#Sun Do Constabulary

[dalekofchaos]

[soulofamy]

I finally have art to share of one of my mk ocs!! i havent actually written about him anywhere yet but hopefully down the line i will feature him in some of my writing

name: malek age: outworld equivalent of 8 years old species: half zaterran half edenian connections:

syzoth (father, biological and adopted)

layara (mother, biological, deceased, never met)

kaiyon (brother(???), original, deceased, never met)

shang tsung (creator)

mezali (adopted sister, (oc belongs to @ironladders))

ashrah (eventual adopted mother)

with syzoth's son, kaiyon, having been a rare hybrid between zaterran and edenian, shang tsung could not give up the chance to study the poor child. shang tsungs experimentation proved to be too much for kaiyon to handle and the child died before shang tsung could get all the answers he wanted. the only solution in shang tsungs eyes was to simply clone kaiyon in order to continue his experimentation. this clone, was kept as a test subject in a different facility than the one syzoth was kept at, thus syzoth was nonethewiser about his conception

after shang tsung had been arrested and his facilities started to be destroyed, malek finally found his way out of his prison and into the real world for the first time. being the hybrid that he was, he quickly found that he was on his own, and was forced to fend for himself out on the streets. he was quite easy for the carnival to take advantage of. afterall, they needed a new freakshow attraction after their last one left them. without a name, the carnival owner called him malek.

three years later, the carnival was dismantled by li mei. it turned out to have been an illegal operation this whole time. li mei brought him back to sun do, at a loss for what else to do. seeing that he had strangely reptilian features, she sent for syzoth to come and see him. nothing in all of outworld would prepare syzoth for what he was going to see in that constabulary office that day

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night

Author's Note: This is just an idea I've been playing with for a while now, so let me know what you think, if you'd be interested in any more of it, the usual. 💜

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: The destruction of Esgaroth 

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.9k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

Nothing is forgotten or forgiven when it’s your last time around ~ Something in the Night, Bruce Springsteen.

Sunny days were Nina’s favorite. She loved the way the sunlight sparkled against the lake’s surface, making the black water look as if encrusted with diamonds. At night, when the silver light from a full moon shone upon it, she couldn’t tell where the night sky ended and the lake began. 

She stood out on the narrow deck just off the kitchen. Like most of the houses in Esgaroth, the one belonging to her family was tall and skinny, and it seemed to lean slightly to the left. On days when the winds whipped in from the west, she’d swear the house actually swayed. The only house not built this way belonged to the Master, and Mama didn’t like it when anyone brought him into a conversation. He was the only person Nina had ever seen who seemed to be universally hated by every man, woman, child, and household pet in Esgaroth. It was rumored even his own lackey—Alfrid—hated him. But then again, the Master hated everyone in return, so it was really quite a fair tradeoff. Of course, he hated everyone because he liked to play that he was better.

Nina and the other average denizens of Esgaroth hated him because he was a greedy ass. He raised taxes arbitrarily, imposed fines by changing laws and regulations on a whim, and made certain to keep his subjects subservient by taking away and locking up anything and everything that even remotely resembled a weapon. There would be no uprising if he had any say in it and since he had the constabulary at his command and they didn’t, he had all of the say. 

The wood railing ringing the deck was old and falling apart, the paint faded and peeling from the splintering wood in long, curling strips, ruined by sun and spray, by fog and snow, by frigid winter air and baking summer heat. But she paid little mind to it. It was clear, cold day, the air scented with the promise of snow. 

But that wasn’t what had her so lost in thought as she watched the waves glitter and sparkle in seemingly all directions. 

No. Nina glanced in the direction of the Master’s fine, pretentious, utterly stupid house, and sighed.

She was in love.

“Mooning, are you?”

A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see her older sister, Lenna, propping an elbow on the railing and offering up a knowing smile. 

“No,” Nina shook her head as she managed to tear her eyes from the building, “I am doing no such thing.”

“He didn’t know you were alive, little sister. All he cared about was getting the Master to release him.”

“Which he did. And he smiled at me.”

“Or he was smiling at Shalia, as every red-blooded man does.”

“But he is not a Man, and you know it. He is a dwarf. And not just any dwarf, but the King Under the Mountain.”

Lenna let out a low laugh. “I am not calling you Queen.”

“You will when I win his hand.”

“He’s leaving in like, two hours. And he is not coming back.”

“So, I have two hours to get him to notice me.”

“You are mad. And Mama said we’re to mind the stand for a while. She has to go and fish.”

Nina sighed. “Very well. I wish Papa would return.”

“He’s not coming back, Ni. We need accept that.” 

Lenna turned to go back into the kitchen and Nina followed her. So much for going to the docks to see Thorin Oakenshield and his Company set out on their quest to reclaim their home of Erebor. She’d heard tales of Thorin and his family, but until the previous night, had never before laid eyes upon him. But as she stood in the snow, with the crowds of people who’d gathered after Thorin and his men—and a Hobbit, of all creatures—had been arrested for attempting steal weapons from the Esgaroth Armory, and her gaze fell upon him, she saw him for the first time.

And promptly lost her heart. He was simply the most handsome man—er, dwarf—she’d ever seen, with long, silver-streaked hair that was almost as black as the lake itself, a beard that was darker still, and pale eyes that could be either green or blue. She was too far away to tell. All she knew was he was handsome, with a deep, authoritative, elegant voice.

She followed her sister down to the street level, although streets in Esgaroth were canals and floating walkways. Their family’s trade was in baked goods, which were baked from sunup until  mid-morning and sold until they ran out. They had a prime location in the center of town and as everyone knew everyone, there was plenty of gossip and laughter in addition to work. 

Nina found it hard to concentrate as she kept turning west, in the direction of the Master’s house. All she could see was the upper balcony and part of her hoped Thorin Oakenshield would step out onto it. Last glimpse she had of him was on the steps of the Master’s house, promising everyone in Esgaroth they would share in the riches of Erebor, and she and Lenna had gone to sleep last eve dreaming of what life would be like once they no longer had to worry about money. 

But by the time they were done for the day, Nina had to accept that the dwarves had taken their leave and no one knew when or if they would ever see them again. A dragon had claimed Erebor and first Thorin and his company had to defeat it. As the sun sank low over the lake, Nina sighed and propped her elbow on the railing of the kitchen balcony, her chin on her fist. The thought of never seeing Thorin again, of something terrible befalling him, hurt her to her core.

“Do you suppose he’s frightened?”

Lenna tugged her worn shawl tighter about her shoulders. “Who wouldn’t be, facing off with a fire breathing dragon?”

“Well, true, but I suspect he is braver than most. He is, after all, the King Under the Mountain.”

“You’re just saying that because you think him cute. Because you want to kiss him and make those funny noises with him, like Rhys and Ena make.”

Nina stared at her sister. “You listen to them? Oh, that’s wrong.”

Lenna chuckled. “They’re so bloody loud, Ni, how do you not hear them?”

In the distance, rising from the darkness, the summit of the Lonely Mountain stood silent sentry over Erebor, Esgaroth, and Dale, the now abandoned city that lay between the two. Nina tried not to dwell on it. “I put the pillow over my head.”

“And that helps? You’re only on the the far side of our room.” Skepticism wove through Lenna’s voice.

“No.” Nina met her sister’s gaze. People often mistook them for twins, which Nina found laughable, as two years separated them. While they did share the same coloring—coppery red hair and wide, almond-shaped green eyes—Lenna was strikingly beautiful, her hair sleek and straight and perfect. She was delicate and pretty and people fell all over themselves for her. If she wasn’t as sweet as she was pretty, Nina would cheerfully throttle her for being so bloody perfect.

Nina on the other hand was short and stout, her hair often a rat’s nest of unruly curls that refused to behave. She was rough and tumble and more than once had punched a boy out for daring to get fresh with Lenna. The younger generation knew to steer clear of making Nina Carren angry. Nothing good ever came of it. 

Lenna sighed, shaking her head. “I didn't think so. Hopefully they will find a flat of their own soon.”

Nina smiled. Their older brother and his wife were married a year already, and even with saving as much as they possibly could, had yet to move into their own home. Sometimes, when they thought the rest of the house was asleep, and Rhys would exercise what Mama called his husbandly rights, Ena sounded as if he was murdering her. But come morning, Ena would be fine, smiling and laughing and no matter how Lenna tried to assure Nina that Rhys was not hurting his wife in any way, Nina couldn’t make herself believe it. The entire idea of doing… that with any man made her shudder. 

At least, it did until she saw Thorin. Then curiosity wove into the revulsion, and she wondered what it would be like, to know him in that way…

“Lenna?”

“What?”

“Have you ever…”

Lenna smiled. “Once. With Dane Inahorn.”

“You did?” Nina couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “When?”

“Last Yule. His parents weren’t home and we… well…” Her smile faded. “It was only the one time and it was dreadfully uncomfortable. At least, it was for me. It hurt. It hurt and just when it stopped hurting and started feeling almost good, Dane came and that was that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. He smelled odd. I’m not doing it again until I’m married and won’t have to worry about jumping at—”

A low, ominous rumble rolled their way from the west, and a faint glow lit the horizon, orange against the darkness. 

“Len, what’s that?” Nina clutched her sister’s forearm. 

“I—I don’t know.” Lenna stood at her shoulder, her hand over Nina’s, her fingers tightening. She gave a gentle tug on Nina’s arm. “We—we should go inside, I think.”

The rumble grew louder and the air stirred, but it was different from the usual trade winds. Hotter. With more force. It blew through Nina’s hair, lifting it up to toss about her face as the air grew hotter still.

The entire town seemed to sway, just as it did whenever a strong storm whipped out over the middle of the lake and swept toward them, but this was different. There was far more movement. Wood and pilings creaked, some seemed to actually groan. There was nothing at all normal about the sounds or the swaying and Lenna gave a harder tug on her arm. “Ni, I mean it. We should—What is that?”

They saw it at the same time—a bright orange ball of light bouncing along the horizon, steadily growing larger and brighter. Lenna grabbed her hand and leaped back as the wind blew stronger, a low swish of leather sweeping through the air accompanying.

“Lenna? Is that… is that Smaug?”

As she made herself say the word, the dragon became identifiable, its massive wings propelling it toward them. Nina froze, unable to move, her gaze riveted on the creature as it drew in a long breath and exhaled a jet of flame that was almost red in its intensity.

The first buildings on Esgaroth’s west side were the fishermen’s shanties and they caught with the first blast, flames of orange and yellow devouring the roof shingles and licking along the walls. Another blast and the next block was engulfed. Screams rang out, footsteps pounded against the wooden walkways that were near-perfect kindling for the enormous firedrake. Heat rolled toward them like the heat of a blast furnace, almost knocking them off their feet with its force. 

“We need to go. Now.” Lenna tightened her hold on Nina’s wrist and Nina said nothing, just broke into a run to keep up with her sister. Rhys and his wife were not home yet, and as they reached street level, they plunged headlong into utter chaos. Half of Esgaroth was aflame now and Nina looked up as the dragon flew overhead. Cinders and shards of flaming house rained down upon everyone, sparking fire after fire as the dragon lazily flew from one end of town to the other, from west to east, from north to south. The heat was unbearable now, choking her, making her eyes burn and her nose run, and her breath near impossible to catch.

She and her sister ran. Smoke thickened, blinding them, choking them, and little by little, the fires gave off the light of the sun as they devoured building after building, block after block. Boats clogged the canals, and somehow, Lenna lost her grip on Nina and the panicking crowd swallowed her whole.

“Lenna!” Nina screamed despite her stinging throat and streaming eyes, fighting to get to where she’d last seen her sister. “Lenna!” 

“In you go, love!”

She screamed again as someone grabbed her and tossed her like a sack of flour into a small boat. She hit the bottom, the wind driven from her, and threw her hands up over her head as more burning shingles and wood scraps swirled on the wind from Smaug’s wings. Something scorched her left cheek, along the cheekbone. The acrid stench of singed hair stung her nose and when she brought her hand to her temple, her hair crumbled as if it was no more than ash. 

“Here he comes!” Someone above her screamed and Nina opened her eyes to see the dragon rise high into the air, its belly aglow and getting brighter as he dragged in a deep breath. She closed her eyes, braced herself for the sting of fire on her skin.

Only it never came. 

“Bard got him!”

“He did! I seen it!”

“He got ’im!”

Nina once more opened her eyes as Smaug writhed higher into the night sky, the glow of his belly going from orange to yellow to blackened ash. He twisted one way, then the other, a low, gravelly roar rolling across the night sky.

Then he plummeted back to earth.

The wave caused by his striking the water was beyond monstrous, flinging the boats and their passengers in all directions. Nina found herself looking first at the sky, then at the lake, and when she hit the water, the air left her body in a massive rush. The frigid water bit into her with sharpened fangs and the last thing she remembered was a hand snagging the back of her bodice to haul her out of the water and back into a boat, where she lay on the bottom shivering, ice crystals in her hair, on her clothes, in her eyelashes.

When she came to, she was on the sandy shore on the slopes of Dale. Her entire body ached. Her cheek stung, the burn along her cheekbone raw and sore. Like everyone around her, she had only the frozen clothes she wore—a worn blue cotton dress over a worn linen chemise, waterlogged hose and boots—and like the others, she searched in vain for Mama, for Rhys and Ena.

For Lenna.

They weren’t there. 

Over the next two days, she searched—for clothing or a blanket, for food, for her family.

They were gone. All of them.

She found Lenna washed on the beach, facedown, pale and unmoving. She was buried with the others in a simple grave just east of the beach. But there was no trace of Mama. Nor of Rhys or Ena. Incinerated, perhaps. Dragged to the bottom of the Long Lake when the firedrake hit the water, maybe. All she knew was her entire family was gone and she was alone. 

Around her, she watched as families were both reunited and broken. She watched mothers and children cry with joy and sob with sorrow. She helped her neighbors bury their loved ones, allowed them to help her do the same. As darkness fell, salvaged wine was passed around and despite her tender years, she drank her share. The next day, her new life began. 

A week later, the survivors were now settling in Dale, and she overheard Bard the Bowman, the man responsible for slaying Smaug, say, “It looks as if the company of Thorin Oakenshield has survived.”

They survived. 

He unleashed the beast that destroyed her home, her town, her family. 

Yet, he survived. 

That night, at the end of Dale’s main thoroughfare, Nina sat upon the low stone wall on a promontory that overlooked the front gates of Erebor. She sat, ignoring the cold, knees drawn to her chest, and just stared at the fortress city. Light glowed from within, visible through the city’s damaged façade. 

Her stomach rumbled. She ignored it. 

Her eyes stung. She blinked back the tears. 

There were riches inside that mountain. Riches Thorin vowed he would share.

A week had passed and not a single dwarf emerged from the city. 

Earlier that day, the king of the Woodland Realm, a tall, thin, handsome elf with pale gold hair and cold blue eyes arrived with an entourage of hundreds. She’d heard men speaking of a coming war between Men, Dwarves, and Orcs.

She heard tell of a giant pale orc called Azog the Defiler. 

For some reason, he had a score to settle with the King Under the Mountain.

He had placed a bounty of said king’s head.

For just his head.

Nina stared at the front gates, fury bubbling up from her gut to keep her warm. That damned king destroyed her home and her family. 

Not only will I collect that bounty, I will do him one better. I will bring Azog the whole bloody dwarf. 

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC In Fifteen Tag!

Thanks for the Tag, @kaylinalexanderbooks!

I'll go with some lines from Kyran Mavven (Of Starlight and Beasts), Raiden (Jade Ruins), and Sam Delaways (Enchanted Illusions)!

Kyran Mavven

"Ugh, you've got to be kidding me." *death glares at Masen from across the tavern with the wrath of a thousand suns.* [Masen sees him, and strides up to him for the whole tavern to see, speaking with an angry smirk "Hello, brother."]

"If I get to blow something up then... yes. The answer is yes. And it will always be yes."

[To Bastien] "... You're not as wretched as I'd expected, for an Eclipsed soldier, that is. You're... pretty okay." [Cue awkward pat on the shoulder before walking off]

"I haven't worked on a team for a while now. I wasn't expecting my next experience with this to be with this little bunch of dimwits, but I'll take what I can get."

"They're trying to kill us, aren't they." [Corah chuckles awkwardly drily, clearly lying "No, not at all! What made you come up with that?"] "First, most people we meet since you came around are actively trying to kill us. Secondly, and most evident - they've literally just stabbed you!

+ Bonus: "If you touch my glasses or my goggles again I will bite you."

Raiden

6. "Because I know how to put up a show - why do you think my fights in the arena have such a crowded audience? - while you almost stumbled yourself to death twice since we first met. By yourself. That's why I'm in charge of the distraction, and you're in charge of all the rest."

7. "Hold on just a minute! I'm far too glorious to trudge through that muck, oh, no way in the Hells! We're figuring out another way around this or I swear to the Spirits that will leave you behind -" [Gets thrown in the bog regardless, mid-tantrum]

8. "So we're working with the Daggerfangs now? Literal assassins and thugs?" Raiden looks between Solei and Nevan with a bitter laugh "Oh, okay! Here go my hopes at living past 25 then. But carry on, enlighten me with your plans."

9. "Just because I like to annoy you doesn't mean you're not my friend, Solei. Now, can you not be such a killjoy and just let me help you, or is that too difficult for your 'high royalness'?"

10. "Oh, it's not me you've gotta worried about. I'm all tied up!" He smiles, holding up his tied wrists with a near-hysteric laugh and a dangerous tone "You pissed off Jinn - you're more fucked than I could ever make you be. And I suggest you run off now, 'cause she's coming up behind you at a really remarkable speed."

Sam Delaways

11. "That's a good idea alright. If you two intend on being dead in a week that is!"

12. "...Yeah, this city ain't for the faint of heart - you gotta fight through it, or else it will consume you, and that never has a good ending."

13. "You don't say? Here I was thinking the whole 'drenched in blood and viscera, glowing pitch black eyes' was just a style choice of his - of course, I knew he was a necromancer! I just didn't know he was that necromancer, that bit is new."

14. "The constabulary here are more corrupt than the crooks. If you walk up to them with that bunch of evidence against the Mayor, I guarantee ya that you two will be the ones walking out of that station with cuffs and a noose waiting for you in the docks. We need 'ta make an actual plan to go about this."

15. "I want chocolate cake." [Harriet and Augustus turn to him, baffled, given that this is the wreckage of one of their most recent escapades gone wrong. Augustus speaks up "You do know that we almost died just now -"] "That's precisely why I want that cake. Now, shut up, and lemme just enjoy this ride for a while, fancypants, I got a headache."

Tagging (gently, no pressure): @lassiesandiego, @clairelsonao3, @little-peril-stories, @rickie-the-storyteller, @crowandmoonwriting, @sam-gladee, @writernopall, @oh-no-another-ideaa, @hrmkingizzy, @jasperygrace, @tabswrites, @littleladymab, @starlit-hopes-and-dreamss, @tabswrites @i-can-even-burn-salad, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and @blind-the-winds

[bananaabsns]

Butterflies

I saw this thing I wrote on my microsoft word last year and I have no idea on how to make it longer-ish cause it was too short for my taste. So instead on letting it exist on word I'm going to post it for fun.

There was never a normal, quiet day in Sun Do. Li Mei looks down as she watches the chaos happening down. There was a fight in Sun Do, a huge one. Li Mei guesses that there might be at least 20 or more people. Li Mei did a hand gesture and the constabulary went into quick action, they were defusing fights, handling punches being thrown at them, an octopus and stopping a few almost murders. 

Li Mei starts interrogating a local food vendor how it happened. He said that there was a misunderstanding with a group of teenage kids, one of them started throwing food, which they grabbed from a nearby vendor, which made the vendor angry and started yelling, the food hit the wrong people and boom boom. FIGHTING

She thanks the vendor, and looks around the area she spots an octopus stuck to a man's groin area and a woman who she thinks is his significant other yelling at him.

“The thing is that does not even make it to the top 20 weird things we’ve seen this week” Koh said as he stands beside her Li Mei laughs “Wouldn't be Sun Do” Suddenly a commotion happened Koh and Li Mei peaked at and sees one of the people who almost committed murder during the fight is making a run for it Koh sighs “why can’t people understand that running never helps. Stay here I’ll grab him”

She places a hand on his shoulder “No need, I tagged him already” Koh looks at Li Mei confused, but his attention is taken away when Li Mei points at a swarm of something white in the air, moving above Sun Do.

“Are those things following the man?” Koh asks

“Yeah, and those are butterflies Koh” One butterfly leaves the swarm and flies toward Li Mei’s hand Koh is mesmerized by the butterfly, it's beautiful, they had this translucent white color with a bit of purple in it. “How did you do this?” he asks while trying to touch the butterfly “I well I took inspiration from one of the spells I used to do to the princesses when they were younger” she smiles

“What use were these butterflies for?” “Oh you know storytelling and such” Li Mei murmurs quietly but Koh hears it and he snickers The butterfly flaps its wings and hops onto Koh’s hand “you a storyteller? Never thought I would hear that” “Well it wasn’t me I did the visuals, the designs, the sounds, but it was Sin- I mean the Empress who made the stories”  Li Mei smiles “the princesses loved those stories dearly” 

[fictiongarden]

TWENTY DAYS TO ELECTION DAY, CHOMMELL SECTOR, YEAR 48 BBY

"Oh, protestors." Tomal grabbed Sereine Lumisol's arm and pointed. "There."

"Of course, they couldn't wait til they reached the stage." She blew an irritated sigh. This tour was the longest and the toughest she'd run yet, and her candidate was in no mood for the heat and the crowds to begin with.

Now this.

Too bad he'd brought it on himself.

Several people in tattered tunics, dull against the fashionable wear usually seen in downtown Ariaru, Chommell Minor, closed their distance to incumbent Senator Erasmesheev Palpatine waving homemade signs and shouting. The candidates had emerged from the Civic Center, walking to the outdoor stage, ready for yet another of the hundreds of debates and public appearances on this six week tour, flanked by the blue-robed Republic Senate guards who accompanied Palpatine everywhere. "Mmm, I'd better get down there," Sereine said. "Stay, watch the monitors for me." Tomal Gilio had a level head even at the young age of twenty-two. She'd made him her deputy campaign manager at the start of this and hadn't regretted it for a second.

Sereine raised her hood to cover her russet hair and dashed out into the hot sun, headed for the stage. She'd hoped to stay by the monitors in their makeshift command post this afternoon, but it wasn't to be. Slipping past latecomers to the candidates' debate, she hurried down the walk as the Senate guard surrounded the protestors and pushed them to the side, out of the candidates' way.

She had more fears for Palpatine's mood than for his safety. These people didn't look scary. They would do more damage to Palpatine's demeanor than to his person.

And they were too close. Of course, her candidate had to be closest to the sidewalk. Sereine flashed her credential and slipped behind the barrier.

"Incompetent!" someone screamed.

"Murderer!"

Already the guards were moving them away, and their shouts grew muffled behind tall bodies in long robes and full helmets. The local constabulary came over to meet them and take the offenders into custody.

Palpatine looked in her direction but not at her. Before this infernal campaign, her presence in the front rows of any audience would have helped to focus him. Not so much anymore. He knows I'm here, she thought. Sheev, look at me.

Palpatine stubbornly refused to make eye contact, and for the briefest instant Sereine had had it. If he wouldn't look at her, there was no point placing herself front and center as she usually did, as a focal point for him. If he had a moment of temper and said something untoward, perhaps it was all for the best. The protestors, now meters away, were being put into patrol speeders; she couldn't do much if he wouldn't even look at her. Sereine turned and made her way back to the huddle, where five of her staffers and three of her interns crowded around the monitors, waiting for the debate to start. As she drew closer, she saw them all pull together in a knot around one screen.

A collective cry went up. "Kriff! Stars!"

Tomal's voice rang out above them. "Where's Sereine?"

Sereine broke into a run. Then she heard, "Oh, my gods! She slapped him!"

Tall Tomal was easy to spot. His dark, longish hair stood out against their cream-colored tarps. He raised a hand and spun around, spotted her, and frantically waved her over. As she drew close, he said, "They missed a protestor! She just jumped over the barricade and spat in Palpatine's face and then slapped him!" Sereine's heart dropped into her stomach, even as she realized that anything she might do would be too late. The instant he was slapped, it was all up to Palpatine. Every twitch of his reaction was already on the holocams in excruciating detail, and everyone had seen it but her.

"Is he all right?" She elbowed her staff aside, making a wind-back motion with her hand. "Roll back, roll back."

Sereine held her breath, watching someone jump the barricade like a professional hurdler. The view changed as the ever-ready holocameras adjusted to the moment. Palpatine blinked as the woman stopped within a hair's breadth of him, spat, and then slapped him hard enough to turn his head. "Ow!" said Maisine, her newest intern, at the very front. The red print of a hand showed plainly on Palpatine's face.

"She slapped him hard," Arias, one of her teahouse crew, leaned into a screen on her right.

Sereine strained forward to catch Palpatine's expression. From his demeanor this morning, she expected homicide. Instead, his face went slack as he straightened, as if the slap had knocked the breath out of him.

And then she saw the briefest, gentle lift to his wheaten brows, and his eyes lowered briefly to his shoes. Blue gloved hands reached out, yanking the protestor back out of frame; Palpatine bowed his head with the air of one justly chastised. Just before the holoangle changed again, Sereine caught the motion of his shoulders and his robe in an involuntary shudder. The expression and the bow were deliberate; the shudder was not.

Anyone who didn't know him well would assume Palpatine was frightened. Sereine knew better.

That shudder was pure rage.

But it was perfect. As she stared, she reached out to claw Tomal's arm. A little triumphant squeak escaped her throat.

Tomal whistled. "He saved that one."

"Perfect, perfect, perfect!" Sereine whispered. She gave her head an amazed shake. "He couldn't have handled that any better if I rehearsed him for a week." Arias said, "I hope he can hold it together for the next hour and a half."

Sereine laughed. "Oh, no. We just won this one, baby. Nobody's going to remember a word anyone says on that stage today. It's going to be, 'Palpatine got slapped, Palpatine got slapped, oh my stars, Palpatine got slapped!' All he has to do is show us some grace up there and our numbers go up. And I think he knows it, too. Look at him."

"The moderator's going to ask him about it." Logane, one of her permanent staff.

Sereine put her hands on as many shoulders as she could reach. "Well, let's just hope he's thinking if she does." She tapped Tomal. "I'm going back down there. He's going to look for me."

Logane said, "'I'm out there getting beaten to death, Sereine, where were you?'"

Sereine couldn't hold back a guffaw at that. Before she could compose herself, everyone recited, "Don't ever do that in front of the candidate, his family, his guards, or his staff!"

"You people have been on this campaign too long," said Sereine. "Hold it down; I'll be back."

***

Palpatine avoided Sereine's eyes the entire debate. She saw him glance directly at her once, just to see that she was there, and then he addressed the cameras and the audience and ignored her.

Not what she was used to. For the past year—no, more than that—they had eased into a comfortable working relationship that grew even more comfortable behind closed doors. Even now, her body tingled and moistened at the memory of his hands on her, his lips upon her mouth.

She had a feeling that would never happen again. The way this was going, it would probably be the last time they ever worked together. He had gotten back at her with someone else, working off steam from the difficult tour ... until Tomal cornered a holographer on the Senator's hotel corridor and took his cam off him and offered to either pay him for it or break it.

Sereine had had to show Palpatine the holos and query him whether he wanted those in the news just now or not. She said nothing about the woman. But of course he would be bound to think the entire episode was based in jealousy.

She would miss him. But, it hadn't been her with a questionable relationship with a firm known for mob ties and malfeasance, and he hadn't consulted her before making an insensitive remark about it when it hit the headlines in the middle of an earthquake in the Karlinus system.

She was struggling with all her wits to raise his poll numbers, but she hadn't felt confident revealing her entire strategy to him or anyone else. And the constant walkabouts in suffocating crowds in the heat of Chommell summers were tearing at his nerves, affecting his performance ... and destroying their relationship.

What would she be dealing with once he got down off that stage? She had tried to talk to him, she was trying to buffer him all she could from the things she knew got on top of him, but this afternoon was going to take the whole pie.

She already knew.

The moderator spared him any questions about the slapping incident, but she knew the holocams after the debate would not. She cornered him as soon as he stepped off the stage and murmured to him a few words he might say about the slap. He listened, but he looked past her, sweat beading on his forehead, heat in his cheeks. She looked down and saw his sleeve quivering. He had done a slow burn for an hour and a half up there, and he was still holding it in.

***

The candidates filed back into the Civic Center for a short moment to cool down, use the 'fresher, confer with staff. As soon as they left the building for their hotels, holocam operators jumped after Palpatine like mantises after a fly.

"Senator Palpatine! Who slapped you?"

"How are you feeling, Senator?"

"Senator Palpatine! Does this have anything to do with the mob scandal in the earthquake disaster camps?"

"Do you feel any guilt, Senator?"

Sereine walked beside him and shielded him with her arms. "The Senator's had a long afternoon. Begging your pardon, we'll answer questions about this later."

Palpatine stalked into their current hotel, disappeared into the lift, and rode up to his suite alone, flanked by the two guards who would stand sentry outside his door.

Sereine gave him a half hour as she tidied herself in her own room, then she crossed the corridor to tap on his door. Someone had to go over his schedule for tomorrow.

She both wanted and didn't want to check on him.

Inside, he growled, "Enter."

She walked inside to find him at his largest window, staring out like a caged animal. She walked over to stand beside him, and stopped for a split second on her way.

The hem of his robe trembled. She knew these afternoons were stressful for him, but this was something else again. She had tried to ask him about it before, but that hadn't gone well.

Words used to come so easily between them. Plans, goals, work, bits of political gossip. Now she had no idea what to say. She drew up beside him and placed her hands beside his on the sill.

He glanced over at her, his face flushed, his eyes unfocused. She realized his hands were trembling. She drew breath, ready to try her best. It was a hard afternoon. You did well.

He raised a hand and looked away. "Just don't. I already told you I can't explain this to you."

And then he looked at her. Desire lit in the fine eyes she loved, but she saw a hard glint in them, too. It took her a second to name the emotion.

Desperation.

She placed her hand over his.

The next instant, he'd whipped around, his hands on her elbows, his mouth angling hard to hers. She raised her head to meet a kiss that bruised her lips. His hands gripped her arms, and she knew what was coming next. He lifted her off her feet and sidestepped, slamming her backwards into the wall. Her head bumped; she didn't see stars, but it hurt. He was rougher than usual tonight.

Next he would almost tear her clothes away and pin her to the wall with his hands and his mouth. And she would reach hungrily for his belt, running her hands lower to savor the firmness she loved.

Her heart leaped with joy and desire. She had thought this was over. If he needed to bruise her a bit to slay whatever dragon had possession of him, then he could. Whatever drove him now, she would ride it with him until it left him in peace. He gasped and kissed her, and she released his belt and worked on his robe. She had trouble with it; her hands shook now, also.

He shouldered out of his robe and she began on his shirt buttons, running her hands over his hot, damp skin. Palpatine tore at her work robe, and the clasp flew off and hit the opposite wall with a crack. Sereine left the robe in a puddle behind her and stepped forward to help him with her dress.

In moments they stood naked, pressed against the wall. He strained toward her in a proud arc, and she took him in her hands, relishing the size and smoothness and the firm feel of him, the moisture at his tip. He gasped when she touched him. He drew her closer, pivoted, and pushed her to his bed.

Since their first night, his lovemaking had been almost utterly silent. Sereine could never stop herself from moaning and crying out, but Palpatine never made any sound other than breath. For months, she had vowed to get some sound out of him when they had sex. She itched to see him overcome, such that he couldn't help but grunt and groan with the pleasure.

This afternoon, soft moans vibrated under her mouth, and when he entered her he cried out, one sharp note. He drove himself into her as if sex with her was like needing to kill someone. She held him and rode it with him, lost in the feel of him, pushing her farther and farther until she fastened her teeth onto his shoulder and let out a strangled scream.

He slowed and stopped, breathing in hard sighs, and she felt his pleasure dripping out of her. This was her favorite part, when they got wetter and wetter ... She waited to see what he would do.

He covered her mouth in long, hard kisses, and he never fell soft. He shifted inside her, and she moved with him, enjoying every move and every gasp and moan he made. She loved that her body made him feel so good, loved to watch him watch her, craved to know that she satisfied him. Her own body pulsed with pleasure, even though she'd already peaked once. He began again, easier this time, and she groaned with the feel of him in her and reached to cup him in her hand.

***

A third time, even more gentle, and he finally relaxed. She gloried in the sensation of him softening inside her, stroking his sweat-dampened back in long strokes.

She'd had a lover in her teens who once took her three times without stopping, but someone Palpatine's age? Remarkable. Of course, this wasn't a nightly event, but when they hadn't seen each other for a while, more often than not, she had learned, she needed to prepare for a long night. That had been enough to convince her that, other than this tense campaign, he probably saw no one but her.

This man captivated her, and he always made her feel so good. She'd tried to tell him before, but words weren't adequate. She held him to her and wrapped her legs over his as best she could, thankful, grateful that it wasn't the last time after all.

It might be possible to live without this, but she didn't want to. Her body and spirit prayed that he didn't, either.

[fireleaptfromhousetohouse]

Old-style Paedoing, Before It Got Such A Bad Name

Epistemic status: understanding the recent past, which I wasn’t around for, mainly through the lens of comedies, rumour, and scuttlebutt

The story goes that it was an open secret for many years that Sir Jimmy Savile, knight of the realm, was a horrible sex pervert before it all came to light and he was declared a posthumous monster. And this is true - but the specifics are rather vague.

A lot of sources (or, as they are now, brave prescient voices) were bang-on certain he was into some kind of sex crime, but weren’t sure exactly what. Viz simply painted him as a man whose (unspecified) confessional was worth hearing. An early Mitchell and Webb bit came in on some shocking report midway through, leaving the actual deeds as a noodle incident but quite clear they were appalling: ‘you think you know a guy, and then he goes and does something like that.’ Even Johnny Rotten, back in ‘78, went no further than charging him with ‘seediness’ and saying ‘I know some rumours’ in an edgy-kid stream-of-consciousness about all the people he’d like to kill, where he displays a bit too much knowledge about what does and doesn’t constitute libel.

The general charge, if any, seemed to be necrophilia. Lee and Herring’s bit where they dressed as Savile ended with the punchline ‘bagsy I take him to the morgue’. One of Irvine Welsh’s earlier novellas has a Cornish Savile-alike wantonly indulging in any corpse he had access to - Welsh’s version is a more general TV personality rather than specifically a children’s entertainer, probably for fear of litigation. This was no idle fear, Savile was well-known for taking such insinuations courtside, and of course he did sue when Chris Morris falsely announced his death on Radio 1, with the coda ‘the patients [at Savile hunting ground Stoke-Mandeville Hospital] are far from mourning...The majority, if not all of them, are extremely relieved that he’s now dead, although I suspect that some of them will be sorry that he didn't suffer a great deal more’.

Interestingly, Lee and Herring - as they’ve stated publicly - weren’t brave prescient voices. Hanging around Television Centre in their mid-twenties, they’d become aware of this - to them, absurd - rumour that Savile troubled the corpses. They decided that if nothing else it was game for a laugh, presumably with a BBC lawyer standing nervously in the wings and demanding they not get too specific.

Until Savile’s death, this remained a rather murky Soviet truth, and Savile himself remained a respected public figure. Within the third millennium, even as Chris Morris was being castigated for the Paedogeddon special of Brass Eye, BBC brightly-coloured-blobs children’s show The Tweenies had one of its blobs dress up as Savile as a bit of lighthearted fun - in an edition of the show which was, unwisely, repeated in 2013.

(Side note: the same tabloids which threw an ape over the obviously satirical Paedogeddon regularly ran pictures of topless 16-year-olds, until a change in the law in 2003 forced them to stop.)

It’s all out now, of course, but like the sun is one of those things people are wary of looking at directly for fear of the damage it could do. Savile made full abuse of his position as a public figure, to the point that he himself admitted to the necrophilia in idle conversation. Even by the loose standards of the British constabulary they admit there were over 200 actionable complaints made against Savile over the years.

The crux is this - Savile having committed all these beyond-the-pale acts becomes a very convenient way to paper over the point at which, in the broader consciousness, paedophilia went from ‘crime’ to ‘unforgivable, lowest-circle-of-hell crime’ in the vein of necrophilia. Because it was far more acceptable not too long ago, as many legendary musicians can attest. Gary Glitter generally just seemed shocked people were suddenly taking it so seriously - as did Jeffrey Epstein. 

Louis Theroux’s rather regretful pair of documentaries about Savile has the man himself being quite blase about his attitude to underage girls - as were the girls themselves, some of whom, while young at the time, were by their own account quite aware what might be on the cards. Does this make them culpable? Of course not, they were children. But there are those who would disagree. At the time, many would have and did disagree - including, quite likely, serving police constables. The Rotherham grooming gang, so beloved a talking point of those who just want to have a go at Pakistanis in general, were enabled top to bottom by a police force who considered their victims to be ‘slags’.

[angelbroad]

"We can't do this on our own."

Type: Fanfiction

Fandom: Mortal Kombat

Characters: Li Mei, Jerrod/Ermac, Kitana

Li Mei leaned on the table in frustration, Syzoth doing very much the same, scratching his head as he looked at a report in frustration.

 The woman slammed her hands on the table, “How are they getting past our defenses??”, she cried out.

 Ever since the army went through mutiny and the Constabulary numbers had been dropping. She sighed, seeking Kitana and Jerrod. She greeted them both with a salute before she stated her purpose.

 “The Lin Kuei are much worse than we thought.”, Li Mei explained, “If this goes on, we won’t manage to stop them from gaining a sphere of influence over Sun Do, or even Outworld as a whole, if we are not carefull.”

 Kitana looked just as worried as her, and so was Jerrod.

 “The Constabulary won’t be enough.”, Jerrod confirmed, “And the conscription we introduced for the army still has not filled its needed numbers. We can’t do this on our own.”

 “We cannot allow Bi-Han and his clan to infiltrate Outworld.”, Kitana warned, “There must be something we can do.”

 Jerrod run his hands across the map thoughtfully, before his eyes lit up from the memories of one of their battles.

 “We require aid.”, Jerrod said, turning the women’s attention to him.

 “The Shirai Ryu.”

[freyito]

another mk oc... This is L'otah Orion! A former Bounty Hunter who joined the Sun Do Constabulary... Still working out the details and properly drawing her but... squeezes her affectionately. meow!

[crashpill]

Downer

Name: Isabella Bloom

Age: 30

Gender: She/Her

Residence: Lud's Holm

Job: Hair dresser

Hair color: Dark Brown

Eye color: Grey

Family: Father and mother dead, brother works as a Constable

Relationship: Single

Special features:

Birthmarks on the face, (Half mask)

Likes:

Uncle Jack

Sewing

Tea

Sun

Making people happy

Favorite song: Not a Crime to Smile

Dislikes:

Snow

Injuries

Constables

Soldiers

Fire

Backstory:

Isabella and her brother Edward witnessed a tragic incident as children that claimed their parents' lives. In a devastating air raid on Wellington Wells, their parents were killed amid the chaos of war. Isabella was only 14 years old at the time, and Edward just 18.

With the loss of their parents, not only did the siblings' idyllic world crumble, but their family was torn apart. Without relatives to take them in, Edward, the elder, felt compelled to care for Isabella. In a world shrouded in Joy, where grief was considered a weakness, he tried to be a substitute family for his sister. The two endured a challenging childhood, marked by loss, loneliness, and the constant struggle to suppress their tears.

To make ends meet, Edward took on a job as a delivery boy at an early age, and later, when old enough, joined the Constabulary. The responsibility weighed heavily on his young shoulders as he tried to shield Isabella from the world's horrors.

In their cozy home in Wellington Wells, Isabella and her brother Edward lived happily. Isabella's hair salon was not far from their home, where customers came not only for a haircut but also for the warm atmosphere.

Isabella was a respected hairdresser in Wellington Wells, renowned for her artistic hairstyles that enhanced the city's splendor. Her life seemed perfect until she lost her hair salon due to an unfortunate chain of events threatening her livelihood. A devastating fire, triggered by an unlucky short circuit, destroyed her business and everything she had built. Without insurance and financial means to rebuild the salon, Isabella faced ruin.

Desperate and without hope for improvement, she turned increasingly to Joy to numb her worries and fears. However, over time, her body could no longer tolerate the drug, and Isabella found herself caught in a whirlwind of withdrawal symptoms and depression, while her once lively salon turned into a sooty ruin.

Without her livelihood and the support of her salon, Isabella not only lost her economic security but also her faith in the apparent perfection of Wellington Wells.

Instead of living in the euphoric illusion of Joy, Isabella found herself in the abyss of reality, plagued by withdrawal symptoms and the painful realization that the world around her was, in truth, crueler than she had ever imagined.

Her brother, torn between duty and family ties, eventually decided to bring Isabella to the outskirts of the Garden District as a Downer. There, in the decaying remnants of the city, Isabella must not only battle physical withdrawal symptoms but also the emotional turmoil between her past and an uncertain future. Her journey is marked by the quest for truth, self-discovery, and overcoming the dark shadows that loom over Wellington Wells and her family.

Relationships with:

Arthur: She could never really become friends with him but she liked his brother Percival. Sometimes she misses Percy as she remembers him more and more.

Sally: She doesn't know Sally well enough.

Ollie: Better keep distance from him.

Relationships with other characters:

Nick: She really enjoyed listening to his music. Would do anything to go to one of his concerts.

James and Roger: She doesn't know them both.

Percival: She was friends with him at the time and got along well with him. She doesn't know what happened to him and misses him in dark times.

Bobbies: Isabella's relationship with Constables is strained, marked by a conflict of allegiance. Her brother, Edward, being a Constable, adds complexity as duty clashes with familial bonds. The authorities view her as a Downer, intensifying the tension and making her interactions with Constables fraught with suspicion and risk.

Doctors: She actually likes them, Isabella maintains a neutral stance towards the doctors and harbors some hopes for understanding and support.

Uncle Jack: She loved watching him and misses seeing him on TV. She likes going to the Uncle Jack meeting at her place in Lud's Holm, but it's just not the same.

Foggy Jack: Isabella's relationship with Foggy Jack is characterized by caution and uncertainty. She doesn't want to meet him but would like to know more about him.

Downers: Can't trust everyone and she's pretty careful too. But when she meets someone good, she likes to help the person out and also share the things she has.

[dalekofchaos]

Rain should've remained a ninja and Hydro should've taken MK1 Rain's story

Hot take.

Rain should've remained a Ninja and not a fucking water wizard.

Rain isn't just a water user Rain controls rain and clouds and has used lightning as his moveset. He isn't aquaman. That's Hydro.

If anything he should have either been the following.

The leader of Edenia. Give Rain what he wants and to fulfill his destiny as Argus son. Sindel gives him the title of Lord of Edenia and he's called to help against General Shao's Rebellion.

A member of the Sun Do Black Ops division. In this, Rain stays to his ninja path and does what the Sun Do Constabulary are unwilling to do, and wipe out the enemies that threatens the Outworld Royal Family

The assassin who killed King Jarrod on orders of General Shao. He is freed by the general and sends him to kill the royal family, he fails and flees. Rain's arcade ending would be taking his birthright as ruler of Edenia.

Fuck were Ed and Dominic smoking?

Ninja Rain will always be superior

As for Hydro.

Could've been to Bi-Han, what Smoke was for Kuai Liang. Hydro is Bi-Han's right hand, does what Kuai Liang and Tomas are unwilling to do for the Lin Kuei. He shares Bi-Han's vision and even killed Bi-Han's father for Bi-Han and made it look like a drowning. His ending has Hydro get canon Rain's ending, but instead of feeling remorse for drowning Seido, Hydro justifies it by saying it was for the Lin Kuei and Havik will prove to be a valuable ally.(a hint of things to come) Sektor's ending has Hydro join her to free Bi-Han and Noob's ending has Hydro fighting with Noob and Sektor against Liu Kang. Also Hydro is gay for Bi-Han(I said what I said)

Could've been genderbent. Could be Bi-Han's wife and second in command or Frost's girlfriend and her name could be Hydra.(fuck you for just making her a fucking Invasions bullshit)

A Kameo who stands with the Lin Kuei...come to think of it. Why was Khameleon in the Khaos Reigns story, but Frost wasn't? 🤔

Full Lin Kuei line up Bi Han Sektor Hydro/Hydra Frost Full Shirai Ryu line up Kuai Liang Smoke Harumi Hanzo(lol fuck you Dominic, what's next? Satoshi being Kuai and Harumi's son???) Cyrax

[danco110]

“So, wait. You take care of the ruins of Avabruck, all on your own?”

The noblewoman gave the cathars a cheerful nod. “That’s right! Or, well, I have Tacitus here, and he provides his own brand of support. Isn’t that right, Tacitus?”

The wolf cub barked at the pair of soldiers, who seemed skeptical at the woman’s claim. One of them doffed his hat and began to plead with her.

“Please, ma’am, you seem a decent sort. But, there’s been sightings of werewolves about. It’d probably be best if you came with us. Just until the full moon passes.”

The noblewoman gave a derisive scoff at the mention of werewolves. “I know the group of which you speak. No doubt they’re offended that I’ve taken up residence in their former hunting grounds. Not to worry, good cathars. I do not fear those fools.”

“Well,” drawled the speaking cathar, “maybe you…should?”

The noble laughed at the question. “Once upon a time, I might have agreed. I always was rather helpless in a scuffle. As it stands now, however, I rather like my current situation; a solitary life, save for Tacitus, here. And believe you me, I will fight to defend it. On a related note, I feel I no longer have much to worry about with regards to full moons, if you catch my meaning?”

The cathar scratched his head. “Er, I…don’t?”

“I do,” the other soldier spoke up at last. “Anyways, I think we’ve taken up enough of the lady’s time. Heh, and Tacitus’s, too.”

As if on cue, Tacitus began happily barking once more.

“But please, ma’am, if you have any trouble…during the day…at all, you only have to ask for help. We’ll be there.”

The caretaker rolled her eyes. “You have my thanks. Now, the hour is growing rather late, don’t you think?”

The second cathar nodded up at the sun falling towards the horizon. “I concur. Let’s go.”

“But- Whoa!”

The second cathar dragged away the first before he could protest, leaving the caretaker waving at them as they left.

“What polite young men! Nothing like the constabulary that originally patrolled this town.”

[cpirits]

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙ ╰┈➤ WILLIAM MURDOCH HC

"I rely on logic, not feelings to determine if a person is guilty" -S2x24

★ William first spoke freely about his crush on Julia was S1x11, right after he was shot with a crossbow and injured trying to protect a woman who could commune with spirits. (canon) ★ He had a cane during his recovery, and hated using it, but still keeps it in a closet of his house. ★ He's got a severe crush of Dr. Julia Ogden, but feels she is out of his league even though he flirts with her (so I don't consider their marriage in my muse's history.)

★ He doesn't drink (unless off duty, and even then light), smoke or do really any sort of promiscuous activity, but has read a few books, to which he tried deeply to forget but the words are stored forever in his brain. He might be curious about a lot, but unable to act on anything. ★ Makes the sign of the cross over his chest when finding anyone/anything dead, to honor the deceased, he also does his best not to use God's name in vein.

★ He grew up in a poor family, and so knows what hard work can make a man into. He'd work himself into the ground if he didn't have friends who cared. ★ He's not squeamish around dead bodies, and around Dr. Ogden who is constantly working with corpses, cutting organs, etc.

★ Murdoch wears coal on his eyes because it helps keep sun from them, and he's inspired by ancient Egyptians. He loves history. ★ Keeps his late fiance in his memory a lot, mulling over loving, and losing her.

★ In S1x12 he caught up with, and lost an old friend from his boyhood. He deeply grieves the loss and hates to see anyone he cares about die. ★ He cries only in secrecy, thinking from his church days that it's weakness showing, but as he grows he learns that it's okay for a man to cry openly. ★ He like all members of the Constabulary are proficient in Horseback riding, as well as shooting guns, though Murdoch doesn't use a gun unless acting in self-defense. ★ His favorite animals are Pigs ★ Coffee is a drink that perplexes him, he doesn't like that it's so bitter, and prefers tea.

... this will be added to ...

[hrshl-hlms]

The Vatican Cameos (1986 DOS game) CASEBOOK

Hi, here is the casebook from the manual so it's easier to read.

I cut it by chapters so it's not too heavy on the reading.

The Adventure of the Vatican Cameos

(April 22 - April 26, 1888)

CHAPTER ONE

The Discussion

"I see that you've not slept well, Watson. Your eyes are dull and colourless". Sherlock Holmes said these welcoming words as I sat to breakfast across from him. I poured a cup of thick, black coffee and reached for a still-warm toast. "It is true enough, Holmes", I said.

Holmes folded the morning 'Gazette' and dropped it alongside His chair and onto an ever-mounting pile of newspapers.

"We are experiencing an unusual spring. This heat brings out the worst in men, Watson. Evil seems to breed well and rapidly in those sweltering streets below."

I half-nodded my agreement with his statement, my mind yet besotted and bleary of the poor night's sleep. I reached for another toast. Holmes, on the other hand, was quite filled with a restlessness that usually comes from inactivity. I was surprised that he exhibited this form, for he certainly evidenced a considerable, and still mounting, pile of requests for his services.

"You're restlessness", I began cautiously, "cannot be from lack of work. You have telegrams and offers a-plenty." I eyed the small desk-top that was littered with telegrams, messages, and letters. Holmes nodded.

"You are right, of course, about the demands on my time. Most of these papers, though, represent nothing more than simple robberies, purse filching, pickpocketing - the activities pursued only by the lowest caste of criminal. All of this, for as much as it is, seems more properly the province of the local constabulary. It is for them to engage in the meaningless searches, mews runs, and the flailing of clubs to bring these sort of footpads to justice. There is little enough challenge to the mind as it is without worrying about these petty mischiefs!" Holmes stood and crossed the floor of our sitting room, stopping before the great bow window overlooking Baker Street. He stood, back to me, and quietly reflected on the scene unfolded before him.

"Out there, Watson, are men who plan their crimes, not merely prey upon the weak or those who suffer their momentary lack of vigilance. These minds are the ones we must seek to confront. They have a low cunning, intelligence, perseverance, and a seeming unquenchable thirst for power or money. They carefully lay out their evil in plots and plans, puzzles and trickery. They demand us to turn right when left is the true way. They know to the minute that moment most propitious to their own good, and they know that moment months before it is barn.

"Their intelligence is their greatest weapon - not the footpad's speed or the cat burglar's stealth. It is the mind-muscle which is stretched and flexed in designing evil plots. The most awesome of these stand in public sight, unhidden yet unseen. Their machinations continue on behind clear eyes that always watch, always see, and never sleep.

"These are the ones that must be prey to our hunt!" The vigor with which Holmes sealed his reflections came as a cannon shot in the otherwise quiet morning sun. He turned to me and watched me as I yet watched, half-expectantly, him.

"I'm sorry, old friend, for such a burst. I have had one or two trifling matters burden me. I can see no sense nor fee I my way - yet they should be simple affairs, quickly concluded."

I nodded, knowing the matters all to well. The first came a day or two prior In the form of a telegram. Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother, revealed that an agent of his had gone missing. In itself, the matter was not of immediate consequence. What confirmed its importance was yet another telegram from the Vatican. A collection of highly desirable historical art works, the Cameos, we re en route to London for their world premiere showing. They never arrived. A theft had taken place depriving the Vatican of one of its treasures, the world of their prescence. The incident also placed tremendous diplomatic pressure on the Foreign Office. Mycroft's missing agent had been responsible for their safekeeping. Now both were gone and Holmes was handed the assignment.

"It would seem, Holmes, that the agent is key to this entire mystery. Locate him and you will have found your cameos." "Holmes shook his head. "If it were all that simple, Watson. The agent was undercover, had successfully infiltrated the gang of thieves, had some idea of their plan, telegraphed Mycroft, and was discovered. He returns to England, the original plan obviously altered, and the theft took place between Rotterdam and here. Mycroft had one interview with the agent in London shortly after his return. The second scheduled interview went unmet as the agent, by then, had disappeared. There are too many incidents that go untold and unnoticed."

"Did the agent present Mycroft with the identity of the gang members?"

Holmes resumed his seat opposite me. "Only the names of the lower echelon. The centre-players go unknown. The agent's activities were discovered before he could reach to these men."

We would have continued our discussions on the matter if there had not been a heavy pounding of feet on our staircase and the explosive entry of a man, not more than five and twenty of age, into our rooms.

-

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE - CHAPTER FOUR

[primevein]

The Prime of His Youth: Book III: Prometheus' Gift: Ch28: Why Not?

Japheth laid on his bed as Roxana looked at his leg.

"So?.." Arcee asked, and trailed off, "Can we... without making it worse?"

"If you want to do all the work." Roxana said with a bright smile.

"What are we going to do to risk injuring him more?" Carron asked from the kitchen.

"We?" Arcee asked her.

Arcelia turned towards Carron and took a couple of steps towards her. "Human intimacy, normally between intimate partners."

"Oh, then excuse me." she said, and turned away. Arcelia sent a signal to close the doors.

* * *

Arcelia slipped out of Roxana's grasp as Arcee lay cuddling Japheth. Roxana stood up, and the two walked over to the shower. Arcee leaned up to give him a passionate kiss and slipped from the bed. She slowly sat up and groaned, pausing where she was. Arcee turned around towards him, walking backwards to the shower as they heard it turned on. She gave him a deep look. He nodded his head and laid back down.

"I think we've hurt him enough for a day." Roxana stated.

Arcelia looked up, just now noticing the sun had come up. "Ciel?" he asked.

"Master?" she asked, and a moment later he saw her head looking around the corner. "When is the next portal?"

She disappeared for a moment before her head appeared again, "3 hours."

"Alright, everyone get showered, and then we'll roll out." he stated.

Arcelia's head disappeared and Arcee's head appeared, "We should stop in New Kalis." she stated.

"For recuperation?" Arcelia asked. Arcee pulled back, and no more words could be heard.

* * *

Japheth drove in the sunshine, with Arcee, Arcelia, and Roxana following behind him. Carron flittered above him. "Carron, if you see him again, and he doesn't announce himself, shoot him."

"M... master?.." she nervously asked.

"Just once, unless he draws his chains, then until he stops." Japheth replied.

"M-Master?.." she asked.

"Take a couple seconds between shots." Japheth added.

"M-master!" she affirmed.

"What about me?" Arcee asked.

"Keep a look out incase we need more firepower." Japheth stated.

"Really don't trust him?" Arcee neutrally asked.

"I honestly don't know." Japheth stated, "He's dangerous either way. We'll let the Wreckers find out if that's a good thing."

* * *

The convoy drove into Alden Base. Japheth slowed to a stop as the guard saluted He transformed, returning the salute. The femmes doing the same behind him. He could see a giraffe looking at him over the tents. He transformed into colossus and walked over. Japheth walked over to meet him. "Can I help you?"

"I hear you are recruiting a crew for your ship?" Colossus strongly asked.

"And if we are?" Arcee asked.

"Before..." he spoke strongly, and then trailed off. He steeled himself to continue, "I was an engineer."

"How convenient." Arcee sarcastically stated.

"What was convenient was my inability to get to Africa. And as such was here to entreat you."

Japheth paused for a moment. "What do you think?" Arcee asked him.

He paused a moment longer, "We do need skilled people to join us." he uttered. "What kind of weapons do you have?"

"I surrendered my weapons." Colossus firmly stated. "I did not wish to hurt anyone."

"You don't want to fight?" Arcee asked.

"I was hoping to return to peace." he strongly stated, "But, if I was attacked, I would defend myself with hands. And horns. Luckily, there are few on Terra that would challenge a Cybertronian. There was a couple of would-be poachers, however."

"And?" Arcee expectantly asked.

"And?" Colossus asked, "I turned them over to the local constabulary. You have several local forms of law enforcement that I cannot remember which one."

"And that's all that happened?" Arcee asked.

"Human weaponry cannot hurt a Cybertronian." Colossus stated, "I was able to subdue them simply by taking their weapons."

"They didn't try to run away?" Arcee asked.

"It seems giraffes are far faster." he neutrally said, and shrugged.

"If I wanted you armed?" Japheth asked.

"So long as I would not be the one to start the battle, but join it once it's started." Colossus proudly stated.

Japheth stepped forward and offered him his hand.

"A Human custom." Arcee stated.

Colossus stepped forward and took his hand, giving it a strong grip. Japheth shook it.

* * *

Japheth walked up to their house in New Kalis, with Arcee, Arcelia, Roxana, and Carron walking right behind him. He sent a signal to open the doors and hobbled inside. He turned around on his good leg. "Alright, I still need some time to recouperate."

"Oh, no." Arcee sarcastically, salatiously stated as she sashayed up to him. "What - ever - will - we - do?"

He looked at Carron, "Carron on sentry." he said.

"Yes, master." she affirmed, and seemed immediately relieved.

Japheth looked at Arcelia, "Ciel, I hate to give you more to do."

"But you're going to." Arcee said, as she turned to scowl at Arcelia.

"She's just upset about having to wait." Roxana said. Arcee glared at her, and Roxana replied with a brilliant smile. The two simply stared at each other for a moment before Arcee's scowl broke into a weak smile.

"I need you to look into finding Shockwave." Japheth stated.

"I have been, but have found nothing." Arcelia stated.

Japheth sighed, "I wish Sirenia was here." Arcelia gave him a brilliant smile. "What?" he asked.

"I may have already sent her a message saying how much you miss her." Arcelia coyly stated.

He slowly developed a brilliant smile. "Thank you."

"She totally deserves headpats." Arcee stated.

"The first priority should be medical treatment." Roxana said, and Arcee Tsked.

Japheth hobbled over to the back of the room and eased himself to the ground against the wall. Roxana pulled out her medkit as Arcelia stepped up. She had a brilliant smile as he pet her head. When it was done she stepped back, and the fog cleared. "What did you want with Shockwave?"

"Well?" Japheth asked, "Aside from being a mad scientist we should really keep our eyes on, he's also one of the only ones... maybe the only one alive that understands Star Bridges."

"Oh!" Arcelia asked, and looked distant. She walked over to a corner and kneeled down, pulling out her tablet.

"Sooo?.." Arcee asked.

"Maybe we can just relax?" Japheth asked, reaching up for her.

"Fiiiine." she replied, and then sat down next to him, slip under his arm.

"Carron?" Japheth asked, and she nearly jumped before turning to look at him, "Why don't you tell us about what you used to do?"

Carron gave him a curious look before looking back at the door, "I'm sorry, I am on sentry."

"The door is locked." Japheth stated. "I'm sure we'll notice if someone tries to blow their way in." She looked at the door for a moment. She steeled herself and slowly turned towards him, giving him a nervous, apprehensive look. "Before you were captured, what were you doing?"

"Hiding in New Kalis." she nervously stated.

"Reminder, you're with family." Roxana said without looking up. She got no reply, and so looked at her, "Maybe family is something you don't understand, so how about this? So long as you are serving Japheth Prime, any secrets we reveal about you will hurt us."

"That's a really good point." Arcee stated. "So, you can spill anything you want."

"Or that Japheth wishes you to." Roxana said without looking up.

"What were you hiding from?" Arcee asked.

"The war..." Carron nervously stated.

"I don't know why you are worried about that." Japheth stated, and Carron gave him a lost look, "That's what Siren was running from."

"I wasn't exactly thrilled about the start of the war." Arcee stated, "Oh, sure, I was a true believer, in everything Optimus said, but wasn't a Warrior. I never wanted to be."

"Wars are terrifying things." Japheth stated, "Just because it lasts so long that you think it's normal, doesn't mean it's not horrible. Hell, I tried to just keep quiet, do my own thing..." he said, and sighed.

"It couldn't last forever..." Arcee longingly voiced.

"And now we have to track down the mad scientist that created most of Megatron's warcrimes." Japheth said and sighed.

"Assuming we can find him." Roxana stated. She finished tending to his wounds and started to clean up.

"Why don't you just ask Predaking?" Arcee asked, and Japheth's eyes grew wide. Why didn't he?"

[fandom-puff]

Manhunt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Requested by: anon ‘Hey, I saw that your requests are open. Can I request a Tommy Shelby fic where y/n gets kidnapped, please? Maybe Tommy’s getting extremely angry and worried and only calms down when he gets her back. Of course it’s up to you. Female reader if possible. Thank you so much :)’

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, swearing, injury (result of knife, beatings)

Bold italics = flashback

Gif creds to owner

“Where the fuck’ve you been?” Polly demanded from her desk, arms folded and lips pursed as Tommy stumbled through the door.

“Ah, let him be, Pol,” Arthur grinned, clapping him on the back. “Reckon his head’s still on his honeymoon. Been stuck in bed with the missus all morning, eh, brother?”

Tommy smirked boyishly. “No. Fuckin’ car broke down. Anyway, YN left ours hours ago, said she was seeing Ada before she buggers back off to London,”

At that moment, Ada walked through the door, holding one of John and Esme’s kids on her hip, bouncing him gently. “I haven’t seen YN today, Tom. Didn’t show up to our reservation in that nice cafe. Haven’t heard from her, so I just thought she was with you,”

Tommy frowned deeply. “But... she left at half eight to catch the bus. I told her I’d give her a lift but she said she needed to run a few errands before she met up with you,” he checked his pocket watch quickly. “It’s gone noon. Are you lot sure you haven’t heard from or seen her?”

“Tom, it’s fine, she’s probably just caught up in the shops or something,” John said, lighting a cigarette.

“No. It’s not fucking fine, Johnboy. She left at half eight this morning, stood Ada up in her favourite cafe- and she’s been going on about it for weeks- and no one has seen hide nor hair of her for hours. Something’s wrong,”

Jaw set harshly, Tommy strode out of the betting shop, closely followed by his brothers. “Oi! Finn. Run and tell Sergeant Moss that I said to have a search party out. Tell him YN’s missing. Then on your way back, go to Charlie’s yard and tell him to keep an eye on the canals for her, alright. Good lad,” Finn nodded and began to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

“What about us, Tommy?” Arthur said. “Tell us what to do,”

***

Slowly, your eyes opened, though you still couldn’t see anything- a length of fabric covered your eyes, blocking out all light. Every inch of your body ached, and you became vaguely aware of the stinging sensation at your wrists- they were bound behind your back, the tightly knitted rope rubbing your skin raw. Judging by the slight jostling movement of your body and the hum of an engine below you, you were in a vehicle, being driven god knows where.

Deciding to keep quiet, you took some deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, trying your hardest to recall the previous hours...

***

“I’ll see you later, Tom,” you smiled, giving your grinning husband a final kiss goodbye before setting off to the bus stop. Tommy had offered you a lift, but you declined, saying something about errands and scenery. It was an alright day, by British standards, the sun trying its hardest to peak through the thin clouds.

You were halfway to the bus stop when you felt a presence behind you. Hurrying your steps a little more, knowing the old gentleman from the village would likely be at the stop for his weekly shop, if you could just get around this bend, you dared a look behind you, before colliding head on with something- or rather someone.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” you said, making to step around him, but his arms shot out, grasping onto you while the man behind you yanked a fistful of your hair, tugging your head backwards.

“Don’t you worry, Shelby,” he said, a slight accent lacing his low voice. “You will be,”

You tried to stamp your heels down on the attackers’ shins, you made to bite the hands closest to your face, to wriggle as much as you could. As you began to scream, a damp cloth was held over your nose and mouth, making your eyes roll back and your body slacken, allowing the two men to drag you to their vehicle, hidden by the shrubbery and blossoming trees and the loud caws of the birds.

***

Tommy was in full panic mode. He had Peaky Blinders scouring the whole of Birmingham, Sergeant Moss had managed to telephone the London police and have a telegram sent to every constabulary in the country to keep an eye out. Johnny Doggs had the Lee boys out, and Charlie was stopping every boat the passed through the cut.

Tommy kicked the table in the betting shop, sending papers and coins flying. “Where the fuck is she?” He roared, eyes flashing with some anger, but mostly fear.

“We’re doing everything we can, Thomas,” Polly said firmly, patting her nephews back and pushing a cup of tea into his hands. “It’s well sugared. You need the energy,”

“It’s not fucking enough!” He yelled, taking one sip of the tea before slamming the cup down, sloshing the table. “She could be anywhere and we’re sat here like idiots!”

Polly sighed, retreating to man the phone, waiting for someone, anyone to phone with knowledge of your whereabouts.

“It’ll be alright, brother,” John said. “Esme’s down with the Lees making sure none of them are sat twiddling their thumbs. Moss has every copper in Birmingham on the case. Even the London coppers are looking for a Shelby, and their almost all under Solomons and Sabini,”

Tommy was quiet for a moment before he looked between his brothers. “Solomons and Sabini...” he said slowly, processing the information before his face hardened.

“Solomons is a mad bastard,” Arthur said quietly.

“Right. Car, now. We’re going to London,”

***

The blind fold was removed, but you still couldn’t see much. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the room you were in was plunged in almost complete darkness. Your hands were still tied, only now they (along with your ankles) were bound to a chair. You tried to shuffle the chair along, but it made a loud grating scraping noise, and caused a blinding pain to shoot through your nerves. Something was definitely broken.

“Shelby,”

The voices echoed around the room as you heard the men draw closer, their footsteps rapping sharply against the concrete ground. You strained your good eye, trying to make out their faces, but you could only make out vague face shapes, plunged in shadows.

“I told you, I don’t have any information!” You said urgently, preparing yourself for another punch or kick.

It didn’t come. Instead you felt the cold edge of a thin blade pressing against your swollen cheek. He dragged the blade slowly and you hissed as your cheek bloomed with stinging pain, feeling your hot blood trickle down your face and neck.

“We don’t want information,” the other man said lowly as you felt the tip of the knife press against your neck briefly. You held your breath, preparing for the worst, before the blade dropped. You let out a shaky breath of relief, which quickly turned into a groan of pain as a thick finger dragged along the fresh wound. “We don’t need one of Shelby’s whores for information,” you shut your eyes tightly, willing your tears not to fall. “We want to destroy Tommy Shelby,”

***

“Thomas! Thomas! Stop the fucking car now!”

The car squealed to a halt and Tommy almost tripped over his own feet in his haste. “This had better be good, Pol,” he growled, grabbing hold of the phone. “Speaking,”

“That you, Tommy?”

Tommy gritted his teeth. “Aye, Solomons. Make it quick. I’ve no time for business now,”

“Yeah, I know, right. Right fuckin’ fuss you’ve kicked up, yeah. Looking for that wife of yours, I heard. Well, Tommy, my coppers have been out and about , right, searchin’ high and fuckin’ low. Found nothin’ right,”

“Alfie,” tommy hissed. “I’m on my way down to London, now. If you’ve got no information, I don’t wanna hear any of your fuckin’ stories, alright?”

“Oi, you watch your tone, Tommy. I’m getting there. See now, Ollie’s missus’s got a friend whose friend is the wife of a fuckin’ wop, right. She says, right, that your wife, YN, had been on Sabini’s fuckin’ hit list from the very start. He’s got his coppers trying to dismiss this ever so mysterious disappearance, right. But my coppers, yeah, Tommy, you followin’?”

“I’m following,” tommy said through gritted teeth.

“Right, well my coppers have received a tip off from one of Sabini’s coppers that there’s some funny business going on in the old abandoned warehouse, you know the one, the one up in Cheltenham, what the anarchists set fire to,”

“You sure, Alfie?”

“Course I’m fuckin’ sure. Off you go, Tommy,”

***

How long you had been on the floor for, you had no idea. Your arms and legs were no longer bound- not that it made any difference. You couldn’t move without a fresh round of pain turning your stomach. Tears mixed with blood on your cheeks; you could barely keep your eyes open; you lay next to a pool of your own vomit due to the pain; your clothes were soaking with your own blood and urine; you were ready to die.

***

Gunshots. Three of them.

Three voices shouting, although you couldn’t distinguish what they were saying.

The door swung open, flooding the room with light. You made to lift your head up off the floor, but sobbed in agony.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

“YN, it’s alright, I’m here! They’re gone, I’ve got you,”

You felt the familiar warm hands on your body, the strong arms lifting you, the distinct smell. But you couldn’t open your eyes- you were simply too tired.

“Tommy...” you breathed, one hand bunched up in his coat.

“Shhh, I’m here, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you help, okay, my love. Don’t you worry one bit, okay?”

You nodded, trusting your eyes to shut, knowing that this time, tommy would be there to shake you awake, preventing you from giving into the darkness.