ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴍᴏᴅs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
TDM 05
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our KING SUITES for all new arrivals. We will endeavor to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience.
As a token of our gratitude for your understanding, front reception has arranged for a GRAND FEAST to welcome our newest guests. The attendance of all guests is required. The house will enforce compliance.
Please note that rank-appropriate attire is mandatory. Guests found breaking social code may be disciplined. We hope you enjoy your stay! 】
ARRIVAL
DIVINE AWAKENING
All King suites have been set to the Heavenly setting for the comfort of these new Wildcards. To call this place a room feels like a misnomer; all of the senses scream that this is a real temple at the top of a crisp oceanside mountain. The only clue that this place isn't what it seems is the door in the distance. It stands dark against light, a stark rectangle distinctly out of place.
New arrivals aren't waking up alone. Reception would never expect their guests to wake up in a cold bed. All new guests will be waking up next to another Wildcard or a current guest snatched up from the hallways. Guests waking up in these heavenly King suites will wake dressed in sheer white tunics and togas that leave very little to the imagination.
GILDED CAGE
AN ENDLESS FEAST
Rugs and cushions have been laid out for low rank guests. All high rank guests have thrones and benches covered in crushed velvet and delicate linens. Wildcards have a seat of honor amongst it all, each fresh new divine lead to the grand dais for their own semi-private tent with daybed and eager servants.
Low ranks are carefully watched by security and wait staff. Some low rank guests may even be dragged in by resort staff to assist serving high rank guests and Wildcards. All high rank guests and Wildcards are revered and catered to during the feast. Low rank guests are expected to feed them, rub their feet, and comply with any whimsical demands. Any low rank guest that defies a higher ranked guest is at risk of being shackled, forced to scrub chamber pots, and other humiliating punishments.
PHOENIX CASINO
ALEA IACTA EST
The game tables are abuzz. Special games have kicked off in honor of the new godlings that are waiting to check in. Even here, those of different ranks are distinct from one another. The lowest ranks wear small slips of clothing. Some are even collared to show they belong to a particular royal or Wildcard. Royals and Wildcards dress luxuriously in thick robes and golden jewelry.
Game managers clap and encourage guests of all ranks to join in on the fun. While there are numerous card games, slot machines, and raffles happening around the casino, staff are promoting three events in particular.
BEAK
ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS
Beneath the open arena is a smaller closed arena and the warrior’s bunk. Warriors will find cold showers, rustic wooden benches, and training weapons available for their use. Deep in the earth is a grimy prison where servants who refuse to battle are thrown to wait for their turn. There are also cages where the hungry “animals” wait to go out and entertain the masses.
A long track rings around the perimeter of the arena. Gone is the standard green fuzz and white lines, replaced with stone and dust to elicit the real feeling of running beneath the hot Grecian sun. Foot and chariot races take place throughout the day.
TALON
SHOW OF STRENGTH
Servants that appear too fragile to handle mud wrestling have been conscripted into the oil bearer role. Their job is to slather the warriors in oil from head to toe, and otherwise prepare them for their matches in either the arena or in the pit. This includes styling their hair, tending to their wounds, and wiping the sweat off of their bodies if so desired.
The locker rooms that connect Beak and Talon have been fully stocked with first aid kits and luxury bathing supplies. Warriors that have won their matches get first pick, leaving the dirty towels and shampoo that smells like ass for the losers to sift through. Those sneaky ghost hands are having a field day, snapping rat tails at unsuspecting bathers and locking naked warriors together in the supply closet. Guests lacking vigilance may find their bottoms unexpectedly pinched.
INDULGENCE
DESIRES FROM THE VOID
Things begin to move around the resort. The forgotten and the old exhale a dusty breath. Like the hunger that the Wildcards woke up with upon arrival, as its heart begins to beat quicker, there is a tension in the air of those things hungering to feed. To join in, and indulge. To get what they want.
And they’re coming out.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: Alcohol; aphrodisiacs; battle; blood; bondage; compulsion; costumes; discipline; dominance; drowning; dubcon; fears; fighting; food; hierarchy; humiliation; indulgence; kidnapping; noncon; paranormal; power imbalance; roleplay; servitude; stalking; submission; supernatural; terror; violence; weapons
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
no subject
Bite? [Sylus muses, letting the word roll off his tongue with a hint of playfulness.] Well, puppy, you’ve already shown me you can bark.
no subject
But the memory of his first night with Jack is part of it, too. You've a very good bark, your lordship. The way he'd bitten his lordship's thumb when he pushed it into Alan's mouth. He and Jack have had plenty of times together since then, but that time in his study had been something else -- and now he's so far away from that. Far away with nothing but his memories, and a gnawing, insatiable hunger, and this pale faux-god who reminds him of the man he misses. ]
Put something in my mouth and you'll find out, won't you.
no subject
Sylus has lived with longing for a long, long time. He’s mastered the art of controlling it, of bending it to his will, rather than letting it control him. Rather, using others' to his advantage. Still, he did not plan on using this man's latent libido, and while animosity tends to fuel it, he saves that for… special occasions.
Yet there’s something about Ross’s unexpected offer that stirs a flicker of something in him. Not quite temptation, but close enough to make him consider it.
He reaches for a grape, plucking it from a dish set on a support table beside him, and crunches in between his teeth, thoughtfully. Of course, it leaves him unsatisfied, but he has been, for a long time.
He chuckles softly, shaking his head.] Biting on gold to see if it’s real is no longer an accepted practice, [Sylus says, his voice light with a teasing edge.] There are so many more productive ways to go about it.
no subject
Gold, are you. You arrogant, overfed prick.
[ Reaching out, leaning in, he flicks a finger against the silver marks on Sylus' arm. ]
I don't need to bite you to know you're about as real as a tin suit of armor.
no subject
But Sylus’s smirk only grows wider, more amused than ever. He chuckles, laughs, even. His head cants sideways, considering Ross with a gaze that’s both appraising and teasing.] Ah, I see now, [he murmurs, velvet low laced with a mocking curiosity.] I think this little game excites you more than you’d like to admit. …it gets your blood pumping, doesn’t it?
[Sylus’s gaze sharpens, the red in his eyes gleaming as he leans in slightly, closing some of the distance between them.] What is this about? Searching for something that makes you feel alive?
[Oh, he's been there.]
no subject
This man isn't Jack, he reminds himself. He doesn't even know the arsehole's name. He doesn't know if he can be trusted to stop when Alan means stop, or if he even wants to fuck Alan the way Alan wants to be fucked at all.
Although he feels like he could make a pretty good guess to that last one.
His hand curls around Sylus' forearm, almost without his own notice, and he leans in further as well. When he speaks, his voice is low. ]
What makes you think I would tell a lordly little shit like you something like that?
no subject
But even without his power, Sylus can sense it: anger, frustration, the barely contained rage that isn’t entirely directed at him, but at someone who isn’t here. And perhaps, in this moment, Sylus is the next best thing.
He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over Ross’s cheek as he speaks.] Sometimes the act of asking is a small mercy. Your actions already tell me all I need to know.
[A slight tilt of his head as his red eyes bore into Ross’, unflinching.] After all, I may be a ‘lordly little shit,’ but you haven’t truly made to run away yet.
no subject
You made your stance on my leaving abundantly clear.
[ Inhale: the wine on his breath. Exhale: heat. ]
You're not being merciful. You'll try to make me squirm no matter what I say.
no subject
Squirm? [Sylus murmurs, his voice smooth as silk.] I’m not trying to make you squirm.
[He leans in just a fraction closer, his knuckle still resting against Ross’s chin, holding him in place with nothing more than a whisper of contact. His right red eye gleams something darker, something predatory.] I’m succeeding.
no subject
Fuck you.
[ He doesn't pull back. In fact, his chin raises -- just a little, a fraction, the smallest hint of throat-baring. ]
no subject
Dark red notes every flicker of emotion that crosses his face—parted lips, chin taut, the glimpse of thin skin thrumming with a heartbeat underneath venom in his throat. He can almost hear how his breath catches in his throat, and it’s enough to make his own pulse quicken.
Slowly, deliberately, Sylus bows his head, closing the space between them until his nose brushes against the sensitive spot where Ross’s jaw meets his neck. He inhales deeply, drawing in the scent of Ross’s skin, a mix of heat and something that finally seems to sate whatever he has been trying to fill with food and drink and luxury treatment.]
Is that really what you want? [Sylus murmurs, his voice dark against Ross’s neck. Ross’s pulse beats wildly near Sylus’s lips, and he licks them anticipatingly. And yet Sylus doesn’t move, doesn’t pull back, letting the heat coil around them, smoldering fire that threatens to ignite at any moment. He wants to hear Ross say it, to hear the words spill from his lips, to break through the walls of defiance and let the truth come pouring out.] Yes, no… maybe so?
[A singsong as he nudges his jaw with his nose. He should be less of an asshole about it.]
no subject
He feels frozen in place, every bang of his heart against his sternum throbbing with anger and desire. If anyone asked him to describe this visually later, he'd be at a loss; his eyes are open, but all he's focused on is the taunts in his ears and the heat of this man's body. He's just skin. Nerves. A vessel for a heartbeat.
Then Sylus' nose brushes along his jaw, and Ross finds himself moving without thinking. He shoves Sylus in the chest, putting space between them -- then immediately closes it, climbing into Sylus' lap and wrapping a hand into Sylus' collar. ]
Is this what you want?
[ Now he's seeing again, tracking those red eyes and smirking lips. His own eyes seem like they're all pupil. Under the stupid faux-Roman finery he's wearing, his cock throbs. ]
You want a bastard that'll bite back? [ Ross' fingers tighten around Sylus' collar. ] If you want to make me squirm, make me. Make me.
no subject
And one he vastly admires.
He feels Ross’s grip tighten around his collar, feels the heat of his breath against his skin, but Sylus doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t really like hands near his head—too many memories, too many risks—but he won’t share his idiosyncracies so easily with someone he just knew. He'll let Ross have this small victory.
Low and almost pleading words navigate with anger and make Sylus arch an eyebrow. To bite back, to fight for control, to push and be pushed in return. Sylus can’t help but chuckle, the sound a deep rumble in his chest.]
Why wouldn't I? [His hands move, wide and deliberate, splaying over Ross’s thighs, fingers slipping beneath the edges of the robes, feeling the heat of skin against his palms. Sylus’ touch is firm, thumbs brushing against the sensitive flesh as he grips Ross’s thighs, holding him in place.] But… here you are, practically begging for me to take control.
[A sudden, fluid motion; the grip on his thighs tightens, and he tugs hard, pulling him even closer to press their bodies flush. The heat between them is almost unbearable, a smoldering fire that threatens to consume them both.] Well? Show me your teeth.
no subject
He sucks in a harsh breath, which goes out in a rush when his erection grinds against Sylus' belly. The robe bunches between them before falling back, exposing the head of his cock, and the feeling of air on his tip combines with the mockery to shock Ross into movement.
He rears back and slaps Sylus.
As soon as it happens, he freezes, looking startled. It's sort of the look of a dog that ripped apart a toy while roughhousing with his master: eyes wide, metaphorical ears back, unsure whether to wag his tail or tuck it between his legs. Has this gone too far? Is it still a game? Was it ever? Is it a fight? Was it always both? ]
no subject
He blinks, momentarily stunned by the sharp crack of Ross’s hand against his cheek. The sting blooms hot and unexpected, spreading through his skin like a wildfire.
But then he sees Ross’ expression—the wide eyes, the sudden stillness, the hesitation that follows the act. It’s almost endearing, the way he seems caught between his instinct to assert himself and the fear of having overstepped.
Sylus’s mind flickers back to words from not so long ago, an old technician’s reticent observation: “She may just be, uh, disgusted by you.” Ah, that sting, that ever-present reminder that still lingers somewhere deep in his chest. Even if this is someone new, someone who has no memories of him to forget, the echo of that rejection never quite fades. But this? This is different. Ross isn’t rejecting him—not really. He’s fighting, pushing back, and that’s something Sylus can work with.
He relaxes into the moment, letting the tension bleed away as he regards Ross with a mixture of amusement and something more complicated. He looks at his hand, the one that struck him, now hovering in the air as if unsure what to do next. Sylus slowly raises his own, misty black and red tendrils curling around Ross’ wrist, guiding his fingers open. He presses their palms together, intertwining their fingers, his grip firm but not oppressive.
His other hand doesn’t leave Ross’s thigh, the thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing, almost tender motion against the inside of Ross’s leg. Sylus can feel the tension in Ross’s body, the way fear and desire coil together in a confusing knot, and he can’t help but find it… intriguing.
Who disrespected you and threw status at you?]
Ah, there it is, [voice low and soft, almost a purr.] Good. That’s good.
[There’s no anger in his tone, no reprimand—only an acknowledgment, an understanding of the raw emotion that drove Ross to strike him, the anger at the border of disrespect. Sylus tilts his head. He’s seen the way Ross’s arousal remains stark and insistent, even through the storm of emotions, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, soft and inviting.]
Come on. You can take it.
no subject
He inhales sharply when his hand moves without his input, and his gaze flicks over to their intertwined fingers, back to Sylus' face. Mostly for the look of it, he tries to tug his hand away. When that doesn't work, he--
Relaxes. Not much. His body is still tense in Sylus' lap. But the curl of his fingers softens, both where they're gripping Sylus' hand and where they're fisted in his collar. ]
Take what?
[ His volume matches Sylus, though his tone is hoarser. He licks his lips. ]
You? Control?
[ There's a pink mark starting to bloom on Sylus' cheek, and the part of Ross' mind that's always cataloguing things for future writing thinks Like his eyes. ]
no subject
Ross’s words are hoarse, the lingering defiance in his tone mixing with something more vulnerable, more raw. Sylus feels the heat of the slap still radiating on his cheek, a dull throb that matches the gleam in his eyes. He can see Ross’s eyes tracking the mark showcasing the force of his anger.]
Whatever you want, [is his reply. A soft murmur that curls around them like smoke. His thumb continues its slow, steady rhythm against Ross’s thigh, a soothing counterpoint to the electric tension between them, and the red gaze on the flicker of pink between Ross's lips.]
no subject
When that thought crosses Ross' mind, it takes a real effort for him not to rock his hips. He came to terms -- more or less, twinges of Catholic guilt notwithstanding -- with the fact that his politics and his proclivities are at odds a long time ago. The way people with power trample carelessly on the people below them makes his blood boil. The way a person can use that power on him, with exacting care for precise effect, heats his blood in entirely different ways.
And the way this person, this red-eyed, casually condescending man, with the terrifying power to move Alan however he wants -- the way he holds back, the way he's simply keeping them both still and waiting, makes Alan want to throw himself against him like a moth in a gas flame.
All this, of course, is running through his body at the speed of his heartbeat; he feels the urge to squirm needily and quashes it in the space of a couple deep breaths. But that's still long enough that there's a noticeable pause before he manages a reply. ]
Simple as that? Take what you want and never mind the consequence?
[ He swallows, hard. ]
What if I don't want to take?
no subject
His red eyes soften, just an increment, though his thumb doesn’t stop its lazy rhythm against Ross’s thigh—back and forth, back and forth—an almost absent motion. It’s the kind meant to distract or be distracted by.
And he is, somewhat. He feels the pull of this place, it hums in the air around them, urging them toward something uncontrollable. He feels it in the way their thighs press together, the friction of skin against skin, the way Ross straddles him with hesitation and hunger all at once.]
I’m not innocent enough to think there won’t be consequences. [He studies Ross’s face, the way his breath hitches, the way he swallows hard as if trying to tamp down everything that’s bubbling up inside.] But all… taunts… aside, [Sylus adds, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth,] this is still your choice.
[His grip on Ross’s hand softens, his fingers loosening just enough to give him a way out if he wants it.] I happen to be in a very giving mood, [he says softly, his eyes gleaming with the same intensity as before, but there’s a thread of gentleness now, a willingness to let Ross lead.]
You can choose, [Sylus continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper, intimate and quiet in the stillness between them.] If you want to receive what I’m offering… if you want to take what I want to give.
help, this tag is amazing
A line from Shakespeare flits through his mind: Richard III saying something about like a Jacke thou keep'st the stroke between thy begging and my something, and then I am not in the giving vein today. The thought of cruel Richard and sly Buckingham at a time like this almost makes him laugh. Buckingham isn't so sly in that scene, is he?
No, he's begging. ]
I want to get taken.
[ That does feel a little like bleeding. Like cutting his thumb for a truth spell. Getting a split lip. He tightens his grip on Sylus' fingers. ]
I want to rip down all this stupid pageantry and go home, not get treated like a god. I want -- I can't have what I want. So I want to not think about it.
[ He inhales, searching Sylus' expression for a reaction. Cruel amusement would be the worst. No, that's wrong; it wouldn't be the worst, though it would be alarming. Disgust would be the worst. ]
ty ;; I'm sorry I'm so slow
Ross’s raw confession hits him harder than expected. For all the wealth, power, and luxury this place offers, Sylus knows the hollowness that remains when you’re denied what matters most.
Without the gleam of his red right eye, without the sharp edges of his Evol that could easily pry deeper into Ross’s soul, Sylus understands. He knows what it feels like to want something that this place, for all its opulence, cannot provide. To be surrounded by excess and yet starve for the one thing that’s just out of reach.
They're similar. No wonder they butt heads like this.
His thumb stills for the first time, a deliberate pause in the silence between them. Then, with a quiet, measured intent, Sylus’s hand slips further beneath the barely-there fabric of Ross’s robe, fingertips grazing over the smooth skin of his thigh. His touch is softer now, intimate in a way that isn't just physical but grounded in something deeper. He traces the fold where Ross’s thigh meets the rest of his body, his fingers lingering just at the edge, knowing but not rushing.
His gaze softens, studying Ross’s face for any sign of fear or doubt, but what he sees is the same raw want mirrored in his own. Sylus leans in slightly, his voice a quiet murmur, no longer taunting, but filled with a rare kind of sincerity.
Sylus tilts his head, his lips brushing lightly against Ross’s ear as he speaks, the heat of the moment finally spilling over into something more tender.]
I’ll give you what you want, [he whispers, his hand slipping higher, pressing into the warmth of his body.] Just let me take care of the rest.
worth waiting for!
His eyes flutter closed for a moment. ]
Don't kiss me, [ he warns -- inhales, exhales. ] But don't bother to be nice.