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bluteamblueprints:

oldboyjensrps:

“Something looney tunesey” she agreed.

Messenger’s cast arm stuck out the window of the truck and she sank back into the chair.

And then he went and said that. Messenger stared at Dell for a solid minute in shock. Sure, he wasn’t in one of the more secretive classes, but name swapping in the Merc world in general was…heavy. It took Messenger a while to process, and her eyes welled up a bit because friendship is beautiful and also she was in just… so much pain.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her rest. “You sure? I uh, I know it’s a touchy thing. But…I’m sorry I can’t offer mine. Not here. It uh, kinda belongs to the company…”

The old truck rumbled to a start, and the radio kicked on. A country station played a quiet song that was hard to hear over the rumbling of the old engine in the truck. Dell wasn’t sure how old it was exactly, but whenever something went wrong with it he’d spend as much time as he needed trying to fix it.

“I understand” he told her, smiling softly. He pulled the truck out of the parking lot of the hospital as he spoke “are you going to be alright for the drive, she can get a little bumpy sometimes.”

“Thank you…Dell,”she treated his name like a baby bird, gentle and cautious.

“I think I should be able to manage? If it gets bad enough I might pass out so that’s kind of a lose win situation there. But I’m on some meds so I think I’ll make it. I’m not gonna fall asleep anytime soon though, so feel free to ask questions. It’d help to distract.” 

coolhotdad:

my perfect crime? I memorize the entirety of the macy’s store inventory. I then go on aliexpress.com and find exact replicas of every single purse in the store. I break in at 3am, and replace every purse with a cheaper version of the purse. I take my real purses home and open up an online store on the darknet featuring fake purses. I then sell these real purses as fake purses, making it so that when the feds catch on to my antics, they spend countless years trying to figure out who can replicate purses this well, and who is selling them. Soon an entire division of the FBI is dedicated to finding me and figuring out how my “fake” purses appear to be real. 45 years later they finally trace my ip address and break into my villa in texas and shoot me right in the leg when i attempt to flee. While this would normally not be a fatal wound, due to my constant devotion to my online fake real purse storefront i have suffered an iron deficiency for 35 years. My blood can’t clot and I start to bleed out. Turns out the woman who shot me was a girl who i made out with once in college, and she holds my dying body in her arms and asks me how my fake purses were so real. I spend the last moments of my fleeting life telling her about how every five years i break into a different Macy’s and replace all the purses, and that the purses I have been selling online for a severely discounted price were actually all real, and I have been doing this purely for the gag of it all. When my former college girlfriend gets home from work after rightfully murdering me for my crimes, she goes into her walk in closet, looks at the 13 gucci purses she owns, and realizes that they’re all fakes.

What motivates her? What are her ideals? Is she happy with what she is doing right now? Is she proud of herself? If she could change one thing right now, what would it be?

Messenger is motivated by the intense desire to be useful. She really, really, REALLY wants to do a good job. Her professional drive has a very emotional undercurrent of longing to be worth something to someone: in this case the Administrator. On the other hand, love is another big motivator- almost always  in a “caring for someone’s well-being and wanting to help them” sense. This isn’t limited to people she actually knows; seeing people in danger or hurting (almost) no matter who they are is a big drive to act on her part. Meaning that sometimes the two motivators… clash a little. *(see nearly every injury she’s ever gotten on the job)

The third big motivator is spite. It has both kept her alive and screwed her over many times.

Ideals (the biggest ones)

1. Honor Commitment- Messenger is pretty literally ride or die. If she’s committed to a job, a person, or anything really- it often takes precedence over her own wellbeing. 

2. Honesty Is the best policy- which causes a lot of internal conflict with her because… well her job means keeping secrets. It’s okay if it’s acting though.

3. Take responsibility 

4. Choose kindness when you can 

5. Death is coming: Be as unapologetically

weird as you are 

6. Do whatever you can for those you love

7. Defend the innocent

8. Don’t be a dick and don’t be pretentious 

Is she happy?

Messenger actually is, most of the time, very happy with what she is doing. She’s good at her job and she’s made friends that she cares about and spends time with. They even care about her back. She feels useful and helpful, and like she’s accomplished a lot. She is very proud of herself and how far she’s come from when she was a kid. She can barely admit it to herself though. Because her self esteem is… iffy. She tries though.

If she could change one thing right now? About her life in total? It’s a little cliche but she would change how her dad acts about and sees her. Or just find someone to fill that void in her life.

bluteamblueprints:

oldboyjensrps:

“Thank God” She gasped, getting her breath back, “and thank you again Engie, fuck that was wild”

She slumped a bit in the chair as they got closer to the truck. Exhaustion and pain set in.

“Like some sorta Charlie Chaplin chase.”

He laughed “all that was missing was some kind of chase music” he joked. Dell wheeled his friend up to the old looking truck, its paint chipping off in some places. 

Gently he helped her out of the chair and into the passenger seat of his truck. “You can call me Dell if you like” he told her “ain’t on the clock right now anyways, we can be casual.” 

“Something looney tunesey” she agreed.

Messenger’s cast arm stuck out the window of the truck and she sank back into the chair.

And then he went and said that. Messenger stared at Dell for a solid minute in shock. Sure, he wasn’t in one of the more secretive classes, but name swapping in the Merc world in general was…heavy. It took Messenger a while to process, and her eyes welled up a bit because friendship is beautiful and also she was in just… so much pain.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her rest. “You sure? I uh, I know it’s a touchy thing. But…I’m sorry I can’t offer mine. Not here. It uh, kinda belongs to the company…”

Morning Though Excercise

Imagining Merc Messenger in the place of the crash test dummy during “Expiration Date”

Being used as a puppet to get through to a merc? Daily task no problem. Also fun to make stupid faces while lipsyncing spy’s speech.

Yeah that seems about in character. 

Honestly I’m just glad I paused on this frame for the book titles alone.

Starter for @necklace-of-teeth

necklace-of-teeth:

oldboyjensrps:

necklace-of-teeth:

oldboyjensrps:

@necklace-of-teeth

RED Base- Badlands NM

Circa 1967

—

The Messenger had survived the briefing by the grace of either God or the Administrator. Probably the Administrator. She had a way with words and unsubtle paycut threats that Messenger was 98% sure had saved her from some sort of mercurial death. Heh. Wait shit was that why the word was mercenary? Because of mercury- wait no mercury was the messenger god, she was thinking Mars and focus. Rubbing the rope burn on her wrists from being tied to the chair, Messenger kind of looked around awkwardly at the mercs still in the rec room. 

“I uh, well… that was all I had but, uh, I’ll be back with… y’know, mail and directives and stuff. Um… well thanks for not killing me this time! I uh mean, any time. In general. Thanks.” she double finger gunned and backed out of the room, and into the hallway.

She didn’t stop moving until she had managed to find her way outside to where her scooter was waiting, certain that spy or someone would be following her. The moment her feet hit the red dust again, Messenger slid to sitting, leaning against the wall of the base. She pressed her hands to her chest to try and force her heart to stop having a fit.

“Breathe, idiot, we still have to get back,” she mumbled and wiped the sweat from her forehead, “hoo that went better than it could have though.”

He listened to her ramble on with amusement. She was certainly an interesting creature. When he pulled her up he gave a small chuckle. “Alright. I know some good places in town we can go then, If you’d like.” He offered. “Or I suppose I have coffee at my van, but I ain’t sure if you’d be too comfortable with that seein how jittery you are.”

“I uh, I am a sucker for coffeeshops, and I wouldn’t wanna intrude . It’s your home, wouldn’t feel right. That’s, uh, on me, not you. On a scale of not to very, I’m just a like, y’know, rational amount of scared of you. Professional fear. Sorry, sorry, that’s a long way to say yeah sure wherever you recommend is good!” 

She dusted herself off and readjusted her glasses to not be sliding halfway down her face. 

“And uh, well I’d offer to drive but” she gestures to the very much a one seater scooter, “Small.”

“Yeah, nothing personal. S’long as its professional.” He laughed, pulling her up.

“Well, we can take my van if you’d like. Sit up front and I can drive us to the closest one if you want.” He offered. “If not, I don’t mind a bit a bit of a walk if you don’t.”

She calculated the distance and the heat for a momen. She didn’t have enough water for that kind of excursion at the moment.

“I would prefer we take the van this time- I would have to prepare for that much of a hike.”