#multimuseonline

⚔️ @multimuse-online liked for a starter from Nemesis for Kasumi! ⚔️

It’s a bit early to be hearing the sound of clattering and metalwork in the shop, isn’t it? A backdoor is busted dented, barely clinging to its loose hinges, as though something heavy was thrown into it. The sound of tools and mechanics clattering the ground as something crashes into them is painfully obvious. If one weren’t aware, it could easily be assumed that a hurricane was rippling through the shop. But arguably, there’s something much worse.

The Tyrant didn’t think too much about just where he was breaking into. Only that he was entering a building to hide, catch his breath, and hopefully find something to sustain himself. But it’s dark, and his eyesight is already bad enough. Adding to that his size and it’s no wonder everything is ending up on the floor when he’s bumping into things and swinging his limbs in a wild, dazed frenzy.

After what feels like hours of agonizing blindly in the darkness, he finds a wall to lean against and slowly slide down. A giant hand rests on the damage mechanical heart welded into his chest, breathing trying to level itself as magenta blood with a oil-like sheen to it seeps out of the system and onto the floor, puddling under him. He’s exhausted, he’s confused, and he’s bleeding out. But he feels safe for now.

The sound of the fabric ripping was loud in his ears, blood rushing south as he fought to keep up with Killian; the growls and sharp bites drawing soft keening noises from his lips. His skin had quickly grown flustered, pupils blown enough to completely cover the brown of his eyes as his hands pressed against Killian’s sides, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Killian--!”

A sharp cry followed the unasked question, his hips grinding up to meet Killian’s in a frantic rush to seek for release; he had never gotten so hard so fast in his entire life. There was nothing slow or searching in the Pixi’s movement, as if he had been completely taken over by the instinct to claim, to feel good. The Pixi acted more like an animal than he’d ever seen before, and the dwarf clung on with his dear life.

His other hand clutched at Killian’s waist, guiding his movements as he pressed the two of them closer, feeling their cocks brush against each other with every grind. He was already feeling overheated, his skin glistening as he panted against Killian’s lips, meeting each heated kiss with a desperate sound. He was helpless against the pleasure; it wasn’t the first time they had played around with each others like this, but it definitely was the first time Killian dove right into the pleasurable part.

Already he could feel the fabric between them grow wetter and the knowledge of how desperate they both were felt like a punch in his gut, making Kili’s vision white for a short moment. Not sure what he wanted other than more, the dwarf tugged at Killian’s clothes, seeking for more contact, more of everything.

The seemingly fragile woman wasn’t the only one deep in thought. Like her, he felt a tug of familiarity. He felt immense guilt at first, having assumed this wasn’t their first encounter. Normally, Sanji was brilliant at remembering the names and faces of the women he encountered. Forgetting one, letting her face blend in with the rest, made him feel scummy. Except that he couldn’t truly believe for one second that he would forget her face.

He didn’t meet many women with white hair, and he knew he would have remembered if he had.

At her thanks, Sanji felt a flutter in his chest. His own thoughtful expression vanished in a heartbeat and was replaced with a soft, genuine smile. 

@multimuse-online: James Clayton

“Oh, brilliant!” the Doctor said, sticking her head out the TARDIS door and grinning widely, “We’ve landed at a circus.“ Stepping out onto the grass, she stared up at the brightly colored tent, with bright-eyed enthusiasm. “D’you know?“ she said, glancing back at her friends, “Nearly every culture in the galaxy has their version of a circus. Shall we get the VIP tour?”

“ please , let me listen to celine dion in the dark in peace. “ 

He had a coke - okay, a gallon of coke, but it had been that kind of night - and a box of pizza in his arms.

There weren’t many things that could catch the wizards tongue in a way to silence the arsenal of quips he retained always at the forefront of his mind. No, he was fully prepared and absolutely willing to launch them at will. He’d curled the toes of the angels with ratchet considerations, made the Knights of the Cross reach to pinch at that fleshy flab of skin between their eyes until tears surfaced. As though bringing to them a touch of physical earthly pain would remove the irritation he inspired by simply breathing! Or so one might imagine. 

As clever as he thought he was, there were things in the world that could capture his interest enough to bring his feet crashing back down to the ground, leaving him in a momentary silence.

Apparently, a depressive episode under the hypnotic spell of a Celine Dion melody was one of those things.

His eyes shifted from left. To right. Taking in what he could of the surroundings. He wasn’t not a highly suspicious man.

... that was lie.

He was infinitely suspicious of the world and everything in it. Especially when the world deposited an unknown at his doorstep.

.... that was never good. Rarely beneficial to him or his wellbeing. Especially his wellbeing. 

His eyes fell back to settle on the figure huddled on his stoop. Whether intentionally or not, he’d chosen a hell of a place to give into the throes of the world, to allow the burdens of circumstance to press so heavily against his shoulders that he couldn’t help but open himself up to them.

The smell of his pizza wafted up to his nostrils and he took a deep, gratifying whiff. .... could he not just.... could he not just sit and eat in peace? Celine Dion aside, pizza and coke did wanders for the soul, too. Everyone should try it.

He puffed out a breath, fringe ruffled with the current he stirred. 

He did not approach the unknown, however. 

“.... huh. What do you say when Celine Dion falls into the toilet?

Porcelain Dion

That’s one variation. Another, not equal in hilarity, but still quite clever is:

Celine in-de-John.

Cause she fell in a toilet.” He blinked. He spoke so matter-of-factly, it was almost as though he was debating critical features of the moment rather than spouting off some random drivel. Which was sometimes equally as successful in those cases.

Maybe the thing would get the hint and wander off. Think he was a psycho.

Wasn’t he?

@multimuse-online     Here

Cole blinked slowly at the little girl. Well, real or not, she was certainly a brave one to approach a stranger like this, but it wasn’t like he was going to do anything to her.

Deciding to attempt playfulness, he removed his hat and pressed it against his chest, giving a dramatic and awkward bow, “My Lady, welcome. My name is Cole.”