【 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.
In a technical sense Hank is completely right, and given the way they've both started snipping at each other in this conversation, Gen really didn't expect any other response. The blasé comment about functioning human anatomy, the biting retort about Gen's scope of winning being small and petty--
The comment about actually enjoying it though wasn't on his list of expected replies though, and his fingers do actually still for a moment in surprise at that.
Just for a moment, because if Hank's going to try to out smug him here, then two can still play at that game, with 'at that game' here apparently meaning 'with Hank's nipples'.
"I'm just trying to help a guy out here. You have to settle in and get used to this kind of weird shit eventually, right?"
Magnanimous of him, truly, and not at all looking like he's preening just a little at the admission.
[Matoba grins, in an effort to seem pleasant that only halfway approaches genuine. If this woman could not see the spell, then that perhaps confirmed for him that he did not have to concern himself with the nitty-gritty.] You could say that my eye is at risk from outside factors. Call it something like a curse. Regrettably, this strange place even has dangers such as these...
But enough of that. Shall I draw?
[Reaching outward, Matoba makes for the next card. The "house" was built in alternating triangular shapes, which meant that getting to the end of one "triangle" was a tricky situation. Carefully, Matoba separates one half of a hut and sets the other back onto the house with a careful precision. That one could be Ish's next draw, if she was feeling daring. He flips the card and lightly clears his throat.]
[Hank clutches his shirt together more tightly, wondering if to start buttoning up his shirt again. Yeah, that’s probably for the best. He’s already flashed Tharja enough.
Starting at the bottom, now: one button, two. He still has to use the damn clamps with another person, but at this point, maybe he’ll just take the loss. What’s the worst that could happen? Worse than seeing — or being — an old man, running around in nipple clamps?]
Would you believe me if I said they feel terrible?
[“Mortifying” is probably closer to the truth. And while other people are still taking a turn at the stupid wheel, winning their stupid prizes, it isn’t a consolation, really.
Because none of them — that Hank has seen so far — is ancient like him. And obviously, none of them are Hank.
[ It's incredible what a little extra and unknown substance can do to a guy, even one used to heavy drinking. It's really making Broca glad he tends to be a little more cautious when it comes to free offerings from the hotel, because he doesn't trust it to not drug him in some tragic and unfortunate way.
As he takes the pan from Midnight and watches the man teeter off to the bathroom, that point is driven home. And although the sound of him expelling everything he consumed yesterday isn't exactly what one would call pleasant, Broca's seen Chiave throw up in front of him one too many times to feel particular bothered by it.
Instead as he sets the pan on the burner and turns the heat to medium, he wonders vaguely to himself whether Midnights even going to have it in him to eat any of what Broca's cooking right now.
Ah well, he'll decide when he stumbles out of that room in a bit, and Broca, in far better shape than his friend there, will eat regardless. He's headachey, sure, but he's still hungry. ]
[ well yes, she did. ] You're all scarred and gnarled like an ugly root vegetable, and maybe I could make mashed potatoes out of y-- [ oh, well. there's her windshield totally cracking under his... limbs. what is going on with those, he must have some transformative arts or even restorative or he's just some tough-to-kill bastard because a lesser man should be passing out from the pain or just lying down and begging for forgiveness and mercy.
but here he is throwing up all over her joyride.
unforgivable. ]
I'm going to make you regret that--! [ a threat she could still casually laugh almost in sing-song; clearly the sane thing to do is bail, but she's going to try to trust in this thing's windshield to 1) not shatter into pieces to cut her under this viney assault and 2) if it does, let it happen after she...
slams her foot on the pedal and drives this thing aiming to crash him full-force into a load-bearing pillar.
it's going to hurt for the both of them but hopefully a lot more so for one of them as she flings the door open to jump out. well she'd scanned around this place for an exit and this place might as well be a maze in how she couldn't locate one. that's fine. she doesn't mind trying to bring a section of it down to brute force a way out. ]
[Rude could have gotten off to teasing Aventurine to the edge of his sanity, but it's the little glances and moans and how he arches his ass up for more. It's impossible not to want more when he behaves like that, but this was the same man that insisted that he should do what he wants.
And apparently, it's what they both want. He gets to his feet, positioning behind him, rubbing the head of his length against his hole before trying to nudge inside him.]
I didn't think you'd agree this easily. That you're cute, I mean.
[He has a piercing at the head of his cock, but isn't sure Aventurine would be able to tell without looking once he's sinking in deeper, stretching him open in ways his tongue and fingers couldn't manage. Rude swears softly at how good he feels, one hand on the back of Aventurine's thigh and the other on his shoulder to help steady him as he thrusts in the rest of the way. Maybe if he hadn't taken so long playing with his food he wouldn't be quite this desperate for release, and his pace gives that away.]
(texas might never say anything about her differences (at least about the change in her demeanor) partially being from a combination of things. none of them good. but that in itself is a given from the house, and it's brand of sadism. sometimes it was easier to comply depending, other times? yeah, she rather stick her head in her bathroom sink and hope to god that it sends her off.
anyway, that yip was worth it. she doesn't always do these things to begin with, but that's what a little break in character does. not that texas would talk about hearing lappland make a sound like this, if anything this is more an amusement for herself. that and she almost wonders how exactly the other wolf seems to be handling this better than cellinia thought. thinking about it, there are a number of reasons that neither should get into whenever this is a party.
another glare, cry and squeal. right. as foreign as this would be, part of her might be easier to provoke. that can also be blamed on her lovely (no) suit. giving up control, the idea isn't one which texas could say she likes the sound of. especially not to someone beside her. still, it's a game. the pay-out might be nice, and she did need the chips. getting those christmas gifts was a bit of a pretty penny.
....and maybe there's enough morbid curiosity on what can happen.)
Do I look like I'd squeal? (staff seems to have caught on to her habits, since one of them brought over an ashtray for her to take in. that, or they assumed she might use those cigarettes for anything but her own consumption of them this time.)
[ At that dark aura, Xue Yang's gaze shifts and goes sharp. Not a look of fear, but of interest: from different worlds the two of them may be, but powers built off the same concepts at their cores inevitably share some overlap regardless of the specifics of manifestation. Whatever that aura is is something else, but to Xue Yang it sure feels a hell of a lot like resentful energy. ]
You're dead?
[ The question slips out with no attempt to stop it, eagerness seeping into his tone. It suddenly makes the earlier question make a lot more sense: corpses are sensitive to neither heat nor chill. Is the outfit perhaps not the cause, but something done to hide his decay, or otherwise disguise his state?
The threat receives no hint of unease in reaction. Xue Yang's expression is that of someone who relishes playing with fire and has just spotted an unfamiliar flame. ]
Hank still has his hands on Gen’s hips, but he moves one up along his back. Not at all trying to be helpful. Trying to be unhelpful, perhaps.
“This your good deed for the day, then? Helping an old man get all settled in?”
It is arguably a pretty good fucking day if Hank can have someone’s hands on his chest like this. Someone in his lap. Strange, absolutely, that this could become Hank’s new normal.
It’s been a long time since anyone has really touched him. A long time. Is Hank a little unnerved? Absolutely. Does he let it show? Trying not to. His heartrate is rising to a steady thump-thump, but it isn’t running a mile per minute just yet.
Well. More like crash. If he were not in such a precarious position right now, he could respect the play. High risk high reward, take out your opponent by any means necessary, including but not limited to giving yourself whiplash and utterly wrecking your swanky new ride. That's some top tier commitment there, he might even give her a bow.
By which i mean his torso is crushed so throroughly it knocks the wind, and whatever other juices he kept down, right out of him. His vines cease their attack as what remains of his upper half goes limp on the hood. There's a wet splat under the car as his crushed lower half gives in and disconnects, sliding down the pillar and on to the cold asphalt to join his other leg. A pool of blood, organs, and black ichor seep from beneath the hummer, the scent of copper mixing with the engine's now busted radiator as it leaks out.
Well, the deed is done, she's taken this guy out. She's free to explore the lot or simply hijack another limo. Who's going to stop her? The cops??? Good fucking luck.
But before she can get too far away, her ears may pick up the faint crackles of a dried up vine slinking at her on the concrete, like a misplaced viper. It's followed by the sound of creaking metal, and should she look over, something is forcing back the hummer juuuust enough to give Chobe's body some breathing room. She may get an eyeful of his mutilated corpse sprouting all sorts of twisting, rotting vines and roots, blinding whipping about to drag organs back into flesh, stitching limbs together, snapping bones back into place. Chobe's good eye opens wide as his torso's reattached proper, staring daggers at the wolf as that stray vine he sent toward her curls into the air and strikes. She can avoid it of course, but if she's not fast enough, he's gonna try to send her off with at least one new hole.]
[To the question, not the last declaration.] I would not say you are dumb necessarily. There is nothing wrong with desiring things plainly told. [Now that Concord is not so tall, he appraises Concord's face for a moment, the blue-gold speckled eyes surveying the earnestness he might find.
One hand settles on one of Concord's shoulders. It's a normal hand outside of the appearance; the look of it, unfortunately, is ethereally ghastly. Up close, it's easy to make out of the pieces of golden metal welded into the flesh.]
I'm going to link our minds. I can explore yours. Though... perhaps I don't need to if you are such a straight-forward man.
[ He's quiet, observing the path her fingertips make almost more than he feels them. But he does feel them, the temperance of her warmth undaunted over the coarse topology of his skin. A little like being lead to water, or to light. He has the wherewithal to think it's a gentleness undeserved, but he keeps that to himself.
Making him drink is another matter, even if he thinks about it. ]
I see. If I had to take a guess... [ When her touch arrives back to the divots of his fingers, he tips her hand into his, clasping it lightly. With a bend of his elbow, it brings it upward to press the line of her knuckles to his burning cheek. Just slightly askew of his lips, though he can still speak the words into her skin. ] You really know just what to do to make someone feel better.
[ That dim red centered in his eyes winks out when he shuts them in thought, a satisfied downturn at the sensation. He's ready to let it go in the same instance, grip slacking. ]
I can say, though. I'm glad it happened to be me this time.
[the way you just let me go twice stupidly pretzels you
His brows furrow gently, the strange, geometric design covering the skin around them wrinkle every so slightly. He continues with the card, though, not shifting his eyes away from the task.]
Our dream. To help others.
[A small correction, not given irritably. It's funny Nehan should say romantic. Anyway.] I was dying. [The card slips out without toppling the rest, but he holds it between his fingers.]
I walked with a cane for almost all of my life. The leg never kept me from believing in myself. Neither did being from the Undercity. But... [He rubs the card with one of the strange thumbs. He does not mind explaining really. It is inconsequential now, he thinks.] I was probably already ill; the symptoms didn't surface until I became older. It was likely from pollution I experienced as a child.
My body felt like a prison.
[He glances up from the card.]
"What is something you wished more people cared about?"
This place isn't big on practicality. If there was one, I'd say the standard issue outfit here would be the birthday suit. [ Not literally, but Gregor should get J's drift when he's bare beneath the scant robe. It's practically a routine thing to suffer a little forced nudity or for residents to find incentives dangled over their heads to strip down and bare it all.
Out of everything that Greg could potentially throw at a creature who wallows in sin and vice, he chooses that little curveball about how apparently repressed he is. Cue some very owlish blinking, because isn't Greg a little old to be a prude?
J's attention slides over to the vehicle's nearest door, his tail looping through the handle and giving it a tug. Nothing. J wouldn't be surprised if putting his back into an escape attempt, perhaps by trying to take the door off its hinges, would fail just as spectacularly. He doesn't frown, but there isn't any mirth in his eyes at the thought of being trapped in here simply because a randy car has decided to lock them in until it sees some action. ]
I'd say you're going to have to get real comfortable here with strangers showing up in your bed. But it's presently the least of your worries, all things considered. [ Very reassuring. You're welcome, Gregor. ]
[ It isn't a bad offer at all. Information doesn't usually come free, but this man is more than happy to provide it. Kabru will need to hold on to them to find out whatever he can - both literally and figurately, right now.
Right now, he would prefer to go somewhere quieter where they can talk. Of course, the only way to get there is to grip on to the other man like some sort of baby animal (he does not know what a koala is), or hold hands and swim through the air. The latter sounds really effortful. ]
If it's alright for you ... [ There's a nervous, apologetic smile before Kabru tightens his hold around Hiyori's back. He steps off the ground now, feet lifting weightlessly, and wraps his thighs around the other man's waist. It could be a compromising position to be found in, but Kabru also has no shame. He only looks nervous because he doesn't want to make the other person uncomfortable. ]
It's a joke, Texas. That being said, I'm sure I could pull one out of you if I put my mind to it.
But I'll be so gracious as to allow you to choose the room or even toys within if we're going to play this game. Play like this is usually a two-way street, you know. [ with the sub in control of setting the limits rather than the dom. not to talk herself up as some expert on kink, because she's not, and she usually likes things rough and hard and obscene and even dubconny. but if she has a soft spot or sentimentality or consideration for anyone, it's always always texas. ah, funny, if she had anything like feelings it really would always be for texas. she could think all she'd like in the privacy of her mind about how she'd sure like to make her cry, and she truthfully does, but whether she actually goes through with it is another story.
she raises an eyebrow at the ashtray offered. one ear flicks; she personally hasn't smoked since the old days, hasn't lapsed and doesn't plan to, but she supposes texas might be more stressed out than her. ]
I would've thought that you wouldn't want to submit to anyone at all, least of all me, regardless of whatever prize or money might be offered.
[ The game is pretty absurd, and for all the game is advertised as being scandalous, a good portion of the rolls are bound to come out completely tame, even if sometimes they'll veer into just plain weird territory.
This one isn't one of the weirder options, but it's innocuous enough to get a scoffing laugh out of Gen. ]
Like I said, go for it.
[ He'll even be nice enough to sit up a bit so that Archer doesn't have to invade his space too much to give him that little nose kiss. ]
[ she can't make him drink even if she may want to, even if it may be good for him to. she's mended clothes and bodies, stitched each of her friends back together in some way, but even her magic has limits—there's only so much she can do if they refuse. the best she can is to show them that there's another path, to let them know that they're safe.
her skin pebbles with gooseflesh in his grasp, fingers twitching briefly at the feel of his warm breath ghosting across her skin. she almost shivers despite being far from cold, and an incriminating blush stains her cheeks, suddenly glad that his eyes are closed again. ]
I try my best to, [ she says quietly, like a confession. his grip loosens but her hand remains where it is, the pad of her thumb resting against the corner of his mouth. ] But I don't always get it right.
The game sure is taking an interesting turn here, and Gen is no longer sure if they're playing dirty dice, an elaborate game of chicken, or something else entirely.
With his hands resting on Hank's chest though, he can feel the slow but steady increase of those beats; just a little something to indicate that the hand now inching up back might not be entirely done just to keep up this weird little stand off they've started.
If Hank's going to keep cracking jokes about his age though, Gen will play right along with it.
"You look like you're still capable of helping yourself across the street, so I had to find some other way of helping out, Old Man."
How much older than Isao is this guy? Probably not much. Maybe not any older at all. Barely older than Hasegawa, who is still out on the field fighting alongside Gen on the regular.
what happens if a character tries to like. kill the hotel security/NPCs... also i completely forgot if i missed this or if it's in the FAQ or something but are all NPCs/hotel staff ghosts, or some of them, or some are living/humanoid or...? like hypothetically if a chara might try to go on a slaughter spree how would they be captured/subdued and imprisoned or whatever, or what might happen?!
[ It's the emotional stuntedness. He's working on it!
At some level, though, Heathcliff's already caught that he picks on Ishmael because they're the same person in different circumstances. Identities in the same mirror world. He hopes she can change for the bat's chance in hell that people do change, that he does change, that it doesn't always take a clock ticking to help him find his way. Sometimes it's a revised message on a bat. Sometimes it's a hand on the snout of an abandoned hound. Sometimes it's ripping a hole into gross white whale gristle to pull out the pisshead wanker inside. ]
Tosser. No, I don't know what to do either. I just know what I like, and so on.
[ Heathcliff gives her kind of a flat look when she wipes his face — he isn't a child, she isn't Nelly — but holds still until she's done, sipping the rest of the coffee down and brushing off his hands over the tray. Good, full stomach. Head's not too bad. Could be better, but could be much, much worse. ]
Lay down.
[ He nudges her back with a hand to reinforce the command, and he'll move back to make room for her if she does. Regardless of whether she does or not, he'll reach out for the bottom of her shirt and begin unbuttoning it, aiming to see stomach skin. He has to confirm a few things, and he's a hands on sort of guy. The only way to find out is through direct confirmation.
(The panties are good, though. Are those freckles on her thighs? He's looking. He's very focused.) ]
[ Mutter, mutter. Heathcliff resists just a little, not wanting to leave or do anything until he's sure the game is done, but he's too tipsy to resist, so he contents himself with stealing the card. His card now. ]
Nah. I wasn't always... strappin'. Life's unfair when you're small. Gotta get bigger 'n older to settle things proper. Bet Cathy could've given Hindley what for if she was twice his size... ain't fair.
[ Now he's grumbly. He knows that the world is terribly unfair, but he doesn't have to like it. ]
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