【 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 parking garage for all new arrivals. We aim to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience!
All are invited to There Is No Tomorrow, a Phoenix Casino soiree to celebrate our beloved guests. The festivities will begin at 1800 hours on January 20th and end at 1800 hours on January 27th. Please look forward to 168 hours of delight.
In an effort to raise happiness and encourage better guest relationships, attendance is required. The house will assist guests that are too shy to appear of their own accord. Please note that black tie attire is mandatory. As always, we hope you enjoy your stay! 】
PARKING GARAGE
ANY CAR IN A STORM
PHOENIX CASINO HALL
WELCOME TO THE NEXT 168 HOURS
Phoenix Casino is a-flutter with activity and packed to the beak with guests. As a famously ever-changing space, the staff would be remiss if they didn't deck the crown jewel of the Golden Peacock out. The casino glitters from top to bottom, shining brighter than diamonds, rubies, sapphires, opals! Party-goers are shiny and glamorous with picture perfect makeup, fluttering gowns, and sharp suits. Card tables are packed and the slot machines are a-ringing as guests play, play, play! Prizes, luxury, booze, attractive people, it's the place that everyone wants to be at.
Those people being dragged inside by some invisible force...? Silly, they were so excited to come that their bodies moved before they realized what was happening. Those are struggles of joy and definitely not the casino's infamous ghost hands dragging unwilling guests to the party at the behest of the house. Look, they're literally hurling their bodies at the card tables with unrestrained glee!
All clocks indicating day hours and night hours have been removed from the casino. Once a guest has entered, their Watch will jam, making it impossible to keep track of the time. You don't need to worry about that tonight.
▶ 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 January event.
▶ 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. This month we also have an ongoing ATP / EMP where players can connect. Please feel free to utilize this for all of your peafowl needs!
▶ 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!
▶ 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.
(what a strange place. if there is one thing about the knave that is....unique, to put it lightly, it was that she doesn't sleep long. so, waking up in the middle of a strange contraption while having no idea on the when and how of arriving is not quite on her list of things she likes. her confusion (and oh is that large) continues after noticing another thing, her manner of dress. the knave was given a sheer white robe and pants. thin, thin enough that one could see the black and gray tones along her arms and legs. a clawed hand reaches to take hold of her seat before turning her attention now towards the other woman.
is that....wine? a thin white brow raises, now this is a strange woman she has as a "guest".
the knave gets up from the other seat slowly, the robe does little to cover the cursed markings along her arms and down her chest, beneath the curve of her breasts, too. she'll avoid questions on it, for now. what arlecchino does know is one thing, she has no idea where this even is while someone is deciding to start drinking in their current predicament.) Wouldn't wine now be a terrible idea, madam? You don't know if they could have altered it, our captors, that is. (that's what she would do by necessity. not with anything lethal or dangerous, but something meant to keep compliance in the right way.
now, what would compliance in the right way be for someone with an air as oppressive as this woman's? that is a case by case basis, one which she would not elaborate on. anyway, her attention is more on curiously looking around the stretch limo. what is this? this looked far too luxurious to come close to the aquabus of fontaine; her vague recollection of those reminds her that they are by no means this advanced, either. she almost is tempted to try seeing if there's a working door somewhere....if she can find that on her own. but it's best not to be in a hurry.
they've got time, she muses more to herself, though arlecchino would prefer to not be seen out of her element. after a little more searching, she manages to find a ponytail that she reaches to tie that lengthy hair of hers back into a low hanging one. much better.)
If there were mutants in your timeline, at least by the definition that my world goes by, you'd probably would know. [Small pause.] Unless they're still in hiding. Mutants only became known the public around ten years ago.
[When Magneto threated to kill the president on national television and everything. Normal stuff. At least he sort of chilled enough to turn against Apocalypse and save the Professor from him. It's really kind of hard to form an opinion about the former terrorist, so Scott's a little glad that he doesn't have to think about it too much right now.]
Mostly, it gives us powers. [It doesn't look like Scott's bothered explaining this stuff to Akira. Maybe he'll have to do stuff like this in the future back home, so this is good practice. He can see the Professor saying that to him. Talking about mutant stuff in this capacity wakes Scott up a little more anyway, demeanor a little less 'grumpy teen' and more 'trying really hard to be leader material.'
The eggs are probably helping too.] But before you ask, optic blasts.
[whatever excuse he was about to offer, it's cut off by a quick inhale, insectoid arm lifting reflexively into a defensive position. being faced with someone who looks like that is just a bit of a shock, and gregor remains frozen there for just long enough to evaluate his companion; relaxed enough, from the look of it. if he's a threat, maybe not an imminent one.]
Uh, sorry. I wasn't expecting... any strangers to be on this bus, that's all.
[perhaps the irony of reacting to someone else's appearance when he's often on the opposite end of that is not lost on him. his arm lowers, his human arm still holding the robe closed around himself.]
[wow. this guy sure is just deciding he's part of solving this problem now, huh?
on the other hand, maybe having someone up in his business is pretty familiar, especially with nearly all his coworkers missing, and he could use the help-
wait, no, he doesn't need help, he's not going to make a spoon sexy!]
I'm thinking this is more of a joke than anything.
[ Oh, he hates this. He hates this very much. That patronizing tone of voice had been grating enough, but it's nothing compared to the final roll of the dice. Fuuta doesn't have the mental wherewithal to register those pointed teeth, or even whether he's willing to go along with an act like that in such a public setting.
His brain's entirely filled with thoughts of whether it would be worse to prove the guy right by refusing to back off, or if it would be worse to do as the guy says and balk because he doesn't really want to do that.
Fuuta's expression is scrunched up as he hesitates, his cheeks flushed, and there's a significant pause before he finally barks out a (slightly forced) laugh. ]
-- n-not like I care? [ Oh he cares so much. His face grows even redder as the nearby staff titter in excitement, and he tries to ignore it, instead leaning forward and bracing an elbow against the tabletop so he can shoot Midnight a challenging stare. ] But are you really okay with doing something like that? You didn't even want me to take my shirt off. Don't go pushing yourself if you're not comfortable with it, old man.
[ He has no idea if this guy actually is old, of course. But he'll say whatever it takes to get a rise out of the guy at this point, and hopefully get him to back off first. ]
Nobody excepting you and Ish, so far... so if Manager Bud's around here, they haven't gotten into enough of a situation for us to notice yet.
[which is, frankly, reducing the odds for the others to be here, now that he thinks about it. they haven't heard any telltale commotions signaling someone enacting a plan-without-a-plan.]
He almost feels bad as he unbuttons his shirt. Which wasn’t exactly part of the hex, or whatever, but it just feels more natural than clipping them on over his shirt.
Is it the hex that gets Hank to obey, or is he just being cheeky? A little of both, maybe. Hank’s not sure he believes in magic, but he’s also averse to just baring himself to a woman in public — he’s not that rude.
So maybe there is a little magic at play here.]
Okay, they’re on. Whatever. [Clamped tight over his nipples with the weird chain hanging between them. Hank holds his shirt closed afterward, feeling his chest rub against the fabric. Goddamn.] Happy?
[With a glance out the window, Vil nods his agreement. It's not much of a decision, really; it seemed neither of them had any interest in what luxury the car offered, and it would be less awkward in some ways. Fortunately, it doesn't seem like the resort is interested in locking them in the car in some supernatural way, so the door opens easily when he tries the handle.
The parking garage is unsurprisingly cold, but not terribly so; whatever temperature controls are in place for the resort must keep the garage from getting too cold, especially with some guests' tendencies to do the deed literally anywhere. He straightens out his robe with a sigh, looking around the filled out lot.]
...There should be workers around here. Valets, I believe. Though I've never seen any cars actually drive off anywhere.
[His murmured comments are followed by a pause before he mentally shakes himself.]
My, I didn't even ask your name. My name is Vil Schoenheit.
[ she presses something of a sly smile to texas' lips, almost completely uncharacteristically soft and almost completely unlike her. how laughable it is that she'd happily shred the bodies of her enemies apart, casually threaten her underlings or be the most cordial face of customer service to strangers. happily accept after everything they'd been through, that she could be texas' friend. keep secret in her chest her real feelings, as disgustingly apparent as they might be. reluctantly admit to herself that despite their history she knows she's not the closest to texas or anything, but--
she knows her. she knows. she might dare to think and never admit she does actually know her the best after all. a pitiful woman who might never be totally truthful or honest even to her closest friend, who might never open herself to anyone... truly pathetic in a way even lappland herself has to struggle to sink to.
she really doesn't have time for that anymore, after a lifetime of being in love with her. this could be pleasure and just that, kissing her, nuzzling her, caressing those scars and marks on her body. ones she's familiar with and not. her obsessiveness battling with the careful and deliberate choice she's made of her heart. how she would kill for her or go to jail for her as a friend. she kisses thorough and yearning, and the pity and farce is in how she still thinks, she could possibly do even this as a friend. she finally knows she could spend time and energy and dedication to other goals. this is simply indulgence and nothing else.
she moves to push texas down on the cushioned seats, not even breaking the kiss, moving simply to be on top of her with a press of her claws to texas' shoulder. keeping their bodies in contact; and a subtle brush of her thighs as she grinds against texas, the fur of her and the wetness of her she'd share to texas as her body and scent warms with desire. ]
( truly? a fellow appreciator of water in this desolate place? suddenly, it feels as though the clouds have rolled in, the promise of incoming rain hanging in the air. he leans forward, eyes wide with interest.
the card game appears to have been forgotten. )
Really? Then tell me, from where do you prefer your water to be imported from?
( her offer takes him by surprise, and there is a moment where he nearly misses his step before he quickly catches himself again. is it due to his status as the chief justice? even if it means nothing here, surely she must know that he would never accept her generosity without the proper recompense? )
That is...very generous of you, Miss Megistus.
( it feels almost too generous, leaving him at a loss of how best to respond. )
(that smile was noticed, as pathetic as it is there was always that struggle. somehow being made to speak more to what people she's gotten to know has changed it piece by piece, some found out in different ways. cellinia herself might not ever say how. when faced with one's younger self (angry at the injustice, at herself, at everything from a system that destroys more than ever) on a war path to attempt killing you, it also adds to those thoughts being placed into perspective. texas even remembers the words screamed at her, every word that sunk deep. every remark about herself that was true, the wish for acceptance and a desire to no longer be trapped how she was.
the wish that she changed, but texas doesn't want to bring the mood down talking about the circumstances around that event. much less mention how the landscapes used her memories, she didn't want to talk about it because it's better not to. not until another time and place for that where she might no longer be so miserably pathetic.
texas however, knows one thing, that goes as a two-way street between them. knowing one another too well, despite telling themselves they do not, that they weren't that close. that's the problem in itself, isn't it? texas can say that of all the people she knows that lappland can read her to a point others could not. that maybe they both can do as easy as breathing between the soft sighs she makes between kisses, the nuzzling, and fingers running along patches of scars. she has too many. physically, probably otherwise, but she wants to lie more to herself. the only problem is that her lying wasn't working against the feeling of her lips. obsession from lappland, yearning from texas that she might not be able to say. sweet, poisonous, wanting.
her back hits the seats, beneath her this time and hair curtaining behind texas. like she were on one of the adult magazines she's seen around the resort, regardless of the pitiful state of her body. their bodies fit too well together, from that press of them and not daring to part when texas' arms goes around lappland proper, from the grind of their hips together. she moans, she moans into the kiss. feeding them like the sweets she often eats to lappland, her own hips rutting, grinding slowly against lappland's own. for someone that tells herself and lies so often to herself, there's nothing she can think about other than the feeling of heat, skin to skin, lips against lips with shivers running down her spine. sensual, but that can change to being graceless at any time.)
[ It feels good, if not unfamiliar. The cold sheen carving through some of the haze lingering in his thoughts. Luckily he didn't get into anything that made him sweaty or gross, he's just — hot. Lighter picks up on it too, that this stranger with sick scars and a fat ass might be his prototype more similar to him than he would've expected at first blush. He eyes them with similar curiosity, mellow in the lay of his expression: those coarse knots of scar tissue all over his body. Likewise, a boxer's build.
Only the mention of bedding people for chips makes him shut his eyes and shake his head. In theory, it's not all that dissimilar from trading blood for Dennies, and yet... ]
No need. I only seriously get into the ring for money, nothing else. [ And given that they're stowing that convo, he does eventually make it upright with a groan, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. ] You know, I'm not much of a drinker nowadays...
[ Instinctively, he reaches up to his collar to find that the dogtags there are still missing, pausing soberly at that revelation. ]
So I couldn't even tell you what the wringer actually was.
We'll see about that! Give it time. I'll warm up to you soon enough.
[ He hears that Fuuta has told him to stay there, but he's awfully curious. It doesn't seem fair that Fuuta is keeping some little secret (?) from him. He does introduce himself, which is weird because typically he has no introduction. ]
My name is Beowulf, undefeated wrestling champion! AROO!
[ yeah, we know that already.... but now curiosity has gotten the most of him and the weight on the bed shifts as Beowulf joins behind Fuuta to try and peek. Sure enough, Fuuta has several markings along his chest and collarbone. ]
[ What a nice sound. He breathes something like a laugh, lowlit in the heat of his chest. Lucky. Maybe for the first time since he's gotten here. Only her telltale pause signals the reality of the situation looming on the outskirts of his attention. ]
You don't have to elaborate. [ Somehow, even mid-doze, he manages to look grim. ] I should have guessed.
[ Beowulf continues to shampoo her hair contently, eventually allowing his hands to reach her scalp; he treats her to a little scalp massage. Truthfully, he felt more lost back at home, this scene is what he is used to. ]
You'll get the hang of it. Hell, you got the hang of your mercenary work, right?
[ He doesn't need to get into the part of his life where things were pretty low, but maybe that's why his spirits are high because this is so much better than being all washed up, alone and retired. He suddenly stands up and shakes out his own hair before setting his hands on the hem of his shirt and peeling it off with ease. ]
With my help, ya brat! [He has no idea what Akira even did. He's gonna pull those vines back now. They unwrap from Akira's hand and slink back into his skin.]
So the box is vibratin'. What now? You know how to get it movin'? Or am I gonna have to hold yer hand for that, too?
( his expression is grave as he listens, a momentary return to his usual court persona for the duration of this conversation. so far, so good, with everything the knave proposes being satisfactory to his expectations. even the elimination of any intimacy is welcome in its own way. )
Those terms are acceptable. I have one more of my own to propose.
( though it's more of a fallback guarantee than anything else, a condition that'll only see use once they both finish this game. )
Provided we both return to Fontaine, while I will not forbid you of speaking of your time here should you so wish,. I would like to request that you not mention my presence here alongside you. In return, I will grant you the same courtesy.
( he admittedly has more to lose than she does if his stay in a resort such as this were to be exposed, but surely neither of them need the additional rumors swirling about their person. )
[ her smile grows, briefly, at his amused huff, and it remains even after the implication settles in. it's hard to forget where they are, despite the fact that she has yet to figure out where this even is.
her thumb trails down from his brow to his temple, rubbing slow circles there as if in thought. ]
I don't think we have to use them. [ truthfully, she was going to leave them behind. better to pass it along to someone else who could really appreciate it. ] I'd rather just talk to you instead, if that's all right.
[ Gazing at him from over the top of the cuffs as they exchange hands, Lighter considers the options. It's not the worst offer to get when nothing but unchecked revelry is guaranteed, and even that concept has facets, faces he can't see just yet. Not from where he's standing, totally new. Having woken up here feeling like he'd become unmoored from reality, it's been go, go go — up from the unnerving, stationary vehicles, through the resort, into the party. Clocks don't work. Everything that means anything to to him has been shorn away. He'd be lying, if he said he needed longer to sort out what he's really going to do, but...
Play the game does seem simplest in the short term. ]
I might have to take you up on that, if they're really going to put me into debt twice over. [ That possibility sounds tense in his throat. ] You know, I don't really have many addictions, nowadays.
[ Lighter's attention sweeps the floor, spotting the bar. Glossy, gorgeous. A far cry from the setup in the back of the big rig, all cracked and coated in dust. ]
But I think I need a drink before I get any further into it. [ An intention marked by a gesture for Leon to follow him, if he's game. ] Considering my luck so far, I could probably do worse than a cop for a date here.
Having a modicum of choice is a relief, I suppose.
[ Low bar, but he's used to those. In the meantime, please pay him no mind as he turns to putty. She could be readying to beat him senseless with one of the sex toys and he would literally be none the wiser. ]
So sure, [ he intones, timbre fairly honest still. ] that sounds good to me.
[ A quiet swallow, contemplative. ]
Though I can't promise I'll have anything too interesting to talk about. I don't even know what the weather's like out there.
[ sorry brocon, your bro is in another... wherever he is. wherever they'd been doing before chobe got spirited away here. unfortunately he's stuck with worst wolf in a hummer limo right now.
and funnily enough, she is inclined to be cordial and friendly to complete strangers. actually, she's a little intrigued by... well it's not as if being this scarred up is that uncommon, but she might just feel a tiny bit of kinship with a fellow eyescarred criminal-looking bastard like him. aaaand then there he goes out the window, so. that sure happened.
also, ] Monster bitch? Scusami? What's the deal, I'm also-- [ and then that vine coils from his clothes and, hm. funnily enough, she's glancingly familiar with some operators back in rhodes who do have and wield tentacles. at least two. so she takes this in stride for now, just adjusting her evaluation of this stranger accordingly. ]
Depends on what the question is, il mio amico tentacolare!
[ ...... but she leeeans casually on the horn to HONK LOUDLY in his direction regardless, to be a pest. he ruined the window of her car! ]
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
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