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Multiple Settings ✒ Searching for that literary spark. {Open}

Sub Genres
Action, Adventure, AU, Dystopian, Historical, Horror, LGTBQ Friendly, Magical, Multiverse, Mystery, Platonic, Realistic, Romance, School, Slice of Life, Super Powers, Supernatural, Zombies

Husk

wears heelies to escape their feelies

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︽𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕖.︽
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{{This is a repost from my side!~ Feel free to reconnect with me if for some reason we fell out of touch}}
Currently, I am seeking partners to weave intricate tales with, crafting something of intrigue for us both.
I, subjectively, consider myself advanced.
I have had the itch to have some more folks to write with to hone my abilities.
So, here we are.
People have called me intimidating, I don't see it, but please don't be intimidated.
I'll write with any skill level
, so long as you can help carry a plot and make engaging posts that leave me hungry for more.
I decided to create a massive search thread on my main, so here I am. If we've been in contact and I haven't gotten back to you, I likely missed your message, please feel free to nudge me on here.
So, how about a brief introduction then?

︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸
✎I am twenty-five years of age.

✎I am an avid world builder, plot creator, and character developer. I can play multiple sides as well.

✎My style is a bit of a pill to swallow, and I have inclinations towards a more extensive vocabulary.

✎I love OOC and talk incredibly casually despite my formalness in this thread.

✎I'm meme garbage.

✎I game a lot, wanna talk games? I'm all for it.

✎ While I like to consider myself moderately advanced, I'm not an asshole. I don't mind if your grammar isn't perfect or if you have difficulty with English due to it being your second tongue. If you can carry a plot well and create intriguing characters and work with me, I'll work with you.

✎I draw huge inspiration from music and lyrics.

✎I am an artist.

✎I can be a slow writer, I ask for patience, the same of which I'll return to you.

✎Overall, I'm chill asf.
︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸︸


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ℙ𝕝𝕠𝕥𝕤|ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤|𝕊𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤|𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞𝕤
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Modern

Historical (ask me about this one, there are some time-periods I'm not well versed in.)

Fantasy

Futuristic

Utopic/Dystopic

Fantasy

Sci-Fi

Post-Apocalyptic

Any mixture of the above, to be honest.

Open to suggestions.

themes; angst ; slow burn; psychological ; gritty & dark; macabre; slight fluff; survival; thriller ; mystery ; the human psyche ; beasts ; revenge ; moralistic complexities ; phobias ; toxicity ; musically inspired ; romance ; platonic ; mental illness (but only if played accurately) ; addiction ; death ; noire ; mafia & crime ;
Hero Academia

Parasyte

Tolkien, though I could be better versed.

Probably wouldn't mind doing setting in some of Stephen King's novels.

Fallout

The Elder Scrolls

The Last of Us

Lovecraft

Dragon Age, another I could be better versed in, tbh.

Mass Effect

FNAF

Gravity Falls

Rick and Morty

Anything by Junji Ito. I suppose that's a bit niche.

Silent Hill

Law and Order: SVU, CSI

Amnesia and its counterparts.

Dark Souls.

Homestuck.

The Purge

Bioshock

Red Dead Redemption

GTA

Animal Farm, 1984

Flatland

F.E.A.R

Condemned: Criminal Origins

Haunting Ground

The Cat Lady, Downfall

Dead Space

Okami

Amnesia

The Hannibal Lector Series

Tokyo Ghoul
I can pretty much come up with a plot for any of these but ones with "*" already have seedlings planted.

It's like Subway up in here bros, pick and match and mix.


➳*Addict|Addict, Addict|Former Addict, Addict|Sober


➳*Darker twists on the Red String of Fate.


➳*Darker twists on fairy tales of all sorts.


➳*Cultist|Demon


➳*Cultist|God


➳*Ghost|Living, Ghost|Ghost, Ghost|Other Supernatural Being


➳Gods, maybe? Or entities such as Death.


➳*Criminal {thief, prostitute, etc.}|Officer {corrupt or not}


➳*Someone struggling with their sexuality|Someone open, or perhaps, two characters struggling with their sexuality. Addable to any plot.


➳Exploration of life after death, perhaps?


➳Something based off of the song Hotel California, or really, based off any song. Gotta love basing plots on songs.


➳*Shifters! Be they weres or something of the sort.

➳Toxic relationships or forbidden love, or both.

➳Survivor|Survivor in a post-apocalyptic or war-torn setting.

➳Soulmate AUs, but dark, maybe?

➳Rivalry to Romance.

➳Ex|Ex

➳Cthuloid shenanigans

➳Time Traveler|Normal Human, Time Traveler|Time Traveler

➳Alien|Human

➳Dragon Shifter| Dragon Hunter

➳*Kidnapper|Kidnapped

➳Angel|Demon

➳Monster|Human

➳Immortal|Immortal

➳Immortal|Human

➳*Shifter|Human

➳Experiment|Scientist

➳Experiment|Experiment

➳ Popular|Unpopular

➳ Obsessed|Obsesser's target of fancy. {Idea in place for this one. I will not play the Obsessed muse, burnt out on it, sorry buds.}

➳Disordered|"Neurotypical" (must be construed well)

➳*Competent Survivor| Incompetent Survivor

➳* Werewolf|Human

➳Werewolf|Werewolf

➳Demon x Mortal

➳Demon x Cultist

➳Vampire x Mortal

➳Vampire x Werewolf

➳Vampire x Supernatural Hunter

➳Werewolf x Supernatural Hunter

➳Werewolf x Werewolf

➳Werewolf x Mortal

➳Mortal x Ghost

➳Drug Dealer x Drug Addict

➳Drug Deal x Sober

➳Drug Addict x Drug addict

➳Open x Closeted

➳Reaper x Immortal

➳Time Traveler x Regular person

➳Obsessive x Object of Obsession

➳Seasoned apocalypse survivor x Clueless Apocalypse Survivor

➳Apocalypse Survivor x Apocalypse Survivor

Witch x Outcast

Witch x Regular Human

Detective x Detective
(* Indicates I have more details for this particular seedling, but I am keeping it short for the sake of this post. I'm continually adding to this.)


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*Society is led to believe they live within a Utopia and Muse A falls under this umbrella, while Muse B, a wanted individual, knows the true nature of their world, and, in desperation, reveals this truth unto Muse A.
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*Muse A is a detective that can see ghosts while Muse B is studious in criminal psychology (potentially a serial killer, think Hannibal Lector, here) and agrees to assist Muse A in capturing a killer who has proved to be an utter enigma.
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*Muse A travels to a town where suicides are rumored to be exceptionally high, only to find that Muse B is the definite cause of this, unbeknownst to those around them.
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Muse A is a recovering drug addict while Muse B is a very convincing dealer.

Or Muse A and Muse B are two addicts struggling to get sober.
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*Muse A is an undercover cop, undercover, that is, to the most dangerous gang/mob within the city.

Muse B is the crime/mob boss.
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*Muse A is a shifter, a dying and hunted race, who comes to Muse B's doorsteps, injured and defensive. Muse B decides to take pity on Muse A.
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*Something similar to Wolf's Rain. This isn't a seedling, but I've five million ideas for this, okay?
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Muse A and Muse B are participants, willingly or not, of the purge.
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Muse A is an immortal being who is utterly sick of Muse B's time-traveling bullshit.

Or
Muse A is a time traveler, and Muse B is an immortal, they spend their lives together meeting throughout time
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Muse A is a human who, oddly, cannot die meanwhile Muse B is a frustrated Reaper, assigned to reap the soul of Muse A.
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Muse A is a beautiful, brilliant student who has, unfortunately for them, caught the attention of Muse B, a transfer student who only recently just started at the university. Not much is known about Muse B other than the fact they’re new and relatively quiet. Muse A takes it upon them-self to show Muse B around, a gesture misconstrued as romantic affection. Muse B begins to obsess, and eventually kidnaps Muse A.
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Muse A lives in a small town just a stone’s throw away from a dense forest, called the Whispering Woods. Every afternoon, especially in the fall, when the leaves are changing color, and the air is crisp, Muse A likes to walk through the woods on their way home. Muse A sits on the kissing rock at the mouth of the woods, straps up their boots and inhales the fresh pine before embarking on the winding path to the log bridge. As Muse A crosses the log bridge, one foot over the over, they enjoy the soft ‘whispers’ (for which the woods are named after) of the meandering creek below. The whispers always seem louder in October for some reason, almost comprehensible. Townspeople like to say it’s because the woods are haunted by spirits, but Muse A’s never been the superstitious type. They’ve been frequenting the woods since they were a kid and nothing spooky has ever happened to them before.


One afternoon, Muse A encounters Muse B in the thick of the towering pines. Muse B looks lost and disheveled as if they haven’t had a shower or a proper meal in a few days. Concerned for the unfamiliar wanderer, Muse A offers to guide Muse B out of the woods, back to civilization. Muse B instead asks Muse A to stay with them a while; they want to visit the log bridge, their favorite place. Muse A can see that Muse B is the lonely sort, so they agree to walk to the bridge with Muse B; they were headed there anyway. When the pair arrives at the bridge, Muse B struggles to recall why they found this spot so special, or anything about who they are at all to make conversation with Muse A, but they can’t remember. Muse A insists on helping Muse B leave the woods, worried that Muse B might be suffering from amnesia or something worse, but when Muse A gets to the edge of the woods, Muse B, who they thought was right behind them, is nowhere to be found.


Muse A calls out for Muse B for several minutes and gets no response. The sun is going down, and the chill in the air is biting through Muse A’s coat, so they go home. They barely sleep that night, thinking about Muse B and hoping they’re alright, wherever they are. Bright and early the next morning, Muse A returns to the woods, hoping to find Muse B again. Muse B is there at the foot of the log bridge, waiting for Muse A, unsure of how they got there or what’s keeping them bound to these woods. Muse B is a ghost but doesn’t know it.
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A darker plot that revolves around the red string of fate myth.

I have many alternate plottings for this given that this is just a taste of one of the ideas.

Serial Killer (Or serial criminal)|Detective

Or

YC (to be determined)|MC(to be determined) **see notes & alternative ideas**


YC and MC are connected through their dreams as well as the scatterings of their thoughts and memories. More or less tied to each other akin to a twisted red string of fate.

Our characters may own memories that belong to the other.

Incoherent thoughts that aren't theirs. The two also share a life force. One cannot survive without the other.

MC will often experience lucid dreams revolving around YC’s murders (or actions), be they past or current.

MC has no control over his actions in these dreams; he can only follow in YC’s footsteps through every sequence of events. A thick fog, vast and obscuring, shrouds the dreams, disallowing MC from seeing YC’s appearance or even hearing YC’s voice with complete clarity. YC has managed to chip away at some of this fog, allowing YC to discover the identity of MC. Lots of paths can form from here. Perhaps YC becomes keen on the life link the two share? MC is not as enlightened as yours in these matters, still in a state of discovery.

I'd love to develop the reasoning behind their connection. Be it from human experimentation the two are unaware of, a demonic aspect, or even a Lovecraft type twist. This is a very moldable plot. I want to explore the darker side of the red string of fate. I have a lot of smaller ideas on this.


Notes: YC does not have to be a serial killer. I would just love this twist on a serial killer x detective plot. We can explore other avenues as well. Moral confliction would be excellent to have here. I can see this set in a lot of different time frames.

!Alternate Ideas!: YC is a demon with an unfortunate attachment like the above to a human, oh boy.

Or anything revolving around a more darker version of the red string of fate. It doesn't have to follow the above plot line to a T.
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IN LIMBO

After a rattling near-death experience, Muse A walks the lines between the living and the dead, capable of seeing those who have passed, however, up until this point his "sight" has been minor, blurred. Barely a scratch upon his life.
However, this ability is beginning to manifest to its fullest, becoming stronger as the days pass, like dreams transferring to reality.


Unfortunately for Muse A, this quirk brings about a certain allure to spirits, some with nefarious intentions which, unbeknownst to him, leaves him in a vulnerable state.
Muse A cannot communicate with the dead, his attempts proving fruitless, and he carries the knowledge that eyes pry at all times.

Muse B is a spirit caught within the "restless" realm of the afterlife, where there is no sanctuary- no heaven, nor is there a hell, only an endless limbo.
Those who remain in limbo for too long lose their sanity and eventually their humanity, becoming nothing more than hungering wraiths clinging to the remnants of their memories and seeking to devour the ones of others.
For reasons beyond his understanding, Muse B lives in a cyclic loop, reliving the moments of his death just as he experienced it when he was alive.

Things change once the seedlings of Sight begin to form within Muse A. From then on, Muse B lives free from the nightmare of his death, but to his chagrin is chained to Muse A and cannot explore far beyond him.
Not able to understand the linkage, Muse B is resigned to being bound to Muse A, whose psychological state is steadily declining as he struggles to cope with living amongst apparitions and the unnerving, haunting feeling of being hunted.
When Muse A begins to see Muse B and connect further to the afterlife, both their worlds are turned upside down.
For, as stated, to walk among ghosts while blood pulses through your veins is a dangerous path to tread.
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If an asterisk exists by it, I have an idea in mind.
I love being inspired by music, so have some songs to inspire plots.

*If I Believe You - The 1975
“I thought I'd met you once or twice,
But that was just because the dabs were nice,
And opening up my mind.
Showing me consciousness is primary in the universe
And I had a revelation.
I'll be your child if you insist
I mean, if it was you that made my body
You probably shouldn't have made me atheist”
God/Angel x Mortal.
Muse A has grown up within a cult, his life built around religion. Being the son of a high ranking priest, he is, of course, expected to follow suit. However, Muse A has a complicated relationship with religion, having, in time, growing to ultimately become something of an atheist, if barely bordering on agnostic. However, feeling as if the weight upon his shoulders is too much to bear, Muse A makes a suicide attempt. Albeit only to experience a near-death experience where he meets Muse B ( a God, demon, angel, or something of the sort), who tears his ideologies of fate apart, as once Muse B interfered with Muse A's attempt, ending it, they now have an unspoken connection. Muse B has his own struggles within his domain and Muse A must face a bewildering reality that beings beyond humans exist.


*The Other Side Of Paradise - Glass Animals
“When I was young and stupid
My love left to be a rocking roll star.
He told, “Please don’t worry.”
Wise little smile that spoke so safely.”
Muse A and Muse B were lovers, briefly, but intensely so. Muse A, chasing fame, booked a one-way ticket to the west. Good ole Cali’.
Muse B, while dismayed, did not attempt to halt Muse A’s dreams, so, patiently, Muse B waits for correspondence from Muse A, awaiting the day they can be together again. However, as time crawls by, Muse A grows in popularity and begins to speak with Muse B less and less until, abruptly, communication is ceased altogether. Muse B is left with their heart shattered.
Years pass, Muse B, with humor, moves to California, the state their former love pined over so much. Muse B is doing fairly well for themselves, all things considered. Muse A, on the other hand, is a flickered out flame, his fame dissipating. In short, Muse A is a wreck, addicted to drugs and barely scraping it by.
In a chance meeting, Muse B bumps into, literally so, Muse A, who is completely and utterly drunk.
How will Muse B confront Muse A and how far down the gutter has Muse A fallen?


*Like Real People Do - Hozier
"I knew that look dear
Eyes always seeking
Was there in someone
That dug long ago
So I will not ask you
Why you were creeping
In some sad way, I already know.
I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask you and neither would you."
Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}



*Cane Shuga - Glass Animals
"Burn through my love
Just like your drugs
I've had quite enough
Or lack thereof."
A former addict/sobered x Individual delving deep into addiction.
Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}


**Craving - Unravel - Jonathan Young {Cover}
"I'm not what I was then
Don't touch the infection.
Entwined we will both die.
So stay away, and stay alive
I'm breakable, unbreakable
I'm shakeable, unshakeable
Unraveling, I won't infect you!

Now I'm turning to dust in a world that's twisted,
Don't come searching when I go missing.
Close your eyes or just try to look away,
Don't want to hurt you.
We live in a world someone else imagined,
The ghost of what's left of me all but vanished

Remember my heart, how bright I used to shine."
Cryptid/Supernatural/Monstrous being/Previous Experiment|Former friend
Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}

*The Beers - The Front Bottoms
"There's Beer,
In coffee mugs, water bottles, and soda cups.
And it's clear, as the windows I came through,
That you,
Are in one of those moods.
And I am in one of them too.
And it's hard, to communicate, anything.
I'm holding on to hope I'm sure was never even there."

Ex|Ex
Muse A, Muse B's ex, stumbles back into their life after years have since passed, drunk and scrambling to get their life back in order, which has spiraled out of control.
Muse B, tentatively, despite leading their own relatively successful life, relents and gives Muse A shelter.
Many elements {such as supernatural} can be added to this.

*You Can Be The Boss - Lana Del Rey
He had a cigarette with his number on it,
He gave it over to me, "Do you want it?"
I knew it was wrong but I palmed it.
I saved it, I waited, I called it.
The liquor on your lips, the liquor on your lips,
The liquor on your lips makes you dangerous.
I knew it was wrong, I'm beyond it,
I tried to be strong but I lost it.
You taste like the Fourth of July
Malt liquor on your breath, my, my.

Criminal x Officer
Bad x Good
Sober x Dealer.
Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}


*The Night We Met - Lord Huron
I am not the only traveler,
Who has not repaid his debt.
I've been searching for a trail to follow again.
Take me back to the night we met.
And then I can tell myself,
What the hell I'm supposed to do.
And then I can tell myself,
Not to ride along with you.
I had all and then most of you,
Some and now none of you,
Take me back to the night we met.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Oh, take me back to the night we met

Demon|Demon Slayer
Demon|Angel
Demon|Mortal/Cultist
Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}

*Wait By The River - Lord Huron
If I can't change the weather
Maybe I can change your mind
If we can't be together
What's the point of life?

If we can't be together
I will leave this world behind
If I can't touch your body

Can I touch the sky?
Ghost/Spirit|Human
Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}

**A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers
Time and again boys are raised to be men,
Impatient they start, fearful at the end.
But here was a man mourning tomorrow,
Who drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow.
He could not break surface tension,
He looked in the wrong place for redemption.
Don't look at me with those eyes,
I tried to unheave the ties.
Turn back the time that drew him,
But he couldn't be saved,
A sadness runs through him.

Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}

**Great White Bear - Dear Reader
Oh, what a fix they're in,
Oh, what a terrible sin,
Oh, what a fix they're in,
Oh, what a terrible sinister game
The hunter did play
To give them the hope
That they could get away
When biding his time
He did wait down the line
To bring a disaster
On their youthful dreams of escape

Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}

*"Personal" - Stars
Sorry to be heavy,
But heavy is the cost,
Heavy is the cost.

Darker Soulmate AU.
Two souls who always seem to reconnect in life, no matter what.
Angst, slight fluff, grittiness.
Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}

*In Cold Blood - Alt J
01110011,
Crying zeros and I'm hearing 111s.

Android/AI x Mortal.
Perhaps a murder mystery with twists and turns? Sci-fi world where AI/Androids are oppressed and romance between humans and synthetics are disallowed.
Dystopic.
Ask for elaboration. {Meaning it's still a seed in my head.}`
𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕤
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A gale that bore frigidity bit at his extremities, to the bone or so it felt and Elias cursed beneath his breath, which expelled a wispy, vaporous cloud spiraling into the cutting air. Not even his gloved fingers knew freedom from the sharp nip.
Moreover, Elias found himself reflecting, having completed business at a time suitable to his liking. Ole Sky-vine, where satisfied clients remembered their biases only when backs had turned from each other and the transaction born from coveting an inebriation met its end.
That was when the yawning schism between the impoverished and the affluent flourished again. Akin to weeds that grew before festering and blooming once more on its remnants in a circle of continuity. Those youth born prosperous grew to detest the poor, older generations sowing the seeds of such. Here, the wolves ate their young.

However, there lay a convoluted beauty within Elias's line of work which saw him connecting with individuals from all avenues of life. The latest, and last being a lad clad in a tweed three-piece, complete with the sheen of black Oxfords shined to finish and a watch lined with tricklings of gold.
All in all, it did not take much scrutinization to tell the man sang exuberance from head to toe.
Oh, and how that wristwatch was a temptress, indeed; however, Elias did not steal from paying clients, if they were in good standing, at least.

Ah, and yet Elias held inclinations towards remaining a blur amidst these dealings, dressed so to obscure his economic standing, not outfitted to match stereotypes. Although his attire did not propagate a sense of overabundance, it did enough to gratify his wealthier clients. A requirement, lest he attracted the attention of a traipsing police officer, better he did not resemble the common descriptor of a Rockie. Or anyone who might display an inkling that they were up to no good. Which, in actuality, was his constant state of being. Did not mean he could not deceive the public in regards to that, wool over the eyes and such.

With a cigarette suspended between two practiced fingers, Elias forged ahead through the bitter frost, teeth chattering between long drags. Yes, Elias loathed the cold. Furthermore, he near enough held a sensitivity to it with his emaciated frame, bony prominences offering him scarce fragments of protection against these elements, leaving, of course, the fraction of sprawling warmth beneath his winter-wear precious.

Ah, how he pined to settle down in a tranquil location with the comforts of isolation. Alongside, of course, the delectability of a high. A straightforward yearning, yet the ease of acquisition seemed elusive when life bustled around him.
Regardless, flicking the rusted gear of his lighter, he bore a flame to kiss the end of his cigarette. Which, to his chagrin, appeared to maintain resistance, staying lit due to the relentless gusts of wind.
In truth, he ought to go back to Clifford Heights, returning the bottles of prescription medication to their proper place of hiding. However, Elias found it strenuous and burdensome to pivot around and do such.

The insatiable beast known as hunger began to gnaw at him, tormenting him, urging him to binge. Just another reason to get high; he could focus on that as opposed to the dreaded sensation of wanting to devour a whole meal. With a viewpoint distorted by what he saw in the mirror, hunger left him miserly and bounded by guilt.
No one deals drugs if they fit in the confining and well-structured, unbudgeable box society conceived for those labeled "normal."
Furthermore, despite a stoicism in his countenance, Elias's nerves were frayed, becoming threadbare by each lapsing minute.

Aware of the reasoning, sourced from a letter addressed from the residence in which his Grandfather- a bad memory- dwelled. For now, Elias strived to suppress the remembrance until it dissipated and slipped from his mind like granules of sand sifting through an hourglass although he could not shake the perturbation.
While it was true, he tiptoed on a taut rope, and his woes were both mountainous and continual, he declined with a fervency to accept any aid from the bastard. A given, since Philip was manipulative, and the cyclic nature did not allure him.

Regardless, focalization upon another subject would help. So Elias toyed with an unlabeled bottle tucked within his jacket pocket, the rattling of the medications proving soothing in a peculiar way. Akin to a lullaby. Despite their lack of labels, Elias knew which drug was which. Each had an indicator of a sort, be it a symbol to the very form of the pill. Despite it being illegal, he prided himself on being a good dealer, and an even better thief.

Of course, he had hoped for something more, unexplainable and better, enigmatic almost, yet one must play the hand life deals them, even if with complicated cards. In the meanwhile, so consumed by his ruminations and pondering, Elias's foot went straight through a weak layer of ice. Thus, fracturing it so that it dampened it with the gelid water that snared him.

"God damn it."

Wincing as the stinging bite of cold surged through him like a parasite, Elias reached into his boot, denoting his sodden sock with an explicative. This blunder is where being lost in musings instead of being analytical of surroundings gets one, a foot deep into the cruel, lapping waters of a glaciated lake.
Beyond exasperated, Elias shook his foot as if to shake the freeze and increase circulation. Had anyone seen his blunder? Having traversed away from the mass of humanity by the accord of his own feet, he hoped fortune favored him in not looking like a jackass publicly speaking.
To his dismay, two women were adjacent to him, one whose ebony locks made a stark contrast between the ivory purity of the snow beneath her. The other stood, looking downwards as if engaging in conversations and speaking utterances Elias was too far to discern.

While one of the girls he knew naught, the one with noire tumbling, tendrils he knew in a unique, yet intriguing, cocktail of friendship and business combined.
Damned, if she did not look stoned.
Time as a dealer versed him in the cues of intoxication rendered by alcohol and narcotics, or perhaps an accumulation of both. Visage alone was enough to unravel the inquiry of someone's sobriety.

Almost forgetting his drenched foot, Elias ambled towards the two, humored, a wry grin, minute, playing on his features. Never had he ran into Boulevard outside of a transaction, it seemed fate made it so never would they meet unless it was to delve into drugs. Although, that changed now.
"Well, well, well Boulevard and-?"
Idling, he studied the other girl, and she looked like the pinnacle of sobriety, so, he imagined Boulevard had not shared.
"I don't believe I've met nor seen you in town. Either way, I'm Elias, a- friend, of Boulevard's."

Granted an allowance to exit the perimeters of the facility to which he knew himself bound by the behest of an enigmatic higher-up amongst government ranks. A mystifying figure that went by a coined moniker of "The Fetcher.'
For the time being, Eli knew only rumors and gossip, and that fed him little in regards to valuable information.
Moreover, putting that aside, Elias found himself free again.
Before being ushered away, they outfitted him with a snug and vexatious collar. Of course, the collar served as, from what Elias inferred, a device engineered to track each one of his very movements. To his ire and chagrin, a sharp, biting shock stung him should he traverse further than the designated zones to which his imprisoners sanctioned.

Damn, how often, indeed, had he ran the metaphorical ball and chain through a multitude of trials defined by persistence. If only to find the irksome hunk of metal to be both impenetrable and impossible to dupe.
Ah, such was the life of a government dog. All in all, what is a dog without his muzzle and leash? Without the ability to give an instantaneous heel when commanded? Without fangs suitable to strike down the foes of his master?
To his disdain, Eli had risen to become a favored pet of the government- a tool utilized with a singular, primary purpose, and this was to annihilate cryptids.

Indeed, molded to fit the whims of the government. As if sculpted by an artist with preferential for the macabre. One of whom that damned him to a fate not enviable nor one to pine after. Regardless, as Elias ambled down a dilapidated sidewalk, his lips twisted into a sneer of utter revulsion. Furthermore, musing on how uncomprehending- how fucking oblivious- the mass of humanity was.
As his mood was fractious, he averted eyes to the occasional passerby in a glower with no residual pity.

An endless hunger panged in his core. Gnawing away, festering- and being amidst those that retained normalcy only exacerbated it until he felt his skin begin to crawl and itch. However, if he were to act upon or fancy the instinctual urges that roused beneath his surface, he would meet the electric touch of the smothering collar. So, in that end, he had taught himself to maintain composure, no matter the creeping insatiable void within him.
Although should he fulfill the requirements of the operation given to him by designation, the reward was what he coveted most. Although, the sanguine liquid so essential to his being never quite fit the specifications of his inclinations, instead, becoming more akin to that of meager table scraps.
Why would the government that utilized him as a tool to suit their twisted ideologies - the very same collective that fragmented his trust- care about what contended his longings?

Either way, he jolted his ruminating mind back to the task at hand, which had proven to pique his intrigue.
The government deemed it a necessity to silence fellow cryptids through the embrace of death unless chosen for experimentation. As such, Elias oft faced foes so alike it became mundane after a certain point. Of course, with this assignment, his quarry was, in particular, a rare breed of cryptid. A necromancer, to be specific, and despite his reluctance to play the part of a pawn, he found himself nearing exuberant to meet the fellow of which he sought. A great pity indeed that it would only end in bloodshed. Most certainly tragic, especially since Elias would have savored scrutinizing and formulating inquiries regarding the victim's exact nature and skill behind his necromancy.

Alas, the government did not allocate time for interrogation, only for the hunt itself.

In regards to the hunt, Elias found himself nearing the destination where his prey awaited, proceeding to an apartment complex. While the trek to this complex was lengthy at best, Eli did not feel wearied nor diminished in energy. After all, his innate strength gave him the capability to journey long distances without suffering from the hindering complications a human might.
Given that it was the eve, Elias might go as far as to state an invigoration held him, a particular shade of energy coursing through him that bordered on manic.

Clad in black, he blended into the darkness wreathing him, only furthering his elation.
Regardless of his pointed viewpoint on his "masters," Elias did, in thoroughness, procure a grand gratification from hunting assigned quarry. Beneath the splendor of the silvery moon, it seemed to solidify to him, that at this moment, he lavished in what freedom would taste like, so close yet so far.

Putting the fascinating idea of being freed from his shackles aside, Elias came to an abrupt halt at a unit that displayed the numerals given to indicate the correct address.
So, this was the residence that a supposed necromancer resided in, perhaps not the imagery one would envision.
Despite holding within its confines a rarity, in stark, it lacked in anything engrossing to its exterior. Regardless, Elias tested his weight against the door, calculative and knowing it to be a weak barrier against the brunt of his impending force.
Without hesitance, Elias collided his body into the frame of the door, demolishing it into mere shatterings of its former self. All in all, the least problematic and lesser task of his duties.
With a scintilla of humor, I analyzed Rose when she plucked the cigarette from my fingers fiddling with it before distinguishing my handwriting etched into one of its sides. Afterward, sputtered laughter escaped her once she discerned what the print read, and I reckoned recognition at once struck.
A phone number, an indicator of my fascination, bestowed with a particular uniqueness suiting of my craftiness and I discern how flustered she is as her cheeks begin to redden.

In mentioning my unorthodox approach, I could not contain a kittenish grin. Out of habit, I ran fingers through the ebony tendrils of my hair where the wind mussed it to tame it — a bit of a fruitless endeavor. However, the idling of my hands did not match the speed of my diminishing high, and, I grappled with meeting the gravity of sobriety.
The attempt to both obscure my come down and retain flirtatiousness proved arduous. However, it was something I acclimatized to long ago.

As it stood, I surmised she knew of neither my inebriation nor my crash from the skies of ecstasy. Moreover, I preferred it remained as such. Especially since it did not take keen intellect to conclude there was distinct implausibility she delved into the depths of drug usage. Thus, I would face disapproval, the sort I did not want to rouse any kindling of if not to avoid whatever outcome it would stir. At the moment, methodical, I played my hand with all intents to obscure habits that would lead the stray lamb from the flock to turn a nose. What fun would it be if she knew everything about me with immediacy?
Indeed, it emanated from her that she did not oft attend parties nor engage in the use of illicit substances.

"You don't smoke, and you don't take numbers, so, why pocket that cigarette?"
Perhaps I knew the answer, and yet, I fabricated and wove an utter emotive of being mystified in response. Of course, my inquiry reflected this feigned lack of cognizance.
All in all, I ascertained razzing her a bit further to be worthy of the humor gained. Beyond that, she did look adorable with her complexion florid.

Regardless, when she articulated incredulity of my weariness of what transpired back inside, I hummed aloud before giving a hefty shrug of my shoulders.
"See one party and you've seen them all, kitten."
Not that I, in particular, received the invitation letter for this party- no, I had business here to settle, and beyond that, I stayed in the know of events held in extravagance akin to this.
Indeed, ivory marble flooring with rooms embellished so that despite the stifling hoard inside, the house exuded an air of opulence.

When she gave way to a chortle, I almost found it virulent.
So, she saw little of herself, noted.
"Is it such a reach I find you curious amongst all the other girls here only to get wasted?"
Afterward, I chuckled and gave her a wink.
"Three letters too many, I'm glad you'll tolerate Rose because it's what I would call you even if you despised it."
That was always how I operated with names, fickle things- I often concocted nicknames for others that suited their visage and 'Rose' fit her like a ring.

Once trepidation emerged from her in regards to tagging alongside me, I sobered in expression, although the glimmer of mirth never left my eyes.
In my perspective, it seemed she engaged in a tug-of-war on how to proceed with my proposition. Yes or no, yes or no.
Ah, and it did not dazzle me that she retained reluctance, and I dare not push, however, I could not force myself to quieten.
"Sure, you don't know squat about me, yet I can tell you likely don't play it fast and loose too often, so, why not try? Anyway, routines are stale, break them, or-"

Now, I dawdled, looked at the vast star-speckled sky, inspired crisp air.
"Remain here; I give you options, not commands."
At that moment, I felt a relentless itch to slink away, with her in tow, if my preference mattered. Furthermore, I pondered that when I find a moment amidst this all, I will do another line and intrigue flourished on if I could manage to get Rose to partake. Unlikely.

If anything, she would be obstinate, and despite the dimming of my high, there is no lack of entertainment in our banter. All in all, differing it up by conversing with someone so varying in inclinations than me is stimulating enough I can tolerate doing without the pursuit of intoxication. Even my migraine had dissipated.
"What's it going to be, Rose? To go, or to stay?"
If we touched base prior and you're hella interested still, please, please PM me! I am an anxious noodle and can be forgetful. I never ghost on purpose and I try to seldom do so! But life can happen.
also, I delete comments after awhile for tidiness.
 
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Xafin

One Time Luck
Your writing is truly very intimidating, but I am intrigued by a lot of your plot points and settings! I love post-apocalyptic settings myself, and the Last of Us is one of my favorite video games, so I was immediately drawn to your post. I was uncertain if you wanted a PM or a comment, so I'm commenting (and hope that's okay!) because your writing is so gorgeous? I really liked the utopia plot, but I'm uncertain if I could truly keep up with your writing, haha. I'm new to the site (obviously) and would love to get to know you and your writing better. I'm interested in RPing with you, is what I'm trying to say. Let me know, I guess.
 

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