what’s a small writing quirk you have that no one would notice unless you told them?

have you ever accidentally given a muse a trait from yourself without realizing it?

what’s the weirdest real-life inspiration you’ve ever used for a muse or scene?

do you write your drafts in order or jump around?

what’s a song you’ve overplayed while writing but still love?

what’s your “comfort trope” that you always fall back on?

do you ever write replies in your head while away from your device?

what’s a piece of advice you’d give to your past self as a roleplayer?

what’s the most unhinged late-night idea you’ve ever actually written?

do you have a go-to “warm up” activity before writing?

what’s your biggest muse-killer?

have you ever completely rewritten a reply before posting it?

do you tend to write long or short replies without thinking about it?

what’s a detail you always try to slip into your writing?

do you prefer writing in silence or with background noise?

what’s the most emotionally intense thread you’ve ever written?

do you keep old drafts/threads or delete them?

what’s your weirdest ritual for getting into the zone?

have you ever made a playlist for a single scene?

what’s the most surprising compliment you’ve gotten about your writing?

do you have a muse you’ve never shown publicly?

what’s a piece of media that permanently changed how you write?

do you keep “secret” headcanons just for yourself?

have you ever written a reply you didn’t like but posted anyway?

Mouthy old cunt, still gagging for it 70s style 😌

Full: [1] [2] [3] [4] | Bsky

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arun & danny playing together

“But don’t you ever feel the urge to speak to strangers?” she asked. “To ask them about their lives?

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⸸ཀ(a convincing performance encourages participation. Lestat smiles when Daniel's palms shove him upon a cool surface that nips at his spine. Arching up his lower back to adjust, Lestat grins at the other man, offering a longing exhale that invites an exploratory approach. Lestat is an open book in every regard. At this moment, he is not wearing much of a promising outfit, shedding layers of suits in his past in favor of leather, ripped lace, and straps that barely hold onto everything. He does not leave anything to the imagination, but rather teases fantasy. To touch him is an honor Icarus wished he had. Lestat reels, relishing the thumping excitement that quickens an immortal heartbeat, paired with an outstanding aroma of anticipation. He surrenders freely, amused by Daniel's fervor.

Lifting himself upon his elbows, Lestat tilts his head to the side, looking up at his looming counterpart. He smirks and nods, reaching over to glide his sharp fingertips over his abdomen, teasing the sight of pale skin traced by a weapon. Then, complying with the lightest pressure, Lestat draws a thin line of burgundy bubbling from the drawn seam on his stomach, inviting Daniel to continue through the motions. Through his heavy eyelashes, he mutters:

"Taste me."

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an invitation he couldn't fathom denying, daniel's breath hitched as if the sight lodged into the lungs itself. anticipation pricked the back of his neck as lestat spread out before him, lace and leather stretching to reveal honeyed skin flushed from blood. from daniel's blood. the vampire was the vision of temptation itself, an addict's wet dream. blood pooled from lestat's wound like spilled paint, marble flesh made soft under nails that could deliver death in a quick twist of a wrist. he knew lioncourt to be theatrical in his killing, and it only prompted the question: how would he kill daniel? "you're a bad influence," but his lips curled nonetheless. between louis stood at the side, refusing to partake, and armand chastising him for playing with his life, lestat was who daniel ran to indulge. "thank god."

his mouth watered, so much so he's forced to swallow twice. it was impossible to distinguish his hunger for blood and for the ensuing high, but molloy's palms closed around lestat's thighs as he let the blood settle into the light dip of his navel. with a roused tremble to his movement, daniel dusted coke against his pressed hand, just as lestat did, which he bumped first. a sharp prick of pleasure burned through his nose on his strong inhale, bursting into his head. into pure fuckin' euphoria.

chasing, his hands squeezed the leather thighs and dropped his tongue to drag up the wound. there's enough of the blood to savor, to spread along his lips and chin, daniel sucking against the split flesh with a greedy need. a shuddered breath escaped when the skin parted to make room for the appendage and he dug deeper, tasting lestat raw, iron-pungent and vampire sweet.

"you gonna clean me up?" he asked when the wound inevitably closed, preternatural healing beyond his comprehension. daniel smirked as he leaned over lestat, their hips flush. he didn't wait for an answer before he leaned down, offering a bloody kiss.