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taylor price
Kiana Khansmith
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ojovivo
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Claire Keane
NASA
Jules of Nature
Misplaced Lens Cap
todays bird
titsay
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we're not kids anymore.
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
One Nice Bug Per Day
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@pulitzer0rtwo
⠀⩨ PULITZER0RTWO ៸៸ ⿻⁎ an independent / selective / canon-divergent portrayal of daniel molloy from anne rice’s vampire chronicles & amc’s interview with the vampire ——— indulged in by theo.
writer is over twenty-one. triggering themes / nsfw / substance abuse / blood / gore / dead dove content.
minors do not interact.
I’m sick and tired of found families we need more found toxic workplace environments
btw i have never felt this kind of glee in all my long life
he huffs — and the sound curls pale and creamy in the air , breathy like cigarette smoke , fogging pale and sudden before disappearing . not such an early spring , but it'll be a cold year .
" okay , dr. frankenstein . " little nudge , smiling to himself . catching the shape of armand's mouth in the streetlight , pouty and soft . makes him want to grab them by the chin , and — mwah ! " dr. frank n. furter . those boots suck , boss , i'm sorry , but they do . I could never really break them in . you should wear 'em a bunch for me , and give them back when they're soft . "
the city hums gently , neon shivering in the storefront's wet glass . he leans over , presses a kiss to the side of their skull . mouthful of curls . his lips never even reach skin . just killing time in yokohama before they take the train to kawasagi for the kanamara matsuri , & nothing much to do besides walk around , now , no deadline . he likes it when they reach this point in their travels , when armand's animosity and urgency to see every touristy attraction mellows down to human - friendly levels . sleeping late and enjoying the hotel amenities , making love all afternoon , searching for restaurants where the locals dine before going back up to their room and — you've guessed it .
" what are you in the mood for , baby ? think you could have some more fish ? I'll eat with you . " he says , the smell of soy and oil and fermented somethings drifting from the next block . quaint , busy little place , lit up with red paper lanterns . " don't gulp anything down if you're not absolutely sure , though . "
“peace, you absolute goose. that would make you the creature.”
which is, of course, quite rich coming from the one of them who happens to actually be some strain of historically-othered creature. the vampire’s long fingers flex against the bitter cold then curl around the pleasant little ball of the boy’s elbow. a well-timed & good-natured tug brings daniel’s frame closer still. he smells good, like sweat from sleep & the lingering whiff of camel cigarettes.
“no.” succinctly spoken, not up for debate. “fine. donate them to the poor and be damned, for all it matters to me.” & daniel ought to know that isn’t remotely true. that’s probably why, armand reckons, he cranes his neck in close and kisses into the vampire’s hair in this way, edging around the natural impulse to continue to make an ass of himself. and armand sighs hard, small mouth stretching into a calm little smile despite himself. so what, daniel won’t wear those expensive boots (which means he’d also lied about liking them in the first place), and so what, daniel couldn’t have been troubled to dress for the weather today, and now it is armand’s bloody problem, et cetera, et cetera. privately he thinks, what good bloody problems to have, anyway.
little shrug, instinctively burrowing. exposing a flash of golden brown throat when he whips a tuft of black curl over his shoulder with the back of one hand; it falls over his woolen scarf in delicate, sleet-damp coils. little curly black eels. oh, he’s thinking, now. amber eyes widen & go glossy with the thrill of determination. “unagi,” he says at once, “raw. you know the blood is toxic? that’s why you don’t see it prepared sashimi-style very often. let’s go and see if we can find someplace that does it the right way. . . . don’t look at me that way, you don’t have to eat any of it.”
" but , I relate to the fella' ! I do ! you love to experiment on me ! " he guffaws , tripping down the rain - slick asphalt as he guides them across the street , smiling ear to ear . " now , i'm not gonna say half the time I don't enjoy it , but you keep ordering me shiokara and i'll have to change my mind on the subject . "
he spots a homey looking little restaurant a few miles away , electric blue neon buzzing by it's door — and thinks promptly of cozying up at a merry , walking distance from the hotel to have a fragrant bowl of ramen . ah , but his little pet freak craves something more debauched yet , something with a more complex bouquet in matters of poison , and his face twists up in immediate , skeptic disgust .
" that cannot be good for you . the toxins could — what if they give you a tummy ache ? huh ? you can't even digest rice , and you wanna eat poisonous eel . "
but the look on his face has already begun to betray him — that inevitable crack in the facade , the twitch at the corners of his mouth that means he’s losing the argument to sweet , all - promising curiosity , and affection , and a general feeling of ' oh , fuck it , what the hell , whatever you want ' .
" ugh . mm , fine . we'll find somewhere like that . "
how easy , when all is so foreign , to dive into their very own otherness . to wear it as a cloak . and , all of a sudden , the questioning gazes and the whispered tidbits of machismo - fueled old school disdain mean nothing at all . literally . he wouldn't know , since he doesn't speak the language , and these middle aged men's disapproval — even if obvious — towards his choice in lifelong companion brings him no true heartache ; because they don't remind him of his father. hand entwining with theirs , briefly , and lifting it to his mouth for a long , self-indulgent kiss . he does this when he wants , most of all , to smell them — the rich , sweet scent of their pampered palms . bergamot handcream , too , complimentary of the hotel .
" i'm really craving some dessert , too . real dessert . mochi isn't dessert — the texture bothers me ! "
fledgeling's night out (someone get this man his keys !! )
insta • twt • prints
@molloyed
someone put me down
I’ll do it. We’ll be in hell together after all.
something in the air shifted
insta • twt • bsky • prints up on april 1!
@pulitzer0rtwo / continued from here.
most of it is for show, anyway, all the fussing: the slick of saliva on the tip of a finger to pat down that one stubborn curl on the top of daniel’s head that will not stay flat no matter what, or perhaps the incessant swiping at daniel’s wrinkly button-downs when he again couldn’t have been bothered to drag out the ironing board before leaving the house. obnoxious little gestures all meticulously designed to make the boy feel looked after, kept. but the vampire would be fibbing if they were to insist that it hasn’t begun to feel perfectly natural.
“your toes?” echoing him, brow furrowed as one arm slinks into the familiar space between daniel’s elbow & his side. daniel’s left armand in little more than a thin black turtleneck sweater; will he require their socks, now, too? “i think you were in these boots the first night we met. ye gods, daniel, you insult my generosity! what about that fine pair i bought you in milan, the shearling ones? you left them in new york, didn’t you?” a beat passes, armand sighs. he shuffles nearer to the boy, with no real hope of warming him. “i’ll stitch your nose back on, then. come on, walk. i thought you wanted to explore.”
he huffs — and the sound curls pale and creamy in the air , breathy like cigarette smoke , fogging pale and sudden before disappearing . not such an early spring , but it'll be a cold year .
" okay , dr. frankenstein . " little nudge , smiling to himself . catching the shape of armand's mouth in the streetlight , pouty and soft . makes him want to grab them by the chin , and — mwah ! " dr. frank n. furter . those boots suck , boss , i'm sorry , but they do . I could never really break them in . you should wear 'em a bunch for me , and give them back when they're soft . "
the city hums gently , neon shivering in the storefront's wet glass . he leans over , presses a kiss to the side of their skull . mouthful of curls . his lips never even reach skin . just killing time in yokohama before they take the train to kawasagi for the kanamara matsuri , & nothing much to do besides walk around , now , no deadline . he likes it when they reach this point in their travels , when armand's animosity and urgency to see every touristy attraction mellows down to human - friendly levels . sleeping late and enjoying the hotel amenities , making love all afternoon , searching for restaurants where the locals dine before going back up to their room and — you've guessed it .
" what are you in the mood for , baby ? think you could have some more fish ? I'll eat with you . " he says , the smell of soy and oil and fermented somethings drifting from the next block . quaint , busy little place , lit up with red paper lanterns . " don't gulp anything down if you're not absolutely sure , though . "
fledgeling's night out (someone get this man his keys !! )
insta • twt • prints
@molloyed
depeche mode actually wrote every single song about devils minion (fun and 100% true #notfake fact)
gimme your jacket , i'm freezing .
“you’re joking.” at least half an hour was spent back in the room nagging daniel, reminding him, switching the television on so that the omniscient meteorologist might ideally whack a bit of sense into the boy where the vampire could not. alas. armand’s brows lift in an emphatic parody of astonishment, amber eyes sweeping daniel from collar to ratty cuff as though his very-human forgetfulness were a mortal sin. “you, a reporter of such ruthless foresight, have forgotten your coat?” & a soft, theatrical sigh unfurls from him, “ . . . again?” but it doesn’t matter, never does. the vampire slips the jacket (schott, cowhide, teacore patina) from their own narrow shoulders at once. no real hesitation, only a slow, deliberate divestment, like offering up a relic at daniel’s poor, neglected altar. they settle it with unique tenderness around daniel’s frame with cool & witchy hands, smoothing the floppy, well-worn lapels flat against the boy’s chest. “there.” the beast warmly murmurs, sucking his teeth. almost prim, maternal as ever. the faint curl of his mouth betrays this carefully performed vexation. “go on, then, wear it like you mean it. i’ve survived this many winters without it; i imagine i’ll have no problem suffering the consequences of your precious nescience this time.”
does he look like he's joking ?! the boy's eyes start to roll back before armand's little ' i told you so , you inconsequential baby , how would you survive without me ' speech can do much more damage to his fraying composure , because , really , he'd been quite brave and had waited as long as he could to ask them that . one foot out the hotel lounge and the cold wind blew over him mercilessly right away — & that's when he knew he'd fucked up majorly .
" aww , boss , " sniffling , tip of the nose reddened . " don't give me all that , okay ? yeah , yeah , you were right . can't feel my toes , man ! at all ! "
the plush , padded warm lining of the coat shields his back instantly , and it takes him but a second to greedily stick his arms into it's well cut sleeves . very flattering , like most anything armand chose to wear . he caught a glimpse of himself in a dust covered storefront and preened at the slightly broader look of his shoulders , the slim symmetrical swell of the breast pockets . he's no closer to reading kanji , though , and the place could either be a bridal store or a laundromat for all he can tell .
" mmhm , smells good . " he mumbles , sniffing at the fabric , shamelessly . roasted pecans , patchouli , earthy - sweet musk from a gorgeous little neck . " eugh . lemme shove my hands in your pockets — i'm serious ! we should've just ordered room service , my nose is gonna fall off ! "
an independent & selective rendition of The Divine Violinist, Nicolas de Lenfent from Anne Rice's The Vampire Chronicles. AMC based with heavy inspiration from the books. --- est. 2025. 25+. Dead Dove Content. Minors DNI.Sideblog.
carrd. ᯓ𝄞 ˎˊ˗ pinterest. ᯓ𝄞 ˎˊ˗ memes. ᯓ𝄞 ˎˊ˗ promo.
companions: evilanew & solilacquist (ship excl.) coven: musecraft credits: talamasked & dragonspearl
1973
Prints available here
CW: blood, suggestive material
(ID: sequential art
image 1: a scene from San Francisco 1973, Armand sitting on a chair in the dim light of the apartment, Daniel at his feet, Armand’s foot pressed between Daniel’s legs
image 2: a close up of a man’s laughing face on the tv screen
image 3: a close up of Daniel’s open mouth, blood dripping from his nose down his face and the light of a tv screen with a gleeful woman in the background
end ID)
Poet James Schuyler to painter John Button (Spring 1956)
@pulitzer0rtwo
⌗SERAFINOMOSTRO. an independent & semi-selective portrayal of the vampire armand of anne rice’s vampire chronicles / amc’s interview with the vampire ——— as cherished by john / seraf, est. 2017. writer is over twenty-one, minors do not interact. expect canon-typical triggering/dead dove content.
rules. ༊·˚ muse. ༊·˚ pinterest. ༊·˚ ooc.
the color of my lover's eyes
insta • twt • bluesky
