Muse In Gifs

Repost don’t reblog!

Tagged by @bluteamblueprints

Pick 5 words that describe your muse’s personality and then search for those in the gif section. The first one that pops up under each word is what you use.  Don’t tell others what the 5 words are, see if they can figure it out.

Then tag five others.

Honestly not even I will be able to figure out what these are in a day when I forget.

Tagging: @misspauling @donnez-moi-vos-vivres @redheav @youknowwhoyouarecouriermun and anyone who hasn’t been tagged yet!

Starter for @necklace-of-teeth

necklace-of-teeth:

oldboyjensrps:

necklace-of-teeth:

oldboyjensrps:

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.”

“Van it is then.” He said with a nod. He reached out, giving her a small pat on the shoulder. “Right Then, follow me. You can sit shotgun. How’s that sound?” He said as he led her out around the base towards the van that served as his home.

The pat gained him a startled “Baugh!” From somewhere deep in her diaphragm. Which Messenger then decided to pretend never happened and nodded, blushing, as she hefted her Vespa over her shoulders like a soldier carry but upside down and an entire small motorcycle. It was immediately a bad idea, but she refused to back down. How she managed to carry it all the way to his trailer probably had to do with weird eel magic or just pure spite.

“Shotgun’s good. I’ll be your gunner in a drive by. We’ll both die because I’m nearsighted and my gun shoots mail, but hey it’s the thought that counts. Do you mind if we stow the banana? I promise she doesn’t take up much room, but I can’t leave her on base. Like contractually.” She nodded to the scooter.

He mentally shook his head as she picked up her vehicle and hefted it over her shoulders despite it clearing being almost too heavy for her to carry. “I don’t think we’ll be doing any drivebys.” He chuckled. “Ain’t a very professional way of killing folks.” 
“Yeah, No problem.” He nodded at her question and walked around the back of his van, opening the door and nodding to signal her to stow it away inside. 

“Well that’s good and reassuring,” She grunted as she set the bike down and locked the brake in place, “Heheh, it’s always funny to put a vehicle inside another one like a fish riding a fish.”

She closed the door, careful to check for a wordless “ok” from him to touch his van-by slowly closing it and making eyeish contact. If he reacted badly she would step back hands off right away. It might be easier to ask outright, but she was already doing it before she thought to.

Messenger headed to the shotgun side and stood by the door waiting for him to get in. No way was she getting in first. She was trying very hard to walk on eggshells.

bluteamblueprints:

oldboyjensrps:”  

“That’s like a workout coach but more scrappy. I like it. So much better than any wrinkly old motherfucker who thinks Freud knew actually anything about the human consciousness. That’s who I’d wanna fight. Give me Sigmund Freud’s shriveled mummy to whallop. That’d make anyone feel better.”

“I don’t think he’d stand a chance against you, even when alive and young. You’d kick has ass.” He chuckled warmly. “I’d like to fight him too honestly. Two on one.” Dell couldn’t help but grin.

“You have more faith in my scrapping ability than anyone ever, Dell. I like the tag teaming. We can do it like ping pong, knock his head back and forth and stuff.”

She grinned too, imagining.

“True friendship is beating the fuckening daylights out of an old man. Well, specific old men.”

jupiteradepts:

me giving affection: oh man i really hope im not like overstepping my boundaries here. what if i make them uncomfortable? do they feel obligated to say thank you? am i going too far and scaring them? what if i’m annoying?

me receiving affection: AAAAAAAAA!!!!! AAAAAAA!A!!!!!!!AAAAAAAAAAAA

bluteamblueprints:

oldboyjensrps:

“If it is, that’s motivation for me to go back to school,” She rested her forehead against his, “Maybe that’s what people mean by physical therapist. Or they should mean, anyway.”

He laughed softly “sounds about right” he joked. The Engineer rested his head on hers. “Think of all the possibilities that could come from it. You could have just cuddling therapists, maybe some who you fight.”  

“That’s like a workout coach but more scrappy. I like it. So much better than any wrinkly old motherfucker who thinks Freud knew actually anything about the human consciousness. That’s who I’d wanna fight. Give me Sigmund Freud’s shriveled mummy to whallop. That’d make anyone feel better.”