#OC tag: Hack Rat

[artist-kreating-stuff]

Finals are over and I was bored, so I decided to draw my Ninjago OC Eli in the Monkie Kid style!

I’ve never drawn in the Monkie Kid style before, so I used a template made by the amazing @rinkunokoisuru ! They’re incredibly talented with drawing in the Monkie Kid style, so I highly recommend that you check out their work! The template I used is also on their page, along with other versions!

This turned out surprisingly better than I thought it would for my first attempt, so I might draw more characters in this style - I guess we’ll see!

(BTW, I will most likely draw Eli’s hair differently every time I draw her because I suck at keeping a consistent style with dreadlocks.)

Template I used:

[preemshots]

oc smash or pass

tagged by @theloverstemperance tagging ANYONE who wants to do this but hasn't yet. please tag me as the person who tagged you so i can read about your OC :D rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

BASICS

Full Name: NV ("nut v". i never picked a real full name, but it's also not valerie or vincent lmao) Nickname: V Age: 27 in 2077 Height: 5'10" Eyes: Black Kiroshi "The Oracle" with red emissive pupil UI Gender: nonbinary Pronouns: they/she; masc>femme nouns Sexuality: yeah. (bi/pan/queer/poly all of the above)

PROS

obvious: NV is outwardly reserved and focused most of the time; brow furrowed, slight resting grump face. but they're also terrible at hiding what they're feeling and it's easy to break this focus. if they like you, they'll react strongly to you--usually with snark, bold suggestions, or by getting flustered.

dependable sucker: prefers to serve others before self, and once making a choice follows through with it (even if they know they'll regret it or have been deceived).

observant: pays attention to every detail of everything they can, will randomly give you the most thoughtful gift or something you mentioned needing/wanting but forgot about.

enduring: can tolerate a lot--physically, mentally, emotionally, even without certainty of reward at the end.

switch: their dynamic depends on the person, but generally are top-leaning. they are just as eager to struggle for dominance as they are to be put in their place.

work hard, play hard mentality: they overwork to justify seeking pleasure and good times, believing strongly in indulgent treats and blowing off steam--and most importantly, treating others.

1TB SDD memory: their sense of humanity is extremely dependent upon their connections with others above all else, whether close/personal, casual/transactional, or human/AI. they will not forget you.

cybernetically enhanced: stronger than average, but they're made of mostly doll parts, so you know. pleasure enhancements are included >:3

CONS

thrill seeker: they constantly want to test the limits of their cybernetic body in ridiculous ways--whether with new, dangerous drugs, by jumping off buildings in corpo plaza, or watching hacked BDs. their cybernetics aren't even particularly strong; they deliberately choose cheap/basic models and are more than willing to blow money on repairs/replacement parts.

rat: refuses to buy food unless it's for others. they'll openly steal food off tables as they pass by random people dining on the street to get the very limited caloric intake they need. if that fails, they'll even eat something off the ground if it doesn't look too gross.

deeply unwell: it's not just the creepy look of the kiroshis; years of cybernetic replacements have eroded NV's sense of humanity. while there's no risk of a full blown cyberpsychotic breakdown, a sort of gnawing omnipresent craving for violence lives inside them, something they consistently indulge in on a small scale via work when the opportunity presents itself. though it's not enough to motivate their decisions, they do enjoy the excuse.

the fool: their sense of identity is largely defined by choice and the guilt that follows. nudging them into misguided choices is not particularly difficult.

indifferent reaper: they are acutely aware of the nature of merc work, how often they're required to pass judgement on behalf of others whom they may not agree with, as well as how often they are given the unique opportunity to pass life-or-death judgement themselves. but even when executing something they feel is right, they don't really believe in greater moral justice, only luck and bad luck.

feral: the relic and johnny's influence prevent further decay of their humanity but also exacerbate a tendency to overindulge in all their vices. they WILL get themselves into trouble.

narrow viewpoint: particularly focused on individual survival, they don't often examine the larger picture (of corps, society, long-term manipulation, etc.)

EXTRAS

former nomad who loves cars and driving around. they are either the best driver (on the clock) or the scariest (off the clock the thrill seeking mentality kicks in, no thoughts head empty, my insurance will cover this, etc.)

utility netrunner: very skilled but only uses it for doing spooky shit, never direct attacks.

throwing knife user. likes to pounce on their prey and abuse finishers.

also a failed arasaka corpo who loves bullying other corpos but is absolutely embarassed about being a failed corpo. it is not hard to see why they were bad at it.

smoker.

eager to follow a leader but generally suspicious of organized groups that recruit. indiscriminately hazes every ganger in night city, will beat their asses for fun and then sell their guns back to them

more propaganda under the cut (warning for slight spice 🌶)

[team-unveil]

Hello everyone 😊

Welcome to Team Unveil! We're a very dedicated group of hackers and investigators, and I'm you're lovely admin, Blaire ✨️

We don't discriminate! Anyone and everyone can be a target of ours. We strive for neutrality!

If you don't have anything to hide, then we shouldn't be a problem 💖 Wouldn't the world be so much nicer if everyone was open and honest?

If you want any details on someone or have some interesting information, don't be afraid to reach out! Thank you!!!

OOC (PLEASE READ)

Hello!

While I'm an only mod, this blog operates as if they're are many people involved!

If you want to have an OC that's apart of the team, feel free to reach out! You can also DM me at any time for plotting reasons, you want a post taken down, or if you want to make sure I've received your post.

The purpose of this blog is so people can share private messages, photos, recorded conversations, ect. without having to post it themselves OOC, pretend that it was accidental or any other reason as to why this leak in privacy is happening!

Maybe your crappy rotom phone ratted you out, maybe you were hacked, or perhaps someone shared private information you trusted them with, whatever the reason, this blog got a hold of it and is sharing to the world.

Submission Rules/Info:

If I feel like the rules aren't obeyed, I have the right to toss it out.

PLEASE USE THE SUBMISSION BUTTON NOT THE ASK. Asks are for questions, "leaks" need to be sent to me using the submission button.

I do not have the ability to change submissions to be anonymous! This is annoying, I know, but it's not something I have control over. This blog will operate where we are "blind" to the "submitted by" portion.

You can, however, submit things anonymously if you go into an incognito tab! I don't believe you can add images that way, but you are welcome to DM the images to me! I have the ability to edit submissions, so I can add them in! It will ask for your email, and I cannot see this 🙏

Please keep submissions PG-13! This means sexual content cannot be explicit, just suggestive and vague, and violence is fine, but gore will need to be censored. However, regardless of how vague it is, I will reject anything involving incest, pokephilia, pedophilia, and sexual abuse.

*new rule, but I'm not very comfortable posting things involving abelism or ridiculing people for mental health issues.

When submitting a leak, please add instructions! Tell when to post it! What day, what time (give me your timezone or translate to EST). I can delete said instructions, just clearly mark them with an OOC or // .

That being said: do NOT send me something that needs to go up immediately or within a few hours. I work and sleep! Give me time to see and get it ready please 🙏

Do not God Mod. God modding is when you control someone's character without their consent. If a leak has been shared about your character and you did NOT approve it, I will take it down!

You are free to submit leaks about canon characters! Someone having a canon character as a muse does NOT make them off limits. However ! If you are @ ing their blog specifically and they did not consent to it, it will be taken down upon request.

Post your submission as if you are the hacker or someone sneakily giving me intel! You can be as extravagant or minimalist as you want.

It seems that @/blog was lying about their relationship status with @/blog2

[Insert here a romantically involved chat log]

If not a hacker or someone ratting out information, you can post as if you're paparazzi or a stalker. Stalker posts will be properly tagged as such!

You can create fake chats, draw and edit things as you wish! Or you can just use image descriptors and plain text. The formatting is totally up to you. Anything official from Pokémon is free game, but you cannot use someone else's fanart or edits without permission.

And lastly, this should go without saying, but this blog is NOT intended for real drama and call outs. You should not be using this blog to try and get back at someone and hurt them. Everything here should be fictional.

Please @ the involved blogs, this will help knowing who is being talked about.

Use the tags!!! When you make a submission, you have the ability to add your tags. Please do so to add appropriate warnings.

I'm an adult! I run @pokeblr-confessions and @belamew. Those two characters have ZERO relation to Blaire.

[fereldanwench]

Valerie Powell Master Post

જ⁀➴₊⊹ This is a refresh of my previous master post for Valerie (available here).

✧ BASICS ✧ Full Name: Valerie Irene Powell Pronouns: She/her Date of Birth: 12 Oct 2041 Place of Birth: Charter Hill, Night City Height: 5'10" (178 cm) Weight: ~150 lbs Body Type: Athletic, curvy Eye Color: Dark blue-gray Hair Color: Blue (cerulean or sapphire) (brown-black naturally)

✧ PERSONALITY & SKILLS ✧ MBTI: ISFJ Lifepath: Corpo-rat Combat Style: Pistols, long-range rifles, tech attacks/hacking Languages: - English (native) - Japanese (full professional proficiency) - Spanish (elementary proficiency)

✧ RELATIONSHIPS ✧ Father: Sebastian Powell (deceased) Mother: Ava Powell (née Mercan; deceased) [tag] Siblings: None Other Relatives: - Edward Powell (uncle; estranged) - Nicolas Mercan (uncle; estranged) Closest Friends: - Jackie Welles - Viktor Vektor Notable Partners: - Kristen Hughes (ex; committed relationship) - Viktor Vektor (ex; fling) - Goro Takemura (married in 2081)

✧ NOTES ✧ - Although in-game she has the corpo lifepath, Valerie's career history is pretty varied before she joins counter-intel: Biotechnica data analyst, a slew of random service jobs, hostess (with a side hustle helping Jackie con some of her more notorious clients), and Arasaka security (which is how she met Jenkins). - Valerie doesn't dye her hair blue--She did when she first made the change, but she uses a cosmetic nanotech implant to alter the color of the strands at the root. - She had a very non-traditional education: Valerie was in the Night City public school system for elementary school, but she was pulled out when her maternal grandparents insisted on funding extensive private tutoring until she was 18. Learning Japanese was a part of that curriculum. - Her father was also very steadfast about the right to bear arms, and she was just 7 years old when she first learned how to handle firearms. - Valerie doesn't drink alcohol or do drugs. Addiction runs in both sides of her family, and she made the choice to go sober when she was about 27 years old. (Caffeine is the one exception--She needs several strong cups of coffee to get through the day.) - She doesn't have any tattoos, but she does have multiple piercings in both ears and a naval piercing. - A more comprehensive character sheet is available at Pillowfort!

Tags and relevant links updated under the cut:

Last updated: 24 May 24

✧ VALERIE'S TAGS ✧

💙 oc: valerie v powell

💖 fave: valerie v powell

🖼️ art: valerie v powell

🔖 fic: valerie v powell

✨ oc inspo: valerie v powell

💑 ship: goro x valerie

💖 fave: goro x valerie

🖼️ art: goro x valerie

🔖 fic: goro x valerie

🎬 outtakes: goro x valerie

🪄 muse fuel: goro x valerie

✧ ALTERNATE UNIVERSES & TIMELINES ✧

🐺 au: cyber witchers More or less a "retired" AU--This was born out of learning how to mod and putting Goro in the Witcher jacket

🌊 au: corpo naiad Also a retired AU--Just experimenting with some new locations and mods

🛡️ au: corporate loyalty An alternate timeline in which Valerie turns on Jenkins and sell him out to Abernathy, resulting in Valerie becoming head of counter-intel

🏜️ au: the open road An alternate timeline in which Valerie seeks refuge with the Aldecaldos rather than following Jenkins' orders to kill Abernathy

🧭 au: i only play for sport An alternate universe inspired by Tomb Raider in which Valerie is an intrepid treasure seeker and Goro is the bodyguard for a powerful kumichō

☢️ au: no gods no monsters A Fallout crossover--Details pending!

✧ CHARACTER SHEETS & MEMES ✧

Valerie Character Sheet

Valerie and Goro Ship Sheet

Valerie's Style Evolution (2060-2079)

Valerie's Corpo Lookbook

Valerie's Speech Mannerisms

Valerie's Character Influences

Valerie OC Profile

Valerie Aesthetics I

Valerie Aesthetics II

OC Tarot Card

OC Tag: Song Challenge

Unusual Muse Associations

Valerie's Affiliations

Valerie + Goro Relationship Card

Valerie's Name Meanings

Late Summer Aesthetics

Valerie's Rage Language

✧ META & PERSONAL REFLECTIONS ✧

Valerie and validating my sobriety

Valerie if she was a canon character

Valerie as an ISFJ and how she expresses love/sexuality

Valerie and being "Goro's thief"

Valerie and marriage

Valerie and not trusting Johnny

Gushing about Valerie!

Valerie on Evelyn and "straddling worlds"

On sex in the corpo world

Valerie and Jenkins' relationship

Valerie and being sensitive & honest in a cruel world

She's Valerie, not V (also BTS lore about her surname)

No love at first sight here

Musing on Valerie's background in Arasaka security

Summary of counter-intel events and Valerie's career history

Valerie's ability to read people

No one is ever free in Night City

Wanting to play more "pro-corpo" as a corpo

Valerie does think being with a corp is her best choice

Thoughts on my first experience with the Devil ending

Giving Goro and Valerie a happy ending

Early musing on the endgame options and being an engram

Valerie taking in the early morning views

✧ VIDEOS & CLIPS ✧

Valerie leaving a voicemail to Jackie post-heist

Valerie's In-Game Playlist on YouTube

"See a woman here with blue hair?"

[fudgebuggyy]

✥ The Integral of Us ✥

Pairing: Jayce/ Viktor , Male!OC/Jayce/Viktor

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4k - 1/3 Chapters

Tags: No Hextech AU, Bilgewater lore, married Jayce/Viktor, bearded!Jayce, longhaired!Viktor, Original Character POV, dynamic: married couple adopts little shit

"If you want a threesome, that's triple the coin." "I'd consider doubling it if it's just you and him.” “You like to watch?” The man laughs again, and it’s almost as lovely as his accent. He feels it like a hand closing around his throat, feels dizzy from it. He wants to paw at him like a dog, wants to dot the mole above his mouth with the tip of his tongue. “Something like that,” the man says.

✥ ✥ ✥

When two Piltovian toolmakers open up a workshop in Rat Town (of all places) named Coin & Crank (dreadfully), it gets slopped in fish guts and ransacked within a week. A Piltovian’s stubbornness should’ve come with little surprise, and when they rebuilt, the only reason it wasn’t burnt to the ground was thanks to word getting out that the last ransackers fled the Coin & Crank with permanent brain damage.

(Also, look, they're super fucking hot and all the local twinks are having an existential crisis.)

Novelty in Bilgewater warrants as much attention as a barnacle on a ship’s hull—the transit point of every crew cutting through the Guardian’s Sea; runaways, smugglers, merchants and vagabonds, bandits down on their luck. 

Naturally it’s a real fucking pit stain. 

So when two Piltovian toolmakers open a workshop in Rat Town (of all places) named Coin & Crank (dreadfully), it gets slopped in fish guts and ransacked within a week. A Piltovian’s stubbornness should’ve come with little surprise (they didn’t bother changing the name) and when they rebuilt near the outskirts of the Buhru temple, the only reason it wasn’t burnt to the ground was because word got out the last ransackers fled the Coin & Crank with permanent brain damage. 

Violence breeds respect in real fucking pit stains. 

“Nice, ey?” Fat Joe winks, waving his brand new mechanical arm at a swarm of seagulls trying to pick at the fish guts flooding the docks; the forceps in his hand awfully dull in comparison to the fine metalwork of those prosthetic fingers. 

Fat Joe is neither fat nor called Joe, and despite what he proclaims during drunken tales at the taverns, he didn’t lose his left arm to a month-long serpent hunt; he was just born without one. He was born without much of a frontal lobe either.

“Well, shit.” Isak can’t look away from the arm, watches as it tosses the forceps aside, watches as those metal fingers rip out another massive scallop-shaped scale from the chunk of serpent’s flesh flung over the chopping block. Joe drops the scale on a pile beside them.

He does it with the kind of obnoxious flourish that goads all the dockworkers into one collective leer: fuck this guy. 

“Weren’t you the one who called them trinket-tappers?” 

“Still are.”Joe bobbles his head. “But, I’ll be damned, those Tinkers make a good arm.” He spreads the fingers wide, twisting the wrist, that soft mechanical whirr. It’s too clean of a thing in a place where everything is welded together, crooked and hack-jobbed, uncared for, hasty, horrid. Here, in the carving bay where the docks are cobbled together with driftwood and guts, the powdery copper of rusted iron. Out here, where you make do with whatever cargo strays into the bay. 

Isak stares at the intricate detail of that arm. It’s so pretty and so charming and so painfully Piltovian, down to the screws.  

“How much did you pay for it?“

“All of last catch’s coin.”

Isak spits a laugh. “Well, god-fucking-speed. I’ll give it a week.” He’s too preoccupied with using his own forceps to bat away the seagulls eyeing the scale-less serpent’s flesh that he doesn’t catch Joe fast enough. The arm whirrs down, the bite of cold metal around Isak’s throat. 

Joe drags him into the air. Boots skim the blood on the planks below. The arm hums now, hums wildly as Isak bats at it, trying to claw into the gaps in the metal.  

Joe cocks a brow. “Still giving it a week, sweeting?”

Vision splotchy, Isak grins.“Call me that again, and I’ll just ask you to squeeze harder—” 

“Oi! You can kill the kid when we’re done!” A voice like a Triton’s trumpet snaps all their heads up. 

Danni is dwarfed beneath the serpent dangling from iron chains and covered in platforms and pulleys, where workers hack at it for parts, crawling into and out of it like roaches. Its exposed belly, innards steaming. 

Joe tosses Isak onto the docks. Something about Danni makes men uneasy. (She likes to say it’s the age-old magic of a giant bosom.)

Wheezing, Isak aims his foot at Joe’s crotch but the oaf sidesteps him fast enough. Turning towards Danni, Joe flips her off excitedly with his new asset. “You seen this shit yet?”

“Congratulations! You can wipe your ass with both hands now!” She shouts, all Triton-trumpet-y, and she tosses him one of her brilliant smiles. Paired with her magical bosom, it distracts Joe long enough for Isak to aim for his crotch. This time he doesn’t miss. 

✥ ✥ ✥

Fat Joe doesn’t shut up about his new arm. 

Especially once everyone’s flooding the bar counter of the Wailing Lady, blasting their freshly earned coin on the taverns of Rat Town. The catch from that day was a gold rush. Whatever is left of the carcass dangles down in the docks. From the tavern’s terrace, Isak can make out the mangled shape of it. Even from all the way up here, it’s a colossus, swinging back and forth like a hanged god. 

“Nice, ey?” Isak overhears Joe slur for the hundredth time today. He doesn’t have to look to know the guy is wiggling his perfect prosthetics into any face willing to gift him attention. 

The arm has mostly been met with caution, a couple of nasty jokes about Piltover—their gold lapels, their shiny shoes, their oblivious postering—but most shut up once Joe started picking up chairs and tables, hoisting the giggling bar maiden up onto his shoulder. 

He’s a whole one-man show. He should start a circus. 

It’s annoying enough to even force Danni out onto the terrace for a smoke. Rolling her eyes, she hands Isak her cigarette to share. 

“Think he’s gonna try and jerk off with it?” Isak takes a long drag, closing his eyes and angling his head like that’ll give him a better visual. 

Danni groans. “Why must you ruin everything?”

“We might get lucky and he accidentally rips off his ballsack.” 

She snatches the cigarette out of his fingers. “You had some time to think about it?”

“His ballsack? Honestly? He’s not that bad-looking,” Isak looks over his shoulder, “if you close your eyes—”

“No, I meant you covering my shift at the Canary, you little freak.” 

“The Canary. Right.” 

Isak’s gaze sweeps over Bilgewater, opening up before them like a cavity, blackened and sprayed with flecks of light beneath the ancient stone overpass that arches over the bay. And higher, higher, up the stacked shacks and shops and roped bridges lobbed along the cliffs like thatches of moss growing on rock, up, up, crowned with buildings made of old ship prows, their curlicue balconies jutting into the night sky. Up there where the Canary lays tucked between dice houses and theaters, where the laughter is more drunken and delicious than anywhere else.  

“You can take a decent bath up there.” Danni uses that pretty-pretty-please tone of hers, probably the kind she uses to coax patrons into the rooms in the back.

Granted, the idea of a warm soak in place of dunking his head in a greywater tank makes his stomach loop a little. 

Isak sucks in a breath. “Who’s going to take care of Guppy while I’m gone?”

“You can take her with you. The girls would adore her.” Danni hands him the cigarette. “Come on…Please? You’re hot, buttercup.” She jabs her elbow into his side. “It’s easy coin, double the amount you make at the docks.”

“Mh-hmm…To think you’d suck up to me just to fuck a Noxian soldier.”

“Ex-soldier,” she points out. “And yes, so I can fuck a Noxian. Have you seen him? It’s our anniversary.”

This time, Isak rolls his eyes. “You met a week ago.”

“Exactly,” she sighs, stretching her head back. She smiles. “He wants to take me to some fancy dice house. He’s never been. Guy was basically a monk his whole life. A very hot, very horse-cocked monk—”

“Don’t—” Isak sputters a laugh. He shakes his head. “Don’t put those words together like that.”

Danni twists and looks down into the bay.

“Think about it…Good ale. A bath. They’ll proper feed you, promise. Plus, you can even keep your trousers on.” He snorts at that. “And who knows, maybe you’ll make enough to get those Tinkers to build you some sweet little fingers.” She grabs his left hand, presses into the stumps where his pinkie and ring finger used to be. He lets her, and only her. 

By now Danni knows him well enough. They’re the alley cats scrounging up food wherever they can, hopping from odd-job to odd-job, from the carving bay of the slaughter docks, to snatch-and-grabs around the canals below. They’ve been dishwashers, barbacks, danced on tables, woven fishing nets, shuffled card decks. They’ve pedaled moonshine and baggies of brinepowder, vials of daggerroot stuffed under their belts. Spent days on hunting ships, drunk and high, entertaining the crews that brought back serpents the size of mountains. 

Isak’s capacity for shame abandoned him a long time ago. Covering a shift at a brothel might be a step-up. 

“The shit I do for you,” he finally sighs. 

Danni shuffles with her feet the way she does when she knows she’s won. It’s her tell at poker; she’s terrible at poker. 

“You love me.” She pops her cigarette into his mouth and kisses his cheek, that goofy smooch of hers. He bats her off. 

“They better make me daggers for fingers,” he says once he’s had a full drag, flicking the stub of it over the railing.

“Tiny pistols,” Danni says, lifting his hand and aiming it over his shoulder, possibly at Fat Joe. 

“Extendable.”

“Hidden cutlery.”

“Storage space.”

“Music box.”

“Music box,” she hums in agreement. 

And then he laughs, and she laughs, and then they stop, and for a moment they listen to the huffing and clanging of this place as they gaze into the bay. 

This is his favorite moment of any night:

The hallowed grounds of the Buhru temple, misled into the cliffside like the figurehead of an ancient ship, overlook the blood-squalid slaughter docks, the canals running through Rat Town. The first ray of light crushes through the fog bank, a starting pistol for the ships in the bay setting out into the waves for the serpent hunt. He imagines the sailors toss their tithe into the depths—their payment for the gods, for Nagakabourus, the Great Kraken of the Serpent Isles—and the sun makes the water flash a deep, whimsy-blue.

And the priestesses ring the temple bells at first light, that skull-numbing gong humming through the streets, and for a moment, a real, real moment…Bilgewater isn’t so wretched.

✥ ✥ ✥

“Why you do think they came here?” Danni says, her head falling to his shoulder, his head falling to hers. 

“Who?”

“The Tinkers.”

He shrugs. 

“Same reason anyone else does.”

Was it she who told him this place is for the runways? For the leftovers?

It’s for everyone who was someone else before their ship, like an arrowhead to places unbelievable, shot into these waters, and the fog, finally—parted. 

✥ ✥ ✥

It turns out the Canary is heaven. 

Velvet-plush, nestled inside a repurposed merchant’s vessel on the highest cliffs of Bilgewater, filled only with angels and moonshine that’ll leave you blind in the morning. 

By the time Isak plops into his promised bath, he’s happier than a pig in shit. 

The girls, as Danni calls them, are sweet. They’re a mix of young men and women, Yordles, a Vastaya or two, flocking around him like cherubs, they file the dirt from his nails, untangle his curls, smooth his chapped lips with honey and sugar and, Oh, you have such lovely hair, Isak! Oh, Isak, how are your lashes so long? Isak, your eyes, oh, your eyes! 

He feels quite princely, stretched out in the wooden tub, soaking in milky water sprinkled with orange slices and herbs like a victory roast, guzzling moonshine with the vigor of man having returned from battle. (He chews on a few oranges, which the girls find very goofy and very concerning, so they bring him a plate of mash and beans, which, yes, he is allowed to eat in the tub, and yes, silly, there are seconds, and yes, even fourths, but are you sure?)

Guppy happily lays belly-up on the ground being cooed over. The heart on her furred stomach humming with delight. Poros anywhere outside of Freljord are a rarity, and if anyone loves attention more than Isak does, it’s his horned ball of cotton. 

Isak is dressed and oiled and painted and promised that, no, he won’t have to dance if he doesn’t want to, and yes, he may continue drinking as long as he makes sure the patrons are happy at all times. Isak can’t dance to save his life, but he’s got a nasty mouth, which has been the source of much happiness for quite a few men, a comment that earns him a raucous pile of laughter. 

Oh, you are so funny, Isak! one of them says, fixing his eyelashes. If Danni runs away with her Noxian, will you stay? They warble this, very heavenly, very cherub-like. It’s by then that Isak knows Danni must’ve ordered them to butter him up in hopes he’d be more willing to fill-in, so she can go about screwing that mute mountain of hers. 

She met him up here. Maybe Isak will snatch some rugged bounty hunter. Or a captain. Maybe a warlord. 

But Isak’s usual douse of luck runs low and attracts only toothless pirates who get confused about him having a cock.

He doesn’t mind it much though. He’s fed, he’s clean, he’s got a decent buzz going. He drinks and flirts, and flirts and drinks, and he doesn’t remember ever feeling so lovely, perched on laps of sailors who curl their hands over his thighs, and he only threatens one of them with with his pocket knife when a callous hand tries to wiggle into his trousers without payment. 

Maybe he can get used to attention like this, the thick and stiflingly unmistakable kind.

The drinks are getting to his head once the ale starts splashing across the bar counter. Whatever decorum Isak mustered up until that point, eviscerates. He’s wielding drunken stories like he’s at a pub in Rat Town, and the Madame of the place—an elegant Vastaya, with powdery-white ears, called Selis—threatens to toss him out early if he doesn’t settle down. 

“Swear to the gods and Nagakabouros,” he shouts, wiggling his left hand in the air, “those teeth sliced my fingers clean off! They’re this big! That’s what happens if you set sail without paying your tithe.”

“Bollocks.”

“Precisely, mine are huge—”

One of the sailors proclaims Isak would make a spectacular harlot, which is delightful news considering Isak wants stay here forever. 

The girls have gathered around him in a soft circle of oiled skin and silk, and he’s talking, talking all over himself, and they should pay him more for this, they should pay him to live here, to bathe in milk and orange slices and make up new stories about how he lost his fingers every night. 

The Canary is filled with melodies of a lute, soppy laughter rattling at the lanterns dangling from beams, their lovely spectral light swinging, swinging—

He sees him then. 

The man in the corner. 

He sits on a settee behind a film of pink gossamer. His robes are parted to reveal someone slender, courtly, the line of a fine-spined aristocrat. Men in Bilgewater don’t look like this. There’s always a tooth missing, or an eye. From afar, he seems too…intact. 

A newcomer, maybe. Too regal for a bounty hunter and too unassuming for a warlord. A merchant passing through? The son of a noble on the run?

Isak slinks away from the girls and the sailors once they break out into a discordant sea shanty.

The man watches him, eyes shadowed in the low lights. There’s something feline about it. Unsettling. 

Isak feels these things in his stomach curdle, feels suddenly so sloppy with liquors and spirits unknown, bumbling around the settees and tasseled pillows, the sheer fabrics draped low. He tries to saunter, fingers at the fabrics as he passes, scratches at dried candle wax on tables. All his common sense left scattered at the bar. One step, a stumble, his bare feet catching on the edge of a carpet. All knobby-limbed, he finally slumps onto the settee, his elbow knocking into the stranger’s. 

“Hey.”

Someone shove a harpoon into his eye. 

Hey?

“Hello,” the man says. It’s low and liquid, and Isak stares at the very particular way the colorful shards of light pool in the hollow of his cheek, the glorious shape of his nose, his Albatros brow. He’s an old oil painting, bounty from an abandoned ship ghosting into the harbor at night. 

The man asks him for his name, and Isak is drunk. He must be. He gives the man all of it. He might as well have rolled onto his back and shown him his belly. “Isak. Isak Lovenskinn.” It’s a stupid name, stupid when said all at once, but the man hums it in repetition: “Lovenskinn.” His accent strange, rounding over vowels. “Freljordian?” 

“Half.” Isak nods. 

He doesn’t look like an Isak or a Lovenskinn. The thick blood of his Ionian mother embedded in the black of his hair, the shape of his eyes—blue as an ice hole.

He stays quiet and stares at the man in hopes it’ll squeeze out a compliment. His ego has inflated to the size of a planet, and at this point he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it doesn’t keep getting fed. Go on, tell me I’m too sweet for a place like this. Tell me I shouldn’t be working here. Tell me you’ll take me away. Go on, tell me I’d make a spectacular harlot—

“You’re far away from home.”

“And you? How far are you away from home?”

“Is this your first time?”

Isak can’t help but snort. “‘ve sucked enough cock for the both of us, baby.” And there goes him trying to be sweet. 

The man doesn’t rattle easy. He tilts his head to the side, surveying him the way one might the change in weather pattern before a hunt. The graceful lines of his face impenetrable.

Isak loves a challenge. Isak is drunk and brazen. With a breath, he inches close, swings his leg over the man’s knees and bumbles into his lap. He’s lanky beneath him and surprisingly lean. He’s warm. 

Running his hands along the man’s narrow chest, Isak settles. This is familiar territory, this he knows, he’s good at this, he can do this. Leaning in close, Isak regards the pretty mole above the stranger’s mouth. There’s an obvious flutter of surprise on the man’s face. Isak wants to lap it up like kibble. 

“You can touch me, you know. Petting zoo policy,” Isak says, reaching for the man’s hands, but he stops once he realizes how the man pulls back. Stiff. Unsure. He hides it well. “Okay…” Isak softens, he can do this too. “If you want, we can take it slow, I can be real gentle. I make a great virgin.”

And that makes the man laugh. It’s as lovely and lilting as his accent. “My partner would like you.”

“Your what?”

The man’s hand disappears into his robes. For a second, Isak prepares to snatch his pocket knife, but he loosens when the man reveals a satchel, placing it carefully in Isak’s hand. The heaviness of it, the familiar clinking. 

If one thing makes Isak salivate more than a handsome face, it’s a fat satchel of gold. 

“Do you do house visits?” The man tilts his head, a strand of dark hair falling onto his brow. Isak stares at it, hypnotized. 

If he concentrates really, really hard, there’s a tiny voice in the back of his head that sounds an awful lot like Danni: Whatever you do, under no circumstances should you leave with anyone!!!

Isak’s not stupid. On occasion. 

The fact that he’s only lost two fingers has more to do with his minuscule douse of luck than intellect. And really, he likes this, likes this strange beautiful man, the way he looks at him, the way he feels beneath him. Something hot-liquid spills deliriously into his gut. A roll of his hips. The man’s breath hitches. Loud in their little bubble of gossamer, the sweet velvet fuzz of the settee. 

He makes a spectacular harlot. 

“If it’s a threesome, you’ll have to triple that,” Isak says.

“I’d consider doubling it if it’s just you and him.”

“Him, huh?” 

He tries to picture the type of man he lies with. Someone just as regal, just as collected?

“We have an arrangement of sorts.”

Isak smirks. “You like to watch?” 

The man laughs again, and it’s even lovelier than the last time. Isak feels it like a hand closing around his throat, feels dizzy from it. Everything twirling now. All the heat inside of him. He wants to paw at him like a dog, wants to dot the mole above his mouth with the tip of his tongue. 

“Something like that,” the man says. 

“What if I don’t do house visits? What if, what if you tell him to come here.”

Isak thinks he could ask for another shift if he promises not to turn the brothel into a Rat Town tavern again—

“He’s not the type to enter these kinds of…establishments.”

“He shy or something?”

“Principled.”

“I’m guessing you’re the fun one.”

This time, when he laughs there’s something naughty about it, touches his eyes, makes them flare alight like a crucible. “On occasion.”

Isak is so close to him now he reaches for that strand of stray hair, curls it behind an ear. An ear that is shaped so perfectly, carved alabaster. He realizes, horribly, that the man still hasn’t touched him. 

Behind them the sounds of the brothel are a swirl of drunken laughter and sweet-nothings, and the air so syrupy with incense Isak could choke on it, choke on the sweet pluckings of the lute. Here, Isak is a shameless thing. He wants to press his forehead against the man’s, wants to mumble all his filthy needing into that perfect ear, wants to say please. Something about him makes him want to plead until the spittle runs down his chin. He smells of crushed basil, honey. He smells like somewhere far away. He smells other. 

Something about it unsettles him so deeply it scrapes at the bottom of his stomach. A feeling he can’t put a finger on, but wants to, craves to, desperately, with all of himself. This feeling, this feeling. 

He’s so drunk, he’s so drunk, he’s so drunk. 

Isak doesn’t want him to leave, and he digs through his head for anything to say. “So…you wouldn’t describe yourself as a principled man?”

“My principles are a little more malleable.”

“Well,” Isak puffs his cheeks and exhales, “I’ve got none. So, how about I offer you a little show upstairs, free of charge. You can take me for a trial run, give me pointers, and then, and—” Isak clears his throat. “Then tell him to come. The rooms are nice upstairs. You’ll both like it, I promise. I—” He feels the man shift as if to stand. He surveys Isak in that disquieting way again, the heat of his attention searing from one side of his face to the other, then lower, until finally, the man touches him. Curls slender hands around Isak’s and closes them over the satchel of coins.

His fingers are so cold Isak wants to drag them to his mouth, thaw them with breath and tongue…

“Thank you, but I must decline that offer.” The man shifts a final time, and Isak, like a puppet made only of elbows and knees, falls to the settee as the man rises. “Keep it.” He gestures at the satchel. “Perhaps you will make up your mind.” 

“You’re leaving?”

Don’t leave.

He stands before him now, slouched to one side. Isak hadn’t noticed what the man kept hidden beneath his robes: a cane made of thick shining metal. 

Pretty.

Charming. 

“I hope to see you again, Isak Lovenskinn.”

Don’t leave.

“I don’t even know your name.”

Please. 

This feeling, this feeling—

“It’s Viktor.”

✥ ✥ ✥

With a sleeping Guppy tucked tight against his chest, Isak stumbles back down into the bay. Swaying along with all the drunkards leaving taverns and inlets, wading through the muck of last night slopped across the streets.  

When the first shard of sun cleaves through the fog, its light shining upon the carved stone of the Buhru temple, blue dome a knuckle digging into the sky, the gong chimes, and Isak imagines the acolytes, those chosen devoted few, spilling into its tombs for morning prayer. 

There, he puts a finger on the feeling, and he listens to it sing. 

[astrogation]

tags: other media & other stuff

other media:

.hack//SIGN

.hack//Quantum

Black Jack

Cardcaptor Sakura

Code Lyoko

Durarara!!

The Flowers of Evil

Fullmetal Alchemist

The Girl Who Leapt Through Time

Gregory Horror Show

Hymn of Memory

Love Live!

Mahou Shounen FIGHT!

Mob Psycho 100

My Neighbor Totoro

NANA

Neon Genesis Evangelion

No. 6

Our Dreams at Dusk

Paranatural

Parasyte

Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea

Princess Jellyfish

Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Return to Oz

Rozen Maiden

The Secret World of Arrietty

Serial Experiments Lain

Sleeping Beauty

Televoid!

Tokyo Ghoul

Tokyo Godfathers

Touhou Project: Eastern and Little Nature Deity

Touhou Project: Forbidden Scrollery

Touhou Project: Wild and Horned Hermit

Vocaloid

Yu-Gi-Oh!: Duel Monsters

other stuff:

about me

anthro (generalized furry/furry-adjacent stuff)

ask

audio

birds!!

cats!!

crocodillians!!

dogs!!

favorite

flowers!!

friends’ ocs

frogs!!

gif

hyenas!!

lizards!!

miscellaneous (original art, stuff i don’t know, previously untagged stuff)

moths!!

my ocs

negative

personal

positive

rain!!

rats!!

snakes!!

stars!!

twinnie’s artsu (art by my twinnie, stilleri!!)

video

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Nine

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho, @claudiahxrdy​ (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Bruce’s fingers ran through Demetria’s black hair, tucking a strand behind her ear before his fingers slid softly down her jawline.

She was fast asleep, her head resting on his chest, their legs intertwined. Her breathing was gentle, heart beating slowly against his. Her jacket was draped over her like a blanket. His arms wrapped around her protectively.

After having their way with each other, they’d put their clothes back on with the intention of driving back home, but exhaustion overwhelmed them and instead they opted for sleeping on the floor. 

Bruce felt relief wash over him, knowing that he didn’t have to hide from her nor did he lose her in the process. His eyes fell to her stitch on her forearm. The scar would forever be a reminder of his carelessness and he would never forgive himself for as long as lived.

Her eyes fluttered open, a tired smile forming on her lips.

“Morning,” she mumbled, nestling her head closer to him as she basked in the warmth of his body.

He kissed the top of her head, pulling her close to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but nothing some asprin can’t fix.”

“I have a bottle in the top right drawer. I also have aftercare stuff for stitches in my desk if you need it. I’ve had to stitch myself multiple times.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “You do it yourself?”

“Alfred helps.”

She hummed. “I’m getting you a blanket to keep in here. Maybe a pillow too.”

He chuckled, his lips hovering over the top of her head. “I don’t need it.”

She lifted her head. “But I might.” 

“Who says I’ll allow you back in here?” he teased. 

“I can make myself very useful to you.” 

“You’re always useful to me.”

She rolled her eyes, lying her head back down. “You know what I mean.”

His fingers circled her back as he rested his chin on top of her head. “Dem?” 

“Yea?” 

“Are all your panic attacks like that?”

She glanced up. “Like what?” 

“Like how it was last night?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never had one that intense before. They vary in severity, but usually it’s manageable.” 

He closed his eyes, cursing himself even more. He knew he should’ve been there. “What can I do for you when you have them?”

 “Just ask me what I need,” she shrugged. “I’ll usually tell you if I want you there or if I want space.”

“You promise?” 

“I do.” Her fingers reached toward his hair, running through it. “I appreciate you asking.” 

She pecked his lips before stretching her arms carefully, aware of the stitch on her arm. “How the hell did we fall asleep on the floor?”

“I think we were both just were too tired to care.”

She got up, helping Bruce up off the ground. She threw on her jacket. “By the way, how the hell did you and Rachel survive that fall?”

He chuckled. “I’ve jumped off higher buildings. That was nothing.”

She cocked her head. “You live in a penthouse.” 

“When you’ve been at it for as long as I have, you get used to it.” 

“So you’re not going to tell me?” 

He smirked, resting his hands on her forearms. “I don’t want you jumping off buildings.” 

She scoffed playfully. “Fine, keep your secrets.” Then it dawned on her. “Speaking of which, does she know?”

“Rachel? Yeah, she does.” 

“Anyone else?” 

“Lucius Fox. He helps come up with the tools and the Batsuit. All this you see in here is his handy work. As for Rachel, I rescued her a long time ago.”

Demetria nodded understandingly. Bruce put his hands on her hips, pulling her close to him. “I should’ve told you sooner. I just wanted to protect you.”

She gently grabbed his hands. “Be honest with me here, were you really ever going to tell me?”

“I was hoping I could step down before we got married so that I could tell you when it was over so you wouldn’t worry. I realize now how foolish that was.” He paused. “I threw the fundraiser for Harvey because I believe he’s what Gotham needs and deserves. He’s better than Batman. I want him to continue so that the Batman can leave and I can begin my life with you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to be too mad at him, realizing his intentions were nothing but good. She also cursed herself for ever doubting him. 

“Well first, know that the right time to tell me anything is when it happens,” she told him. “Second, don’t get me wrong, what Harvey’s done for the city is great but he’s not you. You should be proud for what you’ve done for the city.” She pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek. “I want you to know that if you don’t want to give up Batman, that’s ok. If you feel like you’re done, then that’s ok too. What I don’t want is to be the reason behind your decision.” 

He shook his head. “You’re always my reason. Demetria, you’re everything to me.” 

Her lips curved into a small grateful smile.  “Just know I’m here and I’m proud of you and that you’ll always be my hero.” 

‘I’m proud of you.’ Four words filled him with a sense of security he hadn’t felt in a long time. No, he never searched for glory or praise when it came to his Batman or personal duties, but Demetria’s support meant the absolute world to him. He knew his luck and he’d be damned if he pushed it any further.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his thumb wiping her bottom lip.

Her hands moved to wrap around the back of his neck and his hands wrapped her cheeks. “I love you too.”

He leaned forward, his breath hitting her lips for a moment before his lips brushed up against hers.

His kiss was gentle, but with meaning, just like his declaration. If both had their choice in life, they would choose to stay in the moment forever. To stay trapped in the most meaningful kiss that made the world and its problems around them disappear. 

Demetria slowly pulled back and rest her head on his chest as his hand rubbed her back. Her eyes shifted over to the computer screens, curiosity filling her eyes. 

“So what exactly is this for?” she questioned, motioning her head toward it. 

Bruce looked at the computers. “Helps with tracking.” 

“Tracking what?” 

“Anything and everything.”

She turned her head to him. “Including me?”

His hands were shoved in his pockets, slight embarrassment painting his expression. “Two times. Tops.”

She leaned forward, a playful smirk on her lips. “You’ve spied on me twice? When?”

“First time was the anthrax scare.”

“And the other?

“Huge drug deal happening in the basement of your apartment building. 

She hummed, the memory coming back to her. “Ah, yeah. That was a fun time.” Her eyes then widened. “Wait a minute. You called me that night...and you...you asked-.” 

“For you to spend the night,” he finished. He nodded. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.” 

“So that's why you made me stay at your place for the entire weekend?” 

He cracked a smile. “Made you? I seem to recall you not fighting me on it.” 

“I just thought you were needy.” She looked back over at the computers. “Would you teach me how to use the system?” 

“Why?”

“I want to help you.”

His smile faded. “Demetria, I told you I don’t-.”

“I’m already involved, Bruce. Besides, I’ll stay in here and this is a safe enough space for me. Plus, I worked in journalism. I know how to dig deep and find out things.” 

“I thought your job was to get people on shows?” 

“We had to do background checks and in-depth research.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Look, I can’t jump off buildings or fight, but I can help with hacking and with research and that’s just as useful to your work as the physical stuff is. Think of it as me 

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to fight her. She’d had a point - she was already involved. She was also helpful with the tip from last night. Maybe she could be an asset.

“How do you know to hack?” he questioned, cracking a tiny smile.

“I know people,” she shrugged casually.

He shook his head. “We’ll try it on a trial basis.”

She perked up, her smile widening. “I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“I see you now know our little secret, Miss Gallagher.”

Demetria and Bruce looked over to see Alfred carrying two to-go coffee cups. He made his way to the couple, offering the first cup to Demetria. 

“You’re a lifesaver, again,” Demetria thanked him as she took the coffee. She took a sip, the taste of caffeine, half-and-half, and sugar welcoming her. 

She watched as Alfred set down the other cup on the desk as Bruce turned the computer systems. Suddenly, the pitch black screens turned to looped videos of The Joker. From security cam footage to his video from yesterday, his presence graced the screen and caused shivers to go down Demetria’s spine. 

The memory of the way The Joker’s eyes pierced in to her in the moments before he slashed her flashed in her head. She exhaled, shaking it off so Bruce wouldn’t see. 

Just when a distraction was needed, her phone rang. She dug into her jacket pocket to find it was her mom calling.

“Oh shit,” she mumbled.  

She walked to the other side of the Bat Cave and pressed the green button. “Hey Mom.”

“Thank god you’re alright! I had Henry calling me at midnight in hysterics, saying you were attacked and hospitalized - I could barely sleep last night!”

“I know I should’ve called-.”

“Thank god for Alfred! Alfred called me from the hospital to keep me and Henry updated. He even called this morning to say you were sleeping in and that he and Bruce had you taken care of.”

Demetria made a mental note to thank him for keeping her mother at bay.

“And Bruce! My god, the poor thing!” her mother went on. “I mean, he got lucky he was only locked in the closet, but it could’ve been so much worse. Thank god the rat guy came in when he did.”

“His name is Batman, Mom.”

“ I called Harvey to check on him and he said Rachel was attacked too?”

“Yeah, The Joker threw her out the window-.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Mom, she’s fine. Batman saved her.”

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. This was the absolute last thing she needed.

“That’s it! I’m coming in tonight.”

Demetria’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not! You are not coming to Gotham!”

“Demetria, do not fight me on this!”

“Mom, I need you to stay where you are. Now is not the time to come here.”

“I need you to be safe.”

“I am safe. They’re increasing security at Bruce’s place as we speak.”

“What about Harvey?”

“He’s untouchable. He’s going to be fine.”

Her mother sighed in defeat. “Alright, but I want a phone call everyday. You hear me?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And if this continues, I want you, Bruce, and Alfred on your way here or I’m coming in.”

“Fair enough. I promise everything’s gonna be ok. Just do me a favor and keep Henry calm and updated. I’ll call him later.”

“I will. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Demetria hung up, shoving the phone back into her pocket. She made her way back to Bruce and Alfred who were staring at the monitors. 

“Targeting me won’t get their money back,” Bruce said, his eyes glued to The Joker’s face on screen. “I knew the mob wouldn’t go down without a fight, but this feels different. They’ve crossed a line.” 

“You crossed a line first, sir,” Alfred pointed out. “You squeezed them, you hammered them to the point of desperation and in their desperation, they turned to a man they didn’t fully understand.” 

Bruce turned away from the monitors. “Well, criminals aren’t complicated, Alfred. We just need to figure out what he’s after.”

The case that held his Batsuit rose from the ground as Bruce stared at it. 

“With respect Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man you don't fully understand either,” Alfred suggested. He made his way toward Bruce, Demetria watching him. “A long time ago, I was in Burma, my friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of the tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So we went looking for the stones. But in six months, we never met anyone who traded with him.One day I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away. “So why steal them?” Bruce asked with a slight shrug. 

“Because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

As Alfred walked away, Bruce and Demetria looked up at the screen at the Joker’s face. 

============================================

Back at the penthouse, Demetria sat in the living room watching GCN’s coverage of the deaths of Police Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb and Judge Janet Surillo. Both were murdered - one poisoned, the other blown up in her own car. Both deaths were believed to have been conducted by The Joker and by the city’s mobs. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if what had happened to her last night was premeditated. One of the henchmen singled her out to The Joker, referring to her simply as “her.” Perhaps she was on the list for round one of victims.

It dawned on her that by confirming her friendship with Harvey in her editorial, she set herself up to be a target. 

She shut off the TV and began pacing the room. What if the orphanage was next or GCN? What if they were going to blow up her old apartment building with everyone in it? What if they were going to try again?

She cursed herself for writing that damn thing. If only she had just let it go, she wouldn’t have gotten herself involved.

She ran her hand through her hair, when she turned her head over to see her laptop. 

That’s when she thanked God she was smart enough to befriend some of the IT people and researchers at GCN. 

She grabbed her cell phone and went through her contacts, before finding the name she needed. She dialed the number. 

“Harvey, are you at the office?” 

“Yeah, is everything ok? Are you alright?” 

“Is Grace at the office?” 

“Of course.” 

“I need you to let go on an errand for me.” 

*********************************************************************************

That night in the Batcave, as Bruce suited up in his Batman outfit, Demetria sat at the desk setting up her new laptop. 

“And what exactly did you tell Harvey you needed a new laptop for?” 

“I spilled water on mine,” she answered, her eyes not leaving the computer. She clicked a key. “There we go! Now if you need me to hack into a place, I’m ready to go. I’m also logged into the scanner and can hear everything, but that’s not as fun.” 

“How do you know which security cameras the buildings use?” 

“Most places have the same system,” Demetria explained. “At least that’s what I was taught.”

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets,” Bruce noted. 

She furrowed her eyebrows. “There’s a difference between my limited knowledge of hacking and you being Batman.” 

He kissed the top of her head. “Are you going to be ok in here?” 

“I have a blanket and pillow and I’m wearing my favorite sweatpants so I would say so.” She eyed his computers. “I’m still working on figuring out those systems but I should be ok.”

His hand touched her cheek. “It won’t always be like this. Soon, you’ll have me all to yourself in bed all night.”

“And I cannot wait, but for now, focus on getting home safe and without a scratch.”

“For you, absolutely.”

He put on his cowl when Demetria said,” “Scanner is already reporting a shooting at West Point apartment on 78th. Gotham PD is on their way. Checking for security footage now to see if it’s the Joker.” She looked over her shoulder. “Better move along.” 

[sorry-but-we-have-moved]

🌟✨𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓰 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽✨🌟

Hi and welcome! I’m Lillian, and this is my main blog. I used to run @j00nkr4t before it was flagged for sensitive media (i protested the NSFW ban). Since my older blog represents a time when i was much more bigoted, and i’ve grown as a person, i opted for a fresh start. With that out of the way...

🛑 D O  N O T  I N T E R A C T with me if you are: 🛑

Under 18

MAP/Pear/pedophile

MAGA/Trump supporter

Anti-BLM

LGBTQIA+ exclusionist

Aphobic

Terf/Truscum/Transmed/Transphobic

Pro-life

Fatphobic

Pro-Blue Lives Matter

Panphobic

Proana/thinspo/meanspo

LGB/Trans-exclusionist/THAT kind of radfem

Enbyphobic/Non binary exclusionist

Pro Autism Speaks

Ableist

Anti MOGAI

Some stuff about me (I’ll try and update this as regularly as possible. Bigger sections separate blog info from personal info):

⚪ Anon? ⚪

I never go on anon to be honest. I’m gonna say what i say and show that it’s me saying it. However, i allow anon asks, so if you’re a little shy or whatever go ahead!

🎂 Birthday 🎂

March 11, 1996.

🐱 Cats or dogs? 🐶

😻 Cats! I love dogs too (Huskies especially!), but i’m a certified crazy cat lady. Currently caring for a calico, her name is Fornia. Like California. (’cause we live here)

🟪 Discord/Twitch 🟢

🄰🄽-🄸🄶🄼🄰 #2173

In addition i run a couple discord servers, Memescene and ArticleArchive.

ArticleArchive: https://discord.gg/z6jtvhKQRA - For educational purposes. We archive images and articles from Wikipedia, Wikimedia, and other sources to compile free information for people in studies. - Subjects like LGBT+, biology, topography, world cuisine and more are discussed and archived! 13+ MemeScene: https://discord.gg/nY4EpSe - Purely for sharing, creating and consuming meme media. Was started on April Fool’s day 2019 and has gained a small following! 13+ MyMOGAI: https://discord.gg/Y54C3Pae25 - I’ve recently started a new blog, @my-mogai​, which aims to represent little-known or little-supported branches of the LGBTQIA+ community, while also giving fandoms a boost of inclusiveness. 18+

https://www.twitch.tv/zourcherri

🎬 Favorite Film Genres? 🎬

Horror, Animation, Sci-Fi, Paranormal and some Romance and Comedy. Oh, and be sure to recommend me any good Musicals you find as well!

👾 Favorite Games? 👾

Terraria Final Fantasy 12 Borderlands 2/PreSequel Team Fortress 2 Nier: Automata Kingdom Hearts 1 SimCity

🐾 Furry? 🐾

🐾 Furry, 100%! (And it doesn’t mean i want to do anything inherently s*xual or gross. It just means i really like anthro character designs!) I have alot of furry OCs as well, which i’ll eventually get around to introducing.

🎮 Game Fandoms? 🎮

Borderlands, Animal Crossing, Kingdom Hearts, Nier, Final Fantasy, Gex, Monster Hunter, Terraria, Halo, Crash Bandicoot, Driver, Telltale, Team Fortress 2, Portal, Rhythm Heaven, Ace Attorney, Gosh there’s alot of ‘em to name here. I also love to discuss game lore, so feel free to send asks or DMs related to that stuff!

Hobbies

🎨 Art - Some traditional, but mostly digital and 3D. - I now have two side blogs i use, specially made for posting artwork and sharing other’s art. (l3m0n-l4dy, strawberry-scented-psx-logo) 🍴 Cooking - Started small, but now i have over 50+ original recipes. I’ll share one every now and then. - I’ll also share cooking tips and hacks. 🔊 Micspam - Be careful if you use Discord servers like Fortnite, Rainbow Six Siege, Valorant, PUBG/PUBG Mobile or Black Ops; i frequent these. I’ll post compilations of my micspam escapades from time to time. - I’ve also recently begun doing audio mashups and edits. 📷 Photography - I take out a digital camera sometimes to snap a pic of something outside i find neat, film some clouds, or take photos of animals. 📄 Writing - Another hobby i’m insecure about. I have a ton of drafts i add onto and add onto, but hardly ever share with anyone. Hopefully soon, i will. - I recently started an AO3 account, so this is picking up some steam at least.

📝 Nicknames? 📝

I’ve decided to start going by Cherri/Anigma.

But you can also call me Crystal, Krystal, or cry/krystie.

💞 My Besties 💞

Let me know if you want added to/removed from this list!

@kamkairo @handsome-jackoff @silverdashipper @angiethewitch @rust-4-life @gofficangel @of-faunsandyellowflowers @moniiirose @redback-phoenix-the-raptor @ginger-the-espeon​ @handsome-jackoff​ @michellespenscratchz​ @trans-bloblobber​

💌 My Favorite Blogs! 💌

Let me know if you want added to/removed from this list!

@snowysaur @dp2282 @fairy-space @shitposts-from-the-borderlands​ @politijohn @p4radox99 @cort3d​ @handsomepeacock​ @mens-rights-activia​ @sleepypotatostudio​ @captainshivers​ @holographicai​ @bastardfrog27​ @97tysons-trans-rat-emporium​ @fairy-space​ @mspareader​ @yinx1​ @thecutestdinosaur​

💕 Partner 💕

@p0rtalmadness is everything to me. I feel what a puppy feels when their human comes home to them with you. Love you, want you, need you. All the way.

We’re an open relationship, but we normally don’t bring it up until both sides are comfortable!

🕚 Queue 🕚

I didn’t use the queue that much until recently. It works, but i have to fight the queue menu sometimes to get it to work properly lol. Expect some posts and reblogs to be automatically posted from 3 - 7 AM, or 1 - 9 PM. There may be a few odd-hour posts here and there.

Sexuality

Pan all the way!

Side Blogs:

@strawberry-scented-psx-logo​ (Stims) @lime-psx-logo​ (Games) @l3m0n-l4dy​ (Fandoms)

...In closing...

Content posted is highly inconsistent, and a majority is just reblogs. In order to navigate my original works, use my URLs as tags.

Right now, i don’t have submissions enabled (on strawberry i do, just not this blog). I just don’t see what COULD be submitted as content. But, if i figure out something in the future, then you’ll see the option appear on my blog.

[itsdetachable]

What If I Impromptu a Maze Runner Fanfic Written Only In A Tumblr Post Chain

Follow along if you like but mind the tags:

Title: Revenant Rating: Mature (16+ pls) Tags/Warnings: Angst, Feral Behavior, Violence, Gore, Blood, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Gore, Many OCs, Canon Divergent AU, Flare Mutation, Did I Mention Gore?, Personal Headcanons + worldbuilding

Tags + Warnings may be updated as new updates are posted.

I don’t know how long I will keep this up but if ppl like it at all I guess for a while maybe? It’s experimental in a couple ways: one, the writing style. Two, the method of writing (posts+reblog). Let’s see what happens! :D

(p.s.who else is excited as all get out for Crank Palace? WHO ELSE?)

story : start

------------

“Lookit, what’s this?”

Something wavered in his sights. Wavered. Sight. Lights, shadows, a memory of color. His head was buzz-buzz-buzzing and there were hands on either side of it, forcing it forward, forcing it down. A gurgle rose in his throat. He couldn’t remember when he took a breath in but it was pushing up out of his constricted, twisted windpipe and dribbling out of his lips with a taste...taste...

With a taste.

“What is it Emerson?”

“Tattoo, looks like. Skin’s still reforming so it’s a bit ‘ard to see. P-r-o-p....lessee...and an A-5....?”

“Well.”

Echo, around him, tap-tap-tap that grew closer and closer. The hands on his head tilted it again, a sharper angle this time, and the pain of it made a reaction fire across his body. His limbs jerked, useless, his spine spasmed, and the gurgling in his throat came out as a wet growl and the taste the taste...

“A maze rat. Interesting. I thought they only took Immunes.”

The voices, the words, the meanings, flitting across his awareness as the lights-shadows-colors pulsed in his sight and he could almost grasp at- his head was buzzing - he could almost grasp it-

“Put him in a single cell for now. Let’s see how he behaves.”

Jerked, shoved, pain flaring across his being as he fell - head hitting - hands on his useless arms dragging him - he growled in defiance but the wet in his throat only bubbled and bubbled and choked and the hoarse laughter above faded in and out with the lights and the sights and the-

the

(continued in the read more, tho that is where the gorey parts begin...)

the cell.

The floor was cold and hard. He could feel the rough of it in the holes of his shirt on his back. The ceiling the...ceiling...above him was dark. Dark. He blinked, a long slow blink and when his eyes opened again the world looked new. And old. The ceiling...above him...was dark.

Something was murmuring but outside of his head this time. Arms twitched, legs twitched, he could feel a jolt of recognition pass from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes, like his body was shaking hands with itself. Like. His body parts were shaking hands. Like they were shaking hands because...

His stomach was heavy. He could feel the weight of it crushing through him into the rough ground floor below. Murmur. Buzz. Murmur. Buzz. His head - his head could move. He shifted it and there was only the barest trace of pain now, just a bit at the very back of it where skin felt fresh and raw. To his right - a thin mattress and a blanket and a pillow and a wall. Above - the ceiling. To his left - bars, thick bars, metal bars, a floor of tile, another wall, a flickering dim light sconce.

“boy...”

Murmur.

No, word.

“You there, boy?”

He tried to move his limbs - arms jerked, legs jerked. But. But they worked. They twisted him around on the ground, onto his knees and hands - good - but the heaviness in his stomach sloshed around madly. Mad. He breathed, wet and deep as if he hadn’t been breathing before right then, as if he’d forgotten how and just remembered, and the mad in his stomach roiled and boiled and the gurgle was back, in his throat and filling his chest and coming up his windpipe -

- salty and metallic and heavy. Was it buzzing in his head or outside it? His body convulsed but his throat locked, something thick and wet lodged inside of it. He shook, hacking, a desperate sound choking up and up and pushing that wet thing out onto the floor with a heavy squelch.

A sudden sound rose around him, like voices like many voices, and a banging reverberating round and round, loud enough to overcome the buzzing in the awareness of his mind.

“That’s it, boy, that’s a good one. Get them out.”

He wanted to look at who was speaking but his eyes had focused on the thing he’d hacked up, on the shiny darkness bleeding to red onto the floor of it. His mouth was wet and something dripped out his nose.

“Wha-”

He almost spoke. Almost.

The second wet thing slithered up his throat before he could. Gurgle, foam on his lips and out his nose, and the thick of it filling his mouth with acrid, metallic taste - the taste - that disgusted and somehow excited him at the same time. Buzzing in his head, buzzing along his limbs like there was a fight, like he was fighting, a growl threatening in his lungs but the thick wet thing was blocking the growl and blocking his windpipe and he had to get it out out out -

Fingers in his mouth to grab at the slipperiness of it, nails digging into the wriggling metallic gelatin of it, growl finally freeing as he dragged the thing out - and out - and out - all the lengths of it all the many lengths and breadths of it to slop against the floor like some indescribable deep sea squid of branching tentacles and leaking juices.

Roars, hoots, banging - his ears were aching with it all, the buzzing of his head almost gone but replaced by the pounding of the world around him. His lips were wet and sticky and his hands were red and shaking and when he looked up it was into the eyes of a middle-aged woman with matted hair and a scar-marred smile behind the bars in front of him. She crouched slowly, almost carefully, hands coming to rest on the bars, face pressed hard against them as if she was trying to move through them.

“Headshot, eh?” She cocked her head slowly, nodding. He looked into her eyes and couldn’t look away. “Always a mess, those. But the worst is over.”

Her eyes held his, something in them captivating his senses, dulling the noise around him until all that was left was him and her and him and her whisper across the space between them-

“What’s your name, boy?”

Name - a snap somewhere behind his forehead and between his temples - a name - something where a dog and a girl called for him to follow - a name - green grass and green trees and green walls -

“Call...call me Newt.”

[emcon-imagines]

about me!

name: emcon pronouns: she/her age: 23 star sign: leo occupation: hacker/pentester/cybersec/PAM location: united states

fun facts:

i am a recent college grad (class of 2020 babey!)

some of my hobbies include writing, cryptography/hacking, playing the flute, web design, martial arts, learning languages, baking

my about me tag is here, my original poetry is here

read about and buy my published thesis here?

i speak English, Spanish, some French, read Portuguese, and am currently learning Mandarin and Russian (also working to improve my French!)

please send me music recs always

OC blog is @emcon-ocs ocs​ and my main blog is @the-radio-star​

I’m really passionate about online privacy, digital rights, anti-surveillance (+anti- surveillance capitalism), cybersecurity, and anonymity. Feel free to talk to me about these things!

I also play the piano and in a past life I was a big band jazz piano player but do not ask me about that it never happened

I have a pet betta fish named Manny and a miniature schnauzer pup named Lil Dolly Parton

I’m a former radio host for an independent station in the Northeast US, where I used to run a weekly prime-time paranormal radio show. I moved because of COVID and haven’t broadcasted recently, though I hope to return to the airwaves eventually

Bouncing off of that, I grew up having a ton of paranormal experiences so I’m a big believer in ghosts/UFOS/secret government projects lmao

Other niche interests of mine are space, rats, bats, sheep, geography, cyberpunk, sci-fi, horror movies (but NOT body horror or medical horror), meditation, radio, betta fish and shrimp, and poetry

and now that you’ve read all this:

[artist-kreating-stuff]

“We’re either going to save the galaxy… or we’re going to die trying.

Either way, we’re gonna have fun.”

- Team Death Wish

My brain: “Stop drawing ideas for your fanfic and actually write something for it.”

Me: “B-but… OC plot ideas?”

This takes place in my Beyblade Burst/Ninjago Elemental Masters AU. The basic idea: Clone Medic Kix is woken up from his cryo chamber by a couple of kids who heard there was a war going on in a galaxy far far away and wanted to help. Now he’s back to doing what he used to do: trying to keep wannabe heroes with a death wish alive.

They try to have fun.

(This is my first time drawing a clone trooper - how did I do?)

Bonus (I forgot Eli’s freckles):

[toads-treasures]

OC Companion Meme

I was tagged by the fantastic @metalforhands​!! Thank you so much for the tag and I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to it!! This was harder than I expected lol. So guess who had to come up with a very elaborate AU because I am just that Extra?

Whoever wants to do this have a whack at it and tag me!!! It was actually super fun to think about! I don’t know how well I did with the companion perk but, uh, lol I tried. Let me remind you guys, I’ve only played Fallout 4 once and for like 20 minutes. I might have gotten a lot of stuff wrong here but it was fun, okay?

Nora Lee

Where you find her:

To have Nora as a companion you must first complete the Quest: Strictly Business which will be triggered after you talk to her for the first time. She can be found at Bunker Hill, standing next to a small caravan and arguing with a named Gunner, Carson Thorne. The Sole Survivor can overhear the last bit of dialogue from Thorne.

Thorne: “You gotta understand sweetheart, the ‘Wealth is more dangerous than you’d think. It’s just good business.”

Nora:“Take your business and shove it up your ass Thorne, I don’t need you and your overpriced ego telling me how to run my family’s operations. Now get the hell out of here.”

Thorne: “Your funeral, sweetheart.”

Thorne will walk past the sole survivor and Sole can then pass an easy charisma check and ask Nora what the conversation was about. She’ll tell the sole survivor that Carson Thorne has been trying to get her to hire the gunners as protection for her caravan ever since she and her party (herself, and two unnamed merchants) arrived in the Commonwealth two months ago, attempting to gather more books for her mother’s library as well as expand the trade of her grandfather’s tobacco trade into Commonwealth. 

Her caravan had been doing well except for these last few weeks they’ve been attacked by the same raider gang every time they attempt to leave Bunker Hill. She’s convinced that the raiders have been hired by Thorne in order to force Nora’s hand and hire the gunners.

The sole survivor can then offer to help Nora or pass a difficult charisma check and convince Nora to hire them in order to deal with Thorne. (The Sole Survivor can pass further speech checks to get the initial price of 150 up to 200 caps)

The sole survivor can then find Thorne and either A) convince/threaten him to leave Nora and her caravan alone or B) kill him. With either of this options the sole survivor will go back to Nora and explain what happened. She’ll be grudgingly impressed either way (more so Sole has successfully convinced him to leave her alone without killing him) and tell the Sole Survivor, “But there's still the raider gang to deal with. How good of a shot are you?”

The sole survivor and Nora eliminate the raider gang together, leaving her caravan behind and going out to find the raiders themselves.  Sole can either dismiss her or ask if she’d like to go with them. She’ll respond:“After what you did with Thorne? I’d follow you anywhere, [flustered] I mean...uh, yes, why not?”

After that she is no longer available as a merchant to the player, but her caravan will continue her trade routes and will sell to the Sole Survivor at a discount.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Standard 9 mm pistol, sighted hunting rifle, and a unique knife that looks like this: It’s a bookbinding knife.

Nora always has unburned books in her inventory and in one of her affinity talks mentions that her mother taught her how to restore old books and gave her the knife.

Idle Dialogue:

“You’d be surprised at one of they key ingredients for a good book binding glue. It comes from Deathclaws. So, of course, I don’t get it very often.”

“Biggest bummer of the apocalypse is no one has time to just kick back and read now.”

(If raining) “No no no! The spines still haven’t set in my last copy of Dickens!”

At Boston Public Library: “(Softly) Can you imagine what this place must have been like back then? It must have been, oh...sorry…”

At College Square: “Oh what I wouldn’t give to have seen this place in its hay day. More intellectual and less….feral.”

[humming, whistling or singing to player’s radio]

“I’m guessing librarians back in the day didn’t have to carry around so much firepower, huh?”

I THINK WE SHOULD TRAVEL TOGETHER:

“You do seem to cover a lot of ground, I wouldn’t mind tagging along.”

“Okay, but no complaining if I search for more inventory along the way, alright?”

Romanced- “Of course, love. Lead the way.”

Use Melee:

“If this dulls my knife you’re finding me a new one. And they’re not easy to track down.”

“Ugh, if you’re certain.”

“Down and dirty, huh?”

“Why are you like this?”

Use range:

“That’s more like it.”

“Trust me, they’ll never see it coming.”

“Much more my speed if I’m honest.”

Open Inventory:

“Don’t touch my Vonnegut, it’s mint condition. Or as close as I can get it anyway.”

“What’s mine is yours I suppose.”

“If you wanna carry some of these, be my guest, my back is killing me.”

If over encumbered:

“And I thought I was a pack rat.”

“I keep telling you we should get a brahmin.”

“Even I can tell that’s too much,”

Romanced- “Darling I’d hate to have to leave you behind because you’re too slow, (laughs) I’m just teasing, let me take some of that, won’t you?”

Stay Close:

(If low affinity) “I’m not much of a cuddler so don’t get any ideas.”

“Don’t get familiar. This knife is small but it’s sharper than you’d think.”

(Mid to high affinity) “If you like.”

“I’ve got your back, not to worry.”

Keep Your Distance:

“Thank God, you’re not exactly fresh as a daisy you know.”

“I do distance a little better if I’m honest.”

“I’ve still got your back, love,”

STEALTH:

“I can be quiet, it’s you I’m worried about. You’re carrying about thirteen desk fans.”

“I was raised by a librarian, remember? Quiet is my specialty.”

BE PASSIVE:

“What’s that old adage? Speak softly, and carry a big stick? Sounds inappropriate.”

“No need to ruffle any unnecessary feathers.”

“I’ve always preferred the diplomatic approach.”

BE AGGRESSIVE:

“Surely there’s a better way to go about this.”

“I won’t go in guns blazing unless you have a very good reason for it.”

“I hope you know what you’re getting us into.”

USE STIMPACK

“(Sighs) God, I hate needles,”

“Thanks love, I really appreciate it.”

“(Hissing) That stings, doesn’t it?”

WAIT HERE

“Sure, I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy.”

“Here out in the middle of nowhere? You’re sure?”

“If you take too long don’t be surprised if I’m not exactly where you left me.”

FOLLOW ME:

“Aw, things were just getting exciting! One more chapter? (Sigh) fine, I’m coming.”

“Right then, off we go.”

“Finally, what took you so long?”

DISMISSED:

“You’re sure? Alright then, watch yourself out there.”

“Try not to get up to too much mischief without me.”

Romanced: “If you’re sure...be careful, love. Please.”

Sent home to base:

“Alright, I can go drop off what we’ve gathered so far and start cataloging! That’s always my favorite part.”

“Keep your eye out for any books, please.”

Enemies (long range):

“(Sigh) we never get very far, do we?”

“Alright, if you must. Their funeral, right?”

“Aw shit! Did you see that too?”

CLOSE RANGE

“Dammit! They snuck up on us!”

“This isn’t how I wanted my afternoon to go, you know,”

“You’d think we would have been able to smell this lot coming.”

LIKES:

Intelligent and sarcastic Soles. Hacking terminals. Picking up comic books and magazines. Haggling for better prices with merchants. Reuniting Billy with his family, agreeing to be the general of the Minutemen, supporting Piper and the press.

Dislikes: Chem usage, stealing, low intelligence answers, making fun of Sheffield, selling Billy. You know, basic bad stuff.

Romanceable?

Yes

Romance lines

“You know, I’ve read a lot of love stories, but this, this is something else.”

“You know I think my Grandad would have actually approved of you, (laughs) trust me that’s the highest compliment I could ever give you.”

“What do you need, love?”

“Anything troubling you, darling?”

“Okay okay that’s enough of that mushy stuff.”

Lover’s embrace lines:

“(Yawning) is it really morning already?”

“You know, I used to hate mornings, but waking up to you has significantly improved my opinion of them,”

“Morning, love,”

Companion Perk:

Comprehensive Study-Books and magazines stat bost has permanently increased by 30%

Personal Quest pt. 1- Strictly Business

pt. 2-Before her highest affinity she’ll admit her dream to build a library like her mother’s. She’ll show you the plans she and her grandfather drew up back in the Capital Wasteland and you can build Nora’s Library at any settlement. After Sole does that Nora becomes romancable.

There you have it! The Nora Lee, the Commonwealth’s first traveling librarian!

[ao3feed-ncis]

CIA Confidential

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2wj7arz

by Knightblade

Spencer Reid is sent into an Undercover assignment by the CIA to get the evidence to bring down a violent money launderer, without the teams knowledge as to where he's gone or why until he's gone. Spencer has to make choices he struggles with. After he is gone as long as he can take, and a heart-felt declaration, he hopes his friends can get him home.

Words: 22538, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Criminal Minds, NCIS

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Mateo Cruz, John Richmond, Jack Hotchner, Jessica Brooks, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Tony DiNizzo, Abby Sciuto, Donald "Ducky" Mallard, Jimmy Palmer, Timothy McGee, Diana Reid, Henry LaMontagne, Grant Anderson

Relationships: Aaron Hotchner / Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid / OC

Additional Tags: canon type violence, Crime Scenes, Autopsy, Body Bags, morgue, Corpses, Murder, Faked Suicide, Stitches, Surgery, Hospitals, gun shot wounds, stab wounds, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pain, Abusive Relationship, consensual loveless sex, Loneliness, Undercover Assignment, Assault, Crutches, Canes, Doctors, Protective Custody, Courtroom, judges, Lawyers, Security, Panic Attacks, Sedation, Prescribed medicine useage, Boys Kissing, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Desk Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Condoms, Lube, saliva, unconventional lubricant, mentions of BDSM, Hickies, Biting, p with p, Smut, loving smut, Orgasms, Swearing, Running and Hiding, Car Chase, Helicopters, Computer Hacking, CIA, NCIS - Freeform, FBI, Police, Self-Defense, Pet Rats, Assets & Handlers, Betrayal, Money laundering, embezzlement, I over tag because I worry, Engagement, Weddings, Dancing, a bit angsty, Possibly fluff, Stalking, Words, Hypothermia

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2wj7arz

[artist-kreating-stuff]

I’ve been thinking about this little lady for a while now, so I figured it was about time that I introduced her!

Meet Eli, or Hack Rat! Her birth name is Elizabeth, but she thinks it makes her sound like a dead queen. She either goes by Eli (e-lie) or Hack Rat, thank you very much.

Facts:

- She’s a descendant of Sora and Arin, and the newest Elemental Master of Technology. On top of that, her father is a Whack Rat from the Prime Empire video game realm, which is where she got her giant ears. True to her mixed heritage, she’s a real tech head, preferring to keep her nose in some form of machinery then out in the real world. Whenever someone asks her why, her answer is always “Because the real world is f*cked up. Nobody wants to deal with that sh!t.”

Her father made sure she was fluent in curses and various swear words by the time she was 9.

- Her parents own and live above “Riyu’s Pies”, a generational pie shop located in the Crossroads. Growing up in a pie shop meant she was taught the family’s legendary pie recipes at a young age, and she’s expected to help her parents when business gets hectic, but she mostly uses the basement for her various projects. She can create devices with just a thought and a snap, but she likes to take various pieces of technology apart to get a further understanding of how it works.

She’s also down there because it’s only place where she can play her drums where her mother won’t twist her ear off for waking up the entire neighborhood.

- Despite being the Master of Technology, she rarely takes notes of what she creates. She always says that the only way to create something new is to forget the old, and that creating something that creates explosions isn’t that difficult. “You blow stuff up and then keep blowing stuff up until you get somewhere - it’s not that hard!”

- She’s especially a fan of devices that create flashy explosions, so she’s often commissioned to create fireworks for various festivals and fairs. She keeps slightly more dangerous versions of her fireworks on her to use as bombs if she’s ever in a pinch. Her go-to plan for any serious situation is “Plan Boom-Boom”. Shh - don’t tell her parents or PIXAL…

She can take any pre-made device and mentally rewire its circuits to turn it into a bomb. From there, she can mentally pull the trigger and set it off, but she likes to put on a show. She does this thing where she makes a gun shape with her thumb, pointer and middle finger and slowly counts down until only her thumb is left, like she’s about to press a button. “Tick… tick… BOOM.”

- Eli is often referred to as “the Fix-It Girl” by her customers and neighbors. She’s well known for being given a broken toy or piece of technology and fixing it up good as new and even better. But the title has another meaning. She has a strong sense of justice, and whenever she sees something going down that she views as wrong or “broken”, she will do everything in her power to “fix it”. If that means a blown up building, so be it.

- Unlike the others of her generation, her Elemental Power developed at a young age. It was a relatively easy power, in her opinion, as all she needed was a couple pieces of metal and/or technology and her imagination. And in her words, “I’ve always had a big imagination.” She thinks that her relative ease with her power gives off the impression that she’s had it easy with her training. It’s far from true, but she works hard to convince them otherwise.

- Her father and his kind have lived in Ninjago for several generations up to this point, but they’re still viewed as an “invasive species” by the city’s more conservative citizens. Eli has often faced the backlash from her mixed genetics, as well. She loves her father regardless and is not ashamed of showing off her rat genes; her ears are always on full display and she shaves sparingly (it wouldn’t change much anyway - it grows back the next day). She even designed a titanium “rat tail” belt that can unwrap and extend at her mental command.

Whack Rats are far from the only targeted “invasive species” in Ninjago, though. Eli often strikes up friendships with the children of these other “invasive species”, offering them whatever solace and support she can in the face of such adversity. She especially cares for her girlfriend, who’s a mixed child of the Serpentine tribes.

(I told my dorm mates I was designing a LGBTQ+ character and showed them the line art, and they went absolutely ballistic over her design. My girl already has fans 😂.)

- Her usual clothing ensemble consists of several pockets and a backpack, as she always keeps pieces of metal and technology on her to manipulate at a moment’s notice. Those pink sticks strapped to her thighs may look simple, but they’re actually the most sophisticated pieces of technology that she’s ever created. They’re practically indestructible and contain several settings for both long and close range combat, interchangeable only by her Elemental Power. These settings include:

[artist-kreating-stuff]

I was experimenting with a simpler anime-style and a different background brush.

Guess where Team Death Wish is now.

(Just realized I forgot Eli’s sticks… oops.)