HIGHER ● MARCH 2026 EVENT/TDM

[uruz]

TDM & EVENT: HIGHER

Watch on YouTube

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Prologue: New Characters

You sleep, and the dream returns— everyday, if you're amongst the living. Repeating as an endless limbo, if you find yourself amongst the fallen. It always begins the very same way: Silence so heavy it gnaws at your bones. A ripple moves through your nerves and shivers the flooding water pooling at your heels. A tide builds, familiar now. Black, soundless, thick like oil and starlight swelling across the horizon line you dream of.

You've seen the wave before, always rising higher than the last time you saw it. With every night, it never reaches you, but it gets close. You always seem to wake before it crashes . . . That is, until tonight.

The wave is fast tonight, like something predatory after quick-footed prey. When it finally crashes from the height of two skyscrapers stacked upon each other, you are being taken with saltwater that stings, and a suffocating pressure upon you that feels like your chest is caving, that something is choking you. As it pulls you into its depths, Sleep's voice is immediate and invasive, laced with palpable irritation and a demanding authority:

"You would leave Me? After all I have given? After all we have been through? Return, For Me Give Me everything."

In that harrowing moment, before you can scream or even object through the foam and endless ocean whirls, something profound is taken from you— a fleeting spark of your past self is your entry fee into Sleep's playground. You aren't granted ascent by her claim, given something forcefully wedged into your vitae and yanked into the deeper dreamscape by Her aggressive will.

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You Won't Begin Again

All Vessels awaken within a ceremonial city at the foot of an impossibly tall tower.

Stone keeps and vaulted bridges rise in medieval splendor, their silhouettes broken by glowing seams of sigil-light that run like circuitry through the masonry. Banners flag overhead like a welcoming hallway, embroidered with symbols that shift when not directly observed. Lanterns float without flame and faceless children guffaw past your legs. It seems a festival is in full bloom, loud and jubilant, yet the fun loving beats and strumming lutes carry a hollow echo, as if the seemingly lively village is rehearsing joy rather than truly feeling it.

As the dream settles, you may find yourself within a role, imposed based on what you are.

Offerings may notice they are suddenly clad in armor despite any bodily changes, now Cavaliers. Steel shapes itself to their bodies perfectly, colored and etched according to who they are as a person. Weapons rest easily in their hands, chosen without conscious thought and feeling right in their palms, be it the hilt of an axe, rapier, spear or so on. Their posture is straight, and service feels instinctive to them now. Obedience will hum warmly beneath their flesh, begging to be used, but their monstrous instinct lay intact, snarling under the metal and anxious, anticipating the chaos that's soon to come.

Tokens, on the other hand, rise as Nobles. Fine fabrics drape their forms while crowns, circlets, and cold jewels press against the throat, head and fingers that are designed as perfect conduits for their sorcery. Authority will radiate from them, subtle but undeniable. When they speak, many, especially Cavaliers, will be urged to listen intently from within the very marrow of their bones. They are strong, commanding beings, and their magic sparks hot at their fingertips— ready for what could possibly be waiting for them.

Each Cavalier is highly sensitive to finding and being sworn to a noble. Some bonds are chosen between a pair immediately, familiarity calling to them like loud sirens. Others may snap into place without your proper knowledge, toward strangers you might feel comfortable with despite only sharing eye contact. Or, perhaps you bond through sheer spite. A luminous bond stretches between them either way, tight as a drawn wire through the chest and alive with currents. Whoever you find, you are now Tethered.

Best prepare yourself. Find your weapon of choice, as well as your partner. Feast, if you'd like. The problem might only be that most of what is offered in festive food stalls are . . . Tadpoles? But you won't try to eat it, will you?

NOTES:

• Nightmares will accompany old and new vessels during the introductory prompt and during the collapse of the dream by the end of the event only. They will not be able to participate in the games themselves, but it will be their introduction to new vessels, and veteran vessels will be able to awaken during next month's event with their Nightmares final form, should they wish.

• The dream vessel NPCs all wear masks and will range from adult, to elderly to child. They will act as shadows of real people and will interact with characters only if prompted. There is something wrong with them though, they seem . . . Too happy, and are very bad at giving directions that don't sound like Sleep propoganda.

• A Cavalier may Tether to more than one Noble and vice-versa, given the nature of a dream and how time interacts with space. Many possibilities may happen at the same time.

• If you decide to eat a tadpole, you will get a random effect assigned by the Mod that may persist for however long you wish. Please comment to the proper top level for your effect.

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Capitulate And Let Me In

( Enforced hierarchy and obedience, psychological manipulation, invasive presence, sensory distortion, environmental horror, body horror, parasitic threat, implied loss of agency and self, forced loyalty, competitive paranoia, betrayal under pressure, dream-incineration, altered resurrection, implied and direct violence )

Eventually, the festival funnels inward, streets narrowing until they open into a colossal coliseum. At its center rises the tower, segmented into ascending levels that vanish into a sky of bruised violet and scarlet hues. The stands are packed with faceless dream-vessels, clapping and roaring in perfect unison.

Massive holograph-like images ignite around the arena, abruptly even. Sleep appears across them, crowned and queenlike and difficult to look upon without feeling like you're going a bit mad, vast and shadowed, her silhouette draped in ceremonial finery that moves as if alive. Free and at her side is the king, One, his crown tarnished, his posture broken, and a faint discord humming from him. Above them hangs a gilded cage, imprisoning the Espera, three songbird muses with torn wings. They look positively riled.

Sleep welcomes you through the Murmur.

"The games may now begin."

She demands loyalty made visible. Devotion proven through action. She looks down upon each and every Vessel at her misty feet and dusts the earth with a sweep of her pitch black wisps— and stops at two striking individuals, her six eyes narrowing until the glare lasers the distinct red glowing from them. At the arena's edge stand two masked anomalies: The numeral Two, dressed as a Noble yet watching the tower rather than Sleep. At his side, the numeral Three, a jester-knight whose bells chime softly, defiant by nature. Three is openly mocking and provoking Her by raising his arms behind his neck to stretch— while both middle fingers pop out of his fist. Two smacks the other's stomach to get his attention— pointing upward to the tower. His indifference bothers the diety most of all, and that very distaste reverberates through every Vessel to the point that the edge to her snarl is palpable. She smooths out, drags a claw down One's face, and commands, as if to show them all who this body belongs to:

"Sing from the heart, My Love."

And so, he begins to sing like an angel trapped in his own prison. The coliseum floor splits open to his harmony, and she bids you all the wealthiest of luck. Worship.

This is the first level of Sleep's proving ground. Pairs are cast upward into a vast, ever-shifting labyrinth woven of stone, light, gnarled flora and living sigils. Walls crawl and rearrange themselves. Floors slide, tilt, and dissolve. Gothic arches loom overhead, studded with crystalline lenses that track movement like watchful eyes. Your objective is an easy one: Reach the labyrinth's exit— presumably its flowered garden center, alive. Two and Three already break for it, calculating and determined, and it may be best you follow their lead.

It would be quite easy if there wasn't an eerie countdown that occassionally flashes cross your vision. What's worse— one of the colesium dungeons yawn wide open, and something slithers out.

It moves like a nightmare perfectly refined for pursuit. Sleek, towering, and insectile, its obsidian body reflects no light. A ridged skull stretches back without eyes, yet it sees everything. Acidic saliva hisses as it drips, eating into stone and armor alike. Its tail coils and lashes with deliberate cruelty. It crawls across walls, impossible gaps, and moves with predatory patience rather than haste. The Cleric has been released to hunt you for sport. If you haven't already— best make a run for it. The creature even gives you a torturous head start to allow her time to drool over your scents, your heartbeats, and your fear.

Scattered throughout the maze are sealed chests bound in iron and runes. Some contain relics, sigil-keys, or volatile artifacts capable of bending a single wall in the labyrinth, sealing passages, or accelerating movement. Others rupture into traps, releasing lesser horrors, creatures or environmental hazards that draw the creature closer.

The closer the countdown gets to zero, the more the walls begin to glow, and the temperature, elevate.

The entire level is preparing to be incinerated.

Reaching the labyrinth's center reveals a grand chamber that appears to be the exit. It is not. Those who work together, using their altered perceptions, may realize the true path upward lies elsewhere, hidden along the labyrinth's unstable outer seams.

Those who complete the goal and ascend rise higher within the tower, while those who fail are consumed by painful dreamfire— But they are not gone. They return on the next level, altered by Sleep's influence, their loyalty sharpened, their doubt dulled. Their presence becomes heavier in the Tether(s) they have, making cooperation more difficult, and trust more dangerous.

NOTES:

• A towering flower, its petals made of solidified light, shimmers through the cracks of the labryinth and wraps around its architecture. Touching it reveals it to be unnervingly soft, like velvet, but it leaves a tingling, almost painful residue on your skin. The air around it smells sweet and intoxicating, but breathing it in makes you feel strangely disoriented.
• As you listen closely to the haunting melody, you can almost hear a faint, struggling note buried deep within it— a desperate, familiar sound trying to break free. It's the echo of One, a faint, lost piece of sanity. Focusing on it briefly clarifies your thoughts, but also makes the beautiful melody feel grating and painful.
• The Cleric is based heavily on the Xenomorph, while the creatures hidden in negative chests are heavily based off of Hammerpedes.

TOKEN EFFECTS:

• For the duration of the dream, Tokens will be able to see shades of scarlet with exaggerated clarity. In the labryinth, there will be small, scarlet arrows hidden in corners or under flora, that may signal the correct path.
• For an act of magical violence in Sleep's name, a Token's connection to the dreamscape intensifies. The light constructs and shimmering flora will work in their favor, creating a small, stable platform for themselves or a minor illusion to distract another Vessel. They will feel a rush of power and their own dream-magic will feel more direct and forceful.
• A Token who uses their magic for an act of bravery or protection will receive a blessing from the Numerals. They gain a moment of profound clarity, allowing them to see through the deceptive illusions of the tower. They may feel a hand on their shoulder, or the cackle of a cockatoo, or the quick stepping afterimage of a white fox leading the way to the true exit. They can perceive the true, broken nature of the collapsing level and can sense the most stable path forward for themselves and a nearby ally.

OFFERING EFFECTS:

• For the duration of the event, Offerings will be able to see in ultraviolet. In the labryinth, there will be small, ultraviolet X marks hidden in corners or under flora that may signal danger or dead ends.
• For an act of physical violence in Sleep's name, a Monster's dream-form transforms to become more predatory and efficient. They might feel a surge of primal energy, their claws or teeth could extend, or their senses could sharpen, giving them an advantage in navigating the treacherous, shifting ground and engaging in conflict.
• An Offering who performs an act of bravery or kindness receives a blessing from the Numerals. Their predatory instincts are momentarily suppressed, replaced by a feeling of profound peace. Their dream-form may either feel momentarily less monstrous or pliant to their wants, and they may gain a fleeting sense of empathy or connection to another Vessel, which feels both comforting and deeply alien.

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'Cause I Am A Danger

( psychological manipulation, violence, religious corruption, moral inversion, enforced separation, sustained tether, self loss, time pressure, disorientation, coerced sacrifice, self harm )

Whether you win or lose, you are ripped from the last level without ceremony, unseen forces yanking you upward like a hooked spine. Your Tethers do not snap, nor loosen, but stretches so suddenly it steals the breath from your lungs. Whatever bound you to your partner still exists. You can feel it. A constant pull behind the ribs, a phantom pressure in the sternum, all tight enough to ache with longing.

Then you land.

Cold, endless corridores, spiral staircases twirling into themselves at angles that should never meet. Doors line the walls in obscene abundance, carved wood, iron, bone, and glass. The air is thin and metallic. One's song is gone. In its place, a frantic ringing invades your eardrums. Not a bell. A broken chime. Metallic, irregular, panicked. A countdown flashes across your vision, unasked for and impossible to ignore, one more time: Ten minutes.

Ten minutes before this level folds in on itself and grinds everything inside into memoryless ruin. It is only a dream. You know this. The thought does nothing to calm the way your heart kicks against your ribs anyway. Sleep does not speak. She does not need to. She instead, suggests the thought: Violence was too easy. Too honest. What she wants now is desecration. To see what goodness looks like when it is cornered. What devotion looks like when it costs something you were sure you would never give. And thus, you are all divided.

Some of you will awaken with a blade in your hand. It is wrong in every way that matters: Pale. Ethereal. Its surface ripples as if water has been touched. Holding it makes your tethers hum louder, sharper, like a nerve being plucked. In this case, you are a Seeker. Sleep knows hesitation cuts deeper when forced to act. An itch crawls up your spine. A hunger blooms that does not belong to you. The blade wants movement. Wants marking. Wants flesh. Somewhere in this second, closed maze is another Vessel, and you are being pulled toward them whether you wish it or not.

The rest of you wake unarmed. around your neck rests a key. Cold. Heavy. Incomplete. You are the Hiders. If you were once predators, you are now stripped of that comfort; Violence will not save you here. Before you stretches an upward spiral of corridors branching endlessly into doors. Hundreds. Thousands. Most are lies. Some will return you to the maze, while others will trap you. Only very few of them ascend to safety. Higher.

There is no fighting your way out; Only running, evading, and thinking.

Your tether drags at you constantly. You can feel your partner(s) somewhere in this place, distant but unmistakable. Fear bleeds across it. Urgency. Hunger. You do not know what role they have been given. You can only feel that they are moving.

Luckily, a voice cuts through the Murmur— Laughing, breathless. Bright with panic and delight all at once.

"Hey there, Noodles, long and short! Hahah—" Perhaps you know him, cackling and bright. He is running when he speaks, you can hear it in the way his voice bounces, in the way he cuts himself off mid sentence to swear. He is not above you. He is inside this with you. "Oh, this is good," he says, almost giddy. "Gods, this is good. Hide and Seek, my friends."

"Games are my thing. Keys," he adds, sharper now, no more preamble. "Not one. Two. I have one. Its wrong, I can feel it— You need a pair. Matching. You need the right person, not just the right door." His voice drops, just a little. "And I think . . . Some of you are hunting the ones you're bound to. Just— Fight back if you can. Don't take it personally if you can't. We can fuck Her up aaaaall we want after, yeah? I'll see you in the skies above."

The connection tightens painfully, and just as quick he is gone.

Seekers feel it spike when they draw close to anyone. The blade sings louder, eager, making no distinction between stranger and partner. Hiders feel the pull and mistake it for pursuit, terror flooding tethers in hot waves. Recognition becomes dangerous, and reunion may become worse, or infinitely better.

Those who find each other and bring the correct pair of keys together feel the tower shudder in reluctant approval. Stone grinds open. Light pours upward. Ascension to the next level follows. Those who fail are not spared— The corridors collapse inward when the timer hits zero, crushing memory and certainty alike. You are shunted forward regardless, marked once more for inaction or weakness. Something breaks in you this time. A name. A voice. A face that no longer feels like yours. Yet, the tether remains. It always will.

NOTES:

• The tether constantly transmits emotion rather than location. Fear, hunger, hesitation, relief. Misreading it is easy and often fatal.
• It is up to you whether you want your character to be a Hider or Seeker, but do note Sleep is more likely to target those who would have more difficulty being a Seeker than not. • Keys feel wrong when held alone. When the correct pair is brought close, they resonate painfully through the chest.

TOKEN EFFECTS:

• If you are a Seeker, violence offered to Sleep in this level alters your casting. Your magic becomes invasive and intimate, blurring hallucination and pain. Illusions may leave lasting psychological scars. Mental bindings whisper guilt, fear, and belief into those caught within them. Her voice never fully leaves your spells afterward, not even in the Waking World.
• If you are a Hider, resisting the hunt calls the Numerals fully to your side. Their blessing manifests as a soundless barrier of radiant inversion, rendering you invisible to any Vessel influenced by Sleep for 60 seconds. You may pass through them untouched for a short time.

OFFERING EFFECTS:

• If you are a Seeker, violence offered to Sleep stretches your form. Teeth lengthen. Blood shimmers like quicksilver. You gain scent tracking keyed to emotion: fear, hesitation, remorse, glowing through stone like veins. You may look more monstrous than ever before.
• If you are a Hider, resisting the hunt calls the Numerals to you. Your monstrous form stills, collapsing into statuesque silence. For a breath, you may phase through walls unseen. When your body returns, something in it is more human than before.

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The Debt That I Owe

( content warnings: dream manipulation, interpersonal violence, enforced rivalry, divine possession, emotional coercion, collapse imagery )

The tower opens at its crown and spills you into the highest place it possesses: a broken, hovering summit where stone hangs suspended in defiance of gravity and light bleeds upward into nothing. There is no sky. No horizon. Only height, pressure, and the sense that there is nowhere left to run.

Sleep waits at the center. She is vast here, coiled in shadow and brilliance, her presence compressing thought and breath alike. One is held upon a pyre above like an offering already half spent, his light unraveling into her in slow, shimmering strands. The Espera hang trapped and trembling, their voices reduced to a thin, strangled vibration in the air.

This is the summit, and what the tower was for. Sleep does not address you. She does not need to. The meaning settles into your chest fully formed: there will be no united stand. No singular enemy. What remains to be proven now is devotion, and devotion is always clearest when it is tested against someone else.

The ground shifts, lines burn into the stone beneath your feet as bonds are dragged into place. Tethers tighten, snapping nobles toward cavaliers, cavaliers toward nobles, sometimes to the ones you climbed beside, sometimes to strangers. Loyalty is not preserved and your history is not respected. The dream rearranges its pieces without the slightest apology.

"Don't give in, Three huffs within The Murmur, hushed and agile. "Just buy me and Two some time."

Once you are paired, you are then turned against each other. Armor hums, weapons manifest, magic stirs, sharp and unstable. You are meant to fight. The tether between you and your counterpart pulls hard enough to hurt, every movement echoed in the ribs, every intention felt like pressure beneath a sea of waves. Sleep does not ask you to reflect on what you owe— instead, She asks you to prove it.

You must pass through each other. Each tethered pair trapped within their own bubbles experience a shared vision— a personalized trial manifested from the debt that you owe. The dream uses your closeness like a wire, and lets the current burn. You may find yourselves:

Repay a Past Debt: You and your tethered partner are plunged into a distorted, dreamlike memory of a profound failure from your past. It's a moment you have tried to forget, a regret that has festered. The challenge is not to simply relive it, but to try and rewrite it, to make a different choice. However, the dream's reality is malleable, and the outcome may still feel like sand slipping through your fingers, leaving you to decide if your struggle is a final act of defiance or a futile attempt to change a history that is already written.

Demand a Payment: This trial manifests as a symbolic space between you and your partner. The dream-space represents a debt one of you owes the other as well, but in a different light, something taken without thanks, a betrayal, or a loyalty never reciprocated. To climb higher, you must demand a payment. Your choice is in how you collect: you can force them to face a painful truth, take a piece of them, or you can . . .

Embrace the Fury: The dream-within-a-dream becomes a surreal arena as a manifestation of pure conflict. You and your partner are pitted against each other, tethered by an inescapable chain of emotion and intention. This trial is meant to push you into a brutal battle for dominance, a physical expression of the "blood and the fury" that has brought you to this point. The victor is the one who forces the other into silence, but you must decide how you will fight: will you let the rage guide your hands, or will you try to find forgiveness and a peaceful resolution in a place where only violence is expected?

As the fighting spreads, something fractures at the edge of the dream—Two tears into the summit behind Sleep, his presence glitching, wrong, bleeding interference into the structure of her domain. He does not hesitate. He throws himself toward One, reaching for him with everything he has left. The moment One sees him, yells behind the bind muffling his voice . . . Sleep turns. Her strike is immediate, corrective. A backlash that sends Two crashing hard across the stone, light scattering from him in broken arcs. He does not rise. One panics, Sleep approaches—

Then laughter cuts through the collapse: Bright, breathless and unafraid. Three is already running when you notice him, all three tails flagging from fox to snow white wings, his voice ringing wild through the open space as fireworks detonate along the tower's spine. The Espera's cage shudders, chains tearing free as the summit begins to give way. She, they, flutter to the downed Numeral, and in a jolt from her touch, Two stirs—

As the tower starts to fall, Sleep's focus splinters. Her hold on One falters as the structure buckles inward, the dream tearing itself apart from the top down; Two releases One, signs something, and tackles him out from the tower's balcony with him. Wake up, Two's urgency chimes. Wake up, One.

As rubble collapses, as plumes of dust and gorgeous sparks of color pop off in every possible direction—

You wake.

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NOTES

➤ Welcome to Somnia's TDM, which doubles as a gamewide event!
➤ This TDM is considered game canon.
➤ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible. Current characters must remain as their chosen Vessel type unless you requested a switch, which can be done on the Taken page.
➤ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!
➤ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!

network ᛗ logs ᛗ ooc ᛗ memes ᛗ navigation

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Comments

FAQ AND QUESTIONS.

[uruz]

Feel free to ask and questions here. Some questions already answered in our plotting post:

● Vessels who cheat to get through the maze (using abilities or dream warping to warp the maze to their favor) will lead either directly to the Cleric or dangerous chest-traps. The more they cheat, the farther away they will get from the true safe zone, and the more likely they are to be incinerated.
● If Vessel use their abilities to help them through the dangers of the trials, they'll find that they will weaken significantly with that use, exposing them to even more dangers.
● You can try to hunt the Cleric, but the Cleric was designed to hunt you.
● Characters already in-game are allowed to request in-person interactions with the NPCs, on the NPC contact page.
● Characters cannot change out of the clothes or armor they are given. If this is attempted, the outfit will fit itself on them anyway. You are allowed to rip or tear your robes, though, and those will remain.
● Tadpoles and other strange foods that you're allowed to dream up are bought with any strange dream currency you can think of, but the default are little coins called Sleep Tokens, because I think myself funny.
● The sudden, forced pairings/tetherings in this event are reserved for the Cavalier/Noble dynamic, although established tethers may still be present— just a little quiet to focus on the new pairs.
● Weapons may only be of the Meelee variety to match the theme.
● Abilities that only change the appearance of the maze/trials, but not its design, does not count as cheating.
● During Hide and Seek, Cavaliers are stripped of their meelee weapons temporarily. The only players allowed to have "weapons" are Seekers.

[snaggletooth]

Listen, they were described as insectile, so I have to ask, would a Swarmling be able to glean anything interesting from the Cleric or hammerpede-creatures via the hivemind echo, insect-like chemosensing, etc.?

Would Ivan's various pheromone signals have any effect on any of them?

[shatteredlenses]

Just checking considering how many ways there are for someone to get hurt in this one: Will wounds incurred during the dream vanish upon waking as they have in the past?

Questions regarding hide and seek and labyrinth CW: Hammerpede Corpse Desecration Discussion

[athinkingreed]

If a hammerpede is killed, could its head be chopped off and its body carried around to be used as a gross acidic marker to melt X’s and O’s into the Labyrinth walls? If so, how fast would that happen? And would it count as cheating for trying to help others?

Would the marks be gone during the next run?

Can other pairs/players be run into in the labyrinth and key sections?

[markingnight]

Hello, I would like to confirm the following please:
- Nobles don't have weapons, only Cavaliers
- Nobles have canon powers available...?
- Seekers don't get a key (is it still possible for them to escape the maze? Or would they have to steal from 2 hiders to get out?)
- Seekers get no blessing from the Numerals for resisting the hunt. Hiders get no blessing from Sleep for committing violence in her name

Sorry for all the questions 😅

[varhellathen]

Hello!! What would someone find if looking for/asking for help from spirits (as a potential necromancer) in the mazes?

[whomthebelltolls]

Yay!

Just a couple further questions that are partially answered, but kinda specific:

- The Cleric can be injured/misdirected/escaped from with some effort, yeah?
- Very specifically to lycans and other shapeshifters (tricksters): Would the armor change to fit between their transformed and untransformed state or would, say, as soon as Maria became a wolf the armor try to keep fitting a human body and thus make her a ten foot tall slavering apex predator that looks like when a grown adult tries to wear toddler's clothes?

[purger]

If a character changes into casual clothes and their previous role clothes reappear on them, is it the same set that they were wearing before (as in, does it disappear from where they put it down when they changed), or does it generate a new set of clothes separate from but similar to the ones they were wearing before?

Like a Pokemon item cloning exploit.

TADPOLE EFFECT RNG.

[uruz]

comment below for a randomized tadpole effect to play with for as long as you want during the event. these effects may temporarily carry over to the waking world next month.

[dethangel]

(bangs fists on the table) tadpole! tadpole! tadpole!

[snaggletooth]

Holds tongue out.

[tequila_sunset]

(clunky armor noises) “let me at one of those bad boys!”

Re: TADPOLE EFFECT RNG.

[merged]

/grabby hands

[for_sake]

opens mouth,

INVITES.

[uruz]

Interested players who do not have mod invites or a friend to get an invite from may comment to this top level to solicit one. We encourage activity on the TDM so current players and Mod may see how you play with the characters and setting, and extend an invite. If you receive an invite from either a current player or the Mod, head on over to the Invite Page to post your invite and have it ready to use for your reserve and app. Please keep in mind that soliciting an invite does not guarantee one.

At this time, there are currently 20 open player slots.

Toki Wartooth | Metalocalypse | current player | ota

[dethangel]

[hello new friends and old friends alike! doing nested prompts, so if none of those are doing it for you, feel free to bring your own prompt, plot with me, or ask for your very own starter here or at agentkaz! extremely happy to go with the flow. plotting post info if you need it.]

You Won't Begin Again (a)

[dethangel]

[Toki walks through the festival, some familiar armor covering his body, a halberd in his hands rather than a sword like the last time he'd worn this getup in a music video years ago. He barely questions why he's wearing it, though. Instead, something calls to him, and he doesn't really question why he feels the need to answer.

While he cuts an intimidating figure with his dark armor and giant tattered wings, he's all kinds of friendly when he runs up to someone with a smile.]

Hi! Do you... do you need a weapons guy?

gorgug thistlespring, dimension 20: fantasy high ( new player - offering: golem )

[tinflower]

INFO.

[ ooc: hi! gorgug here is entirely a golem, and also around 15-16 of age even though nothing physical about his real person will be visible because he's made of stone and has no face beyond his mask. thanks to being thrust into his new form, he's going to be horrendous about how he moves, is loud, doesn't feel anything, so feel free to have your character notice that/suffer that.

just imagine somebody haphazardly made the shape of a person and shoved it in a suit of armour (for those prompts) and that they're over 6 foot tall, and that's what your character is looking at. he's going to have a better time speaking through the psychic link to begin with, which still sounds muffled for the time being.

i'm okay with brackets or prose! just switch to prose if you prefer and i'll follow. ]

1. FIRST TIME CAVALIER ( You Won't Begin Again )

[tinflower]

1. FIRST TIME CAVALIER.

[ There is someone amongst the Vessels, the cavaliers, who stands tall--but not very often, nor very easily.

That straight posture bends easily, fine armour grinding, limbs stiff and awkward. With a height around 6'5", they're noticeable enough for that, but it's perhaps not the thing that sticks out about them: instead, it's how the armour finely juts out in places, smooth yet jagged, wide in some places, then snapping inward in others. The balance is off about them, implying some kind of bulging to their body that can't be seen, exactly. Cancerous? Or something else?

They give it away soon when they move; noisy, metal scraping against stone. Arms swing (hopefully, they don't catch you), before they take a step back (or just lift a foot, really) and then go backwards (a second hopeful: you're not behind them) and then tumble straight down. No grace, no perfection. ]

Heeehhlp, [ muffles from inside their helmet, or perhaps through the psychic link gifted to them all. Because through their visor--or, some luck has allowed it to rise up--they do currently wear a mask that consumes their face: two white dots for eyes against black, and a white sad frown for a mouth. Peak art. ]

Lortel Kehelland | The Extra's Academy Survival Guide | Current Player

[vixenish]

plotting post • siren song permissions • universal DNI/opt-out • heartfuls

ko tenjin | handead anthem | new player | offering: seraph.

[exaltruistic]

— ooc.
////////////////////////////// notes ///////

general info/permissions.

feel free to wildcard a little or a lot.
i'm also open to discussion through PM or plurk ( vandalisto ).
i'm game for all prompts, these are just the ones that pinged me especially.
lmk if you want something specific, i'm happy to be the Starter Guy.

[exaltruistic]

— you won't begin again.
////////////////////////////// festival ///////

( Ko, slight of frame, feels like the daggers in his hand are as fitting for him as they are jarring. He's not a fighter, not the weapon type. Hell, he's never even really held something like that for years — it's just not necessary for him in any sense of the word.

But here — here, after waking up, taken under by a wave heavier than gravity — he feels he feels better about having them than being bereft.

Still. The setting here doesn't yet seem dangerous.

Stranger still is his need to find — looking for the person his heart thrums for. He wants to dedicate himself to them. He wants to serve.

Ko is normally used to the opposite; he's used to being God. He searches, looking more for this person than he wants to engage in any festivities. At one of the stalls, he feels a pull to someone in particular ... Maybe they feel it too, a sense of him drawing up behind them. )

Excuse me ... Is it you I've been looking for?

( If the Token in front of him feels that Tether too, he'll bring his hands to the daggers sheathed at his belt. Clad in white and gold armor with wings sprouting from his waist, he looks angelic despite the alarm painted across his face. )

Ironeye | Elden Ring: Nightreign | Current Player

[markingnight]

Tetradecimal d: tetradraws

A placeholder for now. Plotting post link here! Wildcard is always an option, LMK if you'd like something specific.

You Won't Begin Again

[markingnight]

[ Ironeye was clad in a dragonscale mantle and hides, arms crossed as he waited for the merchant to finish his latest offering. Though cloaked in silver and other finery, there was something vigilant about his manner that set him apart from the rest of the milling crowd. Or perhaps it was that he was not quite fully invested in the revelry. Once the dish was finished, he took the prize in hand, and offered it to his companion, or the nearest thing to it in the crowd. Why, it was... grilled giant tadpole, with savory-sweet sauce over a bed of rice. Wow, delicious! ]

Here, have one.

[ In contrast to the muted, nightbound hues he wore, his eyes were so blue they did not seem to belong set in a human face. They watched, expectantly.

Yeah, have one...! ]

'hikaru' // the summer hikaru died // bloodwright

[paravore]

HIKARU INDOU
character info
march plotting comment
lazdo

I. you won't begin again

[paravore]

a. entrance

[ A young man dressed in a crimson robe and a plethora of gold jewelry rides into the city seated atop a ghostly Nightmare in similarly opulent regalia. He rides his horse to a stable reserved for Nobles, and after leaving her with a masked attendant, looks out at the festival space with curiosity. This is a dream, of course, no matter how vivid or tangible it feels. Sleep pulls them into these dream environments on a regular basis, and once you've been through a few of them, you know when they're coming.

But still — this one's pretty weird. ]

She's really gone all-out with this one, huh?

[ Said aloud to whoever might be standing nearby. He sighs and starts to remove the luxurious red silk gloves covering his hands. He can feel it — feel something, at least — a strange pulling sensation, like he has no choice but to explore. There's someone here, someone he needs to find, or maybe plural someones; people he may know, people he may be avoiding, people he may have never met until now. ]

...Hah. And she's bein' really demanding about it, too. Alright then. [ Smiling mysteriously to himself, he pockets the gloves. ] Ya know a good place to start?

b. tadpoles

[ There they are. Dozens, hundreds, of wriggling baby amphibians, sitting inside rows of clear glass bottles. 'Hikaru' has been standing here for some time, staring at them, his expression an inscrutable mixture of fascination, fear, and primal desire.

When he finally tears his eyes away, he looks to the person beside him, whether they're an established companion or a complete stranger. ]

I bet I can eat more of 'em than you can.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood | Trigun Stampede | Current Player

[lupusxylem]

A) You Won't Begin Again | Cavalier | OPEN

[The Dream feels unsettlingly familiar to Wolfwood, now. He knows what this is as it settles over and transforms the world into something entirely new, fantastical, yet with a feeling far more real than any true dream he's ever experienced. He had hoped that perhaps the universe would have a little mercy on him in the next dream, letting him experience his old form for just a little while. But this world isn't so kind.

No, he's fully transformed now, Sleep's chosen Offering form now his new normal. If nothing else, the silvery armor that now adorns his person stands in beautiful contrast to his massive blueish-black wings that fold neatly against his back, the Valkerie's taloned hands cradled by articulated gloves that hug the monstrous appendages perfectly. Even his taloned legs have grieves strapped around them that allow him to stride with ease, with room made for his tail so long it fans out behind him as it drags the ground. The silver chestpiece he wears has a beautifully embellished cross stamped into the center, giving him the appearance of a Paladin more than a true knight.

He has no idea what to make of it all as he walks with his Nightmare trailing behind him, never far even though he isn't necessarily holding her by a lead. Her nostrils flare if anyone gets too close, and if anyone other than Wolfwood tries to touch her directly, they'll find their hand phases right through.

She is secondary to Wolfwood himself, however, who finds himself drawn to the nearest Noble without even realizing it. He has his clawed hand resting on the pommel of a sword currently sheathed at his side, though it's ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. When he catches their gaze, he'll immediately bow his head before it even comes to mind whether he should be doing this or not, which prompts his Nightmare- Angelina- to bow her head similarly.]

Don't go too far from me. I'm gonna lose you in this crowd.

[If you're a Cavalier like him, he might approach with a more casual, less formal gait, holding himself a little more like the Wolfwood people are familiar with. Even with the multitude of Tethers trying to pull him every which way, he's still trying his damnest to do his own thing.

With varying success.]

This is fuckin' stupid.

[But you look so pretty :(]

[OOC: I am very open to forming new Tethers for this event! Just hmu if you'd like to play with that c:]

B) Capitulate And Let Me In | OPEN

[Wolfwood may not be the best person to be trapped in a Labyrinth with when you're being chased by something built to hunt.

The combination of 1) Being a Valkerie and 2) having swallowed a tadpole earlier that decided to make a home in his fucking lungs is making...just existing in general in a place like this a near impossibility. The second you and Wolfwood are dropped down as a pair tasked to get out of this place, not being able to see a proper exit with walls all around leaves the bird in Wolfwood's brain feeling horrifically claustrophobic, and each breath he exhales is stuttered and heralded with a thick mist that makes it look like he's in -20 degree weather standing beside you.

So, you know, we're fine. This is fine.

Wild blue eyes snap back if he notices you staring, prompting him to grab for your shoulder if you're a Cavaliar like him, or gesture a little more carefully if you're a Noble he's meant to be protecting.]

Qu- Quit gawkin, we gotta move!

C) 'Cause I Am A Danger | Seeker | OPEN

[Just as quickly as they were forced (willing or non) to work together, now a new ultimatum is foisted upon them...and for Wolfwood, it feels all too familiar. It feels sickening in how right it is.

He's a Seeker. The closeness of the corridors, winding staircases, and walls don't elicit the same claustrophobic panic as the maze. Or, at least, it's dulled by the way the sword he holds literally hums against his skin, vibrating through his claws and into his arm as it begs for blood. Every breath he takes brings with it massive clouds of mist, like a dragon struggling to breathe fire. It's going to make keeping himself hidden difficult, if he wants to find someone.

But that doesn't matter.

You were made for this. Molded to kill.

You are the Punisher.

Find a Hider. Get the keys, and get out.

He feels his Tethers flood him with every emotion imaginable as he begins his ascent, letting the thrumming panic, fear, and desperation guide him. It is very, very likely that- by the time he finds you- he'll already have a bloodied key hanging around his neck, searching for its pair.]

[OOC: Plotting comment is here!]

kamui | x/1999 | current player | ota

[perilously]

[ plotting comment with further info, contact options, etc ]

You Won't Begin Again

I

[ as often is the case with dreams, your character happens into being alongside kamui who appears to be tugging at his clothes as though he does not recognize them -- mostly because he doesn't. at least this cavalier is more lightly garbed than others might, and the sword at his side rests as if it is the most natural thing in the world, compared to other times, purrhaps, this kamui looks objectively quite and completely human. however, what remains even more prevalent in the dream: a scent he carries of blood and flowers, hydrangeas specifically for the particularly keen of noses. ]


II

[ second verse, 21% similar to the first?! what did your character just say? you may want to know most of all. based on kamui's kneeling before them, his head lowered against his sword now pressed into the ground, one might conclude a couple things. ]

If I can be of use, please.

[ one might feel something like a sense of a ripple. the scene doesn't reset but it shifts, like a resonance that says more than kamui's voice lets on: a near desperation where words are inadequate so the near palpable gravity weighs like a stone pressed into one's chest. burden? responsibility? desire? all three. none. but one thing may be for certain: if a dream fashioned tether is born the sense is not unlike fingers interlacing.

here. i am here.

or: the fear of not being allowed to stay, of not being enough. ]


Capitulate And Let Me In


III

[ he knows it is a dream because although this one lacks the sea, the feeling is the same. he knows it is a dream because some of his powers are restored, though they seem not to serve him a great deal with the changing of the maze, its light glowing and a strange warmth radiating. sometimes, when the walls shift, he thinks he gets a glimpse of someone he knows. just as fast, though, a wall obscures them. since running from the monster he cannot quite fathom a name for, more than a few names came to mind to find: are they okay? but what supersedes them are the names of any other tether formed by his oath of loyalty made not so long ago. though it feels like it might have been a lifelong fealty; the way dreams are.

all the while: the feeling of being hunted. part of kamui recoils from that, a primitive response: this is wrong. it should be the other way around. also instinctive: the hierarchy of survival over all else.

he is not sure how long he runs, though it may be a while, broken up with coughing fits and a tiny trail of flowers whose scent seems particularly bad compared to that of the flowers hinting through the maze. but kamui does not bother with either of them; just keeps going. he hurries towards one opening in the maze, only for a wall to rearrange and force his path to shift as well, which means even his cat-like reflexes are not enough to have him react in time...

...and he runs right into your character. he stumbles back, less because of impact but more because the jostling irritates his cough, ducking his head and covering his mouth as he gathers himself. once he has enough breath to speak, there is a bit hoarse but soft, mild, ]

Sorry...I thought...

[ but whatever kamui thought stays silent, his eyes flickering gold when he blinks, then violet again. perspiration dots his face, sluices down his throat. the armor does not help with the heat. ]


IV

[ running proves increasingly difficult with his cough as well as the strain from use of his powers, but having a reason to pause does not give him much hope. he eyes the chest, arguably innocuous looking but that only makes him more suspicious, head canting to the side as his eyes narrow to slits at the 'X' on it. good? bad? a trap? most likely. as if that was not bad enough, the abrupt sense that that which was chasing them is now far too near and also? in front of them. this shift thanks to the labyrinth elicits a displeased noise from the back of kamui's throat. his gaze dilates. ]

We should g--

[ as with many times now, when turning to leave the way they came, there is no longer a corridor. instead it splits two ways. lightly, kamui raises a pale hand to splay against the wall and closes his eyes. unbeknownst to kamui, the countdown that keeps flickering in and out of existence like a trick flame, reappears above his head, greatly reduced as he whispers almost more to himself, ]

One further in, one further out...

[ he huffs, quite overheated at this point, even more visibly weakened. and it is only as he turns towards your character that he notices there is another chest present, despite the maze's change. this one too bears an 'X'. ]



'Cause I Am A Danger

V

[ the key around his neck reminds him too much of the sword he found hanging at his side upon first 'waking' into this dream. he wonders if it's a clue or something meaningless. given the nature of dreams, the latter would be harder to achieve. he sighs, wiping some blood off of his mouth. caught against his throat: a few hydrangea petals stained red and rusting. every moment he feels a twinge that is not unlike a string being pulled tight enough to tear, and intermingled: someone else's feelings. he shivers, and as the countdown appears he tries to ignore it, hurrying from door to door, pausing in front of many and trying none.

why does it all feel so wrong?

like...something is missing.

in the endless corridor, he has to pause again anyway, catching his breath as best he can. but stopping is a bit of a mistake. the number of doors looks even more infinite this way and lands like an arrow shot into that fissure of hopelessness: what am i supposed to do?

that strange voice said there must be a 'pair'. so should he be looking for a person instead of a door? but they could be behind this door?

if tethered, the emotion(s) sometimes your character might blink and feel may be like this: a deep sadness it may bring the tethered one to their knees. or perhaps: fury. or perhaps: fear. all of this is tied up in other people whether here or not here and a failure to do one thing: save them.

all of this may trigger or deeply inflate the other's senses of things like fear, anxiety, burden, lack and especially a being trapped, with the sense of 'hunger' for that over-abundance to cease. they may wish to get rid of the source, in fact. or: kamui's guilt, fear, dissatisfaction, may be prone to eliciting that in others tethered to him.

blinking at the brief flash of a countdown again, kamui's hand fists over his chest. it hurts. it hurts. and?

a feeling once again of being hunted, and kamui does not think as much of it as he should: what it means that even if he would like to avoid hurting anyone, he also wants to be found. the key hanging around his neck feels heavier each door he passes by, hesitant to try...any of them.

again that voice echoes in his head: you need a pair.

how a character might come across kamui: eyes closed as he tries to feel through that tether any sense of 'where', and, of course, fails. ]




The Debt That I Owe


VI


[ if you would like to pick either of the two prompt-oriented options, i will then write a starter for you -- feel free to comment on his plotting thread with your selection -- or pm or disco me if that's preferable, though wildcard is your kingdom so go crazy. c: ]


Repay a Past Debt: /
(warnings for graphic violence? but it's kind of intimate? it's clamp?)

"dragon". this would be one or multiple of the dreams kamui is shown before he makes his choice to 'save' the earth and be the kamui of the dragons of heaven and then the tragedy that happens after he makes his choice (one childhood friend -- kotori -- impaled on a cross, the other the one the murderer -- fuuma -- his twin star, and kamui unable to stop any of it and arguably 'it's all his fault' because he chose one thing and not the other, arguably.

core seeds would be: ambivalence, regret, denial, guilt, betrayal, and love. the choice to change is of course the "side" kamui went with, but whether or not he can be confronted/confront himself in tandem with the paired tether, is questionable.

Embrace the Fury:

since the characters are being pushed into a battle for dominance, kamui will fight back if attacked, using his telekinetic abilities, strength, enhanced speed, etc all nerfed to keep him from absurdity as usual (and weakened at this point anyway due to previous use throughout the dream.)

but i do think he might not use the sword as much since his werecat tendencies will want to use his hands/claws and uh teeth. warning i guess?! but his degree of fight and feral-ness really will depend on your character and what feelings the dream catalyzes out of the situation. because of his background he actually would rather not fight and having had a taste of being not only hunted as a hider but the forcible nature of that seeker/hider tether, he would want to try some other way. however, since that would be also fighting his other instincts, it would be messy and there's definitely going to be blood irregardless!



Wildcard:

up for anything especially since it is so rife with wonderful dream mechanics in how much can be experienced and shown, plus the compounded nature of these tethers.

Tsugino Haru | ZENO | Pre-game | Trickster / Seeker

[taste]

SPOILER WARNING for ZENO Remake by Umami Mazu

A) You won't begin again

[ so here haru finds himself—a young man with a tidy appearance, minimal armor, mostly coming down to gauntlets, shoulders, and a layer of chainmail beneath his tunic. at his side, a pitch black horse follows at his heels, occasionally nudging him to pull his attention towards something else.

he's ignored a few of the nudges, but this time he looks—and the one his eyes land on pulls him in immediately just with their appearance.

it's rare for haru to care for someone's looks. there are things about others that stand out occasionally, as with anyone, but he doesn't consider himself to be a shallow person by any means. looks won't tell him if someone will love him, after all, but this time is different. the pull he feels is almost instinctive, and he follows it step by step as he approaches this person, dressed in exquisite silks and finery.

he tips his head modestly when their attention turns to him, and his voice is amiable and polite. ]

Excuse me?

B) 'Cause I am a danger

[ when he opens his eyes again, there's no longer a full-length blade strapped to his side, nor is the person he accompanied through the first piece of this maze anywhere to be seen. what he finds instead is the familiar warmth of a knife in his palm, fingers squeezing around it as he examines its edge.

hunger isn't a foreign feeling to haru at all—it's one that he recognizes easily, and has no qualms in pursuing fulfilment for.

what he understands more than anything, is that he won't have to go far to find what he's looking for. he takes slow steps through the halls, eyes resting on each darkened corner and pile of clutter that might obscure someone's silhouette before moving on to the next. with his knife hidden behind his back, he calls out innocently: ]

Hello? Is somebody there?

B) Wildcard

[ i'm up for doing other prompts too, just hit me up via PM if you feel like checking in first. as a note, haru is from pre-game which means he's at his most delusional and can try to straight up eat someone he catches, so let me know if you're interested in that. fellow seekers are also more than welcome for both conflict and cooperation! please also check his permissions page for some warnings regarding him/his canon. ]

gojou satoru | jujutsu kaisen | new player

[oversize]

i. YOU WON'T BEGIN AGAIN.

( when his eyes open again, there are no skulls. there are no skeletons, begging for silent company, no gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach; there are no plunging regrets, anger, rage, the chilling ice storm of dangerous calm, forced over him in the aftermath. this place is not the prison realm, or at the very least, is such a convincing hallucination that he doesn't perceive it as the prison realm. children skip ahead of him, hands linked, babbling to themselves in overjoyed voices--a couple brushes past him carrying baskets that should be lined with sweets, meats, bread, vegetables, though the six eyes immediately alert him to the disgusting realization that they're full of slimy little tadpoles. not his kind of meal, even if his stomach turns as though he hasn't been fed in years.

has it been that long? he has no perception of time; it passes differently, trapped in that claustrophobic cube.

and it feels like a dream, because he's not wearing his school uniform, dusty with human blood and the dirt from the collapsed subway tunnels: he's dressed like some kind of royal, from one of those silly animated fairytales that he'd watched once or twice with kugisaki, the weight of a diamond circlet stamped down into the pale, messy strands of his hair. ridiculous, really, enough that he wants to laugh--enough that he does laugh, a little, as he pursues the wide opening to the festival like he's sure another few moments will have him waking up out of a fantasy.

his stomach twists, and the six eyes seek out every stall nearby, mapping the shape of them, letting his feet take him further towards each one with the hope of finding something sweet. all these weird people, and no one's selling donuts? sweet bread with cream? cotton candy? what kind of backwards fantasy is this? his head would do better than this.

so he's crouched down, pouting, his hands skimming over a display case that seems to be filled, again, with only those slimy little tadpoles: when there's a shadow cast over him, and the bright, imposing blue of his gaze snaps upward, head tilted. )

Yes? ( he sounds bemused--if not a little impatient. ) Sorry, are you here to take me away to my castle~?

( the whole thing feels ridiculous, so why bother acting like it's anything but? with a sigh, he pushes back up onto his feet, beaming an overzealous grin; there's something building there, something the six eyes can't see, something that stretches taut and strange, like invisible string, between him and--whoever this is. )

Get me something to eat. I don't do frogs.

ii. CAPITULATE AND LET ME IN.

( now this feels more accurate. this feels more like something that the prison realm would imprint onto him itself--that hopeless, gnawing feeling of being trapped and unable to do anything about it.

sure, there's some kind of timer, he gathers, from the flashing digits--sure, there's some kind of end, the six eyes tell him, though the maze seems only keen to change its shape whenever he looks at what's ahead of him. but whether he finds it or not, does it really matter? is this real? could it even be real?

nothing about his techniques tell him otherwise. whether it's just a desperate hallucination or not, there are people here. and if he wants to make up for the sin of what happened in shibuya--

one of his hands lilts onto his side, brushing along the edge of the maze, following every left turn. between him and his fingertips is the weight of limitless, an infinite, tiny little space that keeps him from connecting with anything, and keeps anything from touching him. and it would be easy to keep going, to use the combination of this and the six eyes to find the exit, but: what he finds instead is someone lost, someone unsure, or perhaps someone committed to ending this 'game' on their own terms.

with a slow smile, bemused, he slides up behind them--that hand of his reaches out, closes firmly around the person's wrist, dragging their arm up into the air as though they're being punished. )

You know, they have that saying. 'A rose has its thorns', or whatever. ( the curling, creeping vine of the flower stretches along the next wall, which appears to be whatever this stranger had wanted to touch. ) You don't wanna pick that.

( he can't pinpoint precisely the issue, but the air around them smells sweet: too sweet. it's giving him a headache. )

Pick me, instead. ( with a playful squeeze of the captive wrist. )

iii. THE DEBT THAT I OWE.

( a summit. a showdown. a reunion? his ribs feel like they might crack--but that's nothing compared to the weight of realization, when the air stretches around him, around them, and they're no longer at the top of the tower, no longer weighted under the rules of a place he doesn't understand.

he knows this place. he remembers this place. and he hates this place.

the ruins of the school stretch out in front of them. crumbled buildings, shattered windows, the aftermath of a bruising, battered battle between sorcerer and curse user: if he squints up towards the sunset, he can see it there, spanned out in front of them. it will take months of work, most likely, to rebuild everything; months of trying to bury the feelings inside of him that spring up at the sight of the alley in front of them.

the body is still there. the stench of blood, of death, lingers in the cool winter air, and here he is, again, standing there in his uniform, hands shaking, forcing his brain to reconcile what he did: to reconcile with getou suguru's death, by his own hand.

and what did he do after this? he can never really remember it straight. it feels like the memories shut themselves out, like he never lets himself remember; but there's one important thing, one thing he knows he should have done. )

...We have to get rid of the body. ( he says, but whether it's to himself, or to his companion, is hard to say. he sounds dazed, dull, like his eyes can't quite comprehend what they're seeing--or like his heart can't stand it. ) I never did it. I need to do it. We need to do it.

WILDCARD & OOC.

i'm open to any other prompts not included here, so feel free to write up a wildcard starter & i'll roll with it! gojou is a token, i'm open to any tethers and any kind of content - gen, shippy, whatever. ota in terms of age and gender, gojou himself is 27. i love horror and am hard to offend. canonpoint is s2e9 when he gets sealed into the prison realm. i prefer tags that are on the longer side, with more detail than not, and i'm liable to drop a thread if i'm not getting what i'm giving in terms of detail and participation in the thread. feel free to send me a PM if you have any questions!