#EGRET II

[arcadebroke]

[aaronkraten]

New Bird to my aviary.

[anissakmorris]

Best Personal Injury Attorney Fairway Coop

A Serious personal injury can turn your life upside down. In addition to suffering serious physical injury, mounting medical bills, lost wages and financial stress can add a painful amount of pressure on individuals and their families. You need someone you can turn to for answers to your legal questions and to develop a clear path to recover emotionally and financially. At Spinner Law Firm, we have been assisting personal injury victims for over a decade and our Florida personal injury attorneys are here to answer your questions and help put you on the road to recovery. For immediate help with your personal injury case, call Spinner Law Firm today for a comprehensive, free, no obligation consultation at 855-Law-Spin | 855-529-7746. WE are standing by 24/7 to help you.

[geodude96]

They have an incredible bond, that's for sure. Think about, for example, Alisa. At the beginning of CSI, Thors was just a place where she could escape from her family and do her own thing. But as it turned out, attending Thors gave her the best friends she could've possibly asked for. 😭

And Juna didn't even want to be there at the beginning of CSIII, but since then she's met many people she's come to dearly love. 😭

The Erebonian’ Trails arc becomes much better if, instead of worrying yourself with the whole “Rean’s harem problem” and whatever ship war may have come from there, you forget about all that jazz and just see Class VII; both og and new, as what they are: The funniest found family ever to exist.

[bleedingichorhearts]

Hello, as far as I understood I can write write a request here. Is it possible for you to write the next part of "Fitful dance" (Emperor of mankind x reader) or something else with yandere! Emps? (Add hot kiss pls)

"Hello! I heed your call, do not worry. I remember. All keep in mind that I have other requests too. Patience is quality and key." - Ichor

Tagged - "@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000.”

TW: Yandere, Bulling Emps' For The Fun of It, Hot Kiss Acquired.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| {Chapter II} - {Chapter IV}

The Emperor has not yet decided for you to be in his universe. At least, not just yet. He was more interested on... avoiding his duties for a while, and well. He can see the… undesirable consequences he could get from just snatching you up. Even if he really wants to. He's going to be... strategic about how he wants to take you in more ways than one. He didn't become a being of power for being unwise.

If he were to take you back now it would not doubt... frazzle you. You would be out of your element, not that he would be complaining. You would be more "satiable" to his advances, and you wouldn't know of his world that he plans to plant you in. So, that's another plus, but the only reason he hasn't taken you back yet is because of his own creations. His sons: Some would hate you, not that he would really care either, but others would... grow on you. He knows it, and it's not a thought he can particularly think through.

"So, uhh, how did you find my address?" Your question brings him back to this reality. His eyes not even blinking as he turns to look at you. A small, charming smile appearing on his face.

"Who would I be if I told you?" He answers you, and you're not amused by it. That sounded incredibly cryptic, potentially dangerous in all ways. For one: He could be some mafia boss. Two? A hitman playing as a charming prince. Three? A playboy trying to get on your nerves and your pants.

"Alright then..." You say, gathering your thoughts the best you can without freaking out of how in the hells he even found you. Your brain trying to make sense that he would be that of option 1 or 2 in a more likely way. "Let me rephrase: Who are you?"

"Hmm, smart one, are you?" He smiles a bit too brightly again, and you have an itch to tell him to stop smiling. "Many called me Anathema."

"Anathema?" You repeat his words, rising your brow. Disbelief written on your face. "That sound like a girls' name. At most, a sort of medical condition."

"Amusing, isn't it?" He laughs; it sounds forced. His long ass legs shifting their weight while he stands in the middle of your living room and you on your couch. "For your inquiry, it means monstrosity or a curse."

"Why would your parent name you that?" You let your mind speak for you, not at all regretful of them. This dude did just walk up to your house and won't tell you how he got your address. You deserve some recompense for that.

"Bold too." He more like comments, his tone going neutral, almost boring-like. His eyes looking you over as if he was debating something. Not answering your question.

"Well, you are not sunshine and rainbows yourself, clearly." You muse at the man, shifting yourself on your couch to sit up straighter. "You won't tell me how you got my address. Thats a red flag you know."

"Red flag?" He tilts his head a centimeter to his right, giving you a risen brow. "What do you speak off?"

"Seriously?" You match his expression, looking him over yourself as if he asked you a dumb ass question, and he practically did. "You all dressed up like you own thousands of corporates, dancing at parties, pulling random people towards you, and stalking me to my address is not alarming to you? Have you lost your logic? Your Common sense?"

He pauses to think on your words that would have gotten you killed for even questioning him and insulting him in all one go. His eyes seemingly going through you as he thinks upon your words. This "red flag" explanation you give is something that is... unsafe; dangerous, and well if he is thinking logical... he was one such in a way.

"You speak ill of me." He states, narrowing his amber eyes at you that seem to shift to a golden color for a split second. The smallness of such a reveal causing the hairs on your neck to rise.

"Yeah, no shit sherlock." Yet, you continue to use the foul words against him. Your world able to speak more freely than his world... Something that he misses but also hates at the same time. That freedom of speech, but also the restriction of it.

"You always talk to new bas- people like this?" He questions you, tilting his head to his left this time. His hands stuffed in the front pockets of his suit pants. "I do not recall you dismissing my dance so easily."

"To people that somehow have my address, yes." You nod, standing up from the couch and brushing yourself off. "And for your inquiry, that was not a dance nor an invitation."

"Really?" He challenges you, looking down at you even when you stand up. His hair waving as if a small draft was inside of your own home. "You were rather quite gentle in your... teachings."

"So, you did notice that I was silently teaching you something." You step forward into his space, looking up at him. His hands in his pockets itching to come out and grasp at you but holds himself still, for a moment. "Yet you cannot notice how coming to my home without an explanation is something you can't learn? Man, what did your parents teach you? Nothing?"

"My, you certainly have a tongue on you..." He comments, the area around you shifting to something darker, intimidating. A random breeze of chill going down your spine.

"I believe I have the right to be so." You huff, folding your arms over your chest, never faulting with the man. "You won't tell me jack shit-!"

One of his gloved hands fly out from his pocket and swipe forward, grasping a bit tightly at your neck and pulling you in close. The simple, hidden touch sending a shiver down his own spine while he kisses you with sudden roughness that it surprises you. Your hands only able to come up and settle on his chest to stabilize yourself. His form taller than yours as he makes himself to be that way.

You can feel how his lips press against yours. His tongue coming to pry them apart and slide through your teeth to taste your own tongue that doesn't recuperate back. A pleased hum escaping his as he tilts his head a bit more to shove his tongue anywhere inside of your mouth as he pleases, taking advantage of your surprise. His eyes a bit more of a glowing, golden color while he keeps you still within his grasp, making you stay in place just in case before he pulls away with that bright ass grin again, his tongue licking up the combined saliva as if it was a noodle. His hand on your neck moving to cradle your cheek with his thumb under your earlobe.

"Have anything else foul to say?" He purrs slightly, thumbing at you. His tongue licking his teeth inside of his mouth before his lips. His amber eyes watching you with amusement at how dumbfounded you look.

"Next time, I'm shoving a pencil down your throat." You threaten him with a growl, shoving him away, or more like pushing yourself off him as he stays in his place. His hands moving to behind his back.

"Oh? So, there is a next time?" He rumbles sweetly, keeping up that annoying ass grin. A few of your nerves breaking at his cockiness.

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 22, 5 juin 1897, Paris. No. 15. — Toilette de visites. No. 16. — Toilette de promenade. Bibliothèque nationale de France

No. 15. — Toilette de visites en peau desoie violine, corsage-blouse bouffante en mousseline de soie paille, recouvert par un boléro brodé en appliques de velours noir, col montant en velours avec ruche rabattue en dessus; haute ceinture corselet, boutonnée, en velours noir; manches plates avec petit ballon surmontant un volant de dentelle, appliques sur le bas de la manche. Jupe plate, plissée derrière, brodée d'appliques sur le bas et sur les hanches. Chapeau Henri II en paille de riz noire, recouvert par une couronne de violettes avec grand oiseau du Paradis faisant aigrette derrière, fleurs en relevage sur le côté.

No. 15. — Visiting enesmbel in purple silk skin, bouffant bodice-blouse in straw silk muslin, covered by a bolero embroidered in black velvet appliques, high velvet collar with ruffle folded over; high corselet belt, buttoned, in black velvet; flat sleeves with small balloon surmounting a lace flounce, appliques on the bottom of the sleeve. Flat skirt, pleated at the back, embroidered with appliques at the bottom and on the hips. Henri II hat in black rice straw, covered by a crown of violets with a large bird of Paradise in the shape of an egret behind, flowers raised on the side.

Métrage: 12 mètres peau de soie violine.

—

No. 16. — Toilette de promenade en lainage gris nickel, corsage-blouse recouvert par un boléro brodé, échancré du bas, à col montant renversé, cravate de dentelle retombant sur le corsage; manches plates avec petits ballons dans le haut. Jupe plate, cerclée dans sa hauteur par trois rangées de galon en laine s'abaissant en rond sur le devant, ceinture semblable. Chapeau paillasson gris nickel, couvert de fleurs des champs mélangées à un froufroutage de mousseline de soie, avec haute aigrette au-dessus.

No. 16. — Walking dress in nickel gray wool, bodice-blouse covered by an embroidered bolero, indented at the bottom, with a high reversed collar, lace tie falling over the bodice; flat sleeves with small balloons at the top. Flat skirt, encircled at its height by three rows of wool braid falling in a circle on the front, similar belt. Nickel gray doormat hat, covered with wild flowers mixed with a frill of silk muslin, with high egret above.

Métrage: 6 mètres lainage en 120.

[postgamecontent]

Which Mini-Console Should I Cover Next?

We're getting to the end of the game selection on the TurboGrafx-16 Mini, which means I have to put the question to my readers once again. Which of the following mini-consoles would you like to see me cover next?

[alex51324]

Beach trip day two!

We got up and walked down to the beach behind the motel:

It's another gorgeous, unseasonably warm day on the Cape May peninsula! (Yeah, I know, but when global warming gives you a day of lovely beach weather at the end of October, it's not like abstaining from enjoying it helps in any way.)

Up on the deck for a little breakfast:

Our first stop was the Cape May Nature Center, which didn't have a whole lot going on this time of year, but the gift shop was great, and it had a few exhibits and a nice deck for looking out at the harbor:

We took a walk around the harbor, taking in the Fishermen's Memorial, honoring fishermen lost at sea:

The earliest names are from 1897, and the latest from 2020:

Then we ended up over at the marina where the fishing boats live:

The nature center has a beach wheelchair!

I didn't see any information on how one gets to use it, but if you or anyone you know uses a wheelchair and wants to go to Cape May, maybe give them a call and ask.

Next we drove through downtown Cape May, ending up at Cove Beach, which is the last of the city beaches. I got lunch at a little beach-shack type restaurant:

The fries were nothing impressive, but those were some of the best fried shrimp I've ever had.

By this point in the trip, Sophie had come to the conclusion that she likes best the part of the beach that isn't too close to the ocean, so she hung out in the car and ate French fries while I went wading on Cove Beach:

In the distance there you can see the Cape May lighthouse, which is our main destination for the day. But first, let's turn back and look at the restaurant:

It's the long, low building with the red roof. (No idea why those people are bundled up like that, unless maybe they're from Florida or something. It was about 70 degrees out. (Or 21-ish, Celsius).

After Cove Beach, we drove on to Cape May Point state park, where the lighthouse is. Since Sophie was going to skip the lighthouse climb too, we started with a nice walk on the dry part of the beach at the park, out to the World War II Bunker:

This is a big concrete structure on the beach, now unsafe and boarded up, that was part of the area's coastal defenses. There's also a lookout tower over by Sunset Beach (where we were for the sunset the previous night), but we skipped that. In the background, you can see the lighthouse!

Here's the ocean and a jetty or something:

And Sophie watching while I go onto the dangerously damp part of the beach:

We exited the beach on the far side of the bunker from where we entered, and walked back via a path that ran between the dunes and this pond:

Which was full of swans. There was also a snowy egret, and a lot of other birds I don't know. It's a very big pond, and there were tons of the swans:

Here's a shot from the same spot that is less good for swans, but better for the lighthouse:

There is a little museum, with some natural history exhibits, and this sign explaining about the bunker, and the beach replenishment project they had to do around the turn of the century:

And also a sign about the concrete ship, that we saw at Sunset Beach yesterday:

OK, now let's head for the lighthouse!

The windows, like you see here, are basically normal house-sized windows, to give you an idea of the scale. The lighthouse was built in 1859, and continues as an active lighthouse today, marking the entrance to the Delaware Bay.

The cast-iron spiral staircase has a total of 199 steps up to the viewing platform. Here we're on one of the six landings, looking toward the staircase:

Each landing has a little niche with a window in it, and as you go up, you can see how the walls are thicker at the bottom.

Here's a view from about halfway up:

Here we are up top!

That's the bunker and the pond, where we were a few photos ago!

Looking out over the town of Cape May Point:

It was incredibly windy out on the platform, and I was very nervous about dropping my phone and having to find my way back home without GPS. Let's go back inside!

This little room here was the lighthouse keeper's work area; back in the day before the light was automated, they had three keepers, who divided the time from dusk to dawn into three watches, with one of them up there at all times. The main things they had to do were lighting the lamp at dusk, refilling the fuel--kerosene, for most of the lighthouse's heyday--polishing the lens, and keeping an eye out for signals from ships in distress, but in winter, they'd also have to go out and clear snow and ice off windows at the very top, above the viewing platform.

The light:

The modern electric light is a lot simpler; in the kerosene-burning days, they had a huge glass lens, with lots of facets to refract the light out.

A short set of wooden steps up to where the light is:

Visitors aren't allowed up in that part--again, this is still a working lighthouse; it's automated now, so there isn't a keeper up there every day, but they do sometimes have to go up there for maintenance.

Back on the ground:

Our next stop was Highbee Beach, another beach on the bay side, for the sunset:

It was nice, but the temperature dropped precipitously in the hour or so before dark, and the wind was very strong, so it wasn't as pleasant a viewing experience as we had at Sunset Beach the day before. I'd been planning to stick around and see if I could see the Cape May-Lewes Ferry leaving for its 6:15 crossing, but it was too cold! We headed back to Cove Beach, to see the lighthouse in action:

That's it there; the light was less dramatic than I thought it would be, but I guess if you're out in the ocean in the pitch dark it stands out more. (Also, at this point the lighthouse is more of a backup in case a ship's GPS fails, rather than being the primary means of navigation like it was back when it was built.) Different lighthouses flash their lights in different patterns, so in the event that a ship's crew were completely disoriented, they could use that to figure out where they are and which direction is which. The Cape May lighthouse flashes on a cycle of 15 seconds, and the one on the other side of the bay at Lewes is on a 30-second cycle.

And I've hit the image limit! Stay tuned for part 2B.

[axilarycobra]

Wings of Fire Lesbian Headcanons

Hey guys. I saw that it's lesbian visibility week this week so since I've been making a pattern of this, I want to share my lesbian headcanons for WoF characters. Not much else to say and there's like 83 so I'll just get into it.

Peril

Sundew

Snowfall

Burn

Blaze

Anemone

Scarlet

Coral

Glacier

Lynx

Carnelian

Cobra Lily

Icicle

Io

Listener

Armadillo

Exquisite

Magnificent

Scarab

Tourmaline

Silverspot

Burnet

Snowfox

Snowflake

Cinnabar

Fierceteeth

Fruit Bat

Mayfly

Frostbite

Ivory

Vigilance

Allknowing

Whiteout

Nettle

Tempest

Greatness

Sequoia

Pheasant

Sepia

Cereus

Opal

Auklet

Clearpool

Pearl (L1)

Snail (TLH)

Splash

Bromeliad

Firefly

Heliconia

Siamang

Battlewinner

Mindreader

Truthfinder

Tunesmith

Arid

Jerboa II

Prickle

Rattlesnake

Scorpion

Tawny

Tundra

Carmine

Sunset

Bloodworm

Cicada (TLC)

Cochineal

Katydid

Mantis

Rootworm

Yellowjacket

Bryony

Taupe

Ash

Beryl

Caribou (bard's friend's sister)

Caribou (princess)

Cicada (AGttDW)

Coypu

Egret

Firestorm

Linden

Python

Tailwind

[arcadebroke]

[aaronkraten]

We are great!

[barrenclan]

Egret II looks so chunky— I love it,, she's just like her father.

Good eye. She's definitely got her father's build, though it's not obvious yet.

[anthologee]

THE MAJOR ARCANA!

Inspired by one of my favorite games of all time (Persona 5 Royale), I reimagined the Major Arcana of the Tarot Deck as real life bird counterparts!

I = The Magician = Lilac Breasted Roller

II = The Papess = Secretary Bird

III = The Empress = White Headed Vulture

IV = The Temperor = Philippine Eagle

V = The Pope = Great Egret

VI = The Lovers = Peach Faced Lovebirds

VII = The Chariot = North African Ostrich

VIII = The Justice = Bald Eagle

IX = The Hermit = Canadian Goose

X = The Wheel of Fortune = Magpie

XI = The Fortitude = Shoebill

XII = The Hanged Man = White Breasted Nuthatch

XIII = The Death = Southern Ground Hornbill

XIV = The Temperance = Ivory Billed Woodpecker

XV = The Devil = Seagull

XVI = The Tower = Flamingo

XVII = The Star = Magellanic Penguin

XVIII = The Moon = Great Gray Owl

XIX = The Sun = Ornate Sunbird

XX = The Last Judgment = Cassowary

XXI = The World = Orpington Chicken

XXII = The Fool = Red Crossbill

[ammonitetestpatterns]

where do you play your games on?

i don't have many personal belongings, i am wageless and expatriated, reliant on the generosity of another, loosing silicon and paper traces, transmitter imprints. a daemonic attachment to the sensuous, the assail of intuition with drudgery and consumerism, the hoarder's false icons, make me feel like the unfolded haplotic and unstipulated sincerity/reality put to a long art or lifework (bildung, too fraught a term?) is capsized and stung to sea, seven of pentacles reversed. everyday i wish i had the courage to crush my electronics with a sledgehammer. solitary gaming is not as open in creative capacity or spiral staircase entry nailings to a self remade time, such that i would channel energy toward console acquisition, i take pride in loyally resigning myself to my snes and pewter. i have a fondness for archaic adventure games, druidic mysteries and visual novels for laughing matters, relished through a windows 98 install on my partner's IBM personal computer 300GL, or by the phosphor ghost blots of a senior partner. it even smells gamey to shuffle through secondhand floppy disc galleries in total dark, waiting for the occasional weird raster hatched erotica to perk up on screen, at which we cheer grotesquely, snarling at the scroll of a mutating relationship to sexuality and the pleasure of seeing from its shining chest. a few years ago i wanted to extract the audio files from the disc image for the apple II GS version of dream zone, but that never came to fruition. our latest tiny task was to burn LSD dream emulator onto a CDR to run on a scrap playstation, its function frontally for a shop display but tacitly for the elevation of the tinker's enterprise, inspired by a recent hangout/accompanied guy time, prowling through his friend's save after questioning him on the unmistakable jewel case tucked atop a shelf to which he confessed its artifice. a chain of CRTs flashed the signal in unison, tied by a wire baton. i tried to yank him over but he was too determined to beat solitaire for old time's sake. magnetized, looping his appearance, the grey man strung a sightline to my rehearsals of fragmentation, arterial gown trains unbunching at the happy town tunnel, a pulse caught under steel. the day after my birthday, riding the tryptaminic ease out, parting the beaux arts sculpting the energy transmuted and consolidated in everything, we passed back and forth a cigarette of damiana, mullein, mugwort and skullcap as the sidewalk furrowed in droves of feet around us, alterior forms aflit, reduced to fluid evaporating to city air and poison fume curvature, the cut and concourse of skirt and skins, egrets nimble under raincloud parasols, porcelain scales tiptoeing. suddenly we saw heaven, must have been choked with the hilarity. a republic of gamers sign suspended, golden, guarding over an otherwise unmarked and rather diffident black door. we pressed our palms in the shape of prayer and bowed madly, finally there was our patriotic salvation, our asylum from the warmongering of the senses. a spatial special fit for the homophone from which ojigi reached reverence in the stitch between motion and the telepathic speech act. gratitude flies me, makes me weightless over the magnitude, the rock split on the activity to which i am lent, weighed with how much is lost, an impossible proportion when your blood, importance is barred and equanimity toward enmity, the nobility in withholding, whittles its sentinel smoke to an ineffective hell. the cow toils, having total access and acclimation to the sensuous and knowing its bounds against the hope for knowledge.

this is all too internet, i need naivist abandon, smarter than any lionized sprezzatura for it is not false, unspoiled by any social simulacral mediation of the network and its orgiastic, explosive exchange of desire pumping its endlessly denied and yet compulsively prioritized platelets into a vile differencing creature suspended in a vat. apathetic to the body, sterile for its oversight, spying on cellular caresses, dalliances swallowing over the lines of separation, sporelike. i want a reality innocent for its inheritance of every ill of the inwit flayed across arrangements of matter and time, the well of history, memory drawn out and in. so that i may be the ὀπαῖον ῥέπον, lantern hole, heaven entry, night heavy, lowered as a sleepy maid's fragile eyelashes on silver moonpan'd summer, the scale dipping and the counter weight forcing a flounce, folding desolation and dissonant intension to rest. i refuse to allow the unrelenting bloodloss of the worldly profane to stain me, but i can hope to be its small medic.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

“I just changed the titles. The first one is a prologue. This is more set in the future, but that should be clear with how the chapter changes? I mean, last one is prologue. Here’s an continuation after about a year.😭” - Ichor

Summary - “Simply walking the halls of a defective mansion. You are suddenly met with new things.”

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000.” - Tagged

TW // Neglect, Predator.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Prologue} • {Chapter II}

Your hands are behind your back as you walk straight down one of the mansions corridors. A gleaming white tile glaring at you each time you pass and wide window that brings in a reflective glare of the sun into the home. Something you honestly hate of this modern mansion. Too much white for your tastes, and well the people that lived inside of it, but that couldn’t be clear enough already. Yet, your not one to purely judge people and nature itself- Well… unless those Golden Knights count as something… unnatural.

Its weird though, you have never really addressed them as their original titles: Adeptus Custodes or just Custodes in short. You have just been mentally calling them “Golden Knights.” Your pretty sure it was because you practically grew up under their eyes, and your younger, innocent self couldn’t fathom nor pronounce Adeptus Custodies. So your little mind settled on what was closer: Golden Knights. Knights also had happened to one of the things you admired then and well now. Admittedly, you like to think of a more… characteristic knight now since you figured out how exactly knights where back in the 12th century. It was a very stark contrast between a little fairytale and the real thing. All the more reason to avoid the Golden Knights though. You’re not sure how they act besides being annoying statues, and trying to follow you are despite your inner turmoil.

Maybe you should just settle for a War World II soldier instead? At least they cared for their nurses… Well, in the movies they did. You didn’t have enough information in written history to claim such. Maybe that is something you could figure out in the time being? Learn a bit more about War World II? You know you have heard of the Astarte's being first sighted there… Maybe that will allow you to get more information on the Golden Knights in your home er- household? No, those words don’t seem right to call this false security of a home…

You pause in your steps; in the middle of the hallway. Your head slightly down as you eye the shiny tile. Your mind in a sudden deep thought. What would you even call this household? Certainly not the Last name of the family, the blood is too mixed and… judging. You felt like they didn’t even deserve the honor of a last name. So, what would you call this… corruption?

‘Dysfunctional? Toxic? Tumultuous? Unstable?’ You almost amuse yourself with those definition's.

“Auntie?” A little, childish voice brings you out of your thoughts. Blinking, your back straightens up a bit again at your other- rather only friendly title you’ve been called here. Eyes flickering down to a little girl behind you, no more than 4 years old. Her wavy, strawberry hair stopping at just her shoulders; her sea green eyes innocent of youth. “Little Eden” you like to call her- mentally. Selectively mute you chosen to be. If you can’t talk in the home; voice your opinion's… Why bother talking at all?

You remember the first time you had met little Eden though. How her little fingers, grasped around your pointer finger while she tried to eat at her other hand, slobbering all over it. Her little cheeks chubby with cute fat, and her eyes a bit puffy with the cry’s for attention she desperately needed. Yet, she seemed to calm at your mere presence. Quieting down to soft sounds of nibbles. A few gnawing “yah, yah, yahs” leaving her. It would have been cute sight if it weren’t for the thought of the whys and hows she was crying for attention in the first place.

You were simply wandering the night halls of the mansion again. A routine you usually do to keep yourself and other things in check. Another party being hosted by your father as the walls thrum with vibrations, and through all that noise? You can hear a faint cry of displeasure. A cry of a newborn that you knew that was, and had come into the world, but just was never allowed to the hospital to see the brith of the new addition. So, you had to settle on patiently waiting for the time you would be able to see her without the foul glares and words of the family that might change her perspective of you at day one. It just… wasn’t a risk you were willing to take just to see someone new, but that wasn’t the thing you were most worried about. It was how the child was crying their heart out, wanting, seeking, needing attention. Their parent no where in sight, no doubt joining that damn party, and you’re not sure what scares you. The child’s obvious neglect or how you feel like you would be another failure to someone else. Even if they weren’t supposed to rely on you.

You sigh out, trying to calm your thoughts before your body would start to shake in anxiety. A hum leaving you to acknowledge the little one behind you. Your body turning a bit to give her your attention. Her eyes brightening up at your simple movements after she rubbed her eyes with her palms. Your eyes flickering to the shimmer of gold behind her, ignoring the… What was he again? A Shadow Keeper? Did she just wake up from a nap?

“Hi, auntie!” She greets you again, bounding up to you on her little legs. Her hands coming out to grasp at your pants. A huge smile on her face, and you’re not sure of what to make of it. No one has ever smiled so brightly at you before. Your brain thinks “logically;” to protect yourself, even from a child, thinking this was a trick. While your heart craves for such actions. Yet, you know better to have your heart to lead you, but it doesn’t mean you would neglect anything- anyone that would show you a smidge of kindness in this chaotic world.

Your eyes flicker over to the Shadow Keeper again. His form slow, basking in the shadows that a part of their armor seamlessly absorbs. His red visor softly glowing, even in the brightest areas, and it never fails to pull a shiver down your spine. These beings were so unnerving, but they have shown nothing to… oppose that. Opposite, really? You think? The people just somehow accept these… things that just appear out of no where, didn’t they think that was a bit suspicious? You weren’t at all judgmental of them nor combatant of them. You just wanted to know their origin, their purpose. Everything has it purpose you believe, but you can’t find anything to support your own ideals of them. Not even with the normal Astarte's. You just find they are kind of like different species: Primaris Marines, first-born, Iron Warrior’s to Salamander's…

Ugh, thinking about them just hurts your brain, brings you a massive migraine. You’ve gotten a bloody nose out of it one time, and you really don’t want to experience that again. It was one of the worst ones that you had, and even that, was suspicious to you. It wasn’t hard to notice that something was at play here as a mute watcher. Yet, something stops you from thinking of such. You wonder if you can get your answers from an Alpha Legionnaire or a Thousand Son. You heard it was a bit risky to deal with the mysteries untold, but if you wanted answers…

“Auntie?” Eden calls for you again, a tone of worry, perhaps defensiveness in her voice. Her hands tugging up at you. Wanting your attention again. “Did Mr. Varon offend you? You stare at them quite a lot…”

‘What? ’ You think to yourself, blinking away from the Shadow Keeper; rising your brow as you look back down at the child. Ignoring your own hint of embarrassment that grows inside of you that you were just… staring at things. Though, who's Varon? Wait…

Your head moves back up to the Shadow Keeper, your eyes narrowing at him slightly, judging him. His helmet tilting a centimeter to his right. His visor flashing a bit brighter as if he was… amused. Never in your life have you made on effort to learn the first and last names of the Golden Knights. You didn’t want to, you wanted the favor of your supposed parents then, but now?

You shake your head, ridding of any thoughts that could be driven by your heart. Turning your head back down to the child that was trying to pull you along somewhere. Her hands tightly grasping at you, grunting in… cute effort to try and move you from your spot. A singular twitch of your lips frowning upward, being shown for the trained eye before quickly going stoic again and following where the child wanted you to be. The shadows’ following at a respective distance right after.

She leads you a bit through the mansion, as if she was checking it out with you. Her hand never leaving their spot on your pants to pull you along. Taking you around the kitchen, living room, the outer rim of the mansion before taking you back inside and pulling you up stairs that has a loft near the entry way of the mansion. An honestly good spot to spy on the new people that come and go, and you suppose its one of the things you and Eden like doing together. Sitting in each others presence and watch the drama unfold just at the entry of the mansion.

“Father! I got someone new I want you to meet!” Ah, and so the show begins. A male and feminine figure slamming the front door shut upon entering the mansion. A click of heels echoing through the area as Father and Mother appear from just down the hall. Mother appearing from the laundry room. Something you take note of quickly as her being in the laundry room was suspicious, she never- doesn’t do laundry. Father appeared somewhere further down the hall. The rest of the hallway unseeable with the second story room wall’s in the way, but you would have to guess it was from his office.

Mother, something you don’t even call her anymore nor Father, but she was a rather fine looking woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Good figure that would make her a model until you get to her shitty attitude. Most of the time she's a manipulator. Her tone untrue to others, including family. Seems like she just can’t stop being in a play. A fantasy she puts herself in. Something at least you can feel pity on her **for.

Father was all the dark a broody unless he was hosting his parties. Drinking away his worries. His dark eyes almost distant; black, slicked back hair seemingly always greasy now a days, but at least he occasionally shaved when a beard started to grow. That was something to show he wasn’t a complete failure. At least physically, emotionally? You, and only you knew he was drowning in silent debt. He should really consider rejecting some things… It will only be a matter of time before he breaks. You take a bet that he would even brake before your mother would.

“This is Linton Stokes.” Your stepsister, more like half-sister, but you don’t really even consider her blooded or even a sister. It’s another thing you think that many would need to earn the title of, but she introduces the new male next to her. Her arms wrapping around his neck while this “Linton Stokes” puts his hands on her waist. A sound of hushed disgust coming from the child besides you. “He’s my new boyfriend.”

‘What's the number now for that? The 12th one this year?’ You muse to yourself, shifting your weight as you lean up against the glass railing. That's also not even counting the past years she's had these flings of boyfriend's. Sometimes you feel bad for them because some of them seemed genuinely good material, only to be ruined by Lessas’ habits of being well…. a known whore, to put it boldly. Other times you can tell it was just a game to the men, and this male? Was going to be no different. You can just tell. It’s like a sixth sense.

“Oh! How exiting!” Mother gasps in fake excitement, but it has just enough training that it fools nearly everyone. Her hands clasping together. Her smile too bright, and the bright red lipstick she was wearing wasn’t helping her either. “What do you do, young man?”

“I, uh, I do business.” The guy retorts and immediately, you know that's a lie. If he was business he wouldn’t be dressed like a commoner. He would be more formal. Not only that, but he hesitated his words. He wasn’t confident in his position. So that's all the more reason to think that he was a liar or he just wasn’t doing well at his job that he was most definitely going to get fired sooner or later.

That, or you’re too judgmental.

“What type of business?” Father inquires, raising his brow. His fingers threading through his hair as he sighs out. Seemingly not in the mood to meet anyone else, unless of he was drinking of course. Friendly, deceiving person when drunk. Uncaring, tired man when sober. Pitiful, almost.

“Corporation, sir.” Linton speaks with manners but if he actually had any he wouldn’t be allowing himself the freedom of touching Lessa openly. He would have been respectful and shown promise in front of father, but you know the simple word: Corporation caught your father’s interest. His eyes regained a bit of light to them at the first syllable.

“Corporation, eh?” Father chuckles in a low tone, coming forward to remove Lessa from him and wrap his own arm around his shoulder. His daughter, not even of blood, pouting just a bit with a stomp of her black heels. “Say… I can teach you a thing or two? Hmm?”

“Mother!” Lessa huffs and puffs, never really liking the attention off of her. Another clicking stomp coming from her as she looks over to mother, expecting her to do something when another solid gold came into the room: Aquilan shield if you remember correctly of what type the Golden Knight was that has entered the entry way freely. His golden armor, and what you assume jewels imbedded in it having a bit of a reflex on the tile below. His figure more prominent in the tile reflection than anything else in the damn house. Probably the most expensive thing in the world too. It’s one of the few things why your father just… tolerates them because not only do they look intimidating, but your pretty sure there is dollar bills in your fathers eyes each time he glances over them.

Linton, probably and most likely has never seen an Custodies before, shivers in his spot. His adam apple signaling that he swallowed hard at the Aquilans’ sudden appearance, and man was it always amusing to see the new people crumble at just the sight of them. You had to at least give that to the Golden Knights. They were effective in chasing people off and keeping them off the property. Not they really intend to. It was just how they were built.

Yeah, built. You don’t believe these men or perhaps just things of armor: formed like golden bars were birthed like 1,000+ pounds at the getaway from a woman’s womb. They were definitely created in a lab unless they came from a line of giants or some mythical creature. Exaggerated? Maybe, but what else could you think of without getting a pounding headache that stops you from thinking further?

“Is…i-is that a Astarte's?” Is the first thing Linton says about them, and it’s almost a boring answer. Her eyes flickering over to father before looking back at the Aquilan with clear nervousness. His hands were shaking a little bit as he swallows again. It was a bit of a miracle that he hasn’t excused himself yet. It was a bit strange, but not everyone was the same. Maybe this guy has a bit of a back bone?

“No, that’s Atlas!” Eden speaks up right next to you. Her little mind not taking the disrespect for the Custodies, no matter if it was a simple question, and you… praise her for it, but did it have to be near you? You were just the playing object, perhaps a puppet in their eyes. Not even their child or sibling, just some random that lives in their house, eating their money, and you can just tell with how they look up to you with such disgust. It would sicken you, yourself if you weren’t used to it already.

“What are you doing out?” Your father more like comments up at you. His arm still wrapped around Lintons’ shoulders while they just seem to forget about the new Golden Knight in the room since they noticed you, and not in a good way as an uncomfortable silence stretches through out the area. Your mouth never opening to answer them. You never do as it would come with a cost of your own sanity. You just watch.

“Who is that, sir?” Linton speaks up with a slight waver in his tone. His brown eyes looking up at you in mild curiosity, and it leaves you skeptical. Your eyes tracking every movement that he does. Man should know what not to question around here. Especially with the attitude of your mother and Lessa. They do not do well with your mere presence or of an uttered word of/and/or about you.

“They are no one, honey!” Your mother grins too brightly, gaining the attention of the newcomer for a second and huff from her daughter: who smirks in response as if she won something she never even participated in. Her arms folding over her chest as she shoots a poor attempt of a sinister glare up to you.

‘Was that suppose to remove me from the plains of the Earth?’ You muse to yourself to keep your spirits up despite the prickling anxiety that feels like lightning was roaming across your back. Your form shifting your weight on one leg.

“Come, baby!” Lessa smiles too brightly as well, forcefully taking Linton back from her father, pulling at the mans’ clothes. Her tone so full of under toned venom, and she wasn't even hiding it. She never tries to. Probably one of the reasons she losses relationships so much…You honestly wonder how well she would do if she was paired up with a chaos Emperor Child? For you, you want it to be a form of punishment for her. You know that what you’re thinking of is… dark. You know the difference between chaos and a “holy” marine; have a slight concept of it, and by god you wished something akin to what was going through your mind happened to her. “Let me show you around my mansion!”

Your father face twitches at Lessas’ words, clearly taking in of how she says “my mansion.” Clearly displeased with her. Not only did she take away a potential victim of his… scam’s, but she was pulling a dominance card, and if you didn’t know any better yourself? Certain men don’t like that, like your father. It’s surprising he doesn’t do anything about it just yet. Most likely wanting to try and score some money off the “Linton Stokes” and spend it all in one go. That is if he was even a business man. This guy could be wanting to do the same to him.

“Hold on now,” Linton pauses their attempts to move him further down the mansion. His hands coming up to hold Lessas’ hands to try and stop her from dragging him. Lessas’ eyes giving him a glare that he simply ignores, looking back up at you. “I thought I was supposed to be meeting your whole family?”

‘Whole family, huh?’ You narrow your eyes down at him, meeting his gaze; making sure that you gather any more detail you could about him physically. He knows a lot more than what he leads on… His eyes flickering around briefly: at Eden then back to you, and something about that simple look around irks you. It sends a couple of negative mixed signal’s through your brain. Your form shifting a bit to cover Eden up more with your body, at most your legs. Her hands squeezing at your clothing at the unintended invitation.

Lessa was a absolute fool to bring this one in.

“She’s nobody.” Lessa hisses through her teeth with a happy tone. Her blue eyes sending you another glare up at you before lighting up again once Linton looks back at her. Smiling as if she hasn’t done a single unholy thing in her life before giving a light laugh. “A maid at most! Let me show you around, babe!”

You can see the man hesitate before reluctantly following her. Letting himself be pulled by her hand and lead him further into the mansion. Your parents lingering for a second, giving you a lasting glare before following their steps. You would feel… sorry, but with how many years you put up with their shit? It wasn’t even worth to waste such emotion.

“That guy is weird.” Eden comments up at you, saying whatever pops up into her head. Your figure leaning up from the glass railing while you decided that pinnacle of drama was enough for the both of you. Better things can be done besides being bait to some theatricals.

You nod down at her though: agreeing. This “Linton Stokes” was definitely weird. He knew that you were part of the household even if you weren’t really well… apart of it. His gives off an… strange aura that you can’t pinpoint just yet, but you know it’s negative. It’s not something to just brush off either. Not to mention the random look he gave Eden…

You need to keep an eye on this dude. Yet, you cannot always be there for her, no matter if you want to or not; could or not. The family would get suspicious, and start lies or something that was supposed to ruin your own reputation. She also could get targeted too, and you definitely did not want that to happen. No child deserved to not feel a mother’s love, father’s protection or even a siblings connections, and just because you didn’t have it yourself? It doesn’t mean you would revoke someone else of that… wholesomeness. That was just a low blow, or at least you think it was- is.

You sigh, your shoulders dropping slightly in some form of internal defeat. How would you even protect her? At least until you feel safe that she was safe? It’s not like you could hire a damn mercenary or bodyguard. The spent money would be suspicious too.

…Wait.

Your eyes flicker up to the black and gold Shadow Keeper that kept to the shadows and the gold and royal blue Aquilan Shield below that keeps his own red visors staring up at you. Your mind thinking… There are others that can protect her, but were you willing to take that risk? To finally make request them of something after years of trying to ignore them the best you could?

To finally give them a sliver of your inconclusive trust?

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 42, 19 octobre 1895, Paris. No. 1. — Corsage de visite. Chapeau de la Maison Moderne, 4, rue Halévy. — Corsage de Mme de Momigny, 17, boulevard Rochechouart. Bibliothèque nationale de France

No. 1. — Corsage de toilette en satin noir pékiné blanc. Corsage-blouse en velours noir, flottant sur la jupe, sous corsage boléro en satin blanc, brodé de perles et garni, à l'encolure décolletée, par une bande de plumes. Manches ballon à hauts poignets, relevées par une patte de satin blanc brodé avec bouton de strass. Tour de cou de plumes.

Chapeau Henri II en feutre blanc relevé par une touffe de pensées et orné en dessus par des plumes d'autruche noire, avec aigrette au milieu et large boucle à la base.

—

No. 1. — Ensemble bodice in black satin with white pekin. Black velvet blouse-bodice, floating over the skirt, under white satin bolero bodice, embroidered with pearls and trimmed, at the low-cut neckline, with a band of feathers. Balloon sleeves with high cuffs, raised by an embroidered white satin tab with rhinestone button. Feather choker.

Henri II hat in white felt raised by a tuft of pansies and decorated above with black ostrich feathers, with egret in the middle and large buckle at the base.