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Multiple Settings ꧁༒༺ barbed wire ༻༒꧂ 》》𝒶𝒹𝓋𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹|

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R o t

no more alone or myself could i be
𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 》》 sneaks black and white GIF by Jamie Wolfe
Hey there, I'm Rot, and this is my tiny corner where I am seeking stories bridled with angst, tension, and turbulence.
With or without reprieve and happy-endings.
I'm seeking fellow "advanced" writers for these tales. You can be concise, or more flowery, I am a fan of many styles of writing.

As for tidbits about myself, I'll dig into that.
black and white flowers GIF
》i'm 27, transmasc, an artist, and sleepy. casual asf OOC. formal IC.
》subjectively advanced, more of a detailed writer but also a believer in quality over quantity. i lean towards male mains but can play a wide array of characters.
》ghost-friendly. i don't think you owe me an explanation should you need to poof, and will only wish you the best.
》sickly. please respect that my chronic health issues can impact my activity. i will communicate with you as needed.
》OOC fan to the end. i find i can't connect with a roleplay if some form of OOC doesn't exist.
》down to earth, chill. a gamer. huge on music too, as i tend to draw an immense amount of inspiration from lyrics and the vibe of a song.
》i love mood boards, playlists, anything of the sort. i gush over roleplays and characters.
》LGBTQA+ & any form of respectful representation is really big to me. i do not tolerate bigotry. this doesn't mean i won't do het pairings, tho.
》can double, but i prefer running 1 main and filling the world with side characters. avid world builder, character developer, plotter, collaborator, and all that good shit.
》i will roleplay sensitive topics, but do require them to be given the respect they do deserve and handled as they should
》no big triggers to mention, but if something comes up, i will let you know.

post-apocalyptic/dystopic/false utopia vibes, heartbreak, bitter, unresolved feelings, fading friendships, rivalry, toxicity, addiction, neurodivergent, paranormal, supernatural, cryptids, tension, resolution, death, grief, road trip, two souls escaping together, adversity, survival/surviving, life after death, red string of fate, soulmates, crime, noire, slow-burn, gritty and dark, mystery, thriller, exploration of the human psyche, revenge, moralistic complexity, phobias, Stephen King-inspired, ancient beings beyond a mortal's grasping, cults, sexuality and coming to embrace it, mending, exes, ex-best friends, mountainous struggles, resolutions, immortality, a vast contrast in lifestyles.


"Don't leave."
"I know you still love me.
"Did you mean the things you said?"
"I'm scared of the future but the past has wearied me."
"You could've died, you know."
"Thanks for nothing."
"I woke up and you were gone."
"You are a monster."
"I don't have a choice- I never had."
"You need to believe me, please!"
"I don't need your misplaced concern, I need to get the job done."
"Hey, hey, hey. I've got you. I have got you."
"I'll do this if it kills me."
"I promise you: your head is the only thing spinning right now."
"I will not be the one to slow us down."
"I don't have the energy to waste arguing with you."

》songs for inspiration:

Mind Over Matter - Young the Giant
Pet - APC
Passive - APC
Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead
Skip Divided - Thom Yorke
Otherside of Paradise- Glass Animals
Dear Fellow Traveler - Sea Wolf
Prom Dress - mxmtoon
No Vacancy - RKS
First Class - RKS
Geyser - Mitski
Washing Machine Heart - Mitski
Agnes - Glass Animals
Death of a Bachelor - P!ATD
No Children - The Mountain Goats
Run - Joji
Yeah Right - Joji
Demons - Joji
Modus - Joji
Mad World - Gary Jules
Drugdealer - Macklemore ft. Ariana DeBoo
Hungover in the of Dust - Autoheart
Do You Feel It - Chaos Chaos
Hurt - Oliver Tree
No Below - Speedy Ortiz
Andy, You're a Star - The Killers
Have to Drive - Amanda Palmer
Great White Bear - Dear Reader
Lover, I don't have to Love - Bright Eyes
Lua - Bright Eyes
Amen - Amber Run
I Found - Amber Run
...and seriously, I had to stop myself, just HMU in this arena, I've oodles of songs I/we can draw inspiration from.

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. It 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 fingers, Elias forged ahead through the bitter frost, teeth chattering between 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 engaged in conversation and speaking utterances Elias was too far away 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."

The ferocity of his vindictiveness might take back even the sturdiest of souls, and more than an eternity did he predict that venom might seethe. All brought to a boil and encouraged by his continual fractious mood at the hand fate dealt. Bitter to an acridity, Elias became entranced by an ire that burned until it was an all-consuming wildfire.

So vexed, often did he become blind to the reasonings behind his fall from the bliss of Heaven.
The lapse of time only reinforced his warped view, and oh, how the days trickled by at a grating pace.

Torn from his back, they plucked his wings, rend his flesh, and left him with two jagged scars almost symmetrical. A reminder and he loathed it.

Ah, how the apple of sin had tempted.
Prior, finding his two feet planted in front of the notorious pearled gates astounded him. There stood the barriers where approval or denial for clearance of entry to a supposed magnificent world occurred. Meanwhile, it lingered above the desolation and wickedness of the Earth, untouchable by iniquity and devilry.

Without the ability to serve God, once stripped of his wings, Elias fumed as the world spun. When he again stumbled to the mortal realm, it was with rivulets of blood seeping from gashes and amidst times of dire calamity. A fatal illness overtook the blooming city of London where, after traversing through forestry, he came to this place, a stranger amidst tumultuous waves of agony all around.

In observing the turmoil, it wavered his once indisputable faith in God. Now leading him astray, no longer entangled in religion. Once billows of clouds obscured him from the reality of trekking the Earth. Now he knew its soil.
Prior, the feuds between demons and angels seized his engagement that he spent little time shepherding mortals.

However, an occupational shift proved to be his eventual downfall.
With a mass of angels gearing to confront the denizens of Hell, angels became needed to mold into the role of guardians to souls who strayed from the flock.
There, he faltered, careless and frigid toward the aim to guide humankind. Although he did not challenge the agenda or grouse. Instead, he opted to worsen the circumstances of those he guarded in manners, not at once clear, held secret. Fit and groomed for war; he did not dote upon humanity, nor divert any shred of energy into the effort of conforming sinners to saints.

In particular, he grew a morbid taste in seeing mortals fail, engaging in trickery and dealings that doomed their souls. In part, the perverse allure flourished from boredom. As he was a soul restless and harboring a blooming distaste toward humans.
The judicial system guided by the hand of God determined such deeds ruinous enough they rid him of his wings and left him to rot in the mortal realm.

Sure, he was culpable for it, yet it embittered him all the same. So, he scrutinized, analyzed, at first in isolation from a collective he scorned. However, he made ventures into London, where many were ailing.
Driven by the decision to turn his tattered back to God, Elias took a role. Plague Doctors, as called by the desperate- the beginnings of his shamming of the naïve.
For all he knew, God had abandoned those who succumb as the disease rampaged. Despite being a fallen being from Heaven, he knew not the exact motives of the one who crafted the world he trod.

In part, the visage of the fragility of those stricken with the plague softened the more hardened portions of his character. Together, it appeared God abandoned both those riddled with the pandemic and himself. So, despite his proclivity to sucker in mortals with a ruse, there were some of which he eased in their passing. A sense of mutuality altered his whims.

Regardless, soon the sickness dissipated after reaping many lives, and Elias discovered himself left to face time and thus blend into era after era.
Meanwhile, he stuck to his shifty ways, while adopting varying masks and personalities throughout the centuries.
Split between aversion and a conflicting curiosity, woven with complexity served as an apt descriptor for Elias’ relationship with humankind.

In the present tense, he lived in a more modern era and styled to suit it. Little did age affected his features. Instead, he looked within his twenties.
To meld into society, whatever its state, became a skill of his, if not a necessity. Not that he reckoned his fall from grace was convincing to most, and he dare not unravel his tale to mortals.

However, today he pursued a particular quarry, one he caught the simplified tale of through a little vile and demonic birdy, as it was. Still, there lay potential in using her and a probability to manipulate depending on the level of gullibility she had. Since learning about her, he had heard whisperings that uniqueness came attached to her character. Although, in what manner, Elias knew not.

However, he caught her trail: a quaint library where she must maintain feigned imagery of normality, or so he presumed, yet that was a game of wait and see.
Rather fortuitous, he caught the slightest glimpse of her, after a hunt that extended for a damn long time.
There were things he coveted from her, and to play a puppeteer was elementary to him. Now, pulling her strings? That matter differed.

Instead of falling into the trap of ruminating on how to get what he wanted from her, Elias came to the doors of the library carrying himself with both pep and confidence. This was invigorating.
Although to his dismay, Mavis, as he came to identify her name ages ago, sat upon the roof. With a sliver of vexation, he recognized this complicated the matter a touch, yet his resolve did not abate.

So, a bit of stealth became required and his inclination to take up such a challenge wavered not. After entering the library, Elias feigned perusing the multitude of books until he came to a door marked employees only.
Not that he gave a shit. And thus he, with apt slyness, opened the door and slipped in, coming to stairs that led upward.
After venturing up the stairs, he halted at an opening and inspired the crisp, morning air.
There sat Mavis.

This was not how he envisioned them meeting, yet no urge to grumble about it arose. Perhaps this was easier.
Instead of sitting beside her, he leaned on a wall near the opening, dug in his pocket, and clutched a packet of cigarettes where he drew on to his lips after a flick of flame lit it from his lighter.
With a click of his tongue in a tsk, he spoke after an extended drag, exhaling twirling smoke.
“Mavis, Mavis, Mavis, and how I’ve sought you for a while, and here you are, in plain sight. Life is something, isn't it?”
rain GIF
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R o t

no more alone or myself could i be
》》and when the seasons change, will you stand by me?
cuz, I'm a young man built to fall.

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R o t

no more alone or myself could i be
》》Throw me in the deep end,
I’m ready now to swim,
The air in my lungs,
May not last very long,
But I’m in.

opening for a few folks.

R o t

no more alone or myself could i be
》》I couldn't help but ask,
For you to say it all again,
I tried to write it down, But I could never find a pen
I'd give anything to hear,
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made

uwu, catching up on PMs since this week was my BIRFDAY but lil nudgin'.

R o t

no more alone or myself could i be
》》And I just wish I could go outside
Without this fear of harm
And I should probably see a counselor
Cause I don't feel too well
And why am I always the bad guy
When I just try to help
This body means nothing to me
At all

please have patience with me, but please also know you're always welcome to poke me, i won't get upset.
dealing with depression, but writing is how I cope alongside drawing so, well, I'm totally wanting to put my all into some roleplays.

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