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I find you in my fears
and in my fascination,
I taste you in safe water and it drowns me.

late nights

You shiver and pull your jacket tighter around you, casting a wary eye around the simultaneously bright and dark city around you. Even this late, the streetlights and various convenience stores and late-night bars cast sharp planes of light where there should be shadows, and this makes the alleyways and sketchier streets seem even more gloomy and ominous than you'd prefer. There are few people out at this time—in the past hour you've only passed several bums and the occasional insomniac out for a walk. In other words, nobody who would stop to help you if someone...if something happened. If you could just hurry and get to the subway, you assure yourself as you pass a graffiti-covered building, everything will be okay. That is, assuming the tracks were open this late...

Got any change?" a homeless man wheezes from a doorway. His pale eyes follow you blearily as you pass with a nervous glance.
No, sorry," you mumble, making your way quickly. You stop with a little intake of breath as the man gets up, faster than you would have thought him able, and steps in front of you.
I think..." He stops with a a hacking cough, and you wrinkle your nose at the stench of sour breath and unwashed clothes. "Hrrh. I think ya do. Kids like yer don' usually come ta this side of town wivout nuffink in their pockets." He leers at you through his tangled, grimy beard, and you try to step back without actually looking like you're getting away from him.
No," you say, looking around you desperately. The streets are empty, save for some person with shopping bags walking in the opposite direction. There are some people in the bar across from you, but even if you screamed loudly enough you doubt anyone would come to your aid. You turn back to the hobo, who's been shuffling intently forward as you've been moving back; you haven't put any distance between yourself and him. "I really don't have anything. You're making a mistake.
He coughs again, putting one hand in his pocket. "We'll see who's makin' the mishtake here, ehh?" Your eyes widen as he pulls out a short knife. The metal is dull and smeared, but the blade looks sharp and like it means business. The homeless man's grin grows wider as he continues walking towards you, now waving the knife back and forth in short, slashing motions. "Now fork over the money. There's a kid, don' make me tells ya twice.

Panicked, you turn and start to run, managing to yell "help!" before you feel someone yank your shirt collar back, cutting you off with a yelp. You smell the hobo's rank breath and almost gag, then stiffen in terror as you feel the edge of the knife settle against your throat.
Hrh. Whaddid I...tell ya!" The hobo is roaring in your ear. He drags you over to the concrete wall and braces you against it, grappling your throat with one hand and waving the knife in your face with the other. He bares what few teeth he has in a grimace, eyes bulging. "Now I'ma hafta teach yer a lesson. Ain't got no manners. Gotta reshpect yer elders.
Your think desperately—maybe if you tried to punch...but no, then the hobo would just cut your throat, easy as anything. You're about to take another breath, thinking to yell for help again, when you hear a voice say "drop the kid.

Eh?" The hobo turns, not taking the knife away. You strain to look at the person while trying to avoid the blade—it's the one you'd seen with the grocery bags. She's a lean, scruffy girl—just barely a woman—with blue hair and odd eyes. She's standing loosely, looking at you and the hobo with an almost quizzical look on her face.
You silently mouth "help me!" at her, and her mouth curls into a bright smile.
You heard me," she says to the hobo. "Drop the kid.
An' what's some piesh of skin like you gonna do ter shtop me?" The hobo turns back to you with a wheezing laugh. "There ain't no hope fer ya. Now jus' stay still an—

You jump with violent surprise as the girl nails the hobo in the temple with a sudden roundhouse kick. The hobo falls away with a muffled roar, gripping his head, and the girl quickly flicks his dropped knife away, where it clatters into a gutter. She straightens and sees you standing there, mouth agape, and says tersely "what are you waiting for? Run!
You little—
You try to shout out a warning as the hobo staggers over to her and wraps his arms around her neck in a throttling hold, lifting her clear off the ground. She gives a short shriek of surprise before her air is cut off, and begins to trash wildly against the larger man's bulk. You hesitate, caught between fleeing and staying to help (but what on earth can you do?), but the girl catches your eye and wheezes, "run, kid—
You do.

After running down several streets, you stop and collapse against a wall, gasping for breath. The lights are brighter here, and it's a busier part of the city, but you don't feel any better. You put your hand over your mouth as you think of your unknown savior, who you left behind to fight on her own. Not that you know what you could have done to help her, but you still feel awful knowing that she sacrificed herself to save you. You'd just closed your eyes and let your head drop back in despair when you hear footsteps coming toward you; you jump up with a gasp, but slump in relief when you see that it's the blue-haired girl trotting towards you, looking as satisfied as a cat with a bowl of cream. You walk to meet her under a streetlight.

It's you! And I thought you were..." You trail off.
A goner?" she finishes, with a sly grin. "Please! Your confidence in my skills astounds me. I knocked the guy out cold, easy as pie. But look what he did to my milk and cookies," she adds with a pout, lifting one grocery bag to show you. Both containers are crushed, and a thin trail of milk and crumbs dribbles from the torn bag as she gives it a shake. "Now that's just...ugh. What kind of loser would do that to my late-night snack?
Oh." You hang your head shamefacedly. "I'm sorry.
You should be, kiddo. What were you doing out here so late anyway?
I was trying to get home. I couldn't find a subway...
She nods knowingly, smile growing wider. Despite the somewhat frightening way her eyes catch the light (the left a vivid pink, and the right chemical blue—maybe she's wearing contacts?), you find yourself liking the girl and her easy confidence. Not to mention the way she came to your rescue...yeah, that too.
She motions for you to follow and begins to walk down the street. "I'll take you there, no problem. It's a bit of a hike though, because they're doing some construction work on the rails around here. So how about we tell each other a little about ourselves along the way? I'm Mokhee," she says, jabbing a thumb at herself. "Mokhee Powell! But that's Mo to you unless you want me to punch your lights out, got that?
Uhh, okay," you say, trying to keep up with her brisk, loping gait. "I'm—
Lucky is what you are!" she crows.
See?" Mo gives you a pleased smile. "That's Baldeziwurlikistan for 'lucky'.
You decide to ignore her this time, instead looking at her sidelong. " did you know how to take care of that guy?" Sure, it's New York City—isn't it supposed to have something like the highest crime rate in the country? Or was that thirty years ago? But you're pretty sure that not every passing civilian would stick their neck out for a complete stranger.
Oh. Hrm, well," Mo says, putting a hand over her smile and glancing at you with narrowed eyes, as though she's done something bad. "I'm a cop actually. New York's Finest! But look, you don't gotta be a copper to know how to deal with scum," she continues. "Rule number one—pepper spray or Mace! Rule number two—if somebody's harassing you run into a bar and tell the bartender! I dunno about you but every bartender I've known keeps a little something behind that counter.
I thought we were talking about you," you say grumpily. You don't feel like discussing this after nearly getting mugged.
Were we?" Mo says cheerily.

carry on, constable


Name: Mokhee Powell
Pronounced: MOH-kee
Gender: female
Age: up to early twenties
DOB: February 14
Family: dad, mum, siblings

  Occupation: police officer (NYPD)
Residence: NYC / Shukumei
Personality: optimistic, stubborn, straightforward
Talents: combat, morals
Faults: reckless, hero complex

I like~
dinosaurs, comics, basketball, pastry, Chinatown, army thrift stores, ska, heights, PVC, dance music, rain, sandwiches, raspberries

I don't like.
losing, businessmen, long dresses, gold, political correctness, promiscuity, condescending superiors, raw blueberries

Personality: Mokhee is the playful tomboy of the Powell family—quirky, optimistic, and endearing, yet with an inborn sense of justice and a fervent desire to squash evildoers. Her fiercely protective nature rarely comes as a surprise to others; Mo is passionate in both her loves and hates, and would risk life and limb to defend her family and friends. This is why, when wrongdoing comes from within the family, she is resentful and more hurt than she would ever admit—nothing makes her feel more helpless than being unable to save those she loves most.
Moravera is a constant source of worry for Mokhee. She alternatively avoids her and seeks her out, either to relive more carefree times or to try talking her out of her decadent ways. Because of the stress this causes (which makes her sloppy at work), Mo prefers to spend time with Kiohmo, but is often frustrated by her timidity and unwillingness to take risks. Growing up between such extremes, as well as with the pressures of a large family, Mo has developed the capacity to be both kind and cruel, gentle and fierce, chaste and risque, as the situation demands. She can be erratic and unpredictable, however, in situations that confuse her.

A life of privilege has made Mo stubborn and headstrong, if not actually demanding. While she goes out of her way to spend as little of the family's money as possible, she is rather spoiled in personality and hates when things don't go her way. She likes to make up her own rules where circumstance allows; in her later years she learns to use her femininity to gain the upper hand, although she maintains her own morals and stays well away from Vera's style. Mo also has to learn that few conflicts can be solved with a fist, and that some people deserve second chances. It's a lesson that the police force has yet to fully teach her, although she's been making progress.

Physique: Mo stands just between her closest sisters Vera and Kio in height, at around 5'8". She is lean and finely muscled from dedicated training in various areas, and has superb strength and reflexes. Against a much larger opponent, however, brute force could easily subdue her—Mo's real skills here come in her speed, agility, and finesse. Because of her physical prowess she is often given unusual or demanding assignments in the police force, and she rises to the occasion time and time again, as is only expected.  
She doesn't care too much for makeup or taming her unruly hair. Mo was often mistaken for a boy as a child, and occasionally still is if she happens to wear bulky clothes. On the rare occasions that she permits Ruefayel or her sisters to doll her up, though, she fairly shines with her animated, admittedly pretty features and lithe figure—although she has never compared (or even wanted to) with Vera in terms of devastating beauty. Mo is graceful on her feet if a little violent in her movements. She has accidentally hurt people with a playful gesture, and hates conventional dancing because "the man always tries to lead".

Mo prefers function over fashion, although she doesn't mind not having to choose. She will as easily wear an old school sweatshirt as a latex tube top, and prefers neutral colors and rugged textures over anything pastel or ruffly. Although she doesn't mind wearing her uniform on the job, if she can avoid it Mo will instead opt for tight jeans and synthetics and layer them with an old jacket, for greater mobility.

Her goggles were a graduation gift from her godmother Rauline. They have infrared and night vision overlays, activated by hidden buttons in the frames, and (although Mo doesn't know it) an automatic alert system in case they're damaged.
Her star markings translate to tattoos as a human. She leaves her bangs long to hide the blue star on her brow.
She collects Hello Kitty—or more accurately, Rauline once gifted Mo a Hello Kitty wristwatch, and since then people have donated to her growing collection of stuffed toys and stationary, believing that she has an affinity for cute cartoon cats.
Mo is highly social and frequents clubs, but more for the sake of people-watching and dancing on her own—she doesn't appreciate mens' attentions unless she makes the first move herself.
If in roleplay you want Mo to be an active police officer, she will have to be at least 21 to accommodate New York law.  

this and that

imageI know that you're really not supposed to eat junk food or sugary things, especially if you have to stay in shape like me, but I can't help it—I have the biggest sweet tooth! I love ice cream and soda and pastry, but my one true love is donuts. Don't laugh—I know it's a cop stereotype. Donuts are really just the most convenient thing to grab for a bite if you've finished working really late and everything else is closed. I mean, IHOP and Denny's are open along with the donut and coffee shops, but who's gonna sit down and wait for food? We don't have time to waste! So we do Krispy Kreme or Dunkin Donuts instead. Sometimes we can even get free coffee! Some of my friends don't like sweet pastry and prefer getting these sausage and egg croissants, all dripping with cheese and goop, but yours truly prefers a good old jelly donut or Boston Creme. Or New York, I get hungry just thinking about it.

imageDespite what Ruefayel and some of my family think, I really do like clothes. I just don't see the point of going around in stuff that adds up to quadruple-digits. I mean, come on, are you really gonna enjoy yourself while worrying about getting mud on your Jimmy Choos? Special chili sauce on your Balenciaga skirt? Puh-lease. Even though we're a privileged family, my thing is thrift stores, especially vintage and army. You can find stuff that's almost as good as designer and much, much less expensive. My favorite is Kaufman's Army & Navy—even though the place looks like a mess, if you dig around a bit you can always find the perfect overcoat or pair of boots. The one thing I always keep an eye out for, though, no matter what the store, is black leather jackets. I probably have about a dozen of them, from short, thin ones for the summer to fluffy bomber jackets for the winter. They're essential.

imagePaint! I like paint! I'm not an artist or anything, I just like bright colors and making a mess. When I was a bit younger I dabbled in some graffiti art, actually—nothing bad, of course, just cute things like a Totoro by a bus station, or Mario jumping out of an exposed pipeline. You know, things to brighten up peoples' days, rather than to deface property and make the neighborhood look ugly. I was never caught and nobody got hurt so it was all okay, but I stopped doing graffiti just on principle, since I was going to be a cop and I'm pretty sure mum an' dad wouldn't be happy to know about it all anyway. Sometimes I still like buying some aerosols and spraying some cartoon character around authorized graffiti areas, or I'll even just buy a pint of house paint and splash it on a big canvas in my cheap loft apartment. The best thing is getting some paint on your hands and feet and dancing patterns all over the canvas. It's great stress relief!

image I read lots of comics when I was younger, and that's pretty much what made me want to be a police officer when I grew up. Mum always said it wasn't ladylike to read that stuff, but dad relented, probably because he was happy for anything that would keep me sitting quietly for more than five minutes at a time. So my childhood readings included the comic pages from dad's newspapers and, mostly, superhero comics. I'd read Batman all the time, and my favorite superhero turned out to be—Catwoman! Even though she isn't always on the good side, I loved her because she'd never compromise her own values. I wanted to be brave and strong like her. I wanted...well, okay, not only to go leaping around the city like a deranged spider monkey, but also to help people and protect my family. After that, a cop seemed the most logical choice that didn't involve spandex or secret identities.

image It's not something I advertise, but I play tenor sax as a hobby. See, when us kids were young our parents decided to have us each pick out an instrument we liked and try it for a couple of years. If we weren't so big into the music we were allowed to drop it—and if we still wanted to keep playing, they'd continue paying for music lessons. Now, at home it was hard for me to keep up music, even if I'd been sure that's what I wanted to do, because the saxophone was loud and you'd have Vera being the spoiled prima donna thinking she was the only one allowed to pursue the arts! We used to get into little tussles over whose turn it was to be noisy, with Vera sulking for days afterward if dad let me play my sax over her piano. Now that I have my own place I've started getting back into regularly playing again, and I've even had a few offers to tour with such-and-such band. But, honestly? I won't ever go into the music industry.

image Ooh, the city. It's not like I haven't been other places, mind you—we've all been coming to Shukumei since us kids were old enough to walk, and we've also vacationed at several lovely spots over the years, California and Chicago and such. But when you boil down to it New York City's my home and always will be. There's nothing like it, not anywhere else in the world—from New Year festivities in Chinatown, to the smell of honey roasted peanuts as you're walking past one of those Nuts 4 Nuts carts, and the "stars, and the cars, and the barmen"! What I also love about NYC is the sheer variety. You get designer outlets and theatres alongside cheap dollar stores and clubs, the shine of corporate buildings against the grit and dark of alleys, and the wonderful, maddening irony of having big ole Central Park sitting smack dab in the middle of the original concrete jungle. This is life, and living! To be perfectly trite—I NY.

the family

imagePops is the best! Even though he's all quiet and sensible and sometimes says it would be nice if I could just sit still for a coupla minutes, he's really the greatest papa anyone could ask for. He doesn't judge any of us, or get all angry if we stay out a little past curfew or whatever—although he does get kinda scary if one of us did something stupid and dangerous. Ehehe...I would know. He talked mum into letting me be a cop despite the risks, because he wants his children to all be happy and that's what's important.

image I love Mum, I really do. She can be a little demanding sometimes—I've lost track of how many times she's asked me to do something about my hair, or wondered out loud why I couldn't try and look a little neater like the other girls. I think she worries that I'm too tomboyish and won't ever find a boyfriend or, like, live a normal life! And you should've seen her when I said I was going to join the police force...brr. But mum has almost single-handedly provided for this family, and still loves each and every one of us despite our quirks and flaws.

imageLunuhris is our aunty! She doesn't live in New York (far from it, actually) so we don't see as much of her as we'd like. She also has powers like dad—and if I understand it, hers are even greater than his mist control and thought projection. Only, we never get to see them beyond a little telekinesis at parties! Lunuhris said a long time ago that she might teach us some skills one day, but none of us has learned anything yet—I think she's deliberately avoiding the subject. I guess it's for the best, but...

Raw is our mom's best friend and...well, special. A former underground bio-mechanic turned respectable surgeon, she's still kind of crazy and unorthodox in her practices. As soon as she learned that I wanted to be a cop, it was ocular implants this and skeletal enhancements that! I told her I wanted to tough it out with my real, natural body, so she relented and even made me a pair of custom goggles to compromise. These days it's Raw who patches me up if I get hurt on the job, which is, well, regularly.

imageRuefayel is kinda...I dunno, weird. Anyway, he's Raw's brother or cousin or something, and a big-shot fashion guy in the city, so he's always giving our family designer clothes and bags and stuff. He likes the challenge of finding outfits and accessories to match our personalities as well as our looks, which is why he gets annoyed when I insist on shopping thrift. But still, I can't complain—he did find me the perfect leather evening dress that's tough, but still pretty. Nobody could say that I looked too tomboyish then.

imageRen always felt like the oldest of us, even though we were all born at the same time. He's really takes after dad as the solid, quiet voice of reason, so the rest of us kids often go to him for advice that we can't really talk about with our parents. Although, I don't like to bother him because I expect he would have his own problems, right? What I think is really great is how he emotionally supports the rest of us just with his presence, even though Kio is his special friend. And he's a great cook just like dad!

imageMorty is kinda like the weird, mad scientist brother in this family! He's a little standoffish, often dabbles in stuff he shouldn't (it's bad enough that Vera comes home smelling like smoke every day, does he have to also?), and it's also really hard to get a laugh outta him, but Morty's not actually a bad guy or anything. He's real good with the rest of our siblings, doesn't pick stupid fights or arguments with our parents, and he's always game for some playful wrestling. I love sparring with this guy.

imageVera, ugh. If it's possible to really love someone and hate them at the same time, that's my feelings about her. She's smart, talented, possibly the most beautiful out of all of us kids, and yet she chooses to risk it all on cheap parties and substance abuse like some kind of—some kind of idiot! Not only that, but she seems to take real delight in hurting the people around her, especially men. Like she's a child playing games. I just hope somebody can help her, because I've tried and made a mess of it.

imageKio is such a sweet girl, you'd never find a kinder heart if you tried. I just think sometimes she's a little too sweet. Like come on, kiddo, it wouldn't hurt you to toughen up! It's not that she isn't brave—I've seen Kio snarl up at people twice her size, right when we'd least expect it—but she backs down so easily when somebody intimidates her. It's a matter of confidence, I said, and if you think you're awesome it doesn't matter what other people think. But she either can't or won't believe how smart and pretty she is.

imageTango tango tango! She's the clever one around here, at least academically. Either she manages to study a lot when nobody's looking or she's got an encyclopedia in her head. But even with those booksmarts, Tango isn't any less fun to be around. You can always talk to her if you need help with something, and she's a great dancer if you can persuade her—not just her namesake, but ballroom dancing as well. She's tried teaching me but I can't get the hang of it, she says I'm too aggressive. Oh well!

Oh, imageLexi is a fright! She's another one of the "girly" girls in the family, but she also thinks outside of the box quite a lot. She says the most interesting things sometimes—although I'm not sure if she means them to be funny or not. She also looks out for little Ruexo. They often go for walks in Central Park, and Lexi kinda makes sure Ruexo doesn't get into any trouble. It's really cute how well they get along...until they get to scheming on how to snitch my almond cookies, that is. You have to watch out for those two!

imageRuexo has it a little rough sometimes, him being the smallest in the family and blind in one eye, but he's really okay. He's kind of the silent type, but when he does talk you can tell how positive and brave he is. Everyone in the family is good to him, especially his partner-in-crime Lexi. Still, I think he's kinda sensitive about his eye—but when I talked to Raw about it she shook her head and said that's not something she could fix, which is weird because she can fix everything. Ruexo tells me it's okay, though, and not to worry about him.

friends and...not friends

imageWon-won!—or Ron as he'd really prefer to be called, haha—is someone I haven't actually met properly. I've only seen him around the house a few times when Kio brings him over. Ron owns a soda shop, apparently—you know, the 50's kind with all the works. Soda fountain, spinning chairs, malteds and ice cream and floats and all other kinds of concoctions. I'm like, get out of here, they closed those places down years ago! But Kio won't actually tell me where the shop is; she's prolly scared I'll blurt out something embarrassing to Ron.

image You know, I think it's bizarre that most people (namely my stupid sister Vera and her even stupider squeeze!) don't seem to like Miss Comedy. They say she's loud, annoying, invasive—in my opinion she's refreshingly honest and altogether quite charming. I think she's a singer, too, so you'd think Vera would at least get along better with her! But what I don't understand is Tragedy—I guess that's either Comedy's alter ego, or there must be a twin sister swapping places at opportune times. Well, whatever, it's nice to have someone other than me poking fun at "Lydia and Mr. Wickham"!

image Oh, Leon. I don't know what to think about him. I thought he was a nice person and pretty cool (for a businessman, anyway) until I found out that he's been seeing Vera on the sly. So then I thought, that's it, the gentlemanly image was a front and he's actually a huge slimeball. But then, he did give Kio a stable job, and he tries to protect Vera from...well, herself. I think he genuinely tries to be good and just keeps making dumb mistakes. Hmph, he'd better smarten up if he's going to keep seeing Vera like this, or I won't stand for it.

imageDon't get me started on Reilly. He's trouble. Smelly, sleazy, a petty criminal and an addict. And that hair! Even if he'd wash that mop he'd still look like a bum. Not to mention his voice, cute accent I'll admit, but if he tries to start singing do yourself a favor and shut him up cause it sounds like a cat being beaten to death. And to top it off he's just a dirty rotten influence. And spite of everything sometimes I get the feeling that Reilly's not a bad person himself, just that he got dealt a bad hand. I don't know. Don't ask me.

faithful companion

image When we were young, our parents thought it best that we each have our own pet, to foster responsibility and caring and all that. They'd take little detours with us while shopping and go into pet stores, and ask us which kind of animal we liked best. Once they had an idea of what we wanted, mum ordered our pets from quality breeders and had them waiting for us when we came back from school. Everyone was so, so happy!
So of course Vera gets the one with the best looks and lousiest personality. That would be her black garfir—she calls it Lady, but I've never seen anything further from a lady in temperament. It looks cute, all right, but then you try and get close and it turns into nothing but fangs and talons and a venomous scorpion tail. And Kio has her faerie tasu, Topaz—and even though I think it's kinda of boring because it doesn't do anything but cuddle all the time, you have to admit it's kinda heart-melting and sappy when you see Topaz curled in Kio's lap while they're watching a movie.

Now about mine—when I was first looking at the pets in the shop windows, playing with their toys or snoozing or whatever, I wanted all of them! That is, I couldn't really decide what one pet I would want as my own. They were all great. I'd always admired mama's Imogen—you should see the way she flies around the house to warm up in the morning, so pretty! And then papa's droolik looks really cool, even though Tazz just lies around sunbathing all day.
At first I thought I wanted a pandaphant, since I kind of have panda eyes, but they were beyond even mum's budget. So then I thought about a spardel, or a noil, or...
Eventually our parents decided on a gallion, and boy were they right on that—it was perfect! I called my gallion Zilla because she was like a mini Godzilla. The other kids were kind of scared of her because she had horns, and talons, and could breath fire, but I read books and made sure to train her, so that she wouldn't hurt other people. The only problem with Zilla is, she doesn't get along with other pets that great. I blame Vera, because she never did much to stop Lady from pestering Zilla, to the point where they'd start fighting and we wouldn't be able to separate them—at least, until Zilla would start breathing smoke and the fire alarms would go off and scare both of them. Zilla still gets pretty competitive around other pets, so these days I either walk her late at night or really early in the morning. It works for both of us since my work hours can be pretty irregular.


imageShukumei is practically our second home, what with dad and aunty coming from there. When we were young mum would sometimes bring us there in little groups and drop us off somewhere—like in the Nohara grasslands, or the Kudashima fruit island—and sort of leave us until dusk to explore the lands' wonders on our own. We weren't always thrilled about this, mind you! Kio was usually scared of getting her fur dirty, or of falling into a pond, and Vera was...well, herself, meaning she relieved her boredom by getting Kio dirty or pushing her into ponds. But when you get down to it practically all of us are more comfortable in the city.
So our first trip to Shukumei was...well, interesting. Mum had paired Vera and Kio up with me, which meant that the whole trip somebody was upset with what everyone else was doing—usually Kio, because she hadn't wanted to stray too far from where mum left us. Soon we got lost and ended up off the island and in a strange canyon, or maybe you'd call in a gorge, where we made the acquaintance of a very strange person. I won't tell you what went down, but let's just say it was perhaps the only time in my life that I'd ever been truly frightened.

But Shukumei itself isn't a bad place. Just...magical. It's been the site for some truly wonderful happenings, and it's full of kind-hearted people and characters. I've heard some ugly rumors that the Shukumei community is full of snobs, and lemme just tell you right now that if anyone says that to my face I'll—I'll smack them with a mackerel! Most of Shukumei's members are actually really nice and generous and not at all stuck-up. So if you're daunted by the application process—don't be. Keep your chin up and don't be hatin'.

looks familiar...

Mo's reference:

Art of Mokhee! Click and drag to your address bar to see the full image.

by Doomy

by others


appreciations, nominations

We all love Tiffany & Co. Since we were very young our mother would often take us along to Tiffany's, and it was something all of us—greedy Vera, starry-eyed Kio, and even me, the tomboy of the family—would look forward to. Now, following events in the past few years, when a certain—ahem—businessman gave us all Tiffany jewelry to cover up special attentions to my sister, you'd think that I would've lost my taste for diamonds and so on. Sapphires earrings, unfortunately, yes (hmph, can't you tell what a man thinks of you by the earrings he buys you? Surely this isn't the case they mean), but really, you don't just wipe away a whole childhood's worth of fond memories and love for all-that-glitters!

Now, how this relates to you, dear visitor. This isn't an award so much as...appreciation, whether for excellent art, excellent writing, great coding or just a golly gee swell character. For that you get a little Tiffany box from yours truly containing, well, whatever you like. Oh, don't look at me like that, the Powells have money to waste on talent! And don't you worry about this being a jewelry box, either, Tiffany's got things for men as well—watches and cuff links and so on.
Before all that, though, a few rules since I'm being so generous.

Don't edit the signature or label!
Always link back to this page.
You can apply for the award to Doomy or recommend someone else—ask for details.
No: theft of any kind, offsite pages, hard-to-view pages, er...boring, unoriginal work
Yes: other species, unfinished pages (be reasonable, however!), human or anthro, collaborative/multi-page work




aw! thanks! ^3^

You scream for

...WAAAUGH. 8|

Requests: OPEN to Shukumei and friends
Trades: OPEN


★ Don't steal them, or I will come after you.
★ Link back to this page.
★ When asking for a trade, keep in mind I expect some quality in return.
★ these are adoptables made for the Neopets site. Don't take them off Neo unless I give you permission to.
★ If I promised you an adopt and you still haven't gotten it, drop me a mail.
★ enjoy!

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little minions


50 x 50

80 x 32

take a cab...


silent cruise

You walk down the city streets with Mo, listening as she tells you about her family. She punctuates her story with exaggerated grimaces and sudden flaps of her hands, but even in the dim light you can see the warmth and affection in her eyes as she talks about her parents and siblings. You find yourself laughing at her stories of parties, accidents, scandal, all told with great enthusiasm even where you can hear some subdued note of regret in her voice.
She wasn't kidding when she said the way was a hike. The trip has taken you down not only brightly lit corporate rows, but also some dingy alleys and parking lots, scruffy grasses growing up between the cracks in the asphalt and smashed bottles littering the ground—probably Mo's idea of a shortcut. A few other bums and equally grimy characters track you with blank, inquisitive looks as you pass, sending an anxious shiver up your spine, but something about your companion keeps them at bay. Perhaps it's her striding, purposeful gait, or the way she glares—mismatched eyes blazing hot and cold, and utterly unforgiving—whenever someone makes as if to follow. Either way, your walk passes without incident.

Mo takes you to a lonely, green-lit subway station, stopping inside a 24-hour donut shop close by before leading the way down to the platform. You're silently relieved about this—you were worried that you'd have to spend hours alone waiting for a train to arrive. Mo offers you some of her jelly donut, even though you'd refused her offer to buy you your own in the shop, but you take a bite anyway to placate her.
It's another half hour before a distantly incoming train lights the tunnel.
Looks like this is it, kiddo," Mo says, turning to you. "D'you know your way from here?
Yeah. I'll be fine." You hesitate as the train rushes in, and raise your voice to make yourself heard over the roar, "listen—thank you, so much. I'm really sorry about what happened, I don't know what I would've done—
Hey, don't worry about it! Just...try not to get in trouble again, okay?" Mo winks—her right eye, so that the pink glows warmly at you. "I can't rescue you every time, y'know.
Yeah, well...thanks. I'll do my best.
You hold out your hand to shake, but Mo just pulls you into a wiry hug and even gives you a swift peck on the cheek, the way you would a friend. "Alright, then, I'm counting on you!" she says, stepping back with a grin. You board the train, sitting across from the only other passenger—a dumpy old lady, asleep and gently snoring—and as the train jolts and begins to leave the station, you turn in your seat to wave goodbye to Mo, but...the platform is already empty.

Mokhee and page content ©Doomy/coffeeguts.
Catwoman ©DC Comics; art used ©Adam Hughes.
Paint macro photography ©Linden Gledhill.
Other characters and work (adoptables, etc.) ©their respective owners.

Do not use/copy/etc.

(Velveteen by Yoko Kanno) Press ESC to silence.

A big thank you to Tawreh and Tori for letting me adopt Mokhee
and making the Powell family possible. You guys are the best.