January Undercurrent: Growing Pains

[lifeaftr_mods]

JANUARY UNDERCURRENT

Who: Everyone!
What: Hey bud, how's it growing?
When: January 3rd to January 20th
Where: Everywhere!
Warnings: This event has a potential for body horror and character death; please mark anything as it comes up!

A Notion Growing Inside Me

Those of you who weren't with us the last time Umui entered the archipelago didn't have to contend with the lethal illness known as the Overgrowth personally, but anyone who remembers it probably doesn't remember it fondly. Fortunately, this isn't quite the same strain of the illness that you had to contend with the last time. It's not unrelentingly and uncompromisingly fatal, for one! That's always nice.

For those that need a primer on the Overgrowth, it is best described as a sickness that overcomes you with floral growth both inside and outside your body that can only be cured by expressions of emotional honesty. Expressions of truths, affections, and admissions of things that you have hidden from yourselves or from others were critical in dispensing of the illness. These could be as simple as admissions of past sins or the revealing of secrets, or as grandiose and overt as confessions of guilt or love. That general idea will remain more or less the key means of curing this strain as well, though the stakes fortunately aren't as high this go around! Which is to say, if you fail to have any grand emotional epiphanies by the time this event ends, you aren't doomed to suffer a character death; symptoms will simply dissipate come January 20th.

So what's this sickness going to be like in this particular instance, then? We're so glad you asked! You can go the standard route, of course. Adventurers' first brush with the illness saw the following afflicted upon them:

[ ♆ ] Stage One: Germination. Initial symptoms involve fever, coughing fits, numbness to nerves and extremities, and general joint stiffness. Difficulty breathing or performing other basic functions will often occur. Fatigue, difficulty sleeping, and intense weakness or dizzy spells are also liable to occur as the flowers begin to harvest nutrients from the body. This will also generate extreme thirst and periods of intense nausea. Tremors and the sensation of something "itching" from inside are also common. The end of Stage One is usually marked by the act of vomiting or coughing up flower petals or spores, along with a not-insignificant amount of blood.

[ ♆ ] Stage Two: Budding. The floral growths spread more completely inside the body, and begin to grow on the skin or exterior. Difficulty performing basic functions will increase as, for example, airways become obstructed and flowers grow around joints and pinch them still. The site of affliction also yields rashes, blisters, and blood sores as the flowers sprout from the skin. The rate of vomiting or coughing up floral growths will increase dramatically. Flowers often bloom quickly, and very painfully. Numbness in affected areas will increase, oftentimes rendering parts of the body completely inert - a pair of legs claimed completely by blooms, for example, will no longer work.

This was followed by Stage Three: Bloom, which resulted in character death. However, this strain will not advance to this style of Stage Three. All symptoms will disperse by the time Umui resurfaces.

This strain is also rather more erratic, which can make emotional repression more of an inconvenience than a horrifying circumstance. For those who would rather not play around with intense sickness (or who have already endured this once before), you have the option to go that route if you like! With this variant of the Overgrowth, one can become, for example, so embarrassed that they hiccup up a flower. A vicious denial of their feelings may cause them to spontaneously erupt into a rash of dandelion puffballs, seemingly immediately. You might end up walking around with a bouquet for an arm for a few hours. Perhaps mortifying, but certainly not fatal! Isn't that nice?

Unless, of course, you want it to be...

I Can't Fight It Much Longer

Now, while the Bloom Stage isn't present in this strain, it has mutated its progression into a rather nasty end stage. Those of you who succumb a little too readily to this illness, who don't fight off the emotional repression quickly, who don't admit those difficult truths to yourself or confess to whatever you're bottling up, you'll be faced with a potentially horrifying transformation. Potentially, because it is your choice whether or not you see fit to commit your character to that fate - as stated above, this option might simply skip over your character entirely, and the worst they'll have to deal with are cartoonishly over-the-top effects that disperse in due time.

But maybe not all of you will be so lucky. Some of you might discover for yourselves how this particular variant of the Overgrowth has mutated.

We call this mutation Stage Three: Outbreak. In this final Stage, those beautiful blooms wither and harden into a fungus-like carapace as the illness grows into the victim's brain and shuts down virtually all higher functions. This can sometimes render them almost wholly recognizable, but not always - oftentimes, it's very obvious who this person once was. The victim is reduced to a carrier of the virus, which causes them to act the way you'd expect most viruses to act: becoming intent on spreading. Advanced brain functions such as speech, rational thought, and so on tend to shut off and become wholly inaccessible.

Now that the victim's body is no longer fighting the Overgrowth, the illness lends them increased speed, strength, and durability, making them dangerous foes indeed. They will usually seek to infect others by whatever means necessary - usually via biting or exuding breathable spores - but in some cases, they will simply reduce to base instincts, and just outright attempt to attack and kill whoever is closest.

Unfortunately, at this point, there is no hope of a cure; it's hard to make someone be emotionally honest when they're capable of little more than blunt, animal instinct. At this point, you can either wait for the Stage Three symptoms to disperse come Umui's return, or take manners into your own hands. You can probably guess what that might entail.

If you decide to put your Overgrown friends out of their misery, this will count as a character death. If it comes to that, be sure to let us know on the Deaths page! Death penalties, however, will not be reduced for this event.

Try to Get Through It

Of course, there's a lot going on in the background as well. You're free to use this log as a catch-all for the duration of January's Undercurrent Event, as well as any of the other minor events listed on our Monthly Rundown post. And, of course, you are always free to create your own individual logs and posts as needed.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them over on the Questions header on our Rundown post!

January Timeline

[ ♆ ] January 1st: "This Sucks" begins and lasts until January 10th
[ ♆ ] January 3rd: "Growing Pains" begins and lasts until January 20th
[ ♆ ] January 11th: "No Water is Safe" begins and lasts until January 19th
[ ♆ ] January 20th: Umui returns to the archipelago
[ ♆ ] January 21st: "Impawsible Geometries" begins and lasts until January 31st

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

Zidane Tribal | OTA | cw: blood and body horror. Possibly more to come in threads.

[atailoftwoworlds]

Germination

[Zidane does not often get sick. However, for the past few days he has not been feeling his best. Not only has he been more exhausted than usual but he’s been coughing and feeling occasionally like he wants to be sick. It’s bad enough that he has spent hours awake at night. At first, he thought it would pass.

But after a few days, he begins to wonder if maybe he should go to the clinic and ask that weird but well-meaning doctor, swallow his pride and ask if he has anything. Sure, he might get a lecture from the guy in the meantime but even that’s better than facing the possibility of being so ill he cannot get out of bed.

However, Zidane does not get very far away from the house before he suddenly has a massive coughing fit. Before he knows it, blood starts spilling onto the ground. When he finishes, he looks down, looking shocked and horrified.

Not only did he not expect to be coughing up blood but also so much of it…….maybe his sickness is more serious than he previously thought. He really needs to get to the clinic now.

And then as Zidane gets up, something catches his eye.

Where did those pink flower petals come from?

He coughs again. More blood. He gives himself time to breathe and wipes the blood fromhis mouth. As he does so, he finds an orange petal on his lip. Where….? He looks around. No sign of orange flowers.

He coughs a third time. More blood. Another few petals….

And then Zidane freezes. Memories of certain conversations suddenly come flooding back. Conversations about a certain disease…where flowers grow inside the body and then…..

Oh gods….]


Budding

[He can barely breathe. His right arm is sprouting orange rose and is completely dysfunctional. It’s not as if he can’t fight with his left arm but…..bluebells are starting to sprout from that as well. He’s in so much pain….

It’s true people come back from the dead here. However, it’s not guaranteed.

Why is this going on? Did disease not come from some island? Did everyone not get rid of it? Why is it here?

Either way, he’s only heard of one cure. And the idea fills him with rage. Can people just not talk about their feelings on their own? Give them some space and time? And yet……he promised Dagger he’d come back home. If he dies and does not return….

Somehow he manages to make it to the beach before clinging to a rock before coughing up more blood and petals. There is searing pain as the bluebells start to grow even more. He feels something slowly tearing through his back…

This is so humiliating as well as terrifying.]

Wild Card

[Want to plot another option. Want Zidane to run into your flower zombie character? Any plotting for mini events? PM me or contact me on Plurk or Discord and we can discuss!]

Budding

[yakyuuman]

[ Days before, when he wanted to relax at the beach, he instead found some guy washing blood and flowers off himself by the shore.

Today he really needs that bit of silence and peace, and - oh geez, not again!

Actually, he stops himself before groaning in annoyance, because the moment he recognizes his friend Zidane definitely growing those goddamn flowers Jyushimatsu's speeding towards him, covering his frowny mouth with a sleeve, trying to determine where he should even start aiding the kid... ]

Oi! It's me! Come on, pull yourself together!

Yukio | OTA | cw: let's get body horror up in here

[reflash]

Germination - Jan 3-4 - mostly the clinic

[He's fine.

He can't consciously think it, his mind shying away from the idea of actually forming the words, so he just doesn't think about it, keeps moving. He keeps tossing and turning instead of getting any sleep, a deep discomfort settling in his lungs like a chest cold, and he doesn't let himself stop and wonder if something's really wrong with him. He has to shrug it off, stubbornly push through it. He has things to do, after all.

His hands are clumsier than usual as he turns pages in yet another book on plants, as he copies information into a book that's already overfull of notes. He chalks the clumsiness, the numbness, the generalized weakness up to exhaustion, or a tendon strain, or some kind of mild vitamin deficiency that's just now showing up. He tries not to think about it at all.

He chokes down a coughing fit, and then another, but he can't just leave the clinic in the middle of the day, so he pushes through it. It's just a cold. He'll take it easy for a few days, and hopefully it won't get worse. There are always things to do, bandages to make or herbs to process or things to clean. He'll just keep moving, and he'll take it easy tomorrow. He ignores the taste and scent of blood in his mouth.]

Budding - Jan 5-8 - mostly the monkey compound

[There's blood everywhere. He cuts the crinkled puffs of yellow-orange flowers out of his skin with his claws, wraps bandages around seeping wounds. Maybe people won't notice. Maybe he'll be fine.

His blood isn't red, anyway. It's blue, translucent, glowing. It doesn't look like blood anymore, so maybe no one will notice. It's not like he's going to see anyone, anyway, because he's doing his best to hide away (maybe curled up at the base of his tree in the monkey compound, waiting to gather the energy to climb up the ladder, maybe in his treehouse, maybe later he's somewhere in the woods, hiding away like that's going to keep him safe).

His breath is coming too shallow, coughing fits getting worse, stomach twisting with spasms of petals soaked in blood and vomit. His hands are getting worse, losing dexterity as the numbness and the ache creeps up them and the skin blisters and cracks around flowers pushing themselves out of his skin. His head aches, from the pain or the fever or just the fact that he's being turned into a garden.

He isn't fine.]

Outbreak - Jan 9+ - anywhere

[It hurts at first, the marigolds bursting from his skin with petals turning leathery and thick, his hands finally giving out on him. The skin on his neck splits and oozes as crinkled petals force their way out in clumps. A nerve gives out somewhere under the pressure, he can't remember the name of it, he can't remember a lot of things. It just hurts. There's a blinding pressure in his head, too much for him to do anything to fight back or alleviate it. It builds, and builds, until the pressure gives way with a sudden burst, flowers forcing their way out of an eye socket, out from behind the orb of the magitech eye set in his forehead until it separates from the housing entirely. He vomits again, chokes on flowers and blood and loses consciousness.

It doesn't come back.

The thing that used to be Okumura Yukio is still recognizable, under the crinkled orange layers of leathery petals. His bladed tail is still there, as weighed down as it is by overgrowth. His fangs are there, and the metal claws on his hands. His blood is glowing translucent blue. The metal eye in his forehead is damaged beyond repair, the orb popped out by the pressure of flowers bursting through behind it. He's fast. He's strong. He has nothing left but instinct.]

Jan 7 - forest

[thermalwind]

[It’s the blood that draws him in. He had went out to scout and get some air. All of the things he said to people...

Once he finds the first bit of blue glowing blood, he tracks it to the source. He makes his approach known when he gets close. Coughing, blood. Overgrowth.

Keith steps out into the open, faintly yellow eyes taking in the blood and flowers. He takes one look at Yukio and says,] Cutting the flowers out doesn’t slow it down.

Might make it worse. [He taps fingers that end in claws against the side of a tree adding,] How much you know about the sickness?

connor | ota | cw: suicidal ideation as usual

[yourattention]

i. doesn’t know how much to feel (jan 3-10)

[Connor knows what it is immediately, the first cough wracking his body and drawing concern from the dragon that doesn’t really fit in his house anymore but refuses to stay outside.

He also knows he could fix it, if he wanted to, because he was the one who figured out how it worked in the first place. That sounds simpler than the reality of the situation, though, which is that not a lot has changed since the last time he had Overgrowth. Someone going to try, though, and he's going to pretend he doesn't know what they're talking about.

The natural thing to do in this situation is, of course, to make a flyer. There’s one for the temple and one for the Denny. Connor himself can generally be found at the Denny, drinking something he refuses to share. It’s fine. He’s fine. Everything is fine.

Of course, the dragon thing looks like an empty threat given that there are no dragons visible in the direct vicinity. Feel free to actually attempt confessional with him or, you know. Take up his offer of just sitting there in silence and being a nihilist.]

ii. find a rush within the pain (jan 11-15)

[By the third time a Ghost Shark tries to kill him while he’s pretending like he's trying not to die from flowers, he fucking gives up the ghost (pun intended) and goes to the desert of Monsun. If he’s going to die, he might as well be free from his own brain weasels while it happens.

The dragon usually walking beside him makes him seem a lot more unapproachable, but his Overgrowth is on full display at this point. Anyone who’s met him for five minutes is probably unsurprised by this, and attempts to coax him into curing it will be expertly evaded. Or have a dragon set on them, he wasn’t joking about that.

For anyone who’s ever been to his house and met his corpse, however, you might find the fact that the flowers this time are different interesting. Turns out he doesn’t have Aquifoliaceae this time. This time, they look like . . . daisies? His lower left arm is where most of the blooms are concentrated, mostly white with a few pink scattered throughout.

Oh, also he made himself a flower crown out of them that the dragon hovering around him is wearing. He gives absolutely no fucks about this. Overgrowth is barely in the top 10 worst things that have happened to him since he got here.]

iii. need the feeling to remain (jan 15 on)

[What the FUCK was that?

There's a wall of fire in the Monsun desert and a dragon circling overhead. You'll have to dodge the dragon first to do anything about the fire, which is more of a ring upon closer inspection, and contains (1) person. Zombie. Whatever. The problem with that zombie, right, is that unfortunately Connor’s like. Actually fairly strong to begin with. He’s almost deceptively strong now, given that he regularly just swims for fun but still looks like a noodle.

So anyway you probably should have left the fire alone.]

i.

[ichininyaanshi]

[At some point while Connor is nursing his drink, a few weak, thready coughs crop up behind him from someone else entirely. Followed by a scratchy voice that might be at least somewhat familiar to him.]

Hey.

[Then his former neighbor slides into a nearby seat, holding his own cup - with no apparent plans to drink it yet, given the mask secured tightly around his nose and mouth. There's no obvious flowers blooming from the exposed portions of his skin, but he's paler than usual, listing just a bit to the left.]

You still suck at advertising.

ichimatsu / ota / cw: body horror, illness

[ichininyaanshi]

i. (jan 1-2) - reset

[Hopefully you were enjoying your new year, and especially your peaceful, pre-flower hell morning. Perhaps you're interested in it being completely ruined by a screeching, hobo-looking man crashing right through it?]

[Because that's precisely what he does. Rather, he's chasing something - a small, foxlike creature with a mask and jewel around its neck, darting back and forth as Ichimatsu follows behind it spitting angrily like a cat. It's a tube fox, clearly toying with him, and more than that - it hasn't even shapeshifted into anything. The reason why he's chasing it is wholly unclear.]

Show me where you hid everything, you damn swiping bastard!!

[Oh, no, it's perfectly clear: he's just stupid, and he thinks this is a slyper anyway.]

ii. (jan 3 onward) - you are liars in a row

[Whether it's back home or here, getting sick is nothing new. Ichimatsu's immune system lets him down just as often as the rest of him does. You pull on a hygiene mask, drink a couple pots of tea, and deal with it. Or you die, thanks to your family's either total lack of concern or their well-meaning but homicidal attempts to take care of you. Is that part just him?]

[Sickness here has been a little bit different.]

[When Ichimatsu wakes up one day feeling feverish, it's really nothing. The nausea, dizziness - also not that bad. He does his best to downplay everything around his brother, hoping to avoid both worrying Jyushimatsu, and also his brother's bedside manner. Still, seriously: it's no big deal.]

[Then he notices that... cloying, saccharine taste to the bile he keeps having to swallow back. That familiar and threadlike itch webbing underneath his skin, in his ribcage. The bitter-metal tang of sap in his cough.]

[Then, the petals start sticking to the inside of his mask.]

[Ichimatsu changes up his routine after that. He continues to spend time at home, but other than that, he's around his other haunts as well: at the monkey compound, tending the garden - including the marijuana plants that still seem to be growing around the back of his former tree; at Denny, nursing an untouched drink or sitting in a corner stacking dominoes into miniature sculptures of cats and pine trees; or simply somewhere along the coastline, fishing.]

[At some point along the way, ugly, purple little florets begin bristling at his temples, roots threading along his fingers like reedy little rings. Unlike last time, he doesn't tug or scratch them out.]

[Honestly: he's just trying to figure out what he should do this time. It helps knowing what he's sick with. Now the question is if he can keep it from going the same way, given he's got the biggest reason in the world to this time.]

ii.

[yakyuuman]

[ It started when Ichimatsu was clearly showing signs of being sick. His older brother didn't really play it as anything more than a flu, but Jyushimatsu couldn't help looking on with concern as the face of his best friend turned paler and paler, with no signs of improvement. He suggested they went to the clinic to see if there was a specific medicine available, but even then, things, as he feared, got... worse.

The change in schedule radically threw Jyushimatsu in a loop. Ichimatsu was less at home and more out of it, doing... things that he probably used to do when he was first in the island, despite how he should stay in bed instead. However, as he bore witness of the first islander coughing up flowers, pain and suffering clearly crossing their face, dread quickly crawled up Jyushimatsu's spine. He easily made it his mission to reach out to his brother as soon as possible.

On the very next time he spots Ichimatsu, he's all up in his face, sleeves tightly curled against his chest, tensing visibly at the sight of those weird plants that appeared over Ichimatsu's temples. ]

Nii-san, what's going on? [ There's an edge to his voice, and he's not smiling. One of his feet tap the ground nervously. ] People are growing flowers out of nowhere and you... are you also...?

Keith | ota | cw: blood and body horror. Any further subjects to be added in comment headers.

[thermalwind]

Thousand times I've fallen (Jan 3-4)
[He steps out of Storyteller's temple when a bout of weakness hits him without warning. Keith stumbles and pulls himself back away from the entrance. He hadn't been feeling well since he woke up.

He'd hoped it would pass but it hasn't. He chooses to ignore it for now. But as the day progresses he feels worse and worse. He continues to do what he does, patrolling the well trodden paths, and checking animal traps and when he's standing on the shore of the beach of Enso he has his first coughing fit.

It's terrible and as he straightens he catches the spots of blood on his hand. He stares at it, transfixed by the sight of his own blood in a context that feels familiar.

Slowly he kneels down and thrusts his hand into the sea water. But his shoulders are slack and he's staring out at the water.

Stage One symptoms include, but are not limited to: fever, nausea, vomiting, numbness to nerves and joints, difficulty breathing, fatigue, difficulty sleeping, vertigo, weakness, tremors, and extreme thirst. Internal growth often creates a sensation that some called an "itch" from within.

Pulling himself together takes longer than he'd like. As the day has worn on he's gotten most of the symptoms and the horrifying realization of what he might have is crystallizing in his mind as he pulls himself up and removes his armor. He leaves on his undersuit and walks slowly into the surf.

Nausea builds and weakness hits him again, sending him to his knees with a small splash. Keith reaches up and sweeps his hair out of the way. He isn't surprised when he starts coughing again, blood making spreading through the water like ink and doing little to hide the small red petals that came with them.]

...Guess you can just get it again and again.

[He sits back and watches the tide pull the petals and blood with it, thrusting his hand down into the water to splash his face and wash the rest off.]

Cause you're the last of a dying breed (Jan 5-8)

[Going about life as if his hands aren't numb and unable to hold things at random intervals is difficult. His right arm fails him first, just like last time. The itching feeling that has been low key dominating the back of his mind gets worse until mid-way through the day he stumbles sideways and slams into a tree on his way back to a mana pool. He'd dressed in a shirt and regular loose pants today and he's so grateful for it as he pulls up the edge of his shirt. Red Alstroemeria flowers have broken out of his skin in a pattern he would know in his sleep.

The thin series of lines and focused spots map out the markings of the Black Lion's segments and lights. He leans against the tree and forces himself to focus on breathing. It's a struggle.]

...I know the cure. [He admits it out loud, his voice raspy from the coughing fits he's been suffering. One hits him then and he turns into the tree, trying to muffle it. He's making a mess. Any predator for miles could scent his blood and know he isn't up to his usual fighting shape.

He knows that too. Keith reaches to his side, drawing the white and black shaped U from his belt. The bayard sword will be lighter, easier to move while he's weak like this. The weapon glows bright purple as it reshapes into the glowing blue blade and basket hilt. He turns slowly to face outward and forces himself to focus on listening for anything around.

So far, so good. If he's lucky he won't get hit by another fit on the way back.]

Wildcard
[Want a custom prompt or got an idea? pm this journal, or hit me up by other means. I got you.]

Cause you're the last of a dying breed. Jan 6th?

[atailoftwoworlds]

[Close by, behind another tree, Zidane has sat down to rest. He should not be doing this! He should be getting up, looking for others, trying to get cured, as humiliating as it would be.

And yet he's so tired....

And then he hears a familiar voice, followed by a massive coughing fit. Wearily, he peers his head from behind the tree.

So Keith's been infected too. Zidane pushes himself up onto his feet with his left hand, the only one he can still use. And even that is becoming stiffer from the flowers growing out of it.]

Same cure.....as before....right? [Or at least he cannot think of any other answer.]

Church | ota | cw: mild body horror

[motherfucking_ghost]

i.
[Despite being a robot, Church still manages to feel a lot of things that shouldn't be physically possible. Feeling nausea when he doesn't have a stomach sucks. Feeling an itch in his chest that makes him cough when there are no lungs nor phlegm to produce those feelings, irritating. He can still feel tired when his power's running low, but he just recharged, so this lethargy is unusual.

In a world with magic but no technology, can he still catch a virus?

Still, better take it easy. Ugh, and the itching, too? His skin isn't even skin! Fuck, was it duality island? Was it the fucking ice side of the island and he picked something up? Nope, he's staying inside or relatively close by on the islets, mostly relaxing, feeling sick as a dog. Cuddling a tigerlily if she's not opposed to it.]

ii.
[Okay, a lot of people know what this sickness is, and it's really fucking horrifying, especially when small yellow flowers start budding from the hole in his gut, and also start creeping out from under his armor, worming their way out between joints, even curling up from under the seal of his helmet.

Moving feels worse. Pulling them out ends up being one of his worst ideas even if it's a reasonable reaction. His right arm is starting to seize up from the growth. He can feel his inner workings straining against the growth.]

Okay. [Maybe you're coming up to him. Maybe he's ambling around while he still can and grabbing you by the shoulder. This is probably a bad idea if you don't have sleeves, given this flower has a property that can cause sores and redness and blisters when exposed to sunlight. Which doesn't impact Church at all. His skin's not skin, remember?] Okay, the cure is talking, right? About...feelings? What do I have to tell you?

[Sometimes he bats flowers away from his visor. Sometimes he coughs, and petals squeeze their way out from under his helmet. It's all very frustrating.]

Seriously, I can talk all day, I just have to know what to say!

Also body horror

[atailoftwoworlds]

[Zidane yelps when his shoulder is grabbed. He'd get his knives out except that is currently a little difficult considering his arms are still stiff and have flowers growing out of them. So instead he glares daggers at Church.]

What the hell are you doing you- [And then he stops, realising this man has the disease too. He's clearly scared and wants help. The young thief's glare fades and is replaced by a look of weariness and frustration.]

...Sorry.....That was real shitty of me. [His own anger and fear of the disease has made him uncharacteristically crabby but still he shouldn't have done that.] But you're right. We're supposed to talk about our feelings......our honest ones.....

tim wright | ota | i'll match your formatting

[postictal]

i. january 2nd ; ensō ; i hear you buzzing, a fly on the wall

[He doesn't recognize the things when he sees them, though he assumes they might just be a variant on a slyper or something. They're flitting around outside the library when he passes through, and he stops long enough to regard them warily - which allows them more than enough time to dart forward and suddenly, Tim's on his knees. He can barely breathe for the coughing, the hitch in his lungs. His vision starts to blur. He looks up - ]

[He can't see - ]

[His heart seizes in his chest as, slowly, the Foxes start to blur into something less recognizable. Scarred things, masked things, things he doesn't recognize - and he's easy prey as they slowly start to siphon away what little strength he still has.]

ii. january 5th ; ensō ; it's not when you get there, it's always the climb
cw: body horror, blood

[Several days later, you'll find Tim stumbling through the jungles of Ensō, his eyes clouded, looking rather lost. At times, he reaches down to scratch idly at the purple petals poking through one arm, or the pretty white buds pocking the skin of his neck. He stops several times to cough, spit blood and wet blooms into the dirt, swaying on the spot like he's been struck with some terrible nausea.]

[The parts of him not slick with blood from the floral shafts jabbing out through his skin are shiny with sweat. Periodically, he stops to scan the woods around him, looking furtively over his shoulder. He can't say why he does it. It just - feels incredibly important that he make sure no one's following him. That nothing's following him?]

[It's hard to say. It's really...hard to say these days. He doesn't remember what he's supposed to be looking for. God, but he doesn't remember. He can't even say where he is, is the thing. He feels like he should remember, but he's having...he's having a lotta trouble remembering much of anything right now.]

[He scratches at a fresh rash of geraniums that have sprouted along his wrist, seemingly unaware of the dark blots of blood that immediately start to well from where the flowers tear away from the skin.]

iii. january 12th ; denny ; fighting for air while you circle the drain
cw: brief allusion to suicide ideation

[He's been wincing and coughing still as the flowers continue to ravage his body - and he knows exactly whose flowers these are, for fuck's sake, as if he needed that knife twisted in any deeper than it is already - but at least he's not wandering around with a mind scraped fucking clean anymore.]

[Memories. They leak out so goddamned easily for him, even without the aid of mysterious fox fucks. So while the Overgrowth is eating him alive (again), he's not about to admit to anything if he can help it. Let him die from this shit all over again. He's fine with it.]

[Fuck if a part of him doesn't welcome it.]

[The important part is making sure that those fox things aren't hanging around Denny. So when he stops by the place to take inventory, he opens up one of the water barrels - and promptly gets a very good look at something with a massive maw lined with very sharp teeth.]

[Tim slams the barrel shut.]

[He blinks a few times and waits for his heart to slow down. The barrel doesn't so much as shake or jitter, which means...what, exactly?]

[He moves to open another barrel instead. He can deal with the shark after he washes the goddamn dishes, only when he opens the barrel, it turns out there's another shark inside that one too.]

[Which is just fantastic. Really. It's just a great way to start the day, the discover that the water barrels have an inexplicable and completely nonsensical shark infestation.]

[Tim probably seems a bit more disgruntled than usual as you see him barely managing ot haul some of the water barrels outside the establishment, tapping a quick announcement out to the rest of the archipelago on his stone before considering the barrels with a sigh.]

[How the hell is he gonna get rid of this water now.]

iv. january 15th ; islets ; maybe you're looking for someone to blame
cw: body horror, blood

[Of course, it all comes back to this.]

[Tim stays inside, mostly. He leans up against Butternut as the tigerlily intermittently purrs and butts at him with their head and licks at the blood leaking from the sprouts curling out of his arms, all to no avail. He's responding less and less to just about anything around him. He knows eventually - or rather, thinks he knows - that the flowers will eventually claw their way up him and claim him, and that'll be fine.]

[That's why he's staying inside, see. He doesn't need people seeing him like this. He doesn't need people giving a damn. He doesn't need people trying to get him to accept flaws or utter his secrets, because that's not what he's here for. He can die with that shit locked up tight, thanks. He's not inflicting his demons on anyone else.]

[He can taste it in the back of his throat, molten and copper. He spits a gobbet of blood and petals into the dirt outside the house. He'd really rather avoid making a mess of the floors, so he figured he'd crawl out here. Maybe this way his corpse will do a decent job of fertilizing the area.]

You kids're gonna be the death of me, [he mutters to no one in particular, his eyes half-lidded. A part of him wants to laugh at that. He doesn't, though, because he's not that fucked. He knows who he is. Who he still has to be.]

[Butternut, however, is not content to watch their caretaker die. If they see anyone coming by the area, the tigerlily will stand, tail swaying, and trot over to nudge at them with their head, and generally do all they can to lead them over to where Tim lies in the garden outside the third shack on islet four, content to decompose.]

v. wildcard ; i see you hurting, i do what i can

[as always, i will happily whip up any closed starters that you might desire. you can also hit me up over at arrpee or zero#8942 on discord. i will match prose or brackets!]

jan 15th

[catpiper]

[It's hard to say the sight is unexpected.

There's few remaining who know what this illness is truly like and what's required to cure it-painful realizations and confessions that hurt just as much as the flowers covering their bodies. It doesn't shock her, for one second, that Tim's here.

Here in a patch of dirt that he probably plans to be buried in.

It's not like flowers aren't prickling her own skin and poking through her arms again. They aren't covering her with the same intensity as last year, but they're here and for Tim-

She wanted to check on him-see if he was mad or if he would look at her, despite her disappearance, unintentional as it was, but he hadn't been in his shack and the cat, thankfully, had led her back here, instead of letting her wander off to Denny.

Just in time to hear his words-

And see him, already seemingly void of all life.

Her own throat is scratchy and tight. Takes a couple seconds for her to say Tim, but it's quiet. Probably too quiet.

So she does what she can-takes a spot next to him and gently taps at the ground between them with her finger.]

I found you.

Jyushimatsu Matsuno | OTA except for one prompt | Can match your formats!

[yakyuuman]

i; open your heart to one of the worst people on earth

[ By now, Jyushimatsu had been in this bizarre world long enough to understand that everytime cool buddy pal Water brings a new island forth, some bad shit happens. And he also learned from Ichimatsu that such sickness that's mysteriously similar to the fictional thing he's read sometimes about people coughing up flowers when they're not being honest has once again made its outbreak here, and it's not pretty at all for anyone involved.

Fortunately for Jyushimatsu, his heart is full of honesty... for the most part, but still honest enough to get that sickness away from his system. He's not really afraid to confess how much of a bad person he is and how he's fond of all the people he's personally fond of, including family and the few friends he's got around.

Unfortunately for everyone else, he's made it clear he wants to help people be more honest so they can be cured, and the way to go about it was to make himself a roughly bootlegged stand in the middle of the camp, with a messily written message that reads

"DOCTOR JYUSHIMATSU IS HERE FOR ALL YOUR HONESTY TROUBLES"

and sit there, all smug and hopeful and especially happy with his gaping maw of a smile, waiting for his next patient.

This is not unsettling at all. Giving it a shot wouldn't hurt you, right? ]

ii; baby shark turu turu turu baby shark turu turu turu

[ Imagine this.

You might be chilling next to some body of water, and Jyushimatsu is also there for some reason. Either you're hanging out or he just happens to be a presence that you neither want or care for. Suddenly a ghost shark emerges from the water and attacks you! Jyushimatsu lets out a warrior-like scream, ready to charge at it with his hatchet in both sleeves.

Please stop him before he gets himself eaten. Please. ]

iii; wobbledogs are fucking dumb i want 300 (CLOSED TO FAUST)

[ So, Jyushimatsu decided to head for the clinic because he scraped his knees while trying to roll down a large molehill. Don't ask.

He would expect many weird things to happen in hell island, but a pack of morbidly weird dogs piling up near the clinic wasn't one of them! Jyushimatsu stares in wonder at the mass of wobbledogs wobbling around, and... ]

Holy shit!

[ ... it's instantly love.

Extremely wide and shiny eyes are next directed at the abnormally tall paperbag man standing amongst the pack, and with a vicious desire to adopt every single one of these dogs that share the same dumbass energy as him, he asks: ]

How much do you want for them? I don't have money but I can produce them with magic or something PLEASE I WANT ONE OF THESE I BEG OF YOU KIND STRANGER!

iv; i've only had this wobbledog for a day half but if anything happened to him i would kill everyone in this room and then myself

[ And now he's got a wobbledog! Nice! Perfect! It's a boy and his name is Strike One, after one of the best baseball terms he knows of. He's planning to also adopt a Strike Two and Strike Three when he's stable enough to feed all three of them without starving himself to death.

And that's it! You can find him in an open area or at the camp playing with his new odd pet, either chasing each other or rolling in the snow. Whatever they're doing, it'll stop when Jyushimatsu's eyes will lock on yours, and then he's next seen holding up his precious wobbledog while screaming at you. ]

Look at this beautiful baby boy! LOOK AT HIM! I love him! He's mine now and I love him so much!

[ Strike One, meanwhile, is probably staring into your soul with its round and unblinking eyes, tongue lolled out. ]

v; wildcard

[ Anything that doesn't fall under these prompts can be plotted out! Hit me over PM, gaiamemories or our Discord server. ]

ii

[suspecteverything]

[Jules had generally been ignoring Jyushimatsu while he'd sat on the beach. Normally the place was empty, but he can deal with the occasional company as long as it generally leaves him alone. What he definitely wasn't expecting was the extra company they both got. He shoots to his feet, hand already going to the blade over his back.]

What the minsid hell is that thing?

[And why is this idiot screaming and running at it?]

the drifter | ota | i'll match your format!

[hyperlit]

i. january 5th ; monsun ; i know there's no decision (just collision)

[They don't notice the sickness at first; why would they? They have always been sick. There have always been blood sores and blisters festering away at them, tearing them apart piece by piece. They have always endured in spite of that.]

[It has been some time since they've set foot on Monsun. And things are different now, so...they go.]

[They must wander through the frozen wasteland first, and they don't get as far as they'd like. The Drifter ends up on their knees, wracked with paralyzing spasms, which is the only warning they get before something grates at their awareness.]

[Something terribly, darkly familiar.]

[Oh, no.]

[Their blade buzzes to life as they turn to face it - that hulking, terrifying thing made of shadow and trailing pink and static light. It towers over them, flashing its sickly rhomboid eye at them.]

[They rush it immediately. Their blade passes harmlessly through it, and they tumble, rolling across the ground and leaving deep gouges in the unmarked snow.]

[They immediately start coughing again.]

[They can't fail. Not now. No matter how hard it gets - they will not let it take this world. Not this one.]

[They will fight it as long as they must.]

ii. january 10th ; islet 1 ; step out beyond the edge and start the motion
cw: mild body horror, blood

[Fresh flowers poke out from underneath the Drifter's mantle, pockmarking their blueish skin. Whitish hellebore blooms dot their striking complexion like reverse polka-dots. The seams where their gloves meet their greaves are rimmed with soft yellow cups that protrude out from underneath the metal and the fabric. A fringe of dark violet petals sprout from underneath the collar of their cloak, their tips stained with the pinkish tint of the Drifter's bright blood.]

[They cough, shoulders shaking silently. And then they crouch over the blooms in the Knight's old garden, and focus on their work.]

[They have confessions that must be made. They should live. They should want to live, because that is the one thing they have always endeavored to do, more than anything else, and yet now...]

[Right now, they are so very, very tired.]

[They are tired beyond the telling of it.]

[They will get up and they will find a way to endure. Eventually. It will just take them some time, is all.]

[Some time to discern what it is they might need to surrender, in order to continue.]

iii. january 12th ; ensō ; i won't become a number in the system, zeroes and ones
cw: body horror

[In the jungles of Ensō, a lithe shape sways on the spot, silently.]

[Tattered red fabric still clings to it in patchwork places. The worn metal of an old helmet still remains fixed to its head, and its hands are still pointed at the fingertips, almost like claws. But most of it has been overcome by thick, armorlike growths of multicolored fungus. Whitish sheathes have layered over its chest and stomach, dotted intermittently with blots of yellow sacs that pulsate faintly, laden with fungal spores. Most of its face has been claimed by a fuzz of pale lavender that hemorrhages splotches of scarlet-colored sap in a slow, sticky drip. Only a few patches of bright blue skin remain unmarred to distinguish what it once was - that, and of course, the Drifter's striking red cloak, which still remains in shreds, clinging to what's left of their body.]

[The thing that has replaced them is, for the most part, still, and quite silent.]

[Until, that is, it hears something.]

[Then it commences to tear after the target with unrelenting speed. Unlike the Drifter, its endurance seems to have gotten quite a boost - it can keep up the chase for quite some time, uttering little more besides faint, gurgling breaths as it rips after its victims in vicious pursuit. It has none of the Drifter's cunning or wit, and does not use weapons. It has been reduced to little more than brute, animal instinct.]

[Even the fabricated soldier they were made to be had more finesse than this.]

iv. wildcard ; if i should choose to rise, i'm still descending

[as always, i will happily whip up any closed starters that you might desire. you can also hit me up over at arrpee or zero#8942 on discord. i will match prose or brackets!]

Jan 5th

[forwearemany]

(To return is unwise. Their previous visit to Monsun nearly destroyed them.

But the lure of the Geth, of being connected to the collective again, is overwhelming, even if it is not real.

Their journey is halted, however, by the sight and sound of movemrnt on the ice. Their eye focuses, zooms in, their visual program increases frames taken per second to better analyze what they see.

...Drifter?

It is easy enough to extrapolate from their own experiences and determine what is likely going on.

They are also aware that fighting will not help.

The Drifter, however, is clearly not.

Abandoning their own objective, Legion begins to run towards the Drifter, and whatever spectre threatens them.)

Héctor | OTA | cw body horror

[vagabone]

sucky times ahead

[He's huddled outside his own house, petrified. Not five feet away lies a tiger doubling as a mobile garden, lazily sunning itself, and he flinches every time he catches it looking his way. The weird leafy animal hasn't made a move yet, but it certainly looks as deadly as any tiger. And that's the least of his worries, honestly, because he already appears to be dead. Extremely deceased.

Because he's a skeleton. A flimsy, tottering collection of bones, with only a thin layer of worn out clothing for protection. No skin, no muscle, no fat, no organs. It's hard to keep it together... both his shitty excuse of a body and his sanity. He definitely screamed when he saw his own fleshless fingers for the first time, out here on this islet where no one can hear him. Screamed his nonexistent lungs out, staggered through the open door, getting nowhere before he stumbled and fell, lacking the experience necessary to keep his right leg attached. It's still lying there in the dirt, useless.

Everything aches. Is death supposed to be painful even after it's over? It feels like these porous bones are made of dust. Like they might shatter and crumble away with one wrong move. Cold dust. Emptiness. The feeling something's been forgotten, a thought on the tip of one's tongue, that's what he is now. A memory slipping away, or on the verge of coming back. He'd gone to sleep a perfectly healthy living man--now look at him.

(The tube fox responsible for this is long gone.)

And, like the tigerplant snoozing not far away, something's taken root in him. One innocent little blue blossom is growing out of a crack on his arm...]

lots of little buddies

[Everyone knows the cure by now, even Héctor. He's been told what to do and it's easy enough. He'd love to. He's been doing his best, actually, he's practically told his whole life story by now! It hardly matters that he's telling it to a bunch of strangers, some of whom are obviously not human. It's a good life story, full of happiness and wonderful people. Hour after hour, telling stories about his childhood, full of pranks and mischief and playing guitar with his friend 'Neto'. How what started as a simple desire to make a girl laugh and smile at him turned into love, and then marriage, and then... Coco. He paints a picture of the most beautiful little girl in the whole world, the light of their lives. The way every animal was 'squirrel' when she was starting to talk, her favorite foods, her love of flowers (ha), how he'd sing to her, how they laughed and danced...

Not a single word relevant to the present, none of it what he needs to get out. No, what he needs to confess is all gone, stolen away by a nasty little fox. He never had a chance. Horrible timing, isn't it? One of these things he could deal with, but not both.

Eventually he gives up, lying in his hammock under the blanket. Dry cracking bones, being devoured by blue flowers, crumbling away. He'd felt like they would, and now they are. It's agonizing, pain spiking when he tries to move. So he doesn't. Nothing he says is going to help him. The world has gone mad, none of it makes sense. He's dead and he'll die again, they're telling him. Death by flowers. Absolute insanity.

He just wants it to be over. Let him go home to his girls, please.]

a fun guy

[Of course it will be, though not soon enough. Over for him, not for everyone else. The blue flowers have hardened over his bones, bulking him up as it takes him over. Whoever happens to be sitting with Héctor when the end comes had better beware. It rolls itself out of the hammock, covered by something resembling scales... unnatural armor that won't slow the skeleton-thing down as it lunges at the first sound it hears.

Maybe it can be lured out the door, to wander free and stumble upon some other poor sap. Maybe.]

sucky times ahead

[onegreeneye]

[Someone, at least, heard him - if only barely. But when it comes to what sounds kind of like Hector screaming, barely is enough for Ginko to cross that awful bridge between the islets to try and track him down, lingering discomfort from his own tube fox encounter be damned.

At least he's close to his house - even if he seems to have lost a leg. That doesn't seem great.

Ginko has to slow to a stop before he actually reaches Hector, bracing a hand against the side of Hector's cottage as he catches his breath, but manages to get out the most important question here.] What-- what happened?

[forwearemany]

A) (Closed to Shepard)

(Legion does not yet recognize the symptoms of the disease that runs through their wires and circuitry.

They only notice the way their cooling systems fail to function adequately, despite surrounding temperature.

There are flowers blooming, deep in their chesthole, utterly invisible to anyone who doesn't look close.

They are making their usual rounds on Enso, dropping some stuff they harvested from the farming islet off at the Denny, checking up on the clinic, etc. when they encounter the tube foxes.

The theft is quick, effortless, the victim totally unsuspecting. Shepard will find her not quite friend collapsed on the ground, seemingly dead, though in reality, they've just had their charge stolen.)

B) Shark Week

(They're in their house when it happens.

They've been working on converting it into a museum for some time now, though progress has been significantly slowed due to events.

They are attempting to work on it now.

Previos task: Move nonessential items.

Current task: Remove debris, clean flooring.

For the purpose of this, they have acquired a container of water. And it's from that container that troble arises.

They're in the middle of cleaning up a particularly stubborn spot of old Geth blood when the Ghost Shark leaps from the water to attack them.

With a startled screech, they scramble back. The bucket, and its contents, spill everywhere.

This time, the Ghost shark comes leaping from the puddle.

Their alarmed chatter can probably be heard from every house on the islet as they burst outside and slam the door behind them.)


C) Overgrown

(They had become aware of the Overgrowth some time ago.

They have also made a confession. Others are aware of their secrets. Though the disease has shown minimal progression, the flowers in their chest hole have not withered.

They look down at themselves as they wander Enso, chattering uncertainly.

What must they do?

Should they spot an ally, they will attempt to get their attention.)

[atailoftwoworlds]

[And here is one ally. Zidane has managed to calm down the disease a little. Some of the flowers have fallen away and he has cuts and sores that he currently is trying to treat.

It's clear that what is going on has taken its toll on him. His usual cheerful, laidback demeanor is gone. First, the stuff that happened at Monsun and now this. He looks so weary from it all.

You might have to get his attention, Legion.]

Michael | OTA | cw: mild body horror

[eudaimonikos]

i. stolen (willpower)

[Michael didn't think a great deal about going out to chase the little fox away from his  house. He's done it plenty of times before; he's afraid they eat lorbies, and they definitely have a tendency to carry Potrick off. Even if he's not sure he considers the little walking hotpot strictly alive, watching its little legs flail in the air as it's stolen is just kinda pathetic.

What happened after he confronted the fox is a little blurry. It...maybe jumped him? But he's not hurt, and it's gone, so who cares? Who cares about anything, really?

Michael's just sort of sitting on the ground against a tree near his home now, staring listlessly at nothing in particular. Potrick the walking hotpot is happily walking into his side.]

ii. tongues of flame (overgrowth)

[Michael wasn't around for the initial outbreak of Overgrowth. People don't talk about it much; he only hears about it through whispers and rumors when the island, and then the disease, start to return.

At first, he figures he's fine. It would've killed him a year or two ago, but these days he doesn't lie half so much. He's not even hiding from the authorities anymore! People already know about his dark past; they know what he's done and who he is. There's nothing more he's holding back, right?

For a while, this holds true. But eventually, at some point, a coughing fit does strike him, too. When it's finished, Michael stares at the large red petal in his palm.]

...well, shit.

iii. psychiatric help (5 cents)

[Despite everything, Michael doesn't feel all that bad. He doesn't have all that many secrets, after all! The one thing he hasn't told any of his new friends - well, that's not such a big deal, is it? It's just one secret. Doesn't he deserve just that much?

So forget that. It's fine. He's fine.

It's everyone else who clearly isn't fine. A lot of people have already offered themselves up for confessions, so Michael doesn't see a need to put up another network post or anything. But during some of his regular time hanging out in Denny, he does put up a quick sign:]

DEMON CONFESSIONAL

Something to get off your chest? I literally have no room to judge!

[It's true enough. He can't condemn anybody else for doing bad shit - better they confide it in him than slowly become a flower zombie.]

the doctor is IN

[motherfucking_ghost]

...So, this goes for you, too?

[Denny's become a weird spot given the flower growing disease lying thing, and the ghost sharks making it near impossible for people to drink. So, perfect place to end up during the times he doesn't feel like just laying on the ground or in bed not moving feeling gross. His right arm's kinda borked, though. He can kinda swing it, the shoulder's still got moving gears, but the rest of it just feels like...grinding to a halt. And kinda staticky.]

Like, you're obviously doing the thing, too. With the flowers. Shouldn't we all just get in a big kumbaya circle and share our feelings?

Chip Abaroa | OTA

[demonpuppy]

Suck It Up

[The scuffle with the fox was confusing in and of itself. Chip checked all their belongings once the thing had been chased off, but there doesn't seem to be anything missing. The weird itch that won't go away is annoying, but it's not around the bite and claw marks so it can't have caused that. But for some reason, the thought that the encounter was anything at all mundane is...not right, somehow.]

[Chip goes about their business around Enso perfectly happily, watering crops at the farm and checking the bee hives...very carefully. Honey is good, but not being stung is way better. They're more cheerful than usual, and much more outgoing--they smile and wave to anyone passing by, where normally they would have maybe nodded shyly and hurried along. But then again, when you've forgotten what made you hate yourself in the first place, a lot can change.]

Budding (cw body horror)

[It's less terrifying this time around, if only because they know what it is. The itching under their skin and ache in their lungs still raises a spike of panic in them with each flare-up, but they know how to fix it. They know what they need to say, even the people they should say it to, but...finding the will to do so is the hardest part. And of course irony being what it is, their options of a cure narrow sharply not long after they begin to bud.]

[It could almost look like a bouquet stuck in their shirt if not for the small stain of blood at the edges of the fabric. They've still enough room to breathe, but Chip's vocal chords have been shredded by the roots of the flowers tearing through their flesh. Dandelions peek out from their shoulder and arms as well, and as Chip stares into a vacant distance trying to figure out what to do they scratch at them without thinking. At first only petal and stem fall to the ground from their efforts, but as they slowly wander their nails dig in harder and harder, until blood starts to drip down to their fingers.]

[They don't seem to have noticed yet.]

DOGGO DOGGO DOGGO

[You know something that Chip loves?]

[Dogs. They LOVE dogs.]

[So it's probably not that much of a surprise to see them romping through the woods with an entire pack of blasphemes against biology and geometry, waving a stick and laughing with glee. The mob seems to currently be in the middle of a complicated game of chase-fetch-zoomies, with the wobbledogs jumping to try and get the stick from Chip, and when they succeed it turns back around as Chip tries to get the prize back again.]

[Just, uh, maybe watch out so you don't get run over, yeah?]

Doggos!!

[salutosinedelectat]

[ Well, this has absolutely been a terrible month and Aziraphale has a lot on his mind.

Enough that he doesn't quite notice the fast approaching child and the entire colorful pack of wobbly creatures happily chasing them, until they're absolutely too close. He stops and blinks, looking behind him just in time. ]

Oh! [ He manages to step out of the way right in the nick of time, watches the strangest parade of creatures he's ever seen just trample on by. ]

mira | original, balance crau | ota

[philoxenia]

[ ooc; quick note for prior cr! she absolutely looks the same, I just changed her pb. also, take a look at her permissions for ability stuff! ]

try and face the world; overgrowth.

[ Boy, it sure is disorienting coming from one place to another. It's not her first rodeo, but she's still struggling a little to catch her footing here. Especially when she's also getting used to magic hitting her like a ton of bricks again. It's fine, though; she's dealt with worse. A lot worse.

Except for the fact that she's having to confront her biggest weakness: emotional honesty. Keith had helped her somewhat... but there are still things she'll never admit to anyone... who's here, anyway. She can think of a few back at the Bureau. But it's fine. Just because she's suffering doesn't mean that she can't help others.

Which-- if she comes across someone who's struggling, ]

How are you doing?

[ Her voice is pretty rough, but she sounds concerned. ]

words never once cut me down; tube foxes.

G-get back here!

[ Even though she's feeling the effects of the Overgrowth, this is... it's something she can muster up the strength to do, somehow. Or, she tries. Mira's currently in hot pursuit of a tube fox that has stolen something important: a leather-bound notebook. She stumbles a little, and scrambles up to her feet. ]

Give that back, that's important! Don't make me dance you into submission!

[ .... huh. That's an odd threat. ]

old feelings from new faces; wobbledogs.

[ She's, shockingly, feeling better near the end of the month. She loves dogs, and even if these look a little... strange... they're still very good boys and girls. Find her plopped down right in the middle of, perhaps, the direction you're trying to go through. She doesn't even notice. ]

You're all so cute... I wonder what you are, exactly...

[ The wobbledogs look at her curiously. They definitely like this attention, though. ]

please help me chop this tree down; wildcard.

[ Or hit me up for another starter! Or drop one here, I'm good for whatever. ]

wobbledogssss

[yakyuuman]

[ After weeks of unease being surrounded by sickly people with honesty issues, Jyushimatsu feels as though he really deserves a reward for withstanding the plague - and that comes to him quicker than he thought... actually, he didn't really expect it at all! Gods are so fickle and if they decided to give this NEET something nice, then hope is never lost!

In fact, he's holding one of the wobbledogs like it's a trophy, showing off its six wriggling paws. ]

They're the best things in this whole world! This one I called Strike One and he's mine!!!

[ He adopted it off Faust so it's Official or something. ]

Ginko | OTA

[onegreeneye]

A - tube fox aftermath; Enso, early in January, first come first serve/one taker only (unless i guess your character is Definitely not going to help him, that can just happen indefinitely)

Whatever some may say about his staying out as late into the morning as he often does, given the sun sensitivity being turned into a troll has left him with, he would argue that he’s gotten pretty good at heading home before it becomes a real issue. He knows his own limits, and the discomfort of early morning is within bounds of what he can manage; he knows he can get to the islet cottage before the light gets to be a real problem, no actual harm done.

That only means so much, though, when that choice is suddenly taken from him, and all he can think (somewhat bitterly) as he lies on the ground and holds onto what consciousness he can is that he should have known something was wrong with those foxes.

How, he's not sure, but he should have.

But what's done is done, and now the bigger issue is the fact that he can't move. The sun is rising, light prickling over his skin and moving from a needling discomfort to a harsh, stifling pressure that weighs in his head and chest, pushes his painfully racing pulse into his throat and slicks his hair and face with sweat; it doesn’t take long to crush any chance of Ginko moving himself to shelter to recover.

B - overgrown (again); Islet 5, through January; cw for body horror/likely blood

The aching and itching under his skin is… a little concerning, when it first starts. It could be any number of things, most of them bad, but he doesn’t want to panic before he knows what’s going on with him now.

He is still determined not to panic. There isn’t much to be done about the dread that burrows into his stomach when he finds the first signs of plant matter breaking through his skin, but he’s pretty well-practiced at managing dread.

But, even besides that dread and the pain of roots creeping through his flesh and wrapping around his bones, leaves forcing their way through his skin alongside deceptively delicate pink and white flowers, there’s a definite edge of frustration.

He knows, of course, that there’s no point in fuming over it being unfair that he has to do this all again. Plagues aren’t fair. Disease isn’t fair,, it simply is, and thinking of a manifestation of nature (or, maybe, some twisted corruption of nature) in terms of fairness would feel juvenile at best. But he really doesn’t want to do this all over again, and the plague’s re-emergence does make him wonder just what he’ll have to admit to to cure it this time around.

A lot has happened since the first outbreak, dragging things to mind that were so far from his thoughts before as to be almost irrelevant, and he’s really not looking forward to going over it with… anyone, really.

It’s tempting to either throw himself into his work again, trying to work out whatever other cures might have a chance of working - but, in his current state, trying would probably just bring more trouble from certain other islanders than it would actual results. So, while he spends what time he can at the clinic, he ends up resting at the little islet cottage with some frequency.

He supposes, theoretically, that he could find someone willing to talk and just go until he’s shed every flower on his body and probably his damn life story… but he really doesn’t want to go through that again, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to think of everything he’s got to at once, anyway.

(( OOC: If you want to do something outside these prompts, feel free to hit me up over PM, on Discord, or at omixgirl10! ))

A

[yakyuuman]

Jyushimatsu is, unlike all his other brothers, an early morning guy. The secret to having a perfect, baseball-inclined, hustle-muscle body is to exercise everyday no matter what stands in his way... be it the weather or monsters populating his current living place. Thankfully today is warm and he's hopeful he won't be chattering his teeth til consumption once he's at his favourite spot to practice swings with his hatchet.

But even someone so devoted to his daily routine finds himself facing a great dilemma when an obstacle the size of a golem stands in front of hi-... no, actually, it's laying in front of him, apparently dead.

A few careful steps towards the pile make him quickly realize he can identify it as Ginko, the big dude whom Ichimatsu gave weed to and he chatted amiably with at the party. Blinking, Jyushimatsu crouches down next to the man and, not too gently, starts poking him with the safe end of his hatchet.

"Wakey wakey rise and shine? Dude, are you even alive?"

He would feel a little bit put off if he was interacting with a corpse. Just a little bit.

Aziraphale | OTA

[salutosinedelectat]

I. At least they're not roses [Overgrowth]

[ He just thinks he's tired, at first. As far as he can tell, he's figured out how to do this semi-human-like physical needs thing, what with the eating and sleeping and such, and with how using magic affects it. But, one day, he's just tired, and sluggish, and he's fairly sure he hasn't done anything to warrant that so quickly.

He goes about his days, between the islets and Enso mostly, easily found in the library and in the Denny almost every day at some points of the day. As the days go by, he begins to forego any walks outside that main path, finding that sleep doesn't seem to be having the usual rejuvenating power it was having before. Even resting by the pools doesn't seem to really do the trick. A day, two, three, and things just seem to be getting worse, to the point he finds trouble in trying to get himself to the main group of buildings in Enso from the hut in the islets without taking a break.

And he's so...itchy.



One of the days further on, he's sitting in the Denny looking absolutely miserable. There's a small notebook in front of him which he's valiantly attempting to go through, but the words are starting to get jumbled and this just won't do.

And there's this cough, this persistent cough that won't back down no matter what he does, no amount of clearing his throat or taking sips of his drink seem to stop it. In fact, it seems to grow more severe, until he finds it quite hard to breathe.

The coughing fit that follows is less than graceful, for as much as he tries to cover it up. It rattles him to his core and he could well have done without it.

But what truly gets him is what seems to have been clogging his airways. Confused, he stares at a couple of small flowers in his hand - blue hydrangeas. ]



[ ooc: Characters can meet up with him at any scene, including stage two later on.]




II. Never did watch that one [Ghost shark]

[ It's just a break, a short one. After the number the flowers did on him, he figures it might be the best choice to take at least a day to recover. His corporation didn't take any of that in stride and he's still feeling pretty under the weather.

He strolls out idly out of the hut and into the garden right in front of it, with a cup of whatever tea he could get his hands on. When you look at things from this point of view, you could almost pretend they were just in some sort of holiday. A quaint, mostly empty cottage and a surprisingly well tended garden.

The angel has his eyes closed and is simply taking a deep, healing breath when it happens.

There is a shark.

Why is there a shark.


Let the record show that he does yell, he does throw that cup a staggering distance, and there is a bloody ghost shark in the fucking garden. ]



III. Make up your own clever title [Wobbledogs]

[ ...help? Help. There is a small, colorful, and strangely wobbly creature following him around and he doesn't know what to do about that. He's seen a good number of improbable creatures in this island already, but even in all their strangeness and newness, none of them looked quite so...

So...


Unnatural?

It has...many legs. Not a crazy amount of legs, but certainly too many for whatever it is meant to be. It has also too many eyes. And Aziraphale may not be an expert on zoology, but he also doesn't quite understand how exactly this thing is alive.

It doesn't seem malicious, though. Nor is it too loud. Nor does it seem like it might explode. In fact, it just seems to be following him around quite harmlessly.


He approaches the first person he can find with a polite inquiry. ]

Excuse me-

Do you have any idea what-- this may be? [ He gestures toward the creature. ]

IV. Wildcard

[ Or just do whatever you want, he's all around the islands at any given time. ]

III

[thermalwind]

Not a clue. [Keith says as he kneels down and studies the odd looking creature.]

Better than some of the things I’ve seen. How long has it been following you? [It clearly hasn’t tried to attack. That could change. He smells like alien wolf. He doubts his half Galra blood is that much of a problem when it followed someone for a while.

Him with his dully pointed ears and claws on the tip of his fingers might be as just another person.]

Looks sort of like a canine.

Albert Wesker | OTA

[enhancements]

[I. The more things stay the same. (Arrival)]

[So this...month? Year? Whatever we're counting it as, it's off to a great start; the only saving grace here is that this isn't the first time this specific thing has felt the need to happen to him. The beach, the waves, the...wet belongings come the fuck on, people, he wears leather-

Amyway, Wesker is up on his feet quickly enough, batting sand out of the long coat he's got on because he's absolutely dressed for islands in the tropics, and he's generally seeming slightly agitated but overall none the worse for wear. His voice is even when he speaks, at least, and he's perfectly willing to address whomever is reasonably nearby for the time being.]

I don't suppose a new plague has struck this place yet – the last one was actually entertaining.


[II. Sort of asking for it with that one, really. (Overgrowth)]

[Speaking of the new plague. The problem with Don't Be A Lying Asshole Disease tends to make itself rather well-known when one is, in fact, a lying asshole. It's just sort of what Wesker does with himself in his spare time, and also at pretty much every other time ever. He lies, he refuses to make himself vulnerable, he fucks with people. As one does?

So this entire business with the flowers is becoming horrendously inconvenient for a lot of reasons; he's been generally getting himself re-accustomed to the islands and the things that have changed since he was last here (and there are changes, and he can't say he disapproves of most of them, though he personally doesn't see what...use...a library is in a place like this), but it's the mana pool that's drawing his attention today – it's where he goes when his body is deciding to be spiteful at him, and while there isn't anything visible on him in terms of growth, it's a bit hard to miss when the coughing fit takes him, along with more flowers and blood than should ever really accompany such a thing.]

I assume the cure for this is going to be inconvenient.

Quentin Sollys | OTA

[blindfoster]

[ 1. Tube Fox ]

Strange creatures aren't exactly a new thing in Quentin's life. Faerie is full of them, and being squired to the local Hero of the Realm means that he plays beastie combat, containment, and relocation more often than he's exactly thrilled about. So the odd little dancing fox doesn't send off immediate alarm bells so much as raising the usual wariness in him. Magical creatures shouldn't be underestimated.

And yet, he's still tearing after the thing yelling. He's hard to miss, the tube fox fleeing and a young blond fae man running after it, cursing up a storm. "Hey! Stop that thing it... it stole something!" But he can't remember what. He can't remember several things that feel like they should be important (including his sister's name, and when he realizes that he'll be inconsolable), and that is the problem. At least he knows enough about magic to realize what's happened.

"Get back here you little jerk!"


[ 2. Overgrowth (Germination --> Budding) ]

You know who doesn't get sick? Pureblooded Fae, that's who. And yet here is one (1) Quentin Sollys, pure-blooded Daione Sidhe, who is currently a feverish mess who doesn't know what to do with himself at all. Since he's never had to deal with being ill in his nineteen years, he has no idea at all what to do with himself. What to most people would be second nature -- resting, staying hydrated, that whole thing -- is not to Quentin. Abstractly he knows. He's been around humans. He's seen movies, read books.

And yet here he is, wandering around the islands looking like he's half in a daze.

When the world spins, he finds himself leaning against a tree. Maybe if he just... sits down and shuts his eyes. Yeah.

That seems like a good idea. Quentin slumps down against the tree, shutting his eyes.

Someone take pity and help him before he winds up gnawed on by the local wildlife?

He's on his way back from a mana pool when the first coughing fit takes him. It's not the first, and it's likely not to be the last. But it's a bad one, and it has him doubling over as he's wracked with coughing, a hand up to cover it. That doesn't do as much as he'd like, and a vaguely bloody little bouquet spills forth. Now that is a first, and Quentin stares at the petals in his hand in surprise and confusion and -- with a wrinkle of his nose -- a bit of disgust. "Gross." But also it hurts to breathe, and he's not sure what is going on. "How am I coughing up flowers?" Someone enlighten him? And tell him there's a way to stop this?

Another fit of coughing, another cascade of petals, white heather and pale pink cyclamen and bluebells. He's Daoine Sidhe, descended from Titania, and flowers and flower magic are in his blood -- but not like this, usually.


[ 3. Wildcard ]

Catch-all for finding Quentin around and about the islands through the months.

2

[suspecteverything]

Usually Jules doesn't get involved with other people. It's better to keep his distance for a variety of reasons. This time though, he can't help it. He can tell this kid is new here, and he can't turn away. Nineteen is still a kid no matter what Quentin - or any other 19 year old - might say.

"Because this place uses us a puppets for its own entertainment. The more torture it can put us through the better. Might as well try to get used to it. Happens all the minsid time."

It seriously pisses Jules off, but he's going really going to go into that right now. Quentin needs help. Thankfully this isn't the first time Jules has dealt with this crap. He knows the cure for it, though Quentin probably isn't going to like it.

agent washington | ota | i'll match your formatting!

[counterblows]

i. january 5th ; ensō ; as soon as i get my gun i'll point it out the window at the setting sun

[He recognizes the petals that swell out from the back of his neck and fan out down his spine and along his arms. He recognizes the sharp smell of rosemary and the soft, pale blue blooms.]

[The yellow ones, though. Those are new.]

[He recognizes those too.]

[They were hers. C.T.'s.]

[He has little doubt that this was intentional. A way to twist the knife, or maybe a way to indicate to him that his means of fending off the Overgrowth the last time won't have the same effect. Clearly, he's still got plenty of secrets still festering in his soul. What the fuck else is new? All he does is carry secrets, it feels like.]

[Still, that doesn't mean he's not going to fight the symptoms. You'll most likely find Wash sat out on one of the beaches, sans armor, trimming the petals poking their way through his skin with one of his knives, his face set into an expression of grim determination.]

ii. january 13th ; ensō ; can i bleed enough to fill up what the engine takes?

FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUCK!

[Someone didn't get the shark memo. Wash is running backwards, opening fire on the hulking, ghostly great white that's currently doing an excellent job of erupting from nearby puddles of moisture in one of Ensō's dripping jungles. In all likelihood, you'll hear him before you see him, assuming the sound of a BR55 battle rifle doesn't scare you off.]

[This would be a perfectly valid reaction.]

iii. january 22nd ; nuidan ; they'll put me on vacation underneath the sun

[Wash is grateful, at least, that he's managed to survive the Overgrowth twice over, now. He was certainly happy enough to take a break from it all by heading to Nuidan, in particular its northern region. And among the grassy fields of livestock and wheat and grains, exists...]

[...uh, things.]

[They're not harmful things. Wash regards them warily for a time before finally creeping close enough to let some of these creatures sniff at his hands here and there. And a few days later, you might find him willingly scritching one of these wobbledogs behind the ears.]

Hey. Hey, buddy. [He's not as warm as he would be with, say, something of the feline persuasion such as Ami, but he's not unfriendly to them either. He scratches at the ears of a six-legged specimen, somewhat tentatively.] You're a cute one, huh?

[It turns, revealing that it has three eyes on one side of its face, and pants happily.]

...uh-huh. Uh, I mean, aww. I guess.

iv. wildcard ; i'm old enough to die for your mistakes

[as always, i will happily whip up any closed starters that you might desire. you can also hit me up over at arrpee or zero#8942 on discord. i will match prose or brackets!]

January 13th

[forwearemany]

(They were intending to avoid their ...ally, unless he personelly indicated that he did, in fact, want to resume alliance, but the sound of trouble brings them running.)

Washington-Agent!

[deathfindsaway]

i. [germination] i don't say too much / cuz' I don't wanna say the wrong thing

[At first, it just seems like a tiredness that seeks into his bones. Kravitz knows he's been pushing himself too hard lately, but it's the only thing to stave off how empty his camp feels at night, how he's largely only been talking to his bird for company. But he still forces himself up and goes to the library, even if that means he's leaning over on the desk more, taking a breather in a chair more than he's working. He's fine, he tells himself. He's fine.

Or well, he'd like to believe that, but he's nearly asleep on the desk when you enter, causing him to jerk up with a small cough.]

Uhm, hello, I-- do you need something? I... wasn't sleeping.

[Great.]

ii. [budding] you don't care too much / a confession isn't your style

[It doesn't progress the way he thinks it will. While Kravitz is expecting the red, delicate flowers that spread from his back in vines up his veins, the delicate blooms that do emerge are much different this time. At first they're tiny, dotted flowers, but they quickly swell into thick blooms from the point at which they emerge. Unlike the last instances, these flower mostly from the back of his head among his dreads, over his left shoulder almost like a cloak, inching towards his heart.

He wonders if that means something. It probably does, but he doesn't quite have the energy to have that kind of introspection.

At this point, he's abandoned the library in favor of trying to find people. Unlike others who know what's going on and are ready to die again, Kravitz is fairly determined to not go out this time. The problem, though, is the same as it was the first time the Overgrowth came around- he doesn't know exactly what he's supposed to be confessing about. Kravitz thinks he's been pretty straightforward, but he doesn't have the comfort of his family at the start to avoid others and cure it this time around. So he's out, trying to seek out people who look otherwise affected-- or just possibly bored.]

Uhm, hello-- sorry to bother, but. I do know how we can cure this, if you're willing to have an honest discussion.

iii. [wildcard] i stay awake at night / i make believe that i'm not alone

[Have something else you want to do or want to discuss another prompt? Hit me up via PM or at cancerously and we can plot!]

ii.

[postictal]

[Tim's picking away at the little buds of snowdrops creeping up the lengths of his arms, trying not to think about anything in particular. When he sees him...well, that's not a fucking surprise, is it? He called it, more or less. It's not even remotely a surprise at this point.]

Well, that's a step up from last time, huh?

[His tone is flat. Naturally, he doesn't seem the least bit shocked.]

beau | ota | standard cw for blood and body horror throughout

[lesbeau]

i. [sharks] call the neighbor kids, the trash can lids / with buckets on their heads

[Most people, when they hear 'there are sharks that can come out of any bit of water and will eat you', might think that they'll stay away from water. And to Beau's credit, she does take the time to establish that these are the only facts she'll need for this scenario. They do appear to just be sharks- they can be hit, and it's just inconvenient that they come from any water source.

To that end, she's going to go fight them.

So Beau can be found down on the beach with her staff, shifting her weight on her feet and looking out to the ocean. Everything seems still and peaceful, just for a moment...

And then a shark leaps out of the water, and Beau slams it in the nose with her fist before smacking it back into the water with her staff. It's like baseball, if baseball was shark-based. She certainly seems to be enjoying it, if the loud laughter is anything to go by.]

That's right, fuckers! Come at me! Try it again, I dare you!

ii. [overgrowth] find some cover / kill the lights / and nail the back door shut

[Beau's read a lot about the process of the Overgrowth, what it means and how it manifests. Despite the amount of time she's spent researching it, she just figures she's gotten a cold when it's come around; she tries to sleep, tries to eat well, tries to work it out of her.

It doesn't work.

In fact, she realizes that it doesn't work when she's out in the morning close to the Denny, pushing herself through her daily workout despite the dizziness in her head and the clogging in what feels like every joint. But in the middle of a high kick, the knee holding her up gives out and she falls, coughing until she feels blood and something else lodge out of her lungs.

At first they don't look like flowers; it's simply stringy bits, as if she's swallowed pine needles. But when the first few petals begin to emerge, she stays on her knees, looking at them while her mind whirls and she mutters to herself.]

... Well, shit.

iii. [wildcard] i'd much rather choke and die than sit alone and fall without a fight

[Have something else you want to do or want to discuss another prompt? Hit me up via PM or at cancerously and we can plot!]

glass shaaaaaaark

[demonpuppy]

[Chip had been staying well away from water ever since finding out about the sharks--at least not without Erika around. But Beau's ruckus is enough to catch their attention and they creep over to her section of the beach, stopping among the foliage just short of where soil properly gives way to sand. They watch her fighting with wide eyes, caught somewhere between confusion and awe over the whole scene.]

[But watching Beau go to town on these sharks, they get an idea of how to help. Chip carefully pulls together a tangled little weave of magical power, concentrating hard to be sure their intent is properly made real, and pushes it into Beau when they're sure it's ready.]

[Assuming Beau doesn't resist it, the effect is...not entirely unlike Haste, overall. A burst of physical energy and speed, but accompanied by a vague and undirected rise of aggression that might take someone off-guard. Chip only put a small amount of power into it, but it's still potent.]

ren | ota

[catpiper]

A

[This is the rudest awakening she's had in a long, long while. She doesn't know how much time has past or what's occurred during her absence-hasn't managed to track down everyone yet because-

She remembers this illness. Knows what it's capable of and what can stop it-doesn't know what it's doing here, because they had condemned that island and said those painful goodbyes to the robot that's currently laid to rest there.

But those buttercups prickle at her arms-skin that's thankfully covered by the same poncho she wore last year. It's exhausting to look at them and she has 99 other problems to unfortunately deal with before this particular one. She knows what cures it and how painful it's going to be if she doesn't.

And as much as she would like to deal with that particular issue, there's a different problem at hand.

Just like last time, she can't get enough to drink and unfortunately that water has a fun surprise that didn't exist during this disease's last appearance.

Which is why you'll find her-or rather hear her-from the depths of a leafy tree when someone gets close enough-]

Lobstar's uncle is being very mean! You have to hide, hide!

B

[There's something to be said about the bond between a girl and her wobbledog-

Namely, it doesn't exist and she's not sure what to with the excitable, twenty legged beast that's rolling around in front of her. It's so much, honestly. She thought to bribe it with treats, then treasure and-

It's while she's digging a hole in the ground to find some new shinies that the dog starts to join her-using its big ole face and multitude of paws to throw the dirt around erratically. Which is like, fun actually. She's more than happy to play in the storm of dirt and anyone that comes by-

Will immediately get a dirt ball to the gut. Whoops. Sorry.]

b

[philoxenia]

[ There are worse things to get lobbed in the stomach with, it's fine. Mira doesn't really even think much of it; she's more curious than anything. So she kneels down close to where Ren is. ]

Have you found anything special?

[ It's Mira--she looks familiar, sounds familiar, but there's no recognition in the way she looks at Ren... Even that should be familiar. Horrible. ]

Castor | OTA | CW: Blood, body horror, anxiety attack Very small Shadowbringers Spoilers in prompts

[littlemhigan]

[1]

[ Castor is seldom ill.

So seldom, in fact, that she completely misses the first symptoms as they creep up on her, attributing her fading appetite and upset stomach to a bit of overwork, blaming her sleeplessness on the island’s muggy heat.

Its not until she wakes to a deep discomfort in her joints and the odd itchy hive dotting her skin does she finally realize something may be wrong. She feels the flush on her cheeks. Her stomach is still upset, and she wonders if she’d finally eaten something off enough to finally do her in.

She tries to work it off, but overheats too quickly and seeks the shade of the tree instead, curling up in the cool loam at it’s base as she sweats through her clothing and heaves as though she’d just run the whole way to Othard and the whole way home. It’s hard to draw in breath. She feels like she’s suffocating, she feels tight and sore, like something’s crawling under her skin and a thrill of fear jolts her back out into the sunlight as she scrambles to inspect herself for…

She begins to hack and wheeze then, her system overtaxed by illness and fear. She coughs and coughs, deep and low and phlegmy, coughs until she can feel something building in her throat that she can’t swallow back down and -

Red and violet splatter against the ground.

She only notices the former. Red. It’s Red not…

Perhaps a smile isn’t the right reaction to this, but Castor can’t help herself.]


[2]

[ Her coughing didn’t stop. The itching under her skin didn’t stop.

As the sun sets, Castor’s laid out on her side the beach, having sought a measure of comfort in the sight of the endless waters around the island. Every inch of her aches to simply lie here, but moving had become almost unbearably painful hours ago. Even her coughing has grown weak and she can’t help the odd whine of pain as more violet hyacinth petals and blood pool below her.

Across her back and shoulders, dark crimson roses have bloomed, some beginning to wind down her arms and tangling with the hyacinths that have begun to sprout along them in a pretty, if not macabre display. Her legs are likewise hobbled - bursts of red and purple at her knees dictating her resting place more than her own will had.
She remembers, even in the haze of fever and pain, painting flowers on trees. Ren’s fear made sense now.

She wishes Emet-Selch had turned that gun on her, instead. ]

[3]
[ Hit me up or BYOP. No zambies plz im baby ; 3; ]

2.

[thermalwind]

[He walks up the beach with the slow fluid glide of a trained fighter in enemy territory. At a glance he moves the same as he ever has but a closer look reveals the way he picks his footing, every step measured and calculated.

His right arm and neck are bandages with stripes of clean linen bandages, white set against his tan skin. In times of stress Keith’s eyes are closer to utterly inhuman and today the setting sun enforces the yellow color of his cornea.

He turns his head and catches sight of her and his eyes widen. He breaks into a sprint, tearing his way up the shore like a wild animal let loose. He skids to a step far enough away not to spray her with sand and sea water.

Keith takes the rest of the steps slowly, hissing between his teeth. A light sheen of sweat plasters his hair to his face. Up close with his shirt riding up, more bandages cross over his hips and further up, hidden by his plain black shirt. He kneels down, the usual intensity of his gaze reduced to open concern.] Hey.

I have water and food, if you want it. And answers...if you want those too.

Izuku "Deku" Midoriya | OTA

[heroondecku]

A: Overgrowth (CW for body horror, anxiety, possibility for talk of severe long-term bullying)

[At first Izuku doesn't seem to be suffering the worst of the Overgrowth. He's not acting too terribly sick, and the flowers he gets are spontaneous and brief: hydrangeas or bluebells filling his hair as he downplays some thing he's been complimented on or thanked for, amaryllis slowly blooming down his neck the longer a social event goes on. They don't hurt, not really, and even if they didn't wither away on their own it's honestly not that hard to drag whatever's causing them out of him. Izuku's an openly emotional kid, and even when he does try to keep his feelings under wraps he still ends up wearing his heart on his sleeve in one way or another. It seems like he's just not the sort of person terribly at risk.

At first.

It happens slowly, enough so that even he might not have realized it right away. They bloom from his arms, one by gradual one, in no particular pattern and with no immediate trigger. And unlike the rest of his flowers, these ones don't go away. At all. Catch him off guard and you might actually see him staring at his arms in distress, because...well. He recognizes these flowers, and they're not exactly something he wants to have growing out of him.

Catch his attention, and watch him briefly panic as he rushes to get some kind of smile on his face and hide his arms...and their steadily increasing collection of bright red spider lilies.]

Uh, h-hi, can...can I help you?

B: TINY WOBBLEAWOOS TEN HOURS UNSKIPPABLE

[Izuku has no idea what these weird, wobbly creatures are, but he kind of likes them. They're a far sight better than a lot of the wildlife he's encountered on the islands. And to be honest, while they're weird they're not...excessively weird. It's a species made entirely of different heteromorphic Quirks, that's the coolest thing he's ever seen in his life.

...second coolest. Sorry wobbly dogbeasts, you're no All Might.

Still, sometimes they have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places - and naturally he gets them out (what does it mean that he's getting DOGS out of trees???) - and leaving behind, uh, presents. Izuku's always happy to help clean up after wobbledogs Occur, but today he has discovered that sometimes the presents are eggs. Eggs that apparently decide the perfect time to hatch is right when a helpful person is moving them somewhere safer.

Greetings fellow islanders, please ignore the tiny baby wobbledog with permanent anxietyface living in his shirt now, he has no idea if they imprint and he's scared to find out so it's just His Now.

He has no idea what he's doing, please send help.]

B!!!

[yakyuuman]

WHOA! PUPPY!

[ It just happens that today Jyushimatsu is taking his faithful, wobbling dog on a leisure walk after they ran about 500 laps together all around the camp's entire diameter. Unfortunately, his voice is not indoor enough to hide the pleased surprise at the sight of such a tiny baby wobbledog snuggling inside a shirt, and he just had to let those overwhelming emotions out, pouring them on the poor boy.

Strike One, his wobbledog, doesn't stop vibrating for a second as it stares up at the stranger and tiny puppy combo with extremely unfocused eyes. ]

Hahaha! It looks just like you! Glad to see more people are snatching them up from the wild!

Erika Fisher | OTA | cw for body horror, all that good overgrowth stuff

[bitch4bitch]

[This is stupid. It’s stupid and she hates it. They already did this shit, right? Spilled their guts to whoever would listen or died in their refusal, so why should they have to do it all again?

Part of her is tempted to start ripping the flowers out all over again, but she remembers how that went last time. She does her best to keep from messing with them at all, in fact, but…

Ugh.

She’s kneeling by one of the animal pens, fixing a bit of fencing, when she feels the familiar tightness that comes before that painful, hacking cough. She hides her mouth behind her arm before it hits, then spits the resultant mouthful of petals onto the ground. Fucking gross.] Y’know, I thought-- if you had a disease once already, you were supposed to be resistant to it or somethin’ after that.

(( OOC: only managed one prompt this time BUT if you wanna do something with one of the other parts of the event, hit me up over PMs or at omixgirl10 ! ))