I feel like I write best early in the day, usually after I’ve ate breakfast. But the only time I get to do that is on the weekends when I don’t have to work. :(
☻: Which genres do you find the easiest to play? (angst, fluff, smut, etc.)
Angst is, by far, the easiest with fluff quick on its heels. Smut, I’m trying to ease back into writing more, but it’s still a struggle for me since I’m not as confident in my abilities to write it.
♀: What is an AU, you really want to play with your muse?
Derrick is a character that I don’t really consider doing AUs with. Tbh, I feel that way about a lot of my ‘regular joe’ type OCs since I’ve written in a lot of different fandoms across the years and I’ve dabbled with supernatural and fantasy elements before. But if I had to pick one, I think a HP AU would be fun.
♠: How many muses do you have?
Right now, I just have Derrick and Nate as active muses. There’s other OCs that I’d like to either pick back up or even make blogs, but I just don’t have the time. It’s hard to juggle these two.
“Night photography is really cool and all, but it’s a bitch to get right.” A frustrated huff escapes him as Nate flips through the photos he’s taken so far. A few have captured the perfect amount of light while others are too exposed or blurry from unsteady hands.
He gives a small shake of his head while deleting the unusable shots. But if his irritation with his own amateur shortcomings is the least bit annoying, Julian doesn’t show it. If anything, he seems to give Nate a sympathetic look before leaning up to press his lips softly against Nate’s.
The camera between them is the only separation and the only reason why he doesn’t immediately wrap his arms around Julian and bury his nose in his neck. A slightly goofy smile tugs at his mouth once the other pulls back, and he thinks it’s high time that they treated themselves.
“You wanna call it a night and get some ice cream?”
Il est un tel plaisir de vous rencontrer enfin , Monsieur Cohen. Je suis un admirateur de votre travail.
Sander would have an opinion on what the little gumdrop is saying if he could speak any fucking French. He doesn’t understand why Martin’s entertaining the boy-- perhaps he learned the habit from the artist, in which case Sander would be outright hypocritical-- but he’s getting a little irked by him.
(Leaves a trail of sleepy kisses along the side of Martin's neck)
The bed is warm. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn; the rest of the world is shut out this morning and Martin is content to hold Julian in his arms for the rest of the day. The kisses make him grin, and soon Martin’s rolling over on top of Julian, kissing him slow and deep like they have all the time in the world.
Slow hands, tracing over sensitive skin enough so that Martin can taste Julian’s giggles as they kiss. His fingers catch Julian’s hips and he savors the gasp he’s rewarded as he settles between the other’s thighs. Martin’s stubble scratches gently at Julian’s skin as he kisses down over his neck. His hips rock forward and his name is chanted by kiss-swollen lips. To hear his name like that... Martin sees the gift for what it is.
A repeat of the night before, though not as rushed, feverish and so new to them both. Instead, it’s slow and relaxed, made all the more sensual with how innately comfortable they both are with each other. Julian gasps and moans his way through each new sensation and Martin treasures that it’s his tongue, his lips, his hands that draws the experiences out for him.
“Martin...” Julian’s hands have found their way to Martin’s back, fingertips pressing, clutching to the older man as he’s filled. He can’t help the soft gasp as a strong arm wedges between his back and the mattress while the other cups his face so tenderly. Martin kisses like he’s porcelain but rolls his hips a little harder because he knows Julian can handle it.
The soft moans are met with a low growl or groan from Martin. Julian resigns himself to the soft bedsheets and even softer pillow as he looks up at Martin in the dark, drinking in the sight of him. His unruly hair, the tone of his shoulders and the broadness of his chest, which is touched with a thin layer of hair as well. They don’t paint men like Martin... they wouldn’t do him justice, in Julian’s eyes.
He reaches for him and Martin knows what he wants without a word. He leans down and kisses Julian deeply, pouring every bit of love into a single intimate gesture. Yes... that’s new to him. He knew before he took Julian to bed for the first time the night prior that he loved him. Completely.
To not be a good fuck for a night or a man trapped to the whims of a fickle or frightened lover... was new to Martin. To have someone hold onto him afterwards, sighing into his hair with an enamored contentedness was all but alien to Martin. Now that he has it, he hopes it’s never taken from him. He prays it never is.
He’s cursing quietly in French by the time Julian spills over their stomachs, and he’s climaxing soon after. Martin keeps himself propped over Julian as the younger tries to catch his breath. The labor of his lungs isn’t the worst it’s ever been. He knows he’ll be fine. He instead pulls Martin down for yet another kiss, the pair of them tangling back up in the sheets to sleep for another few hours.
Perhaps when they wake next, there will be a third time. Or there will be breakfast. Either way, Martin is content.
bECOME A CHARACTER DESIGNER..... and concept artist in general?? for animation or games. thats career stuff and in general goals would just be to help people a lot. i like doing that9. favorite movie
THIS IS A TOTAL TOSSUP between cloud atlas, moulin rouge, and the last unicorn,,, i'd have to say cloud atlas probably takes first place tho. always. love that movie and book too. B)
Julian’s words made Sander chuckle. He, being of wealthy and influential standing, was used to these sort of galas. However, it would seem the man beside him wasn’t as use to the formalities it entailed. The mask that covered his face was intricately designed with swirls and bursts of color represented by the gems placed ever so delicately around the eyes of the mask, making the blue of Julian’s eyes pop out. Sander took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship in the embroidered mask, after all it is not every day someone comes up to him wearing such an exquisite piece of art.
"It’s not all that bad" he said as he brought the red wine to his lips to sip at gingerly. "Why, after a few you begin to get used to this sort of thing".
He looked back to the crowd of masked faces and watching as colors swirled and mixed together in beautiful waltzes. Hands clasped to each other, smiles breaking out as the music filled the air, Sander wondered if the man next to him even knew who he was under his mask.
Or if he knew what the gala was celebrating for that matter.
