Delightful Mint

Selective indie RP blog for Mad Max: Fury Road. Mun and muse are 18+. I am one of Immortan Joe's wives. Called Mint by my mother, called Delight by the Immortan.

[mintthedelight]

KeeperOfAntiseeds: “Shh, there’s no need to scream.”

[continued from here]

Mint isn’t about to scream, but she must look like it by now. Her knuckles are white from clenching her fist, and suddenly she realizes she’s been biting her lip, her jaw tense.

What does she know about being bought? She thinks furiously.’You are not a thing,’ the Keeper tells her, but the words ring hollow inside her, too far from reality, too far from everything. There’s no point to knowing you’re not a thing if everyone is going to treat you like one anyway, everyone from your mother to your husband. 

“What would you do, given the chance to steer your own destiny?” the Keeper asks, and Mint looks at her, lost. Her mind drifts to dancing, to garages, but the images are foggy and intangible, so far from the dust and grit of the Wretched hovels. The Wretched may get the choice of who they root with, down in the dirt, but they are just as trapped as she was, as she is.

Mint swallows, forcing down the screams of rage bubbling in her throat. She looks at the Keeper cooly and says: “I would stay here. I would stay right here. Forever.”

[keeperofantiseeds]

Shaking her head, the Keeper’s eyes narrowed in disappointment. With cold finality in her voice, she scoffed at the girl, “Then I suppose there’s nothing left to teach you.” She didn’t expect the lesson to go over well - but it was a risk she was willing to take. After all, the Keeper was instructed to “wake her up.” if there was a chance that she could save the girl even a fraction of the heartbreak Joe had put Kalashnikov through, she’d have done her job. From her son, she gathered that Joe had a way of making someone feel elevated, irreplaceable, wanted. Som That’s how he drew them in. That’s how he set his trap. “I suppose memorizing vague lines of poetry is more your speed.“ She groaned, rolling her eyes. “I’ll leave that to your dear Miss Giddy.” 

Live at the Bullet Farm. Work with your hands. Learn a trade, The Keeper thought to herself, unless you like being a piece of meat.

As she turned to leave, she couldn’t bring herself to look back at the pretty young “thing.” “You want to stay here forever? Pray to whatever you believe in that a third strike does not befall you. And if you don’t pray, now would be a fine time to start.“

[mintthedelight]

Somehow, the Keeper’s condescending derision is even more infuriating than her earlier presumption. Mint feels a flare of anger as the woman takes a jab at her intelligence, her ability, her discernment. 

I’m just being sensible, Mint wants to say. You don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like!

She stays quiet, glaring back at the old woman who mocks her with freedom, choice. 

Those things don’t exist for her. They never have.

[mintthedelight]

The Joust

[Medievalish!AU with ximmortanjoex]

It comes as a surprise to both Mint and her mother when they are invited to the jousting tournament to be held in honor of the local lord’s birthday. They live on the outskirts of his borders and really aren’t much more than petty nobility, but the invitation comes nonetheless. 

“There’s going to be a lot of fine young knights there,” mother tells Mint. “I’m sure more than one will take notice of you.”

Mint has nothing to say to that. She only thinks of Sir Richard, and shrugs, leaving mother to make her plans.

–

The tourney is held in the broad fields outside the keep, which the locals simply call the Citadel. By the time Mint and her mother arrive, the whole green is covered with tents of many brilliant colors, flags with various sigils and crests flapping merrily in the breeze. There are crossed spears and daggers on fields of yellow, forests and fires on red backgrounds. The greatest, however, the one that catches her eye, is the great black flag with a red sigil: a fiery wheel with a dead man’s head in the center.

“Lord Joseph’s,” her mother tells her.

–

The next day is the great joust. Most of the competitions are Lord Joseph’s men against those of his allies. One young knight, an eager young man no older than Mint, approaches her and asks her to kiss his lance for good luck. Mint can’t help but blush; he has clear, kind blue eyes and a scar across the bridge of his nose that makes him look rather dashing. She winces when he’s nearly unhorsed, but cheers for him anyway. When he makes a clumsy victory, he blows her a kiss of gratitude.

For the first time in a long time, she finds herself having fun. The sun is on her back and her thick dark braids. She’d almost forgotten what it’s like to sit outside in the cool breeze and laugh and cheer.

–

“Lord Joseph’s been staring at you,” her mother whispers to her towards the middle of the afternoon.

“Hm?” Mint’s been too distracted, watching the heated fighting.

“There, look at him.”

She hasn’t really taken much notice of Lord Joseph where he sits in the stands across from them, too distracted by of the fighting in the lists, but now she looks, and she meets his eyes. They are cold and dark and she suddenly feels like she’s being weighed on a giant set of merchant’s scales.

Mint flinches, and immediately breaks eye contact, feeling her face light on fire. There’s nothing friendly about the way he’s looking at her, and now she can’t shake the horribly disconcerting weight of his gaze.

“Where is Lord Joseph’s lady wife?” she hears her mother asking.

“Gone,” someone responds. “No one knows where. That was the fifth, too. They say none can give him sons.”

Cold shivers creep up Mint’s spine, even in the broad light of the afternoon sun.

–

All of a sudden, a cheer goes up.

“Lord Joseph is going to compete!” Someone is shouting, and the excitement that follows is almost deafening.

Mint watches as he stands and raises his arms to receive the praise. He’s rather old to be doing such things, and the weight of old age has settled on him, but beneath that there’s still strength in his broad shoulders and thick arms.

I hope he falls off his horse, a mean little voice in her head says. The memory of his stare is still creeping over her skin.

[ximmortanjoex]

What perfect weather for tournaments, Joesph thinks as he gives a heavy wave of his hands to signify he has taken note of the rather elaborate announcement of his arrival: a man skilled with word and tone, listing off all his great achievements and what he has brought to their glorious country. With a grunt he takes his seat beneath canvas to block the sun from his pale flesh, away from the harmful rays of the sun. He is given wine and a plate of assorted foods, holding the goblet up, allowing the games to commence.

He loves to watch the knights compete for glory but he is rather disappointed with the recent changes to the rules. No long can the combatants land killing blows nor can they use their real weapons. Apparently too many were dying in the competitions and changes had to be made; changes that made Joesph scoff and declare his opinion on weakness to all. Yet, that never stopped his own knights from disobeying the code of conduct. They often fought with cruelty and without mercy; treating allies as enemies on the battlefield. However, no one dared challenge the integrity of the King and his men.

             — “Weak. These b o y s  should be stripped of their titles and return to squires. They hardly deserve the horse they sit upon,” he breathes angrily behind a large turkey leg before gnawing at it like a savage wolf as cold eyes continue to watch the tournament. His adviser is the the one who points out the fair maiden in the stands across from him; whispering her name and status, stating she could be a promising choice for a w i f e  and  m o t h e r. The king nearly chokes on his food.

Those arctic hues, devoid of warmth and any resemblance of a soul, remained fixated on this beautiful woman—no—girl. She looked so very young and the thought caused a groan to rumble behind his cage of bones. Youth meant fertility; it meant healthy. The mighty Lord Joesph snaps his fingers and tells his right-hand man he will compete.

A black steed, a magnificent Friesian to be exact, holds the weight of the hefty King as he makes his way onto the tournament grounds. His knights quickly salute their Lord, hands held high above their head and interlacing their fingers to create the image of clashing swords. With his helmet held against his side the older man guides his hellhorse to the stands where Lady Mint sits. Several other fair maidens either fear he will approach them or pray to the Gods above he will win it for them: there is no middle ground. The moment he pulls the reins on his horse named Giga, he holds out a large and armored hand for the girl to take; his gaze locked onto her fair face.

          — “A beauty so rare…,” he begins, an inhuman voice riddled with iron and steel. “ …that brings great grief to Aphrodite herself and weeps with jealousy. I will impress you with my skill — my valor, m’lady. Let me show you how a King defeats his enemies and let me show you how a King wins the heart of his newly beloved wife.”

[mintthedelight]

There’s quite a bit of excitement as the Lord goes to arm himself and heave himself up onto his huge black stallion. The horse is nearly twice the size of all the other horses on the field, and atop it, Joseph dwarfs all around him. His armor gleams dark in the bright sunshine, and his helm is in the shape of a death’s head like the one upon his banners. The sight of it sends shivers down Mint’s spine. She hates the look of it, with its oversized teeth.

The knights and squires snap to attention as soon as their Lord enters the lists, holding their arms above their heads with fingers interlacing in salute to their glorious king. Lord Joseph walks his horse slowly down the front of the front of the stands, the women alternately looking up at him in mixed fear and hope or looking away, as if praying he doesn’t notice them. Mint just stares at him, unable to look away. She can still feel his eyes on her, even through the great metal helm.

When he stops in front of her, she doesn’t feel any surprise. Just a dull understanding. She can feel a great wheel turning and clicking into place within her, and in calm realization, she thinks: this is it.

He leans towards her, extending his hand, covered in leather and metal. She’s frozen until her mother elbows her in the side, and then she remembers what she’s meant to do. She kisses his ring finger, curtsying.

Lord Joseph’s voice is almost inhuman, speaking through the metal of the mask. She’s too distracted, too dwarfed by him, to really listen to much of what he’s saying, until he tells her: “let me show you how a king wins the heart of his newly beloved wife.”

Wife.

She looks to her mother, whose mouth is open in shock. This wasn’t planned, then. This was unarranged. The King has simply decided, as simple as that. She is going to be the next girl to be taken to that three-towered castle, to share his bed in hopes of bearing young princes.

“Good fortune, my Lord,” she whispers, voice hoarse. She’s not sure what else to say to him, relying just on automatic responses now. What do you say to someone who’s just declared you his new wife? What do you do?

She breathes in deep when he rides off to the end of the lists, and sinks to the bench, hands clenched in her lap. Distantly, she’s aware of him riding towards his opponent, smashing the young Farmlands knight to the ground, beating him senseless to the cheers of the crowd.

Mint doesn’t have the strength to cheer. She can only see the end of the tourney drawing nearer, the end of the path now laid out clear as day before her where previously there had only been questions and mist.

[lannasroleplaymemes]

Destroy My Muse On Anon

[mintthedelight]

Provoke them, upset them, frighten them, make them cry! I want tears and regret and pain and just plain oodles of angst.

[rppromptdump-blog]

My muse wakes up in the middle of the night, only to find yours standing over them. Send ✯ for my muse’s reaction.

[dailymodels-blog]

[melaninmanda]

[thebeautymodel]

[thebeautymodel]

[mintthedelight]

The Joust

[Medievalish!AU with ximmortanjoex]

It comes as a surprise to both Mint and her mother when they are invited to the jousting tournament to be held in honor of the local lord’s birthday. They live on the outskirts of his borders and really aren’t much more than petty nobility, but the invitation comes nonetheless. 

“There’s going to be a lot of fine young knights there,” mother tells Mint. “I’m sure more than one will take notice of you.”

Mint has nothing to say to that. She only thinks of Sir Richard, and shrugs, leaving mother to make her plans.

--

The tourney is held in the broad fields outside the keep, which the locals simply call the Citadel. By the time Mint and her mother arrive, the whole green is covered with tents of many brilliant colors, flags with various sigils and crests flapping merrily in the breeze. There are crossed spears and daggers on fields of yellow, forests and fires on red backgrounds. The greatest, however, the one that catches her eye, is the great black flag with a red sigil: a fiery wheel with a dead man’s head in the center.

“Lord Joseph’s,” her mother tells her.

--

The next day is the great joust. Most of the competitions are Lord Joseph’s men against those of his allies. One young knight, an eager young man no older than Mint, approaches her and asks her to kiss his lance for good luck. Mint can’t help but blush; he has clear, kind blue eyes and a scar across the bridge of his nose that makes him look rather dashing. She winces when he’s nearly unhorsed, but cheers for him anyway. When he makes a clumsy victory, he blows her a kiss of gratitude.

For the first time in a long time, she finds herself having fun. The sun is on her back and her thick dark braids. She’d almost forgotten what it’s like to sit outside in the cool breeze and laugh and cheer.

--

“Lord Joseph’s been staring at you,” her mother whispers to her towards the middle of the afternoon.

“Hm?” Mint’s been too distracted, watching the heated fighting.

“There, look at him.”

She hasn’t really taken much notice of Lord Joseph where he sits in the stands across from them, too distracted by of the fighting in the lists, but now she looks, and she meets his eyes. They are cold and dark and she suddenly feels like she’s being weighed on a giant set of merchant’s scales.

Mint flinches, and immediately breaks eye contact, feeling her face light on fire. There’s nothing friendly about the way he’s looking at her, and now she can’t shake the horribly disconcerting weight of his gaze.

“Where is Lord Joseph’s lady wife?” she hears her mother asking.

“Gone,” someone responds. “No one knows where. That was the fifth, too. They say none can give him sons.”

Cold shivers creep up Mint’s spine, even in the broad light of the afternoon sun.

--

All of a sudden, a cheer goes up.

“Lord Joseph is going to compete!” Someone is shouting, and the excitement that follows is almost deafening.

Mint watches as he stands and raises his arms to receive the praise. He’s rather old to be doing such things, and the weight of old age has settled on him, but beneath that there’s still strength in his broad shoulders and thick arms.

I hope he falls off his horse, a mean little voice in her head says. The memory of his stare is still creeping over her skin.

[mintthedelight]

KeeperOfAntiseeds: “Shh, there’s no need to scream.”

[continued from here]

Mint isn’t about to scream, but she must look like it by now. Her knuckles are white from clenching her fist, and suddenly she realizes she’s been biting her lip, her jaw tense.

What does she know about being bought? She thinks furiously.’You are not a thing,’ the Keeper tells her, but the words ring hollow inside her, too far from reality, too far from everything. There’s no point to knowing you’re not a thing if everyone is going to treat you like one anyway, everyone from your mother to your husband. 

“What would you do, given the chance to steer your own destiny?” the Keeper asks, and Mint looks at her, lost. Her mind drifts to dancing, to garages, but the images are foggy and intangible, so far from the dust and grit of the Wretched hovels. The Wretched may get the choice of who they root with, down in the dirt, but they are just as trapped as she was, as she is.

Mint swallows, forcing down the screams of rage bubbling in her throat. She looks at the Keeper cooly and says: “I would stay here. I would stay right here. Forever.”

[mintthedelight]

KeeperofAntiseeds: Headcanon + McFeasting

An earthly McFeast is held once a year, in mid-August. The Immortan says it is but a foretaste of the joys to be held in Valhalla. The War Boys all get extra rations, plus a small piece of fruit. The Immortan himself dines in the afternoon with his sons and Imperators (as well as his honored guests from the Bullet Farm and Gastown), at a table so laden with food that it creaks on its legs. The Citadel larders have a special store of food set aside for this occasion. It takes an entire year to save up the amount required.

In the evening, there is another, smaller dinner - though still quite plentiful by Wasteland standards - in the privacy of the vault, with just the Immortan and his wives. 

This small dinner he calls his birthday party.

[bandfullofmuses]

Put one of these in my ask box! (Kidnapped!)

[mintthedelight]

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You’re not going anywhere.”

“You belong to me now.”

“There, nice and tight.”

“Shh, there’s no need to scream.”

“There, that should keep you quiet.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Let me go!”

“Release me!”

“Help me!”

“Untie me!”

“Mmmph!”

“How are we supposed to get out of this?”

“Someone will come for me!”

[mintthedelight]

KeeperofAntiseeds: Why was that animate sack of ballsweat so intent on educating people he kept locked in a glorified terrarium? Upon entering the vault, the Keeper dropped a stack of dusty old books with a resounding thud. "Girls, wake up!" She boomed. "Your dear old Miss Giddy threw her back out, and can't be bothered to teach you your arses from your elbows today. That means I'm stuck with you ladies, and you ladies are stuck with me."

It’s early morning when the old woman enters, and Mint is still curled ip in bed, trying to ignore the dawn-light pouring in on her. She doesn’t notice the creak of the vault door swinging open, but the slam and the harsh voice that follows shake her awake. She sits up, rubbing at her eyes, her hair tangled with sleep.

“Who…?”

[keeperofantiseeds]

Mint shrugs at that. “He likes for us to recite it to him. Says it does him good to listen to pretty voices saying pretty things.” It doesn’t matter that Mint can hardly make head nor tail of the pretty things, apparently. She’s only barely able to read the words on the page; their significance utterly escapes her. It makes him happy, though, and that’s what he cares about.

Miss Giddy has been doing her best to help Mint understand what the words mean, but it doesn’t seem to do much good. She’d rather be learning useful things, the kind of things her mom and Old Rick used to teach her. Fixing tools, tinkering with engines, how to mend and build. Those things, the things she ca touch - those are the things that make sense. Not she walks in beauty and all that noise that the Immortan loves for her to memorize.

(Despite all that, it’s still rewarding to see the gleam of pride in his eyes when she recites to him.)

“Well then,” She said with a hint of indignation, “if little Joey brought me here to teach you, then that’s exactly what I’ll do. And I’ll teach you something our dear Miss Giddy may have neglected.” Scanning the girl’s flawless young face for any sign of emotion, the wizened old bullet-clad crone continued, “It’s something I wish someone had taught my son. Wordburger, dear girl: Joe doesn’t love.” The Keeper’s eyes narrowed. “You can be the finest fuku-damn armorer to ever walk the earth. Or you can be sweetest, kindest woman he’ll ever meet. Any living being he comes in contact with is merely a tool in his eyes, to be used until it unceremoniously breaks.” Still spitting venom, she continued, “And then it’s tossed aside to rot.“

Placing a wiry, tentative hand on Mint’s arm, she whispered with softened eyes, “These hands, this voice, this mind… They’re capable of so much. So much more than gratifying that man.”

“If you love someone - especially in this hell of a world - you teach them to survive. It’s what I taught my little one, above all else.“ Upon speaking those words, her intensity waned. As her wrinkled eyes fell away from her student, she mumbled, “Even if there were times it hurt us both.“

[mintthedelight]

[snipped for length]

Mint backs up as the old woman comes forward, flinching away when she touches her arm. In the Keeper’s face she sees her mother, in the words she hears mom’s voice (”Rick doesn’t love you. Rick has never loved you. You’re just pussy to him. He’ll drop you as soon as something better comes along, just like every man.”) and it makes her stomach churn.

Joe is different from Rick, part of her whispers, desperate. Joe treats me special. He says he loves me. He says I’m his treasure. He takes care of me. She can’t remember the last time she felt the dry dust of thirst on her tongue, or the gnawing of hunger at the walls of a hollow stomach.

“I know how to survive,” she snaps. “I was out there for all my life until he bought me. He lifted me up. He rescued me.”

As she says the words, another small part of her listens to the Keeper and hears truth. Truth, searing and horrible and stark as the desert.

[sephiramy]

Art Challenge: 30 Important Expressions

Draw ‘em all, or have someone send you a character and a number… it’s your wonderland, Alice. Reblog, add your own. Have a good time.

hasn’t slept in 48 hours

tasted something gross

in a long, slow line at the DMV

listening to blind date talk about their ex

reading YouTube comments

favorite song just came on

song they hate just came on

had their favorite show spoiled

just fell in love (a.k.a. “Dreamweaver face”)

saw a wasp

had a fist fight (they won)

had a fist fight (they lost)

food coma

hello darkness, my old friend

“was that Batman?”

forgot what they were about to say

“oh no, they’re hot…”

their best friend’s cooking is not as good as they think

brainfreeze!

texted the wrong person

check out this box of kittens/puppies/bunnies/ducklings/whatever’s cutest to them!

their favorite TV show character dies

having an increasingly awkward conversation with Bob of Modus Operandi

parent/guardian is showing their baby pictures

stepped on a Lego

stepped on an Eggo… you know… the waffle

102 degrees indoors and there’s no A/C

watching the end of The Iron Giant… or maybe the opening to Up… or w-when Shadow is stuck in Homeward Bound…??

woken up out of a dead sleep

nailed it.

(some suggestions were lovingly crowd-sourced from kayzig samwisedamgee marianascosta geekysideburns briandanielwolf sarahfu and indigoats.com!)

[wallabri]

these are INCREDIBLE

[mintthedelight]

listen: DONT imagine yr muse using a vibrator for the first time. 

[mintthedelight]

After (closed rp)

Mint feels her husband stir beside her, and the movement shakes her from sleep.

It’s been a long time since Joe last took her. He barely touched her in the height of her pregnancy, and then, later, the Mechanic insisted Joe give her some time to recover if she was to be of any use.

Whether or not she’ll be of use anyway…well, that’s looking more doubtful now that the pregnancy is over.

She has to wonder if there’s some kind of poison in her veins that caused it to end so abruptly. One day there was kicking, the next day there wasn’t, and then it was just …over. The baby was gone from her body as suddenly as it had arrived.

She’s still not used to the emptiness, and now there’s soreness to accompany it. Joe seems undaunted by the first failure, determined to try again as quickly as possible.

[askimmortanjoe]

Joe’s eyes flutter open in the darkness, he’s having trouble sleeping, and he suspects His Delight knows it. He’d never tell anyone that he’s hurting, the Immortan is beyond such mortal triviality. At least that’s what he’s telling himself. It doesn’t help. Suppressing a sigh, he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

[mintthedelight]

When he sits up fully, she no longer sees any point to trying to go back to sleep. Normally he sleeps heavily after being with her. Waking up in the middle of the night…it’s not like him. Either he wants her again, or he’s about to send her away…unless it’s something else. The Immortan has never been very emotional in front of her, but she’s seen the heaviness in his eyes.

Mint rolls over and peers at him through the darkness. “You’re awake,” she murmurs simply. She’s not sure what to say. Hesitant, she reaches out, laying a soft hand on his arm.

[askimmortanjoe]

He shrugs off her arm, not bothering to reply. He doesn’t owe her an explanation. He just wants to sleep, but his dreams are filled with blood and the screams of children he’s never known. Goddamn it, he thinks to himself. He’s never once considered that the problem lies within him. He’s the Redeemer, the Immortan, he’s perfect. He carries his devoted War Boys to the highways of Valhalla. And yet… Doubt creeps in, before he can destroy it completely it takes root, making him feel sick to his portly stomach. Angry at himself, he turns to face Mint, barely able to see her, he presses his mouth to hers roughly, hand tangled in her hair.

[mintthedelight]

She's not surprised when he shakes off her hand. Her husband has never been the type of man to open up to tenderness. She doesn’t bother with hurt feelings; there’s no point to letting herself be hurt by Joe's actions anymore than taking offense at a sandstorm or an earthquake.

He sits for a moment, silent. She can barely see his large form through the darkness of the room. When he grabs her and kisses her, she submits to it automatically, opening her mouth for him. Even so, she reaches up to cup his face in her hands. Something in her hungers for some kind of tenderness in all this, even though she knows it's unlikely. He's the hole in the desert that finally swallowed her up, just as he's devoured everyone and everything else in his insatiable greed.

[mintthedelight]

After (closed rp)

Mint feels her husband stir beside her, and the movement shakes her from sleep.

It’s been a long time since Joe last took her. He barely touched her in the height of her pregnancy, and then, later, the Mechanic insisted Joe give her some time to recover if she was to be of any use.

Whether or not she’ll be of use anyway…well, that’s looking more doubtful now that the pregnancy is over.

She has to wonder if there’s some kind of poison in her veins that caused it to end so abruptly. One day there was kicking, the next day there wasn’t, and then it was just …over. The baby was gone from her body as suddenly as it had arrived.

She’s still not used to the emptiness, and now there’s soreness to accompany it. Joe seems undaunted by the first failure, determined to try again as quickly as possible.

[askimmortanjoe]

Joe’s eyes flutter open in the darkness, he’s having trouble sleeping, and he suspects His Delight knows it. He’d never tell anyone that he’s hurting, the Immortan is beyond such mortal triviality. At least that’s what he’s telling himself. It doesn’t help. Suppressing a sigh, he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

[mintthedelight]

When he sits up fully, she no longer sees any point to trying to go back to sleep. Normally he sleeps heavily after being with her. Waking up in the middle of the night...it's not like him. Either he wants her again, or he's about to send her away...unless it's something else. The Immortan has never been very emotional in front of her, but she's seen the heaviness in his eyes.

Mint rolls over and peers at him through the darkness. "You're awake," she murmurs simply. She's not sure what to say. Hesitant, she reaches out, laying a soft hand on his arm.