lemimingitup-blog

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//I am so sorry about being inactive on this account and my Le Mime blog. Things have been a little hectic and both muses are just not cooperating with me. So I’ll be putting both of them on hiatus for a little while. 

You can find me at @pokenursejubilee, and I have a skype or discord available if anyone wants it. Just ask!

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technophiliac-game-changer:

“Of course. Which makes us a lovely couple.”

Agreed.

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technophiliac-game-changer:

“God. I’m so attracted.”

Death and bloodshed go well together, no?

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|What are you the god/goddess of?|

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Originally posted by vstrider

Using the new GIF function, search your faceclaim and post the first gif that shows up

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Send me ϟ for my muse to tell yours the story behind one of their scars.

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Send "🔔" to put a bell around my muse's neck

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//These seem to be going around faster than regular old promos, so please like or reblog if you would be interested in interacting with a regular old Nurse Joy! 

+{about + rules + jubilee + mun}+

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queenofheylin:

Wuya’s lips curled into a smile when seeing the mime nod. She lowered the mask, which then burned until her palm was empty. “I can assure you, I don’t usually look like a floating piñata.” she chuckled.

Not that being a ghost didn’t have its perks, she just preferred a physical body. The witch couldn’t grab Shen Gong Wu while intangible and conjure a decent spell, to name a few examples. “So aside from you being awestruck at my beauty, what have you been doing?” Wuya asked.

Well, his favorite color was red, so he might have been a little awestruck. The fact that Wuya had a body as flaming hot as her hair was a big bonus. The question is: Did she know sign language?

‘Chaos.’

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redeyestakewxrning:

“Oh, my. I wish I could have had that many children,” Angela sighed.

Judson thought about Mime’s words for a moment before saying, “You all sound like you take care of yourselves very well…but what do you do for a living, Quentin?”

Oh. He had been so busy concentrating on making his family seem better than they actually are, that he had completely forgotten to focus on himself.

Oh well. Quentin smiled at them, his response to everything, as he thought of a... fancier way of saying it. ‘I am currently pursuing the performing arts. Would you care for a demonstration?’

💙💛 --lemimingitup [Why not both?]

@lemimingitup

Judson settled down onto a dining table chair beside his wife and mother of his only child, Angela. He was the picture of a stereotypical white businessman, though he lacked the balding head and potbelly. His hair was dark brown, he was six feet tall–the same height as his son–his skin was pasty, and his eyes were blue. Generic pencil-pushing CEO in a monkey suit.

Angela had more visual flair; orange-ginger deliberately curled hair, thick and lustrous. Her eyes were hazel, primarily green with flecks of brown scattered throughout her irises. Her skin had more color, as if sun-kissed. She wore a pretty blouse with a skirt and high heels.

“So,” she smiled, masking the way she was brutally scrutinizing the young Frenchman before her, “Quentin, how are things going between you and our son?”

Judson said nothing, waiting for Mime to respond.

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the-bovine-hero:

Maybe there’s something to be said about intimidation, because the mime was being clear now that he didn’t mean no harm to Patrick. The cowboy watched as he raised a finger and then reached into his pocket. He brought out a phone moments later and it was no surprise to him that the mime’s phone was monochrome.

An eyebrow rose when the mime flipped his phone around. He had a photo of Clay running toward the camera and he looked madder than a bull drenched in red paint. Patrick blinked a few times in shock, looking at the mime smiling at him and then to his phone.

“So that explains the grabbin’ then, ‘ya thought I was my big bro!” Patrick broke into a hearty laugh, setting the mime down seconds later. He wiped the tear from his eye and then crossed his arms. “Damn partner, fer a second there I was goin’ to chuck ‘ya into the river!” he grinned.

Le Mime grinned back at Patrick, glad that the situation was defused. If he had done that to Clay, he would have been in orbit by now. Actually... he might still grab the Dragon’s massive pecs, for science of course. He needed to compare the two now. Although if he had to judge right this second, the redhead would win.

Because, as always, he was a sucker for the reds. 

Now that everything was relatively calm, Le Mime plucked his bowler hat off his head and bowed to Patrick, a transcontinental way of greeting another person. 

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redeyestakewxrning:

A beat passed and the answer came.

[text]: Just…don’t do anything they’ll squint at you for. Then they’ll come at /me/ asking why I’m bothering with you and I’ll be forced to yell at their judgmental asses.

“What is your family like?” Judson inquired.

[text]: So don’t tell them that my father is a serial killer as is the rest of the family. Gotcha.  •ᴥ•

Now how to explain his family without revealing all the skeletons in the closet... ‘My family is fairly large, two older brothers and two older sisters. The eldest has a castle, the twins have a highly successful career, and my sister is currently discovering lost cities.’ Le Mime paused in thought, before also signing, ‘My mother, bless her soul, is not with us anymore. And my father is currently on a business trip.’ 

💙💛 --lemimingitup [Why not both?]

@lemimingitup

Judson settled down onto a dining table chair beside his wife and mother of his only child, Angela. He was the picture of a stereotypical white businessman, though he lacked the balding head and potbelly. His hair was dark brown, he was six feet tall–the same height as his son–his skin was pasty, and his eyes were blue. Generic pencil-pushing CEO in a monkey suit.

Angela had more visual flair; orange-ginger deliberately curled hair, thick and lustrous. Her eyes were hazel, primarily green with flecks of brown scattered throughout her irises. Her skin had more color, as if sun-kissed. She wore a pretty blouse with a skirt and high heels.

“So,” she smiled, masking the way she was brutally scrutinizing the young Frenchman before her, “Quentin, how are things going between you and our son?”

Judson said nothing, waiting for Mime to respond.

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technophiliac-game-changer:

Sayo sighs with content at the soft kisses to his cheeks. He really couldn’t be happier. He could feel that this was very important to Quentin… to share his name with Sayo. He could remember when he treasured his: Ayumu Saito, which was the only thing left for him by his birth parents.

He could never give it up. Sayo chuckles as Quentin squishes his cheeks.

“Yes, let’s go inside. It is cold, now that I think about it. Also, what would you do if someone saw me?” He asks, casually lifting Quentin into his arms and walking inside. “I’m curious.”

He happily wrapped his arms around Sayo’s neck as he was picked up, rubbing his white face paint all into the other’s said body part. Quentin paused from his nuzzling to consider the question. ‘I would... Shoot their eyes out and say they were blinded by your beautiful body.’ He nodded, satisfied with his answer.

Whether he would actually do that or not was entirely up for debate.

je t’aime

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To Le Mime, Paris was never confusing. Well it was when he first moved here, but he had soon gotten the hang of it. Heck, he had even explored the Catacombs plenty of times and always found his way back. Sometimes.

So when he spotted a cute foreign girl that looked confused about the ways of Paris (most likely, he could be wrong), his good nature compelled him to help. Well, that and Le Mime’s weakness for redheads, even if it was just a streak. Le Mime popped up in front of her and tipped his bowler hat.

@lemimingitup 

“Of all the places I’m told to go…Paris, why Paris?” Jamie muttered under her breath as she looked around at all the people walking around. There were others sitting at tables in front of cafes. This was still confusing to the Heylin Princess, was there really a wu here, or did she just get tricked to finally get out of the Citadel for once.

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redeyestakewxrning:

Angela beamed, actually meaning it this time. “Good, great! You seem very put-together. I suppose I should expect nothing less from someone who’s caught Jack’s interest.”

Judson found it in himself to nod, though he didn’t respond.

Quentin straightened out his shirt, taking it as an excuse to shoot off a quick text to Jack.

[text]: How far is too far concerning your parents?  (ᅌᴗᅌ* )

To said parental units, he smiled once more. ‘Is there anything you would like to know about me?’

💙💛 --lemimingitup [Why not both?]

@lemimingitup

Judson settled down onto a dining table chair beside his wife and mother of his only child, Angela. He was the picture of a stereotypical white businessman, though he lacked the balding head and potbelly. His hair was dark brown, he was six feet tall–the same height as his son–his skin was pasty, and his eyes were blue. Generic pencil-pushing CEO in a monkey suit.

Angela had more visual flair; orange-ginger deliberately curled hair, thick and lustrous. Her eyes were hazel, primarily green with flecks of brown scattered throughout her irises. Her skin had more color, as if sun-kissed. She wore a pretty blouse with a skirt and high heels.

“So,” she smiled, masking the way she was brutally scrutinizing the young Frenchman before her, “Quentin, how are things going between you and our son?”

Judson said nothing, waiting for Mime to respond.

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redeyestakewxrning:

Judson blinked slowly.

“World domination?” He echoed.

“Oh, honey, I think it’s just an inside joke between them,” Angela patted his arm. “But that’s good to hear, Quentin. All I’ve ever wanted was for my son to find love.”

‘Of course I do.’ He readily agreed. ‘I’m glad I could make that dream come true. My second goal in life, besides finding love, is to meet all of my future in-laws expectations and exceed them.’ Also known as ruining everything, absolutely everything.

Quentin wondered just what Jack’s reaction would be. Something hilarious, most likely.

💙💛 --lemimingitup [Why not both?]

@lemimingitup

Judson settled down onto a dining table chair beside his wife and mother of his only child, Angela. He was the picture of a stereotypical white businessman, though he lacked the balding head and potbelly. His hair was dark brown, he was six feet tall–the same height as his son–his skin was pasty, and his eyes were blue. Generic pencil-pushing CEO in a monkey suit.

Angela had more visual flair; orange-ginger deliberately curled hair, thick and lustrous. Her eyes were hazel, primarily green with flecks of brown scattered throughout her irises. Her skin had more color, as if sun-kissed. She wore a pretty blouse with a skirt and high heels.

“So,” she smiled, masking the way she was brutally scrutinizing the young Frenchman before her, “Quentin, how are things going between you and our son?”

Judson said nothing, waiting for Mime to respond.

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redeyestakewxrning:

Angela’s smile did not fall into a frown, to her credit, though her husband’s brows did furrow.

“Well, then, I’m going to talk,” he said, “Do you really have feelings for my son? Or are you interested in him only for his monetary value?”

‘I was interested in your son ever since I met him as a skinny white teenager planning world domination.’ Quentin happily signed. ‘I have absolutely no interest in his money.’

💙💛 --lemimingitup [Why not both?]

@lemimingitup

Judson settled down onto a dining table chair beside his wife and mother of his only child, Angela. He was the picture of a stereotypical white businessman, though he lacked the balding head and potbelly. His hair was dark brown, he was six feet tall–the same height as his son–his skin was pasty, and his eyes were blue. Generic pencil-pushing CEO in a monkey suit.

Angela had more visual flair; orange-ginger deliberately curled hair, thick and lustrous. Her eyes were hazel, primarily green with flecks of brown scattered throughout her irises. Her skin had more color, as if sun-kissed. She wore a pretty blouse with a skirt and high heels.

“So,” she smiled, masking the way she was brutally scrutinizing the young Frenchman before her, “Quentin, how are things going between you and our son?”

Judson said nothing, waiting for Mime to respond.