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Entry tags:
- ! mod event,
- arknights: shalem,
- bleach: grimmjow jaegerjaquez,
- bleach: jugram haschwalth,
- danganronpa: fukawa toko,
- encanto: bruno madrigal,
- ennead: set,
- fe3h: claude von riegan,
- fe3h: felix hugo fraldarius,
- ffvii: vincent valentine,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- genshin impact: the traveler (lumine),
- hades: zagreus,
- htwmho: rudbeckia de borgia,
- jjk: fushiguro megumi,
- jjk: itadori yuuji,
- naruto: uchiha sasuke,
- orv: han sooyoung,
- orv: jung heewon,
- shadow and bone: the darkling,
- stranger things: steve harrington,
- the last of us: joel miller,
- vld: keith
(no subject)
I. PUSHING UP DAISIES
cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror
The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.
It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:
II. DO NOT PASS GO
cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity
Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.
If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.
When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.
III. TO THE RESCUE
cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror
The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.
It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:
► PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION & REQUITED LOVE
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.
► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.
► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.
if your character has heard of similar diseases in their home world, they're absolutely welcome to share their insight on the netherwork or anywhere else
the evolution of the disease can be as gradual, as fast or as severe as you wish it to be
a mini quest to retrieve ingredients for a cure will be available in december or january
by february, all characters should be cured
II. DO NOT PASS GO
cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity
Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.
If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.
When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.
► Ironically, a magical barrier around the Gallows prevents magical/spiritual abilities from functioning. However, characters who roam free still can absolutely sneak in! Be careful not to get caught, though!
► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!
Luckily for you, there are so many prisoners it's a difficult task for the Hierarchy to always keep track of all of them. Your brand, however, is a dead giveaway, so you might as well try and find a way to get rid of it; you might hear through the grapevines that the dead skin of Badaliscus can be used as bandages, and overtime, the brand will fully heal and disappear.► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!
III. TO THE RESCUE
As you attempt to escape, or perhaps once you’ve successfully snuck in, you come across a terrifying spectacle: in front of you, impaled through the shoulder by a spear, a weary humanoid figure covered in blood. The body is being restrained by additional shackles on each arm and leg, which are linked to chains anchored within the walls. There's a guard nearby, armed to the teeth… and still you decide to free them.
The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.
The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”
Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”
It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.
The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.
The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”
Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”
It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.
so you’ve chosen to free him, which in turn has generated a future plot point that’ll occur some time in february. some of you WILL see him again.
what he says to you is a clue.
you can answer his question OOCly right here. it’ll have some bearing on the way your character will be approached re: future plot point.
if you've voted no and would still like to participate, you could always allow your character to be convinced or reluctantly dragged by another!
ooc note
► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► You'll find already answered questions just here, and if you'd like to ask new ones, ask them here!
► For fun's sake and similarly to the puck adventure, you may play it out in different groups or on your own, and still obtain the same results as everyone else whether your characters threaded together!
For Lottie ❤️ cw: hanahaki
Her first cough is a wee clearing of the throat. Nothing special.
She turns the page. Sniffles. Reaches for her tea and finds it emptied.
Then there's a second bout, phlegmatic and harsh. Fukawa puts the book down to wedge her mouth in the crook of her elbow. It tapers off with a snotty wheeze and a long groan.]
L-Lottie, is there any hot water left?
[At least she's not sneezing.]
no subject
[ There's a scrambling coming from the kitchen, a hiss and then a cough, before She emerges in all her raggedy At Home™ glory, donning a face mask and a kettle in hand. The kitchen gloves she wears is, at best, comical in size, but homely all the same — it unintentionally sells the sight of Lottie clad in an apron, already dirty from her attempts at making homemade (clean, germ free) bread.
It went.. Alright. The mess is still cooling on the countertop, as she wanders up and around the coffee table. It is a slow, and careful, process she partakes in when she pours that water into the cup (a pretty floral design, simple in nature and a lovely subdued blue in color). ]
Do you need more teassues— I mean, tissues?
no subject
What were you doing? [Oh. That smell.] Y-you're baking again aren't you. Did it work this time?
[She moves her cup into place, giving a curt nod in thanks.]
I'm g-good. There's still space on the last one.
[Cut to a thoroughly rumpled and soiled tissue on the side of the saucer. Only one inch of a corner has been left unscathed.]
no subject
This is still having space?!
[ Lottie is completely scandalized — how is she even holding it without touching all the gross parts!!!! She's got goosebumps — ]
It's okay to use more!
no subject
[Why is she reacting like she dropped a dead mouse on the table? Fukawa claps the book shut and scowls.]
I'm n-not going to be wasteful, I'll grab a new one when I'm finished. Don't m-make mountains out of molehi—
[Cue coughing fit. It's deep and raspy this time, and she has to hurl her face in the opposite direction. Though she valiantly shields it with her arm she'll need the napkin to clean up. Fukawa pats around blindly for it, still hacking away.]
no subject
I got tons of tissue boxes specifically for this.
[ This is a lie. This was actually all for herself and allergy season, but a small white lie can't hurt!! And for good measure, she grabs a tea bag from their stash nearby and dips it into her cup. ]
It's okay to waste a little!
no subject
But fine, she takes the new tissue and makes immediate use of it. Her fit appears to die down, but she is no less a mess for it. Fukawa grumbles behind the frail white veil.]
Th-this is so stupid. How are we getting sick in Hell? [Or whatever this is supposed to be.] I seriously f-feel like this is all just some...some sick experiment...just a b-big cosmic joke. I barely feel d-dead at all.
[Get your tin hat on Lottie. We're going down a rabbit hole.]
no subject
It's not like any of us knew what being dead was supposed to be anyway?
[ She pauses after saying that. In fact, she pauses right when she's about to start a brand new sentence, but then stops. Slams her jaw shut and looks.. Contemplative. ]
Uhh.. Wait, no, I actually do? I mean, if we're dead and technically not alive, we'd be ghosts, right?
no subject
Right?
[Fukawa leans forward, wiping again before setting the tissue aside. This is real talk time. No colds allowed.]
I still don't know if I b-believe in — though I guess there's been enough supernatural crap by now that I should. [How annoying. Ghosts may in fact be real.] At least we'd be something incorporeal.
[Then her nose rumples. Hold up.]
Did you s-say you would know?
[As in, having prior experiences with the dead?]
no subject
[ She is, of course, trying to play this off like it wasn't completely terrifying and traumatic for her to go through, because Lottie is cool. And definitely doesn't panic about things, obviously. And while she isn't going to explain much of the nuance of those feelings she went through when it happened, she knows this might sound weird to her. Or scary? Overwhelming? They're talking about death, after all..
Lottie waves a hand nonchalantly, adjusting the mask on her face so it no longer sits crooked. ]
A ghost girl haunted me for a weekend once.
no subject
A weekend.
[Weirdly specific, but okay.]
Just — haunted how? And don't give me any stories about lights f-flickering or suspicious sounds. That's all just overactive imaginations in the dark. Did you actually see this ghost?
no subject
[ Actually, not an important detail.... But one that comes out regardless. ]
She followed me around all day and night pretty much.. I even saw an article talking about her murder after she started haunting me. Her photo was right there and everything.
no subject
[HORNY???????
Though she is immediately taken aback, there is a sudden curiosity that follows. Her attention is lost to the middle distance, pondering the possibilities. Imagine: Byakuya-sama as a lovelorn spectre, hungering for a final taste of virginal flesh to put him at ease. Whispers of fingers drawn down her neck, the edge of her collar bone. Buttons come undone by an invisible hand, the press of skin on skin when no one was there...
...
Oh right Lottie.]
I don't. Um. [Excuse her, banishing visions of an intangible Togami returning for one last bone.] W-was she, a-heh, c-could anyone else see her or...was it like wh-what happened at the festival?
no subject
..Only I could see her. So, yeah.
[ She is doing both of them the courtesy of just brushing past that stutter (she's doing this for You Toko, because she has Been There), ]
I was by myself in our hotel room and she just appeared in my mirror all bloody and stuff. I totally thought I was gonna die but then she asked what brand my facemask was, I think? She was like.. A hot ghost. Apparently she was an influencer who just traveled all around the country and blogged up a storm on places..
no subject
That's...awfully casual for a ghost. [Like, she would think it was joke? If Lottie was remotely inclined to the comedic she'd call her out at once, but even she can read between these lines. This is a tale told with the hesitation of someone who's scared of how it's coming off.]
Okay, so. Why? Wh-why was she haunting you, specifically? [Fukawa's nose wrinkles and she shakes her head. "Influencer" is a concept she'd needed explained to her (she hated it), so it was clearly a very modern ghost. The odds that Lottie inherited the spook with her living space are minimal.] W-was she...was her body in your trash can, or something? How did she die?
no subject
[ Is her immediate response. ]
She told me she was murdered. One day she disappeared but no one noticed until it was too late. The motel she was staying at was the last place anyone ever saw her, and the five-star hotel I was staying at was built on top of it! And, get this. Her murderer was at our convention. Talk about visiting old haunting grounds, right?
As for why me.. [ She crosses her arms, looking strangely contemplative. ] I don't know. Maybe I was too close to it all. Or maybe I don't get anything.. Even I haven't figured it out.
no subject
Really?
[Really really.
The logistics of it all are far too stupid to be fabricated, which makes it both more credible and more insulting. What business did any of this supernatural crap have existing when it was so half-assed? And with a cheap plot twist too. Fukawa's face falls in horror.]
You m-mean you met her murderer?
[GASP.]
Is th-that how you died? Or think you died?
[Being that it's all so nebulous and wishy washy.]
no subject
[ She crosses her arms. ]
They were just kinda walking around, I guess.. Doing stuff. Living their life.
[ That's right.. Nothing happened. Or, well, stuff did happen, just nothing particularly relevant to this murderer specifically. Or Lottie's own maybe murder?! Unless she died of natural clauses (unsure). She shakes her head, ]
My "death" is like waayy after that. We ended up just enjoying the hotel and then went back to LA. Traffic sucked. [ Although.. Hm, that does remind her.. ] How did you die?
no subject
So what was the point of it all, then? You didn't report them? [The natural conclusion, even if she scoffs after.] Th-though I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. The police can't be trusted with anything.
[A universal truth.
She doesn't get an explanation of how Lottie died, which is suspicious, and is instead ordered to cough up her own bloody tale. Fukawa squawks, head bobbing back.]
Wha— I d-don't know! I just showed up here and I don't remember anything! [There's a pause. She nibbles her thumb as she focuses on the arm of the couch. She's almost talking to herself instead of Lottie.] Though...I guess I could have been killed by a Monokuma or something. Maybe one of the children got me...or an angry adult...
[There were ample opportunities to die in Towa City.]
no subject
(Also the only cop that was there was desperately trying to hit on her. So Fukawa is right, police can't be trusted with anything! Not even investigating.) ]
That's.. A lot of things to get hypothetically killed by?
[ Lottie desperately wants to ask about what ""child"" would commit murder, but maybe that's a bit too personal, so she plants her behind on the coffee table and slouches. Rests her elbows on her thighs before planting her head in her hands. ]
Are you sure it couldn't have been by something normal? Like food poisoning?
probably dangan spoilers from here on, not that anyone is reading this log anymore
Yeah. There's lots that c-can kill you in an apocalypse.
[She says matter-of-factly. Then halts. Has she mentioned that to Lottie before?]
Um — I mean. Uh. [Oh boy. She starts picking at the peeling veneer on their thrifted coffee table.] So, I was s-sort of involved in a dangerous situation back home. If I got food poisoning after everything that would b-be completely humiliating! But...at least it would have been a cleaner death than being chopped up or tortured.