catch all open post

[perfectdevil]

Comments

tfln

[perfectdevil]

1. I sent him nudes while he's out because I am an evil thing.

2. I haven't seen you in years and we have like 16 hours, all I want is cuddles, wine, and some light groping.

3. Don’t get me wrong—I love silver and bracelets—but handcuffs are not a good look on me…

4. I do have a moral compass! I can’t help it if it only points at attractive people!

4

[reorienting]

That is not a moral compass.

[perfectdevil]

What would you define a moral compass as, then?

[reorienting]

The raw capability of defining good or bad. Such things have no bearing on a person's appearance. I would argue that it is independent of personal biases of that nature.

Or, well, it should be.

Or are you seriously attempting to tell me that one's looks are all that define "good or bad" for you? The idea is laughable were it not pitiful.

[perfectdevil]

That isn't what I'm saying at all. I merely meant that I am a slave to my own perception. To be so aware of beauty is a curse all of its own and that I, like many, can so easily be swayed if the one doing the swaying has a pretty face.

Compasses can so easily be manipulated with nothing but a magnet - did you know this?

texting/voice open

[perfectdevil]

text
1. I lost my phone again. Well, lost isn't exactly true. But either way I have a new one now, so this is my number.

2. I need you to talk me down. I don't need to get in a heated argument about musical adaptations today.

3. I've heard mixed opinions, so I need you to decide for me. Do I buy a Tesla?

voice
1. Who is this, why have you called the Alexa?

2. Look, I'll be there in a moment, I'm just in a store. What is so urgent?

3. Don't worry, I won't keep you long. I simply need to know.. Blue or gold?

wildcard
open to anything!

text - 1

[deathoftheauthor]

What on earth did you do to it this time?

[perfectdevil]

Not a single thing. They just don't make them as sturdy as they used to be!

Why do you immediately assume it's my own fault, hmm? Answer me that.

[deathoftheauthor]

Don't tell me you miss the ones that flipped open.

I usually assume things are your fault. That way we're both happy when you actually get to prove me wrong.

[perfectdevil]

Now that you mention it... there was a phone that could take a real beating! Waterproof, too, some of them!

You're being very unkind today, by the way. But, as my life is devoted to making you happy, I will selflessly release you from the torment of the unknown.

It fell. Quite spectacularly.

aaand voice - 3

[deathoftheauthor]

Ah, of course, no need to burden me with context.

[perfectdevil]

Louis. Less of your grousing, answer the question.

[deathoftheauthor]

( you actually expect him to make a decision? on demand? with no warning? you would torture louis???



fine. )

Blue.

[perfectdevil]

Aaah, blue. Blue, I knew you would say blue.

Now, while I have you- [ To be Louis is to suffer. ] Tell me another thing. Velvet or leather.

general open

[perfectdevil]

for anything else, including plotting, put it here!

karaoke | feel free to approximate the year, i left 'modern' vague!

[perfectdevil]

[ One of the greatest inventions of the twentieth century, in his opinion, has to be the karaoke machine. He's seen a lot of fads come and go over the years - pet rocks and mood rings, really, who would have thought - but nothing quite swept him up like the rage of the karaoke machine. It started small and modest, as most things do; a little network show with a man named Mitch and lyrics on screen you could sing along to with your family, and steadily blossomed into something households across the globe were desperate to have for their entertainment and in the palm of their very hands. At one time, dinner party entertainment had been down to the quality of conversation of those attending and perhaps a game or two if you were lucky, and now groups crowded around a tinny little microphone with heady dreams of being the next Jackson 5.

The modern era had only worked in the favour of the humble karaoke machine. Far from the hulking box of black plastic with endless cords of microphones, now the people sitting at the bars could access thousands upon thousands of songs on a system connected to the internet. Fascinating stuff. No idea how it worked. Fascinating nonetheless.

Countless tables full of people flicking through the plasticy sheets of songs available for request, and he chooses this one to sit down at, a tumbler in his hand of something dark with ice in it. He peers at the sheet with shining eyes that seem to reflect the gaudy spinning lights from the disco ball hanging above. He taps a finely manicured nail at a song about half way down the page -- Primal Scream's I'm Losing More Than I'll Ever Have. ]

That one is good, have you heard it?

tdm esque openers

[perfectdevil]

01. zombies, argh (zombie au)

[ The lumbering dead scrape their feet along the ground, groaning and grunting in apparent distaste and honestly? He can't blame them. To be as mindless as this with only the innate instinct for food to guide you... Well, that particular similarity between them doesn't bear thinking about. Is this what Louis had seen in Europe, he wonders. Horrible stuff.

Even at this strange reduced capacity his powers still give him a leg up - though he's sure an infant could outrun the clumsy ambling of these creatures - but there inevitably comes a time when he senses vaguely through the haze that is the state of his Mind Gift in this place someone who is not quite as lucky.

A heavy thwak and the animated corpse hits the wall, congealed and blackened blood spraying as the skull cracks like a rotted fruit. He upturns his nose more at the disgusting state of that once so coveted substance than the actual killing itself, then looks at the figure the creatures were advancing on. ]

You ought not to turn down alleyways too often. So many of them have gates at the end nowadays, and unless you can fly, I don't think it would end terribly well for you.

02. ride in the sky on our ship fantasy (space/reincarnation au)

[ Space travel. What a ridiculous idea. He's seen plenty of films detailing the venture, even read a few novels set in space -- hell, when he woke from The Sleep he read up obsessively on America's great achievement in putting man on the moon -- but he can't help but feel entirely disenchanted by the whole affair. What is up there, after all? According to the photos of Armstrong's small step, there isn't much to be found other than dust and rocks. ]

[ Well, that's how he thought before arriving here. A space station, fitted to the rafters (or, metal roof as the case may be) with everything a person could want on Earth and an extraordinary array of alien wares too, designed for those who have died to have a second shot at life by helping to save neighbouring planets from peril. The only problem is that Lestat is not dead - well, not dead in the sense that everyone else here apparently is - and he has no interest in playing the hero. ]

We're to be a team. [ He announces with no shortage of distaste in his voice. ] For the next mission in a few days. I hope you're strong.

03. and the truth shall set you free (survival/fantasy au [truth serum])

[ The worries of eating poisoned berries and nuts in a place such as this is not a concern that Lestat needs to worry about. While the people around him pick and prod at their bounty of the forest while others search to find adequate places to build shelter, Lestat watches with mild contentedness and wonders when he might start to feel hungry. It will be difficult, everyone here is already afraid, but it won't be impossible. And he loves a challenge.

A group of them go on a small hike up a nearby patch of hilly planes, and Lestat joins. Less people, more opportunity. He tries to scan their minds, but his powers are muddled here. He'll have to get to the bottom of things the old-fashioned way. So later, when they sit by a small fire to talk, Lestat begins his assault to determine which of them might be an ideal meal. However, when someone throws herbs onto the fire, a sickly sweet smell attacks his senses, making him cough up air he doesn't need, and suddenly something painfully true bubbles out of him: ]

a. I have killed everyone I have ever loved.
b. I can't decide which of you to eat first.
c. I am so lonely my heart might break.

04. who will you become when the day is done (transformation/fantasy au)

[ Lestat is vain enough that even a small forced change in his appearance might be enough to end his world. He hasn't seen his handsome face change in over 200 years, so it's understandable he's a little attached to it; right down to the length of his hair, the fine lines near his mouth, the bristle of his sharp eyebrows, the strength in his hands...

Having wings is not that bad. To a point, he understands why his power might have presented in this way, though he wishes it could have been any other of his vast array of abilities that decided to physically manifest. The tail is interesting, a long white and gray thing, incredibly fluffy and seeming to move of it's own will. He watches it with careful eyes now, before he glances at the person standing beside him at this gathering for new arrivals. ]

Do you know what kind of animal tail this is?

3B

[waterintowhine]

[Everyone is confused, afraid, and on edge. Who wouldn't be, waking up in some Light-forsaken wilderness that may as well have never have been discovered by civilization? No matter how tall the trees they climb, nobody can see even the slightest hint of humanity. No buildings, no smoke, no roads..... It really is just them out here. Them, the forest, and a big fat lot of nothing.

It's hard to get organized wen nobody is in charge, huh? But the need to survive out here without even the most basic of tools means they've got to divide up the work somehow. Demyx is quick to volunteer for fishing duty--a little too quick, anyone who actually knows him would say. But can you really blame him for wanting the job that involves a whole lot of kicking back and chilling out, rather than the hard manual labor of building shelter or foraging? Besides, he doesn't need a rod and hook to reel in some sweet catches. A subtle bit of magic to control the currents and freeze the fish in place mid-swim, and he can just pluck them out of the water with his bare hands.

Hanging out around the fire is a well-earned rest to cap off the day, in his opinion. And whatever herbs the others found..... well, they kind of remind him of lounging on cushions and passing around a hookah in Agrabah, to be honest. Cloyingly sweet, heady, intoxicating--his head is swimming pleasantly as he breathes deep, something tightly coiled inside him relaxing to flow free. Even the alarming revelation the dandy sitting next to him drops doesn't make him as tense and wary as it should; Demyx just holds a warding hand up, leaning pointedly away from Lestat.]

Woah-ho-ho, I know someone who's not taking a turn standing watch tonight. Seriously, dude, you don't want a piece of this. I'd just give you food poisoning, y'know?

[perfectdevil]

[ The truth leaves his mouth so quickly that for a few moments he isn't sure the words were his own; he could be hearing someone else's desires, or it could simply be that he's so very aware of his own thoughts that at that moment they seemed deafening, perhaps? But as he looks around to the stricken faces of the mortals around him it becomes all too clear that he has, indeed, let the proverbial cat out of the bag. It should have been obvious, really, it's not like eccentric French accents are ten a penny, is it?

He's about to attempt to charm the mortals surrounding him so completely that they will be convinced they heard him wrong - something he can do as easily as a human might breathe in his own world, he can't imagine it being much more difficult here despite the faint cloud to his mind gift - when the one beside him speaks up for the group.

He pauses for a moment, letting the words hang in the air. This one is more confident than the others. His tone is light, airy, as though it were perfectly normal to be preyed upon by one you thought part of your group. He is mortal, isn't he? ]

Poisoning... [ Not to be That Vampire, but he's going to be That Vampire. He can't exactly go rummaging around in Demyx's head, so dumb questions it is. ] What do you mean by this, food poisoning?

bakerstreet memes

[perfectdevil]

manhandling

[perfectdevil]

prompts at here

if you'd rather not write a starter let me know & i can rustle something up!

♥ for deathoftheauthor

[perfectdevil]

( continued from here )

[ Blue, velvet and bronze. Matching his eyes, indeed. Lestat can't resist a grin when he thinks of that comment. Louis certainly is getting free with his compliments and Lestat can hardly say he minds. Some might even call his behaviour romantic, and isn't that just marvellous.

Lestat greets the concierge of the extravagant London building where he's bought rooms, rises to the top in the elevator, and opens the door with little to no effort in restraining his volume. He wants Louis to hear his arrival without sensing it, feel that strange human trepidation morph to excitement, for him to fully give in to being surprised and loving every moment of it.... Perhaps it's wishful thinking, perhaps he's muddling Louis love for him with a love for being at his whim.. it doesn't matter. Louis complaints every time he does this only make him want to petulantly do it more.

He can hear Louis sitting silently somewhere through the long rooms of the penthouse, and he smiles as he approaches with a brown paper package and a few magazines tucked under his arm. ]

Louis? [ He calls without much need. He just likes saying his name. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

I'm here, Lestat.

( Louis answers his call for the same reason — just for the pleasure of being able to do it, and because he knows it makes Lestat happy when he does. Louis is in the sitting room, which they've gradually and inadvertently been transforming into a library with their various literary acquisitions. He'd tried to distract himself with poetry, but the promised hour seemed to last an eternity, and by the time Lestat arrives home, Louis is quite frankly embarrassed of his own impatience. Well, at least Lestat will be pleased by that.

He marks his place in his book with a ribbon and sets it aside on the small table next to the sofa, and stands to greet Lestat just as he steps through the threshold of the door. As if he hadn't been listening for his steps this entire time, his heart leaping at every little sound. He's sure Lestat knows, no matter how serene Louis tries to appear, particularly when his eyes flit toward the package under Lestat's arm.

Louis presses a soft kiss to Lestat's cheek in greeting. )

Welcome home. Did you have a good outing?

[perfectdevil]

[ Louis looks a sight, as always. When Lestat is away Louis of course lingers in his mind like a beautiful, haunting spectre; elegant, ethereal, something like a dream. When he sees him before him with his very own eyes, the world seems to burst into unimaginable colour. The magnetism he has over Lestat draws him in like a gravitational pull. In moments like this Lestat wonders if he has ever truly appreciated how expertly crafted Louis is. But, in honesty, he does this every time. Always with the same answer.

There is a wonderful little burst of energy to Louis' movements when he enters. Excitement, Lestat thinks. Eagerness. Some of his favourite words. And the small kiss he presses to his cheek that Lestat so easily returns - will this rapture ever cease to amaze him? Circling one another like planets naturally progressing to these touches here and there. It drives him wild. He almost forgets about the package. Almost.]

I did. The air is so different here, I still can't quite believe how so.

[ He lays the package down on a nearby vanity, the magazines on top, and puts his hands to his hips as he looks around at the room. ]

Have you been reading all this time? Really, Louis, there are more things to life, you know.

[ He teases. There is a glitter to his eyes. He knows exactly what he's doing. ]

[deathoftheauthor]

( Oh, is this how it's going to be? Louis raises his eyebrows slightly, his features pinching into the expression he gets when he's attempting to figure out the rules to one of Lestat's games. Asking aloud would mean conceding, of course, and so Louis pivots to turn half away from the package and toward Lestat. )

Not all this time. I had a telephone call. It seemed like a matter of some urgency.

( Ah, but at least it isn't a hardship to look at Lestat, handsome and charming creature that he is. Unfortunately for both of them, self-satisfaction is a good look on him. )