TDM 05

[goldmods]

【 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

A cool breeze lofts across the room. Gentle, soothing. Cotton sheets and silken covers slip with the tired stretch of limbs. New arrivals dozing in the comfort of their king-sized beds wake to the balmy warmth of a hazy sun and the rhythmic lap of waves on the shore. Clouds mist around the floor, granting ethereal ambiance. Gauzy curtains flutter, revealing a majestic stretch of sky in all directions. This temple is nestled at the top of a mountain, one where the sea somehow meets its edge.

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.

MARK OF THE GODS

None of the traditional suits have manifested on these Wildcards. Instead, all new arrivals will discover intricate patterns winding their arms and legs, each one different from the next. Thorns, vines, stars, or moons — the commonality of these marks is that they come in either glittering gold or shimmering silver.

► BENEVOLENT DIVINE: Those with marks of gold running along their skin have been identified as benevolent deities. The powers that be have sensed the kind spirit within. All benevolent Wildcards may experience the effects of any RED SUITS over the course of the next two weeks.

► MALEVOLENT DIVINE: Those with marks of silver running along their skin have been identified as malevolent deities. The powers that be have sensed the muck that lurks beneath the surface. All malevolent deities may experience the effects of any BLACK SUITS over the course of the next two weeks.

MADDENING HUNGER

Itchy throat, dry mouth. Headache. Hungry. It comes on slow, at first nothing of note. But, surely, it begins to deepen. Grapes don't feel filling. Water barely quenches thirst. All new arrivals will wake up in a state of hunger. They will find that despite the complimentary snacks left in their room by room service, nothing hits the spot.

No matter how much food they eat, these new arrivals, who have been dubbed as divines, won't find any satiation from food or wine. This gnawing hunger is exhausting; as it increases, their strength decreases. They cannot continue on like this for long.

All Wildcards, regardless of divine differentiation, will need to be worshipped for sustenance. Otherwise, they risk falling into a frenzied state.

There are many ways they can be worshipped. While having their bodies worshiped through sex is the most effective, they can find minor relief in acts of praise, affection, offerings, service, and so on. The longer a Wildcard goes without being worshiped, the more their god mark will leech their energy, and the faster they will lose their sanity. Loss of sanity can result in any kind of frenzy, from general mania to breaking from reality.

GILDED CAGE

AN ENDLESS FEAST

Doors to the grand banquet hall of Gilded Cage have been opened. A singular massive table stretches throughout the entirety of the restaurant, every available inch loaded with trays of food and goblets of wine. Waiters seamlessly dip in and out of the kitchens with platters over their shoulders, bringing delectable cuisine from all avenues of every earth around for guests to enjoy. Vibrant fruits, roasted meats, and decadent desserts funnel into the hall without end.

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.

ROYALS

► Royal cards are King, Queen, and Jack ranks. All ranks beneath them must comply with their demands, no matter how whimsical or stupid. They are waited on hand and foot, with low ranks throwing themselves forward for the honor of pleasing them. Royals do not need to obey the commands of anyone aside from Wildcards. While it is good manners for a lower royal card to defer to a higher royal card they will not be punished if they decline.

► Royal cards are encouraged to eat, drink, and be merry. Be selfish! Be greedy! Take everything you want! There is no end to the pampering and indulgence offered to royals. Long-standing guests line up to flatter them and give them gifts. Resort staff are desperate to make them laugh or smile. A royal card frowning strikes terror every servant. Resort staff will insist that they seek their own pleasures and not worry about the feelings of those lowly cards. All numbered cards exist to satisfy the royals; being concerned about their peasant feelings is unnecessary.

► Royals can command any numbered rank. If they find a numbered rank they particularly like they may monopolize them for their exclusive use. The word no does not exist. Whatever a royal wants, a royal gets. They can also issue punishments to numbered ranks that do not please them. There are guards prepared to discipline servants at their command. They may also dominate unruly servants with their own hands if that pleases them.

SERVANTS

► Servant cards are ranks A - 10. Hierarchy exists within the servants as well. While a rank 10 servant must flatter and please the royals, they may issue orders to any servant rank beneath them. This continues down the line — a rank 6 servant must obey and adore any rank above them but may command and bully any rank below them.

► The Ace rank shows its fickle nature. All Ace cards are bottom-barrel servants sitting at Rank 1 that anyone can bully. They are automatically ordered to clean up trash, scrub sticky floors, and dance provocatively for any rank that demands a show.

► Servants must obey anyone that outranks them. There are guards standing along the walls waiting to discipline any servant that defies the hierarchy. However, the guards are mostly for show — suits enforce real compliance. Any servant that disobeys an individual who outranks them is at risk of their suit flaring. If their suit does flare, submitting and obeying or an orgasm can abate suit effects.

WILDCARDS

► Wildcards are akin to deities. There is no greater honor than to serve or possess a Wildcard. Royals want to own them and servants want to please them. All Wildcards are showered with endless adoration. Fights break out for the chance to feed them grapes or rub their calves. Wildcards may do whatever they want without consequences, even toward royal ranks.

► Wildcards are encouraged to indulge in the finest of everything. Servants must tend to them and obey their commands. While royals do not need to obey them, there is great prestige in claiming a Wildcard’s affection. Wildcards are encouraged to be selfish and enjoy themselves to the fullest.

► Any royal or servant that satisfies a Wildcard can collect a Wildcard token. This is an electronic token that appears in their bank account once a Wildcard has climaxed during sex. Physically pleasing two Wildcards bring about great blessings. Players may submit two Wildcard tokens under their rewards thread to collect a small item voucher.

PHOENIX CASINO

ALEA IACTA EST

Phoenix Casino has been reborn in antiquity. Stone pillars line the aisles and embroidered linens cast a gauzy filter over every corner of the gambling center. The number of statues has increased, with every corner decorated with marble figures in provocative poses. The feast continues into even here; scantily clad servants and waiters carry around platters of succulent fruits and pitchers of wine.

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.

WILDCARD AUCTION

► All shiny new Wildcards have a unique number pinned to their robes. Early in the night these nubile virgin Wildcards will be paraded across the stage and asked to introduce themselves to the crowd. After, the bidding will commence. Don't miss this opportunity to claim a resort virgin and beloved divine!

► Bidding for a Wildcard can get intense! Numerous long-standing guests are already obsessed with these stunning new arrivals and are quick to bid high. Bidding wars can break out at any time. Some very eager long-standing guests are willing to get violent if it means they get to monopolize one of these Wildcards. Security is on stand-by for cases of Wildcard theft; some guests are so desperate for these Wildcards that they'll even try to kidnap them if they see the chance.

► The hierarchy is temporarily set aside for auction purchases. Any rank can dominate a Wildcard if they have the means to bid high enough and buy. In the case of Wildcard purchases, their god marks will force compliance to whoever buys them during the auction.

CASTING LOTS

► This special game of lots is designed for a high rank and a low rank to play together. In the case of guests of the same rank playing together, a coin flip will decide who plays the "low" rank for this game.

► The high rank guest will roll a six-sided die. The number rolled will reflect the game rule by which the low rank guest must try to satisfy the high rank guest. If the low rank guest manages to satisfy the high rank guest they will receive a large payout. If the high rank guest is not satisfied they may discipline the low-rank guest in any way they see fit.

ONE: Without using hands.

TWO: Using only mouth.

THREE: While blindfolded.

FOUR: Using only butt cheeks.

FIVE: Using only legs.

SIX: While remaining on knees.

► The high rank decides if and when they have been satisfied. Work hard, low rank!

HEADS OR TAILS

► What's a casino without a bit of risk? There's a special game of Heads or Tails happening at the game tables. All guests must bet their rank in order to play. Winners of the game will have the option to either swap ranks with the loser, or keep their rank as is and move on to another game. With a little bit of luck, even a Rank 2 can experience living the high life.

► All rank swaps are temporary. Winners that choose to swap ranks with the loser of their game will have 24 hours with their new rank before they revert back to normal. They may continue playing on with their "new" rank if they want to test their luck.

► Heads or Tails is played with a physical Golden Peacock coin. Players will take turns as the coin flipper, with their opponent guessing if the outcome will be heads or tails. The first guest to reach three correct guesses is the winner.

BEAK

ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS

A massive circular arena has been erected in the middle of Beak. Staggered seats rise up to the ceiling, where royals lounge in luxury viewing boxes. The gaping mouth of the arena is wide and desolate. An assortment of weapons, such as spears and shields, hang along stone walls. It waits for the taste of blood and stench of battle. The sound of the audience cheering and booing echoes throughout the Wellness Quarter.

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.

BATTLE ROYALE

► Numbered ranks have been conscripted into battle for the amusement of the Wildcards and royals. While high ranked servants may be able to wiggle their way out of a fight, low ranked servants will be thrown into the arena without mercy. Warriors that win their battles will be showered in accolades and payouts while losers will be mocked and pelted with rotten tomatoes. Warriors that try to forfeit their match will be stripped naked, strung up on a pole, and mocked for 24 hours.

► Battle rules are simple. Any means and methods of fighting are acceptable when in the arena. The arena’s overseer will decide if a battle will end when first blood is drawn or if it will continue until one side can no longer continue. There are rare instances of battle to the death, typically reserved for warriors who have deeply offended a Wildcard or royal.

► Royals and Wildcards are welcome to join in the royale if they wish. They will not be forced and they will be given any armor they want before stepping into the arena. Low rank warriors are given no armor — some may even be forced to fight nude.

SUBDUE THE BEAST

► Any numbered ranks that have displeased a Wildcard or royal will be thrown into the arena to fight barehanded against hungry tigers and lions. If there are no troublemakers on hand to throw into the arena for entertainment, low rank servants will be forcibly volunteered instead.

► Those alleged hungry tigers and lions? They are other servants dressed up in sexy animal costumes. While staff will take genuine volunteers for this role first, they will forcibly volunteer low rank servants into the role if needed. All costumes are revealing and offer little protection. There is an assortment of looks to choose from, not just tigers and lions, though whether or not a servant gets to pick their outfit depends on how charitable the arena master is feeling.

► Matches will end when one party can no longer continue or the audience is sufficiently amused. Royals and Wildcards are permitted to partake if they please, and there will be no consequences if they decide to withdraw.

RACE TRACK

► Royals and Wildcards are invited to participate in horse racing. Only, there are no horses to be found — all the “horses” are servants! Any chosen servant must carry their master over the finish line. While piggyback rides may make the most sense for a race like this, many of the high class prefer more elegant positions, so anything goes. Horses are required to wear a bridle at all times during the race.

Servants are also allowed to participate as jockeys as long as they observe the hierarchy. Servants may ride any servant of a lower rank. Aces are ordered to walk around with a poop shovel and bag, even if there won’t be any real horse poop lining the track (probably).

► Royals and Wildcards are also invited to participate in private horse racing. These races involve no track, taking place in the back of Beak in private rooms furnished with cushions and silks. Like with the public races, royals and Wildcards may select any servant that catches their eye. Unlike the public races, the goal here is to make their ‘horse’ orgasm as quickly as possible. Times will be saved on their Watches. The faster a master makes their horse come the more bragging rights they have.

Servants are once again allowed to participate as jockeys as long as they observe the hierarchy. The higher ranked servant must make the lower ranked servant orgasm as quickly as they can. While the ‘horse’ may offer mutual comfort they will receive no accolades for their skills.

TALON

SHOW OF STRENGTH

Talon is bustling with warriors training for the arena. Several strength building stations have been set up, including benches for royals to perch on while warriors bench press them. Additions have been made to Talon as well; multiple mud pits have been dug for warriors to participate in some mud wrestling between arena battles.

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.

MUSCLE CONTEST

► Who can appeal to the royals and Wildcards most? It’s a competition based on aesthetics! Strip down, oil up, and flex your muscles to earn a high score from the judges. Royals and Wildcards may issue a score between 1 to 10, with 10 being the highest.

Wildcards and royals are welcome to join in the competition. For some reason, their scores always end up being 10 no matter how skinny or noodly they may be! The flattery and praise for their stunning looks and bodies is endless. No need to work out, my lord, my lady. You’re stunning as is! Truly no body is more perfect!

► Servants are not only allowed, but encouraged, to bribe royals and Wildcards into giving them a high score. While chips and gifts can certainly be offered, isn’t the most compelling argument some hands on experience? Staff will hint to competing warriors that offering sexual favors to the judges may help improve their scores. What better way to prove their physique is the most superior than to put it to work?

► Royals and Wildcards may purchase warriors for their exclusive entertainment if they so desire. Staff are eager to impress these nobles and make a pretty penny in the process. While this isn’t an official auction, these sneaky staff aren’t above making sure the elite and their requested warrior are left alone in a locked room. You grease my palms, I’ll make sure that sexy warrior greases yours.

WRESTLING MATCHES

► Guests will find that a deep mud pit has been added to the front hub of Talon. Servants are stripped and oiled down before being thrown into the pit to wrestle for the entertainment of the nobles. While staff will take volunteers for wrestling matches, they will also grab whoever looks good, even if they’re just passing by! On-lookers place bets during the matches. The winner of the match will receive a small cut of the prize money.

► Wildcards and royals may enter as well. Servants are expected to throw their matches if they’re facing a noble… and if they don’t, they may be facing some unexpected consequences! All suits are sensitive to the hierarchy and will suddenly flare if a servant starts thrashing a noble.

► During a match-up of nobles, it is expected that the lower ranked noble will throw the match in favor of the higher ranked noble. While royal suits will not flare if this isn’t adhered to, discipline between royals isn’t unheard of!

► Some matches are held under “Special House Rules” — which means that the winner of the match gets to claim and fuck the loser. On-lookers will jeer and demand that the winner publicly fuck the loser where they can watch, but private rooms are available for the winner to claim their spoils of war without sharing.

WAYWARD ARROWS

► An archery range with targets has been established for warriors to show off their shooting skills. Like the arena, there are benches and boxes for the audience to admire this graceful art — or to throw tomatoes from when a warrior misses the mark! Both servants and nobles are welcome to participate as archers.

► Servants have been conscripted to act as moving targets across the range. They are told to heckle the archers while avoiding their arrows, and only advised that the arrows won’t pierce their bodies if they get hit. It’s all fun and games. We can’t have all of our servants dying en masse!

During this portion of the games, archers will be given an assortment of charmed arrows with chalk tips that elicit different effects:

RED ARROW: Chalk powder from red arrows will trigger an intense need for physical release by grinding, humping, or frotting.

BLUE ARROW: Chalk powder from blue arrows is pure aphrodisiac. Inhaling this powder will cause close spike to near-orgasm, one that the target will find that cannot be completed by their own hand.

GREEN ARROW: Chalk powder from green arrows will stir neediness. The hit target will suffer cravings to be sticky and hug, climb, and generally latch on to another person.

PURPLE ARROW: Chalk powder from purple arrows will cause a bad case of loose lips. This may manifest in a compulsion to loudly speak in pretentious purple prose, dirty talk, or say otherwise hilarious things for the amusement of the audience.

► Effects from the arrows will wear off within the hour. Multiple hits from differently colored arrows can create fun new effects so feel free to get creative!

INDULGENCE

DESIRES FROM THE VOID

The spirit of the festivities rouses something primal. With emotions heightened, the core of the Golden Peacock responds in kind. It drinks in the sweat of the warriors in the arena. Inhales the laughter of the royals using servants as furniture. Basks in the brilliant glow of fresh Wildcards. The portraits in the elevators are rowdier than usual and the chandeliers lining the hallways gleam with new vibrance. Energy is palpable.

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.

GALATEA

► Statues around the resort begin to stir. First it’s with a hazy blink, moving to the slow creak of their stiff mouths. Eventually they break off of their pedestals and out of their poses before clumsily making their way down the hallways, stone feet an emphasized thump with every step. They tremble, their cold stone bodies aching for warmth and human embrace.

► Statues around the resort have begun trying to kidnap guests for themselves. Once they’ve spotted a guest they want, they will stop at nothing to try and drag them back to their pedestal to spend forever locked in love’s embrace with them. They do not need food, drink, or rest.

► There are two ways to put a statue to rest. One is to engage the statue in battle and break off its head. Once the head is broken off, it will cease to have a spirit and crumble to dust. The second is to involve the statue in a physical act of intimacy — have a threesome with it! Or twosome, if someone is willing to watch. In the case of the second, statues will return to their pedestals satisfied upon completion.

► Statues that end up destroyed may drop a small lore hint. They will wheeze as their stone begins to disintegrate, their stone eyes dripping liquid gold tears. “I just wanted to feel alive again… I wanted to feel like you again… to be whole,” will slip past their marble lips before they crumble away.

NARCISSUS

► Gaze into the water. Admire your pretty face, the curve of your lips, the squint of your eyes... wait, are you winking at yourself?! Over the next few weeks, water-based reflections will begin acting of their own free will. They have the ability to move within the scope of the water and speak, their voices muddled but understandable.

► These reflections are extremely flirtatious and charming. They smile and bat their lashes, pretending to be innocent while drawing the original owner in closer. How about a smooch? How about more than a smooch? Their whispered promises are sweet. Salacious. Loving. Anything to get closer to you. Leaning in too close to the water is dangerous — these reflections will reach out and try to drag unsuspecting guests in. Whether this is out of malice or affection is unclear, but how can they possibly make love to you unless you join them in the water?

► Once caught, it is challenging to escape from their phantom limbs in the water alone. Several long-standing guests need to be saved from The Nest’s decorative fountain because they keep coming close to drowning after trying to kiss their reflections. Unfortunately, not every location with water is as prepared to save unsuspecting would-be lovers. No body of water is safe — not even a cup of it!

► Reflections will become increasingly indignant if they're ignored. Their sweet words will take a sharp turn into insults similar to, "I'm the better looking one between us anyway!" They may also let slip some personal secrets like, "This is why Johnny will never love you back! You're so cold, ignoring even yourself!"

Any mention of the fact that they'll end up drowning the character in question will earn a scoff and another small lore hint along the lines of, "Why are you being such a baby? Only the resort can really kill you anyhow. It's not like you'll die forever if I fuck you in here for a while!"

PANDORA’S BOX

► A spider's web threads through the resort. Invisible, but audible to those that are willing to listen. One of the Punishment Rooms on the maintenance levels is unlocked. Without the padlock on the door to keep them silent, silvery whispers drift up from the basement. A brush of thought, a tickle of an idea that won't quite go away — come down… come down and see… what is inside… don't you want to know?

► Those that heed the call and explore the maintenance levels will find the unlocked Punishment Room. The closer one comes to this door, the stronger these voices grow. They will continue calling, eagerly encouraging whoever stops in front of the door to step inside.

► The inside of this Punishment Room is plain. White walls, a single card table, and two plastic chairs. A single lightbulb offers a dusty glow. There is nothing particularly interesting upon first glance. Slowly, the door behind will creak closed until it is closed, locking itself in the process. That small lightbulb will begin to dim until everything inside the room is plunged into darkness.

► This Punishment Room senses the worst memories and fears of one of the captives inside and forces them to experience them in real time. The manifestation of memories or fears inside this room are realistic, to the point that it's impossible to discern whether or not this takes place in reality or the mind. The Punishment Room will randomly select which prisoner to dig from if there is more than one, but all guests inside will experience the room's effects.

► The door cannot be unlocked from the inside. Someone must either open it from the outside or captives must wait until the punishment is over and the door unlocks itself. How long that takes is random, ranging from a few minutes to a few hours. That’s what you get for listening to disembodied voices!

OOC NOTES

INVITES | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS

▶ 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! ♥

NAVIGATION • LOG • NETWORK • OOC • MEME

Comments

QUESTIONS

[goldmods]

Please direct any questions related to this TDM here. Any questions about the general game should be asked over on our FAQ. Thank you!

TOP LEVEL DIRECTORY: NEW CHARACTERS

[goldmods]

If you have posted a top level with a new character, feel free to link your top level here! Characters originally premiering on previous TDMs that are not currently in game may also utilize this directory.

For ease, please write your character's name and canon in the subject line when posting your top level link. If you do not currently have an invite for this app round and are seeking one, please feel free to add INVITE WANTED to your header for visibility.

[belheir]

Some of your images under the talon - show of strength header are broken, just so you know!

[goldmods]

Thank you - these should be fixed now!

[startouch]

hewwo... ironically i have a character who has equivalent god marks au naturale in the form of silverish stars/constellations all over his body, should i operate under the assumption that he'll have the ~malevolent~ effects? or would i add another design on top of his existing pattern?

Midnight | Arknights | 6♠ | Returning Player

[unrequite]

[ Having come back from a previously petrified existence, Midnight returns as a lowly 6♠, as he always was. Naturally, as a returned existence, he's going to wander a bit, wondering exactly how long he's been away and what on Terra has happened in his absence. Feel free to encounter him in his usual haunts, such as Swan Lake and the Red Cardinal, having a drink or reading a book, both with a very bemused air about him. ]

i. racetrack

a. public
[ Well, considering his rank, it's pretty likely that Midnight will be on the saddle end of the equation. His own bridle, a very simple black bit of headgear with a leather bit between his teeth, prevents him from any sort of speech. Convenient! This relegates him body language only, which means his least attractive trait — his unfortunate habit of opening his mouth and saying things — won't be an issue.

He looks at his partner, fairly bemused, tugging them to the starting line. Well... When in Siracusa, right? ]

b. private
[ Same deal, except this time, Midnight's blinking, rather bewildered, unable to provide commentary as he's tugged along into a confection of silks and satins, towards a bed. While he's flattered to be chosen for this particular race, he's starting to get the notion that he might not be the one in control here, necessarily. To test that theory, he takes his rider by the wrist and tugs, pulling them to the nearest mattress. Will they cooperate when he pulls them on top of him, or will they take issue with his initiative? Either way, they're certainly in for a ride. ]

ii. muscle contest

Give me the score I deserve, my darling. I'll make it worth your while.

[ Midnight, hair tied and oiled up, is in his element: completely naked, showing off his body to a roomful of strangers, and allowed to flirt mercilessly to get what he wants. There doesn't seem to be any penalities for hopping up to the judge's table, taking up their hand, and giving their fingers a very oily kiss. As one does. As he does. Midnight winks, letting that hand slip from his grasp. ]

What do you think? Not bad, am I?

[ He really, truly isn't. Six foot one of pure muscle and the confidence to match. Whoever is on the receiving end of his attention needs to come up with a very good reason not to give him the score he deserves. (Or they could neg him. You know. For fun. He'll take it in stride.) ]

iii. wrestling match

[ Oh, Midnight looks much, much too pleased to be here, no matter what his match up is, no matter what expectations are on him to do his best (or to throw, as it were). He gives his opponent a grin, tilting his head from side to side, joints cracking as he stretches his neck. ]

May the best of us win, mm?

iv. narcissus

[ ... Look. Under normal circumstances, you truly only live once, and Midnight has always wanted to make out with the hottest man alive. So there's a quiet sploosh as yet another sucker gets pulled into one of the many lakes of the Vale, and if one makes the decision to save this surely hapless stranger, they will witness Midnight locking lips with a translucent version of himself. Because of course he would. Of course. ]

v. wildcard

[ A month ago, I thought this game's schedule was on Pacific time. When I went to turn in my activity, I found out, to my dismay, it was in Eastern.

I'm back with Midnight!!! He's just woken up from a statue slumber, so he remembers everything and is very disoriented as a result. I am down for any prompt here, and will also be happy to make custom starters for people who just want to say hi! Please feel free to plan with me here and now, or send me a DM if you'd like to plan there! ]

[goldmods]

Hello!

Whichever you would like. The marks standardly manifest over any current marks (godlike in origin or not, for other players out there with similar circumstances), but the powers that be could embrace his current marks if that’s your preference!

[startouch]

thank you mods, i appreciate the flexibility! 💕

von lycaon / zenless zone zero / new!

[thiren]

i. arrival

[ early to bed, early to rise.

a member of the victoria housekeeping agency is disciplined and well-manner in all things related to others and themselves. which is why whoever finds lycaon as their room companion will wake up and find, well, the other side of the bed cold (with a distinct hint that they might have been cuddling someone fluffy and warm) but tucked in neatly under the sheets, the pillows under their head fluffed. no waking up with stiff necks while around him.

lycaon has made himself decent despite the clothes offered to him and investigated the room, its offerings and its schemes. after a while, he's started to carefully peel an apple while arranging small fruits, cheese and snacks on a plate. should he regard that his room companion is awake, he'll turn to him, plate of snacks in hand as he offers it to them with a polite bow.

the shimmer of gold is almost unnoticeable under his fur, winding around his arms and body. ]

Good morning. Breakfast is served.

ii. talon

[ well, it wouldn't be him if he didn't dutifully acquiesced to the requests of his masters. and what better way to dutifully acquiesce by winning a wrestling match under his royal's name, right?

reminding a servant with a small smile, shaking his head: ] No more oil, please. Thank you.

[ lycaon wrinkles his nose at the mud around him, some of it splattering on his snow-white fur as he steps into the pit. there's that temptation to freeze everything around him, but that would be unfair for his opponent, so he refrains. instead, he turns back to the stands to the direction of his owner, giving him a reverent bow before turning back to his opponent, assuming a fighting stance.

one palm open upward in front of him, his other arm folded behind his back, he steadies his footing against the slippery mud. ]

En garde.

iii. trapped

[ and the ghost hands are at it again.

it might not be the supply closet but it's certainly lacking space just as much, the shower stall in the talon a little too small for someone of lycaon's built and another person. at the very least, he's freshly cleaned and showered, only wrapped in a towel around his waist, when he's unceremoniously shoved in. and only his quick reflexes, hands grabbing the opposite wall, keep him from stumbling into his new bath buddy.

thiren kabedon? thiren kabedon.

the downside is, well, the shower water practically spraying him down. but as usual, he maintains his polite and proper self despite the circumstances. ]

My apologies, it seems there are very wayward individuals in this place looking for amusement. [ to say the least: ] ... May I ask for a favor, if you don't mind?

iv. wildcard

[ the, uh, auction will be won by six because kemonomimis why not, but lycaon will be very helpful and glad to serve the needs of other people, shrugs. he's a beast thiren meaning he's an anthropomorphic wolf with more pronounced animalistic features so ... gestures at what you might want from him :) i'm happy to hash out anything in pms ]

von lycaon / zenless zone zero

[thiren]

idk what i'm doing but here we are

— closed to six

[thiren]

[ it's very unbecoming of a housekeeper to present himself to his master while he's untidy. and yet, it's also unbecoming of a housekeeper to not present himself at all to his master, especially to report on his current standing in games.

lycaon's fur, despite having avoided the arrows and left the arena unscathed, is still covered in chalk powder from handling the arrows, the material very much finicky to handle and clings to his fur like sprinklings of colored powdered sugar. he tries to brush them off, but all the chalk does is spread, proving itself to be an annoyance through and through. it doesn't help either that he's starting to feel slightly dizzy, a heat rising within him that he's not felt since ...

since—

he has to stop himself, closing his eyes and tilting his chin downward to acknowledge his current master, one hand resting against his chest. ]

Master Six, please allow me some time to clean myself before I accompany you back to your quarters. [ he swallows thickly, gritting his teeth as he pushes down that thick, cloying taste rising at the back of his throat. ] It would viewed as unseemly behavior if I were to allow myself to be seen in such a state while next to you.

Baptiste LaFontaine | OC | Current Player | 2♠

[molotovmoustache]

[All prompts are open to SFW or NSFW! Any gender identity welcome for NSFW. Current players also feel free to hit me up if you want to do anything with me for this event! I'll be happy to write an opener or tag-in.]

The Gilded Cage

[A biting cold comes with the activation of his suit. It is one of the damning truths Baptiste has been saddled with since his own arrival. The agitation this chill stirs in his blood is hidden behind a welcoming smile - to those that do not know him, anyway. Anyone who has spent time with the man may recognize the frustrated twitch to his brow as he dips forward to bow. One arm gestures beyond himself toward a delicately embroidered chaise. The other cradles a pot of massage oil, the saccharine scent a perfect reminder of the sugar rot façade being presented to their new arrivals.

Gods? Goddesses? Sure - but how long would it be before they found themselves in the basement with all of the other lowly 'servants' they'd been paraded before?

Blue eyes glance upward, daring to make eye contact with his new guest for the first time. There is a simmering intensity behind them as his lips part into a lopsided smile - one that tugs at the burned-flesh of his chin and quirks one side of his mustache.]

[If this person is actually a royal? The smile remains forced upon his lips as he speaks. This is a performance he can do - but also one he must wholly commit to. If he can secure release, the chill in his veins will subside. He must succeed. Even when his own pride gnashes like a wounded animal in the corner of his mind. He'd soothe it himself - prove that he would be a stubborn vessel for the darkened spade suit emblazoned upon his lower back.] Allow me to please you. I promise it'll be quite the show. [Sealed with a wink, of course.]

[If this person is, in fact, just another servant like himself? The smile falters. His head tilts before he scoffs and straightens his demeanor. He'd gotten himself all riled for nothing-] Hey. I'm trying to make nice here- [A pause mid-complaint. The aggravation leaks away from his tone leaving something else. Something a bit more devious. This is how Baptiste could still win.] Wait. Do you think you have time for a break? [Oh good fortune! Maybe he could assuage the demands of his flaring suit by pleasing another lowly peon. Malicious compliance is still compliance, after all!]

Beak

[Baptiste has been given some odd roles to play in his lifetime, but being plucked from the hall and thrust into a sexy lion outfit was not one he would've guessed. The part today? Hungry lion, which - admittedly - is a vast improvement to any of the other ass kissing servitude he's found himself pulled into with this new 'welcome party.' This sort of performance settles as one he's far more comfortable with.

So when the next poor 'victim' is thrown into the 'lion's den' - Baptiste is quick to make a show. An agile spring towards this newcomer, just enough to show off that he is, indeed, in it to 'win it' here. He keeps a distance of a few feet between them, his body slinking to begin to pace around this new person. An impish look plays at his features - his face framed by the brushy, brown fur of a collar attached to a crop vest. The vest itself is open, revealing still the glean of an oiled chest. Baptiste reaches a hand out to gesture at his 'prey' in this act.] Well, well! Just when I was fearing I'd starve - they throw me a bone. [Baptiste's voice is a soft purr as he takes another step. The cat ears at the top of his head are perky, attentive. He offers a side eye and pauses. A pop of his hip before he begins to shift to get into stance. A taunting promise of what would come next. While the tail that hangs from his tight shorts could not wag - the way he moves nearly gives it the illusion that it is in this moment.]

Wise | Zenless Zone Zero (ZZZ) | New Character/Current Player

[stratewise]

I. The Symposium

A. Arrival
[This is not the sofa in the staff room. Wise clearly remembers falling asleep on the couch with the sound of electronics whiring. Instead, he stretches against the softest and nicest silk sheets-

Silk sheets?

Wise startles awake, sitting up quickly as he quickly tries to take in his surroundings. This is definitely not the Video Archive room of Random Play. This is...was he kidnapped? As he frantically looks around, he realizes that he's not alone in this bed.]

Ah! [A yelp and a thud. Sorry to whoever is sharing this King suite with Wise. The small man had toppled out of the bed and taking some of the sheets with him. He frantically grabs the sheets to cover himself a little more with.] Who are you?!

B. Gilded Cage
[Wise rubs at his arm as he sits surrounded by so much opulence that he can't help but feel uncomfortable. Silver patterning adorns his body in the designs of circuitboards. Vert fitting for a man so interconnected with technology.

It's not just the opulence that bothers him, but he finds himself famished in a way he isn't familiar with. It's ravenous in a way that can't be sated and no amount of water or food seems to satisfy it.

He tries to ignore it and concentrate on others. He doesn't like the way that people are being treated like servants, but he knows that instead of fighting the system, he can work it to his advantage. So he gestures at the closest person.] Ah, wait.

[He smiles politely.] Won't you join me if you're free? There's so much food that there's no way I can finish eating. How about we eat together? [What are the staff gonna do? Deny him letting someone eat food with him? He sees the power he has at the moment. Will it last? He doubts it, so he'll use it as he can here.

II. The Games

A. Wildcard Auction
[Oh, he doesn't like this at all. This is not where he wants to be when he is all but paraded as a sweet virgin ripe for the taking. He swallows thickly as he is all but shoved forward.

If a Hollow could suddenly appear and swallow him whole, he'd love that.]

I'm, er...Wise? I own a video tape store with my sister... [Help...]

B. Westling Matches
[Wise isn't partaking. Oh no. He knows himself well enough that there's no way he would stand a chance against anyone. He was not built for this.

That being said...

You cannot blame someone to want to watch. Okay? Moment of weakness. Some excuse where deities should be watching. Yadda, yadda, yadda. If he gets caught staring too long though, he'll flush and quickly turn away. Don'tcallhimoutdon'tcallhimout.]

III. More Pleasures

A. Galatea
Oh, come on! [Things he wasn't expecting was statues coming to life and trying to grab and chase him for whatever reason. Pretty sure that wasn't warned in anyway at all, and he would have loved to know that sooner than now.

He's already somewhat breathless as he runs down the hallway. Maybe he should start working on his stamina... If he survives all this to see Belle again, he'll tell her she was soooo right.] What type of five star resort is this?!

IV. Wildcard

[Hello! I'm kind of still getting onto my feet with Wise, so please pardon any struggles as I nail his voice. I'm pretty much open to any/all of the prompts and I am fairly open to most/all kinks other than bathroom kinks. If you want a custom starter, feel free to PM me and I'm happy to work things out! You can also just wildcard anything and I'll respond!]

Alan Ross / The Last Binding (post-canon) / new player new character

[the_roman]

woke up this morning and all that love had gone (arrival)

Alan lets out a deep, contented sigh, nuzzling his face into the softness of the pillowcase. The smell of sea spray and florals tickles his nose: light, pleasant. Like a luxury hotel in Brighton.

Brighton? No, that can't be it. The quality of the linens means it must be Cheetham Hall.

Cheetham Hall's not by the sea.

His eyes crack open -- then he sits up with a jerk, curls flopping over his face, as he stares around at his surroundings. And then at his bedmate. Who is, assuredly, neither the absolutely nobody he went to bed with in his London flat last night, nor, by some insane but at least explicable magic, Jack Hawthorn.

"What in--" His eyes catch sight of the golden laurel leaves twining around his arms and his legs, and he slaps at them on instinct. They don't come off. "Madonna santa -- what in the bloody hell is going on?"

the world turned upside down (gilded cage)

"If you try and rub my feet, I swear to God I'll kick you."

Alan hates this. He hates it. He didn't know he could ever feel more rage about class division than he did on board the Lyric, when the less fortunate were actively kept out of sight of the more privileged, but by God, this has done it. Watching other guests get pressganged into servitude and forced to abase themselves for him -- for him! -- makes his blood boil. Maybe literally, come to think of it. His skin feels feverishly flushed. The fact that he's starving probably doesn't help his mood.

"I mean it," he tells the lower-ranked servant who's just approached him. "I'm not cut out for the master's life. Can't we just talk or something?"

(Wouldn't part of him love to be ordered to service a high-ranking card, though? Doesn't the thought of the Royals laying claim to the Wildcards make traitorous heat throb down his spine? Isn't it all like one of the Roman's fantasies -- but frustratingly backwards?)

beyond the next paycheck and the next little drink (auction)

As it turns out, Alan's fantasies are going to be given the opportunity to right themselves.

The whole thing feels so much like something he'd write in one of his pornographic pamphlets. It's even bloody Roman, or faux-Roman, at least. The robes wrapped around him falling in architectural pleats. The columns adorning the stage. The merchandise -- that's what they are, now, the Wildcards, gods for sale, indulgences to be bought -- made up to show their best features and sent out to be bid on like prized slaves.

(The thought of being forced into compliance by a lusty lordling makes him want to scream and stroke himself at the same time. He feels Jack's absence like an open gash.)

Alan has a 54 pinned to his robes by his hip. ("Shouldn't it be LIV?" he said to the auctioneer, acidly.) The linen drapes from one shoulder to the opposite hip in a parody of a chiton, and the hem brushing his knees is decorated in gold that matches the god marks twining his limbs. When the auctioneer prods him to introduce himself, he sighs.

"Alan Ross. I'm a writer. And this whole show can go bloody hang, as far as I'm concerned. Who do any of you think you are? You're no lesser than me, but you're sure as hell not better than me." He lifts his chin, a flush in his cheeks. "If you think you are, you're welcome to try and prove it."

[ooc: AdivaCalandia here! Info and permissions about Alan can be found in his journal, as well as his kinks which line up hilariously well here. Please note he's really gay, so smut is M/M only, but I am extremely here for M/F gen!

Will match prose or brackets. Want to go for something else from the TDM, like the Punishment Room? Hit me up and let's work something out! ]

Alan Ross / The Last Binding

[the_roman]

but you're looking good baby I believe that you're feeling fine

ii.

[unrequite]

[ Against someone so clearly in his element, even if the footing is less than ideal, has Midnight torn. On one hand, he's happy to throw this match — he doesn't stand a chance, even if they're both of relatively the same build — but on the other... It wouldn't do to simply lie back and let him steamroll, would it?

So after a smile, a brief, polite nod — one devoid of both nerves and fear, odd for someone clearly a journeyman fighter — Midnight drops low and grapples, grip slipping with oil as they lock. The only chance he has is using his lower center of gravity to put the larger Lupo off balance, but considering Midnight's usually the larger one in any given spar, he only knows how to do this in theory. Still, it's worth a shot, right? (Oh... that fur is nice, laden with oil as it is.) ]

January Stirling | The Mars House | new character (current player)

[polarbearstrong]

i. arrival

The sound of waves is really what wakes January up. He's a little more used to the sound of running water than he was even a couple of months ago, thanks to Songshu's wonderful, ridiculous indoor water features. But nothing there, not even the entire pool adjoining Gale's bedroom, comes close to simulating an ocean.

It's warm, too. He and Gale have been compromising the past few nights that he's actually spent in his spouse's bed so that neither of them are completely uncomfortable, but that has meant mostly that January has been a little cold and probably Gale has been a little too warm for their liking. January stretches luxuriantly, rolls over and--

Well. That definitely isn't his spouse in the bed next to him.

This isn't Songshu, either, this is....he's in some sort of simulation room, he has to be. Not that that made any sense, actually, because even if he had his glasses on (he checks, he doesn't), he wouldn't be able to feel any of it, he doesn't have the haptics or the implants. But...

Whenever his bedmate comes to, they'll find a tall, solidly built but youngish (despite the shock of off-white hair) man sitting on the edge of the bed, just...watching them. His golden markings - where they're visible - almost look skeletal in nature, lines that stretch down his arms and curl over his ribs, following bone.

"Hi. This may be really rude to say, but if you've kidnapped me, that's a really stupid thing to do, you know? Consul Gale is going to absolutely destroy you."

It's definitely at least a little bit a threat and January's size makes him not exactly unassuming, but the way he says it isn't actually completely unfriendly.

(Even as he says that, though, January feels panic begin to bubble up inside of him because something is wrong and he realises that it's....the gravity. The gravity is-- well, it's right for him. Which is so very, very wrong.)

ii. Endless Feast

".....This is ridiculous." January says to...no one. Yet.

They'd been told that there was a feast in their honour (and to make up for....giving them rooms to stay in that rivaled even the Tiangong?) and while January was a little hesitant about that, he's been very much encouraged by the staff to attend.

And he's hungry. Really, really hungry. Even when he wasn't getting as much to eat as he should have been while working at the factory, he hadn't ever felt like this. So...yes. Yes, alright, he doesn't fight too hard about going to a feast.

But this was...too much. Being led to his own private little tent and a whole bloody bed like he was someone important - yes alright he was the spouse of the Consul of Tharsis and that did make him sort of important but never mind that - is too much and it makes him want to disappear into the shadows.

Christ, it really had been too long since he was on the stage.

Either entirely on purpose or being ushered in by a staff member, someone is approaching his tent though. January sits up a little straighter on the bed and shoots an awkward smile at whoever happens to be joining them.

"Sit down, please." If a staff member happens to be arranging this companionship, they give January a look that is a mixture of concerned and a little withering and January just...gives them a blank sort of stare back until they go away.

Either way, whatever his new friend decides to do, January returns to...eating. He's got some chicken on a little table next to him and he cuts and eats another piece. And then another, in short succession.

Why is he still hungry? It's only after a few more bites and another minute or so that he realises he hasn't even introduced himself.

"Oh. Sorry, I'm just-- never mind. Hi, January Stirling." He reaches out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

iii. (not a) Wildcard Virgin

Well. This isn't an ideal situation.

January isn't sure how he's been roped into being auctioned off while also being so terribly important as they keep telling him he is. But some fairly official and sort of imposing people had very strongly suggested that he take part and given that he is still, actually, some sort of kidnapping victim, January...decides not to kick a hornet's nest.

Which is why he's on-stage with a number pinned to his chest, being told to 'tell the audience about himself'. There are probably a lot of things he could say, but mostly what he goes with is:

"Um, hello. My name is January Stirling and...I used to be the principal dancer for the--" is anyone here going to actually know what London even is? "for a ballet company."

That's interesting enough, isn't it?

iv. Talon Wildcard

The gladiatorial and competitive sports aren't at all January's idea of a good time and he steers well clear of them.

However (especially being 'divine' and all that) he is drawn to Talon all the same, with all its different training rooms, and he does manage to wrangle - in the midst of all that chaos - an actually decent-sized dance studio.

In it, January begins turn and leap around the room. It's...slightly strange to dance without the cage on but given that this gravity is what the cage had been simulating all along, it's not too strange. A little harder to run through the drills than with the cage on, so he's sweating more than he would have before and taking more breaks.

But it's glorious, turning and leaping and not specifically feeling the resistance of the cage. January is glowing and he certainly doesn't notice if anyone happens to wander past the open door or even stop to watch.

[ooc: January is 33 and extremely pansexual! Not interested in sexual situations with characters under the age of 20. PM me for any other sort of scenario! I'm open to some sort of statue/water rescue scenario, I just ran out of starter steam.

I'm also more than happy to match format btw.]

lycas | oc (homebrew d&d) | current player, new character

[fleshcursed]

I — DIVINE AWAKENING (note: preferably one taker for this prompt)

( it’s the sound of waves that provide impetus enough to jar him from sleep; they’re incongruent with his dreams, confusing—and the place he last remembers falling asleep was decidedly nowhere near the ocean.

it’s not that he’s never woken up alongside a near-stranger before, but it’s become far less common for him and he especially hasn’t had the opportunity (or, really, the mind) for it of late. spending one’s only free time getting their ass kicked in martial training to become a marrowknight does that to a guy.

he stirs, sitting up; his normally-impassive face is marred with cautious confusion and a clenched jaw. he glances around, taking in the ornate room, the wide-open window, the immense bed, and the other person inhabiting it with him. nope. none of this is familiar. and this certainly isn’t l’occhio. )

Um, ( he gruffly clears his throat, a seam of faint social discomfort going across his face as he either rouses or addresses the other, ) Stupid question. But I don’t happen to know you, do I?

( he supposes weirder stuff has happened. is his head getting fucked with again? and this isn’t even addressing the odd markings he hasn’t even noticed upon his skin yet, hidden only in places by thin, gauzy robes—silvery and sharp, the designs form stylized clusters of eyes, slashes of sharp-toothed maws, shards of bone, angular clumps of fur, and lattices not unlike muscle fiber. )

II— AN ENDLESS FEAST

( lycas is in agony.

not physical agony, of course. there’s that gnawing, unending hunger, of course, but weirdly enough, he’s used to that (just from a very different source). to tell the truth, he’s never been treated this good. he’d been personally escorted to the banquet hall and sat at a place of honor (a throne, more like, he’d noted with discomfort), served anything he wanted, asked constantly if there was anything else they could provide for him… the werefolk is a simple man, characteristically not one prone to giving a shit about luxuries or any other kind of materialistic garbage. but the adoration and conscientiousness he’s being constantly shown is a social trap to him; he just can’t quite convince himself to just make break for it. occasionally acquiescing or refusing those requests and offers with polite restraint will only get him so far—he’s starting to get to a point of “fight or flight,” and as picking “fight” would probably make a mess of the better part of this lavish hall, he tries to err towards “flight” instead. )

You there.

( he figures he just has to lean into it, if he’s gonna use it as his first step out of this mess. he indicates someone in the crowd around the feast table, be they servant, royal, or, hell, he’ll even call out another of the wildcard “gods” if he has to. ) Come here.

( once obeyed, he leans forward ponderously on the intricately-carved chair, his demeanor imperious and his expression severe—up until the second they’re close enough that he feels he can speak frankly, voice lowered enough that even those lingering on the fringes couldn’t pick it up. )

Please tell me you’ll help get me get the hell outta here. ( his chartreuse eyes look desperate. ) Help me out, and I’ll pay you back. I’ll give you my word. ( and to him, that promise is as good as gold. )

III— ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS

( alright. enough of this horseshit.

lycas silences his nebulous halo of servants and sycophants with a positively venomous glare before striding forward through the yawning entryway into the arena. he walks past the racks of different weaponry adorning the walls, waving off an attendant or two who jog up and try to offer breastplates of iron or leather armor. no, when he stalks forward beneath the glaring lights and dozens upon dozens of eyes, the tall man wears nothing but the layered robes that he has felt almost forcibly festooned with; there are no weapons in his hands but those hands themselves.

of course, those hands have been all the weapon he’s needed for all the years of his life, and if he wanted an actual weapon, he wouldn’t need to take one offered by another. but that’s besides the point.

for lycas, fighting has never been about glory or pageantry. as a wild and somewhat outcast youth, it had been a tool employed to establish a pecking order among the other kids—or, rather, just to define the rule, “don’t fuck with me,” to any bright-eyed upstarts in his clan that might want to earn brownie points with those in power that had taken umbrage with him before he’d even had the wherewithal to understand why. after that, whether it was guarding caravans or delving into vaults, strength of arms had only ever been a means to an end: for survival, for keeping the hapless, fragile little eggheads around him safe (whether they liked it or not). with all that in mind, fighting for sport or pleasure had always seemed a little distasteful to him… but he’s spent the better part of the last few days aggrieved and chagrined to the extreme (this coming from a guy who hates attention, let alone veneration), so at this point he’s willing to relax those principles. )

I’ll warn you, ( he addresses his opponent in the center of the arena in a voice oddly low and soft for his tall, strapping form; there’s a hint of an elongated canine teeth as he curls his lip, ) I’m here to work some irritation out.

( and then he rolls his shoulders, and a curious ripple runs across his body—bars and plates of bone push through the skin beneath the robes, forming an organic set of armor; his fingers arch into sharp, serrated osseous claws. he lowers his head and emits a low growl, seemingly ready to let his opponent make the first move. )

IV— WILDCARD

( i’m open for any other prompts you might be interested in, including the wildcard auction and the other games in the casino, (unhappily) being forced into the role of judge in many of the other contests, attacking statues to help folks, etc.! feel free to PM me if you have any questions.

lycas is an oc from a homebrewed d&d campaign; there’s a small blurb about him and his setting on this journal. he’s around 30 years old, and i’m setting no strict preferences for age or gender, though smut will probably depend on how the thread goes. )

arrival (also SCREAMING, i'm just very sorry that edwin is from mid-AML)

[cradlingalight]

"Christ."

There's a bit of a groan from the person beside Alan....and then a long, tense silence as the noise registers as more than noise. As it registers as speech.

Edwin did not go to bed with anyone last night. Edwin may occasionally dally with people here, but he never goes to sleep with them. Which means, of course, that something ridiculous has once again happened. Edwin sits up, frowning down at tunic he's apparently acquired overnight.

...Something ridiculous has happened. He's not in his own suite and actually the intense opulence of the room takes him a moment to digest before he turns to actually take in his bedmate.

"Welcome to the Golden Peacock," he intones somewhat dryly. As he looks Alan over, there isn't even a hint of recognition in his eyes. "And before you ask or accuse, I have nothing to do with your being here."

january stirling | the mars house

[polarbearstrong]

just a Guy

SCREAMING BACK, OH MY GOD OF ALL THE PROMPTS

[the_roman]

In stark contrast to Edwin's dry, calm, unrecognizing gaze -- Alan's eyes, frankly, bug out a bit.

"Edwin?"

Later, Alan will think that the way he scrambles to sit upright and put space between them may have come off as insulting. In the moment, his mind is such a jumble of questions that his body seems to have taken matters into its own hands, and taken steps to make sure there's no hint of impropriety to be had. Edwin Courcey is not a man Alan has ever considered sharing a bed with, unless circumstances were truly strange.

Which. Well. Circumstances hardly seem normal.

"The what? The Peacock? Fuckin' hell, what have you lot gotten into this time?"

Peter Parker | MCU | CRAU - Duplicity

[canttrickmeanymore]

[ooc: Peter is 20, post-No Way Home, and coming over CRAU from Duplicity - he's seen some shit. please let me know if you do not want NSFW interactions with Peter, otherwise i assume they're okay]

Mark of the Gods

Peter feels like this is the fifth or sixth time he's started over. At least this time the accommodations are way nicer than the last few. These are literally the softest sheets he's ever experienced. They're amazing.

He gets sight of his arms, spotting the winding patterns of silver. He doesn't know what they mean or where they came from.

Ultimately, the effects of these will dig into Peter's soul. He's likely to be angry, or cruel, more dominant than submissive, and quite selfish - none of which are things he'd typically be.

In fact, he's growing annoyed at the fact that he's eaten more food than even he should be able to put away and he is still fucking hungry. It's pissing him off.

Gilded Cage

Peter has never experienced adoration and attention such as this before. Most of his life, he was viewed as a loser or less-than. Even by the whole of the universe, stripping him of all of his family and friends, making him alone. He's now the opposite of alone. Guests and staff everywhere are tripping over themselves to make him happy.

Unfortunately for them, he's decided that they aren't doing enough. They need to do more. He points to someone and asks them to bring him the grandest chocolate milkshake they can find. Once he has that, some of the intensity of the silver marks on his skin begins to ease.

But not enough. The massages are not enough. The food is not enough. There needs to be more. He motions to another guest nearby. "You, come entertain and please me."

Wildcard Auction

Being paraded on a stage like some prized stallion is also new for him (sort of - he was kind of auctioned off once before, but less glamourously). He hasn't had people looking at him in a way that said they wanted him. And, tonight, he is eating it up. Playing to the crowd to entice higher and higher bids.

Showing off his Spider-Man powers - flexibility, gymnastic-style flips and movements, climbing the walls, etc - to encourage more bidding. Possibly encouraging bidders to start physical altercations over being out-bid by each other.

He is enjoying the potential chaos and waiting for who the lucky winner will be.

Entertain Your Betters

(Battle Royale & Subdue the Beast)

Peter is lounging comfortably in his viewing box. Watching the battles below. Shouting his displeasure at a fight that isn't entertaining him enough, or cheering a solid hit.

"Oh come on! Don't let them get away with a hit like that!"

---

Later, during the beast fights, he notes which of the 'animals' are volunteers who chose to participate and which were 'voluntold' to join the ranks.

Is he conspiring with nearby high-rank guests to prolong the entertainment as long as possible? Maybe. Probably.

"If we look sour enough, the fight continues. They'll only stop once we've gleaned all of the enjoyment from it that we can."


(Race Track)

It's a good thing he's feeling more Dominant at the moment. He is entirely up for the challenge of racing to orgasm. He'll need himself a 'horse' for this race...

"You..." he points to a passing guest, beckoning them closer.

Show of Strength

(Wayward Arrows)

Peter's dexterity make him rather good at marksmanship. Add to that the amusement of shooting non-fatal arrows at lovely moving targets? He's game for this. When will he ever get to do something like this again.

It also doesn't hurt that the arrows come with some lovely affects. The accolades at his excellent skills don't hurt either.

Blue arrow: This one he aims at someone that he is interested in playing with himself. Once the affect kicks in, they'll need his assistance, right? And then he can tease them until he decides that he's ready for them to come.

Purple arrow: This one he fires off at someone just for the entertainment value of listening to them wax poetic in some form or another.

Desires from the Void

(Narcissus)

Peter is intrigued by the reflection he sees beneath him. Is - is it moving on its own? It can't be, right? Of course not. That's not how reflections work.

But he could swear he saw it move when he wasn't moving.

Then it speaks to him. Beckoning him in, suggesting he just get into the water. He's pretty sure it's a trap and continues to ignore the tempting reflection.

Until it says: No wonder everyone left you! You don't even pay attention to yourself! Hell, Tony left you more than once! Vlad too!

Peter whirls on the mocking reflection, glaring at it - himself. Breaths high in his chest as he tries to fight the pain and anxiety. He already feels like shit about his whole world falling apart, he doesn't need his own reflection spouting shit at him... But - how the hell does the hotel know about Vlad? Vlad isn't even from Peter's world. What the fuck?

Wildcard

[ooc1: if you have something else in mind, or want to play Casting Lots or Heads or Tails with Peter, or bribe him to give a good score in the Muscle Contest, or if someone wants to lose to him in a Wrestling Match - lemme know if you want the NSFW ending. Skipping the Pandora's Box for Peter's memories, but he can be in the room with someone else's punishment.]

[ooc2: if we have open threads from previous TDMs - tags coming for those today or tomorrow!]

Peter Parker | MCU

[canttrickmeanymore]

just your friendly-neighborhood Spider-Man

joshua rosfield | final fantasy xvi | new character, current player

[feathering]

a divine awakening, maddening hunger
( only one tag for this one, please. )

[ A cool breeze lofts across the room. Joshua realises in an instant that this is not where he should be, and he sits up. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, not for any effect the Golden Peacock may have on him, but due to his own constitution. A hand runs through his mop of hair, and he looks to his side where he sees he is joined by someone. All the more does he feel lightheaded as he brings himself up to his feet, stumbling backwards and almost tripping in the process. It leads him to pull on the sheets, dragging them with him as he stands.

This may wake up the other person, to which he should apologise. In fact, ]

You have my most sincere apologies. [ Eyes up. He's seeing things he shouldn't be. ] That was, I, ah- Here, please take this.

[ A step forward, and he hands over the blanket to his... bedmate. This means he's the one revealing himself now in his sheer white tunic, but it would seem that he hasn't quite realised that yet. On his chest glows what looks like a wound, yet it gives off a purple light, but pay it no mind. That's the least of one's worries right now. His arms are lined with gold lines that resemble veins, the effects of red suits very slowly taking over him. For now, he remains himself, polite, courteous, with his breeding dictating that he be proper and ensure that the other is alright before himself. ]


b wildcard auction
[ It is not uncommon for Joshua to be seen as a deity. Being the Dominant of the Phoenix and heir to the Rosarian throne, he was seen was someone benevolent already. Someone to be revered, protected at all costs, indulged, and obeyed. Certainly not owned!

He's rather appalled to be put up for auction like this, when this is the sort of treatment that he and his brother are fighting against. It was proposed to him so slyly that he wasn't able to say no, and could no longer say no when he truly knew what it was he had to do.

He would rather not harm anybody here and force his way out, so instead, he makes a bargain as he's set to speak in front of a crowd. Cheers and announcements of "It's the Phoenix!" are hushed immediately as Joshua takes the microphone, an item he's never once used in his life before. ]

I am Joshua Rosfield. It is not my intent to bring to attention that I am the Dominant of the Phoenix, but I believe it is why many of you have gathered here. [ "He said dominant!" and more cheers and hollers come after this. ] I implore those who are not eager to learn of this knowledge to place their bids. You will have my loyalty in return.

[ That is to say: GET HIM OUT OF HERE. ]


c after the battle
[ It didn't seem like there was much bloodshed during the battle royale, but Joshua finds himself at the exit of the area anyway, waiting to see if there is anybody who needs any sort of medical attention. The staff are told they are relieved of their duties upon being brought one-- loser or winner they may be. His expression is neutral, and yet, there is some gentleness to it. ]

You're hurt. Will you let me heal you?

[ While he normally would not need any permission, he ought to ask, as he can't imagine people here enjoy being pushed around. The least he can do is show some sense of humanity, as everyone else should. ]


d galatea
( only one tag for this one, please. )

[ Joshua's only just arrived and he's been thrust into all sorts of adventures already. He's got a mission to finish, and yet, here he is, brought to enjoy what freedom and life has to offer. Seeing as he doesn't have any sort of weapons, he's been using more of his magic than usual, but this is also at the cost of his own strength and energy.

Needless to say, Joshua's been held captive by one of the statues in the resort. One has their rocky arm around his neck as he's fighting against being dragged to its pedestal, using the minute strength he has to try and push the arm away. He can't quite use his magic at this time so he can't quite cover himself in flames and burn this statue to the ground. ]

Help— [ His voice is airy and strained, and he's unable to utter any more words beyond that, repeating it again and again until someone makes eye contact with him. He is d y i n g. Please help this poor boy. ]


e wildcard, notes
( I'm open to any other prompts! Feel free to send me a DM if you'd like to plot, or hit me with a starter of your own! As mentioned, for the first and last prompts, I'd prefer just one tag for it.

Seeing as he's new, he'll have red suit effects affecting him throughout the prompts. I'm happy to keep threads gen or make them smutty... this is a sex game, after all! That said, I don't have a kink list for him yet, but you can refer to Weiss' kinklist for nos. Joshua is 28 and is open to all genders... or no genders, really. No strict preference for age given this canon is sort of... doesn't care about age gaps, (sighs) but please feel free to send me a message if unsure. He's a virgin and is deeply inexperienced, so. . . have mercy. Or not. 🙏 )

joshua rosfield | final fantasy xvi

[feathering]

(insert fall out boy lyrics here)