peacockstop | TDM 05

Entry tags:

!mod,
!tdm

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

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

Threaded | Flat

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

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.

[ 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! ]

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 ]

Edited 2024-08-16 03:30 (UTC)

[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.]

Edited 2024-08-16 04:30 (UTC)

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!]

Edited 2024-08-16 04:46 (UTC)

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! ]

Edited 2024-08-16 05:20 (UTC)

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.]

Edited 2024-08-16 18:04 (UTC)

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. )

Edited (typo...) 2024-08-16 08:40 (UTC)

[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!]

Edited 2024-08-17 05:48 (UTC)

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. 🙏 )

i - arrival

[As far as slumbers go, this has been the most comforting. Heavenly, even. Of course, he would've expected as much when he's put into a deep slumber, so waking up is a pleasant? Unpleasant? It's a surprise to be sure.

Being a light sleeper, every bit of sound or even a shift of weight would stir him awake. His visor activates and he looks around his surrounding. Gaudy. Luxurious. It burns his optic looking at this, but he doesn't expect to wake up in this kind of room. Strange gold tattoos on his limbs. And... why is he wearing a robe? If this is the Afterspark's idea of an afterlife, it's certainly a strange one as there wasn't any interpretation of the Afterspark that was like this. Not that he believes in any of the writings anyway. Those questions in his head is immediately put aside when he realizes there's something else wrong atop all the other wrongs he's noting.

Someone is sleeping next to him.

Danger? Hostile? Quite bold to be sleeping next to their captive, but he can handle danger. If he moves now, he'll risk waking up the warm body next to him, however. It's a good thing he came up with a solution... he materializes his holoavatar instead. Now, he'll just have to find something to make a makeshift bind out of.

Thus, whenever his fellow captive wakes up, they'll find themselves waking up with both arms and legs tied together. A ten foot tall robot is investigating the room, and a masked person is standing besides the bed. Although said "person" is idly standing, breathing in and out like a lifeless NPC.]

ii - Gilded Cage - Wildcards

[He's.... Uncomfortable. This reverence. Worship. Attention. Is this what it was liked being blindly worshipped as a Prime? He hates it.

An old hatred burns within him. Class division. Oh, how he hates such nonsensical appalling system. He knew about the resort's rank system during his first visit, but this is all just too egregious for him. Well, at least... They aren't planning to kill off the lower ranks. It's terrible, but it's not Pre-war Cybertron level of terible. Right?

He left his body offline in the room he woke up in while his avatar is out. Alas, the avatar has the same marks on its limbs along with the robe he came with (weird), and people are coming to him with offerings. Great... Okay, he is willing to accept their offerings and participate in some indulgences, especially when it's noted that he looks incredibly tensed and may need to relax... But being worshipped? No. That's bit much, but the staffers insists because he is a god. He NEEDS to be worshipped. Primus, was this what Optimus Prime had to put through with the colonizers?.... No, he's not going to be anything like a Prime.

Though there is a mask, he's visibly deeply uncomfortable with being lavished with praises, offerings, services, and worships. He could handle this to a degree... However, his patience is running thin. The starvation doesn't help matter either, but he's yet to reach his breaking point. That is until one of staffs had forced a lower rank to worship Soundwave and assures to him that they don't matter. In an instant, he grabs the staffer's collar, pulls them down until they can see his sharp glare behind the visor.]

Listen well. I am not better than them, and they are not lesser than me. These... titles, statuses, and ranks mean nothing to me. I have no need for worships. And neither do anyone else for that matter. [Finally, he lets go of the staffer's collar.] All are equal under the eye of Primus.

iii - Beak - Race track

[Soundwave skipped on the gladiator arena because it's just dredging up memories he doesn't want to think about. Horse racing sounds enjoyable at least, and he's been encouraged to sign up. Thankfully he's participating in his holoavatar, so no horses will be harmed by a giant mech sitting on them. Well, "horses" as Soundwave is about to learn.

Perhaps, he shouldn't have expected something normal, but here he is, looking around awfully confused. So many people around, but no horses in sight.]

Where are the horses? [And when someone points him to one of the "horses"... Trusts him that he has the hardest lineface behind the mask] ... I am awaiting for the punchline.

[It's gotta be a joke, right?]

Wildcard

[all prompts open to sfw or nsfw. And I'm open to the other prompts, soundwave being a judge in the contests or just watching from the sidelines. just to note, the auction will be won by monika. open to either his mech or human avatar for smut. if smut, 18+ is preferred, but 16+ i'm okay with on a case by case. feel free to hmu @

sharkbyte]

Edited 2024-08-17 01:31 (UTC)

arrival.

[ it feels wrong at first, to be this comfortable. the faint, cloistering warmth of the sheets, the breeze the smells just like sea salt. which is the one detail that gets him to slowly open his eyes. it's jarring at first, the light, like being under scrutiny, and he pushes himself up on his elbows at first, a headache beginning to form at the front of his skull, incessant. his mouth dry like dust, eyes squinting a little at the sun rising through gauzy curtains.

oh.

oh.

this is not right, none of this is right actually and while he'd love to move a little faster, his body is insistant upon laying back, getting a little more sleep. he's cold, actually, but just reaches out a hand to rub at his own shoulder, he feels the faint pattern of lines treading slowly down his upper arm, thick, then branching outwards like roots, steadily, an infrequent circulatory system-like design. as his eyes observe the marks in silver briefly, a soft 'tch' leaves his lips. ]

The hell's this -

[ muttering until he finally realizes he is, a glance at the watch pinned to his wrist again and a memory of being here once before. a shiver works its way down his spine as he gathers some of the sheets in one hand, over a suspiciously person-type-looking lump. he uncovers whoever it is a little rudely, to have a peek at whoever's been made his bedfellow now, though his expression is just tired and confused. ]

You up?

gilded cage.

[ this? this is nothing new. he's known gnawing, agonizing hunger before and all he does is tamp it down. cool cool cool cool he defintiely doesn't look like he's freaking out, but he sure is on the inside. inside feelings stay on the inside, while outside feelings are just. muted. if he happens to see someone who's been scrambling around way too long, he's just going to wave away a swath of whatever servants have been trying to cling to him and gesture. ]

Sit with me for a while and take a load off. Doctor's orders.

[ sliding down a plate, untouched completely. ]

At the very least someone should be eating here. And it gets some of these hovering busybodies away from me.

[ as much as he'd like to take part, he can at least give the food to someone else who's been busting their ass. this place sucks. there is, of course, a faint crease in his brow as the sound of someone's extremely hungry stomach just growls. displeased. so much food and not a single bit of satisfaction from it. it's not unlike home, so he actually doesn't seem as physically uncomfortable with it. he's got the bearings and hollows of a man who is used to hunger. ]

beak/talon locker rooms.

[ should he be "stooping so low" as to tend to the wounds gained by certain matches? no. will he because no one can tell him what the fuck to do? yes. so instead of seated somewhere watching the various matches and challenges and oiled up people throwing each other into pits and what have you, he's over here with some first aid and extremely good hands. a guy his size shouldn't be capable of being so delicate, but it's clear after watching him tend to a couple of no-name servants made to fight, that his touch is light, and his voice low and growl-like, but with a quiet sort of sincerity to it.

as he bandages a sprain carefully, fingers drawing over it as if to catch the strains and pains of it: "don't go swinging that around. they give you trouble, send them to me."

or maybe a bad cut from a nasty strike in combat: "wait a couple rounds before you go in if you're itching for a fight that badly, hm?"

and so on. he doesn't seem to mind being kept busy, even though the weird hovering servants don't know what to do but stand in a corner and play cards. if you happen to approach of your own will: ]

Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you're a real brave person who can walk it off. [ going flat in tone: ] Now that we've established that load of bullshit, sit - let me have a look.

[ whether you're wounded or just need to take some time off your feet and don't actually have injuries, he's willing to fake it for you to grab a breather. otherwise, have a bad bruise? twist your ankle? hit your head and need a nice warm lap to lay in (no)? come here. if you look injured, he just waves you over. come on, keep him busy so they don't go putting him back on a dais or something. ]

wildcard.

[ hi it's char i'm back with this clown, who's woken up from his rock nap. if you have any other desires/ideas/prompts, please feel free to drop them off here. want to end up fighting each other to let off a little steam? sure. want to get stuck in the showers together and get horny? by all means. he's not a resort virgin but i think you should still buy him at the wildcard auction if you want because he'd be Violent about it. i do not hate ANY of these prompts whatsoever, so i'm down to clown with all of them if there's another you'd prefer. feel free to pp me on plurk @ highthemme or discord me @ gutshot. (with a period)

also slides you my permissions with a kinklist attached if you did wanna get nasty. ]

Edited 2024-08-16 13:03 (UTC)

Divine Awakening

[he wakes to the scent of a sun-kissed breeze and the unbearably soft shuffle of cotton and silk—the first sign that something is disturbingly wrong. of course, he could never show that, even when every muscle threatens to clench and set him into motion. no, no—the situation is the most important thing now.

which... is better than he would have expected, actually. he's clad in some kind of sheer... something, a wrap of sheer fabric that feels perfectly fitted and yet like nothing at all. and, when gold eyes flicker open to focus on the room—he can't even call it that at first, except that he's in a bed to begin with—he comes to realise he's also not alone. how troublesome. that all makes it seem like it's not the run-of-the-mill "kidnap the information broker" jobs, but it's not enough to uncoil the twist of distrust that's kept him alive so long.

he can't just sit here thinking about it though, so instead he pushes himself upward, not yet noticing the gold flowering vines coiled around his skin even as he pushes messy silver hair out of his face to give his would-be bedmate a winning smile (as much of a winning smile that he can anyway, since he usually ends up looking at least a little sheepish).]

Well, hello there, friend! Sleep well?

An Endless Feast

[so, it's a game of sorts, and he's been slotted to be some kind of beloved deity? sounds like a racket to him.

even so, he can't just let the opportunity go to waste. not in the measure of pushing around those less fortunate, no, but in his specialty: gathering information. it's not hard to figure out how things work: the highest ranking people (and the new ones, apparently) are treated like royalty, and everyone else... well, he'd rather not think too hard on it. instead, he heads to the feast, noting the utter lack of sustenance brought on by the actual food—though he can tell his body appreciates it in some way, at least. what he's looking for is less the men and women fumbling all over themselves to see what he needs and more someone who seems a little more... grounded. aware. maybe even annoyed by their situation. it's someone like that who he'll wave over, legs stretched out across a nearby chair (or two) and retracting when they do approach.]

Have a seat, on me. [graciously gesturing to said seat, as he sits up and adjusts the sunglasses some poor sap found him earlier.] What a place this is, huh? Seems like a lot to get your bearings on.

Wildcard Auction

[okay, so there's definitely something... weird, a little demeaning even, about having a number pinned to your clothes and paraded around like some kind of blushing virgin. Aalto is happy to make the best of it though—hands perched behind his head, he puts his body on display, slim but toned, not quite wiry.

go on and introduce himself, they say. well then! his words are preceded by a confident grin, hands lowering down to a flourishing bow.]

Hello, ladies and gentlemen! The name's Aalto, the number one information broker in the New Federation. Now, that may not seem like much to you, but I can assure you—my promises are strong as iron and customer satisfaction is guaranteed. Need help finding someone or something? A well-hidden secret to be revealed or buried down deep?

[with a wave of his hand, a number of small, misty figures appear in the air—gems and coins, jewelry, a child reaching up for an adult, two people sharing a passionate kiss even—and dissipate one at a time.]

I know the risk you're taking bidding on someone you've only just met, but as they say—hesitation is the mother of disappointment!

Info/Wildcard

[hello!! Ceti here with another potential dumbass—Aalto is. he's a lot. chronic liar, charismatic brat, always looking for information, but somewhere in there he's got a heart of gold. he'll be found pretty much anywhere, safe or not, so if you'd like to plot something out or just hmu with a starter, feel free! I'm down for all sorts of threads, though he's liable to flee instead of fight, doubly so while he has no actual weapons.

some tl;dr because WuWa is a trip and a half: Aalto is a resonator, which means he has this funky visualiser thing on his body (his is on his neck) that lets him do some measure of supernatural things. his particular power is the ability to create, blend into, and otherwise just manipulate mist as a whole. it's just that, so on its own the mist is completely harmless, but he can use it for an easy escape from most any situation. he's been shown to use it to get out of bonds, and his "mist avatar" is pretty much what it sounds like: a mist version of himself, often in stupid poses, to distract enemies and help him get away. or to entertain. you know, whatever. he's got a little bio I need to add a bit more to and a kinklist if you're thinking anything along those lines.]

Edited (forgot to add actual links gj me) 2024-08-16 12:58 (UTC)

1. woke up in a new Bugatti (Arrival)

[He hates the sunlight.

He gets out of bed with heaviness—he’s not made for daylight, doesn’t work under daylight. The sun is an unwelcome intruder, and its warmth grates on his nerves, a far cry from the cool darkness of the N109 Zone. He had just returned from a trip, expecting to sink back into the shadows of his domain, only to be thrust into this radiant, unfamiliar place.

A lazy stride takes him through the room, his silver-marked skin shimmering faintly as he moves. Each step echoes with a lethargy born from irritation. His stomach gnaws at him, a dull, constant ache that makes his jaw clench. Hunger. A deep, consuming hunger that not even the array of fruit and wine set out by the bedside can seem to touch.

But there’s something else here—a presence, or rather, presences. His dark eyes scan the room, taking in the ethereal surroundings, the mist, the curtains that flutter in a gentle breeze, and the horizon where the sea meets the edge of a mountain. This place is designed to soothe, to comfort, but he feels none of that.

A figure stirs beside him, another guest, draped in sheer white. He barely acknowledges them. His thoughts are consumed by the gnawing hunger in his core, not just for food, but for something deeper, something more primal. His fingers trace the silver patterns winding down his arms as his gaze narrows on the distant, out-of-place door.]

This is not my domain, [he mutters, voice low and edged with disdain.] But it will have to do.

2. Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain (Indulgence)

[Lounging on the plush daybed, his expression is one of bored indifference as servants flit around him like nervous moths. The grand feast stretches out before him, a lavish display of opulence meant to impress, to awe, but Sylus remains unimpressed. He’s seen luxury in all its forms, tasted the finest of wines, indulged in the rarest of delicacies.

A servant timidly approaches, offering a goblet of wine with trembling hands, eyes wide with anticipation. Sylus accepts it, more out of habit than desire, taking a languid sip before setting it aside with a slight wrinkle of his nose.]

Is this the best you have? [he asks, voice smooth but laced with condescension. The servant pales, stammering an apology, but Sylus waves him off, eyes already wandering elsewhere.

Around him, others vie for his attention, their efforts to curry favor becoming increasingly desperate. But Sylus finds it all amusing—how they scramble to win a mere glance, a word from him. He doesn’t need to lift a finger; they come to him, offering themselves on silver platters, eager for even a scrap of his attention.

He chuckles softly to himself, the sound low and rich. “Pathetic,” he thinks, eyes half-lidded as he surveys the scene. If anyone is to capture his attention, it will be on his terms, not theirs. He’s the king in this twisted game, and they are merely pawns, dancing to his tune.]

3. I get expensive fabrics, I got expensive habits (Auction)

[The auction hall is certainly buzzing, eager eyes fixed on the stage where the newly minted Wildcards are paraded like prized cattle. Sylus stands among them, calm arrogance in a sea of nervous energy. The number pinned to his robe feels like a mockery, a crude attempt to quantify something immeasurable.

When it’s his turn, he steps forward not bothering with the scripted introductions. He doesn’t need to speak. The room falls silent, a collective breath held in anticipation.

The bidding begins, low at first, tentative. But then a voice calls out a pitiful sum, barely worth mentioning. Sylus’s eyes flick toward the source, his expression twisting into one of disgust.]

Are you broke? [Voice cutting through the air like a blade. The bidder shrinks back, suddenly aware of their folly. Sylus’s lip curls in disdain, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as if daring anyone else to make the same mistake.]

[The bids quickly escalate after that, but Sylus has already lost interest. These people, with their desperate need to possess him, are beneath him. He’s no mere object to be bought and sold. They don't know what they're getting themselves into.]

4. I can buy yo' ass the world with my paystub (Battle Royale)

[In the dim light of the preparation chamber, Sylus stands bare-chested, muscles taut. It smells of sweat and earth mingling with the metallic tang of blood from previous skirmishes. He rolls his shoulders, feeling the familiar tension coiling in his limbs, the hunger in his gut sharpening into a blade.

His opponent, a hulking figure clad in minimal armor, eyes him with a mix of fear and something else. They should know who he is, or at least they think they do. The arena is his hunting ground, this isn't his first time. He wraps his hands in worn leather straps, movements mechanical like he's done this hundreds of times. The silver markings on his skin glint in the low light like serpents ready to strike, matching the silver of his hair under the spotlights, his red right eye fixated on his adversary.]

Let’s see if you can survive, [he murmurs, the thrill of the fight already singing in his veins, beckoning his opponent closer with a motion of his fingers.]

5. critics that say he's "Money Cash Hoes" (Muscle Contest)

[Servants, nervous and sweating, approach Sylus with tentative smiles, hoping to earn a higher score in the contest. Sylus watches them with a raised eyebrow, already unimpressed. They stammer out a plea, offering a handful of chips and a promise of… more intimate favors in exchange for a better score.

Sylus leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. Bored out of his mind.] And why should I be doing that? Don't bother me with such trivialities.

6. No one knows what it means, but it's provocative (Galatea)

[The statue has been beautiful once, a slender, delicate figure carved in stone. But as it creaks to life, lumbering toward him with outstretched arms, Sylus feels nothing but cold disdain. This isn’t her. It could never be her.

It reaches for him, its stone fingers yearning for warmth, for connection, but Sylus is not in the mood for mercy. With a fluid, practiced motion, he raises his fists.]

Foolish, [he mutters as he sidesteps the statue’s grasp, its movements slow and clumsy. In one swift motion, he brings the his fists down, not severing the head from its body, but turning it into bits and pieces with a resounding crack. The stone crumbles, a sigh escaping the statue’s lips as it disintegrates into dust.

The statue’s voice whispers something as it fades away, its eyes weeping golden tears.

Sylus stands over the pile of dust, his expression unreadable.] You were never alive to begin with.

7. I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends (Narcissus)

[His reflection ripples back at him a perfect mirror of his arrogance and confidence. But as the water stills, the reflection begins to move on its own, winking and smiling with an almost convincing charm.]

Really? [Sylus scoffs, not bothering to hide his contempt.] You think you can outsmart me?

[The reflection’s smile falters, turning into a sneer. 'You’ll never resonate with her, it hisses, bitterness seeping into its voice. 'She’ll never truly remember you. What you cherished so much… it’s gone. You’re chasing a ghost.'

Sylus’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away.] You’re mistaken.

[The reflection spits in frustration, the water rippling violently before it stills again, leaving Sylus staring down at nothing but his reflection once more. He turns away, the reflection’s words lingering in the back of his mind.]

8. My 'give-a-fucks' are on vacation (Wildcard!!!)

[Warning that Sylus's red eye can look into your deepest wants and desires, and his own powers involve energy manipulation so he can actually, uh, pick someone up and manhandle them with black and red strands of energy I guess 👀 so pls be aware if you don't wish any of that to be approached or mention. (Also pls let me know what those desires/wants are if you do because what is knowing all canons, sob). I'm v ez and adaptable, so if none of the prompts above suit you, feel free to create your own, I'm happy to work it out!

(Also I'm very ez with cw's, don't worry about it or pls dm if you're really unsure.)]

Edited 2024-08-16 13:43 (UTC)

arrival.

[ he wakes and it is not to anything or anyone he recognizes. the disarming scent of the sea filling his lungs, the warmth of the sun. he unfurls slowly from his slumber, lifting arms to carefully stretch and brushing against unfamiliar sheets, feeling the way his fingertips fall across his own naked skin. the only thing wrapped around him besides the blankets, is a light-as-air, gauzy get up fastened with precious gold pins in the shape of shells.

reaching up with a tentative grogginess, he finds that his hair has even been tampered with, woven into a teased braid where semi-flexible ‘strands’ of blue almost seem too pinched for his comfort, pinned in by gold embellishments as well. he’s sat up beside whoever else is in the bed with him (though he’s yet to notice), carefully trying to extricate the blue from the mess of white its been braided into.

a soft growl leaves him, almost feral in nature as he tries to work a bit faster, even in his still hazy state. he has to figure out where he even is, but this? this hurts, actually, enough so that he basically just

yeets one of the pins straight across the room and into a mirror, with enough force that it shatters instantly. his breathing, sharp and whip-quick, slows as one of those blue ‘strands’ rests naturally behind him, a little kinked and kind of twitching before settling back again into a somewhat wrinkled state. he starts to work on the other one quickly.

good morning. ]

gilded cage.

[ he is so.

so thirsty, the equivalent of hunger for neuvillette. every cup of drink has been entirely useless to him, he realizes with a slowly mounting horror, as the hunger begins to really nip at his heels. first they had offered him wine, which he flat out rejected. next it was truly crystal clear water, which he’d tried to take a long draught of only to realize that it’s practically paper dry in his mouth still.

even food, which he’d been leery to try seemed like a futile endeavor, a bandaid to what he really actually needs. if you couldn't tell by the discards cups set aside in a too-neat line, there are... way too many to count, actually. not without giving pause.

there’s also a quickfire tapping that’s coming from... somewhere, and upon closer inspection, one might be able to see that a sleeve is draped rather conservatively over one arm and hand entirely. the other, uncoverd hand is just clutching tightly to the arm of the seat he’s been given. from time to time, from beneath that gauzy cover, one might catch an iridescent flicker of blue scales, and dark claws that can’t help but tap out a desperate, impatient rhythm.

he demands no worship, doesn’t even seek it out, so what is he left with but the slowly mounting frenzy that he’s unaware of, bleeding into his bones, slimming his pupils even more so, so that when he turns to look at anyone who even dares to come close, he seems almost inhuman.

if you happen to have a solution to all of this, then he may just be willing to indulge you, almost too fast, a desperate and poor judgement (rare for the iudex) visible in his eyes. he can feel how his thoughts, suffused in confusion as to how he ended up here, are caught up in a mire that makes the area between his thighs even more traitorous, damp and uncomfortable as he tries to disguise it with adjustments to the drape of his robes (unfortunate and unhelpful.)

aka this is your "i want fucc immediately" prompt, where you can whisk him away wherever you'd like. he'll be able to at least wave away his stalkers for the time being so he can be alone with whoever would like to get him out of here. ]

casting lots.

[ well here he is, after much poking and prodding and nudging, made to come and sit and play a game. there's a distinct discomfort that only vaguely rears its head in the brief moments the servants aren't looking at neuvillette. shifting in the slightly uncomfortable seat, he hums. ]

A game? Seems harmless... [ as he reads the rules and then just. softly. with the feeling of "oh gods why" ] ... I stand corrected.

[ very corrected. this is still a horny game. great. closing his eyes patiently while gritting his teeth behind his lips. calm down. calm. down. ] Once again this strange place exceeds bizarre expectations when it comes to such activities.

[ lips pressed into a thin line. but... it should help someone else, shouldn't it? he's one of these 'wildcards' and if that's the case, there's benefit he could be offering. who is he to turn down helping another where he's capable. even if it is, ah, uncomfortable. ]

narcissus.

[ hey, there's a guy seated beside this body of water - a decadent fountain with comfortable, plush seating. he's beautiful, lounging with his arms draped over the edge and a plethora of pillows and scarves, blankets, and even some incense that some of the strange servants stalking him around have left behind. on occasion, he peers into the water with a little concern if you get too close, he stretches that arm out to stop you from leaning in too far. ]

Careful... these reflections can be quite the phenomenon.

[ there's a little twitch of annoyance as he gazes downwards at his own reflection, a little flash of something dangerous in his eyes, like a warning or a threat to the water itself. also now that you're here, he most certainly might slide an arm around you to seat you down there amongst the pillowy nest he seems to have gathered for himself. ]

Best to stay back. Come. Have some tea with me instead...

[ and by back that means you are now stuck in his nest now. do you get to leave? probably not. especially not when there are already a few servants setting up tea. why would you turn this down? he's just a very polite man with... squints are those scales along his cheekbones? are his teeth a little sharper? he might be holding his hand over his mouth a little bit, shifting some of the gauzy draped clothing to try and hide some of the scales along his hands. ]

wildcard.

[ throw whatever you want at me and i will roll with it! in any case, hi, i have a kinklist right here that you can work off of. you may presume neuvillete is actually very New to the idea of having sex in this particular body.

i play him with xeno-traits when he is particularly Emotional. he's good at hiding it, but when interfered with such as with the various suit activations and particular wildcard rules for this tdm, he may exhibit (but attempt to hide) traits such as:

- clawed fingertips
- scales along extremities like hands/feet/arms/legs
- scales along his throat and around his eyes
- sharp teeth, split tongue, and his eyes far more reptilian/dragon

in terms of his junk, enjoy two very nicely-sized dragon dicks with a vent that tucks them nicely away (but also releases some slick liquid/can be stimulated). fits all my blather in here. okay byeeeeeee. ]

a. gilded cage

[Honestly, he was kind of looking forward to this feast. That sounded like a comparatively luxurious way to welcoming in the newcomers! He dressed nicely, prepared to throw his weight around a little bit to impress some of the fresh meat...

...Only to arrive and find he's bottom of the barrel.

After more than a little bit of protest and yelling, he's been stuffed into a maid outfit. He is, after all, a servant. He looks extremely unhappy with this predicament, but he still stands in the corner waiting for orders. And glaring at anyone who passes.]

Don't. Say. A word.

[Of course, just about anyone can order him around. Not so fun to be an Ace today, is it?]

b. lions and tigers and... oh my!

[No, he was not given a chance to compete for himself. He's nothing but a lowly Ace, after all. He'd be better suited as an animal!

And, of course, he's been dressed up as a crow. Which entails an intimidating bird mask and a black leotard covered in feathers that leaves little to the imagination.

Someone did see fit to give him a single gauntlet with some nasty looking claws, though. Whoever gets unlucky enough to get throw in with him is going to end up a little bit bloody.

Once released into the arena, he stalks whoever he's up against. This may be humiliating, but at least he'll get the chance to fight, something raw and wild. He exhales through his mask, almost growling.

Or maybe if you're a high rank, you wanted to keep this little birdie in a cage for yourself...]

c. race track (nsfw)

["Poop" duty was bad enough (which was mostly actually just cleaning up discarded clothing), but then the higher ranks decided to give him a "break" by letting him act as a horse instead. Not in the public races, of course.

No, he's here for display in one of the private rooms. His bridle is connected to a lead attached to the wall, easy for anyone interested to take off by anyone interested but not himself. He lounges on some red pillows, dressed in some pretty skimpy heart-themed "racing outfits". It doesn't cover much.

Most interesting is a red ribbon tied around his waist -- which any staff will explain marks an aggressive horse.

He tries to pull at his bridle.] Well? Are you just looking? Make up your mind. Don't humiliate me any more.

d. arrows.

[If Akechi is anything, it's nimble. He knows how to dash and dodge and it's the one moment of satisfaction he's gotten in this whole mess. He practically saunters across the archery range, clearly yet to be hit by anything.

When he sees someone stepping up to the line, he pauses and puts a hand on his hips. With his other one, he gestures for them to come on.]

You think you have what it takes to catch me? Don't be so arrogant.

[Hitting him will be no easy task, but... perhaps you can do it?]

e. punishment room

[Of course he took the chance to investigate and escape the madness of the feast. The maintenance levels don't care about ranks, and that's one thing he almost misses from his days in the basement.

And of course the punishment room fascinated him. He assumed it was some kind of interrogation room. And then he made the mistake of stepping into it.

Anyone who decides to investigate will find Akechi here, sitting in the chair, nearly doubled over as he clutches his head. It's unclear how long he's been here. But he does jerk upright when he hears someone enter, eyes wide and wild.]

Get-- out-- [His voice is mangled, his eyes puffy and red. He's not having a good time.]

f.wildcard

[ooc: Hit me up with any of the prompts! Contact me or surprise me]

01 ⛤ DIVINE AWAKENING
⛤ Form: "Natural" Shape (♀), a pale northeastern beauty ⛤ NSFW Possible

[There are those who would likely react in a panic to suddenly find themselves in a foreign bed in a foreign land, no matter how luxurious the sheets or breathtaking the view. Kiritsubo, however... is not that sort of woman. At least, not anyway or anyhow that another person would pick up on. She has the advantage of waking first, stretching leisurely as she eases from sleep to notice that she seems to be clad in sheer white robing, that this is not the mattress she last laid down on, and that the person next to her isn't the man she fucked last night.

So when her partner wakes... it will be to the face of a beautiful woman, long hair so white it's nearly icy blue forming a half-curtain around them, eyes blacker than black staring down over plush lips curled into a mischievous little smile. If they are wondering why they cannot easily move... it seems she is partly atop of them, a soft thigh thrown over theirs, full breasts pressed against their chest, and an elegant hand trailing wonderingly over arm, neck, temple. Colorful irezumi tattoos cover pale skin, now decorated with the addition of silver constellations mapped out over her legs.]

Mmmm, good morning~

[As if you knew each other very well. As if this wasn't the first time you were being acquainted.]

Did you have sweet dreams... ?

02 ⛤ ENDLESS FEAST IN A GILDED CAGE
⛤ Form: Shapeshifted (♀), a busty, caramel-skinned blonde ⛤ NSFW Possible, Possible Kinks/CWs: food play, foot play, massage, body worship, etc.

[When you happen to be a youkai that dabbles in manipulating or even just wandering in the human world, you end up worshiped by this group or that at least once or twice... and Kiritsubo has been alive for centuries. She's had her share... and though she cannot say she ever enjoyed it enough to stick around more than a few months until it got tiresome... Oh, it was still very fun to indulge in every now and again. This casino, this liminal space between worlds where she seems to have landed, seems intent on providing her with a glimpse of the absolute best of such service. And honestly... who is she to refuse?]

A. [As if rather used to such treatment, Kiritsubo smirks and plays into the role, golden eyes sparkling as she takes in a newfound person of interest, perhaps a servant or a sycophant. If they approach with any sort of food or drink she even oh so obligingly opens her mouth, tapping on the plush bottom of the pair of perfectly painted lips.

Ahhhhhhhh? She's waiting.]

B. [Ever ready with beneficence, having understood very quickly that the other "guests" of this place likely had their own motives for treating her this way... Kiritsubo is ready to provide an object of desire and recipient of worship. She crooks a finger to summon the attention of one of those who has decided to play the game... and helpfully extends a long leg marked by silver stars, flexing painted toes and letting a strappy sandal dangle half-off a shapely foot.]

You, there... How good are you with your hands... ?

03 ⛤ PHOENIX CASINO AUCTION
⛤ Form: Shapeshifted (♀), a dark-haired, lolita-esque "maiden" ⛤ NSFW Possible, Possible Kinks/CWs: "deflowering", owner/auction purchase, age play, etc.

[Kiritsubo did not attach much importance to changing forms. She did not feel scattered or shattered in any way, she wasn't working out any unexplored trauma via different faces, genders, ages, or builds... She mostly just shifted along with her moods or her needs. Mostly moods. But occasionally... she was inspired by her circumstances to adapt. To play. And this place... how topsy turvy it was intent on being. One day she was worshiped... and the next, she is expected to pose pretty on the auction block?

So she picked a form that seemed the most rousing for such a time. One that passed for virginal, because that was surely more inspiring, straddling the line of looking just a touch young but still possessing the hints of maturity that allowed one to be scandalized by the idea but not turned off by the reality... and she did also try to put on her best wide-eyed blink, making the most of large eyes and thick lashes and fluttering wings when she is trotted out with a number pinned to her chest.

Perhaps that is what led to her being bid on? Either way, her number is called...

And she turns to meet her buyer, playing perfectly at a nervousness she has never really felt her entire life.]

04 ⛤ BEAK & TALON: ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS
⛤ Form: Shapeshifted (♂), a mysterious, dark-haired man ⛤ NSFW Possible

[Kiritsubo has been enjoying the notoriety that came of being a "Wildcard"... But sometimes, you needed to lay just a bit low. She slips into something that feels more natural in the moment as the cries and jeers of the audience reach a crescendo over some contest or other, whether it is gladiatorial fights, "horse" races, or archery. She takes a seat, makes herself comfortable in the masses... and only once it doesn't seem sudden or peculiar, she leans over to someone seated beside her, voice coming out in a low rumble that is somehow clearly audible amidst the din while still feeling like an intimate conversation between the two.]

Will I be able to look forward to shows like this every day in this place... ?

05 ⛤ DESIRES FROM THE VOID: GALATEA
⛤ Form: Shapeshifted (♀), a sharp-eyed, athletic woman ⛤ NSFW Possible, Possible Kinks/CWs: violence or threesomes with statues?

[The marble touch of the statues is cool and inviting... but Kiritsubo is not familiar with them, and how dangerous or harmless they may or may not be. When one attempts to seduce her, to tempt her back to its dais by coax or by force... She takes the course of action that keeps her (and the other life in her) alive. Humming to herself, she continues down the hall with heels clicking loudly on the spotless flooring, cradling the stone head of a gorgeous woman in the crook of her elbow and idly stroking at its cheek.

When she glides past a semi-private alcove and finds not just a statue within but a statue and another "guest"... She smoothly retraces a few steps back, making a good show of letting her eyes wander over where hands are... and whether she has come across an attempted murder or a pacification via lovemaking... She smiles knowingly either way, crooning out,]

Have I interrupted something... ?

[And if so... Was she expected to go on her way, or join in and "help"... ?]

06 ⛤ WILDCARD

[Information/Permissions can be found here. Kiritsubo is an ancient tanuki with an insatiable sexual appetite, so open to other options beyond the prompts I have listed here. If you would like to do something in particular, contact me by PM or on Discord (#waxwinging)! (Everything is listed as NSFW possible because Kiritsubo is Like That, but feel free to respond even if you plan to keep the threads non-sexual, that's cool, too!]

Edited 2024-08-17 07:25 (UTC)

a. arrival

[Natsume isn't used to being treated to such luxuries as a big, soft bed, without there being strings attached. The world he'd been plucked from hadn't been his own, but instead one where he himself was the commodity. A concubine whose master changed on a monthly basis. So, the change in surroundings wasn't something to set off any alarm bells.

Neither was waking up with someone in the bed with him. That was more common than not, and had been for quite some time now. Which was why whoever happened to be sharing the bed this time was going to have a sleepily affectionate teenager cuddling right up to them.]

b. auction

[While he certainly looks the part of a virgin, Natsume is anything but. Still, he's never had this much of a fuss made over him. He's been dressed in flowing pastel robes that give little peeks at pale skin with hints of a golden pattern. A matching, half-veiled headdress has been crowned with golden antlers that were dripping in translucent gems that caught the light with the slightest turn of his head.

As he made his slow walk across the stage, Natsume couldn't help but recall a similar sort of costume he'd worn. He'd been pretending to be a deity of sorts then, too. His eyes were a dark amber over the half-veil, clear of any drug when he reached the microphone. Hesitating only a moment, Natsume automatically fell back on a practiced little speech. There was no terminal here to display his information for him, so he would have to appeal to those at the auction himself. It wasn't much different from what he'd been doing for the past year or so, and his nervousness faded away as he spoke, his voice softly respectful, one hand lifting palm up toward the audience in entreaty.]

My name is Natsume Takashi. I come from Earth originally, and am an eighteen year old, human male. Due to certain circumstances, I've been genetically modified for your pleasure. I look forward to meeting you soon, Master.

c. galatea

[It's been a long, long time since Natsume has encountered something at all like the youkai he'd had back home. The faint sound of marble cracking, then crumbling from a statue of a man almost didn't catch his attention at first. He was mesmerized by the sight of it blinking down at him.

A cold, stone hand touching his cheek brought Natsume back to his senses. Yelping, Natsume made a wild swing that missed its target (thankfully, or he might have hurt himself), and took off running. The statue was slow to follow, at least at first. Soon though, Natsume would find himself running blindly through the casino, with the marble statue hot on his heels.]

Look out!

[Wildcard/ooc: Am up for quite a lot aside from vore, bathroom & emeto kinks. Any mind readers will find evidence of his memories being tampered with, and bringing it up won't get anywhere at this point. Oh, and trauma. Lots of trauma under the hood. Those sensitive to it will be able to sense he has a great deal of spiritual power, but not much control over it.

The genetic enhancements were increased stamina, regeneration, and enough elasticity added to his bones and organs that he won't break easily. He was meant to be, and has been bred with monsters, though that function is curiously not working here. Also the mun is a little rusty, please let me know if I hecked anything up.]

1. THE SYMPOSIUM

a. divine awakening (arrival)
[ For someone who sleeps very little (never enough), Shoko wakes from a surprising deep and refreshing slumber. The luxurious sheets and covers are tempting her to stay with them, wrap herself up in Hypnos' embrace a little longer, just a little, a seductive little whisper which persuades her to close her eyes again and roll onto her back.

One slender arm wrapped in golden stars stretches out and accidentally slaps bare skin. Cracking one eye open, Shoko finds herself facing a bare back. She reaches out again to trail a finger along the shoulder blade. ]

Did you take me home with you?

b. worship me (gilded cage)
[ Stretched out on the daybed, she watches the spectacle in the banquet hall, her doe-eyed gaze trailing from body to body while a servant is feeding her small bites of something delicious. Such debauchery, live and in colour, makes for a beautiful change from her usual clinical and sterile examination rooms.

Catching the attention of a lower rank near her tent, she points at a goblet at the banquet table. ]

I'd like some of that. Fetch it for me, will you?

2. THE GAMES

a. a beautiful girl (phoenix casino)
[ ooc: Happy to have her go to the highest bidder. Feel free to PM/ to hash out details, or drop a starter and we'll take it from there. ]

b. Artemis in the flesh (wayward archer) - you decide which colour hit you
[ Although (or perhaps because) she has never been extensively trained in fighting styles, Shoko decides to join the archers for this game. Colour high in her cheeks from excitement, she takes careful aim - and misses. Once, twice, thrice. Her small pout progresses into a scowl as she grabs one of the arrows and throws it at closest target much to the amusement of everyone.

The goddess of failed hunt reaches for another arrow before she struts across the stand and taps a target's cheek with it. Red lips curve like a scythe. ]

Mine.

3. WILDCARD / PERMISSIONS

[ Permissions and kinks list are on her journal. If you'd like to do something else with her, feel free to reach out via pm or hyperviolence. ]

divine awakening

[ Obikawa has become well-adjusted to the timely disturbance of a visitor at all times; expectant, but undeniably waiting for someone to make an appearance. His preferred choice, however he can't say that he has any complaints being locked inside the same room for days at this point -- he has his games, cat, and his snacks.

But when he slowly blinks awake there's an absence that settles like a rock in his stomach almost immediately. The bed is comfortable, his back is against a mattress that is clearly more than he could ever afford, and as the light creeps out through the curtains he becomes even more aware that he's above ground. Somewhere near the ocean? The familiar scent gives him no comfort as he moves to peel the thin blanket from his body.

Silver markings pepper his skin at random places across his body, the pattern similar to that of a snakes scales, but at the time they go unnoticed as Obikawa feels the presence of someone stirring beside him. Accompanied by another a growing hunger that sends pangs to his stomach, enough to make him want to outwardly complain in defiance. ]

... Ah. [ Obikawa parts his lips, eyes wide as he expresses subtle awe...

And then he's more animated, pulling the sheets off completely from the bed. ] Are you dead? Does that mean I can eat you? You have two seconds!

endless feast

[ Adoration and praise is nothing new, but Obikawa knows better than to play in the familiarity of being so sought after --

Which is absolutely a lie. Considering his treatment back home this is a well-deserved service; leaning into every coo and touch from anyone who wishes to impress him. But there's only so much delicacies and privileges he can enjoy before it all becomes so boring, and while he enjoys being handfed various fruits there's still a want for more that he can't sedate.

Apologies to the person who has been feeding him for the past ten minutes. Bringing up a hand to push away the giant leg from a roasted chicken he had ordered them to hold.]

This is so boooooringggg... I wanna play Mario Party. Or a farming sim.

[ He perks up from the couch he's been comfortably spread across, perched on his elbow. ]

Hey, do you hate this? And don't lie. I'm really good at telling when people are being dishonest.

narcissus

Shut up! You look like you pick your nose when you're bored!

[ Unfortunately Obikawa can't let his reflection to be left undisturbed, though he initially intended to ignore his admiration. It almost feels foreign, the discomfort crawling through his chest as the ripples in the fountain water twist his image. First it's of his face but then it's of someone else.

It's honestly a blessing that you didn't become a father.

Encourage him to stop fighting with himself or be a little nosy. Unfortunately he looks like he's about to jump into the fountain and start throwing hands. ]

wildcard

( I'm open to any other prompts, so please feel free to PM me if you'd like to plot out anything in particular or just throw something in. You can have him getting punched by a statue or coming close to drowning -- I'm really down for anything. That also includes kinks but if you're curious feel free to shoot me a message.

That said Obikawa is very new about the act of having sex. He's familiar, knows the basics, but literally experienced his first hand job recently in canon, so expect him to be a bit of a mess. He's also a little bit of a freak so be warned that he'll unabashedly ask personal questions and hardly respects boundaries. Also if you look at his icons yeah his tongue can get like that, as well as several other parts of his body. )

— GILDED CAGE | servants (nsfw optional)

[ This is certainly quite something, Reign thinks, as he stands with his back ramrod straight, waiting to be called upon as he throws a sweeping glance over the Royals and Wildcards making merry of the feast. As an Eight, he's faring much better already compared to other lower ranked servants. At least he's not shoved into one of those skimpy maid's outfit. Besides, it's not as if he hasn't serve others before. There's always something to be said about receiving little morsels of praise whenever the higher ranks are pleased with him.

Regardless, he mingles amongst the high-ranking guests, making sure to be on his best behaviour, ever ready to serve in any capacity available. With an easy smile on his lips, he soon approaches when called upon. ] How may I be of service?

[ Whether it be hand feeding snacks, showering words of admiration, or displaying physical affection. His services also includes carnal satisfaction, should that be asked of him. ]

— PHOENIX CASINO | casting lots (nsfw)

[ Sometimes the games at the casino are harmless fun, other times it's a blatant horny game. Is Reign surprised? Not really, except be wryly in awe of the many ways a simple game can turn sexual. It's not as if he hasn't seen similarly-themed die before in one of the sex toys store.

With a bemused grin, he waves at the die between himself and his companion. ] Ready to give this a spin?

[ Although Reign may be an Eight now, perhaps you're lucky and caught him after he'd lost a bout of Heads or Tails and ended up being of a lower rank. Time to make him work! ]

— INDULGENCE | galatea (nsfw optional)

[ There's all sorts of strange supernatural beings at the resort. Reign has seen his fair share. Moving portraits, ghosts, the lists goes on. A moving statue isn't too dissimilar to the mannequins he'd encounter before. So of course his first instinct is to run.

The first mistake is to think that he could outrun said statue, despite it being made of marble and must weigh a lot. The second mistake is to not realise the possibility that there is another statue waiting for him around the corner, even if he had escaped the initial one.

Alas, Reign finds himself being dragged back to wherever the statue came from. Soon, strong marble arms begin to wrap around his torso, and the statue's smooth lips pressed to the back of his neck.

Then he starts calling for help. ] Whatever you do, please try not to destroy it. [ Is what he says to whomever heed his cries. ]

— INDULGENCE | pandora's box (blanket cw)

[ The maintenance floor is one of the place Reign has long wanted to investigate, but always find himself not going through with it, or distracted by other matters. This time, though, the whispering voices catches his attention, and he intends to follow it.

What he comes across when he opens the door is a white, sterile room, and Reign wonders if this is one of those roleplay rooms not unlike the ones at Naked Yolk. There's a table and two chairs. Perhaps an interrogation play? Prison play?

Curiosity gets the better of Reign as he steps into the room. Maybe there's some sort of clue on the table, or—

Whoever next opens the door will see very much the same view Reign did earlier, except now there's a curled up figure at the far end of the room's corner. Crouched low, teary eyes clamped shut, and hands covering ears. In contrast to his usual calming pheromone, it now inflicts fear and screaming "stay away" to anyone approaching. ]

— WILDCARD | notes

[ ooc : if you want to play out other prompts, throw them here or hit me up. reign's permission/info and kink list can be read here. all age and gender are welcome. reign is male-leaning and prefers a submissive role. any questions, please reach to me via miershyk or pm. ]

i, awakening;
[Truthfully, Yinlin can’t remember the last time she woke up sharing a bed with someone—especially not when she has no memories of how she ended up in that bed. She’s always careful, lest things take a turn for the worse, so waking up wrapped in gauzy fabrics, on what seems to be a mountain top and with a stranger at her side is… new. Novel, almost, even if it puts her on edge. Old habits die hard, even if this isn’t something most criminals in Jinzhou could pull off. (None of them would have rooms this nice, either… At least not for her)

The silver thorns snaking over her skin are also new, and she traces the patterns on her skin with her eyes as she sits up. Changing her clothes and marking her? Whoever did this is bold, but before she can do any investigation she needs to address the elephant in the room. Or the stranger in the room, who is likely not elephant-esque.

She leans over, gently brushing over the stranger’s arm. There’s an electric shock that comes with her touch, a static charge to her skin, but they’re asleep, so it’s fine. Right?]

Wake up, sleepyhead.

[She’s got Questions and she needs Answers.]

ii, endless feast;
[This is… more attention than she’s used to. She gets looks, she knows, and she can draw a crowd when she performs, but that’s different from being treated as something divine. Reverence is something she’s typically seen turned towards the deceased, people clinging to their rose-tinted memories of the people they loved, and having attention like that turned on her is, again, incredibly new.

Not to mention how the past several years she’s been trying not to draw much attention at all, needing to keep to the shadows and the fringes of society. Now here she is, all dolled up and being treated like some sort of goddess. The food and drink on offer don’t provide any satisfaction, and hedonism seems to be the aim. She couldn’t blame anyone who gets swept up in that hedonism, even if she’s far too suspicious to let down her guard entirely.

Still, she can look like she’s playing along and immerse herself into this place in order to get insider information. That’s why she’s looking for people who look unsurprised by what’s going on, settling down next to them during the feast.]

You look like you’re enjoying yourself.

[It’s either spoken with a lighthearted genuineness or dry sarcasm, depending on the look on her New Best Friend’s face.]

Mind indulging me for a moment?

iii, battle royale;
[She wouldn’t consider herself bloodthirsty, or as someone who’s prone to violence, but the royale isn’t something she can ignore. It’s not a crime, no, but she finds herself making her way down to the arena. She declines the armor on offer, finding most of it far too bulky for how she likes to fight, and there’s a girlish smile on her face at odds with the sharpness in her eyes.]

Go easy on me?

[It would be easy to believe her act of an arrogant Wildcard in over her head, but she holds herself like someone who’s faced down death more than once.

She doesn’t have any plans of forfeiting, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be convinced, right?]

If you forfeit I promise I’ll stop them from stringing you up. They have to listen to me, right?

[She's prepared to fight, of course, but it's more fun when you test if people first.]

iv, wildcard;
[i have no idea what i’m doing and i’m not prepared, but fuck it we ball. as a note for anyone who gets touchy with yinlin, that static mentioned in the first prompt? yeah, that’s a constant thing due to her powers of electricity manipulation. she can also paralyze or puppet people with electric threads, so!! fun for everyone. if you wanna work something out feel free to pm me!]

WINNER, WINNER

⇀ the betting

[ In general she finds the auctions gaudy, and a little distasteful, but she wears a placid smile anyway. Never mind that she isn't a virgin, not entirely, since she's willing to argue semantics. Not that anyone seems to care, least of all the handlers lining them up like cattle backstage, ensuring their numbers are polished and placed just right. But nothing could have really prepared her for the chaos that the curtain dulled, or how raucous the voices on the other side of it would be once she could see the alcohol-flushed faces and wide, feral gazes of the guests gathered around the catwalk.

She's always wanted a chance at seeing it all up close, hasn't she? Resented her friends and her teacher for years for keeping her away from the action because of how indispensable she is. Suddenly, and inescapably, she understands why they kept her away. Better to keep smiling anyway, as she tunes out the voice over the PA and anything it might have to say about her. She'll tempt fate all on her own, thank you.

The robes are all they'd been provided, and she's careful to tuck her hands subtly between her thighs as she crouches. No sneak peeks. No peeks at all, if she can help it, which is why she singles out someone who looks the least desperate, the least offensive, to turn soft brown eyes on as she cranks up her quiet charm. ]

Please tell me it's not always like this around here.

⇀ the victor

[ It could be worse, she figures, though it'll take awhile for her to really swallow the idea that she's been bought. It begs the question of just what kind of place this is, although she's pretty sure she's already been exposed to most of the ugly just in the last couple of hours. At least, she has to hope it won't get any uglier than that, as she tightens her robe around her waist and folds her arms across her modest chest.

The room is opulent, decked out with a huge bed, a leather sofa, and what looks like an ensuite, but that isn't really surprising either. Not with the numbers that had been thrown around in the din of the ballroom, or the zeroes that had eventually been the winning bid for her attention for the evening. She assumes it's evening, anyway, though the lack of windows hasn't escaped her notice. ]

So, is this your first human auction, too, or are you an old pro at this?

[ The look on her face should indicate well enough she's being sarcastic, even though her body language is anything but comfortable. The sofa she sinks into may be plush, but the room itself is chilly. Or maybe she's just more nervous than her collected demeanor will ever really reveal. Not home, not here, not ever if she can help it. ]

CASTING LOTS (nsfw)

You look nervous. Relax, I don't bite.

[ Her voice is airy, her gaze heavy and fixed as her next companion sits. There's really nothing at all to this "game," at least not for her since apparently she outranks everyone. But it's an easy thrill and it's one-handed for the most part, letting her dangle a cigarette precariously from her other hand, marbled with silver, as she leans against the small, sunken table. The blue felt is velvety, the woodgrain polished to a mirror, but the stools are surprisingly stiff and uncomfortable. Well, maybe just one more roll. Even if she isn't really gaining anything monetarily out of the deal, it feels like good karma to give out a few wins. Besides, she's definitely being a lot easier on her partners than some of the others around; she hasn't even orgasmed, but the House lets her designate what satisfaction is, so... ]

You hoping for anything in particular?

[ She'll wait a beat for an answer as she juggles the die in her fist. Then, lackadaisically, she lets it roll off her fingers and into the well of the table, while she takes a drag off her cigarette. ]

A BESTED BEAST

[ She can relate to the looks on some of these faces as the losers of these arena battles file in. That kind of humiliation, the shuffle of their steps: kinda how she felt after that foolish auction, honestly. It's more than obvious this place gets some kind of kick out of shaming its patrons, which isn't exactly an ideal pitch for a resort, but at least it leaves her with some room to help. And helping, however tedious, helps her settle in in a way. ]

Over here!

[ In the depths of the arena, not so far from fighters barracks, someone has set up a bit of a first-aid station. It's rustic, mostly just a table and a couple of stools, adorned with a pack of cigarettes, and ashtray, and only the bare essentials of bandages and disinfectants. The resident aid herself is a slender girl, nearing the end of her teenage years though there's a maturity in her tired eyes far beyond that. Maybe because she's seen so much worse than anything these guests are bringing in, even the bloodiest and most bruised of them all. It says a lot, too, that whoever they're going up against can stomach beating their opponent to a pulp like that. At least most people seem to be getting off easy.

In any case, it's much more amusing to her to see the aftermath of the battles than the battles themselves, to be able to evaluate the injuries and get in a little practice and education. She might as well make the most of things while she's here. Although it is getting harder and harder to keep a straight face as the costumes seem to get more and more ridiculous. ]

Did you get last pick or what? [ It's genial, and definitely a little judgmental, as she surveys the outfit of her (hopefully) latest ward. ] Is this one even an animal?

NARCISSUS WEPT

[ The first glance had been innocent, a means to check her lip gloss and the sweep of her fringe. She isn't vain by any means, but it has been a whirlwind of a week already, and mirrors seem a bit too personal of a thing to confront just yet. Yet as the week has continued, it's been easier and easier to get lost in her reflection, from puddles left on the shower floors to the rippling of the baths—even the shimmering red-gold of her increasingly indulgent trips for tea. (It never quenches her thirst, no matter how many cups she drinks.)

It's lucky then that when she finally peers too closely at her lashes in the pool, she's hardly alone. The splash she makes as she hits the surface reverberates along the tile, chlorine burning her nose as she struggles not to gulp for air too late. Her arms flail like the most tragic of ducks, caught off guard and doing its best to take off from the water but failing. She's tangled in something, almost immediately, and it's frightening enough that her usual cool gaze is wide, white, frightened. It's the first thing anyone will see when she desperately claws for the churning surface, for the cool tile along the edge. ]

No!

[ Clipped short and bubbling with the way she's pulled back down. In an embarrassing sort of way she almost doesn't mean it; after all, she'd been the one to be seduced by her own reflection, the curl of her lashes, the curve of her shoulders. But however she does mean it certainly doesn't involve flapping helplessly in the water as something threatens to keep her there. RCT won't help her underwater; there's nothing there to heal. And the promise of not dying forever isn't exactly the comfort her reflection—or whatever is parading as it—seems to think. ]

OOC

( shouko is 17 (18 in november), if that's a dealbreaker, though more than happy for some gen/sfw threads until she's of a comfier age range. (although here's a kink list anyway.) she's precocious, intelligent, and plans on lying about her age to earn her medical license sooner because there's nothing more fascinating than anatomy (clinically speaking). if you've got anything weird going on or are non-human she'll love it.

feel free to wildcard any of the other prompts and i'll roll with anything! she has a slight romantic preference for ladies, but is an equal opportunist otherwise and is more than happy to take advantage of her current position as a wildcard. while she's expressing malevolent divine features, it's not because she's a bad person; she's just not particularly forthright. )

Arrival:

Nara felt his consciousness come to him slowly. It almost felt like a hangover; like he was slowly coming to shore after a long swimming from a distance.

Slowly, Nara sat up in his too short tunic, showing his legs, his arms. Vines of gold clamped onto his limbs like shackles, and he couldn't see them. Not yet. He was squinting, dark eyes slowly taking in the surroundings. But looking at it all, blinking and taking in slow breaths of air, Nara had to wonder one thing.

“...Am I dead or just hungover?”

Auction: (NSFW possible)

“Yes, my name is Nara. Yes, I am a dragon shifter. No, you can't get on my dragon sized dick. That can't fit in any human and I will not try.”

His voice was bored, but his eyes were quietly furious. This was something of a nightmare for his people- something of a bedtime story. But more then anything he hated- oh he hated- that he would have to obey whoever bought him.

So he bared his teeth as the auction started off. And he felt as if he had to offer a warning to anyone interested, loud over the shouts.

“I bite. You fools.”

Narcissus (nsfw altered body stuff possible)

He'd been, foolishly, looking to see what the water was all about. It was just something in a pond- something that seemed off that he wanted to sniff carefully. Which was how Nara had been snatched up. Snatched up and Nara was scrabbling for the shore.

“Damnit!” Claws formed on his hands, and black scales went up his arms, down his legs. Nara cursed up a storm as he strained and tried to pull himself free. The more he struggled, the more dragon like- with horns and a functioning tail- would form in his effort to get free. He'd even form wings if that's what got him out of this.

Wildcard

Have Nara in other prompts or locations! He's a dragon shifter OC and yes he is a grumpy boy. Also hey I'm Nammah. Hoping to see how well he'll click here before asking for an invite! And yes. Yes you can have a human sized dragon dick.

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Midnight | Arknights | 6♠ | Returning Player