【 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.
( no, of course not. because in truth, they're both only winning something here, aren't they?
the box is as fancy looking as one would expect of face cards, and opening it reveals a packing to match. there's three items surrounded by luxurious foam: a remote, with more buttons than aventurine can even attempt to guess what each is for; lube, because it's an essential; and the main participant of their game - a bright pink butt plug big enough that aventurine can tell will be more of a challenge than he thought.
his smile doesn't falter. it does match his eyes, at least. )
This is yours, I believe. ( he hands rufus the remote, nonchalant. there's a particular pointed look around them - they're still very much in public, after all, even if there's not as many guests around -, before it returns to the box, then to rufus. ) Would you like to do the honors, or should I?
( because he figures he won't have the privacy of a bathroom to put the plug in. )
( she's not sure what she expects to come out of it. as far as propositions go, someone with more experience would probably take more time to ease into it instead of waiting until the door's locked for the awkward rejection, and the no escape. way to go, robin, committing a sex-dungeon-posing-as-a-casino faux pas right out of the gate. no one will ever want to sleep with you.
but it could be worse. it could've gone differently, too, if he'd said no and she would've stayed anyway, let the pieces fall in the appropriate slots where they may otherwise. part of it isn't kindness, because part of her is still disbelieving. if they do this, then what do they really get from it? and what price do they really pay? songstress embroiled in a sex scandal, the headlines would say in the taglines of that pornographic paraphernalia. she thinks she'll pay the price eventually, somewhere down the line. most people do.
and it's still not worth someone else's punishment.
he walks up to her with that honed, respectable veneer of calm, and she offers him the gentle politeness of her full attention, her eyes kept respectfully on his face. he said he was boring, uncharming, and without dignity — and maybe it had been unfair to ask him when she's more than capable of putting that all together, when the chances of his refusal are next to none, with a personality like that. but then, his low, level voice, his hands seeping warmth into the slanting curve of her waist, his own flubbing tongue around a slip that sounds, frankly, subconscious are all interesting. charming. dignified enough.
she smiles at that, her face lighting up with a dust of pink to match how embarrassment slips into both of their mannerisms. mister devil hunter could be colder. mister devil hunter is too kind, and much kinder still, to not tell her his name or maybe even no. )
... Not quite.
( it's a quiet non-answer. her gaze finally drops, regarding him somewhere at collar-level as her hands lift up, popping open the first button of his dress shirt with very little flourish, almost domestic in the gesture as she sets about his previous bland attempt to take his clothes off.
she's going down the row of buttons, anyway, not quickly or slowly but evenly enough that the way she steps forward, how she's just as meticulous about it, might make him feel less like he's being herded back and more like it's just part of the process.
just like a dance, she thinks, with the proper steps to go about it. )
You're just very kind... It makes me feel like I'm taking advantage of it.
[Kazuya scooches with a grunt, but makes more than enough room for Ragna considering the fact that he’s a twig, and the bed is more than large enough for the two of them. Does he know it’s Ragna next to him? Yes. He does. Does he care at this particular moment in time? Only a fraction of what he might otherwise.
He needs to do better for Weiss anyway. And this is about as much as he’s willing to give in for the moment, between the edges of sleep and waking.
Ragna will have to fight him for the blanket back, though.]
Some party.
[He croaks. Ah, his throat is a little dry, isn’t it.
Eh, he’ll deal with that later. He’s so comfy and cozy right now.]
[ ... Sigh. In for a penny, in for a pound. Or something like that. Wei Wuxian rubs tiredly at his forehead before pulling up the sleeve on his arm. The wounds are healed but there's a bit of scarring as he shows it to Xue Yang. ]
There were four slash marks on my arm that wouldn't heal until I took care of the people he had grievances towards. Once they died, the wounds healed.
There's a chance, in another ritual, that the person making the sacrifice doesn't want death out of their deal. That wounds like this heal a different way. It's just that in this specific case, the guy who wanted me to do revenge for him, wanted the people revenged upon dead.
[ His cock twitches in Wriothesley's clothed grasp, skin sensitive to the texture of his gloves, the loose curl of his fingers beneath the material. Fingertips tightening against his shoulders, he rolls his hips into his grasp, wanton and eager. ]
I could feel it. [ Kizuna restlessly tips his head aside, baring the shivering slope of his neck to the other man for him to make out with. He's insatiable for his touch, the imprint of his words sinking into his skin. ] Every time you kept your eyes from straying to me, I felt it. Every time you wished someone else's hands were mine, I felt it...
[ And wasn't that the point of the game? To play and revel in the feelings of possession that run low in them both? ]
So, how does it feel to you? [ Now that they're linking, emotions aligned. ] Knowing that you'll always make your way back to me?
It'd be my pleasure. But ah, if my words fall on deaf ears... [ His lips tilt, an insurmountable sadness flooding his expression. ] Perhaps it'll be up to our friends, here —
[ Kizuna's gaze turns on the bouncers, the gold of it lurid and almost a little... threatening? He places a slender palm on the man's chest, patting it consolingly with all the finesse of a judge about to send someone to the gallows. ]
...who'll be stuck explaining why my lover, the resort's one and only Astrologist, is barred entry from an event where she was supposed to divine the fate of its host. [ He sighs, beleaguered. Absolutely wrought with drama. ] It turns out the connections of a ten aren't so honored here after all, are they? A shame...
[ Just as he's about to turn, the visibly shaken guard lifts his guest list with a stammered:
"Ah, please wait, honored guest! I'm sure it's s-simply an oversight, do go ahea —"
He almost doesn't even listen to the rest. Bingo. His expression brightens, burning like starlight. ]
[ This man might not ever know how the gentle rift in his demeanor is helping him right now. In truth, the public nature of such games is hard to wade through — there's so much emotion present even in the physicality that he'd likely go adrift at a minor provocation. But having someone to focus on dulls the roar of it, even if only a little.
His smile deepens at the corners of his mouth, a hand rising to idly twist his fingers through some of the longer locks framing Baizhu's face. ]
No need to apologize. This is more than enough for me. [ He puffs a laugh, still leaned in close. ] Unless you had an idea that doesn't involve the dice?
[ To know the answer and still coax its shape out of the darkness with an expert touch — traced, cut, coiled, denying that it is a nascent thing... truly, he's a fearsome man. That he wears the visage of a dream in this encounter, piled in chantilly-layers of lace, smokey-hued and opulent, juxtaposes the danger with an allure that's difficult to slip free from.
Not that he wishes to be anywhere else. ]
You may not know this, so I'll share it with you.
[ Kizuna mirrors that talent for answers pulled from the deep, a half-step enough to pull himself in close to her, cheek to cheek against the gossamered ink of the veil. ]
[She considers stopping him. Holding him out of some obligation to her. But he really doesn't, does he? There's no owing her anything when he served his role as her Servant absolutely perfectly. If anything she owes him for committing so well.
As such, she doesn't hold him back. Not even to dramatically swoon and rib him about leaving her all alone.]
[ Xue Yang listens attentively, but his gaze is glued to the scars. Without waiting for permission he reaches out and grabs for Wei Wuxian's arm. To trace the cuts, see how the skin has healed and try to imagine what they looked like when fresh (he's seen open wounds plenty of times, less so healed ones; people tend to die on him first). Sense for any lingering resentful energy that might still remain behind as clues. ]
Were these caused by a tool or were they opened by the resentful energy itself?
[while it's been no time since his "death" in combat and this stupid place, there'd been an eleven year gap between his previous "death" and resurrection. Took a while to shake that rust off, but he had enough time to bring himself back to full strength and even further. originally his unversed were fueled by his own emotions and power; now, he can spawn them from the negative emotions of others. considering the fear and terror war brings, the fright and disgust the sight of his unversed create, people's selfish ugly desires to stay alive. while he's aware he's unable to saturate this entire world in his unversed-- something limits his reach, much to his irritation --an area of this size, with this many bodies in it...
a sick grin spreads beneath his helmet, all the more enthralling because gojo can't see shit through the glass. what a sad guy he is. denied at every turn except the one he really wanted to avoid.
this guy's fast. dodges the table almost effortlessly despite the speed and proximity the attack comes out at. it would've been entertaining to see it crush him under the weight, but he'd be so lucky if that's all the guy could put up. after his talk and manner, there's more to him than flippant words. splintered wood and shards of glass belch from the bar as the table crashes into it, broken bottles and glasses spilling fancy drinks and expensive liquor all over the place. a shout pierces the air as the bartender hits the ground, a piece of table pinning his leg between the back cabinets and heavy debris. collateral damages. ]
Don't get so sore. I'm just having a little fun. [temper tantrum. he isn't even angry. three little monsters scramble and twitch eerily as their sharp red eyes glare hateful and malicious, before skitter off into shadows with their end goal being the exits of the casino area. along the way, each one siphons off panic, fear, indignation from guests and staff alike. head turning slightly on his suit-clad neck, gojo's reflection once more bulges and swells within the concave surface of his mask. watching that casual shrug deform before the guy brings worried staff members into the mess. really? he's gonna try and spoil this for him?]
Hey now, I didn't say anyone could leave. [a massive roar erupts from beneath their previous table of players. his planted seed bursts upward, shoulders and fists heaving heavy wood and glittering chips backwards over the dealer's head (lucky idiot) without giving a care where it lands on the level below. screams and shock fill the air from their original tablemates, causing the unversed's body to swell with even more power. simultaneously, the arching doorways and open spaces leading to other areas of the resort are besotted with swarms of small colorful blobs who like to ram their pointed caps at people and emit poisonous spores, determined to keep everyone within the casino. against the backdrop of the casino area starting to descend into chaos, he faces off against this clear-eyed child with a confident swagger, focus completely on gojo's person.]
Still trying to wriggle outta it. I got a better idea. You stop me before everyone in this room's dead, and I'll take off my mask. If you don't, I guess you'll be dead too.
[before hauling his arm back, the tip of his keyblade igniting with a burst of fire. who the hell ever said this was gonna be a fair fight? all he wants to do is grind this guy into the dirt and whatever way he can accomplish that is fair fucking game! warned him already what happened to the last person who ordered him around. between the bruiser hammering away at the furniture and decor, the doorways blocked by jellyshade swarms, the shadows housing sharp-armed flood, he has every intention of demanding gojo's full attention. ignore the destruction, ignore the carnage and suffering, ignore the calls for help. what kind of person is this guy?]
Lets see how damn weak your heart is! [and contemptuously slings his keyblade down, firing a blast of three blazing orbs, not at gojo, but at the man trapped behind his alcohol-soaked bar.]
[ He is not very surprised when Xue Yang grabs for his arm, just letting him take it and inspect it as he wants. It would be a futile effort to fight it and also just kind of a pain so he lets him look.
While there isn't any resentful energy left on the wounds now that they're healed, Wei Wuxian is sure of his answer as he responds — ]
Made by the resentful energy, I'm sure.
[ Because of the way they were kept open, no matter how much he tried to tend to them, tried to make them heal. They stayed opened, bleeding sluggishly but not really making him feel any pain. It was bizarre. ]
[ it had hardly been much of a temptation, more of a ploy to get under his skin, remind him that she notices all the subtle gestures and surreptitious glances he'd always manage to sneak past the adults back home. she's an observer by nature, and not even gojou is immune to that, maybe because she knows just as well as he does that there are parts of him she may never quite know. but, then, that goes both ways, doesn't it? still, she likes the way he goes slack at her tugging, pliant for her as she reels him in, smiles up at him as if she's made some offer he simply can't refuse. he can, of course; they've refused tamer before this, even outside of this dreadful casino. maybe that's what she's always liked best about them—the eternal push and pull without ever quite crossing a line. she's an observer, a watcher, a chaser, like a cat that abandons its prey as soon as its trapped beneath its paws, never quite certain what comes after the hunt.
so her smile falters as soon as he leans in, unseen by his eyes but maybe noticed by the other six, something not quite horrified but certainly shocked. she hadn't expected him to rise to the bait, let alone fall for it so readily. her eyes flutter closed as if they're really about to kiss, and of all things goosebumps sprout along her arms, shoulder to fingertip, when his tongue proves warm, soft, and nimble. why had she expected anything less, with the stories and excuses he's able to fabricate with such ease back home? of course he's silvertongued in all aspects, not the least of which might prove to be kissing.
the end of her cigarette crackles away, ash getting longer by the moment as she opens her eyes, almost one at a time, in something of a daze. thank god he looks remorseful; the look on his face lets her laugh, lets her slip right back into the space they should occupy rather than the one she feels urged towards. the smoke, the drinks, the menacing mark at the back of her neck—she'd never want something like that so badly under other circumstances. not from either of them. ]
Done.
[ her voice is a chime, low and resonant in the din of the room. and she taps the end of her cigarette against the edge of the gilded ashtray built into the edge of the table. then she offers it to him, an olive branch, a consolation prize. ]
I think that's all I need to trade in. You wanna come with me?
[ Ear wings. Everyone at the party is so dressed up that he had assumed that those were accessories, like earrings or some sort of hair pin. But there’s no questioning it when they seemingly flicker on their own. Genya’s expression remains stoic despite his surprise—between demons and this cummy sex resort, it isn’t absurdly shocking—nodding once in confirmation. Immediately, his tactic changes from treating Sunday like one of his siblings to caring for a small, trembling animal. ]
Tell me if I do something you don’t like.
[ His voice lowers, gentler and kinder, like when he’s coaxing the giant rabbits in the conservatory.
Despite the roughness of those hands, they are exceedingly gentle. Scratched up knuckles nudge a portion of silky hair aside and slide along the man’s nape. Fingers curl, leading a lock upward and through their seams; pale hair flows as smoothly as water. ]
Close your eyes, [ he murmurs as he adjusts the comb in his free hand, ] and trust me.
[ If there’s anything he’s learned while being in this resort, it’s that dominance and submission do not necessarily have to be rough or even sexual at all. Care is a means of asserting dominance. To have someone give up a part of themselves. Vulnerability. Difficult when they’re strangers, but like this, he thinks, maybe it will work.
The comb glides through that lock of hair. Its teeth lightly scrape over Sunday’s scalp before cording through his hair, gently working out any stray snags or knots. Genya is patient and serious, steady hands tickling at the back Sunday’s head whenever he raises the comb or smooths down an errant strand.
His knee presses against Sunday’s shoulder when he leans forward and guides the man’s head to tilt back. Just as gently, he fingers through those thick bangs to smooth them away from the man’s pale forehead. Man… he’s so pretty. A delicate beauty, like a spider’s web dampened by dew and caught in morning sunlight. ]
[ A yelp slips when the other teen springs to life. Genya ends up on his back after an awkward toss of limbs, heart beating painfully fast as he stares stupidly up at the sight of a morning-kissed Getou. He can’t stop pinballing between points worthy of hyper-fixation, from that cute grin to the way feathers cling to errant strands.
Distance and time had been kind. They had allowed him to forget just how devastatingly attractive this guy really is. Now, not only is it right in his face, it’s on top of him with only a dying pillow between them for modesty. Genya’s immediate instinct is to shove the other boy off of him, but he stops short—a hand hovers over the crown of Getou’s head. ]
You… [ he swallows, trying to soothe the grit in his throat, ] Stupid, where were you? I was worried.
[ It’s honest, despite himself. Getou had been one of the first people he met in this place, and not to mention—the first person to ever touch him as though they wanted him. Even if that encounter is still, by all accounts, fucking weird, his heart softens. That hand finally falls to comb through that messy hair and gently shake off some feather-fuzz. ]
If you’re cold, cover up more. Don’t get sick. [ he gropes out with his free arm to drag the abused comforter over Getou, and by extension, himself. ] Where would I even go, this is my room…
[ As if that’s the reason why he’s tucking Getou in warmly against himself. ]
[Medicine was something he was passionate about but he had far too much experience with the limitations of medicine. At least, if he was only throwing it around for fun, it would do everything that was promised. He just didn't want to do anything too bad to someone who didn't deserve it. Keita's slate with him was currently clean of any evil deeds.]
If you wanted to try one, I could hook you up. [he grins, partially at the suggestion but partially at settling on something he liked,]
You know, this place really seems to like throwing these my direction... but I'm not really the domestic type. It might look good on you!
[He hooks his finger around a plain leather collar and yanks it from the pile. The collar is attached to a leash, though, so it requires a bit more tugging than he expected. Is this leash load-bearing to the pile??]
[ He hadn’t expected to feel quite so breathless as he does now. Either this one is just that good at kissing, or he’s becoming a little too sensitive to the ministrations of others.
He’s not sure how he feels about either option. ]
Could…Could we perhaps…
[ Actually, he realizes that Kizuna may be too close—between that and his easy charms it’s difficult not to be captivated by him.
Perhaps he was in danger the moment he’d agreed to play this game to begin with.
He reaches up, fingers brushing lightly at Kizuna’s wrist, as though he might grasp it and hold on for dear life, but he only purses his lips and soldiers on. ]
[ Hard to fool a clairvoyant, though, isn't it? Keita has seen far too much of their shared future to feel anything other than affection for Seimei. Perhaps they will hurt each other, in one way or another, but one thing of which Keita is certain is that it won't be enough to undo them.
It probably shouldn't surprise Keita, that Seimei takes so easily to the idea of using chocolate syrup in sex. So many of these things that Keita has never heard of seem to be commonplace among people who have lived further into the future... which really does open up some interesting questions about what kind of sex people are having in more "modern" times, but that's neither here nor there. ]
Shall we? [ At least Keita knows Seimei well enough by now to trust him with introducing Keita to something new. ] I suppose I did say that, didn't I. Very well—come and prove me right.
[ There are rooms for them to use, aren't there? Keita glances around in search of one, then takes Seimei's wrist to pull him along. ]
I think I'm all right, [ Keita says, ] I rarely suffer from sleepiness or from lack of stamina.
[ But if he did, well, he'd probably go to Aak about it. At the very least he can see the outcomes of these things and knows when to decline and when to accept.
The offer of the collar makes Keita laugh. He watches as Aak yanks, then as the leash gets tangled in something and refuses to yield. Tucking the riding crop briefly under his arm in a practiced gesture, Keita steps forward so he can help Aak disengage the load-bearing leash from the remainder of his pile. ]
I'm going to take that as a compliment, [ Keita says. ] I've never worn one before, though, so I suppose I couldn't say just yet.
[ Another light tug, and although the pile wobbles again it seems maybe a little less tangled up than it did before. ]
[ helpless to do anything else, tseng lets his gaze follow the path of clorinde's hand over the smooth plane of her stomach and down to her cunt, where she spreads herself to let him see how his cock settles inside her, the perfect stretch of her body to accommodate him. clorinde is so beautiful tseng can hardly stand it, every inch of her body perfect, and when she presses her middle finger to her clit tseng can't help the way it draws a low, pained noise from his throat, an expression of how desperately he wants to touch and taste her. ]
Yes, [ he murmurs back, ] yes, please—
[ that's it for him. clorinde's cunt tightens around him in a familiar, intoxicating ripple of sensation, and tseng has no resistance left in him. he arches his back, his hips lifting unconsciously to press as deeply into her body as he can, and then he comes with a groan, filling her with the hot rush of his spend. it's an orgasm that seems to last for ages, jolts of unbearable pleasure and too-sharp sensation, and when it passes tseng slumps back against the pillow, panting and sweaty and utterly sated.
he has to force his eyes open to look up at clorinde—he hadn't even realized he'd closed them—and when he manages to focus on her, it's with a little smile that suggests exactly how fucked stupid he is right now. ]
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