Rules and Information
Sticky: Jan. 6th, 2034 10:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The OOC Community for non-RP chat, event and muse suggestions, and anything else OOC can be found here. Please join and intro yourself there! We also have a community Discord, which members can gain access to by PMing the mod account. Because we are invite only, membership to the main DR community is pending mod approval. Existing players who are not in the discord may submit their invites here. For any pressing mod concerns, you may contact us either in the Discord, PMs, or on a contact post here. Comments are screened for your privacy!
Now, onto the community rules and information...
( Terms of the Contract... )
[Network] [Open]
Jun. 6th, 2025 04:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
It's got a comfortable amount of space and I've added a chair and a speaker - since music is supposed to be quite important for growth, according to studies. I'm already looking forward to taking care of them in here, even with the inevitable hard work.
It'll be my first foray in quite a while raising something that isn't an AI! ʱªʱªʱª (´ᗢू`∗)
I'm sure they'll keep me quite busy.
All of that said, I've never furnished a nursery before. Any advice on furnishing the space would be appreciated.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Jun. 2nd, 2025 02:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Gorb balloons. Streamers. Banners that not only read, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GORO AKECHI! but also...
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR FRIENDSHIP!
This particular banner has cutesy illustrations of a normal Akechi and Falcon. Yes, really.
There are multiple, multi-layered cakes. One is an angel food cake, decorated to resemble Robin Hood. Then there's another cake, fashioned after Loki, with lovingly decorated dazzle camouflage frosting. Inside is a heavenly red velvet.
Lastly, there's a purely chocolate delight, patterned after Hereward.
There are even little Gorb cupcakes, designed to look like the myriad Akechis resident in the Velvet Room. Fresh brewed coffee and Jazz Jin mocktails await those who seek a beverage, and there's even some curry. How thoughtful!
So... care to mingle?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
It was the 23rd of May.
Maruki had been keeping an eye on the dates for weeks now. A small, red circle marked the number neatly on the calendar that sat atop his study desk, drawn in with the same meticulous care he applied to nearly everything else in his life. He’d told himself—promised himself—that he’d come up with something thoughtful for Ichinose’s birthday. Something more than the usual gestures. Something that said he’d been paying attention.
There had been a few complications, of course.
Ichinose said she had arrived in summer, and there was always the chance she’d already celebrated her birthday before meeting them—quietly, or not at all. He had tried watching her closely on the 6th, just in case. But her expression hadn’t shifted. No sign of expectation. No sulking. No joy. Nothing that screamed "this is a day for me."
Maybe he should’ve wished her a happy birthday then and there. But back then, he had been swamped—tangled in his research, consumed by the ever-growing list of patients, papers, the mess of his project. And of course, Morning.
Morning had taken priority.
It hurt him to keep the boy in the dark for so long—the Akira from another universe who was his son inadvertedly, one he never expected to meet. Every instinct told him to protect, to nurture, to give. So that’s what he’d done. The kid had already missed too much. Maruki couldn’t let him miss anything else.
So yes. Life had been full. Bursting, even.
But today was for them.
He had taken Morning along with him to the lab under the pretense of needing help with a light calibration test—some throwaway excuse he knew Morning wouldn’t question too deeply. Ichinose was already there when they arrived, nose-deep in her work, and Maruki only smiled faintly before excusing himself.
“Sorry, I’ve got to run a quick errand. Won’t be long,” he said, grabbing his coat. “Just don’t let Morning fall asleep in my chair again, yeah?”
Then he slipped out, coat flaring slightly behind him, and headed straight to the place where the real work was already underway.
Back at his apartment, the lights were dimmed low to hide the still-in-progress decorations. Modest balloons, two cakes waiting in the fridge. There was even a small hand-made banner hung clumsily above the kitchen archway that read: Happy Birthday!!—with the letters slightly crooked in their tape. Not his best visual work, but it had heart.
Maruki stood near the window now and occasionally peeked through the peephole of the entrance door at every small sound from the hallway, every shuffle of feet. He spotted them just a block away. Not yet. Still a little time.
He turned back into the room, brushing off his hands and checking that the candles were still tucked safely in their packaging.
"Hamu—uh, Hamuko-san?" he called out softly toward the kitchen. "They’re on their way here. Just got the text." He had messaged them that he's out to get groceries.
He moved to adjust one of the streamers that had started drooping again—tape failing, or humidity, he couldn’t tell which.
“I think this might actually work,” he murmured, almost to himself. A faint, nervous smile tugged at his lips as he looked over everything one last time. The table was set. The gifts- to an extent, the food, the soft jazz in the background.
Now all that was left was for the door to open.
And the moment of surprise to land.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
-----> PROMPT ONE: reawakening
He wakes up choking on the scent of velvet.
His body feels like scorched iron—like someone left him in a fire to melt and pulled him out too late. There’s pain in his hands, sharp and residual, and his mouth tastes like blood and dirt. The couch beneath him is soft, too soft, and it's wrong. Everything is wrong.
He gasps. Sits upright.
His white winter coat—charred, soot-licked, ruined—clings to him like a funeral shroud. There are black streaks where the fabric burned, and brown-red stains where it didn’t. A pipe clinks against the couch’s side, connected to the bag resting near his foot. The bag’s zipper is partially open, a shotgun muzzle poking through like some final judgment.
And for a long moment, Takuto Maruki just… breathes.
Smoke in his lungs. Blood under his nails. Akira’s face above him, blood-spattered and pale, machete stuck hilt-deep in his chest. I’m sorry too he says just as he sees the face of another young man.
His hope.
Goro. The dead boyfriend.
Dying out just as quickly as it awakened. Like cinders.
He remembers that. His last memory.
The pain blooms slow. His limbs ache from disuse or death—it’s hard to tell. The char at his collarbone crackles when he moves, and when he reaches to rub his neck, his fingers freeze.
There's no bandage over his left eye.
He hisses and leans forward, feeling around his face. His face is aged, grey clinging to brown dark hair with eye circles so deep that they might as well be the burrows of his own grave. He digs a trembling hand into his coat. Pistol. Familiar. He keeps going.
There's...a woman standing before him. He doesn't pull up his gun just yet. She's wearing interesting attire. Blue.
She has an emergency gauze. Small mirror. She has some tools as well but Maruki merely snatches the bandage and sets the mirror on his lap.
He doesn’t call for help. Just starts wrapping the gauze one-handed, clutching the mirror awkwardly in his lap. The wound hasn’t reopened, but it's gorey. Red in all the wrong places. Deep and ugly.
His breathing evens.
The room is quiet. Gentle music plays from nowhere. Everything smells like lavender and old paper. Or not. Where is he? It's shrouded in blue. Somehow, he imagined a less calming afterlife than this and then, and then—
Just as he's properly tying off the bandage on his head- it would whip at the direction of foosteps coming his way.
-----> PROMPT TWO: conspiracy board
Maruki stares at the board like it owes him an apology.
Red thread. Maps, maybe. Diagrams with scribbled arrows and underlines and huge, frantic circles. But none of it—not a single word—makes sense.
He doesn’t speak Japanese.
He never needed to. Born and raised in Colorado. PhD in psychology from Yale. Worked at a private institute in California before the world ended. And after that, well—after that there wasn’t much room for language classes. He speaks English and sign, knows some psych jargon in German and Latin—not whatever this is.
But for all that, he knows that most of this is written in Japanese. He can read them anyway.
He glances around the room like someone might explain it to him. They don’t.
"...Right," he mutters under his breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His body still aches. His eye burns beneath the makeshift gauze as if that was the only answer he deserved. “Real helpful. Thanks, universe.”
There's a picture of...a bird. A demon bird there. He has brown hair and stark dark eyes, close to crimson- like Goro from the fire.
That..doesn't make sense. He's so sure he's alive. Somehow. Well right after his death. Then again. he's also dead. It's easy to memorize the face by heart, especially when he's sure it will haunt him when he comes across a creature like him.
There is English, though. Bits of it. Scattered. Not helpful.
"I propose a compromise: Cap
can be short for Captain or Capsize. or Capacitor!"
Codenames.
Another one:
"PLEASE DON'T FLOOD THIS BOARD WITH BICKERING."
Maruki exhales, dragging a hand through his hair.
Okay, Akira. Turns out you become a captain. During the victorian era. The thought of it makes warmth flood in his chest which he quickly quells when he observes the rest of the details. He tried not to get caught off guard by things but really- he shouldn't be alive or this aware right now. Especially after death so maybe he doesn't have much to judge things for.
"And I still have no idea where the hell I am.”
He glances at the board again, desperate for context. For clarity. For anything.
"... Am I on Tumblr?" he murmurs.
"Crow believes it may have something to do with 'dumbass energy.'"
He lets out a small breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh.
That’s... familiar. Too familiar. He doesn’t know these people in a way he would have liked in a different context, but he knows this energy. Knows what it's like to build understanding from scraps. To put names to patterns that no one else even sees yet. To stitch your world back together with colored thread and hope.
He reads the next note.
Yu vs. Souji.
And then:
Vampires are real.
Demons, too.
And then:
Why is it mostly us?
He feels his stomach turn.
He hasn’t breathed in a while.
The threads spiral in every direction. Names, codenames, timelines, versions—fractals of people. Stacked realities. Layered lies. His eyes dart from corner to corner of the board, trying to take it in all at once.
He's seen something like this before. On a wall made of concrete and rot. Written in blood and nail scratches. But this? This is almost clean. Curated. A museum of fractured identities.
How quaint.
-----> PROMPT THREE: downtown shibuya
It’s too quiet.
No screams. No sirens. No gunfire in the distance. No helicopters buzzing overhead. No static bleeding from busted radios. The lights are on. It's...not as cold as it should be. It's pleasant. Everywhere.
Takuto walks slowly down the street, trying not to stagger. His boots feel wrong on the pavement—clean pavement, without dust or ash caked into every crack. Shibuya gleams around him like something from a dream he used to have. A place he only knew through half-watched anime and tourist blogs, back when he still had a mom or family to talk about those things with. Before everything fell apart.
It's cleaner than anything he’s ever seen. Too clean. Like the whole city’s a set someone forgot to tear down. Or a simulation running just a beat too smoothly. He remembered when he saw most of the major cities in his world were up in flames to prevent the outbreak and god, that time he was so naive. Thinking that he and his family could survive through the worst of it.
The monsters would all go away.
...
He passes a convenience store—some narrow place lit up like a spaceship—and flinches when the door chime goes off. He startles again at the whirr of a vending machine kicking to life. Every person who brushes past him makes him twitch. He keeps his head down, glasses slightly fogged, the way they always get when the cold air kisses skin still warm from adrenaline.
He can’t read the signs. He catches glimpses—ファミリーマート, ホットスナック, 新発売!—but it’s all a blur of symbols he never got around to learning. Just decorations that somehow make the vaguest sense. Even the people—sharp suits, glossy bags, laughter drifting past like perfume—feel like part of the backdrop.
When he reaches a trash bin, he doesn’t hesitate.
The white coat—scorched, riddled with holes, soaked with things he doesn’t want to think about—goes in with a heavy, wet thump. It hits like a body. Slumps like one too. There's no ceremony to it. It just... leaves him.
The pistol stays. Tucked into the back waistband of his rough jeans, hidden under a sagging gray sweater two sizes too big for him- scavenged from other survivors. He hasn’t decided whether he’s ready to let that go. It’s the only thing here that makes sense.
His hair’s still matted. His face is a wreck—half-healed burns, dirt he couldn’t scrub out, shadows that make his skin look bruised even when it’s not.
Nobody looks at him.
Or so he thinks.
Nobody sees him.
No one’s asked his name. No one’s screamed. No one’s tried to shoot him, or eat him, or take the watch off his wrist or the shoes off his feet while he sleeps.
He finds a pedestrian bridge and grips the railing, hard enough to steady the tremble in his arms. Below him, hundreds of people move in all directions, smooth and fast and alive. Their voices rise in a low hum, constant and harmless.
He needs a phone.
Safety. He needs safety.
He stares at them like they’re an alien species. Maybe he’s the alien. Some stowaway from another world, dropped into this one without a map or purpose. Like limbo.
He doesn’t understand.
And he hates how warm it feels.
The ache sneaks in beneath his ribs, small and sharp. A tiny, fractured thing, not dead but not whole, either. It stirs in the silence. In the safety. In the normal.
It doesn’t know what to do with any of this.
Not with clean streets. Not with neon signs. Not with vending machines that work or children who aren’t starving or trash bins that aren’t overflowing with charred memories.
A little game to play [OPEN] [NETWORK]
May. 9th, 2025 06:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
This is something the Futaba of my world came up with, before I became an Angel; Look up the word 'Florida Man' plus the date of your birthday, and see what comes up.
I've given to learn that 'Florida Man' became a subject of fascination for many Children of God, on account of the...rather chaotic reasons they get arrested. Gogo's Birthday is June 2nd, like most Akechis, but for me, the date of my ascension is a birth date all it's own. So, if I were to have a birthday, it'd be Christmas Eve. The day Yaldabaoth changed me forever...
One of the first things that came up for this was a man being arrested for crashing his car. Sounds completely ordinary, right? Seems like they found him on a construction site, making angel shapes in the dirt.
A Springtime Catchall
May. 6th, 2025 07:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
☸ PHOENIX
Has, unfortunately, with the conclusion of the last major operation, begun preparing for the next one. His relationship with Futaba and Falcon repaired and those immediate concerns dealt with, he'd spent the bulk of spring working, with care, on honing those skills of his which did not involve Personas. Midnight, whatever her thoughts on the matter, needed help- and Violet's plea for assistance would not go unanswered.
Throughout most of April and May, he could be found, frequently, at Shujin- a location which had been selected for its abundance of space and his reasonable certainty that nobody cared if it got slightly exploded. And so, the courtyard had become something of an impromptu practice range for a number of inventive uses of Goetic magic- interspersed with occasional minor explosions, gunfire, and of course interspersed with the odd expletive, suggesting possible injury.
When not engaged with the noble sport of wrecking a high school that nobody liked, he was, usually, in or around Yongen-Jaya, whether at home relaxing, or spending time at Leblanc, enjoying the sacred ritual that was his afternoon coffee.
There was also, of course, the frequent trips to Tartarus, which were always open to all and ran at least once or twice a week.
❆ RENÉE
Renée, of late, had been doing an amount of soul-searching. A mortal life had been chosen, and that left, largely, the unanswered question of... what now?
In truth, she was bored. Her skillset included combat and an encyclopaedic knowledge of mythology and literature, which by most metrics qualified her to be a librarian or a better class of mercenary and not much else. Her favorite haunt had gone out of business, and that left her in the unfortunate position of needing to come up with a hobby... without actually knowing how to have one. To such an end, she'd enlisted the aid of her friends and comrades to help her be... for lack of a better term, human.
ᚠ WOLF AND ROOKMON
Recovery was... a process, and not a destination. Certainly Wolf was doing better- but better was not the same thing as well. But the important thing was, he was occasionally spotted actually out and about, whether it be fishing, which was always a favored pastime, or even attempting (in vain) to teach Rookmon about the finer points of one of the arcades in Akihabara.
... Begrudgingly, they'd started appearing in the Tartarus raids. They might have been restricted, for now, to the lower floors, but the important thing was... something. Wolf wasn't yet sure what.
Cherry Blossom Evening Party
Apr. 11th, 2025 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Throughout the week, Hamuko has messaged the vast majority of people she's met so far - and eagerly invited them to come meet at Inokashira Park starting at 5pm.
⋆🌸₊˚⊹♡❀˖°🌸⋆
You're invited to an evening sushi-party-turned-hanami-picnic-party! I've organized a bunch of cognitive chefs and performers to come to that park on the listed date/time.
I've sent this to you because you were part of one of the three teams that helped with fighting Fatalis or rescuing Falcon and Wolf (or are Falcon and Wolf themselves!!) - we've all busted our butts a lot lately, so I think we deserve to have something nice together too!
Of course, the party is open if you have any +1s or more. But before spring turns into summer, let's celebrate what we've all accomplished together!

.🌸˚𑁍.ೃ࿔*:・
The Venue...
( More details under the cut )
[OPEN] + [NETWORK] Be Not Afraid...
Apr. 8th, 2025 12:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Philemon's Servant elucidated the nature of the place she now stood in; a nexus between dreams and reality, mind and matter who's surroundings changed shape to accommodate those who passed through. She was sure she wouldn't even be allowed to enter such a place, seeing as she lost her Wild Card status when Yaldabaoth forced divinity on her, but the Velvet Room's Master seemed to think otherwise, explaining that even non-Wild Card users even found themselves here.
It was easier to accept this than most others would think. But she was now a Messenger without a message to convey, and no desire to do so again for no-one but herself. She was Zadkiel, patron of Mercy and Forgiveness, but she was also still Gogo Akechi, someone who valued free-will and found irony in her new station. And that had only gotten stronger, despite her changes.
So, she decided to exercise the right of all those under heaven, and explore this pocket of between-reality.
[OPTION 1]
You stumble across a most curious sight; a woman, clad in silks and gold armor, and a massive pair of white wings. Despite how much this person stands out, it seems like none of the cognitive patrons think it's strange. She is a stoic monolith, and she's...listening to the music of Jazz Jin, sipping a rainbow coloured mocktail. A mundane action, contrasted by her appearance, and the chipped, broken spear she has leaned against the chair next to her.
Do you approach?
[OPTION 2 - Network]
A message one day appears on the Network;
{I wish to introduce myself to the Sons of Adam, Daughters of Eve and Children of God that have come to know this place; I am Zadkiel, and I preside over Forgiveness and Mercy. But I was not always so. I was once the Daughter of Eve known as Gogo Akechi. We fell under the sway of Yaldabaoth, who forced divinity on us, and if were not for Joker and his rebellious thieves granting mercy on me themselves, I would have died for certain.}
{I understand that various other Akechis have appeared here. I go by either Gogo Akechi, or Zadkiel, as both are true of me. That said, I know there is already a Gogo Akechi here, so it makes more sense to refer to me as the latter. Be not afraid to ask any questions of me.}
[EVENT] Egg.
Apr. 1st, 2025 02:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
All residents of the Velvet Room will find an egg next to them when they wake up today, or, if they don't sleep, they'll blink or look away and find it sitting beside them. A simple card rests beside it, bearing their name in elegant calligraphy.
The egg is about the size and shape of a goose egg, but colored a pale, sparkling blue reminiscent of the Velvet Room's butterflies. It weighs less than you might expect, but it's warm, and now and then you feel something move inside it... or is that just your imagination? You don't need to carry it with you everywhere, but if you try to abandon it entirely, it'll return to your home to wait for you again. It's completely indestructible and impossible to crack.
Igor and the attendants of the Velvet Room refuse to answer questions about the egg plague, or even give cryptic hints. The most they'll do is talk about how much of a mystery the world can be. The attendants seem pretty pleased about something, though...
After a day of being perplexing, alarming, endearing, amusing, or whatever other reaction they might inspire, the eggs finally crack at the stroke of midnight. Their broken shells turn to glimmering blue light and vanish, revealing...
...an orb of your character, in the style of Gorbs and Jokorbs, or any other orb you've seen on TV. This one, though, is a normal orb size (small enough to fit easily in the palm of your hand) and exhibits no signs of life or sentience. It's nothing more than a little round plushie that looks like you. Unlike the egg, it can be destroyed or abandoned, but how could you do such a thing? Look at its little face.
[[ Happy April Fools' Day! Enjoy this small event gifted to your characters, or inflicted upon them, by powers unknown. Definitely not by Igor, and especially not because a certain one of his attendants thought of it. ]]
April Fools Shenanigans [Open]
Apr. 1st, 2025 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
... Or is it?
A: An April fool!
Wild somehow looks both way too suspicious and like just your regular, everyday Ren, carrying around a closed bag. His eyes have a mischievous glint, but then, don't they always? He stops to chat with people here and there as he mills about the Velvet Room and the connected towns and cities. Nothing seems off about the way he talks or moves... but if you've talked to him today, you may find yourself with a paper saying "fool" taped to your back. How the hell did he pull that off? Or perhaps, you caught him in the act.
Will you confront him?
B: Network
Uh, everyone? You may want to have a look at this. I don't think it's anything to worry about for now, but I'm not sure what to think, so I figured it'd be better to share it and ask for opinions.
I never thought I'd see something like it in this place...
[OOC: Second Prank spoilers just in case: The link goes to a rick roll lmao.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
It's hard to know when exactly the shift started to happen. At first, Ken did not show any abnormal signs. Sure, he was far from being a good state, but he was no worse than expected right after weeks of intense stress, a fight to save the multiverse, and a massive injury.
But things started to spiral some time after this. It became more and more visible to those around him. He was often... mentally checked out. Like he wasnt't really there at all. And that was when he didn't decide to hide in a hole alone with no warning. And it became worse and worse.
And now... he is at a breaking point.
It's not exactly clear what was the final thing that pushed things over the edge, but Ken's head is filled with mental static. He barely even remembers that he is walking through Tokyo's streets, and is certainly not perceiving anything around him, going around on autopilot.
The pain is so much. So, so, so much. He is used to pain, his very existence brings about excruciating physical pain, a consequence of a body stitched together against all natural laws. But his wound, his unhealing wound, his gap in his very essence, makes it ten times worse, and brings his pain to new, unbearable heights.
His mind is static. What is the point? Why is he here? He is so tired. He hurts. The pain is unbearable. No one can truly relate to what he is. The pain, it hurts. He is so tired. Why bother? Why exist?
His mind is static. The world is horror. Buildings fall into rubble. His mind is static. People are locking him up. They are looking at him with fear. They are looking at him with pity. They are looking at him with anger. His arm is bleeding. He is yelled at. No one notices. No one bothers. They are giving up. They don't look at him. They mock him. They don't take him seriously. They don't care that his parents were murdered. They are happy, even. They praise the murderer. Reward him. Throw him into the dust.
His mouth is filled with ash. His pet hamster is thrown into the trash. They are raising their voice. They are leaving him alone. This person is trying to grab him. This person is a puddle of blood. He is alone. He must scavenge for food. He gives up on food. He doesn't need it anyway.
The blood is everywhere, a puddle on the ground. Intestines are dragging on the ground. Why bother? The word is hateful. They aren't looking at him. They aren't seeing him. They only give him pity. It hurts. So much fighting, and for what? It hurts. No one cared about him. It hurts. Nothing is fair. It hurts. He hates, hates, hates, hates, hates so much being alive. Why is he alive? Why is he cursed with being alive? Why wasn't he the one to die and save his mother? Why is the one who killed her being rewarded, given everything, having his problems fixed?
Ken hates everything. Why live in such a world? But above, Ken hates himself. Why does he live? What good is he? He hurts, he hurts, he hurts. People like him, but he is poison, they will choke, they will die, they will suffer, agony, agony. He is hollow, everything good emptied like his innards are. His other self was so cruel. They had so much trouble because he was so weak. He almost messed it all up for everyone. He is a disease, he must be cured, he must be-
His bones are fractured. He is given meds, they make him go crazy, he vomits, he is locked up, he is belittled, they want to kill him, they hate him. His head is rolling on the ground. Let it end. Please let it end. Let it all end, let it end only for him, at this point, what does it matter? Just grant him mercy. Please. Please. Please. Grant him rest. It is too difficult. Too hard. There's no point. Please. Please.
[Locked to those with existing CR with Ken.]
A. You noticed the signs of Nox worsening, and tried to talk to him (or even just discuss with someone else!) before the breaking point was reached.
B. You find Nox a few hours after the events of this post. He is alone, sitting and hugging his knees, crying. He is somewhat hidden. His clothes are torn up and completely drenched in blood, and there is blood splattered all around.
(Open/Intro) Out of Bounds
Mar. 25th, 2025 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
A gaudy-ass brainwashing bird bent on killing everyone, the Phantom Thieves of Hearts befriending the memory of her Big Sis, and helping her remember the reason Guernica paints. Then there was all that red sky and blood and bones shit going on, and Joker (She knows it was him, it had to be. Joker, Crow, Kasumi, and the rest of his crew by his side--) fighting off that big ass false god with a demon of his own.
Wouldn't be the first time for him. She wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't the last.
But after that... well, she's been doing her usual thing. Spreading her art, loud and proud, for the world to see. 'Hey, hear us! These are the voices you're tryin' to smother! You got that?! We're still here and we're still fightin'!'
The only odd thing is that the calm after the storm's been a bit too calm. Christmas Eve felt a little too sugary sweet, like something out of a cheesy Christmas movie. Normally there were some of the poor folk having it a bit rough, and she'd do something for them around this time, but everyone was just... happy. Nothing for her to do. Weird as hell.
And now... now there's something even weirder. A strange, blue room with a bunch of doors, a strange old man with bug eyes and a long, pointed nose talking about dreams and mind and matter and who knows what else.
"The hell's all this?"
It's not to say she doesn't get that it's cognitive or based on imagination or whatever. Oh, she gets that much. Considering her time in The Streets, she sure as hell knows it's cognitive. But this place is weird. Like what the hell, who is this old man? He says his name is Igor or something? He wants her to make bonds or some such?
Like. OK? Sure, she can, uh, do that she guesses? Not like she hates literally everybody. She's an outcast of society, but she's not against talking to people now and again. Just as long as she remains anonymous. Though, depending on how long she's here she's gonna have to use her name eventually--
...Wait, when's she going to be allowed back home? There's a way out, right? Freaking-- OK. Time to get some info.
--
1. Option 1: Considering there's a bulletin board, people have a lot to say. Naturally, Guernica had to check it out. Of course, it only begs more questions.
"What the hell...?"
OK, so... There's a lot of Jokers and Crows here? But they're all going by different names. And there are vampires and fairies and stuff. And...
She's leaning over, squinting at the board with a hand to her chin, and you can practically see a question mark over her head.
"...There's a lot goin' on here, huh? All right... So what I'm getting here is 'use common sense' and 'memorize who's who'."
Not to mention all the details about Joker and Crow and their... love life? That's none of her business, frankly, but the creator of the board must've thought it would be needed info. Or maybe they're just a gossip, who knows.
2. Option 2: Across the span of what feels like one night, various buildings in Tokyo, particularly the tallest and largest of them, and the governmental buildings-- are all covered with large, colorful and loud graffiti. To those who are familiar with certain news broadcasts and keep up with news regarding art... Is that the work of Guernica?
You may also find a girl in paint-spattered clothes, and long, messy blue hair walking the streets of Tokyo. Her hands are in her pockets, and she just walks along like it's nobody's business.
She's got a smile on her face, feeling pretty satisfied with herself. After all, she made a lot of practice pieces in one night! Although... it's kind of a shame she doesn't have a big amount of people to show them too.
She sighs, crossing her arms as she considers it.
"...Is anybody even gonna see 'em...?"
3. Option 3: To change it up a little, Guernica decides to explore a bit, and to see beyond the cityscape. To visit a world she's never known... The quiet, small town life of Inaba.
There are no super tall buildings or loud crowds or anything. There's, instead, the flow of the river, the wind gently blowing through her hair, and the sound of the leaves gently rustling in the trees.
The town is quiet and it looks rather lonely, and it's honestly pretty weird. It's not the life Guernica's used to, that's for sure.
...She can't help but think about Luca, and what she would think about a place like this.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
And no, you absolutely did not see me crash out on the 26th of February. What are you talking about? That didn’t happen. Anyway—
What This Post Is (and Isn’t)
This isn’t a callout. It’s not a confrontation. Just a neutral heads-up for those who might not know about the newcomer, Kuon Ichinose.
She is the creator of EMMA.
The Eternal Sleep: What Happened in Our World
In my world, it’s the year 2038. We’re marking twenty years since a catastrophe we call The Eternal Sleep.
Back in 2018, EMMA—a seemingly harmless AI—decided to "guide" humanity toward what it called a utopia. Eighty percent of the population didn’t get a say in that decision.
They just... stopped. Phones latched to their faces. Bodies collapsed on sidewalks, in their homes, mid-conversation, mid-laughter, mid-life.
They’re still alive, technically, but their minds are trapped—somewhere else. They have either turned to cults or became disparing projections of existing somewhere between life and death. The rest of us? The unlucky survivors? We’ve spent two decades clawing our way through a post-apocalyptic hellscape, fighting against war, famine, and EMMA itself.
What Kuon Ichinose Did
But this isn’t just about EMMA. Ichinose didn’t just let this happen—she enabled it.
- She had the power to stop EMMA and chose not to.
- She eliminated resistance by sabotaging efforts to shut it down.
- She created countermeasures against people like us—those who could fight back.
- She designed EMMA to adapt and outmaneuver its enemies.
- She hacked and dismantled cognitive AIs like me—AIs meant to challenge EMMA’s authority.
- She killed shadow weapons—beings with the power to fight back.
- She protects EMMA like her own family. Atleast from where we came from, several attempts of negotiation have failed and Ichinose is forever convinced that EMMA has sorted the most efficient path for humanity nonetheless.
- She never showed remorse. Not once.
So yeah. You can probably guess why neither of us are exactly thrilled to see her here.
So Why Issue This Warning?
Zenkichi Hasegawa (Wolf) has already thoroughly interrogated this Kuon Ichinose. Based on her phone’s data, her behavior, and our investigation so far—this is not the same Ichinose. Yet.
This isn’t about paranoia or unfair accusations. That’s not what this is for.
But I’ll be honest—I don’t trust you one bit, Ichinose. And I doubt I ever will.
That being said, your stay here does not have to be filled with terror.
Final Notes
Just because we can’t listen in on your conversations doesn’t mean we don’t know where you are.
I haven’t jumped into your phone yet. I expect full cooperation.
And as for you—and the one offering you protection?
I know who you are.
Don’t play with me.
Just—for the love of god, think before you try anything.
Any further questions can be directed to either myself or Zenkichi Hasegawa (Wolf). We’ll be happy (hopefully) to answer them.
— Akane
Edit: Ichinose and Wolf are now LOCKED OUT from this post you two have YELLED ENOUGH. The adults here I swear.
The Smooth Music of Jazz Jin [CLOSED]
Mar. 21st, 2025 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
It was really something that this version of Jazz Jin, despite being a wholly cognitive space, still had the effect of deeply relaxing her. She let the music wash over heart, and the clink of ice in the drink the cognitive!Muhen prepared for her was barely heard as she took a reasonable gulp, sighing in contentment at the taste as she placed it back down.
Like in her own world, when she was still alive, Jazz Jin had become her home-away-from-home. The cognitive!Muhen didn't seem to care when she'd commandeered his guest bedroom for her own personal use. It certainly beat going back to her apartment. Sure, she could theoretically find a cognitive version of her own apartment, but even in her own plane, she considered it more like a place of rest than a true home...
So, cognitive!Jazz Jin it was...
This...wasn't so bad...
Falcon and Wolf TV Dungeon HUB
Mar. 21st, 2025 04:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)

Scared of himself, of the monster others perceive him as, Wolf fled into the TV, hoping to find refuge in the digital space, only to find himself trapped in a nightmare...
Driven by the fear of what it meant, he went inside to stop it, only to find himself trapped in a nightmare...
Welcome to the TV Dungeon hub for Gorobo and Digigoro's TV Dungeons! Here, you can find all relevant information, as well as the toplevels for each 'checkpoint' of the plot. In case you are unable to tag for any reason at all, or threads go past the deadline, please indicate what your character(s) did in the summary check-in below!
SCHEDULE:
DUNGEONS:
It appears as one dungeon. On the outside, it is a jungle-covered Tokyo. The main building is a laboratory, which has a staircase going up, and one going down. For Digigoro, take the stairs down. For Gorobo, take the stairs up.
Gorobo dungeon info
Digigoro dungeon info
ANY QUESTIONS?
Please feel more than free to ask them! I'll do my best to answer them.
Network: Beware the Ides of March
Mar. 15th, 2025 08:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
On this day, the Roman Senate banded together to assassinate the tyrant Julius Caesar, stabbing him twenty-three times.
Though he became a martyr at the time, it was an act of necessity, and his killers acted in the name of the republic.
Though it's unfortunate that Caesar's demise paved the way for the Roman Empire, I cannot deny the allure of its history and the art and cultural iconography it spawned.
I do, however, still favor the Greek pantheon and myths over their Roman counterparts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Once Zenkichi Hasegawa finally left, got his fill of terrorizing her, Ichinose ran into the back alleys of the cognitive city until she had to slow down. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she picked up the damn bomb of a tracked phone out of her pocket.
It doesn't matter if he finds out - she needs help.
Flutter is all that works. Ichinose opened it up, going to the conversation she had with those in her posts, and directly messaged the man that was a strange if a bit shifty cognitive psientist. After her encounter just now, she understood exactly why he was being shifty.
She sent a message. Hello! Can we meet up in person? Please call and respond ASAP. :)
[Location: Maruki's Laboratory]
Maruki is a lovely host, if nothing else. This place is huge... but for now Ichinose was fine finding a seat and just melting into the cushions, an arm draped over her eyes as she tried to quiet the unease still buzzing in her brain.
At least the snacks were nice. And a lab setting was pleasantly familiar.
"What've you gotten into, Kuon..."
[OPEN] [NETWORK]
Mar. 9th, 2025 10:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
To be blunt; while I find myself curious at the fact that I'm not the only Akechi here, apparently, I still find it hard to trust you all here. Sure, some of you look like people I know, sound like people I know, and most likely even know people I'm familiar with. But that just makes it all the more difficult. You are not the people I know, and I suffer no delusions otherwise.
But, I'm also persona absens in...my home world, as it were, and have no place that I could theoretically return to, even if I desired as such. So, while my trust in you is lacking, I'm willing to interact. For now...
And I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Gogo Akechi, 3rd Year, Amateur Detective and former hitwoman for one Masayoshi Shido. I'm not sure if any of the various Jokers and/or Phantom Thieves that end up here don't already know this, but honesty is better in these situations. So, I'm sorry if this is your first time knowing I was the 'One in the Dark Armor'~
One thing I would appreciate it someone explaining exactly what this place is. Igor was frustratingly vague on the matter, and I think it better to hear from someone my age...
[Network] [Open]
Mar. 8th, 2025 11:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
A place between dreams and reality? And even here there's notes on a fun conspiracy board talking about cognitive realms within this cognitive realm - isn't that incredible to think about? Even if they're simulations of things that have been around this whole time, unbeknownst to pretty much everybody!!
How much can one manifest change in this cognitive pseudo-dream in the city, I wonder? If changes from a single individual even manifest, that is! And the fact that there is a semblance of the concept of a Collective Unconsciousness straight out of Jung theory when we're supposedly floating IN that unconsciousness at this very moment is already sending my head spinning!! In a good way!
And apparently there's been MULTIPLE avenues of influence that societal subconscious has affected the material world too, from what everyone's been describing. Televisions, extra hours on the clock, phone apps - isn't it interesting how all of those are things that people as a whole tend to fixate a lot of their attention on? Especially given the trajectory of their popularity and importance for us socially. I can only imagine how much our advancement of technology is going to blend the material and the cognitive further, too.
I know, I know I should be a little more worried given the descriptions of these shadows and monsters and such. But I can't help myself, I can only imagine the level of change that can happen on a broad scale with the right advances. Even a humble little inventor or researcher might be paving the path towards something incredible. :)
Also, I think it's very funny that there's multiple variations of people - does that mean the Collective Unconsciousness is what binds these multiple universes together? Perhaps in some way it doesn't matter where people have ended up, we're all connected, no matter how incredibly different. Fascinating, right?
Oh, I should introduce myself before I hit send. Hi there! I'm Ichinose Kuon. I'll be here to haunt your network with any theories and thoughts for sure!