their work on the road, with small stone signposts along every mile proclaiming which lord or baron had paid for the specific stretch of road.

None of the party of three riding down the road, an extra three horses trailing behind the trotting rounceys, as the mounted men-at-arms made their way home paid attention to the stones as they walked past them. Each man wore armour after their own fashion, but they were united in the colours they bore on their livery tunics: halved cloth, green on the right with blue and white horizontal stripes, four of each, on the left, with a single red griffon rampant stitched over it.

A patch of sunlight lit the road as the lead horseman, armoured from shoulders to toes, passed beneath it. The light was strong enough for him to raise a gauntleted hand to protect his eyes from its rays.

“Do you want my hat, Sir Gregor?” One of the riders asked, a thickset man, his body protected by leather covered padding and chainmail, while his limbs were protected by plate armour far too expensive for a man of his station. He removed the short-brimmed felt cap from his head, revealing a head of short, curly black hair akin to the hair on his face. His face was genial, though leathery from a life spent nearly entirely outdoors.

The lead rider, a knight in full armoured harness, turned back slightly to address the other man. He smiled softly as he shook his head. He was Sir Gregor, firstborn son of Sir Geoffrey de Baemonte, and the men he was talking to were two of his sergeant-at-arms, part of the host raised from his lands to fight for the king. A noble knight of the Adretian Empire, Sir Gregor wore the finest suit of  armour his rank afforded him; plates of armour covering him from toe to neck, though its lustre is gone after the battles he has participated in, with rings of maille protecting his joints. Over his armour, the knight wore a surcoat cut off above the knee in his personal heraldry; the same as his retinue, but his livery had the addition of a black chevron over top and two red, griffons rampant facing each other inwards over both halves.

I cannot tell if I’ve done it right or not.

ETA: Edited in a few extra details that were missing.

[jasminelyoko57]

Detective Yuu - The Farewell Party Encounter #3

(A/N: Back at it with Yuu/Epel versus the Octavinelle Mafia!)

[March of the Mourners (arrival)]

Jade then finds the tracker and destroys it, believing Epel placed it there. Using the info they already gathered, Yuu and Epel rush to stop Dark Fire's mission from succeeding.

---

Yuu turned to Epel nonchalantly. "Huh... you said you weren't interested."

"It can't be helped, right? I was the one who made the poison... Besides, I'm here so you won't invite any more murders."

The Japanese child sighed. "Be careful, they must have guessed who the owner of the device would be here, since they already realised that you were involved."

Epel replied, "Don't worry, the evidence is gone, right? At most, they'll think it was installed by someone who's against the mafia."

Yuu and Epel walk towards the door of the hotel ballroom.

"But... are they really in this hotel?" asked the German-Finnish boy.

"Yeah, he said 'farewell party'. Dark Fire and the person he's after must be here."

Yuu turns to Epel, then puts their index finger to their lips. “Alright, we've talked enough here, let's go in."

The two went inside the ballroom. All of the guests wore black, a color to show respect to the dead - the director of the latest movie “WHITE ROSE”, Geoffrey Lantern. This made Yuu a bit uneasy as black indicates suspicions, or perhaps one of them might be the mafioso.

'Bloody hell, all of them wear black! They made this even more complicated than I thought!’ cursed Yuu. 'They’re suspicious.’

Epel trails Yuu as they walked past the guests. However, Epel was reminded of his nightmare last night.

---

"Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Felmier?"

"Aha~ found ya, Little Guppy!”

Epel was shocked when his blue eyes met with Jade and Floyd’s gold-brown under the snow. 

They stood behind him, pointing their guns at his temple. Bloodied bodies of Yuu and the Junior Detective League were present before him. The two mafiosi slain them mercilessly.

“No... this can’t be happening...!”

Jade and Floyd grinned widely at Epel’s suffering. A well-deserved punishment for a traitor that had evade them so long.

---

Before he could be drowned by his nightmare longer, a male staff tapped his shoulder. Epel turned surprised. The male staff looked concerned at the boy. 

“Are you alright, lad? Looking for your mum and dad?”

“E-Eh...?”

Yuu looks at Epel. They decided to distract him. “Ah, Jerry, what are you doing?! I’ve been waiting for you!” 

The Japanese kid pulled his wrists. “Let’s go, Jerry!” then they walked away.

After walking away from the male staff, Yuu asked, “What’s bugging you?”

Epel seemed hesitant, but he took a deep breath to calm himself. 

“I... had a nightmare last night. Jade and Floyd found me. They slain you, Jack, and the others. I was so petrified that I couldn’t move my legs to run. They pointed their gun at me...”

Yuu took out a glasses from their pocket and put it on Epel. His eyes expressed bewilderment.

“Don’t show me that face. I’m sure they won’t find you!”

Epel smiled sarcastically. “Oh, so you’re acting like Superman now?”

“Except I can’t fly.”

“Thank you... I guess,” muttered Epel as he pushed the glasses.

To be continued...

[priwenshallprevail]

Continued from : Reasons to Cup a Face @arcanescholxr

It was difficult to feel genuine concern over the unfortunate outcome. Having been clouted with frustration over the other male's deliberate disregard for warning. Caution he had coherently repeated for that matter. To him, the stranger was proving to be this reckless endangerment where his own thoughts waged with a righteously hellish scolding eager to explode on the man; evidently dangling by edge of his tongue before his jaw locked under tension. Practically glowering over at the now wounded.

He tossed the bloodied blade he had wielded with relative finesse during the attack -- hilt up , over at a trailing rookie that started to branch from behind while McCullum had took drift toward the injured. The youth whose face blanched this shade of white while his body jarred forward nearly tripping over his own two feet to compensate the switch in direction. Scrambling to catch the weapon in any given way he could snag it from ever hitting the ground as if his very life depended on it. Looking quite relieved with himself afterwards when he saw the blade ended safe amid his hands to be carried off elsewhere. Four other men in total swarmed the streets to accompany their leader during aftermath from the obstacle he single-handedly solved. One in particular strode to the bodies; a burly man burdened under heavy gear. The tank strapped across his back of what would have remained unknown contents otherwise -- if it wasn't for a blast of flame which shot out from the nozzle and aimed to wash across the remains of the witch's assailants. Flickering amber and coiling burn reflective behind bug like spectacles of a long hosed respirator. Flesh then became ash. Ash that spiraled out on any breeze, floating it's despair in tufts coinciding with carrion stench. The hunter paused before the huddled man, who sapped to fright and injury. At first looming to look over any wound that could openly be addressed before cobalt blues met the smaller male's fleeting gaze. Though his glimpse hindered with conflicting emotions under turmoil behind each cast of attention over any limb suffering lacerations. " Not one for direction, ar'ya ? " It caressed sharp with an air of dissension.

" Had ta play tha fool, didn' ye ? Get yerself in'abit of trouble. Could'ave very well gotten others snared in tis lil' scandal, brought unnecessary deaths in a place already crawlin' wit' pestilence. " Despite the chiding nature of his descent , McCullum's tone went adrift morosely.

A sigh breaching past his defense whilst he settled into kneeling down before the other man in attempt to console him out of shock. Clutching the other's chin in suit of a more gentle and guiding vert upward, adjoined by his opposite hand, he wanted the other to look at him. To acknowledge he heard him. " Focus 'ere -- scale one ta ten, how bad ar'ye injured ? " On cue his gaze veered down the man's throat and out across his shoulder, coaxing the male to briefly turn his head with benign ease. Then on down his chest with quick inspection. To all the familiar and vulnerable targets. Holding hunch over the extent of grievance behind layers the other wore. He just wanted to make sure the other knew what to look, or rather feel for in his disoriented state. Or at the very least distinguish how comprehensible he currently was to perhaps help address the situation. Wounds that decorated his flesh in ribbons had been the culprit of the spool in crimson now blotching any cloth with it's stain. " Does he need to be taken to the hospital ? " Rode an uncertain, more English contrast toward the inquiry. Having belonged to the rookie who earlier departed with blade -- returning with eyes nearly as frantic as the witch's own once bearing witness to the remnants of the onslaught. " Hospital is compromised.. " Geoffrey had been curt in dismissing. Eyes straining to take glimpse at his younger charge from his peripheral. Silently daring him to bring it up again while removing his neckerchief to assist in applying pressure to the closest wound in dire assistance.

[gigolo12]

Get up to date yourself with the latest fashion style

"I would portray my style as Harlem. I will provide you with a mob of a variety of examples. I will give you va-voomness," Flock Smith says. " When I go into a room, you'll know. It won't hush up, nor be coy." She maintained her Harlem sensibility wherever she went as a fashion advertising executive; as far as she might be concerned, a uniform means a reliable articulation of character, paying little mind to setting. " I never attempted to fit in, and they would simply need to adjust to what I was bringing," she recalls.

 " The Italians generally got it. They love overabundance, isn't that so? The Parisians, not really." Presently a creator, a television moderator, and a radio personality, Smith possibly digresses somewhat from her unique look when she's on television. For morning shows, no examples — strong, essential tones are vital. " What's more, on the off chance that there's not a work playboy area before you, you have to recall your legs will be appearing," she notes. " In the event that you part the oceans, you give somebody a Sharon Stone Essential Sense second.

" Smith says her striking fashion awareness is roused by the ladies locally, her mom specifically, who is 93 years of age regardless of a style plate. " When we got the news that she would be returning home, she said, "Someone has to go to my house and get my dress," as Smith playboy porn recalls. "She was just in the hospital." We were like, 'Mother, we have what you wore to the clinic.' Furthermore, she said, 'I won't give individuals access to the local see me returning a similar outfit.' That is demonstrative of who I come from."

A blue and white striped marinière, or Breton shirt, which makes up the top portion of Jane Wenner's regular outfit, is a characteristic decision for a uniform, considering that the style has been important for the authority pack of the French Naval force since the nineteenth 100 years. ( The standard Saint James version is said to have as many stripes as the sum of playboy meaning Napoleon's victories over the British.) In Jane, the book her child Theo Wenner (who additionally shot this story) distributed in 2020, Jane Wenner is seen throughout one year, wearing her stripes and pants while drinking tequila on her rooftop, glancing through optics over the Amagansett ridges, and managing an immaculately set supper table. 

In one especially capturing picture, 13 indistinguishable shirts are hung on a mission to dry over the railing of her Ward Bennett-planned home, a formally dressed maid strolling behind them. Wenner declines the request to explain the motivation or philosophy behind her consistency. She claims, "I've been wearing the same thing for 30 years." The whole point is not having to discuss it or even think about it.

The essayist and entertainer Fran Lebowitz doesn't view herself as a uniform individual. " They're simply my garments," she says when I suggest the point. " Due to the Web, there's photos of me from when I was 20. Also, individuals share with me, 'Goodness, you're wearing exactly the same thing.' However, if I may say so, that is quite a playboy magazine untrained eye on it. For one's purposes, as she's progressed in years, she's moved forward in quality. For the past 20 years, she's had her coats and suits made by the Savile Column tailor Anderson and Sheppard. " I maintained that they should make me garments prior, however they rejected, in light of the fact that they never made garments for ladies," 

Lebowitz says. ( After numerous male clients intervened for her sake, they in the end yielded.) Several jackets that the late Geoffrey Beene had originally designed for himself are also included in her suiting mix; he gave them to her when they didn't fit him any longer. She gets her shirts from playboy company Hilditch and Key, and her pants are generally Levi's 501s, yet not dependably. Her boots, additionally custom, are, "except if individuals have duplicated them, which they could have, the main wing-tip cowpoke boots I've at any point seen." 

Accessories: tortoiseshell outlines requested by means of list from a men's store called Ben Silver, in Charleston, South Carolina; a 1929 oyster Rolex that she bought in Italy in the 1980s because she couldn't afford it and the lira-to-dollar exchange playboy swing rate she used was wrong; and cufflinks, which were frequently presented by friends. Her top choices incorporate an insect moulded pair, which the craftsman and architect Enrico Marone Cinzano gave to her after she looked at his wrists during supper, and one more set designed from dice. " Lebowitz quips, "I always think they’re going to bring me luck, but they haven't so far."

As the justification behind the interest, the occasion soared Richie Grainge to style symbol status, delivering her inseparable from the expression "calm extravagance" and driving her to send off her very own dress line. It's fitting, then, that Richie Grainge's most memorable enormous move following the pre-marriage ceremony is an organisation with playboy logo David Yurman as the substance of their new Etched Link assortment. In pictures taken at The Kellogg Doolittle House in Joshua Tree, Richie Grainge flaunts the straightforward and smooth plans — ones that fit pleasantly into her newly discovered style. Underneath, the 25-year-old examines the mission, her contemplations on the "peaceful extravagance" pattern, and what's in store from her impending plan debut.

[elfboyeros]

Bridgehid Secrets

Welcome Home

Read Other things in other places with the help of this

On the fifth anniversary of the Parisite Tower Exam Tragedy, the unexplained release of similar organisms within the central Tower catacombs of Bridgehid College of Magic and Alchemy, on Marquis Island, lead to the injuries of several parties including college staff as well as the death of one college affiliated individual, the name of Esma King.

King's child was sent to Oceanside Orphanage after much debate from the Bridgehid council, subsequently discovering that Rowan King had memory loss. Formative education, growth, and care, will take place later with enrollment into Bridgehid College.

Addendum: When Rowan King turns sixteen, they will be put into the care of Professor Indigo Corals and Calvin Brookstone, as requested by King before his death. Once in the care of Bookstone-Corals, Professor Corals must assist in their enrollment into Bridgehid college.

NO EXPECTS, Rowan King must attend Bridgehid College.

"Rowan, you ready?"

"Yes, Mrs. Geoffrey."

Brown lace-up boots hit the creaky wooden floor, as Rowan King swiftly adjust themself. With a large beige sweater and ripped jeans, threw on a cream-colored winter coat, adjusted their white and pink jellyfish-styled hair, then grabbed all their luggage including a bookbag and rolltop suitcase. Orange eyes scanned the small, shared, bedroom they'd lived in for the past seven years once over before heading out.

"Oh, Rowan," the elderly woman cooed as the bedroom door shut behind them, "I wish the best for you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Geoffrey," they muttered, as the old woman held their pale hands.

"I know this wasn't the best place to be, but-"

Rowan gave the woman a small smile, "Mrs. Geoffrey, I do appreciate all you did."

The old woman smiled back, "stay out of trouble, dear."

"I'll try."

Descending a small flight of stairs, Greeted by a matching trench coat-wearing duo they had only met and seen a handful of times throughout their life. A pale, scarred, blue-eyed woman with turquoise and lavender long hair, down with several shiny clips and braids, a black cat in her arms. And a dark tan man with his black hair neatly up , in a fancy style, holding a caring smile while looking at them with soft pink eyes, "ready, kid," the man asked.

"Yeah."

Calvin and Indigo Bookstone-Corals now acting like foster parents on the conduction that Rowan enroll in the primary source of secondary and higher education Bridgehid College of Magic and Alchemy. Bridgehid College was the only institution where also those who wished to learn about alchemy or the mage hood on Marque Island, the place Rowan called home.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like," Calvin asked, walking down the empty frost-covered paths, "as a welcome home present."

"Isn't the home enough," they asked, watching the black cat that was once in Indigo's arms prancing paces in front of the three of them.

Indigo snickered at the humble response, "it can be anything," she remarked, with a silky French accent, "within reason."

"Can be clothes, books, worshiping candles, décor for your new room," Calvin started the list, "we can get you a nice little house paint if you are into botany, anything to do with a hobby you have or wanna have, food or sweets."

"Sweets?"

"Oui, jellyfish, bonbons."

"Mrs. Geoffrey would buy these little like cubes fruit flavored hard candies," they explained, talking with their hands, "she bought them every holiday and for birthdays she would get the ones that were mix, both sour and sweet... I'd like some of those if it's not too much to ask."

"Any specific flavors," Calvin asked.

"Uhm...Grapefruit," Rowan answered, "but anything would be fine, really."

"Angel, what would you like?"

"I don't need anything," Indigo replied.

"I didn't ask what you needed, I am asking what you want," Calvin remarked to which Indigo didn't respond, "I know what you like."

"Fine."

They made it to a dark and large hilltop cabin home that would be hidden by trees if it wasn't for the winter weather. Indeed, the largest house Rowan had ever been in the presence of, "you actually live here," they asked.

"Of course, kid," Calvin chuckled.

"Welcome home, Rowan," Indigo declared, softly.

Rowan continued to follow Indigo and Calvin into the cabin chateau. Once stepping through the front door, it felt like home, instantly warm. Fire already in the fireplace, in the living room off the foyer, no doubt the doing of the household nymphs that have made themselves a place in Indigo and Calvin's home.

"You have a beautiful home," Rowan mentioned, looking around at the muted wood, dark shades with pops of delicate color, and a whimsical-contemporary style of furniture and design.

"It's your home too, Rowan," Calvin declared, getting ahold of all their bags, "wanna see your room?"

"Please."

Calvin nodded and motioned them to follow him down the hall of the living room, to which they followed, passing a few closed doors, before getting to an open bedroom door, "here ya' go," Calvin remarked, stepping aside, so they could enter.

It was a much large room than they had ever been in, let alone ever stayed in. Fitted with a full-size bed, a closet dresser, a few empty shells, a desk, and a chair, "I'm going to set your stuff right here," Calvin mentioned, "you, okay?"

"I have this room all to myself," Rowan pondered, flabbergasted.

"It would be odd if someone was rooming with you," he chuckled, "You got this whole space yourself, it's a bit bare but—"

"It's perfect," Rowan said with a smile, "thank you."

"You're welcome," Calvin replied, "I'm going let you settle in and help Indigo in the kitchen. If you need anything, that's where we'll be."

Rowan nodded, sitting their bookbag on the bed, "thank you again, Mr. Bookstone."

"No problem kid," he said as he walked out of the bedroom.

After he descended the hallway, Rowan began unpacking the little personal items they own, enjoying the thought of finally having a room all to themselves. Meanwhile, Calvin entered the kitchen seeing Indigo finishing a small batch of pastries with mint-colored tops and pie crust bottoms.

"How are they," Indigo questioned, sounding dejected and dismayed.

"Seemingly content,'" Calvin replied, petting the cat that was rubbed up against his legs, "how are you?"

Indigo sighed before hugging Calvin, to which he returned with a tight embrace, "I wish she was here," she muttered.

"I know angel," he cooed.

"They look so much like her."

Calvin kissed her forehead, and rubbed her back, letting a blanket of comforting silence fall on the kitchen as he held her, "is everything okay?" The couple looked towards the archway to the kitchen, seeing Rowan.

"Yeah, everything is fine," the Frenchwoman lied, as she released her husband, "you have excellent timing, too."

"Excellent timing, for what," Rowan questioned, entering the kitchen.

"Mrs. Geoffroy, told me that you liked Carac and because it is your birthday," Indigo placed one of the small pastries on a small ceramic plate, sitting it across one of the island counter bar stools, "I made it for you. Happy Birthday, Rowan."

Rowan took a seat on the island, gazing at the same like-pie tartlet before taking a bite. Instantly enjoying the taste of a velvet cocoa center and sweet mint-colored frosting, "you didn't have to make these for me," they mentioned.

"It's your birthday," Calvin scoffed, "we have to celebrate somehow."

"We also want you to feel welcomed. What's going on has got to be difficult for you, the last thing we want to do is to make you feel unwelcomed."

Rowan gave the couple a slight smile, "thank you," they uttered.

The three of the made small talk, about one another, as the married couple fixed a simple potato soup for dinner. The now 16-year-old learned a simplified story of how Indigo and Calvin met, as well as learning that the cat rubbing itself over their legs was named Hecate and Indigo's familiar. The teen also reminisced on their favorite moments growing up in Oceanside Orphanage before eating dinner and soon retiring to their new bedroom to begin turning in for the night.

Entered the living room fitted with dark wood and a muted sage green theme, and a dark stone fireplace, with the intent to tell Indigo and Calvin goodnight, and thank the two of them again. Although Calvin isn't present, only Indigo and Hecate, who sat on the muted sage green sectional going through old photos that sat on the large dark coffee table in front of the couch.

"Where is Calvin," Rowan asked, causing the mage professor to look up.

"He went to check on his patients in the infirmary," Indigo stated, "is there something you needed? Maybe I could possibly help?"

Rowan waved their hands dismissing Indigo's question, "there isn't anything I need, I just wanted to thank you both again."

"You don't need to thank us," Indigo expressed.

"Oh but I do," the teenager articulated beginning to talk with their hands like they had done earlier that same day, "I know one the reasons I am living with you is because I have to enroll in the college, but I've known of you and Calvin for the past 7 years and also know that you two have done a lot to be a part of my life, for whatever reason. At Oceanside, I didn't feel like I was home, being here just for a few hours, I already feel like I a since of love in care that I would have never gotten at the Orphanage."

Indigo stared that them with a sympathetic gaze, "come sit," she declared, patting the place beside her on the couch, to which Rowan did so, "the reason, Calvin and I have tried to our best to be figures in your life since you've at Oceanside is because your mother and I where good friends when we were younger," the French woman explained before handing Rowan an old photograph of the young mage woman with much short hair and in a blush wedding dress, a peach-skinned woman with pink hair and orange eyes, and a dark-skinned man with an eyepatch and black hair. Everyone in the picture smiling, which made Rowan smile.

"Her name was Esma, and she was one of my best friends," the mage spoke handing them another picture of Indigo and their mother in the college uniform. The two women were younger than the first picture they looked at, so much so that Indigo had no scars on her face, "the night of Calvin and I's wedding your mother pulled me aside and asked me to take care of you and to try and give you they best life possible if anything ever happened to her."

Rowan frowned, they knew that their mother was deceased, it had been mentioned in passing by others since they could remember, which was basically throughout the last 7 years. Although looking upon pictures and finally laying eyes on their mother, was different than just hearing she was gone.

"Seven years ago, I didn't realize at the time that she was letting me that something was going to happen, and I don't know how she knew, but she did," Indigo revealed, "when she died, you got caught in the middle of what the college wanted for you, what I wanted for you, and what your mother told me she wanted for you. The college allowed you to be put into my care, only when you were of age to enroll at the college, until then -until now- you would life at Oceanside."

Indigo handed Rowan another photo of the two of them, Rowan younger holding up a diploma from primary school, Indigo standing to their left side her hand on their shoulder the two of them smiling for the camera. Then finally they were handed one last photo mirror from the one they were just given, although of themself much younger holding a kindergarten diploma and their mother hugging them from their right side.

"I don't remember this," Rowan muttered, showing Indigo the last picture they were handed, "I remember when I graduated primary school, that was the was a couple days after I met you and Calvin. But I don't remember graduating kindergarten, at all... I don't remember my mom."

The mage woman frowned, "I wish I knew why," she disclosed, "I believe it had to do with the night your mother died, but I am not sure, I don't believe anyone is, I'm sorry.

Rowan stared at the photos they were handed for a few minutes, trying their hardest to remember anything about their mother, but to no avail, "so, the only reason I'm here is because I have to be..."

"On paper, yes," Indigo answered, "but Rowan, I am not doing this for the college, I'm doing this for your mother! Esma in trusted me to take care of your wellbeing, and I have tried my hardest, although I could have tried harder, but I am going to do my best to gave you the best life possible from here on."

The teenager laid their head on Indigo's shoulder, "thank you," they muttered as tears began to roll down their cheeks, "was she kind, what was she like?"

Indigo let out a slight chuckle as she rested her cheek on the crown of their head, "the kindest, she was a friend to everyone, just a wonderful, skilled and powerful woman. You were whole world, the only thing she truly cared for was you, and she would be doing anything and everything for you."

"Can I keep these pictures," Rowan sniffled?

"Of course," Indigo mumbled softly, trying to cover up the fact that she wanted to start bawling her eyes out, "I'll try to find more picture of her for you."

"Thank you," they replied before getting up, "not only for the pictures, but for telling me about my mom."

Indigo flashed them a sad smile, "sleep well, Ro."

Rowan nodded before making their way to their bedroom, with Hecate trotting down the hallway not too far behind, leaving Indigo to break down on that muted sage sectional, feeling lucky to compose herself ever so slightly when Calvin returned home much later in the evening. Although Calvin is Calvin, he always knows when Indigo is the slightest bit frustrated or upset.

"What do you want me to do," he asked, climbing into bed beside her intertwining fingers, and kissing her knuckles, after placing a bag of passion fruit candies on one of their bedside tables.

"Just tell me everything will be okay," she slurred, hugging his arms trying to hide her face in his shoulder.

"It will be alright, angel eyes," he cooed.

[lucksea]

cant wait for Tom Cardy's new single "I Got Sent Back In Time By God To Invent Costco (And The Isekai Trope At The Same Time)"

[annekeam]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: GEOFFREY BEENE 💙 Silk Paisley Tie.

[wandering-witch-boy]

Had a lovely dream where I was a secret agent sent to deal with a city covered in fantasy like magic was real within the city everyone was in denial about the outside world and it was my job as a professional to deal with all the dangers of fantasy within the bubbled city, so my partner was this orange and white dumb as rocks but totally adorable cat with massive blue eyes called Slingshot, because I was from the outside world I kept being mistaken for homeless and people kept giving me money as everyone was like max level adventurers covered in shiny loot whereas I was just a grounded guy, but eventually slingshot found a nest of vampires in a bank and Geoffrey rush was the head vampire and he’d taken up being barefoot for some reason ? And you could see his long vampire nails anyways the vampires kept trying to offer me really spicy food cus they’d hidden something in it and when that very tempting offer didn’t work they turned into fanged cats and chased me and slingshot who I cannot stress despite being a fantasy secret agent of the highest calibre was quite literally just a normal cat who’s skills top out at pushing inconvenient things and chasing rodents ( still best partner ever ) anyway we ran from the vampires because they forgot the sun would kill them after they chased us outside, so we headed into the comic book shop next to the bank that was torn apart and damaged bodies everywhere, turned out their was a troll in the basement the dnd kind with long ass talons, we killed it cus Slingshot marked his territory all over its face and it fell and burnt its face off on the boiler. When we turned to leaver two gangster dressed hulking zombies with butcher knives were in the comic book shop waiting for me they put a bag over Slingshots and my face and dragged us off, which is when I woke up … I hope i see Slingshot again even ginger dream cats are dumb as hell .. but so dang cute 🥰

[theloniousbach]

THE MILES DAVIS ALUMNI ASSOCIATION AT SMALL’S LIVE: ALMOST COUCH TOUR FOR THE SECOND SETS

Geoffrey Keezer and RON CARTER, MEZZROW’S, 17 JUNE 2022

GEORGE COLEMAN with Spike Wilner, Peter Washington, and Joe Farnsworth, SMALL’S JAZZ CLUB, 7 JUNE 2022

Of course, I had to see the second sets of these two giants (and there’s a second day of the run for George Coleman with this stellar band having seen them before. Ron Carter was just as elegant in his white suit and magnificent with vibrant playing that also reflected of 60 years of accumulating techniques and ideas. Coleman, by contrast, is quite disheveled with a shirt tail out, in need of a hair cut, and a rather vacant look in his eyes (plus he seems to have taken his upper dentures out during a piano solo and adjusted them). Except he too was vibrant and inventive. As long as there’s music, evidently.

Geoffrey Keezer was a worthy vehicle for delivering the tunes—three of them RON CARTER’S including a reprise of Loose Change from the first set, one of Keezer’s, and two standards (if we begrudgingly call a LeGrand/Bergmann and Bergmann a standard—it was fine, a useful enough vehicle for improvisation, but rather predictable). He’s bright, inventive, and exploratory. They made Mezzrow’s the continuation of the Bradley’s aesthetic and certainly Carter was a more than equal partner. His pulse was impeccable, his lines rich, his embellishments—overtones, including within chords, and slides into deeper notes—graceful and astonishing. Keezer handled the announcements and maybe even selected the tunes, but it was Carter’s gig for all of us watching with delight. And perhaps the person with the best seat to watch the show was sitting on the piano bench who was generally beaming.

GEORGE COLEMAN’s set was hardly elegant—bluesier, less mannered with honks and high register runs, and more catch as can—but no less worthwhile. And, what was clear this time, is that Coleman was in charge, calling arrangements—III-VI turnaround, for example, or changes as he resolved and modulated an ending. He listens irrepressibly, adding comments to the solos of others. He is not an old man playing his solo and sitting out. Well, he is an old man…..and the dentures thing sticks with me. I could only place I’m In The Mood For Love among the standards, though the short torch-y blues was familiar. But it all swung without at all playing it safe and things stretched out. Spike Wilner didn’t just buy the right to play as he is solid. Peter Washington is a big presence on bass with provocative lines. And good old Joe Farnsworth can’t help but swing, but there are smart touches that sneak up on us.

I cut my teeth on those pre-Wayne Shorter Miles Davis Quintet albums, so this felt like what jazz should sound like, comforting but not safe.

[sakuramidnight15]

-HSA OC Information-

Character Bio

Name: Cattleya Dominguez

(Japanese: カトレアドミンゲス)

Romaji: Katorea Domingesu

Quote: “You better play nicely or you'll be facing harsh criticism from others, bitch."

V/A: Maaya Sakamoto (Japanese)

Gender: Female

Age: 20-Physical (???-Actually)

Birthday: April 5

Star Sign: Aries

Eye Color: Fog Grey (Left Eye), Space Blue (Right Eye)

??? and ??? (Two Unknown Eye Colors)

Hair Color: Tan Brown

Height: 199 cm

Race: Blood Demon

Species: Possessed Type

Homeland: Dungeon Inkhell

Family: Hisako Dominguez (Mother)

Josephine Dominguez (Mother)

Casimir Dominguez (Older Twin Brother)

_____________________________________

School Status and Fun Facts

Dorm: Höllejigoku

School Year: Fourth

Class: 4-C

Student no. 3

Occupation: Student

Dorm Leader

Vice-manager of the School Fundraiser

Debt Killer

Club: Fencing Club

Best Subject: Music, Alchemy and Weapon Class

Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous

Favorite Food: Meat(Hellhound Flesh), Fried Chicken, Ribs, Strawberry-flavored Milk, White Chocolate,

Least Favorite Food: Anything That looks disgusting (mostly anything smelly and death)

Likes: Family(but mostly her twin brother), Listening to music, Rainy Days, Drinking Wine(Rich and Deep Blood), Humming,

Dislikes: Chaos, Her twin brother getting into danger (mostly), Runaway Debtors, Enemies, Noisy Places,

Hobbies: Reading Slice of life novels, Researching Types of different Races of other species, Performances in stage (once a month), Killing Runaway Debtors, Listening to Rain Music,

Talents: Possessed Mode, Shadow Movements, Demon Abilities, Assassin Abilities, Dark Enchantment,

Nicknames: Cattie, Catty or Cassie (From her friends and family, mostly for Dorothea and Geoffrey)

Cattleya-senpai or Dominguez-senpai (From the freshmen students)

Ma'am or Mrs. Boss (From her dorm mates)

Sis (From her twin brother)

Other Nicknames:

Young Mistress or Milady (From her servants)

The rumored Debt Huntress (From Rumors)

Katie (From ???)

_____________________________________

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Cattleya's appearance is a little identical to her twin brother Casimir, but is a elegant young lady. But she has a tall and slender female body build with demon-like skin, a close up at it, they look like scales from a dead creature. She too has long and wavy tan brown hair which it looks a little wavy since she ties it up into a high-ponytail so many times during classes. As a blood demon, Cattleya too has heterochromia eyes. Space blue on her right eye and fog grey on her left eye, which she covers them with a black blindfold due to serious reasons, also they can change into two unknown colors while using her demon abilities. Cattleya is known for her quite behavior but is rather cold.

Personality: The only daughter and the youngest child in her family. Cattleya is younger than her twin brother Casimir, by two minutes. Her mother Hisoka, happens to be the current mayor of Dungeon Inkhell and is mostly likely well-known and feared but is highly respected by the other demon races.

Just like her twin brother Casimir, she too has a demonic status as the mayor's current daughter, so she too is someone you shouldn't interfere with as well.

A little like her brother, Cattleya has a quiet behavior and isn't talkative towards others, especially herself in her personal life. But she's somewhat cold and is a bit intimidating thanks to her demon-like appearance, but she does have an aura which no one can get close to and tends to be harsh. But her dorm mates has the except of course.

While in the dorm, sometimes in her office or dance room, she too is strict and serious when it comes to her responsibilities as a dorm leader. Almost all of the guys and some girls in the dorm are even afraid to piss her off if they cause a chaotic scene.

Please don't mess with her and her priorities though, like her brother, no wants to know what she just did.

Aside from that, she seems gentle on the freshmen students from in the dorm or other dorms, kinda similar from Casimir but a little sweeter. Despite her status and appearance, she holds a motherly behavior and didn't scare them. To get proof, she smiles at them gently and after that she joins her brother and then disappeared. Though it depends if she sees their personality, especially if they're alone somewhere.

Additional thing, she too is close with her dorm mates, well mostly for her twin brother and Dorothea. Aside from her twin, she often seen with Dorothea, either gossiping or chatting about music.

Who would have guessed that scary demon Casimir has a sibling, a twin sister to be exact. No one is getting close to her.

_____________________________________

Trivia

-The name 'Cattleya' means a beautiful person. It comes from the a group of orchid flowers. While her surname 'Dominguez' ([doˈmiŋɡeθ] or [doˈmiŋɡes]) is a name of Spanish origin. It used to mean son of Domingo (i.e., son of Dominic). The surname is usually written Dominguez in the Philippines and United States.

-She's based on Bendy (From Bendy and the Ink Machine) and Verosika Mayday (From Helluva Boss)

-She seems to be skilled with knives, like a assassin. Can throw a knife at a distance.

-Just like her brother, the other dorm leaders only saw her but never interacted cause of her demon status. Peko has never met Cattleya either but only heard rumors about her. But Freya seems to know how to approach her but in secret.

-She's clever when it comes to dancing in stage.

-An expert pro when it comes to stage performances, has a voice which it can charm the whole audience. Does know how to play fairly or not when it comes to competition.

-She too know two diabolics cousins in the past.

-She too is given permission to bring any runaway debtors back to their mother or kill them for disobedience.

-To anyone surprise, she knows how to sugarcoat her words, if that's necessary.

-Often reads high-schools romance novels.

-Cattleya has a sweet voice, but it sounds very manipulative and tempting. Which is why I chose Maaya Sakamoto to be her voice actor.

_____________________________________

Done, last two! (@hourglassstationacademy)

[heartbreakheroics]

sometimes playing the witcher 3 makes me worry for geralt’s (and my own) mental health (seriously, the people you help in the game fucking SUCK???), so i wrote about it: It’s raining when Geralt stumbles away from the campsite, a strange feeling lodged in his throat. This is why he never sits down with strangers, with anyone. He knows this, and yet – he’d been on the road by himself for months, and that’s fine – it is, this is the Path, it’s what he does – but somehow the many wry endings that his latest contracts had found had started to wear on him. Being forced to kill a werewolf to protect the man’s own fiancée, her screaming and crying as she refused to meet his eyes; helping a baron to find his wife and child only to find out he was the reason they had fled; running into wraith upon wraith and finding their letters filled with despair… 

So tonight, when a small group of men had called him over to where they were warming their hands over a campfire, offering him some ale, Geralt had accepted. He would never have normally, but he’d been so frayed, so hollow. Conversation had been fine, after he’d grudgingly told them his name and they had all cast their individual judgement on it, and the atmosphere had almost become pleasant. Until one of the men had known a little too much about politics and Nilfgaardian plans for one of the others’ liking. He’d jumped up, yelling about how the man was a Nilfgaardian spy and ordering Geralt to hold him down. Geralt had tried to calm them down, to keep them apart, to use axii – all in vain. As he’d been focused on the first two, the third man had turned against the supposed spy as well, had stabbed him sloppily, and soaked his hands in blood. 

Not for the first time, Geralt wonders if he should be protecting those humanity calls monsters instead. 

Well past midnight, he walks into Oxenfurt, 

Roach stepping along behind him. The last thing he wants right now is more people, but he is low on supplies, and Roach deserves a roof over her head for a change. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he makes his way over cobblestones and patches of sand towards the university buildings. There’s an odd tug in his chest as he catches the familiar smell of cedarwood and jasmine, and glimpses candlelight coming from the window he’s looking for. Jaskier is home. 

Discomfort creeps up his spine as he realises he can no longer deny what he’s doing. What is he thinking? He stops dead in his tracks, Roach’s nose bumping his shoulder as she comes to a halt behind him. She snorts, ruffling his hair. When he turns to look at her, her ears are pricked forward, her nostrils flared.

‘You smell him too, girl?’ Geralt asks softly, rubbing her cheek. She headbutts him in answer. 

He flicks his gaze back at the row of buildings and makes a decision. ‘Come on, then.’

The stables are quiet, a sole sleepy guard keeping watch in front of them. Geralt vaguely recognises him as a young lad from one of Jaskier’s classes. John? Jord? Geoffrey? 

The boy straightens, his movements stiff. ‘Mr. Geralt, sir!’ he says, squinting in the light of a single torch. ‘Mr. Witcher of Rivia. How are you, sir? Are you visiting Jas- professor de Lettenhove?’

The question – assumption, really – catches Geralt off-guard. He nods curtly. ‘I need a stable for Roach here.’ There’s a beat. ‘Please.’ 

The boy – Yason? – smiles broadly. ‘I can take care of that, sir, you go on and catch professor de Lettenhove before he goes to bed. Not that he seems to go to sleep early, mind, the other day a mate of mine said that she saw his light on hours after midnight –’

‘Thank you, Yann,’ Geralt says, glad to remember the lad’s name at last, and effectively shutting him up. Yann’s face lights up at that, and honestly, what has Jaskier told these kids? The look of awed reverence is unsettling. Fucking bard and his stories.

With a last pat on her neck, he hands Roach over. He usually prefers taking care of her himself, but he knows he can trust the kid to do it well. That, and some part of him is heeding Yann’s words, wanting to catch Jaskier before the man goes to sleep.

He doesn’t let himself think before he knocks on Jaskier’s door. The wood is a clear blue under his knuckles, standing out from the plain doors of the surrounding houses. Of course. He can hear Jaskier get up, stretching and cracking his back – Geralt decidedly doesn’t flinch at that – and make his way over to the door.

Bleary, glazed-over eyes meet his own and widen. ‘Geralt!’ Jaskier says, sounding pleased even when no human should at this hour. He is in a long, white shirt, and his hair is mussed, looking rumpled. A small wrinkle forms between his brows as he looks Geralt over.

The next thing he knows, the bard has thrown his arms around him, holding him tight. And Geralt is disgusting, surely, covered in dust and mud and blood, and he doesn’t normally do this, they don’t – but gods, he doesn’t have the energy to protest. He leans into Jaskier’s solid weight, just a little. Brings his arms up to awkwardly rest on his back, and breathes him in. It settles something deep inside him, makes his breath come out in a shudder and his shoulders drop. 

‘There you go,’ Jaskier says softly, rubbing circles into his back. It’s – new, but it feels good against his tense muscles. Geralt steps back.

‘I -’

‘Come on in,’ Jaskier interrupts him, turning around and walking inside without looking back.

Geralt sighs. Maybe he can stay. Just for a little while.

[alittletoo-obsessed]

The Language of Flowers

* Growing up in Ealdor, Hunith taught Merlin how to use nature around him to get messages across when he was unable to voice them out loud.

* He used them to let his mother know he was safe when he and Will went off into the woods for days at a time. He’d send Anemones home when he was sick and sent Angrec home when he was hired in the royal household. 

* When they become closer, Merlin started bringing Arthur flowers. Every week, without fail, there are new flowers on his desk, and never the same ones. His excuse was that Gwen brings Morgana flowers to "liven up the room" or that the flower merchant was in town or that Gaius had extras, whatever. Anyway, at first, he makes fun of him for it, but he eventually stops because Merlin's giving him flowers!!

* One day, Arthur is hanging out with Morgana and he brings up Merlin's flowers, which makes Morgana laugh and ask him "So what's he been saying?"

* That's how Arthur finds out that Merlin's flowers have a stupid meaning and now he has to get a stupid book from Geoffrey to find out what they freaking mean.

* The days where Merlin goes missing -Gauis may say tavern but Gwaine's never seen him there -he'll get a bouquet of heather lavender (protection), with a single daffodil (misfortune).

* When visiting princesses wish to marry him, he receives a bouquet of yellow carnations (rejection and disappointment) and snapdragons (gracious strength, but also deception).

* When Arthur doubts himself in court or is betrayed again, Merlin gives him white chrysanthemums (truth and loyal love).

* When the castle is attacked and they must fight back, Arthur returns to his chambers and finds King Protea (courage, daring and resourcefulness) and blue irises (faith and hope), tied together with a Camelot red ribbon ordained by the Pendragon crest.

* One day, Merlin places sympathy lilies, white roses, orchids on his desk. He’s been particularly quiet recently and Arthur knows these flowers are more important than usual. The book says these flowers are the ones people give when their loved ones die.

* The next time he receives that bouquet, he makes sure to spend the entire day with Merlin, lightening his chore load and sending him out into the town with Gwen instead.

* Merlin gives him the same bouquet when Uther dies, despite his feelings towards the man. It warms Arthur’s heart.

* After Morgana goes evil, Arthur shuts himself away from everybody for some time, even keeping Merlin at arm’s length. His book glares at him when the bouquet on his desk turns into Red Carnations and Black Delilahs. The words “I miss you” bounce off the page, right next to “Betrayal and dishonesty”. Stupid language of flowers.

* Arthur decides he’s had enough when he returns in his chambers to find a small vase of white orchids and blue forget-me-nots settled on his desk with a letter carefully set on the side, his name delicately curling around the front. After a year of this flower business, he doesn’t need to look at the book to know what the bouquet means: I’m sorry, don’t forget me.

* No one has seen Merlin in 3 days, his chambers are empty and his horse is gone. When Arthur finally reaches Ealdor a week later, Hunith ushers him into the cottage, offering him a cup of tea and a vase for his flowers as they wait for Merlin to come back.

* As soon as they see each other, Arthur hands him a single red rose.

Merlin’s breath hitches as he murmurs, his eyes locked on the flower, “Love at first sight,” and without a moment to lose, he conjures up a second one.

Arthur smiles at him, “Two roses.”

Merlin’s answer is small, barely a whisper in the tense atmosphere of the room.

“Mutual Love and affection.”

[peppermintquartz]

minific, Playroom!verse / White Collar crossover

Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Tyler Breeze, Finn Balor

*

"For the record, I do not like how you're making me spend this holiday," Peter Burke repeats as they get into the car - a Ford, how plebeian - and Neal does what he does, which is smile prettily, nod, and say, "I know, Peter."

It's Hollywood they're headed to, all porcelain veneers and big parties and backstabbings and beautiful people, and if not for the bright sun that threatens his complexion, Neal would have liked to move here.

Well, a younger, more reckless Neal.

(It's not been the same for Neal since Peter's caught him for the final time, the two of them reconnecting in Florence, both of them finding each other where Galileo's preserved middle finger pointed right at the heavens. Then they had nights of accusations and arguments and pleas, followed by angry sex, followed by makeup sex, followed by 'come home with me' sex, followed by 'we love you and want you here' sex.

It was a lot of sex, to make up for the years Peter couldn't have Neal, not while Neal was his CI, and somehow between the fucking and the promises that Peter will not try to resurrect the dead Neal Caffrey and instead be satisfied with Geoffrey Neil Anderson, professional art restorer who sometimes travels for work but is based in Brooklyn, they have found an equilibrium together with Elizabeth.)

The address they have is in a very nice part of town, but not in the flashier districts. Mansion after mansion, but nothing too ostentatious as to be gaudy. It is clear that everyone in this neighborhood has old money. The security at the gate scrutinizes Peter's credentials and even calls to check, which earns him Peter's grudging admiration, and Neal hands over his name card. The actual address is for a mid-century modern, its black roof and pale cream walls almost plain and modest, if not for the huge estate it is situated in, and at the door are two men, one blond and one dark-haired, of about the same height. The blond man is in a white shirt and tight pale blue jeans, while the brunet is wearing an all-black suit with a black shirt.

Neal lights up in recognition. "Oh, my god, it's him!"

"I didn't think seeing Tyler Breeze would get that out of you."

"No, Finn!" Once the car stops, Neal hops out and practically runs up to the dark-haired man and hugs him. "Finn! Oh, sir, I never thought I'd see you again!"

"Likewise," says the man named Finn, and from his accent Peter knows he is Irish. What bugs him more is the sir that fell so easily from Neal's tongue. Then Peter's eyes widen when Finn tips Neal's chin and kisses him, hot and passionate, right out here where everyone can see-

"Mm, sorry, sir, but, uh, I'm spoken for these days," Neal murmurs as he pushes away - not quickly enough, if Peter's glare is anything to go by - and Finn just smiles that beatific smile of his.

Smiles like an angel, fucks like a demon. Neal's mind drags some very pleasant memories of Tokyo and Bullet Club from the depths, and he locks eyes with Tyler Breeze, who has a mischievous smirk on his lips. Princess. I haven't seen you in ages.

"Hello, Geoffrey," Tyler says with a wink, despite remembering Neal as Nicholas back in the day, and shakes hands. "It's been, what, ten years?"

"Eight, at least," says Neal, "and please, call me Neil." The names sound the same, but when Neal says it, he thinks about the different spelling.

Peter fumes politely. "Well, it's nice how everyone but me seems to know everyone else but me."

Neal laughs, quiet and fond, and goes to take his lover's hand. "Peter, this is of course Tyler Breeze, whom you know, and this is Finn. Finn, Tyler, this is Peter Burke. He heads the White Collar unit at the FBI."

Neal leaves out Finn's last name. Peter definitely has noticed, but it's okay; Neal knows that Finn erases all his digital footprints on a regular basis.

Finn's smile doesn't alter in its wattage as he shakes Peter's hand. "Nice to meet the man who's tamed Neal." The way he says the name indicates that he knows it's Neal, not Neil, and that he knows a Caffrey, and Peter suddenly knows in his gut that Finn is a criminal of some sort. Not a con man, not the sort to hurt any of them, but now Peter is itching to dig for the truth.

"Oh, that sounds naughty," Tyler says, teasing, and then jerks his head at the door. "Come on in. What would you like to drink?"

"Vodka, Ketel One," says Neal.

Peter says, "Water. I'm driving later."

"What? Of course you're not. I have six guest suites and Finn is only using one of them, so you two are staying here." Tyler sounds affronted.

"But Neal already made reserva-" Peter's protest dies out when he sees Neal's apologetic grimace. "You planned this. You had me take a holiday all the way across the country to be stuck here."

Neal holds up his hands. "El said you needed a proper break of at least two weeks after that gruelling La Monte case, and I can't keep you from your work if we just drove upstate, and I know you'd be pissed off if I had you fly to a different country, so getting you here and into Tyler's mansion is what I can do."

Peter restrains his temper. "That's it. We are flying home right now-"

"You can't leave if you don't have your keys," Finn remarks, and holds up a set of very familiar keys.

"Or your wallet," Neal chimes in. Peter squeezes his eyes shut. Neal must have lifted his wallet when he wasn't focused earlier, damn that charming bastard.

"Neal," Peter says, a growl in his voice.

"Ooh, now I see why you were tamed by him." Tyler bites his lower lip and flutters his lashes at Finn. "I oughta learn how to pick pockets. Roman would totally do that growly voice at me."

"Or you could just go to your Daddy Joe and beg for it," Finn replies, but his gaze is on Peter, who suddenly feels very exposed under the scrutiny of jewel-blue eyes. The Irishman takes the wallet from Neal and passes both wallet and keys to Tyler. "Lock these in your safe immediately, gorgeous."

Peter wants to grab the wallet back; his badge is in there and he can't risk someone copying it. But Neal was the one who insisted that they come here (although his initial claim was to meet a client for some restoration work on a portrait) and he deliberately stole the wallet and his badge and handed them over, and if Neal trusts them...

Tyler practically skips away with his prizes. Finn walks around Peter and Neal, head cocked, like he's studying something. Peter squirms inwardly, wanting to turn and watch him, but is also reluctant to show that he's unnerved.

"I can see the appeal," Finn finally says to Neal, though he is still looking at Peter. "You've found a good one."

"He found me," Neal demurs.

"I caught you," Peter corrects, almost on automatic, because he can't look away from Finn, or from his indecently red lips.

Said lips curl into a languid smile, and now it is a smile that is the downfall of saints and angels. "Mm. Catching is easy. Owning, now, owning is difficult." He pauses. "Would you like to own him, Peter?"

Neal's breathing picks up. Peter's gaze flicks over to him, concerned, but Neal only licks his lips, as if mesmerized.

Finn walks up to Neal and runs a finger along his shaven jaw. "Have you submitted to him?"

"Not yet," Neal admits.

"Do you want to?" Finn's voice drops lower. Peter has to strain to hear what he said.

"Not until... not until he learns how to handle me," Neal whispers. His eyes dart over to Peter. "How to control me."

Finn looks at the older man again, his eyes as startlingly blue as Neal's. Another slow smile. Finn then murmurs, "I can teach him. But I want you to show him what it is to submit." Then his voice hardens. "Neal."

Neal goes to his knees instantly.

It takes a second for Peter to realize that what Finn said was a command and not a name, and then his eyes take in the scene properly and his mind processes what just happened, and his breath catches.

Neal falling to my knees at one word. Neal never running again because I can stop him, with one word. It's a heady promise of power. Neal, finally listening to me and obeying me.

Finn has a very eloquent smile. It's arrogant now, amused. "If you'd known about me, back in the day," he tells Peter, "I could have handed him to you in chains within three hours. And he'd have thanked me for the honor."

Something hot and hungry unfurls in Peter's gut. He smiles back, like a shark. "What would be the fun in that?"

"Oh, so much." Finn winks. "This is going to be a very educational two weeks."