âDonât be such a--â he just looks at Duke. âDid you just say relationship?â
@musecollector [X]
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âDonât be such a--â he just looks at Duke. âDid you just say relationship?â
@musecollector [X]

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@musecollector liked for a BROOKLYN 99 based starter for Eggsy! Â
â Here are two pictures. One is your locker. The other is a garbage dump in the Philippines. Can you tell which is which? â
â youâre not welcome here! go be godâs gift to some other woman! â ( to Lucifer from max bc it's hilarious )
    prompt.  from a very long ,  long time ago .   @musecollector
      â i rather think dad regrets gifting humanity with my presence , made a whole religion off that , didnât he ?  now , i do apologize for that , itâs in my nature.  but i really do have some questions for you that need answering. â
â the difference between us is one of degree, not category. â [ for chronos from samael ]
âoh, of course. naturally.â features remain relatively indifferent save the tiniest trace of amusement that is ever present on the godâs face. âbut i would correct only this -- itâs a difference of a number of degrees.â arms cross, head tilting almost imperceptibly. âyou imagine yourself powerful -- you are but a child compare to me.â
âI canât move, itâs going to leak all over my legs.â [ from max, if you like ]
abo.   //   @musecollector
     oliver let out something of a breathless laugh at maxâs words. a sense of pride following him after that. she was a right proper mess with the way he had filled her so completely. a small smile upon his lips, glancing up at her, still so on top of him. âaye, i think that is the point, love.â or his point. hardly the one who would mind the vision of him dripping down her legs, knowing that he was the reason for such a mess. he found himself flipping them so she was on her back beneath him. âproblem solved.â not entirely as the moment he pulled out of her she was going to make a mess regardless. perhaps just not the bigger mess. lips brushed against her own as he found the situation more amusing. âit just means youâve been properly fucked, which i think you have.âÂ

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reversed [ enough ] your muse commanding mine to stop talking . ( for belial from max )
Belial has always been one to believe that âWords speak louder than actionsâ. Heâs often heinously withdrawn when it comes to acts of physicality; at least when they can be avoided with a few choice words. Today however he chose both. Last night had been heavy and the demon was less than keen on any noise as he nursed his bloody Mary. He was also a strong believer that the hair of the dog that bit you was the greatest cure. The woman had done nothing wrong by any means, she had sat down and began chirping away on her phone as any other would at this reasonable time of the morning. He however - was strongly against the notion. He tried to fight the urge. Shutting his eyes and thinking of happier times but he couldnât. He could have moved away but he really wasnât that kind of person. No, instead he reaches for the phone and plucks it from her grasp, and drops it into the jug of water in front of them. When she tries to speak in protest his index finger comes to his lips. Eyes still closed he shusshes gently, moving the hand away from his mouth and pressing the finger gently against her lips. âStop. Just stop. Itâs far too early.âÂ
         lips  curved  down  in  a  frown  /  brown  eyes  darker  than  usual  âso you  hunt  things.â  words  are  quiet,  rare  she  feels  this  unsure  about  what  sheâs  saying.  usually  blunt  but  she  over - thinks  her  words  now  âhow  do  you  know  all  of  them  are  BAD ?  what  if  itâs  a  mistake  &  theyâre  innocent.â   / s.c, @musecollector
(( @musecollector  †âd for child!verse Mahia : for the Doctor ))
An unfamiliar sound tore the child from restless sleep. Followed by... footsteps? Too heavy, too deliberate to be some sort of animal wandering past. And it was in a flurry of frantic movement that she bolted upright and snatched the bow and quiver from where they lay beside her makeshift bed of leaves. One arrow was notched onto the string with practiced speed, drawing it quickly back.   â Who... who is th-there? â   Ancestors curse how her voice shook in that moment.   â I... I am armed. â