Recent Statuses

20 days ago
Current I wanna get a Nintendo Switch just so I can play Let's Go Eevee. Fuck I miss playing Pokemon.
22 days ago
Yes, I'm alive. No, I haven't given up on RPing here. I *might* be looking to do a relaxed RP in my spare time, though come January I'll be busy with EMT school. Hooray for a career.
2 mos ago
Are there any intersex people on the guild who can give me their input on what it's like to be intersex? I'm very curious. It's a part of the LGBT community I think goes mostly unknown.
2 mos ago
I'm still alive. Somehow.
4 mos ago
Hoping to get a reply or two in tonight. Feeling motivated.



The Writing Housekeeper

Over 18, Male
Time Zone: EST
Hospital Housekeeper
If I had to describe my personality, I'd say I'm a cinnamon roll with a gun. That is all.

Support my art on Kofi! I do simple Commisions, and post on both Tumblr and DeviantArt. Paid Commisions will be posted on Kofi.

Check out my Youtube Channel for gaming, and my SoundCloud! If you like Ambient music, Dubstep, or something in between, I've got a couple of tracks there that may spark your interest.

Music I Enjoy

Because what's the world without music?

My all-time favorite band. I've been listening to them since their first EP! They're progressive metal, or "djent" as it's been called these past few years. My favorite album of theirs would have to be Juggernaut: Omega, though my favorite song is Habitual Line-Stepper from their most recent album. I actually met all of the band members up close and personal when I had VIP access at one of their shows in Boston. They are the most down-to-earth and kind men I've ever met. We talked and took pictures together, and it was a wonderful time. They put on an amazing show!

Jared Dines
Jared Dines is a Youtube comedian and musician who makes videos making fun of the metal genre and all of its quirks. He's an incredible musician and vocalist, and came out with two EPs last year, which I have signed copies of!

One of many European bands I adore, Gojira is another prog metal band (notice a theme here?). Their album L'Enfant Sauvage is my favorite, and their song Gift of Guilt is my favorite song.

Yet another prog metal band that's captivated my interest since the dawn of their existence, Tesseract has seen many vocalists (my personal favorite being Ashe O'Hara), but their music is always incredible. My favorite album would have to be Altered State, though my favorite song is Perfection, which has been done by all three of the different vocalists at different points in time. I actually like Elliot Coleman's version of Perfection the most.

Probably one of the more world-wide known bands on this list, Tool has transcended generations of metal lovers. My dad listen to Tool all the time when I was a kid, and I got hooked on it. My favorite album is 10,000 Days, but there are waaay too many good songs of theirs for me to just pick one favorite.

This band formerly had the current vocalist of Tesseract in their lineup, but they now have Eric Emery, who has the most wonderful slightly-raspy vocals I've ever heard. I'm impatiently awaiting the release of their next album, which is slow-coming. I know it will be worth the wait with the songs they've teased us with!

Another band that my dad introduced me to as a child, Mudvayne is a band very dear to my heart. My favorite album would have to be The End of All Things to Come, but I enjoy all of them.

Yet another band my wonderful dad introduced me to as a kid, Static-X is a nostalgia (wisconsin death) trip for me. My favorite album is probably Shadow Zone, but Wisconsin Death Trip and Cannibal are close behind. I really miss these guys. RIP Wayne Static.

I do art! It's not the best in the world, but if you'd like a character portrait done, I'm willing to make one. Here's my tumblr where you can view the art I've posted there!

If you have any questions about me, feel free to ask! I try to be friendly to everyone.

Most Recent Posts

It came as no shock that the violence continued through the halls of the blimp, Roadhog shredding his way through the guards who hadn't been blown to bits by Junkrat's handy little grenades. When the pot-bellied man ascended the stairs that appeared to lead to an office, Junkrat took a moment to absorb his surroundings. There were more guards coming from around the corner; this blimp wreckage was massive wasn't it? reaching to the back of his belt, Junkrat procured a crudely-made bear trap. He hated using these things because they couldn't be removed, not because he wanted to get whoever stepped in it out, but because the only way to get it off was to break it. And breaking things meant repairing, which was just boring.

Oh well.

Quickly setting the trap down on the ground where he figured the guards would come rushing around the corner, Junkrat stepped back and hid behind, ironically, a garbage bin. His patience paid off, and as one man rounded the corner, he stepped directly on the center of the trap, the mouth snapping shut with a sickening crunch. The guard screamed and tried to pry his leg free, as did the second guard who followed, but there was no use. The jaws had latched shut, just as designed. Now it'd be impossible to remove without breaking the metal pieces, which usually meant shooting it.

Junkrat sprung forth from his hiding spot, firing a volley of grenades at the panicked guards, who quickly became nothing more than splatters on the walls. He couldn't help but laugh; that had worked perfectly! He'd have to make another trap when he had the time, they were too brilliant. Glancing around once again, the ex-Junker didn't hear any other commotion. He guessed there were likely valuables somewhere around here, particularly food and water. With so many people having been here, there was bound to be something of use.

Entering a nearby room that appeared to be someone's quarters, Junkrat began sifting around the mess to see what he could find. He ignored the noise he could hear upstairs, clearly Roadhog had it handled. It didn't take long for that huge bounty hunter to come back down and squeeze himself through the doorframe.

"Got it, Roadie! I don't like stairs much anyways." Shaking his peg leg at Roadhog for emphasis, Junkrat grinned. He found himself strangely... alright with having him around. As scary as the masked man was, so long as Junk didn't do anything stupid (which was bound to happen), he didn't seem like that much of a threat!
Junkrat didn't say much on the ride to the blimp. He was, for once, taking time to process everything that had just happened. Somehow he'd weaseled his way out of getting killed by Roadhog, and was now partnered up with him to raid some supplies. He wasn't any stranger to working with others, being a Junker and all, but ever since he'd found that omnium fusion core he'd abandoned his former ties to people. What he had was worth more than safety in numbers.

After all, what did an explosives expert need with a bunch of reject Junkers anyways? He could blow shit up and get out unscathed. Well, mostly anyways. A glance down at his peg leg reminded him that things could go very wrong when it came to something as dangerous as explosives. Junkrat nearly hissed in pain at just the thought of what it felt like to lose his leg, and what he'd done to keep himself from dying from it. The explosive had gone off accidentally, and mangled everything from his knee down. There were no doctors, no surgeons, no nothing in the Outback. So he had to fix it himself. He'd used a fragment of metal to sever what was left of the scraps of skin below his knee while the shock kept him from being in agony, then wrapped his thigh with a belt to stop the bleeding. From there, he'd lit a campfire in the dark of the starry Australian night, then shoved his mauled stub into the flames to cauterize it shut.

He'd wound up with an infection and nearly died from the fucking thing, but somehow he pulled through. It wasn't so bad now, but he never wanted to do that shit again. Yeah, life in this wasteland was no piece of cake, but Junkrat still wanted to live. And he'd do anything to live as healthy and prosperous as he could, without having to deal with goddamn suits or omnics.

Looking beside him to Roadhog, Junkrat decided then and there that he'd stick by this bloke for as long as necessary to stay alive. Another accident like the one with his leg, and he didn't know if he could do it again without help. Maybe it was too soon to trust Roadhog to save his life, after all Roadie knew where the fusion core was now. Shit, that was the plan, huh? Roadhog knew where the core was, and was gonna kill Junkrat out here, then go back and get it for himself. Fuck.

Arriving at the wreckage, it didn't take long at all for Roadhog to kill a man. Not that lives meant much out here, but still. The big guy was proving himself to be ruthless without hesitation. Following Roadie to the blimp, Junkrat reached onto his belt and retrieved his handmade grenade launcher, loading it then following up behind the larger man.

"Won't be the first time I've killed for a drop of water." Junkrat mentioned, unable to help the grin on his face as he began firing his launcher at the guards as the came. It was too easy to catch them in the explosions when they didn't realize what was being shot at them. The grenades looked awfully inconspicuous, just as intended!
Junkrat's brows first raised in surprise at the boldness of Roadhog suggesting a fifty-fifty split, then furrowed down as he narrowed his eyes in disdain at the pig-tatted man. What was this big lug trying to pull? Who did he think he was to request fifty percent of the cut, for something Junkrat risked his life to find and protect for weeks! He had no right to it! Zero! None! Zilch!

Stomping up behind Roadhog as he was beckoned over, Junkrat started to protest; "I don't think you know what it took me to find that bloody core, and you don't deserve-", but Junkrat was cut off by that rumbling voice interjecting and telling of a crashed blimp in the middle of nowhere. Well, close enough to nowhere. The Outback was full of nothing ever since the explosion, just endless radiated landscape. But sometimes one could stumble across valuables in the form of wreckage. Or even better- a place to hunker down and stay safe.

Though, not everyone used those locations to live in. Crime was rampant in this lawless wasteland, and it was no surprise to hear that kidnappers used a blimp wreckage to hold tourists hostage. It was no business of Junkrat's to go in and be a hero, and quite honestly he didn't care about those people dumb enough to get caught by a bunch of irradiated thieves. However, the prospect of gear and maybe even something to eat or drink that wasn't radiated was enough to convince Junkrat to go along with this brazen plan.

"Well alright, Roadie, but don't get any smart ideas! No higher than fifty! I'm sure whatever's stored there aside from people is worth a pretty penny. Plus maybe we can find some food. I haven't eaten anything that hasn't made me sick as a dog in days. I'm withering away, mate!"
"Right." Junkrat brought a hand to his chin in thought. "Talk. About the deal. About you getting a cut of whatever I make off of this fusion core."

He had to think wisely on this. He still wasn't sure whether or not he could trust Roadhog completely. Give the big guy too much of a cut, and he'd use that money against him. Offer too little, and it'd probably wind up with the grave of an ex-Junker planted right beside this very Boab tree.

"How about uh, sixty-five to thirty-five split? I get sixty-five percent of the cut. You get thirty-five. It is my fusion core after all. I could have easily just taken it and sold it off and kept the riches for myself, but I'm being nice. Generous even!" He pat the ground over the fusion core. "This baby was no easy find, let me tell you."

It's true, it'd taken a hell of a lot of effort to scrounge that shiny little orb out of the radioactive pit it's been stuck in. The old omnium factory, the one that had blown sky high, was full of valuable materials. But the radiation there was so dangerous hardly anyone bothered.

Well, anyone but Junkrat. He really didn't give a rat's ass if he'd lived or died prior to finding the fusion core. Not like cancer would kill him right away anyways, right? So he'd gone through the rubble with a few fellow Junkers who didn't have a care for their health, and he'd eventually plucked the core from a heap of scrap metal. And subsequently killed the other Junkers, before running like a madman away from the factory.

Having absorbed a more acute dose of radiation than the typical amount received just from being in the Outback itself, his body generally felt like shit for a few weeks. It'd been miserable. He'd spent most of his time hiding in whatever shelter he could, trying to keep food down and get rest. He'd lost some hair, and weight off his already skinny body by the time he started to feel normal again. Well, as normal as one could feel after self-inflicted radiation poisoning.
Junkrat figured the news of an intact fusion core would surprise any wastelander who knew what it was, and he wished he could see Roadhog's face behind his mask to see his expression. Instead, those tinted lenses remained on the lack of a road ahead. Ever the brooding type, eh? Or maybe brooding just wasn't the word to describe Roadhog- maybe a better choice was contemplative. The big guy seemed quiet, or at least short-spoken, and didn't beat around the bush when he did talk.

As they neared a large vertical rock sticking out of a dried up ravine, Junkrat tapped Roadhog's arm. "Hang a right around this rock. Through the ditch. See the Boab with the two trunks to the northwest? Stop at that tree." He instructed, hoping his memory served him right. He'd buried the fusion core somewhere around that tree. It'd been the dead of night so his sense of direction had been skewed, but he was almost certain it was this particular tree.

Once Roadhog brought the chopper to a halt nearby the boab tree, Junkrat hastily scrambled out, on the hunt for his precious fusion core. He looked around at the ground, humming in thought. "It's around here somewhere, mate. I swear. It's buried in the ground by this tree, just gotta remember which side."

Inspecting the dry dirt as he paced around the tree, he came to a spot where it looked like the ground had been disturbed. Kneeling down, Junkrat used his bare hands to dig down and tear the soil up. Sure enough, he'd found his treasure about twelve inches below the surface.

Reaching down with both hands, a wicked grin on his face, he took the round metallic object in his hands. There was a faint yellow glow from the pit of the center of the steel orb, signaling that indeed, it still had power. Or at least he assumed that's what it meant. Stuff that glowed was either radioactive or energized. He liked to think he wasn't holding fistfuls of radiation at the moment.

"Here it is... A beaut', am I right?" He asked, turning to Roadhog. "This is the whole reason blokes have been hunting me down. Funny ain't it? This little thing causing all these problems?"

Junkrat almost laughed, but he was certain that would have gotten him another knot on the skull. It was such a fitting name for the massive, pig-tatted man. Question was, was the tattoo the inspiration for the name, or was it the other way around? He supposed he could ask at a later time if he didn't wind up dead by the end of his dealings with the gargantuan bounty hunter.

Looking over to Roadhog as he asked about the treasure, Junkrat couldn't help but grin. It excited him to talk about his amazing find, his lucky break, his treasure that made him more valuable than anything else in this god-forsaken wasteland. Since he really had no choice but to tell the hog what he wanted to know, otherwise the information would probably be beaten out of him, the ex-Junker started.

"Imagine something so powerful that even suits outside the Outback would envy it. Something that makes me more important than even the Junker Queen herself. What I found is a source of power that she would use to keep herself on her throne permanently. That's what I have, and that's what everyone wants. If they get their hands on it, they could kick the Junker Queen out, or they could sell it to the suits for more money than anyone could imagine. And I can imagine a lot of money, mate."

Turning his head forward, looking at the terrain around them to make sure they were heading the right direction, Junkrat smirked as he finished speaking, hardly able to contain his smugness.

"I found an Omnium fusion core."
Junkrat curiously turned his head as he too heard the noises outside. There were certainly not many animals left in the Outback, so it was unlikely that a dingo or anything of the sort would be rummaging around outside. Watching his captor get up and stand by the door, the battered Junker had no choice but to sit and wait to see if it was a threat. Damn it, he'd really fucked this up. He didn't want to have to share the treasure with anyone, especially not someone who slammed his head into a countertop. He'd have a lump on his balding head for weeks, he was sure. He was lucky to have some hair left despite all the radiation and explosives he'd gone through, but that wasn't enough to protect him from much of anything hitting his head. Hell, none of his clothes were suited for protection. Most of the time he didn't need it, considering lobbing explosives from a distance and setting traps was his expertise. But close combat wasn't his specialty. Maybe he deserved that lump. A reminder that he should set more traps next time he decided to hunker down.

The tattooed brute tossed a tin can towards Junkrat, and in quick response to the noise, two scrappy-looking bounty hunters entered the room, excited in their luck and apparent triumph. Junkrat couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking his head. "Big mistake, mates."

It was almost as soon as the words left his mouth that the gargantuan man who'd somehow yet to be noticed despite his size, sprang into action, instantly mortally wounding one of the poor blokes. While that one collapsed to the floor next to Junkrat, bleeding profusely, the other was promptly slammed into that same counter and held tightly by the throat. Junkrat almost wanted to laugh; hey, that's my countertop, he hit my head on it first!

Listening closely to the brief conversation between the choking man and the pig-bellied hunter, the Junker found no surprise that the Queen was involved. She was tied up in everything in the Outback, especially if it had to do with notable people like Junkrat himself. Okay, maybe he wasn't very notable until he'd found the treasure, but still! He was important enough to send people to their deaths for now. A grim thought, but this whole Outback was worse than a couple of dead bounty hunters.

Hearing a stomach-churning crack come from the neck of the subdued guy, the room was now filled with two dead men and two living ones. Junkrat half expected when he was approached by his captor to be slugged in the face or something, but instead, those massive hands reached for the cuffs and undid them from his wrists. Standing up now, the confused Junker rubbed his sore head as he followed the man out to his motorcycle. It even had a sidecar.

"Well..." he muttered, before his arm was harshly grabbed and a threat was snarled into his face. Sufficiently convinced, Junkrat nodded quickly before he was let go. "Right, well, head north from here and I'll tell you what directions to take, mate."

"What's your name anyways?"
As Junkrat's head was smashed into the counter, his vision went blurry for a few moments, and the pain was enough to send him to the floor. He felt consciousness wavering, but stayed awake. He dared not try to scurry away; even if he could get to his feet and stumble away, he'd just get hooked again. This hog sure as hell didn't care if his bounty came back in good shape. Alive, even if barely, was usually the only condition that mattered. The tattooed bloke's heavy steps left the room for only a moment before lumbering back. Before Junkrat knew it, his arm was yanked to the side and cuffed to a wooden pole. Now sitting upright on the cold floor, the ex-Junker had a moment to shake off that blow to the head.

He held his free hand over his now-swollen scalp, staring at the floor, thinking on what he was going to do now that he was most definitely not getting away. Not easily anyways. Maybe he could convince the big lug to let him go so he could get the treasure and bring it back to him? No, he'd have to be an absolute dumbass for that to work, and this round-bellied brute had more smarts to him than it looked like he would.


Junkrat shoot his head slightly, furrowing his brow in frustration. His head hurt so damn bad, he couldn't think of a plan. He couldn't make a way out of captivity so quickly. There were some very extreme thoughts that came to mind; breaking his own hand to escape the cuffs, or blowing his arm off, or chewing through the wooden pole, or... Nothing practical. Those would be too obvious, and even more painful than the bump on his head. Maybe not the chewing through the wood one, but it wasn't like his teeth were all totally secure in his skull anymore. There weren't exactly dentists in the Outback.

When the pig-tatted man returned to the room with wood scraps and lit a fire to keep them warm, Junkrat looked up to him with a confused look. What, he wasn't just gonna leave him here in the cold until morning? What bounty hunter gave that much of a fuck about his bounty? Then, the big guy asked a question that was to be expected.

"Not here." Junkrat answered. "Ya think I'm dumb enough to keep it on me, mate? I may have a few screws loose, but I know better than to keep something that valuable with me when people are looking for it."
Junkrat had been so engaged in his thinking and scribbling the he hadn't heard any noise from outside until it was far too late. By the time he turned his head to see who had practically thrown the door off its hinges, he was already grabbed and squeezed by a pair of huge hands. He vaguely recognized this gargantuan, tattooed bloke, like he'd seen him before somewhere. Junkrat almost paused to think on where he'd seen the masked man before, but his attention was obviously needed elsewhere. He had to get out of this grasp, otherwise he'd be dragged somewhere and probably turned in as a bounty. Paid more to bring in live bounties, after all.

Living up to the rat part of his name, Junkrat chomped down on the hog-bellied brute's hand, and surprisingly, it actually worked. Granted, the teeth had broken skin and it probably hurt like a bitch, so maybe it wasn't so surprising after all. He expected to be dropped from the action, but not thrown. The scrappy Junker hit the ground hard and had to take a moment before he could make his escape. Shaking off the hurt, Junkrat got to his feet (or foot and peg, rather), and looked upwards towards the hatch in the ceiling. There, that was his way out. He knew it'd come in handy!

Jumping up, the surprisingly tall Junkrat grabbed hold of the edges of the roof, but the son of a bitch who was after him was quicker. And he had a god damn chain with a hook at the end. Like a god damn fish on the end of a line, the hook wrapped around his chest and started digging into his skin as the bounty hunter yanked at the chain, pulling him down from the ledge, and inching the resistant Junker closer and closer to what would be a painful lesson in how not to run away from an enemy.

"Wait!" He shouted, putting on a pained smile as he made a last ditch effort to bargain for his freedom. "Wait, you're after the treasure, aren't ya? That's what everyone wants, right? Listen, I'll split whatever profit I get from this thing, however much it is, I'll split it with ya! How's that sound? You get a cut, I get a cut, and you don't have to take me to Junkertown! Or whoever you're working for!"
There was no place like home, the old saying went. No place like the Outback, full of dangerous critters and plantlife that'd kill you more than help you. Some would call natives crazy, but only some of them were. And even then, the damn Omnics seemed to make the desert landscape more of a hellhole than it already was. Raging heat complimented by emotionless robots constantly attacking, always an onslaught against the humans occupying the land. To top off the madness, the government signed a peace treaty with the bots. A peace treaty! With the omnics that would rather see them dead!

The Australian Liberation Front had an answer to that, an answer of violence and explosions. One which altered the very way of life of those in the Outback. A detonation like no other at the Omnium which produced the bots resulted in a nuclear fallout that swept along the Outback like a blazing fire, irradiating everything in its path. Jamison Fawkes had been a simple man, a resident of the Outback, a smart man who somehow wound up living in the middle of the desert. But after the radiation changed everything, changed him and the way his mind ticked, Jamison was no more.

He'd donned scraps of clothes, fashioned his own explosives out of the wreckage, picked up scrap through the radiated wasteland like the madman he'd become. He and some other fellas had made themselves a living among the scrap, peddling it for what they could, building anew and dismantling anything salvageable they could get their grimy hands on. Called themselves Junkers. His name became simple, easy to say, easy to remember, and exactly what he was. Junkrat, scrounging the wastes like a rat in search of cookie crumbs, had been born from the radiation.

It'd only been a month since he'd found it in the ruins of the old, radiation-plagued Omnium, and already he had bounties on his head from those in charge. After he'd killed off his fellow Junkers because he knew they'd be greedy and want to take it from him, Junkrat traveled until he found a place small and secure, where he could rest for a little while. Hunker down and think of is next move. What would he even do with the damn thing? It was so valuable, should he just keep it like a trophy, or sell it to the highest bidder, or just bury it somewhere like a squirrel with a nut? The possibilities were endless, but damn it, he didn't have time to think with these nearly constant attacks from bounty hunters most likely sent from the Queen. That bitch, always giving him a hard time.

He'd found the town of Marla. Used to be a tiny tourist destination, now just scraps of buildings no one lived in for years. Good place to try to get some plotting done, if nothing else. He'd set up in a ramshackle little building that appeared to have been a petrol station at one point in time, though there was no certainly if it had been in use prior to the Omnium explosion. Not that it mattered anyways.

There was a storage room in the back with an intact door. All it took was some old-fashioned elbow grease and the crafty former-Junker had made a makeshift lock to hold the door shut for now. It wouldn't hold against any kind of grenade or anything of the sort, but it'd take some effort from your average scrappy bounty hunter to get through. By the time they got through it, Junkrat would make an escape through a hatch in the ceiling. Used to be part of an air ventilation system, but whatever had once been there had fallen through and now there was a big square hole in the ceiling. The building itself was pretty short, so if Junkrat stood straight up and reached his hands all the way up, then jumped, he could grab onto the edge and pull himself up. From the roof, he'd jump on down and run off wherever he could.

Sitting on the floor, facing the walk, Junkrat scrawled on the wall with a piece of chalk, trying to plan out his next move. Head out of the Outback, try to find a buyer? No, he hated associating with civvies. Especially suits. Those scheming bastards were always out for themselves. Junkrat laughed at this thought; he wasn't so different from a suit, all things considered. He was out for himself right now! Hah!

"Alright jamie, let's see here, what can we do with this..." He muttered to himself, bringing a hand to his chin in contemplation. He'd run out of chalk eventually, but writing things down always helped sort things out in his head. Stuff tended to get pretty scrambled up there. Staying focused was hard. Writing things down helped him keep focus on what he needed to do, and helped him remember how to make things. He had blueprints for the stuff he had with him; his trusty frag launcher, his concussion mines, his steel bear traps, and his personal favorite... a motorized explosive tire he could control remotely. He carried the tire on his back, and with how heavy it was, he hunched over because of it. But it was damn worth it to see the explosion in the distance, killing off anyone who wanted to steal from the one and only Junkrat.
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