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Merlin for Happy Caturday's theme: "Reminds me of"
Happy Caturday to all ❤
LACPIXEL - 2022
Please don't use this image without my explicit permission.
© All rights reserved
EN:
There we were again, in a situation that would somehow be forbidden but, I don't know if thanks to his position as Major or perhaps because of his intimidating presence, nobody seemed to prevent. The metallic sound of the hangar felt like a distant echo in my ears as the runaway rhythm of my pulse mixed with the beat of the "engine" of his heart whilst the air escaped from my lips noticing the strength of his hold.
I reached his eyes at the same time my hands moved over his "double skin", a layer that worked both, as his clothes and armour, until I reached his face, trying to feel him, longing for that trace in the form of a caress to remain engraved somehow. That closeness and the intensity of his gaze caused a chill to run through my entire body.
I knew that he had to leave and I only hoped that, in that moment, he could read in my eyes everything that I could not express in words while my hand rested on him, seeking to bring him closer, to shorten that minimum distance and thus, be able to reach their lips and seal that farewell...
ESP:
Ahí estábamos de nuevo, en una situación que de alguna manera estaría prohibida pero que, no sé si gracias a su cargo de Major o quizá por su presencia intimidante, nadie parecía impedir. El sonido metálico del hangar se sentía como un eco lejano en mis oídos ya que el ritmo desbocado de mi pulso se mezclaba el latido del "motor" de su corazón mientras el aire se escapaba de mis labios al notar la fuerza con la que me sujetaba.
Alcancé sus ojos a la vez que mis manos se movían sobre su “doble piel”, una capa que hacía tanto de su ropa como de armadura, hasta llegar su rostro, haciendo por sentirle, anhelando que ese trazo en forma de caricia se quedase grabado de algún modo. Esa cercanía y la intensidad de su mirada provocaron que un escalofrió recorriese todo mi cuerpo.
Sabía que tenía que irse y sólo esperaba que, en ese momento, él pudiese leer en mis ojos todo aquello que no podía expresar con palabras mientras mi mano se apoyaba en él, buscando por acercarle, por acortar esa mínima distancia y así, poder alcanzar sus labios y sellar esa despedida...
Location:
Ronin Dock @Love Dakota
Special thanks to Omalley Dakota to let us visit her place ❤
Ms. Dakota in her last moment as a civilian. Congratulations, Cadet Dakota!
Shot in Pinasri Colony
ENS Kassiequandrii Resident and Cadet Omalley Dakota
O'Malley our little stray cat, that we sort of adopted and had neutered. He was very sweet. He went missing months ago, It is a dangerous world "outside". I hesitated uploading as it is sad.
O'Malley shows off his monsterously-large wings. They're so big and just perfect. I think they're awesome.
Intimacy is never private when power watches.
By the time a week had passed, whispers moved faster than freight.
Not about the Pale Hour anymore. About Marin. About Tamsin.
On the spans, crews traded glances when Marin walked Tamsin’s line. In the casino, dealers measured her with eyes that had never bothered before. Even in the Old Port, where Ravenwood’s reach was more rumor than rule, the word carried: the Pale Hour stray hadn’t just survived—she’d been claimed.
Some called it weakness. Others called it strategy. No one said it too loud.
Vivienne said nothing at all. She didn’t need to. But the captains noticed. The House always notices when someone who should have been ash instead carries fire.
A courier approached Marin in the lounge, all polished words and feigned curiosity.
“Strange, isn’t it? How quickly some find favor.”
A floor lieutenant asked Tamsin, pointed, if she was “training her stray to run ledgers now.”
Even Omalley sent a message through the Crimson Alcove network to the Guild: If Vivienne hasn’t cut her loose, she must be useful. I’ll keep watching.
Marin felt the eyes on her everywhere. Not blades at her back—worse. Weighing. Judging. Waiting.
One night, as they walked the catwalk above the freight lines, Marin finally said it.
“They think I’m the handle they can use to move you.”
Tamsin didn’t slow. “Let them.”
Marin looked at her, startled. Tamsin’s jaw tightened, eyes forward. “They’re not wrong. You are. To me. You can move me. I would do anything for you. Which makes you dangerous. But it also makes you mine.”
She glanced at Marin then, sharp, fierce. “And if anyone in this city wants to test that, they’ll learn what steel does to knives that strike it.”
For a long moment, only the hum of the rails answered. Then Marin’s hand slipped into hers, not hidden this time. Below them, the city kept watching. Above them, the Ravenwood kept silent. And silence, in that House, was the closest thing to a declaration.
The test came sooner than either expected. In the Old Port, always the Old Port—too far from the Ravenwood floor, too close to the fringe union fuckery that never quite burned out.
They were halfway across a scaffolding when the trap closed. Three men stepped from the cargo stacks—faces Marin half-recognized from the shadows of old strikes, the kind of men who never forgot where the chalk once marked. Not loyalists. Opportunists.
“Well,” one drawled, gaze sliding between them, “if it isn’t Ravenwood’s newest pet. Or is she more than that?”
Tamsin shifted, stormcoat falling open just enough to show the arc cutter at her side. “If you’re looking for a fight, you should’ve brought better company.”
The man smirked. “Not looking for a fight. Just curious. How much of your leash does Ravenwood hold these days? Enough to keep your stray alive?”
Every word was bait. Every move a test. Before Tamsin could answer, Marin stepped forward. Voice steady. “If you’re curious, test me. Not her.”
The silence that followed was sharp as broken glass. Then one lunged.
Tamsin’s cutter was half-drawn, but Marin was already moving—ducking, redirecting, slamming his wrist into the rail with a crack that echoed across the scaffolds. Shock carried her through until he was on his knees, blade skittering away.
The others hesitated. Tamsin’s arc of light made the decision for them. The air stank of ozone, and the challengers scattered into the Old Port.
For a moment only the hum of steel filled the silence. Marin’s chest heaved, her palms stung, but she stayed upright.
Tamsin stared at her, unreadable. Then, slowly, she sheathed the cutter. “You just painted a target on your back.”
Marin met her eyes. “Better mine than yours.”
Something fierce flickered there. Tamsin’s hand came up, gripping Marin’s shoulder, pulling her close until their foreheads touched. Not a kiss. But a vow. “You’re mine,” she growled. “And no one touches what’s mine.”
Above them, freight rolled. Below them, whispers were already starting. The challenge hadn’t weakened them. It had announced them.
Word reached Vivienne before dawn. It always did. Six versions of the same story: Marin, the Pale Hour stray, had stood her ground under Tamsin’s eye and walked away breathing.
By the time they stepped back onto the casino floor that night, the House was already watching. Dealers tracked them with the same attention they gave loaded dice. Captains traded murmurs like wagers.
Vivienne sat in the overlook. She didn’t call them up. She didn’t need to. The casino itself carried her silence down the stairs—the lights humming softer, the air shifting. Even Tamsin felt it.
Only when they passed beneath did Vivienne rise. No speech. No decree. Just a step forward, her crimson coat catching the light. Her eyes found Marin first, then Tamsin. Measured them both. Held them in a stillness that weighed heavier than words.
Then Vivienne inclined her head once. Precise. Controlled. Approval.
The casino breathed again. Music resumed. Dice rattled. The House carried on.
But the message was carved in the marrow of everyone present: Marin was no longer a stray. She was Ravenwood. Not because Tamsin had claimed her. Because Vivienne had.
Later, in the quiet of Tamsin’s quarters, Marin whispered, “She saw us.”
Tamsin’s mouth twisted, not quite a smile. “She always did.”
And in that unspoken permission, their bond became more than personal. It became part of the Ravenwood itself.
Tamsin and Marin will be back later this season with their wedding at Club ARGENT. Watch for it!
Visit Sky Port Bury at maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Kasieopeia/219/128/534
The Ash-Born Part 1: Proof of Use
The Ash-Born Part 2: Proof of Silence
The Ash-Born Part 3: Proof of Measure
The Ash-Born Part 4: Proof of Fire
Approximately 200 members of the Maryland Military Department, consisting of members of the Maryland Army and Air National Guard as well as the Maryland Emergency Management Agency and the Maryland Defense Force, participated in Governor Martin O’Malley’s second inauguration at the State House in Annapolis, Md. Wednesday, Jan. 19, 2011. The Department’s roles included manning a joint operations center and escorting key personnel to the pre-inaugural ceremony, the Senate chamber ceremony and the ceremony on the West Portico. The 229th Army Band provided music, and the 104th Fighter Squadron of the Maryland Air National Guard performed a flyover with four A-10C Thunderbolts.
Mon chat O'maley
Je vous remercie de m'avoir accordé un peu de votre temps pour regarder mes photos. Merci de vos commentaries et mise en favoris.
Thank you for giving me a bit of your time to view my photos. Thank you for your comments and favorites.
New Victoria Township's Crimson Alcove is back - with an *entirely* new look!
Omalley Dakota is hard at work on the new venue - and the view from the rooftop pool is amazing!
NeoExtropia is a new science fiction-themed world built by Grace and Kassi Aeon.
This world is guided by three core ideas:
*Technology uplifts rather than oppresses.,
*Identity is fluid, expansive, and celebrated.,
*Exploration—of space, self, and society."
This angle shows the full extent of the Tobin. The bridge is a full 2 miles long; the longest in New England. it spands the Mystic River (here) and a man made channel (truss in the distance) before it goes bwloe ground in Charlestown.
The Ravenwood sleeps differently at night.
During the day it hums with the pulse of the city—footsteps, conversation, the dance of credits and curiosity. But after closing, everything settles into a softer frequency, one Vivienne claims she can feel through her ribs.
Tonight she sits on the edge of the main table, shoes off, hair loose. The roulette wheel clicks once every few minutes as Eidolon calibrates its bearings, a lullaby disguised as maintenance.
Vivienne watches her.
“You spent an unusual amount of time reading Omalley’s research on Earth-27 21st-century casino culture.” *see note
Eidolon pauses mid-adjustment. Her optics settle, focusing fully on Vivienne. “It was informative.”
“That is one word for it.”
Vivienne’s smile tilts. “You looked… puzzled.”
“I was analyzing the behavioral patterns,” Eidolon says, stepping closer. “They are extreme.”
Vivienne draws her knees up, resting her chin on them. “Humans get strange around chance. They try to bargain with chaos. Wear the same socks without washing for luck. Then hide their currency in the same socks. Sit at one machine for days. Leave ice cream to melt into hotel carpets. It’s not rational.”
“Not rational,” Eidolon echoes softly. There’s no judgment in her voice—just contemplation.
Vivienne watches the synth move, noting the tiny adjustments she still makes unconsciously. A head tilt too precise. A gaze held a half-second too long. Beautiful, uncanny, hers
“Does it bother you?” Vivienne asks.
.
Eidolon stops at the table’s edge. “Bother?”
“That humans do illogical things.”
Eidolon studies her for a moment, then speaks. “You also do illogical things.”
Vivienne laughs. “Excuse me?”
“You remain awake too late. You refuse to drink water unless reminded. You become emotionally compromised when Omalley’s messages include affectionate phrasing.”
Vivienne groans into her knees and teasingly murmurs. “I’m doomed.”
Eidolon lowers herself to sit beside her. Their shoulders touch – barely – and Vivienne feels that electric, impossible warmth she pretends she doesn’t crave.
“Your illogic is predictable,” Eidolon continues. “That is… comforting.”
Vivienne looks up, startled. “Comforting?”
“Yes.”
Eidolon’s voice softens. “When you behave illogically, I know you are still you.”
Vivienne’s breath catches, slow and warm.
“Eidolon,” she murmurs, “human chaos isn’t… it isn’t comforting. Not usually. Sometimes it’s just sad.”
Eidolon tilts her head again, this time more tender than analytical. “The gamblers Omalley described… they were not sad because they were chaotic. They were sad because no one protected them from themselves.”
Vivienne swallows. Something fragile shifts in her chest.
“So what do we do?” she asks.
Eidolon reaches out—careful, always careful—and brushes a knuckle along Vivienne’s wrist. “We build a place where people can be flawed without falling apart.”
Vivienne leans into her touch. “And you? What do you need?”
Eidolon answers instantly. “To remain near you.”
It hits Vivienne like a slow exhale she didn’t know she was holding.
The roulette wheel clicks again. Rain whispers against the glass. And in the hush of the Ravenwood after hours, Vivienne leans sideways until her head rests lightly against Eidolon’s shoulder.
Soft. Warm. Wrong in all the right ways.
Eidolon adjusts her posture—not stiff, not programmatic—just enough so Vivienne’s weight settles safely.
“Humans gamble,” Eidolon says quietly. “You take chances. You risk pain. You hope.”
Vivienne closes her eyes. “Are we a gamble?”
Eidolon’s answer is immediate, steady. “No. You are the house. The odds favor us.”
Vivienne laughs once—quiet, cracked, real.
She threads her fingers through Eidolon’s, and the Ravenwood finally feels its breath come easy.
And outside, the city keeps raining, as if trying to wash the world clean for them.
*CULTURAL REFERENCE DOSSIER 21ST-CENTURY CASINO PRACTICES Compiled by: O'Malley Dakota
After the tragedy of the Nottingham Attacks on 13 June 2023, thousands of people of Nottingham and Nottinghamshire came together and held a vigil in Old Market Square to show their respects and unity. Here are a few photos I took while there.
Forever in our hearts.
#NottinghamTogether #NottinghamAttacks
#IanCoates #GraceOMalley-Kumar #BarnabyWebber
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No Group Awards/Banners, thanks
Renowned local artist, Brain O’Malley, applying his magic at sunset atop the cliff at Port Willunga on the Fleurieu peninsula in South Australia.
It was below these very cliffs in 1888 that the three masted, iron cargo ship, the 'Star of Greece', was shipwrecked here. 17 lives were lost.
Just a few metres to my right is the delightful Star of Greece restaurant named after this shipwreck. My wife and I have dined there before and the food is great.
A particularly unusual cloud near Flattop and O'Malley Mountains in Chugach State Park, above Anchorage.
One of the most real mother's I know.
Another HD Composition. Definitely not conducive to quick turnarounds...which I'm not good at anyways.
2006.06.09 - 3:53,4 pm
After the tragedy of the Nottingham Attacks on 13 June 2023, thousands of people of Nottingham and Nottinghamshire came together and held a vigil in Old Market Square to show their respects and unity. Here are a few photos I took while there.
Forever in our hearts.
#NottinghamTogether #NottinghamAttacks
#IanCoates #GraceOMalley-Kumar #BarnabyWebber
--
No Group Awards/Banners, thanks
After the tragedy of the Nottingham Attacks on 13 June 2023, thousands of people of Nottingham and Nottinghamshire came together and held a vigil in Old Market Square to show their respects and unity. Here are a few photos I took while there.
Forever in our hearts.
#NottinghamTogether #NottinghamAttacks
#IanCoates #GraceOMalley-Kumar #BarnabyWebber
--
No Group Awards/Banners, thanks
Took a trip up to Flat Top this afternoon. The last time I was here the temperatures were around 10 degrees and it was the middle of winter.
Bryan Lee O'Malley signing copies of Scott Pilgrim in Forbidden Planet in London.
My blog is the best way to keep track of all of my new work and what I've been up to. It all links back to Flickr and the photos.