open rp / overflow

[vivicidal]

overflow . texting . voicemail . starters . picture prompts . nsfw friendly . etc

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@some_kinda_hero

[vivicidal]

[ Continued from here ]

[ Successfully hiding emotions from an empath rarely ever works out, in fact, Peter's only met a handful of people who could. He tips his head to the side, furrowing his brows slightly as he senses the disappointment. ]

I mean, that's great, I think you'll be amazing...I may have also contributed to a lot of those counts... [ He presses his lips together, almost embarrassed to admit. ]

But that doesn't really answer my question. [ Peter reaches across the table to place his hand over hers, he had missed her more than he could admit. And if she wanted, she could easily convince him to stay longer. How could he ever say no to that face? ]

[some_kinda_hero]

[ Claire's cheeks turn cotton candy pink and her shoulders rise up, like she means to duck down and hide. ]

Really? Well, thank you.

[ Her stomach swoops from the touch. She does a quick look around, wondering if anyone is undercover and tracking him, her, and then watches herself turn her hand over to hold his. ]

I've been...mostly okay. Mom's still breeding Poms, so I set up an Instagram and Tik Tok for the latest; Mister Fluffy Ankles. Dad and I are still...it's still a little strained. But I check in with the government, I run EVO meetings. (shrugs)

[vivicidal]

[ Peter offers a warm smile ] Of course, I wouldn't miss a video for anything.

[ He follows her gaze to the tables filled with people, noting that none of them seem to look in their direction. And even if one or two spare them a glance, he doesn't sense deception. As her hand moves, Peter glances down and wraps his fingers around the base of her thumb, stroking lightly at her wrist. ]

Of course, she is. [ He chuckles lightly, then offers a sympathetic expression. ] Hmm, I can say for certain that I don't miss those check-ins. How are the EVO meetings? I've thought about sneaking in but... haven't had a real chance to catch my breath, you know?

[some_kinda_hero]

[ Where he touches leaves a pleasant burn, and Claire is well aware that it's her and not something Peter is doing with an ability. Just that he's the cause, her reaction. She takes a drink of water before answering, but when she does, her face is lit up on another level, the praise genuine. ] You know, they're actually kinda great? Like, really, really validating, and it's a safe space for some, which is something they've never had, which I love, of course, and it's been reassuring. Like, I did the right thing, and it was difficult and still is, because it's the right thing.

[vivicidal]

[ The light that sparks within Claire is warm and pleasant, it washes over him, stemming from his palm pressed against hers. ] Yeah?

[ He lets her continue, his smile growing with every word spoken. ]

That's amazing to hear, I'm so proud of you and how far you've come. [ Peter gives her hand a squeeze. ] When's the next meeting? I know I said I wasn't in town for very long, but I've been really wanting to try and settle down somewhere, at least for a while - it's going to be difficult, but I think I can figure something out.

Maybe you can help me sneak in? Or if I have to... [ He motions to their hands with his head, his own disappearing from the wrist down for a split second. ]

[some_kinda_hero]

[ She won't blush anymore, no, she actively tries really hard not to, but the way Claire pulls in her lips and smiles so that her cheeks scrunch, she may as well have. ]

Thanks, Peter, that...it means a lot, and I would love nothing more. [ A beat and she expands on that. ] You staying, you coming with me. The next one is the day after tomorrow at six. I'll text the directions later?

[ The food arrives and the blonde brings up Peter's hand to drop a quick kiss on his knuckles, and then turns on her sunny demeanor for the server, overly gracious and yet managing to keep it genuine. She's positively bouncing from the prospect of more time with Peter, of pancakes. ]

[vivicidal]

[ The way she lights up is contagious, even when she tries to hide those pearly whites. Still as radiant as ever. ]

Sounds perfect, I look forward to seeing you in your element. [ His own bright smile quickly takes over his features as she lifts his hand, savoring for a moment in the press of her lips.

He's been wanting more time in one place, more time with Claire specifically, and now that he's here... well, he has to try and stay as long as he can. ]

This was a great idea, by the way. Haven't had red velvet pancakes in... far too long.

@sentientsonder

[vivicidal]

[ Continued from here ]

Humanity is overrated, anyway.

[ But if shifting is preferable, he'll readily follow; it's easy enough to perceive, even through text. He's classified as a dark empath, but he practices both cognitive and affective. Can be quite cumbersome at times, although worth the effort to hold his own shroud in place. Given his evolved state, it's a necessity in more ways than one. ]

Hunting season, I assume?
How do you manage six?
I don't think I could take care of one... with my busy lifestyle.

[ He spends all day at the morgue, and frequently visits during evenings and nights to abate his hunger for something else entirely; it's a good thing that there is never a shortage of clientele. ]

[isola]

{ Will isn’t naive. He’s far too good at what he does. He eventually gets it. His pure empathy is a fathomable ocean, often times surreal. Whether he wants to peek behind the shroud depends on how much he’s willing to look. After Muskrat Farm, he was left an empty shell of a man and it caused a dormant period. A vessel will always need to be filled eventually. He's locked away his attraction towards dark magnetism in a box, one that threatens to wash ashore the longer he subdues it. Will may have been the one who “captured” Hannibal Lecter, but with it his contract with the Devil was sealed. How does one move past that? By seeking people he barely knew, he supposes.

He’s made poorer decisions. }

Possibly. I wouldn't know. My dogs are not suited for hunting.

{ Even if they were fed human remains at one point, it was provided, not sought out. They obeyed instinct. Regardless, Will still cared for them. }

It’s not difficult. It’s a contract. I provide them homemade food and companionship. In return, they give me their solidified loyalty. Behaving comes naturally when they’ve thoroughly attached themselves to you.

What do you do when your lifestyle isn't busy?

[vivicidal]

[ Best to keep those inclinations at bay, Peter doesn't take too kindly toward unwelcome intrusions beyond the veil he meticulously crafted over the years. Although, in Will's case, fascination in his aptitude may bridle ire. It's a rarity when one can glimpse those tendencies without the cold press of his dissection table upon their backs.

Not the wisest choice to seek out someone like Peter, perhaps that box of his was in far worse shape than he realized; eroded and fractured by a need to be unfettered.

Poor decisions, indeed. ]

Therein lies the issue. Attachment. Dependency.
But maybe it would do me some good if I had something else to focus on.
I've considered a cat, mostly low maintenance.
Fickle little creatures, which I might enjoy.

Remain in seclusion
People can be... exhausting.
I mainly work with cadavers, but that human interaction is still a necessity.

[ Although, he still enjoys human interaction, the myriad of emotions can be addicting at times... especially in unsavory situations. ]

[isola]

{ A box is only only meant to hold until it decomposes or someone comes along to open it. Even what is considered inescapable will eventually find its way out. Pandora’s box was crafted to hold all that is cruel, twisted, deprived and even cursed, but the soft curiosity of someone unleashed it all because of temptation. Nothing is meant to last. What’s that saying? Curiosity killed the cat. However, most forgotten is that satisfaction brought the creature back. The other half is overlooked for the sake of only skimming the surface.

He will be a guest until his boundaries are tested, which they often are in his line of work. He's mainly encountered people set in their preconceived notions and judgements about him, more so after he was framed for murder. Proven innocence does not erase the doubt already planted. Often enough his rudeness is seen as intentional when really people have taken liberty to test him. His metaphorical tail is currently tucked away. Which leads him to: }

Ah, cats. I sometimes envy them. Don’t you have to earn their respect? They don't aim to please, only to exist upon their self made pedestals where they intend to be the sole monarch, despite the existence of other cats. To live with such natural freedom… Low maintenance, indeed.

You advice that as if I have a choice in my seclusion.
Does death bring you comfort?

[vivicidal]

I like to think they've earned their pedestals... they essentially brokered their own deal. They domesticated themselves only because they chose to... and yet, they maintain a strong sense of self.

If you don't have a choice, who or what do you allow to pull your strings?

[ He pauses at the next question... truth is, death used to bring him comfort. The knowledge that everything had a beginning and an end. Death was inevitable, and life was merely an experience. But with evolution, the permanence of death was purged from his capabilities. He could only live... or perhaps die vicariously through his cadavers, his victims. Death no longer brought him comfort, not in the way that it once did.

Little did he know, however, perpetual death was still an option for him. ]

There is a sense of comfort, I will admit.
Death is beautiful. Death is inevitable.
It's a calm unlike anything else... liberating.
One of my favorite quotes, "Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams. And our desires."

[isola]

It is a skill not to lose one’s sense of self. If cats had thumbs, wouldn’t the world be a bit more terrifying? It all comes down to instinct. They domesticated out of survival, to have us serve them even if it meant putting on a facade. It also depends on whether one gets comfortable enough in such a deal. Then it becomes about power.

If death is true fulfillment, there’s a cycle. I’ve always thought Persephone out all the greek gods was underestimated in her ability to bring an inevitable transition from the bud of life into a wistful death. Makes immortality almost seem sad.

{ A prickle of a thought stirs within him. He wonders if the fear he’s held over slipping from his own normalcy has to do with how his perspective has shifted. There's a flash of a vivid memory — an open field they came across once a long while ago. A man rooted in a tree, becoming one with nature; flowers intricately and delicately placed upon his open wounds. It was death elevated to art. It brought disgust, or at least it should have. Part of him knew he had in a way accepted the open love letter even back then.

It’s nearly overwhelming once again. }

Far too many have pulled my strings. If I have to be honest, I'm not sure what I am without them.

@wealldosillythings

[vivicidal]

[ Continued from here ]

[ Yes, it is a push he's going to need... but mainly, it's just a reason to have some actual alone time with her................ and Toby, of course.

But mostly, Molly. Alone time in the lab is great, but there's always the chance that someone could pop in. Even if Peter can sense people in his vicinity, distraction would surely be his downfall. ]

Sounds great, I look forward to it!

[ Sounds about similar to his own situation with his family... ]

No, no, I completely understand.
I get it.
I have to admit, I have a very similar relationship with mine.

[ Mainly just holiday's... his mother wants to be apart of his life, she calls frequently just to talk. Peter avoids answering, and generally just follows it up with a quick text about how busy he is. Kind of... sort of... similar. ]

Anytime, just let me know what works best for you.

[wealldosillythings]

[On the one hand, she's thankful that he gets it and she doesn't HAVE to try to explain her relationship with her mother further. On the other...well, she knows how much that sort of relationship sucks. And there's no real gentle way of saying that.]

I'm sorry, Peter. That really sucks. [She doesn't want to pry, but she wants to make sure he knows that if he needs to ever talk about it, she's a very good listener.]

You know how some people, you can talk with them endlessly, and others it feels like battery drain? Mum and I definitely drain each other. I think my dad was the other type, so he sort of balanced us out.

If you ever need to vent, I'm here.

[She misses that feeling - balance. It's a lot rarer these days.]

I can't promise Toby will like you instantly but he is very sweet when you get to know him. Or when he thinks you've got treats, haha.

I could probably do sometime this week. I mean, tonight would just be completely last minute crazy, right?

[...unless...?]

[vivicidal]

It's fine, really... we're both just really busy people.
I've gotten used to it.
We talk when it counts.

[ Maybe he should work on being more truthful... and truthfully, after what he went through with his 'birth' family, it was hard to connect with his adoptive one. ]

Same offer applies to you :)

[ He's a gentleman... well, mostly... only when it came to Molly at this point in time. He's not about to impose on her night unless she gives the okay. ]

Yeah, you're probably right about that.

[wealldosillythings]

I'm sure I'll need to vent once I properly call my mother back, LOL.

[She'd been considering biting the bullet on that tonight, but...well that wasn't written in stone or anything.]

I mean, I'm not doing much tonight besides laundry, which is mostly a waiting game anyway. I just figure you've got plans. Or just want to stay home.

[vivicidal]

I'm all ears and no judgement

[ Is she hinting at what he thinks she's hinting at? ]

Yeah, that's true...
No plans on my end

[ I mean, technically, he did have some sort of plan but they hadn't been solidified. More of an idea of a plan... ]

I have no issues with completely last minute crazy, just for the record.

[wealldosillythings]

[IT IS NOTED FOR THE RECORD. God bless the record.]

it's not a jaunt to Vegas or anything, but do you want to come over?

guys being guys

[pharmacy]

[ It's not dating, exactly. They don't kiss or hold hands or call each other to coo at night. They don't talk about terms or about any of the stuff you talk about with someone you're dating--kids, parents, past relationships. At least, Quentin doesn't think they're dating, but it's hard for him to say; he's never given a guy his number before. Highschool hookups are one thing, high or drunk or running on adrenaline and a dare with boys from the team or Ian from the band in the next town over. But Quentin hasn't dated since he left home, and he certainly hasn't dated a guy. 

[ Which is fine, because they aren't dating. They're just meeting each other for coffee every now and then. A couple of times a week, they take a morning run together. They text--not daily, not for long stretches, just sometimes. It's just...nice. To have a friend. Yeah, Quentin laughs more easily for him, and maybe he's a little stupid before and after they hang out (to the frustration of his manager at the bookshop), but they're friends. Peter's a friend that Quentin wouldn't mind seeing more. Friends. 

[ Apparently the kind of friends that just--show up at each other's apartments unannounced in the middle of the night. When he spots Peter through the peephole of his grungy apartment door, there are no butterflies or laughs to be had--just an anxious knot balled hard in the pit of his stomach. He cusses softly, but it can be heard from the hallway as he yanks the door chain and deadbolt open. It's nearly midnight, but Peter might not be shocked to find Quentin still fully dressed sans shoes, music murmuring from deeper inside the apartment. 

[ His eyes are dark, as usual, but entirely alert--even fixated, as he reaches to palm Peter's shoulder and invite him in. ] What the hell happened to you? 

[vivicidal]

[ dating is a thought that lingers in the far recesses of peter's mind, buried in the memories of his high school sweetheart but not quite forgotten. even now, he mourns, of course he still mourns... all that was good, and kind, and loving had been ripped away, snuffed out. and all he has left is a smoldering pile of ash to keep him warm at night. hardly enough to abate the icy tendrils that coil around his heart, fulfilling a vision that was set in motion long before he could stand on his own two feet.

dating is a thought that he willingly represses, now only a tool, a means to an end. but peter hadn't expected for this particular game to run as long as it has... nor to enjoy his time spent with quentin in all their dysfunctional glory.

misery loves company, right?

but misery isn't what draws peter to quentin's front door, it doesn't echo down the halls as he lifts a hand to signal his arrival. in truth, it's an itch that only quentin can scratch. when the door swings open, peter offers an apologetic smile, hands buried deep in the pockets of his battered coat. he looks worse for wear, hair slightly askew, a bruise forming at his jaw, and a few more hidden beneath the layers. all by design in an attempt to trigger quentin's savior complex, or something akin. ]

Hey, hi, I-I'm sorry to drop by like this, [ he stammers only briefly, adrenaline thrumming through his veins and visibly vibrating with agitated energy as he follows quentin's lead. ]

I uh— ran into these assholes that had too much to drink. I was stupid, so fucking stupid... I should've just— [ peter heaves a sigh, running a hand through his hair to smooth it out. ] They took everything.

[pharmacy]

No--no, no, no just-- [ Just come in and let him see. Once he's urged Peter in, Quentin goes to lock up quickly, as if for some reason those drunk assholes followed Peter here. For a few seconds, Peter can get the lay of the land. 

[ The apartment suits the kind of budget Peter might expect from Quentin's tiddlywinks job clerking at a secondhand bookstore. Everything is a little too narrow and a little too long, and he has the place plastered with paper. Almost collaged, images torn from books to the tune of protection, nightmares, dream interpretation, and here and there a band flyer for something local. There are post-its at various spots with mundane things listed on them (turn off!!, check list app, phone? keys? wallet?) where he'll obviously see them. The place is cluttered, and there's something that makes noise in each oddly sectioned room. A chintzy plug-in zen garden water bubbler in the kitchenette. A ticking wall clock in the room with the broken TV. A tinny speaker playing surly music in the bedroom/office. There's a folding chair in the bedroom, an office chair in the sitting area, and not another seat to be seen in the place. He likes to keep it moving and noisy. 

[ They haven't talked about the nightmares again, but the place paints a pretty clear picture of Quentin's relationship to sleep. ] 

What are you doing picking fights with drunks? [ If he's self-conscious about anyone seeing his inner sanctum, though, it doesn't show just yet. He takes Peter's shoulders to turn him about face, holds onto him for a look up and down. Scowling, Quentin tilts his head for a look at the mottling around Peter's jaw, one hand feathering under his chin to suggest tipping it. ] Whattayou mean everything, how much are you missing? Hey, take this--lemme see-- 

[ Coat off, come on, let him take inventory. ]

[vivicidal]

[ the shift from the eerily quiet hallway, to the discordant mixture of sounds, perfectly contained in quentin's apartment is all but startling... not unwelcome in the slightest, but also not what he had anticipated when he found himself outside the building. by the looks of it, peter almost expected paper thin walls, but perhaps it's older than he realizes. or maybe he was far more engrossed in his thoughts as he patiently waited for quentin to answer the door, who's to say?

coupled with the state of his apartment — the walls especially — it certainly speaks volumes, a vivid display of quentin's most inner thoughts, splattered, and seemingly disorganized. peter takes as many seconds as he can to survey his surroundings, noting only a few key pieces before he's realigning his attention. ]

Oh, you know, one of my favorite pastimes after a long day of work, [ light sarcasm hangs on every word, delivered as a defense mechanism... one that he quickly rectifies with a whispered apology.

peter moves willingly, freely, adjusting the angle to allow quentin a better look at the fresh and tender contusion. he takes another moment to study his expression, watching the varying degrees of concern, displeasure, and concentration. it's... honestly, kind of sweet and almost reminiscent. his gaze then drops to the cupids bow, tracing its curve with his eyes before he's lightly shaking his head and those thoughts free for the time being. ]

Wallet... I don't know how much I had on me, but I'm sure it made their night. Phone, key card... keys— who the fuck takes keys? I— [ peter huffs another sigh, shrugging his coat off, now looking more defeated than anything else at this point. ]

I just need somewhere to stay, and I can figure everything else out in the morning...

[ he doesn't necessarily ask, but it's obvious in the look he gives him. ]

[pharmacy]

Yeah, of course. [ He murmurs automatically, too distracted with taking Peter's coat and setting it on the counter to realize that the question was never asked. He clears his throat. ] You can stay here. Is what I mean. I figured, if you're here, then-- 

[ Shut up. Just shut up. His lips purse to keep from rambling. The rambling is no new occurrence, but just now, when Peter is battered--possibly bleeding?--it feels particularly useless. Not that he's sure what impression he's trying to give here; the fact that Peter showed up here for a place to stay instead of some place else cleaner, more comfortable, or with someone else should speak for itself. He keeps that in mind while digging into the freezer for a gel pack. The place may be a mess, but he's fully prepared for injuries. Always. 

[ The dish towel he hands it to Peter in is perhaps not the cleanest though. ]
 
I don't know how much it'll help at this point, but it'll feel better anyway. [ His hand rings Peter's wrist loosely as he makes the pass, turns it to see the state of his hands--knuckles. ] Is that the worst of it? You breathing okay? 

[vivicidal]

Thank you, [ he smiles lightly for a fleeting moment, sincerity interlaced in his words as he accepts the pack and holds it gently against his jawline. gentle, but not gentle enough. peter inhales through his teeth as the pain radiates and etches itself across his features, then exhales, slow and controlled, easing into his discomfort.

the things he puts himself through should have him shaking his head, reevaluating his life choices. but he made his bed, and it's time to lie in it. ]

For this... for-- letting me stay.

[ peter doesn't hold anything back, doesn't try to hide any of his injuries from quentin. his hands aren't quite the worst of it, but there are signs that he definitely put up... some sort of fight. reddening knuckles, minor abrasions. he outstretches his fingers, resting the tips of them against quentin's arm, a mark of how grateful he is. he then shifts to lean against the counter, body gradually relaxing, ] Breathing is fine, as far as I can tell... but maybe we should wait for the adrenaline to wear off before I commit to that.

[ peter manages to huff a laugh, one that dissolves into a soft groan. ] Come to think of it, I'm sure they left me with more than a few tokens of their gratitude.

[ the bulk of it under his shirt, scattered bruising along his rib cage and a few more down his legs... nothing that requires immediate medical attention. just a little tlc. he made certain of that. ]