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Entry tags:
- !event,
- 2064 rom: turing,
- dangan ronpa: hajime hinata,
- dangan ronpa: kiyotaka ishimaru,
- dangan ronpa: kokichi ouma,
- dangan ronpa: shuichi saihara,
- elsword: clamor ventus,
- elsword: noah ebalon,
- fate: sherlock holmes,
- hanako-kun: nene yashiro,
- mo dao zu shi: meng yao,
- my hero academia: shoto todoroki,
- red dead redemption: arthur morgan
May event/tdm
Golden Week (closed to current characters)
On the 28th, Aiko Okane's body is returned to the auditorium, rotten and still thawing when the first student walks in upon her and screams themselves hoarse. She is swiftly removed and the auditorium is closed for the rest of the day for deep cleaning, the smell of disinfectant lingering for days after. In honor of the late student council president, a gorinto is later set up on one of the windowsills in the art room, stones perpetually damp and causing those who touch it to experience vivid flashbacks of flashing strobe lights so bright it's nauseating, a spinning room, hands covered in soot, a shadow moving from behind a bookcase, sharp pain in the back of the head—-
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
05/06 06:00 (open to all)
You open your eyes.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
05/08 16:27 (open to all)
After school on the 8th, when Clamor is headed up the second floor stairwell to the clocktower, he'll find that the door doesn't push in easily, as if there were something blocking it. A harder push and he dislodges something heavy, dark red blood pouring out from the open door to soak through his shoes and those of anybody nearby as the world spins and pitches and falls apart.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
OOC
- ✽ This event log doubles as a TDM, with new characters experiencing the recurring feeling of drifting in (school life) and out (canon life) of sleep up until they "open their eyes," after which they will have full awareness and come to their senses. Pre-established cr is possible to some extent, as a varying degree of familiarity may remain, but all characters will be strangers to one another unless they know each other in canon.
- ✽ A new closed prompt will go up on the 10th for auction results and body investigation, and on the 31st for the student council assembly.
- ✽ After the 8th, any blood spilled in the school will result in characters in the vicinity seeing its transformation into a dilapidated version of the same building. Nearby npcs turn into shadows, while nearby pcs are brought into the other world together. Finding a mirror and breaking it will return the character to where they originally were, as if no time had passed.
- ✽ The layout of the transformed school is exactly the same as the original, with inaccessible locations remaining inaccessible. The exception is the auditorium which has been replaced by a void, and fully stepping into the void will result in permadeath and a drop from the game. TDM characters may step into the void as their "exit" any time during the month, but if they are apped into the game, that death will not be considered canon.
- ✽ Applications are always open on a rolling basis. The player cap is currently set at 40, but will lowered to 30 in June.
i went like a week without these two and died so I'm here to repent
It doesn't bug me.
[He's going to skip entirely over the part where he's used these selfsame shadows to absolutely murder the shit out of some mutants back home and instead make the cats rub against Nene. They feel, uh... a little odd, in his opinion. Weirdly soft, which a shadow shouldn't be, but also slightly ephemeral. It's not a feeling Noah's ever been able to describe, and if he was ever asked what the shadows currently wreathing around his arm feel like, he... still wouldn't be able to describe it. Sort of like mist, he supposes? A little weird, a little intangible, the works.]
...you're okay, right? You're not, u-um... like... [and here's the part where Noah struggles to speak again,] ...you don't feel bad or anything?
[There's no word in his vocabulary for "suffering from a mental health crisis or other related incidents", so that'll have to do.]
ur so goddamn valid and hey noah now has some idea as to what nenes talking about in the future
( she bursts into distracted giggles at the cat's attentions, though. it is weird! like if mist were more tangible, or clouds, she thinks. it's doing wonders for bringing her back to reality... even if her hand hurting keeps reminding her of the truth. )
can't wait for him to be like hey nene guess what I fought the void and she's like, boy you WHAT
He's not going to... tell Nene he thinks she got grabbed by a cult, but he looks her over like he's expecting to see the corruption on her body like what Ain had, and all he sees is—]
H...hey, uh? Your hand... Did you get hurt in there? Hold... hold on, I might have bandages on me.
[And he digs in his pockets for a moment, letting the shadow-cats kind of just idle while he's searching. He usually has gauze on him for Recklessness reasons. Maybe the cut doesn't exactly need more than a simple band-aid slapped on it, but Noah's pulling a roll of gauze out anyway.]
I can wrap it for you, if... if you want. It'll be easier than trying to do it yourself.
g o d...
( there's no actual injury. just the pain one might feel if they were to break glass with their bare hand. yikes.
this really is a terrible place. )
no subject
[Noah usually has a kneejerk response like that to literally any injury, coming from the background he does, but if Nene doesn't need the overkill that is wrapping her hand up with gauze, that's good. Honestly, thank Elria.
Injuries aside, that's still a little... concerning, is the only word that Noah's brain can come up with in the moment. He gets it, he gets not feeling like oneself, he understands that whole thing on an emotional level. It's just... articulating that and trying to be any form of comfort is lost on him.
So, instead of that, Noah slowly puts the gauze back in his pockets and starts puppeteering the cats again. Might as well keep the mood up.]
It's, uh... I'm just glad you're okay now. I'm glad you're not still there.
no subject
( but she'll take cat distractions happily! can she hold one...? she wants to try... but instead, for now, nene sits down among the shadow cats like a disney princess might. )
Ah... I wonder what brought your powers back though? In a good way! This is so exciting!!
no subject
So, he sits next to her, where she can absolutely hold a shadow cat if she wants to. It's like holding a fairly solid ball of mist. Sadly, they don't purr. Truly a tragedy.]
I don't really know... I woke up one morning and they were just, u-um... back? I can probably fight with them again too. I just need to find, um... just... one other thing, and I'll feel a lot safer.
no subject
( she's definitely holding a shadow cat, cradling it against her chest and petting it. it's soothing, especially after the trip into that weird hellworld. leaning against him, she sighs. )
What thing? Maybe I'll be able to help.
no subject
Oh, u-um... [404, Noah not found. They're touching shoulders and he has to shut down for legitimately five seconds before his brain catches up.] ...if the school really were haunted, at least we'd have more of an explanation for what's going on. But seeing ghosts still sounds scary, and I don't know what a ghost would look like from this place, so... maybe it's better that way.
[He's just going to assume that everything here is horrible. Like, there's going to be some horrid headless ghost or something walking around.]
But, uh... the thing I'm looking for is called a Moonstone. It's... it's something my brother invented before, uh... he got assassinated. [Oof. But he might as well come clean to someone besides Clamor about his sordid past.] It's this dark blue gemstone that has this moon-shaped gold bezel type of thing around it. I had it on my person before waking up here, and I have no idea who took it, but...
...maybe this will sound weird, but whenever I have it on me and I'm in some great danger — like, about to die or something — it sends me to a different timeline.
[And that's... sort of a lot to dump on someone who's already stressed the fuck out for her own reasons, so Noah stops there and looks very apologetic afterwards.]
no subject
Yeah... Though, I can see what's doing all those awful pranks. Not that I can really stop them from targeting other people...
( the imps accept bribes, but only from the briber.
listening, and unaware of the effect that the Lean has on noah, nene frowns. assassinated...? that explained a bit... but even she knows that's not the whole story. and given how anxious he was... gosh. he didn't deserve this. no one did. )
I'll keep an eye out for it, promise.
no subject
[And that's really all Noah can say on the topic. He's just amazed he's not being asked about being yeeted around through different timelines for the last while. It's weird and comforting to not have that be a thing now — half the reason he started journaling in the first place was because his already-fragmented memories in tandem with jumping through various timelines without his permission were all becoming impossible to parse. But, at the same time, not having the Moonstone is a bit of an inconvenience in that if he winds up getting irreparably injured, he's not coming back from that.
...then again, he's not even sure if the Moonstone will work properly in here. Truth be told, he doesn't want to find out. Dying and nearly dying are both very unpleasant things.]
So... uh, you can see the things doing the pranks? [Beat.] I haven't been... I mean, I sort of... wasn't all there for a while, so I don't really remember much of the last week or when they popped up. And I haven't seen anything anyway...
no subject
( at his comment, however, nene frowns- did. did she really not notice that he was so affected? almost immediately, she shifts to give him a hug. )
Are you okay? We can go to the nurse and see if she'll let you nap a bit...
no subject
Oh, u-uh... it's okay. I don't sleep well most of the time anyway.
[He returns the hug, though he's a little slow to do so. Most nights, Noah wakes up shrieking due to night terrors, and even though the silence of night prevents his screaming from waking others, his thrashing about and the fact that he usually has to get up and go on a walk afterwards typically rouses at least one person. He's sorry, people who sleep in his homeroom. He might just take to sleeping in the hallways from now on.]
It's, um... whatever was going on with the mists after those people came in and tried to kill all the rats messed with my head. That's all. I blacked out — not literally, but mentally — and all I can really remember is the visions and trying to talk to Clamor about them. I... think I wasn't eating much either? I really don't remember.
no subject
I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that...
no subject
So, he's not going to drag Nene down, he decides; instead he simply bonks his head into her shoulder and uses her as a pillow.]
It's... it's okay. I'm fine.
[No??? No.]
It's over now. I think it's just been a bad month, but it's not the first time I've dealt with something like that. I'll be okay.
no subject
... If you're not, you can come to me, okay? We don't have to do anything, just rest a bit. Okay?
( because she can scream it until she's red in the face, but that won't mean he'll accept it when she tells him that his problems do matter, that it's okay to show he's hurting. so instead, she offers this: quiet, calm and warmth. )