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TAKE AIM & GIVE ● APRIL 2026 EVENT
EVENT: TAKE AIM & GIVE
ᛗ
Won't You Wait For Me? — Week 1
( content warnings: Psychological horror, atmospheric dread, themes of isolation and abandonment, feelings of being watched, paranoia, supernatural influence and loss of control. )
New Vessels will awaken randomly across the city in the dead of night with their Nightmares and welcoming item— courtesy of Espera— In one piece of mind and body. You may even wake up next to the Veteran vessels you met within the Dreamscape. Gather yourself, extra clothes, a blanket or two, and enjoy the working heaters during this never ending winter. The strange animals won't hurt you if you don't hurt them. Nothing of value is worth noting, only that you are safe for now, if you choose the right place, and you should get some footing under you in the days to come. Luckily, you have others to help you get situated.
But Veterans will quickly begin to notice that for once in the many months they've been here, nothing is wrong. Nothing actually happens, even as the month's full moon pours pale blue into the sky and agitates our Lycans. Even as mildew becomes a sheet of frost in the morning. Even as the chill nips and makes its stay comfortable long past the amount of time winter should be had.
The nights pass without forcefully caused incident or . . . "Divine intervention", if you'd call it that. The Murmur hums low and distant, like a machine idling somewhere underground. No sudden dreams. No new Hosts clawing their way out of dark places. No anomalies worth reporting. Three is still gone. Two may blink a soft hello to you through the lights. Espera is quiet, unsettled. And One— One cannot be reached, and those who attempt it will find themselves facing a cold, cold wall.
It is . . . Quiet. Too quiet.
Established Tethers feel familiar again— warm, settled, almost comforting. The ache that usually comes with connection has dulled, replaced with a strange sense of ease. Some Vessels sleep better than they have in weeks. Others feel watched in the absence of Sleep's usual pressure, as though something has stepped back to get a better view of them all.
TOKEN EFFECTS
New Vessels will awaken randomly across the city in the dead of night with their Nightmares and welcoming item— courtesy of Espera— In one piece of mind and body. You may even wake up next to the Veteran vessels you met within the Dreamscape. Gather yourself, extra clothes, a blanket or two, and enjoy the working heaters during this never ending winter. The strange animals won't hurt you if you don't hurt them. Nothing of value is worth noting, only that you are safe for now, if you choose the right place, and you should get some footing under you in the days to come. Luckily, you have others to help you get situated.
But Veterans will quickly begin to notice that for once in the many months they've been here, nothing is wrong. Nothing actually happens, even as the month's full moon pours pale blue into the sky and agitates our Lycans. Even as mildew becomes a sheet of frost in the morning. Even as the chill nips and makes its stay comfortable long past the amount of time winter should be had.
The nights pass without forcefully caused incident or . . . "Divine intervention", if you'd call it that. The Murmur hums low and distant, like a machine idling somewhere underground. No sudden dreams. No new Hosts clawing their way out of dark places. No anomalies worth reporting. Three is still gone. Two may blink a soft hello to you through the lights. Espera is quiet, unsettled. And One— One cannot be reached, and those who attempt it will find themselves facing a cold, cold wall.
It is . . . Quiet. Too quiet.
Established Tethers feel familiar again— warm, settled, almost comforting. The ache that usually comes with connection has dulled, replaced with a strange sense of ease. Some Vessels sleep better than they have in weeks. Others feel watched in the absence of Sleep's usual pressure, as though something has stepped back to get a better view of them all.
TOKEN EFFECTS
• You have a persistent sense that something important is being withheld from you; could be affection, truth, or attention, and from just about anyone.OFFERING EFFECTS
• Heightened emotional awareness toward your tether(s), bordering on preoccupation.
• Moments of peace feel undeserved, as if they're borrowed time.
• Increased vulnerability to Sundowning symptoms at night: restlessness, fixation, difficulty grounding, etc.
• A temptation to cling to what is familiar rather than question why it feels wrong.
• Subtle physical discomfort when separated from your tether(s): pressure in the chest, static under the skin, etc.
• Protective instincts begin surfacing early, even without a clear threatin sight.
• A sense that your usefulness is being evaluated at all times.
• Dreams where your tether is distant, blurred, or just out of reach.
• Instinctive distrust of the quiet, even as others welcome it as the disguise of calm.
ᛗ
Take Aim On My For Once — Week 2
( content warnings: Psychological and emotional abuse, manipulation, depictions of toxic attachment and obsession, relationship deterioration and interpersonal conflict, themes of abandonment and self-isolation, worsening mental confusion, intrusive supernatural presence, feelings of being hunted or targeted, sustained emotional distress and destabilization. )
Well, that didn't last.
Tethers begin to hurt gradually and unmistakably. Conversations between your bonds may sour without warning. Comfort turns abrasive at the drop of a dime. Being close feels dangerously like standing in front of something loaded, with your friend's finger tightening on the trigger.
Sleep's presence presses closer through the Murmur at last, intimate and merciless. Her attention burns with precision, never warm and much less inviting— unless you know the invitations of a temptress. When She slips wordlessly between the empty spaces of your day to day, brushes upon your psych like a fish's tail flitting against your legs in the water, it is with intent. When She watches you, it is to study you.
One immediately, pathetically, really— takes the bait in his solitude. She purposely ignores him, giving you all minor scraps of attention, and he runs after Her anyway like a desperate pup. If this is how she loves— if love is meant to wound— then he will endure it. He withdraws from his black hole of self-punished isolation. Pushes away safety. Cuts himself further off from those who would soften the impact. Whatever remains of him turns toward Sleep alone, asking Her to aim true. Those who have felt the pain of real loneliness at least once in life will hear the echoing chamber of his serenade from time to time: How you love like weapons kill . . .
Unfortunately, One's song, feelings, emotions— warp the very reality you live and feel very day. Some Vessels feel the same pull, while others recoil. The strain finally reveals itself:
Established Tethers begin to misfire— Familiar bonds will grow volatile and emotions will echo too sharply. Comfort curdles into agitation, and being close to each other feels like pressing too near a wound that won't close. You're irritable, and your Tether is irritable right back. Established pairs will have negative effects on each other rather than positive during this week. The Murmur distorts around your connections, vibrating unevenly, as if something is interfering with the signal. Sundowning worsens where bonds are strongest, causing nighttime confusion to bloom faster, deeper, harder rather than slowing down. The closer you are to your Tethers, people who are supposed to be your ground, your pillars, your safe haven— the more it hurts.
The shot hasn't fired yet, but you can feel the crosshairs. As quickly as she can, Espera does what she does best, exhausted but resolute:
"You must . . . Find new Tethers. Just one will do. At least for now. Two will assist where I cannot."
Those who go outside and walk the city in search of a new bond will be aided by blinking lights— that will then lead you straight to someone else, in equal need.
TOKEN EFFECTS:
OFFERING EFFECTS:
Well, that didn't last.
Tethers begin to hurt gradually and unmistakably. Conversations between your bonds may sour without warning. Comfort turns abrasive at the drop of a dime. Being close feels dangerously like standing in front of something loaded, with your friend's finger tightening on the trigger.
Sleep's presence presses closer through the Murmur at last, intimate and merciless. Her attention burns with precision, never warm and much less inviting— unless you know the invitations of a temptress. When She slips wordlessly between the empty spaces of your day to day, brushes upon your psych like a fish's tail flitting against your legs in the water, it is with intent. When She watches you, it is to study you.
One immediately, pathetically, really— takes the bait in his solitude. She purposely ignores him, giving you all minor scraps of attention, and he runs after Her anyway like a desperate pup. If this is how she loves— if love is meant to wound— then he will endure it. He withdraws from his black hole of self-punished isolation. Pushes away safety. Cuts himself further off from those who would soften the impact. Whatever remains of him turns toward Sleep alone, asking Her to aim true. Those who have felt the pain of real loneliness at least once in life will hear the echoing chamber of his serenade from time to time: How you love like weapons kill . . .
Unfortunately, One's song, feelings, emotions— warp the very reality you live and feel very day. Some Vessels feel the same pull, while others recoil. The strain finally reveals itself:
Established Tethers begin to misfire— Familiar bonds will grow volatile and emotions will echo too sharply. Comfort curdles into agitation, and being close to each other feels like pressing too near a wound that won't close. You're irritable, and your Tether is irritable right back. Established pairs will have negative effects on each other rather than positive during this week. The Murmur distorts around your connections, vibrating unevenly, as if something is interfering with the signal. Sundowning worsens where bonds are strongest, causing nighttime confusion to bloom faster, deeper, harder rather than slowing down. The closer you are to your Tethers, people who are supposed to be your ground, your pillars, your safe haven— the more it hurts.
The shot hasn't fired yet, but you can feel the crosshairs. As quickly as she can, Espera does what she does best, exhausted but resolute:
Those who go outside and walk the city in search of a new bond will be aided by blinking lights— that will then lead you straight to someone else, in equal need.
TOKEN EFFECTS:
• Emotional pain from your tether(s) will register as proof of connection rather than the warning that it truly is.
• Increased tolerance for emotional harm if it means staying close.
• Intrusive thoughts that frame suffering as something you must endure to be worthy.
• Sundowning escalates faster when near your tether(s).
• Desire to isolate from others who question the health of your bond.
OFFERING EFFECTS:
• Compulsion to remain present even when it hurts. Retreat feels like failure on your part.
• Self-destructive protective behaviors: taking on emotional or physical harm meant for your tether.
• Heightened aggression or defensiveness toward perceived threats to the bond.
• Difficulty recognizing when care has turned into damage.
• Instinct to endure rather than escape, mirroring One's withdrawal.
ᛗ
Give Me All That You Can Give
( content warnings: Manipulative and coercive intimacy, themes of emotional dependency and possession, loss of autonomy and personal boundaries, obsessive attachment, supernatural influence. )
Rounding the month's third week, the pain between Tethers stops abruptly, cleanly, like a weighted thread snapped at the grip. Tethers no longer wound, but they do not loosen either. Instead, they tighten, drawing Vessels closer into something dense and consuming. Sleep's presence floods the Murmur, no longer distant, but intimate in a way that leaves no room for you to breathe in the slightest.
One reflects back to her like radar bouncing off wall. Their voices overlap in the dark of your dreams, devotion echoing devotion, and occassionally, should your heart be open, they duet. Love stops hurting because it no longer needs to. Instead, it takes. And takes, and takes.
Protection becomes instinct to some, while attention becomes fixation for others. Needs may be spoken aloud and without shame, and expected to be met. One and Sleep's cruelty mirrors closeness taken too far upon you, with their care sharpened into unhealthy possession.
No one is alone this week, but that does not mean you are safe.
TOKEN EFFECTS
Rounding the month's third week, the pain between Tethers stops abruptly, cleanly, like a weighted thread snapped at the grip. Tethers no longer wound, but they do not loosen either. Instead, they tighten, drawing Vessels closer into something dense and consuming. Sleep's presence floods the Murmur, no longer distant, but intimate in a way that leaves no room for you to breathe in the slightest.
One reflects back to her like radar bouncing off wall. Their voices overlap in the dark of your dreams, devotion echoing devotion, and occassionally, should your heart be open, they duet. Love stops hurting because it no longer needs to. Instead, it takes. And takes, and takes.
Protection becomes instinct to some, while attention becomes fixation for others. Needs may be spoken aloud and without shame, and expected to be met. One and Sleep's cruelty mirrors closeness taken too far upon you, with their care sharpened into unhealthy possession.
No one is alone this week, but that does not mean you are safe.
TOKEN EFFECTS
• Growing expectation that your needs should come first within the bond.OFFERING EFFECTS
• Difficulty tolerating distance, silence, or unmet demands.
• Emotional comfort derived from your tether's sacrifice.
• Increased confidence when obeyed or prioritized.
• Rationalization of control as intimacy: this is just how we care for each other.
• Obsessive vigilance: tracking moods, movements, threats, real or imagined.
• Territorial behavior toward others interacting with your tether.
• Willingness to sacrifice sleep, safety, or selfhood to remain useful.
• Anxiety when not needed; relief only when depended upon.
• Difficulty distinguishing your own desires from your tether's
.
ᛗ
I Won't Fight Fair
( content warnings: Snakes, intense stalking and predatory behavior, vivid hallucinations and psychological breakdown, intrusive body horror and parasitic infestation, loss of bodily autonomy, graphic implications of illness and bleeding, supernatural possession, severe mental distress and destabilization, themes of obsession, emotional exhaustion, and abandonment. )
Something is watching you by the tail end of the waxing crescent.
A Host moves through the edges of the city, seen in reflections, dreams, empty tunnels and storefronts. Corners, windows, and alleyways. While it never seems to attack you in its stalking stages, its presence alone is enough to unravel nerves already stretched thin by earlier devotion and demand. The sense of being observed does not come with footsteps or breath. It arrives in reflections that linger too long. In slithering silhouettes that do not move when you do. In scaley serpents pouring through the mouths of familiar faces before snapping back into place.
A manifestation has entered the network. The Murmur carries its presence poorly, as if whatever this Host has become does not belong fully to Sleep, nor to the world that remains. Yet, those who feel its attention describe the same progression: The certainty of being singled out, the maddening inability to prove it, and the slow understanding that distance does not help.
The Basilisk stalks its chosen Vessel across nights and waking hours alike. Appearing only at the edges of vision, behind glass, at the far end of alleys, or standing impossibly still beneath broken lights. When ignored, it draws closer. When acknowledged, it stills, and grows your paranoia. It seems to feed on your awareness.
The longer it watches, the weaker its target becomes. Rest drains poorly from those already hollowed by obsession and demand. Sundowning deepens catastrophically. After horridly vivid hallucinations of the Basilisk catching you in the nasty form of friends and loved ones, blood follows you through nosebleeds, blackened veins, and a cold setting into the bones no matter how close the heaters warm.
When it finally closes true distance on the sixth day of stalking, it does not tear or bite with violence— at least not first. It makes you spiral before it forcibly enters your body, through the mouth— Until you, too, spew over with slithering creatures burrowing into your skulls, and making their parasitic home. It will crumble into sand when the waxing gibbous is at its prime, leaving the city damp with dissatisfaction. The only way to escape it? Pass it on to another Vessel through any kind of physical harm. A cut, a punch— anything to make them bleed.
Only then will the Basilisk leave you be. If you survive the end of the week, all Basilisks will dissapate into dust.
One is exhausted. Hollowed out. Whatever he gave, whatever he surrendered, did not fill the space it left behind. Sleep is close, closer than ever . . . And still so unreachable. When the pressure finally lifts, it leaves him standing alone, emptied by devotion that was never returned in kind.
Tethers completely stabilize, but there's a bad taste in your mouth for the days to come.
TOKEN EFFECTS
OFFERING EFFECTS
GENERAL EFFECTS (ANY WEEK)
Something is watching you by the tail end of the waxing crescent.
A Host moves through the edges of the city, seen in reflections, dreams, empty tunnels and storefronts. Corners, windows, and alleyways. While it never seems to attack you in its stalking stages, its presence alone is enough to unravel nerves already stretched thin by earlier devotion and demand. The sense of being observed does not come with footsteps or breath. It arrives in reflections that linger too long. In slithering silhouettes that do not move when you do. In scaley serpents pouring through the mouths of familiar faces before snapping back into place.
A manifestation has entered the network. The Murmur carries its presence poorly, as if whatever this Host has become does not belong fully to Sleep, nor to the world that remains. Yet, those who feel its attention describe the same progression: The certainty of being singled out, the maddening inability to prove it, and the slow understanding that distance does not help.
The Basilisk stalks its chosen Vessel across nights and waking hours alike. Appearing only at the edges of vision, behind glass, at the far end of alleys, or standing impossibly still beneath broken lights. When ignored, it draws closer. When acknowledged, it stills, and grows your paranoia. It seems to feed on your awareness.
The longer it watches, the weaker its target becomes. Rest drains poorly from those already hollowed by obsession and demand. Sundowning deepens catastrophically. After horridly vivid hallucinations of the Basilisk catching you in the nasty form of friends and loved ones, blood follows you through nosebleeds, blackened veins, and a cold setting into the bones no matter how close the heaters warm.
When it finally closes true distance on the sixth day of stalking, it does not tear or bite with violence— at least not first. It makes you spiral before it forcibly enters your body, through the mouth— Until you, too, spew over with slithering creatures burrowing into your skulls, and making their parasitic home. It will crumble into sand when the waxing gibbous is at its prime, leaving the city damp with dissatisfaction. The only way to escape it? Pass it on to another Vessel through any kind of physical harm. A cut, a punch— anything to make them bleed.
Only then will the Basilisk leave you be. If you survive the end of the week, all Basilisks will dissapate into dust.
One is exhausted. Hollowed out. Whatever he gave, whatever he surrendered, did not fill the space it left behind. Sleep is close, closer than ever . . . And still so unreachable. When the pressure finally lifts, it leaves him standing alone, emptied by devotion that was never returned in kind.
Tethers completely stabilize, but there's a bad taste in your mouth for the days to come.
TOKEN EFFECTS
• Emotional whiplash as devotion peaks and begins to withdraw.
• Guilt over what you demanded once the pressure lifts.
• Fear of abandonment or loss of control as balance returns.
• Difficulty trusting affection that doesn't require sacrifice.
• Lingering paranoia from the Basilisk.
OFFERING EFFECTS
• Burnout: physical exhaustion, emotional numbness, or delayed resentment.
• Shame or confusion over how far you were willing to go.
• Hypervigilance persists even after the threat fades.
• Difficulty releasing control without feeling unsafe.
• Sense of having given everything and being left empty-handed.
GENERAL EFFECTS (ANY WEEK)
• Characters may have dreams involving weapons, open hands, or eyes in the dark.
• The Murmur feels louder when alone than when surrounded.
• Difficulty articulating where love and affection ends and harm begins— both may bleed into each other.
• Residual emotional fatigue even after the month concludes.
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