#perceiivent

[miss-polly]

@perceiivent ;

Today's cup was blue china, with delicate flowers painted on the sides, with matching saucer. The rim had been painted with gold lacquer, and the tea was, as ever, piping hot. "Practically boiling, just as you like it," Polly said. It pained her to scald tea leaves like that so often, but she never failed to give a customer exactly what they needed.

[invictarre-archive]

@perceiivent​ asked: ☕ //WOE, JONATHAN BE UPON YOU- my mans got horrid vibes <3  /  Muse Teas (always accepting!)

The cup is cracked, half of the handle missing and the edges chipped. Even the paint flakes away in your hand, a simple brush of your thumb against the side enough to expose more of the porcelain underneath. 

The tea itself is... Pretty much what you’ve come to expect. Generic black tea, likely not an expensive brand but not the cheapest possible option either. Everything about it average, a comfortable middle option that appealed to as wide a market as possible. It was the type of thing that Rose would push your way at stuffy business meetings or League get-togethers, uncaring that you had never much liked the taste.

You sip it out of politeness, scrunching your nose up at the bitterness, and immediately have to fight the urge to look behind you.

...You are alone here, right?

Now, the feeling of being seen isn’t at all unfamiliar. You took to the spotlight like a Ducklett to water, immersing yourself in the stadium culture until your heart learned to pump in time with the audience chants, and you learned quickly how to keep your fans entertained. You were Galar’s sun, their king, their hero, but above all else you were the most talented performer the region had ever seen. You made sure that their eyes were kept locked on you.

But this... Feels different. This isn’t the surface-level observation of a stranger’s gaze upon a showman, seeing only the mask but not what lies beneath it. 

This is... You feel-

You feel known. 

Skinned alive, vivisected.

Pinned like a specimen against styrofoam, unable to hide and unable to escape.

You decide not to drink any more.

-100 HP. You wish you hadn’t tasted that.

You got the Keen Eye Ability! You always did pride yourself on your observance.

[welcometoriddle]

@perceiivent​

     While the sky had been overcast, it was a surprisingly pleasant day in Riddle, considering the time of year. The leaves were all gorgeous shades of orange and yellow, and the breeze was hardly more than chilly. A perfect autumn day really. And the sleepy little coastal town was surprisingly vibrant that day as well, most folks out and about or decorating the front of their shops. Days where the weather was good were perfect for decorating, since Halloween was just around the corner, after all.

     Alli was doing the same, in fact. Standing outside the shop of Moth Wings & Moonbeams, sticking gel bats and pumpkins to the windows as their large cat Gef circled around their feet for the occasional head pat. But as they were about to stick on the start of a little skeleton, they froze up as a vision passed over them. It was brief, showing a bus number and someone stepping off of it as he came into town. They staggered as the vision passed, Gef meowing and nudging them to make sure they were alright.

     “I’m f-fine Gef.. but it seems I’m expecting s-s-some kind of visitor soon..” they said softly, turning to look at the bus stop down the street, knowing their vision would soon come to pass...

[sliding-into-space]

Closed starter for @perceiivent :)

The tall, lanky man pulled down his beanie. He knew he looked suspicious at best, but better than showing his true nature as a Borg amongst Earthlies. After painfully long weeks, he'd managed to get a tiny blip. A signal, a tiny passing data point of his son's location, a place in London England. So here he was, with sunglasses and a mask he looked ready to rob a store.

There was a beep and he help up what looked like a handheld phone from the 80's. The signal kept scrambling. It was like Slider was at one place, only to disappear and reappear miles away. It just didn't make sense! There was one clue however. The signal kept bouncing between this building, and elsewhere. "The Magnus Archives" it read. Coop could wait. He considered breaking in, the security through the service door in the back seemed lacking. But a better plan, would be to appease to the people. He was always great at people. At least he had been before his long stay in solitude. But enough of those thoughts! Coop set down the newspaper he had pretended to read on the bench next to him and stood up as a man exited the building. Perfect. Yes. From one man in the workforce to another.

He jogged slightly to catch up to him. "Excuse me! Hey! Sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for my son!" He held his hand up to slightly above his waist. "He's 13, about this tall, likes skateboarding, cats, cars, stuff like that. Goes by Slider. Brown hair, blue eyes, he's wearing his lucky sweatshirt it's red with a yellow circle. Please... Any info would help a ton if you have any clue." Coop fumbled slightly going through all that info. How had slider done this? Searched for him for so long? Well the best he could do was at least try.

[freeddead]

@perceiivent​​ said: “Jon: ❝ I feel as if a link exists between your heart and mine. And should that link be broken either by distance or by time, then my heart would cease to beat and I would die. ❞  //dramatic bitch much???”

crimson peak | accepting

When Jon speaks, Gerry looks up, eyes wide with surprise, for only a moment before he casts them back down at his heavy boots, which he immediately takes to scuffing against the floor.  All of his instincts tell him that Jon can’t actually mean what he says, and a sickish smile spreads across his face.  Even if he is not the kind of person for whom such eloquence was made, he can’t help that it feels good.  At least he thinks it feels good, the way that all of his organs are twisted around so that he can hardly distinguish them from each other.

For a moment, he just stands there and lets the words be about him until he can’t anymore and his half-belief that they are dissipates about as quickly as it came on.  “You got that out of a poetry collection or something,” he says, tucking some hair behind his ear, but he clearly doesn’t think of it as a bad thing, the smile still firmly on his face (though no less nauseous).  He just doesn’t believe that somebody could come up with those words about him specifically, that they must be borrowed from somebody else, about some other muse.

He laughs quietly, anxiously, and adds, “Pretty soon, you’re gonna go all ‘Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?’ on me.”

[seeasunset-a]

Transmission received from: @perceiivent

Reading:

❝ stand down now. you’re in over your head. ❞   //hands u jon hands u jon hands u jon-

❖

❝Unfortunately, I cannot.❞

Despite his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, Vasco could only stare at the other, holding the eye contact steady. He didn't want to give up the information he held so dear to his heart. Even if he is backed in a corner with nowhere else to go. He would rather take the secrets to the grave than admit any of it. Well, it isn't exactly secrets. Classified information more like it.

❝Now, if you stop trying to hassle me for this classified information, I recommend to go away. It's best to look elsewhere.❞

[paleontaxi]

( closed starter for @perceiivent​ )

Jarod is regularly coming to this museum when he has time.  He has explored the entire thing, up and down, back and forth, many times over in the past twenty-six years.  He is acquainted with every exhibit and can probably give directions better than the actual employees can at this point, but most of the time, he lingers around the fossils, craning his neck and soaking up the majesty of all of these long-dead creatures that absolutely dwarf him.

There is one that he does not have to look up at, the Triceratops skull—this museum doesn’t have the rest of its skeleton, just most of its head—and he catches a woman wistfully admiring it.  He steps past her, towards the display, and he rests a hand on one of its horns, paying no mind to the signage that warns against touching it.  He knows that he is not going to break it, and nobody has gotten on him for touching it since they added it to the museum.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, throwing her a small smile over his shoulder.  “Plaque’s wrong, though.  I’ve tried to tell them to change it, but they don’t listen to me.”  He nods down at the small informational placard beneath the skull, and then takes his hand away from the horn so that he can gesture to the frill on the back of dinosaur’s head.  “It says they used their frill for warding off predators, but that’s been called into question lately.  More likely, they used it for species identification and mating rituals, that kind of thing.”

He takes a step back, lets his hands fall to his sides, and stares up at the mural behind it, a depiction of prehistoric Earth before all of the humans and their pollution got to it, nothing but blue skies and lush, slightly exotic-looking greenery.  “I mean, think about it—most predators are gonna attack their middle, where all of the meat and organs are.  What sense does it make to attack them head-on?”

[huntershowl-moving]

@perceiivent​ | agnes <3

❝ are we monsters? when did we stop being... people? ❞